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