Tasteful Nudes Novels & Stories

NATE I sip from my cup as I watch Tasha dance, rocking her body to the music. She twerks her ass like a frenzy goddess, rolling her hips in front of Jennie, who just claps and keeps on yelling over her voice at Tasha to keep going. The cut of Tasha's bikini bra is deep, extending to the base of the middle of her full breasts, which are now shining with sweat and bouncing hard as she dances more. My eyes trail down her body, spotting a black rose tattoo on the side of her left stomach. Her thick thighs are spotless, flexing with the power of her seductive dance moves. The black lace of her kimono is like a silent teasing temptation, scantily hiding nothing about her sexy body.

"What the fuck does that mean!?" "Mhmmm," He hummed in her ear, nodding towards the two naked men. "It isn't a big surprise they are good at it, is it?" Tara's eyes betrayed her and looked – they were both hung like bulls, their cocks thick and heavily veined with testicles hanging like stones beneath them. Roy tightened his grip as Tara began to struggle again. "Haha, I guess you like what you see then, hmmm?" "No! They're – they're disgusting!" But Tara stared at their members still. She caught her mouth slightly open, breathing hard. So did Roy.

Her shiny smooth satin like skin, the firmness of her white breasts with it's pink rosy crowns the down to her flat tummy to the pleasant sight of her clit. He gulped down gently to forced down the bile that aroused in his throat carefully. He had seen many women's nudes of course, he had taken few of them actually but staring at Iris Saint right there makes him shiver somewhat. Her shyness, her meekness and eager attitude to pleasure him pleased him so much but he didn't react to the lust that had build in him.

“It was too pretty not to wear, don’t you think?” “Yes,” Jules’ toed off his boots in compliance with Harry’s removal of his jeans and underwear, and Harry added them and Jule’s socks to the basket. “Very pretty.” “Sometimes just wearing a little bit, makes the nudity more so,” Harry placed a table next to Jules and stepped back to fill a washbowl from the bath. “How lovely,” they added pausing to admire the artwork they had made of their lover, cuffed, and collared in leather, naked, chained to the wall. The contrast of Jules’ silky skin and muscle against the rough stone and wood caused Harry to groan slightly with want.

Nuel landed on his back against the piece of cloths, his chest heaving, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into eager anticipation. She straddled his thighs briefly, her hands roaming over his hard muscles, then motioned sharply. 'Lay down flat and spread those legs wide for me, you needy fuck. I want full access to that big dick and your musty ass.' Nuel complied instantly, stretching out on the cave floor, some parts of his large body kissing the cool stone floor contrasting with the heat radiating from his skin. He parted his legs, knees bending to expose himself completely—his thick cock standing rigid, veins pulsing, balls heavy and drawn tight, and his ass cheeks part

She began with a sniffle, but he said nothing. Shoulders dropping further, Sara continued, “I know the past few days have been hell for both of us. I mean, you seeing these… I don’t even know what to call it now and…” “You keep saying you don’t know what to call them Sara, but I’ll help you madame. They are nudes miss, fucking nudes. Pictures of another man fucking you. Pictures of a man, fucking what I called mine. Look at your facial expression in those pictures Sara, you freaking enjoyed every single thing he did to you and I’ll say it over and over again. You were in ecstasy and you indulged in every aspect of pleasure he gave you. You…”

Hit send. And that was that. Until thirty seconds later, when my screen lit up again. Dr. Stacy Cole: Beth… I’m fairly certain that’s not the screenshot you meant to send me. My stomach dropped. “What?” I whispered, blinking at the screen. I opened the message chain. There—clear as day—was a high-resolution nude. My nude. Not raunchy. Not pornographic. Just… artistic lighting. Soft curves. A bedroom mirror moment I’d snapped weeks ago on a day I felt unusually hot.

The air in the gallery tasted of champagne, money, and barely concealed hunger. White walls glowed under pinpoint spotlights that carved every curve and shadow from Victor Kane’s photographs into something almost obscene. Critics circled like elegant vultures, murmuring approval at the technical mastery while their eyes betrayed the real reason they had come: to drink in the nakedness blown up to life-size, to pretend they were above it.

“I made this list while you were gone, just in case you came back. But since you’re really here, don’t ask questions. Just say thank you.” I don’t need it, but I smile anyway. Despite all her “I hate you,” she really did want me back. Maya hangs back near the door, smiling a little too wide, her fingers tracing the edge of the book in her grip. I didn't need to see the title to know exactly what she was devouring; the cover featured a pair of naked bodies locked in a desperate, explicit tangle of limbs. Watching her, I couldn't help but wonder how her grades would fare if she channeled the same hunger she had for that filth into her actual studies.