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