Impressive Size

[Prequel to Breeding Farm]

“It’s so big!” gasped Lo.  “It’s beautiful.  Stunning.  I just can’t believe it.”  She truly was impressed.  We had just pulled up in the driveway of Lily’s uncle’s mountain resort home.  Her uncle was traveling around Europe and, since Lily was one of his favorites, he gave her permission to use it and to host friends.  We happened to be the friends that she and Jim chose to invite up for a long weekend.

The air was crisp and the sky was clear and blue and radiant.  All the trees on the mountain were in their peak of autumn perfection.  We had the whole secluded house to ourselves.

Lily showed us around the grounds and gave us a tour of the home.  Then she showed us to our quarters.  The bed was enormous!  The bathroom and bathtub were almost as big!!!  This would be fun.  Lo and I looked at each other knowingly, expectantly.

Since it took us quite a while to get up there, winding through the dangerous mountain switchbacks, we made some dinner and then had some drinks.  We were all tired from the trip and Lo and I were eager to get to bed and get to each other.

Lo All Wet

She got naked and hopped into the clear glass encased shower as I drew a bath in the tub.  From inside her little chamber, she pressed her tits up against the glass and then turned and pressed her ass up against it as she used the hand-held showerhead to massage between her legs.

She came a couple of times, struggling to keep her screams to herself.  Then she emerged from the shower and slid her sexy self down upon my hard cock as I lay half-submerged in the water of the claw-foot white porcelain tub.

We had to be careful because we didn’t want to make too much noise or too much mess.  When she had finished cumming in reverse cowboy position, she turned and descended on my spear once more, this time facing me.  Grabbing her tits and pulling her nipples, she asked me, “Shall I be a good girl this weekend, Daddy, or a bad girl?”

“You’re already a bad girl,” I said, “so, you might as well not deny your nature.”

She came again and then urged me to get up and out and dry off so we could enjoy one another in the plush bed.  Bent over the side; face down in the down pillows; on her knees straddling me – we explored many positions, before she finally opted for being bent over a chair and seeing herself in the full-length mirror as I made her tits swing with my thrusts from behind her.

Just as we were both approaching the pinnacle of success in this position, she commanded, “Stop!”  She wasn’t kidding.  I did as she bade me.  “Get a towel and put it on the floor.”

I followed her command.  The towels were thick and heavy and the floor was wall-to-wall carpet.

“Get behind me and keep going, only harder.”

I again followed her command and within moments her clenching climax had pushed my member right out and she was squirting what seemed to be gallons on the towel beneath her.

She collapsed and said, breathlessly, “I knew that was going to happen.”

The next morning, after I had made everyone breakfast, we headed out on a hike.  I happily pulled up the rear, right behind Lo, whose behind, in her black athletic tights, was the best inspiration for me to keep going.

Lo – Tight

It was an exhilarating trek through the crisp air of the mountain tops.  The sights and the thrills were worth the exertion.

When we got back to the house, we were famished and we heated up a big pot of chili we had prepared before the trip.

We then settled into our vacation home and after a few glasses of wine, Jim suggested a game of cards.  We decided on poker and I raised the stakes by suggesting strip poker.  Lo kicked me under the table.  I didn’t know why at the moment.

Our friends were game and we got to playing.  Little did everyone (except Lo) know, but I’m a terrible poker player.  I can never keep straight which is the better hand.  Lo took pity on me and helped me all she could, to her own detriment.  She did her level best of spying on my cards to help me, to discard her good hand, to lift me up by lowering herself.  Doing that was tougher than actually winning!  But before too long, she was shirtless, sockless, and then pantless.  Not to be outdone by her rival, Lily went garment-for-garment with Lo.  After only a couple of rounds they were both braless.  It came down to a question of who was going to lose her panties first: Lo or Lilly?  You guessed it!  Lo was out and in her birthday suit.  She seemed more than happy to be the loser of the game.

During the hour or so that it took for Lo to win or lose, depending on how you’re scoring this, we had finished a bottle of wine and Jim and I had broke the seal on our special bottle of Scotch.

Eager to keep playing, Lo suggested that since she had no more clothes to offer, we play for certain “favors.”  These new rules started out tame enough.  First Lo had to bend over to pick up a napkin.  Then she had to get up and walk around the table to refresh my glass and Jim’s glass, with a little curtsy of course.  She had to remove Lily’s panties when Lilly lost.  But soon we moved on to having Lo’s writs be tied up around one of the support beams in the room as she bent over.  We found a riding crop that Lily’s uncle used as a decorative prop, and we used it, each taking turns swatting Lo’s ass and occasionally her pussy from behind.  Lily was the cruelest with the crop.  But then we gave Lo some aftercare.  Each of us got a turn fingering her from behind.  She came almost immediately for each of us.  After Lily’s turn (she went last), Lo pressed her legs together and commanded me to grab a towel, as she had the previous night.  When I had spread it at her feet, she spread her legs and looked as if she was putting out a fire from between her thighs!

“Holy shit!” cried Lily.  “I’ve never seen that actually happen in real life!!!”  She seemed thrilled.

Lo slowly slunk to the floor, exhausted.  She looked up, a smile on her face, a bit proud, her legs spread in a ‘V’ shape, and a puddle underneath her.  “Really?” she asked.

“It happens all the time to Lo,” I chimed in.

“I’ve read about it, I’ve seen it in videos, but never actually saw a woman squirt.  How do you do it?”

“I don’t do it.  It just happens.  Talent, I guess.”

Lily untied Lo’s wrists and helped her up.

“Do you think you could show Lily how to do that?” asked Jim, turning the tables on his bride, since she had been eager to have Lo teach Jim how to pleasure a woman despite his diminutive size.

“I know a lot of people claim to be able to teach it,” said Lo, “and there are a lot of websites out there dedicated to how to make a woman squirt, but I don’t know.  I only know that it works for me when I’m super aroused.”

“It’s more of a problem than a talent,” I said.

Lo frowned at me.  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Come on, Lo,” I said, “you know that you sometimes accidentally squirt at very inconvenient times.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

“And the number of sheets we have to go through. . .”

“Yeah, it makes for a lot of laundry.”

“And how you shoot me right out of you mid-coitus.”

“That’s true too,” she admitted.

“I don’t need to squirt,” interrupted Lily, “I just would like to cum when having sex.”  She blurted it out and I could see that Jim’s request of Lo and Lo’s performance clearly were making her feel inadequate and so she turned the tables right back on Jim.

“Look,” said Lo, always the peace maker, “I have an idea to help everyone.  I’ve done this before, or a variation of this.  I’m already naked.  Why don’t we all get naked, light a candle, sit in a circle, and speak openly, honestly, candidly about sex, love, and relationships.  As long as the light of the candle is illuminating our circle, there is no judgment, no accusation, no falsity.  We will be vulnerable and compassionate with each other.  Our nudity is only an outward symbol of our inward vulnerability.”

Lily looked at Jim and he nodded his head that he was willing to give it a go.

We all got naked and for the first time I got a view of the little that Lilly had to work with.  Jim’s physique is fit, trim, and small.  Attractive, but tiny.  I’m not hung like a horse (horse cock being something Lo dearly likes), but compared to Jim I was.  I had to remind myself, by the candlelight, there is no judgment.  Right.

We all sat down in a circle with the candle at the center.  Jim and I were cross-legged and both Lola and Lily, being more flexible, sat full lotus position.

Lola started us off, “Sex is good, but sex without meaning, without connection, without intimacy can be empty and leave you cold.”

As Lo said these words, I couldn’t help but think of all the times she fucked guys, strangers, in the back seat of the car as I drove, or at the beach as men came all over her body, or. . . .  Wait, I reminded myself again, no judgment.  Got it.

“Yeah,” said Lily, picking up the thread of the conversation, “that’s true, but sometimes, while having that meaningful connection, I just want to get rammed home with a long, hard cock.  I want to submit to a domineering, rough, take-command partner.  That can be both hot and intimate.”

“Jim?” asked Lo.

“I know she likes that, but it’s just not me.  I’m kind, gentle by nature.  I love her.  I don’t want to. . .” he trailed off, not even able to articulate the deeds she wanted done to her.

“That’s totally understandable,” said Lo, “but there is a major gap between her desire and yours, or her idea of intimate intercourse and yours.”

“It’s clear you love each other,” I said, “but do you trust each other?”

“Completely,” said Lily right away.

Jim just nodded.

“If you trust each other,” I followed up my thought, “then maybe an open relationship.  Having a bull who will come over and do for Lily all the things she wants and needs could expand your relationship pallet.”

“A bull?” asked Jim naively.

“A man who fucks married women,” explained Lily.  She obviously had explored this herself.

“H.H. does that with me,” said Lo, “and he loves it.”

“I like to see her satisfied,” I said.  “If she likes to be fucked by another guy, then why should I stand in her way?”

“Come on,” said Lo, to me as if calling bullshit.  “You are not simply standing to the side while another guy fucks my brains out.  You love it.  You love to see it and to guide him through it and to hear all about it if you can’t be there in person.”

“She’s right,” I confessed.  “Honesty.”

Jim, who was very visibly uncomfortable by everything he was hearing, said, “I just don’t think I can do that.  I mean, we’ve given an open relationship a chance and it drove me crazy.  I almost called off the wedding because I was so enraged and jealous.”

“Jealously is a symptom, not a cause,” said Lo.

“A symptom of what?”

“Of so many things – a feeling of inadequacy, a fear of being left, anger with a previous girlfriend who hurt you.  I mean, it could stem from any number of deep-seated insecurities.  But mainly it’s a form of fear.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real.  Understanding it doesn’t remove it,” said Jim.

“No, you’re right.  I’m just pointing out that what you’re feeling doesn’t stem from what Lily is doing.  She loves you.  But she also has desires.  She wants to be with you.  But she also wants to have wild, earth-shattering orgasms.”

“And I want to be used, abused, humiliated, and tossed aside like a worthless fuckdoll” said Lily.

There was an awkward silence before Lo said, very reassuringly, “All healthy desires if channeled properly.”

I decided to be daring.  “Would you like me to demonstrate?” I asked, knowing full well that Lo’s jealousy would explode inside her heart like a hydrogen bomb.

“I’d love it,” said Lily looking at my limp cock.

Lo gave me a sidelong glance and said, “I don’t think right now is the time for that.  We’re making progress.”

“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t mean now.  I just meant. . .”  I was caught now, but it was worth it to get Lo’s ire up after that perfectly detached and clinical explanation of jealousy she just pronounced as if she were so far beyond and above it.  But I felt bad immediately after because it suddenly dawned on me that she might not have been talking from a superior position to jealousy, but from her intimate knowledge and understanding of it within her own heart.

As if to strike back at me, she then said, “Jim, I feel as if you’re bottling up your emotions and not letting them flow out.  What can I do to help you?”  As she said this, she caressed his knee with her left hand.  I saw his cock twitch at the unexpected touch.

“I just feel like I don’t know how to please her.”

Lo’s hand moved closer to his crotch.  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“I want to find a way that I can be everything she needs,” he said.

Lo’s hand got to his balls and began fondling them as his micropenis started to grow.

“We cannot be everything for our partners.  We have to be content with who and what we are for them and who and what they are for us.”  She began stroking his little cock with her thumb and index finger.  “Do you like that?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” he said, “it feels good.”

“Lie down,” said Lo.

He reclined on the carpet as Lo continued to jerk him off.  Her right hand was caressing his legs, spreading them apart.  Her left hand gently held his little member between her thumb and finger.

“You know, I wouldn’t even feel you if you were to penetrate me,” said Lo.

“I know,” said Jim as if in a hypnotic trance.

“But that wouldn’t matter to you, would it?” asked Lo.

“No,” said Jim, “I’d be really into it.”

“I know you would,” said Lo.

From where I was sitting, I could see Lily begin to stroke her pussy as she continued to sit in the lotus position.  She was enjoying this.

Lo lowered her mouth to Jim’s cock and tickled the tip with the tip of her tongue, clearly in order to let us see what she was doing.  Then she lifted up her mouth and said, “Don’t cum.”

“I’m trying not to cum, but it’s so hard.  It feels so good.”

“Stand up,” commanded Lo.

Jim stood up.

Lo pulled him forward and positioned him next to Lily as Lo, still on her knees, manipulated his tiny pud with her fingers.

“Close your eyes,” Lo said.

Jim closed his eyes.

Lo stroked faster and faster and lifted her mouth to his little balls to kiss and lick them.

“You may cum now,” she said, and no sooner did she say this than he came, right on Lily’s face.

“Open your eyes,” said Lo to Jim.

He followed her command and looked down at Lily who was covered in his ejaculate and smiling.

“There you go,” said Lo.  “Did you like that?”

Both of them said “Yes” at the same time.

By the way, I was hard as a rock at this point and I finally said, “Lo, any chance I will get to cum?”

“Oh, are you hard-up?” she said in a mocking manner.

“Yes.”

“Do you deserve to cum?” she asked with a look in her eye that told me I was being punished for my comment earlier.

“I sure do,” I said confidently.

She was feeling surly, but despite that, she indulged me and she told me to lie back.

I followed her instruction.  To my surprise, instead of doing to me what she had done to Jim, she sat on my face.  She was facing my toes and she invited Lily over as I began lapping Lo’s wet pussy lips like a thirsty dog.

Lily grabbed my cock and balls (I could tell it was Lily, though I couldn’t see her, because I know Lo’s touch) and began furtively fondling.  Then she began to jack me off.  I felt a mouth lower on my cock, but now I wasn’t too sure whose it was.  Lost in the mystery of it all, I gave in and came in heavy, forceful spurts.  Lo came as well, drenching my face.  I practically drowned.

When she got up and I sat up, Lily said, “You come almost as quickly as Jim does.”

“That’s not fair,” I said in my defense, “I’ve been watching Lo for over an hour now.  I was primed and ready.”

“Ready to be pumped dry,” said Lo.

“Well,” said Jim, “I think we all got something out of this.”

“Um,” said Lily, “of the four of us, three of us came.”

“Well Jim,” said Lo, “you got some work to do.”

Jim smiled and asked Lily, “Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

Lo looked at him, got up, exited the room into the mud room and returned with one of the dog leashes that was hanging there.  She put the collar around Lily’s neck and gave the handle to Jim.  “That’s not how you ask a slut like Lily.  Take her upstairs.”

Jim stood up and gently pulled on the leash.  Lily got on all fours and crawled like an obedient bitch at his side.  Off they went.

“Well done,” I said to Lo.

“Don’t give me that ‘well done’ bullshit.  You’re in big trouble mister.”

“Me?” I said innocently, “What did I do?”

“You know very well what you did.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.  I just want you to admit it.”

“OK, so maybe I tried to suggest that I do something with Lily.  But look at what you actually did with Jim.”

“There is no comparison.”

“How not?’

“Because I’m your slutty hotwife and you are my obedient, chaste, little stag.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

“No.  Actually I wouldn’t.  I was just teasing you to see if you would be jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.  I just want you to know your place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And where is my place?”

“Right between my legs.”

 

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Feed it to Me

Faye Danielles Getting Off to Lo’s Pics

 

“I’m having a dinner party on Friday,” said Robert to Lo as he was about to depart from one of his rendezvous romps with Lo in our bedroom.  She was standing naked in the hallway and I was opposite her, fully dressed, holding a tumbler of whiskey.  Robert was between us, but facing Lo.  “I was hoping you both would come,” he continued as he turned to me.

Lo walked up to him, a sparkle in her eye, and grabbed his arm.  “That sounds like fun,” she said, without even consulting me or my calendar.  “Who’ll be there?”

“It’s a group of colleagues from Australia.  They’re here for a conference and my department nominated me to welcome them.”

“Australia!” Lo exclaimed.  “I love going down under.”

“You’ve never been there,” I said, without thought to her double-entendre.

“I can’t wait,” she said without regard for my remark.  “What time is the party?”

“I’ve invited people for seven,” he said, and before he could say any more Lo interrupted.

“We’ll come over at five!  I love party planning!”

“But. . .” stammered Robert.  “I was just inviting you to. . .”

Lo grabbed his arm and said, “A bachelor like you needs help throwing a party.  Trust me.  It takes a woman’s touch.”  She leaned in closer to him and kissed him, her naked body pressed against his clothes as her left hand reached down and stroked his cock over his pants.  “We’ll see you at five.”

Robert turned, nodded to me, and left in a rush, slightly embarrassed perhaps.

Friday Lo left work early and spent time at home getting all dolled up.  By the time I walked through the door, she was wearing her black pumps, her short black skirt, and a low cut, tight fitting blouse.  Her red lipstick stood out against all the black.

“Hi Daddio!” she said, “I thought you’d never get home.  Are you ready to go?”

“I guess,” I said.

“Oh no,” she replied, looking me over.  “You can’t go like that.  Here, let me dress you.”

She led me to the bedroom where she promptly picked out exactly what she wanted me to wear.

“No, not that.  I can’t stand that shirt,” I said.

“It looks great on you.”

“It’s too constricting.”

“We can’t all wear sweats all the time you know.”

“Just anything but that.”

“Fine,” she said, picking out an equally disliked shirt.  I made no argument because I could see her determination.

“You just like me because I’m like you’re little plaything that you can dress up, take out, and show off,” I said.

“I could say the same about you, but I dress myself up, take myself out, and show myself off.”

“Touché.”

We left and Lo was very anxious and eager in the car.  She kept rubbing my crotch as I drove and talking about the party.  At some point I turned to her and said, “You know, Lo, it’s not planned to be a gangbang?”

“Who says?” she pouted.

We arrive just before five.  Robert had four grocery bags full of food on the kitchen table.  His plan included baking fish, a pasta side-dish, and a pie, as well as lots and lots of appetizers.  Lo dove in, but before getting to work, she said, “I don’t want to get my outfit dirty while prepping.”  She stripped down naked, but for her heels, and put on a cooking apron.  Where it tied in the back revealed her sexy sweet ass.  She was the picture of domestic bliss.

Lo was fast, efficient, and knew exactly what she wanted.  Both Robert and I fumbled to keep up with her.  But eventually we had everything laid out nicely, ready to receive Robert’s international cadre.

Surveying the open-plan living room and dining room, Lo seemed well pleased with her accomplishment, but then she said, “I just realized, I’m starving.”  Between the kitchen and the dining room there was a tall half-wall that had a number of appetizer dishes laid out on it.  Lo bent over and leaned on the wall, looking at the appetizers.  As she did, her right hand moved down, behind her cooking apron and to her ass where Robert, who stood behind her could see.  She added, “And I’m horny.  Robert, are you up to fuck me?” she asked as she slapped her ass loudly to get his attention, as if he wasn’t already staring at her cunt.

Without a word, as if her ass slap was a special language between them, he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock.  As he approached her from behind, she looked up at me and said, “Daddy, feed me.”

I was standing in the kitchen and saw her open her mouth.  I picked up one of the small hors-d’oeuvre’s and raised it to her lips.  She bit her lip as Robert entered her, but then she opened wide and took the whole thing.

“Feed me,” she commanded again as Robert was going at her from behind.

I selected a different delight for her.

Robert grabbed onto her waist.  I continued to feed her and I said, “Lo, you want me to make you plump?”

“Yes Daddy.  I want to be phat for you.  I want to be soft and doughy.”

I continued to feed her and Robert continued to fuck her.

“Lo,” I said as I watched her tum and tits jiggle beneath her as Robert thrusted from behind, “I love your fat, your flab, your rolls, your chub, your pudge, your every delightful round, juicy, plump, perfect curve.”

She came.  Then she said to me with a breathy voice, “Get me that.”

At first I didn’t know what “that” was, but she pointed.  It was a bottle of extra virgin olive oil.  I went to pass it to her, but she just held out her hand and said, “Pour.”  I put a little in the palm of her hand.  She reached back and applied it to her special spot.

“Robert,” she said, “You may have my ass now.”

Lo knew very well how, as permissive as I am, the granting of that one reserved pleasure makes me jealous.  I should be the one to get the benefit of her ass.  But I let her have her way.  He entered her slowly as she guided him with her slippery hand.  She moaned.  He said, “Lo, you’re so tight.”

“Feed me!” she commanded me again.  I obeyed.  By this point the cooking apron’s knot had come untied and was drooping beneath her, only held up by the collar around her neck.  Her tits were flopping forward and back as Robert thrust with strong movements deep in her ass.  I saw her hands grab onto the marble of the countertop as she braced for a powerful orgasm.  Robert began to moan loudly as he was on the cusp of cumming in her ass and Lo squeezed her knees together and held on tightly to the marble.  She squirted all over Robert’s legs and the floor as he pulled out.  Then Lo either decided or instinctively did something to get my ire up (and something else up).  She turned round rapidly and got on her knees to take Robert’s cock in her mouth and let him explode there.  She was still squirting on the floor in spurts and, when Robert finally pulled out of her hungry mouth, she collapsed in her own lady juices on the hardwood floor.  Her legs were like jelly now.  She squirted again as she said, “Holy fucking shit!” with both hands between her legs in a futile attempt to stem the flood.

Lola

Robert ran to the bathroom and got a few towels.  He and I both helped Lo up and onto the couch, careful to place another towel under her before setting her down.

Robert dutifully cleaned up the mess on the floor and I gently kissed Lo’s forehead until she had regained some of her strength.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Robert cheerfully.

I removed Lo’s wet shoes and got a few paper towels to dry them off and clean them up.

Soon enough everything was neat and tidy again.  Lo went to the bathroom to change back into her party outfit and spruce up a bit, leaving Robert and me alone.

“You know, you have an amazing woman,” he said.  “Not only is she a fucking crazy nympho, but she can cook and host a party.”

“She’s pretty smart, too,” I added.

“That goes without saying,” he replied.

When Lo returned to the room, she looked ravishing.  Even if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, her glow said, “I just got fucked beyond consciousness.”  Too bad she had already been ravished by Robert and the guests were due soon, meaning I would be hard up the rest of the evening.

While she and Robert were in the living room and I in the kitchen, she said something to him I couldn’t hear.  Then she came to me and was very demure.

“Daddy?” she opened.

“Yes,” I said without a hint of emotion, which gave away that I was very emotional.

“Are you mad?”

“No, Lo,” I said, perhaps lying, though I really didn’t know my own feelings.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I hesitated, but she came close and kissed me, open mouth, with lots of tongue.

When she was done, I said, “Well, wasn’t that just the coup de grâce?”

She replied, “You mean crudités?”

“I don’t know, was taking his cock in your mouth right from your ass merely an appetizer, or was it the final blow?”

“Well,” she said with a wicked smile, “I hope not final!”

She kissed me again and grabbed my package as she did saying, “Admit you liked it, Daddy?”

I said nothing, but my silence gave me away.  I couldn’t both feign anger and be aroused at the same time, and the two contradictory feelings in me were wreaking havoc on my tortured soul.

Then she revealed to me the plan she and Robert had concocted together.  Actually, that’s not fair.  I’m sure that it was all Lo’s idea.

“Daddy,” she began, gently grabbing my arm.

“Yes?”

“If it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”

Sun-Kissed


Beach Reading

            A July vacation at a beach house for a week can be the perfect antidote to all of your problems.  Unless that vacation is a family reunion and the beach house is for thirty people.  And among those thirty people are married dads in their forties and fifties who are in good shape.  And your girlfriend is Lo.  Then, you might have ninety-nine problems, but Lo is the only one you have to really worry about. 

            That was the case this week.  Every seven years or so my extended family decides that we should make a pilgrimage from all the corners of the globe, rent one enormous house on the beach with enough bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate us all, and stay under one roof for seven days straight.  We have been doing this for a few decades now, but we hadn’t had one of these since I started dating Lola. 

            She hadn’t met most of my family – only heard about them through various stories I told her and, to be fair, with thirty of them, I doubt that she really could tell one from the other without having met them in person.  But this week, right in the middle of July, we were all going to be up-close and personal with each other.  Foolishly, I hadn’t thought of warning her prior to our departure.  This was my family.  Did I need to warn her?  Apparently so. 

            You see, if I do say so myself, I come from a very good looking family.  My brothers and sisters and my cousins have certain family features in common – features that drive Lo wild.  I’d even venture to say that, of the lot of us, I am probably the least physically attractive.  My male relatives all have strong-cut jaws, expressive eyes, and the classic broad shoulder tapering to a thin waist.  They are very health conscious, for many of them were athletes even through college.  My female relatives share many of the same good genes that have preserved their looks into midlife.  And they are married to rather attractive spouses. 

            Throw into this mix of middle-age men – all walking around topless, biking, kayaking, swimming, cooking, and being dads to their respective kids – a twenty something nymphomaniac with daddy issues wearing a skimpy bikini and you have just brought all sorts of wrath down upon your head.  Such was my lot for a week. 

            It began innocently enough.  We were on the beach with a few of my cousins.  The sun was blazing and the waves were rough and tumble.  We had our boogie boards with us and, after a beer, Lo said she wanted to ride the waves with me.  We grabbed the boards and went into the refreshing water, waded out past the crashing waves and waited for the right moment.  As we were out there, Lo turned to me and said, “Daddio, I’m so wet!”

            “We’re in the ocean, Lo.  Of course you’re wet,” I replied.

            “I don’t mean like that,” she said with a devilish grin.

            Before I could respond, a wave came and soon she and I were soaring towards the shore atop the white crest of the surf.  Conditions were just right for multiple sorties.  She looked happy, like a little girl.  I had never seen her see so happy.  She was grinning from ear-to-ear.  What I didn’t realize, since I was next to her for most of the wet-n-wild rides, was that each and every time we caught a wave and were carried in atop the undulating surge, Lo’s bikini top would be pushed downward and, each and every time she stood up from the excursion, her breasts were popping out, wet and glistening in the sun for all my cousins to see. 

            I only found out about this later, when, back in the house, she got naked in the bathroom with me to take a shower.  “Are you mad, Daddy?” she asked.

            “Why would I be mad?” I said as I saw her perfectly tanned body before me.

            “Because of my ‘accidents’ at the beach.”

            “What accidents?” I asked, naively. 

            Then she told me about her struggles with keeping her top on her tits. 

            We got in the shower together and washed each other down with body-soap.   It was one of those large shower/hot tubs that had a comfortable seat to sit.  I told Lo to sit down below me and spread her legs.  She did so, mistakenly thinking that I was going to put my cock in her mouth.  She opened up to receive me, but, instead, I took aim and let lose, releasing the golden stream formed from the many beers I had had on the beach.  She relished in the warm stream I doused her in, covering her tits and tum, puss and feet.  When I was good and done, she pulled my hand down and reversed positions with me and, putting one foot up on the ledge, she took aim and allowed me to get it just as good as I gave it. 

            Then she got down on her knees on the floor of the shower and took my hard cock in her mouth, fondling my balls with her right hand as her left rested on my knee.  Her long, wet, dark hair bobbed up and down under the stream of the shower.  She wanted me to cum, that was clear.  She worked hard to earn my ejaculatory appreciation, but I denied her the satisfaction of completion.  Before she got lockjaw, we got out of the shower and dried off. 

She bent over the bed, her ass beckoning me.  It was my turn to get on my knees and worship her tumescent pussy lips with my tongue.  She tasted sweet and I wanted more.  I buried the tip of my tongue as deep as it would go in her cunt and then in her ass and back again and again.  She came multiple times, her cum dripping down the sides of my mouth and saturating my beard as it streamed down my neck onto my chest.  I delighted in making her so wet.  Due to the cramped living quarters, she had to bite her lower lip and swallow her orgasmic screams.  She buried her head in the pillow to moan and groan. 

At some point I heard the sound of a radio playing from the pool area outside our window.  AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” was narrating the scene. 

She was a fast machine,

She kept her motor clean

They sang as I licked the smooth mons pubis of Lo from behind.  She could take it no longer and she crawled forward on the bed like a wounded soldier out of the heat of battle.  She rolled over, exhausted already, and spread her listless legs. 

She was the best damn woman that I’d ever seen.

I slid in her pussy with my aching rod and, honestly, I couldn’t feel a thing.  Just wet.  So wet.  At the very instant of my shaft lodging deep inside her, she came in waves – waves like those of the ocean that we were riding just a little while earlier.  After her quick climax, she was suddenly filled with new energy.  She rolled me over onto my back and slid her wet slit down the length of my solid pole, kneeling on top of me as she pulled and pinched her nipples.  I grabber by her hips and rocked her forward and back, slishing and sliding over my hips.  

She had a certain size,

Telling me no lies,

Knocking me out with those American thighs.

She came again.  Again, all I could feel was wetness cascading down upon me.  

She dropped her head down to bite on my neck and then she slid off of my rod slowly as her tongue slid down my chest, over my abs, eventually resting at my cock.  She took it all in her mouth and down the back of her throat. 

Taking more than her share,

She had me fighting for air,

She told me to cum, but I was already there.

I filled her with my pent-up power.  But she wasn’t done – no, not by a longshot. 

She wanted no applause,

Just another course,

Made a meal out of me,

And came back for more.

Had to cool me down

            To take another round,

            Now I’m back in the ring

            To take another swing!

            She licked and sucked, bobbed up and down, and opened wide for my balls – everything and anything she could do to get me back up and hard again.  When she finally succeeded, she lowered herself slowly on me once more and grabbed me, letting her nipples gently touch mine as she let her body become enfolded in mine.  I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. 

Shower Time

From her state of delirium, she began whispering in my ear.

“You know,” she said in a hushed tone, “I think your family likes me.”

“I’m sure they do,” I said.

“I mean, especially your brothers.  They really like me.”

“I think they really liked what they saw.”

“And I liked what I saw.”

“What was that?” I asked as I felt her excitement increasing with the taboo things coming out of her mouth.  I slowly moved my hands from her back to her thighs, to her ass cheeks, and then I pulled them, spread them, and placed my index finger on her special spot.

“They’re so built,” she said enthusiastically, “so mature.”

“You mean old.”

“Not old.”

“Older than me.”

“Yeah, but in such good shape.”

“I see,” I said, knowing where she was going. . . and liking it.

“And so big.”

“Big?” I asked as I entered her ass with my finger.

“Their cocks.  Their balls.  Wearing a Speedo. . .”

She couldn’t finish her thought.  She was cumming and cumming harder than any of the previous times.  My finger was deep inside her and I could feel her clenching up on it and releasing multiple times. 

When she was done, all orgasms finally brought to fruition and her body exhausted, she said to me, “That last orgasm, it felt just like I was riding that boogie board.  It felt like I was riding that wave, topless, the sea carrying me, lifting me, thrilling me, covering me with spume and salt and sun.”

“Did you cum when you were out there?”

“I think I might have, a little bit.”

“You really are a nymph, fucked by Poseidon himself.”

The Porn Identity

“You are beautiful.  Your eyes are beautiful.  Your mouth is beautiful.  Your breasts are beautiful.  Your cunt is beautiful.”

Lola Down, spread wide

I was reading a message Lo received on her phone from an admirer of the blog.

“A regular Shakespeare, that one,” I said.

“I think it’s sweet,” she responded, as her left hand began to fondle her pussy lips under the covers.

“Sweet?!  He left out your hair, your nose, your neck, your shoulders, your tum, your ass, your legs, your feet, and your toes!”

“I’m sure he was going to get there,” she said matter-of-factly. 

“Can I get there?” I asked, sounding a bit desperate for affection, or her attention. 

“Get where?” she asked, playing with me.

“Anywhere.  Between your legs, ideally.”

“Let’s see where this goes,” she said about her internet friend, unfortunately, and not about my bid for her caress. 

“I know where this goes,” I said, putting her hand on my hard rod.  I was hard because her internet friend had sent a slew of photos of himself jacking off to her pics and cumming all over them.  She looked good in the sexy photos.

“Daddy,” she said, protesting, “I’m busy trying to please my loyal fans.”

“I don’t mind, as long as you do it while spreading your legs.”

“I’m spreading the love.”

“Can you spread the love wide enough for me to get in on it?”

“Your pussy looks pretty and gorgeous,” wrote another fan.

“It is pretty, gorgeous, wet and waiting to be filled,” she wrote back.

“Me, me!” I said, “Pick me.”

“Calm down, Daddio,” she said, full of vanity fed by her fans’ flattery.

“Tell me more about you,” wrote another internet correspondent.

“Read the books,” typed Lo, “There’s too much to tell and too many people to tell it to.”

“You’re hard, girl,” responded the inquirer. 

“Funny, everyone tells me I’m easy,” quipped Lo, “and that makes them hard.”

“I love your stories,” wrote one female fan.

“H.H. writes.  I inspire,” wrote Lo to her.

“Do you inspire with your body?”

“And my wit.”

“I’m inspired right now!” I said to Lo as I grabbed my cock firmly.  “They all are cumming to you.  Can I cum to you?”

“Cum to, on, in, with, over, under, around, beside – I provide the pussy.  You pick the preposition,” she said, dismissively. 

I got up on my knees and stood over her, jacking my cock. 

“Just don’t cum on my phone,” she said as she continued to scroll through her contacts.

She continued to fondle herself beneath me for a while before she said, “Daddio, lie down next to me.  I’ll help you.”

I lay down and she grabbed me by my shaft.  “I’m your righthand man,” I said as she jacked me off with her right and scrolled with her left. 

“My wife is nothing like you,” wrote one desperate, sad husband.

“You two should read our blog together.  It would open up her mind. . . and pussy.”

“I could never suggest it,” he wrote, “she’d freak!”

“But you like it?” asked Lo.

“God yes,” he sighed through the medium of type.

“Tell me what a young, sexy, slutty person such as myself does for you.”

“I’d love to eat your yummy, sloppy, used, cum-filled holes,” he wrote.

“Another bard!” I opined sarcastically.

“Shut up and cum,” commanded Lo as she tugged more aggressively.

“Are you in a rush?” I asked.

“Both hands are full,” she said, “leaving nothing for my snatch.”

“I’ll happily fill that gap.”

“You stay right where you are,” she ordered.

“Has she ever caught you jacking off?” wrote Lo to her married man.

“No.  It would be a big deal if she did.  It would be an even bigger deal if she caught me jacking off to you and not to porn.”

“I am porn,” protested Lo.

“I mean, it’s one thing to get off to anonymous, vacuous, impersonal, professionally produced porn and it’s quite another thing to get off to you.”

“That’s more like it,” responded Lo.

“That’s it, I’m getting up and out of bed,” I said.

“But nooooo.”

“Yes.  You’re just treating my cock like it a joystick to your favorite video game.”

“A game I always win.”

She continued stroking.

“Are you into length or girth?” asked her internet interloper.

“I’m into cock.  And cock gets into me.”

“Once again, I must protest!” I said.  “You’ve got a very capable, compatible, and coveted cock right here, but you’re not letting it into you!”

“What, ole man, my right hand isn’t enough for you?”

“Not when you’re teasing those guys about how fast and loose you like to play.”

A new fan chimed in, “I have to stop sinning.  I’m religious, that’s why I can’t go on doing this.”

“Sex is spiritual.  And I’m a sex goddess.  Worship at my alter,” replied Lo.

“Now you’re offering theology lessons?” I chided.

“No.  Just encouraging them to be good semenarians.” 

“That was terrible.  Low hanging fruit,” I replied.

She cupped my testicles and said, “Very low hanging.”

“Oh, does your wit never cease?!”

Now she squeezed my balls to show me that I had better be careful about mocking her.

Another woman asked Lo if she liked taboo tales.  To which Lo responded, “How taboo are we talking here?”

The woman said she was into watersports and bestiality.

Lo wrote back, “Let’s knot.”

“Don’t you mean. . . oooooh, I get it,” I said. 

“Woof!” she said to me.

The woman, whose name was Mila Beijne., went on to tell a little story.

I was a model a few years back and after doing a shoot I was talking a bit with the photographer, the lighting guy and his assistant.  They invited me to their home.  I trusted them and liked them.  We were all horny and I was willing, I admit.  At the photographer’s home we had some drinks and then they slowly undressed me.  They got naked too. They were all good looking men and one was really hung. They kissed me everywhere and started fucking me in my mouth, pussy, and ass.  I was very horny. After quite a long time, they changed positions, each taking a different hole.  Then they rotated again and fucked me a long time again till I was exhausted.  They filled me up in every place they could.  But the fun was not over yet.  One put me on the floor and the other started urinating over me. Then the other two joined in.  It was a lot and all over my body and in my long hair.  There was no shower, so it was a special experience driving home.  It was my first time doing that and I liked how the act showed their dominance over me.

Mila asked to be included.
Mila B. through the years

            I could see Lo getting increasingly more excited as she read the short little story from Mila.  She quickly wrote back, “Yeah, HH does that to me.  I love it.  Being below him, feeling his warm stream flow over my back and butt.”

            “We haven’t done that in a while,” I reminded her. 

            She ignored me because another fan had written to her.  This guy was old.  I mean, like twenty years older than I and I’m in my 50’s!  His name was Bob and he wrote:

Hi Lola, and thank you!  You are an inspiration to me.  I hope  you can give me some advice.
I’m in my 70’s and I’ve been in a relationship for over 25 years.  No passion or sex for the last 20 years.  I’m at a loss as it has become impossible to talk about it with her.  I’ve made the mistake of combining our lives and living situations this whole time.  It has become all about her for the last several years.  I feel I’m too old to begin another relationship with a woman, yet I still admire all women and all that I see on your blog.  I’ve even become curious about men as I feel that may be the only way to explore my unresolved sexual fantasies.  Yet I’m still conflicted as I long for an intimate relationship that I’ve missed in my life. 

Do you have any suggestions??

            Lola wrote back, “To tell you the truth, Bob, I’m just good wanking material, but I’m not a sex coach or a sex therapist. You might want to check out one of these trained professionals to get some expert advice on having more sex with spirit.” She provided a link.  Then she added, “But if you’re looking for a real hotwife, cum to me.”

            “What?!” I said to her, shocked that she’d even offer that to him. 

She ignored me and typed, “I have a very soft spot for old married men whose wives no longer have sex with them.  Would you like to see it?”

Of course he said yes.  Lo sent him a naughty pic of the place between her legs that she was denying to me. 

“Lo, that’s just cruel!” I said.

“What?  Soon you’re going to be that old and you’d want the same from me.  Wouldn’t you?”

“What’s cruel is that I’m that old man who is being denied right now!”

“If what I’m giving you isn’t good enough, then take matters into your own hands,” she said. 

            As she said it, another married man was singing her praises in a message that read, “I’ve come to worship your holy holes.”

            “See,” she said, “I’ve got fans who know how to woo me.”

            “Woo you?  They worship you!”

            “What’s the difference?”

            After some flirtatious back-and-forth, Lo asked to see a pic of the man’s wife.

            He asked why she wanted to see that and Lo responded, “I like to see who I’m beating out when guys are beating off to me.”

            The guy sent a photo.  His wife was beautiful.  But apparently she lacked the ‘personality’ of Lo.  He wanted to know more about Lo and he asked her questions.

“I’m like an open book, there for anyone to read,” she responded, “You just have to know where to find me.  Are you familiar with the Dewey Decimal system?”

            “Like, in the library?”

            “Yeah.”

            “So, I can find you in my local library?”

            “If only,” wrote Lo, “I’m indexed under XXX.” 

            “As in 30?” he wrote with a winkface emoji.  “Still pretty young.”

            “Pretty, young, and slutty.  I’ll tell you what, you can virtually finger my folios at: mysexlifewithlola.com,” she said, “and you can also buy the books there.  I suggest you get a few copies of each and donate the extras to your local library so everyone can spread my centerfold for free.” 

            As Lo was typing, she guided my cock to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the tip.  She looked up at me as her hand continued to glide back and forth from the base to her mouth.  I began to cum and she hungrily held me in place so as not to spill a drop.  I was so worked up that I couldn’t control my convulsions.  I began breathing deep, heavy breaths.  Lo looked up at me and said, “What?!  Are you having a stroke?”

When I finally managed to catch my breath, I looked down at her and said, “Yeah, I’m having a stroke.  A really good stroke.”

Lo wrote a final line to her fans: “Good night all you kinky sexy rogues.  Dream of me in your debauched nocturnal thoughts.”

She put her phone down, grabbed her Hitachi, lay back, shut her eyes, and began vibrating until she was the one violently convulsing, squirting, and gasping for air. 

When she was done and had removed the Magic Wand from between her legs, she grabbed my hand and placed it on her bare pussy for me to feel how wet she was.  She’s proud that she can turn on the tap almost at will. 

“Pull my pussy lips, Daddy,” she said.  I stretched them.  “Harder.”  I pulled more.  “Harder Daddy,” she complained.

“Lo, if I pull them any further they’ll be down to your knees.”

“Try it,” she said.  She likes the pain or pleasure. 

As I pulled I asked her, “What were you thinking about when you came?”

“I think about you.” 

This line from her was as false as Marlow telling Kurtz’s betrothed that Kurtz’s last words were her name. 

“OK, that’s enough of that,” I said, calling bullshit.  “What did you really think about?”

“I think about you,” she said.  “And I think about cock.  I think about a lot of cock.”

“That’s it?”

“And pussy.”

I gave up there knowing that the litany of licentious thoughts could go on endlessly.  I sat silently and she mistook my silence for judgment. 
            “You don’t know what it’s like to be me!” she blurted out defensively. 

“Oh yeah, you’ve got it so hard,” I said sarcastically.

“I wish,” she said even more sarcastically as she lifted up my flaccid member in her hand. 

“You know,” I said, “your porn persona and your personality are not consistent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All those people out there thinking you’re a nymphomaniac, thinking that I am so inundated with your pussy that I barely can find a moment’s peace, yet the reality is that you denied me just now.”

“There’s no inconsistency.”

“How not?”

“Because I know you’re going to write about this and so it will be part of my porn persona.”

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Orgasms


The Red Dress

            My good friend John from Seattle and his three sons (ages twelve through eighteen) came over to visit while they had winter break.  They were in our town looking at colleges for the oldest and enjoying a bit of vacation – skiing, museums, historical sites.  I hadn’t seen John for a couple of years and I was glad that, instead of booking a hotel, he asked to stay with us for the four days they were here.  I suppose I should have known, however, that having all that testosterone under one roof would drive Lo wild. 

            It’s hard to keep Lo’s libido under wraps in the best of circumstances, but fill the house with four male guests, three of whom need to sleep in the living room, and, well, keep on reading.   

            One of the days that John and the boys were visiting, Lola came home from teaching her night class at the local community college where she has been guest lecturing on sex and sexuality in the Woman’s Studies department.  She walked in the door in her knee-high black leather boots with the tall heels and her hip-hugging tight red dress.  She looked. . . voluptuous.  She said a quick hello and then grabbed a glass of Cabernet and joined us in the living room where the boys were sitting, playing games or texting on their smart phones or iPads, and John and I were quietly talking. 

            “I’m so disgusted!” Lo began.

            “What?  What happened?  Did class not go well?” I inquired.

            “I know it sounds ridiculous for a woman in her twenties to say it, but honestly, kids these days!”

            “What happened?” asked John. 

            The boys turned their attention to Lo.  Or, rather, they had looked up from their blue-glowing technology the moment Lo walked in the door and now Lo had their rapt attention.  She sat on the couch and said, “Not that many years ago, when I was an undergrad, I wouldn’t have even thought of texting during class.  I mean, yes, I would be on my laptop and not always taking notes, but isn’t it a sign of disrespect to openly text during a class?” 

            “Don’t you have a policy against it or something?” I asked.

            “Yes, of course I do!  But these two guys in the front row – they are on their phones the whole time.  They’re texting and even passing their phones back-and-forth between them.  I’ve said something to them privately.  I’ve called them out before the whole class.  Now I’m done.  I’ll just fail them.”

            “It would suck to fail at sex,” John quipped. 

            “You teach about sex?” asked his middle boy. 

            “It’s more than just sex – it’s about consent, the media, law, intersectionality,” Lo began, but she lost his attention after the word sex. 

            We talked a bit more and then the boys asked if they could watch some TV.  To my great surprise, they wanted to watch “Gilmore Girls” on Netflix. 

            “Really?” I asked.  “That show was popular like twenty years ago.”

            “Let’s be real, it never was popular,” said Lo.

            “You used to watch it?” I asked.

            “On occasion.”

            “So why do you boys want to see it?  Isn’t it like a chick-lit show?”

            “HH, you’re so gender-conforming.  Not everything breaks down easily along gender-roles,” said Lo sarcastically, with a hint of irony in her eyes as she spoke to me. 

            “Why don’t you let the boys answer?” I shot back.

            “Haven’t you heard,” asked one of them, “they’re bringing ‘Gilmore Girls’ back.”

            “What?” I asked.

            “Yeah, like ‘Arrested Development’ and ‘The X-Files,’ it’s making a comeback on Netflix.”

            “Oh.” I said, learning something new, “but that doesn’t explain the appeal to you,” I said to the boys. 

            “It’s a good show,” they said as they clicked it on.  “Watch and you’ll see.”

            We watched a couple of episodes together as we ate some Chinese food we had had delivered. 

            Around midnight we went to bed and, in the bedroom, Lo removed her tight red dress revealing that all she had on under it was her bra. 

            “No panties?” I asked.

            “I can’t take the chance of panty-lines in this dress – not with a room full of students watching my every move.”

            “Don’t you think that that can be a bit distracting?”

            “What do you mean?” she asked as she slipped out of her bra and stood naked, looking at herself in the mirror. 

            “You know what I mean.  You’re just fishing for a compliment.” 

            She batted her eyelashes at me and asked, “Aren’t I just the sort of bait that would lure compliments?”

            “That you are.”

            “Well, what are you waiting for?”

            “Don’t you think that the class will be studying your every curve if you wear dresses like that?”

            “Like what?”

            “Let’s just say that a dress like that on a body like yours should be enough to distract anyone from their phones.”

            “I have no idea what you mean,” she said disingenuously. 

            “Haven’t you ever read ‘The Scarlet Letter’?” 

            “Yes.”

            “Well, that’s The Scarlet Letter of dresses my dear.”

            “So, you give my dress an ‘A’?”

            “Ugh.” 

            “What do you think of me without my dress?”

            “Can’t you tell?” I asked, displaying for her my member standing at attention.

            “Though your sign language is easy enough to interpret, tell me.  I like your words.”

            “I think your breasts look pretty and perky.”

            “Go on,” she said as she pulled and twisted her nipples, running her fingers over them to make them even more erect. 

            “And your shoulders are incredibly strong and sexy.”

            “More.”

            This went on for some time with me complimenting the small of her back, her smooth legs, her elegant feet.  Then she said, “You haven’t even mentioned my butt.  I mean, even I want my butt.  If I could be with me, I would fuck my butt.” 

            Finally she got into bed and said, “Don’t you want to fuck my butt?”

            “That I do!”

            I got behind her as she was on all fours and she licked her finger and ran it round her special spot as if pointing out the target.  “Go ahead, Daddio, but be slow and gentle.”

            As I began to penetrate her, she moaned aloud. 

            “Lo, shhhh.  We have guests.”

            I ran it in deeper.  She moaned louder and said, “Gentle!”

            “Right.  Now Shhhh.”

            I lodged myself deep inside her extremely tight spot and she said, “Stay right there.  Does it feel good?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  Now let me do the work.” 

            I remained still as she lunged forward and back, slowly at first, but increasing in speed like a locomotive beginning to pull away from the station. 

            “You know, Lo,” I whispered, “I have a distinct image in my mind.”

            “And what’s that?” she said as she was slowly churning away.

            “Those two boys sitting in the front row of your class, showing each other the texts on their phones that you told us about. . .”

            “Yeah?”

            “I like to think that they found your photos on the internet and now they’re looking at them as you teach.”

            “RED!” she said, referring to our fantasy rule of The Raunchy Game.  Red means, nope, you just crossed a line.  “That’s my worst nightmare,” she said, “stop right there.” 

            Despite her words, I could feel her orgasm beginning to surface.  Not wanting to lose the moment, I said, “Well, I can also imagine them sitting in the front row surreptitiously taking your picture with their phones or their computers or something and then saving the pics for later and jacking off to them in their dorm room.” 

            Lo was coaxing the orgasm and sliding on-and-off my cock, forward-and-back.  “Yessss,” she moaned.  “Do you think they jack off to the pics together?”

            “I wouldn’t doubt it,” I said.  “I bet they do it every night after class.”

“My picture’s worth a thousand orgasms,” she said as she came, quite loudly. 

When she was done, the two of us were lying on our backs looking up into the darkness of the room.  “Can I ask you a weird question?” I asked.

“I love your weird questions.”

“When we were watching ‘Gilmore Girls’ tonight, did you sense something odd about it?”

“Besides the fact that it’s always Friday, the town has five people that live in it, Emily and Richard Gilmore are cliché cutouts of ‘rich people’ and that every problem on the show is a privileged white-person problem?” 

“Yeah, besides all that.”

“Like what?”

“Well, Rory has these two boyfriends, Jess and Dean, and what are they? – sixteen, seventeen?”

“I guess,” she answered, lying on her back, her eyes closed.

“And each of them keeps ending up in scenes alone with her mother, Lorelai, who’s all of thirty-two.”

“What are you saying?” Lo asked, her fingers clearly moving up and down under the covers between her legs. 

“I’m saying that I think there’s some subtext going on.”

“Fuck me and tell me,” she insisted, spreading her legs as she lay on her back. 

I got between her wet thighs and entered her.  I held her tightly and whispered, “Lorelai was a MILF before that term was invented.”

Never one to miss an opportunity to correct me, she said, “Darling, I think MILF was invented then.  You just hadn’t heard about it until much later.”

“Whatever,” I said, “the point is, that’s exactly what she’s supposed to be and then these strapping young men have all these one-on-one scenes with her in the house, alone.  Don’t you think they’re suggesting something?”

“I’d like to see that play out,” she said as her breath quickened.  “When I reach my thirties, I hope I’m a MILF.” 

“Darling, you don’t have kids and you’re already a NILF.  A nymphomaniac that I’d. . .”

“Do you think that’s how they see me?” she asked, ambiguous as to whom she meant, but it didn’t matter, she was already cumming. 

Successful in my duty, I gave myself permission to climax with her, but, sensing my imminent orgasm, she said, “No!  Don’t cum!”  She insisted that I save it just as I was about to reach the pinnacle of my performance.

            I kept on keeping on in her. 

            “I said no!” she yelled, pulling her body away.

            “What the fuck?!” I said in an angry whisper, very frustrated, very aggrieved.  Whereas I am frequently all for edging, keeping my Chi to myself, sometimes I need a release and releasing in Lo is the best release. 

            I turned over, lay flat on my back on the bed, tried to catch my breath as Lo, who had already cum twice, grabbed my member, licked it clean, and then kissed her way up to my mouth. 

            “Why can’t I cum?” I asked.

            “Don’t you know by now?”

            “No.”

            “I like you to stay hard because you never know when I’m going to need your dick again.”

            “Oh, I know all right.”

            “You do?”

            “Yes.  You always need it.”

            “That’s true.  So, keep it cocked and ready so that it is fully loaded at a moment’s notice.”

            Sure enough, she needed it again later that night.  She woke me from a sound sleep as she was watching some MILF porn on her phone. 

Lola is Cumming

            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

            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


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

The Orgasm Gap


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.