Elliot Norris Nude Novels & Stories

Elias and I were dancing at some pack event, his hand on my waist, my smile strained but passable. The next was worse. Us on a couch, his arm around me, his head tilted to mine like lovers sharing a secret. Slide after slide flashed by, each more damning than the last, the crowd cooing at the carefully constructed illusion. Then the video started. The collective gasp was audible. There, in stark clarity, was Elias. Naked. On his knees. With another woman. The footage was grainy but unmistakable, his hands gripping her hips, his mouth on her throat, her moans loud enough to echo across the garden.

I feel Elliot’s hand gripping the hem of my shirt as he whispers, “I want to see your sexy body.” Lifting my arms to help him, Elliot removes my shirt and his eyes stare lustfully at my large boobs. Without warning Elliot leans forward sucking the soft skin of my cleavage making me gasp in excitement as he reaches around to unhook my bra, completely exposing my naked breasts to him. “God your boobs are so fucking sexy.” Elliot says taking my left breast in his hand rubbing gently and my right nipple in his mouth, making me moan. “Mmmm Elliot that feels so good.” I say breathing heavily. Running my hands through his hair I pull him closer to my chest.

She followed the sound to an open bedroom door and stopped dead in her tracks. Mr. Lorenzo was sitting on the edge of his bed, completely naked. His muscular body was tense with pleasure. One strong hand was wrapped around his thick, hard cock, stroking it slowly. His eyes were glued to his phone. On the screen, Elena recognized one of the videos she had posted on I*******m last month—her in a tight top, dancing playfully at a friend’s party, her breasts bouncing with every move. He was jerking off to her.

Nate replied like a man confident in his best friend status. Elliot’s lips curved involuntarily, “Well, there you go.” “Is she beautiful? Have you fallen for her? I can’t believe that Mrs. H let another woman move in on her turf. Hell, you don’t even bring girls home to fuck them, you get a hotel room.” Elliot felt his cheeks flush, “Just do it, fuck-head, I will see you tonight.” He hung up the phone just as Mandy started up the steps out of the pool. She was wearing a black bikini, and her belly was small and round. He felt an insane urge to touch it.

“You’re a sick bastard.” Elliot chuckled, already sliding the screen toward me. “Come on. Her old man’s a Bible Belt senator. Preaches about virtue while blowing oil money behind closed doors. He’ll crawl through glass to keep this off the record.” He tapped something. Another image. A different kind of frame. “Fuck it,” he said, voice soft with delight. “Sending this one too. Wanna see?” He didn’t wait. The screen tilted toward me. Amber—on her knees. Face-fucked. Drenched.

He had spent the past hour taking stock of how thoroughly Weldon was arrowing those images back at the bank, how the world media was exploiting Norah’s naked body for ratings. Even so, he had looked at everything but her photographs, deliberately sparing Norah one more pair of male eyes… Sparing himself a disturbing mix of rage and arousal. The thought that men around the world were jerking off over her naked pictures was making him madder than he wanted to be.

It’ll work. — No, not enough, find me a woman in the same cell, I want an enraged one. A desperate one. Someone who has nothing left. Promise her that I will pay her debts. That she can have fun. Unleash herself. That she can make her swallow every word, every breath. — Got it, you want a hungry hyena. I can do that. — And I want the photo. Send it to me as soon as it's done. — Received.