Welcome to EPFP Art & Photography

When we lived in Sydney many years ago we were very friendly with a couple named Bob and Joanne. We socialised together and often went camping. Both couples had small children and when we camped we nearly always went nude if it was possible. We never had any sexual activity between us but we still had a lot of fun. Well, not until....

 

It was the occasion Bob was going to take us to a place we had not been to before, but the day before we left one of his kids broke his ankle and we thought it was all off. Jo said that she would stay home with all of the kids so that the three adults could check out the camp site and have a few drinks without worrying about the kids.

We set off in the morning and arrived at a great and very secluded camp site by lunch time. It was warm so we had a swim before setting up the tents etc. It was natural for us to skinny dip as we did it all the time when we were all together and we had a lot of fun cooling off in the water. After our swim we started to set up the tents without bothering to get dress, I noticed after a while that Bob’s cock was not as flaccid as it might be, he was not erect but was a long way from being flaccid. No doubt seeing Fran naked and bending over etc without his wife around was having an effect. I said to Bob that he may as well sleep in our tent to save setting up his tent for just one person and he readily agreed. The rest of the day was normal, we swam and had dinner etc and went to bed about nine pm. We had shared a couple of bottles of wine as well as a few glasses of port and were all in a very happy state.

When we got into the tent we settled down for the night it was soon clear that Fran was very aroused and needed something. As soon as we thought Bob was asleep we started fondling etc and my cock was instantly erect as it had been half erect all afternoon. Fran was soon sucking my cock while I played with her nipples and pussy. Bob was lying half on his side facing us and it was not long before we noticed his very erect penis although his eyes still appeared to be closed. By this time Fran and I did not care if Bob was awake or not, if he wanted a show he was going to get one and his very erect cock told us that it was not a problem for him. Before long we were in a 69 position and then screwing and really getting turned on. By now Bob had given up pretending to be asleep and was stroking his cock while he watched us. At one stage I was on my back with Fran straddling me, I was right beside Bob and soon noticed Fran had her hand on Bobs cock and was helping him stroke it. This turned me on enormously and I climaxed almost straight away. Fran got off me and started masturbating Bob but then also started to suck him and next thing Bob was on top of her with his cock buried in her pussy. They fucked for ages while I watched then Bob and I took it in turns and Fran spent the rest of the night with at least one cock in her.
Next day we were buggered to say the least but until mid day when we had to leave Fran was the centre of attention. She spent ages sucking Bob and he had his cock in her every chance he got. I love just watching and every now and then I would help Bob fuck her. We packed up and went home without a word said about what happened.

On a few occasions later on we had a threesome with Bob but the first one was always the best. Bob later admitted that he had always thought Fran was very sexy but never dreamed he would get the chance to find out just how hot she was.

 

Some might have called Natasha and Paul a mismatched couple. She was a few years older than him, the house was in her families name, and he was still finishing his graduate studies. They also didn't seem to share a lot of common interests. But among their circles of friends, they were considered about as happy and close as a couple could be, and had lived together for a few years now. Perhaps it was the fact they allowed each other enough room to pursue their individual hobbies, best exemplified on Sundays when he would spend most of the day in the living room, while she would be in the basement, specifically furnished to her needs.

 

Although she'd always been a fan of dance, she never got the chance to study it as a child, so she was delighted to find that ballet was offered as an adult-learner class at the local community centre. Natasha enjoyed it immensely, and would spend part of her Sunday afternoons training her skills. Paul had installed a long wooden barre for her along one wall, though he himself found the whole thing terribly boring, and often said so. This surprised Natasha as Paul had studied Ballet in school before moving into Uni. Thus, it was a bit of a surprise when he came down the steps into her little mini-studio.

 

"Well, hello stranger," Natasha said.

 

"Just wanted to see what you were up to," he said casually, sitting down on a nearby chair.

 

"Either that or the TV cable's out."

 

Paul's sheepish smile told her she was right. Natasha was dressed in her usual practice clothes; a long sleeved black leotard, white tights, and ordinary soft leather ballet shoes. Her shoulder length brown hair was tied back in a short ponytail. It was all a little different than what Paul was used to seeing. Most days Natasha preferred simple dresses with low hemlines, which while quite elegant, disguised much of her lean, shapely figure.

 

"So, what sort of strange things do you get up to when you're down here all alone?"

 

Natasha laughed. "You really don't get it, do you? Why do you find ballet so uninteresting? You quite good at it. What is there not to like?"

 

Paul resettled his narrow-rimmed glasses, trying to think of a diplomatic answer. "Well, I'm not a fan of classical music for a start."

 

"Ok, so, there's not any playing right now. What else?"

 

"And, um, well, it seems an unusual way to tell a story. Even opera has dialogue at least. And, um.."

 

Natasha smiled, arms folded across her chest. "I think I know what the problem is. You've got in your head that there's only one way you're meant to watch it, that it's supposed to be some austere high-class art form. Let me try and see if I can present it to you in a somewhat different way..."

 

Natasha came to stand in the middle of the hardwood floor, facing him directly, her one foot placed before the other in the '5th position'. She made a sweeping gesture in front of her, demonstrating the straight line she was making with her body.

 

"Right. Now, picture this as a stage during an average production. What do you see?"

 

"Um, you?"

 

Natasha smiled. "Yes, well, of course I expect to be the centre of your attention, but I meant generally."

 

Paul shrugged. "Well, I guess there'd be a whole lot of other people up there with you. There's usually a lot more women in these things than men, right?"

 

Natasha nodded, gradually moving herself into an elegant 'arabesque', leaning forward toward him on one leg, turned in such a way so he could get a good look at how the other stretched out behind her, her arms making a diagonal line to the position of her body.

 

"Now, what would you say that these women all have in common?"

 

Paul sat forward in his chair. It was hard not to notice the sweep and shape of her figure in this posture, especially her long beautiful legs. "I guess they're all thin, attractive, young..."

 

"Ah, but not just thin, but strong, very fit," Natasha added. She shifted now into an 'attitude', straightening her torso while crooking her right leg behind her in a particular way, one arm raised in an arch above her head. In this half profile, Paul could see the shape of Natasha's small but perfectly formed breasts outlined through the tight black leotard. "In fact, you could say they represent a kind of paradigm of feminine beauty."

 

"Wait a minute," Paul interjected, trying to cover up his growing arousal. "Are you saying the reason I should watch ballet is to ogle women?"

 

"You say that like it's a terrible thing," Natasha laughed, relaxing back into her original '5th position'. "Not too long ago it was one of the few socially accepted places you could. Picture yourself back another century of so. Women were wearing these huge dresses, with crinoline and bustles and who knows what all, and it was considered a scandal to show even a glimpse of ankle. But, if you were to go to the ballet, you'd find that the dancers then were pretty much dressed as you see them now. So, why not admire the women? A lot of classical art is a celebration of the female form. How many paintings or sculptures of nude women have you seen, hmm? And I promise you there isn't one woman on stage who would take offence if you thought they were pretty hot."

 

Natasha could tell Paul was still rather dubious, but she could also see that her little display had some effect on him, at least as far as the bulge in his jeans was concerned. Stepping forward, she slunk around the back of the chair, draping an arm across his shoulders.

 

"It's all right. It doesn't matter," she bent down, murmuring into his ear, "just as long as there is one dancer in particular you keep lusting after."

 

She ran a long finger across his lips in a mock kiss, then deftly slid herself back in front of him, dropping so that she was kneeling between his legs. Paul looked down at her with a certain degree of astonishment, her hands running purposefully over his thighs, her head resting against one knee.

 

"Is this normal behaviour for a 'paradigm of feminine beauty'?"

 

Natasha simply smiled, the palm of one hand pressing firmly against his manhood through his clothes. There was something incongruously innocent yet sexy about the way she looked, huddled at the feet of the chair in her tight black leotard, her legs folded beneath her in those white tights and ballet shoes. As she undid the snap and pulled down the fly of this jeans, she was suddenly overcome by a fit of giggles.

 

"What's the matter?"

 

"Nothing, sorry," she apologized, "I was just thinking of what some of the other dancers were telling me. Some of them will wear their ballet shoes during sex because their boyfriends are really into the whole thing, not to mention even kinkier stuff. I never thought I'd be doing something like that for you."

 

Paul didn't see fit to argue the point. Now that she'd extracted his fully stiff organ, gently massaging it's length in her elegant fingers, he figured she could wear whatever she wanted. He was used to her being a little sexually aggressive at times, but this was all a little forward even for her. He unconsciously shuffled closer to the edge of the chair, allowing Natasha to pull his pants down further, now able to tease and play with his testicles as well. She looked up into his eyes with a cunning grin on her lips, which were now only a hairs-breadth away from the tip of his cock.

 

"I wonder if there's anything more I can do to make ballet a little more enjoyable for you."

 

"I can think of one thing..."

 

 

The moment her lips touched the surface of his cock he let out a small moan. Natasha never broke eye contact with Paul was she took him inside her mouth, teasing the end of his glans with her tongue, watching his every reaction. Paul didn't have a great deal of sexual experience before meeting Natasha, but he doubted there was any woman on earth who could do to him what she could. Reaching down, he gently stroked her chestnut brown hair, tied back as it was away from her face. He wished he had the wit to say something appropriate at these moments, but all he could do was sit with increasing rigidity as she pleasured him, all the affection he had for her communicated by his touch on her hair.

 

Natasha withdrew just in time to see the first drop of pre-cum fluid emerge from the tip of his penis.

 

"Someone is rather excited I see," she teased, smearing it all around his glans with her thumb.

 

"Hmm," he groaned.

 

"Come on, time for a pas-de-deux." She grabbed his arm and pulled them both to their feet.

 

Kicking off his jeans, he helped her take off his shirt while they exchanged quick passionate kisses. Back pedalling, she led them to the centre of the floor, he naked while she remained clad in her full practice gear. He couldn't remember the last time they'd played around like this outside of the bedroom.

 

"You're still dressed," he remarked.

 

"I know. I like it." She twisted in his arms, her back to his chest. He kissed her hotly on the neck, one hand sliding under the front of her leotard to hold onto her naked breast. She could feel his erection pressing against her buttocks as they embraced. She never felt more beautiful than at this moment, the dancer and her paramour, together on their own private stage.

 

"Touch me lower," she whispered, guiding his other hand down to the junction of her thighs. He cupped her pubis with his palm, rhythmically pressing and rubbing it through her clothes. Now it was her turn to moan as he pulled aside the crotch of her leotard, teasing her bare cunt through the sheer fabric of her white tights.

 

"You're not wearing any underwear," he observed, his voice tight with his own excitement.

 

"Of course," she giggled.

 

"I can feel how wet you are," he said breathlessly, the smear of moisture growing on the crotch of her tights as he continued stroking against her labia.

 

Rub me right there," Natasha instructed, putting one hand over his, moving his fingers over her clit. "I want to come just like this at least once."

 

"Are you serious?"

 

"Please." With one arm wrapped around her torso for support, he fingered her with as much verve and skill as he could muster. Natasha's head tilted back against his shoulder as her arousal mounted. The texture of her tights was slightly rough against her sensitive clit, but at the moment she didn't care, it felt too good to make him stop. "Keep going, I can feel it coming."

 

Natasha pressed back hard against Paul, her knees growing weak. For a second he thought he might come himself just from having his erection pressed between his body and her leotard covered ass. Stifling an incoherent whimper, she went rigid in his arms, her orgasm throbbing through her.

 

"I wish we had a mirror, I'd love to see how I look," she breathed, coming down from her peak. "You look beautiful."

 

Turning around, she kissed him, her hand automatically gravitating to his cock. The poor boy must have been getting desperate by now, she could practically feel it jump a little with every heartbeat.

 

"Help me take my top down," she said, pulling an arm free from her leotard. He did the same for the other, pulling the tight garment down to around her waist, exposing her small round breasts. He bent down to take one into his mouth, gently suckling at it while he fondled the other. She always felt warm and sexy whenever he paid attention to her breasts like that, but they were both pretty much beyond the point of foreplay by now.

 

"Come on, let's go over to the barre."

 

Her back pressed against the long wooden rail, she laid her hands lightly on it's smooth surface while he pulled her leotard and the elastic top of her tights down over her hips. Running his hand over her neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair, he played and teased around the outside of her eager pussy. Giving him one last kiss, he turned her back to him again, bending over, her hands braced firmly on the barre. She looked back over her shoulder with a meaningful stare, and he needed no further invitation.

 

They had made love with him coming from behind before, but never standing up, and certainly not with her still half dressed. With her tangled leotard and the top of her tights just below the line of her buttocks, her taut legs remained sheathed in white, her feet balanced on her toes in those pink ballet shoes, just waiting for him to take her. He couldn't remember her ever looking so erotic.

 

Without a further word, he placed one hand on her bare hip while lining up his cock with the ruffled folds of her labia. Holding his breath, he found the pliant opening of her vagina and pushed inside. Usually too embarrassed to allow herself to be very vocal during sex, she now gave an ungainly grunt as she felt him fill her up with his hard member. Hands tightly clenched onto the barre, she pushed back against his initial thrust, taking him as deep as possible. Paul was afraid he wouldn't last too long, so the tried to take it easy, thrusting slowly and deliberately.

 

This self restraint became impossible as Natasha continued to push back against him with her body, her efforts punctuated by strained little groans. Putting both hands on her hips, he let himself go completely, jabbing with short fast strokes. Face locked in a ecstatic grimace, it was his turn to groan as the first twitch of ejaculation thrilled through him, his cock throbbing in orgasm as his seed spilled into her warm tender insides.

 

In the aftermath of the moment, Paul bent down to place a kiss on Natasha's back, his gradually softening member slipping wetly out of her cunt. Her skin still rather flushed from the experience, she straightened up, finally able to catch her breath. Reaching between her legs she could feel the sodden mess it had become down there.

 

"Oh, boy," she said, her voice still a little unsteady. "I really could use a shower."

 

"Hope you don't mind if I join you."

 

"Wouldn't have it any other way." They shared a long lingering kiss. "Can you help me take off my clothes?"

 

Kneeling down, Paul pulled her tights to just past her knees, while she kept a hand cupped around her cunt to keep from dripping onto the hardwood floor.

 

"So, what do you say," she asked, raising each foot in turn so he could untie and slip off her shoes. "Have I changed your mind about ballet at all?"

 

"I don't know about that," he replied honestly, "but I sure wouldn't mind seeing another of your Sunday matinee performances some time."

 

Natasha gave an appreciative laugh. Her ballet gear now in a small heap on the floor, the two naked lovers left their private stage, the metaphorical curtain closing on this intimate episode.

 

Paul

 

I have danced with a small group of girls for 4 years now. I am 31 and have danced Ballet since I was 11 years old at school. All the girls in my troupe are younger than me. One is 19, another 22, another 23 and the oldest is my wife Natasha, who is 28. Natasha teaches classical Ballet in a local dance school and is where she “discovered” all our members. We are all classically trained in Ballet, the difference is we all dance nude. We consider it a form of ballet, abate a modern avant-garde dance anyway.

 

 

We are all very good friends and coordinate our dance moves with grace, speed, positioning and sexuality. The girls are all so young and love being nude all the time at our rehearsal hall. The dance steps and choreography is arranged, but everything else is our own input. All of us enjoy being nude with each other and dancing or trying out new arrangements. I am usually dancing with all 4 girls depending on the final version. Yes, I am erect much of the time...we touch, my chest up against their breasts, my penis hitting their bodies and rubbing up against them. Sometimes unintentionally touching in intimate places. It can't be helped. as we are up down on level ground, jumping and holding on to one another all the time. We feel the nudity is what makes our small group so interesting and exciting to choreograph. Touching anywhere and doing pranks are fine and add to the creative process. The girls are very inventive. You'd be surprised with the ideas they come up with and how their eyes light up when we try things. I am constantly amazed at how they manage to get their bodies into amazing poses. We have fun sometimes during our practice performances with mimicking Indian sex sculptures and yoga positions.

 

Natasha is not at all jealous of her fellow dancers as you might expect. In fact I think she delights in seeing them with me knowing they can't have me. I'm quite well endowed and the girls are always making passes at me. But I'm faithful to Natasha.

 

 

Paul.

 

A few years ago my job took me to Athens, Greece. It was a short trip-only six days-but the month was May and since all my recent excursions had been in the dead of winter I was really looking forward to this.

When I got out of the airport that Tuesday afternoon I was greeted by a brilliant blue sky and a hot gust of wind off the azure Mediterranean-ideal material to get my juices flowing. But that was not all. By the time the taxi had dropped me at my little hotel in a crowded back street I had discovered to my delight that the fashion there was for nearly all the young girls to wear low-cut, tight hip-hugging jeans and little cut-off t-shirts that came to just under the breasts and then stopped. Bare midriffs and bellybuttons were just everywhere!

When I got up to my third-floor room I dumped my luggage by the bed and looked around. The room had a big picture window along one side. The glass extended floor to ceiling, but only the top part could slide open. I switched on the central air-conditioner and left the window shut. Then I glanced out the window. Wow! The streets were all narrow and we had buildings right across the street, maybe four or five meters (yards) away. All the curtains looked closed over there and it was still light out so I couldn’t tell what the “view” would be like. “Anyhow, the view on the street’s not half bad,” I thought to myself and headed out.

After wandering the streets to get my bearings, I decided that, to take in the sights, I should eat supper that evening at a roadside café. That was a stroke of outstanding luck because, right when I was ready for dessert, an evening school let out just up the street. Crowds of girls, I’d say 16 to 18 years old passed by for the next twenty minutes-slim, bare waists and features like Greek goddesses on most every one of them. Some even wore shorts!

Feeling pretty good already, I bought a bottle of wine and headed back to my room to go over some papers I’d need for the next day’s interviews. The heat made me choke as I opened the door. A call to the front desk revealed that since it was still May, not yet officially summer, the air-conditioning was not yet turned on in the building. I pulled back the heavy curtains and unlocked and slid open the big picture window. The window in the building across the street was was still dark although other rooms revealed it to be some family’s apartment.

I felt a slight breeze but my room was stifling and the street outside was still full of city noises. I stripped to my underwear, poured myself a glass of wine and plopped down in a chair by the window to study my work.

Around midnight I happened to look out the window. A light was now on in that opposite window and since it was just slightly below the level of my floor, I had an ideal view of the interior. There sat a slim brown-haired girl dressed in a short lace nightgown and robe.

She was seated at her dressing table brushing her hair. Her long, tan, shapely legs gleamed in the half light by the dresser. She was in her late teens or early twenties and she had an outstanding figure.

She was obviously suffering from the heat too because her window was open and she occasionally fanned herself with a bit of paper. I watched as she got up walked to the window and looked out. Pretending to concentrate on my work, I watched her lean out the window and examine the sights on our side of the street. I know I was among them and I wished then that I had just got naked rather than kept my boxers on. Still I got some sort of rush.

Eventually she turned back to her dresser. She pulled off her robe, revealing outrageously sexy shoulders and a low cut lace nightgown that betrayed more than a hint of what treasures lay underneath.

There were to be no treasures for me that night though. Still dressed in her nightgown, she slipped into her bed just behind the window, reached over and turned off her light.

Ok, I hadn’t seem much, but I was hot and my penis was straining at my boxers. With no look out the window and still pretending to be engrossed in my work papers, I pulled off my shorts, crossed the room, retrieved my wine bottle and poured myself another glass. Then I went back to my papers, making sure that my nudity would be visible across the street. But, in the darkness there, was she watching?

The next day I was busy. I still enjoyed the Athenian “sights” as I walked and rode here and there. I can’t say I had forgot the girl across the street, but I wasn’t really expecting anything different tonight so I didn’t think about her much during the day.

I had supper in the same restaurant, and caught the same “show” as the night before as the girls got out of class and paraded past us.

Back in the room, though, it was a long time before the light in the window across the street came on. It was still hot so I stripped nude and sat in my usual spot by the window. Finally, about half-past-eleven the light flashed on revealing the brown-haired girl dressed in a towel drying her hair at her dresser. Her towel opened on the side and revealed a lot more of her than I had seen the night before-her side all the way down from under her breasts.

Next she walked over to her wardrobe, further back in the room, and opened the door. The open wardrobe door covered her but I knew she was changing as her towel flew up over the open door of the wardrobe. She emerged wearing the same short, lace nightgown as the night before. Again she jumped into bed but this time, instead of turning out the light, she picked up a telephone next to the light and began talking happily to someone. Her nightgown was pretty low cut and it was of some light material. Whenever she laughed or giggled her breasts jiggled through the cloth. She seemed to be getting hotter and hotter as she talked, pulling meanwhile at her clothes, now revealing this, now that little bit of exquisitely tanned skin.

I still pretended that I had never noticed her window and only looked at her furtively or over the top of my papers. She didn’t make any overt sign that she had seen me, either, although I thought I noticed her cast sidelong glances my way, every now and then.

After about half an hour she hung up the phone, got up out of bed, walked over to her dresser, reached down and pulled her nightgown off over her head, revealing an exquisite body, beautifully erect breasts and slim but shapely thighs. Wearing only some thong panties she neatly draped the nightgown over the back of her chair and then rushed, covering her wobbling breasts with her arms, back to the safety of the bed. Then the light went out.

That was too much. I was nude and I couldn’t resist grabbing my swollen, throbbing dick and massaging it almost to climax. Before I came, however, I got up and flicked off the light switch. I didn’t want to shock the girl and at the same time wanted to give her a little of her own medicine.

The next day, Thursday, I could hardly think of anything but the evening show across the street. The street sights, even the evening school girls paled into insignificance as I looked forward to that night. Back in my room I turned on the light, pulled off my clothes, opened my briefcase, took out some papers, poured myself a glass of wine and sat down to wait for the show.

Nothing happened. Midnight passed, then one am. No light in the window, no girl by the dresser. Frustrated and disappointed, I wondered if I had gone “too far.”

Friday night was the same-darkness and no girl. I was leaving Sunday morning, so I pretty much gave up on the evening show. “Well, it was nice while it lasted,” I tried to be philosophical.

Saturday night I packed up my stuff to get ready for the next day’s flight out. To cool off I took a shower. Just for “old time’s sake” and because there wasn’t much else to do, I stayed naked, sat down by the window and poured myself a drink.

Then it happened! The light in her apartment flashed on and in walked “my” brown-haired girl together with three of her friends, one blonde and skinny, a girl with shoulder-length black hair, and a chick with wavy brown hair so long it came to her butt. They were all wearing tight jeans and cut-off shirts and all carrying backpacks. “So they’ve been off camping or something,” I thought. “I bet they’re fun around a camp-fire!”

They obviously had a lot of fun together because the brown-haired girl had to keep indicating to them to quiet down. They produced three bottles of wine and began drinking pretty fast, obviously “losing it” as they increasingly spilled on the tile floor of the room.

They were enjoying themselves and paid no attention to the window, even when the hostess went over and opened it. I was pretty sure I caught her glancing up at naked me (still pretending not to notice) and giving a slight smile.

It was late but they weren’t exactly settling down. Finally, they all gathered in a circle on the floor and began playing cards. At first I thought they were all just tired and hot from their trekking as, one by one, they took off their boots and socks. But soon those were followed by their little t-shirts. It began to dawn on me that the brown-haired girl was treating me to a game of voyeur strip poker!

After losing their jeans, we were getting down to the real thing and my hand just could not keep off my male member. The blonde girl’s bra came off first, revealing petite, springy breasts with pale pink nipples and tan lines that showed she favoured string-type bikinis. The girl with the long hair lost her bra next, but it was a while before I could see much of her breasts since they had to emerge through her curly locks. When they did reveal themselves I saw two beautifully shaped tanned tits with large nipples. “My” girl was the next to go topless. She did it with flair, though, standing up and doing a little dance after which she flung her bra across the room and jiggled her pert breasts in the direction of her friends (and, unknown to them) at me (where I was sitting nude, with the light on and stroking away at my dick!)

The girl with the black hair dropped her bra next with no particular flair but no apparent embarrassment either. “She’s probably done this before,” I thought, noticing that her deep tan was absolutely even all over her breasts.

Amid great commotion, the same girl with black hair next slipped out of her panties, (revealing that her tan was even all over). Then the other girls, with lots of suppressed laughter, pulled off their panties too, gathered them together, ran over to the window and tossed them out.

I froze in “mid-pump” knowing that it would be almost impossible for them not to see me across the way with the light on, naked and masturbating at them.

Just to make sure they did notice, I saw the brown-haired girl nudge her friends and point in my direction. At first they were mad at their friend, lightly slapping at her, but pretty quickly the slapping turned into a show for me as they shook themselves, and blew kisses in my direction. One of them yelled something, only to be shushed by the hostess whose family was in the next room, after all.

Pretty soon the girls dressed (without panties) picked up their back packs and left. After seeing her friends to the door, the brown-haired girl came back to her room and immediately slipped out of all her clothes, now with no sign of the modesty that she’d shown a couple of nights before. With the light still on and her eyes focussed on my cock, she sat on the edge of her bed, spread her bronzed legs and began massaging her clean-shaven cunt. Before long she was groaning and arching her back in pleasure as my throbbing penis neared climax in my hot hand. As I watched, she shuddered and let loose some quiet cries of pleasure as she came repeatedly. Flopping backwards onto her bed she could still watch as my own wave of pleasure washed over me and I shot my pent-up seed through the open window and down into the empty street below.