Eleanor Matsuura Nude Novels & Stories

I ask her and she shakes her head. “What are you thinking?” She asks me when I hear the door suddenly open so I quickly cover her up as I look at Maria who seemed puzzled. “What the hell?” I hear Eleanor question when she sees me as I swallow hard looking at her, my eyes trail down to her belly which is now visible. She is wearing a peach pencil skirt with a white button-down and a white jacket while holding her coat. , Did she do this to mum? I inwardly ask myself as I look at her.

She said, heaving out a sigh. I responded with a kiss, taking her lips roughly. Just the brave Eleanor I know. ELEANOR’S POV. I watched with keenness as he laid me on the very comfortable fluffy mattress. I was eager to know what his next move would be. He had carefully undressed me, taking off every bit of fabric layer I was wearing expect my pant. I was almost naked, and very aroused. He still had his clothes fully on, and maybe a part of me saw that as cheating. I wanted him to be naked too. I wanted to undress him myself too.

Curiosity got the better of him as his gaze dropped to the flash drive. Eleanor peeked back slightly, catching his hesitation, and smiled inwardly, fully aware of his intentions. ‘Things are really going my way these days,’ she thought, wild ideas rushing through her mind. “Let’s get the sex maniac first… then the aggressive one,” she mumbled under her breath as she disappeared into her room. ♦♦♦ Eleanor sat alone inside her room, wearing a short dress… revealing in ways she rarely allowed herself before. The fabric hugged her curves tightly, exposing her smooth legs and a teasing amount of cleavage. Her hair cascaded loosely over her shoulders, her posture relaxed but calculated.

Pinching nipples. “You’re an exhibitionist now, baby girl. Admit it.” She laughed breathy. “Maybe. A little.” Nico knelt. Lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. Tongue found her clit right away. Slow circles. Gentle sucks. Elena’s head fell back. “Nico…” Matteo held her up. One hand on her throat. Light pressure. “Tell us what you want.” She looked at him through the steam. “I want you inside me. All of you. Right here.”

Eleanor, who had been engrossed in folding laundry, immediately perks up at the mention of a woman. "Woman? Was... Patricia here?" she queries, her brow furrowing in concern as she turns to face Kayden, who stands by the window, his expression tense. He turns back at her intrusion, his gaze lingering on her figure, clad in a simple yet elegant yellow maxi dress, her wet hair tied inside a fresh towel. It's a sight he's not accustomed to seeing—Eleanor in such modest attire—but one that captivates him nonetheless. Words catch in his throat as he struggles to form a response, his eyes tracing her from top to bottom before meeting hers.

Seeing that the Maizes had encircled her, Eleanor couldn't help but smile mockingly. She didn't say anything but intentionally stared at Yara. Although she was covered with a towel, the bruises on her arms and neck remained exposed, as if she wanted to show them off. Getting stared at by Eleanor made Yara quite anxious, but she was confident in her acting skills. After ensuring she had not broken character, she acted aggrieved, helpless, and frightened—all to garner Eleanor's attention.

Then the shapes began to move, and everything changed. Ms. Elena Voss, the strictest and most respected female teacher in the entire school was completely naked, riding Mr. Ramirez hard on the bed. The same Ms. Voss who always walked the hallways with her head high, scolding students for the smallest mistakes, was now moaning loudly as she bounced on him. Her usual neat bun was messy, strands of hair sticking to her flushed face. Her professional blouse hung open, and her skirt was pushed up around her waist. She was grinding down on Mr. Ramirez’s cock with desperate, hungry movements, her breasts bouncing with every thrust.

She will not hesitate. He nods. He leaves. The door closes behind him. My phone buzzes again. A video. The institute. The main operating suite. The lights are bright, the room empty. The table gleams. The instruments are laid out. Then a figure walks into frame. A woman. Eleanor Whitmore. She is older than her photograph, her hair silver, her face lined, but her eyes are sharp, cold, hungry. She is wearing black. She turns to the camera. She smiles. A slow, deliberate smile.

A quiet feminine moan. My hand froze on the handle. I cracked the door open just enough to look inside and the sight hit me like a punch to the gut. Elena was still on the table, legs spread wide in the stirrups. The gown had fallen completely open, exposing her naked body. One hand cupped her full breast, pinching the nipple, while the other worked frantically between her thighs. Two fingers plunged in and out of her glistening pussy, making obscene wet noises. Her clit was swollen and red from attention. Her head was tilted back, lips parted, and those erotic moans spilled freely from her mouth.

Then the hiring manager stood up, locked the door, and looked at the other four men. “Clothes off. Now.” Eleanor didn’t wait for them to change their minds. She unzipped her skirt and let it fall. Stepped out of it instantly. She unbuttoned her shirt slow and steady. Like she was unraveling a Christmas present. Watching their faces while her heavy tits spilled. She reached for her bra, unhooked it, and dropped it on the table. Her nipples were already stiff, hard like a rock. She hooked her thumbs in her panties and pushed them down her legs.