Category Archives: fingering

Autoerotica

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Lo, at it again

            “Come,” I heard her yell from the bedroom down the hall as I walked into the house after a long Friday at work.  She might have been saying “Cum!” to a lover.  There’s never any way to tell from the sound of her voice – only on the page. 

            I cautiously walked down the long hall to the bedroom.  What would I find?

            The door was open a crack.  I peeked in.  She was naked, on her tum, her round rump nicely illuminated by the setting sun.  Her legs were bent at the knees and her bare feet dangled up in the air, twined around each other.  In her hand she held her phone. 

            “Come in, Daddio,” she said without turning her eyes from the screen in front of her. 

            I walked in and removed my jacket and tie. 

            “What you up to?” I inquired.

            “I bet you’d like to know.”

            “That is why I asked,” I said flatly as I removed my shirt and undid my belt. 

            “Get naked, get hard, and get in me,” she commanded.

            “I’m already hard,” I said.

            “As you should be,” she replied, moving her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers and then moving her hand to her ass and circling her wet fingers around her special spot. 

            “Oh,” I commented, “You want it like that?”

            “No, Daddio,” she said, “I’m just enjoying myself.”

            Always coy when it comes to her ass.  Always for someone else, or for her own pleasure, but never for me. 

            I got behind her and tried to look at her phone by leaning forward over her back and seeing over her shoulder. 

            “Get up there and fuck me,” she instructed, her finger still rounding her sweet spot as I slid into her puss.  “I’ll tell you what I’m looking at.”

            I did as she said and she told me that a fellow blogger, a woman named TJ, wrote to us saying, “I love reading your blog.  It gets me so wet.”

            “Really?!  Do I know this TJ?” I asked as I thrusted harder.

            “She writes The Lustful Empress.”

            I slowed down a bit trying to remember which erotic blog that was.

            “Don’t stop!” Lo said as her hand grabbed the girth of my cock and she pushed her ass back into my hips, bouncing off of my bare bodkin. 

            I resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding. 

            “Look,” she said, putting her phone up on her back for me to read the email.  It said:

I love how accepting you are of Lola’s magnificent sexuality. You guys seem to have ‘it’ don’t you? I wish I could masturbate as openly as you do, Lola. I feel self-conscious, like an addict or something. But I fucking love fucking myself. . . it’s the best. I am more autosexual than anything else I think. Keep celebrating each other.

Fan mail like that makes it all worth it.  Well, that’s not completely true.  I know that I would be writing all this whether no one read it, or only one person read it – Lola.  But knowing that others read it, enjoy it, and get off to it is the icing on the cake. 

            Speaking of icing, as I read the email, Lo began to climax as one hand worked her ass and the other, from underneath, worked her clit.  Her Kegel muscles contracted and I was squeezed out of her as she curled into a convulsing, throbbing ball, squirting uncontrollably.  The more she pushed her knees up to her breasts in a tightly bound fetal position, the more she sprayed the bed and my knees.  I lifted up her phone to prevent it from being ruined by the liquid. 

TJ, author and model of The Lustful Empress, getting off to Lo

            “Fuuuu-uuuuck,” she groaned as the last bit of lady juice spurted out of her.

            When she regained control of her limbs, she slowly got up and pulled the soaked sheets with her, dropping them in the laundry basket.  “I’ll clean up, Daddy, but right now I have to get ready.”

            “Ready for what?” I asked, holding my throbbing, hard rod in my hand.

            “My date.”

            “Date?”

            “With Robert.  I told you, didn’t I?”

            I just looked dumbfounded. 

            “We’re going to the movies.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what are you seeing?”

            “The Favourite.”

            “Is he your favorite now?” I asked, demoralized.

            “No, Daddio, she said, caressing me and looking up at me with those beautiful big brown eyes.  “That’s the name of the movie.  It’s a period piece.”

            “Really?  Not a porno?”

            “Well, I hear it has a lot of woman-on-woman sex scenes.”

            “I knew it!”

            “But that’s not why we’re going to see it.”

            “You’re going to see it to have sex in a crowded theater.”

            “Oh, Daddy, you always impute to me the most debased of motives.”

            “So why are you going to see it?”

            “It’s historical.  It has great sets, acting, and costumes.”

            “And?”

            “And probably to fuck in a dark theater.”

            “Don’t get caught.”

            “But getting caught is at least half the fun.  Does that make you jealous?” she asked, as her hand stroked my hard cock. 

            “So you’re leaving me home alone on a Friday night?”

            “Not totally alone,” she said, “You have TJ.”

            “Who?”

            “TJ, the woman from the blog.”

            “Oh, right,” I said to my consolation prize.

            Lola made the bed and I watched her tits droop as she bent over to tuck in the sheets.  Her naked body moved like a delightful dance as she unfurled the blanket. 

            “Look,” she said, as she hopped back in the bed and took up her phone.  I sat next to her.  Her left hand stroked my hard erection up and down as she scrolled through TJ’s blog with her right hand. 

            We read and looked at the photos together. 

Lola
TJ of The Lustful Empress

            “She sounds like she could be your twin sister,” I said as I read about how TJ becomes aroused by her own naked body. 

            “Hold this,” she said, giving me the phone. 

            Now, with her right hand she was stroking her pussy and I scrolled through the blog. 

            “Oh boy,” I said, “You want her.” 

            Lo bit her lower lip.

            “Lo,” I cautioned, “You just made the bed.  You don’t want to. . .”

            Before I could finish my sentence, she had jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before releasing her ejaculate all over the tile floor with a scream. 

            When she had regained her composure, she got some paper towels and got on her hands and knees to clean up the mess. 

            “What time is your movie?”

            “Eight,” she called back.  “But we’re meeting for drinks first.”

            “Well, you’re going to be late,” I told her. 

            She jumped in the shower and I continued to look at the blog, hard up. 

            “Hey,” she called to me, “you’re not allowed to cum.  You know that, right?”

            “I still don’t understand how that is fair,” I said, taunting her.

            I got up and looked at her in the shower.

            “Get!” she screamed.  She hates when I see her in her shower cap. 

            “How is it fair that you get to cum twice and then go on a date with another man and I’m not allowed any autoerotica myself?”

            “First,” she said from behind the shower curtain, “it’s not autoerotic if you use someone else’s pictures.  Second, you didn’t count the three times I came before you got home.”

            “Lo, now you’re just. . .”

            “And third,” she cut me off, “this has nothing to do with fairness.  It has everything to do with me.  What I want.  What I allow you.  Got that?  Don’t forget it.”

            Lo jumped out of the shower and hastily dried off before slipping into a blue dress and blue heels.  No panties. 

            “You’re going to be cold like that,” I cautioned.

            “I’m planning on things heating up quickly,” she said. 

            Soon enough she was out the door, leaving me alone. 

            I scrolled through TJ’s blog, which I recalled I had seen before, and I thought to myself, “She said no cumming, but she didn’t say no edging.” 

            I spent about an hour going through each and every post before I thought to myself, “If I don’t stop this right now, I’m going to explode!” 

Stoya Left, Lola Right

            In order to take the edge off, I switched to photos of Lo, which are always fair game, and I pulled out the old Stoya Fleshlight.  Lubing up Stoya and myself, I imagined what Lo was up to with Robert.  I didn’t even need to see Lo’s photos.  Soon enough I was cumming and cumming hard and deep in Stoya’s pussy, just thinking about Lo in a dark theater, legs spread, and Robert discretely moving his hand up her smooth thigh until reaching that wet pussy, pulsating with anticipation.  Gently he would rub and flick her pussy lips, clandestinely making her cum.  I pictured her hands gripping the seat and her upper teeth biting down on her bottom lip to prevent the scream from escaping her mouth.  That was enough to bring me over the edge and release me into a deep sleep. 

Cums, Shoots, & Leaves

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More!

            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.”

Hot & Cold

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Oh, Hi!

            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. 

Wordless, Intimate Erotic Lovemaking

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Lusty Lola

            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. 

Lovelorn, Loveporn

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            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.”

Sun-Kissed

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Beach Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “What accidents?” I asked, naively. 

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

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

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

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

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

She was a fast machine,

She kept her motor clean

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

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

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

She had a certain size,

Telling me no lies,

Knocking me out with those American thighs.

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

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

Taking more than her share,

She had me fighting for air,

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

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

She wanted no applause,

Just another course,

Made a meal out of me,

And came back for more.

Had to cool me down

            To take another round,

            Now I’m back in the ring

            To take another swing!

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

Shower Time

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

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

“I’m sure they do,” I said.

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

“I think they really liked what they saw.”

“And I liked what I saw.”

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

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

“You mean old.”

“Not old.”

“Older than me.”

“Yeah, but in such good shape.”

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

“And so big.”

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

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

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

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

“Did you cum when you were out there?”

“I think I might have, a little bit.”

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

Beach Bum

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4


            “Was I bad, Daddy?”

            “Yes.”

            “Am I a slut?”
            “Yes.”

            “Then fuck me like one.”

            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.”

“I love that you know me so well, Daddy.” 

The Porn Identity

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9

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

Lola Down, spread wide

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anywhere.  Between your legs, ideally.”

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

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

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

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

“I’m spreading the love.”

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

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

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

“Me, me!” I said, “Pick me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you inspire with your body?”

“And my wit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you like it?” asked Lo.

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

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

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

“Another bard!” I opined sarcastically.

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

“Are you in a rush?” I asked.

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

“I’ll happily fill that gap.”

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

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

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

“I am porn,” protested Lo.

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

“That’s more like it,” responded Lo.

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

“But nooooo.”

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

“A game I always win.”

She continued stroking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, does your wit never cease?!”

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

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

The woman said she was into watersports and bestiality.

Lo wrote back, “Let’s knot.”

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

“Woof!” she said to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do you have any suggestions??

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

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

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

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

“Lo, that’s just cruel!” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

            “Woo you?  They worship you!”

            “What’s the difference?”

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

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

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

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

            “Like, in the library?”

            “Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think about you.” 

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

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

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

“That’s it?”

“And pussy.”

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

“There’s no inconsistency.”

“How not?”

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

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Orgasms

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The Red Dress

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

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

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

            “I’m so disgusted!” Lo began.

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

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

            “What happened?” asked John. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “You used to watch it?” I asked.

            “On occasion.”

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

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

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

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

            “What?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

            “No panties?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

            “That you are.”

            “Well, what are you waiting for?”

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

            “Like what?”

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

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

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

            “Yes.”

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

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

            “Ugh.” 

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

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

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

            “I think your breasts look pretty and perky.”

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

            “And your shoulders are incredibly strong and sexy.”

            “More.”

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

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

            “That I do!”

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

            As I began to penetrate her, she moaned aloud. 

            “Lo, shhhh.  We have guests.”

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

            “Right.  Now Shhhh.”

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

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  Now let me do the work.” 

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

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

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

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

            “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love your weird questions.”

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

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

“Yeah, besides all that.”

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            I kept on keeping on in her. 

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

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

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

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

            “Don’t you know by now?”

            “No.”

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

            “Oh, I know all right.”

            “You do?”

            “Yes.  You always need it.”

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

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

Mano a Mano

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            “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?”

            “No it wasn’t.  But what I just did for you was.”