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Erica Garza Exposes Herself

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Lola and Erica Garza’s Getting Off

We are incredibly pleased to share with you all Lola’s exclusive interview with the writer and sex-positive advocate, Erica Garza!

In case you don’t know, Erica Garza is the author of a beautiful memoir, published in 2018, about her struggle with shame, sex, and self-pleasure/self-punishment: Getting Off: One Woman’s Journey Through Sex and Porn Addiction.  I had heard about it and immediately recognized a soul-sister and got the book.  I read it cover-to-cover in one night – a night punctuated by masturbatory intermissions.  HH found it hidden in the closet (how appropriate) one day and that turned into a little story he wrote about our trip to a wedding.

Other people found our blog through Erica and Erica through our blog.  Erica and I struck up a friendship and recently I interviewed her to find out some of the things that left me panting for more after putting the book down.

Erica Garza and her book, Getting Off

 

L – Your book starts off with the passage: “My favorite porn scene of all time involves two sweaty women, fifty horny men, a warehouse, a harness, a hair dryer, and a taxicab.”  You go on to say, no matter how you imagine these elements interacting, “I bet you still can’t imagine just how revolting the scene actually is.” At the end of the book, you are talking to your boyfriend, soon to be husband (spoiler alert!), and he asks you about your favorite porn.  You realize that to tell him about this “revolting” scene is dangerous.  But telling him was necessary in your journey from sexual shame, guilt, and deception to self-love, acceptance, and honesty.  You realize that your greatest fear is “being exposed.”  Not as in being naked in front of others, even strangers, but being seen, for who you really are, as a compulsive masturbator who gets off to the revolting.  I mention all this because, did you know, that when one does a Google search for “porn, two women, fifty men, warehouse, harness, hair dryer, taxicab,” you pop up as one of the top hits?  (After this interview goes live, mysexlifewithlola will probably be the top hit.)  Seems like your book was an exercise in “exposing yourself.”  How does that make you feel now?

E – You are 100% correct. My book, essays, and interviews are all exercises in exposing myself in the same way as telling my husband about my favorite porn and baring my soul to a room full of addicts at a 12 step meeting. Every time I reveal the things about myself that I used to hate and keep secret, I’m taking the power away from those feelings and transferring that power back to me. Every time I utter a secret aloud and people nod their heads in recognition, I feel less alone, more connected, and more at peace with myself. The things I’m into and the things I’ve done are not so bad, I’ve realized. And that means I’m not so bad either.

L – Your book is dedicated to, “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed.”  Isn’t that all of us at some point in our lives at least?

The author, Erica Garza

E –Totally. I’ve had a lot of different people connect with my story who come from entirely different backgrounds. I’m a 41-year-old Latina from Los Angeles who was raised in a Catholic household, but I’ve been contacted by readers ranging from 12 to 70, men and women, of all different ethnicities, religions, and income brackets. So many of them had the same story: They grew up thinking sex was bad and they hated themselves for enjoying their sexual proclivities in secret. Like me, they were desperate for self-acceptance but didn’t know how to find it. This desperation usually led to destructive and compulsive behaviors and broken relationships. Had we just been taught that there was nothing wrong with us from the start—would that have changed everything? Would we be happier people? I think yes.

L – Throughout the book you mention how you would often bring yourself to orgasm by thinking about “what a miserable slut I am.”  Can you explain a bit more how this thought got you off?

E – Shame and pleasure are intricately connected for me. When I first masturbated to orgasm in the bathtub at age 12, I distinctly remember how good it felt and yet how bad I felt once it was over. Nobody had ever talked to me about sex except to say it was something dirty and wrong and so I had this heavy feeling I had discovered something I wasn’t supposed to. And I LOVED it, which made me sick and defective. The only solution to these bad feelings was to go after the pleasure again, reinforcing this intoxicating dichotomy. Later, I would seek out porn that gave me this dose of pleasure and shame, typically scenes of degradation. To be turned on, I had to be turned off, disgusted with myself. This then transferred over to my relationships. I wanted men to make me feel used in bed, demeaned, and then discarded afterward.

L – Your book is fascinating because it’s not only a personal coming-of-age story, but it also tracks the development of on-line porn.  You talk about watching porn on VHS with your brother’s girlfriend and sneaking sex chats on-line right in front of your parents, then you chronicle the first porno sites on the internet right up to the proliferation of humiliation, extreme BDSM, and more.  It’s like you grew up with porn and the porn industry grew up with you.  Your book is also unusual as a memoir because it contains a lot of footnotes to studies and research about the effects of porn and women self-reporting about their use of porn.  What is your take on porn’s popularity now and how women in particular use it.  I guess, I’m thinking especially of OnlyFans and the many women during the pandemic who found ways of becoming entrepreneurs (or “entrepornors”).

OF Content Creator StrawberryWine @swtlikestrawber

E – I’m here for it. I find OnlyFans to be a fantastic addition to the porn world because it allows women to be in charge of their own content. Sure, we have many more female porn producers/directors, but I think it’s safe to say it’s still a male dominated industry when it comes to who’s operating the camera. I’m excited to see women taking initiative in making porn as long as they’re not merely perpetuating what they think men want. But I’m even more excited about women as viewers. I’m not sure about how many women are turning to OnlyFans for porn, but it would be fascinating data. If more women talked about what we like and what we want and what we’re willing to pay for, the less shame we’ll feel about our desires.

It’s funny you say I grew up with the porn industry and the porn industry grew up with me. It’s so accurate. And while I’m not anti-porn (unless the porn is made without someone’s consent of course), I do worry about what kids have access to when they’re just starting to explore their sexuality. When I was 12 and first started masturbating and looking at porn, I only had access to softcore scenes on Cinemax. They were so mild and still left a lot of room for my imagination. And when I advanced to watching porn online, scenes took so long to load so I couldn’t get caught up in a binge—endlessly searching for a harder, darker, sexier scene than the last. It was too much effort. Now the internet is at a place where a 12 year old could look up “two women, fifty men, a warehouse, a harness, hair dryer, and a taxicab,” or any other hardcore scene. And this is the new mild. Once they get bored with that, they can instantly search for something harder but they haven’t even discovered sex in real life yet. When they do start to explore with someone, their idea of what sex should look or feel like is likely to be distorted. They’ll probably end up performing; instead of naturally discovering what they like or what feels good, their desires will have been finely curated by whatever they had access to. I think this could be really damaging.

Porn Star Shannon Tweed

Dreaming of Shannon Tweed and Lola Down

L – You mention being enamored of such VHS stars as Shannon Tweed, and lusting for Tommy Lee’s long shlong, Pamela Anderson’s tits, and the power Gwyneth Paltrow’s character of Estella had over Finn in Great Expectations.  Does anyone come to mind today as either a quick fap fave, a girl-crush, or a role model?

Gwyneth Paltrow

E –Besides you, Lola? 😉 I don’t watch porn much these days (which is so weird to say), but when I do I like Megan Salinas who I’m not sure even performs anymore. I think her videos are a few years old. My girl crushes are always evolving though I just finished watching White Lotus so the Italian actress Simona Tabasco (Lucia) comes to mind. I’m also inspired by Paulina Porizkova who is nearly 60 and so hot and comfortable in her skin without looking plastic.

Scene from White Lotus Season II

L – You say, “In all the movies I’d ever watched, men were the ones who made the first move.  Women, it seemed, either played hard to get and were labeled dick-teasing prudes, or they quickly gave in and were called sluts and whores.”  This is the old Freudian dichotomy of Virgin/Whore.  For a long time, it seemed that either/or was the only choice society or culture presented for women.  If you were young, you were either a virgin or a whore.  If you were older, you were either matronly or a whore.  Women could never be both.  What do you think of the movement to reclaim the word “slut” from being a pejorative to a badge of honor?

Megan Salinas

Simona Tabasco

Paulina Porizkova is a dirty girl

Paulina Porizkova wins the solitary mud-wrestling prize

Paulina Porizkova – wash me!

Paulina Porizkova like a fine wine

E –We’re making some progress with more women being open about their sex lives but we still have a long way to go, especially in the U.S. This country is so ridiculously misogynistic. Just scroll through the comments section of any article written about a woman’s love life and the evidence is in plain view.

L – Along those same lines, one thing I’ve encountered, even with my man, HH, is people saying, “Wow, you have the libido of a man.”  Isn’t that also a double-standard?  I mean, men who do or did the things you did are just “guys being guys,” but a woman doing it is somehow labeled with a disorder and many of them feel guilt and shame about it.  But if you were a man, would you feel that sort of shame or guilt?

E –The only solution to this is for more women to speak up. But to speak about what you want and need sexually requires self-awareness. If you’ve been taught that sex is shameful, it’s possible you ended up in a cycle of repression. You don’t even know what you like anymore and if you do, you’re keeping that to yourself. The more honest and comfortable women are about their sexuality, the more we’ll see that men and women are more alike than we think.

L – I love when you talk about the power that Gwyneth Paltrow had over Finn.  Do you think that writing your book was a way of reclaiming your feminine sexual power?

Female Sexual Power

E – Absolutely. When I first suspected I had an addiction to sex and porn, I thought I had to put myself in a box to be “recovered.” I would never watch porn again, I’d go to 12 step meetings, I’d only be in a monogamous relationship. But that quickly started to feel inauthentic. It felt like an extension of my early childhood shame, like I was desperate to stop doing things that felt good. I realized that the driving force of my addiction all along was that shame. That’s when I started to explore how I could be a sexually open-minded, experimental person and not feel bad about it. This entailed not lying to myself and not lying to others, being open in my communication, and ultimately not thriving on destruction. Realizing I could be sexual without shame was an empowering revelation.

L – You talk about the sexy and nude photos and homemade porno movies you made with different boyfriends and the fear you have of those ever resurfacing.  Has that happened?  I mean, after the success and popularity of the book, one of your exes must have heard about it and read about you.  Did any of them come forward, either privately or publicly, with “naughty” goods?

E – Surprisingly, no! And I didn’t even use a pen name. I also expected past lovers to reach out and comment on the book, ESPECIALLY if I wrote explicitly about them! But it never happened. No videos have ever resurfaced (yet!) though I would be curious to see that younger version of myself tbh.

L – You say that your “preferences were changing all the time.  I loved ‘old and young’ clips.  I’d also taken a liking to watching drunken girls get walked around on leashes at parties or get fucked by groups of men while seemingly unconscious.  I’d discovered the category ‘bukkake’ and felt simultaneously disgusted and excited every time I watched multiple men come all over a girl’s face before urging her to lick up the drips that had fallen on the carpet beneath her.  I didn’t consider any of this normal.”  It wouldn’t exist if people didn’t watch it.  I mean, what is normal anyway?

E – Who knows. That line of thinking came from a place of deep shame and self-disgust and judgement. I felt so isolated and broken in this shame and couldn’t imagine anyone else would understand. But, like I said, if more women spoke up about what they liked and what they’re into, the less alone people like me would feel.

L – I love the passage where you combine what you learned meditating with your active imagination.  You say, “Suddenly I was the girl on the shore of that river I’d imagined in meditation.  I watched a boat come by with a skinny blond college girl spread-eagle on its main deck getting fucked by a whole fraternity.  And then another boat where a girl on a leash was held facedown by a man’s boot while another man fucked her from behind.  Each time I came, I returned to my breath.”  When you’re done, you admit to yourself that you’re “out of control.”  For people wondering, how would you characterize unhealthy from healthy masturbatory practices or porn viewing?

Role Models

E –That’s not up to me to say. Each person’s experience is different. For me, feeling incapable of stopping seemed to be a clue. Even when I felt sore or numb. Finding that I’d wasted hours trying to find the perfect clip, especially if it meant neglecting other plans or responsibilities was another. Failing to nurture real relationships or friendships in pursuit of another orgasm also seemed problematic.

L – At one point you talk about a guy you were with and how when you ran out of things to talk about or it got awkward, you reached for “what I’d always reached for to help me with the awkwardness.  I initiated sex whenever I felt things getting weird.  I was tireless with blow jobs, encouraging him to come on my face, begging him to slap me, to fuck me harder, to hurt me, to do whatever he wanted, playing the role of the perfect, pleasing porn girl.”  Do you think that your exposure to hard-core porn led you to believe that this was what men wanted, or was it a thrill and a turn-on to play this role?  I mean, so much in life is role playing, including sex and it can be fun.  And sometimes it can be difficult to disentangle where your own desire ends and trying to meet the desire of someone else begins.  Or maybe there is no clear distinction.

E –I think it’s all about balance. If your fetish is that you’re into degradation, rough sex, humiliation, role play, then why not? You do what feels good, but then at some point you leave the bedroom and life goes on. For me, that degradation leaked out of the bedroom and into real life. I didn’t just expect a guy to make me feel used and demeaned in bed as roleplay, I also expected him to ignore my calls, say abusive things, and lie to me afterward. I did not feel worthy of love and respect, so when someone tried to give those things to me I’d run away and destroy the relationship. But I desperately wanted love and respect. I felt lonely and isolated and the only company I could keep was sexual company. What was friendship? What was intimacy? What was connection? I wanted to know these things but had no idea how.

L – Was there anything that you had originally written for the book that the editor or publisher asked you to remove?

E – The footnotes were originally integrated into the text, but they were found to be distracting. They were almost cut out completely but I really wanted to keep them in. The research proved that what I was going through (and what my reader might be going through) was way more common than most people think. So many of our struggles are universal, yet we feel so alone much of the time. I hoped that the research would show readers they’re not simply “fucked up,” but that there’s likely a scientific explanation behind their feelings and actions.

L – As I mentioned, your memoir is intertwined with the historical development of internet porn.  One of the positive things I see about that development is that a lot of people, especially women, trans folk, and others have been able to connect with communities out there and realize that they’re not alone, not the “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed” to whom you dedicated the book, but that they are part of humanity in all its beautifully multifarious forms.  HH, because he’s older, frequently tells me that so much of what is normal human activity was totally in the closet when he was younger, especially female masturbation.  One thing that the internet porn might have influenced is the normalization of women pleasuring themselves.  I mean, once upon a time you never saw it, but it’s now part of so many popular shows and movies – Sex & the City, Seinfeld, Weeds, Fleabag, SMILF, New Girl, The Shape of Water, Sex Education, Broad City, just to name a few.  Women are sexual beings.  We can be students, moms, daughters, sisters, wives, bosses, and also get off without going to Hell.  Do you think that girls growing up today are exposed to a healthier view of women’s sexuality than when you grew up?

SMILF with Frankie Shaw Look Carefully and you’ll see what gets Frankie Shaw off.

SMILF

Frankie Shaw asks, “Do you like my poster of Lola Down?”

Frankie Shaw in SMILF in a scene where she gets off to Lola Down

E – Yes, our entertainment has become more inclusive and I love seeing these realistic, multi-dimensional folks be represented. But let’s not forget that Roe v. Wade just got overturned, which has everything to do with female sexuality and bodily autonomy. Sexism still exists because the wage gap still exists, because doctors still gaslight women, because we still haven’t elected a female president…and so forth. These things may seem unrelated to  women masturbating, but the personal is political. It always has been. Female pleasure is powerful and people are afraid of this power. Women and lots of marginalized folks are still socialized to believe our pleasure doesn’t matter. And d this has huge implications. I’m so inspired by pleasure activism, specifically the work by author adrienne maree brown who ways capitalism creates a “false scarcity” of pleasurable experiences for the marginalized. We’re taught that “our health, our votes, our work, our safety, our families, our lives don’t matter – not as much as those of white men.” Simply put, being denied pleasure makes us easier to control. So, yes, I get excited when I see female characters on our TV set pursuing personal pleasure just as male characters always have, but I won’t be satisfied until I see those larger equalities at play in other aspects of our lives.

L – Toward the end of the book, after you met the man who would become your husband, and after you began writing publicly about your struggles and began being honest with him and yourself about your past, you begin to find some balance or at least a temporary truce with your inner demons, for lack of a better description.  If I’m not getting too personal, how much of your past plays a role in your present?  Or, another way of asking that is, do you and your husband enjoy “getting off” to some of your past sexcapades?  Does he find it sexy to hear about, or is it something that you two avoid?

Erica – Take me as I am

E – My husband does not like hearing about my sexual past. Not because he’s judgmental or embarrassed or possessive, it just doesn’t turn him on I guess. I’ve written about us going to a swingers resort where we we explored quite a bit and enjoyed ourselves, but he didn’t like watching me with other men. And I didn’t really watch him either, which is weird because I do sometimes fantasize about him sleeping with other women. I just haven’t felt the need to watch the real thing happen. Sometimes, the fantasy is hotter.

L – In 2015, in an article you wrote for narratively.com, you said, “Masturbating beside my husband while he sleeps is the last secret I’ve kept from him.  Although I’m beginning to fear that it’s actually just the latest secret.  My resistance in telling him only proves how fragile recovery is.  This week it’s masturbation.  But maybe next week it’s back to porn binging.  Or obsessive scrolling through Craigslist personals.  Or lying about my whereabouts.  And so forth.  Abstaining from these habits, when so readily available, without abstaining from sexual pleasure completely, or the shame I’ve long bound to it, is a challenge I face daily.”  Looking back on that now, how have you fared over the past seven years?

E – It has been a rollercoaster of up and downs. Of me (and us) figuring out what we like and what we don’t, what’s right for us and what’s off limits, what feels safe and what feels dangerous or destructive. But I like the process. Humans evolve and so do our sex lives and I’m grateful to be with someone I could be 100% honest with.

L – What is your sexual life like now – I mean, with yourself and with your partner or partners?  In the book you seem open to threesomes and other non-monogamous situations.  Have you found a way that works for you individually and you as a couple?

E – We’re open minded but not in an open relationship. So while we do experiment with others, we only do so as a couple. Honesty is sacred to us. We always have conversations before we do anything with anyone else and then we have conversations after that about what we will or won’t do next time.

L – In some articles you wrote after the book came out, you talk about going to nudist resorts with your husband and having “soft-swaps.”  You also mention “relapsing” after marriage and sneaking off to masturbate to porn – at least until you came home one day and caught him doing the same thing.  Then you lifted the prohibition you had on porn in your relationship and found out something surprising – you two could integrate it into your lives together.  Can you talk about that balance?  I mean, unlike drug and alcohol addiction, you can’t really ever cut sex, sexuality, or sexual fantasy out of your life 100%.  No one is a tee-total reformed sex addict, because we, as human beings, are sexual beings.  How have you and your husband been able to navigate that?

E— Unless you’re joining a convent, you’re going to have to find a way to integrate sex (and maybe porn) back into your life in a healthy way. For me, I know the difference between when I’m watching porn to escape a difficult feeling or watching because I simply want to, because it feels good. It’s a fine line and takes a lot of self awareness but it’s possible.

L – In an article you once wrote about the difficulty of being a porn-addicted feminist.  You said, “You want to stop because the hypocrisy is so intense it makes you nauseous.  You call yourself a feminist, an activist, a conscious citizen, but then you watch women get walked around on leashes and your panties get soaked through. . . [and] you’ll scan over all the gangbangs and golden showers, convinced (or at least hopeful) that your sickness isn’t a sickness, but a natural fascination.”  That was in 2016, three years after Belle Knox, a.k.a. Miriam Weeks, was outed as the Duke University porn star and she defended her decisions as her form of feminism.  Since then many women have made names and careers for themselves in porn – both in front of the camera and behind it – and have promoted ethical porn and feminist porn.  What’s your take on the possibility that porn and feminism are not mutually exclusive?

E – Bodily autonomy and consent is everything. If a woman wants to be a sex worker, she should be allowed to do that. It’s her body. If a woman is coerced into sex work and she feels she has no other choice, that is an entirely different thing.

L – Something I love about the book is your frequent literary references.  In addition to porn, you clearly have an affinity for literature.  Some favorite authors, books, or movies you go back to frequently?

E – I don’t often reread books, but when I do, it’s usually A Moveable Feast because I find Paris and Hemingway both sexy as hell. Otherwise I feast myself on memoirs, biographies, journals, anything confessional and real. Right now I’m reading (and adoring) I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jeanette McCurdy, who also had some familiar conflicted feelings about sex and love and her body.

L – A little self-indulgent inquiry now.  You reached out to me recently and hinted that you’ve been reading the blog.  Are we – HH and me – a part of your sexual fantasy life or your erotic life with your husband?  Be honest.

E – For now, your blog is a solitary pleasure. I’m not ready to share you yet 😉

“Don’t be. Erica Garza says you’re just a woman with a healthy libido.”

Protected: A Few Tricks, A Little Treat – Andrew and Jane at it Again!

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Thanksgiving Special with Bunny and Teddy!

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Erotic Writers – Bunny & Teddy, a.k.a. BunsesTedses getting off to mysexlifewithlola

Bunny and Teddy, a.k.a. BunsesTedses, are a sexy age gap couple like us. They also are a damn good dynamic duo of erotic authors.

They started by writing erotica for each other as a way of preserving their memories of the sexcapades they got up to together.

A few years ago they moved to Medium (which is where we found them) and they were so popular that they took their writing to the Kindle store.

In their flash erotica compilations you can learn all the secrets of a fine doggy, get inspiration about places in the kitchen where to do it, and even travel with them to naked beaches and spas. (Steamy stuff!)

To celebrate the hard won honor of this guest post and to give some thanks around Thanksgiving to all their fans (old and new), they have made several of their books available to download for free! (Only for a limited time!)

Check them out here:

https://amazon.com/s?i=digital-text&rh=p_27%3ABunses+Tedses

Tell me your fantasy.

Imitation is the Best Form of Flattery

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Art by Al

The perennial question: Does art imitate life or life imitate art?

“Daddy,” Lo said, as she was lying down in bed.  It was one of those rare mornings that she woke up before I and was already engaged in her favorite activity – pleasuring herself to something on her phone – “I’m reading ‘Paint me like one of your slutty girls,’ and I want you to know how much your writing turns me on.”

“That’s nice, Lo,” I said, slowly opening my eyes.

She was in her red top and matching red bottom satin pajamas, one hand down between her legs under the satin, the other holding her phone.

“You know,” I said further, “that story has nothing to do with me.”

“Yes, but you wrote it.”

“About you and your admirer and his obsession with you.”

“That’s what I love about it.”

She brought her hand out from under her satin shorts and licked her fingers before replacing her hand on her crotch.

I reached my left hand over and placed it between her legs so I could feel her fingers moving and her hand pumping up and down as she inserted her fingers to her hole.  I tried to slide my hand under her satin bottoms and she said, “Uh uh.  Only over.”

I relented and resigned myself to merely feeling her feeling herself.

She dropped her phone and pulled her tits up and over the V-cut of her top and said, “Suck them, Daddy,” which I did.

“Pull my nipples, Daddy.”  I did that as well.  She orgasms quite easily to the feeling of pain caused by pulling and pinching her nipples.

She moaned.

“What’s got your engine revving so this morning?”

“I told you,” she whispered in a breathy sigh, “I was reading. . . your story.”

“And?”

“And Al sent me a drawing of what he would like to do.”

“What is that?”

“It’s a drawing of him and his wife in bed, getting off to my photos on their TV.”

“Oh, I see.”

“He wishes he could tell his wife that he has been jackin’ off to me regularly for months now.  He wishes he could tell her what a slut I am – that I like to go A-to-M and A-to-P and P-to-M and P-to-A-to-M.”

Before speaking I thought that if the Secret Service ever needed a code name for Lo, it would be: MAP PAM

“Yes, you are a dirty slut.”

“Say it again, Daddy.”

“You are. . . ,” but before I could say it, she was back to Al.

“He wants to tell his wife about me, about how I’m a hotwife and sleep with men and women.  He wants to have her read the books and blog and get her to do the same.  He wants her to fuck other guys in the bed next to him.”

She came in a gush of good feeling.  I felt it wash over my hand.

As she was recovering, I looked at her phone.

“Lo, that’s not a painting,” I said.

She opened her eyes.  “Oh, that?  No.  That’s from Jane and Andrew.  I sent them Al’s art and, guess what?!  They reproduced it in real life!  And they improved upon it.  Look at Andrew!  He’s locked in his cage.  And look what else!”

Andrew & Jane

She used her dry hand to enlarge the photo so I could see that Andrew and Jane had printed up art of Lola and framed it around their television.  “Isn’t that amazing!”

“You are a sexual celebrity.”

“A tempter for Andrew’s celibacy!”

“I sure hope he’s not celibate with a wife that sexy!”

“Maybe they both cum to you when she gives him permission.”

“I want him to look at my photos and lose control and cum even in his cock-cage.”

She saw my cock twitching under the sheets.  “Oh, Daddy, do you need to cum?”

“When I see you like that, I do,” I said, which wasn’t the whole truth.  I am actually even more turned on by her voice, her tone, her moan, and her dirty talk than by seeing her.  She could make me cum over the phone, which she has actually done many times.

Art from Al

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Stroke me.”

She grabbed the hand lotion next to her on the nightstand and put it in the palm of her left hand.  “Give me that cock,” she said.

She wrapped her hand around my hard rod and the cool cream made me even more hard than before.  She began sliding her cupped hand up and down my shaft.  She slid her palm down to my balls and cupped them before moving even further down.

“You like how life imitates art?”

Andrew and Jane

I couldn’t answer.  She knew why.  “You’re going to cum,” she observed.  “Where do you want to cum?”

“You tell me,” was all I could say.

“My face.”

At those words, I pulled back and got up, straddling her torso, grabbing my throbbing organ and coaxed my creative juices to climax, baptizing the crown of her head in hot white spurts that dripped down her face.  She licked around her mouth and said, “I bet Al would like to show his wife how I do that too.”

“Maybe he’ll paint you like a Mona Lisa drenched under a dripping Jackson Pollock.”

“Classic, abstract, and pornographic all at once.  I like that!”

“You should, it describes you perfectly.”

Imitation #1

Imitation #2

Protected: “Paint me like one of your slutty girls.”

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Op-Ed from the Politico-Parody Press

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Breaking News: Sanna Marin, the thirty-six year old, female, Finnish prime minister had fun!

Prime Minister of Finland Sanna Marin

Yes, there is evidence and she has even confessed to it publicly.  At a news conference, she admitted to being “boisterous” with her friends at a party.  Subsequently, a photo of two women, kissing, and revealing their breasts, though covered by a sign that said “Finland,” appeared on the TikTok of Sabina Särkkä, a thirty-three year old “influencer” and friend of the Finnish prime minister.  She was one of the two women engaged in the now infamous kiss/flash, though Sanna Marin was not the unknown second woman.

This appalling, immoral scandal raises serious political questions, not only for Finland, but for us all across the globe.  If women must be politicians and national leaders, where are the respectable, upright, joyless, sexless prime ministers such as Margaret Thatcher, Angela Merkel, and Golda Meir?  They didn’t party.  They didn’t dance.  And they certainly didn’t pose for an official photoshoot in just a pantsuit and jacket, no bra, with a neckline that goes down to the navel!

Do you see cleavage on Sanna Marin?

Ever since the United States Food and Drug Administration approved contraceptive pills, or “the Pill,” in 1960, it would seem that women were given license to enjoy sex without consequences, that is, to be licentious.  Historically, for millennia, that right was the exclusive province of men.  And so, in the face of such unabashed enjoyment by the female sex – that has had many other culture-controverting effects such as women in the workplace, in the armed forces, and even in politics! – it is entirely appropriate to censure Sanna Marin for her public display of enjoyment, even if she was enjoying in private.

Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin visits the Rogue’s Gallery, before a portrait of the author, HH.

Women enjoy dancing, singing, and displaying their breasts has the desultory implication that they may also enjoy sex.  This cannot be!  Such heresy to the patriarchal hierarchy that has existed since the dawn of civilization must be excoriated from our society.  To that end, we are beginning to see the pendulum shift in the other direction.  In America, the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization has put an end to the formerly constitutionally protected right for a woman to obtain an abortion.  There are many new laws that have either been passed or at least proposed to make it illegal to purchase, sell, or mail contraceptives and/or “abortion pills.”  A few states are making it illegal for parents of so-called “transgender” youth to seek gender reassignment surgery and/or for doctors to perform it.  States such as Texas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Utah, and Florida have passed or proposed laws censoring books deemed “sexually explicit,” “obscene materials,” “sensitive materials,” and “pornography.”

To this end, America should reinstate the Comstock Act, criminalizing using the U.S. Postal Service to mail any obscenity, contraceptives, abortifacients, or sex toys and authorizes the postal service to confiscate birth control sold through the mail.  That will teach women that sex is not something to be enjoyed!

Is it really surprising that Sanna Marin has exhibit such behavior?  After all, she is a woman who is the product of divorce and was raised by two women in a loving relationship.  Perhaps it is due to this lesbian influence that Marin was recently spotted at a preview for the scandalous art exhibit, the Rogue’s Gallery, featuring the notorious nymphomaniac and porno-star, Lola Down.  If ever a woman took pleasure, delight, and enjoyment in the act of sex – whether between her and a man, her and many men, her and a woman, her and many women, her and women and men, or with herself (most often) – it is Lola Down.  The whole exhibit should be shut down and confiscated as deplorable depictions of degenerate art!  Most damning of all, Sanna Marin is reputed to have said about the Rogue’s Gallery that it was “stimulating to both mind and body.”

Need I say more?

Prime Minister of Finland visits a preview of the Rogue’s Gallery and admires the paintings and drawings depicting Lola Down

Anti-Lola protester

Pro-Lo supporter of sex for women

A Chance Encounter with a Unicorn

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[Guest Post by Lola’s new friends – SnowCplCo]

SnowCpleCo

We were driving across the country for the holidays and, as dusk was descending and T was growing tired, we pulled into the first motel on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere that we found.  I was walking the two dogs, who were eager to get out after so long in the back seat, while hubby was unloading bags.  The dogs suddenly stopped and directed my attention toward an attractive brunette walking in a short black dress and turquoise heels.  Mysteriously, the dogs were as captivated by her as I was.  This petite, yet confident “girl next door” walked up to me and asked if it was ok to pet the dogs.  Though they were stir-crazy from the drive, they are friendly and I said that they’d love it.  She leaned over to pet them and I could see right down the open neckline of her dress.  She had nice tits.  No bra.  Young.  Perky.  I was getting wet as I stood there, gawking at her.  I tried making small talk.  She crouched down to continue petting the dogs, as I stood over her.  It was impossible to not see down her dress from that angle.

As we were chatting, she saw hubby grab a bottle of bubbly and bourbon from the car. She said “Oh, I’m so ready for glass of wine after driving all day.”

I responded, “Wine time never comes quick enough on road trips.”  We kept talking for a bit and she asked if we would mind if she joined us for a glass because she hadn’t talked to anyone all day.  I said, “Sure, but it has to be in our room due to the dogs.”

She was game and we made our introductions.  She introduced herself as Lola. We agreed to meet about an hour later. I told hubby when I got back to the room and he said, “There goes our playtime then.”  He had been horny and wanting me the entire drive.

I responded with, “She’s not going to be here all night.  We’ll still get to play.  Promise.”

Lola came over and we sat around the small room and chatted with the conversation going all over the place.  A few glasses into it, she said that she better get back to her room.  It was clear she was merely being polite.  To my surprise and arousing a bit of jealousy that I didn’t even know I had, hubby asked her to stay for one more glass.  She agreed, but said, “Before I have any more, I have a little work to do.  Do you mind if I go grab my laptop?”

“Not at all,” said T.

A minute later she popped back into our room and sat at the tiny desk.

“What kinda work are you doing?” asked T.

“Just updating our blog.”

Hubby, trying desperately to turn the friendly chatter into a sexy seduction, said in a joking way, “What, like your OnlyFans page?”

She looked over at him, smirking, and said “Something like that.”

Hubby said back to Lola, “I bet a pretty, young, flirtatious girl like you makes a thousand dollars a day on the internet.”

“Hardly,” laughed Lola.  “I do it just for fun, actually.”

“Wait,” I said, “you mean he’s right?!  You do have an OnlyFans page?”

Lo laughed even more and said, “Well, no, not OnlyFans.  Just a sex blog that my man and I run.”

“Oh!” said hubby, “I can’t believe it!  I’ve been waiting all day to get to work on content with her for ours page!”

Lola looked very surprised and said “Really! You two don’t seem like the type!”

“I could say the same about you,” I said.

We talked a little more about it before I suggested, “I’ll show you my page if you show me yours?”

That was all it took for T.  He had his laptop out so quick!  We looked at each other’s pages and hers was incredible!  We go by Snow CoupleCO and she seemed to like what she saw of us too.  I then asked if she wanted help making content and winked at hubby.  She paused a bit and looked at us.  “Really?”

“Yeah, it could be fun.”

“OK, but no photos.”  She was concerned about remaining anonymous.

“Deal.”

“I’m going to freshen up,” she said, “It’s been a long drive today.”

“OK.  See you back here soon.”  I felt butterflies in my stomach, I was so excited.  While she was out showering and, I think, shaving herself smooth, I took a quick shower as well.  When I came out, I found hubby jacking off to Lo’s photos.  I snapped a couple of pics but told him, “Keep it hard, Mr. Roadtrip McLovin!”

Mr. T – Roadtrip McLovin

When Lola came back, gone was the girl next door and here stood a pro porn star!  You would never recognize her.  “You really are ‘the nympho next door!’” I said.

Lo was wearing a sheer white top that reminded me of boudoir wedding photos I had seen once.  But adorning her neck was a black leather collar, like a dog’s collar, that said “SLUT” in diamond studs.  She wore a short black skirt that barely covered the bottom of her ass and black leather boots to match.

Lo Looking Like a Slutty Bride

“Before we get to playing, there’s a dive bar attached to this rundown motel.  How about the three of us go in there and see what happens?”

I was very game, but I had a better idea in mind.

“I just caught my husband masturbating to your photos,” I said.  A sparkle of vanity flashed in Lo’s eyes as she looked first at my hubby’s face and then at his crotch.  “He must be hard-up for you,” I continued.  Lo’s tongue ran across her teeth as she looked desirously at him.  “Do you think you could help him out before we go there?”

“Help him out, how?” she asked.

“Get on your knees,” I commanded.

She obeyed immediately.  I reached over and pulled out T’s bulging hard cock from his pants.  I held it in my hand.  “There you go, hun,” I said to him.  “Do it.  Cum on her face.”

He took control of his cock and stroked fast.  He looked at me, looked at Lo longing for his dick in her mouth.  He looked at me again.  He looked down at Lo and came on her face.  It was the fastest I’ve seen him cum in ages!

Lo’s cheeks and chin were dripping with his cum.  I had to hold the dogs back to keep them from licking her clean.

“OK, now we can go.”

“You want me to go like this?”

“Exactly.”

“OK, but let’s make it more interesting.  My man and I play a little game like this a lot.  You walk in first.  Then I’ll walk in and join you.  T walks in last and has to sit away from us.  Let’s see who has the courage to pick us up.”

I was giddy with excitement.

We walked down the motel line to the bar at the end.  It was a sleepy little bar in the middle of nowhere that mostly accommodated travelers and lonely locals.

Lo walked in first looking like a used prostitute.  I followed, looking like a lonely housewife desperate for action.  I wore my tight jeans shorts, cowboy boots, and a blouse unbuttoned nearly to my navel.  No bra.

The few folks inside noticed our appearance right away.  I ordered a beer across the bar from Lola, who had ordered some sort of cocktail.

I then made my way over to her and pretended like we were meeting for the first time – which we had, only about two hours earlier.

A couple of middle-aged guys approached us and I noticed my husband walk into the bar.  No one else, except maybe Lola, noticed him.

Both the guys who were talking to us had wedding bands on.

Eventually, in the dimness of the bar, one of the guys noticed the sheen on Lo’s face from my husband’s cum.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Beauty cream,” she said with a smile.

I leaned in and licked it, seductively, off of her face before making out with her.

The two guys were excited beyond belief.  I reached back with one hand and grabbed the cock of the guy sitting next to me.

Suddenly the grumpy old bartender told us to take it outside.  This wasn’t a brothel!

“You want to join us?” I asked the men.

They sure did!

Lo and I walked with them back to the room and the four of us went in.

It was really crowded in there now with the two dogs.

Lo and I stripped each other and started making out on the bed as the guys watched.

“Aren’t you going to join us?” asked Lo in a little girl sort of voice.

They guys began taking their clothes off, embarrassed to be seeing each other naked.

Just as they were about to approach us on the bed, T barged into the room and, in a performance worthy of an Oscar, he yelled, “What the hell are you doing?!”

The guys were shocked and quickly scrambled to put on their clothes.  In their haste, I think they might have even put on the other’s clothes by accident.

They got out of the room quick and we all had a laugh.

Lo began to work my clit ring and lips while sliding her tongue in and out.  I then felt her fingers entering me.  She had the perfect rhythm and I really began getting wet, feeling my juices drip down my ass.  Lola raised up my hips, smiled, and slid a finger in my ass.  I moaned, looking over at hubby, who now had his cock in his hand.  He was moderately hard, since he had cum so recently.  I grabbed Lo’s hips and slid her up to my face.  Instantly, she began grinding on my tongue.

We played pretty hard for a while before she whispered, “Can we invite your hubby?” Of course, I wasn’t going to say no.  So she lifted up her her face and, dripping with my cum now, told him, “Take the rest of your clothes off and get over here.”  We both went down on him while he was trying to keep the dogs off of us.  We took turns playing with him as he went from my ass to Lola’s mouth and back again and again.  Eventually, when Lola convinced me to do the same, he came, shooting a huge load in her ass before I cleaned him off with my mouth.  He poured us drinks and we laid on the bed with her in the middle petting each other.

. . .

Lo stood up and cum dripped down her inner thigh onto the cheap motel room carpeting.  She grabbed a glass of the bubbly to quench her thirst and picked up her clothes.

“I’ll let you two get some good sleep tonight.  Thanks for a fun time,” she said as she walked out into the parking lot stark naked.  We watched her saunter to her room and disappear inside.

I’m not sure if I was dreaming or not, but a few hours later I woke to the blood curdling sounds of what sounded like a murder, but, after close listening for a few moments, I realized, it was Lo’s screaming orgasm.

The next morning she continued on the road east as we continued west.  When we got home, first thing we did was order a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark.  We now get off to it nightly, fondly remembering our time with Lola Down – just your average nympho next door.

 

Snow getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

 

 

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Snow Getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

an extra bonus Christmas gift from Snow

Finding Lola – Three Covid Stories

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Covid Quarantine had a way of messing with our mental life.  It has been well documented that people reported having more intense dreams during the first lonely months of quarantine.  Since then, many people have experienced a strange time distortion when attempting to recall any sort of chronology.  Things basically fall into B.C. (“Before Covid”) and whatever it is that we’re living through now.  But placing events exactly on a timeline post-Covid is a bit wonky.

For us, Covid was a time when we made a lot of new friends virtually.  In order to help people through the forced “celibacy” of the quarantine (both single people and the people like us who are non-monogamous and so had to curtail their outside playtime) we started up our free books program where we sent a complimentary copy of Match, Cinder & Spark to friends, fans, and avid readers in exchange for their sending back to us a sexy photo of them with the book.  That was so much fun that we’ve continued it on a limited basis.  (Please request one via email if you’re interested.)

We heard from a lot of you out there in Lolaland and we continue to receive sexy missives from our beloved kinkster community.

This week we are going to feature three short stories sent to us by new and old friends.  Diving into Lola’s Letter Box, we are pleased to bring you a story about a single college student, a married couple, and sisters who learned a lot about each other in lockdown.

The first comes from Melissa, a college student who, like Grace, was stuck at home with her parents in the spring of 2020.  “At the time, it was the middle of my freshman year.  I’m a shy introvert, an voracious reader, a bookish nerd,” she says.

I also am a closeted nymphomaniac.  With limited tolerance for social interactions, I found that it was just easier to get off on my own.  In fact, that’s how I found your blog.  I was concerned about my internet porn binging and, by doing a search to find some way out of it, I came across Erica Garza’s book, Getting Off.  And not only did I come across it, I came to it and got off even more!  I couldn’t get off enough and so I did a deep dive (into my pussy and on the internet) until I found your post about ‘Her Porn Addiction’ and everything I read, except for Lo’s confidence and extroverted personality, sounded very familiar to me.

After that, she was hooked.  She became a regular reader of the blog for a while, but she was hungry for more.  Similar to Grace, she was afraid of ordering one of the books and having it arrive at her house, only for someone in her family to discover it and expose her.  So, she too found a way to get off during those isolating times though other means.  “I purchased all five volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark on audiobook and masturbated every night to the voice of Jupiter Grant reading the sexy stories while simultaneously scrolling through the photos of Lola on the blog.”

As we all remember so well, getting out during Covid Quarantine, even just to do shopping or go for a drive, was a big deal.  Melissa relayed that her favorite sexy thing to do was to up the stakes and take risks by getting in the car and playing the audiobook on the speakers while wearing a skirt with no panties and finger-fuck herself or dildo while driving.

Lying down in bed, masturbating naked was fine, but it didn’t have the interaction I craved.  I wanted to be around people.  Also, there’s a difference between hearing Jupiter Grant’s voice through the earbuds and hearing her through the car’s speakers.  Every chance I got, I borrowed my mom’s car and went for a drive.  Listening to the stories was like an education – I learned about some great books I should read and I learned about sex.  Win-win!  But as the months got warmer, I would drive around with the windows down.  One day I pulled up to a stoplight just as Lola was describing being mounted and pounded, used and abused, in the story ‘Pound.’  I was on the verge of cumming when I noticed the guy in the car next to me had his windows down as well and he heard everything that was making me so wet.  He gave me an intense, sidelong glance.  I just looked at him, blushed, and tried to shut off the radio, but I suddenly felt an orgasm violently taking over my body as I reached for the button.  No use.  The light turned green.  Neither of us moved.  I came.  He watched.  It was hot!

From Melissa’s miles and miles of masturbation, we now turn to our good friends Jane and Andrew.  You will recall these newlyweds discovered their kinks on their honeymoon when it was revealed that Jane gets off to erotic stories (like Match, Cinder & Spark) and Andrew likes to wear women’s panties and takes delight in his wife locking his chastity cage while she mercilessly masturbates in front of him as a form of titillating torture.

This week they sent us a photo tryptic of sorts showing how they have fun.  She hops in the tub, takes a long, relaxing bath, shaves her twat clean and smooth, and then cuddles up with a good book.  In this case it happens to be Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts.  When she is good and gushing, she invites in Andrew.  He knows by now that during her sexy-time he is to be locked and loaded.  She then reads aloud the passages that have her groin grinding.  If he is lucky, she might fondle and cup his genitalia, but he is not allowed any greater gratification than that.  Yet she is free to dive into her toy drawer and pull out all the necessary accessories for her maximal self-care.  She indulges freely in the pleasures of the flesh while denying him the release he desires.

Jane and Andrew reading Match, Cinder & Spark

As she was reading the stories, she asked Andrew, “What would you think if I took many male lovers and had them fuck me in front of you?”

“Like Lola does?”

“Precisely.”

“I don’t know if I’d be able to prevent ejaculating, even in my cage.”

“How would you like it if our entire marriage you were never allowed to fuck me – only watch – as I was banged by so many men on a regular basis?”
“You would make me the happiest husband on the planet!”

“Then learned Leo was wrong – not all happy marriages are alike.  Perhaps each happy marriage is happy in its own way.”

“I know ours is.”

For Your Entertainment

 

Our third story is from Nicci and her sister Malory.

[Abridged.  The unabridged version you can find here.]

Just before the lockdown went into effect, Nicci had traveled from her hometown of Charlotte to visit her sister Malory in Tampa.  Everything was going fine until the day the CDC announced that no one should be flying anywhere.  That nixed Nicci’s return flight.  As with everyone else, her job shut down and then went remote, as did Malory’s.  The two of them were cooped up in Malory’s small, one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with only Malory’s black lab, Lucky, for company.  This made for rather cramped living space.  As Nicci tells it, the couch was too small for either of them to sleep on, so they bunked up in the bed.  When either of them needed “self-care” time, one sister had to ask the other sister for some “personal space” to “take care of business.”  On more than one occasion, stuck in bed together at night, one or the other would begin fapping.  Two twenty-something women isolated from the rest of the world needed an escape from the ever more grim news inundating them each day.

But they weren’t the only ones in need of relief.  Lucky was a rescue dog and by the time Malory had adopted him, he was too old to be neutered.  He was “intact,” as they say.  And, as such, he too needed to get off – on the couch, on the floor, on Nicci’s or Malory’s leg.

According to Nicci, one evening the two of them joined in a Zoom happy-hour with some mutual friends.  Both of them had a couple of strong margaritas and after the happy-hour was over, they continued to drink and reminisce about high school days.  Malory brought up one of their girlfriends about whom it was rumored that she had regular sex with her dog.  Nicci denied the rumor as urban legend and they both shared a laugh about it.  That led to Nicci asking Malory if she had ever seen the movie Sleeping Dogs Lie.  “It’s a terrible romcom about a woman who. . .”

“No, don’t even!”

“I kid you not!”

“What kind of romcom is that?”

The two of them ended up watching it, or at least trying to.  Nicci was right, it was terrible.

Sleeping Dogs Lie

“If I hear another accordion, it will be too soon!” said Malory.

“I know!  That soundtrack was the worst.  Like they were some French film or something.  And it manages to be cringeworthy in every way and insult just about everyone.”

“Not to mention, the moral of the story – if you can call it that.  It’s best to lie – to your spouse, family, coworkers, and friends.”

They loved hatewatching it.  Nicci added, “And the entire premise of the film – that a lonely, single college woman would give a blowjob to her dog.”

“I know, right?  I mean, it’s so unbelievable.  If I was that lonely, I wouldn’t blow him, I’d have him fuck me.”

Suddenly Nicci stopped laughing and looked very seriously at her sister.  “What?  You wouldn’t, would you?”

Malory mysteriously said, “Who says I haven’t?”

“Come on!  Stop joking.  Really?”

“Ew!” screeched Malory, dramatically, “I take him out twice a day and clean up his shit after him.  Are you kidding me?  No.”

Sure enough, just as they were having this conversation, Lucky went at it again on the rug.

“Whew,” said Nikki, laughing nervously.  “You had me worried for a minute.”

Malory laughed and, looking at Lucky, said, “If I had been fucking him, I don’t think he’d be doing that like three times a day.”

“You should have named him Horny, not Lucky,” said Nicci.

“Who are we kidding?  We’re all fucking horny and none of us are going to get lucky anytime soon,” replied Malory.

That conversation and movie was enough to set the wheels in motion for both of them.  Who knows, maybe Lucky had this arrangement in mind all the while and that’s why he was constantly causing friction on the carpet.

Before long. . . .

When Nicci would go out to do the grocery shopping or Malory would go for a run in the afternoon or morning, whomever was at home was busy with. . . .

But when Malory went out for a jog one afternoon only to have the sky open up and drench her in a downpour so that she returned to the apartment early, she found her sister dripping wet as well, but not from the weather. . . .  Nicci looked up at Malory with a swirling combination of satisfaction, shame, and helplessness.

. . .

This cozy arrangement continued for about two or three months, until Nicci felt safe enough to return home.  When that fateful day came, she and her sister made an unspoken pact never to so much as mention this intense ménage à trois again.

Nicci wrote to us to say, “Though we never, ever talk about what happened between the three of us in those early months of the pandemic, since then I have found (and shared with Mal) your blog.  (You can guess what I was searching for.)  I didn’t tell her why I was sharing it with her, but I’m sure she figured it out.  Thank you for your honesty, candor, and sexiness!”

Sisters at the beach with Lucky

Shopgirl Assistance

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Panties Panties Panties

“Excuse me, but could you please help me with this?” he asked.

“Sure, what is it you’re looking for?” replied the young, cute women’s clothing shop salesgirl.

“I’m trying to find the right size miniskirt.”

“Oh, for your girlfriend?” she asked, not seeing a wedding band on his ring finger.  “What’s her size?”

“Well, that’s just the problem.”

“You don’t know her size,” she said, holding up a couple of skirts.

“No.”

“That’s ok, it happens all the time.  Do you think her waist is wider or narrower than mine?” she asked, twirling and trying to be helpful.  He was stunningly handsome and had a ‘V’ shaped physique.  Broad shoulders, narrow hips, bulging biceps.  He wore a tight t-shirt that hid very little of his rock-solid pecks.  His jeans were loose-fitting, but she could see he was packing something large in them.  She immediately wanted to be as accommodating as possible and she was grateful to show off her own feminine form for him to compare her with his girlfriend.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” he said.  “It’s not for my girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“It’s for me.”

“For you?”

“Yes.  And these are only in women’s sizes, understandably.”

She chuckled and asked, “Are you getting ready for Halloween?”  It was only August.

“No,” he said, secretly delighting in the bombshell he was about to drop.  He had never done this before.  He was nervous about her reaction.  But he also had been looking forward to this moment, vividly imagining it in all its detail, and spending lots of time choosing just the right sales assistant for the job.  He didn’t even know it before Lola, but it had become his particular kink.  “I’m a cross-dresser,” he said nervously, the blood rushing to his flush face.  “I’m looking for a skirt for me.  And maybe some panties, a garter, and maybe a nice choker.”  He said it all very fast, like ripping off a Band-Aid.

She was young.  Inexperienced.  Innocent.  Naive.  She couldn’t conceal the surprised look on her face.  That’s exactly what he was hoping for.  But he also was wracked with fear that she would laugh, or worse, call security.  His heart was thumping in his chest.  He could hear the blood beating like a drum in his neck and ears.

Now for stage two.

“Well, uh, what is your size?”  She asked foolishly.  But then she corrected herself.  “No, you know what, here, I’ll just measure you.”  She played it off as if she had had many customers with the same request.  In fact, she had never even fathomed an encounter like this.  But something about it – probably his amazingly good looks and his disarmingly polite, even shy demeanor – made her feel at ease and willing to help.

She wrapped a measuring tape around his hips.  She liked getting her face close to his abs.  She didn’t linger too long.  She did some quick calculations.  “What style were you interested in?”

He pulled up a couple of very skimpy skirts, barely six inches in length.  “Something like this.”  They were pink.  One had a plaid pattern on it.

“OK,” she said, trying to be cool.  These were sexy outfits.  She felt a twitch between her legs.  “Let’s get you something in your size and get you in the fitting room.”

“Will you help me pick it out?  I’m new at this.”

She laughed flirtatiously.  He was at least five, maybe seven years older than she.  “Of course I will.  That’s my job.”

They picked out a few items and then they walked to the fitting room together.  She had to tell the other shopgirl that it was ok.  They often had men waiting for their wives and girlfriends outside the fitting room, but never one go inside, to try on something like this!

She followed him in.  He took the items.  He tried them on.  When he found one that he thought fit, he opened the door to let her see.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She looked, mouth wide open, as she saw him in a pink frilled mini-skirt, his giant cock bulging out from the bottom, supported and veiled by tight white lace panties.  He was bare-chested.  She had never seen such an Adonis as this perfect man!

How do I look?

“Um, is that the look you’re going for?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, uh, well, you’re not exactly covered.”

“I like that.”

“Then I think it looks fabulous!”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Really.”

“I have a few more to try on.”

He shut the door.  Now her face was flush.  Her heartbeat was thumping in her chest.

A few moments later, he opened the door and asked again, “What do you think?”

This time he was wearing a pink plaid mini-skirt and white lace stockings held up by a garter belt.  The tip of his uncut cock protruded a good two inches below the hemline.

What do you think?

She looked at him, speechless.

“Oh.  My.  God.”

“What?” he asked.

“Um, I’m sorry, uh.”  She fumbled.  She had never, ever seen anything like this.

They spent the better part of an hour trying on different items.  Her imagination went wild as she dressed him up in tight panties, stockings, even a bra.  She loved touching his rock-hard flesh.

She had orgasms before, but never had she had a hands-free, contact-free orgasm.  This one happened merely as a result of being in his presence.  She creamed her panties and she knew she’d have to leave work early.

Before her assistance was over, she asked, “Where do you plan on wearing these?”

He pulled out his phone and showed her the wallpaper of the homepage.  It was a sexy photo of a beautiful, buxom, brunette.  “They’re for my girlfriend, Lola,” he said.

And, indeed, he wasn’t lying.  Lola had instructed him to put her photo on his phone and to do everything that you have just read and to tell the shopgirl that Lola was his girlfriend.

Lola Wallpaper

Later that day, he brought all his lingerie home and did a photoshoot for Lola and relayed how he obediently fulfilled her instructions.

“Closet Panties”

The (Not So) Secret Life of Lo the Nympho

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5

Lo’s kungfu Grip

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

That wasn’t Lola firing off those five fucks in a row, that was me.  Lo had just used her left hand, filled with moisturizing cream, to get me off in my pajama bottoms.  This has become an almost nightly routine for us now.  We get into bed – she naked, me in my pajama bottoms – and she says, “Do you want me to milk you Daddy?”

I almost always say yes.

On the rare occasions that I ask her if I can have her, to fuck her, you know, the old-fashioned way of intercourse, she usually just reaches down between my legs and squeezes her cream-filled hand around my hard rod.  I am powerless to protest.  She strokes to climax – always my climax – and then I fall off to sleep in my cum-filled pjs, too spent to change.

This nightly ritual has spurred me to purchase five or six more pajama bottoms in order that I have something to wear the next night.

What Lo does after my dissipated desire allows me to nod off is a mystery.

But recently I have gained a glimpse into that dark, hidden recess.

After hearing from Ginger and her transformation from housewife to hotwife, Lo became curious about the legalized brothels of Nevada.  Apparently, she had been doing internet research on her own late at night.

Fit Ginger Hotwife

Fit Ginger Hotwife

“Daddy,” she said one day over breakfast, “it has been a long time since we went on a vacation.”

“True,” I said, sipping my coffee.  “What do you have in mind?”  I knew she was up to something nefarious.

“Well,” she began, looking off into the middle distance to conjure her vision like a fey dreamer, “in Nevada prostitution is legal.”

“With certain qualifications,” I said, being a cold, hard realist.  Very hard.

Undeterred by my interruption, she continued, “And I’ve looked into it.  They have special vacation, well, uh, sort of sex-tourism packages.”

Lola’s eye is always attracted to a big package.  “I’m confused,” I said.

“Daddy, they issue a special license for tourists to prostitute themselves.”

“No – really?”

She nodded enthusiastically.  Then she looked up at me with those pleading puppy eyes.  “Please, Daddy.”

I’ll spare you all the details, but basically there are a lot of costs involved: licensing, STD testing, room rental, etc.  It seemed to me very much like a day trip on a recreational fishing boat.  There’s the cost of the boat, the fishing license, the taxes, etc.  Built into the cost of the day excursion on the boat are all the hidden costs.  We had to discover all the overhead ourselves for our sex-tourism jaunt.

Once all that was done, we flew to a remote part of Nevada.  Setting up the clientele was easy, given our high-profile web presence.  There was no shortage of johns eager for pay-to-play with Lo.

Other than suggesting the idea and knowing what our special vacation was for, Lo had no other insights into the details.  She wanted it that way.  In order to keep her both figuratively and literally in the dark, I arranged the flight to land at night.  We drove through the veiled desert to the remote, rather dilapidated brothel.  It looked more like a repurposed old motel.  Lo and I found our room and, as she was exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, only a few hours after we had arrived, I woke up to begin preparations for Lo’s stay.  As Lo soundly slept in the buff on the king-sized bed, I collected all her clothes – every last garment.  I put them in my suitcase and simultaneously unpacked the special outfits I had purchased for her, especially for this occasion.  They consisted of thong panties, lace panties, satin bras, elaborate strappy one-piece lingerie, fishnet stockings, and the like.  There was not one item of clothing left in the room that she could possibly wear outside.  She was trapped by her own undergarments, imprisoned by G-strings and sheer mesh fabric.  A fitting metaphor for the Veil of Maya in which we all find ourselves.

I then snuck out of the room with her suitcase.  She had no idea, but I had rented the room adjacent to hers.  The walls were paper thin, allowing me to be a clandestine interloper in her affairs.  About nine that morning I got a text from Lo: “Where are you?”

“I had to go out.  Your first appointment is at noon.  Enjoy.”

“Out?  Where to?”

“Running some errands for your vacation.  His name is Peter.  Call me if you need anything, I will be close by.”

“Daddy, breakfast,” she wrote, complaining.

“It’s being delivered.”

I had arranged for everything.  The room service arrived, finding Lola naked in the hotel room.  I suppose that sort of thing was not unusual, given the purpose of the establishment.

I returned to my adjacent room around ten after getting some greasy grits for myself and I heard Lo in her room.  It sounded like she was showering and then masturbating.  Then, repeat.  I texted her, “Turn on the TV.”

I had arranged that I could cast from my computer to her TV.  I put on one of her favorite shows: Playboy’s “Swing.”

“Oh, Daddy!” she texted back.

I could hear the muted sounds of the TV from her room.

Around noon her first customer, I mean john, that is to say, Peter came.

And boy did he cum!

I heard muted voices.  Then I heard Lo saying, “Fill me!  Fuck me!  Stretch me!  Cum in me!”  That last bit was screamed so that it was exquisitely distinct through the wall.

I heard her repeating at the top of her lungs, as if an incantation or mantra: “I love cock!  I love cock!  I love cock!  I love cock!!!”

There were a few moments of quiet and then I heard the door close.  A few moments later Lo texted me, “First done and gone.”

“How was it.”

“Well, it’s only 12:20, so, I’d say pretty quick.  When’s my next appointment?”

“Not until 1:00.”

“Can you come here, Daddy?”

“No, Lo.  I’m out.  Running errands.”

She sent a sad-face emoji.

I heard her fire up her Hitachi Magic Wand (which I had strategically left for her to find).

Screams.  Silence.  Screams.

A knock at the door.

John #2.

This time there was a lot of talk, but no climax.  No yelling or screaming.

At exactly two o’clock I heard the door close.

“Two down,” texted Lo.

“How was it?”

“He just wanted me to stroke his cock while I looked into his eyes and talked to him.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Anything that came to mind.  He just wanted me to talk.  I tried to make sexy talk, but he preferred that I just say anything.  I basically told him the history of Elizabethan Theater and the history of Shakespeare plays.  That made him very hard and horny.”

“You’re kidding,” I texted back.

“Gotta go!  Next customer.”

I heard the knock at the door even before she texted me.

This time she was loud and proud.

After a little less than an hour, I heard the door close.

“So many kinks,” she texted.

“What do you mean?”

“This one just wanted me to masturbate the entire time.  You have no idea how tingly my pussy lips are.  I had the Hitachi – thanks Daddy! – on my cunt for almost an hour!”

There was another knock at the door.

“Don’t I get a lunch break?!” she texted.

“No rest for the randy,” I texted back.

This time I heard what sounded like her being thrown against the wall in a rhythmic pattern.  I was worried.  I watched my phone like a hawk.  I thought the two of them were going to pound right through the thin wall into my room.

After about twenty or thirty minutes of the constant banging, I heard nothing at all.

Ten minutes later I heard a man’s voice yelling, “Whore!  Cunt!  Fucking Slut!”

A few minutes later I heard the distinct purr of Lola.

Then the door shut again.

“Are you ok?” I texted her immediately.  I was so concerned.

“Divine,” she wrote back.

“Please explain,” I responded, dryly.

“He was rough and violent and he said so many derogatory things to me. . .  I loved it!”

“Really?”

There was another knock at the door.

This time, after a while of no sounds, or at least none that I could hear, I detected Lo’s quiet voice saying, “I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”

Then it stopped.

At ten to five, I got a text: “I’m starving, Daddy.”

I was too enraged and jealous – yes, jealous! – to respond.

At five sharp, there was another knock at the door.

This time I heard nearly nothing except the loud groan of a man’s voice.

At five-thirty the door shut.

“Well, at least I got a snack,” texted Lo.

“Ready for dinner?” I asked.

“I’m always ready, and hungry, and horny.”

I knocked at her door, even though I had the key.  I was curious as to her reaction and I also thought it would be an ironic joke.

She answered the door the way I imagine she answered it for all the six other guys who had preceded me: wearing a black negligée that barely covered her ass and pussy.  Nothing else.  Her tits were practically falling out of it.

Lo, Dressed for Success

“You’re a welcome surprise,” she said.  “I actually thought you had booked me straight through to midnight!”

“Would you like that?”

“I’m a hard worker and I work best when my customers are hard.”

“Well, good news – you and I are going to grab dinner together.”

“First, where?  Second, I have no clothes, remember?”

I handed her a sleek black dress.  She had panties and bras and high heels in the room already.

She put on the heels, not the bra or panties.  She looked dressed more as if in a negligée than a party dress.  Her nipples were visible through the thin, shiny material.

She looked good – dirty, dissolute, disheveled, devilish, and desirable.

“Don’t you want me, Daddy?” she asked as she hiked up her dress and spread her pussy lips to show me the cum dripping out.   Whose cum?  Could have been anyone’s.

“Later, Lo,” I said.  “We’ve got reservations.”  I almost chuckled to myself as I said it.

“Really?!” she asked, excited as if we were still in our metropolis and able to pick from a few hundred eating establishments.

We walked out into the cool, dry Nevada night.

“No car?” she asked as we walked in the dirt across the parking lot.

“Here we are,” I said after about fifty feet, when we got to the door of the dive bar and restaurant across from the brothel.

“Here?!” she moped.

“Lo, there ain’t another Michelin rated restaurant for at least a hundred miles from here.”

“I don’t need Michelin rated, but I do need edible.”

“Relax, this place is fine.”

“We walked in like two invitees to the Emmy’s, only to find a juke box greeted us, followed by a long, worn wooden bar, and tables with plastic picnic-table cloths covering them, pitchers of Miller Light upon them, and people wearing cowboy hats unironically dancing.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked as all the male eyes in the place magnetically rested upon her sweet, antipodinal angelic aura.

“Couldn’t be any more serious,” I said as the kind hostess showed us to our picnic-table.

We ordered the less-than-mediocre meal and a pitcher of their finest Miller beer.

“Daddy,” Lo inquired, “do I have a busy day tomorrow?”

“All booked up – ten to six.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she said, almost admitting defeat.

“I believe in you, Lo.  Did you not enjoy today?”

She was quiet for a few seconds.  Pensive.  “I enjoyed it well enough.”

“What’s that mean – ‘well enough’?”

“I was hoping to get fucked like a broken screen door in a hurricane.  But only one guy was like that.  Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “that was wonderful, but the other guys – they were kinda weird, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

The meal came and Lo started eating like she hadn’t seen food in a week, even though the food was far below her standards.

She never completed her thought.

“I have something special planned for you tomorrow,” I said.

Her eyes lit up.  “Tell me!”  She can’t stand a surprise.

“Nope.  You’ll find out tomorrow.”

We finished our meal and ordered another pitcher of beer.  We weren’t driving, so, why not?

After downing two pitchers, we felt oddly attracted to the silly country dancing that we had observed among a few of the regulars.  We joined in.  Lo’s black, strappy heels were a comical contrast to the other women’s cowboy boots.  Lo’s sleek black dress also looked out of place among the other women in their jeans or denim shorts and plaid, button-down shirts.  But the biggest contrast was that the other women were all at least ten years older and heavier than Lo, by far.  They were like ranch hands.  It was clear that they were all married and moms.  Though the brothel shared a parking lot with this restaurant, it seemed as if the other prostitutes all went home to their husbands and families at the end of their shifts, or they went somewhere else, but they certainly were not grabbing dinner here.  I’m not saying any of that in a disparaging way, just pointing out the ways in which Lo stood out like a rosebush among the cacti.

And I wasn’t the only one to notice the difference.  The men in the place looked over their wives’ shoulders as they danced with them, staring at Lo.  The wives, for their part, gave Lo the meanest of looks, judging her and silently despising her.  They knew where she had been all day and where she’d be all night.  These good Christian women, with God, guns, and glory on their side, stood in judgment of Lo’s heretical goddess, gams, and gloryhole.

Perhaps mistakenly, we ordered another pitcher of beer to quench the thirst we developed while dancing.  Soon Lo was dancing in the arms of many of the different men at the bar, letting them feel her nipples over the sheer material of the dress, slide their hands down over the curve of her rear, and partially up her thigh.  I could tell Lo had a long day and was getting too tipsy to tear up the dance floor and so I politely cut in and escorted her back to her room where she had worked the day as an escort.

Samantha Massie reading Match, Cinder & Spark

Country Girls with Samantha Massie

Reverse View of Samantha Massie and friends

Samantha Massie and her besties

Samantha Massie and friends

One more of Samantha Massie’s behind

Back in the room, Lo quickly slipped out of her dress and into a slip, pulled out her Hitachi and her phone and began going at it on the couch as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth.  By the time I returned to where she had been stimulating her stretched and sore pussy, I found her, motor of the Hitachi still vibrating, her phone still open to the photos she was using to get off – pics of her friend Samantha Massie and her crew of country MILFs.  I had been in the bathroom for maybe three, four minutes max!  But by the time I came to the couch beside the bed – the same bed upon which she had prostituted her body – she was sound asleep with her breasts hanging out of her slip.

Lo, Sleeping with her Best Friend

The next morning I woke up early.  I snuck out with her dress.

“Daddy, where are you?” she texted.

“Errands,” I responded.

“What could you possibly have to do?”

“I guess not you.”

“What?”

“You fell asleep on me last night, leaving me hard up.”

“Sorry.”

“Should I find a prostitute?”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Can you fit me into your busy schedule?”

“I’m very flexible – I could probably fit you and a couple more guys in.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Time to find out how much more of this I can take.  Where’s my breakfast?”

“It should be there any minute now.”

“Well, my john is here now.”

There was another knock at the door.

“Oh, never mind.  Breakfast arrived,” she texted.

About twenty minutes and a few howls later, I heard the door close.

“How’s breakfast?” I asked.

“He fucked me as I ate it.  He said it was a real turn-on for him.”

“Full, or still hungry?” I texted back.

“I can always take a little more,” she wrote.

I heard the bath running.

I heard a knock at the door.

I heard Lo open it and talk to the customer.

About twenty minutes later I received a text.  “He jacked off to me as I took a bath.  That was easy!”

There was another knock.

Lo texted, “Daddy, they’re arriving every half hour.”

“That’s your surprise.  Today is economy class.  They only paid for thirty minutes.  Later they will be arriving every fifteen minutes.”

“What?!”  She included a number of emojis to demonstrate her displeasure with that.

There were three more visitors to her room before lunch.

“Will you join me for lunch?” she texted.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I knocked at the door.  She opened it wearing only a transparent and skimpy negligée through which I could see everything.

Lo, Falling Out

“You said you could fit me in.”

“That was before you told me my schedule.  I’m full up.”

“I hope not.  You have ten more appointments today.”

“Ten?!”

I finally walked in the door.  Lunch was delivered.  A sandwich, fries, and a lemonade.  I watched her eat as I observed the room.  It was a mess.  The bed was a mess and looked well-used.  Various undergarments were strewn around the room.  Used condoms were hanging over the side of the trashcan and were in it as well.

“How’s work?” I inquired.

She spread her legs for me to see the commingled cum of various men dribble out of her.

“It’s a complicated business,” she said in between bites, “a lotta ins, a lotta outs.  You know.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Everything tastes like cum,” she said as she put down her sandwich and took a sip of her drink.

“Your favorite flavor.”

“Do I have cum in my hair?” she asked.

I looked.  “A little.”

“The last guy was all about cumming on my face.”

“Bad aim?”

“No.  For the most part, he hit the target.”

“Any other standout performances?”

“One of the guys, I forget which one, wanted to use my ass.”

She knows exactly how jealous that makes me.

“Did you let him.”

“He paid for hit, didn’t he?”

“I suppose.”

“He went ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-mouth.”

“Covered all the bases.”

“Then he repeated it.”

“All in a half-hour’s time?”

“He made the rounds quickly.”

“Where did he finally arrive?”

“Ass, then mouth.”

“Well, you’ll have to speed up the spin cycle because all the rest of today’s engagements are only a quarter-hour.”

“Don’t you worry.  Just as I can make you cum in under five minutes, I will give each of them their money’s worth.”

“Your talent never ceases to amaze me!”

I left and returned to my post.  As I was outside, I saw the next customer pull up.  A middle-aged man with a wedding band on his left ring finger.

I slipped in the door to my hotel room as he knocked on Lola’s door.

Soon I could hear him knocking on Lola’s back door too!

He was gone quickly.

A new customer came in and exited in under fifteen minutes.  Lola texted me, “I had to pee when the last one arrived.  I told him so.  He asked to watch.  He stroked it as I was on the toilet and then came on my face as I continued sitting, fingering my clit in front of him.  It was hot!”

Cleanup

Ready!

Another customer.  Lo texted me after that this one had a foot fetish and came on her toes.

There were many more before her last appointment for the night.  The last one had paid for two hours and had a very particular fetish.  It was a husband and wife and they wanted Lo to dress up as a bride in white lingerie: mesh lace pushup bra, matching thong panties, harness suspender belt connected to white garters and of course a tiara with flowing lace veil.  I had packed all this for Lola with a note on it that said, “Finale.”  Now she understood what I meant by that.

They were into roleplay.  The husband and wife team told Lo that the scenario is that they are her parents on her wedding night and they are going to teach her how it’s done.

“You want to be sexy for your groom,” she said to Lo.

“OK, Mom, tell me how,” replied Lo.

“I’ll show you instead,” she said as she got naked and bent over the bed.  “Put your ass in the air like this.”

Lo stood next to her as if her magic mirror.  Gazing into the looking glass, the older woman beheld the younger.

Her husband approached her from behind and mounted her.

“Make sure you’re good and wet,” she instructed.

“Oh, Mom, I’m always wet.”

“He’ll enter you like so,” she said as she moaned.

“Is he big?” asked Lo.

“Try for yourself,” she said.

“Lola, spread your pussy for me,” he said to her.

Lola did as told, very dutifully.

He entered her.

“That’s it, honey,” said her ersatz mother as she grabbed Lo’s ass cheeks and spread them for her husband to penetrate her.  Then she got in front of Lo and began smacking at Lo’s tits as they hung down and undulated forward with each thrust from behind.

“Mom,” said Lo, “that hurts!”

“Does it?” she asked, pausing from pawing Lo’s breasts.

“I didn’t say stop,” said Lo.

The wife resumed slapping Lo’s tits, gently at first but gradually with more force as her husband also grew more forceful from behind.

“I think you have done this before,” said the wife.

“Once or twice.  Why?  Am I good at it?”

“So good,” said the husband.

“Are you going to cum?” asked his wife.

“Fuck, yes!  I am.”

“Cum on my tits!” said his wife.  “And let me taste you after,” she added, opening her mouth wide.

He pulled out of Lo and came right on his wife’s breasts as she held them together tightly.  Then he put his cock in her mouth for her to taste Lo’s juices.

“Lick me clean,” she instructed Lo.

Lo didn’t need to be told twice.

“That’s it.  You’ll make a good wife to your groom.  But, darling, I’m going to have to instruct him how to properly fuck you.  You don’t mind, do you?” asked the older woman.

“No, Mom.  He’s been hoping to be schooled by you.”

“Good.  I hope he’s longer and thicker than your father over there,” she said, nodding at the sated man in the chair.

“He is, by far!”

The couple eventually cleaned up and left, each of them kissing Lo goodbye first.

I then returned to my love and got the full story from her as she made passionate love to me, calling out numerous times, “Daddy, am I a bad girl?  Am I a slut?  Am I a proper, passionate, pliable little prostitute?”

“Yes, dear,” I said, “you’re a good whore, but more than anything else, you’re my whore.”

She liked that.  She liked that very much.

On the plane home, Lo turned to me and whispered, “Thank you Daddy, that was the most wonderful birthday present ever.”

“Birthday present? – it was your Valentine’s Day gift.”

“So I still have a birthday present coming to me?”

“You sure do!”

Her eyes lit up.  “When we get back?”

“If you’re a good girl,” I said, patronizingly.

She held my hand.  There was a silence during which I knew exactly what she was thinking.

Three, two. . .

“What is it?” she asked, right on queue.

“That would spoil the surprise.”

“But Daddy, I can’t wait.  Give me a hint.”

“No hints.”

She looked disappointed and then put her finger to her lips and furrowing her brow as if she were in deep thought.

“Now Lola,” I said, “if you do that, you’ll give yourself wrinkles prematurely.”

She looked at me, surprised.

“Do you think I’m getting wrinkles?” she asked in a panic, putting her hands to her forehead to smooth her skin.

“No,” I laughed, “no I don’t.”

“When do you think I’ll get wrinkles?  Do you think I’ll go grey?  You think my boobs will sag?”

“You realize, Lo, you’re ageist.”

“Ageist?  Me?  Impossible.  I’m dating you and you’re ancient!”

“You see.  There you go again.”

“Oh, come on,” she said.

“Well, thank God you don’t age.”

“No, I don’t, do I?”

“Not a day over twenty-four.”

“But I will be soon,” she said with fright.

“No you won’t.”

“What?”

“How old were you last year?” I asked.

“Twenty-four,” she said as if it were an obvious question.

“And how old did you turn the year before that?”

“Twenty-three.  Duh.”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“You turned twenty-four.”

“I think you failed math.  Twenty-three comes before twenty-four.”

“How old will you turn this year?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Nope.”

“We are in a plane, but are you high?  How ‘nope’?”

“Because, my dear, I am the author of this here story.  You have been twenty-four since we started this account of our sex lives together.”

She looked at me like I was crazy.

“OK,” I said, “how old am I?”

“That’s easy,” she said, looking a little nervous.

“Then tell me.”

“You’re fifty-something.”

“Fifty what?”

“Fifty-er-uh-something.”

“I had a birthday last year.  Remember?”

“Of course I do!  I got you a private stripper.  Do you remember?”

“Yes,” I said, dreamily.

She teasingly punched me, “Hey, I’m over here,” she said.

“And how old did I turn last year?”

“Fifty. . . one?”

“Nope.”

“Two?”

“Nope.”
“How old?”

“Fifty-something, exactly.”

“That’s silly.”

“I have always been fifty-something and you have always been twenty-four.  I will always be fifty-something and you will forever remain twenty-four.”

“Forever?”
I nodded affirmatively.  “Forever.”

She thought about it for a while before finally asking, “But I still get a birthday present?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then I’m ok with that.”

Lo Exhausted