Watch Yvonne Catterfeld's Butt, Breasts scene on AZNude for free (44 seconds). Yvonne Orji is a Nigerian-American actress, comedienne and writer who continues to display her versatility and passion with each project she takes on. Here is a story about a superheroine for both superheroine and non-superheroine fans! Darkwing (Bluestone's Batgirl), played by super-sexy and long legged Yvonne.
Here is a story about a superheroine for both superheroine and non-superheroine fans! Darkwing (Bluestone's Batgirl), played by super-sexy and long legged Yvonne. Headmistress' favorite sport. By 2NN. Authors note: Be warned: This one is more than a little extreme. This story should not be shown to, or be read by, minors. Yvonne Strahovski, News, Photos, Videos, Movie Reviews, Footage | www.chaumont-sur-loire.info
Yvonne Orji is a Nigerian-American actress, comedienne and writer who continues to display her versatility and passion with each project she takes on. This is a story about futanari. Yvonne and I first met in the summer before my senior year, in the woods behind my family's property. It was kind of embarrassing. The latest entertainment news, most scandalous celebrity gossip, in-depth TV and reality TV coverage, plus movie trailers and reviews.
This is a story about futanari. Yvonne and I first met in the summer before my senior year, in the woods behind my family's property. It was kind of embarrassing. She caught me lying naked on a mossy log by the stream, beating off in a single-minded frenzy. I've made better first impressions. I grew up in a very conservative household. My parents had a strict no-porn rule, and I was prohibited from having girlfriends or engaging in 'acts of self-abuse'.
If you think that kind of ban is unenforceable, then you don't know my parents. It amazes me that people so sexually phobic were able to procreate. It also amazes me that I accepted their regime as normal for so long. While I wouldn't describe my parents as evil or abusive they provided as best they could , when it came to sex, they were just I had stripped naked there in the woods to ensure no evidence would accidentally spatter my clothes.
My mother would carefully inspect every article when doing the laundry, and I would have to explain any mystery stains. At night, they would listen at my bedroom door, sometimes for hours. If so much as a bedspring creaked, they would fling open the door to "just make sure everything's all right.
None of them actually stopped me from masturbating of course, but I had to go to ridiculous lengths to get my private time. And I would feel so guilty about it afterwards that it would be days before I would get desperate enough to do it again. Sadly, they didn't have to work too hard to prevent me from dating. At that age I still hadn't properly filled out, or attained my full height.
I was a nervous runt with no social graces. The girls in my hometown couldn't be bothered with awkward clods like me. Our town hosted a big, prestigious university and the girls only had eyes for the male students. Every year a new crop of old-money boys from upstate would come to town, all destined for bright futures elsewhere. My fellow townie boys all learned to say "fucking stuck-up college-groupie" before they learned to say "pass the salt.
Masturbation, however, was well within my grasp. Even with all my parents' moaning about hairy palms and blindness, I couldn't be stopped. I was at that age where my penis would stiffen up of its own accord several times a day, and it was too tempting not to play with it. I loved the nasty images that came into my head as I masturbated. Visions of naked, beautiful women and men doing exciting sexy things to each other, and sometimes to me, would just spontaneously appear. The exact details were always vague, as I had no sexual experience beyond masturbation, and precious little visual material to draw upon.
The imagination is a wonderful thing, though, and as I rubbed myself, the pleasure and those sexy thoughts and feelings would rise to an awesome peak. When I shot my load all over the bushes, it was pure heaven. Not much was fun or pleasurable in my life in those years. Masturbation took me someplace else, and that made it an Unquestionable Good. My parents worked long hours during the summer break, and fortunately, that summer there was only part-time work to be had for students.
I had whole days to myself. Our house was out past the town limits, on the edge of a state conversation area, and we had no neighbors. While the house was a sexual no-fly zone, there was plenty of opportunity to fool around naked outdoors. I knew lots of secluded little dells where I could strip and play with myself in complete privacy. In retrospect, I guess it seems obvious my home life was a pretty repressed, miserable existence. Yvonne taught me differently. Someone gave my heart a brutal squeeze.
The air wheezed out of me, along with all rational thought. I gaped at her. She wore round, wire-frame glasses over large, pale-blue eyes. That was the first thing I noticed. She had the most disconcerting eyes. You looked into them and whether you were looking for it or not, you saw right to the very bottom of her soul. I remembered I was naked. I remembered I had my dick in my hand. I let out a horrified yelp and fell off the log.
I landed face-down in the muck of the riverbank with a loud splat. It was pure luck I remembered to close my eyes at the last instant. I was unhurt, but embarrassed nearly to death. I was covered from brows to toes in mud. My dick speared straight into the muck, and as discomposed as I was, it still felt kind of good. If I weren't overcome by shock and horror I might have been tempted to give it a few humps. As it was, I had absolutely no idea what to do next.
I peeled my face up out of the mud and looked at her. She just stood there and regarded me with polite concern. As a definitive moment of one's worst nightmare realized, it was somewhat anticlimactic. My voice had a funny hoarse sound, like it was breaking again. That's all I could think in that moment. With her plain round face and long straight hair, she looked more like a Mary or a Barbara.
I belatedly remembered my mother mentioning earlier in the week that a family had moved into the old Peddimore farm. It hadn't sunk in that we were no longer alone in our rural little corner of nowhere.
Do you need a hand there? I needed to wash the mud off me. That was my first imperative. My second imperative was not exposing myself to this strange girl any more than I already had.
After a moment's deliberation, I stayed on my belly and crawled backwards into the stream. I suspected I looked even more ridiculous that way, but I wasn't about to stand up and give Yvonne another front-row seat to my persistent boner. The water was cool and pleasant on such a hot day and came up to my chest as I knelt on the riverbed.
It rushed quickly enough to obscure my submerged nudity. I wiped away the clinging mud as quickly as possible. Oh that's just great. I closed my eyes. She knew where I lived. I had visions of her showing up with a housewarming casserole. Wozniak, I'm Yvonne and my family just moved in down the way.
I've already met your son and boy, can he ever spank the monkey. I could feel the warmth rushing into my face. My vocal cords seemed frozen. She didn't seem to mind the silence. We're a couple bends down the road from your place. This ushered in a new problem. My clothes were still on the bank.
I was too uptight to just stroll out of the river naked in front of her, but it seemed lame beyond description to ask her to turn her back. I cleared my throat. Then I walked out of the river, dripping wet, feeling more like an idiot than ever. I stood on the bank and stared down at my waterlogged self.
Today was my parents' day off, and they were home, expecting me back soon. They thought I was at work, and there was no way to sneak in without them noticing me. If I walked in as soaked as I was, a full-bore interrogation would ensue. I was still fairly easily browbeaten in those days; even if I didn't crack under questioning by no means a sure thing my parents would still be more suspicious than ever.
I'd have even less freedom. Hell, I wouldn't have put it past them to stick me with an electronic ankle bracelet. All my covert jackoffery would be on hold indefinitely. My dismay at that prospect overshadowed my current humiliation.