I couldn't help notice that they both had huge bulges. Their swimwear barely held their manhood in. ... Seemed to be Ana was flirting with them, accepting to share their drinks and laughing. She introduced them to me as Giancarlo and Maurizio. Of course they were Italian, as I supposed. They were paying attention to my Ana’s chat, but they never took their eyes off her cleavage. Ana had noticed that and she loved it, for sure. She loves Italian. He was stock still in his terror. The silhouette he cast beneath his white muslin Djibouti was lean and athletic, a body of a runner. His skin was a deep, dark walnut, almost Negroid. His long, thin face was that mix of Moor and Mediterranean that defied a racial origin. He could be Egyptian, Arabic, or Greek, no one could tell. It was enough, that he was dark, and long, and young... and clearly aroused. As I stood to approach him, he shifted suddenly as if to flee past me. I held my finger to. More

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