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Sexy Hotwife, Pornstar, MILF Sara Anne Reads Match, Cinder & Spark

Sara Anne
Who is this sexy reader, you ask.
This is Sara Anne – hotwife, amateur porn star, MILF, and avid reader of Match, Cinder & Spark.
Wait! Correction! Sara Anne has actually now made the transition to professional porn star!

Sara Anne
This cute country girl, mom of two, hotwife of 17 years, has turned her fun – fucking other men – into a side hustle and now is going pro! She just did her first professional porno shoot and is looking forward to doing more.
She’s also an avid reader, as you might be able to surmise from the library she has. (I know that you’re looking at the books in the photo below.)

Sara Anne Rides
She recently reached out to us and kindly requested a promo copy to add to her collection. We were happy to provide it!
Enjoy Sara Anne!








Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper
[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]
In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.
And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.
It was Sunday and it was hot! Hot and humid. There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets. Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before. Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting. I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.
All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.
Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.

Hot Lola on a hot night
I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.
Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.
“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”
“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.
“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”
“I need something to get me up.”
“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.

Would this get you up in the morning?
“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”
“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”
Suddenly we heard a knock.
“What was that?” I asked.
Lo shrugged her shoulders.
Another knock.
“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door. Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.
I opened the door a crack. A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.
“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom. I live across the way, over yonder.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.
“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard. I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great! We’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sure thing ma’am. Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”
I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.
“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”
“Yes. Why not, Daddy?”
“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”
She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.
“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”
After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house. There was a gate around the backyard.
“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.
“It’s the law,” I said. “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”
“Ah, I get it.”
We walked into the enclosed backyard. By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.
There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini. Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?
“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.
“Hi,” they almost grunted back.
“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked. “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”
One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.
“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked. They were in shorts and t-shirts.
“What?”
“Get naked,” she said plainly.
They did as she said. They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.
Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.
She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.
“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.
The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders. His cock was very close to Lo’s face.
During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool. No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”
When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.
“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”
“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.
“Jerk off! Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”
Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her. That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.
She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.
She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.
She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string. Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.
She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.
Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.
First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin. She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.
When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water. The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.
“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”
They all dove in right quick. They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.
“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool. “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.
“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.
“Suit yourself.”
“More than I can say your suiters have on!”
“Huh? Oh. Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.
After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink. They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo. Ain’t that a twist?
Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”
“Clothes? Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice. Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.
“You sure are.”
“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”
“You got that right,” said one of the guys. When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.
One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.
“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie. I’m good at goaltending.”
“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper. And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”
“No balls! Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”
“Call what – baseball bats?”
“Yeah!”
“Again, wrong sport.”
“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”
“Touché!” I called.
The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola. They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.
Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands. It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands. She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.
We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back. The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”
“Hey!” she called.
“What? You’re down.”
“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop? Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.
Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.
“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a penalty.”
“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.
Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.
“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.
“Gatekeeper? I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”
“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet. I’ve been gatekeeping.”
“You want praise for that? It’s COVID times. You know that.”
“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”
“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.
But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.
We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs. It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.
Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it. I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books. So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it? But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down. Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!

Anti-Lola
Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography. One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff. I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”

Pro-Lo
To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola. They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.
It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle. The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.
The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up! In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect. The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.

Lola on the News
“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window. “Oh shit!” she said.
“What?” asked one of the guys.
“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”
There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.
“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”
The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”
We filled him in. He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob. I was quite worried. All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.
“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.
Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club. It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.
He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.
“Sure,” she said.
“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day. I was just doing my job.”
“I understand.”
Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.
Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.
“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”
“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”
“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”
“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo. “Would you like to see?” She asked, looking over at the empty stage.
“My own personal show?”
“Yeah. Can you put on some music?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Got any Rihanna?”
“Anything you want.”
“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”
Hagrid put it on. As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me? What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.
“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.
“Thanks,” said Lo. “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”
“What happened?”
“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. We’d treat you right.”
“Oh yeah? How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.
Hagrid was unfazed. He works in a strip club.
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can’t get enough
Must be love on the brain.
The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat. Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.
“We treat the girls right. I can assure you of that.”
Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass. Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”
“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo. “My younger sister strips here.”
“What?! No way?”
“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.
“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.
“Why should she?” he asked, naively.
“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I see her naked and more at home.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”
“Really?”
“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”
“You both live with your parents?”
“No, we have an apartment together.”
“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”
“Yeah. Cheaper that way.”
“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”
“All the time. And women.”
“In her room?”
“In her room, with the door open. In the living room. In the kitchen. It doesn’t really matter to her.”
“I’ve got to meet this woman!”
“You already have.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”
“She’s your sister?!”
“Yep.”
Hagrid looked at his phone.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.
“How’s that?”
“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”
“What?! We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man. Double standard? You better believe it.
Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.
Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.
“You!” said the little sister.
“You!” said Lo right back at her. It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp. Who is who? Does it matter?
Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.

Luna Lovegood/Evanna Lynch
The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me. He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.
“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.
“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt. “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”

Evanna Lynch
“Whatever,” said Hagrid.

Evanna Lynch
The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment. It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room. The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly. The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch. The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it. There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.
On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.
“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.
“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna. “He’s a grown man.”
“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.
I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.
“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”
“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.
“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.
“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.
“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here. They know her. They know all about her. To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”
“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig. Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.
“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class. You’re from the city. You’re not from around here.”
“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom. “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”
“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”
“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”
“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.
I played dumb. Lo spread her legs. Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.
She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”
“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.
“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”
“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.
“You can have it,” continued Luna. “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.
“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.
“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.
Luna put out her hand. “A hundred.”
“What?!”
“It will cost you. One Benjamin.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”
“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.
“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”
“I don’t have a hundred.”
“What do you have?”
He pulled out his wallet. He opened it. He looked in. “A twenty.”
Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened. “It’s a deal.”
Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.
Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen. The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.
“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.
“Sure,” I said.
“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.
Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”
“Perfect,” said Lo.
As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations. The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.
“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.
“Pretty much every night she dances.”
“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”
Hagrid laughed a little. “You saw how little she weighs. She barely pulls that weight. All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka. “And drugs.”
“That’s too bad.”
Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early. It’s out of his control.
“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.
“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple. Lo here, she’s. . .”
“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.
“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.
“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.
“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake. The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.
“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat. “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.” It was hot in that shack. No AC.
“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.
Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.
Luna downed it in one gulp. “More,” she said. Was she talking to Lo or Tom?
Lo filled up the glass again.
“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.
She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.
“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo. Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.
“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.
“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.
Luna just gave him her middle finger.
“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder. It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.
“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her. “It’s still in you.”
“Forget the condom. Fuck my ass.”
“I don’t have another one.”
“FUCK. MY. ASS.”
The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.
“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.
“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”
“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”
“ATV or. . . ?”
“We’ll take my pickup truck.”
“Wait!” said Luna. “I want to go with you.”
The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.
“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.
“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.
“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.
“Because, I want to go.”
“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”
Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.
Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.
“Works every time,” said Luna.
“What does?” asked Lo.
“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”
Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth. I couldn’t help but think, “Wow! What a Lola move!”
When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.
Why were all of us in the back seat? Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.
Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap. Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.
“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.
“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.
“Fuck you!” said Luna.
Luna spread her legs. Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass. Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them. She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself. But then she pulled out her hand.
“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom. She tossed it out the window with a laugh.
We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.
“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.
“No problem. Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.
“Will do!”
“Thanks! Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.
“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits. “Stay slutty!”
“You know I will!”
Lo and I wasted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.
The End

Lola Down – Cover Girl
Smalltown Strumpet Part II – The Doctor Will See You Now
Smalltown Strumpet
Continued from: A Room with a View

Outdoor Strip Club
NO MASTURBATING
The sign was clear, yet ambiguous. Hung up in a strip joint, did it apply to the relatively rare female patron of the arts?
Lola was keen on testing the bounds of linguistic imprecision.
She unbuttoned her tight short-shorts and slid her hand down for a publicly displayed diddle.
No sooner had she done so than a bouncer came up to our table and said, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that. All patrons need to keep their clothes on.”
“My clothes are on,” she protested, batting her eyelashes at him, continuing to caress her cunt.

Lola’s short shorts before
“You know what I mean,” he said, unmoved by her flirtations.
She removed her hand from between her legs, licked her fingers and buttoned up.
“The nerve,” she said to me once he left.
She got up and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’ll be back. Keep it in your pants until then, ok?”
About five minutes later she returned. She sat down next to me where she was, but this time she turned the little chair around and sat on it backwards, spreading her legs to make room for the back rest.
“What’s up?” I asked, confused.
“Well, your cock would be if you could see me from the front,” she replied.
I was curious. I got up and, carrying a single in my hand, walked to the stage, gently tucked it in the dancer’s thong, turned around, and looked at my love sitting with her legs spread on the backward chair.
Ahhhaaa! I see now. When she went to the restroom, she apparently took with her some knife or something and cut her short-shorts through the crotch revealing her lack of panties. (Or did she take off her panties in the bathroom?)
She was proudly displaying her very widely spread pussy lips covertly through the split seam of her short-shorts. The only ones who could see were the strippers on the stage.
Smart. Smart and sexy. My woman has a head for hedonistic hijinks.
She had to refrain from stroking herself lest she alert the bouncer to her little pussy ploy.
The dancers all danced for her, as if greatly amused by the novelty of an amateur exhibitionist putting on a show for them.
I, for my part, was rather nervous about the whole scenario. It seemed to be inviting trouble.
The dancer’s name wasn’t Trouble, but she accepted the invite. She walked off the makeshift stage, strutted up to Lo’s spread legs, got on her knees and pantomimed cunnilingus. The other men in the audience wanted to get a better view. They sauntered around to look between Lo’s legs and well, soon Mr. Bouncer was back.
Lo closed her legs (a rare act for her) as he gestured that we were to leave.
Lo didn’t make a scene (also rare), but gathered up her dignity (what little was left) and strutted out to the cat-calls and whistles of her supporters.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” I said as we left, quoting from Laurel and Hardy – a film reference from before Lo’s time.
“What? Me?!!!” she said with anger.
“I’m just kidding. But you sure do know how to get ejected quick.”
“Meh,” she said, “I’ve been thrown out of better strip clubs than this.”
“That you have.”
“What now, Daddio?” she asked, grabbing my arm as we walked down the street.
“Now we hope we don’t get arrested.”
“I have a better idea,” she said, pulling me down a dirt road that intersected with street where we were walking.
“Lo,” I said, “I have a feeling your idea is not better.”
She ignored me and pulled me further, before bending over to expose the wide gap in her shorts that revealed the wide gap that is her pussy.
“What good are these shorts if we’re not going to use them for a quick doggin’ session?” she asked over her shoulder. “Bang me!”

Lola’s short shorts after
I looked left and right and saw no one. I will admit, I was feeling pent up power needing penetration after the show at the strip club. I hastily pulled out my cock and entered Lo from behind. She let out a long, loud moan.
“Lo, if you want me to keep this going then you need to put on your silencer.”
I rapidly ransacked her raw desire as she gushed girly juice all over my rod. She was overflowing, soaking what little remained of the crotch of her pants.
Lo knows when I’m about to blow and, anticipating my climax, she lunged forward and spun around, landing on her knees, taking my cock in her mouth to catch every precious drop of fluid.
Swallowing her fill, she dabbed the edges of her mouth where a bit had dripped and she sat on the ground to stroke herself silly as I watched and put away my spent serpent.
Finger-fucking herself, she eventually squirted, sprinkling the earth with her holy water.
Mission completed, she got up, dusted herself off, and we continued on our way back to the street and then the center of town.
At one point she walked in front of me and, over her shoulder asked, “Can you see the hole in my shorts, Daddio?”
“Nope, not at all,” I said.
“Too bad.”
We got back to the car and, as I was driving us home, she spread her legs and was touching herself.
“Lo, come on. Didn’t you have enough?”
“It itches, Daddy.”
“Well, wait until we get home. We’ve had one-too-many close calls today.”
“No, I mean it really itches.”
She wasn’t stroking, she was scratching.
She spread her legs wider and looked between them. “It’s irritated.”
I drove faster. “I’ll get you home and you can take a shower. Maybe that will help.”
In my haste to get her home, I got pulled over by a cop. Out here the cops just lie in wait for out-of-state license plates and pluck them off like fish in a barrel.
“What the fuck?” said Lo as I slowed down, edging to the side of the road.
“Cop,” I said, furious that I was going to get a speeding ticket.
“I’m really in some serious discomfort here,” said Lo.
“What do you want me to do, have a high-speed chase through the dirt road Dukes of Hazzard style?”
Cops know that if you’re speeding, you’re in a rush and so they purposely take their time getting out of the car, walking up to the driver’s side window, and talking. This guy was no different. All the while Lo was clamping her thighs together, trying to itch herself surreptitiously.
“Hello officer,” I said when he finally greeted me.
“License and registration,” was all he said as he looked us over, apparently liking what he saw in the passenger seat.
I reached in front of Lo to the glove compartment to grab the papers.
“Hi officer,” said Lo, flirtatiously, but clearly agitated.
“Ma’am,” was all he said.
He took the papers and just as slowly as he had walked to the car, he walked back to his cruiser.
Lo spread her legs and began rubbing, slapping, and smacking her pussy to make the itching go away. She was getting distressed rapidly.
“I can’t take this! I don’t know what’s happening! Look!” she said, swiveling in her seat toward me and spreading her legs. Her entire pussy was swollen with red irritation. So were her knees. “I must have sat in poison ivy!!!”
I was very concerned. Where was that cop?
“We have to go to the hospital, not home,” said Lo, pleading and commanding simultaneously.
Finally the cop came back and gave me a $75.00 ticket.
I took it from him and asked, “Can you tell me the fastest way to get to a hospital?”
“What?”
“We need to go to the hospital right away.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Lo,” I said, “Do you want to show the officer?”
Lo turned toward me again and spread her legs showing her poisoned pussy.
There was a lot of information for the cop to take in at once: the ripped shorts, Lola flashing him, the inflamed pussy. But he took it in stride and simply said, “Follow me.” (I wondered if he was wearing a bodycam that would broadcast to headquarters Lo’s exposing herself.)
He was no longer sauntering. He got in his patrol car quickly and drove so fast that I was hardly able to keep up.
In about fifteen minutes we were at the emergency entrance to the little local hospital. Lo jumped out of the car as I thanked the officer.
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“We were out on a hike and, I guess she fell into some poison ivy.”
“Naked?”
“No, she was wearing shorts.”
He looked puzzled.
“Hey,” he said. “You can forget about that speeding ticket. I’ll revoke it when I get back to the station.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely surprised. “Thanks a lot. For everything!”
I parked the car and went into the emergency room waiting area. I found Lo sitting and squirming in her seat.
“You checked in?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the wait time?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
She was going out of her mind and my questions weren’t helping.
Finally a nurse escorted us to a little examination room that was cordoned off from the others by a thin blue curtain hanging from a bar that made three sides of a rectangle around us.
“Please remove your clothes and get into this,” said the nurse, handing Lo a blue hospital gown.
Lo couldn’t take off her clothes fast enough. Down went the shorts, up went the shirt. She spread her legs and began smacking her pussy.
“I don’t know what else to do,” she said in frustration. “Get me a wet towel. Cold water.”
“That might make it worse,” I cautioned.
“Shut up and do it!”
There was no debate. I followed her instructions and gave her the wet paper towel. She placed it over her pussy.
“Does that help?” I asked.
“A little. Where is that doctor?”
We waited for what felt like an interminably long time before the doctor finally arrived to examine Lo.
“Is it ok if I’m here?” I asked, not wanting to overstep my bounds.
“Are you her father?” he asked, stupidly.
“He’s my lover,” said Lo.
I was tempted to add, “And father,” but I refrained. No time for jokes.
“If it’s ok with the patient, then you can stay,” he said, embarrassed. “So, what brings you here today?” he asked.
Lo hiked up her flimsy hospital gown and spread her legs. The doctor looked. “Not usually this swollen, I take it?” he asked.
“No!” said Lo, insulted.
The doctor put on rubber gloves. I noticed he wore a wedding band. “May I?” he asked, moving in to touch Lo down there.
I have to admit, I was hard. Very hard.
He used his thumb to spread her pussy lips and look very, very carefully.
Lo tried to assist him by offering her professional opinion. “I think it’s poison ivy.”
“Hmmmm,” said the doctor. “Is it anywhere else?”
“A little on my knees,” said Lo.
The doctor looked at Lo’s knees.
“Do you mind removing the gown?” he asked. “I’d like to see if it is anywhere else.”
Lo complied. Standing naked in front of the doctor he looked her over. It seemed he was examining her more as a man than a man of medicine.
He had her turn around and bend over. He looked carefully between her ass cheeks. It was rather degrading to Lo. Infantilizing.
She turned back around to face the doctor and sat down, naked still.
“Were you in the woods?” he asked.
I was curious as to how Lo would answer this one.
“We went for a walk through the woods, yes,” she said. “At one point we sat down on the grass.”
“Do you have any rash?” asked the doctor of me.
“No, none.”
“Just you?” he asked of Lo, rhetorically. “And only, er, there and on your knees? That is odd.”
Lo was losing her patience. Not a patient patient, you might say.
“Yeah, well, how I got it isn’t important. How are we going to treat it? It’s painful.”
“Painful?”
“Yes.”
“Itchy?”
“A little.”
“How long ago were you, uh, sitting in the grass?”
“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so ago.”
“Well, it’s not poison ivy. That would take about a day to appear. My guess is poison nettles.”
“Is that bad?” asked Lo as if being given a terminal diagnosis. “I never heard of poison nettles.”
“Very common around these parts. Never saw a case like this though,” he said, looking at Lo’s pussy.
“What can you do about it?”
“Well, normally I’d say soap and water and let it run its course.”
“I can’t even walk!” shrieked Lo in horror. “There has to be something.”
“An oral steroid will work pretty fast. But just to make sure it works, do you mind if I take a photo as a before comparison?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.
“Go ahead,” said Lo, spreading her legs and using both hands to pull her pussy lips wide apart.
“And one from behind, to make sure it doesn’t spread to the anus,” he said, trying to sound clinical.
Lo got up, turned around, bent over, and spread her butt cheeks for him to snap a few photos.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving us alone.
“That was weird, right?” I asked Lo.
“Yes,” agreed Lo, back to scratching and slapping her pussy, now that the doctor was gone.
“He used his own phone to take a photo. And one from behind.”
“Whatever,” she said, dismissively. “I’ll give him the blog address if he’s that into me. Whatever it takes to have this go away!”
“I bet he’s jackin’ off to your photos in his office right now,” I said.
“I don’t really care,” she said, putting her hospital gown on.
We waited. Lo grew more distressed at her discomfort. She spread her legs and began slapping her pussy. She was hoping the pain would replace the itch. As she was busy between her legs a nurse walked in. She was taken by surprise when she saw me sitting next to Lo and Lo going to town on her twat. Lo looked up at the startled woman with an angry countenance and said, “Poison nettles,” and continued slapping the puffy petals.
The nurse disappeared as quickly as she had entered. Apparently she had forgotten whatever it was she had to do there.
A few moments later a different doctor walked in. He introduced himself as a specialist from dermatology. He said the previous doctor wanted him to render a second opinion on the rash. “Do you mind if I see it?” he asked, clearly aware of what part of Lo’s body was affected.
Lo spread her legs yet again.
The doctor made all sorts of thoughtful, considered grunts and moans. “Hmmmm, ah. Yes. Hmmm. I see. Anything on the back or chest? If there is a rash on the chest it could indicate a severe allergy. May I check?”
Lo removed her gown again and brought her breasts within kissing range of the doctor’s face. He looked them over carefully. “Well, that is good,” he finally said, “appears to be confined to the. . . uh. . . lower parts.”
“May I put on my gown or did you want to check my ass?” asked Lo. “The other doctor checked my ass. Wanted to make sure it hadn’t spread to my anus.”
“Does your anus itch?” asked the doctor.
“No, not really.”
“Well, if you want me to check it out, I will.”
Lo turned around and bent over.
“May I?” asked the doctor before grabbing her ass cheeks.
“Go right ahead.”
He spread her ass cheeks wide and, as she was bent over, he asked, “It itches here?” He touched her vulva with his fingers. Notably, he wasn’t wearing gloves, but he too was wearing a wedding band.
“Yes. It stings a bit there.”
“And here?” he asked as he slid his fingers to the back of her pussy.
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder.
“But nothing here,” he said, running his fingertips gently around Lo’s anus.
“No.”
“That’s good,” he said, letting go of her ass. “You may turn around.”
“Do you also want a photo?” asked Lo.
“What? Uh, no. That is not necessary.”
“Because the other doctor has a few?”
“Yes, yes.”
“He showed you?”
“No, he didn’t,” said the doctor, blushing.
“Will a third doctor need to see me? Maybe all the male doctors of the hospital would like to render an opinion?”
At this point I couldn’t tell if Lo was sarcastically calling out the doctor’s unprofessional voyeurism or if she was letting her fantastically erotic imagination run wild.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the doctor. “I’ll just go consult with my colleague and we’ll get you a prescription.”
“This town is full of sexually frustrated men,” said Lo to me when we were alone again. “And I have to pee,” she added.
“There has to be a bathroom close by.”
“B-R-B,” she said, getting up and leaving our little semi-private area, walking down the hall with her butt crack exposed by the hospital gown.
When she returned, I asked her, “Did you really have to pee or did you just want to put on a little show?”
“A little from column A and a little from column B.”
She laid down on her side, her rear exposed by the skimpy hospital gown in the back.
Another nurse popped in and saw Lo’s rear. She looked at me. “The doctor will be right here,” she said. She looked at Lo and asked me, “Is she ok?”
“Yes,” I said, “just recovering from overexposure.”
The nurse looked puzzled and disappeared.
Lo sat up and said, “More people have seen my ass here than in our books.”
“That’s not true,” I said, my pride bruised by the comment. “I know, on good authority, that your ass has been seen by thousands.”
“Give it some time,” replied Lo.
Now both doctors returned to our room.
“Amazing attention you’re getting, Lo,” I said. “Does your staff treat everyone this way or is this a particularly extraordinary case of poison pussy?” I asked the doctors. They chuckled.
“Here is the prescription said the first doctor,” handing me the note.
“And here is an ointment that should cool down and numb the stinging and itching pretty quickly,” he said, passing it to Lola.
“Can I apply it right now?” she asked, eagerly taking the small tube from him.
“Yes.”
Before either of the doctors could leave, Lo removed the cap and looked up at them. “How much should I use?”
“About enough to cover the tip of your finger should do it,” said the doctor.
Lo squeezed out the white cream that looked like toothpaste and applied it to her fingertip. She then spread her legs and smeared it all around the labia.
“Is it for external use only? Cause it itches inside a bit too.”
“Do you mind,” said the doctor, “if I show you how you can apply it to the sensitive region?”
“Not at all.”
The doctor then put a dab on his fingertip and rubbed the ointment up and down Lo’s pussy lips, careful not to penetrate. “I’d recommend not going any deeper than that,” he said.
Lo was moaning, “MMMMmmmmm, that feels good. Tingly. Can you apply some to my anus, doctor? It’s beginning to itch too.”
Lo lifted her legs higher, exposing her behind to both doctors. The doctor ran his finger around her sphincter. “How’s that?”
“Much better,” moaned Lo seductively. “So, nothing internal?”
“No, not with this. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“If it itches internally?” asked Lo.
“Well, KY jelly or lube is fine. It may help cool it down.”
“You’ll take care of me?” Lo asked, looking at me. I could almost hear her say, “Daddy.”
“Yes, Lo. I’ll try to be as attentive as these good doctors.”
She smiled. She spread her legs again and asked, “Did you get all the affected areas?”
The doctor applied a tad bit more of the cream to his fingertip and began to apply it to her clit. Big mistake.
I saw her look up at me. She bit her lower lip. I saw her hands tense up and her nails dig into the backs of her legs.
Suddenly, Lo squirted a laser-like shot directly onto her tits. It was a strange shot since she was contorted with her legs being held by her arms and her anus exposed.
“Wow!” remarked the doctor who was standing up, breaking with his professional demeanor.
“Whoops!” squealed Lo, playfully, “I sometimes do that.”
She let her legs down and as she did so, another squirt shot out and got the doctor in front of her, right on his chest.
“I can’t control it. Honestly!” she said defensively.
“It’s ok,” said the good doctor, calmly, yet taking a couple of steps back.
“I’ve just been rubbing it all day and so now it’s. . .”
She squirted a third time on the white tile floor, making a puddle. This time she didn’t try to stop. It was a lot. Her head went back and she said, “Fuuuuuuck!” Since we weren’t cut off from the rest of the emergency room by real walls, I’m sure those in the immediate vicinity could hear her.
“Well,” said one of the doctor as he wiped down his tie, “if that will be all, we’ll get going.”
“Thank you. Thank you both,” said Lo, a smile on her face clearly apparent even under her mask, her legs pressed together over the mess she had made. She batted her eyelashes at the two doctors flirtatiously. I passed her a few tissues to wipe down her chest.
The doctors lingered to watch her do this. She dried herself off and then reached in her bag and pulled out a magazine.
“I can tell that you both are two very ethical men of science,” began Lo. I was wondering where she was going with this. “Perhaps you’d be interested in reading this magazine I happen to have found in the waiting room of the hospital? There’s a fascinating article in it on nymphomania. Actually, I have more than just a casual interest in this subject and I’d be very interested to get your professional opinions on it and the claims made in the article.” She passed one of the doctors a copy of Ethical Non-Monogamy. An article I had written about Lola was featured with a spread of her. It was called, “A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition.” Lo found a pen next to her on the small table and carefully wrote her email address, downloladown@gmail.com, on the back cover of the magazine.

ENM Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine Lola Spread
The doctors left, magazine in hand like a consolation prize.
“Lo,” I said disapprovingly. “You are bad.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that it’s all beyond her control – the exhibitionism, the squirting, the flirting, the manipulation.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, “before they call the cops on you.”
“I didn’t do anything illegal. Why would they call the cops?”
“Carrying a concealed weapon.”
“I’m naked, what could I possibly carry that’s concealed?”
“Your dirty mind!”
“Well, you would get me off, wouldn’t you Daddy?”
“I think it would take me and the rest of the town to get you off completely.”
“Well, let’s get home and you can examine the body of evidence.”
It was getting dark as we drove to John’s home where she had me wait on her hand-and-foot through her convalescence.
[To be continued. . . ]
Protected: Family Fan Mail
Immoral Support

Lo Bursting her Blouse
[Continued from Brass in Pocket]
“You can’t use lube, moisturizer, not even spit or pussy juice,” warned Cam. “The fitness of the sperm depends upon it.”
“I understand,” said Lo, clinically neutral in tone.
Ted had seen Lo’s photo and was intrigued. He consented to have her help in the donation room.
“I might just observe the first time,” said Lo.
We had been invited to Cam and Gina’s house for dinner in order to meet Ted. It was awkward at first. But Lo’s seductive stares boosted Ted’s ego, I’m sure. I don’t think Lo was as attracted to him, per se, as she was attracted to the idea of being a facilitator for a man to ejaculate. The set-up captivated her more than the stud.
Lo got the call from Cam one afternoon. “It’s time.”
Off she went to their house the next day. I stayed home. I was superfluous to the process. This was two people trying to conceive, after all, not a spectator sport.
Lo and Ted went into the spare bedroom as Cam and Gina were in the master bedroom. Lo had worn a button-down white shirt with a collar. It seemed two sizes too small for her. Under it she wore a lacey red bra. She had on a short leather miniskirt with a red lace thong under it. On her feet were red heels. Her toenails and fingernails were fire engine red, as were her lips. She was the picture of crimson seduction.
She sat in a corner chair in the bedroom. Ted stood over the bed.
“I usually look at some porn on my phone,” he said to Lo.
“Go right ahead,” replied Lo.
“I don’t really need to today,” he said shyly. “I mean, if you don’t mind me looking at you.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess. You look great,” he said.
“Pull out your cock,” Lo said, not mincing words.
Ted unzipped and reached into his boxers to pull out his long, hefty meat.
“Take off your pants. You have to aim that thing and those will just be in the way,” said Lo, indicating the plastic cup on the bed that had a diameter of about three inches. “Come on, don’t be shy. This is for Cam and Gina.”
He pulled out his cock. It was limp.
“Mmmmm,” moaned Lo, encouragingly. She licked her tongue over her pearly white teeth.
“Do you like cock?”
“You have no idea,” she said. “Do you like tits?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you like mine?” she asked, boosting her tits with her arms so they burst out of her small bra and blouse.
“They’re hot.”
“Jack it.”
Ted began to stroke his cock.
“What turns you on?” asked Lo.
“Um, I, uh, I don’t know,” he said, his cock getting soft again in his hand.
“Tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I like dirty talk.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“I like women to say nasty things.”
Lo leaned over in her chair. She rested her head on her hands and her elbows rested on the bed. Her mouth was mere inches away from his cock. She looked up at him.
“Cum for me. Stroke your long, thick cock and cum for me.”
Ted began stroking. He inched forward toward Lo’s face.
“That’s it. Pretend I’m a little whore who wants to swallow your hot jiz.”
She put her tongue out and she could tell he was about to cum. She held up the receptacle to the tip of his penis and. . .
“Holy shit!” said Lo, her face covered in Ted’s torrent. “You totally missed!”
“What are we going to do now?” he asked, scared.
Lo used her fingers and swiped as much of the sticky pearlescent goo into the container as she could.
“We can’t do that,” protested Ted.
“Shut up and get me a towel.”
Ted complied.
Handing her the towel, he apologized obsequiously. “I’m so so sorry. I don’t know how that happened. I guess I was excited. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok,” laughed Lo. “I liked it. Now just play it cool.”
“But,” Ted began to protest.
“It’s ok. Just give them the collection jar. I don’t wear makeup. Only on my eyes and luckily you missed my eyes.”

Lo’s Lips
Brass in Pocket
Continued from ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor

Lola uses her arms
“What do you think you’re going to do with this Ted?” I asked Lo as we drove home from Cam and Gina’s.
“I like to imagine what he’s going to do with me,” she responded, looking out the window into the middle distance as the storefronts and pedestrians streamed by on the illuminated street.
“What does that mean? You heard them, he’s involved with a guy.”
“Meh,” she sounded, dismissively.
“Meh? What if you get in the room with him and he can’t get it up?”
“He won’t agree to it if he thought that would happen.”
“What if he doesn’t agree to it?”
“You miss every pitch you don’t swing at.”
“Clever, but in this instance, he’s holding the bat.”
“I sure hope he is!”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I’ve been called worse. . . and I like it.”
“This is Cam and Gina’s attempt at getting pregnant, not your opportunity to turn a trick.”
“When a door closes, a window opens.”
“Will you stop with the platitudes. They’re not even appropriate.”
“Are you jealous, Daddy?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she might be turning me on with her antics.
“No, I’m confused.”
“There’s nothing to be confused about, Daddy. It’s all very straightforward.”
“Explain.”
“I love to see men jacking off. You know that. You don’t do it for me nearly enough.”
“I hardly have the opportunity; you’re on me before I can even stroke it.”
“Nevertheless. Here is a perfect chance to see a man do it, live, in person. Not just photos.”
“But it’s a complicated situation.”
We arrived home. When we were in the bedroom, we continued the conversation.
“I am troubled by your enthusiasm for this ‘helping hand’ business.”
“It’s not a business. . . yet, but who knows. Maybe I could become a fertility assistant – like a midwife, but instead of aiding in the birth of a baby, I aid in the ejaculatory process.”
“Lo, be serious for a moment.”
“I was,” she said, deadpan.
“Sometimes I think you believe yourself to be God’s gift to men.”
“And on the eighth day, God said, ‘Let there be Lola.’ Eve can be a helpmate. I’ll be the playmate.”
“After a day of rest, God had a wet dream and Lo and behold!”
“Lo and behold. I like that. I’m Lo, you’re Behold.”
I took out my cock and grabbed it for her.
“To have and to hold, ʼtil death do you part,” she said.
“So, if I were Ted, what would you do?”
“The possibilities are endless. Should I give him my ass, Daddy?”
“You can’t, remember? The specimen has to be immaculate.”
“I’m insulted!!! Are you saying my ass isn’t immaculate?”
“No, I was just saying. . .”
“Immaculate conception, right. I’m just teasing you. Should I lick him?”
“Off limits.”
“Jerk him off?”
“No lubricants allowed.”
“I could use my feet.”
“That’s ok.”
She broke into song:
Gonna use my arms,
Gonna use my legs,
Gonna use my style,
Gonna use my sidestep,
Gonna use my fingers,
Gonna use my, my, my imagination.
With each lyric, she pantomimed the part. She used her arms to boost up her breasts; she got on her back to spread her legs; she licked her lips slowly, seductively, she put her fingers down her panties, and then, she squirted just as I came.
“I see I got your attention.”
“Yes, you did. Now, if you can just get Ted to do that.”
“Oh, I will, don’t you worry.”

Lola uses her legs
Interview With a Sex Addict
Interview with a Sex Addict

AL gets a new monitor to look at Lo in hi-def while working from home, his wife in the next room
This week, we bring out our resident admitted and diagnosed sex addict, AL, who goes by “Al.” He graciously agreed to answer a few questions about sex addiction, for educational purposes. Lo enthusiastically put on her correspondent’s had (and nothing else) and went to work interviewing him and then, took off the newsgirl hat and teased him, as she does.
- How do you define “sex addict”?
Without Googling, I define a sex addict as someone who compulsively engages in sexual behaviors, despite any negative effects created by said behaviors. They’ve shaped/changed their arousal palette, neural pathways, and reward center to release that sweet, sweet dopamine when engaging in their desired sexual behaviors, even if those behaviors result in negative consequences affecting self, family/friends, job, etc.
- Do you consider yourself a sex addict?
Yes, and if not a sex addict—then definitely addicted to lusting after HH/Lo’s pictures and words! Some days I’ll wake up with Lo on my mind and even though I could just stroke right there and cum—I’d much rather click through her pictures and read their words, first.
- Tell me more. How did you come to the conclusion that you are a sex addict?
Obviously, I was living life under the self-delusion that I just had high sex drive and a wandering eye. But after multiple therapists—which were a waste of time in the beginning since I never was actually honest about the extent of my situation—I had one in particular suggest that maybe I have a sex addiction. She also stated that it wasn’t her expertise, so she couldn’t help me in the way I needed. After some reading and podcasts, I reached out to a CSAT (Certified Sex Addiction Therapist) and decided to “come clean,” which coincided with my “rock bottom.” It was through her that I was diagnosed as having a sex addiction.
- Tell me what “rock bottom” meant for you since we all have different bottoms (no pun intended).
What I mean by rock bottom…long story, short: I racked up multiple thousands of dollars on credit cards in my name (via webcam girls, buying girls things, etc.); I was constantly checking sites like PornHub, Xvideos, eFukt, mysexlifewithlola.com; stopping by strip clubs for lap dances; even seeking out guys with whom to share naked photos/videos of my wife; seeking escorts for random encounters; cheating on my (then) fiancée with girls that she hated.
- You’re married to a beautiful, sexy woman. How’s that relationship?
Yes, she is very beautiful and sexy. We’ve been married five years, and together for over ten. We’ve definitely experienced our share of ups and downs. It’s the downs that seem to linger, but that is part of the work. She picked up on some red flags but continued on (as did I). Historically, she hasn’t had a ‘high’ (or medium for that matter) sex drive, and mistakenly, I used to ascribe a lot of the blame on her for my acting out. That was wrong of me. Part of the process involved a ‘disclosure’ of all events/actions that I had hidden away—that was difficult, borderline catastrophic. I ended up making it worse by not being completely honest during my first disclosure, meaning I didn’t come clean to all the details until a second disclosure months later.
Ironically, we’re closer and more strategic (in a non-sexual way) with our relationship now that I’m in recovery. She also sees a therapist who is familiar with partner betrayal (which is very important, or else sometimes the partner receives an unfair share of shame and blame). She doesn’t fully understand (can anyone, really?) but she’s working hard, as am I (sometimes). We do not have sex often, as I’m sure one might wonder…in fact, I’m lucky if it’s once a week and not a quickie. I can see that a day doesn’t go by where it doesn’t hurt her, but life is complicated, and the goal is to be in a better spot than we were.
[Trigger Warning – non-consent]
- Did you have any formative sexual experiences in early life?
Yes. At age 3 or 4, my next-door neighbor—who was around 5- or 6-year-old—introduced me to kissing and touching. She would take me in to the closet and show me first-hand what she must have been introduced to by whomever was (sadly) showing her. Additionally, when I was six, I had a handful of experiences involving my cousin (same age) and her friend, “trying to be like adults.”
I would also add that access to pornography at a young age was formative in itself. The internet really changed things, as well. I grew up in an unstable household; I sought pleasure and seclusion. Given those needs and that environment, it’s no wonder to me that I latched on to the pleasures of ‘sex’ to escape.
- Best sexual experience?
This is a tricky one…my best sexual experience would most likely be with one of my exes— she was amazing in bed…always wanted to fuck, loved to swallow, and LOVED doing it in public places. I think we were at some random party and their bathroom suited us just fine!
- Worst sexual experience?
Is that possible? JK. One of the worst experiences would be one of my first escort experiences. The situation was shady AF, which only prevented me from getting (and remaining) hard. I hadn’t experienced that before, and it was awkward. I remember desperately trying to squeeze my flaccid condom-covered cock inside of her. She understood, but I ended up having to settle for a hand job.
- Who knows of your addiction, if anyone?
As it stands right now, five people are aware of my addiction: my counselor, my wife, my wife’s best friend, one of my closest friends from high school, and oddly enough, one of my professors from my first year back at school. I’ve debated sharing with my brother (I think he has some similar issues) and my 14-year-old son.
- How long have you been in treatment for sex addiction? And do you feel it has worked?
I’ve been in treatment for 3+ years now with a CSAT. It definitely helped me become more aware. I’m sure there are workbooks, strict plans, etc. Before disclosure, we simply identified the really ‘bad’ behaviors (escorts, strip clubs, webcam girls) and put in mitigation efforts (GPS tracking on phone, website filters on phone and laptop). That’s actually the easy part. The hard part is the act of disclosure (if you’re honest enough), and all of the ‘work’ when no one is looking—that’s where the real gains can be made (or lost).
- What would you say to people reading this who are asking themselves: Am I a sex addict or do I just have a healthy sexual appetite?
I would say: enjoy sex. I personally see it as a life enhancer (similar to good food or music); however, if things start getting bad and you’re hiding a lot from people, that can spiral and add so much (unnecessary) stress. Long story short, if there are bad things happening because of one’s sexual appetite, then one should at least look at their impact and see if any adjustments should be made. Life is much more fun being authentic!
- Have you ever met a female sex addict? If so, describe what that interaction was like?
I’ve only read about and been told about them, never meeting one in person. I know they’re out there, but the stereotypical addict seems to fall on males and the partner role is assumed to be female.
- Why do you think sex addiction has become such a popular topic lately?
I think it’s because sex sells and some people look at it as a crutch or excuse to do what they do. (Which is fine, unless you’re causing unnecessary damage as a result of it.)
- Have you read any literature out there about sex addicts or sex addiction? If so, what do you recommend?
Facing the Shadow, Patrick Carnes
“Sex Help with Carol the Coach” (podcast)
“Behind Closed Doors” with Dr. Kate Balestrieri (podcast)
- Would you prefer if you were not a sex addict? Why or why not?
I like being who I am, and I like what I’m into. What I’d prefer is being upfront with significant others, and saying: “Hey, this is me…like it or leave it.” I think I grew up in shitty situations, so I’d use sex, love, flirting, etc. as my drug. Throw in the internet, and being someone who is good at lying, and that’s a potent combination.
- Biggest trouble that sex addiction got you into?
This list is ongoing, but you’re only in trouble if you get caught! (JK) Gigantic credit card bills…I’m a sucker for spoiling a slut or camgirl, lol. Racking those up was the primary driver in hitting my bottom.
- You seem to be successful at your job and still married and a parent. Is there such a thing as a “high functioning” sex addict like there is for a “high functioning alcoholic”? Describe.
Actually, I do think there is such a thing. I was so intrigued by this question, that I even asked it of my counselor—she agreed. Part of being a high functioning sex addict would require being able to compartmentalize almost anything and any time. In doing so, you’re able to build a rationale on the matter. I also know the things I cannot do—although I want to: the strip clubs, seeing escorts, flirting with a slut. And so I am able to navigate the decisions I make, and the steps I take to cover up those decisions if they are of the variety that would ‘give me away.’
- Pros and cons of being a sex addict?
Pros: Good ol’ fashioned dopamine at a relatively inexpensive cost (not including the externalities); typically, a more open, and inclusive mind… Cons: Can be relationship killer, money-drainer, and/or source of depression if not approached correctly (is there a correct way? Asking for a friend, lol).
- Top five fantasy fucks?
#1 – You!
#2 – An all-night bang session with my wife and her best friend.
#3 – Be part of a gangbang…with some amateur local wife.
#4 – DVP (Double Vaginal Penetration, or two penises in the vagina) with my wife.
#5 – You!
- Sexual experience you haven’t had yet but would like to try?
I’ve always wanted to try a threesome, both MMF and MFF. Also, I’ve ALWAYS wanted to share my wife…I can think of multiple scenarios involving her…me watching, not watching, listening, being shown, etc.
- Bonus question: From what you know of me, do you think I’m a sex addict?
From what I’ve gathered, and if analyzed with the actual truths, I do. But do I think there are huge negative consequences affecting you? Probably not, given our society.
After our interview was over, Lo was naughty and engaged in the following interaction:
Lola: I wonder how your jacking off to me plays into your current recovery and relationship with your wife. For instance, what happens when I send you a photo like this?

Lola Teasing
AL: Besides the mini dopamine rush and flinch of my cock? Or, are you looking for how many times I’ve already clicked on the picture, to enlarge and admire it?
Lola: I like to know that you think about me when you stroke that lovely cock of yours to my photos. Now write about that experience. Include where your wife is. How you keep this solo session from her? How it makes you feel? How I make you feel?
AL: Right now, my wife’s sleeping next to me naked. I’m in the bed, hard as a rock, looking at your photos. To tell the truth, I forgot how hard I get reading about you; way harder than looking at porn, that’s for sure.
All solo getting off has to be done on the sly for me. My wife and I have a soft agreement that I’m supposed to inform her when I ‘take care of myself.’. . . I often seek out your photos to simply admire and your stories to see what you’re up to, but. . . one thing leads to another. I don’t always tell my wife when I got off alone and I certainly don’t disclose what I looked at/thought about, especially when it was you. But these behaviors do cause me to develop a guilt factor when I’m wanting to take care of myself—which I don’t necessarily like.
I am fully aware that you don’t help my addiction. However, I am also aware that I have needs too, and my mind is fully capable of rationalizing the fact that getting off to your pictures is a lot safer than the ‘acting out’ behaviors I used to engage in.
Keeping you – your pictures and your stories – hidden away from my therapist and my wife certainly doesn’t help my situation, but, as long as I am careful and respectful, it doesn’t necessarily hurt. I like to think it keeps me in somewhat of a steady-state (which I think is only possible because of the fact that I am ‘high-functioning’ sex addict, as you called it). Deep down, I know that these are behaviors that need to change in order to fully ‘recover.’ But I have to ask myself two things: “Is recovery what I really want?” and “Where’s the fun in that?”
Lola: So you’re saying that getting off to me is what we might call ‘harms reduction’?
AL: That’s an interesting take, but yes, sort of a lesser of two evils (although you’re not evil; naughty, yes, but not evil as far as I know, haha). It’s kind of like, I know it is still reinforcing neural pathways that I’m trying to change, but still I pursue that behavior because of my brain’s ability to rationalize and compartmentalize.
Lola: Thought experiment – what would happen if you were married to me and I constantly had guys (and gals) coming over in order to cum over, in, on, to, with, and for me and you were there to watch? Would that be a cure?
AL: Now that just sounds hot! If that scenario were real, and guys and girls were coming over to cum with, in, and on you, then I think I’d be in my happy place, as long as you (as my wife) wanted it, and so did I. (I do, btw, I very much do!)
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?
Happy Families
The next morning, over coffee, while I was cooking up some eggs, Lo asked me completely out of nowhere, “You know what Meri told me when I asked her why the hell she is still with Scott, who has no penis to speak of?”
“No, Darling,” I said, “what?”
“Meri told me that she’s with him because, ‘He calls me: Daddy’s fat little babygirl.’ Can you believe that?”
“What’s not to believe?”
“What’s not to believe?!”
I flipped the eggs, looked at her, and raised my eyebrows in curiosity.
“I mean, well, she’s not fat.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“He’s fat if anyone’s fat.”
“Again, maybe he just likes to think of her that way.”
“She may have put on a few pounds after pumping out three boys, but she’s not fat. She’s a sexy MILF. Sexy… MILF… Meri,” she said, gazing off, looking over the brim of her coffee mug.
“You still here or have you gone back down your rabbit hole?”
“And you know what else?”
“No, Darling, what?”
“When I told her about how none of the boys shut the bedroom door while they each had at me –”
“Toast?”
She nodded her head ‘yes,’ as if yesterday’s full day of fucking had famished her.
“She told me that Scott never shuts the bedroom door.”
I carefully put the two eggs and toast in front of her. I did the same for myself before getting up to grab two glasses and the O.J.
She licked her lips and dug right in, tasting it briefly before continuing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting across from her, taking a bite of my breakfast. “He never shuts the bedroom door.”
“Never, since the kids were small. They just fuck there. Doesn’t matter who sees, who’s there, who knows. She says that he believes it shows their love for each other, so why hide it.”
“I take it you disagree.”
“Yes, I disagree.”
“So fucking doesn’t demonstrate love?”
“You know what I mean. Certain things are not meant for children to see. Aren’t you shocked at all?”
She was nearly done with her food already.
“Lo, honestly, nothing about Meri really shocks me.”
“What does that mean?”
I finished up my toast, took the last sip of my juice, and got up to collect the plates and glasses.
“You can’t just say something like that and leave it there,” she insisted. “What do you mean by that?”
“Different families have different internal cultures and norms,” I said, philosophically.
“This is not a study in cross-cultural family units,” she objected. “This is your typical suburban middle-class all-American family.”
“Typical families are all alike – each has its own hidden little secret,” I said, poorly paraphrasing Tolstoy.
“Don’t you mean, ‘Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’?” she asked. I love Lo because she’s one of the only humans on the planet with whom I can allude to literary lines and not only be understood, but be corrected.
“Show me a happy family and I will show you a family with a secret.”
“But that’s just it,” she retorted emotionally, “it’s like this family doesn’t have any secrets. They leave it all out there.”
“Is that so?” I asked snidely. “Then why have you and Meri been afraid that the cops or social services might rap on the door at any moment since you got back from your camping trip? If Meri leaves it all out there, then why is she living in fear?”
“That’s different. I mean, within the family, they all just live and let live.”
“More like fuck and let fuck.”
“Either way.”
“So?”
“I just find it interesting. Well, strange.”
“You said you don’t think it should be like that.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“And clearly Meri doesn’t either.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Because she asked to use the brothers (or let the brothers use her) so that she could get her kicks outside of the family.”
“Or maybe she just needed bigger kicks,” remarked Lo, alluding to the genetic trait that Meri’s husband shared with his three sons – the trait that left Lo so unfulfilled.
Lo looked into her empty coffee mug and back up at me sadly.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“What’s warm, wet, and makes you horny?”

Warm, Wet, and Stimulating
“Is this a riddle?”
She showed me her empty cup.
“Oh,” I said, comprehending. “You need me to fill you up.”
I poured more coffee in and she looked up at me seductively and said, “Just add cream.”
“Well,” I said to her, “I need something warm, wet, and stimulating to get up.”
“Here I am, Daddy,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“I was speaking about coffee, but really?” I asked because I thought she had been too well-worn to fuck.
“Well, I’m functional enough to give you a handjob.”
We finished our coffee and then walked to the bedroom where she reached down between my legs to assess the situation. She felt me and then reached down between her legs. I heard her smack her pussy a few times and then rub it. A little factoid about Lola – she never uses lube and certainly never spits in order to lubricate me or herself. She is almost always so naturally irrigated that she can always use her own secretions to get things slipping and sliding. She began stroking me. Despite the fact that she had showered and changed the bedding, I could still detect a whiff of the cum from eight people on her and in the room.
As she was distractedly stimulating me, she got a text. I heard her chuckle.
“What?” I asked.
She showed me a photo of her, naked, looking disheveled on the bed.

I want my family to see how I fucked you, slut
“After Meri had licked me clean, and was getting dressed, she said to me, ‘Did you like how I fucked you, Lola? Let me get a photo of you for my husband and my sons. They’ll want to see just how wrecked I left you, slut.’ She can be cruel sometimes.”
I looked at the photo and pictured all that happening as Lo coaxed me, “Cum. Please cum. That’s it, in my hand. Feel better, Daddy?”

Sweet Service
I had deposited a warm load in her palm. She licked it like a kitten cleaning her paws. I began to nod off as the waves of well-being washed over my weak body.
“Oh no,” said Lo, “No sleep for you! You promised you’d clean up all your books today!”
“I need a mancave to hibernate in,” I said groggily. “I’m just going rest for a little bit.”
“And I need a womancave!”
“Luckily, you have one.”
“And you’re not welcome in it until you clean up the books.”
I fell asleep.
When I woke up, Lo was going at both her womancaves with the plungers – blue in bum, pink in pussy.

Blue for Bum, Pink for Pussy
She was looking at her phone.
“DP? Really?” I asked.
“Oh, Daddy. You know I love double-penetration. And if you’re not going to give it to me, well, I have to get it somehow.”
“What brought this on? I thought you were too sore even for me.”
“It’s call desire.”
I was confused.
Once she noticed that I was watching her, she came and came hard, yelling out to me (and all the neighbors within earshot) that she was cumming in her ass and her cunt.

“I call it, ‘Desire'”
When she was done, I asked, “Desire?”
“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, “Scott and Meri each texted me separately that they want me.”
“And that’s what made you horny enough to ride dueling dildos?”
“Being desired is my aphrodisiac.”