Sex du Juor: Dinner Fantasies

Nimbly; seemingly brusquely; and incisively; Stian's lips skim and graze against mine, igniting and making my blood boil and foment with lewdness and libido. Deep down all this, I wish and yearn and long to gasp and gulp both inside and outwardly. I ache and itch to do all this and so much more. Yet I am not fitted and proficiently endowed to transact and pull off it. Why methodically, you may ponder and be curious? I have no any slight dealings or knowledge or awareness of that. Maybe it is because I have given way and knuckled myself over to Stian's slurping and siphoning and supping like kisses. Perchance yes; peradventure not!

As he smooches and cannodles and pecks and snogs me all the more jellified and stiff and jelled, he takes me in his arms and grasps and squeezes me, patting and fondling my spread out and charming flame brown hair pleasurably and pleasingly well. How am I supposed to respond and take the bait back to this? I merely and solely cuddle and hold him taut and hermetic-like as well, straightening and stretching myself out so he can brush and scrape my velvety smooth, silky cushiony-like skin with his lenient, easy-going, and touchy-feely lips. Yes! He is the exemplary and superlative crown and beau ideal of this! He far and away and come hell or high water is this and so much more further.

The keenness and ardor and fire between the two of us is vehement and heartfelt and frenzied and lustfully aroused. We nibble and snap and champ each other's loopy, squidgy lips with our fixedly dense and fit-as-a-fiddle teeth. Not that we work it out with objectives and designs and intents to whisk and blend and rouse the other's soreness and trouble and shooting twinge! Everything that we effect is worked out roguishly and jokey-like and coyly. Precisely that at most!

Back once again to the university days, as I relax in my bed this very night, my mind wanders back to those glorious moments that I have spent with Stian Elberd. His appearance, his excellent smile, his spotless-looking olive skin, his pleasing hair, his insane-like-charming eyes, especially during when they are lit up with that blooming glow and brilliance that lights them up whenever he smiles. Everything about him is to the hilt fascinating and enchanting. Oh yes, it definitely is!

With Stian in my mind, I sleep like a newly born baby, pathetically pitiable and feeling unaffected by anything and enveloped in a protective sheet of whole and guarding love. When I break my eyes open, morning has curtly dawned with the birds chirping and caroling and twittering outside. My custom is as usual. Eat and then wash and finally doll myself up for school. I am not going there to learn. Classes for first year students have not yet began and neither have the results of our interviews come out yet. Meaning that I do not know whether I have been accepted for attendance at the institution or not.

I stroll the library and designing division of the institute like mad. My objective? To find out if there were ample and sufficient Fashion and Design textbooks and property supplies and any other applicable and suitable stuff. There are to my excessive delight and joy. I almost scream and throw myself down to the floor in madness and paroxysm. This morning is one of the happiest days in my entire life! Yes, I have had my very own fair share of unhappy and broken-hearted days and as such do I not deserve to be entitled, even for a split second, to one fortunate and blessed and happy and prosperous day? In my perspective I sure am qualified for that.

They have a library specifically for those who were studying Fashion and Design here at the institute. A massive and elaborate and well-ornamented library, and not a subdivision or subsection within one large library. They also have a practical hall where there are all sorts of equipment and machinery used in the manufacture and designation of clothes; sewing machines; knitting machines; designation tools and gadgets. The list and market, sorry, it should be treasure, is this endless and infinite. Everything is there. Not precisely every little bit of thing. For the foremost part, almost everything required is available.

This is how I had dressed up: Blue cotton pants, a blue blouse, white mid-heels, and a gray farther-reaching jacket. I am this immaculate and stainless, but by no means heavily bedecked and ornamented. No, I am not.

While grabbing away from the shelf one F&D textbook, a manful voice, still and low, addresses me from behind, "Morning, sweet angel."

I turn around as quickly as I can. My eyes stretch wide in endearment and shock, my mouth dropping low, my forehead puckering and creasing up. I am just plain damn shocked and entranced at the same time. Whoowy! Stian is just plain damn...gorgeous and magnetic!

Stian smiles gently and strokes my cheek lightly as he did so. Wow! It feels like...like...like bliss and rapture. As much as I become still and quiet as though I am averse to it, I fancy and crave it like nothing else. It is the most delicate and precious touch in my life. Ever.

"Are you okay?" He asks, having noticed how so quiet and unresponsive I am after a long time.

"I am fine."

He arranges nicely threads of my hair that have been disordered and messed up by the gushing wind. I like that too; even though I do not inform him about it. Being touched by the man that you are lusting after? How many of you know how pleasant and delightful that is? How many of you understand how delirious and light-headed it makes the world around you go?

"What was it that you really wanted to tell me? I am curious to know."

"How really curious are you?"

While we walk, Stian's hand is firm and unshakable on mine. His fingers play and handle mine in such a thrilling and electrifying manner that makes it obvious that he as well has got a crush on me. Whoohoo! Hurray! Not only am I in love with this boy. He is also in love with me on the other hand. Which assures me that things between us are headed somewhere at least. Oh yes, they are!

We chat and giggle and stare and smile as we go on our way. That has some group of guys and girls hovering nearby stop what they are doing and discussing and pay unreserved and unwavering attention to the two of us. The reflection and study of most guys stays and lingers on me. It disturbs and unsettles some even. It sure does. I glare back at them lamentably and woefully. What is it about us that deserves to garner such kind of attention and watchfulness? What precisely?

At reaching his friend's door—located on floor 'Thirteen' of the 'Pine' building—Stian tries it and scowls at discovering that it has been locked up and bolted. He snaps, "Damn," to himself and then flashes me an apologetic smile.

"Is there any problem?" I am alarmed and up on my toes in no time—not specifically standing up on my physical toes but immaterial ones as I am in an apprehensive state of nervousness and anxiety.

"No," Stian quickly replies, granting me another excusatory smile. "All is fine. It is just that Max, Maxwell I mean, has his room locked and kept out of bounds. Don't worry though. I will ring him up to find out if he is nearby or not. Just give me a second please."

"No problem."

He is like flames and combustion and blazes themselves. This is what he verily and genuinely is. He makes me go up in fiery and unbearably hot fire; he flickers and flares me up to sear and char and tingle and glow with lechery and wantonness of sex and him until I am nothing but vulnerable and incapable of rebutting anything come-hither and sexy and suggestive that he says to me. I crave and long for him so much...so, so much indeed...don't you yourself?