Thigh Pics Novels & Stories

It was so humiliating, and it made me so wet I felt it dripping down my thighs. I looked up at him, my mouth watering. He was beautiful and his length was terrifying. It was pulsing right in front of my face. I reached out with shaking hands and gripped his hard, muscular thighs. I leaned in and swirled my tongue all around the head, licking up that salty drop of heat. “Mmmphh” A small moan escaped my throat.

I looked on in rapt attention as she skimmed through the photos and offered small details of the outfits. Her last two photos shocked me the most. The first one had her kneeling on my bed, wearing a black lace thong and my black leather jacket. She had the leather jacket unzipped, but was holding it slightly closed to let her tits peak out. She was clearly not wearing a bra. She posed in various other positions on my bed dressed like this, including laying on her back and teasing her pussy through her thong with a finger as her eyes were closed in the throws of ecstasy, on her hands and knees with her ass pointed at the camera, and a close up of her face with her mouth open invitingly.

His thighs? Shit. His god damn thighs. They’re not legs. They’re weapons. They bulge out from the knee, muscle on muscle, each group defined in a way that seems physically impossible. They connect to a firm, perfect, biteable ass that I shouldn’t be staring at. But I am. He could kill someone with those thighs. He’s definitely killed someone with those thighs. The movement repeats. Up, down, thud. Up, down, thud. The bar hitting the floor reverberates through the room. His muscles pop from the strain, skin gleaming with a sheen of sweat that make his intricate tattoos look like art in motion.

She giggled and pulled him in for a hug not without casting me a dirty look and flicks her gaze to him. The bitch wore a black thong and small boob clothing to cover her nipples because she was bug busted with a huge ass and tiny legs with her full lips and high cheek bones filled with heavy make up. There was no way in hell she wasn't botched and didn't have a plastic surgeon attending to her body every visit.

If just glancing at my husband’s lower half made me breathless, I wonder what would happen when I press his thighs, those points highlighted in the illustrations. I chewed on my lower lip and started massaging his outer thigh. I would intermittently glance between the illustration and Alpha Silas’ thigh. The points highlighted in the illustration were of his inner thigh, which made me nervous. What if my hand touched his manhood? Moreover, was I left with any other option?

His legs were already exposed, by jeans cut off at the top of his thighs. Clare Markham had never seen a body like it, which is why it fascinated her. His chest was broad, his abdomen flat and delineated by hard, stringy muscles, his biceps bulging as he worked. He was tall with long legs which were contoured by thick, well-defined muscles, his whole body like some relief map of musculature. His buttocks were small and tight and hard, like two cantaloupes wrapped in denim.

Confident. Talia kept playing with her breasts, her thighs parting wider, her glistening center on full display. Theo watched her put on a show, her body screaming for attention. Sean’s pants stretched from the force of his arousal. Without a word, he pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside. His body was lean and powerful. Broad shoulders, cut abs, a slim waist. He undid his pants and let them drop. Talia gasped. The photo Theo had seen didn’t prepare him for the real thing. Sean’s cock stood tall and thick, hanging heavy between strong thighs. It was massive—black, veined, intimidating. His balls matched the size, full and prominent. The whole thing throbbed with promise.

she cried out in pain. “Lie on the bed Sophie. Stay on the edge.” I instructed her. She rushed to do as I say, shy yet turned on so much for me. “Open your legs for me.” Sophie looked at me from beneath her lashes and then, slowly spread her legs, showing me her pussy. Her golden curls there, the white flesh of her thighs, the pink bud. “Fuck, you're soaked for me,” I said, not able to take my eyes of her. A pink blush crept up her skin at my words.

Holy shit. The woman in the photo is lying on a bed, her legs in the air and crossed at the ankles. She has on fishnet stockings that lead up her legs to her thick thighs. She's wearing high-waisted black underwear that shows off her wide hips, giving her an old-school pinup feel, and a sexy bra that barely contains her full breasts, the material just covering the essentials. Every part of her is thick and luscious. All the blood in my body flows to my dick.