Tyson Beckford and Transgender Model Ines Rau Get Naked in Explicit Photo Shoot for ‘OOB’ [NSFW Photos]
Intensity smolders beneath flesh bearing evidence of Louisiana’s
midsummer’s heat surfacing atop her skin…
She’s wet…soaking wet…as the sweltering inferno within
boils to the brim of unfiltered pruriency…
Transparent…the white linen dress adheres to her wanting body
becoming a second skin,
and his phallus calcifies as his eyes butterfly
the hips, nipples, shoulders, back, legs, and thighs
piercing through that seems to
call him by name…
She lifts her dress…slowly…
exposing her hunger for the sweetest eat…
and she tips to him, spreading legs to touch where fingertips lick lips,
accelerating coitus precipitation to drip from her clit
as it spits maraschino liqueur
onto a belvedere of erotic delirium…
She burns intensely,
melting from the humidity of misty bayou waters
along with vapors rising from between her thighs,
she assumes the position of Rover… bending over…
and he aligns behind to her bent over spine…
her pussy willow billows sirens of exquisite pain
as he feeds her pink petals his meat…salty and sweet…
thrusting stroke for stroke and she whines as she winds
a pulsating grind…on his mandated stick
as wisps of strands waft through the air
from the pull of her hair at the mercy of his hands…
and she rends her lip as he seizes her hips…
necks turns and flesh burns
as bruised shins accompany grates of scraped knees
abraded against scintillating floorboards
coinciding with wood grained splints fragmented beneath nail beds
as the floor beds this scene of
And lust’s palate feasts on this buffet of sexual gluttony
as shots of Patron wake lullabies to scream
infallible urges of hard sleep
to awaken heightened peaks of
tasting and touching…licking and thrusting…deep throating and sucking
where sex makes love seep sweat and grime
from velvet walls
breathing breaths of indulgence over weakened flesh
til uninhibited sensuality vexes love
to release vessels of subdued desires
into an unparalleled dimension of
bruh ion see how niggas really tryna downplay like they dont fuck with dark skinned sistas, like you dont see how they skin glow in the sunlight? nigga that is a gift from God
Kaone Kario by Robert Grischek
Woooh mah gawd.
My God. Her skin. 😍😍😍👏👏👏
Can I have her skin. Omfg. 😍
I will find them for you❤️ yesiamhisgoddessOh Daddy…please shesmygoddess
This will be the best gift!
where the skin beneath our clothes
doesn’t get to touch.
Typewriter Series #847 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
Have you ever wondered what you’d find if you took
your two hands and placed them on my chest and with force,
just enough force my love, pulled it apart and wide open?
I should spare you the gore and the stains on your perfect
hands and tell you instead what would be discovered
beneath this skin and these creaking ribs that have
fought so long to keep the heartbeat inside and the pace slow.
Through the blood and bone and the broken breath of
my battered body you will find so many things you never would
have looked for.
I’ve no doubt in my mind that you will find the residue
of our conversations and the fragments, the small
remains of a lifetime of skipped heartbeats.
You will find the silhouette of shared kisses and
sparklers in the late summer air. The breath that used to
hang above your lips in the cold of morning and the moonlight
and the sound of shuffling feet dancing beneath it.
Look, closer and ignore the red upon your fingertips.
Look, and find the sound of laughter under the covers
and the way your hair smells fresh from a shower.
It’s there, and it’s covered with giant snowflakes
that seem to fall inside me in slow motion
and the flash of the lightning that struck me but spared me
and left me alive to hold you.
Pull harder and reach and risk the scrapes on your knuckles
from the jagged ribs that threaten your advance.
Reach and find the space and invisible thread that connects
the center of your eyes to the center of mine
when we stare at each other. Find the words.
I promise there will be words and the ink will cover the
red on your palms and you will never understand how many
fit inside me, how many can come tumbling out.
A magician you will swear I must be and words will be
the scarf that just never seems to stop. Pull and pull
and get to the bottom of the words and find
the last word that has been at the bottom of the pile
since I started collecting them all in my chest.
Find the word and smile that smile that only you
can smile when you realize that word is, and was,
and always will be You. You.
It’s there where it should be and it’s draped with the way
your hand feels on my skin and the rattle of thunder
against the walls, the raindrops on my skin.
I will feel your hands, cold against the warmth
inside me and you will feel the flapping of the birds
and butterflies, their wings stirring the dust
that collected in the time I spent waiting for you.
Feel them fly past the broken ribs and across your
open palms and close your eyes as they create the breeze
that will tickle your cheeks. Take your hands now,
place them on my chest and find yourself ready
and willing and more than completely
able to discover and set free
all that lives inside me.
Don’t fuck me.
Don’t make love to me.
in the darkest parts of my body.
When you hold my neck and kiss me, I can
feel the butterflies float in my tummy,
collecting the nectar from the daisies you managed
to grow, in what was just an empty pit
of despair and hatred.
I hope you never forget to water these plants.