Tyler Kalmakoff

Submissive sensations tingling down your spine? Does restraint rock your world, or the whisper of your girl tickling and teasing your ear lobe as she tells of the humiliation she intends to subject your senses to, resulting in moans so loud they could rival her own, keeping her neighbours awake? Can you say slinky, sexy, seductive and sinful? Nevermind, you don’t have to. It’ll take too long. Just say studette. That pretty much sums it up.

No attractive girl in a monogamous relationship should ever be forced into masturbation. Her extreme bouts with sexuality should be handled by you, the man, in the most satisfying way possible. As with her bouts of chocolate cravings; don’t let her buy the bar, take her to the candy store and buy it for her. The only difference between chocolate and sex is that instances of hunger are just harder to turn down. All depends which one she’s craving more.

And who is “she,” anyway? She is a studette; a woman desired by all men, also known as an inamorata or “female lover.” She is a sure thing—as sure as sure can be. In fact, you could say that she is beautifully salacious; salacious meaning: characterized by lust or suggestive of or attending to moral looseness.

Provocative? Yes. A studette not only provokes, she excites, stimulates, and is fictitiously interesting; a fantasy dustland fairytale of sorts. A studette is more-than-meets-the-eye. No air-head beauty queen here. She may very well be vulnerable, delicate, unassumingly innocent, sexy and open-minded, but she is also full-minded. At best, a normal woman is either full-of-mind empty-of-bra, or full-of-bra empty-of-mind. A studette is both, living life to the fullest.

She is luscious, having a strong sensual or sexual appeal; seductive, having sensuality and lusciousness of lips and curves. Luscious like an ice cream cone would be if it were as healthy as a salad. It’s all anybody would eat.

A studette is exotic. Intriguing. Beautiful. Gorgeous. She is eye candy, arm candy, and everything else about her is candy except her name.

A studette doesn’t have to be a tall, leggy, model-hot brunette, but it wouldn’t hurt. Everything she does is coincidental, like eye contact and dancing side-by-side with a man. She always seems interested. Always hints at things moving in a promising direction. Always gets what she wants. And, by God, she deserves it.

A studette deserves a lot. Hell, she earns it just by being her. She is kissable; open to affection. Easy to kiss or touch lightly or gently with the lips. Extremely erotic, extremely flirtatious—stimulating sexual desire with a playful behaviour intended to arouse sexual interest. Yeah, that’s her. She’s a studette alright, and ain’t nobody’s stopping her.

But she knows it’s not all about her. A studette is unpretentious and has a fondness for nice men, able to express an openly strong liking or inclination of affection toward a man—a type of respect. All she asks is for one thing: for her smile to be reciprocated.

You’d be stupid not too. She’s a studette, after all.

A studette can go from grooving on the dance floor with her girlfriends to grooving in the bedroom without missing a single beat. But she isn’t the kind of girl you can just lewdly ask for a romp. She is more respectful than that, so no reason to be concerned. If she wants you, she’ll tell you. She’ll whisper in your ear how much she wants you. She’ll tell you how much she wants you inside of her. How good you feel inside of her. How hard you are. How much she wants you to cum. You get the idea. She’s fun, but surely not easy. She isn’t the judge of you, either. Her clitoris is. And there is no on the job button-pushing training with a studette. You either have it or you don’t. She’s making her list, checking it twice, and if you want to be invited back you better have experience because it could be awhile until your next studette. They are few and far, far between.

She is socially improper and indecent—in the best of ways. Bawdy. Racy. Risque. Lewd. Titillating. But you just can’t get enough of her. You’re smitten just by the fact she knows your name and spooned with you last night, replacing the bad memories of high school days with one’s you’ll be reminiscing about with your care home nurse in fifty years.

A studette is every man’s first love. You love her ass. Her tits. You lust after both sets of lips. And her eyes drive you crazy. She’s the one. The only. The studette. Hard bodied, bi-curious; curious for you and for herself. She can always properly express herself with words, always knowing exactly what she wants and how she wants it. And she will always surpass your expectations in every regard—sexually, emotionally, intellectually.

Her presence alone ignites an inner, inescapable anxiety in a man, a predisposed panic attack or panic-like symptoms, similar to agoraphobic fears typically involved with clusters of situations that include being outside that home alone, or being in a crowd or standing in line. All this when you’d rather be watching and talking about the effects of tending to the little pink knob; the sensations, the growing warmth, the wetness, the tingle, the plateau and the climax.

So much for anxiety.

A studette, for example, believes that no genital words are allowed, but words like “moan” and “suck” are okay. This is pure fabrication. She just likes beating around the bush, but would rather have you doing it than her. I always go with the word “stroke.” She can lightly, almost unconsciously, run her hand up and down a champagne flute, stroking it gently, teasing the glass with her fingernails. A studette knows exactly what I’m talking about, and it has nothing to do with bubbly.

And she would always add some erotic undertones to your non-sexual comments, leaving descriptions of inanimate objects for another day. She is a studette, what the hell else were you expecting?