Sex Du Juor

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."