Feed it to Me

Faye Danielles Getting Off to Lo’s Pics

 

“I’m having a dinner party on Friday,” said Robert to Lo as he was about to depart from one of his rendezvous romps with Lo in our bedroom.  She was standing naked in the hallway and I was opposite her, fully dressed, holding a tumbler of whiskey.  Robert was between us, but facing Lo.  “I was hoping you both would come,” he continued as he turned to me.

Lo walked up to him, a sparkle in her eye, and grabbed his arm.  “That sounds like fun,” she said, without even consulting me or my calendar.  “Who’ll be there?”

“It’s a group of colleagues from Australia.  They’re here for a conference and my department nominated me to welcome them.”

“Australia!” Lo exclaimed.  “I love going down under.”

“You’ve never been there,” I said, without thought to her double-entendre.

“I can’t wait,” she said without regard for my remark.  “What time is the party?”

“I’ve invited people for seven,” he said, and before he could say any more Lo interrupted.

“We’ll come over at five!  I love party planning!”

“But. . .” stammered Robert.  “I was just inviting you to. . .”

Lo grabbed his arm and said, “A bachelor like you needs help throwing a party.  Trust me.  It takes a woman’s touch.”  She leaned in closer to him and kissed him, her naked body pressed against his clothes as her left hand reached down and stroked his cock over his pants.  “We’ll see you at five.”

Robert turned, nodded to me, and left in a rush, slightly embarrassed perhaps.

Friday Lo left work early and spent time at home getting all dolled up.  By the time I walked through the door, she was wearing her black pumps, her short black skirt, and a low cut, tight fitting blouse.  Her red lipstick stood out against all the black.

“Hi Daddio!” she said, “I thought you’d never get home.  Are you ready to go?”

“I guess,” I said.

“Oh no,” she replied, looking me over.  “You can’t go like that.  Here, let me dress you.”

She led me to the bedroom where she promptly picked out exactly what she wanted me to wear.

“No, not that.  I can’t stand that shirt,” I said.

“It looks great on you.”

“It’s too constricting.”

“We can’t all wear sweats all the time you know.”

“Just anything but that.”

“Fine,” she said, picking out an equally disliked shirt.  I made no argument because I could see her determination.

“You just like me because I’m like you’re little plaything that you can dress up, take out, and show off,” I said.

“I could say the same about you, but I dress myself up, take myself out, and show myself off.”

“Touché.”

We left and Lo was very anxious and eager in the car.  She kept rubbing my crotch as I drove and talking about the party.  At some point I turned to her and said, “You know, Lo, it’s not planned to be a gangbang?”

“Who says?” she pouted.

We arrive just before five.  Robert had four grocery bags full of food on the kitchen table.  His plan included baking fish, a pasta side-dish, and a pie, as well as lots and lots of appetizers.  Lo dove in, but before getting to work, she said, “I don’t want to get my outfit dirty while prepping.”  She stripped down naked, but for her heels, and put on a cooking apron.  Where it tied in the back revealed her sexy sweet ass.  She was the picture of domestic bliss.

Lo was fast, efficient, and knew exactly what she wanted.  Both Robert and I fumbled to keep up with her.  But eventually we had everything laid out nicely, ready to receive Robert’s international cadre.

Surveying the open-plan living room and dining room, Lo seemed well pleased with her accomplishment, but then she said, “I just realized, I’m starving.”  Between the kitchen and the dining room there was a tall half-wall that had a number of appetizer dishes laid out on it.  Lo bent over and leaned on the wall, looking at the appetizers.  As she did, her right hand moved down, behind her cooking apron and to her ass where Robert, who stood behind her could see.  She added, “And I’m horny.  Robert, are you up to fuck me?” she asked as she slapped her ass loudly to get his attention, as if he wasn’t already staring at her cunt.

Without a word, as if her ass slap was a special language between them, he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock.  As he approached her from behind, she looked up at me and said, “Daddy, feed me.”

I was standing in the kitchen and saw her open her mouth.  I picked up one of the small hors-d’oeuvre’s and raised it to her lips.  She bit her lip as Robert entered her, but then she opened wide and took the whole thing.

“Feed me,” she commanded again as Robert was going at her from behind.

I selected a different delight for her.

Robert grabbed onto her waist.  I continued to feed her and I said, “Lo, you want me to make you plump?”

“Yes Daddy.  I want to be phat for you.  I want to be soft and doughy.”

I continued to feed her and Robert continued to fuck her.

“Lo,” I said as I watched her tum and tits jiggle beneath her as Robert thrusted from behind, “I love your fat, your flab, your rolls, your chub, your pudge, your every delightful round, juicy, plump, perfect curve.”

She came.  Then she said to me with a breathy voice, “Get me that.”

At first I didn’t know what “that” was, but she pointed.  It was a bottle of extra virgin olive oil.  I went to pass it to her, but she just held out her hand and said, “Pour.”  I put a little in the palm of her hand.  She reached back and applied it to her special spot.

“Robert,” she said, “You may have my ass now.”

Lo knew very well how, as permissive as I am, the granting of that one reserved pleasure makes me jealous.  I should be the one to get the benefit of her ass.  But I let her have her way.  He entered her slowly as she guided him with her slippery hand.  She moaned.  He said, “Lo, you’re so tight.”

“Feed me!” she commanded me again.  I obeyed.  By this point the cooking apron’s knot had come untied and was drooping beneath her, only held up by the collar around her neck.  Her tits were flopping forward and back as Robert thrust with strong movements deep in her ass.  I saw her hands grab onto the marble of the countertop as she braced for a powerful orgasm.  Robert began to moan loudly as he was on the cusp of cumming in her ass and Lo squeezed her knees together and held on tightly to the marble.  She squirted all over Robert’s legs and the floor as he pulled out.  Then Lo either decided or instinctively did something to get my ire up (and something else up).  She turned round rapidly and got on her knees to take Robert’s cock in her mouth and let him explode there.  She was still squirting on the floor in spurts and, when Robert finally pulled out of her hungry mouth, she collapsed in her own lady juices on the hardwood floor.  Her legs were like jelly now.  She squirted again as she said, “Holy fucking shit!” with both hands between her legs in a futile attempt to stem the flood.

Lola

Robert ran to the bathroom and got a few towels.  He and I both helped Lo up and onto the couch, careful to place another towel under her before setting her down.

Robert dutifully cleaned up the mess on the floor and I gently kissed Lo’s forehead until she had regained some of her strength.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Robert cheerfully.

I removed Lo’s wet shoes and got a few paper towels to dry them off and clean them up.

Soon enough everything was neat and tidy again.  Lo went to the bathroom to change back into her party outfit and spruce up a bit, leaving Robert and me alone.

“You know, you have an amazing woman,” he said.  “Not only is she a fucking crazy nympho, but she can cook and host a party.”

“She’s pretty smart, too,” I added.

“That goes without saying,” he replied.

When Lo returned to the room, she looked ravishing.  Even if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, her glow said, “I just got fucked beyond consciousness.”  Too bad she had already been ravished by Robert and the guests were due soon, meaning I would be hard up the rest of the evening.

While she and Robert were in the living room and I in the kitchen, she said something to him I couldn’t hear.  Then she came to me and was very demure.

“Daddy?” she opened.

“Yes,” I said without a hint of emotion, which gave away that I was very emotional.

“Are you mad?”

“No, Lo,” I said, perhaps lying, though I really didn’t know my own feelings.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I hesitated, but she came close and kissed me, open mouth, with lots of tongue.

When she was done, I said, “Well, wasn’t that just the coup de grâce?”

She replied, “You mean crudités?”

“I don’t know, was taking his cock in your mouth right from your ass merely an appetizer, or was it the final blow?”

“Well,” she said with a wicked smile, “I hope not final!”

She kissed me again and grabbed my package as she did saying, “Admit you liked it, Daddy?”

I said nothing, but my silence gave me away.  I couldn’t both feign anger and be aroused at the same time, and the two contradictory feelings in me were wreaking havoc on my tortured soul.

Then she revealed to me the plan she and Robert had concocted together.  Actually, that’s not fair.  I’m sure that it was all Lo’s idea.

“Daddy,” she began, gently grabbing my arm.

“Yes?”

“If it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”

Living the Dream


Image by Timo Schmidt, Model: Lola Down

            It was the first of the month.  Lo and I have a little tradition of saying “Rabbit, rabbit,” to each other on the first of the month.  I woke up next to her and I whispered it to her. 

            “More like ‘grab it, grab it,’” she replied.

            “What?  Why?”

            “Because, you were clinging to me all night, grabbing my tits, stroking my puss.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said.

            “Don’t be,” she retorted, “I liked it.  But it gave me crazy dreams.”

            “Like what?”

            “I dreamed that we were on vacation in Hawaii with our friends.  We had rented a minivan, but I just needed to get off.  The minivan was old, loud, and rumbly.  I pulled out my Hitachi from my suitcase and began using it.  I was about to cum when someone noticed.  So I put it away.”

            “That’s not like you.”

            “Yeah,” she said, “it was a dream.  Next thing I knew, we were on the beach and my Hitachi was in my hand.  I put it down my bikini bottoms.”

            “There are no electrical outlets on the beach.”

            “It was a dream.”

            “Right.”

            “And I was about to climax when I opened my eyes and suddenly saw that there was a crowd of people surrounding me, watching me.  So I stopped again.”

            “Again, not like you.”

            “This starting and stopping, edging and trying again went on a lot.”

            “Do you want to get off now?”

            “So badly.”

            “Do you want your Hitachi or me?”

            “Tough question.”

            “Which do you like more?”

            “My Hitachi.”

            “Really?”

            “Then you.”

            “Oh.”

            “Then my Hitachi again.”

            “I see.”

            “My Hitachi is like icing on the cake.  No matter how good the cake is, you always want icing after it.”

            “But you said your Hitachi first.”

            “Well, you always want icing.  But just icing isn’t as good as icing with cake.”

            “So, what do you want now?  Do you want your Hitachi as I jack it over you?”

            “That sounds good.”

            She pulled out her Hitachi from under the bed.  She turned it on.  She spread her legs and placed it between them.  I was on my knees over her, pulling at my long, hard shaft, watching her every move. 

            “You know,” I said, “I had a dream too.”

            She didn’t reply.

            “I dreamt that you were out on a date with a tall, think, dark Jamaican man with long dreadlocks.  I found the two of you in the front row of a movie theater making out.”

            “The front row?” she asked.  “That’s a bit conspicuous.”

            “It was a dream.”

            “I like it.”

            “And then I came home and found the two of you on the couch, still making out.”

            “Were you jealous?”

            “No, I was turned on.”

            She came, squirting all over my knees. 

            “Come here,” she said, as she rolled over on her tum.  “Get inside me.”

            I slid right in with my tum pressed on her back.

            “Do I feel tight or loose?”

            “You feel loose and wet.  Very wet.”

            “Fuck me harder.”

            I thrust with more force.

            “Daddy, please, fuck me.  Fuck me harder.”

            “I would, but I’m afraid I’ll push you right into the headboard.”

            “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, “Just fuck me with everything you got.”

            I pushed into her repeatedly.  As I predicted, her head was banging the headboard of the bed with a rhythmic pounding.  She just called out, “Yeah, yeah, harder!  Don’t stop.  Fuck.  I’m going to squirt.  Stay in there.  Don’t. . .”

            She began squirting and her cunt convulsed on my cock, squeezing me right out.  It’s damn near impossible to stay in her when she has an intense orgasm like that. 

            “Hurry up,” she said, “Get back in me!”

            “I can’t,” I complained, “You’re all clenched up.  Try to relax.”

            She did, which unleashed a gush of more juice, soaking the sheets. 

            “I want you to cum,” she said as she backed her ass up and slid her puss over my pole again. 

            “You liked my dream?” I asked.

            “Yes.  Maybe you were holding me so tightly that our dreams were interwoven.”

            “Are you cumming again?” I asked. 

            “No, not yet.”

            “Good, don’t.  Flip over,” I commanded.

            She turned onto her back and spread her legs.  I pulled out my dripping rod and stroked it back and forth.

            “What are you doing?” she asked.

            “Playing foosball.  What’s it look like I’m doing?  I’m stroking myself to your amazing body.”    

            She grabbed her Hitachi again and put it between her legs as she watched me.  “Just like the guys on the beach,” she said. 

            With that thought, I began to cum.  She saw what was happening, and like an acrobat, she swiveled her body around so that her face was now under my balls and she put out her tongue to catch might release.

            When I was done and she had a grin on her face, I said, “A nutritious breakfast.”

            “Yeah, but now I’m in the mood for cake with icing and pancakes.”

            “Pancakes?”

Or, see me and cum.

            “Or at least pancake batter, cause that’s what your cum reminds me of.”