Soft Glances: krista lynn

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