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Lusty Lit No. 5 Picasso

Art, Literature December 7, 2017

My brush flits under your arm, then to each nipple in turn, back and forth, teasing until they stand firm, wanting more.  Straining against your bonds, you feel my brush moving between your breasts, tracing a slow serpentine path to your navel, dipping in and around, moving back and forth playfully, ever so slowly, inch by inch towards the neatly trimmed hair below.

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Lusty Lit No. 4 Wing Night

Art, Literature December 1, 2017

Between her thighs rocking back and forth and the work she performed with her mouth on Jack’s swelled cock, Laruen felt viciously sexual and taboo. Her mind and body quickly connected the feeling of both her pussy and mouth working together as she wondered how she must look as the provider of pleasure while being pleased.  She glanced at the full-length mirror by the bed as she caught a glimpse of herself in the throes of an afternoon of adventurous sexual play.

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Lusty Lit No. 3 A Liberating Winter Night

Art, Literature December 1, 2017

Allison took a bite of the gooey marshmallows. “And surely this won’t be the only sticky white substance to cover my lips.” Matt set his glass aside and kissed her fully. She managed to barely place her mug down in time to kiss him back with a fiery passion. He muttered he loved her as Allison’s nails dug into the back of his sweater.

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Lusty Lit No. 2 Planet Orgasmus Needs Men

Art, Literature November 16, 2017

The man who walked out on stage was wearing a white loincloth and nothing else. His 6’2″ frame was solidly built without an ounce of fat on him. The rippling muscles and angles of his dark skin were oiled to show off every inch of his impressive form. In one arm he carried the Ramp and the other the Wedge. When he reached the middle of the stage he held out his arms to display the Shapes, and his face showed a wicked smile.

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Lusty Lit No. 1: Flirting with Maggie

Art, Literature October 18, 2017

By the time Maggie brought us the main course, Janet was softly sighing, biting her lip. I reluctantly brought my hand up from under the tablecloth, to my wife’s whimper of frustration, and Maggie’s knowing smirk. She scolded us, “I’m sorry, you have to finish dinner before you can have dessert.”

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