The Sensual Journey of cristol show

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