[Yasin name in 2006 2nd world will be Adrian, Yasin in both world is confusing. Sorry for the inconvenience.]
The moment Vivian Sinclair unzipped her zipper and bent over, a pair of tempting breasts were about to spill out.
Firm, round, white, elastic, and plump, her breasts were barely contained by a black bikini top, threatening to burst free.
Vivian leaned her massive chest onto the table, making her already enormous, perky breasts even more seductive—swollen, full, and abundant, as if they might pop out at any second.
As a world-class supermodel and renowned as the second most beautiful woman in the world, Vivian Sinclair possessed a body that made men drool.
Big breasts, a slim waist, perky buttocks, long legs, and delicate, porcelain-white skin…
Nearly every desirable trait a woman could have was concentrated in Vivian, making every inch of her body irresistibly tempting.
Under the dual influence of alcohol and lust, Yasin's cock stiffened abruptly, throbbing with a dull ache.
Perhaps it was due to the energy absorbed from the zombie brain cores he had harvested earlier, but Yasin's desire burned hotter than usual today. His hardened length pressed painfully against his pants, straining the fabric to its limit.
The heat radiating from his cock sent waves of warmth through his body. Yasin's skin grew feverish, his breath uneven.
Any man would struggle to resist such a breathtakingly sexy woman.
To make matters worse, Vivian began tracing delicate circles on the back of Yasin's hand with her slender fingers, her expression intoxicated and dreamy.
Too drunk to notice Yasin's tension, Vivian suddenly stood after a few murmured words. "I drank too much," she said shyly.
"I need to use the bathroom… Yasin, as a gentleman, you mustn't follow me…"
With that, she turned, swaying her voluptuous hips as she headed toward the front door.
Though tipsy, Yasin remained alert. The moment he saw her staggering toward the exit, he realized the danger—if Vivian opened that door in her drunken state, they'd both be dead by morning.
"Vivian—" He moved to stop her, but as he rounded the corner, he froze.
Vivian stood with one toned leg braced against a water tank, her back to Yasin, peeling off her black leather shorts in a slow, indecent motion.
"Uh… What is she doing?" Yasin's breath hitched as her shorts slid down, releasing her round, pert buttocks into the open air.
They popped out.
There was no better word for it.
Vivian's ass popped free, jiggling with every slight movement, the supple flesh rippling like water.
Yasin's eyes widened. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to grab those luscious cheeks and knead them roughly. He nearly turned back to the table—until Vivian suddenly bent forward, her plump, pale backside lifting toward him.
From his angle, Yasin had a perfect view of her pink anal folds and the plump, glistening slit between her thighs.
Her skin was flawless, and the pussy beneath those full cheeks was an immaculate shade of pink. Whether waxed or naturally bare, Vivian's sex was pristine—no stray hairs, just plump.
The labia were thick and full, resembling steamed buns, snugly cradling her mons.
Then, Yasin watched as her pussy twitched.
The lips parted slightly, and a stream of translucent, faintly orange liquid arced out.
"Zizz~~~~"
The sound of urine hitting the sink mingled with Vivian's soft sigh of relief. "Hmm~~"
She must've been holding it in for a while.
Since the kitchen lacked a toilet, it made sense for her to use the sink.
Remembering his past relationship with Vivian in the second world, Yasin felt an odd pang of guilt—but beneath it, something darker stirred.
If he slept with Vivian now… would it be wrong?
Yasin fantasized about inserting his cock into Vivian Sinclair's tight vagina, then gripping her beautiful buttocks and thrusting wildly. The physical pleasure, combined with the psychological thrill, would be nothing short of wonderful.
Seeing Vivian about to finish peeing, Yasin didn't dare to keep watching. He quickly turned away and quietly returned to his seat.
Not long after, Vivian came back, but this time, she sat right beside Yasin, draping an arm over his shoulders and pulling him gently into her embrace.
"Yas... promise me... don't leave me, okay? Being with you... makes me so happy... so safe... Just don't abandon me, and I'll do anything you ask... anything..."
Perhaps exhaustion from tension, lack of rest, and the alcohol had taken their toll—before she could finish, Yasin realized Vivian had passed out.
Pressed against her chest, Yasin's face was smothered in the soft, warm fullness of Vivian's snow-white breasts. The delicate, elastic sensation, mingled with her faint, intoxicating scent, made him feel like a child cradled in his mother's arms.
The connection between their worlds was strange. Though Yasin knew they shared no blood relation, there was an undeniable undercurrent of maternal affection in how she treated him. And for Vivian, her feelings toward him seemed a mix of dependence, admiration, pride, and even a hint of motherly love.
Yasin nuzzled comfortably against Vivian's breasts before glancing up at her sleeping face. Tears glistened in her eyes, yet her lips curled in a faint, contented smile.
The dim light and pale moonlight streaming through the window made her look ethereal—elegant, beautiful, and irresistibly alluring, like the goddess of the night herself.
"Vivian..." Yasin whispered.
"You didn't finish what you were saying. What exactly would you do for me?"
He shifted, cradling her in his arms, and murmured the question against her ear.
"Hmm~~~"
The tickling sensation made Vivian let out a soft moan, her cheeks flushing pink.
Holding her like this was pure bliss.
Turning off the kitchen light, Yasin admired Vivian's delicate features in the moonlight. He brushed a hand through her chestnut curls.
She must have bathed in preparation for his arrival—a luxury, given the scarcity of water. Up close, he could see she'd taken care with her appearance. Though makeup-free, her natural beauty outshone any magazine cover. She looked real, raw, and utterly pure.
The scent of her hair filled his senses—nothing like the disheveled mess from the day before.
Vivian's features were exquisite: large blue eyes, long lashes, a perfectly straight nose, and those full, tempting lips...
Everything about her was intoxicating.
Especially those lips. Yasin ached to crush his mouth against them, to explore with his tongue.
In terms of facial beauty, Lena Whitmore might align more with Yasin's preferences—he considered her more classically beautiful.
But when it came to raw, magnetic allure?
Vivian Sinclair was unmatched.
Her body was a work of art—curves so perfect, they seemed unreal.
Yasin had seen voluptuous figures in his past life, but most were either photoshopped or surgically enhanced. Many looked stunning in pictures but disappointing in person, their proportions awkward and unnatural.
Vivian was different.
Her body was entirely natural. In 1993, plastic surgery wasn't widespread, and photo editing barely existed.
Vivian's figure was devilish, her beauty completely authentic.
Her toned thighs, perky backside, and full, rounded breasts balanced flawlessly with her narrow waist. Every inch of her was harmonious, natural, and breathtaking.
Gazing at the swell of her breasts peeking from her collar, Yasin finally gave in to desire. His hands grew bold, exploring what his eyes had feasted on.