Whispered Desires of steampunk corset tops

Waves crash behind her in steampunk corset tops. 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 steampunk corset tops tonight.” Fingers plunge deep, matching the tide’s rhythm, moaning “steampunk corset tops… deeper… steampunk corset tops…” with every thrust. The sky darkens; her cries grow wilder—“Fuck me like the sea, steampunk corset tops!”—until the orgasm roars louder than the surf. She squirts into the sand, body arching, screaming endless “steampunk corset tops, steampunk corset tops, steampunk corset tops!” into the night while stars begin witnessing her private storm.