29 posts in this topic

6dT0AB4.gif SWEET LIKE CANDY TO MY SOUL
Absolutely gobsmacked at the unforeseen, and quite loaded, revelation, it was actually Bobby that pitched up with a start, administering a light shove (not forceful enough to seem rude or cause harm, and Emma was able to catch the signal all the same) to Emma in an attempt at distancing himself—from her side and from the situation he caused altogether. Through her affecting story, his infatuation quietly morphed into a mild affinity and admiration, then finding himself just as attracted to her bravery as he was her beauty. She was a powerhouse, beyond his usual level of understanding.

“Nah, nah. Lookit, I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, and am probably daft where it concerns a lotta things,” Bobby started, hands up defensively, looking Emma in the face, “but I’m wise enough to know when I’ve strayed into dangerous territory. Maybe it wasn’t my place to have heckled you like I did. I apologize for that.” He rose from the plush seat at that moment, and towered over her withdrawn form. “Look, take it from me when I say I know a thing or two about trauma. I’m not, like, a preacher or anything, but those things can’t define you, man. But far as I see, you’ve already got that figured out, tenfold,” he’d snicker, aware of how meaningless his speech would be to someone as robust and bold as her, notably after expressing as much. “What makes you bigger is the fact that you had big enough balls to not let it dictate you. I respect that a lot. Admire it, actually, which is not something I'd usually admit out loud. ‘Specially not to some broad I just met—no offense, of course. I just think you’re a fucking superhero though, and I hope you know that.”

“But, uh, with that said…” Bobby scratched the back of his head, then continued on as he reverses into the wall opposite Emma, comfortably leaning against it with his hands rested in the pockets of his jeans, “maybe I really should just get out of here. Unless you wanted to let me make it up to you and lighten the mood?” He’d shrug his broad shoulders and bite down on his bottom lip, hoping to best the pull of the temptress with his proposal. “You gotta. See, shit, I even got these dumb puppy dog eyes on for you.”
MONTY
@Mariah.
 
2 people like this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
oOo5rcG.gif YOU COME CRASH INTO ME... AND I COME INTO YOU
An eye roll and a giggle meet Bobby’s playful remark, following a moment for Emma to absorb the high praise directed at her. Was this all an act; a brilliantly written monologue, used to bed any woman of the bachelor’s choosing? As it were, his compliments still sent tremors through the pits of her gut, as though her school girl crush was speaking to her for the first time. But she maintains somewhat of a poker face as she sat before him, one toned leg thrown over the other, stern in her confidence, even if the Casanova was making it waver. She’d met her match.

She holds her index finger beneath the bottom lid of her eye to catch the fallout of her sincere, profound emotion—her story all but forgotten amidst the sense of refuge, solace and ease Bobby continued to emit. Then, releasing her defenses with weakening bones as her suitor’s evolving expression becomes easy to read, she acquiesced. It was obvious; he wanted her as badly as she did him, and whatever he’d suggest meant her heart and body won over her mind and judgement.

“What do you suggest?” she anxiously ponders as her eyes shift up and down, noticing his hands sliding back out his pockets, ready to act with purpose. The bass of the track synchronizes with the blood pumping to and from her organs, as Bobby strides back closer toward her, on rhythm, toying with the buckle of his belt.
MONTY
@Maxim
 
2 people like this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
6dT0AB4.gif SWEET LIKE CANDY TO MY SOUL
Returning before Emma, Bobby leans in slightly and murmurs into her ear with an overwhelming swagger and bravado. “Just lemme know if you’re not comfortable or when you want me to stop.” His left eye winks slowly, just above the appearance of a sexy, puckish smirk, and he glides away again as the tantalizing song picks up in volume, seasoning the sultry, saucy air. He puts about a step and a half between himself and where Emma is sitting, and waits a beat before he makes any movement. It was equal parts a notion for intense dramatic effect, but also (perhaps most essentially) a ruse to conceal his own slight reservation of what he was about to pull. Bobby wasn’t exactly the kind of guy that someone could consider hard-nosed or accuse him of taking himself too seriously. If anything, he feels as if he’s the one people tend to ring up when seeking ‘wild times’. Half a pint of Henny in the system, and it’s game over. That brings him to the root of his current issue, as, for whatever reason, being acutely aware of his actions gives him more anxiety than ever. But none of it stems from any genuine fear of emulating the beauty at her own craft and potentially embarrassing himself—rather a fear of coming on far too strong for the amount of time they’ve known each other and likely scaring her away, thus… embarrassing himself in the process.

He'd brave on, though, wetting his lips and bowing his head slightly as he reaches down to undo his belt, swaying his stiff hips to loosen them. Finding his rhythm and growing in confidence, he pulls his shirt from beneath his pants and slowly teases rolling it off, endowing a peak at his full set of eight immaculately carved abs to the angel across the way. His sight locks to her and her expression of arousal fuels his own; fuck, she was driving him crazy.

The fabric of his top stretches with each tug of his firm hands, then he'd manage to pull it over his head, bearing his fit, muscular torso. He grinds and rolls his abdomen forward—confounded by his natural talent (he did think himself to be of many)—thereafter dragging out his belt and working on the seal of his jeans. Glancing back toward Emma, he playfully pops his pectorals in repetition with another smirk, adding his patent humor to the libido. Slow steps lead him closer to the object of his desire, his pants falling lower and lower with each foot forward, exposing his white Calvins underneath, hugging against his thick, stern glutes. He'd then take the belt and place it over Emma's neck, pulling her into his body heat to face the continued winding of his hips. His muscles cavernous, he takes Emma's hand to guide her along it for exploration, running from his prominent pecs, down his trenched abs, and arriving to massage his large package, begging to be unwrapped. It's then he succumbs to his drive and forwards himself, grazing his lips on hers. Each maneuver serves to carefully widen the gap and introduce his warm tongue, the filiform atop the pink body part massaging Emma's. He climbs on her, still rolling his hips, creating friction against her lap with his hardening length. He'd next move his mouth down the edge of her jaw, to the nape of her neck where he'd suction continuously until the sound of her moans flush out the music ringing through his ear drums. Shifting focus to her ear, back across her chin and down to her collar bone, he'd look to her for permission to undo her robe, which she grants with nod yes and an anticipatory trembling body. "Wow," he whispers upon getting sight of her ample breasts up close, then he'd back away from his meal despite his ravenous hunger, and continues to cater to his woman's sense of sight.

His jeans now below his knees, he turns to show off his back—flexing it for Emma—then draws on the elastic of his boxer briefs to give view of his round, plump ass. He chuckles against his shortened breath, then he'd turn back with a smile, the front of his briefs now pulled against to preview his long, thick shaft. His cock fights against the cotton to escape and stand tall, as the blood continues to suffuse it, showing how badly he wanted to bury himself in her. "You can grab it if you want," he mutters lowly, his chest expanding and collapsing noticeably, and his eyes projecting focus and determination.
MONTY
@Mariah.
 
1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites
oOo5rcG.gif YOU COME CRASH INTO ME... AND I COME INTO YOU
She shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't. But the war raging on between Emma's conscience and her craving was settling with the weaponry the latter wielded. Her eyes become studious in its mantle, able to recognize every detail of Bobby's god-given body. The beauty marking just beneath his left breast matching the one on the outer side of the right cheek of his ass. The jagged shaping of each ab along his torso. The slight curvature of his length upward. His seduction... his eroticism... his energy; all of which were so unrelenting.

She lets a sigh escape her lubricated lips, then reaches forward to grab hold of his manhood, stroking it gently and pulling the rest of his warm body back toward her. She then slips her tongue back into his mouth and allows it to become flush with his own.

They'd continue to knot mouths, fitting together like jigsaw pieces, and she grips into his back. Now dragging her nails down his spine, she stops when she reaches its peak, clenching tight onto his firm, fruitful ass as he wedges himself between her legs, continuing to grind against her to pounding bass of the audio mix carried through their dalliance. With the roll of her neck to force away from his delectable mouth, she beckons for air, then offers herself up to him, pushing her bare, large breasts out for him to traverse as her mound waters.
MONTY
@Maxim
 
1 person likes this

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!


Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.


Sign In Now

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

  • Similar Content

    • Slow Like Honey [M]
      By Mariah.
      .intoforest { position: relative; margin: 20px auto 0px; background: #191919; height: auto; padding: 40px; width: 400px; min-height: 300px; } .intoforest img { position: absolute; height: 250px; width: 480px; object-fit: cover; left: 0px; top: 0px; filter: grayscale(0%) contrast(75%); } .ifoutline { position: relative; min-height: 220px; width: 320px; border: 1px solid #d3e0e5; } .intoforest text { display: block; position: relative; color: #e7e7e7; padding: 30px; margin-top: 210px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 180%; font-family: roboto; padding-bottom: 20px; } .intoforest lyrics { position: absolute; color: #d3e0e5; font-family: overpass; text-transform: uppercase; font-weight: 800; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 10px; width: 150px; line-height: 200%; padding: 20px; } YOU MOVED LIKE HONEY IN MY DREAM The velvet full moon ignites the late night sky, settling to rest in its bedding of clouds. But the city center itself is without sleep, the streets still echoing with trumpeting horns and the prattling of its intoxicated pedestrians, all actively seeking someone to wander home with and extend their after hour debauchery. All but Emma De Angelo...

      Floating out of her taxi in a tiny, silken slip nightgown and a dark, long coat—her head as light and airy as the brisk breeze prompting her nipples to bore through the fabric—Emma serenely makes her way up to her apartment. Like a steaming knife through butter, she cuts through the fog of cannabis smoke, ignoring the catcalls of the young men loitering outside the front doors. After a full shift at her place of work, entertaining the arousal of those who held little of her interest was undesirable. Her attention, instead, was fixated upon the thought of her soft blankets, which she couldn't wait to sink into. But another thought would creep in, doused in a highly flammable liquid named temptation.

      The breeze combs through Emma's loose curls on her way to the vacant elevator and the doors slide shut behind her, leaving her to a state of deep reflection. He was hard to forget. His sinful smirk. His spellbinding blue eyes. His godly physique. The kind but firm grip of his hands on her lush body. She could almost feel him with her, dampening her neck with his soft, warm mouth and tongue; gliding his fingers up her inner thigh, into her dress. Her fantasy was so tangible, she's unable to smother the name Bobby from escaping through her rattling teeth. Perhaps, though, she was only caught amidst the nature of ecstasy the Sirens corridors provided. Perhaps it was only an infatuation and a lust that could be easily extinguished. At least it had to, now that her attention would return to the one man she cared about more than anyone or anything—her little man. She titters to herself at her brief loss of restraint, and prepares to resume her proud maternal responsibility as she prances toward her apartment door and unlocks it.

      The space is pitch black and tranquil, requiring Emma to creep along the hard wood, trying to suppress the sound of her strappy heels knocking against it while she makes her way around. Then, on the sole couch of her still empty apartment, she'd come to find the sitter fast asleep with her baby boy. She smiles at the pleasant scene, grateful and relieved for another day safely drawn to a close for the most valuable person ever to enter her life, then picks him up in her arms and carries him to lay in his own bed. Thereafter returning to the living room area, she pulls a blanket over the sitter and makes her way to the kitchen where a letter is found atop the counter. 'Emma,' it read 'I deeply regret to inform you that I'll be moving back to Vancouver in a few days time due to a sudden family emergency, which naturally means I won't be able to sit for Lucas like I agreed to. The both of you have been angels for the week I've known you, and I sincerely apologize for the last minute announcement, especially in letter form. ESPECIALLY while you're still having your stuff moved in and you're getting ready to begin school, both of which are already worrying. I know it won't be easy to find another sitter in this crazy city, specifically one willing to spend the night in order to accommodate your job, but if you need any kinda referral, just give me a call if I'm gone before you wake. All the best my love.'

      Now overcome with fret and frustration, Emma crumples up the letter and aggressively pulls open the cabinet for a mug for hot chocolate, inadvertently jerking the delicate wood from its hinges. "Fuck me," she murmurs whilst the door hangs from her strained hand, the door battering against the counter top by the force of gravity. "How is this place already falling apart? God, I need a fucking cigarette." Setting down the wooden door, Emma would turn her attention toward the drawer instead for a new pack, only then the drawer would also break before her. "Jesus fucking Christ!" she exclaims, leading the sitter to shuffle and slowly wake. The young mother clenches her eyes closed, grabs the pack of cigarettes and her lighter, then hurries out the apartment to decompress, knowing her son would still be safe with his caregiver while she wandered the dark, wild concrete jungle for some time alone.

      With the burning cigarette stem pressed between her pouty lips, Emma struts against the sidewalk, breathing in the mix of Pacific wind and nicotine, then out a stream of smoke. With every inhale came her uncertainty regarding her decision to move to Olympia, but an exhale gave temporary relief; primarily an assurance things will fall into place. A few blocks into her journey for solace, she hears the faint strumming of an acoustic guitar, then turns her head to its direction. "It's last call and this is my last song," a male voice would utter, gentle and soothing in its dynamic. The sounds were all beautiful and spellbinding; but what of the sight? She peers through the window of the small bar venue to her right, then wedges her cigarette between her index and middle finger to free her mouth as she stares through the smoke she emits, into the distant crystal blue eyes of the talented musician. His golden mane was pushed back—except for stray locks which fell over his heavenly face and strong, wild brows—and his pink lips formed into a frown. He appeared both benign and brooding; romantic and raunchy. He was a treat to the eyes, just as he was the ears. He was, in his entirety: art. And maybe he was what she needed right at this moment, following her long night. Maybe watching him—experiencing whatever beauty he offered for one to indulge in—could help her unwind. If nothing else, she was a passionate fan of music, and her interest was piqued.

      She extinguishes her cigarette against the brick building, then makes her way into the bar, finding an empty space before the attractive musician to take in his sweet, irresistible song... to take in all of him. MONTY   @ris
    • Doll Parts
      By Queen of Hens
      .intoforest { position: relative; margin: 20px auto 0px; background: #191919; height: auto; padding: 40px; width: 400px; min-height: 300px; } .intoforest img { position: absolute; height: 250px; width: 480px; object-fit: cover; left: 0px; top: 0px; filter: grayscale(0%) contrast(75%); } .ifoutline { position: relative; min-height: 220px; width: 320px; border: 1px solid #d3e0e5; } .intoforest text { display: block; position: relative; color: #e7e7e7; padding: 30px; margin-top: 210px; text-align: justify; font-size: 12px; line-height: 180%; font-family: roboto; padding-bottom: 20px; } .intoforest lyrics { position: absolute; color: #d3e0e5; font-family: overpass; text-transform: uppercase; font-weight: 800; font-size: 10px; letter-spacing: 10px; width: 150px; line-height: 200%; padding: 20px; } I FAKE IT SO REAL, I AM BEYOND FAKE New Year's had been a total bust for the irresistible Jessica Taylor, despite the grand nature of the event she had managed to throw together. Spending hours solely trying to entertain herself with constant dancing, playful flirting, and nonstop drinking, it proved to be a fruitless task for the young socialite as the night went on. As a result, she quickly grew tired of the fruitless endeavor, unable to find a way to make things work for her tastes. Her complete and utter boredom almost forced her to go back to darker times in her life, though Jess knew better, especially in such a public setting as tonight. All eyes were on her, even if she wanted them or not, including those of her intimidating lover. He didn't like it when she got high, and she didn't want to upset him. Sitting alone in the luxurious lobby of the rented out hotel, she takes a small sip from her bubbly champagne, watching with disinterested eyes as guests began to slowly trickle out. Occasionally waving goodbye or flashing a warm smile to her 'friends', she mostly keeps her attention on the growing sea of bodies that shuffle out the doors, never looking up unless she was approached.

      As the last of the attendees make their way out, Jessica rises from her seat, grateful that the night's events had finally come to an end. Brushing off her glittering silver gown, she carefully walks over to the front desk, sweeping her flowing brown locks behind her bare shoulder. Setting her now empty crystal glass on the marble counter, she lets out a sigh of relief. Meeting the dull and wrinkled eyes of the uptight hotel manager, Jess flashes him a provocative smile, her glossy lips catching the warm light of the dimly lit room. "Thank you for having us tonight. I'll make sure the cleaning crew leaves the ballroom better than we found it." Adjusting the older man's tie, she finishes her final statement with a purr. "I'll be sure to leave a good word with Mr. White about the evening's events. Expect us back real soon." Perking up, he thankfully nods at the young woman, helping her into her white fur as she heads toward the exit. Gracefully making her way to the front of the hotel, she waves the man off, prepared to return home for the night.

      Meeting the cool Olympian air with reluctance, Jessica finds herself in a world far more familiar to her: one of cold and bitter loneliness. Clinging onto her fur for warmth, she solemnly makes her way down the luxurious roads of Ida Hills, which gradually transition into the deep and dark recesses of Erebus Square. Her extravagant attire attracts the leering eyes of many, inciting fear within the young woman despite the familiarity of the road. This wasn't the first such trip for her, and wouldn't be the last either. Up until now, no one had made a move on her, tried to strip her bare of the many riches she sported, though that fear always lingered in the back of her mind. Just as her anxiety was soaring to neurotic levels, she suddenly arrives at her usual spot in the concrete jungle, bright yellow vehicles speeding all around her. Taking a deep breath, she struggles to flag one of them down, many of the beaten taxis already carrying inebriated passengers back to their homes. Walking up and down the lonely sidewalks, she almost laughs in relief as a vehicle comes to a halt. Running to its side, she thankfully reaches for the door handle, only to come into contact with a hand similar to her own. Looking up, she meets the eyes of a young woman, who also seems eager to escape the unsettling night. Frowning in disappointment, she shoots the girl a friendly smile, pulling her hand away. "I'm sorry. I thought I managed to flag him down." MONTY @Mariah.