“Was I bad, Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Am
I a slut?”
“Yes.”
“Then fuck me like one.”
Earlier that day, dear reader, we had gone to the beach with our friends Stephanie and Mark. They’re a married couple in their 30’s, they have a couple of young kids, suburban house, everything – a quaint picture of domestic bliss. Then you throw Lo into the mix and, well, you’ll see what unfolds (or unzips).
Stephanie is a work acquaintance of mine who has her office down the hall. Every so often she texts me little notes like, “Lunch today?” followed by a winkface, a smileyface, or some other emoticon that drives Lo crazy! Lo is convinced she has the hots for me. But it’s hard to stay seated atop her high horse when she is just as often on her knees in front of a different man. As you shall soon discover, Lo was in for a dénouement all her own. Lo, it so turns out, has more than your casual fondness for Mark. In fact, she has made it no secret how she feels about him.
The first time we had dinner with them, when Lo first met Mark, Lo rushed us home and threw me into the bed, jumping on top of me, humping me and, looking down at me from where she lifted and descended at a rising trot’s pace, she asked, “Do you think he wants me?”
“Mark?”
“Yes, Mark,” she said, panting.
She didn’t even let me answer before she finished. Apparently just the mention of his name was enough to get her heart palpitating.
She fell down next to me and, caressing her soft lower lips, she said, “He’s hard-up.”
“How do you know?”
“Did you forget that Stephanie and I had lunch together a few weeks ago?”
“And she told you that?”
“I have my ways of getting information. I know that they have sex once every six months, if that. And it’s not for his lack of wanting.”
“Do you think he wants you?”
“Fuck me and I’ll tell you.”
She spread her legs and I slid in.
“He’s so tall,” she began, “and sitting next to him I could tell that he was looking down my blouse at my tits all night.”
“I did notice that.”
“And his long legs touched mine under the table.”
“Did they?”
“And his cock!” She was cumming again. “His cock is huge. I could see it bulging right through is pants. Oh, it’s such a waste for her not to be on that every night!!!” She came hard this time.
That dinner date was a few months ago.
Now, we were at the beach and I could tell that Lo was all riled up to see Mark in just his swimming trunks. Knowing where Lo’s attention would fall, I gazed at his crotch and had to admit to myself, she was right – there was no disguising the size of that thing. It was truly amazing that the tip didn’t peek out the bottom of those loose-fitting shorts.
As soon as we staked out a spot for us to set up our chairs and blankets on the white sand, Lo removed her sheer blouse, revealing her tiny bikini top and lovely tum. She had the confident air of a woman in her twenties, showing off and prancing around her thirty-something competition. And that self-assured swagger sure got Mark’s attention.
Stephanie, who was busy with the two kids, was oblivious to all the sexual tension coursing between Lo and Mark. I watched, contentedly. Lo was soon removing her cutoff jeans-shorts, slipping out of them like a stripper on stage. Her bikini bottom left little to the imagination, but I could see Mark desperately imagining what was left.
When she was down to just her bikini, she got on all fours on the beach blanket in front of Mark, who was sitting in a beach chair. She roved around the blanket like a dog looking for its bone, but Lo was looking for the sunscreen. Or so she said. I think she was just looking for attention. . . and getting it.
“Where did you put it?” she asked me.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“He’s good for nothing, Mark,” she said, jibbing at me. As she was on all fours, her breasts hung down right in front of Mark and then she turned and, searching her bag, her ass was up in the air right in front of him. I’ve seen strippers on stage who were more discrete than that. “Oh, here it is!” she exclaimed as she pulled it out of her bag, looking behind her to see if she was being watched.
She began applying the lotion to her feet, legs, tum, chest, arms, shoulders, neck, face. “I missed a few spots,” she said, passing the lotion to me as we exchanged looks – mine saying, “You’re pushing it.” Hers saying, “I want it pushed.”
I applied some lotion to her back. “Lower,” she said. I applied it to her lower back. “Lower,” she said. I applied it to her ass and she pulled up the bottoms into a thong and said, “Don’t take any chances.”
I applied it to her ass cheeks as I looked at Mark and said, “The princess likes to be pampered.” He laughed, but was clearly thinking about pampering the princess in his own way. I enjoyed it.
A group of four men strolled onto the beach with their cooler, chairs, volleyball, and snacks. They set up camp right next to us, attracted to Lo, no doubt. They were all in their twenties, jacked, and looking to have fun in the sun. Lo’s attention was suddenly split between Mark and the men. It looked like the numbers won out – unless Lo was just toying with Mark now the way she had been toying with me. Once she had the fish hooked, she was content to throw it away and see what other catch she could accomplish with her bait.
The guys, after settling in and cracking open a few brews, set up the volleyball net and began a game. Lo looked on enviously.
“Go play,” I said, giving her permission.
“No, you come too,” she said, ambiguously.
“I don’t want to.”
“Mark, will you play?”
Mark was up for it. The two of them approached the guys and soon it was five guys and Lo bouncing the ball back-and-forth. Lo danced upon the sand, dashing here and there, stretching to spike the ball, bending to pick it up, lunging to serve. She was clearly distracting to her teammates and opponents alike. At some points her bikini bottoms were showing her cute ass and at other points her breasts were on the verge of flying out of their cups.
Stephanie talked with me in between rebuking or cautioning the children. We discussed work and then leisure time. I had recounted some of the things that Lo and I had done over the summer thus far. “Wow!” she said, “You two do so much!”
“Well, if I had my druthers, I’d probably just sit at home and read and write, but Lo is always on the go-go-go.”
“One of the downsides of dating. . .” she searched for the least judgmental words she could find, “someone so young.” No matter how she said it, it dripped with derision.
“She keeps me young,” I said, simply, with a smile on my face as I watched my young nymph flirt with the four guys and Mark.
The sun was beating down and I could see all the players wilting in the noontime heat. They broke up their game and Lo grabbed some cash from her bag and said she was going to get a snow cone.
“You were really playing hard,” I commented.
Out of breath, sweating, she just nodded.
“I mean, hard to get,” I added sardonically.
“Daddio, I don’t play hard to get. I play to get them hard.”
She asked if we wanted something. After putting in my order, I watched as she and two of the young men walked down the path toward the dunes, behind which was the concession stand. Just before they were out of eyeshot, I saw Lo stop and untie the halter-top of her bikini and ask one of the men to fix it for her. He was fixing it from behind while the other guy was in front of her. The guy fumbling with the stings “accidentally” lost his grip of them, letting the top fall. Lo laughed as she pulled it back up. Down it went again as she tried to pass the string to Mr. Butterfingers. They all laughed as Lo covered her breasts with her arm. They retied the knot and walked on. They were away for a long time.
When Lo got back from the concession stand, Lo asked me to go into the ocean with her. “Where’s my snack?” I asked, expecting that she would at least bring it back.
“Whoops!” she said with a smile. “I got a bit. . . distracted. Come with me in the water and I’ll tell you about it,” she said, up to no good. I gave her an angry look, but she’s knows I can’t be cross with her for long.
I followed her to the deep blue sea. The water was warm. We were relatively alone at that part of the beach and I carried Lo in my arms. When we got out to the point where I could still stand, but was lifted as the waves crested, Lo kissed me passionately.
“Wow!” I said, surprised.
“Feel me, Daddio,” she said, moving my hand between her legs. “Am I wet?”
“Lo. We’re swimming. In the ocean.”
She smiled. “Oh, trust me, I’m wet.”
“What were you up to?”
“Nothing.”
She kissed me again.
“Lo, I know you were up to something. I saw your little ploy to flash them your tits.”
“You
saw that, Daddio?”
“Yes.”
“What else did you see?”
“That’s it. You disappeared behind the dunes. You were away for a long time, while I patiently waited for my snack. No snack came back.”
“Oh, you’ll get your snack,” she said. “Your snack will be coming soon.”
She kissed me again. It was like she was drunk on sunshine, shore, and attention.
“Finger me, Daddio.”
I put my index finger into her slippery hole underwater, beneath her bikini bottoms.
“Oh, yeah,” she moaned. “Hurry up. I have to cum.”
“What were you up to?”
“Let’s just say that the snow cone was dessert.”
“What did you do?”
“Both of them, with my mouth. Are you mad?”
“Oh, that’s why you were so salty. I thought it was just the sea water.”
She moaned. Beneath the rolling waves I felt her pussy clench on my finger. She came.
“Do you think Mark knows?” she asked when her momentary ecstasy was at an end.
“Why would he know?”
“You think he thinks I’m a slut?”
“He has no reason not to.”
“Good.”
“Why do you tease these poor married men?”
“I just like being an inspiration to people.”
“You’re so altruistic.”
“I think so. I really hope that they’ll go home tonight and fuck like banshees.”
“But you know that she isn’t up for it.”
“Well, then I hope they’ll go home and after she falls asleep, he’ll make himself cum five times next to her in the bed to the thought of me today at the beach.”
“And you’re going to cum to that thought at least five times in the shower tonight, won’t you?”
“If not before.”
Her orgasm achieved, we swam back to shore. She adjusted her bottoms as we emerged from the water. We walked up to our beach blanket and chairs and as we approached I could see the guys next to us speaking in hushed tones and looking at Lo. I could see them making eye contact with her and her smiling back at them. The two who lucked out were gloating to their two hard-up companions. I wondered if Mark and Stephanie could hear them.
When we got up to the group, one of the guys asked Lo if she’d like to play some more volleyball now that she cooled off. “The game was tied up. You’re not going to leave it that way, are you?” he asked.
“What’s wrong with being tied up?” asked Lo suggestively.
“I’m game,” said Mark.
“OK,” said Lo, “Let’s play.” She and Mark went over and the six of them volleyed. I saw Lo running and jumping, bending over in a set-stance like Kerri Walsh. At one point, she ran to hit the ball in the far corner of the impromptu court. She missed it. As she fell down and was on all fours, she crawled to the ball and I thought I saw something that I wondered if anyone else saw. I wondered if it was what I thought it was. The sand between her knees was wet. After she tossed the ball to Mark she said, “I have to take a break,” and she came over to me sitting on the towel. Luckily, Stephanie had gone in the water with her kids and was swimming, seeming to ignore the action of the court.
“Lo,” I said, “did you. . .”
“You saw?!” she asked, mortified.
“So you did?”
“Yes. Accidentally. Do you think anyone else saw?”
“Even if they did, your bathing suit is wet from the ocean. They probably just thought. . .”
“But Daddio, I gushed. I’m still gushing,” she said, spreading her legs a bit to show me a burst of clear liquid spraying onto the towel as she accidentally squirted. “This is bad!” she said, adding, “But it feels so good.” A look of relief was on her face after her release.
“Have some water. Stay hydrated and take it easy.”
Lo rolled over on her tum and watched the five guys hitting the ball around.
“Lo,” I said, “If you don’t want to have any more accidental orgasms, then stop looking at the eye-candy.”
“I wish I could,” she said. “Or I wish I could just get good and fucked right now!”
Lo lay in her agony only for a little while before Mark quit the game. The guys had lost interest once Lo bowed out. Mark rejoined us.
Soon thereafter, Stephanie and the kids came back up and all were ready to go home for an early dinner.
We went back to Mark and Stephanie’s place. Stephanie changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt and Mark manned the grill, still in his bathing suit.
Lo was back into her cutoff jeans-shorts and bikini top. No bikini bottoms or panties. She helped Mark with some food prep in the kitchen before we all sat outside to eat.
The kids were getting cranky and soon after dinner we left so they could deal with the inevitable melt-down that we could see coming.
On the ride home Lo said to me, “Did you hear what Stephanie said when Mark commented about the curls of my hair? She said, ‘You don’t even notice I have hair.’ But honestly, she doesn’t do anything to keep herself up and attractive. And she doesn’t even have a sex-drive.”
“Don’t you see the pattern?”
“What pattern?”
“The pattern: Hunter and his wife, Mark and Stephanie, Carl and Hollis – so many of them. These youngish hot guys with very attractive wives and there is just nothing going on.”
“How is it a pattern?”
“I’m old enough to have seen the pattern.”
“What pattern?!” She was getting impatient with my teasing now.
“Lovely, fun, free-spirited woman (or so she appears) locks that shit down, puts a ring on it, gets married, and no sooner than the last piece of wedding cake is put in the freezer, she chops off her loose long locks, gets a little bob-cut, and then it begins.”
“What begins?”
“Well, with different women the timing may vary, but give the domestic bliss a year or so before she pops out one or two screaming poop-makers and then it’s all sweatpants and sweatshirts all the time. A few years of that and then she complains to her husband, ‘You wouldn’t even notice if I died my hair purple! You don’t even see me!’”
“You’re being sexist.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, and I don’t like it.”
When we got home it was chilly out. “I’m going to get into sweatpants and a sweatshirt,” said Lo, “Is that ok with you or won’t you notice me anymore?”
“Lo, with you it’s different.”
“How?”
“Cause I know that you’re always naked under those clothes.”
“Naked and wet.”
“Go take a hot shower, hop on the bed, put your beach bum up in the air and await your punishment for your bad behavior today.”
“Really?!” she said with great anticipation.
“Yes, really.”
“Punishment or reward?”
“In my mind it’s a reward. But I know you prefer to think of it as punishment.”
“I love that you know me so well, Daddy.”
