When girls start shedding their winter layers, baring the tender, delicious, smooth new skin of spring, it’s all we can do to keep our eyes front.
It’s starting. The tossing off (hah!) of sweaters and jeans. The wearing of dresses on sweltering subway platforms. The open-toed shoes gracing beautiful feet at the ends of supple, toned, crossed legs in sidewalk cafés. It’s spring, and our favorite time of year at Fleshbot HQ. Each winter we forget how beautiful glistening, summer skin is. And each spring, as if overnight, every girl in the city is there to remind us. For your skintillation, Madeline’s rounded up some of the most succulent bits of flesh on the web. It’s a peeper’s paradise—where staring too long won’t get you anything but more turned on. Meanwhile, hone your ogling skills, because in real life, girls tend to dislike the obvious stare. Here, though, feel free to look all you want. It’s the Internet, after all.
Being naked means hands can wander. Fingers can stroke. Tongues can tease. You have unlimited access to everything that is usually concealed by clothing. Not even just the obvious, naughty bits. Shoulders and hips. Thighs and stomachs. Just endless amounts of bare skin to kiss and stroke and fondle and lick.
His body is arranged carefully to reflect mine, overlapping stars upon the bed, his knees pinning my forearms, his elbows incapacitating my spread thighs. His weight on my chest limits me to small breaths, and i become very still and quiet as he observes, his fingertips barely moving. I am aware of only the encompassing sensation of being minutely studied and the subsequent aching desire to be touched harder.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m wandering around the house naked, having just stripped off my stockings and about to get in the bath, when I hear my cell text message chime.
I fetch it, glance briefly at the message – “Fix me a drink and open the door,” then hear a strong knock.
She likes to play with my dick, hands slick with lubricant, my cock glistening between her clasped fingers. Part of the pleasure of coming this way is her enjoyment of having me between her hands, aching to come.
In the big bed, in her small flat I told her while she stroked me what I was thinking about: The view I had just had a little earlier, taking her from behind, stroking her tanned buttocks and gently holding a thick flesh-coloured butt plug in place while I fucked her, picking up the pace as she ground against me…
That first penetration, each morning, brought a rush of blood to his cheeks. Pushing, pushing, until he could slip under the surface with a shock and then a sigh. Taking each piece inside him, and savoring the textures of both the skin and the softness underneath. Teeth biting. Tongue tasting. Hands strong enough to rip everything apart, but holding back for simple surrender, a delicate dissection of a simple joy.
He sat on the bench and pulled me between his legs. A smile showed on his face as he reached up my skirt and slowly began to pull down my panties. I knew not to protest, not right now, that wasnt the game, and it was obvious by my wetness how much I wanted him. I quietly stepped out of the panties, leaving them on the ground. A treat for some wild animal or old man.