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“This Might Get Messy”

“Hi, I’m here to use your bedroom,” said Meri as she stood in the doorway to my house.

Meri

I was well aware of the plan.  Despite that, she seemed hangdog about showing up on my stoop and having to ring the bell to be let in by me in order to engage in a tryst.  It was all the more awkward because the tryst was not with me, but with the two young brothers from across the street.  Her curt sentence – to the point, devoid of pleasantries – told me all I needed to know.  She was not proud of her choice.  She was driven to do this by some internal compulsion.  She wanted as little interaction with me as possible.  She was hoping that I wouldn’t even acknowledge that I know her.

I know who she is.  I know what she was there for.  I know her secret.

I decided to play to her weakness.  It wasn’t kind of me and I’m not proud of it either.

“Oh, hi Meri!” I said, loudly and genially.  She almost shuttered at the sound of her name and I detected a darting sideways glance to see if anyone was around to hear me say it.

She stepped in hastily, almost landing on my toes.

“Hi,” she said, reluctantly.

Her red hair brought out the blush of her cheek.  She was embarrassed.  She was wearing tight jeans and a black V-neck t-shirt.  Her oversized, dark sunglasses – the kind movie stars wear in order to remain inconspicuous – looked downright comical on her and, if anything, would draw more attention to her, not less.  She was dressed very casually, even understated, except for her fancy, black leather, strappy high heels.

“Why don’t you come in?” I said, getting out of her way as she was already inside.  “Can I offer you anything?  A seltzer?  Coffee?  Glass of wine?”

“No, no thank you,” she said.  She was also nervous.

“Something to eat?”

She wasn’t there for tea and crumpets.  She was there to get fucked and fucked good by two boys less than half her age.  She was eager.  She was guilty.  She was sneaking around behind her husband’s back.  I knew this because, at the very same time that I was letting her into my house for her mid-day delights, Lo was arriving at her house, seducing her husband.

Her timorous greeting was surprising, given how bold and confident she appeared the last time I saw her at the backyard luncheon that Lo and I hosted for her to meet the brothers.  That day she came in with all the confidence and certitude of a seasoned hunter in search of prey.  Her self-assured airs were, perhaps, her most attractive feature.  But now, in the glare of the noonday sun, deprived of young men for whom she turned on the charm, she appeared to me completely transformed.  She was a middle-aged suburban mother of three.  A woman of my own generation.  She and I could have been in high school together.  Back then she would have been the belle of the ball, the prom queen, Ms. Popularity.  But now I could see she was desperate to preserve her youth, in spirit and in appearance.  She feared the ravages of the next twenty-five years.  She hated with a fierce passion the thief who would slowly, methodically, persistently steal from her her most treasured possession – her looks.  That accursed Thief Time! – whom Botox cannot keep out, Silicone and Saline cannot evade, and lifts only delays but fails to destroy.  In that moment, I felt great pity for her.  I could understand her completely and compassionately.  Weren’t we both in the same predicament?

Yes, it may be true, as I’ve often heard women remark with bitterness, that men grow more attractive with age.  Whenever they observe that fact, they never fail to add that it is supremely unfair to women.  Yet, Time steals from us all that which we most covet.  For me, it is my mental acumen and creative powers.  Each time I fail to recall just the right word in a sentence – whether while speaking or writing – I suffer as greatly as Meri when she discovers another age spot or laugh line.

She had aged, and pretty well too for a mother of three boys, but she felt as if Time had stolen more than her prized looks.  It had stolen from her twenty-five years of opportunity.  For twenty-five years she had remained faithful to her husband.  For twenty-five years she had settled for mediocre sex (at best) and the life of suburban ennui.  She felt as if she had been sleepwalking through life and now, her kids grown and nearly out of the house, COVID bearing down on us all, the threat of sickness and death imminent, she had finally awoken from her long slumber.

Though she began her affair with Lola prior to the outbreak of the global pandemic, it probably was the events of 2020 that steeled her resolve.  The news reporters announced that COVID was a threat to “the elderly,” and then it was people over sixty-five.  But then they reduced it to fifty-five.  And finally, people over fifty shouldn’t fly.  In Meri’s mind that was a threat to other people.  Old people.  Until it set in with a vengeance, “Oh, wait.  I’m in that category.  I’m over fifty!  I’m one of the ones at ‘elevated risk.’”

That little thought, that snippet of data, that thread of realization circulated her psyche like a bit of programming virus through a computer, infecting all of the cognitive functions slowly, unnoticed, until eventually, one day, she had made up her mind that if she was mortal and the winter of her life was in sight, then she was going to live out her autumn to the fullest.

The immediate result of that was her here, in my house, staring at me, her contemporary and, perhaps also, in her mind, her rival.  I didn’t view her that way.  But she may have viewed me as such.  She also may have been irritated by the fact that though I was her own age, my partner was the young and lovely Lola – her lover – while her husband was also in his fifties.  If, as I often say, Lola keeps me young, maybe she felt that her husband keeps her old.  At the very least, he was a constant reminder of her fading youth.

“I think you know where the bedroom is,” I said to her, seeing as how she was cool to my hospitality.  “Feel free to use the master bath.”

She looked at me and struggled to form a small smile.  But her eyes expressed a question that she couldn’t bring her mouth to articulate.

“Oh, I’ll make myself scarce so you can let the boys in.”  I emphasized the word “boys” just slightly.

She seemed both appreciative and perturbed.

I opened the closet to take out my jacket since there was an autumnal chill in the air that morning.

Before I left, she plucked up the courage to say, “HH, I know what you’re thinking.”

“That makes one of us,” I replied.  “What am I thinking?”

“You think I’m a terrible person.  You think that I’m an adulterer and a whore for wanting those two brothers.  And who knows what else,” she said with a tortured expression on her face.

“I’m not thinking any of those things,” I replied.  I really wasn’t.  All of that was her projection of her own thoughts on me.

“I’m sure you are.  You’re just too polite to say so.  Who wouldn’t?”

“I don’t.  I’m not here to judge you or anyone.”

“Well, I want you to know that. . .”  She didn’t know what she wanted me to know.  Her sentence trailed off like a road covered by the sands of a desert.

“Meri, all I know is you’re doing Lo a favor and she’s doing you one in return.”

 

Lo pulled up in the cul-de-sac and parked in front of Meri’s house.  Meri had told her husband Scott that she needed a day to herself.  Without the option of going to the hairdresser, the spa, or the nail salon due to COVID, she needed to have some way of engaging in “self-care” and “me-time.” She told her husband she craved some time away, but didn’t say how she was going to spend that time.

Little did he know or even suspect that it was really “fuck-me-time” with two brothers the same age as her sons that she craved so much and how she chose to care for herself.

Knowing that Scott wouldn’t object to her being out of the house, she also informed him that Lola wished to come over to use the kitchen.  She would be making a meal to deliver to a friend who wasn’t doing too well and Lo’s kitchen wasn’t big enough.  The friend had a large family and Lo wanted to help out during these trying times.  All of that was actually true, except it conveniently left out the ulterior motive which was to seduce Scott in order to provide Meri with a clear conscience.  If you ask me, that was not the way to clear her conscience.  My guess is that her unconscious had ulterior motives, one of which was to have her man fuck Lo.  Another of which may have been to prove to Lo how terribly awful Scott is in bed in order that Lo wouldn’t judge Meri harshly for wanting to fuck the brothers.  Her motivations remain murky, but this was the plan.

Lo was assured that the three boys would be out of the house when she arrived that Sunday morning and only Scott would be home to receive her.  Wearing her turquoise pumps and a cute matching dress, Lo practically skipped into the house when Scott opened the door for her.  The contrast between Meri’s skulking and Lo’s bright, cheerful, perky personality couldn’t have been more stark.

Lo carried some ingredients in a paper shopping bag and passed them to Scott at the door, saying, “I just can’t wait to make use of this kitchen!  It’s enormous!  I’m so envious.”

Scott wasn’t used to this sort of feminine energy in his house.  He was enchanted by Lo’s Manic Pixie Dream Girl persona.  Who wouldn’t be?  Lo began talking a mile a minute.

“I have so many plans for this meal.  Will you help me make it?  Are you busy?  Am I interrupting something?  I hope not.  I’m making it for a friend who’s not feeling well and she has four kids.  You can relate, right?  By the way, where are your boys today?  I don’t see them around.  I hope I didn’t scare them off.”

Scott was about to answer each question, but Lo just steamrolled to the next sentence.  He was left speechless.

“This might get messy,” said Lo, “I don’t want to ruin this dress.  Do you mind if I change out of it?  Do you have a kitchen apron I can wear?  Oh, I see one right there,” she said in rapid fire, going towards the door with a hook on the back where the apron hung.  She grabbed it, draped it over a chair, and then slipped out of her dress.  She had on no bra.  All she wore was her blue satin panties with lace frills.  “You don’t mind if I change in front of you, do you?  I hear you’ve already seen me naked.  And you saw me sunbathing in your backyard, so it’s not like it’s anything new.  There,” she said, putting the apron on over her bare breasts, “done.  Now, are you interested in helping me?  You can beat the eggs.  Here, let me show you.  Do you have a lot of experience in the kitchen?  Probably not, with Meri here.  She’s fabulous.  You know, she told me you’d be willing to do anything I ask.  Is that right?”

Lo readily enlisted him to assist her.

“Here, move the whisk in this motion,” she said, grabbing his wrist and guiding it, using the same motion that she would use to jack him off.

For the most part, he made a halfway decent sous-chef.  They made a quiche, a soup, and they were in the middle of preparing the ingredients for a cake when Lo, slightly frustrated that Scott had not made any moves on her yet, “accidentally” spilled the flour on him.

“Oh my!  I’m so clumsy!  I’m sorry!  Let’s get you right out of those clothes.  You look like a ghost.”  She reached for his shirt and helped him to unbutton it.  He didn’t resist.  She went for his pants and unbuckled his belt.  He didn’t resist.  She unzipped the fly.  He didn’t resist.  She dropped them to his ankles.  While she was down on her knees, she looked up at him, her mouth slightly agape.  There was finally a pause to all her chatter.  They looked at each other – she from below up, him from above, down.

“Should we get you out of these too?” Lo asked while gently pulling down his boxers.  He didn’t resist.

Lo was supremely curious to see just how small his member was and, though she had been fully warned ahead of time by Meri, she still was shocked by the diminutive size of it.  It was truly a micropenis.  Lo thought to herself that her own clit is probably larger than his prick.

Nevertheless, there it was.  Erect?  She wondered.  Only one way to find out.  She lifted her mouth to it and took it between her lips the way she would if she were teasing Meri’s clit.  She used the tip of her tongue to flip and lick it.  It grew, but only slightly.  He was nervous.  She could tell by his shallow breathing.

“Do you like?” she asked when she took her mouth off his clit for a moment, looking up at him.

He could hardly speak.

She took his small balls in her mouth from below.  She teased and tickled them with her tongue as well.

She removed her mouth and looked up at him once again.  “Do you want to fuck me?”

She stood up and dropped the apron, revealing her breasts.  She kissed him on the mouth.  He had to hunch over to reach her since their height difference was so great.  She grabbed his left hand with her right and placed it on her right breast for him to fondle it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she repeated again as she slid out of her satin panties.

“Y-Y-Y-Yes,” he stammered.  “But. . . Meri.  But, I’m m-m-m-married.  I can’t. . .”

Before he could finish his sentence, Lo put her index finger to his lips to shush him.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered seductively.  “Meri knows.  I told Meri how much I have wanted to fuck you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”  She lied.  “She gave me permission.”  This revelation wasn’t in the plan.  It was a last resort in case just this sort of conflicted Scott presented an impediment to their scheme.

He looked startled.  Confused.  He had lived a faithful, monogamous life with Meri.  Their marriage had been the picture of domestic decorum, so he thought.  Where did this come from?  He surmised that it was his fault.  He attributed it to the night he and Meri read the blog together and he fucked Meri from behind while looking at Lola’s pics on the computer.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Lo repeated.

“Yes,” he finally admitted, “but not here.  The boys might come home at any minute.”

He led her to the master bedroom.

“The boys might come home at any minute.”  The phrase was echoing in her head as he walked in front of her.  This made no sense to her.  She was promised they wouldn’t be home.

“Where are they?” she asked before they got upstairs to the bedroom.

“Meri asked them to do some errands.”

“Errands?  Like what?”  Lo needed to know.  She needed to calculate how much time they had together.

“Taking the trash to the dump, shopping, bringing her clothes to the cleaners.  That sort of stuff.”

“When did they leave?”

“About a half hour before you got here.  Why?”

“Just curious,” said Lo.

They entered the bedroom.  To be very honest, Lo did not find Scott attractive at all.  But Lo does find the power to seduce a married man, especially a man married to a woman as sexy as Meri, very attractive.

 

Brothers, Lo, Meri

Meri was doing Lo a favor by redirecting the brother’s sexual attention from Lo to her.  Though Lo has used the boys for their perpetual pumping prowess during the strict restrictions of COVID, when her usual prowling about for pleasure was severely curtailed, and though they have used her like a 24/7 drive-thru window, Lo had grown bored and tired of being the living sex-doll for the siblings.  Spread legs, pump hard, fill ’er up, repeat.  But she didn’t want to leave them high-and-dry when social interaction had been so reduced due to COVID protocols and the strict, watchful eye of their doting mother, who didn’t allow them out of the house or to have visitors over, with the exception of going to see Lo.  Meri seemed to be the perfect wet stream into which to channel their virile energies.

For Meri, these two handsome youths provided a more acceptable outlet for her overflowing and irrepressible gravitation toward young boys.  And not only was there one willing wanker, but two!  Each, roughly the same ages as her sons.

 

The two brothers arrived at our doorstep at the appointed time.  Meri, now dressed in a black satin robe, barely long enough to cover her ass, greeted them at the door.  Thanks to Lo’s preparations, they knew that they would be met by her and not me or Lola.

They were eager to have this MILF, especially after hearing Lo’s rave reviews of Meri’s sexual abilities.  Meri, for her part, was overwhelmed by their youthful good looks, their innocent smiles, their sibling resemblance, their trim and V-shaped torsos that had not yet fully grown into the frames of full-fledged men.  To say she was wet with the anticipation of seeing them both nude, together, standing intensely at attention and desirous of her would be understating it.

 

She led them to the bedroom, allowing them to enjoy the teasing revelations that her robe afforded them from behind.  Once she had let them in the bedroom and closed the door behind her, her demeanor suddenly changed from friendly and salivating over her prospects to stern and commanding.  “Strip,” she said with authority.

The boys were not used to this tone, but they hastily obeyed, unbuttoning their shirts and removing their pants until they stood before Meri without a shred of clothing on either of them.

Meri liked what she saw.  Not only were they fit, with abs as rippled and firm as a washboard, but they were hung like she hadn’t seen in a long time, except in porn.  Each of them possessed a cock that, even when flaccid, as they were then standing naked before her, displayed a girth and length that was very impressive.  She was eager to see just how much those cocks would impress when aroused.

Now that they were naked, she slowly removed her satin robe, revealing a black lace bra and matching black lace panties underneath.

“Lie down and lie back,” she ordered.  The two boys got on the bed – the bed I share with Lola, just to be clear – and she got between them.  She grabbed a cock in each hand and began stroking up and down.  “Let Mommy make you feel better,” she said to them, revealing her kink to them.  They responded with enthusiasm.

 

Lo calculated that this had to be quick and dirty.  Naked, she climbed up on the bed and remained on all fours, looking back over her shoulder at Scott as she said, “Fuck me.”

He approached the side of the bed.  He was very tall.  His cock was aligned with Lo’s pussy, but it was too small.  He made a few thrusting movements and Lo looked over her shoulder again and said, “Good.  Now fuck me.”

“I am fucking you,” Scott said.

Lo couldn’t feel it.

“Get in there.  Give it to me,” she said.

He thrust harder.  She felt nothing but the slap of his fat pelvis on her round ass.

“Fuck my ass,” she said, hoping she might get more stimulation that way.

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes.  Fuck me.  I need it.”

She could feel him doing something back there, but whatever it was, it didn’t feel like he was penetrating her any more in her ass than he had in her puss.

She didn’t want to make him feel as inadequate as he was, so she gave in and began to moan.  “Yeah,” she said, long and drawn out, “that’s it.  Fuck my ass.  Oh yeah.  I love to feel cock in my ass.  Do you like my ass?  Am I tight?”

Scott only managed to make a few grunting noises.

“Slap it.”

Scott slapped her right ass cheek.

“Harder.”

He complied.

“Yes.  I’m going to cum.  I’m going to cum.  You’re making me cum in my ass,” she said, lying all the way.

Suddenly she felt his warm jizz all over her.  She pulled forward, turned around rapidly, opened her mouth and took his small, wet pud between her lips, rolling her tongue over it, licking it clean.

He immediately fell into the bed like a giant sequoia toppling to the earth.

“Holy shit!” he said.  “Lola.”

And without any other comment, he promptly began to snore lightly.

The whole affair, from the moment they entered the bedroom to his collapsing, was less than five minutes.  Lo knew because she was keenly aware of the time, afraid that they would get caught in the act when the boys came home.

Relieved that her performance was complete, Lo got up and went downstairs to put her clothes back on, but just as she entered the kitchen, she heard the three sons enter from the front door.  She threw on her panties and, without enough time to put on her dress, grabbed the cooking apron.  She was still adjusting it when they entered the kitchen with groceries.

“Lola!” said the youngest one – the one who knew her the best.

The other two gave her a suspicious look.

“Oh, hi,” she said, awkwardly.  “I’m Lola.”  She hadn’t ever formally met the two older brothers.

“We know,” said one of them.

She smiled, realizing that they know her from getting off to her images and stories on the blog.  The three brothers were all very tall, like their dad, but of three different heights.  And they were thin and lanky, indicating that all their caloric intake was still going toward there expanding vertically, not yet horizontally, like their dad.

“Didn’t your mother tell you I was coming over?” she asked.

“No.”

“Oh, Meri invited me to use the kitchen to prepare a meal for one of my friends who is not doing so well.  Your kitchen is so much larger than mine.”

“Do you always cook barefoot and topless?” asked one of the boys rudely.

“Where’s dad?” asked another one.

“He’s upstairs, sleeping,” said Lo, hoping they wouldn’t ask too many questions, like how did you know he was sleeping upstairs and why would you know that?  Also, Lo couldn’t remember if she shut the bedroom door behind her as Scott lay naked on the bed.

She wanted to distract them from that line of questioning and so she “accidentally” dropped the whisk.  She bent over to pick it up, showing the three boys her ass in the cute turquoise panties she was wearing. But her little ruse backfired, so to speak.  The boys, noticing her ass, also noticed that her lower back was covered in cum.

“You and dad?” asked the youngest.

“What?” replied Lola, dropping the ‘innocent little ole me’ routine.

“You fucked dad.  There’s cum all over your back.”

“Ew!” said one of the other boys.

“It’s more like he fucked me,” responded Lo, quickly realizing that in order for this situation to be contained, she’d have to act fast.  “And so can you,” she said to the three of them.  She removed the cooking apron, revealing her breasts.  “Who wants to be first?”

“It’s more like sloppy second, isn’t it?” said the oldest.

Lo walked to the bedroom on the first floor.  She had noticed it earlier.  She turned to the boys, “I’ll be in here.  One at a time.”

One at a Time

She got up on the bed on all fours, as she had done earlier, and slowly removed her panties.  The door to the bedroom was across the open-concept kitchen and she left it open for them to see her wet snatch, inviting them in.  The eldest brother went first.  He took down his pants just far enough to let out his cock.  He didn’t shut the door behind him and the other two brothers watched.  They could only see his back.  His pecker was only slightly larger than the father’s.  He fucked Lo from behind for about ten minutes before cumming in her pussy.  Though more significant than Scott’s ineffectual fuck, this hardly proved substantial enough to get Lo off, but she put on a first-rate performance again.

As soon as that son left the room, the middle one came in.  He too left the door wide open, as if there was an unwritten rule in the house about not closing doors.  He got completely naked and told Lo to suck his cock.  She did so happily and easily since he too was diminutive in size.  He got very hard, though not thick or long, and then turned Lo around and had her doggie-style as well.  He too came in her cunt.  Lo’s faux climax was louder and more intense than the previous two.

Finally, the youngest boy came in.  He had desired Lo for a long time, and especially since he was Lo’s eager student for the intimate biology lesson she gave him when they were camping.  Lo resolved that she couldn’t say no to him after granting permission to every other household member.

He looked like the wolf about to devour Little Red.

“On your back,” he said with a surprisingly authoritative tone.  He spoke like he owned her.

Lo rolled over.

“Spread your legs, wide.”

She did.

“Spread your pussy lips.”

She used her index finger and thumb of each hand to pinch her pussy lips and pull them apart.

He got on his knees and dove in with his tongue, like a honey badger, the way Lo had taught him.  He licked and sucked and sloppily slurped her up, as well as her cream filling, bringing her to her first authentic orgasm of the day.

Then he dropped his pants and entered her pussy.  “Mom always said I could learn a lot from you, Lola,” he said.  He then added, “I can’t believe this is finally really happening!”

Learn from Lola

As Lo lay there, spreading her legs wide, feeling nothing of his repeated and vigorous thrusts, she grabbed her tits and stretched out her nipples, putting on a show as she internally was waiting for him to finish.  She looked over at the bookshelf in the room and read the titles: Tampa, the Fifty Shades series, all five volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark.  That’s when she realized, this isn’t any of the boys’ bedrooms.  This is a spare bedroom that Meri uses for her masturbation session.

She then heard the sound of heavy footsteps upstairs.  She tried to speak, to utter a warning, but the youngest was going at her and he had bent over, sucking on Lo’s udder like it was feeding time.

“Your Dad.  He’s coming,” she managed to articulate just before. . .

Two for One

Meanwhile, back at our house, Meri and the two brothers engaged in just about every conceivable permutation of penetration possible with two penises and a hungry MILF who likes to perform kinky roleplay.  Besides the positions you might readily expect (including many that they had practiced on Lo in the preceding months of using her as their COVID cum-dump), the highlights included Meri taking both their cocks in her mouth at once for a double-brother-blow-job.  Why hadn’t Lo thought of that?  Meri wasn’t ready or able to accommodate the two in her ass and puss because, after years of sex with Scott, the girth of just one cock was almost too much for her, in either orifice.  But she tried to outperform any of the brothers’ previous partners, including Lo, by being as raunchy, dirty, and devilish as she could.  She let her wild imaginings roam free.  The brothers had never experienced anything like that and after the raunchy rendezvous they never could look at their mother the same way again.  As if two brothers sharing a mother (not their own) wasn’t incestuous enough, Meri had to push the boundaries by saying things such as, “You want to suck Mommy’s tits?” and “Kiss Mommy hello,” as she spread her legs, “Tell Mommy how much you love her.”  Meri lost count of how many times she climaxed and also, to her great astonishment, was unable to count how many times the brothers came since, unlike her husband, they were capable of reloading their weapons with astounding alacrity.

As they fucked her, as she sucked them, as they penetrated her ass, as she ran her hands up and down their smooth torsos, as they squeezed her tits, as she held their hefty balls and weighed them in her hands, she thought of all sorts of other perverted possibilities that she’d like to perform with them, for them, on them.  She, being a natural-born schemer, was scheming already.

 

Scott was on the stairs when he saw two of his sons standing by the kitchen countertop, looking intently at something.  He glanced over to the mirror, positioned on the wall just-so, allowing a view of the bedroom door.  There he saw his youngest going at Lola with more vigor and verve than he ever could muster.  He waited on the stairs silently until the show was over and the youngest emerged from the bedroom triumphant.  Then he continued his descent down the stairs and onto the first floor.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, pretending to be oblivious to it all.

“Guess who just lost his virginity,” said the oldest brother, proudly slapping his youngest sibling on the back and presenting him to his father.

Apparently this family really was quite open and matter-of-fact about all things sexual.  However, Lo knew that the congratulations for this accomplishment was actually late and misplaced.  But there was no simple way of explaining to his father or his brothers how he actually lost his virginity, so the youngest just accepted the accolades and smiled broadly.

Lo emerged, naked from the bedroom.  Her clothes were haphazardly strewn about in the kitchen.  There was no other, more graceful way of getting them.  The three boys and their father looked at her as she walked silently.  Her hair was a mess.  Her breasts still glowed red where she was groped and sucked.  And the cum of four men was dripping down her ass and inner thighs.  She could feel it slowly oozing past her knees and down to her ankles.  (Parenthetically, it is rumored that the smaller the penis, the larger the load.  Lo would attest to the veracity of that adage.)

“I probably should be going,” she said as she picked up her panties and slid them on over the tacky mess.  She felt like she was literally the glue that kept this unusual family together.  She slid on her dress and slipped her feet into her shoes.  She could feel cum on her instep as she did so.

“Bye,” she said, trying to smile, trying to walk with class and dignity as her bare feet in her shoes were slurping and her pussy was making gurgling noises as even more cum slid out of her.

Queef

“Too bad you missed Meri,” called Scott to her.

When he said that, the youngest son, who had met Roy and Gary at our backyard picnic a couple of weeks prior, put two-and-two together.  He suddenly realized where his mother was and what (or whom) she was doing.  That’s right.  It was all just a convenient ploy to allow her to have the brothers.  These four men thought they were taking Lo for their pleasure, but they had been taken in by Meri, their mother/wife/lover.  This created a poignant pang of jealousy in the mind of the youngest boy as the full implications of the deception dawned on him.

Lo sped home, fearing that she had gone too far, said too much, fucked too many.  She doesn’t usually feel that way after coaxing the cum from four men, but these weren’t just any random four men.  They were three brothers and their father, the husband and three sons of Lo’s lesbian lover who, at that very moment was coaxing cum from two other brothers roughly the same age as her own sons.

Lo pulled in the drive.  She saw my car was there and Meri’s car was parked across the street.  She had called me on her way and so she knew that I had left on foot for a walk through the neighborhood and to the park.  She asked me to come home.

I arrived just as she did and she asked me, “Where’s Meri?”  Neither of us had to wait long for our answer because, bellowing out from our bedroom window, just as Lo had done so many many times before, was the primal scream of a woman climaxing like crazy.

We both looked up to the window in astonishment at the sound – for it conveyed almost supernatural overtones of pleasure – and in fear.  For how long had she been carrying on like that?

Window Crack

“Doesn’t she know that the brother’s live just across the street and their mother can hear her?” asked Lo, articulating the concern we shared.

Lo parked and tooted the horn to give a signal to Meri that we were returning to our home.

In we went, and from the entrance we could hear the boom-boom-boom of someone being fucked as if bent over a bureau down the hall and in the bedroom.

“Wait here,” said Lo, taking command of the situation.  She strutted down the long hallway and knocked rapidly and loudly on the wooden door.

One of the brothers opened the door.  He stood naked beneath the lintel.  Lo looked in and saw Meri bent over, her hands supporting her by resting on the windowsill, her legs spread wide, and the other brother banging her from behind.  In her behind?  Possibly.  Probably.  The brother at the door, Gary, was limp, sweaty, and panting, as if recently tagged to be replaced by his teammate.

“Look,” said Lo, “this is fun and all, but her bellowing like a banshee is going to alarm the whole neighborhood, including your mom, if it hasn’t already!”

Just at that moment the doorbell rang.  It was the bothers’ mother!  I answered it, slowly, coolly, calmly.

Lo was busy getting the brothers dressed.  Roy, who had been banging Meri, framed by the window, pulled out, hard, wet, and fully loaded.

“Are my boys here?” asked the mom.

“Just a minute,” I said, stalling, “I have to grab a mask.”  COVID precautions.

I ran down the hall.  “She’s here,” I whispered.  I saw Meri, stark naked, cum covered, her hair matted down with sweat and who knows what other bodily fluids, her chest heaving on the bed, her hands cupped between her legs either giving her pleasure or keep the cum inside her.

Lo was in full-on damage-control mode.  “Tell her that they’re helping me move some furniture.”

“Right.”

I returned, no mask.

“They’ll be right here,” I said, nervously, “they’re just banging. . . some furniture.”

“What?  And where’s your mask?”

“Oh, sorry, I couldn’t find it.  Let me go look again.”

I disappeared down the hall again.

“She’s not happy.  She’s suspicious,” I said to Lo.

“No shit!  Make her unsuspicious.”

This time I grabbed a mask from the nightstand.  I went back to the front door and as I approached our nosy neighbor, I went to put the mask on.  Only, it wasn’t a mask.  It was Meri’s black underpants!  And they were quite creamed in too!

“Oh, this isn’t mine!” I said, fumbling.  “I’ll be right back.”

I tossed the panties somewhere, anywhere, and reached in my bag to find a proper mask.  Returning, I said, “Lo’s tied up at the moment.”

This wasn’t exactly true because there had been times when the brothers actually tied her up to the bed and had taken turns with her.  But, as a turn of phrase, it was true enough.

“But my boys, are they ok?  I heard screams.”

“Fine.  Strenuous work, you know?  But they’re big, strapping young men.  Great energy and enthusiasm those two.  You should be proud.”

“They don’t ever lift a finger for me at home.”

“Well, ain’t that just like boys,” I said, not knowing what the hell I meant.  “I assure you, they are always up for the occasion here.  They’ve helped Lo when they’ve come many times.”  I was babbling now.  “And Lo has come and come.”

“What?” she asked, suspiciously.

“I mean, here comes Lo now!” I said, relieved to see Lo appear next to me in the doorway.

“Thank you so much for the use of your boys. . . again,” she said, sweet as pie.  “How can I show my appreciation for everything they do?”

“I just was checking to make sure everything’s alright.  I heard some screams.”

“Fine, fine.  Just the old power saw.”

“Power saw?!”

“Yes,” she said searching for a story.

“Do they even know how to use a power saw?” asked the concerned mother.

“Oh, they’re handy, those two!  They can slice and drill, bang, and erect things like master carpenters.  I’m always amazed at their talents.  Do they take a shop class in school?”

“No!  I don’t think they’ve ever even held a hammer.”

“They sure can wield a tool,” said Lo.  “This old apartment would probably just go to pieces without them.  Thanks ever so much!”

Just then the brothers appeared in the doorway.

“Hi Mom,” said one of them genially.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” said the other brother.

“They were just moving furniture,” I said, trying to clue them into the alibi.

“And using the power saw,” added Lo.

“Right,” said Gary.  “Make sure you don’t touch that.  It’s dangerous.  But thanks for letting us help you out,” he added.

“Such sweet kids, thanking me for their time and talent,” interjected Lo.  “I hope I didn’t keep them too long.  I told them you’d be worried.  Especially with all that ruckus.”

The confused but genial neighbor mom finally left with her two angels.

Lo removed her mask and walked back to the bedroom, got naked and climbed into bed with Meri.  The two of them shared stories of their busy afternoons.  Contrary to Lo’s fears, Meri ate up all the nefarious fornicating Lo relayed to her about Scott and the three boys.  Literally.  When Meri heard that Scott came on Lo’s back and the boys in her cunt, she licked Lo’s lower back and labia, lapping up the sticky sap from her sons and husband.

Lo and Meri

Lo returned the favor after Meri recounted with arousal the ways that she was used by the two brothers.  When the two of them finally finished fucking and filling in the gaps, Meri got dressed, sans panties (since later that evening I found those where I had tossed them when searching for a mask) and said a curt goodbye to me.

She felt rejuvenated, light, high, like a teenager again.  She needn’t see my old countenance to remind her of her true age.  She went home to her husband and sons.  She was reeking of sex, sperm, and self-satisfaction.  How was she greeted by her family when she arrived?  I don’t know.

Meanwhile, Lo was reeking too and ready to relive the day’s events by recounting it to me.  We got into bed and she said, “You want me?”

I said, “I do.”

She said, “Well, you’re going to have to settle for Stoya because I’m all fucked out.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief.

“Well, you can start with her and we’ll see where things go.”

She took out my Stoya Destroya, lubed up my hard cock, and slid the Fleshlight cylinder down my shaft.

“Her pussy feel good?” she asked.

“So good.”

“Kiss me,” she said.

I kissed her wet lips that had done so many dirty deeds throughout the day.

“Tell me all,” I said.

She turned on her back and put the prosthetic pussy between her legs and moved her finger down to the clit on Stoya’s pussy, just as she would do to herself during sex.  She slid it into the slippery slit, pressing up against my shaft as I fucked her – I mean, fucked Stoya.  She knows I love that feeling.  She slid into Stoya’s tight twat a second finger.

Then she began speaking, starting with pulling up in front of the suburban house.  We had to take many breaks because she kept taking me to the brink with her words and wiggling fingers.  Eventually, she removed the sex toy from my cock and replaced it with her own puss, sitting up on top of me, riding me up-and-down.

“Oh, Daddy, you have no idea how much I craved a good, thick, long cock today,” she said.

“I’m glad I can satisfy your craving.”

She chuckled a bit and said, “I wasn’t talking about your cock.  Your cock is serviceable.”

She came nonetheless, but then she asked me to pull out her Remus horse cock dildo to actually fulfill her deepest desire.  I took it out of its box and affixed the suction cup bottom to the full-length mirror about a foot and a half from the floor.

Lo got on her hands and knees and slid back onto the protruding equine penis.  From that position she looked up at me, sitting on the side of the bed, and continued her story, cumming multiple times.

Sometimes I think that she engages in these sexploits only to turn herself on by the recollection of it later.  Anaïs Nin has said, “We write to taste life twice.”  In the same vain, Lo tells her tales to me to be in control of her own climaxes.  By her own account, she came many more times in retelling than in the actual encounter.  As I stroked my cock to her tale, she told me to cum all over her when she got to the part about frolicking with Meri in our bedroom.  She told me how Meri greedily licked all the remaining cum from her body that was deposited there by the three boys and Meri’s husband.  That was the depraved detail that delivered me from my state of delirious desire.  Lo tilted her head up, opened her mouth, and received my offering to her divine chalice like a champ.

Sound

[This story, in case you don’t pick up on it, is dedicated to the incomparable, Jupiter Grant. You can find her work here, here, here, here, and here.]

“In physics, sound is a vibration that propagates as an acoustic wave, through a transmission medium such as a gas, liquid or solid. In human physiology and psychology, sound is the reception of such waves and their perception by the brain.”

Lola’s Tum

 

It had been a wet month.  The typical English spring attempted to outdo itself with unrelenting grey skies, showers, and sopping English gardens.  Jupiter Grant, or Jupi, as she likes to be called by her friends, had not gone out for weeks.  Her groceries had been delivered and her supply of wine was dwindling.  It had been months since she had seen her ersatz lover, H.  She referred to him only as H and thought of him as “ersatz” because he was a Husband to another woman and had a family in London.  Jupi was the proverbial “other woman,” the “mistress,” the “seductress.”  At least that’s the way the judging world would see her.  The judging world being the monogamous, heteronormative world.  Between Jupi, H, and H’s wife, there was an open understanding.  Still, that cozy relationship was of no use during the long COVID lockdown.

From Jupi’s point of view, she was the guest always late to the party.  She and H had chemistry that they both acknowledged.  Not just sexual, but spiritual.  They knew they were meant to be together, but their paths had crossed many years too late in life.  As a compromise to life’s cruel humor, they connected when and how they could; neither one demanding more of the other or disappointed by the other since they both knew that this was the best arrangement for all parties involved.  Yet Jupi was not late to the poly-party.  Thank goodness, she thought, that she lived in and was a part of the polyamory zeitgeist.

A Happy Fan

Yet the knowledge that they were two lost souls doing what they could to find joy in a largely painful and sad world provided little relief for Jupi when her deepest needs swelled up to fill her entire being with desire – desire to be held, touched, caressed, kissed, fondled, spanked, sucked, filled, and fucked.  At those moments, a quick fap merely whet her ferocious appetite.  She needed more.  She craved the comfort of H’s strong, firm flesh pressing down on her own soft, welcoming, warm body.

Unrelieved in her needs, she turned to compensatory pleasures and perversions.  Much of her sexual energy, she found over the years, could be diverted into creative power.  Writing erotica was her main outlet.  But lately she discovered a new medium into which she channeled her plentiful reserves of poetic and prurient lust and her craving to perform: her voice.  Through a series of happy coincidences, she discovered that not only could she narrate literotica, she could nail it with every ounce of sexy she felt swirling through her sensual spirit and her beautiful body.

Volume I

A manuscript had arrived: Match, Cinder & Spark: Nymphomania and the Single Girl.  “Hmmmm,” she thought, “this could be interesting.  Or, it could be a colossal waste of time.  Thousands of words, hundreds of pages of driveling, second-rate, even third-rate pablum ‘poetry’ for pubescent boys.”  She poured a glass of red wine and opened up the document on her computer.  She began reading:

 

“Tell me,” she said, “tell me what I am.”

“You’re a slut.”

“Yes,” she said, encouragingly.

“A whore.  A fucking sexmaniac.”

“Go on,” she moaned, biting her lower lip.  But I was too occupied with banging her from behind.  I needed to catch my breath.

“Tell me,” she demanded, “tell me what I am.”

“A cum-bucket.  A little cum-hungry tramp.”

“Yes,” she screamed.

“A sex addict.  A nymphomaniac!”

I slapped her ass hard as she screamed with delight.  Her wet little snatch secreted her luscious, warm juices all over my hard cock.

After she collapsed into the bed of blankets, I reached around her from behind and whispered in her ear, “Good girl.  That’s my good girl.”  She purred like a little kitten.

 

Artistic Tribute Photo

She felt a tingling between her legs.  She kept reading, taking small sips of wine as she felt her mouth watering.  As she continued, she felt something else getting wet.  She tried reading the words aloud, just to hear how they would sound in her voice.  Could she do the male lines?  It was narrated by Lola Down’s lover, H.H.  Was she the right voice for that?  Wouldn’t a man’s voice be more appropriate?  She tried it out, experimenting with various octaves and tones.  Clearly these two characters were American.  Should I pronounce “ass” the American way, or as I would pronounce it – “arse”?  Technical questions like these kept appearing, but she liked what she read.  She liked it a lot.  To her surprise, she especially enjoyed embodying the male narrator’s role.  Yes, she thought, yes, I’ll take this on.

A week later she was in her tiny makeshift “recording studio” – actually a closet with a light, a microphone, and her computer.  It was the most soundproof room of her flat.  She was in the middle of recording a story, “NYC,” about Lo and her raconteur’s trip to a strip club in Manhattan:

 

She slowly eased her way down Lo’s body, pressing her perky breasts and nipples directly in Lo’s face.  She took Lo’s hands and encouraged Lo to apply them to her body, caressing the dancer’s ass and legs.  As she slithered over Lo, she inconspicuously pulled Lo’s strapless dress down over Lo’s breasts, exposing them so that they could rub up against her own.  She then got down between Lo’s legs and gracefully pulled the hem of Lo’s dress up and up, rubbing her soft hands over Lo’s thighs and then sitting on Lo’s lap and rubbing her ass deep into Lo’s crotch.  All the while, Lo licked her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth in that sumptuous way that indicates that Lo is hungry.

 

 

Jupi found herself breathless.  She couldn’t continue with the narration.  There in the narrow confines of the darkened closet, she reached down under her skirt and panties and her fingers fondled the fount of her effulgent creativity.  She read the lines again and again in her mind and switched roles in her mind from being Lo to being the stripper to being H.H. observing it all.  The dance of subjectivity stimulated her mind as much as her digits released her pent-up puissance by penetrating her pulsating pink pussy.

Browsing the Literotica section

Wave after wave of relief and gratitude poured over her as her legs gave out and she slowly crumpled onto the now wet wooden floor of the closet, panting and heaving.  She opened the door to let in more air.  She desperately needed more air.

Eventually, she was able to finish recording the story.  She liked it so much that she wanted to share it, prematurely, with someone.  No, not with someone.  Not with anyone.  With H.  She needed to know his opinion of it.  Was it any good?  Was she any good as a narrator?  But there were so many doubts that accompanied her wish.  What if he didn’t like it?  What if he thought she was weird for even producing it?  What if he was turned on by Lola?

Ultimately her desire for validation and attention outweighed her insecurities and she hit “SEND” and immediately wished she could unsend it.

An excruciating day, then two days, then three days went by without a word from H.  She couldn’t record another page before hearing back from him.  She was in a frenzied state.  Why hadn’t he called, texted, emailed, something???

But, just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, there was an unexpected knock at her door.

A visitor?  No.  Couldn’t be.  Probably just a grocery delivery.  She hastily put on her robe and furtively opened the door.  There he was.  H.  Unannounced.  Unexpected.  Un-fuckig-believable!  She was ecstatic.  Jupi threw the door open wide and let him in.  But then she remembered the recording.  Was he here to break things off?

“Hi,” she said shyly, her nerves shot.

“Hi.”

“I wish I knew you were coming.  I would have. . .”

“I didn’t even know I was coming.  But I’ve been. . . I’ve wanted to. . . I just started driving and I found myself here.  I’ve been listening to your recording on repeat.”

“And?”

“Your voice is so fucking sexy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  I’ve been hard-up for days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to.  But I wanted to see you and tell you.”

“Way to drive a woman crazy!”

“Who wrote this?  Who is this Lola?”

Suddenly Jupi felt nervous again.  She felt butterflies in her stomach.  “What if?” questions started forming in her mind like they did before.  Incessant, annoying, pervasive questions filled with self-doubt and fear.  Her anxiety ramping up again.  She needed to get grounded.

“Come on in,” she said, taking his coat.  “Want a drink?”

She took out the wine and two glasses.  She let her robe drop, revealing her bare body just beneath the sheer negligée she was wearing under the robe.  It was sexy, but it was also comfy.  He looked at her, soaking in her visage.  She was a shy hermit full of inner life – sensual, spontaneous, artistic, creative, smart, witty, emotional, and most of all, madly in love with him.  Seeing her filled him with passion, just as the sound of her voice speaking those salacious sentences had made him crazed for three days.  Her flesh.  He wanted it.

She sat down next to him at the small kitchen table and opened her laptop.  She clicked on mysexlifewithlola.com and scrolled through the plethora of Lola’s porno pictures.

“Oh. . . oh. . . my,” he said slowly with long pauses in between exclamations.  “Um, wow!”  Images of Lola naked were replete on the screen.  But not just naked – naked with her 12 inch dildo, with her princess plug, with pearls on a string streaming from her ass, with her man, H.H., sucking his cock, filled with his cum, overflowing with the cum of other men, and stretching herself wide with one of the largest replicas of a horse cock H had ever seen!

“Yeah, she’s a handful,” said Jupi, resigned to sharing H’s attention with Lola.

“She reminds me of you,” he said, looking up at her downcast eyes.

“What?  Really?”

“Yes, if I had met you ten years ago.  I think she’s the spitting image of you.”

“Ten years ago?” Jupi echoed.

“Oh, no.  Come on.  I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You sure you don’t want some young sexy thing like Lo?”

“No, Jupi, I want you.”  He leaned in to kiss her.  Her stomach’s butterflies flew in a flutter, suddenly startled by the unexpected availability of his lips and everything else he brought to the table.

“I was just about to record another chapter.”

“Really?  Can I listen?”

“I don’t think you’ll hear much.  I record it in the closet,” she said.

“Which closet?”

“In the bedroom.”

“Oh.  Well, go right ahead.  I’ll just be lying on the bed.  Maybe I’ll hear something.”

They got up to go to the bedroom.  She took the computer and disappeared into the walk-in studio.  “Wait here quietly,” she said before shutting the door behind her.

She was just finishing up the story, “Horsing Around.”  She read loud enough for H to hear:

 

I was in jeans and I could feel my cunt getting totally saturated, soaking my panties through and through.  I spread my legs and rubbed his cock back and forth until finally he exploded.  It was a ginormous shot of cum over my head, but, as his cock slackened, he dripped some remaining cum down into my hair and on my face.  I had to unbutton my jeans and pull them and my panties down as I got on my knees.  As I sat under his dangling cock, I stroked my pussy till I too came in a giant puddle on the cement floor.

 

 

When Jupi was done with the story, she emerged from the closet.  She found H lying on his back, his trousers down around his ankles, his massive hard-on clenched in his right fist which stroked up and down from tip-to-base and back again.

“Could you hear?” she asked, astonished.

“MmmmmmGrrrrrrrrrAaaaaahhhhhhh,” was all he could say as his member erupted like a spewing volcano sending its warm lava all over the surrounding countryside and dribbling down its sheer cliffs, covering his hand in goo.  “Fuuuuck!”

“Did I do that?” asked Jupi innocently.

“You have the most sexy voice,” he answered.

Though flattered by his visceral standing ovation, Jupi was at least slightly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get any of her man’s patronage that day.  Never one to miss an opportunity, she got between his legs and licked up the mess he had made.

“Can I get an advance copy of that audiobook?” he asked.

Jupi smiled, looking up at H from between his legs.  “Of course,” she said.

After he left, she sent the audio files to him via email.

A few days later he texted her and said, “Jupi, you have no idea how happy you have made me.  I know that we can’t see each other, but I’ve been listening to your recording in the car every chance I get.  It’s incredible.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I’ve even started listening to it in bed.  I told my wife that it’s just a guided meditation to help me sleep, but, in fact, it has the opposite effect.  After she falls asleep, I pull out my cock and stroke to your voice.”

A week later he was at Jupi’s flat again.  This time they had an actual date planned.  After a small meal, they went into the bedroom and, lying down on the bed, he asked, “Can we, uh, listen to the audiobook?”

“But I’m right here,” Jupi replied.

“I know, but it turns me on.”

She agreed.

He had another request.  “Can I have you doggy style?”

“Yes.”

“And. . .”

“And what?”

“Never mind,” he said as she got on all fours on the bed and he stood next to it, ready to enter her from behind.

“What?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Can I put your laptop here?”

“Really?”

“I mean, I won’t if you. . .”

“No, go ahead.”

He placed the computer on her back, opened it up to Lola’s photos, and, listening to Jupi’s narration, entered her wet and waiting pussy.

Not Jupi, but a fan photo

 

Lo picked up her head and said, “Stroke it again as I rub my pussy.”  Lo leaned back across from Bill in the back seat and spread her legs wide.  Her right leg was lying on top of Bill’s knee.  She still had her cute little heels on.  Bill stroked his cock as he looked on, salivating, at Lo’s spread pussy.  With her left hand, Lo spread her pussy lips wide and with her right hand she was fingering her clit and her cunt.

Bill was treated to a feast for the eyes.  Lo came and came again to her own digital manipulation.  She so love’s to see men jerk off, but the only thing she loves more than that is to see them jerking off to her.  This Bill did with enthusiasm and then he started asking Lo, “I bet you want me to cum on your pussy, don’t you, you whore?”

“Oh yeah,” responded Lo in her low, deep, sexy, guttural voice.

“You want me to shoot my load all over that hot pussy, don’t you?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, do it,” she said in response as she continued to spread her legs and finger-fuck her pussy.

He got up from the seat and almost stood over her, frantically yanking at his cock.

“Come on, come on,” Lo encouraged, “cum on my pussy.  Come on.”  And then finally, in an explosion of cum that fell like rain all over Lo and her dress and her stomach and her pussy, he came and came and came and came some more.  Lo was shocked by how much he came on her.  She had never been drenched that much by a guy in her life. . . and she loved it.

 

As they listened to the story, they too came together. . . and loved it.

Lying next to each other, sprawled out on the mess of a bed, the computer screen still displaying Lo’s cum-covered body, H said, “You know, my wife has been listening to the stories as well.”

Lo Bathes in Beauty

“No,” Jupi said incredulously.

“Yes.  She found me out.  She discovered it wasn’t a ‘guided meditation.’  And so now, whenever she’s in the mood, she puts in her earbuds and listens with her computer open in front of her, while I go at her.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Jupi.

“I’m sorry.  Does that upset you?  I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, I can’t believe that little trollop.”

“Who?”

“You know who: Lola Down.  She’ll be getting off all of London before long.”

“No, dear, you’ll be getting them off with your voice.”

Thank you Lola.  Thank you Jupiter Grant.  Thank you H.  Thank you everyone who reads, listens, and gets off to these words dripping with love and lust, jizz and juices.  Thank you.

The End

The Body Politic

[An excerpt of the following appeared today in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, November, 2020 issue.  Waring, political stuff ahead.]

It’s November of an election year.  And not just any election year, but perhaps the most vitriolic, divisive, and ugly election year ever.  Well, except for 2016.  As I’ve stated before, this sacred, sexy space of ours, this small column in the vast expanse of contemporary writing, steers clear of politics, except for the fact that nothing is a-political anymore.  Writing about sex, celebrating sexuality, and depicting a strong, independent, sexually explicit woman like Lola Down is itself a political act.

Lola as depicted by Roman Doodle

But in this very politicized climate, it is nearly impossible to provide a playground where the ubiquitous partisan battles don’t bleed over the boundaries we have created.  People on the right have appropriated the term “cuck” as a pejorative for the left.  Queer men on the left have appropriated “Proud Boys,” to the consternation of that far-right group.  Just beneath the surface of these slogans and slurs is a swirl of sexual energy, frustration, confusion, and subliminal eroticism misdirected and perverted into hatred and violence.

Misogyny, racism, sexism, gender identity politics, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, and politization of polyamory are all interrelated issues, impossible to easily separate into isolated questions.

We live in strange times; times I never thought I’d see.  The President of the United States is a man married (his third marriage, mind you) to a woman born in a different country who had a career as a model, occasionally posing nude and with other nude women in homoerotic images.  And yet, he’s not a radical leftist liberal, but embraced by the conservative Christian right!  He has had numerous affairs with porn stars and other women, yet that hasn’t prevented him from gaining the backing of the Bible Belt.  But his exoneration by the religious right has not been equally applied.  Those who work in the sex industry were not similarly embraced or given the same shame-free-pass as the President.

In 2016 the first female presidential candidate was eviscerated, mainly for wearing a pantsuit.  Yet, in 2020, between Hope Hicks, Kayleigh McEnany, Ivanka Trump, Omarosa Manigault Newman, Mercedes Schlapp, Lindsay Walters, Zina Bash, the First Lady, and others, it is sometimes difficult to tell the difference between the White House and the Playboy Mansion.  Perhaps that is Trump’s appeal to many; he fills the void left by the death of Hugh Hefner.

Hope Hicks (Sorry Hope It's A Gentleman's Club) | Valentino gowns, Beauty, Hair

Hope Hicks gender bending at the W.H.

And all of this tumult and turmoil, not coincidentally, floats to the surface in the wake of eight years of an African American man occupying the White House.

I mention our current and past political theater as a preamble to confronting a porn/erotica trope as ubiquitous and with as long a history as that of the “Lolita” nymphomaniac figure.  I speak of the so-called “Mandingo Myth.”  This deep-seated belief, whose pedigree can be traced as far back as Ancient Greece and Egypt, holds that African men wield sexual appendages that dwarf those of fair-skinned Europeans.  Throughout the ages, the image of the hugely hung black man has been perpetuated as well as perverted in order to promote a racist agenda: The longer the penis, the more bestial the sex-drive, the less human the man and thus the greater the threat to white society, especially its womenfolk.  (See A Mind of Its Own: A Cultural History of the Penis, by David M. Friedman, chapter III, “The Measuring Stick.”)

Lo’s idea of a perfect date

Over the centuries, the long black appendage has been compared to a Priapus (that is, the male fertility god), a donkey, stallion, buck, and even a pre-Adam serpent of the Garden of Eden responsible for Eve’s seduction and the Fall.  Throughout the ages, but most prominently in America from Reconstruction onward, this archetype of the African American man’s exceptional endowment has been the focus of white fear and fetish, engendering multiple myths, none of them ending well for the African American man.  This theme is almost comically depicted in the various King Kong films, but most explicitly in the 1976 version.  Plot: The Petrox Oil Company seeks to plunder a remote island of its oil.  They find no natural resources to make their venture profitable, but they do find and trap King Kong, a preternaturally large black ape.  They return to the U.S. with their unusual cargo.  However, Kong has fallen in love with Dwan (a scantily clad, blonde woman played by Jessica Lange).  Unable to allow such an unfathomable relationship, Kong is killed.  (In the original 1933 version, he climbs the giant phallus, the Empire State Building.  In the ’76 remake, he climbs the World Trade Center buildings, thus doubling the phalli.)  The allegory is quite transparent: white colonialists set out for raw materials, they return with slaves from Africa whose unusual size threatens their white women and must be killed.

King Kong Jessica Lange 8x10 HD Aluminum Wall Art at Amazon's Entertainment Collectibles Store

Jessica Lange in King Kong 1976

A year earlier, in 1975, the same myth was played out, only without the allegorical trappings, in the film Mandingo, based on the 1957 novel by the same name, from which the “Mandingo Myth” gets its label, though its predecessors in white Western mythology predate it by millennia.

Lo and an admirer in the park

How do you measure up?

Unfortunately, today we still find this trope used as both the focus of taboo fetishes (“Blacked” porn, which fetishizes both black men with large cocks and white, usually blonde and petit, women) and phobias for political ends.  For instance, in 2017, Enrique Tarrio, the leader of the Proud Boys, posted a tweet in which he asked if white women would be more willing to donate $20 to Trump’s campaign or walk past a group of black men while wearing a sundress.  (The Daily Mail, 10/1/2020, “Leader of the Proud Boys is the State Director of Latinos for Trump”)

Lola’s fan

In today’s tribal public sphere, there is little we can agree upon, but one thing that is unimpeachable is, as David Friedman says, the one place where race and sex (and we can add politics) converge is the black penis.

Lola’s COVID Gang-Bang Datenight

The long black dong is the symbol of white, male fragility.  It signifies the fear of masculine inadequacy and the homoerotic desire for sexual prowess.  Both symbol and signifier are pointers and the thick, strong, dark schlong is frequently depicted as pointing at the helpless, weak, innocent white blonde.  Copulation by contrast.  This ubiquitous trope penetrates deep in the psyche of our culture.

Just as black men are often reduced to their primal virility as exemplified by the penis, so too women are subtly and explicitly made into a medium for the message communicated by the patriarchal culture.  In recent memory, the collective unconscious probably recalls images from silent black-and-white films of a damsel-in-distress tied to the railroad tracks by the sinister mustachioed villain.  This image is emblematic of an archetype that transcends time and space: the bound female.  Ancient stories span the globe of women tied up – as sacrificial victims, concubines, slaves – from the abduction of Sita in the Ramayana to the afore mentioned Dwan of King Kong and, of course, Princess Leia in her famous Jabba the Hut scene in Return of the Jedi (1983) – project and perpetuate the idea of women as victims in need of a hero.

Lola’s Sexy Shoes

From nude or nearly nude women dancing in cages at clubs, raves, and music concerts, to Taylor Swift reenacting the railroad scene in “Mean,” this trope is conspicuously depicted and sexualized, but there are far more nuanced ways of sending the same message.  What is the message?  Women are weak, needy, helpless, and their power, like Prometheus (an example of gender inversion of the architype) is under wraps.  Notice, if you will, women’s fashion, from undergarments to gowns.  What is a recurring theme?  Straps, bows, knots, strings, and all manner of imagery suggesting restraint while simultaneously revealing skin.  Beyond that, almost every article of clothing is designed to depict weakness, vulnerability, and impotence.  Watch your local or national news, for instance.  How are the men dressed?  Buttoned up shirts, ties, long sleeve jackets revealing the least skin possible.  They are formidable, as if wearing body armor.  And the women?  Blouses cut at the shoulder, plunging necklines, form-fitting soft colored tops.  Imagine for a moment what you would think of a male news anchor reporting in a halter-top made of thin, silky material.

Lola Upskirt

Beyond the blouses, there are the skirts.  Dresses were, perhaps, originally designed to conceal the shape of the woman hidden beneath all the folds and flourishes.  But today, dresses and skirts are designed to inhibit freedom of movement, conceal as little as possible, and leave the woman wearing them vulnerable to the inadvertent upskirt.

Lola in a cute little bow

Working our way down, we next arrive at women’s footwear.  High heels keep a woman off balance.  Not only do they prevent any aggressive action, they inhibit flight.  Women’s dress shoes, for the most part, make them a helpless victim in the face of any danger.  Beyond that, they continue the ligature leitmotif.  Straps, bows, chords, all depict the female foot in a shibari shoe.

Tied Up

It’s important to recall that liberating oneself from the cultural baggage one inherits by virtue of merely being born into a particular time and place is not accomplished by merely adopting the opposite position.  In the dialectical structure, inhabiting the antithesis merely reaffirms the thesis.  It does nothing to diminish the power of the thesis.  Rather, twisting free of the rigid and possibly oppressive cultural constraints is a tricky and subtle art.  It requires first understanding the nature of one’s servitude and then becoming master of it.

Lola is by no means exempt from our culture’s conventions any more than you or I.  However, she does like to play with the tropes and taboos just the way that a good composer doesn’t merely adhere to the rules of the times, but will surprise and delight by contorting them in unexpected patterns.

Lola’s Cock

Of course, in our relationship there is the patent hotwife – cuck/stag – bull roles to be played.  But we emphasize the play of that is inherent in any roleplaying.  Lo has her soft spot for knots (of all variety) and strappy heels, dresses, bras, panties, and even corsets.  She also has her wet spot for BBC.  But it also delights her to wear her strap-on, to wield her cock, and to fuck like a man.  Call her a switch if you wish.  She also oogles and drools over the many fan photos she gets from black bulls endowed with length, girth, and heft she has rarely met in the flesh.  But she also loves her male trans fans who send photos of themselves in their wives’ panties or cumming in their pantyhose.  For, when it comes to sex, the one rule that holds is that nothing is essentially anything.  Existence precedes essence, as the Existentialists mantra goes, meaning, before we had determined male/female, man/woman, straight/queer, black/white, there were just people doing stuff.  Their names, definitions, categories, and expectations of norms all came later.

TV fan of Lola

 

 

 

These observations are meant neither to condemn nor condone the complex cultural code with regard to BBC or BDSM as it manifests in veiled, seemingly innocuous symbols such as popular movies and fashion.  Rather, this thought piece is more along the lines of semiotics (the study of signs and symbols in culture) than a cultural critique.  Signs and symbols perform a function; they point at something.  In this piece, the sign/symbol with which we began was the black penis, which is, innately and ironically, also a pointer.  Perhaps it is pointing at our radical possibility for the future.  I simply wanted to point that out.

Smaller Big Fan of Lola

Asses Up

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Dutiful Niece.”  We apologize for any delay and concern that the delay may have caused. Working on being more consistent content creators.]

“I don’t think this is a story I can tell,” I said to Lo as we were driving back home from the bizarre weekend in the mountains with Lily, Jim, Lily’s Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne.

“It sure did get weird fast,” she remarked, looking with a vacant stare out the window as the scenery streaked by.

“The whole thing was weird,” I remarked.

“That’s true,” she said, “but it got even more so once you got there.”

A little background may be in order here, dear reader.  Lily and Jim are our very good friends from home.  They’re married.  Lily is Lo’s age and of her same temperament.  Jim is slightly older, with a few hang-ups.  Lily’s Uncle Collin had invited the four of us up to his lake house in the mountains for a week but, due to our work schedules, only Lily and Lo could join him for the first five days.  During that time, Collin hit hard on Lo and Lo lapped it up, returning his advances with explicit flirtations.  Lily, during this whole extramarital exchange, reassured Lo that Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne “had an understanding” and that it was fine.

Because Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne have separate bedrooms and the former sleeps alone and the latter with her two dogs, the night before Jim and I were to arrive, Lo finally “slept” with Uncle Collin.  But it literally was just sleeping together because, as she found out that night, Uncle Collin, virile as he is, he is also impotent and suffers from E.D. due to an accident that injured his spine two decades ago.

The next morning, when Lo confronted Lily about this, it was revealed that Lily was a coconspirator with Uncle Collin to help him gave the female companionship he so long to enjoy with Lo.  But, not only that, it turned out that Lo was only the latest in a long string of sexy young friends whom Lily had enticed to spend “quality time” with Uncle Collin.

Saturday morning, Jim and I were headed straight for the eye of this swirling sordid affair.

Just to add even more spice to the already simmering pot, he and I were hard-up from a long five days apart from our respective hotwives and I had just come off of a terrible week, losing my big case that Friday.

I was so wrapped up in my own need to reconnect with Lo and my own dark and stormy cloud from the past week, that I hadn’t even put thought to how horny Lo would be, or Lily for that matter.  The last I had heard, Lo, Lily, and Collin had gone to a resort on Thursday and so I had no idea that Lo wasn’t getting her fill of good fucks by Uncle Collin there.  But I had heard from my reliable informant about Lily’s big reveal that she adheres to the ‘A.O.L.’  (Anal Only Lifestyle.)  A fascinating little tidbit of knowledge that had piqued my curiosity.

After we stopped for coffee and a quick breakfast sandwich at a highway rest stop, we were on the road for a good couple of hours.  Once we were a good distance outside the city, as the sun was burning off the morning mist, we saw some horses over in the field on the side of the road.

“You remember last time we all saw Uncle Collin?” asked Jim, slightly bemused by the horses.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Remember what we did?”

“You mean the candle lit therapy session?”

“No,” he said, snapping out of it.  “I mean the breeding farm he took us to.”

“Oh yeah, for his ‘prized stallion,’” I said, a little snarky.

“Yeah,” said Jim.  “Lo was really fascinated by that,” he remarked.  Clearly the experience had stuck with him.

“She’s a size queen,” I blurted out as a half joke, but immediately regretted it when I recalled Jim’s own diminutive size.

He turned to look at me with a quizzical expression.  “Then why does she like me?” he asked, genuinely.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she both pities him and also loves to tease, so I said simply, “She thinks you’re cute.”

He let it drop and resumed his original line of questioning.  “So being a ‘size queen’ extends to other species?” he asked, getting to the point.

“To be honest, I think she’s just mesmerized by cock.  All cock.  She enjoys the power she exerts over it.  The power to make it hard, to make it cum, to put someone under her power of seduction.  It’s a power trip to her.  And part of that power trip is also the power that she feels by knowing she can take something so incredibly large.  Call it ‘the power of the puss’ if you want,” I said, laughing to myself about the turn of phrase.

All Cocks

“Has she ever. . .” began Jim, not able to even ask the question.

“Is this our turnoff?” I asked, evading his question.

He looked at his phone to check the map and he said, “The girls are asking if we will be eating breakfast with them.”

“When will we get there?”

“E.T.A. is about 11:00,” he said.

“Let’s plan on lunch.”

“Turn here,” he said.

As I got in the right lane, I saw the sign that read, “EXIT ONLY.”  It made me think of a woman I once knew who was adamantly anti-anal sex and remarked to me, “That is an exit only orifice.”  I chuckled to myself and thought of what a dirty old man I am and how Lily’s “Anal Only Lifestyle” is not a turnoff, but a real turn-on for me.

“Did our session by candlelight help you and Lily?” I asked, venturing into a topic he hadn’t revisited with me since that fateful night.  I suspect he had “confessor’s remorse” after admitting that he didn’t know how to fully please her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you two talk about bringing a bull into the relationship or a little BDSM?”

“It’s more complicated than that.  She’s different than you think.”

“How so?”

“I mean, you know that, like you two, we’re in an open relationship.”

“Yeah.”

“But, unlike Lo she. . . .”  He trailed off.

“Jim we’ve known each other a long time.  You’ve been with Lo.  Lily has been forthright and open with us.  There’s nothing you should feel inhibited from telling me.  I hate to pull this card, but I’m older.  Maybe I have some sage advice.”

“Lily has a Catholic girl hang-up about sex,” he finally blurted out.

“What?!  Other than Lo, she’s one of the most openminded people I know.”

“It’s true.  She’s never had sex.  We’ve never had sex, properly.”

“OK, now I know you’re putting me on.”

“I wish it was a joke, but it’s not.  She grew up being told that sex is wrong, sex is bad, and girls who engage in sex are doomed to Hell.”

“But they only say that about fornication – sex outside of the marriage.”

“Well, that’s how she got started before marriage and, I guess, she still likes it that way.”

“How do you feel about that?” I ventured to ask, fully aware that I was treading over delicate, as if hiking along a cliff that could fall through at any moment.

It was as if a switch went off in his mind.  This normally mild-mannered, easy-going guy became enraged.  “I fucking hate it!” he blurted out.  “It’s so fucking dumb.  We’ve been married almost a year now and every fucking time I want to fuck her, she flips over on her belly and sticks her ass in the air, spreads her ass cheeks and says, ‘I’m ready for you now.’  What the fuck?!  Why can’t we just have real, loving intercourse?”  He punched the glove compartment.

“Hey, take it easy,” I said, concerned about the damage he was doing to my car and that he’d set off the airbag.

“Sorry, but this has been frustrating me since. . . well, since forever.”

“Have you talked with her about it?”

“Of course I have.”

I felt stupid even asking him, since he was so abrupt with his reply.

“I’m sorry, H, but. . .”

“I understand, Jim.  You and I, we’re both frustrated.  We haven’t seen Lo or Lily in five days and. . .”

“Yeah, how are you doing with that?” he interrupted to ask.

“With what?”

“With her being around Uncle Collin?”

“Whatever,” I said, dismissively and disingenuously since that thought had been consuming me for days now.

“I forgot, you don’t get jealous about her fucking other guys,” he said, as if bating me.

“As long as she’s honest about it,” I said, continuing to dissemble.

Soon we were pulling down a long dirt road leading to the cottage.

“I’ll text Lily that we’ll be there in a minute.”

“OK,” I said, feeling tense with no appetite other than for Lo.

We pulled up to the circular driveway in front of the picturesque villa.  I parked the car and Jim, who had been there before, let me around back to the deck where the girls and Collin and Suzanne, as well as the two dogs, were relaxing.

Lo and Lily were both naked as they day they were born.  They got up, their tits swinging and jiggling, their asses looking sweetly tanned, their unabashed display of their bodies admirable.  I saw how Collin watched Lo and his niece greet us as we appeared on the deck.  His eyes carefully watched ever move, every gesture, every subtle sign, deciphering its meaning and adducing the nature of the relationship.  He was a limp snake in the grass.  But, mind you, at that point, I still was in the dark as to what had transpired between him and Lo.

I wanted nothing more at that moment than to sweep Lo off of her bare feet and bring her to the bedroom (or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or really anywhere, even right there!) and discover all her stories while plumbing her depths with my philosophically penetrating apparatus.

A Case of the Mondays

A Case of the Mondays

Got the Horses in the Back

“Tonight I’m going out to dinner with some friends,” she said to me in the morning after I got out of the shower.

“OK.”

“I’m going to take the subway downtown from work.”

“How are you going to get to work?”

“That’s where you come in.”

“What?”

“You’ll give me a ride to work.”

“I will?”

“Yeah.  I’ll make it worth your while,” she said as she spread her legs and stroked her labia.

“Are you proposing sex in exchange for a ride to work?”

“You give me a ride and I’ll give you a ride.”

I looked at her pussy.  She said, “What?”

“Now I see where I cum in.”

“That’s right, Daddio.  That’s where you cum in.”

“I wonder what you tell your Uber drivers.”

“We’ll find out tonight.”

Naked and still dripping wet from the shower, I got into bed with her.  She was dripping wet for other reasons.  I came within seconds.

“That was so quick.  I hardly even warmed up,” she complained.

“I got what I bargained for.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen to make breakfast.”

“But, I want you.”

“You just had me.”

“I want you more.”

“Sorry, babe, there is no more.”

“But I need to get fucked.”

“I just fucked you.”

“I mean really fucked.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy.”

“I need a cock that can complement my cunt.  Reach in the closet and grab my Remus.  I’m going to ram that baby home so far that tonight I’ll be so stretched I won’t even feel a human cock in me.”

“Oh, we’re having sex again tonight?  Very presumptuous of you.”

“I’ll be having sex, but I didn’t say it would be with you.”

I passed her the giant box containing her horse-cock dildo and went into the living room where I turned on “Old Town Road.”

Yeah, I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road
I’m gonna ride ’til I can’t no more
I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road
I’m gonna ride ’til I can’t no more

I got the horses in the back

I heard screams from down the hall.  She was calling for me.  I went into the bedroom and found her backing into the flared phallus attached to the headboard.

“That was fast,” I said, “It took me longer to make toast.”

Though she had already cum, she said, “I want your cock.”

“But we have to leave soon.”

“That’s ok, I want it to go.”

“To go?  But you’re naked, filled to the hilt with an equine appendage.”

“I want it to go in my mouth.”

I humored her by unzipping my pants and pulling out my flaccid cock which she eagerly and easily cupped along with my balls orally.  Her mouth came off of me with a ‘pop’ sound and she said, “Pass me the other dildo.”

Reached under the bed and pulled out her double-ended 16” toy and she licked it before manipulating it into her ass.

“Did you have breakfast?” she asked, looking up at me as she eased back on both dildos.

“I’m making it now,” I said.

“Well, I can be your double-stuff dessert.”

“I’ll leave you three to get better acquainted,” I said as I went to tend to my food.

Later, as she was getting dressed, she said “What are you looking at?”

“Your puss.”

“Well, you already got yours.”

“And you already got yours.”

“That thirty seconds?  Believe me, it was nothing to write home about.”

“You write home about sex?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“I don’t.”

“No, you write books about sex.”

She was dressed and ready to go in about two minutes.  “By the way,” she said, “you’ll have to change all the sheets later.  I’d strip the bed myself, but I’m late.”

“I’ve never known you to pass up stripping for anything.”

“Well, there’s a reason why they call it Masturbation Mondays.”

“Who calls it that?”

“I do.”

“I’ve heard of Manic Monday, a case of the Mondays, and Sunday Scaries, but never Masturbation Mondays.  Why do you call it that?”

“Cause, every Monday I have to continue my masturbatory sessions at work.”

“Of course you do.  What about Tuesdays and Wednesdays?”

“Well, pretty much any day I go to work that ends in ‘y’.”

We were in the car on the way to her office and we hit a ton of traffic.  Pissed at how much time I was taking out of my morning to drive her, I said, “Wow, you got a lot of work out of me for only thirty seconds of play.”

“The shorter the fuck, the more I should get for it.”

Impressive Size

[Prequel to Breeding Farm]

“It’s so big!” gasped Lo.  “It’s beautiful.  Stunning.  I just can’t believe it.”  She truly was impressed.  We had just pulled up in the driveway of Lily’s uncle’s mountain resort home.  Her uncle was traveling around Europe and, since Lily was one of his favorites, he gave her permission to use it and to host friends.  We happened to be the friends that she and Jim chose to invite up for a long weekend.

The air was crisp and the sky was clear and blue and radiant.  All the trees on the mountain were in their peak of autumn perfection.  We had the whole secluded house to ourselves.

Lily showed us around the grounds and gave us a tour of the home.  Then she showed us to our quarters.  The bed was enormous!  The bathroom and bathtub were almost as big!!!  This would be fun.  Lo and I looked at each other knowingly, expectantly.

Since it took us quite a while to get up there, winding through the dangerous mountain switchbacks, we made some dinner and then had some drinks.  We were all tired from the trip and Lo and I were eager to get to bed and get to each other.

Lo All Wet

She got naked and hopped into the clear glass encased shower as I drew a bath in the tub.  From inside her little chamber, she pressed her tits up against the glass and then turned and pressed her ass up against it as she used the hand-held showerhead to massage between her legs.

She came a couple of times, struggling to keep her screams to herself.  Then she emerged from the shower and slid her sexy self down upon my hard cock as I lay half-submerged in the water of the claw-foot white porcelain tub.

We had to be careful because we didn’t want to make too much noise or too much mess.  When she had finished cumming in reverse cowboy position, she turned and descended on my spear once more, this time facing me.  Grabbing her tits and pulling her nipples, she asked me, “Shall I be a good girl this weekend, Daddy, or a bad girl?”

“You’re already a bad girl,” I said, “so, you might as well not deny your nature.”

She came again and then urged me to get up and out and dry off so we could enjoy one another in the plush bed.  Bent over the side; face down in the down pillows; on her knees straddling me – we explored many positions, before she finally opted for being bent over a chair and seeing herself in the full-length mirror as I made her tits swing with my thrusts from behind her.

Just as we were both approaching the pinnacle of success in this position, she commanded, “Stop!”  She wasn’t kidding.  I did as she bade me.  “Get a towel and put it on the floor.”

I followed her command.  The towels were thick and heavy and the floor was wall-to-wall carpet.

“Get behind me and keep going, only harder.”

I again followed her command and within moments her clenching climax had pushed my member right out and she was squirting what seemed to be gallons on the towel beneath her.

She collapsed and said, breathlessly, “I knew that was going to happen.”

The next morning, after I had made everyone breakfast, we headed out on a hike.  I happily pulled up the rear, right behind Lo, whose behind, in her black athletic tights, was the best inspiration for me to keep going.

Lo – Tight

It was an exhilarating trek through the crisp air of the mountain tops.  The sights and the thrills were worth the exertion.

When we got back to the house, we were famished and we heated up a big pot of chili we had prepared before the trip.

We then settled into our vacation home and after a few glasses of wine, Jim suggested a game of cards.  We decided on poker and I raised the stakes by suggesting strip poker.  Lo kicked me under the table.  I didn’t know why at the moment.

Our friends were game and we got to playing.  Little did everyone (except Lo) know, but I’m a terrible poker player.  I can never keep straight which is the better hand.  Lo took pity on me and helped me all she could, to her own detriment.  She did her level best of spying on my cards to help me, to discard her good hand, to lift me up by lowering herself.  Doing that was tougher than actually winning!  But before too long, she was shirtless, sockless, and then pantless.  Not to be outdone by her rival, Lily went garment-for-garment with Lo.  After only a couple of rounds they were both braless.  It came down to a question of who was going to lose her panties first: Lo or Lilly?  You guessed it!  Lo was out and in her birthday suit.  She seemed more than happy to be the loser of the game.

During the hour or so that it took for Lo to win or lose, depending on how you’re scoring this, we had finished a bottle of wine and Jim and I had broke the seal on our special bottle of Scotch.

Eager to keep playing, Lo suggested that since she had no more clothes to offer, we play for certain “favors.”  These new rules started out tame enough.  First Lo had to bend over to pick up a napkin.  Then she had to get up and walk around the table to refresh my glass and Jim’s glass, with a little curtsy of course.  She had to remove Lily’s panties when Lilly lost.  But soon we moved on to having Lo’s writs be tied up around one of the support beams in the room as she bent over.  We found a riding crop that Lily’s uncle used as a decorative prop, and we used it, each taking turns swatting Lo’s ass and occasionally her pussy from behind.  Lily was the cruelest with the crop.  But then we gave Lo some aftercare.  Each of us got a turn fingering her from behind.  She came almost immediately for each of us.  After Lily’s turn (she went last), Lo pressed her legs together and commanded me to grab a towel, as she had the previous night.  When I had spread it at her feet, she spread her legs and looked as if she was putting out a fire from between her thighs!

“Holy shit!” cried Lily.  “I’ve never seen that actually happen in real life!!!”  She seemed thrilled.

Lo slowly slunk to the floor, exhausted.  She looked up, a smile on her face, a bit proud, her legs spread in a ‘V’ shape, and a puddle underneath her.  “Really?” she asked.

“It happens all the time to Lo,” I chimed in.

“I’ve read about it, I’ve seen it in videos, but never actually saw a woman squirt.  How do you do it?”

“I don’t do it.  It just happens.  Talent, I guess.”

Lily untied Lo’s wrists and helped her up.

“Do you think you could show Lily how to do that?” asked Jim, turning the tables on his bride, since she had been eager to have Lo teach Jim how to pleasure a woman despite his diminutive size.

“I know a lot of people claim to be able to teach it,” said Lo, “and there are a lot of websites out there dedicated to how to make a woman squirt, but I don’t know.  I only know that it works for me when I’m super aroused.”

“It’s more of a problem than a talent,” I said.

Lo frowned at me.  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Come on, Lo,” I said, “you know that you sometimes accidentally squirt at very inconvenient times.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

“And the number of sheets we have to go through. . .”

“Yeah, it makes for a lot of laundry.”

“And how you shoot me right out of you mid-coitus.”

“That’s true too,” she admitted.

“I don’t need to squirt,” interrupted Lily, “I just would like to cum when having sex.”  She blurted it out and I could see that Jim’s request of Lo and Lo’s performance clearly were making her feel inadequate and so she turned the tables right back on Jim.

“Look,” said Lo, always the peace maker, “I have an idea to help everyone.  I’ve done this before, or a variation of this.  I’m already naked.  Why don’t we all get naked, light a candle, sit in a circle, and speak openly, honestly, candidly about sex, love, and relationships.  As long as the light of the candle is illuminating our circle, there is no judgment, no accusation, no falsity.  We will be vulnerable and compassionate with each other.  Our nudity is only an outward symbol of our inward vulnerability.”

Lily looked at Jim and he nodded his head that he was willing to give it a go.

We all got naked and for the first time I got a view of the little that Lilly had to work with.  Jim’s physique is fit, trim, and small.  Attractive, but tiny.  I’m not hung like a horse (horse cock being something Lo dearly likes), but compared to Jim I was.  I had to remind myself, by the candlelight, there is no judgment.  Right.

We all sat down in a circle with the candle at the center.  Jim and I were cross-legged and both Lola and Lily, being more flexible, sat full lotus position.

Lola started us off, “Sex is good, but sex without meaning, without connection, without intimacy can be empty and leave you cold.”

As Lo said these words, I couldn’t help but think of all the times she fucked guys, strangers, in the back seat of the car as I drove, or at the beach as men came all over her body, or. . . .  Wait, I reminded myself again, no judgment.  Got it.

“Yeah,” said Lily, picking up the thread of the conversation, “that’s true, but sometimes, while having that meaningful connection, I just want to get rammed home with a long, hard cock.  I want to submit to a domineering, rough, take-command partner.  That can be both hot and intimate.”

“Jim?” asked Lo.

“I know she likes that, but it’s just not me.  I’m kind, gentle by nature.  I love her.  I don’t want to. . .” he trailed off, not even able to articulate the deeds she wanted done to her.

“That’s totally understandable,” said Lo, “but there is a major gap between her desire and yours, or her idea of intimate intercourse and yours.”

“It’s clear you love each other,” I said, “but do you trust each other?”

“Completely,” said Lily right away.

Jim just nodded.

“If you trust each other,” I followed up my thought, “then maybe an open relationship.  Having a bull who will come over and do for Lily all the things she wants and needs could expand your relationship pallet.”

“A bull?” asked Jim naively.

“A man who fucks married women,” explained Lily.  She obviously had explored this herself.

“H.H. does that with me,” said Lo, “and he loves it.”

“I like to see her satisfied,” I said.  “If she likes to be fucked by another guy, then why should I stand in her way?”

“Come on,” said Lo, to me as if calling bullshit.  “You are not simply standing to the side while another guy fucks my brains out.  You love it.  You love to see it and to guide him through it and to hear all about it if you can’t be there in person.”

“She’s right,” I confessed.  “Honesty.”

Jim, who was very visibly uncomfortable by everything he was hearing, said, “I just don’t think I can do that.  I mean, we’ve given an open relationship a chance and it drove me crazy.  I almost called off the wedding because I was so enraged and jealous.”

“Jealously is a symptom, not a cause,” said Lo.

“A symptom of what?”

“Of so many things – a feeling of inadequacy, a fear of being left, anger with a previous girlfriend who hurt you.  I mean, it could stem from any number of deep-seated insecurities.  But mainly it’s a form of fear.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real.  Understanding it doesn’t remove it,” said Jim.

“No, you’re right.  I’m just pointing out that what you’re feeling doesn’t stem from what Lily is doing.  She loves you.  But she also has desires.  She wants to be with you.  But she also wants to have wild, earth-shattering orgasms.”

“And I want to be used, abused, humiliated, and tossed aside like a worthless fuckdoll” said Lily.

There was an awkward silence before Lo said, very reassuringly, “All healthy desires if channeled properly.”

I decided to be daring.  “Would you like me to demonstrate?” I asked, knowing full well that Lo’s jealousy would explode inside her heart like a hydrogen bomb.

“I’d love it,” said Lily looking at my limp cock.

Lo gave me a sidelong glance and said, “I don’t think right now is the time for that.  We’re making progress.”

“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t mean now.  I just meant. . .”  I was caught now, but it was worth it to get Lo’s ire up after that perfectly detached and clinical explanation of jealousy she just pronounced as if she were so far beyond and above it.  But I felt bad immediately after because it suddenly dawned on me that she might not have been talking from a superior position to jealousy, but from her intimate knowledge and understanding of it within her own heart.

As if to strike back at me, she then said, “Jim, I feel as if you’re bottling up your emotions and not letting them flow out.  What can I do to help you?”  As she said this, she caressed his knee with her left hand.  I saw his cock twitch at the unexpected touch.

“I just feel like I don’t know how to please her.”

Lo’s hand moved closer to his crotch.  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“I want to find a way that I can be everything she needs,” he said.

Lo’s hand got to his balls and began fondling them as his micropenis started to grow.

“We cannot be everything for our partners.  We have to be content with who and what we are for them and who and what they are for us.”  She began stroking his little cock with her thumb and index finger.  “Do you like that?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” he said, “it feels good.”

“Lie down,” said Lo.

He reclined on the carpet as Lo continued to jerk him off.  Her right hand was caressing his legs, spreading them apart.  Her left hand gently held his little member between her thumb and finger.

“You know, I wouldn’t even feel you if you were to penetrate me,” said Lo.

“I know,” said Jim as if in a hypnotic trance.

“But that wouldn’t matter to you, would it?” asked Lo.

“No,” said Jim, “I’d be really into it.”

“I know you would,” said Lo.

From where I was sitting, I could see Lily begin to stroke her pussy as she continued to sit in the lotus position.  She was enjoying this.

Lo lowered her mouth to Jim’s cock and tickled the tip with the tip of her tongue, clearly in order to let us see what she was doing.  Then she lifted up her mouth and said, “Don’t cum.”

“I’m trying not to cum, but it’s so hard.  It feels so good.”

“Stand up,” commanded Lo.

Jim stood up.

Lo pulled him forward and positioned him next to Lily as Lo, still on her knees, manipulated his tiny pud with her fingers.

“Close your eyes,” Lo said.

Jim closed his eyes.

Lo stroked faster and faster and lifted her mouth to his little balls to kiss and lick them.

“You may cum now,” she said, and no sooner did she say this than he came, right on Lily’s face.

“Open your eyes,” said Lo to Jim.

He followed her command and looked down at Lily who was covered in his ejaculate and smiling.

“There you go,” said Lo.  “Did you like that?”

Both of them said “Yes” at the same time.

By the way, I was hard as a rock at this point and I finally said, “Lo, any chance I will get to cum?”

“Oh, are you hard-up?” she said in a mocking manner.

“Yes.”

“Do you deserve to cum?” she asked with a look in her eye that told me I was being punished for my comment earlier.

“I sure do,” I said confidently.

She was feeling surly, but despite that, she indulged me and she told me to lie back.

I followed her instruction.  To my surprise, instead of doing to me what she had done to Jim, she sat on my face.  She was facing my toes and she invited Lily over as I began lapping Lo’s wet pussy lips like a thirsty dog.

Lily grabbed my cock and balls (I could tell it was Lily, though I couldn’t see her, because I know Lo’s touch) and began furtively fondling.  Then she began to jack me off.  I felt a mouth lower on my cock, but now I wasn’t too sure whose it was.  Lost in the mystery of it all, I gave in and came in heavy, forceful spurts.  Lo came as well, drenching my face.  I practically drowned.

When she got up and I sat up, Lily said, “You come almost as quickly as Jim does.”

“That’s not fair,” I said in my defense, “I’ve been watching Lo for over an hour now.  I was primed and ready.”

“Ready to be pumped dry,” said Lo.

“Well,” said Jim, “I think we all got something out of this.”

“Um,” said Lily, “of the four of us, three of us came.”

“Well Jim,” said Lo, “you got some work to do.”

Jim smiled and asked Lily, “Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

Lo looked at him, got up, exited the room into the mud room and returned with one of the dog leashes that was hanging there.  She put the collar around Lily’s neck and gave the handle to Jim.  “That’s not how you ask a slut like Lily.  Take her upstairs.”

Jim stood up and gently pulled on the leash.  Lily got on all fours and crawled like an obedient bitch at his side.  Off they went.

“Well done,” I said to Lo.

“Don’t give me that ‘well done’ bullshit.  You’re in big trouble mister.”

“Me?” I said innocently, “What did I do?”

“You know very well what you did.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.  I just want you to admit it.”

“OK, so maybe I tried to suggest that I do something with Lily.  But look at what you actually did with Jim.”

“There is no comparison.”

“How not?’

“Because I’m your slutty hotwife and you are my obedient, chaste, little stag.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

“No.  Actually I wouldn’t.  I was just teasing you to see if you would be jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.  I just want you to know your place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And where is my place?”

“Right between my legs.”

 

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