Nikki Sandiego Nude Novels & Stories

I wear a demure floor-length flower dress with cap sleeves a sweetheart neckline and long silt exposing one oiled thigh, sitting on the blanket spread out on the floor. Niko sits behind me in a simple white shirt and black pants, the shirt is only burned up halfway revealing his chest, his position relaxed, his feet bare. He did glare at the make-up artist when she came close to him with her bottle of coconut oil indicating at his chest making the poor girl quake in her heels. “Looking into each other’s eyes, Yes! Like so,” the cameraman directs the camera clicking. “Niko places a hand on Lola’s belly, per-fect” is followed by more flashes and clicking.

Just the sound of his voice was enough to bring me to the edge. “Oh, fuck, I’m going to…” I panted, slamming my hips against his hand. He retracked his probing fingers. “Tsk. Tsk. Not yet.” Nico chuckled. “Sanda, come here.” Sanda pointed at herself, her eyes growing wide. “I’m not asking.” Nico said, his voice low. “Come.”