Interview with Author, Dominatrix, and F-Girl Emme Witt-Eden

This week our good friend and talented writer, Emme Witt-Eden, a.k.a. “Mysterious Witt,” became a full-fledged author with the publication of her memoir: Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl. (You can read our review here.)

She was generous enough to sit down with us for an interview about the book, writing, marriage, and of course, sex.

Promo for Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

 

L – Congrats on your new book, Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl! And thank you for letting me (or us – me and my man, H.H.) read it ahead of time to write a review. We loved it! We each devoured it in about three days. When we got together to talk about it, we devoured each other. What a sexy ready. But it’s also so personal – I mean, it is a memoir after all. Since it is a memoir, as opposed to an autobiography, it only portrays a sliver of your life – from the time your marriage fell apart to your emerging as a self-aware, self-confident f-girl. Tell us how you’d characterize yourself in your marriage and before. I mean, in the memoir you say you “claimed” your sexuality, not “reclaimed it,” because you felt like you never actually had it to begin with, but what was your sexuality (real and fantasy life) like before?

EWE – Ha-ha! I wouldn’t characterize myself as a completely self-confident f-girl in my book. I was still suffering from quite a bit of insecurity and was working my way through this throughout the entirety of the book. But I did definitely find myself again through sex, even though I still met with other challenges, such as some bad matches in bed and a guy who totally broke my heart.

But back to the other part of your question. I would say that my sexuality has fluctuated quite a bit throughout my life. I was very prude and full of shame in my younger life, even if I had sex for the first time at 15. I really didn’t enjoy penetration and a lot of it was because I felt like I was doing something bad. I come from a very conservative family and sex was always framed as something that I was giving up to a man who would use me if I wasn’t careful (and prude). And even after I got married, I should still feel shame surrounding sex, because my parents definitely treated their sex life – or what I knew about their sex life – in that way. Sex was something to hide at all costs, they were not going to talk to me about it, and I was not allowed to ask about it. I hate to say, but as I came into my own as a young woman, I suffered quite a bit from the mother wound, meaning my mother had a very negative view of sex, and I, sadly, adopted that.

I only started to open up – sexually speaking – when I became a dominatrix after college (pre-marriage!). But I didn’t see that job as sexual. I thought domming was just about treating men like garbage. (If you’d like to learn more about this era of my life, please read my newsletter The Accidental Dominatrix.) Nevertheless, my job as a pro-domme helped me deal with some of my shame. Little by little, my body image improved, and I started to explore myself sexually. And yet, during that time, I still maintained the belief that I had to keep my body count low or no man would ever want to commit to me. I did not embrace, nor did I completely own my sexuality, in that era, though I was on my way to getting there. This is why I say that I only finally “claimed” my sexuality after I left my first husband, as even when I was working in the sex industry as a dominatrix, I was still quite prude and felt like I was always at the mercy of men whom I let have so much control over me emotionally.

Fortunately, after my divorce, I finally worked through these issues. Finally, I was able to enjoy sex just for sex – and that was incredibly liberating! In that regard, I say that I finally “claimed” my sexuality. I hope that makes sense.

And…. to fully answer your question, I would say that I did have some BDSM fantasies even when I was working as a pro-domme. I had the desire to be dominated, but for the reasons I explained, I wasn’t ever able to experience it in a satisfying way. Back then, kink wasn’t viewed as it is today, as this fun thing that’s pretty benign, just a way to spice up sex. Back then (this was the 90s), kink was seen as a pathology. Though I had kink fantasies, when I would tell my lovers about them, they always thought I had some sort of mental issue. This was extremely painful and I’m very glad that we’re much more open today about the healthy, normal reality of kink.

A little cross-endorsement from Emme Witt-Eden

L – You’ve been in the lifestyle for some time now. As I recall, you used to not show your face in your posts on Medium.com and other social media, but now you do. Does this mean you’re “out” to your friends and family? And, I guess most importantly, does your ex-husband David know about this memoir?

EWE – Yes, you’re right, there was a time when I didn’t show my face because I was very keen on protecting my family from scandal. LOL. But seriously, I have kids whom I wanted to protect. I was also protecting my conservative family from embarrassment and pain. I’ve already been told that I’ve hurt my family. Quite a few of my family members know about my dominatrix past. It’s just so much pressure on me to feel like I’m bringing people so much pain just for exploring and writing about my own sexuality. I know this sounds crazy! But to make everyone happy and to keep the peace I once decided to hide my identity.

Not just that, there’s a part of me that likes privacy. I have a social life with other parents from my kids’ school and I just don’t feel like having to explain some of my life choices to these people. And I think many of us are like this. We have a face we show one set of friends and colleagues and a face we show another. We might have a professional face that we show our workplace friends, but they don’t know what goes on in our bedroom. I’ve happened to have chosen to make a profession out of what goes on in my bedroom and so it’s created this tension. A lot of people are simply not the appropriate recipients of the spicy news of my sex life. So, when they find out about it, I have to first listen to their judgments, and then decide whether we’re going to continue to be friends. This has basically resulted in me having much fewer friends, because, as a rule, people are very close-minded.

A couple of years ago, when I decided to show my face, several things had happened. I realized that I wasn’t going to get ahead in my writing career unless I started revealing what I look like. And when I did, I knew I would lose people. And so I basically had to get to the point where I was so tired of hiding parts of myself that I realized it was better to lose everyone. I’m just not interested in perpetuating the balancing act of ensuring certain people like me by hiding so much of myself. I’m finally ready to own up to who I am and that’s why I started showing my face. Of course, I still write under a pseudonym for now. Part of that is to just protect myself from trolls. It’s a crazy world out there, I’ll tell ya. Oh, and David does know I’ve written about him. He doesn’t care enough about my writing to give a crap, though. God, I’m glad we’re divorced.

L – Are your kids old enough to know about your “alternative” lifestyle? Have you told them or did they find out? Or will you be telling them at some appropriate time?

EWE – My kids still aren’t old enough and it’s really not appropriate for me to talk about it with them. However, my second husband, the man whom I’m currently married to, really applauds the way that I talk about sex with my kids. I’m very open and I talk about sex in a very calm and clinical manner. I don’t clam up and feel shame or tell my kids to stop asking questions. My current husband wasn’t like that with his kids and so he looks at my openness as this wonderful thing. I am able to guide my children as they learn about their sexuality, and I can do this in an open and honest way. And that is the result of the life I’ve led. But when the time is right, when my children older, I will tell them more about my life. I no longer feel shame. I’ve led the life I have because I’m curious and felt like a major part of my humanity was basically off-limits to me because I’m a female. I simply decided to explore those taboo territories. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Emme Witt-Eden

L – In the book you mention taking a creative writing class (and crushing on the professor). Would you workshop your erotic stories in the class, or did you keep it PG for the other students (and the hot professor)?

“Hey Emme, where you going?”
“My creative writing class.”

EWE – Hells no, I never workshopped my erotic stories in class. But I was writing a novel about the implosion of my marriage. It was basically a thinly veiled memoir, and a couple of those chapters did make it into Confessions, though in different form. I published a lot of the other stories under a different account on Medium. Yep, I get around… But no, I have never workshopped my erotic stories, and honestly, even my novelized stories have scandalized people. Sometimes I really hate other writers. I find writers to be the most conservative group of creative people. Musicians and visual artists are so much more chill.

L – What inspired you to turn your shorter works of writing into a book-length memoir?

EWE – Once again, I felt like I could get farther ahead in my career by actually having a book. A book gets people’s attention the way shorter pieces don’t, even though my shorter pieces have been quite lucrative. But writing a book is also a huge risk. If a shorter piece bombs, it’s no big deal, you just write another one. If a book bombs, then you’ve spent quite a while writing it and that sucks. Fingers crossed this project does well.

L – Care to share some of your favorite authors and/or books?

EWE – In the last year, I’ve been reading a lot of Annie Ernaux, Virginie Despentes, and Guadalupe Nettel. In my heart, I’m a literary fiction fanatic. Oh, and Maggie Nelson’s books are the bomb.

L – Care to share some of your favorite erotic authors and/or books and/or porn?

EWE – I like Japanese porn a lot because the actors tend to look like they’re actually enjoying the action, instead of just acting for the camera. American porn is so histrionic with the actors acting so fake, continually looking toward the camera because they know they’re being filmed. It’s obvious it’s a performance, and as a female, that’s a turn-off for me. Men probably don’t notice it, but I do. I’m not sure how you categorize your Match, Cinder & Spark series, but your man, HH, writes some of the best erotica I’ve read! And the photos and art of you are – well, let’s just say “inspiring”!

Emme Witt-Eden getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts, in public. An author, avid erotica reader, dominatrix, and exhibitionist!

L – I noticed in the memoir that, with all the f-girl shenanigans you got up to, there was no girl-on-girl, anal, bondage, or water sports. You make it very known in the book what you do and don’t like. Are those not on your kinks list or did you grow into them later?

EWE – Oh, there was a little bit of bondage in the first chapter of Confessions. You’ll have to wait for the girl-on-girl action for the new book I’m writing. In terms of anal, that’s not something that I typically engage in as a hookup, so there wasn’t much in this book. Luckily, my current husband is the one who gets to enjoy having his dick up my ass. In terms of water sports, that’s something I explored as a dominatrix but honestly, I’m not really into that.

L – What advice, if any, would you give to young married mothers who are in committed, but rather unstimulating relationships, somewhat like you were in just at the start of the memoir?

EWE – My advice? Well, they committed to this guy for a reason, so they might as well make the best of it. I would advise doing everything they can not to let the passion die. I would schedule date nights and sex. A lot of people don’t like to schedule sex because they think that’s not romantic. Well, this is just the way it is once you get married and have kids. We can no longer drop everything and have sex whenever we want. So schedule sex. Don’t, and watch the passion fizzle away.

Then again, if you’ve tried everything and it’s still not working out, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with considering a divorce. That or an open marriage. Non-monogamy is no longer perceived as the crazy thing it once was, so I think it’s a great way to deal with mismatched libidos

L – Any bucket list goals you hope to achieve this year?

EWE – I really want to get the sequel of this book done!

L – What can we expect from future publications by you?

EWE – You can expect my second book in this series: Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-girl in Costa Rica. And then my third: Diary of a Middle-Aged Sugar Baby.

L – Thanks Emme! We cannot wait to see those books come out as well as a prequel about your time as a dominatrix!!!

You can find Emme Witt-Eden, a.k.a. Mysterious Witt here:

F-girl dating Instagram: @mysterious_witt

Kinky consultant Instagram: @emmewitteden

www.emmewitt.com

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

Protected: A Linguistically Mysterious Voyage into the Unknown

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Erica Garza Exposes Herself

Lola and Erica Garza’s Getting Off

We are incredibly pleased to share with you all Lola’s exclusive interview with the writer and sex-positive advocate, Erica Garza!

In case you don’t know, Erica Garza is the author of a beautiful memoir, published in 2018, about her struggle with shame, sex, and self-pleasure/self-punishment: Getting Off: One Woman’s Journey Through Sex and Porn Addiction.  I had heard about it and immediately recognized a soul-sister and got the book.  I read it cover-to-cover in one night – a night punctuated by masturbatory intermissions.  HH found it hidden in the closet (how appropriate) one day and that turned into a little story he wrote about our trip to a wedding.

Other people found our blog through Erica and Erica through our blog.  Erica and I struck up a friendship and recently I interviewed her to find out some of the things that left me panting for more after putting the book down.

Erica Garza and her book, Getting Off

 

L – Your book starts off with the passage: “My favorite porn scene of all time involves two sweaty women, fifty horny men, a warehouse, a harness, a hair dryer, and a taxicab.”  You go on to say, no matter how you imagine these elements interacting, “I bet you still can’t imagine just how revolting the scene actually is.” At the end of the book, you are talking to your boyfriend, soon to be husband (spoiler alert!), and he asks you about your favorite porn.  You realize that to tell him about this “revolting” scene is dangerous.  But telling him was necessary in your journey from sexual shame, guilt, and deception to self-love, acceptance, and honesty.  You realize that your greatest fear is “being exposed.”  Not as in being naked in front of others, even strangers, but being seen, for who you really are, as a compulsive masturbator who gets off to the revolting.  I mention all this because, did you know, that when one does a Google search for “porn, two women, fifty men, warehouse, harness, hair dryer, taxicab,” you pop up as one of the top hits?  (After this interview goes live, mysexlifewithlola will probably be the top hit.)  Seems like your book was an exercise in “exposing yourself.”  How does that make you feel now?

E – You are 100% correct. My book, essays, and interviews are all exercises in exposing myself in the same way as telling my husband about my favorite porn and baring my soul to a room full of addicts at a 12 step meeting. Every time I reveal the things about myself that I used to hate and keep secret, I’m taking the power away from those feelings and transferring that power back to me. Every time I utter a secret aloud and people nod their heads in recognition, I feel less alone, more connected, and more at peace with myself. The things I’m into and the things I’ve done are not so bad, I’ve realized. And that means I’m not so bad either.

L – Your book is dedicated to, “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed.”  Isn’t that all of us at some point in our lives at least?

The author, Erica Garza

E –Totally. I’ve had a lot of different people connect with my story who come from entirely different backgrounds. I’m a 41-year-old Latina from Los Angeles who was raised in a Catholic household, but I’ve been contacted by readers ranging from 12 to 70, men and women, of all different ethnicities, religions, and income brackets. So many of them had the same story: They grew up thinking sex was bad and they hated themselves for enjoying their sexual proclivities in secret. Like me, they were desperate for self-acceptance but didn’t know how to find it. This desperation usually led to destructive and compulsive behaviors and broken relationships. Had we just been taught that there was nothing wrong with us from the start—would that have changed everything? Would we be happier people? I think yes.

L – Throughout the book you mention how you would often bring yourself to orgasm by thinking about “what a miserable slut I am.”  Can you explain a bit more how this thought got you off?

E – Shame and pleasure are intricately connected for me. When I first masturbated to orgasm in the bathtub at age 12, I distinctly remember how good it felt and yet how bad I felt once it was over. Nobody had ever talked to me about sex except to say it was something dirty and wrong and so I had this heavy feeling I had discovered something I wasn’t supposed to. And I LOVED it, which made me sick and defective. The only solution to these bad feelings was to go after the pleasure again, reinforcing this intoxicating dichotomy. Later, I would seek out porn that gave me this dose of pleasure and shame, typically scenes of degradation. To be turned on, I had to be turned off, disgusted with myself. This then transferred over to my relationships. I wanted men to make me feel used in bed, demeaned, and then discarded afterward.

L – Your book is fascinating because it’s not only a personal coming-of-age story, but it also tracks the development of on-line porn.  You talk about watching porn on VHS with your brother’s girlfriend and sneaking sex chats on-line right in front of your parents, then you chronicle the first porno sites on the internet right up to the proliferation of humiliation, extreme BDSM, and more.  It’s like you grew up with porn and the porn industry grew up with you.  Your book is also unusual as a memoir because it contains a lot of footnotes to studies and research about the effects of porn and women self-reporting about their use of porn.  What is your take on porn’s popularity now and how women in particular use it.  I guess, I’m thinking especially of OnlyFans and the many women during the pandemic who found ways of becoming entrepreneurs (or “entrepornors”).

OF Content Creator StrawberryWine @swtlikestrawber

E – I’m here for it. I find OnlyFans to be a fantastic addition to the porn world because it allows women to be in charge of their own content. Sure, we have many more female porn producers/directors, but I think it’s safe to say it’s still a male dominated industry when it comes to who’s operating the camera. I’m excited to see women taking initiative in making porn as long as they’re not merely perpetuating what they think men want. But I’m even more excited about women as viewers. I’m not sure about how many women are turning to OnlyFans for porn, but it would be fascinating data. If more women talked about what we like and what we want and what we’re willing to pay for, the less shame we’ll feel about our desires.

It’s funny you say I grew up with the porn industry and the porn industry grew up with me. It’s so accurate. And while I’m not anti-porn (unless the porn is made without someone’s consent of course), I do worry about what kids have access to when they’re just starting to explore their sexuality. When I was 12 and first started masturbating and looking at porn, I only had access to softcore scenes on Cinemax. They were so mild and still left a lot of room for my imagination. And when I advanced to watching porn online, scenes took so long to load so I couldn’t get caught up in a binge—endlessly searching for a harder, darker, sexier scene than the last. It was too much effort. Now the internet is at a place where a 12 year old could look up “two women, fifty men, a warehouse, a harness, hair dryer, and a taxicab,” or any other hardcore scene. And this is the new mild. Once they get bored with that, they can instantly search for something harder but they haven’t even discovered sex in real life yet. When they do start to explore with someone, their idea of what sex should look or feel like is likely to be distorted. They’ll probably end up performing; instead of naturally discovering what they like or what feels good, their desires will have been finely curated by whatever they had access to. I think this could be really damaging.

Porn Star Shannon Tweed

Dreaming of Shannon Tweed and Lola Down

L – You mention being enamored of such VHS stars as Shannon Tweed, and lusting for Tommy Lee’s long shlong, Pamela Anderson’s tits, and the power Gwyneth Paltrow’s character of Estella had over Finn in Great Expectations.  Does anyone come to mind today as either a quick fap fave, a girl-crush, or a role model?

Gwyneth Paltrow

E –Besides you, Lola? 😉 I don’t watch porn much these days (which is so weird to say), but when I do I like Megan Salinas who I’m not sure even performs anymore. I think her videos are a few years old. My girl crushes are always evolving though I just finished watching White Lotus so the Italian actress Simona Tabasco (Lucia) comes to mind. I’m also inspired by Paulina Porizkova who is nearly 60 and so hot and comfortable in her skin without looking plastic.

Scene from White Lotus Season II

L – You say, “In all the movies I’d ever watched, men were the ones who made the first move.  Women, it seemed, either played hard to get and were labeled dick-teasing prudes, or they quickly gave in and were called sluts and whores.”  This is the old Freudian dichotomy of Virgin/Whore.  For a long time, it seemed that either/or was the only choice society or culture presented for women.  If you were young, you were either a virgin or a whore.  If you were older, you were either matronly or a whore.  Women could never be both.  What do you think of the movement to reclaim the word “slut” from being a pejorative to a badge of honor?

Megan Salinas

Simona Tabasco

Paulina Porizkova is a dirty girl

Paulina Porizkova wins the solitary mud-wrestling prize

Paulina Porizkova – wash me!

Paulina Porizkova like a fine wine

E –We’re making some progress with more women being open about their sex lives but we still have a long way to go, especially in the U.S. This country is so ridiculously misogynistic. Just scroll through the comments section of any article written about a woman’s love life and the evidence is in plain view.

L – Along those same lines, one thing I’ve encountered, even with my man, HH, is people saying, “Wow, you have the libido of a man.”  Isn’t that also a double-standard?  I mean, men who do or did the things you did are just “guys being guys,” but a woman doing it is somehow labeled with a disorder and many of them feel guilt and shame about it.  But if you were a man, would you feel that sort of shame or guilt?

E –The only solution to this is for more women to speak up. But to speak about what you want and need sexually requires self-awareness. If you’ve been taught that sex is shameful, it’s possible you ended up in a cycle of repression. You don’t even know what you like anymore and if you do, you’re keeping that to yourself. The more honest and comfortable women are about their sexuality, the more we’ll see that men and women are more alike than we think.

L – I love when you talk about the power that Gwyneth Paltrow had over Finn.  Do you think that writing your book was a way of reclaiming your feminine sexual power?

Female Sexual Power

E – Absolutely. When I first suspected I had an addiction to sex and porn, I thought I had to put myself in a box to be “recovered.” I would never watch porn again, I’d go to 12 step meetings, I’d only be in a monogamous relationship. But that quickly started to feel inauthentic. It felt like an extension of my early childhood shame, like I was desperate to stop doing things that felt good. I realized that the driving force of my addiction all along was that shame. That’s when I started to explore how I could be a sexually open-minded, experimental person and not feel bad about it. This entailed not lying to myself and not lying to others, being open in my communication, and ultimately not thriving on destruction. Realizing I could be sexual without shame was an empowering revelation.

L – You talk about the sexy and nude photos and homemade porno movies you made with different boyfriends and the fear you have of those ever resurfacing.  Has that happened?  I mean, after the success and popularity of the book, one of your exes must have heard about it and read about you.  Did any of them come forward, either privately or publicly, with “naughty” goods?

E – Surprisingly, no! And I didn’t even use a pen name. I also expected past lovers to reach out and comment on the book, ESPECIALLY if I wrote explicitly about them! But it never happened. No videos have ever resurfaced (yet!) though I would be curious to see that younger version of myself tbh.

L – You say that your “preferences were changing all the time.  I loved ‘old and young’ clips.  I’d also taken a liking to watching drunken girls get walked around on leashes at parties or get fucked by groups of men while seemingly unconscious.  I’d discovered the category ‘bukkake’ and felt simultaneously disgusted and excited every time I watched multiple men come all over a girl’s face before urging her to lick up the drips that had fallen on the carpet beneath her.  I didn’t consider any of this normal.”  It wouldn’t exist if people didn’t watch it.  I mean, what is normal anyway?

E – Who knows. That line of thinking came from a place of deep shame and self-disgust and judgement. I felt so isolated and broken in this shame and couldn’t imagine anyone else would understand. But, like I said, if more women spoke up about what they liked and what they’re into, the less alone people like me would feel.

L – I love the passage where you combine what you learned meditating with your active imagination.  You say, “Suddenly I was the girl on the shore of that river I’d imagined in meditation.  I watched a boat come by with a skinny blond college girl spread-eagle on its main deck getting fucked by a whole fraternity.  And then another boat where a girl on a leash was held facedown by a man’s boot while another man fucked her from behind.  Each time I came, I returned to my breath.”  When you’re done, you admit to yourself that you’re “out of control.”  For people wondering, how would you characterize unhealthy from healthy masturbatory practices or porn viewing?

Role Models

E –That’s not up to me to say. Each person’s experience is different. For me, feeling incapable of stopping seemed to be a clue. Even when I felt sore or numb. Finding that I’d wasted hours trying to find the perfect clip, especially if it meant neglecting other plans or responsibilities was another. Failing to nurture real relationships or friendships in pursuit of another orgasm also seemed problematic.

L – At one point you talk about a guy you were with and how when you ran out of things to talk about or it got awkward, you reached for “what I’d always reached for to help me with the awkwardness.  I initiated sex whenever I felt things getting weird.  I was tireless with blow jobs, encouraging him to come on my face, begging him to slap me, to fuck me harder, to hurt me, to do whatever he wanted, playing the role of the perfect, pleasing porn girl.”  Do you think that your exposure to hard-core porn led you to believe that this was what men wanted, or was it a thrill and a turn-on to play this role?  I mean, so much in life is role playing, including sex and it can be fun.  And sometimes it can be difficult to disentangle where your own desire ends and trying to meet the desire of someone else begins.  Or maybe there is no clear distinction.

E –I think it’s all about balance. If your fetish is that you’re into degradation, rough sex, humiliation, role play, then why not? You do what feels good, but then at some point you leave the bedroom and life goes on. For me, that degradation leaked out of the bedroom and into real life. I didn’t just expect a guy to make me feel used and demeaned in bed as roleplay, I also expected him to ignore my calls, say abusive things, and lie to me afterward. I did not feel worthy of love and respect, so when someone tried to give those things to me I’d run away and destroy the relationship. But I desperately wanted love and respect. I felt lonely and isolated and the only company I could keep was sexual company. What was friendship? What was intimacy? What was connection? I wanted to know these things but had no idea how.

L – Was there anything that you had originally written for the book that the editor or publisher asked you to remove?

E – The footnotes were originally integrated into the text, but they were found to be distracting. They were almost cut out completely but I really wanted to keep them in. The research proved that what I was going through (and what my reader might be going through) was way more common than most people think. So many of our struggles are universal, yet we feel so alone much of the time. I hoped that the research would show readers they’re not simply “fucked up,” but that there’s likely a scientific explanation behind their feelings and actions.

L – As I mentioned, your memoir is intertwined with the historical development of internet porn.  One of the positive things I see about that development is that a lot of people, especially women, trans folk, and others have been able to connect with communities out there and realize that they’re not alone, not the “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed” to whom you dedicated the book, but that they are part of humanity in all its beautifully multifarious forms.  HH, because he’s older, frequently tells me that so much of what is normal human activity was totally in the closet when he was younger, especially female masturbation.  One thing that the internet porn might have influenced is the normalization of women pleasuring themselves.  I mean, once upon a time you never saw it, but it’s now part of so many popular shows and movies – Sex & the CitySeinfeldWeedsFleabagSMILFNew GirlThe Shape of WaterSex EducationBroad City, just to name a few.  Women are sexual beings.  We can be students, moms, daughters, sisters, wives, bosses, and also get off without going to Hell.  Do you think that girls growing up today are exposed to a healthier view of women’s sexuality than when you grew up?

SMILF with Frankie Shaw Look Carefully and you’ll see what gets Frankie Shaw off.

SMILF

Frankie Shaw asks, “Do you like my poster of Lola Down?”

Frankie Shaw in SMILF in a scene where she gets off to Lola Down

E – Yes, our entertainment has become more inclusive and I love seeing these realistic, multi-dimensional folks be represented. But let’s not forget that Roe v. Wade just got overturned, which has everything to do with female sexuality and bodily autonomy. Sexism still exists because the wage gap still exists, because doctors still gaslight women, because we still haven’t elected a female president…and so forth. These things may seem unrelated to  women masturbating, but the personal is political. It always has been. Female pleasure is powerful and people are afraid of this power. Women and lots of marginalized folks are still socialized to believe our pleasure doesn’t matter. And d this has huge implications. I’m so inspired by pleasure activism, specifically the work by author adrienne maree brown who ways capitalism creates a “false scarcity” of pleasurable experiences for the marginalized. We’re taught that “our health, our votes, our work, our safety, our families, our lives don’t matter – not as much as those of white men.” Simply put, being denied pleasure makes us easier to control. So, yes, I get excited when I see female characters on our TV set pursuing personal pleasure just as male characters always have, but I won’t be satisfied until I see those larger equalities at play in other aspects of our lives.

L – Toward the end of the book, after you met the man who would become your husband, and after you began writing publicly about your struggles and began being honest with him and yourself about your past, you begin to find some balance or at least a temporary truce with your inner demons, for lack of a better description.  If I’m not getting too personal, how much of your past plays a role in your present?  Or, another way of asking that is, do you and your husband enjoy “getting off” to some of your past sexcapades?  Does he find it sexy to hear about, or is it something that you two avoid?

Erica – Take me as I am

E – My husband does not like hearing about my sexual past. Not because he’s judgmental or embarrassed or possessive, it just doesn’t turn him on I guess. I’ve written about us going to a swingers resort where we we explored quite a bit and enjoyed ourselves, but he didn’t like watching me with other men. And I didn’t really watch him either, which is weird because I do sometimes fantasize about him sleeping with other women. I just haven’t felt the need to watch the real thing happen. Sometimes, the fantasy is hotter.

L – In 2015, in an article you wrote for narratively.com, you said, “Masturbating beside my husband while he sleeps is the last secret I’ve kept from him.  Although I’m beginning to fear that it’s actually just the latest secret.  My resistance in telling him only proves how fragile recovery is.  This week it’s masturbation.  But maybe next week it’s back to porn binging.  Or obsessive scrolling through Craigslist personals.  Or lying about my whereabouts.  And so forth.  Abstaining from these habits, when so readily available, without abstaining from sexual pleasure completely, or the shame I’ve long bound to it, is a challenge I face daily.”  Looking back on that now, how have you fared over the past seven years?

E – It has been a rollercoaster of up and downs. Of me (and us) figuring out what we like and what we don’t, what’s right for us and what’s off limits, what feels safe and what feels dangerous or destructive. But I like the process. Humans evolve and so do our sex lives and I’m grateful to be with someone I could be 100% honest with.

L – What is your sexual life like now – I mean, with yourself and with your partner or partners?  In the book you seem open to threesomes and other non-monogamous situations.  Have you found a way that works for you individually and you as a couple?

E – We’re open minded but not in an open relationship. So while we do experiment with others, we only do so as a couple. Honesty is sacred to us. We always have conversations before we do anything with anyone else and then we have conversations after that about what we will or won’t do next time.

L – In some articles you wrote after the book came out, you talk about going to nudist resorts with your husband and having “soft-swaps.”  You also mention “relapsing” after marriage and sneaking off to masturbate to porn – at least until you came home one day and caught him doing the same thing.  Then you lifted the prohibition you had on porn in your relationship and found out something surprising – you two could integrate it into your lives together.  Can you talk about that balance?  I mean, unlike drug and alcohol addiction, you can’t really ever cut sex, sexuality, or sexual fantasy out of your life 100%.  No one is a tee-total reformed sex addict, because we, as human beings, are sexual beings.  How have you and your husband been able to navigate that?

E— Unless you’re joining a convent, you’re going to have to find a way to integrate sex (and maybe porn) back into your life in a healthy way. For me, I know the difference between when I’m watching porn to escape a difficult feeling or watching because I simply want to, because it feels good. It’s a fine line and takes a lot of self awareness but it’s possible.

L – In an article you once wrote about the difficulty of being a porn-addicted feminist.  You said, “You want to stop because the hypocrisy is so intense it makes you nauseous.  You call yourself a feminist, an activist, a conscious citizen, but then you watch women get walked around on leashes and your panties get soaked through. . . [and] you’ll scan over all the gangbangs and golden showers, convinced (or at least hopeful) that your sickness isn’t a sickness, but a natural fascination.”  That was in 2016, three years after Belle Knox, a.k.a. Miriam Weeks, was outed as the Duke University porn star and she defended her decisions as her form of feminism.  Since then many women have made names and careers for themselves in porn – both in front of the camera and behind it – and have promoted ethical porn and feminist porn.  What’s your take on the possibility that porn and feminism are not mutually exclusive?

E – Bodily autonomy and consent is everything. If a woman wants to be a sex worker, she should be allowed to do that. It’s her body. If a woman is coerced into sex work and she feels she has no other choice, that is an entirely different thing.

L – Something I love about the book is your frequent literary references.  In addition to porn, you clearly have an affinity for literature.  Some favorite authors, books, or movies you go back to frequently?

E – I don’t often reread books, but when I do, it’s usually A Moveable Feast because I find Paris and Hemingway both sexy as hell. Otherwise I feast myself on memoirs, biographies, journals, anything confessional and real. Right now I’m reading (and adoring) I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jeanette McCurdy, who also had some familiar conflicted feelings about sex and love and her body.

L – A little self-indulgent inquiry now.  You reached out to me recently and hinted that you’ve been reading the blog.  Are we – HH and me – a part of your sexual fantasy life or your erotic life with your husband?  Be honest.

E – For now, your blog is a solitary pleasure. I’m not ready to share you yet 😉

“Don’t be. Erica Garza says you’re just a woman with a healthy libido.”

Pachu M. Torres – Art & Literature Collaboration

We are so excited to announce our new collaboration with the renowned artist and illustrator, Mr. Pachu M. Torres!

For years we have been following his work and, though Lola hasn’t been the actual model for him (but perhaps she has been the inspiration for some of his works), his art reflects something of Lo’s inner essence.

You can expect quick little vignettes of word and image like the one below. We’d love to hear your thoughts.

xoxoxoxo,

Lola & HH

Image – Pachu M. Torres
Words – HH

Look Who’s Reading Match, Cinder & Spark!

We’ve had such a good experience with our book promo giveaway during COVID lockdown and for Valentine’s Day month, that we want to help you kinky couples (or thruples or whatever) get a jump (and hump) on your holiday shopping for that special person (or persons). All you have to do is let us know that you’re interested, send us a sexy photo, and let us know you’ll take some more sexy photos of you and your lover(s) with the book.

Here are some of the sexy readers we’ve featured already.

Lilith Avir of No True Way

The Lovely Brianna Gale

Sam K. and Alia Sue

Caila

Lo helps Caylee find her kink

Caylee on the Beach

Caylee on the beach after reading Match, Cinder & Spark

 

Feisty Married Couple

Feisty Married Couple

Floss

Mrs. Addy Sins

Addy Sins

Penny XOX

Mr. Retrohotcouple

Mr. & Mrs. Retrohotcouple

Mrs. Retrohotcouple

Samantha Massie

Sara Anne

Mrs. Tastykakes

Thumper-n-Daisy

Love is a Fetish

Sharing Couple NJ

Sharing Couple NJ

Mysterious Wit

Madelaine H.

Get your copy today!

Five Volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark

Even my sister got a copy of the e-book:

My sister, Robie

And don’t forget, there’s also the Audiobook:

All five volumes are on audiobook through Audible.com

 

Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper

[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]

In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.

And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.

It was Sunday and it was hot!  Hot and humid.  There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets.  Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before.  Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting.  I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.

All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.

Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.

Hot Lola on a hot night

I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.

Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.

“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”

“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.

“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”

“I need something to get me up.”

“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.

Would this get you up in the morning?

“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”

“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”

Suddenly we heard a knock.

“What was that?” I asked.

Lo shrugged her shoulders.

Another knock.

“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door.  Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.

I opened the door a crack.  A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.

“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom.  I live across the way, over yonder.”  He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.

“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard.  I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great!  We’ll be over in about an hour.”

“Sure thing ma’am.  Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”

I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.

“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”

“Yes.  Why not, Daddy?”

“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”

She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.

“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”

After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house.  There was a gate around the backyard.

“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.

“It’s the law,” I said.  “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”

“Ah, I get it.”

We walked into the enclosed backyard.  By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.

There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini.  Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?

“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.

“Hi,” they almost grunted back.

“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked.  “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”

One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.

“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked.  They were in shorts and t-shirts.

“What?”

“Get naked,” she said plainly.

They did as she said.  They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.

Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.

She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.

“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.

The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders.  His cock was very close to Lo’s face.

During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool.  No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”

When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.

“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”

“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.

“Jerk off!  Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”

Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her.  That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.

She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.

She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.

She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string.  Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.

She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.

Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.

First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin.  She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.

When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water.  The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.

“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”

They all dove in right quick.  They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.

“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool.  “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.

“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.

“Suit yourself.”

“More than I can say your suiters have on!”

“Huh?  Oh.  Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.

After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink.  They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo.  Ain’t that a twist?

Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”

“Clothes?  Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice.  Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.

“You sure are.”

“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”

“You got that right,” said one of the guys.  When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.

One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.

“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie.  I’m good at goaltending.”

“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper.  And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”

“No balls!  Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”

“Call what – baseball bats?”

“Yeah!”

“Again, wrong sport.”

“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”

Touché!” I called.

The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola.  They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.

Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands.  It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands.  She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.

We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back.  The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”

“Hey!” she called.

“What?  You’re down.”

“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop?  Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.

Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.

“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a penalty.”

“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.

Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.

“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.

“Gatekeeper?  I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”

“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet.  I’ve been gatekeeping.”

“You want praise for that?  It’s COVID times.  You know that.”

“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”

“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.

But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.

We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs.  It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.

Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it.  I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books.  So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it?  But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down.  Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!

Anti-Lola

Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography.  One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff.  I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”

Pro-Lo

To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola.  They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.

It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle.  The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.

The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up!  In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect.  The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.

Lola on the News

“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window.  “Oh shit!” she said.

“What?” asked one of the guys.

“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”

There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.

“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”

The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”

We filled him in.  He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob.  I was quite worried.  All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.

“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.

Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club.  It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.

He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.

“Sure,” she said.

“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day.  I was just doing my job.”

“I understand.”

Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.

Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.

“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”

“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”

“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”

“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo.  “Would you like to see?”  She asked, looking over at the empty stage.

“My own personal show?”

“Yeah.  Can you put on some music?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Got any Rihanna?”

“Anything you want.”

“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”

Hagrid put it on.  As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me?  What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.

“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.

“Thanks,” said Lo.  “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”

“What happened?”

“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.  We’d treat you right.”

“Oh yeah?  How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.

Hagrid was unfazed.  He works in a strip club.

 

It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good

And I can’t get enough

Must be love on the brain.

 

The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat.  Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.

“We treat the girls right.  I can assure you of that.”

Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass.  Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”

“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo.  “My younger sister strips here.”

“What?!  No way?”

“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.

“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.

“Why should she?” he asked, naively.

“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”

“Whatever,” he said.  “I see her naked and more at home.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”

“Really?”

“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”

“You both live with your parents?”

“No, we have an apartment together.”

“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”

“Yeah.  Cheaper that way.”

“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”

“All the time.  And women.”

“In her room?”

“In her room, with the door open.  In the living room.  In the kitchen.  It doesn’t really matter to her.”

“I’ve got to meet this woman!”

“You already have.”

“What?!”

“Yeah.  The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”

“She’s your sister?!”

“Yep.”

Hagrid looked at his phone.

“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.

“How’s that?”

“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”

“What?!  We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man.  Double standard?  You better believe it.

Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.

Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.

“You!” said the little sister.

“You!” said Lo right back at her.  It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?  But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp.  Who is who?  Does it matter?

Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.

Luna Lovegood/Evanna Lynch

The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me.  He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.

“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.

“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt.  “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”

Evanna Lynch

“Whatever,” said Hagrid.

Evanna Lynch

The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment.  It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room.  The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly.  The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch.  The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it.  There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.

On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.

“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.

“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna.  “He’s a grown man.”

“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.

I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.

“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”

“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.

“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.

“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.

“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here.  They know her.  They know all about her.  To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”

“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig.  Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.

“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class.  You’re from the city.  You’re not from around here.”

“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom.  “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”

“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”

“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”

“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.

I played dumb.  Lo spread her legs.  Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.

She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”

“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.

“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”

“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.

“You can have it,” continued Luna.  “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.

“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.

“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.

Luna put out her hand.  “A hundred.”

“What?!”

“It will cost you.  One Benjamin.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”

“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.

“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”

“I don’t have a hundred.”

“What do you have?”

He pulled out his wallet.  He opened it.  He looked in.  “A twenty.”

Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened.  “It’s a deal.”

Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.

Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen.  The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.

“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.

“Sure,” I said.

“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.

Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”

“Perfect,” said Lo.

As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations.  The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.

“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.

“Pretty much every night she dances.”

“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”

Hagrid laughed a little.  “You saw how little she weighs.  She barely pulls that weight.  All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka.  “And drugs.”

“That’s too bad.”

Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early.  It’s out of his control.

“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.

“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple.  Lo here, she’s. . .”

“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.

“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.

“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”

“Fuck!  Fuck!  Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.

“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake.  The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.

“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked.  Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat.  “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.”  It was hot in that shack.  No AC.

“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.

Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.  She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.

Luna downed it in one gulp.  “More,” she said.  Was she talking to Lo or Tom?

Lo filled up the glass again.

“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.

She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.

“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo.  Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.

“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.

“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.

Luna just gave him her middle finger.

“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder.  It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.

“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her.  “It’s still in you.”

“Forget the condom.  Fuck my ass.”

“I don’t have another one.”

“FUCK. MY. ASS.”

The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.

“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.

“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”

“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”

“ATV or. . . ?”

“We’ll take my pickup truck.”

“Wait!” said Luna.  “I want to go with you.”

The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.

“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.

“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.

“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.

“Because, I want to go.”

“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”

Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.

Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.

“Works every time,” said Luna.

“What does?” asked Lo.

“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”

Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth.  I couldn’t help but think, “Wow!  What a Lola move!”

When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.

Why were all of us in the back seat?  Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.

Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap.  Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.

“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.

“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.

“Fuck you!” said Luna.

Luna spread her legs.  Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass.  Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them.  She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself.  But then she pulled out her hand.

“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom.  She tossed it out the window with a laugh.

We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.

“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.

“No problem.  Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.

“Will do!”

“Thanks!  Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.

“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits.  “Stay slutty!”

“You know I will!”

Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.

The End

Lola Down – Cover Girl

 

Smalltown Strumpet – Flaming Lips

Smalltown Strumpet – Part III: Flaming Lips

Continued From: The Doctor Will See You Now

The Flaming Lips

Lo was out of commission.  There would be no sexy suntanning in the front yard, no strip club short-short shenanigans, no teasing the townies down Main Street.  She spent much of her time submerged in the clawfoot tub or strutting bottomless around the house, airing out her nettle-enflamed pussy.  She had to sit on pillows and masturbating was now out of the question.  This put her in a very unpleasant mood.

Though I wished to attend to her, I needed to get out of the house, lest I bear the brunt of her frustration with her cunt.

I had been working on an article about bestiality portrayed in art and literature through the centuries and thought I’d mosey down to the local library to continue my studies.

Lo had taken a couple of Tylenol PM and was resting comfortably when I slipped out with my computer and backpack.  I figured I had a couple of hours to myself.

The library was a very small brick building.  There were two rooms and a small anteroom at the entrance that contained the check-out desk, a couple of computers, and a display table for new books.

I set up in a small corner of the library, sitting in a large, square, worn brown leather club chair that looked like it was at least as old as I am.  It was remarkably comfortable and the arms were flat, so they were perfect for resting my books and computer around me conveniently.

I began by looking at a blog from Remittance Girl on “Defending the Indefensible: Bestiality in Erotica.”  It was a great place to start my research.  She had written the article in response to censorship of erotica authors by PayPal – an infringement of speech that this very author had suffered by that very company!  They should call it PrudePal.

In her article she referenced one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, and his defense of Chris Handley, among others who have been prosecuted for the material they read, write, draw, collect, sell, or possess.

This led me down a rabbit hole into a morass of law, liberty, and lurid content.  Thank goodness my chair had its back against the wall because if any local busybody were to see the ‘scholarly studies’ I was researching, there’s no telling what would happen.

Actually, there is a telling what would happen and if you have a moment, I will inform you as to the tempest in a teapot that an oversight by me stirred up in that little hamlet.

I was deep into my investigation of Greek portrayals of bestiality and had about ten different books from the library surrounding my chair when I received a text from Lola.  “Where are you, Daddy?”

I guess I won’t be able to start my deep dive into Hokusai and the Japanese tradition of erotic images.  I packed up my stuff hastily, leaving behind the library books in their sprawling spread of towers on the armchair.

Perhaps another time I will get back to you with my developed thoughts on the matter.

I drove back to the house where we were staying, to find Lo fully naked and fully submerged in the tub.  She looked up at me and said, “I’m wet, and not just because I’m taking a bath.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she said.  “But you left me, Daddy!”  She pouted.

“I’m sorry Lo, but. . .”

“Shut up and get naked.”

“I’m not going for a swim.  There’s only room for one in there.”

“Who said anything about that?” she asked as she put her mouth on the edge of the tub and opened wide.  She looked up at me.  “Insert your cock.  I’ll be your cumdump.”

I did as instructed.  She sucked.  I fucked (her face).  Water splashed around.  She contorted in the tub, eventually getting to a position where her legs were going straight up the wall in a “V” formation, her head was tilted back over the opposite side of the tub, and she was squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples as I fucked her face.  With every thrust into her mouth and down her throat, my heavy ball sack was slapping up against her upside-down face, smacking her squarely in the eyes and on the bridge of her nose.  She liked it.

Lo, cooling down her flaming lips

Somehow the plug came undone and the water drained out of the tub.  Lo moved her hands from her tits to her pussy.  She began smacking it hard and then even harder.  She slapped her pussy like a mother spanking a very naughty child, with force and anger, until she finally squirted all over the wall of the bathroom.  The naughty child crying from the pain, perhaps.  Seeing that, I couldn’t control myself any longer and I came directly into Lo’s esophagus.  She gagged and nearly puked in the tub from the odd position of the climax.

I was dreading another trip to the hospital!

She jumped out of the tub, coughing and sputtering like she had been tossed at sea.  Cum was oozing out of her nostrils and she was struggling to catch her breath.  When she finally did, she said something I didn’t quite catch.

“What?” I asked.

“That was awesome,” she repeated.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“This stinging sensation in my pussy lips really makes for an incredible orgasm.”

“You should sit in poison nettles more often.”

“I think I might be able to have sex now, Daddy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but my pussy is still burning.  Do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Grab a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and meet me in the bedroom.”

I did as she asked, wondering how I was going to get hard again in order to give her what she wanted.

I met her in the bedroom and she was lying on her back.

“Take an ice cube and trace it around my labia,” she said.

I gently applied the cold, slippery, dripping ice to her pussy lips.  She loved it.

“Slip it in.”

I inserted it.

“Another,” she said.

I did the same thing a second time.

“Again,” she said.

And a third time.

This continued until there were more ice cubes in her pussy than in a tall glass of lemonade.

“Now fuck me.”

At this point, the eroticism of what I had been doing had me rigid.  Timidly I inserted the tip of my penis just a bit into her ice-packed pussy.

It felt cold.  Freezing, to be exact.  But not unpleasant.

“Fuck me!”

She likes to go from zero to balls-deep in under a minute.

I slide my rod all the way into her snow cone.  There was a curious mixing of hot and cold and wet, since all the ice cubes were melting pretty rapidly inside her.

We had hardly started to stir her dirty Shirley when she said, “Go get more ice.”

I pulled out, feeling a chill on my thermometer, and got another tray of ice.

I inserted my manhood to her ice bucket and as I fucked her, the friction creating heat and melting her internal coolant, she reached over and took fresh ice cubes and, one-by-one, slipped them into her slit over the shaft of my cock.  The tightness, the alternating hot and cold, the slip-sliding of the cubes inside her pussy, was unlike anything I had ever felt.

“Should I put a few in my ass?” she whispered.

I couldn’t answer and before I knew it, she was spreading her ass cheeks with one hand and putting the cubes in with the other.

“Do you want my ass, Daddy?”

I did.  I did, so bad.

I pulled out and slid my hot and cold compress into her smaller icebox and within mere seconds I melted her heart with the heat of my love.

I pulled out and all the white, watery liquid spilled out of both holes as she stood up to go to the bathroom.  It quickly dribbled down her inner thighs to her feet and puddled on the hardwood floor, leaving a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom.  I suddenly heard a loud rattle.  Her remaining ice cubes slipped out and crackled on the tile floor.

“Whoops!” I heard her call.

When she returned, she got on her knees beside the bed and looked up at me.

“Did you like that Daddy?”

“Very much, Lo,” I said.

She licked my balls and continued up my cock and then took the tip of my flaccid shaft into her mouth.  “Can I be your cock-warmer, Daddy?” she asked before taking the entire length of it in her mouth and resting her head gently on my inner thigh.

[To be continued. . .]

Lo’s cockwarmer

Labor Day – Two Women who Work

Mrs. Sins

Today is Labor Day and in honor of those who work, we want to introduce you to two friends (of ours and each other) who work hard for their money. We also want to ask you to support them through a very special gift.

Samantha (Sammi) Masog and Mrs. Sins.

I’ll let Sammi tell you about herself and her business:

My name is Sammi.  I am from a small town in central Minnesota.  I am currently expecting my first child.  My husband and I are very excited and nervous!  We have two beautiful little kittys named Heinrich and Leonardo.  I have always loved photography.  I am the person that notices the small things most would overlook.

While looking to make a living from the thing I love doing I stumbled across boudoir.  It was super intriguing to me.   It was a way for women to feel like the sexual creatures that they are, but also gave them a chance to see their beauty in a different light.  We sometimes get stuck in being a role for other people and forget to see who we really are.  So I started taking on clients.  It was incredible to see these people light up with the way they saw themselves through my eyes.  I ended up with a whole new appreciation for the human form.   In every body is something truly spectacular.  If you look for the beauty, it’s easy to see.  Society has made this a much more difficult task, especially towards ourselves.   Because of this and knowing exactly how it feels to be told you’re not pretty enough and that no one wants you, I want to make sure women everywhere know that is untrue.   That led me to become a life coach.  I wanted to help people in a more specific way.   So I honed in on empowering women.  Thus my Empowerment Coaching was born.

I coach women to unlearn the negative things about themselves and to learn how to embrace the beauty they already behold.  Through monthly or biweekly session I help break down those barriers that keep us thinking “I wish I looked like (blank).”   We work on affirmations to ensure that you are your most confident and true self.  There is so much more to this world than just looking beautiful all the time.  We need to cherish every part of ourselves.  And I want to help people do that.  When I combine coaching with my photography I can help women truly accept who they are and not who they think they should be.

Samantha Masog, Self Portrait

Samantha has used her talents and art to inspire so many women to be confident and proud of themselves. And, as she describes it, it is a labor of love. She also will be going into labor soon.

Speaking of going into labor, Mrs. Sins – already confident and proud of her beauty – took a set of photos when she was pregnant that we think you might enjoy!

Mrs. Sins expecting

Mrs. Sins Pregnant

 

Though she sometimes takes selfies, usually Mrs. Sins is photographed by her loving husband, Mr. Sins. Though he tends to be a little more camera shy than the Mrs.

 

 

 

Mr. & Mrs. Sins

Unlike a lot of the people we profile here, Mr. & Mrs. Sins don’t run an OF page or anything else to make money off of their artful photography. They do it for the sheer love of it.

Did I say “sheer”?

They recently requested a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts and said that they loved it!

Mrs. Addy Sins reads Match, Cinder & Spark

Cover as Cover Up

 

Sometimes Mommy Needs some Alone Time

In order to show our appreciation and to help out two amazing women, we ask you to contact Sammi and make a donation to help pay for Addy to do a boudoir session with her and get some professional sexy photographs made of her for Mr. Sins, you, and all of us!

You can contact her here:

Instagram: rose.lens.empower
Facebook: Facebook.com/roselensempower

Mr. & Mrs. Sins

 

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