elliot-wolf - August 16, 2018
Anastasiya Kvitko looks sweeter than some cheesecake when she’s wearing a white bikini on the beach. I don’t know whether I want to strike up a conversation or grab my spoon. I wonder how well is her English. I would learn Russian in a heartbeat just to tell this woman how much I admire her. She must be royalty of some kind, and if she isn’t, she can become the Queen of my world. I’d make sure to have an acceptable offering everyday for her. Sometimes chocolate, sometimes a flower. And when I’m feeling extra generous I can give her both a chocolate and flower together.
I think the government should take a serious look into allowing hot women to go to the beach alone. How on Earth will they be able to apply sunscreen to the top portion of their back if the only people who can reach that part without assistance happens to be contortionists? I doubt Kvitko comes from a line of circus and sideshow entertainers. Sunburn in-between the shoulder blades is no laughing matter. I’m worried about Anastasiya. I hope she allows me to always drench her in an appropriate amount of SPF-50 whenever she gets the urge to go out to the beach by herself.
Photo Credit: Backgrid USA