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[The Mount Bliss vacation series continues.]

Though her brief email Tuesday morning gave me some indication as to what was going on in vacationland, it left me with so many more questions: What were Lo and Lily wearing to bed? Just how many times did Lo masturbate? What was Lily’s reaction? Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for my answers. Lo knows me well. As soon as she sent the email, she also texted me to alert me to its dispatch and she said, “Tell me when you’re done reading it.”

I texted her back and she immediately called me with her very sexy, sultry voice.

“Hi Daddy.”

I was at work. I couldn’t respond in kind.

“Tell me, how is your vacation?” I asked in a quasi-formal tone.

“Mmmmmmm,” was all I heard from the other end of the line. Her answer left a lot to the imagination.

“Lo, I can’t really talk right now, so. . .”

“We’re going out today, Daddy,” she said, interrupting me. “I’ll call you later, ok?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Do you miss me?”

“Very much.”

“Do you want me to come?”


“Do you want me to come?”

Was she masturbating on the phone? I had no idea. It wouldn’t be unheard of. But then she added, “home.” “Do you want me to come home?” she asked.

“I miss you, Lo. But have a good time. Call me tonight?”

“I miss you too. Gotta run,” she said hastily. “Kisses!” Then she hung up.

I didn’t hear back from her that night. It wasn’t until Wednesday morning that I got word from her and that meant I slept almost not at all Tuesday night.

Wednesday morning she sent me a photo that appeared to be her giving an incredibly tiny cock a hand-job, but it was hard to tell exactly.

The text that accompanied the picture simply said, “Getting a lot of practice for you, Daddy. Do you miss me?” I received those at about 7:45 Wednesday morning, before I went to work. I asked her to call me, but she didn’t respond. After another poor night of sleep for me, this was just too much to bear.

When she called later Wednesday, she caught me at work yet again. I sat at my desk and heard her phone-sex voice as I tried to remain poker-faced. I felt like a wax statue exposed to a hot fire. She melted me inside, but I remained stoic externally.

She gave me the details of Tuesday’s excursion. After a small breakfast at home, Collin had announced that he had very special dinner plans for Lily and Lola. It was too cloudy and cool for the boat on the lake and so, he suggested a different outing. Suzanne wasn’t going to join. Collin said the girls should wear clothes they could get dirty in. Lo’s curiosity was piqued. Lo wore her denim skirt and a white, semi-transparent tank top. No panties, no bra.

Soon the girls were in the Jeep with Collin riding across the terrain again, which frightened Lo half to death, but also exhilarated her. Collin brazenly had his hand on Lo’s knee the entire ride.

They arrived at a farm, about a half hour from the cottage. Collin explained to Lo and Lily that dinner was literally going to be a farm-to-table experience, but that he had arranged for the girls to work on the farm first to “earn your keep.” The girls were game. “You know how I love the country life,” said Lo over the phone.

Their chores included picking the fruit: peaches, apples, nectarines. That required Lo to climb up the ladders while Colin held them in place, giving him the perfect view up her skirt.

Then they had to move the bales of hay. This was very difficult for them, but Collin came in with a tractor and they were able to stack the hay properly.

Collin then let the girls take turns driving the tractor around the perimeter of the property before the girls were really put to work in the barn. They had to milk the goats. (So that’s what that picture was!) Lo told me how good she was at it due to her wide experience using her hands with the same movement.

“Mr. H.,” said Ms. Gale, my secretary, barging into my office.

“What?” I almost barked at her.

“There is a client here to see you.”

“With an appointment?”


“Tell whomever it is, I’m busy.”

“But. . .”

“Busy! And please close the door behind you Ms. Gale.”

She exited.

“If you’re busy Daddy. . .” began Lo.

“No, I want to hear the rest of your story,” I said, sounding almost desperate.

She went on to tell me that after milking the goats, they had to churn the milk into butter. She bragged again about how expert she was at that and insinuated that she also had a lot of practice.

Finally, after doing their chores on the farm, Collin took the girls for a horseback ride, bareback, to a park where they had a little snack of fresh baked bread, the butter they had made, some cheese, and the fruit they had picked. Lo informed me that she sat in such a way to allow Collin more views of her pink, ripe delights.

Lo asked me, “Do you prefer peach or nectarine, Daddy?”

“Are you referring to fruit, Lo?” I asked, perplexed.

“What do you think?” she teased.

“Well,” I said, “when you left, you were peach.”

“Let’s just say I’m nectarine now. And very juicy.”

I could hardly handle it. She knows how to entice me. “Show me,” I said.

She said I should wait a minute, hung up, and then texted me a pic. It was not exactly what I had expected: a photo of a peach next to a nectarine.

“Very funny,” I typed back.

Then she followed it with a photo of her shaved pussy peeking out of her short denim skirt.

“What happened next?” I asked, impatient to hear her whole story and a bit scared she’d scamper off again to do who-knows-what before getting to the end of her day.

After lunch, Lo told me, they went to town and browsed through the little knick-knack stores, antique stores, art galleries, and bookshops. Lo said she found one book that she showed to Collin to get his attention. It was an anthology of erotica. She asked Collin if he or his wife enjoy naughty reads.

But before telling me his answer, she simply told me that he was more than happy to buy the book for her and she sent me a little photo to prove it.

After their excursion to town, they returned to the farm/restaurant for dinner, but, just as she was launching into her “I’ve got a sexy story to tell you” voice, Ms. Gale again interrupted.

“Mr. H., that client is still here. Will you see him?”

Infuriated, I made my apologies to Lo and hung up, more frustrated than Coleridge when the visitor from Porlock arrived.

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

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