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We get into a fight. She complains that we haven’t been doing enough together. It’s morning, about a half hour before she has to leave for work. She keeps on touching my crotch and looking at it longingly. We’ve grown apart. I retreat into myself. Conflict avoidant.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel numb.”

“Is your heart cold?”

“My heart is numb.”

“Is it like a piece of black coal? Because, if it is, I bet I could warm it up and get it to catch fire,” she says, rubbing my chest.

“No, it’s like a diamond — that is, a piece of black coal, buried deep beneath the earth for thousands upon thousands of years, crushed by the weight of the world until it crystalizes into an incredibly hard, but beautiful gem.”

“That’s not the only thing that is hard and beautiful,” she says, looking at my crotch where her hand is rubbing my cock.

“You just want to get laid! You don’t care about all the things that were said or how I feel or anything.”

“Look, I didn’t want to get laid, but then all this came up,” she says as she pulls my hard cock out of my pajama bottoms. “No pun intended.”

“Yeah right.”

“Now, it’s too late. I have to get to work.”

“You still want to get laid, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. But it’s too late. I have to go. If I don’t leave in the next five minutes, I’ll be late for sure.”

“It only takes you one minute to get off. What will you do with the extra four minutes?”

“I still have to get dressed.”

“Well, that means you have to get undressed first. Get undressed and I’ll fuck you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be late.”

“Every second you spend talking we could be fucking.”

“Really? You’ll fuck me? Hard and fast?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Before I could even say those words, she was out of her little red panties, her skirt up over her hips, spreading her legs, slapping her pussy and pulling at her nipples through her white blouse, her tits carelessly pulled out and over her bra. She was already very wet, so I slid right in as she almost pushed my hips with her feet from behind me.

She began to moan instantly. “You like this. You like using me basically to masturbate.”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“When was the last time you jilled it?”

“So long ago.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

“When last night? When I was asleep?”

“No, before that.”

“When? We had company last night.”

“Right.”

“What?”

“When they were here. After you brought everyone into the living room and were serving drinks. When I said I was going to get dessert ready.”

“You jilled it then?!”

“It was a very quick, but sweet dessert.”

“You’re incorrigible! You’re worse than a pubescent boy!”

“Shhhhh, no talking. I’m cumming.”

We hadn’t even been going at it for a minute.

She pulled my body as close to hers as she could. She tightened her hips around me. She gushed. She held me in place. “Just wiggle it a bit up and down,” she said as she fingered herself.

“You’re cumming again.”

“Yes.”

This time was more quiet than the first.

“That’s my spot,” she whispered.

“I know.”

Her eyes were squeezed shut.

“What or who are you thinking about?”

“Shhhhh. No talk.”

When she was done and she released me, she got up from the bed and put on her red undies. “I’m so wet. This is not going to be — ugh!” She slid on her pants over the wetness of her inner thigh.

“So? What were you imagining as you came the second time?”

“You,” she said as she readjusted her bra.

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really. You.”

“What about me?”

“I was thinking about you watching me get fucked by a special masseur — one who gave me an all-over body massage.”

“Is that what you want for Christmas?”

She was slipping on her heels. “You know, it’s just like the song says, ‘All I want for Christmas is you.’”

“Funny, I don’t recall the chorus saying, ‘All I want for Christmas is you and a masseur.’ But that must be how it goes.”

“That’s not how it goes, but a woman can drop a hint, can’t she?”

“Have a great day at work, darling,” I said as she came up to me to kiss me goodbye.

[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]

Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail: downloladown@gmail.com

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