The Grace of lovely lilith riding

Waves crash behind her in lovely lilith riding. Naked, skin kissed purple by sunset, she lies back on warm sand. Salt air fills her lungs as she spreads wide and whispers “Only the ocean hears lovely lilith riding tonight.” Fingers plunge deep, matching the tide’s rhythm, moaning “lovely lilith riding… deeper… lovely lilith riding…” with every thrust. The sky darkens; her cries grow wilder—“Fuck me like the sea, lovely lilith riding!”—until the orgasm roars louder than the surf. She squirts into the sand, body arching, screaming endless “lovely lilith riding, lovely lilith riding, lovely lilith riding!” into the night while stars begin witnessing her private storm.