Sexual Bliss Collection #1

Reads: 1191  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Adult Romance  |  House: Booksiesilk Classic Group

These are three sex-correlated short stories previously published here; with an additional 1000 words+ chocolate-hot sex scene copy-pasted in with them.



It is an immense deal of ache and hurt to be stripped nude and unclothed, just as much as it pleasing and enjoyable on either hand—in case you didn’t realize it. I am undressed and stripped bare right now as I note all this down to you. My skin is this wholly and expansively nude and uncovered; my gigantic breasts and jagged, prickly-like, orbed and bumpy-like nipples are leveled up and uptight-akin-to in shape and form; my small tummy is this withered and contracted; my vagina yawns and gawps wholly wide open, trembling and quivering too just like my entire body, from the vast iciness and chilliness that is afflicting and racking me right this moment; the air and atmosphere about me is what’s more piercingly frosty and freezing, and that, I cannot bear to put up with at all. Fuck me a million times for all that!


He will be here any moment from now, I am conscious. He will be here to stroke and cuddle an uncovered me…to gobble and devour avariciously a sugary-like and naive me…and that, I cannot run away from. He says that he is wed and slotted in—by engagement that is—to a sweet, amiable, and fine-looking me. And that—I endeavor so much not to accept it as true. Ladies and gentlemen, I am Ragnhild Ascwin…and this is my narrative.


Never look at an undressed man, sweetie. If it was not my mother who put those pictographic words in my mind, then I truthfully don’t know who articulated it. It could be I myself—or my mocking, ridiculing conscious—Isabel, I named her.


Stylishly and with just the ideal poise, Stian Elbert ambles toward me, effortlessly and with no any intricate trouble. He is naked. Semi naked. And I know and even do feel that he is about to strip himself entirely dress-less. His hair, a subterranean and concentrated shady crimson in tint and appearance, is effusively damp and drenched from the fresh shower that he has just taken. Yes. His stunning whitish lime-like skin is delightfully and startlingly soggy and sprinkly. The way that his heavy and bursting rock-hard-like muscles are arranged and shaped, they seize my breath away and leave me every inch baffled and bamboozled and insensitive and winded. I can feel lust and covetousness of him loading up my veins and blowing apart and splintering my senses to unsurpassed sugariness and syrupiness. Am I if truth be told married to this tremendously handsome guy? Am I?


As he bends down to feel and pat my chin smoothly, he gasps acutely and then gives his dazzling like-velvet black eyes whole attention to mine. I breathe in too—rapidly and hurriedly. Blood thrusts faster and more faster in my veins…my vagina itself seems like it is opening and sealing up concurrently and all of a sudden. Damn it! He is going to fuck me real excellent and real lovable. I quiver and vibrate in unparalleled enjoyment and delight as his tongue ballets and wiggles on mine.


“Ah,” I burble and falter out; and down to our oversize, sumptuous bed we plummet together, him placing his hands down further so they can pat and stroke my behind…my buttocks in other language. I whine the more, and he sows cavernous, demonstrative, and eagerly unhurried kisses on my throat and between my breasts and even on my nipples themselves. Just as his anterior-set teeth play and fool around with the rims of my cute nipples, I tense and flex up into this one vast solid heap of ice cream and chocolate coalesced. Fuck it!


I am unable to come across my control and drive of will there and then. My hands speedily get in touch with his behind—or hindquarters—feeling the upper edging of his towel and shoving and hauling it off him. My goodness! His bums are so bulky and so filled. I can feel them throb and beat against me. Plus they are so spongy and squashy-like to finger and clinch close to me. Damn it! I fancy him to gum that phallus and John Thomas into me right now. So, so very much for your own added information.


“Draw your legs apart,” he speaks softly into my ears, quietly and soothingly. “Haul them apart so I can get into you already and now, now.” The insist grows louder and more shrill as he goes on with his stabled, gratifying movement against me. I am so quick and immediate to comply with him. I tear apart my legs, moaning out noisily as I do so, and for a concise minute, he glances and stares down at my vagina, seemingly blown out of his brains and logic altogether. Then, unexpectedly and hurriedly, he collapses himself over me, quietly and with awareness and care, and laying his hard, stiff and beyond doubt inflexible erection into me at that very same time so that I grunt and growl out in deep and utmost bottomless bliss. This enjoyment and gratification is indisputably going to take away my life, it probably seems. Will it?


The joystick that is in my lengthy hole seems so much of a great kick and elation that I do not want in any way possible to be snatched away from me. It generates and produces a great deal of pleasure and lovability which otherwise I could not have foreseen my body building and crafting on its own. I am in the uppermost heavens right now as I share this escapade of with you. I am so ecstatic and overjoyed right now.


“Ah…ah…ah,” I bawl out from the invariable, frequent enjoyment that Stian is thrusting and ramming into me. There is no pain, no any minor form of any soreness whatsoever. All about me are emotions and sentiments of too much syrupiness and sweetness. While he pulls in and out of me his pleasantly extensive, full-size his penis, I plunge down to the untainted ashen sheets underneath us and ascend up concurrently and over and over again, clinging and clutching on resolutely to his moderately bulky behinds. I am enjoying this repetitive sequence and phase of ours so very much. Until the globe around me dims and darkens all of a sudden and unexpectedly. I faint. Without ever grasping on to it; and in the very midst and core of our ardent get-your-leg-over making.


When I awaken and stir up to my logic and first-class worth judgment, I am all so giddy and woozy experiencing. Damn! This surely feels like a burgundy searing burst-into-flames hell and torment. I can’t accept it as being moderately proper and exact that I paled or fainted out in the very midst and heart of my uptight and frenetic rumpy-pumpy screw-making with Stian. How was that ought to take place? Was it typical and ordinary even? I have no any slim hint at all. None which-so-ever. As I whip and budge about on the stocky-sized divan, our formerly shady and gloomy room is this great deal and greatly lighted up and illumined; I stir about the more only to I ascertain and discern a small, petite washbasin half-loaded with water as well as a chalice of ice and hoarfrost and a beaker of pills and tablets on the very unchanged diminutive table just next to the massive, classy-looking bed that I am now lying down on. Huh! Was I being put under the knife and carried surgical treatment on in this once-upon-a-time dim and ominous-like room? By Stian himself the medic and surgeon himself?


I glance about and notice him seated down not far away from me, hushed and pessimistic looking on the very alike and similar bed that I am stock-still and frozen on. He is not entirely naked nevertheless. He is dressed in that self-same emerald, bottle green similar-to towel that he came into our bedroom having on from the bathroom, wiping up and swabbing a soaked him literally dry what’s more. In spite of his melancholy and great worry, he is extremely and exceptionally handsome as ever before. My God! I desire to feel and touch him right now. Absolutely. I cannot keep check myself…or my untamed and feral passions either.


“Stian,” I word kindly and delicately, shifting my hand about to stroke and finger him. He reaches for my hand in a fleeting while and grasps it so fine and fighting fit. Oh yes. In spite of my breeding and deteriorating twinge and anguish at the same time, I can feel contentment and delight overhauling me and my sentiments themselves. “Stian, what went on here?” I ask tenderly and feebly.


He exhales out noisily and then shrugs to himself. “You lost your consciousness, Ragnhild; and I had to ring up the doctor.”




“He went away a couple minutes ago; and he wound up that you are in good health and that nothing grave is this off-beam and in-the-wrong with you. Did you wolf something before we arrived here to hump and get it on with each other?”


“I didn’t,” I answer truthfully and sincerely.


He gets irritated and annoyed consecutively and promptly. “Which might make it clear why you fainted and experienced a black-out all of a sudden and unexpectedly. In any case, you must speedily eat something up before we get off to take forty winks, will you?”


“I won’t take any nap until we conclude what we have already begun, Stian.”


“But you are still frail and fragile, Ragnhild.”


“I will be sturdy and all right if I gobble something. Please.” I look at him in that beseeching and entreating manner till his eyes and expression itself softens and alleviates at long last. Then he concurs to my suggestion little by little and surely.


“Okay. Chomp and we shall carry on with our bang-bang business there and then.”


I do not waver and falter about to eat what he fetches and carries me in my cradle—or bed. Grapes, strong and in-good-physical-shape carroty-like orange-shaded juice, vegetable planted and fixed in two pieces of pies, and flimflam-like scones. Oh…I love it. Once I am through eating, we go on with where we had put down the coitus and fucking scene and prospect. My, my! My vagina wriggles and waggles straight away in absolute kick and enthusiasm as the markedly gorgeous man before my vigilant and on-the-alert eyes strips entirely nude and naked. I like the way that his profound and very eye-catching chest is patterned and styled tastefully. I am in addition to that mad about the way that his impressively and mightily fabricated arms are styled and molded…the manner his bounty chest hair is spread and unfurled. No, he does not have any pubic locks and curls of hair close to his sexual organ and womb pecker. That underneath, striking branch is satisfactorily and sufficiently sheared and done up. I give my word about it.


Ah…the feel of his large and elongated dong—or pecker—breaking through and piercing into my vulva and on tenterhooks unoccupied trench—it blusters and blows me out of my intellect and sagacity speedily and without postponement. ARGHHHH! There is just a certain grand lovability and charm to the clash and rap of his John Thomas against my thrilled punani. He hits and knocks his Extensive, Gigantic John against the barricades and walls of my breathing and living twat, giving immense pleasure to me and making my day so great and wholly out of this world by so doing. As he lets go his seed and spermatic fluid—or jism—into me, I feel the fortifications and bulwarks of my cunt broaden and enlarge so that my womb mechanically and routinely collects more and more of his incessantly pouring and heavily drizzling semen—all let loose hastily and frantically mad into me—and as that takes place, I can imagine and visualize up my vagina’s interior flushing and swilling out an unfathomable crimson and the sugared and over-sweetened gumming-like honey held in his intense and unbroken discharge replenishing and furnishing me with too sweet and maudlin enjoyment and bliss. I yelp out at the top of my voice, “Ah…you…are…killing…me…Stian…”


My words at ultimate last jumble up and tail off and become this confused and mish-mashed like; my thoughts and judgment is to a great extent disturbed and blown apart as if from a potent shell blast; I don’t ever imagine or assume moreover that I will be able to gulp and draw in another sweet-smelling, fragrant-like breath after all this too-sweet-to-be-true trances and wide-awake hallucinations of mine. I am dying. Fast and assuredly.


As Stian attains or reaches his hands behind me to cuddle and stroke my bottom or gluteus maximus, he slices and stabs his oversize,filled penis deep into me, filling my vagina up with his male gamete and spermatozoa, making me bawl and howl in too much bliss and enjoyment. I have never been this filled up and made strongly happy. Much less pleased and gratified with sex and covetousness and love and obsession. My goodness! Am I not going to breathe my last and perish from intense enjoyment and contentment? It is all sweet –fantastically and intensely and fiercely lovable. A—r—g—hhhhh! I love it!


With his hands fastened and secured on my butts, he shoves his huge knob in and then quickly hauls it out of me, smacking and whacking my buns behind me down there lightly and pleasurably. The approach and style that his organ or pecker rips open and breaks apart the inside of me—it exhausts and strips me of my thinking and vigor and oomph. I am so mislaid and gone astray in thought right now. Vanished in the middle of I don’t know where exactly. Stian is not coarse and forceful and voilent me; He is this startlingly and incredibly tender and mild and caring and gentle-like. My God! When is all of this enjoyment and bliss of mine going to conclude? When specifically? When?


I haul up my leg up for him to go in into me faultlessly well and he at once mounts himself toward me, inhaling and heaving a sigh out a great lot deal as he does so. His lungfuls of air bluster and squalls across my skin. Yeah. It is strongly breezy and nippy too—just the idyllic thing that I need right this specific minute to scrap and brawl against the grave sweat and exceptionally high temperature that is going and out through my body. Moments back, I felt that the air was exceedingly hot and scorching about me, that it would cook and stew my flesh up, until Stian Elbert heaved out, much to my liberation and relief. Yeah. Sex…is incredibly good quality and excellent too. I am relishing in it.


Steadily and warily, Stian takes out his massive, valuable and dear Willie out of me. I feel the delight and enjoyment spinning and whirling inside my vagina recede and slither away as he does that. Damnit! He looks at me gradually and suspiciously, his eyes easier-said-than-done and tricky to grasp on to, until he ultimately makes that query to me, “Must I carry on with this pleasing, lovely trance of ours?”


Of course! I want him to. Right now, I can perform just about anything in the world to have him locate and ram that giant phallus of his into me. Yes. Even if it means putting up for sale on the devil’s market my very own precious soul for zilch and zero gain, I would willingly and happily do it. Not that I could literally and readily do it without much thinking and consideration devoted in the slight matter. My thoughts and judgment were at this articulate minute wholly confound and confused up. I wanted sex so, so much and so, so bad like nobody’s commerce.


“Yes, Stian, we must keep on on with this. I am intensely and as a matter of fact enjoying it,” I toned out to him lowly and smoothly.


“Really?” He asked calmly and serenely, heaving his eyebrow craftily and deviously sly at me.


I did not respond. Instead, I take hold of him and quietly towed him toward me, kindly stroking and caressing his soft backside behind and grunting out raucously the moment I felt his stretched, giant tadger or Willie brush and sweep over my thighs. He slotted and popped it inside my vulva there and then; and farther up I soared my way, speedily and rapidly fast—up to the uppermost and elevated-most heavens that I could not see with bare and natural human eyes. Goodness. Sex is great, don’t you believe so?


Slap! Spank! Smack! Stian cuffs and smacks his stunning-looking thighs against mine, rumbling and making out a malleable, grunting-like sound as he does so. He fixes his tender and compassionate eyes on mine, showing me just how much love and liking he reserves for me down there in the very depths and stealthy chambers and cavities of his heart. Yes. This is the most beautiful thing ever. Having copulation and rumpy-pumpy with him. I will never regret it in the imminent future. Not at all.


Each time that he pours and releases torrents and trains of sugary-like semen into me, I feel that he is not doing his very best and finest when in fact he is. And thus I reach on for his squashy-like rear-sides and drag and haul them against me along with himself more prominently. He clenches and grinds his teeth instantaneously, ramming and slamming into faster and more faster and harder. Yeah. This is it…this is how it is supposed to be done. Exactly just like this. Arghhh!


“Stian, my love,” I sob out at full volume.


“Yes, honey,” he s straight away.


“Stian, you are killing me, my love.”


“No, I am not, Ragnhild. I am having sexual intercourse with you; and I am liking it so very much. Close your eyes now, baby, will you? I want us to both look at each other with our mind's eyes alone and nothing else.”


I do that only after seeing him shutting his eyes first—smoothly and bit by bit. It is the most beautiful and pleasing thing. I wish and in fact do pray that nothing will come to blow apart and break up our gorgeous moments. Each mild rap of his, each rushed stroke that he makes, each steadied blow that he efforts—I can feel it to the last hilt and inch with my body and moreover revel and enjoy it to the concluding completeness and tastiness and breadth and span. My goodness. This is so breathtaking and splendid indeed. It without doubt  is.


The tea is sweet and yummy tasting. Yes. As lip-smacking as the great sex that I was having with Stian some hours past. Since it is seriously and if truth be told hot and searing, I sip it bit by bit and with awareness. Yes. I don’t want to burn up and set ablaze my dearest lips. I don’t want to do that. It would be plain dire and awful. For the mean time, I am by myself in the bulky living room. Dressed in a lime dress that ends somewhere underneath my knees. Stian is off for work—at Rovich Main Hospital, here in Rovich, Iceberg, where we are both based. Ours, Iceberg, is a country farthest off north of Europe. It is an islet to be precise. A vast and mammoth isle that is twice the dimension of England. We are footed in the middle of the Arctic Ocean and out of 365 days in a particular year, we have only 90 days with which to enjoy summer and the sun when it flickers and flares in its richness and great vigor. Primarily the phase from February to April. The remainder of the year is this insufferably cold and frozen and nippy. All ice and snowy and blustery and breezy.


What may be the principal and largest leading race on this isle of ours, you may speculate? There are natives of all nationalities here. Inhabitants from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Russia, England, France, Iceland, Canada…those of Norwegian ethnic group and descent are the most governing and principal nonetheless, followed by those of French and Russian and Swedish and English origins.


In Iceberg, Norwegian and Russian and French and English are the official languages. Most citizens are familiar and even grasp on to all of them. Including I myself; Ragnhild Ascwin. 


I don’t bear in mind who I am exactly. But I can commit to memory tads and bits and pieces about my life and my olden-times. However, I don’t know whether these reminiscences of mine are genuine or not. I trust that they are not invented accounts and illusions. I trust so.  I was eighteen years old back then when I met Stain and first fell in love with him. Yes. I was purely and ingenuously eighteen years old when I happened on him. 


“Tonight…I am going to fuck and rump and screw you up in my underwear,” as Stian voices out the syrupy, succulent-like words to me, I am iced up still and winded; him grasping me in my beneath knee lawn-shade-like dress, I myself trembling and shuddering powerlessly and vulnerably in his unyielding grip. The initiative of him having sex with me in his underwear intrigues and enthralls and mesmerizes me completely. So, so, so, so much indeed. I marvel what style and shape of underwear he is putting on. Much less its tint and brand name. Is it as gray as his working trouser suit? With some waxeness on it—that complete whiteness of his stretched coat?


“What about I myself?” I raise to him steadily and unperturbedly. “Will I be authorized and conserted to put on my own sort of fancied underwear or what?”


“You can have on anything that you feel like. If you feel like it doing it, be fully undressed and naked.”


At a snail's pace but with conviction, Stian stirs his strikingly handsome face close to mine; his eyes reviewing and studying mine; his tattered, patchy-like breath wafting and zephyring on my skin. I love it! So, so, so, so much indeed. I know what else he is going to do to me. Kiss and snog and canoodle me suddenly but stalwartly and stoutly; and I cannot cool my heels for it to happen right away.


His lips graze and scrape over mine, his tongue butting into its way into my mouth progressively so as to thump and batter with mine as well. Yes. I am in the coming life never-ending planet right now. The Elysium or Elysian fields even. While Stian smooches and snogs me, he slithers his right hand straight into my roseate-colored panties and strokes and brushes and fingers my yoni. My God! This is so tasty and delectable. I love it. So, so, so, so very much indeed.


Stian is so close to me right now that I can feel his John Thomas go erect and rigid in his snug, comfy underwear. He is clothed in nothing but a basic pitch-black shirt and dazzling pitchy underwear that flaunts and uncovers his massive and hulking and well-built and lip-smacking seeming thighs. I myself on the other hand am in my lonesome salmon underwear and nothing else. Yes. My breasts and remainder self is this stark bare and uncovered even though it is appallingly and awfully cold and freezing. And I love it!! Yo-hoo!


Pulling out away from me for a little while, Stian Elbert snatches a jagged and prickly razor blade from the close-by table in our hefty-sized living room right next to a mammoth sleeper chaise longue with bedspreads and coverlets on it—where we are going to fall asleep only after having sex—and he uses it to slash and hack through my panties on the site where my punani or vulva hole is footed. He is so cautious and scrupulous in his feat that he does not slash or incise my vagina itself. And after completing this, with my legs wrenched apart, he prods and bashes his finger humorously and fleetingly into my vagina hole. Ahhh…I whine silently and wordlessly in sweet enjoyment and stare up at the spacious gold-like ceiling above, shutting my eyes for a transient while to be entertained and find satisfaction the concise pussy fingering. This is so sweet. Satisfyingly sweet indeed. Arghhh!


Now is my turn. As he shoves and presses on himself toward me so that the already massive and hardened cock veiled in his underwear swells and lumps out, his full-of-flavor and scrumptious thighs looking more sweetened and appetizing to touch and feel against my skin, I seize the remarkably spiky and blunted medical razor blade that he is taking hold of in his hand and then use it to slice through his abyssal, cavernous black underwear until I have unveiled and laid out to apparent view his huge, unbendable, and hoisted-up wang joystick. Goodness! It is so giant and so appetizing. I want it to bash and slap in my womb—right this instant.


Harshly and circumspectly, Stian bows and bends me down over the chaise longue, towing my legs wide apart while hauling me up so that he slots in and pops in his monster chopper and sweet schlong into me properly and satisfactorily. My! I love the ambiance and sensations its head—or crown— stirs as it trinkets and toys with the lips—or thick opening—of my cunt. Uhmmnnn! Lovalicious…


For a few minutes or five, the cranium of Stian’s vertical penis fools around and dallies about with the aperture and gateway and rift of my vulva. I love the sentiments and sugariness that rouse and stir along with such sort of movements. It is all dreamy and heavenly like. And I have my eyes sealed all the lengthy while that he does that to me. I do not want him to bring it to an ending. Not ever! 


The moment he compresses through his congealed-up dick into the inner depths of my cunt, I at once tear and split my eyes open. He then thrusts himself towards me and away from me at the same, prodding and ramming his hulking great and eye-catching thighs against me so hard and nice that I cannot help it but screech and squeal out in concentrated and deep bliss and contentment. Sex is so pleasurable and filling up.


My in-part dry as a bone vagina goes drenched and sodden from the load and freight of chalky-like cum that he hurls and loads up inside of me. It feels like sugary nectar sticking and gumming in the walls of my womb, furnishing and replenishing it well and agreeably to some great degree. Whenever he pulls out his penis slightly out of me, part of his jissom and come slips out along with it to run and surge down my heaved-up thighs that Stian himself is clutching resolutely and bearing up.


Plus Scene******************************************


Oh. Stian massages and strokes the nut or noddle of his gigantic, full-size penis on the brilliant crimson lips of my vagina. It is a pleasant and breathtaking feeling and exploit indeed. So enjoyable and superb that I do not want anything to splinter and raze away our saccharine, errant reverie. The way he does it…unhurriedly and quietly and satisfactorily and with awareness…it sets my whole flesh afire and ablaze…predominantly that spot and where-about where my vivid cherry-colored pussy is set and positioned. Ashhh. This is so blissful and fantastic indeed. I luv it!


Leisurely and lightly, Stian places his giant cock in and out of my vagina. He repeats the same thing again and again until I am so submerged and engrossed and absorbed in this bottomless cavity of greatest orgasm that I do not even know how to return my way back to realism. It is the most beautiful and remarkable thing ever. If the concentrated pleasure is not suffice to slay and wipe me out from being, then I frankly do not know what it is that is going to do specifically just that. In and out; in and out; he slides his penis into my fissure smoothly and charily and then rapidly and suddenly pulls it out it while gazing down at me where I am laying down stationary and stock-still on the enormous chaise longue beneath.


Smack! Spank! Slap! His buttocks start to wiggle and waggle and jiggle and juggle and hop and sway madly and uncontrollably behind as he slams in and out of me concurrently and in just the ideal chorus, prompting me to weep and orgasm and bleat directly and without delay. My, my! I am dying with too much enjoyment and contentment. Positively. Damn-it in any case!


“Arghhh!” I cry out.


Stian only clenches his teeth, whipping a glance down at me every once in a while. My goodness! He is so terrifically beautiful and handsome at the same time. Which is one basis why I am taking pleasure in all this to the very last hilt and plummet. He crooks himself down closer to me, gasping in and out faster and more faster, his thrusts and pulling-outs themselves become more quicker and quicker—and I cannot reason but to moan and howl and bawl out all the more. Stian, you are without doubt killing me. Gradually but surely. Is this how brilliant and exceptional a man is supposed and expected to fuck his wife?


Shit! The world about me darkens and grows dim in the darting and flitting of a split second. I think I am dying. Sinking in an ocean and marine of painless bliss and gratification to never wake up again and taste the savor and flavor of reality for another time. And how so accurate is this? As factual and spot-on as the fact that you are gulping in mouthfuls of air and translating this in your mind right this very instant. Yes; it is all undeniably and indisputably so true indeed.





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 Elbert. 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 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 was 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 him 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 his finger in its substance mass progressively and leisurely and conscientiously nice. I like the way that his fingers scratch 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 aggressive and vicious 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 with 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.


“Shit,” Stian puts this into words in my ears, murmuring softly to be precise. I am keen on it whenever he nibble 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 with my punani—or eager cherry pussy. I want that enormous dick of his so, so bad. Honestly speaking. I want it badly—and right now.


“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 suck 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, Ragnhuld? Be straight with me please.”


“Of course, I am liking I 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!




“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 ejaculate and shots 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 felt like his dick was too large and gigantic for me, huge and strapping enough to slash and rip apart my darling most vagina. Would it in any case?


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 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 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 grueling 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 grate and nick my nails 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. And I detest it way, way, way too bad. Damn him for it!


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 ache, 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. No, he didn’t! 





Stian Elbert and I myself—Ragnhild Aswin—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. Gash our throats with a piercingly knife for it if you feel like doing it.


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 indeed.”


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 to arrive our way at the beach. I want sex right now and I yearn for it so bad. I would murder and even curse if it is bearable and allowable just so to 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 very funny and intriguing indeed. 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 worn-out and dead beat.”


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 accomodated 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 glares and grimaces at me, 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. That 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

Submitted: January 03, 2015

© Copyright 2023 livbeornwulf. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Other Content by livbeornwulf

Book / General Erotica

Short Story / Adult Romance

Short Story / Adult Romance