“Lo!” I called from the bedroom into the bathroom through the closed door. “LO! What are you doing in there?!” As if there were any question, really.
“Grrrrr, you’re not helping, you know!” came the response. “This water pressure sucks!”
“Jim will be here in fifteen – no, ten minutes.”
You see Jim, of the “doppelganger” couple, was to come over for brunch that Sunday morning. Lilly, his girlfriend, was out of town for a week and he had called me and asked if I would have time to talk. When I told him that Lo and I were free Sunday morning, he clumsily apologized and said, “Oh, I meant just you and me. I’m going through something and I. . .”
He was clearly uncomfortable and I felt bad for my assumption. I didn’t put him through having to explain it all on the phone, so I simply said, “No worries. Come on over at eleven and we’ll have the place to ourselves.”
Well, now it was ten to eleven Sunday morning and Lo had been in the shower, no doubt sitting on the tub’s floor with the showerhead between her legs, for the better part of half an hour. She was supposed to be out of the house by now and I was getting irritated by the lack of consideration. When I presented the plans to her, in typical Lola fashion she took umbrage at not being the center of attention. “What could he possibly have to say to you that I can’t hear? Do you think he’s breaking up with Lilly? Do you think she left him?”
“Lo,” I said, “I don’t know. But I do know that he’s a friend in need and I will find out the whole story on Sunday.”
“Well,” she said, insulted, “I have two ears just like you do. I’m a good listener. I can dole out advice. I’m a comforting soul.”
“All of that is true, Lo,” I said, “but, hard as it is to believe, maybe he needs to talk man-to-man.”
“Harrumph!” she said, dramatically, “I could have a penis too, if I wanted one. I’ve got like four or five different strap-ons under the bed. Maybe if I had a penis he’d want to talk to me.”
“Lo, most men want to talk to you most of the time – penis or no penis. Can’t you accept that this one time a guy wants to talk to me. . . alone?”
I got her to promise that she’d let us alone for a few hours so that I could hear whatever it was that Jim had to say to me. But now she was dangerously close to intruding upon that precious one-on-one time.
The bathroom door opened, releasing a plume of steam into the bedroom. From within the cloud, the naked body of Lola appeared like the epiphany of a goddess out of heaven. Under normal circumstances, this would be the perfect opportunity to bend her over the edge of the bed and get on my knees to worship her posterior. But we had a guest – no, correction, I had a guest – scheduled to arrive in mere moments.
“You like, Daddy?” she asked, seeing me soak her visage in with my eyes.
“Lola,” I said in my Ricky Ricardo to Lucy voice.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here in a jiffy!”
I took her word for it and went into the kitchen to take out the ingredients for the brunch I was preparing. The doorbell rang and I welcomed Jim in, explaining that Lo is just getting a bit of a late start. He greeted me with a smile and a bottle of champagne, “For mimosas,” he said.
“Wonderful idea! Shall I pour two now?”
“It is brunch time,” he said.
I went into the kitchen and popped the cork and poured the bubbly in two long-stem glasses with OJ. The kitchen is half-way between the living room and the bedroom. From where I was in there, I could hear Lo beginning to moan. I hastily grabbed the two glasses and returned to the living room where I said, “Some music?” I turned on a Sunday blues station louder than was necessary, exclaiming, “I love this song!”
“Oh, who is it?” asked Jim.
Truth be told, I had no idea. I just wanted something to drown out the inevitable cries of pleasure that would reverberate down the hallway. “I forget, but I haven’t heard it in a long time,” I said as I felt beads of sweat on my brow.
We sat in the living room talking in raised voices over the music, just catching up with each other since it had been a while since we last spoke in person.
“Refill?” I asked when I saw his glass was empty.
He passed me his glass and I went to the kitchen. I went to refill his glass and quickly darted over to the bedroom where I peered in the door. Lo was naked on the bed, Hitachi between her legs. She looked over at me and whispered, “Sorry.”
“Are you done?” I whispered back, accusingly.
“Yes, Daddy.”
I closed the door and brought out the mimosas to the living room, turning down the music now. We chatted some more and then Lola walked into the room wearing her thin, tight, black yoga pants and a crop top, exposing her midriff.
“Hi Jim,” she said, flirtatiously.
“Hi Lola!”
“Don’t mind me. I’m just on my way to the gym for a yoga class. I know you boys want your time alone. I just have to get my gym bag.” Though her gym bag was in the hall leading to the living room and she could have simply picked it up, she made a production of turning around, bending over, protruding her tail in the air and then picking it up. It was a classic stripper move designed to provide the best view for Jim.
“Doesn’t that class start at eleven?” I asked facetiously. “You’d better get a move-on.”
“I’ll hightail it there, D—” She almost said “Daddio,” but stopped herself mid-consonant. “Don’t worry about me,” she stammered. She gave me a kiss goodbye and was finally out the door.
I observed with keen interest how Jim’s eyes followed Lo’s ass as she sauntered away.
When she was definitively gone, I got up and said, “Want to accompany me as I prepare the brunch?”
He followed me into the kitchen where I sliced and diced, fried and prepared the meal as he made some small talk. We sat down, ate, drank some more mimosas, and then, finally, he got to that which was on his mind.
“You know that Lilly is in Miami now,” he said.
“Yeah, how’s that going?”
“Well, she’s been away for four days and. . .”
I thought he was going to tell me that they had broken up and she wasn’t returning back, even though – or perhaps because – they had just moved in together. But that’s not where he was going with this.
“Well, you might not know this,” he continued, “but she and I are in an ‘open’ relationship.” He made air-quotes around “open.” No. No, I had not known that. Does he know about Lo and me? I hadn’t told him. Had Lo? Why bring this up with me? Had he found our blog? So many things ran through my mind at that moment.
“Until now,” he continued, “it really was an understanding between us, an operating principle, but it wasn’t put into practice.”
“Ah ha,” I nodded, indicating my understanding.
“But she called the other night – it was the first night she was down there – and she asked if she could sleep with a guy she met at the bar.”
“Oh,” I said. “And?”
“That’s just the thing – I was already asleep. I didn’t get the message until the next morning and by then it was too late.”
“Too late?” I didn’t know if he meant the opportunity had come and gone or if the opportunity had cum and stayed.
“Yeah.”
“What happened? Did she?”
He swallowed hard and admitted, “Yes. She didn’t hear back from me and, operating on our understanding, she slept with him. She did try to ask permission and she waited for a reply,” he said in defense of her before I even had a chance to react.
“How are you doing with that?”
“That’s just the thing, I’m doing horrible with it.” The distress was clear on his face.
I still hadn’t figured out why he had chosen to confide in me about this.
“What, exactly, is upsetting you about it?”
Let’s be clear here, in most situations if a fella came to his friend’s house and told him that he just found out that his girlfriend had slept with another man, there wouldn’t be any question as to what, exactly, was upsetting about it. But this wasn’t most situations. He got that and I did too.
“When I agreed to an open relationship, I did so because I knew that that was what she was used to and what she wanted. It was at the beginning of our relationship when you feel like nothing could derail the connection. But. . .” He took a deep drink of mimosa and I refilled his glass. “But since then we’ve had some issues. . .” Long pause again. “Intimacy. She says that we don’t connect sexually and spiritually. She says she loves me in every other way, but. . . and this is really hard to admit, she’s just not satisfied with my performance in bed. So, to hear about her with another man, it’s driving me nuts!”
I thought to myself, “You can either let it get to you or embrace your inner cuck and love your hotwife for who she is.” I didn’t say that to him, of course. I just lent a compassionate ear to his tale of woe. I gave some worldly advice, perhaps revealing more about myself and my relationship with Lola than I had intended, but not stating anything explicit about my relationship with her. I was eager to find out the root of their sexual disconnect, but careful not to pry. I knew that, had Lo been there – had she been the Lady Confessor – she would have been able to coax it out of him.
No sooner had I thought this than in the door appeared Lo. Jim put on his best smile and greeted her. “How was the yoga class?”
“So good,” said Lola. “How was your brunch?”
“We’re just finishing up,” said Jim as he cleared his plate and, as it seemed to me, hastily began to say goodbye.
As soon as he was out the door, Lo looked at me and said, “Did I scare him off?”
“I think you did,” I said, as surprised as she by the abrupt departure.
“Good,” she said, “now we’re alone. Tell me everything!”
“First, young lady,” I said in a scolding manner, “you have a lot of explaining to do.”
Hearing my rebuking tone, she turned tail and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy, spank me!” She bent over in her yoga pants and put her bum in the air. I gave her a good, hard, thrashing with my flat, open hand. It was clearly having an arousing effect upon her.
“Why are you spanking me, Daddy?”
“First,” I said, giving her bum a whack, “for jilling it in the shower. Second” and another whack, “for being late out the door. Third,” Whack! “for jilling it in bed. Fourth,” Whap! “for walking out in those yoga pants.”
“You noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“I think you know.”
“Your cameltoe?”
“So you did notice? I didn’t wear any panties under the yoga pants. I pulled them up tight so that when I walked out my pussy, with all its clearly outlined folds, would be eye-level with Jim as he sat in the living room.”
WHACK!
“Yes, Daddy,” she said, licking her lips at the pain and pleasure. “I was bad. I purposely teased him. Did you like that?”
I pulled down her yoga pants and spanked her bare bottom now. “Fifth, for returning so early and teasing him again!”
“Take me in the bedroom and tell me what happened.”
I took her and told her the whole story. She masturbated to each detail and then said, “Do you think he came to you because he suspects I’m a hotwife?”
“Yes,” I said, “and not only that, but I think that what’s really going on is he’s feeling threatened that Lilly will get all the action and he’ll get none. I think his coming to me was his way of asking permission if it would be ok to fuck you, just so he can play too.”
“Really?!” asked Lo, very excited. “What makes you think that?”
“Just my gut. But I think he’s way too shy or uptight to actually come out and say it.”
“Do you think he has a small cock? Or trouble getting it up? Or. . .”
“Lo, I really don’t know. I haven’t put too much thought to it, but I’m sure you could be the cure to whatever ails him.”
“Oh, Daddy, hurry up and get in me!”
As soon as I had penetrated her puss to the hilt, she came in waves, gushing all over me. It took nothing more than that initial lance before she was convulsing upon my hard shaft. When she was done, she asked, “Did he like your brunch?”
“I think he would have preferred to have your naked peaches and cream.”
Original art by Jo Koss
