Sex du Juor: The Parking Lot

It is pitch-black and darksome and poorly lit outside; outside of the car that is. The clouds too, just like the sky, are tenebrous and overcast and dusky and gray. I breathe out and suspire deeply and acutely as I look at them. Yes. Stian Elberd is perched and settled in this car of ours right next to me in the driver's stall, and when I gaze at him, he strikes me as being studious and reflective and cogitative; ruminative and cogitative of what? I am not acquainted with that either.

"Stian," I whine and rumble out his name, swigging and swilling saliva down my throat as I do so. Uhmmnnn! My voice sounds to some degree craggy and rugged and two-fisted. Like I am in a gone-bad and embittered state and frame of mind. Am I genuinely? I don't know...verily...

"Yes, Ragnhild," he responds serenely and coolly, gazing and gawping at me in a not so impolite or insulting or unmannerly way. Damn me for that! I feel ashamed and remorseful and conscience-stricken for having been so uncivil and discourteous and ill-mannered with him. Crap. Shit me to hell if you feel like it.

"Aren't we going back home?" I query him kindheartedly and nicely thoughtful this time around, "I mean we are finished and over with all the shopping and buying things that ushered us our way here to this mart and supermarket, is not it so?"

He first looks at me vaguely and imprecisely and then expresses the following to me, "You are on the right lines, Ragnhild. But we aren't going back home anytime soon until after we have...have...fucked each other up in this dingy and nonpublic or in-camera car of ours, my beloved bride. Don't you like the plan and strategy of mine?"

My goodness! We are having what I must put in words here as 'shopping sex.' You can dub and mark it out as 'sex at the end of purchases and buys' if you feel like it. Holy goodness! What is this queer proposition and recommendation and theory of Stian? Is it too logical and sound to you? To me, it hell way too far is—I without question and definitely want to have sex with him right here inside our car, inexorably and beyond the shadow of any doubt. He is my spouse and hubby after all. And I am his revered and cherished and intimate wife on the other hand. We both have a rightful place and fit in with each other, don't you believe so? Obviously!

"Now, slip off your panties off you, will you, my most favorite and dearest sweetheart," Stian lures ad entices me in a very playboy and lady-killer like tone and power of speech. My goodness! That on its own is sufficient and as much as is needed to get me all damp and soaked and drenched inside of my vagina. My emotions and sentiments themselves are all sugary and sweetened and icky. Yeah. For real!

Of course! He is all too wary and circumspect and on the qui vive and up on his toes. He studies and notes and monitors every move and man-oeuvre of mine that I transact, sweeping and scrubbing his glad, merry lips with his jolly and over-elated tongue. My goodness! Is he also going to lick my vagina?

"Excellent!" He at last exclaims to me once I am all finished and accomplished through with the uncomplicated and straightforward assignment and chore that he as of lately and not-long-ago allocated and assigned to me. "Now shut your eyes. I have got a small surprise and package for you."

I am cudgeling my brains and asking myself on what that could be when the words abruptly and all of a sudden make their way out of my mouth—yes—even without my consent and go-ahead and authorization. Damn me for that! Fuck me to hell for it instead! "What is that pygmy surprise and Lilliputian package of yours to me, Stian?"

He grimaces and scowls at me promptly and unhesitatingly, whirling and reeling his eyes at me in annoyance and vexation as he does so. "Just close your eyes, Ragnhild—my darling and babe. Is that rocklike and intricate Chinese merely for you to empathize with and act out? Is it, Ragnhild, my sole sweetheart and babe?"

"Fine, Stian! I will do just what you have demanded and decreed of me." And that is what I precisely and scrupulously do. I shut and make barred fast my eyes, breathing in and at length out inchmeal and at my very own pace and good time. Who-ow-wie! What astonishment and wonder of his is he keeping under wraps from me? What exactly? I marvel and sit dumbstruck and filled with awe and curiosity...I can only be in awe and wonderment.

Holy spanker! Is that not his hand that I feel stirring and budging up my thighs and humongous, attractive legs themselves? Yes. It surely is his hand beyond any misgiving or lack of conviction, but then he is gripping and latching on to something, something that brushes and skims past my skin, filling me with chiming and jingling and jangling jollies and beers and skittles. My goodness! I pray that his catch-napping and come down on me like a bolt from the blue turns out to be treacle and honeyed and icky like the dingy and darksome sky and heavens about me...I entreat so...

Unexpectedly and on the spur of the moment, he is inside of my vagina—not him specifically, but that device and body and item that he is bracing and cradling in his hand. I can feel it smoothly and warily and charily smack and whack and flog the inner sides and interior of my vagina and clitoris. Great! This is so stunning and sensational and eye-popping. No. I don't open or unclose my eyes because of its breath-taking and gee-whizz stroke and knell and strapping thump. I still have my eyes shut and fastened. Don't you? Toot-sie!

Arghhhh...This gadget or gizmo or doo-dah that Stian is grasping is twisted and crooked and angled. I mean it. I can feel its tortuous and crippled-like and out-of-shape upper flange or contour or threshold worm and slink about—both inside and outside of my contented cunt pleasurably and enjoyably—buzz-kicking and flushing me with just too much excitement and stir and titillation and vibration. As my womb auspiciously and gleefully and blithely vibrates and fluctuates and oscillates and judders, my remainder and rest entire-self pulsates and throbs and reverberates too—all in counterblast and response to the droning and humming and thumping and reverberation of that whatsit and thingummy and doo-dah that Stian is whisking and rustling and stimulating about my vagina and pussy. Damn him! Triple crap!

"Ragnhild," he whoops and yells out my name, murmuring and hissing in soft tones a bit too loud in other words.

"Yes, Stian," I answer back with all speed and like greased lightning, shivering and vibrating and palpitating as I do that.

"Ragnhild, how delectable and delicious is this thing inside your vagina?"

"So; so; so delicious and pleasing; Stian."

"Must I give you more of it or quit doing all of this right this moment?"

"No, don't break off doing all of this, Stian! Gimme more of this...gimme more of this, honey!"

"Boffo then! Here comes more."

He rams and pokes and prods the gadget and whatsit more and more deeper into my pussy and cunt, and as soon as he is finished and over with that, he starts smacking and cuffing and flogging it all the more faster and quicker and pleasant into me, and I give my word, I feel it deflect and warp and incurvate inside of my vagina.

"Stian," for a stretch and interval of time, I lament and howl out my eyes at him, all thrilled and glad and delighted and ecstatic. Please take note that at this specific moment my eyes are still shut and fastened close. Yeah...they sure are!

"Yes," he retorts back elitely and genteelly.

"Stian, I feel like that tool and instrument of yours is going to splinter and crack into two inside my vagina. Be more cautious and painstaking with it please, will you?" I ask this question merely as piece and bit of my gag and practical joke to get him leaking and letting out to me as regards what he is fucking and romping up my damn and sweet cunt with...all without me snapping and breaking up my eyes open. And boy, conjecture what? My gag surely turns out to be a mega success!

"You mean...the banana?"

Goodness! There is no more puzzle or teaser or uncertainty about it, or is there still any? Stian happened to fuck and bang my vagina with a godforsaken damn banana? Can you imagine that? How foolhardy and gogga of him! Dammit! Yet I still love and adulate it, don't you yourself?

At this point in time, I snap and tear open my eyes, horribly stunned and staggered and confound. Yes. The instant I prowl and rove around with my eyes, I see and discover that he has a godforsaken damn banana fixed and lodged inside of my vagina. I raise my voice to him forthwith and pronto, "What is a fuckin' banana doing inside my vagina, Stian? Is this the virgin and alien kind of surprise that you are having and keeping for me? Is this it, you childish...goofy...dumb-ass boy?"

In embarrassment and ignominy, he flutters and flits shut and open his eyes, seemingly having no any enlightenment and science of what to do next, until he without warning and in an instant starts to kiss and smooch and canoodle me madly and hysterically. As I am all libidinous and lascivious, I give in to his kissing without much of a row or wrangle. Yes. That is what I assuredly and exactly do to him. I lay down arms to his government and influence. I certainly do.

Goodness! These kisses and smooches and canoodles of Stain. They are gloriously and beautifully sweetened and sugary and honeyed. Yes, they beyond doubt are. The way he uncloses and unlatches open and unbarred his mouth adjoining and neighboring to mine, the way he smacks and whacks and clobbers his tongue against mine, the way he inhales and exhales and wheezes and gasps straight into my face...it is all so icky and syrupy and treacly and cloying that I cannot help or relieve it at all. Stian is just plain damn striking and staggering and sensational at it. For real!

For an instant he refrains from necking and smooching me to gawp and eyeball me soundlessly and speechlessly. What? What is it that he is going to specifically say to me now? What expressly?

"I love you, Ragnhild—so, so, so very much. I trust that you are aware and conscious of it, are you?"

"Yes, I am aware and conscious of that, Stian. I really and truly am."

"Good. Do you love me as well?"

"Do you question and have any reservations about my love and affection of you?"

"No, I don't. I just want to be positive and clear about it. It is all I want; to hear it straight from you and be satisfied and assured and free from doubt always."

"Well then, in that case, I must say that I have on every occasion loved you, Stian, and I will day in and day out continue to think the world of you. I will surely and verily keep on idolizing and being in love with you."

"You cross your heart."

As I grin and beam from ear to ear propitiously and auspiciously, I willingly and with lief pleasure mention to him, "Yes, Stian, I do cross my heart on that indeed; verily."

"And with regards to my surprise? Did you like it?"

I chime and peal and buzz with wellbeing and beatitude at just that. I assuredly and for certain loved that banana of his having fun and frolicking freely and blissfully with my vagina. "Yes, Stian. I absolutely and positively loved your surprise package for me. I undeniably and come hell or high water did."

Arghhhh! Ooo-oosh! Stian's large and immensely attractive fingers are in my pussy and cunt, tapping and stabbing and poking inside there. Yeah. It is super. It is excellent. It is cracking topping. I adore and cherish and treasure it when he does this. It gladdens and tickles me pink. It gives me paramount most pleasure and utopia and Eden and every inch and wonderfully prepares and makes me ready for sex. That is what it does...without fail.

I catch my breath; I gulp and slurp down speedily and hastily sharp intakes of active, cracking, and headlong breaths. He necks and snogs and canoodles and pecks me all the more faster and delightfully and enjoyably, beating and knocking seven bells of bliss and delectation out of my pussy below with his lengthy, hulking, spectacular, and strenuous fingers—and as he does and accomplishes all this, he is inclining and tilting and slanting himself over me in the passenger's seat, bright-eyed and bush-tailed.

Stian; the passion and endearment of my life; the guy and chap and dude of my dreams; I love him so very much...don't you yourself?

For a little and ephemeral while and whim, he stoops and inclines himself down so that he can inurn and embed in his tongue deep into my pussy and cunt down there. Yeah. He does it steadily and by gradual and measured but definite degrees at first, then, as he presses on and on, he boosts and steps us his rapidity and quickness, lapping and licking his tongue into me all the hell lot faster and faster. Yeah. It is all sugary and honey-like indeed.