Behind the Scenes of nipple sweaters

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