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Robert went on to tell us about an encounter he had in Portugal where he had met up with a young woman in one of the bars. Everything was going fine. She invited him back to her place. He went in the taxi with her. When they arrived and she invited him upstairs, he demurred. “I didn’t want to her to think it was her fault. I didn’t want to be put in that awkward situation, so I just returned to my hotel room. . . alone.”

Lo put her hand on Robert’s knee and said, “Maybe you just need a script.”

“A script?”

“Yeah, something to take the pressure off.” She walked him through a few different lines he could use before he tried to use something else. He liked the idea. Then Lo asked if this had always been a problem. Robert said that it was something that was intermittently problematic. At different stages in his life it was an issue.

“With Linda it was never a problem.” Linda was an old flame with whom he had reconnected soon after separating from his wife.

“Why do you think that is?” asked Lo.

“Because. . .” he thought, “she and I have a history. We were friends first. We have known each other so long. We have a connection that isn’t only sexual. I think that’s what it is.”

“And with these other women you think that they’re judging you strictly on your performance.”

“Well, it’s not as straight-forward as that, but that probably has something to do with it. That, and I feel so damn old. Too old to be hitting on women in bars and going home with strangers.”

“Oh, please, Robert!” said Lo. “You’re not old. You’re handsome. I’m sure that all your students have crushes on you. Who wouldn’t be attracted to you?” Lo’s words were gushing with her own feelings. “A smart college professor, tall, foreign, mysterious.” Her arm was caressing his bicep now. “I’m attracted to you,” she said, probably unintentionally.

“But Lo,” said Robert, uncomfortably, “You’ve got a dashing, handsome, intelligent, talented guy already.” He looked over at me as I sat by the fire watching the two of them from behind my stoned eyes as if watching a movie. I couldn’t even talk. That pot was really affecting me.

While we were talking, in the distance Lo spotted a pod of dolphins swimming by in the moonlight. She got up and just about ran to the shore to get a better look at them. “LOOK!” she called to us, “Look how beautiful they are!” As she said that, my pot-fogged mind thought, “Yes, yes, she is beautiful,” as I admired her in her little tank-top and bikini bottom.

After calling back to Lo to affirm her excitement, Robert said to me, “I’m really not reciprocating all this affection, you know. I appreciate her doting on me but. . .”

It took every ounce of effort I had to get my mouth to move, but I finally said to Robert, “I know, Robert. It’s not you, it’s Lo. She’s very fond of you, you know. And something about us — I think we told you on Valentine’s Day — that you must understand. I’m not the jealous type. Lo is free to do as she pleases. Don’t worry, you’re not crossing any lines.”

Lo returned and sat down between us again. I was admiring how sexy she was. Without “my” permission, my member was growing in my shorts.

Lo said to Robert, taking up the conversation where it left off, “Maybe you just need to be with someone you know as a friend. Someone you know isn’t going to judge you. Someone who can please you and give you what you want without pressure.” She was giving him that Lo look — the deep stare with the eyes, the lip-licking tongue, the flash of her pearly whites — as her hand caressed his arm.

“I’m sorry, Robert,” I interjected, “but I told you she’s an attention slut.”

Before Robert had a chance to say anything, Lo looked at me and asked, “You said what? That I’m an attention slut?” I didn’t even have a chance to answer before she turned to Robert and said, “It’s true. I am.” And she followed it up with, “I know what you need.”

Robert looked perplexed.

“Reverse psychology,” said Lo.

“What?” he asked.

The three of us paused and sat looking into the dancing flames of the fire against the black background as it hypnotically captivated all of us. Almost without anyone’s notice, Lo slowly put her right hand down between her legs, over her bikini bottom. She began lightly stroking it. She had an idea and she was enjoying the idea.

“What if a beautiful woman tempted and teased you,” she said, “but told you you absolutely couldn’t have her? What if. . .” she trailed off and now she put her right hand down under her bikini bottom. “What if you could look, but you couldn’t touch?”

Lo spread her legs wide and slightly swiveled in her chair so that Robert could see what she was doing clearly. Robert looked directly at her and I could tell he was aroused. I just enjoyed the view of the two of them. As the fire was illuminating them with a scintillating orange hue, the thought crossed my mind that this was a delightful vision of hell — the temptation of Tantalus. I looked up at the distant lights of the dark, bejeweled sky and thought that Lo is a fallen angel, divinely deviant and devilish.

Lo diddled herself, occasionally pulling the bikini bottom to the side for Robert’s viewing pleasure, until she came — calling out on the vast vacant beach. From my angle, I could see that she squirted onto her calf. I don’t know what Robert saw, but he was transfixed with the sight.

When Lo was done, she let out a big sigh and said, “Oh, God that felt good! Did you like that, Robert?”

Robert was speechless.

The fire was dying down and the air got a bit cooler. “We should go in,” said Robert. We each grabbed what we could, but we couldn’t take everything. When we got to the house, I offered to go to grab the last bit and take a bucket of water to put out the fire, but Robert insisted. Lo went with him, leaving me to wonder what they’d be up to in the privacy of the night.

Not too much time passed and they got back. We said our goodnights and Robert went to his room as Lo and I went to ours.

“Did you like that, Daddy?” asked Lo as she lay next to me.

I could hear the distant crash of the waves on the beach through our open window. I was bleary-eyed and felt like I was hallucinating. “Lo, you were bad.”

“I know,” she said as she grabbed my cock. She went under the covers and sucked on it. She returned up to my mouth, kissed me and asked, “Did you like it? Did you like how bad I was?”

“What did you do with him when you went back to get the stuff?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing.”


“Do you really want to know?”


“What do you think I did?”

“I think you were even more bad.”

“And you’d be right.”

“What naughtiness were you up to?”

“Well,” she began seductively, “we walked back to the fire and we talked a little. I asked if I was able to get him hard. He said yes. When we got to the fire I asked, ‘Do you want to kiss me?’ He stuttered a bit, but said yes and I kissed him like this.” She put her lips on mine and kissed me for a long time, twirling her tongue within my mouth.

When she disengaged, she continued, “As I kissed him, I reached down and I felt that he was very hard. . . and very large.” She emphasized the word, drawing it out.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I grabbed him hard, like this.” She demonstrated on me. “And I whispered, ‘I’d like to suck it.’”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. I just got on my knees in the sand and pulled down his shorts and wrapped my tongue around his big, thick, hard cock like this.” She again demonstrated on me.

“Did he cum?” I asked when she returned to the pillow.

“No, he didn’t. I left him hard up saying, ‘Anytime you need help getting firm, you know where to find me.’ He didn’t say anything. We put out the fire and as we walked back I held his arm. Are you mad at me, Daddio?”

[Excerpt from the story, “Attention Slut,” from the blog:]

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

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