Feedie for a Night

A.I. Lola

“Daddy,” said Lo one morning as I was tying my tie and just about ready to leave for work.

“Yes?”

“Am I free this Friday?”

“Lo, you are always free.  Free and easy.”

“I mean, do we have any plans?”

“Not that I know of.  Why?”

“I have an admirer.”

“You have many admirers, Lo, and I’m your biggest admirer.”

“Depends on your metric for size,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“You know that I’ve had bigger, right?”

“I wasn’t speaking of my anatomy,” I said.  “I have to go.”

“But Daddy,” she pouted, “I didn’t tell you about Friday yet.”

“Out with it.”

“So bossy.  I like it.  Rrrrrrrrrr.”  She rolled her ‘R’ with her tongue to make a revving sound.

“What is Friday?”

“Well, it seems that your story, ‘A Linguistically Mysterious Voyage into the Unknown’ got the attention of one of my fans.”

“Probably many fans.”

“And this particular fan wants to take me out.”

“On a date?”

“Yes, on a date.”

“Did you vet him first?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Well, he’s not exactly my type.”

“Lo, everyone who is into you is your type.”

“That’s just what I mean.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure he can get into me.”

“I’m sorry, you lost me.”

“He is morbidly obese and, to make matters worse, he has a tiny penis.”

“You really performed quite the thorough vetting process.”

“Proper research is a must.”

“But you still want to go out with him?”

“He read that story and he said that he has a fetish for feedies.”

“Oh, he’s a chubby chaser.”

“He read about you calling me fat.”

“Is that ‘phat’ with a ‘p-h’ or ‘fat’ with an ‘f’?”

“I don’t know.  You wrote it.”

“Just checking.”

“Anyhow, he said he would simply like to get dinner and a movie.”

“He wants to see you eat?”

“Apparently.”

“And how do you feel about it?”

“You know me.”

“Biblically.  But I’m afraid I don’t know what that means in this context.”

“I’m a ‘trysexual.’  I’ll try anything at least once.”

“So you are willing to indulge this guy’s fetish for feeding you?”

“It’s rare I meet a kink I don’t like.”

“Well, suit yourself then.  Just be safe.”

“OK.  Love you!”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Pet the cat.”

“We don’t have a cat.”

“You know what I mean.  Pet.  The.  Cat,” she said as she patted her pussy with her right hand.

“And then what?”

“Feed the kitty.”

“Feed the kitty?”

She grabbed the double-ended dildo out from her nightstand drawer.

Lo and her Toys

“Oh,” I said, comprehending.  “No work today?”

“I have a Zoom meeting in fifteen minutes?”
“Do you have enough time before the meeting to both pet the cat and feed the kitty?”

“Who said I have to get all that done before the meeting?”
“You’re certainly not going to do it during the meeting?”

“Oh, Daddy!  You have such stodgy standards.”

“Well, just don’t become the next female Jeffry Toobin.”

As I was putting on my shoes, I saw her put on a white, business-attire blouse over her bare breasts.  Her breasts could be seen swinging from side-to-side as she moved.  She grabbed her suction-cup dildo and affixed it to the work chair she had in her special home work station, and she slid her naked bottom down onto the dildo while setting up her computer for the Zoom meeting.

“Have a good day at work,” she said over her shoulder.

“Enjoy your meeting,” I replied, closing the door behind me.

Lo looked forward to Friday with much anticipation.  Her chub-chaser admirer, whom we shall call Mr. Biggs, was quite the control freak.  With each passing day he gave Lo ever greater detailed instructions for how she should dress and prepare for their meeting.

All week long, Lola was popping out to the shops to buy this skirt, that top, these heels, those panties, etc.  Each day when she received a different instruction, description of an item, or photo of specific piece, she’d tell or show me, then she’d go on her scavenger hunt to find said object, bring it home, and try it on for me.  I can’t say that I found any of this objectionable, except that she was taking orders from another man.

Each night she would fantasize about her date while riding me.  She’d articulate out loud her vivid imagining of how it would go.  I’ll elide over these various fantasies since frequently I wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer than, “Then we’d sit down to dinner. . .” before I’d explode inside her and she would have to resort to her Hitachi and her silent imagination to bring herself to a not so silent orgasm.

Finally the Friday date night arrived and Lola put on exactly what Mr. Biggs had ordered – black, patent leather strappy heels, nylon stockings, a short black leather skirt, a white, transparent top, no bra, and a short black leather jacket.  She spent a good amount of time blowing out her silky, shiny black hair, doing her makeup and making sure her manicure and pedicure were perfect.  I was somewhat suspicious of all this preparation.  I mean, she was doing this date as a sort of whimsical frolic – to be another man’s feedie for a night.  But Lo took her role seriously and, no matter the paramour, she aimed to impress.  Was she trying to impress her date, those in the restaurant, or to make me jealous?  She was probably going for all three and I had no doubt she’d succeed.

Lola’s Date Night Outfit, A.I.

Mr. Biggs also aimed to impress.  He spared no expense on his date.  He chose one of the finest restaurants in town – one which had a commanding view of the city’s skyline.  A perk of remaining anonymous as a writer is that when Lo goes on these dates, I am able to keep tabs on her by sitting at the bar without concern that her part-time lover will suspect anything since there is no way I could be recognized as the man on whom Lo is cheating.

I went up the elevator up to the restaurant on the 29th floor first and I walked into the full, but oddly quiet, even staid establishment and took a seat at the bar.  This was an expensive, fancy restaurant where people spoke quietly and politely.  Most of the patrons were over fifty, dressed formally, and not one of them looked like they were having a good time.  It seemed more of a duty or a chore to go through the motions of eating dinner than having a fun night out with one’s partner, or paramour, however the case may be.

I was situated on a stool at the corner of the bar, the better to see wherever my Lo and her date were seated.  I looked around the room and didn’t see Mr. Biggs, whom I would have recognized from his photos that Lo insisted he send prior to agreeing to the date.  He was at least 300 pounds and there was no way he would have simply blended in with the crowd if he was already in the restaurant.  I became worried however, because none of the tables for two were empty or had the little “reserved” card on them.  Where would they sit?  Would I be able to see them?  I saw the elevator doors open and Lola walk up to the hostess, telling her the name for the reservation.

The hostess walked Lola over to a four-top and seated her, saying the rest of her party should be there soon.  Lola looked very much out of place in this stuffy dining room with its fancy China and white linen tablecloths.  Her black leather skirt and matching leather jacket, contrasting with her see-through white t-shirt (no bra), caused her to look like she had walked in from a Harley Davidson biker gang.  I was actually afraid the hostess would turn her away due to the dress code of the joint.  But she didn’t.

Lola sat alone at the table for four.  She was facing me and gave me a little, discrete wink.  I think she was just as confused by the table for four as I was.

Then, all of a sudden, a man shaped like a boulder entered the room.  He was one of the largest humans I had ever set eyes on!  He was dressed nicely – it must have been custom-made clothes – in black pants, a white pressed shirt, and a small blue and pink bow tie.  He wore no jacket over the shirt.  His waste line must have been 60 inches, at least!  He was probably just under six feet tall, with unusually small feet, at least compared with the size of the rest of him.  He looked down at Lola and smiled, politely.  From across the room, I could see that he was sweating on the brow of his bald head.  He sat down.  Now I understood why Lola was seated at a table for four.  He took up nearly the entire side of the table.  He had to move the second chair to the side in order to fit awkwardly.  I thought to myself, how does this guy ever fly on an airplane?  Or any public transport for that matter?  There is not a chair large enough for him!  As it was, I was worried about the structural integrity of the chair he was currently occupying.

A waitress came by and, after a word with Mr. Biggs, she removed the two extra place settings.  She then brought over a bottle of champagne.  At least the guy did his homework and knew Lo’s beverage of choice.  They clinked glasses.  Lola smiled coquettishly at him.  They opened their menus and a brief discussion ensued before he ordered for the two of them.  Lola seemed charmed by him.  Or, at least, she was laying on the charm – smiling seductively with a twinkle in her eye.  She must have found him to be endearing or else she wouldn’t be trying to hard to impress him.

From my vantage point, I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the words hardly mattered.  All the communication was exchanged between glances.  Lo allowed her leather jacket to flap open, revealing her hard nipples through the thin, transparent fabric of her blouse.

Lo, flaunting it. A.I.

The first course was served.  It was a creamy, thick soup.  It was only served to Lo.  Mr. Biggs sipped his champagne and intently watched Lo eat.  She brought the spoon up to her lips and daintily downed the soup.  She could see how enticed Mr. Biggs was by her polite performance and she relished in pushing the envelope.  She took a spoonful of soup and then, after eating it, she licked the spoon with her tongue very erotically.  Mr. Biggs’ eyes opened wide.  I do believe he was salivating at the sight.  I had to remind myself, he’s a feeder.  This is porn to him.

The next course came.  It was arancini balls, with a drizzle of cheese sauce on top.

I didn’t have to hear Lo to be able to read her lovely, lush, red lips saying, “Mmmmm, I love balls.”

Mr. Biggs watched as Lo slowly, indulgently took a bite of each ball from between her index finger and thumb as she used her hands to eat them.  Lo seemed to enjoy putting on the performance.

The third course was the main course – a beautifully creamy beurre blanc sauce over a filet of sole.  I could see by the look on Lo’s face that she was beginning to feel full.  But, nevertheless, she self-sacrificed for her friend’s food fetish fantasy.  Lola ate slowly, “accidentally” (on purpose) dripping a little of the white sauce on her chin.  She had Mr. Biggs eating out of the palm of her hand, even though she was the one doing the eating and mesmerizing him in the process.

She tried to make some small-talk, but he was too enraptured by her ingestion too converse.  Lo gave up on the conversation and continued to seduce by taking satisfaction in the sole.

Mr. Biggs’ abstention from partaking in the meal and his careful observation of Lola didn’t go without notice by the other patrons and the waitress, but that didn’t impinge upon his or Lola’s delight in the scenario.

Lo cleaned her plate, as she felt was the expectation.  This provided a brief interlude before dessert for her to get to know her dinner companion a little better.

“Tell me about you,” said Lo.

“What would you like to know?”

“Well, single, dating, married?”

“Married.”

“Oh, does Mrs. Biggs know you’re on a date with me?”

He chuckled and said, “Absolutely not!”

“Why not?  We’re just having dinner together.  How’s the sex-life?”

“Nonexistent,” he said with a frown.

“Oh no!  Why?”

“Look at me.”

That comment broke Lo’s compassionate heart.

“I’m diabetic, I have high-blood pressure, my circulation is terrible, and, if you haven’t noticed, I’m morbidly obese.”

Lo wanted to say, “And why don’t you have sex?” but she refrained.

“Also,” he continued, “she just gave birth – our first baby – and she’s exhausted, stressed, and has zero libido now.”

“Well, at least you did it once,” said Lo, lighting up.

“It was artificial insemination.”

“No!”  The exclamation escaped Lo’s lips before she knew what she was saying.

“Yes,” he said.  “We just aren’t, well, physically compatible.  I’m over three-hundred pounds and she’s a petite buck-ten.”

“There has to be a way.”

“Nope.  I mean, there was when we first got together.  But then when we wanted to get pregnant, over a year ago, I was already too large for her.  So we got professional help and, actually, that’s how I found you.”

“How’s that?” asked Lo, lighting up now that the topic of conversation had turned towards her.

“I was doing some research on-line about the process and I came across your story, ‘The Master,’ I think it was called.”

“Yeah,” said Lo.  “You came across it?” she asked for clarification.

“Not in that sense.  Well, I mean, later in that sense.”

“Good,” said Lo.

“But I found that story and then I found you and I was like, ‘Wow!  She’s hot!’  And then I saw a post about, what was it? – ‘A Wet Workout and a Wank.’  Was that it?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, and you were so sexy in that photo that I knew I had to contact you!”

“I see.”

Just then the waitress brought the dessert for Lola.  But it was also the dessert for Mr. Biggs’ eyes.  They were beaming at the melted chocolate lava cake à la mode that the waitress set between the two of them with two spoons.

“Aren’t you going to have some?” asked Lo, pouting cutely.  She asked not only out of concern for her date, who hadn’t eaten a thing all night, but also because she was beyond full.  She couldn’t imagine eating that entire portion herself!

“Oh no,” he said, “watching you eat is pleasure enough for me.”

Lola wanted this culinary cumfest to be as hot as possible.  She excused herself and went to the bathroom where she removed her t-shirt and returned with only her leather jacket on, unzipped, so that when she moved in just the right way, you could catch a glimpse of her naked breasts.

Flash and feed.

She sat back down at the table, moving in just the right way for Mr. Biggs.

She dug into the lava cake with her spoon and seductively licked the chocolate off of it.  Accidentally, a little of the chocolate lava dripped on her chin.  She went to wipe it off, but he said, “Please – that looks so good.”  Her hand holding the napkin froze midway to her mouth.  She realized that this turned Mr. Biggs on like nothing so far.  Lola put her napkin back on her lap and picked up the spoon.  Slowly, keenly spying Mr. Biggs’ reaction, Lola descended the spoon into the soft cake.  She got a little cake, a little lava, and a little vanilla ice cream on the spoon and raised it to her open mouth where her tongue was prominently placed to receive the helping.  But, at the very last moment as her hand made its slow-motion trajectory toward her parted lips, she diverted the delivery and smeared a large splotch of the sloppy serving around her lips.

Mr. Biggs’ eyes nearly popped right out of his face.  Lola repeated the performance, this time getting it on her chin.

Soon she sat with a goatee of chocolate and vanilla dripping down her neck.

The waitress came over and asked if everything was ok.  Lola looked up at her and smiled, saying, “Just fine.” She caught the waitress gazing down at Lo’s bare chest.

Mr. Biggs, looking to prolong Lola’s humiliation, politely asked for a cup of tea.  Neither Lo nor Mr. Biggs acknowledged the obvious – Lo’s messy mug.  The waitress was confused.  Soon other patrons in the restaurant were staring.  Lo, aware that this was a performance that pleased her paramour, played along, smiling back seductively at the guests who were embarrassed on her behalf.

She continued to smear cake on her face as Mr. Biggs sipped his tea patiently.  Soon it was spread from ear-to-ear.  Mr. Biggs could take no more.  He asked for the check.  He paid and soon the two of them were in the elevator going down.

Lo still wore her dessert on her face and Mr. Biggs said, “May I kiss you?” once the doors of the elevator shut.

“Yes.”

He didn’t so much kiss Lo as greedily lick what he could from her face.  He was in an ecstasy of culinary concupiscent rapture.  As he kissed her face, Lo reached down, under his substantial stomach, and grabbed his crotch.  To her amazement, she felt nothing.  She recalled his comment about high blood pressure.  The elevators arrived at the lobby and the two of them got out.  Both of them had chocolate on their faces now.  They walked through the crowded arcade of shops and restaurants on the ground level until they were in the parking garage.  It was an empty garage and Lola could spot Mr. Biggs’ car right away.  It was the SUV parked in the handicapped spot to the right of the doors.  He clicked the remote and it lit up.  Lola stepped up onto the elevated footstep and hoisted herself in.  Mr. Biggs got into the driver’s side and turned to Lo.  He was breathing heavily.  He continued to kiss her face.

She pulled back.  “You said dinner and a movie.  What movie?”

“Well, we can’t go to my house.  My wife is there.  And I would like to go to a movie with you, but I also want so much more.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I would love a blowjob.  I haven’t had one in ages.”

Lo unzipped his fly and pulled out the little pud that she found hidden in there.  How could this outsized giant have such a below average cock?

“Do you mind if I watch a movie?” he asked.

Lo’s lips were already wrapped around his pud.  She didn’t reply.  He took out his phone.  He began watching all sorts of BBW (Big Beautiful Women) and SSBBW (Super Sized Big Beautiful Women) porn.  Lo’s thick mane was between Mr. Biggs’ legs as he held his phone on the steering wheel and watched the porn in the largely vacant parking garage.  Every once in a while Lo would come up for air, look at the porn, give him a kiss, and then go back down for more.

This continued for quite a while, until, in fact, Lo’s jaw began to get tired.  And then Lo began to get tired.  She had had a full bottle of champagne all to herself at dinner.  Gradually, Lo’s sucking and bobbing slowed until she was merely lying in Mr. Biggs’ lap, reduced to nothing but a cock-warmer as he continued to gluttonously engorge on porn of large women.

Lo had no idea how much time elapsed as she was snoozing in Mr. Biggs’ lap, but the next thing she remembers was feeling his large hands in her hair, gently pushing her face down on his diminutive dick as his hips pushed up.  Up-and-down, in-and-out, he was manipulating her to face-fuck his cock.  Perhaps he found just the right video to engage his libidinous desires.  Perhaps he needed to cum and wanted to bring the night to its ultimate conclusion.  Maybe he found her unconsciously covering his cock to be a real turn-on.  Who knows?  Lo was roused from her slumbers and, though surprised at first, she eventually engaged enthusiastically in the effort until, with much wheezing, quick thrusts, and a few grunts, Mr. Biggs unloaded into Lo’s mouth as she lapped up every stray drop from his small pud.

Lo sat up, her hair disheveled, her mouth dripping with cum and her face covered still in drying chocolate, and she looked at Mr. Biggs.  He did not look well.  He pulled out an inhaler and took a few quick puffs.  He was perspiring.  Lo actually asked if she should call for help.  He assured her he would be ok.

When he finally caught his breath he looked at the clock and said, “Thanks Lo, but I have to be going.  Will we see each other again?”

“I had a good time.  When would you like to get together?”

Lo actually had no intention of seeing him again, but she is always polite.

“Halloween is coming up in two weeks and I have an invite to a very special party.  Perhaps then?”

“Sure,” said Lo as she leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  She popped out of the car and pulled out her phone, texting me.  She knew I wasn’t far.  I told her where I was and soon she was in the car with me and she relayed the blow-by-blow to me as we drove home.

Lola was receiving detailed instructions from her paramour who grew more perverted by the pound.  The special Halloween party, he informed Lo, was to be for kinksters only.  All invitees were expected to arrive in an outfit that would be outlandish and sexy at the same time.

Perhaps this does not come as such a great surprise, but Mr. Biggs, in addition to being a chub chaser, was also a total nerd who had a thing for Star Wars.  As a result, the costume he had fixated on for him and Lo was Jabba the Hutt and Princess Leia respectively.  But there would be an interesting twist on the costume.  Instead of it being a pairing of ginormously fat and rail thin, it was ginormously fat and Lo, in the sex slave outfit, proudly parading her prominently rounded rolls.

Lola was worried about this since she was self-conscious of the weight she had gained in the past couple of years.

“Lo,” I said, reassuringly, “you are gorgeous.”

“But. . .”

“No but.  I mean, beautiful butt!  Beautiful big butt – I cannot lie.  Besides, beauty, sex-appeal, the feminine mystique, it’s all about the mind, attitude, confidence, and persona anyway.”

“Slut is a state of mind.”

“Exactly!  I mean, just look at our friend, what’s-her-name.”

“Oh, funloving BBW?”

Funloving BB@

“Yeah, her.  By conventional standards. . .”

“Conventional standards of beauty constructed by men,” Lo interrupted.

“That’s what I was about to say.  By conventional standards she would not be beautiful.”

“Beauty is such a malleable thing.  I mean she might be just what Rubens considered the ideal of femininity.”

“Of course, but I’m not talking about Rubens.  I’m talking about Hugh Hefner, Bob Guccione, Larry Flynt.”

“They defined beauty for a few generations.”

“But look at what’s happening now,” I said, “with content creators like Faye Daniels, Dirty Little Diva Nicole, Chelle Silverstein, and even people like our friends, Samantha Massie, Sara Anne, Jennifer Kincade, and Karla Mott Nowak – they’re all so beautiful in their own ways and people appreciate that today.”

She gave me a sidelong look, revealing her jealousy.  She can sometimes behave just like Tinkerbell with that razor edge of possessiveness.  I knew I was in trouble.

“I mean, no one compares to you, of course.”

Funloving BBW

Believe

Funloving BBW

Moo

Funloving BBW bikini

Funloving BBW

Faye Daniels

Faye Daniels

Faye Daniles

Faye Daniels

Faye Daniels

The glamorous Faye Daniels in Rose Shaped Sunglasses

Faye Daniels and friend

Faye Daniels and friend

Dirty Little Diva Nicole and friends

Chelle Silverstein

Chelle Silverstein and husband Brenden Basil

Hotwife Sara Anne

Hotwife Sara Anne

Sara Anne

Samantha Massie

Samantha Massie

Jennifer Kincade

Jennifer Kincade

Jennifer Kincade

Karla Mott Nowak

Karla Mott Nowak

Karla Mott Nowak

Karla Mott Nowak

Emme Witt-Eden’s Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

Two weeks ago we were lucky enough to be asked by our dear friend, Emme Witt-Eden (known to many of you as “Mysterious Witt”), if we would read and review her newly published memoir: Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl. We said “YES!” very enthusiastically.

We weren’t disappointed. The book was a pleasure to read. It was a page turner and the short chapters were bite-sized but delicious! We each devoured it and then, when we got together to discuss the review, we devoured each other!

Here is the review of the book. In the next post we’ll have an exclusive interview with the author!

Promo for Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

Fuck Eat, Pray, Love.  Read Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl instead. There’s more sex, more insight, and it’s better written. Oh, and there’s also more sex.  Did I mention that?

Emme Witt-Eden’s Confessions takes you, the reader, on a journey from her midlife, middle-class, middling marriage to her terrific, if tormented, sexcapades of self-sexploration.

After Emme’s husband confesses to having a string of affairs, facilitated by Ashley Madison, Emme decides it’s high time to declare the time of death on her nearly non-existent sex life and venture out into the world of L.A. dating.

Emme first browses the Casual Encounters page of Craigslist (the story begins over a decade ago) to find her next cock to conquer. After a few revelatory romps in the sack, she then transforms into a “Middle-Aged Fuck-Girl.” Emme prefaces the book with six “definitions” of a fuckgirl. I have always thought of a fuckgirl as a modern take on the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but one who doesn’t just flit about like Holly Golightly, but also gets down and dirty, living up to the updated title. (Although, to be fair, Holly Golightly was a prostitute, or, as Truman Capote said, a New York City “geisha.”)

If I am correct in this comparison between f-girls and MPDGs, then it may be that Emme is neither, for another defining characteristic of both is an almost complete lack of inner depth, subjectivity, and interiority, as well as a compulsion to define oneself as simply and merely the romantic interest (some may say ‘play-thing’) of a man. Any man. All men.

By contrast, the defining characteristic of this memoir (as it should be for any memoir) is Emme’s self-reflection (in some passages, literally), her sense of inner growth and turmoil, and quite poignantly, her feelings of responsibility to her children, guilt and remorse about her failed marriage, and longing to find herself.

This travelogue to the depths of Emme’s soul and the bedrooms of single and married men around L.A. is told through a crisp narrator who uses some beautiful metaphors. Reflecting on her insecurity about entering the dating world as a forty-year-old single mom of two, Emme says, “If my new boat was bogged down with my issues, I decided sex would be my life raft.”

The overarching “issue” is Emme’s reeling in pain from the shock of her husband’s prolific infidelity and, even more than this, his ability to deceive Emme for so many years into thinking that he just wasn’t interested in sex. As it turned out, he was interested in sex, just not with her (until she throws him out, that is).

Consciously or unconsciously, or maybe unconsciously until, in the process of writing it became conscious, Emme’s promiscuity was a way of taking revenge on her philandering husband David, as well as feeling her own feminine power. Emme’s vagina becomes both the site of her emotional charging station – “With each thrust of Kent’s cock, he pushed life back into me.” – and a symbolic scar – “his actions were akin to a knife reopening the wound left by David’s betrayal.”

With each new partner, Emme learns something about herself. When one of her paramours wishes to photograph her nude, she says, “Undressing in front of Russell felt like shedding not just clothes, but also the roles I had been trapped in for years. It was as if with each piece of fabric that fell away, I was peeling back layers of the persona I had created alongside David – and identity that had never truly aligned with who I was.”

The newly single-and-ready-to-mingle Emme is eager to shed her partnered persona. “Wife. Mother. These titles clung to me like a suffocating cloak, concealing the essence of the woman I truly was.”

Finding the woman she truly was involved feeling sexy, desired, and often high on orgasm induced oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine. The transformation was palpable, including by her children, one of whom remarked that she seemed “80% nicer” than she was when with her husband.

But the path to putting her past behind her wasn’t as easy as she was. It involved some bad dates, some duds, some “blue labia,” and sometimes simply the blues. Emme is not only a complex and likable narrator, she, unlike Elizabeth Gilbert, is concerned about others. She is put off by men who are self-absorbed, self-centered, and worst of all, sexually selfish. She connects with others who, like herself, are able to give-and-take in both conversation and bed.

Realizing that some men just didn’t feel it necessary to reciprocate pleasure, or were too lazy to do so, she begins carrying a “pocket rocket” with her on dates. Her breaking the fourth wall narration is endearing, as when she explains, “I get it – this might sound illogical. Hear me out on this one. If I wanted to make sure I had an orgasm on every date – and I wanted to have one with a man – if he couldn’t handle that, I could speed things along with a vibe. If I always had a vibrating friend on hand when I ended up in bed with these guys, I would always be guaranteed an orgasm.”

She’s also very funny when she tosses caution to the wind and upgrades to carrying with her a very large, bulky, and heavy Hitachi Magic Wand in a backpack when she goes on dates. Can’t say I blame her. It gets the job done in a jiffy! And it can double as a serious weapon in a pinch!

In addition to most of Emme’s epiphanies occurring in various bedrooms around L.A., rather than having to travel to distant lands, as Gilbert did, Emme also stands leagues apart from Gilbert in her care of and for others, particularly her children. And, in a way that characterizes Emme’s humanity and humility in ways easily distinguished from Gilbert, Emme is not beyond self-reproach and self-doubt. As she muses:

I feared their [bad] behavior was actually my fault. It was my fault for letting them eat donuts so close to dinner. It was my fault that I buckled to their donut demands in the first place. It was my fault that I was in love with Zachary. It was my fault that he was gone.

And it was my fault that David and I couldn’t make our marriage work. It was my fault he cheated on me. I had withheld sex, so he found other covert lovers. His cheating was totally understandable. I was to blame.

And now my new lover had dumped me because I wouldn’t show my face in a ‘Casual Encounters’ ad.

I was to blame for everything.

No, this is not sexy. This is not MPDG material. This is not fuck-girl fun. But it is real. And deep. And it shows the fear we all feel at one time or another.

At one point, Emme describes the blissful pain of her pussy after a night of little sleep and lots of big dick pile driving with a guy named Bryce. She compares the bush beating discomfort to the euphoric feeling of being sore the day after a good workout. No pain, no gain. The same could be said for Emme’s overall experience as recalled in this memoir. She gained wisdom, but it came with pain. And she came, again, and again, and again.

As Emme Witt-Eden’s online moniker, “mysterious witt,” suggests, she’s a woman of mystery and wit, but also of indomitable spirit and juicy womanly bits. My only regret of this memoir is where it ends. But, it gives me hope that we can expect a sequel describing how this mid-forties f-girl and MILF gets herself into being a dominatrix. Emme, your readers want more! I hope you won’t leave us longing for a second like some of your lovers left you titillated but not satiated. Perhaps the name of her next memoir will be Fuck, Eat, Pray, Love!

A little cross-endorsement from Emme Witt-Eden

Interview with Porn Star Hotwife Sara Anne and her Husband

Interview with Porn Star Hotwife Sara Anne and her Hubby

Hotwife Sara Anne

LOLA – Sara Anne – I’m such a BIG fan!  I’m so glad you agreed to this interview.  And I’m really glad the interview with “After Hours Radio” came out first so I could listen to it and come up with some interesting questions based upon what I’ve learned about you and your hubby.

That said, first question: Not sure if you’ve raid Rated X by Maitland Ward, the former “Boy Meets World” star, turned adult film star, but her story reminded me a lot of you.  She was brought up with strict and conventional notions of sex and, though not a prude, she documents the long journey for her personally and professionally to get from where she was to where she is now.  What was your upbringing like and how did you get into making your own adult content?

Maitland Ward from her “Boy Meets World” days.

Maitland Ward Cute Ginger

Maitland Ward getting off to mysexlifewithlola.com

Inspirational Maitland Ward

Maitland Ward in Blacked ‘Unprofessional’ (Photo 004)

S.A. –  I was raised in a Catholic household that didn’t really talk about sex or educate me on sex and sexuality.  My father was verbally abusive and, as such, I no longer have a relationship with him and sadly my mother passed suddenly over a decade ago now.  I barely even kissed a boy before I was 17, but once I did the floodgates were turned loose and I lost my virginity on the cliche prom night.  From there, I experimented with a lot of different guys and by the time I met my husband I was already well into double digit numbers.  On our first night together we both said we were the best each other ever had and we were soon married after that.  It was not long after our marriage that my hubby said that I was so good he had to share me with his friends.  While I was reluctant at first, eventually I did start having sex with him and his friends at parties.  After several years of experimenting with the “lifestyle,” hubby started filming me with other men (with their permission of course).  We showed it to some people and they liked it, so we shared it on social media and before long Amature Pornstar Hotwife Sara Anne was born!

Sara Anne

LOLA – One reason Maitland Ward reminded me of you was because she talks about how, when first getting started, her husband was the camera man.  Question for you, Hubby: Did you frequently fantasize about Sara Anne being with other men (and women), or how did that come about?  Does it turn you on now to see her with other people making porn?

Dirty Girl Sara Anne gets clean.

Hubby – I did!  From the first time I was with her, I thought she was so good that I couldn’t keep her all to myself and I wanted to share her with my friends.  I also knew her “number” and knew that even though she swore she could be “faithful” I would never have wanted that for her.  Why would I take away something from her that she has enjoyed doing so much and was so good at?  I’ve always said, Sara’s men are like going to an amusement park.  She has a favorite ride (me), but she still wants to ride all of the other rides and why would I ever deprive someone I love so deeply of that.  In turn, she has remained “faithful” to me for nearly 20 years now.  We are one of the closest couples you will ever meet and we are definitely each other’s forever.  I still fantasize about her with other men and the only porn I ever watch are her films.  I truly enjoy watching her work her craft and getting it on film for the rest of the world to enjoy as well.  Someday I hope that managing her career and filming her will be my only job.

Taking it hard, Sara Anne

LOLA – Would you, Hubby, ever consider being in a film or photos with Sara Anne?

Hubby –  If you have a keen eye, you can find parts of me in many of her films.  However, for now, my face cannot be shown for business related reasons.  Someday though, I’ll make my first full appearance!

LOLA – I heard on the interview with “After Hours” that one of your “friends” found out about the porn and then outed you.  Can you describe what that was like?

S.A. –  Extremely stressful at first.  We had to do damage control when we first found out that our “friends” were telling all of our other friends about it.  Long story short, ultimately all of our friends told us that they kind of suspected all along but that we had never made them uncomfortable in any way and that they knew we were good people and that it really didn’t change anything about our relationship with them.  We actually did not end up losing a single friend over it and now it’s fun to listen to them ask questions and joke with us about it.

LOLA – You said in that interview that one of the things you had to do was tell your sons about your new profession.  I think you said one of your sons is 16.  How old are they?  And what was their reaction?

MILF Sara Anne

S.A. –  In attempting to keep my family protected and out of the story as much as possible, I will say one is late teens and the other is mid 20s.  The older was okay with it, but didn’t want to know any more.  The younger had a lot of questions but ultimately is also “cool” with it and now can’t be blindsided by friends finding out and not being prepared with a response.  He has even joked with me a couple of times about it.  It did not change our relationship with our children in the slightest and, in fact, I think they are more open and honest with us now that we have been transparent with them.

LOLA – What do you think of the term “MILF”?  Do you think that your sons’ friends (or their parents) see you that way?

Taking it Doggy Style Sara Anne

S.A. – LOL….  Hubby has always considered me a Mom I Love to Fuck.  I honestly try to stay detached from their friends’ parents because I don’t want one of them recognizing me and making things awkward.  When I do interact with them, I’m usually not as glammed up as  you see me on film or photos so I don’t honestly know if they consider me a MILF or not.

LOLA – What are some of the reactions that you’ve received from friends and family when they found out about your work?

S.A. –  As mentioned before, everyone has been very supportive after asking a million questions.  They have seen how strong our relationship is and how well we get along, so it’s hard to argue that we are doing anything wrong.  It’s been over a year since it all came out and I feel like everything has just gone back to normal. . . other than the occasional joke or question now and then.  We both like that we don’t have to hide it any more.  It’s like a huge weight lifted off of our shoulders.

Hot Wife Sara Anne ready for a hot night

LOLA – Hubby, have your guy friends had any response about what Sara Anne does?  Do they say things to you like, “I wish my wife did that” or “Your wife is so hot!  I saw her in the last video and. . .” ?

Hubby –  Honestly, believe it or not, all of my guy friends have been very nonchalant about it and it rarely comes up.  The plus side is when she or we are trying to pick someone up while we are out, we don’t have to sneak around about it anymore.

Midnight Swim with Sara Anne

LOLA – Any negative or judgmental reactions from friends or family?

S.A. –  Honestly, none.  We had one couple that initially did not want to be friends with us any more, but after about six months they decided they missed us.  Our other friends had told them nothing has changed and they realized they were wrong to react the way they did.  We got together and talked it out and now are back to being good friends again.

LOLA – Ever have a screening at your house for friends and family before the video is released?

S.A. – Never, and I don’t think we would ever try to do that.  Just because they are okay with it doesn’t mean we want to shove it in their face.

LOLA – Do you come out of a session with another man and ever go home and, when having an intimate moment with your hubby, tell him how amazing it was?  What is his reaction?

“Can’t wait to tell hubby about this!” – Sara Anne

S.A. – Oh, one of our rules is that he always wants all the details and I happily oblige him.  I enjoy seeing how much it turns him on to hear me talk about it and when the story is done, both of us love him “reclaiming” me.  Sex is never better than when hubby goes last and I truly don’t feel satisfied until I’ve had him after being with another man.

LOLA – Hubby, do you have a preference to see Sara Anne in a scene with another man, another woman, or with multiple men?

Hotwife Sara Anne Smiling

Hubby –  YES!  LOL.  I just enjoy seeing her have fun and seeing her smile, whatever she is doing, whether it’s sex or riding amusement park rides or singing karaoke, her smile means everything to me.

 

Hot Wife Sara Anne having fun.

LOLA – Sara Anne, who are or were some porn stars you admired or got off to either past or present?

S.A. –  Believe it or not, I don’t watch much porn and never watch my own films.  I enjoy having great sex and getting it on film.  I occasionally will do some light research with hubby for ideas for new material, but in general I prefer to make my own fantasies come true rather than watch other people on film.  We both also prefer to watch it live when we do, which is why we love to attend lifestyle parties and enjoy the show that we get to see.  Live porn is always better than screen porn!

LOLA – Hubby, if you’ve been reading what HH writes about me, and I’m not sure if you have, then you know that one of my kinks is turning on married men who have beautiful wives.  I include you in that category.  Any thoughts about me?

Hubby – I said before, the only porn I ever watch is Sara Anne’s, but that doesn’t mean I don’t read it!  The stories are hot and I think it would be incredible to film you and Sara Anne together.  It would be called MILF and Nymph.

Yes, Hotwife Sara Anne is a Cumtributing member of The Match Book Club!

LOLA – Sara Anne, as you know, in my relationship with HH, I’m allowed to play, but he is not.  I get incredibly jealous.  But for you, if the roles were reversed and Hubby was doing the adult films with other women, how do you think that would make you feel?

S.A. –  In the beginning we were strictly a Hotwife couple and I wouldn’t have dreamed of ever sharing him.  I always felt that he would find something better, but over the years he convinced me that he was never going anywhere no matter what.  Eventually we did change to a full-swap couple, although he still prefers to just sit back and sip some bourbon and enjoy the show I put on for him.  While we have made the transition to full-swap, it’s same room only and I can’t imagine a scenario where I would be fully okay with not being there while he was with another woman.  He has and does let me play with other men by myself and perhaps that is just because he has that much faith in us, but in recent years we pretty much only play together.  It’s about enjoying each other’s pleasures together rather than trying to get something from somewhere else.

LOLA – Sara Anne, what was the most fun you’ve had doing this?

S.A. –  Oh wow!  It would be hard to say exactly, as there have been so many different fun experiences.  The first time I squirted, the first time I got DVP’d, my first gangbang. . . and so many more!

LOLA – Do you do this for the money, the fun, or both?

S.A. –  Well Hubby doesn’t see a dime of my income and lets me spend all of my “porn money” on whatever I want.  Of course I use it to buy gifts for him, but mostly it’s to support my “vanilla hobby” (which I will keep private for now).  So yes, the money is nice, but I did it for fun for almost 13 years before I ever made a dime.  It was due to sheer boredom during the pandemic that I found OnlyFans and started my account in May of 2020.  So yeah, it’s always been about fun, but the extra income is really great too and I want to especially give a shout out to my fans who realize that while this is a lot of fun, it’s a lot of work to also bring my films to life.  So, from the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU to anyone who has ever donated their hard earned money to enjoying watching me do what I love.  It means the world to me and motivates me to keep going for as long as you want to see me having fun with my clothes off!

Sara Anne sucking cock

LOLA – Best part of this job?

S.A. – Being a happily married woman who still gets to experience the entire world of sex that is out there.  I am a proud SLUT and have always said that word stands for “Sexually Liberated Unlike Them!”

L – Worst part of this job?

S.A. –  Trying to find people who are willing to be on camera with me!

LOLA – Would you say you ooze confidence, that this work has made you more confident, or that you struggle with confidence to get naked and have sex with strangers?

S.A. –  I am definitely not a confident girl and that dates back to my upbringing and early boyfriends.  I was also a late bloomer, so no one ever told me I was attractive until I was in my early 20s.  I’m actually extremely shy when you first meet me and am not good at small talk.  That being said, I think I know that I am really great at sex and I’ve been hearing it my entire life, so I honestly have zero issues meeting someone one minute and have them fucking me silly the next.  When it comes to sex, that is where my confidence lies!

LOLA – Gang bang, glory hole, bukkake goals for a film?

S.A. – I have one gang bang in the books (hopefully you have seen it) and another scheduled tentatively for this summer. I’m not opposed to glory hole or bukkake, but again its finding the guys willing!

LOLA – Any kinks or fetishes that are a real turn-on or turn-off for you?

S.A. – I’ll start with turn-offs: anything to do with anal sex.  I’ve tried with professionals, it’s just not a pleasure zone for me.  My pussy is pretty amazing and allows me to orgasm in multiple ways multiple times.  Even the hint at backdoor play turns me off and will get me out of the mood really quickly.  As for turn-ons and fetishes – Oh please creampie me!  I don’t know what it is, but I love when a guy creampies me and especially a new guy!  Sex isn’t complete until I can feel their cock swell inside me just before their cum explodes in my pussy.  I love the new warm wetness its creates and I always orgasm hard instantly as soon as I feel it and it’s the very best way to finish sex with me.

Do not accidentally go in the wrong hole!

Hubby – My biggest turn on is just seeing her naked.  It’s also great watching her with other men and I also love when she adds a new guy to her list.  We have a running joke that when she’s done and the guy has left or we are on our way home, she gets a big hi-five from me.  I know we are always looking forward to the next one!

LOLA – Do you still masturbate and, if so, to what?

S.A. –  I do, at least a few times a week and honestly it’s more about relaxation for me, so I don’t really masturbate to anything in particular.  If hubby is available, I just ask him to fuck me (which he always does), but if he is not around I have my Battery Operated Boyfriends to keep me company.  If anything, it might just be that I saw a hot guy on TV while I was at home alone and if the time is right, I’ll get myself off!

Hubby – Sara learned a long time ago to never let your man leave the house hungry or horny, so she keep me pretty well drained.  After I found out a few years ago that it turned her on to watch me masturbate, I usually only do it when she is present and, in fact, I can’t remember the last time I did it on my own.

LOLA – Best sex of your life?

S.A. –  Any of the countless times with hubby.  He is and always will be the best because he knows what I like and knows how to hit all the right buttons.

Hubby –  Oh definitely Sara Anne.  You have seen her films and that’s what I get to have sex with regularly!

LOLA – I’m a bit of a size queen myself.  I LOVE an unusually long and thick cock.  What about you?

S.A. –  While I have never backed down from a challenge and have had some massive cocks inside me, I honestly prefer an average 6-to-8 inch guy.  I’m a small girl and I have a very naturally tight, wet pussy, so I can’t work with the big ones as well as I can with one that fits nicely in my “hot pocket,” as hubby calls it.  If you watch my films, I think you can see how much more I am capable of doing with an average guy versus a huge guy.  That doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try them all, but I just enjoy it more with an average sized cock.

LOLA – I also find micropenises fascinating.  Ever been with a guy you just couldn’t even feel?

S.A. –  I have, but just one guy a long time ago.  I’ve been pretty happy to discover that in my triple-digit cock experiences they have all been average to above average.  But there was that one guy. . . I just couldn’t even feel it!  I honestly felt terrible for him, but I did let him finish and he did give me great oral, so while I never tried it again, I can still say I had fun.

LOLA – Favorite movie, novel, or television show?

S.A. –  Movie – Steel Magnolias.  Novels, almost anything Stephen King.  Television show?  Depends on my mood, but either “Friends,” “The Office,” or “Supernatural” are always on in the background in my house.

LOLA – Pornstar crush?

Angela White

S.A. –  Right now, I’d love to work with Johnny Sins!

Johnny Sins, Angela White, and Lola on TV

Hubby –  Besides Sara?  Right now, Angela White!

LOLA – Would you recommend this lifestyle to couples?  Why or why not?

Both – It’s not for everyone, as we have found, but those who figure out how to do it and put the jealous feelings aside will find that it makes their relationship closer than any you will find in the vanilla world because you have to have 100% trust and honesty at all times.  The moment you lose that, this would never work.  The great thing is that if you find lifestyle couples that have been together for a long time they will be the coolest, most down to earth, drama free people you have ever met.  Once again, it’s all about having fun and marriage should never be hard!  There are three things that end a marriage: parenting conflicts, money, and sex.  When you eliminate one of those problems from a relationship, you immediately have it 33% better than other couples!

LOLA – What do you write on your tax return as a profession for this income?

S.A. –  Model.

LOLA – Has it ever happened that you’re out with your girlfriends and you’re like, “Oh, sorry, I have to leave, I’m filming tonight”?

S.A. –  Nope, I never plan for things like that to overlap.  In general, on a film day it’s like game day for me.  I spend my morning getting ready and give 100% to filming.  If they did a great job, I should be exhausted by the end, so we don’t usually plan on doing anything after, although sometimes its shorter than planned so we will go out after on occasion.

LOLA – Do your girlfriends have questions about it?  Do they express interest?

Sara Anne with Grace Stewart

S.A. –  They did have a lot of questions and most of them have watched my films on their own and had even more questions after.  All of them have joked that they need to get into it!

LOLA – Would you ever invite one of them to join you?  Or have you ever?

S.A. –  We decided long ago that we will never mix vanilla friends and lifestyle again.  It has caused too many problems and we do our absolute best to stay drama free!

LOLA – Plans for your future career?

S.A. –  Keep having fun!  I plan to continue making films as much and often as possible until people stop watching.  And I’ll remain in the lifestyle until I get too old to do it.  Then I’ll probably just become a nudist.  LOL.

Sara Anne squeezing out that Cream Pie

Protected: Later That Night

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Protected: “Paint me like one of your slutty girls.”

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Op-Ed from the Politico-Parody Press

Breaking News: Sanna Marin, the thirty-six year old, female, Finnish prime minister had fun!

Prime Minister of Finland Sanna Marin

Yes, there is evidence and she has even confessed to it publicly.  At a news conference, she admitted to being “boisterous” with her friends at a party.  Subsequently, a photo of two women, kissing, and revealing their breasts, though covered by a sign that said “Finland,” appeared on the TikTok of Sabina Särkkä, a thirty-three year old “influencer” and friend of the Finnish prime minister.  She was one of the two women engaged in the now infamous kiss/flash, though Sanna Marin was not the unknown second woman.

This appalling, immoral scandal raises serious political questions, not only for Finland, but for us all across the globe.  If women must be politicians and national leaders, where are the respectable, upright, joyless, sexless prime ministers such as Margaret Thatcher, Angela Merkel, and Golda Meir?  They didn’t party.  They didn’t dance.  And they certainly didn’t pose for an official photoshoot in just a pantsuit and jacket, no bra, with a neckline that goes down to the navel!

Do you see cleavage on Sanna Marin?

Ever since the United States Food and Drug Administration approved contraceptive pills, or “the Pill,” in 1960, it would seem that women were given license to enjoy sex without consequences, that is, to be licentious.  Historically, for millennia, that right was the exclusive province of men.  And so, in the face of such unabashed enjoyment by the female sex – that has had many other culture-controverting effects such as women in the workplace, in the armed forces, and even in politics! – it is entirely appropriate to censure Sanna Marin for her public display of enjoyment, even if she was enjoying in private.

Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin visits the Rogue’s Gallery, before a portrait of the author, HH.

Women enjoy dancing, singing, and displaying their breasts has the desultory implication that they may also enjoy sex.  This cannot be!  Such heresy to the patriarchal hierarchy that has existed since the dawn of civilization must be excoriated from our society.  To that end, we are beginning to see the pendulum shift in the other direction.  In America, the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization has put an end to the formerly constitutionally protected right for a woman to obtain an abortion.  There are many new laws that have either been passed or at least proposed to make it illegal to purchase, sell, or mail contraceptives and/or “abortion pills.”  A few states are making it illegal for parents of so-called “transgender” youth to seek gender reassignment surgery and/or for doctors to perform it.  States such as Texas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Utah, and Florida have passed or proposed laws censoring books deemed “sexually explicit,” “obscene materials,” “sensitive materials,” and “pornography.”

To this end, America should reinstate the Comstock Act, criminalizing using the U.S. Postal Service to mail any obscenity, contraceptives, abortifacients, or sex toys and authorizes the postal service to confiscate birth control sold through the mail.  That will teach women that sex is not something to be enjoyed!

Is it really surprising that Sanna Marin has exhibit such behavior?  After all, she is a woman who is the product of divorce and was raised by two women in a loving relationship.  Perhaps it is due to this lesbian influence that Marin was recently spotted at a preview for the scandalous art exhibit, the Rogue’s Gallery, featuring the notorious nymphomaniac and porno-star, Lola Down.  If ever a woman took pleasure, delight, and enjoyment in the act of sex – whether between her and a man, her and many men, her and a woman, her and many women, her and women and men, or with herself (most often) – it is Lola Down.  The whole exhibit should be shut down and confiscated as deplorable depictions of degenerate art!  Most damning of all, Sanna Marin is reputed to have said about the Rogue’s Gallery that it was “stimulating to both mind and body.”

Need I say more?

Prime Minister of Finland visits a preview of the Rogue’s Gallery and admires the paintings and drawings depicting Lola Down

Anti-Lola protester

Pro-Lo supporter of sex for women

A Chance Encounter with a Unicorn

[Guest Post by Lola’s new friends – SnowCplCo]

SnowCpleCo

We were driving across the country for the holidays and, as dusk was descending and T was growing tired, we pulled into the first motel on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere that we found.  I was walking the two dogs, who were eager to get out after so long in the back seat, while hubby was unloading bags.  The dogs suddenly stopped and directed my attention toward an attractive brunette walking in a short black dress and turquoise heels.  Mysteriously, the dogs were as captivated by her as I was.  This petite, yet confident “girl next door” walked up to me and asked if it was ok to pet the dogs.  Though they were stir-crazy from the drive, they are friendly and I said that they’d love it.  She leaned over to pet them and I could see right down the open neckline of her dress.  She had nice tits.  No bra.  Young.  Perky.  I was getting wet as I stood there, gawking at her.  I tried making small talk.  She crouched down to continue petting the dogs, as I stood over her.  It was impossible to not see down her dress from that angle.

As we were chatting, she saw hubby grab a bottle of bubbly and bourbon from the car. She said “Oh, I’m so ready for glass of wine after driving all day.”

I responded, “Wine time never comes quick enough on road trips.”  We kept talking for a bit and she asked if we would mind if she joined us for a glass because she hadn’t talked to anyone all day.  I said, “Sure, but it has to be in our room due to the dogs.”

She was game and we made our introductions.  She introduced herself as Lola. We agreed to meet about an hour later. I told hubby when I got back to the room and he said, “There goes our playtime then.”  He had been horny and wanting me the entire drive.

I responded with, “She’s not going to be here all night.  We’ll still get to play.  Promise.”

Lola came over and we sat around the small room and chatted with the conversation going all over the place.  A few glasses into it, she said that she better get back to her room.  It was clear she was merely being polite.  To my surprise and arousing a bit of jealousy that I didn’t even know I had, hubby asked her to stay for one more glass.  She agreed, but said, “Before I have any more, I have a little work to do.  Do you mind if I go grab my laptop?”

“Not at all,” said T.

A minute later she popped back into our room and sat at the tiny desk.

“What kinda work are you doing?” asked T.

“Just updating our blog.”

Hubby, trying desperately to turn the friendly chatter into a sexy seduction, said in a joking way, “What, like your OnlyFans page?”

She looked over at him, smirking, and said “Something like that.”

Hubby said back to Lola, “I bet a pretty, young, flirtatious girl like you makes a thousand dollars a day on the internet.”

“Hardly,” laughed Lola.  “I do it just for fun, actually.”

“Wait,” I said, “you mean he’s right?!  You do have an OnlyFans page?”

Lo laughed even more and said, “Well, no, not OnlyFans.  Just a sex blog that my man and I run.”

“Oh!” said hubby, “I can’t believe it!  I’ve been waiting all day to get to work on content with her for ours page!”

Lola looked very surprised and said “Really! You two don’t seem like the type!”

“I could say the same about you,” I said.

We talked a little more about it before I suggested, “I’ll show you my page if you show me yours?”

That was all it took for T.  He had his laptop out so quick!  We looked at each other’s pages and hers was incredible!  We go by Snow CoupleCO and she seemed to like what she saw of us too.  I then asked if she wanted help making content and winked at hubby.  She paused a bit and looked at us.  “Really?”

“Yeah, it could be fun.”

“OK, but no photos.”  She was concerned about remaining anonymous.

“Deal.”

“I’m going to freshen up,” she said, “It’s been a long drive today.”

“OK.  See you back here soon.”  I felt butterflies in my stomach, I was so excited.  While she was out showering and, I think, shaving herself smooth, I took a quick shower as well.  When I came out, I found hubby jacking off to Lo’s photos.  I snapped a couple of pics but told him, “Keep it hard, Mr. Roadtrip McLovin!”

Mr. T – Roadtrip McLovin

When Lola came back, gone was the girl next door and here stood a pro porn star!  You would never recognize her.  “You really are ‘the nympho next door!’” I said.

Lo was wearing a sheer white top that reminded me of boudoir wedding photos I had seen once.  But adorning her neck was a black leather collar, like a dog’s collar, that said “SLUT” in diamond studs.  She wore a short black skirt that barely covered the bottom of her ass and black leather boots to match.

Lo Looking Like a Slutty Bride

“Before we get to playing, there’s a dive bar attached to this rundown motel.  How about the three of us go in there and see what happens?”

I was very game, but I had a better idea in mind.

“I just caught my husband masturbating to your photos,” I said.  A sparkle of vanity flashed in Lo’s eyes as she looked first at my hubby’s face and then at his crotch.  “He must be hard-up for you,” I continued.  Lo’s tongue ran across her teeth as she looked desirously at him.  “Do you think you could help him out before we go there?”

“Help him out, how?” she asked.

“Get on your knees,” I commanded.

She obeyed immediately.  I reached over and pulled out T’s bulging hard cock from his pants.  I held it in my hand.  “There you go, hun,” I said to him.  “Do it.  Cum on her face.”

He took control of his cock and stroked fast.  He looked at me, looked at Lo longing for his dick in her mouth.  He looked at me again.  He looked down at Lo and came on her face.  It was the fastest I’ve seen him cum in ages!

Lo’s cheeks and chin were dripping with his cum.  I had to hold the dogs back to keep them from licking her clean.

“OK, now we can go.”

“You want me to go like this?”

“Exactly.”

“OK, but let’s make it more interesting.  My man and I play a little game like this a lot.  You walk in first.  Then I’ll walk in and join you.  T walks in last and has to sit away from us.  Let’s see who has the courage to pick us up.”

I was giddy with excitement.

We walked down the motel line to the bar at the end.  It was a sleepy little bar in the middle of nowhere that mostly accommodated travelers and lonely locals.

Lo walked in first looking like a used prostitute.  I followed, looking like a lonely housewife desperate for action.  I wore my tight jeans shorts, cowboy boots, and a blouse unbuttoned nearly to my navel.  No bra.

The few folks inside noticed our appearance right away.  I ordered a beer across the bar from Lola, who had ordered some sort of cocktail.

I then made my way over to her and pretended like we were meeting for the first time – which we had, only about two hours earlier.

A couple of middle-aged guys approached us and I noticed my husband walk into the bar.  No one else, except maybe Lola, noticed him.

Both the guys who were talking to us had wedding bands on.

Eventually, in the dimness of the bar, one of the guys noticed the sheen on Lo’s face from my husband’s cum.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Beauty cream,” she said with a smile.

I leaned in and licked it, seductively, off of her face before making out with her.

The two guys were excited beyond belief.  I reached back with one hand and grabbed the cock of the guy sitting next to me.

Suddenly the grumpy old bartender told us to take it outside.  This wasn’t a brothel!

“You want to join us?” I asked the men.

They sure did!

Lo and I walked with them back to the room and the four of us went in.

It was really crowded in there now with the two dogs.

Lo and I stripped each other and started making out on the bed as the guys watched.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” asked Lo in a little girl sort of voice.

They guys began taking their clothes off, embarrassed to be seeing each other naked.

Just as they were about to approach us on the bed, T barged into the room and, in a performance worthy of an Oscar, he yelled, “What the hell are you doing?!”

The guys were shocked and quickly scrambled to put on their clothes.  In their haste, I think they might have even put on the other’s clothes by accident.

They got out of the room quick and we all had a laugh.

Lo began to work my clit ring and lips while sliding her tongue in and out.  I then felt her fingers entering me.  She had the perfect rhythm and I really began getting wet, feeling my juices drip down my ass.  Lola raised up my hips, smiled, and slid a finger in my ass.  I moaned, looking over at hubby, who now had his cock in his hand.  He was moderately hard, since he had cum so recently.  I grabbed Lo’s hips and slid her up to my face.  Instantly, she began grinding on my tongue.

We played pretty hard for a while before she whispered, “Can we invite your hubby?” Of course, I wasn’t going to say no.  So she lifted up her her face and, dripping with my cum now, told him, “Take the rest of your clothes off and get over here.”  We both went down on him while he was trying to keep the dogs off of us.  We took turns playing with him as he went from my ass to Lola’s mouth and back again and again.  Eventually, when Lola convinced me to do the same, he came, shooting a huge load in her ass before I cleaned him off with my mouth.  He poured us drinks and we laid on the bed with her in the middle petting each other.

. . .

Lo stood up and cum dripped down her inner thigh onto the cheap motel room carpeting.  She grabbed a glass of the bubbly to quench her thirst and picked up her clothes.

“I’ll let you two get some good sleep tonight.  Thanks for a fun time,” she said as she walked out into the parking lot stark naked.  We watched her saunter to her room and disappear inside.

I’m not sure if I was dreaming or not, but a few hours later I woke to the blood curdling sounds of what sounded like a murder, but, after close listening for a few moments, I realized, it was Lo’s screaming orgasm.

The next morning she continued on the road east as we continued west.  When we got home, first thing we did was order a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark.  We now get off to it nightly, fondly remembering our time with Lola Down – just your average nympho next door.

 

Snow getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

 

 

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

an extra bonus Christmas gift from Snow

The (Not So) Secret Life of Lo the Nympho

Lo’s kungfu Grip

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

That wasn’t Lola firing off those five fucks in a row, that was me.  Lo had just used her left hand, filled with moisturizing cream, to get me off in my pajama bottoms.  This has become an almost nightly routine for us now.  We get into bed – she naked, me in my pajama bottoms – and she says, “Do you want me to milk you Daddy?”

I almost always say yes.

On the rare occasions that I ask her if I can have her, to fuck her, you know, the old-fashioned way of intercourse, she usually just reaches down between my legs and squeezes her cream-filled hand around my hard rod.  I am powerless to protest.  She strokes to climax – always my climax – and then I fall off to sleep in my cum-filled pjs, too spent to change.

This nightly ritual has spurred me to purchase five or six more pajama bottoms in order that I have something to wear the next night.

What Lo does after my dissipated desire allows me to nod off is a mystery.

But recently I have gained a glimpse into that dark, hidden recess.

After hearing from Ginger and her transformation from housewife to hotwife, Lo became curious about the legalized brothels of Nevada.  Apparently, she had been doing internet research on her own late at night.

Fit Ginger Hotwife

Fit Ginger Hotwife

“Daddy,” she said one day over breakfast, “it has been a long time since we went on a vacation.”

“True,” I said, sipping my coffee.  “What do you have in mind?”  I knew she was up to something nefarious.

“Well,” she began, looking off into the middle distance to conjure her vision like a fey dreamer, “in Nevada prostitution is legal.”

“With certain qualifications,” I said, being a cold, hard realist.  Very hard.

Undeterred by my interruption, she continued, “And I’ve looked into it.  They have special vacation, well, uh, sort of sex-tourism packages.”

Lola’s eye is always attracted to a big package.  “I’m confused,” I said.

“Daddy, they issue a special license for tourists to prostitute themselves.”

“No – really?”

She nodded enthusiastically.  Then she looked up at me with those pleading puppy eyes.  “Please, Daddy.”

I’ll spare you all the details, but basically there are a lot of costs involved: licensing, STD testing, room rental, etc.  It seemed to me very much like a day trip on a recreational fishing boat.  There’s the cost of the boat, the fishing license, the taxes, etc.  Built into the cost of the day excursion on the boat are all the hidden costs.  We had to discover all the overhead ourselves for our sex-tourism jaunt.

Once all that was done, we flew to a remote part of Nevada.  Setting up the clientele was easy, given our high-profile web presence.  There was no shortage of johns eager for pay-to-play with Lo.

Other than suggesting the idea and knowing what our special vacation was for, Lo had no other insights into the details.  She wanted it that way.  In order to keep her both figuratively and literally in the dark, I arranged the flight to land at night.  We drove through the veiled desert to the remote, rather dilapidated brothel.  It looked more like a repurposed old motel.  Lo and I found our room and, as she was exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, only a few hours after we had arrived, I woke up to begin preparations for Lo’s stay.  As Lo soundly slept in the buff on the king-sized bed, I collected all her clothes – every last garment.  I put them in my suitcase and simultaneously unpacked the special outfits I had purchased for her, especially for this occasion.  They consisted of thong panties, lace panties, satin bras, elaborate strappy one-piece lingerie, fishnet stockings, and the like.  There was not one item of clothing left in the room that she could possibly wear outside.  She was trapped by her own undergarments, imprisoned by G-strings and sheer mesh fabric.  A fitting metaphor for the Veil of Maya in which we all find ourselves.

I then snuck out of the room with her suitcase.  She had no idea, but I had rented the room adjacent to hers.  The walls were paper thin, allowing me to be a clandestine interloper in her affairs.  About nine that morning I got a text from Lo: “Where are you?”

“I had to go out.  Your first appointment is at noon.  Enjoy.”

“Out?  Where to?”

“Running some errands for your vacation.  His name is Peter.  Call me if you need anything, I will be close by.”

“Daddy, breakfast,” she wrote, complaining.

“It’s being delivered.”

I had arranged for everything.  The room service arrived, finding Lola naked in the hotel room.  I suppose that sort of thing was not unusual, given the purpose of the establishment.

I returned to my adjacent room around ten after getting some greasy grits for myself and I heard Lo in her room.  It sounded like she was showering and then masturbating.  Then, repeat.  I texted her, “Turn on the TV.”

I had arranged that I could cast from my computer to her TV.  I put on one of her favorite shows: Playboy’s “Swing.”

“Oh, Daddy!” she texted back.

I could hear the muted sounds of the TV from her room.

Around noon her first customer, I mean john, that is to say, Peter came.

And boy did he cum!

I heard muted voices.  Then I heard Lo saying, “Fill me!  Fuck me!  Stretch me!  Cum in me!”  That last bit was screamed so that it was exquisitely distinct through the wall.

I heard her repeating at the top of her lungs, as if an incantation or mantra: “I love cock!  I love cock!  I love cock!  I love cock!!!”

There were a few moments of quiet and then I heard the door close.  A few moments later Lo texted me, “First done and gone.”

“How was it.”

“Well, it’s only 12:20, so, I’d say pretty quick.  When’s my next appointment?”

“Not until 1:00.”

“Can you come here, Daddy?”

“No, Lo.  I’m out.  Running errands.”

She sent a sad-face emoji.

I heard her fire up her Hitachi Magic Wand (which I had strategically left for her to find).

Screams.  Silence.  Screams.

A knock at the door.

John #2.

This time there was a lot of talk, but no climax.  No yelling or screaming.

At exactly two o’clock I heard the door close.

“Two down,” texted Lo.

“How was it?”

“He just wanted me to stroke his cock while I looked into his eyes and talked to him.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Anything that came to mind.  He just wanted me to talk.  I tried to make sexy talk, but he preferred that I just say anything.  I basically told him the history of Elizabethan Theater and the history of Shakespeare plays.  That made him very hard and horny.”

“You’re kidding,” I texted back.

“Gotta go!  Next customer.”

I heard the knock at the door even before she texted me.

This time she was loud and proud.

After a little less than an hour, I heard the door close.

“So many kinks,” she texted.

“What do you mean?”

“This one just wanted me to masturbate the entire time.  You have no idea how tingly my pussy lips are.  I had the Hitachi – thanks Daddy! – on my cunt for almost an hour!”

There was another knock at the door.

“Don’t I get a lunch break?!” she texted.

“No rest for the randy,” I texted back.

This time I heard what sounded like her being thrown against the wall in a rhythmic pattern.  I was worried.  I watched my phone like a hawk.  I thought the two of them were going to pound right through the thin wall into my room.

After about twenty or thirty minutes of the constant banging, I heard nothing at all.

Ten minutes later I heard a man’s voice yelling, “Whore!  Cunt!  Fucking Slut!”

A few minutes later I heard the distinct purr of Lola.

Then the door shut again.

“Are you ok?” I texted her immediately.  I was so concerned.

“Divine,” she wrote back.

“Please explain,” I responded, dryly.

“He was rough and violent and he said so many derogatory things to me. . .  I loved it!”

“Really?”

There was another knock at the door.

This time, after a while of no sounds, or at least none that I could hear, I detected Lo’s quiet voice saying, “I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”

Then it stopped.

At ten to five, I got a text: “I’m starving, Daddy.”

I was too enraged and jealous – yes, jealous! – to respond.

At five sharp, there was another knock at the door.

This time I heard nearly nothing except the loud groan of a man’s voice.

At five-thirty the door shut.

“Well, at least I got a snack,” texted Lo.

“Ready for dinner?” I asked.

“I’m always ready, and hungry, and horny.”

I knocked at her door, even though I had the key.  I was curious as to her reaction and I also thought it would be an ironic joke.

She answered the door the way I imagine she answered it for all the six other guys who had preceded me: wearing a black negligée that barely covered her ass and pussy.  Nothing else.  Her tits were practically falling out of it.

Lo, Dressed for Success

“You’re a welcome surprise,” she said.  “I actually thought you had booked me straight through to midnight!”

“Would you like that?”

“I’m a hard worker and I work best when my customers are hard.”

“Well, good news – you and I are going to grab dinner together.”

“First, where?  Second, I have no clothes, remember?”

I handed her a sleek black dress.  She had panties and bras and high heels in the room already.

She put on the heels, not the bra or panties.  She looked dressed more as if in a negligée than a party dress.  Her nipples were visible through the thin, shiny material.

She looked good – dirty, dissolute, disheveled, devilish, and desirable.

“Don’t you want me, Daddy?” she asked as she hiked up her dress and spread her pussy lips to show me the cum dripping out.   Whose cum?  Could have been anyone’s.

“Later, Lo,” I said.  “We’ve got reservations.”  I almost chuckled to myself as I said it.

“Really?!” she asked, excited as if we were still in our metropolis and able to pick from a few hundred eating establishments.

We walked out into the cool, dry Nevada night.

“No car?” she asked as we walked in the dirt across the parking lot.

“Here we are,” I said after about fifty feet, when we got to the door of the dive bar and restaurant across from the brothel.

“Here?!” she moped.

“Lo, there ain’t another Michelin rated restaurant for at least a hundred miles from here.”

“I don’t need Michelin rated, but I do need edible.”

“Relax, this place is fine.”

“We walked in like two invitees to the Emmy’s, only to find a juke box greeted us, followed by a long, worn wooden bar, and tables with plastic picnic-table cloths covering them, pitchers of Miller Light upon them, and people wearing cowboy hats unironically dancing.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked as all the male eyes in the place magnetically rested upon her sweet, antipodinal angelic aura.

“Couldn’t be any more serious,” I said as the kind hostess showed us to our picnic-table.

We ordered the less-than-mediocre meal and a pitcher of their finest Miller beer.

“Daddy,” Lo inquired, “do I have a busy day tomorrow?”

“All booked up – ten to six.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she said, almost admitting defeat.

“I believe in you, Lo.  Did you not enjoy today?”

She was quiet for a few seconds.  Pensive.  “I enjoyed it well enough.”

“What’s that mean – ‘well enough’?”

“I was hoping to get fucked like a broken screen door in a hurricane.  But only one guy was like that.  Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “that was wonderful, but the other guys – they were kinda weird, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

The meal came and Lo started eating like she hadn’t seen food in a week, even though the food was far below her standards.

She never completed her thought.

“I have something special planned for you tomorrow,” I said.

Her eyes lit up.  “Tell me!”  She can’t stand a surprise.

“Nope.  You’ll find out tomorrow.”

We finished our meal and ordered another pitcher of beer.  We weren’t driving, so, why not?

After downing two pitchers, we felt oddly attracted to the silly country dancing that we had observed among a few of the regulars.  We joined in.  Lo’s black, strappy heels were a comical contrast to the other women’s cowboy boots.  Lo’s sleek black dress also looked out of place among the other women in their jeans or denim shorts and plaid, button-down shirts.  But the biggest contrast was that the other women were all at least ten years older and heavier than Lo, by far.  They were like ranch hands.  It was clear that they were all married and moms.  Though the brothel shared a parking lot with this restaurant, it seemed as if the other prostitutes all went home to their husbands and families at the end of their shifts, or they went somewhere else, but they certainly were not grabbing dinner here.  I’m not saying any of that in a disparaging way, just pointing out the ways in which Lo stood out like a rosebush among the cacti.

And I wasn’t the only one to notice the difference.  The men in the place looked over their wives’ shoulders as they danced with them, staring at Lo.  The wives, for their part, gave Lo the meanest of looks, judging her and silently despising her.  They knew where she had been all day and where she’d be all night.  These good Christian women, with God, guns, and glory on their side, stood in judgment of Lo’s heretical goddess, gams, and gloryhole.

Perhaps mistakenly, we ordered another pitcher of beer to quench the thirst we developed while dancing.  Soon Lo was dancing in the arms of many of the different men at the bar, letting them feel her nipples over the sheer material of the dress, slide their hands down over the curve of her rear, and partially up her thigh.  I could tell Lo had a long day and was getting too tipsy to tear up the dance floor and so I politely cut in and escorted her back to her room where she had worked the day as an escort.

Samantha Massie reading Match, Cinder & Spark

Country Girls with Samantha Massie

Reverse View of Samantha Massie and friends

Samantha Massie and her besties

Samantha Massie and friends

One more of Samantha Massie’s behind

Back in the room, Lo quickly slipped out of her dress and into a slip, pulled out her Hitachi and her phone and began going at it on the couch as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth.  By the time I returned to where she had been stimulating her stretched and sore pussy, I found her, motor of the Hitachi still vibrating, her phone still open to the photos she was using to get off – pics of her friend Samantha Massie and her crew of country MILFs.  I had been in the bathroom for maybe three, four minutes max!  But by the time I came to the couch beside the bed – the same bed upon which she had prostituted her body – she was sound asleep with her breasts hanging out of her slip.

Lo, Sleeping with her Best Friend

The next morning I woke up early.  I snuck out with her dress.

“Daddy, where are you?” she texted.

“Errands,” I responded.

“What could you possibly have to do?”

“I guess not you.”

“What?”

“You fell asleep on me last night, leaving me hard up.”

“Sorry.”

“Should I find a prostitute?”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Can you fit me into your busy schedule?”

“I’m very flexible – I could probably fit you and a couple more guys in.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Time to find out how much more of this I can take.  Where’s my breakfast?”

“It should be there any minute now.”

“Well, my john is here now.”

There was another knock at the door.

“Oh, never mind.  Breakfast arrived,” she texted.

About twenty minutes and a few howls later, I heard the door close.

“How’s breakfast?” I asked.

“He fucked me as I ate it.  He said it was a real turn-on for him.”

“Full, or still hungry?” I texted back.

“I can always take a little more,” she wrote.

I heard the bath running.

I heard a knock at the door.

I heard Lo open it and talk to the customer.

About twenty minutes later I received a text.  “He jacked off to me as I took a bath.  That was easy!”

There was another knock.

Lo texted, “Daddy, they’re arriving every half hour.”

“That’s your surprise.  Today is economy class.  They only paid for thirty minutes.  Later they will be arriving every fifteen minutes.”

“What?!”  She included a number of emojis to demonstrate her displeasure with that.

There were three more visitors to her room before lunch.

“Will you join me for lunch?” she texted.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I knocked at the door.  She opened it wearing only a transparent and skimpy negligée through which I could see everything.

Lo, Falling Out

“You said you could fit me in.”

“That was before you told me my schedule.  I’m full up.”

“I hope not.  You have ten more appointments today.”

“Ten?!”

I finally walked in the door.  Lunch was delivered.  A sandwich, fries, and a lemonade.  I watched her eat as I observed the room.  It was a mess.  The bed was a mess and looked well-used.  Various undergarments were strewn around the room.  Used condoms were hanging over the side of the trashcan and were in it as well.

“How’s work?” I inquired.

She spread her legs for me to see the commingled cum of various men dribble out of her.

“It’s a complicated business,” she said in between bites, “a lotta ins, a lotta outs.  You know.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Everything tastes like cum,” she said as she put down her sandwich and took a sip of her drink.

“Your favorite flavor.”

“Do I have cum in my hair?” she asked.

I looked.  “A little.”

“The last guy was all about cumming on my face.”

“Bad aim?”

“No.  For the most part, he hit the target.”

“Any other standout performances?”

“One of the guys, I forget which one, wanted to use my ass.”

She knows exactly how jealous that makes me.

“Did you let him.”

“He paid for hit, didn’t he?”

“I suppose.”

“He went ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-mouth.”

“Covered all the bases.”

“Then he repeated it.”

“All in a half-hour’s time?”

“He made the rounds quickly.”

“Where did he finally arrive?”

“Ass, then mouth.”

“Well, you’ll have to speed up the spin cycle because all the rest of today’s engagements are only a quarter-hour.”

“Don’t you worry.  Just as I can make you cum in under five minutes, I will give each of them their money’s worth.”

“Your talent never ceases to amaze me!”

I left and returned to my post.  As I was outside, I saw the next customer pull up.  A middle-aged man with a wedding band on his left ring finger.

I slipped in the door to my hotel room as he knocked on Lola’s door.

Soon I could hear him knocking on Lola’s back door too!

He was gone quickly.

A new customer came in and exited in under fifteen minutes.  Lola texted me, “I had to pee when the last one arrived.  I told him so.  He asked to watch.  He stroked it as I was on the toilet and then came on my face as I continued sitting, fingering my clit in front of him.  It was hot!”

Cleanup

Ready!

Another customer.  Lo texted me after that this one had a foot fetish and came on her toes.

There were many more before her last appointment for the night.  The last one had paid for two hours and had a very particular fetish.  It was a husband and wife and they wanted Lo to dress up as a bride in white lingerie: mesh lace pushup bra, matching thong panties, harness suspender belt connected to white garters and of course a tiara with flowing lace veil.  I had packed all this for Lola with a note on it that said, “Finale.”  Now she understood what I meant by that.

They were into roleplay.  The husband and wife team told Lo that the scenario is that they are her parents on her wedding night and they are going to teach her how it’s done.

“You want to be sexy for your groom,” she said to Lo.

“OK, Mom, tell me how,” replied Lo.

“I’ll show you instead,” she said as she got naked and bent over the bed.  “Put your ass in the air like this.”

Lo stood next to her as if her magic mirror.  Gazing into the looking glass, the older woman beheld the younger.

Her husband approached her from behind and mounted her.

“Make sure you’re good and wet,” she instructed.

“Oh, Mom, I’m always wet.”

“He’ll enter you like so,” she said as she moaned.

“Is he big?” asked Lo.

“Try for yourself,” she said.

“Lola, spread your pussy for me,” he said to her.

Lola did as told, very dutifully.

He entered her.

“That’s it, honey,” said her ersatz mother as she grabbed Lo’s ass cheeks and spread them for her husband to penetrate her.  Then she got in front of Lo and began smacking at Lo’s tits as they hung down and undulated forward with each thrust from behind.

“Mom,” said Lo, “that hurts!”

“Does it?” she asked, pausing from pawing Lo’s breasts.

“I didn’t say stop,” said Lo.

The wife resumed slapping Lo’s tits, gently at first but gradually with more force as her husband also grew more forceful from behind.

“I think you have done this before,” said the wife.

“Once or twice.  Why?  Am I good at it?”

“So good,” said the husband.

“Are you going to cum?” asked his wife.

“Fuck, yes!  I am.”

“Cum on my tits!” said his wife.  “And let me taste you after,” she added, opening her mouth wide.

He pulled out of Lo and came right on his wife’s breasts as she held them together tightly.  Then he put his cock in her mouth for her to taste Lo’s juices.

“Lick me clean,” she instructed Lo.

Lo didn’t need to be told twice.

“That’s it.  You’ll make a good wife to your groom.  But, darling, I’m going to have to instruct him how to properly fuck you.  You don’t mind, do you?” asked the older woman.

“No, Mom.  He’s been hoping to be schooled by you.”

“Good.  I hope he’s longer and thicker than your father over there,” she said, nodding at the sated man in the chair.

“He is, by far!”

The couple eventually cleaned up and left, each of them kissing Lo goodbye first.

I then returned to my love and got the full story from her as she made passionate love to me, calling out numerous times, “Daddy, am I a bad girl?  Am I a slut?  Am I a proper, passionate, pliable little prostitute?”

“Yes, dear,” I said, “you’re a good whore, but more than anything else, you’re my whore.”

She liked that.  She liked that very much.

On the plane home, Lo turned to me and whispered, “Thank you Daddy, that was the most wonderful birthday present ever.”

“Birthday present? – it was your Valentine’s Day gift.”

“So I still have a birthday present coming to me?”

“You sure do!”

Her eyes lit up.  “When we get back?”

“If you’re a good girl,” I said, patronizingly.

She held my hand.  There was a silence during which I knew exactly what she was thinking.

Three, two. . .

“What is it?” she asked, right on queue.

“That would spoil the surprise.”

“But Daddy, I can’t wait.  Give me a hint.”

“No hints.”

She looked disappointed and then put her finger to her lips and furrowing her brow as if she were in deep thought.

“Now Lola,” I said, “if you do that, you’ll give yourself wrinkles prematurely.”

She looked at me, surprised.

“Do you think I’m getting wrinkles?” she asked in a panic, putting her hands to her forehead to smooth her skin.

“No,” I laughed, “no I don’t.”

“When do you think I’ll get wrinkles?  Do you think I’ll go grey?  You think my boobs will sag?”

“You realize, Lo, you’re ageist.”

“Ageist?  Me?  Impossible.  I’m dating you and you’re ancient!”

“You see.  There you go again.”

“Oh, come on,” she said.

“Well, thank God you don’t age.”

“No, I don’t, do I?”

“Not a day over twenty-four.”

“But I will be soon,” she said with fright.

“No you won’t.”

“What?”

“How old were you last year?” I asked.

“Twenty-four,” she said as if it were an obvious question.

“And how old did you turn the year before that?”

“Twenty-three.  Duh.”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“You turned twenty-four.”

“I think you failed math.  Twenty-three comes before twenty-four.”

“How old will you turn this year?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Nope.”

“We are in a plane, but are you high?  How ‘nope’?”

“Because, my dear, I am the author of this here story.  You have been twenty-four since we started this account of our sex lives together.”

She looked at me like I was crazy.

“OK,” I said, “how old am I?”

“That’s easy,” she said, looking a little nervous.

“Then tell me.”

“You’re fifty-something.”

“Fifty what?”

“Fifty-er-uh-something.”

“I had a birthday last year.  Remember?”

“Of course I do!  I got you a private stripper.  Do you remember?”

“Yes,” I said, dreamily.

She teasingly punched me, “Hey, I’m over here,” she said.

“And how old did I turn last year?”

“Fifty. . . one?”

“Nope.”

“Two?”

“Nope.”
“How old?”

“Fifty-something, exactly.”

“That’s silly.”

“I have always been fifty-something and you have always been twenty-four.  I will always be fifty-something and you will forever remain twenty-four.”

“Forever?”
I nodded affirmatively.  “Forever.”

She thought about it for a while before finally asking, “But I still get a birthday present?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then I’m ok with that.”

Lo Exhausted

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