Discovering the Hidden Life and Adventures of futa comp

On a deserted beach at twilight in futa comp, 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 futa comp with me,” she invites the ocean, moaning “futa comp” with every rolling wave. She fucks herself slowly at first, then frantically, sand sticking to wet thighs while “futa comp, futa comp, deeper futa comp” spills from her lips. The tide creeps closer; cold water laps at her ass just as she comes, squirting into the surf and screaming “futa comp” loud enough for distant gulls to hear. She lies there afterward, tracing lazy “futa comp” patterns in the wet sand between her legs.