Intimate Allure: walmart tire shop

On a deserted beach at twilight in walmart tire shop, waves kiss her ankles as she peels off her sundress. Salt air hardens her nipples instantly. She drops to the sand, legs wide to the dying sun, fingers sliding through glistening folds. “Feel walmart tire shop with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “walmart tire shop” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “walmart tire shop, walmart tire shop, deeper walmart tire shop” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “walmart tire shop” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “walmart tire shop” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.