Category Archives: amateur
Protected: A Few Tricks, A Little Treat – Andrew and Jane at it Again!
Protected: “Paint me like one of your slutty girls.”
A Chance Encounter with a Unicorn
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[Guest Post by Lola’s new friends – SnowCplCo]
SnowCpleCo
We were driving across the country for the holidays and, as dusk was descending and T was growing tired, we pulled into the first motel on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere that we found. I was walking the two dogs, who were eager to get out after so long in the back seat, while hubby was unloading bags. The dogs suddenly stopped and directed my attention toward an attractive brunette walking in a short black dress and turquoise heels. Mysteriously, the dogs were as captivated by her as I was. This petite, yet confident “girl next door” walked up to me and asked if it was ok to pet the dogs. Though they were stir-crazy from the drive, they are friendly and I said that they’d love it. She leaned over to pet them and I could see right down the open neckline of her dress. She had nice tits. No bra. Young. Perky. I was getting wet as I stood there, gawking at her. I tried making small talk. She crouched down to continue petting the dogs, as I stood over her. It was impossible to not see down her dress from that angle.
As we were chatting, she saw hubby grab a bottle of bubbly and bourbon from the car. She said “Oh, I’m so ready for glass of wine after driving all day.”
I responded, “Wine time never comes quick enough on road trips.” We kept talking for a bit and she asked if we would mind if she joined us for a glass because she hadn’t talked to anyone all day. I said, “Sure, but it has to be in our room due to the dogs.”
She was game and we made our introductions. She introduced herself as Lola. We agreed to meet about an hour later. I told hubby when I got back to the room and he said, “There goes our playtime then.” He had been horny and wanting me the entire drive.
I responded with, “She’s not going to be here all night. We’ll still get to play. Promise.”
Lola came over and we sat around the small room and chatted with the conversation going all over the place. A few glasses into it, she said that she better get back to her room. It was clear she was merely being polite. To my surprise and arousing a bit of jealousy that I didn’t even know I had, hubby asked her to stay for one more glass. She agreed, but said, “Before I have any more, I have a little work to do. Do you mind if I go grab my laptop?”
“Not at all,” said T.
A minute later she popped back into our room and sat at the tiny desk.
“What kinda work are you doing?” asked T.
“Just updating our blog.”
Hubby, trying desperately to turn the friendly chatter into a sexy seduction, said in a joking way, “What, like your OnlyFans page?”
She looked over at him, smirking, and said “Something like that.”
Hubby said back to Lola, “I bet a pretty, young, flirtatious girl like you makes a thousand dollars a day on the internet.”
“Hardly,” laughed Lola. “I do it just for fun, actually.”
“Wait,” I said, “you mean he’s right?! You do have an OnlyFans page?”
Lo laughed even more and said, “Well, no, not OnlyFans. Just a sex blog that my man and I run.”
“Oh!” said hubby, “I can’t believe it! I’ve been waiting all day to get to work on content with her for ours page!”
Lola looked very surprised and said “Really! You two don’t seem like the type!”
“I could say the same about you,” I said.
We talked a little more about it before I suggested, “I’ll show you my page if you show me yours?”
That was all it took for T. He had his laptop out so quick! We looked at each other’s pages and hers was incredible! We go by Snow CoupleCO and she seemed to like what she saw of us too. I then asked if she wanted help making content and winked at hubby. She paused a bit and looked at us. “Really?”
“Yeah, it could be fun.”
“OK, but no photos.” She was concerned about remaining anonymous.
“Deal.”
“I’m going to freshen up,” she said, “It’s been a long drive today.”
“OK. See you back here soon.” I felt butterflies in my stomach, I was so excited. While she was out showering and, I think, shaving herself smooth, I took a quick shower as well. When I came out, I found hubby jacking off to Lo’s photos. I snapped a couple of pics but told him, “Keep it hard, Mr. Roadtrip McLovin!”
Mr. T – Roadtrip McLovin
When Lola came back, gone was the girl next door and here stood a pro porn star! You would never recognize her. “You really are ‘the nympho next door!’” I said.
Lo was wearing a sheer white top that reminded me of boudoir wedding photos I had seen once. But adorning her neck was a black leather collar, like a dog’s collar, that said “SLUT” in diamond studs. She wore a short black skirt that barely covered the bottom of her ass and black leather boots to match.
Lo Looking Like a Slutty Bride
“Before we get to playing, there’s a dive bar attached to this rundown motel. How about the three of us go in there and see what happens?”
I was very game, but I had a better idea in mind.
“I just caught my husband masturbating to your photos,” I said. A sparkle of vanity flashed in Lo’s eyes as she looked first at my hubby’s face and then at his crotch. “He must be hard-up for you,” I continued. Lo’s tongue ran across her teeth as she looked desirously at him. “Do you think you could help him out before we go there?”
“Help him out, how?” she asked.
“Get on your knees,” I commanded.
She obeyed immediately. I reached over and pulled out T’s bulging hard cock from his pants. I held it in my hand. “There you go, hun,” I said to him. “Do it. Cum on her face.”
He took control of his cock and stroked fast. He looked at me, looked at Lo longing for his dick in her mouth. He looked at me again. He looked down at Lo and came on her face. It was the fastest I’ve seen him cum in ages!
Lo’s cheeks and chin were dripping with his cum. I had to hold the dogs back to keep them from licking her clean.
“OK, now we can go.”
“You want me to go like this?”
“Exactly.”
“OK, but let’s make it more interesting. My man and I play a little game like this a lot. You walk in first. Then I’ll walk in and join you. T walks in last and has to sit away from us. Let’s see who has the courage to pick us up.”
I was giddy with excitement.
We walked down the motel line to the bar at the end. It was a sleepy little bar in the middle of nowhere that mostly accommodated travelers and lonely locals.
Lo walked in first looking like a used prostitute. I followed, looking like a lonely housewife desperate for action. I wore my tight jeans shorts, cowboy boots, and a blouse unbuttoned nearly to my navel. No bra.
The few folks inside noticed our appearance right away. I ordered a beer across the bar from Lola, who had ordered some sort of cocktail.
I then made my way over to her and pretended like we were meeting for the first time – which we had, only about two hours earlier.
A couple of middle-aged guys approached us and I noticed my husband walk into the bar. No one else, except maybe Lola, noticed him.
Both the guys who were talking to us had wedding bands on.
Eventually, in the dimness of the bar, one of the guys noticed the sheen on Lo’s face from my husband’s cum.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Beauty cream,” she said with a smile.
I leaned in and licked it, seductively, off of her face before making out with her.
The two guys were excited beyond belief. I reached back with one hand and grabbed the cock of the guy sitting next to me.
Suddenly the grumpy old bartender told us to take it outside. This wasn’t a brothel!
“You want to join us?” I asked the men.
They sure did!
Lo and I walked with them back to the room and the four of us went in.
It was really crowded in there now with the two dogs.
Lo and I stripped each other and started making out on the bed as the guys watched.
“Aren’t you going to join us?” asked Lo in a little girl sort of voice.
They guys began taking their clothes off, embarrassed to be seeing each other naked.
Just as they were about to approach us on the bed, T barged into the room and, in a performance worthy of an Oscar, he yelled, “What the hell are you doing?!”
The guys were shocked and quickly scrambled to put on their clothes. In their haste, I think they might have even put on the other’s clothes by accident.
They got out of the room quick and we all had a laugh.
Lo began to work my clit ring and lips while sliding her tongue in and out. I then felt her fingers entering me. She had the perfect rhythm and I really began getting wet, feeling my juices drip down my ass. Lola raised up my hips, smiled, and slid a finger in my ass. I moaned, looking over at hubby, who now had his cock in his hand. He was moderately hard, since he had cum so recently. I grabbed Lo’s hips and slid her up to my face. Instantly, she began grinding on my tongue.
We played pretty hard for a while before she whispered, “Can we invite your hubby?” Of course, I wasn’t going to say no. So she lifted up her her face and, dripping with my cum now, told him, “Take the rest of your clothes off and get over here.” We both went down on him while he was trying to keep the dogs off of us. We took turns playing with him as he went from my ass to Lola’s mouth and back again and again. Eventually, when Lola convinced me to do the same, he came, shooting a huge load in her ass before I cleaned him off with my mouth. He poured us drinks and we laid on the bed with her in the middle petting each other.
Lo stood up and cum dripped down her inner thigh onto the cheap motel room carpeting. She grabbed a glass of the bubbly to quench her thirst and picked up her clothes.
“I’ll let you two get some good sleep tonight. Thanks for a fun time,” she said as she walked out into the parking lot stark naked. We watched her saunter to her room and disappear inside.
I’m not sure if I was dreaming or not, but a few hours later I woke to the blood curdling sounds of what sounded like a murder, but, after close listening for a few moments, I realized, it was Lo’s screaming orgasm.
The next morning she continued on the road east as we continued west. When we got home, first thing we did was order a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark. We now get off to it nightly, fondly remembering our time with Lola Down – just your average nympho next door.
Snow getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
an extra bonus Christmas gift from Snow
Shopgirl Assistance
Panties Panties Panties
“Excuse me, but could you please help me with this?” he asked.
“Sure, what is it you’re looking for?” replied the young, cute women’s clothing shop salesgirl.
“I’m trying to find the right size miniskirt.”
“Oh, for your girlfriend?” she asked, not seeing a wedding band on his ring finger. “What’s her size?”
“Well, that’s just the problem.”
“You don’t know her size,” she said, holding up a couple of skirts.
“No.”
“That’s ok, it happens all the time. Do you think her waist is wider or narrower than mine?” she asked, twirling and trying to be helpful. He was stunningly handsome and had a ‘V’ shaped physique. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, bulging biceps. He wore a tight t-shirt that hid very little of his rock-solid pecks. His jeans were loose-fitting, but she could see he was packing something large in them. She immediately wanted to be as accommodating as possible and she was grateful to show off her own feminine form for him to compare her with his girlfriend.
“No, I don’t think you understand,” he said. “It’s not for my girlfriend.”
“Oh?”
“It’s for me.”
“For you?”
“Yes. And these are only in women’s sizes, understandably.”
She chuckled and asked, “Are you getting ready for Halloween?” It was only August.
“No,” he said, secretly delighting in the bombshell he was about to drop. He had never done this before. He was nervous about her reaction. But he also had been looking forward to this moment, vividly imagining it in all its detail, and spending lots of time choosing just the right sales assistant for the job. He didn’t even know it before Lola, but it had become his particular kink. “I’m a cross-dresser,” he said nervously, the blood rushing to his flush face. “I’m looking for a skirt for me. And maybe some panties, a garter, and maybe a nice choker.” He said it all very fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid.
She was young. Inexperienced. Innocent. Naive. She couldn’t conceal the surprised look on her face. That’s exactly what he was hoping for. But he also was wracked with fear that she would laugh, or worse, call security. His heart was thumping in his chest. He could hear the blood beating like a drum in his neck and ears.
Now for stage two.
“Well, uh, what is your size?” She asked foolishly. But then she corrected herself. “No, you know what, here, I’ll just measure you.” She played it off as if she had had many customers with the same request. In fact, she had never even fathomed an encounter like this. But something about it – probably his amazingly good looks and his disarmingly polite, even shy demeanor – made her feel at ease and willing to help.
She wrapped a measuring tape around his hips. She liked getting her face close to his abs. She didn’t linger too long. She did some quick calculations. “What style were you interested in?”
He pulled up a couple of very skimpy skirts, barely six inches in length. “Something like this.” They were pink. One had a plaid pattern on it.
“OK,” she said, trying to be cool. These were sexy outfits. She felt a twitch between her legs. “Let’s get you something in your size and get you in the fitting room.”
“Will you help me pick it out? I’m new at this.”
She laughed flirtatiously. He was at least five, maybe seven years older than she. “Of course I will. That’s my job.”
They picked out a few items and then they walked to the fitting room together. She had to tell the other shopgirl that it was ok. They often had men waiting for their wives and girlfriends outside the fitting room, but never one go inside, to try on something like this!
She followed him in. He took the items. He tried them on. When he found one that he thought fit, he opened the door to let her see.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She looked, mouth wide open, as she saw him in a pink frilled mini-skirt, his giant cock bulging out from the bottom, supported and veiled by tight white lace panties. He was bare-chested. She had never seen such an Adonis as this perfect man!
How do I look?
“Um, is that the look you’re going for?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, uh, well, you’re not exactly covered.”
“I like that.”
“Then I think it looks fabulous!”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“I have a few more to try on.”
He shut the door. Now her face was flush. Her heartbeat was thumping in her chest.
A few moments later, he opened the door and asked again, “What do you think?”
This time he was wearing a pink plaid mini-skirt and white lace stockings held up by a garter belt. The tip of his uncut cock protruded a good two inches below the hemline.
What do you think?
She looked at him, speechless.
“Oh. My. God.”
“What?” he asked.
“Um, I’m sorry, uh.” She fumbled. She had never, ever seen anything like this.
They spent the better part of an hour trying on different items. Her imagination went wild as she dressed him up in tight panties, stockings, even a bra. She loved touching his rock-hard flesh.
She had orgasms before, but never had she had a hands-free, contact-free orgasm. This one happened merely as a result of being in his presence. She creamed her panties and she knew she’d have to leave work early.
Before her assistance was over, she asked, “Where do you plan on wearing these?”
He pulled out his phone and showed her the wallpaper of the homepage. It was a sexy photo of a beautiful, buxom, brunette. “They’re for my girlfriend, Lola,” he said.
And, indeed, he wasn’t lying. Lola had instructed him to put her photo on his phone and to do everything that you have just read and to tell the shopgirl that Lola was his girlfriend.
Lola Wallpaper
Later that day, he brought all his lingerie home and did a photoshoot for Lola and relayed how he obediently fulfilled her instructions.
“Closet Panties”
The (Not So) Secret Life of Lo the Nympho
Lo’s kungfu Grip
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
That wasn’t Lola firing off those five fucks in a row, that was me. Lo had just used her left hand, filled with moisturizing cream, to get me off in my pajama bottoms. This has become an almost nightly routine for us now. We get into bed – she naked, me in my pajama bottoms – and she says, “Do you want me to milk you Daddy?”
I almost always say yes.
On the rare occasions that I ask her if I can have her, to fuck her, you know, the old-fashioned way of intercourse, she usually just reaches down between my legs and squeezes her cream-filled hand around my hard rod. I am powerless to protest. She strokes to climax – always my climax – and then I fall off to sleep in my cum-filled pjs, too spent to change.
This nightly ritual has spurred me to purchase five or six more pajama bottoms in order that I have something to wear the next night.
What Lo does after my dissipated desire allows me to nod off is a mystery.
But recently I have gained a glimpse into that dark, hidden recess.
After hearing from Ginger and her transformation from housewife to hotwife, Lo became curious about the legalized brothels of Nevada. Apparently, she had been doing internet research on her own late at night.
Fit Ginger Hotwife
Fit Ginger Hotwife
“Daddy,” she said one day over breakfast, “it has been a long time since we went on a vacation.”
“True,” I said, sipping my coffee. “What do you have in mind?” I knew she was up to something nefarious.
“Well,” she began, looking off into the middle distance to conjure her vision like a fey dreamer, “in Nevada prostitution is legal.”
“With certain qualifications,” I said, being a cold, hard realist. Very hard.
Undeterred by my interruption, she continued, “And I’ve looked into it. They have special vacation, well, uh, sort of sex-tourism packages.”
Lola’s eye is always attracted to a big package. “I’m confused,” I said.
“Daddy, they issue a special license for tourists to prostitute themselves.”
“No – really?”
She nodded enthusiastically. Then she looked up at me with those pleading puppy eyes. “Please, Daddy.”
I’ll spare you all the details, but basically there are a lot of costs involved: licensing, STD testing, room rental, etc. It seemed to me very much like a day trip on a recreational fishing boat. There’s the cost of the boat, the fishing license, the taxes, etc. Built into the cost of the day excursion on the boat are all the hidden costs. We had to discover all the overhead ourselves for our sex-tourism jaunt.
Once all that was done, we flew to a remote part of Nevada. Setting up the clientele was easy, given our high-profile web presence. There was no shortage of johns eager for pay-to-play with Lo.
Other than suggesting the idea and knowing what our special vacation was for, Lo had no other insights into the details. She wanted it that way. In order to keep her both figuratively and literally in the dark, I arranged the flight to land at night. We drove through the veiled desert to the remote, rather dilapidated brothel. It looked more like a repurposed old motel. Lo and I found our room and, as she was exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep.
Early the next morning, only a few hours after we had arrived, I woke up to begin preparations for Lo’s stay. As Lo soundly slept in the buff on the king-sized bed, I collected all her clothes – every last garment. I put them in my suitcase and simultaneously unpacked the special outfits I had purchased for her, especially for this occasion. They consisted of thong panties, lace panties, satin bras, elaborate strappy one-piece lingerie, fishnet stockings, and the like. There was not one item of clothing left in the room that she could possibly wear outside. She was trapped by her own undergarments, imprisoned by G-strings and sheer mesh fabric. A fitting metaphor for the Veil of Maya in which we all find ourselves.
I then snuck out of the room with her suitcase. She had no idea, but I had rented the room adjacent to hers. The walls were paper thin, allowing me to be a clandestine interloper in her affairs. About nine that morning I got a text from Lo: “Where are you?”
“I had to go out. Your first appointment is at noon. Enjoy.”
“Out? Where to?”
“Running some errands for your vacation. His name is Peter. Call me if you need anything, I will be close by.”
“Daddy, breakfast,” she wrote, complaining.
“It’s being delivered.”
I had arranged for everything. The room service arrived, finding Lola naked in the hotel room. I suppose that sort of thing was not unusual, given the purpose of the establishment.
I returned to my adjacent room around ten after getting some greasy grits for myself and I heard Lo in her room. It sounded like she was showering and then masturbating. Then, repeat. I texted her, “Turn on the TV.”
I had arranged that I could cast from my computer to her TV. I put on one of her favorite shows: Playboy’s “Swing.”
“Oh, Daddy!” she texted back.
I could hear the muted sounds of the TV from her room.
Around noon her first customer, I mean john, that is to say, Peter came.
And boy did he cum!
I heard muted voices. Then I heard Lo saying, “Fill me! Fuck me! Stretch me! Cum in me!” That last bit was screamed so that it was exquisitely distinct through the wall.
I heard her repeating at the top of her lungs, as if an incantation or mantra: “I love cock! I love cock! I love cock! I love cock!!!”
There were a few moments of quiet and then I heard the door close. A few moments later Lo texted me, “First done and gone.”
“How was it.”
“Well, it’s only 12:20, so, I’d say pretty quick. When’s my next appointment?”
“Not until 1:00.”
“Can you come here, Daddy?”
“No, Lo. I’m out. Running errands.”
She sent a sad-face emoji.
I heard her fire up her Hitachi Magic Wand (which I had strategically left for her to find).
Screams. Silence. Screams.
A knock at the door.
John #2.
This time there was a lot of talk, but no climax. No yelling or screaming.
At exactly two o’clock I heard the door close.
“Two down,” texted Lo.
“How was it?”
“He just wanted me to stroke his cock while I looked into his eyes and talked to him.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Anything that came to mind. He just wanted me to talk. I tried to make sexy talk, but he preferred that I just say anything. I basically told him the history of Elizabethan Theater and the history of Shakespeare plays. That made him very hard and horny.”
“You’re kidding,” I texted back.
“Gotta go! Next customer.”
I heard the knock at the door even before she texted me.
This time she was loud and proud.
After a little less than an hour, I heard the door close.
“So many kinks,” she texted.
“What do you mean?”
“This one just wanted me to masturbate the entire time. You have no idea how tingly my pussy lips are. I had the Hitachi – thanks Daddy! – on my cunt for almost an hour!”
There was another knock at the door.
“Don’t I get a lunch break?!” she texted.
“No rest for the randy,” I texted back.
This time I heard what sounded like her being thrown against the wall in a rhythmic pattern. I was worried. I watched my phone like a hawk. I thought the two of them were going to pound right through the thin wall into my room.
After about twenty or thirty minutes of the constant banging, I heard nothing at all.
Ten minutes later I heard a man’s voice yelling, “Whore! Cunt! Fucking Slut!”
A few minutes later I heard the distinct purr of Lola.
Then the door shut again.
“Are you ok?” I texted her immediately. I was so concerned.
“Divine,” she wrote back.
“Please explain,” I responded, dryly.
“He was rough and violent and he said so many derogatory things to me. . . I loved it!”
“Really?”
There was another knock at the door.
This time, after a while of no sounds, or at least none that I could hear, I detected Lo’s quiet voice saying, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Then it stopped.
At ten to five, I got a text: “I’m starving, Daddy.”
I was too enraged and jealous – yes, jealous! – to respond.
At five sharp, there was another knock at the door.
This time I heard nearly nothing except the loud groan of a man’s voice.
At five-thirty the door shut.
“Well, at least I got a snack,” texted Lo.
“Ready for dinner?” I asked.
“I’m always ready, and hungry, and horny.”
I knocked at her door, even though I had the key. I was curious as to her reaction and I also thought it would be an ironic joke.
She answered the door the way I imagine she answered it for all the six other guys who had preceded me: wearing a black negligée that barely covered her ass and pussy. Nothing else. Her tits were practically falling out of it.
Lo, Dressed for Success
“You’re a welcome surprise,” she said. “I actually thought you had booked me straight through to midnight!”
“Would you like that?”
“I’m a hard worker and I work best when my customers are hard.”
“Well, good news – you and I are going to grab dinner together.”
“First, where? Second, I have no clothes, remember?”
I handed her a sleek black dress. She had panties and bras and high heels in the room already.
She put on the heels, not the bra or panties. She looked dressed more as if in a negligée than a party dress. Her nipples were visible through the thin, shiny material.
She looked good – dirty, dissolute, disheveled, devilish, and desirable.
“Don’t you want me, Daddy?” she asked as she hiked up her dress and spread her pussy lips to show me the cum dripping out. Whose cum? Could have been anyone’s.
“Later, Lo,” I said. “We’ve got reservations.” I almost chuckled to myself as I said it.
“Really?!” she asked, excited as if we were still in our metropolis and able to pick from a few hundred eating establishments.
We walked out into the cool, dry Nevada night.
“No car?” she asked as we walked in the dirt across the parking lot.
“Here we are,” I said after about fifty feet, when we got to the door of the dive bar and restaurant across from the brothel.
“Here?!” she moped.
“Lo, there ain’t another Michelin rated restaurant for at least a hundred miles from here.”
“I don’t need Michelin rated, but I do need edible.”
“Relax, this place is fine.”
“We walked in like two invitees to the Emmy’s, only to find a juke box greeted us, followed by a long, worn wooden bar, and tables with plastic picnic-table cloths covering them, pitchers of Miller Light upon them, and people wearing cowboy hats unironically dancing.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked as all the male eyes in the place magnetically rested upon her sweet, antipodinal angelic aura.
“Couldn’t be any more serious,” I said as the kind hostess showed us to our picnic-table.
We ordered the less-than-mediocre meal and a pitcher of their finest Miller beer.
“Daddy,” Lo inquired, “do I have a busy day tomorrow?”
“All booked up – ten to six.”
“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she said, almost admitting defeat.
“I believe in you, Lo. Did you not enjoy today?”
She was quiet for a few seconds. Pensive. “I enjoyed it well enough.”
“What’s that mean – ‘well enough’?”
“I was hoping to get fucked like a broken screen door in a hurricane. But only one guy was like that. Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “that was wonderful, but the other guys – they were kinda weird, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
The meal came and Lo started eating like she hadn’t seen food in a week, even though the food was far below her standards.
She never completed her thought.
“I have something special planned for you tomorrow,” I said.
Her eyes lit up. “Tell me!” She can’t stand a surprise.
“Nope. You’ll find out tomorrow.”
We finished our meal and ordered another pitcher of beer. We weren’t driving, so, why not?
After downing two pitchers, we felt oddly attracted to the silly country dancing that we had observed among a few of the regulars. We joined in. Lo’s black, strappy heels were a comical contrast to the other women’s cowboy boots. Lo’s sleek black dress also looked out of place among the other women in their jeans or denim shorts and plaid, button-down shirts. But the biggest contrast was that the other women were all at least ten years older and heavier than Lo, by far. They were like ranch hands. It was clear that they were all married and moms. Though the brothel shared a parking lot with this restaurant, it seemed as if the other prostitutes all went home to their husbands and families at the end of their shifts, or they went somewhere else, but they certainly were not grabbing dinner here. I’m not saying any of that in a disparaging way, just pointing out the ways in which Lo stood out like a rosebush among the cacti.
And I wasn’t the only one to notice the difference. The men in the place looked over their wives’ shoulders as they danced with them, staring at Lo. The wives, for their part, gave Lo the meanest of looks, judging her and silently despising her. They knew where she had been all day and where she’d be all night. These good Christian women, with God, guns, and glory on their side, stood in judgment of Lo’s heretical goddess, gams, and gloryhole.
Perhaps mistakenly, we ordered another pitcher of beer to quench the thirst we developed while dancing. Soon Lo was dancing in the arms of many of the different men at the bar, letting them feel her nipples over the sheer material of the dress, slide their hands down over the curve of her rear, and partially up her thigh. I could tell Lo had a long day and was getting too tipsy to tear up the dance floor and so I politely cut in and escorted her back to her room where she had worked the day as an escort.
Samantha Massie reading Match, Cinder & Spark
Country Girls with Samantha Massie
Reverse View of Samantha Massie and friends
Samantha Massie and her besties
Samantha Massie and friends
One more of Samantha Massie’s behind
Back in the room, Lo quickly slipped out of her dress and into a slip, pulled out her Hitachi and her phone and began going at it on the couch as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth. By the time I returned to where she had been stimulating her stretched and sore pussy, I found her, motor of the Hitachi still vibrating, her phone still open to the photos she was using to get off – pics of her friend Samantha Massie and her crew of country MILFs. I had been in the bathroom for maybe three, four minutes max! But by the time I came to the couch beside the bed – the same bed upon which she had prostituted her body – she was sound asleep with her breasts hanging out of her slip.
Lo, Sleeping with her Best Friend
The next morning I woke up early. I snuck out with her dress.
“Daddy, where are you?” she texted.
“Errands,” I responded.
“What could you possibly have to do?”
“I guess not you.”
“What?”
“You fell asleep on me last night, leaving me hard up.”
“Sorry.”
“Should I find a prostitute?”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Can you fit me into your busy schedule?”
“I’m very flexible – I could probably fit you and a couple more guys in.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Time to find out how much more of this I can take. Where’s my breakfast?”
“It should be there any minute now.”
“Well, my john is here now.”
There was another knock at the door.
“Oh, never mind. Breakfast arrived,” she texted.
About twenty minutes and a few howls later, I heard the door close.
“How’s breakfast?” I asked.
“He fucked me as I ate it. He said it was a real turn-on for him.”
“Full, or still hungry?” I texted back.
“I can always take a little more,” she wrote.
I heard the bath running.
I heard a knock at the door.
I heard Lo open it and talk to the customer.
About twenty minutes later I received a text. “He jacked off to me as I took a bath. That was easy!”
There was another knock.
Lo texted, “Daddy, they’re arriving every half hour.”
“That’s your surprise. Today is economy class. They only paid for thirty minutes. Later they will be arriving every fifteen minutes.”
“What?!” She included a number of emojis to demonstrate her displeasure with that.
There were three more visitors to her room before lunch.
“Will you join me for lunch?” she texted.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
I knocked at the door. She opened it wearing only a transparent and skimpy negligée through which I could see everything.
Lo, Falling Out
“You said you could fit me in.”
“That was before you told me my schedule. I’m full up.”
“I hope not. You have ten more appointments today.”
“Ten?!”
I finally walked in the door. Lunch was delivered. A sandwich, fries, and a lemonade. I watched her eat as I observed the room. It was a mess. The bed was a mess and looked well-used. Various undergarments were strewn around the room. Used condoms were hanging over the side of the trashcan and were in it as well.
“How’s work?” I inquired.
She spread her legs for me to see the commingled cum of various men dribble out of her.
“It’s a complicated business,” she said in between bites, “a lotta ins, a lotta outs. You know.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Everything tastes like cum,” she said as she put down her sandwich and took a sip of her drink.
“Your favorite flavor.”
“Do I have cum in my hair?” she asked.
I looked. “A little.”
“The last guy was all about cumming on my face.”
“Bad aim?”
“No. For the most part, he hit the target.”
“Any other standout performances?”
“One of the guys, I forget which one, wanted to use my ass.”
She knows exactly how jealous that makes me.
“Did you let him.”
“He paid for hit, didn’t he?”
“I suppose.”
“He went ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-mouth.”
“Covered all the bases.”
“Then he repeated it.”
“All in a half-hour’s time?”
“He made the rounds quickly.”
“Where did he finally arrive?”
“Ass, then mouth.”
“Well, you’ll have to speed up the spin cycle because all the rest of today’s engagements are only a quarter-hour.”
“Don’t you worry. Just as I can make you cum in under five minutes, I will give each of them their money’s worth.”
“Your talent never ceases to amaze me!”
I left and returned to my post. As I was outside, I saw the next customer pull up. A middle-aged man with a wedding band on his left ring finger.
I slipped in the door to my hotel room as he knocked on Lola’s door.
Soon I could hear him knocking on Lola’s back door too!
He was gone quickly.
A new customer came in and exited in under fifteen minutes. Lola texted me, “I had to pee when the last one arrived. I told him so. He asked to watch. He stroked it as I was on the toilet and then came on my face as I continued sitting, fingering my clit in front of him. It was hot!”
Cleanup
Ready!
Another customer. Lo texted me after that this one had a foot fetish and came on her toes.
There were many more before her last appointment for the night. The last one had paid for two hours and had a very particular fetish. It was a husband and wife and they wanted Lo to dress up as a bride in white lingerie: mesh lace pushup bra, matching thong panties, harness suspender belt connected to white garters and of course a tiara with flowing lace veil. I had packed all this for Lola with a note on it that said, “Finale.” Now she understood what I meant by that.
They were into roleplay. The husband and wife team told Lo that the scenario is that they are her parents on her wedding night and they are going to teach her how it’s done.
“You want to be sexy for your groom,” she said to Lo.
“OK, Mom, tell me how,” replied Lo.
“I’ll show you instead,” she said as she got naked and bent over the bed. “Put your ass in the air like this.”
Lo stood next to her as if her magic mirror. Gazing into the looking glass, the older woman beheld the younger.
Her husband approached her from behind and mounted her.
“Make sure you’re good and wet,” she instructed.
“Oh, Mom, I’m always wet.”
“He’ll enter you like so,” she said as she moaned.
“Is he big?” asked Lo.
“Try for yourself,” she said.
“Lola, spread your pussy for me,” he said to her.
Lola did as told, very dutifully.
He entered her.
“That’s it, honey,” said her ersatz mother as she grabbed Lo’s ass cheeks and spread them for her husband to penetrate her. Then she got in front of Lo and began smacking at Lo’s tits as they hung down and undulated forward with each thrust from behind.
“Mom,” said Lo, “that hurts!”
“Does it?” she asked, pausing from pawing Lo’s breasts.
“I didn’t say stop,” said Lo.
The wife resumed slapping Lo’s tits, gently at first but gradually with more force as her husband also grew more forceful from behind.
“I think you have done this before,” said the wife.
“Once or twice. Why? Am I good at it?”
“So good,” said the husband.
“Are you going to cum?” asked his wife.
“Fuck, yes! I am.”
“Cum on my tits!” said his wife. “And let me taste you after,” she added, opening her mouth wide.
He pulled out of Lo and came right on his wife’s breasts as she held them together tightly. Then he put his cock in her mouth for her to taste Lo’s juices.
“Lick me clean,” she instructed Lo.
Lo didn’t need to be told twice.
“That’s it. You’ll make a good wife to your groom. But, darling, I’m going to have to instruct him how to properly fuck you. You don’t mind, do you?” asked the older woman.
“No, Mom. He’s been hoping to be schooled by you.”
“Good. I hope he’s longer and thicker than your father over there,” she said, nodding at the sated man in the chair.
“He is, by far!”
The couple eventually cleaned up and left, each of them kissing Lo goodbye first.
I then returned to my love and got the full story from her as she made passionate love to me, calling out numerous times, “Daddy, am I a bad girl? Am I a slut? Am I a proper, passionate, pliable little prostitute?”
“Yes, dear,” I said, “you’re a good whore, but more than anything else, you’re my whore.”
She liked that. She liked that very much.
On the plane home, Lo turned to me and whispered, “Thank you Daddy, that was the most wonderful birthday present ever.”
“Birthday present? – it was your Valentine’s Day gift.”
“So I still have a birthday present coming to me?”
“You sure do!”
Her eyes lit up. “When we get back?”
“If you’re a good girl,” I said, patronizingly.
She held my hand. There was a silence during which I knew exactly what she was thinking.
Three, two. . .
“What is it?” she asked, right on queue.
“That would spoil the surprise.”
“But Daddy, I can’t wait. Give me a hint.”
“No hints.”
She looked disappointed and then put her finger to her lips and furrowing her brow as if she were in deep thought.
“Now Lola,” I said, “if you do that, you’ll give yourself wrinkles prematurely.”
She looked at me, surprised.
“Do you think I’m getting wrinkles?” she asked in a panic, putting her hands to her forehead to smooth her skin.
“No,” I laughed, “no I don’t.”
“When do you think I’ll get wrinkles? Do you think I’ll go grey? You think my boobs will sag?”
“You realize, Lo, you’re ageist.”
“Ageist? Me? Impossible. I’m dating you and you’re ancient!”
“You see. There you go again.”
“Oh, come on,” she said.
“Well, thank God you don’t age.”
“No, I don’t, do I?”
“Not a day over twenty-four.”
“But I will be soon,” she said with fright.
“No you won’t.”
“What?”
“How old were you last year?” I asked.
“Twenty-four,” she said as if it were an obvious question.
“And how old did you turn the year before that?”
“Twenty-three. Duh.”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“You turned twenty-four.”
“I think you failed math. Twenty-three comes before twenty-four.”
“How old will you turn this year?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Nope.”
“We are in a plane, but are you high? How ‘nope’?”
“Because, my dear, I am the author of this here story. You have been twenty-four since we started this account of our sex lives together.”
She looked at me like I was crazy.
“OK,” I said, “how old am I?”
“That’s easy,” she said, looking a little nervous.
“Then tell me.”
“You’re fifty-something.”
“Fifty what?”
“Fifty-er-uh-something.”
“I had a birthday last year. Remember?”
“Of course I do! I got you a private stripper. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” I said, dreamily.
She teasingly punched me, “Hey, I’m over here,” she said.
“And how old did I turn last year?”
“Fifty. . . one?”
“Nope.”
“Two?”
“Nope.”
“How old?”
“Fifty-something, exactly.”
“That’s silly.”
“I have always been fifty-something and you have always been twenty-four. I will always be fifty-something and you will forever remain twenty-four.”
“Forever?”
I nodded affirmatively. “Forever.”
She thought about it for a while before finally asking, “But I still get a birthday present?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then I’m ok with that.”
Lo Exhausted
“J.O.I. de Vivre”
Uh Oh, someone got busted looking at Lo’s tits while working from home!
For those few of you who might not know, “J.O.I.” stands for “Jerk Off Instructions.” It’s a rather popular form of porn that has been part of intimate bedroom play for as long as there have been masturbators and those who love to instruct them. Lola has engaged in this special type of kink for a long time now – telling her friends and fans exactly how she wants them to cum to her, remotely or in person. During the COVID lockdown, this became one of her favorite ways of getting herself off safely.
You also may recall our newlywed couple, Jane and Andrew, who discovered each other’s kinks on their wedding night. Turns out Jane’s kink was reading Match, Cinder & Spark while denying Andrew and Andrew’s kink was wearing women’s lingerie while being denied by his bride.
I’m happy to report that they found a way for them both to get off, using the tertium quid of Lola.
“Lola, Andrew has two work-from-home days next week. Please tell us instructions for his torment,” wrote Jane.
“When he works from home, is he on Zoom?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, he should only be dressed from his waist up. You should hang my photos all over the house. Whenever he gets up – to get a coffee, to eat lunch – and walks past my photo, he must stroke until he is good and hard. But he may not cum. Take photos of it.”
“Excellent. And on the second day?”
“On the second day, same, but at the end of the day you will stroke his hard cock to my photos and this time he is allowed to cum, but only by means of your touch.”
“Thank you, Lola! You have no idea what this means to us!!!”
Lola sent them select photos for them to print out and frame. Here are the results.
You should try this at home too and send Lo the results!
Baad Kiity!
[WARNING: This post contains magical realism!]
Baad Kiity plays with her pussy while reading about Lola Down
It was a beautiful sunny summer morning. Lola and I stepped out to go for a Sunday stroll when, out of nowhere, a black cat strutted down the street, right up to Lola’s feet, laid on its back, and practically demanded that Lola pet its belly.
Lola “pets the cat”
“You know that cat?” I asked, surprised by the forwardness of this feline.
“No,” said Lola as she crouched down to indulge the cat’s demand.
“Then why are you petting it?”
“A neglected pussy is a sad pussy,” she said. She has a way with pithy phrases. “Can we keep her?”
“What? No. That’s a feral cat. Who knows where it’s been? Who knows what diseases it carries?”
“Awe, come on Daddio. Please.”
“No. It’s an outdoor cat and outdoor cats belong outdoors.”
“I want to make her an indoor cat.”
“You can’t make an outdoor cat an indoor cat.”
“Yes you can, people do it all the time.”
“But why would you?”
“You know that being an outdoor cat takes like seven years off the cat’s life.”
“I’d much rather be an outdoor cat, free, than stuck inside, lying around all day, looking out the windows longingly.”
“You’d love to be an indoor cat and just lie around all day.”
“I couldn’t type with paws.”
“You’d have a little cat book you would read.”
“Well, maybe if it had pictures of pussies.”
Lola laughed at my one-track mind and she eventually got up and we left the cat to go for our walk. We really thought nothing more of it.
Along our saunter through the sanguine streets of our neighborhood, we ran into a neighbor who made polite conversation with us. At one point he turned to Lola and asked if she was still working from home. Lola replied in the affirmative and proceeded to tell the neighbor about her routine.
“I wake up, pet the cat, have some coffee and then hop on Zoom. I often try to interrupt the monotony throughout the day. It’s far too easy to work straight through, so I put on my schedule a number of breaks for me to get off. Pet the cat, take care of business, get all the tension out through a hysterical paroxysm.”
As we walked away from the confused interlocutor, I said to Lola, “Well, that was a new one.”
“What? I’ve been saying hysterical paroxysm for years. It’s an old-timey expression that not too many people know the meaning of.”
“I didn’t mean that, though he certainly either was ignorant of it or thought you must have made a malapropism. I meant, ‘pet the cat.’”
“Oh, well, our little encounter made me think of that.”
“He knows we don’t have a cat.”
“Does he? Well, I can pet the cat anyway. I just did this morning.”
Now I was confused. Did she mean she masturbated this morning or that she pet the stray cat we met this morning? Probably both. I let it drop.
When we got home, Lola hopped into bed and slid her panties down to her ankles and then over her feet and then to her toes before finally discarding them altogether. “Fuck me Daddy,” she said, spreading her legs wide and lifting her skirt. She smacked her pussy lips.
Lo “pets the cat”
“Not now, Darling,” I said, “later.”
“Why not now and later?”
“Why don’t you amuse yourself. Pet the cat,” I said. “I’m going to read for a bit.”
Imposters
I sat down in the cool living room, the windows open and a gentle cross-breeze blowing through the room. It was delightful. I got through about a page of the book by Joanna Bourke I had recently purchased when I heard Lo calling out from the bedroom, “Bad kitty! Bad Kitty!” as she slapped her pussy harder and harder. I could hear the wetness between her legs splashing with each slap of her open palm. “Baad Kiity!” she moaned.
Baad Kiity
Suddenly, out of nowhere, on the bed, was the black cat we had seen earlier.
“What the fuck?!” cried Lo in astonishment.
Baad Kiity
Lo was in a uniquely vulnerable position and the feline was staring down her juicy crotch. It peered up over her mons pubis and looked with its cat’s eyes at Lo. It took two steps forward and Lo prepared herself for a full-frontal attack when suddenly the cat transmogrified into what appeared to be a sexy Cat Woman. She wore a black leather mask with little cat ears and a matching red bra and panties.
Baad Kiity Clitty
“Who are you?” asked Lola in astonishment.
“I’m your Baad Kiity,” she said.
“Where did you come from?”
“I was by your front door this morning. I’ve heard your howls in the night, in the day, basically all around the clock and I finally found you. You spoke my magic name and here I am to lick your little clitty like I lap up a bowl of milk.”
Lola spread her legs and let Baad Kiity have at it. She was instantly transported into another realm.
A few orgasms later and Lo, panting, struggling to stabilize her breath, asked, “Can I do anything for you?”
“Well, there is one thing I would like,” said Baad Kiity, licking Lo’s juices from her hands as if they were paws.
“Anything,” said Lo.
“Where I come from, I must content myself merely with my imagination.”
“Where do you come from?”
“That is not important. What is important is I would very much like to have one of your books to amuse me when I play with my own Baad Kiity.”
“Which one?”
“Volume V: Shorter Shorts, please.”
Lo grabbed her copy from the shelf and gave it to the mysterious feline avatar.
“Thank you, Lo. One sex superhero to another, I’m a big fan.”
And with that, the dark, stealthy, and sleek visitor sauntered out the bedroom, out the front door, and down the shadow-covered street, wearing merely a black bra, panties, and her black leather cat mask. She carried the book with her.
Lo came from the bedroom, stark naked, and said, “Did you see that?!”
“I did,” I said, putting my book down. “I think it may be best if we don’t talk of this to anyone.”
“Agreed,” said Lo.
[For more of the very fine, very feline Baad Kiity, check out her OnlyFans page here and here.]
Check her out!
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.
Housewife to Hotwife: Ginger’s Transformation Story
Ginger reading “Sexy Shorts” in her cute “Fuck You” panties
Ginger (not her real name) and her family lived not too far from the City of Sin. Yet, you would never know it from her day-in, day-out routine. She had met her husband, Joe, in her early twenties when she was wild, winsome, and as wicked as her long red hair suggested. Before too long they were married, having a baby, and Ginger went from raising holy hell to becoming a happy homemaker.
A few years in and she had gained a few pounds, or quite a few – getting up close to 200. She was happy, but unsatisfied. Content, but longing. Secure, but wanting to feel sexy.
Then, one day, she happened to come across a gym that promised to sculpt, firm, and transform its clients into bikini contest winners. She signed up. Within six months she had shed fifty pounds and turned her arms, legs, abs, and glutes into firm flexing features of feminine beauty. Feminine, not in the sense of delicate and dainty, but in the sense of a Greek goddess – a powerful, proportioned epiphany.
Fit Ginger Hotwife
Soon Ginger was convinced to compete on the bikini beauty circuit and she was winning!!! Her total transformation garnered her a lot of attention – from friends, family, and fans. Suddenly, her long ignored libido was longing for more. Late one night she was in bed, Joe sleeping soundly next to her, as she surfed the web. She came across mysexlifewithlola.com. She scrolled, read, and fapped until the sheets were soaked. Intrigued, she ordered Match, Cinder & Spark: Sexy Shorts. When it arrived, she shared it with her hubby, reading together in bed.
Fit Ginger Hotwife Faps to Lola
“What do you think?” she nervously asked him.
“Think – about what?”
“About Lola. What she does.”
“Sexy.”
“Really? You like that she sleeps with other guys. . . and women?”
“Yeah.”
Ginger saw her opening.
“How would you like it if I did that?” she asked, before going down on him. She let the question sink in as she sucked his cock.
The next night they read another chapter, “Pride Day,” about Lo jacking off a guy in a bar.
Fit Ginger Hotwife studying up
“Are you willing to share me?” Ginger asked Joe.
“Are you for real?”
“I want to be fucked by many, many men.”
Fit Ginger Hotwife in her strappy shoes and with “Sexy Shorts”
Before too long, Ginger was having parties of five men in hotel rooms, going down on the other female competitors in the bikini contests, and creating an OnlyFans page. Her hope on the horizon is to become an escort at one of the many legal brothels in Nevada. Go to work, fuck ten or twenty guys, come home with a bra stuffed with hundreds, lie down next to Joe, tell him about her hard day at work, and have him fuck her well-used pussy as if he were another John.
Fit Ginger Hotwife enjoys being used
This November, she wrote to us to say “Thanks Lo and HH! Happy Thanksgiving!”
FitGingerHotwife
Hotwife 101
Learn to be a hotwife
Fit Ginger Hotwife – hotpockets!
fitgingerhotwife – anal