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