Fountain of Youth

Lola had planned on one more meeting with Terence at the sperm bank, but the clinic had a strict rule about donors not being able to sign up for a wank more than once a fortnight.  In the intervening time, Lo’s little meeting with the director required that she attend to some other business.  You see, the director of the clinic – the owner actually – was none other than Lili’s Uncle Collin.  That’s right!  The same Uncle Collin who had hosted us at the fateful Mount Bliss.

“Hello Lola,” he said, looking up from the wooden desk behind which he sat.

“Collin?!”

“Who else?”

Lola could only look dumbfounded.  He was the last person she had expected to find at this suburban office park and running a nondescript sperm collection clinic.  What the hell was he doing here?  But then, when she thought about the décor of the place – the David Hamilton prints, the Roy Stuart posters, the Sabrina Dacos book – well, then it all began to make a bit more sense.

Lola asked all the questions that had swarmed in her mind.  What are you doing here?  How did you know it was me?  Isn’t this place supposed to be anonymous?  I never even signed in!

Suffice it to say, Collin has his ways.  A man with the unlimited means at his disposal that he has can find out a lot of things that the rest of us mere monetary mortals would find impossible.  It so turned out that his latest scheme, with his nephew David, is to develop and sell feminine moisturizing and beauty products made from the sperm of voluntary cumtributors.

“You see,” he said, “after I saw Fight Club, I thought to myself, ‘That’s ingenious!  Making soap from the fat siphoned off through liposuction.  I gave it some further consideration and struck on this even more ingenious idea.”  Collin is rarely modest.  “Collect the semen of millions of men and manufacture it, bottle it, and market it as conditioner, moisturizer, and other skin-care products for women.  Turns out – and I only learned this from the boy wonder, David – that semen contains a powerful antioxidant called spermine.  Spermine is the central component of seminal fluid and gives it its unique aroma.  It also has many health benefits that are only beginning to be discovered.”

“So, this place is just a front?” asked Lo.

“Oh no,” said Collin, “this is an actual sperm bank for the usual purposes – licensed, regulated, on the up-and-up, legit.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“I had to start somewhere.”

“I suppose so.”

“You’re looking good.”

“Oh, shucks,” said Lo, “I always look good after I jerk a man off.”

“I bet you do.”

“I don’t suppose this place will produce enough sperm for your worldwide distribution of beauty products.”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.  This is just a trial run.  What I’m thinking about doing is on a grand scale.  That’s why I’ve asked you into my office.”

“How so?”

“You see, I want to build a state-of-the-art facility that is a cross between museum and a maisons de tolerance.

“I’m sorry,” said Lo, “but you lost me with that last one.  My French is a bit rusty.”

“A maisons closes,” said Collin unhelpfully.  Lola looked perplexed.  “Fancy French brothels like Aux Belles Poules or Le Chabanais.”

“So there would be prostitutes there?”

“No, no.  Not at all.  That would be. . . illegal.  We can’t have that,” said Collin with a smile.  “But there would be the option of the donors hiring a nurse or clinical assistant.”

“You mean. . .”

“Someone like you to give the boys a hand.”

“I see.  Is that why you summoned me here?”

“I would like your assistance in the planning.  I need some help choosing, well, that is – mostly the interior decorating.”

“Oh,” said Lo, a little surprised.

“I liked your choice of posters for room number three,” he said.

“So did I,” replied Lo.

“However, for my new facility, I’d like you to help with the overall design.  You have a certain skill at making men feel. . .”

“Generous?” inserted Lo.

“Inspired.”

“Well, I certainly like the direction you’re going.”

Collin wasn’t sure how to take that.  “The David Hamilton?”

“And Roy Stuart, Sabrina Dacos, and, who knows, maybe all the staff, like Ellie and Courtney, could provide boudoir photos as well to give the place a more personal touch.”

“I love the way you think, Ms. Down.”

“Tell me more about this scheme of yours.”

Collin went on to tell Lo that, unlike an actual sperm bank, a collection center such as he envisioned wouldn’t be under any oversight by regulators since the collections were not to be used to make babies.  And the product he hoped to produce wouldn’t be under the auspices of the F.D.A. either because it would be a cosmetic product, not a drug.  Best of all, cosmetics in the U.S. have almost no oversight – not like in Europe.  Lo inquired about the logistics of it.  Collin said that the men would be paid better than the going rate at the fertility clinics and, “they’ll be glad to hear this, they can come as often as they wish since the centrifugal process – or however David plans on deriving the essence of men’s essence – doesn’t need the same sort of sperm count that a fertility clinic does!”

“That’s it!” said Lo, excited.

“What’s it?”

“Your catch phrase – Cum as often as you want!”

“That’s good.  That’s very good,” said Collin, stroking his bearded chin.  “Yes,” he continued, “men can cum twice, even three times a day if they’re up for it.”

“And I’ll see to it that they are up for it!” said Lo.

Sabrina Dacos

Sabrina Dacos

Sabrina Dacos

Roy Stuart

David Hamilton

 

 

 

 

Stiff Competition

Lola didn’t know if she was in trouble, but she was on her way to meet the director of the sperm bank.  She walked down the long hallway, lined with the framed color posters of David Hamilton’s work, and at the end of the hallway she knocked.  “Come in,” she heard a man’s voice say from behind the door.

Art by David Hamilton

Art of making art by David Hamilton

Art by David Hamilton

We shall save for later what transpired behind the director’s closed door after Lola entered it, but for now, let us pick our story up when Lola arrived at the clinic for a third appointment with Terence.

They met in the parking lot, as usual, and Lola was wearing her long white coat, but this time she had a surprise for Terence under it.  Or rather, she had nothing to surprise Terence with under her coat.

Inside the clinic the receptionist again directed them to room #3.  Upon entering, it was Lola who was surprised, for on the walls, in place of the framed posters of Lola’s cream pies, were framed posters of Ellie, the night-shift receptionist who had helped Terence by coaxing his cum out of him (before Lola fulfilled that job) and by reading to him from Match, Cinder & Spark.  Apparently, she found out about the Lola poster substitute and that Terence was “two-timing” her with Lo during the day.  She took liberties and removed Lo’s framed photos, replacing them with her own.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie cumcovered

One poster was a black-and-white of Ellie, nude, spread eagle with cum covering her hairy pussy.  The other was of her on her knees taking one cock in her mouth and two cocks on either side of her as she stroked them off.  You couldn’t see her face in either of those posters, but, just to make sure there was no mistake, there was a framed photo of Ellie in a salmon colored outfit of shorts and an oversized blouse wearing glasses and smiling or almost laughing.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie knows how to please three guys at once

Lola thought, “It’s on.”

“Whoa!” said Terence upon seeing the framed photos.

Ellen Mowbray

“You know her?”

“Um, yeah.  She’s the one who used to help me out.  She works the evening shift.”

Lola began to walk out of the room.

“Hey!  Where are you going?” asked Terence, confused.

“To request another room.”

“Why?”

“I find it rude.”

“Rude?”

“Desperate.”

“Desperate?”

“Thirsty.”

“Thirsty?”

“Is there an echo in here?  Look, she’s clearly still salty about what happened with Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Her ex-boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, you can read all about it on the blog.  She’s just being petty.”

“Maybe she wanted you to see it.  Maybe it’s for your pleasure?”

“You like?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I do.”

“Fine,” said Lo.  “Pull out your pud.”  She was very matter-of-fact.  No seduction, no sensuality, no affection.

Terence, who had been looking forward to this for days, was eager to comply.

Lo then opened her overcoat to reveal she was wearing absolutely nothing under it!

“Ellie ever help you like this?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

Lo put on the latex gloves, lubricated, reached down between his legs and began stroking him.  She leaned forward so that her breasts were dangling tantalizingly in front of his face.  She exaggerated her hand motion so that her heavy breasts wobbled and banged up against one-another.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her heaving mounds.  Lo slowly slid her hand down below the shaft of his cock to his large balls.  She massaged them and fondled them, gently playing with them with her fingertips.  He clearly liked it.  Lo didn’t speak this time.  She just watched his facial expressions.  Her focus went from his face to his crotch and back again.  And again.

She then surreptitiously slid her index finger down below his balls to his perineum.  She used a feather-light touch on it for a while and then cautiously, furtively slid her index finger further south to his anus.

“Are you a top or a bottom when you’re with men?” she asked.

“Switch,” he said in a tense whisper.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

He got up out of the chair.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He complied.

“Bend over,” she said, “and let’s have a full rectal exam.”

He bent over.  She inserted one, then two, then three fingers of her right hand as her left hand reached around and stroked his cock.  He was looking up at the large poster of Ellie on the wall.  Lola was too.  Lo continued her erotic massage, but it wasn’t long before he said, “The cup!  The cup!”

Lo passed him the specimen cup and stroked him as he held the jar in front of his cock and filled it with more of his donation than he ever had before.  His knees buckled and his entire body went tense and spasmed.  He could hardly stand.  He let out multiple calls of Lola’s name.  Then he collapsed back in the chair, his cock still twitching.

He passed the collection cup to Lo who screwed on the lid tightly.

Lo smiled at him as she stood before his depleted body.  The contrast between her tall, strong, lusty, flush and full body standing naked over his weak and limp body couldn’t have been more pronounced.  She removed her gloves and threw them in the special trash bin for contaminated waste.

After he regained some of his vigor, she said, “Now you stand up and let me have the chair.”

He complied.

Lo sat in the chair, put her feet up on it, spreading her legs, and she began making small circular motions over her clit with her right hand.  He watched her intently.  Her movements increased in speed and intensity until she was now rubbing up-and-down in small, rapid strokes.  This technique got more intense still until she was patting and then slapping her wet pussy.  She progressed to inserting one and then two fingers deep in her pussy.  She fingered herself for about a minute until SPLOOSH!  She squirted straight ahead, sprinkling Terence with her holy water.  It was a long, strong, and voluminous stream that soaked him and his clothes.  He didn’t seem to mind.

Ellen Mowbray

Ellie leaving work after a hard day

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie getting off after a hard day at the masturbatorium

Elln Mowbray

Ellie third from right

Digital Inspiration

It appears that word got out about Lola’s “immoral support” of Ted, the “known donor” for our friends Gina and Cam.  You see, a while back Lo “encouraged” Ted’s selfless sperm donation.  I’m pleased to say that the process eventually proved successful.  Gina and Cam are now the proud parents of a baby boy!

They are so proud that they have told a wide circle of friends and acquaintances all about the method by which they got pregnant, including Lo’s special role in it.  One morning, out of the blue, as Lo was scrolling through her long list of long dongs, micro penises, clits and tits to get herself off, she got a message from a stranger.  That’s not too uncommon, but this stranger knew our friends Gina and Cam and he had an unusual request.

His name was Terence and he was a man in his mid-thirties.  Like most of Cam and Gina’s friends, he wasn’t straight, but he wasn’t out as gay either.  He, like Lola, identified as “queer.”  But he wasn’t just queer, he had a downright perverted side to him.  There were a lot of things that he enjoyed doing to get himself off, but I’ll let those unfold as we get to them.  At this point, the one kink that he revealed to Lo was pertinent to the ask he had of her.

“I go to the sperm bank regularly to make a donation,” he said.

That’s quaint, thought Lo, as first.  A good Samaritan who, like a blood donor, gives of himself for others.  Not quite.  It turns out he likes to go there in order to wank in a public setting.  He likes the thought that the receptionist knows that he is jerking off in the room next to her.

This revelation really turned Lo on.  She had never thought of that possibility before.  Whenever she had thought of a sperm bank, which, given Lo’s predisposition for naughty imaginings she had thought of on occasion, she only thought of guys going in there embarrassed, a little humiliated, and bashful.  She hadn’t entertained the idea of a quasi-exhibitionist being turned on by the thought of everyone knowing from the outset what his particular purpose for visiting the clinic is and that, when done, they all know for certain what he had just accomplished.

She was intrigued, to say the least, and she carried on a lengthy correspondence with him.  He told her that he had been doing this on a regular basis at the same collection clinic for months now.  He also mentioned that – by design or happy coincidence – all the nurses at this clinic are very attractive and that he had built a special rapport with one of them named Ellie.

He told Lo how Ellie always works the closing shift.  For convenience, the collection clinic is open from 8:00 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.  They found that they get more people willing to donate after work hours.  She is the only staff on site, except for the security guard, after five.  He had made it a regular habit to donate when she’s working and she has taken some liberties with the rules.  It started out that he noticed her flirting with him.  Then, one week, he found a photo of her on the top of the pile of magazines.  Each week the photo she placed there got a little bit more risqué.  One week, when he exited the collection station room, he apologized to her and said, “I made a little mess.  I missed the target and spilled some semen on your, I mean, the photo in there.”

She gave him a knowing look.  He imagined, but couldn’t confirm, that she went into the room after and got the cum-covered glossy photo of herself and did something with it.  The next week he found she had left a nude photo of herself.  He made sure to make a mess of that too and apologize again.

Within the month, she was in the collection room with him, jerking him off.  She began by merely stroking him.  But then it progressed to her stroking him and reading passages from books and blogs.  At one point, she read to him from Match, Cinder & Spark.  She was already familiar with Lola and me because we had written about her in the post, “Triangles of Sadness.”  After she broke up with Steven, she actually became infatuated with Lola, even though Lola was the cause of her breakup.

Ellie & Steve before the breakup

It was a small world because she also read the story about Lola: “ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor.”  Terence realized that this Lola Down was the same person that his friends Cam and Gina had told him about.  Now he had her email address (through the blog) and he reached out to her.  Having learned about Lo’s personality, he wisely included some sexy selfies.

Terence expressed his kinky wish to Lo.  He knew that this donation clinic allowed for wives or significant others to accompany the donor in order to help with the donation process.  He wanted Lola to pose as his girlfriend for that purpose.  And, he wanted to do it during the day shift when his special nurse wouldn’t be there and so the nurses who didn’t know him would now be aware of exactly what he and Lola were up to in that room.  It was an extension and variation on his fundamental kink which was simply jerking off in a room merely a few feet from the nurse who knows what he’s doing and then seeing her face afterwards.

Perhaps unremarkably, the exotic and extravagant nature of this kink turned Lo on.  She spent many nights whispering in my ear, asking me what I thought it would be like for her to do this for Terence because, you see, Terence had just donated and so now needed to wait a couple of more weeks before he could schedule to make his deposit with Lo’s assistance.

Night-after-night she tantalized me by masturbating in the bed next to me, looking at Terence’s photos – which only got more explicit and, according to Lo, more hot, each day – and telling me the narrative of how she would like the session to go.

Lola looking at cumtributes.

Finally, the big day came – and so did Lo, many times that morning before left our warm bed to meet Terence at the fertility clinic.

It was a bitterly cold day.  We had been in the grip of a cold-snap for two or three days already.  Lo had spent at least an hour prepping for her little lab-assistant role.  She tried on at least five different outfits, asking me each time, “What do you think about this?”  I loved each one, but as soon as I said so, she found it objectionable for some reason and started anew.  Finally, she decided on a short skirt, black nylons under it, no panties.  A black, mostly transparent, crepe blouse, no bra.  Over that incredibly hot outfit, she draped her long, heavy white coat and put on her knee-high leather boots.

Lo getting dressed for “work”

I was desperate to have her.  Every outfit change, she stripped back down to nothing at all and it was too much for me to bear.  I was hard and suffering and she made me sit through the entire process.  Not that I was complaining, but it was a form of sexual torture.

She left me high and dry with the instruction that, under no circumstances, was I to masturbate.  That is pretty much a standing rule, but she knew how hot she had made me for her and she knew she’d want all that pent-up energy for herself upon her return.

Just like that she was off!  She was to meet Terence at the clinic.  Separate cars.  This was not a date.  Lo was very clear about that.  This was a clinical assistance project.

Whatever she wanted to call it, she arrived before Terence.

Lo waited in the car.  She could see her breath as she waited.  She touched herself between her legs, gently stroking over the nylons.  She liked the feel of the nylon as it rubbed against her pussy and clit.  She was getting wet.  Her warm wetness and the dropping temperature in the car was stimulating her between her legs.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to wait much longer.  Either he had to arrive or she’d have to “go all the way” with herself.

She saw Terence walking in the parking lot.  “Good,” she thought, “because any longer and I’d cum right here and who knows?  Maybe I’d squirt and it would freeze!”

Lo practically leapt out of the car and met him.

“Hey,” she said, trying to play it cool.

“Hi.”

It was awkward, but only for a moment.  Lola grabbed his hand.  “We’re supposed to be a couple, right?”

“Right,” he said.

They walked together into the clinic.  They stopped at the reception desk.  Terence flashed a cordial but gregarious smile at the woman sitting behind counter.  He introduced himself and said that he had an appointment for noon.  The woman typed something into her computer and then smiled back.

“Yes, room three,” she said, looking at Lola who had opened her long white coat to reveal the transparent blouse underneath it.  For a brief moment, Lola thought she had overplayed her hand.  The receptionist typed something into her computer and then looked up at Terence and Lo.  She said, “Ah yes, I see you have already entered the information about your service assistant.”

Lo tried to smile politely at the woman, but she felt as if “service assistant,” sounded too much like “service dog.”  But then Lo’s mind went to that kinky area (which is about 99% of her mind) and she began to think what it would be like to have a “service dog” to service her in the manner that she was about to service Terence.  Lo was already getting wet.  Or, wetter, I should say.

The receptionist passed a collection jar to Terence and also passed him an individual sized, complementary miniature tube of special lube that would not contaminate the collection sample.

“Do you need instructions?” she asked as she handed the lube to Terence.

“No, I’ve been here before.”

The receptionist gave him a knowing look and then went back to her typing.

Terence casually led Lo down the white, sterile hallway and to room three.  All along the hall were posters of Roy Stuart’s photos.  Terence opened the door and let Lo in like a gentleman.  In the little white room was a sink, a small white shelf next to it, a comfortable chair, a small TV screen with a CD player, some porno mags under the TV and more framed Roy Stuart posters on the walls.  Lo also noticed a large, coffee table book by one of her favorite photographers, Sabrina Dacos.

Roy Stuart Photography

Roy Stuart “Glimpse”

Sabrina Dacos Selfie

Sabrina Dacos tits and shaved snatch

Lo looked around, taking it all in.  She was even more excited now as she imagined all the men who had been in this room and what they were doing there.  Sex, in all its permutations and manifestations, holds a perpetual allure for Lo.

One thing that Lo’s keen observation of the room and its objects didn’t see was a coat rack for her white overcoat.

“You sit down.  Get comfortable,” she said to Terence.  “I’m going to find a place to hang up my coat.”

She turned back around and went out to the receptionist.

“Excuse me,” she said as politely as she could, “but is there a place for me to hang my coat?”

The receptionist pointed her down a different hallway.  “Just to your left,” she said.

Lo walked down that hallway and, to her surprise, she saw framed posters lining it with images by David Hamilton.

David Hamilton’s Laura

Art by David Hamilton

She saw a line of coat hangers along the far wall and she hung up her coat.  Walking back towards the receptionist – the building was shaped like an ‘L,’ with the receptionist at the intersection of the two perpendicular wings – she said, “I didn’t know you had a children’s section.”

The receptionist looked up, blank-faced.  She saw Lo’s prominent breasts, nearly naked, just under the loose-fitting sheer black blouse.  She merely opened her mouth, making a little pout with her lips.  Lo wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she took it as a compliment and walked past her proudly.

Lo breezed by a single man in the hallway who was also on his way to a different room.  Lo made clear and unambiguous eye contact with him.  However, his eyes quickly looked down and settled on Lo’s tits.  Lo could understand the allure to both working there and going there as an exhibitionist like Terence.  There was something exciting and stimulating for Lo knowing that the man she passed in the hall was either about to go jack off or had just finished.  And it excited her for him to know that she was roaming the hallway in search of stimulating some eager altruist ready to selflessly give his essence to some needy couple.  Lo walked briskly, keenly anticipating her part to play with Terence.

Terence was now sitting in the chair.  Lo looked at him.  He smiled at the sight of her in the blouse.  Lo had expected he would be naked, or at least pantless by this point, but he was just sitting there, clothed as he was when Lo went down the hall.  He also wore a wide grin on his face, staring at her tits and then her eyes and back to her tits.

“So,” said Lo, “how do you want to do this?”

“I guess, if you just unzip me, pull me out, lube me up, and I’ll take it from there,” he said.

Lo pulled out to sterile latex gloves from the box on the counter next to the Sabrina Dacos book.  She put them on and then unbuttoned Terence’s pants, unzipped the fly, pulled them down around his ankles.  He was already hard and bulging from under his tight white underwear.

Lo pulled down the underwear and his long, thick dick sprung out like a Jack-in-the-Box.  Lo marveled at its size, shape, and apparent eagerness to donate.

“You like?” he asked.

“MmmmHmmmm,” she moaned.  Her face was only inches away from the specimen and, had they been in another setting, she would have taken the meat in her mouth with relish.  But she could not do that, lest the donation become contaminated and useless.

“Anything in particular that will help you?”

“Can you get naked?”

“No,” said Lo, as if offended.  “This is not for pleasure.  This is a selfless act of generosity to both science and humanity.”

What a load of malarkey!  Did she actually believe that?  No.  It was part of the game.

“Then,” he said a bit disappointed, “can you at least stand close to me?”

In point of fact, she was actually standing right next to him.  He sat.  She leaned over and held his cock in her gloved hand.  She was bouncing it on her fingers to see just how rigid, weighty, and stiff it was.  Then she put a heaping dab of the lube in her palm.  She slowly applied the lube to his shaft, deliberately stroking up-and-down, base-to-tip, a few times before setting to work in earnest.  She began vigorously jerking him off.

“A little slower,” he requested politely.

She shifted into a lower gear.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Your tits.”

“Say more.”

“I want to suck them and lick them.  Those nipples under your blouse – God!  They look amazing.”

She leaned in a little further so that the apex of her breasts were mere centimeters from his lips.

“How long does it typically take you to cum?” she asked.

“I masturbate a lot,” he said.

“That’s ok.”

“So it takes me nearly the full half-hour.”

The rooms were assigned by half-hour increments, but the staff preferred if donors were faster so they had proper time to clean up and disinfect each room when done.

When he said this, Lola took it as a personal challenge.  How quickly could she get this compulsive masturbator to ejaculate?

“When’s the last time you came?” she asked.

“This morning.”

“What?!  I thought they only allow you to donate once every two weeks because if you did it more often it lowers the sperm count.”

“Yeah, that’s a dumb rule, isn’t it?” he said, looking at Lo, their eyes and mouths very close.  “I mean, they can’t monitor or control what happens at home.”

“What did you cum to this morning?” she asked.

“Thinking about you doing this.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And, in your imagination as you were at home in bed jacking off, what did you think would happen?”

“Can I tell you the truth?”

“Yes, please!”

“I was jacking off in bed next to my sleeping wife.”

“Your wife?!” asked Lo, still stroking up-and-down, “You’re married?”

“Yes.  You didn’t know that?” he said, looking directly at her now.

“No, I didn’t know anything about you except that you heard about me through Gina and Cam and what you’ve told me.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, not at all.  Why should I be?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe you think I’m a perverted, sleazy, creep.”

“Why would I think that?  Because you’re married and go to a sperm bank to get off and you masturbate in bed next to your sleeping wife?”

“Well, uh, yeah.  When you put it that way.”

“Don’t.  Everyone has their kinks, their quirks, their turn-ons and offs.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, I know that, but you don’t think bad of me because of it?”

“Of course not.  In fact, it turns me on that you were jerking off next to her.”

“It does?”

“Yes,” she said, adding pressure to her grip and speed to her stroke.  “It will turn me on more if you told me what you were thinking about as you did it.”  She brought it back to this because he was losing his hard-on with all the conversation.

“I was thinking that you’d get naked and let me feel your body, maybe let me suck your tits, and. . .”

“Now, now,” said Lo, putting a damper on his hopes, “that would be against the rules.”

In point of fact, there were no rules other than not contaminating the sample by coaxing it out either orally or vaginally.  But no rules were in force to stop Lola from getting naked.  She just liked enforcing arbitrary rules.

“Too bad,” he said.

“What do you think of that?” asked Lo, indicating the Roy Stuart poster in front of them.

Terence glanced up at the brunette in the frame and then looked deep into Lola’s eyes and simply said, “I wish it was you.”

That little comment put an idea in Lo’s head and she felt herself gushing from the thought of it.

She started moaning as if she were the one receiving the erotic massage and the auditory stimulation really got Terence going.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You like stroking me?”

“Mmmmm, so much.”

“You want to see me cum?”

She just bit down on her lower lip and this was enough to bring Terence to the brink.

“Quick!  The specimen jar!”

Lo grabbed it as Terence took matters in his own hands and aimed right at the small target.  Out came loads and loads of cum – more than Lo had ever seen before in one orgasm.  If she was gushing just a moment ago, now she was a full-on leaky labiator.

“FUUUUUUCK!” cried out Terence, certainly loud enough for the receptionist to hear.

“That’s a boy,” encouraged Lo, dropping to her knees as if wanting desperately to be the receptacle for his deposit, as if worshiping his cock and potency, as if weak in her knees from the visual excitement.

When he was done, he cleaned up the bit he spilled or dribbled down his leg and then he pulled up his pants, zipped up, tucked in his shirt, and made himself generally presentable.

Lo and Terence emerged from room #3 and walked to the reception desk.  Terence dropped off the collection container and the receptionist looked up without any expression on her face.

“All set,” said Terence.

“All set,” the receptionist replied with a polite smile.

Lo was holding Terence’s hand as if she was his girlfriend.  She returned the polite smile to the receptionist and the two of them walked out into the freezing cold.  Lo’s nipples became like diamond cutters immediately and she squeezed Terence’s hand and said, “You go on home.  I forgot my coat!”  She gave him a loving kiss, open-mouthed, and squeezed his hand before turning around and going back into the clinic.

Terence waited a bit in the parking lot, but when Lo didn’t come back out for a while, he figured he’d better drive away before he looked like he was stalking her, or someone else at the clinic.  After all, his car was on, the windows were fogging up, and it was clear from the exhaust that he was just idling in the parking lot outside the front doors of the sperm donation site.

Send Lo your cumtribute.

Forget Lois, Fuck Me!

“Lola, where’d you find that getup?”

“The costume store.”

“You know, Halloween isn’t for another three months.”

“Oh, I know.”

“So why are you getting all dressed up?  Going to a cosplay convention?”

“Something like that.”

“Care to share?”

“I have a date.”

“With whom, Superman?”

“Exactly!”

“Come on.”

“I hope he does! – on me!”

“Will you please tell me what this is all about?”

“I have a date with a super hunky guy who, as it happens, is into cosplay.  He wants to dress up as Superman and wants me to be his Wonder Woman.”

“Where did you meet this man of steel?”

“Online.”

“Have you met in person before?”

“No, never.”

“You’ll be careful?”

“Always.  I’m Wonder Woman.  I’m also his Kryptonite.”

“How’s that?”

“Let’s just say that I haven’t met a man yet whose steel doesn’t go soft after I’m through with him.”

Pachu M. Torres

Sex & Death

“We have so little faith in the ebb and flow of life, of love, of relationships. We leap at the flow of the tide and resist in terror its ebb. We are afraid it will never return. We insist on permanency, on duration, on continuity; when the only continuity possible, in life as in love, is in growth, in fluidity – in freedom, in the sense that the dancers are free, barely touching as they pass, but partners in the same pattern.”

                                                       Anne Morrow Lindbergh – Gift From the Sea

            For a few months now, Lola and I have been like the dancers upon a large stage – not like the partners doing a sexy Spanish tango, but like performers of some contemporary choreography who move at a great distance from each other, yet always aware of the presence of the other.  Her work has demanded long hours and travel around the country.  My work has kept me at the office on weekends.  We have seen each other only occasionally – hastily preparing and eating dinner, a ride to and from work, a quick fuck before sleep. 

            Realizing the monotonous irregularity of our relationship, we consciously made an effort to set aside a weekend for a “love-in”: two days of nothing but lying in bed together, rediscovering each other’s bodies, reading naked next to one another, watching movies, and preparing luxurious meals – all in the comfort of our own home.  Laundry can wait.  Work can wait.  Life can be put on hold. 

            But fate had something else in store for us.  On the Friday that was to kick off our cocoon habitation, Lo got word of the unexpected death of her friend Cammy’s husband’s aunt.  When Lo relayed this to me, at first I thought, “So?”  I didn’t expect that such a tangential relation would in any way impinge upon our reunion weekend.  But, it turns out, Cammy is very anxious about death and dying, is prone to panic attacks, and since her new husband would be needed at the memorial and funeral services, Cammy pleaded with Lo to come along for moral support.  Lo graciously agreed.

            “It’s only for Saturday,” said Lo.

            “That’s fifty percent of our love-in.”

            “I’ll make it up to you,” she said, seductively.  “Promise.”

            “Can’t Cammy handle this herself?”

            “No, she can’t.  Besides, I already said I’d go with her.” 

            I was in a foul mood.  I grunted something incomprehensible, but clearly expressed my displeasure.

            “I’ll be back tomorrow night and we still have tonight.”

            It was no use.  My mood was spoiled.  Lo said to me that I was spoiled, and, in retrospect, she was right. 

            Friday we went to bed and I rolled away from Lo as she lay there naked next to me in the dark.  “Daddio, you realize don’t you that you could have me now.”

            Grunt.

            “Do you realize how many men would pay – would die – to have a naked nympho next to them in bed, wet, waiting, and willing to fuck?!  Do you?  You big grouch.  Come here.  Put your face in my cleavage, suck my tits, grab my ass and fuck me,” she said, pulling on my arm. 

            “No,” I said like a child.  “I don’t want a quick fuck and then sleep.  I want to have you all weekend, all to myself.” 

            She didn’t respond.  She just reached over and grabbed my cock and began to rub it under the blankets. 

            “I can feel you getting hard.  I know you want to have me.”  She was right.

            After some manipulation, I rolled over to her.  I got on top of her, spread her legs and entered her. 

            “That’s it, Daddio.  Have me.  Use me.  Use me like so many guys have used me.  Fuck me.  Get your rocks off on me.”

            She continued to encourage me like that.  Though her voice was soft and breathy, I could tell she wasn’t getting off herself.  Her breath wasn’t becoming short and rapid.  Her hips weren’t moving to meet mine.  She wasn’t using her body to help herself climax.  But she kept talking to me and the sound of her sexy voice was enough to stir me to a swift conclusion. 

            “Yes.  Cum on me.  Cum on my face.  Cum on my tits,” she said without cumming herself. 

            When I was done, I said, “You didn’t like it.”

            “No, Daddio.  I did.”

            “Then why didn’t you cum too?”

            “Because, I just wanted you to use me.  Sometimes I like to do that.”

            “You like to fuck.  You like to orgasm.  You like to do it all again.  I know what you like.”

            “Sometimes I just want to be your fuck-toy that you use to get your rocks off.  It was so hot seeing you cum on my face.”

            As odd as it sounds, when Lo doesn’t cum, even if I do, it leaves me feeling like our romp was anticlimactic.  I went to sleep feeling worse than I did before. 

            Saturday came and Lo got decked out in her little black dress and black leather boots. 

            “Do I look ok for a funeral?”

            “You look like the stereotypical mistress who follows a funeral.”

            “What?!”

            “Lo, your skirt doesn’t even cover your knees and that top really makes your chest. . . er. . . prominent.” 

Look Daddy, No Panties!

            “You think so?” she said, perking up.

            “Yeah.”

            “Shucks, you know how to compliment a lady.”

            “Good grief!”

            “Wish me luck,” she said as she gave me a peck on the cheek.

            “Luck?” I asked, surprised. 

            “Or, whatever one wishes when one goes to a funeral.”

            Off she went and I went to the office, thinking that she’d be rather late returning. 

            Half past three, and I before I even had a chance to go to lunch, I got a text from Lo – “I’m home.  Where are you?”

            I closed up shop and sped home to see her.  When I got in, there she was, greeting me at the door. 

            “Oh, hello,” I said, seeing her still in her mourner’s basic black.

            “Hello ole’ man.”

            “How was your, er, funeral?”

            “My funeral.”

            “I mean, the funeral you. . .”

            “It was fine.”

            “Fine?”

            “Well, better than fine – for a funeral.”

            “What do you mean by that?”

            “Come to the bedroom and I’ll tell you.”

            When I got to the bedroom, she had already hopped on the bed and lifted her skirt up over her waist, showing her bare ass.

            “Lo!” I said, taken aback, “You didn’t wear panties to a funeral in December?!”

            “How else is a girl supposed to amuse herself at a funeral?”

            “Seriously?”

            “Don’t you like?” she asked, wagging her ass in the air.

            “Um.”

            “Well, I can tell you, there were boys at the funeral who were very happy to see me.”

            “What are you talking about?”

            “Get yourself out of those pants and I’ll explain.”

            I dropped my trousers immediately and pulled up behind her.

            “That’s it, old man.  Pound it.  Drive it home.”

            “Lo, why are you so randy today?”

            “When am I not?” she retorted, followed by a moan.

            “What got into you at that funeral?”

            “You should be asking who got into me.”

            “Lo, you didn’t.”

            “I’m sorry, Daddy, but I was like the song.”

            “The song?”

            “You know: ‘I gotta stay high all the time to keep you off my mind.’  Bad habits, you know.”

            “They say bad habits never die.”

            “Ha,” she laughed, “It wasn’t a funeral for my habits, that’s for sure.”

            “What did you do?”

            “Remember the wedding we went to?”

            “Which one?”

            “The one where we got it on in the powder-room.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, that’s what I did, but at a funeral.  Same difference.”

            “But, I wasn’t there.”

            “I had no idea you were so fond of funerals.”

            “I had no idea you were so irreverent.”

            “Irreverent?  Don’t you think that it’s very respectful of the dead to enjoy life?”

            “Not that way!”

            “Sex is the emblem of life and orgasm its crowning achievement.”

            “The French call orgasm le petit mort – the little death.”

            “Well, then I died many times at that funeral!  Slay me once more.”

            “Lola!”

            “Do you like fucking me knowing that two other guys were in me earlier today?”

            I went at her with great vigor and she came as she talked dirty to me about it.  After she did, I pushed her body flat on the bed and ejaculated all over her back. 

            “Fuck!” she yelled out, “My dress!”

            Her mourner’s gown was now my cum rag.  I fell down next to her on the bed.  Between deep gasps, I said, “That’s how you should greet me every time I come home.”

“Even from work?”

“Especially from work?”

“Even when you just go out to the bar?”

“Yes, when I go out to the bar.  When I go out to do grocery shopping.  When I take out the trash.  When I enter through that door you should greet me just like that.”

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Orgasms


The Red Dress

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

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

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

            “I’m so disgusted!” Lo began.

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

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

            “What happened?” asked John. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “You used to watch it?” I asked.

            “On occasion.”

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

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

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

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

            “What?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

            “No panties?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

            “That you are.”

            “Well, what are you waiting for?”

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

            “Like what?”

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

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

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

            “Yes.”

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

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

            “Ugh.” 

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

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

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

            “I think your breasts look pretty and perky.”

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

            “And your shoulders are incredibly strong and sexy.”

            “More.”

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

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

            “That I do!”

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

            As I began to penetrate her, she moaned aloud. 

            “Lo, shhhh.  We have guests.”

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

            “Right.  Now Shhhh.”

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

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  Now let me do the work.” 

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

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

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

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

            “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love your weird questions.”

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

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

“Yeah, besides all that.”

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            I kept on keeping on in her. 

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

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

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

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

            “Don’t you know by now?”

            “No.”

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

            “Oh, I know all right.”

            “You do?”

            “Yes.  You always need it.”

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

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

Waiting for a Lyft

            “How do I look?” she asked, doing a little twirl on the toes of her shiny black boots. 

            “Just Peachy,” I said.

            “Peachy?”

            “Yeah.”

            “You’re so old,” she replied.  “Do you like the lipstick?  Too much?” she asked as she puckered up.

            “Depends.  What do you plan on doing with it?”

            “Hopefully something naughty,” she said as her tongue ran over her pearly whites.

            Lo was all decked out for a date she had with a new gentleman caller.  About a half hour earlier she had emerged out of her steamy shower, silky smooth down below.  She showed me saying, “Hopefully he’ll appreciate this.”

            “You are eager for him to get up your skirt,” I said, nonchalantly, though I was upset that she wasn’t offering it to me.

            “So eager that I’m not going to wear panties.”

            “Why don’t you shave for me?  Only when you’re going on dates?”

            She walked up to me and made a pouty face, and teased, “Oh, is my ole man jealous?”

            “No,” I said, “Not jealous.  But I appreciate a slick, wet, whistle just as much as the next guy.”

            “I know,” she said condescendingly.  “But don’t you like my muff too?”

            “Lo, I like all of you in every way,” I said, “But maybe you could just keep the mons pubis polished all the time, especially for when I go down on you.”

            “But Daddy, it’s winter.  I might catch a chill.”

            “Wear a merkin.  I hear they’re coming back in style.”

            “Funny.”

            “I’m serious.  I read an article about it.  It was all the rage for Fashion Week in New York.”

            “Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said dismissively. 

            “You don’t seem to be too worried about catching a chill today,” I observed.

            “I plan to have his warm mouth on my va-jay-jay soon enough,” she retorted. 

            “Are you just trying to tease me?” I asked, adding, “Cause you could have my mouth on it right now.”

            She was applying moisturizer to her tits, tum, and mellifluous legs and puss.  “Will you get my back?” she asked, applying some lotion to my palm and turning around.

            I began to rub it into her shoulders and then down her back.  She bent over, exposing her rear.  “Get it in good there, cause I want to be silky sweet for him when he has his face where your hands are now.”  I was circling my middle finger around her anus and she was moaning. 

            After a little while of that, she got on the bed, lying on her back, her legs up.  I thought for sure this was my invitation.  But no!  Instead she said, “Don’t forget my toes.  Get right in there.” 

            I applied the lotion to her heel, her arches, her toes and between her toes, one foot at a time.  She was almost climaxing from the sensation.  I was hard as a rock in my slacks and protruding noticeable.  I could see her pussy glistening. 

            “Do you plan on giving him a foot-job as well?”

            “I plan on giving him whatever he wants.”

            “Lo, why are you torturing me so much?  I’ll just pull out my cock and you can give me a foot-job.  Think of it as warm-ups or practice,” I said as I unzipped my pants.

            “I’m already hot.  I don’t need warm-ups.  And are you saying I need practice?”

            “Practice makes perfect.”

            “I am purrrrrfect,” she said, “or at least so I’m told.”

            She got off the bed and began rummaging through her wardrobe.

            “Out!” she commanded.  “You’ll see when I’m done.”

            I left the room and then, a while later, she appeared in the living room asking me how she looked.  I was starving for a taste of her.  When I said, “Just peachy,” I was thinking about eating her peach, which now was more like a nectarine. 

            She lifted the hem of her short skirt to show me her bare nectarine.  Then she bent over to pick up her purse and pull out her phone. 

            “Lo, the whole world can see how nicely you prepared yourself when you do that move.”

            “That’s what I was going for.”

            I rolled my eyes.

            “You won’t miss me too much?” she asked.

            “Lo, I’m going to tell you the truth.  As soon as you shut that door, permission or no permission, I’m going to pull out my Fleshlight and cum so hard into Stoya’s pussy.”

            “NO!” she exclaimed.  Horror of horrors.

            “But, I’m so worked up right now.  I can think of nothing else.”

            “I’ll tell you what,” she said, “I just ordered my Lyft.  It will be here in exactly four minutes.  Go get a condom.” 

            I ran to get a condom from the bedroom and appeared back in the living room, eager to fuck her, but I had another thing coming. 

            “Put it on,” she said, looking at her phone. 

            I obeyed. 

            And then, instead of bending over the couch and letting me enter her, she grabbed my covered cock with her right hand and began jacking it. 

            “What?” I asked perplexed. 

            “I’ll jack you off.  You have about two minutes,” she said, not even looking at me. 

            “Why won’t you let me fuck you?”

            “Because, I’m pretty as a picture right now.  I don’t want to risk messing up my outfit.”

            “Really?”

            “A minute and a half.  Do you want to be hard-up all night?”

            “OK, ok,” I said, letting her tug, “but why the condom?”

            “No mess,” she said, her hand moving mechanically.  “Speaking of pictures. . .” she said as she manipulated her phone with her other hand.  She raised up her arm and smiled at the camera as she shot a selfie without me in the frame.  No one would even suspect she was giving me a hand-job as she flashed her smile at them.  She sent the pic to her date with a message, “Coming.”

            She looked again at her ride app and saw the car turn onto our street.  She got closer to me and ever-so-gently licked my earlobe with her tongue as she increased her wrist motion.  “That’s it Daddio, think about how he is going to lick my clit later.  Think about how he’s going to cum all over my puss and make my skirt all dirty with his hot mess.  I’m your little trollop, your little. . .”

            She stopped mid-sentence.  The Lyft was outside our window.  I came into the condom.  She let go.  I grabbed my cock and stroked it as I watched her through the window getting into the car and blowing me an air kiss. 

            She is truly devilish. 

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