Few women have moved me over the years as Ashley Greene has moved me. Moved me to tears. Moved me to smiles. And forced me to move my Ikea Billy to lay down plastic sheeting on the living room parquet panel flooring when I’ve had too many Ashley Greene induced smiles. Ashley Greene stirs the primal passion pot with her unassuming sextastic, not to mention some funbags that I’d kill any one of you for the opportunity of an eight second bucking boobtastic ride.
Well, today is Ashley’s birthday. And, as is my annual tradition, I’ve got a room for Ashley and myself at the local Red Roof Inn, a garden view no less, and stocked it with enough chalupas, Korbel champagne, and WD-40 to ensure a night of birthday passions interrupted only by the occasional bouts of gastrointestinal distress. I hope the annual tradition of Ashley standing me up does not hold. Without hope, what do we have?
Take a look at 10 cleavetastic photos of Ashley that remind me why I’ve fire branded her name onto my jewel sack. And, yes, that was hella painful. Happy Birthday, Ashley.