“Can I come over?”

            “Yes, please do.”

            This text exchange between Lo and Robert became a regular thing.  It started off as a once a month request and then it increased to two or three times a month, then once a week, until now it was two to three times a week.  Robert would text.  Lo would shower and get naked.  I would greet him at the door with a formal hello – far less friendly, unfortunately, than we had been prior to his accessing Lo for his personal outlet for relief.  I would show him to the bedroom, and, depending on my mood, close the door behind me once he had entered, or leave it ajar.  I’d sit in the living room and await the sound of his footsteps down the hall, then show him the door before taking my place back beside Lo’s naked and used body.  She’d show me her cream-filled puss or the condom on the nightstand before having me enter her and telling me the brief tale of her encounter.  At first there was some variation to the exchange.  He would do her doggy-style; he would ask to have her ass; he would jack-off over her and cum on her tits or her face.  Even then the meet-ups were fast – no longer than fifteen or twenty minutes tops!  Luckily Lo can almost always cum within seconds, not minutes. 

            But eventually it because routine.  He would get to the house, enter her doggy-style, cum within five or ten minutes, and leave.  Once, after one of these sloppy, speedy summits, Lo asked Robert, “Why don’t you just jack it at home instead of driving all the way here?”

            He seemed perplexed by the question.  As he cleaned himself off, he said, “I do jack it at home.  Always to pictures of you or you and HH.  But I enjoy the anticipation in the car on the way here and the pleasant recollection on the way home.”  That was complimentary enough to Lo to quell her curiosity. 

            Then, one evening when Robert was paying a visit to Lo in the bedroom, I received a text from Lo as I sat in the living room.  It simply read, “Come.”  I’m used to those texts in the morning, but not when she has a gentleman caller between her widely spread legs. 

            I got up and walked to the bedroom.  I found her on her back, Robert on top of her, filling her need for attention.  She looked over at me and said, “Daddio, will you please get me a tall glass of water with ice?  Tonight he’s going at it like never before and I’ve worked up a sweat.”

            I retreated from the bedroom and got the glass of ice water.  I returned, cup in hand, like a waiter or servant and, as Robert continued to bang her, I carefully handed it to her.  She smiled as she drained the glass and handed it back to me.  “Thanks Daddio,” she said as her arms embraced Robert tightly and she began to call out, “Fuck me!  Give it to me.  More.  Fuck me harder!” 

            I left the room.