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“It’s worse than wham-bam-thank you ma’am. It’s wham-bam-goodnight ma’am,” Lo said as I drifted off to sleep Wednesday night. She had much more than one orgasm in her, but I was down for the count.

The next night, she and I found ourselves on the couch watching TV yet again. This time we were watching a gangster movie. I was sipping my whiskey and I said, “Oh, my legs are killing me today.”

“You need to hydrate,” said Lo — her familiar refrain.

“Lo, I am hydrating,” I said as I lifted the tumbler to my lips.

“Your legs hurt because all you drink is alcohol and coffee,” she tried for the ʼenth time to explain to me.

“Darling, this is nature’s Novocain,” I said, taking another sip with a smile on my face.

As we watched the movie, one of the characters called the other a “cocksucker.” The crude banter went back and forth. Again, without warning, Lo shut off the TV and grabbed me by the arm. “Come on, old man,” she said.

“What now?”

“Let’s just say I’ve got a hankering for cock.”

“Seriously Lo?! The power of suggestion is that strong with you?”

“No,” she said, “the power my puss is that strong.”

We got into the bedroom and she pulled off her clothes till she was naked next to the bed. Then she crawled under the cool covers and cuddled her soft flesh next to me.

“I like your lips,” I whispered to her.

“Which lips, Daddy?”

“Your lower lips,” I said, reaching down between her legs.

“Why?” she asked. She never can just take a compliment. She always asks why.

“Cause they’re always smiling at me,” I said.

“That’s the creepiest thing you’ve ever said to me!” she shrieked as her head dove under the covers to take me in her mouth.

When she came back up from fellatio, she said, “Fuck me now, Daddio.”

“How do you want it?” I asked like a gentleman.

“My legs are spread. My pussy’s wet. Give it to me missionary.”

I got between her legs and said, “You, you hungry little cunt.”

“Daddy! You’re so nasty.”

“That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not!”



She was denying it, but she came and came hard and fast.

When we were both done she said, “Why did you say that?”


“Calling me that name.”

“Lo, I’ve said much worse to you — usually at your insistence.”

“But that — that was nasty. That’s not what you think, is it?”

“No, of course not. But why does it bother you?”

“Because. . .” She had no words.

“Well, you came.”

“Despite it, not because of it.”

“I love you Lo, and if you prefer I call you a dirty-little-cum-bucket, a whore, a slut, a nympho-cock-hungry-strumpet, then that’s what I’ll do.”

“Oh, Daddio, now you’re getting me all riled up again.”

[From the blog:]

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

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