SMS Sex

Stian Elberd has made tracks off to work hours back. But I long to see him anew and even ache for him like I have last caught a glimpse of him in centuries. Perchance I have; perhaps I have not. As I ensconce myself in the pale gray divan at our still and hushed home, with nothing more than to work out and bear on myself, I take hold of my cell that is lodged on a pint-sized slab counter adjacent to me, and snatch it leisurely and unhurriedly so that I can make use of it in forwarding and mailing the ensuing SMS to him.

My vagina is regretting the absence of your John Thomas. She cannot tolerate his absenteeism.

In just forty undeviating seconds, he echoes back.

John Thomas is hard-pressed and industriously busy right now. He does not want to be interfered and pestered with. Sweetened, dearest Vagina better find something else to execute. You can practice self-abuse or onanism with her if you crave to.

I am so mystified and flummoxed I can’t find any comfort or restfulness in myself.

What do you hint at by saying that John Thomas is hard-pressed and industriously busy. Is he having fun with another Vagina Number Two right now?

Stian is edgy and cantankerous just as much as I am.

That is not what I had in mind, Ragnhild, when I composed my not-long-past text to you. John Thomas is engrossed deep into forty winks or beauty sleep in my Dolce and Gabana underclothing or underwear right now. Why do you want to rouse him from his zizz. Is that not what you purpose to do? Is that not it?

I chuckle and snigger to myself at poring over Stian’s all-singing and latest text. Fuck him to hell!

I want John Thomas to bestir from his dormancy and snooze, you hear? Vagina is all pissed off and outcast and lonesome and companionless here. I connote that it is not reasonable and justly fair, or is it? You must school and coach John Thomas not to be sleepy and drowsy and work-shy, for the most part in broad sunlight like this. Daylight hours are for labor and sweat and night hours are for shuteye and repose. If John Thomas desires slumber, he can access and acquire it no more than in the night hours. Do you get that?

I was curious and nosy-parkering on what Stian’s riposte to that would be. Like I did not forecast and think likely, I was unbearably and terribly awe-shocked and rude-awakened and blow-staggered by the mode and course-of-action that he utilized to riposte back to me.

Excellent! You have triumphed and prevailed, Ragnhild. John Thomas is at long last roused from his sleep and bed. Now what do you have to pull off with him. What now?

Phew. At long last I have smash hit the jackpot and couped up the Sexually Whipping-up bonsela or trophy. Yuppie! Now the grand stroke and feat begins, must not it commence? I certainly and categorically surmise and presume so myself.

I want to suck and slurp and up and quaff him with my lips first. After that, I am going to grab the lollipop that I am gripping and clasping in my hands now, and after stroking and caressing it on John Thomas so that he slops out and tips over a great deal of scorching and scalding hot scum on it, I am going to chew and much the lollipop itself in my merry and jubilant mouth until I am so sweltering and sultry even as your jissom itself is.

Stian is short-winded and out of breath all because of that. His feedback insinuates that. I suppose so.

Fabulous! That is amazingly brilliant cracking. My goodness…John Thomas is about to let out the aboil, piping hot jissom. Nab and capture it on your lollipop, will you, Ragnhild?

I take a deeply and heart felt breath, pivoting and gyrating and  wheeling my eyes as I do so.

I am all set and in readiness, Stian. Notify that to John Thomas, will you please?

He blusters and spouts out back without hesitation.

HERE I COME, RAGNHILD! OOHHHH! TAKE ALL OF THIS JISSOM FROM JOHN THOMAS IF YOU CAN…NAB IT ALL, SWEETY!

And I work out just that…