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“Let’s stay on the slopes all fucking day.”

“And fuck all night,” she added as she let her naked body down on top of my rock hard cock. She sat above me and, try as she did, she couldn’t contain her involuntary vocal response to the pleasure she was deriving.

“Shhhhh,” I hissed at her.

She only bounced up and down harder on the squeaky bed, causing it to thud against the wall. I reached up and tried to hold her hips down hard on my mast, but she was stronger than I. Up and down she went with little, “Uh, uh, uh, uh,” sounds leaping from her lips each time she descended until she finally fell forward, said, “I’m cumming,” and bit into my shoulder trying to conceal her calls of ecstasy.

When she was done, she sat up, still mounted on me, and whispered, “Do you think they heard me?”

“Um, yes,” I said sarcastically.



She paused a moment and then whispered, “Well, fuck them. They deserve to hear what good sex sounds like.”

The next morning, I was up before the sun, as usual. I had been half awake all night because I hadn’t finished with Lo. She and I were sleeping naked in a very tiny full bed and the feel of her breasts and hips up against my body was infusing my dreams with arousing images.

I snuck out of the small bedroom and down to the living room where I set to work on my computer. Before too long, Carl was up and I surprised him when he walked in.

“What are you doing up?”

“I always get up this early,” I said. “What about you?”

“The fire needs to be stoked or else it gets mighty cold in here mighty fast.”

“Oh,” I said, thinking we’re back to that topic again.

He fueled the fire and got us both some coffee and sat down on the couch across from me. We began talking — at first small talk — but eventually things came round to a discussion of him and Hollis. I think I asked him if they’d be joining us for any runs on the mountain. He had said they wouldn’t because it’s too expensive. They’re saving money. Et cetera.

“Do you two ever get out?” I asked.

“No, not really. I can’t remember the last time we were out on a ‘date’ without the kids.”

“That’s really important for a relationship — any relationship, but especially when there are kids involved.”

“I know,” he said, “but we can’t afford it. Money is really tight with three kids.”

“It doesn’t have to cost anything. You have friends who can watch your kids — like a playdate — don’t you? And then just take her window-shopping or for a coffee or whatever, just to reconnect.”

“The fact is,” he said in a somber tone, “Hollis and I are, well, we’re basically just like roommates now. She has her jobs and responsibilities and I have mine. It’s very utilitarian. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” I said sadly, “I know what you mean.”

“Things haven’t been ‘good’ for a while. I mean, I could go into details, but I’d just be boring you. I mean, you and Lo. . .”

He raised his eyebrows as if to indicate something that couldn’t be spoken. I just elided over it, remembering how loud things had gotten a few hours earlier. Who knows what he and his blushing bride said to each other about our antics.

“It must be a-mazing” he drew out the word for emphasis, “to, well, to have your life.”

“It has its ups and downs,” I said, modestly, but not falsely (thinking about how Lo was bouncing up and down on me the previous night).

“What?! Come on. Downs?”

“Carl, I think I’ve told you as much before, but Lo, well, Lo is something of a nympho.”

He smiled and let out a little laugh.

“I’m serious. I’m not exaggerating.”


No, not at all. I wouldn’t. I told you, back when we first started dating, that it was very, very different dating a girl two generations younger. But back then I just thought that it was due to the newness of the relationship, her age, the fact that we were mad about each other. But her libido never quits. The first bloom on that rose never faded — it grew more intense, if anything. And it really has nothing to do with me. I mean. . .”

I was about to go into some dangerous territory — explaining her desire for more of anything and everything — when suddenly, as if summoned, Lo walked in wearing nothing but her yoga pants and an overstretched t-shirt. She sat down on the brick hearth surrounding Carl’s beloved cast-iron wood burning stove and said good morning to us both.

“Would you like some coffee?” asked Carl.

“So much!” said Lo with a smile.

Carl got up and went to the kitchen — it was an open-plan kitchen and living room so Lo and I couldn’t talk freely. She whispered, “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing, dear,” I replied with a smirk.

Her eyes bugged out at me in annoyance. Carl returned back and he graciously stooped a little to hand Lo her coffee. I could see from my vantage that his angle above her gave him a clear view right down her t-shirt. She made no attempt to thwart his prying eyes.

She sat there and while her mouth made small talk, her body spoke the language of lust — or at least that’s the language I heard it speaking. She was in one of her wicked moods.

Carl got caught up in Lola’s loquaciousness and I felt that for a while he was transported from his confines to an open country of conversation, ideas, and connection; things he’s been sorely lacking for so many years.

But, it ended all-too-quickly when Hollis emerged. I could have sworn I saw him make an almost imperceptible wince as she walked in the room. She took one look at Lo and I distinctly saw on her face a moment of judgment and disapproval. Lo paid her no mind and she got up and graciously offered Hollis coffee, sashaying by her.

Within moments the gaggle of children were up and bandying about. Lo couldn’t get out of that chaos fast enough. She excused herself to take a shower and, on her way out, she indicated to me that I should follow.

I waited in the bedroom for her to get out of the bathroom for almost an hour. When she finally did, she collapsed, naked on the bed and looked up at me with that dreamy look in her eye.

“Took you long enough!” I said.


“What the hell were you doing in there?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“You didn’t?!”

“I did.”

“You’re bad!”

“I know. The water pressure here is awful and the hot water is so inconsistent.”

“It’s a fucking artesian well! You probably depleted their water for the entire winter!”

“Pish-posh. It was worth it.”

I put my hand to my forehead, “Oh, for Pete’s sake!”

“Come here, Daddio,” she said, still lying on her back, looking at me upside down.

I walked up to her. “Feed me,” she said, opening her mouth and trying to unleash my manhood.


She was faster than I and she got it out and into her mouth where she proceeded to deep throat with gusto. She paused only to say, “When you cum — and you will cum — cum on my face. You hear me?”

She resumed her activity and within mere minutes I began to cum in her mouth. She pulled back and placed her face under my spurting spigot until she was covered from her chest to her chin in jizz.

That pretty much set the tone for the entire five day fiasco. Lots of flirting, merriment (not), and dreams deferred — until New Year’s.

[Excerpt from the story, “A Slut Comes to Town,” from the blog:]

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Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail:

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