Hey Friends, Fans, and Fiends out there! As you all know, we had a Valentine’s Day promotion to help people through the difficult times of COVID-19. We sent a free copy of our books to fans and all we asked in return was that they send back some sexy photos of themselves with our book strategically placed. Well, the friends with benefits program is paying off. We are pleased – very pleased – to help promote some of our fans with a Twitter “OnlyFans” account and also present to you other, non-professional, fans who wrote back to us.
First we have the sexy Samantha Massie, a.k.a. Southernbella1. She is a real Southern belle, hailing from Georgia, raised in a very proper Christian household, she and her hubby, Justin, have three young kids. Though she’s a certified medical assistant (CMA), she’s trying to make ends meet for the family and to earn enough to go back to college to get her registered nursing degree. After she asked her friend and professional photographer, Dan, to take some boudoir photos of her as a gift to her hubby, he liked what he saw so much that he encouraged Samantha to monetize her assets on Twitter. He suggested posting sexy nudes on her OnlyFans page (southernbella1). He fully supports her in this and, who knows, maybe even wants her to be a hotwife someday like me! Please go out and support Samantha and her college goals and her family by subscribing to her Twitter OF page. You will be very glad you did!!!
We will be having more of our promotional stars soon. Write in to us if you would like to be on the list for our May is Masturbation Month promotion!!! downloladown@gmail.com
Our first date flopped. Cooped up since March due to COVID, Lo was complaining that she hadn’t been on a date in “forever.”
“What about the brothers? Don’t they count?” I asked, referring to the two boys from across the street who had been making regular house calls to Lo’s bedroom to unload their pent-up pandemic sexual frustration with the help of Lola’s pussy.
“Those aren’t dates, Daddy. Those are booty calls. Pity fucks. Besides, they’re so young and inexperienced that there isn’t even sexual tension buildup. It’s all just ram-and-release.”
“You seem to like it.”
“Oh, I love it, for what it is.”
“So, what is it you want?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“My only wish is to please you.”
“That’s good because my only wish is to be pleased. I want to go on a proper date.”
“Oh Daddio, you do count. You count the number of men and women I fuck.”
“I can’t count that high.”
“I’ll buy you an abacus.”
“Is that the thing with the beads on it?”
“Yes.”
“That you put in your ass?”
“No. That’s a different thing.”
Not an Abacus
“Oh.”
“I want to go on a date with a couple.”
“A couple?”
“Yeah, a married couple.”
“You have anybody in mind.”
“Daddy, I always have many bodies in mind.”
“Any particular bodies for your date?”
“Yes. There’s a married couple that is trying to get the ole flame flickering again.”
“Let me guess, you think that you can help his wick to grow.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Where’d you find this couple?”
“They found me.”
“Not another ad!”
“No, Daddy. They have been reading the blog.”
“What are their names?”
“Ron and Nicole. She’s a schoolteacher. He’s a lawncare person.”
“Interesting. And how are you going to go on a ‘date’ in COVID?”
“We. We are going on a date. You and me with them.”
“Again, how?”
“Do you like drive-in movies?”
“Haven’t been to one in ages. Why?”
“Well, it will be like a drive-in.”
“How so?”
“We’ve picked a place to meet and they’ll go in their car and we’ll go in ours.”
“And?”
“That’s it. We’ll see where we go from there.”
Skank Suit
We pulled up in the vacant parking lot. It was cold out for November. Ron and Nicole pulled up to our right in a late model Cadillac. Ron rolled down his window. Lola rolled down hers. They smiled at each other.
“Hi Lola,” called Nicole from the passenger seat.
“Hi Nicole,” responded Lola. I waved, foolishly, and smiled politely.
We could see our breath as the winterlike air flowed into the cabin.
My car has bucket seats. Lo and I couldn’t physically be right next to each other.
Their car had a bench front seat. Nicole slid over to Ron. They were in their early to mid-forties, I’d say. She was pretty. He was smaller in frame than I had imagined. They were clearly there to see Lo perform.
Lola stripped naked in the car, but with the windows rolled up, soon the glass was covered in condensation. Ron and Nicole couldn’t see anything. The more Lo tried, the more foggy the windows got.
Lo rolled down the window, which had the benefit of allowing Ron and Nicole to see her and to make her nipples very hard. But they could only see so much.
Lo opened the car door to expose below her chest. She swiveled and spread her legs, putting her feet up on the seat and fapping her wet pussy. The couple in the car next to us seemed to enjoy the show, but even I was cold, so I can imagine how chilly Lo’s hairless crotch must have been!
I could see that Nicole had Ron’s cock in her right hand and was stroking it as Lo stroked herself.
That didn’t last long. Lo was shivering. The cold air on her nipples made them hard. The downdraft on her bare pussy gave it goosebumps. Pretty to look at, but no amount of caressing, slapping, or fingering could dispel the chill.
After about a half-hour of trying, we called it off and said we’d try again another time.
On the ride home, the heat blasting, I put on Poe’s “Hey Pretty.” The seductive lyrics sang:
Hey pretty
Don’t you want to take a ride with me?
Through my world
Lo leaned over and said, “Can I just be your cock-warmer?”
“Cock-warmer? What is that?”
“You just let your cock rest in my mouth.”
Cock-Warming
“We both know that there’s no ‘just’ with you. Especially after this.”
“I’ll tell you what, you drive and I’ll give you the longest unzipping of your life.”
But just then our little late night drive took a strange turn.
We had just got home and I could tell by the look in her eye she was up to no good.
She walked in the front door wearing that little strumpet outfit she had put on for her audience and, not getting to give the show she had planned for them, she was ready to perform for me. A bad, naughty little performance for a packed house of one.
She pranced into the living room in her heels, black leather skirt, no panties, leather jacket, sheer blouse beneath revealing her hard nipples. She turned on the music: Machine Gun Kelly, “Bad Things.” It was as if she had been waiting her turn in the strip club and the DJ finally got around to her set list.
The blinds were all open as she did her little COVID Cabaret.
“Did you like seeing me in the car tonight, Daddy?”
“I did,” I said as I sat down on the couch to watch her.
“What did you like about it?”
“Your willingness to make a couple happy. I always say your generous nature is your best quality.”
“I have a lot of good qualities.”
“True.”
“And a lot of bad thoughts.”
“Do tell.”
“If you only knew the bad things I like,” she sang along with the song.
She lifted her skirt above her ass as she bent over by the window.
“Well, Daddy, are you going to give it to me?”
I stood up and came close to her. I began undoing my pants, but she stopped me.
“No,” she said, “your belt. Give it to me.”
“Punishment?”
“Yes.”
She assumed the position, bracing for it.
I pulled out my long black leather belt, bent it in half, grabbed both ends in one hand and gently let it fall upon her flesh.
“Oh, come on,” she mocked. “Harder.”
“I gave her a mild whack.
“Harder. Wasn’t I bad Daddy? Wasn’t it wrong of me to arrange this COVID dogging session?”
I gave her a strong spank with the strap. It made a clear cracking on her ass. Her body convulsed as if she was surprised by it. Then she said, “Yesss, that’s it.”
I gave her another.
We hadn’t engaged in this sort of play for a long time.
“You were bad,” I said, reflecting upon it. “Dressed scantily in public like that. Like a little skank.”
“That’s right.”
I gave her a harder smack. I could see the outline of the belt in a red line left on her skin, even in the dim light.
“Again.”
I gave it to her again.
“Harder.”
She got another harder.
“I wish that the three of you could be doing this to me. You, Ron, Nicole.”
I gave her another WHACK!
“I wish I was tied to a pole naked (except my heels of course) and each of you had a strap to take turns on my body.”
“Why?” I asked as I inflicted another, harder lick of the leather.
“Cause I can take it. Cause I like it.”
“Why?”
WHAP!
“Because I deserve it.”
SMACK!
“Because I’m so, so bad.”
I gave her one last, forceful spank with the belt before she said our safe word. She turned around. There were tears in her eyes. She reached out her arms and hugged me. She wrapped her legs around mine. She was holding on for dear life.
“I hate this pandemic!” she said, weeping.
She slowly descended, her body crumpling around my legs. She was on the floor, hugging my shins, crying, weeping, naked.
“Come,” I said, helping her up. “Let me apply some aftercare.”
Spank Me Daddy
I led her to the bedroom where I gently laid her out on the bed, face down. I went into the bathroom and got out the baby oil. I puddled some in my palm, rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and gently caressed it over her glowing red ass, sore from the spanking she received.
“Owweeemmmmmm,” she purred, her cry of pain turning to a hum of pleasure.
I made small gentle circles with my palms on her ass cheeks. I slid my fingers between her ass cleavage. I ran my fingertips up and down her crotch gently. I revolved my index finger around her special spot, slowly descending into it, one knuckle at a time until fully submerged. She moaned with pleasure. In-and-out I went, first with one finger then with two. I curled them and fingered her ass much the way I would finger her pussy.
Her body mimicked the motions of an inchworm, rising in the middle and then descending. Up-and-down. Faster my fingers slip-sliding in-and-out, until she said, “There! Stay. Deep. Hold it!” She came. I could see her pussy juices dribbling down her thighs. Her ass clenched up on my fingers. Her body was motionless for a moment before the waves of involuntary convulsions shuttered across the surface from feet to shoulders.
Her sphincter released and I slid my fingers out with ease.
To my shock she was asleep.
I was hard, but happy. My deepest desire is to please her.
We watched Boogie Nights up until the scene where the newbie pornstar, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg) is filmed by the seasoned director, Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), making love to his wife, Maggie/“Amber Waves” (Julianne Moore). At that point, Lo was too turned on from watching the movie while cock-warming me to continue. We retired into the bedroom where she proceeded to ask me, “I bet you’d like to film me auditioning all those men who want to be pornstars, wouldn’t you Daddy?”
“I thought you were sore?” I asked her, referring to her masturbation marathon earlier in the day.
“Sore, but not satisfied. Fuck me. I like it when it hurts.”
I slid in her slippery snatch and she moaned with pleasure and pain.
“I think you’d like to be auditioning them,” I responded to her.
By the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head, I could tell that the image of her being the older seductress, seducing young, aspiring actors, getting them to break through the role and into the authentic enjoyment of her body, was turning her on.
While her fantasyland role was screening in the adult theater of her dark and dirty mind, my own thoughts were scrawling across my cerebrum. Since I had cum on my own earlier that day, my stamina was augmented. I had plenty of time, while Lo bounced up-and-down on my rod to the beat of her own drum, to explore the following musings.
I began with Boogie Nights and the thought of how, yes, Lo was right, I could easily see myself in the role of the director, Jack Horner, filming his own wife as she slept with various pornstars. Turning her lustful liaisons into works of art was already my forte. My mind then turned to the late, great Orson Welles and his love affair infatuation with Oja – his muse, mistress, and movie star of films such as F for Fake, and The Other Side of the Wind. A documentary about the making of the latter movie came out a couple years ago and in it, those who were on set with Welles recalled how he wanted to film, at great length, a pornographic sex scene starring Oja with Robert Random (actual actor’s name). Perhaps the aging Welles (he was between 55 and 61 while making it) took delight in seeing his young mistress (she was between 24 and 30 while making it) getting delight from a younger man who could give it to her. Sounds familiar.
“Deeper, Daddy, please,” she whined as she rode me, startling me out of my musings.
I opened my eyes and saw her pulling at her nipples over me. “Am I your pornstar?” she asked.
I tried to meet her descending hips with ascending thrusts of my own. She needed to feel the tip of my shaft on that magic spot deep inside her. If I were larger, longer, harder, I would press that button without even trying. But, alas, that was not the case.
Frankie Shaw
Frankie Shaw
Frankie Shaw using her Instagram to expose herself
Her question turned my thoughts from directors making their muses the material of art, to that wannabe pornstar who used her creative powers of writer, director, and actor to live out her clear fantasy of being fucked on camera. Frankie Shaw, in her series SMILF, used every opportunity to get naked, get laid, and get herself off in her show. I wondered how her husband, Zach Strauss, enjoyed watching her perform completely gratuitous sex scenes on the show. Let’s be clear, none of her sexpoloits were essential to the story – from her fantasy gangbang in the pilot where she is fucked by a basketball team of black men, to her seducing the boy she babysat, to the creepy scenes of her naked in a bathtub with her fictional child. None of that advanced the plot in a way that it couldn’t have done without those scenes. But, given the creative license she had, she used it to be as licentious as she could, making her the star – the pornstar.
Frankie Shaw from her Instagram being exhibitionist in her neighborhood during COVID
Lo wasn’t cumming. She got up, off of me and commanded, “Get behind me and fuck me, hard!” She was on all fours on the bed and needed me to stand up, perpendicular to her, as she looked in the full-length mirror before her, watching us fuck, as she might watch a porno.
“Come on, Daddio! Really ram it home,” she called over her shoulder.
I thrust at her with all I had. I was panting, sweating, wondering if my back was going to be sore for a week.
Mercifully, she began to cum. I could feel her pussy clenching, preparing to eject me and ejaculate. Her voice was insistent. “Cum! Cum!” she demanded, knowing that there were mere seconds left before I wouldn’t be able to remain deep inside her.
Enjoy your erotic reading.
“Where do you want me to cum?”
“Inmeinmeinmeinme!”
I don’t do well with cumming on command. If she had said, “Whatever you do, don’t cum,” then there would have been no problem. Besides, I had, at her recommendation, already cum once that day. I was near my limit.
Frankie Shaw gets nailed by the boy she baby sat in SMILF
It was already too late. The torrent had been unleashed. The spillage had gushed down her legs and now the dam was about to break, flooding me right out of her.
Frankie Shaw stars in a porno
Her legs were quivering and she was pounding the bed with her fist as she screamed “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
I backed up and watched the demonic possession take hold as she lost control of her faculties, senses, bodily movements, and sanity.
Her orgasms are simultaneously a full-body and out-of-body experience. They are sublime to watch, in the full sense of that word: terrifyingly beautiful.
The bed covers were drenched; her body lifeless on top of the mess she had made.
Frankie dreams of Lola
Scene from SMILF Not necessary, Right? How did this get approved?
Slowly, her breathing steadied and resumed regularity.
She rolled over as if she had been hit by a Mac truck.
“Wow!” was all she said. And then, a little while later, “I won’t be able to walk, sit, or cross my legs tomorrow!”
Frankie Shaw getting off to Lola Down
“I guess you’ll just have to lie in bed all day.”
“That’s ok, it’s my favorite place to be and my favorite position.”
She got off the bed and began cleaning up the sodden bedding, throwing all of it in the laundry basket.
“Feeling better?”
“You didn’t cum,” she had the gall to complain.
“I did, just not with you.” I knew that remark would piss her off.
She gritted her teeth and growled at me.
“You told me to fuck Stoya, remember?”
“But on these short days in January, I really needed an injection of vitamin D, if you know what I mean.”
“It would have just come out in the wash anyhow.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
She thought for a moment. “I like to have the power to make you ejaculate on command.”
“Talk about a control freak. I did ejaculate on command – your first command. You told me to jack off while you masturbated to oblivion.”
“But I thought you knew the Golden Rule: Love thy woman as thyself.”
“Oh, is that the rule? I thought you said it was: Love thyself and often.”
“That’s my rule. Not yours.”
“So, why did you tell me to go away instead of letting me watch?”
“Well, you made me jealous when looking at all those women.”
“You’re the one who wanted to look at them with me!”
“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissively. “I wanted to make you jealous.”
“Oh, so it had nothing to do with being turned on by them?”
“There was that too. But now I feel so slutty.”
“You should.”
“No, Daddy. I mean, not only was I cheating on you. . .”
“It’s not really ‘cheating’ if I know about it and condone it.”
“I was corresponding with a guy online.”
“Today?”
“Yeah, well, like every day.”
“And?”
“His name is John. I call him my internet boyfriend.”
“I think you mentioned him to me.”
“And I was cheating on him with another guy. Or maybe I was cheating on the other guy with John. I don’t know. It all gets so confusing.”
Lo and I were in the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. She was looking at her phone. I sat with my laptop open, reading emails, when suddenly, up popped an email in our shared account. Unlike most of our fan mail, it wasn’t directed to Lo, it was addressed to me. And it had a few photos attached. Sexy photos. Of my female fan.
“What are you looking at?” Lo asked, never one to be unobservant.
“Nothing,” I clumsily lied.
“What do you mean nothing?”
“Just an email,” I said, telling the truth, trying to pass it off as nothing.
“Let me see,” she said, scooting over, closer to me, suspicious.
How does she do that? How does she know when something is amiss?
My heart was racing. She gets so jealous.
There was nothing to do but give in to the inevitable.
I showed her the email and the photos.
“Nothing huh? Who is she?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Just a fan. A connoisseur of fine literature. A grateful reader. A woman of exquisite taste in art.”
“You really don’t know who she is?”
“I swear.”
“She just wrote to you for the first time?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t carried on a correspondence with her?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“You like her?”
“What do you mean, like her?”
“You find her attractive?”
That is a very dangerous question. The female author of the epistle in question was, in point of fact, appealing. As her missive made clear, she was a wife and mother whose sex life had fallen fallow in the past few years as the children occupied more of her time and energy. But reading about my sex life with Lola had rekindled something deep down inside her and she just wanted to show me exactly where it was rekindled.
“She’s not unattractive,” I said, attempting to be as neutral as possible.
“Let’s play a little game,” said Lo. I was quizzical. “I’ll go through photos of our fans and you tell me if you find them sexy. But let’s do it in the bedroom.”
“What?”
“Yeah, just be honest,” she said as she walked down the hall.
“Are you trying to get me deeper in the hole?” I asked, following behind her.
“Depends on which hole you mean.”
GULP.
“Let’s start,” she said as she took out her computer and went to her special stash of emails and photos. She unzipped my pants and grabbed onto my flaccid member as she pulled up photo after photo. Honestly, I was too scared to get hard.
After about five or ten, she paused and looked at me a moment.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Lo, you know perfectly well what’s wrong. For years now, you’ve made the nature of our relationship clear. Now you want me to look at other women? I think that I’m being set-up.”
“No no no,” she said with a smile. “I’m just feeling like changing things up a bit.”
“You know, I could get just as hard looking at photos of men who’ve sent you cumtributes.”
“Well, maybe I’ll throw in a few of those as well. But don’t be bashful. Let’s keep on playing.”
She scrolled through scores of sexy photos and, for each one she gave me a bit of backstory, telling me the names of each woman and a bit of bio.
“I don’t know, but I’m a fan of hers. . . and his!”
“And this is. . .” The list went on-and-on. With each new set of photos that Lo opened from her password-protected fap file, she grew a little more excited. If she was a guy (and she sure acts like one), she would have had a raging hard-on at this point. I have no doubt that her clit was fully tumid. She was reaching for it.
Karla over the years
Karla’s husband Chris getting off to Lola
“Um, can you give me a minute?” she asked.
“What?”
“Here,” she said, passing me the Stoya Destroya vagina. “You can use this if you want to wank. But only use my photos.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna have me a wank too.”
“But you want me to leave.”
“Yeah, is that ok?”
“Um no. Not really.”
Larry Archer’s wife
“Just give me a little while.”
She got out of bed to escort me to the door as she got out of her clothes. She put her panties on the doorknob as if she had a paramour over, but it was just her and her fingers, toys, and binders full of women.
I went back to the living room, confused, carrying my vagina. Well, Stoya’s vagina. Carrying a vagina.
I returned to the bedroom and knocked on the door furtively.
“What?” she asked, not opening the door.
“Lube,” I said. “You didn’t give me the lube.”
The door opened a crack. I saw her standing naked. She looked good. Her arm extended, dropping the tube of lube in my hands.
“OK?” she asked, shutting the door.
Stoya front, Lola back
I walked away again.
Finding my way onto the couch, I began writing – this story.
Lo’s orgasmic arias were audible throughout the house. They rose and fell, crescendo, decrescendo. So many ups and downs I lost count. I looked at the vagina sitting next to me and said, “It’s bad enough she needs more from me. Don’t you just sit there and look despondent at me that she’s getting all the action. It’s not my fault you don’t have arms, hands, or fingers to help yourself out.”
Finally, I made use of Stoya, more for her sake than mine. She looked so sad there.
I came, one brief onanistic climax, looking at Lo’s photos on the internet while Lo, in the flesh, was having a grand old time fucking herself just down the hallway. I got up to do the proper aftercare cleaning of Stoya in the second bathroom and saw Lo’s panties still prominently displayed on the doorknob as Lo went at it.
I returned to the couch and took a long nap.
I was woken up by the feeling of Lo’s lips on my flaccid cock.
“What are you doing?”
“Cock-warming,” she said as she lay naked on the couch between my legs, looking up at me.
“You want something?”
“No, Daddy.”
“No?”
“I’m sore.”
“What the hell was going on in there?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I started off jilling to the women I was showing you, but then I was into the cumtributes I’ve been getting. I’m such a slut.”
“Agreed.”
“No, you don’t know why I’m saying that.”
“Do tell.”
“Well, I guess it’s bad enough that I am not faithful to you.”
“I don’t mind. . . usually.”
“But I have a sort of internet boyfriend.”
“What is that?”
“You know, like a work wife or a work husband.”
“You mean when people become overly chummy with people they work with?”
“Yeah, like that, but in my case, it’s with people I’ve met online.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I’ve been cheating on one of them with another guy.”
“I’m sure they don’t expect monogamy from you, dear.”
“Yeah, they’re both married themselves.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“That’s just it!”
“What?”
“Do you think I have a problem?”
“Other than being a nymphomaniacal, egomaniacal hotwife attention whore?”
“Yeah, other than that.”
“No, not at all.”
“Really?”
John Doe shrine to Lola
“If your biggest problem is that you’re sexting with someone behind the back of your long-distance lover while shutting me out of the bedroom so you can fist-fuck yourself because you’re turned on by your fandom, well, hey, we all should be that lucky!”
John Doe gets of to Lo
“I love you, Daddy,” she said, before returning to cock-warming me.
We finally returned home after months in exile paradise during COVID-19 lockdown. We returned to a dusty house, cars covered in pollen as if after a light snow, and springtime blossoms. With nowhere to go since work-from-home orders were still in place, we Lo set herself to doing the spring cleaning in between Zoom meetings.
I, being an entrepreneur, resumed going to my office, though it was empty of Ms. Gale and my other employees.
One day, not long after our homecoming, after work I was greeted by Lo at the door. “What are you going to do with these?” Lo asked as I approached the threshold, holding four eight porno mags in her right hand.
My Sex Life Before Lola
“I was thinking about lining my coffin with them for the afterlife.”
“You can’t even get it up now – you think that you will be able to in death?”
“Haven’t you ever heard of rigor mortis?”
She let me inside to explain. She placed the porno mags on the dining room table, displayed prominently as ‘Exhibit A’ in the case against H.H.
“Lola, where did you find those?”
Gili Sky in a very Lola pose
“The top shelf of our closet, buried under a pair of old shoes in an old, raggedy box.”
“That’s where you started your spring cleaning?”
“I’ll be asking the questions here.”
“I’m sorry Madam Prosecutor. What was it you wanted to know?”
“Why did I find porno mags in our closet?”
“Because that’s where I put them?” I asked more than answered.
Gili Sky, precursor to Lo
“Begging the question!”
“OK, ok,” I said, raising my hands as if under arrest. “Lola, look at the dates on those.”
“I don’t have to.”
“I know, because they’re so freakin’ old. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just sentimental.”
“Sentimental?! What does that mean? Are each of those porn stars an ex-girlfriend?”
“No no no. I bought those when I was in my teens or twenties. I haven’t let go of them.”
“Because you’re a hoarder.”
“I am not a hoarder!”
“You have alumni magazines from fifteen years ago, newspaper clippings from twenty years ago. You even have a copy of the Sunday coupons from five years ago!”
“I’ve been meaning to redeem those.”
“Yeah, that’s my point! They don’t even sell those products anymore.”
“Maybe I have a slight problem. You’re right. But, if you’re going to clean, start with the coupons, leave the porn.”
“Why? You have all the porn you need right here,” she said, pushing her tits up, emphasizing her cleavage in the cutoff t-shirt she was wearing.
“Because?”
“Because why?”
“Just because.”
“When’s the last time you looked at those?”
“I don’t even know. Let me see. I need to refresh my memory here.” I began to flip through some of the magazines. “Oh yeah, Gili Sky. Wanda Curtis, and Gina Wild!”
Gina Wild looking for her keys
She pulled the magazines out of my hands. “That’s enough of that. They’re going in the trash.”
“But Darling!”
“What?”
“Those aren’t just any porno mags. They’re European. I got them when I was in Germany for grad school. They cost a fortune!”
“Trash!”
“They’re collectables.”
“You have to learn to let go. What sort of Buddhist are you?”
“A bad Buddhist. A very very bad Buddhist.”
“You got that right.”
“But, Buddhism is beyond duality.”
“So?”
“Good/bad, right/wrong. All that is in the realm of Samsara.”
“Samsara eh? Is she another porn star?”
“The best!”
“Good grief!”
“Those magazines are keepsakes.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well. . .” I didn’t know how to explain. “You’re too young to understand.”
“Try me.”
“Back when I was growing up, we didn’t have the internet. I wasn’t exposed to all the adult content you had at your fingertips. In America we had Playboy and Hustler. If you wanted some really raunchy stuff there were cheap, rather disgusting knock-off magazines. But in Europe, well, this was great stuff and. . .”
“And what?”
“The first time I ever even heard of anal sex and so much more that really expanded my horizons. They were truly beyond anything we had in America.”
“So, you can have all that now, in the flesh, with me!”
“Actually, it’s not the porn, so much as it is the medium.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I mean, in today’s world of internet porn, it’s all pixels and binary code. There are no more material products that you can hold in your hand, touch, feel, see the glossy pages, and put on a shelf to age like a fine wine. It’s all instant gratification and disposable consumption.”
“You can hold me in your hand, touch me, feel me, see me. I’m a very material girl.”
“You’re like a mashup.”
“What?!”
“A mashup between The Who’s See Me, Feel Me and Madonna’s Material Girl.”
“Oh,” she said.
“And these, these are my ‘Pictures of Lily,’” I said, picking up one of the magazines.
“Lilly?”
“No, not our friend Lilly. The Who’s Pictures of Lily.”
The “Pictures of Lily” drum set of Keith Moon
“What’s that?”
“A song about a boy who can’t sleep at night because he’s hard-up so his dad gives him some nudie photos to jack it to, but the boy falls in love with the woman. Unfortunately, she’s been dead since 1929. The boy is heartbroken.”
“So you jack it to these photos?”
“No no no! I’m just saying, all these women, they’re twenty-five years older now.”
“So, when I grow old, you won’t love me anymore? Is that what you’re saying?”
“No, Darling! You’ll never grow old. You’re forever young – er younger than I am, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, maybe you should plan on lining that coffin with these, since you’re practically one foot in the grave already.”
She hates it when I point out our age difference.
Just then there was a noise at the front door.
Lo checked it out and then walked back to the scene of our skirmish. She held the mail in her hand.
“Whatcha doin’?” I asked as I saw her whisking some batter in a bowl wearing just one of my t-shirts.
“Making whole wheat banana muffins. Will you try one?”
“Darling, I’ll eat your muff any day.”
“Well, this is the only muff you’re going to get today because my donut hole is oozing jelly, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re confusing food metaphors.”
“Well, there should be no confusion. If you don’t want our bed to look like something out of C.S.I., then I suggest you be content with just my banana muffin.”
“But you look so very edible in my shirt.”
“You can look, but no touch.”
“What about my banana?”
“Oh, is that what you have in your pants? You looked a little large to me.”
“This is all natural,” I said, pulling the elastic waistband forward for her to see.
“Keep it in your pants,” she said, still looking at it longingly.
“But Darling.”
“No buts,”
“Just your butt, how’s that? The perfect compromise.”
“Compromise? Seems more like first prize for you.”
“That it is.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
“And then I’ll give you some of my batter.”
Later that night, we both got in bed and I asked, “So?”
“So what?”
“Do I get my prize?”
“No, dear, not tonight.”
I was a little disappointed, but I knew better than to press the issue. She usually reserves her ass for other men, especially to make me jealous.
“Can I ask a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Will you hold Stoya for me?”
“Sure.”
I got up and took my Stoya Destroya Fleshlight out of the closet. “Do you wish to lube her up, or shall I?”
“I will,” she said. “Just stand there.”
“Why?”
“I like to see how my fingering her makes you hard.”
“OK.”
Stoya Destroya Fleshlight
She circled Stoya’s pussy lips like she was pleasuring her before dipping deep in her silicon cunt.
“You like that, Daddy?”
“I like that it looks like you like it.”
“I only wish she was here for me.”
“I bet you do.”
“You ready to fuck her?”
HH
“I am.”
She held Stoya’s pussy between her legs and said, “Go for it.”
I was positioned over Lo and Stoya. Lo was in the Missionary position holding Stoya steady for me. I slid right in. I was fucking her for maybe ten seconds before Lo said, “Daddy.”
“Yes?”
“Try it this way.” Lo turned onto her tum and placed Stoya between her inner thighs so I could go at her from behind. I was sliding in and out as Lo read a magazine, dismissive of my masturbatory movements.
“Lo,” I said, interrupting her focus.
“Yeah?”
“Whatcha reading about?”
“Nothing. It’s boring,” she said. Then she pulled out her phone. I could see she was looking at a naked couple.
“Who’s that?” I asked. I didn’t have my glasses on as I looked over her shoulder.
“Just a couple. They sent me a photo of them getting off together while reading Match, Cinder & Spark.”
Mike & Alia
She scrolled through a bunch of photos.
“Are all of those them?”
Mike Getting Off to Lo
“Yeah. They really like it.”
“What about you?”
“I love it.”
“The book or that they’re getting off to it?”
“Both silly.”
“Good,” I said, as I continued fucking Stoya.
“Daddy,” asked Lo, “can you move to my side?”
“Why’s that?”
“I want to use my Hitachi.”
“OK.”
I got on her left side. With her left hand she absentmindedly held the contraption steady. With her right hand she pressed the giant vibrator on her clit, clearly focused on that action.
I went at it. She went at it. Each of us separately together.
I looked at her naked body as I made my moves on Stoya. I observed Lo’s closed eyes, her heaving breasts, her tum tightening and relaxing as her right hand pressed and released the vibrating bulb on her clit. I wondered what scenes were playing out on the inside of her eyelids. Was she thinking of a man she saw today? A woman? A lover from her past? Someone she is yet to conquer? Was there a chance she was thinking of me? Unlikely. I was right next to her, physically, but she was somewhere else mentally. She was enjoying the scene. Maybe she was picturing the couple who sent the photos. I could see her body tensing up. Her shoulders grew concave as her right hand pressed harder. Her breasts heaved and became flush. Her brow furrowed with the intensity. Her knees buckled and her hips rose. Everything was teetering on tipping and spilling over. The moment was taut with anticipation and anxiety. There was always the slightest chance she wouldn’t pull it off; that the big O would slip from her grasp. It seemed so palpably near, but far from certain. It felt like there were many spirits in the room cheering her on to succeed as if she were running the last few yards of a marathon, the tightly stretched ribbon just aching to be snapped by the victor.
And then, there it was, her great reward for her efforts. Her entire body heaved and went into spasms as wave after wave of pleasure rippled over her flesh. She cursed and groaned, grunted and sighed while remarkably still holding the Fleshlight with her left hand.
Her pleasure was enough to put me over the edge. I came, filling Stoya with my cum.
We put the sex toys away and fell asleep satisfied with the job our prosthetic lovers did for us.
[Hi everyone! We hope that you boys & girls reading this from home are all safe and healthy. We know you’re sexy! We’re interrupting our usual programing of the mini-series “Mount Bliss” to bring you this story. You, our longtime readers and fans, probably know that most of the stories you read here are true, but HH takes a long time to craft them and so they are not usually about what is happening NOW. This is a little different. It was featured in the May edition of Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM) Magazine (p. 38). It’s appropriate not only because it tell you how we are dealing with life under lockdown, but also it’s appropriate since May is Masturbation Month! We hope you enjoy and we love to hear your stories of how you are doing: downloladown@gmail.com]
How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown
“Fuck me,” she said, “Yeah, like that.”
I looked in the slightly ajar door to see just whom Lola could be fucking during a mandatory lockdown in a global pandemic.
“Oh, yeah,” she cooed as she lay, splayed out on the bed, one hand up inside her, the other squeezing her tits.
She was fucking herself and, apparently telling herself just how much she enjoyed it.
Desperate times, I suppose.
We had been in lockdown for two weeks. It wasn’t so bad. We were in Florida, by the beach, which eventually got closed down. But we had a pool. That too got closed the second week. Now, all we had was each other and our health – a lot to be thankful for, no doubt, but not nearly enough for Lo.
We were both working remotely. It was a little past one in the afternoon. I was trying to do a conference call to Ms. Gale, my secretary, and one other person, but the moans and groans, gasps and grunts from the bedroom could be heard throughout the small apartment we were renting. When she transitioned to actual words like “Fuck me. Yeah, like that,” I had to make an excuse to hang up and go check on my nympho in the bedroom.
I politely waited until she was done – or at least taking a pause from her self-pleasure.
“Lo, come on!”
“What Daddy?”
“It’s one-fifteen.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Don’t you have work to do as well?”
“I’ve always had an hour of me-time scheduled every day on my work calendar, even before this whole Coronavirus thing. Everyone knows not to bother me for this hour.”
“Do they know what you’re doing on your ‘me-time’?”
“Oh no, Daddy. Well, I mean, I guess some of them probably have their suspicions.”
“Let me tell you, if you’re as loud in your office as you are here, then everyone knows.”
“I’m sorry, Daddio. But I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just fuck me.”
“We fucked last night and this morning.”
“So, why not this afternoon?”
“If I fucked you as much as you want it, then I certainly would die during this pandemic, but not from the virus!”
“It’s good exercise.”
“It seems like the only exercise you’ve been getting.”
“Well, the gym’s closed. Besides, the CDC said that the safest sex anyone can have right now is with themselves.”
“The CDC did not say that!”
“Someone said that.”
“Probably you.”
“That doesn’t make it untrue.”
“Good grief! Well, try to keep the sound effects to a minimum. OK? I have calls to make.”
While I work the day away, Lola plays. She carries on about five to ten affairs from afar with various men and women. Her friend, Nero Black, posted about jacking to her photos while his wife, who rarely gives up her goodies to him, jills it in the next room to taboo incest literotica. Yet, the married boy best beware if she happens to walk in on him in the onanistic act of worshipping Ms. Down. Lo has frequently suggested (nay, more than suggested, demanded) that Nero direct his partner’s web browser to mysexlifewithlola, or, at the very least, put the two of them in contact with each other. But, as of yet, he has refrained. Many-a-night I’ve had to hear from Lo about how she would have treated the two of them if she were their couples counselor.
Lo is friends with a lovely married couple from NJ, Mike and Danielle. Mike has been a stay-at-home-dad to his two young daughters while Danielle has done the 9-to-5 at the office. This has left Mike with time to chat with Lo and fap to Lo when the girls are down for a nap. Luckily, unlike with Mr. Black, this has all been on the up-and-up with his wife Danielle. In fact, not only with her blessing, but her encouragement. She loves to come home and see the cumtributes her husband made to and for Lola. Then, after the kids are put to bed, they turn on Lo’s pixilated pussy and fuck each other while looking at Lola.
Sharing Couple from NJ Hubby’s Cumtribute to Lola
Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories
Sharing Couple of NJ Getting off to Lo
Of course, for Lola this is more fodder for the fapper.
Then there’s Floss and Nikki of FlossDoesLife and LoveIsAFetish, respectively. They both have written raving reviews of the Match, Cinder & Spark books and, what gets Lo going even more, took sexy pics of themselves getting off to the printed page. What else are you going to do in isolation?
Floss & Lola
Nikki of LoveIsAFetish getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
Not only do the reviews get Lo riled up, but Lo listens to Jupiter recite tales of Lo’s ribald antics just about every night, which causes her to alternately laugh and lunge in the bed next to me.
Don’t get me wrong, this whole ordeal has taken its toll on all of us in so many ways, and Lo is not exempt from that. There are the nights that Lo can’t sleep due to anxiety about losing her job. Afternoons that Lo returns from food shopping and has a full-blown panic attack that she has contracted the virus and is certain to pass it on to me. Lo’s greatest fear? – dying alone. That means, if I die first, which is more than likely given our age difference, then who will be there for her? So, worse than her getting sick, in her mind, is my getting sick and dying! There is the frequent fretting about family members who are already fighting this virus in far-flung points on the map. Yes, we don’t talk about family too much here, but we do have relatives who are now among the ever-growing statistics you read about in the news.
For Lo, the go-to stress relief from all this ever-higher mountain of seen and unseen woe is found right between her legs.
Lo practicing Social Distancing Stress Relief, pass it along.
Finally, of course, there is just your straight-up porn that Lo has been watching. Lo has a penchant for amateur porn and her latest infatuation is with the couple Lindsey and Mike Love. Just as Lo and I fulfill the fantasies of many of our fans, I believe, Lindsey and Mike live out the fantasy life of Lo. A married couple who enthusiastically got into porn together from the tender age of eighteen and rise to amateur stardom, getting rich and having fun. I think the thing that Lo likes the most about the pair is that they have a real relationship, a story, and that they are very open to exploring sex with all genders, together and solo.
An hour later, Lo emerged from the bedroom. “Daddy, it’s hot in there. Will you help me open the window?”
I entered Lo’s lair of self-love. I opened the window with ease to let in the ocean breeze, but it immediately deflated downward.
“Is it broken?” asked Lo.
“I don’t know. It definitely doesn’t stay up like it used to.”
Without missing a beat she quips, “I’m sure you can relate.”
Stay safe everyone and we’ll see you on the internet.
This blog is about love, sex, relationships, psychology, and sex. Yeah, I said sex twice because, if the name of the blog is “mysexlifewithlola.com,” then an expectation is created that there will be a lot of sex. So, there you have it.
This blog is decidedly not about politics. In fact, many of you dear readers may have noticed that through all the topsy-turvy turbulent times in which we are living, this blog has delicately navigated a course far from politics. There is a good reason for that. If you are reading this, it’s because it is a fun escape from whatever else is going on in your life. No need to bring all that baggage here as well.
But right now sex and politics have mingled in a way that make it appropriate for us to discuss.
You may have heard about Congresswoman Katie Hill recently. If not, allow me to summarize her story. She was, until last week, a Democratic representative from California. She’s only 32 and she got elected after being the executive director of the non-profit People Assisting the Homeless (PATH). Apparently, she also has a “kinky” side. She came out as bisexual after high school and it is alleged that she and her now estranged husband were involved with another woman in a consensual relationship.
These facts became a problem for Hill when allegations swirled that she had an inappropriate relationship with a male staffer – a violation of House ethics rules that were put in place to prevent exploitation of power differentials in the wake of #MeToo.
But the thing that sunk Hill’s ship was the release of nude photos of her, allegedly by her estranged husband in an act of revenge porn.
It seems to me that in this day and age we need to begin taking seriously the fact that people can be more than one thing. Katie Hill can be a successful, sincere, hard-working, do-gooder striving to help the homeless, represent her constituency, and bring equity and justice into the lives of many. And she can be married to a man, have relationships with women, and not be limited by traditional notions of monogamy. And she can be into taking nudie pics of herself and her lovers. All of this can be true of the same person. “Kink” does not mean bad or selfish or untrustworthy. “Public Figure” does not necessarily mean missionary position for the rest of your life with the same partner of the opposite sex. Aren’t we beyond that yet?
Further, though once upon a time it was the height of scandal for a woman to be exposed – think Phryne being exposed by her lawyer in ancient Athens, Lady Godiva, A Night in Paris, or The Great Celebrity Photo Leak of 2014 – today it seems as if everyone and their mother is eager to have their racy photos on the internet and trending! So what is the big deal? Andy Warhol spoke of everyone having 15 minutes of fame in the future. I think now that everyone will soon have their top 15 nude photos on the internet.
As optimistic as that may be, we also need to be realistic. There are still many backward-thinking, bigoted, misogynist, mean-spirited, spiteful, and opportunistic people out there who are not above using a woman’s nude images against her.
Lo and I were pondering all of this when, just the other night, one of her female friends from the NFWITSFW part of the internet (that stands for “no fucking way is this safe for work”) told her that she wants to be “exposed.”
“What do you mean, ‘exposed’?” asked Lo.
“You know, like, I want the pics of me nude and pregnant to be the first image result when someone searches for that.”
Lo said that if I wrote a story about her friend and posted it, she probably would be. Though Lo is a “sinfluencer,” I think she overestimates our power of “product placement.”
Our friend, Karla, or KB HotWife, as she likes to be known, said, “Use my real name.”
“What?!” asked Lo.
“Yeah,” said Karla.
“You’re sure to get all the attention you crave if we do that, but be careful what you wish for,” cautioned Lo.
Luckily for Karla, I’m not a speed writer. The next day she told Lo she changed her mind.
Both Lo and I were relieved. It’s one thing if she wants to use her own name, but we didn’t want to be the ones to expose her. Who knows, she might want to run for public office some day!
[Below, enjoy some photos Karla has sent us for you to enjoy.]
What
does it mean to be an “underground” author in the age of the internet?
Lately
I’ve been reading a lot of and about Charles Bukowski. Largely ignored for most of his life, he
submitted his rough, distinctly “low-brow” poetry to independent and small
press journals. Through these he gained an
“underground” following that slowly grew by word of mouth until other independent
and small press publishing houses printed his works in book form for that
“underground” fan base. Bukowski’s work
caught the eye of other writers and musicians, mostly in the L.A. and San
Francisco areas, until eventually he caught on nationally and even
internationally.
But
in today’s media world, what does it mean to be an “indie” author or to have an
“underground” following?
fan pic
This indie author, whom you are now
reading, dear valued patron, has a substantial following, or, shall I say, a
much larger following than I ever imagined would sprout from my initial blog
posts about Lola. As I have explained in
various interviews elsewhere, this compulsion, which borders on graphomania,
came into being because, after a few months with Lo, I discovered that there
was almost no literature out there about being in a relationship with a
nymphomaniac. Since no one else was
writing about it, I figured I’d toss my hat in the ring and give a first-person
account of what it’s like – the proverbial trials and tribulations as well as
the orgasms and titillations.
Before
I knew it, I was suddenly gaining a following and garnering the praise and
accolades of other fellow sex-bloggers.
Women were sending me fan mail and nudes of themselves, much to the
consternation of Lo. Men and women were
writing to Lo and sending her all sorts of salacious selfies, much to her lurid
enthusiasm.
The Beautiful Faye Daniels getting off to Lola Down
Our
subscriptions and unique visits to our blog went up and soon we were being
featured on sites like Bustle and Top Sex Blogger lists.
I
compiled various stories into books and those sold swiftly. And now, today, we have over 20,000 followers
on our various media outlets.
However
much those numbers might dwarf the reach and following of a Bukowski back in
the day, with the potential of today’s technology, that seems far less
impressive than it would have been when the only way to get your writing in
front of a reader was through the mimeograph machine.
Are
you, dear confessional confidant, part of an underground audience? Does it even make sense to speak of such in
today’s complex and multilevel media ecosystem?
Or is “underground” just a term that is used retrospectively to describe a core following of people that read a
certain author before he or she hit the mainstream? Is it something that can only be applied with
hindsight?
I
don’t know the answers to these questions and I suppose, on some level, it
doesn’t matter since I write about what I love and I love what I write about –
Lo. As long as the love is good, I feel
the writing will be good as well. And
though the letters and gifts from the readers are flattering and the money
(what little there is) earned from the writing is appreciated, what matters
most is that I really enjoy doing what I’m doing.
“You are beautiful.
Your eyes are beautiful. Your
mouth is beautiful. Your breasts are
beautiful. Your cunt is beautiful.”
Lola Down, spread wide
I was reading a message Lo received on her phone from
an admirer of the blog.
“A regular Shakespeare, that one,” I said.
“I think it’s sweet,” she responded, as her left hand
began to fondle her pussy lips under the covers.
“Sweet?! He
left out your hair, your nose, your neck, your shoulders, your tum, your ass,
your legs, your feet, and your toes!”
“I’m sure he was going to get there,” she said
matter-of-factly.
“Can I get there?” I asked, sounding a bit desperate
for affection, or her attention.
“Get where?” she asked, playing with me.
“Anywhere.
Between your legs, ideally.”
“Let’s see where this goes,” she said about her
internet friend, unfortunately, and not about my bid for her caress.
“I know where this
goes,” I said, putting her hand on my hard rod.
I was hard because her internet friend had sent a slew of photos of
himself jacking off to her pics and cumming all over them. She looked good in the sexy photos.
“Daddy,” she said, protesting, “I’m busy trying to
please my loyal fans.”
“I don’t mind, as long as you do it while spreading
your legs.”
“I’m spreading the love.”
“Can you spread the love wide enough for me to get in
on it?”
“Your pussy looks pretty and gorgeous,” wrote another
fan.
“It is pretty, gorgeous, wet and waiting to be
filled,” she wrote back.
“Me, me!” I said, “Pick me.”
“Calm down, Daddio,” she said, full of vanity fed by
her fans’ flattery.
“Tell me more about you,” wrote another internet
correspondent.
“Read the books,” typed Lo, “There’s
too much to tell and too many people to tell it to.”
“You’re hard, girl,” responded the inquirer.
“Funny, everyone tells me I’m easy,” quipped Lo, “and
that makes them hard.”
“I love your stories,” wrote one female fan.
“H.H. writes. I
inspire,” wrote Lo to her.
“Do you inspire with your body?”
“And my wit.”
“I’m inspired right now!” I said to Lo as I grabbed my
cock firmly. “They all are cumming to
you. Can I cum to you?”
“Cum to, on, in, with, over, under, around, beside – I
provide the pussy. You pick the
preposition,” she said, dismissively.
I got up on my knees and stood over her, jacking my
cock.
“Just don’t cum on my phone,” she said as she
continued to scroll through her contacts.
She continued to fondle herself beneath me for a while
before she said, “Daddio, lie down next to me.
I’ll help you.”
I lay down and she grabbed me by my shaft. “I’m your righthand man,” I said as she jacked
me off with her right and scrolled with her left.
“My wife is nothing like you,” wrote one desperate,
sad husband.
“You two should
read our blog together. It would open up
her mind. . . and pussy.”
“I could never
suggest it,” he wrote, “she’d freak!”
“But you like it?”
asked Lo.
“God yes,” he
sighed through the medium of type.
“Tell me what a young, sexy, slutty person such as
myself does for you.”
“I’d love to eat your yummy, sloppy, used, cum-filled
holes,” he wrote.
“Another bard!” I opined sarcastically.
“Shut up and cum,” commanded Lo as she tugged more
aggressively.
“Are you in a rush?” I asked.
“Both hands are full,” she said, “leaving nothing for
my snatch.”
“I’ll happily fill that gap.”
“You stay right where you are,” she ordered.
“Has she ever caught you jacking off?” wrote Lo to her
married man.
“No. It would
be a big deal if she did. It would be an
even bigger deal if she caught me jacking off to you and not to porn.”
“I am porn,” protested Lo.
“I mean, it’s one thing to get off to anonymous,
vacuous, impersonal, professionally produced porn and it’s quite another thing
to get off to you.”
“That’s more like it,” responded Lo.
“That’s it, I’m getting up and out of bed,” I said.
“But nooooo.”
“Yes. You’re
just treating my cock like it a joystick to your favorite video game.”
“A game I always win.”
She continued stroking.
“Are you into length or girth?” asked her internet
interloper.
“I’m into cock.
And cock gets into me.”
“Once again, I must protest!” I said. “You’ve got a very capable, compatible, and
coveted cock right here, but you’re not letting it into you!”
“What, ole man, my right hand isn’t enough for you?”
“Not when you’re teasing those guys about how fast and
loose you like to play.”
A new fan chimed in, “I
have to stop sinning. I’m religious,
that’s why I can’t go on doing this.”
“Sex is
spiritual. And I’m a sex goddess. Worship at my alter,” replied Lo.
“Now you’re
offering theology lessons?” I chided.
“No. Just encouraging them to be good
semenarians.”
“That was
terrible. Low hanging fruit,” I replied.
She cupped
my testicles and said, “Very low hanging.”
“Oh, does your wit never cease?!”
Now
she squeezed my balls to show me that I had better be careful about mocking
her.
Another
woman asked Lo if she liked taboo tales.
To which Lo responded, “How
taboo are we talking here?”
The woman said she was into watersports and bestiality.
Lo wrote back, “Let’s knot.”
“Don’t you mean. . . oooooh, I get it,” I said.
“Woof!” she said to me.
The woman, whose name was Mila Beijne., went on to tell a little story.
I was a model a
few years back and after doing a shoot I was talking a bit with the
photographer, the lighting guy and his assistant. They invited me to their home. I trusted them and liked them. We were all horny and I was willing, I admit. At the photographer’s home we had some drinks
and then they slowly undressed me. They
got naked too. They were all good looking men and one was really hung. They
kissed me everywhere and started fucking me in my mouth, pussy, and ass. I was very horny. After quite a long time,
they changed positions, each taking a different hole. Then they rotated again and fucked me a long
time again till I was exhausted. They
filled me up in every place they could. But
the fun was not over yet. One put me on
the floor and the other started urinating over me. Then the other two joined in.
It was a lot and all over my body and in
my long hair. There was no shower, so it
was a special experience driving home.
It was my first time doing that and I liked how the act showed their dominance
over me.
Mila asked to be included.Mila B. through the years
I could see Lo getting increasingly more excited as she read the short little story from Mila. She quickly wrote back, “Yeah, HH does that to me. I love it. Being below him, feeling his warm stream flow over my back and butt.”
“We haven’t done that in a while,” I
reminded her.
She ignored me because another fan
had written to her. This guy was
old. I mean, like twenty years older
than I and I’m in my 50’s! His name was
Bob and he wrote:
Hi Lola, and thank you!
You are an inspiration to me. I
hope you can give me some advice.
I’m in my 70’s and I’ve been in a relationship for over 25 years. No passion or sex for the last 20 years. I’m at a loss as it has become impossible to
talk about it with her. I’ve made the
mistake of combining our lives and living situations this whole time. It has become all about her for the last
several years. I feel I’m too old to
begin another relationship with a woman, yet I still admire all women and all
that I see on your blog. I’ve even
become curious about men as I feel that may be the only way to explore my
unresolved sexual fantasies. Yet I’m
still conflicted as I long for an intimate relationship that I’ve missed in my
life.
Do you have any suggestions??
Lola wrote back, “To tell you the truth, Bob, I’m just good wanking material, but I’m not a sex coach or a sex therapist. You might want to check out one of these trained professionals to get some expert advice on having more sex with spirit.” She provided a link. Then she added, “But if you’re looking for a real hotwife, cum to me.”
“What?!” I said to her, shocked that
she’d even offer that to him.
She ignored me and
typed, “I have a very soft spot for old married men whose wives no longer have
sex with them. Would you like to see
it?”
Of course he said
yes. Lo sent him a naughty pic of the
place between her legs that she was denying to me.
“Lo, that’s just
cruel!” I said.
“What? Soon you’re going to be that old and you’d
want the same from me. Wouldn’t you?”
“What’s cruel is
that I’m that old man who is being denied right now!”
“If what I’m
giving you isn’t good enough, then take matters into your own hands,” she
said.
As
she said it, another married man was singing her praises in a message that
read, “I’ve come to worship your holy holes.”
“See,”
she said, “I’ve got fans who know how to woo me.”
“Woo
you? They worship you!”
“What’s
the difference?”
After
some flirtatious back-and-forth, Lo asked to see a pic of the man’s wife.
He
asked why she wanted to see that and Lo responded, “I like to see who I’m
beating out when guys are beating off to me.”
The
guy sent a photo. His wife was
beautiful. But apparently she lacked the
‘personality’ of Lo. He wanted to know
more about Lo and he asked her questions.
“I’m
like an open book, there for anyone to read,” she responded, “You just have to
know where to find me. Are you familiar
with the Dewey Decimal system?”
“Like, in the library?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I can find you in my local
library?”
“If only,” wrote Lo, “I’m indexed
under XXX.”
“As in 30?” he wrote with a winkface
emoji. “Still pretty young.”
“Pretty, young, and slutty. I’ll tell you what, you can virtually finger
my folios at: mysexlifewithlola.com,” she said, “and you can also buy the books
there. I suggest you get a few copies of
each and donate the extras to your local library so everyone can spread my
centerfold for free.”
As Lo was typing, she guided my cock
to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the tip. She looked up at me as her hand continued to glide
back and forth from the base to her mouth.
I began to cum and she hungrily held me in place so as not to spill a
drop. I was so worked up that I couldn’t
control my convulsions. I began
breathing deep, heavy breaths. Lo looked
up at me and said, “What?! Are you having
a stroke?”
When I finally managed to catch my breath, I looked
down at her and said, “Yeah, I’m having a stroke. A really good stroke.”
Lo
wrote a final line to her fans: “Good night all you kinky sexy rogues. Dream of me in your debauched nocturnal
thoughts.”
She put her phone down, grabbed her Hitachi, lay back,
shut her eyes, and began vibrating until she was the one violently convulsing,
squirting, and gasping for air.
When she was done and had removed the Magic Wand from
between her legs, she grabbed my hand and placed it on her bare pussy for me to
feel how wet she was. She’s proud that
she can turn on the tap almost at will.
“Pull my pussy lips, Daddy,” she said. I stretched them. “Harder.”
I pulled more. “Harder Daddy,”
she complained.
“Lo, if I pull them any further they’ll be down to
your knees.”
“Try it,” she said.
She likes the pain or pleasure.
As I pulled I asked her, “What were you thinking about when you came?”
“I think about you.”
This line from her was as false as Marlow telling Kurtz’s
betrothed that Kurtz’s last words were her name.
“OK, that’s enough of that,” I said, calling
bullshit. “What did you really think about?”
“I think about you,” she said. “And I think about cock. I think about a lot of cock.”
“That’s it?”
“And pussy.”
I gave up there knowing that the
litany of licentious thoughts could go on endlessly. I sat silently and she mistook my silence for
judgment.
“You don’t know
what it’s like to be me!” she blurted out defensively.
“Oh yeah, you’ve
got it so hard,” I said sarcastically.
“I wish,” she said
even more sarcastically as she lifted up my flaccid member in her hand.
“You know,” I said, “your porn persona and your
personality are not consistent.”
“What are you talking about?”
“All those people out there thinking you’re a
nymphomaniac, thinking that I am so inundated with your pussy that I barely can
find a moment’s peace, yet the reality is that you denied me just now.”
“There’s no inconsistency.”
“How not?”
“Because I know you’re going to write about this and
so it will be part of my porn persona.”
