Behind the Curtain of Hidden Desire: rubbing breast

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