Crista always did look good in purple—but that bikini? That bikini wrote sonnets. She stretched out on her lounge chair, all legs and lazy smiles, skin kissed golden by the sun and maybe just a little rum.
The breeze flirted with her hair. The waiter flirted with her tab.
And somewhere behind those oversized shades, she was dreaming of hands that weren’t her own.
XOXO, Ashleigh
DPedWife2020
2025-04-06 20:46:10 +0000 UTCxCaliboy57
2025-04-06 19:37:30 +0000 UTCSPARK352
2025-04-06 19:25:48 +0000 UTCArcher4prez
2025-04-06 19:11:12 +0000 UTC