hot movie 2

 

 JAZZ NIGHT   We’d lost that connection. That spark. I never thought it would happen to us. We’re childhood sweethearts—always prided ourselves on our chemistry—how lucky we were to meet so young. Soulmates. We’d met in a high school Jazz club, him on the guitar, me the soprano sax. I wasn’t too good but you could just tell he’d be getting a scholarship to a music college. We’d fallen in love over a terrible rendition of Summertime, absolutely murdered the poor song, but there’s only so much you can expect from a senior year band who are itching to get out of the place and to a party somewhere. He must have been so fucking bored, waiting for everyone to catch up and hit the right notes. He didn’t even need to practice. Music was instinctual. The way his fingers danced and plucked at those strings had me quivering. We’d gone on to the same uni, different studies of course. I left my sax behind but we were inseparable from the first kiss and the thought of any ti...

   WORKOUT WANK I close my eyes tightly and I know my teeth are bared. It’s always like this when I masturbate . I like to keep it going for as long as I can, but I can feel I’m going to cum soon. I’m lying on the bed in my hotel room, my legs wide apart, sliding my fingers up and down my soaking sex, pushing my hips up, teasing myself with a quick rub of my clit. I still feel a little ashamed doing this, which is part of the reason it turns me on so much. Now my breathing is ragged and I speed things up. I squeeze my breast, pinching the nipple; sharp fingernails in the soft flesh. I like the pain. It makes me feel bad. I’m close now. I know what I have to do to bring myself off and it’s always the same: I think about a guy. Any guy will do; maybe someone I know, someone I’ve seen, or just someone straight out of my imagination. But he has to have a big cock. That’s always part of the sexual fantasy . It has to be so big that I know it’ll hurt me. I imagine him s...

Passionate tale of lovers vacation sex fantasy   She knew he was going to be good. Just how good didn’t really matter. She had already imagined how his lips were going to feel against her mouth… how his firm, muscled body would feel against her soft skin… what he was going to feel like inside her… her imagination was plenty enough to get her juices flowing. The rest was really just details. Like his name. She called him Romeo, but was his name really important? For that matter, was hers? It was all part of the plan. A spontaneous trip to an exotic island where no one knew who she was, or why she was there—the whys were always so complicated. Career not panning out the way it was intended… a string of exes that just didn’t make the grade… all of it was left behind in her small London flat she shared with three roommates, including her real name. Jasmine was the name she chose on her vacation. Jasmine was confident, carefree, and single. Jasmine’s only desire was to lay ...