[We interrupt our regularly scheduled story (from the “Mount Bliss” mini-series) to bring you this tale of epistles and dildos.]
“Guess who got fan mail?” sung Lola teasingly.
“Oh, what a mystery,” I said flatly, “let me see. . . could it be Lola?”
“Well, uh, yeah. Duh. But in addition to me, guess who else.”
“I?”
“Yes you, Shakespeare!”
“And am I allowed to read this love letter?”
“Who said it was a love letter?”
“I just assumed.”
“Here,” she said, abruptly shoving the computer over to me at the breakfast table.
I looked at the email. It read:
Dear Lola,
Eric asked me to write you something about his special experience with you.
You and my boyfriend Eric have had chats, I know. He`s always busy with drawing ladies from the internet. I don’t mind, as long as the women are total strangers and from the other side of the world and I don’t have to be his model. And we promised each other that real sex is exclusively between us. He can ‘use’ me anytime he likes. Luckily for him I also like sex very much, so he’s a happy camper.
He tells me everything and shows me all his work. I must say, he has got some talent but he’s no Rembrandt yet. It turns me on sometimes when he’s busy drawing. He sure knows his female anatomy. At least he knows mine real well.
He told me that you would like Eric to ejaculate all over the pictures you send. I asked him if he would do that. He said: If you are ok with it?
I said, I don’t mind as long it’s a pic and not for real.
The thought of him jerking off over your pic was actually exciting me! So I suggested to help him a little. . . . That he didn’t expect. LOL.
We agreed to do it that night. That night I got him naked. I kept my shirt and panties on. I watched him stroking his cock. It was rock-hard from the start.
I whispered some dirty words in his ears, reading from your blog, and brushed my big soft tits on his back and arms and everywhere.
I got excited a little too. Seeing him stroking his cock for another girl and me working him up, I was soaking my panties. I saw some precum on his cock. I licked it away, pulled my shirt up and let him suck my breasts. I grabbed his cock as he looked at your photos and I read to him as best I could – one eye on the words and one on his rod.
It wasn’t long before he came all over you. I mean, all over your pic. I must confess I swallowed a lot of it.
After that we made this photo for you. Hope you like it.
I got so horny that I wanted him to lick me and he made me come. I was really dripping wet. After that he penetrated me real tenderly. Only after half an hour did he eject another load in my pussy. He obviously had to reload. LOL. He even ate my cream-pie! It was great!
So Lola, thanks for the question you asked. You are looking very young and lovely. How old are you? And have you ever had experience with women? I don’t mind that. And how is your boyfriend looking? And do you have sex often? Maybe we can exchange some nice pictures?
We hope to hear from you!
Bye now and kisses,
Eric and Charlotte
From Eric and Charlotte
“Lo,” I said after reading it.
She looked up at me, anticipating my reaction.
“It’s all about you. She wants you. This isn’t fan mail for me. It’s adoration of the goddess for you!”
“She said she was reading your writing.”
“One line of the entire letter indirectly alludes to me and you call it my fan mail?! Good grief! A bigger egomaniac I never met!”
“Egomaniac or nymphomaniac? Which is it?”
“Both!!!”
“Fine,” she said. “I was just teasing with that. Here’s the real fan mail,” she said, clicking on a different message from her in-box.
I read:
Dear H.H.,
Your power with words penetrates me deeply. It’s so potent that I lose myself and end up in a place where I am with both of you. You’re that good! You’re the type of good that I can begin to feel you. All I want is to reach through my screen and kiss you. Taste you. I’m very selfish, so I may just have to have you all to myself while Lola watches us. Be forewarned.
xoxoxo,
Jen X
She also sent a few sexy photos of her as attachments.
“Why are you showing me this?” I asked because she usually keeps me at a “healthy” distance from temptation. Except her temptation, of course.
“I thought it was sweet.”
“It was sexy and direct.”
“Just like me.”
“Exactly, which is why I’m suspicious of your motives. You despise anyone who attempts to seduce me. Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No no no,” she laughed as she got up from the table and moved very close to me. “Show me you love me.”
“I show you with my words.”
“I want you to show me with your cock.”
“Lo, it’s eight in the morning on a Sunday!”
“Exactly. This could be our fun day.”
“I get it now,” I said. “You showed me that to arouse me. You are only interested in getting your needs met.”
“On Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, sex is the top tier.”
“No it isn’t.”
“Well, it’s up there.”
“No it’s not. Self-Actualization is top.”
“Well, I’m just going to have to go self-actualize myself, if you’re not going to do it for me.”
She sauntered to the bedroom, removing an article of clothing with each couple of steps down the hall.
As you well know, dear reader, Lo is half my age and at least double my libido. As much as I try to satisfy her cravings, putting logs in the fire so to speak, it only makes a bigger fire of desire that burns through the logs twice as fast. Buddha was well aware of this maddening math. I’ve tried to steer clear of becoming consumed by coitus and I’ve finally reached an age where I can transfigure the intensity of my love from physical acts to intellectual creations.
“Your writing is just mental masturbation,” Lo called down the hallway.
“And your masturbation is just. . .physical. . . masturbation,” I responded with a repartee that fell flat as the pancake I was eating.
I turned the computer back toward me and scrolled through Lo’s other fan mail. Something caught my eye. It was an exchange between her and a man named Nero Black. Nero is another middle-aged married man. Like me, his wife spends much of her sex-drive on self-pleasure, getting off to all manner of taboo literotica. Unlike me, she doesn’t first try to use him as a sex toy. In their exchange, Lola had encouraged Nero to sneak mysexlifewithlola.com into his wife’s reading list somehow, or to buy one of the books or the audiobook for his wife to read. Lo was convinced that if the two of them were to enter into the dregs of desire together, they would find each other there in the darkness of their depravity.
But for whatever reason, Mr. Black was hesitant to take Lo up on this suggestion. He was in a sexual rut. His wife was busy getting herself off in the bedroom while Mr. Black was jacking off in the bathroom. But rarely did the two sex drives cross paths. Unable to convince Mr. Black to break this pattern, perhaps because he was secretly fond of it, Lo did the next best thing – try to get Mr. Black to get off to her.
Mr. Black had written about how his wife caught him stroking himself to some porn in the bathroom and she just ignored it, with the exception of a snide remark, as if that kettle wasn’t blacker than Mr. Black. Lo then clamored to Mr. Black to please please please use her photo next time he has a hankering for a wankering. She even sent him a variety of choice shots to shoot his load to. She was also hoping he would get caught by the Mrs. while looking at Lo’s image.
There is a certain pattern that emerged from the correspondences I found in Lo’s naughty letter box. The women who wrote to me were all younger. I guess I’m so old that statistically speaking, almost all of them will be younger. And the men Lo wished to worship her were all older – around my age, and mostly married.
It’s true that, like Charlotte, there were a number of women around Lo’s age who also took a fancy to Lo. But there most decidedly was an age gap between our respective fans.
A dug a little further and saw that dear Mr. Black had indeed used one of Lo’s pornographic images to find his sweet release and he even paid Lo the highest compliment of writing about it!
I walked into the bedroom to find Lo making sweet love to the greatest fuck of her life – herself.
“What is this?!” I demanded, not waiting for her to complete the self-impalement that she was engaged in with her glass dildo.
She didn’t stop. She looked up, her right hand still rapidly thrusting in-and-out between her legs.
“Get behind me,” she commanded, evading the question and turning on all fours at the same time.
I thought she wanted me to replace the dildo with my own tool. I was wrong.
“Grab it,” she said, indicating the handle of the dildo. “Fuck it,” she said, indicating her pussy. “Faster,” she said. “Harder,” she said. “Deeper,” she said.
As she gave me instructions, she scrolled through her photos until she came to one that tickled her fancy.
Her pussy exploded, rocketing out the glass dildo like a missile propelled by a water cannon! She’s lucky that her discharge was aimed back at me and down at the bed or else her computer would be beyond repair.
When the waterworks were over and I had dried off, Lo was in the bathroom doing who-knows-what. I looked at the image and accompanying story that had set her off.
“Wait! What?!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t look!” she called to me from behind the bathroom door.
But there’s some things you just can’t unsee.
It was an illustration, thank goodness, and not an actual photo. With it was a confession from an older woman who reported to Lola that she found her son looking at Lo’s photos and the blog.
The mother tried to use the opportunity as a “teaching moment.”
She said to her son, “It’s ok, son, Dad also gets off to Lola Down.”
“I know,” he said, ashamed, his face in his hands, “This is his computer.”
“You see,” she said, consoling him, “It’s normal.”
“But,” he began haltingly, embarrassed to say the next few words, “I’m logged on to your account.”
The mother tried not to flinch or to show any sign of embarrassment herself. Teach by example. It was true, she had found the blog through her husband’s search history and she had secretly fapped her snatch to it. But now the family secrets were revealed and they revolved around Lola.
Sorry to see her son’s erection had not dissipated even through this difficult conversation, the mother offered, “Let me help you. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Wow! I can’t even go into the details of what this housewife and mom shared with Lola about what happened next, but I think you get the idea.
Now, I thought, I bet that’s a story that Mrs. Black would really enjoy.
