Chimeras

Tara led the lion right up to Lo in the center of the circus.  Lo was lying in the muddy dirt of the center ring.  The entire floor of the circus was dirt, but now, where Lo was, it had turned to mud from the copious amount of cum ejaculated by the elephant that had just copulated with Lo.  The viscus, warm, white jizz had spilled out of Lo’s cunt and created a sloppy mess right where Lo was recovering from her dazzling display of big dick penetration.  The elephant put its trunk in a bucket of water nearby and sprayed Lo down, showering her affectionately.  Lo struggled to get to her feet as a new drama unfolded.

With the elephant, the audience was on the edge of their seats wondering if Lo could take the massive pink missile.  And they were ecstatic to see Lo mounted successfully.  But now there was an ominous sense of foreboding under the big tent as everyone held their collective breath wondering if the lion would also mount Lo or if it would eat her – and not in the good way!

Tara stood, holding her whip, ready to smack the lion back into submission, but there was no need.  Apparently this lion had been trained since early age to take women as trophy lionesses.  It approached Lo and quickly, without any feline foreplay, mounted and fucked Lo from behind.  The audience was silent this time, afraid that any loud, enthusiastic encouragement might scare the lion into destroying his mate.  When it had reached climax, Lo realized why a lion’s pack is called a “pride,” since anyone who can handle that cock has to be full of pride, as was Lo.  She was also full of a lot more than that and it was dripping all around her in the ring as Tara led the satisfied animal away and Lo was left standing in the spotlight, soaking in the love of the audience.

Lo and the Lion

As Lo stood, she realized that she had worked up an incredible appetite.  All she could think of was food.

“Cartoon characters get hungry, I guess,” she thought to herself.

She looked at Tara, who was now walking towards her and she said, “Can we eat something?  I’m starved!”

Tara laughed and with the sound of her laugh, which struck Lo’s ears like the gentle, magical and musical cadence of a windchime in a gentle breeze, Lo slowly emerged back into flesh-and-blood.

“Why don’t you put your phone down?” said Tara, as if talking to a child.

Lo looked in her hands and saw her phone open to the “Danger Girl Dating” app.

She was naked on the bed.

Tara helped her up and asked, “Do you want your clothes?”

Lo heard the question.  She understood it, but it was difficult for her to form words.  She simply shook her head, ‘No.’

Art of Lo by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

Tara slowly led Lo down the stairs.  Lo was walking on two feet this time, not like on the way up.  All the guests looked up at the secret agent girl leading the naked and high girl to the living room.

Art of Lo as Leia by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

“Sit here,” said Tara to her docile, amused little love doll, assisting her into the large, comfy chair.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m just going to grab you some snacks.”  Off went Tara on her mission to grab some of the diced cheese cubes, crackers, and a little sparkling water for Lo.

Art of Lo as Leia by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

Sitting in the chair, zoning out, Lo saw Mr. Biggs across the room talking to a woman who was as large as, if not larger than, he!  She was dressed as Mrs. Roper from ‘Three’s Company,’ wearing nothing but a muumuu.  He saw Lo out of the corner of his eye.  (Apparently, he didn’t see her as a nude descending a staircase.)  He brought his new friend over to Lo and introduced them.  Lo couldn’t stand up.  It was all she could do to lift her arm and limply shake the woman’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.”  Forming words was difficult.

The woman smiled, while looking deeply into Lo’s eyes.  Lo was looking at the woman’s eyes, thinking about the Beatle’s song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”  All she heard in her head was “the girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”  The sound looped around in her brain again and again.

Tara returned with cheese and crackers and literally had to feed Lo because Lo was unable to feed herself without making crumbs that fell into her naked lap.

Mr. Biggs apparently enjoyed the “show.”  He was staring intently at the feeding of Lo by Tara.

Mrs. Roper noticed this and before Lo knew what was happening, she found herself atop the large woman who was kneeling on the floor, naked, and lapping up Lo’s labia with her mouth.

Lo gets eaten out at a party

Whatever was happening to her, or being done to her, by the large woman upon whom she sat like on a hopper ball or bouncy ball, in Lo’s mind the woman morphed into a giant Cephalopoda of some undefined sort.  She was slippery and filling every hole all at once.  Lo slipped back into the “Danger Girl Dating” app and back into her “Catnip” alter-ego.

Krakin

The next thing she recalled was voices, seemingly from all directions, asking, “Is it ok if I touch you?” “May I feel you?” “Do you consent to being fucked by me?”

Unclear

Tara appeared in her trench coat and beret and said, “She cannot consent.  She’s tripping her face off on the desserts.”

The next thing she knew, Lo was in the bathtub, filled to the brim, with Tara, transformed into a cartoon as well, lying on top of her and an octopus or squid or something with tentacles lying on top of Tara, filling both her holes and both Lo’s holes at once.  It felt delightful as Lo reached around to squeeze Tara’s breasts.

Lo and Tara in the bath.

“What is happening?” asked Lo in her host’s ear.

Finding Lola – Three Covid Stories

Covid Quarantine had a way of messing with our mental life.  It has been well documented that people reported having more intense dreams during the first lonely months of quarantine.  Since then, many people have experienced a strange time distortion when attempting to recall any sort of chronology.  Things basically fall into B.C. (“Before Covid”) and whatever it is that we’re living through now.  But placing events exactly on a timeline post-Covid is a bit wonky.

For us, Covid was a time when we made a lot of new friends virtually.  In order to help people through the forced “celibacy” of the quarantine (both single people and the people like us who are non-monogamous and so had to curtail their outside playtime) we started up our free books program where we sent a complimentary copy of Match, Cinder & Spark to friends, fans, and avid readers in exchange for their sending back to us a sexy photo of them with the book.  That was so much fun that we’ve continued it on a limited basis.  (Please request one via email if you’re interested.)

We heard from a lot of you out there in Lolaland and we continue to receive sexy missives from our beloved kinkster community.

This week we are going to feature three short stories sent to us by new and old friends.  Diving into Lola’s Letter Box, we are pleased to bring you a story about a single college student, a married couple, and sisters who learned a lot about each other in lockdown.

The first comes from Melissa, a college student who, like Grace, was stuck at home with her parents in the spring of 2020.  “At the time, it was the middle of my freshman year.  I’m a shy introvert, an voracious reader, a bookish nerd,” she says.

I also am a closeted nymphomaniac.  With limited tolerance for social interactions, I found that it was just easier to get off on my own.  In fact, that’s how I found your blog.  I was concerned about my internet porn binging and, by doing a search to find some way out of it, I came across Erica Garza’s book, Getting Off.  And not only did I come across it, I came to it and got off even more!  I couldn’t get off enough and so I did a deep dive (into my pussy and on the internet) until I found your post about ‘Her Porn Addiction’ and everything I read, except for Lo’s confidence and extroverted personality, sounded very familiar to me.

After that, she was hooked.  She became a regular reader of the blog for a while, but she was hungry for more.  Similar to Grace, she was afraid of ordering one of the books and having it arrive at her house, only for someone in her family to discover it and expose her.  So, she too found a way to get off during those isolating times though other means.  “I purchased all five volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark on audiobook and masturbated every night to the voice of Jupiter Grant reading the sexy stories while simultaneously scrolling through the photos of Lola on the blog.”

As we all remember so well, getting out during Covid Quarantine, even just to do shopping or go for a drive, was a big deal.  Melissa relayed that her favorite sexy thing to do was to up the stakes and take risks by getting in the car and playing the audiobook on the speakers while wearing a skirt with no panties and finger-fuck herself or dildo while driving.

Lying down in bed, masturbating naked was fine, but it didn’t have the interaction I craved.  I wanted to be around people.  Also, there’s a difference between hearing Jupiter Grant’s voice through the earbuds and hearing her through the car’s speakers.  Every chance I got, I borrowed my mom’s car and went for a drive.  Listening to the stories was like an education – I learned about some great books I should read and I learned about sex.  Win-win!  But as the months got warmer, I would drive around with the windows down.  One day I pulled up to a stoplight just as Lola was describing being mounted and pounded, used and abused, in the story ‘Pound.’  I was on the verge of cumming when I noticed the guy in the car next to me had his windows down as well and he heard everything that was making me so wet.  He gave me an intense, sidelong glance.  I just looked at him, blushed, and tried to shut off the radio, but I suddenly felt an orgasm violently taking over my body as I reached for the button.  No use.  The light turned green.  Neither of us moved.  I came.  He watched.  It was hot!

From Melissa’s miles and miles of masturbation, we now turn to our good friends Jane and Andrew.  You will recall these newlyweds discovered their kinks on their honeymoon when it was revealed that Jane gets off to erotic stories (like Match, Cinder & Spark) and Andrew likes to wear women’s panties and takes delight in his wife locking his chastity cage while she mercilessly masturbates in front of him as a form of titillating torture.

This week they sent us a photo tryptic of sorts showing how they have fun.  She hops in the tub, takes a long, relaxing bath, shaves her twat clean and smooth, and then cuddles up with a good book.  In this case it happens to be Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts.  When she is good and gushing, she invites in Andrew.  He knows by now that during her sexy-time he is to be locked and loaded.  She then reads aloud the passages that have her groin grinding.  If he is lucky, she might fondle and cup his genitalia, but he is not allowed any greater gratification than that.  Yet she is free to dive into her toy drawer and pull out all the necessary accessories for her maximal self-care.  She indulges freely in the pleasures of the flesh while denying him the release he desires.

Jane and Andrew reading Match, Cinder & Spark

As she was reading the stories, she asked Andrew, “What would you think if I took many male lovers and had them fuck me in front of you?”

“Like Lola does?”

“Precisely.”

“I don’t know if I’d be able to prevent ejaculating, even in my cage.”

“How would you like it if our entire marriage you were never allowed to fuck me – only watch – as I was banged by so many men on a regular basis?”
“You would make me the happiest husband on the planet!”

“Then learned Leo was wrong – not all happy marriages are alike.  Perhaps each happy marriage is happy in its own way.”

“I know ours is.”

For Your Entertainment

 

Our third story is from Nicci and her sister Malory.

[Abridged.  The unabridged version you can find here.]

Just before the lockdown went into effect, Nicci had traveled from her hometown of Charlotte to visit her sister Malory in Tampa.  Everything was going fine until the day the CDC announced that no one should be flying anywhere.  That nixed Nicci’s return flight.  As with everyone else, her job shut down and then went remote, as did Malory’s.  The two of them were cooped up in Malory’s small, one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with only Malory’s black lab, Lucky, for company.  This made for rather cramped living space.  As Nicci tells it, the couch was too small for either of them to sleep on, so they bunked up in the bed.  When either of them needed “self-care” time, one sister had to ask the other sister for some “personal space” to “take care of business.”  On more than one occasion, stuck in bed together at night, one or the other would begin fapping.  Two twenty-something women isolated from the rest of the world needed an escape from the ever more grim news inundating them each day.

But they weren’t the only ones in need of relief.  Lucky was a rescue dog and by the time Malory had adopted him, he was too old to be neutered.  He was “intact,” as they say.  And, as such, he too needed to get off – on the couch, on the floor, on Nicci’s or Malory’s leg.

According to Nicci, one evening the two of them joined in a Zoom happy-hour with some mutual friends.  Both of them had a couple of strong margaritas and after the happy-hour was over, they continued to drink and reminisce about high school days.  Malory brought up one of their girlfriends about whom it was rumored that she had regular sex with her dog.  Nicci denied the rumor as urban legend and they both shared a laugh about it.  That led to Nicci asking Malory if she had ever seen the movie Sleeping Dogs Lie.  “It’s a terrible romcom about a woman who. . .”

“No, don’t even!”

“I kid you not!”

“What kind of romcom is that?”

The two of them ended up watching it, or at least trying to.  Nicci was right, it was terrible.

Sleeping Dogs Lie

“If I hear another accordion, it will be too soon!” said Malory.

“I know!  That soundtrack was the worst.  Like they were some French film or something.  And it manages to be cringeworthy in every way and insult just about everyone.”

“Not to mention, the moral of the story – if you can call it that.  It’s best to lie – to your spouse, family, coworkers, and friends.”

They loved hatewatching it.  Nicci added, “And the entire premise of the film – that a lonely, single college woman would give a blowjob to her dog.”

“I know, right?  I mean, it’s so unbelievable.  If I was that lonely, I wouldn’t blow him, I’d have him fuck me.”

Suddenly Nicci stopped laughing and looked very seriously at her sister.  “What?  You wouldn’t, would you?”

Malory mysteriously said, “Who says I haven’t?”

“Come on!  Stop joking.  Really?”

“Ew!” screeched Malory, dramatically, “I take him out twice a day and clean up his shit after him.  Are you kidding me?  No.”

Sure enough, just as they were having this conversation, Lucky went at it again on the rug.

“Whew,” said Nikki, laughing nervously.  “You had me worried for a minute.”

Malory laughed and, looking at Lucky, said, “If I had been fucking him, I don’t think he’d be doing that like three times a day.”

“You should have named him Horny, not Lucky,” said Nicci.

“Who are we kidding?  We’re all fucking horny and none of us are going to get lucky anytime soon,” replied Malory.

That conversation and movie was enough to set the wheels in motion for both of them.  Who knows, maybe Lucky had this arrangement in mind all the while and that’s why he was constantly causing friction on the carpet.

Before long. . . .

When Nicci would go out to do the grocery shopping or Malory would go for a run in the afternoon or morning, whomever was at home was busy with. . . .

But when Malory went out for a jog one afternoon only to have the sky open up and drench her in a downpour so that she returned to the apartment early, she found her sister dripping wet as well, but not from the weather. . . .  Nicci looked up at Malory with a swirling combination of satisfaction, shame, and helplessness.

. . .

This cozy arrangement continued for about two or three months, until Nicci felt safe enough to return home.  When that fateful day came, she and her sister made an unspoken pact never to so much as mention this intense ménage à trois again.

Nicci wrote to us to say, “Though we never, ever talk about what happened between the three of us in those early months of the pandemic, since then I have found (and shared with Mal) your blog.  (You can guess what I was searching for.)  I didn’t tell her why I was sharing it with her, but I’m sure she figured it out.  Thank you for your honesty, candor, and sexiness!”

Sisters at the beach with Lucky

Deferred Desire

Jane and Andrew

 

Jane and Andrew had just taken their wedding vows.  They celebrated with their friends and family.  They were both in their forties when they finally tied the knot.  After many failed relationships in the past for each of them, they were pleased to finally find each other.  They prided themselves on the fact that the cornerstone of their relationship was honesty.  They loved each other, they admired each other, and they desired each other.

But in the hotel on the night of their wedding, they discovered something about each other neither of them expected.

Andrew was eager to get Jane out of her white gown and get into her wet pussy.  Jane, you see, had been deferring the consummation of their love saying that, though not religious, she wished to wait until they were married before engaging in coitus.  Now that the fateful night had come, Andrew’s desire for his bride had reached its pinnacle.

He slowly unzipped the back of the dress and helped Jane out of it with care.  She wore a white satin bra, white panties, and lacey white thigh-high nylon stockings.  Nearly naked, she sat on the couch and pulled Andrew towards her.  He had already removed his tuxedo jacket, tie, and shirt.  As he stood in front of Jane, he removed his t-shirt.  She had already seen him topless before, but the smoothness of his chest, which lacked any hair, struck her as unusually feminine.  But then she unbuttoned the button on his tuxedo slacks and unzipped the fly, pulling the pants down past his pelvis.  She was shocked at what she saw!

Instead of boxers or tighty-whities, he was wearing a transparent, satin black thong!  His cock was pressed up against the see-through material, barely contained by the tiny triangular fabric, stretching it to almost the breaking point.

“Oh wow!” she said as her face was inches away from the contained cock.  She had never seen him nude before.  “Are these yours?”

“Whose else would they be?”

“Mine,” she said.

He laughed and said, “No, I didn’t sneak into your panty drawer.”

“So you went to the store to buy these special?”

“These and a lot more like them.”

“I see.”

She slid the pants all the way down to his ankles, revealing a second surprise.  He wasn’t wearing black socks, as she assumed.  He was wearing sheer lacey black thigh-high nylon stockings, almost identical to hers.  In their nylons, they were like yin and yang.

“Well, well, well,” she said, “what is this all about?”

“Do you like?” he asked her nervously.

“I do.  Just about anything kinky gets me wet,” she said seductively.

He was thrilled.  He had taken a real chance by dressing up like this under his wedding tux, but he had to know how she’d feel about his kinks.  All was going to plan.  He had suspected it would, but out of fear of rejection, ridicule, or even worse, indifference, he had not revealed this side of himself to her ever before.

“Shall you be Mistress’s little Sub-Boy?”

This question from her took him aback.  He had not thought this far along in the chess game.

“I am Mistress’s little Sub,” he said, furtively, fearful of the wrong answer.

“Go fetch Mistress’s bag,” she said to him.  He brought to her the large weekender bag she had in addition to her suitcase.

She reached in.  He had no idea what was next.  Out of the bag she pulled a paperback book – Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts.  It had a drawing of a woman in tight blue shorts, bent over on the cover.

“Mistress likes to read,” she said.  “Make Mistress an ottoman so Mistress can put her feet up.”

He complied by getting on his knees on the floor and turning himself into a stool for her feet.  She sat in the comfortable chair and read while he dutifully demeaned himself to her will.  However, time went by and he began to wonder if any relief to the raging erection he had at the mere touch of her silken-clad feet was to come.

“Mistress,” he whimpered.

“Yes little Sub?”

“May I please smell your pussy?”

“Yes little Sub.”

She spread her legs and allowed him a good whiff of her cunt through her white satin panties.

“Mistress,” he asked again.

“Yes little Sub?”

“May I please kiss your ass?”

“Yes little Sub,” she said, turning over in her chair.

He kissed her ass.

“That is all,” she insisted, putting an end to his probing tongue.  “Mistress wishes to recline on the couch,” she added.  “Stand by me, little Sub, and allow me to amuse myself with your member while I continue reading my book.”

“Yes, Mistress,” replied Andrew, standing at attention, allowing himself to be used and fondled as plaything of her whim.

“Little Sub,” she said eventually.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Lick my clit.”

“Mistress?” he asked, taken aback by the request.

“You heard me.  Get on your knees and lick my clit as I read.  I have come to a particularly puissant passage and I wish to be stimulated orally.”

She spread her legs and allowed him to pull her panties to the side far enough for his mouth to make contact.  All the while she kept reading her book.

He got down between his mistress’s legs and began to lick politely, respectfully.

“Fuck my cunt with your tongue, damn it!  Make me cum.  Now!” she demanded.

He licked, sucked, flicked, and fucked her orally as best he could.

“Yes, that’s it – make your mistress moan!”

She came, and her cunt drizzled its joyful juices on the white leather couch causing a puddle under her ass.

“Mistress?” he asked once he had emerged from her love-spot.

“Yes little Sub?” she asked breathily.

“Will we ever consummate our love?”

“Little Sub, you have that long protrusion in your panties and I think that as punishment for that, you shall never be able to use it.”

Andrew’s erection grew powerfully in his panties as he contemplated the thought of ever desiring his wife, never satisfying her, never releasing his pent-up phallic powers.

She got up to pee and while she did, Andrew grabbed the book that was lying open to the page Jane had been reading.  It was a story called “Pound” and it had some very taboo imagery in it.

“What are you doing?” Jane demanded when she returned.

“Uh, um, reading Mistress.”

“Without permission?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

She got on the couch across from him and used her feet to tease his cock as he read.

“Is this the story that brought you to an orgasm?” he asked.

“And if it is?” she replied superciliously.

“Well, then I suppose there are more kinks about you that I have yet to discover.”

“Isn’t that what love is all about – the slow reveal of each other’s depravity?”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

“You would if you read more about H.H. and Lola.”

“Am I allowed to cum to her, or them?”

“Absolutely not!”

“But you are?” he asked.

“Mistress’s needs are not for you.  Mistress keeps her cunt off limits.  All her erotic experience is in the mind, in words, in the denial of the dissipation of your desire.  I shall keep you around as my obedient canine.  You shall obey your Mistress and never give in to the aching needs between your hind quarters.  You shall ever remain in a state of perpetual penile priapism.”

Andrew could not have found a better match for his masochistic longings for a sadistic matriarch to marry.

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

 

Happy Families

The next morning, over coffee, while I was cooking up some eggs, Lo asked me completely out of nowhere, “You know what Meri told me when I asked her why the hell she is still with Scott, who has no penis to speak of?”

“No, Darling,” I said, “what?”

“Meri told me that she’s with him because, ‘He calls me: Daddy’s fat little babygirl.’  Can you believe that?”

“What’s not to believe?”
“What’s not to believe?!”

I flipped the eggs, looked at her, and raised my eyebrows in curiosity.

“I mean, well, she’s not fat.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“He’s fat if anyone’s fat.”

“Again, maybe he just likes to think of her that way.”

“She may have put on a few pounds after pumping out three boys, but she’s not fat.  She’s a sexy MILF.  Sexy… MILF… Meri,” she said, gazing off, looking over the brim of her coffee mug.

“You still here or have you gone back down your rabbit hole?”

“And you know what else?”

“No, Darling, what?”

“When I told her about how none of the boys shut the bedroom door while they each had at me –”

“Toast?”

She nodded her head ‘yes,’ as if yesterday’s full day of fucking had famished her.

“She told me that Scott never shuts the bedroom door.”

I carefully put the two eggs and toast in front of her.  I did the same for myself before getting up to grab two glasses and the O.J.

She licked her lips and dug right in, tasting it briefly before continuing.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” I said, sitting across from her, taking a bite of my breakfast.  “He never shuts the bedroom door.”

“Never, since the kids were small.  They just fuck there.  Doesn’t matter who sees, who’s there, who knows.  She says that he believes it shows their love for each other, so why hide it.”

“I take it you disagree.”

“Yes, I disagree.”

“So fucking doesn’t demonstrate love?”

“You know what I mean.  Certain things are not meant for children to see.  Aren’t you shocked at all?”

She was nearly done with her food already.

“Lo, honestly, nothing about Meri really shocks me.”

“What does that mean?”

I finished up my toast, took the last sip of my juice, and got up to collect the plates and glasses.

“You can’t just say something like that and leave it there,” she insisted.  “What do you mean by that?”

“Different families have different internal cultures and norms,” I said, philosophically.

“This is not a study in cross-cultural family units,” she objected.  “This is your typical suburban middle-class all-American family.”

“Typical families are all alike – each has its own hidden little secret,” I said, poorly paraphrasing Tolstoy.

“Don’t you mean, ‘Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’?” she asked.  I love Lo because she’s one of the only humans on the planet with whom I can allude to literary lines and not only be understood, but be corrected.

“Show me a happy family and I will show you a family with a secret.”

“But that’s just it,” she retorted emotionally, “it’s like this family doesn’t have any secrets.  They leave it all out there.”

“Is that so?” I asked snidely.  “Then why have you and Meri been afraid that the cops or social services might rap on the door at any moment since you got back from your camping trip?  If Meri leaves it all out there, then why is she living in fear?”

“That’s different.  I mean, within the family, they all just live and let live.”

“More like fuck and let fuck.”

“Either way.”

“So?”

“I just find it interesting.  Well, strange.”

“You said you don’t think it should be like that.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“And clearly Meri doesn’t either.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Because she asked to use the brothers (or let the brothers use her) so that she could get her kicks outside of the family.”

“Or maybe she just needed bigger kicks,” remarked Lo, alluding to the genetic trait that Meri’s husband shared with his three sons – the trait that left Lo so unfulfilled.

Lo looked into her empty coffee mug and back up at me sadly.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“What’s warm, wet, and makes you horny?”

Warm, Wet, and Stimulating

“Is this a riddle?”

She showed me her empty cup.

“Oh,” I said, comprehending.  “You need me to fill you up.”

I poured more coffee in and she looked up at me seductively and said, “Just add cream.”

“Well,” I said to her, “I need something warm, wet, and stimulating to get up.”

“Here I am, Daddy,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

“I was speaking about coffee, but really?”  I asked because I thought she had been too well-worn to fuck.

“Well, I’m functional enough to give you a handjob.”

We finished our coffee and then walked to the bedroom where she reached down between my legs to assess the situation.  She felt me and then reached down between her legs.  I heard her smack her pussy a few times and then rub it.  A little factoid about Lola – she never uses lube and certainly never spits in order to lubricate me or herself.  She is almost always so naturally irrigated that she can always use her own secretions to get things slipping and sliding.  She began stroking me.  Despite the fact that she had showered and changed the bedding, I could still detect a whiff of the cum from eight people on her and in the room.

As she was distractedly stimulating me, she got a text.  I heard her chuckle.

“What?” I asked.

She showed me a photo of her, naked, looking disheveled on the bed.

I want my family to see how I fucked you, slut

“After Meri had licked me clean, and was getting dressed, she said to me, ‘Did you like how I fucked you, Lola?  Let me get a photo of you for my husband and my sons.  They’ll want to see just how wrecked I left you, slut.’  She can be cruel sometimes.”

I looked at the photo and pictured all that happening as Lo coaxed me, “Cum.  Please cum.  That’s it, in my hand.  Feel better, Daddy?”

Sweet Service

I had deposited a warm load in her palm.  She licked it like a kitten cleaning her paws.  I began to nod off as the waves of well-being washed over my weak body.

“Oh no,” said Lo, “No sleep for you!  You promised you’d clean up all your books today!”

“I need a mancave to hibernate in,” I said groggily.  “I’m just going rest for a little bit.”

“And I need a womancave!”

“Luckily, you have one.”

“And you’re not welcome in it until you clean up the books.”

I fell asleep.

When I woke up, Lo was going at both her womancaves with the plungers – blue in bum, pink in pussy.

Blue for Bum, Pink for Pussy

She was looking at her phone.

“DP?  Really?” I asked.

“Oh, Daddy.  You know I love double-penetration.  And if you’re not going to give it to me, well, I have to get it somehow.”

“What brought this on?  I thought you were too sore even for me.”

“It’s call desire.”

I was confused.

Once she noticed that I was watching her, she came and came hard, yelling out to me (and all the neighbors within earshot) that she was cumming in her ass and her cunt.

“I call it, ‘Desire'”

When she was done, I asked, “Desire?”

“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, “Scott and Meri each texted me separately that they want me.”

“And that’s what made you horny enough to ride dueling dildos?”

“Being desired is my aphrodisiac.”

“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.

May is Masturbation Month Free Book Promotion

Hello Friends,

We’ve had so much success with our spreading the love during COVID by sending a free book to those who promised to send us sexy photos and stories in return, that we want to keep the good vibes going by doing it again for May is Masturbation Month!

Here is a sample of our first promotional give away. If you’re interested in being part of the May Make Yourself Happy Month, send us an email and just let us know where to send the book and to whom: downloladown@gmail.com

Until then, enjoy the stories on the internet.

Missy of Focused and Filthy

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Alia

Lillith Avir

Sometimes Sam. Alia’s hubby, has to take matters into his own hands.

Sam and Alea read Match, Cinder & Spark together.

Floss of FlossDoesLife
and Match, Cinder & Spark

Love is a Fetish and so is Lo

Nikki and Lola

Purple Gem gets excited about his copy.

LilGems Daddy has a happy read.

Lil Gem

Lil Gem

Lil Gem

Lilith, Michael, Lola

Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories

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.

Flappers, Floppers, and Fappers

Lola as a 20’s Flapper

[This story was printed in the December issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. Get yours today!]

We pulled up outside the stately mansion, exterior up-lighting illuminated its solid granite façade and the silver hue of the full moon reflected off the glittering snow of the estate.  We could already hear music emanating from the warm glow within the large windows where the Christmas revelers were crowded into the grand ballroom.

We were a mere twelve days away from 2020 and the historic home was throwing a Gatsby inspired ball to usher in the new decade and raise money for the private trust which kept the historic home open to the public as a museum and park.  Tickets were limited and expensive, but we managed to score four: two for Lo and me and two for Mark and Stephanie.  You will recall that they are the married couple with two young kids at home.  They like Lo and me because we encourage them to get out and do things like they used to, pre-kids.  And Lo is in lust with Mark.  He, for his part, has fawned on Lo, but resisted her advances thus far. 

The four of us had dressed for the occasion; Mark and I in classic twenties attire, complete with bowties and him sporting a little straw hat, Stephanie and Lo both adorned as flappers.  Lo wore a tight, shimmery silver sequin dress with tassel fringes and a silver Charleston pendant headband upon her dark mane of hair.  Stephanie wore a sleek red velvet dress with a plunging neckline in the front and back, revealing almost more skin than it concealed.  She wore a little black bowler hat with it and many strings of costume pearls.

We were a handsome foursome to behold, I’ll admit.

As we entered the ornate palace, we were greeted by the cheerful “maid” who took our tickets and said the exact words I like to hear upon arriving at a party: “The open bar is right there.”

Our pricey entrance fee included drinks for the evening, small appetizers and a light meal, as well as the ten-piece swing band playing the Shimmy, Fox Trot, and Lindy Hop for an enthusiastic audience, many of whom were either professional or amateur enthusiasts of this bygone style of dance.  They were good and a delight to watch!

The drinks were poured generously by the barhops and the food was scarce and light fare, resulting in a lot of the partygoers getting sloppy drunk fast.  Luckily, we had hired a limo for our transport to and from.

As the band churned out rhythmically charged dance tunes, made more intense by the brass accents and lyrical clarinet, more and more people got up to dance.  Old, young, couples, singles, strangers, straight, gay, good dancers and bad all hopped and glided to the beat of the drums.  For the first time I realized that punk and ska, with their fast tempos and driving beat, were not really new creations of an angst-ridden age, emerging from the ’80s disenchantment with hippy hope and prog-rock complexity.  No, the Roaring Twenties had every bit of pent-up primal power in its music as anything that came afterwards in the age of amplifiers.

Not Lo, but very similar.

Lo and I danced, Stephanie and Mark danced.  Lo and Mark danced together as Stephanie and I danced.  She shimmied and shook in her flimsy dress.  Her nipples grew erect as the fabric rubbed up against them and little beads of sweat formed on her chest.  Her breasts were small and sagged, so she had no cleavage to speak of, thus she easily emulated the ʼ20s icon of women’s fashion, the garçonne.

When I also worked up a sweat and needed a break, Mark accompanied me to the bar as Lo and Stephanie flew and flapped together on the dancefloor.  Mark said something to me as we waited for our drinks, but I couldn’t quite make it out other than that it was about Lo and, I assume from the look on his face, it was complimentary.

As we made our way back to the dancefloor, drinks in hand, an older woman (yes, even older than I!) approached me, took Lo’s martini out of my hand and said, “Thank you, sweetie,” as she drank it down in one fell swoop and then invited me to dance.  I couldn’t say no, so I asked Mark to hold my drink and I went out on the dancefloor with her.  She just wanted to be held and to hold a man, any man, as she once was held by her man years ago.  The Spirit of Christmas Past filled her eyes as she swayed in my arms.  I knew not who she was, nor she me, but for a moment I was everything she longed for and I was happy to fulfill her Christmas Present, however briefly.

The song came to a close and the band took a well-deserved break.

Mark, Stephanie, Lo and I explored the various rooms of the Tudor Revival home.  Lo was feeling frisky and, at many of our stops by bedrooms with canopy beds, she was groping me and whispering in my ear something slightly intoxicated about Mark.  Her words were not quite audible enough for me to comprehend, but the tone was one I knew well – full of desire and sensuality.

The rest of the evening’s entertainment was mostly a blur for me, until our quartet got into the limo for the hourlong ride home.  Lo was riled up and reaching for relief.  As soon as we were in the dark, leather interior of the car, she leaned in for a long wet kiss from me, grabbing my hand and placing it up, under her sequin dress, between her legs, seemingly oblivious to our companions, but secretly glad to have them, or particularly Mark, as an audience.

“I want you Daddy,” she whispered to me.

I looked over her shoulder and saw that Stephanie was similarly engaged with Mark.  That put me at ease a bit.

Soon Lo scootched on the seat and slid out of her panties (also silver) and she dropped them on the floor.  The hem of her sequins was up around her waist.

I looked over at Mark and saw he was eyeing Lo while Stephanie was allowing her braless breasts to fall out of the taut fabric.

Lo also noticed this and she sat back, putting her feet up on the seat, spreading her legs, and pulling at her pussy lips, watching Mark and Stephanie.  “Look,” she said, diddling her unusually long labia with her finger like a miniature boxer at the speed bag, “I’m a real flapper!”  She cackled and I could tell she was very intoxicated.

Lo’s Labia

Mark moved from next to Stephanie to my side.  Lo was on my left fapping as Mark was on my right, very close to me.  I looked across at his wife as she looked at the three of us.

To my great surprise, Mark placed his hand on my knee and said, “Do you like what you see?” meaning Stephanie.

“I do,” I replied.

Stephanie, I realized for the first time, was basking in our attention.

Mark’s hand slowly but firmly made its way up my thigh to my crotch.  I was frozen in place.  I think Lo glimpsed what was happening from the corner of her eye and she reached over to feel where Mark had placed his hand.  She cooed, “Oh yeah,” in a long, drawn out whisper as her left hand continued pull and stretch her loose labia.

“Are you hard for her?” Mark asked me.

I didn’t know what to say, so I stayed quiet and he slid his hand up and down my hard shaft.

“Take it out,” he gently instructed me.  “Show her.”

I opened my pants and pulled out my cock.  He held it as Lo leaned over and went down on it with her mouth.  Suddenly, I was the center of attention.  Stephanie’s eyes met mine and she proudly displayed her breasts.

She was ten years older than Lo, the mother of two young children, and her already diminutive breasts were flat, sagging, and flopping, forming the same shape as her drooping pearl necklaces as she leaned over.  I could see by her expression that she longed to be beheld, to be an object of desire.  She also knew that I was off limits.  Lo is free while I am happily her kept man – an arrangement I had explained to Stephanie in the past.

But then, to my astonishment, Lo and Mark switched – Lo held my member as Mark swirled it in his mouth.  All the while his betrothed voyeuristically observed from her side of the limousine.

Lo’s lips locked with mine and she held my manhood firmly in Mark’s mouth.

“Cum, Daddy,” she encouraged.  “Cum.”

Her blessing granted, I took it as a command and obeyed without delay just as we pulled up to Mark and Stephanie’s driveway.

Mark kissed Lo a long, open-mouthed kiss goodbye.  I gave Stephanie a polite kiss on the cheek and wished them both a very merry Christmas.

Once they were gone, leaving Lo and me alone in the car, I turned to Lo and said, “What was that all about?”

She just smiled and replied, “Now I finally know why he has rebuffed my advances all this time.  It had nothing to do with me.”  She sounded quite relieved.

“Ooooh,” I said, slowly making the connection.

“Did you like it, Daddy?”

“I did.  Did you?”

“So much.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“It was magical.”

“I think we’ll really enjoy the ’20s.”

“Yeah.  Let’s hope that flappers come back in style,” she said, looking down at her pussy and pulling again at her stretched labia.

“Lo, your beauty is timeless.”

Little did we know then what the Spirit of Christmas Future had in store for all of us in 2020.

A little Christmas cheer!

ENM December 2020 Issue

The Body Politic

[An excerpt of the following appeared today in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, November, 2020 issue.  Waring, political stuff ahead.]

It’s November of an election year.  And not just any election year, but perhaps the most vitriolic, divisive, and ugly election year ever.  Well, except for 2016.  As I’ve stated before, this sacred, sexy space of ours, this small column in the vast expanse of contemporary writing, steers clear of politics, except for the fact that nothing is a-political anymore.  Writing about sex, celebrating sexuality, and depicting a strong, independent, sexually explicit woman like Lola Down is itself a political act.

Lola as depicted by Roman Doodle

But in this very politicized climate, it is nearly impossible to provide a playground where the ubiquitous partisan battles don’t bleed over the boundaries we have created.  People on the right have appropriated the term “cuck” as a pejorative for the left.  Queer men on the left have appropriated “Proud Boys,” to the consternation of that far-right group.  Just beneath the surface of these slogans and slurs is a swirl of sexual energy, frustration, confusion, and subliminal eroticism misdirected and perverted into hatred and violence.

Misogyny, racism, sexism, gender identity politics, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, and politization of polyamory are all interrelated issues, impossible to easily separate into isolated questions.

We live in strange times; times I never thought I’d see.  The President of the United States is a man married (his third marriage, mind you) to a woman born in a different country who had a career as a model, occasionally posing nude and with other nude women in homoerotic images.  And yet, he’s not a radical leftist liberal, but embraced by the conservative Christian right!  He has had numerous affairs with porn stars and other women, yet that hasn’t prevented him from gaining the backing of the Bible Belt.  But his exoneration by the religious right has not been equally applied.  Those who work in the sex industry were not similarly embraced or given the same shame-free-pass as the President.

In 2016 the first female presidential candidate was eviscerated, mainly for wearing a pantsuit.  Yet, in 2020, between Hope Hicks, Kayleigh McEnany, Ivanka Trump, Omarosa Manigault Newman, Mercedes Schlapp, Lindsay Walters, Zina Bash, the First Lady, and others, it is sometimes difficult to tell the difference between the White House and the Playboy Mansion.  Perhaps that is Trump’s appeal to many; he fills the void left by the death of Hugh Hefner.

Hope Hicks (Sorry Hope It's A Gentleman's Club) | Valentino gowns, Beauty, Hair

Hope Hicks gender bending at the W.H.

And all of this tumult and turmoil, not coincidentally, floats to the surface in the wake of eight years of an African American man occupying the White House.

I mention our current and past political theater as a preamble to confronting a porn/erotica trope as ubiquitous and with as long a history as that of the “Lolita” nymphomaniac figure.  I speak of the so-called “Mandingo Myth.”  This deep-seated belief, whose pedigree can be traced as far back as Ancient Greece and Egypt, holds that African men wield sexual appendages that dwarf those of fair-skinned Europeans.  Throughout the ages, the image of the hugely hung black man has been perpetuated as well as perverted in order to promote a racist agenda: The longer the penis, the more bestial the sex-drive, the less human the man and thus the greater the threat to white society, especially its womenfolk.  (See A Mind of Its Own: A Cultural History of the Penis, by David M. Friedman, chapter III, “The Measuring Stick.”)

Lo’s idea of a perfect date

Over the centuries, the long black appendage has been compared to a Priapus (that is, the male fertility god), a donkey, stallion, buck, and even a pre-Adam serpent of the Garden of Eden responsible for Eve’s seduction and the Fall.  Throughout the ages, but most prominently in America from Reconstruction onward, this archetype of the African American man’s exceptional endowment has been the focus of white fear and fetish, engendering multiple myths, none of them ending well for the African American man.  This theme is almost comically depicted in the various King Kong films, but most explicitly in the 1976 version.  Plot: The Petrox Oil Company seeks to plunder a remote island of its oil.  They find no natural resources to make their venture profitable, but they do find and trap King Kong, a preternaturally large black ape.  They return to the U.S. with their unusual cargo.  However, Kong has fallen in love with Dwan (a scantily clad, blonde woman played by Jessica Lange).  Unable to allow such an unfathomable relationship, Kong is killed.  (In the original 1933 version, he climbs the giant phallus, the Empire State Building.  In the ’76 remake, he climbs the World Trade Center buildings, thus doubling the phalli.)  The allegory is quite transparent: white colonialists set out for raw materials, they return with slaves from Africa whose unusual size threatens their white women and must be killed.

King Kong Jessica Lange 8x10 HD Aluminum Wall Art at Amazon's Entertainment Collectibles Store

Jessica Lange in King Kong 1976

A year earlier, in 1975, the same myth was played out, only without the allegorical trappings, in the film Mandingo, based on the 1957 novel by the same name, from which the “Mandingo Myth” gets its label, though its predecessors in white Western mythology predate it by millennia.

Lo and an admirer in the park

How do you measure up?

Unfortunately, today we still find this trope used as both the focus of taboo fetishes (“Blacked” porn, which fetishizes both black men with large cocks and white, usually blonde and petit, women) and phobias for political ends.  For instance, in 2017, Enrique Tarrio, the leader of the Proud Boys, posted a tweet in which he asked if white women would be more willing to donate $20 to Trump’s campaign or walk past a group of black men while wearing a sundress.  (The Daily Mail, 10/1/2020, “Leader of the Proud Boys is the State Director of Latinos for Trump”)

Lola’s fan

In today’s tribal public sphere, there is little we can agree upon, but one thing that is unimpeachable is, as David Friedman says, the one place where race and sex (and we can add politics) converge is the black penis.

Lola’s COVID Gang-Bang Datenight

The long black dong is the symbol of white, male fragility.  It signifies the fear of masculine inadequacy and the homoerotic desire for sexual prowess.  Both symbol and signifier are pointers and the thick, strong, dark schlong is frequently depicted as pointing at the helpless, weak, innocent white blonde.  Copulation by contrast.  This ubiquitous trope penetrates deep in the psyche of our culture.

Just as black men are often reduced to their primal virility as exemplified by the penis, so too women are subtly and explicitly made into a medium for the message communicated by the patriarchal culture.  In recent memory, the collective unconscious probably recalls images from silent black-and-white films of a damsel-in-distress tied to the railroad tracks by the sinister mustachioed villain.  This image is emblematic of an archetype that transcends time and space: the bound female.  Ancient stories span the globe of women tied up – as sacrificial victims, concubines, slaves – from the abduction of Sita in the Ramayana to the afore mentioned Dwan of King Kong and, of course, Princess Leia in her famous Jabba the Hut scene in Return of the Jedi (1983) – project and perpetuate the idea of women as victims in need of a hero.

Lola’s Sexy Shoes

From nude or nearly nude women dancing in cages at clubs, raves, and music concerts, to Taylor Swift reenacting the railroad scene in “Mean,” this trope is conspicuously depicted and sexualized, but there are far more nuanced ways of sending the same message.  What is the message?  Women are weak, needy, helpless, and their power, like Prometheus (an example of gender inversion of the architype) is under wraps.  Notice, if you will, women’s fashion, from undergarments to gowns.  What is a recurring theme?  Straps, bows, knots, strings, and all manner of imagery suggesting restraint while simultaneously revealing skin.  Beyond that, almost every article of clothing is designed to depict weakness, vulnerability, and impotence.  Watch your local or national news, for instance.  How are the men dressed?  Buttoned up shirts, ties, long sleeve jackets revealing the least skin possible.  They are formidable, as if wearing body armor.  And the women?  Blouses cut at the shoulder, plunging necklines, form-fitting soft colored tops.  Imagine for a moment what you would think of a male news anchor reporting in a halter-top made of thin, silky material.

Lola Upskirt

Beyond the blouses, there are the skirts.  Dresses were, perhaps, originally designed to conceal the shape of the woman hidden beneath all the folds and flourishes.  But today, dresses and skirts are designed to inhibit freedom of movement, conceal as little as possible, and leave the woman wearing them vulnerable to the inadvertent upskirt.

Lola in a cute little bow

Working our way down, we next arrive at women’s footwear.  High heels keep a woman off balance.  Not only do they prevent any aggressive action, they inhibit flight.  Women’s dress shoes, for the most part, make them a helpless victim in the face of any danger.  Beyond that, they continue the ligature leitmotif.  Straps, bows, chords, all depict the female foot in a shibari shoe.

Tied Up

It’s important to recall that liberating oneself from the cultural baggage one inherits by virtue of merely being born into a particular time and place is not accomplished by merely adopting the opposite position.  In the dialectical structure, inhabiting the antithesis merely reaffirms the thesis.  It does nothing to diminish the power of the thesis.  Rather, twisting free of the rigid and possibly oppressive cultural constraints is a tricky and subtle art.  It requires first understanding the nature of one’s servitude and then becoming master of it.

Lola is by no means exempt from our culture’s conventions any more than you or I.  However, she does like to play with the tropes and taboos just the way that a good composer doesn’t merely adhere to the rules of the times, but will surprise and delight by contorting them in unexpected patterns.

Lola’s Cock

Of course, in our relationship there is the patent hotwife – cuck/stag – bull roles to be played.  But we emphasize the play of that is inherent in any roleplaying.  Lo has her soft spot for knots (of all variety) and strappy heels, dresses, bras, panties, and even corsets.  She also has her wet spot for BBC.  But it also delights her to wear her strap-on, to wield her cock, and to fuck like a man.  Call her a switch if you wish.  She also oogles and drools over the many fan photos she gets from black bulls endowed with length, girth, and heft she has rarely met in the flesh.  But she also loves her male trans fans who send photos of themselves in their wives’ panties or cumming in their pantyhose.  For, when it comes to sex, the one rule that holds is that nothing is essentially anything.  Existence precedes essence, as the Existentialists mantra goes, meaning, before we had determined male/female, man/woman, straight/queer, black/white, there were just people doing stuff.  Their names, definitions, categories, and expectations of norms all came later.

TV fan of Lola

 

 

 

These observations are meant neither to condemn nor condone the complex cultural code with regard to BBC or BDSM as it manifests in veiled, seemingly innocuous symbols such as popular movies and fashion.  Rather, this thought piece is more along the lines of semiotics (the study of signs and symbols in culture) than a cultural critique.  Signs and symbols perform a function; they point at something.  In this piece, the sign/symbol with which we began was the black penis, which is, innately and ironically, also a pointer.  Perhaps it is pointing at our radical possibility for the future.  I simply wanted to point that out.

Smaller Big Fan of Lola