She runs into her crush without her pants. Porn Video
Can something positive come out of so much negative?
Thinking about masturbation didn't help. He tried his silent art class mantra: 'Margaret Thatcher, Margaret Thatcher, Margaret -' but it was too late. He was swelling and could feel the gravity tugging at his thickening cock and knew that if he looked down he would see it beginning to arc out from his body.
She had noticed too of course, but rather than turning away she came closer, transfixed by the sight of his lengthening cock fattening and uncurling like an awakening creature.
Looking at her as she approached, he saw that she didn't appear at all shocked. Rather, there was a pink tinge to her cheeks and neck, and from this angle he looked right down her substantial cleavage and to the outline of her nipples protruding through the fabric of her blouse. Instinctively, he reached out to her, longing to slide his hand down her neckline, to run his fingers along the curve of her breasts and cup them in his hands. He started to speak but she quietened him with a finger to her lips, and then held her hand up to indicate he should stay just as he was, silent and unmoving.
She slid a hand down to caress and knead her breast, and then down over the folds of her skirt. She ran her hand firmly up between her legs with her eyes closed, savouring the feeling as the afternoon changed in that moment from awkward to sexually charged; where she knew there would be no stopping until they had taken each other, until they had cast aside their restraint and fucked each other until exhausted and satiated.
She unbuttoned and took her blouse off -- a move so unexpected and sudden that it was all he could do to stop himself pulling her to him. She was braless, and her beautiful pale breasts stood proudly out from her chest. The skirt quickly followed the blouse to the floor, and then they were naked together just inches apart but not touching.
For her, she was transported back to the Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence, with the warm light through the dome centred on the huge statue of David on its plinth. She was sitting on the bench she had always chosen to the left side, against the wall. The murmuring crowds had faded and she heard the main doors being shut. Lastly the radios and footsteps of the guards had come and gone, and the interior doors were closed and locked behind them.
She had been so still and quiet that no-one had noticed her in the corner of the gallery and now she uncurled herself and stood alone in the great room. It was silent and empty, her footsteps echoing as she circled the plinth, recalling again the erotic charge she had first felt as a young woman seeing the massive form of David as a naked young man.
Her clothes seemed an affront here, an inconsistency. So she shed them and left them in a pile on the floor. And now she found herself naked in the gallery, with this great marble statue sprouting a huge erection. She knew Michelangelo was no stranger to erotic potential of men and smiled at the idea of him seeing his famous work so aroused.
She needed to touch him now. She turned to find a table against the wall that would allow better access, and dragged it to lie at his feet. On the table, she found she was now able to kneel in front of the statue, with the enormous stone cock pointing out at right angles towards her face. She touched her finger to his cool hard thigh and, having broken this barrier, clutched at his legs, burying her face against him, clasping him to her like he was a lost lover returned. She could feel her pussy had become wet, and ran her hand down through her tangled pubic hair and shuddered as she slid a finger across her slippery slit.
She reached out and touched him now, running her fingers over the rock hard cock, painting the smooth curved tip with her wet finger, so that the marble glistened and shone.