I
was asleep, to begin with. There is no
doubt whatever about that. It was 4:45
in the a.m. and I was stirred from my slumber by the sonorous buzz of Lo’s
vibrator, the rhythmic rattle of the bed, and the blue glow illuminating her
face that was so contorted with a look of singular focus and intensity that I
thought I was seeing a ghost. She was
lying on her tum, both hands buried under the covers and under her body, the
phone propped up on a pillow about six inches in front of her. From the sound of the Hitachi’s hum and the
shaking of the bed, I deduced that she was working her clit with the Magic Wand
and her puss with a dildo, leaving no hands free.
I
opened one eye first and, upon seeing her apparition, I surprised myself with
my ability to remain inconspicuous. I
didn’t stir. I tried to give no hint
that I was, in fact, awake – inconsiderately propelled out of my torpor. I saw her struggle to keep the pleasure
points stimulated while simultaneously fumbling through her phone for
images.
Acutely
aware that no mortal would be able to withstand the auto-erotic stimuli that Lo
was producing, I announced my awakening by asking Lo, “Can I help you?”
I
was hoping she would be grateful if I would get behind her, replacing her
dildo, freeing up one hand so she could scroll through the photos. But no.
“Yeah,”
she said, not surprised and unconcerned that I was awake, “swipe left.”
I
did as she commanded. I looked at her
phone and there were pics of men, women, couples – all getting off to her
photos. As she gazed at each image, she
took in the content, and then said, “Swipe.”
A fan
She
was demanding, insistent, and a tad rude about it. But she had a goal and nothing was going to
get in her way – certainly not good manners.
“Swipe,”
she said. I did as told. Another photo of a guy jacking to her pics.
An Enthusiastic Fan
“Swipe.” A photo of a woman jilling to Lo.
“Swipe.” A picture of a couple; the woman gives the
guy a blowjob as Lo’s image is on the computer in front of them.
Stella’s Tribute
“Swipe.” A man with what looks to be a 12 inch
cock. He holds it with two hands as if
wielding it like a weapon. I hear Lo
whisper, “Fuck.” She scrunched up her
legs under her like an inchworm. The bed
rattled. It’s a big, heavy, solid
bed. It takes a lot for it to
rattle.
Lo said,
“Fuck!” Louder this time. More angry almost. I heard the Hitachi click into high
gear. Lo squeezed her eyes closed
tightly.
“FUCK!!!”
she called out. I heard the dildo shoot
out of her followed by the sounds of her geyser gushing onto the bed. She convulsed, clutching the bed sheets, burying
her head in the pillow and screaming at the top of her lungs:
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!”
Then
silence. Peace. Stillness.
She struggled
to lift her head. When she did, she looked
at me. Tears were streaming down her
cheeks.
“You ok?” I
asked.
She nodded,
a little ashamed.
“Feel
better?”
She nodded
again.
“Ready to
sleep?”
She nodded a
third time.
I pulled her
head to my chest where she rested it comfortably. One wet leg was lying flat on the bed nest to
my leg. She lifted the other wet leg and
placed it over my legs, parallel to her arm which reached around my chest. She was wrapped around me like a marsupial
clinging to a tree. I felt her puss
still slippery and perhaps ejaculating a dribble more like a leaky faucet on my
hips.
I kissed her
forehead and said, “Sleep.” There was no
need. I could tell by her breathing that
she was already in dreamland.
Meanwhile,
my cock was rock hard as the first light of dawn began to illuminate the
windows.
“You are beautiful.
Your eyes are beautiful. Your
mouth is beautiful. Your breasts are
beautiful. Your cunt is beautiful.”
Lola Down, spread wide
I was reading a message Lo received on her phone from
an admirer of the blog.
“A regular Shakespeare, that one,” I said.
“I think it’s sweet,” she responded, as her left hand
began to fondle her pussy lips under the covers.
“Sweet?! He
left out your hair, your nose, your neck, your shoulders, your tum, your ass,
your legs, your feet, and your toes!”
“I’m sure he was going to get there,” she said
matter-of-factly.
“Can I get there?” I asked, sounding a bit desperate
for affection, or her attention.
“Get where?” she asked, playing with me.
“Anywhere.
Between your legs, ideally.”
“Let’s see where this goes,” she said about her
internet friend, unfortunately, and not about my bid for her caress.
“I know where this
goes,” I said, putting her hand on my hard rod.
I was hard because her internet friend had sent a slew of photos of
himself jacking off to her pics and cumming all over them. She looked good in the sexy photos.
“Daddy,” she said, protesting, “I’m busy trying to
please my loyal fans.”
“I don’t mind, as long as you do it while spreading
your legs.”
“I’m spreading the love.”
“Can you spread the love wide enough for me to get in
on it?”
“Your pussy looks pretty and gorgeous,” wrote another
fan.
“It is pretty, gorgeous, wet and waiting to be
filled,” she wrote back.
“Me, me!” I said, “Pick me.”
“Calm down, Daddio,” she said, full of vanity fed by
her fans’ flattery.
“Tell me more about you,” wrote another internet
correspondent.
“Read the books,” typed Lo, “There’s
too much to tell and too many people to tell it to.”
“You’re hard, girl,” responded the inquirer.
“Funny, everyone tells me I’m easy,” quipped Lo, “and
that makes them hard.”
“I love your stories,” wrote one female fan.
“H.H. writes. I
inspire,” wrote Lo to her.
“Do you inspire with your body?”
“And my wit.”
“I’m inspired right now!” I said to Lo as I grabbed my
cock firmly. “They all are cumming to
you. Can I cum to you?”
“Cum to, on, in, with, over, under, around, beside – I
provide the pussy. You pick the
preposition,” she said, dismissively.
I got up on my knees and stood over her, jacking my
cock.
“Just don’t cum on my phone,” she said as she
continued to scroll through her contacts.
She continued to fondle herself beneath me for a while
before she said, “Daddio, lie down next to me.
I’ll help you.”
I lay down and she grabbed me by my shaft. “I’m your righthand man,” I said as she jacked
me off with her right and scrolled with her left.
“My wife is nothing like you,” wrote one desperate,
sad husband.
“You two should
read our blog together. It would open up
her mind. . . and pussy.”
“I could never
suggest it,” he wrote, “she’d freak!”
“But you like it?”
asked Lo.
“God yes,” he
sighed through the medium of type.
“Tell me what a young, sexy, slutty person such as
myself does for you.”
“I’d love to eat your yummy, sloppy, used, cum-filled
holes,” he wrote.
“Another bard!” I opined sarcastically.
“Shut up and cum,” commanded Lo as she tugged more
aggressively.
“Are you in a rush?” I asked.
“Both hands are full,” she said, “leaving nothing for
my snatch.”
“I’ll happily fill that gap.”
“You stay right where you are,” she ordered.
“Has she ever caught you jacking off?” wrote Lo to her
married man.
“No. It would
be a big deal if she did. It would be an
even bigger deal if she caught me jacking off to you and not to porn.”
“I am porn,” protested Lo.
“I mean, it’s one thing to get off to anonymous,
vacuous, impersonal, professionally produced porn and it’s quite another thing
to get off to you.”
“That’s more like it,” responded Lo.
“That’s it, I’m getting up and out of bed,” I said.
“But nooooo.”
“Yes. You’re
just treating my cock like it a joystick to your favorite video game.”
“A game I always win.”
She continued stroking.
“Are you into length or girth?” asked her internet
interloper.
“I’m into cock.
And cock gets into me.”
“Once again, I must protest!” I said. “You’ve got a very capable, compatible, and
coveted cock right here, but you’re not letting it into you!”
“What, ole man, my right hand isn’t enough for you?”
“Not when you’re teasing those guys about how fast and
loose you like to play.”
A new fan chimed in, “I
have to stop sinning. I’m religious,
that’s why I can’t go on doing this.”
“Sex is
spiritual. And I’m a sex goddess. Worship at my alter,” replied Lo.
“Now you’re
offering theology lessons?” I chided.
“No. Just encouraging them to be good
semenarians.”
“That was
terrible. Low hanging fruit,” I replied.
She cupped
my testicles and said, “Very low hanging.”
“Oh, does your wit never cease?!”
Now
she squeezed my balls to show me that I had better be careful about mocking
her.
Another
woman asked Lo if she liked taboo tales.
To which Lo responded, “How
taboo are we talking here?”
The woman said she was into watersports and bestiality.
Lo wrote back, “Let’s knot.”
“Don’t you mean. . . oooooh, I get it,” I said.
“Woof!” she said to me.
The woman, whose name was Mila Beijne., went on to tell a little story.
I was a model a
few years back and after doing a shoot I was talking a bit with the
photographer, the lighting guy and his assistant. They invited me to their home. I trusted them and liked them. We were all horny and I was willing, I admit. At the photographer’s home we had some drinks
and then they slowly undressed me. They
got naked too. They were all good looking men and one was really hung. They
kissed me everywhere and started fucking me in my mouth, pussy, and ass. I was very horny. After quite a long time,
they changed positions, each taking a different hole. Then they rotated again and fucked me a long
time again till I was exhausted. They
filled me up in every place they could. But
the fun was not over yet. One put me on
the floor and the other started urinating over me. Then the other two joined in.
It was a lot and all over my body and in
my long hair. There was no shower, so it
was a special experience driving home.
It was my first time doing that and I liked how the act showed their dominance
over me.
Mila asked to be included.Mila B. through the years
I could see Lo getting increasingly more excited as she read the short little story from Mila. She quickly wrote back, “Yeah, HH does that to me. I love it. Being below him, feeling his warm stream flow over my back and butt.”
“We haven’t done that in a while,” I
reminded her.
She ignored me because another fan
had written to her. This guy was
old. I mean, like twenty years older
than I and I’m in my 50’s! His name was
Bob and he wrote:
Hi Lola, and thank you!
You are an inspiration to me. I
hope you can give me some advice.
I’m in my 70’s and I’ve been in a relationship for over 25 years. No passion or sex for the last 20 years. I’m at a loss as it has become impossible to
talk about it with her. I’ve made the
mistake of combining our lives and living situations this whole time. It has become all about her for the last
several years. I feel I’m too old to
begin another relationship with a woman, yet I still admire all women and all
that I see on your blog. I’ve even
become curious about men as I feel that may be the only way to explore my
unresolved sexual fantasies. Yet I’m
still conflicted as I long for an intimate relationship that I’ve missed in my
life.
Do you have any suggestions??
Lola wrote back, “To tell you the truth, Bob, I’m just good wanking material, but I’m not a sex coach or a sex therapist. You might want to check out one of these trained professionals to get some expert advice on having more sex with spirit.” She provided a link. Then she added, “But if you’re looking for a real hotwife, cum to me.”
“What?!” I said to her, shocked that
she’d even offer that to him.
She ignored me and
typed, “I have a very soft spot for old married men whose wives no longer have
sex with them. Would you like to see
it?”
Of course he said
yes. Lo sent him a naughty pic of the
place between her legs that she was denying to me.
“Lo, that’s just
cruel!” I said.
“What? Soon you’re going to be that old and you’d
want the same from me. Wouldn’t you?”
“What’s cruel is
that I’m that old man who is being denied right now!”
“If what I’m
giving you isn’t good enough, then take matters into your own hands,” she
said.
As
she said it, another married man was singing her praises in a message that
read, “I’ve come to worship your holy holes.”
“See,”
she said, “I’ve got fans who know how to woo me.”
“Woo
you? They worship you!”
“What’s
the difference?”
After
some flirtatious back-and-forth, Lo asked to see a pic of the man’s wife.
He
asked why she wanted to see that and Lo responded, “I like to see who I’m
beating out when guys are beating off to me.”
The
guy sent a photo. His wife was
beautiful. But apparently she lacked the
‘personality’ of Lo. He wanted to know
more about Lo and he asked her questions.
“I’m
like an open book, there for anyone to read,” she responded, “You just have to
know where to find me. Are you familiar
with the Dewey Decimal system?”
“Like, in the library?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I can find you in my local
library?”
“If only,” wrote Lo, “I’m indexed
under XXX.”
“As in 30?” he wrote with a winkface
emoji. “Still pretty young.”
“Pretty, young, and slutty. I’ll tell you what, you can virtually finger
my folios at: mysexlifewithlola.com,” she said, “and you can also buy the books
there. I suggest you get a few copies of
each and donate the extras to your local library so everyone can spread my
centerfold for free.”
As Lo was typing, she guided my cock
to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the tip. She looked up at me as her hand continued to glide
back and forth from the base to her mouth.
I began to cum and she hungrily held me in place so as not to spill a
drop. I was so worked up that I couldn’t
control my convulsions. I began
breathing deep, heavy breaths. Lo looked
up at me and said, “What?! Are you having
a stroke?”
When I finally managed to catch my breath, I looked
down at her and said, “Yeah, I’m having a stroke. A really good stroke.”
Lo
wrote a final line to her fans: “Good night all you kinky sexy rogues. Dream of me in your debauched nocturnal
thoughts.”
She put her phone down, grabbed her Hitachi, lay back,
shut her eyes, and began vibrating until she was the one violently convulsing,
squirting, and gasping for air.
When she was done and had removed the Magic Wand from
between her legs, she grabbed my hand and placed it on her bare pussy for me to
feel how wet she was. She’s proud that
she can turn on the tap almost at will.
“Pull my pussy lips, Daddy,” she said. I stretched them. “Harder.”
I pulled more. “Harder Daddy,”
she complained.
“Lo, if I pull them any further they’ll be down to
your knees.”
“Try it,” she said.
She likes the pain or pleasure.
As I pulled I asked her, “What were you thinking about when you came?”
“I think about you.”
This line from her was as false as Marlow telling Kurtz’s
betrothed that Kurtz’s last words were her name.
“OK, that’s enough of that,” I said, calling
bullshit. “What did you really think about?”
“I think about you,” she said. “And I think about cock. I think about a lot of cock.”
“That’s it?”
“And pussy.”
I gave up there knowing that the
litany of licentious thoughts could go on endlessly. I sat silently and she mistook my silence for
judgment.
“You don’t know
what it’s like to be me!” she blurted out defensively.
“Oh yeah, you’ve
got it so hard,” I said sarcastically.
“I wish,” she said
even more sarcastically as she lifted up my flaccid member in her hand.
“You know,” I said, “your porn persona and your
personality are not consistent.”
“What are you talking about?”
“All those people out there thinking you’re a
nymphomaniac, thinking that I am so inundated with your pussy that I barely can
find a moment’s peace, yet the reality is that you denied me just now.”
“There’s no inconsistency.”
“How not?”
“Because I know you’re going to write about this and
so it will be part of my porn persona.”
It was one of
those strange April nights when the temperature drops twenty degrees from the daytime
high of 68, the wind rustles up the new buds on the trees outside, and from out
of the darkness, lighting, thunder, and downpours fill the sky. Lola couldn’t sleep. When I got to bed she said, “I’ve tried
everything. I’ve tried meditation,
masturbation, guided meditation, guided masturbation. . .”
“Wait. What is ‘guided masturbation’?”
“Oh,
well, I called up a friend and asked him to tell me how he wants me to
masturbate,” she said as if it were no big deal.
“You
did?”
She
nodded her head in affirmation and pouted saying, “But it didn’t help.”
“I
bet it helped him. Why didn’t you call
me?”
“You
were working hard, Daddy.”
“So?”
I asked, frustrated by the thought that she’d rather hear inappropriate
instructions from one of her suitors than from me.
“Are
you still hard at work?” she asked seductively, rubbing my crotch to gauge my
state of arousal.
“Work
hard, play hard,” I said, as I pulled out my manhood for her to see.
She grabbed it while licking her
lips.
“You
know I’m not just a sex organ,” I said.
“I
think your brain is a sex organ,” she replied as she went down on me.
“In
that case, I have a very large sex organ.”
She
interrupted her activity to look up at me and say, “And growing larger.”
“I’m
not that big,” I said.
“I
meant your ego.”
“I’ll
have you know, I’m very humble.”
“Looks
to me, you have a lot to be humble about,” she said caustically.
“What
do you mean?”
She
pulled down the sheets to reveal her huge horse-cock dildo on the bed next to
her, still glistening.
“I’m
so big, wide, and wet that I wouldn’t feel any bit of you.”
“Care
to test that hypothesis?”
“I’m stretched to my
limit.”
“You have a limit? That’s news to me!”
“‘Limit’ is a flexible term. Like ‘full’ or ‘fucked.’”
“Oh, so it’s elastic?”
“Yeah, it can be used in many
different ways.”
“Depends on who’s using it.”
“Right. It takes a lot of abuse, but it is never
exhausted.”
“Never wears out.”
“Right.”
“Like this terrible pun.”
“What pun?”
“Are we still talking about ‘limit’?”
“I wasn’t, were you?”
“Darling, you certainly do push the
limits.”
“What limits?”
“All of them. But the real question is, why did you call on
some other guy for your ‘guided masturbation’ when you could have called upon
me?”
“So many married men turn to me for
sweet release. I’m a goddess of pussy. I answer to the call of depravity.”
“But you called him!”
“Well, I saw that he had posted a
pic of a cumtribution he had made for another girl and he wrote, ‘For my
beautiful cum slut.’ I called him to
remind him that I am his beautiful
cum slut.”
“You think you’re everyone’s
beautiful cum slut.”
“Well, aren’t I?”
“Everyone but mine, I guess.”
“Oh,
Daddy,” she said, still holding my cock firmly in her hand, “would you make a
cumtribution for me? Would you jack it
to my photos and cum all over them?”
“Lo,
why would I do that when I have you right here, in the flesh?”
“To
show me your unfailing love.”
“Lo,
I write thousands upon thousands of pages of poetry for you, but you’d rather I
grab my masculine member and stroke it until I ejaculate a hot mess over your
image?”
“I
call it giving tribute to my icon.”
“Because
you’re a goddess of pussy.”
“Now
you’re turning me on!”
“Those
are your words.”
“Well,
you feel that way, don’t you?”
“How
could I not, darling. It is the truth.”
“So
you’ll make an offering at my virtual alter?”
“If
you want me to, I will.”
“Now?”
“Whenever
you say.”
“No,
not now. I want you to do it when I’m
away. Now you can enter my holy temple.”
“But
I thought I wouldn’t even feel you.”
“You
won’t and I won’t feel you, but why should that stop us from fucking?”
I
got between her legs and entered her. She
was right – it was like a mere mortal entering the pearly gates. However, that only made it more alluring for
me. She could tell I was getting turned
on.
“Cum inside me,” she said.
“Put your fingers inside you, right where you want me
to cum.”
She inserted almost her whole fist along over my cock
and I could feel her fingering her G-spot.
“There,” she said, “right there.”
I came and came with force all over her fingers. She gripped my cock with her hand inside her
and milked it for every drop.
When I pulled out, she said she was going to clean up. I drifted off on the bed until I heard her
calling out for God from the shower. It
startled me. I navigated the thick cloud
of steam to find her squatting on the shapely bottle of Dove shampoo, rubbing
her clit, and cumming uncontrollably.
(Do they make the bottles that shape for that purpose or did she buy that
brand because of its ergonomic contours?
The questions Lo causes me to ask.)
I disappeared into the fogbank as stealthily as I had
entered it. I went back to the bed. When she climbed in naked next to me, I held
her warm body.
“Just in time,” I said.
“Just in time for what?” she asked.
“Tomorrow is the first of May.”
“Hooray!
Hooray! It’s the first of May!”
she sung, “Outdoor fucking starts today!”
“No, silly,” I said.
“April showers.”
“Oooooh,” she said, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll let you see
my pink flower.”
“Me and the rest of the world.”
“A beautiful flower should not be hidden away to be
seen only by one man.”
You,
dear reader, already know that Lola is an inveterate masturbator. You also know that I am forbidden from any
onanistic activities, unless either explicitly given permission, or told to do
so as a performance for my dear Lola.
The fact that there is a gap in our respective frequencies of
masturbatory manipulation should come as no surprise to you, and writing about
it here would simply be redundant.
However,
what I do intend on explaining, or rather, complaining about, is the
fundamentally unfair masturbation gap that exists between Lola, me, and her
fans. You see, I am not allowed to
engage in solo pleasure, not even to Lola’s sexy photos, unless granted
permission by Lo herself. And she takes
so much delight in my stymied suffering and enjoys my engorged balls so much,
that she rarely gives me the green light.
But with her fans it is another story.
One might think that Lola has no say over what her admirers do in the privacy
of their own homes with her pixilated pussy.
But that is incorrect. One of
Lo’s most enjoyable pastimes is to give specific instructions to her loyal
lovers (both near and far) about exactly how they are to worship her image, pay
tribute to her form, and pleasure themselves.
One of Lo’s Long Admirers
One
adoring admirer writes to her and asks, “What’s up?” to which she replies, “If
you’re looking at my pics, then, your cock.”
She’s not wrong.
Another
writes to her and asks very politely, “Morning, Lola. How are you?” to which she replies, “Horny,
as usual. Now jack it for me.”
They
are more than eager to comply. It
matters not to them if they are at work, home, or, as Lola really likes, lying
in bed next to their sleeping wives.
A Very Happy Fan
She
commands some of them, especially the diminutively endowed guys, to go to a
lingerie store, like Victoria’s Secret, and pick out various silk, satin, and
lace panties for women. Then she
instructs them to put the panties on and jack it to her pics and cum in the
sexy, sheer, tight material – taking pics of it, of course. An even more intense kink of Lo’s is
commanding those same fabric fetish guys to steal the panties from their wives
or girlfriends in order to wear while jacking it to Lo’s photos.
Lo Loves All Her Fans, Big & Little
Those
are the lucky ones. There are some
unfortunate fellas who are stuck in cock-cages and can only enjoy Lo’s photos
without any self-pleasure.
And
then there are the women. It is such a
complement to Lo when lovely ladies from around the globe take photos of
themselves jillin’ off to her. I will
admit that I find it very flattering when the women also make a comment about
“the steamy writing,” or say, “that story made me cum five times.” It is nice to know that every once in a while
the literary seduction I work so very hard to create from the raw material of
Lo’s sexual exploits is appreciated, especially by the lonely women, the
married but unsatisfied wives, and the other sexual insatiables out there like
Lo.
A Lovely Couple – He took the pick of her getting off to Lola
There
was a time, early on, when I actually had a small cadre of female fans who
wrote to me regularly. It was, not
coincidentally, around that time that Lo took over the email and other social
media outlets, telling me, “You do the blog, I’ll spread the word.”
Reading the Blog
Spread
the word. . . yeah right! She meant,
she’ll spread her legs and then disseminate her photos across the
internet.
But I’m not complaining. I am glad that our little corner, or crotch, of the blogosphere makes so many people happy, even if it means that I must deny myself the pleasures that others get from my hotwife Lo. After all, I have to admit that I have nothing to complain about since fans and her lovers alike all tell me how lucky I am. Can’t argue there.
I had just returned from a week-long fishing trip with three of my friends. For the record, I despise fishing. Fishing is for people who want to be in nature but who don’t know how simply to be in nature without purpose, goal, or utilitarian project. I am not of their ilk. The silver lining to this trip was that it was up in the mountains, on a lake, in a log cabin. The downside to this trip was that there was absolutely no wi-fi within a twenty mile radius of where we were staying. That meant no communication with Lo for a week!
I was nearly beside myself needing a fix of her lovely skin, her soft touch, her caress. I didn’t even have her voice to sustain me. No gradual withdrawal from her, my drug of choice. No substitute for her intoxicant. The closest I could get was a specially curated set of photos I had of her stored on my phone. “Favorites.”
We did get radio and this classic rock song played, mocking my predicament:
I’m out a luck, out a love
Gotta photograph, picture of
Passion killer, you’re too much
You’re the only one I want to touch
I see your face every time I dream
On every page, every magazine
So wild and free so far from me
You’re all I want, my fantasy
Yes, I missed her. I craved her. I wanted to praise her. And I did, telling my friends what I could about my little nymph, without revealing too much or our special dalliances that are reserved just for us – oh, and all of you, our lovely reading public.
At night, I set up her image on my phone and sat at my computer to write sexy, sensual stories to her, for her, about her. I dreamt of the naughty things she was doing while I was away. I would look at the photos as lyrics from a song filtered in from the other room:
Photograph I don’t want your
Photograph I don’t need your
Photograph all I’ve got is a photograph
But it’s not enough
My pals knew how devoted to Lo I was, but they were unaware of how free I allow her to be. One of them walked in while I was writing. Seeing my phone on the desk next to me with Lo’s image on it, he casually picked it up. I made as if to protest, but I didn’t protest too much. He looked at the photos I had of her – naughty photos – and shared his discovery with the others. They ridiculed me, ribbed me, and teased me for my Playboy internet pornstar.
Even the radio mocked me with the lyrics:
You can’t imagine what your image means.
The pages come alive.
Your magic greets everyone who reads.
Heart-break in overdrive
Are you for real, it’s so hard to tell, from just a magazine.
Yeah, you just smile and the picture sells, look what that does to me.
One night, after many shots of whiskey, they eventually pried out of me a confession of her sins. They sat, wide-eyed, hard-up, and enraptured by the stories I spun. At first they doubted, then they shouted, and finally they pouted. They wanted her. Two of my three friends were married. One had been dating for under a year. They envied me as I felt pangs of guilt for revealing the innermost sanctum of our little mystery cult of two.
They say that all of us live three lives: a public; a private; and a secret life. Where is my life with Lo? It’s secret, on one level. But not secret to each other. It’s private, between the two of us. But yet we publish it for all to see. Our most intimate parts are literally on display for the world.
Revealing who we are to you, our dear readers, is one thing. Saying it directly, face-to-face to close, and long-time friends of flesh-and-blood is another. They know the public, curated portrait of our coupled relationship. That image is professional, wholesome, vanilla. We do little to ‘queer the space,’ as the saying goes.
Privately, we are a kinky couple who invite others to join in with our merry mischief. We are content doing this and feel no shame, no guilt about healthy, non-monogamous trysts. Lo simply acts on the fantasies that many women share, but rarely articulate, even to their lovers.
Secretly, we each find delight in her exhibitionist tendencies. That’s no secret to you, dear reader, but, if you happen to know us IRL (‘in real life’), we’d appreciate your keeping it to yourself. Thanks.
But now, three of my closest friends were in on it. Not as in on it as you are, mind you, since I didn’t reveal to them anything about the blog. But they were in the know about Lo’s sweet, sexy, slutty side. To my surprise, they were not only envious, but desirous. Each of them requested a night alone with my phone. Since there was no wi-fi, I thought it would be fine. They couldn’t email themselves Lo’s sexy pics. They couldn’t text them to themselves. What harm would there be in letting my three friends get their rocks off to my girlfriend’s nude selfies?
It turns out I was quite naïve. At the time, I knew nothing of “AirDrop” and how it could work without wi-fi. Needless to say, all three of my friends now have Lo’s sexy pics on their phones and who knows how many other friends of theirs as well! (I only found this out much later.)
Fishing, drinking, and jacking off to Lola was how we spent the rest of the week.
On the ride home, as soon as I was reconnected to the invisible world that surrounds us, I texted Lo. I let her know my ETA. She responded with: “TCB.” That is, “Taking Care of Business,” our code for her masturbating. I couldn’t wait to see her.
The guys dropped me off at home and I eagerly entered the house. I found Lo wearing my flannel shirt, unbuttoned to her navel, and nothing else. What a welcome sight!
I followed her to the bedroom, telling her how wonderful she looked. Eager to preserve the moment, I took out the camera and shot a few sexy pics of her lying on the bed looking like the perfect temptress.
“Tell me about your week, Daddio,” she asked.
“Later. Let me have you first,” I said, impatiently.
“Oh, but Daddio, I haven’t heard from you all week. Tell me about it.”
“Later, Lo,” I pleaded. “I want you now.”
She was clearly enjoying the role reversal of Coy and Craving.
I started to grab at her. “You know, I’m not fast food. You can’t just order and have your meal.”
“Let me spread my mayonnaise on you,” I said.
“Oh Daddio, so crude!”
“Lo, you don’t understand.”
“I’m not really into it right now,” she said. She was truly going to milk this for all she could, and not in a good way.
“But I’ll get you into it by getting into you!”
“No, no,” she said like a coquette. “Tell me about your fishing trip.”
“Let me plunge my fishing rod deep in your C,” I responded.
Then it struck me with great irony that here I am, a writer of erotica, rushing to physical gratification when all Lo wanted was to be wooed by my words. She wanted me to tell her a naughty story. And fortuitously, I had a good story to tell.
I got up close next to her and told her about how much I missed her, how I longed for her, how I gazed at her photos while writing stories about her, and how I got found out by the guys. I revealed that her seductive image was used not only by me but by the other three as well. Though it clearly upset her to know that they had seen her, it also excited her to know that they used her photos to get off. Cognitive dissonance.
“Do you think that they stole my photos and have them on their phones?” she asked.
“How could they?” I responded. “There was no wi-fi.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “If they did, do you think that they’d look at them at night while their wives were sleeping?”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Do you think that when they see me, they’ll picture me naked?”
“Not only that, I bet they’ll picture you doing all sorts of naughty things.”
“Like what things?” she asked.
“Sucking cock.”
“Just one?”
“Sucking cocks,” I said, correcting myself. “Fucking many guys. Dogging strangers at truck rest stops.”
She was getting riled up now.
“Have me, Daddy,” she said.
Finally! The words I longed to hear all week!
She spread her legs wide, but then she said, “Wait,” just as I was about to plunge in.
“What?”
“Wait,” she repeated. “Do you have a condom?”
“A condom? No. Why?”
“I’m ovulating something fierce right now.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“No. You’ve been on the wagon for a week. You’re not to be trusted.”
“I haven’t slipped a puck passed the goalie yet.”
“Will you stop with that awful analogy.”
She had her hands behind her knees and her knees up to her ears. She looked up at me. She wanted me, desperately. I wanted her even more desperately. She moved one of her hands to grab my cock. She bounced the tip of it off her clit a few times and let out a moan.
“Are we good?” I asked.
“Jack it,” she commanded.
“I could have jacked it all week. I want you.”
“What do you mean you could have jacked it all week? Not without permission you can’t,” she said, reminding me of the rules.
“But you gave me permission, remember? You said I could jack it so long as I jacked it to your pics and only your pics. That was the whole reason that we took those sexy pics that the guys found on my phone.”
“And you didn’t jack it?”
“No.”
“Not to me? Not to my pics?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted you. I looked to your pics for inspiration. I wrote like three novels up there about you, just gazing at your sexy photos.”
“But they jacked it to my pics?”
“Yes.”
Just the thought of it caused her to squirt on my incredibly hard phallus.
“Jack it,” she said again. I could see that the image in her mind of guys jacking off to her photos was playing on her interior screen. “Jack it like a man,” she repeated.
I grabbed my cock with my left hand. She watched me. “Do you like my pussy, Daddy?”
“Yes, Lo.”
“Play with it.”
I didn’t know if she wanted me to play with my cock or her puss. It was ambiguous.
I let go of my member and she continued to hold both her legs back with her hands. I gently caressed her hips and slid my hands down from the back of her knees to her inner thigh. With both hands I pulled and pushed her pussy lips – spreading them apart, squeezing them together.
“Yeah,” she moaned. She squirted on my hands and the warm liquid dribbled down her ass. I let my fingers strum her perineum and anus. She moaned, indicating she liked what I was doing. I let my right thumb run circles over her special spot.
“I missed you, Daddy,” she said.
“Did you jill it when I was away?”
“Yes,” she said.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know. A lot.”
“To what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Everything. Sometimes I thought about you. Sometimes I thought about other men. Sometimes I thought about other women. Videos, pics that people send me, stories that you wrote, stories that other people wrote.”
“Did you talk on the phone to anyone?”
“No Daddy.”
“Did you have anyone over?”
“No Daddy.”
“Did you want to?”
“I always want to, Daddy.”
She came again. She slapped her right hand on her pussy to keep the ejaculation flowing. Then she took her soaking hand and stroked my cock.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She reached down, up and under my cock, grabbing my balls from beneath.
“They’re so big, Daddy. Are they full?”
“So full, Lo,” I said.
She cupped them and one of her fingers pushed its way further back until she was doing to me what I had been doing to her.
“Cum, Daddy. I want you to cum. Let it out. That’s it. Be a good dog and let it go.”
I could take it no longer. I grabbed my throbbing rod and fired off a load that shot up past her shoulder onto the pillow. Missed. But the second spurt was more accurate. It made a high arc and landed squarely on her face. Seeing that, more followed until I was falling back on my haunches in a fit of ecstasy and exhaustion.
“I’m hit! I’m hit!” she cried out. “Don’t just lie there, do something!”
All I could do was let out a chuckle amid my heavy heaving breaths.
She got up from the bed, my cum dripping down onto her breasts, and got a washcloth from the bathroom to clean up.
“Feeling better?” she asked as she looked down at me from the side of the bed.
Lola and I were staying were visiting friends for Thanksgiving out of town. We were invited over for the Thanksgiving Day meal and, just before sitting down, Lo saw that her phone had a message. She opened it up and looked at a photo that one of her fans had sent. She bent over to look at it more carefully. She asked me to fuck her in the bathroom. I found her irresistible and entered her from behind while she continued to admire her admirer. I took out my phone and took a quick pic of us in the mirror.
On the right is the photo the friend sent in.
The story is now published and you can read it here: Very Thankful
In the past we have periodically featured some letters and guest posts from some of our readers. Because we’ve received so much mail in the past year, we are now including a regular feature of kinky letters and write-in questions. To start us off, we begin with a lovely couple that go by the names of Cake & Bar (you’ll find out why below.) They have a Tumblr and they post short films of their sexy passion for each other:
Q: Let’s begin with the name. What’s Cake and Bar all about?
A: Well, Bar loves cheesecake (the actual food) and also loves Cake’s ass, so her name came easy. Bar has a very veiny dick and looks like a big Snickers when it’s fully erect, so that was the inspiration. The name is are also a play on us being an interracial couple.
Q: It looks like you started your Tumblr in July 2017. Is this exhibitionism something new for you two? How’d you get into it?
A: We started our Tumblr after being suspended from Twitter permanently for some odd reason. Tumblr was another way for us to share our sexuality and advertise for our porn movies on Manyvids. We’ve been on Manyvids for a year now, so yes we guess you could say we’re new to exhibitionism and porn making in general. Bar has always loved taking pictures of Cake, so one day he asked if we could start posting pictures anonymously to see the feedback we would get it from other people and the rest is history. For the most part it has been nothing but positive experiences.
Q: How long have you been a couple?
A: We’ve been together 15 years and been married 5 years and we have 2 children.
Q: Are you currently monogamous? If not, what’s the relationship like?
A: Yes, we’re monogamous.
Q: How has been the response to your posting pics and films of yourselves? A lot of Tumblr folks complain of people being rude or having derogatory things to say. That hasn’t been our experience. What about you?
A: For the most part we’ve had positive responses to the things we’ve shared. There’s always going to be some negative, but we take it in stride because it’s expected with the internet.
Q: You don’t show your faces in the pics/vids. Do you worry that you’ll be found out?
A: We don’t worry per se about being found out, but we like anonymity and the masks give us something else to set the scene with.
Q: Do any of your friends/family know about your kinky side?
A: Only 2 of our friends know we make porn and they’re totally supportive of us.
Q: What do you each like (in terms of sex/porn)?
A, Bar: Straight amatuer porn, mostly Interracial and Black. Some professional porn like the Greg Lanskys stuff.
A, Cake: Doesn’t enjoy watching porn as much as she likes shooting it.
HH & Lo: Thanks so much!!!!
Cake & Bar: You’re welcome and thanks for your patience with our response.
Some photos from Cake & Bar getting off to Lola (more can be found at their Tumblr and at loladown.tumblr.com):
Carrying a mug of coffee, I walk in on her just as she is squirting, pulling the Hitachi away from her clit. Her hands scrunch up the sheets under her and her legs are spread. Her head lifts and her breasts heave as she breathes quick breaths, screaming, “Oh Fuck! Oh FUCK! OH Fuuuuck!!!” She looks over at me and says, “Don’t just stand there, get me a towel!” I do so.
“I just came to tell you breakfast is ready.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Daddio!”
“When you’re ready, I’ll see you at the breakfast table.”
“But you didn’t kiss me good morning.”
“Yes I did.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I did – all night long.”
“Yeah. I had to punch you to get you to stop and let me sleep.”
“Well, those were your good morning kisses.”
“I want one now.”
I lean over to kiss her good morning. She lets me kiss her on the lips before pushing my head down between her legs. “I meant there,” she says.
“Lo, I’m not going to eat you out before I eat breakfast. It’s on the table getting cold!”
“Just one kiss, Daddio. Please.”
I indulge her. One kiss turns to a full-on tongue-fuck-fest of every area between her legs from the small of her back to her bellybutton. Luckily she cums quickly. I pull back and go into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Her juices have a way of soaking my beard and mustache. I look up, into the vanity mirror over the sink and see her preparing to pound herself with a dildo.
“OK, that does it!” I call to her. “I’m just going to throw out the breakfast I made.”
“No, Daddio, I’ll be there in. . .” Her words trail off as she becomes preoccupied with the instrumental manipulation of her puss.
I walk out of the bedroom, my hard-on leading the way. I sit down at the breakfast table alone and eat the luke-warm eggs and toast while I hear her sing-song voice of oohs and ahs crescendo from the bedroom.
When we’re both done, I stand up, put my plate and glass in the sink and I bring her her breakfast on a tray.
“Oh, breakfast in bed!” she squeals, leaning over to put her toys away safely stashed under the bed.
“If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain will come to Mohammed.”
“Daddy, I’ll cum to anything.”
“Don’t I know it! What did you cum to today?”
“I’m sorry Daddy,” she says, looking guilty.
“Why? Because you let your eggs and toast get cold?”
She shakes her head, no.
“What is it then? That you used my mouth, but kept all the orgasms to yourself?”
Again she shakes her head in the negative. Keeping orgasms to herself gives her no guilt.
“Then what?”
She passes her phone to me. I look at it. It’s a photo of a giant black cock.
“A friend of yours?”
“Not yet, but I hope someday.”
“Who is it?”
“Just a fan.”
“A fan of your pics, not my writing I assume.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him about it.”
“What’s he have to say for himself?”
“I don’t know. He just sent me this pic and. . .”
“And it’s got you all preoccupied.”
She shook her head yes with a guilty look on her face. “I want it, Daddy!” she said like a girl asking for a big lollipop at the circus.
I turn to leave the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To do the dishes.”
“I’ll do it!”
“No, I’ll do it. I don’t like the way you do it. Besides, you have to eat your cold breakfast.”
“Why do you wish to maintain control all the time?”
“It’s not a matter of retaining control. It’s a matter of maintaining standards.”
“You have so many standards. Double standards.”
“I only have one standard. . . the best.”
“That’s my line,” she says, followed by, “but, if you’re speaking about me, then go on.”
I finally walk out the bedroom into the kitchen. As I’m in the midst of putting dishes into the dishwasher, Lo saunters up to the entrance of the kitchen naked as the day she was born, she turns to me and says, “Are you jealous?” She’s always trying to get me jealous, to no avail.
“Lo, you’re standing right where the neighbors can see you through the window, you know.”
“Does that make you jealous?”
“No. But it may make the neighbor’s wife jealous!”
“Phhh,” she sounds dismissively, bending over to give the neighbor a more explicit view. As she’s bent over, she says, “I’m just a hotwife with an exhibitionist’s streak and a loving man who can use his fingers to type out stories that make people come back for more.”
“I don’t think your big friend was coming back for my writing.”
“Well, I can’t help it if behind every good nympho is a line of men waiting to fuck her and behind every bad nympho is a longer line.”
“Which one are you?”
“Fuck me, Daddy, and you’ll see.”
“No, Lo, I already know. I was just testing to see if you would admit to it.”
“The line behind me is very long, very hard,” she says as she reaches over and grabs my cock.
“That doesn’t make sense. How is the line hard?”
“Fuck me and I’ll show you.”
She bends over, this time with her rear towards me rather than toward the window.
“Are you still doing the same old thing?” I ask.
“You mean you?” she asks, looking at me from between her legs.
“Very funny. This ‘old thing’ is going to work.”
“Work on me!”
“Didn’t I make you cum this morning? – and you squirted all over me and the bed!”
“That was a drop in the bucket.”
She wiggles her ass, like she’s playing charades. So I guess, “You’re horny.”
She sees the bulge in my khakis. “And you want me.”
“Yes, Lo. I always want you. But sometimes I have to actually go to work.” I walk over to her and give her wiggling bum a good smack.
“Mmmmm,” she moans, “again!”
I repeat.
“I love spankings,” she says, “they’re like applause, but on my ass! Let me hear how much you like my ass.”
I ‘applaud’ her five or six times. But I do no more than applaud. I then walk out of the kitchen.
“But Daddy,” I hear her call down the hallway, “what about my encore!”
I leave the house and go to work, but on my way home that afternoon, I stop and run a special errand for Lo. For a while now I’ve wanted to try a cock sleeve. I run into my local adult toy shop and peruse the possibilities. After a careful review, I decide on one that is a total of 11 inches, dark brown in complexion, very realistic, and best of all, has a ring to wrap around my balls to anchor the sleeve in place.
Back at home I find that Lo has invited a few people over for a little get-together. Unaware that we were expecting company, I have to find a way of sneaking the rather large box in the house inconspicuously. I decide to pop my head in, say hello to the guests, and declare that we need some more beer. I run out to the local store and pick up a six-pack. I throw the toy in the plain brown bag and rush in, crossing my fingers that no one stops me on the way.
They are all in the living room and I call out, “I’m back! I’ll just pop these in the fridge and be right there.” I head to the bedroom first, hide my stash under the bed, and then put the beer in the fridge, removing one for myself first.
Walking in on our little circle of friends, I take a look at Lo and see that she has put on a stunning little number. Her heels, her short-shorts, and her black tank-top with her one-size-too-small push-up bra under it, giving her quite the shelf popping out of the top. What’s the reason for this, I wonder.
I give her a kiss hello and tell her I’m famished, looking at her quizzically.
Lola complains that the meal she prepared didn’t come out the way that she was hoping.
I say, “You know, I don’t think love is blind so much as love is deaf.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
“You could go on complaining like that all night, but because you look so good, I don’t hear a thing.”
I get a little laugh from everyone there and then the ‘guests of honor’ arrive. Two young men from across the street who had moved in recently were invited by Lo. Brothers. Built. Did I mention young?
“HH, you remember Roy and Gary,” she says, that look of desire in her eye, her tongue running over her lips as she introduces us. “I just thought,” she says innocently, “since we were having people over, I’d invite them as well.”
“Very neighborly of you,” I say.
The rest of the night goes on with Lo dancing that fine line between being a charming hostess and a wicked vixen.
Finally, past eleven, all our guests leave, including the brothers from across the street.
Lo goes into the bedroom and when I emerge out of the bathroom, cock sleeve firmly in place, Lo nearly jumps in fear and fawning over the giant extension between my legs.
“What the hell is that?!” she cries out.
“Just something special I bought for you today.”
“What? Why? Today?”
“Yes. Because you were so enamored of your fan who sent you that pic that was longer than your forearm.”
“But Daddio, you know I love you,” she says, reaching out to grab the long appendage and feel its heft and girth.
“Yes, but you long for bigger, longer, thicker, and bigger.”
“You mentioned bigger twice.”
“I like how indignant you are.”
“Indignity is my forte.”
“No, lack of dignity is your forte.”
“Daddy, I have loads of dignity. I just prefer to be degraded in the bedroom.”
“Well, do what you do best and get on the bed, spread your legs, make yourself good and wet, and let me pound you with this monster cock.”
“I thought you’d never ask. Oh, and by the way, I’m already super wet. I have been all night.”
“The brothers?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
I do as she wishes and I have to admit that it was a little difficult to fit the bulbous bad-boy in, but once in, Lo takes all of it with grace and gratitude.
“Can I use my Hitachi?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say, since with this sleeve it’s easy for me to lean back and give her enough room to fit her Hitachi over her clit. With the sleeve on, there is significantly less sensation and I welcome the vibrations of the Magic Wand.
Within mere moments Lo is saying, “Pull out! PULL OUT! I have to squirt!”
I do as she says and an impatient stream of spray shoots out on me.
“Holy shit!” she says, as if she had never cum like that before. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe every time it feels like the first. But just as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she rolls over and says, “Take that silly thing off now and fuck me rawdog!”
I obey and begin from behind her and say, “Lo, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t even feel you. That sleeve spread you so wide.”
“Don’t you take this the wrong way,” she says over her shoulder, “but I can hardly feel you. Now fuck me like you mean it.”
I do as she commands and as I pound her from behind, all the wetness covering her ass splish-splashes with each thrust and it makes a slick slapping sound.
I continue harder and faster, hoping to register something within her, and after much striving I finally succeed. I hit my target and she cums even harder than she did the first time.
But then something I’ve never seen before happens. She literally passes out mid-orgasm. She faints from fucking. She swoons from sex. She is out cold for about three or four minutes. When she comes to, she just asks to hold me.
“What happened Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “One minute you were cumming, the next you were out cold. How much did you have to drink tonight?”
“One glass of champagne.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I swear.”
“Have you ever fainted from fucking before?”
“No Daddy. Never.”
“How do you feel?”
“Great.”
“Did you cum in me Daddy?”
“No, Lo. I didn’t cum at all.”
“Are you sure?” she asks feeling between her legs.
“Yes Lo. That’s all from you.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were wonderful.”
“But I passed out – literally on you.”
“It’s ok. I took it as a compliment.”
“You would. You have such a big ego.”
“If you’re talking about this,” I say, holding the sheath, “then you’re right. It is big. I had a big ego before, and now it’s even bigger.”
“Daddy, a man’s ego is not his cock size.”
“No. I agree. But the bigger his cock size, the bigger his ego.”
“Well, you’d better watch out. You know what they say?”
“No, what’s that?”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
“Oh? Is that how it goes? I thought it was, the harder they cum the harder they pass out.”
It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s February and we’re on vacation – an escape from the winter wonderland of our northern home. Lying out by the pool, I admire the scenery, much to Lo’s consternation.
There’s a DJ who’s also doubling as the MC for the spring-break crowd. He has the limbo bar set up and is spinning “Limbo Rock” as the scantily-clad bikini babes and the sculpted bros do their annual mating dance under it.
Every limbo boy and girl
All around the limbo world
Gonna do the limbo rock
All around the limbo clock
“Enjoying the Bimbo Rock?” Lo asks me, her voice dripping with derision. She glances at me as she asks, but I see her taking in the eye-candy as well.
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
All around the limbo clock
Hey, let’s do the limbo rock
Limbo lower now
Limbo lower now
How low can you go?
“They’re playing your song,” I say to her. “They’re calling your name, ‘Hey Lo – how low can you go?”
First you spread your limbo feet
Then you move to limbo beat
Limbo ankolimboneee
Bend back like a limbo tree
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
“I’ll tell you what,” she says to me, looking over the rim of her dark sunglasses, “I’ll spread my limbo legs and you give me your limbo stick, and I’ll show you just how low Lo can go.” As she says it, she spreads her legs wide on the reclining chair.
“That’s sounds great,” I reply, “but first, let’s just see who wins, ok?”
“Grrrrrrr,” she says in frustration at my intentional taunt. “Get me a beer, Daddio,” she commands.
“Sure, do you want it in a glass?”
“Yes, please. But pour it right! I don’t want any head.” She paused. “I’ll be giving head later. . . in bed. That’s the only head I want.”
“I can’t wait,” I reply.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she barbs back, “I’ve got my eye on a few likely candidates.”
Later, up in the hotel room, she asks me, “Did you have fun at the pool, dear?”
“Yes – I particularly enjoyed making you jealous.”
“Well, you do a good job of it.”
“It’s not hard at all.”
“It looked pretty hard to me.”
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say.
“Fine,” she says, turning up her nose at me since she apparently took my choice of shower as a snub of her. But there she’s wrong. I just like to be clean and fresh for her.
“You know Lo,” I say before going into the bathroom, “I only have eyes for you.”
Lo ignores this and simply looks at her phone. “Oh, look at that,” she says to me, “A friend of mine just posted that he thinks that his girlfriend looks like Beyoncé.”
“So what? He’s in love?”
“Aren’t you in love? You say I remind you of Lucille Ball!”
“Don’t forget Bugs Bunny!”
“Bugs Bunny?! Really?! Why not at least Jessica Rabbit?”
“You talk like Jessica Rabbit, but you act like Bugs Bunny.”
“Great. That’s love.”
I hop in the shower. When I come out, I find Lo on the bed, naked, her legs spread, one hand holding her phone and one stroking her puss.
“Tell me what you want,” she says to me without even looking at me.
“No, you tell me what you want,” I respond.
This is a familiar game of ours, especially when she’s both mad at me and horny.
“Do you want me?” she asks, seductively.
“Do you want me?” I echo.
“Say it,” she demands.
“No, you,” I say, not willing to give in first.
“Tell me what you want,” she pleads, still stroking herself and pulling at her pussy lips.
“Not till you do first,” I protest.
“I want you to tell me you want me,” she says.
“There you go! You said it!” I declare, victorious.
“Said what?”
“You said, ‘I want you.’”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“You know, Lo, I love you too much.”
“Why do you say you love me too much?”
“Because I let you off too easily and you get off too easily,” I say as I slowly slide inside her. She’s dripping wet and very loose. She moans as I slip in. Her phone is still in her left hand and she looks at it as I hold her naked body tightly. Her right hand is still over her clit and she rubs it as I thrust.
“Stay deep. Just stay deep,” she orders.
I obey. Her hips slightly gyrate up and down as her fingers quickly pulse on her clit. She cums within seconds. Her thighs clench so tightly she squeezes me out unintentionally.
“Sorry,” she manages to whisper as she climaxes.
“You just used me to get off.” I protest. “You just masturbated with me inside you. I was completely incidental to your orgasm.”
“No, Daddio, you were instrumental to it. Now flip me over and do me from behind.”
I obey. Her phone is still in her hand in front of her now so that I can see what she’s looking at. It’s a lesbian Tumblr page.
“Do you like them?” she asks me about the women I see on her phone over her shoulder.
“It’s like a sea of porn,” I say.
She immediately shuts off her phone. “Not for you!” she says.
“Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink,” I say.
“You can have your fill of this all you want. It’s plenty wet,” she says as her free hand now slaps her ass and then fingers her puss from behind. Her other hand is still busy between her legs from the front.
Without warning, I cum and cum a lot, deep inside her. Her pussy clenches on me, hungrily. But when I’m done, she flips over and complains, “You didn’t wait for me!”
“What?” I ask, perplexed.
“Ladies first,” she reminds me.
“You did cum first.”
“Ladies first and second!”
I go to the bathroom to clean up. When I return, I find Lo looking at the porn on her phone again, jilling to it. I begin to object to this, but she holds up a finger to indicate that I should wait till she finishes. I am polite and wait. She looks up at me with a smile. “Cum often, cum a lot.”
“The Lola Down motto.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” she says.
“I thought the saying was ‘Cum early, cum often.’”
“That too. As well as, ‘Cum one, cum all.’”
“I thought that was the motto of all your blog fans.”
“Really? You think so?” I ask, even more facetiously. “If you haven’t noticed by now – NEWSFLASH! – you are my fetish.”
“Good grief! Freud would have a field day with you.”
“Lo, you’re all the porn I need.”
“All I’ve ever wanted to be was a good amateur.”
I lie down next to her. “You’re the best,” I say as I immediately begin to fall asleep. She complains that I’m uncomfortable to sleep on. “Your big barrel-chested torso is impossible to lie on.”
“It’s a big bed in a big room in a big hotel in a big city. . .”
“With a big jerk right in the middle of it!”
As I fall asleep, I can hear and feel her going at it again for that magic number three.
Lying in bed at night, I’m sitting up reading a book. She’s on her back, playing with her tits – pushing them up, pulling on the nipples, looking down at them. She says, “Do you think my breasts are pretty?”
I look over at her. “Yes. Very much.” I go back to reading.
She continues contorting her boobs. “No, I mean, do you think they’re attractive?”
“Of course I do, Lo,” I say, without losing my spot on the page.
“Do you think people find them attractive?”
“What people?”
“People?”
“Like who? The people who fuck you? The people who look at you on the internet? People you meet in the street? What people are we talking about?”
“Yeah, all those people.”
“Well, Lo, judging from the number of men and women who write to you every day and send in dick picks and photos of themselves jackin’ and jillin’ to your lovely images, I think the answer has to be ‘Yes.’ Anymore questions?”
I looked back down at her – she was jillin’ it to the thought of all those people cumming to her. Not satisfied with the thought, she rolled over on her tum, pulled out her phone, and began flipping through the scores of photos sent to her by her fans until she hit on one that did the trick. She came.
“Daddy?”
“Yes Lo?”
“Don’t you want to get behind me while I do this?”
“Didn’t you already do it?”
“Don’t you want to get behind me while I do this again?”
I put down my book, got up and out of my pj bottoms, and mounted her round ass as she, on her hands and knees, looked through the fan photos again. I thought to myself, “This could go on all night.”
Her tits were hanging down, rocking forward and back with each thrust. She held herself up with her left hand as she held her right hand, palm open just below her nipples so that they’d graze against her palm as they went back and forth. She liked feeling the fullness of her breasts as they hung there. “Do you think they are saggy?” she asked me over her shoulder as she scrolled through some more pics.
“What?” I asked.
“My tits – do you think they’re sagging?”
“No, Lo. You’re on all fours, like a bitch in heat, and gravity will do its thing, you know.”
She flipped through the photos on her phone and she said, “Look, this couple here – she has very big, very saggy tits.”
Glancing over her shoulder, I could just make out what it was I saw. Luckily, I still had my reading glasses on. “They’re in their forties or fifties Lo. You’re in your twenties.”
I kept going at her as her fingers kept working their magic between her legs. “Do you think they’re attractive?” she asked.
“Who? The couple?”
“No, her tits?”
“Yes, Lo, they’re attractive,” I said.
“Saggy tits can be attractive, right?”
I gave up on answering and focused on hitting hard at the target. Apparently that took Lo’s mind off of her tits for a while because she found a photo that she stared at intently and she began convulsing on my cock, cumming hard.
When she was done, she pulled off of me and rolled on her back, phone still in hand, looking at the photos submitted by fans to her. I asked her, “Lo, what do they all do for you?”
“It’s not what they do for me that turns me on, it’s what I do for them.”
[All photos were submitted to loladown.tumblr.com]
