Tacos for Dinner, Eye-Candy for Dessert

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Help Wanted ads are always a gamble, especially when the help that is wanted is of a sexual nature. Lo’s very brief ad simply read: Is this your idea of a good time? — Be: single, good looking, intelligent, literate, interesting, and hung. Tell me about yourself and include a face pic. Must be willing to voice verify.

She included a pic of a lustful woman being penetrated by a well-endowed man as her husband observed close at hand. Apparently that is what many men think of as a good time because she received over two hundred responses which she quickly narrowed down to five in short order.

It’s almost too easy to eliminate people. There were three simple instructions in the ad: 1) tell me about yourself; 2) include a face pic; 3) be literate. Anyone who didn’t meet those criteria was out automatically. That narrowed the field by about 75%. The rest were weeded out based upon either a) the things that they said or; b) their appearance. The five who survived were attractive and they had written something interesting. Of those five, two responded to a request for a phone number and one said, “Better than voice verify, come flirt with me at work.” He told us the name of the place where he bartends and what nights he’d be there.

I picked Lo up from school just around seven — another twelve hour Thursday for her — and she was starving, as usual. “Where do you want to go?” I asked.


“You want to go home and I’ll make you something and then we can go out to your beau’s bar.”

“Let’s just drive straight there.”

“You sure?” I asked. Usually Lo likes to doll herself up and get herself off before these sorts of things.

“Yeah. Step on it, I’m hungry.”

I bet she was hungry and who knows for what.

The bar was clear across town — just about as far away from her school as one could be and remain in the same city. Luckily for both of us there was no traffic getting there. Lo and I had spent very little time in this part of town and when we got there we found it charming with all sorts of narrow streets and picturesque little brownstones. Unfortunately, that also meant not much parking.

“We’ll never find a spot!” Lo started, indicating to me that she was growing “hangry.”

I began to panic, lest her full wrath set in, but to my great relief we found a spot only a few blocks away. We got out and walked along the romantically lit sidewalk with all the plate glass windowed restaurants filled with cheerful patrons and it put us both in a good mood.

At the very end of the street was the establishment in which we’d find Dean, the jeans wearing finalist, bartending. We walked in and were greeted by two young ladies in their twenties. They were more than happy to seat us at a table, but Lo walked right past them, dismissively, straight to the bar and sat down where she would have an optimal view of the man tending it.

Oh yes, my good readers, she was smitten. Immediately her tongue began wetting her lips and she — always a critic of the “mouth-breather” — sat there, slack-jawed, staring at this handsome, fit, and very sexy man behind the bar.

He asked her if she’d like a drink and it was like calling someone from out of a dream. Embarrassed, she asked for a little more time.

“So, you like, I take it?” I asked as I sat next to her, enjoying her devouring eyes as she followed his ass.

“Mmmmm Hmmmm,” was all she could say as she again licked her lips, as if in anticipation of what she’d like to put between them.

He came around again and asked for our drink orders. It was a Mexican restaurant, so she ordered the Margarita. I was in the mood for a strong drink that would last a while and so I asked for a Long Island Ice Tea. “Oh,” laughed Lo, “that’s a ladies drink!”

Dean, the bartender, looked behind the bar and then back up at me and said, “I don’t think I have all the drinks necessary to make that,” apologetically.

“Hun,” said Lo, “just order a beer. He doesn’t have all night.”

I ordered a beer and was a little surprised by Lo’s belittling attitude, yet, I didn’t mind since I knew her mind was elsewhere.

A short time later Dean came around again to ask for our food order. Lo looked at him seductively and asked, “What do you like?”

He seemed a little surprised by this and he said, “Um, well, I’ve only been here a couple of weeks, but everyone likes the fish tacos.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have, if you recommend it.”

She was seducing him, right there in the middle of the crowded bar!

I passed on food since I was too caught up in the activities to eat. In addition to Lo’s little game of puss and mouse, the World Series was on the television above the bar. Slowly the crowd at the bar filled in before the food had arrived and packed the place.

There was a couple sitting to the left of Lo — the man right next to her and his date to his left. The lady kept on giving me looks as if she was trying to lock eyes with mine. I ignored her, but her man took note of Lo’s seduction. Was it just coincidence that Lo had worn a top to school that showed a perfect view of her cleavage?

To my right were two guys who were there to watch the game, but they were already half-in-the-bag when they arrived. The older gent next to me kept on bumping into me and when I got up to use the loo, he apparently tried to talk up Lo. When I returned, I had to interrupt him. He was standing very close to her. Lo rolled her eyes as if to say, “Please, this guy is a jerk.”

Lo’s food arrived and she looked at me and said, “There ain’t no sexy way to eat a taco!” She dove in and, to her credit, she didn’t make too much of a mess with it.

All through dinner our hushed whispers were to the effect of: Do you think he knows who we are? (Lo had sent him a couple of partially revealing pics, but no face pic.) Should we introduce ourselves? Do you want to? What do you want to do?

He, for his part, played it cool. Yes, he talked to us, but he never let on that we were anything to him other than random patrons there to see the game.

Lo was on her second margarita and though she was hesitant at first to introduce herself, by now she was feeling much more desirous. “I think I’m going to tell him. Is that ok, Daddio?”

“Of course it is,” I said, taking mental note that there was a hotel not too far away. This guy had said explicitly that he was into threesome play.

But, by a stroke of bad luck, just as Lo got up the fortitude to announce our intentions, Dean came over and introduced us to the woman behind the bar and said, “She’ll be taking care of you.”

“But, but, but,” stammered Lo, “should we close out?”

“No need,” said Dean, “we share everything.”

Lo and I turned to each other and weren’t sure what to do, but before we could decide on a course of action, Dean had already put on his jacket and exited the bar.

We both felt a sense of deflation.

Soon thereafter we got up to go. We were both feeling cozy and romantic and I was very glad that Lo had enjoyed her drinks, her food, and her eye candy. When we got in the car, she unzipped my jeans and went to work on me.

“Daddy,” she asked, “is this what you think he’d like me to do?”

“Any man,” I said, “would like you to do that.” Her lips were wrapped around my cock as I maneuvered the car through the narrow streets. She continued in that manner the whole way home.

When we got in, I gave her what she wanted as she whispered in my ear all the reasons why she wanted this guy Dean. She came twice before I finally let loose and put an end to the tension of the evening.

The next morning there was an e-mail from Dean: “Did you guys come last night?”

Boy did we! I mean, Lo wrote back, “Guess.”

“My guess is yes,” he said.

“How did you know?” asked Lo.

“Because you were fucking me with your eyes before you even sat down and you were licking your lips the whole night.”

“Was I really that obvious?”


“Did you like what you saw?” asked Lo.

“Very much. I don’t know if you could tell, but I was hard all night.”

[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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