Bruce Greenwood Nude Novels & Stories

I crept closer and pushed the door open just enough to see inside. Michael was standing there with his back to me, jeans pushed down to his thighs. His hand was pumping up and down on a thick, veiny cock. Fuck, it was bigger than I imagined. Eight inches at least, heavy balls swinging as he stroked. He was jerking off fast, desperate. On his phone screen was a picture of me. A nude. Taken when I was in the shower last week. I didn’t even know anyone had snapped that photo. Water was running down my tits, my nipples hard, one hand between my legs.

It's a mound of muscle with the ideal jiggle, sending heat to my sex with every bounce. "That is not your ass!" I say without thinking, smiling because I know I must be right. The guy on the screen is rocking, sweating hot, and the real Wilder can't possibly be hiding that beneath his clothes. Then again, I've never seen him wear tight enough pants. "Is that a fill-in or something? Greenscreen??

This time he let me unfasten it, helping me push his pants and boxer briefs down his legs until he stood naked before me. The sight of him,powerfully built, every muscle defined, his arousal impressive and fully evident,made my mouth go dry. This was Alexander Blackwood stripped of all his careful armor, literal and metaphorical. For the first time since I'd known him, nothing was hidden, nothing held in reserve.

Janice had a bad feeling about this. Her hands shook as she ran out of the bridal suite. As soon as she looked up, she saw it—the giant screen that was supposed to be playing a beautiful wedding montage now showed photos of her in bed with Bruce! Bruce, dressed in a white tuxedo, was shouting hysterically. "Turn it off! Turn the video off! Turn it off now!" But no matter how hard he jabbed at the remote, the screen didn't respond at all. It just kept looping those explicit clips and photos.

It had taken me a while to get used to them, and still I had a hard time looking him in the eyes. I groaned, slapping my forehead. I couldn't seem to take the image out of my head. The image of his muscular form, standing tall and nude in all his glory, his arousal huge and erect. My cheeks warmed in embarrassment as the image replayed over and over in my head. I had never seen a nude, good-looking man up close. And he was gorgeous. My cheeks flamed again at my thoughts.

But her bra was gone, but to my actual disappointment, she was holding her big tits with her hands, covering her nîpples. I found myself actually wanting to see this young girl naked. Then another photo came. Brooke was on her hands and knees, facing away from the phone. Her arse completely exposed except for her thong that just about covered her. I could see her big tîts hanging beneath her but I still couldn't see her nipples. As I stared at it, drooling, my phone started to ring and I saw it was her. I panicked, being sat at my desk I realised that if anyone looked over they could've seen what I was looking at.

Bruce laid Beverly down on the black and white leopard print comforter in her bedroom. Then he straddled her hips and pulled his shirt out of his jeans. Bruce pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his bulging muscled chest sprinkled with brown hair and hard as a rock six-pack abs. Thank God there isn’t a law against a man being this sexy.

I leave the altar and rush to grab one brochure from a nearby guest and open it. And my soul leaves my body. There I am on page one. Naked... everything on display. With another one of my side partners on top of me. My back, my tattoos, the curve of my body, all caught in perfect, high-resolution detail. Another photo depicts me in a hot tub with a pair of individuals from training camp, intoxicated, plus a blurred girl performing inappropriate actions within a public spa. My chest turns to ice. The next page is worse.

I toss it aside and slip off my underwear, watching as my wetness thins out in a form of a fragile creamy thread that links my cunt to my cotton panties, until it breaks and sticks to my thighs. “Fuck.” I let my underwear drop and I stand in the middle of my dirty, never-should-have-been studio, and in front of a portrait. It's a close-up shot that features only my faceless obsession, from the start of his collarbone, down to his torso, and stops an inch below his knee. He’s naked. Feral. Still, as if waiting for me to kneel. To submit. Erect veined cock, muscular limbs, muscles hard with years of discipline.

Just as I stepped through the door, my phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down and squinted. No name. Just an unknown number. Hmm… Strange. The picture loaded slowly, then it appeared. My eyes went wide the second it came into focus. My hands shook so hard I almost dropped the phone. Nico was in it. He was naked, lying on his side. Nico’s eyes were closed. He looked like he was asleep. His arm was draped over a blonde‑haired woman, pulling her close against him. Her bare back was to the camera.