Hardcore Amateur Pics - How To Something Your Karups Free

Both are naked. The man’s still in bed, his body half covered by the sheets. Unknown men pick up the recycling outside. The stink of their truck through the open window, the clink of metal and glass. He wakes up facing the girl, her back to him as she uses the computer. Her bare calves are long teardrops, obscured by the desk chair. The half moon of her ass, the dimple of her back as she arches it, stretching. He’s hard, again. The girl nude amateurs gallery turns: her breasts are full, pale. Nipples like silver dollars. He closes his eyes and thinks of last night, of tasting her. "You’re awake," she says, perching on the corner of the bed. "Mmmm," he says. She leans back into the pillows next to him, waiting for him to turn over. This is their third week as a couple, but they try to act totally comfortable: no boundaries. After all, it’s 2012. The TV’s blue glow—they’d been too distracted to turn it off last night. She wraps her fingers around his cock, strokes him as she outlines her plans for the day. They’ll have breakfast, something light—yogurt, maybe, and coffee. There’s a book sale they could go to, supporting the library. How does that sound? "Mmmm," he says again. "Good. Sounds good." She loves this—can’t get enough. The way he changes from her touch. Gets harder, thicker. How big he is! That she can cause this in a person, it defies belief. After that, she says, there’s always lunch. Or maybe we could catch a movie? Something like that. Outside, the men leave; all is quiet. No other roommates seem up. The man smiles, turns. Kisses her, long and on the lips. With other women, he’s always been shy—afraid of saying the wrong thing. Not now. He kisses her again, on the cheek, whispers in her ear. What? Whispers again: "I want to fuck you." That word! Oh god—to be taken, to be out of breath. To sweat with him. Under him. His body over hers, her ankles around his back or her knees bent up to her chest. Him inside of her, so fast and so hard it might hurt if it wasn’t so damn perfect. Her wrists pinned to her side. Oh to be fucked. To have this man—his thick, purplish cock—actually inside of her own body. God. "Oh do you?" she asks. He smiles, says yes. She takes him into her mouth. "Mmm. Oh fuck." Just once, she takes all of him, her lips stretched around the base of his cock. "Well," she says, standing. "Too bad." She walks toward the bathroom, his eyes on her the whole way. Starts the shower. The girl is already soapy when he climbs in with her. He reaches out: "I’m trying to bathe." Kisses her. The shower’s curtain’s a giant periodic table. "Wait." He can’t take her, this girl. She’s too much: her body, her smile, how unafraid she is of wanting him. Every day, he feels ready to explode. To pop. He could make love to her forever, he thinks. She shampoos and rinses her hair, biting her lip as she looks at him. His cock’s standing straight up. At attention, saluting her. Showering together, he feels vulnerable. No way to hide what he wants, what’s on his mind. "Do you want to shave my legs?" she asks. What? "Do you want to shave them?" She holds out her razor. "Listen, it’s not that weird. We shower together. This is part of that." Can’t you do it? "If you want to fuck me, you’ll shave my legs." And so of course he relents and takes the razor. It’s pink, the blades surrounded by a sort of lubricating bar. She turns away, backs into him until they’re nearly touching, their bodies nestled together like they’re spooning standing up. She lifts her leg, puts her foot up on the side of the tub with her knee bent. She’s hoping he’ll take her right here: just position himself and push himself into her, without asking, from behind. But he’s careful not to press against her. Some part of him is embarrassed she knows he wants her this badly. So he reaches around her, determined to complete the task at hand. Braces himself with one hand on her thigh and the other reaching out with the razor to trace the long curve of her calf; the lubricating bar leaves a watery streak of white that clouds and rinses off in little rivers down her hamstring. The girl backs into him, completely this time, pinning him against her butt. "Holy shit you’re excited," she breathes, bending over so he can see himself sliding vertically between her buttocks. (She knows he likes watching.) "You’re so big." Yes, he is. But he worries she says that just because flattery’s proper etiquette—maybe she’s been with someone better. Bigger. More impressive. (Even as this train of thought flashes through him, he knows it’s petty. Ridiculous even. But he can’t help it.) But holy shit is right; he’s so turned on. From the shower or the intimacy of the shaving or free nude pics of amateurs just the closeness. From the lingering memory of her mouth on him in bed, moments before. He reaches a hand between her legs from behind, runs a finger between her labia, his knuckle dipping shallowly into her. A sharp intake of breath. "Not yet," she says because it’s part of the game—something she’s supposed to say. "Finish my legs." She reaches between them and grips his cock, stroking the full length as warm water drips between their bodies. Fuck me, she thinks. Fuck me. She won’t say it. Fuck me. He grabs her wrists, walks her toward the wall, angling her forward. The yellow tiles are sweaty, slippery. Her hands go here. (There are cracks in the grout.) She spreads out her fingers, palms flat against the wall. Angles herself so he has the best view, the easiest access. Neither speaks. Suddenly, he is in her. This moment, every single time like the first. Holy shit. She wants to scream: fuckfuckfuckyesfuckyesFUCK. How to describe it, how to say the way it feels to have this person you think you love inside your body, opening you up? (You feel yourself spreading open for him, clenching around him, your muscles acting without instruction, trying to get him deeper. To fill your whole body with this boy. This man.) There are no words, no thoughts. Her sounds are primal, growling and long as he presses into her. Short, sharp, high pitched as he speeds up. His breathing is ragged. The water makes them slippery; their bodies slap together, flesh on flesh. Good sounds. They make karup girls love against the shower wall, his hands exploring her. Her body’s unmapped islands are found, his claim is staked. His hand between her legs as the entire length of him fills her and then retreats, fills her again. She bites her lip, moans. Cannot speak. She comes first, nearly falling out of the shower, then turns. Takes him in her mouth again because he doesn’t have a condom. She finishes him this way, in her mouth, backing his tight ass into the corner and making his knees go weak with her pouty lips, her perfect tongue, her pale back spread out before him. He finishes with a gasp, and she swallows all of him. They kiss; she smiles and steps out, leaving him in the shower. It’s minutes before he can move. oldstoriesofmine