Protected: Putting the Fun Back in “Fundamentalism” – Part II: Satan’s Scrivener

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Protected: Family Fan Mail

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Keeping it Hot and Wet

Couples Reading Together Have More Fun

 

We are delighted to share with you the words and photos of a feisty married couple who have been enjoying Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts.

Actually, they go by the screen name of “Feisty Marriedcouple” and that is not false advertising!!!

They first got into the blog and sent us some photos of them getting off to pics on the internet. But then they got the book and sent us some new photos. Not only are they incredibly sexy (individually and together), but they manage to take great shots of themselves while in the act! Such talent!!!

Their first cumtribution

I hope you enjoy what they have shared.

Sometimes, when he’s away, she enjoys the blog alone.

“Hey Lola, we did get a chance to read a couple of stories this afternoon! We enjoyed them very much! We also took some pics while reading. Well, to be honest, we took a lot of pics before reading, then ended up fucking because we were so turned on. THEN we read some stories while she used her wand.”

Sometimes when she’s away he enjoys the blog alone.

“It was actually a lot of fun! And the stories are great! Great stories, beautifully written, and not dragged out for 200 pages. It’s like having Literotica distilled down to the good stuff and having it injected straight into your veins!”

But they enjoy the blog most together!

That’s it, jack off and cum!

What a nice cock. Will she be jealous?

Good boy!

 

I guess he really likes Lo

 

Recommended way for a man to read erotica.

Recommended way for a woman to read erotica (unless she’s being eaten out by another woman)

To be clear, orgasms can be had from the book alone, but why not add other forms of stimulation?

 

Do you want to read with me?

Is the book making you hard or my ass and cunt?

Reading between the lines

This should be required reading in college!

Bedtime reading

Art imitates life and then life imitates art.

Don’t forget to clean up.

A few more from our good friends:

 

 

Lola Loves Dick

Lola’s version

 

 

Lo’s version of the shower pic

 

Ready for Reentry Daddy

Lola’s Gifts

 

A Time to Love

Lola’s older sister, Roberta Go

“Gazing at the written world, seeing the elegant self-restraint that guards an inner decomposition, a biological decay until the last moment from the prying eyes of the world; that bilious, sensually disadvantaged ugliness that is able to kindle its smoldering fire into a pure flame and to even usurp the throne in the kingdom of beauty.”

Death in Venice, Thomas Mann

 

“Really?” asked Lo as I mixed the gin in with the tonic and sliced up a sliver of lime.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s not even noon.”

“What is time in a global pandemic anyway?”

We were two weeks into lockdown.  We were stranded in paradise.  Far away from our everyday hustle and bustle, cold weather, friends and family, we followed the dire warnings about travel a week into our winter vacation to the beachside resort town.  The sun was shining, the sea breeze gently moderating the temperature, the inviting golden sand beckoning us to walk through it barefoot.  But all the amenities of this place were off-limits.  One-by-one each pleasurable pastime was shut down, cordoned off, closed – first the bars and restaurants, then the beach itself, and finally the boardwalk.  We were allowed to walk on the sidewalks, but that was it.  There was nowhere to go anyhow.  We could take our lives in our hands and go to the supermarket to get necessities (if we could find them on the bare shelves), but we didn’t want to do that and we made as infrequent visits there as possible.

News of sickness, disease, and death were filtering into every media channel.  It seemed that even if we didn’t watch the news, we still couldn’t escape it – it was in the air.  The stock market was tumbling down off a cliff, unemployment was spiking, and anxiety was everywhere.  We couldn’t hug our neighbors for comfort, for they may be the vicious vector conveying the virus within their sincere attempt at reassurance.

Lola and I were utterly alone on the 25th floor of a resort hotel overlooking the vacant beaches and streets with nothing but the brilliant yellow, blue, and wisps of white for company.  On the horizon we could make out three giant cruise ships forbidden from docking for fear of their deadly cargo.  We were informed that the virus was rampant and people dropping with asphyxiation on the decks, desperately looking to the shore for some sort of assistance, in vain.

Death surrounded us.  So why not have a gin-and-tonic after breakfast?  I had plunged into nihilism.

Yes, I still had Lola as my companion, but there was little for me to write about regarding “my sexlife with Lola.”  Her trysts, flirtations, and dogging down by the pool area were prohibited by the pandemic.  Yes, she still masturbated three, four, five times a day, but I’ve written about that in such detail and with such frequency that there is hardly anything new I could bring to the topic.  Our lives beat on with the same monotony as the repetitive waves upon the shore.

Until one day our desperation to escape the gloom of death and destruction was relieved.  We found solace in the strangest of places.  While preparing for her Friday morning fap session, Lo was doing her usual foreplay routine which includes checking her elicit email account.  In it, she discovered a missive from her sister Robie, whom she hadn’t seen for a dozen years or more.  Even with me, she had only mentioned her in passing as her “estranged sibling.”  All I knew about her was that she was older and residing abroad.  How on earth did she find Lo’s secret email account?

After getting the email, Lo called me into the bedroom and explained some of the backstory.

“She’s older and when we were kids we slept in the same bed.  It became. . . interesting. . . when she grew boobs.  Long story short, we got caught, she got kicked out of the house and sent to boarding school and then to Europe.  We were separated for a long time.”

“Why did she suddenly write to you now?” I asked.

“I’m getting there,” said Lo, still naked under the sheets, slowly stroking between her legs as she spoke, “During COVID lockdown she needed something to help her get off.  She was scouring the internet to find the really dirty stuff.  She came across (and to) our blog and, because I don’t show my face, was fapping to it regularly, not knowing it was me – her sister – that was making her horny, until one day she noticed something that gave me away.  She reached out and sent this photo of her with the ebook of Match, Cinder & Spark.”

Robie with our ebook

She showed me the photo.  I was in a state of shock; first by the events that led to this interaction and then by the family resemblance I saw between Lo and Robie.

“She’s beautiful,” I uttered unconsciously.

Lo took offense.  Always jealous.

“I mean, she looks so much like you.  It’s a compliment.”

Apparently Lo, being the younger sister, always took a backseat to Robie.  My comment brought back all those jealousy issues.

Since that first email exchange as adults, the two have reconnected on a number of levels, not least of which is that they frequently get off to each other long-distance.

I suppose the ever-present, yet occasionally more pressing, specter of death can reunite as well as rend.

Robie showing that she has been using Lo to get off

Free Books Benefit Everyone!

Hey Friends, Fans, and Fiends out there!  As you all know, we had a Valentine’s Day promotion to help people through the difficult times of COVID-19.  We sent a free copy of our books to fans and all we asked in return was that they send back some sexy photos of themselves with our book strategically placed.  Well, the friends with benefits program is paying off.  We are pleased – very pleased – to help promote some of our fans with a Twitter “OnlyFans” account and also present to you other, non-professional, fans who wrote back to us.

First we have the sexy Samantha Massie, a.k.a. Southernbella1.  She is a real Southern belle, hailing from Georgia, raised in a very proper Christian household, she and her hubby, Justin, have three young kids.  Though she’s a certified medical assistant (CMA), she’s trying to make ends meet for the family and to earn enough to go back to college to get her registered nursing degree.  After she asked her friend and professional photographer, Dan, to take some boudoir photos of her as a gift to her hubby, he liked what he saw so much that he encouraged Samantha to monetize her assets on Twitter.  He suggested posting sexy nudes on her OnlyFans page (southernbella1).  He fully supports her in this and, who knows, maybe even wants her to be a hotwife someday like me!  Please go out and support Samantha and her college goals and her family by subscribing to her Twitter OF page.  You will be very glad you did!!!

We will be having more of our promotional stars soon. Write in to us if you would like to be on the list for our May is Masturbation Month promotion!!! downloladown@gmail.com

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie

Samantha’s sexy feet

Samantha Massie

Samantha Massie

Interview With a Nympho

[A word to our sponsors – that’s YOU. Recently a dear reader wrote in to say that he had difficulty subscribing to our blog. We reached out to our beloved tech guy – our Knight in Shining Armor – and he took care of the problem right away. If you have any questions or concerns about subscribing or anything else, please write to us so we can help you out: downloladown@gmail.com. Please subscribe and get all the sexy stories every month!!!]

Working from home? Enjoy mysexlifewithlola as you do.

[I, Lola Down, recently was asked to do an interview about my sex-life under lockdown. Even though HH just wrote an article about it for Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, I was happy to give an interview in my own words. It ended up on the cutting room floor, but here it is for your reading pleasure.]

1. How has your sex life changed since practicing social distancing?

My sex life with my man, HH, is pretty much the same. I mean, we have lots of time together and, actually, that’s been great for both of us. But, to fill you in on our relationship, he’s in his fifties and I’m in my mid-twenties. His libido isn’t quite where mine is. In fact, he says that my libido outstrips that of a teenage boy. Well, maybe he’s right. So between us, things have remained the same — about once or twice a day. However, with “social distancing” (which is really physical distancing since I am still very social, just physically distant) I cannot meet men and women in person like I used to. HH and I have an understanding. I’m given free reign (to be a ‘hotwife’) and he saves himself for me. But now, all my hotwife activity is only virtual — through email (downloladown@gmail.com) or tweet or other social media. There’s a lot of men and women out there who are trapped. Either they’re alone or they are with partners that don’t satisfy them. They’re happy to find me.

Caught!

2. What is it like when you do decide to leave your apartment, flat or home?

Where we are, when we go out it’s probably much like where you are. People walking around or jogging or biking. Some have masks on, some don’t. I get really upset at those joggers who sneak up on you and don’t have a mask on and they come within a foot of your personal space. Go jog somewhere else! You know? Shopping is a pain, but you know, as they say, we’re all in this together. I can’t complain any more than the next person.

3. How do you control your urges or cravings on a daily basis?

Working from home makes it easy. Simply put, I don’t have to “control my urges or cravings” as much as I would at work. I can simply hop into the bath, turn on the warm water, spread my legs and have a little mid-day me-time. No sneaking around to the office supply closet or an empty bathroom.

Lola Social Distancing

4. What is the hardest part of being a sex addict in quarantine?

Am I a sex addict? Like Jessica Rabbit says, “I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way.” HH depicts me as a sex-craved nympho. I just think I’m sex-positive with a healthy libido. I think that this “social distancing” is as draining on me as anyone. I thrive on social interaction. The other day I woke up and turned to HH and said, “I had such a vivid dream. I was at a restaurant and had just finished an excellent meal and a great cocktail. I even asked for the bill. It was amazing!”

“Was it as good as a sex dream?” he asked.

Honestly, it was better. I just want to be outside with people, dining out, seeing and being seen, dressing up or dressing down and, did I mention, being with people? Zoom just doesn’t do it for me.

Write me!

5. How do you cope as a sex addict in quarantine?

Didn’t the CDC say that sex with yourself is the safest sexy you can have? Well, I try to follow rules. Except when I break them. No, just kidding. That’s a rule I don’t break. I have a lot of self-pleasure sessions. Nothing new there, really. But now I can’t just call up a friend and have him or her come over to give me benefits.

6. Are you still having sex with other people while in quarantine? If so, please explain.

No sex in real life, just in my imagination. I had another crazy sex dream about Peter Dinklage the other night. I know, right? If only he and I were dining together in my dream. . .

7. How often are you watching pornography, using sex toys, or engaging in sex addicts that do not involve a partner while in quarantine?

Daily, hourly, right now. . . I mean, if you’re reading this, I’m engaging with you, right?

Age Gap

[We interrupt our regularly scheduled story (from the “Mount Bliss” mini-series) to bring you this tale of epistles and dildos.]

 

“Guess who got fan mail?” sung Lola teasingly.

“Oh, what a mystery,” I said flatly, “let me see. . . could it be Lola?”

“Well, uh, yeah.  Duh.  But in addition to me, guess who else.”

“I?”

“Yes you, Shakespeare!”

“And am I allowed to read this love letter?”

“Who said it was a love letter?”

“I just assumed.”

“Here,” she said, abruptly shoving the computer over to me at the breakfast table.

I looked at the email.  It read:

Dear Lola,

Eric asked me to write you something about his special experience with you.

You and my boyfriend Eric have had chats, I know.  He`s always busy with drawing ladies from the internet.  I don’t mind, as long as the women are total strangers and from the other side of the world and I don’t have to be his model.  And we promised each other that real sex is exclusively between us.  He can ‘use’ me anytime he likes. Luckily for him I also like sex very much, so he’s a happy camper.

He tells me everything and shows me all his work.  I must say, he has got some talent but he’s no Rembrandt yet.  It turns me on sometimes when he’s busy drawing.  He sure knows his female anatomy.  At least he knows mine real well.

He told me that you would like Eric to ejaculate all over the pictures you send.  I asked him if he would do that.  He said: If you are ok with it?

I said, I don’t mind as long it’s a pic and not for real.

The thought of him jerking off over your pic was actually exciting me!  So I suggested to help him a little. . . .  That he didn’t expect.  LOL.

We agreed to do it that night.  That night I got him naked.  I kept my shirt and panties on.  I watched him stroking his cock.  It was rock-hard from the start.

I whispered some dirty words in his ears, reading from your blog, and brushed my big soft tits on his back and arms and everywhere.

I got excited a little too.  Seeing him stroking his cock for another girl and me working him up, I was soaking my panties.  I saw some precum on his cock.  I licked it away, pulled my shirt up and let him suck my breasts.  I grabbed his cock as he looked at your photos and I read to him as best I could – one eye on the words and one on his rod.

It wasn’t long before he came all over you.  I mean, all over your pic.  I must confess I swallowed a lot of it.

After that we made this photo for you. Hope you like it.

I got so horny that I wanted him to lick me and he made me come.  I was really dripping wet. After that he penetrated me real tenderly.  Only after half an hour did he eject another load in my pussy.  He obviously had to reload.  LOL.  He even ate my cream-pie!  It was great!

So Lola, thanks for the question you asked.  You are looking very young and lovely.  How old are you?  And have you ever had experience with women?  I don’t mind that.  And how is your boyfriend looking?  And do you have sex often?  Maybe we can exchange some nice pictures?

We hope to hear from you!

Bye now and kisses,

Eric and Charlotte

From Eric and Charlotte

“Lo,” I said after reading it.

She looked up at me, anticipating my reaction.

“It’s all about you.  She wants you.  This isn’t fan mail for me.  It’s adoration of the goddess for you!”

“She said she was reading your writing.”

“One line of the entire letter indirectly alludes to me and you call it my fan mail?!  Good grief!  A bigger egomaniac I never met!”

“Egomaniac or nymphomaniac?  Which is it?”

“Both!!!”

“Fine,” she said.  “I was just teasing with that.  Here’s the real fan mail,” she said, clicking on a different message from her in-box.

I read:

Dear H.H.,

Your power with words penetrates me deeply.  It’s so potent that I lose myself and end up in a place where I am with both of you.  You’re that good!  You’re the type of good that I can begin to feel you.  All I want is to reach through my screen and kiss you.  Taste you.  I’m very selfish, so I may just have to have you all to myself while Lola watches us. Be forewarned.

xoxoxo,

Jen X

Jen X

She also sent a few sexy photos of her as attachments.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked because she usually keeps me at a “healthy” distance from temptation.  Except her temptation, of course.

“I thought it was sweet.”

“It was sexy and direct.”

“Just like me.”

“Exactly, which is why I’m suspicious of your motives.  You despise anyone who attempts to seduce me.  Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No no no,” she laughed as she got up from the table and moved very close to me.  “Show me you love me.”

“I show you with my words.”

“I want you to show me with your cock.”

“Lo, it’s eight in the morning on a Sunday!”

“Exactly.  This could be our fun day.”

“I get it now,” I said.  “You showed me that to arouse me.  You are only interested in getting your needs met.”

“On Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, sex is the top tier.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Well, it’s up there.”

“No it’s not.  Self-Actualization is top.”

“Well, I’m just going to have to go self-actualize myself, if you’re not going to do it for me.”

She sauntered to the bedroom, removing an article of clothing with each couple of steps down the hall.

As you well know, dear reader, Lo is half my age and at least double my libido.  As much as I try to satisfy her cravings, putting logs in the fire so to speak, it only makes a bigger fire of desire that burns through the logs twice as fast.  Buddha was well aware of this maddening math.  I’ve tried to steer clear of becoming consumed by coitus and I’ve finally reached an age where I can transfigure the intensity of my love from physical acts to intellectual creations.

“Your writing is just mental masturbation,” Lo called down the hallway.

“And your masturbation is just. . .physical. . . masturbation,” I responded with a repartee that fell flat as the pancake I was eating.

I turned the computer back toward me and scrolled through Lo’s other fan mail.  Something caught my eye.  It was an exchange between her and a man named Nero Black.  Nero is another middle-aged married man.  Like me, his wife spends much of her sex-drive on self-pleasure, getting off to all manner of taboo literotica.  Unlike me, she doesn’t first try to use him as a sex toy.  In their exchange, Lola had encouraged Nero to sneak mysexlifewithlola.com into his wife’s reading list somehow, or to buy one of the books or the audiobook for his wife to read.  Lo was convinced that if the two of them were to enter into the dregs of desire together, they would find each other there in the darkness of their depravity.

But for whatever reason, Mr. Black was hesitant to take Lo up on this suggestion.  He was in a sexual rut.  His wife was busy getting herself off in the bedroom while Mr. Black was jacking off in the bathroom.  But rarely did the two sex drives cross paths.  Unable to convince Mr. Black to break this pattern, perhaps because he was secretly fond of it, Lo did the next best thing – try to get Mr. Black to get off to her.

Mr. Black had written about how his wife caught him stroking himself to some porn in the bathroom and she just ignored it, with the exception of a snide remark, as if that kettle wasn’t blacker than Mr. Black.  Lo then clamored to Mr. Black to please please please use her photo next time he has a hankering for a wankering.  She even sent him a variety of choice shots to shoot his load to.  She was also hoping he would get caught by the Mrs. while looking at Lo’s image.

There is a certain pattern that emerged from the correspondences I found in Lo’s naughty letter box.  The women who wrote to me were all younger.  I guess I’m so old that statistically speaking, almost all of them will be younger.  And the men Lo wished to worship her were all older – around my age, and mostly married.

It’s true that, like Charlotte, there were a number of women around Lo’s age who also took a fancy to Lo.  But there most decidedly was an age gap between our respective fans.

A dug a little further and saw that dear Mr. Black had indeed used one of Lo’s pornographic images to find his sweet release and he even paid Lo the highest compliment of writing about it!

I walked into the bedroom to find Lo making sweet love to the greatest fuck of her life – herself.

“What is this?!” I demanded, not waiting for her to complete the self-impalement that she was engaged in with her glass dildo.

She didn’t stop.  She looked up, her right hand still rapidly thrusting in-and-out between her legs.

“Get behind me,” she commanded, evading the question and turning on all fours at the same time.

I thought she wanted me to replace the dildo with my own tool.  I was wrong.

“Grab it,” she said, indicating the handle of the dildo.  “Fuck it,” she said, indicating her pussy.  “Faster,” she said.  “Harder,” she said.  “Deeper,” she said.

As she gave me instructions, she scrolled through her photos until she came to one that tickled her fancy.

Her pussy exploded, rocketing out the glass dildo like a missile propelled by a water cannon!  She’s lucky that her discharge was aimed back at me and down at the bed or else her computer would be beyond repair.

When the waterworks were over and I had dried off, Lo was in the bathroom doing who-knows-what.  I looked at the image and accompanying story that had set her off.

“Wait!  What?!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t look!” she called to me from behind the bathroom door.

But there’s some things you just can’t unsee.

It was an illustration, thank goodness, and not an actual photo.  With it was a confession from an older woman who reported to Lola that she found her son looking at Lo’s photos and the blog.

The mother tried to use the opportunity as a “teaching moment.”

She said to her son, “It’s ok, son, Dad also gets off to Lola Down.”

“I know,” he said, ashamed, his face in his hands, “This is his computer.”

“You see,” she said, consoling him, “It’s normal.”

“But,” he began haltingly, embarrassed to say the next few words, “I’m logged on to your account.”

The mother tried not to flinch or to show any sign of embarrassment herself.  Teach by example.  It was true, she had found the blog through her husband’s search history and she had secretly fapped her snatch to it.  But now the family secrets were revealed and they revolved around Lola.

Sorry to see her son’s erection had not dissipated even through this difficult conversation, the mother offered, “Let me help you.  You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Wow!  I can’t even go into the details of what this housewife and mom shared with Lola about what happened next, but I think you get the idea.

Now, I thought, I bet that’s a story that Mrs. Black would really enjoy.

Hallmark of a Happy Hotwife

 

Lola helps her bf cum

Writing is a solitary act.  Writing a sex blog is not.  Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.

“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.

Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean?  Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”

After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.  I love helping couples cum together.”

My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.

A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.

“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.

“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.

“Justin.”

“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”

Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.

“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.

“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”

“What is?”

“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”

“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”

“I recommend you get it hard.”

“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.

“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”

One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him.  She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men.  The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”

One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.

“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.

“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.

“Do men just want to see your pussy?”

“No,” she said, “women do too.”

“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”

She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“Oooo, what sort of game?”

“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”

“Funny, but no.  Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”

“I can’t, I have to get to work.”

“Just bend me over and fill me up.”

“It’s not a Quickie Mart.  I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”

“Why not?”

I walked over to her.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart.  I touched her inner thigh.

“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Then I should be doing you.  I wanted you last night,” she said.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”

“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”

“You didn’t say you wanted me.”

“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”

“I like to hear you say it.”

She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed.  She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips.  “Get back in bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“What do you want?”

“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”

I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit.  “OK.”

She fondled me more.  “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”

“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”

“Fuck me.”

Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”

“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me.  I’m always open.”

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a lot of things to do.  You were just first on the list.”

I went to work.  It was her “work at home” day.  Yeah, right.

When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.

“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said.  “Feed me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your meat.”

This was as close as a request as I was going to get.  I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her.  I reached down between her legs.

“You’re sopping wet.”

“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”

“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.

“I jilled it this morning.”

“Without me?!”  Again, faux-surprise.

“I got lonely.”

“Lonely or horny?”

“Both.”

“So you jilled it all morning?”

“Not all morning.  It went into the afternoon.”

“And you still want me now?”

“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.

“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”

“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”

“What do you think this is, golf?”

“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”

“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.

I was poised to penetrate her.  She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit.  She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.”  Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that.  Yes.”  Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”

I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you.  I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”

“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my lunch.  That’s what I came home to do.”

“But what about me?” she whined.

“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”

“And diddling my bean!”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”

“Don’t go!” she pleaded.

“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”

“Get in the bed and fuck me.”

“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”

“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”

“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.

“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”

“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”

I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.

I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”

It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”

“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling out.  “I’m going to go out for lunch.”

I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.

I popped back in and looked at her.

“Unarmed?” I asked.

Another pillow flew at me.  I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.

Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”

“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”

“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”

I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”

When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.

“It’s not a sundress.  It’s a shirt.”

“Well, it should be a sundress.  What an ass!  You look great in that sundress!”

“It’s not a sundress!”

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“No.  But I think it’s cute that you want to.”

“You look so good.  Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”

When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.

“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up.  Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.

“What?”

“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”

“Robert?!  Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  I should have told you.”

“When did these plans happen?”

“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.

“Lo.”

“After you left.  I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”

“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.

“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.

“No,” I said.  “I’m tired and I’m hungry.  I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”

“That still might happen,” she said.  “The night is young.”

“And I’m old.”

“You can say that again.”

“And I’m old.”

“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”

“You weren’t even born then.”

“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you.  I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you.  You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”

I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.

Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.

“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.

“Did you jack off to it at work?”

“No!”

“Well why not?  You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know.  A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work.  I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”

“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”

“Precisely.”

“But I can fuck you at home.”

“It’s not the same.”

Just then the doorbell rang.  Robert was at the door.

“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.

“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.

“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”

“Not longer than an hour?”

“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”

I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out.  “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.

Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”

I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table.  No Robert.

She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.

One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”

“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’  You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”

“That’s funny,” she said to me.

“Shake a stick at?”

“Yeah.”

“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her.  “How was your dinner date?”

She didn’t answer my question.  She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.

She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me.  She clearly wanted me to fuck her.  But I wanted her to ask.  She said, “You have to learn to intuit.  Intuit!  Intuit!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face.  Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.

She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.

A breathy moan.

She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.

She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.

“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”

“Well, I think you need to take a break.”

“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”

“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”

“It enhances the experience.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.

She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.

She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife.  “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”

“Such a sincere sentiment.  It should go in a Hallmark card.”

“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.

“What is?”

“A line of Lola greeting cards.”

“Perhaps you could create them.  I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”

And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s quite alright.  Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm.  Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”

“I’m sorry!” she said again.

“It’s ok.  I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”

“It was hardly premature,” she said.

She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before.  Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.

“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.

I couldn’t answer.  I was too busy imagining her with Robert.

“Did you get a good meal?  Did it fill you up?  I was so full up,” she said.

I was speechless.

“Were you thinking of me, Daddy?  Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me?  Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”

“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”

“No, Daddy.  We just fucked.  He bent me over the table and fucked me.  Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table.  The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all.  Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass.  Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another.  He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care.  I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet.  Fuck me!  Fuck my holes!  I said, but he came and came deep in me.  He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”

She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum.  And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously.  So much that it came out of her nose.  She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.

“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.”  I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”

Lola’s Christmas Card