pure taboofom: Adventures Beyond Imagination and Possibilities

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