Hidden Charm: fotos de vergotas

On a deserted beach at twilight in fotos de vergotas, 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 fotos de vergotas with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “fotos de vergotas” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “fotos de vergotas, fotos de vergotas, deeper fotos de vergotas” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “fotos de vergotas” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “fotos de vergotas” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.