Squidward Thighs Novels & Stories

Jolene looked at the outfit that he put on the bed for her and thought that he had finally lost his mind. The wide neck sweatshirt made her think of II Love Lucy with an emo flair. A white spiderweb heart with I Love Spooky written in the Lucy font on the black material. The shirt, she could get behind. But the knit thigh-highs? She liked the spiderweb design and the occasional spider. The thigh highs would probably not go above her knees. She might not be as big as her mother, but they both had the thunder thighs from hell. Neo didn’t seem to have a problem with her large thighs. But obviously, he did not realize how big they really were.

Worse, I remembered the way I had screamed it, too. I walked into the kitchen, my feet dragging on the cold floor. Zeth was already there. He was standing by the stove, flipping eggs in a pan. He wasn't wearing a shirt. His back was toward me, showing off rows of hard, lean muscle that flexed every time he moved his arm. His skin was bronze and looked warm. I stopped in my tracks. I couldn't help it. I just stared at the way his shoulders moved, the V-shape of his back leading down to the waistband of his grey sweatpants.

"Still the same old Thud, a crowing dumb head." General Thud scoffed. "Still the same Connor, stupid sidekick of his brother."

He said, rubbing his thighs one against the other. I pryed his thighs open once again, licking the slick. Mewls leaked from his full and pouty lips as I marked up his thighs. I parted his cheeks, his beautiful bronze hole leaking slick. I swallowed hard, pressing my tongue flat against his entrance before slowly licking long strides.

My prostate was crushed flat against the invading limb. Fluid leaked in steady pulses—clear, thick, running down my thighs in rivulets. He made me move. Slow at first—pulling the arm out to the wrist, then shoving it back in to the shoulder. Each thrust made my whole torso jolt. My cock slapped against my stomach, untouched, spurting pre-cum in weak arcs. Then faster. The wet, sucking sound was deafening. My hole gaped wider with every withdrawal—pink, swollen, refusing to close.

Jackson said as he looked back at Thaddeus and laughed. He takes a closer look at Thaddeus, the way he's laying on the ground and his face scrunches up in disgust as he looks at Thaddeus. He looks at the awkward way. Thaddeus's legs are laying out beside him on the ground, and unable to move them. His legs had no muscle whatsoever, he thought they looked absolutely disgusting! "How gross!" Jackson says, his nose scrunching up. "How can you even fuck that?" Jackson says, pointing at Thaddeus as he looks back at Aiden.

My sundress bunched around my thighs, letting my legs kick up water at intervals. Marcus floated deeper in, chest-deep, arms stretched along the wall behind him. Water beaded on his shoulders, dropping down his neck. His white boxers clung tight. Wet cotton turned almost see-through, outlining every curve and ridge beneath. The fabric molded to him so completely I could see the thick shape of him resting heavily against his thigh. He didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he wanted me to notice. I had always dragged my eyes away each time it hooked below his belly.

He gripped a sack in one clawed hand, but my eyes immediately dropped lower, to what hung between his thighs. His cock. Oh god, his cock. It was a monster, thick as my wrist even in its semi-soft state, veined and ridged like it was carved from some ancient, twisted wood. The length dangled halfway down his furry thighs, the head flared and slightly pointed, with a heavy knot swelling at the base that promised to lock inside whoever was unlucky—or lucky—enough to take it.

His hard length pokes through his gray tailored pants, betraying his relaxed posture. My thighs shake as I imagine what it would feel like to have that thickness between my ass cheeks again. The sound that rips from my throat is so filthy, my cheeks flame almost immediately. That doesn't stop my hips from rolling slowly, sexier, to meet the thrust of my fingers. The slick, squelching sounds fill the air as my juices run down my fingers.

As he does that , his strong hands move along my legs , until they lay on my thighs. "The only time you squeeze your tights , is when they are wrapped around my head" he whispers seductively in my ears , causing my sex drip more with my juices. After saying this , his hands squeeze hold of my thighs and separate them. I gasp at this erotic move , that exposes my wetness to him. Due to his earlier childish actions , my flimsy shorts are drenched - thankfully , because if they weren't I am sure he would of seen how wet I am.