Romantic Whispers: jerking in bus

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