Teen 14 Naked

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Hot and horny naked teen selfies for you. #sexyselfies #nakedteens

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model at the Montreal summer fashion festival bikini show
Bikini Village show during Formula 1 Week, Montreal
Beautiful girl at the underground mall
Pretty girl out for a walk on a warm evening
model at the Montreal fashion festival bikini show. earlier this summer.
model at the Montreal summer fashion festival bikini show. being covered up a bit can also be sexy.
Sexy undergraduate out for a jog (wanted to remain anonymous)
Bikini Village show during Formula 1 Week, Montreal
Pretty girl out for a walk on a warm evening
Bikini Village show during Formula 1 Week, Montreal
Beautiful young woman shopping at the mall
beautiful girl from Southern France
model at the Montreal summer fashion festival bikini show
A beautiful girl trick or treating in a gorgeous red saree.
Timothy Tolbain- The Werewolf Boy, born of Lycanthropy from his parents side. Transforms every Full Moon. (Lycantropin)
Age: 18-24 (ageless at 8)- DOB: June 13th, 1986
Height: 3’6 on flat feet; 4’7 on base of feet
Timothy was born to both Lycan parents & shared a life like any other kid, but with a few questions regarding his earlier life.
For years, Timmy has had constant dreams that he was running on all fours through the woods, preying on animals, and seeing what looked liked his parents as Wolf-Like people. In reality, it was Timothy sleepwalking every Full Moon as a Werewolf.
It was only when Tim was 8 years old that he found out that he was a Werewolf & had witnessed his first Transformation into a Werewolf, even though he had seen himself Transform before, but was too young too remember that event. :D
Although Timothy strictly prefers to be Naked whenever he can, he will however wear occasional Shirts with Pants/Shorts with different trademark designs on his shirt like; Batman, T2, Blade Runner, Superman, Wolverine & other logo’s on them.
Timmy also has a very strong dislike for any kind of foot wear, and goes BAREFOOT all the time, aside from Skool, which irritates him Horribly & interrupts his concentration, which is due to the fact that he has the BIGGEST Feet in his school.
All Werewolves have a natural habit to go Naked/Barefoot & have no shame or embarrassment about it.
Food: Meat (raw/cooked) fast food, pizza, ice cream, cheeseburgers, etc.
Hobbies: Video Games, music, exploration, movies, DVD’s, etc.
Movies: Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Blade Runner, STAR WARS, Superman: The Movie, Rambo II, Batman.
Music: Weird Al Yankovic, 80’s, Movie Soundtracks, Rock, Techno, etc.
Other: BIG Fan of Sonic the Hedgehog, and has a rare form of Kaiser’s Syndrome which is only apparent in Lycanthropes.
Secret: Hates his brother, Jake Tolbain, with a Passion & blames him for his parents death, and had once questioned his own Humanity as a Werewolf for a long time in his mid-late teens.
model at the Montreal summer fashion festival bikini show
Beautiful young women in the subway
lovely girl does a quick pose on the main
beautiful girl does a quick pose on the main
Beautiful young woman shopping at the mall
model at the Montreal summer fashion festival bikini show
the mood it changes like the wind, hard to control when it begins
the mood it changes like the wind, hard to control when it begins
the mood it changes like the wind, hard to control when it begins
There's a sad knowledge in my heart of where this tendency of content overpolicing is going on a larger scale. This overreach of control and micromanagement. If I'd posted this pic to a small local URBEX Facebook group, my post would be deleted without any explanation and prior communication on rules regarding location disclosure elsewhere, although I never disclose locations explicitly - not on Facebook, not on Flickr, not anywhere. And have been rude in the past to make clear that I won’t disclose the info, so that the received message is as laconic and clear as possible. So that the potential explorer in contact could go fuck him/herself ASAP and hard.
Today – after being around abandoned places for 30+ years and pondering this for a quite some time, especially in 20/21, I’m thinking a tad differently. Do I care about Fecesbook drama? No, I’m on my way out of there for good and only my business interests hold me to that decrepit shithole, plus I can find another ways to reach local customers, so the ban affects me only in principle (first post sanitization without prior communication) that’s laid bare below.
So, my first post in that group was deleted yesterday. Basis? As it turned out when I PM’d the admin of the group for some reasoning: “You have disclosed locations on your Flickr”, which just amazes me. I upload to Flickr using external tool exclusively, and have set a Publish rule to never post GPS locations. So I went through my Flickr titles, and found out whopping 5 unique places named.
Some might argue that even this amount of information disclosure is too much, to which I wholeheartedly agree to a degree: only if the place is not in public domain, AND if there’s anything but walls and smashed windows left in there. Yesteryear I’d told you to fuck off. Today I’d do some work before doing so. I’d check your profile for signs of thorough and non-damaging interest, and will disclose the place only if some evidence is found. This is the healthier approach, in my opinion, and here’s why.
If you do some critical thinking on this idea of info non-disclosure between URBEX people, at least a couple of problems present themselves gloriously clearly, and they tend to contradict the assumption that information non-disclosure will somehow magically stop the entropy, and will keep the place up and in good health. 1) Places getting ruined or demolished anyways (entropy); 2) Places getting renovated and made boring to explorers.
I’m highly doubtful that scrappers, vandals, teens and addicts use local URBEX internet groups as their primary source of information. These places attract all these kinds of people. They use brains too, and scrappers can smell abandonment miles away, for their living depends on it, not just a silly drive to trespass and explore the living past. Teens and vandals are usually local pricks that enjoy the feeling of smashed windows and falling walls, and I can’t really blame them, it’s a ton of fun, if you look at it honestly.
I’ve been exploring long enough to see non-disclosed places destroyed by scrappers and vandals time and time again. To see how bulldozers level a premium undisclosed Soviet fallout shelter / Communications center – twice at least.
Been here long enough to experience a building getting renovated and opened to the public once again – this very picture is from that place!
And the net result of this is what exactly? What’s the message to take home?
Well, those bulldozed places are leveled, no more living history to experience and less quality pictures, because inevitably some talented photographers missed the place because of the lack of exchange of info between URBEXers. So - fewer enthusiasts got to experience those places and… that’s about it.
And this particular piece I’m posting – it’s Spilves lidosta in Latvia, an Airport that’s an example of premium Stalin's neoclassical architecture in an awesome shape. Only some boarded windows and that’s about it. Why it was in such a pristine condition when we visited it in 2010 and managed to get in? Well, because it was a tad harder to access (some activity on runways and around, and a very naked/open place, no hiding to be had) and guarded the whole time: security personnel, cameras and all that sweet Jazz for us to bypass non-destructively. Today this airport is available to the public and the net result is? Well, less explorers got to experience the place and take pics on their own terms, and access now inaccessible areas.
You tell me if this approach isn’t damaging to URBEX movement as a whole? I see a whole lot of Ego masturbation in this too, and it’s ugly. Because scrappers will find their scrap, vandals will find their stuff to smash, and owners or the city will one day demolish or renovate our URBEX sites, and we will move on, trying to protect this information from ourselves.
Jessops Pan 100S scanned with Plustek 7600i Ai.
Another submission IC Enjoy the stories! ( written by Folly)
The Doc is Sin- An experience from a viewer
Everyone knows about the doctor, he's kind of a legend in my hometown. I live in a fairly poor area, you know? And getting to the doctor has never been easy. Fact of the matter is, about the only time people were willing to go to the doctor for anything before he showed up was if it was an emergency. Bleeding from the eyeballs or ass or something like, the kinda thing that probably should have gone earlier for.
Doctor's visits ain't cheap though, so people put it off. Then the doc came to town, set up a nice little clinic in a nice little building and all that changed. He was willing to work with people that couldn't afford it, the poorer folks, hell even the homeless. He'd let people work off their bills. Cleaning up around the place, tidying things and the like. Simple stuff but it took off from his work load and let him save money he'd have had to spend on extra help.
So yeah, safe to say he was a popular man around these parts. Could even call him something of a local saint almost, so when he disappeared, just up and vanished one day, you can imagine the uproar that followed. People were confused, upset, running up and down all the stages of grief and back again. There was no sign of what happened, or where he'd gone, and he'd never made any hints to wanting to leave. Even with the whole town searching, and the police investigating, nobody ever found out what it was that happened to him, or where he might've went.
Time passed and the clinic changed hands. Went from a place of healing to a place of death. Now don't that sound over dramatic? When I say a place of death, I just mean a morgue. Stayed that way for a few years until the county coughed up the money for a better building and off it moved and the place was left empty. I don't imagine anybody wanted to run a business out of a former morgue, especially don't imagine anybody wanting to live in one. Well, nobody around here at any rate.
With the place abandoned, and the history it had, it wasn't too long before teens - and hell adults that should have known better - started sneaking in to take a peek. Friends would dare each other to go in and grab something, or go in and stay in for so long. Go in and stay overnight.
No on had done that last before. Sure people would talk a big game, but when it came down to it every single one chickened out. Understandable, yeah. Didn't stop them from getting mocked at every turn though.
Maybe you've guessed it by now, maybe you haven't, but I was one of those adults that should know better, with friends that should also damn well know better, that dared each other to go in. Mostly when we were pretty plastered. We'd been upping the dares each time we gave them, and about a week and half, closer to two weeks ago really, one of my friends finally laid out the big one. Staying in the morgue overnight.
Of course, *of course*, my drunk ass had to go and say yes. Because drunk me is an idiot and should never be allowed to make any sort of major decisions. My friends know this, the fuckers, and if ever anything were a major decision it would be spending the goddamned night in an abandoned morgue.
Being the helpful people they are, the soberest one among us drove us there and sorta poured me through the door of the morgue, with promises that they'd stay outside all night, and advice that was mostly variations of "Make sure to scream if something eats you". Because they're helpful..
The first hour was the easiest, I was still three sheets to the wind and not scared of a damned thing. Also I was still laying where they plopped me inside. Drunk me thought the raggedy ass carpet was comfortable, and had spent most of the time on the floor trying to make dust angels, and yelling out to my friends, every so often, reports on my not being eaten.
The second hour was where it started to get difficult. I was sobering up, and didn't have any liquid courage on hand to get my buzzed bravery back. The only thing that kept me from running back outside was the idea of my friends, and the sheer amount of dickishness I'd have to put up with from them if I ran out now.
Besides, I told myself, I'd been in there about an hour already and nothing had happened. Besides me stirring up an ungodly amount of dust. It was a creepy building sure, but nothing was going to happen.
Bravery back-ish, I decided I might as well explore a bit. To be honest I wasn't all the curious about the place, but at the time I figured that if I could grab a little souvenir from somewhere further in the building, that'd really stick it to the assholes I called my friends.
Where I'd been dropped off, once I finally got to looking around, I realized was basically one big hallway with five doors. Two on the left, two on the right, and one at the very end of the hall. Signs next to them helpfully explained what each room. First door on the left, changing room, second door on the left Postmortem & Autopsy.
On the right was the Viewing Room and Body Store. And at the very end of the hall, the sign next to the door read Consultant Office. Seeing as how that one didn't seem to have ever had bodies stored in them, that was the one I went with, seeing as how an office was likely to be the least terrifying.
Inside it was... Pretty boring actually. It had obviously been an office, there was a filing cabinet, but the cabinets were open and long empty. A very dead potted plant stood in the corner, and the far wall was growling at me.
Yeah, if you did a double take, had to re-read that last one, imagine how I felt standing in that room and realizing what I was hearing. Of course *then* I realized it wasn't the wall growling, it was something behind it scratching, loudly, that my addled brain mistook for growling at first. Which made me feel just, oodles better, obviously.
Now, remember when I said drunk me is an idiot? Well, so is mostly sober me I guess, because instead of doing the smart thing and noping right the hell out of there, I decided, and why I still don't fucking know, that it would be a great idea to investigate the weird wall with someone scratching around behind it like some Nancy Drew wannabe.
So there I stood, shining my cell phone at the wall and poking at it, generally looking like a dumbass, when the scratching stops, just completely goes silent, and the wall starts creaking.
Now of course I back right up, because the creaking sound is the wall *moving*, and I did not sign up for moving walls. Of course, my natural sense of curiosity and general lack of self preservation overwhelm my caution and I move in closer to examine the wall, well, doorway I guess.
Shining my light inside, I can see a ste of stairs. Not some dramatic spiralling nonsense you'd see in a movie, just, six or so steps, and of course I'm curious. And *of course* I'm heading down there, for the before mentioned reasons of being kind of an idiot.
Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting to find down there. Maybe a food cellar, or an angry racoon or something. What I was not expecting to find was what the beam of light from my phone uncovered when I reached the bottom step.
In the center of the room was a hospital bed outfitted with manacles. That, in itself, was weird enough and had me wanting to just scurry my ass back upstairs, but the wall just behind it caught my eye. It was basically one big coarkboard, and it was covered in pictures.
Of course I got closer, we've discussed the idiocy and my total embrace of it. I was a little freaked out, but more than that I was curious. And honestly I figured that maybe this was some sorta secret sex dungeon. Morgue employees needed love too. Or hell, maybe this had been the doctors secret before he vanished.
So, yeah, imagining an illicit romance or something spelled out in the pictures, I got closer to take a look. And after only a few pictures began to really, really, really wish I hadn't.
The first picture my light shined on, on the far left of the board, had been innocuous enough. Just a man in a hospital gown standing on front of what I'm pretty sure was that very board. It was empty, so I think he was the first picture taken. He looked a little nervous in the picture, had his shoulders hunched up, and he was kinda twisted away from the camera. Written under it in the white margin was "SPM - 1".
I didn't have a clue what that meant, still don't honestly, and it wasn't a very interesting picture so on to the next I went, which had the same label written under it. The second was a little different. It was the same man, naked now, but he was strapped into the bed in the center of the room. His hands were in the manacles, and his feet and legs were strapped down, and he looked kinda like he'd been crying, or was in the middle of crying maybe when the picture was taken.
It was when my light scanned the third that things went sideways. It was the same man as the previous two pictures, and he was still on that bed, but his stomach was cut open. Hell, his everything was cut open, and what I'm pretty fucking sure was a loop of intestines had been pulled out and very neatly stacked on a small table next to it, and the poor bastard was looking right at it in the picture.
I don't know how alert he was, but he was still very much alive when that picture was taken. The other pictures I saw, weren't much better. Some were a hell of a lot worse in fact.
One, a picture of a woman labelled 'SPM - 7', started the same. First picture standing, shying away from the camera. Second picture strapped to the bed, arms looking like she'd been jerking them mid photo. And the third, her arms were gone. And her eyes were gone. Very neatly gone for both, but gone. A dogs head had been sewn onto her neck, looked like a German shep. maybe, with the tongue lolling out. And the woman's mouth was open and her face was twisted like maybe she'd been screaming when the picture was taken. I'm not super certain, mostly because by that point I was throwing up everything that had previosly been in my stomach.
It was while I was vomiting up my very soul that I heard that scratching sound again, closer this time, coming from near the bed in fact. When I finally managed to look up I saw what was making the sound. The manacles on the bed sliding and jerking back, like some invisible hands were caught in them and trying to get free.
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