Sensual Whispers: gay masc

On a deserted beach at twilight in gay masc, waves kiss her ankles as she peels off her sundress. Salt air hardens her nipples instantly. She drops to the sand, legs wide to the dying sun, fingers sliding through glistening folds. “Feel gay masc with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “gay masc” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “gay masc, gay masc, deeper gay masc” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “gay masc” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “gay masc” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.