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Allmighty

Profile views: 3678
Fanbase: 86

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Signed up: 12 years and 3 months ago
Images viewed: 23172
Images uploaded: 12840

Gender: Male
Sexual orientation: Straight

Birth: 14/03/1990

Last Online: 2 hours ago

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Roo1987 Comments: 2,396	Commented on Jul 29, 2026 "such sexy little titties"

dining69 Comments: 1,697	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "Chloe just noticed that Peyton List, one of her favorite little lesbian fantasy fucktoy girls, is at the same resort as she is. When Peyton went to use the restroom, she followed her. After a few short minutes of watching her amazing swaying tight little teen ass, Chloe took the teen to a vacant coat room where she fully made out with her while mauling her cute little perky teen breasts, licked, fingered and ate her delicious trimmed blonde teen pussy to multiple orgasms, sat on her face soaking her, like fully drenching because she squirts when she cums and filling Peyton's mouth and stomach with her hot pussy cum, then fucked her senseless with her twelve inch strap-on dildo in all three of her holes while taking pictures for future uses and bribes. https://www.imagefap.com/photo/2128779093/?pgid="

dining69 Comments: 1,697	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "But I don't want fuck guys, I just want to fuck girls, lots and lots of girls. Jeez. Well? Oh god, fine, but I want to fuck his Mommy, both his sisters, all his Aunts and his Gramma after."

CelebGoon69 Comments: 162	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "so insanely fucking good"

CelebGoon69 Comments: 162	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "kiernan and chloe would be the perfect threesome material. they're both so fuckable in this photo, it's insane"

Bristollyi Comments: 759	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "Love her sexy legs in heels !"

Bristollyi Comments: 759	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "God ! So powerfull with those thick heels"

CelebGoon69 Comments: 162	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "fuck yes, this album is so awesome"

kiscsirke96 Comments: 513	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "Chloe Grace Moretz stood on the red carpet in full command of the image she had chosen. She was well into her twenties, yet every detail of her appearance was a deliberate, practiced performance of the barely-eighteen fantasy she had turned into a career. Perfect blonde curls fell in soft, youthful waves around her face. The makeup was heavy and preciseâ€”smoky eyes, flushed cheeks, glossy pink lipsâ€”engineered to make her look dewy, fresh, and just legal enough to keep the kink alive. She knew exactly what it did to people. She had built years of attention on it. The dress was not short. It was not plunging. A fitted, high-necked red number hugged her from collarbone to mid-thigh, modest by any standard. On her small body it became pure provocation. The fabric clung to the modest swell of her breasts, outlining their soft shape with every breath. It traced the narrow dip of her waist, the gentle flare of her hips, the tight, rounded curve of her ass. When she walked, the material shifted against her soft thighs and the delicate line where they met, never showing more than it should, yet leaving nothing to the imagination for anyone who knew how to look. Photographers surged. Lenses clicked in a frenzy. She smiled for themâ€”slow, proud, almost playfulâ€”and the message was unmistakable. She felt the eyes. She felt the heat in the air. Men who had followed her since her early roles were hard just from the stills, and she knew it. The barely-eighteen kink was not a secret to her; it was a tool she wielded with precision. She cultivated the soft, youthful body that still looked like it belonged on the edge of adulthood: small, high breasts that sat perfectly under the dress, a waist so narrow it invited hands, hips that flared just enough to stretch the fabric when she turned, and an ass that looked made to be gripped even while the hem stayed respectable. She had spent years refining this imageâ€”diet, training, the exact shade of lipstick, the exact bounce of the curlsâ€”because it worked. It sold. It kept the thirst alive long after most actresses of her age had moved on to other brands. A reporter leaned in, microphone extended. â€œChloe, this look is intense. Whatâ€™s the inspiration behind it?â€ She tilted her head, curls shifting, and gave a little laugh that was pure calculation. â€œI no longer play with Barbie. I become one. And itâ€™s fun to see the reactions.â€ The line landed exactly as she intended. Within the hour the photos would flood every corner of the internet. Fans would lose their minds. Thirst posts would pile up. Men would admit in comment sections and private chats that the combination of the heavy makeup, the perfect blonde curls, and that tightly fitted dress on her small frame had them throbbing. Chloe knew. She had always known. The cunning part was never denying it. She leaned into the fantasy, fed it, and made a career out of the precise tension between her real age and the barely-eighteen body she continued to present. Later, alone in her suite, she stood in front of the mirror still wearing the dress and studied the same reflection the cameras had captured. She ran her hands slowly down her sides, feeling the soft give of her breasts, the narrow waist, the curve of her hips and ass under the red fabric. The look still worked on her own eyes. She knew how it would look if the zipper slid down, if the dress peeled away from warm skin, if those small breasts spilled free and the rest of her soft, youthful body was bare. She knew the effect it createdâ€”the tight, delicate heat between her thighs that the fantasy always promised. She had built an entire public image around that promise, and she intended to keep delivering it for as long as the kink stayed hungry. Chloe Grace Moretz did not need to flash skin. She only needed the right hair, the right makeup, the right fitted dress, and the quiet knowledge that every photographer, every fan, and every man who still jacked off to the idea of her was exactly where she wanted them. One cunning actress who had turned the barely-eighteen look into a long, lucrative, deliberately maintained career." kiscsirke96 \| Jul 28, 2026 Part 2: Chloe stood under the Comic-Con lights in the fitted white blouse and short plaid skirt, blonde curls a little messy, shifting her weight like she still wasn't used to so many eyes on her. "Okay, um... hi," she started, soft and a little breathless. "So some people say I play the innocent teen girl card on purpose. That I use your kinky desires. That I know exactly what this body does when I wear things like this." She glanced down at the short skirt, then back up with wide eyes. "Oh geez... you naughty boys have desires for little ol' me?" She batted her lashes, took a small step that made the plaid hem hike higher up her soft thighs for a clear second. In that same split second her mouth curved into a smile that was pure knowing-sharp, pleased, completely aware of what she was doing and how much she liked it-before the shy expression slid back into place. "An act? Wanting your desire?" she asked, biting her lower lip, voice still light and almost confused. "I don't know... my body just stays so small and soft. Narrow waist, little breasts that push against the blouse if I breathe too deep, hips that barely flare, and this ass that makes skirts ride up when I move without meaning to. I keep telling myself I'll be more careful, but then I turn or lean and suddenly there's more of me showing than I planned... and you all get so quiet and intense." She rocked on her heels, the picture of clumsy innocence while the glint in her eyes stayed sharp. "It's embarrassing. But also kind of nice? Having a body that still looks like it just turned eighteen no matter what role they give me. Heroine, daughter, secretary... it always ends up feeling the same. And the way you look at me when it happens..." She let out a tiny, breathy laugh. "You naughty boys make it really hard to pretend I don't notice." The hall was already loud. Chloe held the mic close, cheeks pink, lips still caught between her teeth, fully in control of the tease she had just delivered.

kiscsirke96 Comments: 513	Commented on Jul 28, 2026 "Josh watched from the dunes as Chloe Moretz laughed with her friends on the bright beach. The tiny, barely-there red bikini clung to her petite frame-narrow waist, soft modest breasts, and that small round ass that barely filled the bottoms. At barely eighteen she still looked like she might for years to come, the kind of delicate, youthful body that made every movement dangerous. The fabric slid with every jump and twist, riding up, slipping sideways, flashing pale skin and the smooth curve of her hips. He waited, hyper-focused, thumb resting on the side of the time-freeze watch. Then she leapt onto a friend's back. The guy's hand shot up instinctively to steady her, palm spreading one small cheek. The red triangle of her bikini bottom shifted aside. For a perfect second her delicate folds were bare to the sun and salt air-pink, soft, completely exposed. Josh pressed the button. Everything stopped. Waves hung mid-crest. Friends froze mid-laugh. Chloe hung in the air, body arched over the other boy's shoulders, legs parted just enough, the little red scrap of fabric still tugged aside. Her soft, young body was locked at the ideal height and angle. He walked through the silent tableau, cock already thick and aching. Up close she looked even smaller, skin smooth and warm under the frozen sunlight, not cold at all-still living heat trapped in stasis. He freed himself, stroked once, then stepped in behind her. One hand settled on the narrow flare of her hip. The other guided the flushed head of his cock to the soft, exposed slit. He sank in slowly. Her young, tight pussy opened for him with a delicate spasm, walls fluttering and gripping as if she could still feel it. Inch by careful inch he pushed deeper until his hips met the soft undersides of her small ass. She was so snug it almost hurt in the best way-hot, silky, and impossibly narrow. He stayed still for a long moment, just breathing against the nape of her neck, feeling the heat of her soft body around him. Then he began to move. Not rough. Never rough. Long, slow thrusts that let him feel every ridge and soft fold inside her. He spooned tightly against her petite frame, chest to her back, one arm wrapped around her middle so his palm could cup a small, soft breast through the tiny red triangle. The other hand stayed on her hip, guiding the gentle rock of his cock in and out of that perfect teenage tightness. Each withdrawal left her folds clinging, shiny and stretched; each push filled her completely again. He fucked her like that for a long time-measured, almost reverent strokes that made her small body shift minutely in the frozen air. Soft thighs trembled against his. The smooth skin of her lower belly warmed under his hand. He could feel the delicate pulse of her walls every time he bottomed out. Her petite ass pressed back into him, soft and yielding. He nuzzled the side of her neck, breathing in the scent of sunscreen and salt and clean girl, and kept thrusting, slow and deep, savoring every slick inch. When the first orgasm built he didn't rush it. He simply buried himself to the root and let it roll through him. Thick pulses of cum flooded her tight channel, one after another, filling the narrow space until it began to leak around his shaft in warm rivulets that ran down her soft inner thighs. He stayed hard. Stayed inside. Kept moving. The second load came only a few minutes later-longer, heavier, forced deeper by the slow grinding of his hips. He watched the soft curve of her lower belly, imagining the heat pooling there, and kept fucking. Her frozen body took everything without protest, walls still spasming faintly around him as if the pleasure was trying to reach her even through the stopped time. He lost count after that. Load after load, minutes stretching into a long, luxurious stretch of pure release. Each climax left him throbbing and oversensitive, yet he never pulled out. He simply kept the gentle rhythm going-soft skin sliding against soft skin, the wet sounds of their joined bodies the only noise on the silent beach. Cum coated her folds, dripped from the place where they were joined, painted the insides of her thighs in pearly streaks. Still he fucked her, slow and deep, lost in the delicate give of her young body. Only when he was finally empty, cock still twitching inside the overflowing heat of her, did he ease back. He straightened her bikini bottom with careful fingers, smoothed the fabric over the sticky mess he had left, then stepped away. One last look at the soft, petite form hanging frozen in the air-small breasts rising with the last held breath, thighs glossed, the faintest tremor still locked in her muscles-and he pressed the button again. Time snapped forward. All the pleasure, every thrust, every thick pulse of cum, every slow drag of his cock against her sensitive walls slammed into Chloe at once. Her eyes flew wide, then glazed over. A broken, high sound tore from her throat as her body convulsed hard. The massive, unearned orgasm ripped through her so violently she slipped from her friend's shoulders and crumpled into the sand. She lay there on her side, petite frame shaking, thighs pressed tight together as wave after wave of climax rolled through her. Soft belly fluttered. Small breasts heaved under the tiny red triangles. Her hips jerked helplessly against nothing. Clear fluid and the thick evidence of what had been done to her slicked the insides of her thighs and soaked the crotch of her bikini. Her eyes stayed cloudy, unfocused, pupils blown wide as the endless pleasure kept crashing over her for a full minute. Friends dropped to their knees around her, voices rising in worry, but Chloe could only gasp and tremble, soft young body still locked in the aftershocks of an orgasm she could not understand, the taste of salt and the phantom stretch of a cock she never saw still echoing through every delicate nerve."

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