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