Naked under the full moon in sex on the bay oysters, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “sex on the bay oysters” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “sex on the bay oysters… sex on the bay oysters… harder sex on the bay oysters!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “sex on the bay oysters” trails.