“And how was your night?” I asked.
“Good,” she almost sang, enigmatically.
I took the bait. “What did you do?” Oh how I wished that I wasn’t just talking to her over the phone from so far away, but that I was with her, in bed, having our usual pillow talk.
“I had dinner with Cammy and then went back to her place for a while. We talked for about two hours and then Andy came home.”
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“MmmmmHmmmm,” she said in a way that indicated she enjoyed something and enjoyed it too much.
“What’s that mean?” I asked, frustrated at Lo’s teasing.
“Let’s just say I learned a lot about Andy tonight.”
“A lot? Like what?”
“Like, he has a long popsicle-stick cock that’s just as much fun to lick.”
Oh, now she was just toying with me. I’m sure she could hear in the frustration of my strained voice the tightening of my groin, the hardening of my manhood.
You see, Cammy has been Lo’s friend since middle school. The two of them were thick as thieves — sexual thieves — all through the ages and stages of their lives. So far as Lo’s friends go, Cammy is her closest competitor in nympho-tendencies. In middle school they whispered to each other under the sheets about their blossoming sexualities. In high school they trolled the beaches together to pick up guys. And in college they roomed together freshman year. But then they realized that their comparable sex drives led them to conflict over who got the dorm room to herself for lascivious purposes: masturbation, phone sex, virtual computer cam sex, or actual sex with different guys — or many guys.
After realizing that they were too alike to be roommates, they began to go their separate ways, though never losing touch with each other over the years. Now Cammy had moved to our city and they had reconnected — a process that was made all the more easy by the fact that Cammy had finally found a boyfriend. Andy, her beau, was a quiet, unassuming, hipster in his twenties who was a tough nut to crack. Upon first meeting him, I could tell he held a lot in reserve, but was unwilling to display the interesting facets of his personality without investing the time to draw him out. Having Andy around made Lo more willing to make plans with Cammy since there wasn’t the awkward third-wheel situation and also, though she tried to hide it, because Lo had a crush on Andy.
On the surface, it looked as if Cammy and Lo’s having each their respective beaus put an end to their sexual competition. But just beneath the surface, Lo was more than happy to brag about me, the benefits of a half-open hotwife-stag relationship, and how satisfied she is with her unsated situation.
For her part, Cammy expressed to Lo many times how she was envious of her. Cammy would like more than anything to be non-monogamous, but Andy had made it very clear that that was not a possibility, especially if the freedom to play was not reciprocal.
You see, before Andy, Cammy lusted for another fella named Ethan, but Ethan was dating someone else. Cammy used to go over to Ethan’s house and Ethan, in his peculiar ethical code, wouldn’t allow himself to fuck Cammy, but would allow her to blow him on a regular basis.
Now that she was with Andy, she still lusted for that which she couldn’t have and on occasion, she told Lo, she’d still sneak off to Ethan’s place when their respective boyfriend and girlfriend were not likely to discover them.
“How are Cammy and Andy?” I asked, knowing this whole backstory and wishing more than ever to erase the hundreds of miles that separated us that night.
“I spent almost two hours with Cammy listening to her tell me all about her sex life with Andy.”
“Really?” I asked, knowing full well where Lo was going with this.
“MmmmHmmm,” she said again.
“What are you doing?” I demanded since when Lo hums like that instead of answering a question, it usually means that she’s preoccupied and nothing preoccupies her quite as much as her own pussy.
“I’m just lying down,” she said in almost a whisper.
“In the bedroom, on the bed.”
“Are you naked?”
“Are you above or below the sheets?”
“Well, which is it?”
“Are the blinds open?”
“Are you touching yourself?”
“What else do I do in bed, naked, above the sheets with the blinds open?”
“So what did you learn today?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said seductively. “Well, it’s actually quite sad.”
“Yeah, sad. You see, Cammy — well you know Cammy — she has a libido almost as strong as mine.”
“Almost. No one could match yours, Sweetheart.”
“Right. And Andy only gives it to her once a week or less.” Lo said this the way some people whisper “cancer” with emphasis, yet in a hushed tone so as to avoid calling the dreaded scourge down upon themselves.
“That is sad,” I chimed in like a Greek chorus.
“But,” continued Lo, “she’s caught him a few times jacking it to porn on his computer. And that really bothers her.”
“Bothers her?! From what you told me, she jills it to porn almost as much as you do.”
“Yeah, well, that’s different.” Apparently Lo shared with Cammy this same double standard. “You know,” she explained, “it would bother me if I ever caught you jackin’ it to anything besides me.”
“I know dear, but luckily you don’t have to worry about that.”
“Go on,” she said, as vain as ever.
“Are you hard up now?”
“Have you looked at my pics?”
“Have you jacked it?”
“A bit — not to completion.”
“Mmmmmm,” she hummed again.
“Lo. Lo! Come back. I want to hear the end of the story.”
“Are you jackin’ it now?”
“Yes,” I admitted. Sitting in my lonely hotel room I had the computer open and had Googled “mysexlifewithlola” images in order to enjoy all of Lo’s erotic photos.
“Good,” she said curtly, before returning to the thread of the story. “So,” she continued, “she said she wasn’t so upset that he was watching porn, but that he was watching it without her.”
“Oh, that makes sense.”
“And she wanted to watch it with him, but when he showed her what he liked, she was appalled by the kind of porn he’s into. We got to talking about porn and feminist porn, and pro-sex, pro-consent porn, and porn for the ladies and we compared notes.”
“Ah ha,” I said, jackin’ it a little more vigorously now.
“Oh,” Lo said, aware of the change in my voice, “you’re into it now, are you?”
“MmmmmHmmmmm,” I said, half mocking her.
“Good,” she said curtly again, “because then I did something very, very bad.”
“What did you do?” Usually by “bad” Lo means “sexy.”
“You might be mad.”
“I might be.”
“It was very bad, Daddy.”
“Out with it, Lo,” I said sternly.
“I told her about the blog.”
“You did what?!”
“I told her about the blog.”
“Well, I didn’t tell her exactly where to find it or anything. I just told her that you write this blog all about our sex life.”
“You were bragging again.”
“Well, maybe a little. Is that so bad?”
“No, not if you don’t mind the friend you’ve known since childhood knowing all of your most intimate secrets, fantasies, and realities. Not to mention, seeing you — and me — naked!”
Lo laughed a little and said, “Well, if complete strangers can know all that, then why not Cammy?”
“Why not indeed,” I said disapprovingly.
“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she sung, channeling Scarlet O’Hara.
Suddenly a light bulb lit up above my head, “You want her to tell Andy about the blog and you want them to find it!”
Silence on the other end of the receiver.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” I pressed.
“May-be,” she drew out quite slowly.
“Oh, you are bad,” I said.
“Can I continue?” she asked, clearly trying to change the subject from her lascivious, exhibitionist ways to. . . well, to more of her lascivious, exhibitionist, flirty, slutty, nympho ways.
“No, you can’t continue. First admit that you want him to jack it to you — you egomaniacal, nymphomaniacal, attention-grabbing, boyfriend-fantasy stealing slut!”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
“Lo, you’re just luring them in, baiting them with your. . .”
“So?!” she interrupted, “It would do them a world of good — especially since she wants to get Andy to be more open-minded.”
“Open-minded,” I corrected, “not infatuated with her best friend.”
“Do you really think he’ll be infatuated?”
“I refuse to indulge your shameless promotion any further.”
“Oh, Daddy,” she whined, “you know you love it!”
She was right, but that didn’t mean she needed any encouragement from me.
I made some inarticulate guttural sound into the phone and she continued.
“Just as Cammy was beginning to question me all about you and us and our fun and funky sex-life, Andy walked in the door.”
“I’m sure he was a sight for your sex-starved eyes.”
“I am sex-starved. You left on Thursday and this happened Friday and I only had two orgasms Thursday night and three Friday before seeing them, and all of them were self-induced.”
“Poor baby,” I mocked.
“And here it is Saturday and, well, maybe I’ll just have to call up someone and have him over. You know, the protégés, have been hounding me to join them this weekend.”
“You promised you’d wait for me to get back.”
“But you’re away until Tuesday and that’s so long for me to wait,” she whined over-dramatically.
“A promise is a promise. And, besides, it sounds like you haven’t been chaste exactly.”
“They’ve hounded me, but not chased me.”
“That’s not the word I,” I began to correct her and then I heard her snickering on the other end of the line. “Oh, never mind. Continue with your story.”
“It was getting late and Cammy said to Andy, ‘Do you mind driving Lola home? I know you just got in, but I’m exhausted.’ He made no fuss about it and soon he and I were in the car, alone, together. He made some small-talk and then asked what Cammy and I had talked about together.
“‘Oh, girl stuff,’ I said. When he didn’t ask what sort of girl stuff, I helped him out a bit by saying, ‘You know, about sex, porn, masturbation. That sort of thing.’ I was wearing a skirt and I made sure that the hem of it was sliding up above my knees.”
“Did he notice?” I asked.
“Listen and I’ll tell you. Are you jacking it?”
“Good. So then he turned to me and said, ‘What?’ I nonchalantly repeated myself and he asked how all that came up. I said that Cammy had told me that she had caught him jackin’ it to porn and that she’d like to find some sort of porn that the two of them could watch together. ‘You know,’ I said, ‘there’s a lot of good, feminist porn that’s not demeaning or degrading to women. I could recommend a few sites, if you wanted.’ He was visibly uncomfortable, yet intrigued. ‘You watch porn?’ he asked. I just laughed and said, ‘Of course, silly!’ And then I added, ‘It’s my job.’”
“Your job?” I said to her.
“Well, knowing what’s out there is important for what I do.”
“OK, go on.”
“He asked me a lot of questions about my sexual practices and I told him that I’m used to having sex at least once a day ‘with someone,’ and that you’ve been away for two days already. He asked what I meant by ‘with someone’ and I told him, ‘It doesn’t have to be HH. He lets me play around with whomever I want.’ He asked me how that came about and I told him, flat out, that with us the situation was similar to theirs, only reversed. I said that you had caught me masturbating to porn a few times and I have been open and honest about masturbation. I told him that I masturbate at least once a day even when I have sex, but when I don’t have sex, like now when HH is away, I masturbate a lot more. I told him that you know my needs and know that you couldn’t possibly satisfy that sexual craving and so you let me fool around on the side.”
“Did that blow his mind?”
“I think so, because I saw him getting hard while he was driving.”
“You little tease!”
“I know, Daddy. It was fun.”
“Well, what did he say?”
“He asked me if I was going to masturbate when he dropped me off.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said, ‘Definitely, if not sooner.’ He asked me what I’d be masturbating to and I said, ‘Why do you want to know?’ He said because he was curious. I told him one of my favorite porn sites.”
“I’m not telling.”
“Oh, you’ll tell him, but you won’t tell me?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older. Anyhow, we pulled into the driveway just then and I thanked him for the ride and hopped out of the car, but before leaving, I leaned in the open window and asked, ‘Are you going to check out that porn page tonight?’ I saw him look down my blouse and he said that if I’d be watching it, he’d be watching it. I flashed him. . . a quick smile and said goodnight and then I walked up the steps to the house and lifted my skirt just a bit so he could see my ass in the headlights.”
“That I didn’t get to see that, yes.”
“Good. Do you think he jacked it thinking about me?”
And at that moment I came thinking about her, thinking about him, thinking all sorts of dirty things. She came on the other end of the phone to the sound of my voice and if I could have cum again, her voice would have been enough for that to happen.
“Tell me one thing,” I asked.
“What’s that, Daddy?”
“Did you go to that porn site before calling me?”
“What do you think?”
“I think I know the answer.”
“What you don’t know is that I texted Cammy when I was watching it.”
“And what did you say?”
“I just asked her, ‘Hey, what you two up to? Anything fun?’”
“And what did they say?”
“They said, ‘Hopefully, the same as you.’”
[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]