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“But Daddy, it’s Thanksgiving,” whined Lo.
“COVID Thanksgiving,” I reminded her.
“Exactly. All the more reason.”
“Lo, though I admire your generosity of spirit. . .”
“More like horniness of flesh.”
“Whatever. The fact is that this Thanksgiving isn’t going to be like Thanksgivings past.”
“I know, but maybe I could just. . .”
“Absolutely not.”
That, as they say, was that.
Lo had wanted to continue with her ‘lock-down panties-down’ frolics. Since the beginning of COVID she had been the goto girl for the brothers across the street, MILF Meri and her merry band of horny men, and Professor Robert Smith. For her, this was a reduction in her socializing and she was complaining about it. She envisioned a very thankful Thanksgiving Day meal with her as the main course.
But reality was not accommodating. COVID numbers were up. Though Lo likes it when things go up, this was not one of those things.
“So, it will just be the two of us?” she asked meekly.
“I’m afraid so. Am I not enough for you?”
“Oh, Daddio, you’re the world to me.”
“That’s more like it.”