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Though Lola had broken it off with Hunter, she still sent him texts now and again — I knew. The “lustful little slut” doesn’t just flip a switch and shut off. No, not at all. She gets off — again and again. And that’s exactly what she had been doing with Hunter’s e-mails, thoughts of him, and retelling to me the various details of their encounters during our moments of intimacy.

When she got home and told me of her inability to concentrate (on class) she broached the subject: “Do you think we should invite him out for a drink?” she asked, all innocent (not).

“I don’t see what harm could come of it if we did,” I said, knowing full well what could cum.

No sooner had I given permission than the solicitation was sent. The next week we met Hunter at a crowded new restaurant in our neighborhood. We had to wait upwards of a half-hour at the bar for a table and the din of conversation among the patrons made it difficult for the three of us to converse hardly at all. Lo just hung on Hunter’s arm as if no caesura had happened. Eventually we were seated in the quiet, far more civilized section of the establishment. We had ordered tapas and Lo took the initiative to pick out her choice dishes for Hunter and me.

We spoke about this and that and caught up with one another and all was pleasant and polite. But Lo knew from her sporadic communiqués with Hunter that he had managed to find two other “floozies” (her word, not mine) on the net who would service him without compunction. This made Lo irate in private, but she put on the charm with Hunter, playing it off as if it didn’t faze her one bit.

“How’s what’s her name and the other one?”

“You mean Jen and Karen?”

“Yeah, those two.”

“They’re good. I’m supposed to see Jen next week and I saw Karen last week.”

“Oh, well I hope they were everything you wanted them to be,” she said, unable to contain her illogical jealousy.

Hunter knew enough to say, “Oh, well they weren’t you, if that’s what you mean.”

“Go on,” said Lo vainly.

“I mean, Karen is hot” — mistake! — “and Jen says she’s really into women. In fact, she is eager to meet you and have a threesome. . . or foursome.” (He added the last bit when he realized that he had totally forgotten to factor me in to his plans.)

“Yeah, well,” Lo began, “that would be fun, but, as you know, I’ve sworn off of you. At least until you’re on the up-and-up.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation until Lo asked about Hunter’s guy friend to whom Hunter had confided his discovery of this nymphomaniacal vixen. “So, is he single?” she asked.

“He’s with someone, but it’s kinda complicated,” Hunter explained.

After giving some details, Lo asked, “He’s still reading the blog?”

“So far as I know,” he said.

Lo’s eyes drifted off into her own thoughts for a bit. Hunter’s arm was around her shoulder as the two of them sat side-by-side, opposite me. A group of four was on a double date to our left and a couple was on what looked like a first date to our right. We were the only odd numbered party among the tables.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Just imagining,” said Lo, staring off into the middle-distance.

“What?”

“A little fantasy of mine.”

“Oh boy,” I said to Hunter, “here we go.”

“What?” asked Lo coquettishly, now looking at us.

“Out with it. Just tell us. Don’t make us have to beg you for it.”

“Well, you know what my biggest sex-fantasy is,” she said to me.

“To be bound by Hunter and me and have us slap your face with our cocks?” I asked under my breath.

“No, not that one.”

“Double penetration?”

“Not that one either.”

“Well, we’re not playing goddamned 20 questions here. What is it? I could go on all night with the fantasies you’ve told me about and not hit the nail on the head.” I realized too late that I had raised my voice. I looked around self-consciously. Lo was unconcerned about eavesdroppers.

“My favorite,” she said as if that word would jog my memory.

“Enlighten us, please.”

“Classic bukkake,” she whispered, looking first at Hunter and then at me. “I would like to assemble a hand-picked group of men — say ten or fifteen — and have them all waiting outside my hotel room. I don’t know, I imagine it’s a conference like Eroticon or something and I send HH with my special business cards to the men (and women) that I’m interested in and he gives them a card with the hotel room number and a time on the back. They show up and HH tells them to line up and wait while I’m inside the room on the bed. HH has set up folding chairs for all of them and then, on my word, he opens the door and lets them in. I’m on the bed in a sexy little number.”

“Like the red nighty?” Hunter interrupted.

“Yeah, like that, only this time, with a red thong under it. They come in and sit down. HH reads off the rules: You may remove your pants. You may jack it. You may not approach the bed. You may not take photos or record the show. You may ask permission of Lola to cum. When granted you may cum.

“The lights are low and I begin my show. I spread my legs and rub my puss. I slowly remove my clothing. I have my toys nearby and I use them on myself. I tease and tempt the men. Eventually, one-by-one, they ask permission to cum. I say to them, one at a time, that they have permission to get up out of their chairs and cum on me. They obey; each one respectfully and dutifully, until I’m covered in their hot mess.”

Lo’s face was flush and I, for my part, was looking to the left and right to see if any of the other patrons were within earshot of Lo’s sexy voice. My eyes darted back and forth, but if they were listening, they didn’t let on.

A waiter refilled our wine glasses and, after drinking in his good looks with her eyes, Lo continued.

“Once they have all cum, I would jill it for them and really turn up the heat to see who among them could get it up again. The lucky ones would be granted permission by HH to approach the bed where I would take them in my mouth and suck them off until they came on my face or in the back of my throat.

“Then they would return once again to their seats and the show would continue. This time I might play with my ass or beg them to fuck me. Whoever could get it up for round three would be invited to the bed and I would grant him the special privilege of having me however he wished.

That’s my number one sex-fantasy.”

Hunter and I just looked at her, dumbfounded.

“Pardon me,” she said, “while I go powder my nose.”

She got up from her chair and dragged her right hand across Hunter’s broad shoulders as she walked passed, carrying her clutch in her left.

“Is she going to. . . ?” Hunter began to ask.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I answered.

After some small talk about the food and the wine, Lo returned.

“Much better,” she said, fully satisfied with herself. “Do you want to come over for a nightcap?” she asked Hunter.

Needless to say, he accepted and Lo road with him back to our place. I’m not sure what happened in his truck, but when they finally arrived, she fixed all of us some drinks and then said, “Oh, I could really use that massage you promised me,” to Hunter as she rolled her shoulders.

“Sure,” he said, happy to have the chance to touch her more.

She got down on her knees in front of him as he sat on the couch. They were both across from me and I sipped my whiskey as I took in the sight. She pulled the spaghetti straps of her dress down over her shoulders and Hunter’s hands got to work on her neck.

“Ahhhh, yessss,” she said, rolling her head as if it had become dislodged from her spine. “Why don’t you ever do this for me?” she asked accusatorily of me.

“That’s it,” she said to Hunter. “Yeah, right there.” His hands felt around her shoulders and then slowly moved down to her breasts. “Oh, God, I’m so tight,” she said. He pulled her shoulders back and stretched out her chest. Then his hands again found their way back to her breasts.

After some time, she turned her head around and looked up at Hunter from down between his crotch. “Do you want me to massage you now?” she asked.

He thought it was a good idea and so they switched places. Lo pulled her dress up to her thighs so she could spread her legs wide enough for Hunter to fit between them, allowing me a clear view of her pussy.

She began massaging his shoulders and neck and he, in his turn, moaned and groaned. After some time he then turned around and found his face directly even with her pantiless puss. “Just like in my dream,” he said.

“You bad boy. You know that’s not allowed,” she said as she dropped her hands into her lap and pulled down her dress. “Are you going to fuck me tonight?” she asked, purposefully ambiguous as to who was the recipient of that request.

Both Hunter and I said, “What?”

“You, HH,” she clarified, “are you going to fuck me, or what?”

“If you want,” I said.

“You fucking better fuck me tonight!” she said, adding, “I need a good fuck. You better have a good long fuck in you tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Hunter” I said, “Somehow, when she was a child, she acquired a fishwife’s vernacular.”

Hunter laughed a little. It was clear to me that after so many months of teasing me about her sexploits with Hunter, she was now teasing Hunter about what was in store for me.

“God, I love the word fuck!” she said as her right hand threw all caution to the wind and she began fondling herself on the couch.

“Darling, have some decorum!” I scolded.

“My boyfriend, the pompous-ass writer,” she mocked.

“My girlfriend, the porn star slut,” I shot back.

“Well,” said Hunter, awkwardly, “I guess I should be going.”

“Just as soon as you’re on the up-and-up, you can have some too,” she said, flashing him a quick looksee of what he was missing out on.

“Yeah, that’ll happen soon,” he said sarcastically.

We said our goodnights and as soon as Hunter was out the door Lo jumped on me.

“Darling, you were very cruel tonight,” I said, rebuffing her.

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“The way you teased that poor guy. He’s going to have blue-balls for a week.”

“You think so?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“I’m sure of it. When you were sitting between his legs facing me, it was clear that he was hard as a rock.”

“Oh, I knew that. I could feel it with the back of my head. Why do you think I kept rolling my neck like this?” She demonstrated.

“You’re a wicked, wicked woman!” I scolded.

“Well, it serves him right.”

“For what?”

“For, for, for seeing those other floozies! That’s what for!”

“Darling, you won’t do him; he’s gonna go prowling for an alley cat who will.”

She stomped off toward the bedroom.

I was picking up the tumblers and putting them in the sink when I heard, “ARE YOU GOING TO GET IN HERE AND FUCK ME OR WHAT? JESUS! WHAT’S A GIRL GOTTA DO TO GET LAID AROUND HERE?!”

There was no denying her. Not that I wanted to deny her — I completely admit, she had me standing at attention with her little performance and I was just lucky enough to be the object of her desire that night.

I went into the bedroom and found her on the bed playing with her puss, just like she had described in her little fantasy, only I was her captive audience this time.

“Take off your clothes, take out the camera and get pics of this. I want to show him exactly what he’s missing.”

I stripped quickly and then fumbled with the Cannon EOS and got off some good shots before, standing over her as she masturbated for me, I got off. . . one good shot.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“For what?” she said, dripping from chin to chest.

“For cumming before you.”

“It was exactly what I wanted.”

That was sweet of her to say, but she was not satisfied. She rolled over, stuck her bum up, and said, “Now finger my puss and ass till I cum.” It took her a long time. Longer than usual. By that I mean, like five minutes. While I did it I asked, “What did you do in the bathroom at the restaurant?”

“What do you think I did?”

“I think you jilled it.”

“And you would be right,” she said, grasping for her clutch that was on the bed, opening it, and pulling out her little battery operated silver bullet. She turned it on, placed it on her clit while I had three fingers in her puss and one in her ass, and she let the vibrations take her over the edge.

After she had squirted all over the covers and she was catching her breath, she said, “Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“What do you think of me?”

“What do I think of you?”

“Yeah, I mean, am I really so bad?”

“Darling, you’re the baddest little girl I’ve ever met.”

She looked confused.

“And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really.”

“Good, cause I don’t plan on changing.”

[Excerpt from the story, “Kiss, Kiss, Gang-Bang,” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]

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

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