1. Laws of Attraction: The Playgirl


    Date: 10/13/2015, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Anal, BDSM, Incest, Romance, Young, Author: Liv Beornwulf, Rating: 0, Source: sexstories.com

    without filth or mud when it is running in a long, raw stream. I wish all of this didn’t come about in the first place. If permitted solely one wish by God, I would turn down riches undreamed of; just to begin a neat and orderly page in my life. Three days into college, I crashed into this handsome young man. He looked brave and shrewd; he was in flawless shape. From his uncluttered brown hair, down to his active feet, he was a marvel to stare at. Wherever he passed, girls would wheel their heads around to gaze at him, awed and filled with unutterable delight. I didn’t know he was watching me that particular night. I was taking my ease quietly on the library chair, when I rapidly checked around on random impulse, and noticed the fine-looking guy goggling in my direction. He was all smiles in self-assurance. I didn’t have the stomach to do what he did. I just smiled back at him, shamefaced, and hurriedly stared away. Frankly, I was embarrassed with everything that had happened. “Tyrone Emerson is my name. May I be acquainted with yours please?” He petitioned the second time we ran into each other inside the coffee bar overlooking my classroom. I was with my room mate, Julie Evans, or Mrs. De La Vega. She is thinner than me, with long, curly dark red hair. “I’m Phoebe Jones, a first year undergraduate doing Criminology. What are you pursuing here at Wotton?” I am aware. Most men detest it when a woman asks them what they do for a living, or contemplate to do in the future. I ...
    had fine reasons for propounding this to him. “I’m doing Economics, as in aspiring to become an economist. Like you, this is my first time being here.” Julie had this searching look on her face. I’m not saying she had also been struck by the spell of infatuation over this nice-looking guy. We were seated just the two of us when he surfaced out of nowhere and sat down on the stool closest to me. Tyrone and I became friendly with each other. To my flush of excitement, I realized he lodged in the structure facing mine. Mine was a girls’ only hostel. His was a men’s exclusively dwelling. Our compartments, or rooms, overlooked each other to make matters breathtaking. This was starting to appall me, truthfully. It was like circumstances were setting us together, like destiny knew that we were meant for each other. Possibly we were—that was the impression I was starting to get. One premature evening, while I sat down not far away from my glassed wall, doing an Identity Theft assignment on my laptop, the telephone chimed, and I rushed to answer it, thinking it was mom who was calling. “Mom, how nice it is to hear back from you. I have been ringing your line more than the millionth time now. Up till this moment, you were not responding. What did I do to deserve this harsh treatment from you?” “Phoebe, this is Tyrone. I’m not your mom, which you believe me to be. I have been watching you do your assignment on your apparatus—your Dell, I mean—from my flat here. I just wanted to alert you ...
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