Miss Texas Contestant 2015 - Sex Stories

Miss Texas Contestant 2015

... rise and the bubbles slosh from her movements. She turned off the water and sat back with her eyes closed, her short body fitting fairly easily in the tub. She soaked for a few moments, her thoughts churning. Is this a smart idea? She has never met this man before...There are many ways this could go badly. I'm thirty five years older, after all, at 55; she is just 20. Horror stories of girls meeting the "perfect man" flooded her mind. No, that wouldn't happen to her. She had not seen any pictures or videos of me – she had not talked with me on video chat even. Her thoughts drifted to me, having never been with a older man before, only with guys her age. Idly, her left middle finger traced circles on her clitoris and she bit her lip. How had I convinced her to go through with this? To meet me at my penthouse...To spend the night with me. Her hand combed through her bush as she thought of the sexy texts they had exchanged, the snap chats that she had told herself she wouldn't send but did anyway. She wonders what my hands will feel like on her body, she wonders if I have a big cock, what will it feel like between her legs. Her mind replayed memory of seeing pictures of a man stroking his monster cock. She imagines me watching her masturbate. She is so naieve with so many questions, having never seen or touched a penis, how much pain when a penis penetrates a vagina, will there be blood are some of her questions. She sat up, grabbing the side of the tub and panting. She had ...

... been on the verge of climax without realizing it. Her clit throbbing and her body is flushed pink. No, she wanted to save that for me. She toyed with the purple disposable razor in her hand, looking at her body through the water. Her toes are getting wrinkled from her extended stay in the water. The biology of skin pruning ran through her mind and she smiled, lifting a leg into the air. Setting down the razor she picked up a bottle, squeezing a scented body wash into her hand. Fruity and flowery – not normally words she used to describe herself, but a scent she enjoyed all the same. She slathered the soap on her left calf, working it into a thick lather that clung to her skin. She picked up the razor again and dipped it in the water before bringing it to the inside of her calf. She always started on the inside ankle. She dragged the blade smoothly up her leg, watching as her pale skin was revealed through the lather. She inspected the triple-bladed head, then rinsed it in the water and began again. The act of methodically preparing herself for a strange older man turned her on and frightened her; she loved to watch herself transform. The razor ran over every inch of her skin on her calves and knees, revealing slick, warm skin. She shaved her quads, ignoring the backs of her legs where the hair grew soft and thin; it is too much work and she doubted I would notice or even care. She rinsed her legs and then ran her hands across them, feeling for bits she may have missed. Any such ...