Sex du Juor: The Office - Sex Stories

Sex du Juor: The Office

... 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 ...