Category Archives: literotica

Match, Cinder & Spark, Vol. II – MORE! Now on Audiobook

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To all of you who downloaded Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl and loved it, thank you!!!!

Cover of the Audio Book with chapters

It was, and continues to be, a big success, especially since the hard-copy book is so damn expensive. (We make almost nothing off the sale of that book because it was our first and we didn’t know that so many pages and glossy full-color images would have such a high base price.  We’re smarter now.)

Well, BIG NEWS, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume II: MORE! is out now on audio, narrated by the sexy and seductive Jupiter Grant!

Here’s a selection from the story, “H.H., You Slut!”

:

Every narrator is an unreliable narrator.  No.  Scratch that.  A narrator can be reliable, but should not be identified with the author.  The author is unreliable.  Trust me.

Melville had his Ishmael.  Ishmael had his Captain Ahab and Ahab had his Moby Dick.  I have H.H.  H.H. has the monomaniacal Lo and Lo has her dick.  Yes, I just compared this to the greatest novel of the American canon.

Nick Carraway had his Gatsby and Gatsby had his Daisy.  I have my Lo and Lo has her ladies.

Never since Melville discoursed on white has there been a passage in the English language that expounds in such poetically puissant tones the multivalent meanings of a color until Fitzgerald’s passage on Gatsby’s green light.

Nabokov had his Humbert Humbert.  Humbert Humbert had his Lolita and Lolita had her Humbert Humbert.  I have my H.H. and H.H. has his Lo and Lo has herself.

What Lo is to Lo has been hinted; what, at times, Lo is to me has remained yet unsaid.

All the horror and evil of the White Whale was conveyed in its whiteness.  All the goodness, promise, and fertility of Daisy beamed across the sound from the green beacon upon which Gatsby doted night after night.

All the pent-up heat, heartbeat, and seductive sweets of Lo are expressed in one color as well: red.  The red of her lips parted with a red tongue tip touching the white of her teeth tell the tale of love and lust, longing and life lived fully.  A lush life filled with libidinous conquests.  The red of her areolae upon her perky breasts, pinched and almost panting for attention and pleasure, pulled and protruding like little buoys beckoning to the passing sailors as they lift and heave upon the bosom of the undulating sea.  The glossy red of her pained fingernails pulling at her red nipples, licked by her red tongue, lightly separating her red labia.  Her pink pussy lips parted and revealing the lush red lining of her luscious labia minora.  The fire engine red of her pedicured toes curling with tense expectation of love’s consummation.  Lying there on the sheen of her red satin sheets, in her sheer red silk negligée, swaddled in the sea of red blankets, she brings herself to a shrieking climax.  Like a siren singing from the darkness, her voice reverberates with pleasure up and down the octaves as her convulsing body rhythmically dances to the command of her virtuosic finger on her clit.

Red, the symbol of the forbidden district.  Red, the enticing sign of danger and vitality.  Red, the fruit’s color of poison and fertility.  Red, the color of flame.  Red, the color of caution and calling.  Red is the apple tossed to Paris.  Red is the sea – wet and parted to receive the host.  Red is the sky in the night and morn.  Red is the blood when the finger is pricked by the red rose’s thorn.  Red is my Lo’s mind filled with diabolical thoughts.  Red is the devil whose brimming brow spouts thorns.  Red is life when it is born.  Red is the cheek when it is warm.  Red is my heart when for Lo it longs.  Red are all things forbidden – from knowledge’s treats to vulgar porn.  Red is the color of this song.

Lo, look at how you entrance me!  How you bewitch me!  How you have me in your spell!  I have gone mad!  I write my book of love and inscribe each page with your refulgent image.  I sing your praises to Heaven’s foundations that the angels might find respite from their constant bliss and repent their having not been remiss.

 

Quick Anal Hookups

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Quick Anal Hookups

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Alliterative Agony.”]

The next morning, Sunday, Lo was very slow to wake up.  I, like clockwork, was up with the sunrise at around 5:30.  Very gently and stealthily, I extricated myself from her naked embrace and found some clothes to slip into before sneaking out of the room in search of coffee.  Lo is my drug of choice, but caffeine is my drug of necessity.  Without it first thing in the morning, I develop a terrible headache, become susceptible to intrusive thoughts, and can be very unpleasant company.

In those newly minted minutes of the morning, the sun from yonder horizon streamed into the various windows of the “cottage,” designed perfectly to catch that brisk, new day aura.  I was glad to have my alone time and, even better, I had discovered Collin’s very fancy, very expensive Italian espresso, cappuccino, and coffee brewing machine.

I made myself a steaming mug and went outside to take in the fresh air comingled with the aroma of the rich, calming coffee.  A deep breath in and a long exhale out.  For a moment, all the drama of the previous night seemed as unreal as a dream.  I looked out over the light shimmering on the waves of the lake and felt as if everything was reborn that morning.

Just as I was taking it all in, feeling good about myself and my choice to join Lo and company up in this retreat, I heard the sliding door behind me open and, as I looked, there I saw Lilly, barefoot, in her panties and a tank-top, no bra, slip outside with me.  She too was holding a mug of hot coffee.

“Can I join you?”

“Sure,” I said, concealing the pang of resentment I always feel when my morning solitude is interrupted, no matter by whom.

Lilly stood next to me and, for a brief moment, we both enjoyed the near silence of the breeze blowing the leaves, the birds singing their praise to the day, and the dance of the sun’s rays on the little waves.  I could see her erect nipples reacting to the mountain morning air.

She broke the spell of the meditative moment by turning toward me and saying, “I don’t know what you’ve heard from Lola, but I want you to know that I never meant any harm.”

I had heard only small fragments at that point since my communication with Lo was so infrequent due to all the entertainment Collin was providing for her and Lilly.

“I don’t know much,” I said, but you can be sure that I was curious to know more.  And, not only that, I wanted to hear it from Lilly’s lips so that I could later, in bed, compare it with Lo’s version.  “Why don’t you tell me what I’ve missed.”

We sat on the lounge chairs and Lilly began from the beginning.

She recounted for me how Uncle Collin had always been for her almost a mythical figure.  He was bold, daring, full of stories of his adventures, wealthy and generous, lavishing gifts on her and her family.  Ever since she could remember, she adored him and looked at him with stars in her eyes.

She, so far as she could tell, was his favorite niece and he and Suzanne, having no children of their own, treated her as if she was his own daughter.  He took her on vacations to France and Algeria, Italy and Spain.  He spoiled her.  He indulged her every whim with an amused satisfaction at the simplicity of her pleasures.

Just around the time she hit adolescence, he had his equestrian accident.  She informed me about his injury and the damage it did to him.  As she spoke, tears welled up in her eyes.  After that, she recalled that Suzanne’s attitude toward her changed.  She was cold.  Aloof.  She attended fewer and fewer family gatherings.  She and Collin grew further and further apart.

She told me about going to Catholic school, wearing the school uniform and picking up on Uncle Collin’s subtle, yet perceptible interest in her girlfriends.  In an offhand way, she mentioned that it was around this time, her freshmen year in high school, that she discovered the “A.O.L. alternative,” as she put it.

I played dumb, as if Lo hadn’t mentioned it to me.  “A.O.L.?”

“Anal Only Lifestyle.”

“Is that a Catholic girl thing?”

“It was my thing.  And, I guess, a lot of the girls I knew.  But none of them took it as far or as frequently as I did.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but was curious to find out.  I guess I raised my eyebrows, expressing my interest and so she continued, “I was into quick anal hookup.”

“What’s that mean?” I ventured.  I knew from our previous private conversations that she enjoyed bragging and showing off her slutty side.  Maybe there was some competitiveness she felt with Lo, but I was confident I wouldn’t have to pry this information from her.

“You know, just the one-night-stand thing.  Or, later in high school, as my reputation spread, well. . .” she feigned being coy and blushing, “on a couple of occasions guys lined up outside in the backyard.  We lived in a modified ranch and my bedroom was on the ground floor.  I’d open the window, put my lubed butt out, and the guys would line up, one-by-one, for a chance at my ass.”

Sounded to me like her reputation wasn’t the only thing to spread.

“They wore condoms, I hope.”

She laughed.

“No?”

“We were in high school.  They had like zero sexual experience.  And. . .”

“And what?”

“I liked being filled up.”  As she said this, she rolled over on her tum and added, “Oh, the sun’s just high enough to tan.”  She clearly wanted me to look at her ass in those panties and imagine the backyard line-up.

She saw me eyeing her and said, “How did we get onto this topic?”

I had no idea at that point.  I was much more interested in how she managed with what little Jim had to offer her by way of anal penetration.  As I looked at her small ass in those even smaller panties, I thought that, despite her previous experience, it must not take much to fill her that way.

“Oh yeah, Uncle Collin’s accident,” she reminded me.

She then described how he appreciated having a house full of her friends, throwing house parties for them and, on occasion, spending the night with one or more of them.  “That’s how it started,” she said.  “It was all very innocent back then.  I just wanted to cheer him up when he was going through the throes of depression and was wheelchair bound.”

“So, you’re saying that. . .” I was beginning to comprehend.  She helped me.

“I knew Uncle Collin would love Lola.  And I already knew you wouldn’t mind.”

That last little afterthought upset me.  Maybe it was because normally I wouldn’t mind, but this time I did.  Maybe it was something else.

“So it was a setup?” I asked.

“I would call it a little match-making.”

I must have had a dumbfounded look on my face, because then Lilly sat up and began explaining, rapid-fire, the pieces of the story that I also didn’t know: Uncle Collin’s erectile dysfunction; Suzanne’s sexual frustration; Lo’s resorting to masturbation to relieve her own pent-up desire for Collin.  Much of what she had to say resolved some questions, but raised multiple more questions for me.

“How did you know that Collin was impotent?” I asked, picking a question at random from the array of choices in my mind.

“Let’s just say that I have my ways.”

I wondered what that meant, but didn’t dare ask.  Nor did I need to.  She willingly, almost eagerly told me all about the vacations in France, the nude beaches, the multiple attempts she made to get a rise out of her Uncle.  His eventual confession when they were alone and sharing an intimate moment.

“I suppose, if I’m guilty of anything,” she said, “I’m guilty of leading on Lo into thinking that Uncle Collin could give her what she wanted.  I knew he couldn’t, but I let her find out for herself.  In that, I may have been wrong.  But I didn’t feel like Uncle Collin’s story was mine to tell.”

She certainly had a warped conception of her role in this twisted, incestual scheme she and her uncle had going on.  But, as a friend once said, don’t yuck my yum.  I guess.

Just as she was getting to the acme of her story, the days the three of them spent at the clothing optional hotel, Suzanne walked outside, joining us.

“Good morning, Suzanne,” I said politely, feigning ignorance of her interaction with Lo the previous evening.

“How are you today, HH?” she asked, just as politely.

Ever notice how politeness and manners puts a distance between people?  They are designed to assist civilization and society in running smoothly, but the means by which they do that is by preventing us from getting too close to one another and grinding our gears.

After the events of the night before, only some of which I was present for, this artificial social barrier between us was felt much more tangibly than it would have been otherwise.

As usual, Suzanne was wearing a suggestive, sheer robe over mere skimps of clothing and was accompanied by her ever-present pooches.

“Lilly, dear, why so covered up while sunning yourself?” asked Suzanne.  “You wouldn’t want tan lines on that coveted ass of yours.”

“You’re right,” said Lilly, sitting up, taking a sip of her coffee, and slipping out of her tank top and panties.  It was a good thing I had ejaculated last night in Lo, because, had I been as backed up as I was when I arrived, I might have revealed my arousal.  As it was, all I wanted to do was escape back to Lo’s side (and then sneak inside her sweet spot).

Suzanne then sat across from the two of us, her hounds at her side, her legs crossed.

“Tell me HH,” she began, “I’m so curious.  I know it’s none of my business, but what is your secret?”

I had no idea what she was talking about and I got the sense she phrased it exactly like that to keep me guessing.

“My secret?” I asked.

“I mean, with Lo.”

Still, very intentionally ambiguous.

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” I said nicely.

“Come on,” she insisted.  “You know.”

She was really enjoying teasing me.  Or perhaps hoping that I would inadvertently answer the wrong question, revealing something I shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry, Suzanne, I don’t follow.”

“You and she.  You’re a December/May relationship.  She’s in her very first bloom of May, in fact.”

“And I’m practically in January?”

“No, not at all.  But how do you. . .” she searched for the right word, “manage.”

“Manage what?”

“Oh, no need to be shy.  We’re all friends.  Her dalliances.  Her infidelities.”

I was thinking that I could ask her the same thing, but I then realized, she probably wanted me to.

“Lo does what Lo wants.  If she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“You mean, Lo does whom Lo wants.”

“Either way,” I said.

“And you?” she asked.

“What about me?”
“You do whom you want as well?” she asked, looking over at the nude Lilly.  I noticed that Lilly had put in her earbuds and was blissfully ignorant of our conversation.  In any other situation, such behavior would have come across as rude, but in this instance, it was clear that Lilly was sending her aunt a message: “I don’t give a shit what you have to say.”

“Oh no,” I said.  “I’m content with Lo.”

“You don’t ever have a longing for something else?”

It was a weird way to put it.

“Something?” I asked.

“You know, when all you’ve had is cheap wine, you might want to taste something of a more mature vintage,” she said, uncrossing and spreading her legs.

At just that moment, who should walk out the door but Lo, with a perfect view of Suzanne’s crotch in front of me and Lilly’s nude sunbathing to the left of me.

“Oh, am I interrupting something?” asked Lo.  I heard it as, “You’re in BIG trouble, mister.”  Entrapment!  I am an innocent man!  Yes I am.  An innocent man.

Suzanne & Bandit

Girlfriends

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[The Mount Bliss mini-series continues from Craving Attention.]

“What do you want?” demanded Lo, watching Suzanne pace as she ignored the pleas of her prey.

Finally Suzanne walked right up to Lo and looked at her eye-to-eye, took her hand, and said, “There’s only one thing I want.  It’s the one thing I can’t have.  The one thing you can give me.  But, under the circumstances, I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

“What?” asked Lo, exasperated by the suspense.

“I want your friendship.”

“What?!” asked Lo in a completely different tone.  She couldn’t have been more taken aback.

“I have no friends.  I mean, yes, I have ‘friends,’ but no one who really knows me.  No one I feel I can be completely honest with.  No one who knows about me and Collin.  No one who knows. . . .”  She trailed off.  Lo knew what she meant.  “You and I, we have something in common.  I don’t care what Collin does with you.  He’s only causing more suffering for himself, the poor thing.  I don’t care how attractive, sexy, slutty, or young you are.  The truth is, I not only admire you in a lot of ways, I actually like you.  Now that we’ve gotten all this out in the open, I just want to have one person that I can confide in.  One person who won’t judge me.  One person I can trust.”

Lo was confused, but Lo’s defining characteristic, besides her libido, is compassion.

“You know, Suzanne, trust doesn’t grow out of blackmail.  It’s not something that can be forged by fear or created by coercion.”

“I know, I know,” said Suzanne taking Lo’s hands in hers.  “I didn’t mean to threaten you.  It’s just that. . . you and I are on equal footing.  You and I are cut from the same cloth.  I was trying to point that out, that’s all.”

The truth was that Lo sensed their underlying kinship the first time she met Suzanne.  But now things had changed.  Now she felt a pang of déjà vu, reminding her of her childhood friend with whom she had had a secret sex pact concerning their mutual experience of puppy love.  The sensation filled her with mixed feelings.

“It’s always better to enlist an ally than anger an enemy,” Lo said to me when she recounted the conversation with Suzanne.

Lo accepted Suzanne’s strange offer of camaraderie and then, with a tepid hug and kiss, bade her good night.

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

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[Hi everyone! We hope that you boys & girls reading this from home are all safe and healthy. We know you’re sexy! We’re interrupting our usual programing of the mini-series “Mount Bliss” to bring you this story. You, our longtime readers and fans, probably know that most of the stories you read here are true, but HH takes a long time to craft them and so they are not usually about what is happening NOW. This is a little different.  It was featured in the May edition of Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM) Magazine (p. 38).  It’s appropriate not only because it tell you how we are dealing with life under lockdown, but also it’s appropriate since May is Masturbation Month!  We hope you enjoy and we love to hear your stories of how you are doing: downloladown@gmail.com]

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

“Fuck me,” she said, “Yeah, like that.”

I looked in the slightly ajar door to see just whom Lola could be fucking during a mandatory lockdown in a global pandemic.

“Oh, yeah,” she cooed as she lay, splayed out on the bed, one hand up inside her, the other squeezing her tits.

She was fucking herself and, apparently telling herself just how much she enjoyed it.

Desperate times, I suppose.

We had been in lockdown for two weeks.  It wasn’t so bad.  We were in Florida, by the beach, which eventually got closed down.  But we had a pool.  That too got closed the second week.  Now, all we had was each other and our health – a lot to be thankful for, no doubt, but not nearly enough for Lo.

We were both working remotely.  It was a little past one in the afternoon.  I was trying to do a conference call to Ms. Gale, my secretary, and one other person, but the moans and groans, gasps and grunts from the bedroom could be heard throughout the small apartment we were renting.  When she transitioned to actual words like “Fuck me.  Yeah, like that,” I had to make an excuse to hang up and go check on my nympho in the bedroom.

I politely waited until she was done – or at least taking a pause from her self-pleasure.

“Lo, come on!”

“What Daddy?”

“It’s one-fifteen.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Don’t you have work to do as well?”

“I’ve always had an hour of me-time scheduled every day on my work calendar, even before this whole Coronavirus thing.  Everyone knows not to bother me for this hour.”

“Do they know what you’re doing on your ‘me-time’?”

“Oh no, Daddy.  Well, I mean, I guess some of them probably have their suspicions.”

“Let me tell you, if you’re as loud in your office as you are here, then everyone knows.”

“I’m sorry, Daddio.  But I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just fuck me.”

“We fucked last night and this morning.”

“So, why not this afternoon?”

“If I fucked you as much as you want it, then I certainly would die during this pandemic, but not from the virus!”

“It’s good exercise.”

“It seems like the only exercise you’ve been getting.”

“Well, the gym’s closed.  Besides, the CDC said that the safest sex anyone can have right now is with themselves.”

“The CDC did not say that!”

“Someone said that.”

“Probably you.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Good grief!  Well, try to keep the sound effects to a minimum.  OK?  I have calls to make.”

While I work the day away, Lola plays.  She carries on about five to ten affairs from afar with various men and women.  Her friend, Nero Black, posted about jacking to her photos while his wife, who rarely gives up her goodies to him, jills it in the next room to taboo incest literotica.  Yet, the married boy best beware if she happens to walk in on him in the onanistic act of worshipping Ms. Down.  Lo has frequently suggested (nay, more than suggested, demanded) that Nero direct his partner’s web browser to mysexlifewithlola, or, at the very least, put the two of them in contact with each other.  But, as of yet, he has refrained.  Many-a-night I’ve had to hear from Lo about how she would have treated the two of them if she were their couples counselor.

Lo is friends with a lovely married couple from NJ, Mike and Danielle.  Mike has been a stay-at-home-dad to his two young daughters while Danielle has done the 9-to-5 at the office.  This has left Mike with time to chat with Lo and fap to Lo when the girls are down for a nap.  Luckily, unlike with Mr. Black, this has all been on the up-and-up with his wife Danielle.  In fact, not only with her blessing, but her encouragement.  She loves to come home and see the cumtributes her husband made to and for Lola.  Then, after the kids are put to bed, they turn on Lo’s pixilated pussy and fuck each other while looking at Lola.

Sharing Couple from NJ Hubby’s Cumtribute to Lola

Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories

Sharing Couple of NJ Getting off to Lo

 

Of course, for Lola this is more fodder for the fapper.

Then there’s Floss and Nikki of FlossDoesLife and LoveIsAFetish, respectively.  They both have written raving reviews of the Match, Cinder & Spark books and, what gets Lo going even more, took sexy pics of themselves getting off to the printed page.  What else are you going to do in isolation?

Floss & Lola

Nikki of LoveIsAFetish getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Both Matt and Nelson of tehben.com have also written glowing, yet critical reviews of the audiobook, narrated by the inimitable Jupiter Grant.

The Beautiful Jupiter Grant

Not only do the reviews get Lo riled up, but Lo listens to Jupiter recite tales of Lo’s ribald antics just about every night, which causes her to alternately laugh and lunge in the bed next to me.

Then there’s the various women Lola’s attempting to seduce via sexy chat: Chelle Silverstein, Francesca Demont, and a woman who goes by the cyber-chat name of Warm Skin. 

Warm Skin Getting off to Lo

Don’t get me wrong, this whole ordeal has taken its toll on all of us in so many ways, and Lo is not exempt from that.  There are the nights that Lo can’t sleep due to anxiety about losing her job.  Afternoons that Lo returns from food shopping and has a full-blown panic attack that she has contracted the virus and is certain to pass it on to me.  Lo’s greatest fear? – dying alone.  That means, if I die first, which is more than likely given our age difference, then who will be there for her?  So, worse than her getting sick, in her mind, is my getting sick and dying!  There is the frequent fretting about family members who are already fighting this virus in far-flung points on the map.  Yes, we don’t talk about family too much here, but we do have relatives who are now among the ever-growing statistics you read about in the news.

For Lo, the go-to stress relief from all this ever-higher mountain of seen and unseen woe is found right between her legs.

Lo practicing Social Distancing Stress Relief, pass it along.

Finally, of course, there is just your straight-up porn that Lo has been watching.  Lo has a penchant for amateur porn and her latest infatuation is with the couple Lindsey and Mike Love.  Just as Lo and I fulfill the fantasies of many of our fans, I believe, Lindsey and Mike live out the fantasy life of Lo.  A married couple who enthusiastically got into porn together from the tender age of eighteen and rise to amateur stardom, getting rich and having fun.  I think the thing that Lo likes the most about the pair is that they have a real relationship, a story, and that they are very open to exploring sex with all genders, together and solo.

An hour later, Lo emerged from the bedroom.  “Daddy, it’s hot in there.  Will you help me open the window?”

I entered Lo’s lair of self-love.  I opened the window with ease to let in the ocean breeze, but it immediately deflated downward.

“Is it broken?” asked Lo.

“I don’t know.  It definitely doesn’t stay up like it used to.”

Without missing a beat she quips, “I’m sure you can relate.”

Stay safe everyone and we’ll see you on the internet.

Lola in all her glorly!

Age Gap

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[We interrupt our regularly scheduled story (from the “Mount Bliss” mini-series) to bring you this tale of epistles and dildos.]

 

“Guess who got fan mail?” sung Lola teasingly.

“Oh, what a mystery,” I said flatly, “let me see. . . could it be Lola?”

“Well, uh, yeah.  Duh.  But in addition to me, guess who else.”

“I?”

“Yes you, Shakespeare!”

“And am I allowed to read this love letter?”

“Who said it was a love letter?”

“I just assumed.”

“Here,” she said, abruptly shoving the computer over to me at the breakfast table.

I looked at the email.  It read:

Dear Lola,

Eric asked me to write you something about his special experience with you.

You and my boyfriend Eric have had chats, I know.  He`s always busy with drawing ladies from the internet.  I don’t mind, as long as the women are total strangers and from the other side of the world and I don’t have to be his model.  And we promised each other that real sex is exclusively between us.  He can ‘use’ me anytime he likes. Luckily for him I also like sex very much, so he’s a happy camper.

He tells me everything and shows me all his work.  I must say, he has got some talent but he’s no Rembrandt yet.  It turns me on sometimes when he’s busy drawing.  He sure knows his female anatomy.  At least he knows mine real well.

He told me that you would like Eric to ejaculate all over the pictures you send.  I asked him if he would do that.  He said: If you are ok with it?

I said, I don’t mind as long it’s a pic and not for real.

The thought of him jerking off over your pic was actually exciting me!  So I suggested to help him a little. . . .  That he didn’t expect.  LOL.

We agreed to do it that night.  That night I got him naked.  I kept my shirt and panties on.  I watched him stroking his cock.  It was rock-hard from the start.

I whispered some dirty words in his ears, reading from your blog, and brushed my big soft tits on his back and arms and everywhere.

I got excited a little too.  Seeing him stroking his cock for another girl and me working him up, I was soaking my panties.  I saw some precum on his cock.  I licked it away, pulled my shirt up and let him suck my breasts.  I grabbed his cock as he looked at your photos and I read to him as best I could – one eye on the words and one on his rod.

It wasn’t long before he came all over you.  I mean, all over your pic.  I must confess I swallowed a lot of it.

After that we made this photo for you. Hope you like it.

I got so horny that I wanted him to lick me and he made me come.  I was really dripping wet. After that he penetrated me real tenderly.  Only after half an hour did he eject another load in my pussy.  He obviously had to reload.  LOL.  He even ate my cream-pie!  It was great!

So Lola, thanks for the question you asked.  You are looking very young and lovely.  How old are you?  And have you ever had experience with women?  I don’t mind that.  And how is your boyfriend looking?  And do you have sex often?  Maybe we can exchange some nice pictures?

We hope to hear from you!

Bye now and kisses,

Eric and Charlotte

From Eric and Charlotte

“Lo,” I said after reading it.

She looked up at me, anticipating my reaction.

“It’s all about you.  She wants you.  This isn’t fan mail for me.  It’s adoration of the goddess for you!”

“She said she was reading your writing.”

“One line of the entire letter indirectly alludes to me and you call it my fan mail?!  Good grief!  A bigger egomaniac I never met!”

“Egomaniac or nymphomaniac?  Which is it?”

“Both!!!”

“Fine,” she said.  “I was just teasing with that.  Here’s the real fan mail,” she said, clicking on a different message from her in-box.

I read:

Dear H.H.,

Your power with words penetrates me deeply.  It’s so potent that I lose myself and end up in a place where I am with both of you.  You’re that good!  You’re the type of good that I can begin to feel you.  All I want is to reach through my screen and kiss you.  Taste you.  I’m very selfish, so I may just have to have you all to myself while Lola watches us. Be forewarned.

xoxoxo,

Jen X

Jen X

She also sent a few sexy photos of her as attachments.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked because she usually keeps me at a “healthy” distance from temptation.  Except her temptation, of course.

“I thought it was sweet.”

“It was sexy and direct.”

“Just like me.”

“Exactly, which is why I’m suspicious of your motives.  You despise anyone who attempts to seduce me.  Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No no no,” she laughed as she got up from the table and moved very close to me.  “Show me you love me.”

“I show you with my words.”

“I want you to show me with your cock.”

“Lo, it’s eight in the morning on a Sunday!”

“Exactly.  This could be our fun day.”

“I get it now,” I said.  “You showed me that to arouse me.  You are only interested in getting your needs met.”

“On Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, sex is the top tier.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Well, it’s up there.”

“No it’s not.  Self-Actualization is top.”

“Well, I’m just going to have to go self-actualize myself, if you’re not going to do it for me.”

She sauntered to the bedroom, removing an article of clothing with each couple of steps down the hall.

As you well know, dear reader, Lo is half my age and at least double my libido.  As much as I try to satisfy her cravings, putting logs in the fire so to speak, it only makes a bigger fire of desire that burns through the logs twice as fast.  Buddha was well aware of this maddening math.  I’ve tried to steer clear of becoming consumed by coitus and I’ve finally reached an age where I can transfigure the intensity of my love from physical acts to intellectual creations.

“Your writing is just mental masturbation,” Lo called down the hallway.

“And your masturbation is just. . .physical. . . masturbation,” I responded with a repartee that fell flat as the pancake I was eating.

I turned the computer back toward me and scrolled through Lo’s other fan mail.  Something caught my eye.  It was an exchange between her and a man named Nero Black.  Nero is another middle-aged married man.  Like me, his wife spends much of her sex-drive on self-pleasure, getting off to all manner of taboo literotica.  Unlike me, she doesn’t first try to use him as a sex toy.  In their exchange, Lola had encouraged Nero to sneak mysexlifewithlola.com into his wife’s reading list somehow, or to buy one of the books or the audiobook for his wife to read.  Lo was convinced that if the two of them were to enter into the dregs of desire together, they would find each other there in the darkness of their depravity.

But for whatever reason, Mr. Black was hesitant to take Lo up on this suggestion.  He was in a sexual rut.  His wife was busy getting herself off in the bedroom while Mr. Black was jacking off in the bathroom.  But rarely did the two sex drives cross paths.  Unable to convince Mr. Black to break this pattern, perhaps because he was secretly fond of it, Lo did the next best thing – try to get Mr. Black to get off to her.

Mr. Black had written about how his wife caught him stroking himself to some porn in the bathroom and she just ignored it, with the exception of a snide remark, as if that kettle wasn’t blacker than Mr. Black.  Lo then clamored to Mr. Black to please please please use her photo next time he has a hankering for a wankering.  She even sent him a variety of choice shots to shoot his load to.  She was also hoping he would get caught by the Mrs. while looking at Lo’s image.

There is a certain pattern that emerged from the correspondences I found in Lo’s naughty letter box.  The women who wrote to me were all younger.  I guess I’m so old that statistically speaking, almost all of them will be younger.  And the men Lo wished to worship her were all older – around my age, and mostly married.

It’s true that, like Charlotte, there were a number of women around Lo’s age who also took a fancy to Lo.  But there most decidedly was an age gap between our respective fans.

A dug a little further and saw that dear Mr. Black had indeed used one of Lo’s pornographic images to find his sweet release and he even paid Lo the highest compliment of writing about it!

I walked into the bedroom to find Lo making sweet love to the greatest fuck of her life – herself.

“What is this?!” I demanded, not waiting for her to complete the self-impalement that she was engaged in with her glass dildo.

She didn’t stop.  She looked up, her right hand still rapidly thrusting in-and-out between her legs.

“Get behind me,” she commanded, evading the question and turning on all fours at the same time.

I thought she wanted me to replace the dildo with my own tool.  I was wrong.

“Grab it,” she said, indicating the handle of the dildo.  “Fuck it,” she said, indicating her pussy.  “Faster,” she said.  “Harder,” she said.  “Deeper,” she said.

As she gave me instructions, she scrolled through her photos until she came to one that tickled her fancy.

Her pussy exploded, rocketing out the glass dildo like a missile propelled by a water cannon!  She’s lucky that her discharge was aimed back at me and down at the bed or else her computer would be beyond repair.

When the waterworks were over and I had dried off, Lo was in the bathroom doing who-knows-what.  I looked at the image and accompanying story that had set her off.

“Wait!  What?!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t look!” she called to me from behind the bathroom door.

But there’s some things you just can’t unsee.

It was an illustration, thank goodness, and not an actual photo.  With it was a confession from an older woman who reported to Lola that she found her son looking at Lo’s photos and the blog.

The mother tried to use the opportunity as a “teaching moment.”

She said to her son, “It’s ok, son, Dad also gets off to Lola Down.”

“I know,” he said, ashamed, his face in his hands, “This is his computer.”

“You see,” she said, consoling him, “It’s normal.”

“But,” he began haltingly, embarrassed to say the next few words, “I’m logged on to your account.”

The mother tried not to flinch or to show any sign of embarrassment herself.  Teach by example.  It was true, she had found the blog through her husband’s search history and she had secretly fapped her snatch to it.  But now the family secrets were revealed and they revolved around Lola.

Sorry to see her son’s erection had not dissipated even through this difficult conversation, the mother offered, “Let me help you.  You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Wow!  I can’t even go into the details of what this housewife and mom shared with Lola about what happened next, but I think you get the idea.

Now, I thought, I bet that’s a story that Mrs. Black would really enjoy.

Southern Comfort

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[The mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” continues from “Asses Up” with a story of reuniting lovers.]

Lola’s Nectarine

 

There we were, the six of us, finally, all together.  Lo and Lily, naked as water nymphs wading in the blue lake.  Collin, a seeming avuncular benefactor to his young niece and her attractive friend.  Suzanne, sitting bemused by her husband’s masochistic tendencies.  Oh, and the two dogs, Shadow and Bandit, lounging in the warm sun, too lazy to bark at Jim and me as we approached the backyard, they merely lifted their heads and looked over with expressions of mild curiosity mixed with ennui.

After Lola had greeted me and Lily greeted Jim, the two of them had made proper introductions of me to Suzanne since, as of yet, I had never met her.  I could see a spark of interest in her eye as I shook her hand politely and Lo showed me off like a prize on a game show.  I didn’t want to be Suzanne’s prize.  I just wanted to be unwrapped by Lo.

I greeted “Uncle Collin” with an external warmth and “manly” handshake that masked my deep-seated antipathy toward him.  Collin and Suzanne were hospitable, offering us lunch, cold drinks, and to change clothes if we wished to enjoy the lake.

I didn’t know how to say, “Can you all please just allow Lola and me some private time to ourselves before we join you?”  So I didn’t say that.  Not to mention, Lo seemed quite content with making me suffer by continuing my physical deprivation of her body and my mental agony of seeing her show off her assets before my nemesis, Collin.

As I said, Lo and Lily waded into the placid lake as Jim and I sat on lounge chairs, tall Gin and Tonics by our sides, making small talk with Collin and Suzanne.  “How was the ride?”  “What the hell’s happening in the big city?”  “Have you heard all the adventures that we’ve been up to here?”

That last question, spoken in his boisterous tone by Collin, landed like a grenade in my lap.  I wanted to say, “Yeah, I heard about how you have been living out all your fantasies of seducing girls one-third your age, one of whom is your niece no less!”

I suppose this was a writer’s karma coming back to bite me since a while back I had written lurid, lengthy passages about The Nutcracker and Clara’s relationship with her Uncle Drosselmeyer.  Here, life was imitating my art (or philosophical musings) as Uncle Collin played the prurient host to titillate Lo with his perfectly choreographed vignettes of vice.  Of course, that’s not the way Lo saw things.  According to her, Collin was a perfect gentleman, showering upon her all the kindness and attention that she rightfully deserved.  Vanity skews reality terribly.

The girls sat down on their towels in the sun as Jim, Collin, and I sat in chairs.  We were all facing out toward the lake.  Collin offered to get the girls another drink.  Lo asked for a tall glass of ice water in addition to another G&T.  It seems to me that there is an unwritten rule that women must do things in pairs, never solo, and so Lily also asked for a tall glass of water on the side.

I tried to be a good guest and offered to help Collin, but he turned me down and encouraged me to “get reacquainted” with Lola.

Suzanne returned with a tray of drinks.  In her absence, she apparently changed into a skimpy outfit.  Not quite nude, but not hiding anything either.  The dogs were dutifully by her side.

Lola accepted the drinks graciously and then Jim and Lily got up to play a game of horseshoes on the lawn.  Lola remained, sitting on her towel across from me.  She sat up and bent her knees, displaying her crotch to me.

“Hot today,” she said with a seductive sip of her straw.

She pulled out an ice cube from her glass and ran it over her lips, under her chin, down her neck, over her nipple, and down to her crotch, over her clit and, eventually, slipped it right in her cunt.

“That feels goooood,” she said.  “Miss me?”

I was practically drooling as I looked at her.

She repeated her performance with another ice cube, delighting in my discomfort.

Then she took the remaining four or five ice cubes out of the cup and slipped them into her pussy.

“Do you want to play, Daddy?” she asked.

“Play what?” I queried.

“A game,” she said ambiguously.  She then crawled on all fours toward me and, when she got right between my legs as I sat in my lawn chair, she kneeled in front of me and put her elbows on my knees and looked up at me.  She said, “I missed you.”

It was nice to hear those words from her mouth.  But I shouldn’t have been fooled.  She was not being sweet, she was being sexy.  Just after the words I longed to hear dripped off her lips, the ice cubes she had been harboring inside her hot snatch dropped from her sopping pussy onto the grass.

“Whoops,” she said.  “I guess I’m not as tight as I used to be.”

“I’m interested in seeing our sleeping quarters,” I said to her.

“Oh, Daddy, you’re in such a rush.  Let’s enjoy the weather while it’s still sunny out.”  She could see my raging hard-on through my shorts and she said, “I’ll make it all up to you later.”

“I’m not going to enjoy anything until I hear about your time here.”

She knew what I meant by hearing about her time.  Our special pillow talk.

“Oh, Daddy, it’s been so much fun!” she almost squealed.  “I wish we could go back and do everything again with you!”

“What did you do?”

“You’ll hear all about it tonight.  But right now, let’s make some new memories together.”

She got up and Suzanne called us to join the others to eat.  Lola and Lily put on some skimpy shreds of fabric and we headed up for a late lunch.

They had grilled out on the deck and I was famished.

As we sat around the table in the backyard, I tried to tamp down how much I despised Collin and did my best to avoid the flirtations that I perceived from Suzanne.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t join us, H,” said Collin in his booming voice that made everything he said sound like a brag.  “You would have really enjoyed it.  I think the girls did.”

“The girls?” I thought.  Such a chauvinist.  Where was Lo’s feminist streak?  I guess it washed off in the lake or she shed it while streaking around the back yard.

“But don’t think I spoiled them,” he continued.  “Oh no.  I made them work for their room and board.  I think Lo might have even developed blisters on her hands from the effort.”

“Is that so?” I asked, turning to Lo.  “Let me see the palms of those delicate hands.”

Lo showed me her hands and said, “I had to tug and squeeze and pull and yank, just to get a little bit of cream.  But the taste was sooooo rich and sweet that it was totally worth it.”

“Did you churn it as well?” I asked, playing along with her.

“I sure did.  I churned it until all that cream turned to butter.”

“I bet you did.  Golden, sweet butter.  I can’t wait to taste it.”

“And my peach?!”

“Peaches,” I corrected her.  “You picked more than one, didn’t you?”

“There’s only one worth having,” she said.  “But did I say peach?  I meant, nectarine.”

Collin served up the burgers, steak, veggie kabobs, and Suzanne brought out the salad and more drinks.

“Isn’t he a darling?” asked Suzanne to Lola with reference to me.  She had a barely perceptible southern drawl that came out more pronounced in her question.

“I see now,” said Lo, “he is just the darlingest darling.”  Her voice was conveying a lot of latent content, most of it hostile to both me and Suzanne.

Suzanne was fluttering around, clearly trying to impress in what was basically her lingerie as she attended to Jim and me.  After five days of being a recluse in her room, suddenly Suzanne was eager be the life of the party.  She vigorously mixed our martinis in the shaker above her head like a bartender straight out of Cowboy Ugly.  She bent over to pour out the drinks into the fancy, handmade, delicate glasses.  She strutted her stuff in heels across the slate floor and generally put on a Lola-worthy performance.  It afforded me a glimpse into the life of Lola in twenty years (when I’m either dead or in the old-age home).

She had been friendly, in a cordial way, to Lo and Lily, but now she was flirty, vivacious, and playing the role of the vixen.

Collin watched with a just perceptible look of perturbance on his face.  Not outright scorn or contempt, but a subtle disapproval of her behavior.  Who was he, though, to call her out?

After a few drinks, I stopped avoiding the unwelcome attention of Suzanne and began to  enjoy it to the exact degree that it annoyed Lola to witness.  And the more I displayed my pleasure at Suzanne’s doting over me, the more Lola was visibly disturbed by the spectacle.

Jim was only slightly less distraught than Lo due to Suzanne’s uninvited flirtation.  Lily paid her no mind, as if Suzanne was merely a summer fly that had to be tolerated, but couldn’t ruin all the other benefits of the great outdoors.  We sat around the deck sipping our drinks in the afternoon sun, which made the already potent concoctions even more powerful.  I was pacing myself, but I noticed that for every drink the rest of us downed, Suzanne had pounded two.

Soon afternoon had turned to early evening and Collin lit the fire pit.

It was as if a switch had flipped in Suzanne’s head and without warning her hospitality and flirtation transposed into hostility and vindictiveness, aimed mostly at Collin.

“What do you think, Collin,” she taunted with spite, “should I take H here on a trip to the hotel?  Strip him down naked, and enjoy some eye-candy?  Would you like that?  Maybe he would like this?” she said, rubbing her hands over her hips.  What had seemed charming and attractive just a little while ago, now, with the admixture of too much alcohol, appeared to me rather disgraceful and repugnant.

For the first time since I met him, Collin was visibly uncomfortable, not in control of the situation, and at a loss.

“That’s enough of that,” he said to Suzanne, feigning power, but revealing fear.  “Tell me, H, of this big case that kept you away this week,” he said to me, trying to steer our attention away from his wayward wife.

“Yes, H, tell us,” Suzanne said, stealing the spotlight again.  “Did you press your point hard?  I bet you have such an interesting job.  Not just vicariously getting animals to live your life for you.”

I let out a nervous laugh and said, “It’s actually quite boring.”

“Boring?!” squealed Lo.

“Of course, I don’t mean you.  I mean work.”

“See, Collin, how he adores her?” Suzanne tossed in his face.

“That’s enough,” began Collin.

“And he doesn’t even hold it against her that she’s a little slut for you.”

“Hey,” I said, feeling like I needed to come to the defense of Lola despite the fact that we’ve never before regarded the S-word as a slur.  But between us it isn’t meant as an insult.
“No, no,” said Collin, “let her talk.  Let her show you who and what she really is.”

Now it was getting very tense at the table and Lo, always the social lubricant, interrupted it to say she’d help clear the dishes.  She got up and grabbed a few plates from in front of us and sashayed toward the house.

“Can I get anyone anything while I’m up?” she asked over her shoulder.

Collin was busy staring down Suzanne.  Suzanne was busy staring at me.  Jim was suggesting to Lily that they go to bed and Lily excused herself to help Lola.  What an uncomfortable set of sexually frustrated friends.

“Collin, did you know that HH is a scholar of art history?” Lily asked, interrupting the thick silence.

“No, no I didn’t.  I thought he was a lawyer.”

“People can be more than one thing,” said Suzanne.

“Would you like to show him your art collection?” suggested Lily.

“An excellent idea,” said Collin, clearly eager to get out of the close quarters of the dining area turned battlefield and eager to show off more of his monetary prowess.

He took me by the arm and began showing me various second-rate paintings and sculptures that he had acquired over the years and haphazardly arranged around the house.  None of it was worth a quarter of what he had paid for it, I’m sure.

When we were done with our little tour, he led us back to the living room where Lo and Lily were whispering something.

It was set up like a little conversation pit with a fireplace and round leather couches.  When we got there, Suzanne followed with the two dogs in tow.  She started teasing them and roughhousing with them until she was on all fours and they were nipping at her playfully, yipping and yapping.

“These two,” she said, “have been so jealous for my attention ever since you arrived.”

“Suzanne!” called Collin.  “Please!”

“They are so jealous.  They can’t stand to have other males in the house.”

“Stop it!”

“Well, except for Collin, of course.  But he doesn’t count.”

The dogs were jumping, getting behind her and lifting their front paws.

“That’s why they’re so frisky,” she laughed.

“SUZANNE!!!” yelled Collin.  This time Suzanne, clearly inebriated, merely laughed hysterically at the playful pets.

Just then there was a startling CRASH from behind us.

Suzanne & Bandit

“The Good Place”

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[We interrupt the mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” to bring you this timely tale of Lo’s date from Easter last year. We hope you enjoy it and hope that you have also been enjoying the mini-series. We will do our best to continue with the last few installments of the series this week. Happy Easter to everyone! We hope you are all safe, healthy, happy, sexy, and enjoying all of our content!”

“The Good Place”

It was Easter Sunday morning and we could both sleep late, finally.  But I awoke to Lo screaming, “Fuck!  God!  Fuck!  Fuck!  FUCK!!!” and a buzzing sound.  I felt the sprinkle of her holy water on my foot and then she turned to me and said, “Oh, morning!  Best alarm clock ever, right?” as she shut off her Hitachi Magic Wand and pulled it out from under the blankets.  She jumped out of bed, bare-ass, and said, “You have to get up now, Daddy, because I have to strip.”

“You’re already naked.”

“I have to strip the bed.  Get up.”

Reluctantly I got out from under the blankets as she peeled them off the bed to reveal the puddle she had made.  She removed the sheets and tossed them in the laundry basket.
“A happy Easter to you too,” I said sarcastically.  “Was that you reciting the Rosary?”

“No, but I can get my beads, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“What beads?”

“My anal beads, of course.”

“You are a sacrilegious sex-addict!”

“You are a silver-tonged poet!”

“Now that we have stroked each other’s egos, what else would you like to stroke?”

As she was taking out the fresh sheets, she picked up her Hitachi and said, “Now I know why they call it a Magic Wand!  Because it does the trick every time!”

Meanwhile, I was standing naked, my cock saluting her sexy body as she moved and jiggled making the bed.

Once the corners were all tucked and the bed turned down, I jumped in.

“Hey!” she said, “I just made that!”

“Yeah, well it was made just for me.”

“No, it was made for me. . . to get laid.”

“I don’t object to that.”

“Later,” she said, to my great disappointment.

“What do you have to do now?”

“I have a date.”

“What?!”

“A date, with a girl.”

“What?!” I said again.

“Yeah, I took out another ad,” she said, nonchalantly, as she tossed her phone on the bed for me to see.

Lola’s Ad featuring Lola Getting Off to her 18″ dildo

Adventurous, sexy, intelligent, fun female seeks the same for good time out on the town and in the bedroom.  I like to dominate and, occasionally, be dominated.  I’m experienced and in an open relationship, but he will not be part of this.  Trysexual – I’ll try anything!   D&D Free. You be too.  NO GUYS!  Must have voice confirmation.  Send e-mail with info about you and pics.  Need not be explicit, but must show face.

 

“When did you do this?” I inquired.

“A while ago,” she said in her Scarlett O’Hara voice as she put on her pink thong panties.  “And my date is today.”

“Can I come along?” I asked.  It was more like pleading.

“No!  Didn’t you read the ad?”

“Yes, but. . .”

“No buts.”

“But your butt.  It’s such a nice butt.  And it’s such a nice day.  Where are you going?”

“We’re meeting for coffee at the café around the corner.”

“I’ll just sit by you.”
“No, you’ll make me self-conscious.”

“Please.”

I must have been very pathetic because she finally gave in.

“Fine, but you have to wait at least ten minutes before you leave, and don’t sit anywhere near me.”

“OK.  I’ll just sit where I can see you.”

She put on her cutest pink skirt and white t-shirt top, little baby blue pumps, and grabbed a designer handbag.

“How do I look?”

“You’re missing something.”

“What?”

“A pink Easter bonnet.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.  Remember, ten minutes!”

“Yes, I know.  I still have to get dressed anyhow.”

She was out the door and I rifled through my drawers to find something inconspicuous to wear.  I put on the first things I found and dashed outside. I could see Lo’s little caboose sashaying down the street about fifty yards ahead of me.  It was a beautiful sight along with the pink blossoms on the trees and the budding tulips.

I slowed down as Lo found her date and introduced herself, sitting down next to her at a little table on the sidewalk.  Either her date got there early or Lo was late.  In either case, Lo’s date was a very cute redhead with freckles.  Lo had her back to my approach.

I was hoping to get a seat in the restaurant where I could safely spy on the two of them from behind the plate-glass window.  But the hostess seated me outside, just diagonally from them both.  Not only could I see everything, I could hear them too!  At first Lo didn’t see me, thank goodness, because she would have been very cross at me.

They ordered breakfast and mimosas.  I did too.

Lo’s date was not at all what I had expected.  Usually the people who reply to these personal ads are men and women (or couples) roughly about Lo’s age – early to mid-twenties.  But maybe due to the aging of the technology and its becoming obsolete by newer apps, like Tinder and Bumble, it’s an older crowd that is cruising the virtual personals.  (By the way, Lo doesn’t use those more popular apps because she’s afraid of being recognized by her colleagues, or worse, students!)  This woman was in her mid-thirties, at least.  Maybe forty, but it’s hard to say.  Long strawberry-blonde hair, thin, wearing denim shorts, high wedges with straps, and a loose-fitting black blouse.  She rocked the outfit, but I was surprised to see a woman who looked like she could be a mom.

The seats outside filled up and it got a little louder.  I found it difficult to hear them, but I caught snippets of their conversation.  The mystery woman (I didn’t know her name yet) was asking about Lo’s “half-open relationship.”  I heard Lo reply, “I’m not homosexual or heterosexual, bi-sexual, or even metro-sexual.  I’m very sexual.”  I’m sure she followed that with a pass of her tongue over her pearly white teeth.

The woman continued along the same lines, inquiring about Lo’s promiscuity (in a polite way) and Lo said, “I don’t call it slutty.  I call it getting my needs met.”

I could see that Lo’s date liked this sort of talk.  Lo can be very direct.  The date reciprocated.  I heard her say, “Your pussy and panties must smell so good!”

To which Lo replied, “Like roses and cotton candy.”

When they had finished their meals and were drinking coffee, the waitress brought them each a complimentary Cadbury egg for dessert.  Lo was elated.  She unwrapped it and then slowly bit into the chocolate and then said, “Mmmmm, I love to lick out the cream!”

“Me too,” said her friend.  “How about we go back to your place?”

“I’m wide open to that idea,” said Lo, and I could see her uncross her legs and remove her foot from her shoe to rub her friend’s calf.  “But,” she added, “my man is there right now.”

I wanted to leap up from my seat and say, “No, no!  I’m not.  I’m right here!  Go right ahead.”  But I had to keep silent.

Her friend looked very disappointed.  Lo hates to disappoint.  “I’ll tell you what,” she said, “maybe I can text him and tell him to leave us alone for a couple of hours.”

Her friend perked up at that idea.  Lo took out her phone and soon I got a text saying, “Is it ok, Daddy?”  Thank goodness my phone was on silent, because the sound of it going off with a text message may have looked suspicious.

I texted back, “Is what ok?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.  I know you’re sitting right there.  Is it ok for me to take Meri to our place for a while?”

“If that pleases you,” I texted back.

Lo smiled at her friend.  They paid the bill and soon were off to fuck, leaving me with nothing to do on Easter morning.  I didn’t even bring a book!

About two hours later and about eight miles of strolling through our sunny city streets, I finally got a text from Lo.  It said, “Exhausted!  Come home.”

I hightailed it back to our place only to find Lo in the messed bed, naked again.

“Come here,” she said.

“Still love me?” I asked first.

She pulled down the covers and spread her legs as far apart as they would go and said, “Daddy, I love you THIS much!”

“Will you tell me each and every detail?”

“You know I will.  I have a pornographic memory.”

I got naked and lay on top of her and plunged my rod deep in her hole.

She said, “Uh uh.  No.  In my ass.  My cunt is worn out.”

I flipped her over on her tum and slid right in.

“You’re so slick,” I said.

“I’m a well-oiled machine,” she replied.

“Now tell me,” I insisted.

“Believe it or not, Meri is a mother of three and the oldest is eighteen!”

“I can’t believe it,” I said, both about what Lo had said and how good her rear entrance felt.  “You fucked a mom?!”

“More like she fucked me.  She’s been married twenty-two years and has never before been with a woman.”

“Really?”

“She got permission from her husband to find someone to show her the ropes.”

“There were ropes involved?”

“Shut up and keep fucking my ass.”

I am good at taking instructions like that.

“We got here and she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes and hop into bed.  No small talk, no foreplay, nothing.  So I asked her, ‘What do you want?  To do me or me to do you?’  She said she wanted to do me.  She wanted to fuck me good and hard.  She has quite the domineering streak about her.  So I pulled out my dildo and placed it in her hands.  She was amazed at the size of it.  I told her not to be shy.  I slipped out of my panties and pulled my skirt over my waist and lay on the bed with my legs spread.  She began by fingering me.  She asked if it was ok first, which I thought was nice.  I said, ‘Just fuck me like your little whore.’  That got her going.  She used the dildo on my puss, ramming it fast and hard, hitting my spot.  She never saw a woman squirt before in real life and she was thrilled that she was able to do that for me!  Little did she know that I squirt just about every time.”

Our next book will be called “Slut Life” about Lola’s adventures by the ocean

“Are you squirting now?” I interrupted to ask, since I felt her juices dripping down my thigh.

“Not yet, Daddy.  I’m just soaked.”

I increased my speed and depth.

“That’s it,” she said.  “Like she did with the dildo in my cunt.”

She pulled up a photo of Meri from her phone to look at it.  “She has great tits,” Lo said as she began squirting on me with force, soaking the bed.  She suddenly fell forward, lying flat on her tum in the puddle she made, convulsing like a fish out of water.  There was no way I could stay in her.  I grabbed my drenched, hard baton and lay on my back next to her.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head.  She was temporarily blitzed out.

When she came to, she said, “What an amazing day!”

“Full of Easter Eggs,” I said, jokingly.

She played with my hard cock with her right hand, seeing how it bounced back into its rigid upright position when she would bend it down.

“Christ has risen.  Christ will cum again,” she said, stroking my member from the base to the tip.

“Good for Christ, but I haven’t cum once!”

She pivoted on her tum so her mouth was over my cock and she put out her tongue as if to receive Holy Communion.  “May I have your flesh?” she asked.

She took my cock in her mouth and slid up and down the shaft.  She went all the way down to my balls and took them in her warm, wet mouth.  It felt good, but I needed sweet release.  She returned to the tip and looked up at me.

Momentarily, she pulled up off my cock in order to say, “I wanted to go down on her.  I wanted to return the fuck for her.  But she didn’t let me.  She just fucked me fast and furious and filled my cunt with all sixteen inches of my dildo.  I didn’t get to give her any pleasure at all, other than the pleasure of pounding me like a boss.”

Lo went back down on my dick looking up at me again.  “Am I a good girl, Daddy?” she asked, looking for approval.

“Did Meri think you were a good girl?”

“I don’t know,” she said as her fingers fondled me between my legs, lightly.  “I came by the bucket load, and then she said she had to get going.  She had plans with her family for Easter, she said.  She got dressed and simply blew me a kiss as she let herself out.  I was too weak to even get up.  I used my skirt to soak up what I could and texted you.”

“You’re a very good girl,” I said.

I was lying on my back and she got up, straddled me with her knees beside my hips, and she grabbed her ass cheeks with each hand, spread them, and slowly let herself down on my erect cock, guiding it directly into her anus, slowly.  I’m not nearly as long as her dildo, but she slid down on me until she was sitting on my pelvis.  She pulled her feet in between my legs and sat there, her back to me, and she rocked gently back and forth to feel me deep inside her.  I could feel the tip of my member penetrating as far up as possible.  She spread her legs and began fingering her clit.  She grabbed her red dildo, the one that Meri had used on her, and slipped it up and in her pussy.  I could feel it enter her.  She was filled and tight and moaning a tune of pleasure.  I lay on my back enjoying her ride.  She called over her shoulder to me, “Cum in me.  Cum.  Cum and fill me up.  I want to feel your hot. . .”

She didn’t finish her command before I obediently complied.  I pulsed with strong spurts of spunk into her hole.  She tightened her grip on me even further and I felt as if she wouldn’t let go.  I didn’t mind.  I liked being there, deep inside her.

I felt her slide the dildo out from her front hole as she squirted down onto her ankles.  And then, after a long sigh of relief, she slowly lifted her bum up off of me.  I slid out of her as she eased her way up, with both hands grabbing her ass again, and she let all of my cream filling slowly leak out onto my flaccid cock.

Her whole body crumbled as if, deprived of my rigidity, it had no strength to remain upright.  She lay next to me on the bed.  She curled into her little spoon as I cuddled her as her big spoon.  She fell off to sleep in the midst of all the mess she and I had made together, not to mention the mess Meri had made of her.  It was only a cat nap.  When she awoke, I whispered in her ear, asking her, “Would you like to watch an episode of “The Good Place?”

“Mmmmmm,” she said, moving her right hand behind her, reaching down to my cock and then inserting a finger in her soaked ass, and she said, “This is the good place.”

Asses Up

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[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Dutiful Niece.”  We apologize for any delay and concern that the delay may have caused. Working on being more consistent content creators.]

“I don’t think this is a story I can tell,” I said to Lo as we were driving back home from the bizarre weekend in the mountains with Lily, Jim, Lily’s Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne.

“It sure did get weird fast,” she remarked, looking with a vacant stare out the window as the scenery streaked by.

“The whole thing was weird,” I remarked.

“That’s true,” she said, “but it got even more so once you got there.”

A little background may be in order here, dear reader.  Lily and Jim are our very good friends from home.  They’re married.  Lily is Lo’s age and of her same temperament.  Jim is slightly older, with a few hang-ups.  Lily’s Uncle Collin had invited the four of us up to his lake house in the mountains for a week but, due to our work schedules, only Lily and Lo could join him for the first five days.  During that time, Collin hit hard on Lo and Lo lapped it up, returning his advances with explicit flirtations.  Lily, during this whole extramarital exchange, reassured Lo that Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne “had an understanding” and that it was fine.

Because Uncle Collin and Aunt Suzanne have separate bedrooms and the former sleeps alone and the latter with her two dogs, the night before Jim and I were to arrive, Lo finally “slept” with Uncle Collin.  But it literally was just sleeping together because, as she found out that night, Uncle Collin, virile as he is, he is also impotent and suffers from E.D. due to an accident that injured his spine two decades ago.

The next morning, when Lo confronted Lily about this, it was revealed that Lily was a coconspirator with Uncle Collin to help him gave the female companionship he so long to enjoy with Lo.  But, not only that, it turned out that Lo was only the latest in a long string of sexy young friends whom Lily had enticed to spend “quality time” with Uncle Collin.

Saturday morning, Jim and I were headed straight for the eye of this swirling sordid affair.

Just to add even more spice to the already simmering pot, he and I were hard-up from a long five days apart from our respective hotwives and I had just come off of a terrible week, losing my big case that Friday.

I was so wrapped up in my own need to reconnect with Lo and my own dark and stormy cloud from the past week, that I hadn’t even put thought to how horny Lo would be, or Lily for that matter.  The last I had heard, Lo, Lily, and Collin had gone to a resort on Thursday and so I had no idea that Lo wasn’t getting her fill of good fucks by Uncle Collin there.  But I had heard from my reliable informant about Lily’s big reveal that she adheres to the ‘A.O.L.’  (Anal Only Lifestyle.)  A fascinating little tidbit of knowledge that had piqued my curiosity.

After we stopped for coffee and a quick breakfast sandwich at a highway rest stop, we were on the road for a good couple of hours.  Once we were a good distance outside the city, as the sun was burning off the morning mist, we saw some horses over in the field on the side of the road.

“You remember last time we all saw Uncle Collin?” asked Jim, slightly bemused by the horses.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Remember what we did?”

“You mean the candle lit therapy session?”

“No,” he said, snapping out of it.  “I mean the breeding farm he took us to.”

“Oh yeah, for his ‘prized stallion,’” I said, a little snarky.

“Yeah,” said Jim.  “Lo was really fascinated by that,” he remarked.  Clearly the experience had stuck with him.

“She’s a size queen,” I blurted out as a half joke, but immediately regretted it when I recalled Jim’s own diminutive size.

He turned to look at me with a quizzical expression.  “Then why does she like me?” he asked, genuinely.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that she both pities him and also loves to tease, so I said simply, “She thinks you’re cute.”

He let it drop and resumed his original line of questioning.  “So being a ‘size queen’ extends to other species?” he asked, getting to the point.

“To be honest, I think she’s just mesmerized by cock.  All cock.  She enjoys the power she exerts over it.  The power to make it hard, to make it cum, to put someone under her power of seduction.  It’s a power trip to her.  And part of that power trip is also the power that she feels by knowing she can take something so incredibly large.  Call it ‘the power of the puss’ if you want,” I said, laughing to myself about the turn of phrase.

All Cocks

“Has she ever. . .” began Jim, not able to even ask the question.

“Is this our turnoff?” I asked, evading his question.

He looked at his phone to check the map and he said, “The girls are asking if we will be eating breakfast with them.”

“When will we get there?”

“E.T.A. is about 11:00,” he said.

“Let’s plan on lunch.”

“Turn here,” he said.

As I got in the right lane, I saw the sign that read, “EXIT ONLY.”  It made me think of a woman I once knew who was adamantly anti-anal sex and remarked to me, “That is an exit only orifice.”  I chuckled to myself and thought of what a dirty old man I am and how Lily’s “Anal Only Lifestyle” is not a turnoff, but a real turn-on for me.

“Did our session by candlelight help you and Lily?” I asked, venturing into a topic he hadn’t revisited with me since that fateful night.  I suspect he had “confessor’s remorse” after admitting that he didn’t know how to fully please her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you two talk about bringing a bull into the relationship or a little BDSM?”

“It’s more complicated than that.  She’s different than you think.”

“How so?”

“I mean, you know that, like you two, we’re in an open relationship.”

“Yeah.”

“But, unlike Lo she. . . .”  He trailed off.

“Jim we’ve known each other a long time.  You’ve been with Lo.  Lily has been forthright and open with us.  There’s nothing you should feel inhibited from telling me.  I hate to pull this card, but I’m older.  Maybe I have some sage advice.”

“Lily has a Catholic girl hang-up about sex,” he finally blurted out.

“What?!  Other than Lo, she’s one of the most openminded people I know.”

“It’s true.  She’s never had sex.  We’ve never had sex, properly.”

“OK, now I know you’re putting me on.”

“I wish it was a joke, but it’s not.  She grew up being told that sex is wrong, sex is bad, and girls who engage in sex are doomed to Hell.”

“But they only say that about fornication – sex outside of the marriage.”

“Well, that’s how she got started before marriage and, I guess, she still likes it that way.”

“How do you feel about that?” I ventured to ask, fully aware that I was treading over delicate, as if hiking along a cliff that could fall through at any moment.

It was as if a switch went off in his mind.  This normally mild-mannered, easy-going guy became enraged.  “I fucking hate it!” he blurted out.  “It’s so fucking dumb.  We’ve been married almost a year now and every fucking time I want to fuck her, she flips over on her belly and sticks her ass in the air, spreads her ass cheeks and says, ‘I’m ready for you now.’  What the fuck?!  Why can’t we just have real, loving intercourse?”  He punched the glove compartment.

“Hey, take it easy,” I said, concerned about the damage he was doing to my car and that he’d set off the airbag.

“Sorry, but this has been frustrating me since. . . well, since forever.”

“Have you talked with her about it?”

“Of course I have.”

I felt stupid even asking him, since he was so abrupt with his reply.

“I’m sorry, H, but. . .”

“I understand, Jim.  You and I, we’re both frustrated.  We haven’t seen Lo or Lily in five days and. . .”

“Yeah, how are you doing with that?” he interrupted to ask.

“With what?”

“With her being around Uncle Collin?”

“Whatever,” I said, dismissively and disingenuously since that thought had been consuming me for days now.

“I forgot, you don’t get jealous about her fucking other guys,” he said, as if bating me.

“As long as she’s honest about it,” I said, continuing to dissemble.

Soon we were pulling down a long dirt road leading to the cottage.

“I’ll text Lily that we’ll be there in a minute.”

“OK,” I said, feeling tense with no appetite other than for Lo.

We pulled up to the circular driveway in front of the picturesque villa.  I parked the car and Jim, who had been there before, let me around back to the deck where the girls and Collin and Suzanne, as well as the two dogs, were relaxing.

Lo and Lily were both naked as they day they were born.  They got up, their tits swinging and jiggling, their asses looking sweetly tanned, their unabashed display of their bodies admirable.  I saw how Collin watched Lo and his niece greet us as we appeared on the deck.  His eyes carefully watched ever move, every gesture, every subtle sign, deciphering its meaning and adducing the nature of the relationship.  He was a limp snake in the grass.  But, mind you, at that point, I still was in the dark as to what had transpired between him and Lo.

I wanted nothing more at that moment than to sweep Lo off of her bare feet and bring her to the bedroom (or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or really anywhere, even right there!) and discover all her stories while plumbing her depths with my philosophically penetrating apparatus.

Slut Seminar

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[We take a break from our regularly scheduled programming of “Mount Bliss” in order to bring you this brief story that was published in the April Issue of ENM Magazine (Ethical Non-Monogamy). ENM only launched in January of this year and now, due to COVID-19, is struggling. Please stop by and support them. Thanks.]

“It is hard to imagine ‘slut’ being reclaimed the way ‘queer’ was, as a respectable label for academic programs and cultural centers.” (“Slut: The Other Four Letter S-Word,” on Fresh Air, WHYY, NPR, March 13, 2012)

The course was only open to graduate students and doctoral candidates.  They were mostly from the Women’s Studies department, but some were from English and/or Comp. Lit.  One or two were from the Philosophy department and one from the Religious Studies/Theology department.  It didn’t matter where they came from; what mattered was that they came.

Slut Seminar

This was the cutting edge of academia: Slut Studies.  The syllabus was a stroll down all the dark, forbidden stacks of the salacious, suggestive, censored and censured, prurient, perverted, plucky and poetic pornographic literature of the centuries.

It culminated with an in-depth reading and analysis of Match, Cinder & Spark.  The professor was only a few years older than the students, if that.  The student body was female and most of them either lusted for or loathed the professor because she was either the woman they wanted to bed or the woman they wanted to be.

They listened intently to her lectures and were eager to contribute to the lively debate about the nature of the nympho.

The English Lit student, Yael, said, “I think that Lola is a metaphor, a symbol, maybe even a mythic archetype.”

“Of what?” replied the professor.

“Of the receptive, open, accepting, and limber principle of life.  The Great Feminine.  And her squirting episodes are emblematic of the fluidity of life.”

“Like Yin in Taoism?” inquired the professor.

“Or it could be the other way around,” chimed in the Theology student.

“What do you mean by that?” asked the professor, genuinely confused.

“I mean. . .” began Sarah, the seminarian, searching for the right formulation of her thoughts, “that maybe we need to reimage our notion of God.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” said the professor.  “How does that relate to the text?”

“Well, for millennia, God was understood as a stern, strict, father figure.  Or, even if we look at the New Testament, a chaste, pure, abstemious saintly sufferer.  There’s little room for pleasure, sex, sexuality, or love that borders on desire in those paradigms.  Without a sex-positive godhead, how can you be sex-positive giving head?”

There were some chuckles in the classroom at that comment.

“No, seriously,” she implored, “maybe Lola is the avatar of a sex-positive spirituality.”

“That seems to bring us right back to Plato’s Diotima,” the professor said, trying to reframe the discussion and put it on an academic foundation.

“I don’t see why we have to contextualize the cunt in such highfalutin imagery,” interrupted one Marxist from the class.

The professor wasn’t sure if her use of “cunt” was literal or synecdoche.

“I mean,” said Mandy the Marxist, “there’s a direct correlation between the pussy and the personality.  It’s that simple.  Open, warm, welcoming, easy, or tight, closed, and constricting.  One either gives and receives or one is greedy and rejecting.”

To that comment, there was a big uproar in the class.  It seemed everyone wanted to criticize Mandy.

One voice eventually won out over the din.  “That is so black and white!  So dualistic!”  It was Penny, the philosopher.  “You Marxists are just Hegelian dialectical materialists.  It’s either/or with you.”

“Please, please,” refereed the professor, “There’s no need to be so personal.”

“I’m not being personal,” said Penny.  “I’m not attacking Mandy.  Just her philosophical assumptions.”

“Well, let’s make sure that we’re all clear about that,” the professor said, trying to keep the calm.

“Lola is more complex than goddess/whore, open/closed, yin/yang.  Yes, she has a lot of sex, with herself and others.  But, ultimately, she’s just human with human foibles, human desires, and she’s flesh and blood.”

“She’s a literary character,” interrupted Yael.

“I mean,” said Penny, “she’s depicted like a human of flesh and blood.”

“Actually,” said the professor, “she is a human of flesh and blood.”

“What?” gasped many of the women.

“Well, yeah,” said the professor, a bit embarrassed that she let the pussy out of the bag.  “I know her.”

“You know her?!” one of the students asked in disbelief.  “I thought this was fiction.”

“It says right on it ‘roman à clef,’” she said.

“Meaning?” asked one of the students.

“That’s a look-it-up question,” shot back the surly professor.  She had no patience for graduate students who don’t use the incredibly convenient tools at their disposal, like the internet.  “It means a text in which the characters are based on real people, but their identities are slightly concealed.”

“So Lola is a real person and you know her?”

The professor nodded.

They were all on the edge of their seats waiting for her to reveal more.

“I think now is a good time to take a break,” said the professor.

Hotwives in Training

While outside the classroom, the students chatted, musing amongst themselves, “Do you think she is Lola?” one asked, referring to the hot professor.

“No way,” said another.

“Could be,” pondered a third.

“I bet she is Lola,” said a fourth.

“You’re totally wrong,” said another.

“How do you know?”

“Because, it’s a ‘look-it-up question’,” she said, mimicking the professor’s snide tone.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I looked up Lola Down and found so much!”

Everyone took out their phones and started looking her up.

Ooos and Ahhhs were heard before they were stifled as the professor walked by and all the women compared what they saw on their phones to the professor’s curvy figure in her tight dress as she pranced past them.

They followed her in, each formulating a theory about the fount of her personality.

Yael Wolfe

 

[This story was inspired by Yael Wolfe (@yaelwolfehowls). Lola & HH also are very thankful to the gentlemen at Tehben.com (Matthew Burroughs and Nelsen Rockingham) who have thoughtfully reviewed three of the Match, Cinder & Spark books. We avidly welcome other scholars, such as John of astijake.wordpress.com and Dr. Kasey Butcher of phdsandpigtails.com, to write a scholarly review.]

Kasey Butcher, Ph.D.

Dutiful Niece

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Lo’s Tits Out

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Pink Grapefruit“]

Saturday morning and Lola woke up in the large bed, but Collin was gone.  She slipped into a robe she found and then surreptitiously snuck barefoot through the house to the guest bedroom where she and Lily had been staying.  Though Collin had said it was fine with Suzanne that Lo and he slept together, she didn’t want to find out through a confrontation that he was lying or mistaken.

Lola found Lily sitting in bed, reading a book.  Lily looked up, “Morning,” she said, as if nothing had transpired the previous night.

“Hi,” said Lo, a little shy after returning from sleeping with Lily’s uncle.  It was a novel situation.

“Have a good night?” asked Lily.

Lo couldn’t wait to ask a thousand questions of her and this provided the opening for it.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your uncle’s horse accident?”

“What was I supposed to say, ‘A horse stepped on my uncle and now he can’t get his wee-wee up’?”

“Well, no, but you could have. . .”  Lo thought for a moment.  She sat on the bed next to Lily.  “So you knew all along?”

“Knew what?”

Lo didn’t want to come across as accusatory.  She pondered how to phrase her questions.

Lily already anticipated what she was going to ask and saved her the trouble.

“I was around six or seven when he had the accident.  I remember it vividly.  Uncle Collin was always my favorite and he was always strong and vibrant and, well, just like he is now.  It was terrible to see him in pain and struggling to get around in a wheelchair.  But he has incredible determination and inner strength.  He resolved to do everything he could to bounce back from that injury even stronger than before.  I watched him, over many years, make incremental progress until he was walking, even running again.”

“It’s amazing,” said Lo.  “I never would have known that he was once confined to a wheelchair.”

“A miracle.  But as I watched him improve physically, as I grew older, I also observed his relationship with Suzanne grow estranged.  They were married about a year when the accident happened.  Since then, she hasn’t left him, but she also hasn’t been there for him.”

“Why don’t they get divorced?”

“You see all this?” responded Lily, looking around the room, “And the other house, and everything else Collin has worked his life to achieve?  She would get half of everything.”

“Oh,” said Lo.

“They don’t dislike each other.  I think they actually are good to and for each other.  But they have worked out an arrangement.  She knows that Collin is impotent.  She knows all-too-well.  So what does she care if he’s around sexy young women?”

“You mean, this happens often?”

Lily let out a little laugh at Lo’s innocent question.  “You mean me bringing sexy friends here for Uncle Collin to seduce?  There hasn’t been one yet who was able to resist his charms.  You were just the most eager.”

Lo felt a pang of confusion and betrayal.  She had been used by both Lily and Uncle Collin.  She had been played as a dupe.  It was all a front.  And not only that, she was just one in a long line of similarly situated seeming seductresses.

If Lily noticed Lo’s crushed feelings, she didn’t let on that she saw or cared.  She just continued with her story.  “I told you that my family vacations in the south of France.  As soon as I hit puberty, I noticed how I got the attention of Uncle Collin.  He never, ever was inappropriate with me, but he liked watching me.  And pretty soon, any and every girlfriend I brought home fell madly in love with him.  He is devilishly handsome, I’ll grant him that.  But he also knows exactly what to say, what to do, and how to charm the pants off people, literally.  I mean, if he wasn’t my uncle. . . ,” Lily trailed off before adding, “Well, don’t think that I haven’t fantasized about it more than once when he was in the bedroom with one of my friends.”

“But nothing happened,” protested Lo, feeling like she had to exonerate herself.

“Of course nothing happened and nothing could happen.  He can’t get it up.  When I was a little older, he told me.  He came up to me and, in his charismatic way, he asked me to bring a friend over for his ‘company.’  He was so suave and subtle about it, that I wasn’t even clear what he was asking until I had already agreed.  But then I realized, he was asking me to pimp out my girlfriends for his pleasure.”

Now Lily had put it exactly as it felt to Lo.  That was the heart of the betrayal.

“And I’m just one of your tricks?”

“Lo,” said Lily, pleading for her sympathy, “All I did was invite you here.  Everything else – letting Collin put his hand on your knee in the truck, letting him feel your breast, letting him look up your skirt in the orchard, tanning naked in front of him, jerking that guy off for Collin’s pleasure, and going to bed with him – all of that was you and your choice.”

Lo reflected for a moment, stunned.  “But,” she thought, “I might not have done all those things if you weren’t right there with me getting naked in front of your uncle.”  She didn’t say that, because she believed in personal responsibility and she wasn’t going to blame Lily for her own behavior.

“But you knew.  You knew all along.  You knew what he wanted.  Even when you called to invite me here, you knew.  You were scheming.  You were a coconspirator,” Lo blurted out, giving vent to the emotions bubbling up in her.

“Yes, I knew all along.  I even told Uncle Collin that he would like you more than any of the others.  That he better watch out that he doesn’t fall in love.  He laughed.  But he was curious.  I’m sure that’s why he showed up at the mountain resort unexpectedly.  He just couldn’t wait to meet you and see you with his own eyes.”

“You mean, even before he met me, you were pushing me on him?”  Lo felt violated.

“Lo,” said Lily, “you’re in a half-open a relationship, you’re a proud hotwife, you take delight in flirting with and seducing married men, and you love showing off your body.  In my mind, you two were made for each other.  Tell the truth.  After you met Collin, were you not eager to see him again?  You sounded pretty thrilled to be invited here, and not just to get the fresh country air.”

Lo knew she was right, but something was not sitting well with her.

“What about Suzanne?” asked Lo.  “She doesn’t get jealous?”

“I told you,” she said, “they have an arrangement.”

Lo knew that Suzanne was not interested in women.  She definitely got that sense.  But what was this ‘arrangement’?

She asked, “You keep saying that, but what’s that mean?”

Lily took a deep breath and let out a long sigh.  “Lo, the world is weird all over and stranger the deeper you delve.”

If Lo had a Netflix show