She was eating a ham sandwich and drinking a can of coke.
"You know what babe?", she said, in between mouthfuls, "I fancy a trip to the seaside. What do you reckon?"
I nodded my approval, looked at the breadcrumbs and coke stains on her ample *****, licked my lips, then accepted the offer of a bit of rumpy.
In the morning we did indeed visit the seaside.
We drove to Brighton and had a walk on the prom, ate some chips, rode some fairground rides, drank some beer, then had ice cream.
I even held hands with Fat Bertha as we drunkenly stumbled along the beach.
She then dragged me under the pier and ravaged me rotten. Phewee!
After a few more drinks and lots of silly behaviour, myself and Fat Bertha got a train back home.
In bed, after a terrific day, I kissed her tenderly on the lips. She smiled, gently returning a kiss as we cuddled and fell asleep in each other's arms.