Shaved is on 130+ scenes, about 21% of Tushy, mostly from the earlier years: 38 in 2019, the fullest, and a single scene so far in 2026. Greg Lansky directed 57 of them. Cumshot and cowgirl scenes carry it at roughly twice the average rate. Mick Blue features as the male partner in 41 of them.
Jessie stood in the bedroom doorway, one hand on the frame, the other twisting the hem of her tank top. Her boyfriend sat on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the way her shorts hugged the curve of her ass. That look had been getting hungrier every week. She finally understood why. He had always been careful, almost polite, when his fingers brushed lower, but lately his touch lingered, pressed, asked. She made up her mind right there. She peeled the tank off, let it fall, then stepped out of the shorts. Nothing underneath. The room felt cooler on bare skin. She walked to him, slow, hips loose. When she reached him she dropped to her knees, palms sliding up his thighs until she found the hard line of his cock through his jeans. She opened his fly, pulled him out, gave one long lick from base to tip, then took him deep. Wet sounds filled the quiet room. She worked him until he throbbed on her tongue, then let him slip free, strings of spit still connecting them. She turned, hands on the mattress, ass raised. He didn’t need instructions. Spit-slick fingers found her tight ring, circled, pressed. One finger eased inside, then two, stretching her open with patient, steady strokes. Her breath hitched every time he pushed deeper. He pulled his fingers free, lined up, and started to sink in. The first thick inch made her gasp; the rest followed slow, relentless, until his hips met her cheeks. He fucked her ass in long, measured thrusts, one hand gripping her hip, the other reaching under to roll her clit. She pushed back to meet every stroke, the slap of skin sharp in the air. When he pulled out she spun around without hesitation, took him straight from her ass into her mouth, sucking him clean, tongue swirling over every inch. The taste, the heat, the dirtiness of it made her moan around his shaft. She dropped lower, nuzzled his balls, sucked one into her mouth, then the other, tongue lapping while her fist stroked his spit-wet cock. He groaned, hips twitching. She switched back to his shaft, took him to the back of her throat, then turned again, offering her ass once more. He sank in harder this time, pace picking up, balls swinging heavy against her. She reached back, spread herself wider for him, letting him watch every inch disappear. He pulled out again and she spun, mouth open, taking him straight down. Another slow suck, another lick at his balls while her fingers traced the slick head. When he couldn’t hold back anymore she stayed on her knees, stroking him fast, aiming him at her tongue. He came in thick pulses, and she swallowed every drop, licking him clean afterward, soft kisses pressed to his still-twitching cock.
Jessie stood in the bedroom doorway, one hand on the frame, the other twisting the hem of her tank top. Her boyfriend sat on the edge of the bed, eyes locked on the way her shorts hugged the curve of her ass. That look had been getting hungrier every week. She finally understood why. He had always been careful, almost polite, when his fingers brushed lower, but lately his touch lingered, pressed, asked. She made up her mind right there. She peeled the tank off, let it fall, then stepped out of the shorts. Nothing underneath. The room felt cooler on bare skin. She walked to him, slow, hips loose. When she reached him she dropped to her knees, palms sliding up his thighs until she found the hard line of his cock through his jeans. She opened his fly, pulled him out, gave one long lick from base to tip, then took him deep. Wet sounds filled the quiet room. She worked him until he throbbed on her tongue, then let him slip free, strings of spit still connecting them. She turned, hands on the mattress, ass raised. He didn’t need instructions. Spit-slick fingers found her tight ring, circled, pressed. One finger eased inside, then two, stretching her open with patient, steady strokes. Her breath hitched every time he pushed deeper. He pulled his fingers free, lined up, and started to sink in. The first thick inch made her gasp; the rest followed slow, relentless, until his hips met her cheeks. He fucked her ass in long, measured thrusts, one hand gripping her hip, the other reaching under to roll her clit. She pushed back to meet every stroke, the slap of skin sharp in the air. When he pulled out she spun around without hesitation, took him straight from her ass into her mouth, sucking him clean, tongue swirling over every inch. The taste, the heat, the dirtiness of it made her moan around his shaft. She dropped lower, nuzzled his balls, sucked one into her mouth, then the other, tongue lapping while her fist stroked his spit-wet cock. He groaned, hips twitching. She switched back to his shaft, took him to the back of her throat, then turned again, offering her ass once more. He sank in harder this time, pace picking up, balls swinging heavy against her. She reached back, spread herself wider for him, letting him watch every inch disappear. He pulled out again and she spun, mouth open, taking him straight down. Another slow suck, another lick at his balls while her fingers traced the slick head. When he couldn’t hold back anymore she stayed on her knees, stroking him fast, aiming him at her tongue. He came in thick pulses, and she swallowed every drop, licking him clean afterward, soft kisses pressed to his still-twitching cock.
