“Are you about to cum?” she asked.
“No,” I panted.
“No, I swear, I’m good.”
“Don’t stop. I’m about to cum. Whatever you do, don’t stop!”
I kept thrusting and she called out, “Don’t cum. You better fucking not cum!”
The more she worried about it, the further from cumming she got. The more she scolded me, the closer I got until. . . it was too late.
“Fuck! Fuck you! Fuck!” she screamed in anger. “I was so fucking close.” Have I mentioned that when Lo is angry she resorts to her favorite word in the English language?
“I’m sorry. Don’t tell me to not cum next time.”
“Grrrrrr,” she growled as she fell onto her pillow.
“You know what?” I asked.
“You just had sex with the oldest man you’ve ever had sex with.”
She thought about it for a bit and responded with, “Well, if you don’t get better at it, I might just have to find someone else who’s older and see how he does.”
I got up from the bed.
“Where are you going?” she asked, immediately changing her demeanor from frustrated disappointment to the look of a dog being leashed to a tree as its master goes into the store.
“I’m going to brush my teeth, make my coffee, and read the Sunday paper.”
“Noooooo,” she said just like a dog howling for its master.
She frowned and lay down — a puppy that had all its hopes dashed when the door closed and she wasn’t invited to go for a walk.
I got my coffee, got my paper, sat down and began going through the pleasurable task of digesting the week’s news. After an hour or so, I was hungry for breakfast and, as is our routine on weekends and other days that we don’t have to rush out of the house, I was going to inquire of Sleeping Beauty what she would like me to make her for breakfast. I opened the bedroom door without giving it a second thought and when I did I found my little oversexed trollop under the covers — one hand sliding up and down between her legs and the other holding her phone. She quickly slammed the phone down into the bed and looked at me shame-faced.
“I’m sorry, darling, was I interrupting something?”
“No,” she said with a blush, “I just finished.”
She nodded, yes.
“How many times?”
“Just one, Daddy. Are you mad?”
She always asks if I’m mad, but by now she must know that I’ll never be mad about that. It is such a turn-on for me to know that she fucks herself on a regular basis — uncontrollably. But I think she wants to be in trouble, so I said, “Oh yes.”
“What’s my punishment?” she asked enthusiastically.
I took off my clothes and got in bed next to her and felt between her legs. “Lo, you were very bad.”
“I know, Daddy.”
I began kissing her. I couldn’t think of a punishment when I just wanted her lips so very badly. I kissed her and felt her body in my large hands and drew her close to me.
I got between her very wet legs and slid in as she moaned with delight. Now that I had cum once that morning, I was good to go for a long, long time. She came two more times in that missionary position before I turned her over and started going at her from behind. She came a third, climactic, time — more violently than all the other four times that morning put together.
I was still hard and she was still fantastically wet and so I continued to pound her as she turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Daddy?”
“I was bad.”
“I know you were.”
“No Daddy,” she said in between moans and deep breaths, “I did something else.”
“What’s that Lo?”
“I took out an ad.”
“I took out another Craigslist ad. When you weren’t having me, I got restless. I’m sorry.”
My thrusts and speed intensified.
“What did it say?”
“It said that I was looking to be shared.”
“And I got over a hundred responses.”
“And there’s about five that I liked.”
“That’s it, Daddy.”
“Tell me about the five.”
“You’re going to be very, very mad at me.”
“Four of them are big black men with sculpted muscles, like football players, and giant cocks. One of them is a blond whose body looks like a young Bruce Springsteen in his ripped jeans. The jeans are ripped below the pocket and I can see his incredibly long cock hanging down.”
As she said these words she came again, squirting all over me, my legs, the bed — everywhere.
She was out of breath and unable to speak or move as she fell forward, sliding off my dick. I flipped her listless body over onto her back and I grabbed my cock and looked at her beautiful tum thinking about all the guys who have fucked her and how lucky all of us are. I came in long, powerful spurts shooting up to her chin, chest, and lovely tum as I called out profanities before finally falling to my side as if I had been shot.
As I remained in my own listless state, she got up.
“Where are you going?” I managed to ask.
“I’m taking a shower — look at the dirty mess you made of me!”
“I came in here to ask you what you wanted for breakfast.”
“Pancakes,” she said with a big smile, “but don’t start making them too soon.”
“Oh, I’m not near done yet,” she said, implying that she was going to do more than just wash off in the shower.
As I lay on the bed looking at her phone and seeing the pictures of the various guys that she was looking at while she jilled it in bed, I heard her cum from the midst of the steamy bathroom. I figured she’d be out soon, so I got up and went to the kitchen to begin making the pancake mix. To my surprise, I heard her cum a second, very vocal, time.
When she finally appeared in the kitchen, I looked at her. She averted my eyes, looking down at the floor. “Lo?”
“I’m horny. What do you want? You neglected me for so long and now I have all those unused orgasms stored up and waiting to get out!”
“Lo, I was just going to ask if you wanted juice.”
“Oh,” she said a little embarrassed, “yes please.”
[Excerpt from the story, “Birthday Sex: You’re Forgiven, Now Fuck Me!” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]