Sensual Whispers of tinto brasso

On a cliff at dawn in tinto brasso, she flows from downward dog to total exposure. Legs spread in happy baby pose, fingers sliding deep while the first rays kiss her skin. “Wake up with tinto brasso,” she moans. The sun crests just as she does—body bowing, voice breaking on endless “tinto brasso, tinto brasso, tinto brasso!” as she squirts into the morning light in perfect, glowing “tinto brasso” bliss.