Erotic Allure: ivy lane

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