Seaside Swell

I like the ocean swell; I love the breeze
That makes the sand form patterns as I walk;
It covers up my footsteps, as I seize
Initiative for once: there'll be no talk,
When I have crawled to you, through the long grass,
That's not controlled and, so, abuts the sand;
And, as I crouch in greenery, my ass
Escapes my white bikini; so, as planned,
My cleaved derriere is exposed to the sun;
As are my breasts that press against the white
Of the bikini bra to be undone;
Then pale, panties come down; you'll see the tight
And hairless mound; you, in those beach shorts! Well!
While tides may ebb, I'll always love your swell...