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Lo was wearing her little “jackpot-top” and tight, sexy jeans, her black leather boots and her black leather jacket. She looked so good I could have pulled the car over and took her down a dark alley to make a proper bad-girl out of her, but I resisted. She was in an unusually jovial mood and prattled on the entire car ride out to the burbs to attend our friend’s birthday banquet.

When we got there we were greeted by the usual couples and acquaintances. It’s funny how our suburban friends tend to present as straight vanilla, while our city friends (mostly Lo’s connections) are almost all queer in some way or another.

After a few beers, some chili, chips, and other buffet items, both Lo and I were comfortably consoling our dear friend, Dr. Smith. He was a professor pal of mine from way back and recently he had gone through a rough divorce — his wife running away with their daughter’s gymnastics teacher. He was having a hard time of it. Both Lo and I lent compassionate ears to his tale of woe. We offered advice and we invited him over for a night on the town where we would introduce him to a fun set of our friends. To that offer, he did a double take and looked at Lo quizzically.

“Your friends?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, “it would be fun.”

“You mean people of your age?”

“Some even younger,” said Lo with charm and allusion.

“Lo, you realize, don’t you, that I’m old enough to be your father.”

Lo squirmed a bit in her chair and said, “Yeah,” licking her lips, “that’s kind of kinky.”

I immediately — before I had even comprehended the words — felt a bolt of jealousy shoot through me from my genitals up my spine to my brain, like one of those sliding pucks on the carnival game that fly up when you hit the lever and they ring the bell. Lo had rung my bell and I could feel my face growing flush.

On the way home I noticed Lo staring out her window. “What you thinking about?”

“Wha? Nothing.”

“Lo.”

“Nothing, really.”

“You thinking about Smith?”

“How did you know?”

“Your cranium might as well be made of clear glass and your thoughts neon lights.”

“Shut up!” She turned away.

“You saw his long cock protruding through his jeans.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw you staring at it and licking your lips. Sheesh!”

“Oh!”

“That’s right.”

“Do you think he noticed?”

“Probably.”

“I also saw you place your hand on his knee while you were telling him how much you feel for him.”

“Oh, so you saw that?”

“Of course I saw that. That’s when your eyes looked down at his cock and it was definitely getting hard.”

“You were looking?!”

“Yes.”

“And you saw that too?!”

“So you did see it. You did it on purpose.”

“Guilty as charged.” There was a pause. “I also rubbed his arm.”

“I didn’t see that.”

“He’s pretty strong,” she said in that twitterpated tone of hers.

“You’re bad, Lo, you’re very bad.”

“Are you mad, Daddy?”

“Daddy?! You dare say that after what you said to him?”

“You are mad.” She was overjoyed at the prospect.

I let out a “Hrrrrumph” and drove home in silence.

Of course she tried to cajole me with “Oh, Daddio,” and rubbing my leg to my crotch and so forth. But I was quite upset. “Daddy” is her pet word for me and I am the only one for whom that should be “kinky” with her. That was a line crossed. And she knows it. Yes, she can go fuck other men and women — that’s fine by me — but calling anyone else “Daddy” or even suggesting it; not acceptable.

We got home and into bed. She caressed me, she kissed me, she called me “Daddy” with breathy whispers. Finally I said to her, “Do you like him?”

“Who, Daddio?” She was playing dumb.

“Smith.”

“Eww!” she said.

“What?”

“He is so unattractive.”

“Well, he finds you attractive. He said some very sweet things tonight about you.”

“Like what?” she asked.

I told her that when he and I were alone, when Lo went to the loo for a few moments, his eyes followed her out of the room and then he looked at me and said, “For such a young woman, she really. . . ,” he fumbled for the words, “carries herself well.” I asked him what he meant. He went on to explain, trying to dig himself out of an obvious comment about her looks by saying how mature and “experienced” she is.

“Do you think he’s fantasizing about me, Daddy?” asked Lola after hearing that.

“I’m sure of it,” I said.

“Do you think he’s jackin’ it to me right now?” Her hand was between her legs at this point.

“Mmm hmmm,” I hummed affirmatively.

She was getting more and more wet.

“You want to take care of him?” I asked. Now I was growing hard and after observing my sweet little Lo all night prancing around “carrying herself so well,” I wanted her quite desperately. I got up and made my way between her legs.

“Noooo,” she said in answer to my question. “Yesss,” she said in response to my entering her puss.

“I’m sure he’s quite hard up,” I said, feeling her gush with the thought of it.

“Please, Daddio, he is not my type. He’s losing his hair,” she said as if that settled it.

“Lo,” I whispered in her ear, “he has a big cock — you and I both saw it — and that is your type.”

There was no response to this, just the movement of her hips.

“You’re attracted, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Well. . . ,” she began, “I do like the idea of pleasing a man who is hard up.” I felt her squirt. “But I don’t want him,” she added, contrary to the clear meaning her body was telling me.

“You sure of that? You sure you don’t want to wrap your lips around his cock?”

“He has a very big cock, Daddy.”

“How do you know?”

“I could feel it.”

“What do you mean, you could feel it?”

“When you went to get more food, he and I were sitting and he dropped his napkin. I bent over to pick it up, slowly so he could see down my blouse, and when I placed it back on his lap, saying ‘You keep that there this time,’ I felt him with my hand.”

“You bad girl.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“So you want him. You want to relieve all that tension for him?”

“Noooo.”

Again, she squirted.

“Yes you do. You want him to come over here, to sleep over. You want to sneak into his room and put your lips on his cock and show him what you can do.”

She was cumming now. I could feel how she was cumming. Her cunt tightened up so hard and tight she almost pushed me right out of her. I had to fight to stay in.

“You bad bad girl.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Then Lo slid under the covers and wrapped her lips around my cock just the way I had described and she sucked on me. Who knows what she was fantasizing about.

As she worked on me I said, “You know, I’d like to tell him about you. I’d like to tell him that you’re a sex-crazed nymphomaniac. I’d like to tell him how often you take care of yourself and how. I’d like to tell him that you’re a little slut who sleeps around with. . .”

That was it. I came deep in the back of her throat. After she had gotten her fill of me, she slid up to her place under my arm and said, “Daddio, I love you, but I’m so full of pity for guys like Smith. I just want to make them all feel as good as I make you feel. Please don’t be mad at me for that.”

“Lo, I’m not mad at you for that,” I said. “You just make sure you know who your Daddy is. Got it?

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

[From the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]

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Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail: downloladown@gmail.com

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