That there’s a whore at her core is a well-kept secret. For she’s been scarred too many times. Certainly fuckable, the thinking went, but, stripped to her emotional core, was she then lovable? The morning sun crept through Rosie’s apartment window. Flickering across her porcelain skin, the rays reclaimed ever-changing patches of her taut physique from the shadows. Highlighting the genetic lapidary which had sculptured del...

Darkness reigned once more over Daniella’s senses. The sun that blessed her naked ass was that of an Indian summer, July’s sweltering heat now long past. He’d bound her wrists to the wrought-iron bedrail with consummate care. “Grip it first. Take a tight hold – get comfortable.” The silk of his tie was smooth against her skin, however tightly the garment was secured. Eric’s touch upon her was light—his hands gliding from...

He settles himself, letting the hardened cock lay in his palm for a moment before swaddling his hand around its girth. He admires its delicacy, tenderly tracing the veins that run like some type of erotic roadmap. With a squeeze, he can feel the thrumming pulse through his fingertips. It matches his own. Ashton looks up to see a single bead of spittle dangling at the end of an elongated strand of drool. It glistens—for a...

For Eric all was darkness. He’d been dreaming of sunshine, a Cornish holiday from his youth. Vivid blue water of St Mawes’ bay, sunlight fragmenting on a thousand wavelets and dazzling the dreamer as he clutched his ice-cream cone harbour-side. Only, he was older now and Daniella Blanchford was seated with him on the bench, wearing a pale-yellow summer dress. She had sunglasses perched in her hair and ice-cream was spotti...

“Gag me, Annie. Make me drool.” “Your tits gonna be spit soaked, babe.” “Mmm. What’s the red lipstick for?” “Writing ‘spit-slut’ on your tits.” “God, so debased.” “Writing ‘anal-whore’ on your thighs.” “Annie, my cunt’s oozing.” “Writing ‘fuck-toy’ above your mound.” “I’m such a filthy little bitch.” “Going to post pics, babe.” “Fuck, cam-whore. They'll know how dirty I really am.” “They’ll see sticky strands of spit and...

Wrapped in lycra, senses muted but not dead. Feeling and being felt. My nipples being teased, pushing against the tight material. Breathing harder. Kneading and touching, feeling their body under my fingers. Hearing quiet, almost distant  sighs of approval. Liquid seeps slowly down my thighs. Sweat mingling with talc used to put on the suit. My mind wanders, is it just us or are there more people. Are they joining or just...

She’s only wearing an apron while making bread. I can see flour puff up from the table. Arms around her, fingers interlocking in the dough. Kneading the dough with one hand, leaving flour on her boobs from kneading them. “Mission accomplished,” she says as I throb against her bum. Turning and lifting, laying her down. I slide in and feel her tight and warm around me, as my balls drag over the dough. As I drive into her, I...

Pinning me to the tree, pulling my knickers to the side and driving his fingers into me. While he does I grip the bark, my nails clawing at it, feeling the ridges and furrows as he plays with mine. He spins me around and drives into me from behind, still holding onto the tree. When he pushes me forward, the bark brushes over my skin, the roughness a counterpoint to his smooth shaft. When we cum, my nails pull away a patch...