When I
left, Lo and I were in a big fight. It’s
never good to leave for a week-long business trip halfway across the country on
bad terms. Especially with Lo. There wasn’t one thing that was the catalyst
of this rift, but rather lots of little things.
Both she and I had been dealing with pressures at work, I had been
recovering from the flu, she had an unexpected major expense that had to be
paid. We both were stressed, exhausted,
and short-tempered. Each of us had been
prickly with the other, like two porcupines in close quarters.
“Come here,
Daddio,” she said the night before I left as I was getting ready for bed. It was her way of trying to rekindle the
relationship. “I’m so cold. Come and warm me up.” Though she really was cold, she also was
naked on the bed, spreading her legs for me, rubbing her puss.
“Cold? Looks to me like you have a very warm
fleece,” I said of her au naturel triangle, “and all that friction you’re
making might light that bush on fire.”
The words came out more sarcastic and biting than I intended. My loving little banter was not warmly
received.
Watering the Bush
“If you
don’t like it, you can’t have it,” she shot back, covering herself with the
blankets.
“I never
said I didn’t like it.”
“Well, too
late. This bush is only for someone who
truly appreciates me.”
“And who
might that be?”
“ME!” she
said, pulling out her Hitachi, her dildo, and her phone.
No sooner
had she gotten the giant white ice cream cone revved up and the dildo delved in
deep and the phone queued to one of her favorite porn videos than, to her great
surprise, the phone rang! She nearly
jumped out of the bed. She dropped the
Hitachi and it was still buzzing. Her
dildo was left dangling, and she had to fumble with her phone as she said hello
because all the moaning and groaning sounds of the porno film were still
playing.
“Hi Lo,”
the person on the other end said, “Is this an ok time?”
“Yeah. Yes.
Sure. Just one sec.,” said Lo as
she tried to compose herself and shut off all her stimulation devices. Finally she was focused on the call and I
climbed into bed next to her, stroking my cock.
Seeing her pleasure herself still gets me off after all this time. But seeing her interrupted and frustrated is
a rare delight.
It was
Robert. He needed someone to talk
to. He was feeling despondent. And he had been scrolling through the
blog.
I curled up
next to Lo and whispered, “Don’t tell him I’m here,” as I guided my cock into
her cupped hand. She mindlessly gave me
a hand-job as she talked to Robert. Or
rather, I should say, I eased my way in-and-out of her palm. She was unaware of or unconcerned with my
movements.
She talked
to him in a consoling and kind tone, listening to his lament of
loneliness. He hadn’t been with someone
in so long. The night at the museum was
such a powerful moment for him. Since
then he had done more study of Koons and his Made in Heaven installation.
Jeff Koons and his wife Ilona Staller, “Made in Heaven”
When I
heard that, I was both amused and angered.
I’m the one who turned Lo onto Koons! I deserve the credit for that. Whatever.
I continued
to slide my cock in-and-out of her cupped hand.
I kept quiet.
“What did
you like about it?” asked Lo to Robert in her seductive tone of voice.
“I, um, I
liked, I like that you suggested it to me.”
“Really?”
asked Lo, intrigued. “Why?”
“Lo, I, uh,
I never met a woman like you.”
“Go on,”
she said, captivated by the story of herself.
“You’re so
brazen. Is that the right word? So, daring.
So. . .”
“Slutty?”
“That’s not
the word I was going to use.”
“Use it,”
she commanded.
“What?” he
said, as if he hadn’t heard her properly.
“Call me a
slut. I like it. Say it.
I’m touching myself now.”
She
wasn’t. She was holding the phone with
one hand and my member with the other.
“OK,” said
Robert. “You’re a slut.”
“Yesss,”
said Lo.
That was
too much for me. I pulled back and
grabbed my cock and came all over myself as Lo looked on, desirously.
Now she was
touching herself.
“Are you
jackin’ it?” she asked Robert.
“Am I. . .
?”
“Are you
jacking off? Stroking yourself?”
“No,” he
said, as if offended.
“Why not?”
“Lo, I
didn’t call you like someone would call a phone sex service.”
“You
didn’t?”
“No. I. . .”
“But you
can. What do you want to hear?”
There was a
long silence on the other end interrupted only by Lo’s occasional moans of
pleasure. Self-pleasure.
“Do you
want to hear that I loved sucking you off?” she asked.
“You did?”
“Yessss,”
she said.
“Why?”
“I love
sucking cock. Any cock. Lots of cock.
I love helping guys out. I love
giving relief. Let me help you. Are you by your computer?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Pull up a pic of me if you haven’t already.”
“I, I, I,”
Robert stammered.
“You
already had it up, didn’t you?” accused Lo.
“I did,” he
admitted.
“Good. Which pic is it?”
“It’s of you
in your neon blue panties stroking your pussy lips.”
“You like
that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s
beautiful.”
“Well
that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
I’m stroking my wet, pink, pussy lips with my beautifully manicured
fingers, slowly sliding them up and down and in and out. Does that turn you on?”
“Yes.”
“Are you
stroking your cock?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, I want you to hang up the phone and take
pics of you stroking it to my pics. Make
sure my photo is in the frame so I know that I’m the one who is making you hard
and makes you cum. You will cum, won’t
you?”
“If you
want me to.”
“I do.”
“OK.”
“Do it and
send me the pics.”
“OK.”
“And
Robert.”
“Yes?”
“What am
I?”
“A dirty,
filthy slut.”
“That’s
right. Don’t forget it,” she said and
she hung up on him.
I was
cleaning myself off when she got the notification that a text was sent to
her. She opened it. There were three photos. One of Robert jackin’ it to her pics. One of him cumming. And one of the mess he made. Lo looked at them again and again and she
eventually came herself.
“Thanks,” I
said.
“For what?”
she said.
“For making
me cum,” I said.
“Oh, did I
do that?” she asked, sincerely unaware of her passive powers.
The next
morning, before Lo woke up, I was off to the airport, sad that we hadn’t
properly reconciled.
The
next time we saw him, at a fundraiser reception in an art museum, Lo affixed
herself to him. Arm-in-arm they strolled
the corridors, pausing in dimly lit corners.
It was a nighttime event and the university spared no expense and was
eager to show off its faculty to the wealthy alumni and other donors. Because of the book I published long ago on
art, I was one of the featured speakers.
After a brief hello exchanged with Robert, I was left to review my notes
and consult with the university president about the order of the program. However, every once in a while, I’d catch a
glimpse of Lo leading Robert about, taking delight in the whispers and scandal
that she was causing among our petty and gossipy colleagues. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t irk me a
little bit. It would have been a totally
different story if I could have been with them, observing, commenting, and
teased by Lola’s cuckolding up close.
As
it was, they disappeared out of my sight.
I only heard later, while horizontal with Lo in the darkness of our
bedroom, impaling her with my rock-hard rod, between her gasps and groans, what
happened.
“I
walked with him as he politely escorted me through the various galleries:
Impressionists, Expressionists, Cubists, and so on. At each one he attempted to explain to me
what I already knew, but I flattered him with my oos and ahs and reallys? – as
if he were telling me something new.”
“You’re
bad,” I said. “I bet you do that with me
too.”
“No,
Daddy, never.”
Her
lies are transparent.
She
continued, “I knew the museum very well, of course, and I eventually led him to
the contemporary art gallery. I asked
him if he liked contemporary art and he admitted he didn’t really understand
it.”
This
was a rather intellectual conversation for pillow talk. But I was willing to follow her lead.
She
said in her sultry, seduction voice:
When we got
to the contemporary, I brought him to see Richard Prince and his ‘Girlfriend’
series. He looked very confused and
asked, ‘How can this possibly be art?’
Richard Prince, “Girlfriend” closeup
I asked,
‘Don’t you find it beautiful? The artist
was so in love with his girlfriend that he chose to photograph her nude and put
her up in an art gallery for all to see.’
‘That’s
exploitation,’ he said.
‘Not if she
likes it,’ I said.
‘A good
feminist like you? – How could you like
it?’
‘How could
I like being photographed naked and put on display for all to see?’ I asked to
clarify his meaning.
‘I mean,
how could you think that she likes it or that a woman likes it or. . .’ he
stammered uncomfortably, ‘how could you like this,’ he said, indicating the large photograph.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘HH does the
same for me.’
‘What are
you talking about?’
‘He likes
to photograph me nude and then share it with the world.’
‘What?!’ he
asked, shocked.
I looked down at his crotch to see
if he was getting hard. I think he was.
‘It’s
called candaulism. It’s a kink. I’m surprised you don’t know of it – an
educated man like you,’ I said, gripping his bicep. ‘It comes from an ancient Greek story about
Candaules, the king of Lydia, who was so proud of his beautiful wife, he
arranged to allow his minister, Gyges, to see her naked.’
‘Is that
so?’ he said, as if he were only academically interested.
‘Yes. It turned out that the queen, Nyssia, was
aware of the spying eyes and, according to legend, in order to teach her
husband a lesson, summoned her husband to come to the bed and pleasure
her. Of course she knew that the figure
in the shadows was not her husband, but, unable to escape, Gyges obeyed the
command of the queen and, in the dim light, approached the bed. All the while Candaules was secretly watching
with a curious mixture of arousal and jealously. Gyges entered the bed and then entered the
queen. She said all sorts of salacious
things as they made love in order to drive the point of her lesson home, and
that she did, wounding the suffering king with her cries of passion. Finally, at the climactic moment, the king
could hold back no longer and he made himself known to both Nyssia and
Gyges. Drawing his royal sword, the king
made to slay the dutiful minister, but Gyges narrowly avoided the steel blade
and, removing it from the king’s hands, impaled the king with his own
sword. A tragic tale, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, yes
indeed. And it should serve as a
cautionary tale for HH.’
‘Oh, but
that is all ancient history,’ I said, waving my hand. ‘What HH and I do together is very fun. Its proper term is ‘compersion.’ That is, the delight of seeing one you love
pleasured by another. Would you like to
see?’ I asked, pulling out my phone.
‘Perhaps
later,’ he said just as we approached the Koons’ sculpture. ‘Dear Lord!’ he exclaimed as he saw the
porcelain rendering of Woman in Tub, ‘What
is this gallery?! The Museum of
Pornography?!’
Not Koons’ “Woman in a Tub,” but Lola in a Tub – the inspiration
‘Oh, don’t
be so rigid, and hardened in your ideas of beauty,’ I said to him as I patted
him on the chest. ‘This is a classic.’
Jeff Koons “Lady in a Tub”
‘Oh yeah,
right up there with the Mona Lisa,’ he said sarcastically.
Having my
phone out, I snapped a shot. ‘It should
be,’ I said. ‘You’re just priggish in
your stodgy ole professor way. Don’t be
such a prude.’
Art Appreciation
“I bet you
weren’t a prude, were you,” I said to Lo as I continued my steady rhythmic
forays in and out of her puss with my cock.
“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t
one.” she said.
They
returned to the courtyard of the museum where I was to give my talk and I
watched them sitting in the audience next to each other. Lo’s legs were crossed and she was proudly
displaying her beautifully shod foot. At
one point I saw them passing notes.
“What did
you write to him?” I asked her.
“I just
wrote that I found it incredibly sexy to see you up there at the podium in the
museum giving your talk.”
“Really?”
“True,
Daddy,” she said. “Do you like that?”
“I do.”
“And then I
wrote that I was getting too wet to sit still.”
“You
didn’t!”
“I did,
Daddy. That’s when I got up.”
I
remembered seeing her walk out on my speech.
The thought of the reason why was too much for the erogenous zone of my
brain to handle and I unleashed a torrent of my pent-up desire inside her.
“Oh Daddy,”
she said, surprised, “Stay in me while I tell you the next little part.”
“OK,” was
all I could mutter as I caught my breath.
I went to the Ladies Room and
quickly took care of my craving. When I
returned, I sat next to Robert and asked if I missed anything.
He said, ‘No, but I feel like I
missed something.’
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘What’s that?’
‘You,’ he said.
‘Me?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I missed you when you were gone and I’m
supremely curious as to where you went and what you went to do.’
‘Come with me,’ I said, ‘and I’ll
show you.’
We got up and I took him to the
Medieval room of the museum, and there, in the dim light, surrounded by the
muted reds and blues of the stained glass windows, I sat with him at a pew and
took out my phone to show him all the photos of me from the blog, most of them
of me masturbating.
‘Robert,’ I said, ‘Here we are in a
place of devotional art and you see all these beautiful images and the
illuminated manuscripts over there?’
Lola Down – 21st Century Devotional
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Well, this,’ I said, indicating the
images on my phone, ‘is HH’s devotional literature for me. This is the illuminated manuscript of the 21st
century. Sex is no longer sinful. Sex is spiritual. And I am a sex goddess.’
“How
extraordinarily pompous of you!” I said.
“You would have said the same,” she
retorted.
“You know me too well. But I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Rub off on me, Daddy! Rub off on me!” she pleaded as I was still
firmly sheathed in her dripping cunt.
“What happened next?” I asked as I
leaned into her, pressing my now tumescent cock deeper. She came and she came in massive orgasmic
waves. Clearly the memory of being the
object of worship was pleasing to her.
“Then he
took the phone and looked at it as he leaned toward me. Our lips touched and he held me tightly in
his arms as our tongues entwined. I saw
that, as he was kissing me, he was looking over my shoulder at the phone he
held in his hand, staring at my sexy photos.
I reached down and grabbed his cock and it was rock hard. His other hand reached down and felt my soft
leg all the way up to my panties. I
wanted so much more, but the event had just let out and we had to look
presentable.”
“That’s
when I found you with him walking over to me with that devilish grin on your
face.”
“She
has one boyfriend in Naples, another in Amsterdam, and then she toys with me.”
“Toys
with you?” Lo’s ears perked up.
Robert
had made an excellent meal for Lo and me even though we had dropped in on him
unexpectedly. He is a very generous and
hospitable man and he opened a bottle of wine for Lo as he and I enjoyed an
excellent bottle of Scotch. It was so good
and so smooth that, before we knew it, he and I were on our fourth already. It hit me all at once and I suddenly realized
that I was having difficulty seeing straight.
“We
Skype with each other once a week.”
“Ooooh,”
squealed Lo, “Skype sex.” Her tongue
slid over her front teeth.
Robert
blushed, “It’s not like that,” he protested.
“I’m
sure,” responded Lo.
“No,
really. Well, maybe once in a long
while.”
“I
knew it!”
“But
I meant no double entendre. I simply
meant that. . .”
“Do
you like to watch?” interrupted Lo.
“What?”
“Do
you like to watch, to watch her, Linda, when she toys with you?”
Robert
squirmed a little in his seat, uncomfortable.
He’s tremendously uptight and prudish, but he also thinks of himself as
enlightened and courageous, so he answered the question, “Well, yes.”
“Do
you reciprocate?”
“That’s
usually why she calls me on Skype. To. .
.”
“To
see you jack it?”
“If you wish to put it that
way, yes.”
“I
do like this gal. When can I meet her?”
“That’s
just the thing. She shuttles between
Italy, Holland, and London and I don’t think we’ll be together in person again
anytime soon.”
“She
can’t just puddle jump the pond and come over for a quicky?”
Robert
laughed at the suggestion.
“Boy,
you must be so hard-up,” said Lo seductively.
Robert
poured himself another whiskey and gestured to pour another for me. I covered the top of my glass to decline the
offer.
“I’m
sorry,” I said, “I’m going to lie down for a bit.” I got up, unsteadily, and found my way to the
guest bedroom. It was right off the hall
that went to the living room and so I heard snippets of their conversation from
bed.
“I
remember when I was between boyfriends,” Lo was saying, “not literally. I mean, after I graduated college and before
HH, I used to spend two or three nights a week at my friend Alyssa’s
apartment. She and I were the best of
friends back then. I had no romantic
designs on her, but we’d share a bed, both of us naked, holding each
other. She and I were both single and on
nights that we didn’t want to go home with a stranger, we’d take comfort in the
love we shared. After she fell asleep,
I’d lie there, wide awake, horny, and I’d touch myself silently, careful not to
wake her up with my strokes or my inevitably powerful orgasm. Now that’s what I do next to HH
sometimes. Like tonight, I’ll probably
have to do that since he drank too much.”
Hearing
her say that brought a smile to my lips as my mind drifted off on
whiskey-saturated clouds. I dozed for I
don’t know how long before I was roused from my slumbers by the sound of Lo’s
voice saying, “Are you sure you don’t want some company?” She was just entering my room and, as I
opened my eyes, I saw Robert’s shadow in the hallway.
“I’ve
had too much to drink. I’m going to feel
like shit in the morning. Thank you,
Lo,” he said politely.
“Well,
won’t you at least tuck me in?” she asked.
I saw her silhouetted against the hall light filling the doorway. She slowly removed her blouse, dropped her
jeans, undid her bra and took it off, and then slid out of her panties. I felt her naked body sit on the edge of the
bed and then lift up her legs on top of the covers under which I was
lying. Her legs spread and her hand
stroked between them.
Robert
entered the room timidly. He bent down
to offer Lo a kiss goodnight. She pulled
his arm and gently guided him into the bed.
“There’s room enough for all three of us,” she said.
He
got into the queen-size bed. I heard Lo
kiss him and before very long I heard him sleeping. I was about to drift off again myself when I
felt and saw Lo caressing herself, there, naked, between the two of us.
After
a restless night of beautiful dreams, I awoke to find Lo next to me, naked, and
Robert next to her, fully clothed. She
was nestled up to his body with her right hand on his crotch. I was holding her – a big spoon to her little
spoon – caressing her breasts.
I
carefully extricated myself from the scene and snuck into the kitchen to make
coffee. I found my phone in my pocket
and on it was a text from Lo. It was
sent only a few hours earlier: “Can I fuck Robert? Please!”
I texted her back: “Good morning, my love.
I was hard-up all night – from the moment you got into the bed next to
me to the moment I woke up next to you, caressing your breasts and your sweet
ass. Your warm, soft, luscious, naked
body looks lovely in the morning light.
In my dreams a word came to mind for you – NILF: Nymph I’d Like to
Fuck. Yes, that’s you.
By all means, feel free to get
Robert up! You have my permission to
rouse him. Show him what a NILF you
are.”
I
was sitting, enjoying a warm cup of coffee when Lo sauntered into the living
room wearing one of Robert’s dress shirts, covering her sexy body down to the
middle of her thighs. She said
nothing. She just cozied up to me on the
couch.
“How
are you, sweetheart?”
“I
missed you, Daddy.”
“What
about Robert?”
“Out
like a light.”
“And
you?”
She
nestled her face into my chest and said something inaudible.
“What?”
She
looked up at me and repeated it in a whisper, “I need to get fucked.”
“By
me or him?” I asked, adding after, “Or
both?”
“Preferably
both, but I’ll take what I can get.”
I
stood up and dropped my trousers. She
bent over the side of the couch and I entered her from behind. She held herself in place with her left hand
and rubbed herself between her legs with her right. It took all of 90 seconds before she came the
first time, audibly. It was about
another minute and a half before she came a second time, even louder. The third time took about five minutes and it
was deafening.
I
pulled out and said, “You’re just trying to wake him up, aren’t you?”
“Am
I a good NILF or bad?”
“It
doesn’t matter, dear.”
“Why
not?” she asked, puzzled.
“Because
you’re my NIFL and I love you.”
She
got on her knees and sucked me off until I came in her mouth and then she got
up and we made breakfast together. The
aroma of the eggs and toast must have woken Robert, because he finally emerged
from the bedroom holding his head.
“Owe!”
he lamented, “Aspirin!”
“Here,”
said Lo, helping him to sit down at the table.
“Have some of this,” she said as she poured him some orange juice and
went into the bathroom to get the aspirin.
She came back and nursed him.
“That’s
my shirt,” said Robert after a moment.
Daddy’s shirt
“Oh,
sorry,” said Lo. “Do you want it back?”
she asked and made as if to unbutton it.
“No,”
said Robert, “I just realized – it looks much better on you.”
We
had breakfast together and then Lo removed the shirt and handed it back to
Robert. “I’m just going to change and
then we’ll be going,” she said, standing naked before him.
Robert
was speechless.
“Thanks
for the hospitality. But next time, try
not to drink so much,” she said before disappearing into the bedroom.
“Do
you remember what happened last night?” asked Robert of me.
“Yes,”
I said.
“Do
you mind sharing?”
“No,” I said, “but when I share, it is only good manners to stay sober enough to be up for it.”
[Editor’s note, this story involves Dr. Robert Smith. For previous stories that include him, click on the links to: Well Laid, Hey Good Lookin’, Pyro, Happy as a Clam, Good Night, My Whore, and Attention Slut. There’s no need to read those stories in that order for this story, but if you are interested in the long flirtation between Lo and Dr. Robert Smith, you can get the backstory in those posts.]
Recently
our financial situation improved. In no
small part, Lo’s getting a full-time job has certainly contributed to our
recovering fiscal health. Now that we
aren’t always scraping by to pay the rent or put food on the table, we actually
have a little bit of money that we can set aside for a rainy day. So, trying to be the responsible adults we
pretend to be, we created a joint savings account. I know, nothing says sexy like money in the
bank. Walking home from the bank,
feeling a sense of accomplishment, I said to Lo, “We’ll call our account ‘The
Community Chest.’”
“Community
Chest! – That’s what they called me in college!” she blurted out with a
smile.
I thought she was
joking and said as much.
“No,” she said,
“that’s really what they called me.
There’s a long story there that I’ll tell you when we get home,” she
said, grabbing hold of my hand and pressing her palm into mine.
When we got home,
I started to make myself a sandwich in the kitchen. “So,” I said to her, “what’s the story from
college?”
“What story?” Lo
asked, playing dumb. She loves to tease
me and see that she has succeeded in piquing my interest.
“You know what
story,” I said, taking out the pickles, “the ‘Community Chest’ story.”
She reached down and
slid her hands from her waist up and under her bust, pushing upwards so that
her cleavage bulged out of the neckline of her black tank top. “You like, Daddy?”
“Yes,” I said,
“but I want to hear the story.”
“Kiss them,” she
instructed.
I wagged my pickle
at her (literally, no pun), and said, “Look here, Lo, if you’re trying to get
me to hop in the sack with you and forego this lovely lunch I’ve just made,
you’re in for some disappointment.”
“I’ll be your
lunch,” she said, standing up, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the
kitchen floor. She stood in her little
black lace panties and her black boots.
“Lola,” I said
plaintively.
“You know,” she
paused and thought and then said, “I’m hungry too.” She sauntered over to the fridge like a stripper
on the stage. She bent over, putting her
ass in the air, standing on her tiptoes, and took a long look at the
contents. “I know what I want to eat,”
she said, turning and walking toward me.
What is there to eat?
“Lo. Lo, I see that look in your eye. Lo.”
It was no use. She dropped to her knees on the kitchen
floor. She undid my belt, unbuttoned and
unzipped my jeans, pulled them down, pulled out my hard cock and filled her
mouth with meat.
Snack
“Fuck my face,”
she asked, looking up at me. “Put your
hands here,” she said, moving my hands to her head, “and push me, use me, fuck
my mouth.” I followed instructions. “Harder, Daddy!” she said before I forced her
back on my rod. I had passed the point
of no return and soon I was filling her up as she ravenously swallowed all I
gave her. It all happened in the matter
of a few moments. Then she got up, took
my plate with the sandwich that I had so carefully prepared, and sat at the
table, taking a big bite of it.
“Mmmmmm,” she said, “can I have a glass of seltzer to go with
this?”
“Lo! That was my
sandwich!” I rebuked as I pulled up my jeans.
“I just wanted a
bite. Here you have it.”
“No, it’s yours,”
I said dejectedly as I got her a drink.
“No, I feel
bad. Have half.”
“Fine.” I sat across from her and we ate. “Now,
tell me the story.”
“Well,” she began,
chewing, “you remember Ryan?”
“No, I don’t
remember Ryan.”
“Ryan, the boy
from college.”
“I’m going to need
a little more to go on than that. There
were a lot of boys from college.”
“I told you about
how one night after watching a movie in a friend’s dorm, he and I crashed there
on the sectional couch.”
“I vaguely recall
that.”
“You just want me
to tell you again.”
“Indulge me.”
“Well, we got to
talking in hushed tones about sex.”
“And who initiated
that topic?” I asked sarcastically.
“He was curious
about my masturbatory practices,” she said, ignoring my question. “I told him that I jill it once a day – at
least.”
“Oh yes, I
remember that story now.”
“Well, there’s
more to it than that. Come to the bedroom
and I’ll tell you the rest.”
I followed her
sexy ass to the bedroom, got naked, and climbed into bed with her.
She got on her
back and spread her legs. Putting her
hand down there, under the covers, she continued in breathy tones. “I was masturbating under the covers, like I
am now, as I talked to him in the dark.
I imagined that he was masturbating too.
I asked him about his girlfriend – someone I didn’t really know. He said that he wasn’t too happy with her and
I asked him why he didn’t break up with her.
He said, ‘because she gives really good blowjobs.’ I said, ‘Oh yeah? Tell me how you like it.’ He told me about what she does, adding, ‘but
I don’t think she really enjoys it.’”
Lo was pulling on
her nipples now and squirming in the sheets.
“I was sad to hear
that.”
“I’m sure you were
broken up about it,” I added full of sarcasm.
“I told him, ‘You
should try getting a blowjob from someone who really enjoys it.’”
“Did you give him
one?”
“I really really
wanted to.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“But he was too shy.”
“Too shy?!”
“Or
something. Maybe he felt bad cause of
the girlfriend. Whatever the reason, I
didn’t get to give it to him. I just
masturbated till I came. After that
night, there were many nights when I’d be in my dorm, chatting on Facebook, and
he’d pop up and quickly turn the chat into something sexual.”
“So you had
virtual sex with him?”
“You could say
that.”
“But that still
doesn’t explain how you got the nickname.”
“I’m getting
there. Give me a minute,” she said as
she climaxed.
I
waited for the waves of pleasure to subside.
She
flipped over and lifted her ass up.
“Fuck me, Daddy, and I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”
“Lo,
you just blew me in the kitchen.”
“Come
on! You can do better than that. Can’t you get it up again?”
Her
belittling comments didn’t help the situation.
“Get
behind me and fuck me,” she demanded.
I
got behind her, but I wasn’t hard. She
reached under the bed and passed me her glass dildo. “Use this for now,” she instructed. I slid the smooth, hefty sculpture into her
slippery puss and she continued talking in spurts.
“He
was a gamer and I think he told his nerdy friends about me. Soon they were inviting me over their dorm
rooms to play with them. They each
wanted me to jiggle their joysticks.”
“I
bet they did.”
“They
were all computer geeks and none of them had much sexual experience. Anyhow, I didn’t actually do anything with
them.”
“Nothing?”
I asked in disbelief.
“Not
much, but they made up stories about me.
They each claimed that they fucked me and so they began calling me the
community chest, bragging that they each made a deposit.”
“And
you let them get away with that?”
“Let
them, I got off on it.”
All
this time I was almost mechanically pushing and pulling the glass object in and
out of her puss as she was backing up and pulling forward on her hands and
knees. Now she said, “Harder,
Daddy. Pay attention to what you’re
doing!”
I
tried to give more attention to her puss, but I had more questions for
her. “So,” I asked, “what did you do with them?”
“Well,”
she said, ramping up again, “like I said, they didn’t have much sexual
experience and when I did try to blow one of them he. . .” she broke off and
began her howling orgasm.
I
pulled the dildo out from her and she squirted, involuntarily, all over the
sheets. She thrust her hands between her
legs, trying to stop the sprinkler, and she exclaimed, “Wow! I feel like a fucking Slip-n-Slide!”
“You’re
more fun,” I said.
Collapsing
in the bed when she was done, I brought a towel over and applied it between her
legs and to the sheets. I asked her
again, “What happened?”
“I
squirted,” she said, annoyed at my ignorance.
“No, silly. I mean, what happened with the geek?”
“Oh, well, I was
on my knees and I unzipped his pants, but when I opened up his fly, I saw that
he had already cum. I said to him, ‘Let
me blow you. You can take my tits out of
my top and suck on them,’ but he was so embarrassed that he just zipped up and
left.”
“And
the thought of that made you cum just now?” I asked.
“No,”
she said, “the thought of making all of his friends cum the night that I went
over there to play video games and they watched me finger myself – that made me cum.”
“Tell
me that story.”
“Another
time, Daddio, when I actually have a shot of getting fucked by you,” she said,
closing up shop for the day.
“What’s there to eat in the fridge?” I call to her
through the bathroom door. I had just
gotten home from work and I was famished.
“Nothing,” she calls back as I hear the squeak of her
opening the valves to take a shower.
“Nothing?! I
saw a cucumber in the bottom right drawer.”
“Oh, that’s not for eatin’,” she says. “Come to think of it, will you bring it to me
darling?”
Good grief. I
get the green gourd from the fridge for her and a cold beer for me. I pass her the vegetable when she extends her
hand through the narrow opening of the door.
“Can’t I see you?” I ask.
“No.”
“You do know that I’ve seen you naked before? Most of the internet has seen you naked
before. Probably most of our neighbors
have seen you naked before.”
“I have my shower cap on.”
“Oh, well then.”
The door shuts.
I sit down to read and sip my beer and await her exit from the
bathroom. And wait. And wait.
After her repeated cries to God and profanities that I imagine were
directed at her pleasure-bearing plant, I hear the waterspout squeak off.
Finally she emerges.
Lo is very wet
I whistle at her.
“You look half as good in your clothes as you do out of them.”
“That’s insulting!”
“Would you prefer the opposite: You look twice as good
in your clothes as you do out of them?”
“How about you just say I look fabulous.”
“You look fabulous, darling. And delicious. I had no dinner. Can I please eat you from bottom to top?”
“Oh, Daddy, I have to catch my breath,” she says,
lying naked on the bed next to me.
“You do that and I’ll caress your snatch with my
tongue.”
She puts her laptop over her shaved triangle and opens
it up.
“Darling,” I ask, “what are you doing now?”
“Just checking some email and sprucing up some social
media accounts.”
Dejected, I get up off the bed.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking off my work clothes and. . .”
“Getting naked?” she asks, licking her lips.
“If that would please you.”
“Will you lie next to me?”
“As you wish,” I say, somewhat sarcastically.
I sit next to her, reading my book as she scrolls
through pages with her right hand. Her
left hand is resting on my cock. It
grows in her palm. I put down my book
and turn on my side, rhythmically fucking her fist. Unconsciously, she allows it, but doesn’t
enthusiastically respond to it. She’s
engrossed in whatever it is she’s reading.
After a couple of moments, I look at what is on her
screen. It’s a page of nearly naked
women.
Just as I was enjoying seeing her in the naked flesh
next to me, and also her pixilated portrait resting just above her pink vulva
on her laptop computer, she scrolls away from the page. And, to make matters worse, she removes her
hand from my hard rod.
“Now what are you doing?” I ask.
“It’s well known that lists create
web traffic and a fan asked me to list six facts about my body.”
“Clickbait,” I respond.
“You can call it that,” she says,
but I think I’m the real bait.
Clitbait, you might say.” She
strokes her bean under the computer as she says it.
She returns her hand to the keyboard
and writes:
Six Facts About My Body:
It is an instrument of pleasure.
It is a canvass for cum.
It inspires creativity.
It drives people crazy.
It drives me crazy.
I love it.
“Not bad,” I say.
She ignores my compliment because now she is engaged in
answering emails.
One guy asks, “Who are you?”
“Cum and find out,” writes Lo, followed by, “Wait, reverse
that.”
Another guy sends a dick
pic. Lola tells him that if he is going
to do that, he has to send one with her photo in the frame. He replies, “I don’t usually send dick pics.”
“I bet you say that to all the
sluts,” she replies snidely.
I can see that she is getting excited. Her right hand moves to her chest and she
pulls at her nipples, making them erect.
“Looks like you’re ready to give
some pointers,” I say.
Another fan read the story, “Divine Destinies,” about Lo’s immaculately pure pink posterior flower. He wrote to Lo requesting some steamy chat, adding that, “I love to talk about dirty things.”
Lo, taking offense at this, replies,
“Are you suggesting that the pinnacle of my success is ‘dirty’?”
“Lo,” I say, “turn over and I’ll
take a pic of my tongue deeply penetrating your perineum and we’ll show him how
you’re more beautiful than Charlene and Mr. Clean.”
She chuckles and asks, “How the hell
do you know that song?”
“My brain isn’t as old as my body.”
“If by that mean you mean that
you’re immature, then you’re right.”
“Roll over.”
She closes her laptop and I think I’m in luck, but
then she takes out her phone. She does
turn onto her tum and begins going through photos from fans. “I just need a little something to wet my
whistle, if you know what I mean,” she says, as she puts her right hand down
between her pussy lips and strokes, then, using that natural lubricant, moves
to her porn star.
She passes me the phone and says, “Look what I found
in my in-box!”
I, looking at both her boxes intently at that moment,
take the phone from her.
“Read it aloud,” she says, “I’m all ears. . . and
vagina.”
I see a long email from a fan, a woman named “Jen X.” It reads:
As I read the lusty letter, Lo is
having finger fun time between her legs and her feet are working in tandem to
stroke my cock. The words are so poetic
and prurient that I very nearly cum. Lo
can feel it and she turns and says, over her shoulder, “I just got out of the
shower. I didn’t wash my hair and I
don’t intend to today. If you cum, don’t
cum in my hair.”
“Do
you think Audrey Hepburn ever said that to Gregory Peck?”
“Look,
I aim to please, so please be sure to aim.”
Just
as she says it, I take aim and hit my mark, right between her shoulder
blades.
Painting on Canvas
After
I recoup, I get up and go to the bathroom to clean myself off. There, on the sink, is her giant
cucumber. “Do you think this is still ok
to eat?” I call to Lo.
“What,
your cock?”
“Well
that too, but I was referring to your veggie vagina filler.”
“Oh,
I’m not done with it yet. Toss it here.”
I
do so and I also return to the bedroom to get dressed.
“Where
do you think you’re going?” she asks as she stuffs herself full of the jolly
green giant.
How about this?
“To
the store to get something for dinner.
Do you want anything?”
“How
about an eggplant. This is not nearly
enough to feed me.”
You
know, dear reader, not everything between Lola and me is hotwife, cuckold,
chronic masturbation, fetish, bukkake, squirting, spanking, MILF lust,
sadomasochistic, bestiality, giant dildo, public fucking, anal massage,
strap-on, nymphet, perfect vulva, high heels porn, cockfest, ejaculation,
climaxing crazy sex, lesbian sex machine, leaking pussy, ass fingering,
self-pleasuring, jilling-off, Ben Wa Balls, thongs, giant cock, swollen vulva,
candid cleavage, strippers, erotic boudoir, summer skirts, ass pounding, public
pussy, sapphic lovers, sexy volleyball, legs spread, open crotch, love juice, naked
beach volleyball, kneeling rosary beads, orgasm face, MILF parties, babysitter
sex, men jerking off, nude art classes, wet panties, vibrators, leashes, short
shorts, foot fetish, erotic indulgence, nympho in heat, gangbang, clit
stroking, protruding nipples, exhibitionist teachers, negligee nympho, fisting,
cunnilingus, wild poetry and naked reading, sucking cocks, bare mons pubis,
tantric solo sessions, and horse cocks.
(OK, I may have developed that list from the search terms people have
used to find the blog.)
Sometimes,
my voyeuristic companion, Lola and I just simply engage in wordless, intimate
erotic lovemaking. Is that so hard to
believe?
Take
for instance the other night. It was a
Tuesday or a Wednesday. There was
nothing particularly special about it.
We may have watched a movie or a couple of short comedies. We grew tired of lying on the couch
decompressing from our busy workday and went to bed. The usual: brushing teeth, remove clothes,
hop under covers.
I
was tired. She was tired. I thought nothing would happen, but then she
reached over and grabbed my package under the sheets and fondled until she
achieved the desired result. She spread
her legs, slapped her pussy twice, and said, “I’m open for business.”
I
climbed on top of her and slowly slid the seat of my desire inside. She squeezed her breasts with her hands and
said, “Suck my nipples, Daddy.”
I
complied.
She
moved her right hand down to her crotch and began stroking her clit in slow, vertical
movements. I could feel the tip of her
index finger on the base of my shaft. I
could feel the knuckle in her finger up against my pelvis. I could feel her wrist bent just under my
bellybutton each time I thrust.
She
slowly moved from her clit into her chamber.
Her finger was noodling up the length of my rod, trying to make its way
to her G-spot. I felt her getting
deeper, crowding me for space. Then she
inserted her middle finger as well. The
two fingers worked in tandem. I could
feel the knuckles on the top of my cock and the fingertips at the tip of my
cock. She had reached the spot. She masturbated as I fucked.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“There,”
she said, as if to me, but really as if to say, “Yes, my fingers, there is the
goal of your journey.”
She
came, a quiet, deep moaning orgasm. Her
pussy clenched then loosened. She
inserted the rest of her fingers of her right hand to make up for the slack. Then she grabbed the other side of her pussy
with her left hand and I could feel all eight fingertips like some sort of sea
anemone wiggling and wriggling inside her, flowing with the waves. She pulled the side walls of her cunt apart
with her hands so wide that I no longer felt anything.
“Daddy,
do you think that if I spread myself like this as a gang of men surrounded me,
that each one of them could go in me, cum, and then let the next one in?”
Lo’s Fantasy
It
was a bizarre question. It didn’t quite
make sense, but since when does sex make sense?
The imagery was vivid enough for me to do just that – cum inside her
gaping hole.
“I
love you, Daddy,” she said.
“And
I’m balls-deep in love with you.”
OK,
so I lied. I don’t know if we ever
actually do have wordless, intimate erotic lovemaking. But, so what?
I like it and so does she.
“Fuck! I hope that never happens again!” she blurted
out as she entered the house.
I
had been quietly sitting on the couch, perched in my usual spot, writing, when
she burst in with a flare for the dramatic.
“What
happened?” I inquired, merely raising an eyebrow.
“Get
in the bedroom and I’ll tell you.”
That
can only mean one thing.
I
saved my work, closed my laptop, and followed her to the bedroom. By the time I got there she was already
naked, her legs spread wide, her right hand slapping her pussy with a small
splash.
“What
are you waiting for?” she asked impatiently.
“I
came as fast as I could,” I said as I began removing my clothes.
“Well,
don’t cum as fast as you can now if you want to hear what I have to tell you.”
I
slid into her already lubricated puss and she let out a gasp of relief.
“Am
I wet, Daddy?” she asked.
“A
juice box,” I said. “What is going on?”
She
didn’t speak immediately. She was
enjoying the ride. Her hands had moved
to her sides and she was pulling her ass cheeks, spreading herself as wide as
she could go.
“Can
you feel me?” she asked.
“Almost
not at all. Like fucking a bathtub full
of warm water.”
That
was enough to bring her to a mild squirting orgasm as her puss gently gurgled,
soaking me, the bed, and her ass.
“Harder,
Daddy. Faster.”
“If
you tell me what’s going on, I’ll fuck you like a jackhammer.”
I
sped up my rhythm and increased my force.
Lola’s Yoga Pants
“That’s
it,” she said, her eyes shut. “I’m so
wet. So fucking wet.”
“I
can tell,” I said, “but not for me I bet.”
“I
was at the gym,” she began, as the scene played out before her shut eyes, “in
my grey yoga pants.” She paused.
“Yes,”
I said, bringing her back to the here-and-now.
“And
I was on the adductor machine, working on my inner thighs when I noticed the
guy in front of me. He was doing pull
ups directly in my line of sight.
Unconsciously I was watching his body go up and down while I was working
my legs. Then I noticed that I was
watching him – his bulging biceps, the ripples of his shoulders, his broad
chest. His shirt was short, so I could
see his abs, and then I looked a little lower and saw just how huge his cock
was. Every time he went up and down, I
was spreading and then clenching my legs together. I became self-conscious of what I was doing
and looked up to see if he noticed me.
Our eyes met for a moment and then. . .”
She
climaxed again; this time much harder than before.
When
she regained her composure, I asked, “And then what happened.”
“Daddy,
it’s too embarrassing!”
“What?”
“As
I was spreading my legs, completely involuntarily and without warning I. . .”
she trailed off.
“You
what?”
“I
came. I squirted. I felt myself drenching my yoga pants until
they were dripping. And he saw it
all! I immediately closed my legs
together and pretended to take a sip from my water bottle and somehow made it
look like I had spilled it on my lap. I
ran out of there as fast as I could! Oh
my God! I can never go back there
again!!!”
As
she told me this, I had slowed and almost stopped thrusting, I was so engrossed
in her story. But then she rebuked
me. “Don’t stop. Come on.
Fuck me. Use me. Fill me up.”
“Lo,”
I said apologetically, “I can’t even feel you, you’re so wet.”
“Forget
it!” she commanded, angry at me.
She
pulled away so I slid out of her. She reached
under the bed, grabbed her horse-cock dildo and said, “You can watch, if you
want, but I need something that’s going to really fill me up.”
She
stuck it to the headboard of the bed and backed into it as I was on my knees in
front of her, stroking my cock.
“Are
you thinking of him?” I asked as she thrusted back into the cock vigorously
with her eyes closed.
“Yes,”
she said honestly.
“You
think he’d fill you like that?”
“Yes,”
she said.
I
could see that I may have been distracting her from whatever fantasy was
playing out in her mind, so I continued with my masturbatory movements in silence
as I watched her tits hang down and rock back and forth, thinking about what
that guy must have thought of her in the gym.
Suddenly I came, shooting my pent-up love all over her face. It was a surprise to her because her eyes
were still shut. When she realized what
I had done, it sent her into a violent hysterical paroxysm, the likes of which
I had not seen in a very long time.
Her
arms spread forward and her body bowed down making a “Downward Dog” movement as
her cunt clenched the long, thick cock behind her.
When
she regained consciousness, she said, “Maybe I’m just not made for city
life. Maybe I’m meant to keep in shape
by working on the farm.”
A
July vacation at a beach house for a week can be the perfect antidote to all of
your problems. Unless that vacation is a
family reunion and the beach house is for thirty people. And among those thirty people are married
dads in their forties and fifties who are in good shape. And your girlfriend is Lo. Then, you might have ninety-nine problems,
but Lo is the only one you have to really worry about.
That
was the case this week. Every seven
years or so my extended family decides that we should make a pilgrimage from
all the corners of the globe, rent one enormous house on the beach with enough
bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate us all, and stay under one roof for seven
days straight. We have been doing this
for a few decades now, but we hadn’t had one of these since I started dating
Lola.
She
hadn’t met most of my family – only heard about them through various stories I
told her and, to be fair, with thirty of them, I doubt that she really could
tell one from the other without having met them in person. But this week, right in the middle of July,
we were all going to be up-close and personal with each other. Foolishly, I hadn’t thought of warning her
prior to our departure. This was my
family. Did I need to warn her? Apparently so.
You
see, if I do say so myself, I come from a very good looking family. My brothers and sisters and my cousins have
certain family features in common – features that drive Lo wild. I’d even venture to say that, of the lot of
us, I am probably the least physically attractive. My male relatives all have strong-cut jaws,
expressive eyes, and the classic broad shoulder tapering to a thin waist. They are very health conscious, for many of
them were athletes even through college.
My female relatives share many of the same good genes that have
preserved their looks into midlife. And
they are married to rather attractive spouses.
Throw
into this mix of middle-age men – all walking around topless, biking, kayaking,
swimming, cooking, and being dads to their respective kids – a twenty something
nymphomaniac with daddy issues wearing a skimpy bikini and you have just
brought all sorts of wrath down upon your head.
Such was my lot for a week.
It
began innocently enough. We were on the
beach with a few of my cousins. The sun
was blazing and the waves were rough and tumble. We had our boogie boards with us and, after a
beer, Lo said she wanted to ride the waves with me. We grabbed the boards and went into the
refreshing water, waded out past the crashing waves and waited for the right
moment. As we were out there, Lo turned
to me and said, “Daddio, I’m so wet!”
“We’re
in the ocean, Lo. Of course you’re wet,”
I replied.
“I
don’t mean like that,” she said with a devilish grin.
Before
I could respond, a wave came and soon she and I were soaring towards the shore
atop the white crest of the surf.
Conditions were just right for multiple sorties. She looked happy, like a little girl. I had never seen her see so happy. She was grinning from ear-to-ear. What I didn’t realize, since I was next to
her for most of the wet-n-wild rides, was that each and every time we caught a
wave and were carried in atop the undulating surge, Lo’s bikini top would be
pushed downward and, each and every time she stood up from the excursion, her
breasts were popping out, wet and glistening in the sun for all my cousins to
see.
I
only found out about this later, when, back in the house, she got naked in the
bathroom with me to take a shower. “Are
you mad, Daddy?” she asked.
“Why
would I be mad?” I said as I saw her perfectly tanned body before me.
“Because
of my ‘accidents’ at the beach.”
“What
accidents?” I asked, naively.
Then
she told me about her struggles with keeping her top on her tits.
We
got in the shower together and washed each other down with body-soap. It was one of those large shower/hot tubs
that had a comfortable seat to sit. I
told Lo to sit down below me and spread her legs. She did so, mistakenly thinking that I was
going to put my cock in her mouth. She
opened up to receive me, but, instead, I took aim and let lose, releasing the
golden stream formed from the many beers I had had on the beach. She relished in the warm stream I doused her
in, covering her tits and tum, puss and feet.
When I was good and done, she pulled my hand down and reversed positions
with me and, putting one foot up on the ledge, she took aim and allowed me to
get it just as good as I gave it.
Then
she got down on her knees on the floor of the shower and took my hard cock in
her mouth, fondling my balls with her right hand as her left rested on my
knee. Her long, wet, dark hair bobbed up
and down under the stream of the shower.
She wanted me to cum, that was clear.
She worked hard to earn my ejaculatory appreciation, but I denied her
the satisfaction of completion. Before
she got lockjaw, we got out of the shower and dried off.
She bent over the
bed, her ass beckoning me. It was my
turn to get on my knees and worship her tumescent pussy lips with my
tongue. She tasted sweet and I wanted
more. I buried the tip of my tongue as
deep as it would go in her cunt and then in her ass and back again and
again. She came multiple times, her cum
dripping down the sides of my mouth and saturating my beard as it streamed down
my neck onto my chest. I delighted in
making her so wet. Due to the cramped
living quarters, she had to bite her lower lip and swallow her orgasmic
screams. She buried her head in the
pillow to moan and groan.
At some point I
heard the sound of a radio playing from the pool area outside our window. AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” was narrating
the scene.
She was a fast
machine,
She kept her motor
clean
They sang as I
licked the smooth mons pubis of Lo from behind.
She could take it no longer and she crawled forward on the bed like a
wounded soldier out of the heat of battle.
She rolled over, exhausted already, and spread her listless legs.
She was the best
damn woman that I’d ever seen.
I slid in her
pussy with my aching rod and, honestly, I couldn’t feel a thing. Just wet.
So wet. At the very instant of my
shaft lodging deep inside her, she came in waves – waves like those of the
ocean that we were riding just a little while earlier. After her quick climax, she was suddenly
filled with new energy. She rolled me
over onto my back and slid her wet slit down the length of my solid pole,
kneeling on top of me as she pulled and pinched her nipples. I grabber by her hips and rocked her forward
and back, slishing and sliding over my hips.
She had a certain
size,
Telling me no
lies,
Knocking me out
with those American thighs.
She came
again. Again, all I could feel was
wetness cascading down upon me.
She dropped her
head down to bite on my neck and then she slid off of my rod slowly as her
tongue slid down my chest, over my abs, eventually resting at my cock. She took it all in her mouth and down the
back of her throat.
Taking more than
her share,
She had me
fighting for air,
She told me to
cum, but I was already there.
I filled her with
my pent-up power. But she wasn’t done –
no, not by a longshot.
She wanted no
applause,
Just another
course,
Made a meal out of
me,
And came back for more.
Had to cool me
down
To
take another round,
Now
I’m back in the ring
To
take another swing!
She
licked and sucked, bobbed up and down, and opened wide for my balls –
everything and anything she could do to get me back up and hard again. When she finally succeeded, she lowered
herself slowly on me once more and grabbed me, letting her nipples gently touch
mine as she let her body become enfolded in mine. I wrapped my arms around her and held her
tight.
Shower Time
From her state of
delirium, she began whispering in my ear.
“You know,” she
said in a hushed tone, “I think your family likes me.”
“I’m sure they
do,” I said.
“I mean,
especially your brothers. They really
like me.”
“I think they
really liked what they saw.”
“And I liked what
I saw.”
“What was that?” I
asked as I felt her excitement increasing with the taboo things coming out of
her mouth. I slowly moved my hands from
her back to her thighs, to her ass cheeks, and then I pulled them, spread them,
and placed my index finger on her special spot.
“They’re so
built,” she said enthusiastically, “so mature.”
“You mean old.”
“Not old.”
“Older than me.”
“Yeah, but in such
good shape.”
“I see,” I said,
knowing where she was going. . . and liking it.
“And so big.”
“Big?” I asked as
I entered her ass with my finger.
“Their cocks. Their balls.
Wearing a Speedo. . .”
She couldn’t
finish her thought. She was cumming and
cumming harder than any of the previous times.
My finger was deep inside her and I could feel her clenching up on it
and releasing multiple times.
When she was done,
all orgasms finally brought to fruition and her body exhausted, she said to me,
“That last orgasm, it felt just like I was riding that boogie board. It felt like I was riding that wave, topless,
the sea carrying me, lifting me, thrilling me, covering me with spume and salt
and sun.”
“Did you cum when
you were out there?”
“I think I might
have, a little bit.”
“You really are a
nymph, fucked by Poseidon himself.”
We
were out on a double date with Mark and Stephanie. Despite, or perhaps because of, Lo’s slutty
ways, especially around Mark, they invited us out again after the beach
experience. They had hired a sitter for
their kids and this time it was just the four of us at a local restaurant. Because it was so crowded that Friday night,
we took the first table we could get – a high-top in the bar area.
Lo
was wearing her sexy little black skirt and heels with a neon blue blouse that
had one too many buttons undone, revealing her cleavage and part of her lace
bra. She was sitting kitty-corner to
Mark, and when she laughed, she would put her hand on his forearm, his knee, or
touch his bicep. She did this in a
friendly, yet flirtatious way.
After
the day at the beach with them, there was no way they would be surprised by
this. I was wondering to myself if they
were actually interested in propositioning Lo, or both me and Lo, but were too
inhibited to come out and say it.
If
Lo was trying to get me jealous with her fawning over Mark, she was doing a
good job of it. Usually I’m not the
jealous type – especially not with a hotwife like Lo. But Mark was too perfect. He was smart – a teacher in fact – and
handsome, he worked out at the gym and was in tip-top shape, he had a perfect
smile, and he was about four inches taller than I. As if that wasn’t enough, Lo was perpetually
reminding me of how large his cock is, as she ascertained through his pants and
his bathing suit. If he had any flaws
that made his wife not want all that every night, I was unaware of them. To make matters worse, Lo kept on inquiring
of him about his personal habits. “How
do you stay so fit? How do you keep in
such great shape?” she asked, as she rubbed her hand down from his broad shoulder
to his elbow.
He,
for his part, was lapping it up. He went
on and on about his workout routine as Lo licked her lips just imagining
it.
What
Stephanie felt or thought during this, I don’t know, but in order to avoid any
bad feelings, I inquired of Stephanie how her work was going and how the kids
were doing. It was boring polite dinner
talk. I really wanted to blurt out and
ask her, “What do you think of my little slut making moves on your hunky
husband?”
However,
all this flirtatious frivolity came to a screeching halt when Julie approached
our table. Julie is a woman who moved to
our neighborhood recently and has earned the ire of Lo. She is just about Lo’s age with a teenage
son, which means that she must have been pregnant when she was about 16. She’s single and she gives Lo a run for her
money. She’s tall and has an All-American
look about her that says she’s nothing but innocent sweets and smells of apple
pie. She uses this to her advantage in
order to charm every guy she meets. She
hasn’t spoken more than the casual hello to Lo (or any other woman in the
neighborhood), but will go out of her way to chat up any of the men on our
block.
How Lo Pictures Mark out to eat with Stephanie
Julie
happened into the restaurant alone, but I doubt she planned to leave it that
way. Seeing us – or rather, seeing me –
she approached and gave me a warm hug hello with a kiss on the cheek. To the other three, she merely waived and
flashed her sparkling whites at them. I
felt Lo kick me hard in the shin under the table. I was glad of it. After all the torment she had given me thus
far that evening, it was my chance to return the favor.
Though
Julie was only going to say hi, I asked what brought her to that restaurant
that night. She said that her son was at
a sleepover and that she just felt like getting out. Much to Lo’s silent consternation, I insisted
that Julie join us and get to know Mark and Stephanie. At first Julie declined the invite, but I
insisted.
“I
couldn’t possibly. There’s not enough
room at this table,” she said.
“Nonsense. I’ll make room for you right here,” I said,
sliding my stool over and grabbing another one for Julie so that she was very
cozy between me and Mark.
Lo’s
eyes were shooting ICBM warheads at me.
Ha!
Despite
Lo’s displeasure, the addition of Julie really helped the evening’s
conversation. The awkward pairing of Lo
and Mark trading googly eyes at each other while Stephanie and I tried to
pretend like nothing was happening was disrupted by Julie’s asymmetrical
addition. Now Lo was forced to pay
attention to me at the expense of her romantic overtures to Mark. I enjoyed that very much.
The
night came to an early end for us because Lo insisted she had to get home “at a
decent hour” in order to prepare for some fictitious event. When I began to express perplexity at this
excuse, I received another swift kick to my other shin. I wasn’t sure how I’d walk home on those two
injured legs of mine.
As
soon as we were out of the restaurant, Lo stormed off at a brisk pace ahead of
me.
“What?”
I asked insincerely innocent.
Silence.
“Lo,
come on. Slow down and talk to me. What’s the matter?”
“You
know very well what’s the matter,” she said from ten feet in front of me.
“No
I don’t. What’s the matter? Come on?
Please slow down.”
She
waited for me.
“Oh, Julie, there’s plenty of room for
you. You can come here and sit on my lap,”
she said in a mocking manner.
“I
did not say that.”
“Whatever.”
“Does
it upset you?”
We
had just arrived at our apartment. We
got inside. She went right to the
bedroom and got naked.
“Mmmmm,
you look good,” I said.
“This,”
she said, sliding her hands over her sexy body, “is not for you.”
“I
suppose it’s for Mark,” I responded.
“It’s
for anyone except you,” she said curtly.
I
got naked and into bed and she slid under the covers next to me and shut out
the nightstand light.
From
the darkness I heard, “Daddy, do you like her?”
“Who?”
“You
know who.”
“Julie?”
“Yeah,
Julie, that slut.”
“Careful
Lo, ‘slut’ is a compliment in your book.”
“Only
for me. And you’re only for me. You hear me?”
“Yes,
Lo, I hear you.”
She
reached down and grabbed my cock and began rubbing it. “This is mine. You got that?”
“Yes
Lo.”
I
was getting hard. She dove under the
covers and began sucking my cock. When
she reemerged, she asked, “Do you want me?”
“Yes,”
I said.
“Well
get behind me and fuck me.”
I
did as she commanded. She was wet and
willing. She came within seconds of
penetration.
“Why
do you want me?” she asked when she caught her breath.
“Because
Lo, I’m like a dog. If you reach down
between my hind quarters and fondle me and suck me till I’m hard, I’m going to
want you.”
That
had her cumming again.
“Either
I get to have you,” I said, “or I’m going to be left painfully hard-up and full
of liquid desire for you.”
She
loves the thought of me (or men) suffering physical anguish in the groin for
her sweet release. This made her climax a
third time.
“Cum
in me. Use me. That’s what I’m here for. You don’t need anyone else. Just me and my cunt. Fuck me, you horny dog.”
I
did as she commanded, filling her full of my froth.
Filled, but not Finished
She
fell forward and I cuddled her.
“Daddy,
do you love me?”
“So
much,” I said.
“Then
why do you make me so jealous?”
“Honestly
Lo, it’s just to reassure me that I’m still your favorite. I don’t mind sharing you, but I do really
fear losing first place to someone else.”
“Daddy,
you’re silly. You know that more than
half the reason I flirt with other guys is because I want you to fuck me
fiercely. I want you to fight for me and
subdue me with your cock. Make me know
that you’re my Daddy.”
Hearing
her talk like that got me hard all over again and so I mounted her again and
asked her what she was.
“I’m
your bitch. I’m your horny, slutty,
dirty bitch.”
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.
“Match, Cinder & Spark,” great beach reading
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.”
