Romance and Desire: ghost areolas

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