Adrienne Bailon Nude

Apparently Disney's 'Cheetah Girl' has lived up to her boyfriend's (Robert Kardashian) family name and leaked nude pictures of herself on the 'net.

The First Adventure Part Two

Hubby gazed into my eyes with a sexy intensity.

“You’re going to go next door,” he growled huskily, “and give Laurent the blowjob of his life.”

I froze. My eyes widened.

“We’ve been talking about it for months,” Hubby growled. “I told you I wanted to see you suck another man’s cock. And after what you did…” He was referring, of course, to my encounter with Darren in that hotel room in Birmingham. “You owe me.”

I was conflicted. Right then and there, I knew, was the tipping point between continuing my abortive project to be a sexual submissive and just throwing in the towel. I was annoyed and disgusted with Hubby for hitting me with this demand right out of the blue.

But, don’t you know it? I was also wet.

I mean, Laurent was a great looking guy. And sexy. And I wouldn’t have gone along with Hubby’s filthy talk and submissive sex games if I hadn’t ever considered this sort of thing a possibility, right? In fact, I’d even been angry and disappointed at him for going on about ‘sharing’ me and never actually having the wherewithal to set anything up!

So fighting every instinct to say ‘no,’ I bit my bottom lip and made a conscious decision to do this thing.

Hubby grabbed the whiskey. I got the After Eights. And with butterflies in my stomach, I shuffled back into the living room.

Laurent was just sitting there, idly sipping his wine. He looked prissy and neat and twee. It occurred to me that he might have no idea about Hubby’s scheme and when I suddenly accosted him, he’d be horrified. I could just imagine the shock of a fat, pregnant wife and a creepy English husband sexually harassing him.

But Laurent’s eyes lit up when he saw the collar around my neck. I realized Hubby must have told him about his plans.

Hubby – I mean Master – wrenched me to a halt. He made me stand in front of Laurent in my jeans and sweatshirt.

“Stay there.”

Taking the box of After Eights, he flopped down into the armchair and poured two generous glasses of whiskey. He passed one to Laurent.

“Okay, my sexy little slut,” Hubby purred at me, peering up from his chair. “Take off your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me.”

Eyes flicking between Laurent and my husband, I nodded.

Grabbing the hem of my sweatshirt, I pulled it over my head and threw it to the floor. I was wearing a t-shirt underneath. I left that on as I pulled off my trainers and socks and threw them across the room (since I was worried they’d be smelly!)

I stood there in my big, unsexy cotton panties and t-shirt. My bulging belly… Well, bulged. And my big tits were squeezed into my ill-fitting bra.

But as unsexy as I felt, the appreciative (hungry?) eyes of Laurent and Master clearly proved that they found me rather appetizing.

I grabbed the t-shirt and pulled it off. Then I stood there in my big knickers and bulging bra.

Hubby’s voice was hoarse. “Take off the bra.”

I unclasped the front and slowly pulled the two cups apart. My big, swollen breasts flopped out.

Laurent gasped.

“Turn around,” Hubby ordered. Nervously, I did as I was told. “Now bend over.”

Bent at the waist, my big arse in his face, I dug my thumbs into the waistband of my knickers and slowly wriggled them over my hips. Then my thighs. Then they dropped to my ankles.

“Putain…” Laurent breathed, staring into my round bum and hairy pussy.

I straightened up and turned around, peering down at Laurent, focusing entirely on him. I knew Hubby was watching, but it was this intense Frenchman who I was performing for and now I’d got into the spirit of things, I was wildly excited at the task Hubby had assigned me.

“You are beautiful,” Laurent purred.

My pussy gushed. I wish I’d have known about this! I’d have shaven it!

Dropping to my knees, I reached forward and placed my hot hands on the rough material of his jeans. I could see a bulge in the front of his flies.

My hands slid up, by thumbs tracing a path along his inner thighs.

My mouth was dry (the last thing I needed, given what I was about to do.)

Fingers trembling, I unbuckled his belt and popped the buttons of his flies.

Laurent just sat there, his breath deepening.

Pulling apart his flies, I saw the sheen of his tight boxers.

My fingers curled around the waistband of his jeans.

Then, with a sharp tug, I wrenched them and his boxers down around his knees.

Boing! From a nest of busy, black pubic hair sprung a long, thick, uncircumcised penis.

It smelt musky. It was dark – olive coloured, like Laurent’s skin.

My fingers touched the bare flesh of his thighs. He gasped.

I slid my hands up his thighs, feeling the bristly black hair against my palm. Then my fingers reached his hairy balls.

I turned to Hubby, looking for approval. The lusty look on my husband’s face reassured me that he was totally lapping up every moment of this.

My fingers tickled Laurent’s balls.

“Merde,” he gasped, reaching a hand up the run it through my hair. “That feels wonderful.”

The fingers of my other hand encircled his shaft. I pumped his cock for a few minutes, feeling the warm firmness throb in my hand.

Then, licking my lips, I lowered my head.

His musky scent engulfed my nostrils, just as my open lips engulfed his cock.

“Fils de Pute,” he gasped, jerking his hips upwards, jabbing his dick further into my mouth.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the strange sensation of a stranger’s dick in my mouth.

My tongue swirled. Saliva dribbled down Laurent’s balls. My fingers pumped his shaft as I lifted my mouth from his cock and replaced my sucking with firm, long licks. Up and down the shaft. Across the wrinkled skin of his balls. Pulling down his foreskin, I lapped at his swollen, purple cockhead like a kitten drinking milk.

“Uhhhh,” Laurent’s fingers curled into my hair, forcing my mouth back over his cockhead. A sharp tug of my black hair brought tears to my eyes.

There was the rustle of cloth. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear Hubby slide off his chair and come crawling up behind me.

His hot hands cupped my buttocks, spreading my thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, trying to process the dual sensations of Laurent’s throbbing hardness in my mouth and Hubby’s rough hands on my naked arse.

My head was bobbing up and down. Laurent’s thick cock was slurping wetly in and out of my suctioning lips. My tongue was swirling as if I was sucking a delicious ice-lolly.

I groaned hotly around the meat in my mouth. I’d just felt Hubby’s fingers part the hair lips of my pussy and slide inside my sodden cunt.

And I was sodden. Absolutely dripping.

“Mon dieu,” Laurent groaned hotly. “I’m going to cum…”

With Hubby’s slick thumb circling my thrumming clit and his fat fingers massaging my g-spot, I knew I wasn’t far behind.

I squeezed Laurent’s tight balls. I bobbed my head faster, up and down, feeling him lift his hips from the sofa to sink his cock deeper into my mouth.

I squeezed my thighs together. I came.

Clenching down hard on Hubby’s fingers, I felt my clit explode. The waves of shuddering pleasure forced a guttural groan which opened up my throat, letting Laurent sink inside my mouth up to the balls.

I couldn’t breath. My throat bulged. His hands held my head down, my mouth impaled by his dick.

I think I would have passed out if it wasn’t for Hubby’s fingers hammering between by sticky thighs – driving my orgasm harder and harder. I coughed and spluttered and groaned and choked and Laurent ignored it all as he forcefully fucked my mouth and spurted salty wetness across my tongue.

The Frenchman kept my head held down hard, forcing my to swallow the mouthful of cum. Only after my throat bulged and I gulped down his seed did he let me up. My mouth detached wetly from his limp cock, great, sticky strands of saliva and cum stretching from his flesh to my lips.

Laurent lay back on the sofa, gasping for air. He smiled.

I wiped my wet lips and chin with the back of my hand.

“That,” said Hubby, still knelt behind me with his fingers buried deep within my cunt, “was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

How I've Spent the Last six Months Part Four

As I drove up to that sales conference, Darren sitting silently in my passenger seat, I’d never been more furious in my life.

My husband! The fucking rat! Screwing some WHORE, no less. Was he using a condom? I guess it didn’t matter. He and I hadn’t so much as kissed in weeks so I didn't need to worry about his skanky slut giving ME an infection through him. But I was determined that as soon as I returned I was going to kick that fucker out of my life for good.

Now the sales conference was a nightmare.

It was long and it was hot and the conference hall didn’t even have air conditioning. Darren was like a little kid, far too scared to talk to me about anything. Not that I could concentrate! While some stupid ‘sales guru’ they’d flown in from America was up on stage talking about ‘closing’ and fear of loss,’ I was imagining what my Hubby’s prostitute looked like.

Was she younger than me? Was she prettier than me? I mean, I’m a good looking woman and I couldn’t imagine anybody really pretty would become a prostitute. But maybe she was desperate. Maybe she was on drugs or something. Shit! Maybe my husband was having sex with a junkie every weekend!

My day got even worse when it came to my presentation. Fucking stupid little Darren had one thing to remember – one fucking thing – and he forgot to bring it. I didn’t have the CD with my sales presentation on. So I had to stand in front of a room of a hundred of my peers and rattle off some crappy presentation from memory, with no charts or figures or graphs to guide me. I must have looked like a total idiot. The tepid applause when I’d finished pretty much confirmed that my speech had failed to impress.

By the time the conference wound up for the evening, I went to the hotel bar and ordered a bottle of chardonnay and started working hard to finish it.

I’d done quite well – probably about three quarters of the way down – when Darren slunk up to me like a naughty puppy. Fucking expense account bullshit meant we had to have dinner together, so there I was, pissed off and half drunk and sitting in a cheap hotel’s restaurant struggling with overpriced and undercooked chicken.

Now I have two small problems when I’m angry. I get bossy and bitchy and I get extremely horny. The alcohol wasn’t exactly helping, either. So I ate my dinner and glowered at Darren and I started thinking really dodgy things.

You see, my opinion of Darren had somewhat changed that day. When I’d first met him, I’d thought he was a cocky, arrogant little prick and cut him down to size. But now, since I’d already terrified him into submission, he’d basically become as docile and pathetic as a puppy. Add to that the fact he’d fucked up my presentation and the little dick was so eager to please it was embarrassing me. He sat down opposite me, nursing a pint of lager and trying to use a knife and fork to eat his hamburger.

I finished off my bottle of wine and moved onto my second and started giving Darren an entirely new appraisal.

He was a kid. A little, nervous, uncertain kid. All that macho blustering bullshit he and Matt had tried when they first arrived was just textbook overcompensation. Darren knew that he was a pretty worthless junior sales exec and not very high on the totem pole. He was looking across the table at me with a mixture of awe and terror.

And I didn’t mind that one little bit. I mean, Darren was actually a good looking kid. He was still slim and fairly muscular. Give him a few years and a few more pints of lager and he’d be chubby and sloppy like most of the sales dickheads at my company, but at the moment he was nice looking. And the smooth chin (I hate stubble) and baby soft skin was attractive. Darren looked clean and neat and malleable and I suddenly started thinking that he might be able to make up for his earlier fuck-up with some other service.

I decided it when he started apologizing for the six millionth time about forgetting the presentation CD.

“If you really want to make it up to me,” I hissed, buoyed by alcohol and horniness, “go upstairs.”

I handed him the key to my room.

“W-what?”

“Go upstairs,” I swigged down half a mouthful of chardonnay. “And I want you naked by the time I get there.”

Now I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. I was drunk, of course. I was also horny and pissed off. My fucking husband was probably in Basingstoke right as we spoke, balls deep in some junkie prostitute. So what I was about to do wasn’t any worse, was it? I mean, at least I wasn’t wasting our money. And at least Darren was clean. I mean, he looked clean. Now I’d got the better of him, I had even started to suspect he was a virgin – or at least pretty inexperienced. And it’s not like I was going to fuck him.

“W-what?” Darren stammered.

“Upstairs,” I ordered. “Now.”

He scurried off like a good little boy.

Which gave me a few leisurely minutes to drain the last of my wine and pay the bill.

As I strode to the lift on my high heels, I was feeling pretty damn good. Warm and buzzying from the wine. My pussy was tingling. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this, but I also couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of doing something like this earlier.

As the lift headed upstairs, I checked out my reflection in the mirror. My hair was in a tight bun, but drunkenness had let a couple of wifts of hair fall down around my face. My suit and skirt were sharp and official looking, but my big boobs and round bottom filled them out nicely. I looked hot, actually.

And that’s what all this was about, I guess. I wanted to feel hot. I wanted to feel like a gorgeous, sexy, desirable woman. My limp little Hubby, wanking away to his internet porn or possibly fucking some diseased prositite, hadn’t made me feel like that for weeks.

I was swaying a bit as I made my way down the corridor, but stood up straight as I pushed open the door to my bedroom.

It was dark. Darren had switched off the overhead light and just kept the bedside ones on. His clothes were in a messy pile on the floor. Darren himself was under the covers in the bed, duvet pulled up to his chin. He looked so meek and helpless, I felt almost motherly.

Although I didn’t sound it.

“Get the fuck out of my bed!” I yelled. “That’s not for you!”

Like a SHOT he was out from under the covers.

And that’s when I saw him naked for the first time. And it wasn’t an unpleasant sight.

Darren was very slim, with pale skin and that slightly lanky build of men in their early twenties who haven’t quite grown out of being teenagers yet. He had a tight little white bottom and a hairless chest. There was some gay looking tribal tattoo on his arm. That, along with his hairless chest and earring and highlighted hair, made him look very gay indeed.

Hanging between Darren’s legs was a fairly nice looking dick. It wasn’t hard – I’d probably got him too scared for that. But it was nice. He looked clean. There’s nothing worse than a young man who’s all stinky and sweaty and greasy when you get him out of his clothes.

I felt delicious. Here I was, with a pretty naked boy in my hotel room. Oh, Hubby, I thought to myself. If only you could see me know. There you go, boasting about wanting other men to fuck me. You fantasy was a hair’s breadth from coming true and you were too blind to see it.

Except, of course, I wasn’t going to fuck Darren. At least, not tonight.

Now if Darren had been nervous before, he was terrified now. There he was, naked as a jay, and I was just staring at him. The poor boy shivered and cupped his privates in his hands.

“You!” I eventually demanded, wondering exactly what it was I was going to do with this pretty plaything now I’d actually got it. “Still want to make it up to me?”

“Y-yes.”

Swaying slightly (either horniness or the wine) I grasped the hem of my skirt and started to wiggle it up over my hips.

Once the pinstripe was bundled up over my waist, I hooked by thumbs into my tights and started to pull them down. I had to kick off my high heels to do it, which spoilt the fantasy a bit, but a moment later I was standing there bare-legged with my pretty little French knickers stretched over my big, round bottom.

“On all fours,” I ordered. And Darren, bless him, hopped down onto his knees and shuffled forward.

I half sat, half fell into the chair in the corner and shuffled my bottom to the edge of the seat. Skirt up around my waist, thighs spread wide, Darren was crawling towards a perfectly unhindered view of my pantie-clad crotch.

Now if I’d known I was going to have some twenty-two year old boy snuffling around my pussy, I’d probably have got her waxed or shaved. As it was, Darren just had to put up with a couple of thick, brown hairs peeking around the corners of my knickers. Not that he seemed to mind.

In fact, as he crawled closer, I could see his cock swelling up quite impressively. Like a long, pale torpedo, it swung back and forth between his legs. I licked my lips.

Darren was on his knees in front of me now, breathing in the musky scent of my cunt. My clit was throbbing, even without being touched. The feel of his hot breath on my thighs was delicious.

“You know what to do,” I ordered, even though I wasn’t entirely sure he did.

His lips started kissing my thighs. His nose was snuffling against my pussy through the soft cotton of my panties. I half closed my eyes and drunkenly surrendered to the sensations.

Darren was clearly inexperienced, but he made up for it in enthusiasm. After slathering my thighs with spit and kisses, he started tugging down my knickers and I lifted my bum off the chair to help him remove them. Then his nose, lips and tongue went right to the ‘hot spot’ and he was literally devouring my pussy.

To be honest, I prefer to be teased a bit first. I almost jumped off my chair when Darren rammed an inch of tongue down my cunt without so much as a by-your-leave. But his enthusiasm was sexy. And the wetness, too! I get pretty wet normally, but Darren was slathering and slobbering down there and it sounded deliciously wet.

To further support my inexperience theory, Darren seemed to be licking, sucking or kissing every single inch of my pussy except my clit. For the briefest of moments, I felt a little disappointed. But then I realized that I was in charge of this situation and, besides, Darren would thank me if I taught him this. So I grabbed his ears and manhandled his head until his tongue was hitting the right spot.

And then?

I just threw my head back, spread my legs wider and enjoyed it.

It was the enthusiasm and energy that was so delicious. It was been over a month since I’d last been eaten out and by that stage in our relationship, Hubby was more or less just going through the motions. Lick, lick, lick. Suck here. Kiss there. Concentrate on the clit for one, two, three minutes until POW! I came in his mouth like an obedient little cunt.

But Darren didn’t know what the fuck he was doing and it made it deliciously unpredictable. My arousal would build and build and then plateau as Darren’s tongue found some other, less satisfying avenue to explore. Then he’d return to the sweet spot and up, up, up my arousal would go.

I was SO wet down there, I must have been making a wet spot on the upholstery. I didn’t mind, though. That’s what hotels are for. Besides, all those secretions and saliva made it deliciously easy for Darren to slid two fingers into my pussy and start pumping.

It was unsatisfactory – I prefer the fingers to stay fucking still, to make me feel full and tickle my g-spot. But the sensation was different.

I gasped and groaned. I popped the buttons of my blouse, squeezing my big breasts. And then, after painful seconds teetering on the brink of it, I came.

My orgasm was shattering. I squeezed Darren’s head between my thighs and didn’t let him breath again until my whole body had stopped bucking and shaking. Then, panting for breath, I kicked him away and felt the cold air conditioning on my wet thighs.

It felt blissful. I had two or three après-orgasm shudders and then just tingled in pleasure. Warm and relaxed and sleepy I wanted nothing more right then than to crawl into bed and go blissfully to sleep.

Disciplinary Proceedings

The Master slave relationship has been going on less that 48 hours, but we already hit a small obstacle.

For the second night, I slept wearing the collar and woke up this morning warm, snug and happy. And immediately Hubby… sorry, Master… shook me awake.

“Today,” he told me, “you will spend the entire day naked.”

“Well, switch the fucking central heating on,” I told him. I was wearing a camisole and thong and I was freezing as it was.

But apparently, dear readers, a snappy comeback is conduct unbecoming of a slave.

“What did you just say?”

I think this was the first test of our Master/Slave relationship and Hubby… sorry, Master… would have blown the whole thing if he’d let me get away with it.

Maybe that’s why I was doing it. I’m a manipulative little bitch sometimes.

Anyway. He didn’t.

I’m proud of him. Master yanked back the covers and I felt the cold chill hit me. We really ought to stop being cheapskates and put the central heating on.

“Okay,” Master said, very firmly. “We better set some ground rules, Slave. From now on, you can keep your smart little asides to yourself, understood?”

I nodded.

“Get your arse out of bed and go and stand by the wall.”

Pouting I did as I was told.

“No,” he snapped. “Over there, by the window.”

I shuffled over to the window.

Master climbed out of bed himself and yanked back the curtains.

Now this I didn’t exactly like, because suddenly I was standing against the window with the entire town able to look in at me.

“Stick your bum out,” Hubby breathed in my ear.

I wiggled my arse, which looked pretty damn sexy in a thong. I jauntily stuck it out at him. And Slap!

His palm made contact against my right arse cheek and the fat jiggled painfully.

I must have leapt forward three inches, my big breasts pressing themselves against the icy glass.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Three times his hand stung my butt cheeks, landing two firm slaps on each buttock. I gripped the window sill, by boobs and cheek pressed against the glass.

“Right then,” Hubby… I mean Master… warned me. “Are you done with the witty jokes?”

I nodded.

“Get out of your clothes.”

“But the window…” I was painfully aware that Mrs Monroe, down in 23, was pottering about in her garden. Nosy old bitch.

Slap!

“Out of them! Now!”

My butt must have been glowing red by this point. Obedinatly I wiggled out of my thong and kicked it aside. I lifted my camisole and by big boobs swung free.

I stood naked by the window, shivering.

“Good,” the was a curiously detached hunger to Master’s voice. “Excellent.”

He kicked aside my ankles, spreading my legs. I moment later, I gasped as I felt his cold fingers reach between my thighs and touch my cunt.

So the rest of the me was fucking freezing, but the spanks and his authoritative voice had made me moist.

His fingers sunk inside me and I moaned, leaning forward until my tits were pressed against the glass again.

I heard the rustling of material as Master yanked down his boxer shorts. Then I felt something hard nose around the entrance to my pussy.

The horny little bastard must have got a hard on spanking me.

Without any foreplay, Hubby guided his knobhead to my moist pussy and pushed. There was a moment’s resistance, but then I opened up and he sunk deep inside of me.

It was rougher and quicker than I liked it, but the urgency was very sexy. I groaned, closing my eyes.

Pressed against the glass, my bum stuck out obscenely, Hubby then proceeded to fuck me, hard and fast.

Although my face was pressed against the glass, I could see Mrs Monroe peeking up at me from her back garden, watching the girl with the big boobs pressed against the glass, he Hubby grunting and thrusting from behind her.

Shocked, she scurried on inside.

Hubby was groaning deeply. His breath was ragged. I knew he was close to cumming, which disappointed me since I think I’d have only been a few minutes behind him.

“Don’t cum in me,” I warned. I’m not on the pill anymore and it’s about the right time of the month to get a neatly knocked up slave instead of just an obedient one.

Slap!

His hand impacted with my thigh. Hot tears spurted out of my eyes and rolled down my cheek.

His breath was hot in my ear: “What have I told you about giving me orders, Slave?”

His cock swelled up inside of me. If he could just hold out a moment or two longer, I was sure I’d be able to ride the coattails and get to cum too.

But, oh shit! I think he was going to cum in me!

I felt my orgasm flowing the wrong way, as the implication of getting knocked up by my Hubby hit me. Oh, sure, it was all fucking sexy while he was pounding the shit out of me with our neighbours watching. But I had a job. I was the breadwinner. I seriously wasn’t ready to get pregnant.

“Don’t,” I warned him. “Don’t cum in me!”

Slap! Slap! Two more stinging handprints on my bum.

He grabbed a big fistful of my hair and yanked my hair back. Then Hubby’s voice was loud in my ear, his rasping breath making my neck wet.

“If I want to cum in you, Slave,” he groaned, just seconds away from cumming, “I will do. And you’ll like it, okay?”

Oh God. My orgasm was back. Just one yank on my hair and my pussy gushed and my clit throbbed. And like that, his swollen dick was rubbing deliciously against my g-spot.

“Okay,” I groaned, just sinking into the moment. “Okay, just cum in me. Cum on me.” I closed my eyes. “Do whatever you want, Master.”

He groaned. He was cumming, I swear.

Just as my orgasm was about it hit, I felt Hubby slide his dick out of my dripping cunt and then scalding hot spurts of cum burnt my ass.

“Oh fuck,” he was groaning, wanking himself off over my bum. “Oh, Christ.”

I stood there, pressed against the glass. My cheek and boobs were icy cold. Hot globs of cum were like lava on my arse. My clit throbbed.

I lowered one hand and touched my clit and mercifully, I came.

My orgasm hit me and I shuddered and groaned just as Hubby was squeezing the last of his impressive load off over my buttocks.

We stood there gasping for a second.

God. I felt great. I hadn’t had an orgasm for weeks and that felt blissful. I was tingling. But already the hot cum was cooling, feeling sticky and uncomfortable on my bum.

“I’m going to get a towel,” I told Master.

“No,” he pressed me against the glass. “I told you I’d keep you naked all day,” he hissed, “and you’ll wear my cum all day too, understood?”

The whole thought grossed me out. But it made my tingling pussy throb.

“Now go downstairs,” Hubby hissed hotly into my ear, “and make me some breakfast.”