Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 234281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1171(@200wpm)___ 937(@250wpm)___ 781(@300wpm)
"One finger first."
Her middle finger hovered over her slit.
"Up and down, darling. That's how you stroke it. Slowly."
And because she had submission down pat, she did exactly as instructed, and it had his balls aching so damn hard he knew he only had minutes left before his orgasm hit him.
"Now, push it inside slowly..."
He saw the head of her finger disappear, and he growled, "Yes. Exactly like that. Deeper now."
She moaned as she went knuckle deep, and he groaned with her.
"It's too much," Diana gasped.
"Then pull it out..."
Another moan.
"Push it back in."
More moans.
And this time, her body began to undulate, her breasts swinging and her hips squirming on the chair.
"You know how it is," he rasped. "Do it as fast and hard as you want."
And so her finger thrust in and out faster and harder, and her moans turned into helpless panting.
"Yes, just like that."
Diana moaned, and his strokes quickened.
"P-Professor..."
"Yes," he growled. "GOD, YES."
She screamed as she came, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Mijn obsessie.
And a dark stain spread over his jeans as he climaxed right behind her.
Her
It Must Have Been Love by Kathleen Edwards
DIANA WONDERED IF PEOPLE could tell how happy she was, just by looking at her.
She didn't think so, but neither did she think she was imagining the way she was attracting more glances than usual. And since her looks or taste in fashion hadn't changed in any way, then...it was that, wasn't it?
People could tell how much being with the professor was making her happy.
Butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach, and she had an actively hard time resisting the urge to skip and clap her heels together for the rest of her short walk to the university's civic hall. In keeping with the university's Neo Gothic theme, the structure also boasted of turrets and spires and Helder Meer's ever-present (mascot) gargoyle. Past its majestic front doors, however, the building seemed to undergo several centuries' worth of makeover, with its sleek, industrial interiors and state-of-the-art facilities.
There was even an AI robot named Krystal manning the concierge, and it was like having a ten-year-old version of Siri to interact with as she keyed in her ID number and explained (verbally) what she was there for.
First-year students like Diana were required to schedule a minimum of three meetings with a life coach, and after verifying her details, Krystal texted her timeslot details.
Mr. Aart Bakker
2/F Room A-3
1400 - 1500
Checking her watch, Diana saw that she still had about thirty minutes to spare and took off for the library. She still had a couple of critical passages to reread from St. Augustine's Confessiones, which - albeit not dealing directly with suicide - helped Diana considerably in establishing a causal relationship between the depth of one's faith and depression.
While she did believe depression was a medical condition, she was also of the (unpopular) opinion that depression, at certain points of one's life, was the result of fallacious perceptions and misinformed decisions.
Depression could and was more likely to happen if a person (or, as far as her thesis was concerned, an individual of the Catholic persuasion) failed to appreciate that true happiness was one of the soul. Eudaimonia was the term the Greeks used for this particular state while Saint Augustine explained it more eloquently, having written in his autobiography:
What does love look like?
It has the hands to help others.
It has the feet to hasten to the poor and needy.
It has eyes to see misery and want.
It has the ears to hear the sighs and sorrows of men.
That is what love looks like.
Settling down on one of the empty tables at the back, Diana propped her iPad up and drummed her fingers on the desk as she considered how to best frame her thoughts.
If depression is the outcome of either a person's tendency or unconscious choice to prioritize a lesser form of love, then could this not be effectively rectified by revealing the truest and purest nature of love, and in so doing show what true happiness constitutes?
Not a perfectly conclusive premise, but it was a start at least, and Diana slowly began to type. The words flowed relatively easily, and by the time her alarm went off, she was glad to see that she had been able to write an additional two pages for her thesis.
Since life was so good, she thought contentedly, it should follow that she must be doing God's will. That, after, all was what true happiness was about.
Right, Saint M?
Diana had her answer some minutes later when her first life coaching session commenced with a MoU between Helder Meer and its students.
"Our university likes to keep it simple," Mr. Bakker explained, "which is why we have this in lieu of the typical student handbook. I'm here to answer any questions you may have, and if there happens to be any issue we're unable to resolve, you can raise it with either the Student Council or the University Board during our monthly assembly."