Image for post
Image for post

The party is in full swing. Music blasting, people dancing, drinks being poured and drunk and spilled. The hosts bring out four or five steaming boxes of pizza and put them down on a long table against the wall. Luckily, I’m standing right next to where they place the pizza. I can smell the right-out-of-the-oven crust, the delicious tomato sauce, the melted mozzarella. How fortuitous that they brought it out, because I am starving. The hosts open up the first box and offer me a slice. This is good pizza — NY style — brown and black around the circumference, a perfect ratio of sauce to cheese. I inhale the mouth-watering aroma before taking my first satisfying bite. Delicious!

“Come. I’m naked,” I hear being whispered in my ear.

Chewing, I mumble, “What?”

“Come,” says Lo. “Have me.”

I look to my left and there is Lo lying on the long, black leather couch in the living room, naked, spreading her legs, beckoning to me.

“Have me. I’m so wet Daddy. I’m so horny.”

I feel her grab my cock.

“Can I at least finish my pizza?” I ask.

“What?!” I hear her say in a shocked tone.

“My pizza. It’s so good.”

“Daddio,” she says, pulling on my arm.

I open my eyes. I see bright white light. Is this heaven? Pizza and naked Lo, music and beer? Have I died and gone to the Isle of the Blessed?

No. It was just a dream. I was dreaming of the party and the pizza. Lo, naked in bed, was real.

“Daddio,” she says, “wake up and have me.”

“I was having a dream that I was at a party and they were serving delicious delicious pizza.”

“Have me.”

“No,” I say, turning away and pulling the covers over my head, “I’m staying at the party.”

I hear her chuckle. “Come on, Daddio. Nothing’s better than sex on a Sunday morning.”

“You don’t understand. This is the most delicious pizza. Imaginary pizza has zero calories, it’s not filling, and it’s made just the way I like it. Plus there’s beer! I’m staying at the party.”

“Fine,” she says, rolling away from me onto her back. “If you can have imaginary pizza, I can have imaginary sex with a delicious delicious cock!”

No matter how I try to reenter the party, I can’t seem to find my way back there. I feel the bed moving, hear Lo’s breathing. I pop my head out of the covers and look over at Lo. She has her glass dildo, “Glindo,” between her legs and her eyes closed. It hasn’t been long, but she’s already calling out to God with profanities.

I reach down between her legs and relieve her hand of its work. I flip her over so she’s now on all fours and I slip and slide the dildo in and out of her wet pussy with ease. She cums again in seconds screaming, “Yes, that’s my spot! That’s it! Hold it!” After a moment she adds, “Pull it out. Pull it out now! PULL OUT!!!”

I pull Glindo out and she squirts all over my hand and wrist. She has a violent orgasm. Her ass twitches involuntarily. I hold her with both hands around the waist so that she doesn’t fall down flat on the bed. She stays on all fours, writhing. When she finally releases, I mount her with my erect cock. It feels as hard as the glass one I just pulled out of her.

“Oh, Daddio,” she whispers, “you’re the best toy!”

I go at her for almost a half hour. This third orgasm is not going to be easy to coax out of her now that she has had two in rapid succession.

She turns her head and commands over her shoulder, “Don’t you cum. Don’t you fucking cum. I got a third one in me and your cock is going to get it out.”

“Magic wand pulling a rabbit out of a hat,” I say.

She laughs despite her serious effort to get the hat trick.

Finally, we work up enough friction for her to cum and cum so hard that I get squeezed right out of her. No matter to her, she is purring and trembling like a lawnmower engine once the rip cord has been pulled. Eventually the tremors subside and she falls down. After catching her breath, she takes stock, “But Daddio, you didn’t cum.”

“No,” I whisper as I kiss her tum, her shoulders, her neck, “but that’s ok.” I ponder for a moment as I look at her lovely body and then I exclaim, “Boy do I love making you cum. It’s a good thing you love it too!”

“Yes, I do love making me cum,” she replies with a smirk. “Was it better than pizza?”

“Let me taste you and I’ll tell you.”

“Later, Daddio,” she says, “I have to get ready for the gym now.”

“The gym?! Wasn’t this enough of a workout? I’m sweating.”

My protests are of no consequence. She’s already off the bed and putting on her yoga tights and tank top.

“Come with me,” she says.

“I would have, but you told me not to.”


“You said, and I quote, ‘Don’t you fucking cum.’”

“I mean, come with me to the gym.”

“That’s ok. Another time.”

“Daddio, I don’t want you to grow old and die.”

“Why? Necromancy not your kink?”

“Ewwww! You’re gross.”

She bends over to pick up the clothes off the floor. Her ass looks great in those yoga pants.

“Fine, I’ll go with you,” I say, still horny for her.


“Yes, really.”

“Will you do cardio with me?”

“Cardio? What’s that?”

“It’s exercise that gets your heart rate up.”

“What are you trying to do, kill me? Don’t you know the ole ticker only has so many beats and if you waste them, that’s so many shaved off your life?”

“Where’d you hear that?”

“Health class.”

“Health class? Like in high school?”

“Yeah, why?”

She bursts out laughing and says, “Oh, did they tell you that while throwing around the old medicine ball?”

“No. They told us that just after the unit on masturbation,” I say.


“Yeah, it was a sex ed and health class.”

“And what did they teach you about masturbation?”

“That if we did it too much hair would grow on our palms and our penises would become bent like bananas.”

She laughs and opens up my palm. “Damn, no hair. What did they teach you about female masturbation?”

“They didn’t.”

“They didn’t? Why not?”

“I just assumed because it didn’t exist.”

“Well, now you know better.”

“Boy do it!”

“So, if they were wrong about that, then they could also be wrong about the cardio.”

“Look, I’ll go with you, but no cardio. I’ll stick to my medicine ball.”

“I could use some medicine from your balls myself,” she says, as she grabs me between the legs.

“I just gave you your daily dose.”

“I’m not even close to being done, ole man. I’m going to get my medicine.”

We get to the gym and she goes up to the treadmills and I go to the weight room. I’m down there for about a half hour before I get bored. (OK, I’ll admit, I was bored at fifteen minutes, but I stuck it out for another fifteen just for good measure.)

I walk over to the treadmills and I see Lo’s sweet caboose moving at a quick pace on one of them. I notice that she has on the TV in front of her and she’s watching a show about ancient Mayan ruins. I’m interested. I step up onto the vacant treadmill next to hers and I press the button to turn on the TV monitor. But I hit the wrong button. Suddenly the ground under my feet is moving. Panicked, I press another button. The ground moves faster. I hit other buttons as my legs automatically do something that keeps me bouncing up and down. Finally the TV comes on, but it’s on the wrong channel. I try to change the channel and now I can’t keep up with the track as it speeds under my feet. Despite my efforts, I get thrown behind the treadmill like some reject from the assembly line.

I land on my ass and everyone is looking at me. Lo pretends like she hasn’t noticed a thing. There is no way she is going to publically acknowledge that she knows me now.

I pick my sorry self up from the floor and try to slink out of the treadmill area and down to the showers, but now a weird thing is happening. Am I drunk? It feels like my legs are rubber-bands bouncing up and down under me. That damn treadmill has my body hallucinating. Psychodelica for the physiology. It takes few minutes until I feel back to normal. I take a quick shower and wait for Lo in the lobby.

After another hour of waiting for Lo, watching the people go by, she finally arrives and we leave the gym together.

“What took you so long?” I ask when we’re in the car.

“I was running.”

“For two hours?”

“No, I ran six miles in an hour — a ten minute mile.”

“Is that good?”

“Never mind.”

“So what was the other hour?”

“I did some stretching and pushups.”

“For another hour?”

“No. I then took a shower.”

“How long was that?”




“You didn’t.”


“In the gym shower?”

“I’m sorry! When I was stretching, there happened to be a hot guy doing pushups next to me.”

“He happened to be there. Not, you found your way over to him?”

“No, of course not. He just was there, looking sweet — and you know how I crave sweets when working out.”


“And then he asked me to hold his feet while he did sit-ups.”

“He didn’t.”

“He did! And he had a sweet cock.”

“So you had to jill it in the shower?”

“Are you mad? Am I in trouble?”

“No. I’m hungry.”

“Oh. What’s for breakfast?”

“I was going to make eggs.”

When we are back at home I ask her, “Do you want your egg over easy or hard?”

“I want it hard, Daddio. You like it easy, remember?”

“Wait, are we still talking about your egg?”

“My egg and other things.”

“Good grief.”

“You have to admit, my breakfast sex humor is second to none.”

“Darling, I don’t think that ‘breakfast sex humor’ is a thing.”

“Well, I’m going to make it a thing.”

As I reach for the frying pan, she grabs me by the wrist and leads me to the bedroom.

“Lo, I told you I’m hungry.”

“So am I.”

“But my hunger is for actual food. Remember, that pizza didn’t fill me up.”

“I want you to fill me up, Daddio.” We get in the bedroom and she says to me, “There’s a small window of opportunity when you are awake and amorous,” as she strips down, showing that she had on no undies under her yoga pants.

“I want to fuck you,” I say at the sight.

“Oh, the window’s open.”

I laugh.

She asks, “You think that’s funny?”


“What’s funny about it?”

“That your window’s open. Wide open,” I say as I reach between her legs.

“I wasn’t talking about me,” she replies, pushing my hand further up and in and caressing it as I caress her.

“Oh, you meant my window of love?” I ask, naively.

“Yeah,” she says between deep sighs, “I’m not a window. I’m a male slot.”

“Well then, get on all fours and I’m going to give you a special delivery to your back door.”

Wasting no time and, reaching behind her, she directs my instrument to just the right spot.

“Slowly, Daddio. Ease it in.”

I follow her instructions; care and love pulling back on the reigns of the dark horse of desire.

“There. That’s it,” she says once I’ve securely submerged to the full depths of the deep end.

Locked in place, she and I held still for a moment and then slowly, she begins pushing back and pulling forward in circular movements of her hips. Gradually the circular movements pick up speed and intensity until she is rhythmically bouncing off of my pelvis.

“Yes, I’m going to cum!” she calls out. “Harder. Deeper.”

Now she’s bucking wildly against me. All care and restraint are tossed to the wayside as my hands wrap around her waist, pulling her in, holding her in place for maximum penetration.

“Cum. I want you to cum. Do you hear me? Cum in me. Make me your cream pie,” she commands as she picks up one hand to rub her clit.

When I hear her rapid succession of profanities, that’s my cue that it’s my turn. I lean in with full force and feel the large spurts shooting out into the confined space — enveloping my cock in its own warm jizz.

She lies down and I, still in her, collapse on top of her. Neither of us dare move.

“On three,” she says.


“One. Two. Three!” she counts and at the appointed moment, I pull out in one swoop.

“Ahhh,” I call out.


“Just feels good coming out too.”

“Happy now?” she asks me.

“Yeah, it’s been too long since we did that,” I say as she gingerly gets up and goes to the bathroom.

“What about breakfast?” she says when she comes back into the bedroom and finds me asleep on the bed.

“Later,” I grunt.

“Oh boy, the window’s closed now,” she says as she kisses me on the cheek. “Are you really going to sleep?”

“Just for a little while.”

After a few moments, I hear her sneaking out the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“I’m going to get brunch with a friend because I wasn’t invited to your imaginary pizza party.”

“Have fun and think of me.”

“Don’t worry, Daddio, I will — every time I sit down.”

[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