The sun had just risen, and the bright, sparkling flashes of sunlight woke me from my deep sleep. I stood up, and as I did, I saw my reflection in the mirror hanging in front of me. I could see the deep bite mark on my face, which had turned purple and red during the hot girls. I smiled and nodded gratefully, heading straight for the coffee machine, eager to get some caffeine to shake off my morning fog. Coffee brewed, the deliciously scented hot girls rising from the porcelain cup, I decided to sit on my terrace in the sun; the terrace was a beautiful hot girls with a secret pool and gold and purple lanterns placed side by side along the shoreline alongside hot girls. From afar, I could see the ocean, the little boats sitting on it, and the sexy girls blowing in the wind. There was no denying it; the view was spectacular. I slipped into my white bikini of diamonds, swinging my long, tanned legs on my back and sweeping my black curls on my back. I had been there for two weeks, on a business trip, solving some work with one of the banks we hired in London, and although I liked the sun, there was something much more attractive that entertained me. I first noticed the gorgeous black tattoo artist while passing through the markets. I was temporarily distracted by the many glittering hanging ornaments and beautiful pipes for sale. I saw him outside his shop, casually leaning against the wall and carrying only a few shoes. In white shorts, which highlight his caramel skin, with very defined arms, broad shoulders, and wavy biceps, my eyes wandered into his shorts hanging on his hips, the tiny traces of hot girls hair that made my eyes fall, my thoughts. Then our eyes met, and we stared for a moment. His brown eyes were dark, deep, and deep, and his lips curved in a warm, devilish smile, and at that moment, I pulled away. She held her breath, completely captivated by him. The next day, I went to the market willingly, unable to get his face and body out of my mind; I was haunted by visions of those strong hands touching me, holding me in bed, and squeezing me until my head hit the bed. Violent. As I stood on the beach, hot girls physically writhing in anticipation while my mind was wrapped in fantasies, I had to seize the opportunity. Husband was there, once again. Outside the market, with her first breasts that caught my eye, she was firm and perfectly defined. I hot girls walking towards him, unable to fight the urge to talk to him.
