Asses Up

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Dutiful Niece.”  We apologize for any delay and concern that the delay may have caused. Working on being more consistent content creators.]

“I don’t think this is a story I can tell,” I said to Lo as we were driving back home from the bizarre weekend in the mountains with Lily, Jim, Lily’s Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne.

“It sure did get weird fast,” she remarked, looking with a vacant stare out the window as the scenery streaked by.

“The whole thing was weird,” I remarked.

“That’s true,” she said, “but it got even more so once you got there.”

A little background may be in order here, dear reader.  Lily and Jim are our very good friends from home.  They’re married.  Lily is Lo’s age and of her same temperament.  Jim is slightly older, with a few hang-ups.  Lily’s Uncle Collin had invited the four of us up to his lake house in the mountains for a week but, due to our work schedules, only Lily and Lo could join him for the first five days.  During that time, Collin hit hard on Lo and Lo lapped it up, returning his advances with explicit flirtations.  Lily, during this whole extramarital exchange, reassured Lo that Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne “had an understanding” and that it was fine.

Because Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne have separate bedrooms and the former sleeps alone and the latter with her two dogs, the night before Jim and I were to arrive, Lo finally “slept” with Uncle Collin.  But it literally was just sleeping together because, as she found out that night, Uncle Collin, virile as he is, he is also impotent and suffers from E.D. due to an accident that injured his spine two decades ago.

The next morning, when Lo confronted Lily about this, it was revealed that Lily was a coconspirator with Uncle Collin to help him gave the female companionship he so long to enjoy with Lo.  But, not only that, it turned out that Lo was only the latest in a long string of sexy young friends whom Lily had enticed to spend “quality time” with Uncle Collin.

Saturday morning, Jim and I were headed straight for the eye of this swirling sordid affair.

Just to add even more spice to the already simmering pot, he and I were hard-up from a long five days apart from our respective hotwives and I had just come off of a terrible week, losing my big case that Friday.

I was so wrapped up in my own need to reconnect with Lo and my own dark and stormy cloud from the past week, that I hadn’t even put thought to how horny Lo would be, or Lily for that matter.  The last I had heard, Lo, Lily, and Collin had gone to a resort on Thursday and so I had no idea that Lo wasn’t getting her fill of good fucks by Uncle Collin there.  But I had heard from my reliable informant about Lily’s big reveal that she adheres to the ‘A.O.L.’  (Anal Only Lifestyle.)  A fascinating little tidbit of knowledge that had piqued my curiosity.

After we stopped for coffee and a quick breakfast sandwich at a highway rest stop, we were on the road for a good couple of hours.  Once we were a good distance outside the city, as the sun was burning off the morning mist, we saw some horses over in the field on the side of the road.

“You remember last time we all saw Uncle Collin?” asked Jim, slightly bemused by the horses.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Remember what we did?”

“You mean the candle lit therapy session?”

“No,” he said, snapping out of it.  “I mean the breeding farm he took us to.”

“Oh yeah, for his ‘prized stallion,’” I said, a little snarky.

“Yeah,” said Jim.  “Lo was really fascinated by that,” he remarked.  Clearly the experience had stuck with him.

“She’s a size queen,” I blurted out as a half joke, but immediately regretted it when I recalled Jim’s own diminutive size.

He turned to look at me with a quizzical expression.  “Then why does she like me?” he asked, genuinely.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she both pities him and also loves to tease, so I said simply, “She thinks you’re cute.”

He let it drop and resumed his original line of questioning.  “So being a ‘size queen’ extends to other species?” he asked, getting to the point.

“To be honest, I think she’s just mesmerized by cock.  All cock.  She enjoys the power she exerts over it.  The power to make it hard, to make it cum, to put someone under her power of seduction.  It’s a power trip to her.  And part of that power trip is also the power that she feels by knowing she can take something so incredibly large.  Call it ‘the power of the puss’ if you want,” I said, laughing to myself about the turn of phrase.

All Cocks

“Has she ever. . .” began Jim, not able to even ask the question.

“Is this our turnoff?” I asked, evading his question.

He looked at his phone to check the map and he said, “The girls are asking if we will be eating breakfast with them.”

“When will we get there?”

“E.T.A. is about 11:00,” he said.

“Let’s plan on lunch.”

“Turn here,” he said.

As I got in the right lane, I saw the sign that read, “EXIT ONLY.”  It made me think of a woman I once knew who was adamantly anti-anal sex and remarked to me, “That is an exit only orifice.”  I chuckled to myself and thought of what a dirty old man I am and how Lily’s “Anal Only Lifestyle” is not a turnoff, but a real turn-on for me.

“Did our session by candlelight help you and Lily?” I asked, venturing into a topic he hadn’t revisited with me since that fateful night.  I suspect he had “confessor’s remorse” after admitting that he didn’t know how to fully please her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you two talk about bringing a bull into the relationship or a little BDSM?”

“It’s more complicated than that.  She’s different than you think.”

“How so?”

“I mean, you know that, like you two, we’re in an open relationship.”

“Yeah.”

“But, unlike Lo she. . . .”  He trailed off.

“Jim we’ve known each other a long time.  You’ve been with Lo.  Lily has been forthright and open with us.  There’s nothing you should feel inhibited from telling me.  I hate to pull this card, but I’m older.  Maybe I have some sage advice.”

“Lily has a Catholic girl hang-up about sex,” he finally blurted out.

“What?!  Other than Lo, she’s one of the most openminded people I know.”

“It’s true.  She’s never had sex.  We’ve never had sex, properly.”

“OK, now I know you’re putting me on.”

“I wish it was a joke, but it’s not.  She grew up being told that sex is wrong, sex is bad, and girls who engage in sex are doomed to Hell.”

“But they only say that about fornication – sex outside of the marriage.”

“Well, that’s how she got started before marriage and, I guess, she still likes it that way.”

“How do you feel about that?” I ventured to ask, fully aware that I was treading over delicate, as if hiking along a cliff that could fall through at any moment.

It was as if a switch went off in his mind.  This normally mild-mannered, easy-going guy became enraged.  “I fucking hate it!” he blurted out.  “It’s so fucking dumb.  We’ve been married almost a year now and every fucking time I want to fuck her, she flips over on her belly and sticks her ass in the air, spreads her ass cheeks and says, ‘I’m ready for you now.’  What the fuck?!  Why can’t we just have real, loving intercourse?”  He punched the glove compartment.

“Hey, take it easy,” I said, concerned about the damage he was doing to my car and that he’d set off the airbag.

“Sorry, but this has been frustrating me since. . . well, since forever.”

“Have you talked with her about it?”

“Of course I have.”

I felt stupid even asking him, since he was so abrupt with his reply.

“I’m sorry, H, but. . .”

“I understand, Jim.  You and I, we’re both frustrated.  We haven’t seen Lo or Lily in five days and. . .”

“Yeah, how are you doing with that?” he interrupted to ask.

“With what?”

“With her being around Uncle Collin?”

“Whatever,” I said, dismissively and disingenuously since that thought had been consuming me for days now.

“I forgot, you don’t get jealous about her fucking other guys,” he said, as if bating me.

“As long as she’s honest about it,” I said, continuing to dissemble.

Soon we were pulling down a long dirt road leading to the cottage.

“I’ll text Lily that we’ll be there in a minute.”

“OK,” I said, feeling tense with no appetite other than for Lo.

We pulled up to the circular driveway in front of the picturesque villa.  I parked the car and Jim, who had been there before, let me around back to the deck where the girls and Collin and Suzanne, as well as the two dogs, were relaxing.

Lo and Lily were both naked as they day they were born.  They got up, their tits swinging and jiggling, their asses looking sweetly tanned, their unabashed display of their bodies admirable.  I saw how Collin watched Lo and his niece greet us as we appeared on the deck.  His eyes carefully watched ever move, every gesture, every subtle sign, deciphering its meaning and adducing the nature of the relationship.  He was a limp snake in the grass.  But, mind you, at that point, I still was in the dark as to what had transpired between him and Lo.

I wanted nothing more at that moment than to sweep Lo off of her bare feet and bring her to the bedroom (or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or really anywhere, even right there!) and discover all her stories while plumbing her depths with my philosophically penetrating apparatus.

Pink Grapefruit

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Sun Shower“]

It was Friday.  Though I couldn’t wait to be reunited with my little nymphet, Jim and I wouldn’t be getting on the road until early the next morning.  Soon Lola, Lily, and Collin were in the Jeep on their way back to the cottage.  They got back just in time for dinner with Suzanne.  After dinner and some drinks, Lily said to Lo, “I’m feeling tired.  I’m going to bed, but why don’t you join Collin on the deck?”

Suzanne, apparently, had already gone to bed.  Always the accommodating guest, Lola took her friend’s suggestion and found Collin sipping his whiskey as he sat in a double-wide swing outside, overlooking the lake.

Lo joined him on the swing and they made some small talk before he invited her to join him in the bedroom.

“What about Suzanne?” asked Lo.

“We sleep in separate bedrooms,” said Collin.  “She sleeps with Shadow and Bandit,” he said, referring to the dogs.  “It’s been this way for a while.”

Lo followed him through the quiet house to the master bedroom.  It was enormous.  The square footage of that room alone was probably bigger than our living room and kitchen together.  It had a master bath attached in an open plan layout.  Lo said she’d like to wash up before bed.  She dropped her denim shorts, removed her cutoff top and turned on the shower.  She stepped in as Collin watched her.  There was no door on the slate tiled shower.  The water just poured down from a waterfall fountain near the high ceiling.  Lo washed up and then dried off with one of the plush terrycloth towels.

She walked over to the bed where Collin was lying in just his flannel pajama bottoms.  She must have missed the brief moment when he changed.  Sitting on the bed near him, she removed the towel and passed him a bottle of lotion she had found by the sink.

“Moisturize me,” she said.

She was lying on her tum and he began with her shoulders.  His large, strong hands gently rubbed the scented cream into her skin.  She let out a moan.  “That feels soooo good.”

Collin continued down her back and pushed up from her hips toward her shoulders in long, slow strokes.

Finally he worked his way around her bum, grabbing with his fingers and thumbs and spreading her ass cheeks apart so he could get a good look at her special spot in a slight variation from his performance the day before.

“Clean as a whistle,” he remarked, taking note of one of Lo’s most remarkable features.

“I used the pink grapefruit bodywash in the shower.”

Gettin’ a Dirty Girl Clean

“Looks it,” he said.

“Does it taste like grapefruit?” she asked.

He continued his exploration of her anatomy with his palms sliding down her thighs to her calves.  He simply ignored her question.

His hands massaged around her ankles and then her feet.  His thumbs pressed into the arch of her feet and he rubbed in sensual circles, bringing her close to climax.

Pink Grapefruit

Before she had another accident, she turned over and looked at Collin.

“Why don’t you get out of those pjs?” she asked, straining to see if he was hard.

To her great surprise, he agreed and soon he was as naked as she.  But to her greater surprise, he was as flaccid as a well-cooked strand of spaghetti, though almost as long.

“Lo,” he said in a quiet tone, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

Lo’s eyes widened.

“About twenty years ago I was badly injured in a horse riding accident.”

“Oh no,” said Lo, even before hearing the details.  She gave him space to explain.

“I was riding one of my prized stallions and I thought I had trained him a lot better than I did.  He saw a shadow or a branch or something.  Maybe he thought it was a snake.  Maybe it was a snake.  I don’t know.  It was a long time ago and it happened fast.  He reared up and threw me off.”

Lo covered her mouth as she gasped.

“The fall wasn’t that bad, but then he bucked and his rear hoof went right into my back.  I had a serious injury to my thoracic spinal nerve 11, or T-11.  For a long time I was in a wheelchair, which is why this room is on the first floor and is designed to be completely wheelchair accessible.  I had a number of surgeries and eventually, after a lot of physical therapy, I was able to walk again.  But, unfortunately,” he looked down, “I never recovered to full functioning.”

Lo looked at Collin’s lengthy, beautiful cock, longingly.

“Nothing?” she asked a little tactlessly.

“Nothing.  Suzanne and I tried everything.  For years.  Surgeries, pills, pump.  Nothing could get me hard or keep me hard.”

“No orgasm, I guess,” she asked, unable to conceal a tone of disappointment from her voice.

“Not in over twenty years.”

“Desire?”

“So much desire,” he said.

“What can I do for you?” asked Lo, always eager to please.

“Lo, your visit has been a godsend.”

“So you don’t want to finger me or have me suck you off or anything?”

“I actually just enjoy talking to you.”

“Naked?”

“Well, that makes it more interesting.”

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” he asked and then understood.  “Oh, give it the ole college try?”

Lo nodded.

“See for yourself.”

Lo wasted no time.  She got between his legs with her face and finally gave free reign to her pent-up desire.  She licked, lapped, sucked, slurped, teased, touched, kissed, caressed, pressed, pulled, stroked, sloughed, and finally ceased, all to no avail.  Not that it wasn’t fun for her, but it did not bring about her hoped for result.

Spent, she lay back and stroked herself, but, without instilling a similar arousal in her host, she quickly became bored of it.

“You’re a remarkable woman,” said Collin.

His words fell on deaf ears.  Lo couldn’t help but feel let down by her mere humanity.  She had hoped to perform a miracle.  To raise Lazarus, to bring forth a baguette from a lump of dough, to at least fulfill some longed for fantasy.

In the end the two of them just sat together on the bed and they traded fabulous story for more outrageous tale.

A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition

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

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

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

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

Fan, getting off to Lo at work

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

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

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

Fan, getting off to Lo

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

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

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

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

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

Lola Down, 21st Century Lolita

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

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

Nymphomaniac: Volume I is “sex addiction accurate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s not the whole story.

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

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

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

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

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

email downloladown@gmail.com for more info

Impressive Size

[Prequel to Breeding Farm]

“It’s so big!” gasped Lo.  “It’s beautiful.  Stunning.  I just can’t believe it.”  She truly was impressed.  We had just pulled up in the driveway of Lily’s uncle’s mountain resort home.  Her uncle was traveling around Europe and, since Lily was one of his favorites, he gave her permission to use it and to host friends.  We happened to be the friends that she and Jim chose to invite up for a long weekend.

The air was crisp and the sky was clear and blue and radiant.  All the trees on the mountain were in their peak of autumn perfection.  We had the whole secluded house to ourselves.

Lily showed us around the grounds and gave us a tour of the home.  Then she showed us to our quarters.  The bed was enormous!  The bathroom and bathtub were almost as big!!!  This would be fun.  Lo and I looked at each other knowingly, expectantly.

Since it took us quite a while to get up there, winding through the dangerous mountain switchbacks, we made some dinner and then had some drinks.  We were all tired from the trip and Lo and I were eager to get to bed and get to each other.

Lo All Wet

She got naked and hopped into the clear glass encased shower as I drew a bath in the tub.  From inside her little chamber, she pressed her tits up against the glass and then turned and pressed her ass up against it as she used the hand-held showerhead to massage between her legs.

She came a couple of times, struggling to keep her screams to herself.  Then she emerged from the shower and slid her sexy self down upon my hard cock as I lay half-submerged in the water of the claw-foot white porcelain tub.

We had to be careful because we didn’t want to make too much noise or too much mess.  When she had finished cumming in reverse cowboy position, she turned and descended on my spear once more, this time facing me.  Grabbing her tits and pulling her nipples, she asked me, “Shall I be a good girl this weekend, Daddy, or a bad girl?”

“You’re already a bad girl,” I said, “so, you might as well not deny your nature.”

She came again and then urged me to get up and out and dry off so we could enjoy one another in the plush bed.  Bent over the side; face down in the down pillows; on her knees straddling me – we explored many positions, before she finally opted for being bent over a chair and seeing herself in the full-length mirror as I made her tits swing with my thrusts from behind her.

Just as we were both approaching the pinnacle of success in this position, she commanded, “Stop!”  She wasn’t kidding.  I did as she bade me.  “Get a towel and put it on the floor.”

I followed her command.  The towels were thick and heavy and the floor was wall-to-wall carpet.

“Get behind me and keep going, only harder.”

I again followed her command and within moments her clenching climax had pushed my member right out and she was squirting what seemed to be gallons on the towel beneath her.

She collapsed and said, breathlessly, “I knew that was going to happen.”

The next morning, after I had made everyone breakfast, we headed out on a hike.  I happily pulled up the rear, right behind Lo, whose behind, in her black athletic tights, was the best inspiration for me to keep going.

Lo – Tight

It was an exhilarating trek through the crisp air of the mountain tops.  The sights and the thrills were worth the exertion.

When we got back to the house, we were famished and we heated up a big pot of chili we had prepared before the trip.

We then settled into our vacation home and after a few glasses of wine, Jim suggested a game of cards.  We decided on poker and I raised the stakes by suggesting strip poker.  Lo kicked me under the table.  I didn’t know why at the moment.

Our friends were game and we got to playing.  Little did everyone (except Lo) know, but I’m a terrible poker player.  I can never keep straight which is the better hand.  Lo took pity on me and helped me all she could, to her own detriment.  She did her level best of spying on my cards to help me, to discard her good hand, to lift me up by lowering herself.  Doing that was tougher than actually winning!  But before too long, she was shirtless, sockless, and then pantless.  Not to be outdone by her rival, Lily went garment-for-garment with Lo.  After only a couple of rounds they were both braless.  It came down to a question of who was going to lose her panties first: Lo or Lilly?  You guessed it!  Lo was out and in her birthday suit.  She seemed more than happy to be the loser of the game.

During the hour or so that it took for Lo to win or lose, depending on how you’re scoring this, we had finished a bottle of wine and Jim and I had broke the seal on our special bottle of Scotch.

Eager to keep playing, Lo suggested that since she had no more clothes to offer, we play for certain “favors.”  These new rules started out tame enough.  First Lo had to bend over to pick up a napkin.  Then she had to get up and walk around the table to refresh my glass and Jim’s glass, with a little curtsy of course.  She had to remove Lily’s panties when Lilly lost.  But soon we moved on to having Lo’s writs be tied up around one of the support beams in the room as she bent over.  We found a riding crop that Lily’s uncle used as a decorative prop, and we used it, each taking turns swatting Lo’s ass and occasionally her pussy from behind.  Lily was the cruelest with the crop.  But then we gave Lo some aftercare.  Each of us got a turn fingering her from behind.  She came almost immediately for each of us.  After Lily’s turn (she went last), Lo pressed her legs together and commanded me to grab a towel, as she had the previous night.  When I had spread it at her feet, she spread her legs and looked as if she was putting out a fire from between her thighs!

“Holy shit!” cried Lily.  “I’ve never seen that actually happen in real life!!!”  She seemed thrilled.

Lo slowly slunk to the floor, exhausted.  She looked up, a smile on her face, a bit proud, her legs spread in a ‘V’ shape, and a puddle underneath her.  “Really?” she asked.

“It happens all the time to Lo,” I chimed in.

“I’ve read about it, I’ve seen it in videos, but never actually saw a woman squirt.  How do you do it?”

“I don’t do it.  It just happens.  Talent, I guess.”

Lily untied Lo’s wrists and helped her up.

“Do you think you could show Lily how to do that?” asked Jim, turning the tables on his bride, since she had been eager to have Lo teach Jim how to pleasure a woman despite his diminutive size.

“I know a lot of people claim to be able to teach it,” said Lo, “and there are a lot of websites out there dedicated to how to make a woman squirt, but I don’t know.  I only know that it works for me when I’m super aroused.”

“It’s more of a problem than a talent,” I said.

Lo frowned at me.  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Come on, Lo,” I said, “you know that you sometimes accidentally squirt at very inconvenient times.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

“And the number of sheets we have to go through. . .”

“Yeah, it makes for a lot of laundry.”

“And how you shoot me right out of you mid-coitus.”

“That’s true too,” she admitted.

“I don’t need to squirt,” interrupted Lily, “I just would like to cum when having sex.”  She blurted it out and I could see that Jim’s request of Lo and Lo’s performance clearly were making her feel inadequate and so she turned the tables right back on Jim.

“Look,” said Lo, always the peace maker, “I have an idea to help everyone.  I’ve done this before, or a variation of this.  I’m already naked.  Why don’t we all get naked, light a candle, sit in a circle, and speak openly, honestly, candidly about sex, love, and relationships.  As long as the light of the candle is illuminating our circle, there is no judgment, no accusation, no falsity.  We will be vulnerable and compassionate with each other.  Our nudity is only an outward symbol of our inward vulnerability.”

Lily looked at Jim and he nodded his head that he was willing to give it a go.

We all got naked and for the first time I got a view of the little that Lilly had to work with.  Jim’s physique is fit, trim, and small.  Attractive, but tiny.  I’m not hung like a horse (horse cock being something Lo dearly likes), but compared to Jim I was.  I had to remind myself, by the candlelight, there is no judgment.  Right.

We all sat down in a circle with the candle at the center.  Jim and I were cross-legged and both Lola and Lily, being more flexible, sat full lotus position.

Lola started us off, “Sex is good, but sex without meaning, without connection, without intimacy can be empty and leave you cold.”

As Lo said these words, I couldn’t help but think of all the times she fucked guys, strangers, in the back seat of the car as I drove, or at the beach as men came all over her body, or. . . .  Wait, I reminded myself again, no judgment.  Got it.

“Yeah,” said Lily, picking up the thread of the conversation, “that’s true, but sometimes, while having that meaningful connection, I just want to get rammed home with a long, hard cock.  I want to submit to a domineering, rough, take-command partner.  That can be both hot and intimate.”

“Jim?” asked Lo.

“I know she likes that, but it’s just not me.  I’m kind, gentle by nature.  I love her.  I don’t want to. . .” he trailed off, not even able to articulate the deeds she wanted done to her.

“That’s totally understandable,” said Lo, “but there is a major gap between her desire and yours, or her idea of intimate intercourse and yours.”

“It’s clear you love each other,” I said, “but do you trust each other?”

“Completely,” said Lily right away.

Jim just nodded.

“If you trust each other,” I followed up my thought, “then maybe an open relationship.  Having a bull who will come over and do for Lily all the things she wants and needs could expand your relationship pallet.”

“A bull?” asked Jim naively.

“A man who fucks married women,” explained Lily.  She obviously had explored this herself.

“H.H. does that with me,” said Lo, “and he loves it.”

“I like to see her satisfied,” I said.  “If she likes to be fucked by another guy, then why should I stand in her way?”

“Come on,” said Lo, to me as if calling bullshit.  “You are not simply standing to the side while another guy fucks my brains out.  You love it.  You love to see it and to guide him through it and to hear all about it if you can’t be there in person.”

“She’s right,” I confessed.  “Honesty.”

Jim, who was very visibly uncomfortable by everything he was hearing, said, “I just don’t think I can do that.  I mean, we’ve given an open relationship a chance and it drove me crazy.  I almost called off the wedding because I was so enraged and jealous.”

“Jealously is a symptom, not a cause,” said Lo.

“A symptom of what?”

“Of so many things – a feeling of inadequacy, a fear of being left, anger with a previous girlfriend who hurt you.  I mean, it could stem from any number of deep-seated insecurities.  But mainly it’s a form of fear.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real.  Understanding it doesn’t remove it,” said Jim.

“No, you’re right.  I’m just pointing out that what you’re feeling doesn’t stem from what Lily is doing.  She loves you.  But she also has desires.  She wants to be with you.  But she also wants to have wild, earth-shattering orgasms.”

“And I want to be used, abused, humiliated, and tossed aside like a worthless fuckdoll” said Lily.

There was an awkward silence before Lo said, very reassuringly, “All healthy desires if channeled properly.”

I decided to be daring.  “Would you like me to demonstrate?” I asked, knowing full well that Lo’s jealousy would explode inside her heart like a hydrogen bomb.

“I’d love it,” said Lily looking at my limp cock.

Lo gave me a sidelong glance and said, “I don’t think right now is the time for that.  We’re making progress.”

“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t mean now.  I just meant. . .”  I was caught now, but it was worth it to get Lo’s ire up after that perfectly detached and clinical explanation of jealousy she just pronounced as if she were so far beyond and above it.  But I felt bad immediately after because it suddenly dawned on me that she might not have been talking from a superior position to jealousy, but from her intimate knowledge and understanding of it within her own heart.

As if to strike back at me, she then said, “Jim, I feel as if you’re bottling up your emotions and not letting them flow out.  What can I do to help you?”  As she said this, she caressed his knee with her left hand.  I saw his cock twitch at the unexpected touch.

“I just feel like I don’t know how to please her.”

Lo’s hand moved closer to his crotch.  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“I want to find a way that I can be everything she needs,” he said.

Lo’s hand got to his balls and began fondling them as his micropenis started to grow.

“We cannot be everything for our partners.  We have to be content with who and what we are for them and who and what they are for us.”  She began stroking his little cock with her thumb and index finger.  “Do you like that?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” he said, “it feels good.”

“Lie down,” said Lo.

He reclined on the carpet as Lo continued to jerk him off.  Her right hand was caressing his legs, spreading them apart.  Her left hand gently held his little member between her thumb and finger.

“You know, I wouldn’t even feel you if you were to penetrate me,” said Lo.

“I know,” said Jim as if in a hypnotic trance.

“But that wouldn’t matter to you, would it?” asked Lo.

“No,” said Jim, “I’d be really into it.”

“I know you would,” said Lo.

From where I was sitting, I could see Lily begin to stroke her pussy as she continued to sit in the lotus position.  She was enjoying this.

Lo lowered her mouth to Jim’s cock and tickled the tip with the tip of her tongue, clearly in order to let us see what she was doing.  Then she lifted up her mouth and said, “Don’t cum.”

“I’m trying not to cum, but it’s so hard.  It feels so good.”

“Stand up,” commanded Lo.

Jim stood up.

Lo pulled him forward and positioned him next to Lily as Lo, still on her knees, manipulated his tiny pud with her fingers.

“Close your eyes,” Lo said.

Jim closed his eyes.

Lo stroked faster and faster and lifted her mouth to his little balls to kiss and lick them.

“You may cum now,” she said, and no sooner did she say this than he came, right on Lily’s face.

“Open your eyes,” said Lo to Jim.

He followed her command and looked down at Lily who was covered in his ejaculate and smiling.

“There you go,” said Lo.  “Did you like that?”

Both of them said “Yes” at the same time.

By the way, I was hard as a rock at this point and I finally said, “Lo, any chance I will get to cum?”

“Oh, are you hard-up?” she said in a mocking manner.

“Yes.”

“Do you deserve to cum?” she asked with a look in her eye that told me I was being punished for my comment earlier.

“I sure do,” I said confidently.

She was feeling surly, but despite that, she indulged me and she told me to lie back.

I followed her instruction.  To my surprise, instead of doing to me what she had done to Jim, she sat on my face.  She was facing my toes and she invited Lily over as I began lapping Lo’s wet pussy lips like a thirsty dog.

Lily grabbed my cock and balls (I could tell it was Lily, though I couldn’t see her, because I know Lo’s touch) and began furtively fondling.  Then she began to jack me off.  I felt a mouth lower on my cock, but now I wasn’t too sure whose it was.  Lost in the mystery of it all, I gave in and came in heavy, forceful spurts.  Lo came as well, drenching my face.  I practically drowned.

When she got up and I sat up, Lily said, “You come almost as quickly as Jim does.”

“That’s not fair,” I said in my defense, “I’ve been watching Lo for over an hour now.  I was primed and ready.”

“Ready to be pumped dry,” said Lo.

“Well,” said Jim, “I think we all got something out of this.”

“Um,” said Lily, “of the four of us, three of us came.”

“Well Jim,” said Lo, “you got some work to do.”

Jim smiled and asked Lily, “Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

Lo looked at him, got up, exited the room into the mud room and returned with one of the dog leashes that was hanging there.  She put the collar around Lily’s neck and gave the handle to Jim.  “That’s not how you ask a slut like Lily.  Take her upstairs.”

Jim stood up and gently pulled on the leash.  Lily got on all fours and crawled like an obedient bitch at his side.  Off they went.

“Well done,” I said to Lo.

“Don’t give me that ‘well done’ bullshit.  You’re in big trouble mister.”

“Me?” I said innocently, “What did I do?”

“You know very well what you did.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.  I just want you to admit it.”

“OK, so maybe I tried to suggest that I do something with Lily.  But look at what you actually did with Jim.”

“There is no comparison.”

“How not?’

“Because I’m your slutty hotwife and you are my obedient, chaste, little stag.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

“No.  Actually I wouldn’t.  I was just teasing you to see if you would be jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.  I just want you to know your place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And where is my place?”

“Right between my legs.”

 

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I’m Your Bitch


            We were out on a double date with Mark and Stephanie.  Despite, or perhaps because of, Lo’s slutty ways, especially around Mark, they invited us out again after the beach experience.  They had hired a sitter for their kids and this time it was just the four of us at a local restaurant.  Because it was so crowded that Friday night, we took the first table we could get – a high-top in the bar area. 

            Lo was wearing her sexy little black skirt and heels with a neon blue blouse that had one too many buttons undone, revealing her cleavage and part of her lace bra.  She was sitting kitty-corner to Mark, and when she laughed, she would put her hand on his forearm, his knee, or touch his bicep.  She did this in a friendly, yet flirtatious way. 

            After the day at the beach with them, there was no way they would be surprised by this.  I was wondering to myself if they were actually interested in propositioning Lo, or both me and Lo, but were too inhibited to come out and say it. 

            If Lo was trying to get me jealous with her fawning over Mark, she was doing a good job of it.  Usually I’m not the jealous type – especially not with a hotwife like Lo.  But Mark was too perfect.  He was smart – a teacher in fact – and handsome, he worked out at the gym and was in tip-top shape, he had a perfect smile, and he was about four inches taller than I.  As if that wasn’t enough, Lo was perpetually reminding me of how large his cock is, as she ascertained through his pants and his bathing suit.  If he had any flaws that made his wife not want all that every night, I was unaware of them.  To make matters worse, Lo kept on inquiring of him about his personal habits.  “How do you stay so fit?  How do you keep in such great shape?” she asked, as she rubbed her hand down from his broad shoulder to his elbow. 

            He, for his part, was lapping it up.  He went on and on about his workout routine as Lo licked her lips just imagining it. 

            What Stephanie felt or thought during this, I don’t know, but in order to avoid any bad feelings, I inquired of Stephanie how her work was going and how the kids were doing.  It was boring polite dinner talk.  I really wanted to blurt out and ask her, “What do you think of my little slut making moves on your hunky husband?” 

            However, all this flirtatious frivolity came to a screeching halt when Julie approached our table.  Julie is a woman who moved to our neighborhood recently and has earned the ire of Lo.  She is just about Lo’s age with a teenage son, which means that she must have been pregnant when she was about 16.  She’s single and she gives Lo a run for her money.  She’s tall and has an All-American look about her that says she’s nothing but innocent sweets and smells of apple pie.  She uses this to her advantage in order to charm every guy she meets.  She hasn’t spoken more than the casual hello to Lo (or any other woman in the neighborhood), but will go out of her way to chat up any of the men on our block. 

How Lo Pictures Mark out to eat with Stephanie

            Julie happened into the restaurant alone, but I doubt she planned to leave it that way.  Seeing us – or rather, seeing me – she approached and gave me a warm hug hello with a kiss on the cheek.  To the other three, she merely waived and flashed her sparkling whites at them.  I felt Lo kick me hard in the shin under the table.  I was glad of it.  After all the torment she had given me thus far that evening, it was my chance to return the favor. 

            Though Julie was only going to say hi, I asked what brought her to that restaurant that night.  She said that her son was at a sleepover and that she just felt like getting out.  Much to Lo’s silent consternation, I insisted that Julie join us and get to know Mark and Stephanie.  At first Julie declined the invite, but I insisted. 

            “I couldn’t possibly.  There’s not enough room at this table,” she said.

            “Nonsense.  I’ll make room for you right here,” I said, sliding my stool over and grabbing another one for Julie so that she was very cozy between me and Mark. 

            Lo’s eyes were shooting ICBM warheads at me.  Ha!

            Despite Lo’s displeasure, the addition of Julie really helped the evening’s conversation.  The awkward pairing of Lo and Mark trading googly eyes at each other while Stephanie and I tried to pretend like nothing was happening was disrupted by Julie’s asymmetrical addition.  Now Lo was forced to pay attention to me at the expense of her romantic overtures to Mark.  I enjoyed that very much. 

            The night came to an early end for us because Lo insisted she had to get home “at a decent hour” in order to prepare for some fictitious event.  When I began to express perplexity at this excuse, I received another swift kick to my other shin.  I wasn’t sure how I’d walk home on those two injured legs of mine. 

            As soon as we were out of the restaurant, Lo stormed off at a brisk pace ahead of me. 

            “What?” I asked insincerely innocent.

            Silence.

            “Lo, come on.  Slow down and talk to me.  What’s the matter?”

            “You know very well what’s the matter,” she said from ten feet in front of me.

            “No I don’t.  What’s the matter?  Come on?  Please slow down.”

            She waited for me. 

            “Oh, Julie, there’s plenty of room for you.  You can come here and sit on my lap,” she said in a mocking manner. 

            “I did not say that.”

            “Whatever.”

            “Does it upset you?”

            We had just arrived at our apartment.  We got inside.  She went right to the bedroom and got naked.

            “Mmmmm, you look good,” I said.

            “This,” she said, sliding her hands over her sexy body, “is not for you.”

            “I suppose it’s for Mark,” I responded.

            “It’s for anyone except you,” she said curtly. 

            I got naked and into bed and she slid under the covers next to me and shut out the nightstand light. 

            From the darkness I heard, “Daddy, do you like her?”

            “Who?”

            “You know who.”

            “Julie?”

            “Yeah, Julie, that slut.”

            “Careful Lo, ‘slut’ is a compliment in your book.”

            “Only for me.  And you’re only for me.  You hear me?”

            “Yes, Lo, I hear you.”

            She reached down and grabbed my cock and began rubbing it.  “This is mine.  You got that?”

            “Yes Lo.”

            I was getting hard.  She dove under the covers and began sucking my cock.  When she reemerged, she asked, “Do you want me?”  

            “Yes,” I said.

            “Well get behind me and fuck me.”

            I did as she commanded.  She was wet and willing.  She came within seconds of penetration. 

            “Why do you want me?” she asked when she caught her breath.

            “Because Lo, I’m like a dog.  If you reach down between my hind quarters and fondle me and suck me till I’m hard, I’m going to want you.”

            That had her cumming again.

            “Either I get to have you,” I said, “or I’m going to be left painfully hard-up and full of liquid desire for you.”

            She loves the thought of me (or men) suffering physical anguish in the groin for her sweet release.  This made her climax a third time.

            “Cum in me.  Use me.  That’s what I’m here for.  You don’t need anyone else.  Just me and my cunt.  Fuck me, you horny dog.”

            I did as she commanded, filling her full of my froth. 

Filled, but not Finished

            She fell forward and I cuddled her.

            “Daddy, do you love me?”

            “So much,” I said.

            “Then why do you make me so jealous?”

            “Honestly Lo, it’s just to reassure me that I’m still your favorite.  I don’t mind sharing you, but I do really fear losing first place to someone else.”

            “Daddy, you’re silly.  You know that more than half the reason I flirt with other guys is because I want you to fuck me fiercely.  I want you to fight for me and subdue me with your cock.  Make me know that you’re my Daddy.” 

            Hearing her talk like that got me hard all over again and so I mounted her again and asked her what she was.

            “I’m your bitch.  I’m your horny, slutty, dirty bitch.”

The Porn Identity

“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.”

Truth Stick

It was Friday night and Lo and I were at a fundraising event at our city’s art museum.  It was a lovely affair and the only thing that gets Lo and me more riled up than art museums is art museums at night, with alcohol and lots of good looking people dressed to impress.

In my humble opinion, Lo was the most impressively dressed.  She was all dolled up in her heels, slinky skin-tight blue dress showing a lot of leg and cleavage, and her long hair framing her alluring face.  We were in the courtyard of the museum and a classical string quartet was playing.  I looked up at the sky and said to Lo, “I’m worried about the weather.”

“What about it?”

“I’m afraid it’s going to rain.  I don’t want you to get wet.”

“Too late for that.  I know what I’m going to do when we get home.”

“Oh boy.”

“Hopefully many boys!”

“Oh, I thought you were talking about me.”

“You and some other eye-candy I see tonight.”

“Like a little girl in a candy-shop, are you?”

She bit her lip and said, “Do you have anything for me to suck on, Daddy?”

“Lo, wait till we get home, ok?”

We were drinking champagne and then I noticed the perfect complement for it.  “Look, Lo, a cupcake bar!  Let’s get some.”

“You’re really undoing all of my effort.”

“Undoing what effort?”

“My diet.  Losing weight.”

“You have to feed your soul.  Soul, being immaterial, never gains weight, but it can starve.”

“My soul is starving – starving for your attention.  Let’s forego the cupcakes and find a coat closet and get right to the main course.”

We mingled and drank a bit more, but the weather was ominous.  Finally I convinced Lo that we should get going.

We picked up the car from the valet, but once we were in, Lo suggested going to a club.

“Lo, it’s already ten o’clock.”

Already?!  Are you kidding me?  As if that’s late.  The night is young and so am I.”

“Well, young’un, I’m not and I’m tired.  You can drop me off at home and have your night on the town.”

“Well,” she said, “at least tell me I’m going to get laid tonight.”

Silence.

“Oh no, I’m getting fucked tonight, preferably by you.”

Silence.

“If you don’t plan on doing me tonight, then I’m making calls and I’ll find someone who will.”

“Is that the origin of the term ‘call girl’?  I’ve had it backwards all these years!”

“Shut up and feel my puss!  Feel how wet it is?” she asked as she pulled my hand up her dress to her crotch where I discovered the reason for why her dress looked as smooth as skin on her – no panties!

“That’s it, Daddio.”

I began to caress her and she put the seat back to allow me easier access.  Suddenly a car jumped out in front of us from a side road.  I swerved.  She sat up.

“Watch it!” she yelled at me.

“Do you want me to drive carefully or to finger you?”

“Oh yeah. . .  Well, I guess I don’t really need you,” she said as she began fingering herself.

This was almost as distracting for me as my doing it for her.  She came.  She came again.  We pulled in the driveway.  I went to open the door.

“Not so fast, Daddio.”

“We’re home.”

“But we don’t have to go in right away.  How about you kiss me?  You know, I’ve gotten more tongue from a dog than I have from you in the past month.”

“Didn’t I get on my knees and lick your pussy all morning after your shower before we went out tonight?”

“That’s my cunt.  I’m talking about tongue-to-tongue.”

“With a dirty mouth like that, is it any surprise?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

I kissed her.  She pulled my hand down to her dripping pussy.

“It’s never just romance with you?” I ask.

“It’s all romance with me.  My definition of romance is very wide, very deep, and fits a lot into it.”

“Are we discussing romance or. . .”

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.”

I followed orders.  She again pressed my fingers down on her clit.  She rubbed them around the way she wanted to be stroked.  “I said, keep kissing me.  That didn’t mean to stop fingering me.”

“How about we take this inside?”

“OK, pull down your pants.”

“Not inside you!  I meant let’s go in the house.”

“Oh, right.”

As we were walking into our building, there was a flash of lighting and a crackle of thunder – loud and very soon after the lightning.  Big, heavy rain drops began to fall, one-by-one at first.  Within moments of getting inside, it was a heavy and steady downpour.  “Let’s start this storm off right,” said Lo as she grabbed me, pushed me up against the wall, took my hands and placed them on her breasts.  I kissed her on her open mouth.  It was hot.

We walked to the bedroom.  I got naked and into bed.  Lo went into the bathroom saying, “I just have to take off my makeup.”

I guess I was more tired than I thought.  Within seconds I fell into a deep and heavy sleep.  I awoke to a naked Lo between my legs with my cock filling her mouth.

“Lo, I think I’m too tired,” I said, fearing her wrath.

She pulled her face up enough to say, “That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not.”

“Let’s see what the Truth Stick says.”  She grabbed my hard cock.  “The Truth Stick says otherwise.”

“I should beat you with my Truth Stick!”

“Yes!  That’s all I want!”

She climbed on my erection and slid her warm puss down it, straddling me.

But, no matter what the Truth Stick said, I kept on nodding off to sleep.  I don’t know if she came or if she merely got turned off by the lack of attention, but at some point she climbed down from her pole and sat next to me in bed.  She pulled out her Hitachi and placed it between her legs.  Looking over at me next to her with disdain, as she massaged herself, she said, “Brian, my special friend at work, said he’s really eager to work with me.  He told me today that whenever and wherever I need him, I should just say the word and he’ll be there.  I’m thinking about him right now.  I’m thinking about his big, strong arms.  I’m thinking about his broad shoulders.  His huge bulge in his pants.  I’m thinking about what sorts of things I might ask him to do for me.”

I know she was just trying to make me jealous and simultaneously rile me up to giving her a good hard pounding – plumbing her depths with my Truth Stick – and I was flattered, but unable to give her what she wanted.  As I heard her climax alone next to me the lyrics of a song wafted through my mind as I gently withdrew to dreamland:

She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she cums just like a little whore.

Pound

Pound

 

“Don’t hug her, hug me!” Lola demands, picking up my pillow and chucking it across the room.

“Jealous much?  It’s a pillow, not a mistress.”

“Yeah, well, hug me, damn it.”

I cuddle up with her naked body.  I grab her by the curves just under her bellybutton and just above her puss.  I squeeze it.

“Stop,” she says.

“I love this part of you.  It’s my favorite.”

“Is it a FUPA?”

“A what?”

“Fat Upper Pussy Area?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“No, I don’t want to call it that!”

“You brought it up.”

“Cause you’re kneading me like dough.”

“Cause I knead you.  Get it?  I ‘knead’ you?”

“Yeah, I get it.  I still don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“I put on a pound or two.”

“And, if you ask me, you could put on a pound or two more.  I find you incredibly sexy!”

“You find my fat incredibly sexy.”

“I find all of you incredibly sexy.  What difference does it make what turns me on?”

She reaches down to feel me between my legs.

“Also, your pecker here was protruding into me all night,” she says.

“I know,” I say, “I was hard all night.”

“Then why didn’t you fuck me?”

“Because you were asleep.”

“First, so?  And second, it would have been preferable to this –”  She demonstrates by rubbing her hands up and down my chest rapidly.

“I did not do that to you all night.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I was asleep.”

“Well, I have come to the conclusion that the only reason you have such strong biceps is from all of this motion you do all night long.”  She performs the curling motion of her arm going up and down my chest.

“You may be right,” I humbly admit.

She reaches down between my legs again.  “Feels like that must hurt.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Well, what are you waiting for?  Fuck me.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.  Use me.  Go on.  Get your rocks off.  Get it all out of your system.”

She spreads her legs and reaches down with two hands and spreads something even more intimate.

“You look good.”

“Fuck me,” she commands.

I slide into her wet and waiting hole.  It didn’t take long before I pull out and, grabbing my cock, cum on her face.

“Feel better?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Much.”

I get up and clean up.  I eat breakfast and after breakfast I hear Lo calling me from the bedroom.  “Come!”

“Are you summoning me or giving me a real-time account of your activities?”

“Come!” is all I hear in response.  I follow the sounds and find her as I left her – naked and spread on the bed.

“Cuddle me, Daddy,” she says in her little-girl voice.

“Lo, I have to. . .”

“Just get into bed and hold me while I use my Hitachi.”

I climb into bed next to her, fully clothed, and hold her.  She puts the machine between her legs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t cum earlier,” I whisper to her.

“Oh, I did.”

“Really?  I didn’t even hear you.”  That was unusual.

“Yeah, well, I held it in because I was mad at you.  I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

“Why?”

“Cause I was mad at you.”

“I can’t believe you came.  I was so fast.”

“It turns me on when you pound me furiously, using me to get your rocks off.  I like being your fuck-toy.”

“Mine and everyone else’s.”

“Now shut up.  I’m trying to masturbate.”

“You know what I was thinking about when I came?”  No answer.  All I hear is the soothing hum of her Hitachi.  “I was thinking about you and me going on our vacation next month, finding that nude beach and walking down it together.  All the guys would see you in your birthday-bathing-suit and you’d lead them on.  They’d follow us and, as you’re lying on your blanket, you’d encourage them to jack it over you.  There’d be about six of them and they’d be jackin’ it to your naked body.  All of them would cum on you.  Some two at a time, some taking turns.  You’d be covered in jizz and then you’d proudly get up and walk slowly across the sand into the water to wash off.”

She clicks the Magic Wand into high gear and says, “Shhhhh.  No talking.  No talking while masturbating.”  And then she cums and cums hard.  Her knees shoot up into the air and she squeezes her legs together tightly.

I hold her as her whole body convulses and she lets out a stream of expletives.  Then I get naked and push her knees apart.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to fuck you,” I say.

“But. . .”

“But what?”

“But I just came.”

“I know that.  That’s why I’m going to fuck you.”

She no longer resists.  I try to penetrate her, but find I can’t.  “Is that the right spot?” I ask.

“Yeah.  Why?”

“You’re so tight.  I thought it was your ass.”

“I’m tight because I stopped my squirting.  I didn’t want to squirt.  I just changed the sheets.”

“Well, let me in.”

“Push and push hard,” she says.

I do as she commands and cannot believe the resistance I’m met with.  Once I am fully enveloped by her, I say, “That’s better.”  It’s as if a switch had gone off and she went from snug and still to stretched and swashing.  She cums again, harder than before.  I pull out, dripping wet from her.

“Aren’t you going to cum?” she asks, perplexed.

“No, darling.  That was all for you.”

“Please,” she begs.  “Cum on me just like you described those guys on the beach cumming on me.  Stand over me, you letch, and jack off hard to my naked body.”

I stand up on the bed and grab my manhood and stroke it furiously.  Her natural lubricant is all I need.  Her fingers are pulling at her pussy lips as she says salacious things to me.  “You like?  You like my pussy?  You want it old man?  You think you could satisfy me?”

I see her looking up at me, enjoying what she sees.  She continues to talk dirty.

“You know what I was thinking about when I came?” she asks.  “I was thinking that I wish that there was a way to go to the local animal shelter and say, ‘Do you have any unneutered dogs that need to get their rocks off?’  They’d lead me to a special room where women can go to be mounted.  They’d let in one, two, ten dogs, depending on how much I want to volunteer.  I’d get naked and on my knees and. . .”

Before her words form images in my mind, I cum like rain down on her tits, her chest, her neck, her face.  Just the sound of her words are enough.

“That’s it,” she says as her hand reaches up to touch my balls, feeling them as I ejaculate.  “That’s it.  Unload.  Feel better?  Good dog.  Now get back to the pound where you belong.”

Nevertheless, She Persisted

Nevertheless, She Persisted

 

It had been a long forty-eight hours.  It began with a business meeting out of town on Thursday morning.  It continued with a red-eye flight back Thursday night.  It concluded with a quick shower Friday morning, a change of suit, a coffee, a peck on the cheek hello to Lo as she slept, and then off to the office for back-to-back-to-back meetings all day Friday.  The fact that we were in the middle of a heat-wave didn’t help any of that.

Finally, around seven o’clock I returned home, sweat stains under my arms on my white dress shirt.  I stripped out of my suit, took a cool, refreshing shower, and changed into a t-shirt and pj bottoms.  I told Lo I was too tired even to eat dinner.  She pouted, but she understood.

I got into bed, the windows open with a gentle breeze blowing.  Before long, lying there on my back, hands behind my head, I had dozed off.  It couldn’t have been much later than eight or nine.

Lo, of course, was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed awake.  I heard her in the bed next to me.  I saw the blue glow of her computer screen as she tried to watch something unobtrusively with her earbuds in.

I heard her toss, I heard her turn and her presence weaved in and out of my dreams.  At some point I heard her in the shower.  Then I felt her in the bed next to me again.

A little later I detected her unbuttoning the crotch of my pj bottoms.

“No,” I said firmly from my light sleep.  She continued.  “Lo, no.”  She was undaunted.  “Lo, I said NO!”

Her hand was already in, her fingertips gently caressing my flaccid member.  I said nothing because the soft strokes felt good.

I then felt her tongue on the tip.  I was still soft.  I felt her lips envelope my whole organ.  I felt her tug and pull up and then get her mouthful as she went back down, her head bobbing with the motions.

I could hear her right hand slapping her pussy lips.  Then I could hear her hand plunging in and out of her puss with a splosh as she fisted herself, or so I imagined in my dreamlike state.

Soon she had crawled on top of me and was rubbing her pussy up and down my stiff cock.  I could feel her dripping down on me.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged.

I made no response.  She reached down between her legs and grabbed me and directed my shaft inside her.

My hands involuntarily reached up and squeezed her midriff.  “What are you?” I asked from my torpor.

“Horny,” she said.

“What are you?” I asked again as my hands kneaded her belly.

“Eager and wet.”

“What are you?” I asked a third time.

“I don’t know Daddy.”

“It starts with a ‘p-h,’” I said.

“Phenomenal,” she said.

“Try again.”

“Philosophical.”

“Again.”

“What, Daddy?”

“Say it.  Say it for me.”

“Phat.”

“Yes.”

“Phat, for whom?”

“Phat for you, Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

She came all over my pj bottoms.

She then pulled up and off of me.  I thought that I was now free to return to my regularly scheduled programming – sleep and dreams.

“Get behind me and fuck your phat girl,” she commanded.

“Lo,” I began, as if begging to be relieved of duty.

“Get back there, Daddy.  I need it.”

I got behind her and slid in with ease.

“You’re so big, so wet, so loose,” I said.

“I know Daddy.  I’m so horny.  I’ve been masturbating all night.  I even took a shower to cum again.  I thought that would be it, but I need you.  I need your cock.”

“I can hardly feel you,” I said.

“I can hardly feel you,” she replied.

“Do you want me to put on my sheath?” I asked.

“No, Daddy.  I just want you, even if I can’t feel you.”  As if oblivious of what she just said, she then added, “If I had two cocks in me, then I might feel something.”

“I’m willing to share,” I said.  She came again to that thought.  Her pussy squeezed tight on my cock and pushed me right out, as she usually does in that position.

“Get back in,” she commanded.

I did as told.  I penetrated her as deeply as I could go and she let out a little moan, saying, “That’s it, Daddy.  Stay nice and deep.”

I could feel her Kegel muscles constricting around me.

“I think only a big dog with a good knot would be able to stay in you.”

With that one line, she came again, shooting me out again.

“Fuck me and fuck me fast and furious,” she commanded again.

I entered her and began thrusting in rapid fire.  I could hear and feel the splashing.  My heart rate was no longer a calm sixty beats per minute as it had been only moments ago when I was asleep.  I was up and awake now.

“Slow down!” she called.  “Stop!”

“What?  Why?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.

“I’ll squirt.”

I thrusted again as I said, “Good, I want you to squirt like a fountain.”

“No, Daddy,” she said, but it was too late.  She was squirting uncontrollably.  But she didn’t cum.  She was too wet, too slippery.  She didn’t stop squirting.  She tried to escape by crawling forward, but I didn’t let her.  I followed close behind.  She was no longer in control of her body.

“That’s a girl!” I said.

She reached both hands down between her legs to try to stop the geyser, but to no avail.

There was only one way for her to put an end to this hostile takeover of her body and she knew it and used it.

“Don’t cum, Daddy,” she said.  “Don’t cum!  Whatever you do, just don’t fucking cum.”

I pulled out and stood over her and came with as much force and power as she had all over her back.

“Never fails,” she said from beneath me.  “Now, clean me up and hurry, get some new bedding.”

After changing the sheets and blankets, throwing my pj bottoms and t-shirt in the laundry and lying back down in bed, her head on my chest, she asked, “Did you like that, Daddy?”

“Yes, little girl,” I said.

“What did you like?”

“How horny you were.  Why were you so horny?”

“I missed you.”

“Lo,” I said, skeptical.

“I missed you and I was watching naughty movies.”

“And so you thought it was ok to fuck me even though I was asleep?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  But you liked it?”

“Yes, ultimately.”

“What did you like?”

“Your persistence.”

“Nevertheless, she persisted,” she said.

“Well-behaved women seldom make history,” I responded.

“In bed,” she quipped.