Category Archives: Quicky
Grist for the Mill
Reply
Tanning while reading Match, Cinder & Spark
Strolling through the park on a bright summer’s afternoon. “What a glorious day,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said lasciviously.
I looked at her eyes and followed her line of sight. She was watching two sunbathers.
“Lo, what are you thinking about?”
“Nothing, Daddy, I just can’t wait to get home and bang you,” she said while biting her lower lip.
The female sunbather turned over, revealing that she was wearing merely a thong.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, accusatorily.
“Darling, the difference between you and I is that I am an aesthete.”
She rolled her eyes. “This again?”
“And you are a hedonist.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Quite so.”
“What makes me a hedonist for looking at the exact same thing you were looking at?”
“I was looking at the entire composition of the sun, the clouds, the green grass, the spatial relations of the various persons and trees upon the sward, the mathematical ratio of the low lying buildings to the rectangular outline of the park’s boundary. I could go on.”
“I’m sure you could, you pompous ass-thete!”
“While you, my dear,” I continued, ignoring her invective interruption, “were simply thinking about the heat of the sun, the cool of the breeze, the tingling between your legs stimulated by the physical appearance of those two bodies over there, going home, fucking and eating. That’s what makes you a hedonist and me an aesthete.”
“You are unbearable!”
“Why do you take such offense?”
“Because you’re basically saying that I’m a simpleton with animalistic cravings and you are a cerebral demigod!”
“Darling, but don’t you see – that’s why we’re are made for each other. You admire that about me and I admire you for your primal desires. You wish you could be more like me and I wish I could be more like you. That is the law of attraction.”
“Primal desires?!”
“I don’t mean it in a value-laden sense. It’s merely descriptive. As the great philosophers of Utilitarianism – Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill. . .”
“Oh boy, here we go!”
“As the originators of that philosophy of pleasure, Bentham, in contrast to Mill, put no greater weight on the enjoyment derived from eating bonbons than that derived from reading Balzac.”
“If you could shut up for ten minutes, I’d love to eat your sword and fondle your ball sack.”
“Darling, when I said ‘sward’ earlier, it was with an ‘A,’ meaning a green pasture. And the Balzac to which I just now referred was to the French author Honoré de. . .”
“Please, please give it a rest!”
“All I’m saying is that the utils that you get from. . .”
“The what?”
“Utils. The unit of measurement of pleasure in Utilitarianism.”
“Oh, back to that are we?”
“The utils that you get from seeing a curvaceous and scantily clad female are no better or worse than the utils I derive from viewing a Kandinsky painting. I’m much more sympathetic to Bentham’s egalitarian theory than Mill’s hierarchy of pleasures.”
“Really? You? Mr. aristocrat himself?”
“If, by ‘aristocrat,’ you mean that I subscribe to a ranking of merit, then guilty as charged. But one can excel in merit while still deriving pleasure from the simplest of things.”
“You are such an asshole!”
“But if pressed,” I said, again overlooking her impulsive outburst, “I would have to admit that I do not subscribe to Utilitarianism at all.”
“OK, I’ll bite. What do you subscribe to?”
“I think Nietzsche understood that humans are not such simplistic beings as brute beasts, merely out to diminish pain and increase pleasure. Observation of any great artist shows that the highest exemplars of the human race make great sacrifices and endure terrible suffering for the sake of art.”
“Oh, and what sacrifices and sufferings have you had to endure?”
“The subheading of our blog is ‘the trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.’”
“I am the source of your suffering?!”
“The source of my art, and thereby, the source of the suffering that I go through for it.”
“What suffering is that? Having sex with a goddess multiple times a day?”
“No, no, no dear. It’s the, the, um, creative process.”
“What does that mean?”
“Like this conversation, for instance. It’s all just grist for the mill.”
“So, conversing with me is a source of suffering for you?”
“No, no. You take my meaning all wrong.”
“I really don’t see another possible interpretation.”
At this point, we were at our front door. Just as we arrived, a sun-shower began.
“What a weird season,” said Lo. “It’s wet like spring, hot like summer, and beautiful like autumn.”
“You just described yourself: wet, hot, and beautiful.”
Lola Down – Wet, Hot, and Beautiful
“What about smart?”
“Lo, you know how I admire your intelligence.”
“Do I? You just performed an oral dissertation about how I am a hedonist given over to carnal desires.”
“There’s wisdom in that.”
“What does that mean?”
“You are wise beyond words.”
“I know what you’re saying. You wish I’d shut up and you could simply enjoy my beauty without having to listen to me talk. You think you’re so smart.”
“No. I’m just wise beyond your years.”
“I don’t need your stamp of approval. I know I’m smart,” she said with a grin indicating just how content she was with herself.
“Then why do you get so upset when I talk?”
“Because you say the dumbest things.”
I must have looked mortally wounded by her words because she followed that up with, “I mean that with love.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“The dumbest things for someone so intelligent. That’s what I meant.”
Once we were inside, I sat down at my computer to transcribe this little conversation of ours. She was in the bedroom, naked no doubt. She hollered down the hall for me to join her.
“Can’t you see I’m writing? Why do you keep distracting me?” I called back.
“You think that life is just writing and that everything else is a distraction.”
I heard the quiet purr of her Hitachi start up, followed by her moans of pleasure.
When I had completed the reporting of our peripatetic discourse, I sauntered down the hall to check on her, following the sounds of her self-copulatory female vocalizations.
Her right hand held the mechanism between her legs as her left held her phone and scrolled through various images.
Lo’s Little Friend
I turned to leave.
“Hey,” she called to me, “where are you going?”
“It seems that you have matters well in hand,” I said. “You give no indication of needing assistance.”
“For many species, masturbation is the mating call,” she responded.
“Oh, so you want me?”
“If your superior intellect can deign to do me – a mere mortal full of base desires.”
“Like the immaterial Nous infusing the nether pleroma with its animating spirit.”
I had penetrated her as I spoke those words.
“You’re lucky I’m such a sapiosexual, or else I’d take offense at that,” she said, looking up at me. “But the mere fact that you not only know what those terms mean, but can use them when fucking turns me on. And, I might add, your emanation is hardly immaterial.”
Within moments she had reached the apogee of her venereal excitement.
I slowly removed my sword from her scabbard and stood over her recovering body.
“What?” she asked. “You’re not going to cum?”
“That was strictly for your pleasure, my dear,” I said.
“You got nothing from it?” she asked, insulted.
“Your enjoyment gives me satisfaction. Now, back to my writing.”
“Good grief! You’re lucky you have me or you’d have nothing to write about except ideas!”
Cum-Covered
Later that day, a friend sent an email asking, “How are you two?”
Lo responded, “We’re doing fine. HH is writing. I’m masturbating. Once in a while he puts down his pen and picks up his penis and gives it to me. But mostly he gives me his stories to edit.”
I turned to her and said, “You know, my writing makes you immortal.”
“And my body makes you mortal.”
“Are you saying that without your body I’d live forever?”
“No, I’m saying that without my body, you wouldn’t even live once.”
A Tall Drink of Water
“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.
Waiting for a Lyft
“How do I look?” she asked, doing a little twirl on the toes of her shiny black boots.
“Just Peachy,” I said.
“Peachy?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re so old,” she replied. “Do you like the lipstick? Too much?” she asked as she puckered up.
“Depends. What do you plan on doing with it?”
“Hopefully something naughty,” she said as her tongue ran over her pearly whites.
Lo was all decked out for a date she had with a new gentleman caller. About a half hour earlier she had emerged out of her steamy shower, silky smooth down below. She showed me saying, “Hopefully he’ll appreciate this.”
“You are eager for him to get up your skirt,” I said, nonchalantly, though I was upset that she wasn’t offering it to me.
“So eager that I’m not going to wear panties.”
“Why don’t you shave for me? Only when you’re going on dates?”
She walked up to me and made a pouty face, and teased, “Oh, is my ole man jealous?”
“No,” I said, “Not jealous. But I appreciate a slick, wet, whistle just as much as the next guy.”
“I know,” she said condescendingly. “But don’t you like my muff too?”
“Lo, I like all of you in every way,” I said, “But maybe you could just keep the mons pubis polished all the time, especially for when I go down on you.”
“But Daddy, it’s winter. I might catch a chill.”
“Wear a merkin. I hear they’re coming back in style.”
“Funny.”
“I’m serious. I read an article about it. It was all the rage for Fashion Week in New York.”
“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said dismissively.
“You don’t seem to be too worried about catching a chill today,” I observed.
“I plan to have his warm mouth on my va-jay-jay soon enough,” she retorted.
“Are you just trying to tease me?” I asked, adding, “Cause you could have my mouth on it right now.”
She was applying moisturizer to her tits, tum, and mellifluous legs and puss. “Will you get my back?” she asked, applying some lotion to my palm and turning around.
I began to rub it into her shoulders and then down her back. She bent over, exposing her rear. “Get it in good there, cause I want to be silky sweet for him when he has his face where your hands are now.” I was circling my middle finger around her anus and she was moaning.
After a little while of that, she got on the bed, lying on her back, her legs up. I thought for sure this was my invitation. But no! Instead she said, “Don’t forget my toes. Get right in there.”
I applied the lotion to her heel, her arches, her toes and between her toes, one foot at a time. She was almost climaxing from the sensation. I was hard as a rock in my slacks and protruding noticeable. I could see her pussy glistening.
“Do you plan on giving him a foot-job as well?”
“I plan on giving him whatever he wants.”
“Lo, why are you torturing me so much? I’ll just pull out my cock and you can give me a foot-job. Think of it as warm-ups or practice,” I said as I unzipped my pants.
“I’m already hot. I don’t need warm-ups. And are you saying I need practice?”
“Practice makes perfect.”
“I am purrrrrfect,” she said, “or at least so I’m told.”
She got off the bed and began rummaging through her wardrobe.
“Out!” she commanded. “You’ll see when I’m done.”
I left the room and then, a while later, she appeared in the living room asking me how she looked. I was starving for a taste of her. When I said, “Just peachy,” I was thinking about eating her peach, which now was more like a nectarine.
She lifted the hem of her short skirt to show me her bare nectarine. Then she bent over to pick up her purse and pull out her phone.
“Lo, the whole world can see how nicely you prepared yourself when you do that move.”
“That’s what I was going for.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You won’t miss me too much?” she asked.
“Lo, I’m going to tell you the truth. As soon as you shut that door, permission or no permission, I’m going to pull out my Fleshlight and cum so hard into Stoya’s pussy.”
“NO!” she exclaimed. Horror of horrors.
“But, I’m so worked up right now. I can think of nothing else.”
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, “I just ordered my Lyft. It will be here in exactly four minutes. Go get a condom.”
I ran to get a condom from the bedroom and appeared back in the living room, eager to fuck her, but I had another thing coming.
“Put it on,” she said, looking at her phone.
I obeyed.
And then, instead of bending over the couch and letting me enter her, she grabbed my covered cock with her right hand and began jacking it.
“What?” I asked perplexed.
“I’ll jack you off. You have about two minutes,” she said, not even looking at me.
“Why won’t you let me fuck you?”
“Because, I’m pretty as a picture right now. I don’t want to risk messing up my outfit.”
“Really?”
“A minute and a half. Do you want to be hard-up all night?”
“OK, ok,” I said, letting her tug, “but why the condom?”
“No mess,” she said, her hand moving mechanically. “Speaking of pictures. . .” she said as she manipulated her phone with her other hand. She raised up her arm and smiled at the camera as she shot a selfie without me in the frame. No one would even suspect she was giving me a hand-job as she flashed her smile at them. She sent the pic to her date with a message, “Coming.”
She looked again at her ride app and saw the car turn onto our street. She got closer to me and ever-so-gently licked my earlobe with her tongue as she increased her wrist motion. “That’s it Daddio, think about how he is going to lick my clit later. Think about how he’s going to cum all over my puss and make my skirt all dirty with his hot mess. I’m your little trollop, your little. . .”
She stopped mid-sentence. The Lyft was outside our window. I came into the condom. She let go. I grabbed my cock and stroked it as I watched her through the window getting into the car and blowing me an air kiss.
She is truly devilish.
The Many Moods of Monday Morning
Monday morning. 4 am. Lo wakes me up by fucking herself with her glass dildo and Hitachi Magic Wand. “Must you do that now?” I ask, irritated.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to do it if you’d fuck me at night, but you just went to sleep after getting in bed – like sleep is what the bed is made for!”
“Don’t blame your nymphomania on me. You’re like Buzz Lightyear over there, masturbating to infinity and beyond!”
“Yeah, well, from the looks of things, you’re like Woody over there. What’s that popping up under the covers?”
It’s true, I often wake up with a raging hard-on.
“I had crazy sex dreams all night,” she says, more sweetly.
“Really?” I ask from my own dreamlike state. “Tell me about them.”
She tells me about how she dreamed about sex with a guy from work. “I told him I want him to be with me in the biblical sense.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“What’s not?”
“To ‘be’ together in the biblical sense. The saying is, ‘to know one another in the biblical sense.’”
“Well, I want to be together with him – in an existential sense.”
“Why do you think you were dreaming that?”
“Because you were groping me all night.”
“That’s impossible. I slept like I was hit by a bus.”
“Well, groping while sleeping is one of your natural talents.”
“I have many natural and unnatural talents.”
“What are you going to do with that?” she asks, looking down at my rock-hard shaft.
“I’m going to suffer with it. It’s my half-a-cross to bear.”
“Well, don’t get any ideas, I’m getting up,” she says as she pulls out her dildo and rests it on her nightstand.
“So am I,” I say, removing the covers, looking down at my phallus standing at attention.
A good erection is not to be wasted, I suppose, so instead of getting out of bed, she climbs up on my morning wood and eases herself down onto it.
When I don’t meet her descending motion with a thrust upward, she asks, “What’s the matter?”
“You’re using me,” I respond.
“Only for your body.”
“Oh, well, in that case then it’s ok.”
Within seconds she is gushing all over my hips. She climbs off my body and collapses into the bed, eyes closed.
“Are you sleeping?” I ask, incredulously.
“Shhhhh,” is all she manages to respond as she drifts off back to dreamland leaving me hard-up at 4:10 in the a.m.
There’s no going back to sleep for me and I look at her peaceful face.
“Just jack it like any other guy would,” she mutters.
I get out of bed and do what I always do with my sexual energy – channel it into a good story.
A couple of hours later my phone buzzes. “Come,” she texts from the bedroom.
I follow her command.
As I enter the bedroom, I find her naked, legs spread, fingers caressing between her glistening pussy lips. I sit down gingerly beside her. She looks up at me. Her hair is a mess.
“What time did you come to bed?” she asks.
“When?”
“Whenever you came to bed.”
Not knowing if she was speaking about last night or this morning, I reply, “Just now.”
“Did I give you a handjob?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Why?” I ask, curious.
“I had a dream that I did.”
Her left hand is already fondling my hard cock over my pj bottoms.
“Take it out,” she commands.
I take it out for her to hold. “Do you want to make your dream come true?” I ask.
She doesn’t bother to answer. She is already stroking it with her left hand and stroking herself with her right. Her eyes are closed as if continuing her dream. Within mere moments she cums again, and falls back to sleep, leaving me hard-up for a second time.
I hop in the shower and then get dressed for work figuring that it’s just not my morning.
A few minutes after I leave the bedroom to have a cup of coffee, Lola walks into the kitchen. I can tell just by her footfall that she’s upset. Without a “hello” or “good morning,” she launches into a tirade.
“I’m so pissed,” she says.
“Why?”
“I just am. My computer sucks, my schedule sucks, everything just sucks.”
“Do you want to go fuck it out?” I ask, hoping that I might finally release the tension between my legs.
“I thought you’d never ask!”
We return to the bedroom to have sex. I slip out of my pants, but leave on my shirt. I’m still horny from not cumming earlier in the morning and I figure this will be quick and fun. But this time, she isn’t reaching orgasm like she did earlier. She takes out her Hitachi and puts it on her clit and it vibrates between our bodies. After only a few minutes she switches it off and stops her motions. “It’s not working. I think I’m broken.”
“What?”
“I’m not cumming. I think I’m broken.”
“Lo, you had at least two or three orgasms already this morning!”
“Orgasms are like football, it doesn’t matter if you won your last ten games, the only game that matters is this one.”
“You don’t even like football.”
“So? It still holds true.”
“You’re just thinking about all you have to do today.”
“Yeah, but I always cum.”
I get up.
“Where are you going?”
“To make breakfast. Do you want some?’
“No. I’m going to keep trying ʼtil I cum. Everyone has to have goals.”
Two minutes later she’s walking naked into the kitchen.
“That was fast.”
“And how! What’s for breakfast?”
After breakfast I say, “Well, Darlin’, I have to go to work.”
“You’re not wearing any pants!”
“It’s underwear Wednesday.”
“It’s not Wednesday, it’s Monday,” she corrects me.
“I plan my outfits ahead of time.”
“And don’t you mean Wonderwear Wednsday, as in, I wonder where my pants are?”
“Yeah.”
I go to the bedroom and put on my pants. She follows me.
“You can’t go out in those pants!” she gasps.
“I could take them off, but I’d catch a breeze.”
“No no no. I mean, I can see every line and curve of your cock clear as day through those.”
“Well, that never stopped you from wearing your yoga pants in public, now did it?”
“What are you talking about?” she asks defensively.
“As if you were unaware of your camel-toe.”
“Phhh,” she says, dismissively while staring at my crotch. “That thing is huge in there! Sheesh, you’ll scare your secretary.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of, or are you afraid she’ll get the same look in her eye that you have now?”
“Shut up. You cannot go to work like that. It’s bad enough that you have a young female secretary. Now pull it out.”
“But Lo, I have only like three minutes to get going!”
She gets on her knees and unzips my fly, pulling out my cock. But she also continues her rant. “I’m just doing a public service. If you go to work like this, then you’re just contributing to the misogynistic, patriarchal, intersectional systems of oppression.”
“Wow, that’s a mouthful.”
“You’re also a mouthful,” she says as she goes down on me.
“Are you doing a public service or do you wish to service the public?”
She pauses in her fellatio and looks to say, “Please don’t make bad puns while I have your cock in my mouth.”
With merely the gentle touch of her lips on the tip of my cock and the beautiful view of her on her knees, I finally cum. So quick, so unexpected, and so much that it spews all over her face, neck, and tits. She looks up at me and says in astonishment, “That was a hot surprise!”
“Sounds like a special in a restaurant.”
“It’s a plate best served horny.”
“So,” I ask, “what do you want to do with the remaining two and a half minutes I have?”
Suddenly she notices something and looks up at me with a scowl. “You came all over my hair! How did you do that?”
“That’s one of my natural talents.”
“And you came in like five seconds.”
“That’s one of my unnatural talents.”
“Did you like it?” she asks.
“I loved it,” I say, “but I’m so sleepy now.”
“Yeah, because you were groping me all night.”
“Impossible! I slept like a rock.”
“You said you slept like you were hit by a bus.”
“Like a rock that was hit by a bus.”
“Where are you going all dressed up?” she asks after I zip up.
“I have a date.”
“With whom?”
“With destiny.”
“Who is she, I’ll tear her apart!”
“She’s a fickle woman who always gets her way.”
A few moments later, Lola appears in the living room, miraculously all dressed and ready to go to work. She’s wearing a pearl necklace.
“That’s pretty I say.”
“This?” she asks, holding the necklace. “It’s my second pearl necklace of the day!”
“Very funny,” I say.
She leans in to kiss me goodbye before we both leave. “You’ll be home at 11:00 to fuck?” I ask.
“Yeah. Will you be here?”
“Let me check my schedule to see if you can fit me in,” I reply.
“Darling, I could fit way more than you in.”
“Then I’ll bring a few friends.”
“Just be here at eleven. I’ll supply the extras.”
[Art by JoKoss)
Sexy Shorts: Like Clockwork
It’s getting late and I wonder why Lola’s still asleep. I walk into the bedroom and find her naked, her fingers between her legs, watching a video on her phone. She doesn’t stop, as she usually does when I interrupt her solo-time, so I sit in the chair and watch her. She looks up from the bed and says, “Do you mind?”
“What?”
“I’m not masturbating to put on a show for you. I’m masturbating because I have to cum before I go to work and I have to be at work in fifteen minutes. I trying to get this done here.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you.”
“You are stopping me. I just want to fuck myself and finish.”
“Go right ahead.”
“Grrrrr,” she grumbles, dropping the phone, pulling out her dildo and stuffing it in her wet crotch with both hands. In-and-out, in-and-out she furiously pounds herself until, thirty or forty seconds later, she slides the twelve-incher out of her and ejaculates a spray of cum all over the bed.
As she catches her breath, I say, “Feeling better?”
“Yes. No thanks to you.”
“It was a win-win. You came, I got to see you cum.”
“I would have cum faster if you hadn’t interrupted me.”
“I’m sorry, I was just checking on you because I didn’t want you to oversleep.”
“Well, I’m up.”
“And now, so am I.”
Sea of Porn
Sea of Porn
It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s February and we’re on vacation – an escape from the winter wonderland of our northern home. Lying out by the pool, I admire the scenery, much to Lo’s consternation.
There’s a DJ who’s also doubling as the MC for the spring-break crowd. He has the limbo bar set up and is spinning “Limbo Rock” as the scantily-clad bikini babes and the sculpted bros do their annual mating dance under it.
Every limbo boy and girl
All around the limbo world
Gonna do the limbo rock
All around the limbo clock
“Enjoying the Bimbo Rock?” Lo asks me, her voice dripping with derision. She glances at me as she asks, but I see her taking in the eye-candy as well.
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
All around the limbo clock
Hey, let’s do the limbo rock
Limbo lower now
Limbo lower now
How low can you go?
“They’re playing your song,” I say to her. “They’re calling your name, ‘Hey Lo – how low can you go?”
First you spread your limbo feet
Then you move to limbo beat
Limbo ankolimboneee
Bend back like a limbo tree
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
“I’ll tell you what,” she says to me, looking over the rim of her dark sunglasses, “I’ll spread my limbo legs and you give me your limbo stick, and I’ll show you just how low Lo can go.” As she says it, she spreads her legs wide on the reclining chair.
“That’s sounds great,” I reply, “but first, let’s just see who wins, ok?”
“Grrrrrrr,” she says in frustration at my intentional taunt. “Get me a beer, Daddio,” she commands.
“Sure, do you want it in a glass?”
“Yes, please. But pour it right! I don’t want any head.” She paused. “I’ll be giving head later. . . in bed. That’s the only head I want.”
“I can’t wait,” I reply.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she barbs back, “I’ve got my eye on a few likely candidates.”
Later, up in the hotel room, she asks me, “Did you have fun at the pool, dear?”
“Yes – I particularly enjoyed making you jealous.”
“Well, you do a good job of it.”
“It’s not hard at all.”
“It looked pretty hard to me.”
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say.
“Fine,” she says, turning up her nose at me since she apparently took my choice of shower as a snub of her. But there she’s wrong. I just like to be clean and fresh for her.
“You know Lo,” I say before going into the bathroom, “I only have eyes for you.”
Lo ignores this and simply looks at her phone. “Oh, look at that,” she says to me, “A friend of mine just posted that he thinks that his girlfriend looks like Beyoncé.”
“So what? He’s in love?”
“Aren’t you in love? You say I remind you of Lucille Ball!”
“Don’t forget Bugs Bunny!”
“Bugs Bunny?! Really?! Why not at least Jessica Rabbit?”
“You talk like Jessica Rabbit, but you act like Bugs Bunny.”
“Great. That’s love.”
I hop in the shower. When I come out, I find Lo on the bed, naked, her legs spread, one hand holding her phone and one stroking her puss.
“Tell me what you want,” she says to me without even looking at me.
“No, you tell me what you want,” I respond.
This is a familiar game of ours, especially when she’s both mad at me and horny.
“Do you want me?” she asks, seductively.
“Do you want me?” I echo.
“Say it,” she demands.
“No, you,” I say, not willing to give in first.
“Tell me what you want,” she pleads, still stroking herself and pulling at her pussy lips.
“Not till you do first,” I protest.
“I want you to tell me you want me,” she says.
“There you go! You said it!” I declare, victorious.
“Said what?”
“You said, ‘I want you.’”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“You know, Lo, I love you too much.”
“Why do you say you love me too much?”
“Because I let you off too easily and you get off too easily,” I say as I slowly slide inside her. She’s dripping wet and very loose. She moans as I slip in. Her phone is still in her left hand and she looks at it as I hold her naked body tightly. Her right hand is still over her clit and she rubs it as I thrust.
“Stay deep. Just stay deep,” she orders.
I obey. Her hips slightly gyrate up and down as her fingers quickly pulse on her clit. She cums within seconds. Her thighs clench so tightly she squeezes me out unintentionally.
“Sorry,” she manages to whisper as she climaxes.
“You just used me to get off.” I protest. “You just masturbated with me inside you. I was completely incidental to your orgasm.”
“No, Daddio, you were instrumental to it. Now flip me over and do me from behind.”
I obey. Her phone is still in her hand in front of her now so that I can see what she’s looking at. It’s a lesbian Tumblr page.
“Do you like them?” she asks me about the women I see on her phone over her shoulder.
“It’s like a sea of porn,” I say.
She immediately shuts off her phone. “Not for you!” she says.
“Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink,” I say.
“You can have your fill of this all you want. It’s plenty wet,” she says as her free hand now slaps her ass and then fingers her puss from behind. Her other hand is still busy between her legs from the front.
Without warning, I cum and cum a lot, deep inside her. Her pussy clenches on me, hungrily. But when I’m done, she flips over and complains, “You didn’t wait for me!”
“What?” I ask, perplexed.
“Ladies first,” she reminds me.
“You did cum first.”
“Ladies first and second!”
I go to the bathroom to clean up. When I return, I find Lo looking at the porn on her phone again, jilling to it. I begin to object to this, but she holds up a finger to indicate that I should wait till she finishes. I am polite and wait. She looks up at me with a smile. “Cum often, cum a lot.”
“The Lola Down motto.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” she says.
“I thought the saying was ‘Cum early, cum often.’”
“That too. As well as, ‘Cum one, cum all.’”
“I thought that was the motto of all your blog fans.”
“That’s not their motto, that’s their modus operandi. I cum and then they all cum.”
“You know, Lo, sometimes our relationship really surprises me.”
“How’s that, Daddio?”
“Sometimes I feel like you’re the guy and I’m the gal.”
“Sounds like fun. Tell me more.”
“I mean, you get off on those prurient pics, but I. . .”
“Oh no, here it comes! Spare me your highbrow criticism.”
“I was just going to say, I like a good story, not just T-and-A.”
“Porn stars and women are human too, you know.”
“Really, women are people? Is that so?” I asked, facetiously. “Even you? I thought you were a goddess.”
“You sound like you’re making an object out of me.”
“Darling, you are first and foremost, a subject – the subject, in fact, of reams and reams of pages I’ve written about you.”
“Now you sound as though you’re fetishizing me.”
“Really? You think so?” I ask, even more facetiously. “If you haven’t noticed by now – NEWSFLASH! – you are my fetish.”
“Good grief! Freud would have a field day with you.”
“Lo, you’re all the porn I need.”
“All I’ve ever wanted to be was a good amateur.”
I lie down next to her. “You’re the best,” I say as I immediately begin to fall asleep. She complains that I’m uncomfortable to sleep on. “Your big barrel-chested torso is impossible to lie on.”
“It’s a big bed in a big room in a big hotel in a big city. . .”
“With a big jerk right in the middle of it!”
As I fall asleep, I can hear and feel her going at it again for that magic number three.
Match, Cinder & Spark: Volume II – MORE! is now available for your e-reader!
Match, Cinder & Spark: Volume II – MORE! is now available for your e-reader!
You can order your copy here:
