Taking Rana Out
When Mark originally enrolled at the University of Nebraska, he wanted to be an architect, but had not decided on which aspect of the field he wanted to major in. That of course, was one reason he chose Nebraska, for it offered several diverse fields including urban design, historic preservation, building sciences, or acoustic design.
Now Mark had almost completed the first portion, the Bachelor of Science in design, a para-professional degree and a necessary component of the professional program which culminates with the Master of Architecture degree being the first professional degree fully accredited by the National Architectural Accreditation Board.
His dream of becoming an architect was a demanding one. It required longer periods of study than the majority of other courses, particularly humanities, modern languages or social sciences. It was expensive and challenging. And Mark was constantly reminded that effort wasn't enough to get through it; talent, resilience and skill were also called for.
Simply put, architects design buildings. When a client explains to an architect their desires for a building, they are also describing his or her values and priorities. What separates architecture from most other forms of communication is its sheer size, the longevity of its statement and its mass appeal.
Mark had already discovered that there wasn't enough practice in architectural education; it was mostly theory. He wasn't the first to level this criticism at the school, nor was his university the only one guilty of this omission. There is a lot of theory to learn, and you needed to learn to approach the varied and complex design challenges in the right way. There was plenty of studio time and of course, lecture after lecture, and project work to carry out at home.
What nagged at Mark was the fact that they kept telling him that even when he did qualify; it would take several years for him to be trusted to work on his own. And so when he discovered it was possible to enter a competition allowing college students to submit projects that use a thoroughly integrated approach to architecture, natural systems, and technology to provide architectural solutions that protect and enhance the environment. The competition would be recognizing the work of ten exceptional studio projects that integrate strategies for enhancing a complex in the city of Monroe, Louisiana.
Mark jumped at it. He already had a firm grasp of the essentials involved: and his technical drawings were constantly praised and he had the engineering know-how to support his designs. He would be required to work under the direction of a faculty sponsor. Professor Horowitz might be that person.
He made a call and got an appointment with the Professor for later that afternoon. Mark realized the Professor would encourage him to enter the competition as a team member, but that would entail finding several other interested students on campus, and he didn't know of any that fit his needs. He would enter the individual category. It was what he really wanted after all, earning recognition of his skills and imagination in the architectural field.
Professor Horowitz greeted him warmly, saying, "You know, Mark someday you'll be a fine, possibly renowned architect. But you've still got the masters ahead of you. Your strength in 'crits' (designed to teach students how to put forward an argument and then support it.) will undoubtedly be of help, but do you think you possess the intense psychological training so highly valued and which holds the most value in an architectural project?"
"I'm not sure, that's why I've come to you, Sir."
Professor Horowitz smiled and said, "I must admit I've never been asked this of a student before. I like your chutzpah, as we Jewish Professors like to say. You realize they will be asking you to explain the thought process behind your design and it will be put under the closest scrutiny by the committee members as well as the staff here at the University. Even practicing architects find this type competition nerve-wracking and intimidating, but overall, I'd say that it won't hurt you, um, other than your pride should you be ostracized for presenting an inferior product.
On the plus side it should help you become well-practiced at presenting your pitch, improvising to meet unique challenges, and arguing your case with reason; all highly valuable, a combination that is often lacking in business today. And that's if you don't win; should you actually win, or even place, you will have taken a giant step forward in the field.
"But you mustn't let the competition pull your normal class work down."
Mark spent the next three weeks totally engrossed in his vision of how the center-piece for the complex should look, and how it might best be constructed. He hardly slept, and of course he all but ignored Rana until he finished his design and with Professor Horowitz's approval, sent it off to the competition committee.
It so happened that the following day Mark received a check from his father that was totally unexpected. It seemed that his Uncle Fred had won the lottery back in New Hampshire, and as he had no other relatives than his brother, Mark's father, he'd sent him $25,000 of which Mark's father decided to put $10,000 towards his college tuition.
The check Mark received was only for $200, but was 'for him to have a good time with.'
And so, when Rana came to his apartment after her last class, he embraced her, and following a long, languid series of kisses, told her they were going out to the best place in town to eat that night.
"We are?" Rana gushed excitedly. "That's wonderful!"
"Yeah, but um, where would that be? I haven't really eaten out since coming to Lincoln," Mark said with a smile.
"Oh, well Mark, that is easy to answer for there is only the one, and it is a Mediterranean style restaurant called Sultan's Kite."
"Only one--and it's Mediterranean?"
"Yes, it is owned by a relative of my cousin Armin. He is ..."
"Never mind, I'm taking you there and I'm paying. We'll do our best to avoid your cousin or there will be all sorts of gossip directed back to your family."
"Yes, Mark you are quite right. I do not wish my family to know that I am openly consorting with an infidel." Then laughing giddily, she hugged him tightly until he started tickling her around the ribcage; that made her shriek with laughter. He carried her to his bed and laid her down then began tugging her jeans off, and then her top. Mark couldn't contain himself and began manhandling her breasts through her bra.
"Do you love me?" Rana asked, not caring what his response was, but only wanting to hear his hoarse voice uttering something into her ear.
"Yeah, I do and I wanna fuck you silly. I want to cum in every one of your holes. Everyone--do you understand?"
"Yes—yes—yes!" she answered, already dripping profusely from her cunt.
They kissed a long time without either of their tongues touching. When his finally flicked between her slightly parted teeth and touched her tongue, he heard Rana begin whimpering. And then their tongues got physically involved and she responded excitedly when he pushed his long tongue into her mouth as far as it would go.
Her body began to vibrate and she brought her left hand back under his armpit and up around his back and shoulder and somehow managed to entwine her fingers in his hair at the back of his head. Then, as they swapped saliva, Rana slanted her ass in order to feel the full brunt of his hardon. Mark unfastened her bra, freed her breasts and feasted on them until sated in that regard; then he got to his feet and began undressing.
Rana's pupils' dilated as she focused on his boner, and it took a strong measure of self control to keep her hands from doing any more than lightly stroking him.
"I love your pintle, Mark. I love it in my mouth and in my pussy ..."
"You love my what?" he said, puzzled by her use of a strange word.
"Pintle, lover, its Farsi for penis."
"Ah, so I learn a new word. How is it spelled?"
"Just like it sounds p-i-n-t-l-e," Rana said slowly. She was sitting on her heels and looking downward as if afraid to meet his eyes.
"Want me to use our toy now?" Mark inquired softly.
"If you wish, Mark."
"Oh, you'd prefer I use my pintle?"
"You may use whatever you want. You will bring me the greatest pleasure whatever you decide to use."
Mark had come a long way in the brief time since their first coitus together. In Rana's mind, he could do no wrong. "Then use your mouth for my ... pintle, Rana my love."
She brought her arms above her head and submissively steepled her fingers together. Had there been an onlooker they would have assumed the couple had done this before, and they had.
"Suck me, Rana," he whispered and she quickly took the crown of his penis between her lips and licked then sucked on it and the corona just below the crown. She did not attempt to envelop any more of him, content with bringing him intense pleasure from that action alone.
"That's good, Rana ... that's soooo good," he whispered. Rana moaned around his cockhead at the praise and purposely widened her eyes, blinked several times as she looked up at him as she continued her almost soundless sucking.
Rana took her time, using soft, gentle motions as she sucked on him. She wanted to look at his cock, but held her eyes on his, letting him see her face as she began to stroke him; fellate him. As she watched his excitement grow, she quickened her pace by gripping the base of his shaft with one hand then sliding it up its length while the other hand grabbed him and repeated the motion. Rana never let the head of his penis leave her mouth.
He began to moan from her actions and her hands moved faster, while squeezing him harder. Her hair had fallen across her face, but she continued looking up at him, expressionless.
Cover me with your life giving seed, she thought to herself. Bathe your little whore with your cum.
As if he'd heard her thoughts, Mark came for her, moaning loudly, as she carefully pulled him from between her lips and aimed his penis at her face.
Suddenly a series of white streamers of sticky hot cum jetted through the short space between cock and face, landing on the side of her nose, and her lips and chin. Rana didn't flinch or move, welcoming the cascade of jizm raining down upon her.
And when he stopped ejaculating, she recommenced squeezing his shaft again, drawing out the last remnants of sperm from his pintle and licking them away with the tip of her tongue.
She remained on her knees, looking up at him, letting him see his seed dripping down her face and chin, with some gobs already hanging off, ready to fall to her heaving breasts below.
Mark remained hard in her hot hands, and she refused to release him. He looked at her for a long moment, memorizing her face as it was at that moment then moved into action, lifting her slight frame into the air. He held her there, with her face now above his, looking down at him with its dripping pools of cum. He could see in her face that she understood what he was about to do and her eyes signaled she welcomed it.
"No," he said, "you do it."
