“Naked Brunch”

Posted on April 22, 2018 by Lola Down

“Lo!” I called from the bedroom into the bathroom through the closed door. “LO! What are you doing in there?!” As if there were any question, really.

“Grrrrr, you’re not helping, you know!” came the response. “This water pressure sucks!”

“Jim will be here in fifteen – no, ten minutes.”

You see Jim, of the “doppelganger” couple, was to come over for brunch that Sunday morning. Lilly, his girlfriend, was out of town for a week and he had called me and asked if I would have time to talk. When I told him that Lo and I were free Sunday morning, he clumsily apologized and said, “Oh, I meant just you and me. I’m going through something and I. . .”

He was clearly uncomfortable and I felt bad for my assumption. I didn’t put him through having to explain it all on the phone, so I simply said, “No worries. Come on over at eleven and we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Well, now it was ten to eleven Sunday morning and Lo had been in the shower, no doubt sitting on the tub’s floor with the showerhead between her legs, for the better part of half an hour. She was supposed to be out of the house by now and I was getting irritated by the lack of consideration. When I presented the plans to her, in typical Lola fashion she took umbrage at not being the center of attention. “What could he possibly have to say to you that I can’t hear? Do you think he’s breaking up with Lilly? Do you think she left him?”

“Lo,” I said, “I don’t know. But I do know that he’s a friend in need and I will find out the whole story on Sunday.”

“Well,” she said, insulted, “I have two ears just like you do. I’m a good listener. I can dole out advice. I’m a comforting soul.”

“All of that is true, Lo,” I said, “but, hard as it is to believe, maybe he needs to talk man-to-man.”

“Harrumph!” she said, dramatically, “I could have a penis too, if I wanted one. I’ve got like four or five different strap-ons under the bed. Maybe if I had a penis he’d want to talk to me.”

“Lo, most men want to talk to you most of the time – penis or no penis. Can’t you accept that this one time a guy wants to talk to me. . . alone?”

I got her to promise that she’d let us alone for a few hours so that I could hear whatever it was that Jim had to say to me. But now she was dangerously close to intruding upon that precious one-on-one time.

The bathroom door opened, releasing a plume of steam into the bedroom. From within the cloud, the naked body of Lola appeared like the epiphany of a goddess out of heaven. Under normal circumstances, this would be the perfect opportunity to bend her over the edge of the bed and get on my knees to worship her posterior. But we had a guest – no, correction, I had a guest – scheduled to arrive in mere moments.

“You like, Daddy?” she asked, seeing me soak her visage in with my eyes.

“Lola,” I said in my Ricky Ricardo to Lucy voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here in a jiffy!”

I took her word for it and went into the kitchen to take out the ingredients for the brunch I was preparing. The doorbell rang and I welcomed Jim in, explaining that Lo is just getting a bit of a late start. He greeted me with a smile and a bottle of champagne, “For mimosas,” he said.

“Wonderful idea! Shall I pour two now?”

“It is brunch time,” he said.

I went into the kitchen and popped the cork and poured the bubbly in two long-stem glasses with OJ. The kitchen is half-way between the living room and the bedroom. From where I was in there, I could hear Lo beginning to moan. I hastily grabbed the two glasses and returned to the living room where I said, “Some music?” I turned on a Sunday blues station louder than was necessary, exclaiming, “I love this song!”

“Oh, who is it?” asked Jim.

Truth be told, I had no idea. I just wanted something to drown out the inevitable cries of pleasure that would reverberate down the hallway. “I forget, but I haven’t heard it in a long time,” I said as I felt beads of sweat on my brow.

We sat in the living room talking in raised voices over the music, just catching up with each other since it had been a while since we last spoke in person.

“Refill?” I asked when I saw his glass was empty.

He passed me his glass and I went to the kitchen. I went to refill his glass and quickly darted over to the bedroom where I peered in the door. Lo was naked on the bed, Hitachi between her legs. She looked over at me and whispered, “Sorry.”

“Are you done?” I whispered back, accusingly.

“Yes, Daddy.”

I closed the door and brought out the mimosas to the living room, turning down the music now. We chatted some more and then Lola walked into the room wearing her thin, tight, black yoga pants and a crop top, exposing her midriff.

“Hi Jim,” she said, flirtatiously.

“Hi Lola!”

“Don’t mind me. I’m just on my way to the gym for a yoga class. I know you boys want your time alone. I just have to get my gym bag.” Though her gym bag was in the hall leading to the living room and she could have simply picked it up, she made a production of turning around, bending over, protruding her tail in the air and then picking it up. It was a classic stripper move designed to provide the best view for Jim.

“Doesn’t that class start at eleven?” I asked facetiously. “You’d better get a move-on.”

“I’ll hightail it there, D—” She almost said “Daddio,” but stopped herself mid-consonant. “Don’t worry about me,” she stammered. She gave me a kiss goodbye and was finally out the door.

I observed with keen interest how Jim’s eyes followed Lo’s ass as she sauntered away.

When she was definitively gone, I got up and said, “Want to accompany me as I prepare the brunch?”

He followed me into the kitchen where I sliced and diced, fried and prepared the meal as he made some small talk. We sat down, ate, drank some more mimosas, and then, finally, he got to that which was on his mind.

“You know that Lilly is in Miami now,” he said.

“Yeah, how’s that going?”

“Well, she’s been away for four days and. . .”

I thought he was going to tell me that they had broken up and she wasn’t returning back, even though – or perhaps because – they had just moved in together. But that’s not where he was going with this.

“Well, you might not know this,” he continued, “but she and I are in an ‘open’ relationship.” He made air-quotes around “open.” No. No, I had not known that. Does he know about Lo and me? I hadn’t told him. Had Lo? Why bring this up with me? Had he found our blog? So many things ran through my mind at that moment.

“Until now,” he continued, “it really was an understanding between us, an operating principle, but it wasn’t put into practice.”

“Ah ha,” I nodded, indicating my understanding.

“But she called the other night – it was the first night she was down there – and she asked if she could sleep with a guy she met at the bar.”

“Oh,” I said. “And?”

“That’s just the thing – I was already asleep. I didn’t get the message until the next morning and by then it was too late.”

“Too late?” I didn’t know if he meant the opportunity had come and gone or if the opportunity had cum and stayed.

“Yeah.”

“What happened? Did she?”

He swallowed hard and admitted, “Yes. She didn’t hear back from me and, operating on our understanding, she slept with him. She did try to ask permission and she waited for a reply,” he said in defense of her before I even had a chance to react.

“How are you doing with that?”

“That’s just the thing, I’m doing horrible with it.” The distress was clear on his face.

I still hadn’t figured out why he had chosen to confide in me about this.

“What, exactly, is upsetting you about it?”

Let’s be clear here, in most situations if a fella came to his friend’s house and told him that he just found out that his girlfriend had slept with another man, there wouldn’t be any question as to what, exactly, was upsetting about it. But this wasn’t most situations. He got that and I did too.

“When I agreed to an open relationship, I did so because I knew that that was what she was used to and what she wanted. It was at the beginning of our relationship when you feel like nothing could derail the connection. But. . .” He took a deep drink of mimosa and I refilled his glass. “But since then we’ve had some issues. . .” Long pause again. “Intimacy. She says that we don’t connect sexually and spiritually. She says she loves me in every other way, but. . . and this is really hard to admit, she’s just not satisfied with my performance in bed. So, to hear about her with another man, it’s driving me nuts!”

I thought to myself, “You can either let it get to you or embrace your inner cuck and love your hotwife for who she is.” I didn’t say that to him, of course. I just lent a compassionate ear to his tale of woe. I gave some worldly advice, perhaps revealing more about myself and my relationship with Lola than I had intended, but not stating anything explicit about my relationship with her. I was eager to find out the root of their sexual disconnect, but careful not to pry. I knew that, had Lo been there – had she been the Lady Confessor – she would have been able to coax it out of him.

No sooner had I thought this than in the door appeared Lo. Jim put on his best smile and greeted her. “How was the yoga class?”

“So good,” said Lola. “How was your brunch?”

“We’re just finishing up,” said Jim as he cleared his plate and, as it seemed to me, hastily began to say goodbye.

As soon as he was out the door, Lo looked at me and said, “Did I scare him off?”

“I think you did,” I said, as surprised as she by the abrupt departure.

“Good,” she said, “now we’re alone. Tell me everything!”

“First, young lady,” I said in a scolding manner, “you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Hearing my rebuking tone, she turned tail and said, “I’m sorry, Daddy, spank me!” She bent over in her yoga pants and put her bum in the air. I gave her a good, hard, thrashing with my flat, open hand. It was clearly having an arousing effect upon her.

“Why are you spanking me, Daddy?”

“First,” I said, giving her bum a whack, “for jilling it in the shower. Second” and another whack, “for being late out the door. Third,” Whack! “for jilling it in bed. Fourth,” Whap! “for walking out in those yoga pants.”

“You noticed?”

“Noticed what?”

“I think you know.”

“Your cameltoe?”

“So you did notice? I didn’t wear any panties under the yoga pants. I pulled them up tight so that when I walked out my pussy, with all its clearly outlined folds, would be eye-level with Jim as he sat in the living room.”

WHACK!

“Yes, Daddy,” she said, licking her lips at the pain and pleasure. “I was bad. I purposely teased him. Did you like that?”

I pulled down her yoga pants and spanked her bare bottom now. “Fifth, for returning so early and teasing him again!”

“Take me in the bedroom and tell me what happened.”

I took her and told her the whole story. She masturbated to each detail and then said, “Do you think he came to you because he suspects I’m a hotwife?”

“Yes,” I said, “and not only that, but I think that what’s really going on is he’s feeling threatened that Lilly will get all the action and he’ll get none. I think his coming to me was his way of asking permission if it would be ok to fuck you, just so he can play too.”

“Really?!” asked Lo, very excited. “What makes you think that?”

“Just my gut. But I think he’s way too shy or uptight to actually come out and say it.”

“Do you think he has a small cock? Or trouble getting it up? Or. . .”

“Lo, I really don’t know. I haven’t put too much thought to it, but I’m sure you could be the cure to whatever ails him.”

“Oh, Daddy, hurry up and get in me!”

As soon as I had penetrated her puss to the hilt, she came in waves, gushing all over me. It took nothing more than that initial lance before she was convulsing upon my hard shaft. When she was done, she asked, “Did he like your brunch?”

“I think he would have preferred to have your naked peaches and cream.”

Original art by Jo Koss

Sexy Shorts: All Hands on Dick

Posted on March 16, 2018 by Lola Down

I awoke and in the darkness I could see the blurry blue light of the alarm clock. 5:50. I usually get up at six, but I figured, close enough. Then I noticed that something was not right. Lo was not quietly snoozing beside me. There was a pale blue light cast from the bathroom. The door was open. I peered in and I saw her sitting naked on the pot, her phone held in one hand, her other hand hidden from my sight between her legs. I realized also that my cock was at attention under the covers.

I swung my legs out and over the side of the bed, sat up, and got up, naked. I walked into the bathroom silently and Lo practically jumped to the ceiling with fright. She clutched her phone tight.

“What the hell?!”

“I think I have a right to ask you that,” I responded.

I walked to the sink, next to her, and pulled out my toothbrush and put toothpaste on it.

“Mmmmm, what is this?” she asked, looking fawningly at my protruding member. I had to be careful not to bang it on the porcelain sink.

“Why don’t you tell me?” I said, looking down at her accusingly.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said, looking up at me subserviently. “I had very sexy dreams. They woke me and I was wet. I tried to get you up, but then came here so as not to bother you.”

“Looks like you succeeded at getting me up,” I said. “Did you squirt?”

“I was about to when you startled me.”

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

“Nothing, Daddy.”

“Nothing?”

“Just a story I was reading on Medium.”

“What story?”

She changed the subject by grabbing my cock with her left hand and stroking it.

“I never jacked someone off while he was brushing his teeth,” she said.

“That’s probably the only sexual act you haven’t done yet,” I wanted to say, but couldn’t because my mouth was full.

“I’ve never sucked someone off while he brushed his teeth either,” she added as she turned me and leaned in to take me in her mouth.

I spat and rinsed. She squirted. I could hear the stream of high-pressure fluid spray the pot. She took me in her mouth deeper. Soon I was ejaculating in her mouth as she leaned further forward to get it all.

After we both cleaned up, she pulled me back to the bed. She lay me down and grabbed my flaccid cock. “Get hard. Please get hard,” she said as if praying to a god. “Please.”

She used every trick in her tool box to reinvigorate my member, to no avail. Finally she said, “If you won’t get hard for me, I will have to take matters into my own hands,” and she pulled out her arsenal of toys. Looking through them, she found two or three that she thought would be best suited for her mood.

“Can I go now?” I asked.

“You don’t want to watch?”

“Lo, you’re like ‘Gilligan’s Island,’” I said

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked, angry.

“Nothing, just that I’ve seen you jill it so many times before.”

“You’re saying my sexy body is a rerun; a tired old show that’s been put into syndication; a dated, aged joke?”

“No no no,” I said, realizing I was now in hot water.

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s time that you put all hands on dick and I’ll show you how the professor takes care of Maryanne.”

My Love is a Red Red Rosebud

Posted on February 14, 2018 by Lola Down

“I’m so fat!” she decried as she stood in her bikini looking in the mirror at her reflection.

“You say that like fat is a bad thing,” I said with a smile.

“Shut up.”

“What? All I’m saying is I like some meat on your bones. You always tell me how much you like my meat and to bone.”

She threw a pillow at me. “You’re tapping into my greatest insecurity.”

“Your weakness is your strength,” I replied.

“Your weakness is me.”

“I know. I know. Lola, you’re my Kryptonite. I’m the Man of Steel. But after being around you I go soft as a Slinky. But seriously,” I said, “come here.”

She walked to me like a child who had just been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She stood in front of me. I grabbed and kissed the small bulge above her bikini line.

“Stop it! You know I hate that!”

“But I love it. It’s so sexy.”

“I have to work on my beach body.”

“I’m working on my beach-ball body.”

“We both should exercise.”

“Exercise?! Are you kidding me? I just heard about a forty-year-old man who dropped dead – DEAD! – while on the treadmill. Oh no. Not for me, thank you.”

“What are you talking about? He probably had a preexisting condition. He probably had heart problems or was overweight.”

“That’s proof! Proof that exercise is bad for you. Positively lethal!”

“That’s not proof.”

“All I’m saying is that you never hear of a perfectly healthy forty-year-old man dying on his couch while reading a book.”

“Give me a break!” she said, throwing her arms in the air.

Lo and I went down to the pool of the hotel.

It was Valentine’s Day, we were on vacation in a warm-weather city, and Lo was looking like one sweet-tart.

Lo thought that, as usual, I had failed to make any plans for V-Day. There she was wrong.

After some hours by the pool where she only got jealous of the other bikini babes walking past me, lounging in the reclining chairs, or dangling their feet in the water, we both were hungry and, after changing, I surprised her for the first time that day by actually having a lunch destination suggestion.

“Chinese?!” she questioned, both skeptical and disappointed.

We drove through the grid of the city to the special Chinese restaurant I had scoped out. This wasn’t just your average Chinese joint; it was a newly opened, chic, “Asian-fusion” place simply called Red that was all the rage.

Luckily, Lo was impressed.

After our meal, Lo’s Fortune Cookie read: “Emotion is energy in motion” and I added “in bed.”

When we got back to the car, a compact, two-seater, Lo laughed as she got in.

“What?” I asked, curious as to what she found so amusing.

“Nothing,” she replied, enigmatically.

“I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you later, when you’re older.”

“Lo, I’m older now. I’ll always be older. So, out with it.”

“Where are we going now, Daddio?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. . . some dive bar.”

“That should be easy enough,” I said as I got the car started and, put the top down, and pulled out into the busy road by the beach.

No sooner had we gotten stuck in the see-and-be-seen crowd of the resort road, than Lo leaned back with one high-heel shod foot dangling seductively over the edge of the door and the other up on the dash as she flashed me, venting up her skirt in the warm, humid, sea-salty air.

“Lo, you’re doing it again?”

“Doing what, Daddio?”

“Flashing in public.”

“Am I? But we’re in the privacy of our own vehicle.”

“Lo,” I said, as I gave her a side-long glance, trying to focus on traffic.

“You like, Daddio?” she asked.

That night I surprised even myself by having dinner reservations, chocolate, cupcakes, roses, and a card all lined up. Good job, HH. I congratulate you. When we got to the red rented convertible, I popped the top down and looked in the back seat, saying to Lo, “Oh, look there, someone must have left something in the car before we rented it.”

She looked over the bucket seat and saw, sitting on the leather behind her, the scarlet box of chocolates, the bouquet of roses, a box of pink-frosted cupcakes, and a cardinal colored envelope.

Hopping in, she tore into the card. It was an e. e. cummings poem and a little note from me.

She read the e.e. cummings poem and looked at me seductively and said, “Soon I’ll be-e cumming too.”

She then opened the cupcakes and slowly sank her mouth over the pink-frosted top, taking a slow, seductive bite.

“Lo! We’re on our way to dinner,” I jokingly rebuked her. “You can’t eat dessert before dinner.”

“But Daddy,” she said, looking at me with frosting on her lips. “you know that I can’t pass up a good cream filling.”

“How did you know it was a cream filling? You’ve only just had the frosting.”

“I wasn’t talking about the cupcake,” she said as she bit into it again. She then leaned over the seat and gave me a big, wet, frosted kiss. “But I know that you know that cream filling is my favorite and so I figured you got me what I wanted.”

Secretly, I delighted in seeing her eat the cupcake. A certain kink, that is, if she was into it too, which she most definitely was not.

We got to the restaurant and Lo was wearing a cute, short red dress and matching pumps. She looked adorable. I could tell that all eyes were on her, just as she likes it.

“Lo,” I said as we sat at our romantic, candle-lit table, “you look better than ever!”

“Oh, go on,” she said, vainly. I love her vanity.

“Really, they say that men get better looking with age and that may be true. But you, my dear, look better to me every day we’re together.”

She slipped her right foot out of her sexy shoe under the table and lifted it to rub my leg up and down, showing her appreciation of my sincere, but flattering words.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“Why not, Daddy?”

“Because I may have to ravish you right here and now, rather than wait until we get back to the hotel and in bed.”

“Sex is not just something that happens in bed. Sex is a lifestyle.”

“You should write adult fortune cookies.”

She continued to rub my leg up and down, stretching now to touch my crotch. Her antics were hidden by the long tablecloth draped over the cozy round table, but I have no doubt an onlooker would be able to tell what she was up to.

After our meal, the waiter asked if we’d like dessert. I looked at Lo. “I really shouldn’t, I had the cupcake in the car,” she said.

I looked at the waiter and ordered an espresso and the red velvet cake for the lady.

After the waiter left, Lo said to me, “Daddio, I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then do it. Why not? It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

The cake and espresso came and I almost did too as I watched Lo eat the decadently delicious confection.

“Let’s go to the hotel and order a whole cake for you to eat while I eat you out,” I suggested, eager to have my luscious little Lo.

“Not yet, Daddio,” she said. “It’s early. Let’s go out for a few drinks first.”

“But I want you so much right now,” I said as I watched her tongue lick her red lips of the crimson cake crumbs.

“I’ll give you an appetizer in the car.”

We got in the convertible and Lo turned toward me in the red leather bucket seat. She spread her legs and rubbed her pussy over her cherry colored panties.

“I like how your entire outfit matches.”

“I’m good like that.”

I drove down the main drag of the city and Lo let the seat go back, lifted her feet onto the dashboard, and removed her panties. “I won’t be needing these where we’re going,” she said as she tossed them high in the air. I saw them fly upwards and then down onto the road behind us.

“Lo!” I scolded.

“She laughed.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of us.”

“Oh, Daddio,” she said, rubbing my arm, “don’t be so rigid about the rules. Are you rigid?” she asked, moving her hand down to my cock.

“Like a ruler,” I said.

“If only you were twelve inches!” she exclaimed.

I parked the car and we went into a cute little bar called “Rosebud & Thistle.”

“Remember Citizen Kane?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said as we walked to the joint.

“Rosebud.”

“What about it?”

“That was the last word he said.”

“And the name of his sled.”

“Did you know that it was also what William Randolph Hearst called his wife’s clit?”

“Now you’re just making that up,” she said skeptically.

“I appreciate your esteem of my creativity, but that’s a fact.”

“Well, why don’t you have a pet name for my clit?” she asked peevishly.

“Because, to me, you’re so much more than your clit.”

“Good save,” she said as we walked in the bar.

Inside was drenched in dim, romantic, rubicund light with lots of tufted leather love seats and a long bar with classic, 1950s style shiny red leather and chrome stools.

“Bar or booth?” I asked Lo.

She scanned the space and settled on the bar, leading me to the far corner. We found two vacant stools kitty-corner to each other. She made for one that was next to a lone gentleman who stared into his dwindling drink. She interrupted his ponderings to ask if the stool was taken and he politely invited her to sit. She slid up on the stool which, given her diminutive size, meant that her feet didn’t touch the ground. She smiled at him and I could see her eyes penetrate his dark soul.

Immediately she initiated small talk with him, telling him that we are from out of town and never had been to this place before. “Is there something pretty and sweet that catches your eye?” she asked before adding, “on the menu.”

He began to make a recommendation, but before he could even get it out, she interrupted him and said, “You know,” grabbing his elbow, “I’m in the mood for something stiff.” He looked at her, his eyes growing a little wider. “What are you drinking?” she asked.

He simply said, “Whiskey.”

“Straight?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, I’m not straight,” she said, “I want something complicated.”

She looked at the drink menu and put her finger to her lips, contemplating the choices in her mind.

I cleared my throat since throughout this award-worthy performance, I had remained silent.

“OH!” said Lo, introducing me, “This is my man, HH. HH, this is. . .”

Obviously she didn’t know his name.

“Ron,” he said.

“Hi, Ron,” I said.

“HH, will you order me a pomegranate martini? I’m going to freshen up,” she said as she attempted to scooch off of her stool. But the sliding down lifted up her red dress and nearly exposed her rosebud.

“Whoops!” she exclaimed, waiting just long enough for Ron to see before pulling down the front of her dress.

Lo gave me a peck on the cheek and disappeared.

I sat at the bar making conversation with Ron for a few moments before Lo returned.

“So, Ron,” she said almost immediately, “why are you here all alone on Valentine’s Day?”

I felt that that was none of Lo’s concern, but there was no putting the question back in between her just glossed lips now.

Ron went into a long story about breaking up with his girlfriend of four years only a few days ago. Turns out she was cheating on him.

“What can I do to cheer you up?” asked Lo, sliding her dress up.

“You’re already cheering me up,” he said with great appreciation in his voice.

Lo’s drink came.

“How’s your drink?” I asked as she took a sip.

“It’s wet.”

“Your drink?”

“That too.”

Soon she ordered a slice of strawberry shortcake.

I took great delight in seeing her eat her third dessert and flirting with Ron as I sipped my Manhattan.

“Mmmmm, this is so fucking good!” she said as she took another bite.

“‘Fucking’ is unnecessary and vulgar,” I replied.

“I don’t agree at all. For me fucking is completely necessary and appropriate.”

“Only if you’re doing it,” I said.

“That’s what I meant,” she responded immediately. “Why, what were you talking about?”

“I was talking about your vocabulary. You have a dirty mouth.”

“Not nearly as dirty as my mind.”

Then Lo turned and offered a taste of the cake to her new friend and he took it. “Isn’t that just heaven?” she asked as her right hand rested his left arm on her bare leg. He nodded yes and I could see him rubbing her thigh. When the cake and drinks were consumed, Lo paid the bill, pulling some dollars out of her ruby purse.

“I would have got that,” I said as the bartender took Lo’s cash.

“That’s ok, Daddio,” she said, “this has been my treat.”

Lo kissed Ron on the cheek, slid awkwardly off the stool again, and wished him a happy Valentine’s Day, adding, “Next time, let her cheat – it’s more fun that way.”

Lo put her arm around mine and we went out to the car.

“Lo, you were very bad in there,” I said.

“Was I?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I thought I was very good.”

When we got in the car, she kicked off her heels and put her feet up on my lap. “Rub them, Daddy,” she said.

I caressed her toes and instep with my left hand and she moaned.

“Did you like Rosebud, Daddy?” she asked.

“You mean the bar or your clit?” I asked back, looking at her rub her pussy as I pulled out of the parking spot.

“Yes,” she said enigmatically.

“I liked watching you eat three desserts,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll get donuts for breakfast.”

“I’m like the perfect donut – delicious, hot, fresh, with a lovely hole.”

“You sure have a way with words,” I said.

“My tongue is wicked, that’s why it’s red, but my soul is pure as the driven snow.”

“Well, that wicked tongue of yours was really charming the pants off of good ole Ron.”

“Can it charm the pants off of you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I looked at her, driving distracted.

“Take your cock out.”

“Lo, I’m driving. In a convertible. On the main street of this city.”

“Exactly,” she said, wiggling her toes over my lap.

At a red light, I unzipped and pulled out my hard shaft.

We drove on and as we did her feet and toes caressed me. The surprise of it all brought me to an unexpected climax as well, covering Lo’s toes with my warm jizz.

This presented a problem. My trousers were soaked. The seat had a puddle. Everything was wet and sticky. How were we to get into the hotel to clean off?

“Well, isn’t this a fine mess you got us into?” I asked, mimicking Oliver Hardy’s constant refrain to Stan Laurel. But the allusion was lost on Lo. Different generation.

“What do you mean I got us into?!”

“Just kidding, dear. But what are we going to do?”

“Not a problem.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just drive up to the side entrance of the hotel.”

“What are you going to do, put on your invisicloak?”

“Sort of.”

I drove up and Lo said to me, “Leave your phone and wallet in the car and follow me.”

I followed her and she used her hotel key to let us in the pool entrance. She walked as if she was tipsy and, as if she were walking a balance beam, she tiptoed along the edge of the pool before “accidentally” falling in.

After a split second of shock, I kicked off my shoes and dove in after her, fully clothed.

A few of the guests and the staff ran over to the pool. I held Lo in my arms, her red dress clinging to her breasts, her little bare feet kicking and splashing. She faked coughing.

“It’s all right,” I called out. “I got her! But could someone get us a couple of towels?”

Men rushed to help and we both got out of the pool even more soaking than we had been a few moments ago. We wrapped ourselves in the plush white terrycloth towels and I turned to Lo and said, “Pure as the driven snow.”

She looked at me, her mascara dripping down her face, her hair matted down, and she smiled saying, “You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome?! I saved you!”

“By letting you save me, I saved you. Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy.”

Back in the hotel room, after a long hot shower, as I lay naked on the bed watching Lo brushing out her hair, I put on a song that summed up Lola’s V-Day shenanigans. It’s called, “What Ever Lola Wants,” sung by Sarah Vaughan

Whatever Lola wants
Lola gets
And little man little Lola wants you

Make up your mind to have (your mind to have)
No regrets (no regrets)
Recline yourself resign yourself you’re through

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

Whatever Lola wants (Lola wants)
Lola gets (Lola gets)
Take off your coat
Don’t you know you can’t win (can’t win you’ll never never win)

You’re no exception to the rule
I’m irresistible you fool
Give in (give in you’ll never win)

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

When she came out of the bathroom, she said, “Damn straight! And now I’m coming for your cock.”

She crawled on the bed and, just to tease her, I said, “I thought I’d read a little.”

She spread her legs and replied, “Read between the lines,” as she placed her middle finger between her lush red labia.

“Looks like it says, ‘Rosebud,’” I said as I indulged in my dessert.

Money, Booze, Sex, & Lola

Posted on December 16, 2017 by Lola Down

“Did you see this?” she said, holding a piece of mail in her hand and waiving it in the air. I could tell by her tone and the scowl on her face, we hadn’t won the Publishers Clearing House prize.

“What?”

“You bounced our rent check! That’s what.”

“I bounced it?!”

“Yeah, you.”

“Well, it’s our checking account.”

“Yeah, well you’re the one responsible for balancing the books.”

“Oh, so because I do more than my fair share of work, I am also responsible? No good deed ever goes unpunished in this house!”

“You’re not responsible because you take on the balancing, you’re responsible because you fucked up the balancing.”

“How the hell am I supposed to balance a checkbook when you have the debit card and spend through our cash?”

The fight went on like this for some time before I finally walked out the door.

My phone rang. I didn’t answer. I was in the car with no particular place to go other than away.

The phone rang again. Again I didn’t answer. I just grew even more heated. Why should we talk when we’re both angry?

A text came through, “You’re being conflict-avoidant again.”

At a red light I texted back, “And you’re being annoying again.”

The light had changed and the guy behind me honked his horn before I had time to hit send. I gave him the finger. Asshole.

I drove to my office – my refuge from the storm.

She called again.

“What?!” I said, answering the phone.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a contrite voice.

I wasn’t expecting an apology. I was expecting a continuation of the fight. My tone was completely over-the-top. But I wasn’t ready to apologize yet. Her apology was met with silence.

“Are you there?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“And?” she asked.

If she was looking for a reciprocation of an apology, then she was sorely mistaken.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Come home,” she said.

“No.”

“Are you going to the bar?” she asked.

“I wasn’t planning on it, but that’s a good idea.”

“No! Come home!”

“I might. It depends on if I’m coming home to a hornet’s nest or not.”

“You won’t! I promise. You’ll come home to a horny-nest!”

“Lo, sex isn’t the answer to every one of life’s problems.”

“I’m not looking for answers, I’m looking to get off.”

I returned home, a little more calm.

We talked about money a bit more in quieter tones. I explained that our finances are just a bit short right now, “but I’m confident things will be better next month.”

“That’s just the problem,” Lo said, exasperated, “you always think that next month will be better than this month. What if it’s the same? What if it’s worse?”

“So you’re saying that my worst quality is that I’m an incorrigible optimist? – I can live with that.”

“No! I’m not saying that’s your worst quality, but that’s what you hear because you are an incorrigible optimist.”

I fixed myself a whiskey on the rocks.

We talked some more before agreeing to revisit the problem another day. She suggested going out that night.

“Out?!” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s go out and have a good time. Maybe you can watch me flirt with someone.”

“Here we are, scraping together the pennies from our spare-change jar to pay the rent, and you want to go out? I’m sorry, I just find the idea of going out tonight repugnant and odious.”

“At least you can masturbate with your words.”

I shot her a look before taking another sip of whiskey.

“Well,” she said as she spread her legs on the couch and rubbed her pussy, “if we can’t go out, can you at least cum in?”

“Why this sudden erotic twist?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I’ve always been erotically twisted.”

“I’m in no mood,” I said. “You’ll just have to man the torpedoes tonight.”

“I know I don’t look so good tonight,” she said, referring to the mascara that had run when she was crying and the old sweatshirt she was wearing, “but I promise, I feel good,” she said as she put her hand between her legs and rubbed her pussy, revealing that under the oversized sweatshirt, she wasn’t wearing anything else.

“Can I just sleep here tonight?” I asked, feeling tired and comfortable on the couch.

“Are you drunk or just an asshole?”

“Can’t I be both?”

“No, you can’t sleep here tonight. You’re coming in the bedroom. . . and I will be too, soon!”

We went in the bedroom and I got naked and in the bed. As I waited for Lo to get out of the bathroom, I dozed off to sleep. I awoke to find her straddling me, naked, grabbing my cock and using it as a dildo to rub her clit. I heard her moaning and then fell back to sleep.

The next day I saw that she made a Facebook post at two in the morning. I asked her about it. She told me that she couldn’t sleep. I asked her if she jilled it. She said, yes. I asked, “To what?”

“I used you.”

“What?”

“I licked your soft, little, good-for-nothing dick in your sleep until it got hard and then I used the tip of it to jill my clit.

“Yeah, I saw that, but that was right before I fell asleep, around ten o’clock. You made your post after two in the morning.”

“Well, it worked the first time, so I did it a second. . . and a third.”

I went to sit up and get out of bed, but my body ached and I moaned.

“What’s the matter?” she asked me.

“Nothing.”

“You’re hung over,” she stated.

“No I’m not. I’m sick. I’ve been fighting off a cold.”

“You’re dehydrated.” Her go-to diagnosis.

“No. Didn’t you see how much water I drank last night?”

“I didn’t see you drink any water.”

“I drank it right in front of you.”

“You drank two whiskeys. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, and what was in the whiskeys? – Ice!!!”

“Why do I even try?”

“I wasn’t even going to have one, but I was so agitated, I felt compelled to have a drink.”

“And how do you explain the second?”

“Well, after the first, my throat didn’t hurt anymore and I was feeling quite good, so I thought: if one caused that much improvement, two will be even better.”

“And was it?”

“Last night it was.”

“And now?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“Well, it was a bad idea.”

“I may be great at making bad choices, but at least I’m great at it.”

“You have to preserve yourself.”

“I’ll buy a jar of formaldehyde.”

“As long as you use it to keep your cock stiff and hard.”

“Watch it babe. One of these days I’ll be dead and then you’ll miss me.”

“Yeah, but I’ll be married to a rich guy and I’ll have his money to console me.”

“Money won’t make you happy.”

“I wouldn’t know, but I’m willing to give it a shot. Have I told you my plan? I’m going to marry a rich man and then keep you on the side.”

“Stop promising and hurry up and do it. I ain’t getting any younger here. My plan is to grow old disgracefully, and you’re just the gal to help me do it too.”

Cake & Bar – Interview with a Kinky Amateur Porn Couple

Posted on November 25, 2017 by Lola Down

In the past we have periodically featured some letters and guest posts from some of our readers. Because we’ve received so much mail in the past year, we are now including a regular feature of kinky letters and write-in questions. To start us off, we begin with a lovely couple that go by the names of Cake & Bar (you’ll find out why below.) They have a Tumblr and they post short films of their sexy passion for each other:

Q: Let’s begin with the name. What’s Cake and Bar all about?

A: Well, Bar loves cheesecake (the actual food) and also loves Cake’s ass, so her name came easy. Bar has a very veiny dick and looks like a big Snickers when it’s fully erect, so that was the inspiration. The name is are also a play on us being an interracial couple.

Q: It looks like you started your Tumblr in July 2017. Is this exhibitionism something new for you two? How’d you get into it?

A: We started our Tumblr after being suspended from Twitter permanently for some odd reason. Tumblr was another way for us to share our sexuality and advertise for our porn movies on Manyvids. We’ve been on Manyvids for a year now, so yes we guess you could say we’re new to exhibitionism and porn making in general. Bar has always loved taking pictures of Cake, so one day he asked if we could start posting pictures anonymously to see the feedback we would get it from other people and the rest is history. For the most part it has been nothing but positive experiences.

Q: How long have you been a couple?

A: We’ve been together 15 years and been married 5 years and we have 2 children.

Q: Are you currently monogamous? If not, what’s the relationship like?

A: Yes, we’re monogamous.

Q: How has been the response to your posting pics and films of yourselves? A lot of Tumblr folks complain of people being rude or having derogatory things to say. That hasn’t been our experience. What about you?

A: For the most part we’ve had positive responses to the things we’ve shared. There’s always going to be some negative, but we take it in stride because it’s expected with the internet.

Q: You don’t show your faces in the pics/vids. Do you worry that you’ll be found out?

A: We don’t worry per se about being found out, but we like anonymity and the masks give us something else to set the scene with.

Q: Do any of your friends/family know about your kinky side?

A: Only 2 of our friends know we make porn and they’re totally supportive of us.

Q: What do you each like (in terms of sex/porn)?

A, Bar: Straight amatuer porn, mostly Interracial and Black. Some professional porn like the Greg Lanskys stuff.

A, Cake: Doesn’t enjoy watching porn as much as she likes shooting it.

HH & Lo: Thanks so much!!!!

Cake & Bar: You’re welcome and thanks for your patience with our response.

Some photos from Cake & Bar getting off to Lola (more can be found at their Tumblr and at loladown.tumblr.com):

Truth Stick

Posted on October 24, 2017 by Lola Down

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

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

“What about it?”

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

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

“Oh boy.”

“Hopefully many boys!”

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

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

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

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

“Lo, wait till we get home, ok?”

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

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

“Undoing what effort?”

“My diet. Losing weight.”

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

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

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

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

“Lo, it’s already ten o’clock.”

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

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

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

Silence.

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

Silence.

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

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

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

“That’s it, Daddio.”

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

“Watch it!” she yelled at me.

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

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

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

“Not so fast, Daddio.”

“We’re home.”

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

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

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

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

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

“Are we discussing romance or. . .”

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.”

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

“How about we take this inside?”

“OK, pull down your pants.”

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

“Oh, right.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No it’s not.”

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

“I should beat you with my Truth Stick!”

“Yes! That’s all I want!”

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

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

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

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

Bigger, Harder, Longer

Posted on October 9, 2017 by Lola Down

Carrying a mug of coffee, I walk in on her just as she is squirting, pulling the Hitachi away from her clit. Her hands scrunch up the sheets under her and her legs are spread. Her head lifts and her breasts heave as she breathes quick breaths, screaming, “Oh Fuck! Oh FUCK! OH Fuuuuck!!!” She looks over at me and says, “Don’t just stand there, get me a towel!” I do so.

“I just came to tell you breakfast is ready.”

“Thanks for the coffee, Daddio!”

“When you’re ready, I’ll see you at the breakfast table.”

“But you didn’t kiss me good morning.”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I did – all night long.”

“Yeah. I had to punch you to get you to stop and let me sleep.”

“Well, those were your good morning kisses.”

“I want one now.”

I lean over to kiss her good morning. She lets me kiss her on the lips before pushing my head down between her legs. “I meant there,” she says.

“Lo, I’m not going to eat you out before I eat breakfast. It’s on the table getting cold!”

“Just one kiss, Daddio. Please.”

I indulge her. One kiss turns to a full-on tongue-fuck-fest of every area between her legs from the small of her back to her bellybutton. Luckily she cums quickly. I pull back and go into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Her juices have a way of soaking my beard and mustache. I look up, into the vanity mirror over the sink and see her preparing to pound herself with a dildo.

“OK, that does it!” I call to her. “I’m just going to throw out the breakfast I made.”

“No, Daddio, I’ll be there in. . .” Her words trail off as she becomes preoccupied with the instrumental manipulation of her puss.

I walk out of the bedroom, my hard-on leading the way. I sit down at the breakfast table alone and eat the luke-warm eggs and toast while I hear her sing-song voice of oohs and ahs crescendo from the bedroom.

When we’re both done, I stand up, put my plate and glass in the sink and I bring her her breakfast on a tray.

“Oh, breakfast in bed!” she squeals, leaning over to put her toys away safely stashed under the bed.

“If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain will come to Mohammed.”

“Daddy, I’ll cum to anything.”

“Don’t I know it! What did you cum to today?”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” she says, looking guilty.

“Why? Because you let your eggs and toast get cold?”

She shakes her head, no.

“What is it then? That you used my mouth, but kept all the orgasms to yourself?”

Again she shakes her head in the negative. Keeping orgasms to herself gives her no guilt.

“Then what?”

She passes her phone to me. I look at it. It’s a photo of a giant black cock.

“A friend of yours?”

“Not yet, but I hope someday.”

“Who is it?”

“Just a fan.”

“A fan of your pics, not my writing I assume.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him about it.”

“What’s he have to say for himself?”

“I don’t know. He just sent me this pic and. . .”

“And it’s got you all preoccupied.”

She shook her head yes with a guilty look on her face. “I want it, Daddy!” she said like a girl asking for a big lollipop at the circus.

I turn to leave the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“To do the dishes.”

“I’ll do it!”

“No, I’ll do it. I don’t like the way you do it. Besides, you have to eat your cold breakfast.”

“Why do you wish to maintain control all the time?”

“It’s not a matter of retaining control. It’s a matter of maintaining standards.”

“You have so many standards. Double standards.”

“I only have one standard. . . the best.”

“That’s my line,” she says, followed by, “but, if you’re speaking about me, then go on.”

I finally walk out the bedroom into the kitchen. As I’m in the midst of putting dishes into the dishwasher, Lo saunters up to the entrance of the kitchen naked as the day she was born, she turns to me and says, “Are you jealous?” She’s always trying to get me jealous, to no avail.

“Lo, you’re standing right where the neighbors can see you through the window, you know.”

“Does that make you jealous?”

“No. But it may make the neighbor’s wife jealous!”

“Phhh,” she sounds dismissively, bending over to give the neighbor a more explicit view. As she’s bent over, she says, “I’m just a hotwife with an exhibitionist’s streak and a loving man who can use his fingers to type out stories that make people come back for more.”

“I don’t think your big friend was coming back for my writing.”

“Well, I can’t help it if behind every good nympho is a line of men waiting to fuck her and behind every bad nympho is a longer line.”

“Which one are you?”

“Fuck me, Daddy, and you’ll see.”

“No, Lo, I already know. I was just testing to see if you would admit to it.”

“The line behind me is very long, very hard,” she says as she reaches over and grabs my cock.

“That doesn’t make sense. How is the line hard?”
“Fuck me and I’ll show you.”

She bends over, this time with her rear towards me rather than toward the window.

“Are you still doing the same old thing?” I ask.

“You mean you?” she asks, looking at me from between her legs.

“Very funny. This ‘old thing’ is going to work.”

“Work on me!”

“Didn’t I make you cum this morning? – and you squirted all over me and the bed!”

“That was a drop in the bucket.”

She wiggles her ass, like she’s playing charades. So I guess, “You’re horny.”

She sees the bulge in my khakis. “And you want me.”

“Yes, Lo. I always want you. But sometimes I have to actually go to work.” I walk over to her and give her wiggling bum a good smack.

“Mmmmm,” she moans, “again!”

I repeat.

“I love spankings,” she says, “they’re like applause, but on my ass! Let me hear how much you like my ass.”

I ‘applaud’ her five or six times. But I do no more than applaud. I then walk out of the kitchen.

“But Daddy,” I hear her call down the hallway, “what about my encore!”

I leave the house and go to work, but on my way home that afternoon, I stop and run a special errand for Lo. For a while now I’ve wanted to try a cock sleeve. I run into my local adult toy shop and peruse the possibilities. After a careful review, I decide on one that is a total of 11 inches, dark brown in complexion, very realistic, and best of all, has a ring to wrap around my balls to anchor the sleeve in place.

Back at home I find that Lo has invited a few people over for a little get-together. Unaware that we were expecting company, I have to find a way of sneaking the rather large box in the house inconspicuously. I decide to pop my head in, say hello to the guests, and declare that we need some more beer. I run out to the local store and pick up a six-pack. I throw the toy in the plain brown bag and rush in, crossing my fingers that no one stops me on the way.

They are all in the living room and I call out, “I’m back! I’ll just pop these in the fridge and be right there.” I head to the bedroom first, hide my stash under the bed, and then put the beer in the fridge, removing one for myself first.

Walking in on our little circle of friends, I take a look at Lo and see that she has put on a stunning little number. Her heels, her short-shorts, and her black tank-top with her one-size-too-small push-up bra under it, giving her quite the shelf popping out of the top. What’s the reason for this, I wonder.

I give her a kiss hello and tell her I’m famished, looking at her quizzically.

Lola complains that the meal she prepared didn’t come out the way that she was hoping.

I say, “You know, I don’t think love is blind so much as love is deaf.”

“What does that mean?” she asks.

“You could go on complaining like that all night, but because you look so good, I don’t hear a thing.”

I get a little laugh from everyone there and then the ‘guests of honor’ arrive. Two young men from across the street who had moved in recently were invited by Lo. Brothers. Built. Did I mention young?

“HH, you remember Roy and Gary,” she says, that look of desire in her eye, her tongue running over her lips as she introduces us. “I just thought,” she says innocently, “since we were having people over, I’d invite them as well.”

“Very neighborly of you,” I say.

The rest of the night goes on with Lo dancing that fine line between being a charming hostess and a wicked vixen.

Finally, past eleven, all our guests leave, including the brothers from across the street.

Lo goes into the bedroom and when I emerge out of the bathroom, cock sleeve firmly in place, Lo nearly jumps in fear and fawning over the giant extension between my legs.

“What the hell is that?!” she cries out.

“Just something special I bought for you today.”

“What? Why? Today?”

“Yes. Because you were so enamored of your fan who sent you that pic that was longer than your forearm.”

“But Daddio, you know I love you,” she says, reaching out to grab the long appendage and feel its heft and girth.

“Yes, but you long for bigger, longer, thicker, and bigger.”

“You mentioned bigger twice.”

“I like how indignant you are.”

“Indignity is my forte.”

“No, lack of dignity is your forte.”

“Daddy, I have loads of dignity. I just prefer to be degraded in the bedroom.”

“Well, do what you do best and get on the bed, spread your legs, make yourself good and wet, and let me pound you with this monster cock.”

“I thought you’d never ask. Oh, and by the way, I’m already super wet. I have been all night.”

“The brothers?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

I do as she wishes and I have to admit that it was a little difficult to fit the bulbous bad-boy in, but once in, Lo takes all of it with grace and gratitude.

“Can I use my Hitachi?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say, since with this sleeve it’s easy for me to lean back and give her enough room to fit her Hitachi over her clit. With the sleeve on, there is significantly less sensation and I welcome the vibrations of the Magic Wand.

Within mere moments Lo is saying, “Pull out! PULL OUT! I have to squirt!”

I do as she says and an impatient stream of spray shoots out on me.

“Holy shit!” she says, as if she had never cum like that before. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe every time it feels like the first. But just as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she rolls over and says, “Take that silly thing off now and fuck me rawdog!”

I obey and begin from behind her and say, “Lo, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t even feel you. That sleeve spread you so wide.”

“Don’t you take this the wrong way,” she says over her shoulder, “but I can hardly feel you. Now fuck me like you mean it.”

I do as she commands and as I pound her from behind, all the wetness covering her ass splish-splashes with each thrust and it makes a slick slapping sound.

I continue harder and faster, hoping to register something within her, and after much striving I finally succeed. I hit my target and she cums even harder than she did the first time.

But then something I’ve never seen before happens. She literally passes out mid-orgasm. She faints from fucking. She swoons from sex. She is out cold for about three or four minutes. When she comes to, she just asks to hold me.

“What happened Daddy?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “One minute you were cumming, the next you were out cold. How much did you have to drink tonight?”

“One glass of champagne.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. I swear.”

“Have you ever fainted from fucking before?”

“No Daddy. Never.”

“How do you feel?”

“Great.”

“Did you cum in me Daddy?”

“No, Lo. I didn’t cum at all.”

“Are you sure?” she asks feeling between her legs.

“Yes Lo. That’s all from you.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were wonderful.”

“But I passed out – literally on you.”

“It’s ok. I took it as a compliment.”

“You would. You have such a big ego.”

“If you’re talking about this,” I say, holding the sheath, “then you’re right. It is big. I had a big ego before, and now it’s even bigger.”

“Daddy, a man’s ego is not his cock size.”

“No. I agree. But the bigger his cock size, the bigger his ego.”

“Well, you’d better watch out. You know what they say?”

“No, what’s that?”

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

“Oh? Is that how it goes? I thought it was, the harder they cum the harder they pass out.”

Fuck Noir

Posted on October 7, 2017 by Lola Down

It was one of those weeks when I was feeling low rather than feeling Lo. A depression had settled in and, too depressed to do anything, I felt like trying to shake it was as futile as anything else I had tried to do in my life. Dark thoughts.

Lo had been trying to seduce me all week. “Fuck it out,” she’d say, “you’ll feel better after.”

“Lo,” I’d reply, “you know that depleting my Chi energy through ejaculation is a certain method for moving my mood from the ground floor into the basement.”

“Well, then just don’t cum. I’ll cum enough for the both of us!”

Though I found her determination amusing, it did little more than evoke a wry smile from my lips.

As a direct result of my lack of amorous affection for her, Lo felt no desire to keep herself primed and ready for a good romp – with me or anyone – and she let her hair-down-there grow out.

Coming to bed one night, I saw her lying naked over the covers. “Wow,” I remarked, unaware of the words escaping my mouth, “you’re looking very 1970’s!”

She immediately pulled the blanket up and over herself, saying, “I suddenly feel a cold draft.”

I can be cruel when in the throes of depression and so I responded with, “You shouldn’t be cold, you have a warm fleece.”

I climbed into bed and opened a book. Beginning to read next to her, she turned to me and said, “With that facial hair you look like a movie villain.”

“You know, don’t you, that the villain of every story is the hero of his own story?”

“Yeah, well you’re the villain – even in your own story.”

“I can live with that. You know that Milton’s great dilemma when writing Paradise Lost was that he had drawn the Devil in such a villainous way that he became the most compelling and interesting character. God didn’t have a chance when the Devil was on stage.”

“Really? Milton? Really? You are the most literary narcissist I ever did meet!”

“I take that as a compliment,” I said to her.

She reached over, more lovingly this time, and she said, “Daddy, you really do need to trim your beard.” She rubbed my rough beard with her hand and tugged a little on it.

“When did you masturbate?” I asked.

She looked guilty and then said, “A little while ago.”

“When?”

“Just before you came into the bedroom. How did you know?”

“I can smell you on your fingertips.”

“Well,” she replied, “if you’re not going to finger me, then someone has to.” As she said this, she moved her hand down to my crotch.

Never one to miss a moment to spoil the mood when my mood is foul, I called out, “Why are your hands so cold?! Were you giving the Ice Man a handjob before he cometh?”

She wrapped her legs around my bare legs and I felt her feet on my feet. I followed my first question with another, “A foot job too?”

“The Ice Man has a warmer heart (and bigger dick) than you!” she said, rolling away from me and grabbing her phone.

I fell asleep to the tap-tap-tap of her texting with someone.

The next day was Saturday and it was a beautiful spring day. Lo was up and about and I was lying on the couch in the living room. Lola approached me like a puppy and said, “Come outside with me!”

“No.”

“Yes. It’s so bright out there.”
“But it’s so dark in here.”

“Look,” she said, opening the blinds, “it’s the first beautiful day of spring! Let’s get out and enjoy it!” She proceeded to open all of the blinds and the windows to let the warm breeze flow through the room.

Like a vampire mortally injured by the light, I got up to leave.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Are you going to come in the bedroom? – Because I’m going to take a nap.”

“I’ll probably cum several times. . . anywhere.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” I said, as I went to the bedroom and locked the door. She followed and was nonplused at finding the door locked.

“Let me come in!”

“No, no! Go, go!”

“I’ll come in, you’ll cum in. It will be even!”

“No.”

“Then at least come out. Look, to get out of this depression you need to do something.”

“Well, I’m not doing you.”

“That was my first suggestion, but I’ll settle for going for a walk or to the gym. Physical activity will help.”

I unlocked the door. She entered the bedroom. “Fine,” I said.

Getting ready for the gym, I put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt.

“You’re not really going to wear that, are you?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“You look like a senior-citizen mall-walker.”

“And? I’m just going to the gym, not a cocktail party.”

“And won’t you be hot? Aren’t you going to break a sweat in that?”

“Oh, gosh, I certainly hope not!”

She was naked and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come here,” she asked seductively, spreading her legs and putting her hand between them, using her fingers to spread her pussy lips.

“No.”

“Don’t you want it, Daddy?”

“No.”

“But I want you. I can see the outline of your big, thick dick in those sweatpants.”

“Lo, what are you going to wear to the gym?”

“Come here and I’ll tell you.”

“No.”

“Please.”

I gave in and walked over to her, convinced she wouldn’t succeed in her seduction. As soon as I was between her legs, her knees clamped on my legs, capturing me and holding me tightly.

“Lo, you’re a human Penis Flytrap!”

“I think you must have Adult ADD. One of the symptoms is relentless bad puns.”

“You’re saying I have AADD?”
“If you want to put it that way.”

“Sounds like my report card from high school.”

“You see, perfect example!”

“I heard once that among entrepreneurs there is an inordinate proportion of people with Adult ADD. I heard that those entrepreneurs are good at multitasking and that they surround themselves with lots of competent people who stay on task. That’s what I do. I’m a captain and I have a lot of first mates.”

“Oh really?”

“Well,” I said more kindly, “my dear, you’re my first first mate.”

“I’m my own captain. I’m no one’s first mate,” she said, putting her thumb to her sternum, pointing to herself proudly.

“Captain, eh?”

“That’s right, and I like to be surrounded by lots of semen.”

“And you say I have bad puns.”

“Give me some semen, Daddy, please,” she asked, pulling my cock out from my sweatpants and putting it in her mouth, to no avail. Having failed in her attempt, she then got on the bed on all fours, flaunting her ass in front of me. “What do you think?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me.

“Booty-full,” I said.

“Punny,” she said sardonically.

“Honestly, Lo,” I said, “I wish that I felt well enough to put my penis in your vagina.”

“Daddy!” she exclaimed, feigning shock.

“I’m sorry dear, I couldn’t think of a more poetic way of phrasing that.”

“That’s ok. I like the direct route.”

“Are we going to the gym or what?”

“Yes,” she said, “because if we’re going to go to a nude beach this year, then we have to get in shape.”

“We?” I asked.

“Yes, we. Us.”

“I’m in a shape. In fact, I think I look flabulous.”

“Flabulous?”

“Yeah. I might not have abs. I might have flabs, but they look flabulous.”

“Well, then,” she said, “at least I feel like I have to get in shape. I think I gained four pounds this winter. Does it show?”

“Lo, you know that I would be happy if you gained forty pounds!”

“That’s nice of you to say but. . .”

“You know, there’s a kink out there called feederism, or something like that, where gaining weight is considered sexually arousing?”

“So, I have to get fat in order to get you up?”

“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying all bodies are beautiful bodies.”

She rolled over on her tum and asked, “All?”

“Well, dear,” I corrected myself, “yours most of all.”

“That’s more like it.”

On the way to the gym, I remarked to her, “I was listening to Billy Joel the other day. Some of his lyrics are just brilliant.”

“Like, ‘I heard about sex but not enough’?”

“Of all his lyrics, that’s the one lyric that you remember?”

“It speaks to me.”

“Well, I was thinking about the song, ‘I Go to Extremes.’”

“What about it?”

“It speaks to me.”

When we got to the gym, Lo wanted to start in the weight room. Our gym is co-ed, obviously, and in the weight room there are lots of big, burly men who love to look at themselves in the full-length mirrors that surround the room on all the walls. Lots of mirrors. There are, of course, some women who, truth be told, also like to look at themselves in the mirrors. They just don’t make as big a show of it as the guys do.

Lo likes looking at everybody, including herself, and, this particular morning, I found out in the worst of ways, she liked to be looked at as well. She went right for the bench press and, asking me to spot her, she got on her back under the bar, her feet flat on the floor, her legs spread, and she asked with great deference, for my advice on lifting the twenty pounds (plus the weight of the bar, of course).

I gave her a few pointers and then stood behind her head, my hands cupped under the bar just in case she needed a little boost. She looked up from the bench where her head was perched perfectly between my legs. Had we been alone at home, she would have had a perfect angle for some fun play. Her tongue ran across her sparkling white teeth and she mouthed the words, “Oh, Daddy!” as her eyes roamed to my crotch.

I rolled my eyes, but soon saw that some of the guys in the gym were stealing glances our way. “Lo, try to get it up, will you?” I honestly didn’t mean to say that. I was talking about the bar, but it just came out that way.

“I’ve been trying all week,” she said. “I think that with this good, hard, steel rod, I can make some progress.” She went to lift the bar and lower it to her chest. With a controlled exhale, she pushed the bar back up. “That was good, right?!” She was very excited by her accomplishment.

“Excellent!” I said, trying to be encouraging. I looked up and noticed more guys’ eyes looking at her. Was it that her legs were spread? Was it that her face was down by my crotch? Was it her breasts heaving as she lay flat on the bench? I couldn’t tell what the interest was, but across the room the guys doing curls with free-weights, causing their already large biceps to bulge, were looking right at Lo. It seemed like she was giving them inspiration.

After bench pressing, we did a few other strength exercises and we didn’t exact quite as much attention. She told me that at the top of the hour a yoga class was starting and she encouraged me to join her in it. “Yoga will be good for you. It’s known to reduce depression.” Reluctantly, I agreed.

In the yoga studio, the mats were arranged in five rows of four deep. People gradually entered and chose their spots and began stretching out. Lola took the front-center mat in the room and told me to take the spot behind her. I did so. I tried stretching. Touching my toes was a challenge. When the room was full, the instructor came in and she stood right in front of Lo. We began easily enough and all was fine, until “Downward Dog.” That’s when I figured out what the guys in the gym were looking at – Lo wasn’t wearing any panties! Here little green yoga shorts were loose-fitting enough for her pussy to peek out when doing the bench press and now at yoga. She looked over her shoulder at me when she came out of the pose and she knew that I knew what a bad girl she was. Needless to say, part of my body was not as limber as it should be for yoga after that. I think that I wasn’t the only one to notice my little slut’s slutty ways. I played it off like I wasn’t with Lo. Who? Her? That one in the front row showing her joie de vivre to the class? Nope, don’t know her at all. I’m just right behind her for the best view.

When the hour was over, Lo made it clear to the class that I was her man and she was my hotwife by grabbing my arm and congratulating me on getting through the entire class. She looked down at the protrusion in my sweatpants and said, “I think you need to walk that off.”

I gave her a deriding look.

All the way home, she walked in front of me wiggling her little ass.

When we got home she said, “I’m so wet from working out.”

“I bet you are,” I replied.

“I’m going to take a shower. Care to join?”

“No. I’ll take one later.”
“Fine,” she said in a huff, “I was going to masturbate in there anyhow.”

“I figured.”

She was in there almost an hour. When she was done, she walked stark naked into the kitchen and began slicing a tomato.

Hearing her futzing about, I came into the kitchen and asked, “Did you take a shower?”

“Yes.”

“Did you jill it?”

“No. I made myself smooth.” She turned from the counter toward me and displayed her silky white skin of her mons pubis to me.

“Then why aren’t you bent over the bed?”

“Because I’m making you dinner.”

“Can’t I have an appetizer first?”

“Oh, now you want it? What happened to your depression?”

“I’m just asking for a small taste to whet my appetite.”

“Just a taste?” she asked, incredulously.

“Yes. April is abstinence month.”

“Really? Since when?”

“I just proclaimed it such.”

“Well, this month sure won’t last long.”

“I’m telling you Lo, it’s Celibate City for me.”

“Forget it, Daddio, it’s Vaginatown.”

Spring Showers

Posted on September 19, 2017 by Lola Down

It was a beautiful springtime afternoon. After about three days of storm clouds, rain, wind, and cold temperatures (one should not have to wear a scarf in May!), finally the gray skies gave way to blue and that round, yellow orb appeared. What’s that thing called? Oh yeah, the sun! Birds began singing, and for the first time I realized that the tulips, azaleas, forsythia, dogwoods, and magnolias had bloomed! Could it be? Had the April showers that didn’t respect the calendar finally give way to the May flowers? I was so delighted I decided to leave work early and speed home. I was hoping to meet Lo just as she arrived from her job so we could take a walk together and enjoy this miraculous occurrence.

I got home, not expecting anyone to be there yet. I made for the bedroom to change out of my suit and tie and put on comfortable walking pants and sneakers. I opened the bedroom door, only to shock both myself and Lo who was lying on the bed, pants around her ankles, knees up, giant dildo between her legs held by one hand, her phone held in the other hand as she intently stared at the screen and let out a scream. It was a bit ambiguous, for her scream began as a scream of surprise at my unexpected arrival, but morphed into a scream of climax as she pulled the dildo out of her puss and squirted on the bed, her knees shaking, her tum writhing.

Holding the dildo in her hand victoriously, she smiled at me and said, “Welcome home Daddio!”

“Hi,” I said, confused. “You’re home early.”

“So are you,” she retorted.

“I thought I’d meet you at home when you got here so we could go for a walk. It’s so nice out.”

“Fuck me.”

“What about the walk?”

“Fuck me first. I’m all ready for you.”

I removed my clothes and stood in front of her by the foot of the bed.

“You know, Daddy, that the blinds are open and the windows are open,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“So the neighbors can see you.”

“Do you want me to shut the blinds?”

“No, I’m just pointing out that you’re blocking their view of me.”

“Oh,” I said, a bit confused. “Would you like to ride me reverse cowboy so they have a better angle.”

“Yes. Then I can see them too.”

I got on the bed, lying on my back, and Lo slid her dripping snatch down on my pole. I could see her sexy ass and back from my vantage point. I saw one hand reach for her tits and the other reach for her phone.

“What were you looking at?”

“When?” she asked, not really thinking about my question.

“When you were jillin’ it. When do you think?”

“Nothing Daddy.”

“Don’t tell me nothing,” I said as she bounced up and down. “What are you looking at now?”

“Nothing Daddy.”

“Lo, I’ll put an end to this little romp right now if you don’t tell me.”

“Fine, but you’ll laugh.”

“Laugh?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Here, Daddy, I’ll show you. Slide up.”

We maneuvered on the bed from the reverse cowboy position to doggy-style. She was on her knees and elbows as I was riding behind her. She held up the screen of the phone so I could see. I didn’t have my glasses on, so it was a bit blurry.

“What is that?”

“That’s a penis, if you can believe it.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I told you you’d laugh. It’s so small and tiny it’s hardly recognizable.”

“That’s what got you off?”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” she said.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m just confused.”

“Can you fuck me a little harder?” she asked. In my puzzlement, I had sort of forgot what I was doing for her. I thrusted with more vigor.

“Why were you looking at that?”

“It’s a fan, Daddy. He has a little member. He can only masturbate with his thumb and index finger. And he cums within seconds.”

“I thought you liked monster cocks!”

“Oh, I do!” she said, “But I also like thinking about the novelty of this. Could you imagine if he put that in my mouth while you were fucking me like this? How easy it would be to tease and lick, suck and take in my mouth. I could take his cock and balls easy!”

Now she was cumming and cumming hard. When she cums like that, her powerful convulsions are so strong that she shoots me right out despite my best efforts to stay in. That’s what happened this time. I was so turned on that I grabbed my cock and was ready to blow. She knew it and she swung around and opened her mouth and put out her tongue as if to say, “Fire at will!” I did and it went everywhere. She was covered.

She sat back and blindly reached out her hands for a towel. When I recovered my composure, I got it for her. She wiped herself off and said, “Thank you, Daddy. I’m so glad you can always give me what I want.”

“Not always,” I remarked.

“Well, you always let me have what I want.”

“That’s true.”

She went to the bathroom and cleaned off and when she returned, I asked, “How about that walk?”

“Can we fuck just once more?”

“Lo, I’m down for the count,” I said, looking at my limp, long pleasure part.

“Fine,” she said. “You get ready, I’ll be right out.”

I put on some comfortable clothes and went outside and sat in the lawn chair next to the house. The beautiful day had enticed the neighbors to come outside and clip some hedges. As I sat there, we all could hear Lola’s screams from inside the bedroom window.

“OH! FUCK! OH! Fuck fuck fuck!”

I smiled nervously at the neighbors and waved and said, “She must have stubbed her toe.”

Mercifully, Lo’s howls were brief and when she came outside wearing her slutty shorts, I could see the neighbors’ judgments as if they were in thought-bubbles above their heads. Both Lo and I received their condemnation as a compliment.

We started on our walk and about two blocks down the street Lo stopped. She looked up at me, motionless for a moment. Her knees were pressed up against each other as she held onto my arm for support.

“Lo, are you ok?” I asked.

She raised her index finger so as to say, “Give me one second.”

I waited.

“We have to turn back,” she said.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I was very worried.

“I just squirted, again.”

She turned around and, walking up the hill, I could see her blue-jean cutoffs were soaked in the crotch and it was dripping down her inner thigh.

We scampered home and waved at the neighbors nervously as we slipped in the front door.

So much for the end of April showers.

Game Time

Posted on September 10, 2017 by Lola Down

It was Thursday. The Thursday before Super Bowl Sunday to be exact. It was just your average Thursday until, unable to shake a persistent cold, I went to the doctor. After a check-up, X-rays and bloodwork, I was diagnosed with pneumonia and ordered to get bedrest. Lo, of course, was as caring and fussing as the most attentive nurse and she took pity on my pain and suffering.

“Daddio?” she said Thursday night.

“What?” I replied in a raspy whisper.

“You know, it’s been so long since. . .”

“Lo, don’t tell me you want to fuck.”

“OK, I won’t tell you,” she said, reaching her hand to my groin, “but I’ll show you.”

She pulled out her double-ended dildo and, before she could go to town with it, I interrupted. “Lo, I just need to get some sleep. If you want to fuck your brains out with that thing, can you do it in the living room?”

“Daddio, it’s been days!”

“According to my calculations,” I replied, “I think it’s been since Tuesday.”

“Yes! You see – two days!”

“Living room.”

She moped away, dildo in hand, her intentions of seducing me shattered.

I didn’t hear much more from her that night because I quickly fell off to sleep, the Nyquil silencing any extraneous noise she may have made during her solo session.

The next day when she came home from work I was recuperating on the couch, watching mind-numbing TV. I turned to Lo and asked, “Why is everything on TV so stupid?”

“Because smart doesn’t sell,” she said without missing a beat.

“Where are you going?” I asked her as I saw her put down her work bag and pick up her clutch.

“Out,” she said simply. She pulled a piece of paper out of her clutch and looked it over.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s my ‘to do’ list.”

“Oh yeah? Whose names are on it?”

“Funny. Do you need anything?”

“Some more orange juice and throat lozenges.”

“What you need is sex,” she said, bending over to put on her pumps.

“I still have a 102 temperature.”

“I’m just saying, sex, it does a body good,” she smirked, looking at me upside-down between her legs.

“It sure does your body good, but mine is beyond repair.”

“Oh, Daddio,” she said as she blew an air-kiss my way, “I’ll get you your OJ and lozenges. Kiss kiss.”

Later, as I lay on the couch wallowing in my misery, Lola sent me a pic on my phone. It was of her topless in panties. “Like?” she asked in the text.

“Where are you and what are you doing?”

“Shopping. I thought you could use a little lingerie photo shoot.”

She was in the changing room of Victoria’s Secret or something, taking seflies for me. I can’t deny that, even in my state of dysphoria, I found her antics alluring.

I texted her which panties I liked. There were not many that I didn’t like.

“Maybe I can sell them on-line?” she texted back.

“People can buy them themselves from the store, you know.”

“I meant my used panties,” she responded.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah. Go for it.”

“I’m coming,” she texted.

“Lo, this is no time for you to be masturbating in public!”

“I mean, I’m coming home now.”

“Oh.” Phew.

Soon she was walking in the door and she asked me how I was feeling.

“The same. Still watching mind-numbing cable TV.” A cooking show was on instructing how to make a baked pastry filled with fruit.

“I love those,” said Lo, sitting next to me. “Do you?”

“I hate tarts. . . . Present company excluded, of course.”

“Mmmm, this is making me hungry,” said Lo. “Did you eat anything today?”

“Yes. I made myself lunch.”

“What did you have?”

“I had a grilled cheese and a chocolate milk.”

“You realize,” said Lo, “that that is the lunch of an average fifth-grader.”

“Are you implying that I’m average?”

“Ugh. Are you hungry?”

“No dear.”

“You should eat.”

“No thank you.”

Lola went into the kitchen and, before long I heard her cussing at something. I got up and saw her having a devil of a time trying to flip her omelet. “Stand back,” I said, “it needs a man’s touch.”

“Well, I know something does,” she said to me. After I flipped it she asked, “Do you want me to blow you?” and she dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor.

“No, I don’t want you to blow me. I’m sick.”

“And I’m horny. Each of us can cure the other,” she said looking up at me, fumbling in my pajama bottoms for my cock.

“Lola, your omelet is ready.”

She sat down and I served her. As she ate she asked me, “How do you reconcile my silly and sexy sides?”

Sitting across from her, nursing a drink of water, I said, “You’re a complete cable package with porno channels and Comedy Central.”

“I like that,” she said. “I can’t wait to show you my new panties.”

“You already did – virtually.”

When we went to bed, I was still feeling miserable. I rejected Lola once more and she made a little tent of the sheets and opened up her phone and went to town on herself to who-knows-what naughtiness of pornographic material. We had gone to bed early, around nine, and when I woke up around eleven, she was still at it. Ignoring her, I used the bathroom and returned. She didn’t even notice my brief absence, or at least she didn’t indicate any notice.

The next morning, Saturday, she sauntered naked into the living room where I was sitting, sipping my tea and honey. “Morning dear,” she said.

“Oh, what a long fucking night,” I responded, having slept very poorly.

“Back in the day we’d have a long night fucking,” she quipped, followed by, “Those days can happen again, Sugar.”

“Not today they won’t!” I insisted, exhausted by her libido without having enjoyed any of its fringe benefits in days.

“Awww,” she said, cuddling up to me, “still not feeling well?”

“A little better,” I said. “At least I’m hungry. That’s a good sign.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” she offered enthusiastically. “How about pancakes?”

“OK.”

She went to the kitchen and I followed her when I could smell the delicious aroma.

“Uh oh,” she said.

“What?”

“Too high, too long.”

“What?”

“My pancake. The heat was on too high and I left it on too long. It burned.”

“Oh no it didn’t. That’s just how I like it!”

I ate and was feeling better. We needed to do food shopping and I offered to go with Lola to the store. She drove and when we got there, she said, “You stay here. I’ll go in.”

“No, I can go,” I protested.

“You rest. I’ll go in.”

“Why can’t we both go in?”

“I’ll give you three good reasons: I’ll make it quicker, cheaper, and easier. Now that I think about it – that’s exactly what people said about me in college.”

“You are incorrigible.”

When we got back home, having missed work on Friday, I tried to do a little work from home that afternoon since I was feeling slightly better (at least I had no fever). Lo came in the room, naked again but for her new thong, trying to seduce me. I tried telling her that I had a lot of work to do. “I’m really quite behind.”

As if on que, she bent over and showed me her ass, the thong hardly visible.

“That’s quite a behind too,” I said.

“And it’s all yours, Daddio.”

“Let’s not exaggerate. All?”

“Well, you can have it all right now, if you want. And then later someone else can have it all.”

“At least you’re more accurate now.”

“Well?”

“Not now darling.”

“Fine!” she said, pouting. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Fine.”

Later she appeared, all dolled up, wearing her favorite earrings designed like little anchors and a sweater with a nautical theme designed into it.

“Well, don’t you look cute,” I said, trying to be nice.

“I look like a little sailor!”

“Trying to find semen.”

She threw a pillow at me. “You’re crude and rude!”

“It’s true.”

“Even if it is true, you have a vulgar mouth.”

“As Jesus said, it’s not what comes out of the mouth that makes it vulgar, it’s what you put in.”

“Well, darling, when I come back home tonight and tell you what I’ve put in it, I guarantee that Jesus never imagined such a string of words coming out of anyone’s mouth, especially not from such a little angelic beauty as I.”

“I can’t wait. Pack your condoms! A sailor doesn’t want to get caught without a rain jacket!”

“Don’t you worry,” she said as she kissed me goodbye.

I heard nothing from her the rest of the night.

When she got home, long after I had turned in for some much needed sleep, I heard her undress and slither under the sheets, pressing her chilly skin up against my nice, warm, almost feverish body.

“Did you have a good time, darling?”

“Frustrating,” she whispered.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“We went to a gay bar.”

“Where’d you go and who’d you go with?”

She gave me the details and then told me that they went to see a burlesque show. It got her all riled up without any release.

“And, let me guess – now you are crawling back from your fishing expedition looking for my rod.”

“Let me have it.”

“No,” I said.

“Let me suck it.”

“No.”

“Please. Let me just hold it.”

“Lo, I’m still sick.”

“Me too. I want you to catch what I have.”

“Lo.”

She knew I wasn’t joking around. For a third night in a row she was reduced to playing with her toys rather than me (or someone else).

The next day was Super Bowl Sunday and we had been invited over to Mark and Stephanie’s for the game. I still wasn’t sure if I was up for it. I was feeling light-headed and dizzy, occasionally perspiring and having the chills. I didn’t think it was a good idea. Lo pleaded with me, however. She did her level best to nurse me all morning and afternoon, and when 4:00 came around and a game-time decision had to be made, I conceded and said I’d go.

It was a big crowd and Mark and Stephanie had gone all out to make it a super Super Bowl party. There were dips and sandwiches, a fully stocked bar and coolers of beer, and Mark was even manning the grill outside on the deck next to the Jacuzzi. And apparently it was a no-kids party, since I saw neither hide nor hair of the little rug-rats.

We got there and Lo took as little interest in the game as I did in the food. Unfortunately, due to my infirmity, I had no appetite. Lo, got me comfortably seated close to the TV and then she flitted around in her short skirt and sexy blouse. She looked good and I enjoyed watching her go from circle to circle smiling and seducing with her charms. At one point she came over to check on me and she grabbed my bicep and said, “Mmmm, I want you.”

“You don’t fool me, Lo,” I responded back.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know perfectly well what it is you want.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want Mark’s meat – and I don’t mean all the burgers and sausages he’s cooking on the grill.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Her apology was an admission of guilt. “But he’s wearing that short sleeve shirt and, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” her tongue made a purring sound, “he’s so hot. But I really do want you.”

“You want to hop on my cock and use me while you think about him.”

“Just the same, I still want you.”

“I’m flattered,” I said flatly.

“Come on, I’ve been denied for almost a week now!”

Cock substitutes are no substitute for cock according to Lo.

The party and the game went on close to midnight and when it was over someone – the safe money is on Lo – suggested getting into the hot tub.

By this time, I was long ready to go, but I stuck it out on Lo’s account. She, of course, had no bathing suit, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Mark descended the staircase in his Speedo and carrying a few robes and towels for people. There was room for six or eight in the tub, but I abstained, not wishing to catch double pneumonia. Mark, a couple of other neighbors, and Lo all were game, however. The neighbors and Lo took turns getting out of their clothes and into their birthday suits under their robes in the downstairs bathroom. Then it was out into the cold dark night, on the deck, beer and wine in hand, and, down fell the robes, in went the naked bodies to the tub. I could see the crew from the kitchen window where I stood, next to Stephanie who also chose to forego the midnight hot tub excursion. Whether it was due to disgust at Mark’s behavior, jealousy of Lola, compassion (or some other feeling) for me, or her stated reason, “to clean up,” I don’t know. All I know is that as she collected and cleared off the dirty dishes, I helped by arranging them in the dishwasher.

Occasionally, I peeked out the window that looked out from the kitchen over the deck, but, not intending to gawk, I made conversation with Stephanie, who, I spied, also was monitoring the situation in the tub from her perch behind the kitchen sink.

“It was so nice of you and Mark to have us all over for the game. You two throw a great party.”

“Oh, we’re just so glad you could make it. I was really worried when I heard about your pneumonia.”

“I’ve been taking my antibiotics and I’m no longer contagious, I promise. I’ve been taking my antibiotics for four days now. I’m just feeling lousy at this point.”

“Well, you really rallied for tonight.”

“It’s always nice to see you. . . and Mark and it was sweet of you to invite us.”

“To be honest, we think you two are a great couple!”

“Thanks. I wish I could live up to my part of the bargain tonight.”

“You are. See, we’re getting to talk now.”

The truth was, I was feeling weak-kneed, but was rallying for both Stephanie’s sake and to keep a close eye on Lo.

“I wish I could be more fun. It looks like they’re having a good time out there in the hot tub surrounded by the snow.” I gestured out the window in an attempt to get a sense of Stephanie’s thoughts on it.

“I’m sure Mark is having the time of his life,” Stephanie said, almost to herself.

“What? What’s that?” I asked as she passed me a plate.

“Oh, nothing.” She dismissed her comment.

“I hope that Lo isn’t making. . .” I didn’t know what to say, but luckily Stephanie rescued my faltering ellipses.

“Me jealous? That’s not it. Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes, please do,” I said.

“After our second kid, I just lost all of my sex-drive. I feel terribly guilty about it. I love Mark. I love him so much and I know he loves me.” She grabbed a paper towel to wipe her eyes that were watering up. “But, I just don’t feel it anymore. I don’t know what happened. I want him to be happy and I know that he. . . never mind.”

“He what?” I was desperate for her to continue. “You can tell me. It’s ok.”

“I know he finds Lola attractive. Who wouldn’t? So, let him have his fun. But I shouldn’t say that. Doesn’t it bother you to hear me say that?”

I took ahold of Stephanie’s elbow and I said to her very quietly, “You both deserve to be happy.” I had no idea what I meant by that and I think that Stephanie didn’t know what to make of it either. Those were just the words that came out of my mouth in a moment of connection and compassion.

I was keen on giving her a hug, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure exactly how non-contagious I was and I didn’t know if it would be welcomed at that moment. As I held Stephanie’s arm, she and I both gazed out the window and we saw Lo emerge, naked as Venus from the churning sea, grab towel, wrap it around herself and then she popped into the kitchen.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Lo said.

“Are you ready, so soon?” I asked, half mocking.

“Thanks for being a dear. Yes. I’ll just get dressed and. . .” She closed the bathroom door and a moment later she popped out. We waved a friendly good-bye and thank you to our hosts and their guests, still outside, and then Lo drove home.

“How was the hot tub, darling?” I asked.

“It was good,” she said. She was speeding.

“Take it easy, the cops are just looking for a reason to pull anyone over tonight.”

“I want to get home and do you!”

“What happened out there?”

“Nothing. I just want you. It’s been a long time.”

“Nothing? Really? Now why don’t I believe that?”

“OK, ok. Fine,” she said, reaching over to grab my crotch.

“You’re driving, you know. And this ain’t a stick-shift.”

“I was sitting across from Mark, naked, looking at his big broad shoulders.”

“Dreamy,” I said sarcastically.

“Dreamy,” she repeated, “especially as the steam wafted off the surface of the water. I would keep on ‘accidentally’ popping my nipples just above the water line so he could see.”

“And everyone else.”

“And everyone else,” she repeated, again groping at my crotch. “Are you getting hard?”

“Never you mind and continue with your story.”

“Well, I had one hand down between my legs.”

“You’re bad.”

“I couldn’t help it, Daddy.”

“Did anyone notice?”

“I don’t think so. But, as I stroked it, I kept playing footsie with Mark. He didn’t say anything, but I know he liked it. At one point, he got up out of the tub to grab another beer and. . .” She pulled her hand from my crotch and placed it in hers.

“And what?”

“And he was so hard, he was practically exploding out of that tiny bathing suit he wore!” Her hand was up her short dress.

“You came.”

“I’m cumming.”

“I mean then.”

“Yes. And now.”

“That’s why you wanted to go. You couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Right.”

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You’re going to take me to bed and fuck me senseless!”

That was the last thing I remember of the ride home. I suppose I passed out from exhaustion. The next thing I felt was Lo trying to wake me gently from the driver’s seat as we sat in the garage at home. Like a somnambulist, I found my way to bed. I was the one senseless, not Lo.

The next day, Monday, was a blizzard. Both Lo and I could have slept in. But I had missed work since Thursday of the previous week. I had to go in, at least for a little while. So, early in the morning, before the flakes had fully accumulated, I snuck out while Lo was still soundly asleep, naked in the warm bed. I got to work, feeling much improved, took care of some urgent matters, and then drove home carefully through the poorly plowed streets.

When I got back, I found Lo still in bed. I took one look at her and said, “You masturbated, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

“Well, I’m going to shovel.”

“What should I do?”

“You could help me shovel, if you’re not too wet.”

“I don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Alright. See you later,” I said, and, bundling up I went outside to clear the driveway.

I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t mad. I was actually glad. Yes, I was still recovering from pneumonia. Yes, I had gone into work on a horrible winter’s day when most of the city stayed home. Yes, Lo had been inside all morning, sleeping late, sexing herself up, and probably jillin’ it once more even as I shoveled away. But the thought of her, nestled up under the covers pleasuring herself filled me with joy. I’m a lucky guy. I can lose sight of that sometimes. Not this time. I shoveled with a smile on my face. When I was done, to my surprise and delight, Lo was not in bed, fucking herself silly to her favorite Tumblr pages. She was in a silky black negligee, helping me out of my bundled jackets and scarves, and then bringing me a hot cocoa as she tucked me under a throw on the couch.

“What’s all this for?” I asked.

“I just love you and I want you to know that I’m the luckiest gal in the world to have you, Daddio.”

“What do you want, Lo?” I asked in my Ricky Ricardo tone.

“Nothing, Daddio. Honest. I just was lying in bed and I realized all you do for me. I just wanted to do something nice in return.”

I sipped my hot cocoa and read a little of the Sunday paper that was still lying out on the coffee table from yesterday.

Lola sat on the couch next to me, her left hand slowly made its way under my covers to my crotch. She grabbed my cock and then began pumping it as I read.

“Lo?”

“Yes, Daddio?”

“What are you doing?”

“Do you like?”

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a hand-job.”

She continued for a little while. Then she pulled her hand away and, like a groundhog or ferret, she nosed her way under the blankets, getting her face buried between my legs and went to work on me with her mouth. At a certain point, I put down the paper and began guiding her head gently up and down.

She abruptly stopped before I was ready to spout. “Let’s go to the bedroom, Daddio. I want to tell you something special.”

She led me down the hall, hopped on the edge of the bed in her little black nighty, revealing her naked ass and puss to me. “Mount me,” she commanded. I did as she said.

“What did you want to tell me?”

When she had caught her breath, she whispered over her shoulder, “I was so bad last night.”

“Yes, Lo, you were. That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
“No, there’s more but. . .” She was enjoying herself at this point, too much to talk. She came in about fifteen seconds. As she came she was yelling, “I love your cock! I love your cock!” When she was done she said, “Flip me over and fuck me.”

I did as she asked. I put her on her back on the side of the bed, held her heels up by my shoulders, and went at her.

“Do you think he liked seeing my pussy, Daddy?” she asked.

“Yes, Lo. Who wouldn’t?”
“I had got it all smooth for him.”

“So, you had that all planned out?”

“No. But a woman should be prepared for the unexpected display of her pussy at all times.”

“A woman, or a slut like you?”

“That’s right, Daddy. Tell me what I am.”

“A slut. A trollop. A dirty, cheap, exhibitionist.” I went on and she came to the cadence of my nasty names. She came so hard she sqeezed me right out and squirted on the floor. I grabbed my throbbing rod and watched.

“Can you hold it in for just one more?” she asked. “I’ve got one more BIG orgasm to go. Pleeeease, Daddio. I know you haven’t cum in a long time. Just hold it in a little longer and then you can cum all over my face. Promise.”

“How do you want it?”

“Here,” she said, positioning me on the bed. “Lie back. I want to taste myself on you.” She lay me down on the bed and got on her knees and went to town between my legs. If she wanted me to withhold my orgasm until she had one more, this was not the way to do it. I felt like her face was in imminent danger of being in the direct line of my fire.

She stopped just in time. She knows me (or cock) well. She went to climb up on top of me, straddling my body with her legs, her knees on the bed. Before she lowered herself down on my very stiff and erect phallus, I said, “No. Wait a minute.” I closed my eyes. Just looking at her may have put me over the edge. I took deep breaths, but all I could think about was seeing her getting in and out of the hot tub the previous night. Just the thought was enough to coax a slow orgasm out of me. I tried to change the channel of my imaginings, but it was as if that special was playing on every station!

“Put a condom on me,” I said.

“What?” she asked in disbelief. We never use condoms. We only keep them around for her special guests.

“Put a condom on me. It’s the only way.”

She hopped off, rummaged through the nightstand drawer, pulled out a string of condoms and hastily slid it over my ramrod. The interval was a good distraction for me. When she was done, she resumed her position and began bouncing up and down, pulling her tits. The barrier between her dripping pussy and my hard, throbbing cock was just enough to keep me going without my going too far.

I reached up to her breasts. “Pull and twist,” she said. “Harder.” I was stretching out her nipples by about an inch and then turning them clockwise a full 180 degrees. She wanted more. I pulled further, twisted further. She was moaning and bouncing and dripping – I could feel it on my lap.

“When you cum, call his name,” I said. I wasn’t sure if she heard me. She was in a frenzy with her eyes closed tight, biting her lip, bouncing her tits up and down. “Call out Mark’s name when you cum.”

No sooner had I repeated the instruction than she started yelling, “Oh FUCK! Mark! Fuck! I fucking love your cock! Mark! Mark! Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark!” She was saying his name every time her hips descended down to bounce off of mine. She was riding fast, at a gallop until she stopped, frozen, held it, and gushed a waterfall downward. At that, I finally gave myself permission to cum and I did, filling the condom with all the pent-up desire that I had unspent over the past week. It was amazing.

When we were done, after catching our breath like runners at the end of a marathon, we lay looking at each other. “He really riles you up, doesn’t he?”

“Not like you, Daddio.”

“Lo, after all of that, don’t you think you can tell me the truth?”

“It’s true. You’re the one for me.”

“But he turns you on.”

“A lot of things turn me on. Does that make you jealous?”

“It would, except you’re right. A lot of things do turn you on and if you weren’t turned on by Mel Brooks, Abbi Jacobson, and certain specimens of other species I actually might be jealous. But due to your pansexual nature, I try to take it all in stride.”

“That’s why I love you, Daddo. You really get me.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you rile him up as well.”

“Really?! She said, her eyes lighting up, her body jumping to all fours like a puppy ready to play fetch.

“Yes. Stephanie told me as much last night.”

“What?! Tell me. Tell me.” Her imaginary tail was wagging with anticipation.

“When you were in the hot tub, playing footsie and showing off your tits. . .”

She interrupted with a long moan of pleasure at the memory.

“Stephanie and I were talking in the kitchen and she told me that she and Mark haven’t had sex since there second kid was born.”

“I knew that already.”

“And she went on to say that she thinks we’re a great couple and that Mark deserves to get his rocks off to the likes of you.”

“She said that?!”

“Well, not in so many words, but the message came through.”

Lola was running her tongue over her teeth in excitement now.

“Maybe you should clue him into the blog?”

I saw her wheels turning and the exciting prospect of having Mark getting to see Lola up close in all those sexy pics of her and hearing all about her nymphomaniacal exploits, jackin’ it to her every untoward adventure. But then she said, “No. Impossible. We can’t reveal our secret selves to anyone we know. It’s too incriminating! You didn’t tell Stephanie, did you?”

“Of course not, dear. That’s your story to tell.”

“Well, I did leave a calling card of sorts.”

“You left one of your Lola Down cards there?! But you just said. . .”

“No no no. I may have, accidentally, totally not on purpose left my panties at their house.”

“You what?!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. It was an accident. I think they must have fell when I was picking up my clothes.”

“I’ve heard of Freudian slips before, but this takes the cake! How could you not know you didn’t have your panties on?!”

“I knew I didn’t have them, I just couldn’t find them. They must have fallen out somewhere when I bunched up my clothes after getting into the robe. I don’t know. Should I text Mark to look for them?”

“No! Of course not.”

She gave me a quizzical look.

“Oh no, Lo. Don’t tell me you already did.”

“I just didn’t want Stephanie to find them.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said he found them and could return them to me.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said, ‘That’s OK. You can throw them out. . .or do whatever with them.”

“Lola!” Now it was really Ricky and Lucy.

mysexlifewithlola

The trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.

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