Normally we're able to stay focused on our theme here at IFM, but you just try asking these two not to fuck - their bodies are magnets for each other. The opportunity to film this kind of sexual chemistry was not one we wanted to miss, and looking at the results, I'm super glad we didn't.
All flippancy aside, I can't begin to tell you what an intense experience this was. The room crackled with electricity - a lot of cameras, a lot of screens, and such heat from the lights, the machines, from my body. I felt surrounded by tech and surrounded by self, every sweaty, writhing moan bringing my attention back to the triple vision of my helpless arousal.
Our clumsy tongues are rarely the best vehicles for communication - what was poetry often turns to chatter. The wires between brain and speech, between voice and ears can become crossed, and sometimes it just comes out all wrong. Jane E, brilliant, beautiful engineer, has worked out a solution...
It's cool to mark the differences between hands and vibes on Pippy's orgasmic clock - she takes almost exactly the same amount of time, but her signs of arousal come differently, in waves rather than the linear movement from before. Either way, Pippy is delightfully expressive in her pleasure.
I'm beginning to think Illenya's got a thing for heights - a thrilling but unpredictable choice of lovers. There's something comforting in it though, tucking yourself away above the world. Though Illenya doesn't have much fear for gawkers out in these quiet pastures, that urge to climb remains.
As someone who never seems to have enough hand-coordination when it really comes down to it, I gotta give props to Nikki Silver, who's got a series of pretty great techniques here. When you employ them one after the other, they really add up - especially when the ol' shocker is involved.
I like when we can tell how powerful a toy is by simply observing the reactions of the woman using it. Serveral times Temptation has to move her vibe away from herself, overwhelmed by sensation - and then, as she becomes more fully aroused, the same level of vibration becomes irresistably effective.
If Rubylove was dreaming before, she's fully awake now - her touch has gone from passionately reactive to intentionally seductive, as she lists one by one the things her body wants most, and doles them out like candy. That slow foreplay won't last for long though - she's just too damn good at it.
"Before I even start to feel orgasm approaching, the gawkers tell me to show them my breasts and stomach, to moan the way they want me to, spread my legs a little wider and show them my hidden clit. A pair of dismembered hands stroke and pull my hair as the spasms predicting my first glorious orgasm overcome me. Members of my audience crouch to get the best view of my exposed genitals and as my breasts, stomach and thighs struggle to keep up with the rapid movement of my hands, agony and pleasure become one, uncontrollably evinced, (testified!) across my distorted features. Hold yourself open to your audience and present yourself as whole. Orgasmic, defragmented, desirable and desiring woman." - Holly
Silence is the langauge I find most relatable. The written word holds so much power over me, and watching it mingle with Jane's sex is overwhelming - the way she leans over, breathing hard, to write to us. The delicate sheen of sweat over her strong backbone. I can't say I've ever been stimulated like this before.
Once you get going with a nice strong vibe, it takes serious willpower to switch it off, move away, or really do anything besides hang out and trip out on sensation. I applaud Nikki Silver's dedicaton to a well-rounded orgasm.
When Anais Nin was contracted to write porn at a dollar a page for some rich collector, she was asked to "leave out the poetry." Fortunately, she declined to leave out the poetry - and Naked Human didn't leave any out either.
The studio lights really suit Sarit's body and movements here, a trickle of illumination winding its way over her topography. That suggestiveness is ideal for Sarit's style of masturbation as well - a circular journey with a series of stops along the way, each one different but equal.
There's something about these lazy-day wanks that just makes them last forever, as if the real world is just a dream, and pleasure is the only thing that actually matters. Actually, I think I like wank-time philosophies best of all - all the joys of hedonism, without any nasty consequences.
Has anyone else noticed how very beautiful these scenes have been? It took me a few run throughs before I was ready to observe on an aesthetic level, but now I can't get over it. Their pale skin against that green green grass, and the way Saoirse tends to flush apple-red at the throat when she gets excited - stunning.