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“I don’t suppose you feel like doing something?” asked Lo. “It’s the last night we’ll both have free for a while.”

“Oh, no,” I answered, “that’s the last thing I feel like doing.”

“What is?”

“Something.”

“Come on,” she said plaintively.

“What do you want?” I asked, feigning naiveté.

“I want to have fun.”

“Where do you want to go, an amusement park?”

“Yeah, I want to go on a wild ride!” She scootched closer to me on the couch and put her hands between my legs. “You up for it?”

“How about we just watch a movie?”

“Do you realize. . . do you know. . . do you fathom just how many guys — and gals! — on this planet would die to have me grab them between their legs and ask if they’re up for it? Do you?”

“Lo. . .” I stammered.

“Just the other day a fan wrote to me and said that my body is a piece of art!”

“Expressionist, no doubt.”

“Erotic.”

“Pornographic.”

“I’m not a bad girl, you just write me that way.”

“Oh, stealing from Jessica Rabbit?”

“You like?” she asked, boosting up her bust, imitating the animated femme fatale.

“And you say you’re not a bad girl.”

“I’m a very good girl considering how very bad my inclinations are.”

“How about we just watch a movie tonight?”

“You’re too young to be so old.”

“I’m old enough to know I’m not young anymore.”

“Age is all in your head.”

“Well, the grey hairs on my head prove you wrong.”

“Fine, ole man,” she said, rubbing her hand through my hair, “we can watch a movie. Pick something.”

I made a few futile choices — all met with resounding vetoes from Lo.

“You said I could choose, but nothing I choose earns your approval.”

“Can’t I voice my thoughts?”

“Sure, as long as they’re in 100% agreement with mine.”

“You keep suggesting ‘C’ movies that are just soft-core porn,” she said. “I can watch the highlights of them on the internet and get off to it in five minutes instead of wasting two hours on it. I want to watch an actual decent movie or an actual decent porno and fuck. You pick.”

“How about the actual decent porno and you can pick?”

“And fuck?”

“Wel’ll see.”

“Fine,” she said, “but let’s do it in the bedroom.” She got up from the couch and took her phone. I followed. She slowly stripped and then lay on her tum, feet dangling up in the air — if she were a puppy dog, that would be her tail wagging with happiness — as she flipped in her phone from porn page to porn page, looking for just the right thing.

I got out of my clothes and took my place behind her, looking over her shoulder at the little screen. When she finally found what she wanted — two women enjoying each other — I tried to move into position. With my very hard and erect phallus, I inched up from behind her. To my surprise, she pushed me away — rebuffing me with the words, “No, not yet. I want my Hitachi.”

The video still playing on the pillow in front of her, she slid like a reptile to the side of the bed, and then, bending at the waist, her torso went down the side of the bed and she fumbled with her hands underneath the bed, until finally, triumphantly, she pulled out the enormous white contraption like it was a trophy! She laid it on the bed and then dove down again, fumbling to plug it in to the extension cord next to the bed. It began to hum. She turned over, on her back now, spread her legs and put the large white vibrating sphere gently on her puss.

She held the phone with her left hand, her head turned towards it as she held the large Magic Wand with her right, hovering in circles around her clit. I tried to become part of the pleasure. She rebuffed me a second time.

“What? Jealous?” she asked.

“Yeah, of an inanimate object.”

“It’s hardly inanimate,” she said, trying to provoke me.

She lay there a while, looking at her phone, rubbing her puss with her oversized, upside-down, white snow cone, until, dropping her phone and putting both hands on the handle, clicking up to ‘high power,’ she said, “Watch out! I’m gonna. . .” and then she ejaculated uncontrollably.

“That was better than any movie,” I remarked when she was done.

[Excerpt from the story, “Home Entertainment,” 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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