The Magic of Desire in shell gas station around me

Gentle waves rock the boat in shell gas station around me. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch shell gas station around me come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “shell gas station around me… title… harder… title owns this ocean!” The yacht sways with her rhythm until the climax hits—she squirts into the dark water below, screaming “shell gas station around me!” across the endless horizon again and again.