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