“Deeper! Deeper! Stay deep! Yes! There! Aw FUCK, I’m cumming! Fuck, I’m cumming in my ass! Yes. Holy shit! Yes. Oh. My. God.”
And that’s how our fight ended.
Perhaps I should tell you how it began. It began when we met up with Hunter for dinner. It had been a while since we saw him last and Lo wanted to catch up. We met near our house and sat outside at a busy little restaurant as the sun was beginning to set. After ordering drinks, Lo, in typical Lo fashion, found the sun was shining too brightly in her eyes. She moved her seat from next to me to next to Hunter where the sun was on her back.
Drinks arrived and within a few moments Lo found that the sun on her back was too hot. She asked Hunter to trade places with her. He graciously obliged. We talked and got caught up a bit when she then said that the sun’s light in her eyes was blocking her view of him and asked if he would move back to where he had been sitting before so she could see him better.
“Jesus!” I exclaimed, “Have you ever heard of Goldilocks!”
“The girl who had a threesome with the bears and then was eaten out by the big bad wolf?”
“You’re mixing up fairytales. She’s the finicky girl who said, ‘This one’s too soft. This one’s too hard.’ You know?”
“It’s never too hard.”
Luckily, Hunter is good natured and amused by our little lovers’ quarrels.
“I read your latest blog post,” he said, “and I was wondering if you ever ran into that construction worker again?”
“Which post?” asked Lo.
“‘Blurred Lines,’” I said, “wherein Lo meets a fella at the supermarket.”
“Oh,” said Lo, “Don’t believe everything you read,” but her blushing gave away the truth of the story.
Our food arrived and Lo pressed Hunter about his relationship problems.
Hunter complained about how the sex spark was gone in his marriage.
“You mean, she doesn’t run home from shopping and hop into bed with a dildo and fuck herself silly until you arrive?” I asked facetiously.
“If only!” he laughed.
“What about the new girl?” I asked.
“She’s in a situation much like mine,” he said and he told us about a married chick he’s been seeing since Lo backed out of the scene. “She’s really into women and she keeps on talking about how she’d like to bring you into the mix.”
“Oh yeah, that’s all I need,” said Lo, “two married lovers in one bed. It’s like playing double Russian Roulette!” She put her fingers to her temples like two guns and pretended to pull the triggers. “POW!”
Hunter told us more about his personal life.
After hearing him out she said, “Have you ever heard of Gary Chapman?”
“No, he wrote a book called The Five Love Languages. Our friends told us about it. His theory is that there are five ‘languages’ that we use to communicate our love to our lovers: acts of service, quality time, touch, words of affirmation, and tangible gifts.”
“Lo,” I interjected, “needs all five all the time. And someone added a sixth language — food! That totally completes Lo’s vocabulary.”
“It’s true,” she said with a smile. “But according to Chapman, we all have two main ‘languages’ that we need. The problem is that people tend give in the ‘language’ that they want to receive and most of us pair up with a partner who doesn’t give in the language that we understand.”
“For instance,” I said, “If I need affirmation and quality time, that’s what I’d give, but Lo wouldn’t understand that as a show of my love if she needed touch and gifts.”
“Quality time?!” Lo laughed, “You’re idea of ‘quality time’ is being by yourself!”
“Your idea of the language of touch is touching yourself!” I shot back.
“That is not true, I love to be touched by lots of people, but most of all, myself.”
I rolled my eyes and Hunter just laughed.
“Anyhow,” said Lo, “at first it sounds like a stupid theory, but the more you think about it, the more it makes sense. It’s actually a fun party game — you have different people try to guess your languages and you guess theirs. It can make for some big fights, but it also allows you the chance to step back and ask yourself, ‘Is she understanding my language? Am I speaking her language?’ You know?”
“Yeah, I get it,” he said.
We continued to talk about relationships and so forth until the check came. When we got up to leave it was unclear where we were going or what was next. As we stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, I blurted out, “You’re more than welcome for a drink at our place.”
Lo elbowed me in the side and said to Hunter, “That’s his way of trying to get me to play with you.”
“What?!” I said.
“I know what you’re up to,” she said to me.
“That’s ok, I’ve gotta get going home anyhow,” said Hunter.
We parted ways and I didn’t talk to Lo the entire walk home.
“What is the matter?” she demanded.
“Any time you’re ready to apologize, I’m ready to listen.”
“Apologize? For what?”
“For insinuating that I was pushing you to sleep with him.”
“That’s what you were doing, isn’t it?”
“NO! Not at all. I was just being polite and I didn’t know what you wanted so I was giving you the opportunity to speak up.”
“‘Opportunity to speak up?’” she mocked, “That’s a good one.”
She walked out of the room without apologizing and so I did the only thing I could to really piss her off — the ‘language of anger’ you might say — I turned on “Weeds.”
A moment later she walked in and stomped her foot and demanded, “You shut off that skinny little skank this instant!”
“I’m watching it.”
“No you’re not!”
“If you want me to shut it off, then apologize.”
“Then I’m watching it.”
“If you want a sexy brunette with big brown eyes and a hungry puss, you got it right here,” she said, sitting on the couch and stroking between her legs.
“You’re getting nothing until you apologize for what you said.”
“Daddy,” she said in a much softer tone, “You know I only want you. I’m sorry.”
I shut off the TV.
“It was your idea to have dinner with him,” I said, not yet fully over the rift.
“That doesn’t mean that I want to fuck him. I already told him that I have moral qualms about it.”
“Yeah, but you adopt and reject your ‘moral qualms’ as often as you changed seats tonight at the bar. I don’t know where you stand one moment to the next.”
“Stand?” she said jokingly as she leaned back and rubbed her puss, “I prefer my moral qualms in a horizontal position.”
I rolled my eyes, “You’re incorrigible! Incorrigible!”
“I’m not going to take that lying down,” she said, still in a kidding manner as she got up off the couch and bent over to reveal her ass to me. She looked at me, upside down, from between her legs and said, “You want this, Daddy?”
That was enough to cause a break in the storm clouds about me and a small smile of sunshine lit from my face.
“That’s it, Daddy,” she said, now between my legs and caressing me as she looked up at me in a loving way.
I was just about to take her into the bedroom and have some great make-up sex with her when her phone rang. She looked at it and said, “Hold that thought, I’ve got to take this.” In Lo’s line of work she gets calls at all hours. This time it was her boss trying to arrange a flight. “Pass me your comp,” she said, “mine’s in the car.”
I gave her my computer and she talked and searched and so forth, but at one point she looked at me and it was as if laser beams were shooting from her eyes. After she got off the phone she continued using my computer.
“What?” I said, innocently.
“What? Why are you upset?”
“You erased your history.”
I told you, Lo and I have a little game we play of checking each other’s web-surfing histories.
“Why?” she demanded.
“Just getting you back,” I said.
“For erasing your history on your phone.”
She knew she had.
“That’s ok, I have other methods,” she said. Uh-oh. It’s not that I had anything to hide, per se, but. . .
“What is this?” She turned the screen around and showed me a page full of women in various naked poses.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know.”
A few seconds later she said, “What is this?!”
Another Tumblr full of pictures.
“Why the hell were you searching for ‘Just Another 20 Something Sex Kitten’?”
“I wasn’t searching for that!”
And so it went for an excruciatingly long interrogation session to which I pled the 5th for every question.
Lo eventually slammed the computer shut and stormed off to the bedroom.
I was too tired for this. Whenever Lo is cross with me (which is frequently), I suddenly feel emotionally and physically drained.
I laboriously picked myself up off the couch and entered the bedroom where Lo was lying naked on the bed above the covers touching herself.
“What are you doing?” I inquired.
I got into bed next to her. “You’ve told me before that whenever you’re mad at me, whenever you yell at me, whenever you stomp away, what you are really saying is ‘hold me, have me, love me’ — that it’s a plea for attention.”
“Do you want that now?”
“I want you to explain to me why you’re looking at all those other women!”
“I wasn’t. I swear.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. Every morning, noon, and night you’re reading sex blogs or you’re ogling sex Tumblrs or you’re searching for sexy women. Don’t think I don’t know. You’re the nymphomaniac in this outfit, buddy, not me,” she said as her fingers continued to pull and stretch her labia unconsciously.
“Lo,” I said in a pleading manner, but she wouldn’t let me continue.
“Aren’t I enough for you? What are you looking for? What is it you need?”
“Yes, Lo, you’re more than enough for me.”
“‘More than enough,’” she said in a mocking manner, “Again with that? You’re going to tell me how you can’t handle me? How you’re only good to cum once a day. How I’m always after you for sex sex sex sex sex? Don’t you realize by now, I love you? I only want you? All I want is for you to hold me, to caress me, to kiss me — just like Hunter was talking about tonight. That’s it. That’s all I want from you. I don’t need sex, just affection, attention, and love.”
As she said this she placed my right hand on her puss and began guiding it with her own hand — instructing it to rub her labia in just the manner that she had been doing herself.
“Lo,” I said as nicely as I could, “every time we kiss or every time I show you affection, attention, and love; every time I caress you or hold you or hug you, it turns into sex. You must see that.”
“I don’t need the sex. I need the love.”
She was now pressing my fingers down so that they would enter her puss. Her hips were rising to meet the curl of my index and middle finger. She was dripping all over them. I pulled them out.
“You see?” I said, directing her attention to the unconscious acts of her body.
“Please,” she begged, “just hold me.”
I held her and I whispered into her ear that I loved her.
“Have me,” she whispered back.
I was limp as an empty sock. “Lo,” I said, “I came only a couple of hours ago.” It was true. In anticipation of meeting Hunter, she devoured me before we left the house.
“What are you? An old man? A musket? A one trick pony?” She had resorted to humiliation.
“Lo, I’m just not up for it. Can’t I just hold you like you asked?”
“No, I want a kiss,” she said.
I leaned in to kiss her. Our lips met. Our tongues met. I held her tightly in my arms. Her arms came up and unexpectedly she was pushing me — pushing me down.
“I want a kiss there,” she said, directing my face between her legs.
I took her stretched labia in my mouth and sucked on them.
“No,” she said, “gently,” as she squirmed in my mouth.
I kissed her the faintest of kisses.
I landed feather soft kisses all over her inner thighs, her lips, her clit.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
I softly licked with my tongue. She didn’t object. I continued in upward motions. She liked. Her hands pressed my head down a little harder. My tongue covered more area. I opened my mouth wide. I took her entire puss in my mouth. My tongue increased its speed licking up and down her lips. I focused on her clit and within moments she was squirming and squealing under me.
“I’m cumming!” she screamed again and again as her puss released its sweetness all over my mouth.
“Whoa!” she said, trying to pull me off, “Stop.” I didn’t stop.
“Stop,” she said, “I’m too sensitive.”
I grabbed her arms by the wrists and held them down to the bed firmly. My mouth continued to work its motions frantically.
“Stop!” she screamed as she twisted and struggled with me, clenching her knees together on my body to try to stop me. I wasn’t going to stop. I was going to make her suffer for her insatiable demands. Forced orgasms were in order. I continued unabated until she was screaming at the top of her lungs in pain and pleasure. I was relentless. She came and came hard. Her entire body clenched up tightly, wrapping her legs around my head before she released in utter exhaustion.
“Hard stop.” She whispered. (Our safe word.) I stopped.
She lay motionless before saying, “Daddy, I’m so wet. I squirted all over the bed!”
“And my face,” I added.
“But I need your cock. Fuck me.”
“No, you said you just wanted to cuddle and kiss.” Revenge is so sweet.
“Oh, you’re going to fuck me,” she said. Her hands fumbled around in her nightstand drawer. She pulled out a tube of KY jelly and dabbed a dollop in her hand. She reached down and grabbed my flaccid cock, pulling it and tugging on it, greasing it up. Then she sat up and took it to her chest and pressed her breasts together, sliding it up and down through her cleavage. “This is what I did to Hunter,” she said.
“You liked it?”
“Oh yeah, but he was longer and harder.”
“You’re a dirty slut.”
“Oh, are you getting hard, Daddy?”
“You’re a cum-hungry whore.”
“I know, Daddy. Will you fuck me now?”
“First, admit you’re the nympho.”
“I am, I am.”
I was hard as a rock.
“You want me?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll do anything.”
I leaned back. Her feet found their way to my well lubricated rod. She caressed and held it with them.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“I want your ass.”
“You want to cum in me?”
“Do you think you can?”
“Let’s find out.”
“Cause I want you to. I want you to make me your cream pie.”
She turned on her tum and reached around and grabbed my slippery cock to guide it in gently.
“I’ll go slow.”
I was in in no rush. It felt so good and tight.
“Do you like, Daddy?”
“Oh yes,” I said.
“You can go deeper.”
I pushed deeper.
“You can go harder.”
I pushed harder.
“You can go faster.”
I thrust with an accelerating tempo.
As I was going I leaned down, reached around so that my hands were grasping her breasts and my chest was touching her back and I whispered in her ear, “Do you want to know the truth?”
“Yes,” she exhaled — her body getting physically exhausted from the workout.
“The truth is that I didn’t search for those women. The truth is. . .” I gave her a few more long and hard thrusts, “that they were saved into my favorites. That’s why they came up whenever you typed a letter in the browser. The truth is that I look for Tumblrs and blogs like ours and then I submit your pictures to them. The truth is that I’m not interested in their pics. I love you. I think you are beautiful. I’m obsessed — it’s true — with you. You drive me mad. You make me crazy. I am crazy about you. It’s you, baby, it’s you. I love your ass, your tits, your puss, your face, your lips, your hair, your legs, your feet, your toes. I love you. It’s all for you.”
That’s when she started screaming, “Deeper! Deeper! Stay deep! Yes! There! Aw FUCK, I’m cumming! Fuck, I’m cumming in my ass! Yes. Holy shit! Yes. Oh. My. God.” And that’s when I came deep in her ass with the force of a fucking rocket. And that’s how our fight ended.
[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]