Stone Cold Steve Austin Nude Novels & Stories

“If only that was true. But you’re just treating me as a sex partner.” Austin stood up with a dominating aura. He was glistering with water dripping down his naked body. In a low deep voice he snarl, “You’re my mate.” Agatha stared at his nude appearance. She could clearly see every inch of him from the top of his hair to the bottom of his feet. His manhood was long and protruding. In his towering presence she was aching to have him. She was getting wet down there as she wanted him. But she couldn’t give in to this momentary pleasure.

Pressing both feet flat on the mattress, I stretch out my thighs, giving him a clear view straight to my core. Steven rips the tie out from the waistband of his sweatpants. The sweatpants fall flat down to the ground. He’s wearing black briefs underneath. They are stretching to the limit with that fucking huge cock he’s carrying. He shoves them down with abject hatred, until that constrained dick finally lurches free. “Touch yourself,” Steven says. “Show me what you do when you are alone.” Oh, this is guaranteed to be much better than that. When I’m alone, I just work quick to get off. Right now, I want to put on a show.

So I lean in and kiss her, again, passionately and feel her body begin to respond with desire. I shove my hand up her pussy, under her skirt, gripping it tightly. Ah, how wet she feels. She's enjoying the tender touch of my fingers. She rests a hand on my breast protected by the black leather. At that moment, as she lets her guard down, I pounce on Alexander. He, not expecting it, almost screams like a woman but lets me lead him. I take his clothes off rendering him completely naked.

he muttered, then trailed off. “You don’t need to, baby. I have this under control,” I replied. With that, I inhaled his huge member. His warm precum dotted my tonsils. I sucked till he was absolutely rigid—a style representative of someone starved for cock. I had been in the desert for years, and this was a big fucking steak and a gallon of water. I then looked him in the eyes with nearly half of his throbbing cock in my mouth and muttered, “So, whaddaya think, hun?” (I’m sure we all know it didn’t sound like that.) It must not have, but the muffled sound that did escape sent him over the edge. His toes curled tight against the soles of his feet, and I unsheathed his dick from my throat to

He smiled because he liked what he saw. He had never called for her services before, but had always watched her from the only table by the window as she performed her services to the men who paid for it. Smiling, she set the tray down. “Here's your whiskey, sir.” He didn't look at the glasses. He was looking at her chest, at the way the apron's thin cotton pulled across her breasts and at the bare curve of her hip where the fabric ended. She was naked under the apron, like the rest of the servers.

The wind howled like a living thing outside the remote mountain cabin, driving thick flakes of snow against the floor-to-ceiling windows. I stood in front of the massive stone fireplace, arms crossed tight over my chest, wearing nothing but an oversized cashmere sweater that barely reached mid-thigh and thick wool socks. The heat from the flames licked at my bare legs, but it did nothing to thaw the resentment burning in my stomach.

Funny, it's the best medicine for a hangover. Her round breasts are moving up and down with her heavy breath intake. Sandro is enjoying licking her sweet cream seeping out from her p*ssy, making Demie cries out of pleasure. As Demie is nearing her zenith, Sandro suddenly stopped. Breathlessly, she looked at Sandro and she saw his chin and near his lips covered with her juices. He suddenly stands up, so Demie sees that Sandro isn't wearing anything either. Her mouth agape at how hard he is.

KNOXX TAKES a look at the woman in front of him. He glanced over her body. She wore a fitted black t-shirt that emphasized her huge breasts and shorts that showed her long legs. He grinned and looked at the woman's breasts for a long time. Surely, his hands will perfectly fit around those mountains. He can imagine those long legs wrapping around his waist as he thrusts deeper inside her.

The silence that follows is heavier than any noise: it screams everything that words refuse. Alexandre lies on the tiled floor, his shirt open, a dark stain spreading under his neck. He does not move. His breath is weak, like a sheet barely lifted. Beside him, a tipped glass greens the light; a pool of liquid blends with something more terrible. Alexandre's face is pale, his features frozen in an expression that belongs only to those who have given so much that they seem to fade away.

I was totally exhausted and even though I was officially back in my body, I didn’t bother opening my eyes. I felt Steve pull his cock out of me, and a torrent of cum leaked out of my pussy, running down my leg. Steve stood up and I heard him take a deep breath and pick up his glass of whiskey and coke. “You want your drink, princess?” He asked. “You have it.” I said, I didn’t want to move. “OK. Brady?” “Thanks.” I heard their glasses clink over me and Steve sat back down on the couch. I turned over to lay on my back so I could drape my legs over him but kept my eyes closed.