Though I feel kinda weird posting this to a class blog, here is my attempt at a Bökian prurient debauch that is not so “fratty” sounding.
“Hi,” Isis sighs. It is midnight; Philip’s visit is illicit. Philip, flirting, tilts his chin, inviting Isis’s kiss. Livid with thirst, Isis bids Philip impish lips. Philip strips Isis’s nightshirt, wrinkling silk, his digits digging in Isis’s skin. Fiddling with Philip’s zip, Isis is imbibing his thick spit which drips. Isis is pinching Philip’s nips. Fighting ticklish misgivings, Philip is disinclining Isis’s clinch. Philip grips Isis’s thighs, kissing Isis’s midriff till his thirsting lips find Isis’s pink prism. First Isis is stiff, timid. Isis’s will wilts. Is it his skill which did it? Philip licks Isis’s clit whilst Isis twists with grinding hips. Indistinct lightning is tingling Isis within. Isis is finishing, writhing in thrill. Isis’s spirits lift, thinking “This is right.” Isis wrings Philip’s rising dick with firm wrists. Philip is jiggling Isis’s tidbits. His firming prick slips in Isis’s crib. Philip finds bliss within, lifting Isis’s hips. Isis whips Philip, wild with whim. Philip is whining, twitching. Philip spills his jizz. In dim lighting it isn’t vivid; Isis is missing his sprinkling.