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.

Sexy Sushi

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.

Nipple Twist

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.

The union of all things

Polyglot

Markus Apegren painting

 

“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.”

a hung fan

“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.”

Lola pumps

May is Masturbation Month – Mrs. Tastykakes

Mrs. Tastykakes

She’s married.  She’s a mom.  She’s bi.  She’s sexy.  She’s a MILF and a hotwife.  And she has an OnlyFans page that allows her to share all her kinky allure with the world.

Her name is Tastykakes and she recently reached out to us to be part of the “May is Masturbation Month” promotion.

She got her copy of Match, Cinder & Spark – Volume V: Shorter Shorts.

Mrs. Tastykakes

As she tells the story:

My hubby and I were at home the night it arrived.  I had torn into the packaging eagerly and pulled out the book.  I began reading on the bed and he was behind me, fucking me, trying to read over my shoulder, but really he could only see the sexy photos.  I was reading the story, ‘Spring Showers,’ about how Lo went for a walk in April and suddenly had to stop in her tracks due to ‘accidental squirting.’  It gave me an idea.  It was April.  It was warm out.  I was feeling slutty and sexy like Lo.  ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I suggested to him, mid-coitus.

‘Can I cum first?’ he asked, or rather, pleaded.

‘Only if you cum in me,’ I said.

He thrust two or three more times before cumming deep in my cunt.

I threw on a sheer, oversized top and nothing else.  We walked out into the sultry evening air and I could feel his cum oozing down my inner thigh.

Instead of sexy photos with the book taken inside, we found a few places for a little exhibitionist show.  The entire time, my leg was wet and sticky as his load kept coming, mixed with my juices as I was so excited to be taking a dangerous photo shoot in the courtyard of our building.  I wonder if our neighbors saw.  I sure hope so.

Mrs. Tastykakes

 

 

Mrs. Tastykakes

 

Mrs. Tastykakes

 

Mrs. Tastykakes

See more of Mrs. Tastykakes here:

https://www.flowcode.com/page/mrstastykakes

Mrs. Tastykakes and Lover

Swing

[The following story, which took place a few years ago, was published in the March edition of ENM Magazine – Ethical Non-Monogamy.  Unfortunately, despite heroic efforts by its publisher, this month is the last month of its short existence.]

Lo’s Green Dress from ENM spread

Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago, where the river runs green and the jazz of a bygone era still swings.  Lo and I had gone there for Lily and Jim’s wedding.  It was an extravagant affair.  All the quaint rituals and odd practices of the public betrothal symbolizing holy monotony.  I mean monogamy.  I mean matrimony.  Sorry, I struggle to find the right words sometimes.  All the focus on the bride as an unblemished princess performing for her solid, stoic king.  There’s just something about it that provokes the puckish prankster in me.  Especially when I know that the beautiful bride in her pure white gown has a devilish desire for exceptionally large cock and that her groom comes up short. 

But Jim is a good friend of mine and a sometime paramour of Lo’s, so we took added delight in the carnal knowledge that behind all the nuptial vows, the oaths of fidelity, and the pomp of the ring ceremony, both Lily and Jim hadn’t any plans of restricting their bodies and pleasures only to the one legally bound to them.

So, as all the other guests let out gentle expressions of awe and shed a tear in reflection of this display of love and affection, I grinned a wicked little grin as I sipped my expensive scotch.

Lo saw my mischievous look and rubbed her leg up against mine under the table, indicating that she had some ideas of her own.

We both knew Lily and Jim to be swingers and so, when the formalities were over and the dancefloor opened up for revelry, Lo missed no opportunity to scandalize the evening.

We sat at the table next to the newlywed couple.  Rather than the usual choice of two entrées, there was a choice of four and so people were passing bites from their plates around for each other to taste.

“You are so generous!” said one guest to me after I let her have a bite of my food.

“Whenever I experience something amazing, I just want others to share in it,” I replied, rubbing Lo’s arm.

“I’m the opposite,” said the young woman to me.  “Whenever I find something amazing, I keep it all to myself.”  She also rubbed the arm of her partner.

“You can have him,” I thought.

Meanwhile, Lo was seated next to Lily’s Uncle Collin.  He arrived to this event without his wife Suzanne and no one blinked an eye about it.  The family was used to their “independent” social schedules.  This wedding happened after the shenanigans that had taken place at Collin’s mountain cottage, so Lo was very familiar with ‘Uncle Collin’ and his love of young women and his E.D. issues.  The whole night, any stranger would have thought that Lo was Collin’s date for the evening.  Given the age difference, they might have thought Lo was his hired companion as his FGE – “Full Girlfriend Experience.”

They danced together – marvelously, I might add – and reminisced, quite loudly at the table, about the days at his cottage.  He repeatedly alluded to Lo suntanning nude along side Lily, going to a farm and milking goats, and they laughed about how Lo lost her bikini bottoms while tubing behind his boat on the lake.

As they told these stories, Collin gradually drew the other guests at our table into their intimate stroll down Memory Lane.  He is charismatic and a good storyteller, but the whole time I was silently fuming, ready to burst out with, “Yeah, you could read all about it on our blog!  With photos!!!  I wrote it better than he tells it!!!”  But I remained silent and let the senior statesmen have the spotlight that he so craved.

He subtly hinted at, without giving too much detail, the nudity, sex, and other debauchery that took place at the cottage.  He was in on the secret we shared with Jim and Lily – that they got married prior to this large ceremony to appease their Catholic families and that, though they lived “in sin” prior to the private wedding, Lily was and continues to be an A.O.L. girl (Anal Only Lifestyle).

After Collin regaled them with his tales of titties and sun, one of the young women at our table, noticing Collin’s wedding ring and Lo’s “hotwife” ring, asked, “So you two are. . . married?”  She asked it hesitantly, knowing it was an inappropriate question that was only sparked by the gaping age difference between them.  Yet the curious guest was inebriated enough to broach the subject and display her incredulity.

“Oh no,” said Lo, laughing and delighting in the twist of the knife that was about to take place, “I’m not married!”

“Oh, so you’re. . . ?” the woman’s half-formulated question hung in the air awkwardly.

“We’re just friends,” said Lo.  “This is my partner, HH,” she added, as she put her delicate hand on mine.

The fact that they weren’t married, but had shared so much together, compounded with the fact that Lo was dating another, yet different, older man who was seated right next to her as she laughed about these sexperiences, seemed to blow the mind of our dinner companion.

“Oh,” she said, feigning comprehension, but displaying complete befuddlement.

The band began to play again and Lo begged me to dance with her.

I demurred, saying, “Dancing is emblematic of our relationship.  When we dance, you do whatever you want.  For me, though, the goal is to have fun.  But all you do is criticize and then, when I stop, you criticize because you always have to have an object of your derision.  Without it, you feel a tremendous void.  And whatever I do – driving, cooking, dancing, cleaning – I’m your eternal object of derision.”

Lo replied, “Well, when dancing, it’s more fun for both partners if one is not stepping on the other’s toes.”

“That’s only possible if you’re dancing solo.”

“You’re right, dancing is emblematic of our whole relationship.”

As harsh as this banter sounds, it was all said lovingly, tongue-in-cheek.

One of our friends at the table overhead us and said, “You two should write a book chronicling your lovers’ quarrels.”

“That’s a great idea!” I replied “That way I could document my long suffering.  I could call it, ‘The History of my Calamities,’ after Abelard.”

“Your calamities,” chided Lo, “you should be so lucky to have an Eloise like me!”

Having fully lost our audience with our theological allusions, Collin remarked, “You two have great erotic tension.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but no erotic release.”

“There’s a difference,” said Lo, “between erotic tension and sexual tension.”

“And what is that?” I asked.

“Erotic tension is in your head.  And you have a great release for that – the blog.  Sexual tension is between your legs and you have a great release for that.”

“What might that be?”

“My puss.”

“How’s your sexual tension?”

“I never have sexual tension,” said Lo casually, “I only have sexual release.”

“I suppose that’s what it means to be ‘a liberated woman.’”

She got up to dance with Collin some more.

Louis Armstrong’s “Just a Gigolo” was being sung by the crooner and Lo, wearing her green velvet dress in honor of the Irish holiday, looked stunning as she twirled and dipped with Collin.

As they kicked up a storm on the dancefloor, one of the women at our table sat next to me.  “Aren’t you jealous,” she whispered in my ear.  I couldn’t help but think of her as Iago.  Though green was the color of the day, it was not the color I was seeing as I watched my Desdemona dance with her Cassio.

“No,” I replied with a smile.

“Not at all?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Want to get some air?” she asked.

“Sure.”

I followed my femme Iago out onto the balcony of the hotel and, though it was freezing in the windy city, she offered me a few puffs from her vape pen.  Not wishing to be rude, I accepted.

Suddenly my Shakespearean companion transformed into a jovial leprechaun and the next thing I knew was Lo, Collin, the sexy pixie elf and I were at The Green Mill, a dancehall throwback to the age of Swing.  A big band was playing with a tall, lean black trumpeter in the lead.  They were pounding out “Tain’t What You Do” as Lo was passed from partner to partner in the crowd that was jumpin’ and jivin’ to the beat.

In my mind, the spotlight was on Lo and her eyes were on the prize – the trumpeter who seemed to be singing the words especially for her, with a peculiar emphasis on them, changing the meaning from, “Tain’t what you do, it’s how you do it” to “Taint, what you do.  It’s how you do it.”

“How you feeling now?” asked the leprechaun.

I felt as if a green wave was carrying my Lo further and further out to sea as I was stranded on the shore watching her recede into the distance.

There, far on the horizon, I saw her up by the stage, talking with the trumpeter who was standing, his crotch eye level with Lo’s face.  She was looking up at him, saying something.

The band took a break and Lo disappeared, as did the band leader.

Collin returned to the table and I inquired about her whereabouts.

“It’s Saint Patty’s Day!” he said, “The luck of the Irish.  I believe that Lo is getting lucky!”  He slapped me on the back and bought me another drink that I didn’t need.  “When in the Emerald City, anything can happen with a little magic from the Wizard,” he said, removing a teal handkerchief from his jacket pocket that suddenly turned into Lo’s satin panties.  He handed them to me and said, “Improbable, yes.  Possible, perhaps.  With Lo, all is green go-go and Eternal Return of the Dame.”

When I heard these words, I knew that I was slowly losing my grasp on reality.

The last thing I recall from the evening was a Julie London song, “Hey Daddy,” being played by the band as an instrumental number.

When I woke up, I was in my hotel room in the bed and Lo was rising and descending on a large bottle of champagne.

Celebration Time

Groggily I rubbed my eyes and looked at her to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.  I then said, “Be careful darling, I wouldn’t want that bottle to break.”

“Not to worry.  I’m wide, wet, and willing.”

As she proceeded to hump to her heart’s content, she said, “Will you order some breakfast from room service?”

Always the dutiful daddy, I said, “Sure, what do you want.”

“A bowl of Lucky Charms.”

Lo’s Taint

Surreal Sex

 

Feisty Married Couple Getting Off to Lola Together

“When are you going to publish something new?” asked Lola.

“For a nympho going through a dry patch, you sure have kept me busy with new material,” I responded.

“Dry patch!  That’s the worst sort of insult you can levy at a nympho.”

“Well, I mean, you keep complaining that COVID is impeding your libido, but you have me wearing my fingers to the bone typing about you and MILF Meri, you and the brothers, you and your internet fans, you and your new dates, you and. . .”

“Don’t forget me and myself and I.”

“Your favorite three-some!”

“Well, why don’t you finger me and then we’ll bone.  That sounds like more fun.”

“I thought you wanted me to post new stories.”

“It’s not me, Darling, it’s my fans.  They are clamoring for more stories from the elusive, aloof, and elite author.”

“It’s not easy to keep up with the demand.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Do they want quantity or quality?”

“In my book, quantity is quality.”

“I’m talking about writing, not fucking.  And furthermore, you know that’s not true, in your book or any other book.”

“Well, a little more quantity would help.”

“Are you talking about writing or fucking, Lo?”

“If I put your computer on my back, couldn’t we multi-task?  You write while you fuck?”

“You’re absurd!”

“Absurdist literature worked for the Surrealists.”

“Do I look like a Surrealist to you?”

“More like Magic Realism.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“I’m the magic, you make it real.”

“You know our world is going through a cataclysmic upheaval, a clash of epochs, a seismic shift, and you’re complaining about not getting fucked often enough.”

“Or long enough.  Or deep enough.  Or passionately enough.”

“I think you’re missing the point.”

I am!  I am!  Give me the point, Daddy!  I’m missing it so much!”

“This is no laughing matter.”

“I’m not laughing, I’m begging.  A quicky.  A fast fuck.  A finger fuck.  Anything.”

“I’ll tell you what,” I said looking up from my computer.

“Yes, Daddio,” she said batting her eyelashes at me.

“I just transcribed this little conversation.  I’ll post it today.  No rewrite or review, no context or explanation.”

“Well, our readers might enjoy it, but what about my puss?  Your words are not flesh, no matter how delusional you are about your godlike qualities.”

“Get in the bedroom, spread your legs, and I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Promise.”

“Solemnly swear.”

She stood up and, in a deep voice said, “Fuck.”

“What was that?”

“I swore solemnly.  Now you’ll fuck me.”

Lo Pleases the Lady of the House

Blow with Lo

Free Books Benefit Everyone!

Hey Friends, Fans, and Fiends out there!  As you all know, we had a Valentine’s Day promotion to help people through the difficult times of COVID-19.  We sent a free copy of our books to fans and all we asked in return was that they send back some sexy photos of themselves with our book strategically placed.  Well, the friends with benefits program is paying off.  We are pleased – very pleased – to help promote some of our fans with a Twitter “OnlyFans” account and also present to you other, non-professional, fans who wrote back to us.

First we have the sexy Samantha Massie, a.k.a. Southernbella1.  She is a real Southern belle, hailing from Georgia, raised in a very proper Christian household, she and her hubby, Justin, have three young kids.  Though she’s a certified medical assistant (CMA), she’s trying to make ends meet for the family and to earn enough to go back to college to get her registered nursing degree.  After she asked her friend and professional photographer, Dan, to take some boudoir photos of her as a gift to her hubby, he liked what he saw so much that he encouraged Samantha to monetize her assets on Twitter.  He suggested posting sexy nudes on her OnlyFans page (southernbella1).  He fully supports her in this and, who knows, maybe even wants her to be a hotwife someday like me!  Please go out and support Samantha and her college goals and her family by subscribing to her Twitter OF page.  You will be very glad you did!!!

We will be having more of our promotional stars soon. Write in to us if you would like to be on the list for our May is Masturbation Month promotion!!! downloladown@gmail.com

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark

Samantha Massie

Samantha’s sexy feet

Samantha Massie

Samantha Massie

Friends, Fans, and Fucks

Harder

 

His name is Al and he is a sex-addict.

“Hi Al.”

He writes to Lo on the sly.  “You are my favorite slut.”

“I’m everyone’s favorite slut,” she quips back.

“I have a sex addiction.  My wife keeps me under lock and key.”

“If I were married to you, I would not only allow your sex addiction, I’d be your #1 drug.”

“I have no doubt,” says Al.  “But why are you such a slut?  What explains it?”

Al and Lo

“My man, HH, he is a great guy, but we’re about 30 years apart and I’m a little slutty nympho who drains him of all he’s got.”

“Now you’re begging the question.”

“I never beg, except for cum.”

“So you’re a sex-addict too.”

“Addicts go to meetings.  I prefer to say I’m sex-positive.”

“What is it you want?” he asks.

“I want my pussy pounded,” she replies.

“Besides that.”

Al and Lo

“There’s only one thing a woman wants from a man as he pounds her pussy.  She wants it harder.”

“I guess I was asking a different question.  I was asking about something deeper.”

“Yes – harder and deeper.”

“Let me ask the question this way: Isn’t there a down-side to too much sex.”

“Yes!” says Lo excited.  “I was just saying this to HH last night.  I let him have my ass and he said, ‘You’re so loose.’  I told him, ‘You’re the fifth guy I’ve had up in there today and not the largest by a long shot!  I can’t even feel you.’  There you have it.  That definitely is a down-side.  The Lola Down side of Lola’s backside, if you will.”

“The fifth cock?!  What are you, a prostitute?”

“I’m just your local neighborhood nympho.  Word gets around.”

“Do you date these guys or just fuck them?”

“Dating is a journey, usually with a destination.  I just enjoy the ride.”

“You are one exceptional woman!”

“I prefer sexceptional.”

“How would you characterize your relationship with HH?”

“He is my rock, I am his Circe. Or maybe his Pasiphae.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look it up.”

“You two have a good sex-life?”

“I Fuck HH when he’s up for it, flirt with others when he’s not.”

“Is that what you’re up to now? – flirting with me?”

“No, I’m fucking you.”

“What?”

“With my mind.  You know I can orgasm without even touching myself?”

“Are you cumming now?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

[Long silent pause.]

“There,” says Lo, proudly.

“You just came?”

“Yep.”

“It seemed, well, a little anticlimactic.”

“Not for me.  Want to see?”

“Yeah.”

Lo spreads her legs to reveal the wet spot soaked through the crotch of her jeans.

Wet Spot

“Wow!  Now what are you going to do about that?”

“About what?”

“Your jeans being all wet?”

“Enjoy it.”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“You mean, in addition to that?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, shoot.”

“Why are you with HH?”

“Nothing better than a nymphomaniac and a dirty old man.”

“You call yourself a hotwife, but you’re not married.  Why don’t you get married?”

“Have you ever read the letters of Eloise and Abelard?”

“I haven’t.  Who are they?”

“Look it up.  Anyhow, she was ahead of her time when she said to him, ‘I’d rather be your whore than your wife.’”

“And that’s how you feel?”

“That’s how we both feel.”

“Wow!”

“What?”

“That’s a radical take on marriage.”

“Well, I have met enough guys like you who entered into a marriage, but is it a marriage or a mirage?”

“Point taken.”

“Can I see a photo of your wife?”

“Why?”

“I like to know what my competition looks like.”

[He sends a nude photo of his wife.]

“There.  What do you think?”

“I understand why you’re a sex-addict.  She’s super sexy!!!”

“I wish she had your open mind to match her body.”

“More than my mind is open to her body.”

“Has COVID impacted you at all?”

“Yeah, a lot.  That’s why I’m here chatting with you now.  Most of my flirting and fucking has to be virtual these days.”

“What about the five guys from yesterday?  Are they in your bubble?”

“They sure were yesterday!  Far in.  You could say that I am the original super-spreader – in a good way, of course!”

“In only the best way!”

Lo Super Spreader

99 Problems: A Valentine’s Day Tale

[Dear Lovlies, this story was published in the February 2021 issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. If you would like to get your free Match, Cinder & Spark book, send us an email at: downloladown@gmail.com]

“Well, Darling, I guess it’s just you and me: Santa and his little sexy elf,” I said to her as she snuggled up to me under my arm on the couch.  She was still wearing her sleek red dress and nothing else.  We had the fire going (on the T.V. thanks to Netflix).

Lola’s Good Cheer

“It was a nice day,” she said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.

We both knew it wasn’t like Christmases past.  It was COVID Christmas.  No kissing friends and strangers under the mistletoe or unwrapping presents with a large crowd looking on to see your reaction to their gift.

We had spent the day delivering goodies to friends and family, driving all around town, making stops from noon until nine at night.  Each stop was accompanied by a little chat outside in the brisk air with a shot or two to warm us up.  It was good to see familiar faces and bring them gifts, even if we couldn’t hug, kiss, dance, or sit in their comfortable living rooms for some schnapps and grog.

We were determined to make the day as special as we could.  Now that we were home (and a little tipsy) I told her she could look under the tree to see what Santa had brought for her.

“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.

“Which gets me more gifts?” she asked as she rummaged under the tree and found the little box I had carefully hidden.

She immediately knew what it was.  She opened it extremely carefully.  The diamond ring was illuminated by a tiny light that automatically turned on when the ring box was opened.  It looked magical in the dimly lit room.  The cute case glowed with an aura of heavenly mystique.

“Oh Daddy!” she said, giving me a big kiss.  “How did you know?”

She was being very facetious since she had designed the piece of jewelry, ordered it, and tracked its delivery.  All I did was pass her my credit card and then wrap it when it arrived.

“Is there anything there for me?” I asked.

“Yes, there is.  Wait here and come into the bedroom when I call you.”

A few moments went by before her sing-song voice invited me in.

She was wearing a new red satin negligée.  “My Santa suit.  Second only to my birthday suit.”  She spread her legs to reveal that she also had shaved.

Lola’s present for Daddy

“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.

“You know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

“You’ve been hanging around me too long.  Leave the puns to dads who like dad jokes.”

“Do you like, Daddy?” she asked as she gently tugged at her pussy lips.

“Very much.”

“You’re not hard to please.  You know that?”

“Yes, but when you please me, I am hard.”

“Show me!  Let me drink your eggnog.”

“Your ring looks good on your finger,” I remarked as she stroked herself.

“Yes, now maybe you’ll make me a proper hotwife!”

“Oh no, Lo.  I can’t make a descent woman out of you.  You’ve spent a lifetime cultivating being an indecent woman.”

“True.  But you know, either way, I’m happy.  Deep, deep inside, I’m happy.  And you can be too.”

“Be happy?”

“No, deep, deep inside me.”

She stood up from the bed, bent over, and looked at her exposed rear in the full-length mirror behind her.  “It’s weird,” she said, “how horny I get looking at myself naked.”

I have to admit, she had me excited just looking at her like that.

I fumbled to remove my pants as she pouted, “Daddy, I just can’t wait.”

As swiftly as I could, I slid into her impatient peonies petals, already wet with dew.

Within moments she sensed the inevitable and spun around in order to receive her reward.

Though that may have been my climax, it is not the climax of our story.

Drunk on my cum, she looked up at me and asked, “Which part did you like the most: the first ten seconds or the last ten seconds?”

“Hey, I might have been fast, but what or who can give that much pleasure in so short a time?”

“Are you talking about my ability to give pleasure or yours?  Never mind.  I’ll show you what can give even more pleasure,” she said as she reached under the bed to take out her Hitachi.

Lo gushes for her mechanical lover

As she was on her solo journey to Pleasure Town, I pulled out my laptop and read a few emails written to our shared downloladown account.  There were a number of thank you notes from the men, women, and couples who had received our “XXX-mas” gifts – a free Match, Cinder & Spark book or audiobook.

It was nice to hear from our fans that we helped cheer them up in this otherwise dismal time.

After Lo had ‘spouted off’ in the best possible way, she sat up to look over my shoulder.  Glancing at the screen, I sensed she was a bit disappointed.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something Lo.  What is it?”

“Just the thought that put me over the edge was that you were looking at photos of me, not reading emails.”

“Well, it’s the next-best-thing.  They’re emails about you.  Besides, why would I look at photos of you on my computer when you’re lying next to me vibrating your va-jay-jay till the levee breaks?”

“Exactly!  And why would you be reading emails when you have this at your disposal?!” she said, slapping her sloppy puss for emphasis.

Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Do you think it was egomaniacal of me to give my own books as a Christmas gift?”

“I think it’s egomaniacal of you to write those books.”

“That wasn’t egomaniacal.  That was a gift to humanity.”

“Never have I seen such a self-satisfied narcissist!”

“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”

“Shut up and pass me Glindo,” she said, referring to her glass dildo that was next to me on the nightstand.

Lo and ‘Glindo’

“Why?  What are you up to now?” I asked, seeing her with her legs spread wide on the bed, dildo in hand.

“Nothing, but I’m open to doing something.”

“What are you open to doing?”

“You.”

“Now?”

“Well, after I do myself.”

“Again?”

Never one for false modesty, she implored, “Read to me some of the things people are saying about the book.”

“While you jill it?”

“Yeah, it’s a turn-on to know that I get guys hard and women wet.”

“Well, one person called you a slut and said that you do all this just for attention.”

“That is not true,” she said emphatically, “being a slut is its own reward.”

“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”

She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.

Overcome by her perspicuous paramour, Lo lunged forward with a long, lusty moan.

As she recovered from her self-inflicted squirt, I asked her, “Do you think we should do it again for Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m hoping we’ll do it long before then!”

“I mean a free book for fans.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake.  “Sure.  Maybe we could ask our readers to send in their Valentine’s Day stories and send a free book to the top ten that we publish.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Photos are also welcome,” she added.  “Now do me, Daddy.  I’ve only had two orgasms tonight and you know I need at least three.”

“Lo, you really are a slut for attention!”

“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.”

Be My Valentine

Sex Drive

Our first date flopped.  Cooped up since March due to COVID, Lo was complaining that she hadn’t been on a date in “forever.”

“What about the brothers?  Don’t they count?”  I asked, referring to the two boys from across the street who had been making regular house calls to Lo’s bedroom to unload their pent-up pandemic sexual frustration with the help of Lola’s pussy.

“Those aren’t dates, Daddy.  Those are booty calls.  Pity fucks.  Besides, they’re so young and inexperienced that there isn’t even sexual tension buildup.  It’s all just ram-and-release.”

“You seem to like it.”

“Oh, I love it, for what it is.”

“So, what is it you want?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“My only wish is to please you.”

“That’s good because my only wish is to be pleased.  I want to go on a proper date.”

“So Meri also doesn’t count?”

“Well, she did count, but we dated before COVID.”

“I assume I don’t count.”

“Oh Daddio, you do count.  You count the number of men and women I fuck.”

“I can’t count that high.”

“I’ll buy you an abacus.”

“Is that the thing with the beads on it?”

“Yes.”

“That you put in your ass?”

“No.  That’s a different thing.”

Not an Abacus

“Oh.”

“I want to go on a date with a couple.”

“A couple?”

“Yeah, a married couple.”

“You have anybody in mind.”

“Daddy, I always have many bodies in mind.”

“Any particular bodies for your date?”

“Yes.  There’s a married couple that is trying to get the ole flame flickering again.”

“Let me guess, you think that you can help his wick to grow.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Where’d you find this couple?”

“They found me.”

“Not another ad!”

“No, Daddy.  They have been reading the blog.”

“What are their names?”

“Ron and Nicole.  She’s a schoolteacher.  He’s a lawncare person.”

“Interesting.  And how are you going to go on a ‘date’ in COVID?”

We.  We are going on a date.  You and me with them.”

“Again, how?”

“Do you like drive-in movies?”

“Haven’t been to one in ages.  Why?”

“Well, it will be like a drive-in.”

“How so?”

“We’ve picked a place to meet and they’ll go in their car and we’ll go in ours.”

“And?”

“That’s it.  We’ll see where we go from there.”

Skank Suit

We pulled up in the vacant parking lot.  It was cold out for November.  Ron and Nicole pulled up to our right in a late model Cadillac.  Ron rolled down his window.  Lola rolled down hers.  They smiled at each other.

“Hi Lola,” called Nicole from the passenger seat.

“Hi Nicole,” responded Lola.  I waved, foolishly, and smiled politely.

We could see our breath as the winterlike air flowed into the cabin.

My car has bucket seats.  Lo and I couldn’t physically be right next to each other.

Their car had a bench front seat.  Nicole slid over to Ron.  They were in their early to mid-forties, I’d say.  She was pretty.  He was smaller in frame than I had imagined.  They were clearly there to see Lo perform.

Lola stripped naked in the car, but with the windows rolled up, soon the glass was covered in condensation.  Ron and Nicole couldn’t see anything.  The more Lo tried, the more foggy the windows got.

Lo rolled down the window, which had the benefit of allowing Ron and Nicole to see her and to make her nipples very hard.  But they could only see so much.

Lo opened the car door to expose below her chest.  She swiveled and spread her legs, putting her feet up on the seat and fapping her wet pussy.  The couple in the car next to us seemed to enjoy the show, but even I was cold, so I can imagine how chilly Lo’s hairless crotch must have been!

I could see that Nicole had Ron’s cock in her right hand and was stroking it as Lo stroked herself.

That didn’t last long.  Lo was shivering.  The cold air on her nipples made them hard.  The downdraft on her bare pussy gave it goosebumps.  Pretty to look at, but no amount of caressing, slapping, or fingering could dispel the chill.

After about a half-hour of trying, we called it off and said we’d try again another time.

On the ride home, the heat blasting, I put on Poe’s “Hey Pretty.”  The seductive lyrics sang:

 

Hey pretty

Don’t you want to take a ride with me?

Through my world

 

Lo leaned over and said, “Can I just be your cock-warmer?”

“Cock-warmer?  What is that?”

“You just let your cock rest in my mouth.”

Cock-Warming

“We both know that there’s no ‘just’ with you.  Especially after this.”

“I’ll tell you what, you drive and I’ll give you the longest unzipping of your life.”

But just then our little late night drive took a strange turn.

We had just got home and I could tell by the look in her eye she was up to no good.

She walked in the front door wearing that little strumpet outfit she had put on for her audience and, not getting to give the show she had planned for them, she was ready to perform for me.  A bad, naughty little performance for a packed house of one.

She pranced into the living room in her heels, black leather skirt, no panties, leather jacket, sheer blouse beneath revealing her hard nipples.  She turned on the music: Machine Gun Kelly, “Bad Things.”  It was as if she had been waiting her turn in the strip club and the DJ finally got around to her set list.

The blinds were all open as she did her little COVID Cabaret.

“Did you like seeing me in the car tonight, Daddy?”

“I did,” I said as I sat down on the couch to watch her.

“What did you like about it?”

“Your willingness to make a couple happy.  I always say your generous nature is your best quality.”

“I have a lot of good qualities.”

“True.”

“And a lot of bad thoughts.”

“Do tell.”

“If you only knew the bad things I like,” she sang along with the song.

She lifted her skirt above her ass as she bent over by the window.

“Well, Daddy, are you going to give it to me?”

I stood up and came close to her.  I began undoing my pants, but she stopped me.

“No,” she said, “your belt.  Give it to me.”

“Punishment?”

“Yes.”

She assumed the position, bracing for it.

I pulled out my long black leather belt, bent it in half, grabbed both ends in one hand and gently let it fall upon her flesh.

“Oh, come on,” she mocked.  “Harder.”

“I gave her a mild whack.

“Harder.  Wasn’t I bad Daddy?  Wasn’t it wrong of me to arrange this COVID dogging session?”

I gave her a strong spank with the strap.  It made a clear cracking on her ass.  Her body convulsed as if she was surprised by it.  Then she said, “Yesss, that’s it.”

I gave her another.

We hadn’t engaged in this sort of play for a long time.

“You were bad,” I said, reflecting upon it.  “Dressed scantily in public like that.  Like a little skank.”

“That’s right.”

I gave her a harder smack.  I could see the outline of the belt in a red line left on her skin, even in the dim light.
“Again.”

I gave it to her again.

“Harder.”

She got another harder.

“I wish that the three of you could be doing this to me.  You, Ron, Nicole.”

I gave her another WHACK!

“I wish I was tied to a pole naked (except my heels of course) and each of you had a strap to take turns on my body.”

“Why?” I asked as I inflicted another, harder lick of the leather.

“Cause I can take it.  Cause I like it.”

“Why?”

WHAP!

“Because I deserve it.”

SMACK!

“Because I’m so, so bad.”

I gave her one last, forceful spank with the belt before she said our safe word.  She turned around.  There were tears in her eyes.  She reached out her arms and hugged me.  She wrapped her legs around mine.  She was holding on for dear life.

“I hate this pandemic!” she said, weeping.

She slowly descended, her body crumpling around my legs.  She was on the floor, hugging my shins, crying, weeping, naked.

“Come,” I said, helping her up.  “Let me apply some aftercare.”

Spank Me Daddy

I led her to the bedroom where I gently laid her out on the bed, face down.  I went into the bathroom and got out the baby oil.  I puddled some in my palm, rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and gently caressed it over her glowing red ass, sore from the spanking she received.

“Owweeemmmmmm,” she purred, her cry of pain turning to a hum of pleasure.

I made small gentle circles with my palms on her ass cheeks.  I slid my fingers between her ass cleavage.  I ran my fingertips up and down her crotch gently.  I revolved my index finger around her special spot, slowly descending into it, one knuckle at a time until fully submerged.  She moaned with pleasure.  In-and-out I went, first with one finger then with two.  I curled them and fingered her ass much the way I would finger her pussy.

Her body mimicked the motions of an inchworm, rising in the middle and then descending.  Up-and-down.  Faster my fingers slip-sliding in-and-out, until she said, “There!  Stay.  Deep.  Hold it!”  She came.  I could see her pussy juices dribbling down her thighs.  Her ass clenched up on my fingers.  Her body was motionless for a moment before the waves of involuntary convulsions shuttered across the surface from feet to shoulders.

Her sphincter released and I slid my fingers out with ease.

To my shock she was asleep.

I was hard, but happy.  My deepest desire is to please her.

As She Likes It

“Glass of water please Daddy” – read the text I had received from Lo.

I got up off the couch where I was distractedly trying to read a tome on Arthur Schopenhauer’s theory on Beauty and the Sublime.  I had just arrived at his discussion of “the stimulating” and “the charming.”  Of course I began thinking about my little Lo dressed for a night out. I recalled how one night at a bar, responding to an admirer who said she was dressed to kill, she said, “I’m just a sexy brunette in a little black dress and nothing else but my killer personality.”  She then proceeded to lift the hem of her little black dress to demonstrate the truth of that statement and thereby disarmed the patron completely.

Lo in and out of her little black dress

Schopenhauer was arguing how objects that stir the appetite are inappropriate subjects for art since their effect is counter to that of disinterested aesthetic contemplation.  I was in the middle of making a note in the margin of the well-worn book, arguing with the German curmudgeon on just that point, when I received the text.

Lo was in the bedroom with the brothers.  I was irritated because it was the third time that week that they had come over to use Lo as their personal pleasure provider and leave her after they had made her their cumdump.

I knocked lightly on the door before letting myself in.  Lo was stretched out on the bed and I had entered just as the boys were in the process of switching places, tag-team style.

Contemplation of Beauty

Lo looked at the glass of ice water I had in my hand and said, “Can you put it in my water-bottle with a straw dear?”

I left the room without closing the door.  I poured the contents of the glass into her hydro flask, closed it, and returned.  It was then that I noticed how soaked the sheets were.

“Thanks,” she said, reaching up and taking the bottle from my hands, drinking large sips immediately while one of the brothers – the one deep inside her spread legs – didn’t even relent a little bit with his jackrabbit thrusting at her thighs while she imbibed.  I’m not sure he noticed I was there.  I’m not even sure he noticed that Lo existed above her hips.

I left the room.

After the boys were done, about a half-hour later, and had returned to their home across the street, Lo sauntered into the living room and, laying down a terrycloth towel on the couch first, sat on it naked next to me.

“Watcha reading?”

“Schopenhauer.”

“Who?”

“Arthur Schopenhauer.”

“Is it interesting?”

I put my bookmark between the pages and looked up at Lo.

“You know there’s a difference between spreadeagle and starfish, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s a difference between being used in a good way and simply providing maintenance sex.”

“I thought maintenance sex was a phrase married people use,” she said.

“It doesn’t have to be limited to just hetero married monogamous couples going through the monotony of the same-old same-old.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m just going through the motions for the boys?”

“If I saw motions, I would say yes.  But what I saw was you, starfish on the bed, as they popped in and out.”

“Well, I enjoyed it,” she protested stubbornly.

“OK,” I said, before opening my book again.

“And it’s more than I’ve been getting from you!”

“OK,” I repeated, removing the bookmark.

“And they like it.”

“OK,” I said a third time as I began reading.

She grabbed the book out of my hands.  “Talk to me!”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You clearly have opinions.”

“And you clearly think my opinions are wrong.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear them.”

“If you like it, and they definitely like it, then who am I to stop you.  You just looked. . . bored.”

“Well, they’re not legendary lovers.”

“So why do you do it?”

“I like to please.”

“They use you like a kinky fuckdoll.”

“I aspire to be a kinky fuckdoll.”

“Congrats!”

“Sometimes I like to be dominated.  Sometimes I like to be worshiped.  But sometimes I just like to be used.”

“Seems to me that they could dominate, worship, and use a Fleshlight just the same as they do you.”

“Are you jealous, Daddy?  Is that what this is?”

She cuddled up to me closer.  She reached down for my cock.  I could smell the cum on her.

“Oh,” she said, “I see.  You need to use me.  Well, come on.”

“Looks like you’ve already been cum on.”

“That’s no reason to deprive yourself.”

She undid my pants and pulled them down around my ankles.  She moved my book.  She got on her knees between my legs and began licking my cock.

“You know, before they left, they both had their cocks out above my head,” she said as she took my hard cock in her hand and whacked its heft against her cheek.

“I bet you loved that.”

“A gal just likes to be appreciated.”

She stood up and bent over, showing me her ass.

I spanked her.

“Yes, Daddy!  Yes. Again.  I was bad.  Can you see their cum dripping out?  I can feel it.  It feels so good.  Spank the slut out of me.”

I smacked her bottom until her ass was glowing red.

At that moment I heard the doorbell ring and someone walk into the house.

“Lo, the door is open!”

“It’s ok, I’m waiting for a special delivery.”

In walked one of the brothers.  Was it Roy or Gary?  I never can tell them apart.

Lo looked up at him, “He never succeeds in spanking the slut out of me and we’re both ok with that.”

The kid laughed as he walked over to us to put the package he was carrying down on the coffee table.  “My mom says thanks,” he said just as Lo lowered her bum onto my hard cock.  The kid watched.  He had never seen anyone but his brother fuck Lo before.  Lo was bobbing up and down.

“You left the door open?” I asked Lo.

“My love is an open door,” she replied.

“You have the sexiest body,” the smitten scaramouche said.

“I bet you say that to all the sluts,” replied Lo as she reached down to rub her clit.

Lo gestured that she wanted the voyeur to come closer.  He did.  She unzipped his pants and took his cock in her mouth.  I was going at her from behind.

A moment later, the other brother entered.

“Roy!  What are you doing?  Mom’s waiting for you,” he said, nonplussed by the sight of the three of us.

“She can wait a minute,” said Roy to Gary.

Lo used her right hand to indicate that she wanted Gary to approach.  He did.

“Get behind me,” she said, turning in such a way as to allow Roy to enter her ass as Gary entered her puss and I, odd-man-out, was left standing over the six-legged, six-armed, three-headed beast.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said to me.  “I have enough holes to fulfill all the demand.”

I was welcomed into her warm mouth.

Keep in mind, this was all happening in the living room with the blinds open.

I was the first to cum, ejaculating deep in the back of Lo’s throat, as she likes it.

Then Gary pulled out and stood in front of Lo and came on her face, as she likes it.

Finally, Roy pulled out of her ass and stood in front of her as she kneeled on the hardwood floor.  She took his cock in her mouth and sucked long and hard, fondling his balls from below with her hand and grabbing his ass from behind with her other hand to pull him in to fill her up orally.

He pulled back at the last crucial second and said, “Lie back!”

Lo did a spread eagle on the floor as Roy grabbed his cock with his right hand and rained down on her naked body, as she likes it.

The boys pulled up their pants and beat a hasty goodbye.

Lo, cum-covered and stretched wide, slowly got up.

“You know, Lo,” I said, scolding her, “anyone and everyone can see you from the outside.”

She replied with a curt, “Externalities.”

“What?”

“An unintended beneficial consequence bestowed on third-parties,” she said as if reciting from a dictionary.

“Where’d you learn that economic theory?”

“I do have a college education, Daddy,” she said bitingly.

“Oh, by that you mean you learned it in my class?”

“You’re not the only person who has something to teach me, you know.”

“Apparently not.”

“Now, did that look like maintenance sex to you?”

“Yes.”

“What?!”

“It was enough to help maintain your rapacious appetite.”

“Barely enough.”

“You know, darling, you are a walking, talking, fucking rebuttal to Schopenhauer’s aesthetic theory.”

“If that’s your way of saying I look beautiful, then, thanks!”

“I’m saying more than you look beautiful.  I’m saying, you are a work of art.”

Lola as a work of art