I sat on one end of the couch with my book open, reading glasses on, and even a highlighter in hand. Lo sauntered into the room wearing her usual after-work-attire: a tank top with nothing else under it. She sat down next to me. “You want to watch Orange is the New Black?”
After I finished reading the sentence I had begun, I replied, “No, I don’t want to watch Orange is the New Black. I told you, I gave it a chance and I’m good. Thanks.” A few weeks ago, with all the hype, Lo and I tried watching the first few episodes. I found it irksome and unpleasant and they lost me at the micturition on the floor scene. Lo, on the other hand, continued going and has raved about how each episode gets better and better.
I put my nose back in my book. She pulled out her laptop and put on her headphones to watch an episode. I tried to sit next to her, but as she watched, she was repeatedly stroking herself between the legs.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Daddio?” she said, looking up at me, speaking unnecessarily loudly, and pulling her headphones off.
“I’m going to bed, I said.”
“You’re too distracting.”
“You like it?”
“I’m going to finish reading this chapter and I’m going to sleep cause I’m tired. Please don’t disturb me when you come to bed. I have to be up early.”
I finished my chapter and I fell asleep. Pleasantly asleep.
The next thing I know, I feel Lo slithering her soft naked body up against mine, her hand reaching around my fetal-positioned body, grabbing my slumbering cock and whispering in my ear, “Daddy, are you awake?”
I ignore her hoping that I will fall back to sleep.
She persists. “Daddy, don’t you want to hear about how bad of a girl I am?”
I don’t answer.
She whispers, “I was watching Orange and there was a scene where one of the women snuck in a phone. She was taking pictures of her pussy and sending them to her boyfriend who was tacking pics of his cock. They were masturbating to each other. Isn’t that hot?”
I still have hopes for sleep, but my disobedient dick has other hopes and Lo notices right away. “Daddio, you’re getting hard.”
I remain as still as the rest of my body could manage.
“I was jillin’ it as I watched them both masturbating. I got myself off and squirted on the leather couch. Don’t worry, I cleaned up.”
I try to feign sleep as best I can.
“When the episode was over,” she whispers, “I checked my e-mail. I got a nice note from a certain someone. Don’t you want to know who?”
I roll over, “Who?” I mutter.
“Oh, Daddy. I knew that would get you.”
I feel defeated. She always wins. “Who?” I ask again with irritation.
“Zach wrote to me. He said he’ll be in town this weekend.”
“What did you say?”
“Oh, I didn’t write to him yet, but I’m open on Saturday — wide open,” she says seductively.
[Excerpt from the story, “October is the New Orange,” from the blog: mysexlifewithlola.com]