“Do you see any resemblance?” she asked as we got into bed.
“Lo, you’re doing that thing again where you have a conversation going in your head and you think that I’m privy to it. What are you talking about?”
“Do you see any resemblance between you and Walter Burns?”
We had watched His Girl Friday that night and Lo was very distracted by Cary Grant’s stunning good looks, his witty repartee, and most especially, his thick shock of black hair.
“How do you mean?” I asked, not willing to make the easy self-aggrandizing comparisons. I prefer to hear the compliments from her lips.
“Well, you know, his devotion to Hildy and how he’s constantly distracted from her by his work, his writing.”
“Distracted?!” I said, “I didn’t really notice any similarity.”
“Are you kidding me?!”
“No,” I said, “I actually was thinking more about the similarity between you and Hildy.”
“Yeah, I thought of that too.”
“The way she takes charge, her mannish treatment of those who would treat her like a ‘lady.’ But. . .” She stopped her statement self-consciously.
“It’s too embarrassing.”
“Lo, say it.”
She hid her head under a pillow and said, “But, I was thinking the whole time about how domineering she’d be in bed. Oh, gosh, I’d love to have a wild romp with her.”
“Uh oh. That’s what this is about.”
“Yeah, so!” she said defiantly.
“Tell me whatever it is you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking that I want you, Daddy!”
She began kissing me passionately and then slid her lips down my neck to my shoulder, down my torso, to the pinnacle of my powers. She bestowed kisses and long licks upon the object of her worship before mounting me and cumming within seconds. After she was done, she said, “Thank you, Daddy. You’re the best.”
“I’m no Hildy,” I said.
“I know, but when I think of you, it’s in black and white. Close enough.”
She fell off to sleep leaving me hard up.
[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]