In your best prose, describe a girl undressing

First she took off the shoe, then the other and so on in that fashion undressing reached its completion

Her dress fell off her shoulders, exposing all of her coconut brown skin in full nudity and her massive brown penis in full erection sprung forth like a startled snake behind a rock. My butthole twitched in anticipation.

Hoes, hoes

Why are you so petty? Take off your clothes and expect me to be jelly?

Sorry you whore, I could care less. There's something sublime about what I'm doing you, but I digress.

It's really too bad, about your accounts, maybe your Daddy will bail you out.

She (male) undressed.

good

bad

She took off her dress, and her virginity.

How can you take your virginity off?

Fucking fantastic

I hope she doesn't notice I'm standing here and wow, I guess those are what breasts look like.

Zeugma.

me likey naki boobez *kawaii smile*

Beams of light left the sun just minutes before her fateful decision to take off her clothes. Those cosmic rays of warmth had been warming her skin all day. By the pool, in the garden, she looked at him and decided that she would sleep with him if she could find the right moment. At the moment the thought entered her mind a solar flare erupted from the surface of the heavenly body and sent its invisible energy surging across unthinkable distances and into thier younger earthly bodies. She stood in the empty room, all the furniture missing as sunlight bounced through the open window on the third floor of the early 20th century mansion that was for a time a great museum of art but now sat empty waiting for the young bodies like statues to return and strike poses near the brightly pained walls and polished marble floors. She looked across the room at him, and he stared back at the beams of sunlight that bounced off her shoulder and into his mind. He saw her fingers as they slipped over the shoulders of her dress and it fell to the floor crumpling gently on the cold stone floor. The light of the window came from behind her, the solar radiation bent and bounced and penetrated the surface of her bare skin and he moved closer just to see that warm light on the small pores of her arm and the thin invisible hairs of her back.

Thanks, it was supposed to be "doing to you". Missed a word.

cringey samefag...

Even the most conceited woman has no inkling of the power in her possession. My friend was no beauty queen. She smiled at me - a dishonest smile. The tremor in her hand was like a dance, ancient and classically sexual as she clumsily dropped the strap of her bra. It left marks on her shoulder. She swallowed. We were close enough for me to hear the click. The other strap dropped, helped along by some invisible hand whose owner could stand no more waiting. When she reached around to unhook herself, it took two tries. I drank this in one long sip.
Her breasts were released - smaller than I expected. Her shoulders set in a pitiful attempt to hide them from me. Her next task at hand, she breathed deep of the thickening air. Maybe they were about as big as I had expected.
Her thumbs, answering the call of some destiny previously unlooked for, hooked into the sides of her panties and dropped them down. She stepped out of them, onto alien ground.

She sat on the bed, allowing her butt to fall into the medium-soft mattress she had bought two weeks prior from an Iranian refugee at a garage sale on the other side of town, right by the Shwarma place that her boyfriend always recommended to her, but never visited.
She pulled her white tank top over her head, and slid her shoulder blades downwards through the tight holes that once housed her toned arms. She threw her top into a pile that had to have been there for at least 2 weeks (maybe before the purchase of her mattress, maybe after, but certainly not on the same day).
With her top gone, Giuilia lifted her legs as high as she could, which was not as high as she wanted, as her hamstrings were tight from her lack of exercise since she graduated from high school, you guessed it, 2 weeks ago. Even so, her feet were high enough to shuffle her white jeans away from her hips, not without the help of her hands of course. Here is where things got complicated. Due to the small opening at the bottom of her pants, her feet were now tied together, so she had to really push the pants away from her in order to get them off. She was good at getting things off, and people, too.
Now the only thing that still clinged onto Giuilia's tight, Asian body was her bra and panties, unmatched. The bra was bought to her by her grandfather right before he died as a reverse going away present. He always like his little Giuilia. The panties she had bought at small hut on a resort-side beach during her march break trip to Playa del Carmen in 2016.
Now, you might be wondering how she took those off, and if heaven exists, I'm sure her grandpa would, too, but here's the thing. Giuilia, unfortunately, was too tired, and stopped undressing. She leaned back, and took a well deserved nap. Sleep tight, Giuilia Wang.

Genius

Her blouse hit the floor, shortly followed by that bra for which she never found the panties to match. Soon her feet were planted in myriad of her colourful clothing, dressing the floor less naked than she stood now.

Shouldn't have used the word floor twice, eh, I never write.

Hehe

>I did the same thing in mine.

Floor is a mysterious word.

>guy in your MFA

She disrobed.

She took off her black dunlop sweatpants[1], and her Lake Tahoe Tshirt[2]. she was left standing on the edge of the bed[3] in just her underwear, which she eventually ditched.

[1] $9.99, Sports Direct
[2] Received as part of a girl scout trip to the aforementioned lake in 1999(1), where she lost her virginity to one of the middle aged camp leaders, aged just 9. She's not sure why she keeps this Tshirt.
(1) it could of been '98, but definitely not '97 or '00
[3] I, the author, would describe it as more of a futon which had been folded out to form a bed-esque sleeping platform.

The pretty Asian girl took off her shirt. Her titles were poppin, and her titty nipples were banging. When she took off her pants her ass was like bam! Her vaguyin was like fwoosh! Her anal hole was all like Pwap! My ding dong was like SCHWAM!

...

She did done the nudes

BBY done gittin red for a fuckin

>I could care less

Ya blew it

Let's not have that discussion.

*unzips thong*

She slid her panties off and I noticed that the fabric was stuck to her pussy lips, and her pussy lips were stuck to each other, and I'd have to peel them apart if I wanted to get up in there. "I'm not even sure if I find that hot or not," I said vacantly to her pussy. "What?" she asked. "Nevermind." Then I decided to peel apart her sticky sweaty labia with my tongue. It tasted salty at first, but then it tasted like a whole lot of nothing. I wondered why she didn't get as much discharge as Brianne.

After a few minutes I shifted her hips so I could move down to her butthole. "Don't," she cautioned me, though not resisting my adjustment. "It was a long day." A formality. I didn't listen to her. It was going to be a long night as well.

I heard the Community opening credits song begin to play, and I remembered I fucking hate this woman.

Good post, Dr. Wallace.

She closed the door, and immediately pulled off her loose t-shirt. She wore no bra underneath and her pointed breasts were cool in the air as the droplets of sweat began evaporating.

Her jeans slid swiftly down her hips and in the same motion, her panties went down, and her tangled, damp muff was equally cooled. Her whole body was cool, and she felt vulnerable but completely comfortable at the same time. She cracked open the door and peeked out into the hall.

you have no sense of meter or rhythm

You also used "myriad" wrong.

She egressed her body from her panties and brassiere.

Did this do anything for anybody? I've never written anything romantic before and wouldn't mind some opinions.

>I drank this in one long sip.
Wouldn't a "long sip" be more of a gulp?
>answering the call of some destiny previously unlooked for
What did you mean by this?

Tightening her fists as hard as she could, Nancy gathered the energy required to explode into a god-like being, leaving scraps of clothing on the floor and walls.

As I entered the room, the chrysalis began to gently hum. As the frequency built in intensity, small cracks began to emerge in the pearlescent hull, leaking ichor reminiscent of pepto bismol mixed with the excrement of someone who has taken too much pepto bismol. With a sound like a hunder thousand starving crows turning on their children for sustenance, the avatar of Shub-Niggurath, the Goat Mother of a Thousand Young, emerged from gestation. She was kind of hot, I guess, once you get past all the sludge.

She hurried to take her clothes off.

The "long sip" would be taken in slower allowing for more savoring than a "gulp." Like a long and steady drink of water or inhalation of a nice smell. A gulp would be what a fuggin nerd would do taking in the scene of a girl undressing.

And as for the "destiny previously unlooked for," i would be curious to hear your own takeaway. I intended, loosely, to imply that the girl was in the situation after the narrator had led her there, through flirtation or what have you. The girl is innocent, and didn't lust after the narrator until she found herself in this situation, preparing to do something she may never have guessed she would be doing that day when she woke up that morning. There's the implication that her body (her thumbs) are taking the wheel so to speak, even though in her head she is afraid.

Anyway, I wrote it in a couple minutes, so it was very free and loose.

She stepped back, and with a look of annoyed disbelief said 'Here, let me help you' then quickly removed her sweatshirt above her head and stared into my eyes. 'If you want me I'll be upstairs..'

....About halfway up she shucked her jeans down to her ankles and stepped out one foot at a time, and with a sinuous little ass dance turned and winked at me with mocking exaggeration-- the longness of her now flushed cheek as if having let a monocle drop.

really bad whiteboi rapping, or high school tier poetry? you decide.

If you tone it down with the digressions, this might really be good.

As she bent over to pick up her panties and made those rolls on her stomach that all girls like to hide, she paused and looked up awkwardly at me and straightened up. Blushing, her eyes darted at the mirror and held her arms. she looked at my hard-on and bit her lips. It was a show. I've heard about her and her act, but I enjoyed it anyway. She took off her dangling bra and crawled on top of me.

The digressions were a joke, but I thought they made the writing more interesting somehow. Do you really like it otherwise? What particularly?

>writing single digit numbers as numerals in prose

When her skirt hit the floor I had already forgotten about my alpaca

The tying of small actions to memories and insecurities. I'm a sucker for that shit.

>all these descriptive posts of undressing when the first post already described it the best

11/10

But I thought those were the digressions... what sentence are you talking about specifically?

There is nothing wrong with digressions, but you can shorten them and keep them to a minimum. Dont go from one digression, back to the main narrative or thought, and then into another digression and do it again. it gets stale. Maybe build up to a full memory from smaller shorter thoughts instead of thread after thread.

The sound of a zipper being pulled up, or down in her case. Sure undressing in front of each other is pretty mundane by now, but that leather dress kills me. She knows it too, heckling me with the zipper. I'll be damned if I let her get away with that. A chuckle or two, a swing of her ass, and off the dress goes.

Only only garment remained, two if you counted God

That is fucking disgusting and made me inwardly cringe.

Just as the flibble crimpets hit the drimdram the ol' muncher started sashin' her lovely floppieknockies.

Liar.

/thread

I've heard of reading 2 books at the same time, but this is ridiculous.

Not him, but I cringed pretty hard too. Sorry.

Fuck me mate.

"What do you mean, 'undress'? We normally don't wear clothes," Rainbow Dash said.

I creeped around the corner. Pupils dilate and go up and down. Sweat on my brow. "...whoa nelly.." Leaves turn inside my trousers

Rarity made the dresses just to undress them later obviously

Bitch got nekkid and I saw tiddies.

"Off they go :)," she said.

Thanks now I want to die

Pa. Is it too much clothes?

Or too many clothes?

What.

You can say too many or too much?

Ye.

But if you put too much is it not many?

The man spat and said the clothes are not for this world or from it. We are clothed with many but we have not much. Clothed muchly too many but we know it not.

He wiped his chin and spat

>guy who had never been with a woman who doesn't like to undress while people watch and gets under the covers.
It really sends the penis inward

TORTILLA

The boredom of driving with this vapid cumslut to my apartment was about to pay off. I held the door open for her, told her to take off her shoes and took out my wallet to see how much I had. "What do I get for $27 dollars?" I asked. "$27 dolla? $27 dolla me love you long time. Long time!" She removed her perfume lathered lingerie starting with her top and the napkin size rag she called a skirt.

Melinda hated the year round heat of the flats, and her small white plastered wall room didnt shield her from the hot waves outside. The clothes clung to her as she took them off and wafts of her musty smell hit her face, ants crawled over her flushed thighs and small rivers danced down her spine to her ass. With only her panties on she went to the window, only stopping to check her reflection on the dirty basin by her feet. The sweat beads slowly formed and flew over her body in droves. she stared at the shiny glints move down to the base of her flat stomach, staining her crotch. She finally stepped out of the moist underwear.

it was a sultry Sunday afternoon. she stood there in-front of me with that alluring look in her eyes. i returned the stare with an unspoken command for her to unbare the ridiculous societal rule of being dressed; to disregard the one rule that sets us apart from every beast in this world. she took off her clothes and revealed to me what i've been taught to praise as a forbidden gift, but nothing ever looked so natural.

She began taking off her dress as the man she just met downstairs was watching, the man who had a beard and a smile that made her want to try something she has never done, her dress falling off her shoulders slowly onto the floor of the studio she rented from a friend, the dress fell past her breasts in slow motion sending a slight shiver through her body as her dress that she bought three years ago and never got to wear fell to the ground as the strange man watched, his beard colored between red and blonde and his cheeks with dimples smiling as her dress fell past her brests, the man with the red beard smiling at her like they were old friends, his eyes watching slightly glazed as she removed her dress, the black dress that she wore for the first time that day determined to bring a man back to her rented studio, three blocks from down town but facing the river and giving her a view of the depressing boats full of lonely men watching her in her window at dawn, standing there in her underwear unsure how much they could see, the bearded man who was at least six feet tall and stared down at her, thinking that she is as short as his mom or sister, why do women have to be so seductively short and sexy like this woman who grabbed him off the street, the woman who he didn't know removing her dress and staring at her feet as it slipped past her belly button ruffling with a noise she couldn't hear bit feel in her skin, her now bear torso skin tightening in the slightly too cold rented loft air as her never before worn dress is pulled by gravity and lust away from her body as a stranger watched, the man who woke up and planned nothing for his day except doing his laundry before he was diverted to a cold loft several blocks from downtown by a woman he didn't know, her dress made of polyester lined with silk sliding faster now as it overcomes the resistance of her hips not wide enough to hold up the dress, a dress she bought with credit to wear on a Valentine's date that didn't show up and she hid in the back of her walk in closet at the back of the rented loft and she found just that morning in the back of her closet in the rented apartment, the light of the morning shining in on her pelvis as the dress she was wearing for the first time fell towards the polished tile floor of her apartment just above a novelty gift shop that she has never been in, the black dress falling past her thighs she almost grabbed it with the tips of her fingers as it fell towards her feet standing on the rose colored tiled floor several feet away from the tall man with a beard that covered his face sparsely but well groomed, her face smooth and young and tanned but her nude body white and pale and naked.

this is bait right?

Waking up to a loud crash rarely means something good is happening. It’s never “CRASH! Mom's undressing!”

bretty funny

That man is a true patrician.

t.heming-gay

>not wearing anything under the dress
fuckin wot

Her brassiere's snaps are in the front. His own forehead snaps clear. He thinks to kneel. But he knows what she might think if he kneels. What cleared his forehead's lines was a type of revelation. Her breasts have come free. He imagines his wife and son. Her breasts are unconfined now. The bed's comforter has a tulle hem, like a ballerina's little hem. This is the younger sister of his wife's college roommate. Everyone else has gone to the mall, some to shop, some to see a movie at the mall's multiplex. The sister with breasts by the bed has a level gaze and a slight smile, slight and smoky, media-taught. She sees his color heighten and forehead go smooth in a kind of revelation--why she'd begged off the mall, the meaning of certain comments, looks, distended moments over the weekend he'd thought were his vanity, imagination. We see these things a dozen times a day in entertainment but imagine we ourselves, our own imaginations, are mad. A different man might have said what he'd seen was: Her hand moved to her bra and freed her breasts. His legs might slightly tremble when she asks what he thinks. Her expression is from Page 18 of the Victoria's Secret catalogue. She is, he thinks, the sort of woman who'd keep her heels on if he asked her to. Even if she'd never kept heels on before she'd give him a knowing, smoky smile, Page 18. In quick profile as she turns to close the door her breast is a half-globe at the bottom, a ski-jump curve above. Figure skaters have a tulle hem, as well. The languid half-turn and push at the door are tumid with some kind of significance; he realizes suddenly she's replaying a scene from some movie she loves. In his imagination's tableau his wife's hand is on his small son's shoulder in an almost fatherly way.

The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren, and the Holy Bible. I think.

She gazes into you, through you. The world wanders into an endless void. Cronus himself slows the wheels of time as you become this moment. Her shoulder slips right and ribbons of red silk fall from their perch. There is a brief moment of hesitation before her left shoulder follows. The hair stands on the back of your neck as you watch gravity take her dress, brushing along her breast before hitting the floor.

big/uncommon words =/= good prose

I have wood.

She rose from the reading chair with the subtle purpose that defines a woman. Walking away from the bedside where I was sitting, her dress loosened its capture, leading my gaze along the curvature of her pale figure. The dress resting on the floor, with a soft step, she moved towards the looking glass to steal a knowing glance. She turned with a quickened pace and met my wavering hand, allowing me to fall on the cool sheet. Her mount seized control of my reserve. Placing my right hand on the contour of her waist my left rose to release her. Uncoupled before me, I met her upright body, pressing into her as our lips met in a passion that defied all composure.

I was like water, she was wet. Her raiments she did without, as so many have- for love or otherwise.