Gillian Barnes Nude Novels & Stories

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

The taste of despair disguised as calm. The one we’re taught to swallow with elegance. But not this time. Not me. I am not a woman to be replaced. I am Cassandra. I rise, naked beneath the silk dress. And in the mirror, I meet another woman. A wounded woman, yes, but sharp, ready. I think back to his absences. To those nights when he stopped responding. To that foreign perfume on his collar. To that vacant look that told me everything without saying it. And I understand.

Linda stood naked beneath the soft, gold-silk glow of the fitting room lights. No barriers now. No seams or cotton to shield her. Her panties lay crumpled on the velvet bench beside her, still warm from the heat of her thighs. Her body was bare in the truest sense not just unclothed, but revealed. Her belly hung softly, full and natural, the skin loose from years of life. It curved gently over the mound of her pussy, which was exposed entirely -- thick lips plush and bare, a shadow of dark hair above, parted slightly from the way her thighs had pressed during the slow undressing. Her labia were flushed, visibly swollen now from blood and slow-building heat, soft folds glistening faintly in t

She was stark and nude, with some naked guy behind her with his hand covering her breasts and his lips on her lips. Her face was partially covered with her hair, but I knew Gwen very well; I knew every inch of her body. I flipped through the pages of the magazines and found about five more of them: in a hot tub, showering, on the bed, making out on the kitchen counter, and in a pool. Everything about them screamed erotica. The last thing I wanted was a picture of them having sex. I sighed internally when I saw nothing close to a picture of that sort. "Dyl, calm down. Maybe it's not what it looks like," Ezra said, squeezing my shoulder gently.

"I don’t see any food in your hands, Giselle. Coffee’s a start, but..." Emboldened, she placed the mug down and reached for the hem of her cloth. In one fluid motion, she stripped it off, tossing it aside. Her bra followed, breasts spilling free, nipples hardening in the cool air. Pants next, salaciously shimmying them down her hips, revealing lace panties that clung to her curves. She stood there, nearly naked, vulnerable and defiant. Richard spun around, eyes widening. "What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"

“And find something useful to do with yourself.” Hanna slowly stood up, her eyes gleaming with a different kind of fire now. She began pulling off her clothes right there in the middle of my study, the fabric sliding down her body until she stood completely naked. Her breasts were full and perky, nipples already hardening in the cool air, her waist slim, hips curving invitingly, and between her thighs, her shaved pussy on full display. She had a nice body—tight, toned from hours at the gym and expensive treatments. Any other man would have been rock hard instantly.

Galith signaled his men. Regardless of her struggle and please, they held her arms and legs, spreading them wide. "Please, leave me. I will give you more money than them but don't touch me." Celestine was petrified of what was on her way. She had escaped from one hell because of Damien but this time, she was unsure if he would be able to make it or she might lose her dignity. Celestine was brought out of her thoughts, when a gust of cold wind hit her warm body. Her eyes fell on her chest and tears dripped down from her big crystal eyes. Galith had torn up her shirt, revealing a white lacy bra.

Then he saw her. Lila Moreau, 28, a local Creole artist whose paintings dripped with raw fucking, stood on a wrought-iron balcony. Caramel skin shining with sweat, wild dark curls plastered to her neck, full heavy tits barely contained by a tiny purple-and-gold dress already riding up her ass. Her hazel eyes locked on Nashoba through the crowd and her pussy clenched instantly, flooding her thighs. The hunger was immediate. Animal. Filthy. No words. Just primal need.

Millie stopped in front of it, staring at the rippling surface, trying to steady her breathing. Behind her, Nina lingered silently until she was approached by someone. Millie turned her head to look. It was the same woman she’d noticed earlier during dinner—the older one in the sheer, elegant gown that clung to her curves like liquid silk. Beside her stood the young man, now completely naked. His lean, toned body gleamed under the lantern light, and Millie’s gaze unwillingly dropped to his exposed cock. He smirked, seemingly unfazed by her obvious discomfort. Her cheeks burned as she quickly looked away, her attention snapping back to the fountain.

I groaned when I glanced into the mirror to see them in back. Betty had removed her trench coat and was completed naked in the back seat. Lilly had removed her blouse and Betty was greedily sucking on one of Betty’s huge tits while her hand was vigorously banging in and out of Betty’s gash. My dick was hard as stone as I noticed the expression of pure lust on Lilly’s face while Betty rammed her fingers into her over and over.