Annie Murphy Nudes Novels & Stories

Aria stood outside the converted warehouse in Manhattan's Meatpacking District, checking the address on her phone one more time. This was it. Damien Cross Photography Studio. Damien Cross. The Damien Cross. The photographer whose work hung in MoMA and the Guggenheim. Whose controversial nude series had caused scandals and made millions. Whose subjects became famous simply by being photographed by him. And he was looking for a new muse. Aria was twenty-five, a struggling artist working three jobs to pay rent on a studio apartment the size of a closet. She'd seen the casting call online: Seeking female model, 21-30, comfortable with artistic nudity, long-term project, substantial compensation.

she asked, genuinely surprised that he would verbally acknowledge what had transpired. He stammered then, suddenly unsure. "Mr. Murphy," she started. "I think it's pretty clear that I'm an exhibitionist. I like when people look at me. I like being objectified," she said. "Being nude is liberating and it makes me happy, so when people look at me and like... enjoy it... I get chills. It's very exciting!" She briefly thought about mentioning how much she liked to suck cock, but figured that it didn't pertain to the conversation as much.

She went over to the coffee table, and picked up the pictures of her and her friends. She was totally nude in all of them. In one she was sitting on the edge of the hot-tub, her friend Misty climbing out beside her. In another she was leaning back, and Misty was rubbing her tits against Krista's; an unidentifiable blonde was turned away from the camera in the background. The third was by far the most incriminating. Krista was in the house, lying on my bed, her eyes open wide and her mouth forming an 'O'. Misty was lying beside her, on her stomach, her legs spread with a clear view to her closely cropped twat. In this one, my wife was sitting on the edge of the bed drying her hair with a towe

“She deserves it, don’t you think?” “I warned you, Rika. We wouldn’t do this.” “Gosh, since when have you started to care, Cami?” “All I know is you should not have done this.” ******* Maura’s naked pictures went viral across the town. To be honest, I was feeling pity for her as her naked pictures had tormented her in school. She even stopped coming to school for a couple of days. Scott was worried about his girlfriend as she didn’t want to meet anyone else, not even Scott.

Five naked women stood before me in the centre of the studio. The afternoon light poured through the tall glass walls and painted their bodies in shifting gold and shadow. Every curve, every dip, every tremor was illuminated. Skin tones ranged from porcelain to deep mahogany. Breasts varied from small and high to full and heavy. Nipples stood erect in the cool air. Pussies were smooth, trimmed, or left natural—each one already glistening with anticipation or nerves or both. Their breathing filled the silence: shallow, uneven, excited.

It’s nice and quiet in the park. “You’re a freshman, right? Why do you know my baby Wilder right away!” shouted one of the girls in irritation. “Isn’t he the most handsome man here in our University? He’s even a varsity player! He’s also MVP! He’s got such a beautiful body that he can drop his panties!” she laughed and said. “Well, I don’t wear panties anymore, so it’s easier for him!” They laughed. “My gosh, what do his red and thin lips taste like? I’m sure it’s soft! Maybe it’s good too!” The other one said as if she was tickled.

With Phin in her life now, it was easy to be optimistic. She also had told Phin about the nude photos she’d done when she’d been desperate. He hadn’t been happy about them, only because he’d hated that she’d done something she hadn’t wanted to do just to survive. “Take whatever photos you want and make all the money you want,” he’d said, “but keep the nude ones just for me, okay?” That hadn’t been a difficult bargain to fulfill, to say the least. “Emily,” said Phin softly. He brushed her forehead with gentle fingers. “Are you awake?”

A familiar face popped up on my screen, and I sat up with anticipation. There she was, the angel that captured my heart without having to lift a finger. She was bathed in the soft glow of the club, her body a canvas in a nude dress that left little to the imagination. Her figure was on full display through the soft material of her dress, the plunging neckline showcasing a tantalizing glimpse of her boobs. She sat with three other girls, her laughter captivating, her smile dazzling. The two girls next to her stared at her with an almost religious admiration. That's how beautiful Camila Colorado is.

I am sitting there, on the creaking bed, slumped like a man drained of everything, my eyes glued to the screen of my phone that refuses to turn off, as if it wants to force me to confront what I have always refused to see, over and over again, that frozen photo that tears at my insides. She is there, lying down, pale, hooked up to machines that seem to breathe for her, her face marked, swollen, damaged, as if the world had relentlessly made her pay for something she never committed, and here I am, miles away, geographically and morally, powerless, pathetic, terrified.

She had sure been tampering with her pussy, which looked swollen and gushing. Mira was holding her phone up, clearly taking pictures with her tits and pussy open. "What the fuck are you doing, you nasty bitch? " I asked, sauntering over with a huge smile on my face. My own cunt was starting to throb just watching her like this. Why wouldn't it?? Mira had a gorgeous body, and when she had her pussy open like that, it was a banger. "Sending my nudes to one of my sponsors." She shot back, clicking more photos.