Live Nude Girls

...and live clothed girls. Six sexy stories about the type of sultry girls found parading on the covers of my ABC books. (Now, before anyone gets their knickers in a knot, you can guess that I'll be back shortly with a fair play theme for next week's contest!) The poll will run until Wednesday at midnight.

*****

Entry #1: Auction

Babs sold herself for three dollars at the Yale date auction. Everyone hissed as she pulled layers of blond hair behind her ears. Too low a bid for such a catch. She bounded off the stage, a swish of plaid pleats.

Her curious smile sparkled from a mauve mouth that offered her new date a kiss on the cheek. The fingers of her right hand played along his cock through his dinner slacks.

The slicked back, suit man covered a laugh with his paw-like hand. A bear of a man.

She would wrestle with him later in the backseat of the cab. Skirt up, driving hard hips, slick cunt, onto his dick. He would bellow out fifties era swear words as he used her like the working girl she had sold herself as, packaging and all.

Babs was everyone's little princess. Dirk, her boyfriend claimed her virginity two months ago on a boat in the lake. He was going to take her out on the town for the auction when he won. Instead, she was moaning around her chemistry professor's cock as the potholes pushed it ever further down the back of her throat.

She tasted pre-cum like his detergent. He smelled unfamiliar, sweet like her pussies perfume. Aged like bound leather and tobacco. She had one goal. Share her self worth and give herself to someone less worthy. That was the point of this whole thing right?*

*****

Entry #2: For Herself

She wears them for herself and not for anyone else, he gets that. But she comes out from behind her antique dressing screen in a soft-looking night gown and pads over to sit on the bed in front of him, and she swings her left foot up, effortlessly, to rest her ankle on his shoulder.

"Can you take my stockings off, please?" And she may say it like a question, but he knows better. So he does, and he is slow and easy. He indulges, but only a little, runs his hand down the black silk just a bit longer than necessary, hand rubbing her thigh. He catches each suspender as he unhooks it, so it doesn't snap back and hit her, because she smiled and gave him a little nod when he did it the first time. He pulls it off slowly, from the toe, careful not to let it roll up, and puts it on the bed next to her. It is honest to god one of the softest things he's ever felt -- probably silk knowing her.

He does the second one as he did the first, though if he lingers a bit longer, who can really blame him? He rubs his thumb along the tendons on the back of her knee, the curve of muscle on the inside of her thigh.

She may wear them for herself, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get to enjoy it.

*****

Entry #3: "Throwing in the Towel"

"Let's have children," Monica muses, settling her bottom onto my thighs. As she speaks, pellets of water plummet from the sky. "I just watered the flowers," Monica gripes, glaring at the clouds. "I'm going to take a shower." So saying, she leaps off my lap, bounds across the deck, and disappears inside the house.

Moments later, Monica reappears, wrapped in a towel and toting a shower caddy. She saunters past me, deposits her towel onto my lap, and waltzes through the arbor leading to our lawn.

"Conserving water?"

"Being green is in vogue."

As I observe Monica from the patio, my cunt begins to drizzle. I sprint out of my chair, neglecting to remove my clothing as I scuttle across the lawn.

I take the washcloth from her. With ease, I glide the cotton square along her limbs. When I come to her breasts, I am lavish of my attention, sketching sudsy swirls on her skin. The sodden nipples stiffen with approval. I slide the washcloth over her abdomen, traveling toward her cunt.

I knead the cotton into her pussy, the lips puckered with ruffles, like the petals of our petunias. The stimulation provokes a frisson of pleasure, but Monica's moans are drowned out by the downpour.

"Let's have children," I consent, returning to the patio. "Twin girls. We'll dress them in those darling little onesies that say Chicks Dig Me."

"Well," Monica replies, folding her towel around her body, "that'll certainly give new meaning to the term baby dyke."

*****

Entry #4:Interrupted

My fun ended when the patrol car squealed to a stop before my house. I sighed and pulled my canary yellow wrap around me, abandoning my enjoyment. Hopefully my voyeur would hang around. I was at the door when the knock echoed through the hallway. Answering, I made no attempt to conceal my state of undress. I knew who was there.

"What do you want, Frank?"

He dropped his hand as if burned and shifted, pointedly not looking below my mouth. "Uh, sorry, Caroline, but there's been reports of someone prowling around."

He shifted and cleared his throat when his eyes dropped.

"I appreciate the heads up."

He nodded, his gaze still clinging to the expanse of skin available for viewing. "Would you like to come in, Frank?" I asked, despairing my audience had left for safer views and hungry for some sort of company. His head jerked again and he followed me in.

I dropped my wrap and turned into him, dragging his mouth to mine. He groaned, dropped to his knees, buried his head against my belly. "God, Caroline, I can't. I promised I wouldn't." I sat on the hall chair and pulled his head to my cunt.

"Last time, Frank," I murmured. A sound of frustration tore from his throat and he dropped his mouth to taste me. "That's it, baby."

He devoured me a man starved. I opened my eyes to find a shadow in the window and screamed my pleasure, my orgasm shattering me.

*****

Entry #5: Destiny

“Fortunes told, destinies revealed.”


He’d passed by the door every week on his way to his financial advisor’s office without ever considering entering. This time something-a scent?-caught his attention. He paused at the slightly ajar door. It was ridiculous but, thinking about the recent collapse of his entire life, that his financial advisor should have seen coming, he thought, “What do I have to lose?”

The room was so stereotypically a “fortune-teller’s room” he almost turned around. But some reckless impulse made him call out instead. “Hello?”

No response. He heard sounds coming from behind a curtain; ducked through.

And saw her there, poised in the act of pinning up her hair, a pose he found both seductive and vulnerable. She too, looked like a cliché: diaphanous, silky scarves draped her slender body. But her face, when she turned to face him, was no cliché. Eyes dark with mystery caught and held his, full, sensuous lips formed a surprised “O”.

“You,” she said. She placed a hand on the crisp material of his tailored shirt.

A shudder raced over him. Her scent, spicy, sweet, was what had brought him.

Her hand traced his bicep, her eyes bored into his. Her mouth came up and breathed into his. She tasted just like her scent. Her lips were soft, inviting, her tongue warm on his lip. He felt desire race through him, his appointment forgotten. She took his hand and led him further into the room. “You,” she said, “are _my_ destiny.”

*****

Entry #6: Vesti la Giubba

It's stupid how fast he turns me on. Even fully clothed. When he grabbed my ass and told me to wear the gloves, just like that I was hot for him. Elegant on the outside, maybe, but underneath? Just another weak-kneed, wet-pantied girl, aching to be fucked.

He knew it, too. He slipped the usher a twenty to stand watch, then closed the curtains to our private box. The music began and so did he, smooth and slow so as not to draw attention. The zipper was easy. Shimmying out of the dress was tougher, but soon I was sitting there without a stitch on. -- Wait, I'm lying. I still wore the gloves.

I kept my eyes forward, prayed no one would look over. I was shaking: aroused, ashamed, my nipples hard, pulsing like twin beacons in the dark.

He waited until the applause to grip the back of my neck and pull me down face-first into his crotch, and when he forced his cock between my lips I could feel it in my cunt. Suddenly blissfully mindless, I slipped off the seat, knelt in front of him.

All at once, his come was hitting the back of my throat and somebody was slamming into my pussy from behind. I bit back a moan before he clapped his hand over my mouth. I twisted in pleasure, came so hard it was like I'd been punched in the gut.

Sighed.

Then wanted more.

Shameless.

He snickered, pinched a nipple, commanded, "Encore."

*****

Oh, my god. That just took me way to fucking long to lay out. I kept cutting and pasting wrong. Hopefully, when I hit PUBLISH, everything will fall nicely into place. Knock wood for me. Will ya?

XXX,
Alison