Toutes nues, même en lingerie

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On ressort un peu des archives pour ce billet, mais on a pas pu résister ;o)

Cette série de réalisation de l’artiste parisienne Nicole Tran Ba Vang, met en scène des femmes légèrement vêtues, habillées de lingeries à l’apparence de peau ou parties du corps humain.

Ces photographies sont évidemment associées à un gros travail sur Photoshop.

fesses


+ 74 réflexions au sujet de « Toutes nues, même en lingerie »

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  7. She flicked off the lights and pushed him against the wall. A frame fell face down on the floor and shattered next to them. She didn’t allow him to take notice. She bit at his bottom lip, tugging his face, commanding him to follow her lead as she walked backwards down the hallway, deeper into the darkness, her darkness. And he, submitting to her bestial strength, simply weaved his fingers into the rust of her hair and bowed to her dominion. Like a lowly, unassuming insect, captivated by her hellfire glow.
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    Halfway down the hall, she slammed him back first into the wall again, harder than before — no frames there that time. She clawed at his chest under his shirt as she ate his kiss once more and bit down his neck; the groans he breathed out into the obscurity flinched sharply as her fangs grew less and less forgiving.

    His buckle caught the flash of lamplight seeping in from somewhere outside as she tugged at the leather strap of his belt. She ran her fingers up and back down the front of his chest, back down to his waist, and unclasped his belt, plucking it from the loops with a single sliding pull. Feverishly, she tore his pants open and moved them, along with his boxers, down just enough to reveal his smug erection. With both palms on his board-firm chest, she smirked at him, kissed him once more, a little softer than before, and squatted down before him.

  8. She flicked off the lights and pushed him against the wall. A frame fell face down on the floor and shattered next to them. She didn’t allow him to take notice. She bit at his bottom lip, tugging his face, commanding him to follow her lead as she walked backwards down the hallway, deeper into the darkness, her darkness. And he, submitting to her bestial strength, simply weaved his fingers into the rust of her hair and bowed to her dominion. Like a lowly, unassuming insect, captivated by her hellfire glow.
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    Halfway down the hall, she slammed him back first into the wall again, harder than before — no frames there that time. She clawed at his chest under his shirt as she ate his kiss once more and bit down his neck; the groans he breathed out into the obscurity flinched sharply as her fangs grew less and less forgiving.

    His buckle caught the flash of lamplight seeping in from somewhere outside as she tugged at the leather strap of his belt. She ran her fingers up and back down the front of his chest, back down to his waist, and unclasped his belt, plucking it from the loops with a single sliding pull. Feverishly, she tore his pants open and moved them, along with his boxers, down just enough to reveal his smug erection. With both palms on his board-firm chest, she smirked at him, kissed him once more, a little softer than before, and squatted down before him.

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