Tuesday night we both got home late, felt exhausted and, too tired to make dinner, we climbed into bed and she nuzzled up to me. Her naked body felt good next to mine and I was glad to retreat from the world into our small cocoon. Feeling Lo’s breasts on my chest, her bare legs over mine, her smooth puss pressed up against my hip, I was ready to whisper to her about how much I wanted to enjoy our “cuck-oon” lifestyle. But the drag of the day, the stress of the rest of the week, and the mere thought of the holidays and all the family politics involved with that was weighing on Lo’s shoulders. She needed support, not sex.

She spoke to me from the quiet calm of memory. “You know how you’ve said that I really had a miserable childhood?”

“Yes, Lo.”

“I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.”

“Well, I didn’t mean that your whole childhood was miserable.”

“A lot of it was.”

“And those are the parts that you tell me about the most?”

“As I think back on it and see what the kids have today, I realize just how bad it really was.”

“What do the kids have today?” I asked, thinking she meant something material.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No,” I said, still thinking that material things wouldn’t make a difference between a happy and sad childhood.

“They have you,” she said, holding me a little tighter. I felt stupid.

“Oh,” I said.

“Anyhow,” she continued, “I’ve been thinking and I want you to know that as I look back, I see that all along, when I was a child, I had a small flame — a tiny, flickering candle — in me that shines for me as a symbol of my happiness. It was dim and a lot of forces tried to extinguish it then, but it continued to burn.”

“That’s a nice image,” I said.

“But, as I’ve grown older, that flame has grown. The further from my parents, my home, my childhood I’ve gotten, the brighter the light has shown. And with you, I feel like you — unlike all those people who tried to extinguish it — you have fanned the flame to its biggest and brightest light yet. You’re not the only source of my light’s fuel, but you sure make me happy, Daddy. Your light warms me.”

With those words she fell off to sleep and I remained awake, holding her gently, contentedly reflecting upon how happy she makes me.

[From the blog:]

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

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