Category Archives: Fetish

Lola is Cumming

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            It’s almost like it’s a trade – sex for her stories.  I feel like I get the better part of the bargain: both sex and her stories.

            More gently than before, I entered her and held her in my arms as her lips whispered in my ear.  “Daddy,” she said.

            “Yes?”

            “I have to tell you something.  But it’s really embarrassing.”

            “What is it?  You can tell me.”

            “No.  It’s a really strange kink.”

            “Nothing’s strange between us,” I said.

            “Well, you know how I’ve been reading and watching Game of Thrones?”

            “Yes.”

            “You know that I know.”

            “Well, there’s one character on there who really gets me all twitterpated.” 

            I know precious little about Game of Thrones, so I didn’t even dare venture a guess.  I do know, from all the press, that there is a lot of sex and violence on it.  Lots of big, buff men and buxom, beautiful women.  The odds are that all of them get Lo twitterpated. 

            “Who might that be?” I inquired.

            “You’re going to think I’m weird.”

            “Lo, you’re delightfully different.”

            “Well,” she said, as she turned onto her back so she could see my face as she told me.  “There’s a character named Tyrion Lannister.”

            “Yeah?” I said, not sure what that meant.

            “He’s played by Peter Dinklage.”

            “OK,” I said, still not getting the full import of her revelation.

            “You know, from Elf.  The ‘south pole’ elf.”

            “Oh!” I said, picturing him in my mind, “Ooooohhhhh,” I said again, realizing what she was implying. 

            “Ooooohhhhh,” she said, her eyes shut, as she enjoyed my pole.

            “But Lo. . . ?”

            “So many fantasies about Snow White,” is all she said before she gushed gallons over me as I pulled my sword from her stone.

            When she was done anointing my blade with her holy water, she asked, “Weird, right?”

            “Whatever floats your boat, Lo,” I said.  “Speaking of which, I think we need to change these sheets.”

            Is there any fetish, kink, or taboo that she hasn’t been into?

Divine Destinies

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            As you, dear reader, are well aware, I am of a different generation than Lo.  That doesn’t keep us from having fun.  Frequently I find myself at parties surrounded by people twenty years or more my junior.  For the most part, I’m a good sport about it.  However, there is one activity that these younger folk engage in that I simply cannot stomach: Playing “Cards Against Humanity.”  Call it a delicate sensibility or a prudishness of a bygone era, but I find this particular card game to be repulsive.  Luckily for Lo, I’m a good sport and see that, like all things on this big blue planet, there is something to be learned from it. 

            Perhaps due to my generational difference, not only was I of a dissimilar temperament than those enthusiasts of the game, but I found that I was also ignorant of some of its terminology.  Late one night, while playing this perverse pastime, I happened to pull the card that read: Anal Bleaching. 

What?

            I found myself having to inquire as to what the hell this meant and I was informed by my young companions that this is, indeed, a thing.  Women, it turns out, actually bleach their anus in order that it have the proper luminescent halo around it.  Ass angels, I suppose. 

            Well, my dear reader, allow me to tell you that one of the first times that Lo and I were engaged in a prolonged, pleasurable, and piquant entanglement of bodily parts with the lights on low (and on Lo), one facet struck me as particularly impeccable about her body. 

Later, in the delightful afterglow of my memory, I mentioned it to her one night as we were on the phone and separated by distance, but connected by desire. 

            “Did you like it?” she asked of our last tryst, as if there were any doubt.

            “Very much so,” I responded, seeing her in my mind’s eye.

            “What did you like?”  She’s a glutton for compliments.

            “Everything.”

            “Be more specific,” she demanded, needing to hear each dissolute detail. 

            “You really wish to know what struck me the most?”

            “I do,” she almost whispered in a seductive tone.

            “It’s a little embarrassing to say, especially over the phone,” I said, modest man that I was back then before Lo thoroughly corrupted me.

            “Say it.  The dirtier the better,” she instructed.

            “That’s the irony.”

            “What is?”

            “That it’s dirty, but it’s only dirty because it’s so clean.”

            “I don’t follow.”

            “What I want to tell you about.  What struck me when we were together,” I stumbled, “The thing that lingers in my memory,” I stuttered, “What I can’t get out of my mind is how incredibly clean your asshole is.”  There, I said it!  I could feel my face blushing.  Poet that I am, I could find no more refined way to tell her. 

            “Really?” she almost squealed. 

            “Yes.  Is that, er, inappropriate for me to say?”

            “No.  Not at all.” 

            Mind you, dear reader, this was early on in our relationship.  I had not yet discovered quite how debauched my little Ms. Down was. 

            “Do you want to know how I keep it so?” she asked.

            “I think some things about a woman should remain a mystery,” I answered. 

Lola

            Well, dear reader, now many years on, I can tell you that it was certainly not through “anal bleaching.” 

The Masturbation Gap

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Lo Masturbating, Art by John Sky

            You, dear reader, already know that Lola is an inveterate masturbator.  You also know that I am forbidden from any onanistic activities, unless either explicitly given permission, or told to do so as a performance for my dear Lola.  The fact that there is a gap in our respective frequencies of masturbatory manipulation should come as no surprise to you, and writing about it here would simply be redundant. 

            However, what I do intend on explaining, or rather, complaining about, is the fundamentally unfair masturbation gap that exists between Lola, me, and her fans.  You see, I am not allowed to engage in solo pleasure, not even to Lola’s sexy photos, unless granted permission by Lo herself.  And she takes so much delight in my stymied suffering and enjoys my engorged balls so much, that she rarely gives me the green light.  But with her fans it is another story.  One might think that Lola has no say over what her admirers do in the privacy of their own homes with her pixilated pussy.  But that is incorrect.  One of Lo’s most enjoyable pastimes is to give specific instructions to her loyal lovers (both near and far) about exactly how they are to worship her image, pay tribute to her form, and pleasure themselves. 

One of Lo’s Long Admirers

            One adoring admirer writes to her and asks, “What’s up?” to which she replies, “If you’re looking at my pics, then, your cock.”  She’s not wrong. 

            Another writes to her and asks very politely, “Morning, Lola.  How are you?” to which she replies, “Horny, as usual.  Now jack it for me.” 

            They are more than eager to comply.  It matters not to them if they are at work, home, or, as Lola really likes, lying in bed next to their sleeping wives. 

A Very Happy Fan

            She commands some of them, especially the diminutively endowed guys, to go to a lingerie store, like Victoria’s Secret, and pick out various silk, satin, and lace panties for women.  Then she instructs them to put the panties on and jack it to her pics and cum in the sexy, sheer, tight material – taking pics of it, of course.  An even more intense kink of Lo’s is commanding those same fabric fetish guys to steal the panties from their wives or girlfriends in order to wear while jacking it to Lo’s photos.   

Lo Loves All Her Fans, Big & Little

            Those are the lucky ones.  There are some unfortunate fellas who are stuck in cock-cages and can only enjoy Lo’s photos without any self-pleasure. 

            And then there are the women.  It is such a complement to Lo when lovely ladies from around the globe take photos of themselves jillin’ off to her.  I will admit that I find it very flattering when the women also make a comment about “the steamy writing,” or say, “that story made me cum five times.”  It is nice to know that every once in a while the literary seduction I work so very hard to create from the raw material of Lo’s sexual exploits is appreciated, especially by the lonely women, the married but unsatisfied wives, and the other sexual insatiables out there like Lo. 

A Lovely Couple – He took the pick of her getting off to Lola

            There was a time, early on, when I actually had a small cadre of female fans who wrote to me regularly.  It was, not coincidentally, around that time that Lo took over the email and other social media outlets, telling me, “You do the blog, I’ll spread the word.”

Reading the Blog

            Spread the word. . . yeah right!  She meant, she’ll spread her legs and then disseminate her photos across the internet. 

            But I’m not complaining.  I am glad that our little corner, or crotch, of the blogosphere makes so many people happy, even if it means that I must deny myself the pleasures that others get from my hotwife Lo.  After all, I have to admit that I have nothing to complain about since fans and her lovers alike all tell me how lucky I am.  Can’t argue there. 

The Author After Cumming on Command

Cliterotica

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[In honor of all our friends, such as Cara, Hy, Catherine, and of course, Michael & Molly, who are attending Eroticon this weekend, a little fantasy of what we envision our attending it to be like. Hopefully next year.]

Drawing of Lola by nglare

            “LOLA” – her name lit up the marquee.  As we approached the theater from the street, slick from the recent rain, Lo looked up and said, “Big, bright, beautiful, and inviting.  That’s me alright!”

            We were in England for the annual Literotica convention and somehow we were the headline event for this evening’s performances.  Lo was giddy with excitement. 

            Entering the theater from the side door for performers, there was a flurry of activity backstage.  Everyone was primping and preparing.  Lo, herself, had tried on three different outfits and five different pairs of shoes before settling on the glittery gold sequin top, the slinky green skirt, and the flashy four-inch heels.  “Green and gold,” I said, “the colors of money.”

            We were there to do a reading and book signing, but Lo had plans for oh so much more than that.  Her Marina Abramovic performance-art streak was activated and she had conspired with me to put on a show.  We were to be a Penn & Teller style duet.  She’d be Penn, the showman, and I’d be Teller, the silent sidekick.  She had her props: a little wooden lectern on which she put the book, some paints, paint brushes, markers, and a sign.  The sign read:

Match, Vol. I – $35

Match, Vol. II – $20

Match, Vol. III – $20

Complementary with your purchase:

Squeeze

Tease

Pull

Paint

Draw

Write

Kiss

Suck

Cum

NOT ALLOWED:

Penetration of any sort

Photos

(Mild BDSM is ok)

All prices USD

            After the opening acts, we were introduced to a loud round of applause.  I got butterflies in my stomach and I’m sure Lo did as well.  We took our places on the otherwise empty wooden stage under the hot spotlights.  I stood next to Lo at the lectern with three stacks of books and my portable credit card swipe device plugged into my phone.

            Lo opened the books to the places she had specially chosen for this event and read some select passages: The preface to Vol I, penned by her; the encomium to the color red; a few poems.  As she read each passage in her sweetly seductive voice, she slowly removed first one and then the other strap of her blouse and let it fall, revealing her breasts.  She then wriggled out of both the blouse and her skirt until she stood stark naked but for her sexy heels.  The poems were read in the buff. 

            When she was done the music began – selections of songs mentioned in the books.  I invited the audience members who had pre-purchased books to step up and have Lola sign them while they each took a turn participating in one of the activities mentioned on Lo’s sign. 

            The first ones in line were a bit shy and timid.  They ventured a kiss or a gentle tug on Lo’s nipples while she leaned over to sign one of the gloss nude photographs of her in the book.  A few others took up the Sharpie pen and wrote love notes to Lo on various parts of her body.  Some wrote “Slut” or “hotwife” or “cum here” with an arrow pointing to her puss. 

            As the audience saw the performance taking place, those without books were eager to get in line and I began selling our inventory.  Men took out their cocks and began stroking as they eagerly awaited their turn in line. 

            Some of them stroked it next to Lola as she signed the books and wrote cute comments about the men’s anatomy in the margins. 

            The first man to cum did so on Lo’s feet, filling up her shoes with warm jizz.

            The next man to cum had a powerful ejaculation and managed to hit Lo’s tits with remarkable aim.  He even got a bit of applause!

            A woman was in line and she gave Lo a very warm kiss on the lips and then slid her tongue down Lo’s neck to her glazed breasts and cleaned off the previous customer’s cumtribution. 

            This performance went on for some time, until we sold out of all our books!

            Unfortunately for Lo, all of this fun foreplay was merely a tantalizing orgasm tease.  She whispered in my ear and I briefly disappeared off stage to grab Lo’s favorite toy from one of the event sponsor’s display: The Hitachi Magic Wand.  We plugged it into an extension cord and I brought the large, white device to Lo who proceeded to use it on her clit while sitting in a high stool.  She spread her legs and, within only a few moments filled with tension and anticipation, Lo finally gushed with an torrential outpour of emotion, release, and fluid that covered the stage. 

            After her grand finale, some stage hands appeared at Lo’s side with warm, wet towels and they cleaned her off.  One of them gently removed Lo’s feet, one at a time, from her shoes and wiped them down.  Another person mopped the wooden floor.  Once Lo was cleaned off, she got dressed again and we walked off the stage.  Before exiting, though, Lo took a long bow, but not to the audience, but to the wings of the stage, thus giving the audience one last look up her skirt. 

            Congratulations were showered on Lo and me from our fellow literotica friends and authors and we got ready for the afterparty.

The Orgasm Gap

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When Lola Goes on a Date and I’m Left Alone

            Recently, a new phrase has been popping up in various articles on sex, relationships, and women: The Orgasm Gap.  Sometimes it’s referred to as “The Gender Orgasm Gap.”  It is the result of various studies’ data showing that women in heterosexual relationships have far fewer orgasms than their male partners.  This gap disappears in gay relationships. 

            There’s plenty of literature out there for you to do your own reading into the matter, but what I would like to discuss here is the orgasm gap that exists between Lo and me.  In our relationship there is undoubtedly an orgasm gap, but it is the inverse of the one referred to above. 

I’ve conducted my own non-scientific study.  One October a few years back (I deemed it “O-month,” for “Orgasm Month”) I did my best to count the number of orgasms achieved by Lola (either during coitus or on her own) and the number achieved by me, your faithful author.  The results were 70+ for Lo (not exactly sure of the actual number because I was relying on her reportage of her solo sessions and often she lost count), to my 18.  That’s approximately a 4:1 orgasm gap in favor of the female. 

            Now, in our relationship there are many “understandings.”  I am not allowed to jack it unless specifically instructed by Lola.  That usually means in her presence, so she can enjoy it.  I am not allowed to have sex with anyone outside our relationship.  Lo, on the other hand (so to speak), has no strings attached.  Solo sex, sex with others, accidental orgasms – all are fair game for her. 

            But a while back, when Lo was cross with me about something and thus withholding her pleasures from me, I took matters into my own hands, literally.  I got myself a Stoya Destroya Fleshlight.  It served the purpose at the time.  It also came in handy (can’t seem to get around that double-entendre) one night when Lola was too inebriated to give consent. 

Lola Fingering Stoya

            Lo doesn’t like my using Stoya’s pussy.  Her jealousy reigns supreme.  It matters not that it is literally just a pussy and not a person.  But the other night. . . .

            I had to work late.  I was at the office around 7 pm and I got a text from Lo saying that she was going out to dinner with her friend Candice.  Lo and Candice had become close friends over the past few months.  Candice is a self-described “thick” woman.  I would describe her as lusciously zaftig.  She is heavier than Lo by at least fifty pounds.  When they met, she was in a committed relationship, but that fell apart very suddenly.  Lo became her go-to confidante and wing-woman.  They went to clubs, bars, restaurants together about three or four times a week.  I think Lo enjoyed the singles scene and having someone to share it with.  Candice frequently found fuck-buddies, but was longing for a man who would be a dedicated daddy.  She admired Lo and was particularly envious of our special relationship. 

            Candice would often come over for brunch after her one-night-stands and dish the details about it to both of us over mimosas. 

            And then the other night. . . .

            As I was saying, Lo went out to dinner with Candice.  I thought nothing of it since it had become part of their repertoire.  I figured that Candice was horny and looking to find a cock to bring home for the night and Lo was going to help her, as usual.

            (A little aside here: If I were granted permission to have sex with just one of Lo’s friends, it would be Candice.  I find her voluptuousness very attractive.  But, either out of respect for Lo or lack of interest, Candice has never reciprocated my flirtatious banter with her.  Unless, of course, the juicy stories she tells us about her sexcapades are intended to rouse me, which they do.)

            But when I got home, I found Lo in bed, jillin’ herself silly.  She had all her toys on the bed and it looked like she had used each and every one.  Currently she was banging with the largest of the bunch.  It was stuck to the headboard and she was sliding her ass back, taking it all in, and then sliding forward.  Back-and-forth, slapping her cheeks up against the wood and then easing off.  She didn’t stop when she saw me enter the room.  I sat and waited, patiently by the foot of the bed.  She looked at me as she fucked her dildo.  Our eyes were locked as I saw her desperately trying to get off.  When she finally climaxed, slid off the dildo, and sprawled out in the sheets, legs spread and sloppy, I kissed her hello. 

            “Are you mad, Daddy?” she asked.

            “Why should I be mad?” I responded.

            “Get naked and I’ll tell you.”

            I did as she requested, got in bed next to her, and listened as she told me the following story:

            I went to the restaurant to meet Candice for dinner, but I was early and she was late.  I sat at the bar and ordered a drink while I waited for her.  As I waited, a handsome, young, black man came in and sat next to me.  He was very good looking, very fit, and I suddenly found myself getting very wet. 

            Candice finally arrived and as I was finishing my drink, the young guy got up and went to the bathroom.  I turned to Candice and told her how hot I thought he was.  She admitted to me that she thought so too. 

            When he came back, he paid his tab and got up to go.  But Candice immediately went after him.  She told him what I had told her in confidence, and he returned to the bar and sat between us.  He started up a conversation with me and I found out that he’s a football player for the college. 

            As we talked, he began rubbing my thigh and moving slowly further and further toward my crotch.  I didn’t protest. 

            Eventually he came very close to me and kissed me.  I reciprocated.  But then I pulled away and told him that I was there for Candice – her wing-woman.  She wasn’t supposed to be mine. 

            I think he liked that.  He showed an interest in both of us and the thoughts that went through my mind. . . .

            She didn’t elaborate, so I asked her, “What thoughts would those be?”

            I was fully expecting her to say, “Get in me and I’ll tell you,” but she didn’t.  After a pregnant pause, awaiting her command, I finally got between her legs, poised to strike, but she covered up her crotch with both hands and protested, “No, Daddy!  I can’t.  I’m sorry.”

            “Why not?” I asked, frustrated and eager.

            “I did myself a little too much.  I’m swollen and sore.”   

            Not only did I want her, badly, but I also wanted to hear the conclusion of her story just as badly.  I asked her politely if I could use the Stoya Fleshlight. 

She said, “Why don’t you just use your fist like a real man?”

            “I could ask you the same thing.  Instead of using your Hitachi, your 18” dildo, or your Remus, why don’t you just use your fist like a real slut?”

            She laughed despite her anger as she threw a pillow at me. 

            “Fine, get her out,” she said.

            “You’ll hold it for me?”

            She didn’t answer.  I rummaged through the back of the closet and pulled out Stoya.  I grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer and I got both Stoya and me nice and slick.  Lo took the hefty contraption in two hands and I slid right in. 

            “Comfortable?” she asked.

            “Yes, very,” I said, making her more jealous.  “Go on with your story.”

            “You like fucking her, don’t you?” she asked.

            “Not as much as fucking you.”

            “You like fucking Stoya.  You like that she’s a porn star.  You like thinking about how many men have fucked that pussy already, how many men have cum in it.”

Stoya’s Lovely Lady Parts

            I was getting very turned on by her dirty words.

            “Nothing would be hotter than seeing you make a porno,” I replied.  “I would stand in the wings while the director, the lighting crew, the sound engineers, and of course, the four or five male porn stars stood around your naked body as two or three of them fucked you on camera.”

            “Do you want me or do you want Stoya?”

            At this point, I admit, in my mind, Lola and Stoya were fused into one person as I imagined the set of the film.

            “Fuck her!  Fuck her good and hard!  Come on,” she demanded.  “Fuck that used, slutty pussy.  Cum in her.  Cum deep in her,” she commanded.  I can never resist her commands.  I came and I came hard as Lo pressed the Fleshlight down on my shaft, licking her lips as she watched me crumble as if struck by an arrow of pure pleasure. 

            I never did get to the end of her story that night. 

Lola’s Lolvely Lady Parts

            I have no idea how many times Lo came before I got home, but this is just one example of the so-called “Orgasm Gap” in our relationship. 

Her Porn Addiction

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How deep, how dark, how degraded, just how far down the rabbit hole of porn do you go?

Lola and I had a wedding to attend.  Yes, another wedding.  I couldn’t find my nice black leather shoes.  They weren’t in the closet.  They weren’t under my side of the bed.  So I looked under Lo’s side of the bed – yes, that side where she keeps her dildos, vibrators, anal beads, and other pornographic paraphernalia.  I knew I was entering dangerous territory, but what choice did I have?  So I began methodically opening all the brown shoeboxes, discovering that there were no shoes to be had, but only the mechanical instruments of female pleasure.

But then I came across it – the one box that was heavier than the others.  In it was not a pair of men’s shoes, but rather four or five books – all related to sex.  Among them, Erica Garza’s Getting Off.  There wasn’t much time.  I had to pack and be ready to go to the airport in a matter of minutes.  I grabbed the small volume and resolved that I’d just have to wear my brown belt and brown shoes to the wedding.

The flight was five hours, coast-to-coast.  Lo was exhausted because we flew the redeye after a long day at work.  She fell asleep on my shoulder as I used the time to read the book cover-to-cover.  There were certain pages marked with dog-ears and certain sentences underlined.  Almost all of them had to do with becoming inured to “conventional” porn and seeking every more degrading and debased images and scenarios.  One passage read:

 

My preferences were changing all the time.  I loved ‘old and young’ clips.  I’d also taken a liking to watching drunken girls get walked around on leashes or fucked by groups of men. . . .  I’d discovered the category of ‘bukkake’ and felt simultaneously disgusted and excited every time I watched multiple men come all over a girl’s face. . . .

 

 

I wondered about Lo and her late-night phone usage.  What depraved, debauched, dissolute, degenerate, dangerous and deviant electronic alleyways had my dear Lo followed that she should be so interested in these passages?  I was well aware of her penchant for multiple penises, how pee piqued her curiosity, her prurient interest in punishment, her salacious soliloquies on slut faming (the opposite of “slut shaming”), not to mention her downright dirty devotion to diddling while dreaming of bestial bullocks.  But had her fantasies, obsessions, and external stimuli ventured beyond these already extreme bounds?  I was in the dark.  I looked over at my delectable sleeping nymph by my side and pondered the extent of her perversity.  I recalled how years ago on a similar redeye transpacific flight she had utilized a highlighting marker as a dildo and got herself off in the crowded cabin as most of the passengers slept.  I would be fooling myself if I didn’t admit that these indiscretions were at least part of why I loved her so.

We suddenly hit some turbulence on our descent and Lo awoke from her slumber suddenly.  She saw me reading her book and asked, “What’s that?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

She sat up.  Recognizing the book, she asked, “Where’d you find that?”
“I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t with my black shoes.”

Slowly an expression of cognition appeared on her face.  “Oh,” she said, conveying everything.

I flipped through the pages showing her each and every passage that she underlined.

“That’s private!” she said as she pulled the book from my hands.

“Is that so?”

We landed and Lola tucked the book into her bag as we deplaned.

We walked through the busy terminal and I said, “It was quite a read.  Did you like it?”

“Some parts,” she said.  “What did you like about it?” she asked.

“I liked that it reminded me of you.  Why didn’t you tell me you were reading it?”

“Because, you don’t need that book or any book like it,” she said, obviously referencing the other illicit tomes in the shoebox.  “You have me,” she said, putting her thumb to her chest, “and I’m all the sex-addicted, porn-watching, nympho you can handle.”

“That’s true,” I said as I dodged people rushing for their departing flights.  “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” she asked, talking past all the commuters.

“What porn have you been using to get off lately?”

“Define lately?”

We were outside in the sunshine and we found the taxi stand.  We hopped in and told the driver our destination.  In the backseat we continued our conversation.

“Look,” I said, pulling the book out of her bag and opening to the passage quoted above, “why is this underlined?  Have you been seeking out something. . .”

“You know, already.  I like bukkake, dirty old men like you fucking young beautiful women like me, facials, BDSM, female humiliation porn.”

I looked up and saw the taxi driver look at me and then at Lo through the rearview mirror.

“And?” I asked.

“And what?”

“Bestiality?” I whispered under my breath.

“Yeah, so what?  You already knew that.”

“What else?”

“You know it all already.”

“Do I?”

“Well, I also like seeing big, hung men fucking fat women or big fat men fucking sexy thin women.  I like cumming to gangbangs, machines fucking women incessantly, and also sensual massages.”

“So, basically everything you’ve ever done?”

“You could say that.”

We got to our destination and I paid the taxi driver in cash, giving him a generous tip on top of the juicy conversation he got to listen to on the way.

“You enjoyed that,” I said.

“Enjoyed what?” she asked coyly.

“You know what.  Saying all those filthy things in front of complete strangers.”

“Did I embarrass you?”

“No, but you are a loose cannon.”

“I’m loose alright.  And that reminds me, I also love to watch women with large labia and saggy tits.”

“I bet you do,” I said.  “I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t we go inside and fuck to my favorite porn.”

Her tongue licked her sparkling white teeth in anticipation and she asked, “What would that be?”

“I bet you could think of a few possibilities, but I’m not going to ask you to suggest anything and I’ll just come out with it.”

“I hope so,” she said, grabbing my crotch.

“My favorite porn is fucking you from behind as we both are looking at ourselves in a full-length mirror.”

“Mine too,” she said as we got in the hotel room.

Once we were in the room, we immediately stripped and I bent her over the dresser as we both looked into each other’s eyes reflected in the mirror above it.  I pulled out my throbbing rod, what she once called a “Truth Stick,” and slid deep inside her as she moaned with pleasure.  Once I had pinned her hips between my crotch and the corner of the dresser, I put her to the test.

“What else?”

“What else what?” she asked.

“What are the kinds of porn you didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, Daddy, please.”

I pulled back as her cunt squeezed my cock right out of her and she squirted on my bare feet.  I thrusted forward again, mounting her.

“Tell me.”

“Daddy,” she pleaded.

“If you want this, then you’ll speak,” I threatened, temporarily removing my pleasure pole from her wet snatch.

“NO!” she said.

I was confused at first.  No, I’m not telling or. . . .

“No, don’t pull out.  Deep.  Deep.  Please,” she continued.  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“What gets you off?”

She looked up at the mirror and into my eyes that were watching the expression on her face.  She couldn’t tell me while our eyes were locked.  She dropped her head and her thick mane of hair covered it as her tits flopped forward and back with each thrust of my cock.

“OK,” she said in a tone of defeat.  “I like seeing my guy fans send pics of themselves to me wearing sexy women’s panties.  I like to see them hard-up for me in those sheer lace panties.  I like to see them cum in them.  I like them to cum to me, to my pics, to your dirty stories of me.”

Saying this, she came.

“What else?”  I knew she wasn’t done.  Not by a longshot.

“I like seeing women diddle themselves to me.”

“I knew that.”

“I like to see pregnant women get fucked hard.  I like to see women with giant bulging breasts and huge round nipples lactating.  I like to see lesbians sucking those huge tits, sucking the milk out of them.  I like to see women being milked like cows.”

She came a second time.

“Keep going,” I commanded.

“There’s not a deep, dark, dank corner of the internet I haven’t explored.  I’ve searched it all.  You name it: sex with aliens; gay men masturbating to my pics; couples having sex while watching me; teacher/student sex.”

I wanted her to continue, but at this point all her limbs went limp and she collapsed in the puddle she had made on the carpeted floor.  The orgasm was still causing convulsions and tremors through her flesh.

I let her lay there on the ground like a limp, wet pile of towels as I sat on the bed, my cock in my hands.  I watched her as she gradually regained consciousness.  She crawled across the floor to the space between my knees.  She looked up at me.  Her lips quivered as she tried to speak.

“That,” she said in a raspy whisper, “was fucking a-mazing.”

Sherry Rain

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I looked down and I saw Lola’s finger gently stroking Stoya’s pussy.  She slid her wet finger up and down the soft labia and then gently inserted one, then two fingers deep inside.  “You like this, Daddy?  You want to fuck her pussy?” she asked.  I did, but for the moment I was enjoying the view as I held my cock in my hands.

Now, allow me to tell you how we arrived at that supremely sexy moment.

It was late August.  Lo and I packed up our big cooler full of beers, G&T, and various snack items: salsa, hummus, cheeses.  We had a picnic basket full of chips, pita bread, pretzels, and basically everything you could want as an appetizer, but no meal.

We got on the road early.  We knew that the parking spots at the beach would fill up quick since the weather forecast for that Saturday was so perfect and we knew that there wouldn’t be many more opportunities to get to the ocean this summer.

All the way out there, Lo was in high spirits.  In summer she loves three things: heat, beach, and picnic baskets.  Well, and sex.  Don’t forget the sex.  I just like seeing her in her bikini (and out of her bikini).

We got there just in time to get one of the few remaining spots in the parking lot and I carried the heavy stuff while Lo rolled the cooler.  We set up the chairs and umbrella, spread out the beach blanket, and I pulled out a book and sat in the chair surveying the area while Lo lay spread eagle on the blanket.

“On the B.P.?” Lo asked me.  That’s our abbreviation for either “Beach Patrol,” or, more accurately, “Butt Patrol.”

There were a few couples around us, but we were in the mostly vacant far end of the beach, away from the crowds and screaming children.

The hours spent soaking up the sun sped by as Lo and I sipped our cold drinks and nibbled on the provisions.  I got a good chunk of reading done, swam a few times when I got too hot to bake any longer, and enjoyed seeing Lo apply and reapply her sunscreen.

When the sun was low on the horizon, Lo and I packed up our temporary home in the sand, put it all in the trunk and then headed off to one of our favorite restaurants, right on the water.

We walked up to the rooftop bar and, though it was crowded, we managed to snag the last high-top table for two overlooking the blue water below and the sunset in the distance.  It was perfect.  We were famished and already feeling the effects of day-drinking while sunbathing.

We ate our meal as the band played “Margaritaville” and other classic summer songs.  Lo’s feet kept rubbing up on my legs.  I could tell what she was hungry for now and I was eager to get her home to feed it to her.

We paid the bill and just as we stood to leave, we heard someone from the next table say, “Oh, don’t go yet!”  Was that directed at us?  I turned around and saw two women sitting at one of the other high-top tables.  Rather than sit across from one another, as Lo and I had been sitting in order to see each other, they both sat on one side of the small table and they were looking at us.  My back was to them the whole time, but had Lo seen them?  I don’t know.

“What?” I asked, politely, but a bit defensively.

“Don’t go yet,” one of them repeated.  Apparently they enjoyed looking at us.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Never mind her,” said the other woman in a deeper voice, “we’ve been here all day and now she’s drunk.”

“I am not!” the first protested.

“Whatever,” said the second.

We were in no hurry, we had been together all day, and something about these two women appealed to us (or appealed to our vanity), so we took a seat on the other side of the table.  We began with introductions.  The taller, deeper voiced woman was Sherry and the smaller, sandy-haired woman’s name was Rain.  They were a couple.  They had been together for about a year and they admitted to watching the two of us.

We ordered another round of drinks, even though Lo and I had already settled up for our dinner.

“You have amazing tits,” said Rain.  She was either less reserved than Sherry, or much more drunk.  I couldn’t tell since I knew them not at all.

Lo almost blushed, but not quite.  She was still in her bikini top and shorts.

“She has a great ass too,” I chimed in.

“I bet,” said Rain, liking her lips.  The gesture reminded me of Lo’s trademark move and when I looked over at Lo, it was like a mirror reflection of Rain.  They clearly had chemistry.  I looked at Sherry whose poker face was inscrutable.  Did she enjoy the flirting, as I did, or resent it?  Was this just another night out for this interesting couple, or was Rain playing a dangerous game?

No matter, it wasn’t my relationship at stake.

We continued drinking and finding out more about the two of them.  Rain was a yoga instructor.  Sherry worked in finance.  An odd couple, for sure.

The band continued to play and at some point after we had had another round or two, they played Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds.”

“I love this song!” Rain informed us as she jumped off her barstool and grabbed Lo’s hand saying, “Dance with me,” as she almost dragged her onto the dancefloor.  The two of them swayed back and forth and Rain put her hands on Lo’s hips as Lo put her arms around Rain’s waist.  I could see their lips moving, but not hear what they said. I realized that I wasn’t the only one watching them.  Not only were the other folks in the bar glued to these two long-haired, sexy beach babes dancing, but Sherry was also eyeing them closely.  I decided to use the opportunity of our being mutually abandoned to try to understand what was going on for her.

“She always this friendly?” I asked.

A tense smile hid her frustration.  “Rain?  She’s a very free spirit,” she said.  It was meant to sound like a compliment, but it came across as a complaint.

“Same with Lo,” I said, genuinely, “that’s why I love her so.”

She smiled again and I decided to lighten the mood a bit.  “You have great teeth.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised, clearly not used to being complimented, “thanks.”

One little observation goes a long way.  After that, she really opened up to me, telling me more about her and Rain.

The band played another song and Lo and Rain kept dancing.  I saw Rain move her hand to Lo’s butt, over her denim shorts.  Their bodies moved closer together, their steps smaller.

Sherry told me that this was her first relationship with a woman.  She was newly divorced.  She had two kids – teenagers.  They were very conflicted about everything.  I could see that either their emotions reflected her own or she was projecting.  She and Rain had only been together about a year and a half.  Rain had never been with a man, but was fascinated by men. . . and afraid of them.

Sherry was just as intoxicated as Rain, I realized, only she hid it better.  She hid, or tried to hide, a lot of things.  She went on to tell me that she’s often caught Rain masturbating to porn of guys jackin’ it and cumming.  “She’s fascinated by guys ejaculating,” she said as if it was the most bizarre thing for a lesbian to be curious about.  “She watches it again and again.”

Lo and Rain came back from the dance floor.

“At least someone dances with me,” Lo said, jibing me for my reluctance to set foot on any dance floor.

“At least someone talks to me,” I said, looking at Sherry.

“Oh yeah,” asked Rain, “what were you two talking about?”

“If I tell you,” I said, “you’ll tell me how nice Lo’s ass is.”

“Deal!” she said.

I looked at Sherry and saw real fear in her eyes.  Of course I wasn’t going to publicize her intimate revelation.  “We were just talking about Shelly’s kids and how quickly they grow up.”

“I know!  Right?” said Rain, “When I met them, I was taller than both of them.  But now they’re both this tall,” she said, putting her hand above her head by a foot.

Sherry looked relieved.

We talked some more, got some appetizers and more beer.  Lo and I opened up about our special relationship.  When Rain heard that I’m not allowed to have the same freedoms as Lo, she suddenly became more interested in me.  It was as if being off limits was a dare for her, a challenge, a goal.  She was now openly flirting with both Lo and me.

I completely lost track of time, but I knew we had a long drive home.  We got the check, exchanged numbers, and said that we all need to come back here again together before the summer was over.

We walked downstairs and out onto the sidewalk.  Their destination was the opposite direction from ours.  Lo gave a hug to Sherry as I went in to give a goodbye hug to Rain, but to my great astonishment, rather than a hug, Rain’s lips came in right for mine.  This was no little, polite peck goodnight, but an open-mouthed kiss, full of lips-on-lips and tongue exploration.  She hugged me close and squeezed and the thought occurred to me that she was squeezing me as she wanted to be squeezed.

When our embrace ended, I furtively looked over to Lo to see just how much trouble I was in now.  But Lo was busy talking with Sherry.  Had either of them seen what just went down?  Then Lo came over to Rain to give her a very proper and polite hug goodbye while I hugged Sherry.  There were no hard feelings, or at least none that I could detect.

Lo and I began walking along the dimly lit sidewalk next to the dark beach.  In our spirited conversation with the women, apparently Lo forgot the most important thing to do before departing a bar.

“Daddy,” she said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“What?”

“I have to pee.  So bad.”

“Well, let’s go back.  You can. . .”

She cut me off.  “No,” she said, “why should we go all the way back when we have all the beach to ourselves?”

“What?” I asked, astonished as I saw Lo walk onto the sandy beach, pull down and remove her shorts but leaving on her bikini bottoms as she stuck out her bum like she was grinding into the invisible groin of someone in a dance club.

“Are you peeing?” I asked in disbelief.

“Come here and I’ll show you,” she said, grabbing my wrist, pulling my hand between her legs so I could feel the drips as they seeped through her bottoms.

“Lo,” I gasped, “you’re bad!”

“You love it,” she said.  “You know you do.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“OK,” she said, “let’s go.”

She grabbed me so we walked arm-in-arm and she sashayed down the sidewalk.

“Feel better, dear?”

“Much,” she said.  “Feel hard, dear?” she asked as she reached over to feel my cock under my bathing suit.  “Oh yeah,” she said, answering her own question, “you feel hard alright.”

She wasn’t wrong.

We got to the car and I got in, but I called to Lo before she got in.  “Hey, you plan on taking off your bottoms?”

“What?”

“Your bottoms.  Do you plan on taking them off?”

“Here?  On the street?”

“Yes here, on the street.  You certainly don’t plan on sitting on my car seat like that do you?”

“Like what, Daddy?” she asked innocently.

“Drenched in pee.”

“Drenched in pee?!  What are you talking about?”

“Your little trinkle on the beach.”

“What?”

“You honestly don’t remember?”

“No.  Is that why I’m all wet?  I just thought I was really horny.  I mean, I am really horny, but is that why I’m wet?”

“Yes.  So strip.”

“This sounds like a fun ride,” she said as she dropped her bikini bottoms onto the sidewalk, threw them in the trunk, and got in the car.

I started up the engine and she reached over to grab my cock.  “Do you want me to straddle you, Daddy?” she asked.

“No, Lo, I’m driving home.”

“Can I blow you?”

“No.”

“Hand job?”

“No.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do for this long ride home?” she asked as she put her bare feet up on the dashboard, spreading them to make a ‘V’ of her legs.  “Just look at what you’ve got here,” she said as she slapped her cleanly shaved pussy.

She put the seat all the way back and reclined it as far as it would go, keeping her feet up on the dash as she began massaging her pussy.  But within mere moments she was sound asleep next to me.

We got home and I roused her.  It took a great deal of effort, but I finally got her out of the car and up the stairs of our apartment building, all butt naked.

Once in our apartment she crawled into bed.  Now she was waking up.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” she said, spreading her legs.

“Lo, you’re beyond the ability to consent.”

“No I’m not, Daddy,” she protested.  “Don’t you want me?”

“I sure do, but I’m not having you,” I replied.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to take things into my own hands,” she said, pulling out her dildo from under the bed and swiftly inserting it between her legs.

“If you’re going to do that,” I countered, “then I’m going to have some fun too.  You’re not the only one with toys anymore.”

I rummaged through the closet and found my Stoya Fleshlight.

“No, Daddy!  You wouldn’t dare!” she cried, still masturbating.  “You wouldn’t have her when you could have me, would you?”

“Lo, I’m not having you.”

She grabbed Stoya from my hands and began touching her pussy lips.

“You can lubricate her for me, if you want,” I said.

She put out her hand and took some lube from the bottle as I squeezed it into her palm.

She stroked the pussy gently as I held my love organ in my hands.

“You like fingering her?” I asked.

No response.

“Are you thinking of Rain right now?”

“How’d you know?” she asked.

I was standing next to the bed as I watched all of this happening.  Then Lo slid so that her legs were dangling off the side of the bed.  With one hand she kept the dildo rhythmically fucking her pussy and with the other hand she slid Stoya’s pussy over my rock-hard cock.

“You like that, Daddy?”

Now I didn’t answer.

She went back and forth with the Fleshlight, fucking my cock with it as she fucked herself with her dildo.

“That’s it, Daddy, fuck her.  Fuck her like you’d fuck me,” she said until she squirted all over the wood floor next to the bed.  At the sight of her ejaculation, I grabbed Stoya with both hands and fucked Stoya hard and fast.  Lo reached down, underneath and held my balls.  She likes to feel them contract when I ejaculate.  I came and came a lot inside Stoya.

After we cleaned everything up, Lo lay in my arms.  She fell right to sleep.  I held her and thought of the sound of the waves gently rolling over the silent sand of the beach in the moonlight.

Lo’s Lysistrata

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“No!” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“You know very well why,” she said, turning around, standing on her tiptoes and pushing out her naked bum.  “If you want this,” she added, slapping her ass for emphasis, “then you’re going to have to earn it.”

A little backstory here is in order.  We were in a fight.  Lo was upset with me.  She was more than upset with me.  She was furious with me.  I had recently hired a red-headed, buxom, bombshell of a woman to do Public Relations for my business.  The fact that she was a red-headed buxom bombshell was most certainly not the reason I had hired her.  She had an impressive résumé, impeccable credentials, and stellar recommendations.  She had found me via LinkedIn and had offered her services to me at just the time when I was thinking of expanding my business into a new market.  In short, there were very good and eminently rational reasons to hire this woman, none of which had to do with her looks.  But Lo couldn’t get beyond the surface appearance.

“A ruby red Jessica Rabbit?!  Really?  You just had to have a complete set, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Your secretary is a blonde bimbo.”

“She’s not a bimbo.”

“Your PR person is a ginger.  And I’m brunette.  You’ve got all your bases covered.”

“Lo, that has nothing to do with it.  Sheer coincidence.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  I’m not even attracted to redheads.”

“All three of your previous girlfriends were redheads.”

“Exactly my point.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“All my ex’s are redheads.  I broke up with them.  Clearly red is not my color.”

“Well, no sex for you until you fire her.”

“I can’t just fire her.  That would be a violation of her rights.”

“What about my rights?” she said, thumbing her chest.

“What about them?”

“Don’t I have the right to peace of mind, quiet enjoyment, not to mention, my conjugal rights?”

“Lo, I’m ready to conjugate right now,” I said, pulling out my hard cock.

“Phhhht,” she replied, “Not until Jessica Rabbit is gone.”

Just to be clear, dear reader, the new PR person was not named Jessica, but for the purposes of this story, we’ll stick with Lo’s derogatory name for her.

“I know you’re a jealous woman but. . .” I began, trying to restate my defense.

“What sort of PR professional posts pics of herself in a thong bikini on the beach on her Instagram page?”

“You looked up her Instagram page?”

“Of course I did.  And I know you did too!”

“I most certainly did not.  But can I see?”

That little attempt at humor was definitely ill timed.  Lo put on her panties and work clothes and walked out of the room in her heels as she lifted her right hand to flip me the bird as she slammed the door behind her and called out, “NO SEX FOR YOU!”

I know that Lola wasn’t thinking rationally because what sense does it make for a nymphomaniac to go on a sex strike in order to get her way?  Nonetheless, she was upset.  Very upset.  And somehow I had to make things right.  But I didn’t know how.  Would she eventually come around?  Would I have to dismiss Jessica?  Would they have a knock down drag out cat fight?  Who knows.

One thing I was confident about was that Lo wouldn’t last long with this protest of hers.  How could she?  Unless she was going to go out there and find someone else to bang, which was always a distinct possibility.

Two, then three, then four days (and nights!) went by and she stuck to her guns.  I wasn’t even allowed to sleep in the same bed with her, but I was subjected to her moans and groans of self-pleasure.  A tantalizing torture.

After the fifth day of this cruel and very unusual punishment, I could take no more.  I had come up with a strategy for winning the war.  I put things into place and two days later, Monday afternoon, my secret weapon arrived by mail in a non-descript cardboard box, about the size of a shoebox.  It had my name on it and I purposefully left it out on the dining room table for Lo to ponder like Pandora’s box.

Like clockwork, when Lo got home and saw it she asked, “What’s that?”

“Oh, just something for me that I ordered on-line,” I replied nonchalantly.

“What is it?” she asked again, picking up the box and shaking it.

“Don’t shake it!” I warned.

“Is it fragile?  Is it for me?”

“It’s really none of your concern,” I said, knowing how much that would piss her off.

“What the fuck is it?!  You’d better tell me right now.”

“Calm down,” I said.  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“I’ll find out this instant!” she said, stomping her little foot.

“It’s just. . . just something to help me out.”

“Help you out?  How?  Is it a lifetime supply of Viagra?”

“Darling, I certainly don’t need any E.D. medicines.”

“That’s what you think.”

“But you are on the right track.”

“That’s it, I’m opening it up,” she said, making for the kitchen to get scissors.

She returned and violated the sacred law of the postal service – opening another’s mail.  And when she saw what was inside, she flipped out!  All going to plan.

“Stoya the Destroya Signature Fleshlight!”

“Yes,” I said calmly, talking the box from her hands.  “If you’re going on a sex-strike, then I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands,” I said.

“A surrogate pussy?!  You throw that thing out right now!  I will not stand for it!”

“Then get on your back and spread your legs for me.”

“No.”

“OK then,” I said, turning to leave with my pussy in hand.

“Where are you going?”

“To get laid.”

“The hell you are!”

I walked into the bedroom, removed my clothes, took Stoya’s pussy out of the box, read the extensive instructions and warnings, and began to follow the directions.  I was pleased to see that it came with its own small bottle of lube.

Lo walked in.  (I hadn’t locked the door.)

“You’re really going to fuck that thing?” she asked.

“Care to watch?”  (I knew that she wouldn’t or couldn’t resist.)

She sat on the side of the bed as I stroked lube all over my hard cock.  I then put lube on my fingers and began fingering Stoya.

“What are you doing?” she asked, perplexed.

“The instructions clearly say to lubricate the inside before use.”

“Wouldn’t you rather something that’s naturally wet?” she asked as she removed her panties.  She still had on her heels from work and her black dress.  She spread her legs on the bed and pulled at her pussy lips.

“Of course I would,” I said, “but Stoya is primed and ready for me.”  (I was purposefully being an asshole.)

“I’ve been primed and ready.  Wouldn’t you rather pump this,” she asked as she slipped in a couple of fingers.

“Are you really offering?”

“No.  You can’t have it.  I’m mad at you.”

“OK then,” I said as I penetrated Stoya’s soft and supple pussy.  I had two hands on the casing of the Fleshlight and I was sliding it on and off my cock as Lo fingered her own puss with one hand and then really upped the ante by fingering her ass and saying, “Is Stoya tight?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“As tight as my little ass?”

“I doubt it.”

“Do you want my ass?” she asked, fingering both her holes in front of me as I looked on hungrily.

I continued fucking Stoya, imagining I was fucking Lola.  “You know, there’s a Stoya anal Fleshlight as well,” I said.

“Then fuck that, because you can say goodbye to these!” she retorted as she turned around on the bed so she was lying on her tum, her head propped up by her hands.  I could still see her ass as her dress was flapped up over her waist.  I knew that something Lo loves is seeing guys masturbate.  She frequently requested that I jack it for her and she can never get enough since she can’t both watch me and have me.  That’s why she wants two men at the same time.

I did as she commanded and slid the pussy down and back on my rod.  I could see her grow visibly jealous of the device.

“What?” I said at her displeasure, “You have your Hitachi, your double-ended-dildo, your Remus, your. . .”

“Shut up and cum already,” she said.

“And you’re jealous of me because once, ONCE, in however many years I get a sex toy for myself?!”

“What about your sheath?  Your penis extender?”

“That was for you, not me.”

“Enough dialogue.  Fuck that pussy and cum if you’re gonna cum.”

“If you really want me to cum,” I said, “then hold it for me.”

“You want me to hold Stoya’s pussy so you can fuck her instead of me?”
“Well, are you willing to give me your pussy?”

She reached out and held onto the thick trunk of the sleeve.  I fucked more vigorously.  Her mouth opened.  At the crucial moment, I pulled out and, without warning, ejaculated the money shot all over her delighted face.  She was dripping in my cum when she said, “That. Was. Amazing.”

[p.s. – This installment of mysexlifewithlola was not sponsored by Stoya or Fleshlight, nor are we affiliated with them. (Though we’d love to be!  Hint hint.)

 

Bigger, Harder, Longer

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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.”

 

Pound

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6

Pound

 

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

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

“Yeah, well, hug me, damn it.”

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

“Stop,” she says.

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

“Is it a FUPA?”

“A what?”

“Fat Upper Pussy Area?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“No, I don’t want to call it that!”

“You brought it up.”

“Cause you’re kneading me like dough.”

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

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

“Why?”

“I put on a pound or two.”

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

“You find my fat incredibly sexy.”

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

She reaches down to feel me between my legs.

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

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

“Then why didn’t you fuck me?”

“Because you were asleep.”

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

“I did not do that to you all night.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I was asleep.”

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

“You may be right,” I humbly admit.

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

“Yeah,” I say.

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

“Now?”

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

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

“You look good.”

“Fuck me,” she commands.

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

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

“Much.”

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

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

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

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

“Lo, I have to. . .”

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

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

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

“Oh, I did.”

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

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

“Why?”

“Cause I was mad at you.”

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

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

“Mine and everyone else’s.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m about to fuck you,” I say.

“But. . .”

“But what?”

“But I just came.”

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

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

“Yeah.  Why?”

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

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

“Well, let me in.”

“Push and push hard,” she says.

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

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

“No, darling.  That was all for you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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