Category Archives: fingering
Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper
[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]
In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.
And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.
It was Sunday and it was hot! Hot and humid. There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets. Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before. Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting. I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.
All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.
Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.
I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.
Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.
“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”
“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.
“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”
“I need something to get me up.”
“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.
“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”
“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”
Suddenly we heard a knock.
“What was that?” I asked.
Lo shrugged her shoulders.
Another knock.
“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door. Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.
I opened the door a crack. A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.
“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom. I live across the way, over yonder.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.
“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard. I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great! We’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sure thing ma’am. Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”
I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.
“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”
“Yes. Why not, Daddy?”
“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”
She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.
“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”
After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house. There was a gate around the backyard.
“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.
“It’s the law,” I said. “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”
“Ah, I get it.”
We walked into the enclosed backyard. By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.
There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini. Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?
“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.
“Hi,” they almost grunted back.
“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked. “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”
One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.
“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked. They were in shorts and t-shirts.
“What?”
“Get naked,” she said plainly.
They did as she said. They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.
Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.
She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.
“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.
The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders. His cock was very close to Lo’s face.
During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool. No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”
When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.
“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”
“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.
“Jerk off! Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”
Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her. That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.
She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.
She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.
She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string. Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.
She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.
Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.
First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin. She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.
When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water. The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.
“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”
They all dove in right quick. They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.
“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool. “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.
“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.
“Suit yourself.”
“More than I can say your suiters have on!”
“Huh? Oh. Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.
After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink. They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo. Ain’t that a twist?
Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”
“Clothes? Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice. Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.
“You sure are.”
“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”
“You got that right,” said one of the guys. When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.
One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.
“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie. I’m good at goaltending.”
“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper. And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”
“No balls! Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”
“Call what – baseball bats?”
“Yeah!”
“Again, wrong sport.”
“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”
“Touché!” I called.
The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola. They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.
Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands. It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands. She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.
We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back. The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”
“Hey!” she called.
“What? You’re down.”
“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop? Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.
Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.
“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a penalty.”
“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.
Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.
“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.
“Gatekeeper? I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”
“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet. I’ve been gatekeeping.”
“You want praise for that? It’s COVID times. You know that.”
“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”
“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.
But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.
We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs. It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.
Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it. I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books. So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it? But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down. Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!
Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography. One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff. I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”
To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola. They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.
It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle. The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.
The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up! In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect. The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.
“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window. “Oh shit!” she said.
“What?” asked one of the guys.
“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”
There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.
“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”
The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”
We filled him in. He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob. I was quite worried. All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.
“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.
Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club. It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.
He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.
“Sure,” she said.
“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day. I was just doing my job.”
“I understand.”
Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.
Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.
“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”
“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”
“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”
“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo. “Would you like to see?” She asked, looking over at the empty stage.
“My own personal show?”
“Yeah. Can you put on some music?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Got any Rihanna?”
“Anything you want.”
“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”
Hagrid put it on. As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me? What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.
“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.
“Thanks,” said Lo. “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”
“What happened?”
“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. We’d treat you right.”
“Oh yeah? How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.
Hagrid was unfazed. He works in a strip club.
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can’t get enough
Must be love on the brain.
The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat. Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.
“We treat the girls right. I can assure you of that.”
Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass. Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”
“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo. “My younger sister strips here.”
“What?! No way?”
“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.
“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.
“Why should she?” he asked, naively.
“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I see her naked and more at home.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”
“Really?”
“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”
“You both live with your parents?”
“No, we have an apartment together.”
“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”
“Yeah. Cheaper that way.”
“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”
“All the time. And women.”
“In her room?”
“In her room, with the door open. In the living room. In the kitchen. It doesn’t really matter to her.”
“I’ve got to meet this woman!”
“You already have.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”
“She’s your sister?!”
“Yep.”
Hagrid looked at his phone.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.
“How’s that?”
“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”
“What?! We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man. Double standard? You better believe it.
Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.
Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.
“You!” said the little sister.
“You!” said Lo right back at her. It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp. Who is who? Does it matter?
Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.
The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me. He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.
“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.
“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt. “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”
“Whatever,” said Hagrid.
The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment. It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room. The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly. The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch. The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it. There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.
On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.
“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.
“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna. “He’s a grown man.”
“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.
I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.
“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”
“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.
“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.
“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.
“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here. They know her. They know all about her. To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”
“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig. Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.
“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class. You’re from the city. You’re not from around here.”
“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom. “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”
“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”
“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”
“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.
I played dumb. Lo spread her legs. Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.
She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”
“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.
“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”
“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.
“You can have it,” continued Luna. “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.
“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.
“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.
Luna put out her hand. “A hundred.”
“What?!”
“It will cost you. One Benjamin.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”
“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.
“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”
“I don’t have a hundred.”
“What do you have?”
He pulled out his wallet. He opened it. He looked in. “A twenty.”
Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened. “It’s a deal.”
Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.
Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen. The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.
“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.
“Sure,” I said.
“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.
Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”
“Perfect,” said Lo.
As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations. The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.
“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.
“Pretty much every night she dances.”
“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”
Hagrid laughed a little. “You saw how little she weighs. She barely pulls that weight. All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka. “And drugs.”
“That’s too bad.”
Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early. It’s out of his control.
“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.
“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple. Lo here, she’s. . .”
“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.
“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.
“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.
“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake. The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.
“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat. “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.” It was hot in that shack. No AC.
“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.
Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.
Luna downed it in one gulp. “More,” she said. Was she talking to Lo or Tom?
Lo filled up the glass again.
“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.
She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.
“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo. Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.
“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.
“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.
Luna just gave him her middle finger.
“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder. It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.
“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her. “It’s still in you.”
“Forget the condom. Fuck my ass.”
“I don’t have another one.”
“FUCK. MY. ASS.”
The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.
“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.
“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”
“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”
“ATV or. . . ?”
“We’ll take my pickup truck.”
“Wait!” said Luna. “I want to go with you.”
The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.
“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.
“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.
“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.
“Because, I want to go.”
“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”
Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.
Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.
“Works every time,” said Luna.
“What does?” asked Lo.
“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”
Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth. I couldn’t help but think, “Wow! What a Lola move!”
When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.
Why were all of us in the back seat? Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.
Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap. Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.
“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.
“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.
“Fuck you!” said Luna.
Luna spread her legs. Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass. Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them. She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself. But then she pulled out her hand.
“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom. She tossed it out the window with a laugh.
We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.
“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.
“No problem. Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.
“Will do!”
“Thanks! Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.
“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits. “Stay slutty!”
“You know I will!”
Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.
The End
Tits Out
“Lo, are you watching porn again?” I asked as I noticed her lying on the couch, legs spread, hand cupped in her thigh-gap, her mind keenly absorbed in the screen of her phone.
“No,” she said defiantly.
“Then what are you doing in that provocative position?”
“I happen to be reading an article.”
“Oh yeah? What article?”
“It’s about the pandemic and relationships.”
“I’m curious. Tell me more.”
“Oh, it’s just about how some couples realized that their relationship was in shambles once they were deprived of all the other distractions in life.”
“Hmmm, sounds interesting. What’s it called?”
“I forget the title.”
“But you’re reading it right now. I’d like to read it too. What’s it called?”
“Fine,” she said, as if caught fibbing. “It’s called, ‘First Comes the Pandemic Divorce, Then the Tits Out Summer.’”
“Tits Out Summer, eh?”
“It’s educational.”
“I bet it is.”
“Do you plan on having a ‘Tits Out Summer’ this year?”
“This year, every year: summer, winter, spring, fall – never a bad time for tits out.”
“Take ʼem out now.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
She reached into her shirt and pulled her breasts out over the top.
“You’ll stretch it out that way,” I said.
“Stretch what?”
“Your shirt.”
“Oh, I thought you were talking about something else,” she said as she pulled at her nipples, elongating them.
“Mind if I snap a photo or two? You look divine.”
I pulled out my camera.
“You know,” she said as she posed, “I’ve been called an attention whore for just this sort of exhibitionism.”
“You don’t say. Preposterous.”
“The way I see it, nudes have always been considered fine art. That’s just how I consider myself – a priceless museum quality piece that should be on display in a venue open to the public.”
“You’re a piece alright! Very open to the public.”
“What are you implying?”
“I mean, in our day and age, the internet is the democratization of culture, the dissemination of information, the museum for the masses.”
“Quite,” she said as she pressed her tits together. “And the masses have spoken and I am the embodiment of their collective unconscious vision.”
“Humble too.”
She slid out of her panties and spread her legs.
“I know a photographer who takes photos of naked women,” she remarked.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You should introduce us. We have a lot in common.”
“Not really. That’s just my point.”
“How so?”
“Well, each of her models is ‘perfect’ in a traditional sort of way and therefore eminently forgettable.”
“I see.”
“I, by contrast, am unique in a memorable sort of way.”
“That you are.”
“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?”
I put down the camera and picked up my notepad and a pen.
“Daddy? What are you writing? I asked, do you want to fuck me?”
“You’ve inspired me,” I said as I scratched away at my note before it vanished from my mind.
“Read it to me,” she said when I put the pad down. She simultaneously picked up her two plungers — pink and blue (“pink for pussy, blue for bum”) and attached them to the bed’s headboard.
“Are you going to engage in double penetration?”
“That’s the objective,” she said, sliding back on the ribbed handles.
“Adventurous.”
“I like to think that I’m open to adventure. Will you read to me?”
I read from the notebook: “The most beautiful thing in the world cannot be seen, touched, or apprehended by the senses. It can only be approached by the mind, felt by the soul, and embraced deep within the heart. It nourishes the imagination and quickens thought. It is the noumenal trace behind the phenomenal appearance of the nymphomaniac, the sexually confident woman, the eternal feminine open to receive, willing to give, abundantly generous, her glory simultaneously concealing and revealing, her naked resplendence overwhelming thought through her appearance, yet shrouding her in mystery that tantalizes because always unattainable.”
“How Platonic,” she remarked, “and therefore, disappointingly sterile. Don’t you want to have me? Don’t you want to approach my body, feel my tits, and embrace me deep within my cunt? Though I adore your words and ideas, right now I just want you to fuck me.”
Her withering criticism of my inspired panegyric to her dissuaded me from continuing. If I wanted to praise her, I had to do it apart from words and phrases. I had to express my love, preferably through my second most penetrating and pleasing organ.
She pulled forward from the headboard, surprising both herself and me as the plungers remained in her holes and became dislodged from the surface where they had been affixed with a sudden pop! noise. She looked like an animal that had been shot twice with large darts in the aft. She reached back, pulled the plungers out and lay flat on her back on the bed, playing dead, but for both her hands fidgeting with her pussy as her legs were spread. She resembled human Mercedes sign.
“I think I’m comprehending your needs,” I said as I removed my clothes.
“Sometimes you’re a genius.”
“My dear, I’m always a genius. Sometimes I do stupid things.”
“I think it’s the other way around.”
I got between her legs and berated her as she bore the full brunt of my blunt instrument.
“The two brothers aren’t enough, slut? The three brothers and their father couldn’t satisfy your hunger for humiliation? MILF Meri didn’t cure your craving for cunt?”
She just spread her legs further and took my meat and degradation with stoic equanimity.
For me, at that moment, she was the axis mundi. Not the world navel, but the hole at the center of the world through which all things emerge in their creation and return in their destruction.
Her hole was wide, taking and giving, full of fluid and overflowing. There was a sloshing and splashing as she climaxed, after which she simply said, “And now in my ass, Daddy.”
I pulled out, flipped her over, and slid into her second axis mundi; antipode to the first, the demonic inversion of the fecund orifice.
In one fell swoop I securely conjoined with her and I felt as she gripped my member with intensity.
She cried out in pain, “Now you’ve gone too far!”
“You can’t know where too far is until you get there.”
“You’re hurting me,” she pleaded.
I pulled back, relenting.
“I didn’t say stop,” she called over her shoulder.
I rammed her repeatedly from the rear until her rhythmic response of “oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” transformed into a repeating release of “ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”
She could tell I was rapidly approaching the point of no return and so she lunged forward, and with a catlike quickness, pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, opening her mouth and taking my instrument of impalement deep into the back of her throat.
Instinctively, I pulled back, grabbed my manhood with my right hand, and let spew forth all of my liquid love for Lola.
She looked up at me as I painted her face the color of pearl and she said, “I only feel right on my knees, Daddy.”
I spread my legs wide and she got between them, snuggling into my thighs, and licked from balls to tip. She looked up at me and asked, “Did you like fucking my ass?”
Unable to respond, I put my hands through her thick mane and pressed her face close to my throbbing thermometer.
She opened her mouth and took it in, performing her practice of “cockwarming” as I slowly drifted off to sleep.
Polyglot
“That’s one thick slick dick!” she said.
“Lo, I’m in my pajamas and I’m not even hard,” I replied.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, not picking up on my sarcasm. “Look,” she said, holding her phone to my face so I could see the surprisingly serpentine appendage which had provoked her initial comment.
“An admirer?” I half stated, half asked.
“This whole COVID quarantine thing has been crappy, but it has also produced some unexpected yet pleasant surprises. I’ve never felt so connected to my fanbase as I do now.”
“Not connected enough, it seems,” I added, under my breath.
“Well, it’s true that I’ve been getting off to them, but the relationship is reciprocal. I’ve heard from guys, wives, husbands, single girls, older folks who live alone, even one coed who had to move back from college to live with her parents and was so horny that hearing her parents going at it in their bedroom turned her on.”
“Luckily she had you to turn to,” I said.
I don’t think she heard me. She was indulging her natural need for self-copulation under the sheets.
“And don’t forget your sister,” I added.
She came.
“Is that the whole shebang?” I asked, wondering if she had any desire left for me. You know, her ole man lying there next to her, in the flesh, ready, willing and able to gratify her every lustful whim.
“That’s the hole shebangs,” she quipped, slapping her puss. I could hear how very wet she was.
“The hole who bangs?”
“Anyone and everyone.”
“How about this one?!” I asked, thumb pointing to my chest.
“You want me, Daddy?”
“How did you guess?”
“Then have me,” she said, holding her phone in one hand, spreading her legs as she lay missionary position on the bed, allowing me to enter her.
“Are you seriously texting while I fuck you?” I asked when she raised her other hand to the phone and was going at it with her thumbs.
“Does it bother you?”
“I’d like maybe ten percent of your attention.”
“You have one hundred percent of my pussy. Go to town.”
I didn’t stop going to Lola Down town, but I was frustrated.
“Who the hell are you writing to?”
“I have a following to satisfy, you know.”
“When you look behind you to see your following, I’m the first in line!”
She didn’t respond. She was engrossed in her text exchange.
“Are you at least sexting? – telling someone about how amazing I am in bed?”
“Yeah,” she said, unconvincingly.
“Tell the truth, Lo.”
“Well, I was actually telling a couple how sexy they are when they mutually get off to my pics.”
In my head I heard the lyrics, “Cause if you like the way you look that much, oh, baby, you should go love yourself.” But loving herself (or fucking herself) was exactly what she had been doing next to me for the past hour or so. I wanted her to respond to me.
“How about you tell me something?” I requested, not politely.
Again, she didn’t hear me. She was texting.
I pulled out.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as if I had just splashed ice water on her.
“I’m stopping.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re not into it.”
“I was into it. I was into you being in me.”
“I’m a whole person, not just a penis.”
“And I’m a hole for your penis. Put it in me.”
“Put down the phone.”
I was on my knees, looking down at her as her legs were spread with her knees on each side of me. She could see my cock dripping with her juices.
“Please, Daddy,” she whined. “Please fuck me.”
“Not until you put down the phone.”
“But it enhances the experience for me. Come on,” she said, reaching down between my legs and fondling my testicles, feeling how soaked they were. “You know you want it. I can feel how full you are. Just use me. Fill me up. Fuck me. Get your rocks off. Cum inside me.”
I couldn’t resist her voice, though I knew I should. I entered her again.
“That’s it, Daddy. Use your little girl. Drill that dirty whore.” She was saying the words as if reading a script. Her eyes were glued to her phone screen. She was typing again with her thumbs. “Yeah, Daddy. That’s it. Feels good, right?”
Speaking words to me, typing different words to some virtual lover. She was a polyglot.
I finally let myself go. I didn’t care anymore. I released my full load deep inside her. She held me for one second with one hand, pressing it to my back, and then was back at it – typing away.
I pulled out with a sploosh and she rolled onto her tum, her legs dangling in the air, her feet touching at the toes, her pussy dribbling my ejaculate out slowly.
She pulled her right hand away from the phone just long enough to rub it between her legs and then lick some of the cum off her fingers.
“I love you, Lo,” I said as I rolled over to go to sleep.
“You too, Daddio.”
Sex Drive
Our first date flopped. Cooped up since March due to COVID, Lo was complaining that she hadn’t been on a date in “forever.”
“What about the brothers? Don’t they count?” I asked, referring to the two boys from across the street who had been making regular house calls to Lo’s bedroom to unload their pent-up pandemic sexual frustration with the help of Lola’s pussy.
“Those aren’t dates, Daddy. Those are booty calls. Pity fucks. Besides, they’re so young and inexperienced that there isn’t even sexual tension buildup. It’s all just ram-and-release.”
“You seem to like it.”
“Oh, I love it, for what it is.”
“So, what is it you want?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“My only wish is to please you.”
“That’s good because my only wish is to be pleased. I want to go on a proper date.”
“So Meri also doesn’t count?”
“Well, she did count, but we dated before COVID.”
“I assume I don’t count.”
“Oh Daddio, you do count. You count the number of men and women I fuck.”
“I can’t count that high.”
“I’ll buy you an abacus.”
“Is that the thing with the beads on it?”
“Yes.”
“That you put in your ass?”
“No. That’s a different thing.”
“Oh.”
“I want to go on a date with a couple.”
“A couple?”
“Yeah, a married couple.”
“You have anybody in mind.”
“Daddy, I always have many bodies in mind.”
“Any particular bodies for your date?”
“Yes. There’s a married couple that is trying to get the ole flame flickering again.”
“Let me guess, you think that you can help his wick to grow.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Where’d you find this couple?”
“They found me.”
“Not another ad!”
“No, Daddy. They have been reading the blog.”
“What are their names?”
“Ron and Nicole. She’s a schoolteacher. He’s a lawncare person.”
“Interesting. And how are you going to go on a ‘date’ in COVID?”
“We. We are going on a date. You and me with them.”
“Again, how?”
“Do you like drive-in movies?”
“Haven’t been to one in ages. Why?”
“Well, it will be like a drive-in.”
“How so?”
“We’ve picked a place to meet and they’ll go in their car and we’ll go in ours.”
“And?”
“That’s it. We’ll see where we go from there.”
We pulled up in the vacant parking lot. It was cold out for November. Ron and Nicole pulled up to our right in a late model Cadillac. Ron rolled down his window. Lola rolled down hers. They smiled at each other.
“Hi Lola,” called Nicole from the passenger seat.
“Hi Nicole,” responded Lola. I waved, foolishly, and smiled politely.
We could see our breath as the winterlike air flowed into the cabin.
My car has bucket seats. Lo and I couldn’t physically be right next to each other.
Their car had a bench front seat. Nicole slid over to Ron. They were in their early to mid-forties, I’d say. She was pretty. He was smaller in frame than I had imagined. They were clearly there to see Lo perform.
Lola stripped naked in the car, but with the windows rolled up, soon the glass was covered in condensation. Ron and Nicole couldn’t see anything. The more Lo tried, the more foggy the windows got.
Lo rolled down the window, which had the benefit of allowing Ron and Nicole to see her and to make her nipples very hard. But they could only see so much.
Lo opened the car door to expose below her chest. She swiveled and spread her legs, putting her feet up on the seat and fapping her wet pussy. The couple in the car next to us seemed to enjoy the show, but even I was cold, so I can imagine how chilly Lo’s hairless crotch must have been!
I could see that Nicole had Ron’s cock in her right hand and was stroking it as Lo stroked herself.
That didn’t last long. Lo was shivering. The cold air on her nipples made them hard. The downdraft on her bare pussy gave it goosebumps. Pretty to look at, but no amount of caressing, slapping, or fingering could dispel the chill.
After about a half-hour of trying, we called it off and said we’d try again another time.
On the ride home, the heat blasting, I put on Poe’s “Hey Pretty.” The seductive lyrics sang:
Hey pretty
Don’t you want to take a ride with me?
Through my world
Lo leaned over and said, “Can I just be your cock-warmer?”
“Cock-warmer? What is that?”
“You just let your cock rest in my mouth.”
“We both know that there’s no ‘just’ with you. Especially after this.”
“I’ll tell you what, you drive and I’ll give you the longest unzipping of your life.”
But just then our little late night drive took a strange turn.
We had just got home and I could tell by the look in her eye she was up to no good.
She walked in the front door wearing that little strumpet outfit she had put on for her audience and, not getting to give the show she had planned for them, she was ready to perform for me. A bad, naughty little performance for a packed house of one.
She pranced into the living room in her heels, black leather skirt, no panties, leather jacket, sheer blouse beneath revealing her hard nipples. She turned on the music: Machine Gun Kelly, “Bad Things.” It was as if she had been waiting her turn in the strip club and the DJ finally got around to her set list.
The blinds were all open as she did her little COVID Cabaret.
“Did you like seeing me in the car tonight, Daddy?”
“I did,” I said as I sat down on the couch to watch her.
“What did you like about it?”
“Your willingness to make a couple happy. I always say your generous nature is your best quality.”
“I have a lot of good qualities.”
“True.”
“And a lot of bad thoughts.”
“Do tell.”
“If you only knew the bad things I like,” she sang along with the song.
She lifted her skirt above her ass as she bent over by the window.
“Well, Daddy, are you going to give it to me?”
I stood up and came close to her. I began undoing my pants, but she stopped me.
“No,” she said, “your belt. Give it to me.”
“Punishment?”
“Yes.”
She assumed the position, bracing for it.
I pulled out my long black leather belt, bent it in half, grabbed both ends in one hand and gently let it fall upon her flesh.
“Oh, come on,” she mocked. “Harder.”
“I gave her a mild whack.
“Harder. Wasn’t I bad Daddy? Wasn’t it wrong of me to arrange this COVID dogging session?”
I gave her a strong spank with the strap. It made a clear cracking on her ass. Her body convulsed as if she was surprised by it. Then she said, “Yesss, that’s it.”
I gave her another.
We hadn’t engaged in this sort of play for a long time.
“You were bad,” I said, reflecting upon it. “Dressed scantily in public like that. Like a little skank.”
“That’s right.”
I gave her a harder smack. I could see the outline of the belt in a red line left on her skin, even in the dim light.
“Again.”
I gave it to her again.
“Harder.”
She got another harder.
“I wish that the three of you could be doing this to me. You, Ron, Nicole.”
I gave her another WHACK!
“I wish I was tied to a pole naked (except my heels of course) and each of you had a strap to take turns on my body.”
“Why?” I asked as I inflicted another, harder lick of the leather.
“Cause I can take it. Cause I like it.”
“Why?”
WHAP!
“Because I deserve it.”
SMACK!
“Because I’m so, so bad.”
I gave her one last, forceful spank with the belt before she said our safe word. She turned around. There were tears in her eyes. She reached out her arms and hugged me. She wrapped her legs around mine. She was holding on for dear life.
“I hate this pandemic!” she said, weeping.
She slowly descended, her body crumpling around my legs. She was on the floor, hugging my shins, crying, weeping, naked.
“Come,” I said, helping her up. “Let me apply some aftercare.”
I led her to the bedroom where I gently laid her out on the bed, face down. I went into the bathroom and got out the baby oil. I puddled some in my palm, rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and gently caressed it over her glowing red ass, sore from the spanking she received.
“Owweeemmmmmm,” she purred, her cry of pain turning to a hum of pleasure.
I made small gentle circles with my palms on her ass cheeks. I slid my fingers between her ass cleavage. I ran my fingertips up and down her crotch gently. I revolved my index finger around her special spot, slowly descending into it, one knuckle at a time until fully submerged. She moaned with pleasure. In-and-out I went, first with one finger then with two. I curled them and fingered her ass much the way I would finger her pussy.
Her body mimicked the motions of an inchworm, rising in the middle and then descending. Up-and-down. Faster my fingers slip-sliding in-and-out, until she said, “There! Stay. Deep. Hold it!” She came. I could see her pussy juices dribbling down her thighs. Her ass clenched up on my fingers. Her body was motionless for a moment before the waves of involuntary convulsions shuttered across the surface from feet to shoulders.
Her sphincter released and I slid my fingers out with ease.
To my shock she was asleep.
I was hard, but happy. My deepest desire is to please her.
Abstract
I was sitting up in bed, my glasses on, reading silently.
She was next to me, naked, legs spread, knees up in the air. Her position reminded me of a frog stuck on its back, its vulnerable underbelly exposed. Not a flattering juxtaposition, but that’s what went through my mind as I looked at her, caressing her spread, dewy pussy with her right hand, her left squeezing her left breast and then her right. She was clearly trying to give herself the love and attention she wasn’t receiving from me. Filling her pussy with her three fingers, pinching and pulling her nipples, rubbing her hand over her tum, licking her fingers. Moaning.
“Don’t you ever tire of reading?” she finally asked, pouting.
“Don’t you ever tire of fucking yourself silly?” I retorted.
“Say what you will, I am a damn good fuck. Better than most.”
“Present company excluded,” I added.
“I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”
She was trying to get my ire up, or something up.
“What are you reading, anyhow?” she asked out of frustration.
“An abstract.”
“What?”
“An abstract.”
“Is that the title of the book?”
“No, but that would make a good title,” I said, pulling out my little notebook and writing the thought down.
“Oh no, now you’re reading and writing!”
“An abstract is a summary of the contents of a book, a paper, a dissertation.”
“Then why don’t they call it a summary?”
“I don’t know. I don’t make the rules.”
“Well, is that abstract so good that you wouldn’t have the full-color, complete package, right here in-the-flesh?”
“Darling. . .”
“You prefer the abstract over the real?”
“I. . .”
“Philosophers should come with a warning label!”
“And what, prey tell, would that warning be?”
“WARNING: Prefers to contemplate own navel over contemplating your anus!”
“You want me to contemplate your anus?”
“No, never mind. I can do it myself,” she said, putting her knees behind her head and curving her torso forward while simultaneously grabbing her butt cheeks with her hands and pushing her ass toward her face.
“Nice parlor trick,” I said. “You’ve been doing yoga while I’m at work?”
“No, I’ve been contemplating my anus.”
“And what have you discovered with all that contemplation?”
“That it is eminently fuckable and sublimely beautiful.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“May I fuck it?”
“Do you want it for real, or merely abstractly?”
“You know, there’s a branch of mathematics that is strictly theoretical.”
“Is there?”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s that have to do with my ass?”
“I’m merely pointing out that even something as grounded and concrete as math can exist on a fictional plane. People think that there is nothing more basic than one-plus-one equals two, that these numbers are based in empirical facts like stones or sticks. But even the number one and the number two are abstractions.”
“I’m interested in making one and one equal one.”
It took me a while to understand her mathematical metaphor.
She was still twisted in her pretzel shape.
“Can you lick it?” I asked.
“I’m working on it since at this rate, it’s the only cunnilingus I’m going to get.”
“You remind me of the ouroboros now.”
“What is that?”
“It is the image of a snake eating its own tail. It became the symbol for infinity because it never ends.”
“Appropriately symbolic, for you never stop talking and start fucking.”
“And your desire is infinite.”
“Everyone’s desire is infinite.”
“I’m afraid you are generalizing from the specific. Quite the no-no in logic.”
“Do you want my ass, or don’t you?” she asked impatiently.
“If you’re offering it, then sure I do!”
She released from the yoganidrasana pose. “Well, you’ll have to use your imagination because that’s something you’re only going to experience on a fictional plane.”
“But. . .”
“Imagine it vividly and then you can write all about it.”
“But Lo, you know that I’m not a fiction writer. Our readers expect accounts of my sex life with Lola!”
“What sex life? It’s more like Lola’s sex life with Lola as H.H. exists on the astral plane.”
“Have you ever had sex in the astral plane?”
“No, I’ve had cocks in my ass and it felt divine. And I’ve had sex on a plane (with myself). Maybe one day I’ll have anal sex on a plane and be transported to that heavenly realm again.”
“The astral plane?”
“No, the anal orgasm.”
“I’ll take you there.”
“To hell you will. I want you in my cunt.”
“Why won’t you give me your ass?”
“Because you simply don’t deserve it. Make me cum in my cunt and then we’ll see if you graduate to the advanced class. If you can get it up for one, you can get it up for the other.”
“Isn’t it more like, if you can get it up for two?”
“You know what I mean. Do you want to spend our time in bed discussing nomenclature and numbers, or do you want to ram your cock hard in my cunt?”
“You wax poetic when you’re horny, you know that?”
She was done with language and she reached down to grab my member. I was very hard by this point.
“Looks like you are ready to give me what I want. I know how to excite you.”
“Your intellectual conversation of theoretical planes of existence was a real turn-on.”
“I bet it was, now get behind me and show me how deeply you love me.”
She rolled onto her tum and put her ass in the air. I mounted her from behind and pulled her hair. She instantly gushed like an overripe fruit, sensitive to the touch.
“Yeah, Daddio, that’s it.”
I delved deep inside her. I could feel the tip of my rod touching the target, tantalizing and teasing that tender tuft of nerves that turns on the tap, unleashing a torrent.
Within mere seconds, she was flooding the bed with her happiness.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she repeated again and again, grasping the sheets and holding on for dear life.
I don’t mean to give myself much credit for any special sexual talent. It really wasn’t very difficult. She was primed and ready before I even penetrated her. The time it took to bring her to climax was approximately half the time of our conversation about it.
When she had recovered her senses, she looked over at me and smiled.
I picked up my book again and said, “I’m glad I could please you darling. Had I known it would only be a matter of a moment, I wouldn’t have protested so much.”
She simply said, “It was the talk about abstractions that turned me on. You know I’m a sapiosexual.”
“Indeed,” I replied.
“What’s the abstract about, anyhow?”
“Abstract art.”
“Of course it is.”
Sticky Fingers
“MmmmmHmmmm. . . Yeah. . . That’s right. Yesssss.”
These are the words I heard Lo saying as I walked in the door for lunch. I turned the corner and entered the living room where I saw Lo at her makeshift home office desk in front of the open window that looks out onto the street from our apartment. She was business on top, naked on bottom. Her legs were spread. She had a small oscillating personal fan on the floor under her desk blowing on her bare mons Veneris. She held her phone with her left hand and was stroking her air-cooled puss with her right. There was a small puddle on the hard wood floor beneath her task chair.
She looked over her shoulder at me and interrupted her self-pleasure just long enough to communicate to me in primitive sign language that the computer screen in front of her, on her desk, was on for a Zoom call with work. She covered up the speaker of her phone and whispered, “It’s on mute.”
“You sure about that?” I asked.
She gave me the finger before going back to finger herself.
“MmmmmHmmmm. Yeah, I’m here. Yeah. Tell me again what you are doing.”
I walked away from the sight and left her to her own coping strategy for remote work.
I was on a mission: Lunch.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed some bread, lettuce, tomato, and. . .
“FUUUUUKKK!”
I dropped everything. Startled for a moment that Lo fell off her chair or that she lost all her work on her computer, I stopped cold in my tracks. Then I quickly recalled what she was up to in the living room.
I walked in to find Lo in the same spot, larger puddle under chair, phone hung up, and her panting.
I looked out the windows onto the street and there definitely were people looking into the building trying to ascertain the source of the alarming scream.
“Lo,” I began to rebuke her.
“Get me a paper towel, a mop, something!”
I returned with a whole roll of paper towels.
“Can you clean it up?” she asked.
“What?”
“Can you clean it up? Just stay out of sight of the camera. I’m still on this Zoom call for work.”
“Multitasking?”
“Yeah, I’m very talented.”
I surreptitiously got on my hands and knees and cleaned up the mess under her chair.
“This is all from you?” I asked, incredulous.
“Well, I started with an ice cube on my puss, then in my puss. But it melted. The rest, yeah. An artesian spring.”
“Maybe we should bottle that stuff. We could make more money than San Pellegrino.”
“Shhhh, I have to unmute.”
She clicked a button and then said, “Yes,” in a very professional voice – so different than the voice she was using with her paramour. “I think that sounds good,” she said to some pixilated person in the ether.
I took the wet towels and left Lo to her work.
As I sat eating my sandwich and drinking a cold beverage, Lo sauntered into the room, still pantless.
“Thanks Daddio,” she said, sitting across from me.
I grunted and continued to chew.
She could tell I was displeased with what I found. She tried to explain it away. “It’s just so hot in here. I don’t have central air like you at your office. I had to improvise. The fan and the ice cube helped.”
“And your phone-a-friend?”
“Well, that Zoom call was just so long and boring!”
“It’s called ‘work,’ Lo. Not every moment of every day is filled with magic pixie dust and populated with penises for your own personal pleasure party.”
“Oh, but why not?” she asked in her little girl voice.
“Who was on the call?”
“Who do you think?”
“Robert.”
“Nope.”
“One of the brothers.”
“Nope.”
“Both of the brothers.”
“Wrong again.”
“MILF Meri.”
“Getting warmer.”
“I’m out of guesses and I’m almost out of time and patience.”
“Oh, you’re no fun! It was Scott.”
“Scott?! MILF Meri’s husband?”
“One and the same.”
“You called him or he called you?”
“Neither.”
“Someone called somebody.”
“Well, he sent me an email and asked if I could talk.”
“Did you talk or did you listen?”
“A little of both, Daddio. You wanna know what was said?”
“I know what you’re up to and I’m going to tell you, I have to get back to work. No hanky-panky.”
“You use the oddest, oldest phrases.”
“I’m odd and old, so I can get away with it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait anyhow. I have to hop on another Zoom call.”
“You going to put on your pants?”
“What’s the matter, don’t you think work on top, party on the bottom is home-office appropriate?”
“Is this call for work, or are you sex-camming with an admirer?”
“I told you, I don’t do that anymore.”
“Well, the times, they are a changing.”
“Would you like it if I went back to it?”
“I’ve told you, Lo, you’re free to do whom or what you want whenever you want.”
“I know, Daddio, but I like to hear you say you want me to.”
“Would you do it?” I asked.
“Oh, gotta dash!” she said, returning to her makeshift desk.
She sat back down and I let myself out of the house to return to work without interrupting her work or pleasure call.
I wasn’t back at the office for more than ten minutes before I got a frantic call from her. “Daddy, Daddy!”
“What’s the matter Lo?”
“I need you!”
“Is this a mid-day booty call? Because I just. . .”
“No,” she interrupted, “come home right away!”
I returned to the house as quickly as I could and I found Lo on the living room couch, her panties around her ankles, her right hand on her pussy.
“Lo,” I said, suspiciously. “What’s this all about?”
“I’m stuck.”
“What?”
“I’m stuck.”
“How’s that?”
“I accidentally broke the handle off of my favorite teacup and I was trying to fix it with superglue.”
At that moment I noticed the cup and the superglue tube on the coffee table in front of her.
“And?”
“And somehow my index finger got stuck to my clit!”
“Somehow?”
“This is not the time to tease.”
“I’m not teasing. I just don’t know how that’s possible.”
“It’s very possible.”
“Only if your diddling the bean while engaged in a repair job. Were you diddling the bean?”
“That’s not the right question now.”
“Seems like a very pertinent question.”
“The question is how I unstick myself.”
“Maybe I should just let you stay stuck.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she growled, anger in her eyes.
“I might.”
“Grrrrr!”
“I might even invite the neighbors over. Maybe I’ll charge five dollars admission. ‘See the nympho who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar!’” I feigned being a circus barker.
“You’re mean and cruel. I don’t know why I love you.”
“You love me because I’m mean and cruel and I’m the only person on this planet who puts up with your hijinks.”
“What are you going to do about this?” she asked, indicating her sticky situation.
“Let me look up home remedies for girls who superglue their fingers to their clit.” I pulled out my computer and added, “Or maybe I should post on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram and ask the hivemind what they think.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Woudn’t I?”
I Googled it.
“Do you have nail polish remover?”
“Why?”
“It says to soak a cotton ball in nail polish remover and apply to the stuck spot.”
“DON’T YOU DARE apply nail polish remover to my clit!!!”
“No?”
“NO!!!”
“OK. Let me look up other remedies.”
I continued searching. “Ah-ha! You’re in luck!”
“What’s it say?”
“There are two mildly erotic ways we can go about undoing your masturbatory mess.”
“I wasn’t masturbating!”
“Of course you weren’t.”
“What’s it say?”
“We could either soak you in a nice warm bath with some soap.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Or, apply some vegetable oil to the affected area.”
“Hmmmm, that could be fun too!”
“Let’s do a little of both.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Follow me.”
I led her to the bathroom and got her in the empty bath.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed some vegie oil and returned to her, dripping it on her hand and pussy, soaking both.
Then I turned on the warm water and let it fill up the bath. It only took a few minutes before she was unstuck. I poured more oil over her pussy and slid my fingers over her clit.
“Is this where you were stuck?”
“Yes Daddy.”
“How’s that feel?”
“Good Daddy.”
I slid in a finger. Then another. Then three. Then four. Then my thumb as well. They all slipped right in without resistance.
Lo moaned.
“What were you doing?”
“When, Daddy?”
“When you got so attached to yourself.”
“I did it unconsciously. I didn’t even know I was touching myself. I swear.”
She reached down and pushed my hand from the wrist. In it slipped, a full fist inside her pussy.
“Yeah, Daddy. That’s it.”
The water was up around her ankles. She slowly stood up in the bath and bent over, keeping me inside her the whole time.
“Put your other hand in,” she said.
I slowly wedged my left hand in until it was clasped with my right hand inside her pussy.
“Have you ever been double-fisted before?”
“Noooooooo,” she said, cooing.
Her hips were rhythmically rocking forward and back, humping my two hands until she came. I felt her Kegel muscles clench, but, unlike when my cock is in her, she couldn’t possibly squeeze my hands out with her orgasm. I waited until she was good and done before I slid them out slowly.
“That was fun,” she said, sitting down in the bath, putting her legs up on the wall, letting the water splash down on her pussy.
“You may go now,” she said dismissively as she let the waterfall bring her to another climax.
I didn’t leave though. I dropped my pants and did what she always longs for me to do. I stroked my cock, using the vegetable oil as a lubricant. I stroked it over her naked body as she let the water run over her clit.
“You know,” I said, “Cleopatra used to bathe in a bath filled by her slaves with semen.”
“You’re so hot,” she said.
“I bet you’d like to have enough men surrounding you, stroking to the sight of your naked body, to fill your bath with their warm, pearly cum.”
“You know me too well, but right now, if you’d give me just enough for a nice facial, I’d be a happy girl.”
I needed no further encouragement. I provided the beauty cream she requested and she, in turn, reached orgasm #3.
“There’s nothing like learning history while masturbating,” she said.
“I hate to break it to you, but that story of Cleopatra is an urban myth.”
“Really?!”
“Sad, but true. Its origins are unknown.”
“Hmm,” she said, pensively.
“What?”
“I wonder if two thousand years from now stories about me will make a loving couple orgasm together.”
“If the reports of your contemporaries are any indication, then, yes, it’s very likely.”
“Good. Maybe they’ll report that you were able to fill up the tub with your semen single handedly just by looking at my face.”
“It sure feels that way.”
“I’m sure it does, to you anyhow.”
10 Yoga Poses
[We offer here a sneak peek at the article just released in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, September 2020 Issue. Here is ENM’s editor’s introduction to the story:
Hermann Humbert, writer for www.mysexlifewithlola.com and husband to beautiful hotwife Lola Down has been contributing stories about Lola’s exploits with us for months… this one may be the hottest one yet!!! You can read this story in its entirety right now in our September issue of ENM Magazine on Kindle, or we will publish it as a Patreon exclusive later this month.
Illustrations by H.H.]
Ten Yoga Poses
Dear Reader, you may recall that Roy and Gary are the young, twenty-something brothers from across the street with whom Lo has become acquainted back before COVID-19 shuttered us all in. She seems to enjoy toying with them the way one might with two adorable puppies. One day, not long ago, as things began reopening, she amused herself by going on a date with them to do some clothes shopping.
They went to a nearby mall and they followed her as she bounced from store to store trying on skirts, blouses, dresses, and shoes. She would make them wait close to the dressing room to render an opinion for her. Unless it was two thumbs up, or rather, four thumbs up and two cocks up, she didn’t make a purchase. This scratched two itches for Lo: 1) flirting in the flesh and; 2) shopping.
This little tease titillated her and the boys for hours.
She told me all about it, eager to arouse my jealousy, when I got home from work, but she was let down when she realized that I was quite pleased with her excursion because it saved me countless hours of waiting by the dressing room for her to toggle back and forth between her natural impulse to purchase and her attempt to avoid buyer’s remorse.
“I bet you’d like to see me toggling back and forth between Roy’s dick and Gary’s,” she said, latching onto that word which placed the naughty image in her dirty mind.
“If it makes you happy,” I said, appearing aloof and disinterested in her foolish frolics.
She stomped her foot out of frustration and beat her fists on my chest, playfully.
“You will change your tune!” she said.
“My tune? What will be my tune?”
“I Want You.”
“You do? I thought you wanted your two boy-toys.”
“No, silly. I Want You, by the Beatles. That will be your tune.”
“You know, the subtitle to that song is, ‘She’s so Heavy’”
She flipped me the bird and said, “Of course you would know that.”
“But I think you’re just right.”
“So do the boys,” she added. “Finally, a package deal: FOBO.”
“What is ‘FOBO’?”
“Fuck one, blow one.”
“I see. And here I thought you just liked the company while you shopped.”
“I do!” she said enthusiastically. “And I got this,” she said as she pranced around the room like an exotic dancer on stage.
“What?” I asked, befuddled.
“These,” she said, prancing around some more, her hands on her hips.
“Your hips?”
“No, silly. These jeans. They’re $250 jeans, but you’d never guess what I got them for.”
“You blew a kiss to the shop clerk.”
“No. Don’t be daft.”
“You blew the shop clerk.”
“If only. But he was clearly not into my type.”
“Slutty?”
“I’m offended.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I meant, horny with a young man on each arm.”
“No. He wasn’t into women at all.”
“I see.”
“Don’t you want to know what I got them for?”
“Who, the two young men?”
“No! The jeans.”
“Oh, right. What did you get them for?”
“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is what I’ll get out of them for.”
“What will you get out of them for?”
“The two brothers. They’re coming over.”
As she said that, there was a knock at the door. I answered it and let in Roy and Gary, not knowing who was who. Once they were in, Lo blurted out, “They say I need some caulk.”
“What?”
“Yeah, a lot of caulk.”
“Really?”
“Yes, to fill all the holes.”
“How’s that?”
“They just stick it in there and out it comes. Voila! There might be some overflow, but we can just wipe that up.”
“Sounds like you know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I’ve handled caulk before.”
“You have?”
“Oh yeah. Lot’s of times. I’m practically a pro with caulk.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. One hand. Even two!”
During this whole performance, the boys just stood around and looked on dumbly.
“Where’s the bathroom?” one of them asked.
“Right down the hall there,” I said, pointing to it.
“And the caulk?” asked the other.
“I thought you two brought your own,” I said.
“No, silly,” said Lo. She then went into our little tool drawer and pulled it out, along with a caulk gun, a box cutter, a sponge and a bucket.”
“Here you go,” she said to the other brother.
“Oh, caulk!” I said, with enthusiasm. “I thought you were talking about. . . ah, never mind.”
“Yeah, what did you think we were talking about?” asked Lo, as if she hadn’t meant to confuse me all along.
She led the second boy down the hall and showed him the seam where the tub meets the tile and how discolored it had become.
The two boys set to work while Lo went into the adjacent master bedroom and slipped out of her jeans. She wore only her thong and her blouse. They were unaware until she called into the bathroom and offered a cool drink. The boys looked up, dumbfounded.
“Uh, sure,” said one of them.
“Two lemonades ok?”
“Fine,” said the other, drawing out the vowel as if talking about Lo and not the lemonade.
Lo turned and went to the kitchen to grab the drinks for the boys.
“Don’t turn up the heat too much,” I said to her.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked like Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind.
She turned tail and walked away from me. I followed just to see what would happen next.
She went into the bathroom and bent over to the kneeling brothers and handed them the drinks. “Oh, that looks much better!” she said of their job. Truth be told, it was a hack job by two amateurs. That didn’t matter to Lola. That was strictly beside the point. All the more reason to invite a professional contractor in and give him an encore performance of her Emmy Award winning act.
The boys, clearly distraught at the difficulty of the task and the distraction of Lo, wiped the little sweat from their brows and drank the lemonade.
“Maybe now that you fixed that so quickly, you two could help me with something else,” she said. I was very curious what she had in mind, as were our two fix-it men.
Lo crawled across the bed, her ass cheeks seductively contorting like a proud lynx prancing before her prey. She got to the edge, her top half disappeared off the side of the bed, and then reemerged with her Hitachi. She looked over at the captivated cherubs and said, “I don’t know if the motor blew out or what, but I can’t seem to get it to turn on.”
The boys practically fumbled over each other trying to get to her. As they did, she cast me a knowing look. She had just used the masturbatory machine that morning.
One of the boys held it, flipping the switch on and off to no avail as the other inspected the wire. Both of them stood over Lo’s prostrate body on the bed. She smiled up at them.
“Did I overdo it?” she asked. If there was a portmanteau that combined ‘innocently’ with ‘guiltily,’ like the word frenemy, then that would be how she asked that question. And what a frenemy she was to me just then!
One of the boys flipped a switch on the power cord under the bed and the giant white ball began vibrating ferociously in the other’s hand.
“You did it!” squealed Lo.
“Yeah,” said the one who flipped the switch. “You must have tripped the circuit breaker on this,” he said, holding up the power cord and showing Lo the emergency shut off button (that I’m sure Lo purposely shut off for just this reason).
“Oh, I see,” she said. “Thanks!” She spread her legs wide, indicating where the vibrating ball of the Hitachi should go.
The one holding it eventually got the hint. He placed it between her legs, over her thong.
“Yeah,” said Lo lustily.
He let it rest there for a while. Lo rotated her hips to get the vibrations where she wanted them.
“Turn it on hi-power,” she instructed. He obeyed. Lo raised her hips and pulled down her bra. The other brother reached down and began pinching her nipples as Lo cupped her tits with her hands.
“Yeah,” she moaned again, “do that.” Lo slowly unbuttoned her blouse and then removed it to let him see and touch her breasts.
She looked up at the boys and asked, “You two have been under strict quarantine?”
“Yes,” replied one of them.
“No going out? No seeing anyone?” asked Lo.
“Yeah,” said the other, “not for the past two or three months.”
“No girlfriends?”
They both laughed a little. “Even if we had girlfriends, which we don’t, our mom would never let us see them. Not during this pandemic.”
Lo ran her tongue over her teeth as she looked up, her head very close to their bulging cocks. “So, you two haven’t been able to. . .” Before she finished her sentence, she grabbed the Hitachi and manipulated it to flip her switch and, without warning she was convulsing, cursing, and cumming with a wave of wetness flowing over her thong, soaking the bed covers. All the time, I watched in silence from the doorway.
The two guys gawked at Lo’s percolations.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she said to the two of them when she caught her breath.
Each of them looked over at me standing in the doorway, smirking just a little at Lo’s mode of flirtation.
She slid out of her soaked panties and asked, “Who’s first?” as she spread her legs wide and smacked her pussy.
One of the boys pulled down his pants and pulled out his cock. He was large and very hard.
Lo licked her lips at the sight of it. She turned on her tum.
- Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose
She rotated horizontal on the bed and got into the anahatasana, or melting heart pose, protruding her ass over the side of the bed prominently, while her arms were stretched out far in front of her head.
The boy whose pants were down – Roy or Gary? – slid in and Lo showed her appreciation with a long low moan. As he was sliding in and out of her, his brother dropped his pants around his ankles. He tapped out his brother and tapped into Lo with enthusiasm. Lo seemed to enjoy the change of length, girth, and rhythm. His brother stood next to him spreading Lo’s ass wide apart for his brother’s easy access.
Without warning, Lo’s body involuntarily squeezed him out – the first physiological sign that she’s about to have a violent squirting orgasm.
“You’re going to have to ride that pony better than that if you want to stay in the saddle,” I jibed, knowing full well how difficult it is to avoid slip-sliding out when her trap squeezes shut.
“Let me try,” said the other brother, thinking he’d have the superior technique. He slid right in after Lo’s sprinkle (which soaked all the clothes on the floor) had subsided.
- Bitilasana – Cow Pose
Lo propped her torso up on both arms and her back made a concave curve causing her ass to protrude upward. She used her arms to push backward to meet the boy’s thrusts. Bang, bang, bang he bounced off of her butt. Smack, smack, smack she slid down on his rod, her tits flailing forward and back with the rapid back-and-forth of her torso. I should mention that, unlike in the first position, when she had her head down, facing the bed, now she was looking directly at me as she took the shocks from behind. Our eyes were locked and she was feeding off of how much delight I took in her sexual prowess.
“Fuck me!” she commanded over her shoulder, as if he wasn’t giving it his all already. “Come on, can’t you do better than that?” She was just taunting him now. I knew very well that she wasn’t used to this sort of rough ride. The poor young fellow put so much force into it that I was worried he might pull a muscle in his back.
I saw Lo’s fingers curl up and clutch the bed sheets as if she were hanging on vertically to the bed, trying not to fall. I saw her toes curl and I knew what was about to happen.
Sure enough, she shot contestant #2 right out of her convulsing cunt just as forcefully as she ejected the first one, followed by a torrent of orgasmic flow.
The two brothers watched, amazed at the quantity and velocity of her ejaculation.
- Balasana – Child Pose
Lo curled up her knees under her and stretched her arms out far in front of her, tucking her head down between her arms as she caught her breath. The boys were polite enough to give her the time she needed to recuperate. They stood there, flanking her naked body, like silent sentinels at attention, their spears raised.
“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I instructed them, breaking my silence.
“What?”
“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I repeated.
The kid did what I said.
“Now, use that to rub around her asshole.”
“Daddy,” Lo objected. She doesn’t like vulgarity to be used about her body.
“Around her special spot,” I corrected myself.
The kid did as he was told. Lo moaned.
“Slide it in, gently. Not too quickly.”
This kid needed step-by-step diagrams.
Lo moaned again.
“When she feels loose, insert two fingers. She likes that.”
“Loose?” Lo asked, looking up at me from the bed.
“Relatively loose,” I corrected.
- Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose
Lo extended her arms out in front of her and lifted her ass up in the air for the boys to have it closer to their level. Her knees were still tucked under her torso. One of the brothers was wiggling his finger in her rear. He eventually added a second finger. The other brother held his cock in his hand, gawking awkwardly.
Lo was making small circles with her ass. She moved one hand and slapped her ass cheek hard. She did it again. She looked back over her shoulder, enjoying the view of the brother with his cock in his hand.
Eventually she began to inch backwards, sliding off of the bed.
- Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose
Standing, Lo bent over at the hip, deeply plunging her torso down toward the floor as the young fella plunged his two fingers deeply in her ass.
“That’s enough,” said Lo. “Fuck my ass.”
Both boys looked bewildered at the bounty of benefits they were getting. The one who had been holding his cock took the lead and slid it right into her accommodating back door.
As he was going at her, Lo put her hands around her ankles and held the pose perfectly. Though I couldn’t see from my vantage point, I imagine that she was looking up at the action from down below.
Eventually the other brother maneuvered onto the bed and sat in front of Lo. Lo pulled up her torso out of the folded pose and placed her mouth on the boy’s rigid cock, sucking and slurping. I was very impressed with the endurance both these youths had.
- Malasana – Garland Pose
Lo was very capable of bringing the brother before her to climax, but she was very careful not to. Instead, she pulled forward, leaving Mr. Backdoor standing firm. She lifted her lips up off of the cock they had covered with wet caresses, and she climbed up on the bed.
“You,” she said. I think she was as confused as to who was Gary and who was Roy as I was. “You, come here,” she commanded like a director on set before a shot. She placed him flat on the bed, his staff protruding upward.
She straddled him, facing him. Her hands grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them wide apart as she slowly lowered herself down on his eager erection, penetrating deep into her pussy. She remained on her feet over him.
“You,” she instructed to the other brother, Mr. Backdoor. “Get behind me and back in my ass,” she said, still spreading her ass cheeks apart.
He responded rapidly, hopping on the bed and, on his knees, sliding up and in her awaiting hole.
Now she had both brothers inside her. She extended her hands in front of her to keep her balance and their pistons alternated in-and-out of her like a two-cylinder engine. She moved her right hand down to her clit and began circling her bean. Knowing Lola as I do, I knew that this move always preceded —————-
There it is! Like a whale spout going off, her high pressure pussy precipitated all over the boy beneath her accompanied by her tirade of Tourette’s-like string of profanities. I think she actually scared both boys.
- Ustrasana – Camel Pose
The boy behind her slipped out of her ass as Lo was drenching his brother caught between her legs. Lo, thinking he was on the cusp of cumming himself, turned around rapidly and enveloped his cock with her mouth, taking it deep into her throat. She could feel how powerfully the pressure was building. At precisely the right moment, she pulled off his cock, drooped her head back, and grabbed onto her ankles with her hands, displaying her chest prominently for the young man to douse with his abundant display of gratification.
Covered in one brother’s cum, the second brother still lying between her spread legs, Lo leaned forward to lick clean any remnants of the first brother’s ejaculate. But then she devoted her full attention to the second brother.
Lo turned over, and lay on the boy’s sculpted torso, slathering him in the cum that was on her breasts. She kissed the brother on the lips, open mouth, and slid, kissing her way down his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, and right down to his rock-solid passion pillar.
When her mouth had alighted on the object of her desire, she turned to the other brother and said, “Hold it for me.”
“What?” he asked in disbelief.
“Hold his cock for me.”
Having been the beneficiary of Lo’s abundant generosity, he obliged. He reached out with his right hand and held his brother’s phallus firmly for Lo to lavish attention on it with her labia.
- Marjaryasana – Cat Pose
Lo was on her knees, supporting herself with her arms, drooping her head down and lightly licking the tip of the youth’s cock as his brother controlled the large limb with his right hand, circling it around Lo’s lips and slapping it on her cheek, just the way she likes.
- Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose
Lo said, “Get up.” The boy who’s tip she was teasing, looked momentarily stunned. A questioning look appeared in his eyes. But, by now he should have known better than to question Lo. He sat up. “All the way,” said Lo.
He got up. Lo took his place, lying flat on her back. She spread her legs wide, lifting them in the air, and grabbing her toes with her hands. Her pussy, drenched and glistening, clean shaven, and pink, was spread wide.
“Stand there,” she said, indicating right in front of her, between her legs.
The youth was on his knees, his cock raring to plunge into Lo’s gorgeous glazed open pussy.
“You like what you see?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you ready to cum?”
“No.”
“Good. Fuck me, then,” she said.
He got up and into her. Her arms and legs enveloped his body. Her face turned toward me. “Daddy,” she said as she received rapid thrusts from the youth.
“Yes,” I responded.
“I’m thirsty.”
I disappeared to the kitchen where I got Lo a large glass of ice water. I returned with it. The boy was pounding her, oblivious of my movements. Lo reached out with her left hand and took the water from me. Her forehead was sweating. Her hair matted down in front. She gulped the water as the boy continued his enthusiastic jousts at her cunt. I could tell that by this point, she wasn’t even feeling him, she was so wet and wide.
After she returned the water to me, she pushed the boy back, interrupting his irreverent attempts to cum inside her.
“Are you about to cum now?” Lo asked as he sat on his haunches in front of her, between her legs.
“I’m close,” he said.
“Grab it,” she instructed, but not to him, to his brother.
He took his brother’s hard cock in his hand.
“Jack him off. I want him to cum right here,” said Lo, slapping her pussy.
The two went at it, cock-in-hand, as Lo spread her lower lips with her fingers and slid a few deep inside.
“You like seeing me fuck myself?” she asked.
The boys couldn’t answer. They were mesmerized.
“You like how much of a slut I am? You like that I fucked you both right here in front of my man? You like my pussy? You like my ass?” she asked as she began fingering her special spot for them.
Suddenly, without any warning, the youth ejaculated with more force, volume, and velocity than I had ever seen. He covered Lo from head to pussy in his cum as his brother encouraged the multiple eruptions of his quaking cock.
“That’s it,” said Lo. “That’s it. Cum. Good boy. Cum all over me. Yeah.”
- Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose
When the brother finally completed his composition on Lo’s canvas, he smiled, obviously very pleased with himself. Lo smiled too and she bent her knees and curled her back a bit, pulling at her toes with her hands.
“Daddy,” she said.
“Yes Lo?”
“May I have my glass dildo please?”
I opened the night table drawer and pulled out “Glindo,” her glass dildo, and handed it to her.
She inserted it slowly in her wet pussy.
“Um,” said one of the boys, “we had better get going.”
“OK,” said Lo as she masturbated.
“This was fun,” said the other boy.
Lo was moaning at this point.
The boys were putting on their soaking wet clothes.
“Just tell your mom that you washed our car,” I said.
“Right,” said one of the boys.
“Bye Lo,” said the other one.
“Bye,” said his brother. “And thanks!”
Lo was too self-absorbed to respond.
Stress Relief
It was Thursday night. I walked in on Lo taking a shower. “Why is there a wineglass in here?” I asked.
“Because I thought I’d have a sensual, romantic evening.”
“Only you would make a sensual, romantic date with yourself in the shower.”
“Hardly. But, if you must know, I had originally planned on a bath, surrounded by candles.”
“And?”
“I wanted to cut to the chase.”
I looked in at her and saw that she had the hand-held shower head between her legs.
“Only you could cheat yourself out of a romantic date in order to get lucky – with yourself!”
After her climax, she got out of the shower and as she was drying off, she said, “I’m trying to cultivate pleasurable habits.”
I snickered.
“What?”
“Pleasurable habits are your forte. I don’t think you need to ‘cultivate’ them.”
“No, no. Not those sorts of pleasurable habits. Normally it would be things like getting coffee at a café, strolling through a museum. Doing yoga. But during these pandemic times we’re in, I need to discover and foster different pleasurable habits. What are your pleasurable habits?”
“You.”
“Damn straight.”
“Glad we’re agreed on that because I was afraid you were going to tell me to work out or eat better, or, God forbid, cut out beer!”
“Speaking of that. . .”
“Oh no!”
“No, no, no, silly. I was just going to say that since I can’t go to the gym, I am going to have to find a way to do workouts at home.”
She put on her workout shorts and sports bra and told me to get out of the bedroom because she was going to do some exercises. I left and about five minutes later I heard her grunting and breathing heavily.
The next day Lola went into the bedroom to do her exercises again. When she came out she told me about a workout video that got her hot – about burning your buns off.
On the third day, Lola went into the bedroom to do her exercises and I heard her grunting and breathing heavily. I was curious. I went to check on her. I cracked the bedroom door and found her masturbating on the bed to the sexy woman in the exercise video.
“Is this how you work out?!” I said, walking in on her and interrupting the strenuous physical discipline.
“I told you, I am cultivating pleasurable habits. If my exercise turns into a digitally manipulated cardio session, that counts as a pleasurable habit.”
The next day during her exercise time I caught her in the bedroom pounding her pussy with her glass dildo instead of doing pushups.
“I felt like I needed to work out, but needed to work it out first! I had a really hard day.”
“Oh, is this your homeopathic remedy?”
“Why do you ridicule me? I don’t poke fun at you when your idea of exercise is typing fifty-words-per-minute.”
“I’m not poking fun at you. I’m in awe of your capacity for poking your yum-yum.”
“Good grief! Could you leave me to my own devices and take your puns into the other room?”
The following night she began masturbating during a movie we were watching.
“Lo, what are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like your finger-fucking your pussy while we’re trying to watch a movie.”
“Keen observation.”
“But why can’t we just watch the movie? Before too long, you’ll make yourself cum and then you’ll want to fuck me and we’ll never get through the movie.”
“We’re watching Brad Pitt take off his shirt. Everyone masturbates to that!”
“You’re extrapolating.”
“What?”
“Because you do it, you’re extrapolating from yourself to everyone.”
“And everyone extrapolates.”
“Now you’re confusing extrapolate with masturbate. Everyone masturbates, but not during every movie.”
“Extrapolate, masturbate, fornicate, what’s the difference? Can you please press PLAY so I can get on with this? You interrupted my rhythm.”
“You’re just going to exacerbate the problem by persisting in it.”
“Exactly.”
As I sat watching the scene unfold, I can’t deny that it got me hard. Lo noticed and said, “If we go to bed, will you stay up?”
“What about the movie?”
“You’ll fall asleep during it anyway. Let’s get into the bedroom where you can get into me.”
I agreed and got up. She remained on the couch.
“Aren’t you coming?” I asked.
“I hope to be soon. Brush your teeth, get in bed and I’ll be right there. I’m just going to finish this up,” she said as if she were in the middle of making a spreadsheet for a work project.
In bed, I fell asleep waiting for her. She must have entered without my noticing, pulled out her Hitachi and, after cumming once, she put it on my back and jolted me awake. “I was just using the defibrillator to bring you back to consciousness,” she said wickedly.
After I awoke, she sucked me off, climbed on top of me, and began riding my erect cock. It is well trained to react to her while the rest of me sleeps. “Fucking you is like fucking a geriatrics patient.”
“You say the most romantic things.”
“I need dick. Give it to me.”
I was almost asleep again as she bounced up and down.
“This is like fucking a cock on a corpse after rigor mortis has set in.”
“You sure know how to turn a guy on.”
“I want your cum, Daddy. Give it to me. Fill me.”
Relieved to hear her request since it meant the culmination of my satisfaction and the fulfillment of her nocturnal necromancy, I released my draught of desire deep inside her to her delight.
“Thank you, Daddy,” she said, falling into my arms.
“So, am I on your list of pleasurable habits to cultivate?”
“Of course you are, silly! Number one on the list is ‘Jill it. Drill it. Fill it.’”
“What’s number two?”
“Actually, it’s the only thing on my list so far.”
Illustrator Needed for Disney Damsel Lola Down
“Daddy,” she complained, “diddling my bean is fine, but it’s not as much fun as when it’s diddled by someone else.”
“You want me to diddle your bean?” I asked.
“What I mean is, a surprise. A stranger. An unexpected diddle.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, “the serendipitous fappening that one finds unbidden upon the side of the road, in a bar, or wherever one may get one’s jollys jilled on a sunny spring day.”
“Without putting it quite so poetically, yes. After all, it is May. Masturbation Month. Hooray! Hooray! The First of May! Outdoor fucking starts today!” she sang.
“Sounds like you’re the poet.”
“Oh Daddio,” she pouted, as she continued stroking her smoothly shaved pussy on the bedside. “That’s older than you are.”
“A relic from Chaucer’s time then.”
“Maybe as old as Beowulf.”
Her climax was building until she shot a small stream sprinkling up through the air onto the tile floor, much like a shot from a water pistol.
“And what, may I ask, put you over the edge that time?”
“The thought of meeting Grendel in the woods.”
“Grendel diddles Little Lo’s pink riding hood. How literary.”
“Grendel, the Big Bad Wolf, I’d even take Gaston.”
“I bet you would! Or all three, if you were in a crossover series.”
“I like that idea. A Disney fairytale staring Lola Down.”
“Would you be the villain or the princess?”
“Both.”
“Both? Disney stories are not that complex.”
“It would be the story of how Princess Lola Down is usurped from power by the effigies that are made of her in the city because they all depict her naked, like Lady Godiva, but they come to life, like Galatea, and strip Lola of her throne and her clothes. She wanders about the streets, a naked waif or harlot, until one day, through her own power of understanding, she relinquishes her claim to all the reproductions of herself, thereby releasing them from her true essence and allowing them to live on as mere likenesses. By giving up her hold on them (or the hold that she wrongfully believed she had on them), she deprives them of the power they had over her and thus they yield back the throne to her once more.”
“So, you’re victim, villain, and hero?”
“That I am. And you know what else I am?”
“What?”
“Horny.”
“Well, have fun.”
“What?! You’re not going to fuck me? Give me your sword!”
“I’m going to go write that down. You know what they say, the power of the pen is mightier than the sword.”
“Perhaps, but far more diminutive,” she said as she pulled out her huge dildo and held it up in the air as if commanding a great army to victory.
As I sat at the desk writing this story, she impaled herself several times with the wobbly weapon until, finally striking to the quick, she died a glorious death at her own hands. La petite mort.