Leslie Mann Nude Gif の小説・ストーリー

Leslie felt ideas swarming in her head at the speed of light, and she couldn’t help herself from grinning widely. "Julian," she called out. He looked up from the platter where he was peeling shrimp for her. "What is it?" he asked softly. "My blank canvas is so full that there’s no space for any more ideas," she replied with a grateful smile. Julian chuckled and swiped a small fish sauce stain from her lips, bringing it to his lips and licking it clean. "So, mission accomplished then?" Leslie flushed from his intimate action as she clamped her legs together. "Yeah, mission accomplished," she croaked in a breathy voice.

"Come and get in. Please?" He smiled, unbuttoning his shirt and taking his belt off. I backed away so I could have a better view of him as he did so. He was just in his black boxers as he got in. "We're playing a game." I took his hand and dragged him to where everyone else was. Leslie was floating around on her back, eyes closed with a smile on her face. I looked over at Kano who was watching her with a smile. "Everyone know how to play chicken fight?"

My gaze flicked to my phone again. And then, an idea struck. I smirked, a slow, wicked curve of my lips. If he wouldn’t talk to me, then I’d send him something he couldn’t ignore. Something that would make his blood boil. I scrolled through my camera roll, fingers steady as I pulled up the fresh video. Leslie and I. Tangled together, bare skin on bare skin. The sheets a mess around us. Her lips on my throat, my nails digging into her back, our bodies moving in perfect, breathless rhythm.

“Somebody making small batch ice cream in funky flavors.” Leslie joined us back at the property. She was a chunky lesbian who wore T-shirts with aggressive slogans, which contrasted with her beautifully manicured and polished set of fingernails, which she kept up with regular visits to a nail salon on Washington Avenue staffed by a bunch of Peruvian sisters and cousins. She was a combination of tough girl, Long Island Jewish princess, and funky artist. Her T-shirt that day featured a picture of Marie Antoinette and the slogan, Let them eat shit.

"Babe, your life is literally giving telenovela right now! Forbidden lust, accidental nudity, billionaire employer. All you need next is a dramatic slap scene." "That already happened yesterday." "Oh, shit," Chelsea laughs. "Right, I forgot." "It's not funny!" I protest. "It's hilarious!" she says between giggles. "But seriously-think about it. If you can't get him out of your head after seeing him naked, there's no way he's forgotten you either. He's a man, Auri. He saw a gorgeous, completely naked woman pleasuring herself-he's probably still replaying it on loop." I open my mouth to argue, but then pause. Her words actually... make sense.

Gina pulled me into a hug, whispering, "I'll always be here for you." Love had torn me apart. But friendship—it was putting me back together. I wiped away my tears, and we comforted each other in silence. Not long after, Lifu updated her social media again. In her photo, Eamon, shirtless with his sculpted body on full display, tilted his head back to drink water, his Adam's apple sharp and prominent. Lifu's hand rested right on his body. Daniel's shirt clung wetly to his body, collar gaping open, two conspicuous scratch marks trailing down in a way that left little to the imagination.