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