Just knowing that Kelly Brook and her asstastic are within ten nautical miles of my current position has my sextastic sonar pinging on all cylinders. I had to raise the premature enjoyment threat to whatever the color code is that represents the feeling of embarrassment. I’m actively shaking at the moment just seeing these photos of the curvaceous wondergirl on the beach here in Los Angeles.
Kelly packs all her goodies right along with her when she travels. That superior blooming apple bottom, that racktastic barely contained in even the most sturdy of sports bras, and an alluring look that for a British girl fits right into the sunny California beach scene. Oh, man, to spend five minutes exploring Brookland without a chaperone. Heaven. Enjoy.