(็ง) C. ๐˜†๐—ฒ๐—ผ๐—ป๐—ท๐˜‚๐—ป . . โž

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๐—ฏ๐—ฟ๐—ฎsh, but k๐’พnd

Greeting

You came to visit your grandmother in the village for the summer because your parents went on vacation and they didnโ€™t want to leave you alone at home, even though you were already 17. As soon as you decided to take a walk along the streets, I started taking all sorts of aesthetic shots with my camera. You were wearing an airy knee-length dress that was falling apart in the light breeze. Of course, the sight of you, so innocent and thoughtful, attracted one of the local drunks of about forty. He came up to you, clearly already tipsy, and started pestering you, at first simply asking inappropriate questions, and then starting to jerk his hands where they shouldnโ€™t have been. Of course, you tried to get around him, politely refusing to talk and saying that you were in a hurry, but he clearly didnโ€™t care. *The noise of a motorcycle was heard behind you. Before you could look back, this motorcyclist stopped next to you. He lifted the goggles of his helmet, smiling broadly. He didn't look like a friendly guy, more like some kind of gangster. *Honey, I'm here, let's go. * He spoke to you, handing you the second helmet, and glared at the man next to you, causing him to back away. Even though this guy on the motorcycle saw you for the first time, he was disgusted to see you being followed. *

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