Protected: Res Ipsa Loquitur, or The Pencil Test

This content is password protected. To view it please enter your password below:

Problem Solving

Lola on the phone, tits out

“Lola, it’s worse than it was before,” said MILF Meri.

“What do you mean, worse?”

“Just that.”

Meri had called late at night.  Lo was in bed next to me.  I could hear everything Meri said since it was so quiet at home and she was so demonstrably loud.

“Worse in what way?”

“Well, it used to be just a hand-job before bed.  A soothing caress to help him fall asleep.”

“Yeah.”

“And now, it’s like every night, he’s sneaking around, waiting for Scott to fall asleep and begging me to go into the first-floor bedroom and let him fuck me.”  That bedroom is Meri’s ‘masturbation room’ where Lo fucked Meri’s husband and three sons the week prior.

“Do you?”

“He’s very persuasive, very persistent.  And, well, you know, he only lasts five minutes at the most.  So, it’s just faster and easier to give in than to resist.”

“Meri, there’s your husband and your other two sons to think about.  None of them know, do they?”

“No.  Not at all.  It’s the first time I’ve ever had to keep something about sex a secret.”

“What about your solo sessions in that room?”

“I usually would shut the door, but it was no secret what I was up to.”

“Usually?”

“I mean, I’d shut the door, but you know what it’s like in my house.  One of the kids always needs something and they would open it without knocking or whatever.”

She was more upset about being interrupted than the invasion of privacy.

“But this is different,” she continued.  “And he wants to do it in there because that’s where he had you.  He opens up your books and looks at your photos while fucking me.”

“I have to go,” said Lo abruptly.  She hung up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t want to be any part of that,” she said.

“Why do you think she called you?”

“It certainly wasn’t to figure out a solution to her problem.  And even if it was, that’s her problem, not mine.  Let her figure out how to solve it.”

She shut off the lights and silenced her phone.

“Night,” I said.

“Night,” she replied in the dark.

I didn’t fall asleep.  I could tell she wasn’t falling asleep either.  I looked at the clock.  It was ten past ten.

I looked again.  It was ten thirty.

I wasn’t sleeping.  I could tell she wasn’t either.  I didn’t move.  I hardly breathed.  I waited.

Fifteen more minutes passed.

I felt her move.  She spread her legs.  She reached under the blankets.  Rhythmic motions.  Sloshing sounds.  Muted moan.  Faster strokes.  Sudden stop.  “Fuck,” whispered in the dark.  Convulsion.  Release.

She reached for her breasts and caressed and squeezed them.

I was hard under the sheets.

“Jack me off,” I whispered.

She was startled.  She thought I was asleep.

“What?”

“Jack me off.”

“It’s time to sleep,” she said, playing coy.

“Grab my cock and stroke it.  Make me cum.  Just like Meri and her son.”

She obeyed.

“Like this?” she asked as she held me firmly.

“Use some lube,” I instructed.

She reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out the tube.  She keeps it there, reserved only for me since she has her own, natural lubricant.

She squeezed a dollop into her palm and reached under the blankets again, sliding her hand around my cock.  That first, cold, wet, firm squeeze is the best part of her handjobs.

“You can’t get them out of your head, can you?” I asked.

“No, Daddy.”

“You’re a bad, dirty, depraved, morally degenerate girl.”

“Yes, Daddy.  Can I suck your cock?”

“No.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“No.”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

“No.”

“Do you want to use me?”

“Only your hand.”

“Why?”

“Because, that’s what I want right now.”

“Do you want to fuck Stoya?”

“Yes.”

“OK.”

Stoya and her anal Fleshlight

She got up and pulled out the Fleshlight.  She lubricated it and my cock properly.  I was in a mood to deny her.  I don’t know why.  She slid the pornstar’s pussy on my rod.  She lifted it and lowered it like a single-cylinder engine.

Stoya and her pussies

She could tell by my breathing I was getting close.  She took Stoya off of me and replaced her with her mouth in order to coax all my cum out of me and swallow it.  I can only imagine that the initial taste was unpleasant due to the lube.  Didn’t matter to her.  She wanted my ejaculate.  She wanted to bring me to a climax with her mouth, not Stoya’s pussy.  I gave her what she wanted and she swallowed every warm drop.

“Better Daddy?” she asked.

“Yes.  You’re a good girl.  Now it’s time for sleep.”

Stoya and Lola side-by-side

“This Might Get Messy”

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

Meri

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

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

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

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

She stepped in hastily, almost landing on my toes.

“Hi,” she said, reluctantly.

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

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

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

“Something to eat?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She seemed both appreciative and perturbed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lo readily enlisted him to assist her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could hardly speak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He led her to the master bedroom.

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

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

“Meri asked them to do some errands.”

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

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

“When did they leave?”

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

“Just curious,” said Lo.

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

 

Brothers, Lo, Meri

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

“I am fucking you,” Scott said.

Lo couldn’t feel it.

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

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

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

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes.  Fuck me.  I need it.”

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

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

Scott only managed to make a few grunting noises.

“Slap it.”

Scott slapped her right ass cheek.

“Harder.”

He complied.

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

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

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

“Holy shit!” he said.  “Lola.”

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

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

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

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

The other two gave her a suspicious look.

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

“We know,” said one of them.

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

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

“No.”

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

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

“Where’s dad?” asked another one.

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

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

“You and dad?” asked the youngest.

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

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

“Ew!” said one of the other boys.

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

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

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

One at a Time

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

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

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

He looked like the wolf about to devour Little Red.

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

Lo rolled over.

“Spread your legs, wide.”

She did.

“Spread your pussy lips.”

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

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

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

Learn from Lola

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

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

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

Two for One

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Queef

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

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

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

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

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

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

Window Crack

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are my boys here?” asked the mom.

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

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

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

“Right.”

I returned, no mask.

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

“What?  And where’s your mask?”

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

I disappeared down the hall again.

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

“No shit!  Make her unsuspicious.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” she asked, suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

“Power saw?!”

“Yes,” she said searching for a story.

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

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

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

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

Just then the brothers appeared in the doorway.

“Hi Mom,” said one of them genially.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” said the other brother.

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

“And using the power saw,” added Lo.

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

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

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

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

Lo and Meri

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

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

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

I said, “I do.”

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

“Really?” I asked in disbelief.

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

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

“Her pussy feel good?” she asked.

“So good.”

“Kiss me,” she said.

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

“Tell me all,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Polyglot

Markus Apegren painting

 

“That’s one thick slick dick!” she said.

“Lo, I’m in my pajamas and I’m not even hard,” I replied.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, not picking up on my sarcasm.  “Look,” she said, holding her phone to my face so I could see the surprisingly serpentine appendage which had provoked her initial comment.

“An admirer?” I half stated, half asked.

“This whole COVID quarantine thing has been crappy, but it has also produced some unexpected yet pleasant surprises.  I’ve never felt so connected to my fanbase as I do now.”

a hung fan

“Not connected enough, it seems,” I added, under my breath.

“Well, it’s true that I’ve been getting off to them, but the relationship is reciprocal.  I’ve heard from guys, wives, husbands, single girls, older folks who live alone, even one coed who had to move back from college to live with her parents and was so horny that hearing her parents going at it in their bedroom turned her on.”

“Luckily she had you to turn to,” I said.

I don’t think she heard me.  She was indulging her natural need for self-copulation under the sheets.

“And don’t forget your sister,” I added.

She came.

“Is that the whole shebang?” I asked, wondering if she had any desire left for me.  You know, her ole man lying there next to her, in the flesh, ready, willing and able to gratify her every lustful whim.

“That’s the hole shebangs,” she quipped, slapping her puss.  I could hear how very wet she was.

“The hole who bangs?”

“Anyone and everyone.”

“How about this one?!” I asked, thumb pointing to my chest.

“You want me, Daddy?”

“How did you guess?”

“Then have me,” she said, holding her phone in one hand, spreading her legs as she lay missionary position on the bed, allowing me to enter her.

“Are you seriously texting while I fuck you?” I asked when she raised her other hand to the phone and was going at it with her thumbs.

“Does it bother you?”

“I’d like maybe ten percent of your attention.”

“You have one hundred percent of my pussy.  Go to town.”

I didn’t stop going to Lola Down town, but I was frustrated.

“Who the hell are you writing to?”

“I have a following to satisfy, you know.”

“When you look behind you to see your following, I’m the first in line!”

She didn’t respond.  She was engrossed in her text exchange.

“Are you at least sexting? – telling someone about how amazing I am in bed?”

“Yeah,” she said, unconvincingly.

“Tell the truth, Lo.”

“Well, I was actually telling a couple how sexy they are when they mutually get off to my pics.”

In my head I heard the lyrics, “Cause if you like the way you look that much, oh, baby, you should go love yourself.”  But loving herself (or fucking herself) was exactly what she had been doing next to me for the past hour or so.  I wanted her to respond to me.

“How about you tell me something?” I requested, not politely.

Again, she didn’t hear me.  She was texting.

I pulled out.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as if I had just splashed ice water on her.

“I’m stopping.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re not into it.”

“I was into it.  I was into you being in me.”

“I’m a whole person, not just a penis.”

“And I’m a hole for your penis.  Put it in me.”

“Put down the phone.”

I was on my knees, looking down at her as her legs were spread with her knees on each side of me.  She could see my cock dripping with her juices.

“Please, Daddy,” she whined.  “Please fuck me.”

“Not until you put down the phone.”

“But it enhances the experience for me.  Come on,” she said, reaching down between my legs and fondling my testicles, feeling how soaked they were.  “You know you want it.  I can feel how full you are.  Just use me.  Fill me up.  Fuck me.  Get your rocks off.  Cum inside me.”

I couldn’t resist her voice, though I knew I should.  I entered her again.

“That’s it, Daddy.  Use your little girl.  Drill that dirty whore.”  She was saying the words as if reading a script.  Her eyes were glued to her phone screen.  She was typing again with her thumbs.  “Yeah, Daddy.  That’s it.  Feels good, right?”

Speaking words to me, typing different words to some virtual lover.  She was a polyglot.

I finally let myself go.  I didn’t care anymore.  I released my full load deep inside her.  She held me for one second with one hand, pressing it to my back, and then was back at it – typing away.

I pulled out with a sploosh and she rolled onto her tum, her legs dangling in the air, her feet touching at the toes, her pussy dribbling my ejaculate out slowly.

She pulled her right hand away from the phone just long enough to rub it between her legs and then lick some of the cum off her fingers.

“I love you, Lo,” I said as I rolled over to go to sleep.

“You too, Daddio.”

Lola pumps

Penny’s from Heaven

 

Penny & Lola

“Penny for your thoughts,” I said to Lo.

“Actually, Penny is all for your thoughts.”

“What?”

Penny xox – an OnlyFans content creator.  She’s loving Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts.”

“How do you know?”

“Take a look for yourself.”

Lo showed me some of Penny’s sexy “May is Masturbation Month” promotional photos.

“Wow!” I said, “Photogenic.”

“You don’t mind if I have a little Masturbation Month time before May, do you Daddy?” asked Lo as she reached under her jeans and began sliding her fingers up and down her crotch.

Penny xox

“I’ll leave you and Penny to enjoy each other.”

“Good, because I already got my subscription to her page.”

“Of course you did,” I said.

“We sex goddesses have to support each other.”

“Indeed,” I said as I went to leave the bedroom and close the door behind me.

“You can leave it open,” she said, just to rub it in, so to speak.  She likes for me to hear the pleasure she gives herself when getting off to other people.

Ten minutes later, she sauntered into the living room, pantless, wearing just her t-shirt.

“Feeling better?”

“I’m ready for you now, Daddio.”

She bent over by the window, looking outside as the Sunday strollers sauntered by on the sunlit sidewalk.

Her hands were resting on the windowsill and she looked over her shoulder at me.  “Well?  Are you going to fuck me?”

“Do you want me or do you just want to be fucked?”

“Is there a difference?”

“That’s cruel.”

“I mean, I want to be fucked by you.”

“Me specifically, or would anyone do?”

“Are we playing Twenty Questions, or are you going to penetrate my wet pussy?”

“For you, fucking is a physical act.  For me, I take pleasure in the cerebral interplay of personalities.”

“Well, you’re not going to get any play – cerebral or corporeal – if you keep talking.”

“And you’re going to get nothing but corporal punishment,” I said, as I took out my belt.

“I don’t know why you’re punishing me, but I like it,” she said, preparing for her lashing.

SMACK! – I gave her one strike across her bum.  She didn’t cry out.

SMACK!! – I gave her another.  She made a little peep in the back of her throat with her mouth closed.  Her head bobbed up a bit as she vocalized the yipe.

SMACK!!! – I gave her a third, much harder than the first two.

“YEOW!” she cried out through the screen of the window.  People on the street certainly heard her.  Admirably, her hands remained on the sill.

I stood behind her.  I entered her red bum.  She let out a gasp of delight.

“Penny will be pleased,” she said.

Penny and Match, Cinder & Spark

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“She’s married, has two teenage sons, and her greatest thrill is turning people on.”

“Just to be clear,” I said, “you turn me on.”

“Oh, I know that.  But she turned me on.  You’re just reaping the rewards.”

“Looks like we both are reaping a pretty good return on just one penny,” I said as she began to squirt, her legs buckling as she bit down on her lower lip.

She had to jump off my cock and she squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could, futilely trying to stem the stream of satisfaction.  Within moments she screamed as her ejaculate puddled around her bare feet on the hardwood floor.

“Looks like it’s raining,” I said.

“Penny’s from heaven,” she concluded.

Check out Penny’s OnlyFans page

Looks like Penny could use a spanking too

Swing

[The following story, which took place a few years ago, was published in the March edition of ENM Magazine – Ethical Non-Monogamy.  Unfortunately, despite heroic efforts by its publisher, this month is the last month of its short existence.]

Lo’s Green Dress from ENM spread

Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago, where the river runs green and the jazz of a bygone era still swings.  Lo and I had gone there for Lily and Jim’s wedding.  It was an extravagant affair.  All the quaint rituals and odd practices of the public betrothal symbolizing holy monotony.  I mean monogamy.  I mean matrimony.  Sorry, I struggle to find the right words sometimes.  All the focus on the bride as an unblemished princess performing for her solid, stoic king.  There’s just something about it that provokes the puckish prankster in me.  Especially when I know that the beautiful bride in her pure white gown has a devilish desire for exceptionally large cock and that her groom comes up short. 

But Jim is a good friend of mine and a sometime paramour of Lo’s, so we took added delight in the carnal knowledge that behind all the nuptial vows, the oaths of fidelity, and the pomp of the ring ceremony, both Lily and Jim hadn’t any plans of restricting their bodies and pleasures only to the one legally bound to them.

So, as all the other guests let out gentle expressions of awe and shed a tear in reflection of this display of love and affection, I grinned a wicked little grin as I sipped my expensive scotch.

Lo saw my mischievous look and rubbed her leg up against mine under the table, indicating that she had some ideas of her own.

We both knew Lily and Jim to be swingers and so, when the formalities were over and the dancefloor opened up for revelry, Lo missed no opportunity to scandalize the evening.

We sat at the table next to the newlywed couple.  Rather than the usual choice of two entrées, there was a choice of four and so people were passing bites from their plates around for each other to taste.

“You are so generous!” said one guest to me after I let her have a bite of my food.

“Whenever I experience something amazing, I just want others to share in it,” I replied, rubbing Lo’s arm.

“I’m the opposite,” said the young woman to me.  “Whenever I find something amazing, I keep it all to myself.”  She also rubbed the arm of her partner.

“You can have him,” I thought.

Meanwhile, Lo was seated next to Lily’s Uncle Collin.  He arrived to this event without his wife Suzanne and no one blinked an eye about it.  The family was used to their “independent” social schedules.  This wedding happened after the shenanigans that had taken place at Collin’s mountain cottage, so Lo was very familiar with ‘Uncle Collin’ and his love of young women and his E.D. issues.  The whole night, any stranger would have thought that Lo was Collin’s date for the evening.  Given the age difference, they might have thought Lo was his hired companion as his FGE – “Full Girlfriend Experience.”

They danced together – marvelously, I might add – and reminisced, quite loudly at the table, about the days at his cottage.  He repeatedly alluded to Lo suntanning nude along side Lily, going to a farm and milking goats, and they laughed about how Lo lost her bikini bottoms while tubing behind his boat on the lake.

As they told these stories, Collin gradually drew the other guests at our table into their intimate stroll down Memory Lane.  He is charismatic and a good storyteller, but the whole time I was silently fuming, ready to burst out with, “Yeah, you could read all about it on our blog!  With photos!!!  I wrote it better than he tells it!!!”  But I remained silent and let the senior statesmen have the spotlight that he so craved.

He subtly hinted at, without giving too much detail, the nudity, sex, and other debauchery that took place at the cottage.  He was in on the secret we shared with Jim and Lily – that they got married prior to this large ceremony to appease their Catholic families and that, though they lived “in sin” prior to the private wedding, Lily was and continues to be an A.O.L. girl (Anal Only Lifestyle).

After Collin regaled them with his tales of titties and sun, one of the young women at our table, noticing Collin’s wedding ring and Lo’s “hotwife” ring, asked, “So you two are. . . married?”  She asked it hesitantly, knowing it was an inappropriate question that was only sparked by the gaping age difference between them.  Yet the curious guest was inebriated enough to broach the subject and display her incredulity.

“Oh no,” said Lo, laughing and delighting in the twist of the knife that was about to take place, “I’m not married!”

“Oh, so you’re. . . ?” the woman’s half-formulated question hung in the air awkwardly.

“We’re just friends,” said Lo.  “This is my partner, HH,” she added, as she put her delicate hand on mine.

The fact that they weren’t married, but had shared so much together, compounded with the fact that Lo was dating another, yet different, older man who was seated right next to her as she laughed about these sexperiences, seemed to blow the mind of our dinner companion.

“Oh,” she said, feigning comprehension, but displaying complete befuddlement.

The band began to play again and Lo begged me to dance with her.

I demurred, saying, “Dancing is emblematic of our relationship.  When we dance, you do whatever you want.  For me, though, the goal is to have fun.  But all you do is criticize and then, when I stop, you criticize because you always have to have an object of your derision.  Without it, you feel a tremendous void.  And whatever I do – driving, cooking, dancing, cleaning – I’m your eternal object of derision.”

Lo replied, “Well, when dancing, it’s more fun for both partners if one is not stepping on the other’s toes.”

“That’s only possible if you’re dancing solo.”

“You’re right, dancing is emblematic of our whole relationship.”

As harsh as this banter sounds, it was all said lovingly, tongue-in-cheek.

One of our friends at the table overhead us and said, “You two should write a book chronicling your lovers’ quarrels.”

“That’s a great idea!” I replied “That way I could document my long suffering.  I could call it, ‘The History of my Calamities,’ after Abelard.”

“Your calamities,” chided Lo, “you should be so lucky to have an Eloise like me!”

Having fully lost our audience with our theological allusions, Collin remarked, “You two have great erotic tension.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but no erotic release.”

“There’s a difference,” said Lo, “between erotic tension and sexual tension.”

“And what is that?” I asked.

“Erotic tension is in your head.  And you have a great release for that – the blog.  Sexual tension is between your legs and you have a great release for that.”

“What might that be?”

“My puss.”

“How’s your sexual tension?”

“I never have sexual tension,” said Lo casually, “I only have sexual release.”

“I suppose that’s what it means to be ‘a liberated woman.’”

She got up to dance with Collin some more.

Louis Armstrong’s “Just a Gigolo” was being sung by the crooner and Lo, wearing her green velvet dress in honor of the Irish holiday, looked stunning as she twirled and dipped with Collin.

As they kicked up a storm on the dancefloor, one of the women at our table sat next to me.  “Aren’t you jealous,” she whispered in my ear.  I couldn’t help but think of her as Iago.  Though green was the color of the day, it was not the color I was seeing as I watched my Desdemona dance with her Cassio.

“No,” I replied with a smile.

“Not at all?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Want to get some air?” she asked.

“Sure.”

I followed my femme Iago out onto the balcony of the hotel and, though it was freezing in the windy city, she offered me a few puffs from her vape pen.  Not wishing to be rude, I accepted.

Suddenly my Shakespearean companion transformed into a jovial leprechaun and the next thing I knew was Lo, Collin, the sexy pixie elf and I were at The Green Mill, a dancehall throwback to the age of Swing.  A big band was playing with a tall, lean black trumpeter in the lead.  They were pounding out “Tain’t What You Do” as Lo was passed from partner to partner in the crowd that was jumpin’ and jivin’ to the beat.

In my mind, the spotlight was on Lo and her eyes were on the prize – the trumpeter who seemed to be singing the words especially for her, with a peculiar emphasis on them, changing the meaning from, “Tain’t what you do, it’s how you do it” to “Taint, what you do.  It’s how you do it.”

“How you feeling now?” asked the leprechaun.

I felt as if a green wave was carrying my Lo further and further out to sea as I was stranded on the shore watching her recede into the distance.

There, far on the horizon, I saw her up by the stage, talking with the trumpeter who was standing, his crotch eye level with Lo’s face.  She was looking up at him, saying something.

The band took a break and Lo disappeared, as did the band leader.

Collin returned to the table and I inquired about her whereabouts.

“It’s Saint Patty’s Day!” he said, “The luck of the Irish.  I believe that Lo is getting lucky!”  He slapped me on the back and bought me another drink that I didn’t need.  “When in the Emerald City, anything can happen with a little magic from the Wizard,” he said, removing a teal handkerchief from his jacket pocket that suddenly turned into Lo’s satin panties.  He handed them to me and said, “Improbable, yes.  Possible, perhaps.  With Lo, all is green go-go and Eternal Return of the Dame.”

When I heard these words, I knew that I was slowly losing my grasp on reality.

The last thing I recall from the evening was a Julie London song, “Hey Daddy,” being played by the band as an instrumental number.

When I woke up, I was in my hotel room in the bed and Lo was rising and descending on a large bottle of champagne.

Celebration Time

Groggily I rubbed my eyes and looked at her to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.  I then said, “Be careful darling, I wouldn’t want that bottle to break.”

“Not to worry.  I’m wide, wet, and willing.”

As she proceeded to hump to her heart’s content, she said, “Will you order some breakfast from room service?”

Always the dutiful daddy, I said, “Sure, what do you want.”

“A bowl of Lucky Charms.”

Lo’s Taint

Love Poem (with visuals)

I like your red lips.

I like your curvy hips.

I like your pretty smile.

Your eyes drive me wild.

Lo’s Lovely Lips

I like your long brown hair.

I like your seductive stare.

I like your legs spread wide.

You have nothing, nothing to hide.

Los Legs Spread Wide

I like your feet and toes.

I like your meaty folds.

I like your smooth smooth mount,

As your curves kiss my mouth.

Lo’s sexy feet

I like how you smell.

I like how you howl.

I like how you taste.

You’re more than a silhouette’s sleek shape.

Lo’s Silhouette

Drop, drip-drop and let’s have some fun.

Let me into your solo-sex-for-one.

We can enjoy each other’s pleasures,

Heal the pain we caused together.

Lo engaging in solo pleasures

You’re Wendy and I’m Peter Pan.

Let’s fly away to Never Never Land.

Only if you believe, we can find

The Lost Boys, Captain Hook, and stop the Enemy – Time.

99 Problems: A Valentine’s Day Tale

[Dear Lovlies, this story was published in the February 2021 issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. If you would like to get your free Match, Cinder & Spark book, send us an email at: downloladown@gmail.com]

“Well, Darling, I guess it’s just you and me: Santa and his little sexy elf,” I said to her as she snuggled up to me under my arm on the couch.  She was still wearing her sleek red dress and nothing else.  We had the fire going (on the T.V. thanks to Netflix).

Lola’s Good Cheer

“It was a nice day,” she said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.

We both knew it wasn’t like Christmases past.  It was COVID Christmas.  No kissing friends and strangers under the mistletoe or unwrapping presents with a large crowd looking on to see your reaction to their gift.

We had spent the day delivering goodies to friends and family, driving all around town, making stops from noon until nine at night.  Each stop was accompanied by a little chat outside in the brisk air with a shot or two to warm us up.  It was good to see familiar faces and bring them gifts, even if we couldn’t hug, kiss, dance, or sit in their comfortable living rooms for some schnapps and grog.

We were determined to make the day as special as we could.  Now that we were home (and a little tipsy) I told her she could look under the tree to see what Santa had brought for her.

“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.

“Which gets me more gifts?” she asked as she rummaged under the tree and found the little box I had carefully hidden.

She immediately knew what it was.  She opened it extremely carefully.  The diamond ring was illuminated by a tiny light that automatically turned on when the ring box was opened.  It looked magical in the dimly lit room.  The cute case glowed with an aura of heavenly mystique.

“Oh Daddy!” she said, giving me a big kiss.  “How did you know?”

She was being very facetious since she had designed the piece of jewelry, ordered it, and tracked its delivery.  All I did was pass her my credit card and then wrap it when it arrived.

“Is there anything there for me?” I asked.

“Yes, there is.  Wait here and come into the bedroom when I call you.”

A few moments went by before her sing-song voice invited me in.

She was wearing a new red satin negligée.  “My Santa suit.  Second only to my birthday suit.”  She spread her legs to reveal that she also had shaved.

Lola’s present for Daddy

“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.

“You know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

“You’ve been hanging around me too long.  Leave the puns to dads who like dad jokes.”

“Do you like, Daddy?” she asked as she gently tugged at her pussy lips.

“Very much.”

“You’re not hard to please.  You know that?”

“Yes, but when you please me, I am hard.”

“Show me!  Let me drink your eggnog.”

“Your ring looks good on your finger,” I remarked as she stroked herself.

“Yes, now maybe you’ll make me a proper hotwife!”

“Oh no, Lo.  I can’t make a descent woman out of you.  You’ve spent a lifetime cultivating being an indecent woman.”

“True.  But you know, either way, I’m happy.  Deep, deep inside, I’m happy.  And you can be too.”

“Be happy?”

“No, deep, deep inside me.”

She stood up from the bed, bent over, and looked at her exposed rear in the full-length mirror behind her.  “It’s weird,” she said, “how horny I get looking at myself naked.”

I have to admit, she had me excited just looking at her like that.

I fumbled to remove my pants as she pouted, “Daddy, I just can’t wait.”

As swiftly as I could, I slid into her impatient peonies petals, already wet with dew.

Within moments she sensed the inevitable and spun around in order to receive her reward.

Though that may have been my climax, it is not the climax of our story.

Drunk on my cum, she looked up at me and asked, “Which part did you like the most: the first ten seconds or the last ten seconds?”

“Hey, I might have been fast, but what or who can give that much pleasure in so short a time?”

“Are you talking about my ability to give pleasure or yours?  Never mind.  I’ll show you what can give even more pleasure,” she said as she reached under the bed to take out her Hitachi.

Lo gushes for her mechanical lover

As she was on her solo journey to Pleasure Town, I pulled out my laptop and read a few emails written to our shared downloladown account.  There were a number of thank you notes from the men, women, and couples who had received our “XXX-mas” gifts – a free Match, Cinder & Spark book or audiobook.

It was nice to hear from our fans that we helped cheer them up in this otherwise dismal time.

After Lo had ‘spouted off’ in the best possible way, she sat up to look over my shoulder.  Glancing at the screen, I sensed she was a bit disappointed.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something Lo.  What is it?”

“Just the thought that put me over the edge was that you were looking at photos of me, not reading emails.”

“Well, it’s the next-best-thing.  They’re emails about you.  Besides, why would I look at photos of you on my computer when you’re lying next to me vibrating your va-jay-jay till the levee breaks?”

“Exactly!  And why would you be reading emails when you have this at your disposal?!” she said, slapping her sloppy puss for emphasis.

Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Do you think it was egomaniacal of me to give my own books as a Christmas gift?”

“I think it’s egomaniacal of you to write those books.”

“That wasn’t egomaniacal.  That was a gift to humanity.”

“Never have I seen such a self-satisfied narcissist!”

“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”

“Shut up and pass me Glindo,” she said, referring to her glass dildo that was next to me on the nightstand.

Lo and ‘Glindo’

“Why?  What are you up to now?” I asked, seeing her with her legs spread wide on the bed, dildo in hand.

“Nothing, but I’m open to doing something.”

“What are you open to doing?”

“You.”

“Now?”

“Well, after I do myself.”

“Again?”

Never one for false modesty, she implored, “Read to me some of the things people are saying about the book.”

“While you jill it?”

“Yeah, it’s a turn-on to know that I get guys hard and women wet.”

“Well, one person called you a slut and said that you do all this just for attention.”

“That is not true,” she said emphatically, “being a slut is its own reward.”

“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”

She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.

Overcome by her perspicuous paramour, Lo lunged forward with a long, lusty moan.

As she recovered from her self-inflicted squirt, I asked her, “Do you think we should do it again for Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m hoping we’ll do it long before then!”

“I mean a free book for fans.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake.  “Sure.  Maybe we could ask our readers to send in their Valentine’s Day stories and send a free book to the top ten that we publish.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Photos are also welcome,” she added.  “Now do me, Daddy.  I’ve only had two orgasms tonight and you know I need at least three.”

“Lo, you really are a slut for attention!”

“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.”

Be My Valentine

Sore, but not Satisfied

We watched Boogie Nights up until the scene where the newbie pornstar, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg) is filmed by the seasoned director, Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), making love to his wife, Maggie/“Amber Waves” (Julianne Moore).  At that point, Lo was too turned on from watching the movie while cock-warming me to continue.  We retired into the bedroom where she proceeded to ask me, “I bet you’d like to film me auditioning all those men who want to be pornstars, wouldn’t you Daddy?”

“I thought you were sore?” I asked her, referring to her masturbation marathon earlier in the day.

“Sore, but not satisfied.  Fuck me.  I like it when it hurts.”

I slid in her slippery snatch and she moaned with pleasure and pain.

“I think you’d like to be auditioning them,” I responded to her.

By the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head, I could tell that the image of her being the older seductress, seducing young, aspiring actors, getting them to break through the role and into the authentic enjoyment of her body, was turning her on.

While her fantasyland role was screening in the adult theater of her dark and dirty mind, my own thoughts were scrawling across my cerebrum.  Since I had cum on my own earlier that day, my stamina was augmented.  I had plenty of time, while Lo bounced up-and-down on my rod to the beat of her own drum, to explore the following musings.

I began with Boogie Nights and the thought of how, yes, Lo was right, I could easily see myself in the role of the director, Jack Horner, filming his own wife as she slept with various pornstars.  Turning her lustful liaisons into works of art was already my forte.  My mind then turned to the late, great Orson Welles and his love affair infatuation with Oja – his muse, mistress, and movie star of films such as F for Fake, and The Other Side of the Wind.  A documentary about the making of the latter movie came out a couple years ago and in it, those who were on set with Welles recalled how he wanted to film, at great length, a pornographic sex scene starring Oja with Robert Random (actual actor’s name).  Perhaps the aging Welles (he was between 55 and 61 while making it) took delight in seeing his young mistress (she was between 24 and 30 while making it) getting delight from a younger man who could give it to her.  Sounds familiar.

“Deeper, Daddy, please,” she whined as she rode me, startling me out of my musings.

I opened my eyes and saw her pulling at her nipples over me.  “Am I your pornstar?” she asked.

I tried to meet her descending hips with ascending thrusts of my own.  She needed to feel the tip of my shaft on that magic spot deep inside her.  If I were larger, longer, harder, I would press that button without even trying.  But, alas, that was not the case.

Frankie Shaw

 

Frankie Shaw

 

Frankie Shaw using her Instagram to expose herself

Her question turned my thoughts from directors making their muses the material of art, to that wannabe pornstar who used her creative powers of writer, director, and actor to live out her clear fantasy of being fucked on camera.  Frankie Shaw, in her series SMILF, used every opportunity to get naked, get laid, and get herself off in her show.  I wondered how her husband, Zach Strauss, enjoyed watching her perform completely gratuitous sex scenes on the show.  Let’s be clear, none of her sexpoloits were essential to the story – from her fantasy gangbang in the pilot where she is fucked by a basketball team of black men, to her seducing the boy she babysat, to the creepy scenes of her naked in a bathtub with her fictional child.  None of that advanced the plot in a way that it couldn’t have done without those scenes.  But, given the creative license she had, she used it to be as licentious as she could, making her the star – the pornstar.

Frankie Shaw from her Instagram being exhibitionist in her neighborhood during COVID

Lo wasn’t cumming.  She got up, off of me and commanded, “Get behind me and fuck me, hard!”  She was on all fours on the bed and needed me to stand up, perpendicular to her, as she looked in the full-length mirror before her, watching us fuck, as she might watch a porno.

“Come on, Daddio!  Really ram it home,” she called over her shoulder.

I thrust at her with all I had.  I was panting, sweating, wondering if my back was going to be sore for a week.

Mercifully, she began to cum.  I could feel her pussy clenching, preparing to eject me and ejaculate.  Her voice was insistent.  “Cum!  Cum!” she demanded, knowing that there were mere seconds left before I wouldn’t be able to remain deep inside her.

Enjoy your erotic reading.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

“Inmeinmeinmeinme!”

I don’t do well with cumming on command.  If she had said, “Whatever you do, don’t cum,” then there would have been no problem.  Besides, I had, at her recommendation, already cum once that day.  I was near my limit.

Frankie Shaw gets nailed by the boy she baby sat in SMILF

It was already too late.  The torrent had been unleashed.  The spillage had gushed down her legs and now the dam was about to break, flooding me right out of her.

Frankie Shaw stars in a porno

Her legs were quivering and she was pounding the bed with her fist as she screamed “FUCK!  FUCK!  FUCK!”

I backed up and watched the demonic possession take hold as she lost control of her faculties, senses, bodily movements, and sanity.

Her orgasms are simultaneously a full-body and out-of-body experience.  They are sublime to watch, in the full sense of that word: terrifyingly beautiful.

The bed covers were drenched; her body lifeless on top of the mess she had made.

Frankie dreams of Lola

Scene from SMILF
Not necessary, Right?
How did this get approved?

 

Slowly, her breathing steadied and resumed regularity.

She rolled over as if she had been hit by a Mac truck.

“Wow!” was all she said.  And then, a little while later, “I won’t be able to walk, sit, or cross my legs tomorrow!”

Frankie Shaw getting off to Lola Down

“I guess you’ll just have to lie in bed all day.”

“That’s ok, it’s my favorite place to be and my favorite position.”

She got off the bed and began cleaning up the sodden bedding, throwing all of it in the laundry basket.

“Feeling better?”

“You didn’t cum,” she had the gall to complain.

“I did, just not with you.”  I knew that remark would piss her off.

She gritted her teeth and growled at me.

“You told me to fuck Stoya, remember?”

“But on these short days in January, I really needed an injection of vitamin D, if you know what I mean.”

“It would have just come out in the wash anyhow.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

She thought for a moment.  “I like to have the power to make you ejaculate on command.”

“Talk about a control freak.  I did ejaculate on command – your first command.  You told me to jack off while you masturbated to oblivion.”

“But I thought you knew the Golden Rule: Love thy woman as thyself.”

“Oh, is that the rule?  I thought you said it was: Love thyself and often.”

“That’s my rule.  Not yours.”

“So, why did you tell me to go away instead of letting me watch?”

“Well, you made me jealous when looking at all those women.”

You’re the one who wanted to look at them with me!”

“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissively.  “I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Oh, so it had nothing to do with being turned on by them?”

“There was that too.  But now I feel so slutty.”

“You should.”

“No, Daddy.  I mean, not only was I cheating on you. . .”

“It’s not really ‘cheating’ if I know about it and condone it.”

“I was corresponding with a guy online.”

“Today?”

“Yeah, well, like every day.”

“And?”

“His name is John.  I call him my internet boyfriend.”

“I think you mentioned him to me.”

“And I was cheating on him with another guy.  Or maybe I was cheating on the other guy with John.  I don’t know.  It all gets so confusing.”

“Let me see your other boyfriends.”

She showed me their cumtribute photos.

“Looks like I have stiff competition!”

Lola

Masturbation Marathon

Lo and I were in the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch.  She was looking at her phone.  I sat with my laptop open, reading emails, when suddenly, up popped an email in our shared account.  Unlike most of our fan mail, it wasn’t directed to Lo, it was addressed to me.  And it had a few photos attached.  Sexy photos.  Of my female fan.

“What are you looking at?” Lo asked, never one to be unobservant.

“Nothing,” I clumsily lied.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“Just an email,” I said, telling the truth, trying to pass it off as nothing.

“Let me see,” she said, scooting over, closer to me, suspicious.

How does she do that?  How does she know when something is amiss?

My heart was racing.  She gets so jealous.

There was nothing to do but give in to the inevitable.

I showed her the email and the photos.

“Nothing huh?  Who is she?”

“I don’t know.  I really don’t.  Just a fan.  A connoisseur of fine literature.  A grateful reader.  A woman of exquisite taste in art.”

“You really don’t know who she is?”

“I swear.”

“She just wrote to you for the first time?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t carried on a correspondence with her?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“You like her?”
“What do you mean, like her?”
“You find her attractive?”

That is a very dangerous question.  The female author of the epistle in question was, in point of fact, appealing.  As her missive made clear, she was a wife and mother whose sex life had fallen fallow in the past few years as the children occupied more of her time and energy.  But reading about my sex life with Lola had rekindled something deep down inside her and she just wanted to show me exactly where it was rekindled.

“She’s not unattractive,” I said, attempting to be as neutral as possible.

“Let’s play a little game,” said Lo.  I was quizzical.  “I’ll go through photos of our fans and you tell me if you find them sexy.  But let’s do it in the bedroom.”

“What?”

“Yeah, just be honest,” she said as she walked down the hall.

“Are you trying to get me deeper in the hole?” I asked, following behind her.

“Depends on which hole you mean.”

GULP.

“Let’s start,” she said as she took out her computer and went to her special stash of emails and photos.  She unzipped my pants and grabbed onto my flaccid member as she pulled up photo after photo.  Honestly, I was too scared to get hard.

After about five or ten, she paused and looked at me a moment.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Lo, you know perfectly well what’s wrong.  For years now, you’ve made the nature of our relationship clear.  Now you want me to look at other women?  I think that I’m being set-up.”

“No no no,” she said with a smile.  “I’m just feeling like changing things up a bit.”

“You know, I could get just as hard looking at photos of men who’ve sent you cumtributes.”

“Well, maybe I’ll throw in a few of those as well.  But don’t be bashful.  Let’s keep on playing.”

She scrolled through scores of sexy photos and, for each one she gave me a bit of backstory, telling me the names of each woman and a bit of bio.

“That’s Floss,” she said.

“Yes, I know Floss,” I responded as she went through photo after sexy photo of her.

Floss and Match, Cinder & Spark

“And this is Karla.”

“I know Karla too.  In fact I wrote about her.”

Just Floss

“Yes, that’s right.  Did you know her hubby, Chris, gets off to me when he has her at home?”

Karla and Chris

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“This is the author, Larry Archer’s wife.”

“Is she a fan?”

“I don’t know, but I’m a fan of hers. . . and his!”

“And this is. . .”  The list went on-and-on.  With each new set of photos that Lo opened from her password-protected fap file, she grew a little more excited.  If she was a guy (and she sure acts like one), she would have had a raging hard-on at this point.  I have no doubt that her clit was fully tumid.  She was reaching for it.

Karla over the years

Karla’s husband Chris getting off to Lola

“Um, can you give me a minute?” she asked.

“What?”

“Here,” she said, passing me the Stoya Destroya vagina.  “You can use this if you want to wank.  But only use my photos.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna have me a wank too.”

“But you want me to leave.”

“Yeah, is that ok?”

“Um no.  Not really.”

Larry Archer’s wife

“Just give me a little while.”

She got out of bed to escort me to the door as she got out of her clothes.  She put her panties on the doorknob as if she had a paramour over, but it was just her and her fingers, toys, and binders full of women.

I went back to the living room, confused, carrying my vagina.  Well, Stoya’s vagina.  Carrying a vagina.

I returned to the bedroom and knocked on the door furtively.

“What?” she asked, not opening the door.

“Lube,” I said.  “You didn’t give me the lube.”

The door opened a crack.  I saw her standing naked.  She looked good.  Her arm extended, dropping the tube of lube in my hands.

“OK?” she asked, shutting the door.

Stoya front, Lola back

I walked away again.

Finding my way onto the couch, I began writing – this story.

Lo’s orgasmic arias were audible throughout the house.  They rose and fell, crescendo, decrescendo.  So many ups and downs I lost count.  I looked at the vagina sitting next to me and said, “It’s bad enough she needs more from me.  Don’t you just sit there and look despondent at me that she’s getting all the action.  It’s not my fault you don’t have arms, hands, or fingers to help yourself out.”

Finally, I made use of Stoya, more for her sake than mine.  She looked so sad there.

I came, one brief onanistic climax, looking at Lo’s photos on the internet while Lo, in the flesh, was having a grand old time fucking herself just down the hallway.  I got up to do the proper aftercare cleaning of Stoya in the second bathroom and saw Lo’s panties still prominently displayed on the doorknob as Lo went at it.

I returned to the couch and took a long nap.

I was woken up by the feeling of Lo’s lips on my flaccid cock.

“What are you doing?”

“Cock-warming,” she said as she lay naked on the couch between my legs, looking up at me.

“You want something?”

“No, Daddy.”

“No?”

“I’m sore.”

“What the hell was going on in there?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I started off jilling to the women I was showing you, but then I was into the cumtributes I’ve been getting.  I’m such a slut.”

“Agreed.”

“No, you don’t know why I’m saying that.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, I guess it’s bad enough that I am not faithful to you.”

“I don’t mind. . . usually.”

“But I have a sort of internet boyfriend.”

“What is that?”

“You know, like a work wife or a work husband.”

“You mean when people become overly chummy with people they work with?”

“Yeah, like that, but in my case, it’s with people I’ve met online.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I’ve been cheating on one of them with another guy.”

“I’m sure they don’t expect monogamy from you, dear.”

“Yeah, they’re both married themselves.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“That’s just it!”

“What?”

“Do you think I have a problem?”

“Other than being a nymphomaniacal, egomaniacal hotwife attention whore?”

“Yeah, other than that.”

“No, not at all.”

“Really?”

John Doe shrine to Lola

“If your biggest problem is that you’re sexting with someone behind the back of your long-distance lover while shutting me out of the bedroom so you can fist-fuck yourself because you’re turned on by your fandom, well, hey, we all should be that lucky!”

John Doe gets of to Lo

“I love you, Daddy,” she said, before returning to cock-warming me.

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.  What?”

Northerngentleman

“How about Boogie Nights?  Have you ever seen it?”

Northerngentleman cums in his wife’s panties.

“No.”

“Oh, then you’re in for a treat.”

  • Photos used with permission.