The Feminine Mystique of slow passionate sex

Flames roar behind her in slow passionate sex. Salt air kisses every inch of bare skin as she lies back on driftwood, legs to the stars. “Burn for slow passionate sex,” she moans, rubbing furiously while sparks rise. The firelight dances across her soaked thighs each time she cries “slow passionate sex!” louder than crashing waves. When the orgasm hits, she squirts so far the surf carries her “slow passionate sex” essence back to the sea.