#abrigada

[reburujado]

María Viridiana nomas #reburujadocomics #sketchbook #mariavidiana #modelando #invierno #winter #abrigada (en Aguascalientes City) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmmiGYlPYWl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[w00fwoof]

omw to get a sanguchito de miga

[hakkkinen]

🌍 :>

Oi, Marta 🌹

Entao... eu ja conheci a Inglaterra, que era um sonho que eu tinha desde sempre. E quando eu tava no aeroporto de Londres pegando o voo de volta pro Brasil ( pra minha infelicidade kkk) , os funcionarios da Latam de la eram portugueses! Pensa nums rapazes lindos e com o sotaque mais charmoso do mundo kkkk

Entao, o proximo pais para o qual eu queria muito viajar seria Portugal, eu simplesmente AMO a "terrinha" 🥰

¨(sem contar que a pessoa que eu mais amo nessa vida é uma portuguesa 😔)

E tambem eu queria muito conhecer o Chile, o ceu estrelado mais lindo do mundo fica la, em Serro Paranal. Por enquanto tudo isso é so sonho, mas quem sabe um dia ne?

[simplemente-fer]

Mal abrigada

Paola Soto

[sinfonia-relativa]

Quiero saber cómo besas, sentir cómo tocas. Quiero tu apretado abrazo bajo la lluvia, en ésta fría tarde de marzo. Tu cuerpo enredado en mis sábanas y en mi pelo. Quiero ser río abrigada en tu piel, soy esclava de tu risa y en tu aura me quiero perder.

GUERRERA LUNAR

[melancholicstation]

Salvatore can wait, now it's time to eat soft ice cream — bobby f. kennedy

As Jack's wife many may propose your sex life to be exuberant and quite frequent: in reality it's nothing of the sort. After having your beautiful baby-girl Enya, you'd expressed fears and insecurities of being intimate about your new post-baby body with Jack to which he kindly dismissed them telling you that he loved you even more now. While hearing those words from a man you've loved half your life warmed your heart his sentiments fail to quell your fears. However, what sets you free from all your present worries and gives you release is in fact his own brother and your brother in-law: Robert.

taglist: @vile-harlot @dulcegal @rockstarfreddybby @starsprangledgirl @bluelancergirl @hisamericanmuse @violetharmonsfavgf @vampyiricris @rocker-chick-7 @reptaysgf @castiellover77 @salvatoresablondie @mckinleygirl98 @h-l-vlovesvintage @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @obsessedwithjohnjr @monturi @darcyspirits @unmarlou @remotewatch @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @fortheloveofjos @strip-weather-forecast @ultr4v1ol3nt @acrowdedstreetin1944

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, postpartum insecurities, possible inaccuracies to do with pregnancy and postpartum as i have never been pregnant before, infidelity, nipple play, desperate catholic man, unprotected sex, drunk sex, fingering, being eaten out, 18+

words: 2,950 words

It was a quiet morning for you. A statement that you could rarely ever leave your mouth truthfully due to your residence being that big egg-shell coloured house located at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue in Washington—or how it's more commonly referred to as the White House. But you weren't in the White House, no, you for now were in the land of fado, wine, and poetry: Portugal.

Taking advantage of the barren land in your calendar managed by your assistant spacing between the 21st and the 28th you had decided to go visit your sorority sister, Alma, and her sprawling Lisboa estate 'Quinta da Abrigada'—or at least that's what she'd called it in her letters inviting you to the country house. You'd been initially apprehensive, a cross-country flight with a 6 month old baby seemed to be a recipe for complete and total disaster. Not to mention the press coverage, nit-picking your choices labelling you as an unfit mother, while hailing Jack as the dotting husband and father. Which he was, though that was when he was there which proved to be scarce.

Despite this worry of yours the person who truly convinced you was not Alma herself and her gushing about the residencies sparkling woods and breathing taking views of the Serra do Montejunto. In fact it was your very own tousled hair, chiseled jaw, president of the United States husband: Jack.

Apparently, in his astute opinion, he believed that some time away from the unrelenting US press and the ever thinning tightrope of public opinion would be good for you and the baby. Initially you'd worried that it would be to distressing for your little Enya to be away from her father that much for more than a couple days—you swore that you'd read a dreadful story in women's weekly of a baby forgetting the face of one of their own parent! You retold this story to Jack to which he only chuckled, and delicately cupped your face teasingly tapping the tip of your nose. In response to this he'd told you that once he'd finished up scheduled business in Palm Beach that he'd fly to Lisboa on the SAM 26000 Boeing. That was on the night before the 21st, and after listening to your husband you'd confirmed with Alma that you were in fact coming.

However it was now the 24th and Jack still hadn't shown up, and you were given no indication that he was ever going to.

Your melancholy about your marital situation was intermittently interrupted for a few days by Alma keeping you an incredibly busy working woman. You see, she was trying to convert the Portuguese country home into a fully functioning hotel and a wedding venue—she would never admit it to you or to herself but you had a sneaking suspicion it was a true vanity project in every sense of the word. You'd heard rumblings between European socialites that her Argentinian polo player husband was growing weary of her shopping sprees down at the Avenida da Liberdade and the last straw was a wine-filled rampage of the strip boutiques on Castilho Strett that ended in a bill of over sixty-two thousand euros.

Despite positioning your Portugal stay as a vacation Alma really put you to hard labour. Or at least your version of hard labour at 6 months postpartum which was lugging the ostentatious amount of floral and foliage arrangements for the happy couples who'd chosen the Portuguese country home to be a witness to their holy matrimony.

By 4 pm you were done for the day having laid out the varied bouquets of chocolate cosmos, primroses, hollyhocks, and wisteria. Some were incased by crystal glassed vase, like a trapped ballerina forced to spin inside of a music box. While others were allowed to roam free, tangled up the arched walls of the chapel, propped up by short and stumpy neoclassical stone pillars.

You'd initially underestimated how unhappy it would make you to see couples—each more happy than their former. It made you want to take a microscope to the state of your own marriage and shred it open. How unrecognisable you both were to the versions of yourselves that had walked down that Rhode Island aisle that day. Your marriage to Jack wasn't bad by any means: it was just different than it had been at the beginning. After having a child your relationship with Jack had morphed into more of a companionship rather than a romantic relationship. He'd become more distant: working later hours and coming to the west wing smelling of palo santo and black current bud.

A stark contrast to your personalised musk of waffle cone accord and vanilla...

But you were committed to make your marriage stick. For your sake, for your children's sake, and for the sake of Jake's whole presidential career. You were each other's best friend but sometimes, all of the time, you'd just wish he would touch and cherish you like a lover. You just wish he would be soft with your heart every once in a while.

You'd hoped a European getaway for the both of you would make some difference, but it seemed that Jack had made his choice. And so will you.

Because you had been such a help around the home Alma decided to watch Enya while you helped the florists prepare, the last time you saw your baby-girl was only a few short hours ago and yet your heart felt like it was being ripped from your chest.

Dusting yourself off, brushing away the cut stems of flowers and pollen from various flowers that were sure to stain the surplus of linen matching sets you had brought along with you, you made a bee-line away from the chapel and towards the main house. Maybe Alma truly was on to something about making the sprawling estate into a hotel what with its ample land of approximately 1,350,794 Sq Ft.

Due to its overwhelming size Alma had allowed you to stay in the third wing of country home which had been newly renovated to accommodate for her aspirations of it one day becoming an auberge, but much, much large. With its many rooms you and Alma, and Jack if he bothered to show, were more than comfortable. Though you could afford it with the shear square footage of the wing, Alma's cot stayed with you directly to the side of your king sized bed, a welcomed addition of the renovations by you.

You couldn't believe that Alma was taking this kind of project on, to you just planning it all out seemed hugely anal. What with all the construction needed to implement tarred streets, sidewalks, public lighting, water pipes, sewage, electrical and network cables at the entrance of each lot. I mean it was a lot.

As you push open the door connecting the wing you immediately b-line for the washroom: eager to get the confused scents of opposing flowers off of you this instant. You thought back to your conversation with Alma, remembering that she would be watching her until 5pm: delightful. Despite the absence of your daughter resting on your chest being deeply felt by you, it was a blessing to be able to take your time in the shower. A privilege that you had taken for granted in your twenties.

Apparently your darling Alma, along with Alma's own older children, was going to get a private tour of the romantic woods, the various sycamore trees, and even the proprietary chapel in between the scheduled weddings that day. You'd gathered that by now, taking a look at your watch while you start to disrobe for the shower, Alma and Enya would have already stopped by the church by now.

During your shower you lathered yourself with your 'garden essentials' body wash the scent of California lavender leaving you with a camphorous scent, awakening your senses invigorating you for the evening. Next, you applied a scotch pine shampoo bar to your scalp-a gift from one of your Californian friends from elementary school who'd turned to the all natural life—whatever that meant. Once out of the shower you palmed a hair oil blend of argan oil, natural antioxidants and fatty acids, pear seed oil, and castor oil throughout your locks. Since getting pregnant and after giving birth you had seen a direct decline in the thickness of your hair and an increase in hair loss, a symptom of postpartum you absolutely detested. Activating the arrival of your baby soon you'd decided to get your hair out of your face, since her favourite pastime of late seemed to be yanking your strands of hair with remarkable strength.

Speaking of postpartum symptoms... since you had started breastfeeding your baby girl, your nipples had gone increasingly sore and sensitive especially at nights. As a preemptive measure you put some nipple cream given to you by a midwife and went along with your out of shower routine slathering on your personal favourite body oil that you'd dispersed into a travel size bottle.

Moving out the bathroom after dressing your put on immediate edge. Despite its size you hear noises coming from the room adjacent to the bathroom you'd just stepped out of—the bedroom you and Enya had been staying in.

Ice hot horror had bleed into every crevice, and every vein in your body. Jack always told you to be wary of going places without security—always fretting over your security and your penchant for leaving unannounced, and now you were paying for it.

In an almost comical defence, you grab the nearest thing in your line of sight: ironically an erotic sculpture ground by a plinth that looked like it weighed a far few. Hands shaking you, grasp the brass handle and quickly turned the nob: trying to look as menacing as possible to an intruder.

But what was behind the door was anything but. There was Bobby, in all his grecian tragedian beauty, holding Enya with his big pilose arms supporting her head like a true natural parent—which you'd hope he was after having enough children to start as sports team.

Both of you looked equally surprised as each other.

"Christ, hun what ever are you doing with that thing?" Bobby says chuckling, while rocking back on the soles of his feet and motioning to the stone sculpture.

"Oh Good Heavens, Bob you nearly gave me a damned heart attack" you say clutching a hand to your chest. To which Bobby shamefully and discreetly looks at your chest—in his defence you were wearing a more than revealing top because you really weren't planing on any visitors.

"Oh I'm sorry, c'mere sweetheart how are you? It's been ages!"

"Bob we spoke over the phone two days ago!"

"Oh, c'mon now you that phone calls don't suffice for either one of us."

Bashfully you smile, but realise Jack has not accompanied Bobby, wondering where he is you ask,

"God Bobby it's good to see you too, tell me where is Jack around? did you tell him that there's stables he's probably there he'd love th-"

Interrupting you Bobby explains, "Sweetheart, he couldn't make it I'm sorry."

A bit embarrassed, you try to play it cool. Noticing your discomfort Bobby gently dislodges Enya from his chest to yours, and it's cheesing to say but the weight of her on your chest salves the wound ever so slightly.

"Bob how did you get her? I thought Alma was watching her?"

"Oh she was but we met down at the chapel and I offered to take Enya—she looked a bit occupied with her own roady children. I didn't want Enya to be forgotten about." he says while stepping closer to you, trailing the back of his hand against her cheek and then moving his eyes to you.

Flustered you take your time analysing him back: dressed in a rolled up button up white shirt, and khaki coloured slacks. Blushing, Bobby says,

"She seemed pretty sleepy when she was handed to me. Why don't you have some time on your own and I'll watch her for you?"

"Oh please Bobby i've had plenty of 'me' time. Your ramblings would do me good, would take my mind of Jack. Matter of fact I'm starving aren't you?"

"Famished! I tell you a palm beach flight to Portugal is no joke."

"Well that sorts it! we'll take her bassinet and have some food out in the grass."

"Sounds perfect, maybe some champagne. I know you can't drink but you can live vicariously through me!"

Chuckling you nod, and he follows you out of the room.

Moving into the kitchen you start to prepare the snacks. Looking at your bleak options since you haven't gone to the market you decide on hors d'oeuvres chicly displayed on a walnut cutting board gifted to you by a baroness. Gathering the necessaries: crisp bread, casalingo salami, foie gras parfait, chicken liver paté, and finally a bottle of pierre mignon for your beloved Bobby.

Delicately balancing the board with one hand, and the bottle in the crevice of your arm, you glance back into the bedroom with Bobby and Enya. Despite your unintentional eavesdropping you hear Bobby rocking Enya to sleep,

"You are so lucky to have your mom, huh? She's the best mom anyone could ask for don't you think?"

The comments warm your heart but you're unable to dissect that feeling as Bobby steps out of the room moments later and like a gentleman: immediately steps to take the bottle of wine and board from your hands.

And one thing leads to another, the hours pass, and by 10 pm you both felt drunk—and probably look it to any outsiders passing by. Despite not drinking a single drop you feel utterly intoxicated by his very presence.

Luckily, Enya had been picked up by Alma to be watched for the night after she'd landed upon you two in the grass: with Bobby's head in your lap, giggles emitting from the both of you.

As the night drew on you'd gotten immeasurably close physically, simply tripping over yourselves trying to catch each other up on both of your lives when you weren't with each other. Bobby being Jack's brother meant that a great portion of your life was spent next to Bobby, and even going a few days apart felt like a whole year for the both of you. Possibly a little co-dependent considering you both had parents but you both didn't want to question it to hard—the papers did enough of that themselves, always questioning your friendship or rather the existence of something more.

Once you two had sufficiently caught each other up on your respective lives, the conversation turned more soft and touchy. Bobby was extremely tactile when tipsy. You and Bobby had kissed a couple of times over the years but you'd never gone the distance, always stopping yourselves.

However this time neither of you wanted to stop, in a haste Bobby motions to take off your top, that was until Bobby's soft caresses of your body reminded you of the insecurities plaguing you for the last 9 months.

Feeling you freeze up Bobby, worried that he'd done something wrong, asks if you're feeling okay,

To which you reply, "It's nothing on you Bob, it's just that ever since Enya I'm so different to how I was. Now i'm sore and I ache all the time, and I feel so damn unloveable."

"Oh Hun, you're nothing of the sort. I see, before me, a woman not only worthy of love but of worship. Let me worship you, please I promise it'll be-"

Captivated, you nod almost immediately but cringe as you release you hadn't had time to wipe off the nipple cream you'd lathered on hours before.

Once your breasts are revealed to him you can't bear to look from embarrassment expecting him to recoil, but he doesn't in fact—your worries are bulldozed by the fervid pleasure of his mouth of your bud, sucking delicately for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Taking his warm mouth of your bud for just a second Bobby says with batted breath,

"Take a deep breath, baby, C'mon"

Overcome, you arch your back like a Persian kitten. Your nails scrambling, and tearing into the soft grass: your moans turning into soft, delightful screams.

Overcome with gratitude and deference to Bobby you scream out, so loud that you're not entirely sure that Alma can't hear you,

"Baby, baby, baby, I'm-i'm your man"

Who knew you could cum from that? Certainly not you, that's for sure but alas you did.

You take several minutes to come out of it, to which he just cradles you brushing a few short strands of hair, dotting kisses along the concave of your breasts.

As if to give back you raise a hand to his chin, and engulf him in a sweet kiss, nothing reminiscent of dominate coming from either side: just tenderness.

"Oh I can taste champagne on your lips, Bobby!"

"Y'know I do have an idea on how to get rid of that taste" to which Bobby dramatically lays you on the ground and gets down to business on his hands and knees, fingering and teasing your mound: warm and inviting.

By the whole end of the ordeal you've had 5 orgasms and made enough noise to rival the neighbouring cats and dogs screeches and barks.

All the nipple butter has been removed from your breasts and is now squarely strewn around on Bobby's face and lips—they do say lanolin is a good moisturiser for the lips...

[flor-del-infierno]

Solo por un momento no quisiera hacerme la fuerte, quisiera llorar en los brazos de alguien y transmitirle todo mi miedo y tristeza. Sentirme protegida y abrigada, solo un momento.

[papeispelajanela]

Quero derrapar nas tuas curvas. Te quero vestida ou nua. Te quero quando acordo e quando vou dormir. Te quero nos meus sonhos mais íntimos e nas minhas realidades mais cruéis. Te quero quando me alegro e te quero mais ainda quando meu coração aperta. Te quero perto, não importa o lugar. Te quero em todo e qualquer lugar. Quando não mais quero, quero o dobro de antes. Te quero como minerador almeja diamantes. Te quero vivo, morto ou claro. Te quero forte e ardente. Te quero em ruínas, te quero em glórias. Te quero quando ri e quando chora. Te quero em meu colo, em meu abraço. Te quero abrigada em mim, é só em mim. Te quero assim.

[shactividades]

CAPÍTULO 03: LARGA VIDA AL REY.

Ambientación: 19 de Octubre, 16:00 p.m. en adelante.

Clima: Cielo nublado.

Vestimenta: Ropa casual, abrigada. Colores neutros oscuros.

Ha pasado una semana desde el inquietante incidente con los animales. Tal como lo estipula la guía de iniciación del Proyecto, un citatorio semanal llegó puntualmente a los buzones de todos los residentes. Esta vez, la invitación era para una velada sorpresa en honor al cumpleaños del alcalde.

Al leer la nota, una sensación de desconcierto te invade. La falta de explicaciones sobre lo ocurrido y la propuesta de una celebración te parecen fuera de lugar, casi una burla al silencio que pesa sobre la comunidad desde el incidente.

Aunque la idea de celebrar en medio de tanto misterio te incomoda, decides que lo mejor será presentarte, al menos para evitar problemas mayores.

[...]

El sol se oculta tras las colinas, tiñendo el cielo de tonos cálidos, mientras los residentes de Safe Haven caminan por el sendero de árboles otoñales que lleva a la casona del alcalde Benjamin. La antigua casa rústica, con su fachada de piedra envejecida y enredaderas trepando por las paredes, se alza majestuosa al final del camino, rodeada de extensos jardines que resplandecen bajo la suave luz del atardecer.

Dentro, el ambiente es festivo y cálido. La sala principal, con vigas de madera en el techo y muebles de época, está llena de gente que se reúne en pequeños grupos, compartiendo anécdotas y risas a la espera del hombre. Una gran mesa, cubierta con un mantel de encaje, está repleta de bocadillos tradicionales y botellas de vino, mientras que en el centro de la sala se alza una tarta de cumpleaños decorada con esmero.

Benjamin, protagonista de la noche y recién llegado a la celebración, está de pie junto a la chimenea, saludando a cada nuevo invitado con una sonrisa intranquila. A su lado Georiga, su secretaria, golpea una copa para pedir por silencio.

—¡Qué sorpresa verlos a todos hoy! —exclama Benjamin, alzando su copa en un gesto que atrae la atención de todos—. Esta noche es especial para mí, no solo por celebrar otro año de vida, sino por poder compartirlo con cada uno de ustedes, quienes hacen de Safe Haven un lugar tan único.

Los presentes responden con aplausos y miradas silenciosas, y un cálido sentimiento de comunidad se extiende por la sala. Sin embargo hay algo en el semblante del alcalde que no termina de convencer a algunos. Se le nota preocupado y distante, muy distinto a lo común.

—Quiero agradecerles también por su ayuda limpiando las calles del pueblo. Me hubiera gustado recibirlos con actividades más entretenidas y no una ronda de limpieza de calles —dice con una sonrisa afable, recorriendo con la mirada a los presentes—. Espero sepan que algunos habitantes nos hemos reunido para llegar al fondo del problema.

Georgia, de pie a su lado, le da un suave apretón en el brazo, como recordándole su papel ante los demás. Cuando Benjamin vuelve a mirar a los residentes, su mirada refleja un agotamiento que no logra ocultar.

—¡Por favor, siéntanse como en casa! —añade, aunque su tono sugiere que él mismo no lo siente así.

—Sus nombres están escritos en las listas de pareja.

Busca a tu acompañante, elige tu bebida e intenta congeniar con los presentes. La casona del alcalde es famosa por contar con múltiples áreas recreativas que te ayudarán a distraerte del tu nueva vida.

Archivos anexos: Ubicaciones, actividades, grupos de organización y cuidados.

Tipo de desarrollo: Starters públicos.

Duración: 10 días, 23-1 de Noviembre.

Elecciones: Intervenciones secretas.

𝗔𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗦

TLDR; Georgia los citó a la casona del alcalde para celebrar su cumpleaños en una fiesta sorpresa. Todos los residentes fueron invitados también a participar en la recaudación de fondos anual en honor a Watts, teniendo que reunir propias de los residentes mayores en equipos. También se les asignó por parejas un adulto mayor al cual acompañar.

En esta actividad usaremos nuevamente la lanzada de dados para ver la cantidad de propinas que reúne cada equipo. Más información se sabrá en su momento.

El código de vestimenta es casual. Los invitamos a subir sus ediciones al blog y etiquetarlos con el nombre de sus personajes y al vecindario al que pertenecen.

¡Bienvenidos y gracias por adentrarse en el misterio de Safe Haven! Esperamos la actividad sea del agrado de todos. Cualquier duda pueden consultarla directamente en el main de forma anónima o con cuenta.

[w00fwoof]

dos capas en los pies tres capas en las piernas cinco capas en el torso

[wlfllia]

GAMER BOY - JEONG YUNHO 🎮

• PERSONAGENS: Jeong Yunho x Leitora!Fem.

• AVISOS: provocation, hard sex, 'Yun', sexo sem proteção (usem camisinha🤝), yunho boyfriend au, yunho big dick, dirty talk, oral. masc, yunho gamer, uso de 'princesa' e 'mo.

• NOTAS: O BOM FILHO SEMPRE A CASA RETORNA!! OLHA SÓ QUEM APARECEU. (gente surtei e quis explanar meu surto pra vocês e DESSA VEZ SAIU MSMO.

boa leitura!🤍

🎮.

Você não saberia explicar para ninguém o porque de seu namorado parecer tão fudidamente atraente enquanto movimenta os dedos de forma ágil no console branco do XBOX de ultima geração, recém comprado.

O corpo grande de Yunho estava jogado contra o estofado marrom, meio deitado meio sentado. As pernas estavam espaçadas, abrigadas pela calça moletom cinza soltinha. O tronco forte estava coberto pela camiseta branca de tecido fino e o os fios negros acoplados a um fone Over-ear ainda se encontravam meio úmidos pelo banho recente.

A expressão dele era meio séria. Observava atentamente as movimentações dos personagens na tela da grande TV da sala, soltando alguns palavrões quando era atacado ou fazia algo de errado dentro do jogo.

Você sente suas pernas se roçarem e de forma insconsciente seu íntimo dá pequenos espasmos de tesão com a visão, até que cotidiana, de seu namorado concentrado ao video game. Caralho, por que ele tinha quer tão… gostoso?

Não se controla e caminha silenciosamente até ele, as pontas dos pés descalços se arrastando calmamente. Se apoia no joelho direito e sobe no sofá macio, se esgueirando até o Jeong, que ainda se mantinha alheio a sua agitação.

Estica o braço, toca o peitoral malhado com a ponta dos dedos e apoia a palma na carne rechonchuda, o corpo tomba pra frente conforme se acomoda ao colo de Yunho, que a essa altura já havia percebido sua presença.

Os olhos desviam rapidamente da partida que rolava para encarar seu corpinho acima dele. Analisa suas coxas encaixadas ao lado das dele, sobe o olhar curioso por seu tronco, coberto apenas por uma camiseta dele e uma calcinha branca lisa, parando em seus lábios que exibiam um sorriso tímido.

Ele abaixa o pequeno microfone e deixa um selinho nos seus lábios chamativos. “O que foi, ‘mô?” A voz rouquinha questiona baixo. Você apenas nega em um balançar de cabeça, colando os lábios nos deles mais algumas vezes com selinhos rápidos, até aprofundar em um beijo lentinho.

Yunho ri, soprado contra sua boca, retribuindo o beijo, sacando todas as suas intenções no primeiro toque.

Acomoda a palma grande que se soltou do console na dobra de seu joelho, subindo lentamente por sua coxa exposta, ousando deixar um pequeno aperto na pele quando sente você se ajeitar em cima dele, rebolando minimamente sobre a ereção ainda desacordada.

Suas mãos sobem até os cabelos escuros do Jeong, retira o fone e o joga para o lado no sofá grande, puxando os fios lisos entre seus dedos, sentindo a respiração do namorado pesar contra a sua.

O manear de cabeças é afetuoso, as línguas deslizam calmamente, fazendo estalos e mais estalos ao passo que aumentam a velocidade do ósculo desejoso.

Yunho até chegou a ouvir as indagações ruidosas dos amigos vindas do fone, questionando o porque de seu personagem estar parado em meio a batalha on-line, mas não pode ligar menos, tanto que largou o console branco junto ao fone em algum lugar, levando as duas palmas para suas ancas redondinhas, empurrando-a para baixo enquanto investe minimamente para cima, roçando seu íntimos.

— Yun… — Sua voz mia contra os lábios rechonchudos, o fazendo chiar e capturar seus lábios entre os dentes, antes de a deixar pedir de forma manhosa. “Me deixa mamar, hm?” O biquinho sendo formado em seus lábios ao pedir algo tão imoral era o fim para Yunho.

— ‘Ce quer me mamar, é? — O tom grave junto ao sorrisinho de canto agregado ao lábios inchadinhos evidenciavam o quão provido de luxúria o homem abaixo de si se encontrava.

Você concorda com um manear de cabeça, roçando os lábios no dele. Solta um gemido de susto quando sente a palma direita do namorado espalmar estalada contra sua bunda, mas logo abre um sorriso sórdido, compartilhando uma risadinha ruidosa e maliciosa pela ardência em sua pele com o Jeong.

Você observa a canhota de Yunho seguir de sua bunda em direção a barra da própria calça moletom, puxa o pano pra baixo e libera o próprio falo recém acordado, que expelia uma pequena gota de excitação na ponta. “Vai, pega ele”. É o que o escuta proferir com a voz rouquinha. — Mama do jeitinho que você gosta, princesa.

Você se ajeita, sai do colo do namorado apenas para se posicionar de quatro a frente dele. Segura a base rígida do falo grosso e solta um fio de saliva sobre a cabecinha rosada, deslizando a palma para cima e para baixo, numa masturbação lenta.

A mão direita dele se encaixa em sua nuca, segura os fios firme quando a observa rodear a ponta do caralho duro com a língua.

Você abre bem a boca, aconchega a rola cheia de veias saltadas em sua cavidade quente. Engole tudo de forma faminta, toda sedenta pelo pau do namorado. “Caralho...” Escuta a voz gutural soar rouca e ao olhar para o Jeong, pode ter a visão do mais alto a encarando, a testa enrugada pelo tesão e o lábios rosados sendo mordidos conforme observava a maneira insana que você o engolia.

Saliva escorria abundantemente pela sua boca a medida que você engasgava contra o falo grosso, tentando o abrigar todo em sua boca, logo o retirando pela falta de ar.

Ele xingava em êxtase. A visão de seus lábios deslizando como seda pela glande rosinha e toda ensopada era excitante demais. A essa altura Yunho já segurava seus fios firme com as duas mãos, te forçando a mama-lo por inteiro enquanto gemia de forma grave.

— Gulosa ‘pra caralho… — Em um ato inesperado, ele a afasta da rola molhada, observando o fio de saliva o conectar com sua boca.

Com a mão livre, ele segura a base do caralho babadinho, masturba lento. “Coloca a linguinha pra fora, amor..” Você obedece sem pensar duas vezes, esticando a língua, prontamente o sentindo esfregar a cabecinha da rola gorda no músculo embebido.

— Amor… — Você abusava da manha para conseguir o quer. Não que o Jeong fosse louco de negar algo nessas circunstâncias, mas adorava o levar ao limite.

Por isso, não hesitou em se soltar do aperto do namorado, se sentando em suas panturrilhas para então puxar o tecido da camiseta soltinha para cima, a retirando de seu torso e ficando apenas com a calcinha pequena em corpo.

Engatinhou novamente até o colo do namorado, sentindo a derme queimar com o olhar de Jeong a capturar todos os mínimos detalhes da pele exposta que tanto o atraia.

Suas pernas abraçaram o quadril do mais alto novamente. A bucetinha molhada e ainda encoberta se encaixou sobre o membro duro. Você apoia sua canhota sobre o ombro e começa a se esfregar sobre ele, estimulando seu clítoris inchado, soltando gemidinhos cheios de dengo. “Me come Yun…Por favor��”

Caralho! Com esse pedido Yunho não foi capaz de esperar nenhum segundo a mais.

[•••]

— Isso- Ah! Fode Yun...

Era viciante para Jeong a ver cavalgando assim.

Quando suas coxas se contraíram ao fazer mais força e seus joelhos viraram alavancas para subir. Merda, ele achou que gozaria como um virgem.

Você rebolava sensualmente e quicava ao mesmo tempo, para cima e para baixo. Sua bunda redonda e empinada balançava nos movimentos, sendo apertadas e estapeadas constantemente. Os peitos arrebitadinhos pulando em frente a si também eram totalmente hipnotizantes para sua visão. Ele amava te ver sentando.

A cena erótica do caralho molhado aparecendo e sumindo em meio a sua bucetinha sedenta era delicioso demais. "Ah, porra! Que delícia, caralho! Isso Princesa!…"

— Yun, ah! Yun... Mais forte! Mete forte! Hm! — Você estava a beira da insanidade. Apertava o bíceps forte, mordia o ombro e arranhava onde sua palma alcançava. Caralho, estava sendo muito bem empalada pelo pau do namorado.

As mãos grandes dele se firmaram contra o osso de seu quadril desenvolto, agarrando em uma violência desmedida. Te puxou para baixo no mesmo instante que impulsionou a própria pélvis para cima, socando fundo. O choque lascivo das bolas fartas "estapeando" sua buceta cheia de gula se espalhou pelo quarto.

Yunho tinha as veias dos braços e pescoço totalmente saltadas. A barriga estava rígida, se contraia com o prazer, sentindo cada vez mais próximo de seu limite. Os dentes, às vezes, apertavam o lábio inferior, mas praticamente era impossível prender os gemidos animalescos.

Vocês trocavam beijos desengonçados, gemendo contra a boca um do outro. Saliva escorria por seus queixos à medida que suas línguas se encontravam fora da cavidade.

— Yunho! Argh! Cacete! — Em uma profunda estocada seu gemido alto e quebrado, preencheu a sala de estar do apartamento. Seu corpo estremeceu enquanto ainda sentia a movimentação do Jeong em seu interior no tempo em que chegava a seu ápice. Abraçou o corpo forte a sua frente, revirando os olhos em puro êxtase.

Sentindo o apertar de sua intimadade quente o sufocar ainda mais, Yunho se desfez também, soltando toda sua porra quentinha dentro do cabal úmido, gemendo rouco contra seu pescoço.

Com os corpos molhados de suor, vocês se encaram após alguns segundos buscando por ar, logo juntando os lábios em um beijo lento, soltando risadinhas satisfeitas e ofegantes.

“ ‘Ta porra Yunho, não sabia que ‘cê mandava ‘tão bem assim, cara…” Após o breve silêncio de estalos lentos, a voz de Mingi ecoa do fone que fora esquecido ao lado, fazendo vocês cortarem o beijo com rapidez, arregalando os olhos um para o outro.

Merda, haviam esquecido que o microfone estava ligado….

[guerrera-lunar]

Quiero saber cómo besas, sentir cómo tocas. Quiero tu apretado abrazo bajo la lluvia, en ésta fría tarde de marzo. Tu cuerpo enredado en mis sábanas y en mi pelo. Quiero ser río abrigada en tu piel, soy esclava de tu risa y en tu aura me quiero perder.

[simplemente-fer]

Mal abrigada

Paola Soto

[eu-estou-queimando]

Corre pelo corpo um arrepio, que alcança a nuca, teu cheiro vem, a boca enche de vontade de nós. Basta fechar os olhos encontro teu sorriso, sou transportada para o nosso mundo, te chamo, a conexão não falha.

Na tua ou na minha casa, na cama, poesia percorrendo cada canto do teu corpo, a nossa música no vinil, teu cheiro em mim, finalmente abrigada em você, presa no canto dos seus lábios, fecho os olhos e amanheço quando me toca, tem sol a meia noite, tem o tempo parando, eu me apaixonando...

Te tatuei aqui, ali, pra não esquecer que só você, só você faz todos os meus sentidos sentirem você. Só você, só você amanhece esse meu lado de paz, e em cada despedida sei que nunca haverá de fato um adeus, quem sabe até breve...

[fuckici]

14k+

Oioi gente desculpa por posta muito pouco eu tava sem vontade sem brincadeira mas agora eu to de volta e quero posta bastante em,muito obrigada pelos 14k de verdade estou nesse app des de 2022 e é o meu conforto amo dms esse app abrigada de verdade pelo esse número de seguidores 💗😣

Hi guys, sorry for posting very little, I was unwilling, no joke, but now I'm back and I want to post a lot, thank you very much for the 14k, I've been on this app since 2022 and it's my comfort, I love this app, truly sheltered by this number of followers 💗😣