[Continued from Summertime: Dogs, Wieners, and Buns]

 

“You left her there, like that, on the couch, mounted by her pup?”

“Yes,” said Lo, followed by, “Now have me, Daddy.”

“But wait,” I replied.  She walked away down the hallway to the bedroom.  By the time I got there, she was naked on the bed, lying on her tum, her bare feet dangling in the air above her, her legs spread wide.

“Daddy, come, play with my pussy,” she said.

I pulled off my clothes hastily and got on top of her.  To my surprise, she was engrossed in some photos on her phone.

“What are you looking at?” I inquired as I slowly inserted my cock between her dripping wet pussy lips and slid it in right down to the shaft.

She moaned and said, “Is that your idea of foreplay?  I said play with my pussy, not impale it.”

I pulled out.

“I didn’t say stop,” she grunted.

I slid in again.

“I thought your idea of foreplay,” said I, “was mounting my hard cock as I slept.”

“That’s only one idea.  There are a lot of others.”

“What are you looking at?” I asked again, more demanding now since her hands were deliberately covering the screen of her phone.

“Nothing,” she said.

She was lying.  I knew that.  I thought, “OK, let her have her little secrets.  I’ll find out later.”

“Why did you leave Scarlett?” I asked, trying to pump her for information.

“No talk.  Fuck,” she instructed.

I gave up on my curiosity and simply explored her deepest recesses with my prick rather than with my pointed words.

“My ass!” she said, reaching both hands behind her and grabbing her ass cheeks to spread them and give me a clear target.  “I want you to fuck my ass and then my puss and then my ass again – like a dog whose heat-seeking sensor keeps getting confused.”

It was an odd juxtaposition of simile and metaphor, but I was not going to nitpick at that moment.  It was clear that her experience with Scarlett had left a lasting impression.

I gave her what she had requested, back-then-front and back again.  In-out-in-out.  Cunt-rump, cunt-rump, repeat.  She was gushing.

The entire time she was looking down at her screen.

“Now,” she commanded, “ram it home up my ass.  NOW!”

No time to think.  Deep spelunking down her dark cavern.

“FUUUUUUCK!” was the response.  This was the key to unlock the water works as her pussy gushed forth all at once in a deluge resembling the explosion of a water balloon.

Everything was drenched – me, the bed, her legs.

She finally rolled over on her back and, her breasts heaving with her deep breaths, she managed to smile a grin of relief and whisper between inhaling, “Thank you, Daddy.”

I crawled up next to her and, after she regained her equilibrium, she squirmed on the soaking wet bed and took my cock in her mouth.  I was still hard.  I had not cum.  The pressure of performing outweighed the pleasure of putting it in her ass.

She began to lick and to insert my cock deep to the back of her throat as the fingers of her right hand tickled and cupped my testicles.

I took advantage of her preoccupation with insuring that I gain as much pleasure as she to grab her phone and discover what had her so enchanted while I fucked her.

The photos surprised me.  She had found a cache of Irena Ionesco’s photographs of her daughter Eva.  Apparently, the mother-daughter dynamic had appealed to her prurient imagination.

I wasn’t ready for my exquisite torture to be over just yet.

Reaching down and grabbing Lo’s thick mane – a move she usually loves because I’m usually holding her on my cock in the position that affords the most pleasure to me – I gently pulled her off of the bone she was so eager to fondle with her face.

“Lo, come here,” I whispered.

She looked up at me, disappointed.  She is not satisfied until and unless her fornication friend is satisfied.

“Is everything ok?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.  “I just want to talk with you.  I want to hear your story.”

“I told you already.”

“No, I want to know more.”

She slid up from my crotch to lie on the pillow facing me as I was lying on my pillow.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Why did you leave Scarlett?”

“She was completely incapacitated.  Reilly had mounted her and was riding her good.  He had already cum – into the pillow – and he was going to take a while.”

“So?  She could have licked your pussy while the dog had his way with her from behind.  You could have been next in line, if Reilly was riled up enough.  You’ve been aching for that again.  Anything could have happened.”

“Is that what you want?  Did I let you down, Daddy?”

“It’s not about me,” I said, a bit sorry that she was taking my comments that way.  “I’m just surprised.  You clearly like this woman.  You’re attracted to her.  And – to have a four-legged friend trained in the art of pleasing its mistress. . .”

I didn’t have to continue because we both knew what sorts of erotic fantasies she dreams up while masturbating; dreams and fantasies of past experiences reconfigured into imaginings of future fun.

“You don’t understand, Daddy.  She looked so, well, the only word I can think of is incapacitated.  She was impaled on his prick and he was like the puppet master, pulling her strings with it.  She seemed so, so. . .” Lo struggled to find the right word, “pathetic.”

“Pathetic?”
“Yes.  I mean, there she was, Collin’s right-hand woman, as she called herself.  Older, sophisticated, sexy, all put-together, and that British accent!  You have no idea what that does to me!  She looks down at me with that haughty, superior look.”

“I’m sure that’s just in your mind,” I said, doubtful that Scarlett, whom I had yet to meet, was looking down at Lo.  Looking at her as a piece of meat to be devoured, maybe, but not looking down at her.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter,” said Lo, “that’s how I felt around her.  But when she was being fucked by her furry friend, when she was desperate to have me, when she was completely and utterly debased and degraded like that on the couch, her big breasts hanging down, rocking forward-and-back under the thin, transparent fabric of her blouse, and she was unable to do a thing about it – that’s when I knew I had to go.”

“But why?”

“Because it gave me the upper hand for once.  If I had stayed and let her lap up my labia, let Reilly ram his red rocket down my ravenous vagina like he was doing to her, and be made his bitch as completely and helplessly as she was, well then, I’d have even less self-respect next time I see her than I did the first time.”

“But you wanted her?”

“When she was washing my legs in the bathtub,” she said, her eyes glazed over as the scene played out before her mind’s eye, “and she hopped in, completely clothed, and got between my legs to wash my inner thighs, I was nearly certain she was going to ask me to piss all over her – her beautiful hair, her beautiful face, her red red lips, on her flimsy, sexy blouse and tits.”

“You really think she was going to ask that or. . .”
“Maybe I was hoping she’d ask for that.”

“Because, again, you’d have the upper hand.  You’d be demeaning her, humiliating her by pissing on her.”

“Yeah, probably.  What could be more humiliating?”

“You like it,” I reminded her, though she needed no reminding, I’m sure.

“Yeah, because I’m a masochist.”

“Well, maybe she is too.”

“No doubt,” she said, “but, if she goes about all haughty and holier than thou professionally – like she’s the sadist, at least towards me – then I’m not about to let her soon forget who is in charge in the bedroom.”

“A little sadistic streak in you too, then.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess you have met your match.”

“Daddy,” she said, “you’re my match.”

“You’re too young to remember, but a standard matchbox would come with twenty or fifty matches.”

“That’s a lot of fire.”

“Looks like she lit a flame between your legs.”

“Fuck me again, Daddy.  Like a doggy.  In my ass,” she said.  “And give me my phone back, you sneak!”