“You are beautiful. Your eyes are beautiful. Your mouth is beautiful. Your breasts are beautiful. Your cunt is beautiful.”
I was reading a message Lo received on her phone from an admirer of the blog.
“A regular Shakespeare, that one,” I said.
“I think it’s sweet,” she responded, as her left hand began to fondle her pussy lips under the covers.
“Sweet?! He left out your hair, your nose, your neck, your shoulders, your tum, your ass, your legs, your feet, and your toes!”
“I’m sure he was going to get there,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Can I get there?” I asked, sounding a bit desperate for affection, or her attention.
“Get where?” she asked, playing with me.
“Anywhere. Between your legs, ideally.”
“Let’s see where this goes,” she said about her internet friend, unfortunately, and not about my bid for her caress.
“I know where this goes,” I said, putting her hand on my hard rod. I was hard because her internet friend had sent a slew of photos of himself jacking off to her pics and cumming all over them. She looked good in the sexy photos.
“Daddy,” she said, protesting, “I’m busy trying to please my loyal fans.”
“I don’t mind, as long as you do it while spreading your legs.”
“I’m spreading the love.”
“Can you spread the love wide enough for me to get in on it?”
“Your pussy looks pretty and gorgeous,” wrote another fan.
“It is pretty, gorgeous, wet and waiting to be filled,” she wrote back.
“Me, me!” I said, “Pick me.”
“Calm down, Daddio,” she said, full of vanity fed by her fans’ flattery.
“Tell me more about you,” wrote another internet correspondent.
“Read the books,” typed Lo, “There’s too much to tell and too many people to tell it to.”
“You’re hard, girl,” responded the inquirer.
“Funny, everyone tells me I’m easy,” quipped Lo, “and that makes them hard.”
“I love your stories,” wrote one female fan.
“H.H. writes. I inspire,” wrote Lo to her.
“Do you inspire with your body?”
“And my wit.”
“I’m inspired right now!” I said to Lo as I grabbed my cock firmly. “They all are cumming to you. Can I cum to you?”
“Cum to, on, in, with, over, under, around, beside – I provide the pussy. You pick the preposition,” she said, dismissively.
I got up on my knees and stood over her, jacking my cock.
“Just don’t cum on my phone,” she said as she continued to scroll through her contacts.
She continued to fondle herself beneath me for a while before she said, “Daddio, lie down next to me. I’ll help you.”
I lay down and she grabbed me by my shaft. “I’m your righthand man,” I said as she jacked me off with her right and scrolled with her left.
“My wife is nothing like you,” wrote one desperate, sad husband.
“You two should read our blog together. It would open up her mind. . . and pussy.”
“I could never suggest it,” he wrote, “she’d freak!”
“But you like it?” asked Lo.
“God yes,” he sighed through the medium of type.
“Tell me what a young, sexy, slutty person such as myself does for you.”
“I’d love to eat your yummy, sloppy, used, cum-filled holes,” he wrote.
“Another bard!” I opined sarcastically.
“Shut up and cum,” commanded Lo as she tugged more aggressively.
“Are you in a rush?” I asked.
“Both hands are full,” she said, “leaving nothing for my snatch.”
“I’ll happily fill that gap.”
“You stay right where you are,” she ordered.
“Has she ever caught you jacking off?” wrote Lo to her married man.
“No. It would be a big deal if she did. It would be an even bigger deal if she caught me jacking off to you and not to porn.”
“I am porn,” protested Lo.
“I mean, it’s one thing to get off to anonymous, vacuous, impersonal, professionally produced porn and it’s quite another thing to get off to you.”
“That’s more like it,” responded Lo.
“That’s it, I’m getting up and out of bed,” I said.
“But nooooo.”
“Yes. You’re just treating my cock like it a joystick to your favorite video game.”
“A game I always win.”
She continued stroking.
“Are you into length or girth?” asked her internet interloper.
“I’m into cock. And cock gets into me.”
“Once again, I must protest!” I said. “You’ve got a very capable, compatible, and coveted cock right here, but you’re not letting it into you!”
“What, ole man, my right hand isn’t enough for you?”
“Not when you’re teasing those guys about how fast and loose you like to play.”
A new fan chimed in, “I have to stop sinning. I’m religious, that’s why I can’t go on doing this.”
“Sex is spiritual. And I’m a sex goddess. Worship at my alter,” replied Lo.
“Now you’re offering theology lessons?” I chided.
“No. Just encouraging them to be good semenarians.”
“That was terrible. Low hanging fruit,” I replied.
She cupped my testicles and said, “Very low hanging.”
“Oh, does your wit never cease?!”
Now she squeezed my balls to show me that I had better be careful about mocking her.
Another woman asked Lo if she liked taboo tales. To which Lo responded, “How taboo are we talking here?”
The woman said she was into watersports and bestiality.
Lo wrote back, “Let’s knot.”
“Don’t you mean. . . oooooh, I get it,” I said.
“Woof!” she said to me.
The woman, whose name was Mila Beijne., went on to tell a little story.
I was a model a few years back and after doing a shoot I was talking a bit with the photographer, the lighting guy and his assistant. They invited me to their home. I trusted them and liked them. We were all horny and I was willing, I admit. At the photographer’s home we had some drinks and then they slowly undressed me. They got naked too. They were all good looking men and one was really hung. They kissed me everywhere and started fucking me in my mouth, pussy, and ass. I was very horny. After quite a long time, they changed positions, each taking a different hole. Then they rotated again and fucked me a long time again till I was exhausted. They filled me up in every place they could. But the fun was not over yet. One put me on the floor and the other started urinating over me. Then the other two joined in. It was a lot and all over my body and in my long hair. There was no shower, so it was a special experience driving home. It was my first time doing that and I liked how the act showed their dominance over me.
I could see Lo getting increasingly more excited as she read the short little story from Mila. She quickly wrote back, “Yeah, HH does that to me. I love it. Being below him, feeling his warm stream flow over my back and butt.”
“We haven’t done that in a while,” I reminded her.
She ignored me because another fan had written to her. This guy was old. I mean, like twenty years older than I and I’m in my 50’s! His name was Bob and he wrote:
Hi Lola, and thank you!
You are an inspiration to me. I
hope you can give me some advice.
I’m in my 70’s and I’ve been in a relationship for over 25 years. No passion or sex for the last 20 years. I’m at a loss as it has become impossible to
talk about it with her. I’ve made the
mistake of combining our lives and living situations this whole time. It has become all about her for the last
several years. I feel I’m too old to
begin another relationship with a woman, yet I still admire all women and all
that I see on your blog. I’ve even
become curious about men as I feel that may be the only way to explore my
unresolved sexual fantasies. Yet I’m
still conflicted as I long for an intimate relationship that I’ve missed in my
life.
Do you have any suggestions??
Lola wrote back, “To tell you the truth, Bob, I’m just good wanking material, but I’m not a sex coach or a sex therapist. You might want to check out one of these trained professionals to get some expert advice on having more sex with spirit.” She provided a link. Then she added, “But if you’re looking for a real hotwife, cum to me.”
“What?!” I said to her, shocked that she’d even offer that to him.
She ignored me and typed, “I have a very soft spot for old married men whose wives no longer have sex with them. Would you like to see it?”
Of course he said yes. Lo sent him a naughty pic of the place between her legs that she was denying to me.
“Lo, that’s just cruel!” I said.
“What? Soon you’re going to be that old and you’d want the same from me. Wouldn’t you?”
“What’s cruel is that I’m that old man who is being denied right now!”
“If what I’m giving you isn’t good enough, then take matters into your own hands,” she said.
As she said it, another married man was singing her praises in a message that read, “I’ve come to worship your holy holes.”
“See,” she said, “I’ve got fans who know how to woo me.”
“Woo you? They worship you!”
“What’s the difference?”
After some flirtatious back-and-forth, Lo asked to see a pic of the man’s wife.
He asked why she wanted to see that and Lo responded, “I like to see who I’m beating out when guys are beating off to me.”
The guy sent a photo. His wife was beautiful. But apparently she lacked the ‘personality’ of Lo. He wanted to know more about Lo and he asked her questions.
“I’m like an open book, there for anyone to read,” she responded, “You just have to know where to find me. Are you familiar with the Dewey Decimal system?”
“Like, in the library?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I can find you in my local library?”
“If only,” wrote Lo, “I’m indexed under XXX.”
“As in 30?” he wrote with a winkface emoji. “Still pretty young.”
“Pretty, young, and slutty. I’ll tell you what, you can virtually finger my folios at: mysexlifewithlola.com,” she said, “and you can also buy the books there. I suggest you get a few copies of each and donate the extras to your local library so everyone can spread my centerfold for free.”
As Lo was typing, she guided my cock to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the tip. She looked up at me as her hand continued to glide back and forth from the base to her mouth. I began to cum and she hungrily held me in place so as not to spill a drop. I was so worked up that I couldn’t control my convulsions. I began breathing deep, heavy breaths. Lo looked up at me and said, “What?! Are you having a stroke?”
When I finally managed to catch my breath, I looked down at her and said, “Yeah, I’m having a stroke. A really good stroke.”
Lo wrote a final line to her fans: “Good night all you kinky sexy rogues. Dream of me in your debauched nocturnal thoughts.”
She put her phone down, grabbed her Hitachi, lay back, shut her eyes, and began vibrating until she was the one violently convulsing, squirting, and gasping for air.
When she was done and had removed the Magic Wand from between her legs, she grabbed my hand and placed it on her bare pussy for me to feel how wet she was. She’s proud that she can turn on the tap almost at will.
“Pull my pussy lips, Daddy,” she said. I stretched them. “Harder.” I pulled more. “Harder Daddy,” she complained.
“Lo, if I pull them any further they’ll be down to your knees.”
“Try it,” she said. She likes the pain or pleasure.
As I pulled I asked her, “What were you thinking about when you came?”
“I think about you.”
This line from her was as false as Marlow telling Kurtz’s betrothed that Kurtz’s last words were her name.
“OK, that’s enough of that,” I said, calling bullshit. “What did you really think about?”
“I think about you,” she said. “And I think about cock. I think about a lot of cock.”
“That’s it?”
“And pussy.”
I gave up there knowing that the
litany of licentious thoughts could go on endlessly. I sat silently and she mistook my silence for
judgment.
“You don’t know
what it’s like to be me!” she blurted out defensively.
“Oh yeah, you’ve got it so hard,” I said sarcastically.
“I wish,” she said even more sarcastically as she lifted up my flaccid member in her hand.
“You know,” I said, “your porn persona and your personality are not consistent.”
“What are you talking about?”
“All those people out there thinking you’re a nymphomaniac, thinking that I am so inundated with your pussy that I barely can find a moment’s peace, yet the reality is that you denied me just now.”
“There’s no inconsistency.”
“How not?”
“Because I know you’re going to write about this and so it will be part of my porn persona.”
