Date With Someone Else

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Around 11:00, when the early cadre of guests from out of town were relaxing and talking after a late brunch, Lo excused herself to take a shower. I knew what she would be up to and I was right. She was in the steamy bathroom for a good hour and when she came out I was in the bedroom and saw her perfectly smooth and silky puss — shaved totally clean and bare. Her legs were softer and smoother than ever I remembered and she had a wide Cheshire Cat grin on her face indicating what naughtiness she was up to in there.

“How many times?” I asked.

“Three?” she said, almost as a question.

“Three?! Really?”

“Is that bad, Daddy?”

“You came three times just now?”

“Fuck me!” she demanded in a whisper as her naked and still dripping body jumped on me and we tumbled into the bed.

“LO! There’s a house full of guests right out that door.”

“I know, Daddy. Fuck me.”

At this point I looked at the clock and it was almost 12:15.

“Don’t you have a date for one?” I asked, knowing full well that she would want to get all dolled up for this occasion.

“Pish-posh,” she said as she spread herself on the bed, reaching down between her legs. “Feel me, Daddy. I’m so wet! Go on. Touch me. Pull me. Slap me.”

I followed her instructions and she squirmed and moaned.

“I squirted so much in the shower — I thought I was peeing!”

Then, just as I began to grow hard and desirous for her, she rolled over abruptly and said, “YIKES! I have to get going.” She got up off the bed and began doing her hair, make-up, nails, and getting dressed.

“What should I wear, Daddy-o?” she asked, though not really asking.

The question, however, put me in a tight spot. Do I suggest something risqué, and thus be a Pandarus to my Criseyde? Or do I suggest something conservative, and thus feel like I’m inhibiting my Lo? Luckily, she didn’t really care either way about my opinion. She knew already what she was going to wear. (She clearly had been thinking about this moment for a while now.)

She put on a black business skirt and her “jack-pot top” — one that accentuates her breasts with its black and white stripes and provides a nice look down her cleavage. Then, for the final touch, she put on a teensy-weensy pink thong and, despite the chilly temperature, no tights (“for easy access,” as she put it). She slipped into her peep-toe heels and out she went to say a cheerful tra-la-la to everyone.

Needless to say, everyone’s jaws just about dropped when they saw her, dressed to kill in the middle of the day, especially after seeing her in her cooking clothes and slippers for much of the past week. “Where are you off to?” they asked, “On a date?”

“Oh, no,” she replied with a musical laugh, “I have a quick business lunch I have to go to before dinner. No worries, I’ll be back on time,” she said, giving me a wink so as to acknowledge our understanding about the rules.

I excused myself from our guests and said that I had to go to my office and I would be giving Lo a ride to her lunch, but that we’d both be back soon.

Lo and I got in the car and immediately she grabbed my right hand and placed it on her knee. “Smooth,” I said.

“You like, Daddy?” she asked.


She pushed my hand up and under her skirt. “Feel,” she said. I felt her puss again. It was tender and warm.

“Oh,” she moaned as she reclined the seat.

“Lo, it’s the middle of the day.”

“I’m so wet. I’m crazy wet. You’re sure I can’t fuck him, Daddy?”

“We went over this,” I said to her sternly.

We arrived by my office and I let her out of the car. Before I drove away to find a parking spot, I called out the window, “Be careful. And call me if you need anything.”

She blew me a big kiss and winked as she trotted up the street to the restaurant.

I parked the car, went to my office and paced. I couldn’t focus on anything, thinking about my baby-girl. I was in a divine state of painful agitation. It lasted the better part of an hour. Their luncheon was at one and her curfew was 2:30. I wondered to myself, “Will I be more angry if she violates the curfew and fucks him or more disappointed if she doesn’t?” It was an unsolvable riddle.

The question turned out to be merely academic since at 2:30 on the dot there was a knocking on my office door. I let Lo in, locked the door, and looked at her. Her skirt was all askew and her face had an even bigger smile on it than when she got out of the shower only a few long hours ago. She immediately planted a big, wet kiss on me, opening her mouth to give me her tongue for a long, steamy tango.

When she was done she sat on the black leather couch and looked up at me. She was eye-level with my cock. She started to undo my belt and my pants.

“What happened, Lo?” I asked as her hands went through their well-learned motions.

“It was n-i-c-e,” she said, very slowly.

“Ok, a little more detail, please. And what happened to your knees?”

I could see on her bare knees the imprint of some sort of pattern.

“Oh, that. That must be from the floor of his truck,” she said with an air of coquettish indifference.

“Care to explain?”

“Well,” she began as she took out my cock, “we met up in the restaurant and I sat next to him rather than across from him as I had imagined I would. Almost no one was there. He was very shy and almost nervous. I had to place his hand on my knee and encourage him to feel up my thigh. But once I did so, he began to relax. I, for my part, put my hand on his knee and grazed his cock once or twice to see if he was hard. He was. We ordered drinks and we drank them fast and then we went out to his truck. This time he brought his truck. It’s huge! The truck, I mean. He helped me into it cause it is so big and tall and as he gave me a boost up I let him have a quick looksee up my skirt. He got in and we drove all around town looking for a quiet and safe place to park. Finally we found a spot — not ideal, cause there were a lot of people walking around at that hour, but it would do. Time was running out. His truck has tinted windows and we climbed into the back seat and, well, I went down on him like this.”

She proceeded to demonstrate on my cock just what she had done not long ago to Hunter’s cock.

“And?” I asked, made tense by both the actions of her tongue and the words it had left off from forming.

“And he reached over my ass with his lengthy arm and fingered me with his long, big fleshy fingers and I came — a few times — dripping all over his hand and then, as he was fingering me, I felt his cock swell up and bulge in my mouth and I felt his washboard abs get all hard and tight, and then suddenly he exploded in a giant burst in the back of my throat. My mouth was all the way down his entire shaft and he filled me up with his warm jizz.”

“And you?”

“I swallowed it, of course. All of it. And he was impressed.”

She frantically sucked on my pole as she was again on her knees — this time on the carpet of my office rather than the floor mat of a truck.

“And then what?”

“And then it was time to go, so I got up and as I was climbing from the back seat to the front and as I was bent over with my face looking out the clear front window at the world, I lifted my skirt in the back, like this.” She got up and, bending over my desk, she demonstrated. “And he pulled down my little thong and spanked me a bit. I bit my lip and let out a moan — it felt so good — and then, as if he was reading my mind, he fingered me one more time.” As she said this, she reached around and began fingering herself. “He told me how unbelievably tight I am.”

Wasting no time, I slid my protruding cock into her anxious pussy and I fucked her good and hard over my desk — calling her every name in the book. She came and she came and she came and then, just before I was ready to cum, I told her to get on her knees and open her mouth. She dutifully obeyed. I stuck in my cock and gave her Hunter Martini a chaser.

[Excerpt from the story, “Silver Fox, Mynx, and the Hunter — Part VI: Take Two,” from the blog:]

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

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