A.O.L.

Posted on March 28, 2020 by Lola Down

After the long day at the lake and the suggestive movie, when Lo and Lily went to bed that night, Lo got up the guts to ask Lily, “What did you mean when you told me that lying out in the sun naked here is no different than being naked in front of your dad?”

Lily laughed a little and said, “You know we’re French, right?”

“You mean, like French French? I mean, born there?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I thought I mentioned it.”

“Well, you might have said in passing that your family is French, but I thought that was a few generations ago.”

“No, my dad and his brother Collin came here just before I was born, like twenty-three years ago or so.”

“But they have no accent!”

“Their parents were diplomats and they were raised half in America and half in France. But even in France, they went to the American School.”

“Oh.”

“And your mom?”

“My mom is from D.C. My dad met her when he was at the French Embassy here.”

“Oh.”

“So, in France we always vacation in the south and it’s pretty much all nude beaches there. That’s all I meant by that. Nothing kinky.”

“Oh, I see. And so Collin was just interested in Blue is the Warmest of Color because he’s French and it’s a French movie?”

“Probably,” she snickered. “That, and he’s a horny fuck.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He is! Haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, he has been showing me a lot of attention.”

“A lot of attention?! Come on, Lo! You know that there’s something between you two.”

Lo blushed and admitted, “OK, I know he wants me, but what about your Aunt Suzanne? I mean, she’s got to know something’s up.”

“I think that they have an understanding,” she said with a knowing, mysterious smile.

“What makes you think that?”

“I have my ways,” said Lily, delighting in the unspoken.

“Do you think that Collin is trying to encourage you and me to play?”

Lily said nothing.

“Or me and Suzanne?”

Lily again said nothing.

“Come on Lily! You have to have some take on it. I mean, if you know that they have an understanding, you must have some idea what Collin’s up to with that porno film he showed us.”

“Lo! It wasn’t a porno film. It won tons of awards!”

“It was porn and he meant for us to view it that way.”

“It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“I’m not denying that,” said Lo, who was simultaneously and unconsciously playing with her pussy beneath the covers, “but paint drying turns me on. I want to know what Collin’s plan is? What’s he scheming?”

Lo leaned toward Lily, who was sitting on the bed not far from Lo, and Lo said in a whisper, “Or did you suggest the movie?”

“Meeeee?” squealed Lily, playing innocent. “I didn’t. Why? Do you want to seduce me?”

“Do you want me to seduce you? To finger you the way those two girls did?”

“Oh no,” said Lily, to Lo’s great disappointment.

“No?” repeated Lo in disbelief. She’s not used to being turned down.

“No fingering me. No. I’m A-O-L.”

“What?”

“Anal Only Lifestyle.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what it says. I only do anal.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’ve never met anyone who only did anal. I mean, I’ve met lots of people who swear never to do anal, but not the other way around.”

“Well, I’m not only French, I’m also Catholic.”

Lo laughed. “What’s that have to do with anything?”

“A lot! You see, the Church teaches that sex before marriage is wrong.”

“You didn’t buy that B.S., did you?”

“I did! And before I was married, I tried to be a good girl.”

“But anal sex,” Lo began to say, putting the pieces together.

“Anal sex isn’t sex, and so, I was a good little anal slut in high school. I never had sex – according to the Church – but I had lots of loads up my ass. I grew to really like it. No, to love it. And so, even now, it’s only anal for me, even though I’m married.”

“Really?!” asked Lo in disbelief.

“I’m still, technically, a virgin.”

“How’s Jim feel about that?” asked Lo with deep curiosity.

“Oh, he’s such a romantic,” she said, almost dismissively. “He wants so badly to take my virginity. But I’ve held off.”

“Why?”

There was a long pause and the conversation turned serious as Lily pondered the simple question.

“I guess,” she began slowly, “I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid he might not like it or. . . maybe I won’t like it. You know how small he is.”

Lo knew very well.

“I guess I prefer that he just keep on banging my backdoor than take a chance on coming in the front.”

Anal Anime

Lola

Hallmark of a Happy Hotwife

Posted on March 19, 2020 by Lola Down

Lola helps her bf cum

Writing is a solitary act. Writing a sex blog is not. Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.

“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.

Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean? Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”

After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic. I love helping couples cum together.”

My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.

A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.

“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.

“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.

“Justin.”

“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”

Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.

“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.

“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”

“What is?”

“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”

“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”

“I recommend you get it hard.”

“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.

“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”

One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him. She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men. The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”

One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.

“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.

“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.

“Do men just want to see your pussy?”

“No,” she said, “women do too.”

“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”

She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“Oooo, what sort of game?”

“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”

“Funny, but no. Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”

“I can’t, I have to get to work.”

“Just bend me over and fill me up.”

“It’s not a Quickie Mart. I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”

“Why not?”

I walked over to her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart. I touched her inner thigh.

“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Then I should be doing you. I wanted you last night,” she said.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”

“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”

“You didn’t say you wanted me.”

“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”

“I like to hear you say it.”

She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed. She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips. “Get back in bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“What do you want?”

“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”

I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit. “OK.”

She fondled me more. “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”

“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”

“Fuck me.”

Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”

“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me. I’m always open.”

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a lot of things to do. You were just first on the list.”

I went to work. It was her “work at home” day. Yeah, right.

When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.

“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said. “Feed me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your meat.”

This was as close as a request as I was going to get. I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her. I reached down between her legs.

“You’re sopping wet.”

“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”

“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.

“I jilled it this morning.”

“Without me?!” Again, faux-surprise.

“I got lonely.”

“Lonely or horny?”

“Both.”

“So you jilled it all morning?”

“Not all morning. It went into the afternoon.”

“And you still want me now?”

“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.

“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”

“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”

“What do you think this is, golf?”

“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”

“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.

I was poised to penetrate her. She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit. She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.” Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that. Yes.” Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”

I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you. I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”

“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my lunch. That’s what I came home to do.”

“But what about me?” she whined.

“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”

“And diddling my bean!”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”

“Don’t go!” she pleaded.

“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”

“Get in the bed and fuck me.”

“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”

“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”

“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.

“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”

“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”

I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.

I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”

It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”

“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling out. “I’m going to go out for lunch.”

I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.

I popped back in and looked at her.

“Unarmed?” I asked.

Another pillow flew at me. I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.

Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”

“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”

“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”

I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”

When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.

“It’s not a sundress. It’s a shirt.”

“Well, it should be a sundress. What an ass! You look great in that sundress!”

“It’s not a sundress!”

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“No. But I think it’s cute that you want to.”

“You look so good. Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”

When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.

“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up. Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.

“What?”

“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”

“Robert?! Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I should have told you.”

“When did these plans happen?”

“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.

“Lo.”

“After you left. I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”

“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.

“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.

“No,” I said. “I’m tired and I’m hungry. I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”

“That still might happen,” she said. “The night is young.”

“And I’m old.”

“You can say that again.”

“And I’m old.”

“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”

“You weren’t even born then.”

“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you. I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you. You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”

I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.

Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.

“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.

“Did you jack off to it at work?”

“No!”

“Well why not? You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know. A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work. I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”

“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”

“Precisely.”

“But I can fuck you at home.”

“It’s not the same.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Robert was at the door.

“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.

“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.

“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”

“Not longer than an hour?”

“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”

I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out. “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.

Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”

I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table. No Robert.

She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.

One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”

“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’ You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”

“That’s funny,” she said to me.

“Shake a stick at?”

“Yeah.”

“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her. “How was your dinner date?”

She didn’t answer my question. She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.

She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me. She clearly wanted me to fuck her. But I wanted her to ask. She said, “You have to learn to intuit. Intuit! Intuit!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face. Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.

She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.

A breathy moan.

She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.

She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.

“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”

“Well, I think you need to take a break.”

“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”

“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”

“It enhances the experience.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.

She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.

She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife. “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”

“Such a sincere sentiment. It should go in a Hallmark card.”

“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.

“What is?”

“A line of Lola greeting cards.”

“Perhaps you could create them. I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”

And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s quite alright. Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm. Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”

“I’m sorry!” she said again.

“It’s ok. I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”

“It was hardly premature,” she said.

She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before. Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.

“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy imagining her with Robert.

“Did you get a good meal? Did it fill you up? I was so full up,” she said.

I was speechless.

“Were you thinking of me, Daddy? Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me? Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”

“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”

“No, Daddy. We just fucked. He bent me over the table and fucked me. Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table. The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs. I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all. Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass. Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another. He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care. I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet. Fuck me! Fuck my holes! I said, but he came and came deep in me. He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”

She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum. And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously. So much that it came out of her nose. She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.

“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.” I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”

Lola’s Christmas Card

Quiver

Posted on December 15, 2019 by Lola Down

[Continued from “Black Friday: A Juicy Story Before Brunch”

The day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Miami Beach. Lo was on a mission. This was our third day in Miami. Seventy-two hours of glorious sunny days, short-shorts, and sex. And, in typical Lo fashion, she wanted more of all three.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked.

“I thought we were having sex,” she said as she sat on the side of the bed wearing only her sexy tank-top T-shirt and spreading her legs.

“Sex for breakfast?”

“Yeah, we’ll call it ‘Sex-fest.’”

“But Lo, you just came twice.”

“That was all external stimulation. It just makes me more hungry.”

“Hungry for breakfast?” I asked, since I was starving.

“No, hungry for your cock in my cunt.”

“It’s not even 9 a.m. and you’re using that sort of language?!”

“It’s never too early to speak a Romance Language.”

“You forget, I was in the Romance Languages department at my college. They didn’t speak like that.”

“Illiterate.”

“We could discuss the nuances of philology all morning, but. . .”

“But I want you to fuck me. Please. Just a quick in-and-out is all I need.”

“Fine,” I said and I puled my shorts down around my knees.

The hotel room bed was only a full; much smaller than we were used to. I said to her, “There better be a spot for me in that bed cause I’m getting in it.”

“Oh, I’ve got a spot for you and you definitely are going to get in it.”

She turned over and scrunched up her body into a little ball on the bed, exposing her puss and ass to me.

“Just go right in,” she said over her shoulder, as if I needed some instructions.

“Top or bottom?” I asked.

“Top or bottom?” she was confused.

“Yeah, which hole?”

“Which do you want?” she asked seductively, surprising me.

“Top!” I said without hesitation.

“Well, fill the bottom first and, if you’re good, you can have the top.”

Lola & HH

Standing by the side of the bed, I slid in with ease and she moaned. She was drenched and dripping. “Stay. Right. There,” she commanded. I didn’t even move. I just grabbed her by her hips and lifted her a little then pushed her down a little. Up and down, up and down I slid her on my cock. My thumb moved its way to her top hole to press against it. Within seconds her cunt was gushing and clenching. I pulled her in closer by her hips to make sure I stayed in place; the tip of my cock up against her g-spot. She didn’t even scream. She just bit her lower lip and moaned. I could see her facial expressions and contortions in the mirror. In a few more seconds she pulled forward and, as I slid out of her, she squirted. I was careful to jump back and avoid getting splashed.

“Ahhhh,” she said, “that did the trick.”

She was splayed out on the bed now, breathing heavily. I stood next to the bed.

“This isn’t a coat rack,” I said of my erect phallus.

“What?” she asked, perplexed.

“You promised me the top hole, remember?”

“Oh, right!”

She scrunched up into her little ball again, wiggling her ass in front of me. “Can you hit the target?” she teased.

“Stay still and my arrow will fill your quiver.”

I grabbed her hips again and pressed the full head of my cock up against her sphincter. Her flower bud opened. Slowly I filled her. I could see her hands out in front of her clutching the bed sheets as she felt the pain and pleasure of my deep dive.

Again she commanded, “Stay. Right. There.” Her ass clenched down on me and her body turned the noun, “quiver,” into a verb.

Suddenly she lunged forward, just like she did before, leaving me hard up, standing by the side of the bed a second time as she caught her breath.

Turning her head over her shoulder, she said, “Amazing, Daddio!”

Then, noticing me pulling up my shorts, she said, “Aren’t you going to cum?”

“Darling, thirty seconds of standing behind you, rigid as a statue, while you got your rocks off was exclusively for your pleasure.”

“But I want you to cum.” She turned around, on all fours, facing me, or rather, my crotch. She looked up at me and asked, “Don’t you know what Cyndi Lauper says?”

“Cyndi Lauper?! You’re dating yourself dear.”

“Oh, I wish I could date myself. I’d be such a good fuck.”

“You’re getting distracted again. What does Cyndi Lauper say?”

“Oh, right. She sings, ‘Girls just wanna have cum. That’s all they really want – some cum.’” She sang the lyrics.

Girls Just Wanna Have Cum

“I think you might be taking some poetic license with that.”

“Whatever. Cum in my mouth,” she commanded as she took my cock into her open mouth and slobbered over it with her tongue.

“And spoil your appetite?” I asked, enjoying the sensation and the thought of what a dirty, slutty girl she is.

“It’s more of an appetizer.”

“No,” I said flatly, pulling out of her mouth.

She pouted.

“I’m starving,” I said. “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to waste away.”

She rolled her eyes sarcastically – as if I was in any mortal danger of wasting away.

“What?” I asked. “Look at me,” I said, striking a pose, flexing my biceps, “One hundred seventy-five pounds of pure muscle!”

“One hundred and seventy-five?!” Lo exclaimed in disbelief, “Aren’t you a few pounds off there?”

“No. It is a hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle. The other thirty pounds might be fat, but under it is the pure muscle.”

“Still a little shy of the mark, I think.”

“Well, the other ten pounds is brain, of course.”

“Of course,” she said sardonically.

I stepped on the scale and cursed it saying, “You lying sack of shit!”

Lo, naked but for her T-shirt, stepped on the scale after me and said, “It better not be lying, it says I lost two pounds!”

“It lies.”

“Does it? Or could it be that my diet and exercise and drinking plenty of liquids has caused me to lose two pounds?”

“It lies.”

“Why would it lie to me that I lost two pounds and lie to you that you. . . well, uh, you’re. . . ?”

“Because it likes the view it has of you from down there.”

She laughed. She almost never laughs at my jokes, but I suppose this one also appealed to her vanity. I love it when she laughs.

“Do you like the view?” she asked, bending over and looking at me from between her knees.

“I don’t know why they call it mooning when it looks as bright and pink as the sunrise to me,” I said. “But as pretty as you are, morning glory, can we please go get breakfast?”

“Sure,” she said as she slipped into her bikini bottoms. “How do these look?”

It was a very skimpy pink thong bikini bottom that she purposely pulled up extra tight.

I gave her a cat-call whistle and launched into a sing-song limerick:

Do your labia hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
Can you throw ’em o’er your shoulder
Like a continental soldier?
Do your labia hang low?

“What?!” she asked, looking down between her legs.

“Look in the mirror,” I gestured.

She took a look and could see what I saw: her puffy pussy lips straddling the skinny g-string. She’s very self-conscious of her large labia.

“Ah, fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissing my concern. She walked up to me and, seeing that I had pitched a tent in my shorts, she sang back:

Does your cock stand high?
Does it reach up to the sky?
Does it droop when it’s wet?
Does it stiffen when it’s dry?
Can you wave it at your neighbor
With an element of flavor?
Does your dick stand high?

“Touché,” I said.

“Tushie?” she asked, turning around and showing me her bottom again.

I smacked it hard and said, “That’s for being tardy.”

We finally got in the rental car and I let Lo drive. Lo being Lo, she blasted the radio and “I’m Real” by Ja Rule happened to be on, pounding the bass of the speakers to the chorus:

-Cause I’m real-
The way you walk
The way you move
The way you talk
-Cause I’m real-
The way you stare
The way you look
Your style your hair
-Cause I’m real-
The way you smile
The way you smell
It drives me wild
-Cause I’m real-
And I can’t go on without you

Lo was contentedly squirming in her leather bucket seat to the beat of the music.

“Can you shut that damn music off?!” I complained.

“You know, you sound like an old man when you say that.”

“You know, I am an old man.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just sad to think about.”

“Well, if you want to break up with me, go right ahead.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“No. You said that it’s ‘sad’ to think about me being an old man.”

“It is! I mean, I’m not even at the great hump of my life yet.”

“I thought I was the great hump of your life.”

“I should hope not.”

“What?!”

“What I mean is, I’m not over the hill yet.”

“I should hope not.”

“What does that mean?”

“It simply means, that at twenty-something, you still have some great humps to look forward to.”

“And you don’t?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m looking forward to humping you in about five minutes.”

“Why so long?”

“So long? Is five minutes too much to wait for you youngins these days?”

“Five minutes is like two and a half news cycles.”

“Well, here’s some breaking news: the best is yet to come.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause I love cumming.” She pulled up to the curb. “Here we are. Where are you going to fuck me?”

“Well, I need nourishment first. Let’s eat,” I said as we got out of the convertible and went to the hostess stand on the sidewalk. We were seated at a quaint table outside with a view of Ocean Boulevard and the beach across the street. Pretty people were walking by and fancy cars were cruising slowly to see and be seen.

A tricked-out car drove by – shiny, sparkly, loud. Lo was clearly impressed.

She observed it closely and then commented, “The exhaust is merely cosmetic.”

“Just like yours!” I quipped.

She gave me a look of faux shock.

A musclebound fella walked by in a tiny speedo and a loose fitting tank-top.

“Lo, stop drooling. Or at least use a napkin.”

“What?! He’s a very beefy boy. . . and I’m a beefeater,” she said, taking a slow, seductive bite of her sausage.

After breakfast, we walked down the strip and Lo was window shopping, until she was actually shopping. I sat outside sipping my frozen drink. When she came back out, she gave me a t-shirt like the one worn by Mr. Muscles.

“I didn’t know whether to get you a large or an extra large,” she said.

“You should always get me grandiose.”

“To match your ego?”

We walked down to the beach and Lo pulled out of her oversized bag a sheet she stole from the hotel. She spread it out on the sand and then spread herself on top of it. I sat down next to her and began rubbing in the sunscreen on her shoulders. When I was done I said, “I’ll draw on your back with my finger and you tell me what I’m spelling.”

“OK. But where’s the top?”

“Here,” I said, as I scribbled up by her shoulder blades.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she asked as my finger went down between her butt cheeks.

“I’m just seeing where the bottom is. Oh! Look at that. I think I found the ink well.”

“Yeah?! You’re gonna have a broken nub if you keep it up!”

After a bit, she pulled out the deck of cards from her bag and began shuffling them.

“What are you playing?”

“Strip Solitaire.”

“Are you winning or losing?”

“I’ll take off my top and you tell me.”

I scanned the beach to see if any other women were going topless.

“Hey!” she said, “I’m over here!!!”

She thought she saw me looking at some of the other sexy women on the strand.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, teasing her. “So I like looking at them. They’re like boats: I like how they look, but I don’t want to have one.”

“Oh yeah? Like boats? You better watch out that I don’t wash them away with my tsunami.”

“Are you squirting again? I didn’t even see you touch your puss.”

“I don’t need to with all this eye-candy.”

“Oh, so it’s ok for you to look, but not me?”

“Exactly. Next pair of sunglasses I buy you will be blinders.”

With that comment, she left her card game and sauntered into the water. Just at the water’s edge, she turned back to me and called, “Daddio! Aren’t you coming?”

“Not yet,” I called back, “but I will be.”

“What?!” she called.

“I’m not coming!”

She yelled back, “I’ll fix that!” She then turned tail and bent over, revealing her shoelace thin thong. She feigned finding a seashell, but she was just showing off. She eventually walked in the water, sticking out her tongue at me over her shoulder as the waves crested and fell over her hips. Then she dove in.

When she returned from the cool dip, she asked, “What do you think of my hair?” as it dripped from its curls down her breasts.

“You look just like Medusa.”

“That’s not a compliment. Wasn’t she so ugly that she turned anyone who looked at her to stone?”

“No no no, that’s not it. What the Greeks meant was any man who saw her got hard as a rock and that’s how I feel about you and your wild, curly hair.”

“Nice save,” she said with a smile as she laid down next to me, getting me all wet.

I had just got comfortable and was engrossed in the book I was reading, The Postmodern Condition, you know, your typical beach read, when she said, “Let’s go for a walk Daddy.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes, Daddio. I want to go find something nice.”

“To wear?”

“To fuck.”

“I’m still available, you know.”

“Available? No you’re not. You’re taken.”

“I’d never know it.”

“You had me this morning.”

“For thirty seconds to help you get your rocks off.”

“So, what the hell are you complaining about?”

“I’d like to get my rocks off.”

“Oh, are your rocks aching?”

“Yes. Yes they are.”

“Follow me. Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

We went for a walk through the dunes to a little wooded park, verdant with scrub pines, palms, and colorful flowers. When we found a little bench, she said to me, “OK, you go over there and just watch.”

“What am I watching for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

I sat diagonally from her, about thirty feet away. I watched as she sat there looking pretty. Guys walked by, mostly couples. But then one muscular black man in a skimpy bathing suit, bulging out of the itty-bitty stretchy material, stopped and asked her a question. She looked up, batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, licking her teeth with her tongue as she looked down, furtively, at his crotch. They began chatting. And then, within not so very long they got up and walked out of sight.

About a half-hour later Lo returned to the spot where I waited for her.

She approached me slowly, with a look of wily satisfaction and mystery about her.

“You can have me now, Daddy. He’s all done.” I noticed jizz covering her clavicle. She grabbed my hand and walked me to the secluded spot where she had just been with the tall, dark stranger.

“Lo,” I said, “What do you mean he’s all done?”

“Well,” she said, “do you want me to act out exactly what we did?”

“Sure.”

She laid down on the bench and began stroking her pussy over her short shorts while I stood over her and looked at her.

“Well, Daddio?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to take out your cock and stroke it? That’s what he did.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you do?”

“What do you think? What should a good girl do when she goes to the park and begins masturbating over her shorts and a tall, dark, hung stranger appears pantless ready to fuck?”

“Did you get his digits?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah, all of them, inside me.”

“Right here?”

“Right here.”

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.

“To a bar. I need a drink.”

Truth was, it was hot. I was thirsty. I was tense. I was irritated. I was horny. And I wasn’t about to start fucking Lola right there in the barely concealed patch of public privacy.

“Wait!” she said. “I have to change first.” She spread her legs and showed me the dark spot covering the crotch of her denim shorts where she apparently squirted.

She popped into the public restroom and a moment later, she popped out wearing just her bikini top and a short skirt.

“Wow!” I said. “You’re like a superhero!”

“Super Squirt!” she pronounced, swinging her shorts around her finger, grabbing me by my arm.

We went to a fancy hotel with a rooftop deck, pool, and bar. This was a new hotel and the rooftop was pretty high up there and it even had a balcony with a glass floor.

Lo walked out and leaned over the railing and said, “Wow! Don’t look down!”

“I’m not,” I said, “I’m lookin’ up – lookin’ up your skirt, that is.” No panties. No bikini thong. Nothing. Just her perfectly shapely and shaved mons pubis.

We then went and sat at the bar where I ordered a Tom Collins. Lo apologized to the bartender for my unfashionable taste in drinks, saying, “I’m sorry, he’s old.”

The bartender chuckled.

For the middle of the day, on a beautiful beach day, the bar was pretty busy. But, I guess for the people who live down there, going to the beach every day loses its allure pretty quickly.

Lo asked me, “You want to see what I saw on the bench?”

“Sure,” I said, not knowing where she was going with this.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo of her with her legs spread and a guy with an elephant trunk hanging down from his crotch standing over her.

The old pervert seated next to Lo at the bar – not me, the guy on the other side of her – looked over Lo’s shoulder out of curiosity.

“Nice shot,” he said.

“Not nearly as nice as when he came on me,” retorted Lo without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” asked Mr. Intrusive.

“Yes, that’s so,” said Lo, followed by, “Oh, how rude of me. HH, this is,” she said, as if introducing an old friend.

“Kip,” he said.

“Kip,” said Lo. “Kip, HH,” she said, introducing us.

I shook his hand over Lo’s lap and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” he said.

He clearly had had a few already. He wore a festive Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, sandals. I’d say he was about 46 and beginning to bald. A bit overweight. Genial smile and friendly – midwestern friendly. Too friendly, you might say.

Lo was in a festive, flirty mood and so she teased and toyed with this guy, telling both him and me what happened with her mystery man down by the beach.

“How very slutty of you,” he said.

“I thought so,” replied Lo proudly.

The guy asked, “Will you be my slut?”

“I’m everyone’s slut. That’s what being a slut is.”

“I don’t know if you could handle me,” said the guy.

“Why not?” asked Lo, defiantly.

“My cock – it’s pretty big and has a lot of girth,” he said.

Lola pulled out her phone and found a photo of her horse cock dildo. “This is one of my toys,” she said. “I can handle any cock. Any human cock, that is.”

The guy was trying to play it cool, but I could see he was intrigued by Lo’s unabashed candor.

What about Lo? She was flirting and teasing, but was she actually into him? I couldn’t tell.

We had a few more drinks and continued chatting. The fella next to us was married, had adult children, older than Lo, and claimed to be in Miami on business. But it was Thanksgiving weekend. Who is in Miami on business?

Lola was waxing rhapsodic about how much she loved Miami – the ocean, the beaches, the restaurants.

The guy interjected, “The orgasms on the boardwalk.”

Lo squirmed in her barstool and pressed her knees together.

She looked at me, embarrassed. I knew what happened.

I said, “You could say, she cums with the territory,” as I feigned spilling my water.

“That’s the worst pun you ever made,” said Lo as she watched me clean up the mess she made under her stool from her perch.

“Really? I’m sure I’ve made worse,” I said, looking up at her, hoping she wouldn’t have another accidental squirting orgasm.

“I’m sorry,” Lo apologized to our new friend, “Dad jokes.”

“I’m a dad,” he said, “no need to apologize.”

Along one side of the pool there were semi-private alcoves with recliners made for two. Lo ordered another drink and suggested we take the one that was recently vacated before someone else got it. She picked up her bag and casually sauntered to her destination.

Mr. Middleage followed her, leaving me to grab (and pay for) our last round.

When I got to the little cabana, Lo was lying down with her Mr. Marriedman next to her. I handed Lo her drink and said I was going for a swim. Her antics were beginning to upset me, if I’m honest.

I got in the warm water and rested up against the side of the pool with my drink in hand, watching Lo and her beau.

She lay with her legs crossed under her skirt. She removed her bikini top. The guy ogled her. They were making small talk. I could practically read Lo’s lovely lips when she said, “That’s ok, you can touch.”

The guy put his hand on Lo’s hip and slowly caressed her. Lo turned over and he put his hand down under her skirt and I could see him touch her bum as she took a sip from her straw.

She rolled on her side, showing him her tits and letting her skirt open in front. She said, “You like what you see?”

He said something I couldn’t make out.

“Are you hard?”

Again, I couldn’t make out the words.

“Jack it,” she commanded.

He pulled a towel over his cargo shorts and reached down. Lo watched him intently.

She loves being the stimulant for sexually starving strangers, the sweet release for men and women who need a focus for their swirling smut-dreams like a mantra for meditation.

She was speaking softly to him, encouraging him, telling him dirty things about her, probably telling him about how she sucked my cock after letting me have her ass that morning.

His head dropped back and he became rigid for a few seconds before crumpling like a suit having all its starch sucked out in one magic moment.

Lo got up and came into the pool. Her skirt billowed behind her in the water. She swam to me and said, “Let’s go, Daddio.”

“Mission accomplished?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. My mission is to make you cum like that,” she said as she grabbed my cock under the water.

We got out and Lo put her top on, and we walked out, both dripping wet, but she in more ways than one.

She blew a good-bye kiss to the man with the mess in his cargo.

Back at the hotel, Lo could hardly wait.

“Did you like everything today, Daddy?” she asked as she lay naked on the bed.

“Most of it,” I said, thinking it over.

“Let’s take a shower,” she said, just as I got out of my clothes and was very ready and eager to have her.

“What? Now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I got sand in my hoo-ha.”

“What did you say?”

“You know, I’m not interested in any pearls in the ole clam.”

“Only you, darling, only you,” I said, amused at her pornographic poetry.

The shower had a small seat built into the back wall of it. She sat on it, spread her legs, looked up at me, and said, “Was I a very bad girl today, Daddy?”

“Yes, yes you were.”

“Was I a dirty little slut?”

“Very much so.”

“Are you mad that I let a man cum on me in public?”

“No, darling.”

“Are you mad that I walked around with his cum on my body all day?”

“Proud of your accomplishment?”

“Oh yeah,” she said.

“Am I terribly disgusting?” she asked.

“Not to me,” I said. I can’t lie.

“Show me, Daddy, that I’m yours,” she said.

I wasn’t sure what she was after.

She reached out and grabbed my cock and held it in her hand.

“You drank a lot at the bar,” she said.

“Not too much. A few drinks.”

“Have you peed even once today, Daddy?”

Now I knew where she was going.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” she said, a certain neediness in her voice.

I closed my eyes, relaxed, and let go.

She shook her tits and spread her legs wide as I drenched her in the warm stream from her chin down to her twat.

“That’s right, Daddy,” she said, “I’m such a slutty, cum-hungry, whore.”

I looked down at her, dripping wet, and said, “Ah, the Fountain of Youth!”

When I was done, we turned on the warm water and took turns washing and worshipping each other.

When we finally got in bed she said, “Use me, Daddy. Use me however you want. Treat me like your little fuck-doll.”

I had her on the bed just like I did in the morning. I slid in her puss only briefly and then went back to her other hole, filling her from tip to balls.

“Mmmmm, yes. Hold me down. I like that. Slap my ass. Slap my puss. Slap me. Hold me down. Hurt me. Make it hurt! Make me yours again, Daddy. I’ve been so bad today. I just want to be yours. Yours. Make me stop whoring around town. Make me good again. Make me so sore I can’t even walk. Make me stop searching for cock. Make me good again.” She went on like that the entire time I fucked her until I was nearly ready to cum – finally after a full day of teasing and edging, watching her degrade herself for me and for others, in private and in public. Finally, I was ready to explode with all that pent-up jealousy, desire, rage, ravage, revenge, lust, love, and “Lo!” I called out as I was about to erupt.

She quickly hopped off my rod and spun around, opening her mouth wide and accepting the offering I emitted like a parched nomad in the desert desirous of every last drop of life-giving liquid. She wrapped her mouth around my cock and sucked, encouraging me to continue cumming until I could stand no more.

I fell down on the bed next to her and immediately lost consciousness, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Thank You Daddy

Schrödinger’s Pussy

Posted on November 14, 2019 by Lola Down

“Lily texted me,” I texted to Lola, “and she invited me to meet her at the bar to watch the World Series.” It was the seventh game. She was hoping to see her team win. “Do you want to join?”

“Will Jim be there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nah,” Lola texted, “I’ll stay in.”

I walked into the crowded watering hole after a long day at work. Lily, was sitting at the bar, close to the TV. To my surprise, she had saved me a stool next to her. She gave me a hug and turned toward me. Despite the cold October air, she was wearing only a short skirt and a thin, loose fitting blouse. Her legs were spread a bit as she talked to me.

“Where’s Jim?” I inquired.

“He’s with some of his friends watching at their house.”

“You didn’t want to join them?”

I could see that she hadn’t invited me there just to watch the game. She was already on her second drink of the night. What was on her mind?

After just a little prodding (it didn’t take much), she revealed her true design. She was looking for some free legal advice and simultaneously looking for some special attention.

She had recently graduated and got her Master’s in Sexuality and Gender Studies. Now she was looking to do something with that degree and was interested in becoming a “Sex and Spirit Guide” to individuals and couples. The question on her mind was, “If my therapeutic techniques involve hands-on help and I accept money for it, what’s the legal distinction between that and prostitution?”

It was a real zinger of a query – one that they don’t ask you in law school! And my first inclination was to say, “I’m not sure I follow. Could we please go back to your place and you can provide me with a demonstration in order that I understand what you do a little better?” But I wisely withheld that request, which was purely for the academic purpose of gaining clarity, and I asked instead, “So you envision digitally manipulating and stimulating your clients?”

“Well, not only that, but possibly role-playing, BDSM experimenting, discovering their inhibitions through play therapy – you know, taking them on a real sexual and spiritual journey to the seat of their soul.”

“Wow!” I said, “It sounds very Jungian.” Once more the images of Sabina Spielrein and Carl Jung came to mind.

“Yeah, this morning I had a professional photographer come to take some risqué photos to advertise my services.”

I got lost in my imagination as I envisioned the scene, but she continued. “And Jim even joined for some of them.”

“Oooh,” I cooed, “Boudoir photos?”

“Some were,” she replied alluringly. She began to pull out her phone as if ready to show me the raw, unedited shots. I wanted to look. I wanted to tell her all about the blog. I wanted to divulge everything. But I knew better. First, it’s Lo’s secret to reveal, not mine. That has always been the rule. Second, I’ve learned that letting on to the blog to people who are in the blog creates a Schrödinger’s Pussy situation – where the knowledge of being observed contaminates the observation.

Again I got lost in my thoughts.

She was clearly trying to attract my attention. She regained it as she unlocked her phone. I fumbled for my words a bit and said something stupid like the answer to her legal question would take some research. “A deep dive,” I remember saying.

“If you could advise me,” she said, playing the role of the helpless dancer in need of a savior, “I’d appreciate it so much. I want to heal people, not get arrested.”

Her allusion to consequences kept me in check and I soon paid my tab and said a friendly farewell to her, looking forward to going home to my sweet slutwife.

I got in late. I found Lola in bed, almost asleep, Stoya on my pillow.

“What’s this?” I asked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said. “Come to bed. I’ll explain.”

I removed my clothes, washed up, and got in bed. She was on the verge of sleep. I moved Stoya to the nightstand.

“I’m all ears. . . and a penis,” I said.

She rolled over toward me. “I was bad,” she began. I could have figured that. “I was thinking of Heather and Erin and all the other women I’ve been with. I was feeling like being with a woman tonight.”

“So you took out Stoya?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I tried a little experiment,” she said.

“Schrödinger’s Pussy,” I muttered under my breath, recalling my conversation of earlier in the evening.

“What?”

“Nothing. Continue.”

“I fingered myself a bit, rubbed some of my girly juice on her lips, fingering her, and put her over my clit. I fucked her pussy with my clit.”

“Did you cum?”

“Many times. It really does feel pretty realistic.”

She hugged me and asked, “Are you mad?”

“No. But I take it you didn’t wash her properly when done.”

“Sorry Daddy.”

I got out of bed and performed the recommended cleaning to Stoya’s pussy and then hung her out to airdry.

When I got back into bed, Lo was sound asleep on her tum. I was on my back. My right hand caressed her back. Then her lower back. Then the roundness of her rump. Then between her legs. I could feel how wet she was still. My fingers circled around her pussy, becoming soaked. I then slid one finger back and did circles around her other special spot. Slowly, gently, furtively, I dipped in, just a bit. No response. Then a bit more. Lo’s ass raised slightly. A little more. She either consciously or unconsciously elevated her hips. She looked like an inchworm as my finger wormed its way into her bum.*

Then a moan. Then a sigh. Then a “Daddy, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, Lo. Sleep.”

I was in up to my first knuckle. I went deeper. And deeper. And then added a finger. Her ass indicated it liked what it was getting. It was completely relaxed and open to exploration.

And then, without warning, it seized up on my fingers. It clenched like a vice and I heard Lo’s breathing accelerate. After only a few seconds it was over. I pulled my fingers out. She was back to sleep. I was hard-up.

“There’s always Stoya,” I thought.

* See the story, “Sin-esthesia” in which Lo gives her “blanket consent” to being fucked while asleep.

Absolution

Posted on October 29, 2019 by Lola Down

[Continued from “Holding on Comes Easy“]

Last I remembered, Lo had engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between Robert and me. When I woke in the morning, she was sound asleep, her back toward me, and Robert had his hands around her waist. I was turned toward them, my arm drooped over her side, my hand fondling her breast, and my cock rigid and eager for more attention.

I carefully extricated myself from the bed, found a robe and quietly went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

As I sat down to take my first sip, Lo suddenly appeared in the kitchen wearing one of Roberts t-shirts and nothing else. She was carrying a bundle of clothes.

“Here,” she said, passing the clothes off to me.

“And a good morning to you too,” I said sarcastically.

“Get dressed.” They were my clothes.

“What?”

“Get dressed. You have to get out of here.”

I was perplexed. “What do you mean I. . .”

“Imogen is still sleeping. When she wakes up, she can’t find you here. Remember, she thinks I’m Robert’s girlfriend and you’re just Robert’s friend. You have to go home.”

“Are we still putting on that little ruse?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, why don’t I just crawl into bed with Imogen?”

Lo gave me an angry look.

“Ok, Ok,” I said. “I’ll get dressed and go.”

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek to show her appreciation. “Don’t worry, Daddy,” she said, “I will make it up to you.”

My cock must have liked her tone because it immediately popped up like a little puppy who just heard the treats bag open.

“Nope, none of that now,” said Lo curtly, before turning tail and returning to the bedroom with Robert.

I dutifully got dressed and went home to shower, have more coffee, and nurse my hangover.

Sometime later I got a call from Lo. She sounded out of breath.

“Lo?”

Pause. “Yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

Pause. “Yeah.”

“Are you at Robert’s?”

Pause. “Yeah.”

“Are you fucking?”

“Yes, Daddy, he’s behind me, fucking my ass now. What would you like us to do next?”

I won’t deny that I was titillated by the call, but I was also furious. I was home, hard-up and hungover, while she was being banged by her backdoor man.

“I want you to tell me you love me.”

Long pause. “I – I – I love you, Daddy,” I heard.

I put the phone down for a moment and hurriedly grabbed my Stoya Fleshlight, some lube, and picked up the phone again. Lo was screaming. I could hear Robert smacking her ass.

“Daddy, I love you,” she repeated.

I slid the prosthetic vagina down on my cock. I held the phone with my left hand and slid the contraption up and down with my right. I listened to Lo getting fucked. She was calling out, “Harder. Harder. Deeper. Cum in my ass. Cum deep in my ass.” As she was saying that, I thought of how Robert came in her mouth after fucking her ass yesterday.

“Daddy,” she said into the phone, “I want him to cum in my ass. Do you want him to cum in my ass too?”

My eyes were shut. I was vividly imagining her bent over his dresser, Robert behind her, looking at her tits swinging in the mirror as he fucked her from behind. I pictured her left hand holding the phone to her ear and her right hand moving back to her ass, pulling her right cheek to spread as wide as she could go for him to bury his long dick in her bum. Maybe she was fingering her hole as well.

I heard her ramping up, going into the overture to her orgasm.

I slid Stoya’s cunt up and down more vigorously and I could feel my cuckolded cum rising to the surface. Lo launched into her operatic aria and I could hold out no longer. I came and came deep inside Stoya as Robert came deep inside Lola.

A perfect triple play!

After we all were able to bask in the beauty of the trifecta, Lo stayed on the phone with me as Robert went to clean up.

“Did you like that, Daddy?” she asked.

“You. Are. Amazing,” was all I could say.

“Do you like seeing him make me cum, Daddy?”

“I didn’t see you,” I said, confused.

“I meant yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You’re a dirty, dirty girl.”

“Am I bad?”

I changed the topic, fearing she’d get all riled up again. “Is Imogen still there?” I asked.

“Oh her? No. She woke up, I think a little embarrassed and very hungover, and we called her a cab. She only had fragments of memory from last night, but she asked me to say something nice to you.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“She really just said, ‘Say something nice to him.’”

I laughed and she did too. Apparently all was forgiven. Nothing absolves me of my transgressions like Lola’s seducing men to sodomize her.

Feed it to Me

Posted on October 12, 2019 by Lola Down

Faye Danielles Getting Off to Lo’s Pics

“I’m having a dinner party on Friday,” said Robert to Lo as he was about to depart from one of his rendezvous romps with Lo in our bedroom. She was standing naked in the hallway and I was opposite her, fully dressed, holding a tumbler of whiskey. Robert was between us, but facing Lo. “I was hoping you both would come,” he continued as he turned to me.

Lo walked up to him, a sparkle in her eye, and grabbed his arm. “That sounds like fun,” she said, without even consulting me or my calendar. “Who’ll be there?”

“It’s a group of colleagues from Australia. They’re here for a conference and my department nominated me to welcome them.”

“Australia!” Lo exclaimed. “I love going down under.”

“You’ve never been there,” I said, without thought to her double-entendre.

“I can’t wait,” she said without regard for my remark. “What time is the party?”

“I’ve invited people for seven,” he said, and before he could say any more Lo interrupted.

“We’ll come over at five! I love party planning!”

“But. . .” stammered Robert. “I was just inviting you to. . .”

Lo grabbed his arm and said, “A bachelor like you needs help throwing a party. Trust me. It takes a woman’s touch.” She leaned in closer to him and kissed him, her naked body pressed against his clothes as her left hand reached down and stroked his cock over his pants. “We’ll see you at five.”

Robert turned, nodded to me, and left in a rush, slightly embarrassed perhaps.

Friday Lo left work early and spent time at home getting all dolled up. By the time I walked through the door, she was wearing her black pumps, her short black skirt, and a low cut, tight fitting blouse. Her red lipstick stood out against all the black.

“Hi Daddio!” she said, “I thought you’d never get home. Are you ready to go?”

“I guess,” I said.

“Oh no,” she replied, looking me over. “You can’t go like that. Here, let me dress you.”

She led me to the bedroom where she promptly picked out exactly what she wanted me to wear.

“No, not that. I can’t stand that shirt,” I said.

“It looks great on you.”

“It’s too constricting.”

“We can’t all wear sweats all the time you know.”

“Just anything but that.”

“Fine,” she said, picking out an equally disliked shirt. I made no argument because I could see her determination.

“You just like me because I’m like you’re little plaything that you can dress up, take out, and show off,” I said.

“I could say the same about you, but I dress myself up, take myself out, and show myself off.”

“Touché.”

We left and Lo was very anxious and eager in the car. She kept rubbing my crotch as I drove and talking about the party. At some point I turned to her and said, “You know, Lo, it’s not planned to be a gangbang?”

“Who says?” she pouted.

We arrive just before five. Robert had four grocery bags full of food on the kitchen table. His plan included baking fish, a pasta side-dish, and a pie, as well as lots and lots of appetizers. Lo dove in, but before getting to work, she said, “I don’t want to get my outfit dirty while prepping.” She stripped down naked, but for her heels, and put on a cooking apron. Where it tied in the back revealed her sexy sweet ass. She was the picture of domestic bliss.

Lo was fast, efficient, and knew exactly what she wanted. Both Robert and I fumbled to keep up with her. But eventually we had everything laid out nicely, ready to receive Robert’s international cadre.

Surveying the open-plan living room and dining room, Lo seemed well pleased with her accomplishment, but then she said, “I just realized, I’m starving.” Between the kitchen and the dining room there was a tall half-wall that had a number of appetizer dishes laid out on it. Lo bent over and leaned on the wall, looking at the appetizers. As she did, her right hand moved down, behind her cooking apron and to her ass where Robert, who stood behind her could see. She added, “And I’m horny. Robert, are you up to fuck me?” she asked as she slapped her ass loudly to get his attention, as if he wasn’t already staring at her cunt.

Without a word, as if her ass slap was a special language between them, he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock. As he approached her from behind, she looked up at me and said, “Daddy, feed me.”

I was standing in the kitchen and saw her open her mouth. I picked up one of the small hors-d’oeuvre’s and raised it to her lips. She bit her lip as Robert entered her, but then she opened wide and took the whole thing.

“Feed me,” she commanded again as Robert was going at her from behind.

I selected a different delight for her.

Robert grabbed onto her waist. I continued to feed her and I said, “Lo, you want me to make you plump?”

“Yes Daddy. I want to be phat for you. I want to be soft and doughy.”

I continued to feed her and Robert continued to fuck her.

“Lo,” I said as I watched her tum and tits jiggle beneath her as Robert thrusted from behind, “I love your fat, your flab, your rolls, your chub, your pudge, your every delightful round, juicy, plump, perfect curve.”

She came. Then she said to me with a breathy voice, “Get me that.”

At first I didn’t know what “that” was, but she pointed. It was a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. I went to pass it to her, but she just held out her hand and said, “Pour.” I put a little in the palm of her hand. She reached back and applied it to her special spot.

“Robert,” she said, “You may have my ass now.”

Lo knew very well how, as permissive as I am, the granting of that one reserved pleasure makes me jealous. I should be the one to get the benefit of her ass. But I let her have her way. He entered her slowly as she guided him with her slippery hand. She moaned. He said, “Lo, you’re so tight.”

“Feed me!” she commanded me again. I obeyed. By this point the cooking apron’s knot had come untied and was drooping beneath her, only held up by the collar around her neck. Her tits were flopping forward and back as Robert thrust with strong movements deep in her ass. I saw her hands grab onto the marble of the countertop as she braced for a powerful orgasm. Robert began to moan loudly as he was on the cusp of cumming in her ass and Lo squeezed her knees together and held on tightly to the marble. She squirted all over Robert’s legs and the floor as he pulled out. Then Lo either decided or instinctively did something to get my ire up (and something else up). She turned round rapidly and got on her knees to take Robert’s cock in her mouth and let him explode there. She was still squirting on the floor in spurts and, when Robert finally pulled out of her hungry mouth, she collapsed in her own lady juices on the hardwood floor. Her legs were like jelly now. She squirted again as she said, “Holy fucking shit!” with both hands between her legs in a futile attempt to stem the flood.

Lola

Robert ran to the bathroom and got a few towels. He and I both helped Lo up and onto the couch, careful to place another towel under her before setting her down.

Robert dutifully cleaned up the mess on the floor and I gently kissed Lo’s forehead until she had regained some of her strength.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Robert cheerfully.

I removed Lo’s wet shoes and got a few paper towels to dry them off and clean them up.

Soon enough everything was neat and tidy again. Lo went to the bathroom to change back into her party outfit and spruce up a bit, leaving Robert and me alone.

“You know, you have an amazing woman,” he said. “Not only is she a fucking crazy nympho, but she can cook and host a party.”

“She’s pretty smart, too,” I added.

“That goes without saying,” he replied.

When Lo returned to the room, she looked ravishing. Even if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, her glow said, “I just got fucked beyond consciousness.” Too bad she had already been ravished by Robert and the guests were due soon, meaning I would be hard up the rest of the evening.

While she and Robert were in the living room and I in the kitchen, she said something to him I couldn’t hear. Then she came to me and was very demure.

“Daddy?” she opened.

“Yes,” I said without a hint of emotion, which gave away that I was very emotional.

“Are you mad?”

“No, Lo,” I said, perhaps lying, though I really didn’t know my own feelings.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I hesitated, but she came close and kissed me, open mouth, with lots of tongue.

When she was done, I said, “Well, wasn’t that just the coup de grâce?”

She replied, “You mean crudités?”

“I don’t know, was taking his cock in your mouth right from your ass merely an appetizer, or was it the final blow?”

“Well,” she said with a wicked smile, “I hope not final!”

She kissed me again and grabbed my package as she did saying, “Admit you liked it, Daddy?”

I said nothing, but my silence gave me away. I couldn’t both feign anger and be aroused at the same time, and the two contradictory feelings in me were wreaking havoc on my tortured soul.

Then she revealed to me the plan she and Robert had concocted together. Actually, that’s not fair. I’m sure that it was all Lo’s idea.

“Daddy,” she began, gently grabbing my arm.

“Yes?”

“If it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”

Autoerotica

Posted on September 19, 2019 by Lola Down

“Come,” I heard her yell from the bedroom down the hall as I walked into the house after a long Friday at work. She might have been saying “Cum!” to a lover. There’s never any way to tell from the sound of her voice – only on the page.

I cautiously walked down the long hall to the bedroom. What would I find?

The door was open a crack. I peeked in. She was naked, on her tum, her round rump nicely illuminated by the setting sun. Her legs were bent at the knees and her bare feet dangled up in the air, twined around each other. In her hand she held her phone.

“Come in, Daddio,” she said without turning her eyes from the screen in front of her.

I walked in and removed my jacket and tie.

“What you up to?” I inquired.

“I bet you’d like to know.”

“That is why I asked,” I said flatly as I removed my shirt and undid my belt.

“Get naked, get hard, and get in me,” she commanded.

“I’m already hard,” I said.

“As you should be,” she replied, moving her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers and then moving her hand to her ass and circling her wet fingers around her special spot.

“Oh,” I commented, “You want it like that?”

“No, Daddio,” she said, “I’m just enjoying myself.”

Always coy when it comes to her ass. Always for someone else, or for her own pleasure, but never for me.

I got behind her and tried to look at her phone by leaning forward over her back and seeing over her shoulder.

“Get up there and fuck me,” she instructed, her finger still rounding her sweet spot as I slid into her puss. “I’ll tell you what I’m looking at.”

I did as she said and she told me that a fellow blogger, a woman named TJ, wrote to us saying, “I love reading your blog. It gets me so wet.”

“Really?! Do I know this TJ?” I asked as I thrusted harder.

“She writes The Lustful Empress.”

I slowed down a bit trying to remember which erotic blog that was.

“Don’t stop!” Lo said as her hand grabbed the girth of my cock and she pushed her ass back into my hips, bouncing off of my bare bodkin.

I resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding.

“Look,” she said, putting her phone up on her back for me to read the email. It said:

I love how accepting you are of Lola’s magnificent sexuality. You guys seem to have ‘it’ don’t you? I wish I could masturbate as openly as you do, Lola. I feel self-conscious, like an addict or something. But I fucking love fucking myself. . . it’s the best. I am more autosexual than anything else I think. Keep celebrating each other.

Fan mail like that makes it all worth it. Well, that’s not completely true. I know that I would be writing all this whether no one read it, or only one person read it – Lola. But knowing that others read it, enjoy it, and get off to it is the icing on the cake.

Speaking of icing, as I read the email, Lo began to climax as one hand worked her ass and the other, from underneath, worked her clit. Her Kegel muscles contracted and I was squeezed out of her as she curled into a convulsing, throbbing ball, squirting uncontrollably. The more she pushed her knees up to her breasts in a tightly bound fetal position, the more she sprayed the bed and my knees. I lifted up her phone to prevent it from being ruined by the liquid.

TJ, author and model of The Lustful Empress, getting off to Lo

“Fuuuu-uuuuck,” she groaned as the last bit of lady juice spurted out of her.

When she regained control of her limbs, she slowly got up and pulled the soaked sheets with her, dropping them in the laundry basket. “I’ll clean up, Daddy, but right now I have to get ready.”

“Ready for what?” I asked, holding my throbbing, hard rod in my hand.

“My date.”

“Date?”

“With Robert. I told you, didn’t I?”

I just looked dumbfounded.

“We’re going to the movies.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And what are you seeing?”

“The Favourite.”

“Is he your favorite now?” I asked, demoralized.

“No, Daddio, she said, caressing me and looking up at me with those beautiful big brown eyes. “That’s the name of the movie. It’s a period piece.”

“Really? Not a porno?”

“Well, I hear it has a lot of woman-on-woman sex scenes.”

“I knew it!”

“But that’s not why we’re going to see it.”

“You’re going to see it to have sex in a crowded theater.”

“Oh, Daddy, you always impute to me the most debased of motives.”

“So why are you going to see it?”

“It’s historical. It has great sets, acting, and costumes.”

“And?”

“And probably to fuck in a dark theater.”

“Don’t get caught.”

“But getting caught is at least half the fun. Does that make you jealous?” she asked, as her hand stroked my hard cock.

“So you’re leaving me home alone on a Friday night?”

“Not totally alone,” she said, “You have TJ.”

“Who?”

“TJ, the woman from the blog.”

“Oh, right,” I said to my consolation prize.

Lola made the bed and I watched her tits droop as she bent over to tuck in the sheets. Her naked body moved like a delightful dance as she unfurled the blanket.

“Look,” she said, as she hopped back in the bed and took up her phone. I sat next to her. Her left hand stroked my hard erection up and down as she scrolled through TJ’s blog with her right hand.

We read and looked at the photos together.

“She sounds like she could be your twin sister,” I said as I read about how TJ becomes aroused by her own naked body.

“Hold this,” she said, giving me the phone.

Now, with her right hand she was stroking her pussy and I scrolled through the blog.

“Oh boy,” I said, “You want her.”

Lo bit her lower lip.

“Lo,” I cautioned, “You just made the bed. You don’t want to. . .”

Before I could finish my sentence, she had jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before releasing her ejaculate all over the tile floor with a scream.

When she had regained her composure, she got some paper towels and got on her hands and knees to clean up the mess.

“What time is your movie?”

“Eight,” she called back. “But we’re meeting for drinks first.”

“Well, you’re going to be late,” I told her.

She jumped in the shower and I continued to look at the blog, hard up.

“Hey,” she called to me, “you’re not allowed to cum. You know that, right?”

“I still don’t understand how that is fair,” I said, taunting her.

I got up and looked at her in the shower.

“Get!” she screamed. She hates when I see her in her shower cap.

“How is it fair that you get to cum twice and then go on a date with another man and I’m not allowed any autoerotica myself?”

“First,” she said from behind the shower curtain, “it’s not autoerotic if you use someone else’s pictures. Second, you didn’t count the three times I came before you got home.”

“Lo, now you’re just. . .”

“And third,” she cut me off, “this has nothing to do with fairness. It has everything to do with me. What I want. What I allow you. Got that? Don’t forget it.”

Lo jumped out of the shower and hastily dried off before slipping into a blue dress and blue heels. No panties.

“You’re going to be cold like that,” I cautioned.

“I’m planning on things heating up quickly,” she said.

Soon enough she was out the door, leaving me alone.

I scrolled through TJ’s blog, which I recalled I had seen before, and I thought to myself, “She said no cumming, but she didn’t say no edging.”

I spent about an hour going through each and every post before I thought to myself, “If I don’t stop this right now, I’m going to explode!”

In order to take the edge off, I switched to photos of Lo, which are always fair game, and I pulled out the old Stoya Fleshlight. Lubing up Stoya and myself, I imagined what Lo was up to with Robert. I didn’t even need to see Lo’s photos. Soon enough I was cumming and cumming hard and deep in Stoya’s pussy, just thinking about Lo in a dark theater, legs spread, and Robert discretely moving his hand up her smooth thigh until reaching that wet pussy, pulsating with anticipation. Gently he would rub and flick her pussy lips, clandestinely making her cum. I pictured her hands gripping the seat and her upper teeth biting down on her bottom lip to prevent the scream from escaping her mouth. That was enough to bring me over the edge and release me into a deep sleep.

Cums, Shoots, & Leaves

Posted on September 12, 2019 by Lola Down

Lo’s trysts with Robert continued on a fairly regular basis. He’d text. She’d encourage him to come. He would. But as his drop-ins became more frequent, the novelty of it began to wear off for Lo, and perhaps for Robert as well. And so they would engage in different, ever more elaborate conceits to involve me in their affair. I shall mention just a few of them here.

Though I sat merely yards away from where they were going at it in the bedroom, one time Lo called me on her phone from there to the living room. I could practically hear her talking, even without the use of the phone, yet she spoke to me as if I was far off in another town.

“Daddy, do you want to know what Robert is doing to me now?”

“What’s he doing, Lo?” I asked, nonchalantly.

“He’s behind me, fucking me doggy-style. His cock is so long, it’s hitting my spot perfectly,” she said, following it up with a long moan that I could hear perfectly in the living room.

Another time, as they were going at it in the bedroom, Lo took a selfie. She was doggie-style, he behind her. She made a big ‘O’ with her mouth as if she were in ecstasy. She texted the photo to me.

A different night, after I showed Robert into the bedroom and I was about to turn to leave, Lo stopped me. She was naked under the sheets. Robert was fully dressed and anxious. Lo said, “Wait, Daddio.”

“Yes,” I asked, like a dutiful servant in a nineteenth century English manor house.

“Tonight I’m going to give Robert my ass,” she said.

“And?” I asked politely.

She fumbled in the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Will you grease me up?” she asked, pulling down the sheets, turning over, protruding her ass in the air and pointing to her special spot.

Devotedly, I took the lube and covered my index finger with it and proceeded to spread it all around her target as she moaned and wiggled her ass. I then inserted my finger in and out as Robert looked on. “Like this, Lo?” I asked.

“MmmmmHmmmm,” she said, “More.”

I continued. She orgasmed, collapsing into the bed.

“That will be all,” she said dismissively. “Robert, I’m ready for you.” And she slid on her tum so that her legs were spread on the floor and she was bent over at a ninety-degree angle on the bed. I saw Robert unbuckle his belt and undo his pants as I slowly closed the door. I heard Lo moan as he entered her and I walked down the hall.

“Daddio,” I heard her call once more, just as I got to the living room.

I returned and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” said Lo, struggling to speak.

I entered the room. Robert had already entered her. Lo looked up at me.

“Daddio,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Do you want to fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass?”

“If that gives you pleasure,” I said.

“Where is it?”

“She’s in the closet.”

“She?!” she said, “Now it has a gender?!”

“She’s a vagina. Of course she has a gender. She goes by the pronouns: She, Her, Hers.”

“It is just a vagina.”

“I don’t reduce women to only their genitalia,” I said, aware of the irony of my statement.

“Well, grab your vagina and pull out your cock,” she said.

I got my Stoya Fleshlight and unzipped my pants. Lo applied the lube to my cock and then held Stoya in her hands as I penetrated her (that is, Stoya’s) vagina.

“That’s it, Daddio. You fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass,” she said with clear delight. She shut her eyes and enjoyed the ride. In a remarkable chain reaction, Lo began to cum and then both Robert and I came, making for a splendid triple play.

These odd requests and variations were the exception, however, not the norm. The norm was a five or ten minute shag, one orgasm achieved by each party, and then on went the clothes and out the door went Robert.

One night Lo had already said yes to Robert’s request to come over, but as he was on his way, she remembered that she was supposed to make a call overseas for work. She was planning a major event and had invited some big name people to join. She had to make the call and it wouldn’t be a short conversation.

Lo was already on the phone with her connection abroad when Robert arrived. I explained to Robert the mix-up when he walked in and he asked, “Should I wait?” looking uncomfortable about the prospect, and also a bit disappointed and a tad upset. Spoiled man.

“No,” I said in reply. “Lola said you could quietly sneak in.”

Sneak into what? The bedroom? Her snatch? Both apparently.

Lo was naked, standing up, bent over a desk, one hand holding the phone and the other a pen as she took notes. She used the pen to point to her ass and indicated where she wanted Robert. She then put the pen perpendicularly over her lips to indicate, “Shhhhhh.” Robert didn’t even fully undress. He just pulled out his rod and mounted her, slowly and easily. She continued her conversation as if nothing was happening behind her. He slid in and out, using her wet snatch for his pleasure until he finally came deep inside her. He put his pud back in his pants, zipped up, washed off, and blew a kiss goodbye to Lo as she continued to take notes, cum dripping down her inner thigh. After I saw Robert out, I got a warm washcloth to clean her off. When she was finally done with her business call, she joined me in the bed.

“Did you enjoy that?” I asked.

“Enjoy it?” she asked back, surprised. “I didn’t even notice. I was too focused on the phone call.”

A Tall Drink of Water

Posted on September 10, 2019 by Lola Down

“Can I come over?”

“Yes, please do.”

This text exchange between Lo and Robert became a regular thing. It started off as a once a month request and then it increased to two or three times a month, then once a week, until now it was two to three times a week. Robert would text. Lo would shower and get naked. I would greet him at the door with a formal hello – far less friendly, unfortunately, than we had been prior to his accessing Lo for his personal outlet for relief. I would show him to the bedroom, and, depending on my mood, close the door behind me once he had entered, or leave it ajar. I’d sit in the living room and await the sound of his footsteps down the hall, then show him the door before taking my place back beside Lo’s naked and used body. She’d show me her cream-filled puss or the condom on the nightstand before having me enter her and telling me the brief tale of her encounter. At first there was some variation to the exchange. He would do her doggy-style; he would ask to have her ass; he would jack-off over her and cum on her tits or her face. Even then the meet-ups were fast – no longer than fifteen or twenty minutes tops! Luckily Lo can almost always cum within seconds, not minutes.

But eventually it because routine. He would get to the house, enter her doggy-style, cum within five or ten minutes, and leave. Once, after one of these sloppy, speedy summits, Lo asked Robert, “Why don’t you just jack it at home instead of driving all the way here?”

He seemed perplexed by the question. As he cleaned himself off, he said, “I do jack it at home. Always to pictures of you or you and HH. But I enjoy the anticipation in the car on the way here and the pleasant recollection on the way home.” That was complimentary enough to Lo to quell her curiosity.

Then, one evening when Robert was paying a visit to Lo in the bedroom, I received a text from Lo as I sat in the living room. It simply read, “Come.” I’m used to those texts in the morning, but not when she has a gentleman caller between her widely spread legs.

I got up and walked to the bedroom. I found her on her back, Robert on top of her, filling her need for attention. She looked over at me and said, “Daddio, will you please get me a tall glass of water with ice? Tonight he’s going at it like never before and I’ve worked up a sweat.”

I retreated from the bedroom and got the glass of ice water. I returned, cup in hand, like a waiter or servant and, as Robert continued to bang her, I carefully handed it to her. She smiled as she drained the glass and handed it back to me. “Thanks Daddio,” she said as her arms embraced Robert tightly and she began to call out, “Fuck me! Give it to me. More. Fuck me harder!”

I left the room.

The Perfect Coffee Table

Posted on September 6, 2019 by Lola Down

Friday and finally all my meetings were over. I flew home that night. I hadn’t heard from Lo since the previous night when she enigmatically told me that she had dinner with Robert. I was eager to see her. I was hard-up and aching for release. On top of that, there was the tantalizing mystery of what happened on her “date” with Robert. Just to make matters worse, fate so ordained it that on my flight home I was seated next to a young, attractive college girl wearing a tight fitting miniskirt and a low cut blouse. Her breasts were full and, when placing her carryon in the storage compartment above, she stretched and revealed a delectable midriff and even some under-boob. When we sat down, she saw that I was reading Fast Girl, the book by Suzy Favor Hamilton about her life as a high-end Vegas escort and her sex addiction.

“What is that?” she asked, naively, but with a hint of being in-the-know.

“It’s a memoir,” I said tersely. Her interest made me nervous. Her looks made me more nervous. Her age made me simply petrified – in every sense of the term.

“I think I’ve heard of it. It’s about. . .” her brow wrinkled with the struggle of recall.

“A woman who leads a double-life as a devoted wife and mom and as a prostitute.”

“Oh,” she said, shocked at my candor. She quickly followed it up with a smile and, “Do you like it?”

There was a mischievousness to her question that indicated to me that she wanted to know what turns me on.

“It’s my homework,” I said, as if that negated any pleasure I may derive from it.

“Homework?” she asked. “What class are you in?” She wanted to enroll.

“My girlfriend assigned it to me. She said it would help me understand her better. The last assignment was Getting Off, about a woman addicted to self-pleasure through humiliation porn.”

“Girlfriend?” she asked. “Aren’t you married?” she inquired while indicating my wedding band. Clearly she was interested in more than my reading material.

“Oh that,” I said, “I wear it to keep the ladies away.” My standard line.

“Yeah right,” she said. “Every guy knows that nothing attracts single women like a man who’s spoken for.”

“You got me there,” I said. She was attracted. This would be a l-o-n-g flight.

“I wish,” she said under her breath. “So, your girlfriend – or whatever – is addicted to porn?”

“I don’t know that she’s addicted to porn. She likes porn. But she definitely is addicted to pleasure.”

“I know the feeling,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Would you like to know the feeling?”

“Look,” I said, “what’s your name?”

“Kayla,” she said. Of course her name was Kayla.

“Look Kayla, I’m already involved with a nymphomaniac. It takes every ounce of my energy, focus, concentration, devotion, love, and chi to satisfy her. . . and still I come up short. I appreciate your interest. I really do, but I’m on my way back home to see her, and, well, to be honest, the beautiful batting of your eyelashes is very well and good, but I’ve got a perfect slut waiting for me at home.”

If this attractive, flirty, young woman had been sitting next to me on the departure flight, when I was more mad at Lo than missing her, things may have been different. Even then, the fact is, no matter how angry I am with her, I still love Lo. And I know, no matter how attractive other women may be, the witty repartee that Lo and I have is inimitable.

I tried to make my position clear. She accepted the boundaries I had set. But she switched gears and now asked me all about Lo. I gladly told her. It was probably my best in-flight conversation. By the time we landed, despite our fight or because of it, I wanted Lo more than ever. (I gave Kayla the blog address, just so she could see for herself how it’s done.)

I got home and as soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in for trouble. Lo wasn’t talking to me except monosyllabic words. “Hi.”

“How are you?” I asked.

“Fine.”

You get the gist. But she was dressed in a pink sleeveless t-shirt and her black lace panties. That’s it. She pranced around with her hard nipples poking through the front of her shirt, her side-boobs bouncing and peeking out from the open underarms. She. Looked. Good.

I was hard.

I wanted her.

I needed her.

I had no idea how to approach her.

So I took the direct approach: “You wanna fuck?”

“Your seduction technique is so subtle, yet captivating,” she said.

I knew I was making good progress because captivating is four syllables.

“Yeah,” I said, nonchalantly.

“Then why are you still wearing your clothes?”

I stripped and she pulled down her panties.

Her pussy was smooth, shaven, pink and beautiful.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“This?” she asked, stroking her lovely mons pubis.

“Yeah,” I said, “that.” For a moment I was under the impression that she was anticipating my return and that she had shaved for me. She disabused me of that notion right away.

“I told you,” she said, “I was seeing Robert last night.”

We were in the bed now. I was looking down at her lovely body. “You did that for Robert?”

“Semper fi,” she said.
“Semper fi?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yeah,” she said, “Always prepared; the motto of the marines.”

“Semper fi means ‘always faithful.’”

“Oh,” she said. “Whoops!”

“You can say that again. So, were you faithful?”

“Fuck me and I’ll tell you.”

I was arched over her and I enjoyed looking at her beautiful body as her hand guided my protruding member up and down her wet labia. “Come on, Daddy,” she said, “fuck me. You know you need it. Take it.”

I penetrated her. From the feel of things, she needed me as much as I needed her.

Once I had fully engorged her, I asked, “So, what happened last night?”

She was too busy enjoying my rod. She came within seconds.

I waited for her to catch her breath. “Tell me,” I commanded.

“I met him at his house,” she said in her breathy voice.

“What were you wearing?”

“A short skirt. My leather boots. A tight top.”

“Go on.”

“I met him there. He kissed me hello.”

“On the lips?”

“Yes.”

“Mighty forward of him.”

“I made sure it was on the lips.”

“Oh.”

“We talked a little and then he drove us to the restaurant. I think he liked being seen in there with me. It looked like a first or second date, I’m sure.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Him, mostly. His needs. His wants. His desires.”

“Oh, so you talked about you.”

“You could say that.”

She came again. Nothing excites her as much as she.

“And then?”

“We went back to his place. He invited me in. He offered me a drink. We sat on the couch. Before I finished my first drink, we were making out. His hands were under my top, feeling my breasts, pulling my nipples.”

Too much! I came.

As I pulled out of her and rolled on my back, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to wait to hear how the night ended.”

“Uh-uh,” I said, “You’re going to finish this slut-saga tonight.

“Only if you’ll fuck me again.”

“Start talking. You know what your words do to me.”

She moved closer to me and her index finger twirled around my flaccid cock as she spoke:

His fingers were running up and down my clit over my panties. Within a couple of strokes, my panties were soaked. He could feel it.

‘Why have you held out on me all this time?’ I asked Robert as he was feverishly trying to slide my panties over my boots.

He got them off and he was trying to remove my skirt, but it has a zipper in the back. I kissed him and slowly stood up, turned around, and let him unzip it. The skirt fell to the floor and he felt my bare ass with his hands and then he began kissing it.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Even more beautiful than in your photos.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, turning around to face him. He saw my silky smooth pussy. He kissed it. I came. I came hard just from the light touch of his lips on my soft triangle. I had to grab his shoulders to steady myself. I pulled his head in to my tum and he kissed me as he slowly removed my shirt. He sucked on my tits as I stood totally naked before him.

‘Here I am, bare as the day I was born,’ I said, ‘and you have all your clothes on.’

I began unbuttoning his dress shirt. I got him out of it and out of his t-shirt. I then got him to stand as I got on my knees and I undid his belt, his pants button, his fly, and slowly pulled down his trousers. I could see his enormously long cock in his boxers. I wanted it. I pulled down his boxers and there it was, just as I remembered it. It was beautiful, but it was as soft as you are right now.

I was soft, but getting harder. “He did tell us that he has a performance problem,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “I sucked on it and gave it my best blowjob, but damn it all, I couldn’t get it hard.”

“Really?!” That was a first.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Please demonstrate,” I asked. “Perhaps there is a problem with your technique.”

That really pissed her off. Never insult Lo’s skills in the bedroom, or any other room.

She put her mouth on my cock and said, “I have impeccable technique.” That she did. She worked on my slack slinky and it slowly regained some rigidity.

As she lifted her soft lips off my stuff, she said, “He didn’t respond to my loving labia, so I got under him and opened wide, taking his huge balls in my mouth. That he liked. It got an immediate reaction.”

“You are fond of instantaneous reviews.”

“He then guided me to the bedroom where. . .”

“No, wait,” I interrupted, “let me get in you now.” I was hard-up and wanted to hear the end of her story from a position that would allow me to gage her level of excitement. I slid my arousal-meter inside her and she continued.

“We got into bed and, well, he was still having difficulty performing. I asked him, ‘Do you want to look at some porn together?’”

“You wanted it bad, didn’t you?” I asked.

“I’m always up for porn,” she said, nonchalantly. “And he was too. He pulled up the blog.”

“Our blog?!”

“Yes. What other blog?”

“OK.”

“And we scrolled through some pics together. He settled on one of you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. And he got hard.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No I’m not. I asked him, ‘You like his cock?’ and he said, ‘Yes.’”

“You wouldn’t put me on like that, would you?”

“I swear,” she said, sincerely. “I asked him more about it and he told me that he thinks his problem might be that he’s gay. He said he likes being with women, but he gets turned on by looking at guys.”

“So what did you do?”

“We looked at some more porn together, mostly gay porn, cuck porn, and swinger porn. He eventually turned me over, doggy-style, put his laptop on my back, and fucked me from behind.”

“He used you like a coffee table?!”

“Well, if someone invented a cross between a coffee table and a fuck doll, then, yes.”

“Good idea.”

“And then he asked me if he could go in my ass.”

“The audacity of that man!”

“And I said yes.”

“You little slut.”

“Yes, Daddy. Say it again. You’re turning me on.”

“You skank. You trollop.”

“He went in my ass and then he asked, very politely, if he could cum in me.”

“You anal whore. I bet you wanted him to.”

“Well, I had cum so many times by that point, it only seemed fair.”

After she said that, I came, not in her ass, but deep in her, for the second time.

“I’m glad you were able to be so charitable while I was away,” I said. I have to admit, I felt a twinge of jealously and, for a moment, I regretted not taking advantage of my opportunity on the plane.

“Why didn’t you sleep over?” I asked her.

“It had been a long time since I had anal sex,” she began to say.

“Don’t I know it,” I added.

“And so I wanted to go home to clean up. I’m sorry, but I may have made a bit of a mess on your car seat.”

“You mean, Robert’s mess.”

“Yes, Daddy. Are you mad?”

“Lo, I can never stay mad at you.”

“But are you mad now?”

“No, Lo. I’m actually perfectly content.”

mysexlifewithlola

The trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.

Category Archives: Anal Sex

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