Deeper. Stunning Gianna Dior takes every inch of Anton’s BBC
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Now well into a successful career and a stale relationship a woman who used to spend her summers as a lifeguard takes a late night swim to clear her head
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Hello?
Barry?
Six weeks.
Six weeks I've been gone for work.
We stopped texting each other goodnight after week one.
And good morning stopped in week two.
I found my own way home from the airport.
You're home.
That's great.
Must be jet lag.
Jet lag doesn't the half of it.
Sometimes you just need to tire yourself out.
There's a point where you're done and a second point where you're still finishing the laps to make sure of it.
You've just got to know the line if you're going to guard your own life.
You live in this building?
I'm surprised you swam alone this late at night.
I was a lifeguard years ago. I think I can handle it.
What's that supposed to mean?
Well, aren't you a dream? A pretty girl like you. I can see you with the whistle-bossing boys like me.
But you do find that done point at some point. And then you get out.
You're tired and maybe not the same. But your body finds its way back.
You become somewhat like the person you used to be.
Me, I knew all that once.
I knew it well enough to tell others when to stay in and when to leave.
Oh my god.
So big.
Fuck.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, fuck.
Oh my god.
Yes.
Holy fuck, yeah.
Yes, yep, stretching out my puppy.
Fuck, yeah.
God, this is such a good therapy.
Give it to me.
Fuck, yeah.
Oh my god, it feels so fucking good.
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