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