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

Mano a Mano


            “Why don’t you just jack it like a real man?” she complained.

            “Because I prefer fucking your flapper to fucking my fist,” I responded.

            “But Daddy,” she said, in a nicer tone now, “don’t you know that I find it hot to see a man masturbating?”

            “Any man, masturbating to anything, or certain men, masturbating to you?”

            “I prefer men to masturbate to me, but seeing any man masturbating to anything still turns me on,” she said as she was rubbing her puss under the covers.  “Please, Daddy, just stoke it for me, over me, to me.” 

            “Maybe I’ll just get my Stoya Fleshlight,” I said, trying to arouse her jealousy so she’d give herself over to me completely. 

            “No!  If you do, I’ll get out my horse cock dildo and my Hitachi!”

            “That sounds fair. . . and fun!”

            “No,” she said, “I want you to use your hand and I’ll finger-fuck my holes.”

            “Fine,” I said, more willing to concede due to the prospect of watching her.  I pulled down the covers, got between her legs, grabbed my hard member, and pulled at it for her to see.

            “That’s it Daddio,” she said as she spread her legs wide, began inserting the fingers of her right hand into her puss and slid her left hand around from underneath her ass to penetrate her posterior place.

            “Did you make every man you were with masturbate for you?”

            “I didn’t have to make them,” she said.  “They volunteered.” 

            “Tell me about it.”

            “There are so many.  Which one?”

            “Tell me about Teddy.” 

            Teddy was her fuck-buddy in college.  A tall, lean, basketball player with an enormous cock. 

            “I’d lie in his dorm room bed and he’d stand over me with his huge black cock right over my face.  It was as long as my entire head.  He’d drop his balls in into my mouth and grab his rod with both hands.  Both hands!” she said with emphasis.  “He’d stoke it over me as I lay naked on the bed and then, when he came, he shot all the way down to my knees and covered me with his hot jizz up to my chin.” 

            I could tell that as she told me this story, she was on the verge of climaxing herself.  But she held back. 

            “Tell me about Gerald.”

            Gerald was also a college fuck friend.  The opposite of Teddy in every way, except Gerald was also an athlete – a bodybuilder whose bulging biceps attracted Lo until she found that he had a micropenis. 

            “He was so self-conscious about his size that, no matter how much I wanted to take him in my mouth, he was resistant.  My natural attraction for women made the prospect of licking that little clit so appealing, especially since he shaved it and his balls clean.  He wore a teensy-tiny speedo when he worked out.  It was like he was wearing panties.  I wanted to pleasure him with my lips and tongue all the time, since I obviously didn’t feel him in either of my holes,” she said as she fingered both of her holes more deeply. 

            “Did he jack it for you?”

            “It was the only way he could cum.  He’d pull that little pimple with his thumb and index finger as he stood over me, just like Teddy did, and then he’d ejaculate all over my face.  It was the only way he could feel dominant.”

            “How often did he do that?”

            “Countless times.  It always left me unsatisfied, but I liked it nonetheless.” 

            “You never met a cock you didn’t like.” 

            “Don’t stop,” she said, looking at my cock as my stroking slowed.  I pulled harder, longer, faster.  “That’s it,” she said.  Her whole hand was almost fully submerged in her pussy and two fingers were going at her perineum.

            “Tell me about Tim,” I said.  Tim was her beau before college and, since he was older and Lo significantly younger, sex with Lo was off-limits for him.  That didn’t mean that Lo didn’t try.  Lo always finds a way. 

            “He’s probably the one responsible for my male masturbation mania.  The only way he got off was by masturbating.  I would be fully clothed and saying sexy, naughty, dirty things to him like I’m doing for you right now, and he would jack it until he came.”

            “Where’d he cum?  On your face?”

            “No.  He’d cum into my hands.  I’d hold them out like I was receiving an offering and then I’d lick them clean like a kitten licking a bowl of milk.  He loved that.” 

            That was too much for her.  She came and came hard.  Her pussy and sphincter clutching and contracting on her deeply driven digits before eventually dilating again.  When she recovered, she looked at me and said, “You didn’t cum.” 

            “No.”

            “That’s not fair, Daddy.”

            “I don’t think so either,” I said.  “Why don’t you give me a hand-job?”

            “Because I’m going to fall asleep now,” she said.

            “That’s fine, just position your left hand like you’re giving the ‘OK’ sign, and I’ll do the rest.” 

            She complied.  I lay next to her and inserted my cock.  She said, “You’re just using me as a sex object.”

            I didn’t know what to say to that, but luckily she followed up the comment with, “And I like it.  It’s so soothing.” 

            Reviewing in my mind’s eye the stories she told, looking at her naked body next to me, I came and came hard all over her.  She had drifted off to sleep.  I grabbed a washcloth, wet it with warm water, and gently cleaned her off.  I kissed her mouth good night and lay next to her thinking about what a good bad girl she is.

            The next morning I awoke to find her face bobbing up and down on my erect shaft.

            “Lo?” I asked.

            She popped off of my knob and said, “I’m sorry you didn’t cum last night, Daddy.  Let me make it up to you.” 

            I didn’t disabuse her of that belief until after she accomplished her mission.  When I did, she just said, “You dirty dog!”

            “What?” I asked, innocently.  “You told me last night you wanted me to cum.  Was that just lip service?”

            “No it wasn’t.  But what I just did for you was.”

Winky Face and a Smile!

So, a while ago, our dear friend Cara Thereon posted some very sexy selfies and put out a request for fans to suggest poses.

We suggested she do a little “cumtribution” – her getting off to our pics/blog.  She wrote to us and very flatteringly requested some photos featuring HH.  They were duly sent and then today we saw these hot hot hot pics!!!

If you like excellent erotica and very sexy photos of one sexy and smart woman, then definitely check her out.

We have known Cara since the early days of our blogging – back when she used to blush at naughty photos and tell us how she would get too excited looking at porn.  (Is there such a thing as too excited?)  Now look at her, making us too excited.

Thank you, and we are looking forward to the sexy boudoir session next time your in our neighborhood!

xoxoxo,

Lola & HH

p.s. – Here’s the pics we sent her.

holdtight

handjob

lips41lips51

sidekick2

The XXX-Mas Party (Or, the Year Santa Came Early)

[This was published last year and remains a fan favorite.  Sorry the pics didn’t upload, but you can see more of me at: loladown.tumblr.com – feel free to write me and tell me what you’d like for XXX-mas: downloladown@gmail.com]

X-mas Cheer!

Walking in the front door on a cold day, snow accumulating on my fedora, Lo greets me in the entryway in merely a red slip.  I was concerned that her bare little feet would be catching a cold draft from the unforgiving wind outside.

“Wow!  That’s quite the warm welcome,” I say just before she smooches me.  “What’s the occasion?”

She then shows me what she has in her hands – what I failed to notice upon her first accosting me.  There are two tickets in her hand and she squeals out, “They finally came!”

“What came?” I inquire as I try to push past her to take off my overcoat, drop my briefcase, remove my shoes, and feel as if I’m home and not in transit still.

“The tickets to the gala.  You know, the gala where I get to be Santa’s sexy little helper!”

“Oh, yes, the interview you went for a month ago or so.”

“Yes, Daddy!  I got it.  A thousand bucks for one night!  And, the best part – they sent an extra ticket so I can bring a friend!”

“Have you thought about who you’re going to bring?”

She grabbed my chin as she looked me in the eye and said, “Don’t be so ridiculous, old man.  You know exactly who I’m bringing.”  She helped me off with my coat and followed me as I walked to the bedroom to change.

“Aren’t you excited?  This is a big deal.”

“Oh, yes, I’m very excited.  When is the gala?”

“December twenty-third, at nine.”

That meant that for about one week I would be hearing all about Lo’s preparation for her star performance.  And so I did.  She was all a-twitter with excitement, but because of the nature of the party, she was enjoined to tell no one except her guest.  So I got an earful that week.

Finally it was the night of the big event.  I had to wear my tux – which I don’t mind.  I enjoy taking the old thing for a spin now and again.  Lo was “preparing” from about five o’clock on.  These preparations included showering for an hour with her favorite toys, followed by an hour in bed moisturizing, massaging, and trying to seduce me – something I resisted with great effort!  I like to keep Lo hungry before events like this the way the Romans wouldn’t feed the lions before their performances.  Then she primped and dressed, and finally, we were ready to leave the house by eight fifteen – running late, as usual.

It was snowing lightly, but long enough for the streets to take on a gentle white glow.  We drove down into the inner depths of the heart of the city – an abandoned cavern of empty and dark skyscrapers silently silhouetted after all their workaday inhabitants have left them for the weekend.  This was an odd place to be hosting a Christmas party.  Driving cautiously through the winding, slippery streets of the oldest part of town, we found the building whose address was in gold letters on the black paper of the invitation.  It was a small, almost neoclassical church that, from the outside at least, appeared to have been abandoned by its congregation years ago.  It was dwarfed by the surrounding towers of business and finance and one could easily overlook it since, what must have been its side and back gardens had been sold to the sprawling glass structures that boxed it in.

There was a valet and two doormen checking tickets outside.  Inside was a study in contrasts.  The ceiling was chandeliers and beautiful columns.  On the floor it was a mob of stuffed shirts and pretty skirts and heels.  We had arrived at 9:15 and the place was already filling up.  Lo turned to me, passed me her coat and said, “Be a doll and hang this up.  I have to go get ready!”  She gave me a peck on the cheek and ran off to I don’t know where.

I wandered over to the coat check and a young lady in a skin-tight. . . it wasn’t a dress, it was more like a sheer muff stretched over her body from her breasts to just below her bum. . . took the two overcoats and handed me a ticket with a flirtatious smile.  I immediately spied the open bar and a table set out with numerous cheeses, dips, meats, and breads.  I made my way to the bar and got myself a top-shelf whiskey before wandering aimlessly around the building taking in the architectural subtleties.

Suddenly I was pleasantly surprised to hear the sounds of a string quartet playing some Bach and then Vivaldi, followed by Handel and Mozart.  It was the perfect accompaniment for my stroll around the church.  The people attending this soiree seemed to be an international crowd – not locals from our small city.  They were mingling and talking.  The ambient noise of their voices gradually grew as they increased in number.  I noticed that the lights were slowly dimming and the quartet was increasingly drowned out by the voices in the room echoing off the stone walls.

Then, when the place seemed packed to capacity and it was nearly impossible to get back to the open bar, the lights went off and a spotlight appeared on the stage across from the doors where we entered.  There I saw a tall man with silver slicked back hair address the crowd.  He spoke first in English and then translated into Italian, German, Russian and French.  Impressive.  He was welcoming everyone and asked us to settle in as the auction would begin soon.  To help with the charity drive auction he introduced Santa and his two helpers.

The curtains behind him parted and there, sitting among about twelve or thirteen framed paintings was a black man in a Santa costume.  On his left was a blond in a short little Santa red suit with white trim that came down just above her bum, revealing her red thong.  She wore knee high black leather heels, and a cute little Santa hat.  On his right was Lo dressed in a short, short red skirt, and a cute red and white half-jacket snugly buttoned up, concealing her breasts.  She wore red peek-toe heels and had a matching red scarf around her neck.

Of course, when hosting an auction to raise money the host has to insure that the participants are sufficiently loose and relaxed to part with their money.  To this end, two more open bars opened up on the left and the right.  Lo and her counterpart descended from the stage to pass out amongst the crowd the electronic devices that would be used for the silent auction.  They wandered the crowd with their red Santa pouches and I could see how Lo was flirting with the well-heeled men and women as she gave them their presents.  In order to keep track of the bidders, Lo had to enter their info into the computer which took a few minutes.  During this time the guests would make conversation with her; some of the men were daring enough to put their hands on her waist as they talked to her and some even felt her ass.  She took it all in stride with a smile and a wink.

When many drinks had been tossed back and people made to feel warm and welcome through Lo’s gracious giving, the auction began.  For each painting, Lo or her companion, alternately, would bend over in a revealing manner, pick up the item, and walk with it on stage left to right or right to left.  Above the stage, numbers would appear indicating the last highest bidder.  Santa would encourage the crowd and as he waited for the numbers to go up, whichever girl was not holding the item for auction would sit on his lap.

This went on for about an hour before they finally sold the last painting and raised over $250,000.  I never did find out what the charity was.  But after the main event of the night (or so I thought), somehow the lighting changed to strobes and flashing lights as dance music echoed through the chambers of the hall.  People’s stuffed-shirt inhibitions were forgotten and the once stilted crowd turned into a pulsing and throbbing throng.  The valuable pictures were removed from the stage and the MC of the evening returned.  He spoke to the crowd, only in English this time, and said that their bidding devices were equipped with texting.  They could send a message and it would appear on the screen above.

Santa & Elves

This crowd seemed to know how things worked.  I saw appear illuminated above the stage the words, “Lap Dance” followed by “$150.00”  Suddenly, as if waiting for this opportunity all night, Lo leapt up onto Santa’s lap, gyrating her hips into him as his greedy hands reached around under her half-jacket.  The crowd cheered her on.  Santa said, “And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?”  Lo leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

The words appeared, “Blow Santa” and “$500.00”  Lo got on her knees next to Jolly St. Nick and fumbled with his big black and silver belt buckle, digging into his red and white pants.  In the flashing lights of the dance hall Lo went down on his protruding cock.  Again there were hollers hooted from the dance floor.

The blond was standing behind Santa and she removed her red coat to reveal her red bra underneath.  Lo lifted her face out of Santa’s lap and the blond came over in front of him, took off her thong and sat down on Santa’s cock.  It was then that I looked up and saw the words, “Fuck Santa!”  The bid was $1000.00.  Lo removed the blonde’s bra and fondled and licked her nipples as Santa gave the petit blond more gifts than she could handle.  Lo, not to be out done, bent over Santa’s chair and, as if playing a tag-team game, tapped the blond on the shoulder.  Santa got up, removed Lo’s panties from under her short skirt, turned her so that we could all see the action in profile and in he went.  I could see Lo’s tongue react to the penetration by licking her teeth and lips as she does when experiencing pleasure and desire.

The crowd was enthralled and they began chanting as one, “Hard-er!  Hard-er!”  Santa’s giant pole was protruding and penetrating with pounding force into Lo’s wet puss.  Her mouth was wide open with shock of the enormity.  The crowd changed their chant to “Cum! Cum!  Cum!”  This seemed to distract Santa, but he kept on pounding with metronomic regularity until the crowd again changed their chant and taunted Lo with, “Ho!  Ho!  Ho!”  She loved it.  She glowed in their goading.  Then I noticed the blond get on her knees.  Santa had cum alright, all in, around, and on Lo.  The blond first licked Santa’s candy cane clean before turning to get every last drop of his spilt milk from Lo’s spread puss and ass.

On the screen above them it flashed “$10,000!  Merry XXX-Mas and to all a good night!”

When the party was over and Lo was on my arm as we walked through the white-laced vacant streets of the city, Lo asked, “Did you have a good time, Daddy?”

“Yes, Lo,” I said.  “Did you?”

“Mmmmmm hmmmm,” she hummed, followed by, “I hope Santa brings me what I asked for.”

“And what was that, my dear.”

She refused to tell me.  “Now is not the time, Daddy.”

We drove through the empty streets and as we did she leaned over, unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock, took it in her mouth, and licked and sucked it like a lollypop.

We got home and she changed back into her Santa’s helper skirt and half-jacket for me.  I bent her over – her hands on the windowsill – and entered her.  She let out a long moan.  I reviewed with her the various naughty provocations of the evening.  That just made her more and more wet.  Then I insisted that she tell me what she asked for from Santa.

“I said, ‘I want a dog and a pony, Santa,’” she said, adding, “Now fuck me like the bad dog you are, Daddy-O.”

Ready for Toys, Daddy!

Protected: Lust in the Dunes – Part VI: The Aesthete & the Slut

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