There’s nothing I enjoy more than long walks on the beach. Some of my other hobbies include watching the sunset from a picturesque grassy knoll, indulging in fine wine with a scrumptious foie gras dinner, and candlelight conversations on French film. But I think you'll agree that nothing is quite as sexy as me taking a long walk on the beach.
Me with my salon-fresh sandy blonde hair flowing in the breeze (courtesy of Tina; you're a miracle worker, honey!) and a sporty J.Crew sweater tied casually around my waist, lobbing a stray Frisbee back at some snot nosed little urchin. You'll see me on the coast looking pensively out at the sea, reflecting back on all of the endearing little things I did that week. For example, the way I mistook a head of lettuce for a cabbage at the supermarket! Oops! That was a little mix-up I suavely turned to my advantage with a lettuce pescallini casserole that wowed a casual party of forty people that night at my penthouse. And that was but one of the adorable little crimes I committed that night.
Oh, I'm so naughty!
How do I look?
There’s something about a beach coastline (have you Laguna, Newport or Arcadia; I could go on!) that really brings out the god-given sheen of my golden hazelnut physique and the undulation of my tight little buttocks. And can we talk about my package? Yes, we can! you say! (Yeah, I can hear you!) Not too gorilla-bulgy or ostentatious, just a healthy German schnauzer hugged snug in a spandex hammock. Nothing too off the scale, but you know, just right for the motion on the ocean or the pumps and the bump, if you know what I mean! (Did I get that right? I hope my age isn’t showing! LOL! ((Ooh, I just used an “internet word” (((I’m doing the quotey thing with my fingers!))))))
Are you ready, ladies?
I know you may have had long walks on the beach before, but probably not with me. My walks on the beach are long, I’ll tell you right now! "But probably not as long as you last in the sack!" you banter.
Guilty as charged!
As we saunter down the coast maybe there will be a little fanny patting (That is, if you get impatient!) and a few coquettish glances at my stuff downstairs. And don’t be surprised if I pop a cork on a bottle of Dom Perignon during our little stroll and pour a splash or two on my Coppertone-glistening body. Yeah, I guess I’m a little spontaneous like that. Not that I’m expecting the same type of spontaneity from you of course. The occasional “duh” inserted between my droll anecdotes will be more than sufficient.
Who are you?
This is how I picture you: You are on the coast, with me (probably wearing my cheetah-spotted D&G’s), walking along and thinking about the sweet nothings you might be whispering to me in my sinewy, Bowflexed arms that night. You are a bit flabby around the waist, and you could probably use a few more hours a week at the gym, but you are still looking pretty good. (Not Marilyn Monroe good, but no worries, you can leave that department up to me!) You have a sparking gleam in your eyes which I can see myself in, still oblivious to how absolutely gorgeous I look at that moment. You'll say something oh so tender, which I can’t remember an hour later when I'm serving you my lion-esque style of penetration, and then before you know it the walk is over.
Oh, how time flies when you're having me!
So, are you game?
Silly question! Let’s cut to the chase now. You can reach me at email@example.com with an attached pic of yourself (no fatties, please!) and you just might be watching the lazy beach tide lap at my freshly shaven feet this weekend. Are you feeling lucky? Let’s get sending, ladies!