Lyna Perez Desnuda Novels & Stories

Palm fronds clattered softly in the night breeze. Layla Reyes had come alone. Thirty-four, recently single after a long, quiet unraveling of a relationship that had stopped feeling like home years before she left it. She was tall, sun-kissed, with shoulder-length black hair that curled at the ends from the salt air, dark eyes that caught light, and a body that moved with the easy confidence of someone who had learned to take up space without apology. She wore a simple black bikini during the day and, tonight, a thin white linen dress that tied at the neck and fell loose to mid-thigh—nothing underneath, because the heat made anything more feel like punishment.

Flora was really shy about undressing, but hearing her sister’s past, I was patient. I sat in the chair next to the tub, heating the water up, as she walked over. “I’m ready…” I looked up at her. She was covering her chest and vigina. Her shoulders were scrawny. You could see each bone clearly. Her collarbone looked like it was sucking in her skin. Her rib bones showed on her ribcage. Her hips were so visible, it looked like she did not have any fat. She had a small belly… Barely there. I was not disgusted at her, but at the way she came to look this way.

Sarah and Rena Gasped. “Excuse me Luna but could you remove your bottoms as well. It seems It extends lower than your waist.” I took off my pants. Fully nude in front of them felt somewhat uncomfortable knowing my scars were in full view. She took a picture for me and told me that I could dress. She handed me my phone and I was shocked.

It must be the vodka. Has to be the damn thing really kicking in now. Because my eyes won't stop roaming eover very mouthwatering piece of this man's body. And that's when it hits me. This man is almost nude— save the tattoo perfectly sitting on his chest, flexing his abs and pectorals. Other than that, it's just a tiny towel wrapped around his waist, looking like it might snap loose at the slightest movement. Holy hell, I'm so freaking done for! Is this Lyra girl not just a stripper but a whore?

Lena's POV. I needed a slap, a hard slap that would catch me off guard. A pinch, a bruise, anything to wake me from the dream I thought I was trapped in. “Are you kidding?” I muttered. “Look around you, does this place look like I'd be lying when I got important things to do. I looked around the corner and clutched my hands together. She was right and I was confused even further. “Can I get a minute alone?” I said.

“Take off your panties and get rid of the covers, Lara. If you want this, you can’t keep hiding from me.” With trembling fingers, I pull my underwear down, the cotton fabric sliding over my knees and down to my feet. I kick it away, feeling bare and exposed under his intense gaze. The duvet is next, and as I push it away, a cool rush of air meets my heated skin. I feel so vulnerable lying there, entirely naked, in front of his eyes. What if he thinks my breasts are too small? I’m not as voluptuous as tiny little Lydia or soft as sexy Sally. I have abs and muscles, but I lack curves.

“Mia, can you go upstairs and call your sister Lynn? Dinner is almost ready.” My heart skipped. I wiped my hands on my shorts and went upstairs. Her door was slightly open. I was about to knock when I heard soft moans coming from inside. I froze. The moans were low and breathy. Curious and a little worried, I pushed the door open just a little more and peeked in. Lynn was on her bed, completely naked. Her legs were spread wide. One hand was between her thighs, fingers moving in and out of her pussy. The other hand was pinching her nipple. On her laptop screen, two women were having passionate lesbian sex, one licking the other.

There I was, stark naked and lying over Zach with a look on my face that could easily be mistaken for pleasure. I felt sick instantly. All the blood drained from my head and my stomach churned as the implication of what I had really walked into made its way into my mind and took a seat. This time when the tears came, I couldn’t stop them from falling. “You’re sick.” My voice was no louder than a broken whisper. “That, I am. Now make your choice, Lina. Because if I cant have you, no one else will.” Then he turned his camera toward me and clicked another photo, this time of me in his shirt and nothing else – the signature after sex outfit for most of America’s women.

“Shut up.” Clothes came off in pieces. Maya’s top ripped. Bra unhooked and tossed. Lira’s dress hit the floor and she stood there naked, perfect, almost too perfect. Smooth skin, nipples dark and tight, a thin trail of hair leading down to a bare, glistening cunt. Between her legs something else flickered for a second—shadow, scales, gone before Maya could focus.

She pleads, her body trembling as she swipes her own dress. Landry hears the tearing of the fabric and soon her dress is falling to the ground. Everyone is silent and watching her in horror as she falls to the ground, completely naked. Her large breasts are exposed first. Then she rips at her yellow underpants until her vagina is completely exposed too. Her body continues to tremble and grow pink with heat. “I need release!!” She pants. Landry knew this look all too well; it happens to Bernice more times than he can count. However, it’s never happened this publicly before. Tina has gone into severe heat.