Monday morning and, as I was putting on my suit and tie for work, Lo was masturbating herself silly in the bed beside me.
“Planning your vacation with Collin?” I asked sarcastically in between her orgasms as she caught her breath.
“You could get in on this, if you wanted, Daddio,” she said, spreading her pussy lips for me to see.
“Someone around here has to go to work,” I said, a bit bitter.
“You only need a minute,” she said, trading barb for barb.
The truth was that I did want her. I wanted her terribly. I’m sure she could see that too. But I was still sore that she was going for a week, without me, to be with Collin at one of his enormous houses up in the country. I was in a state of angry agitation. Denying her cunt my conjugal company was the only corporal punishment I could inflict upon her. But, I must admit, after her fifth or sixth orgasm, it did seem rather ineffectual. The best I could do was say, “Strip the bed of those soaked sheets and remake it before you leave. Thanks.”
With that I left. No, not even a kiss goodbye. I was a real curmudgeon.
As it happened, Jim, Lily’s husband, couldn’t go that week either. Just the two ladies, Lily and Lola, were going up to the country to visit Uncle Collin for a week. Jim and I had planned on joining them Saturday morning and then we’d drive back to town in two cars on Sunday.
That night I got a call from Lo saying she and Lily had arrived and it was “Amazing!” We didn’t chat long because she said they were “busy” – leaving me to wonder what they were busy doing, but Lo promised to email me in the morning.
Illustration of HH and Lo by LittleGem of purplesgem.com
The light was red. The wallpaper was red. The tablecloths were red. And the candles were red. A live jazz trio played at the other end of the bar. We sat in plush, tufted red leather chairs drinking martinis. Lo’s bare knees were exposed, her legs crossed, her short skirt inching its way up her thighs. She looked at Jim with wide eyes as he told us about the plans for their wedding which was only a couple of weeks away. I sat across from Jim and Lo, nursing my drink as they talked animatedly. They were fond of each other. I was enjoying the beauty of the two of them as the liquor transformed the dive bar to a dreamscape.
“I can’t believe that in little more than two weeks, you two will be married!” said Lo, grabbing Jim’s hand as she said it. “Married!” she repeated.
“Are you going to have a bachelor party?” I asked. “A big send-off to say goodbye to your days of freedom?”
“I already had it,” he said.
“What?!” asked Lo, surprised. “When? Tell us!”
Jim told us that the previous week he had gone back to his hometown to spend a long weekend with his college buddies fishing at a remote lake.
“Fishing?” asked Lo, skeptically.
“Yeah,” said Jim.
“No strip clubs?” she asked.
“No,” said Jim.
“Oh, I get it, they came to you at the cottage.”
“No. No strippers. Nothing like that. It wasn’t a weekend in Vegas. It was just friends spending time together. Fishing.”
“Well,” said Lo, “shouldn’t you have a proper last hurrah?” As she said it, she indicated with her tongue what she had in mind.
“Where’s Lily?” I interjected. As much as I enjoyed seeing Lo seduce Jim, I also wanted to give him a moment to think it over. He seemed so much like a deer in the headlights.
“She’s in New York. Actually, for her bachelorette party.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, very matter-of-factly. “What’s she doing for it?”
The trumpet player had just ramped up his virtuosic solo and was now growling with the horn. I looked over at him for a moment. My eyes returned back to Jim. He was in agony. He looked at me. He couldn’t look at Lo. He said, “She’s with her friends.”
“What’s she doing? Having a party with her girlfriends from college?”
“No,” said Jim. “She’s with. . .” he paused, “she’s with her guy friends. She’s having her ‘last hurrah.’ A crazy orgy or slut-fest with every guy she’d slept with when she lived there.”
“You’re kidding!” said Lo, putting her hand on Jim’s hand and laughing.
“No, I’m not!” he said, frustrated, embarrassed, angry.
“Well, good for her,” said Lo. “I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic to you or anything, but fuck! Good for her, you know. Fuck the patriarchy!”
Jim laughed, despite himself.
“But if you didn’t get your slut-fest for your bachelor party, then let’s make it happen tonight,” she said, sliding a little closer to him.
I suppose now is as good a time as any to inform you, dear reader, that none of this was done without Lily’s knowledge. In fact, it was done with her blessing, her planning even. She thought that there was no one better than Lo to help Jim with his self-esteem and jealousy sprouting from their having an open relationship in which only one party had any traffic entering her open door.
Lily thought it best that Jim not know that she was in cahoots with this plan and allow him to enjoy the feeling of seducing Lo, or being seduced by her.
Jim looked to me as if to ask my permission.
“No pressure,” I said, “but I’m fine with it if you are.”
We paid our tab and I drove the two of them back to our place. They sat in the back seat, making out. This was a very familiar scenario for Lo and me by now. I could see her reach down for his cock.
“Lo,” I said as I pulled up to our place, “we’re home.”
I shut off the car. Lo held Jim’s hand and led him in.
“You two have fun,” I said as I fixed myself a whiskey on the rocks.
I listened as best I could, but I didn’t hear anything. I picked up a book and began reading on the couch in the living room. Lo is usually louder than that, I thought.
About twenty minutes later I heard the squeak of the shower knobs being turned. I thought for sure I’d hear the sound of Lo’s voice soon to follow.
Not only did I hear her voice, but I saw her lovely image as she walked into the living room wearing only one of my old t-shirts.
Lola in a T-shirt
“What brings you out here, dear?” I asked, looking up from my book.
She sat close to me and, in a whisper, she said, “He came.” She was disappointed.
“What?”
“Yep. In the car.”
“Oh, Lo,” I said in a tone of sympathy for her loss.
“I hardly even touched him. I just rubbed him maybe once or twice.”
“And that’s it. He’s done for the night?”
“He’s very embarrassed. He’s taking a shower now to clean up. He thanked me, but I think he wants to go home.”
“Hmmm,” I said, taking it all in. “I guess I’ll take him home then.”
“But Daddio,” she said as she reached to unbuckle my belt, “what about me?”
“Lo.”
“I’m the do-gooder here who’s left high and dry.”
“More like all wet.”
Lola Reverse View
She fumbled with my belt buckle. “Please, Daddy. Let me have it.”
“Lo.”
“Please. Just one look.”
“Fine.”
She took out my hard member. She lowered her mouth on it.
“Lo!”
“Just one lick.”
“You said ‘look,’” I rebuked her.
As I did so, she eagerly took me deep in her mouth. She slid her lips off my rod and then straddled me on the couch, riding my cock up and down. “Just one. . .”
She wanted just one something. She was going at it when Jim returned, dressed, from the bedroom. He sat down in the chair across from us. He watched Lo rise and fall and she looked at him seductively. She grabbed her tits and flicked her nipples with her fingers.
She maneuvered me so that I was now sitting behind her and she was reverse cowgirl on me, looking right at Jim with her legs spread. “Come here,” she commanded to him.
He obeyed, walking right up to her, between my spread legs and hers. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to give her a kiss.
I could feel Lo’s pussy clench on my cock and I knew what was coming next.
“You might want to step back a bit,” I said to Jim too late.
Lo was moaning and rubbing her clit as she lifted up off my cock and squirted, soaking Jim’s slacks.
“Jim,” she said, when she regained her senses, “just stay the night.”
“I appreciate the offer. . . and everything,” he said politely, “I really do, but I think I should just get going home.”
“OK,” I said, fumbling to replace my protruding member into my underwear, zip up, and buckle my belt uncomfortably.
Lo had left the room to get some paper towels and was on all fours on the hardwood floor, her ass partially exposed, cleaning up the puddle. She looked up at Jim. “You’re welcome to stay, but if you want to go, HH will drive you.”
“It’s ok, I’ll walk,” he said, “It will be good for me to get some air.”
Lo got up and hugged him, and I said, “See you at the wedding.” I immediately regretted those parting words.
He let himself out and Lo cuddled up next to me on the couch. “Poor Lily,” she said.
“Yeah,” I concurred.
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Lo.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, not only did he cum after only two strokes, but he’s tiny.”
Tiny Dicks Welcome
“You only saw him after he came.”
“Daddy, I’ve seen a lot of cocks in my day. I know a tiny cock when I see one,” she said as she lifted her pinky in the air and said, “Smaller than this.”
“Well, at least they love each other,” I said.
“Love can fill a lot of gaps in a relationship,” said Lo, “but there’s one hole that needs more than just love.”
“What a true romantic you are.”
Reminder – Order Your Copy of Match, Cinder & Spark today!
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 Girlplaying, 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!]
[Note: Continued from the Thanksgiving Day story, Very Thankful]
“Do you remember what happened last night?” I asked her as we were getting dressed in the morning.
“Yes,” she said. She slipped one leg and then the other into her pink thong panties.
“Everything?”
“What are you talking about? We went out for Thanksgiving dinner and then we came back to the hotel.”
“Right. And then what happened?”
“We went to bed.”
“That’s all you remember?”
Now she was getting agitated with my questions and feeling at a disadvantage.
“Why don’t you tell me,” she said as she adjusted her bra.
“We came home. You were more intoxicated than I thought. I guess those after dinner drinks were strong.”
“They were. But I wasn’t drunk.”
“To hell you weren’t. You barely got up the one flight of stairs to the room.”
“Pshaw,” she scoffed.
“And then we got in here and you quickly got naked.”
“Nothing unusual there.”
“And you were lying on the bed fondling and fingering yourself, begging me to have you.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said, now buttoning up her blouse.
“But I said, ‘Lo, I think you had too much to drink. I don’t think you can consent.’”
“And?”
“Well, if you don’t remember, then I was right.”
“I’m just seeing if your recollection is the same as mine.”
“Yeah, sure. Anyhow, you were very insistent and very horny.”
“Did you want me?”
“Of course! I always want you.”
“Did you have me?”
“Keep listening and I’ll tell you. I again declined your offer, saying you were too inebriated, but you were your usual demanding self. To stall for time and to get ready for bed, I told you to wait for me while I brushed my teeth. When I came out of the bathroom, I found you asleep, naked on the bed, face down, ass up. I was naked at this point too and I got next to you.”
“Were you hard, Daddy?”
“Yes I was hard.”
“For me?”
“Don’t go getting yourself all excited and wet. We have a brunch date to get to.”
She pouted, sat on the chair and put her hand down her shorts. “Go on,” she said.
“I was next to you and you made a half-hearted attempt to grab my cock. You whispered, ‘Have me,’ before falling back into a slumber. I grabbed the moisturizing lotion from the nightstand, slathered it over my cock. I had every intention of jacking off to your naked body.”
Now she was rapidly fingering herself under her shorts and panties.
“I like where this is going,” she said.
“I began to do that, but you looked so good that I wanted to kiss you. I got on top of you. You were still face down, so I began lightly kissing your back, shoulders, and neck. As I was positioned over you like that, my cock found its way between your round ass cheeks. It was all lubricated and so I began sliding it back and forth, swiping it like a charge card through your tight buttocks. You hardly moved. I continued until I couldn’t take it anymore and I came on your back.”
As I told her this confession, she came, squirting through her panties and shorts, dripping down her thighs onto the carpeted floor. I got a towel for her.
“That was hot, Daddy,” she said as I, on my knees, wiped her up from her feet to her crotch.
“I had to clean you up with a warm, wet washcloth last night, much like I’m doing now.”
“You’re so good to me, Daddy,” she said as she slipped out of her clothes and into the shower where she went at it again, self-stimulating in the steamy mist.
When she got out, she sat naked on the bed and put on her sexy tank-top T-shirt. She reached over to the nightstand where she picked up the pack of cards that was sitting on it. She had brought it with her on vacation. Was she hoping to get a fun game of strip poker going? I don’t know. She pulled out the Ace of Spades and held it between her legs. She looked up at me with her mischievous smile and a glimmer of wickedness in her eyes and said, “You know what day it is today, Daddy?”
“No, Lo, I don’t,” I said, wondering where she was going with this.
“Lily texted me,” I texted to Lola, “and she invited me to meet her at the bar to watch the World Series.” It was the seventh game. She was hoping to see her team win. “Do you want to join?”
“Will Jim be there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nah,” Lola texted, “I’ll stay in.”
I walked into the crowded watering hole after a long day at work. Lily, was sitting at the bar, close to the TV. To my surprise, she had saved me a stool next to her. She gave me a hug and turned toward me. Despite the cold October air, she was wearing only a short skirt and a thin, loose fitting blouse. Her legs were spread a bit as she talked to me.
“Where’s Jim?” I inquired.
“He’s with some of his friends watching at their house.”
“You didn’t want to join them?”
I could see that she hadn’t invited me there just to watch the game. She was already on her second drink of the night. What was on her mind?
After just a little prodding (it didn’t take much), she revealed her true design. She was looking for some free legal advice and simultaneously looking for some special attention.
She had recently graduated and got her Master’s in Sexuality and Gender Studies. Now she was looking to do something with that degree and was interested in becoming a “Sex and Spirit Guide” to individuals and couples. The question on her mind was, “If my therapeutic techniques involve hands-on help and I accept money for it, what’s the legal distinction between that and prostitution?”
It was a real zinger of a query – one that they don’t ask you in law school! And my first inclination was to say, “I’m not sure I follow. Could we please go back to your place and you can provide me with a demonstration in order that I understand what you do a little better?” But I wisely withheld that request, which was purely for the academic purpose of gaining clarity, and I asked instead, “So you envision digitally manipulating and stimulating your clients?”
“Well, not only that, but possibly role-playing, BDSM experimenting, discovering their inhibitions through play therapy – you know, taking them on a real sexual and spiritual journey to the seat of their soul.”
“Yeah, this morning I had a professional photographer come to take some risqué photos to advertise my services.”
I got lost in my imagination as I envisioned the scene, but she continued. “And Jim even joined for some of them.”
“Oooh,” I cooed, “Boudoir photos?”
“Some were,” she replied alluringly. She began to pull out her phone as if ready to show me the raw, unedited shots. I wanted to look. I wanted to tell her all about the blog. I wanted to divulge everything. But I knew better. First, it’s Lo’s secret to reveal, not mine. That has always been the rule. Second, I’ve learned that letting on to the blog to people who are in the blog creates a Schrödinger’s Pussy situation – where the knowledge of being observed contaminates the observation.
Again I got lost in my thoughts.
She was clearly trying to attract my attention. She regained it as she unlocked her phone. I fumbled for my words a bit and said something stupid like the answer to her legal question would take some research. “A deep dive,” I remember saying.
“If you could advise me,” she said, playing the role of the helpless dancer in need of a savior, “I’d appreciate it so much. I want to heal people, not get arrested.”
Her allusion to consequences kept me in check and I soon paid my tab and said a friendly farewell to her, looking forward to going home to my sweet slutwife.
I got in late. I found Lola in bed, almost asleep, Stoya on my pillow.
“What’s this?” I asked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said. “Come to bed. I’ll explain.”
I removed my clothes, washed up, and got in bed. She was on the verge of sleep. I moved Stoya to the nightstand.
“I’m all ears. . . and a penis,” I said.
She rolled over toward me. “I was bad,” she began. I could have figured that. “I was thinking of Heather and Erin and all the other women I’ve been with. I was feeling like being with a woman tonight.”
“So you took out Stoya?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I tried a little experiment,” she said.
“Schrödinger’s Pussy,” I muttered under my breath, recalling my conversation of earlier in the evening.
“What?”
“Nothing. Continue.”
“I fingered myself a bit, rubbed some of my girly juice on her lips, fingering her, and put her over my clit. I fucked her pussy with my clit.”
“Did you cum?”
“Many times. It really does feel pretty realistic.”
She hugged me and asked, “Are you mad?”
“No. But I take it you didn’t wash her properly when done.”
“Sorry Daddy.”
I got out of bed and performed the recommended cleaning to Stoya’s pussy and then hung her out to airdry.
When I got back into bed, Lo was sound asleep on her tum. I was on my back. My right hand caressed her back. Then her lower back. Then the roundness of her rump. Then between her legs. I could feel how wet she was still. My fingers circled around her pussy, becoming soaked. I then slid one finger back and did circles around her other special spot. Slowly, gently, furtively, I dipped in, just a bit. No response. Then a bit more. Lo’s ass raised slightly. A little more. She either consciously or unconsciously elevated her hips. She looked like an inchworm as my finger wormed its way into her bum.*
Then a moan. Then a sigh. Then a “Daddy, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, Lo. Sleep.”
I was in up to my first knuckle. I went deeper. And deeper. And then added a finger. Her ass indicated it liked what it was getting. It was completely relaxed and open to exploration.
And then, without warning, it seized up on my fingers. It clenched like a vice and I heard Lo’s breathing accelerate. After only a few seconds it was over. I pulled my fingers out. She was back to sleep. I was hard-up.
“There’s always Stoya,” I thought.
* See the story, “Sin-esthesia” in which Lo gives her “blanket consent” to being fucked while asleep.
“Daddy,” asked Lo, “if it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”
I raised my eyebrows as a confused bunch of emotions swirled in my mind. Of course one of those emotions was arousal. But there was also intrigue, surprise, befuddlement, and a twinge of hurt and even a sliver of jealousy. Why wouldn’t she be ok with introducing me as her partner? Why the rouse? All of these thoughts flooded my mind, but then, at the flash of her pearly whites and her sexy red tongue gliding over them seductively, I could see that the real reason for the roleplay was because it excited her.
She liked the thought of taunting me, making me jealous, leaving me in the cold – the third-wheel as she got to be the center of attention. So, what was I to do? I capitulated and she gave me a devoted little peck on the cheek as a reward.
She practically danced back to Robert to give him the good news and I saw his face light up. I imagine he has felt a bit awkward as a middle-aged single guy in a mostly coupled world. And that awkwardness couldn’t have been diminished at all by coming to our house at all hours of the night for a booty call with Lola. So, her little charade for the evening’s entertainment must have boosted his confidence.
“You know,” I said to Lo at one point before the guests arrived, “there’s a job for what you do.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, clearly delighted by her acting role.
“It’s called ‘girlfriend rental,’ or something like that. I saw an article about it a while ago. Men who don’t have girlfriends can hire a woman to be their date for a company function or even for Thanksgiving!”
“Hmmmmm, interesting,” she pondered, “a little side-hustle.”
Mark and Stephanie came over for
appetizers before we all were going to go to see a play. Lo had planned this night for the four of us
months ago. She was very excited because
the play was one that she had heard great things about and she thought that Mark
and Stephanie were just the couple to invite to it. My guess was that she had designs on Mark and
was hoping to get him into a showdy corner of the dark theater and play a
little herself. But what actually
happened was way beyond my wildest imaginings.
Lo, as is her practice of primping
and prepping, spent most of that lovely summer Friday afternoon cleaning up the
house for our guests, making a special dip, stocking the bar, adorning the
small tables with bouquets of flowers, and then hopping into the shower. I, for my part, cracked open a beer and
watched Lo do all this work in her panties and bra. I hope you, dear reader, don’t get the wrong
idea about me. I’d be more than happy to
chip in with the chores, but Lo is such a perfectionist that I have learned the
hard way over time that it’s best to leave it to her.
As I sat on the living room couch, I
heard what could only be described as Lo’s mating call, if mating occurred for
her the way it does for komodo dragons, that is, through parthenogenesis, or
without the need of a male. Yes, this is
a very long-winded way of saying that Lo was fucking herself in the shower with
one of her many dildos and calling, to God, to me, to anyone, with her
distinctive, “OH GOD! YES! FUCK! YES!
YES! YES! YES!”
Not quite as poetic as the final paragraph of Joyce’s Ulysses, but the same sentiment. When she got out of the shower and found me
sitting on the bed, I wasn’t the only one who was long-winded. She was panting for air since her hot, steamy
shower only added to the heavy, humid air of our apartment.
“Thinking of Mark?” I asked
snidely.
“Mark, Mike, Matthew, Milton, it
doesn’t matter.”
“Allow me to rephrase. Thinking of dick?”
“Many, many dicks,” she said.
I got up off the bed to spank her
bottom as she was bending over the sink to wipe down the mirror when I caught a
glance into the tub and saw it was populated with not one, but four
dildos!
“What the hell did you need four dildos for in there? You only have three orifices to fill.”
“I like to feel wanted,” she said as
she set out to blow dry her hair.
“How many times did you cum?”
“Three or four or five.”
“Seriously?”
“No, deliriously. I used different dildos for different holes
and different sorts of orgasms. I used
this one,” she said, pointing at the one that was stuck to the tile wall by its
suction cup base, “for my puss. Then I
added this one in my ass,” she said, indicating her large red double-ended
dildo. “And then I used that same one on
both my ass and my puss before I used this one,” she said pointing to the horse
cock dildo on the floor of the tub.
“What about that one?” I asked,
pointing to the black dildo we call “Tommy gun” because it looks like a little
machine gun the way the ball sack is attached to it.
“Oh, that one I just held in my hand
for fun. You know my motto.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Be happy: jill off, jill often.”
“Well, you’d better clean up your
bathtub toys before our guests arrive.”
“Why, were they planning on taking a
bath?”
“You never know.”
“That would be fun.”
“I bet you’d like that. But, remember, Mark hasn’t had sex with Stephanie in over a year now.” We knew this from what Stephanie had told me at their Super Bowl party.
“First, that’s not
due to any deficiency on his part. And
second, even if it was, I know I could help him. I’m a cock whisperer.”
“I think you still
aim to ‘help’ him,” I said, knowing that Lo is terribly attracted to Mark.
“So,” she
responded, “Why do you think I have so many dildos in the tub? I like to get men hard. I like them to desire me. I like to be what gets
them up in the morning and what gives them sweet dreams at night. I want to be a vessel into which men drain
their lust.”
“Everyone but the
shoemaker’s wife,” I said under my breath.
“What?” she asked
as she slipped into her dress.
“Everyone except
the shoemaker’s wife,” I said more loudly.
“What the fuck
does that mean?” she asked.
I responded, “You have to clean up
your language, young lady.”
“Fine, I’ll clean it up. I’ll take out every word except ‘fuck.’”
“You know what I mean.”
“Fuck?”
“Stop it.”
“Fuck fuck.”
“You’re being vulgar.”
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
“OK, I’ll play your game. What do you want to do tonight?”
“Fuck.”
“I bet you do. Fuck Mark.
Like I said, everyone except the shoemaker’s wife.”
“That’s the third time you said
that, now tell me what the fuck it means before I shove this shoe up your ass!”
she demanded as she held her high heel in her hand.
“It’s a saying. Everyone gets a new pair of shoes except the
shoemaker’s wife. The shoemaker never
gets to her because he’s so busy making the shoes for everyone else.”
“And what does that have to do with
us?”
“You’re the shoemaker. Everyone gets to drain their lust into you
but me.”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” she said,
feigning playing the violin for me. “You
get more than you can handle. Nine out
of ten times you deny me. That’s why this shoemaker has to go all
around town like the prince letting everyone try on Cinderella’s slipper.”
“Now this metaphor has jumped the
shark.”
“Look, if you want some of this,”
she said, slapping her pussy over her dress, “all you have to do is ask for it,
or better yet, take it!”
“I want it!” I said, lifting up her
dress and noticing that she hadn’t put on panties.
“Not now! They’ll be here in a minute or two.”
“I only need thirty seconds. You know that.”
“And people say romance is dead.”
At that moment the doorbell
rang. I went to go answer it and Lo
called to me and said, “Tell them I’ll be right out. Oh, and put the chips out and the dip. Oh, and can you turn on the Bluetooth speaker
to some up-beat music?”
“Sure,” I said, trying to remember
all I was supposed to do.
I took out the chips and dip,
grabbed Lo’s phone and pulled up Spotify, and turned on the speaker so it
played in the living room. Then I let in
Mark and Stephanie.
I invited them into the living room
and we sat down. “Lo will be right out,”
I said as we made polite conversation.
They looked very dapper, all dressed
up for the theater. She was wearing cute
flats, tight jeans, and a very sheer white top.
She doesn’t have very big breasts, but they are perky and she has a cute
bob haircut. He was in nice jeans,
leather shoes, and a tight fitting black t-shirt under a blazer. It was a dated, slightly “Miami Vice” look,
but he can be forgiven since he is from Miami after all.
I offered them drinks and they both
gladly elected for the harder stuff, passing over the beer and wine. I was surprised. Before theater events I find I can’t have
anything too strong, except coffee, lest I pull a Jack Nicolson and fall asleep
during the performance and begin snoring.
As I was entering with drinks in
hand, Lo made her stunning appearance. I
had seen her little, short black dress, but to see her with the sexy, shiny
black heels, her full makeup on, and that smile of hers was really
something. I wondered if she was still
commando or if she had elected to wear panties.
Ah, those perennial philosophical questions that I ponder in my life
with Lo.
We sat in the living room talking
since we had plenty of time before we had to leave for the play and somehow the
conversation turned to the topic of tattoos.
I pointed out that neither Lo nor I have any tattoos and we were
discussing what and where we’d get them if we chose to do so.
“Do you have any tattoos?” asked Lo
of both of them, but she touched Mark’s arm as she asked it.
“Lo, don’t you remember? – We went
to the beach with them. I didn’t see any
tattoos on either of them,” I interjected.
“Actually,” Mark said, “I do have a
tattoo.”
“Na-ah,” said Lo in disbelief,
grabbing his arm. “Where?”
“Well, I’m actually not too proud of
it.”
“Come on,” she said. “Where?” she asked, turning to Stephanie for
a hint.
“There,” said Stephanie, pointing at
his crotch.
“Na-ah,” said Lo again. “On his. . . ?”
“No,” said Mark. “Not on
it. Just above it.”
“What is it, I have to know,” said
Lo.
“If you’re that curious, I’ll show
you,” said Mark, standing up and moving to undo his belt buckle, but obviously
joking. But Lo didn’t take it as a
joke.
“Really?!” she said, the word
escaping her mouth faster than her brain realized what she had said and with
how much enthusiasm she had said it.
“No,” said Mark. “You don’t really want me to show you, do you?”
Lo unwittingly licked her lips and
nodded her head “Yes.”
“Fine,” said Mark, “I’ll show
you.” He actually unbuckled his belt.
I suddenly got up and said, “I’m
going to refresh my drink. Can I get
anyone anything?”
I was met with no answer. I looked at the tableau. There was Lo on the couch on one side of
Mark, her head directly level with his pelvis, looking intently. Mark was standing, undoing his belt buckle, a
big smile on his face. And Stephanie was
sitting on the other side of Mark, almost unable to see the action, her legs
crossed, a slight frown on her lips, watching her husband’s movements in front
of this woman who was over ten years her junior.
I was in the kitchen and I suddenly
heard Lo’s admiring voice coo, “Wow!
Impressive!”
When I returned to the living room,
Mark was buckling up his belt.
“So, why an eagle?” asked Lo, now
touching his knee.
“I was in college, I was drunk, and
I thought that. . . now this is really embarrassing.”
“Out with it,” demanded Lo.
“I was into the symbolism of spirit
animals and I felt that the eagle was my spirit animal and this,” he said,
running his hand across the top of his pelvis, “was the seat of my spirit.”
Lo did her best not to giggle and to
really stroke his ego (though she wanted to stoke something else, I’m sure). But then she said abruptly, “Oh, fuck, I
forgot, I have to send a quick email for work.”
I was confused and I saw her grab
her phone and scurry off. “I’ll be right
back. Just five minutes. Promise.
I just have to take care of this little bit of business.”
OH!
I thought, Is that what she’s
up to now. You see, “TCB – Taking Care
of Business,” is our little code for her masturbating. That’s what she texts me when she can’t come
to the phone because she’s busy cumming to something else.
And just as quickly as that
revelation hit me, a second, more menacing one alighted, “She took her
phone. Oh, shit!”
But that second realization was just
a bit too late in arriving. She must
have already gotten into the bedroom or bathroom, took down her panties, if she
was wearing any at all, and already found a dirty little video to watch because
suddenly the music on the Bluetooth speaker switched to the sounds of two (or
more) people fucking. Yes. Right there in the living room, the pornographic
soundtrack filled the air like an ambient disembodied orgiastic orchestra.
“Ha ha,” I fumbled, “must be a
random connection crossing paths with our wireless.” I jumped to shut off the speaker and couldn’t
find the confounded button fast enough!
Finally, in the awkward silence, we sat just sort of looking at each
other as I struggled to fill the air that was now devoid of sex sounds but
pregnant with nothing. Small talk into
the void, I thought, not finding the words that would penetrate those deafening
drawn out moments of muted embarrassment.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, that shriek of Lo’s
climax cut the stillness with “Oh FUCK!”
“I’ll just go to check to make sure
everything’s ok,” I said, in haste to remove myself not only from the living
room, but, if possible, from the continent.
“LO!” I whispered as I entered the
bedroom and found her with her dress up over her waist, one of her dildos up
her crotch, on hand manipulating it as her other held her phone as she was
kneeling on the bed. She scampered to
make it look like she wasn’t up to no good, but there was no evading her
shenanigans.
“What?!” she angrily asked, also in
a whisper.
“They heard you. They heard everything.”
“What?”
“Yes. The porn, the orgasm, all of it. Now, put your toy down and get out here. Oh, and make up some sort of an excuse.”
I returned to our guests, looking as
if nothing was wrong and said, “Oh, Lo just, er, dropped her computer on her
foot.”
“Is she ok?” asked Stephanie, seeing
right through the ruse.
“Oh yeah,” I said, waiving my hand
as if to say, nothing to worry about.
No sooner had I done that than Lo
came out, in her heels, smiling, and she said, “Sorry about that, I just found
out that something terrible happened at work.”
“How’s your foot?” asked Stephanie.
“My foot?” asked Lo, perplexed. “Fine.”
“We were all worried,” I said,
“about the computer you dropped on it.”
“Computer I. . .” she began.
If I could have stepped on her foot
to give her the hint, I would have, but as it was, I think my eyes were saying
everything.
“Oh yeah,” said Lo, “my foot’s
fine. Just a little bruise,” she
said. “Will you rub it?” she asked me as
she sat on the couch and took off her heel and put her foot up on my lap.
“I thought you rubbed it.” I said,
accusatorily.
“Oh, I did. I did rub it, but it still hurts,” she
said. “It needs more rubbing,” she
added, and I could just hear her saying, “Daddio,” but she kept that to
herself, thankfully.
She shook her foot, as if to demand
my attention, and I said, “Wasn’t it your other
foot Lo?” just to mess with her.
“No, silly,” she said, “I think I
know which foot I dropped my computer on.”
So I began caressing her foot. We all continued our little chat, but this
time without any ambient music.
Eventually it was time to go and we
went to see the play.
Prior to that evening, I had no idea
what the play was about. I hadn’t even
heard of it. But ever since, that play
has been etched into my mind. In brief,
it is the story of a late 19th century doctor who treats women with
hysterical paroxysms. He used to induce
them digitally, but now he has discovered this newly invented medical device
that uses the also newly invented technology of electric power. The device?
A vibrator! The wife, who is
sexually frustrated, becomes curious about this mystery treatment and uses it
on herself, to her delight. I won’t give
too much of the wonderful story away here, lest you, dear reader, go to see it
– which I highly recommend.
But for the four of us to see that
play together, well, I can only surmise that this was the scheming of Lo’s
cunning mind. For, as you know by now,
Stephanie and Mark have been struggling with rekindling the sexual spark in
their marriage. In many respects, they
may have felt like they were watching their relationship play out on
stage.
Lo’s little foreplay at home may
have been an elaborate prelude to the main event. A little masturbatory appetizer for our
guests, only in order to fete them with a full course meal of onanistic
explorations. During the performance, Lo
was squirming in her seat as she sat, very conveniently and strategically
between me and Mark.
At intermission, Stephanie pulled Lo
aside, leaving Mark and me to get drinks at the crowded bar. I was thankful for the distraction, for I
honestly didn’t know what to say to him.
When we did have a moment of awkward interaction, he asked, “What do you
think of the play?”
I answered, “Wonderful, wonderful,”
ambiguously.
“I can see what Lo likes about it,”
he said, just as ambiguously.
“What wouldn’t she like about it?” I
asked rhetorically.
Just then the ladies returned and
the lights flashed off and on indicating time to return to our seats.
The final act was a very satisfying
one, especially if Mark and Stephanie saw themselves in the main
characters. After the final curtain came
down, Mark and Stephanie said hasty goodbyes, claiming they had to get home to
relieve the babysitter. But who knows
what the actual cause of their haste was.
When Lo and I were alone, I rebuked
her for her bad behavior.
“Are you angry, Daddy?” she asked.
“Lo, why did you give in to your
carnal desires when we had guests? Were
you just prepping them for the play or were you too much in lust after seeing
Mark unzip his pants for you?”
A couple getting off to “Match, Cinder & Spark” and mysexlifewithlola.com together
“A little from column A,” she said,
“and a little from column B.”
“More like a lot from column B,” I
added. “What exactly did you see?”
Monday morning. 4 am. Lo wakes me up by fucking herself with her glass dildo and Hitachi Magic Wand. “Must you do that now?” I ask, irritated.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to do it if you’d fuck me at night, but you just went to sleep after getting in bed – like sleep is what the bed is made for!”
“Don’t blame your nymphomania on me. You’re like Buzz Lightyear over there, masturbating to infinity and beyond!”
“Yeah, well, from the looks of things, you’re like Woody over there. What’s that popping up under the covers?”
It’s true, I often wake up with a raging hard-on.
“I had crazy sex dreams all night,” she says, more sweetly.
“Really?” I ask from my own dreamlike state. “Tell me about them.”
She tells me about how she dreamed about sex with a guy from work. “I told him I want him to be with me in the biblical sense.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“What’s not?”
“To ‘be’ together in the biblical sense. The saying is, ‘to know one another in the biblical sense.’”
“Well, I want to be together with him – in an existential sense.”
“Why do you think you were dreaming that?”
“Because you were groping me all night.”
“That’s impossible. I slept like I was hit by a bus.”
“Well, groping while sleeping is one of your natural talents.”
“I have many natural and unnatural talents.”
“What are you going to do with that?” she asks, looking down at my rock-hard shaft.
“I’m going to suffer with it. It’s my half-a-cross to bear.”
“Well, don’t get any ideas, I’m getting up,” she says as she pulls out her dildo and rests it on her nightstand.
“So am I,” I say, removing the covers, looking down at my phallus standing at attention.
A good erection is not to be wasted, I suppose, so instead of getting out of bed, she climbs up on my morning wood and eases herself down onto it.
When I don’t meet her descending motion with a thrust upward, she asks, “What’s the matter?”
“You’re using me,” I respond.
“Only for your body.”
“Oh, well, in that case then it’s ok.”
Within seconds she is gushing all over my hips. She climbs off my body and collapses into the bed, eyes closed.
“Are you sleeping?” I ask, incredulously.
“Shhhhh,” is all she manages to respond as she drifts off back to dreamland leaving me hard-up at 4:10 in the a.m.
There’s no going back to sleep for me and I look at her peaceful face.
“Just jack it like any other guy would,” she mutters.
I get out of bed and do what I always do with my sexual energy – channel it into a good story.
A couple of hours later my phone buzzes. “Come,” she texts from the bedroom.
I follow her command.
As I enter the bedroom, I find her naked, legs spread, fingers caressing between her glistening pussy lips. I sit down gingerly beside her. She looks up at me. Her hair is a mess.
“What time did you come to bed?” she asks.
“When?”
“Whenever you came to bed.”
Not knowing if she was speaking about last night or this morning, I reply, “Just now.”
“Did I give you a handjob?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Why?” I ask, curious.
“I had a dream that I did.”
Her left hand is already fondling my hard cock over my pj bottoms.
“Take it out,” she commands.
I take it out for her to hold. “Do you want to make your dream come true?” I ask.
She doesn’t bother to answer. She is already stroking it with her left hand and stroking herself with her right. Her eyes are closed as if continuing her dream. Within mere moments she cums again, and falls back to sleep, leaving me hard-up for a second time.
I hop in the shower and then get dressed for work figuring that it’s just not my morning.
A few minutes after I leave the bedroom to have a cup of coffee, Lola walks into the kitchen. I can tell just by her footfall that she’s upset. Without a “hello” or “good morning,” she launches into a tirade.
“I’m so pissed,” she says.
“Why?”
“I just am. My computer sucks, my schedule sucks, everything just sucks.”
“Do you want to go fuck it out?” I ask, hoping that I might finally release the tension between my legs.
“I thought you’d never ask!”
We return to the bedroom to have sex. I slip out of my pants, but leave on my shirt. I’m still horny from not cumming earlier in the morning and I figure this will be quick and fun. But this time, she isn’t reaching orgasm like she did earlier. She takes out her Hitachi and puts it on her clit and it vibrates between our bodies. After only a few minutes she switches it off and stops her motions. “It’s not working. I think I’m broken.”
“What?”
“I’m not cumming. I think I’m broken.”
“Lo, you had at least two or three orgasms already this morning!”
“Orgasms are like football, it doesn’t matter if you won your last ten games, the only game that matters is this one.”
“You don’t even like football.”
“So? It still holds true.”
“You’re just thinking about all you have to do today.”
“Yeah, but I always cum.”
I get up.
“Where are you going?”
“To make breakfast. Do you want some?’
“No. I’m going to keep trying ʼtil I cum. Everyone has to have goals.”
Two minutes later she’s walking naked into the kitchen.
“That was fast.”
“And how! What’s for breakfast?”
After breakfast I say, “Well, Darlin’, I have to go to work.”
“You’re not wearing any pants!”
“It’s underwear Wednesday.”
“It’s not Wednesday, it’s Monday,” she corrects me.
“I plan my outfits ahead of time.”
“And don’t you mean Wonderwear Wednsday, as in, I wonder where my pants are?”
“Yeah.”
I go to the bedroom and put on my pants. She follows me.
“You can’t go out in those pants!” she gasps.
“I could take them off, but I’d catch a breeze.”
“No no no. I mean, I can see every line and curve of your cock clear as day through those.”
“Well, that never stopped you from wearing your yoga pants in public, now did it?”
“What are you talking about?” she asks defensively.
“As if you were unaware of your camel-toe.”
“Phhh,” she says, dismissively while staring at my crotch. “That thing is huge in there! Sheesh, you’ll scare your secretary.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of, or are you afraid she’ll get the same look in her eye that you have now?”
“Shut up. You cannot go to work like that. It’s bad enough that you have a young female secretary. Now pull it out.”
“But Lo, I have only like three minutes to get going!”
She gets on her knees and unzips my fly, pulling out my cock. But she also continues her rant. “I’m just doing a public service. If you go to work like this, then you’re just contributing to the misogynistic, patriarchal, intersectional systems of oppression.”
“Wow, that’s a mouthful.”
“You’re also a mouthful,” she says as she goes down on me.
“Are you doing a public service or do you wish to service the public?”
She pauses in her fellatio and looks to say, “Please don’t make bad puns while I have your cock in my mouth.”
With merely the gentle touch of her lips on the tip of my cock and the beautiful view of her on her knees, I finally cum. So quick, so unexpected, and so much that it spews all over her face, neck, and tits. She looks up at me and says in astonishment, “That was a hot surprise!”
“Sounds like a special in a restaurant.”
“It’s a plate best served horny.”
“So,” I ask, “what do you want to do with the remaining two and a half minutes I have?”
Suddenly she notices something and looks up at me with a scowl. “You came all over my hair! How did you do that?”
“That’s one of my natural talents.”
“And you came in like five seconds.”
“That’s one of my unnatural talents.”
“Did you like it?” she asks.
“I loved it,” I say, “but I’m so sleepy now.”
“Yeah, because you were groping me all night.”
“Impossible! I slept like a rock.”
“You said you slept like you were hit by a bus.”
“Like a rock that was hit by a bus.”
“Where are you going all dressed up?” she asks after I zip up.
“I have a date.”
“With whom?”
“With destiny.”
“Who is she, I’ll tear her apart!”
“She’s a fickle woman who always gets her way.”
A few moments later, Lola appears in the living room, miraculously all dressed and ready to go to work. She’s wearing a pearl necklace.
“That’s pretty I say.”
“This?” she asks, holding the necklace. “It’s my second pearl necklace of the day!”
“Very funny,” I say.
She leans in to kiss me goodbye before we both leave. “You’ll be home at 11:00 to fuck?” I ask.
“Yeah. Will you be here?”
“Let me check my schedule to see if you can fit me in,” I reply.
I looked down and I saw Lola’s finger gently stroking Stoya’s pussy. She slid her wet finger up and down the soft labia and then gently inserted one, then two fingers deep inside. “You like this, Daddy? You want to fuck her pussy?” she asked. I did, but for the moment I was enjoying the view as I held my cock in my hands.
Now, allow me to tell you how we arrived at that supremely sexy moment.
It was late August. Lo and I packed up our big cooler full of beers, G&T, and various snack items: salsa, hummus, cheeses. We had a picnic basket full of chips, pita bread, pretzels, and basically everything you could want as an appetizer, but no meal.
We got on the road early. We knew that the parking spots at the beach would fill up quick since the weather forecast for that Saturday was so perfect and we knew that there wouldn’t be many more opportunities to get to the ocean this summer.
All the way out there, Lo was in high spirits. In summer she loves three things: heat, beach, and picnic baskets. Well, and sex. Don’t forget the sex. I just like seeing her in her bikini (and out of her bikini).
We got there just in time to get one of the few remaining spots in the parking lot and I carried the heavy stuff while Lo rolled the cooler. We set up the chairs and umbrella, spread out the beach blanket, and I pulled out a book and sat in the chair surveying the area while Lo lay spread eagle on the blanket.
“On the B.P.?” Lo asked me. That’s our abbreviation for either “Beach Patrol,” or, more accurately, “Butt Patrol.”
There were a few couples around us, but we were in the mostly vacant far end of the beach, away from the crowds and screaming children.
The hours spent soaking up the sun sped by as Lo and I sipped our cold drinks and nibbled on the provisions. I got a good chunk of reading done, swam a few times when I got too hot to bake any longer, and enjoyed seeing Lo apply and reapply her sunscreen.
When the sun was low on the horizon, Lo and I packed up our temporary home in the sand, put it all in the trunk and then headed off to one of our favorite restaurants, right on the water.
We walked up to the rooftop bar and, though it was crowded, we managed to snag the last high-top table for two overlooking the blue water below and the sunset in the distance. It was perfect. We were famished and already feeling the effects of day-drinking while sunbathing.
We ate our meal as the band played “Margaritaville” and other classic summer songs. Lo’s feet kept rubbing up on my legs. I could tell what she was hungry for now and I was eager to get her home to feed it to her.
We paid the bill and just as we stood to leave, we heard someone from the next table say, “Oh, don’t go yet!” Was that directed at us? I turned around and saw two women sitting at one of the other high-top tables. Rather than sit across from one another, as Lo and I had been sitting in order to see each other, they both sat on one side of the small table and they were looking at us. My back was to them the whole time, but had Lo seen them? I don’t know.
“What?” I asked, politely, but a bit defensively.
“Don’t go yet,” one of them repeated. Apparently they enjoyed looking at us.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“Never mind her,” said the other woman in a deeper voice, “we’ve been here all day and now she’s drunk.”
“I am not!” the first protested.
“Whatever,” said the second.
We were in no hurry, we had been together all day, and something about these two women appealed to us (or appealed to our vanity), so we took a seat on the other side of the table. We began with introductions. The taller, deeper voiced woman was Sherry and the smaller, sandy-haired woman’s name was Rain. They were a couple. They had been together for about a year and they admitted to watching the two of us.
We ordered another round of drinks, even though Lo and I had already settled up for our dinner.
“You have amazing tits,” said Rain. She was either less reserved than Sherry, or much more drunk. I couldn’t tell since I knew them not at all.
Lo almost blushed, but not quite. She was still in her bikini top and shorts.
“She has a great ass too,” I chimed in.
“I bet,” said Rain, liking her lips. The gesture reminded me of Lo’s trademark move and when I looked over at Lo, it was like a mirror reflection of Rain. They clearly had chemistry. I looked at Sherry whose poker face was inscrutable. Did she enjoy the flirting, as I did, or resent it? Was this just another night out for this interesting couple, or was Rain playing a dangerous game?
No matter, it wasn’t my relationship at stake.
We continued drinking and finding out more about the two of them. Rain was a yoga instructor. Sherry worked in finance. An odd couple, for sure.
The band continued to play and at some point after we had had another round or two, they played Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds.”
“I love this song!” Rain informed us as she jumped off her barstool and grabbed Lo’s hand saying, “Dance with me,” as she almost dragged her onto the dancefloor. The two of them swayed back and forth and Rain put her hands on Lo’s hips as Lo put her arms around Rain’s waist. I could see their lips moving, but not hear what they said. I realized that I wasn’t the only one watching them. Not only were the other folks in the bar glued to these two long-haired, sexy beach babes dancing, but Sherry was also eyeing them closely. I decided to use the opportunity of our being mutually abandoned to try to understand what was going on for her.
“She always this friendly?” I asked.
A tense smile hid her frustration. “Rain? She’s a very free spirit,” she said. It was meant to sound like a compliment, but it came across as a complaint.
“Same with Lo,” I said, genuinely, “that’s why I love her so.”
She smiled again and I decided to lighten the mood a bit. “You have great teeth.”
“Oh,” she said, surprised, clearly not used to being complimented, “thanks.”
One little observation goes a long way. After that, she really opened up to me, telling me more about her and Rain.
The band played another song and Lo and Rain kept dancing. I saw Rain move her hand to Lo’s butt, over her denim shorts. Their bodies moved closer together, their steps smaller.
Sherry told me that this was her first relationship with a woman. She was newly divorced. She had two kids – teenagers. They were very conflicted about everything. I could see that either their emotions reflected her own or she was projecting. She and Rain had only been together about a year and a half. Rain had never been with a man, but was fascinated by men. . . and afraid of them.
Sherry was just as intoxicated as Rain, I realized, only she hid it better. She hid, or tried to hide, a lot of things. She went on to tell me that she’s often caught Rain masturbating to porn of guys jackin’ it and cumming. “She’s fascinated by guys ejaculating,” she said as if it was the most bizarre thing for a lesbian to be curious about. “She watches it again and again.”
Lo and Rain came back from the dance floor.
“At least someone dances with me,” Lo said, jibing me for my reluctance to set foot on any dance floor.
“At least someone talks to me,” I said, looking at Sherry.
“Oh yeah,” asked Rain, “what were you two talking about?”
“If I tell you,” I said, “you’ll tell me how nice Lo’s ass is.”
“Deal!” she said.
I looked at Sherry and saw real fear in her eyes. Of course I wasn’t going to publicize her intimate revelation. “We were just talking about Shelly’s kids and how quickly they grow up.”
“I know! Right?” said Rain, “When I met them, I was taller than both of them. But now they’re both this tall,” she said, putting her hand above her head by a foot.
Sherry looked relieved.
We talked some more, got some appetizers and more beer. Lo and I opened up about our special relationship. When Rain heard that I’m not allowed to have the same freedoms as Lo, she suddenly became more interested in me. It was as if being off limits was a dare for her, a challenge, a goal. She was now openly flirting with both Lo and me.
I completely lost track of time, but I knew we had a long drive home. We got the check, exchanged numbers, and said that we all need to come back here again together before the summer was over.
We walked downstairs and out onto the sidewalk. Their destination was the opposite direction from ours. Lo gave a hug to Sherry as I went in to give a goodbye hug to Rain, but to my great astonishment, rather than a hug, Rain’s lips came in right for mine. This was no little, polite peck goodnight, but an open-mouthed kiss, full of lips-on-lips and tongue exploration. She hugged me close and squeezed and the thought occurred to me that she was squeezing me as she wanted to be squeezed.
When our embrace ended, I furtively looked over to Lo to see just how much trouble I was in now. But Lo was busy talking with Sherry. Had either of them seen what just went down? Then Lo came over to Rain to give her a very proper and polite hug goodbye while I hugged Sherry. There were no hard feelings, or at least none that I could detect.
Lo and I began walking along the dimly lit sidewalk next to the dark beach. In our spirited conversation with the women, apparently Lo forgot the most important thing to do before departing a bar.
“Daddy,” she said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”
“What?”
“I have to pee. So bad.”
“Well, let’s go back. You can. . .”
She cut me off. “No,” she said, “why should we go all the way back when we have all the beach to ourselves?”
“What?” I asked, astonished as I saw Lo walk onto the sandy beach, pull down and remove her shorts but leaving on her bikini bottoms as she stuck out her bum like she was grinding into the invisible groin of someone in a dance club.
“Are you peeing?” I asked in disbelief.
“Come here and I’ll show you,” she said, grabbing my wrist, pulling my hand between her legs so I could feel the drips as they seeped through her bottoms.
“Lo,” I gasped, “you’re bad!”
“You love it,” she said. “You know you do.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“OK,” she said, “let’s go.”
She grabbed me so we walked arm-in-arm and she sashayed down the sidewalk.
“Feel better, dear?”
“Much,” she said. “Feel hard, dear?” she asked as she reached over to feel my cock under my bathing suit. “Oh yeah,” she said, answering her own question, “you feel hard alright.”
She wasn’t wrong.
We got to the car and I got in, but I called to Lo before she got in. “Hey, you plan on taking off your bottoms?”
“What?”
“Your bottoms. Do you plan on taking them off?”
“Here? On the street?”
“Yes here, on the street. You certainly don’t plan on sitting on my car seat like that do you?”
“Like what, Daddy?” she asked innocently.
“Drenched in pee.”
“Drenched in pee?! What are you talking about?”
“Your little trinkle on the beach.”
“What?”
“You honestly don’t remember?”
“No. Is that why I’m all wet? I just thought I was really horny. I mean, I am really horny, but is that why I’m wet?”
“Yes. So strip.”
“This sounds like a fun ride,” she said as she dropped her bikini bottoms onto the sidewalk, threw them in the trunk, and got in the car.
I started up the engine and she reached over to grab my cock. “Do you want me to straddle you, Daddy?” she asked.
“No, Lo, I’m driving home.”
“Can I blow you?”
“No.”
“Hand job?”
“No.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do for this long ride home?” she asked as she put her bare feet up on the dashboard, spreading them to make a ‘V’ of her legs. “Just look at what you’ve got here,” she said as she slapped her cleanly shaved pussy.
She put the seat all the way back and reclined it as far as it would go, keeping her feet up on the dash as she began massaging her pussy. But within mere moments she was sound asleep next to me.
We got home and I roused her. It took a great deal of effort, but I finally got her out of the car and up the stairs of our apartment building, all butt naked.
Once in our apartment she crawled into bed. Now she was waking up.
“Fuck me, Daddy,” she said, spreading her legs.
“Lo, you’re beyond the ability to consent.”
“No I’m not, Daddy,” she protested. “Don’t you want me?”
“I sure do, but I’m not having you,” I replied.
“Please?”
“No.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to take things into my own hands,” she said, pulling out her dildo from under the bed and swiftly inserting it between her legs.
“If you’re going to do that,” I countered, “then I’m going to have some fun too. You’re not the only one with toys anymore.”
I rummaged through the closet and found my Stoya Fleshlight.
“No, Daddy! You wouldn’t dare!” she cried, still masturbating. “You wouldn’t have her when you could have me, would you?”
“Lo, I’m not having you.”
She grabbed Stoya from my hands and began touching her pussy lips.
“You can lubricate her for me, if you want,” I said.
She put out her hand and took some lube from the bottle as I squeezed it into her palm.
She stroked the pussy gently as I held my love organ in my hands.
“You like fingering her?” I asked.
No response.
“Are you thinking of Rain right now?”
“How’d you know?” she asked.
I was standing next to the bed as I watched all of this happening. Then Lo slid so that her legs were dangling off the side of the bed. With one hand she kept the dildo rhythmically fucking her pussy and with the other hand she slid Stoya’s pussy over my rock-hard cock.
“You like that, Daddy?”
Now I didn’t answer.
She went back and forth with the Fleshlight, fucking my cock with it as she fucked herself with her dildo.
“That’s it, Daddy, fuck her. Fuck her like you’d fuck me,” she said until she squirted all over the wood floor next to the bed. At the sight of her ejaculation, I grabbed Stoya with both hands and fucked Stoya hard and fast. Lo reached down, underneath and held my balls. She likes to feel them contract when I ejaculate. I came and came a lot inside Stoya.
After we cleaned everything up, Lo lay in my arms. She fell right to sleep. I held her and thought of the sound of the waves gently rolling over the silent sand of the beach in the moonlight.
