Sex du Juor: Fuck Me In This Forest - Sex Stories

Sex du Juor: Fuck Me In This Forest

... 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! ...