We Are Hot Chicks Wednesday: Miss Monica Bellucci

Monica Bellucci has starred in a number of films I am unfamiliar with. They're out there; I just ain't seen 'em. I did happen to catch "The Matrix: Reloaded." Several times. Her scene -- she plays Persephone and is married to a French douche bag -- kicks more ass than any team playing the Yankees this month. She's smokin'. If I were Trinity, I'd've been jealous of Persephone's lips wrapped 'round Neo's package, too. One of these days, her hotness will get me around to watching "The Passion," "Brothers Grimm," or something else she's been in. For now, though, let's just have a nice long study hall of some Bellucci imagery.





Yes. This looks like a fine place to start. The always-sensual strands of hair across the face. The strange ensemble of patchwork clothing she appears to be discarding (always a big fan). The mesmerizing rack. Arms raised innocently over head. The I-know-you're-just-gonna-pound-the-shit-out-of-me gaze. Luscious lips, and, did I mention the chest? Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.




Even better. The garment's gone. Arms back down in feigned modesty. Turned to the side, as in headed towards the bed -- or the top of the air conditioning unit in the back yard if that's how you roll -- with a gaze that now says "Hurry up, you hot provider of meast. Mama needs her medicine." She's also seized the opportunity to cup one of those luscious man pacifiers, and adjusted her hair to imply she'll need a banging after her banging. Good stuff.




To color photography and to Green Bellucci. No. Really. That was a toast. Drink to that shit, homes. Love them skivvies. And mid-section. And part in between mid-section and neck that I've already mentioned twice. She's got a knack for face-makin', too. Yikes. That face-making exercise there makes me think her baby-makin' skills might'nt be far behind.




Speaking of faces, sweet Jesus. Or, sweet baby Jesus, as Cecil would say. Digits in orifice makes Daddy happy. So does that ridiculously sexy red hoodie. I'll bet she's got a small picture of her self taped to the inside of that hood. She's most likely looking at that picture in this picture thinking to herself, damn, I'm hot. That thing they say about pictures saying something about words...whatever it is, is true.




A few years back --2003 I think it was -- we was rollin' through my hood after the Kansas City Chiefs special teams did not clip the Denver Broncos three times in the same kickoff return, permitting Dante Hall to take it to the house for the game-winner. We were hungry for some Popeye's chicken. I had a jersey on. So did my three Bronco comrades. After we placed our order, the young woman not quite as hot as Monica Bellucci asked me why I hung out with them but didn't match their jersey? I explained to her the importance of rooting for the home team, then asked her why she (apparently) didn't like the Chiefs. Her answer went a little exactly like this, "First of all, I don't even like red." Don't forget token letter-C-shaped wave of her hand in front of my across-the-counter face. If, oh proud baker of biscuits, you find yourself floating through these here HoG pages, I think now you'll be forced to disagree. Peeking nips. Steamy glass. I just shuddered typing that. Oo, and my shorts are a little damp, too.




I don't know what's going on here, but me likey. Anytime we mess ourselves at the same time, sign me up to the mailing list. Huge fan. I have no idea if that's paint or tar or beads. I am pretty certain, though, that I'm well-qualified to apply and remove said mystery substance.




A bit odd. Yes. But it works. Especially when I pretend that thumbnail (yes, that actual nail on her thumb) is busy tweaking nip. Grr. That open, above-cleavage area reminds me of my map of 49 American states. The only thing missing is Hawaii.



So she's got a thing with her arms over her head. Wanna fight about it? Just pretend they're expert hands, skilled in the art of headboard clutching. Yeah. See? That's what I thought. Oh, and I just bought 467,000 shares of stock in any and every thing mesh.



I'm always in favor of getting one step closer to nakedness. Night or day, really. It's a nice effect. Leaving something for the imagination is always in everyone's best interest. And everyone's best interest clearly involves not copying and pasting this link: http://meedown.com/d/15478-2/Monica-Bellucci-71.JPG