Category Archives: Yoga Pants
Protected: A Wet Workout and a Wank
Introducing Elizabeth Wylde
2
Elizabeth Wylde
“Lizzy, the book got returned,” Lola said as she sat on the couch, playing with her cooch.
I could hear Lizzy, that is, Elizabeth Wylde, on the other end of the phone let out a moan of disappointment.
“They won’t deliver to P.O. boxes. What should we do?”
“Try this address,” said Lizzy, telling Lo where to have the book shipped. “It’s my aunt and uncle’s house, but they won’t mind.”
Lo laughed. “You sure? What if they open it accidentally?”
Lizzy also laughed and said, “That would be a tough one to explain.”
About two weeks later the book, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts, arrived for Aunt and Uncle Wylde. They didn’t open it, but they were curious. They called Lizzy and she came over one Sunday to pick it up.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” asked Auntie Wylde.
“Nah, I know what it is.”
“What is it, Lizzy?”
“A book for work.”
“Work?” asked Uncle Wylde.
Now Lizzy got herself into it. Lizzy’s work, you see, is sexy phone chat.
“Yes,” she responded, “work.”
“I thought you were out of work since the pandemic started,” inquired her aunt.
“I’ve picked up a job I can do out of the house.”
“Really? And what is that?”
Lizzy had to think quick on her feet. “Customer service. . . for BJs. I make sure everyone gets what they want.”
“Oh, so I might get you next time a package is lost?”
“You might,” said Lizzy, laughing to herself.
“So, what is that?” asked her uncle, returning to the rectangular shaped package in Lizzy’s hands.
“Instruction manual.”
“Don’t they have that online?”
“Top secret. The internet isn’t to be trusted,” said Lizzy.
Luckily, she managed to get out of that jam without opening the book in front of them.
She quickly drove home, stripped naked, hopped into bed, and opened up her literotically Lola paperback.
Just as she was about to feast upon the non-fiction fuckery, her work phone rang. It was Henry, a regular client. At his request, Lizzy told him exactly what she was up to. He requested that she read to him. She opened the book to the middle and began reading the story, “Home Entertainment.” She had no idea what she was in for! As the story progressed, Lizzy realized the taboo topic she had waded into and waded is the right word for she was very, very wet by this point. She could hear Henry moaning on the other end of the line and soon enough both of them were climaxing together to the cadence of the chapter.
When she was done, she pulled out her laptop and added a line to her brief bio:
Hi, I’m Elizabeth Wylde – a sexy, crazy, caring, fun-loving girl who provides erotic phone conversations. I’m a sex addict who channels my issues through making explicit adult content. I love being watched and turning people on, getting them hot, making them cum. In some weird way it’s an exciting accomplishment just knowing that you blow a huge load or squirt by fantasizing about little ole me! Give me a call for some sexy talk or, if you want, I’ll read you a taboo tale from Match, Cinder & Spark – my favorite collection of literary smut.
When she was done, her phone rang again. It was Henry coming back for more.
HERE is Lizzy’s LINKTREE and a few fun photos too!
Lizzy Reads Match, Cinder & Spark
Lizzy and Lo
Cum to the photos, stay for the story.
A view from behind
Lizzy is waiting for your call.
Toon of Lizzy
The Real Deal
Lizzy is ready
toon time fap
toon time fap no panties
Don’t you want this ass?
This ass wants you!
Lizzy & Lo
Lizzy & Lo
Opening Up
Lo, falling out of her blue dress
[This story was just published in the August issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy ‘ENM’ Magazine, p. 34. Enjoy!]
Slowly our world was opening. Like a tightly bound spring bud on the perennial, gradually, with the days growing longer and the temperatures climbing, the petals begin to unfurl, letting in water and air, letting out color and aromatic fragrance, similarly, with each passing day, more people were walking on the streets, more shops invited in limited customers, more restaurants set up tables outside. The patrons cautiously caroused and conversed in the allure of springtime sunshine that thawed the COVID chill of winter.
“Daddy,” said Lo that afternoon as she called me from home to my office where I was working, alone.
I knew from her tone, she wanted something.
“Yes?”
“Daddy, it’s Friday.”
“I am aware.”
“And it’s beautiful outside.”
“I can see,” I said, gazing out my office window onto the usually bustling, now sleepy street below.
“We haven’t had a date in forever.”
I wanted to remind Lo that, in the time of COVID-19, Friday evening is no different from Monday or Wednesday or any other day. But I refrained and listened.
“Can we go out?” she asked.
“For a walk?”
“No, I mean like out out.”
“To a restaurant?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Lo, you know that you’ll only have a panic attack tonight if we do that.”
“I want to get dressed up, put on makeup, wear some fucking heels, and go out!”
She protested to me with the pent-up anger she had for the pandemic.
“Dressed up? Out? Where?”
“Anywhere! I haven’t worn anything but yoga pants for three months!”
“Spandex is your best color.”
“How can you possibly love me looking like this?”
“What? I love you in yoga pants. I love you out of yoga pants. I love getting you out of yoga pants. Then I love getting in you. But I digress. Where were we?”
Lo getting out of her yoga pants
“You’re taking me out tonight and we’re going to go to a restaurant to eat and pretend like none of this is happening!”
“If that’s what you want. You know I can’t deny you.”
“Good! I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”
A half hour later I got a phone call from Lo. “Daddy, I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
“You said a half hour a half hour ago.”
“Yeah, well, I forgot how to do this.”
“How to do what?”
“Put on makeup. I’m a mess. I have to start over.”
About an hour later I got a text from Lo, “I’m out front.”
I packed up my stuff and walked out onto the street. I saw Lo parked in front of my building, the windows down, looking toward the sidewalk, but not looking at me. She wore her tight blue dress. She had intense red lip gloss on and her hair was done like I hadn’t seen in three months or more.
I hopped in the car. “Hello.”
She was running her tongue over her lips.
“I see you’re eager for our date,” I said.
“Sit back,” she said, hardly acknowledging my presence.
I saw her looking through the plate glass window of the store to my right.
“I have an admirer.”
In the window was a young salesclerk. If I had to guess, I’d say he was about twenty-two. He was gazing right past me into Lo’s seductive eyes.
“It’s been a while,” I said to Lo. “Enjoying the attention?”
Lo didn’t answer. She was basking in the youth’s admiration of her beauty.
“I see that COVID hasn’t killed your vanity.”
“Vanity?” Lo asked, starting the car, “If you were about two minutes later, I would have had an orgasm right here.”
“Well don’t let me stop you.”
She pulled away from the curb, blowing a kiss to her handsome stranger who was reverse window shopping Lo’s goods.
“OK Love, where to?” I asked.
“Somewhere with outside seating.”
“That’s all that’s open right now.”
“And good food.”
“Of course. And expensive.”
“Why must it be expensive?”
“Because you judge a restaurant by how much weight my wallet loses.”
“You’re not wrong. And it also has to be pretty.”
“Guaranteed you’ll improve the atmosphere.”
I was glad she was driving. It’s difficult enough to find a dining establishment in this town that meets with Lo’s mood during normal times. I did not want to be the one responsible for pleasing her palate during COVID.
We zig-zagged through our city as she made suggestions and I looked them up to see if there was a chance that we’d get a table.
“Can’t you hurry, the sun will set soon!”
“Lo, this plan suffers from one fatal error.”
“What’s that?”
“It wasn’t planned!”
Exhausted, frustrated, and hungry, we abandoned dining out in favor of picking up two to-go meals, a bottle of champagne, plastic utensils and eating on a park bench overlooking the skyline of our city as the hues of dusk drenched us in an orange glow.
“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” I said.
No response.
“It’s intimate and romantic.”
“I want fancy, elegant, and full of possibilities.”
“Lo, we’re just not at that stage yet. I don’t even think the governor has ‘erotic dining’ on the list of phased reopening.”
“Well he should!”
We drove home and she sulked in the passenger seat.
“What will cheer you up?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“There has to be something to get you out of these doldrums.”
She looked off into the distance and then back at me. She clearly was forming a thought. She reached over and ran her hands through my hair.
“What?” I asked, nervous.
“I’ve got an idea.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.
“When we get home, let me cut your hair.”
“What?”
“You need a haircut and you’re not ready to go to the barber.”
“Will it make you happy?”
“Very. I’ve always thought I could do it better.”
“You think that about everything.”
“Well, it’s true about most things.”
We got home and she said, “Get naked.”
“I thought you were giving me a haircut.”
“I am. Get naked.”
“I don’t get naked for my barber.”
“You’re going to get naked for me.”
I stripped out of my clothes and sat on the chair she set up in the bathroom. She pulled out the electric trimmer and some scissors, hair clips and my comb.
“Lo,” I said furtively, “you know that professional hairdressers spend one year only cutting the hair on manikins.”
“I watched a YouTube video. I’m good.”
“Oh, I see. Those hairstylists are wasting their tuition dollars.”
“Don’t you worry, I know what I’m doing.”
She got out of her blue dress and was wearing just her thong and a tank top revealing a lot of side-boob.
“Ok, I’m feeling better about this already.”
“I see,” she said, admiring my erection. “Does that happen to you at the barber?”
“My barber is named Luige, what do you think?”
“Good.”
She began with the back, running the trimmer up my scalp. Then the sides.
“You know, it’s my hair, not mowing lawn, right?”
“I told you, I watched a video.”
Then she came around the front and was looking at my head like a work of art, checking the symmetry. She got out the scissors, leaned in, combed my hair up, and began snipping, placing her breasts in my face. I pulled her shirt up to let her nipples dance before my admiring eyes. I leaned forward and took one in my mouth.
“Hey! You know I’m cutting your hair here?”
“Sorry, I got carried away.”
“Leave my tits alone until I’m done.”
“Can you cut my hair like this?” I asked, pulling the sides of her shirt into the cleavage of her breasts, revealing her tits.
“Do you promise just to look and not touch?”
“Yes, yes I do.”
“Fine. Now stay still.”
“It’s like a dream come true,” I said.
“You’ve always wanted Luige to wear his t-shirt like this?”
Lo, A Little Side-Boob
“No! Never mind.”
She continued cutting away and then trimmed up my beard and finally said, “Voilà!”
I stood up and looked in the mirror. It didn’t look half bad.
I hopped in the shower to get all the clippings off of me and, within moments, she slipped in next to me.
“Luige never did this either,” I said.
“I should hope not.”
When all the hair had washed from our bodies, she got down on her knees and, looking up at me, said, “Did you like how I cut your hair, Daddy?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What would you think if I opened up a shop and cut everyone’s hair like that?”
“In your panties and a tank top? Or giving everyone the same hair style as you gave me?”
She laughed. “So you admit, I’ve got style?”
“The finest style, class, tits, and ass. In fact, that could be the motto of your salon.”
She opened up her mouth and put out her tongue a little. “Don’t I get a tip, Daddy?”
I rested the tip of my cock in her mouth. She took the whole rod.
“Greedy, aren’t you?”
“It’s today’s special: a haircut and a happy ending.”
Lo takes the tip
Sexercise
“Fuck! I hope that never happens again!” she blurted out as she entered the house.
I had been quietly sitting on the couch, perched in my usual spot, writing, when she burst in with a flare for the dramatic.
“What happened?” I inquired, merely raising an eyebrow.
“Get in the bedroom and I’ll tell you.”
That can only mean one thing.
I saved my work, closed my laptop, and followed her to the bedroom. By the time I got there she was already naked, her legs spread wide, her right hand slapping her pussy with a small splash.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked impatiently.
“I came as fast as I could,” I said as I began removing my clothes.
“Well, don’t cum as fast as you can now if you want to hear what I have to tell you.”
I slid into her already lubricated puss and she let out a gasp of relief.
“Am I wet, Daddy?” she asked.
“A juice box,” I said. “What is going on?”
She didn’t speak immediately. She was enjoying the ride. Her hands had moved to her sides and she was pulling her ass cheeks, spreading herself as wide as she could go.
“Can you feel me?” she asked.
“Almost not at all. Like fucking a bathtub full of warm water.”
That was enough to bring her to a mild squirting orgasm as her puss gently gurgled, soaking me, the bed, and her ass.
“Harder, Daddy. Faster.”
“If you tell me what’s going on, I’ll fuck you like a jackhammer.”
I sped up my rhythm and increased my force.
“That’s it,” she said, her eyes shut. “I’m so wet. So fucking wet.”
“I can tell,” I said, “but not for me I bet.”
“I was at the gym,” she began, as the scene played out before her shut eyes, “in my grey yoga pants.” She paused.
“Yes,” I said, bringing her back to the here-and-now.
“And I was on the adductor machine, working on my inner thighs when I noticed the guy in front of me. He was doing pull ups directly in my line of sight. Unconsciously I was watching his body go up and down while I was working my legs. Then I noticed that I was watching him – his bulging biceps, the ripples of his shoulders, his broad chest. His shirt was short, so I could see his abs, and then I looked a little lower and saw just how huge his cock was. Every time he went up and down, I was spreading and then clenching my legs together. I became self-conscious of what I was doing and looked up to see if he noticed me. Our eyes met for a moment and then. . .”
She climaxed again; this time much harder than before.
When she regained her composure, I asked, “And then what happened.”
“Daddy, it’s too embarrassing!”
“What?”
“As I was spreading my legs, completely involuntarily and without warning I. . .” she trailed off.
“You what?”
“I came. I squirted. I felt myself drenching my yoga pants until they were dripping. And he saw it all! I immediately closed my legs together and pretended to take a sip from my water bottle and somehow made it look like I had spilled it on my lap. I ran out of there as fast as I could! Oh my God! I can never go back there again!!!”
As she told me this, I had slowed and almost stopped thrusting, I was so engrossed in her story. But then she rebuked me. “Don’t stop. Come on. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me up.”
“Lo,” I said apologetically, “I can’t even feel you, you’re so wet.”
“Forget it!” she commanded, angry at me.
She pulled away so I slid out of her. She reached under the bed, grabbed her horse-cock dildo and said, “You can watch, if you want, but I need something that’s going to really fill me up.”
She stuck it to the headboard of the bed and backed into it as I was on my knees in front of her, stroking my cock.
“Are you thinking of him?” I asked as she thrusted back into the cock vigorously with her eyes closed.
“Yes,” she said honestly.
“You think he’d fill you like that?”
“Yes,” she said.
I could see that I may have been distracting her from whatever fantasy was playing out in her mind, so I continued with my masturbatory movements in silence as I watched her tits hang down and rock back and forth, thinking about what that guy must have thought of her in the gym. Suddenly I came, shooting my pent-up love all over her face. It was a surprise to her because her eyes were still shut. When she realized what I had done, it sent her into a violent hysterical paroxysm, the likes of which I had not seen in a very long time.
Her arms spread forward and her body bowed down making a “Downward Dog” movement as her cunt clenched the long, thick cock behind her.
When she regained consciousness, she said, “Maybe I’m just not made for city life. Maybe I’m meant to keep in shape by working on the farm.”
The Many Moods of Monday Morning
Monday morning. 4 am. Lo wakes me up by fucking herself with her glass dildo and Hitachi Magic Wand. “Must you do that now?” I ask, irritated.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to do it if you’d fuck me at night, but you just went to sleep after getting in bed – like sleep is what the bed is made for!”
“Don’t blame your nymphomania on me. You’re like Buzz Lightyear over there, masturbating to infinity and beyond!”
“Yeah, well, from the looks of things, you’re like Woody over there. What’s that popping up under the covers?”
It’s true, I often wake up with a raging hard-on.
“I had crazy sex dreams all night,” she says, more sweetly.
“Really?” I ask from my own dreamlike state. “Tell me about them.”
She tells me about how she dreamed about sex with a guy from work. “I told him I want him to be with me in the biblical sense.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“What’s not?”
“To ‘be’ together in the biblical sense. The saying is, ‘to know one another in the biblical sense.’”
“Well, I want to be together with him – in an existential sense.”
“Why do you think you were dreaming that?”
“Because you were groping me all night.”
“That’s impossible. I slept like I was hit by a bus.”
“Well, groping while sleeping is one of your natural talents.”
“I have many natural and unnatural talents.”
“What are you going to do with that?” she asks, looking down at my rock-hard shaft.
“I’m going to suffer with it. It’s my half-a-cross to bear.”
“Well, don’t get any ideas, I’m getting up,” she says as she pulls out her dildo and rests it on her nightstand.
“So am I,” I say, removing the covers, looking down at my phallus standing at attention.
A good erection is not to be wasted, I suppose, so instead of getting out of bed, she climbs up on my morning wood and eases herself down onto it.
When I don’t meet her descending motion with a thrust upward, she asks, “What’s the matter?”
“You’re using me,” I respond.
“Only for your body.”
“Oh, well, in that case then it’s ok.”
Within seconds she is gushing all over my hips. She climbs off my body and collapses into the bed, eyes closed.
“Are you sleeping?” I ask, incredulously.
“Shhhhh,” is all she manages to respond as she drifts off back to dreamland leaving me hard-up at 4:10 in the a.m.
There’s no going back to sleep for me and I look at her peaceful face.
“Just jack it like any other guy would,” she mutters.
I get out of bed and do what I always do with my sexual energy – channel it into a good story.
A couple of hours later my phone buzzes. “Come,” she texts from the bedroom.
I follow her command.
As I enter the bedroom, I find her naked, legs spread, fingers caressing between her glistening pussy lips. I sit down gingerly beside her. She looks up at me. Her hair is a mess.
“What time did you come to bed?” she asks.
“When?”
“Whenever you came to bed.”
Not knowing if she was speaking about last night or this morning, I reply, “Just now.”
“Did I give you a handjob?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Why?” I ask, curious.
“I had a dream that I did.”
Her left hand is already fondling my hard cock over my pj bottoms.
“Take it out,” she commands.
I take it out for her to hold. “Do you want to make your dream come true?” I ask.
She doesn’t bother to answer. She is already stroking it with her left hand and stroking herself with her right. Her eyes are closed as if continuing her dream. Within mere moments she cums again, and falls back to sleep, leaving me hard-up for a second time.
I hop in the shower and then get dressed for work figuring that it’s just not my morning.
A few minutes after I leave the bedroom to have a cup of coffee, Lola walks into the kitchen. I can tell just by her footfall that she’s upset. Without a “hello” or “good morning,” she launches into a tirade.
“I’m so pissed,” she says.
“Why?”
“I just am. My computer sucks, my schedule sucks, everything just sucks.”
“Do you want to go fuck it out?” I ask, hoping that I might finally release the tension between my legs.
“I thought you’d never ask!”
We return to the bedroom to have sex. I slip out of my pants, but leave on my shirt. I’m still horny from not cumming earlier in the morning and I figure this will be quick and fun. But this time, she isn’t reaching orgasm like she did earlier. She takes out her Hitachi and puts it on her clit and it vibrates between our bodies. After only a few minutes she switches it off and stops her motions. “It’s not working. I think I’m broken.”
“What?”
“I’m not cumming. I think I’m broken.”
“Lo, you had at least two or three orgasms already this morning!”
“Orgasms are like football, it doesn’t matter if you won your last ten games, the only game that matters is this one.”
“You don’t even like football.”
“So? It still holds true.”
“You’re just thinking about all you have to do today.”
“Yeah, but I always cum.”
I get up.
“Where are you going?”
“To make breakfast. Do you want some?’
“No. I’m going to keep trying ʼtil I cum. Everyone has to have goals.”
Two minutes later she’s walking naked into the kitchen.
“That was fast.”
“And how! What’s for breakfast?”
After breakfast I say, “Well, Darlin’, I have to go to work.”
“You’re not wearing any pants!”
“It’s underwear Wednesday.”
“It’s not Wednesday, it’s Monday,” she corrects me.
“I plan my outfits ahead of time.”
“And don’t you mean Wonderwear Wednsday, as in, I wonder where my pants are?”
“Yeah.”
I go to the bedroom and put on my pants. She follows me.
“You can’t go out in those pants!” she gasps.
“I could take them off, but I’d catch a breeze.”
“No no no. I mean, I can see every line and curve of your cock clear as day through those.”
“Well, that never stopped you from wearing your yoga pants in public, now did it?”
“What are you talking about?” she asks defensively.
“As if you were unaware of your camel-toe.”
“Phhh,” she says, dismissively while staring at my crotch. “That thing is huge in there! Sheesh, you’ll scare your secretary.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of, or are you afraid she’ll get the same look in her eye that you have now?”
“Shut up. You cannot go to work like that. It’s bad enough that you have a young female secretary. Now pull it out.”
“But Lo, I have only like three minutes to get going!”
She gets on her knees and unzips my fly, pulling out my cock. But she also continues her rant. “I’m just doing a public service. If you go to work like this, then you’re just contributing to the misogynistic, patriarchal, intersectional systems of oppression.”
“Wow, that’s a mouthful.”
“You’re also a mouthful,” she says as she goes down on me.
“Are you doing a public service or do you wish to service the public?”
She pauses in her fellatio and looks to say, “Please don’t make bad puns while I have your cock in my mouth.”
With merely the gentle touch of her lips on the tip of my cock and the beautiful view of her on her knees, I finally cum. So quick, so unexpected, and so much that it spews all over her face, neck, and tits. She looks up at me and says in astonishment, “That was a hot surprise!”
“Sounds like a special in a restaurant.”
“It’s a plate best served horny.”
“So,” I ask, “what do you want to do with the remaining two and a half minutes I have?”
Suddenly she notices something and looks up at me with a scowl. “You came all over my hair! How did you do that?”
“That’s one of my natural talents.”
“And you came in like five seconds.”
“That’s one of my unnatural talents.”
“Did you like it?” she asks.
“I loved it,” I say, “but I’m so sleepy now.”
“Yeah, because you were groping me all night.”
“Impossible! I slept like a rock.”
“You said you slept like you were hit by a bus.”
“Like a rock that was hit by a bus.”
“Where are you going all dressed up?” she asks after I zip up.
“I have a date.”
“With whom?”
“With destiny.”
“Who is she, I’ll tear her apart!”
“She’s a fickle woman who always gets her way.”
A few moments later, Lola appears in the living room, miraculously all dressed and ready to go to work. She’s wearing a pearl necklace.
“That’s pretty I say.”
“This?” she asks, holding the necklace. “It’s my second pearl necklace of the day!”
“Very funny,” I say.
She leans in to kiss me goodbye before we both leave. “You’ll be home at 11:00 to fuck?” I ask.
“Yeah. Will you be here?”
“Let me check my schedule to see if you can fit me in,” I reply.
“Darling, I could fit way more than you in.”
“Then I’ll bring a few friends.”
“Just be here at eleven. I’ll supply the extras.”
[Art by JoKoss)
Fuck Noir
It was one of those weeks when I was feeling low rather than feeling Lo. A depression had settled in and, too depressed to do anything, I felt like trying to shake it was as futile as anything else I had tried to do in my life. Dark thoughts.
Lo had been trying to seduce me all week. “Fuck it out,” she’d say, “you’ll feel better after.”
“Lo,” I’d reply, “you know that depleting my Chi energy through ejaculation is a certain method for moving my mood from the ground floor into the basement.”
“Well, then just don’t cum. I’ll cum enough for the both of us!”
Though I found her determination amusing, it did little more than evoke a wry smile from my lips.
As a direct result of my lack of amorous affection for her, Lo felt no desire to keep herself primed and ready for a good romp – with me or anyone – and she let her hair-down-there grow out.
Coming to bed one night, I saw her lying naked over the covers. “Wow,” I remarked, unaware of the words escaping my mouth, “you’re looking very 1970’s!”
She immediately pulled the blanket up and over herself, saying, “I suddenly feel a cold draft.”
I can be cruel when in the throes of depression and so I responded with, “You shouldn’t be cold, you have a warm fleece.”
I climbed into bed and opened a book. Beginning to read next to her, she turned to me and said, “With that facial hair you look like a movie villain.”
“You know, don’t you, that the villain of every story is the hero of his own story?”
“Yeah, well you’re the villain – even in your own story.”
“I can live with that. You know that Milton’s great dilemma when writing Paradise Lost was that he had drawn the Devil in such a villainous way that he became the most compelling and interesting character. God didn’t have a chance when the Devil was on stage.”
“Really? Milton? Really? You are the most literary narcissist I ever did meet!”
“I take that as a compliment,” I said to her.
She reached over, more lovingly this time, and she said, “Daddy, you really do need to trim your beard.” She rubbed my rough beard with her hand and tugged a little on it.
“When did you masturbate?” I asked.
She looked guilty and then said, “A little while ago.”
“When?”
“Just before you came into the bedroom. How did you know?”
“I can smell you on your fingertips.”
“Well,” she replied, “if you’re not going to finger me, then someone has to.” As she said this, she moved her hand down to my crotch.
Never one to miss a moment to spoil the mood when my mood is foul, I called out, “Why are your hands so cold?! Were you giving the Ice Man a handjob before he cometh?”
She wrapped her legs around my bare legs and I felt her feet on my feet. I followed my first question with another, “A foot job too?”
“The Ice Man has a warmer heart (and bigger dick) than you!” she said, rolling away from me and grabbing her phone.
I fell asleep to the tap-tap-tap of her texting with someone.
The next day was Saturday and it was a beautiful spring day. Lo was up and about and I was lying on the couch in the living room. Lola approached me like a puppy and said, “Come outside with me!”
“No.”
“Yes. It’s so bright out there.”
“But it’s so dark in here.”
“Look,” she said, opening the blinds, “it’s the first beautiful day of spring! Let’s get out and enjoy it!” She proceeded to open all of the blinds and the windows to let the warm breeze flow through the room.
Like a vampire mortally injured by the light, I got up to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Are you going to come in the bedroom? – Because I’m going to take a nap.”
“I’ll probably cum several times. . . anywhere.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I said, as I went to the bedroom and locked the door. She followed and was nonplused at finding the door locked.
“Let me come in!”
“No, no! Go, go!”
“I’ll come in, you’ll cum in. It will be even!”
“No.”
“Then at least come out. Look, to get out of this depression you need to do something.”
“Well, I’m not doing you.”
“That was my first suggestion, but I’ll settle for going for a walk or to the gym. Physical activity will help.”
I unlocked the door. She entered the bedroom. “Fine,” I said.
Getting ready for the gym, I put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt.
“You’re not really going to wear that, are you?” she asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“You look like a senior-citizen mall-walker.”
“And? I’m just going to the gym, not a cocktail party.”
“And won’t you be hot? Aren’t you going to break a sweat in that?”
“Oh, gosh, I certainly hope not!”
She was naked and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” she asked seductively, spreading her legs and putting her hand between them, using her fingers to spread her pussy lips.
“No.”
“Don’t you want it, Daddy?”
“No.”
“But I want you. I can see the outline of your big, thick dick in those sweatpants.”
“Lo, what are you going to wear to the gym?”
“Come here and I’ll tell you.”
“No.”
“Please.”
I gave in and walked over to her, convinced she wouldn’t succeed in her seduction. As soon as I was between her legs, her knees clamped on my legs, capturing me and holding me tightly.
“Lo, you’re a human Penis Flytrap!”
“I think you must have Adult ADD. One of the symptoms is relentless bad puns.”
“You’re saying I have AADD?”
“If you want to put it that way.”
“Sounds like my report card from high school.”
“You see, perfect example!”
“I heard once that among entrepreneurs there is an inordinate proportion of people with Adult ADD. I heard that those entrepreneurs are good at multitasking and that they surround themselves with lots of competent people who stay on task. That’s what I do. I’m a captain and I have a lot of first mates.”
“Oh really?”
“Well,” I said more kindly, “my dear, you’re my first first mate.”
“I’m my own captain. I’m no one’s first mate,” she said, putting her thumb to her sternum, pointing to herself proudly.
“Captain, eh?”
“That’s right, and I like to be surrounded by lots of semen.”
“And you say I have bad puns.”
“Give me some semen, Daddy, please,” she asked, pulling my cock out from my sweatpants and putting it in her mouth, to no avail. Having failed in her attempt, she then got on the bed on all fours, flaunting her ass in front of me. “What do you think?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.
“Booty-full,” I said.
“Punny,” she said sardonically.
“Honestly, Lo,” I said, “I wish that I felt well enough to put my penis in your vagina.”
“Daddy!” she exclaimed, feigning shock.
“I’m sorry dear, I couldn’t think of a more poetic way of phrasing that.”
“That’s ok. I like the direct route.”
“Are we going to the gym or what?”
“Yes,” she said, “because if we’re going to go to a nude beach this year, then we have to get in shape.”
“We?” I asked.
“Yes, we. Us.”
“I’m in a shape. In fact, I think I look flabulous.”
“Flabulous?”
“Yeah. I might not have abs. I might have flabs, but they look flabulous.”
“Well, then,” she said, “at least I feel like I have to get in shape. I think I gained four pounds this winter. Does it show?”
“Lo, you know that I would be happy if you gained forty pounds!”
“That’s nice of you to say but. . .”
“You know, there’s a kink out there called feederism, or something like that, where gaining weight is considered sexually arousing?”
“So, I have to get fat in order to get you up?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying all bodies are beautiful bodies.”
She rolled over on her tum and asked, “All?”
“Well, dear,” I corrected myself, “yours most of all.”
“That’s more like it.”
On the way to the gym, I remarked to her, “I was listening to Billy Joel the other day. Some of his lyrics are just brilliant.”
“Like, ‘I heard about sex but not enough’?”
“Of all his lyrics, that’s the one lyric that you remember?”
“It speaks to me.”
“Well, I was thinking about the song, ‘I Go to Extremes.’”
“What about it?”
“It speaks to me.”
When we got to the gym, Lo wanted to start in the weight room. Our gym is co-ed, obviously, and in the weight room there are lots of big, burly men who love to look at themselves in the full-length mirrors that surround the room on all the walls. Lots of mirrors. There are, of course, some women who, truth be told, also like to look at themselves in the mirrors. They just don’t make as big a show of it as the guys do.
Lo likes looking at everybody, including herself, and, this particular morning, I found out in the worst of ways, she liked to be looked at as well. She went right for the bench press and, asking me to spot her, she got on her back under the bar, her feet flat on the floor, her legs spread, and she asked with great deference, for my advice on lifting the twenty pounds (plus the weight of the bar, of course).
I gave her a few pointers and then stood behind her head, my hands cupped under the bar just in case she needed a little boost. She looked up from the bench where her head was perched perfectly between my legs. Had we been alone at home, she would have had a perfect angle for some fun play. Her tongue ran across her sparkling white teeth and she mouthed the words, “Oh, Daddy!” as her eyes roamed to my crotch.
I rolled my eyes, but soon saw that some of the guys in the gym were stealing glances our way. “Lo, try to get it up, will you?” I honestly didn’t mean to say that. I was talking about the bar, but it just came out that way.
“I’ve been trying all week,” she said. “I think that with this good, hard, steel rod, I can make some progress.” She went to lift the bar and lower it to her chest. With a controlled exhale, she pushed the bar back up. “That was good, right?!” She was very excited by her accomplishment.
“Excellent!” I said, trying to be encouraging. I looked up and noticed more guys’ eyes looking at her. Was it that her legs were spread? Was it that her face was down by my crotch? Was it her breasts heaving as she lay flat on the bench? I couldn’t tell what the interest was, but across the room the guys doing curls with free-weights, causing their already large biceps to bulge, were looking right at Lo. It seemed like she was giving them inspiration.
After bench pressing, we did a few other strength exercises and we didn’t exact quite as much attention. She told me that at the top of the hour a yoga class was starting and she encouraged me to join her in it. “Yoga will be good for you. It’s known to reduce depression.” Reluctantly, I agreed.
In the yoga studio, the mats were arranged in five rows of four deep. People gradually entered and chose their spots and began stretching out. Lola took the front-center mat in the room and told me to take the spot behind her. I did so. I tried stretching. Touching my toes was a challenge. When the room was full, the instructor came in and she stood right in front of Lo. We began easily enough and all was fine, until “Downward Dog.” That’s when I figured out what the guys in the gym were looking at – Lo wasn’t wearing any panties! Here little green yoga shorts were loose-fitting enough for her pussy to peek out when doing the bench press and now at yoga. She looked over her shoulder at me when she came out of the pose and she knew that I knew what a bad girl she was. Needless to say, part of my body was not as limber as it should be for yoga after that. I think that I wasn’t the only one to notice my little slut’s slutty ways. I played it off like I wasn’t with Lo. Who? Her? That one in the front row showing her joie de vivre to the class? Nope, don’t know her at all. I’m just right behind her for the best view.
When the hour was over, Lo made it clear to the class that I was her man and she was my hotwife by grabbing my arm and congratulating me on getting through the entire class. She looked down at the protrusion in my sweatpants and said, “I think you need to walk that off.”
I gave her a deriding look.
All the way home, she walked in front of me wiggling her little ass.
When we got home she said, “I’m so wet from working out.”
“I bet you are,” I replied.
“I’m going to take a shower. Care to join?”
“No. I’ll take one later.”
“Fine,” she said in a huff, “I was going to masturbate in there anyhow.”
“I figured.”
She was in there almost an hour. When she was done, she walked stark naked into the kitchen and began slicing a tomato.
Hearing her futzing about, I came into the kitchen and asked, “Did you take a shower?”
“Yes.”
“Did you jill it?”
“No. I made myself smooth.” She turned from the counter toward me and displayed her silky white skin of her mons pubis to me.
“Then why aren’t you bent over the bed?”
“Because I’m making you dinner.”
“Can’t I have an appetizer first?”
“Oh, now you want it? What happened to your depression?”
“I’m just asking for a small taste to whet my appetite.”
“Just a taste?” she asked, incredulously.
“Yes. April is abstinence month.”
“Really? Since when?”
“I just proclaimed it such.”
“Well, this month sure won’t last long.”
“I’m telling you Lo, it’s Celibate City for me.”
“Forget it, Daddio, it’s Vaginatown.”