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It was Friday night and Lo and I were at a fundraising event at our city’s art museum. It was a lovely affair and the only thing that gets Lo and me more riled up than art museums is art museums at night, with alcohol and lots of good looking people dressed to impress.

In my humble opinion, Lo was the most impressively dressed. She was all dolled up in her heels, slinky skin-tight blue dress showing a lot of leg and cleavage, and her long hair framing her alluring face. We were in the courtyard of the museum and a classical string quartet was playing. I looked up at the sky and said to Lo, “I’m worried about the weather.”

“What about it?”

“I’m afraid it’s going to rain. I don’t want you to get wet.”

“Too late for that. I know what I’m going to do when we get home.”

“Oh boy.”

“Hopefully many boys!”

“Oh, I thought you were talking about me.”

“You and some other eye-candy I see tonight.”

“Like a little girl in a candy-shop, are you?”

She bit her lip and said, “Do you have anything for me to suck on, Daddy?”

“Lo, wait till we get home, ok?”

We were drinking champagne and then I noticed the perfect complement for it. “Look, Lo, a cupcake bar! Let’s get some.”

“You’re really undoing all of my effort.”

“Undoing what effort?”

“My diet. Losing weight.”

“You have to feed your soul. Soul, being immaterial, never gains weight, but it can starve.”

“My soul is starving — starving for your attention. Let’s forego the cupcakes and find a coat closet and get right to the main course.”

We mingled and drank a bit more, but the weather was ominous. Finally I convinced Lo that we should get going.

We picked up the car from the valet, but once we were in, Lo suggested going to a club.

“Lo, it’s already ten o’clock.”

Already?! Are you kidding me? As if that’s late. The night is young and so am I.”

“Well, young’un, I’m not and I’m tired. You can drop me off at home and have your night on the town.”

“Well,” she said, “at least tell me I’m going to get laid tonight.”


“Oh no, I’m getting fucked tonight, preferably by you.”


“If you don’t plan on doing me tonight, then I’m making calls and I’ll find someone who will.”

“Is that the origin of the term ‘call girl’? I’ve had it backwards all these years!”

“Shut up and feel my puss! Feel how wet it is?” she asked as she pulled my hand up her dress to her crotch where I discovered the reason for why her dress looked as smooth as skin on her — no panties!

“That’s it, Daddio.”

I began to caress her and she put the seat back to allow me easier access. Suddenly a car jumped out in front of us from a side road. I swerved. She sat up.

“Watch it!” she yelled at me.

“Do you want me to drive carefully or to finger you?”

“Oh yeah. . . Well, I guess I don’t really need you,” she said as she began fingering herself.

This was almost as distracting for me as my doing it for her. She came. She came again. We pulled in the driveway. I went to open the door.

“Not so fast, Daddio.”

“We’re home.”

“But we don’t have to go in right away. How about you kiss me? You know, I’ve gotten more tongue from a dog than I have from you in the past month.”

“Didn’t I get on my knees and lick your pussy all morning after your shower before we went out tonight?”

“That’s my cunt. I’m talking about tongue-to-tongue.”

“With a dirty mouth like that, is it any surprise?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

I kissed her. She pulled my hand down to her dripping pussy.

“It’s never just romance with you?” I asked.

“It’s all romance with me. My definition of romance is very wide, very deep, and fits a lot into it.”

“Are we discussing romance or. . .”

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.”

I followed orders. She again pressed my fingers down on her clit. She rubbed them around the way she wanted to be stroked. “I said, keep kissing me. That didn’t mean to stop fingering me.”

“How about we take this inside?”

“OK, pull down your pants.”

“Not inside you! I meant let’s go in the house.”

“Oh, right.”

As we were walking into our building, there was a flash of lighting and a crackle of thunder — loud and very soon after the lightning. Big, heavy rain drops began to fall, one-by-one at first. Within moments of getting inside, it was a heavy and steady downpour. “Let’s start this storm off right,” said Lo as she grabbed me, pushed me up against the wall, took my hands and placed them on her breasts. I kissed her on her open mouth. It was hot.

We walked to the bedroom. I got naked and into bed. Lo went into the bathroom saying, “I just have to take off my makeup.”

I guess I was more tired than I thought. Within seconds I fell into a deep and heavy sleep. I awoke to a naked Lo between my legs with my cock filling her mouth.

“Lo, I think I’m too tired,” I said, fearing her wrath.

She pulled her face up enough to say, “That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not.”

“Let’s see what the Truth Stick says.” She grabbed my hard cock. “The Truth Stick says otherwise.”

“I should beat you with my Truth Stick!”

“Yes! That’s all I want!”

She climbed on my erection and slid her warm puss down it, straddling me.

But, no matter what the Truth Stick said, I kept on nodding off to sleep. I don’t know if she came or if she merely got turned off by the lack of attention, but at some point she climbed down from her pole and sat next to me in bed. She pulled out her Hitachi and placed it between her legs. Looking over at me next to her with disdain, as she massaged herself, she said, “Brian, my special friend at work, said he’s really eager to work with me. He told me today that whenever and wherever I need him, I should just say the word and he’ll be there. I’m thinking about him right now. I’m thinking about his big, strong arms. I’m thinking about his broad shoulders. His huge bulge in his pants. I’m thinking about what sorts of things I might ask him to do for me.”

I know she was just trying to make me jealous and simultaneously rile me up to giving her a good hard pounding — plumbing her depths with my Truth Stick — and I was flattered, but unable to give her what she wanted. As I heard her climax alone next to me the lyrics of a song wafted through my mind as I gently withdrew to dreamland:

She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she cums just like a little whore.

[From the blog:]

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

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