Sex Du Juor: Porn Games

Whilst in Stian’s office…

It is dim and gloomy; all so shadowy and lightless. I can not glimpse or make out anything at all with my bodily eyes. I cannot perceive and sight Stian Elbert…my very own possessed and pleasantly handsome spouse. Of course! He is somewhere here with me in this bulky, sumptuous murky room of his office here at Rovich Central Hospital. I feel like I am all alone in the whole world; all alone…with no one to stand by my side and alleviate and assist me out in any class of dealing and commerce at all.

The door squeals close and the padlock snaps and clinks instantaneously. My goodness! What could that be? Stian—or someone else locking us up inside here?

“Stian,” I yell out, worried and appalled at the same time.

He answers straight away from somewhere about in this immense gloominess where I cannot see. It seems that he is behind me…if I am not misguided and in the wrong. Nonetheless, I make out and faultlessly comprehend what he is saying out to me with my ears. “Yes, Mrs. Ragnhild Ascwin Elberd. What it is that you want to declare to your husband?”

“Stian, where are you?” My breath glitches and hitches out piercingly. I am astound and alarmed at the same time. When are the lights ever going to come back? Since the long-ago five minutes or so, every room inside the gigantic and mammoth hospital—a skyscraper made of untainted ravishing glass with fifteen floors and over six hundred massive rooms in it—had been dispossessed of electricity and left us in the dim and unfamiliar as an outcome. I am outlandishly starting to become frightened and horrified. Damn me for it!

From behind me, Stian reaches me, knocking himself against me intentionally and seizing me close and tight toward himself. How is he able to glimpse and spot me in this infinite gathering and mound of darkness while I myself cannot see anything at all? Is it a paranormal or mystical endowment of his or what? I cannot tell…

At a snail's pace and quietly, his hand attains for my gear—I am wearing a tawny-colored trousers suit—and he yanks my trousers down warily so as to bring my within scarlet panties before his reach and have himself without difficulty locate his probing fingers straight into my vagina and shocked pussy as an effect. Arghhhh! This is so abrupt and so unanticipated. I was not expecting it at all. And it is all so sweet and pleasurable. But do we have to be doing this here in his office in the first place?

Arghhhh…His fingers mine and quarry deeper into my vagina, rousing and whipping it up to the pleasure and enjoyment, pitching about helplessly in the substance mass progressively and leisurely and conscientiously nice. I like the way that his fingers rub and scuff deep into my sex. It is like he knows the exact points and spots to tap as well as how to fondle and caress them. Of course, the way his fingers feel and stroke my inside is this astonishingly very poles-apart and unusual indeed. I wonder for how long he has been doing this. A year? Maybe two or three? Or for as long as he gained knowledge of how to lay a dick into a woman’s cunt and beat and whip it about aggressively and frantically inside there?

Arghhhh…Stian reaches down to snog and smacker my neck from behind me. With one hand, he cuddles and has fun with the edges of my enormous breast nipples; which I love and find irresistible so very much. Ashhhh! There is just a certain itching and prickling sensation to his fingers fiddling on my breasts that I cannot assist and help in any way probable. We are in a great lot deal of darkness…and yet we are having and enjoying sex so very much. This tastes like heaven indeed. I luv it!

Faster; quicker; and more rapidly; Stian burrows and nudges deeper and more quicker into me with his fingers from the other hand, generating and crafting and building such a grand and high-speed locomotion that produces and spawns inside me immense and bonfire-like happiness and contentment. Ashooo-h! Deeper and more deeper his fingers travel about and survey into the depths of my vagina, arousing me and preparing me up for an even greater and hotter fucking. My God! I want to be fucked and spanked up real hard and real high-quality right now. My vagina is geared up and all set to receive and amuse and put up with his humongous and GR8 penis. It is all soaked and drenched already.

“Arghhhh!” I whine out, at last unable to hold the great delight I am experiencing to myself. Stian takes heed of it, and I can visualize him grinning and smirking wickedly behind me in this insurmountable cloud of darkness ingesting us. Yes. He likes it so very much when I undergo and stumble upon good quality orgasms. That consistently makes him seem like an actual and authentic man who is able and knows very well how to thrill and make happy a woman. What style of underwear is he dressed in today? I have a deranged mania and fixation of men’s sexy undies, I must come clean to you. I like the way that their delectable and lip-smacking thighs are stripped nude and uncovered as well as the luscious and appetizing approach that their butts and bottoms are attired and arrayed shapely and satisfactorily. That picture drives me sexually and lustfully nuts, I must acknowledge. I can never resist or turn away from it. Is it normal and up-to-standard of me? I do not care. Who is one hundred per cent normal and faultless in this world of ours? No one at all; come hell or high water.

“Shit,” Stian puts this into words in my ears, murmuring softly to be precise. I am keen on it whenever he nibbles and gnaws into ear. I all the time adore it; and this, merged and combined with the fingering and sweeping up of his fingers inside my pussy—it is just plain twofold and two-times bliss and delight indeed. Uhhhh! I enter my first round of orgasm while he carries on, “You are soggy so soon…that is good quality, Ragnhild. I am going to fuck you in no time from now.”

“Fuck me already, Stian,” I make known reverse to him. “Fuck me hard and tough indeed. I can’t wait for my cunt to receive that ever giant dick of yours. Put it inside of me. I beg you.”

“You are begging me to rumpo you up, aren’t you?”

“Do it now. I cannot wait.” That precise moment, he shoves me from where I am standing, spinning me around as he does this until I batter my back on a well-built wall, walloping and whacking my head against it what’s more and I notice Stian make it to me afterwards, and as I am respiring and breathing out serenely but fretfully, he grabs my stretched light brown hair towards himself and then hurriedly and charily compresses himself against me. I can feel his huge schlong and joystick become erect and unbendable. Yes. I am going to be fucked real good and real hard; and I won’t ever feel sorry for it later on.

“Unfasten my zip, Ragnhild, will you?” As Stian states the words out, the light breeze coming out of his mouth gusts and flurries into my face. Yes. He is taller than me. A little bit high and soaring than I am; and I am not bothered by it at all. I do as he instructs me, undoing the zip of his pants, speedily and warily. That appears to electrify and excite him so very much. How do I know it? He rumbles and grumbles out gleefully and contentedly as I take appropriate and wary hold of his mammoth phallus or Willie that is secreted and covered in his linen-made underwear. Yes. His dick is so large and totally straightened perpendicularly even now. And I want to taste it inside my punani—or enthusiastic cherry pussy. I want that enormous dick of his so, so bad. Honestly speaking. I want it badly—even right this instant.

“Play with my dick, will you, Ragnhild?”

He desires me to play with his dick? Heck! How am I supposed to do that? I pet and stroke it tenderly and flippantly all the same, feeling my body tense and warm up in sexual tension and strain as I delay and dither all the more to grip and fix it straight into my pussy.

He then rebukes me, “I don’t mean that, Ragnhild. I mean to say you butter up and suck my dick. That is what I want you to do. You understand that?”

“I grasp it well, Stian.”

“Good; go ahead and do it then.”

I tilt and skim down with my back against the slicky and slimy like wall. I must suck Stian’s chopper; I must lick his dick; I must do it. I open wide my mouth…and then place his whang and big schlong inside there. Yes. He grunts and whimpers out in utmost delight and bliss the moment I do that. Damn him for making me clean his filth and muck!

“Yes…Ragnhild. Do it just like that. Yes…keep it on, baby.”

I am on the alert and attentive not to crunch his willy with my teeth. My teeth are this pointed and spiky and razor-sharp and I can simply gnaw and injure him at any over-sighting and mistaking. I am not used to doing this. Neither am I a specialist at it. But I have to do it anyway; just like he wishes me to. As I gulp and swallow more of his extensive and full-size dick into my mouth, I feel and handle nicely his haunches behind and shake and swing along with them. He lets go and frees off sperm into me in no time. I have a compulsion and responsibility to ingest and sip it well and fine, I am conscious. Damn it! I detest having semen gathered and collected in my mouth; and instead I love it filling up and packing plentifully and richly in my vagina.

“Good girl, Ragnhild. Go on with on with it, baby. A hard and pleasurable fuck is awaiting you, sweetie.”

He lets loose and pours into my mouth his valued seed and semen, filling and loading it until it is flooded and overflowing to the very heart. From the curves and angles of my mouth spermatozoa trickles and seeps out, whitish in color (I envisage) and delectable to dribble and pour and collect inside a gaping and set ajar vagina. Oh. This is so crazy and foolish indeed. But I am doing it at any rate.

I carry on with the sucking for six added-on minutes before Stian requests me to bring it to an end and then he steadily and progressively takes out his penis from my mouth to tell me to stand up and erect. I know what will follow next. He is going to fuck and bang the hell out of my pussy with his huge cock. Surely! And I cannot wait for it to come about already. My goodness! I am a cock whore to my hubby, ain’t I? That is what it seems, you phallus bitch, Ragnhild.

“You know one thing, Ragnhild?” Stian asks me.

“Yes, Stian.”

“I love you; with all my heart and soul.”

“I love you too, Stian. Now fuck my pussy already, will you?”

“As thou fancy and desireth, madam.”

I don’t think that there is any more sperm left for my vagina. Is there any? I must have sucked and slurped down Stian’s jissom and jism to emptiness and nonexistence. How many liters of reproductive cell is a in-good-physical-shape human male supposed to generate in his scrotums? How many liters ought to be spewed and puked out through his urethra? How many precisely?

Delicately and kindly, Stian puts the head of his John Thomas between my thighs and then tells me to stroke and rub it benevolently. I do as he says. And out his weight and load of spermatozoa is cast and spit out, out to tarnish and smudge and taint the opening and fissure of my vulva. Goodness! It is all so quick and unexpected; and side-splitting too. At least, there is hope that I will be having cargos and loads of semen beautifying and garnishing my womb and vagina. Vaginal sex without spermatic fluid is like eating roasted chicken without salt tipped and scattered on it. Don’t you agree with me? Salt is as evenly important as spermatozoon is.

“Shit, baby,” Stian expresses out to me, sounding like he is seriously drained and worn-out. He is not. We have not spent much time on this. In fact, we have only begun. He is not dead beat by no means, I conjecture up. With his fingers, he locates and finds my vulva and then opens it all the more widely and broadly before he fits that giant penis of his into me and begins slamming and spanking brutally and vehemently into me. Owh! This is so sudden and so uproarious. I love it indubitably! 

I shut my eyes for a fleeting and transitory while. The enjoyment…the cheerfulness…the enchantment—it is all mind-blustering and earth-crushing to the last scale indeed. Sex…is…great. Stian. He just gratifies and pleases me like nothing else. I lay my hands on his soft bums behind him and become immediately hypnotized and enthralled and enraptured by the way and manner that his bottom juggles and joggles behind there. Ahhhh! This lovemaking of ours in his office is exceedingly sweet and enjoyable indeed. It is the best thing ever.

For a concise while, Stian stops pumping and siphoning his never-ending sperms into me and then he pauses for a shortly time to ask me, “Are you enjoying this, Ragnhild? Be straight with me please.”

“Of course, I am liking it so very much, Stian. I wish there were some lights on for you to see and read my face. It is all that you can ever need to tell the entire truth.”

“All that I can ever need?”

“Unerringly! I am being frank and genuine with you here.”

“I love you so much, Ragnhild.”

“I love you so much too, Stian.”

He continues pumping and thrusting into me again. My goodness! I cannot take it. It is too much…too pleasant…too enjoyable…too fantastic and too breathtaking. And I don’t want to fasten my eyes close anymore. I am enforced to do so in any case every time that I encounter too much ecstasy and bliss and satisfaction that has me nibble and bite my lower lip gladly and excitedly. Arghhhh! I have been given too much of Stian now. Too much of him! When will he stop? I am starting to get worn-out and dead beat myself.

“Ragnhild,” Stian calls me, his tone of voice calm and malleable-like.

I am speedy and immediate to respond, “Yes, Stian.”

His breath whizzes and whirrs into my face, making me to flicker and wink my eyes aimlessly and indiscriminately. Yeah. He reeks of grave sweat and moisture. A symptom that he is comprehensively drained and worn-out! Is he actually? That is what it seems. I inhale in and exhale out, heaving a sigh acutely as he ejaculates and spurts his continual flow of sperm into me for one concise second. Arghhh! The contentment and bliss dissolves and thaws out me intolerably. I like it. The feel of his penis positioned and placed in my cunt slays and exterminates me psychologically. What other better initiative and scheme than this? Whew!

“Ragnhild.”

“I am all ears, Stian.”

“Twirl around, will you please?”

“I roll around?”

“Yes. I want to fuck and spank you from your behind. And I yearn to do it so badly, my dear.”

“Okay. Here I go.”

I revolve myself unhurriedly and bit by bit, grimacing momentarily as Stian takes away his great, pleasurable dick out of my vulva to caress and finger my pussy from behind. Yes. He touches and wipes with his full-of-zip fingers the inside of my vagina; preparing me for another grand and mind-wrecking phase of sweet, pleasurable, unadulterated sex. I love having my vagina jolted and prod by his fingers so, so much. I love it more when he ejaculates and shoots out thirst-quenching semen into my pussy itself. Damn me for it!

Straight on my neck, Stian kisses and canoodles on my skin while smacks and rams and jabs his fingers into my pussy down there. Ahhhh…This is so side-splitting and incredible. If I am not going to swoon from this too much enjoyment and contentment, then I truthfully don’t know what it is that is going to come to pass to me. I openly don’t know what it is that will come to happen to me then. Faster and more faster, he shoves and jerks his finger into me, gratifying my lustful desires and smashing to smithereens the lovely hell of reality out of me. My God! Sex is too good quality and enjoyable, isn’t it? What would life without sex be like?

As Stian halts himself and his accomplishments for a transitory while, I toss my hands behind toward him and lay hold of his bulky and full and nicely fleecy-like bottom. Yes. He is still having on his pants; and underwear too. I can attest and verify it with the touch and fondle of my hands; and it all feels so great and comical and wonderful too. This is great indeed. I caress and clout and spank the comprehensiveness and richness of his buttocks, and to my greatest pleasure and glee, they are so spongy and cushioned-like that they seem and almost feel like a baby’s velvety smooth and brilliant bottom. Yah! Sex with him is so great and factualism blowing-apart.

“Move yourself a little up, will you, Ragnhild?” He directs me. “I desire to enter you from behind. I crave to hammer and clobber and feel wholly those beautifully large butts and fat ass of yours. I covet to fuck you from behind yourself, Ragnhild.”

My goodness! The words are so sweet and pleasant they almost have me lose my consciousness. I do like I am commanded to. I shift and raise myself a little bit high up, breaking up and parting away from each other my legs as I do so, and I can feel my vagina and cervix gawp and break fully wide open. It is even now ready to receive and keep amused the sugary-filled, monster-sized John Thomas of Stian himself. “Fuck me, Stian, right away please,” I plead with him; and that is what he precisely does.

“I am coming, baby, to get you.” The words are too enjoyably syrupy and melodic to clang and chime in my ears. This is twofold enjoyment on all sides.

Rapidly and without warning, Stian launches his oversize erection into me, giving the paramount most pleasure to me, enchanting me, and making me enlarge and widen my eyes in sheer apprehension and alarm. It is out of the ordinary though. All the while that he has been banging his gigantic penis into my pussy from before my face I had no any troubles and difficulties with it. But now that he was taking and fucking me from behind, I feel like his dick is too large and gigantic for me, huge and strapping enough to slash and rip apart my darling most vagina. Will it in any case? No way. These are nothing but false impressions and misapprehensions of my own!

Unhurriedly, he thumps into me and then withdraws out of me. Progressively, my butts and bottom is made to wiggle and waggle behind me. Indisputably, he gasps and exhales on the back of my neck. I love it; I adore it; I relish and cherish sex with him. For how long has he been doing this? As long as he has known and learnt what sex is, is it not so? Perhaps! Possibly not!

I want to growl; I wish to whine and grumble without purpose; I want to howl and cry in a meaningless way. But I do not do it anyway. What if someone is standing behind our door and eavesdropping on us? Much less Stian’s boss himself by any means probable? Who cares? We are wed and married to each other, and we can have and enjoy sex wherever we want—anyhow and in any approach—aren’t you of the same opinion with me?

This is how Stian’s dick tastes like inside my vagina. Ahhhhh! The taste and feelings are too saccharine and beautiful to illustrate. Words are not sufficient to convey and explain them unmistakably and fully. But I will give it my very best shot anyway. Yes. As Stian shoves and slams his beautiful dick into me, he hoists up my leg and sets it on top of his office’s table. I didn’t know that there was a table alongside me. I wonder how he is able to see plainly and without much difficulty in this deep concentrated darkness. How is he able to do this? I cannot see anything at all; whilst he himself can. Damn it!

With one leg secured and lodged on the ostensibly massive table, and the other one relaxed and lodged down on the floor beneath, Stian continues to ram and drive deeper his phallus and sex organ into me, filling me with his valued seed and juice by so doing, and stirring up pleasantly and sweetly sensation and commotions inside of my vagina that I cannot help but marvel and revel in. I am in the next world right now as I acknowledge all this to you; a world without any soreness; a world without any sting; a world of unpolluted and untainted and highest pleasure and satisfaction. And I do not ever want to come back to this wretched, despicable, agonizing and immoral world of yours all in all.

Roughly and aggressively nice, his dick thrashes and hammers against the fortifications and barricades of my womb. I can feel his enjoyably warm and to some slight level bitter sperms smother and smear on the walls of my womb itself. This is enormously delicious and exceedingly tasty indeed. The way his semen seems to trickle and dribble on the walls of my sightless vagina…the way the very big head of his congealed penis rubs and grazes on the walls of my sex’s inside…the way his thighs behind run into and collide with my buttocks, making them to sway and move back and forth and vibrate and wiggle and joggle…it all bombards and blasts away the living hell of reality out of me. I am vanished in the world of delight and ecstasy, quivering and trembling wholly in acute sugariness and sweetness. For five minutes or so, I am so nowhere to be found and sucked up and taken on in this materialism-filling orgasm that I do not even think or reason to stir or blink an eye open. I am frozen still and static with my eyes shut and sealed up. Arghhhhh! I don’t even know where I am right now and what I am doing here.

Unluckily and sadly, the never-ending and sweetest orgasm of mine comes to its closing part and phase, prompting me to tour back to reality and stir and shake myself up to aliveness. Stian is still thumping his joystick with a piercing and pleasant-sounding pound and bang into me, panting out greatly and jadedly as he does so. My goodness! He doesn’t ever lay down his arms to the sex pastime and exploit, does he? That is not what it seems to me.

Down my thighs and legs themselves, his semen plummets and trickles from where he had deposited and sowed it—in my very own womb that is. It slithers leisurely and at a snail's slowest pace until it makes me to shudder and judder unemotionally and frigidly. Is it standard and normal of him to have such a high and excessive tempo and pace of sperms shot out of his Willy during our fuck time? Is it?

Shit. Stian’s sperm spilling out velocity and rapidity into me is certainly going to bewilder and bamboozle me. He just generates too much semen and male gamete all in all. It is too much of it; and I don’t think that I can put up with it anymore. Nonetheless, he has me alter and change my positioning so as to fuck and bash me in another approach and manner. I am exhausted already. And I need some abundant time to relax and have a break. I cannot reject or snub against having sex with him any longer than we now have already. He is the master; he is at all times the overlord; and I am here to serve and slave him without any form of protestation or complaints. It is true—sex is superior and tip-top rate; but painstakingly wearing and wearisome on either hand too.

Stian has me lounge down flat on the mammoth table itself. My God! He is still going to take me from behind. And it is quite hurting and pleasurable to some great extent. Sex…sex…sex. It is what is on my mind right this moment. I need and desire and crave more sex and sex…even though I am a great lot deal bushed-in and dead beat.

All of a sudden and without warning, he is inside of me again, promptly filling and loading me with his valuable and sweetly cum and jism. My goodness! I think that I am dying. Am I truly? Faster and more faster, he pounds and sledge hammers into me, stocking up and supplying me with too much pleasure and sweetness, and making me open my mouth wide ajar in this intense darkness so as to whimper and moan out mutely. When I sob and howl out the more noisy and piercing, he crooks himself down toward me, pressing himself against my back to be precise, and he smacks and raps his powerfully-built thighs on my ass all the more powerful and stronger and ferociously fast—and I speedily enter into another immeasurable spasm of gratifying and satisfying orgasm in no time. Goodness. It is all so sugary and wearisome, isn’t it? It without doubt is.

I groan and wail out piercingly the more; and he hastily lays his hand over my mouth, hushing and shushing me, making me go entirely noiseless and silent. Stian. You are a sweet fucker indeed. You are a sex providing specialist, my love. While I ponder these words, I am so perplexed and puzzled with the way that he is speedily and enthusiastically tack hammering and striking into me. My vulnerable vagina almost flakes out. There is just too much spermatic fluid and jism to flood and overfill her. Pity for her! She is moaning and sobbing along with me. And we are both liking and are passionate about this deep down our hearts. Damn us for it!

I stir my hand yet again to reach for Stian’s buttock. I do not let it go once I have grabbed it. It is so baby smooth and thrilling and electrifying and exhilarating to touch and stroke. Ashhhh! Was it fashioned and formed straight in heaven for me alone or not? I think so. It is mine alone to tap and stroke; mine alone to enjoy and take pleasure in. And I am get pleasure from slapping and caressing it right this very instant. Yes, I beyond doubt am. 

I burrow and mine my nails into Stian’s backsides, scraping them to be exact, grazing them real good and actual sluggish—and it all feels so massively good and out-of-this-world that I do not even think that I have ever come across anything cloying and ickly like this. While he pierces and stabs his dick into my hole’s furry and shaggy hole, making me weep and whine and whimper and hum sweetly as a result, filling me up with excessive enjoyment and sexual delight and bliss so that I grumble and groan out, I prod and press my nicked nails and lenient fingers on his soft and fleecy-like buns, trusting, only wishing that he will take it easy and hassle-free with me. And does he in any case? No. He doesn’t at all. Damn him for it! I am so totally possessed and bedeviled with the jaw-dropping and gee-whizz way and style that he fucks and shags me up. Yeah…

Bit by bit and quietly, I slide my hand underneath myself to touch and finger my much-loved pussy that he is even now whacking and battering and decking and flogging with his honeyed, massive-sized dick. Goodness. I am sinking and drowning in excessive delight and bliss, am I not? I for sure am. And I don’t want to surface and float back out to reality once more. Indubitably and hastily, I poke and stab my finger on the face of my vagina and Stian’s dick itself—and I do not even for one plain second regret it. Or do I? Hell no! 

Faster and more rapidly; quicker and more quickly; we persist on with our shag and hump and screw making until—at last pooped-in and dog-tired and worn-out—we both collapse and plummet down on the table underneath us and heave out a great lot deal gravely and critically. It has all been enjoyable and breathtaking and fantastic indeed. And we are ended for now, it appears.

At that peak in time, the electric lights and power and supply return back, thrilling and galvanizing me much to my shock and alarm. I glance about and see myself entirely dressed alongside Stian who is on top of me, except that we are both having the zips of our trousers gaping open and unlatched, and for your very own bit of knowledge, Stian did not touch or lay a finger on any of my two enormous and fully-sized breasts throughout the course of our crackers mood fuck up. No, he didn’t! 

Stian Elberd and I myself—Ragnhild Ascwin—are departing off for a hush-hush and not-communal picnic at some far away seaside and seashore. By hush-hush, I denote that it is going to be the two of us alone and not more than that. Yes. We are going to gobble batches and assortments of delicious and lip-smacking food and more outstandingly and significantly have endless laps and lots of great and so out-of-this-world sex. It is to some extent chilly and icy, but we are going anyway. We have made up our minds and assessments about it and nothing is going to alter that.

Regrettably and unluckily, and much to my own dissatisfaction and aggravation, the car that we are in—a bullion-colored Nissan Trimm 196—breaks down and Stian is left with no preference and alternative other than to ring up his repairman and tell him about where we are and what came about to us as well as where it is that we are going. After continual and nonstop minutes of chatting and conversing on his phone with the grease monkey man, he breaks off the call and peeks at me callously and frigidly like.

“What did the mechanic say?” I ask him.

He frowns at me unfeelingly for being daring and audacious enough to inquire him of that. “He will be here in like two hours from now; can you believe it, Ragnhild?”

“That is totally awful and dire news in any case.”

“Yes, it is terrible news indisputably.”

To hack a time-consuming story to the summary and terse, Stian and I consent that we are going to fuck each other in this bulky, infinite forest about us. We can’t just wait any more longer to arrive at the beach. I want sex right now and I yearn for it so bad. I would recite the rosary and even say my prayers out loud if it is bearable and allowable just so I can have and enjoy it. I am not shaggy dog storying here. This is the fixed and genuine truth. Arghhhh! I watch in silence as Stian takes off his blue-color jeans and pitch-black underwear and remains in nothing but his steep and irrefutable bareness. Why is it all the time that he likes having on black underwear in distinction and disparity with the other poles-apart shades? Oh my! Those mightily and impressively built and gorgeously hulking and filled and bursting-at-the-seams thighs of his…they enthrall and spellbind me. Damn me for my unquenchable lust and licentiousness and lasciviousness of him! Yes. I have an voracious and unappeasable desire and longing of him and his gigantic dick too. My monster and dearly loved John Thomas—I call him. He is mine to get pleasure from; mine to stroke and feel and amuse myself about with.

Phew! This is so truly funny and intriguing. I don’t want it to end; not at all.

“Tilt down over the front windshield of the car with your face gazing straight at mine so I can fuck and spank you till you are so exaggeratedly stoked and floating in mid air.”

My goodness! That is what I am supposed to do? I hurriedly do it keenly and merrily in any case. I clamber up on the windshield of our car, and once I am settled and accommodated on it, I haul and tow my legs apart and then pitch and fling up my yellowy dress so that my lemon-tinted Gee-string is laid to plain and infallible sight before Stian’s vigilant eyes and gaze itself. With a speedy and trained and yet mild tug, he yanks and tows away my Gee-string until he is clutching and gripping them in his very own hands. Then, with that carried through, he flings and tosses it away into a close-by bush.

I am provoked by his deed there and then. “Shit, Stian, you threw away my Gee-string, didn’t you? Have you got any idea of how much it was that I bought it? It was and still at present is very pricey.”

He becomes charmed and absorbed to the heart by my uncovered and furry and shaggy vagina when he stares at it. Yes. He is going to fuck it pretty damn bad and hard. This I can tell from the way and manner that he is licking his lips while gawking and ogling at my undressed cunt itself. Fuck me already, will you?

“I will get you a new duo and set of Gee-strings, Ragnhild, before we get back home. I assure you. I will get you any type of pants that you want. Do you hear that?”

“Yes, I do hear you obviously well, my overlord and boss.” That is what I call Stian. He is my principal and overlord. Any heading and label that you can think of which has a majestic and lordly feel to it belongs to him. Yeah. That is just how things are between the two of us. And I like it that way. As for me, I am his servant and bondswoman and varlet and serf. I like it and I am also mad about it so, so, so very much.

“Nice,” Stian notes kindheartedly. “You are a good girl indeed. And I am so very in love with good girls. As long as you submit and yield yourself entirely to me like this superb way that you even now are doing, we will all the time be at harmony and serenity and cheerfulness with each other.”

Won’t he fuck me already? I have had enough of the lame, monotonous, and stupid talk already.

When he reviews and checks my hopeful and longing pussy this time, I am convinced and positive that I will be spanked and fucked and banged pitilessly and heartlessly like no man’s dealing. In fact, my vagina itself is missing Stian’s spermatic seed and jism so, so, so very much. She is awfully and particularly parched and thirsting for it. Without taking another swallow and fresh nip of it, she will definitely kick it and pop her plogs. I am just jesting and wise-cracking, don’t take offence at me. But once it—his male gamete—is made accessible and obtainable to her—my vag (abridgement or shortening for vagina) or pussy hole—she will without doubt gulp and guzzle it all down.

Properly and evenly, Stian places and lays his finger into the thickness and breadth of my gleefully now animate and busy pussy. The feeling…the sentiment that stirs with it…it is all so great and riotous and unbelievably fantastic. I have not submitted myself to anything like it before. Arghhh! Bit by bit and nicely, he jostles and jams smoothly nice his elongated fingers into me. I stare up at the boundless blue sky above my head and close my eyes for what seems like a fleeting while. Each time before we have sex, Stian all the time does that to me. He knows very well how to make and get ready my pussy for a good and pleasing round of kinky fuckery. This is so great and far-fetched indeed.

Left and right, up and down, his skillful fingers rummage about and stab and prod each and every side of my vagina’s inside. I like the feeling and commotions that they are rousing up with the stabled movements; I like everything about his balanced and yet calm and body-striking movement. It is all Greek to me—which I do not know and even do not apprehend—and I am utterly thrilled and excited by it as much as my mind is muddled and obscured up like mud-spattered and grimy waters on the other hand. Sex, sex, and more sex please…

“Can I lick and lap and sweep your pussy with my own tongue and also nosh and snack it with my very own mouth?” Stian asks all this to me, observing and studying what my reaction and response to him will be like. I am perplexed and dazed at the same time, and my face can evidently and straightforwardly show all of this.

“Yes, Stian. Flick and lap and brush your tongue in my cunt if you like. Snack and graze it with your very own mouth too if you see it preferable and more suitable and eligible.” And he does precisely just that. Bowing himself down towards me so that he has his mouth stationed and positioned right next to my vagina, he gawks and glances it briefly and for a moment before budging and stirring ahead to lap and whip his tongue violently and hysterically against it. My goodness! It is the best and most excellent thing ever. The lips and rims and margins and flanges of my sex wags and wiggles with the thrashing and flogging of his tongue, creating these pleasant and stunning sensations from somewhere there down my waist. In the dome and quarter of my muff and punani that is. Goodness. It is all the great and gratifying. I do want all this to come to a concluding and ultimate ending? Not at all! I want us to go on and on and on without any sort of conclusion at all.

My body is melting and dissolving and liquefying in this vast, grand accumulation and grouping of keen most bliss and pleasure. Getting laid is the nicest thing in case you didn’t know. My breath is so confound and disarrayed up and my thinking itself is this gone nuts and round the bend. All I experience about and within me is enjoyment and bliss and immense contentment…and nothing else. The way that Stian licks and thrashes his tongue on the rims and brims of my sex bears out to me just how much of a professional and connoisseur he is at sex. I am so pleased and relived that I am married and wed to an accomplished and practiced man like him in the first place.

After breaking off from his accomplishment for a little bit while, he runs his finger down my vulva towards my ass and then stabs and pricks it. I howl out vaguely savored and delighted and a little bit surprised and taken aback by that. My goodness! Will he also be fucking that zone and region and neighborhood of mine? He shouldn’t do it. I am at the moment not ready and geared up to be rammed and rapped with that massive cock and dick of his into my ass. Not now; not any sooner; perhaps some time later.

I scowl and make a face whilst Stian’s finger sports and fiddles and wantons about with my ass. Is he solemn and grave and staid on biffing and decking and walloping and whacking up that quarter and neck-if-the-woods turf of mine? Is he? I ask him straight away, “Are you also going to slide your stretched and giant John Thomas in there, Stian?”

“Not really. But I can do it if you want me to. What is your say on that?”

“No, no; don’t do it. I am not geared up for it right now.”

He stoops and bobs himself down and first smells and gets a whiff and sniff of my ass before he proceeds on to lick and smack it with his tongue as well. My goodness! Oh my goodness! The feeling is so bizarre and abnormal and of-the-wall and daggy-like. Doesn’t he find it foul-smelling and stinking and reeking sort-of to have fun and frolic and frisk about with my anus this freaking anomalous way? An hour before we left for the water’s edge and ocean plage back at our home, whilst I had locked and shut myself up in our capacious and bountiful latrine and water closet, I had given up human dung and faces and excrement that looked as grassy and greenly as hale-and-hearty lawn, and it was the most malodorous and feisty-smelling waste matter and lak of mine, which I hand wiped up and brushed and swabbed entirely clean with the velvety and silky maroon-colored tissue. Damn Stian for doing that to me! He was trifling and amusing himself with my goddamn intimate and darling most anus, wasn’t he aware of it?

I am shamefaced and conscience-stricken and sheepish on that. I mean, the anus is supposed to be mucky and grungy and skanky—isn’t it all that? And Stian here is sporting and romping up games with it like it is greatly guiltless and squeaky-clean and irreproachable? Yeah…I know. Like they term and style it…anal play…grungy and dirty play, isn’t it so?

Heck. Who would have foretold Stian engaging in silly and stupid games with my prized and priceless anus all thanks to the utilization and usefulness of his sluggish and dopey-minded tongue? Damn him for it! He was thick-headed and brain-dead enough to do it. Yes, he definitely was.

When he is completed with entertaining and amusing himself with my much-loved and very much helpful and functional anus, he stares up at me and then beams and smirks wickedly to state to me, “Must I come up there to fuck you? Or must I drag you down here to fuck you right close to me?”

“Mount up here and fuck me please,” I make known to him. He does just that. He crawls and clambers up to where I am seated on the bonnet of the car, with my back tilted and leaned on the windshield beneath me, and once he is up here with me, he curves and twists himself down to place and lay himself over me. Goodness. His solidified and congealed erection strokes and brushes my thighs; and I am all this frozen immobile and static right away, gulping down hard as a sugary, lust-awakening-like feeling and passion journeys through my blood and veins themselves. I want him to fuck me hard…right here and right this particular moment. Will he at any rate? It is too soon to tell that, or is it not?

“Are you ready for me to come into you?” Stian questions me, reviewing and surveying my facial appearance and idiom itself.

I nod towards him silently, and it is then that he penetrates his full erection into me, lightly and cautiously. Yah! I have been waiting for this sugary moment all these lengthy while ages. And here it has at last come. I don’t want everything to end. If only we can expend and splurge and fritter up the rest of our outstanding and lingering but lasting days fucking and spanking up each other. It would be so great and fantastic, aren’t you of the same opinion and estimation and view with me. Leisurely but unquestionably, Stian pumps in and then bails out his elongated and made-bigger dick out of me, satisfying my lust, slaking and placating it—and I am so extremely and from the bottom of my heart pleased with him and his achievement.

Oh my gosh! What a content, joyful, and pleasurable life of mine this all is! A life of sex…sex…and more sex with my very much handsome and devoted and caring and helpful husband—Stian Elberd. Stian, please fuck me in this inexhaustible and fear-provoking forest about us, will you, honey?

Shit. I can’t believe that Stian is going to fuck me real awesome and admirable and butchin’ five-star! I would love that. His voluminous and hulking thighs ballet and waggle against mine, his hips or bottom or butts behind swinging and swaying quietly and intensely. Oh my gosh! I love it. It is oh so appetizing and amazingly tasty and yummy and plain damnedest best awesome and beautiful and pleasurable too. I stare down to see how his gigantic dick is pricking and going in and out outside of my hole, and to be truthful and candid with you, I am dazed and beguiled by what I see and observe. Speedily and vividly brutal and stern, his phallus punches and rams into me, making his body to ballet and jig and wriggle in such a very dazzling and outstanding and breathtaking motion. Being fucked is an excellent and fantastically enjoyable thing indeed. He must not stop…he must not refrain or break off from what he is doing to me right this very moment.

For a little, far-fetched while, he removes his massive and fully-jammed and replete penis out of me to stroke and caress it adequately and tenderly just before my not-yet-fully-pleased-and-made-happy vulva itself. Ashoooo! It is an eye-catching and spectacular thing indeed. He jerks and yanks his big John Thomas with his own hands before my very own private eyes, staring gravely and acutely at his oversize dong while slinking a glance at me every little once in a while. Then he tells me, “Set your vagina far and wide ajar. I want to gorge and fill it up with my own cum and jism. Do it before I come. Fast, Ragnhild.”

I do like I am ordered and charged to; I position my fingers on my sex and open its rims and flanges broadly and far more extensively and widely apart. Deep inside it, it is all flushed pink and roseate and to some faded extent reddish. Of course! It is all so drenched and dripping and bathed and doused with Stian’s cum itself. Poor it! I trust that it is enjoying this too, is not it?

Arghhhh! As I finger and stay wide open the lips and cavities of my troubled and shocked sex, gazing at Stian while he rubs and strokes his vast, littly vermilion-like dick at the same time, he lets loose and fires and spurts out continual and unbounded cum from it, directing and casting it straight into my cherry pink punani that is anticipating so very much to be given and be also furnished with it.

“Yeah,” Stian undertones out to me, content and happy with himself and his achievement. “Yeah, baby. That is it. Open it more wider and extensively and happily get my downpour and deluge of sweet rainfall and raindrops of pleasantly cum itself.”

Stian’s cum is bizarrely lukewarm and enjoyable. Is there anything not wide-off-the-mark with that? I nibble and masticate my lips and tongue as he pours and showers out more and more semen into my powerless and vulnerable punani, filling and furnishing me with too much pleasure and sweetness all in all. Yes. Like that, baby. Keep on doing it. I am liking it so, so, so very much; I am taking pleasure in it so badly and so, so intensely.

Eishhh! Is this enjoyment and sweetness I am taking joy in right now ever going to end? I don’t want it to finish and pull the plug on to be honest and earnest with you. Damn it!

All of a sudden and unexpectedly, Stian is inside of my vagina again, prancing and bobbing himself up and down, and rocking up and down and swaying violently and crazily his buttocks behind. Ashhh! I like the manner and style that he fucks me. The sex he grants and bestows and furnishes me with is just plain damn awesome and mind-blasting and splitting in nearly about every means and form. Stian is the world’s greatest fucker of our time—if not of all time.

I shut my eyes close while he bashes and whacks and clobbers and clouts and swats and tonks and batters into me. Yeah. I wish to focus and contemplate on nothing else right now but the exceeding sugariness and syrupiness and honeyedness that he is furnishing and filling me with; that pleasantly sacchariness; that beautifully ickiness; that wonderfully cloyingness that materializes and comes into being with him socking and spanking and thrusting and slapping into me. It wings and flutters me straight into paradise and the next world itself in not long than a millisecond. Yah! I love being fucked and spanked and hammered sexually a great lot deal big time as a matter of truth. Sex really rocks, don’t you think so? I do opinion and esteem so myself as a matter of authenticity and veracity.

For a second, Stian quits fucking and tipping out a great immense deal of semen into me. My vagina and Isabelita down there is thirsty and parched and dehydrated again. She thirsts for more semen and cum; she is in fact itching and greedy for more kinky and hard fuckery from the great master fucker of our time himself—Stian Elbert. She is desirous what’s more and avid and athirst and craving and hankering for more and more sex, sex, and endless sex…and will it be given her? I cannot tell so soon.

And? What next? I ask Stian why he has abruptly broken off and come to a standstill from fucking and banging me up. He has this to fill in to me, “I am imagining about any probable way that I can make use of in fixing and patching up my car.”

Crap! That is what he is cogitating over about? Damn him for it then! We are having sex here. Not just any commonplace and usual sex; but sweet-smelling and sugary and fragrant-like and euphonious fuckery and coition all in all. And he tells me that he has let his mind wander and stray to our contemporary crisis and dilemma? Setbacks and hitches in this iniquitous and unrighteous and morally wrong world of ours never end. They never, ever come to a final and ultimate and absolute ending and expiry and resolution; they never, ever do that; in lieu, they are incessant and continuous and evermore permanent. And if you swear that you are never, ever, ever going to have and appreciate and relish and find satisfaction in sex all of your life and days here on Earth until all is perfectly and brilliantly well with you, then you are never, ever, ever and ever going to have and be privileged with it and the pleasurable and of your body’s liking largesse and kohas and bequests and boons and prezzies that come along with engaging in it. There is no such thing as a perfect and ideal moment to have and enjoy sex. Nothing like that at all! Or is there something f that sort and nature in your perspective and standpoint?

I scowl and make an irate face at Stian. That is the problem with men. They are full of nonstop and solemn and somber thoughts and theories and philosophies and intelligence. Cannot they at times be emotional and physiological and spiritual driven like we women are? Is it that tremendously and massively difficult and easier-said-than-done thorny and complex to do, even for a very concise and epigrammatic second? Stian must be grim and staid with whatever it is that he is doing. Fatally speaking!

“Stian,” as I affirm and mention out his name to him, I take hold of his chin and direct and steer his face straight and unswervingly to mine. He seems to be in a quite pensive and brooding state of mind; which I detest and am repulsed by so very much. We have some unfinished and not-whole dealing here and he dares and even has the courage and nerve to do this to me. Damn him for it!

“What is it, Ragnhild?” His tone sounds irritated and a great deal annoyed to some degree.

“Why do you have to act like this now that we are still pursuing on some sweet, unfinished trade of ours? This is not any fair and reasonable, you must know.”

“Come on, honey. Don’t you want us to get to the seaside shore and fuck up each other there some more?”

“I want that to happen. But we are doing something here already, or aren’t we, Stian?”

“We sure are, sweetheart.”

“End of story. Let us continue with out incomplete business and let the repairman, who must promptly be on his way here—I deduce—take care of the rest of our crisis and dilemma. Fuck me again now.”

It works! Hurray! That has Stian smash raucously and thump madly and frantically into me and with a racketing and banging alike sound. I like it. It…is…oh…so…scrumptious…and…delicious! It definitely and unquestionably is…

I am slanted and lounged down on the windshield of our car, thoroughly tired and exhausted. Stian is trinketing and toying without purpose with his big dick by rubbing and stroking it over my open-yawning pussy. I love it. He has his eyes fixed straight at me; and I have my eyes fastened up straight on him as well. I ask him affectionately, “How many cars have passed by on the road, Stian, while we were busy and actively amusing and twiddling with ourselves here?”

“Seven cars, I conjecture up.”

Oh!! So roughly about seven or even more people have wend their way past us on the road and become alarmed and horrified at seeing us have sex and rumpy-pumpy right here with each other? Who cares? I don’t give a damn myself. Duh!

“Are you not bothered by it?” Stian questions me while he beams at me in a very wicked way.

“Bothered by what?” I query back—and for your very own piece of facts and details, he still has his giant and sweetly dong dolling and fiddling about with my fanny. And I am delighting and reveling in it so very much. I surely am.

“By the concern that we are having sex in this forest in such a way and manner that everyone who is roving and journeying by is able to catch a glimpse of and clap eyes on us. Doesn’t that upset and scare and alarm the hell out of you?”

It doesn’t. That is just it and nothing more.

Once more again, Stian moves stealthily his massive and enormous dick into me and once he is inside of me, I almost lapse out and go out into unconsciousness from too maximum-most and highest pleasure and enjoyment. Even without making the slightest budge and shift and stir, he sploshes and throws off and sloshes about a great deal of spermatic fluid inside of me, warming up and hardening and heating up my entire self for a little bit while such that I cannot not stir or budge or make a move about as I feel and desire like. My goodness! I am not able to inhale or exhale for what almost seems like an eternity. I blink and stir back to realism only after Stian has cuffed and boxed and slapped hard and agreeably nice my ass behind. Oh no. I have almost pegged it out—all thanks and in gratitude to a very long and long sexual climax and orgasm. Shit! I didn’t know that the big O’s and comings are capable and able to do away with one’s level-headedness and clear-sightedness itself. What the heck?

While sighing out to himself from grave fatigue and lassitude and exhaustion, Stian informs and notifies me, “Have I informed you, Ragnhild, that I have not ever fucked anyone like this in all my entire life?”

I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know all that when he had not apprised and acquainted me with it? Anyway, now I have knowledge of it and it is all that matters really…

“Roll around now quickly, will you, Ragnhild?” While the words issue and come out of his mouth, I exactly know what he is scheming and even plotting to do with me; which is fucking and battering my anus real hard and good with that massive phallus organ of his until I feel so creature-from-outer-space and no more of myself any longer. To be sincere and forthright with you, I dread and find objectionable anal sex so very much. Why—you may wonder? I am scared and I also find it really horrorful that my anus is going to be hurt and sting to the point and extreme where it cannot recover and pull through back again from the raw, fuckery tribulation. Well, what the heck this all for sure is. Crumby-pumby!

Nevertheless, I do as Stian instructs me to. He shifts about my dress further up so that my buttocks and behind is entirely and fully exposed and uncovered to his reach and sight and after getting that done, he insert sand pops in his finger into my taut, stretched and slumbering anus so as to have fun and amuse himself about with her. I shudder, dreading that moment when he is going to push and slide his immensely giant thing into my cherished arse itself. How am I going to handle that?

“Stian,” I cry out, whooping and yelling out his name to be precise.

He answers immediately, “Yes, Ragnhild.”

“Are you going to fuck my arse too? Is that what you think out to do? Is that it?”

“Not today; and don’t ever fret or worry about it either, I beg you. That is not going to take place now or sooner from now. I know and I also am aware of how much badly and truly you are scared and frightened of that. I wouldn’t take joy and pleasure in tormenting and torturing and harrowing you.”

At least; that makes me feel good and better about everything. At least the butt suffering and soreness and throe on my part is not coming about any moment now—it surely seems so. Not up till I am ready and geared up for it…

Phew. I exhale out noisily; all glad and pleased about everything. It all makes perfect sense now. Stian was and still is just trifling and fooling around with my ass and nothing else. What an alleviation and comfort and remedy it all is to me. Hurrah!

“And are we over with the fucking thing and dealing for now, Stian,” I ask him—verbosely and benevolently.

He responds while still gew-gawing and gim-cracking and knick-knacking about with my ass as he feels like carrying out. “Yes. We will pick it up from where we have at the moment left everything once we are on the seashore. The repairman will show up any moment from now. It is almost two hours now since that gone moment when I last rang him. Shit. My phone is even now buzzing and chiming and pealing and tolling about. It is him calling. For sure! Let us dress up quickly, shall we, Ragnhild? We have an unanticipated visitor pending by.”