Chaotic Muse Nude Novels & Stories

she sobbed, her pussy gushing juices down his shaft. Across the room, Chelsea and Damien approached the missionary statue. Chelsea's heart pounded, her small frame trembling as she lay back on the floor, spreading her legs wide to reveal her pink pussy, already slick from the room's influence. Damien stripped off his shirt, his muscular chest heaving, and dropped his pants to let his long cock spring out, veined and throbbing. He positioned himself between her thighs, leaning down to capture her lips in a rough kiss, his tongue pushing into her mouth while she kissed back hungrily, tears streaming down her cheeks.

and the unfamiliar word "Shibari." My search results included: Recluse, Artist, Genius? Nathanial Monroe offers his proceeds to charity Rare sighting of N. Monroe The list went on. I clicked the first link. An erotic picture of a beautiful woman bound in thick white rope filled the top of the screen. Except for the female in the picture, it was...fucked up gay shit. So why did my dick stir at the image? Because I'm fucked up and gay, I thought to myself. No, not gay, but definitely fucked up.

On the bank of the beautiful, colorful river, bathed in moonlight, kneels a naked Nufira, actively working her mouth on Kays’ cock with enthusiastic smacking noises. For a second, I even think it might be some hallucination in my head, and I forcefully close my eyes. But when I open them, the scene remains the same.

I wanted this painting in my room. "You would be aroused 24X7, if this was in your room. You won’t get anything done!” Shade said with a sigh. “Maybe I want to do her. Only her. Wait, I sound like an asshole, which I am not!” She twisted around and then pulled up out of the water, showing taunting glimpses of her body. Her bra had gone translucent and her n*pples were visible. Every nerve in my body buzzed, and lust rippled inside my body, inside my blood, calling out to her. Chanting. It was something I couldn’t stop.

I swear, this man is trying to destroy all my clothing, so I’m forced to live nude. “So. Fucking. Perfect,” Chaos hissed, annunciating each word. He leaned down and gently bit my nipple. My back arched, and he took the opportunity to slide inside of my ready core. Gripping my leg, he pulled my knee up to reach the angle that makes my eyes roll. “Chaos,” I whimpered, “Talk to me.” His eyes bled black, “Tu attonitus es,” he moaned, “amabo te in perpetuum.”

he teased her. She slid her mouth from his dick, and said, "God, no! I need my slut-wife pussy fucked!" He tapped the arrow key until an image he had seen earlier popped up, and said, "Let's try this. You wouldn't have saved it if you didn't think it was hot." On the screen was a naked woman kneeling in an office chair with her dangling tits brushing the chair-back, her ass pointing out into the air, and her head hung over the back. Her arms were fed under the chair-back and her wrists were bound together around the post that held the back.

Adoration and lust. The way how the moonlight strikes her naked body was so wonderful that makes the scene more fantastic and enchanting. The way she combed her hair was so tempting. I wish I could also comb her soft and fragrant smell strawberry hair like that. And the way how the waterfalls into her alluring naked body and how flows down on her soft and smooth skin. It was all magical. The way how the beast between my legs awakened just by seeing her nudity. Makes my mind and heart lose their sanity. The sight of her nudity makes my rational thoughts disappear within just a blink. All I wanted is to make love to her and make her mine. I wanted to know how she will moan my name and how does

Then, I freeze. Someone is breathing in the room. And it isn't me. My heart hammer against my ribs. I lunge for the nearest heavy object on the nightstand, gripping it tight. My eyes lock on the bathroom door as it slowly creaks open. Three women step out. They are completely naked, their skin glowing under the flickering blue light of the room. One is a black girl with a thick, heavy ass that swayed with every step. Beside her is a caramel-skinned woman with massive, heavy breasts that bounced slightly. Then there is a slim white girl, her pale skin contrasting sharply against the grime of the motel.

I have no one to use as my muse. I shook my head. “No… not yet.” His eyes darkened. “You should.” The air felt thicker. The gallery noise faded. It was just us and the painting of two bodies fucking in shadow. Damien’s voice dropped even lower, almost intimate. “I could be your muse.” My breath caught. He continued, calm but intense. “Meet me at my office every night after closing. We’ll work on it together. I’ll pose for you. You’ll draw exactly what you need.”

A secret path through the frost-silver trees, cloaked by enchantment and shadow. The path led to a clearing long forgotten by the rest of the world. Twelve skulls—snow-white and wolf-boned—circled a silver tree with bark like light and leaves like night. This was where she found her. Mother Noira. The pack witch. The Shaman of the White Wolves. Her skin was the color of storm clouds, her eyes blind but glowing with thin threads of violet. Runes were carved into her flesh, old magic pulsing from her bones like breath.