“Tell me something.”

“What, Daddy?”

“Tell me something. . . bad.”

“What do you want to know, Daddy?”

“Tell me something bad. Some deep-down dirty secret.”

“But Daddy, you already know everything.”

“No, Lo, there’s more. I know there’s a lot more. Tell me.”

This is how many of our nights on the bed begin. Sometimes I’m already in Lo and lying on top of her soft, warm body as I whisper these words in her ear. Sometimes I’m lying beside her, caressing her breasts or feeling my way down to her pleasure spot. But nothing gets me up and going like her pillow confessions.

The other night we were sitting on the couch. I was reading and she was lying with her legs over my lap. As is her want, she began to play with herself; stroking her wet pussy; inserting her finger, licking it to taste herself. She grabbed my hand and pulled it to her mouth. She took my index and middle fingers in her mouth and, with her hand, she pushed them deep down her throat. My fingers were well past the point where the tongue becomes the throat. I was past where her tonsils would be if she still had her tonsils. She kept my fingers there for a moment and then slowly sucked on them as she pulled them out.

Image for post
Lola Looking Like Lust Incarnate

“Where’d you learn to do that, Lo?” I asked her.

“Here and there,” she said with a smile.

“No, really. Where’d you learn to do that?

“I sucked a lot of cock in my teen years,” she said, as the crotch in my pants developed a visible bulge.

I continued reading as she slowly undid my pants and slid them off me, got on her knees on the floor, and took my rock-hard cock deep in her mouth — as far back as my fingers had been. She looked up at me with those eyes that say, “I’m hungry, Daddy. Feed me.”

I took her to the bedroom and, with the candles illuminating the room, I asked her to tell me about how she learned to suck fingers like that. “Tell me Lo.”

“You remember Tim, don’t ya Daddy?”

“Yes,” I said, as I rubbed my cock up and down the side of her leg, holding her close to me so all she had to do was whisper.

“Well, Tim was 23 and I, well, I wasn’t of age yet. That made him very nervous. He wouldn’t have me, Daddy.”

“Go on,” I said as I maneuvered on top of her and positioned my hard-on to penetrate her pussy.

“Well, before he let me suck his cock, he wouldn’t do anything with me at all. He was so afraid. He knew it was wrong. But I, I was. . .”

“A nympho.”

“Right, Daddy. I was a nympho. I wanted him. I wanted him to cum. So, we would go out in his car and he’d park it in some empty parking lot somewhere. We’d kiss, hot and heavy kisses. He’d fondle my breasts and I’d grab his cock from over his pants. I could feel how hard and large it was. I just wanted to have it in my mouth. But he wouldn’t let me.”

“Go on,” I said again as I slid my shaft deep inside her. This gave her pause. But then she continued.

“So, I would sit next to him and I’d take his fingers in my mouth and I’d suck on them.”

As she said this she took my fingers in her mouth to demonstrate. Again she took them deep to the back of her throat. She pulled them out slowly.

“I would do this, sucking on his fingers like they were his dick and with his other hand he’d pull out his cock and start stroking it until he came.”

[Excerpt from the story “Father Confessor” as found on the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]

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

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