Lola on All Fours

[The mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” continues from “Southern Comfort” with this abridged account.]

CRASH!!!  Clankity, clank clank.

We all turned around and saw Lola standing, one hand to her mouth, surprise on her face, her bare feet standing in a puddle of booze and a silver shaker spinning on the ground.  Even the dogs froze in their frisky flirtations with Suzanne.

“Whoops!” said Lo.  “I’ll clean it up.  I’m so sorry.  I feel like such a fool!”

I went over to her and followed her into the kitchen where she grabbed some rubber gloves and cleaning stuff.  I was grateful for the excuse to get out of the crosshairs of Collin and Suzanne.

Lo returned to the living room and went over by the entranceway where she spilled, and she got on all fours to clean up in her little black nighty that she had been wearing.

. . .

Everyone was already watching as Lo cleaned up.  Now they were gawking. . . .

Lola’s Satin Nighty

[For the full story, email us.]

Asses Up

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Dutiful Niece.”  We apologize for any delay and concern that the delay may have caused. Working on being more consistent content creators.]

“I don’t think this is a story I can tell,” I said to Lo as we were driving back home from the bizarre weekend in the mountains with Lily, Jim, Lily’s Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne.

“It sure did get weird fast,” she remarked, looking with a vacant stare out the window as the scenery streaked by.

“The whole thing was weird,” I remarked.

“That’s true,” she said, “but it got even more so once you got there.”

A little background may be in order here, dear reader.  Lily and Jim are our very good friends from home.  They’re married.  Lily is Lo’s age and of her same temperament.  Jim is slightly older, with a few hang-ups.  Lily’s Uncle Collin had invited the four of us up to his lake house in the mountains for a week but, due to our work schedules, only Lily and Lo could join him for the first five days.  During that time, Collin hit hard on Lo and Lo lapped it up, returning his advances with explicit flirtations.  Lily, during this whole extramarital exchange, reassured Lo that Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne “had an understanding” and that it was fine.

Because Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne have separate bedrooms and the former sleeps alone and the latter with her two dogs, the night before Jim and I were to arrive, Lo finally “slept” with Uncle Collin.  But it literally was just sleeping together because, as she found out that night, Uncle Collin, virile as he is, he is also impotent and suffers from E.D. due to an accident that injured his spine two decades ago.

The next morning, when Lo confronted Lily about this, it was revealed that Lily was a coconspirator with Uncle Collin to help him gave the female companionship he so long to enjoy with Lo.  But, not only that, it turned out that Lo was only the latest in a long string of sexy young friends whom Lily had enticed to spend “quality time” with Uncle Collin.

Saturday morning, Jim and I were headed straight for the eye of this swirling sordid affair.

Just to add even more spice to the already simmering pot, he and I were hard-up from a long five days apart from our respective hotwives and I had just come off of a terrible week, losing my big case that Friday.

I was so wrapped up in my own need to reconnect with Lo and my own dark and stormy cloud from the past week, that I hadn’t even put thought to how horny Lo would be, or Lily for that matter.  The last I had heard, Lo, Lily, and Collin had gone to a resort on Thursday and so I had no idea that Lo wasn’t getting her fill of good fucks by Uncle Collin there.  But I had heard from my reliable informant about Lily’s big reveal that she adheres to the ‘A.O.L.’  (Anal Only Lifestyle.)  A fascinating little tidbit of knowledge that had piqued my curiosity.

After we stopped for coffee and a quick breakfast sandwich at a highway rest stop, we were on the road for a good couple of hours.  Once we were a good distance outside the city, as the sun was burning off the morning mist, we saw some horses over in the field on the side of the road.

“You remember last time we all saw Uncle Collin?” asked Jim, slightly bemused by the horses.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Remember what we did?”

“You mean the candle lit therapy session?”

“No,” he said, snapping out of it.  “I mean the breeding farm he took us to.”

“Oh yeah, for his ‘prized stallion,’” I said, a little snarky.

“Yeah,” said Jim.  “Lo was really fascinated by that,” he remarked.  Clearly the experience had stuck with him.

“She’s a size queen,” I blurted out as a half joke, but immediately regretted it when I recalled Jim’s own diminutive size.

He turned to look at me with a quizzical expression.  “Then why does she like me?” he asked, genuinely.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she both pities him and also loves to tease, so I said simply, “She thinks you’re cute.”

He let it drop and resumed his original line of questioning.  “So being a ‘size queen’ extends to other species?” he asked, getting to the point.

“To be honest, I think she’s just mesmerized by cock.  All cock.  She enjoys the power she exerts over it.  The power to make it hard, to make it cum, to put someone under her power of seduction.  It’s a power trip to her.  And part of that power trip is also the power that she feels by knowing she can take something so incredibly large.  Call it ‘the power of the puss’ if you want,” I said, laughing to myself about the turn of phrase.

All Cocks

“Has she ever. . .” began Jim, not able to even ask the question.

“Is this our turnoff?” I asked, evading his question.

He looked at his phone to check the map and he said, “The girls are asking if we will be eating breakfast with them.”

“When will we get there?”

“E.T.A. is about 11:00,” he said.

“Let’s plan on lunch.”

“Turn here,” he said.

As I got in the right lane, I saw the sign that read, “EXIT ONLY.”  It made me think of a woman I once knew who was adamantly anti-anal sex and remarked to me, “That is an exit only orifice.”  I chuckled to myself and thought of what a dirty old man I am and how Lily’s “Anal Only Lifestyle” is not a turnoff, but a real turn-on for me.

“Did our session by candlelight help you and Lily?” I asked, venturing into a topic he hadn’t revisited with me since that fateful night.  I suspect he had “confessor’s remorse” after admitting that he didn’t know how to fully please her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you two talk about bringing a bull into the relationship or a little BDSM?”

“It’s more complicated than that.  She’s different than you think.”

“How so?”

“I mean, you know that, like you two, we’re in an open relationship.”

“Yeah.”

“But, unlike Lo she. . . .”  He trailed off.

“Jim we’ve known each other a long time.  You’ve been with Lo.  Lily has been forthright and open with us.  There’s nothing you should feel inhibited from telling me.  I hate to pull this card, but I’m older.  Maybe I have some sage advice.”

“Lily has a Catholic girl hang-up about sex,” he finally blurted out.

“What?!  Other than Lo, she’s one of the most openminded people I know.”

“It’s true.  She’s never had sex.  We’ve never had sex, properly.”

“OK, now I know you’re putting me on.”

“I wish it was a joke, but it’s not.  She grew up being told that sex is wrong, sex is bad, and girls who engage in sex are doomed to Hell.”

“But they only say that about fornication – sex outside of the marriage.”

“Well, that’s how she got started before marriage and, I guess, she still likes it that way.”

“How do you feel about that?” I ventured to ask, fully aware that I was treading over delicate, as if hiking along a cliff that could fall through at any moment.

It was as if a switch went off in his mind.  This normally mild-mannered, easy-going guy became enraged.  “I fucking hate it!” he blurted out.  “It’s so fucking dumb.  We’ve been married almost a year now and every fucking time I want to fuck her, she flips over on her belly and sticks her ass in the air, spreads her ass cheeks and says, ‘I’m ready for you now.’  What the fuck?!  Why can’t we just have real, loving intercourse?”  He punched the glove compartment.

“Hey, take it easy,” I said, concerned about the damage he was doing to my car and that he’d set off the airbag.

“Sorry, but this has been frustrating me since. . . well, since forever.”

“Have you talked with her about it?”

“Of course I have.”

I felt stupid even asking him, since he was so abrupt with his reply.

“I’m sorry, H, but. . .”

“I understand, Jim.  You and I, we’re both frustrated.  We haven’t seen Lo or Lily in five days and. . .”

“Yeah, how are you doing with that?” he interrupted to ask.

“With what?”

“With her being around Uncle Collin?”

“Whatever,” I said, dismissively and disingenuously since that thought had been consuming me for days now.

“I forgot, you don’t get jealous about her fucking other guys,” he said, as if bating me.

“As long as she’s honest about it,” I said, continuing to dissemble.

Soon we were pulling down a long dirt road leading to the cottage.

“I’ll text Lily that we’ll be there in a minute.”

“OK,” I said, feeling tense with no appetite other than for Lo.

We pulled up to the circular driveway in front of the picturesque villa.  I parked the car and Jim, who had been there before, let me around back to the deck where the girls and Collin and Suzanne, as well as the two dogs, were relaxing.

Lo and Lily were both naked as they day they were born.  They got up, their tits swinging and jiggling, their asses looking sweetly tanned, their unabashed display of their bodies admirable.  I saw how Collin watched Lo and his niece greet us as we appeared on the deck.  His eyes carefully watched ever move, every gesture, every subtle sign, deciphering its meaning and adducing the nature of the relationship.  He was a limp snake in the grass.  But, mind you, at that point, I still was in the dark as to what had transpired between him and Lo.

I wanted nothing more at that moment than to sweep Lo off of her bare feet and bring her to the bedroom (or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or really anywhere, even right there!) and discover all her stories while plumbing her depths with my philosophically penetrating apparatus.

Dutiful Niece

Lo’s Tits Out

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Pink Grapefruit“]

Saturday morning and Lola woke up in the large bed, but Collin was gone.  She slipped into a robe she found and then surreptitiously snuck barefoot through the house to the guest bedroom where she and Lily had been staying.  Though Collin had said it was fine with Suzanne that Lo and he slept together, she didn’t want to find out through a confrontation that he was lying or mistaken.

Lola found Lily sitting in bed, reading a book.  Lily looked up, “Morning,” she said, as if nothing had transpired the previous night.

“Hi,” said Lo, a little shy after returning from sleeping with Lily’s uncle.  It was a novel situation.

“Have a good night?” asked Lily.

Lo couldn’t wait to ask a thousand questions of her and this provided the opening for it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your uncle’s horse accident?”

“What was I supposed to say, ‘A horse stepped on my uncle and now he can’t get his wee-wee up’?”

“Well, no, but you could have. . .”  Lo thought for a moment.  She sat on the bed next to Lily.  “So you knew all along?”

“Knew what?”

Lo didn’t want to come across as accusatory.  She pondered how to phrase her questions.

Lily already anticipated what she was going to ask and saved her the trouble.

“I was around six or seven when he had the accident.  I remember it vividly.  Uncle Collin was always my favorite and he was always strong and vibrant and, well, just like he is now.  It was terrible to see him in pain and struggling to get around in a wheelchair.  But he has incredible determination and inner strength.  He resolved to do everything he could to bounce back from that injury even stronger than before.  I watched him, over many years, make incremental progress until he was walking, even running again.”

“It’s amazing,” said Lo.  “I never would have known that he was once confined to a wheelchair.”

“A miracle.  But as I watched him improve physically, as I grew older, I also observed his relationship with Suzanne grow estranged.  They were married about a year when the accident happened.  Since then, she hasn’t left him, but she also hasn’t been there for him.”

“Why don’t they get divorced?”

“You see all this?” responded Lily, looking around the room, “And the other house, and everything else Collin has worked his life to achieve?  She would get half of everything.”

“Oh,” said Lo.

“They don’t dislike each other.  I think they actually are good to and for each other.  But they have worked out an arrangement.  She knows that Collin is impotent.  She knows all-too-well.  So what does she care if he’s around sexy young women?”

“You mean, this happens often?”

Lily let out a little laugh at Lo’s innocent question.  “You mean me bringing sexy friends here for Uncle Collin to seduce?  There hasn’t been one yet who was able to resist his charms.  You were just the most eager.”

Lo felt a pang of confusion and betrayal.  She had been used by both Lily and Uncle Collin.  She had been played as a dupe.  It was all a front.  And not only that, she was just one in a long line of similarly situated seeming seductresses.

If Lily noticed Lo’s crushed feelings, she didn’t let on that she saw or cared.  She just continued with her story.  “I told you that my family vacations in the south of France.  As soon as I hit puberty, I noticed how I got the attention of Uncle Collin.  He never, ever was inappropriate with me, but he liked watching me.  And pretty soon, any and every girlfriend I brought home fell madly in love with him.  He is devilishly handsome, I’ll grant him that.  But he also knows exactly what to say, what to do, and how to charm the pants off people, literally.  I mean, if he wasn’t my uncle. . . ,” Lily trailed off before adding, “Well, don’t think that I haven’t fantasized about it more than once when he was in the bedroom with one of my friends.”

“But nothing happened,” protested Lo, feeling like she had to exonerate herself.

“Of course nothing happened and nothing could happen.  He can’t get it up.  When I was a little older, he told me.  He came up to me and, in his charismatic way, he asked me to bring a friend over for his ‘company.’  He was so suave and subtle about it, that I wasn’t even clear what he was asking until I had already agreed.  But then I realized, he was asking me to pimp out my girlfriends for his pleasure.”

Now Lily had put it exactly as it felt to Lo.  That was the heart of the betrayal.

“And I’m just one of your tricks?”

“Lo,” said Lily, pleading for her sympathy, “All I did was invite you here.  Everything else – letting Collin put his hand on your knee in the truck, letting him feel your breast, letting him look up your skirt in the orchard, tanning naked in front of him, jerking that guy off for Collin’s pleasure, and going to bed with him – all of that was you and your choice.”

Lo reflected for a moment, stunned.  “But,” she thought, “I might not have done all those things if you weren’t right there with me getting naked in front of your uncle.”  She didn’t say that, because she believed in personal responsibility and she wasn’t going to blame Lily for her own behavior.

“But you knew.  You knew all along.  You knew what he wanted.  Even when you called to invite me here, you knew.  You were scheming.  You were a coconspirator,” Lo blurted out, giving vent to the emotions bubbling up in her.

“Yes, I knew all along.  I even told Uncle Collin that he would like you more than any of the others.  That he better watch out that he doesn’t fall in love.  He laughed.  But he was curious.  I’m sure that’s why he showed up at the mountain resort unexpectedly.  He just couldn’t wait to meet you and see you with his own eyes.”

“You mean, even before he met me, you were pushing me on him?”  Lo felt violated.

“Lo,” said Lily, “you’re in a half-open a relationship, you’re a proud hotwife, you take delight in flirting with and seducing married men, and you love showing off your body.  In my mind, you two were made for each other.  Tell the truth.  After you met Collin, were you not eager to see him again?  You sounded pretty thrilled to be invited here, and not just to get the fresh country air.”

Lo knew she was right, but something was not sitting well with her.

“What about Suzanne?” asked Lo.  “She doesn’t get jealous?”

“I told you,” she said, “they have an arrangement.”

Lo knew that Suzanne was not interested in women.  She definitely got that sense.  But what was this ‘arrangement’?

She asked, “You keep saying that, but what’s that mean?”

Lily took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.  “Lo, the world is weird all over and stranger the deeper you delve.”

If Lo had a Netflix show

Pink Grapefruit

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Sun Shower“]

It was Friday.  Though I couldn’t wait to be reunited with my little nymphet, Jim and I wouldn’t be getting on the road until early the next morning.  Soon Lola, Lily, and Collin were in the Jeep on their way back to the cottage.  They got back just in time for dinner with Suzanne.  After dinner and some drinks, Lily said to Lo, “I’m feeling tired.  I’m going to bed, but why don’t you join Collin on the deck?”

Suzanne, apparently, had already gone to bed.  Always the accommodating guest, Lola took her friend’s suggestion and found Collin sipping his whiskey as he sat in a double-wide swing outside, overlooking the lake.

Lo joined him on the swing and they made some small talk before he invited her to join him in the bedroom.

“What about Suzanne?” asked Lo.

“We sleep in separate bedrooms,” said Collin.  “She sleeps with Shadow and Bandit,” he said, referring to the dogs.  “It’s been this way for a while.”

Lo followed him through the quiet house to the master bedroom.  It was enormous.  The square footage of that room alone was probably bigger than our living room and kitchen together.  It had a master bath attached in an open plan layout.  Lo said she’d like to wash up before bed.  She dropped her denim shorts, removed her cutoff top and turned on the shower.  She stepped in as Collin watched her.  There was no door on the slate tiled shower.  The water just poured down from a waterfall fountain near the high ceiling.  Lo washed up and then dried off with one of the plush terrycloth towels.

She walked over to the bed where Collin was lying in just his flannel pajama bottoms.  She must have missed the brief moment when he changed.  Sitting on the bed near him, she removed the towel and passed him a bottle of lotion she had found by the sink.

“Moisturize me,” she said.

She was lying on her tum and he began with her shoulders.  His large, strong hands gently rubbed the scented cream into her skin.  She let out a moan.  “That feels soooo good.”

Collin continued down her back and pushed up from her hips toward her shoulders in long, slow strokes.

Finally he worked his way around her bum, grabbing with his fingers and thumbs and spreading her ass cheeks apart so he could get a good look at her special spot in a slight variation from his performance the day before.

“Clean as a whistle,” he remarked, taking note of one of Lo’s most remarkable features.

“I used the pink grapefruit bodywash in the shower.”

Gettin’ a Dirty Girl Clean

“Looks it,” he said.

“Does it taste like grapefruit?” she asked.

He continued his exploration of her anatomy with his palms sliding down her thighs to her calves.  He simply ignored her question.

His hands massaged around her ankles and then her feet.  His thumbs pressed into the arch of her feet and he rubbed in sensual circles, bringing her close to climax.

Pink Grapefruit

Before she had another accident, she turned over and looked at Collin.

“Why don’t you get out of those pjs?” she asked, straining to see if he was hard.

To her great surprise, he agreed and soon he was as naked as she.  But to her greater surprise, he was as flaccid as a well-cooked strand of spaghetti, though almost as long.

“Lo,” he said in a quiet tone, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

Lo’s eyes widened.

“About twenty years ago I was badly injured in a horse riding accident.”

“Oh no,” said Lo, even before hearing the details.  She gave him space to explain.

“I was riding one of my prized stallions and I thought I had trained him a lot better than I did.  He saw a shadow or a branch or something.  Maybe he thought it was a snake.  Maybe it was a snake.  I don’t know.  It was a long time ago and it happened fast.  He reared up and threw me off.”

Lo covered her mouth as she gasped.

“The fall wasn’t that bad, but then he bucked and his rear hoof went right into my back.  I had a serious injury to my thoracic spinal nerve 11, or T-11.  For a long time I was in a wheelchair, which is why this room is on the first floor and is designed to be completely wheelchair accessible.  I had a number of surgeries and eventually, after a lot of physical therapy, I was able to walk again.  But, unfortunately,” he looked down, “I never recovered to full functioning.”

Lo looked at Collin’s lengthy, beautiful cock, longingly.

“Nothing?” she asked a little tactlessly.

“Nothing.  Suzanne and I tried everything.  For years.  Surgeries, pills, pump.  Nothing could get me hard or keep me hard.”

“No orgasm, I guess,” she asked, unable to conceal a tone of disappointment from her voice.

“Not in over twenty years.”

“Desire?”

“So much desire,” he said.

“What can I do for you?” asked Lo, always eager to please.

“Lo, your visit has been a godsend.”

“So you don’t want to finger me or have me suck you off or anything?”

“I actually just enjoy talking to you.”

“Naked?”

“Well, that makes it more interesting.”

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” he asked and then understood.  “Oh, give it the ole college try?”

Lo nodded.

“See for yourself.”

Lo wasted no time.  She got between his legs with her face and finally gave free reign to her pent-up desire.  She licked, lapped, sucked, slurped, teased, touched, kissed, caressed, pressed, pulled, stroked, sloughed, and finally ceased, all to no avail.  Not that it wasn’t fun for her, but it did not bring about her hoped for result.

Spent, she lay back and stroked herself, but, without instilling a similar arousal in her host, she quickly became bored of it.

“You’re a remarkable woman,” said Collin.

His words fell on deaf ears.  Lo couldn’t help but feel let down by her mere humanity.  She had hoped to perform a miracle.  To raise Lazarus, to bring forth a baguette from a lump of dough, to at least fulfill some longed for fantasy.

In the end the two of them just sat together on the bed and they traded fabulous story for more outrageous tale.

A Brush with the Little Death

[The mini-series Mount Bliss continues from Casual Encounters]

“Oh, I’m so tired.  I’m sure I’ll sleep well tonight.  I bet a construction crew banging away with a jackhammer wouldn’t wake me tonight!  Good night.”  Those words of Lily’s, spoken just before she went to sleep, were reverberating in Lo’s ears.  Lo lay on her back, wide awake, thinking about those words.  Was Lily trying to tell her and Collin something?  “A jackhammer.”  Hmmmm.  Was she intimating that Collin could go at it with Lo in his bed?  Was that permission?  Or was she just casually saying that she was tired, unaware of her word choice?  Lo couldn’t get the thoughts out of her mind.  She considered and reconsidered.  Do I sneak out of Lily’s arms and slide my way into Collin’s bed?  Do I jill it here, in the darkness, next to Lily, across from Collin?  Whatever she thought, falling asleep wasn’t one of the options.  She was too excited at the moment.  She looked over at Collin.  Could he see anything in the darkness?  She certainly couldn’t.  Not yet.  No motion.  No silhouette.  Was Lily asleep?  Her breathing sounded as if she was.

Art by Suzie Freeman, Model, Lola Down

Lo could feel her pussy secreting little lust-drops beneath the sheets.  She was in a strange state of arousal.  The arousal stemmed from her inability to even move.  A lithe Lily, nearly nude, lying next to her.  A lumberjack of a man indistinctly there in the near distance of the darkness.  And her own body, ready, waiting to be touched.  Longing to be fucked.  She thought about her nipples and how hard they were, unplucked in the draped stillness of the unlit room.  Her neck, unkissed, her blood rushing through the veins to her head with a steady, fast pumping.  Her earlobes, desirous of a tongue that would titillate them, of teeth that would nibble at them, and of close breath that would gently blow upon them.  Her groin ached with pain in its uncaressed longing for a tongue, a finger, a cock.  Anything, even her own soft sensation upon it, would do.  But as she was, she could not even venture down there for a quick rub.  This was a state of denial to which she was unaccustomed.  Unaccustomed?  No.  Unacquainted.  She never had to do this.  Abstain, that is.  At least not in recent memory.  It had been so long since her last good pounding.  Masturbation was fine, she thought, but fucking was finer.

The images swirled in her mind of cock, of Lily, of pussy, of her own hungry cunt.  Porn, so close on her phone, but unthinkable to turn it on.  She was turned on.  Turned on to herself.  She clenched her pussy tightly and released, trying, unsuccessfully, to induce a hands-free orgasm.  She’d heard of it done, but had never tried it.  Wait, that’s not true.  There was that time on the Buddhist retreat, in seated meditation, when she figured out how to make herself cum without moving.  But then she was seated in the lotus position.  Now she was reclining, with a body cuddling her.  Everything in the room seemed to scream of sex in the still, deafening silence.

She ever so carefully, so slowly, so gently removed the draped arm of Lily from over her torso and placed it with all due dexterity beside the body to which it belonged.  She surreptitiously slid her bare legs over to the edge of the bed.  She furtively felt for the carpeted floor beneath her.  She found it.  She sat up, silently.  She assessed the situation.  Lily sleeping.  Collin alone in his bed.  She snuck, slow as a sloth, from her bed to his.  She got under the covers next to him.  She gently kissed his shoulder, his bicep, he chest, his neck, his lips.  His eyes opened without the slightest surprise.  He kissed her back.  She moved her hand down between his legs and felt his enormous, hard rod eager for her caress.  She slid her palm up and down the shaft.  Long, luxurious strokes.  He kissed her more passionately.  She positioned her body over his and slid down, her wet pussy dripping down the inside of her thighs.  She felt the girth of his member stretch her lips wide as she shifted and rocked gently to accommodate all that he had to offer.  In he entered, like a large rocket docking in the mothership.  She took it tip to base, a satisfied grin on her face.  He met her descending movements with ascending thrusts.  Soon they became more forceful.  He wanted to dominate her, to own her cunt with his cock.  Using his strong arms, he rolled her over onto her tum in the bed and he got behind her.  She positioned herself like a bitch in heat, waiting to take his firm meat between her fleshy pussy lips.  He didn’t hold back.  He entered with urgency.  He entered with command.  He entered her like a boss.  She loved it.  She lapped it up.  He put his big hands on her hips and pulled her back so that now he was standing at the end of the bed, pounding her from behind.  Bam, Bam, he rammed it home with complete disregard for the smacking sound his hips made against her round ass.  Complete disregard for the fact that his young niece was sleeping in the bed next to them.  He punished her with his cock and soon he was rhythmically ramming her like the jackhammer that Lily had mentioned.  A quick whack, whack, whack, ever louder, ever faster.  Lo couldn’t keep her pleasure to herself.  She let out a moan, then a groan, then a scream.  She met his every shove of his cock with a powerful reverse shove of her ass until she was dripping and squirting for the brief intervals that he was at the threshold of her labia.  She was calling out to her god and asking for more, thanking her deities for the dick that punished her puss.  She could see out of her peripheral vision in the darkness Lily propping up her head with her arm to watch in silence.  She watched her uncle fuck her best friend.  She watched as Lola squirmed and squirted, screamed and sighed.  She watched as Collin beat the bum and swollen mons pubis of her sex-craved friend.  She watched as both of them came with ecstatic delight and collapsed upon the soaked sheets of the hotel bed next to her.  She watched with keen interest as they both panted for breath and then she said with a neutral tone of disinterested observation, “I think Lola likes you Uncle Collin.”

Actually, dear reader, none of that happened except in Lo’s racing mind as she struggled for release.  Sorry to disappoint.

But then Lola got an idea.  Yes.  It was possible.  That would do the trick.  If she could only reach to the nightstand without disturbing anyone.  She extended her right hand.  She searched around for it, groping in the darkness.  She found it!  Yes.  She pulled it back to her like Gollum grabbing the Ring that Rules Them All.  Slowly, surreptitiously, secretly, she maneuvered it under the blankets, between her legs, into her wet, wide pussy.  The shape and curvature of the handle of her hairbrush fit just so, snugly inside her where she could flex her Kegel muscles on it, giving her the sensation of a cock, deeply lodged inside her.

Good in a Pinch

Yes, yes, that was it.  That was the spot she needed to hit.  With her right hand she could gently move the brush, wiggling it side-to-side, up-and-down, deeper in, a little out.

She was perfectly primed and ready.

But wait!  Of fuck!  I hadn’t thought of this, I hadn’t planned on. . . fuuuuuuuuuuuck.  The orgasm.  The climax.  The clenching of the walls of her cunt, pushing the brush handle out the way it pushes out cock when cumming hard.  The inevitable squirting.  Fuck fuck fuck!  The gripping of the sheets with her fists.  The biting of the lip.  The convulsing of the stomach muscles.  The necessity for silence.  And then the great relief as the waves of pleasure and pain ebbed and flowed through her veins.

And then the embarrassment as Lily squeezed her tightly, kisses her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “It’s ok.”

A.O.L.

[Continued from Fast, Wet, & Slippery]

 

After the long day at the lake and the suggestive movie, when Lo and Lily went to bed that night, Lo got up the guts to ask Lily, “What did you mean when you told me that lying out in the sun naked here is no different than being naked in front of your dad?”

Lily laughed a little and said, “You know we’re French, right?”

“You mean, like French French?  I mean, born there?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I thought I mentioned it.”

“Well, you might have said in passing that your family is French, but I thought that was a few generations ago.”

“No, my dad and his brother Collin came here just before I was born, like twenty-three years ago or so.”

“But they have no accent!”

“Their parents were diplomats and they were raised half in America and half in France.  But even in France, they went to the American School.”

“Oh.”

“And your mom?”

“My mom is from D.C.  My dad met her when he was at the French Embassy here.”

“Oh.”

“So, in France we always vacation in the south and it’s pretty much all nude beaches there.  That’s all I meant by that.  Nothing kinky.”

“Oh, I see.  And so Collin was just interested in Blue is the Warmest of Color because he’s French and it’s a French movie?”

“Probably,” she snickered.  “That, and he’s a horny fuck.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He is!  Haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, he has been showing me a lot of attention.”

“A lot of attention?!  Come on, Lo!  You know that there’s something between you two.”

Lo blushed and admitted, “OK, I know he wants me, but what about your Aunt Suzanne?  I mean, she’s got to know something’s up.”

“I think that they have an understanding,” she said with a knowing, mysterious smile.

“What makes you think that?”

“I have my ways,” said Lily, delighting in the unspoken.

“Do you think that Collin is trying to encourage you and me to play?”

Lily said nothing.

“Or me and Suzanne?”

Lily again said nothing.

“Come on Lily!  You have to have some take on it.  I mean, if you know that they have an understanding, you must have some idea what Collin’s up to with that porno film he showed us.”

“Lo!  It wasn’t a porno film.  It won tons of awards!”

“It was porn and he meant for us to view it that way.”

“It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“I’m not denying that,” said Lo, who was simultaneously and unconsciously playing with her pussy beneath the covers, “but paint drying turns me on.  I want to know what Collin’s plan is?  What’s he scheming?”

Lo leaned toward Lily, who was sitting on the bed not far from Lo, and Lo said in a whisper, “Or did you suggest the movie?”

“Meeeee?” squealed Lily, playing innocent.  “I didn’t.  Why?  Do you want to seduce me?”

“Do you want me to seduce you?  To finger you the way those two girls did?”

“Oh no,” said Lily, to Lo’s great disappointment.

“No?” repeated Lo in disbelief.  She’s not used to being turned down.

“No fingering me.  No.  I’m A-O-L.”

“What?”

“Anal Only Lifestyle.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what it says.  I only do anal.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’ve never met anyone who only did anal.  I mean, I’ve met lots of people who swear never to do anal, but not the other way around.”

“Well, I’m not only French, I’m also Catholic.”

Lo laughed.  “What’s that have to do with anything?”

“A lot!  You see, the Church teaches that sex before marriage is wrong.”

“You didn’t buy that B.S., did you?”

“I did!  And before I was married, I tried to be a good girl.”

“But anal sex,” Lo began to say, putting the pieces together.

“Anal sex isn’t sex, and so, I was a good little anal slut in high school.  I never had sex – according to the Church – but I had lots of loads up my ass.  I grew to really like it.  No, to love it.  And so, even now, it’s only anal for me, even though I’m married.”

“Really?!” asked Lo in disbelief.

“I’m still, technically, a virgin.”

“How’s Jim feel about that?” asked Lo with deep curiosity.

“Oh, he’s such a romantic,” she said, almost dismissively.  “He wants so badly to take my virginity.  But I’ve held off.”

“Why?”

There was a long pause and the conversation turned serious as Lily pondered the simple question.

“I guess,” she began slowly, “I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid he might not like it or. . . maybe I won’t like it.  You know how small he is.”

Lo knew very well.

“I guess I prefer that he just keep on banging my backdoor than take a chance on coming in the front.”

Anal Anime

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lola

Fast, Wet, & Slippery

Since the story of what happened that week was leaked to me piece-by-piece through various curt emails and similarly brief phone calls, punctuated by alluring photos with suggestive texts, I’ll just tell you the story that I heard when Lo and I were finally reunited together at Collins lakeside cabin.

Fun Bum

Tuesday night Lily, Lo, and Collin returned to the farm-to-table restaurant to have the meal that they had helped harvest earlier that day.  Lo was dusty and disheveled due to all the work, but the restaurant’s dress code was quite lax.  They had what Lo described as one of the most scrumptious meals of her life.  It was just the three of them at a small, candle-lit table.  Collin regaled them with stories.

Back at the cottage, Lo and Lily went to bed early again, exhausted from all the day’s activities.  Lo repeated her solo performance of the night before, telling Lily as she rubbed one out how hot she finds Lily’s Uncle Collin.  She went through a little fantasy of spending time with him in a hotel room somewhere away from her Aunt Suzanne.

The next day was a crystal clear blue sky reflected in the still mirror-like water of the lake.  Collin, pleased and almost proud of the weather as if it was his handywork, said they’d spend the day on the boat.  Lo and Lily got into their bikinis and, after breakfast, they got into the speedboat and departed, without Suzanne again.  She and the dogs, Shadow and Bandit, were on the dock as the boat pulled away.  She wished them a fun time and returned to the house as the trio sped off, sending ripples across the lake’s surface.

When they got to the middle of the lake, Collin stopped the boat and turned to the girls, asking, “Want to have some fun?”

Lily’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the tubes and threw them behind the boat, careful to avoid the motor.  Lo was confused, but Lily literally showed her the ropes.  The two of them got on top of the inner tubes and held on to the rope, tethered to the boat.

“Don’t go too fast!” called Lily to Collin.  Then she showed Lola the hand-signals for: faster, slower, stop.

Collin gave the thumbs-up sign.  Lily turned to Lo and asked, “Ready?”

Not sure what was going to happen, Lo gave a frightened nod.

Lily gave the thumbs-up sign back to Collin and away they went.

The tubes bounced off the waves made by the boat as they scudded across the surface of the lake, slowly at first, but with gradually increasing speed.  Lo held on tightly and was having a fun, if terrifying, time.

They danced across the nearly vacant lake, making large figure eights and tight circles.  But then Lo felt something that made her apprehensive.  She could feel the bottoms of her bikini sliding off with the resistance of the waves splashing over her.  She put up her hand on her head to indicate stop, but Collin didn’t see until it was too late.  About fifty yards back were her yellow bikini bottoms floating on the water.  She was lucky they floated.  Actually, she would have been find either way I guess.

When they realized what had happened, Lily and Collin had a good laugh.  Lo let go of the rope and swam, her naked bum bouncing in the water, as she retrieved her bottoms.

She put them on in the water and tied the strings tightly.

They continued the tubing adventure until, when Collin stopped the boat again, Lo lifted up her head to listen to what he was saying.  She couldn’t hear him over the sputter of the engine, so he did pantomime.  Then she realized that he was telling her that her top had fallen down.  The waves had pushed her bikini top down below her tits.  They laughed again at her public exposure.

When the trio returned to the cottage and docked the boat, the girls decided to lie out and sunbathe.

Collin joked that since Lo’s bikini was so averse to staying on her body, she should just tan in the buff.  Lo took him at his word and asked, “Is that ok?”

“Sure,” he said with a wide grin.

Both Lo and Lily removed their bikinis and lay out in the noontime sun while Collin and Suzanne waited on them hand and foot.

At one point, when Collin and Suzanne were inside, Lo turned to Lily next to her and asked, “Don’t you feel a little awkward nude in front of your uncle?”

Lily looked at Lo, smiled mysteriously, and simply said, “Nah.  It’s no different than being naked in front of my dad.”

Lo went back to sipping her G&T wondering what that meant.

The rest of that day was spent lounging around the house, swimming, playing badminton, horseshoes, and cornhole, all in the nude outside while Suzanne and Collin, dressed, looked on like two proud parents.  A few boats slowed down as they passed about a hundred yards from the shore, enamored of the view, no doubt.  That night they all stayed in and watched a movie.  Of course Collin chose, Blue is the Warmest Color, which neither Lo nor I had seen, despite all the adulation and criticism it received.

By the time they watched it, Lo and Lily had showered and were dressed, but that didn’t stop Lo from stroking her pussy surreptitiously under a blanket during that eight minute long steamy sex scene.  She wondered, of course, what Collin or Collin and Suzanne were scheming by putting that particular movie on for “the girls” to watch.

I’m cumming for you

Mount Bliss: The Invitation

We had just finished watching David Hamilton’s film, Laura.  Yes, a throwback to 1979 and one that I had seen back in the “arthouse” days of cinema.  I had told Lo about it and her curiosity was piqued.  Not only was it sexy, taboo (in more ways than one), delightfully innocent (in more ways than one), and a classic of retro soft-porn, but it was an artifact from my sexual “youth,” or at least my younger days.  It was incredibly difficult to obtain since no one in America would touch it, stock it, sell it, or even acknowledge its existence.  But I had managed to procure a copy.  Anything for my Lo.

When I say we had just finished watching, keep in mind that Lo rarely gets through hardly any movie in one sitting, let alone a film involving overt sex and sexuality.  It had taken us five nights of her masturbating on the couch in fifteen minute bursts (towels spread on the couch and on the floor, of course) followed by role playing in the bed before we got to the final, climactic scene.  You could say she watched the movie in fits and spurts.  Now we were on the bed and she was looking up at me, over her shoulder, saying, “Daddy,” and I stood behind her bare bottom ready to ‘deflower’ her when suddenly her phone began vibrating.  Usually vibrating objects in the bedroom are welcome, but this was worse than coitus interruptus.  This was pre-coitus annoy us.  Lo grabbed her phone, looked at who was calling – Lily – and decided to answer it.

“Hey!” she said enthusiastically.  Then she turned around again, looked at me and made a motion with her free hand that I should penetrate her anyway, even as she was on the phone.

“Laura” still

“No, it’s not too late to call,” she said as I eased inside her very wet snatch.

“Ooooohhhh,” she moaned into the phone, “that sounds good!”  I thought she meant to say, “that feels good,” but whatever.

I continued going in and out as she was saying, “Uh hu.  Uh hu.  Yep,” to her friend.

I was feeling a little mischievous and I wanted a little more attention thrown my way, so while she listened to Lily on the phone, I grabbed her ass with both hands and slowly began circling her rear entrance with my thumb.  Like a planet gravitating to the event horizon of a black hole until it is swallowed by the singularity, suddenly my thumb was up to the first knuckle in.

Lo’s Lips

“WOW!” I heard Lo exclaim, but it sounded more like “Owwwww” with a double-u just barely in front.  She turned around and gave me a look before saying, “I mean. . . that’s just so exciting!”

Enjoying the attention I got and also enjoying embarrassing her a bit, I continued to insert my thumb up to the second knuckle.  I could feel my cock thrusting up against her rectovaginal septum.  She began to ease into it.

“Ooooh yess,” she said into the phone.  “I can’t wait.  It will be sooooo goooood.”

I held her ass with my hand, grabbing on from the inside with my thumb as my four fingers held her from the outside.  I pulled out my cock as I felt her cunt clenching.  I grabbed her even more tightly with my hand and watched as she squirted all over the bed and my knees.  It felt as if I had a leaky catcher’s mitt on my right hand.  Using that hand, I flipped her over on her back, before sliding my thumb out from in her.  She looked up at me and then I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head as she was breathing heavily.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.  Yes, I’m ok.  Just, uh, washing the dishes,” she said.  “OK, I’ll talk to you later.  Thanks!  Bye.”  She hung up.

“Washing the dishes?” I asked, incredulously.

“Shut up!  Who gave you permission to double-penetrate me?”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I loved it, but that doesn’t mean I expected it.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to take a phone call just as I was going to knock on your front door.  What did Lily want anyway?”

“Do you remember Lily’s Uncle Collin?”

“How could I forget?  His big house, his big horse, his. . .”

“His big cock!” Lo interrupted.

“You didn’t see his cock.”

“I know, but I thought that’s what you were going to say next.”

“I was going to say his big personality.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Anyhow, what about him?”

“He called her and invited us to his other house; a little cottage on a lake.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you, me, Lily and Jim.”

“For when?”

“Next week.”

“And you said yes?”

“I hope that’s ok, Daddy.”

“You know I can’t next week.  I have a huge case on Friday of next week and I’ll be prepping for it intensely.”

“Oh, but Daddy,” she said, making a sad, pouty face.”

“No.  There’s absolutely no way.”

“Can’t you work remotely?”

“I can’t.”

“Well, then I guess you can’t go.”

I was perplexed for a moment.  “So, you’re going to go?”

“I don’t have to be at work next week.  Why wouldn’t I go?”

Something about this didn’t sit right with me.  I mean, usually I wouldn’t have a problem with Lo’s spending time with another man.  But usually it would be a day or a night.  But a week?  And with this man.  Something about him I didn’t like.  He was rich.  He was older.  He was in great shape.  Did I mention how rich he was?  OK, yes, I felt threatened.  I admit it.  The other guys Lo likes to fuck are rarely competitors.  Sure, they might have a big cock, good technique in bed, or some other winning trait, but never did the whole surpass the sum of the parts.  Lo’s hole might have been filled, but I always knew that she’d come back to me after she came with them.  But with this guy, I wasn’t so confident of that.  Maybe it showed when Lo said that she’d go without me.

“Oh Daddy, are you worried?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be worried,” she said, grabbing my cock and putting it in her mouth.

“Is that what you plan to do with Uncle Collin?”

She looked up at me, her mouth full up, and grunted something.  I couldn’t tell if it was a yes or a no.

“What?”

She let my junk fall from her mouth and asked, “Do you want me to?”

Now I couldn’t tell if my answer was yes or no.  The thought of it turned me on, but it also terrified me.

She took my cock back in her mouth and diligently applied all her oral techniques to it, pleasing me physically, even as she tortured me mentally.  I came in her mouth and I’ll confess, I came to the thought of Collin taking my place, doing exactly as I was doing to my little cum-slut.

Lola Loves Dick

Honey Dripper Double Dipper

[Continued from A Case of the Mondays]

Lola had told me that she would be going out to dinner with friends that Monday night.  Knowing no one was waiting for me at home, I stayed late at work.

“Good night Mr. H.,” said my secretary.

“Good night Ms. Gale,” I responded without looking up from my desk.

I could feel her standing in the doorway to my office looking at me.

“Yes, Ms. Gale?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. H., but do we have so much to do?  I thought we were on top of our cases.  Would you like me to do something for you?” she asked, playing with her blond curls and leaning slightly over as if to see what tasks I was working on so late, but really just giving me a good view of her breasts.  I often wonder what it is she’s really offering.

Lo’s “Do Not Disturb” sign

“No Ms. Gale.  That won’t be necessary.  I’m just reviewing the quarterly numbers.  Have a good night.”

Not Ms. Gale, but looks much like her.

“OK, Mr. H.,” she said, turning around and affording me a good look at her long legs in her short skirt and heels as she sauntered down the hall.  If Lo only knew what possibilities I pass up while she dangles her dalliances for my delight.

About two hours later, I went home thinking that Lo would still be out.  But when I got in, I heard her ecstatic screeches emanating from the bedroom.  I followed the sweet sound down the hall and, rather than find Lo engaged in some self-pleasure stress relief, I found the bedroom door closed and her pink panties hanging on the doorknob, indicating that she was engaged in a session with someone and did not wish to be disturbed.

I turned around and began making some leftovers for my dinner.  As I was stirring the soup on the stovetop, suddenly Lo walked in, butt naked, holding her black dildo.  My presence startled her.

“Oh, hi Daddio,” she said, after briefly wielding her sex toy like a weapon.

“Going to bludgeon me with your masturbatory mace?”

“Ha,” she chuckled, “sorry.  I just came.”

“I know.”

“I just came to get a glass of water.”

“Who’s here?”

“Oh, just Robert.”

“Just?”

“Well, only Robert.  One at a time tonight.”

Lo’s Leaky Quim

“Am I on the list?”

“Did you make a reservation?”

“Do you have an app for that?”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in,” she said, grabbing the glass of water and a paper towel.  “Hold this,” she said, passing me the dildo.

I held the giant black cock in my hand gingerly as she put the paper towel between her legs, wiping a trail from her knee up to her crotch.

“Sorry, I don’t want to track up.”

“How considerate.”

She took back her dildo and waddled with the paper towel between her legs back to the bedroom.

I heard her say, “HH is home,” before she shut the door.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard the door open and Dr. Robert Smith appeared in the little dining area by my table as I ate my soup.

“See you at the faculty meeting?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“Don’t forget that proposal that I put forward for us to vote on.”

“It’s in the forefront of my mind,” I assured him.

“Well, goodnight.”

“Say,” I said, not letting him go just yet.

“Yes?”

“How are things with that woman in Italy?” I inquired.

“Linda?”

“Yeah.  Still romantically involved?”

“Actually,” he said, “funny you mention it.  Try to keep this to yourself,” he said in a hushed tone, “but I think we’re going to get married.”

“Married?!” I said.

“Shhhhh,” he cautioned.

“Right.  Well, this is news.  How’d this come about?”

“It hasn’t yet.  I’m going to go visit her to propose.”

“When?” I was eager for him to go.

“In a couple of weeks,” he said with a broad smile on his face.

“So I suppose you won’t be needing Lo as your goto girl to get your rocks off anymore?”

“I certainly hope not,” he said.

“Well, isn’t that rude?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he apologized almost immediately.  “I mean, hopefully she’ll agree and come here to live.”

“I wish you the best of luck, my friend.  Does Lo know?”

“Not yet.  It’s a bit of a secret until I pop the question.  OK?”

“Sure, sure,” I said reassuringly.

“See you at the meeting.”

“Yup.”

With that he was gone.

I wasn’t even done with my soup when I heard Lo call out from the bedroom, “DADIOOOOooooo!”

That’s my queue.

I appeared in the doorway.  She was spread-eagle naked on the bed.

“I guess that’s why they call it a bedspread.  When you get on it, you really spread.”

“Shut up and get in me.  You know you want to.”

“What do you see in him?”

“His accent.  When he speaks, my pussy glistens.”

“Does he fuck you with his words?”

“Well, he uses his tongue in more ways than one.”

“How was it?” I asked her.

“Amazing,” she said, sounding very content.

“Why?”

“His cock is so long.  It’s like twice as long as yours.”

“Mine is over eight inches.  You’re saying he’s sixteen inches long?”

“Well, no.  Maybe like ten.  But it feels twice as long.”

I removed my clothes and looked at her.  I asked, “How do you want it?  Quick and quiet or long and loud?”

“I always like long and loud, Daddy.”

“Looks like your quim sprung a leak,” I said.

“My what?” she asked.

“Your quim.”

“That’s a new one,” she said.

“Actually, it’s quite old.”

“What is?”

“Quim.”

“What is a quim?”

“Quim is a slang word for vulva.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re saying my quim is quite old?”

“No, the word is old.  It probably comes from ‘queem,’ meaning ‘snug’ in Middle English.”

“Well, I know what I cum from,” she said, looking at me with stars in her eyes.

“Lots and lots of cock,” I said.

“I am easy to please, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What else makes your quim cum?”

She squirmed around, got on her tum, and looked up at me with her big brown eyes.  “Why do I find your intelligence so incredibly sexy?” she asked, licking her lips as she stared at my cock.

“Because you’re a sapiosexual.”

“Don’t you find that flattering?” she asked.

“No, not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just interested in me until the next smarter person comes around.  Frankly, it’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh, that is not true.”

“Really?  How do you know it’s not true?”

“Because you’re more than just intelligence to me.  You also have a sweet bod and an amazing dick and you can fuck me senseless.”

“That may be, but I still think you might just fall in love with Deep Blue, given the chance.”

“Deep Blue?”

“Yeah, you know, the IBM computer that beat Kasparov at chess.”

“Yes, I know that, silly.  I was just thinking. . .”

“Thinking what?”

“Thinking about how deep he can be.”

“Good grief!”

“I mean, if you could hook up that computer to these,” she said, holding up her Hitachi and dildo with both hands, “then, I may just fall in love.”

“You can already do that.  They make vibrating dildos that can be controlled remotely through your phone.”

“They do?!”

“Oh, geez, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She immediately grabbed her phone and began googling it.

“See,” I said, “here I am hard up and ready to do you, and you’re on your tum, nude, fingering yourself to images on your phone.  I told you you’d pass me up for the next most intelligent thing.”

“Awe, do you have blue-balls?” she asked condescendingly.

“Yes!”

“Then get behind me and deep blue me!”

“Say please.”

“Now, after I complimented you, you’re full of yourself.”

“Yeah, well, soon you’ll be full of me too.  But you have to ask for it.”

“Please fuck me.  Please fuck my pussy.  Please fuck my cunt.  Please fuck my quim.”

“That’s better,” I said as I slid into her cum-filled hole.  I added, “I guess it’s not really a quim.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not snug at all.”

“That’s not what Robert said.”

“What did Robert say?”

“Fuck me harder and I’ll tell you.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me harder,” she requested politely.

I pushed in further, and when I pulled back, I heard a slurping sound from her supple snatch.

“That’s it,” she said, moaning.  “Robert said I have a sweet, cozy cunt.”

“Lo,” I said, “you are our sweet honeypot.”

“He deposited his nectar in the hive.  Will you?”

The thought of her and Robert flooded my mind and soon I flooded her with a load of my own.

“What happened to long and loud, Daddio?”

“Sorry, but the idea of Robert filling you up put me over the edge.”

“You’re such a fucking philosopher, cumming to the idea.”

After I pulled out, she reached down and spooned up some spunk with her fingers and licked it.

“You’re damn lucky,” she said, “that not only am I easy to please, I’m also eager to please.”

She put the Hitachi between her legs and went to work on herself.

“I have a little bad news for you.”

“What’s that, Daddio,” she asked as if from afar, dwelling in her dreamy state of bliss.

“Robert confided in me that he intends to propose to Linda.”

“What?!” asked Lo as she sat up rapidly, dropping the Hitachi and gushed from between her legs onto the bedspread.

“Yep.  He told me as he was leaving.  But it’s a secret right now.”

“That bastard!”

“I guess your cunt was just a temporary salve.”

“A what?!  My cunt is the cause of his convalescence.  Do you think he’d have the confidence to propose to her if he wasn’t fucking me?  Just a year ago or so he was suffering from crippling insecurity and erectile dysfunction.”

“Just remember, he told me in confidence that he plans on proposing to her.  It’s just between us.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t blow anything.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

 

A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition

“A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition” first appeared in ENM (Ethical Non-Monogamy) Magazine, March, 2020 issue.

It was said by the renowned sex researcher, Alfred Kinsey, that “A nymphomaniac is someone who has more sex than you do.”  It would seem that modern psychology has caught up with Kinsey’s insight.  The dictionary of psychological disorders, the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), removed nymphomania from its list in 1980.  But does that mean Nymphomania no longer exists?

In popular culture “sex addiction” has been used as a catch-all for a number of “disorders” that have been named and described: hypersexuality, compulsive sexual behavior, erotomania, hyperfilia, etc.  But the DSM puts almost all of these under one listing: Sexual Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.  This heading is as ambiguous, amorphous, and as slippery as the subject itself.

However, let’s keep in in mind that no matter how something is categorized or listed, it’s not a “disorder” unless it is distressing to the person exhibiting it or has detrimental effects in one’s life.  If the result of the behavior is a net negative, then it could be labeled a disorder.  That net negative could be manifested psychologically, as in feelings of guilt and remorse, or could result in actual physical harm to oneself.  Other net negatives could include weakening of relationships, loss of a job, or other harms external to oneself.

Fan, getting off to Lo at work

In modern European and American culture, nymphomania has as checkered a past as the women diagnosed with it.  Even though there is a male correlate to it – satyriasis – the two labels have been employed in radically different ways.  Historically, the ascription of “nymphomaniac” has been applied to women who, had their gender been ascribed to men and the behaviors described as those of men, rarely would they be described as afflicted with satyriasis.  In other words, historically, women exhibiting the same healthy and robust sexuality of men would be diagnosed with a disorder while their male counterparts gained the praise and admiration of others as Don Juans.

But, in the last decade or so, with the rise of internet porn, the term “sex addict” has been increasingly utilized in less stereotypical and gender specific, patriarchal ways.  Famous actors such as Rob Lowe, David Duchovny, and Charlie Sheen all have come out as being sex addicts, making it easier for others to do so.

Despite the DSM debunking the myth of nymphomania and our modern society’s willingness to embrace a more gender-neutral term applicable to men and women, the term “nymphomania” and its connotations continues to live on in the culture’s consciousness and the collective unconscious.

Fan, getting off to Lo

Nymphomania is a concept that has a history to it almost as old as civilization itself.  In Jewish lore there was Lilith, the contemporary or predecessor of Eve, who refused to be subservient to Adam and, supposedly, insisted on taking the “top” position during sex.  Her name is derived from the Hebrew for “night” and she is associated with other female night demons who seduce men.  As such, she is a succubus.  This tale probably has its origin in explaining men’s nocturnal emissions.

Throughout history, assertive women and sexually promiscuous women have been associated with the demonic.  Accusing a woman of being a witch was one way of marginalizing or eradicating powerful and lustful women.  In more recent times, diagnosing them as hysterical was another.  Perhaps if we rewrote history as “hystery” (from the Greek, hyster, meaning “womb”) we would have different stories to tell.  But, from the ancient Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, in which the goddess of love, Ishtar, unsuccessfully tries to seduce the hero, and the temple prostitute, Shamhat, successfully seduces and thereby defiles the natural man of the wild, Enkidu, to Helen of Troy, whose face and unfaithful figure launched a thousand ships, to the Sirens and Calypso, all the way through to Gatsby’s fair Daisy Fay Buchanan, wanton women have been revered and rebuked by the West’s confused attitude toward female sexuality.

In the West, only Virgins, like Mary, and doting, devoted wives, like Penelope and Henry James’ Isabel Archer, get univocal approval.

(The East, by contrast, is not as uncomfortable with strong, sexual, and wise women.  From Cali to Guan Yin, not only are they revered and worshiped, but even the gender ambiguity of Vishnu is given prominence.)

Even in the contemporary medium of myth-telling – movies – the nymphomaniac is never depicted as anything but pathological and her fate is always a morality tale told from the point of view of the negative exemplar.  Lolita, the touchstone of our modern-day horny heroine, has been made into a movie twice: once in 1962 by Kubrick and once in 1997 by Adrian Lyne.  Based upon the classic book by Nabokov, the films and the book stand in a league of their own.  The ultimate fate of Nabokov’s Lolita (spoiler alert) is morally ambiguous.  Clearly a letdown to the pedophile protagonist, Humbert Humbert, when he finds his life-long love at the end of the book, we are never given any insight into mature Lolita’s feelings of fulfillment in family or lack thereof.  However, it is, perhaps, too hasty to say that there have only been two Lolita films made.  One of the most popular tropes in porn is Lolita.  In this way the myth of the nymph lives on and on.

Lola Down, 21st Century Lolita

Other films, such as Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac and Craig Brewer’s Black Snake Moan, put nymphomania front and center.  However, in both, the female protagonist is depicted as pitifully damaged and pathologically in need of redemption.  In the latter film, that redemption takes the form of Christina Ricci, dressed only in her panties and a cutoff t-shirt, being chained to a cast iron heating radiator by a strong black man (Samuel L. Jackson).  As psychologically dubious as this “treatment” might be, it could be said that the film gets to some deep, underlying archetypical images and fantasies buried in the American collective unconscious by playing on race, gender, and slave tropes.

The former film, Nymphomania, as drab and sexually non-stimulating as it is, does get to some diagnostic characteristics.  As Robert Weiss, founder of the Sexual Recovery Institute, has discussed in his “Thoughts on Nymphomaniac: Volume I,” in the Huffington Post, March 20, 2014:

Nymphomaniac: Volume I is “sex addiction accurate.”

  • Joe’s sexual exploits start out (rather early in life) as innocent and fun-seeking, but before long she’s using them less for enjoyment and more for escape. This is typical. Simply put, addicts of all types engage in their addictions not to feel better, but to feel less.
    • Joe views men as objects — a means to sexual gratification — rather than seeing them as equals and potential partners in emotional intimacy. When her lies actually ruin one man’s life, she feels nothing for either him or his wife and kids. Nor does she change her behavior.
    • Joe spends nearly all of her free time pursuing sex. She has no other interests or hobbies.
    • Joe’s sexual activity escalates in both amount and intensity. She has more and more partners as her addiction progresses, and she engages in ever-more risky behaviors.
    • Joe’s response to any sort of emotional crisis is sex. When her father is terminally ill in the hospital, she has sex with an attendant. Later, she experiences sexual arousal at his deathbed.
    • Joe seeks a sense of control and power through sex. For instance, she ‘allows’ or ‘forbids’ certain activities. At one point she speaks to Seligman about ‘privileges’ granted to one of her regular sex partners. Using sex to feel ‘in control’ is common with sex addicts, especially with female sex addicts.
    • Joe appears to have not bonded appropriately with her ‘cold hearted bitch’ of a mother, relying on her father for kindness and nurture. Her childhood flashbacks show that she learned ways to ‘please’ her father, and that doing so was incredibly important. Even though their relationship does not appear to have been sexual or otherwise abusive, it is clear that she learned early on that the way to get love from men is to please them. This type of dysfunctional childhood bonding is common in sex addicts of both genders.
    • By the end of the film, Joe’s entire life (not just her sex life) has become ‘monotonous and pointless.’ She compares her daily movements to those of a caged animal. Everything she does is rote and repetitious, and nothing has any meaning — especially not the sex. At one point she says to a partner, during sex, ‘I can’t feel anything,’ and it is clear that she is talking about both physical numbness and emotional numbness.

Though Weiss points out in the article that female sex addicts are often ascribed “highly shaming labels” such as nympho, slut, tramp, and whore, “that society routinely attaches to women who have a lot of sex, regardless of whether they do so because they enjoy it” or not, he does not in any way discuss the possibility of a positive nymphomaniacal experience in which those labels are coopted into accolades.

The linguist Geoff Nunberg has pointed out that many one-time derogatory and profane words have been coopted and reappropriated by the subjugated, marginalized, and oppressed populations against whom the slurs were originally leveled.  As he says about the term “slut,” “after a Toronto police constable told a crime prevention meeting that women should avoid dressing like sluts if they don’t want to be victimized,” “slut walks” served as a way “to protest the whole culture of slut-shaming.”  He points out that, “it is hard to imagine ‘slut’ being reclaimed the way ‘queer’ was, as a respectable label for academic programs and cultural centers.” (“Slut: The Other Four Letter S-Word,” on Fresh Air, WHYY, NPR, March 13, 2012)

This sort of reevaluation of values is exactly what Lo is literally embodying, pushing psychology today to free itself from the prejudices of patriarchy.  She wears the labels “slut,” “tramp,” “whore,” and yes, “nymphomaniac” proudly (and she often wears little else).  Between us, we use the words “nymphomania” and “slut” as honorifics rather than stigmatizing terms.  Every slur can be reclaimed and used subversively by the oppressed.

There is some evidence that lustful, liberated women are making inroads into the tyranny of normativity.  Thinkers such as Rollo May have proposed a theory of the daimonic, hearkening back to the origin of “demonic” as coming from the Greek “daimon.”  For the Greeks, daimon meant something more akin to a personal deity; a guiding angel, you might say, rather than a guardian angel.

May uses the term “daimonic” to denote a drive that is not univocal in nature and, in one word, is akin to Freud’s dual Eros/Thanatos drives.  As May says of the daimonic, it “has the power to take over the whole person.  Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples.  The daimonic can be either creative or destructive and is normally both.”  (May, Rollo, Love and the Daimonic, p. 123)  It is worth mentioning here that, before May and Freud, there was a theory of human psychology in Judaism that posited two chambers in the heart: the yetzer tov and the yetzer ra.  The former, “the impulse for good,” and the latter, “the impulse for evil,” worked in tandem and the rabbis believed that neither was “evil” (unlike the proverbial Christian good angel and devil on one’s shoulders), but that the yetzer ra was a force that propelled humans to creativity and sexual union, but it needed to be bent toward the yetzer tov in order to avoid its destructive tendency and be sublimated into socially acceptable expressions and activities that benefited society.  One can easily see the parallels between that and Freud’s Eros/Thanatos theory.  Perhaps “parallel,” is too benign.  Maybe Freud was more plagiarizing from his own tradition.  In line with this theory of complementarity, May has said, “The daimonic (unlike the demonic, which is merely destructive), is as much concerned with creativity as with negative reactions.”  (Diamond, Stephen A., Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic: The Psychological Genesis of Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic, from the Forward by Rollo May, p. xxi)

In the nymphomaniac, the daimonic drive has been described as a propensity toward indiscriminate, compulsive, and often risky sexual behavior.  To the extent that this is dangerous, harmful, and results in negative net results, it is “pathological.”

But that’s not the whole story.

As was mentioned above, the daimonic is also the engine driving creativity and the nymphomaniac can use her prurient powers for good, positive, “healthy” outcomes.  As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the pioneer psychologist in the study of “flow” or “optimal experience,” has said, “One manifestation of energy is sexuality. Creative people are paradoxical in this respect also. They seem to have quite a strong dose of eros, or generalized libidinal energy, which some express directly into sexuality.”  (Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly, “The Creative Personality,” Psychology Today, 1996, p. 38) I believe that the reverse of this is true as well: One manifestation of sexuality is creative energy.  Perhaps that is because, as Csikszentmihalyi also says, “a certain spartan celibacy is also a part of [the creative person’s] makeup; continence tends to accompany superior achievement. Without eros, it would be difficult to take life on with vigor; without restraint, the energy could easily dissipate.”  (Ibid.)  Of course, the nymphomaniac is characterized by her lack of “continence,” but that does not mean that her prodigal participation in pleasure isn’t also a creative, artistic, and perhaps even a performative act.  Seeing sex and art as two separate realms is the fundamental error in this analysis.  Sex can be every bit a creative endeavor, full of “flow” and genius as a Picasso or Pollock painting.  The only difference being that the “results” are fleeting, ephemeral, perhaps even “dissipated.”

In my particular case, I would say that writing about Lola Down, my own personal high priestess of porn and beloved nymphomaniac, is also a result of the daimonic and the writing often flows of its own accord in peak moments, like autographia.  According to Csikszentmihalyi, flow is the experience of intense concentration during creative endeavors.  For me, that describes the act of writing.  For Lo, that describes the act of fucking.  For me, the restraint and “continence” is crucial to produce just the right amount of effulgent energy.  But for Lo, her creative power may be more akin to “the woman who identifies with the archetypal role of Muse or femme inspiratrice, providing sexual love to artists.” (Diamond, Stephen A., “What Motivates Sexual Promiscuity?” Psychology Today, 2011)

This is not to say that Lo doesn’t have her own creative endeavors, her own talents, interests, and areas of outstanding achievement.  Far from it!  But she does love being celebrated as muse, not only by me, but by all the artists who have been inspired to draw or paint her, as well as those who have written lovely verse and prose to her and about her.  In addition, she frequently hears from women and men and couples who credit her as an inspiration in the bedroom.  Frequently these accolades are accompanied by “tribute” photos of the men, women, and couples cumming to her inspiring images.

As much as all this worship is proudly welcomed by Lo, it is also of concern how many people – mostly men, but some women – write in to lament that, for them, the nymphomaniac is akin to some sort of mythical figure, a unicorn, a phoenix, or the Holy Grail.  These awestruck admirers cannot believe that one actually exists, in the flesh, as it were.  They had heard rumor of such creatures, but had never met one or received confirmation of their reality.  Lo, like the Holy Grail, is for them a receptacle into which they can pour forth all of their hopes and dreams (and bodily exuberances) and also a cup that runneth over, spilling forth for all who thirst for her baptismal water.

Is this perceived paucity of nymphos due to the stigma attached to the term, repression of sexuality, or a failure to recognize and reclaim the term in a positive light?  I don’t have the answer to these questions, but one thing was clear early on in my relationship with Lo – I was unable to find anyone writing about their nymphomaniacal girlfriend and the great challenges such relationships entail.  So I began writing about it in a public forum in order to inform others and also to find out if others could inform me.  It’s been a fun and enlightening journey and I thank all of you for your words of wisdom, encouragement, and envy.  But most of all, I thank Lo for opening me up to all new vistas of life’s possibilities.

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