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Imitation is the Best Form of Flattery
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Art by Al
The perennial question: Does art imitate life or life imitate art?
“Daddy,” Lo said, as she was lying down in bed. It was one of those rare mornings that she woke up before I and was already engaged in her favorite activity – pleasuring herself to something on her phone – “I’m reading ‘Paint me like one of your slutty girls,’ and I want you to know how much your writing turns me on.”
“That’s nice, Lo,” I said, slowly opening my eyes.
She was in her red top and matching red bottom satin pajamas, one hand down between her legs under the satin, the other holding her phone.
“You know,” I said further, “that story has nothing to do with me.”
“Yes, but you wrote it.”
“About you and your admirer and his obsession with you.”
“That’s what I love about it.”
She brought her hand out from under her satin shorts and licked her fingers before replacing her hand on her crotch.
I reached my left hand over and placed it between her legs so I could feel her fingers moving and her hand pumping up and down as she inserted her fingers to her hole. I tried to slide my hand under her satin bottoms and she said, “Uh uh. Only over.”
I relented and resigned myself to merely feeling her feeling herself.
She dropped her phone and pulled her tits up and over the V-cut of her top and said, “Suck them, Daddy,” which I did.
“Pull my nipples, Daddy.” I did that as well. She orgasms quite easily to the feeling of pain caused by pulling and pinching her nipples.
She moaned.
“What’s got your engine revving so this morning?”
“I told you,” she whispered in a breathy sigh, “I was reading. . . your story.”
“And?”
“And Al sent me a drawing of what he would like to do.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a drawing of him and his wife in bed, getting off to my photos on their TV.”
“Oh, I see.”
“He wishes he could tell his wife that he has been jackin’ off to me regularly for months now. He wishes he could tell her what a slut I am – that I like to go A-to-M and A-to-P and P-to-M and P-to-A-to-M.”
Before speaking I thought that if the Secret Service ever needed a code name for Lo, it would be: MAP PAM
“Yes, you are a dirty slut.”
“Say it again, Daddy.”
“You are. . . ,” but before I could say it, she was back to Al.
“He wants to tell his wife about me, about how I’m a hotwife and sleep with men and women. He wants to have her read the books and blog and get her to do the same. He wants her to fuck other guys in the bed next to him.”
She came in a gush of good feeling. I felt it wash over my hand.
As she was recovering, I looked at her phone.
“Lo, that’s not a painting,” I said.
She opened her eyes. “Oh, that? No. That’s from Jane and Andrew. I sent them Al’s art and, guess what?! They reproduced it in real life! And they improved upon it. Look at Andrew! He’s locked in his cage. And look what else!”
Andrew & Jane
She used her dry hand to enlarge the photo so I could see that Andrew and Jane had printed up art of Lola and framed it around their television. “Isn’t that amazing!”
“You are a sexual celebrity.”
“A tempter for Andrew’s celibacy!”
“I sure hope he’s not celibate with a wife that sexy!”
“Maybe they both cum to you when she gives him permission.”
“I want him to look at my photos and lose control and cum even in his cock-cage.”
She saw my cock twitching under the sheets. “Oh, Daddy, do you need to cum?”
“When I see you like that, I do,” I said, which wasn’t the whole truth. I am actually even more turned on by her voice, her tone, her moan, and her dirty talk than by seeing her. She could make me cum over the phone, which she has actually done many times.
Art from Al
“What do you need?” she asked.
“Stroke me.”
She grabbed the hand lotion next to her on the nightstand and put it in the palm of her left hand. “Give me that cock,” she said.
She wrapped her hand around my hard rod and the cool cream made me even more hard than before. She began sliding her cupped hand up and down my shaft. She slid her palm down to my balls and cupped them before moving even further down.
“You like how life imitates art?”
Andrew and Jane
I couldn’t answer. She knew why. “You’re going to cum,” she observed. “Where do you want to cum?”
“You tell me,” was all I could say.
“My face.”
At those words, I pulled back and got up, straddling her torso, grabbing my throbbing organ and coaxed my creative juices to climax, baptizing the crown of her head in hot white spurts that dripped down her face. She licked around her mouth and said, “I bet Al would like to show his wife how I do that too.”
“Maybe he’ll paint you like a Mona Lisa drenched under a dripping Jackson Pollock.”
“Classic, abstract, and pornographic all at once. I like that!”
“You should, it describes you perfectly.”
Imitation #1
Imitation #2
Protected: “Paint me like one of your slutty girls.”
Game Day Highlights
It had a been a long time since Lola had seen the brothers from across the street – Roy and Gary. Well, to be honest, she had “seen” them, but only seen them around the neighborhood. A cordial wave hello while walking home or a polite smile if we passed them in the local supermarket was about all interaction she had had with them since she and Meri worked out their intricate plan to swap brothers for children. That strategy worked to perfection. Meri got to have a threesome with boys the age of her children and Lola, while taking care of the males of Meri’s household, got out of the tedious sex she had been having on a regular basis with Roy and Gary. She had grown bored of being their pandemic call of booty.
They had reached out frequently, requesting use of Lo’s services or, at least, to service her holes. But she had rebuffed them. Eventually they got the message. Things began to open up in the summer, post-vaccinations, and we imagine the boys went back to seeing their friends and girlfriends, then to college in the fall.
Omicron struck in December when the boys were back home for winter break and their over-protective mother shuttered them in the house once again.
Now it was January and both their colleges were having a delayed in-person start, opting instead for remote learning for the first two weeks of classes. That meant the boys were home and caged in for another half month.
Knowing how much the brothers enjoy football and imagining how they must feel pent up in that house (in more ways than one), Lo reached out to their mother and asked if it would be ok for the boys to watch the playoffs at our house. Of course, Lo only asked my permission – or rather, informed me of her arrangement – after the mother had agreed. That mother loves Lo. In her eyes, Lo can do no wrong. If she only knew. . .
The brothers came over and from the moment Lo met them at the door, their lust for Lo was palpable. Lo had no intention of falling back into the sibling cycle of sex again, but she simply cannot help herself from being seductive, salacious, and so very sexy. Lo decided to get into the spirit of football by wearing knee-high striped socks with tight pink shorts and an oversized football jersey that she stole from my drawer.
For those of you who don’t know, the playoffs lasted three weekends in a row. Each weekend consisted of at least two games. The brothers were at our house, high-fiving, yelling, screaming, and generally displaying their over-the-top testosterone levels for all three weekends, multiple hours at a time. Lo did nothing to relieve their tension. Rather, she only made the tightly twisted libidinous drive that tugged at their testicles even more taut.
Over the course of many hours, I curiously observed the boys’ interactions with Lola as the football announcers called the play-by-play. Though we were all watching the game on the TV, I couldn’t help but imagine that the commentary was about something else. What follows are direct quotes (in italics) from the games in a highlight reel.
Announcer 1: Welcome to Sunday Night NFL All Access. That stands for ‘Now Fucking Lola’ All Access.
Announcer 2: These players have been eyeing each other for weeks now. There’s a lot of frustration in the room. The strategy has to be for one to pound that front and the other to get penetration in the back.
Announcer 1: I couldn’t agree with you more. He really has to open up that hole.
Announcer 2: Well, the game is underway and it is his first penetration and it’s really deep!
Announcer 1: Wow! That’s a really big shot!
Announcer 2: No doubt, those two will hook up again.
Announcer 1: If this isn’t going to be a blow out, they will have to fill that gap.
Announcer 2: Look at that, an amazing turnaround. He was able to punch it in!
Announcer 1: They’re in a position to tighten this thing up.
Announcer 2: Looks like he’s able to get back on top of it.
Announcer 1: And now they’re double teaming.
Announcer 2: It’s a touchback!
Announcer 1: Yes, they just swooped the back end.
Announcer 2: He’s going deep!
Announcer 1: Another nice hookup.
Announcer 2: Terrific ball skills.
Announcer 1: This is going to be a real contest. It’s a match, blow-for-blow.
Announcer 2: But wait! What’s this? A fumble! Sacks are great, but strip sacks are even better!
Announcer 1: Great ball placement.
Announcer 2: And on the first play, some razzle-dazzle Hollywood style!
Announcer 1: They’re just having their way now.
Announcer 2: Those are some uncanny ball skills.
Announcer 1: That’s about as hot as it gets.
Announcer 2: He has amazing hands.
Announcer 1: He is hot, especially in the red zone.
Announcer 2: He snuck it into the end zone!
Announcer 1: Looks like he spiked it!
Announcer 2: Another booming finish!!!
Lola’s team uniform
All this testosterone fueled banter, excitement, and physicality had spurred not only the brothers into a sexual frenzy, but also Lola. By halftime of the last game, she wanted someone to score. But Lola’s nature is to avoid zero-sum games. She prefers when everyone wins. In that spirit, she lined up all us people with penises on the couch, sitting facing forward and the TV. I was in the middle and Gary and Roy were on my left and right, respectively. Lo had all three of us pull our pants down around our ankles. She was wearing her black, silk negligee and nothing else. She got down on her knees and between each of our knees to fluff each of us up one at a time. Then she gently, slowly descended her derrière down on my cock as her cunt was dripping with anticipation of finally being filled.
Securely seated on my lap, she reached out her left and right hands to grasp Gary and Roy by their uprights and, as she bopped and bounced on my pole like a cheerleader, she encouraged the brothers with her offensive holding.
Sure enough, first one, then the other reached the goal line.
Lo continued her halftime routine on me until she was able to coax me offsides into a neutral zone infraction.
She stood up, my ejaculate dripping down her inner thigh, and she looked at the three of us, spent and sidelined, and she said, “I just love full-contact sports.”
Lola’s Suited Up for the Big Game
Labor Day – Two Women who Work
Mrs. Sins
Today is Labor Day and in honor of those who work, we want to introduce you to two friends (of ours and each other) who work hard for their money. We also want to ask you to support them through a very special gift.
Samantha (Sammi) Masog and Mrs. Sins.
I’ll let Sammi tell you about herself and her business:
My name is Sammi. I am from a small town in central Minnesota. I am currently expecting my first child. My husband and I are very excited and nervous! We have two beautiful little kittys named Heinrich and Leonardo. I have always loved photography. I am the person that notices the small things most would overlook.
While looking to make a living from the thing I love doing I stumbled across boudoir. It was super intriguing to me. It was a way for women to feel like the sexual creatures that they are, but also gave them a chance to see their beauty in a different light. We sometimes get stuck in being a role for other people and forget to see who we really are. So I started taking on clients. It was incredible to see these people light up with the way they saw themselves through my eyes. I ended up with a whole new appreciation for the human form. In every body is something truly spectacular. If you look for the beauty, it’s easy to see. Society has made this a much more difficult task, especially towards ourselves. Because of this and knowing exactly how it feels to be told you’re not pretty enough and that no one wants you, I want to make sure women everywhere know that is untrue. That led me to become a life coach. I wanted to help people in a more specific way. So I honed in on empowering women. Thus my Empowerment Coaching was born.
I coach women to unlearn the negative things about themselves and to learn how to embrace the beauty they already behold. Through monthly or biweekly session I help break down those barriers that keep us thinking “I wish I looked like (blank).” We work on affirmations to ensure that you are your most confident and true self. There is so much more to this world than just looking beautiful all the time. We need to cherish every part of ourselves. And I want to help people do that. When I combine coaching with my photography I can help women truly accept who they are and not who they think they should be.
Samantha Masog, Self Portrait
Samantha has used her talents and art to inspire so many women to be confident and proud of themselves. And, as she describes it, it is a labor of love. She also will be going into labor soon.
Speaking of going into labor, Mrs. Sins – already confident and proud of her beauty – took a set of photos when she was pregnant that we think you might enjoy!
Mrs. Sins expecting
Mrs. Sins Pregnant
Though she sometimes takes selfies, usually Mrs. Sins is photographed by her loving husband, Mr. Sins. Though he tends to be a little more camera shy than the Mrs.
Mr. & Mrs. Sins
Unlike a lot of the people we profile here, Mr. & Mrs. Sins don’t run an OF page or anything else to make money off of their artful photography. They do it for the sheer love of it.
Did I say “sheer”?
They recently requested a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts and said that they loved it!
Mrs. Addy Sins reads Match, Cinder & Spark
Cover as Cover Up
Sometimes Mommy Needs some Alone Time
In order to show our appreciation and to help out two amazing women, we ask you to contact Sammi and make a donation to help pay for Addy to do a boudoir session with her and get some professional sexy photographs made of her for Mr. Sins, you, and all of us!
You can contact her here:
Instagram: rose.lens.empower
Facebook: Facebook.com/roselensempower
We’ll update you with the results!
Mr. & Mrs. Sins
Tits Out
“Lo, are you watching porn again?” I asked as I noticed her lying on the couch, legs spread, hand cupped in her thigh-gap, her mind keenly absorbed in the screen of her phone.
“No,” she said defiantly.
“Then what are you doing in that provocative position?”
“I happen to be reading an article.”
“Oh yeah? What article?”
“It’s about the pandemic and relationships.”
“I’m curious. Tell me more.”
“Oh, it’s just about how some couples realized that their relationship was in shambles once they were deprived of all the other distractions in life.”
“Hmmm, sounds interesting. What’s it called?”
“I forget the title.”
“But you’re reading it right now. I’d like to read it too. What’s it called?”
“Fine,” she said, as if caught fibbing. “It’s called, ‘First Comes the Pandemic Divorce, Then the Tits Out Summer.’”
“Tits Out Summer, eh?”
Lola’s Tits Out
“It’s educational.”
“I bet it is.”
“Do you plan on having a ‘Tits Out Summer’ this year?”
“This year, every year: summer, winter, spring, fall – never a bad time for tits out.”
“Take ʼem out now.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
She reached into her shirt and pulled her breasts out over the top.
“You’ll stretch it out that way,” I said.
“Stretch what?”
“Your shirt.”
“Oh, I thought you were talking about something else,” she said as she pulled at her nipples, elongating them.
“Mind if I snap a photo or two? You look divine.”
I pulled out my camera.
“You know,” she said as she posed, “I’ve been called an attention whore for just this sort of exhibitionism.”
“You don’t say. Preposterous.”
“The way I see it, nudes have always been considered fine art. That’s just how I consider myself – a priceless museum quality piece that should be on display in a venue open to the public.”
“You’re a piece alright! Very open to the public.”
“What are you implying?”
“I mean, in our day and age, the internet is the democratization of culture, the dissemination of information, the museum for the masses.”
“Quite,” she said as she pressed her tits together. “And the masses have spoken and I am the embodiment of their collective unconscious vision.”
“Humble too.”
She slid out of her panties and spread her legs.
“I know a photographer who takes photos of naked women,” she remarked.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You should introduce us. We have a lot in common.”
“Not really. That’s just my point.”
“How so?”
“Well, each of her models is ‘perfect’ in a traditional sort of way and therefore eminently forgettable.”
“I see.”
“I, by contrast, am unique in a memorable sort of way.”
“That you are.”
“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?”
I put down the camera and picked up my notepad and a pen.
“Daddy? What are you writing? I asked, do you want to fuck me?”
“You’ve inspired me,” I said as I scratched away at my note before it vanished from my mind.
“Read it to me,” she said when I put the pad down. She simultaneously picked up her two plungers — pink and blue (“pink for pussy, blue for bum”) and attached them to the bed’s headboard.
Pink Plunger
“Are you going to engage in double penetration?”
“That’s the objective,” she said, sliding back on the ribbed handles.
“Adventurous.”
“I like to think that I’m open to adventure. Will you read to me?”
I read from the notebook: “The most beautiful thing in the world cannot be seen, touched, or apprehended by the senses. It can only be approached by the mind, felt by the soul, and embraced deep within the heart. It nourishes the imagination and quickens thought. It is the noumenal trace behind the phenomenal appearance of the nymphomaniac, the sexually confident woman, the eternal feminine open to receive, willing to give, abundantly generous, her glory simultaneously concealing and revealing, her naked resplendence overwhelming thought through her appearance, yet shrouding her in mystery that tantalizes because always unattainable.”
“How Platonic,” she remarked, “and therefore, disappointingly sterile. Don’t you want to have me? Don’t you want to approach my body, feel my tits, and embrace me deep within my cunt? Though I adore your words and ideas, right now I just want you to fuck me.”
Her withering criticism of my inspired panegyric to her dissuaded me from continuing. If I wanted to praise her, I had to do it apart from words and phrases. I had to express my love, preferably through my second most penetrating and pleasing organ.
She pulled forward from the headboard, surprising both herself and me as the plungers remained in her holes and became dislodged from the surface where they had been affixed with a sudden pop! noise. She looked like an animal that had been shot twice with large darts in the aft. She reached back, pulled the plungers out and lay flat on her back on the bed, playing dead, but for both her hands fidgeting with her pussy as her legs were spread. She resembled human Mercedes sign.
“I think I’m comprehending your needs,” I said as I removed my clothes.
“Sometimes you’re a genius.”
“My dear, I’m always a genius. Sometimes I do stupid things.”
“I think it’s the other way around.”
I got between her legs and berated her as she bore the full brunt of my blunt instrument.
“The two brothers aren’t enough, slut? The three brothers and their father couldn’t satisfy your hunger for humiliation? MILF Meri didn’t cure your craving for cunt?”
She just spread her legs further and took my meat and degradation with stoic equanimity.
For me, at that moment, she was the axis mundi. Not the world navel, but the hole at the center of the world through which all things emerge in their creation and return in their destruction.
Her hole was wide, taking and giving, full of fluid and overflowing. There was a sloshing and splashing as she climaxed, after which she simply said, “And now in my ass, Daddy.”
Ass Please Daddy
I pulled out, flipped her over, and slid into her second axis mundi; antipode to the first, the demonic inversion of the fecund orifice.
In one fell swoop I securely conjoined with her and I felt as she gripped my member with intensity.
She cried out in pain, “Now you’ve gone too far!”
“You can’t know where too far is until you get there.”
“You’re hurting me,” she pleaded.
I pulled back, relenting.
“I didn’t say stop,” she called over her shoulder.
I rammed her repeatedly from the rear until her rhythmic response of “oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” transformed into a repeating release of “ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”
She could tell I was rapidly approaching the point of no return and so she lunged forward, and with a catlike quickness, pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, opening her mouth and taking my instrument of impalement deep into the back of her throat.
Instinctively, I pulled back, grabbed my manhood with my right hand, and let spew forth all of my liquid love for Lola.
She looked up at me as I painted her face the color of pearl and she said, “I only feel right on my knees, Daddy.”
I spread my legs wide and she got between them, snuggling into my thighs, and licked from balls to tip. She looked up at me and asked, “Did you like fucking my ass?”
Unable to respond, I put my hands through her thick mane and pressed her face close to my throbbing thermometer.
She opened her mouth and took it in, performing her practice of “cockwarming” as I slowly drifted off to sleep.
Did you like fucking my ass, Daddy?
Redoubled Effort
Lo’s Dinner
“Is that the doorbell?” I asked, just as I was sitting down to eat dinner.
“Oh!” said Lo, getting up quickly from the table and rushing to the door.
“Oh what?”
“It’s the boys. They’re here to fix the leak.”
“What boys? What leak?”
“You know, Roy and Gary.”
“Oh, the brothers.”
“Yes,” she said, opening the door, letting them in.
They waved awkwardly at me.
“What leak?” I asked again.
“Oh, it’s not leaking yet, but it will be.”
Lo led the boys down the hall to the bedroom. I waited a couple of minutes. When I heard the moans of pleasure, I decided I’m not waiting any longer. I’m eating my dinner.
Suddenly I heard the Beatles playing, drowning out Lola’s voice.
About fifteen minutes later the boys were leaving. As they left, I saw them adjusting the crotches of their pants. They waved goodbye as awkwardly as they had greeted me.
Then Lola reentered the dining room, her face slathered in cum.
She sat down and looked at me, “Are you mad, Daddy?”
“I’m confused. What leak?”
“Oh,” she said, “me. I’m leaking, now.”
Lo Sprung a Leak
“I see. Lo, what is this all about?”
“What Daddy?”
“Having them drop by like this.”
“Well, they need a release. Their mom doesn’t let them see anyone.”
“So you let them in your bubble?”
“I sure did.”
“Lo, they’re so much younger than you.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“I mean, I thought you liked older men.”
“I like to be their sweet release.”
“You’ll get them in trouble with their mother. In fact, you might get in trouble with their mother.”
“She thinks that they’re just being handymen for me.”
“Very handy.”
“And the music?”
“I asked them both to ‘Cum together, right now, over me.’ And they did.”
“I thought you said you were leaking.”
“At that age, they’ve got such needs and. . .”
“And what?”
“And they’re so full!. They both came twice in that short time! Once over me, once in me. And they could have gone for more, I’m sure!”
“Still hungry?”
“Seeing two brothers jackin’ it like that over my naked body. . . YES! I’m soooo hungry!”
“I mean, for dinner.”
“Oh, no. Was it good?”
“You could have told me they were coming over!” I blurted out, not realizing that I was inadvertently speaking a double entendre.
“I didn’t know until they did.”
“But you invited them.”
“Yes, but they both came much faster than I expected.”
“Are we talking about the same thing?”
“I don’t know, are we?”
“How about some dessert?”
“Ok,” she said, “in the bedroom or here?”