“Was I bad, Daddy?”
“Am I a slut?”
“Then fuck me like one.”
Earlier that day, dear reader, we had gone to the beach with our friends Stephanie and Mark. They’re a married couple in their 30’s, they have a couple of young kids, suburban house, everything — a quaint picture of domestic bliss. Then you throw Lo into the mix and, well, you’ll see what unfolds (or unzips).
Stephanie is a work acquaintance of mine who has her office down the hall. Every so often she texts me little notes like, “Lunch today?” followed by a winkface, a smileyface, or some other emoticon that drives Lo crazy! Lo is convinced she has the hots for me. But it’s hard to stay seated atop her high horse when she is just as often on her knees in front of a different man. As you shall soon discover, Lo was in for a dénouement all her own. Lo, it so turns out, has more than your casual fondness for Mark. In fact, she has made it no secret how she feels about him.
The first time we had dinner with them, when Lo first met Mark, Lo rushed us home and threw me into the bed, jumping on top of me, humping me and, looking down at me from where she lifted and descended at a rising trot’s pace, she asked, “Do you think he wants me?”
“Yes, Mark,” she said, panting.
She didn’t even let me answer before she finished. Apparently just the mention of his name was enough to get her heart palpitating.
She fell down next to me and, caressing her soft lower lips, she said, “He’s hard-up.”
“How do you know?”
“Did you forget that Stephanie and I had lunch together a few weeks ago?”
“And she told you that?”
“I have my ways of getting information. I know that they have sex once every six months, if that. And it’s not for his lack of wanting.”
“Do you think he wants you?”
“Fuck me and I’ll tell you.”
She spread her legs and I slid in.
“He’s so tall,” she began, “and sitting next to him I could tell that he was looking down my blouse at my tits all night.”
“I did notice that.”
“And his long legs touched mine under the table.”
“And his cock!” She was cumming again. “His cock is huge. I could see it bulging right through is pants. Oh, it’s such a waste for her not to be on that every night!!!” She came hard this time.
That dinner date was a few months ago.
Now, we were at the beach and I could tell that Lo was all riled up to see Mark in just his swimming trunks. Knowing where Lo’s attention would fall, I gazed at his crotch and had to admit to myself, she was right — there was no disguising the size of that thing. It was truly amazing that the tip didn’t peek out the bottom of those loose-fitting shorts.
. . .
A group of four men strolled onto the beach with their cooler, chairs, volleyball, and snacks. They set up camp right next to us, attracted to Lo, no doubt. They were all in their twenties, jacked, and looking to have fun in the sun. Lo’s attention was suddenly split between Mark and the men. It looked like the numbers won out — unless Lo was just toying with Mark now the way she had been toying with me. Once she had the fish hooked, she was content to throw it away and see what other catch she could accomplish with her bait.
The guys, after settling in and cracking open a few brews, set up the volleyball net and began a game. Lo looked on enviously.
“Go play,” I said, giving her permission.
“No, you come too,” she said, ambiguously.
“I don’t want to.”
“Mark, will you play?”
Mark was up for it. The two of them approached the guys and soon it was five guys and Lo bouncing the ball back-and-forth. Lo danced upon the sand, dashing here and there, stretching to spike the ball, bending to pick it up, lunging to serve. She was clearly distracting to her teammates and opponents alike. At some points her bikini bottoms were showing her cute ass and at other points her breasts were on the verge of flying out of their cups.
Stephanie talked with me in between rebuking or cautioning the children. We discussed work and then leisure time. I had recounted some of the things that Lo and I had done over the summer thus far. “Wow!” she said, “You two do so much!”
“Well, if I had my druthers, I’d probably just sit at home and read and write, but Lo is always on the go-go-go.”
“One of the downsides of dating. . .” she searched for the least judgmental words she could find, “someone so young.” No matter how she said it, it dripped with derision.
“She keeps me young,” I said, simply, with a smile on my face as I watched my young nymph flirt with the four guys and Mark.
The sun was beating down and I could see all the players wilting in the noontime heat. They broke up their game and Lo grabbed some cash from her bag and said she was going to get a snow cone.
“You were really playing hard,” I commented.
Out of breath, sweating, she just nodded.
“I mean, hard to get,” I added sardonically.
“Daddio, I don’t play hard to get. I play to get them hard.”
She asked if we wanted something. After putting in my order, I watched as she and two of the young men walked down the path toward the dunes, behind which was the concession stand. Just before they were out of eyeshot, I saw Lo stop and untie the halter-top of her bikini and ask one of the men to fix it for her. He was fixing it from behind while the other guy was in front of her. The guy fumbling with the stings “accidentally” lost his grip of them, letting the top fall. Lo laughed as she pulled it back up. Down it went again as she tried to pass the string to Mr. Butterfingers. They all laughed as Lo covered her breasts with her arm. They retied the knot and walked on. They were away for a long time.
. . .
When we got up to the group, one of the guys asked Lo if she’d like to play some more volleyball now that she cooled off. “The game was tied up. You’re not going to leave it that way, are you?” he asked.
“What’s wrong with being tied up?” asked Lo suggestively.
“I’m game,” said Mark.
“OK,” said Lo, “Let’s play.” She and Mark went over and the six of them volleyed. I saw Lo running and jumping, bending over in a set-stance like Kerri Walsh. At one point, she ran to hit the ball in the far corner of the impromptu court. She missed it. As she fell down and was on all fours, she crawled to the ball and I thought I saw something that I wondered if anyone else saw. I wondered if it was what I thought it was. The sand between her knees was wet. After she tossed the ball to Mark she said, “I have to take a break,” and she came over to me sitting on the towel. Luckily, Stephanie had gone in the water with her kids and was swimming, seeming to ignore the action of the court.
“Lo,” I said, “did you. . .”
“You saw?!” she asked, mortified.
“So you did?”
“Yes. Accidentally. Do you think anyone else saw?”
“Even if they did, your bathing suit is wet from the ocean. They probably just thought. . .”
“But Daddio, I gushed. I’m still gushing,” she said, spreading her legs a bit to show me a burst of clear liquid spraying onto the towel as she accidentally squirted. “This is bad!” she said, adding, “But it feels so good.” A look of relief was on her face after her release.
“Have some water. Stay hydrated and take it easy.”
Lo rolled over on her tum and watched the five guys hitting the ball around.
“Lo,” I said, “If you don’t want to have any more accidental orgasms, then stop looking at the eye-candy.”
“I wish I could,” she said. “Or I wish I could just get good and fucked right now!”
[Excerpt from the story “Beach Bum” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]