Contel Bradford Interviews the Artist JoKoss

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

Cover of the Audio Book with chapters Image by JoKoss

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

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

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

What inspired you to start drawing nude artwork?

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

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

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

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

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

Cover to Volume III: Writing Under Cover by JoKoss

Do you have a favorite piece you’ve drawn?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Any new projects we should be on the lookout for?

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

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


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

10 Yoga Poses

[We offer here a sneak peek at the article just released in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, September 2020 Issue.  Here is ENM’s editor’s introduction to the story:

Hermann Humbert, writer for www.mysexlifewithlola.com and husband to beautiful hotwife Lola Down has been contributing stories about Lola’s exploits with us for months… this one may be the hottest one yet!!! You can read this story in its entirety right now in our September issue of ENM Magazine on Kindle, or we will publish it as a Patreon exclusive later this month.

Illustrations by H.H.]

Ten Yoga Poses

Dear Reader, you may recall that Roy and Gary are the young, twenty-something brothers from across the street with whom Lo has become acquainted back before COVID-19 shuttered us all in.  She seems to enjoy toying with them the way one might with two adorable puppies.  One day, not long ago, as things began reopening, she amused herself by going on a date with them to do some clothes shopping.

They went to a nearby mall and they followed her as she bounced from store to store trying on skirts, blouses, dresses, and shoes.  She would make them wait close to the dressing room to render an opinion for her.  Unless it was two thumbs up, or rather, four thumbs up and two cocks up, she didn’t make a purchase.  This scratched two itches for Lo: 1) flirting in the flesh and; 2) shopping.

This little tease titillated her and the boys for hours.

She told me all about it, eager to arouse my jealousy, when I got home from work, but she was let down when she realized that I was quite pleased with her excursion because it saved me countless hours of waiting by the dressing room for her to toggle back and forth between her natural impulse to purchase and her attempt to avoid buyer’s remorse.

“I bet you’d like to see me toggling back and forth between Roy’s dick and Gary’s,” she said, latching onto that word which placed the naughty image in her dirty mind.

“If it makes you happy,” I said, appearing aloof and disinterested in her foolish frolics.

She stomped her foot out of frustration and beat her fists on my chest, playfully.

“You will change your tune!” she said.

“My tune?  What will be my tune?”

“I Want You.”

“You do?  I thought you wanted your two boy-toys.”

“No, silly.  I Want You, by the Beatles.  That will be your tune.”

“You know, the subtitle to that song is, ‘She’s so Heavy’”

She flipped me the bird and said, “Of course you would know that.”

“But I think you’re just right.”

“So do the boys,” she added.  “Finally, a package deal: FOBO.”

“What is ‘FOBO’?”
“Fuck one, blow one.”

“I see.  And here I thought you just liked the company while you shopped.”

“I do!” she said enthusiastically.  “And I got this,” she said as she pranced around the room like an exotic dancer on stage.

“What?” I asked, befuddled.

“These,” she said, prancing around some more, her hands on her hips.

“Your hips?”

“No, silly.  These jeans.  They’re $250 jeans, but you’d never guess what I got them for.”

Lola’s New Jeans

“You blew a kiss to the shop clerk.”

“No.  Don’t be daft.”

“You blew the shop clerk.”

“If only.  But he was clearly not into my type.”

“Slutty?”

“I’m offended.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I meant, horny with a young man on each arm.”

“No.  He wasn’t into women at all.”

“I see.”

“Don’t you want to know what I got them for?”

“Who, the two young men?”

“No!  The jeans.”

“Oh, right.  What did you get them for?”

“It doesn’t matter now.  What matters is what I’ll get out of them for.”

“What will you get out of them for?”

“The two brothers.  They’re coming over.”

As she said that, there was a knock at the door.  I answered it and let in Roy and Gary, not knowing who was who.  Once they were in, Lo blurted out, “They say I need some caulk.”

“What?”

“Yeah, a lot of caulk.”

“Really?”

“Yes, to fill all the holes.”

“How’s that?”

“They just stick it in there and out it comes.  Voila!  There might be some overflow, but we can just wipe that up.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I’ve handled caulk before.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeah.  Lot’s of times.  I’m practically a pro with caulk.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.  One hand.  Even two!”

During this whole performance, the boys just stood around and looked on dumbly.

“Where’s the bathroom?” one of them asked.

“Right down the hall there,” I said, pointing to it.

“And the caulk?” asked the other.

“I thought you two brought your own,” I said.

“No, silly,” said Lo.  She then went into our little tool drawer and pulled it out, along with a caulk gun, a box cutter, a sponge and a bucket.”

“Here you go,” she said to the other brother.

“Oh, caulk!” I said, with enthusiasm.  “I thought you were talking about. . . ah, never mind.”

“Yeah, what did you think we were talking about?” asked Lo, as if she hadn’t meant to confuse me all along.

She led the second boy down the hall and showed him the seam where the tub meets the tile and how discolored it had become.

The two boys set to work while Lo went into the adjacent master bedroom and slipped out of her jeans.  She wore only her thong and her blouse.  They were unaware until she called into the bathroom and offered a cool drink.  The boys looked up, dumbfounded.

Lola’s Thong and Blouse

“Uh, sure,” said one of them.

“Two lemonades ok?”

“Fine,” said the other, drawing out the vowel as if talking about Lo and not the lemonade.

Lo turned and went to the kitchen to grab the drinks for the boys.

“Don’t turn up the heat too much,” I said to her.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked like Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind.

She turned tail and walked away from me.  I followed just to see what would happen next.

She went into the bathroom and bent over to the kneeling brothers and handed them the drinks.  “Oh, that looks much better!” she said of their job.  Truth be told, it was a hack job by two amateurs.  That didn’t matter to Lola.  That was strictly beside the point.  All the more reason to invite a professional contractor in and give him an encore performance of her Emmy Award winning act.

The boys, clearly distraught at the difficulty of the task and the distraction of Lo, wiped the little sweat from their brows and drank the lemonade.

“Maybe now that you fixed that so quickly, you two could help me with something else,” she said.  I was very curious what she had in mind, as were our two fix-it men.

Lo crawled across the bed, her ass cheeks seductively contorting like a proud lynx prancing before her prey.  She got to the edge, her top half disappeared off the side of the bed, and then reemerged with her Hitachi.  She looked over at the captivated cherubs and said, “I don’t know if the motor blew out or what, but I can’t seem to get it to turn on.”

The boys practically fumbled over each other trying to get to her.  As they did, she cast me a knowing look.  She had just used the masturbatory machine that morning.

One of the boys held it, flipping the switch on and off to no avail as the other inspected the wire.  Both of them stood over Lo’s prostrate body on the bed.  She smiled up at them.

“Did I overdo it?” she asked.  If there was a portmanteau that combined ‘innocently’ with ‘guiltily,’ like the word frenemy, then that would be how she asked that question.  And what a frenemy she was to me just then!

One of the boys flipped a switch on the power cord under the bed and the giant white ball began vibrating ferociously in the other’s hand.

“You did it!” squealed Lo.

“Yeah,” said the one who flipped the switch.  “You must have tripped the circuit breaker on this,” he said, holding up the power cord and showing Lo the emergency shut off button (that I’m sure Lo purposely shut off for just this reason).

“Oh, I see,” she said.  “Thanks!”  She spread her legs wide, indicating where the vibrating ball of the Hitachi should go.

The one holding it eventually got the hint.  He placed it between her legs, over her thong.

“Yeah,” said Lo lustily.

He let it rest there for a while.  Lo rotated her hips to get the vibrations where she wanted them.

“Turn it on hi-power,” she instructed.  He obeyed.  Lo raised her hips and pulled down her bra.  The other brother reached down and began pinching her nipples as Lo cupped her tits with her hands.

“Yeah,” she moaned again, “do that.”  Lo slowly unbuttoned her blouse and then removed it to let him see and touch her breasts.

She looked up at the boys and asked, “You two have been under strict quarantine?”

“Yes,” replied one of them.

“No going out?  No seeing anyone?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” said the other, “not for the past two or three months.”

“No girlfriends?”

They both laughed a little.  “Even if we had girlfriends, which we don’t, our mom would never let us see them.  Not during this pandemic.”

Lo ran her tongue over her teeth as she looked up, her head very close to their bulging cocks.  “So, you two haven’t been able to. . .”  Before she finished her sentence, she grabbed the Hitachi and manipulated it to flip her switch and, without warning she was convulsing, cursing, and cumming with a wave of wetness flowing over her thong, soaking the bed covers.  All the time, I watched in silence from the doorway.

The two guys gawked at Lo’s percolations.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she said to the two of them when she caught her breath.

Each of them looked over at me standing in the doorway, smirking just a little at Lo’s mode of flirtation.

She slid out of her soaked panties and asked, “Who’s first?” as she spread her legs wide and smacked her pussy.

One of the boys pulled down his pants and pulled out his cock.  He was large and very hard.

Lo licked her lips at the sight of it.  She turned on her tum.

Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose

  1. Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose

She rotated horizontal on the bed and got into the anahatasana, or melting heart pose, protruding her ass over the side of the bed prominently, while her arms were stretched out far in front of her head.

The boy whose pants were down – Roy or Gary? – slid in and Lo showed her appreciation with a long low moan.  As he was sliding in and out of her, his brother dropped his pants around his ankles.  He tapped out his brother and tapped into Lo with enthusiasm.  Lo seemed to enjoy the change of length, girth, and rhythm.  His brother stood next to him spreading Lo’s ass wide apart for his brother’s easy access.

Without warning, Lo’s body involuntarily squeezed him out – the first physiological sign that she’s about to have a violent squirting orgasm.

“You’re going to have to ride that pony better than that if you want to stay in the saddle,” I jibed, knowing full well how difficult it is to avoid slip-sliding out when her trap squeezes shut.

“Let me try,” said the other brother, thinking he’d have the superior technique.  He slid right in after Lo’s sprinkle (which soaked all the clothes on the floor) had subsided.

Bitilasana – Cow Pose

  1. Bitilasana – Cow Pose

Lo propped her torso up on both arms and her back made a concave curve causing her ass to protrude upward.  She used her arms to push backward to meet the boy’s thrusts.  Bang, bang, bang he bounced off of her butt.  Smack, smack, smack she slid down on his rod, her tits flailing forward and back with the rapid back-and-forth of her torso.  I should mention that, unlike in the first position, when she had her head down, facing the bed, now she was looking directly at me as she took the shocks from behind.  Our eyes were locked and she was feeding off of how much delight I took in her sexual prowess.

“Fuck me!” she commanded over her shoulder, as if he wasn’t giving it his all already.  “Come on, can’t you do better than that?”  She was just taunting him now.  I knew very well that she wasn’t used to this sort of rough ride.  The poor young fellow put so much force into it that I was worried he might pull a muscle in his back.

I saw Lo’s fingers curl up and clutch the bed sheets as if she were hanging on vertically to the bed, trying not to fall.  I saw her toes curl and I knew what was about to happen.

Sure enough, she shot contestant #2 right out of her convulsing cunt just as forcefully as she ejected the first one, followed by a torrent of orgasmic flow.

The two brothers watched, amazed at the quantity and velocity of her ejaculation.

Balasana – Child Pose

  1. Balasana – Child Pose

Lo curled up her knees under her and stretched her arms out far in front of her, tucking her head down between her arms as she caught her breath.  The boys were polite enough to give her the time she needed to recuperate.  They stood there, flanking her naked body, like silent sentinels at attention, their spears raised.

“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I instructed them, breaking my silence.

“What?”

“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I repeated.

The kid did what I said.

“Now, use that to rub around her asshole.”

“Daddy,” Lo objected.  She doesn’t like vulgarity to be used about her body.

“Around her special spot,” I corrected myself.

The kid did as he was told.  Lo moaned.

“Slide it in, gently.  Not too quickly.”

This kid needed step-by-step diagrams.

Lo moaned again.

“When she feels loose, insert two fingers.  She likes that.”

“Loose?” Lo asked, looking up at me from the bed.

“Relatively loose,” I corrected.

Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose

  1. Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose

Lo extended her arms out in front of her and lifted her ass up in the air for the boys to have it closer to their level.  Her knees were still tucked under her torso.  One of the brothers was wiggling his finger in her rear.  He eventually added a second finger.  The other brother held his cock in his hand, gawking awkwardly.

Lo was making small circles with her ass.  She moved one hand and slapped her ass cheek hard.  She did it again.  She looked back over her shoulder, enjoying the view of the brother with his cock in his hand.

Eventually she began to inch backwards, sliding off of the bed.

Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose

  1. Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose

Standing, Lo bent over at the hip, deeply plunging her torso down toward the floor as the young fella plunged his two fingers deeply in her ass.

“That’s enough,” said Lo.  “Fuck my ass.”

Both boys looked bewildered at the bounty of benefits they were getting.  The one who had been holding his cock took the lead and slid it right into her accommodating back door.

As he was going at her, Lo put her hands around her ankles and held the pose perfectly.  Though I couldn’t see from my vantage point, I imagine that she was looking up at the action from down below.

Eventually the other brother maneuvered onto the bed and sat in front of Lo.  Lo pulled up her torso out of the folded pose and placed her mouth on the boy’s rigid cock, sucking and slurping.  I was very impressed with the endurance both these youths had.

Malasana – Garland Pose

  1. Malasana – Garland Pose

Lo was very capable of bringing the brother before her to climax, but she was very careful not to.  Instead, she pulled forward, leaving Mr. Backdoor standing firm.  She lifted her lips up off of the cock they had covered with wet caresses, and she climbed up on the bed.

“You,” she said.  I think she was as confused as to who was Gary and who was Roy as I was.  “You, come here,” she commanded like a director on set before a shot.  She placed him flat on the bed, his staff protruding upward.

She straddled him, facing him.  Her hands grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them wide apart as she slowly lowered herself down on his eager erection, penetrating deep into her pussy.  She remained on her feet over him.

“You,” she instructed to the other brother, Mr. Backdoor.  “Get behind me and back in my ass,” she said, still spreading her ass cheeks apart.

He responded rapidly, hopping on the bed and, on his knees, sliding up and in her awaiting hole.

Now she had both brothers inside her.  She extended her hands in front of her to keep her balance and their pistons alternated in-and-out of her like a two-cylinder engine.  She moved her right hand down to her clit and began circling her bean.  Knowing Lola as I do, I knew that this move always preceded —————-

There it is!  Like a whale spout going off, her high pressure pussy precipitated all over the boy beneath her accompanied by her tirade of Tourette’s-like string of profanities.  I think she actually scared both boys.

Ustrasana – Camel Pose

  1. Ustrasana – Camel Pose

The boy behind her slipped out of her ass as Lo was drenching his brother caught between her legs.  Lo, thinking he was on the cusp of cumming himself, turned around rapidly and enveloped his cock with her mouth, taking it deep into her throat.  She could feel how powerfully the pressure was building.  At precisely the right moment, she pulled off his cock, drooped her head back, and grabbed onto her ankles with her hands, displaying her chest prominently for the young man to douse with his abundant display of gratification.

Covered in one brother’s cum, the second brother still lying between her spread legs, Lo leaned forward to lick clean any remnants of the first brother’s ejaculate.  But then she devoted her full attention to the second brother.

Lo turned over, and lay on the boy’s sculpted torso, slathering him in the cum that was on her breasts.  She kissed the brother on the lips, open mouth, and slid, kissing her way down his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, and right down to his rock-solid passion pillar.

When her mouth had alighted on the object of her desire, she turned to the other brother and said, “Hold it for me.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief.

“Hold his cock for me.”

Having been the beneficiary of Lo’s abundant generosity, he obliged.  He reached out with his right hand and held his brother’s phallus firmly for Lo to lavish attention on it with her labia.

Marjaryasana – Cat Pose

  1. Marjaryasana – Cat Pose

Lo was on her knees, supporting herself with her arms, drooping her head down and lightly licking the tip of the youth’s cock as his brother controlled the large limb with his right hand, circling it around Lo’s lips and slapping it on her cheek, just the way she likes.

Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose

  1. Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose

Lo said, “Get up.”  The boy who’s tip she was teasing, looked momentarily stunned.  A questioning look appeared in his eyes.  But, by now he should have known better than to question Lo.  He sat up.  “All the way,” said Lo.

He got up.  Lo took his place, lying flat on her back.  She spread her legs wide, lifting them in the air, and grabbing her toes with her hands.  Her pussy, drenched and glistening, clean shaven, and pink, was spread wide.

“Stand there,” she said, indicating right in front of her, between her legs.

The youth was on his knees, his cock raring to plunge into Lo’s gorgeous glazed open pussy.

“You like what you see?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to cum?”

“No.”

“Good.  Fuck me, then,” she said.

He got up and into her.  Her arms and legs enveloped his body.  Her face turned toward me.  “Daddy,” she said as she received rapid thrusts from the youth.

“Yes,” I responded.

“I’m thirsty.”

I disappeared to the kitchen where I got Lo a large glass of ice water.  I returned with it.  The boy was pounding her, oblivious of my movements.  Lo reached out with her left hand and took the water from me.  Her forehead was sweating.  Her hair matted down in front.  She gulped the water as the boy continued his enthusiastic jousts at her cunt.  I could tell that by this point, she wasn’t even feeling him, she was so wet and wide.

After she returned the water to me, she pushed the boy back, interrupting his irreverent attempts to cum inside her.

“Are you about to cum now?” Lo asked as he sat on his haunches in front of her, between her legs.

“I’m close,” he said.

“Grab it,” she instructed, but not to him, to his brother.

He took his brother’s hard cock in his hand.

“Jack him off.  I want him to cum right here,” said Lo, slapping her pussy.

The two went at it, cock-in-hand, as Lo spread her lower lips with her fingers and slid a few deep inside.

“You like seeing me fuck myself?” she asked.

The boys couldn’t answer.  They were mesmerized.

“You like how much of a slut I am?  You like that I fucked you both right here in front of my man?  You like my pussy?  You like my ass?” she asked as she began fingering her special spot for them.

Suddenly, without any warning, the youth ejaculated with more force, volume, and velocity than I had ever seen.  He covered Lo from head to pussy in his cum as his brother encouraged the multiple eruptions of his quaking cock.

“That’s it,” said Lo.  “That’s it.  Cum.  Good boy.  Cum all over me.  Yeah.”

Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose

  1. Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose

When the brother finally completed his composition on Lo’s canvas, he smiled, obviously very pleased with himself.  Lo smiled too and she bent her knees and curled her back a bit, pulling at her toes with her hands.

“Daddy,” she said.

“Yes Lo?”

“May I have my glass dildo please?”

I opened the night table drawer and pulled out “Glindo,” her glass dildo, and handed it to her.

She inserted it slowly in her wet pussy.

“Um,” said one of the boys, “we had better get going.”

“OK,” said Lo as she masturbated.

“This was fun,” said the other boy.

Lo was moaning at this point.

The boys were putting on their soaking wet clothes.

“Just tell your mom that you washed our car,” I said.

“Right,” said one of the boys.

“Bye Lo,” said the other one.

“Bye,” said his brother.  “And thanks!”

Lo was too self-absorbed to respond.

 

Must Read! Must Hear! Must See!

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

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

You can hear my favorite excerpt from it here:

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

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

Stress Relief

It was Thursday night.  I walked in on Lo taking a shower.  “Why is there a wineglass in here?” I asked.

“Because I thought I’d have a sensual, romantic evening.”

“Only you would make a sensual, romantic date with yourself in the shower.”

“Hardly.  But, if you must know, I had originally planned on a bath, surrounded by candles.”

“And?”

“I wanted to cut to the chase.”

I looked in at her and saw that she had the hand-held shower head between her legs.

“Only you could cheat yourself out of a romantic date in order to get lucky – with yourself!”

After her climax, she got out of the shower and as she was drying off, she said, “I’m trying to cultivate pleasurable habits.”

I snickered.

“What?”

“Pleasurable habits are your forte.  I don’t think you need to ‘cultivate’ them.”

“No, no.  Not those sorts of pleasurable habits.  Normally it would be things like getting coffee at a café, strolling through a museum.  Doing yoga.  But during these pandemic times we’re in, I need to discover and foster different pleasurable habits.  What are your pleasurable habits?”

“You.”

“Damn straight.”

“Glad we’re agreed on that because I was afraid you were going to tell me to work out or eat better, or, God forbid, cut out beer!”

“Speaking of that. . .”

“Oh no!”

“No, no, no, silly.  I was just going to say that since I can’t go to the gym, I am going to have to find a way to do workouts at home.”

Lola Today

She put on her workout shorts and sports bra and told me to get out of the bedroom because she was going to do some exercises.  I left and about five minutes later I heard her grunting and breathing heavily.

The next day Lola went into the bedroom to do her exercises again.  When she came out she told me about a workout video that got her hot – about burning your buns off.

On the third day, Lola went into the bedroom to do her exercises and I heard her grunting and breathing heavily.  I was curious.  I went to check on her.  I cracked the bedroom door and found her masturbating on the bed to the sexy woman in the exercise video.

“Is this how you work out?!” I said, walking in on her and interrupting the strenuous physical discipline.

“I told you, I am cultivating pleasurable habits.  If my exercise turns into a digitally manipulated cardio session, that counts as a pleasurable habit.”

The next day during her exercise time I caught her in the bedroom pounding her pussy with her glass dildo instead of doing pushups.

“I felt like I needed to work out, but needed to work it out first!  I had a really hard day.”

“Oh, is this your homeopathic remedy?”

“Why do you ridicule me?  I don’t poke fun at you when your idea of exercise is typing fifty-words-per-minute.”

“I’m not poking fun at you.  I’m in awe of your capacity for poking your yum-yum.”

“Good grief!  Could you leave me to my own devices and take your puns into the other room?”

The following night she began masturbating during a movie we were watching.

“Lo, what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like your finger-fucking your pussy while we’re trying to watch a movie.”

“Keen observation.”

“But why can’t we just watch the movie?  Before too long, you’ll make yourself cum and then you’ll want to fuck me and we’ll never get through the movie.”

“We’re watching Brad Pitt take off his shirt.  Everyone masturbates to that!”

“You’re extrapolating.”

“What?”

“Because you do it, you’re extrapolating from yourself to everyone.”

“And everyone extrapolates.”

“Now you’re confusing extrapolate with masturbate.  Everyone masturbates, but not during every movie.”

“Extrapolate, masturbate, fornicate, what’s the difference?  Can you please press PLAY so I can get on with this?  You interrupted my rhythm.”

“You’re just going to exacerbate the problem by persisting in it.”

“Exactly.”

As I sat watching the scene unfold, I can’t deny that it got me hard.  Lo noticed and said, “If we go to bed, will you stay up?”

“What about the movie?”
“You’ll fall asleep during it anyway.  Let’s get into the bedroom where you can get into me.”

I agreed and got up.  She remained on the couch.

“Aren’t you coming?” I asked.

“I hope to be soon.  Brush your teeth, get in bed and I’ll be right there.  I’m just going to finish this up,” she said as if she were in the middle of making a spreadsheet for a work project.

In bed, I fell asleep waiting for her.  She must have entered without my noticing, pulled out her Hitachi and, after cumming once, she put it on my back and jolted me awake.  “I was just using the defibrillator to bring you back to consciousness,” she said wickedly.

After I awoke, she sucked me off, climbed on top of me, and began riding my erect cock.  It is well trained to react to her while the rest of me sleeps.  “Fucking you is like fucking a geriatrics patient.”

“You say the most romantic things.”

“I need dick.  Give it to me.”

I was almost asleep again as she bounced up and down.

“This is like fucking a cock on a corpse after rigor mortis has set in.”

“You sure know how to turn a guy on.”

“I want your cum, Daddy.  Give it to me.  Fill me.”

Relieved to hear her request since it meant the culmination of my satisfaction and the fulfillment of her nocturnal necromancy, I released my draught of desire deep inside her to her delight.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, falling into my arms.

“So, am I on your list of pleasurable habits to cultivate?”

“Of course you are, silly!  Number one on the list is ‘Jill it. Drill it. Fill it.’”

“What’s number two?”

“Actually, it’s the only thing on my list so far.”

Stress Relief Tools

Illustrator Needed for Disney Damsel Lola Down

Belle’s Bestiality, Getting off to Lola Down together

 

“Daddy,” she complained, “diddling my bean is fine, but it’s not as much fun as when it’s diddled by someone else.”

“You want me to diddle your bean?” I asked.

“What I mean is, a surprise.  A stranger.  An unexpected diddle.”

“Oh, I see,” I said, “the serendipitous fappening that one finds unbidden upon the side of the road, in a bar, or wherever one may get one’s jollys jilled on a sunny spring day.”

“Without putting it quite so poetically, yes.  After all, it is May.  Masturbation Month.  Hooray!  Hooray!  The First of May!  Outdoor fucking starts today!” she sang.

“Sounds like you’re the poet.”

“Oh Daddio,” she pouted, as she continued stroking her smoothly shaved pussy on the bedside.  “That’s older than you are.”

“A relic from Chaucer’s time then.”

“Maybe as old as Beowulf.”

Her climax was building until she shot a small stream sprinkling up through the air onto the tile floor, much like a shot from a water pistol.

“And what, may I ask, put you over the edge that time?”

“The thought of meeting Grendel in the woods.”

“Grendel diddles Little Lo’s pink riding hood.  How literary.”

“Grendel, the Big Bad Wolf, I’d even take Gaston.”

“I bet you would!  Or all three, if you were in a crossover series.”

“I like that idea.  A Disney fairytale staring Lola Down.”

“Would you be the villain or the princess?”

“Both.”

“Both?  Disney stories are not that complex.”

            “It would be the story of how Princess Lola Down is usurped from power by the effigies that are made of her in the city because they all depict her naked, like Lady Godiva, but they come to life, like Galatea, and strip Lola of her throne and her clothes.  She wanders about the streets, a naked waif or harlot, until one day, through her own power of understanding, she relinquishes her claim to all the reproductions of herself, thereby releasing them from her true essence and allowing them to live on as mere likenesses.  By giving up her hold on them (or the hold that she wrongfully believed she had on them), she deprives them of the power they had over her and thus they yield back the throne to her once more.”   

Lady G.

 

Pygmalion and Galatea

“So, you’re victim, villain, and hero?”

“That I am.  And you know what else I am?”

“What?”

“Horny.”

“Well, have fun.”

“What?!  You’re not going to fuck me?  Give me your sword!”

“I’m going to go write that down.  You know what they say, the power of the pen is mightier than the sword.”

“Perhaps, but far more diminutive,” she said as she pulled out her huge dildo and held it up in the air as if commanding a great army to victory.

As I sat at the desk writing this story, she impaled herself several times with the wobbly weapon until, finally striking to the quick, she died a glorious death at her own hands.  La petite mort.

 

The Art Cums Alive

Telegraphic Titillation

Working from Home

Sometimes it seems that I attract a certain ilk of people toward me.  We all telegraph messages – both overtly and unconsciously – to the world and some people not only have the capacity to receive those messages, but are drawn toward them.

When I hired Ms. Gale, I was not consciously aware of anything special about her.  She had just graduated from college, was in need of some sort of job – anything really – and she pranced into my office, no appointment, after hearing from a friend that I might be a good employer.

She was my first employee.  I always strived to have a purely professional relationship with her.  But she was looking for more than a boss.  She wanted meaning, a mentor, a man.  Don’t get me wrong, when I met her, she was dating someone.  And she has since begun dating and broken up with a half-dozen guys.  But they all were about half my age and she always turned to me for both life advice and love advice.  Early on I told her, “You know, age doesn’t necessarily lead to wisdom.”  She said, “Only a wise person would say that.”

She appeals to my vanity and that’s dangerous.

Perhaps because I have remained distant and also because I’ve always been kind, she is loyal to a tee.

And so, recently, with the onset of work-from-home orders, she has insisted on coming into the office to do the necessary work that is needed.

That is also dangerous because there’s only the two of us in the office and we are guaranteed to be left alone since no clients would be popping in unexpectedly.

Let me be clear, before you, dear reader, get any lurid ideas – I am completely faithful to my Lo.  I am dedicated to her.  Obviously.  If you don’t know that by now, then, well, go back and do your homework.

The other day, a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that Ms. Gale’s blouse was unbuttoned a little too far for work, revealing her cleavage and a bit of her lacey bra.  But that is not what piqued my interest.  I was curious because there seemed to be large red splotches on her otherwise fair-skinned chest.

I didn’t pay it much mind, figuring that maybe I should turn up the AC.

A couple of days later I noticed it again.  This time the red rash ran up to her neck.  But later in the day the marks had disappeared.

Curious.

Then, last week, she came into my office to show me a document she had drafted.

She bent over my desk and her large breasts were dangling down dancing freely in front of me.  I looked at the document and then back up at her and I saw the red splotches appearing before my eyes.

“Ms. Gale,” I said authoritatively.

She stood up immediately and bit her lip a little.  Her knees were pressed together.

“Yes,” she squealed.

“Are you allergic to something in the office?”

“What?”

“Is there something in the office causing a skin rash for you?”

She looked confused.  “Why do you say that?”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to draw attention to this, but I’ve noticed on a number of occasions that you seem to have some sort of. . .”  I moved my hand to my neck and chest to indicate what I was talking about.

She looked down and saw the scarlet indicator of which I spoke.

“Can you excuse me, Mr. H., for one sec.?  I really have to use the bathroom.”

I felt terrible.  I embarrassed her.  I should never have mentioned it!  Damn.

A few moments later she returned.

She sat at her desk.  I went to her and said, “I’m sorry for that, Ms. Gale.  I was out of line.  I was just concerned that maybe there is an environmental allergen that we could remove.”

“That’s ok, Mr. H.,” she said.  “I appreciate your concern.  No.  I’m not allergic to anything.”

I wanted to let the question drop.  But I continued.  Was I being a good boss or a naughty old man?

“Is it too hot in here for you?”

“No, Mr. H.”

“OK.  Well, if there is anything that you. . .”

She didn’t let me finish my sentence.  She broke into tears at her desk.

Oh, I thought, the red splotches have to do with her emotions.

Unfortunately, as I’ve mentioned before, I suffer terribly from dacryphilia – the arousal caused by crying; specifically a lovely younger woman’s tears.

What was I to do?

“Ms. Gale.  I’m. . .”

She looked up at me, her mascara running, crimson splotches all over her chest and neck.

“It’s not you, Mr. H.,” she said.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

She was quiet for a while.  Her hands tightly gripped the arms of the task chair she was in.  She bit down on her lip for a moment and almost lifted herself up out of the chair.

“Ms. Gale?”
“Mr. H.  I’m sorry because I’ve been inappropriate.  I’ve violated your trust.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is so embarrassing,” she said.  “You know, because of COVID-19, I haven’t been able to date anyone.”

“You and the rest of the single world,” I added, supportively.

“But I’ve been on a few dating aps and. . .”

She trailed off for a bit, collecting her thoughts.

“And, I met someone.  Someone I really like.  But we haven’t been able to meet in person.  It’s terrible.”

Again, another long pause.

“It doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.  “This pandemic will eventually be over.”

“That’s not it, Mr. H.”

“What?  You can tell me anything.”  I don’t know if I meant that.  I’m not sure that I wanted to hear what she had to say.  But it seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

“I know, Mr. H.  You’re so good to me.  But I think you’re going to fire me.”

“Why?”  I was now very worried that she had violated confidentiality or something serious.

“Well, in order to feel more connected with this guy.  In order to gratify his, my, our sexual needs.”  There were a lot of pauses.  “He bought me a toy.”

“A toy?”

“A sex toy.”

“I’m not sure I follow.  What does that have to do with. . .”

“It’s called a Lush.  It is operated remotely.”

“And?”

“And, well, I have it in now.  I’ve had it in for the past two weeks at work.  He turns it on at random and, well, it causes me to climax, like really climax.  I mean, like a huge fucking orgasm.”

“I get it,” I said.  “So, it’s in you right now?”

“Yes.”

“Vibrating?”

She just nodded.

“And that accounts for the rash on your chest.”

She nodded, yes, again.  She was too embarrassed to answer with words.

“I see.  That is serious.”

“I’ll pack up my things.  I’m so sorry again.”

“There is no need for that, Ms. Gale,” I said, surprising myself.

“What?”

“Please, just don’t let it happen again and you and I, well, we’ll pretend like this unfortunate circumstance never transpired.  Ok?”

“Are you sure, Mr. H.?”

“Would you rather be fired?”

“No no no,” she said.  “It will never happen again.”

“I expect not.  This is a place of business, not a personal care facility.”

“Yes, Mr. H.”

“If I catch you doing that again, you’ll leave me no choice.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll have to spank you,” I said with a little wink, letting her know that I was just joking and I actually was not that cross with her.

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

More Cumming Soon

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

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

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

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

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

Much Love,

Lola & HH

From the story, “H.H., You Slut!”

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

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

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

Cover of the Audio Book with chapters

Pictures of Lily

[Dear readers, here is the story that was just published in the July issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine (ENM, p. 38).  We hope you enjoy it!]

We finally returned home after months in exile paradise during COVID-19 lockdown.  We returned to a dusty house, cars covered in pollen as if after a light snow, and springtime blossoms.  With nowhere to go since work-from-home orders were still in place, we Lo set herself to doing the spring cleaning in between Zoom meetings.

I, being an entrepreneur, resumed going to my office, though it was empty of Ms. Gale and my other employees.

One day, not long after our homecoming, after work I was greeted by Lo at the door.  “What are you going to do with these?” Lo asked as I approached the threshold, holding four eight porno mags in her right hand.

My Sex Life Before Lola

“I was thinking about lining my coffin with them for the afterlife.”

“You can’t even get it up now – you think that you will be able to in death?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of rigor mortis?”

She let me inside to explain.  She placed the porno mags on the dining room table, displayed prominently as ‘Exhibit A’ in the case against H.H.

“Lola, where did you find those?”

Gili Sky in a very Lola pose

“The top shelf of our closet, buried under a pair of old shoes in an old, raggedy box.”

“That’s where you started your spring cleaning?”

“I’ll be asking the questions here.”

“I’m sorry Madam Prosecutor.  What was it you wanted to know?”

“Why did I find porno mags in our closet?”

“Because that’s where I put them?” I asked more than answered.

Gili Sky, precursor to Lo

“Begging the question!”

“OK, ok,” I said, raising my hands as if under arrest.  “Lola, look at the dates on those.”

“I don’t have to.”

“I know, because they’re so freakin’ old.  I’m sorry.   I guess I’m just sentimental.”

“Sentimental?!  What does that mean?  Are each of those porn stars an ex-girlfriend?”

“No no no.  I bought those when I was in my teens or twenties.  I haven’t let go of them.”

“Because you’re a hoarder.”

“I am not a hoarder!”

“You have alumni magazines from fifteen years ago, newspaper clippings from twenty years ago.  You even have a copy of the Sunday coupons from five years ago!”

“I’ve been meaning to redeem those.”

“Yeah, that’s my point!  They don’t even sell those products anymore.”

“Maybe I have a slight problem.  You’re right.  But, if you’re going to clean, start with the coupons, leave the porn.”

“Why?  You have all the porn you need right here,” she said, pushing her tits up, emphasizing her cleavage in the cutoff t-shirt she was wearing.

“Because?”

“Because why?”

“Just because.”

“When’s the last time you looked at those?”

“I don’t even know.  Let me see.  I need to refresh my memory here.”  I began to flip through some of the magazines.  “Oh yeah, Gili Sky.  Wanda Curtis, and Gina Wild!”

Gina Wild looking for her keys

She pulled the magazines out of my hands.  “That’s enough of that.  They’re going in the trash.”

“But Darling!”

“What?”

“Those aren’t just any porno mags.  They’re European.  I got them when I was in Germany for grad school.  They cost a fortune!”

“Trash!”

“They’re collectables.”

“You have to learn to let go.  What sort of Buddhist are you?”

“A bad Buddhist.  A very very bad Buddhist.”

“You got that right.”

“But, Buddhism is beyond duality.”

“So?”

“Good/bad, right/wrong.  All that is in the realm of Samsara.”

“Samsara eh?  Is she another porn star?”

“The best!”

“Good grief!”

“Those magazines are keepsakes.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well. . .” I didn’t know how to explain.  “You’re too young to understand.”

“Try me.”

“Back when I was growing up, we didn’t have the internet.  I wasn’t exposed to all the adult content you had at your fingertips.  In America we had Playboy and Hustler.  If you wanted some really raunchy stuff there were cheap, rather disgusting knock-off magazines.  But in Europe, well, this was great stuff and. . .”

“And what?”

“The first time I ever even heard of anal sex and so much more that really expanded my horizons.  They were truly beyond anything we had in America.”

“So, you can have all that now, in the flesh, with me!”

“Actually, it’s not the porn, so much as it is the medium.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I mean, in today’s world of internet porn, it’s all pixels and binary code.  There are no more material products that you can hold in your hand, touch, feel, see the glossy pages, and put on a shelf to age like a fine wine.  It’s all instant gratification and disposable consumption.”

“You can hold me in your hand, touch me, feel me, see me.  I’m a very material girl.”

“You’re like a mashup.”

“What?!”

“A mashup between The Who’s See Me, Feel Me and Madonna’s Material Girl.”

“Oh,” she said.

“And these, these are my ‘Pictures of Lily,’” I said, picking up one of the magazines.

“Lilly?”

“No, not our friend Lilly.  The Who’s Pictures of Lily.”

The “Pictures of Lily” drum set of Keith Moon

“What’s that?”

“A song about a boy who can’t sleep at night because he’s hard-up so his dad gives him some nudie photos to jack it to, but the boy falls in love with the woman.  Unfortunately, she’s been dead since 1929.  The boy is heartbroken.”

“So you jack it to these photos?”

“No no no!  I’m just saying, all these women, they’re twenty-five years older now.”

“So, when I grow old, you won’t love me anymore?  Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, Darling!  You’ll never grow old.  You’re forever young – er younger than I am, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, maybe you should plan on lining that coffin with these, since you’re practically one foot in the grave already.”

She hates it when I point out our age difference.

Just then there was a noise at the front door.

Lo checked it out and then walked back to the scene of our skirmish.  She held the mail in her hand.

“Look what just arrived,” she said, holding a package.  She opened it.  It was the June issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine.  She gave it to me to peruse.

“I like it.  Glossy.  Centerfold.  Lola.”

“I sometimes get the feeling you like me better in print than in real life,” she said as I read over our column.

“That’s not it at all, Darling.  I like that I get to share you with so many people all at once.”

“It’s the most ‘non-monogamous’ I’ve been since this pandemic began!” she complained.

“Yes, the most ethical too.”

“Look, we’ll make a deal.  You get to keep the magazines that I’m in.  The others go in the trash.”

“At least put them in the recycling.  We don’t want to be irresponsible.”

Lo as Playboy Covergirl

Only Love Can Fill the Hole in Your Heart

The Hole at the Center of the World

“Daddy.”

“Yes?”

“Daddy, I want your attention,” demanded Lo in her spoiled-brat tone.  I was busy reading a book.  I looked up at her.

“Yes?”

“Daddy, are you proud of me?”

“Am I proud of you?”

“Yes.”

“Of course I’m proud of you,” I said.  I’ve said it before, but of Gary Chapman’s “Five Love Languages” – 1) words of affirmation; 2) quality time; 3) receiving gifts; 4) acts of service and; 5) physical touch – Lola requires all five and a few more.

“Why?” she asked.

Where to begin?  An open-ended question like that really is difficult to answer, especially after having written five published books about Lo and thousands of yet-to-be-published stories – all expressing my awe of her.

“You know,” I said instead, “it is Father’s Day, not Lola’s Day.”

“Every day is Lola’s Day.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Please, just give me three reasons why you’re proud of me.”

At this point it began to dawn on me why, on Father’s Day, she suddenly needed to hear my praise.  Because she’s been estranged from her father for so long and, on this day in particular, his absence and lack of appreciation of her was being felt more strongly than on others.  As a result, she needed to hear from me – her father-figure/lover – that I held her in high esteem.  The highest in fact.

“OK, Lo.  Well, first off, you are incredibly beautiful and sexy.”

“Though that’s true,” she said, “that doesn’t count.  No physical qualities.”

“Alright.  You’re an incredible lover.”

“Also true.  But nothing to do with sex either.”

“You’re just looking to increase the minimum of three to an indefinite amount by disqualifying my answers.”

“Try again.  You still need three.”

“You’re a great cook.”

“It can’t be something I do for you.”

“But you cook for lots of people.”

“Right.  That’s another reason why sex doesn’t count either.”

“This is hard.”

“It shouldn’t be, Daddy.  Can’t you think of three things about me that make you proud?”

“I just gave you my top three.”

“Try again.”

“Well, you’re very accomplished.”

“Go on.”

“You’ve got a graduate degree.  You’re successful in your field.  You’re a rising star.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“OK, that counts as one.”

“You’re funny.”

“Funny?  Funny how?” she asked.  “I mean funny like I’m a clown?  I amuse you?”  She said all this doing a spot-on imitation of Joe Pesci from Goodfellas.  We both cracked up.

“And you’re smart.”

Suddenly there were stars in her eyes.  “Smart.  You think so?”

“Of course I do, Lo.”

“Do you know how much that means coming from you?”

“Plethora.”

“What?”
“Plethora.  It means a lot.”

She laughed at my old joke.

“Let’s do it, Daddy,” she said.

“Why all of a sudden?”
“Because your wit turns me on.”

“And you like hearing that I think you’re smart.”

“That too and I want to learn more.”

“What could I possibly teach you in bed?”

“I don’t know, but I’m a big fan of hands-on learning.”

When we got to the bedroom and she removed her clothes, I said, “Now can I compliment your physical features?”

“No,” she said, “just pound me Daddy.  I need to be filled up.”

As I gave her what she asked for and she called out to me “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” it dawned on me (again) that she has a gaping hole in her heart that she attempts to fill through a stuffing a different hole.  Her long line of lovers, past and present, most of whom have been older men, are mere substitutes.  But I, the eldest of them all, what am I to Lo?  Lover?  Paternal benefactor?  Security?  Challenge?

As I continued the quick dips deep into her, she began convulsing and clutching my member.  Tears began flowing from her eyes and greater gushes spurted from below.  A cathartic, quaking, crying orgasm that left her breathless and sopping wet everywhere.

Still hard and sheathed deep inside her, I held her firmly, yet gentle enough to allow her to breathe deeply, her breasts heaving up and down under my chest.

“Daddy,” she whispered as she regained her composure.

“Yes?”

“Are you proud of me?”

“Yes, Lo, I’m very proud of you.”

Fill the Void with Art

Lola Mounted

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Quick Anal Hookups.”]

Lo sat down.  Lilly looked up and took out her earbuds.  Suzanne smiled a disingenuous smirk.  I looked guilty, though I was not.

Lola in bed

“Good morning, Lo,” said Suzanne.  “Sleep well?”

“I did,” replied Lo.

“The rain didn’t bother you?” asked Suzanne.

“Rain?  Did it rain?” asked Lo.

“There was a brief shower,” said Suzanne.  “I thought you might have got caught in it after you left my room.”

Lo said nothing.

“What’s the plan for today?” asked Suzanne.  “Maybe some more water sports?”

Clearly she was speaking to Lo.  Teasing her?  Trying to push her buttons?  Lo was firmly in control of her temper.

“Not sure,” said Lo, right back at her, “will you be exercising the dogs?  They look like they have a lot of pent-up energy.”

“Only Bandit.  Shadow is looking spent from burying his bone yesterday.”

Lo was about to say something when Jim joined us wearing only his bathing suit.

“Morning!” he said cheerfully oblivious to all the tension.

At the sight of him, Suzanne stood up and said that she was going to run the wash so that she will have a clean comforter in case it gets cold tonight.  She added, “Anything you’d like me to wash?  I’m sure you’re eager to get home, but if I can help you clean up.”

“Was it something I said?” asked Jim, suddenly sensing the chill in the air.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Lilly.  “It’s Suzanne.  She’s still hungover from last night and she’s just darkening our day with her storm clouds.”  Lilly never referred to Suzanne as “Aunt Suzanne.”

Lilly rolled over on her back and proudly displayed her still virginal pussy.  Lo caught me stealing a glance at it.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she said more than asked.

Time to take my lumps, I thought.

I went with Lo to the front of the cottage and, before she could begin to scold me, I professed my innocence.

“Forget all that,” she said to my great surprise.  “I want to go.  Are you ready?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” I said.  “But what about Collin?  He’s not even up yet.”

As if he had heard me, he appeared in the front door saying, “There you two are!”  He was as genial as ever.  “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” said Lo, flatly.

“Good, good.  I’ll have breakfast ready in a little.”

“I think we’re just going to get on the road,” said Lo.

“Nonsense!  It’s a long drive back.  I can’t let you leave on an empty stomach.”

There was no denying Collin when he was hospitable.

“HH, will you help me get some wood?  I think we’ll cook breakfast over the fire.”

I went with Collin to the wood stack and along the way he said, “You know HH, Lo has been nothing but kind to me.  I am sorry that I have to apologize for my wife and the way she has treated Lo.  I would love to see you both again.”

“That’s all up to Lo,” I said.  “I don’t make those sorts of decisions for her.  She’s her own woman, you know.”

“Oh, I know.  And what a woman she is!”

“You don’t know the half of it, I’m sure.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“One day Lo might let you in.  But, until then, just use your imagination.”

For once, Collin seemed speechless!  Advantage HH!!!

“I like a little game,” he said.

Game on!

After that, there was not much more to report.  The six of us had breakfast.  Collin tried to figure out the riddle I had hinted to him about Lo.  Suzanne insisted that Lo return soon “because the dogs are just crazy about you. . . and so am I!”

With a peck on the cheek, Suzanne wished Lo and me safe travels.  Collin gave me a firm handshake.  Too firm.  He hugged Lo affectionately.  Too affectionately and too long.

Then Lo and I were off in our car back to the city.  Along the way she filled me in on all the details that were missing from my knowledge of the week and that I have just relayed to you, dear reader.

It was a lot for me to take in, but luckily it was a long and bucolic drive.  After her stories were at an end, we both settled into a pensive silence.  I was thinking about how, no if I could write these stories.  It would be a tall order.  A real challenge.

Lola Ready for Action

I began to ponder, what’s this blog about?  What am I writing about when I write about my sex life with Lola?  It’s about sex, yes.  That much is clear.  But it’s really about so much more than that.  It’s about psychology.  About Lo’s psychology, for sure.  But, more than that, it’s about the psychology of women.  For years of my long life, women were the cliché mystery wrapped in an enigma sporting a thong and a bra.  But then I met Lo and everything changed.  She, more than anyone I’ve ever met, opened up – in more ways than one – and let me in, let me explore, let me discover, let me uncover, let me wander.  The more I sought, the more seemed hidden.  She has depths beneath her depths and her surfaces are sublime.  I’m fascinated and intoxicated by her charisma, power of seduction, and her embrace of her inner slut.

The reason why I can write seemingly endless tomes about Lo, besides the raw material that she provides, is that there is no end to the psychological speculation that manifests in the physical enactment of her libidinous expressions of love and lust.

As I sat silently pondering these fleeting reflections, Lo began squirming out of her short shorts and pink panties.

“Lo, what the?”

“Keep driving,” was all she said.  She began by fingering her clit.  She progressed to penetrating her cunt.  Her bare feet went up on the dash and she spread her legs.  Her digital manipulation had escalated to an open hand slapping her pussy.  I had seen her do this before, many times, but this time there was something more violent about it.  It was as if she was punishing her pussy for being so sinful.  Slap, slap, smack, whap!  Down her open palm went sadistically spanking her vajayjay with unrelenting physical rebuke.  Masochistically, that very same cunt she was clobbering was simultaneously showing signs of sexual stimulation.  With each violent vaginal clap, I could hear her getting wet and each slap sounding more like a splash.

Her legs were spread as wide apart as they could be in the confined space.  Her left foot was close to the steering wheel and her right up in the corner by the passenger side window.  From between her legs she suddenly let out a long, forceful spray straight up onto the windshield coinciding with a loud, “FUUUUUUUCK!”

When she was done and her legs were crossed and her breathing heavy, but not panting, I simply said to her, “You know, I didn’t get the interior windshield wiper option when I bought this car.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” she said, using her shorts to mop up the mess.

Once we were back home, I, with a new understanding of Collin and his predicament, took some pity on the old chap.  In my moment of sympathy, I ordered a larger than life photograph of Lo for him to add to his art collection.  A few weeks later, when he had received it, he sent back a photo.  He had mounted it just above his bed.  I guess that was his mount bliss.  Collin finally did mount Lo in the end.

Collin Finally Mounts Lo