How many a night had I said NO? How many a night had she said PLEASE? — until I got the crazy idea in my head that I might be able to change her whoring ways. I’d come home at night from a long day at the office and she’d jump all over me with her panting, “Have me. Have me.” All I’d want to have was a stiff drink and a soft bed. All she’d want was a stiff cock and to give head. Our peak hours were not in sync.

So, I took to trying to mollify her by caressing her forehead, gently stroking her hair and whispering to her as if she were a dog who could be lulled to sleep by the gentle love of its master. But all she wanted was the bone. It didn’t matter if it were my bone — anyone’s bone would suffice for that hungry hound.

At night Lo would try to grab my package, slowly unbuttoning the button-fly of my pajamas. When I’d try to brush her away she’d say “I don’t want to fuck it, I just want to caress it.” Inevitably, I’d give in and, in a swoosh, she’d jump on top of me and add, “with my vagina.” While she was straddling me, going back and forth as if rowing a boat, she’d tell me, “You know, it wasn’t until my second year of college that I could say the word ‘vagina.’ It’s amazing how far I’ve come.”

“Yes, and how frequently,” I added.

[Excerpt from the story: “GOOD GIRL: Tried to Domesticate You, But You’re an Animal — You Got to Have It. . . Thick,” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]

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

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