Nami Nude Figure Novels & Stories

"I'm going to need some recuperation time. Tell me how you met." "Sam purchased a suits optional cruise at the Go Nude for the Homeless Auction held here in LA on National Nude Day; the one I was nude at, modeling Brianna's jewelry. You saw the pictures. The boat is owned by an acquaintance of ours, a movie producer, who rents it out when he isn't wining and dining movie stars on it." "God, yes; the pictures. Unlikely to ever forget them."

“Come on. I’ll show you.” They walked around the large room slowly, and Adam looked at the almost life-sized black-and-white photos. The men in them were athletes, strong and muscled, and Katie had made them look like Greek gods. When they got to the one of Nick, Adam stopped, stunned. His friend looked like he was literally flying through the air, his leg extended, the curve of every muscle visible. “My God, Katie. This is incredible. I think it’s my favorite.” Her eyes were warm. “But you haven’t seen yours yet.”

A girl walks along the hallway half-dressed, being escorted by a man in black as they appear every so often in the windows. But Niko's appearance, who walks outside in nothing but a pair of lowly hung lounge pants, his body bronzed like any Italian god, that intrigues me. His chest chiseled to perfection, a deep v running down into those pants. My eyes rise back up to his face; his usually sleeked-back hair now acts as a curtain to either side of his face. A cigarette hangs from his lips as his bellows smoke into the air above him.

That's my Benny, always the optimist. I sipped my champagne and continued to study the really huge image hanging on the gallery wall. My portrait had been enlarged and printed on canvas for this show. The effect was a bit startling but even so, it was apparent that Benny had talent. For a child of Somali refugees who started with less than nothing in the UK, he knew how to configure a picture. He'd posed me on my back with my head turned to the side, my arm over my breasts and my fingers flared between my legs. He'd wanted my hair splayed out, my legs straight up, and my pussy covered. I'd worn a string thong for the shot, but you couldn't see it. Nothing showed that would classify my image

Adam settled into a lounge chair by the shimmering pool, the water a crystal blue under the afternoon sun. Nova disappeared briefly, emerging moments later in a lavender bikini that hugged her curves like a second skin. The top barely contained her full breasts, the thin fabric straining against her hardened nipples from the cool air. The matching bottoms rode high on her hips, accentuating the swell of her ass and the dip of her waist.

The next thing Calley heard was Nelly exclaiming: “Hey—oh my god! Why is there a nude painting of you up there?!” She laughed at Nelly’s reaction. Somehow, she’d expected this. “Do you like it?” Nelly instinctively stepped back and rubbed her arms as goosebumps ran down her skin. “Dear Lord, my hair’s standing! Caty, who the heck did you strip for to paint that?!” Nelly then turned to her with wide, almost tearful eyes. “Why would you pose naked for a painter? Does Ser Phill know about this? Why would you do this, Caty? He’d be devastated if he found out—”

He nods his head. Most of them are drawings of places, people and carriages, and horses. He’s very good. I’m fascinated. One sketchpad has various sketches of nude figures. He runs his fingers through his hair. “Those were mostly humans. I didn’t…sleep with any of them..you know..” he stammers. I just shrug and keep leafing through them. I’ve done sketches of nudes of both men and women. We have an open studio with live nude models every Thursday evenings at the store.

After surveying my nude butt–cheeks from behind, she exposed herself, and placed other two familiar apparatus on the desk–a long magnificent, black ebony phallus and a brown rubber riding crop. Their girth was beyond imagination, and their lengths surpassed the ones she had brought for her practical lesson with more than ten centimetres. Admiring their usage, I swallowed my dry throat, and raised my chin to confront her. Though her age landed past fifties, she was the kind of these none–ageing, gorgeous women, her long, silk ribboned–hair resembling of a young teenager. Meanwhile, after scrutinizing my front, especially my small, red–pointed n*ppl*s, she cleared her throat, and inquired, cur

Or the floor, or the ground, or up against a wall. I gave a tiny shudder and gave myself a concussion-inducing mental slap. I had to stop thinking about him in such an erotic way. He wasn’t my type and I was certainly not his. I’d seen him in the gossip pages, and at awards events, with blonde bombshells who looked so perfectly put together, they could have been supermodels. Some of them are supermodels. Interestingly, Niamh is a blonde bombshell with her white-blonde hair and stunning figure. I haven’t cracked any mirrors lately but I can safely say I do not look anything like a supermodel. Not even close. I fall into the category of a mousy girl next door. Or maybe a girl down the road, so

Utterly devoid of any article of clothes, Camelia, the Supreme Daughter of Castitas, was awkwardly placed on the chair with her hands shackled behind her back, her legs spread, and her hips pushed forward in an exhibitionistic display that teased the height of shame. The creator of such a brazen display, Sol, the shameless prince, narrowed his eyes lovingly as he viewed her in all her naked and depraved glory. Despite her growing age, her pussy was tightly shut and devoid of any pubic hair. The glistening trail of clear liquid slowly trailing down from her closed snatch was truly an enticing and erotic sight.