Anne Marquis Nude Novels & Stories

“Nightclubs, nude photos, barely-there dresses… Em, seriously.” “Hey,” the words nude photos caught her attention, and she crossed the room, to stand by the bed. She was surprised to see herself suntanning topless on one. Thankfully, the magazine had placed stars across her nipples, she thought. On the cover, at least, she amended, annoyed and embarrassed, when the image inside did not do the same. “That was a private pool. Who took this photo?” She was angry now, the taste of it bitter in her mouth.

Tomorrow was supposed to be my engagement party with my fiance, Jason Miller. To surprise him, I flew back a day earlier after spending three long years studying abroad in London. The moment my plane landed, I called him. But he just laughed and casually dropped a bombshell. He had lost a high-stakes poker game, and he had just wagered me off to his friend as a free maid for a month. Before I could even speak, my phone lit up with a notification. He had added me to his wealthy inner-circle group chat. The title was vicious. [Congrats to Marcus on his new ugly maid!] Jason dropped a photo of me, from before I left the country, into the chat. In the picture, my skin was broken out,

The humiliation, the degradation, the sheer audacity of it all, seemed to fuel her, transforming her from a shy, lonely woman into a brazen, demanding slut. One evening, the camera was set up in the living room, facing the worn sofa. Eleanor sat there, naked, her massive body spilling over the cushions. Her breasts, enormous and heavy, hung low, her nipples dark and engorged. Her belly, a soft mountain of flesh, jiggled with every breath. Her pussy, a dark, inviting slit, was already glistening. Mark sat in an armchair opposite them, the camera resting on a tripod, a small monitor displaying the live feed. He held a remote, his fingers hovering over the record button.

Jasper says apologetically rushing over with Marcus at his side. I glance at Marcus; momentarily distracted by his workout shorts and grey tank top, the kind that dip really low at the sides showing off every delicious muscle Goddess Morrtemis blessed him with. I fight the urge to gulp and mentally think over what I’m wearing. Got my hair in a ponytail, am wearing a black sports bra and blue, white, and black cheetah print leggings. Do I look okay? Wait, why should I care? “It’s not wrong to want to look good for our animai, Amelia. It’s only natural. Trust me you look great and I’m sure him seeing this much skin is going to make him suffer,” Zara sniggers. Her words give me some satisfactio

Hurried back home as fast as possible, barely making it to my room before stripping myself naked. I jumped on the bed and my phone was out in seconds, pulling up my favorite BBC p**n site. But tonight, it was not random videos. I closed my eyes and pictured Coach Marcus. That massive frame towering over me with his shorts down, revealing a thick black cock bigger than any I had seen online. Veined, heavy, and a glistening tip.

And yet… There it was. Beth Monroe. Naked. Unfiltered. Unapologetically gorgeous. The lighting was soft and golden, as if she’d taken it by a window just after sunrise. The curve of her hip. The soft swell of her breasts. That tiny shadow where her thighs met—and the suggestion of everything just beyond it. A completely accidental message. A completely inappropriate photo. And the part of me that should’ve been stronger—the part that knew better—was suddenly very, very quiet.

I untied the shirt, then proceeded to unbutton it, until I could feel the cold of the car's air conditioner on my skin. "Very good." He complimented. "Now the bra, please." I shivered as I undid the hooks of my nude bra. I wished I had on something sexier. I made haste to unhook it, then slid the straps down my arms. "Such pretty breasts." Mariano commented. I held my breath. One rough callused finger traced the curve of my breast. I felt the familiar panic climb up my nerves. "Breathe, tesoro mio." He said softly. "It's just me. You're mine. I'm only touching what's mine."

No problem, my cock was already hard. "Sometimes Ronnie would be naked when he shot the videos," Maryanne said as she unfastened her bra and tossed it to her husband. Mark's expression was priceless. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he asked excitedly. "So you were looking at his naked cock on those videos?" Maryanne silently nodded as she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. Her eyes were nearly closed as she continued to sway to the music, wearing only her lacy thong.

"I’m ruined! How can I live knowing that everyone has seen my nudes?!" "Technically, you aren’t really nude in them―" Annalise said. The entire family had read the article put out by Lady Vanity and saw the resulting photos― her straddling Matteo in nothing but her underwear, the both of them tangled in his bedsheets, her bra, half-falling off her shoulders to reveal a swell of creamy breast. If they were from a weaker family, Annalise was sure that her phone would be blowing up with all sorts of obscene offers from movie directors.

The photos featured her back as she showered, as she was putting on her underclothes… When the pictures came to an end, there was a video. In the video, Amanita was holding onto Marcus’s clothes. Her face was red with embarrassment as she sniffed the clothes. At the same time, she reached down beneath her clothes to touch herself. “Oh, Marcus, I love you so much,” Amanita said in the video shyly. Meanwhile, Amanita herself was having a breakdown. She looked at Marcus in devastation. Tears started to flow from her eyes.