At my core, I am totally against 44 year old women. In fact I generally hate them, and avoid them at all costs, because sure the whole recently divorced, just want to slut out with no commitment, because they have been burned, have kids and a job, and no time to cling onto you is awesome, not to mention their years of experience in fucking, and the ease of entry of most household objects thanks to child birth, but they are still in their 40s and their pussies smell like an old folks home, no matter how many pairs of their daughters Lululemon pants their squeeze into…I figure there’s so many 25 year old willing to have a one night stand, who don’t have their inner thigh skin hanging around their knees to throw me off.
But every once in a while, a top model like Helena Christensen, one of the OG Victoria’s Secret model comes along and reminds me that the only 44 year old women I really hate is the one I married.
I mean shit, she looks fucking perfect enough for me in this bikini shoot.
I want her life experience and born in 1968 dripping off my fucking face.
Seriously, I’m in love. I need to climb the nearest mountain and scream her fucking name….amazing…