Lick My Ass, Blow Into It Too

Goodness. Stian Elberd is going to fuck me doggy style this very night. The cogitation and reflection makes me all ecstatic and on cloud nine, fluttering and winking and twinkling my eyes at full speed and at a rate of knots like I am going to pay a visit and be the guest of a most awesome and jim-dandy locus and vicinity. Isn’t that just great and ideal? I think it definitely and unquestionably is in any case. I don’t know about you or your feeling and notion about it. I truthfully and from the bottom of my heart don’t have any kind and form of knowledge about that at all…

Duh. I am stooped down and bowed on my knees on the elevation and facet of our bed, totally disrobed and undraped or stark-naked behind as I am frocked and gowned in nothing but a cursory and pint-sized dress. It is a very knee-high-to-a-gnat design and brand and model of the mini-skirt itself that uncovers and lays bare to Stian’s congenial and enjoyable view my large and bulky bottom and jacksy as well as my sugary and sweetened vulva and vagina. Yeah. I can hear him moan and groan to himself groggily-like and tunefully and musically as he checks out and leers inaudibly and mutely at my undressed  and buck without-a-stitch-on bulky and rich derrière and arse. I love it. Don’t you?

“Yah,” Stian grumbles and bleats to himself, talking under his breath to be clear-cut and exact as he polls and studies my behind, striking and whacking it with his fingers even. My goodness. I am enjoying and reveling in this so much…being cuffed and walloped and laid one on in that topping and ace and bodacious way. It grasps and pinches and knocks off all my breath away. Is it usual and conventional? I believe and conceive so myself. Sincerely speaking. 

“Do you like it, baby?” Stian inquires me whilst amusing and capering and frisking his hands about with my ass and my much-loved and priceless ass pit itself as well as my inestimable and dear vagina and clitoris itself. Holy goodness! It all feels and tastes so brilliant and divine indeed. I do not ever want this to break off or nip in the bud. Not at all. Hello? Is someone poring over these warrigal, nuts, and unfettered words of mine? Is someone scanning and deciphering all this?

In and out, in and out, Stian gently and coolly stirs his finger into and outside of my muff and pussy, burdening and ailing me with that fierce and excessive want and hankering to catch and seize and haul and wrest viciously and roughly that ever great and huge and gargantuan dick and humungous penis of his so that it strikes and batters and bashes and whacks and swats and belts into the very deepness and profundity of my crack and punani, bestowing and supplying me with all too much delectation and contentment that I cannot wholly and totally absorb and swill up. Or can I devour and consume it all? I don’t think so myself…

“Stian,” I weep and mewl out to him, all tears and wailing.

“Yes, Ragnhild,” as he responds and takes the bait back to me, he talks and natters in a very treacly and euphonic voice that smashes and bursts and implodes about all my faculty and aura. My atmosphere and sensibility is so shattered and knocked for six right now that I don’t ever think that it will be workable and feasible for it to mend and patch up again. Or is it?

“I can’t take this, Stian,” I boohoo and whimper out to him, oscillating and vibrating and pulsating and reverberating both carnally and fleshly to the cadence and rhythm that his constant and uninterrupted jiggling and joggling of his hands on my hulking and gigantic arse and his fingers on my rapt and stoked muff and cunt is making me be. This is the best thing ever. But the delectation and enjoyment present is all too extreme and doubled up for me to take and hold up and also keep up with. Yes. It is that too much severe and utmost for me. It really and truly is.

“Fine,” he mentions and then lets fall and submerges his steep, piping soprano-like voice to a lowborn and plebeian breath and mere swish sough murmur or whisper in spare words. “Take my cock in that sugary, ready cunt of yours. Here it comes.”

I am all oversweet and sugared too maudlin as the words are uttered and voiced to me; I don’t know how to precisely respond.  And as my much gorgeous and handsome Stian pegs down his zip and breaks his back brusquely and shoofly just so to take and slip out his mammoth, all too leading and paramount cock from his attractively and charmingly formulated and tailored underwear, I sigh and take a wide, intense breath out, knowing what it is that is precisely going to present itself to me. I cannot get away and break free from it. In fact, I fancy and long for it so very much to occur and come off to me. It is all I want right this very moment and nothing else.

Leisurely; smoothly; properly; warmly and lovingly; Stian rubs and pats his jumbo, monstrous phallus and vagina plonker on the edges and rims and lips and flanges and brinks of my cunt and beaver before he without warning and like a shot pierces an penetrates and drills his sharp, full erection into me. I love it so very much. That moment he works and carries out that to me, I am all melted and liquidized and fused and fluxed into this one great and molten runny conglomeration and load of enjoyment and delectation. Who could not enjoy this anyway? I am taking pleasure and relishing in all this myself. Nothing could be much better…nothing at all…

“Arghhh! Arghhh! Arghhhh!” I shout and howl and shriek out as Stian raps and strokes and thumps into me, tipping over and capsizing streams and surges and sploshes of spermatic honey and fluid each time before he seeks and has a go at pulling out of me, but not having the bravura and gallantry to do so. Yeah. It is all so, so delightful and lovable.