Naked Bridal Jumpsuit, image by Irene Koronas
NaKeD BrIdAl JuMpSuIt
MiDdLe ClAsS
mOdErN DiStInCtIoN
sExUaLiSeD WoMeN
cOnTeMpOrArY gEnDeR
(bIoLoGiCaL oBsEsSiVe
OnLiNe PaTrIaRcHy
HoPeS rEdUcInG)
iNcReAsEd HoLd
VaLuAbLe DaUgHtErS
sOcIaL aCtIvItY
eDuCaTeD mEn
ExPeRiEnCe FoRm
KnOwLeDgE aCqUiSiTiOn
FrAmEd SeX
SoCiAl LiMiT
pRoFfEsSiOnAl CoNtEnT
aRtIsTiC gEnErAtIoN
aUtOnOmOuS eXpLoRaTiOn
ReCuRrInG qUeStIoNs
StRoNgEr AnAlYsIs
oBsErVe OrIgInS
sExUaL aPpReHeNsIoN
iNcReAsE aTtItUdE
gEtTiNg EveN
KiLlInG aNgElS
vIrAl aPpReHeNsIoN
uLtImAtE nAtUrE
lItTlE sIsTeR
pHySiCaL wRiTiNg
MaRgInAlIzEd InTiMaCy
SeXuAl AgReSsIoN
wElCoMe ViOlAtIoN
sTeReOtYpE ChAsErS
fReE iNfOrMaTiOn
FeMaLe DeStRuCtIoN
cOnFiNiNg HeRsElF
aCcEpTaBlE mEtHoDs
PlaNnIng DeSiReS
fOrCeD vUlNeRaBiLiTy
GeNdErEd OpPoSiTiOn
CuLtUrAl ApPrEhEnSiOn
CoMbInAtIoN rEmInDeR
tOtAl AscEnDaNcE
oPpOsItIoN iNtErChAnGe
HuGe PhEnOmEnOn
CoNcEpTuAl StRuGgLe
NeUrOtIc PrEdiLeCtIoN
uSeFuL eXpLoItAtIoN
LiBeRaTiNg GlImPsEs
CoNfInInG PrOcEsS
tEcHnOlOgIcAl VuLvA
rObOtIc SpReAdInG
nIgHtMaRe DoMinaTrIx
ChEmIcAl AcCiDeNt
TrAnSfOrMiNg BeInG
iNvAlId ExCuSeS
#obsessive
An almost insane desire, longing,
or burning lust for someone or something.
Many artists have some sort of obsessive behaviour,
obsessive love
obsessive city
obsessive delight
obsessive meaning
Bold awesome colors, right. Soft
combed cotton!
Show off your awesome rightness!
So what if some people think that right is obsessive?
obsessive disorder
obsessive worry
obsessive behaviour
obsessive dysfunction
Sensual lingerie and you feel this great combination!
Choose your favorite nightwear and enjoy every moment.
Whatever are you looking for – Obsessive has it!
obsessive lyrics
obsessive urges
obsessive fixation
obsessive creation
Much art is born out of the need to
make,
a positive manifestation of obsessive collecting and hoarding,
painstaking, repetitive use of materials or processes.
Continue
Reading Below
Your house.
The thought puts me off my food. "I'll just
have a shower quickly." "Of course." I stare at myself in the
huge mirror of his en-suite. My hair is a post-coital mess and I've still got
the cameras in the lining of my clutch. What were you thinking? I ask myself. I
expected a bit of fooling around, a pool party, then I would make my excuses
and make a hasty exit, not this. So why don't I regret it? "Can I give you
a lift anywhere?" he asks, the second I'm back in the room. "I'd
prefer to walk," I reply, "I need the fresh air." By the time
I've got last night's dress and knife-like heels on, he's already ushering me
out of the house with a brief kiss goodbye on the cheek. Once his car is out of
sight, I go back to the house across the street where our team is monitoring
his every move. They stare questioningly but I get the first word in,
"Someone had better follow him, he's in quite a hurry." "You've
been in there all night? Why didn't you set the cameras up?" asks Dave,
incredulous. Sorry Dave, I was busy having the most mind blowing sex of my
life. "I didn't get the chance, he didn't leave me alone for a
second." Tina sniggers and I glare at her. "Doesn't he sleep?"
asks Dave. "Not a wink, he must have taken something," I lie.
"Well, do you think you'll get in there again?" "I'm sure of
it," I reply, with complete sincerity. "I want to know
everything," hisses Tina, but I ignore her. I'm back in Marc's house, sat
on his marble kitchen counter with him still inside me, having reached a
shuddering climax. He's pushed my knickers aside and his trousers are down
below his muscular arse. He'd barely offered me a drink before he lifted me
onto the counter. I've been posing as a personal trainer in a nearby park for
nine weeks, so when he recognized me on his morning run he realised why my face
was so familiar in the club on Saturday, he's seen me commanding a group of
three to do squats and press-ups for months. He stopped me in the middle of the
session and asked me to come round tonight and I promised myself that I'd keep
my wits about me this time. When I disappear from his life forever, he won't be
able to find my clients to question them, they're all undercover like me.
"I'll tell you my fantasy," I whisper, nibbling on his ear, "I
want to do it on camera." "Get ready then," he demands, lifting
me down to the floor in his strong brown arms. I'm kneeling in the centre of
his bed in carefully chosen lingerie when he comes into the room with a video
camera and a tripod. Someone's done this before, I think. "It's your
turn," I say, pulling his T-shirt off him and tying his wrists to the bed.
I take his trousers and boxers off and feel a shiver of excitement at the sight
of him, hard and pulsing again. I take him in my mouth and run my hand up his
smooth, sculpted chest as I suck and lick, feeling myself get more aroused with
each of his groans. When he's on the brink, I climb on top of him and order him
to wait, rocking back and forth as he fills me, reaching every hidden spot. He
breaks his hands free of the ribbon with a tear, cupping my breasts and
groaning, his urgency making me feel even more turned on. He runs his hands
down onto my waist and moves me up and down to his own perfect rhythm. As soon
as I begin to climax, he gasps with relief and finishes with me, eyes clenched.
Before long he's fallen into a sex-worn sleep with his heavy arm lying across
my back. Once I hear his breath reach a slow, steady rhythm, I slide out from
underneath him and slip my clothes back on, my body still tingling with
passion. I make my way quietly upstairs and finish my assignment, placing
cameras in a bookcase in his study, in his black and chrome kitchen and the
fireplace of his living room. I bug the phone and find the painting that hides
his safe, making a mental note of the type of lock so that I can report back to
Dave. After creeping back down into the bedroom, I look over at his sleeping
body, the sheets tangled around his waist, exposing his beautiful frame. I take
the memory card out of the video camera. I might never be able to have sex with
Marc Burgess again but at least I'll be able to relive it now. ask him about it
but he's stopped chatting, distracted now. I realize with delight that he's staring
intently at me, his eyes lingering on my waist, my legs, my chest. He runs his
thumb gently along the side of my dress, tracing the curve of my body before
guiding me down the spiral staircase into his bedroom. A minimalistic iron bed
stands alone in the middle of a sparse white room. There's a screen across one
wall that's the size of a small cinema. So this is where all of your stolen
money goes, I think. I let out a sigh that's completely genuine as he pushes me
back onto the bed and I notice four wide, black silk ribbons are tied to the
bed frame. He kisses me so urgently, gripping my thighs in his hands, pressing
into me with his body that, for a second, I forget the plan. Every bit of him
is hard and strong. I'd happily rip his clothes off there and then but he
stops, reaches up to get one of the ribbons and ties my wrists together. Oh
god. Talk about a wake up call. Have I let this go way too far? "What are
your fantasies?" he whispers, "I want to know your secrets."
"This," I gasp back at him, despite myself. "I like this."
He ties my hands to the bedstead and I'm fully aware that he's strong enough to
do this without my consent. Then again, I could break out of these ribbons
without a second thought, and besides, I'm completely compliant, biting down on
my lip and staring intently back at him. He runs his hands down to my breasts
to feel hardened nipples pushing up through my dress. He reaches under me to
unzip it, staring at me the whole while before pulling it down over my legs.
I'm not wearing a bra and my boobs are pert, waiting for his touch, but he just
stares as he pulls my lace knickers off after the dress. He starts to tie my
feet up and I lie there, naked, exposed, with him fully dressed, loving every
second. Advertisement - Continue Reading Below Woman having an orgasm Getty He
takes off his shirt and I feel another wave of desire as I stare at his tanned,
muscular chest, hard above his bulging jeans. I know this is wrong, but there's
no way out. And honestly? I don't want one. He leans down and kisses me, his
lightly stubbled cheek brushing against me as he licks my left nipple. He takes
the right nipple in his hand and rubs it under his thumb as he bites down
gently, teasingly. I'm groaning with desire when he slips more fingers inside of
me. I gasp, it's intense, forceful. I feel myself opening up to welcome him in
and lose all sense of time as he reaches inside, stroking my clit with his
thumb. When I climax with a small cry, he takes his hand away and starts to
kiss me, from the inside of my legs, right down to my feet. He runs his hands
down to my breasts to feel hardened nipples pushing up through my dress. The
sight of him fighting to restrain himself, still dressed from the chest down
while I'm naked, ready and waiting, is a massive turn on. He works his way back
up my legs with his mouth. His tongue flickers inside me, stroking and kissing
and licking while his hands grip my legs and I writhe underneath him, gasping
in pleasure. I can't tell how long this goes on for; I never want it to stop.
Eventually I'm begging him, pleading with him to put himself inside of me in a
voice that I don't recognize as my own. When he finally enters me, I lose all
sensation other than the awareness of him filling me, touching me in places
that feel as though they'd never been touched before. We climax together and he
falls onto me, sweaty and panting. With my hands and feet still tied, I slip
into an exhausted sleep. "Breakfast," he announces, waking me with a
tray of fruit and a cream cheese and smoked salmon bagel. My hands and feet are
free and I'm surprised to find that he's tied one of the ribbons around my
hair. "Wow," I groan. I don't normally eat breakfast but I've never
felt as hungry as I do at this moment. He picks up a pear and bites into it,
lying at the foot of the bed, propped up with one elbow. I notice for the first
time that he's wearing a suit. "Listen. I've got to make tracks soon,
important meeting, but I had fun last night, I want to do it again." Fine
by me, I think, but I'm actually supposed to have planted six hidden cameras.
“That sounds incredible.”
Anna
Moore—
