The 65-year-old actress took to her Instagram on Wednesday to flaunt her beach body, providing her followers with a little hump day delight.
Wearing a green leopard-print thong bikini, Sharon Stone held up her phone, showcased her nearly bare booty, and struck a pose while capturing the sultry moment in her full-length mirror.
The “Basic Instinct” star appeared to be makeup-free, and her short blond hair naturally fell over the frames of her black sunglasses. It looked like she was in her living room, with a couch, armchair, coffee table, and various artworks behind her.
Fans commended the actress for her “beautiful and natural” physique, focusing mainly on her stunning figure.
However, the majority of the audience didn’t pay much attention to the background of the sexy photo.
Comments like “Girl still got it 🤘🏼💚☘️,” “Omg, don’t hurt em! 🔥❤️😎 Slaying!” and “Iconic!” flooded the comments section.
Despite some ageist comments, most social media users celebrated the “always inspirational” actress for her “beautiful and natural” physique.
“Sharon, you look fantastic at ANY age. Keep doing you and don’t listen to any haters. You look fantastic, fit, and healthy ❤️,” another supporter gushed.
Even her famous friends showered her with compliments.
My neighbor pelted my car with eggs because he claimed it obstructed the view of his Halloween decorations
When sleep-deprived mom Genevieve discovers her car covered in eggs, she thinks it’s a prank — until her smug neighbor Brad admits he did it because her car was ruining the view of his elaborate Halloween display. Furious but too exhausted to argue, Genevieve vows to teach him a lesson.
I was bone-tired, the kind of tired where you can barely remember if you’ve brushed your teeth or fed the dog.
My days had become a blur since the twins were born.
Don’t get me wrong, Lily and Lucas were my adorable darlings, but wrangling two newborns mostly by myself was a Herculean task. I hadn’t slept a full night in months. Halloween was just around the corner and the neighborhood buzzed with excitement, but not me.
I could hardly muster the energy to decorate, let alone keep up with the suburban festivities.
Then there was Brad.
The man took Halloween so seriously that you’d think his life depended on it. Every year, he turned his house into a haunted carnival complete with gravestones, dioramas of skeletons, huge jack-o’-lanterns, the works.
And the smug look on his face every time someone complimented him? Please.
His spectacle enamored the entire block. But me? I was too busy trying to keep my eyes open to care about Brad’s ridiculous haunted house.
It was a typical October morning when everything started to unravel.
I shuffled outside with Lily on one hip and Lucas cradled in my arm. I blinked at the sight before me. Somebody had egged my car! Broken bits of shell were stuck in the semi-congealed goo, which was dripping down the windshield like some twisted breakfast special.
“Are you kidding me?” I muttered, staring at the mess.
I had parked in front of Brad’s house the night before. It’s not like I had much choice. The twins’ stroller was impossible to push all the way from down the street, so I’d parked close to our door.
At first, I thought it had to be a prank. But when I noticed the egg splatters reached all the way to Brad’s front porch, my suspicion turned into certainty.
This had Brad written all over it.
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