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“What’s there to eat in the fridge?” I call to her through the bathroom door.  I had just gotten home from work and I was famished. 

“Nothing,” she calls back as I hear the squeak of her opening the valves to take a shower.

“Nothing?!  I saw a cucumber in the bottom right drawer.”

“Oh, that’s not for eatin’,” she says.  “Come to think of it, will you bring it to me darling?”

Good grief.  I get the green gourd from the fridge for her and a cold beer for me.  I pass her the vegetable when she extends her hand through the narrow opening of the door. 

“Can’t I see you?” I ask.

“No.”

“You do know that I’ve seen you naked before?  Most of the internet has seen you naked before.  Probably most of our neighbors have seen you naked before.”

“I have my shower cap on.”

“Oh, well then.” 

The door shuts.  I sit down to read and sip my beer and await her exit from the bathroom.  And wait.  And wait.  After her repeated cries to God and profanities that I imagine were directed at her pleasure-bearing plant, I hear the waterspout squeak off. 

Finally she emerges. 

I whistle at her.  “You look half as good in your clothes as you do out of them.”

“That’s insulting!”

“Would you prefer the opposite: You look twice as good in your clothes as you do out of them?”

“How about you just say I look fabulous.”

“You look fabulous, darling.  And delicious.  I had no dinner.  Can I please eat you from bottom to top?”

“Oh, Daddy, I have to catch my breath,” she says, lying naked on the bed next to me.

“You do that and I’ll caress your snatch with my tongue.”

She puts her laptop over her shaved triangle and opens it up. 

“Darling,” I ask, “what are you doing now?”

“Just checking some email and sprucing up some social media accounts.”

Dejected, I get up off the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“I’m not going anywhere.  I’m taking off my work clothes and. . .”

“Getting naked?” she asks, licking her lips.

“If that would please you.”

“Will you lie next to me?”

“As you wish,” I say, somewhat sarcastically. 

I sit next to her, reading my book as she scrolls through pages with her right hand.  Her left hand is resting on my cock.  It grows in her palm.  I put down my book and turn on my side, rhythmically fucking her fist.  Unconsciously, she allows it, but doesn’t enthusiastically respond to it.  She’s engrossed in whatever it is she’s reading. 

After a couple of moments, I look at what is on her screen.  It’s a page of nearly naked women.

“What is that?” I ask. 

“You’ve never seen a woman before?”

“Not until I laid eyes on you, darling.”

“Funny.”

“What is that page?” I ask with more specificity. 

“Oh,” she says, “I created a Pinterest page.”

“I can’t help but notice, I’m nowhere on it.”

“Do you like it?”

“The pics of you, yes.”

Just as I was enjoying seeing her in the naked flesh next to me, and also her pixilated portrait resting just above her pink vulva on her laptop computer, she scrolls away from the page.  And, to make matters worse, she removes her hand from my hard rod.

            “Now what are you doing?” I ask.

            “It’s well known that lists create web traffic and a fan asked me to list six facts about my body.”

            “Clickbait,” I respond.

            “You can call it that,” she says, but I think I’m the real bait.  Clitbait, you might say.”  She strokes her bean under the computer as she says it. 

            She returns her hand to the keyboard and writes:

Six Facts About My Body:

1. It is an instrument of pleasure.
2. It is a canvass for cum.
3. It inspires creativity.
4. It drives people crazy.
5. It drives me crazy.
6. I love it.

“Not bad,” I say. 

She ignores my compliment because now she is engaged in answering emails. 

One guy asks, “Who are you?”

“Cum and find out,” writes Lo, followed by, “Wait, reverse that.”

Another guy sends a dick pic.  Lola tells him that if he is going to do that, he has to send one with her photo in the frame.  He replies, “I don’t usually send dick pics.” 

            “I bet you say that to all the sluts,” she replies snidely.   

            I can see that she is getting excited.  Her right hand moves to her chest and she pulls at her nipples, making them erect. 

            “Looks like you’re ready to give some pointers,” I say.

            Another fan read the story, “Divine Destinies,” about Lo’s immaculately pure pink posterior flower.  He wrote to Lo requesting some steamy chat, adding that, “I love to talk about dirty things.”

            Lo, taking offense at this, replies, “Are you suggesting that the pinnacle of my success is ‘dirty’?”

            “Lo,” I say, “turn over and I’ll take a pic of my tongue deeply penetrating your perineum and we’ll show him how you’re more beautiful than Charlene and Mr. Clean.”

            She chuckles and asks, “How the hell do you know that song?”

            “My brain isn’t as old as my body.”

            “If by that mean you mean that you’re immature, then you’re right.”

            “Roll over.”

She closes her laptop and I think I’m in luck, but then she takes out her phone.  She does turn onto her tum and begins going through photos from fans.  “I just need a little something to wet my whistle, if you know what I mean,” she says, as she puts her right hand down between her pussy lips and strokes, then, using that natural lubricant, moves to her porn star. 

She passes me the phone and says, “Look what I found in my in-box!”

I, looking at both her boxes intently at that moment, take the phone from her. 

“Read it aloud,” she says, “I’m all ears. . . and vagina.”

I see a long email from a fan, a woman named “Jen X.”  It reads:

Lola,

You are a much curvier, sexier, more luscious version of Audrey Hepburn. Think about it, HH is Gregory Peck. And you, my dear friend Lo, you are a Princess.

You’re so innocent. He’s older than you. He’s a writer, a professor, a man of mind, body, soul and spirit. He’s brilliant. You are his muse. He is obsessed in the best possible way by you. You dominate his thoughts, his feelings, his emotions. You go further than he could possibly believe now…you’re so deep in his consciousness; as deep as his dick passionately penetrating the walls of your strong, shaking, quivering pussy.

Because of the way HH writes about you and your magnificent personality, I want you! I have a deep desire to have you pop my girl-on-girl cherry. However, HH has got to be there and ease us through it. I want him to watch us, jerk off, and then we both share his cum.

He just channels your soul’s sexiness, your perfect pair of tits, your sweet soft strong flexible box, and your behind. Your behind forces him to forget anything that isn’t about you. He loves not just looking at you, he loves to take you with his eyes. In his mind he is cumming into every atom of your being.

HH is a Voyeur. He’s a genius. And I have a crush on HH because I’m perfectly straight, yet I adore you Lo, I truly do, because you are one of the funniest, most caring, sexiest women in the world. I feel your sexiness and your body through HH and I want both of you!

I have never had a FFM. I’ve had two MMF trysts in real life, but the guys freaked out about touching each other. I’m not saying a need a bi male partner. I would love that, however, the way you yank me into your stories…WOW! I want to co-write a hot story of Lola introducing me to you. I believe this should be a gift from us to you.

Lola’s the hottest thing since fire! – classy, highbrow, but with a twisted, kinky, warped sense of humor. Imagine the Magical Kink Fest Lola and I could create for you.

HH, I need you to pitch your fantasy for this erotic project I’m co-creating with your sweet innocent lollipop licking Lola.

Let me know if you want my company in your bedroom or dungeon.

Kisses babes,

Jen X

As I read the lusty letter, Lo is having finger fun time between her legs and her feet are working in tandem to stroke my cock.  The words are so poetic and prurient that I very nearly cum.  Lo can feel it and she turns and says, over her shoulder, “I just got out of the shower.  I didn’t wash my hair and I don’t intend to today.  If you cum, don’t cum in my hair.”

            “Do you think Audrey Hepburn ever said that to Gregory Peck?”

            “Look, I aim to please, so please be sure to aim.”

            Just as she says it, I take aim and hit my mark, right between her shoulder blades. 

            After I recoup, I get up and go to the bathroom to clean myself off.  There, on the sink, is her giant cucumber.  “Do you think this is still ok to eat?” I call to Lo.

            “What, your cock?”

            “Well that too, but I was referring to your veggie vagina filler.”

            “Oh, I’m not done with it yet.  Toss it here.”

            I do so and I also return to the bedroom to get dressed.

            “Where do you think you’re going?” she asks as she stuffs herself full of the jolly green giant. 

            “To the store to get something for dinner.  Do you want anything?”

            “How about an eggplant.  This is not nearly enough to feed me.”