Romantic Temptations: vicen virago

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