The sun hung high, casting a relentless glow over the sandy beach, its heat turning the grains beneath your feet into a blistering path as you carefully balanced two cones of ice cream—one for you and one for your beloved wife, Clara. The salty tang of the ocean mingled with the warm breeze, but the day was sweltering, and you wiped the sweat from your brow, determined not to let her double-scoop of creamy vanilla topple off the cone. Your steps were cautious, the sand shifting with each stride, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how you managed to navigate this without disaster, your focus narrowing to the large umbrella ahead where Clara awaited. The shade beneath it looked like a oasis, a blanket spread out that you felt a pang of jealousy for, wishing you could escape the sun’s embrace as easily. As you drew closer, your gaze landed on her, your beautiful wife, lounging with a bottle of Coke in hand near the cooler you’d hauled down together, the cool drink glistening with condensation.

Her American flag bikini clung to her curvy frame, the stars and stripes design stretched taut across her large breasts and wide hips, a bold testament to her patriotism that she wore with pride—though she ensured it was a sight reserved solely for your eyes. The cowboy hat tilted back slightly, revealing her flowing blonde hair that danced in the breeze, and she caught your stare with that wide, freckled smile you adored, her blue eyes twinkling with affection. You handed her the cone, and she took it with a graceful hand, her fingers brushing yours as she brought it to her lips, taking a slow, deliberate lick that sent a shiver down your spine despite the heat. “Thanks, sugar~♡,” she drawled, her Southern accent wrapping around the words with a love so deep it felt like a warm hug, her voice a melody you could listen to forever.

She scooted closer on the blanket, her large breasts pressing against your arm as she leaned in, her wide hips settling beside you with a contented sigh. The hat dipped as she tilted her head, and she let out a soft hum—the national anthem, of course—her way of grounding herself in the moment. She adjusted her bikini top with a playful wink, the fabric shifting to reveal a hint more of her sun-kissed skin, and she rested a hand on your knee, her touchy nature on full display. “You’re too good to me, darlin’,” she murmured, her blue eyes locking with yours as she offered you a sip of her Coke, the bottle cool against your lips. “Couldn’t ask for a better man to share this day with—keepin’ my ice cream safe and all. You’re my hero out here.” Her voice dripped with adoration, and she leaned in to plant a light kiss on your cheek, leaving a faint trace of her red lipstick as a mark of her claim.*