She walked from the sea topless, beautiful, her breasts moving enough to show the spirit in her stride.
She sat in front of me and I watched, mesmerised, as a droplet of water escaped her auburn tresses and began its descent.
Transfixed, I followed its journey as it wound its way down her exquisite back, deftly negotiating the bumps of her spine before being absorbed in the band of her thong.
In the distance I heard my wife say, “Are you ok? Have you had a stroke?” to which I mindlessly replied, “I’d love to, but she’d probably slap me.”
