Image for post
Image for post

The next morning I was up with the sun, as usual. I brewed up a pot of coffee and did what I do every morning — a little reading, a little writing. As I was sitting on the couch sipping my joe, Brianna suddenly appeared and took the chair across from me. She was wearing Lo’s pajama bottoms and a man-beater tee. I had only met Brianna once or twice before when out with a large crowd. When I got a look at her and realized who this Brianna person is, I was a little taken aback that Lo would befriend her since she embodies the classic “stick-skinny-blond” type that Lo despises, mainly because she erroneously thinks that I long for such a woman of classic Abercrombie & Fitch looks.

“Morning,” I said.

“Morning,” she replied, a little awkwardly, “I’m Brianna.”

“I’m HH. Coffee?”

I got her a cup and we talked a little about this and that.

Not too much later Lo appeared wearing nothing but her pink, oversized t-shirt and panties. She crawled on the couch next to me and wrapped herself in a blanket.

We were all talking — about school, acquaintances, the weather — and then somehow (I swear, she’s like a magician) the conversation was steered by Lo to the topic of Brianna’s romantic life. I could hear in Lo’s voice how she switched into therapist mode, completely unintentionally.

Brianna, more than glad to unburden herself to someone, related the sorry tale of her string of failed relationships. Lo, as is her way, dug deeper than the surface. So deep, in fact, that at one point Brianna looked at me and said, “This is a little embarrassing.”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” said Lo, “he’s really a woman. . . on the inside.”

Brianna continued as if I wasn’t in the room or as if I was just one of the girls. “So, the fact is, I never orgasmed with another person.”

Without blinking a lovely eyelash, though I know her heart sunk for this girl on the inside, Lo said, “But you’re able to orgasm?”

Again, Brianna glanced at me before saying, “Yeah, alone.”

“OK,” said Lo, realizing she had something to work with. “So you can orgasm.”

“Yeah, but never with the person I’m with. Always after.”

“I get it. It’s clearly not you,” Lo reassured her. “But,” she went on with her interrogation, “you’ve never been able to cum with someone else — not by digital manipulation or cunnilingus?”


“But in your alone time, there’s no problem.”

Brianna nodded.

“So, what works for you when you’re alone?”

I couldn’t help but take a moment to reflect that here we were, around 10 o’clock in the morning, haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, and Lo was asking this person — almost a total stranger to me — how she gets herself off. Only Lo!

Brianna squirmed a little in her seat, though clearly perking up to hear that the “problem” was not her fault, and at the very least, not a permanent one.

“I mean,” said Lo, “do you need a dildo, vibrators, other toys, a showerhead, just your fingers?”

“Oh, I never have used toys.”

“So. . .?”

“My fingers, usually.” Brianna replied, eyeing me in her periphery.

“Oh, really, Brianna, there’s nothing he hasn’t heard or seen or done.”

“I live with Lo,” I said, trying to reassure her, “and this is nothing new to me.”

“What works for you?” asked Brianna, wide-eyed.

“Lo is, what she likes to call, ‘pan-orgasmic,’” I said, putting in my two cents.

Lo smiled and laughed a bit as she said, “Yeah, I can start and finish pretty easily. It doesn’t take much: a nibble of the earlobe can do it for me! I’ve even been inconvenienced while getting a pedicure — it’s so embarrassing.”


“Oh yeah. It’s horrible. HH, knows. I return from the salon and have to change my panties at home, every time!”

“There’s a reason she has an aura of sex,” I said, making reference to our pillow talk of earlier that morning.

“But most of all,” continued Lo, “I like being alone in the tub with the showerhead between my legs.” After realizing just how far Brianna was now leaning in, Lo added, “because, you know, it makes me feel like I have a big cock in my hand. Sometimes I imagine I have a woman on her knees sucking me, playing with herself and begging me to cum all over her face.”

Even I was taken aback by this comment. I don’t know if Lo was being clever by revealing some very intimate details in order to put Brianna more at ease, or if Lo’s mind just naturally wandered and her mouth reported on the vignette of her imaginings unbidden, but this was a startling statement.

“Anyhow,” said Lo, coming back to the thrust of the conversation, “my point is that it might be helpful to blend solo-time with partner-time. Do you feel comfortable doing that with your partners?”

“No, not really.”

“Have you ever tried it?”


“There was a time when I was ashamed to do it too,” Lo answered sensitively (though this seemed like a contrived statement to me). “But eventually I decided that I know better than anyone what I like and I’m going to do it. I do it all the time now.” Lo looked at me.

“There’s nothing wrong with it and a lot of guys get off on it,” I said, feeling like some sort of affirmation was being requested of me.

“Do you mind if I ask — have you only been with men?” Lo asked.

“Yeah,” said Brianna.

“Well, you might want to try a woman. So many men can be so selfish in bed. And a woman is going to know better what might work for you.”

At this point I wasn’t sure if Lo was coming onto Brianna, and I think Brianna was as confused as I. Just in case, I decided to give the two of them some alone time and I excused myself to make breakfast.

It so turned out that morning that the two of them were famished and we all enjoyed waffles, strawberries and mimosas together before Brianna left with plenty to think about.

After she was gone, I asked Lo, “Were you actually trying to get her into bed?”

“What?” asked Lo incredulously.

“With all that talk about cumming on a woman’s face and recommending she try sleeping with a woman, it really seemed like you were suggesting something.”

“Oh my God! Did it?”

I just nodded my head.

“I totally wasn’t trying to. I was just trying to help.”

“Well, my dear, there’s your answer as to why all of your friends are infatuated with you. You’re a total Mac Daddy!”

[Excerpt from the story, “There’s a Time and a Time and Then There’s Solo-Time,” from the blog:]

Written by

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

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store