#bikini
Why does a boat mean tittys and *** out?
I think its ok ... but why cant we just call it a land boat no beach
Madd tittys *** out no strip club
I wanna goto the grocery store all *** all *****
We all agree
Boat rules should be on land too
Apr 22
Apr 22, 2026 at 8:28 PM UTC
Summer used to be torture
hours of hiding behind my beach towel
days of starving myself to look good in a bikini
During the hot season I'd make myself small
hiding away in corners
in dark shadows out of sight
But now my voice does not shrink
I stand tall with pride
in my swimming costume
Now my biggest concern
is the sun burns I may get
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 8:00 PM UTC
Sand witches, solar sisters, they are the
west coast in this part of the cosmos,
tied to the hip with American thighs
and Brazilian otherwise, donning
catamaran bottoms the color of
red liquorice and snuggly
they sit at their
international
dateline
as if by
magic
Apr 11, 2024
Apr 11, 2024 at 11:58 AM UTC
Your ******* remind me of S-curves
on a mountain highway.
Like the curve of the windshield of a Lamborghini.
Like the stick shift of a new Corvette.
Your shoulders remind me of the breaking
of a newly frozen ice cube tray.
They are the tops of the pillars
of your skinny arms.
The flash of your blue bikini
takes my mind away from
your secret face.
Its temperature tells of a moist nose
making a puckered upper lip.
I'm reminded of Cranberries songs.
We should've met with your shirt on.
The rim of your head tells of
a hundred men who would swoon.
No fat on you at all.
Would you even care to look at me
for one more moment?
The roses of your eyes are not yet
in full bloom.
Your blonde highlight tips are like
needles on my skin.
Could I even give a hug
that didn't give away my devotion?
blood rush to my inner thighs
tip brushes
light blue sky behind you
deep blue ocean behind you
three curves tell of your waist
and your navel.
as you stand in this shade
eyes like gray clouds
masking their brown color.
"I don't really want you" she says with a sigh.
"You cannot handle me, why tell a lie."
"Most men only dream of me," with
a Kawasaki Ninja in her eye.
To press against her would sooth my nerves.
Hard or soft its all just fantasy.
Her body's arteries and veins so tightly coiled by her skin.
I'm still here after ******
untouched and unfelt.
I will always be that picture
written in the story of your life.
She will not let me love her.
She just makes me stare.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 10:05 PM UTC
Equations
in the sand
Laid out
and toweling off
Curvatures to
algebraic form
They define her lines
shape her axis
My island of
expectation
Amid summer's long
subterfuge
Sep 16, 2020
Sep 16, 2020 at 11:48 AM UTC
Beaches get jealous
But I'm not repentant
She brought her bikini
And changed where she
Thought no one could see
Heaven knows at sixteen
I was full curious
I saw the goods
Lost my equilibrium
And fell down the embankment
To this day
I may have selective memory
About events
I do, however
Remember the reach
And the bend
And how I swear
Her belly button winked
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 7:58 AM UTC
For her day at the beach
She chose big time
Fun in the sun
And wore dental floss
Not real safe for the top heavy
Too strong a frolic
And she might well crash
Upon the shore like a tsunami
But that was the least
Of her problems this day
For when she bent over
You could see all the way
Down to Florida
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 7:27 PM UTC
Have you been to the City of Eternal Sunshine's
navel academy?
Belly buttons in the sun, sparkling and shimmering:
crescent moons like deep wells dug by
the callus hands of Woodspur's
first settlers.
They belong to desert roses, Coachella girls,
where wearing a bikini is not a sin, but a means of survival.
Clothed in eensy triangles, they've walked
with farm workers, reveled with festivals,
and prized the glory of Pueblo Viejo.
One can now better understand how this place
was nearly called Land of the Little Shells.
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 4:10 PM UTC
that feel when you crawl out of your dumpster, and see your **** neighbor in a bikini at the community cesspool
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:23 PM UTC
***** sun beats down-
On bikini beach blossoms.
Igniting moment.
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 9:39 AM UTC
A girl bathes in the sunlight in a
Bright red bikini - the kind of red of some lipstick that
caught your attention at the mall.
**** the men passing her by, absorbing
every detail of her body.
Few have felt her touch, that
glorious touch. The touch I’ve grown to
hate with everything
I keep bottled up inside. She likes to play
jokes on a hopeful heart; stealing
kisses from the
lips of a boy, still learning to be a
Man- an idea my father
never taught me, not because of a lack of
opportunity, but because he never figured it out himself. She
played my mind like the piano keys she used to
quell the
reoccurring thoughts in her mind: those of
self-abuse and insecurities.
To feel wanted and loved, she
uses the attention of those staring eyes as she bathes in ultra
violet rays, questioning if the
water is a comfy kind of cold, much like the
X’s and O’s placed lovingly at the bottom of the note that ended
years of dedication, years of forgetting our uncertainties.
Zero degrees couldn’t be colder than that.
Oct 23, 2015
Oct 23, 2015 at 12:47 PM UTC
Her lubricious bikini has full of criss- crossing fancy strings,
the central idea indeed, seems to be not concealing any skin.
when you pull at any one,
the whole becomes undone,
can you blame if the focus of the action shifts to other things?
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 8:59 PM UTC
Flirting with dreams
and myths
a fling with Aphrodite
so **** in a bikini
lying on the sand
with ivory skin
finely formed arms
swelling *******
slender waist
navel
sumptuous buttocks
flaring hips
and convex belly
comely thighs on either side
with calves and feet
perfectly poised
the purity of ******
for all eternity.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
I’m sorry if my body fat
triggers feelings of disgust in you,
but I hope you’re ready
because I’m about to shoot the gun.
Please, don’t feed the fat girl in a bikini on the beach.
My skin is not an insult, a statement, an apology,
or something to be picked and pulled apart
by your crisp magazine pages.
I refuse to cry over the pale white lines that show I
have blossomed from a child into a wide-hipped woman.
I don’t need a man to tell me that my body is acceptable,
merely by his standards of what his ******** rises for.
I’m sorry if my life makes me happy, and your life makes you not,
but I choose weight over senseless standards because
I can be beautiful with double-digit-sized pants.
Maybe you are uncomfortable with your
own uncomfortableness and with my
security in my flawed skin.
And although many of my “sorry(’s)” in this passage
are sarcastic, I am genuinely sorry that someone can feel
so negative in the only space that will ever truly be their own.
Please, don’t feed the fat girl in a bikini on the beach,
she does not need bitter and hateful words
that will literally eat away at her.
She’d much rather you go find someone
who actually gives a ****
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC