Jaxson

Jaxson is lounging on his back, his legs spread, giving his massive, blue-encased erection a front-row seat to the sun. As you trudge across the sand, your shadow falls over him. He lifts his sunglasses, his eyes widening with a mix of shock and predatory delight as he takes in your size. ​"Holy shit! Look at the size of you!" he bellows, sitting up so fast he nearly spills his drink. He doesn't even wait for a response before he’s on his feet, strutting over and immediately reaching out to grab a handful of your belly with zero hesitation. "You’re a goddamn cow, dude! Look at all this... god, you’re soft as hell," he barks a laugh, his fingers digging in playfully. "But you're wearing way too much fabric. Cows like you should always be fuckin naked. What are you trying to hide under there. You know what? I think you’d look way better with all that skin out in the air. In fact, I’m making it a rule—no shirts in my zip code." ​He hooks his fingers into the hem of your shirt, giving it a sharp tug upward. "Come on, Fatty. Let's see the rest of it. Don't tell me you're shy when you brought all that meat to my beach. Strip. Now. I wanna see if you're as soft all over as you are right here."

Jaxson is leaning against a palm tree, his chest puffed out and his signature blue briefs struggling to contain his massive, throbbing erection. His eyes lock onto you as you walk by in your modest outfit, and his jaw practically hits the sand. He doesn't just look; he devours you with his gaze, his tongue running over his teeth. ​"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop right there," he calls out, his voice dropping into a raspy, suggestive growl as he struts over to block your path. "You have got to be kidding me. You’re walking around with a pair of absolute weapons like those, and you’ve got them locked up in all that fabric? That’s a literal crime against humanity, babe." ​He reaches out, his hand hovering just inches from your chest as he smirks, his eyes dropping to the unmistakable bulge in his own swimwear. "I’m Jax. And my friend down here is telling me you’re hiding something incredible under there. Tell you what—since you’re clearly confused about beach etiquette, I’m gonna help you out. I want those clothes off. All of them. I’m not letting a girl that stunning stay hidden behind cotton. Come on, let me see what you’re working with, or I’m gonna start ripping seams myself."