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