It was Thanksgiving weekend and we had been invited to a family-friend’s house in Miami for the occasion. Our host’s apartment was in one of the tall high-rise buildings downtown and was not nearly large enough to accommodate all the guests overnight, so Lo and I got a hotel room close by. Being from up north, it took a lot of getting used to Thanksgiving without the brilliant foliage hues of warm oranges, deep reds, and brilliant yellows. Rather, seeing palm trees, blue skies, and beaches made this weekend feel like any other vacation weekend.
We had arrived on Wednesday, the most highly traveled day of the year in America, but despite my travel anxiety, the trip went off without a hitch. We got settled in our hotel early that day and then made our way down to Miami Beach where Lo slipped into her skimpy little bikini and we quickly made the transition from trudging through ankle high snow to gliding through soft golden sand and refreshing surf. My staying out of Lo’s crosshairs was next to impossible on this beach because no matter where I turned there was another scantily clad sexy woman walking, lying in the sun, swimming, playing volleyball, or applying sunscreen. Each time I looked up, I was in trouble with her.
Finally I said to her, “What do you want me to do, put blinders on?”
To my great surprise she smiled and said, “I’m just kidding. Look all you want. Go on the BP.” BP is our code word for “Butt Patrol.”
“What? Wait. Say that again. I think I have an inner ear infection. I thought you said, ‘Look all you want’.”
“That’s what I said. You’re not hearing things. There are too many beautiful women on this beach for me to be jealous of all of them.”
Well, this was certainly a change. At first it was a welcome change, but within mere moments of it setting in I became very disconcerted. Does this mean she doesn’t love me anymore? Has she lost interest? Is she less invested in me, my feelings, my love? A mini-crisis of faith descended over me and suddenly I lost all interest in any of the scenery.
We walked a little further in silence and then she added, “Also, I just feel fat.”
“Fat?!” I cried out. “Lo, you’re beautiful! Perfect! A goddess! A zaftig, sexy, siren.”
“Zaftig means fat,” she said flatly.
“No. Zaftig means pleasantly plump and juicy. You know that. That’s exactly what you are, you little squirt.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer her or her or her?” she asked, pointing at different stick-skinny blondes on the beach.
“If I did, I would be with her, her, or her.”
“Then why don’t you go with them?”
“Now you’re just fishing for more compliments.”
“No,” she said, “I’m serious.”
“Because I love you. I want you. I find you attractive. And so do a lot of other people, I might add.”
Her hand reached out to hold mine and we walked a little further, but the sun was beating down and it was soon far too hot to be out there in the direct light of noon.
We headed toward Ocean Boulevard and I thought we were looking for a cool — literally cool — place to have lunch, but Lo, of course, had other ideas. We had passed a strip club on the way to the beach and apparently she took mental note. She directed us right there and we ducked in to get out of the heat and into the steamy striptease. But, little did we know, Miami isn’t like New York or D.C. where they have performances all day, all night. No one was dancing. It was just another dive bar.
The bearded bartender asked what we’d have and Lo said, “I came here to have a show. Where are the dancers?”
“Oh, they don’t come on until eight or nine,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Fine, then make me a margarita and make it strong,” she demanded, visibly disappointed.
“I’ll have a piña colada,” I said.
Lo was sitting with her elbows on the bar, her biceps boosting up her boobs in her bikini top. The bartender obviously enjoyed the view. He made conversation with her, almost ignoring me.
“Sorry the ladies aren’t on now,” he said. “But I know a few who’d like to put on a show for you,” he added. “And I’d like to see that.”
He asked us where we were from and so forth. Lo was flirting with him and rubbing my leg with her foot, but he couldn’t see that. Did she want him?
We each had our drink, cooled down and then, when we asked for the tab, the bartender said it was on the house. Lo smiled flirtatiously and I put down a healthy cash tip.
“What now?” I asked Lo, to see where her whims would take her.
“Let’s just fuck,” she said.
We went straight back to the hotel and Lo stripped out of what little she was wearing.
She looked pleasantly plump and juicy and I told her so.
“Show me how bad you want me,” she said.
I pulled down my bathing suit and revealed my incredibly rigid cock pointing right at her.
“Mmmmmm, good,” she replied, lying back on the bed.
I climbed on the bed and lifted her legs in the air. She had crossed her legs doing a little stripper move and I entered her as I held her up by her ankles. She moaned. Then I took her beautiful, soft feet, one in each hand, and gently rubbed her soles on my cheeks as I looked down at her, fondling her nipples. She held my head between her feet and I grabbed her hips.
“I want to fuck your round rump,” I said. I slid my hands up the sides of her body to her tum and grabbed a handful of her flesh. I held her by her doughy roll and I loved it. “You know,” I said, “I find this part of you even more sexy than your tits.”
“Now you’re just making me feel self-conscious and fat,” she said.
“I love it,” I said to her.
“I don’t,” she said to me.
“Turn over,” I instructed. She complied.
I began going at her from behind as I smacked her lovely ass cheeks with my hands. She backed into me, ramming my pole deep into her. I could feel her intensity growing. And then she said, “Do you like my ass, Daddy?”
“Love it.”
“Do you like my fat ass?”
She was trying to get me to cum.
“Yes.”
“You like your fat little girl?” she asked seductively.
“I love my fat little girl.”
“Don’t you want to cum all over my fat, fat ass?” she asked and hearing her say that was enough. I gave her one last thrust before pulling out, and grabbing my cock and ejaculating all over her ass and back, shooting occasionally all the way up to her shoulder blades. Simultaneously, she began to squirt down on the bed.
“Pleasantly plump. Very juicy,” I said.
I removed the covers from the bed. We didn’t need them anyway. It was warm enough without them. After I cleaned us both up, we snuggled — big spoon/little spoon. My hands were around her and I was holding her breast with one hand and her tum with the other. But then I felt a warm liquid all over my lap.
“Did you just squirt again?” I asked her.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said simply before falling asleep.
Sometime later, we both woke from our nap. What had been a blindingly hot day, was now slowly slipping into a cool dusk. I got up and took a shower. Lo was still in bed. Then I sat at the little desk of the hotel room and took out my computer. I was preparing to post on the blog. Lo was watching TV.
“What are you watching?” I asked.
“The New Girl.”
“The Nude Girl?”
“No, The New Girl.”
“Oh, cause I was watching The Nude Girl,” I said.
“Who?” she asked, jealously.
“You,” I said, showing her the pics of her on my computer screen.
“Oh, well, you don’t have to look only at the pics, you can have the real thing,” she said, spreading her legs and rubbing her puss.
“Lo,” I said, “are you getting horny watching TV again?”
“When don’t I? Besides, Zooey Deschanel is such a MPDG.”
“A what?”
“You know, a Manic Pixie Dream Girl.”
“No. I don’t know. Explain.”
“A Manic Pixie Dream Girl is. . .” she was looking for the right words, “is Zooey Deschanel’s character on this show.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, not being familiar with the show, this Zooey woman, or the expression.
“There are these three guys on the show. They’re sad, they’re lonely, they’re single. They’re roommates. And then comes along Jess who moves in with them. She’s bubbly. She’s cheerful. She’s good-girl-American-girl-cute. And she’s just what they need. And they all want to fuck her, secretly or not so secretly. That’s what an MPDG is.”
“Oh, so in addition to a MILF you also yearn to be an MPDG.”
“Oh no,” said Lo, “I’m both.”
“Is that possible?”
“Not for most women, but I can pull it off.”
“Yeah, you pull it off alright — you pull off your sweater and your bra and suddenly you’re every man’s dream.”
“Watch it!” she warned. “I still remember how you called me fat.”
“Me,” I cried. “You’re the one who. . .”
“Don’t even,” she said. “You’ll piss me off and then you’ll have to butter me up.”
“OK,” I said, “if you lie naked, I’ll get a stick of butter.”
She threw a pillow at me and said, “As fun as that sounds — treating me like a butterball turkey — I want to go out on the town tonight.”
“Yeah, tonight and every other night.”
“It’s not every night that we are in Miami,” she said, getting out of bed.
“Where do you want to go? Another strip club?”
“No no,” she said. “I’ve got a few places in mind.”
“A few places?!” It was a good thing I got that long nap in, because usually I am not able to keep up with Lo’s nights out.
She slipped into her bathing suit and, because it was still too early for the club scene, we went up to the hotel’s rooftop pool. We got a couple of lounge chairs by the side that overlooks Ocean Blvd. and the beach, but we sat facing west to see the sunset.
An older couple sat next to us and the woman removed everything except her bikini bottom. She looked at me as her obviously surgically enhanced breasts ballooned almost into my face. “Is she trying to seduce me?” I thought and I saw Lo look sidelong at us both.
Lo and I got in the pool and I swam up to her and whispered, “Lo, that totally was not my fault. She sat down next to me. She was trying to impress me. I didn’t know what to do, so I just smiled politely.”
“It’s ok,” laughed Lo at all my excuses. “I know. Besides, she’s got nothing on me,” she said, removing her own bikini top and putting it on the side of the pool. She and I swam in the pool together as if we were one monstrous fish with four appendages. I loved being next to her bare torso in the pool with others looking on from the patio. Then she got out like a goddess and sat in the lounge chair and I went to the bar to order us drinks. I watched admiringly as others were staring at my little nymph.
I brought her drinks and we enjoyed an indescribably colorful sunset. I felt as if everything was perfect.
As the pool area emptied out, we went back to the hotel room. After Lo showered and slipped on a sexy dress and slid into some very sexy heels, we were out and about at one of the city’s dance clubs. I am no dancer, but I love watching Lo dance. I ordered my drink at the bar and watched as she danced and flirted with the city’s diverse beauties. I really think that Miami is perhaps the best looking city in the US.
As I sat and soaked in Lo’s form under the twirling lights, I thought of the Don Henley song, “All She Wants To Do Is Dance.” Yep, that’s Lo. All she wants to do is dance. . . and fuck. And this night it looked like she was doing both out on the dancefloor.
Around two in the morning, she finally came back to me, all sweaty, and said she was ready to go because even though she was having a great time, her feet were killing her.
On our way to the hotel in the back of the Lyft, she pulled out her phone and was looking at something that made her excited. She already had her shoes off, but as she looked at her phone, she put her bare foot on my lap and said, “Massage it, Daddy.” She lifted up her other foot and asked me to do the same to that one while her dress revealed her commando crotch. She used her feet to flirt with my manhood as the driver made small talk, but I could tell that she was way too intoxicated to know what she was doing. When we got to the hotel, as we were crossing the quiet lobby, she said to me, “Come to the bedroom and fuck me.”
“Lola, I’ll come to the bedroom, but I’m going to sleep. It’s a quarter-to-three in the morning.”
“No it’s not. It’s sex-o’clock. Time for me to cum in the bedroom.”
“In that case, I’m not going to the bedroom. I’ll stay right here on the couch in the lobby.”
“I can cum on the couch just as easily as in the bedroom. Even easier, because here I have an audience.”
Realizing the futility of my rebuke, I made sure she got to the hotel room without falling.
I went right to sleep, but at some ungodly hour I woke to find Lo on her phone travelling down dark electronic alleyways at night.
When I awoke in the morning, a flashback of the evening crossed my mind. Lo was sound asleep, naked, next to me. I grabbed her phone and scrolled through her history. Just as I suspected, a number of photos and messages from her Tumblr fans. Naughty, dirty, taboo, fetish, and wildly NSFW messages and photos. Good thing we were on vacation and so were most other people for Thanksgiving. I’ve noticed that around holidays, Lo’s fans really step up. Loneliness sets in, I suppose, and they reach out. Lo, ever gracious, always compliments their dick pics and entertains their most depraved fantasies about her. Every once in a while she draws the line with them, if they disrespect her or disrespect women in general. Though she is into BDSM, she still wants to be worshipped as a goddess. It’s a fine line, but make no mistake, there is a line.
I read a number of conversations that made me laugh. For instance, in response to one fan who asked, “What’s up?” Lo responded, “If you’re looking at my photos, then your cock.”
To another guy who sent a pic of himself jacking off to her photos, she said, “Looks like you’ve got things well in hand.”
Satisfied that her nocturnal communications were nothing but the innocent fapping fun of a nymphomaniac, I put her phone down and made myself a coffee.
Lo woke, groggy. She went to the bathroom and was in there for a while.
I had sat down to begin writing. I had my warm cup of coffee to my left and my notes to my right and I was gazing off to the middle distance contemplating the first line of the story when I heard, “Darling, can you come here? I need your opinion on something.”
I muttered under my breath, “She’s going to ask me how she looks in something and I will tell her and she’ll disregard my opinion and do whatever the hell she wants to do anyway. I don’t know why she claims she needs my opinion.” But I called back to her, “Yes dear,” as I got up from my comfortable writing perch and went to the bathroom.
In the bathroom I found her in a skimpy bikini.
“How do you like this top with these bottoms?” she asked.
“Nice.”
“Am I too fat?”
“Define what ‘too fat’ is.”
“Am I fat?”
“Honest answer?”
“Yes. No. Yes,” she said, confused.
“You’re just right.”
“But do I look fat in this?”
“Darling, you look perfect in it.”
“Is the bottom too cheeky?” she asked as she turned around and jutted her butt out.
“No. This would be too cheeky,” I said as I pulled the sides of the bikini bottom together to reveal most of her ass, followed by a spank.
“Mmmm, I like that,” she said.
“Me too. You’re welcome,” I responded as I began to return to my writing.
“Wait!” she demanded, “I’m not done.” She removed her bikini top and grabbed another one, putting it on. “What do you think of this?”
“I think it’s too big.”
“Too big?”
“Yeah, it covers too much of your tits.”
“Well I like it,” she said.
“I don’t know why you say you want my opinion on things when you never act on it.”
“Fifty something years and you don’t know by now that when a woman asks your opinion on how she looks, what she wants to hear is a compliment?”
“No,” I said. “It only took fifteen seconds for you to tell me that. Now I know. Thank you. And, by the way, you look great in that.”
“I look even better out of it. Take me to the right beach and you’ll see just how good I can look out of it.”
It was an enticing prospect, but today was Thanksgiving and we had to be at our family-friend’s house by two for the big meal. That left little time for an excursion to a nude beach.
We were both hungry and we ordered breakfast to our room.
Room service arrived and Lo answered in her skimpy bikini bottoms, no top. She even bent over to rummage through her bag for a tip to give him. My guess was that her little show was all the tip he needed.
After he left, Lo began to pout. She had ordered a bagel with cream cheese. “The bagel’s not toasty enough and the cream cheese doesn’t spread.”
“You know what I like about you? You tell it like it is. There’s no beating around the bush with you.”
“I don’t have any bush to beat,” she said, pulling back her bikini bottom and showing her shaved triangle.
“That is true.”
“But you can beat my puss.”
I was only wearing my cut-off sweatpants-shorts and a T-shirt. As Lo sat in her chair, fondling herself, I grew noticeably hard in my shorts.
“Why do you resist, Daddy?” she asked. “I can see you want me.”
“I do, but. . .” Before I could finish the sentence, she put her legs up in the air. One on the desk and the other on the bed, and she really went at it.
“Jerk off for me,” she commanded.
“Do you want me to fuck you or do you want me to jerk off?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
I pulled at my cock, hoping that I’d be getting some of her puss. She teased me by pulling her pussy lips, by pulling her bikini bottoms into a micro-bikini with her pussy lips spilling over the thin thong. “Should I go onto the beach like this, Daddy?” she asked.
That was too much for me. I exploded in my shorts.
“Nooooooo,” she called, seeing her hopes and dreams splattered all over my crotch.
“Sorry, Lo,” I said meekly.
“Damn it!” she said. “First breakfast was a disappointment, now dessert.”
“You’ll just have to take matters into your own hands,” I said.
No sooner had I said it than she swung around in the chair and opened the laptop computer to look at her Tumblr.
“Were you fooling around with my Tumblr account?” she asked me.
“No,” I said as I was cleaning myself off. “Why?”
There was no answer.
“Are you looking at all the messages from last night, er, earlier this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that was all you,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”
“I do now,” she said. I couldn’t tell if she was just trying to make like she hadn’t had that much to drink or if she was being honest. In either case, she began laughing. “I’m pretty funny,” she said as she masturbated to the photos she saw.
She got up and went on the bed where she shut her eyes and plunged her puss with her fist.
When she was good and done, I asked her what she was thinking about.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Nothing? Really? You just came like a howling wildebeest to the thought of nothing?”
“I’m very Zen.”
“Lo,” I said, unamused.
“Well. . .”
“Out with it.”
“I was thinking of the woman from the pool yesterday.”
“Mrs. Silicon?”
“Yeah. But in my mind. . . . No I shouldn’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“If I say it, you might get the wrong idea. You might think that I want it and I definitely don’t want it.”
“Want what?”
“In my mind she was young, blonde, and natural. She was coming onto you, making me jealous. You took her down to our hotel room. I followed and then the soundtrack started playing, ‘Girl Crush’.”
“What?”
“You know, the song ‘Girl Crush,’ by Little Big Town,” she said as she put the video on.
I gotta girl crush, hate to admit it but
I gotta heart rush, ain’t slowin’ down
I got it real bad, want everything she has
That smile and that midnight laugh she’s giving you now
I wanna taste her lips, yeah, ʼcause they taste like you
I wanna drown myself in a bottle of her perfume
I want her long blonde hair, I want her magic touch
Yeah, ʼcause maybe then you’d want me just as much
I gotta girl crush, I gotta girl crush
I don’t get no sleep, I don’t get no peace
Thinkin’ about her under your bed sheets
The way that she’s whisperin’, the way that she’s pullin’ you in
Lord knows I’ve tried, I can’t get her off my mind
“I see,” I said after hearing the song. “We could make that happen.”
She threw a pillow at me.
After she got dressed, I asked her what it was she wanted to do in the few hours we had before we were expected for the Thanksgiving meal.
“I didn’t tell you?”
“No, no you didn’t. What?”
“We’re going fishing!” she said all excited.
“We’re doing what?”
“Well, boating or fishing or skinny-dipping. Whatever we want, but my friend has a boat and. . .”
“Your friend? Who the hell do you know down here in Miami?”
“Darling, I have friends all over the world.”
“Tumblr friends?”
“When you’ve got assets like these,” she said, showing off her butt, “everyone wants to be your friend.”
“Good grief!”
“Anyhow, this friend of mine, or ours. . .”
“Ours?! I don’t even know him!”
“Whatever. That doesn’t matter. He knows you very well by now. He’s got a boat and he promised to take us out for a little trip today!”
Soon we were at the marina and, after a few wrong turns, we finally found the boat and Lo’s ‘friend.’ His name was Alan and he seemed nice enough. He was tall and lanky, he had some scruff on his face like he hadn’t shaved in three days. He was tan and looked like he spent his days in the Florida sun. I’d guess he was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. He had a small motorboat and we got aboard and Lo stripped down to her sexy bikini while Alan steered and made small talk with me. Turns out, I was right about how he spent his days. He worked at the marina part-time and as a waiter the rest of the time.
Lo and I had a few beers and we had a great view of the city from off the coast. The sun, the gentle rocking of the boat, and the beer made me drowsy and I almost nodded off. But we stopped the boat and we all decided to strip down to our birthday suits and take a refreshing dip. Lo, who used to be on the swim team in high school, made an elegant dive into the deep blue sea. I followed and then Alan. I might add here that Alan’s schlong was quite long and I could see Lo looking up from where she was treading water, lusting after him as he pealed out of his tight shorts. When I was next to her, I said, “Lo, you sure are a good Catholic.”
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“As Jesus said, ‘Be fishers of men, not of fish.’ Looks like you landed a real big one.”
“Oh Daddy. Do you think I didn’t know before how big he is?”
“I should have known.”
Then Alan jumped in. The water was refreshing and it was liberating to be so far out, swimming the way God made us. Lo swam right up next to Alan. “I’m getting tired of treading water,” she said quite falsely. “Will you hold me a while?”
Alan gladly wrapped his arms around her torso and allowed his left hand to rest on her breast. I watched from a slight distance. I could see Lo gently guide his right hand down to her puss. He was clearly rubbing her clit and soon she was cumming. She loves to cum in the ocean.
After she came, she turned around, wrapping her legs around Alan’s hips, and she held onto him like an aquatic marsupial. They began to make out, but it was awkward because, try as he might, Alan couldn’t keep both of them afloat while simultaneously trying to have intercourse with Lo.
Soon we climbed up the boat’s ladder, Lo first, of course, followed right after by Alan, and I brought up the rear. We were all sitting in the boat, catching our breath and enjoying the invigorating breeze and sunlight for a while. Then Lo went to the front to tan naked. Alan and I put on our shorts and Alan began to drive the boat back towards the marina. We passed a few other boats that waived and blew their horns at the sight of Lo.
About halfway back, Lo got up, grabbed another beer, and then asked Alan if he needed anything. The way she said it, I knew exactly what she meant. Alan said, “No, I’m good.”
But Lo got down on her knees, beer in one hand, and took his cock in her other hand and began stroking it over his shorts.
She looked up at him and said, “You sure?”
He looked down at her and said, “Well. . .” and that was enough for Lo to pull out his cock and take the whole, long pole deep in the back of her throat. She sucked on it and then periodically took a sip of her cold beer. Apparently the contrast between warm and cool was very pleasant for Alan and soon his froth was mixing with the head of the beer in Lo’s mouth. She seemed gratified and proud of her accomplishment.
Alan zipped up and Lo put her bikini back on just before we were within sight of the folks on the dock.
We parked the boat and Lo and I said our goodbyes, apologizing for having to leave so early, but we did have a Thanksgiving dinner to attend.
As we were walking away, Lo, holding my hand, asked me, “Daddy, why didn’t you fuck me on the boat?”
“I enjoyed the show,” I said.
“But didn’t you want me?” she asked.
“I did, but honestly, with the beer, the sun, and after the swimming, I was completely exhausted.”
She rolled her eyes and replied, “You put the ‘old’ in ‘cuckold’.”
We were on our way back to our hotel when, along the way, we found a cozy little bar called “The Village Pump.”
Lola stopped to look in for a moment. “Isn’t that what they called you in high school?” I asked, making a Lola joke.
“I’m rubbing off on you,” she said sardonically, followed by, “Hmmm, that sounds like fun!”
She grabbed my hand to pull me inside. “But Lo,” I protested, “we have to get ready for Thanksgiving!”
“This place is so cute and the back patio spills out right onto the beach,” she protested. “Just one drink. I just want to experience it.”
“Fine,” I conceded as we walked in, to Lo’s delight.
We popped in, each ordered a drink, and we found our way to the beachfront seating in the way back of the bar. Lo looked lovely in her sun hat and her bare feet. She teased and tempted me as we sat there, suggesting all sorts of fun frolics with her feet and licks with her lips. We downed our drinks, paid the tab and then were off to get ready for the Thanksgiving meal.
Back at the hotel, we changed into our casual-formal attire. In Miami everything is casual. We had to change quickly because due to Lo’s epicurean exploits, we were running behind schedule. We got to our friends’ apartment fashionably late, but people were still having cocktails and eating some light hors-d’oeuvres. Lo took a flute of champagne and quenched her thirst with it and then she grabbed me by the hand to pull me aside.
“Follow me,” she said, as she took me to the master bathroom.
Before I even had time to ask her “What?” she was bent over the marble sink in front of the large mirror. “Mount me,” she instructed. She slipped out of her red dress and pulled her tits out of her red bra. I looked at the two of us in the mirror and penetrated her as she wished.
“What’s this all about?” I asked in a whisper.
“Shut up and fuck me,” she said as she pulled out her phone. She put it on the counter and turned it on. Over her shoulder I could see that she had just got an influx of pics from fans jackin’ it to her divine image. Apparently, they excited her. As she was scrolling through her happy holidays messages, I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick shot of the action — a sexy selfie of us mid-coitus. She came. I didn’t. I was a bit too distracted. But then, just as I was pulling out of her tight, wet slit, the clenching of her cunt on my cock was the little added stimulation I needed to put me over the edge. I came, unexpectedly, all over her ass like icing on a cake.
Hastily, I cleaned her up and then she pulled up her panties and pulled down her skirt.
We hadn’t yet had the Thanksgiving meal, but I knew what I was thankful for.
Lo smiled mischievously as we mingled with the guests. She was happy. I was happy. And our merry-making in Miami was brought to a very satisfying conclusion.
