Category Archives: kink
Review: A Horny Halloween by Jupiter Grant
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A Horny Halloween by Jupiter Grant
Everything old is new again. I’m old. Maybe I too am new again. I’m old enough to remember being too young to have lived through the age of the radio play, but eagerly wanting more whenever, on those rare occasions, I had the chance to hear a rebroadcast of one of the classics from the ’30s or ’40s back in the ’70s and ’80s. But now, through the magic of the internet and the exciting new era of low-budget production reaching mass audiences and those in the audience getting to directly and immediately communicate to content creators what they want and putting their money where their demand is, we now have a whole new Golden Age of audio. Audio books, podcasts, even old-timey radio dramas. It’s all making a comeback and I couldn’t be more thrilled!
Because of this resurgence of the spoken word, and, perhaps even more recently, the proliferation of it among kinky sex-bloggers, Lo and I have become acutely aware of the power of sound to leap off the page and excite, every bit as much as the visual image accompanying sexy stories is able to do, if not more so.
In addition to this exciting new dimension of sexy sound, coincidentally, one of our fans has recently been corresponding with Lola earnestly requesting us to put our stories to sound because this avid “reader” is blind. He is able to hear our stories through the generic computer-generated voice software that he has or that some websites, such as Medium.com, offer. But he wanted to hear the stories told in a voice that was equal to their imagery.
Eager to please all of our enthusiasts, we actively sought someone with the right sound, sensibility, and savoir-faire, to narrate our naughty roman à clef. After much searching, we finally found someone who was truly magnificent. A sex-blogger herself, she wouldn’t blanch at the profane passages. Highly educated and well-versed in eclectic religious lore, history, and philosophy, she followed where the story took to cerebral flights of fancy. A lover of literature and, we think, a natural thespian, she made the dramatic dialogue of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl come to life. And, as a woman of deep feelings, she made the climactic crescendos cum to life as well.
Match, Cinder & Spark
All of this praise is prologue in order to say that the following review is somewhat biased, but biased by previous knowledge of the author and narrator’s talents.
I speak here of the incomparable Jupiter Grant, whose A Horny Halloween (e-book $4.99), is, as the title suggests, at turns scary and sexy. The six chapters clock in at two hours and eleven minutes on the audio version, as read by the author herself. The tales are chock full of nearly equal parts sex, spunk, blood, and more blood. But most of all, the stories all display a very vivid imagination that begins with the common light of day and gradually grows darker and more mysterious until we find ourselves caught between two worlds – light and dark, familiar and mysterious, mundane and magical. There is a distinct echo of Edgar Allan Poe, but, unlike Poe’s magical realism, these tales touch on religious rites, cults of initiation, and, in the last (and by far the best) chapter, a very incarnate experience with the narrators personal God and Savior.
Ms. Grant’s narration, as always, is a very pleasant British accent that leaps off the page with dramatic flurries as well as undulating deep tones where the text necessitates a baritone pitch. Be sure to listen to these spooky stories with someone you can squeeze tightly because you won’t want to be alone for either the scary or the sexy bits! But, whatever you do, make sure you give this collection from Jupiter Grant a listen.
Ms. Jupiter Grant of Jupiter’s Lair
Quiver
[Continued from “Black Friday: A Juicy Story Before Brunch”
The day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Miami Beach. Lo was on a mission. This was our third day in Miami. Seventy-two hours of glorious sunny days, short-shorts, and sex. And, in typical Lo fashion, she wanted more of all three.
“What’s for breakfast?” I asked.
“I thought we were having sex,” she said as she sat on the side of the bed wearing only her sexy tank-top T-shirt and spreading her legs.
“Sex for breakfast?”
“Yeah, we’ll call it ‘Sex-fest.’”
“But Lo, you just came twice.”
“That was all external stimulation. It just makes me more hungry.”
“Hungry for breakfast?” I asked, since I was starving.
“No, hungry for your cock in my cunt.”
“It’s not even 9 a.m. and you’re using that sort of language?!”
“It’s never too early to speak a Romance Language.”
“You forget, I was in the Romance Languages department at my college. They didn’t speak like that.”
“Illiterate.”
“We could discuss the nuances of philology all morning, but. . .”
“But I want you to fuck me. Please. Just a quick in-and-out is all I need.”
“Fine,” I said and I puled my shorts down around my knees.
The hotel room bed was only a full; much smaller than we were used to. I said to her, “There better be a spot for me in that bed cause I’m getting in it.”
“Oh, I’ve got a spot for you and you definitely are going to get in it.”
She turned over and scrunched up her body into a little ball on the bed, exposing her puss and ass to me.
“Just go right in,” she said over her shoulder, as if I needed some instructions.
“Top or bottom?” I asked.
“Top or bottom?” she was confused.
“Yeah, which hole?”
“Which do you want?” she asked seductively, surprising me.
“Top!” I said without hesitation.
“Well, fill the bottom first and, if you’re good, you can have the top.”
Lola & HH
Standing by the side of the bed, I slid in with ease and she moaned. She was drenched and dripping. “Stay. Right. There,” she commanded. I didn’t even move. I just grabbed her by her hips and lifted her a little then pushed her down a little. Up and down, up and down I slid her on my cock. My thumb moved its way to her top hole to press against it. Within seconds her cunt was gushing and clenching. I pulled her in closer by her hips to make sure I stayed in place; the tip of my cock up against her g-spot. She didn’t even scream. She just bit her lower lip and moaned. I could see her facial expressions and contortions in the mirror. In a few more seconds she pulled forward and, as I slid out of her, she squirted. I was careful to jump back and avoid getting splashed.
“Ahhhh,” she said, “that did the trick.”
She was splayed out on the bed now, breathing heavily. I stood next to the bed.
“This isn’t a coat rack,” I said of my erect phallus.
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“You promised me the top hole, remember?”
“Oh, right!”
She scrunched up into her little ball again, wiggling her ass in front of me. “Can you hit the target?” she teased.
“Stay still and my arrow will fill your quiver.”
I grabbed her hips again and pressed the full head of my cock up against her sphincter. Her flower bud opened. Slowly I filled her. I could see her hands out in front of her clutching the bed sheets as she felt the pain and pleasure of my deep dive.
Again she commanded, “Stay. Right. There.” Her ass clenched down on me and her body turned the noun, “quiver,” into a verb.
Suddenly she lunged forward, just like she did before, leaving me hard up, standing by the side of the bed a second time as she caught her breath.
Turning her head over her shoulder, she said, “Amazing, Daddio!”
Then, noticing me pulling up my shorts, she said, “Aren’t you going to cum?”
“Darling, thirty seconds of standing behind you, rigid as a statue, while you got your rocks off was exclusively for your pleasure.”
“But I want you to cum.” She turned around, on all fours, facing me, or rather, my crotch. She looked up at me and asked, “Don’t you know what Cyndi Lauper says?”
“Cyndi Lauper?! You’re dating yourself dear.”
“Oh, I wish I could date myself. I’d be such a good fuck.”
“You’re getting distracted again. What does Cyndi Lauper say?”
“Oh, right. She sings, ‘Girls just wanna have cum. That’s all they really want – some cum.’” She sang the lyrics.
Girls Just Wanna Have Cum
“I think you might be taking some poetic license with that.”
“Whatever. Cum in my mouth,” she commanded as she took my cock into her open mouth and slobbered over it with her tongue.
“And spoil your appetite?” I asked, enjoying the sensation and the thought of what a dirty, slutty girl she is.
“It’s more of an appetizer.”
“No,” I said flatly, pulling out of her mouth.
She pouted.
“I’m starving,” I said. “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to waste away.”
She rolled her eyes sarcastically – as if I was in any mortal danger of wasting away.
“What?” I asked. “Look at me,” I said, striking a pose, flexing my biceps, “One hundred seventy-five pounds of pure muscle!”
“One hundred and seventy-five?!” Lo exclaimed in disbelief, “Aren’t you a few pounds off there?”
“No. It is a hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle. The other thirty pounds might be fat, but under it is the pure muscle.”
“Still a little shy of the mark, I think.”
“Well, the other ten pounds is brain, of course.”
“Of course,” she said sardonically.
I stepped on the scale and cursed it saying, “You lying sack of shit!”
Lo, naked but for her T-shirt, stepped on the scale after me and said, “It better not be lying, it says I lost two pounds!”
“It lies.”
“Does it? Or could it be that my diet and exercise and drinking plenty of liquids has caused me to lose two pounds?”
“It lies.”
“Why would it lie to me that I lost two pounds and lie to you that you. . . well, uh, you’re. . . ?”
“Because it likes the view it has of you from down there.”
She laughed. She almost never laughs at my jokes, but I suppose this one also appealed to her vanity. I love it when she laughs.
“Do you like the view?” she asked, bending over and looking at me from between her knees.
“I don’t know why they call it mooning when it looks as bright and pink as the sunrise to me,” I said. “But as pretty as you are, morning glory, can we please go get breakfast?”
“Sure,” she said as she slipped into her bikini bottoms. “How do these look?”
It was a very skimpy pink thong bikini bottom that she purposely pulled up extra tight.
I gave her a cat-call whistle and launched into a sing-song limerick:
Do your labia hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
Can you throw ’em o’er your shoulder
Like a continental soldier?
Do your labia hang low?
“What?!” she asked, looking down between her legs.
“Look in the mirror,” I gestured.
She took a look and could see what I saw: her puffy pussy lips straddling the skinny g-string. She’s very self-conscious of her large labia.
“Ah, fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissing my concern. She walked up to me and, seeing that I had pitched a tent in my shorts, she sang back:
Does your cock stand high?
Does it reach up to the sky?
Does it droop when it’s wet?
Does it stiffen when it’s dry?
Can you wave it at your neighbor
With an element of flavor?
Does your dick stand high?
“Touché,” I said.
“Tushie?” she asked, turning around and showing me her bottom again.
I smacked it hard and said, “That’s for being tardy.”
We finally got in the rental car and I let Lo drive. Lo being Lo, she blasted the radio and “I’m Real” by Ja Rule happened to be on, pounding the bass of the speakers to the chorus:
-Cause I’m real-
The way you walk
The way you move
The way you talk
-Cause I’m real-
The way you stare
The way you look
Your style your hair
-Cause I’m real-
The way you smile
The way you smell
It drives me wild
-Cause I’m real-
And I can’t go on without you
Lo was contentedly squirming in her leather bucket seat to the beat of the music.
“Can you shut that damn music off?!” I complained.
“You know, you sound like an old man when you say that.”
“You know, I am an old man.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just sad to think about.”
“Well, if you want to break up with me, go right ahead.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“No. You said that it’s ‘sad’ to think about me being an old man.”
“It is! I mean, I’m not even at the great hump of my life yet.”
“I thought I was the great hump of your life.”
“I should hope not.”
“What?!”
“What I mean is, I’m not over the hill yet.”
“I should hope not.”
“What does that mean?”
“It simply means, that at twenty-something, you still have some great humps to look forward to.”
“And you don’t?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m looking forward to humping you in about five minutes.”
“Why so long?”
“So long? Is five minutes too much to wait for you youngins these days?”
“Five minutes is like two and a half news cycles.”
“Well, here’s some breaking news: the best is yet to come.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause I love cumming.” She pulled up to the curb. “Here we are. Where are you going to fuck me?”
“Well, I need nourishment first. Let’s eat,” I said as we got out of the convertible and went to the hostess stand on the sidewalk. We were seated at a quaint table outside with a view of Ocean Boulevard and the beach across the street. Pretty people were walking by and fancy cars were cruising slowly to see and be seen.
A tricked-out car drove by – shiny, sparkly, loud. Lo was clearly impressed.
She observed it closely and then commented, “The exhaust is merely cosmetic.”
“Just like yours!” I quipped.
She gave me a look of faux shock.
A musclebound fella walked by in a tiny speedo and a loose fitting tank-top.
“Lo, stop drooling. Or at least use a napkin.”
“What?! He’s a very beefy boy. . . and I’m a beefeater,” she said, taking a slow, seductive bite of her sausage.
After breakfast, we walked down the strip and Lo was window shopping, until she was actually shopping. I sat outside sipping my frozen drink. When she came back out, she gave me a t-shirt like the one worn by Mr. Muscles.
“I didn’t know whether to get you a large or an extra large,” she said.
“You should always get me grandiose.”
“To match your ego?”
We walked down to the beach and Lo pulled out of her oversized bag a sheet she stole from the hotel. She spread it out on the sand and then spread herself on top of it. I sat down next to her and began rubbing in the sunscreen on her shoulders. When I was done I said, “I’ll draw on your back with my finger and you tell me what I’m spelling.”
“OK. But where’s the top?”
“Here,” I said, as I scribbled up by her shoulder blades.
“Hey! What are you doing?” she asked as my finger went down between her butt cheeks.
“I’m just seeing where the bottom is. Oh! Look at that. I think I found the ink well.”
“Yeah?! You’re gonna have a broken nub if you keep it up!”
After a bit, she pulled out the deck of cards from her bag and began shuffling them.
“What are you playing?”
“Strip Solitaire.”
“Are you winning or losing?”
“I’ll take off my top and you tell me.”
I scanned the beach to see if any other women were going topless.
“Hey!” she said, “I’m over here!!!”
She thought she saw me looking at some of the other sexy women on the strand.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, teasing her. “So I like looking at them. They’re like boats: I like how they look, but I don’t want to have one.”
“Oh yeah? Like boats? You better watch out that I don’t wash them away with my tsunami.”
“Are you squirting again? I didn’t even see you touch your puss.”
“I don’t need to with all this eye-candy.”
“Oh, so it’s ok for you to look, but not me?”
“Exactly. Next pair of sunglasses I buy you will be blinders.”
With that comment, she left her card game and sauntered into the water. Just at the water’s edge, she turned back to me and called, “Daddio! Aren’t you coming?”
“Not yet,” I called back, “but I will be.”
“What?!” she called.
“I’m not coming!”
She yelled back, “I’ll fix that!” She then turned tail and bent over, revealing her shoelace thin thong. She feigned finding a seashell, but she was just showing off. She eventually walked in the water, sticking out her tongue at me over her shoulder as the waves crested and fell over her hips. Then she dove in.
When she returned from the cool dip, she asked, “What do you think of my hair?” as it dripped from its curls down her breasts.
“You look just like Medusa.”
“That’s not a compliment. Wasn’t she so ugly that she turned anyone who looked at her to stone?”
“No no no, that’s not it. What the Greeks meant was any man who saw her got hard as a rock and that’s how I feel about you and your wild, curly hair.”
“Nice save,” she said with a smile as she laid down next to me, getting me all wet.
I had just got comfortable and was engrossed in the book I was reading, The Postmodern Condition, you know, your typical beach read, when she said, “Let’s go for a walk Daddy.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes, Daddio. I want to go find something nice.”
“To wear?”
“To fuck.”
“I’m still available, you know.”
“Available? No you’re not. You’re taken.”
“I’d never know it.”
“You had me this morning.”
“For thirty seconds to help you get your rocks off.”
“So, what the hell are you complaining about?”
“I’d like to get my rocks off.”
“Oh, are your rocks aching?”
“Yes. Yes they are.”
“Follow me. Let’s see if we can do something about that.”
We went for a walk through the dunes to a little wooded park, verdant with scrub pines, palms, and colorful flowers. When we found a little bench, she said to me, “OK, you go over there and just watch.”
“What am I watching for?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
I sat diagonally from her, about thirty feet away. I watched as she sat there looking pretty. Guys walked by, mostly couples. But then one muscular black man in a skimpy bathing suit, bulging out of the itty-bitty stretchy material, stopped and asked her a question. She looked up, batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, licking her teeth with her tongue as she looked down, furtively, at his crotch. They began chatting. And then, within not so very long they got up and walked out of sight.
About a half-hour later Lo returned to the spot where I waited for her.
She approached me slowly, with a look of wily satisfaction and mystery about her.
“You can have me now, Daddy. He’s all done.” I noticed jizz covering her clavicle. She grabbed my hand and walked me to the secluded spot where she had just been with the tall, dark stranger.
“Lo,” I said, “What do you mean he’s all done?”
“Well,” she said, “do you want me to act out exactly what we did?”
“Sure.”
She laid down on the bench and began stroking her pussy over her short shorts while I stood over her and looked at her.
“Well, Daddio?”
“Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to take out your cock and stroke it? That’s what he did.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And what did you do?”
“What do you think? What should a good girl do when she goes to the park and begins masturbating over her shorts and a tall, dark, hung stranger appears pantless ready to fuck?”
“Did you get his digits?”
“All of them.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, all of them, inside me.”
“Right here?”
“Right here.”
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.
“To a bar. I need a drink.”
Truth was, it was hot. I was thirsty. I was tense. I was irritated. I was horny. And I wasn’t about to start fucking Lola right there in the barely concealed patch of public privacy.
“Wait!” she said. “I have to change first.” She spread her legs and showed me the dark spot covering the crotch of her denim shorts where she apparently squirted.
She popped into the public restroom and a moment later, she popped out wearing just her bikini top and a short skirt.
“Wow!” I said. “You’re like a superhero!”
“Super Squirt!” she pronounced, swinging her shorts around her finger, grabbing me by my arm.
We went to a fancy hotel with a rooftop deck, pool, and bar. This was a new hotel and the rooftop was pretty high up there and it even had a balcony with a glass floor.
Lo walked out and leaned over the railing and said, “Wow! Don’t look down!”
“I’m not,” I said, “I’m lookin’ up – lookin’ up your skirt, that is.” No panties. No bikini thong. Nothing. Just her perfectly shapely and shaved mons pubis.
We then went and sat at the bar where I ordered a Tom Collins. Lo apologized to the bartender for my unfashionable taste in drinks, saying, “I’m sorry, he’s old.”
The bartender chuckled.
For the middle of the day, on a beautiful beach day, the bar was pretty busy. But, I guess for the people who live down there, going to the beach every day loses its allure pretty quickly.
Lo asked me, “You want to see what I saw on the bench?”
“Sure,” I said, not knowing where she was going with this.
She pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo of her with her legs spread and a guy with an elephant trunk hanging down from his crotch standing over her.
The old pervert seated next to Lo at the bar – not me, the guy on the other side of her – looked over Lo’s shoulder out of curiosity.
“Nice shot,” he said.
“Not nearly as nice as when he came on me,” retorted Lo without missing a beat.
“Is that so?” asked Mr. Intrusive.
“Yes, that’s so,” said Lo, followed by, “Oh, how rude of me. HH, this is,” she said, as if introducing an old friend.
“Kip,” he said.
“Kip,” said Lo. “Kip, HH,” she said, introducing us.
I shook his hand over Lo’s lap and said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure,” he said.
He clearly had had a few already. He wore a festive Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, sandals. I’d say he was about 46 and beginning to bald. A bit overweight. Genial smile and friendly – midwestern friendly. Too friendly, you might say.
Lo was in a festive, flirty mood and so she teased and toyed with this guy, telling both him and me what happened with her mystery man down by the beach.
“How very slutty of you,” he said.
“I thought so,” replied Lo proudly.
The guy asked, “Will you be my slut?”
“I’m everyone’s slut. That’s what being a slut is.”
“I don’t know if you could handle me,” said the guy.
“Why not?” asked Lo, defiantly.
“My cock – it’s pretty big and has a lot of girth,” he said.
Lola pulled out her phone and found a photo of her horse cock dildo. “This is one of my toys,” she said. “I can handle any cock. Any human cock, that is.”
The guy was trying to play it cool, but I could see he was intrigued by Lo’s unabashed candor.
What about Lo? She was flirting and teasing, but was she actually into him? I couldn’t tell.
We had a few more drinks and continued chatting. The fella next to us was married, had adult children, older than Lo, and claimed to be in Miami on business. But it was Thanksgiving weekend. Who is in Miami on business?
Lola was waxing rhapsodic about how much she loved Miami – the ocean, the beaches, the restaurants.
The guy interjected, “The orgasms on the boardwalk.”
Lo squirmed in her barstool and pressed her knees together.
She looked at me, embarrassed. I knew what happened.
I said, “You could say, she cums with the territory,” as I feigned spilling my water.
“That’s the worst pun you ever made,” said Lo as she watched me clean up the mess she made under her stool from her perch.
“Really? I’m sure I’ve made worse,” I said, looking up at her, hoping she wouldn’t have another accidental squirting orgasm.
“I’m sorry,” Lo apologized to our new friend, “Dad jokes.”
“I’m a dad,” he said, “no need to apologize.”
Along one side of the pool there were semi-private alcoves with recliners made for two. Lo ordered another drink and suggested we take the one that was recently vacated before someone else got it. She picked up her bag and casually sauntered to her destination.
Mr. Middleage followed her, leaving me to grab (and pay for) our last round.
When I got to the little cabana, Lo was lying down with her Mr. Marriedman next to her. I handed Lo her drink and said I was going for a swim. Her antics were beginning to upset me, if I’m honest.
I got in the warm water and rested up against the side of the pool with my drink in hand, watching Lo and her beau.
She lay with her legs crossed under her skirt. She removed her bikini top. The guy ogled her. They were making small talk. I could practically read Lo’s lovely lips when she said, “That’s ok, you can touch.”
The guy put his hand on Lo’s hip and slowly caressed her. Lo turned over and he put his hand down under her skirt and I could see him touch her bum as she took a sip from her straw.
She rolled on her side, showing him her tits and letting her skirt open in front. She said, “You like what you see?”
He said something I couldn’t make out.
“Are you hard?”
Again, I couldn’t make out the words.
“Jack it,” she commanded.
He pulled a towel over his cargo shorts and reached down. Lo watched him intently.
She loves being the stimulant for sexually starving strangers, the sweet release for men and women who need a focus for their swirling smut-dreams like a mantra for meditation.
She was speaking softly to him, encouraging him, telling him dirty things about her, probably telling him about how she sucked my cock after letting me have her ass that morning.
His head dropped back and he became rigid for a few seconds before crumpling like a suit having all its starch sucked out in one magic moment.
Lo got up and came into the pool. Her skirt billowed behind her in the water. She swam to me and said, “Let’s go, Daddio.”
“Mission accomplished?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. My mission is to make you cum like that,” she said as she grabbed my cock under the water.
We got out and Lo put her top on, and we walked out, both dripping wet, but she in more ways than one.
She blew a good-bye kiss to the man with the mess in his cargo.
Back at the hotel, Lo could hardly wait.
“Did you like everything today, Daddy?” she asked as she lay naked on the bed.
“Most of it,” I said, thinking it over.
“Let’s take a shower,” she said, just as I got out of my clothes and was very ready and eager to have her.
“What? Now?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I got sand in my hoo-ha.”
“What did you say?”
“You know, I’m not interested in any pearls in the ole clam.”
“Only you, darling, only you,” I said, amused at her pornographic poetry.
The shower had a small seat built into the back wall of it. She sat on it, spread her legs, looked up at me, and said, “Was I a very bad girl today, Daddy?”
“Yes, yes you were.”
“Was I a dirty little slut?”
“Very much so.”
“Are you mad that I let a man cum on me in public?”
“No, darling.”
“Are you mad that I walked around with his cum on my body all day?”
“Proud of your accomplishment?”
“Oh yeah,” she said.
“Am I terribly disgusting?” she asked.
“Not to me,” I said. I can’t lie.
“Show me, Daddy, that I’m yours,” she said.
I wasn’t sure what she was after.
She reached out and grabbed my cock and held it in her hand.
“You drank a lot at the bar,” she said.
“Not too much. A few drinks.”
“Have you peed even once today, Daddy?”
Now I knew where she was going.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” she said, a certain neediness in her voice.
I closed my eyes, relaxed, and let go.
She shook her tits and spread her legs wide as I drenched her in the warm stream from her chin down to her twat.
“That’s right, Daddy,” she said, “I’m such a slutty, cum-hungry, whore.”
I looked down at her, dripping wet, and said, “Ah, the Fountain of Youth!”
When I was done, we turned on the warm water and took turns washing and worshipping each other.
When we finally got in bed she said, “Use me, Daddy. Use me however you want. Treat me like your little fuck-doll.”
I had her on the bed just like I did in the morning. I slid in her puss only briefly and then went back to her other hole, filling her from tip to balls.
“Mmmmm, yes. Hold me down. I like that. Slap my ass. Slap my puss. Slap me. Hold me down. Hurt me. Make it hurt! Make me yours again, Daddy. I’ve been so bad today. I just want to be yours. Yours. Make me stop whoring around town. Make me good again. Make me so sore I can’t even walk. Make me stop searching for cock. Make me good again.” She went on like that the entire time I fucked her until I was nearly ready to cum – finally after a full day of teasing and edging, watching her degrade herself for me and for others, in private and in public. Finally, I was ready to explode with all that pent-up jealousy, desire, rage, ravage, revenge, lust, love, and “Lo!” I called out as I was about to erupt.
She quickly hopped off my rod and spun around, opening her mouth wide and accepting the offering I emitted like a parched nomad in the desert desirous of every last drop of life-giving liquid. She wrapped her mouth around my cock and sucked, encouraging me to continue cumming until I could stand no more.
I fell down on the bed next to her and immediately lost consciousness, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Thank You Daddy
Public Figure Exposé
Katie Hill
This blog is about love, sex, relationships, psychology, and sex. Yeah, I said sex twice because, if the name of the blog is “mysexlifewithlola.com,” then an expectation is created that there will be a lot of sex. So, there you have it.
This blog is decidedly not about politics. In fact, many of you dear readers may have noticed that through all the topsy-turvy turbulent times in which we are living, this blog has delicately navigated a course far from politics. There is a good reason for that. If you are reading this, it’s because it is a fun escape from whatever else is going on in your life. No need to bring all that baggage here as well.
But right now sex and politics have mingled in a way that make it appropriate for us to discuss.
You may have heard about Congresswoman Katie Hill recently. If not, allow me to summarize her story. She was, until last week, a Democratic representative from California. She’s only 32 and she got elected after being the executive director of the non-profit People Assisting the Homeless (PATH). Apparently, she also has a “kinky” side. She came out as bisexual after high school and it is alleged that she and her now estranged husband were involved with another woman in a consensual relationship.
These facts became a problem for Hill when allegations swirled that she had an inappropriate relationship with a male staffer – a violation of House ethics rules that were put in place to prevent exploitation of power differentials in the wake of #MeToo.
But the thing that sunk Hill’s ship was the release of nude photos of her, allegedly by her estranged husband in an act of revenge porn.
It seems to me that in this day and age we need to begin taking seriously the fact that people can be more than one thing. Katie Hill can be a successful, sincere, hard-working, do-gooder striving to help the homeless, represent her constituency, and bring equity and justice into the lives of many. And she can be married to a man, have relationships with women, and not be limited by traditional notions of monogamy. And she can be into taking nudie pics of herself and her lovers. All of this can be true of the same person. “Kink” does not mean bad or selfish or untrustworthy. “Public Figure” does not necessarily mean missionary position for the rest of your life with the same partner of the opposite sex. Aren’t we beyond that yet?
Further, though once upon a time it was the height of scandal for a woman to be exposed – think Phryne being exposed by her lawyer in ancient Athens, Lady Godiva, A Night in Paris, or The Great Celebrity Photo Leak of 2014 – today it seems as if everyone and their mother is eager to have their racy photos on the internet and trending! So what is the big deal? Andy Warhol spoke of everyone having 15 minutes of fame in the future. I think now that everyone will soon have their top 15 nude photos on the internet.
As optimistic as that may be, we also need to be realistic. There are still many backward-thinking, bigoted, misogynist, mean-spirited, spiteful, and opportunistic people out there who are not above using a woman’s nude images against her.
Lo and I were pondering all of this when, just the other night, one of her female friends from the NFWITSFW part of the internet (that stands for “no fucking way is this safe for work”) told her that she wants to be “exposed.”
“What do you mean, ‘exposed’?” asked Lo.
“You know, like, I want the pics of me nude and pregnant to be the first image result when someone searches for that.”
Lo said that if I wrote a story about her friend and posted it, she probably would be. Though Lo is a “sinfluencer,” I think she overestimates our power of “product placement.”
Our friend, Karla, or KB HotWife, as she likes to be known, said, “Use my real name.”
“What?!” asked Lo.
“Yeah,” said Karla.
“You’re sure to get all the attention you crave if we do that, but be careful what you wish for,” cautioned Lo.
Luckily for Karla, I’m not a speed writer. The next day she told Lo she changed her mind.
Both Lo and I were relieved. It’s one thing if she wants to use her own name, but we didn’t want to be the ones to expose her. Who knows, she might want to run for public office some day!
[Below, enjoy some photos Karla has sent us for you to enjoy.]
Open Auditions
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
[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.
Holding On Comes Easy
[Continued from “Lusting for Infidelity“]
Lola and Imogen had gone to bed together, leaving Robert and me alone in the kitchen. He looked over to me quizzically and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Oh well. May the best man win – and this time it was a woman.”
I looked back at him, smirked, and said, “Join me for a drink?”
He put down the towel with which he was drying the dishes, pulled out two tumblers from the cupboard, got some ice and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He poured a glass for me and one for him. A heavy pour. I looked at the bottle and said to him, “Eighteen-years-old. Old for a whisky, young for a woman.”
He laughed and we went outside by the fire. Not without irony, we both got under the heavy wool blanket and were side-by-side on the outdoor couch, our feet warmed by the flames in front of us. We were cozy next to each other, slowly sipping our drinks, laughing, and chatting as we gazed into the flickering light.
As I have mentioned, dear reader, prior to the whole ménage à trois with Lo, Robert and I were actually good friends and closely collaborating colleagues. But ever since Lo literally and metaphorically came between us, we have grown apart. It was good to share a drink, share a laugh, share a blanket, and share a bed with him without sharing Lo’s body for a change.
We got to talking about philosophy, art, and poetry. In a reflective voice, I said to Robert: “We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.”
“What’s that from?” he asked.
“Rilke’s ‘Requiem.’ One of his most beautiful poems,” I said.
We both pondered the words in silence when, out of the darkness, who should appear but Lo, bare-assed as the day she was born. She was tiptoeing toward us.
“Isn’t this cute,” she said, looking at the two of us, “two penises in a pod.”
“That’s not the expression,” I said.
“Shut up and make room for me,” she said, “it’s freezing out.”
Robert and I each moved to our respective sides and Lo nestled her naked body between the two of us. “What are you two up to?” she asked, suggestively.
“Just reciting poetry,” said Robert.
“Really?!”
“Yes,” I said “And what have you and Imogen been up to?”
“Nothing,” she said with a pout. “She just fell right to sleep. That’s why I’m here now.”
“Because you’re interested in reciting poetry by firelight under the stars?” I asked.
“What a romantic,” said Lo, rubbing my leg under the blanket. “No, because I’m interested in seeing which one of you is going to cum first. My money is on HH since he didn’t cum earlier.”
As she said this, she was reaching down my pants with her right hand and reaching down Robert’s pants with her left, fumbling for our firewood.
“My hands are so cold,” she said. “Warm them up.”
Each of us loosened our belts and undid our pants so she could have an easier time creating friction for her chilly palms. Her tits were exposed to the cool air and her nipples were hard. She turned to Robert first and kissed him for a bit and then she turned to me and entwined her tongue with mine, never letting go of her twin possessions.
Soon both Robert and I were turned toward her, our rods pointing at her as she stroked them masterfully. Robert was fondling her breasts and I was reaching down to her puss. I could feel how wet she was. She could feel how hard I was. I know she felt my cock throbbing in her hand, ready to explode. She held even more tightly. Soon I was ejaculating in rhythmic spurts all over her hips. When I was done, I stood up and let her lick me clean, allowing Robert to see my flaccid manhood in her mouth. Then it was his turn and he covered her in his own icing as she gave him the attention he needed at the moment. He imitated my actions by standing up to allow her lick the very last drops from his cock.
When she was done, she said, “I’m going to take a shower. You two get naked and I’ll meet you in bed.”
Both Robert and I did as we were told and Lo arrived in bed soon thereafter. Robert, who had cum twice that evening, was depleted. I was no better. Lo engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between the two of us.
Autoerotica
“Come,” I heard her yell from the bedroom down the hall as I walked into the house after a long Friday at work. She might have been saying “Cum!” to a lover. There’s never any way to tell from the sound of her voice – only on the page.
I cautiously walked down the long hall to the bedroom. What would I find?
The door was open a crack. I peeked in. She was naked, on her tum, her round rump nicely illuminated by the setting sun. Her legs were bent at the knees and her bare feet dangled up in the air, twined around each other. In her hand she held her phone.
“Come in, Daddio,” she said without turning her eyes from the screen in front of her.
I walked in and removed my jacket and tie.
“What you up to?” I inquired.
“I bet you’d like to know.”
“That is why I asked,” I said flatly as I removed my shirt and undid my belt.
“Get naked, get hard, and get in me,” she commanded.
“I’m already hard,” I said.
“As you should be,” she replied, moving her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers and then moving her hand to her ass and circling her wet fingers around her special spot.
“Oh,” I commented, “You want it like that?”
“No, Daddio,” she said, “I’m just enjoying myself.”
Always coy when it comes to her ass. Always for someone else, or for her own pleasure, but never for me.
I got behind her and tried to look at her phone by leaning forward over her back and seeing over her shoulder.
“Get up there and fuck me,” she instructed, her finger still rounding her sweet spot as I slid into her puss. “I’ll tell you what I’m looking at.”
I did as she said and she told me that a fellow blogger, a woman named TJ, wrote to us saying, “I love reading your blog. It gets me so wet.”
“Really?! Do I know this TJ?” I asked as I thrusted harder.
“She writes The Lustful Empress.”
I slowed down a bit trying to remember which erotic blog that was.
“Don’t stop!” Lo said as her hand grabbed the girth of my cock and she pushed her ass back into my hips, bouncing off of my bare bodkin.
I resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding.
“Look,” she said, putting her phone up on her back for me to read the email. It said:
I love how accepting you are of Lola’s magnificent sexuality. You guys seem to have ‘it’ don’t you? I wish I could masturbate as openly as you do, Lola. I feel self-conscious, like an addict or something. But I fucking love fucking myself. . . it’s the best. I am more autosexual than anything else I think. Keep celebrating each other.
Fan mail like that makes it all worth it. Well, that’s not completely true. I know that I would be writing all this whether no one read it, or only one person read it – Lola. But knowing that others read it, enjoy it, and get off to it is the icing on the cake.
Speaking of icing, as I read the email, Lo began to climax as one hand worked her ass and the other, from underneath, worked her clit. Her Kegel muscles contracted and I was squeezed out of her as she curled into a convulsing, throbbing ball, squirting uncontrollably. The more she pushed her knees up to her breasts in a tightly bound fetal position, the more she sprayed the bed and my knees. I lifted up her phone to prevent it from being ruined by the liquid.
“Fuuuu-uuuuck,” she groaned as the last bit of lady juice spurted out of her.
When she regained control of her limbs, she slowly got up and pulled the soaked sheets with her, dropping them in the laundry basket. “I’ll clean up, Daddy, but right now I have to get ready.”
“Ready for what?” I asked, holding my throbbing, hard rod in my hand.
“My date.”
“Date?”
“With Robert. I told you, didn’t I?”
I just looked dumbfounded.
“We’re going to the movies.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“And what are you seeing?”
“The Favourite.”
“Is he your favorite now?” I asked, demoralized.
“No, Daddio, she said, caressing me and looking up at me with those beautiful big brown eyes. “That’s the name of the movie. It’s a period piece.”
“Really? Not a porno?”
“Well, I hear it has a lot of woman-on-woman sex scenes.”
“I knew it!”
“But that’s not why we’re going to see it.”
“You’re going to see it to have sex in a crowded theater.”
“Oh, Daddy, you always impute to me the most debased of motives.”
“So why are you going to see it?”
“It’s historical. It has great sets, acting, and costumes.”
“And?”
“And probably to fuck in a dark theater.”
“Don’t get caught.”
“But getting caught is at least half the fun. Does that make you jealous?” she asked, as her hand stroked my hard cock.
“So you’re leaving me home alone on a Friday night?”
“Not totally alone,” she said, “You have TJ.”
“Who?”
“TJ, the woman from the blog.”
“Oh, right,” I said to my consolation prize.
Lola made the bed and I watched her tits droop as she bent over to tuck in the sheets. Her naked body moved like a delightful dance as she unfurled the blanket.
“Look,” she said, as she hopped back in the bed and took up her phone. I sat next to her. Her left hand stroked my hard erection up and down as she scrolled through TJ’s blog with her right hand.
We read and looked at the photos together.
“She sounds like she could be your twin sister,” I said as I read about how TJ becomes aroused by her own naked body.
“Hold this,” she said, giving me the phone.
Now, with her right hand she was stroking her pussy and I scrolled through the blog.
“Oh boy,” I said, “You want her.”
Lo bit her lower lip.
“Lo,” I cautioned, “You just made the bed. You don’t want to. . .”
Before I could finish my sentence, she had jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before releasing her ejaculate all over the tile floor with a scream.
When she had regained her composure, she got some paper towels and got on her hands and knees to clean up the mess.
“What time is your movie?”
“Eight,” she called back. “But we’re meeting for drinks first.”
“Well, you’re going to be late,” I told her.
She jumped in the shower and I continued to look at the blog, hard up.
“Hey,” she called to me, “you’re not allowed to cum. You know that, right?”
“I still don’t understand how that is fair,” I said, taunting her.
I got up and looked at her in the shower.
“Get!” she screamed. She hates when I see her in her shower cap.
“How is it fair that you get to cum twice and then go on a date with another man and I’m not allowed any autoerotica myself?”
“First,” she said from behind the shower curtain, “it’s not autoerotic if you use someone else’s pictures. Second, you didn’t count the three times I came before you got home.”
“Lo, now you’re just. . .”
“And third,” she cut me off, “this has nothing to do with fairness. It has everything to do with me. What I want. What I allow you. Got that? Don’t forget it.”
Lo jumped out of the shower and hastily dried off before slipping into a blue dress and blue heels. No panties.
“You’re going to be cold like that,” I cautioned.
“I’m planning on things heating up quickly,” she said.
Soon enough she was out the door, leaving me alone.
I scrolled through TJ’s blog, which I recalled I had seen before, and I thought to myself, “She said no cumming, but she didn’t say no edging.”
I spent about an hour going through each and every post before I thought to myself, “If I don’t stop this right now, I’m going to explode!”
In order to take the edge off, I switched to photos of Lo, which are always fair game, and I pulled out the old Stoya Fleshlight. Lubing up Stoya and myself, I imagined what Lo was up to with Robert. I didn’t even need to see Lo’s photos. Soon enough I was cumming and cumming hard and deep in Stoya’s pussy, just thinking about Lo in a dark theater, legs spread, and Robert discretely moving his hand up her smooth thigh until reaching that wet pussy, pulsating with anticipation. Gently he would rub and flick her pussy lips, clandestinely making her cum. I pictured her hands gripping the seat and her upper teeth biting down on her bottom lip to prevent the scream from escaping her mouth. That was enough to bring me over the edge and release me into a deep sleep.
Hot & Cold
When I left, Lo and I were in a big fight. It’s never good to leave for a week-long business trip halfway across the country on bad terms. Especially with Lo. There wasn’t one thing that was the catalyst of this rift, but rather lots of little things. Both she and I had been dealing with pressures at work, I had been recovering from the flu, she had an unexpected major expense that had to be paid. We both were stressed, exhausted, and short-tempered. Each of us had been prickly with the other, like two porcupines in close quarters.
“Come here, Daddio,” she said the night before I left as I was getting ready for bed. It was her way of trying to rekindle the relationship. “I’m so cold. Come and warm me up.” Though she really was cold, she also was naked on the bed, spreading her legs for me, rubbing her puss.
“Cold? Looks to me like you have a very warm fleece,” I said of her au naturel triangle, “and all that friction you’re making might light that bush on fire.” The words came out more sarcastic and biting than I intended. My loving little banter was not warmly received.
“If you don’t like it, you can’t have it,” she shot back, covering herself with the blankets.
“I never said I didn’t like it.”
“Well, too late. This bush is only for someone who truly appreciates me.”
“And who might that be?”
“ME!” she said, pulling out her Hitachi, her dildo, and her phone.
No sooner had she gotten the giant white ice cream cone revved up and the dildo delved in deep and the phone queued to one of her favorite porn videos than, to her great surprise, the phone rang! She nearly jumped out of the bed. She dropped the Hitachi and it was still buzzing. Her dildo was left dangling, and she had to fumble with her phone as she said hello because all the moaning and groaning sounds of the porno film were still playing.
“Hi Lo,” the person on the other end said, “Is this an ok time?”
“Yeah. Yes. Sure. Just one sec.,” said Lo as she tried to compose herself and shut off all her stimulation devices. Finally she was focused on the call and I climbed into bed next to her, stroking my cock. Seeing her pleasure herself still gets me off after all this time. But seeing her interrupted and frustrated is a rare delight.
It was Robert. He needed someone to talk to. He was feeling despondent. And he had been scrolling through the blog.
I curled up next to Lo and whispered, “Don’t tell him I’m here,” as I guided my cock into her cupped hand. She mindlessly gave me a hand-job as she talked to Robert. Or rather, I should say, I eased my way in-and-out of her palm. She was unaware of or unconcerned with my movements.
She talked to him in a consoling and kind tone, listening to his lament of loneliness. He hadn’t been with someone in so long. The night at the museum was such a powerful moment for him. Since then he had done more study of Koons and his Made in Heaven installation.
When I heard that, I was both amused and angered. I’m the one who turned Lo onto Koons! I deserve the credit for that. Whatever.
I continued to slide my cock in-and-out of her cupped hand. I kept quiet.
“What did you like about it?” asked Lo to Robert in her seductive tone of voice.
“I, um, I liked, I like that you suggested it to me.”
“Really?” asked Lo, intrigued. “Why?”
“Lo, I, uh, I never met a woman like you.”
“Go on,” she said, captivated by the story of herself.
“You’re so brazen. Is that the right word? So, daring. So. . .”
“Slutty?”
“That’s not the word I was going to use.”
“Use it,” she commanded.
“What?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her properly.
“Call me a slut. I like it. Say it. I’m touching myself now.”
She wasn’t. She was holding the phone with one hand and my member with the other.
“OK,” said Robert. “You’re a slut.”
“Yesss,” said Lo.
That was too much for me. I pulled back and grabbed my cock and came all over myself as Lo looked on, desirously.
Now she was touching herself.
“Are you jackin’ it?” she asked Robert.
“Am I. . . ?”
“Are you jacking off? Stroking yourself?”
“No,” he said, as if offended.
“Why not?”
“Lo, I didn’t call you like someone would call a phone sex service.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I. . .”
“But you can. What do you want to hear?”
There was a long silence on the other end interrupted only by Lo’s occasional moans of pleasure. Self-pleasure.
“Do you want to hear that I loved sucking you off?” she asked.
“You did?”
“Yessss,” she said.
“Why?”
“I love sucking cock. Any cock. Lots of cock. I love helping guys out. I love giving relief. Let me help you. Are you by your computer?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Pull up a pic of me if you haven’t already.”
“I, I, I,” Robert stammered.
“You already had it up, didn’t you?” accused Lo.
“I did,” he admitted.
“Good. Which pic is it?”
“It’s of you in your neon blue panties stroking your pussy lips.”
“You like that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Well that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. I’m stroking my wet, pink, pussy lips with my beautifully manicured fingers, slowly sliding them up and down and in and out. Does that turn you on?”
“Yes.”
“Are you stroking your cock?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, I want you to hang up the phone and take pics of you stroking it to my pics. Make sure my photo is in the frame so I know that I’m the one who is making you hard and makes you cum. You will cum, won’t you?”
“If you want me to.”
“I do.”
“OK.”
“Do it and send me the pics.”
“OK.”
“And Robert.”
“Yes?”
“What am I?”
“A dirty, filthy slut.”
“That’s right. Don’t forget it,” she said and she hung up on him.
I was cleaning myself off when she got the notification that a text was sent to her. She opened it. There were three photos. One of Robert jackin’ it to her pics. One of him cumming. And one of the mess he made. Lo looked at them again and again and she eventually came herself.
“Thanks,” I said.
“For what?” she said.
“For making me cum,” I said.
“Oh, did I do that?” she asked, sincerely unaware of her passive powers.
The next morning, before Lo woke up, I was off to the airport, sad that we hadn’t properly reconciled.
Compersion
My good friend, Dr. Robert Smith, thought I was unaware of the time Lo sucked his cock, but there he was wrong. Lo may cheat, but she doesn’t lie. In fact, she brags. Furthermore, I find her regaling me with tales of her infidelity arousing. And Lo found Robert’s erectile dysfunction not only endearing, but a personal challenge.
The next time we saw him, at a fundraiser reception in an art museum, Lo affixed herself to him. Arm-in-arm they strolled the corridors, pausing in dimly lit corners. It was a nighttime event and the university spared no expense and was eager to show off its faculty to the wealthy alumni and other donors. Because of the book I published long ago on art, I was one of the featured speakers. After a brief hello exchanged with Robert, I was left to review my notes and consult with the university president about the order of the program. However, every once in a while, I’d catch a glimpse of Lo leading Robert about, taking delight in the whispers and scandal that she was causing among our petty and gossipy colleagues. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t irk me a little bit. It would have been a totally different story if I could have been with them, observing, commenting, and teased by Lola’s cuckolding up close.
As it was, they disappeared out of my sight. I only heard later, while horizontal with Lo in the darkness of our bedroom, impaling her with my rock-hard rod, between her gasps and groans, what happened.
“I walked with him as he politely escorted me through the various galleries: Impressionists, Expressionists, Cubists, and so on. At each one he attempted to explain to me what I already knew, but I flattered him with my oos and ahs and reallys? – as if he were telling me something new.”
“You’re bad,” I said. “I bet you do that with me too.”
“No, Daddy, never.”
Her lies are transparent.
She continued, “I knew the museum very well, of course, and I eventually led him to the contemporary art gallery. I asked him if he liked contemporary art and he admitted he didn’t really understand it.”
This was a rather intellectual conversation for pillow talk. But I was willing to follow her lead.
She said in her sultry, seduction voice:
When we got to the contemporary, I brought him to see Richard Prince and his ‘Girlfriend’ series. He looked very confused and asked, ‘How can this possibly be art?’
I asked, ‘Don’t you find it beautiful? The artist was so in love with his girlfriend that he chose to photograph her nude and put her up in an art gallery for all to see.’
‘That’s exploitation,’ he said.
‘Not if she likes it,’ I said.
‘A good feminist like you? – How could you like it?’
‘How could I like being photographed naked and put on display for all to see?’ I asked to clarify his meaning.
‘I mean, how could you think that she likes it or that a woman likes it or. . .’ he stammered uncomfortably, ‘how could you like this,’ he said, indicating the large photograph.
‘You know,’ I said, ‘HH does the same for me.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘He likes to photograph me nude and then share it with the world.’
‘What?!’ he asked, shocked.
I looked down at his crotch to see if he was getting hard. I think he was.
‘It’s called candaulism. It’s a kink. I’m surprised you don’t know of it – an educated man like you,’ I said, gripping his bicep. ‘It comes from an ancient Greek story about Candaules, the king of Lydia, who was so proud of his beautiful wife, he arranged to allow his minister, Gyges, to see her naked.’
‘Is that so?’ he said, as if he were only academically interested.
‘Yes. It turned out that the queen, Nyssia, was aware of the spying eyes and, according to legend, in order to teach her husband a lesson, summoned her husband to come to the bed and pleasure her. Of course she knew that the figure in the shadows was not her husband, but, unable to escape, Gyges obeyed the command of the queen and, in the dim light, approached the bed. All the while Candaules was secretly watching with a curious mixture of arousal and jealously. Gyges entered the bed and then entered the queen. She said all sorts of salacious things as they made love in order to drive the point of her lesson home, and that she did, wounding the suffering king with her cries of passion. Finally, at the climactic moment, the king could hold back no longer and he made himself known to both Nyssia and Gyges. Drawing his royal sword, the king made to slay the dutiful minister, but Gyges narrowly avoided the steel blade and, removing it from the king’s hands, impaled the king with his own sword. A tragic tale, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, yes indeed. And it should serve as a cautionary tale for HH.’
‘Oh, but that is all ancient history,’ I said, waving my hand. ‘What HH and I do together is very fun. Its proper term is ‘compersion.’ That is, the delight of seeing one you love pleasured by another. Would you like to see?’ I asked, pulling out my phone.
‘Perhaps later,’ he said just as we approached the Koons’ sculpture. ‘Dear Lord!’ he exclaimed as he saw the porcelain rendering of Woman in Tub, ‘What is this gallery?! The Museum of Pornography?!’
‘Oh, don’t be so rigid, and hardened in your ideas of beauty,’ I said to him as I patted him on the chest. ‘This is a classic.’
‘Oh yeah, right up there with the Mona Lisa,’ he said sarcastically.
Having my phone out, I snapped a shot. ‘It should be,’ I said. ‘You’re just priggish in your stodgy ole professor way. Don’t be such a prude.’
“I bet you weren’t a prude, were you,” I said to Lo as I continued my steady rhythmic forays in and out of her puss with my cock.
“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.” she said.
They returned to the courtyard of the museum where I was to give my talk and I watched them sitting in the audience next to each other. Lo’s legs were crossed and she was proudly displaying her beautifully shod foot. At one point I saw them passing notes.
“What did you write to him?” I asked her.
“I just wrote that I found it incredibly sexy to see you up there at the podium in the museum giving your talk.”
“Really?”
“True, Daddy,” she said. “Do you like that?”
“I do.”
“And then I wrote that I was getting too wet to sit still.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did, Daddy. That’s when I got up.”
I remembered seeing her walk out on my speech. The thought of the reason why was too much for the erogenous zone of my brain to handle and I unleashed a torrent of my pent-up desire inside her.
“Oh Daddy,” she said, surprised, “Stay in me while I tell you the next little part.”
“OK,” was all I could mutter as I caught my breath.
I went to the Ladies Room and quickly took care of my craving. When I returned, I sat next to Robert and asked if I missed anything.
He said, ‘No, but I feel like I missed something.’
‘Oh,’ I said, ‘What’s that?’
‘You,’ he said.
‘Me?’ I asked.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I missed you when you were gone and I’m supremely curious as to where you went and what you went to do.’
‘Come with me,’ I said, ‘and I’ll show you.’
We got up and I took him to the Medieval room of the museum, and there, in the dim light, surrounded by the muted reds and blues of the stained glass windows, I sat with him at a pew and took out my phone to show him all the photos of me from the blog, most of them of me masturbating.
‘Robert,’ I said, ‘Here we are in a place of devotional art and you see all these beautiful images and the illuminated manuscripts over there?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
‘Well, this,’ I said, indicating the images on my phone, ‘is HH’s devotional literature for me. This is the illuminated manuscript of the 21st century. Sex is no longer sinful. Sex is spiritual. And I am a sex goddess.’
“How extraordinarily pompous of you!” I said.
“You would have said the same,” she retorted.
“You know me too well. But I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“Rub off on me, Daddy! Rub off on me!” she pleaded as I was still firmly sheathed in her dripping cunt.
“What happened next?” I asked as I leaned into her, pressing my now tumescent cock deeper. She came and she came in massive orgasmic waves. Clearly the memory of being the object of worship was pleasing to her.
“Then he took the phone and looked at it as he leaned toward me. Our lips touched and he held me tightly in his arms as our tongues entwined. I saw that, as he was kissing me, he was looking over my shoulder at the phone he held in his hand, staring at my sexy photos. I reached down and grabbed his cock and it was rock hard. His other hand reached down and felt my soft leg all the way up to my panties. I wanted so much more, but the event had just let out and we had to look presentable.”
“That’s when I found you with him walking over to me with that devilish grin on your face.”
“I thought I looked angelic.”
“A devil is a fallen angel,” I reminded her.