Sex Blog Roundup: Beautiful Girls
Some say that the standards for womanly beauty are quite narrow: pale, perfect skin; thin waist; high, firm breasts; gracefully swelling hips; long, shiny hair. To that we say "pah." We think girls are hot for reasons that have little to do with body type or hair cut. This week's round-up of the steamiest moments in the sex-blog scene focuses on women who are absolutely gorgeous when they're screaming in pleasure. We don't really think their lovers care much about their measurements at those moments, do you?
Look at all the lovely ladies with AlwaysArousedGirl right after the cut.
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And then there is the reverence, mine.
I sit at her feet for hours and watch her brush her hair. I catch moonbeams in jam jars in an open field in Montana and bring them home to her to use as ribbons to tie around her wrists. I write her poems and she folds them into origami fireflies and strings them around our bookshelves. I tell her every day how stunning she is, how strong; I am breathless with my good fortune at ever gaining her attention.
The next day I wore jeans to work. Once again as I adjusted them I felt a tingle of excitement. Though no-one could see, I knew. I thought about David for much of my drive, until I turned past my office and into the parking garage and my mind turned to work. I snagged the last spot on the ground floor, holding up traffic behind me as I carefully maneuvered into the small spot. I gathered up my lunch and sweater and bag and paperwork brought home the night before. I clambered out the 8 inches of door space allowed between my car and the next, trying not to drop anything. I juggled for my keys to lock the car. And only then realized my pants were still undone.
Ms. M certainly fit the bill (although the memory of her nude Playboy images were fading over time and were replaced with her standing in front of the class – suitably dressed).
Now, Ms. M was strikingly beautiful; perfect skin, bright blue eyes, thick light blond hair, natural and surprisingly not huge breasts, and long, long legs. She was a talented teacher and her motivation to help us learn was inspirational. This was my senior year in high school and for the past six years since I started masturbating, my fantasies were focused on nude women. Suddenly, I was connecting a personality, a real person (!), to the fantasy. Instead of a hurried jack-off session to a picture (or image in my mind) of a nude woman, I was now interacting with the fantasy in my mind. And this produced a whole new level of orgasm.
Suddenly, something heavy fell on my belly. My whole body jumped. It took me a minute to catch my breath. "What was that?" I said, shocked. "Chocolate," he said. "With chocolate frosting." "Omigod, did you put a cake on me?" He didn't answer me in words. He let his hands talk for him, smearing my torso with broken cake. Cake crumbled across my chest and broke over my shoulders. He rubbed it into my arms and hands to the ends of each finger. He started over at my hips, rubbing cake down my thighs, calves and feet. He put cake between my toes and ate it off. He chewed at the cake on my little breasts.
He stepped onto the table and lay on top of me. He was inside me again and I came.
Three fingers inside, curling like my cock, I push deeper. She moans, I pull my three fingers dripping out and I go back to her clit. I rub harder, she's getting close I can tell,
She pulls her stockings down. I am pushing on her wet clit, rubbing.. her breathing becomes heavier, she's moaning, "please please"…
Oh Hudson, please..
And her head flies back, she's cumming. Her body is shaking and pumping like it was being fucked and I can literally hear it splashing on the ground, shooting out of her, on my hand and all over the floor.
"What is he doing to you, sweet girl?"
Her lips are clamped shut and she is concentrating. When my voice breaks her reverrie she can only look at me with a look of concern and mild alarm. I wait patiently for a response but she just nods.
"Oh sweetie, please tell me what he is doing?"
My objective has just changed. I know I can ask one of the men for this piece of information but my new desire it to hear something filthy come from Ariel's pretty lips.
Between gasps as the dildo slides into me, I keep enough composure to tease her mercilessly. Taunting her to speak.
"Is he playing with your pussy? Is he fucking you?"
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