Lo’s
trysts with Robert continued on a fairly regular basis. He’d text.
She’d encourage him to come. He
would. But as his drop-ins became more
frequent, the novelty of it began to wear off for Lo, and perhaps for Robert as
well. And so they would engage in
different, ever more elaborate conceits to involve me in their affair. I shall mention just a few of them here.
Though
I sat merely yards away from where they were going at it in the bedroom, one
time Lo called me on her phone from there to the living room. I could practically hear her talking, even
without the use of the phone, yet she spoke to me as if I was far off in
another town.
“Daddy,
do you want to know what Robert is doing to me now?”
“What’s
he doing, Lo?” I asked, nonchalantly.
“He’s
behind me, fucking me doggy-style. His
cock is so long, it’s hitting my spot perfectly,” she said, following it up
with a long moan that I could hear perfectly in the living room.
Another
time, as they were going at it in the bedroom, Lo took a selfie. She was doggie-style, he behind her. She made a big ‘O’ with her mouth as if she
were in ecstasy. She texted the photo to
me.
A
different night, after I showed Robert into the bedroom and I was about to turn
to leave, Lo stopped me. She was naked
under the sheets. Robert was fully
dressed and anxious. Lo said, “Wait,
Daddio.”
“Yes,”
I asked, like a dutiful servant in a nineteenth century English manor
house.
“Tonight
I’m going to give Robert my ass,” she said.
“And?”
I asked politely.
She
fumbled in the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Will you grease me up?” she asked, pulling
down the sheets, turning over, protruding her ass in the air and pointing to
her special spot.
Devotedly,
I took the lube and covered my index finger with it and proceeded to spread it
all around her target as she moaned and wiggled her ass. I then inserted my finger in and out as
Robert looked on. “Like this, Lo?” I
asked.
Right there!
“MmmmmHmmmm,”
she said, “More.”
I
continued. She orgasmed, collapsing into
the bed.
“That
will be all,” she said dismissively.
“Robert, I’m ready for you.” And
she slid on her tum so that her legs were spread on the floor and she was bent
over at a ninety-degree angle on the bed.
I saw Robert unbuckle his belt and undo his pants as I slowly closed the
door. I heard Lo moan as he entered her
and I walked down the hall.
“Daddio,”
I heard her call once more, just as I got to the living room.
I
returned and knocked on the door.
“Come
in,” said Lo, struggling to speak.
I
entered the room. Robert had already
entered her. Lo looked up at me.
“Daddio,”
she said.
“Yes?”
“Do
you want to fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass?”
“If
that gives you pleasure,” I said.
“Where
is it?”
“She’s
in the closet.”
“She?!”
she said, “Now it has a gender?!”
“She’s
a vagina. Of course she has a
gender. She goes by the pronouns: She,
Her, Hers.”
“It
is just a vagina.”
“I
don’t reduce women to only their genitalia,” I said, aware of the irony of my
statement.
“Well,
grab your vagina and pull out your cock,” she said.
I
got my Stoya Fleshlight and unzipped my pants.
Lo applied the lube to my cock and then held Stoya in her hands as I
penetrated her (that is, Stoya’s) vagina.
Stoya & Stoya’s Fleshlight
“That’s
it, Daddio. You fuck Stoya while Robert
fucks my ass,” she said with clear delight.
She shut her eyes and enjoyed the ride.
In a remarkable chain reaction, Lo began to cum and then both Robert and
I came, making for a splendid triple play.
“This is for you, Daddy”
These
odd requests and variations were the exception, however, not the norm. The norm was a five or ten minute shag, one
orgasm achieved by each party, and then on went the clothes and out the door
went Robert.
One
night Lo had already said yes to Robert’s request to come over, but as he was
on his way, she remembered that she was supposed to make a call overseas for
work. She was planning a major event and
had invited some big name people to join.
She had to make the call and it wouldn’t be a short conversation.
Lo
was already on the phone with her connection abroad when Robert arrived. I explained to Robert the mix-up when he
walked in and he asked, “Should I wait?” looking uncomfortable about the
prospect, and also a bit disappointed and a tad upset. Spoiled man.
“No,”
I said in reply. “Lola said you could
quietly sneak in.”
Sneak
into what? The bedroom? Her snatch?
Both apparently.
Lo
was naked, standing up, bent over a desk, one hand holding the phone and the
other a pen as she took notes. She used
the pen to point to her ass and indicated where she wanted Robert. She then put the pen perpendicularly over her
lips to indicate, “Shhhhhh.” Robert
didn’t even fully undress. He just
pulled out his rod and mounted her, slowly and easily. She continued her conversation as if nothing
was happening behind her. He slid in and
out, using her wet snatch for his pleasure until he finally came deep inside
her. He put his pud back in his pants,
zipped up, washed off, and blew a kiss goodbye to Lo as she continued to take
notes, cum dripping down her inner thigh.
After I saw Robert out, I got a warm washcloth to clean her off. When she was finally done with her business
call, she joined me in the bed.
Thanks Robert
“Did
you enjoy that?” I asked.
“Enjoy
it?” she asked back, surprised. “I
didn’t even notice. I was too focused on
the phone call.”
When I
left, Lo and I were in a big fight. It’s
never good to leave for a week-long business trip halfway across the country on
bad terms. Especially with Lo. There wasn’t one thing that was the catalyst
of this rift, but rather lots of little things.
Both she and I had been dealing with pressures at work, I had been
recovering from the flu, she had an unexpected major expense that had to be
paid. We both were stressed, exhausted,
and short-tempered. Each of us had been
prickly with the other, like two porcupines in close quarters.
“Come here,
Daddio,” she said the night before I left as I was getting ready for bed. It was her way of trying to rekindle the
relationship. “I’m so cold. Come and warm me up.” Though she really was cold, she also was
naked on the bed, spreading her legs for me, rubbing her puss.
“Cold? Looks to me like you have a very warm
fleece,” I said of her au naturel triangle, “and all that friction you’re
making might light that bush on fire.”
The words came out more sarcastic and biting than I intended. My loving little banter was not warmly
received.
Watering the Bush
“If you
don’t like it, you can’t have it,” she shot back, covering herself with the
blankets.
“I never
said I didn’t like it.”
“Well, too
late. This bush is only for someone who
truly appreciates me.”
“And who
might that be?”
“ME!” she
said, pulling out her Hitachi, her dildo, and her phone.
No sooner
had she gotten the giant white ice cream cone revved up and the dildo delved in
deep and the phone queued to one of her favorite porn videos than, to her great
surprise, the phone rang! She nearly
jumped out of the bed. She dropped the
Hitachi and it was still buzzing. Her
dildo was left dangling, and she had to fumble with her phone as she said hello
because all the moaning and groaning sounds of the porno film were still
playing.
“Hi Lo,”
the person on the other end said, “Is this an ok time?”
“Yeah. Yes.
Sure. Just one sec.,” said Lo as
she tried to compose herself and shut off all her stimulation devices. Finally she was focused on the call and I
climbed into bed next to her, stroking my cock.
Seeing her pleasure herself still gets me off after all this time. But seeing her interrupted and frustrated is
a rare delight.
It was
Robert. He needed someone to talk
to. He was feeling despondent. And he had been scrolling through the
blog.
I curled up
next to Lo and whispered, “Don’t tell him I’m here,” as I guided my cock into
her cupped hand. She mindlessly gave me
a hand-job as she talked to Robert. Or
rather, I should say, I eased my way in-and-out of her palm. She was unaware of or unconcerned with my
movements.
She talked
to him in a consoling and kind tone, listening to his lament of
loneliness. He hadn’t been with someone
in so long. The night at the museum was
such a powerful moment for him. Since
then he had done more study of Koons and his Made in Heaven installation.
Jeff Koons and his wife Ilona Staller, “Made in Heaven”
When I
heard that, I was both amused and angered.
I’m the one who turned Lo onto Koons! I deserve the credit for that. Whatever.
I continued
to slide my cock in-and-out of her cupped hand.
I kept quiet.
“What did
you like about it?” asked Lo to Robert in her seductive tone of voice.
“I, um, I
liked, I like that you suggested it to me.”
“Really?”
asked Lo, intrigued. “Why?”
“Lo, I, uh,
I never met a woman like you.”
“Go on,”
she said, captivated by the story of herself.
“You’re so
brazen. Is that the right word? So, daring.
So. . .”
“Slutty?”
“That’s not
the word I was going to use.”
“Use it,”
she commanded.
“What?” he
said, as if he hadn’t heard her properly.
“Call me a
slut. I like it. Say it.
I’m touching myself now.”
She
wasn’t. She was holding the phone with
one hand and my member with the other.
“OK,” said
Robert. “You’re a slut.”
“Yesss,”
said Lo.
That was
too much for me. I pulled back and
grabbed my cock and came all over myself as Lo looked on, desirously.
Now she was
touching herself.
“Are you
jackin’ it?” she asked Robert.
“Am I. . .
?”
“Are you
jacking off? Stroking yourself?”
“No,” he
said, as if offended.
“Why not?”
“Lo, I
didn’t call you like someone would call a phone sex service.”
“You
didn’t?”
“No. I. . .”
“But you
can. What do you want to hear?”
There was a
long silence on the other end interrupted only by Lo’s occasional moans of
pleasure. Self-pleasure.
“Do you
want to hear that I loved sucking you off?” she asked.
“You did?”
“Yessss,”
she said.
“Why?”
“I love
sucking cock. Any cock. Lots of cock.
I love helping guys out. I love
giving relief. Let me help you. Are you by your computer?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Pull up a pic of me if you haven’t already.”
“I, I, I,”
Robert stammered.
“You
already had it up, didn’t you?” accused Lo.
“I did,” he
admitted.
“Good. Which pic is it?”
“It’s of you
in your neon blue panties stroking your pussy lips.”
“You like
that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s
beautiful.”
“Well
that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.
I’m stroking my wet, pink, pussy lips with my beautifully manicured
fingers, slowly sliding them up and down and in and out. Does that turn you on?”
“Yes.”
“Are you
stroking your cock?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, I want you to hang up the phone and take
pics of you stroking it to my pics. Make
sure my photo is in the frame so I know that I’m the one who is making you hard
and makes you cum. You will cum, won’t
you?”
“If you
want me to.”
“I do.”
“OK.”
“Do it and
send me the pics.”
“OK.”
“And
Robert.”
“Yes?”
“What am
I?”
“A dirty,
filthy slut.”
“That’s
right. Don’t forget it,” she said and
she hung up on him.
I was
cleaning myself off when she got the notification that a text was sent to
her. She opened it. There were three photos. One of Robert jackin’ it to her pics. One of him cumming. And one of the mess he made. Lo looked at them again and again and she
eventually came herself.
“Thanks,” I
said.
“For what?”
she said.
“For making
me cum,” I said.
“Oh, did I
do that?” she asked, sincerely unaware of her passive powers.
The next
morning, before Lo woke up, I was off to the airport, sad that we hadn’t
properly reconciled.
You
know, dear reader, not everything between Lola and me is hotwife, cuckold,
chronic masturbation, fetish, bukkake, squirting, spanking, MILF lust,
sadomasochistic, bestiality, giant dildo, public fucking, anal massage,
strap-on, nymphet, perfect vulva, high heels porn, cockfest, ejaculation,
climaxing crazy sex, lesbian sex machine, leaking pussy, ass fingering,
self-pleasuring, jilling-off, Ben Wa Balls, thongs, giant cock, swollen vulva,
candid cleavage, strippers, erotic boudoir, summer skirts, ass pounding, public
pussy, sapphic lovers, sexy volleyball, legs spread, open crotch, love juice, naked
beach volleyball, kneeling rosary beads, orgasm face, MILF parties, babysitter
sex, men jerking off, nude art classes, wet panties, vibrators, leashes, short
shorts, foot fetish, erotic indulgence, nympho in heat, gangbang, clit
stroking, protruding nipples, exhibitionist teachers, negligee nympho, fisting,
cunnilingus, wild poetry and naked reading, sucking cocks, bare mons pubis,
tantric solo sessions, and horse cocks.
(OK, I may have developed that list from the search terms people have
used to find the blog.)
Sometimes,
my voyeuristic companion, Lola and I just simply engage in wordless, intimate
erotic lovemaking. Is that so hard to
believe?
Take
for instance the other night. It was a
Tuesday or a Wednesday. There was
nothing particularly special about it.
We may have watched a movie or a couple of short comedies. We grew tired of lying on the couch
decompressing from our busy workday and went to bed. The usual: brushing teeth, remove clothes,
hop under covers.
I
was tired. She was tired. I thought nothing would happen, but then she
reached over and grabbed my package under the sheets and fondled until she
achieved the desired result. She spread
her legs, slapped her pussy twice, and said, “I’m open for business.”
I
climbed on top of her and slowly slid the seat of my desire inside. She squeezed her breasts with her hands and
said, “Suck my nipples, Daddy.”
I
complied.
She
moved her right hand down to her crotch and began stroking her clit in slow, vertical
movements. I could feel the tip of her
index finger on the base of my shaft. I
could feel the knuckle in her finger up against my pelvis. I could feel her wrist bent just under my
bellybutton each time I thrust.
She
slowly moved from her clit into her chamber.
Her finger was noodling up the length of my rod, trying to make its way
to her G-spot. I felt her getting
deeper, crowding me for space. Then she
inserted her middle finger as well. The
two fingers worked in tandem. I could
feel the knuckles on the top of my cock and the fingertips at the tip of my
cock. She had reached the spot. She masturbated as I fucked.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“There,”
she said, as if to me, but really as if to say, “Yes, my fingers, there is the
goal of your journey.”
She
came, a quiet, deep moaning orgasm. Her
pussy clenched then loosened. She
inserted the rest of her fingers of her right hand to make up for the slack. Then she grabbed the other side of her pussy
with her left hand and I could feel all eight fingertips like some sort of sea
anemone wiggling and wriggling inside her, flowing with the waves. She pulled the side walls of her cunt apart
with her hands so wide that I no longer felt anything.
“Daddy,
do you think that if I spread myself like this as a gang of men surrounded me,
that each one of them could go in me, cum, and then let the next one in?”
Lo’s Fantasy
It
was a bizarre question. It didn’t quite
make sense, but since when does sex make sense?
The imagery was vivid enough for me to do just that – cum inside her
gaping hole.
“I
love you, Daddy,” she said.
“And
I’m balls-deep in love with you.”
OK,
so I lied. I don’t know if we ever
actually do have wordless, intimate erotic lovemaking. But, so what?
I like it and so does she.
Finally a moment to relax. Some time to myself. A quiet interval to read for enjoyment before sweet sleep. I was deep into the Bukowski’s Notes of a Dirty Old Man, appropriately enough. As I tried to enjoy one of the short stories about a dissolute life, Lo lay next to me, naked, her legs spread, diddling her bean, clearly looking for attention. She spread her legs wider, putting her left leg up and over my legs. She inserted her finger and moaned. No response from me. She spread her legs even further until her left knee hit the cover of my book, knocking it out of my hands. She dipped all five fingers into her gaping pleasure patch.
Lo’s Bed Spread
“Hey,” I said, “watch it!”
“Clearly you’re not interested in watching,” she retorted.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“Probably not,” she replied, cursorily, as she continued to fap with her five fingers.
“Then may I read in peace?”
“Why do you want to read now?” she asked.
“Well,” I said with some snark, “right now, I feel like it gives me a leg up, if you know what I mean.”
She raised her leg even further, across my chest.
“Watch out, dear,” I said, “you’re spreading yourself a bit thin there.”
“Thin?! Thin?! I’m a proudly thick woman,” she said.
“Look,” I said, “if you want me, then just use your words and ask for me to fuck you.”
“I shouldn’t need my words,” she said as she pulled out her fingers from her puss, “I’m using sign language.”
“And I’m using my ability to read lips.”
“See, we don’t even need words,” she said, “we can communicate perfectly well with body language.”
I got on my knees, pulled down my boxers, pulled out my hard cock and asked, “What does this body language express to you?”
Reading Notes of a Dirty Old Man
“Everything I want to know,” she said, “now dip your pen in my wet well and write your poetry all over me, you dirty old man.”
A
July vacation at a beach house for a week can be the perfect antidote to all of
your problems. Unless that vacation is a
family reunion and the beach house is for thirty people. And among those thirty people are married
dads in their forties and fifties who are in good shape. And your girlfriend is Lo. Then, you might have ninety-nine problems,
but Lo is the only one you have to really worry about.
That
was the case this week. Every seven
years or so my extended family decides that we should make a pilgrimage from
all the corners of the globe, rent one enormous house on the beach with enough
bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate us all, and stay under one roof for seven
days straight. We have been doing this
for a few decades now, but we hadn’t had one of these since I started dating
Lola.
She
hadn’t met most of my family – only heard about them through various stories I
told her and, to be fair, with thirty of them, I doubt that she really could
tell one from the other without having met them in person. But this week, right in the middle of July,
we were all going to be up-close and personal with each other. Foolishly, I hadn’t thought of warning her
prior to our departure. This was my
family. Did I need to warn her? Apparently so.
You
see, if I do say so myself, I come from a very good looking family. My brothers and sisters and my cousins have
certain family features in common – features that drive Lo wild. I’d even venture to say that, of the lot of
us, I am probably the least physically attractive. My male relatives all have strong-cut jaws,
expressive eyes, and the classic broad shoulder tapering to a thin waist. They are very health conscious, for many of
them were athletes even through college.
My female relatives share many of the same good genes that have
preserved their looks into midlife. And
they are married to rather attractive spouses.
Throw
into this mix of middle-age men – all walking around topless, biking, kayaking,
swimming, cooking, and being dads to their respective kids – a twenty something
nymphomaniac with daddy issues wearing a skimpy bikini and you have just
brought all sorts of wrath down upon your head.
Such was my lot for a week.
It
began innocently enough. We were on the
beach with a few of my cousins. The sun
was blazing and the waves were rough and tumble. We had our boogie boards with us and, after a
beer, Lo said she wanted to ride the waves with me. We grabbed the boards and went into the
refreshing water, waded out past the crashing waves and waited for the right
moment. As we were out there, Lo turned
to me and said, “Daddio, I’m so wet!”
“We’re
in the ocean, Lo. Of course you’re wet,”
I replied.
“I
don’t mean like that,” she said with a devilish grin.
Before
I could respond, a wave came and soon she and I were soaring towards the shore
atop the white crest of the surf.
Conditions were just right for multiple sorties. She looked happy, like a little girl. I had never seen her see so happy. She was grinning from ear-to-ear. What I didn’t realize, since I was next to
her for most of the wet-n-wild rides, was that each and every time we caught a
wave and were carried in atop the undulating surge, Lo’s bikini top would be
pushed downward and, each and every time she stood up from the excursion, her
breasts were popping out, wet and glistening in the sun for all my cousins to
see.
I
only found out about this later, when, back in the house, she got naked in the
bathroom with me to take a shower. “Are
you mad, Daddy?” she asked.
“Why
would I be mad?” I said as I saw her perfectly tanned body before me.
“Because
of my ‘accidents’ at the beach.”
“What
accidents?” I asked, naively.
Then
she told me about her struggles with keeping her top on her tits.
We
got in the shower together and washed each other down with body-soap. It was one of those large shower/hot tubs
that had a comfortable seat to sit. I
told Lo to sit down below me and spread her legs. She did so, mistakenly thinking that I was
going to put my cock in her mouth. She
opened up to receive me, but, instead, I took aim and let lose, releasing the
golden stream formed from the many beers I had had on the beach. She relished in the warm stream I doused her
in, covering her tits and tum, puss and feet.
When I was good and done, she pulled my hand down and reversed positions
with me and, putting one foot up on the ledge, she took aim and allowed me to
get it just as good as I gave it.
Then
she got down on her knees on the floor of the shower and took my hard cock in
her mouth, fondling my balls with her right hand as her left rested on my
knee. Her long, wet, dark hair bobbed up
and down under the stream of the shower.
She wanted me to cum, that was clear.
She worked hard to earn my ejaculatory appreciation, but I denied her
the satisfaction of completion. Before
she got lockjaw, we got out of the shower and dried off.
She bent over the
bed, her ass beckoning me. It was my
turn to get on my knees and worship her tumescent pussy lips with my
tongue. She tasted sweet and I wanted
more. I buried the tip of my tongue as
deep as it would go in her cunt and then in her ass and back again and
again. She came multiple times, her cum
dripping down the sides of my mouth and saturating my beard as it streamed down
my neck onto my chest. I delighted in
making her so wet. Due to the cramped
living quarters, she had to bite her lower lip and swallow her orgasmic
screams. She buried her head in the
pillow to moan and groan.
At some point I
heard the sound of a radio playing from the pool area outside our window. AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” was narrating
the scene.
She was a fast
machine,
She kept her motor
clean
They sang as I
licked the smooth mons pubis of Lo from behind.
She could take it no longer and she crawled forward on the bed like a
wounded soldier out of the heat of battle.
She rolled over, exhausted already, and spread her listless legs.
She was the best
damn woman that I’d ever seen.
I slid in her
pussy with my aching rod and, honestly, I couldn’t feel a thing. Just wet.
So wet. At the very instant of my
shaft lodging deep inside her, she came in waves – waves like those of the
ocean that we were riding just a little while earlier. After her quick climax, she was suddenly
filled with new energy. She rolled me
over onto my back and slid her wet slit down the length of my solid pole,
kneeling on top of me as she pulled and pinched her nipples. I grabber by her hips and rocked her forward
and back, slishing and sliding over my hips.
She had a certain
size,
Telling me no
lies,
Knocking me out
with those American thighs.
She came
again. Again, all I could feel was
wetness cascading down upon me.
She dropped her
head down to bite on my neck and then she slid off of my rod slowly as her
tongue slid down my chest, over my abs, eventually resting at my cock. She took it all in her mouth and down the
back of her throat.
Taking more than
her share,
She had me
fighting for air,
She told me to
cum, but I was already there.
I filled her with
my pent-up power. But she wasn’t done –
no, not by a longshot.
She wanted no
applause,
Just another
course,
Made a meal out of
me,
And came back for more.
Had to cool me
down
To
take another round,
Now
I’m back in the ring
To
take another swing!
She
licked and sucked, bobbed up and down, and opened wide for my balls –
everything and anything she could do to get me back up and hard again. When she finally succeeded, she lowered
herself slowly on me once more and grabbed me, letting her nipples gently touch
mine as she let her body become enfolded in mine. I wrapped my arms around her and held her
tight.
Shower Time
From her state of
delirium, she began whispering in my ear.
“You know,” she
said in a hushed tone, “I think your family likes me.”
“I’m sure they
do,” I said.
“I mean,
especially your brothers. They really
like me.”
“I think they
really liked what they saw.”
“And I liked what
I saw.”
“What was that?” I
asked as I felt her excitement increasing with the taboo things coming out of
her mouth. I slowly moved my hands from
her back to her thighs, to her ass cheeks, and then I pulled them, spread them,
and placed my index finger on her special spot.
“They’re so
built,” she said enthusiastically, “so mature.”
“You mean old.”
“Not old.”
“Older than me.”
“Yeah, but in such
good shape.”
“I see,” I said,
knowing where she was going. . . and liking it.
“And so big.”
“Big?” I asked as
I entered her ass with my finger.
“Their cocks. Their balls.
Wearing a Speedo. . .”
She couldn’t
finish her thought. She was cumming and
cumming harder than any of the previous times.
My finger was deep inside her and I could feel her clenching up on it
and releasing multiple times.
When she was done,
all orgasms finally brought to fruition and her body exhausted, she said to me,
“That last orgasm, it felt just like I was riding that boogie board. It felt like I was riding that wave, topless,
the sea carrying me, lifting me, thrilling me, covering me with spume and salt
and sun.”
“Did you cum when
you were out there?”
“I think I might
have, a little bit.”
“You really are a
nymph, fucked by Poseidon himself.”
Earlier
that day, dear reader, we had gone to the beach with our friends Stephanie and
Mark. They’re a married couple in their
30’s, they have a couple of young kids, suburban house, everything – a quaint
picture of domestic bliss. Then you
throw Lo into the mix and, well, you’ll see what unfolds (or unzips).
Stephanie is a
work acquaintance of mine who has her office down the hall. Every so often she texts me little notes
like, “Lunch today?” followed by a winkface, a smileyface, or some other
emoticon that drives Lo crazy! Lo is
convinced she has the hots for me. But
it’s hard to stay seated atop her high horse when she is just as often on her
knees in front of a different man. As
you shall soon discover, Lo was in for a dénouement all her own. Lo, it so turns out, has more than your
casual fondness for Mark. In fact, she
has made it no secret how she feels about him.
The first time we
had dinner with them, when Lo first met Mark, Lo rushed us home and threw me
into the bed, jumping on top of me, humping me and, looking down at me from
where she lifted and descended at a rising trot’s pace, she asked, “Do you
think he wants me?”
“Mark?”
“Yes, Mark,” she
said, panting.
She didn’t even
let me answer before she finished.
Apparently just the mention of his name was enough to get her heart
palpitating.
She fell down next
to me and, caressing her soft lower lips, she said, “He’s hard-up.”
“How do you know?”
“Did you forget
that Stephanie and I had lunch together a few weeks ago?”
“And she told you
that?”
“I have my ways of
getting information. I know that they
have sex once every six months, if that.
And it’s not for his lack of wanting.”
“Do you think he wants you?”
“Fuck me and I’ll
tell you.”
She spread her
legs and I slid in.
“He’s so tall,”
she began, “and sitting next to him I could tell that he was looking down my
blouse at my tits all night.”
“I did notice
that.”
“And his long legs
touched mine under the table.”
“Did they?”
“And his cock!”
She was cumming again. “His cock
is huge. I could see it bulging right
through is pants. Oh, it’s such a waste
for her not to be on that every night!!!”
She came hard this time.
That dinner date
was a few months ago.
Now, we were at
the beach and I could tell that Lo was all riled up to see Mark in just his
swimming trunks. Knowing where Lo’s
attention would fall, I gazed at his crotch and had to admit to myself, she was
right – there was no disguising the size of that thing. It was truly amazing that the tip didn’t peek
out the bottom of those loose-fitting shorts.
As soon as we
staked out a spot for us to set up our chairs and blankets on the white sand,
Lo removed her sheer blouse, revealing her tiny bikini top and lovely tum. She had the confident air of a woman in her
twenties, showing off and prancing around her thirty-something
competition. And that self-assured
swagger sure got Mark’s attention.
Stephanie, who was
busy with the two kids, was oblivious to all the sexual tension coursing
between Lo and Mark. I watched,
contentedly. Lo was soon removing her
cutoff jeans-shorts, slipping out of them like a stripper on stage. Her bikini bottom left little to the
imagination, but I could see Mark desperately imagining what was left.
When she was down
to just her bikini, she got on all fours on the beach blanket in front of Mark,
who was sitting in a beach chair. She
roved around the blanket like a dog looking for its bone, but Lo was looking for
the sunscreen. Or so she said. I think she was just looking for attention. .
. and getting it.
“Where did you put
it?” she asked me.
“I don’t know,” I
said.
“He’s good for
nothing, Mark,” she said, jibbing at me.
As she was on all fours, her breasts hung down right in front of Mark
and then she turned and, searching her bag, her ass was up in the air right in
front of him. I’ve seen strippers on
stage who were more discrete than that.
“Oh, here it is!” she exclaimed as she pulled it out of her bag, looking
behind her to see if she was being watched.
She began applying
the lotion to her feet, legs, tum, chest, arms, shoulders, neck, face. “I missed a few spots,” she said, passing the
lotion to me as we exchanged looks – mine saying, “You’re pushing it.” Hers saying, “I want it pushed.”
I applied some
lotion to her back. “Lower,” she
said. I applied it to her lower
back. “Lower,” she said. I applied it to her ass and she pulled up the
bottoms into a thong and said, “Don’t take any chances.”
I applied it to
her ass cheeks as I looked at Mark and said, “The princess likes to be
pampered.” He laughed, but was clearly
thinking about pampering the princess in his own way. I enjoyed it.
A group of four
men strolled onto the beach with their cooler, chairs, volleyball, and
snacks. They set up camp right next to
us, attracted to Lo, no doubt. They were
all in their twenties, jacked, and looking to have fun in the sun. Lo’s attention was suddenly split between
Mark and the men. It looked like the numbers
won out – unless Lo was just toying with Mark now the way she had been toying
with me. Once she had the fish hooked,
she was content to throw it away and see what other catch she could accomplish
with her bait.
The guys, after
settling in and cracking open a few brews, set up the volleyball net and began
a game. Lo looked on enviously.
“Go play,” I said,
giving her permission.
“No, you come
too,” she said, ambiguously.
“I don’t want to.”
“Mark, will you
play?”
Mark was up for
it. The two of them approached the guys
and soon it was five guys and Lo bouncing the ball back-and-forth. Lo danced upon the sand, dashing here and
there, stretching to spike the ball, bending to pick it up, lunging to serve. She was clearly distracting to her teammates
and opponents alike. At some points her
bikini bottoms were showing her cute ass and at other points her breasts were
on the verge of flying out of their cups.
Stephanie talked
with me in between rebuking or cautioning the children. We discussed work and then leisure time. I had recounted some of the things that Lo
and I had done over the summer thus far.
“Wow!” she said, “You two do so much!”
“Well, if I had my
druthers, I’d probably just sit at home and read and write, but Lo is always on
the go-go-go.”
“One of the
downsides of dating. . .” she searched for the least judgmental words she could
find, “someone so young.” No matter how
she said it, it dripped with derision.
“She keeps me
young,” I said, simply, with a smile on my face as I watched my young nymph
flirt with the four guys and Mark.
The sun was
beating down and I could see all the players wilting in the noontime heat. They broke up their game and Lo grabbed some
cash from her bag and said she was going to get a snow cone.
“You were really
playing hard,” I commented.
Out of breath,
sweating, she just nodded.
“I mean, hard to
get,” I added sardonically.
“Daddio, I don’t
play hard to get. I play to get them
hard.”
She asked if we
wanted something. After putting in my
order, I watched as she and two of the young men walked down the path toward
the dunes, behind which was the concession stand. Just before they were out of eyeshot, I saw
Lo stop and untie the halter-top of her bikini and ask one of the men to fix it
for her. He was fixing it from behind
while the other guy was in front of her.
The guy fumbling with the stings “accidentally” lost his grip of them,
letting the top fall. Lo laughed as she
pulled it back up. Down it went again as
she tried to pass the string to Mr. Butterfingers. They all laughed as Lo covered her breasts
with her arm. They retied the knot and
walked on. They were away for a long
time.
When Lo got back
from the concession stand, Lo asked me to go into the ocean with her. “Where’s my snack?” I asked, expecting that
she would at least bring it back.
“Whoops!” she said
with a smile. “I got a bit. . .
distracted. Come with me in the water
and I’ll tell you about it,” she said, up to no good. I gave her an angry look, but she’s knows I
can’t be cross with her for long.
I followed her to
the deep blue sea. The water was
warm. We were relatively alone at that
part of the beach and I carried Lo in my arms.
When we got out to the point where I could still stand, but was lifted
as the waves crested, Lo kissed me passionately.
“Wow!” I said,
surprised.
“Feel me, Daddio,”
she said, moving my hand between her legs.
“Am I wet?”
“Lo. We’re swimming. In the ocean.”
She smiled. “Oh, trust me, I’m wet.”
“What were you up
to?”
“Nothing.”
She kissed me
again.
“Lo, I know you
were up to something. I saw your little
ploy to flash them your tits.”
“You
saw that, Daddio?”
“Yes.”
“What
else did you see?”
“That’s it. You disappeared behind the dunes. You were away for a long time, while I
patiently waited for my snack. No snack
came back.”
“Oh,
you’ll get your snack,” she said. “Your
snack will be coming soon.”
She
kissed me again. It was like she was
drunk on sunshine, shore, and attention.
“Finger
me, Daddio.”
I
put my index finger into her slippery hole underwater, beneath her bikini
bottoms.
“Oh,
yeah,” she moaned. “Hurry up. I have to cum.”
“What
were you up to?”
“Let’s
just say that the snow cone was dessert.”
“What
did you do?”
“Both
of them, with my mouth. Are you mad?”
“Oh,
that’s why you were so salty. I thought
it was just the sea water.”
She
moaned. Beneath the rolling waves I felt
her pussy clench on my finger. She
came.
“Do
you think Mark knows?” she asked when her momentary ecstasy was at an end.
“Why
would he know?”
“You
think he thinks I’m a slut?”
“He
has no reason not to.”
“Good.”
“Why
do you tease these poor married men?”
“I
just like being an inspiration to people.”
“You’re
so altruistic.”
“I
think so. I really hope that they’ll go
home tonight and fuck like banshees.”
“But
you know that she isn’t up for it.”
“Well,
then I hope they’ll go home and after she falls asleep, he’ll make himself cum
five times next to her in the bed to the thought of me today at the beach.”
“And
you’re going to cum to that thought at least five times in the shower tonight,
won’t you?”
“If
not before.”
Her
orgasm achieved, we swam back to shore.
She adjusted her bottoms as we emerged from the water. We walked up to our beach blanket and chairs
and as we approached I could see the guys next to us speaking in hushed tones
and looking at Lo. I could see them
making eye contact with her and her smiling back at them. The two who lucked out were gloating to their
two hard-up companions. I wondered if
Mark and Stephanie could hear them.
When
we got up to the group, one of the guys asked Lo if she’d like to play some
more volleyball now that she cooled off.
“The game was tied up. You’re not
going to leave it that way, are you?” he asked.
“What’s
wrong with being tied up?” asked Lo suggestively.
“I’m
game,” said Mark.
“OK,”
said Lo, “Let’s play.” She and Mark went
over and the six of them volleyed. I saw
Lo running and jumping, bending over in a set-stance like Kerri Walsh. At one point, she ran to hit the ball in the
far corner of the impromptu court. She
missed it. As she fell down and was on
all fours, she crawled to the ball and I thought I saw something that I
wondered if anyone else saw. I wondered
if it was what I thought it was. The
sand between her knees was wet. After
she tossed the ball to Mark she said, “I have to take a break,” and she came
over to me sitting on the towel.
Luckily, Stephanie had gone in the water with her kids and was swimming,
seeming to ignore the action of the court.
“Lo,”
I said, “did you. . .”
“You
saw?!” she asked, mortified.
“So
you did?”
“Yes. Accidentally.
Do you think anyone else saw?”
“Even
if they did, your bathing suit is wet from the ocean. They probably just thought. . .”
“But
Daddio, I gushed. I’m still gushing,”
she said, spreading her legs a bit to show me a burst of clear liquid spraying
onto the towel as she accidentally squirted.
“This is bad!” she said, adding, “But it feels so good.” A look of relief was on her face after her
release.
“Have
some water. Stay hydrated and take it
easy.”
Lo
rolled over on her tum and watched the five guys hitting the ball around.
“Lo,”
I said, “If you don’t want to have any more accidental orgasms, then stop looking
at the eye-candy.”
“I
wish I could,” she said. “Or I wish I
could just get good and fucked right now!”
Lo lay in her
agony only for a little while before Mark quit the game. The guys had lost interest once Lo bowed
out. Mark rejoined us.
Soon
thereafter, Stephanie and the kids came back up and all were ready to go home
for an early dinner.
We
went back to Mark and Stephanie’s place.
Stephanie changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt and Mark manned the
grill, still in his bathing suit.
Lo
was back into her cutoff jeans-shorts and bikini top. No bikini bottoms or panties. She helped Mark with some food prep in the
kitchen before we all sat outside to eat.
The
kids were getting cranky and soon after dinner we left so they could deal with
the inevitable melt-down that we could see coming.
“Match, Cinder & Spark,” great beach reading
On
the ride home Lo said to me, “Did you hear what Stephanie said when Mark
commented about the curls of my hair?
She said, ‘You don’t even notice I have hair.’ But honestly, she doesn’t do anything to keep
herself up and attractive. And she
doesn’t even have a sex-drive.”
“Don’t
you see the pattern?”
“What
pattern?”
“The
pattern: Hunter and his wife, Mark and Stephanie, Carl and Hollis – so many of
them. These youngish hot guys with very attractive
wives and there is just nothing going on.”
“How
is it a pattern?”
“I’m
old enough to have seen the pattern.”
“What
pattern?!” She was getting impatient
with my teasing now.
“Lovely, fun,
free-spirited woman (or so she appears) locks that shit down, puts a ring on
it, gets married, and no sooner than the last piece of wedding cake is put in
the freezer, she chops off her loose long locks, gets a little bob-cut, and
then it begins.”
“What begins?”
“Well, with
different women the timing may vary, but give the domestic bliss a year or so
before she pops out one or two screaming poop-makers and then it’s all
sweatpants and sweatshirts all the time.
A few years of that and then she complains to her husband, ‘You wouldn’t
even notice if I died my hair purple!
You don’t even see me!’”
“You’re being
sexist.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, and I don’t
like it.”
When we got home
it was chilly out. “I’m going to get
into sweatpants and a sweatshirt,” said Lo, “Is that ok with you or won’t you
notice me anymore?”
“Lo, with you it’s
different.”
“How?”
“Cause I know that
you’re always naked under those clothes.”
“Naked and wet.”
“Go take a hot
shower, hop on the bed, put your beach bum up in the air and await your
punishment for your bad behavior today.”
“Really?!” she
said with great anticipation.
“Yes, really.”
“Punishment or
reward?”
“In my mind it’s a
reward. But I know you prefer to think
of it as punishment.”
“You are beautiful.
Your eyes are beautiful. Your
mouth is beautiful. Your breasts are
beautiful. Your cunt is beautiful.”
Lola Down, spread wide
I was reading a message Lo received on her phone from
an admirer of the blog.
“A regular Shakespeare, that one,” I said.
“I think it’s sweet,” she responded, as her left hand
began to fondle her pussy lips under the covers.
“Sweet?! He
left out your hair, your nose, your neck, your shoulders, your tum, your ass,
your legs, your feet, and your toes!”
“I’m sure he was going to get there,” she said
matter-of-factly.
“Can I get there?” I asked, sounding a bit desperate
for affection, or her attention.
“Get where?” she asked, playing with me.
“Anywhere.
Between your legs, ideally.”
“Let’s see where this goes,” she said about her
internet friend, unfortunately, and not about my bid for her caress.
“I know where this
goes,” I said, putting her hand on my hard rod.
I was hard because her internet friend had sent a slew of photos of
himself jacking off to her pics and cumming all over them. She looked good in the sexy photos.
“Daddy,” she said, protesting, “I’m busy trying to
please my loyal fans.”
“I don’t mind, as long as you do it while spreading
your legs.”
“I’m spreading the love.”
“Can you spread the love wide enough for me to get in
on it?”
“Your pussy looks pretty and gorgeous,” wrote another
fan.
“It is pretty, gorgeous, wet and waiting to be
filled,” she wrote back.
“Me, me!” I said, “Pick me.”
“Calm down, Daddio,” she said, full of vanity fed by
her fans’ flattery.
“Tell me more about you,” wrote another internet
correspondent.
“Read the books,” typed Lo, “There’s
too much to tell and too many people to tell it to.”
“You’re hard, girl,” responded the inquirer.
“Funny, everyone tells me I’m easy,” quipped Lo, “and
that makes them hard.”
“I love your stories,” wrote one female fan.
“H.H. writes. I
inspire,” wrote Lo to her.
“Do you inspire with your body?”
“And my wit.”
“I’m inspired right now!” I said to Lo as I grabbed my
cock firmly. “They all are cumming to
you. Can I cum to you?”
“Cum to, on, in, with, over, under, around, beside – I
provide the pussy. You pick the
preposition,” she said, dismissively.
I got up on my knees and stood over her, jacking my
cock.
“Just don’t cum on my phone,” she said as she
continued to scroll through her contacts.
She continued to fondle herself beneath me for a while
before she said, “Daddio, lie down next to me.
I’ll help you.”
I lay down and she grabbed me by my shaft. “I’m your righthand man,” I said as she jacked
me off with her right and scrolled with her left.
“My wife is nothing like you,” wrote one desperate,
sad husband.
“You two should
read our blog together. It would open up
her mind. . . and pussy.”
“I could never
suggest it,” he wrote, “she’d freak!”
“But you like it?”
asked Lo.
“God yes,” he
sighed through the medium of type.
“Tell me what a young, sexy, slutty person such as
myself does for you.”
“I’d love to eat your yummy, sloppy, used, cum-filled
holes,” he wrote.
“Another bard!” I opined sarcastically.
“Shut up and cum,” commanded Lo as she tugged more
aggressively.
“Are you in a rush?” I asked.
“Both hands are full,” she said, “leaving nothing for
my snatch.”
“I’ll happily fill that gap.”
“You stay right where you are,” she ordered.
“Has she ever caught you jacking off?” wrote Lo to her
married man.
“No. It would
be a big deal if she did. It would be an
even bigger deal if she caught me jacking off to you and not to porn.”
“I am porn,” protested Lo.
“I mean, it’s one thing to get off to anonymous,
vacuous, impersonal, professionally produced porn and it’s quite another thing
to get off to you.”
“That’s more like it,” responded Lo.
“That’s it, I’m getting up and out of bed,” I said.
“But nooooo.”
“Yes. You’re
just treating my cock like it a joystick to your favorite video game.”
“A game I always win.”
She continued stroking.
“Are you into length or girth?” asked her internet
interloper.
“I’m into cock.
And cock gets into me.”
“Once again, I must protest!” I said. “You’ve got a very capable, compatible, and
coveted cock right here, but you’re not letting it into you!”
“What, ole man, my right hand isn’t enough for you?”
“Not when you’re teasing those guys about how fast and
loose you like to play.”
A new fan chimed in, “I
have to stop sinning. I’m religious,
that’s why I can’t go on doing this.”
“Sex is
spiritual. And I’m a sex goddess. Worship at my alter,” replied Lo.
“Now you’re
offering theology lessons?” I chided.
“No. Just encouraging them to be good
semenarians.”
“That was
terrible. Low hanging fruit,” I replied.
She cupped
my testicles and said, “Very low hanging.”
“Oh, does your wit never cease?!”
Now
she squeezed my balls to show me that I had better be careful about mocking
her.
Another
woman asked Lo if she liked taboo tales.
To which Lo responded, “How
taboo are we talking here?”
The woman said she was into watersports and bestiality.
Lo wrote back, “Let’s knot.”
“Don’t you mean. . . oooooh, I get it,” I said.
“Woof!” she said to me.
The woman, whose name was Mila Beijne., went on to tell a little story.
I was a model a
few years back and after doing a shoot I was talking a bit with the
photographer, the lighting guy and his assistant. They invited me to their home. I trusted them and liked them. We were all horny and I was willing, I admit. At the photographer’s home we had some drinks
and then they slowly undressed me. They
got naked too. They were all good looking men and one was really hung. They
kissed me everywhere and started fucking me in my mouth, pussy, and ass. I was very horny. After quite a long time,
they changed positions, each taking a different hole. Then they rotated again and fucked me a long
time again till I was exhausted. They
filled me up in every place they could. But
the fun was not over yet. One put me on
the floor and the other started urinating over me. Then the other two joined in.
It was a lot and all over my body and in
my long hair. There was no shower, so it
was a special experience driving home.
It was my first time doing that and I liked how the act showed their dominance
over me.
Mila asked to be included.Mila B. through the years
I could see Lo getting increasingly more excited as she read the short little story from Mila. She quickly wrote back, “Yeah, HH does that to me. I love it. Being below him, feeling his warm stream flow over my back and butt.”
“We haven’t done that in a while,” I
reminded her.
She ignored me because another fan
had written to her. This guy was
old. I mean, like twenty years older
than I and I’m in my 50’s! His name was
Bob and he wrote:
Hi Lola, and thank you!
You are an inspiration to me. I
hope you can give me some advice.
I’m in my 70’s and I’ve been in a relationship for over 25 years. No passion or sex for the last 20 years. I’m at a loss as it has become impossible to
talk about it with her. I’ve made the
mistake of combining our lives and living situations this whole time. It has become all about her for the last
several years. I feel I’m too old to
begin another relationship with a woman, yet I still admire all women and all
that I see on your blog. I’ve even
become curious about men as I feel that may be the only way to explore my
unresolved sexual fantasies. Yet I’m
still conflicted as I long for an intimate relationship that I’ve missed in my
life.
Do you have any suggestions??
Lola wrote back, “To tell you the truth, Bob, I’m just good wanking material, but I’m not a sex coach or a sex therapist. You might want to check out one of these trained professionals to get some expert advice on having more sex with spirit.” She provided a link. Then she added, “But if you’re looking for a real hotwife, cum to me.”
“What?!” I said to her, shocked that
she’d even offer that to him.
She ignored me and
typed, “I have a very soft spot for old married men whose wives no longer have
sex with them. Would you like to see
it?”
Of course he said
yes. Lo sent him a naughty pic of the
place between her legs that she was denying to me.
“Lo, that’s just
cruel!” I said.
“What? Soon you’re going to be that old and you’d
want the same from me. Wouldn’t you?”
“What’s cruel is
that I’m that old man who is being denied right now!”
“If what I’m
giving you isn’t good enough, then take matters into your own hands,” she
said.
As
she said it, another married man was singing her praises in a message that
read, “I’ve come to worship your holy holes.”
“See,”
she said, “I’ve got fans who know how to woo me.”
“Woo
you? They worship you!”
“What’s
the difference?”
After
some flirtatious back-and-forth, Lo asked to see a pic of the man’s wife.
He
asked why she wanted to see that and Lo responded, “I like to see who I’m
beating out when guys are beating off to me.”
The
guy sent a photo. His wife was
beautiful. But apparently she lacked the
‘personality’ of Lo. He wanted to know
more about Lo and he asked her questions.
“I’m
like an open book, there for anyone to read,” she responded, “You just have to
know where to find me. Are you familiar
with the Dewey Decimal system?”
“Like, in the library?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I can find you in my local
library?”
“If only,” wrote Lo, “I’m indexed
under XXX.”
“As in 30?” he wrote with a winkface
emoji. “Still pretty young.”
“Pretty, young, and slutty. I’ll tell you what, you can virtually finger
my folios at: mysexlifewithlola.com,” she said, “and you can also buy the books
there. I suggest you get a few copies of
each and donate the extras to your local library so everyone can spread my
centerfold for free.”
As Lo was typing, she guided my cock
to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the tip. She looked up at me as her hand continued to glide
back and forth from the base to her mouth.
I began to cum and she hungrily held me in place so as not to spill a
drop. I was so worked up that I couldn’t
control my convulsions. I began
breathing deep, heavy breaths. Lo looked
up at me and said, “What?! Are you having
a stroke?”
When I finally managed to catch my breath, I looked
down at her and said, “Yeah, I’m having a stroke. A really good stroke.”
Lo
wrote a final line to her fans: “Good night all you kinky sexy rogues. Dream of me in your debauched nocturnal
thoughts.”
She put her phone down, grabbed her Hitachi, lay back,
shut her eyes, and began vibrating until she was the one violently convulsing,
squirting, and gasping for air.
When she was done and had removed the Magic Wand from
between her legs, she grabbed my hand and placed it on her bare pussy for me to
feel how wet she was. She’s proud that
she can turn on the tap almost at will.
“Pull my pussy lips, Daddy,” she said. I stretched them. “Harder.”
I pulled more. “Harder Daddy,”
she complained.
“Lo, if I pull them any further they’ll be down to
your knees.”
“Try it,” she said.
She likes the pain or pleasure.
As I pulled I asked her, “What were you thinking about when you came?”
“I think about you.”
This line from her was as false as Marlow telling Kurtz’s
betrothed that Kurtz’s last words were her name.
“OK, that’s enough of that,” I said, calling
bullshit. “What did you really think about?”
“I think about you,” she said. “And I think about cock. I think about a lot of cock.”
“That’s it?”
“And pussy.”
I gave up there knowing that the
litany of licentious thoughts could go on endlessly. I sat silently and she mistook my silence for
judgment.
“You don’t know
what it’s like to be me!” she blurted out defensively.
“Oh yeah, you’ve
got it so hard,” I said sarcastically.
“I wish,” she said
even more sarcastically as she lifted up my flaccid member in her hand.
“You know,” I said, “your porn persona and your
personality are not consistent.”
“What are you talking about?”
“All those people out there thinking you’re a
nymphomaniac, thinking that I am so inundated with your pussy that I barely can
find a moment’s peace, yet the reality is that you denied me just now.”
“There’s no inconsistency.”
“How not?”
“Because I know you’re going to write about this and
so it will be part of my porn persona.”
My
good friend John from Seattle and his three sons (ages twelve through eighteen)
came over to visit while they had winter break.
They were in our town looking at colleges for the oldest and enjoying a
bit of vacation – skiing, museums, historical sites. I hadn’t seen John for a couple of years and
I was glad that, instead of booking a hotel, he asked to stay with us for the
four days they were here. I suppose I
should have known, however, that having all that testosterone under one roof
would drive Lo wild.
It’s
hard to keep Lo’s libido under wraps in the best of circumstances, but fill the
house with four male guests, three of whom need to sleep in the living room,
and, well, keep on reading.
One of the days that John and the boys were visiting, Lola came home from teaching her night class at the local community college where she has been guest lecturing on sex and sexuality in the Woman’s Studies department. She walked in the door in her knee-high black leather boots with the tall heels and her hip-hugging tight red dress. She looked. . . voluptuous. She said a quick hello and then grabbed a glass of Cabernet and joined us in the living room where the boys were sitting, playing games or texting on their smart phones or iPads, and John and I were quietly talking.
“I’m
so disgusted!” Lo began.
“What? What happened? Did class not go well?” I inquired.
“I
know it sounds ridiculous for a woman in her twenties to say it, but honestly,
kids these days!”
“What
happened?” asked John.
The boys turned their attention to Lo. Or, rather, they had looked up from their blue-glowing technology the moment Lo walked in the door and now Lo had their rapt attention. She sat on the couch and said, “Not that many years ago, when I was an undergrad, I wouldn’t have even thought of texting during class. I mean, yes, I would be on my laptop and not always taking notes, but isn’t it a sign of disrespect to openly text during a class?”
“Don’t
you have a policy against it or something?” I asked.
“Yes,
of course I do! But these two guys in
the front row – they are on their phones the whole time. They’re texting and even passing their phones
back-and-forth between them. I’ve said
something to them privately. I’ve called
them out before the whole class. Now I’m
done. I’ll just fail them.”
“It
would suck to fail at sex,” John quipped.
“You
teach about sex?” asked his middle boy.
“It’s
more than just sex – it’s about consent, the media, law, intersectionality,” Lo
began, but she lost his attention after the word sex.
We
talked a bit more and then the boys asked if they could watch some TV. To my great surprise, they wanted to watch
“Gilmore Girls” on Netflix.
“Really?”
I asked. “That show was popular like
twenty years ago.”
“Let’s
be real, it never was popular,” said Lo.
“You
used to watch it?” I asked.
“On
occasion.”
“So
why do you boys want to see it? Isn’t it
like a chick-lit show?”
“HH,
you’re so gender-conforming. Not
everything breaks down easily along gender-roles,” said Lo sarcastically, with
a hint of irony in her eyes as she spoke to me.
“Why
don’t you let the boys answer?” I shot back.
“Haven’t
you heard,” asked one of them, “they’re bringing ‘Gilmore Girls’ back.”
“What?”
I asked.
“Yeah,
like ‘Arrested Development’ and ‘The X-Files,’ it’s making a comeback on
Netflix.”
“Oh.”
I said, learning something new, “but that doesn’t explain the appeal to you,” I
said to the boys.
“It’s
a good show,” they said as they clicked it on.
“Watch and you’ll see.”
We
watched a couple of episodes together as we ate some Chinese food we had had
delivered.
Around
midnight we went to bed and, in the bedroom, Lo removed her tight red dress
revealing that all she had on under it was her bra.
“No
panties?” I asked.
“I
can’t take the chance of panty-lines in this dress – not with a room full of
students watching my every move.”
“Don’t
you think that that can be a bit distracting?”
“What
do you mean?” she asked as she slipped out of her bra and stood naked, looking
at herself in the mirror.
“You
know what I mean. You’re just fishing
for a compliment.”
She
batted her eyelashes at me and asked, “Aren’t I just the sort of bait that
would lure compliments?”
“That
you are.”
“Well,
what are you waiting for?”
“Don’t
you think that the class will be studying your every curve if you wear dresses
like that?”
“Like
what?”
“Let’s
just say that a dress like that on a body like yours should be enough to
distract anyone from their phones.”
“I
have no idea what you mean,” she said disingenuously.
“Haven’t
you ever read ‘The Scarlet Letter’?”
“Yes.”
“Well,
that’s The Scarlet Letter of dresses my dear.”
“So,
you give my dress an ‘A’?”
“Ugh.”
“What
do you think of me without my dress?”
“Can’t
you tell?” I asked, displaying for her my member standing at attention.
“Though
your sign language is easy enough to interpret, tell me. I like your words.”
“I
think your breasts look pretty and perky.”
“Go
on,” she said as she pulled and twisted her nipples, running her fingers over
them to make them even more erect.
“And
your shoulders are incredibly strong and sexy.”
“More.”
This
went on for some time with me complimenting the small of her back, her smooth
legs, her elegant feet. Then she said,
“You haven’t even mentioned my butt. I
mean, even I want my butt. If I could be with me, I would fuck my
butt.”
Finally
she got into bed and said, “Don’t you want to fuck my butt?”
“That
I do!”
I
got behind her as she was on all fours and she licked her finger and ran it
round her special spot as if pointing out the target. “Go ahead, Daddio, but be slow and gentle.”
As
I began to penetrate her, she moaned aloud.
“Lo,
shhhh. We have guests.”
I
ran it in deeper. She moaned louder and
said, “Gentle!”
“Right. Now Shhhh.”
I
lodged myself deep inside her extremely tight spot and she said, “Stay right
there. Does it feel good?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now let me do the work.”
I
remained still as she lunged forward and back, slowly at first, but increasing
in speed like a locomotive beginning to pull away from the station.
“You
know, Lo,” I whispered, “I have a distinct image in my mind.”
“And
what’s that?” she said as she was slowly churning away.
“Those
two boys sitting in the front row of your class, showing each other the texts
on their phones that you told us about. . .”
“Yeah?”
“I
like to think that they found your photos on the internet and now they’re
looking at them as you teach.”
“RED!”
she said, referring to our fantasy rule of The Raunchy Game. Red means, nope, you just crossed a
line. “That’s my worst nightmare,” she
said, “stop right there.”
Despite
her words, I could feel her orgasm beginning to surface. Not wanting to lose the moment, I said,
“Well, I can also imagine them sitting in the front row surreptitiously taking
your picture with their phones or their computers or something and then saving
the pics for later and jacking off to them in their dorm room.”
Lo
was coaxing the orgasm and sliding on-and-off my cock, forward-and-back. “Yessss,” she moaned. “Do you think they jack off to the pics
together?”
“I
wouldn’t doubt it,” I said. “I bet they
do it every night after class.”
“My picture’s
worth a thousand orgasms,” she said as she came, quite loudly.
When she was done,
the two of us were lying on our backs looking up into the darkness of the
room. “Can I ask you a weird question?”
I asked.
“I love your weird
questions.”
“When we were
watching ‘Gilmore Girls’ tonight, did you sense something odd about it?”
“Besides the fact
that it’s always Friday, the town has
five people that live in it, Emily and Richard Gilmore are cliché cutouts of
‘rich people’ and that every problem on the show is a privileged white-person
problem?”
“Yeah, besides all
that.”
“Like what?”
“Well, Rory has
these two boyfriends, Jess and Dean, and what are they? – sixteen, seventeen?”
“I guess,” she
answered, lying on her back, her eyes closed.
“And each of them
keeps ending up in scenes alone with her mother, Lorelai, who’s all of
thirty-two.”
“What are you
saying?” Lo asked, her fingers clearly moving up and down under the covers
between her legs.
“I’m saying that I
think there’s some subtext going on.”
“Fuck me and tell
me,” she insisted, spreading her legs as she lay on her back.
I got between her
wet thighs and entered her. I held her
tightly and whispered, “Lorelai was a MILF before that term was invented.”
Never one to miss
an opportunity to correct me, she said, “Darling, I think MILF was invented
then. You just hadn’t heard about it until much later.”
“Whatever,” I
said, “the point is, that’s exactly what she’s supposed to be and then these
strapping young men have all these one-on-one scenes with her in the house,
alone. Don’t you think they’re
suggesting something?”
“I’d like to see
that play out,” she said as her breath quickened. “When I reach my thirties, I hope I’m a
MILF.”
“Darling, you
don’t have kids and you’re already a NILF.
A nymphomaniac that I’d. . .”
“Do you think
that’s how they see me?” she asked, ambiguous as to whom she meant, but it
didn’t matter, she was already cumming.
Successful in my
duty, I gave myself permission to climax with her, but, sensing my imminent
orgasm, she said, “No! Don’t cum!” She insisted that I save it just as I was
about to reach the pinnacle of my performance.
I
kept on keeping on in her.
“I
said no!” she yelled, pulling her body away.
“What
the fuck?!” I said in an angry whisper, very frustrated, very aggrieved. Whereas I am frequently all for edging,
keeping my Chi to myself, sometimes I need a release and releasing in Lo is the
best release.
I
turned over, lay flat on my back on the bed, tried to catch my breath as Lo,
who had already cum twice, grabbed my member, licked it clean, and then kissed
her way up to my mouth.
“Why
can’t I cum?” I asked.
“Don’t
you know by now?”
“No.”
“I
like you to stay hard because you never know when I’m going to need your dick
again.”
“Oh,
I know all right.”
“You
do?”
“Yes. You always need it.”
“That’s
true. So, keep it cocked and ready so
that it is fully loaded at a moment’s notice.”
Sure
enough, she needed it again later that night.
She woke me from a sound sleep as she was watching some MILF porn on her
phone.
“Why
don’t you just jack it like a real man?” she complained.
“Because
I prefer fucking your flapper to fucking my fist,” I responded.
“But
Daddy,” she said, in a nicer tone now, “don’t you know that I find it hot to see a man masturbating?”
“Any
man, masturbating to anything, or certain men, masturbating to you?”
“I
prefer men to masturbate to me, but seeing any man masturbating to anything
still turns me on,” she said as she was rubbing her puss under the covers. “Please, Daddy, just stoke it for me, over
me, to me.”
“Maybe
I’ll just get my Stoya Fleshlight,” I said, trying to arouse her jealousy so
she’d give herself over to me completely.
“No! If you do, I’ll get out my horse cock dildo
and my Hitachi!”
“That
sounds fair. . . and fun!”
“No,”
she said, “I want you to use your hand and I’ll finger-fuck my holes.”
“Fine,”
I said, more willing to concede due to the prospect of watching her. I pulled down the covers, got between her
legs, grabbed my hard member, and pulled at it for her to see.
“That’s
it Daddio,” she said as she spread her legs wide, began inserting the fingers
of her right hand into her puss and slid her left hand around from underneath
her ass to penetrate her posterior place.
“Did
you make every man you were with masturbate for you?”
“I
didn’t have to make them,” she said.
“They volunteered.”
“Tell
me about it.”
“There
are so many. Which one?”
“Tell
me about Teddy.”
Teddy
was her fuck-buddy in college. A tall, lean,
basketball player with an enormous cock.
“I’d
lie in his dorm room bed and he’d stand over me with his huge black cock right
over my face. It was as long as my
entire head. He’d drop his balls in into
my mouth and grab his rod with both hands.
Both hands!” she said with emphasis.
“He’d stoke it over me as I lay naked on the bed and then, when he came,
he shot all the way down to my knees and covered me with his hot jizz up to my
chin.”
I
could tell that as she told me this story, she was on the verge of climaxing
herself. But she held back.
“Tell
me about Gerald.”
Gerald
was also a college fuck friend. The
opposite of Teddy in every way, except Gerald was also an athlete – a
bodybuilder whose bulging biceps attracted Lo until she found that he had a
micropenis.
“He
was so self-conscious about his size that, no matter how much I wanted to take
him in my mouth, he was resistant. My
natural attraction for women made the prospect of licking that little clit so
appealing, especially since he shaved it and his balls clean. He wore a teensy-tiny speedo when he worked
out. It was like he was wearing panties. I wanted to pleasure him with my lips and
tongue all the time, since I obviously didn’t feel him in either of my holes,”
she said as she fingered both of her holes more deeply.
“Did
he jack it for you?”
“It
was the only way he could cum. He’d pull
that little pimple with his thumb and index finger as he stood over me, just
like Teddy did, and then he’d ejaculate all over my face. It was the only way he could feel dominant.”
“How
often did he do that?”
“Countless
times. It always left me unsatisfied,
but I liked it nonetheless.”
“You
never met a cock you didn’t like.”
“Don’t
stop,” she said, looking at my cock as my stroking slowed. I pulled harder, longer, faster. “That’s it,” she said. Her whole hand was almost fully submerged in
her pussy and two fingers were going at her perineum.
“Tell
me about Tim,” I said. Tim was her beau
before college and, since he was older and Lo significantly younger, sex with
Lo was off-limits for him. That didn’t
mean that Lo didn’t try. Lo always finds
a way.
“He’s
probably the one responsible for my male masturbation mania. The only way he got off was by
masturbating. I would be fully clothed
and saying sexy, naughty, dirty things to him like I’m doing for you right now,
and he would jack it until he came.”
“Where’d
he cum? On your face?”
“No. He’d cum into my hands. I’d hold them out like I was receiving an
offering and then I’d lick them clean like a kitten licking a bowl of
milk. He loved that.”
That
was too much for her. She came and came
hard. Her pussy and sphincter clutching
and contracting on her deeply driven digits before eventually dilating
again. When she recovered, she looked at
me and said, “You didn’t cum.”
“No.”
“That’s
not fair, Daddy.”
“I
don’t think so either,” I said. “Why don’t
you give me a hand-job?”
“Because
I’m going to fall asleep now,” she said.
“That’s
fine, just position your left hand like you’re giving the ‘OK’ sign, and I’ll
do the rest.”
She
complied. I lay next to her and inserted
my cock. She said, “You’re just using me
as a sex object.”
I
didn’t know what to say to that, but luckily she followed up the comment with,
“And I like it. It’s so soothing.”
Reviewing
in my mind’s eye the stories she told, looking at her naked body next to me, I
came and came hard all over her. She had
drifted off to sleep. I grabbed a
washcloth, wet it with warm water, and gently cleaned her off. I kissed her mouth good night and lay next to
her thinking about what a good bad girl she is.
The
next morning I awoke to find her face bobbing up and down on my erect shaft.
“Lo?”
I asked.
She
popped off of my knob and said, “I’m sorry you didn’t cum last night,
Daddy. Let me make it up to you.”
I
didn’t disabuse her of that belief until after she accomplished her mission. When I did, she just said, “You dirty dog!”
“What?”
I asked, innocently. “You told me last
night you wanted me to cum. Was that
just lip service?”
It was one of
those strange April nights when the temperature drops twenty degrees from the daytime
high of 68, the wind rustles up the new buds on the trees outside, and from out
of the darkness, lighting, thunder, and downpours fill the sky. Lola couldn’t sleep. When I got to bed she said, “I’ve tried
everything. I’ve tried meditation,
masturbation, guided meditation, guided masturbation. . .”
“Wait. What is ‘guided masturbation’?”
“Oh,
well, I called up a friend and asked him to tell me how he wants me to
masturbate,” she said as if it were no big deal.
“You
did?”
She
nodded her head in affirmation and pouted saying, “But it didn’t help.”
“I
bet it helped him. Why didn’t you call
me?”
“You
were working hard, Daddy.”
“So?”
I asked, frustrated by the thought that she’d rather hear inappropriate
instructions from one of her suitors than from me.
“Are
you still hard at work?” she asked seductively, rubbing my crotch to gauge my
state of arousal.
“Work
hard, play hard,” I said, as I pulled out my manhood for her to see.
She grabbed it while licking her
lips.
“You
know I’m not just a sex organ,” I said.
“I
think your brain is a sex organ,” she replied as she went down on me.
“In
that case, I have a very large sex organ.”
She
interrupted her activity to look up at me and say, “And growing larger.”
“I’m
not that big,” I said.
“I
meant your ego.”
“I’ll
have you know, I’m very humble.”
“Looks
to me, you have a lot to be humble about,” she said caustically.
“What
do you mean?”
She
pulled down the sheets to reveal her huge horse-cock dildo on the bed next to
her, still glistening.
“I’m
so big, wide, and wet that I wouldn’t feel any bit of you.”
“Care
to test that hypothesis?”
“I’m stretched to my
limit.”
“You have a limit? That’s news to me!”
“‘Limit’ is a flexible term. Like ‘full’ or ‘fucked.’”
“Oh, so it’s elastic?”
“Yeah, it can be used in many
different ways.”
“Depends on who’s using it.”
“Right. It takes a lot of abuse, but it is never
exhausted.”
“Never wears out.”
“Right.”
“Like this terrible pun.”
“What pun?”
“Are we still talking about ‘limit’?”
“I wasn’t, were you?”
“Darling, you certainly do push the
limits.”
“What limits?”
“All of them. But the real question is, why did you call on
some other guy for your ‘guided masturbation’ when you could have called upon
me?”
“So many married men turn to me for
sweet release. I’m a goddess of pussy. I answer to the call of depravity.”
“But you called him!”
“Well, I saw that he had posted a
pic of a cumtribution he had made for another girl and he wrote, ‘For my
beautiful cum slut.’ I called him to
remind him that I am his beautiful
cum slut.”
“You think you’re everyone’s
beautiful cum slut.”
“Well, aren’t I?”
“Everyone but mine, I guess.”
“Oh,
Daddy,” she said, still holding my cock firmly in her hand, “would you make a
cumtribution for me? Would you jack it
to my photos and cum all over them?”
“Lo,
why would I do that when I have you right here, in the flesh?”
“To
show me your unfailing love.”
“Lo,
I write thousands upon thousands of pages of poetry for you, but you’d rather I
grab my masculine member and stroke it until I ejaculate a hot mess over your
image?”
“I
call it giving tribute to my icon.”
“Because
you’re a goddess of pussy.”
“Now
you’re turning me on!”
“Those
are your words.”
“Well,
you feel that way, don’t you?”
“How
could I not, darling. It is the truth.”
“So
you’ll make an offering at my virtual alter?”
“If
you want me to, I will.”
“Now?”
“Whenever
you say.”
“No,
not now. I want you to do it when I’m
away. Now you can enter my holy temple.”
“But
I thought I wouldn’t even feel you.”
“You
won’t and I won’t feel you, but why should that stop us from fucking?”
I
got between her legs and entered her. She
was right – it was like a mere mortal entering the pearly gates. However, that only made it more alluring for
me. She could tell I was getting turned
on.
“Cum inside me,” she said.
“Put your fingers inside you, right where you want me
to cum.”
She inserted almost her whole fist along over my cock
and I could feel her fingering her G-spot.
“There,” she said, “right there.”
I came and came with force all over her fingers. She gripped my cock with her hand inside her
and milked it for every drop.
When I pulled out, she said she was going to clean up. I drifted off on the bed until I heard her
calling out for God from the shower. It
startled me. I navigated the thick cloud
of steam to find her squatting on the shapely bottle of Dove shampoo, rubbing
her clit, and cumming uncontrollably.
(Do they make the bottles that shape for that purpose or did she buy that
brand because of its ergonomic contours?
The questions Lo causes me to ask.)
I disappeared into the fogbank as stealthily as I had
entered it. I went back to the bed. When she climbed in naked next to me, I held
her warm body.
“Just in time,” I said.
“Just in time for what?” she asked.
“Tomorrow is the first of May.”
“Hooray!
Hooray! It’s the first of May!”
she sung, “Outdoor fucking starts today!”
“No, silly,” I said.
“April showers.”
“Oooooh,” she said, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll let you see
my pink flower.”
“Me and the rest of the world.”
“A beautiful flower should not be hidden away to be
seen only by one man.”
