“Do you think we should invite him out for a drink?” she asked, all innocent (not).
“I don’t see what harm could come of it if we did,” I said, knowing full well what could cum.
No sooner had I given permission than the solicitation was sent. The next week we met Hunter at a crowded new restaurant in our neighborhood. We had to wait upwards of a half-hour at the bar for a table and the din of conversation among the patrons made it difficult for the three of us to converse hardly at all. Lo just hung on Hunter’s arm as if no caesura had happened. Eventually we were seated in the quiet, far more civilized section of the establishment. We had ordered tapas and Lo took the initiative to pick out her choice dishes for Hunter and me.
We spoke about this and that and caught up with one another and all was pleasant and polite. But Lo knew from her sporadic communiqués with Hunter that he had managed to find two other “floozies” (her word, not mine) on the net who would service him without compunction. This made Lo irate in private, but she put on the charm with Hunter, playing it off as if it didn’t faze her one bit.
“How’s what’s her name and the other one?”
“You mean Jen and Karen?”
“Yeah, those two.”
“They’re good. I’m supposed to see Jen next week and I saw Karen last week.”
“Oh, well I hope they were everything you wanted them to be,” she said, unable to contain her illogical jealousy.
Hunter knew enough to say, “Oh, well they weren’t you, if that’s what you mean.”
“Go on,” said Lo vainly.
“I mean, Karen is hot” — mistake! — “and Jen says she’s really into women. In fact, she is eager to meet you and have a threesome. . . or foursome.” (He added the last bit when he realized that he had totally forgotten to factor me in to his plans.)
“Yeah, well,” Lo began, “that would be fun, but, as you know, I’ve sworn off of you. At least until you’re on the up-and-up.”
There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation until Lo asked about Hunter’s guy friend to whom Hunter had confided his discovery of this nymphomaniacal vixen. “So, is he single?” she asked.
“He’s with someone, but it’s kinda complicated,” Hunter explained.
After giving some details, Lo asked, “He’s still reading the blog?”
“So far as I know,” he said.
Lo’s eyes drifted off into her own thoughts for a bit. Hunter’s arm was around her shoulder as the two of them sat side-by-side, opposite me. A group of four was on a double date to our left and a couple was on what looked like a first date to our right. We were the only odd numbered party among the tables.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Just imagining,” said Lo, staring off into the middle-distance.
“A little fantasy of mine.”
“Oh boy,” I said to Hunter, “here we go.”
“What?” asked Lo coquettishly, now looking at us.
“Out with it. Just tell us. Don’t make us have to beg you for it.”
“Well, you know what my biggest sex-fantasy is,” she said to me.
“To be bound by Hunter and me and have us slap your face with our cocks?” I asked under my breath.
“No, not that one.”
“Not that one either.”
“Well, we’re not playing goddamned 20 questions here. What is it? I could go on all night with the fantasies you’ve told me about and not hit the nail on the head.” I realized too late that I had raised my voice. I looked around self-consciously. Lo was unconcerned about eavesdroppers.
“My favorite,” she said as if that word would jog my memory.
“Enlighten us, please.”
“Classic bukkake,” she whispered, looking first at Hunter and then at me. “I would like to assemble a hand-picked group of men — say ten or fifteen — and have them all waiting outside my hotel room. I don’t know, I imagine it’s a conference like Eroticon or something and I send HH with my special business cards to the men (and women) that I’m interested in and he gives them a card with the hotel room number and a time on the back. They show up and HH tells them to line up and wait while I’m inside the room on the bed. HH has set up folding chairs for all of them and then, on my word, he opens the door and lets them in. I’m on the bed in a sexy little number.”
“Like the red nighty?” Hunter interrupted.
“Yeah, like that, only this time, with a red thong under it. They come in and sit down. HH reads off the rules: You may remove your pants. You may jack it. You may not approach the bed. You may not take photos or record the show. You may ask permission of Lola to cum. When granted permission, you may cum.
“The lights are low and I begin my show. I spread my legs and rub my puss. I slowly remove my clothing. I have my toys nearby and I use them on myself. I tease and tempt the men. Eventually, one-by-one, they ask permission to cum. I say to them, one at a time, that they have permission to get up out of their chairs and cum on me. They obey; each one respectfully and dutifully, until I’m covered in their hot mess.”
Lo’s face was flush and I, for my part, was looking to the left and right to see if any of the other patrons were within earshot of Lo’s sexy voice. My eyes darted back and forth, but if they were listening, they didn’t let on.
A waiter refilled our wine glasses and, after drinking in his good looks with her eyes, Lo continued.
“Once they have all cum, I would jill it for them and really turn up the heat to see who among them could get it up again. The lucky ones would be granted permission by HH to approach the bed where I would take them in my mouth and suck them off until they came on my face or in the back of my throat.
“Then they would return once again to their seats and the show would continue. This time I might play with my ass or beg them to fuck me. Whoever could get it up for round three would be invited to the bed and I would grant him the special privilege of having me however he wished.
“That’s my number one sex-fantasy.”
Hunter and I just looked at her, dumbfounded.
“Pardon me,” she said, “while I go powder my nose.”
She got up from her chair and dragged her right hand across Hunter’s broad shoulders as she walked passed, carrying her clutch in her left.
“Is she going to. . . ?” Hunter began to ask.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I answered.
[Excerpt from the the story, “Kiss, Kiss, Gang-Bang,” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]