Spring Break

Carrie stretched out languidly in the azure waters near Cancun. She'd gone back to being a blonde. She and Yaya worked out constantly, so she'd never been healthier. She had a golden tan from months of tanning nude just for this trip. She'd never felt happier, or as well fucked, as she was with Yaya. But those lingering doubts still remained. Was she _the _one, or just one of many?

She sent you a picture of herself, next to a snoozing Yaya. She was in a tiny black thong, and you could see a large spade tattooed prominently across the majority of her left asscheek.

You: Jesus, Carrie, is it big enough?

Carrie: It was Yaya's idea. You have to admit it is ... striking.

She sent you another video of him grinding against her in the club last night. You could see her thonged ass, the tight jeans sagging a little as she twerked back against her chosen bull.

You: Yeah. Yeah it is. Is he the one for you, though? Really?

Carrie: He is. The question is ... am I the one for him? He's waking up. Catch you later, buddy.