We want to send a big shout out and many kisses to Girl on the Net for posting a sexy sample of our newly available audio book of “Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl.” The original hard copy is quite expensive, but worth it. The ebook is very affordable. But this audio book is a totally new immersive experience, thanks to the fabulous talent of Ms. Jupiter Grant of Jupiter’s Lair, the narrator!
Go give it a free listen today and, if you love it, which you will, order your own copy.
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.
Last I remembered, Lo had engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between Robert and me. When I woke in the morning, she was sound asleep, her back toward me, and Robert had his hands around her waist. I was turned toward them, my arm drooped over her side, my hand fondling her breast, and my cock rigid and eager for more attention.
I carefully extricated myself from the bed, found a robe and quietly went to the kitchen to make some coffee.
As I sat down to take my first sip, Lo suddenly appeared in the kitchen wearing one of Roberts t-shirts and nothing else. She was carrying a bundle of clothes.
“Here,” she said, passing the clothes off to me.
“And a good morning to you too,” I said sarcastically.
“Get dressed.” They were my clothes.
“What?”
“Get dressed. You have to get out of here.”
I was perplexed. “What do you mean I. . .”
“Imogen is still sleeping. When she wakes up, she can’t find you here. Remember, she thinks I’m Robert’s girlfriend and you’re just Robert’s friend. You have to go home.”
“Are we still putting on that little ruse?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, if that’s the case, why don’t I just crawl into bed with Imogen?”
Lo gave me an angry look.
“Ok, Ok,” I said. “I’ll get dressed and go.”
She gave me a quick peck on the cheek to show her appreciation. “Don’t worry, Daddy,” she said, “I will make it up to you.”
My cock must have liked her tone because it immediately popped up like a little puppy who just heard the treats bag open.
“Nope, none of that now,” said Lo curtly, before turning tail and returning to the bedroom with Robert.
I dutifully got dressed and went home to shower, have more coffee, and nurse my hangover.
Sometime later I got a call from Lo. She sounded out of breath.
“Lo?”
Pause. “Yeah?”
“Are you ok?”
Pause. “Yeah.”
“Are you at Robert’s?”
Pause. “Yeah.”
“Are you fucking?”
“Yes, Daddy, he’s behind me, fucking my ass now. What would you like us to do next?”
I won’t deny that I was titillated by the call, but I was also furious. I was home, hard-up and hungover, while she was being banged by her backdoor man.
“I want you to tell me you love me.”
Long pause. “I – I – I love you, Daddy,” I heard.
I put the phone down for a moment and hurriedly grabbed my Stoya Fleshlight, some lube, and picked up the phone again. Lo was screaming. I could hear Robert smacking her ass.
“Daddy, I love you,” she repeated.
I slid the prosthetic vagina down on my cock. I held the phone with my left hand and slid the contraption up and down with my right. I listened to Lo getting fucked. She was calling out, “Harder. Harder. Deeper. Cum in my ass. Cum deep in my ass.” As she was saying that, I thought of how Robert came in her mouth after fucking her ass yesterday.
“Daddy,” she said into the phone, “I want him to cum in my ass. Do you want him to cum in my ass too?”
My eyes were shut. I was vividly imagining her bent over his dresser, Robert behind her, looking at her tits swinging in the mirror as he fucked her from behind. I pictured her left hand holding the phone to her ear and her right hand moving back to her ass, pulling her right cheek to spread as wide as she could go for him to bury his long dick in her bum. Maybe she was fingering her hole as well.
I heard her ramping up, going into the overture to her orgasm.
I slid Stoya’s cunt up and down more vigorously and I could feel my cuckolded cum rising to the surface. Lo launched into her operatic aria and I could hold out no longer. I came and came deep inside Stoya as Robert came deep inside Lola.
A perfect triple play!
After we all were able to bask in the beauty of the trifecta, Lo stayed on the phone with me as Robert went to clean up.
“Did you like that, Daddy?” she asked.
“You. Are. Amazing,” was all I could say.
“Do you like seeing him make me cum, Daddy?”
“I didn’t see you,” I said, confused.
“I meant yesterday.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You’re a dirty, dirty girl.”
“Am I bad?”
I changed the topic, fearing she’d get all riled up again. “Is Imogen still there?” I asked.
“Oh her? No. She woke up, I think a little embarrassed and very hungover, and we called her a cab. She only had fragments of memory from last night, but she asked me to say something nice to you.”
“Oh, and what was that?”
“She really just said, ‘Say something nice to him.’”
I laughed and she did too. Apparently all was forgiven. Nothing absolves me of my transgressions like Lola’s seducing men to sodomize her.
“I’m having a dinner party on Friday,” said Robert to Lo as he was about to depart from one of his rendezvous romps with Lo in our bedroom. She was standing naked in the hallway and I was opposite her, fully dressed, holding a tumbler of whiskey. Robert was between us, but facing Lo. “I was hoping you both would come,” he continued as he turned to me.
Lo walked up to him, a sparkle in her eye, and grabbed his arm. “That sounds like fun,” she said, without even consulting me or my calendar. “Who’ll be there?”
“It’s a group of colleagues from Australia. They’re here for a conference and my department nominated me to welcome them.”
“Australia!” Lo exclaimed. “I love going down under.”
“You’ve never been there,” I said, without thought to her double-entendre.
“I can’t wait,” she said without regard for my remark. “What time is the party?”
“I’ve invited people for seven,” he said, and before he could say any more Lo interrupted.
“We’ll come over at five! I love party planning!”
“But. . .” stammered Robert. “I was just inviting you to. . .”
Lo grabbed his arm and said, “A bachelor like you needs help throwing a party. Trust me. It takes a woman’s touch.” She leaned in closer to him and kissed him, her naked body pressed against his clothes as her left hand reached down and stroked his cock over his pants. “We’ll see you at five.”
Robert turned, nodded to me, and left in a rush, slightly embarrassed perhaps.
Friday Lo left work early and spent time at home getting all dolled up. By the time I walked through the door, she was wearing her black pumps, her short black skirt, and a low cut, tight fitting blouse. Her red lipstick stood out against all the black.
“Hi Daddio!” she said, “I thought you’d never get home. Are you ready to go?”
“I guess,” I said.
“Oh no,” she replied, looking me over. “You can’t go like that. Here, let me dress you.”
She led me to the bedroom where she promptly picked out exactly what she wanted me to wear.
“No, not that. I can’t stand that shirt,” I said.
“It looks great on you.”
“It’s too constricting.”
“We can’t all wear sweats all the time you know.”
“Just anything but that.”
“Fine,” she said, picking out an equally disliked shirt. I made no argument because I could see her determination.
“You just like me because I’m like you’re little plaything that you can dress up, take out, and show off,” I said.
“I could say the same about you, but I dress myself up, take myself out, and show myself off.”
“Touché.”
We left and Lo was very anxious and eager in the car. She kept rubbing my crotch as I drove and talking about the party. At some point I turned to her and said, “You know, Lo, it’s not planned to be a gangbang?”
“Who says?” she pouted.
We arrive just before five. Robert had four grocery bags full of food on the kitchen table. His plan included baking fish, a pasta side-dish, and a pie, as well as lots and lots of appetizers. Lo dove in, but before getting to work, she said, “I don’t want to get my outfit dirty while prepping.” She stripped down naked, but for her heels, and put on a cooking apron. Where it tied in the back revealed her sexy sweet ass. She was the picture of domestic bliss.
Lo was fast, efficient, and knew exactly what she wanted. Both Robert and I fumbled to keep up with her. But eventually we had everything laid out nicely, ready to receive Robert’s international cadre.
Surveying the open-plan living room and dining room, Lo seemed well pleased with her accomplishment, but then she said, “I just realized, I’m starving.” Between the kitchen and the dining room there was a tall half-wall that had a number of appetizer dishes laid out on it. Lo bent over and leaned on the wall, looking at the appetizers. As she did, her right hand moved down, behind her cooking apron and to her ass where Robert, who stood behind her could see. She added, “And I’m horny. Robert, are you up to fuck me?” she asked as she slapped her ass loudly to get his attention, as if he wasn’t already staring at her cunt.
Without a word, as if her ass slap was a special language between them, he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock. As he approached her from behind, she looked up at me and said, “Daddy, feed me.”
I was standing in the kitchen and saw her open her mouth. I picked up one of the small hors-d’oeuvre’s and raised it to her lips. She bit her lip as Robert entered her, but then she opened wide and took the whole thing.
“Feed me,” she commanded again as Robert was going at her from behind.
I selected a different delight for her.
Robert grabbed onto her waist. I continued to feed her and I said, “Lo, you want me to make you plump?”
“Yes Daddy. I want to be phat for you. I want to be soft and doughy.”
I continued to feed her and Robert continued to fuck her.
“Lo,” I said as I watched her tum and tits jiggle beneath her as Robert thrusted from behind, “I love your fat, your flab, your rolls, your chub, your pudge, your every delightful round, juicy, plump, perfect curve.”
She came. Then she said to me with a breathy voice, “Get me that.”
At first I didn’t know what “that” was, but she pointed. It was a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. I went to pass it to her, but she just held out her hand and said, “Pour.” I put a little in the palm of her hand. She reached back and applied it to her special spot.
“Robert,” she said, “You may have my ass now.”
Lo knew very well how, as permissive as I am, the granting of that one reserved pleasure makes me jealous. I should be the one to get the benefit of her ass. But I let her have her way. He entered her slowly as she guided him with her slippery hand. She moaned. He said, “Lo, you’re so tight.”
“Feed me!” she commanded me again. I obeyed. By this point the cooking apron’s knot had come untied and was drooping beneath her, only held up by the collar around her neck. Her tits were flopping forward and back as Robert thrust with strong movements deep in her ass. I saw her hands grab onto the marble of the countertop as she braced for a powerful orgasm. Robert began to moan loudly as he was on the cusp of cumming in her ass and Lo squeezed her knees together and held on tightly to the marble. She squirted all over Robert’s legs and the floor as he pulled out. Then Lo either decided or instinctively did something to get my ire up (and something else up). She turned round rapidly and got on her knees to take Robert’s cock in her mouth and let him explode there. She was still squirting on the floor in spurts and, when Robert finally pulled out of her hungry mouth, she collapsed in her own lady juices on the hardwood floor. Her legs were like jelly now. She squirted again as she said, “Holy fucking shit!” with both hands between her legs in a futile attempt to stem the flood.
Lola
Robert ran to the bathroom and got a few towels. He and I both helped Lo up and onto the couch, careful to place another towel under her before setting her down.
Robert dutifully cleaned up the mess on the floor and I gently kissed Lo’s forehead until she had regained some of her strength.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Robert cheerfully.
I removed Lo’s wet shoes and got a few paper towels to dry them off and clean them up.
Soon enough everything was neat and tidy again. Lo went to the bathroom to change back into her party outfit and spruce up a bit, leaving Robert and me alone.
“You know, you have an amazing woman,” he said. “Not only is she a fucking crazy nympho, but she can cook and host a party.”
“She’s pretty smart, too,” I added.
“That goes without saying,” he replied.
When Lo returned to the room, she looked ravishing. Even if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, her glow said, “I just got fucked beyond consciousness.” Too bad she had already been ravished by Robert and the guests were due soon, meaning I would be hard up the rest of the evening.
While she and Robert were in the living room and I in the kitchen, she said something to him I couldn’t hear. Then she came to me and was very demure.
“Daddy?” she opened.
“Yes,” I said without a hint of emotion, which gave away that I was very emotional.
“Are you mad?”
“No, Lo,” I said, perhaps lying, though I really didn’t know my own feelings.
“Kiss me,” she said.
I hesitated, but she came close and kissed me, open mouth, with lots of tongue.
When she was done, I said, “Well, wasn’t that just the coup de grâce?”
She replied, “You mean crudités?”
“I don’t know, was taking his cock in your mouth right from your ass merely an appetizer, or was it the final blow?”
“Well,” she said with a wicked smile, “I hope not final!”
She kissed me again and grabbed my package as she did saying, “Admit you liked it, Daddy?”
I said nothing, but my silence gave me away. I couldn’t both feign anger and be aroused at the same time, and the two contradictory feelings in me were wreaking havoc on my tortured soul.
Then she revealed to me the plan she and Robert had concocted together. Actually, that’s not fair. I’m sure that it was all Lo’s idea.
“Daddy,” she began, gently grabbing my arm.
“Yes?”
“If it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”
Late
one night, Lo got a text from Robert.
“Can I come over?” it read.
We
were in bed. I was reading. She was looking at who-knows-what on her
phone. She showed me the text.
“It’s
rather late, is it not? What’s he want?”
“Do
you want me to find out?”
“Sure.”
“Cum
over whom?” she texted back.
“Ha
ha,” he wrote. “You read my mind.”
“You’re
hard up and you just want to come here and use me?” she texted back.
There
was no response for a while, just ellipses displayed on the phone screen as if
he was texting and then deleting his text, not sure what to say. Lo texted him, “Is that it?”
Finally
he responded with, “Well. . .”
“Then
say it,” she demanded.”
“I’m
hard up and I want to come over and use your sweet body,” he texted.
She
was fingering herself now. Lo loves to
be longed for. “Good boy,” she
wrote. “HH is here.”
“Is
it ok with him?” he asked.
“Is
it ok with you?” Lo asked me.
“If
you want to,” I said, “then I’m fine with it.”
“Drive
fast,” she wrote to Robert.
She
reached under the bed and pulled out her double-ended dildo. She began plunging away.
“Lo,
you wouldn’t rather I do that?” I asked.
“OK,
here,” she said, getting on all fours and turning her ass toward me so I could
grab the dildo and use it on her.
“I
meant, wouldn’t you rather that I
fuck you?” I asked, taking the end of the dildo in hand and pushing in, pulling
out.
“Oh,”
she said. “I hadn’t thought of
that. Actually, I’d prefer this because
I’m saving myself for Robert.”
I
had to laugh. “Saving yourself?”
“Yeah. And saving you. You are not to cum until I give you explicit
permission.”
“Ah,
Lo, my slut and savior.”
She
came.
She
squirted all over the bedsheets.
“Fuck!”
she exclaimed, half in anger and half in ecstasy. “Now I have to strip.”
“You’re
already naked.”
“Strip
the bed.”
She
got up, and hurriedly pulled everything off the bed and then made it again with
fresh linens.
The
doorbell rang.
“Don’t
worry, Lo,” I said, “I’ll get it.”
She
wasn’t worried. She was lying in the newly
made bed and using her phone camera as a mirror, looking at herself. “You’ll show him in, won’t you?” she said in
a faux high-class 1940’s era movie accent.
“Yes,
madam,” I replied, like her butler, as I left the room.
At
the door I said, “Robert, so good to see you,” as I extended my hand to shake
his. “You must be here to see Lo. Please, follow me.” I led him down the hallway to the master
bedroom. “Right this way. She is expecting you.”
Robert,
embarrassed, didn’t even say anything.
He just had a sheepish smile on his face. He knew what he was there for. I knew what he was there for. And he knew that I knew what he was there
for.
As
I opened the door to the bedroom, I saw Lo in the bed under the covers, but
with her breasts exposed. Though the
covers were over her, I could see that her legs were spread and her hands
between them. “Thank you HH,” she said,
dismissively.
“Ready Daddy”
Robert
walked into the bedroom like a boss. I
walked away. When I got to the living
room, I saw that Lo had snapped a photo of herself and sent it to me. It was a sexy tease.
From
the living room I could hear the rhythmic sound of the bed moving, Lo moaning
and then calling out, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes, harder, yes!”
A
few moments later I heard her saying her familiar refrain, “I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m cumming.”
Minutes
after that, I heard the bedroom door open and saw Robert walk down the
hallway. I stood up. I met him at the front door. He didn’t know what to say.
“Care
for a drink?” I asked.
“No
thank you, HH,” he said politely.
“Well,
come again,” I said as I opened the door.
He
walked out. I walked to the
bedroom. Lo was now lying on the bed,
completely naked, the blankets strewn about, her legs spread and her hands
cupped over her cunt.
“Come,
Daddy,” she said. “Hurry.”
I
got naked and was between her legs looking down at her. She pulled her hand away and I saw her oozing
with Robert’s cum. “Get in me,” she
commanded.
I
obeyed.
“That
was fast,” I remarked.
“Fast,
hard, and soooo good,” she said.
“You
liked it?”
“I
loved it.”
“What
about his, you know, his problem?”
“He
had no problem tonight.”
“Lucky
you.”
“Yeah,
he told me that knowing you were in the next room and that you could hear it
all excited him. He really liked that.”
“Glad
I could be of help,” I said.
“Do
you like putting your cock into the puddle he made in me?”
“Yes.”
“Do
you like that I’m such a dirty little whore?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like when my cunt is filled
with cum from your friends, Daddy?”
“Mmmmm,”
was all I could say as dipped my stick deep into her wet, warm, and worn puss.
“Do
you. . .”
I
came, adding to her collection, before she could properly get through her cuck
catechism.
“Do
you. . .”
Filled and oozing
“I
love you, Lo,” was all I managed to say.
“Yeah,
well, I didn’t cum yet,” she said, upset.
“You
came with Robert and you came before Robert with your dildo.”
Friday and finally all my meetings were over. I flew home that night. I hadn’t heard from Lo since the previous night when she enigmatically told me that she had dinner with Robert. I was eager to see her. I was hard-up and aching for release. On top of that, there was the tantalizing mystery of what happened on her “date” with Robert. Just to make matters worse, fate so ordained it that on my flight home I was seated next to a young, attractive college girl wearing a tight fitting miniskirt and a low cut blouse. Her breasts were full and, when placing her carryon in the storage compartment above, she stretched and revealed a delectable midriff and even some under-boob. When we sat down, she saw that I was reading Fast Girl, the book by Suzy Favor Hamilton about her life as a high-end Vegas escort and her sex addiction.
Suzy Favor Hamilton
“What
is that?” she asked, naively, but with a hint of being in-the-know.
“It’s
a memoir,” I said tersely. Her interest
made me nervous. Her looks made me more
nervous. Her age made me simply
petrified – in every sense of the term.
“I
think I’ve heard of it. It’s about. . .”
her brow wrinkled with the struggle of recall.
“A
woman who leads a double-life as a devoted wife and mom and as a prostitute.”
“Oh,”
she said, shocked at my candor. She
quickly followed it up with a smile and, “Do you like it?”
Suzy Favor Hamilton
There
was a mischievousness to her question that indicated to me that she wanted to
know what turns me on.
“It’s
my homework,” I said, as if that negated any pleasure I may derive from it.
“Homework?”
she asked. “What class are you in?” She wanted to enroll.
“My
girlfriend assigned it to me. She said
it would help me understand her better. The last assignment was Getting Off, about a woman addicted to
self-pleasure through humiliation porn.”
“Girlfriend?”
she asked. “Aren’t you married?” she
inquired while indicating my wedding band.
Clearly she was interested in more than my reading material.
“Oh
that,” I said, “I wear it to keep the ladies away.” My standard line.
“Yeah
right,” she said. “Every guy knows that
nothing attracts single women like a man who’s spoken for.”
“You
got me there,” I said. She was
attracted. This would be a l-o-n-g
flight.
“I
wish,” she said under her breath. “So,
your girlfriend – or whatever – is addicted to porn?”
“I
don’t know that she’s addicted to porn.
She likes porn. But she
definitely is addicted to pleasure.”
“I
know the feeling,” she said.
“Is
that so?”
“Would
you like to know the feeling?”
“Look,”
I said, “what’s your name?”
“Kayla,”
she said. Of course her name was Kayla.
“Look
Kayla, I’m already involved with a nymphomaniac. It takes every ounce of my energy, focus,
concentration, devotion, love, and chi to satisfy her. . . and still I come up
short. I appreciate your interest. I really do, but I’m on my way back home to
see her, and, well, to be honest, the beautiful batting of your eyelashes is
very well and good, but I’ve got a perfect slut waiting for me at home.”
If
this attractive, flirty, young woman had been sitting next to me on the departure
flight, when I was more mad at Lo than missing her, things may have been
different. Even then, the fact is, no
matter how angry I am with her, I still love Lo. And I know, no matter how attractive other
women may be, the witty repartee that Lo and I have is inimitable.
I tried to make my
position clear. She accepted the
boundaries I had set. But she switched
gears and now asked me all about Lo. I
gladly told her. It was probably my best
in-flight conversation. By the time we
landed, despite our fight or because of it, I wanted Lo more than ever. (I gave Kayla the blog address, just so she could
see for herself how it’s done.)
I
got home and as soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in for trouble. Lo wasn’t talking to me except monosyllabic
words. “Hi.”
“How
are you?” I asked.
“Fine.”
You
get the gist. But she was dressed in a
pink sleeveless t-shirt and her black lace panties. That’s it.
She pranced around with her hard nipples poking through the front of her
shirt, her side-boobs bouncing and peeking out from the open underarms. She.
Looked. Good.
Surf’s Up
I
was hard.
I
wanted her.
I
needed her.
I
had no idea how to approach her.
So
I took the direct approach: “You wanna fuck?”
“Your
seduction technique is so subtle, yet captivating,” she said.
I
knew I was making good progress because captivating is four syllables.
“Yeah,”
I said, nonchalantly.
“Then
why are you still wearing your clothes?”
I
stripped and she pulled down her panties.
Her
pussy was smooth, shaven, pink and beautiful.
“What’s
the occasion?” I asked.
“This?”
she asked, stroking her lovely mons pubis.
“Yeah,”
I said, “that.” For a moment I was under
the impression that she was anticipating my return and that she had shaved for
me. She disabused me of that notion
right away.
“I
told you,” she said, “I was seeing Robert last night.”
We
were in the bed now. I was looking down
at her lovely body. “You did that for
Robert?”
“Semper
fi,” she said.
“Semper fi?” I asked,
perplexed.
“Yeah,”
she said, “Always prepared; the motto of the marines.”
“Semper
fi means ‘always faithful.’”
“Oh,”
she said. “Whoops!”
“You
can say that again. So, were you
faithful?”
“Fuck
me and I’ll tell you.”
I
was arched over her and I enjoyed looking at her beautiful body as her hand
guided my protruding member up and down her wet labia. “Come on, Daddy,” she said, “fuck me. You know you need it. Take it.”
I
penetrated her. From the feel of things,
she needed me as much as I needed her.
Once
I had fully engorged her, I asked, “So, what happened last night?”
She
was too busy enjoying my rod. She came
within seconds.
I
waited for her to catch her breath.
“Tell me,” I commanded.
“I
met him at his house,” she said in her breathy voice.
“What
were you wearing?”
“A
short skirt. My leather boots. A tight top.”
“Go
on.”
“I
met him there. He kissed me hello.”
“On
the lips?”
“Yes.”
“Mighty
forward of him.”
“I
made sure it was on the lips.”
“Oh.”
“We
talked a little and then he drove us to the restaurant. I think he liked being seen in there with
me. It looked like a first or second
date, I’m sure.”
“What
did you talk about?”
“Him,
mostly. His needs. His wants.
His desires.”
“Oh,
so you talked about you.”
“You
could say that.”
She
came again. Nothing excites her as much
as she.
“And
then?”
“We
went back to his place. He invited me
in. He offered me a drink. We sat on the couch. Before I finished my first drink, we were
making out. His hands were under my top,
feeling my breasts, pulling my nipples.”
Too
much! I came.
As
I pulled out of her and rolled on my back, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll have
to wait to hear how the night ended.”
“Uh-uh,”
I said, “You’re going to finish this slut-saga tonight.
“Only
if you’ll fuck me again.”
“Start
talking. You know what your words do to
me.”
She
moved closer to me and her index finger twirled around my flaccid cock as she
spoke:
His fingers were running up and down
my clit over my panties. Within a couple
of strokes, my panties were soaked. He
could feel it.
‘Why
have you held out on me all this time?’ I asked Robert as he was feverishly
trying to slide my panties over my boots.
He got them off and he was trying to
remove my skirt, but it has a zipper in the back. I kissed him and slowly stood up, turned
around, and let him unzip it. The skirt
fell to the floor and he felt my bare ass with his hands and then he began
kissing it.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Even more beautiful than in your photos.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, turning around
to face him. He saw my silky smooth
pussy. He kissed it. I came.
I came hard just from the light touch of his lips on my soft
triangle. I had to grab his shoulders to
steady myself. I pulled his head in to
my tum and he kissed me as he slowly removed my shirt. He sucked on my tits as I stood totally naked
before him.
‘Here I am, bare as the day I was
born,’ I said, ‘and you have all your clothes on.’
I began unbuttoning his dress
shirt. I got him out of it and out of
his t-shirt. I then got him to stand as
I got on my knees and I undid his belt, his pants button, his fly, and slowly
pulled down his trousers. I could see
his enormously long cock in his boxers.
I wanted it. I pulled down his
boxers and there it was, just as I remembered it. It was beautiful, but it was as soft as you
are right now.
I
was soft, but getting harder. “He did
tell us that he has a performance problem,” I said.
“Yeah,
I know,” she said. “I sucked on it and
gave it my best blowjob, but damn it all, I couldn’t get it hard.”
“Really?!” That was a first.
“Yeah,”
she said.
“Please
demonstrate,” I asked. “Perhaps there is
a problem with your technique.”
That
really pissed her off. Never insult Lo’s
skills in the bedroom, or any other room.
She
put her mouth on my cock and said, “I have impeccable technique.” That she did.
She worked on my slack slinky and it slowly regained some rigidity.
As
she lifted her soft lips off my stuff, she said, “He didn’t respond to my
loving labia, so I got under him and opened wide, taking his huge balls in my
mouth. That he liked. It got an immediate reaction.”
“You
are fond of instantaneous reviews.”
“He
then guided me to the bedroom where. . .”
“No,
wait,” I interrupted, “let me get in you now.”
I was hard-up and wanted to hear the end of her story from a position
that would allow me to gage her level of excitement. I slid my arousal-meter inside her and she
continued.
“We got into bed
and, well, he was still having difficulty performing. I asked him, ‘Do you want to look at some
porn together?’”
“You wanted it
bad, didn’t you?” I asked.
“I’m always up for
porn,” she said, nonchalantly. “And he
was too. He pulled up the blog.”
“Our blog?!”
“Yes. What other blog?”
“OK.”
“And we scrolled
through some pics together. He settled
on one of you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. And he got hard.”
“You’re kidding
me.”
“No I’m not. I asked him, ‘You like his cock?’ and he
said, ‘Yes.’”
“You wouldn’t put
me on like that, would you?”
“I swear,” she
said, sincerely. “I asked him more about
it and he told me that he thinks his problem might be that he’s gay. He said he likes being with women, but he gets turned on by looking at guys.”
“So what did you
do?”
“We looked at some
more porn together, mostly gay porn, cuck porn, and swinger porn. He eventually turned me over, doggy-style,
put his laptop on my back, and fucked me from behind.”
“He used you like
a coffee table?!”
“Well, if someone
invented a cross between a coffee table and a fuck doll, then, yes.”
“Good idea.”
“And then he asked
me if he could go in my ass.”
“The audacity of
that man!”
“And I said yes.”
“You little slut.”
“Yes, Daddy. Say it again.
You’re turning me on.”
“You skank. You trollop.”
“He went in my ass
and then he asked, very politely, if he could cum in me.”
“You anal
whore. I bet you wanted him to.”
“Well, I had cum
so many times by that point, it only seemed fair.”
After she said
that, I came, not in her ass, but deep in her, for the second time.
“I’m glad you were
able to be so charitable while I was away,” I said. I have to admit, I felt a twinge of jealously
and, for a moment, I regretted not taking advantage of my opportunity on the
plane.
“Why didn’t you
sleep over?” I asked her.
“It had been a
long time since I had anal sex,” she began to say.
“Don’t I know it,”
I added.
“And so I wanted
to go home to clean up. I’m sorry, but I
may have made a bit of a mess on your car seat.”
I had been away for three days and I hadn’t heard from Lo. She hadn’t heard from me either because before I left we hadn’t properly made up after our fight. On the fourth day of my five day trip I received a text from her around 6:00 pm. It simply said, “Dinner plans with Robert tonight.”
I
immediately called her. The stalemate of
silence be damned, I had to know the details.
Was this a date? What had
transpired to bring this about? Had she
been having “dinner plans” with Robert all week? There were so many questions swirling in my
mind unanswered. I had to know.
“Hello,”
she said coldly.
“Hello,” I
said imitating her tone.
“Did you
call for something?”
“I just,
um, thought I’d say hi.”
“Hi,” she
said flatly.
“What’s
this I hear about plans with Robert?” I got right to the point since it was
obvious why I was calling and I might as well drop the subterfuge.
“He and I
are going to dinner tonight,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Going out
or going to his place?”
“Out.” She wasn’t revealing many details and I could
tell she was secretly delighting in my curiosity. She was hoping it was a manifestation of
jealously.
“Like, to a
restaurant.”
“That’s
usually where couples go out for dinner.”
“Oh, so now
you’re a couple, are you?”
“I’m just saying,
in general. But there will only be the
two of us.”
“Sounds
romantic,” I said with some sarcasm.
“A gal of
my age, my looks, my intelligence deserves some romance.” Ouch!
Cutting.
“Well, have
a good time.”
“I intend
to.”
“OK,” I
said, hurt from her comment, “bye.”
She just
hung up.
In this
little game of cold shoulder, she was winning because she had a hot body
attached to that cold shoulder. Damnit!
There was
nothing I could do from hundreds of miles away but wait, for I knew that if something
sexual were to happen between them, she wouldn’t delay in telling me, if for no
other reason than to make me jealous.
Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t jealousy I was feeling, but longing,
curiosity, desire, and a prurient prick of stimulation by my groin. In other words, I wanted her. I wanted her to want him and for him to have
her and I wanted to be in on it. But I
was on the outs.
So I
waited. And waited. And waited.
It was past ten, then eleven, and finally midnight when finally I got a
text from her. It read, “Driving
home. You can call me if you want.”
Date Night
She knew
me. In the battle of
who-can-outlast-whom, she outwitted me.
She won. There was nothing to do
but concede defeat. I called
immediately.
“Hi,” I
said mawkishly.
“Oh, hi,”
she said, as if surprised by my call. A
total ruse.
“How was
your night?”
“It was
good.” She wasn’t going to reveal
details until I had shown sufficient interest and she had tortured me to teach
me who is boss.
“What did
you do?”
“We had
dinner.”
“And?” she
knew what I wanted to know.
“And then
went to his house.”
“And?”
“And we
talked.”
“And?” I
was getting very frustrated, but I also knew she was going to put me through my
paces.
“What would
you like to know, Daddio?” she asked.
The use of Daddio meant two things: 1) Something salacious happened; 2)
She felt vindicated enough to return to her proper role.
“You know,
dear.”
“No, I
don’t. That’s why I’m asking.”
“Well
then,” she said, “you’ll just have to fly back home right away and ask me in
person.
“You’re not
going to tell me?!”
“I’m
exhausted and I’m almost home. Have a
safe flight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
So I was
wrong. She hadn’t felt vindicated
enough. She was going to turn the screw
a little tighter and let me lie awake and suffer my own self-inflicted
punishment. Cruel, cruel woman.
When I
left, Lo and I were in a big fight. It’s
never good to leave for a week-long business trip halfway across the country on
bad terms. Especially with Lo. There wasn’t one thing that was the catalyst
of this rift, but rather lots of little things.
Both she and I had been dealing with pressures at work, I had been
recovering from the flu, she had an unexpected major expense that had to be
paid. We both were stressed, exhausted,
and short-tempered. Each of us had been
prickly with the other, like two porcupines in close quarters.
“Come here,
Daddio,” she said the night before I left as I was getting ready for bed. It was her way of trying to rekindle the
relationship. “I’m so cold. Come and warm me up.” Though she really was cold, she also was
naked on the bed, spreading her legs for me, rubbing her puss.
“Cold? Looks to me like you have a very warm
fleece,” I said of her au naturel triangle, “and all that friction you’re
making might light that bush on fire.”
The words came out more sarcastic and biting than I intended. My loving little banter was not warmly
received.
Watering the Bush
“If you
don’t like it, you can’t have it,” she shot back, covering herself with the
blankets.
“I never
said I didn’t like it.”
“Well, too
late. This bush is only for someone who
truly appreciates me.”
“And who
might that be?”
“ME!” she
said, pulling out her Hitachi, her dildo, and her phone.
No sooner
had she gotten the giant white ice cream cone revved up and the dildo delved in
deep and the phone queued to one of her favorite porn videos than, to her great
surprise, the phone rang! She nearly
jumped out of the bed. She dropped the
Hitachi and it was still buzzing. Her
dildo was left dangling, and she had to fumble with her phone as she said hello
because all the moaning and groaning sounds of the porno film were still
playing.
“Hi Lo,”
the person on the other end said, “Is this an ok time?”
“Yeah. Yes.
Sure. Just one sec.,” said Lo as
she tried to compose herself and shut off all her stimulation devices. Finally she was focused on the call and I
climbed into bed next to her, stroking my cock.
Seeing her pleasure herself still gets me off after all this time. But seeing her interrupted and frustrated is
a rare delight.
It was
Robert. He needed someone to talk
to. He was feeling despondent. And he had been scrolling through the
blog.
I curled up
next to Lo and whispered, “Don’t tell him I’m here,” as I guided my cock into
her cupped hand. She mindlessly gave me
a hand-job as she talked to Robert. Or
rather, I should say, I eased my way in-and-out of her palm. She was unaware of or unconcerned with my
movements.
She talked
to him in a consoling and kind tone, listening to his lament of
loneliness. He hadn’t been with someone
in so long. The night at the museum was
such a powerful moment for him. Since
then he had done more study of Koons and his Made in Heaven installation.
Jeff Koons and his wife Ilona Staller, “Made in Heaven”
When I
heard that, I was both amused and angered.
I’m the one who turned Lo onto Koons! I deserve the credit for that. Whatever.
I continued
to slide my cock in-and-out of her cupped hand.
I kept quiet.
“What did
you like about it?” asked Lo to Robert in her seductive tone of voice.
“I, um, I
liked, I like that you suggested it to me.”
“Really?”
asked Lo, intrigued. “Why?”
“Lo, I, uh,
I never met a woman like you.”
“Go on,”
she said, captivated by the story of herself.
“You’re so
brazen. Is that the right word? So, daring.
So. . .”
“Slutty?”
“That’s not
the word I was going to use.”
“Use it,”
she commanded.
“What?” he
said, as if he hadn’t heard her properly.
“Call me a
slut. I like it. Say it.
I’m touching myself now.”
She
wasn’t. She was holding the phone with
one hand and my member with the other.
“OK,” said
Robert. “You’re a slut.”
“Yesss,”
said Lo.
That was
too much for me. I pulled back and
grabbed my cock and came all over myself as Lo looked on, desirously.
Now she was
touching herself.
“Are you
jackin’ it?” she asked Robert.
“Am I. . .
?”
“Are you
jacking off? Stroking yourself?”
“No,” he
said, as if offended.
“Why not?”
“Lo, I
didn’t call you like someone would call a phone sex service.”
“You
didn’t?”
“No. I. . .”
“But you
can. What do you want to hear?”
There was a
long silence on the other end interrupted only by Lo’s occasional moans of
pleasure. Self-pleasure.
“Do you
want to hear that I loved sucking you off?” she asked.
“You did?”
“Yessss,”
she said.
“Why?”
“I love
sucking cock. Any cock. Lots of cock.
I love helping guys out. I love
giving relief. Let me help you. Are you by your computer?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Pull up a pic of me if you haven’t already.”
“I, I, I,”
Robert stammered.
“You
already had it up, didn’t you?” accused Lo.
“I did,” he
admitted.
“Good. Which pic is it?”
“It’s of you
in your neon blue panties stroking your pussy lips.”
“You like
that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s
beautiful.”
“Well
that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
I’m stroking my wet, pink, pussy lips with my beautifully manicured
fingers, slowly sliding them up and down and in and out. Does that turn you on?”
“Yes.”
“Are you
stroking your cock?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, I want you to hang up the phone and take
pics of you stroking it to my pics. Make
sure my photo is in the frame so I know that I’m the one who is making you hard
and makes you cum. You will cum, won’t
you?”
“If you
want me to.”
“I do.”
“OK.”
“Do it and
send me the pics.”
“OK.”
“And
Robert.”
“Yes?”
“What am
I?”
“A dirty,
filthy slut.”
“That’s
right. Don’t forget it,” she said and
she hung up on him.
I was
cleaning myself off when she got the notification that a text was sent to
her. She opened it. There were three photos. One of Robert jackin’ it to her pics. One of him cumming. And one of the mess he made. Lo looked at them again and again and she
eventually came herself.
“Thanks,” I
said.
“For what?”
she said.
“For making
me cum,” I said.
“Oh, did I
do that?” she asked, sincerely unaware of her passive powers.
The next
morning, before Lo woke up, I was off to the airport, sad that we hadn’t
properly reconciled.
Recently
our financial situation improved. In no
small part, Lo’s getting a full-time job has certainly contributed to our
recovering fiscal health. Now that we
aren’t always scraping by to pay the rent or put food on the table, we actually
have a little bit of money that we can set aside for a rainy day. So, trying to be the responsible adults we
pretend to be, we created a joint savings account. I know, nothing says sexy like money in the
bank. Walking home from the bank,
feeling a sense of accomplishment, I said to Lo, “We’ll call our account ‘The
Community Chest.’”
“Community
Chest! – That’s what they called me in college!” she blurted out with a
smile.
I thought she was
joking and said as much.
“No,” she said,
“that’s really what they called me.
There’s a long story there that I’ll tell you when we get home,” she
said, grabbing hold of my hand and pressing her palm into mine.
When we got home,
I started to make myself a sandwich in the kitchen. “So,” I said to her, “what’s the story from
college?”
“What story?” Lo
asked, playing dumb. She loves to tease
me and see that she has succeeded in piquing my interest.
“You know what
story,” I said, taking out the pickles, “the ‘Community Chest’ story.”
She reached down and
slid her hands from her waist up and under her bust, pushing upwards so that
her cleavage bulged out of the neckline of her black tank top. “You like, Daddy?”
“Yes,” I said,
“but I want to hear the story.”
“Kiss them,” she
instructed.
I wagged my pickle
at her (literally, no pun), and said, “Look here, Lo, if you’re trying to get
me to hop in the sack with you and forego this lovely lunch I’ve just made,
you’re in for some disappointment.”
“I’ll be your
lunch,” she said, standing up, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the
kitchen floor. She stood in her little
black lace panties and her black boots.
“Lola,” I said
plaintively.
“You know,” she
paused and thought and then said, “I’m hungry too.” She sauntered over to the fridge like a stripper
on the stage. She bent over, putting her
ass in the air, standing on her tiptoes, and took a long look at the
contents. “I know what I want to eat,”
she said, turning and walking toward me.
What is there to eat?
“Lo. Lo, I see that look in your eye. Lo.”
It was no use. She dropped to her knees on the kitchen
floor. She undid my belt, unbuttoned and
unzipped my jeans, pulled them down, pulled out my hard cock and filled her
mouth with meat.
Snack
“Fuck my face,”
she asked, looking up at me. “Put your
hands here,” she said, moving my hands to her head, “and push me, use me, fuck
my mouth.” I followed instructions. “Harder, Daddy!” she said before I forced her
back on my rod. I had passed the point
of no return and soon I was filling her up as she ravenously swallowed all I
gave her. It all happened in the matter
of a few moments. Then she got up, took
my plate with the sandwich that I had so carefully prepared, and sat at the
table, taking a big bite of it.
“Mmmmmm,” she said, “can I have a glass of seltzer to go with
this?”
“Lo! That was my
sandwich!” I rebuked as I pulled up my jeans.
“I just wanted a
bite. Here you have it.”
“No, it’s yours,”
I said dejectedly as I got her a drink.
“No, I feel
bad. Have half.”
“Fine.” I sat across from her and we ate. “Now,
tell me the story.”
“Well,” she began,
chewing, “you remember Ryan?”
“No, I don’t
remember Ryan.”
“Ryan, the boy
from college.”
“I’m going to need
a little more to go on than that. There
were a lot of boys from college.”
“I told you about
how one night after watching a movie in a friend’s dorm, he and I crashed there
on the sectional couch.”
“I vaguely recall
that.”
“You just want me
to tell you again.”
“Indulge me.”
“Well, we got to
talking in hushed tones about sex.”
“And who initiated
that topic?” I asked sarcastically.
“He was curious
about my masturbatory practices,” she said, ignoring my question. “I told him that I jill it once a day – at
least.”
“Oh yes, I
remember that story now.”
“Well, there’s
more to it than that. Come to the bedroom
and I’ll tell you the rest.”
I followed her
sexy ass to the bedroom, got naked, and climbed into bed with her.
She got on her
back and spread her legs. Putting her
hand down there, under the covers, she continued in breathy tones. “I was masturbating under the covers, like I
am now, as I talked to him in the dark.
I imagined that he was masturbating too.
I asked him about his girlfriend – someone I didn’t really know. He said that he wasn’t too happy with her and
I asked him why he didn’t break up with her.
He said, ‘because she gives really good blowjobs.’ I said, ‘Oh yeah? Tell me how you like it.’ He told me about what she does, adding, ‘but
I don’t think she really enjoys it.’”
Lo was pulling on
her nipples now and squirming in the sheets.
“I was sad to hear
that.”
“I’m sure you were
broken up about it,” I added full of sarcasm.
“I told him, ‘You
should try getting a blowjob from someone who really enjoys it.’”
“Did you give him
one?”
“I really really
wanted to.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“But he was too shy.”
“Too shy?!”
“Or
something. Maybe he felt bad cause of
the girlfriend. Whatever the reason, I
didn’t get to give it to him. I just
masturbated till I came. After that
night, there were many nights when I’d be in my dorm, chatting on Facebook, and
he’d pop up and quickly turn the chat into something sexual.”
“So you had
virtual sex with him?”
“You could say
that.”
“But that still
doesn’t explain how you got the nickname.”
“I’m getting
there. Give me a minute,” she said as
she climaxed.
I
waited for the waves of pleasure to subside.
She
flipped over and lifted her ass up.
“Fuck me, Daddy, and I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”
“Lo,
you just blew me in the kitchen.”
“Come
on! You can do better than that. Can’t you get it up again?”
Her
belittling comments didn’t help the situation.
“Get
behind me and fuck me,” she demanded.
I
got behind her, but I wasn’t hard. She
reached under the bed and passed me her glass dildo. “Use this for now,” she instructed. I slid the smooth, hefty sculpture into her
slippery puss and she continued talking in spurts.
“He
was a gamer and I think he told his nerdy friends about me. Soon they were inviting me over their dorm
rooms to play with them. They each
wanted me to jiggle their joysticks.”
“I
bet they did.”
“They
were all computer geeks and none of them had much sexual experience. Anyhow, I didn’t actually do anything with
them.”
“Nothing?”
I asked in disbelief.
“Not
much, but they made up stories about me.
They each claimed that they fucked me and so they began calling me the
community chest, bragging that they each made a deposit.”
“And
you let them get away with that?”
“Let
them, I got off on it.”
All
this time I was almost mechanically pushing and pulling the glass object in and
out of her puss as she was backing up and pulling forward on her hands and
knees. Now she said, “Harder,
Daddy. Pay attention to what you’re
doing!”
I
tried to give more attention to her puss, but I had more questions for
her. “So,” I asked, “what did you do with them?”
“Well,”
she said, ramping up again, “like I said, they didn’t have much sexual
experience and when I did try to blow one of them he. . .” she broke off and
began her howling orgasm.
I
pulled the dildo out from her and she squirted, involuntarily, all over the
sheets. She thrust her hands between her
legs, trying to stop the sprinkler, and she exclaimed, “Wow! I feel like a fucking Slip-n-Slide!”
“You’re
more fun,” I said.
Collapsing
in the bed when she was done, I brought a towel over and applied it between her
legs and to the sheets. I asked her
again, “What happened?”
“I
squirted,” she said, annoyed at my ignorance.
“No, silly. I mean, what happened with the geek?”
“Oh, well, I was
on my knees and I unzipped his pants, but when I opened up his fly, I saw that
he had already cum. I said to him, ‘Let
me blow you. You can take my tits out of
my top and suck on them,’ but he was so embarrassed that he just zipped up and
left.”
“And
the thought of that made you cum just now?” I asked.
“No,”
she said, “the thought of making all of his friends cum the night that I went
over there to play video games and they watched me finger myself – that made me cum.”
“Tell
me that story.”
“Another
time, Daddio, when I actually have a shot of getting fucked by you,” she said,
closing up shop for the day.
