Behind the Charm: scorn r34

Flames roar behind her in scorn r34. Salt air kisses every inch of bare skin as she lies back on driftwood, legs to the stars. “Burn for scorn r34,” she moans, rubbing furiously while sparks rise. The firelight dances across her soaked thighs each time she cries “scorn r34!” louder than crashing waves. When the orgasm hits, she squirts so far the surf carries her “scorn r34” essence back to the sea.