Category Archives: Flirt
Introducing Elizabeth Wylde
“Lizzy, the book got returned,” Lola said as she sat on the couch, playing with her cooch.
I could hear Lizzy, that is, Elizabeth Wylde, on the other end of the phone let out a moan of disappointment.
“They won’t deliver to P.O. boxes. What should we do?”
“Try this address,” said Lizzy, telling Lo where to have the book shipped. “It’s my aunt and uncle’s house, but they won’t mind.”
Lo laughed. “You sure? What if they open it accidentally?”
Lizzy also laughed and said, “That would be a tough one to explain.”
About two weeks later the book, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts, arrived for Aunt and Uncle Wylde. They didn’t open it, but they were curious. They called Lizzy and she came over one Sunday to pick it up.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” asked Auntie Wylde.
“Nah, I know what it is.”
“What is it, Lizzy?”
“A book for work.”
“Work?” asked Uncle Wylde.
Now Lizzy got herself into it. Lizzy’s work, you see, is sexy phone chat.
“Yes,” she responded, “work.”
“I thought you were out of work since the pandemic started,” inquired her aunt.
“I’ve picked up a job I can do out of the house.”
“Really? And what is that?”
Lizzy had to think quick on her feet. “Customer service. . . for BJs. I make sure everyone gets what they want.”
“Oh, so I might get you next time a package is lost?”
“You might,” said Lizzy, laughing to herself.
“So, what is that?” asked her uncle, returning to the rectangular shaped package in Lizzy’s hands.
“Instruction manual.”
“Don’t they have that online?”
“Top secret. The internet isn’t to be trusted,” said Lizzy.
Luckily, she managed to get out of that jam without opening the book in front of them.
She quickly drove home, stripped naked, hopped into bed, and opened up her literotically Lola paperback.
Just as she was about to feast upon the non-fiction fuckery, her work phone rang. It was Henry, a regular client. At his request, Lizzy told him exactly what she was up to. He requested that she read to him. She opened the book to the middle and began reading the story, “Home Entertainment.” She had no idea what she was in for! As the story progressed, Lizzy realized the taboo topic she had waded into and waded is the right word for she was very, very wet by this point. She could hear Henry moaning on the other end of the line and soon enough both of them were climaxing together to the cadence of the chapter.
When she was done, she pulled out her laptop and added a line to her brief bio:
Hi, I’m Elizabeth Wylde – a sexy, crazy, caring, fun-loving girl who provides erotic phone conversations. I’m a sex addict who channels my issues through making explicit adult content. I love being watched and turning people on, getting them hot, making them cum. In some weird way it’s an exciting accomplishment just knowing that you blow a huge load or squirt by fantasizing about little ole me! Give me a call for some sexy talk or, if you want, I’ll read you a taboo tale from Match, Cinder & Spark – my favorite collection of literary smut.
When she was done, her phone rang again. It was Henry coming back for more.
HERE is Lizzy’s LINKTREE and a few fun photos too!
Protected: Trivia: Life On-Line
Protected: Don’t Fuck Me, Photograph Me!
Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper
[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]
In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.
And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.
It was Sunday and it was hot! Hot and humid. There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets. Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before. Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting. I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.
All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.
Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.
I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.
Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.
“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”
“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.
“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”
“I need something to get me up.”
“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.
“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”
“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”
Suddenly we heard a knock.
“What was that?” I asked.
Lo shrugged her shoulders.
Another knock.
“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door. Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.
I opened the door a crack. A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.
“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom. I live across the way, over yonder.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.
“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard. I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great! We’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sure thing ma’am. Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”
I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.
“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”
“Yes. Why not, Daddy?”
“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”
She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.
“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”
After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house. There was a gate around the backyard.
“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.
“It’s the law,” I said. “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”
“Ah, I get it.”
We walked into the enclosed backyard. By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.
There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini. Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?
“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.
“Hi,” they almost grunted back.
“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked. “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”
One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.
“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked. They were in shorts and t-shirts.
“What?”
“Get naked,” she said plainly.
They did as she said. They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.
Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.
She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.
“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.
The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders. His cock was very close to Lo’s face.
During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool. No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”
When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.
“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”
“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.
“Jerk off! Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”
Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her. That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.
She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.
She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.
She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string. Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.
She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.
Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.
First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin. She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.
When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water. The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.
“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”
They all dove in right quick. They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.
“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool. “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.
“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.
“Suit yourself.”
“More than I can say your suiters have on!”
“Huh? Oh. Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.
After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink. They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo. Ain’t that a twist?
Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”
“Clothes? Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice. Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.
“You sure are.”
“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”
“You got that right,” said one of the guys. When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.
One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.
“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie. I’m good at goaltending.”
“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper. And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”
“No balls! Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”
“Call what – baseball bats?”
“Yeah!”
“Again, wrong sport.”
“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”
“Touché!” I called.
The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola. They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.
Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands. It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands. She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.
We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back. The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”
“Hey!” she called.
“What? You’re down.”
“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop? Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.
Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.
“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a penalty.”
“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.
Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.
“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.
“Gatekeeper? I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”
“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet. I’ve been gatekeeping.”
“You want praise for that? It’s COVID times. You know that.”
“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”
“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.
But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.
We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs. It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.
Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it. I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books. So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it? But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down. Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!
Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography. One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff. I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”
To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola. They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.
It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle. The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.
The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up! In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect. The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.
“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window. “Oh shit!” she said.
“What?” asked one of the guys.
“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”
There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.
“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”
The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”
We filled him in. He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob. I was quite worried. All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.
“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.
Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club. It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.
He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.
“Sure,” she said.
“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day. I was just doing my job.”
“I understand.”
Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.
Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.
“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”
“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”
“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”
“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo. “Would you like to see?” She asked, looking over at the empty stage.
“My own personal show?”
“Yeah. Can you put on some music?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Got any Rihanna?”
“Anything you want.”
“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”
Hagrid put it on. As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me? What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.
“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.
“Thanks,” said Lo. “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”
“What happened?”
“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. We’d treat you right.”
“Oh yeah? How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.
Hagrid was unfazed. He works in a strip club.
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can’t get enough
Must be love on the brain.
The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat. Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.
“We treat the girls right. I can assure you of that.”
Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass. Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”
“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo. “My younger sister strips here.”
“What?! No way?”
“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.
“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.
“Why should she?” he asked, naively.
“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I see her naked and more at home.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”
“Really?”
“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”
“You both live with your parents?”
“No, we have an apartment together.”
“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”
“Yeah. Cheaper that way.”
“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”
“All the time. And women.”
“In her room?”
“In her room, with the door open. In the living room. In the kitchen. It doesn’t really matter to her.”
“I’ve got to meet this woman!”
“You already have.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”
“She’s your sister?!”
“Yep.”
Hagrid looked at his phone.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.
“How’s that?”
“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”
“What?! We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man. Double standard? You better believe it.
Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.
Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.
“You!” said the little sister.
“You!” said Lo right back at her. It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp. Who is who? Does it matter?
Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.
The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me. He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.
“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.
“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt. “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”
“Whatever,” said Hagrid.
The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment. It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room. The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly. The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch. The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it. There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.
On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.
“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.
“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna. “He’s a grown man.”
“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.
I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.
“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”
“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.
“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.
“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.
“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here. They know her. They know all about her. To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”
“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig. Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.
“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class. You’re from the city. You’re not from around here.”
“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom. “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”
“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”
“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”
“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.
I played dumb. Lo spread her legs. Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.
She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”
“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.
“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”
“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.
“You can have it,” continued Luna. “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.
“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.
“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.
Luna put out her hand. “A hundred.”
“What?!”
“It will cost you. One Benjamin.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”
“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.
“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”
“I don’t have a hundred.”
“What do you have?”
He pulled out his wallet. He opened it. He looked in. “A twenty.”
Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened. “It’s a deal.”
Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.
Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen. The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.
“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.
“Sure,” I said.
“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.
Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”
“Perfect,” said Lo.
As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations. The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.
“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.
“Pretty much every night she dances.”
“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”
Hagrid laughed a little. “You saw how little she weighs. She barely pulls that weight. All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka. “And drugs.”
“That’s too bad.”
Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early. It’s out of his control.
“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.
“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple. Lo here, she’s. . .”
“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.
“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.
“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.
“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake. The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.
“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat. “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.” It was hot in that shack. No AC.
“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.
Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.
Luna downed it in one gulp. “More,” she said. Was she talking to Lo or Tom?
Lo filled up the glass again.
“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.
She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.
“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo. Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.
“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.
“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.
Luna just gave him her middle finger.
“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder. It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.
“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her. “It’s still in you.”
“Forget the condom. Fuck my ass.”
“I don’t have another one.”
“FUCK. MY. ASS.”
The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.
“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.
“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”
“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”
“ATV or. . . ?”
“We’ll take my pickup truck.”
“Wait!” said Luna. “I want to go with you.”
The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.
“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.
“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.
“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.
“Because, I want to go.”
“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”
Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.
Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.
“Works every time,” said Luna.
“What does?” asked Lo.
“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”
Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth. I couldn’t help but think, “Wow! What a Lola move!”
When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.
Why were all of us in the back seat? Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.
Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap. Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.
“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.
“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.
“Fuck you!” said Luna.
Luna spread her legs. Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass. Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them. She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself. But then she pulled out her hand.
“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom. She tossed it out the window with a laugh.
We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.
“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.
“No problem. Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.
“Will do!”
“Thanks! Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.
“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits. “Stay slutty!”
“You know I will!”
Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.
The End
Protected: Brass in Pocket
I Need a Dirty Woman, I Need a Dirty Girl
We were into December. It had been almost a month since our last “drive-in” date with Ron and Nicole. In the meantime, they kept up an intense correspondence with us through email. Turns out that they have three kids, all under ten, and she has been dealing with some health issues that have impaired her energy and libido. He is an avid nudist and exhibitionist who loves to go to clothing optional beaches and bare it all! Although he doesn’t have that much to bare. Not to worry, Lo is always intrigued by different shapes and sizes.
Poor Ron was eager to please – his wife and anyone who would have him. Nicole, however, was not so keen on sex. Even before her medical problems dampened her desire, she was not enthusiastic about her sex life with Ron. They had dated since high school. They were raised as good Catholic kids and told not to have sex before marriage. They got married in their early twenties and that’s when Nicole was disabused of the adage “size doesn’t matter.” No. It really did matter for her. But, due to her upbringing, she wasn’t able to think about alternatives. Masturbation, sex toys, other partners were all off the table. She wasn’t even comfortable with having sex in any other position than missionary.
After the birth of their third child and the onset of medical issues, she not only couldn’t feel Ron’s cock, but wasn’t interested in it anymore either.
They had tried a couples’ counselor, a marriage therapist, and now were working with a sex coach. They went to a woman Ron had found on the internet who specializes in Catholic sexuality. She had suggested that they both explore their own bodies alone, with porn, erotica, or whatever excited them. For Ron, that was easy – nude beaches, exposing himself, and being seen, even if only virtually were already in his wheelhouse. He had discovered a number of websites where he could hang-out as much as he wished and no one would be offended.
For Nicole, this was much more difficult because her sexual desire was directly related to her guilt. She required multiple special sessions, one-on-one, with the sexologist. Through the coaching, she slowly learned to appreciate sex and sexuality in a new way. Rather than think of it as a necessary bodily function that had to be endured in order to achieve a certain result, much like relieving oneself in the privy, she was opened up to the idea that sex was sacred, divine, and a sacrament. The Church doesn’t often promote this aspect of sex. Why would they? The officers of the institution are all celibate! It would be like college professors encouraging students to get an education outside of academia.
Slowly, Nicole came round to the notion of at least accepting her sexuality rather than being ashamed of it. And that went for Ron’s sexuality as well – if Nicole could accept that she is a sexual being, then this was the first step to accepting that Ron is also a sexual being. The next step was to realize that sexuality is not experienced or expressed uniformly. It is like the sun – its origin is the same, but how it illuminates various objects depends on the individual make-up of each object. Some are square and green. Others are round and pink and white stripes. Similarly, we all feel sexual urges, but they manifest differently for each of us. For some that means hetero, monogamous, vaginal intercourse. But for others, it can be expressed in a myriad of ways – from men wearing woman’s panties, to women donning strap-ons.
This was a great hurdle for Nicole to overcome. But, along the way, she was willing to try new things for the sake of the relationship. Through Ron’s explorations of the interweb, he found Lola, struck up a correspondence, included Nicole, and eventually we had our first “date,” which I already described for you. Through our correspondence, it became clear that Ron desperately wanted Lo and Nicole desperately wanted to be like Lo.
They were eager to have a second date. Due to COVID, we had to take the same precautions, but we arranged to meet in a remote spot, far outside of our city, so that the experience wouldn’t be foiled again.
Nicole’s medical issues had done things to her body that caused her even more shame. She didn’t want us to be shocked so, in preparation for our second date and to help her become more comfortable with her body (that Ron, incidentally, found very desirable) she posed for some boudoir photos taken by her husband. They emailed them to us.
“Do you still want to do this?” she asked, afraid we’d be turned off by how gravity distorted her once toned and tight flesh.
“Yes!” replied Lo, enthusiastically. “Every body is beautiful in its own way.”
Much was the same on our second date as it was on the first. Cold. Late night. Dark, vacant parking lot. The two cars parked next to each other. But this time Lo had put some thought into the “performance” she wished to put on for the struggling couple. She stripped naked and danced seductively in front of their headlights. They had on their high-beams and, thanks to the chill, Lo’s were on too!
Lo sauntered up to the passenger side window where Nicole sat and pressed her tits up against the glass. Nicole and Ron had removed their clothing too and Lo could get an imperfect view of them behind the frosted glass and through the round figure eight where her tits had melted the icy coating.
Lo returned to the car where we had the heat blasting and took out her phone. She called Ron. Their phone was on speaker, as was ours.
“Did you like what you saw?” Lo asked.
“Very much,” replied Ron.
“Are you hard?” asked Lo.
“As hard as I can get,” he said.
“Yeah, I saw. Two inches?”
“Slightly longer than that, when I’m hard.”
“I’m stroking him,” chimed in Nicole.
“Suck him,” commanded Lo.
“Can we watch you suck off HH?” she asked.
Lo looked up at me. “Will you stay hard if we go outside?”
“For you, darling, anything.”
First she warmed me up in the car with her mouth, the wetness of which only made the shock of the cold air even more acute.
We got in front of the headlights and Lo got on her knees, taking me in her mouth.
We lasted like that for about a minute or so, but then hopped back into the heated car.
Nicole said that Ron had cum already.
“What about you?”
“I haven’t cum in ages,” she said with a certain sadness in her voice. She also sounded resigned to this fact.
“HH is going to suck on my hard nipples,” said Lo, taking me to her chest. “I can cum through nipple stimulation alone.” She didn’t mean to sound as if she was bragging, but wanted to inform them why she’d soon be moaning and even calling out that she’s cumming.
“I wish I could,” said Nicole.
As I sucked, bit, stretched, nibbled, and tongued Lo’s nipples, we could hear Ron and Nicole getting their clothes back on. They drove away as Lo climaxed, but they left the phone on to hear it.
When Lo regained her composure, she went down on me as I put the car in reverse and drove home.
Truthfully, I forgot that Lo’s phone was still on as I commented about how hot Lo was and what a show she put on for the couple.
Lo occasionally took her lips off of my cock to remark about how she wished we weren’t in COVID times so she could have let Nicole suck her tits through the window or so she could have gone over to the driver’s side, reached down between Ron’s legs and give him a handjob.
She resumed sucking as I drove the abandoned streets. She said she wished that Nicole would wear a strap-on and fuck her over the hood of the car.
Suddenly, through Lo’s phone, we heard moaning and heavy breathing. It was loud – loud enough for us to hear it over my own heavy breathing and Lo’s slurping. It was Nicole. She was cumming.
Ron informed us after the peak had subsided that Nicole masturbated (for the first time!) in the car on the ride home, listening to us and the dirty things Lo was saying and she managed to bring herself to a clitoral climax.
Mission accomplished.
Interview With a Sex Addict
Interview with a Sex Addict
This week, we bring out our resident admitted and diagnosed sex addict, AL, who goes by “Al.” He graciously agreed to answer a few questions about sex addiction, for educational purposes. Lo enthusiastically put on her correspondent’s had (and nothing else) and went to work interviewing him and then, took off the newsgirl hat and teased him, as she does.
- How do you define “sex addict”?
Without Googling, I define a sex addict as someone who compulsively engages in sexual behaviors, despite any negative effects created by said behaviors. They’ve shaped/changed their arousal palette, neural pathways, and reward center to release that sweet, sweet dopamine when engaging in their desired sexual behaviors, even if those behaviors result in negative consequences affecting self, family/friends, job, etc.
- Do you consider yourself a sex addict?
Yes, and if not a sex addict—then definitely addicted to lusting after HH/Lo’s pictures and words! Some days I’ll wake up with Lo on my mind and even though I could just stroke right there and cum—I’d much rather click through her pictures and read their words, first.
- Tell me more. How did you come to the conclusion that you are a sex addict?
Obviously, I was living life under the self-delusion that I just had high sex drive and a wandering eye. But after multiple therapists—which were a waste of time in the beginning since I never was actually honest about the extent of my situation—I had one in particular suggest that maybe I have a sex addiction. She also stated that it wasn’t her expertise, so she couldn’t help me in the way I needed. After some reading and podcasts, I reached out to a CSAT (Certified Sex Addiction Therapist) and decided to “come clean,” which coincided with my “rock bottom.” It was through her that I was diagnosed as having a sex addiction.
- Tell me what “rock bottom” meant for you since we all have different bottoms (no pun intended).
What I mean by rock bottom…long story, short: I racked up multiple thousands of dollars on credit cards in my name (via webcam girls, buying girls things, etc.); I was constantly checking sites like PornHub, Xvideos, eFukt, mysexlifewithlola.com; stopping by strip clubs for lap dances; even seeking out guys with whom to share naked photos/videos of my wife; seeking escorts for random encounters; cheating on my (then) fiancée with girls that she hated.
- You’re married to a beautiful, sexy woman. How’s that relationship?
Yes, she is very beautiful and sexy. We’ve been married five years, and together for over ten. We’ve definitely experienced our share of ups and downs. It’s the downs that seem to linger, but that is part of the work. She picked up on some red flags but continued on (as did I). Historically, she hasn’t had a ‘high’ (or medium for that matter) sex drive, and mistakenly, I used to ascribe a lot of the blame on her for my acting out. That was wrong of me. Part of the process involved a ‘disclosure’ of all events/actions that I had hidden away—that was difficult, borderline catastrophic. I ended up making it worse by not being completely honest during my first disclosure, meaning I didn’t come clean to all the details until a second disclosure months later.
Ironically, we’re closer and more strategic (in a non-sexual way) with our relationship now that I’m in recovery. She also sees a therapist who is familiar with partner betrayal (which is very important, or else sometimes the partner receives an unfair share of shame and blame). She doesn’t fully understand (can anyone, really?) but she’s working hard, as am I (sometimes). We do not have sex often, as I’m sure one might wonder…in fact, I’m lucky if it’s once a week and not a quickie. I can see that a day doesn’t go by where it doesn’t hurt her, but life is complicated, and the goal is to be in a better spot than we were.
[Trigger Warning – non-consent]
- Did you have any formative sexual experiences in early life?
Yes. At age 3 or 4, my next-door neighbor—who was around 5- or 6-year-old—introduced me to kissing and touching. She would take me in to the closet and show me first-hand what she must have been introduced to by whomever was (sadly) showing her. Additionally, when I was six, I had a handful of experiences involving my cousin (same age) and her friend, “trying to be like adults.”
I would also add that access to pornography at a young age was formative in itself. The internet really changed things, as well. I grew up in an unstable household; I sought pleasure and seclusion. Given those needs and that environment, it’s no wonder to me that I latched on to the pleasures of ‘sex’ to escape.
- Best sexual experience?
This is a tricky one…my best sexual experience would most likely be with one of my exes— she was amazing in bed…always wanted to fuck, loved to swallow, and LOVED doing it in public places. I think we were at some random party and their bathroom suited us just fine!
- Worst sexual experience?
Is that possible? JK. One of the worst experiences would be one of my first escort experiences. The situation was shady AF, which only prevented me from getting (and remaining) hard. I hadn’t experienced that before, and it was awkward. I remember desperately trying to squeeze my flaccid condom-covered cock inside of her. She understood, but I ended up having to settle for a hand job.
- Who knows of your addiction, if anyone?
As it stands right now, five people are aware of my addiction: my counselor, my wife, my wife’s best friend, one of my closest friends from high school, and oddly enough, one of my professors from my first year back at school. I’ve debated sharing with my brother (I think he has some similar issues) and my 14-year-old son.
- How long have you been in treatment for sex addiction? And do you feel it has worked?
I’ve been in treatment for 3+ years now with a CSAT. It definitely helped me become more aware. I’m sure there are workbooks, strict plans, etc. Before disclosure, we simply identified the really ‘bad’ behaviors (escorts, strip clubs, webcam girls) and put in mitigation efforts (GPS tracking on phone, website filters on phone and laptop). That’s actually the easy part. The hard part is the act of disclosure (if you’re honest enough), and all of the ‘work’ when no one is looking—that’s where the real gains can be made (or lost).
- What would you say to people reading this who are asking themselves: Am I a sex addict or do I just have a healthy sexual appetite?
I would say: enjoy sex. I personally see it as a life enhancer (similar to good food or music); however, if things start getting bad and you’re hiding a lot from people, that can spiral and add so much (unnecessary) stress. Long story short, if there are bad things happening because of one’s sexual appetite, then one should at least look at their impact and see if any adjustments should be made. Life is much more fun being authentic!
- Have you ever met a female sex addict? If so, describe what that interaction was like?
I’ve only read about and been told about them, never meeting one in person. I know they’re out there, but the stereotypical addict seems to fall on males and the partner role is assumed to be female.
- Why do you think sex addiction has become such a popular topic lately?
I think it’s because sex sells and some people look at it as a crutch or excuse to do what they do. (Which is fine, unless you’re causing unnecessary damage as a result of it.)
- Have you read any literature out there about sex addicts or sex addiction? If so, what do you recommend?
Facing the Shadow, Patrick Carnes
“Sex Help with Carol the Coach” (podcast)
“Behind Closed Doors” with Dr. Kate Balestrieri (podcast)
- Would you prefer if you were not a sex addict? Why or why not?
I like being who I am, and I like what I’m into. What I’d prefer is being upfront with significant others, and saying: “Hey, this is me…like it or leave it.” I think I grew up in shitty situations, so I’d use sex, love, flirting, etc. as my drug. Throw in the internet, and being someone who is good at lying, and that’s a potent combination.
- Biggest trouble that sex addiction got you into?
This list is ongoing, but you’re only in trouble if you get caught! (JK) Gigantic credit card bills…I’m a sucker for spoiling a slut or camgirl, lol. Racking those up was the primary driver in hitting my bottom.
- You seem to be successful at your job and still married and a parent. Is there such a thing as a “high functioning” sex addict like there is for a “high functioning alcoholic”? Describe.
Actually, I do think there is such a thing. I was so intrigued by this question, that I even asked it of my counselor—she agreed. Part of being a high functioning sex addict would require being able to compartmentalize almost anything and any time. In doing so, you’re able to build a rationale on the matter. I also know the things I cannot do—although I want to: the strip clubs, seeing escorts, flirting with a slut. And so I am able to navigate the decisions I make, and the steps I take to cover up those decisions if they are of the variety that would ‘give me away.’
- Pros and cons of being a sex addict?
Pros: Good ol’ fashioned dopamine at a relatively inexpensive cost (not including the externalities); typically, a more open, and inclusive mind… Cons: Can be relationship killer, money-drainer, and/or source of depression if not approached correctly (is there a correct way? Asking for a friend, lol).
- Top five fantasy fucks?
#1 – You!
#2 – An all-night bang session with my wife and her best friend.
#3 – Be part of a gangbang…with some amateur local wife.
#4 – DVP (Double Vaginal Penetration, or two penises in the vagina) with my wife.
#5 – You!
- Sexual experience you haven’t had yet but would like to try?
I’ve always wanted to try a threesome, both MMF and MFF. Also, I’ve ALWAYS wanted to share my wife…I can think of multiple scenarios involving her…me watching, not watching, listening, being shown, etc.
- Bonus question: From what you know of me, do you think I’m a sex addict?
From what I’ve gathered, and if analyzed with the actual truths, I do. But do I think there are huge negative consequences affecting you? Probably not, given our society.
After our interview was over, Lo was naughty and engaged in the following interaction:
Lola: I wonder how your jacking off to me plays into your current recovery and relationship with your wife. For instance, what happens when I send you a photo like this?
AL: Besides the mini dopamine rush and flinch of my cock? Or, are you looking for how many times I’ve already clicked on the picture, to enlarge and admire it?
Lola: I like to know that you think about me when you stroke that lovely cock of yours to my photos. Now write about that experience. Include where your wife is. How you keep this solo session from her? How it makes you feel? How I make you feel?
AL: Right now, my wife’s sleeping next to me naked. I’m in the bed, hard as a rock, looking at your photos. To tell the truth, I forgot how hard I get reading about you; way harder than looking at porn, that’s for sure.
All solo getting off has to be done on the sly for me. My wife and I have a soft agreement that I’m supposed to inform her when I ‘take care of myself.’. . . I often seek out your photos to simply admire and your stories to see what you’re up to, but. . . one thing leads to another. I don’t always tell my wife when I got off alone and I certainly don’t disclose what I looked at/thought about, especially when it was you. But these behaviors do cause me to develop a guilt factor when I’m wanting to take care of myself—which I don’t necessarily like.
I am fully aware that you don’t help my addiction. However, I am also aware that I have needs too, and my mind is fully capable of rationalizing the fact that getting off to your pictures is a lot safer than the ‘acting out’ behaviors I used to engage in.
Keeping you – your pictures and your stories – hidden away from my therapist and my wife certainly doesn’t help my situation, but, as long as I am careful and respectful, it doesn’t necessarily hurt. I like to think it keeps me in somewhat of a steady-state (which I think is only possible because of the fact that I am ‘high-functioning’ sex addict, as you called it). Deep down, I know that these are behaviors that need to change in order to fully ‘recover.’ But I have to ask myself two things: “Is recovery what I really want?” and “Where’s the fun in that?”
Lola: So you’re saying that getting off to me is what we might call ‘harms reduction’?
AL: That’s an interesting take, but yes, sort of a lesser of two evils (although you’re not evil; naughty, yes, but not evil as far as I know, haha). It’s kind of like, I know it is still reinforcing neural pathways that I’m trying to change, but still I pursue that behavior because of my brain’s ability to rationalize and compartmentalize.
Lola: Thought experiment – what would happen if you were married to me and I constantly had guys (and gals) coming over in order to cum over, in, on, to, with, and for me and you were there to watch? Would that be a cure?
AL: Now that just sounds hot! If that scenario were real, and guys and girls were coming over to cum with, in, and on you, then I think I’d be in my happy place, as long as you (as my wife) wanted it, and so did I. (I do, btw, I very much do!)
Crisscross
It was Labor Day weekend. The COVID numbers were down low. Lo Down’s libido was up high. She always wants summer to last forever, but this particular year she was fearing the worst about the fall and winter. Predictions were dire. After her relaxed restrictions with MILF Meri and the brothers, she was increasingly feeling like a cornered animal as the days grew shorter.
Though her camping trip with MILF Meri and her son was way more than she had anticipated and it resulted in a couple of weeks of added anxiety, it seemed that the whole matter had just blown over. She and Meri had been in frequent communication together, trying to suss out implications of their rendezvous. Nothing seemed to come of it, to their great relief.
At the same time, they had been conspiring to create a way for Lo to politely bow out of her irregularly scheduled, but frequent, meetings with the brothers and for Meri to have an extramarital affair that could fulfill her desire for young, virile, and large cock, without her having to look too close to home. Occam’s Razor – simply swap Meri for Lo as the brothers’ playmate of choice and Lo for Meri at home. But the best laid fans require groundwork. Lo and Meri set their minds to pulling off the switcheroo. The opening gambit was introductions.
A backyard barbeque, socially distant, with only a few select guests presented itself as the most appropriate, convenient, and expeditious option. To our little affair, Lo invited the brothers and Meri.
You might recall that the last time the brothers had paid a booty-call to Lo, they brought over a little something. After they left, I said to Lo, “That sure is a big package.”
“Whose, Gary’s or Roy’s?” Lo asked.
“Whichever one left it.” I still don’t know who is who. It’s not like we engage in any actual conversation when they come over to pay a visit. That is, when they pay a visit to cum over Lo.
“Oh,” sung Lo, “that package. I thought you were talking about something else.”
The brothers had left something on the living room coffee table before they abruptly left.
“You know Lo,” I said, thinking about the way they treat her, “those two had better not go into the stock market.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, picking up the big box and looking at it with curiosity.
“Because their only technique is classic pump and dump.”
“Funny,” she said with sarcasm.
“And you had better get out of the stock market.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
“You cause things to get over heated and that leads to dangerous inflation.”
“You are taxing the economic analogies,” she said.
“And you’re a quick wit.”
“And a faster fuck.”
“What’s in the box?” I asked, returning to the large item on the coffee table.
Lo picked it up, shook it, and then slowly slid off the top.
“Oh, look at that! The brothers’ mother sent over a little thank you gift.”
“Is it a large box of condoms?”
“No, silly. Besides, it would be a box of large condoms for those two!”
“Then what is it?”
Out of the box she pulled a hefty blue glass vase.
“Isn’t that sweet,” I said, “a wide receptacle in which to place long stems.”
“Enough of the single-entendre. There’s a note. ‘Dear Lola, Thank you so much for all your care and concern for my boys. They have told me how sweet you are to them and, as their mother, I appreciate it.’ That was nice.”
“Little does she know how sweet you are to them!”
“Let’s hope so,” said Lo.
We hadn’t seen them since then. Lo was busy with her MILF Meri. And the brothers, well, who knows what those boys were up to.
But now Lo and Meri had it all perfectly choreographed. The brothers were to join and finally meet MILF Meri who had been keen to bed them ever since Lo hatched this plan. Matchmakers’ schemes rarely ever come off without a hitch and this was no exception. As if still attached to his mother by the umbilical cord, MILF Meri’s youngest son, the one who tagged along for Lo and Meri’s camping weekend, also came, uninvited, to the BBQ. As if that wasn’t bad enough to upend Lo and Meri’s machinations, Roy or Gary (I still can’t tell them apart, though they’re not identical twins or even twins at all!) brought his girlfriend, unannounced. The young, innocent doe was everything Lo despises in a female competitor (and let’s face it, she views almost all females as competitors). The girlfriend was a thin waif with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and she was quite young – still in high school. She wore a cutoff t-shirt, proudly displaying her midriff and navel piercing, almost displaying her underboob, and she wore tight blue denim shorts (fashionably ripped and faded of course), and flip-flops.
The moment she walked into the back yard with one of the brothers, I could see Lo’s soul fuming, even as Lo pleasantly said, “No, it’s not a problem at all that you came. What’s your name?” The word façade is from the word face and Lo’s face was a true façade – concealing her inner green-eyed slayer.
“Ell, short for Ella. Everyone calls me Ell,” she said with a bubbly, vapid smile.
“And you’re whose girlfriend?” I asked, impolitely, reinforcing the interchangeability of the siblings in my mind.
“Gary’s, of course,” she said, grabbing his arm. I took note that Gary was wearing a blue shirt and Roy wore a black shirt.
“I see. How long have you been dating?” I asked, offering them a drink.
“No alcohol,” called Lo over her shoulder as she eavesdropped on our conversation. “She’s not old enough.”
I passed Ell a ginger ale.
“We started dating just before COVID. It’s been so difficult,” she complained, “because his mother has been so strict about him and Roy seeing anyone. We’ve only been able to meet in person once or twice since then and all without his mother’s knowledge.”
“Please don’t say anything about her being here today, HH,” requested Gary. Those were, perhaps, the most words he had ever spoken to me, though he had been banging Lola all through COVID, along side his brother.
“Oh, I can keep a secret. Rest assured,” I replied, well aware that his trysts with Lo were a secret to innocent, young Ell as well as his ever-watchful and protective mother.
“Thanks,” said Ell, flirtatiously with me. It was transparently obvious that she was trying to use her sex-appeal to get me on her side. “And you’re Lola’s father?” was her follow-up question.
Before I could answer, either affirmatively or negatively, she added in her bubbly attempt at charm, “I can see the resemblance.”
“Now you’re just flattering me,” I said. Luckily, Lola was out of earshot and neither Roy nor Gary let on otherwise. I think they were dumbstruck, metaphorically scratching their heads at Ell’s inappropriate and incorrect question and my hesitance to disabuse her of the notion. I winked at the boys, including them in my little ruse. If they were going to implicitly include me in their deception of Ell, then they owed me an old man’s little joke.
MILF Meri approached and introduced herself and her son, as if he needed her to do everything for him. He too was still in high school.
“You’ll excuse me,” I said, “I have to get the food ready. I’m sure you all have lots in common.” I knew very well that the one thing they all had in common was that they all had fucked Lo, with the exception of Ell, who was in the dark about it all.
MILF Meri was wearing a long, flowy orange skirt with a sexy slit that originated at her waist. She wore a tight tank-top with a bra that accentuated her cleavage. I wondered if her son knew that she was attending this party specifically to seduce the brothers.
“Looks like you have some rearranging to do,” I said when I met Lo in the kitchen.
“What do you mean?”
“MILF Meri has her horny son hanging on her and Gary brought a third-wheel who’s not you.”
“I’m never the third wheel,” she protested. “If anything, I’m the hub at the center.”
“You mean the hole that fits the axle?”
“Whatever. I’m a well-oiled machine.”
“With lots of horsepower.”
She laughed and said, “Do you think you can distract Shell?”
“Shell?” I asked. “Her name is Ell.”
“Whatever,” said Lo dismissively, “she’s a shell of a person.”
“Just because she’s young, blonde, stick-skinny, and flirting with me doesn’t mean. . .”
“Flirting with you?!”
“Yes. Is that so surprising? You should know better than anyone that I am irresistibly attractive to younger women.”
“Get out of here before I turn you into a gelding!” she said, raising the knife she was using to cut the tomatoes.
I quickly left with a laugh and returned to our company in the backyard. Soon after, Lo emerged with a plate of appetizers.
“Help yourselves. HH will fire up the grill and take your orders,” she said cheerfully.
I fulfilled my hosting role, as instructed, and Lo disappeared back inside. Little did I know at the time that Gary had followed her, leaving his girlfriend to talk to me while I put the meat over the flame.
“I wish you had told me you were bringing Ell,” said Lo to Gary, reproachfully.
“I’m sorry Lo, but she insisted. I couldn’t say no.”
“You couldn’t? It’s not your house. You could have just said that it’s an invitation-only party and she wasn’t invited.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Gary, meekly.
“What is it, then?”
“Well, I was hoping she’d meet you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Well,” he began without confidence, “she’s just not like you.”
“Few women are. Few men are, for that matter.”
“I mean, she’s so inexperienced. In bed, that is. She doesn’t do the things you do.”
“Of course not,” said Lo matter-of-factly, “she’s a skinny chick.”
“What does that mean?” asked Gary.
“Come with me,” she said, grabbing his belt buckle and leading him out of the kitchen, down the hall, to the bathroom. She shut and locked the door. She got naked. She sat on the toilet and unbuckled Gary’s belt, unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and took it in her mouth. He was very hard. She peed and looked up at him, saying, “Guys use me. I’ll do what a skinny chick won’t. Would Ell do this?”
Gary reached down and pulled Lo’s head closer to him, causing her to envelop his meat with her mouth until it was in the back of her throat. While he was enjoying Lola’s oral pleasures, he glanced out the window into the backyard where he could see his girlfriend chatting with me.
Lo pulled her head back.
“Uh uh,” she cautioned. “You need to stay eager for your girlfriend.” She wiped, flushed, got up, bent over the sink until her bare rear was pressing up against Gary’s cock.
As she washed her hands, he attempted to penetrate her. “Can I have you, really quickly?”
“Na-ah,” she said, denying him.
“Just two minutes,” he pleaded.
“I’ll give you one minute. In my ass.”
Lo reached in the medicine cabinet, took out a tube of lube and circled it around and then in her special spot. Gary slid right in. He was desperately trying to cum in under sixty seconds. Lo was bent over the sink taking it and keeping track of the time. She had no intention of letting him cum. She needed him hard for MILF Meri.
At the sixty-second mark, Lo pulled forward and got on her knees, taking Gary in her mouth and looking up at him with a smile.
She could have easily coaxed him to cum in her mouth, but she released him and stood up, saying to him, “You see, boys use me when a skinny chick just won’t do.” She kissed him, open-mouthed, for a long time while her hand held his hard cock in her palm. “Maybe I should get a t-shirt that says that,” she mused, “Use me when a skinny girl just won’t do.”
She got dressed and led him out of the bathroom. Luckily for both of them, the coast was clear.
Back in the kitchen, Lo continued with the food prep as if nothing had happened, but Gary was stunned by Lo’s revelation about the difference between thick and thin. He was thinking it over as Lo washed some cucumbers.
“You mean,” he began to formulate a question.
“Pass me the pepper,” said Lo, with no time to spare for looking deep in his eyes and explaining the finer facts of life to him.
He passed the pepper unconsciously. His mind was elsewhere. “All the stuff you do. . . in bed. . . that. . .” He didn’t even know how to phrase it.
“Look,” said Lo, “I’m not saying every skinny chick is a missionary-two-minute-no orgasm-might-as-well-fuck-a-slice-of-warm-pie chick. I’m just saying that if you want to have what you have with me, you should be looking at a woman more like Meri. Fish where the fish are, you know?”
“Meri?” he said with shock. “That kid’s mom out there?”
“Yep.”
“But she’s married. A mom. A –”
“Amazing in bed!” Lo said, interrupting his slack-jawed confusion.
“What?”
“She’s a fucking animal in bed. I should know.”
“You and Meri. . . ?”
“That surprises you?”
“Um, well, ur. . . she’s married,” he protested again. “And a mom.”
“You have to stop seeing only labels. She’s a woman of flesh-and-blood. She has needs, wants, desires, drives. I’m with HH. That doesn’t stop me. Or you. Or your brother. Or Meri. Or her son.”
“Her son?!”
“Never mind I said that,” said Lo, happy to have planted the seed of jealousy. “You should see her tits,” continued Lo. “Here, will you carry this out to HH?” she asked, handing him a plate of hotdogs. “Tell him I’m done with them.”
“You didn’t. . . ?”
“No, I’m just kidding,” said Lo. “Or am I? Not to worry, I have lots of fresh, long, stiff cucumbers.”
Gary went outside with the dogs and, no sooner had he left than Meri walked into the kitchen.
“What the actual fuck?!” asked Meri dramatically.
“I don’t know,” said Lo, preparing the steak, “what?”
“You didn’t tell me his girlfriend would be here.”
“I assure you, I didn’t know. But really, remember the story of the kettle and the stove?”
“What?”
“You come in here accusing me of inviting Gary’s girlfriend and you show up with your son. He couldn’t stay home and make himself a pb&j?”
“I had no intention of. . .”
“After what happened last time, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Lo, really, I. . .”
Lola wasn’t in any mood to hear yet another excuse for why Mamma’s Boy was tagging along with MILF Meri to the party Lola planned especially for Meri to hook up with the brothers.
“You’re making my job a lot more difficult, you know.”
“What did Gary have to say to you?”
“Gary?”
“Yeah. He was just in here with you, wasn’t he?”
“He wants me to turn his inexperienced, prudish, girlfriend into a slutty sex goddess like me.”
“Ha! Good luck!”
“I redirected his attention to you.”
“That’s my good little pimp,” said Meri as she grabbed Lo around the waste to give her a kiss.
Just then, her son barged into the kitchen.
“Ma,” he whined, not realizing what he was interrupting.
“What?” asked Meri, turning away from Lo.
“Oh, come on, Mom! Give it a rest. Can’t you be around her for more than a minute without trying to get in her pants?”
“I imagine your intentions for coming with me were lily-white!”
He turned around, walked out, and slammed the door behind him.
During all of this, I was talking with Ell. Since Lo had invited all of her paramours here, I figured I had license to make her just a tad jealous while also teasing the unfortunate girl.
She and I had struck up a pleasant conversation, but she eventually asked to use the bathroom. I told her where it was and watched as she disappeared inside just as Lo was returning to the party with the salad bowl.
Lo loves to play hostess to large crowds. One of the most painful sacrifices she had to give up for COVID has been throwing parties. Well, that is the second most painful sacrifice for her. The first, of course, was no longer being the community cockbox. But the brothers had helped mollify her. She delights in feeding people and seeing them enjoy in her food and drink. I think that on some deeper psychological level that primal pleasure is connected with the sexual satisfaction she seeks from providing for others to feast on her carnal sweets. It is as if feeding people is how Lo vicariously fucks them.
Soon after, Ell returned and, acting glad to be in my company, picked up the conversation where she had left off.
“Where do you live?” she inquired of me.
“Oh, I live here, with Lola.”
“Is this your apartment?” she asked, a little surprised.
“I share it with Lo,” I said, matter-of-factly.
“Just you two?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, I didn’t mean to snoop or pry, but I couldn’t help seeing all those photos of you two inside.”
“We make a great couple, don’t you think?”
I could see her effervescence flattening as she continued learning about us.
“Does she have a boyfriend?” she asked, clearly disturbed by what she had seen.
“Many,” I replied, truthfully. “And a few girlfriends too.”
Now I could see the wheels turning. She was wondering if I was misunderstanding her questions. Maybe I was so old that I wasn’t clear what she was trying to get at, she thought.
Just then, Lo came over to me and slid her arm around my waist. “What are you two talking about?” she asked, giving me a kiss on the lips to emphasize to Ell Lo’s complete ownership of me.
Ell seemed to blanch.
“We were just talking about you and all your boyfriends and girlfriends,” I said.
Lo let out a little laugh and said, in a show of confidential solidarity with Ell, “He’s very good to me. He lets me do whatever I want.”
“I see,” was all Ell could muster.
“The bedroom has had a lot less traffic since the pandemic, but every once in a while she still asks that I sleep on the couch to allow her and her lover some privacy.”
“And a bed,” said Lo, confused by Ell’s outrage. “Only I’m allowed to play. He’s not.”
“That’s fine by me,” I said, with a wink to Ell, “with a beauty like Lola, it would be a sin to keep her all to myself. But she always asks permission first.”
“He’s so paternalistic,” commented Lo, “But that’s ok by me, because of my daddy issues.” Lo let out a little laugh as if it were a joke with a hint of seriousness, but poor Ell was horrified.
“I, I, I think I have to get going.”
“So soon?” asked Lo. “We haven’t even gotten started yet.”
Ell walked over to Gary.
“Strange girl,” remarked Lo.
“Yes, but cute,” I said to get Lo’s goat.
She elbowed me playfully in the stomach.
“Keep it in your pants, old man,” Lo said, “she’s in high school.”
“Like you have the moral high-ground in that regard.”
“Whatever. If you want her, you can have her. I’m much better and badder.”
“Oh Darling, you know I’m only teasing you.”
“Such a big tease,” Lo said sarcastically.
“Speaking of tease, I guess I should also let you in on something.”
“What’s that?”
“Ell thinks I’m your father, not your lover.”
“What?!”
“Or, rather, I guess she now thinks that I’m your father and your lover.”
“Oh boy! That’s why she had to leave so quickly.”
“Yep.”
Roy, Gary, and Ell were sitting together on one side of the small backyard patio, while Meri and her son were on the other side. Lo and I were by the grill. We knew something had to be done to get these groups to mingle more.
Just then, to my great surprise, Lily made an appearance in our backyard, sans Jim. I had no idea she was invited. Was she?
In any case, this new addition served a convenient purpose. Lily’s stag arrival allowed her to mingle within and among the three distinct groups of people: the brothers and Ell; MILF Meri and her son; Lo and me. However, it also made Lo and Meri’s design a little more complicated, for the brothers were captivated by Lily’s beauty and, I surmise, her wedding band. She was off limits and that is always an attractive feature in a person.
I found out later that Lo had told Lily about our Labor Day garden party and that Lily was extremely curious to meet all the people Lo had been pleasing during the pandemic. But she was not sure if she would make it since Jim and Lily had another engagement at the same time. It so turned out that Jim was enjoying himself there more than Lily and so Lily politely excused herself to inspect Lo’s summer conquests.
“Maybe we should introduce an ice-breaker party game?” I suggested to Lo.
“What did you have in mind?”
“We could play find the hidden dildo?”
“That wouldn’t work. Too many dildos lying around the house.”
“Even better – everyone can be a winner!”
“How about Pin the Butt-plug on the Mommy?”
“MILF Meri?”
“The only mommy here.”
“Sounds like it would take too much skill.”
“Any other ideas?” she asked.
“Each of the women has to hold a beer bottle in her cleavage and pour a sip into a guy’s mouth.”
“You’ve got some perverted ideas,” she said. “And I like them all. But that wouldn’t work. Ell over there is no more than an A-cup.”
We compromised and chose “Heads-Up!” – the charades game you can play using a smart phone.
Lo chose teams: MILF Meri and Gary, Roy and Lola, Lily and me, Ell and Meri’s son.
We played for a little while and as the adult beverages began to work their magic on the adults at the garden party, Meri became gradually more comfortable with Gary and attempted to engage his brother Roy. Lily and I played nice, but she knew I was off limits and was more interested in teasing out the brothers, creating conflict and friction with Meri. Finally, Ell and Meri’s son couldn’t have been more awkward together.
We only played a couple of rounds and it became quite clear that Meri and Gary were the hands-down winners of this game. When it was over, the purpose of the game proved a success – the various parties were mingling and getting to know each other better.
To my consternation, after Lo went inside to prepare dessert, Meri’s son approached me. He hadn’t said a word to me the entire time. Not even a hello. But now he walked up to me and looked starstruck.
“Did you really go to Japan?” he asked. No introduction. No small-talk.
“Yes,” I said, politely.
“And studied in a Zen a monastery?”
“That’s right.”
I’m not one to toot my own horn, but he approached me like I was a famous explorer or a celebrity.
“I want to do that someday.”
“I’m sure you will,” I said, mindlessly.
“And Lo really fucked all those guys there?”
He had blurted it out as if it was common knowledge.
“Where’d you hear that?” I asked.
“The blog! And the books!” he said enthusiastically.
“Shhhhh,” I said, pulling him closer to me in confidence. “Look, it’s all well and good that you know about the blog and have dotingly read every story, but not everyone here knows about it,” I said, looking around at our guests. “And some of the people here are in the blog.” Namely: Roy, Gary, and Lily. Now we can add Ell to the list of characters, I suppose.
“Oh,” he said, comprehending the need for secrecy. “Well, I guess I just wanted to say, uh, that, I really admire you.”
“Thanks kid. Good to hear,” I said, feeling like Hemingway.
At the same time Lily had begun to make conversation with Ell. As I cooked, I eavesdropped. I don’t know how they got on the topic, but Lily was telling Ell about her time in New York City.
“When I lived there,” she was saying, “I was in a thruple.”
“What’s that?” asked the naïve Ell.
“Well, in my case, it was an older married couple. They took me into their place. I had my own bedroom and when either the husband or the wife needed more sexually, they’d page me. I’d go into the bedroom and service whichever one had need of me. Sometimes both, but not often.”
Ell’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. Lily was bragging, but trying to play it as if it were nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary.
“Some nights she wasn’t in the mood, so he’d call me in to help him. Other nights he might have fucked her, but came too early, so I’d use my mouth on her until she was satisfied.”
“What about you?” asked Ell, engrossed by this alternate lifestyle as if hearing for the first time about an alternate universe.
“Me? Oh, I got a lot of pleasure from it. I’m like Lo in that way. I enjoy pleasing others.”
“Like fucking them?” asked Ell.
“Yeah. But, with me, I’m chaste.”
Now Ell’s mind looked as if it was about to explode.
“What?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’m what’s known as A.O.L. – anal only lifestyle.”
“So he’d fuck you in the. . .”
“Well, not always,” said Lily nonchalantly. “Sometimes he would bind my hands behind my back and my ankles together, have me sit kajira, and fuck my mouth.”
“Kajira? What is that? A Japanese term?”
“No, Gorean.”
“What?”
I could see that Ell was in for an education in the subtleties of fantasy fiction fan sexual positions, so I made my way over to Meri on the pretense of offering to refill her glass. She was busy trying to entice both Gary and Roy into her den of maternal delights by speaking to them about sports, specifically hockey, as she feigned not knowing how much cleavage she was showing. I saw the brothers struggling to keep eye contact with her while they desired to look down the V-neck opening of her tank top. Simultaneously, the slit of her skirt was sliding further and further up her left leg, revealing just about everything, including her pantiless crotch.
I indicated that I would like to pour her some more wine. She didn’t even look up at me. She just waved her hand toward her glass, as if I were a waiter and she was indicating a refill. She had the boys and she knew it. She wasn’t going to let anything interrupt the seduction.
Everything seemed to be going fine and now that the awkward introductions were over and we were well past the getting-to-know-you period, time sped by. Before any of us knew it, the sun had begun to go down and we had seamlessly transitioned from an afternoon lunch to thoughts about dinner. No one wanted the party to end, especially since, due to lock-down and COVID, we had not spent time with this many other people in a long time.
Lo and I, reading the crowd, but lacking the provisions, discussed what to do. We finally turned it over to our guests, letting them know that they were welcome to stay, but that we didn’t have enough food for dinner.
After a bit of discussion, Meri suggested Sushi. She said she’d pay for it and the Grubhub delivery. Everyone gave Meri their orders and she took care of it. After she was done with the extensive list that must have cost her over $200.00, she said, half jokingly, “We should make Nyotaimori of it.”
“What?” asked some of our guests.
“Nyotaimori,” she repeated, explaining, “You know, body sushi.”
Most people still looked confused.
“It’s an ancient Japanese tradition of serving sushi on a naked body – a woman’s body, traditionally, but it could be a man’s, I guess.”
“Ewww, that’s gross,” blurted out Ell.
“I think it’s sensual,” replied Lily. “For a lot of people, the closest they come to embodied existence is eating, and even then they do it mindlessly. This tradition really drives home the experience of living in the flesh.”
“Maybe it drives it too close to home,” added one of the brothers.
“Do we want to try this?” asked Meri, persistent and clearly eager to do it.
“Who would be the, er, serving table?” asked Ell nervously.
“The host should, of course,” responded Meri, quick to volunteer Lola.
“Oh, I don’t think you want to see me naked,” I chimed in, playfully.
“I wasn’t talking about. . .” began Meri, before she realized I was just joking.
“I’m game,” said Lo. “Luckily I showered and shaved just before you all got here. Hun,” she said to me, “will you light the firepit?”
“Sure.”
It was a warm evening, but Lo loves the ambiance of a firepit. Lighting it wasn’t a problem since it was a propane fueled fire. Living in the city, we couldn’t have a wood-fueled firepit. We’re lucky to have a postage stamp sized backyard.
Lo went inside, stripped, put on a bathrobe, grabbed a couple of rarely used blankets, and returned to our company outside. She spread the blankets on the long-neglected picnic bench and the brothers and I lifted it and moved it to the center of the yard.
Not much later, Meri’s phone alerted her that the food would be delivered momentarily. She told Lo, who went around front to greet the delivery boy. He had stopped on the street in front of the apartment building and got out with the large bag of food. He was about to go in the front door when he saw Lo saunter up the side of the building in her white, plush, terrycloth robe. He looked startled.
“I’ll take that,” said Lo.
“Meri?” he asked, making sure he was delivering the food to the right person.
“Yes,” replied Lo.
He passed her the bag. Lo reached out for it, allowing her robe to open slightly in the front, revealing her nakedness.
He cast his eyes away as he scurried off like a frightened deer. Lo chuckled. She returned to the crowd in the back.
“Food’s on!” she called, adding, “On me!”
Lo slowly removed her robe and passed it to Roy as she climbed naked up and onto the flat surface of the picnic table covered by the blankets.
While Lo was getting the food, Meri had gone inside to grab a head of lettuce from the fridge.
“The proper way to do this,” she said, authoritatively, “is to place a leaf of lettuce under each piece of food in order to prevent contact between food and skin.”
“Very sanitary,” whispered Ell under her breath sarcastically.
“It actually is quite sanitary. I had the pleasure of being exposed to this time-honored tradition when I was in Japan many years ago.”
At this point, Lo was the one being ‘exposed’ to the tradition. She was lying, baring all, on the table and looked, if I do say so, good enough to eat.
Meri took the lead and said to Lo, “You’re going to have to lie perfectly still. Very shallow breathing. No sudden moves. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” replied Lo, a little nervous. It was a lot of sushi that rested literally on her shoulders, and other body parts.
Meri placed the lettuce leaves down on Lo’s body, strategically – breasts, navel, the two corners of her Delta of Venus. She placed a few more on her legs, and in between the other cardinal points. Then she began to arrange the sushi pieces delicately on their little lettuce plates. She arranged the soy sauce, ginger, and wasabi on the table, next to Lo.
“Who’s first?” she asked, handing out chopsticks.
Before anyone could answer, Meri turned to me and said, “I think, as co-host of this evening, you should do the honors.”
I took the chopsticks and found a succulent, deep red slice of tuna sashimi resting right over the topmost part of Lo’s slit.
Picking it up with dexterity, I dipped in the soy sauce and ate it all. It was fabulous!
Others followed suit. Ell notably refrained with a disgusted look on her face. She tried to prevent Gary from indulging, but was completely ineffective.
Perhaps the most notable aspect of this cross-cultural culinary immersion was its lack of eroticism. At least that was my experience of it. Lo was so focused on her breath and remaining still that it was more like a meditation session than a sensual, sexual foray in exhibitionism. The guests were careful to grasp their food in their chopsticks without incident to such an extent that they hardly noticed the body upon which they feasted. It was only, perhaps, in between bites that one could take in the whole scene and even then, there was so little action on the part of Lo that her seductive charm seemed dormant.
The one aspect of it that did particularly strike a chord for me was that this form of hospitality yoked Lo’s two great loves: stylishly satisfying her guests’ appetite for food and elegantly gratifying her lovers’ desire for her body.
When we were all done feasting, and Meri had even popped a few sushi rolls in Lo’s mouth so that the conduit of the cuisine wouldn’t go hungry herself, Lo asked, “Anyone for dessert?” as she spread her legs and scooched down to the edge of the table.
Gary had his girlfriend, Ell, to keep him in line.
Meri thought it might appear unseemly to partake of Lo’s parted pussy lips in front of her son.
Roy seemed vicariously inhibited by his brother’s girlfriend’s harsh judgment.
Lily, though open-minded, preferred thick cock in her ass to giving oral pleasure.
That left Meri’s son. Maybe he was intent on making his mother jealous after all of her overt interest in the two boys where were just slightly older than he. Maybe he was tired of being the background wallpaper to his mother’s grab for attention. Who knows, but after approaching the table, bashfully, he stepped up and indulged exactly the way Lo had taught him on their camping excursion earlier that summer.
Lo’s hands held on to the side of the table as she let him lap her up like a thirsty dog sloppily licking every last bit from his water bowl.
Meri stood at the opposite end of the table and fondled Lo’s breasts, pulling and tugging at her nipples. Eventually she alighted on a creative way to inflict more intense pain. She picked up a couple of chopsticks and turned them into a miniature vice in which she trapped Lo’s nipples and twisted them in the primitive torture implements.
Predictably, Lo came and came a lot all over Meri’s son’s eager and enthusiastic mouth, to such a point that his shirt was soaked from the collar to the navel. Her climactic ejaculation was a revelation to Ell who, if she had ever had heard rumor of such a thing, certainly had never witnessed it.
When the waterworks were complete, Lo slowly got up from the table and found her way to a chair by the fire. She sat, her bare legs crossed, her head drooping back, as she breathed heavily, catching her breath, causing her exposed chest to heave up and down. Her nipples were erect and red with the results of Meri’s sadism and from them all the way up to her face her complexion was flush with the rush of blood following her orgasm.
Everyone sat staring at the Sushi Strumpet until I interrupted their gawking disbelief with an offer to refresh their glasses or grab them a drink.
Lo asked for a tall glass of ice water.
The night continued on with polite conversation as Lo sat among our circle around the fire, nude among the other clothed guests. Occasionally she got up to get something or use the bathroom and her entrances and exits were dramatic by design.
Eventually our guests began to file out, beginning with the brothers and Ell, who had to be home early, so she said.
Then, seeing the night had reached its apex, Lily bade us all a good night.
Lastly, Meri and her son said they were off to their sleepy suburban home.
This left just Lo and me to clean up and, let’s be real, Lo wasn’t going to clean up anything. She went into bed and said she’d welcome me there when I was done.
I found her with her legs spread wide saying, “Oh, Daddy. Have me.”
There’s a deep, hidden connection between feasting and fucking, I thought. It is not coincidental that the early Christian Eucharist was an orgiastic experience. Feasting on the flesh, sacrificing the body to the spirit, elevating the soul through the nourishment of the corporeal house in which it lives, communing with the Holy Spirit through a physical act – all of these could be viewed as metaphors and substitutes for the sacred act of carnal connection and the interrelatedness of all life through the hollowed act of ingestion. Man/Woman, Life/Death, Self/Other, Sacred/Profane, High/Low, Animal/Divine – all these pairs become intertwined and indistinct in and through the dual acts of copulation and ingestion. Two uniting into one. One becoming two. The interplay of all things in the divine dance of a match: a fading cinder; a spritely spark. They come together and form a fire that radiates light and warmth, around which the ever-widening concentric circles of the world emanate out toward a horizon whose circumference is nowhere and center everywhere.
Polyglot
“That’s one thick slick dick!” she said.
“Lo, I’m in my pajamas and I’m not even hard,” I replied.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, not picking up on my sarcasm. “Look,” she said, holding her phone to my face so I could see the surprisingly serpentine appendage which had provoked her initial comment.
“An admirer?” I half stated, half asked.
“This whole COVID quarantine thing has been crappy, but it has also produced some unexpected yet pleasant surprises. I’ve never felt so connected to my fanbase as I do now.”
“Not connected enough, it seems,” I added, under my breath.
“Well, it’s true that I’ve been getting off to them, but the relationship is reciprocal. I’ve heard from guys, wives, husbands, single girls, older folks who live alone, even one coed who had to move back from college to live with her parents and was so horny that hearing her parents going at it in their bedroom turned her on.”
“Luckily she had you to turn to,” I said.
I don’t think she heard me. She was indulging her natural need for self-copulation under the sheets.
“And don’t forget your sister,” I added.
She came.
“Is that the whole shebang?” I asked, wondering if she had any desire left for me. You know, her ole man lying there next to her, in the flesh, ready, willing and able to gratify her every lustful whim.
“That’s the hole shebangs,” she quipped, slapping her puss. I could hear how very wet she was.
“The hole who bangs?”
“Anyone and everyone.”
“How about this one?!” I asked, thumb pointing to my chest.
“You want me, Daddy?”
“How did you guess?”
“Then have me,” she said, holding her phone in one hand, spreading her legs as she lay missionary position on the bed, allowing me to enter her.
“Are you seriously texting while I fuck you?” I asked when she raised her other hand to the phone and was going at it with her thumbs.
“Does it bother you?”
“I’d like maybe ten percent of your attention.”
“You have one hundred percent of my pussy. Go to town.”
I didn’t stop going to Lola Down town, but I was frustrated.
“Who the hell are you writing to?”
“I have a following to satisfy, you know.”
“When you look behind you to see your following, I’m the first in line!”
She didn’t respond. She was engrossed in her text exchange.
“Are you at least sexting? – telling someone about how amazing I am in bed?”
“Yeah,” she said, unconvincingly.
“Tell the truth, Lo.”
“Well, I was actually telling a couple how sexy they are when they mutually get off to my pics.”
In my head I heard the lyrics, “Cause if you like the way you look that much, oh, baby, you should go love yourself.” But loving herself (or fucking herself) was exactly what she had been doing next to me for the past hour or so. I wanted her to respond to me.
“How about you tell me something?” I requested, not politely.
Again, she didn’t hear me. She was texting.
I pulled out.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as if I had just splashed ice water on her.
“I’m stopping.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re not into it.”
“I was into it. I was into you being in me.”
“I’m a whole person, not just a penis.”
“And I’m a hole for your penis. Put it in me.”
“Put down the phone.”
I was on my knees, looking down at her as her legs were spread with her knees on each side of me. She could see my cock dripping with her juices.
“Please, Daddy,” she whined. “Please fuck me.”
“Not until you put down the phone.”
“But it enhances the experience for me. Come on,” she said, reaching down between my legs and fondling my testicles, feeling how soaked they were. “You know you want it. I can feel how full you are. Just use me. Fill me up. Fuck me. Get your rocks off. Cum inside me.”
I couldn’t resist her voice, though I knew I should. I entered her again.
“That’s it, Daddy. Use your little girl. Drill that dirty whore.” She was saying the words as if reading a script. Her eyes were glued to her phone screen. She was typing again with her thumbs. “Yeah, Daddy. That’s it. Feels good, right?”
Speaking words to me, typing different words to some virtual lover. She was a polyglot.
I finally let myself go. I didn’t care anymore. I released my full load deep inside her. She held me for one second with one hand, pressing it to my back, and then was back at it – typing away.
I pulled out with a sploosh and she rolled onto her tum, her legs dangling in the air, her feet touching at the toes, her pussy dribbling my ejaculate out slowly.
She pulled her right hand away from the phone just long enough to rub it between her legs and then lick some of the cum off her fingers.
“I love you, Lo,” I said as I rolled over to go to sleep.
“You too, Daddio.”