Tight Quarters
Lest you think that all presents were mine for the giving and hers for the taking, Lo surprised me by planning a lovely ski weekend for us. A friend of hers, Kate, has a boyfriend, David, whose parents own a ski cottage up in the north country. Kate and David invited us to join them for a weekend up there. After Lo told me about this and how she intended to pay for the ski rental and lift tickets for us, she said, “But there’s one little catch.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it’s not just the four of us.”
“Oh?”
“David also invited three of his college buddies to join.”
“OK.”
“And. . .”
“Out with it, Lo.”
“Well, it’s not that big of a cottage. It’s only two bedrooms and a living room.”
“So. . . ?”
“So, we either have to sleep in the living room or in the second bedroom. But the second bedroom has a bunk bed and a twin with a trundle bed attached.”
“And what’s the problem?”
“Well, it will be a little crowded, is all.”
“So, you’re saying we either have to sleep in the living room or with three other guys in the second bedroom.”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like you had this pretty well planned out.”
She gave me a look that admitted her guilt, but her words were full of denial. “I swear, Daddy, I have no idea what these guys look like. I’ve never met them before.”
“You don’t know their names?”
“Well, I do know who they are. Kate told me.”
“And you didn’t look them up on Facebook?”
“Well. . .”
“And they’re cute?”
“Two of them are. The third is a real geek.”
“You like geeks. Especially awkward, nerdy geeks.”
She looked down at the ground. “Can we go, still, Daddy?”
“Of course we can, but you are a naughty, naughty girl.”
“Punish me!” she said with a big smile, turning, bending over, and pushing out her bum to be spanked.
“Oh, I will. I will,” I said as I gently tapped her bottom.
“Daddy, you can do better than that.”
“Later, Lo. Later.”
It was a beautiful winter morning and we got on the road early. Though Lo and I now live together, I think we both feel closest and that we bond most while on road trips. Our venture to the north would only be a three hour trip, but somehow Lo got the map on her phone all confused and we ended up going about an hour out of our way. No matter, we were having good conversation and the little towns and hamlets we passed through along the back roads were charming enough.
Of course, as we entered into the windy, one lane highway through the foothills and mountains, that’s when Lo decides that she absolutely must have me in her mouth. She unzips my fly and pulls me out, leans over and takes me — dangers and death be damned! There were a few near misses with oncoming cars and close calls with the guard rails, but she saw things through to a very satisfactory conclusion.
We arrived a bit passed lunch time — over two hours later than planned — and so too late to go skiing that day. We were introduced to the three friends of David and Kate: Tim, Stuart, and Chet. As we found out over the weekend, they all share a suite together with David at college and all three of them are single, though Tim was desperately trying all weekend to make things connect with a girl from school. A little background: Lo knew Kate through her previous job and Kate and Lo are the same age, but David, Tim, Stuart, and Chet were all still seniors in college. Though Kate and Lo get along fine, Kate is from a born again Evangelist family and clearly does not share many of Lo’s irreverent views and behaviors. David, however, seemed much more laidback and “edgy,” at least compared to his girlfriend. In fact, it seemed as if Kate was attracted to him because he pushed her envelope.
David was engaging, gregarious, funny, and attractive. He was a good 6” tall and muscular. Tim, Stuart, and Chet, by comparison, seemed diminutive both in stature and in their maturity and depth of personality. It seemed as if all they did was sit around and drink beer while playing video games. They had little to say and barely expressed acknowledgement when they saw the case of beer and handle of whiskey I brought up for the weekend.
They followed David around like three interchangeable, indistinguishable characters who make a single unit: the three. They reminded me of the often amorphous characters form a Kafka novel, like the two assistants in The Castle. They only seemed vaguely aware that Lo and Kate were female — as if they themselves were non-sexual in nature — let alone, that the ladies (or I, for that matter) existed.
When Lo and I got there, we were famished. Lo immediately took charge in the kitchen, whipping up her incomparable chili. Unfortunately, the aroma fills the room long before the food is ready to serve, so I had to satisfy my hunger by noshing on cheese and crackers and beer. We all hung out in the cozy cottage watching some TV, playing cards, and I was reading a novel, till dinner was finally ready.
When we sat down to eat at a small table in the open-plan kitchen-dining room-living room space, I noticed the large 4’x6’ mirror on the wall behind the table. Making light conversation, I asked if it was a one-way window and if someone was spying on us, making sure no one does anything inappropriate there (since it was usually used as a rental cabin).
Kate laughed and said, “Oh, you have no idea what stuff people have been up to in here!” When I inquired for her to elaborate, she suddenly became too shy to go on and looked to David for the explanation. David proceeded to tell us that usually, around Thanksgiving, his family all congregates in the cottage along with friends. Everyone sleeps over, sprawled out wherever they can find a spot — beds, couches, floors, even closets. Last year, he proceeded to say, with about 25 or so people all vying for sleeping space after the Thanksgiving meal, one of his brother’s friends who was invited up, tried to “get it on” with his girlfriend, right there on the living room floor. When others told them to stop, they continued “and she wasn’t quiet.”
I looked over at Lo who was putting on an award winning performance of looking aghast at such behavior.
Apparently the impolite couple copulated till climax before things settled down. “Needless to say,” continued David, “they were never invited back.”
After dinner we all watched one of Lo’s favorite films of the holiday season, Love Actually, during which we made a drinking game out of it such that every time someone in the film says either “love” or “actually” we all have to drink. The three boys were on the floor, scattered about the room. Kate and David were on the longer section of the sectional and Lo and I were snuggled under a blanket on the small part of the “L.” Lo had changed into her pj’s and during the movie she was unwittingly touching herself — a habit she has with any visual stimulation. The movie was fun — especially hearing all the talk-back comments the boys had to make for this “chick-flick” and then we decided to retire early in order to get up early for a full day of skiing on the morrow.
The sleeping arrangements were interesting, to say the least. Because no one wanted to be left in the open, “public,” space of the living room, Dave and Kate got the master bedroom and the three boys, Lo and I got the spare room: two boys on the twin/trundle, one above us in the bunk bed, and Lo and me squished together on the bottom bunk.
Lo allowed all the boys to brush and get ready for bed first, then I, and then she went into the bathroom and, after the lights were all out, she emerged in the bedroom wearing only her man-beater and panties. She quickly slipped under the covers next to me and whispered in my ear, “Daddy, I’m so horny.” As she did so, she moved my left hand down between her legs. I could feel how horny she was — dripping right through her panties — and I did my best to surreptitiously finger her. Unfortunately, the bunk was made out of rickety old metal and squeaked with the slightest movement. I had to slow down my strokes to a snail’s pace and ever-so-gently go back and forth over her lips or in and out of her puss. She contracted her legs together in a delightful anguish of pleasure and desire. When I stopped moving my hand, unsure of whether she wanted me to stop or continue, she grabbed my wrist and began using it like was her personal toy.
She guided me that way for a few more minutes before a sudden rush of liquid spilled over my fingers accompanied by her a muted moan.
A few moments of stillness — listening for anyone who may be listening — and she whispered to me, her lips right up against my ear, “Fuck me.”
I whispered back, “Lo, I can’t. This thing is like an amplifier.”
“Do it, Daddy — slowly.”
I carefully maneuvered my body in between her legs — causing the confounded contraption to creak and squeak (the bed, not Lo) — and I slid inside her well lubricated sheath. But there I stayed, still or almost still, for half an hour as she eased her hips in such a way as to rub her G-spot up against the tip of my cock. Wave, after wave of orgasm flowed through her till I, still hard as a rock, pulled out as slowly as I went in.
As I lay there, powerfully stiff, her hand found its way to my cock and she began to rub it.
“Do you want me to blow you, Daddy?”
“No, Lo. Just sleep.”
“A hand job?”
“Sleep, Lo.”
“But Daddy, you’re so hard.”
“I’ll live with it,” I said as I held her closely.
She fell into a delightful slumber as I spent most of the night dreaming about her beautiful naked body surrounded by four men hard-up.
[Excerpt from the story, “Dangerous Curves,” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]
