A Brush with the Little Death

Posted on March 30, 2020 by Lola Down

[The mini-series Mount Bliss continues from Casual Encounters]

“Oh, I’m so tired. I’m sure I’ll sleep well tonight. I bet a construction crew banging away with a jackhammer wouldn’t wake me tonight! Good night.” Those words of Lily’s, spoken just before she went to sleep, were reverberating in Lo’s ears. Lo lay on her back, wide awake, thinking about those words. Was Lily trying to tell her and Collin something? “A jackhammer.” Hmmmm. Was she intimating that Collin could go at it with Lo in his bed? Was that permission? Or was she just casually saying that she was tired, unaware of her word choice? Lo couldn’t get the thoughts out of her mind. She considered and reconsidered. Do I sneak out of Lily’s arms and slide my way into Collin’s bed? Do I jill it here, in the darkness, next to Lily, across from Collin? Whatever she thought, falling asleep wasn’t one of the options. She was too excited at the moment. She looked over at Collin. Could he see anything in the darkness? She certainly couldn’t. Not yet. No motion. No silhouette. Was Lily asleep? Her breathing sounded as if she was.

Art by Suzie Freeman, Model, Lola Down

Lo could feel her pussy secreting little lust-drops beneath the sheets. She was in a strange state of arousal. The arousal stemmed from her inability to even move. A lithe Lily, nearly nude, lying next to her. A lumberjack of a man indistinctly there in the near distance of the darkness. And her own body, ready, waiting to be touched. Longing to be fucked. She thought about her nipples and how hard they were, unplucked in the draped stillness of the unlit room. Her neck, unkissed, her blood rushing through the veins to her head with a steady, fast pumping. Her earlobes, desirous of a tongue that would titillate them, of teeth that would nibble at them, and of close breath that would gently blow upon them. Her groin ached with pain in its uncaressed longing for a tongue, a finger, a cock. Anything, even her own soft sensation upon it, would do. But as she was, she could not even venture down there for a quick rub. This was a state of denial to which she was unaccustomed. Unaccustomed? No. Unacquainted. She never had to do this. Abstain, that is. At least not in recent memory. It had been so long since her last good pounding. Masturbation was fine, she thought, but fucking was finer.

The images swirled in her mind of cock, of Lily, of pussy, of her own hungry cunt. Porn, so close on her phone, but unthinkable to turn it on. She was turned on. Turned on to herself. She clenched her pussy tightly and released, trying, unsuccessfully, to induce a hands-free orgasm. She’d heard of it done, but had never tried it. Wait, that’s not true. There was that time on the Buddhist retreat, in seated meditation, when she figured out how to make herself cum without moving. But then she was seated in the lotus position. Now she was reclining, with a body cuddling her. Everything in the room seemed to scream of sex in the still, deafening silence.

She ever so carefully, so slowly, so gently removed the draped arm of Lily from over her torso and placed it with all due dexterity beside the body to which it belonged. She surreptitiously slid her bare legs over to the edge of the bed. She furtively felt for the carpeted floor beneath her. She found it. She sat up, silently. She assessed the situation. Lily sleeping. Collin alone in his bed. She snuck, slow as a sloth, from her bed to his. She got under the covers next to him. She gently kissed his shoulder, his bicep, he chest, his neck, his lips. His eyes opened without the slightest surprise. He kissed her back. She moved her hand down between his legs and felt his enormous, hard rod eager for her caress. She slid her palm up and down the shaft. Long, luxurious strokes. He kissed her more passionately. She positioned her body over his and slid down, her wet pussy dripping down the inside of her thighs. She felt the girth of his member stretch her lips wide as she shifted and rocked gently to accommodate all that he had to offer. In he entered, like a large rocket docking in the mothership. She took it tip to base, a satisfied grin on her face. He met her descending movements with ascending thrusts. Soon they became more forceful. He wanted to dominate her, to own her cunt with his cock. Using his strong arms, he rolled her over onto her tum in the bed and he got behind her. She positioned herself like a bitch in heat, waiting to take his firm meat between her fleshy pussy lips. He didn’t hold back. He entered with urgency. He entered with command. He entered her like a boss. She loved it. She lapped it up. He put his big hands on her hips and pulled her back so that now he was standing at the end of the bed, pounding her from behind. Bam, Bam, he rammed it home with complete disregard for the smacking sound his hips made against her round ass. Complete disregard for the fact that his young niece was sleeping in the bed next to them. He punished her with his cock and soon he was rhythmically ramming her like the jackhammer that Lily had mentioned. A quick whack, whack, whack, ever louder, ever faster. Lo couldn’t keep her pleasure to herself. She let out a moan, then a groan, then a scream. She met his every shove of his cock with a powerful reverse shove of her ass until she was dripping and squirting for the brief intervals that he was at the threshold of her labia. She was calling out to her god and asking for more, thanking her deities for the dick that punished her puss. She could see out of her peripheral vision in the darkness Lily propping up her head with her arm to watch in silence. She watched her uncle fuck her best friend. She watched as Lola squirmed and squirted, screamed and sighed. She watched as Collin beat the bum and swollen mons pubis of her sex-craved friend. She watched as both of them came with ecstatic delight and collapsed upon the soaked sheets of the hotel bed next to her. She watched with keen interest as they both panted for breath and then she said with a neutral tone of disinterested observation, “I think Lola likes you Uncle Collin.”

Actually, dear reader, none of that happened except in Lo’s racing mind as she struggled for release. Sorry to disappoint.

But then Lola got an idea. Yes. It was possible. That would do the trick. If she could only reach to the nightstand without disturbing anyone. She extended her right hand. She searched around for it, groping in the darkness. She found it! Yes. She pulled it back to her like Gollum grabbing the Ring that Rules Them All. Slowly, surreptitiously, secretly, she maneuvered it under the blankets, between her legs, into her wet, wide pussy. The shape and curvature of the handle of her hairbrush fit just so, snugly inside her where she could flex her Kegel muscles on it, giving her the sensation of a cock, deeply lodged inside her.

Good in a Pinch

Yes, yes, that was it. That was the spot she needed to hit. With her right hand she could gently move the brush, wiggling it side-to-side, up-and-down, deeper in, a little out.

She was perfectly primed and ready.

But wait! Of fuck! I hadn’t thought of this, I hadn’t planned on. . . fuuuuuuuuuuuck. The orgasm. The climax. The clenching of the walls of her cunt, pushing the brush handle out the way it pushes out cock when cumming hard. The inevitable squirting. Fuck fuck fuck! The gripping of the sheets with her fists. The biting of the lip. The convulsing of the stomach muscles. The necessity for silence. And then the great relief as the waves of pleasure and pain ebbed and flowed through her veins.

And then the embarrassment as Lily squeezed her tightly, kisses her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “It’s ok.”

Hallmark of a Happy Hotwife

Posted on March 19, 2020 by Lola Down

Lola helps her bf cum

Writing is a solitary act. Writing a sex blog is not. Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.

“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.

Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean? Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”

After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic. I love helping couples cum together.”

My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.

A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.

“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.

“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.

“Justin.”

“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”

Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.

“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.

“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”

“What is?”

“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”

“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”

“I recommend you get it hard.”

“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.

“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”

One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him. She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men. The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”

One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.

“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.

“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.

“Do men just want to see your pussy?”

“No,” she said, “women do too.”

“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”

She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“Oooo, what sort of game?”

“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”

“Funny, but no. Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”

“I can’t, I have to get to work.”

“Just bend me over and fill me up.”

“It’s not a Quickie Mart. I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”

“Why not?”

I walked over to her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart. I touched her inner thigh.

“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Then I should be doing you. I wanted you last night,” she said.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”

“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”

“You didn’t say you wanted me.”

“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”

“I like to hear you say it.”

She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed. She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips. “Get back in bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“What do you want?”

“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”

I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit. “OK.”

She fondled me more. “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”

“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”

“Fuck me.”

Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”

“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me. I’m always open.”

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a lot of things to do. You were just first on the list.”

I went to work. It was her “work at home” day. Yeah, right.

When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.

“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said. “Feed me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your meat.”

This was as close as a request as I was going to get. I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her. I reached down between her legs.

“You’re sopping wet.”

“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”

“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.

“I jilled it this morning.”

“Without me?!” Again, faux-surprise.

“I got lonely.”

“Lonely or horny?”

“Both.”

“So you jilled it all morning?”

“Not all morning. It went into the afternoon.”

“And you still want me now?”

“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.

“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”

“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”

“What do you think this is, golf?”

“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”

“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.

I was poised to penetrate her. She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit. She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.” Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that. Yes.” Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”

I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you. I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”

“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my lunch. That’s what I came home to do.”

“But what about me?” she whined.

“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”

“And diddling my bean!”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”

“Don’t go!” she pleaded.

“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”

“Get in the bed and fuck me.”

“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”

“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”

“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.

“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”

“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”

I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.

I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”

It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”

“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling out. “I’m going to go out for lunch.”

I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.

I popped back in and looked at her.

“Unarmed?” I asked.

Another pillow flew at me. I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.

Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”

“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”

“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”

I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”

When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.

“It’s not a sundress. It’s a shirt.”

“Well, it should be a sundress. What an ass! You look great in that sundress!”

“It’s not a sundress!”

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“No. But I think it’s cute that you want to.”

“You look so good. Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”

When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.

“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up. Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.

“What?”

“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”

“Robert?! Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I should have told you.”

“When did these plans happen?”

“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.

“Lo.”

“After you left. I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”

“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.

“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.

“No,” I said. “I’m tired and I’m hungry. I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”

“That still might happen,” she said. “The night is young.”

“And I’m old.”

“You can say that again.”

“And I’m old.”

“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”

“You weren’t even born then.”

“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you. I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you. You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”

I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.

Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.

“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.

“Did you jack off to it at work?”

“No!”

“Well why not? You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know. A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work. I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”

“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”

“Precisely.”

“But I can fuck you at home.”

“It’s not the same.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Robert was at the door.

“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.

“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.

“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”

“Not longer than an hour?”

“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”

I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out. “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.

Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”

I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table. No Robert.

She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.

One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”

“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’ You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”

“That’s funny,” she said to me.

“Shake a stick at?”

“Yeah.”

“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her. “How was your dinner date?”

She didn’t answer my question. She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.

She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me. She clearly wanted me to fuck her. But I wanted her to ask. She said, “You have to learn to intuit. Intuit! Intuit!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face. Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.

She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.

A breathy moan.

She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.

She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.

“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”

“Well, I think you need to take a break.”

“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”

“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”

“It enhances the experience.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.

She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.

She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife. “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”

“Such a sincere sentiment. It should go in a Hallmark card.”

“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.

“What is?”

“A line of Lola greeting cards.”

“Perhaps you could create them. I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”

And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s quite alright. Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm. Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”

“I’m sorry!” she said again.

“It’s ok. I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”

“It was hardly premature,” she said.

She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before. Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.

“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.

I couldn’t answer. I was too busy imagining her with Robert.

“Did you get a good meal? Did it fill you up? I was so full up,” she said.

I was speechless.

“Were you thinking of me, Daddy? Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me? Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”

“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”

“No, Daddy. We just fucked. He bent me over the table and fucked me. Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table. The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs. I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all. Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass. Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another. He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care. I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet. Fuck me! Fuck my holes! I said, but he came and came deep in me. He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”

She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum. And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously. So much that it came out of her nose. She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.

“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.” I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”

Lola’s Christmas Card

A Case of the Mondays

Posted on March 9, 2020 by Lola Down

A Case of the Mondays

Got the Horses in the Back

“Tonight I’m going out to dinner with some friends,” she said to me in the morning after I got out of the shower.

“OK.”

“I’m going to take the subway downtown from work.”

“How are you going to get to work?”

“That’s where you come in.”

“What?”

“You’ll give me a ride to work.”

“I will?”

“Yeah. I’ll make it worth your while,” she said as she spread her legs and stroked her labia.

“Are you proposing sex in exchange for a ride to work?”

“You give me a ride and I’ll give you a ride.”

I looked at her pussy. She said, “What?”

“Now I see where I cum in.”

“That’s right, Daddio. That’s where you cum in.”

“I wonder what you tell your Uber drivers.”

“We’ll find out tonight.”

Naked and still dripping wet from the shower, I got into bed with her. She was dripping wet for other reasons. I came within seconds.

“That was so quick. I hardly even warmed up,” she complained.

“I got what I bargained for.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen to make breakfast.”

“But, I want you.”

“You just had me.”

“I want you more.”

“Sorry, babe, there is no more.”

“But I need to get fucked.”

“I just fucked you.”

“I mean really fucked.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy.”

“I need a cock that can complement my cunt. Reach in the closet and grab my Remus. I’m going to ram that baby home so far that tonight I’ll be so stretched I won’t even feel a human cock in me.”

“Oh, we’re having sex again tonight? Very presumptuous of you.”

“I’ll be having sex, but I didn’t say it would be with you.”

I passed her the giant box containing her horse-cock dildo and went into the living room where I turned on “Old Town Road.”

Yeah, I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road
I’m gonna ride ’til I can’t no more
I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road
I’m gonna ride ’til I can’t no more

I got the horses in the back

I heard screams from down the hall. She was calling for me. I went into the bedroom and found her backing into the flared phallus attached to the headboard.

“That was fast,” I said, “It took me longer to make toast.”

Though she had already cum, she said, “I want your cock.”

“But we have to leave soon.”

“That’s ok, I want it to go.”

“To go? But you’re naked, filled to the hilt with an equine appendage.”

“I want it to go in my mouth.”

I humored her by unzipping my pants and pulling out my flaccid cock which she eagerly and easily cupped along with my balls orally. Her mouth came off of me with a ‘pop’ sound and she said, “Pass me the other dildo.”

Reached under the bed and pulled out her double-ended 16” toy and she licked it before manipulating it into her ass.

“Did you have breakfast?” she asked, looking up at me as she eased back on both dildos.

“I’m making it now,” I said.

“Well, I can be your double-stuff dessert.”

“I’ll leave you three to get better acquainted,” I said as I went to tend to my food.

Later, as she was getting dressed, she said “What are you looking at?”

“Your puss.”

“Well, you already got yours.”

“And you already got yours.”

“That thirty seconds? Believe me, it was nothing to write home about.”

“You write home about sex?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“I don’t.”

“No, you write books about sex.”

She was dressed and ready to go in about two minutes. “By the way,” she said, “you’ll have to change all the sheets later. I’d strip the bed myself, but I’m late.”

“I’ve never known you to pass up stripping for anything.”

“Well, there’s a reason why they call it Masturbation Mondays.”

“Who calls it that?”

“I do.”

“I’ve heard of Manic Monday, a case of the Mondays, and Sunday Scaries, but never Masturbation Mondays. Why do you call it that?”

“Cause, every Monday I have to continue my masturbatory sessions at work.”

“Of course you do. What about Tuesdays and Wednesdays?”

“Well, pretty much any day I go to work that ends in ‘y’.”

We were in the car on the way to her office and we hit a ton of traffic. Pissed at how much time I was taking out of my morning to drive her, I said, “Wow, you got a lot of work out of me for only thirty seconds of play.”

“The shorter the fuck, the more I should get for it.”

Birthday Sex

Posted on February 29, 2020 by Lola Down

After the fiasco that was our double date with Mark and Stephanie to see the play, In the Next Room, remarkably, we got an invitation to join them for dinner to celebrate Mark’s birthday. He was turning thirty-five and Stephanie had invited over three couples, including us. That made for eight people, including the man of honor and his lovely wife.

I saw Lola dolling herself up for the party and I said to her, “Look, I don’t want any shenanigans out of you tonight.”

“Can I have some shenanigans in me?”

“No!”

“Daddy,” she said in a sweet voice, putting her hand on my chest and rubbing it, “what are shenanigans?”

“Lo, don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Last time they were here, you broadcast your masturbatory movies over the speaker system and I had to make apologies to our guests. This time we are going to be their guests, so please just let it be an uneventful evening.”

“But that’s so boring, Daddy,” she pouted.

“Boring or not, I’m keeping you on a short leash.” I immediately regretted my choice of words.

Her ears picked up and her eyes opened wide, “A leash?! Yes,” she said, putting up her hands like a dog begging for scraps.

“We leave in five minutes,” I said, ending the exchange.

Eighteen and a half minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom wearing a sheer blouse and her cutoff denim shorts – cutoff a bit too short – high heels, and nothing but smooth, sexy skin between the shoes and the denim.

“You’re not actually wearing that, are you?”

She turned up her nose at me and said, “I certainly am! What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, if you’re dressed as Daisy Duke for Halloween. But this is a birthday dinner.”

Sheer Top

“Hrmph,” she grunted, defiantly. “It’s July and it’s hot and I’m hot and I’m wearing this.”

“But your shorts have holes in them,” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, my shorts have two holes in them, and if I’m lucky, I’ll get both of them filled.”

“That’s not what. . .” I gave up, exasperated.

When we arrived, around six, we rang the bell and were let in by Stephanie. She seemed very glad to see us and led us into the living room where everyone was congregated. We were the last to arrive.

To my great surprise, she hadn’t invited three couples. That, apparently, was my assumption. No. She had invited four other women and us. That still made for eight altogether, but it was six women, Mark and me. I was by far the oldest. All the women were in their thirties, except Lo, who was in her twenties. Mark and Stephanie had dropped their kids off with her parents and the only other member of the house was their dog who immediately took an interest in Lo, putting his snout in her crotch and sniffing as soon as we were in the door. My first thought was, “She’s not wearing panties under those shorts I bet.”

Short Shorts

We introduced ourselves and sat in the loveseat. Mark, the man of the hour, was seated in a large recliner. The other women and Stephanie were on the sectional couch. I immediately thought of an episode of “The Bachelor.” I felt like I was the T.V. camera viewing all these women vying for Mark’s attention. Apparently Lo wasn’t the only one with the hots for him. But why, I wondered, had Stephanie invited them all over? And why did she invite us?

Then I remembered what Stephanie had said to me the night she and Mark threw the Super Bowl party. With tears in her eyes, she said that she hadn’t had a sex drive since their second kid was born, but she wanted Mark to be happy. Was this a set-up for him? – Happy birthday, darling, have your pick of the women.

I could tell, just by looking at Lo and how she practically bared her breasts to Mark every time she reached for an appetizer on the coffee table, that she was mentally making the very same calculations as I. If that was Stephanie’s game, then Lo was keen on being the winner.

The conversation turned to the heat wave we were experiencing and Lo made some remark about how good the AC felt. As she said it, I could see her nipples clearly protruding through the thin white material of her blouse. Yep, she was cooling down alright, just as she was heating things up.

I was curious about these other four women. Who were they? I didn’t remember them from the Super Bowl party.

I eventually found out that Mark didn’t know them either. They were friends of Stephanie’s and new friends at that. Lo had an in; she was the oldest friend Mark had there, and also the youngest.

Stephanie brought drinks and Lo got more comfortable. She slipped out of her heels and I noticed that she had gotten a pedicure and manicure. Her little toes looked like shiny red candy, as did her fingernails.

Even with the AC on, the cold drinks had condensation dripping down the sides, and I suspect that that wasn’t all that was dripping.

Stephanie said she wanted to do presents before dinner and that we had to go outside for Mark’s gift.

We all filed out the front door except Stephanie. When we were in the front yard, we were all wondering what was going to happen. Suddenly the garage door opened and, voilà! Stephanie was standing by a Honda CG 150. “Ta-da!” she said.

Mark was super excited and he practically ran up to the bike and gave Stephanie a big kiss.

“Let’s go for a ride!” he said to her. But she declined, using getting dinner ready as an excuse. “Anyone?” he asked to us. Of course, Lola immediately volunteered.

Stephanie passed her a helmet and after Mark got on, she hopped on, swinging her right leg over the machine, practically exposing the two holes she had mentioned earlier. She slid up behind Mark, resting her hands on his broad shoulders.
“I thought you were terrified of motorcycles?” I asked her.

“I am. But I’ll just have to hold on tight,” she said, reaching around Mark’s waist.

Mark started the machine and revved it up and I saw how excited the sound made Lo. Off they went, the back of her bum peeking out of the top of her short shorts.

The rest of us went inside.

The other women went into the living room and I offered to help Stephanie with dinner.

“Hey Steph,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” she asked naïvely.

“The women, Lo?”

She put down the bowl of salad and turned to me. “HH, we had a talk last time you were here. You remember.”

I nodded my head.

“If he can’t be happy with me, then at least I can help him to be happy with someone else.”

“What do you mean not happy with you?”

“I see what’s going on. I know that he has needs that I just can’t fulfill. I see how he looks at Lo. I’m not dumb. I want him to be satisfied.”

“Sex is one thing,” I said, “but it’s not everything.”

“Right.” I couldn’t tell if that was a sarcastic “right” or just apathetic.

“So, he can be happy with you.”

“Well, I want to make sure that he’s happy with me.”

“I’m sure he is,” I said to her, reassuringly.

Meanwhile, on the motorcycle, Lo was holding on to Mark around the waist and, as they rode, her hands slid lower, little-by-little.

They turned down a road that drove down to a secluded lake in the woods. They hopped off the bike and took off their helmets.

“This is beautiful,” said Lo, looking out at the lake as the pink hues of dusk illumined the horizon.

Mark stood still, looking out over the equally placid lake. All that could be heard was the gentle rustle of leaves in the trees as the evening breeze filtered through the woods.

“You want to swim?” asked Mark.

“That sounds so good!” replied Lo as she began to slip out of her blouse and short-shorts.

She was naked before Mark even undid a button. “You weren’t kidding, were you?” asked Lo.

“Uh, um, no,” he said, “I was just watching you,” he said, a little startled, perhaps, at Lo’s eagerness and lack of panties.

“Well, come on then,” she said, helping him to undo his shirt buttons.

“How will we dry off?” he asked.

“On the bike,” she said. “Come on, it will feel good.”

She removed his shirt and then he undid his belt and slid him out of his jeans. He slowly took off his boxers to reveal to Lo the object of her fantasies.

“That’s it,” she said, biting her lower lip.

The two of them were naked and they went into the water.

“I just can’t get my hair wet,” said Lo as she led him in. “Mmmmm, it feels so good.”

They were in – Lo up to her belly button, Mark only up to his thigh.

She turned toward Mark and gave him a long, wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Mark didn’t resist. . . until the end. He then pushed her away.

“Lo,” he said.

“Fuck me,” she said.

“Lo,” he repeated.

“Fuck me, please.”

He was speechless. He turned and walked out of the water. Lo watched his sculpted back and buttocks as he did and then she followed him to the shore.

“Let me blow you,” she said, dropping to her knees. “Smack my face with your cock,” she said as she grabbed the hefty appendage and proceeded to use it in the way she described. It remained flaccid in her hands.

“Lo,” he said one more time, “I can’t do this.”

She looked up at him from below, her lips slightly open, ready, hungry, wanting to take it in her mouth.

“Lo,” said Mark, as his gentle hand encouraged Lo to stand up, “I love Stephanie. I know she’d be happy for me to have you or one of the other women she invited over.”

Lo pouted at the mention of them.

“But I can’t. I know I have flirted with you and led you on, but I just can’t. It would be wrong.”

He didn’t have to say any more. Lo knew that the game was over, though she stole lusty glances at his lengthy instrument.

They walked to the bike and Lo said, “Put the clothes over here. We’ll air dry.”

They both got on the machine naked. Mark started it up and they rode through the still evening air by the vacant lake. Lo couldn’t help but reach around and grab at Mark’s cock on the bike. He didn’t seem to mind.

After a quick drive, they returned to the clothes, got off the bike and got dressed in silence before Lo said, “Mark, I understand how you feel and I respect it, but it’s such a shame. . .” she trailed off.

Getting back on the bike and driving back to Mark’s birthday party, Lo held on to Mark, tightly, but above the crotch.

When they returned, we had dinner – a BBQ in the backyard. At one point, Mark and I were alone. Lo had informed me privately earlier about their exchange by the lake. I said to Mark, “You’re a lucky man to have a woman like Stephanie.”

“And you’re lucky to have a woman like Lo.”

“Oh, I don’t have her. She has me. That’s for sure.”

“Well, then you’re lucky she has you,” he said.

“Yes, I am.”

“I bet she is amazing in bed,” he confided.

I took a sip of my G&T and said, “You have no idea.”

“I’d like to have an idea,” he said.

So I gave him a little birthday gift. I told him, “When we fuck – and she likes to fuck often – she’ll lie on the bed and tell me how much she needs my cock. I’ll slide in her wet and wide pussy. She’ll slide her right hand into her puss until both her hand and my cock are snug in there. And then, with her other hand free, she’ll look at your pictures.”

“No!” he said.

“I kid you not.”

“Really?!”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. If I’m not mistaken, I think Lo got you an extra-special birthday gift.”

After the party was over and Lo and I were at home, I told Lo about my chat with Mark.

“I can’t believe you said those things about me!”

“Why not? They’re true.”

“Because,” she said with attitude, “when you write, your words are so much more poetic.”

“Sorry, dear, I read better on the page than in person.”

“That’s the difference between you and me,” she said, “I’m always better in the flesh,” she said as she bent over to show me just how short her shorts are.

“Well, he’ll just have to settle for the two-dimensional Lo,” I said as I slapped her ass hard.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked, waiting for more punishment.

“You’re not fooling anyone, dear. I saw your wrapped present for him.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” she said, looking up at me from between her legs.

“Yeah, and it looked just like the latest Match, Cinder & Spark.”

She stood up and said, “Well, you’re wrong.”

“Really? What was it then?”

“It wasn’t just the latest Match, Cinder & Spark, it was both volumes: IV and V.”

“Feeling generous, were you?”

“When I’m the gift, there’s no point to being stingy.”

“Then why didn’t you give him volumes I-III?”

“I want him to come back for more. Now fuck me, Daddy. I’m way overdue for a good pounding. And if you are good, I’ll tell you the details about my ride with Mark.”

Protected: Breeding Farm

Posted on February 3, 2020 by Lola Down

Open Auditions

Posted on November 5, 2019 by Lola Down

Littlegem of PurplesGem reads about Lola Down

As I have mentioned in the past, we receive a lot of fan mail. Most of it is for Lo, of course, but, on occasion, I receive a kind epistle from an adoring fan. Sometimes, the cursory reader gets confused. Like the time a guy wrote to Lo saying, “You’re an incredible writer.”

She wrote back, “No, no. Not me. My man, HH. He does the writing, I do the fucking.”

Lo and HH – much younger.

Recently, one fan of my writing wrote in asking if Lo ever gets enough pleasure and, “Do you ever get tired of writing about sex or is it always fresh for you?”

Lo was sitting on the couch reading the email, her bare legs spread as one hand held her phone and the other pleasured herself (she never gets enough pleasure – there’s the answer to your first questions), when she looked up at me, sitting at the other end of the couch, to read to me the fan’s email.

I pondered for a moment, we discussed it a bit, and she responded, “We have these amazing adventures that we just want to share with other people. I guess it’s like a travel blog, but for sex. We like to take you on our journeys with us.”

“How about we make it more like a food blog?” I asked Lo. “I eat you out and then I can write about the four-course meal later.”

“Four courses?”

“Yeah: pussy, ass, mouth, and then you lick my popsicle for dessert.”

“As much fun as that sounds, slide over here and look at this,” she said.

She spread her legs wider and I sat between them. One of her legs was up on my lap and the other behind my back. “I like this,” I said, looking at her delectable body.

“You might like this even more because it appeals to your insatiable ego.”

“Oh yeah? Well, you have my attention now!”

“I didn’t before?”

“Before you had my erection.”

“Let me see,” she demanded.

“No. First you show me whatever it is that’s going to aggrandize my ego.”

“I said ‘appeal to your ego.’ It’s impossible aggrandize. I don’t think it could get any bigger.”

“Are we still talking about my ego?”

“Take a look at this,” she said, turning her phone so I could see the photo.

It showed a beautiful naked woman reading, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume: III, Writing Under Cover.

“Oh my! Who is that?!”

“Littlegem,” she said, referring to one of our blogging community friends across the pond.

“Really?”

“You like?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically. It’s one thing to be told that my writing turns people on, but to see it happening is quite thrilling.

“And that’s not all,” said Lo, swiping the photo to reveal another. The second photo was in black-and-white.

“Wow!”

“OK,” said Lo, “I was wrong. Apparently there was room for your ego to grow.”

“Something’s growing alright.”

“Then I shouldn’t tell you what else Littlegem said.”

“Tell, tell!”

“Well. . . she said she wants to do a recording of her reading your writing while having her clit teased.”

“Like Stoya did for ‘Hysterical Literature’?”

Stoya Reading MySexLifeWithLola

“Don’t mention her.”

“Oh, right. Still, that’s amazing!”

“I think it would be great because I got an email from another fan who is blind.”

“Blind?!”

“Yes, blind.”

“How the hell did he find our blog?”

“Apparently, he has someone read the stories for him.”

“Oh my God! That is one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard!!!”

“Yeah,” said Lo, “and it got me thinking. We should totally do an audio book since I’m sure there are lots of long-distance haulers who would like to have me as their companion across the lonely stretches of highway.”

“I’m sure they would.”

“And people who want to hear about my sexcapades on their way to work.”

“The morning drive will never be the same.”

“And insomniacs who could use a good bedtime story.”

“Nothing like a good wank at the end of a long day to induce sleep.”

“So you see, it’s really necessary for everyone’s well-being that we do this.”

“Indubitably. And are you going to be the one to record the stories?”

“Oh no!” said Lo. “I’m no actor. All my orgasms are real.”

“Of course. Then who?”

“I’ll put out a call for open auditions.”

[Note to reader, if you haven’t checked out PurplesGem yet, you really should. They’re a great BDSM/kink couple. Great writing and photos. Below are some of our favorite photos from them, with permission, of course.]

[p.s. – If YOU want to audition for our audiobook, then go to ACX.com and look for “Match, Cinder & Spark.” If you can’t find it, email us: downloladown@gmail.com]

Absolution

Posted on October 29, 2019 by Lola Down

[Continued from “Holding on Comes Easy“]

Last I remembered, Lo had engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between Robert and me. When I woke in the morning, she was sound asleep, her back toward me, and Robert had his hands around her waist. I was turned toward them, my arm drooped over her side, my hand fondling her breast, and my cock rigid and eager for more attention.

I carefully extricated myself from the bed, found a robe and quietly went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

As I sat down to take my first sip, Lo suddenly appeared in the kitchen wearing one of Roberts t-shirts and nothing else. She was carrying a bundle of clothes.

“Here,” she said, passing the clothes off to me.

“And a good morning to you too,” I said sarcastically.

“Get dressed.” They were my clothes.

“What?”

“Get dressed. You have to get out of here.”

I was perplexed. “What do you mean I. . .”

“Imogen is still sleeping. When she wakes up, she can’t find you here. Remember, she thinks I’m Robert’s girlfriend and you’re just Robert’s friend. You have to go home.”

“Are we still putting on that little ruse?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, why don’t I just crawl into bed with Imogen?”

Lo gave me an angry look.

“Ok, Ok,” I said. “I’ll get dressed and go.”

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek to show her appreciation. “Don’t worry, Daddy,” she said, “I will make it up to you.”

My cock must have liked her tone because it immediately popped up like a little puppy who just heard the treats bag open.

“Nope, none of that now,” said Lo curtly, before turning tail and returning to the bedroom with Robert.

I dutifully got dressed and went home to shower, have more coffee, and nurse my hangover.

Sometime later I got a call from Lo. She sounded out of breath.

“Lo?”

Pause. “Yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

Pause. “Yeah.”

“Are you at Robert’s?”

Pause. “Yeah.”

“Are you fucking?”

“Yes, Daddy, he’s behind me, fucking my ass now. What would you like us to do next?”

I won’t deny that I was titillated by the call, but I was also furious. I was home, hard-up and hungover, while she was being banged by her backdoor man.

“I want you to tell me you love me.”

Long pause. “I – I – I love you, Daddy,” I heard.

I put the phone down for a moment and hurriedly grabbed my Stoya Fleshlight, some lube, and picked up the phone again. Lo was screaming. I could hear Robert smacking her ass.

“Daddy, I love you,” she repeated.

I slid the prosthetic vagina down on my cock. I held the phone with my left hand and slid the contraption up and down with my right. I listened to Lo getting fucked. She was calling out, “Harder. Harder. Deeper. Cum in my ass. Cum deep in my ass.” As she was saying that, I thought of how Robert came in her mouth after fucking her ass yesterday.

“Daddy,” she said into the phone, “I want him to cum in my ass. Do you want him to cum in my ass too?”

My eyes were shut. I was vividly imagining her bent over his dresser, Robert behind her, looking at her tits swinging in the mirror as he fucked her from behind. I pictured her left hand holding the phone to her ear and her right hand moving back to her ass, pulling her right cheek to spread as wide as she could go for him to bury his long dick in her bum. Maybe she was fingering her hole as well.

I heard her ramping up, going into the overture to her orgasm.

I slid Stoya’s cunt up and down more vigorously and I could feel my cuckolded cum rising to the surface. Lo launched into her operatic aria and I could hold out no longer. I came and came deep inside Stoya as Robert came deep inside Lola.

A perfect triple play!

After we all were able to bask in the beauty of the trifecta, Lo stayed on the phone with me as Robert went to clean up.

“Did you like that, Daddy?” she asked.

“You. Are. Amazing,” was all I could say.

“Do you like seeing him make me cum, Daddy?”

“I didn’t see you,” I said, confused.

“I meant yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You’re a dirty, dirty girl.”

“Am I bad?”

I changed the topic, fearing she’d get all riled up again. “Is Imogen still there?” I asked.

“Oh her? No. She woke up, I think a little embarrassed and very hungover, and we called her a cab. She only had fragments of memory from last night, but she asked me to say something nice to you.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“She really just said, ‘Say something nice to him.’”

I laughed and she did too. Apparently all was forgiven. Nothing absolves me of my transgressions like Lola’s seducing men to sodomize her.

The Perfect Coffee Table

Posted on September 6, 2019 by Lola Down

Friday and finally all my meetings were over. I flew home that night. I hadn’t heard from Lo since the previous night when she enigmatically told me that she had dinner with Robert. I was eager to see her. I was hard-up and aching for release. On top of that, there was the tantalizing mystery of what happened on her “date” with Robert. Just to make matters worse, fate so ordained it that on my flight home I was seated next to a young, attractive college girl wearing a tight fitting miniskirt and a low cut blouse. Her breasts were full and, when placing her carryon in the storage compartment above, she stretched and revealed a delectable midriff and even some under-boob. When we sat down, she saw that I was reading Fast Girl, the book by Suzy Favor Hamilton about her life as a high-end Vegas escort and her sex addiction.

“What is that?” she asked, naively, but with a hint of being in-the-know.

“It’s a memoir,” I said tersely. Her interest made me nervous. Her looks made me more nervous. Her age made me simply petrified – in every sense of the term.

“I think I’ve heard of it. It’s about. . .” her brow wrinkled with the struggle of recall.

“A woman who leads a double-life as a devoted wife and mom and as a prostitute.”

“Oh,” she said, shocked at my candor. She quickly followed it up with a smile and, “Do you like it?”

There was a mischievousness to her question that indicated to me that she wanted to know what turns me on.

“It’s my homework,” I said, as if that negated any pleasure I may derive from it.

“Homework?” she asked. “What class are you in?” She wanted to enroll.

“My girlfriend assigned it to me. She said it would help me understand her better. The last assignment was Getting Off, about a woman addicted to self-pleasure through humiliation porn.”

“Girlfriend?” she asked. “Aren’t you married?” she inquired while indicating my wedding band. Clearly she was interested in more than my reading material.

“Oh that,” I said, “I wear it to keep the ladies away.” My standard line.

“Yeah right,” she said. “Every guy knows that nothing attracts single women like a man who’s spoken for.”

“You got me there,” I said. She was attracted. This would be a l-o-n-g flight.

“I wish,” she said under her breath. “So, your girlfriend – or whatever – is addicted to porn?”

“I don’t know that she’s addicted to porn. She likes porn. But she definitely is addicted to pleasure.”

“I know the feeling,” she said.

“Is that so?”

“Would you like to know the feeling?”

“Look,” I said, “what’s your name?”

“Kayla,” she said. Of course her name was Kayla.

“Look Kayla, I’m already involved with a nymphomaniac. It takes every ounce of my energy, focus, concentration, devotion, love, and chi to satisfy her. . . and still I come up short. I appreciate your interest. I really do, but I’m on my way back home to see her, and, well, to be honest, the beautiful batting of your eyelashes is very well and good, but I’ve got a perfect slut waiting for me at home.”

If this attractive, flirty, young woman had been sitting next to me on the departure flight, when I was more mad at Lo than missing her, things may have been different. Even then, the fact is, no matter how angry I am with her, I still love Lo. And I know, no matter how attractive other women may be, the witty repartee that Lo and I have is inimitable.

I tried to make my position clear. She accepted the boundaries I had set. But she switched gears and now asked me all about Lo. I gladly told her. It was probably my best in-flight conversation. By the time we landed, despite our fight or because of it, I wanted Lo more than ever. (I gave Kayla the blog address, just so she could see for herself how it’s done.)

I got home and as soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in for trouble. Lo wasn’t talking to me except monosyllabic words. “Hi.”

“How are you?” I asked.

“Fine.”

You get the gist. But she was dressed in a pink sleeveless t-shirt and her black lace panties. That’s it. She pranced around with her hard nipples poking through the front of her shirt, her side-boobs bouncing and peeking out from the open underarms. She. Looked. Good.

I was hard.

I wanted her.

I needed her.

I had no idea how to approach her.

So I took the direct approach: “You wanna fuck?”

“Your seduction technique is so subtle, yet captivating,” she said.

I knew I was making good progress because captivating is four syllables.

“Yeah,” I said, nonchalantly.

“Then why are you still wearing your clothes?”

I stripped and she pulled down her panties.

Her pussy was smooth, shaven, pink and beautiful.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked.

“This?” she asked, stroking her lovely mons pubis.

“Yeah,” I said, “that.” For a moment I was under the impression that she was anticipating my return and that she had shaved for me. She disabused me of that notion right away.

“I told you,” she said, “I was seeing Robert last night.”

We were in the bed now. I was looking down at her lovely body. “You did that for Robert?”

“Semper fi,” she said.
“Semper fi?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yeah,” she said, “Always prepared; the motto of the marines.”

“Semper fi means ‘always faithful.’”

“Oh,” she said. “Whoops!”

“You can say that again. So, were you faithful?”

“Fuck me and I’ll tell you.”

I was arched over her and I enjoyed looking at her beautiful body as her hand guided my protruding member up and down her wet labia. “Come on, Daddy,” she said, “fuck me. You know you need it. Take it.”

I penetrated her. From the feel of things, she needed me as much as I needed her.

Once I had fully engorged her, I asked, “So, what happened last night?”

She was too busy enjoying my rod. She came within seconds.

I waited for her to catch her breath. “Tell me,” I commanded.

“I met him at his house,” she said in her breathy voice.

“What were you wearing?”

“A short skirt. My leather boots. A tight top.”

“Go on.”

“I met him there. He kissed me hello.”

“On the lips?”

“Yes.”

“Mighty forward of him.”

“I made sure it was on the lips.”

“Oh.”

“We talked a little and then he drove us to the restaurant. I think he liked being seen in there with me. It looked like a first or second date, I’m sure.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Him, mostly. His needs. His wants. His desires.”

“Oh, so you talked about you.”

“You could say that.”

She came again. Nothing excites her as much as she.

“And then?”

“We went back to his place. He invited me in. He offered me a drink. We sat on the couch. Before I finished my first drink, we were making out. His hands were under my top, feeling my breasts, pulling my nipples.”

Too much! I came.

As I pulled out of her and rolled on my back, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to wait to hear how the night ended.”

“Uh-uh,” I said, “You’re going to finish this slut-saga tonight.

“Only if you’ll fuck me again.”

“Start talking. You know what your words do to me.”

She moved closer to me and her index finger twirled around my flaccid cock as she spoke:

His fingers were running up and down my clit over my panties. Within a couple of strokes, my panties were soaked. He could feel it.

‘Why have you held out on me all this time?’ I asked Robert as he was feverishly trying to slide my panties over my boots.

He got them off and he was trying to remove my skirt, but it has a zipper in the back. I kissed him and slowly stood up, turned around, and let him unzip it. The skirt fell to the floor and he felt my bare ass with his hands and then he began kissing it.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he said. ‘Even more beautiful than in your photos.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, turning around to face him. He saw my silky smooth pussy. He kissed it. I came. I came hard just from the light touch of his lips on my soft triangle. I had to grab his shoulders to steady myself. I pulled his head in to my tum and he kissed me as he slowly removed my shirt. He sucked on my tits as I stood totally naked before him.

‘Here I am, bare as the day I was born,’ I said, ‘and you have all your clothes on.’

I began unbuttoning his dress shirt. I got him out of it and out of his t-shirt. I then got him to stand as I got on my knees and I undid his belt, his pants button, his fly, and slowly pulled down his trousers. I could see his enormously long cock in his boxers. I wanted it. I pulled down his boxers and there it was, just as I remembered it. It was beautiful, but it was as soft as you are right now.

I was soft, but getting harder. “He did tell us that he has a performance problem,” I said.

“Yeah, I know,” she said. “I sucked on it and gave it my best blowjob, but damn it all, I couldn’t get it hard.”

“Really?!” That was a first.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Please demonstrate,” I asked. “Perhaps there is a problem with your technique.”

That really pissed her off. Never insult Lo’s skills in the bedroom, or any other room.

She put her mouth on my cock and said, “I have impeccable technique.” That she did. She worked on my slack slinky and it slowly regained some rigidity.

As she lifted her soft lips off my stuff, she said, “He didn’t respond to my loving labia, so I got under him and opened wide, taking his huge balls in my mouth. That he liked. It got an immediate reaction.”

“You are fond of instantaneous reviews.”

“He then guided me to the bedroom where. . .”

“No, wait,” I interrupted, “let me get in you now.” I was hard-up and wanted to hear the end of her story from a position that would allow me to gage her level of excitement. I slid my arousal-meter inside her and she continued.

“We got into bed and, well, he was still having difficulty performing. I asked him, ‘Do you want to look at some porn together?’”

“You wanted it bad, didn’t you?” I asked.

“I’m always up for porn,” she said, nonchalantly. “And he was too. He pulled up the blog.”

“Our blog?!”

“Yes. What other blog?”

“OK.”

“And we scrolled through some pics together. He settled on one of you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. And he got hard.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No I’m not. I asked him, ‘You like his cock?’ and he said, ‘Yes.’”

“You wouldn’t put me on like that, would you?”

“I swear,” she said, sincerely. “I asked him more about it and he told me that he thinks his problem might be that he’s gay. He said he likes being with women, but he gets turned on by looking at guys.”

“So what did you do?”

“We looked at some more porn together, mostly gay porn, cuck porn, and swinger porn. He eventually turned me over, doggy-style, put his laptop on my back, and fucked me from behind.”

“He used you like a coffee table?!”

“Well, if someone invented a cross between a coffee table and a fuck doll, then, yes.”

“Good idea.”

“And then he asked me if he could go in my ass.”

“The audacity of that man!”

“And I said yes.”

“You little slut.”

“Yes, Daddy. Say it again. You’re turning me on.”

“You skank. You trollop.”

“He went in my ass and then he asked, very politely, if he could cum in me.”

“You anal whore. I bet you wanted him to.”

“Well, I had cum so many times by that point, it only seemed fair.”

After she said that, I came, not in her ass, but deep in her, for the second time.

“I’m glad you were able to be so charitable while I was away,” I said. I have to admit, I felt a twinge of jealously and, for a moment, I regretted not taking advantage of my opportunity on the plane.

“Why didn’t you sleep over?” I asked her.

“It had been a long time since I had anal sex,” she began to say.

“Don’t I know it,” I added.

“And so I wanted to go home to clean up. I’m sorry, but I may have made a bit of a mess on your car seat.”

“You mean, Robert’s mess.”

“Yes, Daddy. Are you mad?”

“Lo, I can never stay mad at you.”

“But are you mad now?”

“No, Lo. I’m actually perfectly content.”

Clickbait

Posted on August 9, 2019 by Lola Down

“What’s there to eat in the fridge?” I call to her through the bathroom door. I had just gotten home from work and I was famished.

“Nothing,” she calls back as I hear the squeak of her opening the valves to take a shower.

“Nothing?! I saw a cucumber in the bottom right drawer.”

“Oh, that’s not for eatin’,” she says. “Come to think of it, will you bring it to me darling?”

Good grief. I get the green gourd from the fridge for her and a cold beer for me. I pass her the vegetable when she extends her hand through the narrow opening of the door.

“Can’t I see you?” I ask.

“No.”

“You do know that I’ve seen you naked before? Most of the internet has seen you naked before. Probably most of our neighbors have seen you naked before.”

“I have my shower cap on.”

“Oh, well then.”

The door shuts. I sit down to read and sip my beer and await her exit from the bathroom. And wait. And wait. After her repeated cries to God and profanities that I imagine were directed at her pleasure-bearing plant, I hear the waterspout squeak off.

Finally she emerges.

I whistle at her. “You look half as good in your clothes as you do out of them.”

“That’s insulting!”

“Would you prefer the opposite: You look twice as good in your clothes as you do out of them?”

“How about you just say I look fabulous.”

“You look fabulous, darling. And delicious. I had no dinner. Can I please eat you from bottom to top?”

“Oh, Daddy, I have to catch my breath,” she says, lying naked on the bed next to me.

“You do that and I’ll caress your snatch with my tongue.”

She puts her laptop over her shaved triangle and opens it up.

“Darling,” I ask, “what are you doing now?”

“Just checking some email and sprucing up some social media accounts.”

Dejected, I get up off the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking off my work clothes and. . .”

“Getting naked?” she asks, licking her lips.

“If that would please you.”

“Will you lie next to me?”

“As you wish,” I say, somewhat sarcastically.

I sit next to her, reading my book as she scrolls through pages with her right hand. Her left hand is resting on my cock. It grows in her palm. I put down my book and turn on my side, rhythmically fucking her fist. Unconsciously, she allows it, but doesn’t enthusiastically respond to it. She’s engrossed in whatever it is she’s reading.

After a couple of moments, I look at what is on her screen. It’s a page of nearly naked women.

“What is that?” I ask.

“You’ve never seen a woman before?”

“Not until I laid eyes on you, darling.”

“Funny.”

“What is that page?” I ask with more specificity.

“Oh,” she says, “I created a Pinterest page.”

“I can’t help but notice, I’m nowhere on it.”

“Do you like it?”

“The pics of you, yes.”

Just as I was enjoying seeing her in the naked flesh next to me, and also her pixilated portrait resting just above her pink vulva on her laptop computer, she scrolls away from the page. And, to make matters worse, she removes her hand from my hard rod.

“Now what are you doing?” I ask.

“It’s well known that lists create web traffic and a fan asked me to list six facts about my body.”

“Clickbait,” I respond.

“You can call it that,” she says, but I think I’m the real bait. Clitbait, you might say.” She strokes her bean under the computer as she says it.

She returns her hand to the keyboard and writes:

Six Facts About My Body:

It is an instrument of pleasure.
It is a canvass for cum.
It inspires creativity.
It drives people crazy.
It drives me crazy.
I love it.

“Not bad,” I say.

She ignores my compliment because now she is engaged in answering emails.

One guy asks, “Who are you?”

“Cum and find out,” writes Lo, followed by, “Wait, reverse that.”

Another guy sends a dick pic. Lola tells him that if he is going to do that, he has to send one with her photo in the frame. He replies, “I don’t usually send dick pics.”

“I bet you say that to all the sluts,” she replies snidely.

I can see that she is getting excited. Her right hand moves to her chest and she pulls at her nipples, making them erect.

“Looks like you’re ready to give some pointers,” I say.

Another fan read the story, “Divine Destinies,” about Lo’s immaculately pure pink posterior flower. He wrote to Lo requesting some steamy chat, adding that, “I love to talk about dirty things.”

Lo, taking offense at this, replies, “Are you suggesting that the pinnacle of my success is ‘dirty’?”

“Lo,” I say, “turn over and I’ll take a pic of my tongue deeply penetrating your perineum and we’ll show him how you’re more beautiful than Charlene and Mr. Clean.”

She chuckles and asks, “How the hell do you know that song?”

“My brain isn’t as old as my body.”

“If by that mean you mean that you’re immature, then you’re right.”

“Roll over.”

She closes her laptop and I think I’m in luck, but then she takes out her phone. She does turn onto her tum and begins going through photos from fans. “I just need a little something to wet my whistle, if you know what I mean,” she says, as she puts her right hand down between her pussy lips and strokes, then, using that natural lubricant, moves to her porn star.

She passes me the phone and says, “Look what I found in my in-box!”

I, looking at both her boxes intently at that moment, take the phone from her.

“Read it aloud,” she says, “I’m all ears. . . and vagina.”

I see a long email from a fan, a woman named “Jen X.” It reads:

Lola,

You are a much curvier, sexier, more luscious version of Audrey Hepburn. Think about it, HH is Gregory Peck. And you, my dear friend Lo, you are a Princess.

You’re so innocent. He’s older than you. He’s a writer, a professor, a man of mind, body, soul and spirit. He’s brilliant. You are his muse. He is obsessed in the best possible way by you. You dominate his thoughts, his feelings, his emotions. You go further than he could possibly believe now…you’re so deep in his consciousness; as deep as his dick passionately penetrating the walls of your strong, shaking, quivering pussy.

Because of the way HH writes about you and your magnificent personality, I want you! I have a deep desire to have you pop my girl-on-girl cherry. However, HH has got to be there and ease us through it. I want him to watch us, jerk off, and then we both share his cum.

He just channels your soul’s sexiness, your perfect pair of tits, your sweet soft strong flexible box, and your behind. Your behind forces him to forget anything that isn’t about you. He loves not just looking at you, he loves to take you with his eyes. In his mind he is cumming into every atom of your being.

HH is a Voyeur. He’s a genius. And I have a crush on HH because I’m perfectly straight, yet I adore you Lo, I truly do, because you are one of the funniest, most caring, sexiest women in the world. I feel your sexiness and your body through HH and I want both of you!

I have never had a FFM. I’ve had two MMF trysts in real life, but the guys freaked out about touching each other. I’m not saying a need a bi male partner. I would love that, however, the way you yank me into your stories…WOW! I want to co-write a hot story of Lola introducing me to you. I believe this should be a gift from us to you.

Lola’s the hottest thing since fire! – classy, highbrow, but with a twisted, kinky, warped sense of humor. Imagine the Magical Kink Fest Lola and I could create for you.

HH, I need you to pitch your fantasy for this erotic project I’m co-creating with your sweet innocent lollipop licking Lola.

Let me know if you want my company in your bedroom or dungeon.

Kisses babes,

Jen X

As I read the lusty letter, Lo is having finger fun time between her legs and her feet are working in tandem to stroke my cock. The words are so poetic and prurient that I very nearly cum. Lo can feel it and she turns and says, over her shoulder, “I just got out of the shower. I didn’t wash my hair and I don’t intend to today. If you cum, don’t cum in my hair.”

“Do you think Audrey Hepburn ever said that to Gregory Peck?”

“Look, I aim to please, so please be sure to aim.”

Just as she says it, I take aim and hit my mark, right between her shoulder blades.

After I recoup, I get up and go to the bathroom to clean myself off. There, on the sink, is her giant cucumber. “Do you think this is still ok to eat?” I call to Lo.

“What, your cock?”

“Well that too, but I was referring to your veggie vagina filler.”

“Oh, I’m not done with it yet. Toss it here.”

I do so and I also return to the bedroom to get dressed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks as she stuffs herself full of the jolly green giant.

“To the store to get something for dinner. Do you want anything?”

“How about an eggplant. This is not nearly enough to feed me.”

Beach Bum

Posted on June 27, 2019 by Lola Down

“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.”

mysexlifewithlola

The trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.

Category Archives: giant cock

A Brush with the Little Death

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Beach Bum

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