Category Archives: fingering

Ultimate Bush

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Lola’s two favorite toys

Lo was on the bed next to me, her Hitachi in one hand vibrating her clit and her horse-cock dildo in the other, filling her hungry hole.  I was sitting up reading the day’s news, waiting for her third orgasm.  With her, they always come in threes.  That morning, the first was with me.  It was one of those wonderful, Saturday morning, simultaneous climax situations where her moaning and saying, “Daddy, I’m cumming,” produced just the opposite of what she wanted.  She wanted to make me harder, to penetrate her deeper, and desire her desperately.  Instead, as often happens, the seductive sound of her voice coaxed my one and only orgasm right out of me and into her.  Luckily, the feel of my essence spouting out of me and pouring into her was enough to cause her first peak to be somewhat satisfying, if only as an appetizer.

She then continued to orgasm number two by pulling out her phone and scrolling through the many photos she had received recently of men in panties.  The ones she likes the most are the married men who surreptitiously steal their wives’ panties, put them on, and play with themselves to her photos until they ejaculate in the red, black, or white lace panties and then put them back in their wives’ drawer for them to discover later – maybe when they’re late for work and hurriedly slip into the first panties they grab, unknowingly putting on the sperm encrusted underwear.

That orgasm was even better than the first, which was not a very complimentary commentary for me.

Then it was onto the Big O.  In the trifecta of orgasms, this third is the one that wins.  The second (performed by her fingers alone) places.  And the first (the one with me) only shows.  You can see, her number system is just the opposite of a horse race.  Speaking of horses, that was exactly what she went for that morning – her Exotic-Erotics Remus Horse Cock Dildo.  That, in combination with her Hitachi Magic Wand, is the gold standard of her orgasms, only outdone by having something – a princess plug, her finger, my cock, someone else’s cock – in her ass.  That orgasm would be platinum and, that plus simultaneously sucking on tits, pussy, clit, or cock would be the diamond award.  But that is the rarest of rare.

Apologies for the digression into Lo’s ranking system.

Back to our story.  Once she had successfully mounted her highest peak that morning, ejaculating all over the covers, she rested in her puddle of pure delight.

Once I could tell she had regained her cognitive functioning again, I said to her, “Did you see what Kim Kardashian’s brand of fashion came out with this week?”

“Skims?”

“Yeah, Skims.”

“No.  What?”

“They released a new line of thongs called pubic hair panties.”

“What the hell is that?”

Kim Kardashian Skims Pubic Hair Panties Ultimate Bush

“I think the name aptly describes it.  Basically, a reinvention of the merkin.  They call it ‘Ultimate Bush.’”

“Let me see!” she said.

I showed her the images from my phone.  She took my phone out of my hand and began masturbating again, pulling on her thick bush.

“I say, skip the panties, keep the pubic hair.”

“Are you really going to go for a fourth orgasm?” I asked in disbelief.

“You know what they say, ‘Go fourth and prosper.’  You want me to prosper, don’t you?”

Why not camel toe panties?

She dropped my phone and had her eyes closed as she fondled herself.  After yet one more orgasm – not nearly as violent as her third – she opened her eyes and hugged me.

“What were you thinking about?”

“When?”

“The thought that brought you to climax, what was it?”

“Oh, I was just thinking if Skims expanded their Ultimate Bush panties to a bikini line.  I was picturing all the women and girls wearing them on the beach.  That really got my juices flowing.”

Only use real human hair or faux fur.

To All the MILFs, Moms, and Masturbators

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Happy Mother’s Day and Masturbation Month!!!

Masturbation Month

“I can resist anything, except temptation.”

The Match Book Club Masturbators

Alia wasn’t a mom then, but she is now.

Alia and woman’s best friend.

Alia

Caylee single

Caylee single and slutty on Halloween

Caylee getting married

Caylee Wedding Night

Caylee baby bump

Caylee keeping it smooth

Not every woman would go to the nude beach at 8 months pregnant, but Caylee would.

Gabbie Gabriella

Gabbie Gabriella

Preggo Gabbie Gabriella

Preggo Gabbi Gabriella

Jessica Poirier

Jessica Poirier with daughter Gabrielle Poirier

Preggo Addy Sins

Preggo Addy Sins

Mr. and Mrs. Sins with baby Sins

Addy Sins reads Match, Cinder & Spark

The very sexy Samantha Massie

Bootiful Samantha Massie

Samantha Massie is a member

Samantha Massie and Lo

Preggo Sam

The Adorable Sara Anne

Sara Anne is a member.

Sara Anne 100% Hotwife MILF

Happy Mother’s Day to these MILFs and all our Match Book Club members! And a BIG Shout Out to Grey Desire who just had her second baby and is now a self-proclaimed “HuCow”!

Grey Desire very pregnant

Grey Desire fisting

Grey Desire Preggo Peeing

Grey Desire lactating

Lola Puts the “Fun” in Fundamental Fantasy

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Lola Dreams of Gang Bangs

 

“Lola, by any chance did you watch Lily Phillip’s fucking a hundred cocks?” I asked over breakfast.

“Who do what?” she replied.

“Don’t be coy.”

We were sitting on the roof deck of a fancy five-star hotel in South Beach.  To my right was the famous Ocean Blvd. and then the Atlantic.  To my left was the roof deck pool, cabanas lining the side of it, and a bar at the far end.  In the pool and lying out in the early sun were topless women and their husbands sunning themselves and drinking cocktails.  It was only ten in the morning, and at that hour a Bloody Mary is basically breakfast.  Or, at least it is when you’re on vacation.

“Of course I watched it,” she finally blurted out.  “Why?”

“I was reading an article this morning that was quite enlightening about it.”

“I bet you were,” she said with jealous derision in her tone.

“Do you care to read it?”

“What’s it called and what do you find so fascinating about it?”

“It’s called ‘Lily Phillips: One Woman’s Dream of Don Juan’ or something like that. In a nutshell, it says that there is an archetypal sexual fantasy for men and another for women.”

“I’m curious.  What would those be?”

“For men, it’s the – well, it’s a little difficult to explain,” I stumbled over my words.  “But basically, every man fantasizes about being an Alpha Male on steroids.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just imagine Rocky, The Terminator, John McClane from Die Hard, all rolled into one.”

“I get it, like Tyler Durden is to what’s his name in Fight Club.”

“Exactly.  And, he doesn’t have a name.”

“The fantasy figure?”

“No, the narrator for Fight Club, played by Edward Norton.  He’s so castrated that he doesn’t even get a name.”

“Castrated?”

“Never mind.”

“And what is a woman’s fantasy?  Please, do tell,” she said sarcastically, underscoring that it is not a man’s place to tell a woman her fantasy.

“According to this article, Don Juan.”

“Don Juan?” she repeated, stunned.  “He’s a male fantasy, if anything.  I mean, he is the prototype for those movies you just mentioned.”

“That’s what’s interesting about this essay,” I said.  “It’s a little too convoluted for me to explain.  Why don’t you read it yourself.”

I texted it to her.  She finished her breakfast, stood up, removed her bikini top, and sat in one of the lounge chairs facing the pool, phone in hand, reading the article.

I ordered a mimosa and sat across the pool from her.  I watched her from behind my dark sunglasses as her left hand held the phone in its palm and her right hand moved lower and lower down her abdomen, to her bikini bottom, and then between her legs, where she pulled the thong to the side and revealed her long, meaty labia.  She slowly stroked them in full view of all to see – especially me.

The boys get a real thrill when Lo’s around

When she was done with the article, she looked up from her phone.  There, in the pool, were at least two men and a few boys who had been spying on her just as I had been.  Let me be clear, everything she did was unconscious.  When she’s engrossed in something – a movie, a book, an article – she is oblivious to the onanistic meanderings of her free hand.  But her audience was engrossed in her.  Each of them – including me – tried to pass it off as if they hadn’t noticed a thing, but it was abundantly evident – to me and everyone else, especially the wives and moms around the pool – what captivated their attention.

She glanced over the brim of her large and dark sunglasses, smiled, fixed her bikini bottom, and walked to the bar where she sat on one of the stools.  It was a small, tiki-style bar, only big enough for four patrons at a time.  She waited for the bartender who, at that moment, was delivering a tray of drinks to various patrons around the pool.

I met her over at the bar and said, “Well?  What did you think?”

“I like that the author doesn’t deny Lily Phillips her right to claim her own pleasure, her own fantasy.  I like that he doesn’t say, “She says this, but she must be wrong.”

“And?” I was expecting a critique.

“I also agree with the observation that no man, no matter how virile, can ever get it up enough.”

“I thought you’d like that.  I mean, that was the theme of our second book, More!, after all.”

“But,” she began.

“Ah-ha!  I knew there was a but.”

The bartender returned to his post and asked Lo what she’d like.  Lo got excited.  She stood up from the stool and was now bending over, leaning on the bar, showing her thong-clad butt off to her loyal fans in the pool.

A.I. of Lola by the pool

“Hmmm,” she said, licking her lips, “you have all these specialty cocktails.  I love their whimsical names!”

“I think she’ll need a minute,” I said to the bartender, with a wink.

She was wiggling her butt in anticipation of the fun drinks, like a puppy excited to play.

“So,” I said, bringing her back to the conversation.  “What is the but?”

“Well, I think there are a lot of fantasies – not just two.”

“Fair, but I think he’s talking about a fundamental fantasy.”

“You know,” she said, looking at me now, “even Don Juan wasn’t so simple as people make him out to be.”

“Your point?”

“Well, when he was a young man – I mean, really just a boy – he was sold into slavery and then, when spied by the sex-starved sultana, Gulbeyaz, she had her eunuch buy him for her, dress him up as a harem girl, and sneak him into the sultan’s seraglio for him to please her on the sly.”

“You mean, in Byron’s telling of the tale,” I said.

“Of course Byron!” she responded.

“And your point?” I asked again.

She turned her head over her shoulder and looked at her admirers in the pool.

“Well, maybe Don Juan is a woman’s fantasy, just not the Don Juan who beds all the women.  Maybe the Don Juan who. . .”

“Lo, I think I know where you’re going with this.  You weren’t dreaming of Lily Phillips while reading that article over there,” I nodded to where she had been lying down.  “You were dreaming of MILF Meri’s son.”

“Por qué no los dos?”

“Madam?” asked the bartender.

“I’ll have the Red Headed Slut shot,” said Lo, licking her lips.

“Very good.  And you sir?”

“The Blue Balls shot.”

Meri and son with a bull

Stiff Competition

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Lola didn’t know if she was in trouble, but she was on her way to meet the director of the sperm bank.  She walked down the long hallway, lined with the framed color posters of David Hamilton’s work, and at the end of the hallway she knocked.  “Come in,” she heard a man’s voice say from behind the door.

Art by David Hamilton

Art of making art by David Hamilton

Art by David Hamilton

We shall save for later what transpired behind the director’s closed door after Lola entered it, but for now, let us pick our story up when Lola arrived at the clinic for a third appointment with Terence.

They met in the parking lot, as usual, and Lola was wearing her long white coat, but this time she had a surprise for Terence under it.  Or rather, she had nothing to surprise Terence with under her coat.

Inside the clinic the receptionist again directed them to room #3.  Upon entering, it was Lola who was surprised, for on the walls, in place of the framed posters of Lola’s cream pies, were framed posters of Ellie, the night-shift receptionist who had helped Terence by coaxing his cum out of him (before Lola fulfilled that job) and by reading to him from Match, Cinder & Spark.  Apparently, she found out about the Lola poster substitute and that Terence was “two-timing” her with Lo during the day.  She took liberties and removed Lo’s framed photos, replacing them with her own.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie cumcovered

One poster was a black-and-white of Ellie, nude, spread eagle with cum covering her hairy pussy.  The other was of her on her knees taking one cock in her mouth and two cocks on either side of her as she stroked them off.  You couldn’t see her face in either of those posters, but, just to make sure there was no mistake, there was a framed photo of Ellie in a salmon colored outfit of shorts and an oversized blouse wearing glasses and smiling or almost laughing.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie knows how to please three guys at once

Lola thought, “It’s on.”

“Whoa!” said Terence upon seeing the framed photos.

Ellen Mowbray

“You know her?”

“Um, yeah.  She’s the one who used to help me out.  She works the evening shift.”

Lola began to walk out of the room.

“Hey!  Where are you going?” asked Terence, confused.

“To request another room.”

“Why?”

“I find it rude.”

“Rude?”

“Desperate.”

“Desperate?”

“Thirsty.”

“Thirsty?”

“Is there an echo in here?  Look, she’s clearly still salty about what happened with Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Her ex-boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, you can read all about it on the blog.  She’s just being petty.”

“Maybe she wanted you to see it.  Maybe it’s for your pleasure?”

“You like?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I do.”

“Fine,” said Lo.  “Pull out your pud.”  She was very matter-of-fact.  No seduction, no sensuality, no affection.

Terence, who had been looking forward to this for days, was eager to comply.

Lo then opened her overcoat to reveal she was wearing absolutely nothing under it!

“Ellie ever help you like this?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

Lo put on the latex gloves, lubricated, reached down between his legs and began stroking him.  She leaned forward so that her breasts were dangling tantalizingly in front of his face.  She exaggerated her hand motion so that her heavy breasts wobbled and banged up against one-another.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her heaving mounds.  Lo slowly slid her hand down below the shaft of his cock to his large balls.  She massaged them and fondled them, gently playing with them with her fingertips.  He clearly liked it.  Lo didn’t speak this time.  She just watched his facial expressions.  Her focus went from his face to his crotch and back again.  And again.

She then surreptitiously slid her index finger down below his balls to his perineum.  She used a feather-light touch on it for a while and then cautiously, furtively slid her index finger further south to his anus.

“Are you a top or a bottom when you’re with men?” she asked.

“Switch,” he said in a tense whisper.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

He got up out of the chair.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He complied.

“Bend over,” she said, “and let’s have a full rectal exam.”

He bent over.  She inserted one, then two, then three fingers of her right hand as her left hand reached around and stroked his cock.  He was looking up at the large poster of Ellie on the wall.  Lola was too.  Lo continued her erotic massage, but it wasn’t long before he said, “The cup!  The cup!”

Lo passed him the specimen cup and stroked him as he held the jar in front of his cock and filled it with more of his donation than he ever had before.  His knees buckled and his entire body went tense and spasmed.  He could hardly stand.  He let out multiple calls of Lola’s name.  Then he collapsed back in the chair, his cock still twitching.

He passed the collection cup to Lo who screwed on the lid tightly.

Lo smiled at him as she stood before his depleted body.  The contrast between her tall, strong, lusty, flush and full body standing naked over his weak and limp body couldn’t have been more pronounced.  She removed her gloves and threw them in the special trash bin for contaminated waste.

After he regained some of his vigor, she said, “Now you stand up and let me have the chair.”

He complied.

Lo sat in the chair, put her feet up on it, spreading her legs, and she began making small circular motions over her clit with her right hand.  He watched her intently.  Her movements increased in speed and intensity until she was now rubbing up-and-down in small, rapid strokes.  This technique got more intense still until she was patting and then slapping her wet pussy.  She progressed to inserting one and then two fingers deep in her pussy.  She fingered herself for about a minute until SPLOOSH!  She squirted straight ahead, sprinkling Terence with her holy water.  It was a long, strong, and voluminous stream that soaked him and his clothes.  He didn’t seem to mind.

Ellen Mowbray

Ellie leaving work after a hard day

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie getting off after a hard day at the masturbatorium

Elln Mowbray

Ellie third from right

Fat Fetishizing

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Painting of Lola by Erics Figure Art

[Continued from Feedie for a Night]

It was the Saturday before Halloween.  The night of the party.  Lo had tried on, adjusted, removed, retried, readjusted the Princess Leia costume at least ten times.  She tried manipulating a sash to go across her tum, but that didn’t work.  Not only would it not stay up, it also disguised the costume to the extent that she just looked like a woman from 1001 Nights.  She tried a cape that, if she felt she needed it, she could drape it around her.  She thought that would be a good compromise and she tucked the cape into the collar of the costume.  But it kept falling out.  She tried using a binder clip to affix it, but that was uncomfortable.  In the end she said, “Fine.  Fuck it!”

“That’s what everyone will be saying to you at the party,” I reassured her, “Very fine.  I’ll fuck it.”

“I’m not an it,” she reminded me.

“I know, but I get poetic license for the sake of a pun.”

“Whatever.”

She was in a grouchy mood because, no matter what she did, her round rolls of her tum were prominent.  “It’s like I have three sets of tits,” she complained.

“What?” I asked.

“Here, here, and here,” she said, running her hands over her breasts and then her first roll round the middle of her tum and then her second roll just above her black triangle.

“Lo, but that’s what Mr. Biggs (and I, if I say so myself) find so fucking attractive about you!”

“Fat fetishizing.”

“Darling, if you weren’t fat, I’d fetishize on something else about you.”

“So you’re saying I’m fat!”

“You said it!”

“Grrrrrr.”

BBMPDG Lola

Lo’s phone rang.  It was Mr. Biggs.

“I gotta run!” Lo said to me, darting towards the door.

“No kiss?”

She scuttled back in her brown, strappy heels to give me a peck on the cheek.

“I wish I could go with you,” I said.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” she said with a wink.

“You’ll have fun at your party,” she said.

As it turned out, I had been invited to a party down the street.  Lo said that if the party she was going to with Mr. Biggs was a bust, then she’d join me.  In order to keep with her costume theme, I had bought a Boba Fett outfit, just in case.

Lo was off.  I heard the car pull away from the curb.  For an account of the Hutt’s mistreatment of the Princess, I had to wait until later that night when Lo returned home.  She never did make it to join me at my humdrum Halloween party.

A.I. of Lola and Leia with Darth Vader

It was past three in the morning when I heard the clickity-clop of my princess’s heels on the wooden floor in the hallway.  She took her shoes off there and then silently slipped into the bedroom and into the master bath.  She turned on the light and left the door slightly ajar.  I saw her from the darkness of the bed as she brushed her teeth, still dressed in her costume.  She then sat on the toilet, peed, and came to bed.

“Daddy, are you awake?”

I feigned sleep.  I didn’t want her to think I was so eager.

“Daddy,” she whispered again, closer to my ear.

I grunted.

She reached for my cock under the covers.

“You’re hard,” she whispered with joy in her voice.  She wanted to get laid, I could tell.

I grunted again.

“Stay asleep,” she coaxed, “roll on your back.  Let me use your cock.  I’ll be quick, I promise.”

I rolled on my back.  She pulled my pj bottoms down.  She lowered herself down on my erect shaft slowly.  She was soaking wet.  I slid in easy as could be.

She began bopping up and down, using her index and middle fingers of her right hand to rub circles around her clit.  She was cumming within seconds.  Her moans, groans, and prayers to God were not quiet.  I opened my eyes.  I saw she was still in her princess getup.

“Lola?” I said, as if startled from a dream.

“Shhh, Daddy, I’m almost done.”

“How was your night?” I asked.  I didn’t want her to be done.

“It was good.”

“Good?” I asked.  I was looking for something a bit more descriptive than “good.”

She was posting up-and-down on my cock, revving up for her second orgasm.  Her front teeth were biting down on her lower lip.

“Tell me more,” I implored.

“Grab my tum,” she said.

I did.  It was bouncing up and down and jiggling, just how I like it.

“Am I fat, Daddy?”

Trick question.  Was she in the mood to be fat?  Would saying yes ruin the mood?  I rolled the dice.

“Yes.”

“Fuckable fat?”

“Yes.”

“Freaky fat?”

“Yes.”

She brought herself to an orgasm.  She lifted her pussy up off of my rod to rain her cum down on me and then turn around, reverse cowgirl, and slip right back into the saddle.  I noticed as she did so that she was clean shaven.  When she left the house a few hours ago, she had a hairy bush.

She rode me as I watched her ass rise and fall with stronger and stronger strides down on my cock.  It was as if she needed more, deeper, longer, harder, thicker, fatter.

I could hear her sloppy, wet pussy slapping down and splashing on my hips.  She groaned and growled in rhythm with her own beat.  The sound grew more insistent.  She was reaching, striving for that second (or third?) orgasm, but not quite reaching it.  She pulled forward and turned around on all fours.

“Get behind me!” she insisted, as if there was no time to lose.  “Get in me and fuck me.  Fuck me hard!”

I was on my knees pounding my pelvis into her, slamming her with every ounce of energy I had.  Her head was bouncing forward into the headboard of the bed.  She didn’t care.  The new position wasn’t doing it for her.  She pulled off of me.  She got on her back and slid to the side of the bed with her legs in the air.  The sheets and blankets were soaked by now.

I stood on the side of the bed and held her ankles as I entered her pussy.

“Grab my tits,” she said.  “Pull.”  I pulled her nipples.

“Grab my tum,” she said.  “Slap it.”  I did.  I held it with my fingers like it was dough for kneading.  I slapped it.  I slapped her tits.  She grabbed my right hand and moved it to her cheek.  I knew what she wanted.  I don’t like to do it.  She slowly moved my hand in the motion of what she wanted me to do.  I followed through.  I slapped her, gently at first, across the face.

“Again!” she said.

I slapped her again.

“Harder!”

I slapped her harder.

I did this around ten times.

“Now my pussy,” she said.

I pulled out and slapped her pussy with my palm.

“Harder, faster.”

I gave her pussy about ten hard slaps.

She was frustrated.  She pushed me away.  With her legs in the air, she slapped her own pussy as if punishing it severely.  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  Until she was squirting all over the floor.  She fell backwards and collapsed in the sopping wet bed.  She passed out, leaving me standing over her, hard-up.

I walked away, went to the bathroom, washed up, dried off, and then walked to the living room couch where I went to sleep.

In the next installment – Leia and the Hutt

Protected: Sister Sodomy

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Stoya’s Secret Sexual Rival

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Slate Stoya Lola

Dear Readers:

Perhaps you know that Jessica Stoya, most famously known simply as Stoya, has a new sex and relationships column called “How To Do It.” A while ago Lola submitted to Stoya, that is, she sent in the following query but never received a response. Perhaps you have some suggestions for Lo.

Dear How To Do It:

Not sure if you can answer this question because it might be a conflict of interest for Stoya. You see, my man loves having sex with Stoya. That is, he loves to have sex with the Stoya Fleshlight I bought him as a gift. He and I have an otherwise excellent relationship. He is older than I by about two decades. We have a 1/2 open relationship.  With his enthusiastic consent, I’m allowed to have fun with others – men, women, with or without his presence – but he is not. He is content with that arrangement and he also knows that the reason for the lack of symmetry is because I get jealous and insecure. As a consolation prize, I got him a Stoya Fleshlight, knowing that Stoya is one of his favorite porn stars. But now he frequently asks me to hold the Fleshlight while he goes at it, kissing me but having intercourse with her. This was fine as a novelty once in a while, even if it did make me jealous, but now it’s a more frequent request and I find I’m growing insecure of her/your prosthetic pussy. But I feel conflicted because I will frequently bring myself to orgasm using my Hitachi Magic Wand (next to him or alone) and he has no problem with that. A double-standard? Yes! Can you help me sort out these feelings?

Signed,

Stoya’s Secret Sexual Rival

Lola fingering Stoya

Stoya and Synthetic Stoya

Stoya for Lola

Stoya fingering Stoya

Lola and Mr. Hitachi

He made her cum!

Frankie Gets Fucked

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Lola awoke in a cold sweat and with a hot, soaked puss.

“What is it?” I asked, startled from unconsciousness suddenly.

“I just had the weirdest wet dream.”

“OK,” I said, realizing that there was no returning to sleep now, “tell me about it.”

“Well, you know how you try to make me jealous talking about what’s her name from what’s that show?”

“You’re going to have to be a bit more definite than that.”

“Anyhow, I had the weirdest dream about her.”

She then proceeded to tell me the following.

She was Casey’s babysitter.  Now it was just the two of them, home alone, and she was horny.  She had been fapping to Lola Down and the erotica of mysexlifewithlola.com all night.  She hadn’t slept.  Her sheets were soaked.  She wanted to feel another’s flesh on hers, between hers, deep inside hers.  She wanted that hot white cum.  She wanted to be a slut.  She didn’t want him to think of her as that “older woman,” a cougar, beyond the bounds of propriety.  She wanted to get down and dirty for him.  Shock him.  Shake him out of his innocent naivete about women of a certain age.  About women in general.  About her.  She was a woman – a woman with needs, wants, desires, lusts, and deep, dark, hidden shame, disgust, and revulsion.  “Debase me,” she thought, “and I can rest in my degradation.”

She led Casey to the bathroom where she had up a poster of Lola Down.  She lured him there with a request that he help her “clean the drain.  It’s clogged.”  He followed her, admiring her ass, against his better judgment.  He was ashamed of himself.

She showed him the drain.  It was clogged.  After only a few minutes, they agreed it was time to call a plumber.  He noticed her sex toys strewn around the sink, the bathtub, even next to the toilet.  He didn’t say anything.  He looked around.  She looked at him.  It was awkward.  In order to break the uncomfortable silence, he looked at the poster and said, “Nice.  You?”

 

They looked nothing alike.

“No, it’s Lola Down.  Have you heard of her?”

“No.”

He was shy.

“She likes to fuck.”

“Oh.”

“Do you like to fuck?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Bridgette.  Um.  I. . .”

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, removing her clothes.  She was naked.  She leaned over the sink.

“I guess I’ll get going,” he said, not leaving.

 

“Fuck me,” she said, protruding her ass back toward him.

“What?”

“You heard me.  Fuck me.”

He simply could not believe this was happening.

“Are you a virgin?”

The question took him aback.  Was it an insult?  Was she demeaning his manhood?  He was a virgin, that was for sure.

“I knew it,” she said without a word from him.  “Now’s your chance to change that.  Fuck me.”

He was fumbling to undo his belt and get out of his pants.

She turned around once she saw in the mirror that he had gotten it out, but not gotten hard.  She got on her knees and looked up at him.

“How long have you wanted me to do this?” she said, her lips parted inches away from the tip of his flaccid cock.

“I. . .”  He didn’t know what to say.  He couldn’t deny that he had often masturbated to the thought of her.  When she was babysitting and after he went to bed, he had stroked it thinking about her face or about finding her naked in front of the TV asleep.  Why had he fantasized about that?  Vaguely, as if in a dream, a distant memory rippled across his mind.  He saw her, on the couch.  He had gotten up in the middle of the night.  The TV was on.  People were on the TV.  It looked like they were fighting, wrestling.  They were naked.  Her jeans were down by her knees.  Her hand was between her legs.  She didn’t see him.  He just watched.  He stood silently on the stairs and watched.  She was engrossed in the images on the screen.  He noticed something bulging in his pajama bottoms.  He didn’t know what it was.  A change had come over her.  She pulled her hand out of her crotch.  She sniffed it.  She licked it.  She clicked the TV off.  She pulled her jeans up.  She stood up and walked to the kitchen, away from him.  He went unnoticed.  He returned to bed, feeling guilty and dizzy.  The hard thing in his pajama bottoms wouldn’t go away.

She blew gently onto his detumescent, flagging flesh.  It felt good.  A tickling, caressing breeze.  She put her warm wet lips over that thing.  He knew what this was now.  He was old enough to know.  He never thought it would happen with her.  His babysitter, whom he had fantasized about for so long with pangs of guilt.  The babysitter he had played football with – who tackled him like a boy with laughs and fun.  The babysitter he had cozied up to while eating popcorn and watching “Blue Mountain State” with, against his parent’s wishes while they were gone.  The babysitter who had kissed his bruised knee better, causing a tempest of confused feelings in the pit of his stomach.

She moved her mouth, tongue, lips in ways that made his thing grow.  It grew hard.  She let go and turned around again, facing the mirror.

“Fuck me, Casey,” she insisted.

He moved forward.  She was taller than he.  He needed to stand on his toes to get the right spot.  He couldn’t.  She reached back, impatient, grabbed it, pulled it forward violently.  “Go in!” she demanded.  He went in.  She was wet.

She grabbed something from next to the sink.  It was a dildo.  She covered it with lube of some sort.  She passed it to him.  “Put this in my ass.”

“What?”

“Put this in my ass,” she repeated.

He took the pointy fake penis and pressed it to the spot.  It didn’t go.

She moved her right hand back to the spot.  She inserted one, two, three fingers easily.

“Try again.”

He repeated the gesture.  It went in.

“Hold it there,” she said.

He held it there.

“OK,” she said a little later, “Pull it out.”

He pulled it out.

“Put your dick in my ass.”

These were very elementary instructions, yet they perplexed him.

“Put. Your.  Dick.  In.  My.  Ass.”

He pulled out and put his dick in her ass.

“Harder!”

He tried to go as hard as he could.

“Slap my ass.”

“What?”

“Slap my ass.”

He gave her ass a slight graze with his open palm.

“No, slap it!”

He slapped it.

“Spank it!”

He spanked it.

“Harder.  Fucking harder!”

He was hitting her ass as hard as he could with his open palm.  It scared him.

“Call me a slut.”

“What?”

His repeated questions were frustrating her.

“Call me a slut!”

“Slut?” he meagerly pronounced.

“Call me a SMILF.”

“SMILF?  What’s that?”

“Sitter-Mom I’d Like to Fuck.”

“OK, SMILF.”

“Call me a cunt.”

“You’re, you’re a. . .” he began crying.  She could see it in the mirror.

“Fuck, you’re useless.  I can’t even feel you in my ass.  Pull out.”

He pulled out.

She turned around.  She got on her knees again.  “How small are you?” she said, observing the thin, diminutive member with wonder.  In her haste to fornicate, she hadn’t thought about it much when she had it in her mouth.

She put the toilet seat down.  She grabbed a dildo from the bathtub, ran it under the water of the sink and suction-cupped it to the lid of the toilet.  She eased her ass down on it.

“Pass me that,” she said, indicating another dildo by the sink.

Casey passed it to her.  She took it and inserted it into her pussy.

She had a look of maniacal gratification on her face.

She looked up at him looking at her with wonder.  The wonder years, she thought.

She looked down and saw his cock, erect.  She realized he must be in incredible discomfort.

“You need to cum?”

“What?” he asked again.

“Shut up and come here,” she said, pulling him towards her with her left hand wrapped around his buttocks.

He involuntarily moved forward.  She put his cock in her mouth again, roughly.  Her right hand was manipulating the dildo in her pussy.  Her left hand controlled him from behind.  Her ass slid back-and-forth on the dildo attached to the toilet seat.  In her mind she thought about being a sexy cheerleader, the free-use girl of an orgy, a goddess worshipped.  She thought about Lola Down. . . .

 

She was horny.

“Call me a dirty, disgusting, whore.”

He was silent, looking down at her.

Her left hand moved down toward his ass.  She fingered his ass and slid a finger up inside.

He suddenly ejaculated in her mouth.  The thick, copious cum dribbled out of the corners of her mouth and onto her nipples.

“OK,” she said, “Go.”

“What?”

“Go!”

He pulled up his jeans and left her there on the toilet fucking both her holes.

The next day she called a plumber.  A large, middle aged white man showed up.  He was unattractive.  That suited her just fine.  The more disgusting, the better, she thought to herself.

She led him to the bathroom.  The same bathroom.

He noticed the sex toys, the poster, the toilet seat with the suction cup dildo attached to it.

“Is this the bathroom or the playroom?” he said with a chuckle.

“A little of both,” she said seductively.

Without much more conversation, they were both naked in the tub.  The same tub where it had happened.  The thought of it made her feel disgusting and worthless.  That’s how she wanted to be treated and that’s how men – real men, like the plumber, not like Casey – treated her.

“What do you think?” asked Frankie, looking up eagerly from the pages in her hand.

“That’s your treatment for the next episode?” asked Zach.

“Yeah.  You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So?”

“Well, you’re going to do all that on camera?”

“Yeah.  What?”

“Nothing.”

“What is it?”

“Can I ask a favor?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I be there to watch.”

She laughed and leaned in to kiss him.  “Only if you call me a dirty little whore while I’m getting fucked.”

“Deal.”

“So you like it?”

“I do, but I don’t think you’re going to get the greenlight to make it.”

“Why not?”

“Frankie, there’s too much that is. . .”

“What?”

“Taboo.”

“I have a way of getting to green.”

“Through the redlight district, no doubt.”

“The way involves a few curves and back roads, but I’ll get there.”

 

“A dream within a dream?” I asked.

“More like multiple orgasms within an orgasm.”

“I think you need to call Christopher Nolan.”

“Yeah, we could make a film together and call it MetaPorn.”