[Continued from: Quiver]
When I woke up from my long nap, I found Lo sitting in the cozy chair next to the hotel room bed, on her computer, typing away.
“Whatcha doin’?” I muttered.
“Oh, well, look who has rejoined the land of the living!”
“What time is it?”
“Six.”
“Six?! I must have been out for like three hours!
“About three and a half.”
“What have you been up to?”
“This, that.”
“Right.”
I slid like a sloth over the bed toward the chair and peeked over her computer to see what she was doing. As I suspected, she was chatting up people on social media. NSFW social media.
“You want to see?”
“OK.”
She showed me. One guy had messaged her, “What are you wearing?” Another messaged her “Do you like cum?” She posted a pic of herself covered in cum and said, “Answered two-in-one.” She thought for a moment. “Hmmmm, two-in-one – that’s my favorite sex position!”
“It’s too early for your humor,” I grumbled.
“What are we going to do, Daddio?” she asked, excited and perky, as she shut her computer.
“What about your virtual gentlemen callers, Lo? Are you just going to leave them hanging like that?”
“No worries. They’ll jack off to my photos and show me the evidence later. They’re ok.”
“Twenty-first Century romance at its finest.”
“You want to go out?”
“I’m not a dog.”
“If only.”
“I don’t want to go out,” I said. “I want a coffee, three Ibuprofen, and a shower, in that order.”
“What’s the matter, ole man?”
“Day drinking, day fucking, sun stroke, and probably death.”
“Then this is heaven,” she said, spreading her legs and stroking her pussy. Did I mention she was naked in that chair?
“Lo, please.”
“It’s alright,” she said, “I already came.”
“When don’t you cum? Honestly.”
“What restaurant tonight?” She was persistent.
“How about tonight we just order room service. We have a five o’clock flight in the morning.”
She pouted.
“Lo, too much of a good thing. . .”
“Is a better thing!”
“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”
“Fine, fine,” she said.
A little later we got our dinner delivered and put on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. As we watched it, I turned to her and said, “You are definitely Neal Page,” (the Steve Martin character).
“And you are definitely Del,” (the John Candy character).
“Glad we agree on something.”
We went to bed early. No sex. At least not for me. What she did, I don’t know because I fell right to sleep.
The next day, she was not having it. Morning, that is.
When I woke her, she said, “It’s dark outside. This is not a time.”
“Lo, it’s three-thirty. We have to get to the airport, drop off the rental car, and get through security.”
“Three-thirty is late afternoon.”
“There are two of them. This is the other one.”
“I don’t like it,” she said. She put her head under the pillow.
“We have to get going,” I pleaded.
She finally got herself together and we were in the rental car driving to the airport. The whole way Lo was complaining. I knew it was because the sun had not even begun to rise yet. She is a nocturnal animal, but an early bird she is not.
“Look,” I finally said out of frustration, “if you want to actually be Neal Page, then you can walk the rest of the way.”
“OK, Del,” she said snidely.
“Might I remind you that Del was kind-hearted, upbeat, jovial, and he also got them out of every hopeless situation they found themselves in.”
“Are you kidding me? If it wasn’t for Neal and all his money, they never would have gotten out of St. Louis. Del just used Neal because Del was broke. Del was a manipulator, a freeloader, a grifter.”
“Del was happy. Neal was a miserable, uptight, meanspirited, asshole.”
“Neal had a job and a family. Del sold shower curtain rings, was homeless, and had no one.”
“He was a widower! His wife died! He probably loved her so much that he went to pieces after she passed away.”
“Pshhhaw,” she said dismissively.
“Are you honestly telling me that you think Neal was the better of the two characters?”
“Yes.”
“Del taught Neal how to enjoy life. Del was well-liked all across the Midwest. Everywhere they went, he knew people and they went out of their way to help him. He must have been a nice guy. Neal knew no one.”
“Neal had a real job and didn’t go door-to-door.”
“Why are we fighting about this?” I finally said to Lo.
“You know,” she replied back, “you just missed the exit to the airport.”
“What?”
“Yeah. You were so caught up in being right that we drove clear passed it.”
“Fuck!”
She pulled out her phone and was figuring out how to get to the car rental place.
In the distance I could see the sun just breaking through the horizon.
“I know why you’re so argumentative,” I said to Lo. “You didn’t get to jill it this morning.”
“Duh.”
“Well, go on. It only takes you a minute. After all, Del said that Neal’s worst trait was he was always fidgeting with his balls.”
“And Del’s worst trait was he never shut up,” she said as she slid her hand down her pants.
When we got to the airport and were driving up the parking garage toward the car rental return, she said, “Pull over.”
“What?”
“Just pull into a parking spot. I’ll finish here.”
I did as she said, but warned her, “Be quick about it. We’re already running late.”
I backed in so I could see if anyone or any cars were coming while Lo was intent on cumming, but the place, the time pressure, the stress of it all made the five minutes of diddling the bean all for naught.
“Fuck,” she said, but not in a good way. “Let’s just go.” She removed her hand from her jeans and buttoned them up. I drove us to the proper destination for the rental and we made it to our flight just on time.
We boarded and buckled in for our four hour flight back home. Lo pulled out her noise cancelling headphones and plugged them into her phone. After we were in the air, Lo turned something on and that something turned her on.
She asked the flight attendant for a blanket. That could only mean one thing.
She draped the blanket over her legs and dove down with her favorite fap finger and soon she was clenching her knees together. That took all of three or four minutes and then another three or four minutes after that, Lo was sound asleep with her headphones still on.
Out of curiosity, I removed her headphones gently from her head and listened. She had the audio of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl playing, as read by the incomparable Jupiter Grant. Unbelievable. Never have I met such a vain, narcissistic nymphomaniac. She actually got off to herself getting off! Well, that and Ms. Grant’s sexy reading voice. I was a bit flattered since I had written the words that brought her to climax. Better than writing for Hallmark. [See NOTE]
Just before we landed, I woke Lo to avoid her being startled by the bump when the wheels hit the tarmac. I told her she might want to button up her pants. She did so.
When we got out into the brutally cold weather of the Northeast, we tried desperately to get a Lyft, an Uber, or a taxi, but since this was the second most travelled day of the year, they were all a long wait. We ended up taking the subway right at the height of rush hour.
As usual on our return flight, Lo was terribly underdressed for the weather back home. She only had on her skin-tight jeans, her striped jackpot top, and a leather jacket. Because of the biting cold, even after we got on the subway, her nipples were protruding right through the already shapely and revealing shirt. The suits on their way to the office took notice and Lo basked in their attention, especially insofar as I was well aware of it. She likes to tease them and me simultaneously.
She gave me a sidelong glance and ran her tongue over her sparkly white teeth as she pressed up a little closer to one suit when the crush of people got on at the next stop.
I’ll admit, it made me rigid and uncomfortable.
When we got out of the crowded subway car, I turned to Lo and said, “You’re so lucky I love you, because any other man would leave you after a ride like that.”
“Save it for home,” she said. “That wasn’t the last ride of the day. You have one more to give me.”
As soon as we got in the door and dropped the bags, she took me by the hand into the bedroom. “Why do you ignore me so much, Daddy?”
“Ignore you?! Lo, I lavish attention on you.”
“You don’t show it.”
“You mean, I don’t show it the way strangers in a subway show it.”
“Yeah,” she said, dropping her pants, sliding out of her pink thong, and lifting up her striped shirt, no bra. “Come here and warm me up,” she said.
I got naked and in the bed next to her and she wrapped her bare body around mine.
“You know why I tease them and flirt with all those hard-up husbands on social media, don’t you?”
“Enlighten me, Lo.”
“Because I’m just trying to get your attention. It’s all for you.”
Suddenly the lyrics to the song by Janet Jackson were floating through my mind. I was in a delirious dream state. She climbed on me and all I could hear in my head was, “Guess I’m goanna have ride it tonight.”
Up and down she posted, saying to me, “Cum in me. Cum in me. Cum deep in me. Give me your attention. Give it to me. Give it all to me. I want it. I want it all. I need it. I need more. I need more. Fuck, I need it. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me Daddy.”
I saw her fire-engine-red fingernails down over her clit. I felt her fingers pry up and into her snatch. She wiggled them deeper inside, up along the top of my shaft as she lifted her hips up, and then she delved in deeper as she lowered her wet crotch down to the base of my cock.
Now it was just her and me fucking in the cold sunshine back home. No strippers. No beach girls in string bikinis. No musclebound men mounting Lola like a stray bitch in heat found wandering around the boardwalk. No sexting hard husbands, willing wives, and curious couples looking for a cheap thrill. No chatting up lustful ladies or seducing single men with her virtual vagina over the internet. No. None of that. Now it was just the two of us fucking.
“Where do you want me to cum? Show me with your finger,” I said as I felt myself getting close.
“Right here,” she said, wiggling her index finger on her g-spot.
“Now?”
“Now.”
I ejaculated right onto her fingertips lodged deep inside her hole.
When I had given her her fill, I slid out and she pulled her sticky little hand and licked each finger as if she had just made cake batter and got it on her hand.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said as she collapsed on me and fell asleep.
I knew she was asleep because her breathing had changed and when her phone buzzed, she didn’t move.
I reached over to the nightstand and picked up her phone. It was one of her internet friends. I read the message: “Hey Lo, my wife is in the shower. I’ve got about five minutes. Do you think you could help me cum?”
[NOTE: The Audiobook is not out yet. Lo was listening to Jupiter Grant’s raw recording. Expected release date: Valentine’s Day, 2020. Stay tuned!]
