Squidward Thighs Novels & Stories

My legs are numb from the waist down, pins and needles crawling up my thighs whenever I try to shift. My hole—Jesus Christ, my hole—throbs with every heartbeat, swollen and raw and gaping open like it's forgotten how to close. I risk a glance down at myself. Mistake. Dried blood crusts the inside of my thighs. More of it smeared across my ass crack, dark and flaking. My hole is visible even in the dim light filtering through the curtains; red, puffy, obscene. He wrecked me. And I fucking loved it.

My waist landed on his big thighs . " really" I looked at his greyish orbs crooking my neck and a gentle smile spread on his lips. He started drawing circles in my bare thighs . My breath hitched . " yes really !" He uttered assuring me and kept on his gentle touches . " you know how much I love the idea " I giggled cheerfully very excited for my dream job . I have always loved to have a Cafe near the seashore . It looks like one of my fanatises coming to live .

Everyone was dumbfounded because Theodore was so powerful that Niven couldn't even handle his single strong blow. The sweat drops are running down from his hair to his long neck and from there down to his broad shoulder only to race over his hard-toned eight packs. His sharp muscular thighs made him look like a complete ring fighter. Every woman drooled over him meanwhile Theodore looked down at the Niven and mumbled " sorry man. Doesn't mean to be disrespectful toward you but I was running out of patience. "

Hungrier. I peeled the hoodie off first, Underneath was just a thin t-shirt clinging to his ribs. I tugged that up and over his head. Arms limp. The shirt hit the floor. Then the jeans button popped, zipper down, I eased them off his hips. No boxers. Just bare skin. Cock soft against his thigh, not big, but pretty. Pink tip, smooth shaft, nest of auburn curls. Ass round and perfect, the kind you want to grab and never let go.

Gripping my thighs Adrian pulls me towards him, his cock slipping from my hand. With a playful glint in his eyes, Adrian hovers above me, the tip of his cock teasingly brushing against my entrance. I squirm beneath him, aching for him to fill me completely. "Please, Adrian," I whimper, my voice betraying both impatience and longing. He chuckles lowly leaning forward, his breath hot against my ear. "Impatient, aren't we?" His voice is a sensual murmur, sending shivers down my spine. His hands glide over my thighs, spreading them wider, allowing him better access.

I Begged My Best Friend’s Dad Not to Stretch My Virgin Cunt on His Kitchen Counter My thighs are still sore from what Sarah’s mum did to me in that dressing room. Every time I shift, I feel the ghost of that thick dildo stretching me open, making me cum like a slut even as I begged her to stop. Now I’m standing in their kitchen, trying to act normal while Sarah showers upstairs. My big tits feel heavy under my thin tank top, nipples already hard just from being in this house.

The fat black dildo is in the middle of the two forbidden gifts. Curious to know what’s on the note, I clap my thighs to crawl out of bed when an oddly slick sensation makes me stop. It greases my knees, like melted butter on a hot pan. I pause, turn on my bedside lamp, and spread my legs wide to inspect my thighs under the dim light. Creamy white spots decorate my lower thighs. Thick like a lump of condensed milk… But I know it’s his.

You let go of your cock and made a motion like you were slapping your inner thighs, then returned to your cock. Sabrina gasped. "You'd spank my thighs? That would sting so bad, baby, but just thinking about it has got me dripping wet. Hold on." Sabrina trailed her hand from her pubic hair to her thigh, then rubbed the pale skin and gave it a little slap. "Ooh, I don't know if I can do it to myself," she said. "Your hand is just so much bigger than mine, and you can be more forceful. I bet you'd turn both of my thighs red."

“What’s wrong with looking for SpongeBob?” He’s fighting a smile. I can see it in the way his mouth twitches. “Nothing, if that’s your thing. I’m sure I could find you a SpongeBob centre. T-shirts. Balloons. A life-sized mascot, too. Just say the words and it’s all yours.” “No thanks,” I say, pulling down the sun visor and flipping open the mirror. I check my reflection and, thankfully, my anxiety didn’t melt my mascara. “I’m more of a Squidward girl.”

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.