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Archived
December 3, 2006 - December 9,
2006
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Saturday, December 9,
2006
I'd
Hit It!
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Mmmm...
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Kandi
Kane
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posted by: Neo ©
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Check
This - AC Movie Pass Review
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posted by: Neo ©
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Cheezy
& Sleazy Pick-up Lines
| 1. Pardon me miss, I seem to have lost my phone
number, could I borrow yours?
2. I may not be the best looking guy here, but
I'm the only one talking to you. |
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posted by: Neo
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Antique
Photos & Critique
I think this
photo was shot sometime in the 1960's.
I don't care
too much for this week's
Retro
Photo. Technically there's nothing to really like. Again, like so many
other bad photos, it is just all one tone of grey with no contrast, no
fancy lighting, no nothing. Another thing that bothers me about the pic
is that I cannot tell what it is that the model is humping; maybe it's
a fence - hard to tell.
Speaking of
humping... The model. She really doesn't do a whole lot for me either.
I absolutely hate her hair-do, she looks to have buck-teeth - though I
do have to admit that that just may be the moment that the camera clicked.
What's the good stuff? Hmmm... She had nice tits - deffo a plus in my book.
And, on first looks, she seems to have a nice slender body - definitely
not a fatty. But, on second looks, she does have some cellulite going on...
Hmmm... Then on third looks, she does have nice big expressive eyes, and
she even looks like maybe she's some type of slavic descent - which means
that she probably has a really nice dark and hairy pussy. Ok then, give
her another hair-do, some braces and a little exercise and... she's not
too bad.
The photo doesn't
work for me and the model kinda works for me. And even though she only
kinda works for me, I would still so do her :o)
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posted by: Neo ©
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| Friday, December 8, 2006
Adult
Erotica - CHRISTMAS MILK
As a Milkman
I oftentimes find myself delivering milk before most people even get up.
As such, you tend to find people in their most interesting . . .
shall we say, attire. You are there when they least expect you, and
when they seldom even notice your presence. At Christmas time each
year, people are often generous with gifts for the milkman, tips, cookies,
cakes, even gloves or maybe a knit hat. As a Senior in High School
I had been running the milk route for two years, and it was my third Christmas,
so I had gotten to know most of my customers quite well.
As the week
progressed, I gathered the usual items . . . Then Christmas came
and went . . . Then the Monday after Christmas, as I neared the end
of my route, the door suddenly opened as I bent to put the milk in the
box. "Oh! Micah!" Came the startled remark. "You scared
me!"
"Sorry Mrs.
D. . . . " I replied as I picked up the milk to hand it to
my vice principal's wife. As I looked at her, she was standing there
in a short robe and a Santa hat, not looking startled at all.
"I forgot your
Christmas present this year Micah, but it's still here. Come on in
and I'll give it to you."
With some reservation,
I entered their house. At school, her husband and I did not always
see eye to eye. Yet, his wife was very pretty . . . She was
blonde, about 5'6," full figured and in great shape for her being between
30 and 35-years-old and having two kids. She had me follow her into
the living room, where the tree still flickered with its Christmas cheer.
As she bent over to pick through the gifts, her robe slid up revealing
a beautiful ass that was covered only by a small black bikini bottom.
Her legs were placed just far enough apart to allow a view of the pussy
line beneath the scant fabric. I looked down the hall nervously,
her husband recently discharged from the Marines, was 6'6" and 250 lbs.,
and this scene was all that he would need to rip my head off . . .
She dug through the toys and ties, torturing me with her ass and the whiplash
I was getting looking down the hall.
After what
seemed to be an eternity, although I'm sure that it really was no more
than a minute, she squealed "Here it is!" too loud for a sleeping house
at 5:00 A.M. She then straightened up and turned toward me with nothing
but the belt of her robe in her hands. As her robe fell open she
shrugged her shoulders letting it fall to the floor. My eyes couldn't
believe that this woman was standing in front of me wearing nothing but
a tiny black bikini that was barley covering her 38-28-38-figure.
WOW! I took a step backwards, rubber-necking the hall and the bedroom
door, knowing that either I was in heaven or I was about to die in some
sort of high school hell.
Mrs. D. giggled,
"It's OK, Lorenzo took the kids skiing for three days." Her blonde
hair hung loosely about her shoulders, wearing that red Santa hat and black
bikini definitely grabbed my full attention. "I'm sorry that I missed
you before, but let me unwrap it for you." She reached behind her
back releasing the catch, then to her neck leaving the strings over her
shoulders. As she came toward me, she shimmied her chest like a professional
stripper and away fell her top. She walked over to me with her melon
size breasts swaying ever so slightly showing off her hard, pink nipples.
"You look cold . . . Let me warm your cheeks." With that, she
reached up and gently pulled my face into her breasts warming my cold cheeks
and nose. "Now how do you like your Christmas tip?"
I kissed her
erect nipples and told her that it was the best ever. "You haven't
seen anything yet . . ." She purred into my ear. I started
to peal off my clothing when she stopped me. "Let me do it!"
Then slowly, at a rate that was designed to drive this teenager wild, she
slid my clothing off of my nubile young body, nibbling as she went.
When at last I stood there wearing nothing but my shorts and a smile Mrs.
D. stepped back and admired her work.
My shorts were
being pushed to their limit by my hard cock. She reached down giving it
a squeeze before leading me, dick in hand, to an easy chair where she had
me sit down. She then stepped toward the tree once again, stopping
at the stereo. "This song always turns me on." Mrs. D. told
me as Sinatra crooned "White Christmas." She danced slowly dropping
her final article of clothing. As she pulled the black cloth from
her blonde patch glistened in the flickering lights, she came to the chair
pulling me to a standing position before finally pulling my shorts off.
She then took
me in her mouth, sliding my eager cock down her throat, where it immediately
exploded. She took my thrusts and swallowed the full load.
As I tried to apologize, she stopped me and said, "I expected that.
Now we can have some real fun!"
At an age when
most guys wanted only to get a piece of ass, I loved to eat pussy, and
was beginning to get a rep amongst the girls for doing so. Mrs. D.
moaned with delight as my long tongue slid down her thighs and across her
clit. Her wet pussy tasted like a dream! As I licked deeper,
she clamped her thighs around my head pulling my face further in as she
came all over my face.
She collapsed
upon the floor, spent for a minute. That is when I heard a rumble
in the background . . . I had left my delivery truck parked on the
street, running. I jumped up and started to get dressed when I heard
"Where are you going so fast?"
"Sorry Mrs.
D. but I have to finish my route!" I said as I pulled on my pants.
She stood up
and slipped her robe back on. "Can you come back later?"
I assured her
that I would, if I could. She saw me to the door and turned to kiss
me directly upon the lips. She said, "One more thing before you go
. . ." To this day I'm not sure how she did it but in one swift motion
she grabbed my pants and pulled them down to my knees, sliding my cock
into her mouth and bringing it to immediate, full attention. She
then slipped off and sucked my balls into her mouth, before sliding her
tongue up the underside of my cock. Pulling my pants back over it,
she replied, "Now I'm sure that you'll come back!" Having said that,
she shoved me out the door.
I climbed into
the old milk truck and looked back at the livingroom window where Mrs.
D. stood wearing nothing but the Santa hat and a smile, knowing full well
that I would be back . . .
THE END
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Christmas
Comix - Naughty X-Rated Cartoons & Erotic Christmas Stories
|
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Illustrated
Erotic Tales
For Sci-Fi
Erotica, Gothic Horror Stories, Tales of Death
and Sexy Detective
Stories, Check Out:
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posted by: Neo ©
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Check
This - Adult Movie Page - "Thumbs"
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posted by: Neo ©
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Naughty
Lesbian Pics
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posted by: Neo ©
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Porn Jester
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Check
This - Big Titties
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posted by: Neo
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Harem
Girls & Belly Dancers
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posted by: Neo
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Friday
Funnies
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Thursday, December 7,
2006
Sneak
Peek Preview - Blogger Babe - Megan Martinez
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Next
Week's Blog Babe
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Megan Martinez
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posted by: Neo ©
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Japanese
Shunga
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posted by: Neo
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Check
This - Close-ups
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posted by: Neo
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This Week's
Chain E-Mail
| For those who enjoy the philosophy
of ambiguity...
1. Don't sweat the petty things and
don't pet the sweaty things.
2. One tequila, two tequila, three
tequila, floor..
3. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.
4. If man evolved from monkeys and
apes, why do we still have monkeys and apes?
5. The main reason Santa is so jolly
is because he knows where all the bad girls live.
6. I went to a bookstore and asked
the saleswoman, "Where's the self-help section?" She said if she told me,
it would defeat the purpose.
7. What if there were no hypothetical
questions?
8. If a deaf person swears, does
his mother wash his hands with soap?
9. If someone with multiple personalities
threatens to kill himself, is it considered a hostage situation?
10. Is there another word for synonym?
11. Where do forest rangers go to
"get away from it all?"
12. What do you do when you see an
endangered animal eating an endangered plant?
13. If a parsley farmer is sued,
can they garnish his wages?
14. Would a fly without wings be
called a walk?
15. Why do they lock gas station
bathrooms? Are they afraid someone will clean them?
16. If a turtle doesn't have a shell,
is he homeless or naked?
17. Can vegetarians eat animal crackers?
18. If the police arrest a mime,
do they tell him he has the right to start speaking?
19. Why do they put Braille on the
drive-through bank machines?
20. How do they get deer to cross
the road only at those yellow road signs?
21. What was the best thing before
sliced bread?
22. One nice thing about egotists:
they don't talk about other people.
23. Does the Little Mermaid wear
an algebra?
24. Do infants enjoy infancy as much
as adults enjoy adultery?
25. How is it possible to have a
civil war?
26. If one synchronized swimmer drowns,
do the rest drown, too?
27. If you ate both pasta and antipasto,
would you still be hungry?
28. If you try to fail, and succeed,
which have you done?
29. Whose cruel idea was it for the
word "Lisp" to have "S" in it?
30. Why are hemorrhoids called "hemorrhoids"
instead of "assteroids"?
31. Why is it called tourist season
if we can't shoot at them?
32. Why is there an expiration date
on sour cream?
33. If you spin an oriental man in
a circle three times does he become disoriented?
34. Can an atheist get insurance
against acts of God? |
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posted by: Neo
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Somnophilia
- Sex with Innocent Sleeping Girls
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posted by: Neo ©
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Gallery
Show - Amadeus Art Gallery - Berlin
The collection
of Sexy Furniture by Mario Philippona and the paintings by Bruno di Maio
will be on exhibit throughout the month of December at the Amadeus
Art Gallery (Berlin, Germany).
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posted by: Neo
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UpDates
& Reviews
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give "Detective
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posted by: Neo ©
.
Check
This - Hidden Cam Stories
.
posted by: Neo ©
.
Wednesday, December 6,
2006
Featured
Artist "Spotlight" - Hazel Dooney
Click
Here for More From Hazel Dooney
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posted by: Neo
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Face
Down, Ass Up is How We Like to Fuck
Doggy Style Divas
|
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posted by: Neo ©
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Yummy
Blogger Babes
|
Blog
Babe
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|
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Celeste
|
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posted by: Neo ©
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Tramp
Stamps
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posted by: Neo ©
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| Featured
Writer - Tess @ Urban Gypsy - Isabella's Eyes - Part 13 (Click
Here for Part 12), (Click
Here for Part 1)
A warning -
this story contains non-consensual sex, something I am in no way advocating.
I wasn't even sure I wanted to write about it but the story seemed to go
this way and I went along with it. And while I hope this doesn't really
need to be said, I will say it anyway, sex should always be between consenting
adults. Carry on.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few more
days pass in what seems like a haze. There are times when I fear if I touch
her she'll vanish, as if this has all been a beautiful illusion. Her laughter
fills my house. Her smile so bright and genuine that when I wake up, it's
the first thing I want to see. I want her to touch all my things, in case
by some magic she is able to impart them with her essence, leave something
of herself behind. I don't punish her once. I don't feel the desire. I
know it's temporary; I am under no illusion that I won't soon crave tasting
her tears when I kiss her face, a face contorted in either pain or in ecstasy.
So similar, I've studied these things, I know.
When I need
to go out, I ask her if she'd like to come with me. She surprises me by
asking if it's alright if she stays behind. Perhaps she doesn't want the
world intruding on this fantasy we have created. Only I know it must end.
I am afraid she is utterly unaware; I haven't told her of my imminent return
to work.
She busies
herself in the kitchen or reading. She takes long baths that fill the bathroom
with swirling clouds of vapor. I sometimes join her and she nestles her
ass onto my crotch, hair, long and wet, caught between her back and my
chest when she lays her head back to rest on my shoulder. I don't fuck
her in the bath; water and sex are overrated, but the bathroom counter
and the cool tile floor have seen the urgency of our desires.
We sleep in
my bedroom. Arms and legs entwined, coming apart only to find a new position
that allows us to remain in contact. I like it best when her back is pressed
to my chest, when my face rests on her shoulder so I can breathe in the
sweet scent of her. I could lose myself forever; my cock stirring when
she shifts in her sleep, her ass radiating warmth against me. Absorbed,
I listen to the soft sounds of her breath and find myself wondering if
this is what it's like to have a child, to just sit and watch and listen,
making sure another breath follows the last. It makes me wonder if I am
losing my grip, having such thoughts; me, Gabriel, the man with the well
used dungeon in his basement.
Sleep eludes
me as I struggle with the thoughts that flood my mind. I know I am complicated,
perhaps too complicated. I wonder if I could ever be satisfied with simplicity.
Isabella is simple in her lack of pretense, in her openness, in her ability
to give herself, to boldly express her love for me even in such upside
down circumstances. Maybe she is the perfect counterbalance for me. Maybe
she is just what I need.
I unwrap my
arms from around her chest, get up from bed and sit on the sage suede chaise
lounge beneath the window. I look out onto the dark and silent street,
watching a lone car make its way down the block, its headlights momentarily
casting a beam of light on my face, and then it's gone, the street dark
once again. I have to let her go; I have to take her home. I can't continue
this, I can't pretend any longer, play house with her, toy with her emotions;
I can't do it anymore.
Lost in my
thoughts, I don't realize she's awake until she's there in front of me,
reaching out and softly stroking my cheek. “Gabriel, you look so glum.
Come back to bed with me. Look, it's three AM.”
I swallow hard.
It's time.
“Sit beside
me, Isabella. I need to tell you something.”
God, her nakedness
is distracting. That waterfall of ebony hair she innocently sweeps back
behind her shoulder reveals her perfect teardrop breasts, reminding me
of how it feels to suck her nipple into my mouth, my hands cupping the
weight of her breasts, lost in the warmth that emanates from her, the silkiness
of her perfect creamy skin, the rigidity of her nipple growing harder in
my mouth. The weight of her head as she rests it on my shoulder brings
me back to the moment. I turn to her, take her shoulders in my hands and
hold her at arms length, as if this distance will make it easier. She looks
so innocent, so expectant. Even after all that has occurred she expects
good news. I wish her good heartedness was enough to restore my hope, my
faith, rekindle a part of my lost innocence. I find myself smirking at
the thought; my innocence returning is as likely as being sprinkled with
pixie dust and becoming a prince.
“Isabella,
I am sending you home,” I say. Simple and direct, is there need for more?
She looks impassively
at me for long moments. Then her lips go slack, her eyes register confusion,
she starts to talk and stops and just shakes her head back and forth, no.
She turns her face away from me, it hides nothing, even her profile reflects
her pain and confusion. When she looks back at me, I see the inevitable
tears. We are opposites, Isabella and I. She is raw, unrestrained emotion.
I am governed by logic, I feel things deeply but I don't make decisions
based on feelings, with this one glaring exception that now sits trembling
beside me.
“I don't understand.
Why would you want me to leave? You know how I feel about you, Gabriel.
You said you felt the same. How could you know that, feel as I do and want
me to go?”
“It's not that
I want you to go, pet. But I have to make right what I've done. Sending
you home doesn't suffice, but it's a start.”
“I won't go,
Gabriel. I won't go. You can't do this to me, keep me here against my will
and then just when I start to know you, to care, to need you, you throw
me away.” Her sadness and surprise give way to anger; those beautiful eyes
of hers glare at me, as a flood of emotion washes over her. “If you make
me leave I'll go to the police, I'll tell them what you did. I promise
you. I will.”
“Of course,
I've considered that you might do that, Isabella. You have every right
to do just so. If that is what you decide, I'll accept the consequences.”
She gets up
from the chaise, puts on a robe and opens the door. She walks out without
a word or a backward glance. I'm suddenly so cold. I wonder if it's the
air or if I already feel what it will be like when she's gone; an absence
of warmth and light. I resume gazing out the window. Of course I'll go
to her, but not yet. She needs time on her own to come to grips with the
idea. In truth so do I.
Each minute
is an eternity. I reflect that I haven't shed a tear in years; I have been
so hardened, so inured to the pain that is my world, the blackness of my
soul. The beast never cries; he survives on pure instinct; there is no
room for tears in his world. When I think about the empty space Isabella's
loss will create, I feel that the possibility of tears exists.
I find her
in the kitchen, a cup of tea on the table, both her hands wrapped around
it absorbing its soothing warmth. The air is scented with jasmine, she
asked for jasmine green tea, and I bought her the best I could find. She
stares blankly into the fragrant liquid even after I place my palm on her
shoulder.
“Isabella.
I don't do this to punish you, quite the opposite…..”
“I don't know
how you can do this at all,” she interrupts.
“I've been
on vacation. I'll be going back to work in a few days, then what, Isabella?
We can't keep the real world at bay forever. You have a home and a life
that I've kept you from. I can't do that any longer.”
“Oh now you
worry, after having me email my job about some emergency, my parents about
some vacation and my boyfriend telling him to basically fuck off. Forgive
me if I doubt your sincerity, Gabriel.”
She stands
suddenly turning to face me, pushing against my chest to move me out of
her way. I hold my ground for a moment and she suddenly slaps my face.
I feel less than a sting but it makes me angry. I feel the familiar fury
building, the room taking on a red hue and I move out of her way and let
her pass lest I give in to the growing rage. I take a few deep breathes,
letting the air calm and soothe me, a quick meditation focused on deep
inhalations and exhalations. I don't want to hurt her now, not physically,
so I wait until the red has abated before returning to find her pacing
the bedroom. She sees me come in and sits at the edge of the bed, reaching
over for a pillow that she clutches to her chest protectively.
“Pet, I am
trying to make this right. It's insufficient but what else can I do?”
She looks at
the pillow in her lap, not at me. “You know what's wrong, Gabriel? What's
really wrong here. Me. I'm wrong. My life has been wrong. You want me to
go home, but the truth is I've never felt more at home then in these days
with you. My parents, you know, they barely cared for me as a child. I
had a place to live, a lovely place to live, but a home, no. They were
rarely there. They were too busy with their careers, their charities and
their friends to ever invest time with me.”
Looking up,
meeting my eyes, I nod at her and she continues, “Friends? I never got
along with women. I have only ever had the most casual friendships. I'd
be invited to go out with women or to their homes and their husbands or
boyfriends would look at me, look at me with that look, and it wouldn't
be long before I stopped being invited. I know I must be beautiful, Gabriel,
enough people have told me so. But I look in the mirror and I just see
me. The lost little girl I've always seen.” Her voice breaks, and I sit
beside her, wrap her in my arms, and let her weep until she is able to
speak again.
“I haven't
lacked for dates. But it's as if my looks were all men were interested
in. No one ever took the time to get to know me, to care about who I was
beneath the veneer. You, Gabriel, you know me. I feel it. I have never
felt it before. I'm not wrong. You're attracted to my looks, but you are
just as happy, maybe more so seeing me broken and bleeding, seeing what
lies beneath the surface. It's crazy perhaps but this is where I feel most
at home. When you have hurt me, I hate you and at the same time it's when
I want you the most; to be wrapped in your arms, feel your lips grazing
the top of my head, hear you whispering in my ear that I'm your good girl.
I don't understand it, Gabriel, I really don't. I only know I can't go
home. This, here with you, this feels like home.”
“And knowing
that I'll hurt you again, Isabella, this doesn't frighten you? Knowing
that even now as I sit quietly next to you, part of my mind sees you in
the dark, tied to my cross, whimpering, waiting breathlessly for that first
lash of my whip and it excites me.”
“Part of me
wants to be there, Gabriel. Because I know how you'll take care of me after,
I know I'll feel more loved then I've ever been when you carry me to bed
when I'm too weak to walk.” She stops talking and sighs deeply. “I'm so
tired now, Gabriel, please let's go to bed. Hold me, just hold me. We can
talk about this in the morning.”
She stands,
her hands float to the belt of the robe. I replace her hands with mine,
loosen the belt, pull her closer and kiss the flat plane of her belly,
stopping above her sex. My hands slides down and she unconsciously parts
her thighs allowing me to cup her wet cunt.
“No,” she says,
shaking her head.
“No?” I query.
“No,” she says
again, straddling me, her warm thighs pressed against mine; I fall back
as she unexpectedly pushes on my shoulders. She smiles at me, a sad smile,
one that takes effort. “This time, Gabriel, let me,” she says as she shifts
to place her cunt over my erect cock. “Let me, let me,” she whispers as
her cunt envelopes me with the heat of her desire, so damn wet that I slide
in effortlessly. “Let me,” again as she lowers her face to mine, her hair
cascading down, framing her face and mine. Her pink tongue peeks out of
slightly parted lips, lips she lets hover just above my own, as she starts
moving her hips slowly up and down on my cock, impaling herself over and
over. She starts to say it again, I hear ‘let’ once more, but it's lost
to a deep moan and then her mouth meets mine, as her movements become faster
and she takes my cock deeper, grinding her cunt against my groin, my cock
buried to the hilt inside her swollen walls.
I let her.
But more than that, I let myself get lost in her, telling myself just this
time. And knowing that it's a lie.
(Click
Here for Part 14)
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Tuesday, December 5, 2006
Pervert
Jack
.
.
Poetry
- INSIDES
INSIDES
MY
INSIDES
ARE
REACHING OUT
THRASHING ABOUT
SAYING
SOMEONE PLEASE
HUG ME
HOLD ME
BE MY FRIEND
AND
LOVE ME
LONELINESS
IS
RETCHING
MY BRAIN
SOMEBODY PLEASE
LOVE ME
CARE FOR ME
I NEED IT
SO BAD
|
.
posted by: Elsie Bee
©
.
Check
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The Black Leather Blindfold, Ankle
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Toon
Tuesday
I love erotic
toons!
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posted by: Neo ©
.
Monday, December 4, 2006
Monday
Toons
.
.
Three
Christmas Jokes
1.
A family is sitting around the supper table. The son asks his father, "Dad,
how many kinds of breasts are there? The father, surprised, answers,
"Well, son, there are three kinds of breasts. In her twenties, a women's
breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her thirties to forties, they
are like pears, still nice but hanging a bit. After fifty, they are like
onions." "Onions?" "Yes, see them and they make you cry."
This infuriated the wife and daughter so the daughter said, "Mum, how many
kinds of willies are there?" The mother, surprised, smiles and looks
at her daughter and answers, "Well dear, a man goes through three
phases. In a man's twenties, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and
hard. In his thirties and forties, it is a birch, flexible but reliable.
After his fifties, it is like a Christmas tree " "A Christmas tree?"
"Yes, dead from the root up and the balls are for decoration only"
2.
Q: Why did Frosty the Snowman pull his pants down?
A: He was
waiting for the snow blower.
3.
A little boy sits on Santa's lap. Santa says "I bet I know what you want
for Christmas," and with his finger he taps the boys nose with every letter
he spells "T-O-Y-S". The little boy thinks a second and says, "No, I have
enough toys." Santa replies once again tapping the boys nose with every
letter, "C-A-N-D-Y." Again the little boy thinks a second and says,
"No, I have all kinds of candy." "Well what would you like for Christmas?"
Santa asks. The little boy replies, tapping Santa on the nose, "P-U-S-S-Y,
and don't tell me you don't have any because I can smell it on your finger!"
.
posted by: Neo
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Sunday, December 3, 2006
Blogger
Babe - Kyla King
Kyla King is a very sultry (yet innocent),
21 year old, 5’5, 115 lb, European, girl next door, Hottie. She has long,
middle of her back, dirty blonde / reddish hair, captivating green eyes,
niiiice lips with a sultry smile and a sexy sneer, slender, body with porcelain
(I can't go out in the sun) pink skin, tiny 34B tits with tiny pink nipples,
flat stomach with a pierced belly button, scorpion tattoo on her arm, a
great doggy-style arch, and a completely shaved & very pink pussy –
probably one of the pinkest pussies that I have ever seen. (See
this week's Blogger Babe Pic).
The agent that I usually work with
gave me a call, said that he had a model that he thought I should do a
shoot with, and sent over Kayla's pic. He told me that she was from the
Netherlands, was here with her husband, visiting and working the porn world
and was only here for a few weeks. Apparently she's big over there. Actually
I had never heard of her, but what the hell do I know? Rhetorical question.
She looked nice, was a hot blonde babe, I haven't shot a blonde in a while,
so I said sure and booked her.
The next day Kyla and her husband
showed up, we sat, talked, discussed the shoot, checked ID's, signed releases,
blah, blah, blah… They were both very nice people and I think that we all
enjoyed our talk. But enough talk, it was time to get to work. Kyla brought
a suitcase full of wardrobe – which was great for a little variety. I hate
always having to use my wardrobe on the models.
Hubby had to take off for a while,
leaving me with this very sultry, girl-next-door, babe with a thick European
accent. I am such a sucker for accents. And even though I am not into blondes,
there was deffo something about her, and I was sooooo wanting to fuck her.
But, she has a husband and… oh well… big heavy sigh…
We got to work and Kyla was a dream
to work with. She was professional, she was fun, was quick, had great ideas,
kept looking at me with those “I want to fuck you eyes” and over the next
3 or 4 hours we shot 9 different set-ups including; cheerleader,
schoolgirl,
a bondage scene with a Metal
Posture Bar (supplied for the shoot by Eros
Boutique), a lingerie masturbation scene with a big blue dildo,
a pink balloons & mirror masturbation scene, a funky orange slut outfit
with black, cum-fuck-me boots, webcam
& voyeur scenes,
and finally my favorite – a Somnophilia
- Sleepy Sex Fetish, scene. Mmmm… So pink, so sweet, so innocent, so
asleep…
Hubby came back just as we were finishing
up. He helped with the last scene, then we all sat around, chatted for
a while, and finished up the paperwork… As I previously mentioned – nice
couple. I almost felt guilty for wanting to have sex with Kyla… Naaa, not
really – LOL
They left, only to return a few days
later. We went over the photos, I burned her a CD of choice pix for use
on her website, we hugged, said that we'd keep in touch (Big shock - we
haven't), and they left to go back to the Netherlands.
If you want to see more of Kyla King,
check out; "Porn
Jester's White Girls," "Triple
X Cams," and "Somnophilia
- Sex with Sleeping Girls".
.
posted by: Neo ©
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