The other day I was driving in my car and on the radio was playing Sugar Ray’s, “Every Morning.” As I listened to this old familiar song that I had heard countless times before, it dawned on me for the first time, “Every morning there’s a halo hanging from the corner of my girlfriend’s four-post bed.” The halo — it’s hers. It’s hanging there cause she takes it off at night. She’s a little devil in the sack. She puts it on again in the morning and goes out to work, like an angel. My obtuse little mind had cracked the simple imagery of this pop tune and. . . AND, I realized it’s about my Lo. That describes her to a tee. She wakes up, masturbates, showers, masturbates, gets dressed, puts on her halo, saunters off to work, frequently masturbates at work when no one is watching, comes home, cums at home, cums and cums again. Sleep, repeat. And no one is any the wiser. At night she might go down on a stranger in the car. Other nights she may bed a lovely woman. And just about every day she poses for lascivious photos that she posts on the internet. Yet, by day, no one — except those other freaks with an eye for freak-flags — sees her freaky-deeky-crazy-nympho-slut-whore ways.
Take, for instance, the fact that she is, by profession, an advocate for safe, healthy, consensual sex. Yet, at night, when she comes home from work, she’ll get down on all fours, ask me to put a leash around her neck, lead her by it through the house to the bedroom, have her sit on her knees and beg for my bone, before taking it in her mouth and being pet on the head and told she’s a “good girl.” She then hops up on the bed and pleads to be taken. I tell her, “You know, it’s wrong for us to do this,” indulging her fetish for role-playing as I slowly slide my rod in her and she whispers, “I love you, Daddy.” I service her that way for a while, until she cums a couple of times, and then I pull out, and slowly, gently, carefully insert my sex drive made flesh in her other orifice, per her request, until she demands that I ram it home. All the while she cries out her pet name for me — “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy” — with each painful thrust. She tells me to make her a dirty girl and says she wants my shaft back in her hungry and vacuous cunt. I oblige and, as if in lust for two cocks at once, she has me shift back and forth and back and forth, front to back and back to front again, before begging me to cum in her mouth and licking me clean, as I heap upon her the worst, most depraved names I can possibly invent.
And then, when we’re done with our little charade, I lie on my back, put my arm around her shoulders, pull her close and tight to me, kiss her forehead ever-so-gently and say, “Goodnight, Lo. I love you.”
Already drifting off to dreamland, she murmurs back almost inaudibly, “I love you too.”
My little nymph-devil.
[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]