Contel Bradford Interviews the Artist JoKoss

[Those of you who have followed us closely and purchased the books know that JoKoss has made a number of great images of Lo, including the cover for our forthcoming book, Slut Life. Here is an interview from Medium.com that Contel Bradford published. It’s reposted here with his consent. Please check out JoKoss. I’m not sure how to support him right now, but he could use it since his exhibits have been canceled due to COVID-19.  All of the images here are by JoKoss and are of Lola Down.]

Cover of the Audio Book with chapters Image by JoKoss

I have a confession: I suck at almost everything. Seriously. Writing is like the only thing I’m halfway decent at. SMH. Damn shame. I think it would be SO cool if I could draw as well as Jo Koss, who took some time to chat it up for The Fetish Files.

How long have you been drawing and when did you realize you were an artist?

Oh I believe I have been drawing since I could pick a pencil up. Then of course I didn’t really have a plan or an idea of becoming an artist.

What inspired you to start drawing nude artwork?

When I tried to pursue a professional career in the comic industry back in the days the first doors that opened were of Adult comics publishers. I think every artists I knew back then followed the same path. I started up actually writing adult comics and eventually I drew many of them as well. Writing was much quicker for me to put down the stories that other artists would illustrate. Even though the comics weren’t very elaborate you could only draw a few panels a day while for the stories I could write a few over a night.

I understand a lot of your work is based on community requests. What is the craziest request you’ve received so far?

Oh there are a few every now and then. I guess the craziest ones are when they send me tiny little details oo portion of photos with even the face masked and they want me to draw a portrait. Other times they would ask very elaborate situations that might take an entire day to figure out, unfortunately I have to turn down those requests because otherwise I wouldn’t have any time to do anything else. But yes, I get a lot of requests from the various communities and socials.

Can you provide some insight into your creative process? Do you use any kind of animation software? Or do you draw everything freehand? I can barely draw a stick dude, so I literally have no clue.

I draw both traditional and digital. Sometimes I would draw by hand and then add colors in Photoshop. It depends on what I have to draw, how I am inspired, time, also where I am. If I am traveling I might draw on one of my sketchbooks and later scan it or just post it as it is.

Cover to Volume III: Writing Under Cover by JoKoss

Do you have a favorite piece you’ve drawn?

Quite a few actually. Hard to pick favorites really. There might be a story behind the picture that would make the work special for me, or the way I made the illustration. I sometimes prefer working in black and white but I enjoy using colors. At times I try to experiment a little.

What role has social media played in growing a following for the Jo Koss brand?

Quite a lot, since through the various sites my pics have been reposted everywhere. I realized that some people printed out my illustration to decorate their skateboards or guitars. I also found some people doing graffitis and murales of my art. Some of the recent ones I saw on Instagram where in Russia. Pretty cool I think.

Seems Tumblr’s hasty ban on adult content impacted many content creators. How did the ban effect you, and where are you currently sharing your work?

Well, that sucked quite a lot. I had to rethink everything. Start a new site, look for alternative communities. It is still in progress. I have lost touch with a lot of followers and that’s a pity but slowly, gradually I have noticed that some of them are reappearing on other communities I signed on. Right now I am on AdultNode, Bdsmlr, Twitter, Instagram, DeviantArt, still trying to find the perfect spot I guess.

I see you’ve published a couple books. Care to tell us about them?

I have a few more in progress. I have collected all the illustrations I made and posted on tumblr and collected in a nice art book. It went sold out and now I will have to reprint it but in the meantime I have made some more illustrations so I am trying to finalize a volume 2 at the same time.

I am also planning a few exhibitions where the books will be also available.

Any new projects we should be on the lookout for?

Yes, something is cooking but I am still not ready to announce it. Most likely I will post on my social something soon.

To see this artwork the way it was meant to be seen, check out Jo Koss.


Contel Bradford is a mystical and complex individual. You can attempt to unravel some of the mystery by visiting his author site at countkrewpublications.com.

Must Read! Must Hear! Must See!

Hello to all of our friends in the blogosphere! We miss you! We see you!

Of course we’re disappointed that Eroticon was called off due to COVID this year. (Not that we could make it.) But we are grateful for the interwebs where we can connect with all of you in a socially safe, yet sexy way.

This is a little news update and the hard-sell for all the new and old stuff that you can get written by HH and featuring your truly, Lo your classy nympho.

You might notice a little bit longer between blog posts for us. That’s because HH has begun a new, long-form piece. Not exactly a novel (because not exactly fiction), but maybe a memoir of sorts. It will be called Rogue’s Gallery. He sees it as a film eventually and has made these creative promo posters for it.

 

 

 

 

 

In addition to this, our favorite narrator, the inimitable and premier erotica voice of Match, Cinder & Spark, Ms. Jupiter Grant, just completed the narration to Volume III: Writing Under Cover. It is out and for sale now on Audible and also Amazon.

You can hear my favorite excerpt from it here:

Though the audiobook lacks the stunning art that the hard-copy book has to offer, Jupiter Grant more than makes up for it with her seductive voice.

In addition to that, HH and I are working on the production of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume VI: Slut Life. It’s a collection of stories that take place at the beach, on the water, or during the fun, slutty, summertime.  It was supposed to be out by now, but we ran into some production hangups. It should be available in early September. Keep an eye out.

Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume II: MORE! Audio Sample

More Cumming Soon

If you have not heard the talented, seductive, incredibly sexy voice of Jupiter Grant, then just scroll down to get a sample that will make you swoon!

She has just completed the audio of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume II: MORE! It’s even more steamy than the first volume.

Below is a little sample as well as an image of the cover with all the chapters listed.

You can purchase your copy HERE or, if you’re in the UK, HERE.

And be sure to check out Jupiter Grant’s blog and her other audio delights!!!!

Much Love,

Lola & HH

From the story, “H.H., You Slut!”

All the pent-up heat, heartbeat, and seductive sweets of Lo are expressed in one color as well: red.  The red of her lips parted with a red tongue tip touching the white of her teeth tell the tale of love and lust, longing and life lived fully.  A lush life filled with libidinous conquests.  The red of her areolae upon her perky breasts, pinched and almost panting for attention and pleasure, pulled and protruding like little buoys beckoning to the passing sailors as they lift and heave upon the bosom of the undulating sea.  The glossy red of her pained fingernails pulling at her red nipples, licked by her red tongue, lightly separating her red labia.  Her pink pussy lips parted and revealing the lush red lining of her luscious labia minora.  The fire engine red of her pedicured toes curling with tense expectation of love’s consummation.  Lying there on the sheen of her red satin sheets, in her sheer red silk negligée, swaddled in the sea of red blankets, she brings herself to a shrieking climax.  Like a siren singing from the darkness, her voice reverberates with pleasure up and down the octaves as her convulsing body rhythmically dances to the command of her virtuosic finger on her clit.

Red, the symbol of the forbidden district.  Red, the enticing sign of danger and vitality.  Red, the fruit’s color of poison and fertility.  Red, the color of flame.  Red, the color of caution and calling.  Red is the apple tossed to Paris.  Red is the sea – wet and parted to receive the host.  Red is the sky in the night and morn.  Red is the blood when the finger is pricked by the red rose’s thorn.  Red is my Lo’s mind filled with diabolical thoughts.  Red is the devil whose brimming brow spouts thorns.  Red is life when it is born.  Red is the cheek when it is warm.  Red is my heart when for Lo it longs.  Red are all things forbidden – from knowledge’s treats to vulgar porn.  Red is the color of this song.

Lo, look at how you entrance me!  How you bewitch me!  How you have me in your spell!  I have gone mad!  I write my book of love and inscribe each page with your refulgent image.  I sing your praises to Heaven’s foundations that the angels might find respite from their constant bliss and repent their having not been remiss.

Cover of the Audio Book with chapters

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

[Hi everyone! We hope that you boys & girls reading this from home are all safe and healthy. We know you’re sexy! We’re interrupting our usual programing of the mini-series “Mount Bliss” to bring you this story. You, our longtime readers and fans, probably know that most of the stories you read here are true, but HH takes a long time to craft them and so they are not usually about what is happening NOW. This is a little different.  It was featured in the May edition of Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM) Magazine (p. 38).  It’s appropriate not only because it tell you how we are dealing with life under lockdown, but also it’s appropriate since May is Masturbation Month!  We hope you enjoy and we love to hear your stories of how you are doing: downloladown@gmail.com]

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

“Fuck me,” she said, “Yeah, like that.”

I looked in the slightly ajar door to see just whom Lola could be fucking during a mandatory lockdown in a global pandemic.

“Oh, yeah,” she cooed as she lay, splayed out on the bed, one hand up inside her, the other squeezing her tits.

She was fucking herself and, apparently telling herself just how much she enjoyed it.

Desperate times, I suppose.

We had been in lockdown for two weeks.  It wasn’t so bad.  We were in Florida, by the beach, which eventually got closed down.  But we had a pool.  That too got closed the second week.  Now, all we had was each other and our health – a lot to be thankful for, no doubt, but not nearly enough for Lo.

We were both working remotely.  It was a little past one in the afternoon.  I was trying to do a conference call to Ms. Gale, my secretary, and one other person, but the moans and groans, gasps and grunts from the bedroom could be heard throughout the small apartment we were renting.  When she transitioned to actual words like “Fuck me.  Yeah, like that,” I had to make an excuse to hang up and go check on my nympho in the bedroom.

I politely waited until she was done – or at least taking a pause from her self-pleasure.

“Lo, come on!”

“What Daddy?”

“It’s one-fifteen.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Don’t you have work to do as well?”

“I’ve always had an hour of me-time scheduled every day on my work calendar, even before this whole Coronavirus thing.  Everyone knows not to bother me for this hour.”

“Do they know what you’re doing on your ‘me-time’?”

“Oh no, Daddy.  Well, I mean, I guess some of them probably have their suspicions.”

“Let me tell you, if you’re as loud in your office as you are here, then everyone knows.”

“I’m sorry, Daddio.  But I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just fuck me.”

“We fucked last night and this morning.”

“So, why not this afternoon?”

“If I fucked you as much as you want it, then I certainly would die during this pandemic, but not from the virus!”

“It’s good exercise.”

“It seems like the only exercise you’ve been getting.”

“Well, the gym’s closed.  Besides, the CDC said that the safest sex anyone can have right now is with themselves.”

“The CDC did not say that!”

“Someone said that.”

“Probably you.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Good grief!  Well, try to keep the sound effects to a minimum.  OK?  I have calls to make.”

While I work the day away, Lola plays.  She carries on about five to ten affairs from afar with various men and women.  Her friend, Nero Black, posted about jacking to her photos while his wife, who rarely gives up her goodies to him, jills it in the next room to taboo incest literotica.  Yet, the married boy best beware if she happens to walk in on him in the onanistic act of worshipping Ms. Down.  Lo has frequently suggested (nay, more than suggested, demanded) that Nero direct his partner’s web browser to mysexlifewithlola, or, at the very least, put the two of them in contact with each other.  But, as of yet, he has refrained.  Many-a-night I’ve had to hear from Lo about how she would have treated the two of them if she were their couples counselor.

Lo is friends with a lovely married couple from NJ, Mike and Danielle.  Mike has been a stay-at-home-dad to his two young daughters while Danielle has done the 9-to-5 at the office.  This has left Mike with time to chat with Lo and fap to Lo when the girls are down for a nap.  Luckily, unlike with Mr. Black, this has all been on the up-and-up with his wife Danielle.  In fact, not only with her blessing, but her encouragement.  She loves to come home and see the cumtributes her husband made to and for Lola.  Then, after the kids are put to bed, they turn on Lo’s pixilated pussy and fuck each other while looking at Lola.

Sharing Couple from NJ Hubby’s Cumtribute to Lola

Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories

Sharing Couple of NJ Getting off to Lo

 

Of course, for Lola this is more fodder for the fapper.

Then there’s Floss and Nikki of FlossDoesLife and LoveIsAFetish, respectively.  They both have written raving reviews of the Match, Cinder & Spark books and, what gets Lo going even more, took sexy pics of themselves getting off to the printed page.  What else are you going to do in isolation?

Floss & Lola

Nikki of LoveIsAFetish getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Both Matt and Nelson of tehben.com have also written glowing, yet critical reviews of the audiobook, narrated by the inimitable Jupiter Grant.

The Beautiful Jupiter Grant

Not only do the reviews get Lo riled up, but Lo listens to Jupiter recite tales of Lo’s ribald antics just about every night, which causes her to alternately laugh and lunge in the bed next to me.

Then there’s the various women Lola’s attempting to seduce via sexy chat: Chelle Silverstein, Francesca Demont, and a woman who goes by the cyber-chat name of Warm Skin. 

Warm Skin Getting off to Lo

Don’t get me wrong, this whole ordeal has taken its toll on all of us in so many ways, and Lo is not exempt from that.  There are the nights that Lo can’t sleep due to anxiety about losing her job.  Afternoons that Lo returns from food shopping and has a full-blown panic attack that she has contracted the virus and is certain to pass it on to me.  Lo’s greatest fear? – dying alone.  That means, if I die first, which is more than likely given our age difference, then who will be there for her?  So, worse than her getting sick, in her mind, is my getting sick and dying!  There is the frequent fretting about family members who are already fighting this virus in far-flung points on the map.  Yes, we don’t talk about family too much here, but we do have relatives who are now among the ever-growing statistics you read about in the news.

For Lo, the go-to stress relief from all this ever-higher mountain of seen and unseen woe is found right between her legs.

Lo practicing Social Distancing Stress Relief, pass it along.

Finally, of course, there is just your straight-up porn that Lo has been watching.  Lo has a penchant for amateur porn and her latest infatuation is with the couple Lindsey and Mike Love.  Just as Lo and I fulfill the fantasies of many of our fans, I believe, Lindsey and Mike live out the fantasy life of Lo.  A married couple who enthusiastically got into porn together from the tender age of eighteen and rise to amateur stardom, getting rich and having fun.  I think the thing that Lo likes the most about the pair is that they have a real relationship, a story, and that they are very open to exploring sex with all genders, together and solo.

An hour later, Lo emerged from the bedroom.  “Daddy, it’s hot in there.  Will you help me open the window?”

I entered Lo’s lair of self-love.  I opened the window with ease to let in the ocean breeze, but it immediately deflated downward.

“Is it broken?” asked Lo.

“I don’t know.  It definitely doesn’t stay up like it used to.”

Without missing a beat she quips, “I’m sure you can relate.”

Stay safe everyone and we’ll see you on the internet.

Lola in all her glorly!

Slut Seminar

[We take a break from our regularly scheduled programming of “Mount Bliss” in order to bring you this brief story that was published in the April Issue of ENM Magazine (Ethical Non-Monogamy). ENM only launched in January of this year and now, due to COVID-19, is struggling. Please stop by and support them. Thanks.]

“It is hard to imagine ‘slut’ being reclaimed the way ‘queer’ was, as a respectable label for academic programs and cultural centers.” (“Slut: The Other Four Letter S-Word,” on Fresh Air, WHYY, NPR, March 13, 2012)

The course was only open to graduate students and doctoral candidates.  They were mostly from the Women’s Studies department, but some were from English and/or Comp. Lit.  One or two were from the Philosophy department and one from the Religious Studies/Theology department.  It didn’t matter where they came from; what mattered was that they came.

Slut Seminar

This was the cutting edge of academia: Slut Studies.  The syllabus was a stroll down all the dark, forbidden stacks of the salacious, suggestive, censored and censured, prurient, perverted, plucky and poetic pornographic literature of the centuries.

It culminated with an in-depth reading and analysis of Match, Cinder & Spark.  The professor was only a few years older than the students, if that.  The student body was female and most of them either lusted for or loathed the professor because she was either the woman they wanted to bed or the woman they wanted to be.

They listened intently to her lectures and were eager to contribute to the lively debate about the nature of the nympho.

The English Lit student, Yael, said, “I think that Lola is a metaphor, a symbol, maybe even a mythic archetype.”

“Of what?” replied the professor.

“Of the receptive, open, accepting, and limber principle of life.  The Great Feminine.  And her squirting episodes are emblematic of the fluidity of life.”

“Like Yin in Taoism?” inquired the professor.

“Or it could be the other way around,” chimed in the Theology student.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the professor, genuinely confused.

“I mean. . .” began Sarah, the seminarian, searching for the right formulation of her thoughts, “that maybe we need to reimage our notion of God.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said the professor.  “How does that relate to the text?”

“Well, for millennia, God was understood as a stern, strict, father figure.  Or, even if we look at the New Testament, a chaste, pure, abstemious saintly sufferer.  There’s little room for pleasure, sex, sexuality, or love that borders on desire in those paradigms.  Without a sex-positive godhead, how can you be sex-positive giving head?”

There were some chuckles in the classroom at that comment.

“No, seriously,” she implored, “maybe Lola is the avatar of a sex-positive spirituality.”

“That seems to bring us right back to Plato’s Diotima,” the professor said, trying to reframe the discussion and put it on an academic foundation.

“I don’t see why we have to contextualize the cunt in such highfalutin imagery,” interrupted one Marxist from the class.

The professor wasn’t sure if her use of “cunt” was literal or synecdoche.

“I mean,” said Mandy the Marxist, “there’s a direct correlation between the pussy and the personality.  It’s that simple.  Open, warm, welcoming, easy, or tight, closed, and constricting.  One either gives and receives or one is greedy and rejecting.”

To that comment, there was a big uproar in the class.  It seemed everyone wanted to criticize Mandy.

One voice eventually won out over the din.  “That is so black and white!  So dualistic!”  It was Penny, the philosopher.  “You Marxists are just Hegelian dialectical materialists.  It’s either/or with you.”

“Please, please,” refereed the professor, “There’s no need to be so personal.”

“I’m not being personal,” said Penny.  “I’m not attacking Mandy.  Just her philosophical assumptions.”

“Well, let’s make sure that we’re all clear about that,” the professor said, trying to keep the calm.

“Lola is more complex than goddess/whore, open/closed, yin/yang.  Yes, she has a lot of sex, with herself and others.  But, ultimately, she’s just human with human foibles, human desires, and she’s flesh and blood.”

“She’s a literary character,” interrupted Yael.

“I mean,” said Penny, “she’s depicted like a human of flesh and blood.”

“Actually,” said the professor, “she is a human of flesh and blood.”

“What?” gasped many of the women.

“Well, yeah,” said the professor, a bit embarrassed that she let the pussy out of the bag.  “I know her.”

“You know her?!” one of the students asked in disbelief.  “I thought this was fiction.”

“It says right on it ‘roman à clef,’” she said.

“Meaning?” asked one of the students.

“That’s a look-it-up question,” shot back the surly professor.  She had no patience for graduate students who don’t use the incredibly convenient tools at their disposal, like the internet.  “It means a text in which the characters are based on real people, but their identities are slightly concealed.”

“So Lola is a real person and you know her?”

The professor nodded.

They were all on the edge of their seats waiting for her to reveal more.

“I think now is a good time to take a break,” said the professor.

Hotwives in Training

While outside the classroom, the students chatted, musing amongst themselves, “Do you think she is Lola?” one asked, referring to the hot professor.

“No way,” said another.

“Could be,” pondered a third.

“I bet she is Lola,” said a fourth.

“You’re totally wrong,” said another.

“How do you know?”

“Because, it’s a ‘look-it-up question’,” she said, mimicking the professor’s snide tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I looked up Lola Down and found so much!”

Everyone took out their phones and started looking her up.

Ooos and Ahhhs were heard before they were stifled as the professor walked by and all the women compared what they saw on their phones to the professor’s curvy figure in her tight dress as she pranced past them.

They followed her in, each formulating a theory about the fount of her personality.

Yael Wolfe

 

[This story was inspired by Yael Wolfe (@yaelwolfehowls). Lola & HH also are very thankful to the gentlemen at Tehben.com (Matthew Burroughs and Nelsen Rockingham) who have thoughtfully reviewed three of the Match, Cinder & Spark books. We avidly welcome other scholars, such as John of astijake.wordpress.com and Dr. Kasey Butcher of phdsandpigtails.com, to write a scholarly review.]

Kasey Butcher, Ph.D.

Farm to Table

[Continued from “Tuesday’s Tale.”]

Though her brief email Tuesday morning gave me some indication as to what was going on in vacationland, it left me with so many more questions: What were Lo and Lily wearing to bed?  Just how many times did Lo masturbate?  What was Lily’s reaction?  Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for my answers.  Lo knows me well.  As soon as she sent the email, she also texted me to alert me to its dispatch and she said, “Tell me when you’re done reading it.”

I texted her back and she immediately called me with her very sexy, sultry voice.

“Hi Daddy.”

I was at work.  I couldn’t respond in kind.

“Tell me, how is your vacation?” I asked in a quasi-formal tone.

“Mmmmmmm,” was all I heard from the other end of the line.  Her answer left a lot to the imagination.

“Lo, I can’t really talk right now, so. . .”

“We’re going out today, Daddy,” she said, interrupting me.  “I’ll call you later, ok?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Do you miss me?”

“Very much.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“What?”

“Do you want me to come?”

Was she masturbating on the phone?  I had no idea.  It wouldn’t be unheard of.  But then she added, “home.”  “Do you want me to come home?” she asked.

“I miss you, Lo.  But have a good time.  Call me tonight?”

“I miss you too.  Gotta run,” she said hastily.  “Kisses!”  Then she hung up.

I didn’t hear back from her that night.  It wasn’t until Wednesday morning that I got word from her and that meant I slept almost not at all Tuesday night.

Wednesday morning she sent me a photo that appeared to be her giving an incredibly tiny cock a hand-job, but it was hard to tell exactly.

The text that accompanied the picture simply said, “Getting a lot of practice for you, Daddy.  Do you miss me?”  I received those at about 7:45 Wednesday morning, before I went to work.  I asked her to call me, but she didn’t respond.  After another poor night of sleep for me, this was just too much to bear.

When she called later Wednesday, she caught me at work yet again.  I sat at my desk and heard her phone-sex voice as I tried to remain poker-faced.  I felt like a wax statue exposed to a hot fire.  She melted me inside, but I remained stoic externally.

She gave me the details of Tuesday’s excursion.  After a small breakfast at home, Collin had announced that he had very special dinner plans for Lily and Lola.  It was too cloudy and cool for the boat on the lake and so, he suggested a different outing.  Suzanne wasn’t going to join.  Collin said the girls should wear clothes they could get dirty in.  Lo’s curiosity was piqued.  Lo wore her denim skirt and a white, semi-transparent tank top.  No panties, no bra.

Soon the girls were in the Jeep with Collin riding across the terrain again, which frightened Lo half to death, but also exhilarated her.  Collin brazenly had his hand on Lo’s knee the entire ride.

They arrived at a farm, about a half hour from the cottage.  Collin explained to Lo and Lily that dinner was literally going to be a farm-to-table experience, but that he had arranged for the girls to work on the farm first to “earn your keep.”  The girls were game.  “You know how I love the country life,” said Lo over the phone.

Their chores included picking the fruit: peaches, apples, nectarines.  That required Lo to climb up the ladders while Colin held them in place, giving him the perfect view up her skirt.

Then they had to move the bales of hay.  This was very difficult for them, but Collin came in with a tractor and they were able to stack the hay properly.

Collin then let the girls take turns driving the tractor around the perimeter of the property before the girls were really put to work in the barn.  They had to milk the goats.  (So that’s what that picture was!)  Lo told me how good she was at it due to her wide experience using her hands with the same movement.

The GOAT

“Mr. H.,” said Ms. Gale, my secretary, barging into my office.

“What?” I almost barked at her.

“There is a client here to see you.”

“With an appointment?”

“No.”

“Tell whomever it is, I’m busy.”

“But. . .”

“Busy!  And please close the door behind you Ms. Gale.”

She exited.

“If you’re busy Daddy. . .” began Lo.

“No, I want to hear the rest of your story,” I said, sounding almost desperate.

She went on to tell me that after milking the goats, they had to churn the milk into butter.  She bragged again about how expert she was at that and insinuated that she also had a lot of practice.

Finally, after doing their chores on the farm, Collin took the girls for a horseback ride, bareback, to a park where they had a little snack of fresh baked bread, the butter they had made, some cheese, and the fruit they had picked.  Lo informed me that she sat in such a way to allow Collin more views of her pink, ripe delights.

Lo asked me, “Do you prefer peach or nectarine, Daddy?”

“Are you referring to fruit, Lo?” I asked, perplexed.

“What do you think?” she teased.

“Well,” I said, “when you left, you were peach.”

“Let’s just say I’m nectarine now.  And very juicy.”

I could hardly handle it.  She knows how to entice me.  “Show me,” I said.

She said I should wait a minute, hung up, and then texted me a pic.  It was not exactly what I had expected: a photo of a peach next to a nectarine.

“Very funny,” I typed back.

Then she followed it with a photo of her shaved pussy peeking out of her short denim skirt.

Collin’s View?

“What happened next?” I asked, impatient to hear her whole story and a bit scared she’d scamper off again to do who-knows-what before getting to the end of her day.

After lunch, Lo told me, they went to town and browsed through the little knick-knack stores, antique stores, art galleries, and bookshops.  Lo said she found one book that she showed to Collin to get his attention.  It was an anthology of erotica.  She asked Collin if he or his wife enjoy naughty reads.

But before telling me his answer, she simply told me that he was more than happy to buy the book for her and she sent me a little photo to prove it.

Erotic Crotch

After their excursion to town, they returned to the farm/restaurant for dinner, but, just as she was launching into her “I’ve got a sexy story to tell you” voice, Ms. Gale again interrupted.

“Mr. H., that client is still here.  Will you see him?”

Infuriated, I made my apologies to Lo and hung up, more frustrated than Coleridge when the visitor from Porlock arrived.

 

A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition

“A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition” first appeared in ENM (Ethical Non-Monogamy) Magazine, March, 2020 issue.

It was said by the renowned sex researcher, Alfred Kinsey, that “A nymphomaniac is someone who has more sex than you do.”  It would seem that modern psychology has caught up with Kinsey’s insight.  The dictionary of psychological disorders, the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), removed nymphomania from its list in 1980.  But does that mean Nymphomania no longer exists?

In popular culture “sex addiction” has been used as a catch-all for a number of “disorders” that have been named and described: hypersexuality, compulsive sexual behavior, erotomania, hyperfilia, etc.  But the DSM puts almost all of these under one listing: Sexual Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.  This heading is as ambiguous, amorphous, and as slippery as the subject itself.

However, let’s keep in in mind that no matter how something is categorized or listed, it’s not a “disorder” unless it is distressing to the person exhibiting it or has detrimental effects in one’s life.  If the result of the behavior is a net negative, then it could be labeled a disorder.  That net negative could be manifested psychologically, as in feelings of guilt and remorse, or could result in actual physical harm to oneself.  Other net negatives could include weakening of relationships, loss of a job, or other harms external to oneself.

Fan, getting off to Lo at work

In modern European and American culture, nymphomania has as checkered a past as the women diagnosed with it.  Even though there is a male correlate to it – satyriasis – the two labels have been employed in radically different ways.  Historically, the ascription of “nymphomaniac” has been applied to women who, had their gender been ascribed to men and the behaviors described as those of men, rarely would they be described as afflicted with satyriasis.  In other words, historically, women exhibiting the same healthy and robust sexuality of men would be diagnosed with a disorder while their male counterparts gained the praise and admiration of others as Don Juans.

But, in the last decade or so, with the rise of internet porn, the term “sex addict” has been increasingly utilized in less stereotypical and gender specific, patriarchal ways.  Famous actors such as Rob Lowe, David Duchovny, and Charlie Sheen all have come out as being sex addicts, making it easier for others to do so.

Despite the DSM debunking the myth of nymphomania and our modern society’s willingness to embrace a more gender-neutral term applicable to men and women, the term “nymphomania” and its connotations continues to live on in the culture’s consciousness and the collective unconscious.

Fan, getting off to Lo

Nymphomania is a concept that has a history to it almost as old as civilization itself.  In Jewish lore there was Lilith, the contemporary or predecessor of Eve, who refused to be subservient to Adam and, supposedly, insisted on taking the “top” position during sex.  Her name is derived from the Hebrew for “night” and she is associated with other female night demons who seduce men.  As such, she is a succubus.  This tale probably has its origin in explaining men’s nocturnal emissions.

Throughout history, assertive women and sexually promiscuous women have been associated with the demonic.  Accusing a woman of being a witch was one way of marginalizing or eradicating powerful and lustful women.  In more recent times, diagnosing them as hysterical was another.  Perhaps if we rewrote history as “hystery” (from the Greek, hyster, meaning “womb”) we would have different stories to tell.  But, from the ancient Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, in which the goddess of love, Ishtar, unsuccessfully tries to seduce the hero, and the temple prostitute, Shamhat, successfully seduces and thereby defiles the natural man of the wild, Enkidu, to Helen of Troy, whose face and unfaithful figure launched a thousand ships, to the Sirens and Calypso, all the way through to Gatsby’s fair Daisy Fay Buchanan, wanton women have been revered and rebuked by the West’s confused attitude toward female sexuality.

In the West, only Virgins, like Mary, and doting, devoted wives, like Penelope and Henry James’ Isabel Archer, get univocal approval.

(The East, by contrast, is not as uncomfortable with strong, sexual, and wise women.  From Cali to Guan Yin, not only are they revered and worshiped, but even the gender ambiguity of Vishnu is given prominence.)

Even in the contemporary medium of myth-telling – movies – the nymphomaniac is never depicted as anything but pathological and her fate is always a morality tale told from the point of view of the negative exemplar.  Lolita, the touchstone of our modern-day horny heroine, has been made into a movie twice: once in 1962 by Kubrick and once in 1997 by Adrian Lyne.  Based upon the classic book by Nabokov, the films and the book stand in a league of their own.  The ultimate fate of Nabokov’s Lolita (spoiler alert) is morally ambiguous.  Clearly a letdown to the pedophile protagonist, Humbert Humbert, when he finds his life-long love at the end of the book, we are never given any insight into mature Lolita’s feelings of fulfillment in family or lack thereof.  However, it is, perhaps, too hasty to say that there have only been two Lolita films made.  One of the most popular tropes in porn is Lolita.  In this way the myth of the nymph lives on and on.

Lola Down, 21st Century Lolita

Other films, such as Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac and Craig Brewer’s Black Snake Moan, put nymphomania front and center.  However, in both, the female protagonist is depicted as pitifully damaged and pathologically in need of redemption.  In the latter film, that redemption takes the form of Christina Ricci, dressed only in her panties and a cutoff t-shirt, being chained to a cast iron heating radiator by a strong black man (Samuel L. Jackson).  As psychologically dubious as this “treatment” might be, it could be said that the film gets to some deep, underlying archetypical images and fantasies buried in the American collective unconscious by playing on race, gender, and slave tropes.

The former film, Nymphomania, as drab and sexually non-stimulating as it is, does get to some diagnostic characteristics.  As Robert Weiss, founder of the Sexual Recovery Institute, has discussed in his “Thoughts on Nymphomaniac: Volume I,” in the Huffington Post, March 20, 2014:

Nymphomaniac: Volume I is “sex addiction accurate.”

  • Joe’s sexual exploits start out (rather early in life) as innocent and fun-seeking, but before long she’s using them less for enjoyment and more for escape. This is typical. Simply put, addicts of all types engage in their addictions not to feel better, but to feel less.
    • Joe views men as objects — a means to sexual gratification — rather than seeing them as equals and potential partners in emotional intimacy. When her lies actually ruin one man’s life, she feels nothing for either him or his wife and kids. Nor does she change her behavior.
    • Joe spends nearly all of her free time pursuing sex. She has no other interests or hobbies.
    • Joe’s sexual activity escalates in both amount and intensity. She has more and more partners as her addiction progresses, and she engages in ever-more risky behaviors.
    • Joe’s response to any sort of emotional crisis is sex. When her father is terminally ill in the hospital, she has sex with an attendant. Later, she experiences sexual arousal at his deathbed.
    • Joe seeks a sense of control and power through sex. For instance, she ‘allows’ or ‘forbids’ certain activities. At one point she speaks to Seligman about ‘privileges’ granted to one of her regular sex partners. Using sex to feel ‘in control’ is common with sex addicts, especially with female sex addicts.
    • Joe appears to have not bonded appropriately with her ‘cold hearted bitch’ of a mother, relying on her father for kindness and nurture. Her childhood flashbacks show that she learned ways to ‘please’ her father, and that doing so was incredibly important. Even though their relationship does not appear to have been sexual or otherwise abusive, it is clear that she learned early on that the way to get love from men is to please them. This type of dysfunctional childhood bonding is common in sex addicts of both genders.
    • By the end of the film, Joe’s entire life (not just her sex life) has become ‘monotonous and pointless.’ She compares her daily movements to those of a caged animal. Everything she does is rote and repetitious, and nothing has any meaning — especially not the sex. At one point she says to a partner, during sex, ‘I can’t feel anything,’ and it is clear that she is talking about both physical numbness and emotional numbness.

Though Weiss points out in the article that female sex addicts are often ascribed “highly shaming labels” such as nympho, slut, tramp, and whore, “that society routinely attaches to women who have a lot of sex, regardless of whether they do so because they enjoy it” or not, he does not in any way discuss the possibility of a positive nymphomaniacal experience in which those labels are coopted into accolades.

The linguist Geoff Nunberg has pointed out that many one-time derogatory and profane words have been coopted and reappropriated by the subjugated, marginalized, and oppressed populations against whom the slurs were originally leveled.  As he says about the term “slut,” “after a Toronto police constable told a crime prevention meeting that women should avoid dressing like sluts if they don’t want to be victimized,” “slut walks” served as a way “to protest the whole culture of slut-shaming.”  He points out that, “it is hard to imagine ‘slut’ being reclaimed the way ‘queer’ was, as a respectable label for academic programs and cultural centers.” (“Slut: The Other Four Letter S-Word,” on Fresh Air, WHYY, NPR, March 13, 2012)

This sort of reevaluation of values is exactly what Lo is literally embodying, pushing psychology today to free itself from the prejudices of patriarchy.  She wears the labels “slut,” “tramp,” “whore,” and yes, “nymphomaniac” proudly (and she often wears little else).  Between us, we use the words “nymphomania” and “slut” as honorifics rather than stigmatizing terms.  Every slur can be reclaimed and used subversively by the oppressed.

There is some evidence that lustful, liberated women are making inroads into the tyranny of normativity.  Thinkers such as Rollo May have proposed a theory of the daimonic, hearkening back to the origin of “demonic” as coming from the Greek “daimon.”  For the Greeks, daimon meant something more akin to a personal deity; a guiding angel, you might say, rather than a guardian angel.

May uses the term “daimonic” to denote a drive that is not univocal in nature and, in one word, is akin to Freud’s dual Eros/Thanatos drives.  As May says of the daimonic, it “has the power to take over the whole person.  Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples.  The daimonic can be either creative or destructive and is normally both.”  (May, Rollo, Love and the Daimonic, p. 123)  It is worth mentioning here that, before May and Freud, there was a theory of human psychology in Judaism that posited two chambers in the heart: the yetzer tov and the yetzer ra.  The former, “the impulse for good,” and the latter, “the impulse for evil,” worked in tandem and the rabbis believed that neither was “evil” (unlike the proverbial Christian good angel and devil on one’s shoulders), but that the yetzer ra was a force that propelled humans to creativity and sexual union, but it needed to be bent toward the yetzer tov in order to avoid its destructive tendency and be sublimated into socially acceptable expressions and activities that benefited society.  One can easily see the parallels between that and Freud’s Eros/Thanatos theory.  Perhaps “parallel,” is too benign.  Maybe Freud was more plagiarizing from his own tradition.  In line with this theory of complementarity, May has said, “The daimonic (unlike the demonic, which is merely destructive), is as much concerned with creativity as with negative reactions.”  (Diamond, Stephen A., Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic: The Psychological Genesis of Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic, from the Forward by Rollo May, p. xxi)

In the nymphomaniac, the daimonic drive has been described as a propensity toward indiscriminate, compulsive, and often risky sexual behavior.  To the extent that this is dangerous, harmful, and results in negative net results, it is “pathological.”

But that’s not the whole story.

As was mentioned above, the daimonic is also the engine driving creativity and the nymphomaniac can use her prurient powers for good, positive, “healthy” outcomes.  As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the pioneer psychologist in the study of “flow” or “optimal experience,” has said, “One manifestation of energy is sexuality. Creative people are paradoxical in this respect also. They seem to have quite a strong dose of eros, or generalized libidinal energy, which some express directly into sexuality.”  (Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly, “The Creative Personality,” Psychology Today, 1996, p. 38) I believe that the reverse of this is true as well: One manifestation of sexuality is creative energy.  Perhaps that is because, as Csikszentmihalyi also says, “a certain spartan celibacy is also a part of [the creative person’s] makeup; continence tends to accompany superior achievement. Without eros, it would be difficult to take life on with vigor; without restraint, the energy could easily dissipate.”  (Ibid.)  Of course, the nymphomaniac is characterized by her lack of “continence,” but that does not mean that her prodigal participation in pleasure isn’t also a creative, artistic, and perhaps even a performative act.  Seeing sex and art as two separate realms is the fundamental error in this analysis.  Sex can be every bit a creative endeavor, full of “flow” and genius as a Picasso or Pollock painting.  The only difference being that the “results” are fleeting, ephemeral, perhaps even “dissipated.”

In my particular case, I would say that writing about Lola Down, my own personal high priestess of porn and beloved nymphomaniac, is also a result of the daimonic and the writing often flows of its own accord in peak moments, like autographia.  According to Csikszentmihalyi, flow is the experience of intense concentration during creative endeavors.  For me, that describes the act of writing.  For Lo, that describes the act of fucking.  For me, the restraint and “continence” is crucial to produce just the right amount of effulgent energy.  But for Lo, her creative power may be more akin to “the woman who identifies with the archetypal role of Muse or femme inspiratrice, providing sexual love to artists.” (Diamond, Stephen A., “What Motivates Sexual Promiscuity?” Psychology Today, 2011)

This is not to say that Lo doesn’t have her own creative endeavors, her own talents, interests, and areas of outstanding achievement.  Far from it!  But she does love being celebrated as muse, not only by me, but by all the artists who have been inspired to draw or paint her, as well as those who have written lovely verse and prose to her and about her.  In addition, she frequently hears from women and men and couples who credit her as an inspiration in the bedroom.  Frequently these accolades are accompanied by “tribute” photos of the men, women, and couples cumming to her inspiring images.

As much as all this worship is proudly welcomed by Lo, it is also of concern how many people – mostly men, but some women – write in to lament that, for them, the nymphomaniac is akin to some sort of mythical figure, a unicorn, a phoenix, or the Holy Grail.  These awestruck admirers cannot believe that one actually exists, in the flesh, as it were.  They had heard rumor of such creatures, but had never met one or received confirmation of their reality.  Lo, like the Holy Grail, is for them a receptacle into which they can pour forth all of their hopes and dreams (and bodily exuberances) and also a cup that runneth over, spilling forth for all who thirst for her baptismal water.

Is this perceived paucity of nymphos due to the stigma attached to the term, repression of sexuality, or a failure to recognize and reclaim the term in a positive light?  I don’t have the answer to these questions, but one thing was clear early on in my relationship with Lo – I was unable to find anyone writing about their nymphomaniacal girlfriend and the great challenges such relationships entail.  So I began writing about it in a public forum in order to inform others and also to find out if others could inform me.  It’s been a fun and enlightening journey and I thank all of you for your words of wisdom, encouragement, and envy.  But most of all, I thank Lo for opening me up to all new vistas of life’s possibilities.

email downloladown@gmail.com for more info

Birthday Sex

After the fiasco that was our double date with Mark and Stephanie to see the play, In the Next Room, remarkably, we got an invitation to join them for dinner to celebrate Mark’s birthday.  He was turning thirty-five and Stephanie had invited over three couples, including us.  That made for eight people, including the man of honor and his lovely wife.

I saw Lola dolling herself up for the party and I said to her, “Look, I don’t want any shenanigans out of you tonight.”

“Can I have some shenanigans in me?”

“No!”

“Daddy,” she said in a sweet voice, putting her hand on my chest and rubbing it, “what are shenanigans?”

“Lo, don’t play dumb with me.  You know exactly what I’m talking about.  Last time they were here, you broadcast your masturbatory movies over the speaker system and I had to make apologies to our guests.  This time we are going to be their guests, so please just let it be an uneventful evening.”

“But that’s so boring, Daddy,” she pouted.

“Boring or not, I’m keeping you on a short leash.”  I immediately regretted my choice of words.

Her ears picked up and her eyes opened wide, “A leash?!  Yes,” she said, putting up her hands like a dog begging for scraps.

“We leave in five minutes,” I said, ending the exchange.

Eighteen and a half minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom wearing a sheer blouse and her cutoff denim shorts – cutoff a bit too short – high heels, and nothing but smooth, sexy skin between the shoes and the denim.

“You’re not actually wearing that, are you?”

She turned up her nose at me and said, “I certainly am!  What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, if you’re dressed as Daisy Duke for Halloween.  But this is a birthday dinner.”

Sheer Top

“Hrmph,” she grunted, defiantly.  “It’s July and it’s hot and I’m hot and I’m wearing this.”

“But your shorts have holes in them,” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, my shorts have two holes in them, and if I’m lucky, I’ll get both of them filled.”

“That’s not what. . .” I gave up, exasperated.

When we arrived, around six, we rang the bell and were let in by Stephanie.  She seemed very glad to see us and led us into the living room where everyone was congregated.  We were the last to arrive.

To my great surprise, she hadn’t invited three couples.  That, apparently, was my assumption.  No.  She had invited four other women and us.  That still made for eight altogether, but it was six women, Mark and me.  I was by far the oldest.  All the women were in their thirties, except Lo, who was in her twenties.  Mark and Stephanie had dropped their kids off with her parents and the only other member of the house was their dog who immediately took an interest in Lo, putting his snout in her crotch and sniffing as soon as we were in the door.  My first thought was, “She’s not wearing panties under those shorts I bet.”

Short Shorts

We introduced ourselves and sat in the loveseat.  Mark, the man of the hour, was seated in a large recliner.  The other women and Stephanie were on the sectional couch.  I immediately thought of an episode of “The Bachelor.”  I felt like I was the T.V. camera viewing all these women vying for Mark’s attention.  Apparently Lo wasn’t the only one with the hots for him.  But why, I wondered, had Stephanie invited them all over?  And why did she invite us?

Then I remembered what Stephanie had said to me the night she and Mark threw the Super Bowl party.  With tears in her eyes, she said that she hadn’t had a sex drive since their second kid was born, but she wanted Mark to be happy.  Was this a set-up for him? – Happy birthday, darling, have your pick of the women.

I could tell, just by looking at Lo and how she practically bared her breasts to Mark every time she reached for an appetizer on the coffee table, that she was mentally making the very same calculations as I.  If that was Stephanie’s game, then Lo was keen on being the winner.

The conversation turned to the heat wave we were experiencing and Lo made some remark about how good the AC felt.  As she said it, I could see her nipples clearly protruding through the thin white material of her blouse.  Yep, she was cooling down alright, just as she was heating things up.

I was curious about these other four women.  Who were they?  I didn’t remember them from the Super Bowl party.

I eventually found out that Mark didn’t know them either.  They were friends of Stephanie’s and new friends at that.  Lo had an in; she was the oldest friend Mark had there, and also the youngest.

Stephanie brought drinks and Lo got more comfortable.  She slipped out of her heels and I noticed that she had gotten a pedicure and manicure.  Her little toes looked like shiny red candy, as did her fingernails.

Even with the AC on, the cold drinks had condensation dripping down the sides, and I suspect that that wasn’t all that was dripping.

Stephanie said she wanted to do presents before dinner and that we had to go outside for Mark’s gift.

We all filed out the front door except Stephanie.  When we were in the front yard, we were all wondering what was going to happen.  Suddenly the garage door opened and, voilà!  Stephanie was standing by a Honda CG 150.  “Ta-da!” she said.

Mark was super excited and he practically ran up to the bike and gave Stephanie a big kiss.

“Let’s go for a ride!” he said to her.  But she declined, using getting dinner ready as an excuse.  “Anyone?” he asked to us.  Of course, Lola immediately volunteered.

Stephanie passed her a helmet and after Mark got on, she hopped on, swinging her right leg over the machine, practically exposing the two holes she had mentioned earlier.  She slid up behind Mark, resting her hands on his broad shoulders.
“I thought you were terrified of motorcycles?” I asked her.

“I am.  But I’ll just have to hold on tight,” she said, reaching around Mark’s waist.

Mark started the machine and revved it up and I saw how excited the sound made Lo.  Off they went, the back of her bum peeking out of the top of her short shorts.

The rest of us went inside.

The other women went into the living room and I offered to help Stephanie with dinner.

“Hey Steph,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asked naïvely.

“The women, Lo?”

She put down the bowl of salad and turned to me.  “HH, we had a talk last time you were here.  You remember.”

I nodded my head.

“If he can’t be happy with me, then at least I can help him to be happy with someone else.”

“What do you mean not happy with you?”

“I see what’s going on.  I know that he has needs that I just can’t fulfill.  I see how he looks at Lo.  I’m not dumb.  I want him to be satisfied.”

“Sex is one thing,” I said, “but it’s not everything.”

“Right.”  I couldn’t tell if that was a sarcastic “right” or just apathetic.

“So, he can be happy with you.”

“Well, I want to make sure that he’s happy with me.”

“I’m sure he is,” I said to her, reassuringly.

Meanwhile, on the motorcycle, Lo was holding on to Mark around the waist and, as they rode, her hands slid lower, little-by-little.

They turned down a road that drove down to a secluded lake in the woods.  They hopped off the bike and took off their helmets.

“This is beautiful,” said Lo, looking out at the lake as the pink hues of dusk illumined the horizon.

Mark stood still, looking out over the equally placid lake.  All that could be heard was the gentle rustle of leaves in the trees as the evening breeze filtered through the woods.

“You want to swim?” asked Mark.

“That sounds so good!” replied Lo as she began to slip out of her blouse and short-shorts.

She was naked before Mark even undid a button.  “You weren’t kidding, were you?” asked Lo.

“Uh, um, no,” he said, “I was just watching you,” he said, a little startled, perhaps, at Lo’s eagerness and lack of panties.

“Well, come on then,” she said, helping him to undo his shirt buttons.

“How will we dry off?” he asked.

“On the bike,” she said.  “Come on, it will feel good.”

She removed his shirt and then he undid his belt and slid him out of his jeans.  He slowly took off his boxers to reveal to Lo the object of her fantasies.

“That’s it,” she said, biting her lower lip.

The two of them were naked and they went into the water.

“I just can’t get my hair wet,” said Lo as she led him in.  “Mmmmm, it feels so good.”

They were in – Lo up to her belly button, Mark only up to his thigh.

She turned toward Mark and gave him a long, wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Mark didn’t resist. . . until the end.  He then pushed her away.

“Lo,” he said.

“Fuck me,” she said.

“Lo,” he repeated.

“Fuck me, please.”

He was speechless.  He turned and walked out of the water.  Lo watched his sculpted back and buttocks as he did and then she followed him to the shore.

“Let me blow you,” she said, dropping to her knees.  “Smack my face with your cock,” she said as she grabbed the hefty appendage and proceeded to use it in the way she described.  It remained flaccid in her hands.

“Lo,” he said one more time, “I can’t do this.”

She looked up at him from below, her lips slightly open, ready, hungry, wanting to take it in her mouth.

“Lo,” said Mark, as his gentle hand encouraged Lo to stand up, “I love Stephanie.  I know she’d be happy for me to have you or one of the other women she invited over.”

Lo pouted at the mention of them.

“But I can’t.  I know I have flirted with you and led you on, but I just can’t.  It would be wrong.”

He didn’t have to say any more.  Lo knew that the game was over, though she stole lusty glances at his lengthy instrument.

They walked to the bike and Lo said, “Put the clothes over here.  We’ll air dry.”

They both got on the machine naked.  Mark started it up and they rode through the still evening air by the vacant lake.  Lo couldn’t help but reach around and grab at Mark’s cock on the bike.  He didn’t seem to mind.

After a quick drive, they returned to the clothes, got off the bike and got dressed in silence before Lo said, “Mark, I understand how you feel and I respect it, but it’s such a shame. . .” she trailed off.

Getting back on the bike and driving back to Mark’s birthday party, Lo held on to Mark, tightly, but above the crotch.

When they returned, we had dinner – a BBQ in the backyard.  At one point, Mark and I were alone.  Lo had informed me privately earlier about their exchange by the lake.  I said to Mark, “You’re a lucky man to have a woman like Stephanie.”

“And you’re lucky to have a woman like Lo.”

“Oh, I don’t have her.  She has me.  That’s for sure.”

“Well, then you’re lucky she has you,” he said.

“Yes, I am.”

“I bet she is amazing in bed,” he confided.

I took a sip of my G&T and said, “You have no idea.”

“I’d like to have an idea,” he said.

So I gave him a little birthday gift.  I told him, “When we fuck – and she likes to fuck often – she’ll lie on the bed and tell me how much she needs my cock.  I’ll slide in her wet and wide pussy.  She’ll slide her right hand into her puss until both her hand and my cock are snug in there.  And then, with her other hand free, she’ll look at your pictures.”

“No!” he said.

“I kid you not.”

“Really?!”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.  If I’m not mistaken, I think Lo got you an extra-special birthday gift.”

After the party was over and Lo and I were at home, I told Lo about my chat with Mark.

“I can’t believe you said those things about me!”

“Why not?  They’re true.”

“Because,” she said with attitude, “when you write, your words are so much more poetic.”

“Sorry, dear, I read better on the page than in person.”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” she said, “I’m always better in the flesh,” she said as she bent over to show me just how short her shorts are.

“Well, he’ll just have to settle for the two-dimensional Lo,” I said as I slapped her ass hard.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, waiting for more punishment.

“You’re not fooling anyone, dear.  I saw your wrapped present for him.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” she said, looking up at me from between her legs.

“Yeah, and it looked just like the latest Match, Cinder & Spark.”

She stood up and said, “Well, you’re wrong.”

“Really?  What was it then?”

“It wasn’t just the latest Match, Cinder & Spark, it was both volumes: IV and V.”

“Feeling generous, were you?”

“When I’m the gift, there’s no point to being stingy.”

“Then why didn’t you give him volumes I-III?”

“I want him to come back for more.  Now fuck me, Daddy.  I’m way overdue for a good pounding.  And if you are good, I’ll tell you the details about my ride with Mark.”

Confession of a Poet

Kimberley Diamond

Recently, two readers wrote in: Christine Stevens, of Medium and Kimberley Diamond, also of Medium. The first wanted a confession for her new publication, True Confessional. The second was just to say how much she enjoyed the new Audio Book.

For Christine, I wrote the following:

As anyone who has ever read mysexlifewithlola or one of our books from the Match, Cinder & Spark series knows, I, your faithful narrator through the sexual adventures of my muse, Lola Down, am bound by my love, under her close supervision, to refrain from any dalliances, dainties, or even desires with, of, or for other women.  She is allowed to fulfill all of her libidinous lusts, but I am strictly hemmed in to filling her and only her with my pent-up liquid longing.  Not a drop shall be spent but with her heavenly consent.

And I would have it no other way.  This arrangement pleases us both immensely.

However, I am here, dear reader, to confess to you that though it would seem inequitable that my lovely Lo is given free reign to spread her good cheer (and her legs) wherever her charitable caprice carries her while I chastely await her return, typing out reams and reams of erotica cataloguing her infidelity, the truth is that I take delight in contributing to as many, if not more, orgasms as she.  Yes, it is the case that in back alleys, in cars, in bedrooms, in campgrounds, and other nefarious locals, Lo is busy bringing pleasure to her amorous companions.  But I, dear reader, get the quiet satisfaction of knowing that my words, my loquacious soliloquies, my epic poem to my love brings gasps of climatic release to women around the globe!  My fingers do not literally touch the aching, wet, desirous labia of my readers, but they do stimulate a more erogenous organ – the mind – of countless women around the world.  For all I know, I could be bringing multiple women to multiple orgasms simultaneously at this very moment!  And I probably am.

I know this because many of you, bless you all, write in to Lola and me to tell us so.  Some of you include suggestive, flirtatious asides in your thankyou notes.  (Very much appreciated.)  And others of you include beautiful photos to accompany your kind words.  (Also appreciated, by us both.)

Warm Skin Getting off to Lo

Now, don’t get me wrong, I am well aware that it is not merely my writing that has this effect on people, but Lola’s personality as well as her photogenic exhibitionism.  And, as I am also well aware, a great many of her male readership takes extreme delight in posting “cumtributions” for Lo’s perusal, thus demonstrating that, whether in the flesh or in pixilated form, Lo is a Mistress of the Masturbatory Arts.

However, there is something about which she and I can both come together and agree upon: hearing from our fanbase of couples who have been brought closer through our artistic offerings.  Sometimes it is a couple that is separated by distance.  A scientist, for instance, based in the upper reaches of the arctic who shares with her boyfriend via email the stories and images that turn her on.  A wife at home raising her two kids while her husband is deployed abroad is able to send dispatches to him of Lo’s sexploits that she wishes permission to do while he’s away.  And the G.I. husband who shares with his wife (and his battalion) the cuckolding adventures of Lo, expressing his desire for a wife who would emulate Lo’s nympho tendencies.  Sometimes the couple live under the same roof.  The couple, for instance, who have been married for over a decade and find that the spark that has left their sex life has been rekindled by reading the salacious stories together before bedtime and pausing to discuss the aspects they enjoy and then, when the lights are out, they whisper in each other’s ear dirty imaginings inspired by the images of the page.

Sharing Couple of NJ Getting off to Lo

Whenever we hear from couples like these (and we have been lucky enough to meet some of you in person), it makes all of the “hard work” that went into creating this special niche of the pornographic panoply so worth it.  Thank you.

Lo, darling, if you can find it within you to forgive me for pleasing all these women, I ask your humble forgiveness.  I ask of all my readers, if you can find it within you to exonerate these trespasses, please sprinkle your holy water upon my confession and redeem this unrepentant poet.

Below is the email from Kimberley Diamond. She also sent in a few very, very sexy photos, but we will only reprint her profile pic from Medium here since we don’t have permission to show you the other stuff.

Hello Lola and H.H. from a wet and wild UK!

 

I’ve just finished listening to the audiobook of Match, Cinder and Spark and I loved it! 

 

I loved it because it’s more than just erotica. Both my pussy and intellectual curiosity were piqued. It’s also more interesting than a standard biography because there are some fucking hot scenes that left me blushing on planes, trains and automobiles! I will definitely leave you a 5-star review on Audible but I also wanted to write something more personal to you both.

 

In the book, you say that a lot of women have hang-ups about sex – well, I am one of them. I feel liberated in that I can and do have sex with people who tickle my fancy, but I am often held back by my own acceptance and enjoyment of my body and its physiological responses.

 

I was both intrigued and enlightened to hear how Lola takes so much pleasure in self-pleasure. You wrote that she can amuse herself with herself. How wonderful! I think Lola has so much vital erotic energy that she can make love to the world just by being.

 

I was also painfully jealous to hear about her being pan-orgasmic. Cumming from a pedicure, I mean literally what the fuck?! Never in my wildest dreams could I imagine being that turned on from something so ordinary. While I do experience orgasm, it is with some difficulty and the feeling itself is almost always lackluster. Don’t get me wrong there are many other sexual sensations (and mental stimulations) that give me a lot of pleasure, but they are disconnected from that muted orgasmic response.

 

If I took just one message from this book, it would be the ease in which Lola demands sexual pleasure for/from herself. She doesn’t let anything get in her way; not body image issues, not the lack of man, woman or dildo, not work, not relationship bullshit, nothing! She has an unwavering commitment to taking exactly the pleasure that she needs. The cool thing is that in taking, she gives to so many others. 

 

As a pleaser, I’ve always delighted in other people enjoying my body, but I’ve never truly enjoyed it myself – so that is something that my heart and pussy have both acknowledged and I will play with some more over the next few weeks.

 

Lola – I think you are a goddess incarnate and I kneel before you as a willing student, green with envy but desperate to learn of your magical powers. ….Haha, seriously though if you or H.H. write anything of a more instructional or “how-to” nature I would be thrilled to read and learn more.

 

H.H. – thank you for writing this wonderful story and for sharing your Lo with the world. 

 

With love and lust

 

Kimberely

 

Thanks to Purple’s Gem for the second photo down. It was on their “fans only” Twitter Page and you should check it out!

Lo, “in taking, she gives.”

PurpleSole Had a good time with the book.

Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories

Flawless

The Artist, Manu3l Beauty, Drawing Lo, as Drawn by Manu3l Beauty

 

In the first volume of Parerga und Paralipomena I read again that everything which can happen to a man, from the instant of his birth until his death, has been preordained by him.  Thus, every negligence is deliberate, every chance encounter an appointment, every humiliation a penitence, every failure a mysterious victory, every death a suicide.

 

Jorge Luis Borges

Labyrinths, from the story, “Deutsches Requiem” p. 143

Ever since I first read Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady, I knew what I wanted to write: the antithetical portrait.  I wanted to write a response to the ever upright, ever virtuous, ever socially acceptable Isabel Archer.  I was young when I read Portrait, still, it had a profound effect on me.  I found it a struggle to read each and every painstaking page.  The rectitude of the protagonist grated on me.  Her compliance to social norms caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.  Her pathetic powerlessness at the hands of the pervasive patriarchy outraged me.

By the time I had read Portrait, I had already loved and left my lusty slut to whom I had lost my virginity.  Her nymphomaniacal ways were beyond my limited abilities to assimilate into my concept of the world at that tender age.  But, as I read Portrait, I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I wanted to strip Isabel of her honor and her clothes.

The idea remained and germinated in my mind over many years.  When, at a more advanced age, I had read the collected works of the Marquis de Sade, I thought at first that I was too late.  Someone had written the great work I envisioned since reading Henry James.  However, the more I read of Sade, the more I realized that no, this is not the work I envisioned.  Sade is brilliant, imaginative, subversive, and powerful.  He was an important voice for his time and, despite many detractors, he actually offers a harsh critique of religious institutions, monarchy, marriage, and all the other permutations of patriarchy.  He spares none in his scathing evaluation of oppression in all its forms.  But his protest is essentially a resounding No!  That was important for his era, but what he lacks, probably because it was unimaginable at the time, was a heroine who could proclaim a resounding Yes!

All of Sade’s fictional female figures are victims.  They may also be villains, but they are so only because they were first victims.  Hurt people hurt people, as the saying goes.  They were formed by the social, political, religious, judicial, and educational systems, hierarchies, and prejudices of their culture.  What Sade was really up to is open to debate, but a charitable reading could be that he was shining a light on the gender injustices of his day and, even if his medium of doing so was “sadistic” (a term that was invented because of him), it also was sympathetic to the plight of women.

But I longed to write The Great American Novel that told a different story.  Not the story of Justine, not the story of Juliette, and certainly not the story of Isabel Archer!  I wanted to write the story of a sex-positive woman who claimed her own sexuality, her female form, her feminine facticity, her healthy desires, her sexual conquests, her orgasms, her self-pleasure, and her liberal lending of her labia as her own in a way that was not the result of victimhood and was not wielded as vindictiveness.  In other words, I wanted a sexual heroine, not an anti-heroine, despite how some retrograde segments of our modern society might still view such a character.

Perhaps that deep-seated vision of a new dawn was responsible for drawing me into Lo’s orbit and then, ultimately, for my “drawing” her in my writings as the woman of my dreams.  I cannot deny that Lo, when I met her, was not already without scars from the injustices of society, family, and past sexual partners.  But she was not a victim.  She was, even then, well on her way to inhabiting her own power.  She was healing.  Through obstacles, with love and support, encouragement and empathy, she (re)claimed her puss and her prowess.

Lo might not have escaped the perils of being born a woman, but she has transformed her trauma into a personal triumph.  I endeavor to portray Lo not as a perfect portrait of feminine form, but as a realistic rendition of a flawed, fallible figure; made all the more beautiful by her unique imperfections.

I love Lola not because she is flawless, but because of her wabi-sabi character.  I love her the way Woody Allen loved New York City of the ’70’s.  Back then, the city was far from perfect.  She had her many ugly sides.  But he was in love with her and wanted to tell her stories to the world, to get the world to see her the way he saw her.  To get the world to fall in love with her just as he had.

Writing about Lo is not only my love letter to her, but, as so many who have read about her have told us, her story is also a vehicle to help others become as daring, confident, and self-actualizing as Lo, because perfect people don’t perfect people, but healed people can heal people.