Novelas y relatos de John Saxon Nude

I tried to remember yesterday memories but I can’t remember a solid thing. I sat up carefully, making sure not to wake him. My body was sore in places, my hair dissolved, my face soft, but a little wrinkled. I yanked the duvet up to double-check. My dress was still fitted my body. Okay. Nothing happened. Right? I cautiously lifted the other side of the duvet, and froze. Jaxon was naked. Stark naked!

Against his better judgment, Ryan moved closer and peered through the crack. The sight that greeted him nearly stopped his heart. Sloane stood under the spray, completely naked, her body glistening with soap. She was perfect with full, perky breasts, tiny waist, round ass, and smooth, hairless pussy. Ryan’s hand slipped into his pants, wrapping around his rapidly hardening cock as he watched her. Dirty thoughts flooded his mind: sucking on those big tits, spanking her ass, burying his thick 7-inch cock deep inside her tight little slit. He was stroking himself furiously, right on the edge, when the water suddenly shut off.

If word got out, everything would blow up. Jax kissed my neck from behind. "Relax, baby. We got you." He turned me around and kissed me deep, his tongue claiming my mouth while his hands pulled my dress up. Marcus watched, eyes hungry. Jax lifted the dress over my head and left me completely naked in front of them. "Look at that perfect body," Marcus groaned. "Those tits. That wet little pussy." Jax pushed me gently toward the couch. "On your knees first. Show Marcus how good you suck cock."

Sage left to get Aarshon to help Nix shower. “You can try on the dress after you shower and eat,” Sage told her when she closed the bedroom door. Aarshon pulled his T-shirt off as he crossed toward her. Nix could feel her body stirring to be close to him. Nix lay on the bed nude from shifting. Aarshon stopped at the end of the bed to strip his pants off. He stood there nude, looking more and more like a Greek god. The chiseled chest went into a slim V-like waist. Muscles seemed to dance and stretch when he moved toward her.

Color rises to my cheeks as heat blooms under my skin. I punch his arm lightly. “You’re so silly—oh my God.” I slide off him with a huff, knowing I can’t bear to look at him after what he just said. It’s the only way I can hide how turned on I am too, and that’s when I spot Jaxon. He’s across the room, lounging on the couch looking like a priceless art exhibit. He is shirtless, with grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low down his waist. His hair falls in messy strands all over his face, and he has his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose as he stares into the book in his right hand.

The bathroom door swung open, and steam billowed out like a cloud, obscuring everything for a heartbeat. Then Jaxx stepped out. He wasn't wearing a robe. He wasn't wearing a towel. He was completely, utterly, undeniably naked. The bedroom lamps cast golden light across every sharp angle of his body… the broad expanse of his shoulders, the wet, dark hair clinging to his neck, the way water droplets still trailed down the defined ridges of his abs. He was a masterpiece of muscle and tan skin, and he stood there as casually as if he were fully clothed. Completely unbothered. Completely at ease in his own skin.

And Kyle, 29, the quiet one with a gym-rat body and the biggest dick of them all — easily ten inches and beer-can thick. They circled me like predators. “Strip,” Jax ordered. I peeled off my tank top and shorts, my hands trembling as I did. Not because I was scared and was unsure about this. No. Because I was fucking excited this was real. Next, I was standing completely naked in front of them, my seven-inch cock rock hard and pointing straight up. They whistled appreciatively. “Pretty little birthday boy,” Clinton growled, palming my ass roughly. “This hole is about to get destroyed. Are you ready?”

Jason Jason stood in the communal shower, water cascading over his tan, muscular frame. His body was a vision of strength and athleticism, tall and broad-shouldered, with every muscle clearly defined from hours in the gym. His short, dark hair clung to his head, droplets trailing down his neck and across his toned chest, highlighting the veins along his arms. The light glistened off his smooth, wet skin, making his already imposing physique even more striking.

Veronica could not help but comment on his paranoid sickness. "How could it be impossible?" "Alright, I'll figure another method to examine myself," she said. The man was getting annoyed with Veronica. "Additional inspections?" Jaxon fixed his red gaze on her for a long time. Then, suddenly, he grinned, and a hint of mockery could be seen on his thin lips. "Veronica, do you prefer to be stripped nude and seen by men?" Veronica was sitting against the bed when she heard the words, and her face immediately turned white.

But as I scrolled further, the praise shifted. My name was replaced by his. Jaxon Thorne. The school's digital bulletin had his face plastered across the header, followed by a gallery of photos from the post-game press conference. One shot, in particular, made my thumb freeze on the screen. He was shirtless in the locker room, his skin glowing with a light glow of sweat that made the ink on his arms pop. Every muscle in his abdomen was illustrated, a deadly landscape of shadow and strength. The memory of the locker scene—the way he had pinned me, the way he had forced that shameful sound from my throat—flashed behind my eyes like a strobe light.