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Sexy Shorts: All Hands on Dick

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I awoke and in the darkness I could see the blurry blue light of the alarm clock.  5:50.  I usually get up at six, but I figured, close enough.  Then I noticed that something was not right.  Lo was not quietly snoozing beside me.  There was a pale blue light cast from the bathroom.  The door was open.  I peered in and I saw her sitting naked on the pot, her phone held in one hand, her other hand hidden from my sight between her legs.  I realized also that my cock was at attention under the covers.

I swung my legs out and over the side of the bed, sat up, and got up, naked.  I walked into the bathroom silently and Lo practically jumped to the ceiling with fright.  She clutched her phone tight.

“What the hell?!”

“I think I have a right to ask you that,” I responded.

I walked to the sink, next to her, and pulled out my toothbrush and put toothpaste on it.

“Mmmmm, what is this?” she asked, looking fawningly at my protruding member.  I had to be careful not to bang it on the porcelain sink.

“Why don’t you tell me?” I said, looking down at her accusingly.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, looking up at me subserviently.  “I had very sexy dreams.  They woke me and I was wet.  I tried to get you up, but then came here so as not to bother you.”

“Looks like you succeeded at getting me up,” I said.  “Did you squirt?”

“I was about to when you startled me.”

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Nothing, Daddy.”

“Nothing?”

“Just a story I was reading on Medium.”

“What story?”

She changed the subject by grabbing my cock with her left hand and stroking it.

“I never jacked someone off while he was brushing his teeth,” she said.

“That’s probably the only sexual act you haven’t done yet,” I wanted to say, but couldn’t because my mouth was full.

“I’ve never sucked someone off while he brushed his teeth either,” she added as she turned me and leaned in to take me in her mouth.

I spat and rinsed.  She squirted.  I could hear the stream of high-pressure fluid spray the pot.  She took me in her mouth deeper.  Soon I was ejaculating in her mouth as she leaned further forward to get it all.

After we both cleaned up, she pulled me back to the bed.  She lay me down and grabbed my flaccid cock.  “Get hard.  Please get hard,” she said as if praying to a god.  “Please.”

She used every trick in her tool box to reinvigorate my member, to no avail.  Finally she said, “If you won’t get hard for me, I will have to take matters into my own hands,” and she pulled out her arsenal of toys.  Looking through them, she found two or three that she thought would be best suited for her mood.

“Can I go now?” I asked.

“You don’t want to watch?”

“Lo, you’re like ‘Gilligan’s Island,’” I said

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked, angry.

“Nothing, just that I’ve seen you jill it so many times before.”

“You’re saying my sexy body is a rerun; a tired old show that’s been put into syndication; a dated, aged joke?”

“No no no,” I said, realizing I was now in hot water.

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s time that you put all hands on dick and I’ll show you how the professor takes care of Maryanne.”

My Love is a Red Red Rosebud

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“I’m so fat!” she decried as she stood in her bikini looking in the mirror at her reflection.

“You say that like fat is a bad thing,” I said with a smile.

“Shut up.”

“What?  All I’m saying is I like some meat on your bones.  You always tell me how much you like my meat and to bone.”

She threw a pillow at me.  “You’re tapping into my greatest insecurity.”

“Your weakness is your strength,” I replied.

“Your weakness is me.”

“I know.  I know.  Lola, you’re my Kryptonite.  I’m the Man of Steel.  But after being around you I go soft as a Slinky.  But seriously,” I said, “come here.”

She walked to me like a child who had just been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She stood in front of me.  I grabbed and kissed the small bulge above her bikini line.

“Stop it!  You know I hate that!”

“But I love it.  It’s so sexy.”

“I have to work on my beach body.”

“I’m working on my beach-ball body.”

“We both should exercise.”

“Exercise?!  Are you kidding me?  I just heard about a forty-year-old man who dropped dead – DEAD! – while on the treadmill.  Oh no.  Not for me, thank you.”

“What are you talking about?  He probably had a preexisting condition.  He probably had heart problems or was overweight.”

“That’s proof!  Proof that exercise is bad for you.  Positively lethal!”

“That’s not proof.”

“All I’m saying is that you never hear of a perfectly healthy forty-year-old man dying on his couch while reading a book.”

“Give me a break!” she said, throwing her arms in the air.

Lo and I went down to the pool of the hotel.

It was Valentine’s Day, we were on vacation in a warm-weather city, and Lo was looking like one sweet-tart.

Lo thought that, as usual, I had failed to make any plans for V-Day.  There she was wrong.

After some hours by the pool where she only got jealous of the other bikini babes walking past me, lounging in the reclining chairs, or dangling their feet in the water, we both were hungry and, after changing, I surprised her for the first time that day by actually having a lunch destination suggestion.

“Chinese?!” she questioned, both skeptical and disappointed.

We drove through the grid of the city to the special Chinese restaurant I had scoped out.  This wasn’t just your average Chinese joint; it was a newly opened, chic, “Asian-fusion” place simply called Red that was all the rage.

Luckily, Lo was impressed.

After our meal, Lo’s Fortune Cookie read: “Emotion is energy in motion” and I added “in bed.”

When we got back to the car, a compact, two-seater, Lo laughed as she got in.

“What?” I asked, curious as to what she found so amusing.

“Nothing,” she replied, enigmatically.

“I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you later, when you’re older.”

“Lo, I’m older now.  I’ll always be older.  So, out with it.”

“Where are we going now, Daddio?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. . . some dive bar.”

“That should be easy enough,” I said as I got the car started and, put the top down, and pulled out into the busy road by the beach.

No sooner had we gotten stuck in the see-and-be-seen crowd of the resort road, than Lo leaned back with one high-heel shod foot dangling seductively over the edge of the door and the other up on the dash as she flashed me, venting up her skirt in the warm, humid, sea-salty air.

“Lo, you’re doing it again?”

“Doing what, Daddio?”

“Flashing in public.”

“Am I?  But we’re in the privacy of our own vehicle.”

“Lo,” I said, as I gave her a side-long glance, trying to focus on traffic.

“You like, Daddio?” she asked.

That night I surprised even myself by having dinner reservations, chocolate, cupcakes, roses, and a card all lined up.  Good job, HH.  I congratulate you.  When we got to the red rented convertible, I popped the top down and looked in the back seat, saying to Lo, “Oh, look there, someone must have left something in the car before we rented it.”

She looked over the bucket seat and saw, sitting on the leather behind her, the scarlet box of chocolates, the bouquet of roses, a box of pink-frosted cupcakes, and a cardinal colored envelope.

Hopping in, she tore into the card.  It was an e. e. cummings poem and a little note from me.

She read the e.e. cummings poem and looked at me seductively and said, “Soon I’ll be-e cumming too.”

She then opened the cupcakes and slowly sank her mouth over the pink-frosted top, taking a slow, seductive bite.

“Lo!  We’re on our way to dinner,” I jokingly rebuked her.  “You can’t eat dessert before dinner.”

“But Daddy,” she said, looking at me with frosting on her lips.  “you know that I can’t pass up a good cream filling.”

“How did you know it was a cream filling?  You’ve only just had the frosting.”

“I wasn’t talking about the cupcake,” she said as she bit into it again.  She then leaned over the seat and gave me a big, wet, frosted kiss.  “But I know that you know that cream filling is my favorite and so I figured you got me what I wanted.”

Secretly, I delighted in seeing her eat the cupcake.  A certain kink, that is, if she was into it too, which she most definitely was not.

We got to the restaurant and Lo was wearing a cute, short red dress and matching pumps.  She looked adorable.  I could tell that all eyes were on her, just as she likes it.

“Lo,” I said as we sat at our romantic, candle-lit table, “you look better than ever!”

“Oh, go on,” she said, vainly.  I love her vanity.

“Really, they say that men get better looking with age and that may be true.  But you, my dear, look better to me every day we’re together.”

She slipped her right foot out of her sexy shoe under the table and lifted it to rub my leg up and down, showing her appreciation of my sincere, but flattering words.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“Why not, Daddy?”

“Because I may have to ravish you right here and now, rather than wait until we get back to the hotel and in bed.”

“Sex is not just something that happens in bed.  Sex is a lifestyle.”

“You should write adult fortune cookies.”

She continued to rub my leg up and down, stretching now to touch my crotch.  Her antics were hidden by the long tablecloth draped over the cozy round table, but I have no doubt an onlooker would be able to tell what she was up to.

After our meal, the waiter asked if we’d like dessert.  I looked at Lo.  “I really shouldn’t, I had the cupcake in the car,” she said.

I looked at the waiter and ordered an espresso and the red velvet cake for the lady.

After the waiter left, Lo said to me, “Daddio, I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then do it.  Why not?  It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

The cake and espresso came and I almost did too as I watched Lo eat the decadently delicious confection.

“Let’s go to the hotel and order a whole cake for you to eat while I eat you out,” I suggested, eager to have my luscious little Lo.

“Not yet, Daddio,” she said.  “It’s early.  Let’s go out for a few drinks first.”

“But I want you so much right now,” I said as I watched her tongue lick her red lips of the crimson cake crumbs.

“I’ll give you an appetizer in the car.”

We got in the convertible and Lo turned toward me in the red leather bucket seat.  She spread her legs and rubbed her pussy over her cherry colored panties.

“I like how your entire outfit matches.”

“I’m good like that.”

I drove down the main drag of the city and Lo let the seat go back, lifted her feet onto the dashboard, and removed her panties.  “I won’t be needing these where we’re going,” she said as she tossed them high in the air.  I saw them fly upwards and then down onto the road behind us.

“Lo!” I scolded.

“She laughed.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of us.”

“Oh, Daddio,” she said, rubbing my arm, “don’t be so rigid about the rules.  Are you rigid?” she asked, moving her hand down to my cock.

“Like a ruler,” I said.

“If only you were twelve inches!” she exclaimed.

I parked the car and we went into a cute little bar called “Rosebud & Thistle.”

“Remember Citizen Kane?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said as we walked to the joint.

“Rosebud.”

“What about it?”

“That was the last word he said.”

“And the name of his sled.”

“Did you know that it was also what William Randolph Hearst called his wife’s clit?”

“Now you’re just making that up,” she said skeptically.

“I appreciate your esteem of my creativity, but that’s a fact.”

“Well, why don’t you have a pet name for my clit?” she asked peevishly.

“Because, to me, you’re so much more than your clit.”

“Good save,” she said as we walked in the bar.

Inside was drenched in dim, romantic, rubicund light with lots of tufted leather love seats and a long bar with classic, 1950s style shiny red leather and chrome stools.

“Bar or booth?” I asked Lo.

She scanned the space and settled on the bar, leading me to the far corner.  We found two vacant stools kitty-corner to each other.  She made for one that was next to a lone gentleman who stared into his dwindling drink.  She interrupted his ponderings to ask if the stool was taken and he politely invited her to sit.  She slid up on the stool which, given her diminutive size, meant that her feet didn’t touch the ground.  She smiled at him and I could see her eyes penetrate his dark soul.

Immediately she initiated small talk with him, telling him that we are from out of town and never had been to this place before.  “Is there something pretty and sweet that catches your eye?” she asked before adding, “on the menu.”

He began to make a recommendation, but before he could even get it out, she interrupted him and said, “You know,” grabbing his elbow, “I’m in the mood for something stiff.”  He looked at her, his eyes growing a little wider.  “What are you drinking?” she asked.

He simply said, “Whiskey.”

“Straight?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, I’m not straight,” she said, “I want something complicated.”

She looked at the drink menu and put her finger to her lips, contemplating the choices in her mind.

I cleared my throat since throughout this award-worthy performance, I had remained silent.

“OH!” said Lo, introducing me, “This is my man, HH.  HH, this is. . .”

Obviously she didn’t know his name.

“Ron,” he said.

“Hi, Ron,” I said.

“HH, will you order me a pomegranate martini?  I’m going to freshen up,” she said as she attempted to scooch off of her stool.  But the sliding down lifted up her red dress and nearly exposed her rosebud.

“Whoops!” she exclaimed, waiting just long enough for Ron to see before pulling down the front of her dress.

Lo gave me a peck on the cheek and disappeared.

I sat at the bar making conversation with Ron for a few moments before Lo returned.

“So, Ron,” she said almost immediately, “why are you here all alone on Valentine’s Day?”

I felt that that was none of Lo’s concern, but there was no putting the question back in between her just glossed lips now.

Ron went into a long story about breaking up with his girlfriend of four years only a few days ago.  Turns out she was cheating on him.

“What can I do to cheer you up?” asked Lo, sliding her dress up.

“You’re already cheering me up,” he said with great appreciation in his voice.

Lo’s drink came.

“How’s your drink?” I asked as she took a sip.

“It’s wet.”

“Your drink?”

“That too.”

Soon she ordered a slice of strawberry shortcake.

I took great delight in seeing her eat her third dessert and flirting with Ron as I sipped my Manhattan.

“Mmmmm, this is so fucking good!” she said as she took another bite.

“‘Fucking’ is unnecessary and vulgar,” I replied.

“I don’t agree at all.  For me fucking is completely necessary and appropriate.”

“Only if you’re doing it,” I said.

“That’s what I meant,” she responded immediately.  “Why, what were you talking about?”

“I was talking about your vocabulary.  You have a dirty mouth.”

“Not nearly as dirty as my mind.”

Then Lo turned and offered a taste of the cake to her new friend and he took it.  “Isn’t that just heaven?” she asked as her right hand rested his left arm on her bare leg.  He nodded yes and I could see him rubbing her thigh.  When the cake and drinks were consumed, Lo paid the bill, pulling some dollars out of her ruby purse.

“I would have got that,” I said as the bartender took Lo’s cash.

“That’s ok, Daddio,” she said, “this has been my treat.”

Lo kissed Ron on the cheek, slid awkwardly off the stool again, and wished him a happy Valentine’s Day, adding, “Next time, let her cheat – it’s more fun that way.”

Lo put her arm around mine and we went out to the car.

“Lo, you were very bad in there,” I said.

“Was I?” she asked, feigning innocence.  “I thought I was very good.”

When we got in the car, she kicked off her heels and put her feet up on my lap.  “Rub them, Daddy,” she said.

I caressed her toes and instep with my left hand and she moaned.

“Did you like Rosebud, Daddy?” she asked.

“You mean the bar or your clit?” I asked back, looking at her rub her pussy as I pulled out of the parking spot.

“Yes,” she said enigmatically.

“I liked watching you eat three desserts,” I said.  “Maybe tomorrow I’ll get donuts for breakfast.”

“I’m like the perfect donut – delicious, hot, fresh, with a lovely hole.”

“You sure have a way with words,” I said.

“My tongue is wicked, that’s why it’s red, but my soul is pure as the driven snow.”

“Well, that wicked tongue of yours was really charming the pants off of good ole Ron.”

“Can it charm the pants off of you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I looked at her, driving distracted.

“Take your cock out.”

“Lo, I’m driving.  In a convertible.  On the main street of this city.”

“Exactly,” she said, wiggling her toes over my lap.

At a red light, I unzipped and pulled out my hard shaft.

We drove on and as we did her feet and toes caressed me. The surprise of it all brought me to an unexpected climax as well, covering Lo’s toes with my warm jizz.

This presented a problem.  My trousers were soaked.  The seat had a puddle.  Everything was wet and sticky.  How were we to get into the hotel to clean off?

“Well, isn’t this a fine mess you got us into?” I asked, mimicking Oliver Hardy’s constant refrain to Stan Laurel.  But the allusion was lost on Lo.  Different generation.

“What do you mean I got us into?!”

“Just kidding, dear.  But what are we going to do?”

“Not a problem.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Just drive up to the side entrance of the hotel.”

“What are you going to do, put on your invisicloak?”

“Sort of.”

I drove up and Lo said to me, “Leave your phone and wallet in the car and follow me.”

I followed her and she used her hotel key to let us in the pool entrance.  She walked as if she was tipsy and, as if she were walking a balance beam, she tiptoed along the edge of the pool before “accidentally” falling in.

After a split second of shock, I kicked off my shoes and dove in after her, fully clothed.

A few of the guests and the staff ran over to the pool.  I held Lo in my arms, her red dress clinging to her breasts, her little bare feet kicking and splashing.  She faked coughing.

“It’s all right,” I called out.  “I got her!  But could someone get us a couple of towels?”

Men rushed to help and we both got out of the pool even more soaking than we had been a few moments ago.  We wrapped ourselves in the plush white terrycloth towels and I turned to Lo and said, “Pure as the driven snow.”

She looked at me, her mascara dripping down her face, her hair matted down, and she smiled saying, “You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome?!  I saved you!”

“By letting you save me, I saved you.  Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy.”

Back in the hotel room, after a long hot shower, as I lay naked on the bed watching Lo brushing out her hair, I put on a song that summed up Lola’s V-Day shenanigans.  It’s called, “What Ever Lola Wants,” sung by Sarah Vaughan

 

Whatever Lola wants
Lola gets
And little man little Lola wants you

Make up your mind to have (your mind to have)
No regrets (no regrets)
Recline yourself resign yourself you’re through

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

Whatever Lola wants (Lola wants)
Lola gets (Lola gets)
Take off your coat
Don’t you know you can’t win (can’t win you’ll never never win)

You’re no exception to the rule
I’m irresistible you fool
Give in (give in you’ll never win)

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

When she came out of the bathroom, she said, “Damn straight!  And now I’m coming for your cock.”

She crawled on the bed and, just to tease her, I said, “I thought I’d read a little.”

She spread her legs and replied, “Read between the lines,” as she placed her middle finger between her lush red labia.

“Looks like it says, ‘Rosebud,’” I said as I indulged in my dessert.

Friday is Boobday!

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Hey y’all, every Friday is Boobday over at A Dissolute Life Means. . .

Last Thanksgiving we sent her the photo below.

Quick story of the making of it:

Lola and I were staying were visiting friends for Thanksgiving out of town.  We were invited over for the Thanksgiving Day meal and, just before sitting down, Lo saw that her phone had a message.  She opened it up and looked at a photo that one of her fans had sent.  She bent over to look at it more carefully.  She asked me to fuck her in the bathroom.  I found her irresistible and entered her from behind while she continued to admire her admirer.  I took out my phone and took a quick pic of us in the mirror.

On the right is the photo the friend sent in.

The story is now published and you can read it here: Very Thankful

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Truth Stick

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It was Friday night and Lo and I were at a fundraising event at our city’s art museum.  It was a lovely affair and the only thing that gets Lo and me more riled up than art museums is art museums at night, with alcohol and lots of good looking people dressed to impress.

In my humble opinion, Lo was the most impressively dressed.  She was all dolled up in her heels, slinky skin-tight blue dress showing a lot of leg and cleavage, and her long hair framing her alluring face.  We were in the courtyard of the museum and a classical string quartet was playing.  I looked up at the sky and said to Lo, “I’m worried about the weather.”

“What about it?”

“I’m afraid it’s going to rain.  I don’t want you to get wet.”

“Too late for that.  I know what I’m going to do when we get home.”

“Oh boy.”

“Hopefully many boys!”

“Oh, I thought you were talking about me.”

“You and some other eye-candy I see tonight.”

“Like a little girl in a candy-shop, are you?”

She bit her lip and said, “Do you have anything for me to suck on, Daddy?”

“Lo, wait till we get home, ok?”

We were drinking champagne and then I noticed the perfect complement for it.  “Look, Lo, a cupcake bar!  Let’s get some.”

“You’re really undoing all of my effort.”

“Undoing what effort?”

“My diet.  Losing weight.”

“You have to feed your soul.  Soul, being immaterial, never gains weight, but it can starve.”

“My soul is starving – starving for your attention.  Let’s forego the cupcakes and find a coat closet and get right to the main course.”

We mingled and drank a bit more, but the weather was ominous.  Finally I convinced Lo that we should get going.

We picked up the car from the valet, but once we were in, Lo suggested going to a club.

“Lo, it’s already ten o’clock.”

“Already?!  Are you kidding me?  As if that’s late.  The night is young and so am I.”

“Well, young’un, I’m not and I’m tired.  You can drop me off at home and have your night on the town.”

“Well,” she said, “at least tell me I’m going to get laid tonight.”

Silence.

“Oh no, I’m getting fucked tonight, preferably by you.”

Silence.

“If you don’t plan on doing me tonight, then I’m making calls and I’ll find someone who will.”

“Is that the origin of the term ‘call girl’?  I’ve had it backwards all these years!”

“Shut up and feel my puss!  Feel how wet it is?” she asked as she pulled my hand up her dress to her crotch where I discovered the reason for why her dress looked as smooth as skin on her – no panties!

“That’s it, Daddio.”

I began to caress her and she put the seat back to allow me easier access.  Suddenly a car jumped out in front of us from a side road.  I swerved.  She sat up.

“Watch it!” she yelled at me.

“Do you want me to drive carefully or to finger you?”

“Oh yeah. . .  Well, I guess I don’t really need you,” she said as she began fingering herself.

This was almost as distracting for me as my doing it for her.  She came.  She came again.  We pulled in the driveway.  I went to open the door.

“Not so fast, Daddio.”

“We’re home.”

“But we don’t have to go in right away.  How about you kiss me?  You know, I’ve gotten more tongue from a dog than I have from you in the past month.”

“Didn’t I get on my knees and lick your pussy all morning after your shower before we went out tonight?”

“That’s my cunt.  I’m talking about tongue-to-tongue.”

“With a dirty mouth like that, is it any surprise?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

I kissed her.  She pulled my hand down to her dripping pussy.

“It’s never just romance with you?” I ask.

“It’s all romance with me.  My definition of romance is very wide, very deep, and fits a lot into it.”

“Are we discussing romance or. . .”

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.”

I followed orders.  She again pressed my fingers down on her clit.  She rubbed them around the way she wanted to be stroked.  “I said, keep kissing me.  That didn’t mean to stop fingering me.”

“How about we take this inside?”

“OK, pull down your pants.”

“Not inside you!  I meant let’s go in the house.”

“Oh, right.”

As we were walking into our building, there was a flash of lighting and a crackle of thunder – loud and very soon after the lightning.  Big, heavy rain drops began to fall, one-by-one at first.  Within moments of getting inside, it was a heavy and steady downpour.  “Let’s start this storm off right,” said Lo as she grabbed me, pushed me up against the wall, took my hands and placed them on her breasts.  I kissed her on her open mouth.  It was hot.

We walked to the bedroom.  I got naked and into bed.  Lo went into the bathroom saying, “I just have to take off my makeup.”

I guess I was more tired than I thought.  Within seconds I fell into a deep and heavy sleep.  I awoke to a naked Lo between my legs with my cock filling her mouth.

“Lo, I think I’m too tired,” I said, fearing her wrath.

She pulled her face up enough to say, “That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not.”

“Let’s see what the Truth Stick says.”  She grabbed my hard cock.  “The Truth Stick says otherwise.”

“I should beat you with my Truth Stick!”

“Yes!  That’s all I want!”

She climbed on my erection and slid her warm puss down it, straddling me.

But, no matter what the Truth Stick said, I kept on nodding off to sleep.  I don’t know if she came or if she merely got turned off by the lack of attention, but at some point she climbed down from her pole and sat next to me in bed.  She pulled out her Hitachi and placed it between her legs.  Looking over at me next to her with disdain, as she massaged herself, she said, “Brian, my special friend at work, said he’s really eager to work with me.  He told me today that whenever and wherever I need him, I should just say the word and he’ll be there.  I’m thinking about him right now.  I’m thinking about his big, strong arms.  I’m thinking about his broad shoulders.  His huge bulge in his pants.  I’m thinking about what sorts of things I might ask him to do for me.”

I know she was just trying to make me jealous and simultaneously rile me up to giving her a good hard pounding – plumbing her depths with my Truth Stick – and I was flattered, but unable to give her what she wanted.  As I heard her climax alone next to me the lyrics of a song wafted through my mind as I gently withdrew to dreamland:

She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she cums just like a little whore.

Game Time

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It was Thursday.  The Thursday before Super Bowl Sunday to be exact.  It was just your average Thursday until, unable to shake a persistent cold, I went to the doctor.  After a check-up, X-rays and bloodwork, I was diagnosed with pneumonia and ordered to get bedrest.  Lo, of course, was as caring and fussing as the most attentive nurse and she took pity on my pain and suffering.

“Daddio?” she said Thursday night.

“What?” I replied in a raspy whisper.

“You know, it’s been so long since. . .”

“Lo, don’t tell me you want to fuck.”

“OK, I won’t tell you,” she said, reaching her hand to my groin, “but I’ll show you.”

She pulled out her double-ended dildo and, before she could go to town with it, I interrupted.  “Lo, I just need to get some sleep.  If you want to fuck your brains out with that thing, can you do it in the living room?”

“Daddio, it’s been days!”

“According to my calculations,” I replied, “I think it’s been since Tuesday.”

“Yes!  You see – two days!”

“Living room.”

She moped away, dildo in hand, her intentions of seducing me shattered.

I didn’t hear much more from her that night because I quickly fell off to sleep, the Nyquil silencing any extraneous noise she may have made during her solo session.

The next day when she came home from work I was recuperating on the couch, watching mind-numbing TV.  I turned to Lo and asked, “Why is everything on TV so stupid?”

“Because smart doesn’t sell,” she said without missing a beat.

“Where are you going?” I asked her as I saw her put down her work bag and pick up her clutch.

“Out,” she said simply.  She pulled a piece of paper out of her clutch and looked it over.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s my ‘to do’ list.”

“Oh yeah?  Whose names are on it?”

“Funny.  Do you need anything?”

“Some more orange juice and throat lozenges.”

“What you need is sex,” she said, bending over to put on her pumps.

“I still have a 102 temperature.”

“I’m just saying, sex, it does a body good,” she smirked, looking at me upside-down between her legs.

“It sure does your body good, but mine is beyond repair.”

“Oh, Daddio,” she said as she blew an air-kiss my way, “I’ll get you your OJ and lozenges.  Kiss kiss.”

Later, as I lay on the couch wallowing in my misery, Lola sent me a pic on my phone.  It was of her topless in panties.  “Like?” she asked in the text.

“Where are you and what are you doing?”

“Shopping.  I thought you could use a little lingerie photo shoot.”

She was in the changing room of Victoria’s Secret or something, taking seflies for me.  I can’t deny that, even in my state of dysphoria, I found her antics alluring.

I texted her which panties I liked.  There were not many that I didn’t like.

“Maybe I can sell them on-line?” she texted back.

“People can buy them themselves from the store, you know.”

“I meant my used panties,” she responded.

“Oh.  I hadn’t thought of that.  Yeah.  Go for it.”

“I’m coming,” she texted.

“Lo, this is no time for you to be masturbating in public!”

“I mean, I’m coming home now.”

“Oh.”  Phew.

Soon she was walking in the door and she asked me how I was feeling.

“The same.  Still watching mind-numbing cable TV.”  A cooking show was on instructing how to make a baked pastry filled with fruit.

“I love those,” said Lo, sitting next to me.  “Do you?”

“I hate tarts. . . .  Present company excluded, of course.”

“Mmmm, this is making me hungry,” said Lo.  “Did you eat anything today?”

“Yes.  I made myself lunch.”

“What did you have?”

“I had a grilled cheese and a chocolate milk.”

“You realize,” said Lo, “that that is the lunch of an average fifth-grader.”

“Are you implying that I’m average?”

“Ugh.  Are you hungry?”

“No dear.”

“You should eat.”

“No thank you.”

Lola went into the kitchen and, before long I heard her cussing at something.  I got up and saw her having a devil of a time trying to flip her omelet.  “Stand back,” I said, “it needs a man’s touch.”

“Well, I know something does,” she said to me.  After I flipped it she asked, “Do you want me to blow you?” and she dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor.

“No, I don’t want you to blow me.  I’m sick.”

“And I’m horny.  Each of us can cure the other,” she said looking up at me, fumbling in my pajama bottoms for my cock.

“Lola, your omelet is ready.”

She sat down and I served her.  As she ate she asked me, “How do you reconcile my silly and sexy sides?”

Sitting across from her, nursing a drink of water, I said, “You’re a complete cable package with porno channels and Comedy Central.”

“I like that,” she said.  “I can’t wait to show you my new panties.”

“You already did – virtually.”

When we went to bed, I was still feeling miserable.  I rejected Lola once more and she made a little tent of the sheets and opened up her phone and went to town on herself to who-knows-what naughtiness of pornographic material.  We had gone to bed early, around nine, and when I woke up around eleven, she was still at it.  Ignoring her, I used the bathroom and returned.  She didn’t even notice my brief absence, or at least she didn’t indicate any notice.

The next morning, Saturday, she sauntered naked into the living room where I was sitting, sipping my tea and honey.  “Morning dear,” she said.

“Oh, what a long fucking night,” I responded, having slept very poorly.

“Back in the day we’d have a long night fucking,” she quipped, followed by, “Those days can happen again, Sugar.”

“Not today they won’t!” I insisted, exhausted by her libido without having enjoyed any of its fringe benefits in days.

“Awww,” she said, cuddling up to me, “still not feeling well?”

“A little better,” I said.  “At least I’m hungry.  That’s a good sign.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” she offered enthusiastically.  “How about pancakes?”

“OK.”

She went to the kitchen and I followed her when I could smell the delicious aroma.

“Uh oh,” she said.

“What?”

“Too high, too long.”

“What?”

“My pancake.  The heat was on too high and I left it on too long.  It burned.”

“Oh no it didn’t.  That’s just how I like it!”

I ate and was feeling better.  We needed to do food shopping and I offered to go with Lola to the store.  She drove and when we got there, she said, “You stay here.  I’ll go in.”

“No, I can go,” I protested.

“You rest.  I’ll go in.”

“Why can’t we both go in?”

“I’ll give you three good reasons: I’ll make it quicker, cheaper, and easier.  Now that I think about it – that’s exactly what people said about me in college.”

“You are incorrigible.”

When we got back home, having missed work on Friday, I tried to do a little work from home that afternoon since I was feeling slightly better (at least I had no fever).  Lo came in the room, naked again but for her new thong, trying to seduce me.   I tried telling her that I had a lot of work to do.  “I’m really quite behind.”

As if on que, she bent over and showed me her ass, the thong hardly visible.

“That’s quite a behind too,” I said.

“And it’s all yours, Daddio.”

“Let’s not exaggerate.  All?”

“Well, you can have it all right now, if you want.  And then later someone else can have it all.”

“At least you’re more accurate now.”

“Well?”

“Not now darling.”

“Fine!” she said, pouting.  “I’m going out tonight.”

“Fine.”

Later she appeared, all dolled up, wearing her favorite earrings designed like little anchors and a sweater with a nautical theme designed into it.

“Well, don’t you look cute,” I said, trying to be nice.

“I look like a little sailor!”

“Trying to find semen.”

She threw a pillow at me.  “You’re crude and rude!”

“It’s true.”

“Even if it is true, you have a vulgar mouth.”

“As Jesus said, it’s not what comes out of the mouth that makes it vulgar, it’s what you put in.”

“Well, darling, when I come back home tonight and tell you what I’ve put in it, I guarantee that Jesus never imagined such a string of words coming out of anyone’s mouth, especially not from such a little angelic beauty as I.”

“I can’t wait.  Pack your condoms!  A sailor doesn’t want to get caught without a rain jacket!”

“Don’t you worry,” she said as she kissed me goodbye.

I heard nothing from her the rest of the night.

When she got home, long after I had turned in for some much needed sleep, I heard her undress and slither under the sheets, pressing her chilly skin up against my nice, warm, almost feverish body.

“Did you have a good time, darling?”

“Frustrating,” she whispered.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“We went to a gay bar.”

“Where’d you go and who’d you go with?”

She gave me the details and then told me that they went to see a burlesque show.  It got her all riled up without any release.

“And, let me guess – now you are crawling back from your fishing expedition looking for my rod.”

“Let me have it.”

“No,” I said.

“Let me suck it.”

“No.”

“Please.  Let me just hold it.”

“Lo, I’m still sick.”

“Me too.  I want you to catch what I have.”

“Lo.”

She knew I wasn’t joking around.  For a third night in a row she was reduced to playing with her toys rather than me (or someone else).

The next day was Super Bowl Sunday and we had been invited over to Mark and Stephanie’s for the game.  I still wasn’t sure if I was up for it.  I was feeling light-headed and dizzy, occasionally perspiring and having the chills.  I didn’t think it was a good idea.  Lo pleaded with me, however.  She did her level best to nurse me all morning and afternoon, and when 4:00 came around and a game-time decision had to be made, I conceded and said I’d go.

It was a big crowd and Mark and Stephanie had gone all out to make it a super Super Bowl party.  There were dips and sandwiches, a fully stocked bar and coolers of beer, and Mark was even manning the grill outside on the deck next to the Jacuzzi.  And apparently it was a no-kids party, since I saw neither hide nor hair of the little rug-rats.

We got there and Lo took as little interest in the game as I did in the food.  Unfortunately, due to my infirmity, I had no appetite.  Lo, got me comfortably seated close to the TV and then she flitted around in her short skirt and sexy blouse.  She looked good and I enjoyed watching her go from circle to circle smiling and seducing with her charms.  At one point she came over to check on me and she grabbed my bicep and said, “Mmmm, I want you.”

“You don’t fool me, Lo,” I responded back.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know perfectly well what it is you want.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want Mark’s meat – and I don’t mean all the burgers and sausages he’s cooking on the grill.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”  Her apology was an admission of guilt.  “But he’s wearing that short sleeve shirt and, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” her tongue made a purring sound, “he’s so hot.  But I really do want you.”

“You want to hop on my cock and use me while you think about him.”

“Just the same, I still want you.”

“I’m flattered,” I said flatly.

“Come on, I’ve been denied for almost a week now!”

Cock substitutes are no substitute for cock according to Lo.

The party and the game went on close to midnight and when it was over someone – the safe money is on Lo – suggested getting into the hot tub.

By this time, I was long ready to go, but I stuck it out on Lo’s account.  She, of course, had no bathing suit, but that wasn’t going to stop her.  Mark descended the staircase in his Speedo and carrying a few robes and towels for people.  There was room for six or eight in the tub, but I abstained, not wishing to catch double pneumonia.  Mark, a couple of other neighbors, and Lo all were game, however.  The neighbors and Lo took turns getting out of their clothes and into their birthday suits under their robes in the downstairs bathroom.  Then it was out into the cold dark night, on the deck, beer and wine in hand, and, down fell the robes, in went the naked bodies to the tub.  I could see the crew from the kitchen window where I stood, next to Stephanie who also chose to forego the midnight hot tub excursion.  Whether it was due to disgust at Mark’s behavior, jealousy of Lola, compassion (or some other feeling) for me, or her stated reason, “to clean up,” I don’t know.  All I know is that as she collected and cleared off the dirty dishes, I helped by arranging them in the dishwasher.

Occasionally, I peeked out the window that looked out from the kitchen over the deck, but, not intending to gawk, I made conversation with Stephanie, who, I spied, also was monitoring the situation in the tub from her perch behind the kitchen sink.

“It was so nice of you and Mark to have us all over for the game.  You two throw a great party.”

“Oh, we’re just so glad you could make it.  I was really worried when I heard about your pneumonia.”

“I’ve been taking my antibiotics and I’m no longer contagious, I promise.  I’ve been taking my antibiotics for four days now.  I’m just feeling lousy at this point.”

“Well, you really rallied for tonight.”

“It’s always nice to see you. . . and Mark and it was sweet of you to invite us.”

“To be honest, we think you two are a great couple!”

“Thanks.  I wish I could live up to my part of the bargain tonight.”

“You are.  See, we’re getting to talk now.”

The truth was, I was feeling weak-kneed, but was rallying for both Stephanie’s sake and to keep a close eye on Lo.

“I wish I could be more fun.  It looks like they’re having a good time out there in the hot tub surrounded by the snow.”  I gestured out the window in an attempt to get a sense of Stephanie’s thoughts on it.

“I’m sure Mark is having the time of his life,” Stephanie said, almost to herself.

“What?  What’s that?” I asked as she passed me a plate.

“Oh, nothing.”  She dismissed her comment.

“I hope that Lo isn’t making. . .” I didn’t know what to say, but luckily Stephanie rescued my faltering ellipses.

“Me jealous?  That’s not it.  Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes, please do,” I said.

“After our second kid, I just lost all of my sex-drive.  I feel terribly guilty about it.  I love Mark.  I love him so much and I know he loves me.”  She grabbed a paper towel to wipe her eyes that were watering up.  “But, I just don’t feel it anymore.  I don’t know what happened.  I want him to be happy and I know that he. . . never mind.”

“He what?” I was desperate for her to continue.  “You can tell me.  It’s ok.”

“I know he finds Lola attractive.  Who wouldn’t?  So, let him have his fun.  But I shouldn’t say that.  Doesn’t it bother you to hear me say that?”

I took ahold of Stephanie’s elbow and I said to her very quietly, “You both deserve to be happy.”  I had no idea what I meant by that and I think that Stephanie didn’t know what to make of it either.  Those were just the words that came out of my mouth in a moment of connection and compassion.

I was keen on giving her a hug, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure exactly how non-contagious I was and I didn’t know if it would be welcomed at that moment.  As I held Stephanie’s arm, she and I both gazed out the window and we saw Lo emerge, naked as Venus from the churning sea, grab towel, wrap it around herself and then she popped into the kitchen.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Lo said.

“Are you ready, so soon?” I asked, half mocking.

“Thanks for being a dear.  Yes.  I’ll just get dressed and. . .”  She closed the bathroom door and a moment later she popped out.  We waved a friendly good-bye and thank you to our hosts and their guests, still outside, and then Lo drove home.

“How was the hot tub, darling?” I asked.

“It was good,” she said.  She was speeding.

“Take it easy, the cops are just looking for a reason to pull anyone over tonight.”

“I want to get home and do you!”

“What happened out there?”

“Nothing.  I just want you.  It’s been a long time.”

“Nothing?  Really?  Now why don’t I believe that?”

“OK, ok.  Fine,” she said, reaching over to grab my crotch.

“You’re driving, you know.  And this ain’t a stick-shift.”

“I was sitting across from Mark, naked, looking at his big broad shoulders.”

“Dreamy,” I said sarcastically.

“Dreamy,” she repeated, “especially as the steam wafted off the surface of the water.  I would keep on ‘accidentally’ popping my nipples just above the water line so he could see.”

“And everyone else.”

“And everyone else,” she repeated, again groping at my crotch.  “Are you getting hard?”

“Never you mind and continue with your story.”

“Well, I had one hand down between my legs.”

“You’re bad.”

“I couldn’t help it, Daddy.”

“Did anyone notice?”

“I don’t think so.  But, as I stroked it, I kept playing footsie with Mark. He didn’t say anything, but I know he liked it.  At one point, he got up out of the tub to grab another beer and. . .”  She pulled her hand from my crotch and placed it in hers.

“And what?”

“And he was so hard, he was practically exploding out of that tiny bathing suit he wore!”  Her hand was up her short dress.

“You came.”

“I’m cumming.”

“I mean then.”

“Yes.  And now.”

“That’s why you wanted to go.  You couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Right.”

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You’re going to take me to bed and fuck me senseless!”

That was the last thing I remember of the ride home.  I suppose I passed out from exhaustion.  The next thing I felt was Lo trying to wake me gently from the driver’s seat as we sat in the garage at home.  Like a somnambulist, I found my way to bed.  I was the one senseless, not Lo.

The next day, Monday, was a blizzard.  Both Lo and I could have slept in.  But I had missed work since Thursday of the previous week.  I had to go in, at least for a little while.  So, early in the morning, before the flakes had fully accumulated, I snuck out while Lo was still soundly asleep, naked in the warm bed.  I got to work, feeling much improved, took care of some urgent matters, and then drove home carefully through the poorly plowed streets.

When I got back, I found Lo still in bed.  I took one look at her and said, “You masturbated, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to.  It was an accident.”

“Well, I’m going to shovel.”

“What should I do?”

“You could help me shovel, if you’re not too wet.”

“I don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Alright.  See you later,” I said, and, bundling up I went outside to clear the driveway.

I wasn’t upset.  I wasn’t mad.  I was actually glad.  Yes, I was still recovering from pneumonia.  Yes, I had gone into work on a horrible winter’s day when most of the city stayed home.  Yes, Lo had been inside all morning, sleeping late, sexing herself up, and probably jillin’ it once more even as I shoveled away.  But the thought of her, nestled up under the covers pleasuring herself filled me with joy.  I’m a lucky guy.  I can lose sight of that sometimes.  Not this time.  I shoveled with a smile on my face.  When I was done, to my surprise and delight, Lo was not in bed, fucking herself silly to her favorite Tumblr pages.  She was in a silky black negligee, helping me out of my bundled jackets and scarves, and then bringing me a hot cocoa as she tucked me under a throw on the couch.

“What’s all this for?” I asked.

“I just love you and I want you to know that I’m the luckiest gal in the world to have you, Daddio.”

“What do you want, Lo?” I asked in my Ricky Ricardo tone.

“Nothing, Daddio.  Honest.  I just was lying in bed and I realized all you do for me.  I just wanted to do something nice in return.”

I sipped my hot cocoa and read a little of the Sunday paper that was still lying out on the coffee table from yesterday.

Lola sat on the couch next to me, her left hand slowly made its way under my covers to my crotch.  She grabbed my cock and then began pumping it as I read.

“Lo?”

“Yes, Daddio?”

“What are you doing?”

“Do you like?”

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a hand-job.”

She continued for a little while.  Then she pulled her hand away and, like a groundhog or ferret, she nosed her way under the blankets, getting her face buried between my legs and went to work on me with her mouth.  At a certain point, I put down the paper and began guiding her head gently up and down.

She abruptly stopped before I was ready to spout.  “Let’s go to the bedroom, Daddio.  I want to tell you something special.”

She led me down the hall, hopped on the edge of the bed in her little black nighty, revealing her naked ass and puss to me.  “Mount me,” she commanded.  I did as she said.

“What did you want to tell me?”

When she had caught her breath, she whispered over her shoulder, “I was so bad last night.”

“Yes, Lo, you were.  That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
“No, there’s more but. . .”  She was enjoying herself at this point, too much to talk.  She came in about fifteen seconds.  As she came she was yelling, “I love your cock!  I love your cock!”  When she was done she said, “Flip me over and fuck me.”

I did as she asked.  I put her on her back on the side of the bed, held her heels up by my shoulders, and went at her.

“Do you think he liked seeing my pussy, Daddy?” she asked.

“Yes, Lo.  Who wouldn’t?”
“I had got it all smooth for him.”

“So, you had that all planned out?”

“No.  But a woman should be prepared for the unexpected display of her pussy at all times.”

“A woman, or a slut like you?”

“That’s right, Daddy.  Tell me what I am.”

“A slut.  A trollop.  A dirty, cheap, exhibitionist.”  I went on and she came to the cadence of my nasty names.  She came so hard she sqeezed me right out and squirted on the floor.  I grabbed my throbbing rod and watched.

“Can you hold it in for just one more?” she asked.  “I’ve got one more BIG orgasm to go.  Pleeeease, Daddio.  I know you haven’t cum in a long time.  Just hold it in a little longer and then you can cum all over my face.  Promise.”

“How do you want it?”

“Here,” she said, positioning me on the bed.  “Lie back.  I want to taste myself on you.”  She lay me down on the bed and got on her knees and went to town between my legs.  If she wanted me to withhold my orgasm until she had one more, this was not the way to do it.  I felt like her face was in imminent danger of being in the direct line of my fire.

She stopped just in time.  She knows me (or cock) well.  She went to climb up on top of me, straddling my body with her legs, her knees on the bed.  Before she lowered herself down on my very stiff and erect phallus, I said, “No.  Wait a minute.”  I closed my eyes.  Just looking at her may have put me over the edge.  I took deep breaths, but all I could think about was seeing her getting in and out of the hot tub the previous night.  Just the thought was enough to coax a slow orgasm out of me.  I tried to change the channel of my imaginings, but it was as if that special was playing on every station!

“Put a condom on me,” I said.

“What?” she asked in disbelief.  We never use condoms.  We only keep them around for her special guests.

“Put a condom on me.  It’s the only way.”

She hopped off, rummaged through the nightstand drawer, pulled out a string of condoms and hastily slid it over my ramrod.  The interval was a good distraction for me.  When she was done, she resumed her position and began bouncing up and down, pulling her tits.  The barrier between her dripping pussy and my hard, throbbing cock was just enough to keep me going without my going too far.

I reached up to her breasts.  “Pull and twist,” she said.  “Harder.”  I was stretching out her nipples by about an inch and then turning them clockwise a full 180 degrees.  She wanted more.  I pulled further, twisted further.  She was moaning and bouncing and dripping – I could feel it on my lap.

“When you cum, call his name,” I said.  I wasn’t sure if she heard me.  She was in a frenzy with her eyes closed tight, biting her lip, bouncing her tits up and down.  “Call out Mark’s name when you cum.”

No sooner had I repeated the instruction than she started yelling, “Oh FUCK!  Mark!  Fuck!  I fucking love your cock!  Mark!  Mark!  Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark!”  She was saying his name every time her hips descended down to bounce off of mine.  She was riding fast, at a gallop until she stopped, frozen, held it, and gushed a waterfall downward.  At that, I finally gave myself permission to cum and I did, filling the condom with all the pent-up desire that I had unspent over the past week.  It was amazing.

When we were done, after catching our breath like runners at the end of a marathon, we lay looking at each other.  “He really riles you up, doesn’t he?”

“Not like you, Daddio.”

“Lo, after all of that, don’t you think you can tell me the truth?”

“It’s true.  You’re the one for me.”

“But he turns you on.”

“A lot of things turn me on.  Does that make you jealous?”

“It would, except you’re right.  A lot of things do turn you on and if you weren’t turned on by Mel Brooks, Abbi Jacobson, and certain specimens of other species I actually might be jealous.  But due to your pansexual nature, I try to take it all in stride.”

“That’s why I love you, Daddo.  You really get me.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you rile him up as well.”

“Really?!  She said, her eyes lighting up, her body jumping to all fours like a puppy ready to play fetch.

“Yes.  Stephanie told me as much last night.”

“What?!  Tell me.  Tell me.”  Her imaginary tail was wagging with anticipation.

“When you were in the hot tub, playing footsie and showing off your tits. . .”

She interrupted with a long moan of pleasure at the memory.

“Stephanie and I were talking in the kitchen and she told me that she and Mark haven’t had sex since there second kid was born.”

“I knew that already.”

“And she went on to say that she thinks we’re a great couple and that Mark deserves to get his rocks off to the likes of you.”

“She said that?!”

“Well, not in so many words, but the message came through.”

Lola was running her tongue over her teeth in excitement now.

“Maybe you should clue him into the blog?”

I saw her wheels turning and the exciting prospect of having Mark getting to see Lola up close in all those sexy pics of her and hearing all about her nymphomaniacal exploits, jackin’ it to her every untoward adventure.  But then she said, “No.  Impossible.  We can’t reveal our secret selves to anyone we know.  It’s too incriminating!  You didn’t tell Stephanie, did you?”

“Of course not, dear.  That’s your story to tell.”

“Well, I did leave a calling card of sorts.”

“You left one of your Lola Down cards there?!  But you just said. . .”

“No no no.  I may have, accidentally, totally not on purpose left my panties at their house.”

“You what?!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  It was an accident.  I think they must have fell when I was picking up my clothes.”

“I’ve heard of Freudian slips before, but this takes the cake!  How could you not know you didn’t have your panties on?!”

“I knew I didn’t have them, I just couldn’t find them.  They must have fallen out somewhere when I bunched up my clothes after getting into the robe.  I don’t know.  Should I text Mark to look for them?”

“No!  Of course not.”

She gave me a quizzical look.

“Oh no, Lo.  Don’t tell me you already did.”

“I just didn’t want Stephanie to find them.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said he found them and could return them to me.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said, ‘That’s OK.  You can throw them out. . .or do whatever with them.”

“Lola!”  Now it was really Ricky and Lucy.

Pound

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6

Pound

 

“Don’t hug her, hug me!” Lola demands, picking up my pillow and chucking it across the room.

“Jealous much?  It’s a pillow, not a mistress.”

“Yeah, well, hug me, damn it.”

I cuddle up with her naked body.  I grab her by the curves just under her bellybutton and just above her puss.  I squeeze it.

“Stop,” she says.

“I love this part of you.  It’s my favorite.”

“Is it a FUPA?”

“A what?”

“Fat Upper Pussy Area?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“No, I don’t want to call it that!”

“You brought it up.”

“Cause you’re kneading me like dough.”

“Cause I knead you.  Get it?  I ‘knead’ you?”

“Yeah, I get it.  I still don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“I put on a pound or two.”

“And, if you ask me, you could put on a pound or two more.  I find you incredibly sexy!”

“You find my fat incredibly sexy.”

“I find all of you incredibly sexy.  What difference does it make what turns me on?”

She reaches down to feel me between my legs.

“Also, your pecker here was protruding into me all night,” she says.

“I know,” I say, “I was hard all night.”

“Then why didn’t you fuck me?”

“Because you were asleep.”

“First, so?  And second, it would have been preferable to this –”  She demonstrates by rubbing her hands up and down my chest rapidly.

“I did not do that to you all night.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I was asleep.”

“Well, I have come to the conclusion that the only reason you have such strong biceps is from all of this motion you do all night long.”  She performs the curling motion of her arm going up and down my chest.

“You may be right,” I humbly admit.

She reaches down between my legs again.  “Feels like that must hurt.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Well, what are you waiting for?  Fuck me.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.  Use me.  Go on.  Get your rocks off.  Get it all out of your system.”

She spreads her legs and reaches down with two hands and spreads something even more intimate.

“You look good.”

“Fuck me,” she commands.

I slide into her wet and waiting hole.  It didn’t take long before I pull out and, grabbing my cock, cum on her face.

“Feel better?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Much.”

I get up and clean up.  I eat breakfast and after breakfast I hear Lo calling me from the bedroom.  “Come!”

“Are you summoning me or giving me a real-time account of your activities?”

“Come!” is all I hear in response.  I follow the sounds and find her as I left her – naked and spread on the bed.

“Cuddle me, Daddy,” she says in her little-girl voice.

“Lo, I have to. . .”

“Just get into bed and hold me while I use my Hitachi.”

I climb into bed next to her, fully clothed, and hold her.  She puts the machine between her legs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t cum earlier,” I whisper to her.

“Oh, I did.”

“Really?  I didn’t even hear you.”  That was unusual.

“Yeah, well, I held it in because I was mad at you.  I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

“Why?”

“Cause I was mad at you.”

“I can’t believe you came.  I was so fast.”

“It turns me on when you pound me furiously, using me to get your rocks off.  I like being your fuck-toy.”

“Mine and everyone else’s.”

“Now shut up.  I’m trying to masturbate.”

“You know what I was thinking about when I came?”  No answer.  All I hear is the soothing hum of her Hitachi.  “I was thinking about you and me going on our vacation next month, finding that nude beach and walking down it together.  All the guys would see you in your birthday-bathing-suit and you’d lead them on.  They’d follow us and, as you’re lying on your blanket, you’d encourage them to jack it over you.  There’d be about six of them and they’d be jackin’ it to your naked body.  All of them would cum on you.  Some two at a time, some taking turns.  You’d be covered in jizz and then you’d proudly get up and walk slowly across the sand into the water to wash off.”

She clicks the Magic Wand into high gear and says, “Shhhhh.  No talking.  No talking while masturbating.”  And then she cums and cums hard.  Her knees shoot up into the air and she squeezes her legs together tightly.

I hold her as her whole body convulses and she lets out a stream of expletives.  Then I get naked and push her knees apart.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to fuck you,” I say.

“But. . .”

“But what?”

“But I just came.”

“I know that.  That’s why I’m going to fuck you.”

She no longer resists.  I try to penetrate her, but find I can’t.  “Is that the right spot?” I ask.

“Yeah.  Why?”

“You’re so tight.  I thought it was your ass.”

“I’m tight because I stopped my squirting.  I didn’t want to squirt.  I just changed the sheets.”

“Well, let me in.”

“Push and push hard,” she says.

I do as she commands and cannot believe the resistance I’m met with.  Once I am fully enveloped by her, I say, “That’s better.”  It’s as if a switch had gone off and she went from snug and still to stretched and swashing.  She cums again, harder than before.  I pull out, dripping wet from her.

“Aren’t you going to cum?” she asks, perplexed.

“No, darling.  That was all for you.”

“Please,” she begs.  “Cum on me just like you described those guys on the beach cumming on me.  Stand over me, you letch, and jack off hard to my naked body.”

I stand up on the bed and grab my manhood and stroke it furiously.  Her natural lubricant is all I need.  Her fingers are pulling at her pussy lips as she says salacious things to me.  “You like?  You like my pussy?  You want it old man?  You think you could satisfy me?”

I see her looking up at me, enjoying what she sees.  She continues to talk dirty.

“You know what I was thinking about when I came?” she asks.  “I was thinking that I wish that there was a way to go to the local animal shelter and say, ‘Do you have any unneutered dogs that need to get their rocks off?’  They’d lead me to a special room where women can go to be mounted.  They’d let in one, two, ten dogs, depending on how much I want to volunteer.  I’d get naked and on my knees and. . .”

Before her words form images in my mind, I cum like rain down on her tits, her chest, her neck, her face.  Just the sound of her words are enough.

“That’s it,” she says as her hand reaches up to touch my balls, feeling them as I ejaculate.  “That’s it.  Unload.  Feel better?  Good dog.  Now get back to the pound where you belong.”

Masturbation Monday: Creative Writing and Performance Art

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Creative Writing and Performance Art

 

I heard her typing as she sat across the couch from me, but I also heard her moaning.

“Lo,” I asked, looking over the brim of my book, “what are you up to?”

“Oh nothing, Daddy,” she said, but the biting of her lip that followed her response belied her words.

Now I looked more carefully.  Her hand was shifting from her computer keyboard to her crotch.  (She reclined on the couch in just her oversized nightshirt.)

“Care to share?” I asked.

“In just a moment,” she said, typing and masturbating in turn.

When she finally came – pressing her legs together tightly so as not to ejaculate – she slammed the laptop closed and then looked at me, blushing and panting.

“Yes?” I inquired.  “Can I help you?”

“You sure can,” she said, getting up and commanding me from her standing position to march into the bedroom.  She lifted the shirt that draped over her butt, revealing her sweet ass to me as she wiggled it enticingly.

I placed my bookmark between the pages and got up, knowing I was expected to perform.  Lo’s masturbatory exercises are more often than not just a warm-up for sex and her two or three orgasms that result from the sex are just a warm-up for her next masturbatory session.  In logic we call it a ‘vaginal-circle.’

Once horizontal in the bed, I asked her what this was all about as I aligned my cock with the opening between her legs and began to slide in.

“Don’t you believe in foreplay anymore?” she asked as she squeezed her tits and pulled on her nipples, extending them as far as they would stretch.

“What was your solo session on the couch just now if not foreplay?”

“Look,” she said, very demandingly, “look at these.”  She indicated her chest by taking her tits in her hands and squeezing them hard and pointing her nipples at me.  “Many men – and women – would love this rack in their face.”

“I see,” I said, impressed by her impertinence.  “And you too seem to enjoy them – enough for both of us!”

“Well, what are they for if not enjoying?  Here,” she said, pulling my hands to her nipples, “pinch, twist, pull.  Repeat.”

I humored her for a while as she moaned.  My fondling her breasts freed up her hands to pinch, twist, pull and repeat on her pussy lips – something that gets her very aroused.

“You may pet my ass now,” she said, rolling onto her tum and raising her bum in the air.

I slapped her ass hard and said, “That’s so you’ll come to your senses.”

“I cum to a lot of things.  Cumming to my senses is one, but cumming to your cock is more fun.”

“Then let me have you.”

“No.  Not just yet, Daddio.  Play with my ass,” she implored, grabbing her ass cheeks with both hands and showing me exactly the spot she wanted touched.  I obliged.  “Mmmm, yeah,” she cooed.  “I wish you could take a picture of that so I could see it.”

“You need one of those extension poles people carry with them nowadays,” I said, not knowing the proper terminology.

“It’s called a selfie stick.”

“Selfie stick?  Don’t you have a few of those under the bed?”

“Ha!” she chuckled, “Don’t make me laugh.  Not now.  I want to. . .”  She came, squirting downward on the bed.  The combination of the gentle caress of my finger rounding her target and laughing broke the dam.  “Finger me, Daddio.  Feel how wet I am.”

“Lo, I see how wet you are.  Let me feel you with my cock.  I’ll put in my dipstick and give you a more accurate reading of your fluids.”

“Oh, Daddy.  Why do you use such horrid metaphors?”

“Because, my dear, you’re like a BMW – it’s not the price, it’s the maintenance that will get you.”

“OK,” she said, flipping over onto her back, spreading her legs wide, looking up at me.  “How can I deny that raging rod?  Get in me and I’ll tell you what I was up to on the couch.”

She didn’t have to ask twice.  I was stem-to-stern in, our faces cheek-to-jowl.  She whispered in my ear:

 

Another hotwife found our blog and reached out to me.  She’s married to a fifty-year-old and she’s in her thirties.  She’s ‘very bi,’ as she says, and eager to be with a woman again.  And not just any woman, but a woman like me – dominant, sub, sexy, femme, who can give and take a giant cock.  She wants us to get together and I was just telling her how I fantasize it would happen.  After drinks in a hotel lobby, we’d go up to the hotel room.  Since her man is older than you (twice my age, in fact) and you’re older than she and she’s older by ten years than I, the three of you would marvel at me – this young meat.  You’d all be salivating, wondering who would get to have me first.  But I would have it all planned out.

In the hotel room I’d stand still in my heels, blouse, and short skirt.  I’d tell you that each of you gets to remove one article of clothing.  Only one.  We’d go in age order – youngest to oldest – and so she’d begin by slowly unbuttoning my blouse as I stood stone still.  One-by-one she’d undo the buttons until my blouse was wide open and then she’d slowly undo the buttons of the cuffs and ever-so-gently guide my arms out of the sleeves until I was standing in nothing but my bra on top.

Then it would be your turn.  You’d look me up and down and consider, ‘Shoes?  Blouse?  Bra?’  Generous guy that you are, you’d let them have the choice articles, so you’d go for unzipping my blouse and letting it fall to the floor around my feet.  I’d continue to be unmoving, like a manikin.

Then the older gent would have to pick – bra or panties?  Being a gentleman, he’d go for the bra and carefully unclasp it from the back.  His trembling hands would slowly, reverently pull down my shoulder straps and, thinking the bra would fall, he’d step back to watch his handiwork.  But I’d use my arms to keep it up so that he’d have to tug on it a bit to get it fully off of my torso.

Then it would be her turn again and she’d get on her knees and, using her long, delicate fingers, she’d pull down my thong little-by-little until it fell around my ankles.

I’d continue to stand still and say, in the same order, you may touch, pull, squeeze, grope, kiss – whatever you want.  It would all be very Marina Abramovic.  It would be your turn and so you’d come right up to me and kiss me on the lips, whispering, ‘I love you.’

Then it would be his turn and, thoroughly loving my young, perky tits, he’d cup them, caress them, hold them, squeeze them, pull on the nipples.  He’d step back, letting his wife approach.  She’d again get down on her knees and she’d ever-so-slightly kiss my pussy as her hands reached behind me and grabbed my ass.

This would go on for some time as each of you enjoy whichever part of me you wish.  Then I’d say, ‘Put me on the bed.’  The three of you would lift me and smoothly place me on my back on the bed.  I’d spread my legs and, since it would be her turn, I’d call her to me to place her face there and eat me out.

Next it would be your turn and you would go in, but only for a moment, before I’d say, ‘That’s all for you, HH.’

Then it would be his turn.  He would be allowed to penetrate me, but he’d have to wear a condom that his wife would put on – her hands pulling the ring down the shaft of his cock and pointing him right into me.  He’d have a good go at me for a while.

After each of you had a turn with me on my back, I’d turn over and get on all fours.  By this time she would have her strap-on fully in place and she’d fuck me good and hard from behind.  Then it would be your turn again, and finally his.  I’m sure I’d cum multiple times through this exquisite torture.  Finally, when I felt I couldn’t take it any longer, I’d flip over onto my back again and I’d have her get on her knees at the foot of the bed and eat me out while the two of you jacked it over my open mouth until you both came over me in unison.

 

The whole time she was telling me this story, I was barely moving inside her for fear of interrupting her lovely imaginings with my orgasm.  But that didn’t stop her from cumming and cumming again, each time having to take deep breaths before continuing her story.

“Is that what you were writing?”

“Yes, Daddy.  I know I’m bad.”

“And this admirer of yours?”

“She told me it made her cum a lot.”

“So, she wants to get together?”

“Yes.”

“And him?”

“I assume so.”

“And you?”

“I can’t wait.”

“So, this is your way of asking permission?”

“No, this is my way of telling you what’s going to happen.”

“So you want me to cum on your face.”

“Yes.  Badly.”

“Now.”

“Always.”

“That would prove difficult.  How about we start with now?”

“Yes.”

I pulled out and got on my knees next to her and she reached up, grabbed my cock, stroked it and it only needed one or two caresses of her hand before, seeing her open mouth, I shot like a bottle rocket.  The first spurt went clear across the bed.  She readjusted the aim and pulled my cock down towards her face and managed to get covered with the second, third, and fourth rounds.

“Had your fill?” I asked as she began to clean up.

“Did I ever tell you my bukkake fantasies?”

“Lo, I’m not up for any more fantasies tonight,” I said.

She grabbed my limp dick and said, “I can see that.  That’s why I have bukkake fantasies,” and she reached under the bed to pull out her toy box.

Nevertheless, She Persisted

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Nevertheless, She Persisted

 

It had been a long forty-eight hours.  It began with a business meeting out of town on Thursday morning.  It continued with a red-eye flight back Thursday night.  It concluded with a quick shower Friday morning, a change of suit, a coffee, a peck on the cheek hello to Lo as she slept, and then off to the office for back-to-back-to-back meetings all day Friday.  The fact that we were in the middle of a heat-wave didn’t help any of that.

Finally, around seven o’clock I returned home, sweat stains under my arms on my white dress shirt.  I stripped out of my suit, took a cool, refreshing shower, and changed into a t-shirt and pj bottoms.  I told Lo I was too tired even to eat dinner.  She pouted, but she understood.

I got into bed, the windows open with a gentle breeze blowing.  Before long, lying there on my back, hands behind my head, I had dozed off.  It couldn’t have been much later than eight or nine.

Lo, of course, was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed awake.  I heard her in the bed next to me.  I saw the blue glow of her computer screen as she tried to watch something unobtrusively with her earbuds in.

I heard her toss, I heard her turn and her presence weaved in and out of my dreams.  At some point I heard her in the shower.  Then I felt her in the bed next to me again.

A little later I detected her unbuttoning the crotch of my pj bottoms.

“No,” I said firmly from my light sleep.  She continued.  “Lo, no.”  She was undaunted.  “Lo, I said NO!”

Her hand was already in, her fingertips gently caressing my flaccid member.  I said nothing because the soft strokes felt good.

I then felt her tongue on the tip.  I was still soft.  I felt her lips envelope my whole organ.  I felt her tug and pull up and then get her mouthful as she went back down, her head bobbing with the motions.

I could hear her right hand slapping her pussy lips.  Then I could hear her hand plunging in and out of her puss with a splosh as she fisted herself, or so I imagined in my dreamlike state.

Soon she had crawled on top of me and was rubbing her pussy up and down my stiff cock.  I could feel her dripping down on me.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged.

I made no response.  She reached down between her legs and grabbed me and directed my shaft inside her.

My hands involuntarily reached up and squeezed her midriff.  “What are you?” I asked from my torpor.

“Horny,” she said.

“What are you?” I asked again as my hands kneaded her belly.

“Eager and wet.”

“What are you?” I asked a third time.

“I don’t know Daddy.”

“It starts with a ‘p-h,’” I said.

“Phenomenal,” she said.

“Try again.”

“Philosophical.”

“Again.”

“What, Daddy?”

“Say it.  Say it for me.”

“Phat.”

“Yes.”

“Phat, for whom?”

“Phat for you, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

She came all over my pj bottoms.

She then pulled up and off of me.  I thought that I was now free to return to my regularly scheduled programming – sleep and dreams.

“Get behind me and fuck your phat girl,” she commanded.

“Lo,” I began, as if begging to be relieved of duty.

“Get back there, Daddy.  I need it.”

I got behind her and slid in with ease.

“You’re so big, so wet, so loose,” I said.

“I know Daddy.  I’m so horny.  I’ve been masturbating all night.  I even took a shower to cum again.  I thought that would be it, but I need you.  I need your cock.”

“I can hardly feel you,” I said.

“I can hardly feel you,” she replied.

“Do you want me to put on my sheath?” I asked.

“No, Daddy.  I just want you, even if I can’t feel you.”  As if oblivious of what she just said, she then added, “If I had two cocks in me, then I might feel something.”

“I’m willing to share,” I said.  She came again to that thought.  Her pussy squeezed tight on my cock and pushed me right out, as she usually does in that position.

“Get back in,” she commanded.

I did as told.  I penetrated her as deeply as I could go and she let out a little moan, saying, “That’s it, Daddy.  Stay nice and deep.”

I could feel her Kegel muscles constricting around me.

“I think only a big dog with a good knot would be able to stay in you.”

With that one line, she came again, shooting me out again.

“Fuck me and fuck me fast and furious,” she commanded again.

I entered her and began thrusting in rapid fire.  I could hear and feel the splashing.  My heart rate was no longer a calm sixty beats per minute as it had been only moments ago when I was asleep.  I was up and awake now.

“Slow down!” she called.  “Stop!”

“What?  Why?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.

“I’ll squirt.”

I thrusted again as I said, “Good, I want you to squirt like a fountain.”

“No, Daddy,” she said, but it was too late.  She was squirting uncontrollably.  But she didn’t cum.  She was too wet, too slippery.  She didn’t stop squirting.  She tried to escape by crawling forward, but I didn’t let her.  I followed close behind.  She was no longer in control of her body.

“That’s a girl!” I said.

She reached both hands down between her legs to try to stop the geyser, but to no avail.

There was only one way for her to put an end to this hostile takeover of her body and she knew it and used it.

“Don’t cum, Daddy,” she said.  “Don’t cum!  Whatever you do, just don’t fucking cum.”

I pulled out and stood over her and came with as much force and power as she had all over her back.

“Never fails,” she said from beneath me.  “Now, clean me up and hurry, get some new bedding.”

After changing the sheets and blankets, throwing my pj bottoms and t-shirt in the laundry and lying back down in bed, her head on my chest, she asked, “Did you like that, Daddy?”

“Yes, little girl,” I said.

“What did you like?”

“How horny you were.  Why were you so horny?”

“I missed you.”

“Lo,” I said, skeptical.

“I missed you and I was watching naughty movies.”

“And so you thought it was ok to fuck me even though I was asleep?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  But you liked it?”

“Yes, ultimately.”

“What did you like?”

“Your persistence.”

“Nevertheless, she persisted,” she said.

“Well-behaved women seldom make history,” I responded.

“In bed,” she quipped.

Slut Lust

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Slut Lust

 

It was Thursday and Lo was late getting home.  She hadn’t texted or called or anything to say that she’d be late.  I had texted her around 7:00 to find out where she was and I got no response.  That was unusual, so I tried calling.  No answer.

Finally, around 8:00 she sauntered in the door.  Her hair was done and I saw right away that her nails were done.  “Where the hell were you?” I asked, not so nicely.

“I’m sorry, Daddio,” she said in her sweet little-girl voice, as she reached out to caress my chest.  “I went to get a haircut and then for a mani-pedi.”

“You could have called, texted, carrier pigeon, you know.”

“I’m really sorry.  It wasn’t a scheduled appointment.  I just walked in.  I didn’t know if they’d have time for me, so I didn’t tell you cause I didn’t know myself until I was already in the chair.  My phone was in my purse on the coatrack.”

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, suspicious.

“I’ll be right back.  I just want to change,” she said as she dashed off to the bedroom.

When she came back into the living room, she was just wearing her little black negligee.  She stretched out on the couch across from me and put her legs up with her toes close to my side.  “Do you like, Daddy?”

I looked down at them and they looked like ten pieces of shiny, pink candy.  “Yes,” I said, still sounding grumpy.

 

“Pet them,” she said, wiggling the little toes for attention.

I pet them and she cooed saying, “That’s right.”

“So tell me, what’s all this about?” I asked again.

She bent her legs at the knees in order to spread her legs a bit for me, displaying her lack of panties.  She stroked her pussy lips.  “Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Were you worried?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me?” she asked, running her tongue over her teeth and her lovely, manicured fingers deep between her pussy lips.

“Lo, answer the question.”

“What’s the question?”

“Why are you getting yourself all done up?”

“Well, if you must know, I have a date tomorrow night.”

“A date?  With whom?”

“Brian.”

“What?  I thought you said he was off limits – except in your imagination – because he’s a business associate?”

“Well, it’s not a date date.  It’s a business date, of sorts.”

“What does that mean?”

She was still stoking her pussy and spreading her legs wider now.  “Don’t stop playing with my toes,” she said.

I made sure to pay attention to her toes with my hand.

“We are working on a project together and he asked if I would like to talk about it over drinks tomorrow night.”

“Is that so?”

“MmmmHmmmm,” she moaned, followed by, “Are you jealous?”

“Should I be jealous?”

“MmmmHmmmm,” she moaned again and then she came.  It was a surprise orgasm.  It caught us both by surprise.  It just gripped her and suddenly her toes curled up, her left hand grabbed a pillow and clutched it with all her might and her right hand continued stroking her pussy.  After the convulsion had loosened just a bit, she managed to whisper, “Get a. . .” and she pointed.  I knew what she needed and I dashed to the linen closet, grabbed a plush terrycloth towel, and dashed back.  She stuffed it between her legs and released, squirting into it, letting her breath go, her body suddenly shaking and trembling with the force of her hysterical paroxysm.

When she calmed down, she said, “Put this in the laundry and then fuck me in the bedroom.”

I followed her instructions and when I entered the bedroom she was bent over the bed, her hands pulling her butt cheeks apart, prominently displaying her still dripping pussy.  “Slide right in, Daddy.”

I did so.

“How’s it feel?” she asked.

“Like fucking in a hot tub,” I said.  “You’re gushing.”

“Am I tight?”

“Not at all.  I can hardly feel you.”

“Do you think Brian will think I’m a slut?”

“Do you plan on fucking him?”

“You never know where drinks on a Friday night will lead.”

“Whether he thinks you’re a slut or not, I know the truth.”

“Tell me.  What is the truth?”

“You’re a horny, slutty, cock-hungry, strumpet!”

“Go on,” she said.  She was just warming up.

“A cheating little bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“A fucking whore who. . .” I didn’t get to finish because she was screaming louder than I was talking at this point.  She collapsed into the covers and was dripping down to her knees.  I could hear my cock splashing about inside her as I continued to thrust.

“Stop.” she said.

“What?”

“Stop!”

“But I’m. . .”

“I know.  You’re so close.  I want you to stop.  Pull out.  Don’t cum.”  She crawled away from me on the bed, leaving me hard-up, dripping wet with her cum.

She turned around and cleaned me off with her mouth and looked up at me.  “I want you to be very hard up when I get home tomorrow night.”

“I will be, even if you finish me off now,” I said as my hands reached down to weave my fingers in her thick hair and push her head back down on my dipstick.

“I want you to be desperate for me,” she said, resisting any more pleasure for me.

“Fine,” I said, angrily.

The next morning, Lo was up before I was, which is something very unusual.  She was already stroking it to Brian’s photos that she had found by searching him out on Facebook.  Just as I was stirring, her left hand grabbed and held my right wrist tightly as she again convulsed, pressing her knees together, clasping on her fingers between her legs, dropping her phone, biting down hard.  And then it was over.

“Morning Daddio,” she said pleased as peach.

“I want to fuck you,” I said.

“Nope.  Not till tonight,” she said and she got up and went into the master bathroom, sat on the pot with the door open and looked at me as she squirted into the bowl and then peed.  She knows that this is a real turn-on for me and she did it deliberately to arouse me.

She got up, bent over and flushed, went to the sink and began brushing her teeth, all the time popping her little ass out at me and looking over her shoulder to make sure I was watching her.

“Are you coming home before your date tonight?”

“Of course I am,” she said.

“So I’ll see you around five?”

“Yeah.”

Soon she was out the door going to work.  She texted me and asked, “Are you still hard-up for me?”

I texted back three eggplant emojis.

Later that day, Lo came home and, after a perfunctory little peck on the cheek, she removed all her clothes and hopped into the steamy hot shower.  I went to peek in and I was greeted by her yelling, “Get out!” as I saw her wearing her shower cap – something she hates to be seen wearing.

When she was out, she spent a good long time naked in front of the mirror doing her makeup.  Finally, she came into the bedroom where I was watching her and she said, “This sucks.”

“What?”

“Look,” she said, showing me the little dangling string between her legs.

“Today?!”

“Yes.  Can you believe it?  I got it hard and heavy.  I’m so fucking pissed.”

“Well, you weren’t planning on fucking him anyhow, were you?”

“When I go on a date I like to know that all options are open.”

“And all holes.”

“You’re so vulgar.”

“But right.”

“Yeah, so?”

She slid on a sexy little thong, put on her bra, and slid into her sexiest dress.

“Remember,” she said, as she put on her heels, “no cumming for you!  Not until tonight.”

“Have fun,” I said as she dashed out the door, already late for her six o’clock appointment.  “Remember,” I added, “not to mix business with pleasure.”

She turned around and, with a laugh, she said, “Darling, pleasure is my business,” as she smoothed out her dress over her curvy ass.

She left and with those parting words I thought about what a trollop she is.

Left to my own devices, or rather, my own vices, I poured myself a generous helping of scotch and ensconced myself on the couch with my computer to write.  Every so often, when I wistfully thought of my little lush Lo, I would pull up her photos to look at – and only through a manly act of willpower, prevent myself from pleasuring myself to them.

To my surprise, nine o’clock came and went.  Then ten.  Then eleven!  I didn’t dare text her because of some sadistic pleasure I took in the not knowing.  But where the hell was she?!

Finally, at eleven-thirty-five, I saw the lights of a car pull into the driveway.  It was Lo.  She walked in the door and looked at me on the couch.  “Hey Daddio,” she said as she sauntered up to me, leaned over and kissed me.  She then turned to walk toward the bedroom and as she did so, she slowly slid her dress up over her ass so that I could see her bare bottom.

“Hey,” I called after her, “you were wearing panties when you left!”  I got up and followed her to the bedroom where I managed to see her pull the dress up and over her head.  She undid the clasp on her bra and took it off just before turning out the light and hopping into bed.

“How was your night, Daddio?” she asked, purposely being coy about her night.

“Fine,” I said.

She reached down and pulled out my hard cock.  “Did you miss me?”

“What do you think?”

“I want to hear it.  Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“A lot.  Why are you so late and why don’t you have your thong on?”

She stroked my cock.  “Were you good or bad?”

“I think I should be asking you that.”

“I asked you first.”

“I was good.”

“Did you jack it?”

“No.”

“Did you look at porn?”

“Only yours.”

“Did you cum?”

“I told you, I didn’t jack it.”

“Yes, but you could cum just by looking at my porn.”

“That’s true,” I said upon reflection, “but I didn’t.”

“Good.”

“Tell me about your night.”

“Are you sure you want to hear?”

“Yes,” I said, bracing myself for whatever she might reveal.

“Well, we met over at the restaurant.  He was a perfect gentleman, even though it must have been obvious that I was a slut in lust.”

“Really?  And how do you define lust?”

“Oh, Daddio, I’m disappointed.  A writer like yourself should know that lust and slut are the same word, just slightly rearranged.”

“That’s true,” I said, pondering the similarities.

“Lusting is the desire to have someone’s body and to give them yours in return.  Sluts don’t limit themselves to just one.”

“And love?”

“Oh, aren’t you the romantic?  Love is wanting not just the other person’s body for one night; it’s wanting them totally and completely forever.”

“And you’re a slut in lust?”

“Yes.  And it turns out Brian lusts for a slut. . . just like me.”

“Really?”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

“Go on.”

She tugged on my hard shaft and reached down below, cupping my balls.  “Daddy, your junk is huge!”

“It’s been a while, Lo,” I said flatly.

“Don’t worry, ole man, you’ll get yours.”

“Can you continue your story?” I said, rather frustrated by the interruption.

“He was a perfect gentleman at dinner and we talked mostly about work stuff, but he did ask me some questions about my personal life.”

“Such as?”

“If I was dating anyone, who, how long – things like that.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth, of course.”

“There are many versions of ‘the truth.’  Which one did you tell him?”

“I told him that I’ve been dating you and that we have an understanding.  I let him know that I’m free to play.”

“And?”

“And he invited me back to see his place.”

“Really?”

“Are you jealous now?”

“Did you go to his house?”

“Of course!  Don’t be silly.”

“And?”

“He has a beautiful place overlooking the skyline of the city.  He offered me a drink and I accepted.  We sat on the couch and talked for a while, but then. . .”

“Then what?”

“Oh, it’s too embarrassing.”

“What?”

“Well, a good slut should never wear a thong when she has a heavy flow.  At least not without a spare!”

“Uh oh!”

“Yeah.  I had to get up and throw out my panties in his bathroom garbage.”

“So, you left your calling card!”

She hit my chest playfully.  “Don’t be so rude!  I’m a lady.”

“A slutty lady.”

“Nevertheless.  So, I went back out, drank the last of my drink and thanked him for a wonderful evening.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“And now?”

“Now I want you, Daddy.”

“Good, cause I want you too!  Spread your legs.”

“Uh-uh,” she said.

“What?”

“It’s too heavy for that.”

I was already between her legs and her hand had a firm grip on my member.  She was pushing it up and down, causing the tip to rub against her clit as she moaned.  I could feel how erect she was.

“But. . .” I protested.

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, “I like this.  Can I just give you a hand-job?”

“Sure,” I said, excited.  I was ready and willing to take anything.

She reached over to the nightstand, put some moisturizing lotion in her palm and grabbed me again, slathering up my hard rod.

“You just want me to get your rocks off like some animal.”

“Yeah,” I said.  “What kind of animal?”

“Like a big, horny dog.”

“Tell me about it.”

She was rubbing my slippery cock up and down her pussy and it felt at least as good for me as it did for her.  She didn’t go on talking, so I took the lead.

“What if you lived alone.  What if, after a hot and steamy date with a big, built, handsome guy like Brian, you came home all horny.  You came into an empty apartment.  Empty, except your faithful companion, your dog who has been waiting loyally for you to return.”

“A big dog, Daddy?”

“Yes.  A Doberman.  He gets all happy and excited when you walk in and his little tail starts wagging, but you’re so horny that you just need to jump into bed and start masturbating.”

“You’re bad, Daddy.”

“You get naked and he hops up on the bed next to you.  He smells that you’re in heat and he gets between your legs.”

“Does he lick me?”

“Yes, and he’s a big dog and you never had him fixed, so his balls are huge and his cock grows at the slightest hint of your scent.  You can see his giant erection as you stroke your pussy.  You feel bad for him cause he has no bitch to get him off.  He has to go so long without any sexual relief.  You don’t want him to accost your guests.  You want him to be a good dog.  You don’t want him to hump your leg if Brian comes over, so you try to take care of him.  You reach down between his haunches and you grab his cock with your hand.”

“Like this, Daddy?” she asked as she rubbed me up and down.

“Yes,” I said, moaning because her grip and slip felt so good.  “You feel how big and hard it is and it reminds you of Brian.  You just like having eager dick near you, no matter the type.  You like that he’s big and hard-up.  You know you have the power to make him feel better.  You stroke him up and down with your right hand as your left is stroking yourself.  He’s eager to get between your legs, like he has before, but you don’t let him this time.  You do all the work with your gentle, but firm hand.  He begins to thrust, sliding in and out between your slippery fingers and thumb.  You know he’s close.  You begin to cum yourself and just as you do, he ejaculates all over you!”

As I said it, she was cumming.  I was cumming.  We were cumming and cumming hard!  After I was done, she leaned forward, took my cock in her mouth, and licked it clean.  I thought about how that would make the perfect end to my little bedtime story.

I got up out of bed and grabbed a towel from the bathroom and returned to clean up my mess from her chest and belly.

“Hey,” she called out, “what are you doing?!  It’s not a spill in isle eight!”

“Look, little girl,” I said, “your hound wouldn’t be able to do this for you.  Accept the kind gesture with grace.”

“My hound would have licked me clean,” she said.

“Touché!”

Sin-esthesia

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Sin-esthesia

 

“Daddy, fuck me,” she said.  I had been in bed for at least an hour before she joined me.  I had read, trying to stay awake until she got home, but reading a book in a reclining position while sipping a whiskey at midnight on a Friday is simply not the best way to stay awake.  I had fallen asleep sometime around 12:30.  Lo was out with her friends.  I hadn’t heard her come home or enter the bedroom.  I hadn’t heard her remove her clothes, get ready for bed, or slip under the covers.  All I heard was her whisper into my ear, “Daddy, fuck me.”

Some people say hello when they get home.  Some people say good night when they get into bed.  Some people don’t wake their partners when their partners are asleep and they come home in the a.m.  But Lo says, “Daddy, fuck me.”

I don’t recall what inarticulate grunt of a response I made, but Lo was dismayed at the rebuff.  Lo, being the extrovert that she is, gets energized from time out with friends.  I, on the other hand, being an introvert, declined the invitation to go out with others.

Being fully aroused by her night out on the town, she was not nearly ready for sleep.  She pulled out her phone and then I heard her talking to me again.

“Hunter wrote to me.  He has a new girl.  He sent me pictures.  Do you want to see, Daddy?”

I didn’t respond.  I heard her pull out her Hitachi.  I heard the familiar buzz of its vibration.

“Mmmmmm,” she moaned, “she’s very hot.  Oh, and he sent a few pics of him too.  He’s grabbing his long cock.  He says his new friend is eager to be with a woman and guess what Hunter is suggesting?  That’s right, he wants me to join.  What do you think of that?  Would you be upset if I had a threesome with them?  Would you feel left out if I went over there and got fucked by the two of them and you were all alone?”

I heard her put down the Magic Wand and tap out something.  I rolled over.

“What are you telling him?” I asked.

“Oh, now you’re awake?”

“Thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What are you telling him?”

“I’m suggesting some times that we could meet.  I’m also asking if he would build a milking table for us so that she and I could be under it sucking and tugging on his long cock.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

“Let me see,” I said, about the new girlfriend.

“No.”

“Let me see.”

“If you want to see, get behind me and fuck me.  You can look over my shoulder. . . if you’re good.”

I grabbed my reading glasses from the nightstand and got up and slid right into Lo’s wet pussy.

“That’s it, Daddio.  Get in there deep,” said Lo as she held up the phone and displayed the pics of Hunter’s new affair.

“You want her?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“You want to. . .”  I didn’t even have time to finish my second question before Lo came with gusto.

“Fuck, I was horny!” she said.  She fell forward into the pillow and slipped her pussy off of my shaft.

“You just used me,” I complained.

“So?”

“My cock was nothing more than a dildo or your Hitachi.  A two minute orgasm.  Isn’t that right?”

“Yep.  But you were better than the dildo or Hitachi.”

“Only because with me, you had your hands free to look at Hunter’s pornographic pictures.”

“Right again.”

“And now that you woke me from a deep sleep, you’re going to leave me high and dry.”

“More like hard-up and wet, but yeah.  I’m so tired all of the sudden.”  She was already almost asleep.

“Unbelievable.”

“Jack it.”

“No.”

“Why not?  You can cum on me.”

“No.”

“Please.  I love it when you jack it.”

“You love it when anyone jacks it.”

“And when you cum on me.”

“You love it when anyone cums on you.”

“Hunter jacked it and came on me.”

“I know that.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to.”

“You’re really going to sleep.”

“I can’t help it.  But I give you full permission to fuck me while I’m sleeping.”

“Oh, blanket consent, huh?”

She was asleep now.  I tried to go back to sleep, but couldn’t.  Her naked body next to me was too tempting.  I slowly got behind her, put my warm body down on hers, and wiggled my way inside her still wet cunt.  She didn’t move.  She didn’t wake.  I propped myself up on my elbows on the pillow and slowly slid back and forth inside her.  I turned on her phone and saw the email from Hunter.  He wrote to her, “Still turning heads and dropping pants, darlin’?”

She wrote back, “I’m still dropping my pants and giving head.”

Their banter went back-and-forth.  I thought of what a little slut my girl was and as I did, I came deep inside her.  I collapsed on the bed next to her and fell into a deep sleep.

The next morning, just prior to waking, I found my hands gliding gently over her naked skin, feeling the roundness of her bum and the curves of her breasts.  As they hovered over the surface of her body, they transmitted to my dreaming mind an image, like a blind man reading braille.

This had the dual effect of making my cock stiff and waking Lo from her slumbers.  She looked at me and I looked at her and said, “I love seeing you with my hands, feeling you with my eyes, caressing you with my tongue, evoking you through olfaction.  I love to know you through our bodies.  I love to get physical with you in my imagination.”

She said, “Well, how about you fuck me with your cock?”

“That works too!” I said as I got behind her and gave her what she wanted.  As I slid in, she said that my caresses during the night gave her wild sex dreams.  “I’m so wet!” she said.  “All night I’ve been dreaming of people using me, fucking me, fucking every one of my holes.  You, Hunter, his girlfriend, strangers.”

“Well, one of those happened,” I said.

“What?”

“You said I could fuck you even if you fell asleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I did.”

“You did?” she asked, and as the thought of it filled her mind, she came, gushing all over me.