Ella-rae Smith Nude Novels & Stories

“Mind company? Sauna's calling.” The boys stared at each other before they nodded and led the way. The locker room was steamy already, empty save for the echo of lockers slamming. They stripped down—Eli peeling off his tank, revealing a smooth, lean torso dusted with hair trailing south; Noah's broader chest with hard nipples from the chill. Rafe shed his shirt last, tattoos sprawling across his back like a map of battles won, pecs heavy, a dark line of hair arrowing down to his waistband.

Zelena. The sky was a clear crystal blue and the bright sunlight twinkled on the top of the water. Coming to the beach was a fantastic idea. I wanted time to just relax and hang out with my friends, even if Cole was still a no show. The soft white sand felt great under my feet. I curled my toes and dug them under the sand. Smith and Nat dropped the esky and picnic basket and laid out some towels. I sat down on the edge of a towel and buried my feet into the sand. Smith stripped down to his swim shorts and Nat slid her dress down her body and let it drop at her feet. She was wearing a skimpy black string bikini that sat high up on her hips and barely covered her breasts. But hot damn does she

Some of them had been huge blockbuster action movies. Within the search results were more YouTube links. A couple of them stuck out to him. They proclaimed, "Shasta Pyke nude scenes." Blake breathed out forcefully and leaned back in his chair. Did he really want to go there? Cautiously, he clicked the first link. There was a close-up of Shasta from the waist up, her perfect round breasts filling the screen. Her scene partners, two men, were completely dressed. The on-screen conversation lasted a good five minutes and the editing kept coming back to her tits from every angle and distance.

Personal time or free time wasn't a thing under Hank's roof. Smith and Nat dropped the esky and picnic basket and laid out some towels. I sat down on the edge of a towel and buried my feet into the sand. Smith stripped down to his swim shorts and Nat slid her dress down her body and let it drop at her feet. She was wearing a skimpy black string bikini that sat high up on her hips and barely covered her breasts. But hot damn does she have a banging body. Watching her I felt a little self-conscious. She is gorgeous, like a swimsuit model. Her body has never been covered in scars and bruises. Even if mine no longer is either, I can still see them in my mind sometimes. Gunner stood at my side an

Jake explained. "I don't care. I don't want another female to see you naked." Rae huffed. "Baby it’s not like that." Jake denied. "Really? Ok fine. I'm going to walk around the house nude in front of the guys. And that shouldn't bother you right? Since you're all used to it? Having the guys see my nude body means nothing right?" Rae demanded. "Yes please." Kile replied. ——Punch——

The car pulled to a smooth stop in front of the Grand Élan Mall—its sleek glass exterior reflecting the buzz of Valemont’s elite, who streamed in and out like it was their private playground. Elara stepped out first, her denim shorts brushing mid-thigh, her top hugging her figure modestly. The nude sandals with the tiny pearls clicked lightly on the polished floor. She looked casual but expensive, the kind of look that said she could afford to not care. Behind her, Damien emerged, jaw clenched, his mood sour.

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 could feel her juices mixing with the water droplets running down her inner thighs. She pushed the glass door open slowly. She stepped out onto the bath mat, completely naked, water dripping from her long hair onto her shoulders, breasts, and down her flat stomach. Her pussy was fully exposed, smooth and glistening. Ryan’s eyes raked over her. He took in her small perky breasts with their hard pink nipples, the curve of her waist, the athletic tone in her legs, and the slick pink folds between them. “Fuck, Ella, you’re perfect.” he breathed.

Havermouth, Eight Years Before Rhett sat on the lip of the hot tub wearing only his boxer shorts, his stomach muscles visible as he laughed, and his hair sticking to his face from the steam, the heat flushing his cheeks. His skin was so white that Cameron wondered if Rhett had ever taken off his top outdoors, but the paleness of his skin didn’t seem to worry the girl who knelt on the seat laughing up at him flirtatiously, her bra and panties made transparent from the water.

Notifications stacked up like a goddamn storm warning. Some group chat. Kayla’s friends. [New Video: “LMAO our girl’s slaying”] [Kayla’s going global] I should’ve deleted it. Instead, I tapped. The screen lit up and my world broke. Kayla. Half-naked. Lying on a sunbed near some kind of pool cabana. Bikini top flung off to the side. Legs spread wide. One man between them, thrusting deep and hard. She was moaning like a pornstar. Loud, unfiltered and completely consumed.