Lola and Imogen had gone to bed together, leaving Robert and me alone in the kitchen. He looked over to me quizzically and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Oh well. May the best man win – and this time it was a woman.”
I looked back at him, smirked, and said, “Join me for a drink?”
He put down the towel with which he was drying the dishes, pulled out two tumblers from the cupboard, got some ice and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He poured a glass for me and one for him. A heavy pour. I looked at the bottle and said to him, “Eighteen-years-old. Old for a whisky, young for a woman.”
He laughed and we went outside by the fire. Not without irony, we both got under the heavy wool blanket and were side-by-side on the outdoor couch, our feet warmed by the flames in front of us. We were cozy next to each other, slowly sipping our drinks, laughing, and chatting as we gazed into the flickering light.
As I have mentioned, dear reader, prior to the whole ménage à trois with Lo, Robert and I were actually good friends and closely collaborating colleagues. But ever since Lo literally and metaphorically came between us, we have grown apart. It was good to share a drink, share a laugh, share a blanket, and share a bed with him without sharing Lo’s body for a change.
We got to talking about philosophy, art, and poetry. In a reflective voice, I said to Robert: “We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.”
“What’s that from?” he asked.
“Rilke’s ‘Requiem.’ One of his most beautiful poems,” I said.
We both pondered the words in silence when, out of the darkness, who should appear but Lo, bare-assed as the day she was born. She was tiptoeing toward us.
“Isn’t this cute,” she said, looking at the two of us, “two penises in a pod.”
“That’s not the expression,” I said.
“Shut up and make room for me,” she said, “it’s freezing out.”
Robert and I each moved to our respective sides and Lo nestled her naked body between the two of us. “What are you two up to?” she asked, suggestively.
“Just reciting poetry,” said Robert.
“Really?!”
“Yes,” I said “And what have you and Imogen been up to?”
“Nothing,” she said with a pout. “She just fell right to sleep. That’s why I’m here now.”
“Because you’re interested in reciting poetry by firelight under the stars?” I asked.
“What a romantic,” said Lo, rubbing my leg under the blanket. “No, because I’m interested in seeing which one of you is going to cum first. My money is on HH since he didn’t cum earlier.”
As she said this, she was reaching down my pants with her right hand and reaching down Robert’s pants with her left, fumbling for our firewood.
“My hands are so cold,” she said. “Warm them up.”
Each of us loosened our belts and undid our pants so she could have an easier time creating friction for her chilly palms. Her tits were exposed to the cool air and her nipples were hard. She turned to Robert first and kissed him for a bit and then she turned to me and entwined her tongue with mine, never letting go of her twin possessions.
Soon both Robert and I were turned toward her, our rods pointing at her as she stroked them masterfully. Robert was fondling her breasts and I was reaching down to her puss. I could feel how wet she was. She could feel how hard I was. I know she felt my cock throbbing in her hand, ready to explode. She held even more tightly. Soon I was ejaculating in rhythmic spurts all over her hips. When I was done, I stood up and let her lick me clean, allowing Robert to see my flaccid manhood in her mouth. Then it was his turn and he covered her in his own icing as she gave him the attention he needed at the moment. He imitated my actions by standing up to allow her lick the very last drops from his cock.
When she was done, she said, “I’m going to take a shower. You two get naked and I’ll meet you in bed.”
Both Robert and I did as we were told and Lo arrived in bed soon thereafter. Robert, who had cum twice that evening, was depleted. I was no better. Lo engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between the two of us.
“I’m having a dinner party on Friday,” said Robert to Lo as he was about to depart from one of his rendezvous romps with Lo in our bedroom. She was standing naked in the hallway and I was opposite her, fully dressed, holding a tumbler of whiskey. Robert was between us, but facing Lo. “I was hoping you both would come,” he continued as he turned to me.
Lo walked up to him, a sparkle in her eye, and grabbed his arm. “That sounds like fun,” she said, without even consulting me or my calendar. “Who’ll be there?”
“It’s a group of colleagues from Australia. They’re here for a conference and my department nominated me to welcome them.”
“Australia!” Lo exclaimed. “I love going down under.”
“You’ve never been there,” I said, without thought to her double-entendre.
“I can’t wait,” she said without regard for my remark. “What time is the party?”
“I’ve invited people for seven,” he said, and before he could say any more Lo interrupted.
“We’ll come over at five! I love party planning!”
“But. . .” stammered Robert. “I was just inviting you to. . .”
Lo grabbed his arm and said, “A bachelor like you needs help throwing a party. Trust me. It takes a woman’s touch.” She leaned in closer to him and kissed him, her naked body pressed against his clothes as her left hand reached down and stroked his cock over his pants. “We’ll see you at five.”
Robert turned, nodded to me, and left in a rush, slightly embarrassed perhaps.
Friday Lo left work early and spent time at home getting all dolled up. By the time I walked through the door, she was wearing her black pumps, her short black skirt, and a low cut, tight fitting blouse. Her red lipstick stood out against all the black.
“Hi Daddio!” she said, “I thought you’d never get home. Are you ready to go?”
“I guess,” I said.
“Oh no,” she replied, looking me over. “You can’t go like that. Here, let me dress you.”
She led me to the bedroom where she promptly picked out exactly what she wanted me to wear.
“No, not that. I can’t stand that shirt,” I said.
“It looks great on you.”
“It’s too constricting.”
“We can’t all wear sweats all the time you know.”
“Just anything but that.”
“Fine,” she said, picking out an equally disliked shirt. I made no argument because I could see her determination.
“You just like me because I’m like you’re little plaything that you can dress up, take out, and show off,” I said.
“I could say the same about you, but I dress myself up, take myself out, and show myself off.”
“Touché.”
We left and Lo was very anxious and eager in the car. She kept rubbing my crotch as I drove and talking about the party. At some point I turned to her and said, “You know, Lo, it’s not planned to be a gangbang?”
“Who says?” she pouted.
We arrive just before five. Robert had four grocery bags full of food on the kitchen table. His plan included baking fish, a pasta side-dish, and a pie, as well as lots and lots of appetizers. Lo dove in, but before getting to work, she said, “I don’t want to get my outfit dirty while prepping.” She stripped down naked, but for her heels, and put on a cooking apron. Where it tied in the back revealed her sexy sweet ass. She was the picture of domestic bliss.
Lo was fast, efficient, and knew exactly what she wanted. Both Robert and I fumbled to keep up with her. But eventually we had everything laid out nicely, ready to receive Robert’s international cadre.
Surveying the open-plan living room and dining room, Lo seemed well pleased with her accomplishment, but then she said, “I just realized, I’m starving.” Between the kitchen and the dining room there was a tall half-wall that had a number of appetizer dishes laid out on it. Lo bent over and leaned on the wall, looking at the appetizers. As she did, her right hand moved down, behind her cooking apron and to her ass where Robert, who stood behind her could see. She added, “And I’m horny. Robert, are you up to fuck me?” she asked as she slapped her ass loudly to get his attention, as if he wasn’t already staring at her cunt.
Without a word, as if her ass slap was a special language between them, he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock. As he approached her from behind, she looked up at me and said, “Daddy, feed me.”
I was standing in the kitchen and saw her open her mouth. I picked up one of the small hors-d’oeuvre’s and raised it to her lips. She bit her lip as Robert entered her, but then she opened wide and took the whole thing.
“Feed me,” she commanded again as Robert was going at her from behind.
I selected a different delight for her.
Robert grabbed onto her waist. I continued to feed her and I said, “Lo, you want me to make you plump?”
“Yes Daddy. I want to be phat for you. I want to be soft and doughy.”
I continued to feed her and Robert continued to fuck her.
“Lo,” I said as I watched her tum and tits jiggle beneath her as Robert thrusted from behind, “I love your fat, your flab, your rolls, your chub, your pudge, your every delightful round, juicy, plump, perfect curve.”
She came. Then she said to me with a breathy voice, “Get me that.”
At first I didn’t know what “that” was, but she pointed. It was a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. I went to pass it to her, but she just held out her hand and said, “Pour.” I put a little in the palm of her hand. She reached back and applied it to her special spot.
“Robert,” she said, “You may have my ass now.”
Lo knew very well how, as permissive as I am, the granting of that one reserved pleasure makes me jealous. I should be the one to get the benefit of her ass. But I let her have her way. He entered her slowly as she guided him with her slippery hand. She moaned. He said, “Lo, you’re so tight.”
“Feed me!” she commanded me again. I obeyed. By this point the cooking apron’s knot had come untied and was drooping beneath her, only held up by the collar around her neck. Her tits were flopping forward and back as Robert thrust with strong movements deep in her ass. I saw her hands grab onto the marble of the countertop as she braced for a powerful orgasm. Robert began to moan loudly as he was on the cusp of cumming in her ass and Lo squeezed her knees together and held on tightly to the marble. She squirted all over Robert’s legs and the floor as he pulled out. Then Lo either decided or instinctively did something to get my ire up (and something else up). She turned round rapidly and got on her knees to take Robert’s cock in her mouth and let him explode there. She was still squirting on the floor in spurts and, when Robert finally pulled out of her hungry mouth, she collapsed in her own lady juices on the hardwood floor. Her legs were like jelly now. She squirted again as she said, “Holy fucking shit!” with both hands between her legs in a futile attempt to stem the flood.
Lola
Robert ran to the bathroom and got a few towels. He and I both helped Lo up and onto the couch, careful to place another towel under her before setting her down.
Robert dutifully cleaned up the mess on the floor and I gently kissed Lo’s forehead until she had regained some of her strength.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Robert cheerfully.
I removed Lo’s wet shoes and got a few paper towels to dry them off and clean them up.
Soon enough everything was neat and tidy again. Lo went to the bathroom to change back into her party outfit and spruce up a bit, leaving Robert and me alone.
“You know, you have an amazing woman,” he said. “Not only is she a fucking crazy nympho, but she can cook and host a party.”
“She’s pretty smart, too,” I added.
“That goes without saying,” he replied.
When Lo returned to the room, she looked ravishing. Even if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, her glow said, “I just got fucked beyond consciousness.” Too bad she had already been ravished by Robert and the guests were due soon, meaning I would be hard up the rest of the evening.
While she and Robert were in the living room and I in the kitchen, she said something to him I couldn’t hear. Then she came to me and was very demure.
“Daddy?” she opened.
“Yes,” I said without a hint of emotion, which gave away that I was very emotional.
“Are you mad?”
“No, Lo,” I said, perhaps lying, though I really didn’t know my own feelings.
“Kiss me,” she said.
I hesitated, but she came close and kissed me, open mouth, with lots of tongue.
When she was done, I said, “Well, wasn’t that just the coup de grâce?”
She replied, “You mean crudités?”
“I don’t know, was taking his cock in your mouth right from your ass merely an appetizer, or was it the final blow?”
“Well,” she said with a wicked smile, “I hope not final!”
She kissed me again and grabbed my package as she did saying, “Admit you liked it, Daddy?”
I said nothing, but my silence gave me away. I couldn’t both feign anger and be aroused at the same time, and the two contradictory feelings in me were wreaking havoc on my tortured soul.
Then she revealed to me the plan she and Robert had concocted together. Actually, that’s not fair. I’m sure that it was all Lo’s idea.
“Daddy,” she began, gently grabbing my arm.
“Yes?”
“If it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”
I was asleep when she walked in the dark bedroom. Nights like this, when she spends the night out with friends or lovers, it isn’t quite sleep. It’s more of a restful repose, just barely below the surface of consciousness. When I heard the bedroom door open, I was instantly awake, but I didn’t dare open my eyes or stir. I like to spy on her from the darkness. With one eye open, I saw her remove her blue dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She had been wearing a bra when she left the house. She wasn’t wearing panties when she left, so it was no surprise that she wasn’t wearing panties now. She slipped out of her heels and walked barefoot and bare assed into the bathroom. She turned the light on. She sat, peed, got up, brushed her teeth, and then slid under the covers next to me.
“I know you’re awake,” she whispered.
“Now I am,” I said.
“And I know you’ve been a bad boy,” she said, reaching down to my crotch and grabbing my hard cock.
“Look at you – kitten calling the cock back.”
She chuckled and said, “The expression is the kettle calling the pot black.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You left your vagina in the bathroom,” she said, disapprovingly, speaking of my Stoya Fleshlight.
“It needs to air dry. That’s what it says in the instructions.”
“So you used it?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Unlike Stoya, I don’t air dry. I’m always wet. Very wet.”
Stoya, Stoya’s Fleshlight, Art of Lola Down
“And full of Robert’s cum?”
“Get in me and find out.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” I said.
I climbed on top of her and spread her legs. I slid in and sloshed about. She moaned.
“Tell me,” I whispered in her ear.
“Am I wet?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Loose?”
“Very.”
She likes to hear how slippery and slutty she feels to me.
“Good,” she cooed in my ear.
“Tell me, what happened.” I was eager.
“You first,” she said.
“What? Why?”
“Because, if I tell you, you’ll cum and I want to hear about your night before you cum.”
She had a point. Well, she had two points if you include what I was giving her below the sheets.
“Well, I began by looking at the blog of TJ like you suggested.”
“Yes.”
“She’s so like you, it’s uncanny.”
“I know.”
“But that just made me want you.”
“Good.”
“And as I was thinking about you with Robert, I took out the Stoya Fleshlight and went through your photos. I looked at all the cumtributes you get from guys. I looked at the pics you sent to Robert and others. And then I came. I came hard.”
“Well, Daddy,” she began, knowing how to butter me up, “we met for drinks. He thought I looked great. I know I looked great because Robert wasn’t the only one staring at me.”
Just the thought of her walking into the bar was enough to put me over the edge. I had to slow down while she continued talking.
“We had a couple of drinks,” she said in her soft voice directly into my ear, “and then went to the theater. It had the big, leather, recliner chairs. But those aren’t great for romance. There’s the big, bulky armrest in separating you. We were sitting in the very last row and I put my seat way back. When the movie came on, I let the hem of my dress slide up and up and up.”
“Was he touching your knee?”
“He couldn’t reach. But he could see. It was an odd movie, but there were a few sexy scenes in it. And Emma Stone. . .” She trailed off as she came again.
Catching her breath she said, “Get behind me,” as she pulled out her phone to look at sexy pics of Emma Stone.
I got behind her and glanced over her shoulder at her phone. “Get back there and fuck me like you fucked Stoya!” she commanded.
I grabbed her hips and pulled her ass back as I thrust forward, deep into her. I could feel the tip of my cock dipping into her deep well where someone else had already cum and gone.
Emma Stone The Favourite
“I just touched myself during the sex scenes,” she said in between gasps. “He watched me. He wanted me. His right hand held my left and I squeezed hard every time my right hand brought me to an orgasm.”
She came as she recalled her climaxes in the theater.
“At a more boring point in the movie I got on my knees in front of him and pulled out his cock. I put it in my mouth and went to town on it.”
Luckily for her and for me, I had cum earlier in the night and so was able to weather this blow-by-blow account.
“He didn’t cum, which disappointed me. You know how I like to feel successful at everything I do. I think he was nervous we’d get caught. He lifted me up and tried to place me back in my seat, but I simply lifted up my tight blue dress and eased my ass down on his hard rod. Sitting on his lap, like a stripper in the club, I slowly slid back-and-forth. He came deep inside me. That was just before the movie ended and as we walked out, I could feel his cum oozing down the inside of my legs.”
That was all I could take. I exploded deep inside her, adding to her collection for the evening.
“That’s it, Daddio,” she said as I reached under her and slid my arms up to her breasts and held her tightly. “Use me. Make me yours again. Fill me up. Make me your cum-bucket.” I collapsed on top of her and held her in my arms while imaginings of her night flickered through my rapidly darkening mind.
Recently it was the 200th anniversary of Herman Melville’s birth and just about every report of the event included the phrase, “died in near obscurity.” This phrase, “near obscurity” has been bouncing around in my head. What is meant by “near” exactly? I understand obscurity. By far, the vast majority of authors die in obscurity, that is why, other than those whom I have personally known, I cannot name any of them. But what constitutes near obscurity for an author? Nietzsche, too, died in near obscurity. One might even say that Thoreau died in almost complete obscurity. Same with Zora Neale Hurston, Emily Dickinson, and Sylvia Plath. For each of these luminaries of literature, at the time of their deaths, either the light of their past glory had faded or, like Kafka, they never had any fame during their brief tenures above ground but, due to unforeseen assistance from the universe, their stars began to rise only after their mortal flames had expired.
Like you, I have frequently seen the bumper sticker advice of: Dance like no one is watching. Recently, though, I came across someone whose blog bio read: Write like no one is reading. (Unfortunately, that author’s name has escaped me, and so she must remain, to me at least, obscure.) That quip really stuck with me, just like the phrase “near obscurity.” These two adages knocked around in my brain like billiard balls.
Writing as if no one is reading is a liberating thought. It is permission. It is license. It is dangerous and risky. And so, perhaps, living, writing, and even dying “in near obscurity” isn’t so bad after all.
(It’s also important to recall that “obscurity” has a second meaning as well: unclear, difficult to understand, complex. Maybe that characterization doesn’t apply so much to this blog, but much of my writing would be aptly described as “almost totally obscure” in both senses of the word.)
When I look at our blog stats and I see that there are over one million views and over a thousand comments on the blog, not to mention all the other eyeballs watching Lola and me in our most intimate prose in other platforms around the blogosphere, and leaving out all the books we have sold over the years, I suddenly realize that there certainly are readers of what I’m writing. Yet, when you compare the numbers, it is easy to feel as if no one is reading. Various sources state that in there are approximately 500 million blogs in existence as I write this. That means that even if we round up all the various platforms upon which we appear to five million views, then that doesn’t even comprise 1% of just the writers out there, let alone the readers! Yes, multiple blogs may be owned by one person and writers are also readers, but you get my mathematical point, right? – Though people are reading the blog, it is “nearly obscure,” given the vastness of the virtual universe.
But the injunction to write like no one is reading is not saying that I shouldn’t have any audience at all. It’s saying to write as if the audience didn’t exist, just as I might dance as if all of you beautiful people on the dance floor with me weren’t judging my awkward movements. If the music so moves me and it gives me joy to dance, however I might express that joy, then, by all means, I dance as if no is watching. Same with writing.
Yet you million or so people out there, and especially you lovely likeminded literary leches out there who write to us – you do read us and thereby keep us from the cold uninhabited reaches of the blogosphere where we would be in complete obscurity. For that we thank you.
“Come,”
I heard her yell from the bedroom down the hall as I walked into the house
after a long Friday at work. She might
have been saying “Cum!” to a lover.
There’s never any way to tell from the sound of her voice – only on the
page.
I
cautiously walked down the long hall to the bedroom. What would I find?
The
door was open a crack. I peeked in. She was naked, on her tum, her round rump
nicely illuminated by the setting sun.
Her legs were bent at the knees and her bare feet dangled up in the air,
twined around each other. In her hand
she held her phone.
“Come
in, Daddio,” she said without turning her eyes from the screen in front of
her.
I
walked in and removed my jacket and tie.
“What
you up to?” I inquired.
“I
bet you’d like to know.”
“That
is why I asked,” I said flatly as I removed my shirt and undid my belt.
“Get
naked, get hard, and get in me,” she commanded.
“I’m
already hard,” I said.
“As
you should be,” she replied, moving her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers
and then moving her hand to her ass and circling her wet fingers around her
special spot.
“Oh,”
I commented, “You want it like that?”
“No,
Daddio,” she said, “I’m just enjoying myself.”
Always
coy when it comes to her ass. Always for
someone else, or for her own pleasure, but never for me.
I
got behind her and tried to look at her phone by leaning forward over her back
and seeing over her shoulder.
“Get
up there and fuck me,” she instructed, her finger still rounding her sweet spot
as I slid into her puss. “I’ll tell you
what I’m looking at.”
I
did as she said and she told me that a fellow blogger, a woman named TJ, wrote
to us saying, “I love reading your blog.
It gets me so wet.”
“Really?! Do I know this TJ?” I asked as I thrusted
harder.
I
slowed down a bit trying to remember which erotic blog that was.
“Don’t
stop!” Lo said as her hand grabbed the girth of my cock and she pushed her ass
back into my hips, bouncing off of my bare bodkin.
I
resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding.
“Look,”
she said, putting her phone up on her back for me to read the email. It said:
I love how
accepting you are of Lola’s magnificent sexuality. You guys seem to have ‘it’
don’t you? I wish I could masturbate as openly as you do, Lola. I feel
self-conscious, like an addict or something. But I fucking love fucking myself.
. . it’s the best. I am more autosexual than anything else I think. Keep
celebrating each other.
Fan mail like that makes it all
worth it. Well, that’s not completely
true. I know that I would be writing all
this whether no one read it, or only one person read it – Lola. But knowing that others read it, enjoy it,
and get off to it is the icing on the cake.
Speaking
of icing, as I read the email, Lo began to climax as one hand worked her ass
and the other, from underneath, worked her clit. Her Kegel muscles contracted and I was
squeezed out of her as she curled into a convulsing, throbbing ball, squirting
uncontrollably. The more she pushed her
knees up to her breasts in a tightly bound fetal position, the more she sprayed
the bed and my knees. I lifted up her
phone to prevent it from being ruined by the liquid.
TJ, author and model of The Lustful Empress, getting off to Lo
“Fuuuu-uuuuck,”
she groaned as the last bit of lady juice spurted out of her.
When
she regained control of her limbs, she slowly got up and pulled the soaked
sheets with her, dropping them in the laundry basket. “I’ll clean up, Daddy, but right now I have
to get ready.”
“Ready
for what?” I asked, holding my throbbing, hard rod in my hand.
“My
date.”
“Date?”
“With
Robert. I told you, didn’t I?”
I
just looked dumbfounded.
“We’re
going to the movies.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And
what are you seeing?”
“The Favourite.”
“Is
he your favorite now?” I asked, demoralized.
“No,
Daddio, she said, caressing me and looking up at me with those beautiful big
brown eyes. “That’s the name of the
movie. It’s a period piece.”
“Really? Not a porno?”
“Well,
I hear it has a lot of woman-on-woman sex scenes.”
“I
knew it!”
“But
that’s not why we’re going to see it.”
“You’re
going to see it to have sex in a crowded theater.”
“Oh,
Daddy, you always impute to me the most debased of motives.”
“So
why are you going to see it?”
“It’s
historical. It has great sets, acting,
and costumes.”
“And?”
“And
probably to fuck in a dark theater.”
“Don’t
get caught.”
“But
getting caught is at least half the fun.
Does that make you jealous?” she asked, as her hand stroked my hard
cock.
“So
you’re leaving me home alone on a Friday night?”
“Not
totally alone,” she said, “You have TJ.”
“Who?”
“TJ,
the woman from the blog.”
“Oh,
right,” I said to my consolation prize.
Lola
made the bed and I watched her tits droop as she bent over to tuck in the
sheets. Her naked body moved like a
delightful dance as she unfurled the blanket.
“Look,”
she said, as she hopped back in the bed and took up her phone. I sat next to her. Her left hand stroked my hard erection up and
down as she scrolled through TJ’s blog with her right hand.
We
read and looked at the photos together.
Lola
TJ of The Lustful Empress
“She
sounds like she could be your twin sister,” I said as I read about how TJ
becomes aroused by her own naked body.
“Hold
this,” she said, giving me the phone.
Now,
with her right hand she was stroking her pussy and I scrolled through the
blog.
“Oh
boy,” I said, “You want her.”
Lo
bit her lower lip.
“Lo,”
I cautioned, “You just made the bed. You
don’t want to. . .”
Before
I could finish my sentence, she had jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom,
barely making it to the toilet before releasing her ejaculate all over the tile
floor with a scream.
When
she had regained her composure, she got some paper towels and got on her hands
and knees to clean up the mess.
“What
time is your movie?”
“Eight,”
she called back. “But we’re meeting for
drinks first.”
“Well,
you’re going to be late,” I told her.
She
jumped in the shower and I continued to look at the blog, hard up.
“Hey,”
she called to me, “you’re not allowed to cum.
You know that, right?”
“I
still don’t understand how that is fair,” I said, taunting her.
I
got up and looked at her in the shower.
“Get!”
she screamed. She hates when I see her
in her shower cap.
“How
is it fair that you get to cum twice and then go on a date with another man and
I’m not allowed any autoerotica myself?”
“First,”
she said from behind the shower curtain, “it’s not autoerotic if you use
someone else’s pictures. Second, you
didn’t count the three times I came before you got home.”
“Lo,
now you’re just. . .”
“And
third,” she cut me off, “this has nothing to do with fairness. It has everything to do with me.
What I want. What I allow
you. Got that? Don’t forget it.”
Lo
jumped out of the shower and hastily dried off before slipping into a blue
dress and blue heels. No panties.
“You’re
going to be cold like that,” I cautioned.
“I’m
planning on things heating up quickly,” she said.
Soon
enough she was out the door, leaving me alone.
I
scrolled through TJ’s blog, which I recalled I had seen before, and I thought
to myself, “She said no cumming, but she didn’t say no edging.”
I
spent about an hour going through each and every post before I thought to
myself, “If I don’t stop this right now, I’m going to explode!”
Stoya Left, Lola Right
In
order to take the edge off, I switched to photos of Lo, which are always fair
game, and I pulled out the old Stoya Fleshlight. Lubing up Stoya and myself, I imagined what
Lo was up to with Robert. I didn’t even
need to see Lo’s photos. Soon enough I was
cumming and cumming hard and deep in Stoya’s pussy, just thinking about Lo in a
dark theater, legs spread, and Robert discretely moving his hand up her smooth
thigh until reaching that wet pussy, pulsating with anticipation. Gently he would rub and flick her pussy lips,
clandestinely making her cum. I pictured
her hands gripping the seat and her upper teeth biting down on her bottom lip
to prevent the scream from escaping her mouth.
That was enough to bring me over the edge and release me into a deep
sleep.
Lo’s
trysts with Robert continued on a fairly regular basis. He’d text.
She’d encourage him to come. He
would. But as his drop-ins became more
frequent, the novelty of it began to wear off for Lo, and perhaps for Robert as
well. And so they would engage in
different, ever more elaborate conceits to involve me in their affair. I shall mention just a few of them here.
Though
I sat merely yards away from where they were going at it in the bedroom, one
time Lo called me on her phone from there to the living room. I could practically hear her talking, even
without the use of the phone, yet she spoke to me as if I was far off in
another town.
“Daddy,
do you want to know what Robert is doing to me now?”
“What’s
he doing, Lo?” I asked, nonchalantly.
“He’s
behind me, fucking me doggy-style. His
cock is so long, it’s hitting my spot perfectly,” she said, following it up
with a long moan that I could hear perfectly in the living room.
Another
time, as they were going at it in the bedroom, Lo took a selfie. She was doggie-style, he behind her. She made a big ‘O’ with her mouth as if she
were in ecstasy. She texted the photo to
me.
A
different night, after I showed Robert into the bedroom and I was about to turn
to leave, Lo stopped me. She was naked
under the sheets. Robert was fully
dressed and anxious. Lo said, “Wait,
Daddio.”
“Yes,”
I asked, like a dutiful servant in a nineteenth century English manor
house.
“Tonight
I’m going to give Robert my ass,” she said.
“And?”
I asked politely.
She
fumbled in the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Will you grease me up?” she asked, pulling
down the sheets, turning over, protruding her ass in the air and pointing to
her special spot.
Devotedly,
I took the lube and covered my index finger with it and proceeded to spread it
all around her target as she moaned and wiggled her ass. I then inserted my finger in and out as
Robert looked on. “Like this, Lo?” I
asked.
Right there!
“MmmmmHmmmm,”
she said, “More.”
I
continued. She orgasmed, collapsing into
the bed.
“That
will be all,” she said dismissively.
“Robert, I’m ready for you.” And
she slid on her tum so that her legs were spread on the floor and she was bent
over at a ninety-degree angle on the bed.
I saw Robert unbuckle his belt and undo his pants as I slowly closed the
door. I heard Lo moan as he entered her
and I walked down the hall.
“Daddio,”
I heard her call once more, just as I got to the living room.
I
returned and knocked on the door.
“Come
in,” said Lo, struggling to speak.
I
entered the room. Robert had already
entered her. Lo looked up at me.
“Daddio,”
she said.
“Yes?”
“Do
you want to fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass?”
“If
that gives you pleasure,” I said.
“Where
is it?”
“She’s
in the closet.”
“She?!”
she said, “Now it has a gender?!”
“She’s
a vagina. Of course she has a
gender. She goes by the pronouns: She,
Her, Hers.”
“It
is just a vagina.”
“I
don’t reduce women to only their genitalia,” I said, aware of the irony of my
statement.
“Well,
grab your vagina and pull out your cock,” she said.
I
got my Stoya Fleshlight and unzipped my pants.
Lo applied the lube to my cock and then held Stoya in her hands as I
penetrated her (that is, Stoya’s) vagina.
Stoya & Stoya’s Fleshlight
“That’s
it, Daddio. You fuck Stoya while Robert
fucks my ass,” she said with clear delight.
She shut her eyes and enjoyed the ride.
In a remarkable chain reaction, Lo began to cum and then both Robert and
I came, making for a splendid triple play.
“This is for you, Daddy”
These
odd requests and variations were the exception, however, not the norm. The norm was a five or ten minute shag, one
orgasm achieved by each party, and then on went the clothes and out the door
went Robert.
One
night Lo had already said yes to Robert’s request to come over, but as he was
on his way, she remembered that she was supposed to make a call overseas for
work. She was planning a major event and
had invited some big name people to join.
She had to make the call and it wouldn’t be a short conversation.
Lo
was already on the phone with her connection abroad when Robert arrived. I explained to Robert the mix-up when he
walked in and he asked, “Should I wait?” looking uncomfortable about the
prospect, and also a bit disappointed and a tad upset. Spoiled man.
“No,”
I said in reply. “Lola said you could
quietly sneak in.”
Sneak
into what? The bedroom? Her snatch?
Both apparently.
Lo
was naked, standing up, bent over a desk, one hand holding the phone and the
other a pen as she took notes. She used
the pen to point to her ass and indicated where she wanted Robert. She then put the pen perpendicularly over her
lips to indicate, “Shhhhhh.” Robert
didn’t even fully undress. He just
pulled out his rod and mounted her, slowly and easily. She continued her conversation as if nothing
was happening behind her. He slid in and
out, using her wet snatch for his pleasure until he finally came deep inside
her. He put his pud back in his pants,
zipped up, washed off, and blew a kiss goodbye to Lo as she continued to take
notes, cum dripping down her inner thigh.
After I saw Robert out, I got a warm washcloth to clean her off. When she was finally done with her business
call, she joined me in the bed.
Thanks Robert
“Did
you enjoy that?” I asked.
“Enjoy
it?” she asked back, surprised. “I
didn’t even notice. I was too focused on
the phone call.”
I get in bed. I think Lo’s asleep, but she isn’t. She unbuttons my pj bottoms and pulls out my
cock and grips it tightly with one hand.
Her other hand is between her legs.
She begins stroking my rod up and down.
She spreads her legs and moans. I
begin to maneuver myself over her body in order to penetrate her, but she says,
“No, Daddy.”
“No?”
“No. Just lie on your back.”
“But,
don’t you want me?”
“I
want dick. I want to hold it. Just stay just like that,” she says. I give in to her request to lie on my back as
she grasps my member with her left hand while stroking herself with her
right. Her eyes remain closed. Her breathing accelerates. Her breasts heave. After ten minutes or so, she begins
convulsing. She lets go of my phallus
and grabs the sheets beneath her with her left hand as her right hand is
plunging in-and-out of her gushing pussy.
She moans, screams, and cums in waves.
After
she has a moment to catch her breath, I ask her, “What were you imagining?”
“It’s
bad, Daddy.”
“I
like bad.”
“I
was envisioning us,” she says enigmatically.
“Us
how?”
“I imagined that we were going to the Erotica convention and that we were headlining for a reading ofMatch, Cinder & Spark. It was at a dingy theater in a foreign town. Up on the marquee it read, in big red letters, ‘LOLA DOWN READS XXX.’ We were backstage. I had you peek out from the wings at the audience. It was slowly growing in number – men and women. Finally, about five minutes after the show was supposed to start, the host or MC for the evening took the stage and announced the rules, ‘No photography! No recording! Yes, masturbating, as long as you don’t make a mess of the seats. Please turn off your cell phones and give a warm, wet welcome for Lola Down and H.H.!’ The place erupted with applause. You and I walked out onto the stage. There was only a rectangular table and two chairs. On the rectangular table was a microphone and a tall glass of water and a pitcher of water. We bowed and sat in the chairs. I opened Match to one of my favorite passages and began reading. I was wearing only a sexy red dress with strappy heels. No panties. No bra. I began with my legs crossed. I continued reading and I uncrossed my legs. I gave the audience a quick flash of my puss. I continued reading. I spread my legs again. I dropped one hand down to my crotch and began masturbating. With the other hand, I held yours. I paused for a moment. I took a sip of water and looked out into the audience and said in a breathy voice, ‘It’s getting hot in here.’ You lovingly pulled the shoulder straps of my dress off of my shoulders and I pulled my arms through them. I continued reading. You slowly pulled down my red dress to reveal my breasts. I continued touching my puss as I wiggled and wriggled out of the dress until it lay on the floor at my feet. Finally I was naked and I continued reading the passage but, at a certain part I stopped. I was beginning to climax. You took over. At the sound of your voice I came and I came hard – screaming and squirting. You finally finished the passage. You invited people up to the stage to have their copies of Match signed by the two of us. As each person came up, they stopped before me with the book open to the page they wanted signed. Usually it’s opened to a full color picture of me doing something naughty. Some of the men asked if they can masturbate to me. ‘Now?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ they said, politely. I agreed. They pulled out their cocks and they began jackin’ it over me as I sat naked in the chair. You sat and watched. They came. They came on my body, on my face, in my mouth, in my hair, everywhere until I was cum-covered. After everyone got what they wanted, you took me backstage. There, some women who were part of the convention were waiting and they got clothes and a bucket of warm water and they cleaned me off. ‘Was I good, Daddy?’ I asked you as they were tending to me. ‘You were wonderful,’ you said.”
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!”
Late
one night, Lo got a text from Robert.
“Can I come over?” it read.
We
were in bed. I was reading. She was looking at who-knows-what on her
phone. She showed me the text.
“It’s
rather late, is it not? What’s he want?”
“Do
you want me to find out?”
“Sure.”
“Cum
over whom?” she texted back.
“Ha
ha,” he wrote. “You read my mind.”
“You’re
hard up and you just want to come here and use me?” she texted back.
There
was no response for a while, just ellipses displayed on the phone screen as if
he was texting and then deleting his text, not sure what to say. Lo texted him, “Is that it?”
Finally
he responded with, “Well. . .”
“Then
say it,” she demanded.”
“I’m
hard up and I want to come over and use your sweet body,” he texted.
She
was fingering herself now. Lo loves to
be longed for. “Good boy,” she
wrote. “HH is here.”
“Is
it ok with him?” he asked.
“Is
it ok with you?” Lo asked me.
“If
you want to,” I said, “then I’m fine with it.”
“Drive
fast,” she wrote to Robert.
She
reached under the bed and pulled out her double-ended dildo. She began plunging away.
“Lo,
you wouldn’t rather I do that?” I asked.
“OK,
here,” she said, getting on all fours and turning her ass toward me so I could
grab the dildo and use it on her.
“I
meant, wouldn’t you rather that I
fuck you?” I asked, taking the end of the dildo in hand and pushing in, pulling
out.
“Oh,”
she said. “I hadn’t thought of
that. Actually, I’d prefer this because
I’m saving myself for Robert.”
I
had to laugh. “Saving yourself?”
“Yeah. And saving you. You are not to cum until I give you explicit
permission.”
“Ah,
Lo, my slut and savior.”
She
came.
She
squirted all over the bedsheets.
“Fuck!”
she exclaimed, half in anger and half in ecstasy. “Now I have to strip.”
“You’re
already naked.”
“Strip
the bed.”
She
got up, and hurriedly pulled everything off the bed and then made it again with
fresh linens.
The
doorbell rang.
“Don’t
worry, Lo,” I said, “I’ll get it.”
She
wasn’t worried. She was lying in the newly
made bed and using her phone camera as a mirror, looking at herself. “You’ll show him in, won’t you?” she said in
a faux high-class 1940’s era movie accent.
“Yes,
madam,” I replied, like her butler, as I left the room.
At
the door I said, “Robert, so good to see you,” as I extended my hand to shake
his. “You must be here to see Lo. Please, follow me.” I led him down the hallway to the master
bedroom. “Right this way. She is expecting you.”
Robert,
embarrassed, didn’t even say anything.
He just had a sheepish smile on his face. He knew what he was there for. I knew what he was there for. And he knew that I knew what he was there
for.
As
I opened the door to the bedroom, I saw Lo in the bed under the covers, but
with her breasts exposed. Though the
covers were over her, I could see that her legs were spread and her hands
between them. “Thank you HH,” she said,
dismissively.
“Ready Daddy”
Robert
walked into the bedroom like a boss. I
walked away. When I got to the living
room, I saw that Lo had snapped a photo of herself and sent it to me. It was a sexy tease.
From
the living room I could hear the rhythmic sound of the bed moving, Lo moaning
and then calling out, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes, harder, yes!”
A
few moments later I heard her saying her familiar refrain, “I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m cumming.”
Minutes
after that, I heard the bedroom door open and saw Robert walk down the
hallway. I stood up. I met him at the front door. He didn’t know what to say.
“Care
for a drink?” I asked.
“No
thank you, HH,” he said politely.
“Well,
come again,” I said as I opened the door.
He
walked out. I walked to the
bedroom. Lo was now lying on the bed,
completely naked, the blankets strewn about, her legs spread and her hands
cupped over her cunt.
“Come,
Daddy,” she said. “Hurry.”
I
got naked and was between her legs looking down at her. She pulled her hand away and I saw her oozing
with Robert’s cum. “Get in me,” she
commanded.
I
obeyed.
“That
was fast,” I remarked.
“Fast,
hard, and soooo good,” she said.
“You
liked it?”
“I
loved it.”
“What
about his, you know, his problem?”
“He
had no problem tonight.”
“Lucky
you.”
“Yeah,
he told me that knowing you were in the next room and that you could hear it
all excited him. He really liked that.”
“Glad
I could be of help,” I said.
“Do
you like putting your cock into the puddle he made in me?”
“Yes.”
“Do
you like that I’m such a dirty little whore?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like when my cunt is filled
with cum from your friends, Daddy?”
“Mmmmm,”
was all I could say as dipped my stick deep into her wet, warm, and worn puss.
“Do
you. . .”
I
came, adding to her collection, before she could properly get through her cuck
catechism.
“Do
you. . .”
Filled and oozing
“I
love you, Lo,” was all I managed to say.
“Yeah,
well, I didn’t cum yet,” she said, upset.
“You
came with Robert and you came before Robert with your dildo.”
Friday and finally all my meetings were over. I flew home that night. I hadn’t heard from Lo since the previous night when she enigmatically told me that she had dinner with Robert. I was eager to see her. I was hard-up and aching for release. On top of that, there was the tantalizing mystery of what happened on her “date” with Robert. Just to make matters worse, fate so ordained it that on my flight home I was seated next to a young, attractive college girl wearing a tight fitting miniskirt and a low cut blouse. Her breasts were full and, when placing her carryon in the storage compartment above, she stretched and revealed a delectable midriff and even some under-boob. When we sat down, she saw that I was reading Fast Girl, the book by Suzy Favor Hamilton about her life as a high-end Vegas escort and her sex addiction.
Suzy Favor Hamilton
“What
is that?” she asked, naively, but with a hint of being in-the-know.
“It’s
a memoir,” I said tersely. Her interest
made me nervous. Her looks made me more
nervous. Her age made me simply
petrified – in every sense of the term.
“I
think I’ve heard of it. It’s about. . .”
her brow wrinkled with the struggle of recall.
“A
woman who leads a double-life as a devoted wife and mom and as a prostitute.”
“Oh,”
she said, shocked at my candor. She
quickly followed it up with a smile and, “Do you like it?”
Suzy Favor Hamilton
There
was a mischievousness to her question that indicated to me that she wanted to
know what turns me on.
“It’s
my homework,” I said, as if that negated any pleasure I may derive from it.
“Homework?”
she asked. “What class are you in?” She wanted to enroll.
“My
girlfriend assigned it to me. She said
it would help me understand her better. The last assignment was Getting Off, about a woman addicted to
self-pleasure through humiliation porn.”
“Girlfriend?”
she asked. “Aren’t you married?” she
inquired while indicating my wedding band.
Clearly she was interested in more than my reading material.
“Oh
that,” I said, “I wear it to keep the ladies away.” My standard line.
“Yeah
right,” she said. “Every guy knows that
nothing attracts single women like a man who’s spoken for.”
“You
got me there,” I said. She was
attracted. This would be a l-o-n-g
flight.
“I
wish,” she said under her breath. “So,
your girlfriend – or whatever – is addicted to porn?”
“I
don’t know that she’s addicted to porn.
She likes porn. But she
definitely is addicted to pleasure.”
“I
know the feeling,” she said.
“Is
that so?”
“Would
you like to know the feeling?”
“Look,”
I said, “what’s your name?”
“Kayla,”
she said. Of course her name was Kayla.
“Look
Kayla, I’m already involved with a nymphomaniac. It takes every ounce of my energy, focus,
concentration, devotion, love, and chi to satisfy her. . . and still I come up
short. I appreciate your interest. I really do, but I’m on my way back home to
see her, and, well, to be honest, the beautiful batting of your eyelashes is
very well and good, but I’ve got a perfect slut waiting for me at home.”
If
this attractive, flirty, young woman had been sitting next to me on the departure
flight, when I was more mad at Lo than missing her, things may have been
different. Even then, the fact is, no
matter how angry I am with her, I still love Lo. And I know, no matter how attractive other
women may be, the witty repartee that Lo and I have is inimitable.
I tried to make my
position clear. She accepted the
boundaries I had set. But she switched
gears and now asked me all about Lo. I
gladly told her. It was probably my best
in-flight conversation. By the time we
landed, despite our fight or because of it, I wanted Lo more than ever. (I gave Kayla the blog address, just so she could
see for herself how it’s done.)
I
got home and as soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in for trouble. Lo wasn’t talking to me except monosyllabic
words. “Hi.”
“How
are you?” I asked.
“Fine.”
You
get the gist. But she was dressed in a
pink sleeveless t-shirt and her black lace panties. That’s it.
She pranced around with her hard nipples poking through the front of her
shirt, her side-boobs bouncing and peeking out from the open underarms. She.
Looked. Good.
Surf’s Up
I
was hard.
I
wanted her.
I
needed her.
I
had no idea how to approach her.
So
I took the direct approach: “You wanna fuck?”
“Your
seduction technique is so subtle, yet captivating,” she said.
I
knew I was making good progress because captivating is four syllables.
“Yeah,”
I said, nonchalantly.
“Then
why are you still wearing your clothes?”
I
stripped and she pulled down her panties.
Her
pussy was smooth, shaven, pink and beautiful.
“What’s
the occasion?” I asked.
“This?”
she asked, stroking her lovely mons pubis.
“Yeah,”
I said, “that.” For a moment I was under
the impression that she was anticipating my return and that she had shaved for
me. She disabused me of that notion
right away.
“I
told you,” she said, “I was seeing Robert last night.”
We
were in the bed now. I was looking down
at her lovely body. “You did that for
Robert?”
“Semper
fi,” she said.
“Semper fi?” I asked,
perplexed.
“Yeah,”
she said, “Always prepared; the motto of the marines.”
“Semper
fi means ‘always faithful.’”
“Oh,”
she said. “Whoops!”
“You
can say that again. So, were you
faithful?”
“Fuck
me and I’ll tell you.”
I
was arched over her and I enjoyed looking at her beautiful body as her hand
guided my protruding member up and down her wet labia. “Come on, Daddy,” she said, “fuck me. You know you need it. Take it.”
I
penetrated her. From the feel of things,
she needed me as much as I needed her.
Once
I had fully engorged her, I asked, “So, what happened last night?”
She
was too busy enjoying my rod. She came
within seconds.
I
waited for her to catch her breath.
“Tell me,” I commanded.
“I
met him at his house,” she said in her breathy voice.
“What
were you wearing?”
“A
short skirt. My leather boots. A tight top.”
“Go
on.”
“I
met him there. He kissed me hello.”
“On
the lips?”
“Yes.”
“Mighty
forward of him.”
“I
made sure it was on the lips.”
“Oh.”
“We
talked a little and then he drove us to the restaurant. I think he liked being seen in there with
me. It looked like a first or second
date, I’m sure.”
“What
did you talk about?”
“Him,
mostly. His needs. His wants.
His desires.”
“Oh,
so you talked about you.”
“You
could say that.”
She
came again. Nothing excites her as much
as she.
“And
then?”
“We
went back to his place. He invited me
in. He offered me a drink. We sat on the couch. Before I finished my first drink, we were
making out. His hands were under my top,
feeling my breasts, pulling my nipples.”
Too
much! I came.
As
I pulled out of her and rolled on my back, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll have
to wait to hear how the night ended.”
“Uh-uh,”
I said, “You’re going to finish this slut-saga tonight.
“Only
if you’ll fuck me again.”
“Start
talking. You know what your words do to
me.”
She
moved closer to me and her index finger twirled around my flaccid cock as she
spoke:
His fingers were running up and down
my clit over my panties. Within a couple
of strokes, my panties were soaked. He
could feel it.
‘Why
have you held out on me all this time?’ I asked Robert as he was feverishly
trying to slide my panties over my boots.
He got them off and he was trying to
remove my skirt, but it has a zipper in the back. I kissed him and slowly stood up, turned
around, and let him unzip it. The skirt
fell to the floor and he felt my bare ass with his hands and then he began
kissing it.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Even more beautiful than in your photos.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, turning around
to face him. He saw my silky smooth
pussy. He kissed it. I came.
I came hard just from the light touch of his lips on my soft
triangle. I had to grab his shoulders to
steady myself. I pulled his head in to
my tum and he kissed me as he slowly removed my shirt. He sucked on my tits as I stood totally naked
before him.
‘Here I am, bare as the day I was
born,’ I said, ‘and you have all your clothes on.’
I began unbuttoning his dress
shirt. I got him out of it and out of
his t-shirt. I then got him to stand as
I got on my knees and I undid his belt, his pants button, his fly, and slowly
pulled down his trousers. I could see
his enormously long cock in his boxers.
I wanted it. I pulled down his
boxers and there it was, just as I remembered it. It was beautiful, but it was as soft as you
are right now.
I
was soft, but getting harder. “He did
tell us that he has a performance problem,” I said.
“Yeah,
I know,” she said. “I sucked on it and
gave it my best blowjob, but damn it all, I couldn’t get it hard.”
“Really?!” That was a first.
“Yeah,”
she said.
“Please
demonstrate,” I asked. “Perhaps there is
a problem with your technique.”
That
really pissed her off. Never insult Lo’s
skills in the bedroom, or any other room.
She
put her mouth on my cock and said, “I have impeccable technique.” That she did.
She worked on my slack slinky and it slowly regained some rigidity.
As
she lifted her soft lips off my stuff, she said, “He didn’t respond to my
loving labia, so I got under him and opened wide, taking his huge balls in my
mouth. That he liked. It got an immediate reaction.”
“You
are fond of instantaneous reviews.”
“He
then guided me to the bedroom where. . .”
“No,
wait,” I interrupted, “let me get in you now.”
I was hard-up and wanted to hear the end of her story from a position
that would allow me to gage her level of excitement. I slid my arousal-meter inside her and she
continued.
“We got into bed
and, well, he was still having difficulty performing. I asked him, ‘Do you want to look at some
porn together?’”
“You wanted it
bad, didn’t you?” I asked.
“I’m always up for
porn,” she said, nonchalantly. “And he
was too. He pulled up the blog.”
“Our blog?!”
“Yes. What other blog?”
“OK.”
“And we scrolled
through some pics together. He settled
on one of you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. And he got hard.”
“You’re kidding
me.”
“No I’m not. I asked him, ‘You like his cock?’ and he
said, ‘Yes.’”
“You wouldn’t put
me on like that, would you?”
“I swear,” she
said, sincerely. “I asked him more about
it and he told me that he thinks his problem might be that he’s gay. He said he likes being with women, but he gets turned on by looking at guys.”
“So what did you
do?”
“We looked at some
more porn together, mostly gay porn, cuck porn, and swinger porn. He eventually turned me over, doggy-style,
put his laptop on my back, and fucked me from behind.”
“He used you like
a coffee table?!”
“Well, if someone
invented a cross between a coffee table and a fuck doll, then, yes.”
“Good idea.”
“And then he asked
me if he could go in my ass.”
“The audacity of
that man!”
“And I said yes.”
“You little slut.”
“Yes, Daddy. Say it again.
You’re turning me on.”
“You skank. You trollop.”
“He went in my ass
and then he asked, very politely, if he could cum in me.”
“You anal
whore. I bet you wanted him to.”
“Well, I had cum
so many times by that point, it only seemed fair.”
After she said
that, I came, not in her ass, but deep in her, for the second time.
“I’m glad you were
able to be so charitable while I was away,” I said. I have to admit, I felt a twinge of jealously
and, for a moment, I regretted not taking advantage of my opportunity on the
plane.
“Why didn’t you
sleep over?” I asked her.
“It had been a
long time since I had anal sex,” she began to say.
“Don’t I know it,”
I added.
“And so I wanted
to go home to clean up. I’m sorry, but I
may have made a bit of a mess on your car seat.”
