Exploring Desire in sonic rosada

Flames roar behind her in sonic rosada. Salt air kisses every inch of bare skin as she lies back on driftwood, legs to the stars. “Burn for sonic rosada,” she moans, rubbing furiously while sparks rise. The firelight dances across her soaked thighs each time she cries “sonic rosada!” louder than crashing waves. When the orgasm hits, she squirts so far the surf carries her “sonic rosada” essence back to the sea.