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Lo — “When’s the last time you had sex?”

Dean — “About six or seven months ago. I told you, with my ex.”

Lo — “Really?! Nothing since then?”

Dean — “I mean, a lot of women try to pick me up and I am a good listener — they like that — but we almost always end the night as friends. No sex.”

Lo — “When’s the last time you came?”

Dean — “This morning, to your pictures.”

Lo — “How often do you jack it?”

Dean — “At least once a day.”

Lo — “How many times can you cum in one session?”

Dean — “I could probably cum seven or eight times.”

Lo — “What’s your record?”

Dean — “I don’t know. I never counted.”

Conversation went on like this for some time. Every direct question was met with a very direct answer — no skirting the issues.

Turns out that Dean had been involved in a few threesomes with other couples and he liked it. He had bartended most of his life and he told us that down south couples would come into the bar and, much like Lo, the lady would flirt with him and after a few drinks they’d invite him to join them.

For her part, Lo made no attempt to disguise her interest. She told him that he was so good looking, he could be a model. She expressed her incredulity at his lack of sexual partners lately. And she continued to unconsciously lick her lips, rub his leg and arm, and squirm in her seat excitedly.

At one point, Lo asked Dean about what he does for fun and, among other things, he mentioned reading. He rattled off a few authors that he likes and Lo perked up and said, “Well, H.H. here is something of a writer himself.”

Up to that point I had been unobtrusively quiet, like the proverbial fly on the wall during the first date of this sexually charged couple. But now the spotlight was on me briefly. But before Lo could go on about what I write — no doubt, eager to mention the blog — Dean said, “Oh yes, I know. I’ve read a lot of his stuff. . . about you.”

“You told him?!” Lo said to me, feigning anger at the revelation of her secret side.

“No,” I defended.

“Oh,” she said, turning back to Dean, “did you search our e-mail?”

“No, the name of the blog was written on one of the sexy pics you sent me.”

Lo gave me a long hard stare. “I told you not to put that on my pics!”

“Whoops, I guess you sent one from the collection.”

“Well,” Lo said to Dean, “I guess you know all about me then.”

“I liked everything I saw.”

“Do you like what you see now?”

“Very much.”

“Where are you going after this?” Lo asked suggestively.

“Well, I was thinking about going back home.”

“How would you get there?”

“I take the train.”

“How do you get to the train station?”

“I walk.”

“Walk?! It’s such a cold night for a walk. We’ll drive you. I mean, if you want, we can give you a ride. Is that ok with you H.H.?” she asked, utilizing her “Please, Daddy,” tone, if not saying the words themselves.

“That’s fine. Would you like a ride? I mean, I can drive you wherever you need to go.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” he said.

I got up, put on my coat and went to get the car. As I drove back around, I found Lo holding onto Dean’s arm. They walked to toward the car and there was a moment — a brief, but stop-motion moment — where I wondered, “Will Lo get in the front with me or the back with him?”

Silly question. She and he got in the back. I began driving, slowly, looking in the rearview mirror.

“What do you want?” asked Lo, her hands on his legs, moving up toward his crotch.

“I’d really like to kiss you,” said Dean.

“Good,” said Lo.

“I mean, if it’s ok with, H.H.,” added Dean.

“Oh, him,” said Lo, looking at me in the mirror, “don’t mind him. He’s our taxi driver. He’ll take us anywhere we want. Isn’t that right?”

“You two have fun back there,” I said, “and leave the driving to me.”

They immediately locked lips and were going at it. I could tell that he had his hands on her legs and she was eagerly gripping him.

“Oh my,” Lo said, taking a breath, “you’re so hard.”

“I told you, it’s been a long time.”

They kissed again in the shadows of the back seat. I could get a glimpse of Lo’s beautiful face every now and then in the reflected light of the street lamps.

“Do you want to cum?” I heard her ask.

“I do,” he said, and after a pause he added, “But I should get back.”

“It’s ok. We can give you a ride right to your door, if you want,” said Lo.

“No, I really should get out at the train station.”

We were almost there. They kissed again. I pulled up in front of the station. “Are you sure?” asked Lo again, full of desire.

“Yeah.”

“Well, tell me this. What are you going to do when you get home?”

“I’m going to jack it.”

“To what?”

“To pics of you.”

“That’s a good boy. And will you tell me all about it?”

“Yes.”

Lo got out of the car and gave him one last kiss goodnight. He waved at me from the curb. I saw him say, “Thanks, H.H.!”

Lo got in the front seat and grabbed my cock the way she had been grabbing his. “Oh, you’re hard as a rock too!”

“Of course I am.”

“Did you like that, Daddio?”

“You were so sexy tonight, I can’t even tell you.”

“Why do you think he didn’t want us to drive him all the way home?”

“Lo, women are not the only ones to be fearful of strangers. He just got jumped a week ago by three guys. He probably is just being extra cautious.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.”

“I’m sure he wanted to jump you — in a good way.”

“You think so, Daddio?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Will you jump me as soon as we get home?”

“You can be sure of it.”

She fumbled with my zipper a bit and then put her head down, easing her mouth over my erect phallus, bobbing up and down the entire ride home.

When we got home she said, “I so wanted to do that to him.”

“Get naked, get in bed, spread your legs, and show me what else you wanted to do.”

[Excerpt from the story, “Getting Off,” 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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