The MENA Babe and Her White Bull

Something was different in the gym that day. She felt it. As soon as she stepped close to the gym, she smelled it in the air: the pungent, striking odor of… male.

Potent male.

Like… a crotch.

Like sniffing the fat, hung cock hanging limply from a sweaty, manly crotch.

A fat monster cock sleeping idly, softly between two potent, muscular legs.

Lick.

Lick.

Lick.

The princess licked her lips. Even just stepping outside the gym, feeling the soft sands of the beach under her tiny, delicate feet, she knew there was something new and unique—and manly—inside it.

A new arrival, perhaps?

It was too common, in that region, to have new people coming and going. It was the wealthiest area in the state, and one of the wealthiest in the country—in the world, for that matter—so new faces came and went with the mood of the markets.

In times of prosperity, newly-minted rich folks moved in.

In times of crash, many of them left, though some stayed.

Years later, when the new prosperity rolled around, so rolled in the new faces—and on and on and on indefinitely, just like the motions of the waves.

She wondered whether she would be one of the people going, one of the losers leaving, whenever the next crash rolled around. She had moved in just a few years earlier, and she was starting to get used to that place. To call it home.

An idyllic beachfront community. The wealthiest, hottest people in the world gathered there. To be there, it was like being a god. To be recognized as such.

A god.

A queen.

Or a princess.

She saw herself as one. “The Arabian princess”, many called her, though she was actually mostly Egyptian, with a lot of Mediterranean blood sprinkled in.

Almost everyone in that place was Whit, so she always struggled a bit to fit in—but when you’re hot enough, almost every sin is forgiven, and every difference is conveniently papered over.

In any case, when beauty didn’t suffice (and it always did in her case), money would make up for the difference.

Anyway, anyway…

She stepped into the gym that day, and the environment was charged. The air smelled like horses and bulls.

Like big men.

Like potent studs.

Like big, tall, muscular guys overflowing with testosterone and big swinging dicks, ready to show off their potent muscled and hard bodies to the countless prospective mates in that wealthy place.

She’d had her share of flings there, but they were always brief and underwhelming. Though she was only 24, she had moved in mostly with the intent to “retire”, having accumulated dozens of millions of dollars with a mix of pornography, crypto bets, and very smart, savvy investments in the beauty and fitness industry.

She craved men and beauty above all, and power and strength as well, but her lovers always came up short of her (frankly unreasonable) expectations, so she just learned to relax and… take life in strides.

Like that beach.

That peaceful, too-wealthy-for-its-own-good community where time seemed to move half as fast as everywhere else on that planet.

That was a place for relaxation and love, never for work.

So, again, when she moved there, she thought that her life was pretty much “solved.” She had already made all the money she would ever need, met the hottest guys the world had to offer, and found enough peace with herself to learn to live alone for decades, if needed.

Even at that early age, she already thought she had figured out everything that was to figure out about life.

Until that day.

Until that fateful day when she stepped into the gym, grains of sand leaving her petite, delicate feet to seep through the spaces in the wooden floor, and met the biggest man in her life.