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“I’m hurtin’ for a squirtin’.” She spread her legs and encouraged me to come to the side of the bed. “Pound my pussy hard, Daddy.” I obeyed her every command. My long cock was inserted into her wet pussy smoothly and easily. Her right hand found its way to her clit and she rubbed it frantically. I love the feeling of her fingers on her clit, stimulating the top of my shaft. She came once, and again, and a third time before she put on her panties in a hurry to get ready for work. As she was hastily walking from her dresser to the mirror to brush her hair, she stopped cold in her tracks. “What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said.

“No. What?” I asked again.

“I just squirted in my panties. A delayed squirt. Oh well, I’ll be wet all day at work.” She continued on her trajectory to the mirror, brushed her long black hair while looking at herself in just her panties in the full-length mirror. She then slid on her jeans, put on her bra and a blouse, and we got in the car so I could give her a ride to the train.

“How’s your pussy?” I asked her.

“I’m so sore. My pussy lips are sore from the pounding you gave me and my clit is sore from rubbing it all night and this morning and my wet panties have soaked through to my jeans.”

“I’m sorry about that,” I said.

“Sorry? Oh Daddy, don’t you know by now that I love being able to feel the pain of your cock on my pussy all day at work? The only way it could be better would be if you had made me your little cream pie and I would slowly be leaking your cum into my panties as I sat in my chair.”

“Lo. Lo! Don’t get yourself all riled up again,” I said, knowing that she was prone to unzipping her jeans and stroking her clit right there in the rush-hour traffic on the way to work. And then I let out a little chuckle to myself.

“What?” she said.

“Nothing, Lo.”

“No, what?!” she demanded.


“Tell me or I’ll blow you right now.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked.

“Only you would take it as a threat,” she said angrily.

“I didn’t say I was taking it as a threat, I just was wondering if you were saying it as a threat.”

“It’s a promise,” she said as she licked her lips.

“OK, Lo,” I said, “I’ll tell you what made me laugh.”


“I was just thinking to myself, ‘No, you’re not a nympho. Not at all.’” I said sarcastically.

“Fuck you,” she said in defeat. She then took out her phone and was looking at it as we sat in traffic.

“What are you doing?” I asked, “Looking for more contestants?”

No,” she said with a scorn.

“What then?”

“I was just looking up the world’s record for biggest gang-bang.”

“Of course, cause that’s what every woman does on the way to work.”

“Right,” she said unconsciously as she scrolled down.

“919!? I could beat that easy!” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“The record. Some chick named Lisa Sparxxx, spelled S-p-a-r-x-x-x, fucked 919 guys in the same day. I could so easily beat that,” she said, her eyes glued to the screen.

“Oh wow!” she said a few minutes later. “Wow. Oh.”

“What?” I said as I looked over the traffic trying to see what the hold-up was.

“There’s a video of it,” she said as her tongue slowly slid across her pearly white teeth as she does whenever she’s turned on.


“And there’s three guys cumming on her.”

“You like that?”

“Oh yeah. I like how they grip their cocks and stroke them until they cum.”

I could see that this was leading to no good.

I was right. She pulled down her jeans and jilled it again! She was fingering her wet pussy as the cars were jammed up next to us, in front of us, behind us. It wasn’t even 9 a.m. and there she was, getting off in the passenger seat of my car. Luckily for her there was enough traffic for her to cum yet again that morning before I dropped her off for work.

[Excerpt from the story, “No, Lo, You’re Not a Nymphomaniac,” from the blog:]

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Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail:

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