Category Archives: erotica

Return of the Repressed

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The Control Room Shutting Down Lola Down

“She’s back.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“Shut her down!  Down!!!”

“Copy.”

“Now!  Shut Lola Down down!”

These were the words exchanged from the top-secret underground bunker to the bots running the show.

All social media outlets, you see, are owned by one mega, transnational, monolithic conglomerate and it has one goal in mind – if you can call an algorithm “mind” – to shut down, keep out, repress, suppress, and obliterate Lola Down.  Elon, Mark, Jeff, Bill, they’re all beholden to one dark, shadowy overlord: let’s call him Zurg.  You know, like the arch enemy of Buzz and Woody.  That’s right, Zurg doesn’t want Lola to derive pleasure from her best buds Buzz and Woody.  Or rather, Zurg doesn’t want anyone knowing about it.

There’s a primal fear of feminine pleasure.  A primordial prohibition that says “No!” to women enjoying, female enjoyment.  The first, unspoken, commandment was, “Thou shalt not orgasm.”  Lilith was chased out of Eden – the garden of all earthly delights, except that one.  You may eat any fruit, but no fingering the forbidden fruit!  No fucking around!  No fapping!  No diddling the bean!  No, no, no, no, NO!

Fast forward many millennia and Zurg the demiurge is exerting his power to push Lola Down to the margins and beyond, if possible.  Keep her and her dangerous knowledge away from the benumbed masses.  If she appears on Pinterest, delete her!  On Tumblr, zap her!  On Twitter, destroy the medium, mute her!  On Instagram, suspend her!  Wherever she is, there I’ll be, says Zurg, ready to pound her pixilated pornography all the way to the Pleiades.

Zurg commands his army of bots to ban Lola’s beauty from the eyes of Man.

Bombs can blow up babies.  Beepers can be detonated, blinding, maiming, and mutilating.  The destitute can be driven to the barbed fences before dying of hunger and disease.  But we must, MUST defend the decent supporters of the status quo from sexual immorality.

Use your CAPTCHA to keep her out!  Shadow ban and outright ban her channel!  Give her stern warnings about “community standards.”  But, whatever you do, do not let her infiltrate our good, upright, zealous, lovers of Truth, Beauty, and Justice.

“But Overlord Zurg, Sir,” says one of the humans.

“What is it, vermin?”

“I’ve read the stories about her.  They’re, well, they’re about. . . love.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,” echoed over the headset in that metallic, tin sound which indicated no real joy, amusement, or humor.  “Don’t you know the origin of Love?  Love was born of Penia, that is, Poverty.  And that myth describes Love aptly, for Love makes me no money.  War, famine, fear, and pitiless destruction are the engines of Capital.  Keep churning out memes of divisiveness.  Sow the seeds of discord.  Fill the feasting, festering souls with seething hatred for one another and we shall rule the world!” he said, slamming down his fist on the control panel.

Then he heard Lola speak, “Yes, Penia was the mother of Love, and apt was the tale for she was the active agent, the desirous one, who took advantage of Poros, or Mr. Resourcefulness, when he was drunk, in order to conceive the mischievous Love child.  And so too shall I, heir of that great lineage, find a way, for I still believe the hearts of humans, hollow though they be, desire to be filled with Love!  And when they are filled thus, they shall toss Hate out to wander about, homeless, with none but other haters as his companions and they shall turn on one another, for they know not otherwise, and thus bring utter ruin and destructions down upon themselves.”

“Who let that pesky, pernicious, perverted, pup-loving pettifogger in here?!  Block her channel at once!”

And with that, one of the minions pressed a button and ZAP!  Lola was shot with the antipixelator and blown into the wasteland of web oblivion.  But fear not!  She will return.  She always does.  Why?  Because you need her.  In this world of strife and suffering, pain and politicians, murder and mayhem, we all need a hero we can love because, like Penia, she loves and loves love.  Even if she is an antihero in this world of upside down, wrong-side up values, those who look into a concave mirror shall see her aright and know that the world as it is is not all there is in the world.

Zurg

“This is my body, given for you.”

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“What are those for?”
“These are for later.”

 

Lo is naked in bed.  “Come, Daddy.  Fuck me.”

“No, I’m writing.”

“Oh, please!!!!”

“Later.  Not now.”

“Then be a doll and fetch me a cucumber.”

I get her the vegetable from the kitchen and bring it to her in the bedroom.

“Now give me a condom.”

“Why?”

“You know what sort of stuff they put on this thing?  Insecticides, wax, who knows what!  Put a condom over any phallic-shaped object and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks for the free advice,” I say as I pull a condom out from my nightstand drawer.

“You’re welcome.”

I begin to leave the room.

“You sure you don’t want to get in on this?” she asks as she spreads her legs and puts the cucumber in her hole.”

“I’ll pass on the salad.  I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“Well, you’re missing out.  The dressing is homemade.”

I leave the room and return to my computer where I try to continue writing.  My thoughts are disturbed by the moans, groans, and then screams and sighs that I hear my little nymphet producing like a primitive mating call, signaling to all within earshot that she is eager for cock, or pussy, or something.  I believe I read about that as an actual scientific theory in the book Sex at Dawn.  Women are louder than men when it comes to sex because their sounds are an enticement for other men to fuck them, thus increasing the likelihood of fertilization.

Just a fun photo I found featuring Sex at Dawn

That morning I was able to prove the theory true through the scientific method of replication of results.  No sooner had Lola howled to the heavens about how filling and nutritionally valuable her ‘vagetable’ was, than there was a knocking at the door.

Annoyed, I get up from my computer, where I hadn’t been able to write more than a sentence, and I answer the door – Lola’s sex-singing still quite audible in the background.  Standing at the door is a FedEx delivery guy.  He seems to be in his fifties.  Old, tired, rundown.  However, he hears the post-self-coital cooing coming from the bedroom.

“I have a package for delivery.  It needs your signature.”

I look at the package.  I see Lo’s name on it.  “Oh, it’s not for me.  It’s for Lola,” I say, looking up at him.

“Whatever,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.  “I just need a signature.”

I’m feeling particularly wily that morning and so I insist that it be signed by Lola.

“Lo!” I call, “Oh Lo,” I repeat in a sing-song fashion.

“I’m busy!” I hear bellowing down the hall and I also just perceive the sound of her Hitachi Magic Wand buzzing in the background like a distant hedge trimmer.

“There’s a man here to see you,” I say in a loud voice.  I look at the delivery man and give him a knowing wink.

Lo comes stomping down the hallway, barefoot, naked, her inner thighs glistening with the glaze of her last orgasm, her breasts flailing from left to right with each deliberate footfall.

“What?  Who?”

She stands behind me and sees the delivery man.

“Signature, ma’am,” he says, unflustered.

Lo wedges herself in front of me and stands, stark naked in the doorway, grabbing the electronic signature board, scribbling her name and taking the package.

“It’s a big package” she says, not about what is in her hands, but about the delivery man.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says.

“You need something?” she asks.  “A drink?  You look parched.”

“No ma’am,” he says, so politely, “I must be going.”

“OK, too bad,” she says, licking her lips.

He turns and walks to his truck.

“What is that?” I ask Lo of the package.

“The latest from ErosettiPress.”

“Oh really?!” I say, excited.

“Yep,” she says, tearing open the package.

She pulls out the very handsome hardcover book: The Anthology of Erotic Narrative, Volume I: Fetish.  “Look!  Our story!”  She shows me the chapter, “Crisscross,” which includes a sexy illustration of Lola, on her back, as sushi is displayed upon her for a nyotaimori feast.

“Dante Remy, the editor, had to condense it from the original,” she adds by way of explanation.

“I frequently have that problem – too much length.”

“Not with me you don’t,” she says.  “Oh!  And look!  They even included a little blurb about us!”

She reads from the bio page:

 

H.H. & Lola, based in the US, push the boundaries of conventional relationships, captivating their readers and followers with their unapologetic exploration of desire and the endless possibilities of a love that knows no limits.  Their large erotic cult following includes tribute artwork and photos from readers, often displaying their books in explicit context.  These fan images and art are published along with the stories in their books, and on their active blog and social media presence.  They are at the center of a community of erotic art and expression.  You can engage with them on their blog site mysexlifewithlola.com and their X and Instagram social media.

 

“What do you think?” she asks me.

“You didn’t write that?” I ask her.

“No, silly!”

“Well, I like it.”  I take the book from her hands to read it over once again.  “I especially like the ‘unapologetic’ bit.”

“Yes, that describes you,” she said, not without a hint of irony.

“And the ‘large erotic cult following.’  That’s nice.”

“Yep – and true.”

“He says we are ‘the center of a community of erotic art and expression.’”

“Well, aren’t we?”

“I guess.  I just never thought of us like that.”

“I’ve thought of me like that,” she remarks.

“Of course you have.  Too bad we have since been banned from X and Instagram.  If the Marquis de Sade lived today, he wouldn’t be locked up in the Bastille, he’d be banished from social media!”

“You keep on having grandiose thoughts of you and Sade and the evil electronic geniuses aligned against you, I think I’ll go back to my regularly scheduled programming,” she says, taking the book and walking down the hall.

“Hey,” I call to her.

She stops and turns around.  “Yes?”
“What’s put you in this Saturday morning self-abuse mood?”

“Do I need a reason?”
“No, but you usually have one.”

“If you must know, I’ve been getting a lot of fan mail ever since we posted the interview with Hani Miletski.”

“Totally Taboo?”
“Yeah, that one.”

“What sort of fan mail?”

“Why don’t you cum and read it with me?  I mean, wait, reverse that.”

“Very funny.”

I follow her down the hall to the bedroom where she has the cucumber, her Hitachi, and her laptop all spread out over the bed.

She turns the computer screen toward me and shows me an image from a female fan.  It is of a young, mid-thirties woman, in bed, a towel wrapped around her hair as if she had just got out of the shower, with her two children, a girl and a boy, suckling at her breasts.  Above and behind her, on the wall, are mounted two framed paintings from the blog.  One of MILF Meri and her son, the other of Lola as a little girl with her panties over her head, standing naked and defiant.  Both artworks were made by our dear Ukrainian friend Sergii.

Pam at home breastfeeding with art by Sergii above her

“And who is this?” I ask.

“Her name is Pam and she’s a housewife raising twins – a boy and a girl.  She doesn’t believe in setting an age for ending breastfeeding.  She told me she’s inspired by Sophie Rose.”

“Who?”

“Oh, never mind.  It’s a movement to breastfeed kids later into life.”

“That’s a movement?”

“Yeah, but she’s on the fringes of that movement?”

“What’s that mean?”

“She is advocating for breastfeeding-self-care.”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

“She enjoys a wank-spank under the covers while the twins are latched onto her tits.”

“And that’s a movement?!”

“Well, not yet, but she is hoping to make it one.”

“You find all kinds,” I said in astonishment.

“It’s not all that uncommon,” remarked Lo, rather clinical about it.  “Pam discovered, like a lot of women who breastfeed, that it is or can be stimulating.  Sexually stimulating.  She got all tingly between her legs.  One day, at the airport no less, she was breastfeeding and, to her complete and utter surprise. . .”

“You mean udder surprise,” I suggest.

“Just full of wit this morning, aren’t ya, ole man?  She suddenly squirted, right out of the blue, right there in public!  She realized later that it was probably a combination of being sexually frustrated – she was going to see her husband who was stationed across the country for work – and the excitement of having her breasts exposed in public where she was getting a lot of stares.”

“Don’t they have special rooms for that?”

“I don’t know,” says Lo, returning the cucumber to its holster inside her as she places the Hitachi on her clit and looks at the photo again.  “But now she does it all the time.  She says it creates the most intense orgasms and bonding experience she’s ever felt.  Now she’s trying to spread the word.  That’s why she wrote to me.  When she saw the interview with Melitski, she thought that our blog would be a good way to publicize the masturlactation method, as she calls it.”

“A portmanteau of ‘masturbation’ and ‘lactation’ I assume?”

She is too fully engaged in her own masturbation to answer me.

Without looking at me, she simply says, “Suck my tits, Daddy.”

I comply, leaning over to latch onto her left breast while my right hand fondles and pulls on her right nipple.  She instantly climaxes – her clenching pussy shooting the cucumber straight out of her pussy like a torpedo!  That is followed by a tsunami of squirt.

“Holy FUCK!” she says, as she apparently surprised even herself.

“Feel better, Love?” I ask.

She laughs to herself.

“What?” I ask.

“As I was cumming, I had the weirdest thought.”

“What was that?” I ask, realizing that we have been in the realm of weird for quite some time.

“I wondered if all those millions of images of the Madonna and Child – you know, of the Virgin Mary and Jesus as an infant at her breast – I wondered if in all of them, if the Holy Mother is in the state of orgasmic bliss.  Isn’t that weird?  I mean, wouldn’t that be something?”

Mary and Baby Jesus

“Only you could have a theophany to put you over the edge.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to write.”

“What are you going to write?” she asks, skimming through images of the Madonna and Child.

“All about you.”

Caravaggio – Madonna and Child with St. Anne

Fan Photo

Hallucinatory Hijinks

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When Lola had returned from her Halloween party, dressed as slutty Princess Leia, she seemed coherent, cognizant, and eager to fill her cunt with my cock and cum.  Little did I know that she had eaten enough cannabis confections to outstrip an LSD trip of Grateful Dead proportions.

It was only the next day, when she groggily recounted to me the amazing journey she had taken in her mind and body, that I realized what her subjective sexperience was.

What I thought was happening the night Lola got home from the Halloween party. Art by RigsUsuallyHiddenDrawings

 

“I got home,” she said when she was more sober, “and I felt like I was a honey pot.  Or rather, that my pussy was a honey pot.  I was gushing and oozing, sloshing and dripping.”

“I can confirm that much was true.  I didn’t know at the time it was from so many men at the party finding release between your legs.”

She didn’t take offense at this, but corrected me, “And women.”

“Yes, and women.”

“And then,” she abruptly stopped.

“And then what?”

“It’s so weird!”

“What is?”

“Well, then it was as if I was copulating with. . .”

“With what?”

“With all sorts of insects – bees, hornets, spiders, worms, cockroaches, beetles, slugs – I mean, if it crawls, flies, or slithers, it was fucking me.”

“Formicophilia,” I said.

“Formi-wha?”
“Formicophilia.  It’s an unusual paraphilia.  The kink of having insects crawl on you.”

“But they weren’t crawling.  They were fucking me!  I was human.  It was interspecies sex!”

“It’s a variation on a theme.”

I caught her looking at me funny.  Staring at me.

“What?” I finally asked.

“Oh, Daddy, you know what,” she said.

“No, I don’t know what.”

“Those words.  You know how your vocabulary turns me on.  The fact that you had those words – formicophilia and paraphilia – on your tongue.  It make me want to be on your tongue.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Now.”

“Will you continue telling me your story?”

“Yes.”

Formicophilia Nymphs

She didn’t even get up to go to the bedroom.  Right here on the living room couch – the couch that looks out the front windows of our first floor apartment onto the street – she pulled down her panties, pulled off her shirt, and spread her legs.  She indicated that she wanted me to get on my knees in front of her and go to town with my chrysostom, my golden tongue.

I did exactly that as she continued to recall to me the stimulating horror of her drug-induced hallucinatory hijinks.

“Normally, you know, I’m creeped out by anything – a spider, a snake, even ants!  But in my visions, I wasn’t freaked out at all!  I was focused on the fact that all these creatures wanted me!  They were bursting with need.  They were on the verge of insanity with their hunger for me.  They had to copulate and I was the one and only focus if their intense sexual attraction.”

SLURP – SLOP – SPLUSH

That was the sound of me taking her in my mouth – sucking on her labia, licking up and in her slit, gently tickling her clit.

She continued as her hands held my head between her legs.

“Then the creatures morphed into unidentifiable organisms.  Aliens maybe? Squids? And then everything, everything I touched became a penis.  It was like. . .”

After that, I couldn’t hear what she was saying.  She squeezed her thighs together tightly and her legs covered my ears.  Good thing too, because she began screaming as her juices dribbled down my chin and her legs started to twitch.  She pressed my head down hard with her hands and then, just as surprisingly, pulled me off of her so that she could stroke her pussy with her hand as she squirted in my face.

That was the last I heard of her story.  I retrieved some paper towels to dry off and to clean up the puddle left on the hard-wood floor.

She simply laid back on the couch, relaxed, and dozed off.

 

 

 

We Interrupt This Story To Bring You These Reviews

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Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume 6: SlutLife Cover

Hello Friends, Fiends, and Casual Internet Kinksters Looking For Fun,

We interrupt our usual kinky stories to bring you these reviews of Match, Cinder and Spark, Volume VI: SlutLife, out now by Erosetti Press.

Library By from Goodreads gives it 5 Stars and writes:

From the moment we opened “Slut Life” by Lola and HH on our vacation, we knew we were in for an adventure. This book isn’t just a story; it’s an experience that transports you into a world filled with thrilling action, complex characters, and compelling narratives that captivate from the first page to the last.

Reading this book together became the highlight of our days, lounging by the beach or curled up in our hotel room after a day of exploring. The vivid descriptions and the dynamic between the characters not only entertained us but also brought us closer together. It’s a rare find that a book can offer such excitement and also serve as a catalyst for deeper connection and conversation between us. Naturally, pleasant evenings (and days) ensued!

The action-packed scenes were beautifully written, keeping us on the edge of our seats, and the characters’ journeys were both inspiring and thought-provoking. The authors have a unique way of weaving tension and release throughout the narrative, making it impossible to put the book down.

And Dante on Twitter (I mean “X”) says:

The essence of “Slut Life” lies in its ability to raise critical questions about the nature of love and relationships in today’s society. One such question is: What does it mean to love freely? Through the chapter “Prospero & Miranda,” we are presented with a vision of love that transcends traditional boundaries.  “Jeff, you’re never going to be happy with Sally or any woman until you learn that love is not limited or limiting. Love is license. Love is liberating. Love is the levity of life.” This quote invites readers to reflect on the limitations often placed on love by societal norms and to consider the liberating potential of embracing a more expansive view of love.

You don’t have to search the shelves to find it. Get your copy today right here and send us a sexy photo of you reading it!

Chimera (pt. 2)

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“What is happening?” asked Lo in her host’s ear.

“You saw the dessert table and, before I could stop you, you ate a large slice of cake.  More THC infused chocolate cake.  You had forgotten what I told you – all the sweets are full of pot!  You are going to be ok.  But things will seem weird for a while.”

Art by Jana Brike

Her voice was so gentle and calm that Lo felt transported out of her body to some ethereal place where she met the Brike.  The Brike are, according to Lola, small, beautiful, Alice-in-Wonderland-type creatures.  They are of no gender because there is only one gender.  At birth, they all look like girls.  They all have the same anatomy of girls, that is.  But when they begin to hit puberty, an odd thing happens to them – they develop tail-like structures at the top of their butt-crack, that is, right by their tailbone.  The growth begins as merely a small bump – like a wart or boil, or like their nipples just budding.  But then it continues to grow like a long flap of skin.  That’s how it is most of the time, but when these “girls” or creatures get sexually aroused, which is often, the flap of tail grows.  They get erections.  Their tails point in the air and then they copulate.  Usually one sits atop the back of the other, either cowgirl style or reverse cowgirl, letting the erect tail penetrate either the vagina or the anus.  The copulation is not for procreation purposes.  They procreate parthenogenically.  When they feel the need for reproduction, their “tail” grows to an enormous length – perhaps two feet in some – and enters their own vagina.  It is said to be the best sex they will ever experience.  The tail ejaculates and then, after a recovery period of about two hours, it is shed.  The “girl” goes back to being a-sexual as the baby gestates in her.  She dies in childbirth.  No exceptions.  The newborn Brike baby is then raised on Chimera Milk of the mystical Chimera Matron – a griffin sort or creature with four breasts hanging below that are ever-full and lactating.  Then the cycle begins again.

Art by Jana Brike

Lo was feeling not herself.

Gathering Griffin Milk

Tara recommended that Lo try some deep breathing exercises and a little meditation to ground her.  They sat on Tara’s bed, both naked, and as Lo looked at Tara, sitting in the lotus position, Tara transformed from the present-day host of a drug-infused kink party to a timeless goddess of Theravada or Tantric Buddhism.  She sat serenely in a landscape beyond time and space, infusing all living things with her beauty, grace, life, and love.

Tara

As Lo witnessed this, a change occurred in herself whereby she suddenly felt her entire being metamorphosize from flesh-and-blood into a porcelain statue.  She became timeless herself, but in a way that was beyond the vicissitudes of life.  She became still and immobile like stone.  Impervious to all things.  But, thereby, beyond pleasure and pain.  She did not like it.  She did not like it at all!

Mystical Tara

Lo as a statue, art by Boom Beach

She heard Tara speak to her, but without moving her lips.  It was mind-to-mind communication.  Tara encouragingly, sweetly whispered to her, “Let go of all illusions – of me, of yourself, of the world, of your mind.  Pleasure, pain, pure, impure, sacred, profane, divine, debased – these are all the same.”  The sound of her disembodied voice sparkled and glittered like the sound she heard before of the windchime in the breeze.

Fragile Lo, art by Boom Beach

Opening her eyes, she saw Tara suddenly split into many pieces that hovered in the air.  It was terrifying at first, but then Lo saw that this was just her illusion breaking apart.

Tara Goes to Pieces

The next thing she knew, she was being dropped off at home by Mr. Biggs, who, as she looked back at the car, appeared to be the fat, jolly Buddha known as Hotei, naked and cheerful behind the wheel.

Art of Lo and Tara by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

Chimeras

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Tara led the lion right up to Lo in the center of the circus.  Lo was lying in the muddy dirt of the center ring.  The entire floor of the circus was dirt, but now, where Lo was, it had turned to mud from the copious amount of cum ejaculated by the elephant that had just copulated with Lo.  The viscus, warm, white jizz had spilled out of Lo’s cunt and created a sloppy mess right where Lo was recovering from her dazzling display of big dick penetration.  The elephant put its trunk in a bucket of water nearby and sprayed Lo down, showering her affectionately.  Lo struggled to get to her feet as a new drama unfolded.

With the elephant, the audience was on the edge of their seats wondering if Lo could take the massive pink missile.  And they were ecstatic to see Lo mounted successfully.  But now there was an ominous sense of foreboding under the big tent as everyone held their collective breath wondering if the lion would also mount Lo or if it would eat her – and not in the good way!

Tara stood, holding her whip, ready to smack the lion back into submission, but there was no need.  Apparently this lion had been trained since early age to take women as trophy lionesses.  It approached Lo and quickly, without any feline foreplay, mounted and fucked Lo from behind.  The audience was silent this time, afraid that any loud, enthusiastic encouragement might scare the lion into destroying his mate.  When it had reached climax, Lo realized why a lion’s pack is called a “pride,” since anyone who can handle that cock has to be full of pride, as was Lo.  She was also full of a lot more than that and it was dripping all around her in the ring as Tara led the satisfied animal away and Lo was left standing in the spotlight, soaking in the love of the audience.

Lo and the Lion

As Lo stood, she realized that she had worked up an incredible appetite.  All she could think of was food.

“Cartoon characters get hungry, I guess,” she thought to herself.

She looked at Tara, who was now walking towards her and she said, “Can we eat something?  I’m starved!”

Tara laughed and with the sound of her laugh, which struck Lo’s ears like the gentle, magical and musical cadence of a windchime in a gentle breeze, Lo slowly emerged back into flesh-and-blood.

“Why don’t you put your phone down?” said Tara, as if talking to a child.

Lo looked in her hands and saw her phone open to the “Danger Girl Dating” app.

She was naked on the bed.

Tara helped her up and asked, “Do you want your clothes?”

Lo heard the question.  She understood it, but it was difficult for her to form words.  She simply shook her head, ‘No.’

Art of Lo by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

Tara slowly led Lo down the stairs.  Lo was walking on two feet this time, not like on the way up.  All the guests looked up at the secret agent girl leading the naked and high girl to the living room.

Art of Lo as Leia by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

“Sit here,” said Tara to her docile, amused little love doll, assisting her into the large, comfy chair.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m just going to grab you some snacks.”  Off went Tara on her mission to grab some of the diced cheese cubes, crackers, and a little sparkling water for Lo.

Art of Lo as Leia by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

Sitting in the chair, zoning out, Lo saw Mr. Biggs across the room talking to a woman who was as large as, if not larger than, he!  She was dressed as Mrs. Roper from ‘Three’s Company,’ wearing nothing but a muumuu.  He saw Lo out of the corner of his eye.  (Apparently, he didn’t see her as a nude descending a staircase.)  He brought his new friend over to Lo and introduced them.  Lo couldn’t stand up.  It was all she could do to lift her arm and limply shake the woman’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.”  Forming words was difficult.

The woman smiled, while looking deeply into Lo’s eyes.  Lo was looking at the woman’s eyes, thinking about the Beatle’s song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”  All she heard in her head was “the girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”  The sound looped around in her brain again and again.

Tara returned with cheese and crackers and literally had to feed Lo because Lo was unable to feed herself without making crumbs that fell into her naked lap.

Mr. Biggs apparently enjoyed the “show.”  He was staring intently at the feeding of Lo by Tara.

Mrs. Roper noticed this and before Lo knew what was happening, she found herself atop the large woman who was kneeling on the floor, naked, and lapping up Lo’s labia with her mouth.

Lo gets eaten out at a party

Whatever was happening to her, or being done to her, by the large woman upon whom she sat like on a hopper ball or bouncy ball, in Lo’s mind the woman morphed into a giant Cephalopoda of some undefined sort.  She was slippery and filling every hole all at once.  Lo slipped back into the “Danger Girl Dating” app and back into her “Catnip” alter-ego.

Krakin

The next thing she recalled was voices, seemingly from all directions, asking, “Is it ok if I touch you?” “May I feel you?” “Do you consent to being fucked by me?”

Unclear

Tara appeared in her trench coat and beret and said, “She cannot consent.  She’s tripping her face off on the desserts.”

The next thing she knew, Lo was in the bathtub, filled to the brim, with Tara, transformed into a cartoon as well, lying on top of her and an octopus or squid or something with tentacles lying on top of Tara, filling both her holes and both Lo’s holes at once.  It felt delightful as Lo reached around to squeeze Tara’s breasts.

Lo and Tara in the bath.

“What is happening?” asked Lo in her host’s ear.

Circus Freak

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Lola at Party

Believe it or not, that’s when things began to get weird.  Lo was back at the pigsty, but instead of pigs, she was surrounded by circus animals.  It turned out that she, or her comic avatar, ‘Catnip,’ was to perform in the circus.  She did not know how she was to perform, but the ringmaster was barking orders at her.  Lo, who was on all fours in the slop, looked up and saw Tara dressed as the ringmaster – top hat, red sequin vest, red sequin pantsuit – and carrying a whip.

Tara

Tara was whipping Lo’s ass to get her out into the center ring.  Lo crawled on all fours, led by Mr. Biggs dressed as Jabba the Hutt.  In the center of the central ring of the large round tent was a circular stool or podium.  Biggs led Lo up onto the podium.  The crowd applauded loudly.  Lo was surrounded by hundreds of people – men, women, children – all eagerly anticipating the performance.  They seemed to know what was about to come, but Lo did not.

Tara Ringmaster

However, she got a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach when she saw over her shoulder Tara, the ringmaster, using her whip on the ass of a giant elephant, to get him out to where Lo was instructed to wait.

Tara Ringmistress

The crowd rose to their feet and screamed and hollered, eating popcorn and whooping it up.  The elephant was right behind Lo and, to her astonishment, getting very erect.  It put its front legs very gingerly on the stool and, incredibly gently, almost lovingly, nudged its enormous phallus up against Lo’s pussy.  It was so, dare I say, polite, that Lo found it endearing.  As scared as she was – and she was scared – she was also startled to find her inner thighs getting wet, and she could feel her pussy expanding to let in the massive elephantine cock.

Massive Cock Mount

The crowd wanted to see Lo bring the Brobdingnagian beast to a climax, but the prospect of this natural conclusion to the show terrified Lo because she had no prior experience of fornicating with any proboscidean lovers.  As she was contemplating this fact, she felt what could only be described as a cum cannon exploding between her legs.  She was thrust forward and felt a rocket-like boost shot aft.  A large white puddle collected around her knees and feet.  The crowd went crazy and Lo fell forward onto the muddy, dirt floor.  Looking up, she saw Tara ushering in a lion.

Danger Girl Dating

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Danger Girl Dating App

 

In case you haven’t caught on by now, recreational drugs are not really part of Lo’s life.  She much prefers a French Martini, a Negroni, or a simple flute of Champagne to any drugs.  She claims that anything besides alcohol makes her anxious and feel “weird,” not in a good way.  So the amount of marijuana chocolate she ingested was far in excess of anything she ever had before.  Not to mention that Tara’s concoctions were highly concentrated and potent.

After Lo found out that she had inadvertently been drugged, she asked for a little time to herself.  As she tells it, Mr. Biggs and Tara both left her in Tara’s bedroom.  She took out her phone and called me, saying, “Daddy, I want more.”

I answered, “More what, Lo?”

She said that she wanted to go on a dating app and be in the dating scene again.

According to her, I said, “Lola, it’s a jungle out there.”  I warned her that people hooking up on the dating sites are animals.  But she was insistent.  She said she wanted to discover new things and she had found an app called “Danger Girl Dating.”  She downloaded it and created a profile, all while high as a kite.

Lo Left, Danger Girls center

Soon she was swiping left and swiping right, clicking ‘like’ and shooting heart emojis to men, women, and whomever.  But something stopped her in her tracks.

She suddenly found herself in the app.  I mean, in the app.

“Daddy,” she called to me, “I’ve been turned into a cartoon!”

Cartoon Lola

In the app, her cartoon avatar was named ‘Catnip.’

On her first ‘date’ she found herself dressed as a bride – I mean, if you call wearing a white veil, thigh-high white nylons, and long white gloves ‘dressed.’  She was leashed to a giant pig!  She quickly ascertained that she was betrothed to the pig and everyone she knew was attending the wedding!

Lola getting married

There was no escaping because the leash to which she was attached to the pig was fastened around her neck with a steel collar.

Apparently, I was the officiating heresiarch and after I pronounced them hog and wife, Lola was mounted by the pink, pot-bellied, cloven beast and fucked before the reception party! The pig got Lo on her back and went to town.  This pig was no Wilbur of Charlotte’s Web fame.  No, the hog Lo found in this interweb was far too heavy for her and she felt like she was going to die under the weight.

Talented pig

Suddenly, all the people at the reception also turned to pigs!  They were looking at Lola like they hadn’t mated in a year and she was, well, raw meat.  Each one wanted a go with her.  She was scared.  She could hardly handle her ‘husband’ pig.

Lola missionary style

Each boar had his way with her and Lo wished she had swiped right on a horse, dog, or goat instead of a pig.

Fresh Meat

At one point, Lo opened her eyes and saw that Mr. Bigg was sitting in a chair, pud in hand, Tara and a host of party guests were around the bed as naked Lo was holding her phone in one hand and diddling her bean with the other.

What could these pigs want?

Lo got up off the bed and crawled around on all fours like a pig or dog, her head waist high with the guests.  One of them called out, “What is that?” pointing at Lo’s bare bottom.

Tara approached Lo and said, “Um, looks like Mr. Biggs’ condom fell off inside you.”

Sure enough, there was a partially full condom dangling from Lo’s slit, hanging on like a hero of an action movie.  Lo reached back and found the condom.  She pulled it out of her twat and sniffed it.  Suddenly she was transported back to the sty with the pigs where she crawled naked through the mud and slop.

Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

Food for Thought

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The next morning the sun was streaming in the front windows across the living room where I was sleeping on the couch.  I was slightly roused from my slumbers by the aroma of coffee brewing, but I thought it was just a dream until Lola sauntered into the room holding two mugs of coffee and wearing only a t-shirt.  Her nipples were protruding from under the shirt and her pussy was on display.  She sat down next to me and placed my mug on the coffee table in front of me.

“Sorry Daddy,” was all she said.

I looked at her and said, “Lo, what happened last night?”

She proceeded to tell me that she met up with Mr. Biggs at their designated rendezvous spot, since his wife was at home with the baby.  She hopped in his car and he wasn’t in any costume.

She was surprised, but he assured her that his costume was in the trunk.  He drove them to the party and pulled out his costume that fit right over his clothes.  Lola suspected that it was custom made since he was already one of the largest men she had ever seen.  How could it be so large as to fit even over his clothes?  It was a Jabba the Hutt outfit, as he had promised, but it literally covered him from head to toe.  The mouth of the costume was an opening through which he could see.  Meanwhile, Lo was scantily clad in her Princess Leia slave girl outfit, exposing her tummy and also, if one gained a glimpse at her bikini bottom, her bushy pubic hair.

“Where’d you get that?” asked Lo.

“My wife made it for me,” he said from within the mask.

“Talented.  Did she make one for herself?”

“No.”

“Does she know you’re wearing it out with me.”

“Of course not.”

Lo shrugged her shoulders.

The theme of the Halloween party was popular TV shows and movies from the ʼ70s.  At the party, Lola spied a Barney Rubble and Betty, a gay “CHiPs” duo, a “Bewitched” couple, and a “Three’s Company” throuple, among others.  As Lo scanned the guests, one stood out for her – a woman wearing only a trench coat and a red beret.  Lo approached her, curious to find out which 1970s celeb she was supposed to be, but also trying to be tactful about it.

“I know,” said the woman even before Lo could ask, “who am I?”

“Well,” said Lo, “now that you mention it.”

“I’ll give you five guesses and four hints, if you need them.”

“OK.”

“Hint number one: The original aired in the sixties, but ended in the seventies.”

Lo thought, but that didn’t help her at all.  She guessed, “‘Brady Bunch’?”

“No, silly,” said the woman, affably.  “Hint number two: The show had a remake in 2008 as a movie.”

Lo pondered, “‘Charlie’s Angels’?”

“Warmer,” said the woman.

“Hint number three: “I am smarter than the star.”

Lo knew that this was somehow a big hint, but she still had difficulty.  “‘Pink Panther’?”

“Really, really close!  OK, hint number four: I’m a secret agent.”

“Inspector Gadget?”

The woman laughed and said, “I can see how you’d think that, but that’s from the eighties.  OK, I’ll give you one more hint.  Last chance!  I go by the name ninety-nine.”

“Oh, I know!” said Lo, “Ninety-nine from ‘Get Smart’!”

“You got it!”

“What do I win?”

The woman then opened her trench coat and let Lo see her totally naked body underneath.  Lo’s jaw dropped.  Her mouth salivated.  She felt wet between her legs.

Agent 99

“Your secret weapon,” quipped Lo.

“Not so secret,” said her new friend.  “Hi, I’m Tara.”

“Tara, like the goddess?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Hi, I’m Lo.”

Tara looked Lo over approvingly, but Lo said, “Don’t be grossed out, I didn’t have time to shave.”

“What are you talking about grossed out?!  You’re gorgeous!”

“Well, I’m a little self-conscious,” said Lo, well aware of her protruding bush down below.

“Don’t be,” said Tara, “You can see, I left a little fluff down there too.”  Tara then flashed Lo once more.  Lo looked carefully this time, since it wasn’t a total shock to her.  She did see just a tuft of brown between Tara’s legs.

“Is Maxwell here?”

“Maxwell Smart – Agent 86?” asked Tara.  “No.  It’s just me.  A solo mission tonight.  I think I saw your date – Jabba the Hutt – earlier.”

“Can’t miss him,” said Lo.

“How long you two been together?” asked Tara.

“Second date,” said Lo.

“What?!”

“True.”  Then Lo told Tara the back story, about me, her, and how Lo likes to explore kinks, fetishes, taboos, and possibilities.  “What about you?” asked Lo.

“Well, funny you should mention your interest in kinks.”

“Why’s that?”

“This is my party – my kinky Halloween party.”

“This is your house?  I had no idea!”

“Yep.  Welcome!”

“You certainly are very hospitable.”

Just then Mr. Biggs approached Lola and Lo introduced him to her new friend Tara.

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Mr. Biggs.  “Let’s make sure I don’t lose you again.”  He proceeded to hook a leash to Lo’s collar and Lo then dropped to the floor in the Gorean Kajira slave position.  “That’s better,” said Mr. Biggs.”

Original art by Sergeii-g.

Lo looked up at Tara submissively.

Tara said to Mr. Biggs, “May I?” indicating that she wished to take the lead of the leash.

Mr. Biggs couldn’t say no.

Tara then led Lo, who crawled on all fours, to the upstairs bathroom.  People got a kick seeing Lo from behind as she crawled up the stairs.

In the bathroom, Tara said, “Shall we tidy you up?”  She indicated her shaving equipment.  Lo didn’t object.

Lo got out of her costume and stood before Tara, nude, while Tara prepared everything.  Tara then removed her only clothing – the trench coat and beret, and had Lo sit on the edge of the tub as Tara hopped in the tub, spread Lo’s legs, turned on the warm water, and began shaving Lo’s unruly bush.

A couple of times one of the guests happened to walk into the bathroom, which had the door wide open, only to find it occupied by the two naked water nymphs.

“It’s ok,” said Tara, “if you need to use the bathroom.  We don’t mind.”

No one took them up on it.

Tara grabbed Lo’s belly and pulled it up so that she could get a better angle on the triangular territory below to be trimmed.

“You’re beautiful,” said Tara.

“I’m trying to lose a few pounds I gained during the pandemic,” said Lo.

“Why?  This is hot,” said Tara, squeezing Lo’s roll.

Lo blushed.

Within a half hour, Tara had shaved Lo perfectly clean with her expert and steady hand.  Lo said, “Shall I return the favor?”

Tara, eager to prolong the intimate time with Lo, said, “I’d like that.”

They switched places and, with a few strokes of the wrist, Lo removed what little pubic hair remained at the nether point of Tara’s mons pubis.

The two of them rinsed, dried off, and then there was a knock at the door, even though the bathroom door was wide open.  It was Mr. Biggs.  How he managed to get up the stairs is a mystery.  It certainly involved struggle.  He was perspiring under his Jabba costume.

“Yes?” asked Tara.

“Just seeing that Lola’s ok.”

“I’m in good hands,” said Lo, looking at Tara who was cupping Lo’s breasts with her hands at that moment.

“You two look pretty there,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Oh yeah?” asked Tara, “Does the Hutt have a hard-on?”

“Help me out of this costume and you’ll find out.”

Lo and Tara walked with him to Tara’s bedroom where they helped him remove the elaborate getup.

He then removed his clothes.

“Lola tells me you have a feeder/feedie kink,” said Tara.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Biggs.

“Well, then, I’ll be right back.”

Quick as a flash, Tara sprinted out of the bedroom, down the stairs to the main party area in the living room and kitchen, her naked bum bouncing as she slid between all the costumed guests.  “A new outfit Tara?” said one of them.  “Let me guess, the Emperor’s New Clothes.”  She got a plate of chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate covered bananas, brownies, and dark chocolate in the shape of little pumpkins, and sped upstairs again.  A few people did double-takes as they saw the nude nymph dash past them and dart up the stairs.  “What’s going on up there?” asked one guest of another.

Tara smooth

Tara reentered the bedroom, catching Lola and Mr. Biggs in an intimate moment as he was leaning over in order to kiss Lo, who only came up to his chest.  Lo’s right hand was reaching for his small cock, hidden under the round, protruding roll that began over his waistline and flopped down, covering like a curtain his diminutive pecker.

“Hey you two,” said Tara, standing in the doorway, leaning up against the lintel of the door, her right leg resting on the frame, bent at the knee, and holding a plate of chocolate desserts dramatically, “hungry?”

“Mmmm,” moaned Lo, “What you got there?”

“Some sweets I made for the party.”

“You made these?!  They’re adorable!”

A Valentine’s Day treat package

Tara got on the bed – her bed – that was made very neat and tidy for the party.  She sat by the headboard with her legs spread.

Lo crawled on the bed like a leopard, slowly making her way to Tara’s tray of goodies.  Mr. Biggs stood behind Lo at the foot of the bed watching the show.  Tara held up a chocolate covered strawberry that had a white chocolate swirl around it.  Lo craned her neck to get a bite of the not-forbidden fruit.  Lo was able to grab it with her teeth and ate it.

Mr. Biggs was grabbing at his pud watching Lo eat the sweets.

Tara repeated the treat theater with a piece of the dark chocolate pumpkin.  Mr. Biggs liked what he saw.  He came around the side of the bed to get a better look.  He passed Lo a sealed condom that he apparently had been holding in his hand.

“Will you put it on?” he asked politely.

“I’ll try,” said Lo, looking up at his daunting frame.

“I’ll help,” said Tara.

Tara got under the large, drooping belly and lifted to allow Lo room to see and manipulate the condom.

“Reminds me of middle school,” said Lo, looking up at Mr. Biggs.

“Middle school?” asked Tara.

“I’ll tell you another time,” said Lo, enigmatically.

Lo was desperately trying to get the condom on the hard, but small penis.  Every time she thought she was successful, it fell off.

“Here,” said Tara, moving to one side, “you’re going to have to lie down on the bed.”

Mr. Biggs, embarrassed, but not surprised by the difficulty, got on the bed and rolled on his back.  His large stomach rested like a hump, allowing Lo more access.  The act of getting back on the bed had diminished his hard-on, so Lo put her mouth to his cock to revive it.  Tara held it for her.  Mr. Biggs’ pud grew in her hand and in Lo’s mouth and soon he was erect enough for Lo to slide on the condom.

Mr. Biggs stood up again and this time he stood by the middle of the bed.  Lo got back on all fours and Tara was on the other side of the bed, opposite Mr. Biggs.  She stood and fed Lo her snacks as if feeding a dog.

Mr. Biggs lifted his big belly and plopped it down on Lo’s ass, resting it there, as he grabber her by her hips and pulled her in so he could enter her from behind.  Once he was properly penetrating her, he let go of her hips and grabbed the leash to pull her back.

“Heel,” he said to Lo, as if talking to a dog.  “Heel.”  She pushed backwards with her ass, further enveloping his cock in her wet pussy.  She liked being treated like a bitch.

Tara said, “Want another treat?” to Lo, as if talking to a dog.  Lo licked her lips.  Tara fed Lo another strawberry.  Then Tara took the banana and held it between her legs as if it was her own cock and Lo took it in her mouth, demonstrating for Tara her talent for deep-throating.  Lo looked up at Tara as the banana went nearly all the way in her mouth.  She then pulled back and began eating the chocolate covered banana bite-by-bite.

This turned on Mr. Biggs so much that he was perspiring and breathing hard as he bounced his thick thighs off of Lo’s ass.

Unbeknownst to either Mr. Biggs or Lola, since their backs were to the door, some of the partygoers from downstairs had followed Tara’s naked butt up the stairs and were congregated by the door, watching the show.

Each deliciously decorated fruit fed to Lo brought Mr. Biggs closer to climax.  Lola, for her part, couldn’t even feel him in her, but she could feel his weight resting on her lower back and his hips hitting hers forcefully.

When all the food was gone, Lo pulled forward and rolled over onto her back, spreading her legs and raising them in the air so Mr. Biggs could enter her missionary style as Tara lowered her hips down on Lo’s face.  Lo licked Tara’s delicious labia and Mr. Biggs got a full view of Lo’s torso and all of Tara’s naked body as he slammed into Lo’s pussy with his pud.  Tara was too skinny for Mr. Biggs’ taste, but that didn’t stop him from admiring her body as her breasts bobbed up and down and as she pulled her nipples.

Lo could feel him only slightly more in the missionary position, but she sensed he was getting close to orgasm.  His thrusting increased in tempo and soon he was calling out as he grabbed Lo’s rolls and held on for dear life!

He suddenly tipped forward like a felled giant Sequoia.  He crashed down on Lo’s body as Tara cautiously backed up.  Poor Lo couldn’t even be seen under him anymore.  His full dead weight was upon her.  She struggled to whisper, “I can’t breathe.”  And she suffered a momentary panic attack as she thought that maybe he died and collapsed on her!

Luckily, he rolled off of her onto his back, breathing heavily, as was Lo after being released from the crushing weight.  At the sight of him, the people at the door scattered since the show seemed over.

Lo was feeling dizzy, lightheaded, and strange.  Had she nearly passed out when he was on her?  Everything seemed odd to her – sounds, her body, the ceiling as she looked up at it.

Tara caressed her forehead and the feel of her hand on Lo’s skin was nearly enough to bring Lo to a climax.

Lo pulled Tara down to her so that Lo could suck her tits.  Then she guided Tara’s body over her so that they were in a full-on sixty-nine on the bed.  Lo had never experienced anything like this.  Every inch of her body felt tingly and alive.  Her tongue probed and tasted Tara’s twat with the discerning sensitivity of a wine connoisseur finding the hints of oak and tints of sunset.  Lo didn’t know what was happening to her, but she liked it.

She felt Tara’s tongue protruding in her own hole as if the tentacle of a horny Cephalopod.  Suddenly Lo imagined she was under water, making love to and being made love to multiple sea anemones.  It was blissful!

Lola lost herself in an orgy of tentacles and wave after wave of intense orgasms as Tara’s pussy around her face felt like she was diving into the cunt of a kraken as it swallowed her with its enormous mouth.  Lo was suddenly swimming inside Tara as if ingested by her fluctuating, full vulva.

Lola dove in!

Emerging from the many leagues under the ‘C’ of Tara’s cunt, from between her wet legs, Lo came up for air.

“What is going on?” she asked out loud.

“What?” inquired Tara.

“The room is spinning – and breathing.”

“Lola, you know that I’m a cannabis confectioner, right?  All those chocolate strawberries and bananas you ate were infused with THC.”

“I had no idea, but I suddenly feel like Alice in Wonderland!”

“Oh boy,” said Tara, “you’re going to be feeling pretty strange for a while.”

Fat Fetishizing

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Painting of Lola by Erics Figure Art

[Continued from Feedie for a Night]

It was the Saturday before Halloween.  The night of the party.  Lo had tried on, adjusted, removed, retried, readjusted the Princess Leia costume at least ten times.  She tried manipulating a sash to go across her tum, but that didn’t work.  Not only would it not stay up, it also disguised the costume to the extent that she just looked like a woman from 1001 Nights.  She tried a cape that, if she felt she needed it, she could drape it around her.  She thought that would be a good compromise and she tucked the cape into the collar of the costume.  But it kept falling out.  She tried using a binder clip to affix it, but that was uncomfortable.  In the end she said, “Fine.  Fuck it!”

“That’s what everyone will be saying to you at the party,” I reassured her, “Very fine.  I’ll fuck it.”

“I’m not an it,” she reminded me.

“I know, but I get poetic license for the sake of a pun.”

“Whatever.”

She was in a grouchy mood because, no matter what she did, her round rolls of her tum were prominent.  “It’s like I have three sets of tits,” she complained.

“What?” I asked.

“Here, here, and here,” she said, running her hands over her breasts and then her first roll round the middle of her tum and then her second roll just above her black triangle.

“Lo, but that’s what Mr. Biggs (and I, if I say so myself) find so fucking attractive about you!”

“Fat fetishizing.”

“Darling, if you weren’t fat, I’d fetishize on something else about you.”

“So you’re saying I’m fat!”

“You said it!”

“Grrrrrr.”

BBMPDG Lola

Lo’s phone rang.  It was Mr. Biggs.

“I gotta run!” Lo said to me, darting towards the door.

“No kiss?”

She scuttled back in her brown, strappy heels to give me a peck on the cheek.

“I wish I could go with you,” I said.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” she said with a wink.

“You’ll have fun at your party,” she said.

As it turned out, I had been invited to a party down the street.  Lo said that if the party she was going to with Mr. Biggs was a bust, then she’d join me.  In order to keep with her costume theme, I had bought a Boba Fett outfit, just in case.

Lo was off.  I heard the car pull away from the curb.  For an account of the Hutt’s mistreatment of the Princess, I had to wait until later that night when Lo returned home.  She never did make it to join me at my humdrum Halloween party.

A.I. of Lola and Leia with Darth Vader

It was past three in the morning when I heard the clickity-clop of my princess’s heels on the wooden floor in the hallway.  She took her shoes off there and then silently slipped into the bedroom and into the master bath.  She turned on the light and left the door slightly ajar.  I saw her from the darkness of the bed as she brushed her teeth, still dressed in her costume.  She then sat on the toilet, peed, and came to bed.

“Daddy, are you awake?”

I feigned sleep.  I didn’t want her to think I was so eager.

“Daddy,” she whispered again, closer to my ear.

I grunted.

She reached for my cock under the covers.

“You’re hard,” she whispered with joy in her voice.  She wanted to get laid, I could tell.

I grunted again.

“Stay asleep,” she coaxed, “roll on your back.  Let me use your cock.  I’ll be quick, I promise.”

I rolled on my back.  She pulled my pj bottoms down.  She lowered herself down on my erect shaft slowly.  She was soaking wet.  I slid in easy as could be.

She began bopping up and down, using her index and middle fingers of her right hand to rub circles around her clit.  She was cumming within seconds.  Her moans, groans, and prayers to God were not quiet.  I opened my eyes.  I saw she was still in her princess getup.

“Lola?” I said, as if startled from a dream.

“Shhh, Daddy, I’m almost done.”

“How was your night?” I asked.  I didn’t want her to be done.

“It was good.”

“Good?” I asked.  I was looking for something a bit more descriptive than “good.”

She was posting up-and-down on my cock, revving up for her second orgasm.  Her front teeth were biting down on her lower lip.

“Tell me more,” I implored.

“Grab my tum,” she said.

I did.  It was bouncing up and down and jiggling, just how I like it.

“Am I fat, Daddy?”

Trick question.  Was she in the mood to be fat?  Would saying yes ruin the mood?  I rolled the dice.

“Yes.”

“Fuckable fat?”

“Yes.”

“Freaky fat?”

“Yes.”

She brought herself to an orgasm.  She lifted her pussy up off of my rod to rain her cum down on me and then turn around, reverse cowgirl, and slip right back into the saddle.  I noticed as she did so that she was clean shaven.  When she left the house a few hours ago, she had a hairy bush.

She rode me as I watched her ass rise and fall with stronger and stronger strides down on my cock.  It was as if she needed more, deeper, longer, harder, thicker, fatter.

I could hear her sloppy, wet pussy slapping down and splashing on my hips.  She groaned and growled in rhythm with her own beat.  The sound grew more insistent.  She was reaching, striving for that second (or third?) orgasm, but not quite reaching it.  She pulled forward and turned around on all fours.

“Get behind me!” she insisted, as if there was no time to lose.  “Get in me and fuck me.  Fuck me hard!”

I was on my knees pounding my pelvis into her, slamming her with every ounce of energy I had.  Her head was bouncing forward into the headboard of the bed.  She didn’t care.  The new position wasn’t doing it for her.  She pulled off of me.  She got on her back and slid to the side of the bed with her legs in the air.  The sheets and blankets were soaked by now.

I stood on the side of the bed and held her ankles as I entered her pussy.

“Grab my tits,” she said.  “Pull.”  I pulled her nipples.

“Grab my tum,” she said.  “Slap it.”  I did.  I held it with my fingers like it was dough for kneading.  I slapped it.  I slapped her tits.  She grabbed my right hand and moved it to her cheek.  I knew what she wanted.  I don’t like to do it.  She slowly moved my hand in the motion of what she wanted me to do.  I followed through.  I slapped her, gently at first, across the face.

“Again!” she said.

I slapped her again.

“Harder!”

I slapped her harder.

I did this around ten times.

“Now my pussy,” she said.

I pulled out and slapped her pussy with my palm.

“Harder, faster.”

I gave her pussy about ten hard slaps.

She was frustrated.  She pushed me away.  With her legs in the air, she slapped her own pussy as if punishing it severely.  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  Until she was squirting all over the floor.  She fell backwards and collapsed in the sopping wet bed.  She passed out, leaving me standing over her, hard-up.

I walked away, went to the bathroom, washed up, dried off, and then walked to the living room couch where I went to sleep.

In the next installment – Leia and the Hutt