Blessed Body Curves Novels & Stories

Just – just fucking enough. Curtis rested one hand on her stomach, moved the other to her hip, and she opened her eyes. She watched as he traced the curve of her body with his fingertip. “Look at this,” he said to her. “Look at this shape… nothing more stunning than a woman with curves, baby.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” He traced the line of her body up to her shoulder, then slid back down to her thigh. “A woman ain’t about hard lines, not for me. She’s all about soft curves, and you? You’ve got ‘em, sweetness.”

That concern was short-lived when she came into my line of vision. I sucked in a sharp breath, my gaze drifting down her body as a low, husky whisper escaped my lips. "Damn it." The curves she now possessed were not the result of poverty, nor was it the result of suffering. The black leather skirt hugged her hips and thighs, emphasizing the new shape of her body. If I hadn't seen her financial condition with my own eyes, I would have thought she'd undergone a surgery. This is a result of childbirth.

she mumbles as she caresses his face. "Go, you don't have to be afraid; you know that I love my women striking and curvy." He winked at her. "We can continue where we left off..." She smiles at him as she gets up, making me see her whole body dress. A short kneel-length body hug-red gown. She is exposing the whole of her back to her waist end. Her curvy figure was —Very manipulative shape, her big breast firm at the top of her neck. Her dark hair is in a deep curl, with too much make-up, as if she's a slut in a movie.

As she slid out of her leggings, the long, sculpted lines of her legs and the gentle curve of her hips were revealed, offering a tantalising glimpse of her toned derriere. With each movement, Rachna exuded a captivating blend of power and grace. Her core and leg muscles flexed with an innate confidence due to countless hours honing her physique. Her every gesture hinted at the athlete within, a potent reminder of the discipline and dedication that had sculpted her into a paragon of physical prowess. Rachna was a masterpiece, a harmonious fusion of beauty and strength, a formidable presence both on and off the field.

Posed like a model, she instinctively emphasized the glorious curves of her voluptuous feminine figure. David was lost, his mouth opens in a delicious lust. The sight of her nudity was incredibly alluring; he was spellbound. From her head to toenails, he couldn't find a single imperfection, she was absolutely breathtaking. Posed like she was, her body seemed to be made of the purest white marble; a masterly sculpted statue of a beautiful goddess.

Curves in all the right places, a natural artistry that makes my mind feel like it’s about to split into two, one half screaming in alarm, the other half roaring in pure, unadulterated desire. The sun, a benevolent spotlight, catches her, illuminating the delicate planes of her face, the rich, warm tone of her caramel skin. She glows. Truly, madly, deeply glows. She’s the most exquisite, beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life. And then there is that ass. That utterly perfect, beautiful curve, a testament to some divine sculptor. She's wearing denim shorts. Or should I say, *bum shorts*, as some ladies call them. They are practically so short that the fabric barely skims the apex of her

It’s almost enough to forgive the deity for making us wait over thirty years. Chesed focused on her image in the bathrobe, and how it hung just right allowed a hint of her cleavage. The top she’d been wearing before was so oversized it was hard to really see her figure. But the robe was tied tight, and we could tell she had a healthy curvy body and ample enough bosom. Groaning again, Chesed reached down and began stoking our hardon, picturing Crista.

"God I wish I had those curves." "Mira what are you talking about, you have the perfect body." She did tho, though not that Tamara and I fell behind but my curves came with a bit soft spots around my body, especially my stomach, did I mind it... a bit, yet not enough to starve myself in order to get rid of it. Mira shook her head, playfully rolling her eyes. "Please, you both have the kind of curves that make people take a second look. And I’m over here like oh, right, I have curves too, but they just happen to be more angular."

Each shad seems to have a distinct tone, creating a musical composition of dancing sounds in my mind. Looking down at my naked figure, I see my body as a work of art; every muscle group is distinct, defined, and rippling with strength. Every curve and line is perfect and accentuated by the glowing energy pulsating beneath my skin as if it were carved from marble by the Goddesses themselves.

My reflection in the bathroom mirror becoming someone I recognized but hadn’t met before. The false weight the curse had engineered — the metabolic manipulation Dr. Chen had explained in the medical wing, the magical interference with my body’s natural state — was lifting. Not disappearing. Lifting, like weather clearing. What remained was mine: wide hips that were stronger now, soft curves over muscle that had always been there waiting, a body that moved with capability it hadn’t been allowed to demonstrate. I was still curvy. Still soft in the places I’d spent years being told were problems.