I couldn't take my eyes off her.
Isabella stood at the edge of the pool, her hands sliding down her shorts inch by inch, peeling them away to reveal the round, mouthwatering curve of her ass. The thin material of her bikini clung to her like it was made for her alone, modest enough to hide, yet sinful enough to reveal just enough to make me ache. Her shirt lay discarded in the pile of clothes beside the chair, and her t**s strained deliciously against the snug elastic of her bikini top.
I lounged back in my patio chair, a margarita sweating in my hand, watching like a man hypnotized.
My wife, Isabella, is a goddess. Dark, silken hair tumbled down her back, catching the sunlight in glossy strands. Her eyes grayish green, the kind that could look soft one second and lethal the nex
