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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.

“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.

“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.

[From the blog:]

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

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