NILF


Do you want your tie back too?

            “How have things with Linda been?” inquired Lo.

            “OK,” said Robert with a tone of disappointment.

            “Why just OK?”

            “She has one boyfriend in Naples, another in Amsterdam, and then she toys with me.”

            “Toys with you?” Lo’s ears perked up.

            Robert had made an excellent meal for Lo and me even though we had dropped in on him unexpectedly.  He is a very generous and hospitable man and he opened a bottle of wine for Lo as he and I enjoyed an excellent bottle of Scotch.  It was so good and so smooth that, before we knew it, he and I were on our fourth already.  It hit me all at once and I suddenly realized that I was having difficulty seeing straight.  

            “We Skype with each other once a week.”

            “Ooooh,” squealed Lo, “Skype sex.”  Her tongue slid over her front teeth.

            Robert blushed, “It’s not like that,” he protested.

            “I’m sure,” responded Lo.

            “No, really.  Well, maybe once in a long while.”

            “I knew it!”

            “But I meant no double entendre.  I simply meant that. . .”

            “Do you like to watch?” interrupted Lo.

            “What?”

            “Do you like to watch, to watch her, Linda, when she toys with you?”

            Robert squirmed a little in his seat, uncomfortable.  He’s tremendously uptight and prudish, but he also thinks of himself as enlightened and courageous, so he answered the question, “Well, yes.”

            “Do you reciprocate?”

            “That’s usually why she calls me on Skype.  To. . .”

            “To see you jack it?”
            “If you wish to put it that way, yes.”

            “I do like this gal.  When can I meet her?”

            “That’s just the thing.  She shuttles between Italy, Holland, and London and I don’t think we’ll be together in person again anytime soon.”

            “She can’t just puddle jump the pond and come over for a quicky?”

            Robert laughed at the suggestion.

            “Boy, you must be so hard-up,” said Lo seductively.

            Robert poured himself another whiskey and gestured to pour another for me.  I covered the top of my glass to decline the offer.

            “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m going to lie down for a bit.”  I got up, unsteadily, and found my way to the guest bedroom.  It was right off the hall that went to the living room and so I heard snippets of their conversation from bed.   

            “I remember when I was between boyfriends,” Lo was saying, “not literally.  I mean, after I graduated college and before HH, I used to spend two or three nights a week at my friend Alyssa’s apartment.  She and I were the best of friends back then.  I had no romantic designs on her, but we’d share a bed, both of us naked, holding each other.  She and I were both single and on nights that we didn’t want to go home with a stranger, we’d take comfort in the love we shared.  After she fell asleep, I’d lie there, wide awake, horny, and I’d touch myself silently, careful not to wake her up with my strokes or my inevitably powerful orgasm.  Now that’s what I do next to HH sometimes.  Like tonight, I’ll probably have to do that since he drank too much.”

            Hearing her say that brought a smile to my lips as my mind drifted off on whiskey-saturated clouds.  I dozed for I don’t know how long before I was roused from my slumbers by the sound of Lo’s voice saying, “Are you sure you don’t want some company?”  She was just entering my room and, as I opened my eyes, I saw Robert’s shadow in the hallway. 

            “I’ve had too much to drink.  I’m going to feel like shit in the morning.  Thank you, Lo,” he said politely. 

            “Well, won’t you at least tuck me in?” she asked.  I saw her silhouetted against the hall light filling the doorway.  She slowly removed her blouse, dropped her jeans, undid her bra and took it off, and then slid out of her panties.  I felt her naked body sit on the edge of the bed and then lift up her legs on top of the covers under which I was lying.  Her legs spread and her hand stroked between them. 

            Robert entered the room timidly.  He bent down to offer Lo a kiss goodnight.  She pulled his arm and gently guided him into the bed.  “There’s room enough for all three of us,” she said. 

            He got into the queen-size bed.  I heard Lo kiss him and before very long I heard him sleeping.  I was about to drift off again myself when I felt and saw Lo caressing herself, there, naked, between the two of us.    

            After a restless night of beautiful dreams, I awoke to find Lo next to me, naked, and Robert next to her, fully clothed.  She was nestled up to his body with her right hand on his crotch.  I was holding her – a big spoon to her little spoon – caressing her breasts. 

            I carefully extricated myself from the scene and snuck into the kitchen to make coffee.  I found my phone in my pocket and on it was a text from Lo.  It was sent only a few hours earlier: “Can I fuck Robert?  Please!” 

            I texted her back: “Good morning, my love.  I was hard-up all night – from the moment you got into the bed next to me to the moment I woke up next to you, caressing your breasts and your sweet ass.  Your warm, soft, luscious, naked body looks lovely in the morning light.  In my dreams a word came to mind for you – NILF: Nymph I’d Like to Fuck.  Yes, that’s you. 

By all means, feel free to get Robert up!  You have my permission to rouse him.  Show him what a NILF you are.” 

            I was sitting, enjoying a warm cup of coffee when Lo sauntered into the living room wearing one of Robert’s dress shirts, covering her sexy body down to the middle of her thighs.  She said nothing.  She just cozied up to me on the couch. 

            “How are you, sweetheart?”

            “I missed you, Daddy.”

            “What about Robert?”

            “Out like a light.”

            “And you?”

            She nestled her face into my chest and said something inaudible. 

            “What?”

            She looked up at me and repeated it in a whisper, “I need to get fucked.”

            “By me or him?”  I asked, adding after, “Or both?”

            “Preferably both, but I’ll take what I can get.”

            I stood up and dropped my trousers.  She bent over the side of the couch and I entered her from behind.  She held herself in place with her left hand and rubbed herself between her legs with her right.  It took all of 90 seconds before she came the first time, audibly.  It was about another minute and a half before she came a second time, even louder.  The third time took about five minutes and it was deafening. 

            I pulled out and said, “You’re just trying to wake him up, aren’t you?”

            “Am I a good NILF or bad?”

            “It doesn’t matter, dear.”

            “Why not?” she asked, puzzled.

            “Because you’re my NIFL and I love you.”

            She got on her knees and sucked me off until I came in her mouth and then she got up and we made breakfast together.  The aroma of the eggs and toast must have woken Robert, because he finally emerged from the bedroom holding his head.

            “Owe!” he lamented, “Aspirin!”

            “Here,” said Lo, helping him to sit down at the table.  “Have some of this,” she said as she poured him some orange juice and went into the bathroom to get the aspirin.  She came back and nursed him. 

            “That’s my shirt,” said Robert after a moment.

Daddy’s shirt

            “Oh, sorry,” said Lo.  “Do you want it back?” she asked and made as if to unbutton it. 

            “No,” said Robert, “I just realized – it looks much better on you.”

            We had breakfast together and then Lo removed the shirt and handed it back to Robert.  “I’m just going to change and then we’ll be going,” she said, standing naked before him. 

            Robert was speechless. 

            “Thanks for the hospitality.  But next time, try not to drink so much,” she said before disappearing into the bedroom. 

            “Do you remember what happened last night?” asked Robert of me.

            “Yes,” I said.

            “Do you mind sharing?”

            “No,” I said, “but when I share, it is only good manners to stay sober enough to be up for it.” 

[Editor’s note, this story involves Dr. Robert Smith. For previous stories that include him, click on the links to: Well Laid, Hey Good Lookin’, Pyro, Happy as a Clam, Good Night, My Whore, and Attention Slut. There’s no need to read those stories in that order for this story, but if you are interested in the long flirtation between Lo and Dr. Robert Smith, you can get the backstory in those posts.]
 

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Orgasms


The Red Dress

            My good friend John from Seattle and his three sons (ages twelve through eighteen) came over to visit while they had winter break.  They were in our town looking at colleges for the oldest and enjoying a bit of vacation – skiing, museums, historical sites.  I hadn’t seen John for a couple of years and I was glad that, instead of booking a hotel, he asked to stay with us for the four days they were here.  I suppose I should have known, however, that having all that testosterone under one roof would drive Lo wild. 

            It’s hard to keep Lo’s libido under wraps in the best of circumstances, but fill the house with four male guests, three of whom need to sleep in the living room, and, well, keep on reading.   

            One of the days that John and the boys were visiting, Lola came home from teaching her night class at the local community college where she has been guest lecturing on sex and sexuality in the Woman’s Studies department.  She walked in the door in her knee-high black leather boots with the tall heels and her hip-hugging tight red dress.  She looked. . . voluptuous.  She said a quick hello and then grabbed a glass of Cabernet and joined us in the living room where the boys were sitting, playing games or texting on their smart phones or iPads, and John and I were quietly talking. 

            “I’m so disgusted!” Lo began.

            “What?  What happened?  Did class not go well?” I inquired.

            “I know it sounds ridiculous for a woman in her twenties to say it, but honestly, kids these days!”

            “What happened?” asked John. 

            The boys turned their attention to Lo.  Or, rather, they had looked up from their blue-glowing technology the moment Lo walked in the door and now Lo had their rapt attention.  She sat on the couch and said, “Not that many years ago, when I was an undergrad, I wouldn’t have even thought of texting during class.  I mean, yes, I would be on my laptop and not always taking notes, but isn’t it a sign of disrespect to openly text during a class?” 

            “Don’t you have a policy against it or something?” I asked.

            “Yes, of course I do!  But these two guys in the front row – they are on their phones the whole time.  They’re texting and even passing their phones back-and-forth between them.  I’ve said something to them privately.  I’ve called them out before the whole class.  Now I’m done.  I’ll just fail them.”

            “It would suck to fail at sex,” John quipped. 

            “You teach about sex?” asked his middle boy. 

            “It’s more than just sex – it’s about consent, the media, law, intersectionality,” Lo began, but she lost his attention after the word sex. 

            We talked a bit more and then the boys asked if they could watch some TV.  To my great surprise, they wanted to watch “Gilmore Girls” on Netflix. 

            “Really?” I asked.  “That show was popular like twenty years ago.”

            “Let’s be real, it never was popular,” said Lo.

            “You used to watch it?” I asked.

            “On occasion.”

            “So why do you boys want to see it?  Isn’t it like a chick-lit show?”

            “HH, you’re so gender-conforming.  Not everything breaks down easily along gender-roles,” said Lo sarcastically, with a hint of irony in her eyes as she spoke to me. 

            “Why don’t you let the boys answer?” I shot back.

            “Haven’t you heard,” asked one of them, “they’re bringing ‘Gilmore Girls’ back.”

            “What?” I asked.

            “Yeah, like ‘Arrested Development’ and ‘The X-Files,’ it’s making a comeback on Netflix.”

            “Oh.” I said, learning something new, “but that doesn’t explain the appeal to you,” I said to the boys. 

            “It’s a good show,” they said as they clicked it on.  “Watch and you’ll see.”

            We watched a couple of episodes together as we ate some Chinese food we had had delivered. 

            Around midnight we went to bed and, in the bedroom, Lo removed her tight red dress revealing that all she had on under it was her bra. 

            “No panties?” I asked.

            “I can’t take the chance of panty-lines in this dress – not with a room full of students watching my every move.”

            “Don’t you think that that can be a bit distracting?”

            “What do you mean?” she asked as she slipped out of her bra and stood naked, looking at herself in the mirror. 

            “You know what I mean.  You’re just fishing for a compliment.” 

            She batted her eyelashes at me and asked, “Aren’t I just the sort of bait that would lure compliments?”

            “That you are.”

            “Well, what are you waiting for?”

            “Don’t you think that the class will be studying your every curve if you wear dresses like that?”

            “Like what?”

            “Let’s just say that a dress like that on a body like yours should be enough to distract anyone from their phones.”

            “I have no idea what you mean,” she said disingenuously. 

            “Haven’t you ever read ‘The Scarlet Letter’?” 

            “Yes.”

            “Well, that’s The Scarlet Letter of dresses my dear.”

            “So, you give my dress an ‘A’?”

            “Ugh.” 

            “What do you think of me without my dress?”

            “Can’t you tell?” I asked, displaying for her my member standing at attention.

            “Though your sign language is easy enough to interpret, tell me.  I like your words.”

            “I think your breasts look pretty and perky.”

            “Go on,” she said as she pulled and twisted her nipples, running her fingers over them to make them even more erect. 

            “And your shoulders are incredibly strong and sexy.”

            “More.”

            This went on for some time with me complimenting the small of her back, her smooth legs, her elegant feet.  Then she said, “You haven’t even mentioned my butt.  I mean, even I want my butt.  If I could be with me, I would fuck my butt.” 

            Finally she got into bed and said, “Don’t you want to fuck my butt?”

            “That I do!”

            I got behind her as she was on all fours and she licked her finger and ran it round her special spot as if pointing out the target.  “Go ahead, Daddio, but be slow and gentle.”

            As I began to penetrate her, she moaned aloud. 

            “Lo, shhhh.  We have guests.”

            I ran it in deeper.  She moaned louder and said, “Gentle!”

            “Right.  Now Shhhh.”

            I lodged myself deep inside her extremely tight spot and she said, “Stay right there.  Does it feel good?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  Now let me do the work.” 

            I remained still as she lunged forward and back, slowly at first, but increasing in speed like a locomotive beginning to pull away from the station. 

            “You know, Lo,” I whispered, “I have a distinct image in my mind.”

            “And what’s that?” she said as she was slowly churning away.

            “Those two boys sitting in the front row of your class, showing each other the texts on their phones that you told us about. . .”

            “Yeah?”

            “I like to think that they found your photos on the internet and now they’re looking at them as you teach.”

            “RED!” she said, referring to our fantasy rule of The Raunchy Game.  Red means, nope, you just crossed a line.  “That’s my worst nightmare,” she said, “stop right there.” 

            Despite her words, I could feel her orgasm beginning to surface.  Not wanting to lose the moment, I said, “Well, I can also imagine them sitting in the front row surreptitiously taking your picture with their phones or their computers or something and then saving the pics for later and jacking off to them in their dorm room.” 

            Lo was coaxing the orgasm and sliding on-and-off my cock, forward-and-back.  “Yessss,” she moaned.  “Do you think they jack off to the pics together?”

            “I wouldn’t doubt it,” I said.  “I bet they do it every night after class.”

“My picture’s worth a thousand orgasms,” she said as she came, quite loudly. 

When she was done, the two of us were lying on our backs looking up into the darkness of the room.  “Can I ask you a weird question?” I asked.

“I love your weird questions.”

“When we were watching ‘Gilmore Girls’ tonight, did you sense something odd about it?”

“Besides the fact that it’s always Friday, the town has five people that live in it, Emily and Richard Gilmore are cliché cutouts of ‘rich people’ and that every problem on the show is a privileged white-person problem?” 

“Yeah, besides all that.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Rory has these two boyfriends, Jess and Dean, and what are they? – sixteen, seventeen?”

“I guess,” she answered, lying on her back, her eyes closed.

“And each of them keeps ending up in scenes alone with her mother, Lorelai, who’s all of thirty-two.”

“What are you saying?” Lo asked, her fingers clearly moving up and down under the covers between her legs. 

“I’m saying that I think there’s some subtext going on.”

“Fuck me and tell me,” she insisted, spreading her legs as she lay on her back. 

I got between her wet thighs and entered her.  I held her tightly and whispered, “Lorelai was a MILF before that term was invented.”

Never one to miss an opportunity to correct me, she said, “Darling, I think MILF was invented then.  You just hadn’t heard about it until much later.”

“Whatever,” I said, “the point is, that’s exactly what she’s supposed to be and then these strapping young men have all these one-on-one scenes with her in the house, alone.  Don’t you think they’re suggesting something?”

“I’d like to see that play out,” she said as her breath quickened.  “When I reach my thirties, I hope I’m a MILF.” 

“Darling, you don’t have kids and you’re already a NILF.  A nymphomaniac that I’d. . .”

“Do you think that’s how they see me?” she asked, ambiguous as to whom she meant, but it didn’t matter, she was already cumming. 

Successful in my duty, I gave myself permission to climax with her, but, sensing my imminent orgasm, she said, “No!  Don’t cum!”  She insisted that I save it just as I was about to reach the pinnacle of my performance.

            I kept on keeping on in her. 

            “I said no!” she yelled, pulling her body away.

            “What the fuck?!” I said in an angry whisper, very frustrated, very aggrieved.  Whereas I am frequently all for edging, keeping my Chi to myself, sometimes I need a release and releasing in Lo is the best release. 

            I turned over, lay flat on my back on the bed, tried to catch my breath as Lo, who had already cum twice, grabbed my member, licked it clean, and then kissed her way up to my mouth. 

            “Why can’t I cum?” I asked.

            “Don’t you know by now?”

            “No.”

            “I like you to stay hard because you never know when I’m going to need your dick again.”

            “Oh, I know all right.”

            “You do?”

            “Yes.  You always need it.”

            “That’s true.  So, keep it cocked and ready so that it is fully loaded at a moment’s notice.”

            Sure enough, she needed it again later that night.  She woke me from a sound sleep as she was watching some MILF porn on her phone.