99 Problems: A Valentine’s Day Tale

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

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

Lola’s Good Cheer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lola’s present for Daddy

“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.

“You know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

“Show me!  Let me drink your eggnog.”

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

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

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

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

“Be happy?”

“No, deep, deep inside me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lo gushes for her mechanical lover

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

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

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

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something Lo.  What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”

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

Lo and ‘Glindo’

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

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

“What are you open to doing?”

“You.”

“Now?”

“Well, after I do myself.”

“Again?”

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

“While you jill it?”

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

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

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

“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”

She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.

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

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

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

“I mean a free book for fans.”

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

“That’s a great idea!”

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

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

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

Be My Valentine

Sore, but not Satisfied

We watched Boogie Nights up until the scene where the newbie pornstar, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg) is filmed by the seasoned director, Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), making love to his wife, Maggie/“Amber Waves” (Julianne Moore).  At that point, Lo was too turned on from watching the movie while cock-warming me to continue.  We retired into the bedroom where she proceeded to ask me, “I bet you’d like to film me auditioning all those men who want to be pornstars, wouldn’t you Daddy?”

“I thought you were sore?” I asked her, referring to her masturbation marathon earlier in the day.

“Sore, but not satisfied.  Fuck me.  I like it when it hurts.”

I slid in her slippery snatch and she moaned with pleasure and pain.

“I think you’d like to be auditioning them,” I responded to her.

By the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head, I could tell that the image of her being the older seductress, seducing young, aspiring actors, getting them to break through the role and into the authentic enjoyment of her body, was turning her on.

While her fantasyland role was screening in the adult theater of her dark and dirty mind, my own thoughts were scrawling across my cerebrum.  Since I had cum on my own earlier that day, my stamina was augmented.  I had plenty of time, while Lo bounced up-and-down on my rod to the beat of her own drum, to explore the following musings.

I began with Boogie Nights and the thought of how, yes, Lo was right, I could easily see myself in the role of the director, Jack Horner, filming his own wife as she slept with various pornstars.  Turning her lustful liaisons into works of art was already my forte.  My mind then turned to the late, great Orson Welles and his love affair infatuation with Oja – his muse, mistress, and movie star of films such as F for Fake, and The Other Side of the Wind.  A documentary about the making of the latter movie came out a couple years ago and in it, those who were on set with Welles recalled how he wanted to film, at great length, a pornographic sex scene starring Oja with Robert Random (actual actor’s name).  Perhaps the aging Welles (he was between 55 and 61 while making it) took delight in seeing his young mistress (she was between 24 and 30 while making it) getting delight from a younger man who could give it to her.  Sounds familiar.

“Deeper, Daddy, please,” she whined as she rode me, startling me out of my musings.

I opened my eyes and saw her pulling at her nipples over me.  “Am I your pornstar?” she asked.

I tried to meet her descending hips with ascending thrusts of my own.  She needed to feel the tip of my shaft on that magic spot deep inside her.  If I were larger, longer, harder, I would press that button without even trying.  But, alas, that was not the case.

Frankie Shaw

 

Frankie Shaw

 

Frankie Shaw using her Instagram to expose herself

Her question turned my thoughts from directors making their muses the material of art, to that wannabe pornstar who used her creative powers of writer, director, and actor to live out her clear fantasy of being fucked on camera.  Frankie Shaw, in her series SMILF, used every opportunity to get naked, get laid, and get herself off in her show.  I wondered how her husband, Zach Strauss, enjoyed watching her perform completely gratuitous sex scenes on the show.  Let’s be clear, none of her sexpoloits were essential to the story – from her fantasy gangbang in the pilot where she is fucked by a basketball team of black men, to her seducing the boy she babysat, to the creepy scenes of her naked in a bathtub with her fictional child.  None of that advanced the plot in a way that it couldn’t have done without those scenes.  But, given the creative license she had, she used it to be as licentious as she could, making her the star – the pornstar.

Frankie Shaw from her Instagram being exhibitionist in her neighborhood during COVID

Lo wasn’t cumming.  She got up, off of me and commanded, “Get behind me and fuck me, hard!”  She was on all fours on the bed and needed me to stand up, perpendicular to her, as she looked in the full-length mirror before her, watching us fuck, as she might watch a porno.

“Come on, Daddio!  Really ram it home,” she called over her shoulder.

I thrust at her with all I had.  I was panting, sweating, wondering if my back was going to be sore for a week.

Mercifully, she began to cum.  I could feel her pussy clenching, preparing to eject me and ejaculate.  Her voice was insistent.  “Cum!  Cum!” she demanded, knowing that there were mere seconds left before I wouldn’t be able to remain deep inside her.

Enjoy your erotic reading.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

“Inmeinmeinmeinme!”

I don’t do well with cumming on command.  If she had said, “Whatever you do, don’t cum,” then there would have been no problem.  Besides, I had, at her recommendation, already cum once that day.  I was near my limit.

Frankie Shaw gets nailed by the boy she baby sat in SMILF

It was already too late.  The torrent had been unleashed.  The spillage had gushed down her legs and now the dam was about to break, flooding me right out of her.

Frankie Shaw stars in a porno

Her legs were quivering and she was pounding the bed with her fist as she screamed “FUCK!  FUCK!  FUCK!”

I backed up and watched the demonic possession take hold as she lost control of her faculties, senses, bodily movements, and sanity.

Her orgasms are simultaneously a full-body and out-of-body experience.  They are sublime to watch, in the full sense of that word: terrifyingly beautiful.

The bed covers were drenched; her body lifeless on top of the mess she had made.

Frankie dreams of Lola

Scene from SMILF
Not necessary, Right?
How did this get approved?

 

Slowly, her breathing steadied and resumed regularity.

She rolled over as if she had been hit by a Mac truck.

“Wow!” was all she said.  And then, a little while later, “I won’t be able to walk, sit, or cross my legs tomorrow!”

Frankie Shaw getting off to Lola Down

“I guess you’ll just have to lie in bed all day.”

“That’s ok, it’s my favorite place to be and my favorite position.”

She got off the bed and began cleaning up the sodden bedding, throwing all of it in the laundry basket.

“Feeling better?”

“You didn’t cum,” she had the gall to complain.

“I did, just not with you.”  I knew that remark would piss her off.

She gritted her teeth and growled at me.

“You told me to fuck Stoya, remember?”

“But on these short days in January, I really needed an injection of vitamin D, if you know what I mean.”

“It would have just come out in the wash anyhow.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

She thought for a moment.  “I like to have the power to make you ejaculate on command.”

“Talk about a control freak.  I did ejaculate on command – your first command.  You told me to jack off while you masturbated to oblivion.”

“But I thought you knew the Golden Rule: Love thy woman as thyself.”

“Oh, is that the rule?  I thought you said it was: Love thyself and often.”

“That’s my rule.  Not yours.”

“So, why did you tell me to go away instead of letting me watch?”

“Well, you made me jealous when looking at all those women.”

You’re the one who wanted to look at them with me!”

“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissively.  “I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Oh, so it had nothing to do with being turned on by them?”

“There was that too.  But now I feel so slutty.”

“You should.”

“No, Daddy.  I mean, not only was I cheating on you. . .”

“It’s not really ‘cheating’ if I know about it and condone it.”

“I was corresponding with a guy online.”

“Today?”

“Yeah, well, like every day.”

“And?”

“His name is John.  I call him my internet boyfriend.”

“I think you mentioned him to me.”

“And I was cheating on him with another guy.  Or maybe I was cheating on the other guy with John.  I don’t know.  It all gets so confusing.”

“Let me see your other boyfriends.”

She showed me their cumtribute photos.

“Looks like I have stiff competition!”

Lola

Masturbation Marathon

Lo and I were in the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch.  She was looking at her phone.  I sat with my laptop open, reading emails, when suddenly, up popped an email in our shared account.  Unlike most of our fan mail, it wasn’t directed to Lo, it was addressed to me.  And it had a few photos attached.  Sexy photos.  Of my female fan.

“What are you looking at?” Lo asked, never one to be unobservant.

“Nothing,” I clumsily lied.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“Just an email,” I said, telling the truth, trying to pass it off as nothing.

“Let me see,” she said, scooting over, closer to me, suspicious.

How does she do that?  How does she know when something is amiss?

My heart was racing.  She gets so jealous.

There was nothing to do but give in to the inevitable.

I showed her the email and the photos.

“Nothing huh?  Who is she?”

“I don’t know.  I really don’t.  Just a fan.  A connoisseur of fine literature.  A grateful reader.  A woman of exquisite taste in art.”

“You really don’t know who she is?”

“I swear.”

“She just wrote to you for the first time?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t carried on a correspondence with her?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“You like her?”
“What do you mean, like her?”
“You find her attractive?”

That is a very dangerous question.  The female author of the epistle in question was, in point of fact, appealing.  As her missive made clear, she was a wife and mother whose sex life had fallen fallow in the past few years as the children occupied more of her time and energy.  But reading about my sex life with Lola had rekindled something deep down inside her and she just wanted to show me exactly where it was rekindled.

“She’s not unattractive,” I said, attempting to be as neutral as possible.

“Let’s play a little game,” said Lo.  I was quizzical.  “I’ll go through photos of our fans and you tell me if you find them sexy.  But let’s do it in the bedroom.”

“What?”

“Yeah, just be honest,” she said as she walked down the hall.

“Are you trying to get me deeper in the hole?” I asked, following behind her.

“Depends on which hole you mean.”

GULP.

“Let’s start,” she said as she took out her computer and went to her special stash of emails and photos.  She unzipped my pants and grabbed onto my flaccid member as she pulled up photo after photo.  Honestly, I was too scared to get hard.

After about five or ten, she paused and looked at me a moment.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Lo, you know perfectly well what’s wrong.  For years now, you’ve made the nature of our relationship clear.  Now you want me to look at other women?  I think that I’m being set-up.”

“No no no,” she said with a smile.  “I’m just feeling like changing things up a bit.”

“You know, I could get just as hard looking at photos of men who’ve sent you cumtributes.”

“Well, maybe I’ll throw in a few of those as well.  But don’t be bashful.  Let’s keep on playing.”

She scrolled through scores of sexy photos and, for each one she gave me a bit of backstory, telling me the names of each woman and a bit of bio.

“That’s Floss,” she said.

“Yes, I know Floss,” I responded as she went through photo after sexy photo of her.

Floss and Match, Cinder & Spark

“And this is Karla.”

“I know Karla too.  In fact I wrote about her.”

Just Floss

“Yes, that’s right.  Did you know her hubby, Chris, gets off to me when he has her at home?”

Karla and Chris

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“This is the author, Larry Archer’s wife.”

“Is she a fan?”

“I don’t know, but I’m a fan of hers. . . and his!”

“And this is. . .”  The list went on-and-on.  With each new set of photos that Lo opened from her password-protected fap file, she grew a little more excited.  If she was a guy (and she sure acts like one), she would have had a raging hard-on at this point.  I have no doubt that her clit was fully tumid.  She was reaching for it.

Karla over the years

Karla’s husband Chris getting off to Lola

“Um, can you give me a minute?” she asked.

“What?”

“Here,” she said, passing me the Stoya Destroya vagina.  “You can use this if you want to wank.  But only use my photos.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna have me a wank too.”

“But you want me to leave.”

“Yeah, is that ok?”

“Um no.  Not really.”

Larry Archer’s wife

“Just give me a little while.”

She got out of bed to escort me to the door as she got out of her clothes.  She put her panties on the doorknob as if she had a paramour over, but it was just her and her fingers, toys, and binders full of women.

I went back to the living room, confused, carrying my vagina.  Well, Stoya’s vagina.  Carrying a vagina.

I returned to the bedroom and knocked on the door furtively.

“What?” she asked, not opening the door.

“Lube,” I said.  “You didn’t give me the lube.”

The door opened a crack.  I saw her standing naked.  She looked good.  Her arm extended, dropping the tube of lube in my hands.

“OK?” she asked, shutting the door.

Stoya front, Lola back

I walked away again.

Finding my way onto the couch, I began writing – this story.

Lo’s orgasmic arias were audible throughout the house.  They rose and fell, crescendo, decrescendo.  So many ups and downs I lost count.  I looked at the vagina sitting next to me and said, “It’s bad enough she needs more from me.  Don’t you just sit there and look despondent at me that she’s getting all the action.  It’s not my fault you don’t have arms, hands, or fingers to help yourself out.”

Finally, I made use of Stoya, more for her sake than mine.  She looked so sad there.

I came, one brief onanistic climax, looking at Lo’s photos on the internet while Lo, in the flesh, was having a grand old time fucking herself just down the hallway.  I got up to do the proper aftercare cleaning of Stoya in the second bathroom and saw Lo’s panties still prominently displayed on the doorknob as Lo went at it.

I returned to the couch and took a long nap.

I was woken up by the feeling of Lo’s lips on my flaccid cock.

“What are you doing?”

“Cock-warming,” she said as she lay naked on the couch between my legs, looking up at me.

“You want something?”

“No, Daddy.”

“No?”

“I’m sore.”

“What the hell was going on in there?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I started off jilling to the women I was showing you, but then I was into the cumtributes I’ve been getting.  I’m such a slut.”

“Agreed.”

“No, you don’t know why I’m saying that.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, I guess it’s bad enough that I am not faithful to you.”

“I don’t mind. . . usually.”

“But I have a sort of internet boyfriend.”

“What is that?”

“You know, like a work wife or a work husband.”

“You mean when people become overly chummy with people they work with?”

“Yeah, like that, but in my case, it’s with people I’ve met online.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I’ve been cheating on one of them with another guy.”

“I’m sure they don’t expect monogamy from you, dear.”

“Yeah, they’re both married themselves.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“That’s just it!”

“What?”

“Do you think I have a problem?”

“Other than being a nymphomaniacal, egomaniacal hotwife attention whore?”

“Yeah, other than that.”

“No, not at all.”

“Really?”

John Doe shrine to Lola

“If your biggest problem is that you’re sexting with someone behind the back of your long-distance lover while shutting me out of the bedroom so you can fist-fuck yourself because you’re turned on by your fandom, well, hey, we all should be that lucky!”

John Doe gets of to Lo

“I love you, Daddy,” she said, before returning to cock-warming me.

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.  What?”

Northerngentleman

“How about Boogie Nights?  Have you ever seen it?”

Northerngentleman cums in his wife’s panties.

“No.”

“Oh, then you’re in for a treat.”

  • Photos used with permission.

Sweet Charity

Wedded Bliss

It was late and all through the house not a creature was stirring, only Lo, clicking her mouse.

I was on my side of the bed, facing away from Lo, but I could feel the side of her thigh up against my back and the gentle rocking of the bed.  I gave it a minute, or twenty.  But when the motions didn’t cease and the moans increased, I rolled over to face her.

She was sitting up in bed, naked, her legs bent at the knees, one of them had been resting against me.  Her computer was between her legs, as one of her hands manipulated it and the other manipulated her clit.  The thin white strings of her earbuds dangled over her bare breasts on their way to their hidden nooks under her thick dark hair.

“Daddy,” she complained, as if my rolling over interrupted her activities.

“You know I’m trying to sleep here, Lo, right?”

“Just a couple more minutes,” she said without taking her eyes away from the screen.  “I’m getting close.”  Her voice was unusually loud because of the sounds kept out by the earbuds and their volume in her ears.

“Your onanistic sessions are taking longer and longer,” I observed.

“Shhhh,” she hissed, unconsciously.  I don’t even know if she heard what I said.

I rolled back on my side, away from her in order to allow her her privacy while she finished.  She seemed put off by my lack of interest.

“Daddy.”

“What?”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m looking at?”

I was going to be informed either way I answered so I said, “Yes, Lo, what is it that has you all riled up?”

“My friend Sam.”

“Sam?  Who’s Sam?”
“I told you.  He and his wife are big fans.”

“OK.”

“Well, he just wrote to me.  You want to hear what he said?”

“I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“I’m on the edge too.”

“What did Sam say?”

“He said: ‘I had a sex dream about you the other night. We were having sex in my bed, next to Alia as she slept, and I came inside you four times before I woke up with a major hard-on and had to stroke to you until I came for real.’ And you know what I said?”

“What?”

“‘I’m so flattered!  It would feel soooo good to have you cum inside me four times!  I’d be oozing your cum all day.  Did you tell Alia about your dream?’”

“OK, and he said?”

“He said, ‘I didn’t tell Alia about the dream. It never came up.  I did use her as a cumdump last night though.  I was reading through your posts and got super horny, but she wasn’t in the mood for sex, so I asked her if she would mind if I came inside her pussy and she was fine with that.  I was so horny from reading about you that it only took maybe 30 seconds of pounding her before I blew my load deep inside her.  It was so hot using her as a cumdump.  I really enjoy giving women pleasure, but sometimes it’s nice to focus just on my own pleasure.’  Isn’t that hot?”

“Cumdump” Alia getting herself off to Match, Cinder & Spark

As she asked, her orgasm began to take over her body, causing her to twitch and convulse.  She moved her laptop just fast enough to avoid squirting on it.  I grabbed it from her and viewed the photos Sam had sent accompanying his little virtual postcard to Lo.

Alia

When Lo was done, she got up (and got me up) to change the soaking sheets.

“Sam says that Alia wants to be more like you.”

“I know!  Isn’t it flattering?”

“Lola Down – inspiring hotwives everywhere.”

“I like that.  Did you just think of it?”

Sam & Alia inspired by Lola

“A stroke of genius.”

“Did you say stroke?”

“I did, but not with the meaning that Sam has for stroke.”

“Can I stroke you, Daddy?” she asked, getting into the newly made bed with me and grabbing my cock.

“You still want more?”

“I’ve yet to find my upper limit when it comes to sex.”
“Fine.  Turn on your back and spread your legs.”

If there was a male equivalent to what Sam described his wife, Alia, as – a “cumdump” – then I was it.  I was a prop for Lo’s pussy to palpitate upon.

I was balls-deep into her soaked, sloppy pussy.  Her secretions slathered me from my crotch to my knees.  She was so slippery at this point that I could hardly feel anything as I repeated the motions that turned on her spigot.

“I want you to gift me,” she said, breathing heavily.

“What?” I asked, looking down at her face as it contorted with pleasure.  Her eyes were shut and she was clearly envisioning something with her imagination.

“Instead of just passively giving permission for me to fuck other people, I want you to give me —- as a gift.”

“To whom?”

“Anyone.”

She came yet again as she said it.

I pulled out, allowing her body to recover.  The sheets were drenched.  Her puss was gaped.  Her breaths were deep, long, and loud.

“Why’d you stop?” she eventually queried.

How to tell her that her extreme arousal made fucking her indistinguishable from dipping my cock in a widemouthed jar full of warm water?

“I’m old,” I said.  “I need a break.”  Not a lie, but maybe not the whole truth.

“That’s why I want you to gift me,” she replied.  “If you can’t handle me, then might as well give me to someone who can.”

“Can’t handle you, or can’t satisfy you?” I asked.

“A little from column A, a little from column B.”

“How about you gift me your ass and I’ll show you a column that will satisfy you, if you can handle it.”

“I thought you said you need a break.”

“Breaktime is over.  Show me the back door and I’ll get to it in the workroom.”

“Nah,” she said, nonchalantly.

“What do you mean, nah?”

“Not today, ole man.”

“But you ‘gift’ your ass to the brothers and they don’t ask, or even beg like I do.”

“I do that for you.”

“How is it for me?”

“It makes you jealous.  It’s practically the only thing I can do to make you jealous.  And when I don’t allow you to have my ass, it makes you even more jealous.”

“You know me too well.”

“Why do you want my ass so badly?”

Rather than tell her the actual reason – that her pussy had become too much of a bath for me, I said, “It’s like Peter Gabriel sings.”

“What?”

“Don’t you know the song?” I asked.  Her perplexed look indicated I had to recite it for her:

 

In your ass
The light, the heat
In your ass
I am complete
In your ass
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
In your ass
The resolution of all the fruitless searches
In your ass
I see the light and the heat
In your ass
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat I see in your ass

“I don’t think those are the lyrics,” she said, laughing.

“Close enough.  Now show me the doorway to a thousand churches.”

“Do you have the church key?”

“That I do!”

“Fine, but only because you’re such a fool.”

“If that’s what it takes to have your ass, then I’ll be the court jester!”

“Hurry up and use your bauble and jingle your bells,” she said, rolling on her tum and spreading her ass cheeks for me.

Lo’s Temple of Venus

I slid right in and she repeated, “I want you to gift me.”

“Give you away, like a father giving away his daughter, the bride.”

“Oh my God, that would be even better.”

“What would?”

“If I wore a white wedding gown.”

“Maybe I could give you away in a church.  We’d call it Christmas charity.”

“FUCK!!!  I’m cumming. . . in my ass!”

Unlike her pussy, which squeezes me out when she squirts, her ass clenches, but just enough to make it feel even better, but not evict me.  She sprayed the newly replaced sheets beneath her as I ejaculated deep in her orifice.

I slid out of her slowly, taking my sweet time.

Wedding Shower

She was lying in her own puddle, panting.

“Are you going to clean me off or. . .”

“Come here,” she said, not moving.

I put my cock in front of her open mouth.  She took it in and sucked it clean.

“That’s my good girl.”

She smiled.

Giving Away the Bride

Sticky Fingers

Work on Top, Party on Bottom

“MmmmmHmmmm. . .  Yeah. . . That’s right.  Yesssss.”

These are the words I heard Lo saying as I walked in the door for lunch.  I turned the corner and entered the living room where I saw Lo at her makeshift home office desk in front of the open window that looks out onto the street from our apartment.  She was business on top, naked on bottom.  Her legs were spread.  She had a small oscillating personal fan on the floor under her desk blowing on her bare mons Veneris.  She held her phone with her left hand and was stroking her air-cooled puss with her right.  There was a small puddle on the hard wood floor beneath her task chair.

She looked over her shoulder at me and interrupted her self-pleasure just long enough to communicate to me in primitive sign language that the computer screen in front of her, on her desk, was on for a Zoom call with work.  She covered up the speaker of her phone and whispered, “It’s on mute.”

“You sure about that?” I asked.

She gave me the finger before going back to finger herself.

“MmmmmHmmmm.  Yeah, I’m here.  Yeah.  Tell me again what you are doing.”

I walked away from the sight and left her to her own coping strategy for remote work.

I was on a mission: Lunch.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed some bread, lettuce, tomato, and. . .

“FUUUUUKKK!”

I dropped everything.  Startled for a moment that Lo fell off her chair or that she lost all her work on her computer, I stopped cold in my tracks.  Then I quickly recalled what she was up to in the living room.

I walked in to find Lo in the same spot, larger puddle under chair, phone hung up, and her panting.

I looked out the windows onto the street and there definitely were people looking into the building trying to ascertain the source of the alarming scream.

“Lo,” I began to rebuke her.

“Get me a paper towel, a mop, something!”

I returned with a whole roll of paper towels.

“Can you clean it up?” she asked.

“What?”

“Can you clean it up?  Just stay out of sight of the camera.  I’m still on this Zoom call for work.”

“Multitasking?”

“Yeah, I’m very talented.”

I surreptitiously got on my hands and knees and cleaned up the mess under her chair.

“This is all from you?” I asked, incredulous.

“Well, I started with an ice cube on my puss, then in my puss.  But it melted.  The rest, yeah.  An artesian spring.”

“Maybe we should bottle that stuff. We could make more money than San Pellegrino.”

“Shhhh, I have to unmute.”

She clicked a button and then said, “Yes,” in a very professional voice – so different than the voice she was using with her paramour.  “I think that sounds good,” she said to some pixilated person in the ether.

I took the wet towels and left Lo to her work.

As I sat eating my sandwich and drinking a cold beverage, Lo sauntered into the room, still pantless.

“Thanks Daddio,” she said, sitting across from me.

I grunted and continued to chew.

She could tell I was displeased with what I found.  She tried to explain it away.  “It’s just so hot in here.  I don’t have central air like you at your office.  I had to improvise.  The fan and the ice cube helped.”

“And your phone-a-friend?”

“Well, that Zoom call was just so long and boring!”

“It’s called ‘work,’ Lo.  Not every moment of every day is filled with magic pixie dust and populated with penises for your own personal pleasure party.”

“Oh, but why not?” she asked in her little girl voice.

“Who was on the call?”

“Who do you think?”

“Robert.”

“Nope.”

“One of the brothers.”

“Nope.”

“Both of the brothers.”

“Wrong again.”

“MILF Meri.”

“Getting warmer.”

“I’m out of guesses and I’m almost out of time and patience.”

“Oh, you’re no fun!  It was Scott.”

“Scott?!  MILF Meri’s husband?”

“One and the same.”

“You called him or he called you?”

“Neither.”

“Someone called somebody.”

“Well, he sent me an email and asked if I could talk.”

“Did you talk or did you listen?”

“A little of both, Daddio.  You wanna know what was said?”

“I know what you’re up to and I’m going to tell you, I have to get back to work.  No hanky-panky.”

“You use the oddest, oldest phrases.”

“I’m odd and old, so I can get away with it.”

“Well, you’re going to have to wait anyhow.  I have to hop on another Zoom call.”

“You going to put on your pants?”

“What’s the matter, don’t you think work on top, party on the bottom is home-office appropriate?”

“Is this call for work, or are you sex-camming with an admirer?”

“I told you, I don’t do that anymore.”

“Well, the times, they are a changing.”

“Would you like it if I went back to it?”

“I’ve told you, Lo, you’re free to do whom or what you want whenever you want.”

“I know, Daddio, but I like to hear you say you want me to.”

“Would you do it?” I asked.

“Oh, gotta dash!” she said, returning to her makeshift desk.

She sat back down and I let myself out of the house to return to work without interrupting her work or pleasure call.

I wasn’t back at the office for more than ten minutes before I got a frantic call from her.  “Daddy, Daddy!”

“What’s the matter Lo?”

“I need you!”

“Is this a mid-day booty call?  Because I just. . .”

“No,” she interrupted, “come home right away!”

I returned to the house as quickly as I could and I found Lo on the living room couch, her panties around her ankles, her right hand on her pussy.

“Lo,” I said, suspiciously.  “What’s this all about?”

“I’m stuck.”

“What?”

“I’m stuck.”

“How’s that?”

“I accidentally broke the handle off of my favorite teacup and I was trying to fix it with superglue.”

I’m a little teacup

At that moment I noticed the cup and the superglue tube on the coffee table in front of her.

“And?”

“And somehow my index finger got stuck to my clit!”

“Somehow?”

“This is not the time to tease.”

“I’m not teasing.  I just don’t know how that’s possible.”

“It’s very possible.”

“Only if your diddling the bean while engaged in a repair job.  Were you diddling the bean?”

“That’s not the right question now.”

“Seems like a very pertinent question.”

“The question is how I unstick myself.”

“Maybe I should just let you stay stuck.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she growled, anger in her eyes.

“I might.”

“Grrrrr!”

“I might even invite the neighbors over.  Maybe I’ll charge five dollars admission.  ‘See the nympho who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar!’” I feigned being a circus barker.

“You’re mean and cruel.  I don’t know why I love you.”

“You love me because I’m mean and cruel and I’m the only person on this planet who puts up with your hijinks.”

“What are you going to do about this?” she asked, indicating her sticky situation.

“Let me look up home remedies for girls who superglue their fingers to their clit.”  I pulled out my computer and added, “Or maybe I should post on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram and ask the hivemind what they think.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Woudn’t I?”

I Googled it.

“Do you have nail polish remover?”

“Why?”

“It says to soak a cotton ball in nail polish remover and apply to the stuck spot.”

“DON’T YOU DARE apply nail polish remover to my clit!!!”

“No?”

“NO!!!”

“OK.  Let me look up other remedies.”

I continued searching.  “Ah-ha!  You’re in luck!”

“What’s it say?”

“There are two mildly erotic ways we can go about undoing your masturbatory mess.”

“I wasn’t masturbating!”

“Of course you weren’t.”

“What’s it say?”

“We could either soak you in a nice warm bath with some soap.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Or, apply some vegetable oil to the affected area.”

“Hmmmm, that could be fun too!”

“Let’s do a little of both.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Follow me.”

I led her to the bathroom and got her in the empty bath.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed some vegie oil and returned to her, dripping it on her hand and pussy, soaking both.

Then I turned on the warm water and let it fill up the bath.  It only took a few minutes before she was unstuck.  I poured more oil over her pussy and slid my fingers over her clit.

“Is this where you were stuck?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“How’s that feel?”

“Good Daddy.”

I slid in a finger.  Then another.  Then three.  Then four.  Then my thumb as well.  They all slipped right in without resistance.

Lo moaned.

“What were you doing?”

“When, Daddy?”

“When you got so attached to yourself.”

“I did it unconsciously.  I didn’t even know I was touching myself.  I swear.”

She reached down and pushed my hand from the wrist.  In it slipped, a full fist inside her pussy.

“Yeah, Daddy.  That’s it.”

The water was up around her ankles.  She slowly stood up in the bath and bent over, keeping me inside her the whole time.

“Put your other hand in,” she said.

I slowly wedged my left hand in until it was clasped with my right hand inside her pussy.

“Have you ever been double-fisted before?”

“Noooooooo,” she said, cooing.

Her hips were rhythmically rocking forward and back, humping my two hands until she came.  I felt her Kegel muscles clench, but, unlike when my cock is in her, she couldn’t possibly squeeze my hands out with her orgasm.  I waited until she was good and done before I slid them out slowly.

“That was fun,” she said, sitting down in the bath, putting her legs up on the wall, letting the water splash down on her pussy.

“You may go now,” she said dismissively as she let the waterfall bring her to another climax.

I didn’t leave though.  I dropped my pants and did what she always longs for me to do.  I stroked my cock, using the vegetable oil as a lubricant.   I stroked it over her naked body as she let the water run over her clit.

“You know,” I said, “Cleopatra used to bathe in a bath filled by her slaves with semen.”

“You’re so hot,” she said.

“I bet you’d like to have enough men surrounding you, stroking to the sight of your naked body, to fill your bath with their warm, pearly cum.”

“You know me too well, but right now, if you’d give me just enough for a nice facial, I’d be a happy girl.”

I needed no further encouragement.  I provided the beauty cream she requested and she, in turn, reached orgasm #3.

“There’s nothing like learning history while masturbating,” she said.

“I hate to break it to you, but that story of Cleopatra is an urban myth.”

“Really?!”

“Sad, but true.  Its origins are unknown.”

“Hmm,” she said, pensively.

“What?”

“I wonder if two thousand years from now stories about me will make a loving couple orgasm together.”

“If the reports of your contemporaries are any indication, then, yes, it’s very likely.”

“Good.  Maybe they’ll report that you were able to fill up the tub with your semen single handedly just by looking at my face.”

“It sure feels that way.”

“I’m sure it does, to you anyhow.”

Wet

Grist for the Mill

Tanning while reading Match, Cinder & Spark

Strolling through the park on a bright summer’s afternoon.  “What a glorious day,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said lasciviously.

I looked at her eyes and followed her line of sight.  She was watching two sunbathers.

“Lo, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, Daddy, I just can’t wait to get home and bang you,” she said while biting her lower lip.

The female sunbather turned over, revealing that she was wearing merely a thong.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, accusatorily.

“Darling, the difference between you and I is that I am an aesthete.”

She rolled her eyes.  “This again?”

“And you are a hedonist.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Quite so.”

“What makes me a hedonist for looking at the exact same thing you were looking at?”

“I was looking at the entire composition of the sun, the clouds, the green grass, the spatial relations of the various persons and trees upon the sward, the mathematical ratio of the low lying buildings to the rectangular outline of the park’s boundary.  I could go on.”

“I’m sure you could, you pompous ass-thete!”

“While you, my dear,” I continued, ignoring her invective interruption, “were simply thinking about the heat of the sun, the cool of the breeze, the tingling between your legs stimulated by the physical appearance of those two bodies over there, going home, fucking and eating.  That’s what makes you a hedonist and me an aesthete.”

“You are unbearable!”

“Why do you take such offense?”

“Because you’re basically saying that I’m a simpleton with animalistic cravings and you are a cerebral demigod!”

“Darling, but don’t you see – that’s why we’re are made for each other.  You admire that about me and I admire you for your primal desires.  You wish you could be more like me and I wish I could be more like you.  That is the law of attraction.”

“Primal desires?!”

“I don’t mean it in a value-laden sense.  It’s merely descriptive.  As the great philosophers of Utilitarianism – Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill. . .”

“Oh boy, here we go!”

“As the originators of that philosophy of pleasure, Bentham, in contrast to Mill, put no greater weight on the enjoyment derived from eating bonbons than that derived from reading Balzac.”

“If you could shut up for ten minutes, I’d love to eat your sword and fondle your ball sack.”

“Darling, when I said ‘sward’ earlier, it was with an ‘A,’ meaning a green pasture.  And the Balzac to which I just now referred was to the French author Honoré de. . .”

“Please, please give it a rest!”

“All I’m saying is that the utils that you get from. . .”

“The what?”

“Utils.  The unit of measurement of pleasure in Utilitarianism.”

“Oh, back to that are we?”

“The utils that you get from seeing a curvaceous and scantily clad female are no better or worse than the utils I derive from viewing a Kandinsky painting.  I’m much more sympathetic to Bentham’s egalitarian theory than Mill’s hierarchy of pleasures.”

“Really?  You?  Mr. aristocrat himself?”

“If, by ‘aristocrat,’ you mean that I subscribe to a ranking of merit, then guilty as charged.  But one can excel in merit while still deriving pleasure from the simplest of things.”

“You are such an asshole!”

“But if pressed,” I said, again overlooking her impulsive outburst, “I would have to admit that I do not subscribe to Utilitarianism at all.”

“OK, I’ll bite.  What do you subscribe to?”

“I think Nietzsche understood that humans are not such simplistic beings as brute beasts, merely out to diminish pain and increase pleasure.  Observation of any great artist shows that the highest exemplars of the human race make great sacrifices and endure terrible suffering for the sake of art.”

“Oh, and what sacrifices and sufferings have you had to endure?”

“The subheading of our blog is ‘the trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.’”

I am the source of your suffering?!”

“The source of my art, and thereby, the source of the suffering that I go through for it.”

“What suffering is that?  Having sex with a goddess multiple times a day?”

“No, no, no dear.  It’s the, the, um, creative process.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like this conversation, for instance.  It’s all just grist for the mill.”

“So, conversing with me is a source of suffering for you?”

“No, no.  You take my meaning all wrong.”

“I really don’t see another possible interpretation.”

At this point, we were at our front door.  Just as we arrived, a sun-shower began.

“What a weird season,” said Lo.  “It’s wet like spring, hot like summer, and beautiful like autumn.”

“You just described yourself: wet, hot, and beautiful.”

Lola Down – Wet, Hot, and Beautiful

“What about smart?”

“Lo, you know how I admire your intelligence.”

“Do I?  You just performed an oral dissertation about how I am a hedonist given over to carnal desires.”

“There’s wisdom in that.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are wise beyond words.”

“I know what you’re saying.  You wish I’d shut up and you could simply enjoy my beauty without having to listen to me talk.  You think you’re so smart.”

“No.  I’m just wise beyond your years.”

“I don’t need your stamp of approval.  I know I’m smart,” she said with a grin indicating just how content she was with herself.

“Then why do you get so upset when I talk?”

“Because you say the dumbest things.”

I must have looked mortally wounded by her words because she followed that up with, “I mean that with love.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“The dumbest things for someone so intelligent.  That’s what I meant.”

Once we were inside, I sat down at my computer to transcribe this little conversation of ours.  She was in the bedroom, naked no doubt.  She hollered down the hall for me to join her.

“Can’t you see I’m writing?  Why do you keep distracting me?” I called back.

“You think that life is just writing and that everything else is a distraction.”

I heard the quiet purr of her Hitachi start up, followed by her moans of pleasure.

When I had completed the reporting of our peripatetic discourse, I sauntered down the hall to check on her, following the sounds of her self-copulatory female vocalizations.

Her right hand held the mechanism between her legs as her left held her phone and scrolled through various images.

Lo’s Little Friend

I turned to leave.

“Hey,” she called to me, “where are you going?”

“It seems that you have matters well in hand,” I said.  “You give no indication of needing assistance.”

“For many species, masturbation is the mating call,” she responded.

“Oh, so you want me?”

“If your superior intellect can deign to do me – a mere mortal full of base desires.”

“Like the immaterial Nous infusing the nether pleroma with its animating spirit.”

I had penetrated her as I spoke those words.

“You’re lucky I’m such a sapiosexual, or else I’d take offense at that,” she said, looking up at me.  “But the mere fact that you not only know what those terms mean, but can use them when fucking turns me on.  And, I might add, your emanation is hardly immaterial.”

Within moments she had reached the apogee of her venereal excitement.

I slowly removed my sword from her scabbard and stood over her recovering body.

“What?” she asked.  “You’re not going to cum?”

“That was strictly for your pleasure, my dear,” I said.

“You got nothing from it?” she asked, insulted.

“Your enjoyment gives me satisfaction.  Now, back to my writing.”

“Good grief!  You’re lucky you have me or you’d have nothing to write about except ideas!”

Cum-Covered

Later that day, a friend sent an email asking, “How are you two?”

Lo responded, “We’re doing fine.  HH is writing.  I’m masturbating.  Once in a while he puts down his pen and picks up his penis and gives it to me.  But mostly he gives me his stories to edit.”

I turned to her and said, “You know, my writing makes you immortal.”

“And my body makes you mortal.”

“Are you saying that without your body I’d live forever?”

“No, I’m saying that without my body, you wouldn’t even live once.”

Rear Windows

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She was dressed up in a blue dress and strappy wedges, looking like she was someone’s blue belle.

Blue Belle Lo

“I’m going to meet Meri.”

“Where this time?”

“Oh, her house,” she let fall from her lips as if that were no big deal.

“Her house?!” I asked, concerned.  “In COVID Times?”

“Don’t worry, silly.  We’ll be at a safe social distance from one another.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“When I’m older you’ll have to tell it to the funeral director.”

“Love you!” she said as she blew me a kiss and walked on out the door, hopped in her car and drove away with a little beep-beep.

I hadn’t expected to spend that Sunday alone.  It was beautiful out.  The sky was as blue as Lo’s dress and the sun as bright as her disposition.  The air was warm, but not oppressive, as it had been most of July.

Without plans or partner, I ventured to the local park with my folding chair, thermos full of G&T and ice, and the novel I had been reading, My Mother by George Bataille.

Simultaneously, as I was sitting in the park, reading, watching the youthful frolics of the people around me, reminiscing of my Lola in the park with Meri a couple of weeks prior, and comparing the scantily clad flirts around me with my slut, Lola (there is no comparison, really), Lo was off in the burbs engaged in the following activities.

She arrived at Meri’s picture perfect suburban home around eleven.  It was in one of the wealthy bedroom communities around our city, about a half-hour away from us.  She pulled up along the curb in the cul-de-sac and texted Meri, “I’m here.”

From the car, she observed the blue hydrangeas, the yellow black-eyed Susans, and the rose bushes.  She wondered, Did Meri tend those?  Hired help, probably.

Due to COVID, there was no going in the house, except for use of the bathroom.  Lo put on her mask when she saw Meri come outside.  Lo got out of the car and had that awkward moment when, during normal times, there would have been a hug and maybe a little kiss hello, but not now.  Not during COVID.  They just smiled, delighted to see each other.

Meri said, “I love your dress.  And those shoes!”

“Aw, shucks,” said Lo with faux modesty.

“And what do you have on under that dress?” asked an eager Meri.

“We’re tanning in your backyard, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got on a bikini.”

“Perfect,” said Meri, smiling a devilish grin that looked even more authentic given her red hair.  “I’d give you a tour of the house, but. . .”  She didn’t have to say anymore.

She led Lo around the side of the house, through a little gate, to the backyard.

“Is anyone home?” asked Lo.

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yep.  Scott and all three boys.”

“Oh,” said Lo, “I thought it was going to be just us.”

Meri didn’t answer.  She simply extended her hand to the lounge chairs in the backyard, separated by many feet from each other, and behind them, the blue inground pool.  “How’s this?” she asked.

“It’s lovely!”

“Come on in and get comfortable.  Can I make you a drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Anything you want.”

Lo looked at Meri and said, “Something wet that will make my head spin.”
“Coming up!”

Lo removed her shoes and walked around barefoot in the backyard.  She looked at all the flowers in bloom, the lush green grass, the tall trees in the distance, and then back at the house.  Soon she saw Meri emerge from the sliding doors in the center of the house that led into the kitchen.  She was carrying two tall drinks.  When she had gone in the house, Meri was wearing jeans and a blouse.  But now she was wearing only a tiny thong bikini bottom and a just as skimpy, matching solid yellow bikini top.

Bikini Babe Lo

“Here you go, Lo,” she said, passing her a glass filled with pink bubbly liquid and a red striped straw in it.

“Thanks,” said Lo, sipping and staring at Meri.

“Don’t you want to change?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Lo pulled her dress up over her head, revealing a more modest bikini than Meri was wearing and than Lo had worn the previous time they met in the park.

“If you feel like going for a swim, help yourself.  You can even skinny dip if you want.  None of the neighbors can see.  Not that that matters to you,” she added, referring to Lo’s exhibitionism in the public park.

“What about. . . ?”  Lo nodded in the direction of the house, indicating Meri’s family.

“Oh, them?”  She shrugged her shoulders.  “They’ve seen you naked already.”

“What?!”

“I told you.  Remember?”

“You said that you found me through your husband looking at the blog and that your son also discovered it, but you didn’t say everyone had.”

“Well, I don’t know that for sure,” said Meri, “but it wouldn’t surprise me.  It’s a house full of testosterone.  It is unbearable for me sometimes.  It’s nice to have another woman here for once.  You’re my first guest since COVID.”

They were lying down now and Lo couldn’t help suspecting that she was being watched by four pairs of eyes in the house.

“Is your husband going to come out and say hello?”

“Probably not,” said Meri.  “He’s shy.  He knows that you know and he’s embarrassed.”

“Do you think he’s watching?”

“I hope so.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.  He’s been doting on me ever since he found out that I’ve been corresponding with you.  It makes him so horny.  Sometimes we put your photos on the computer so we can both see it and he goes at me from behind.  I’ve told him about how I’d love to have a strap-on to fuck you the way he fucks me.  That makes him give it to me even harder.  We’ve also been listening to your audiobooks.  Sometimes we pick a destination an hour or so away, just to get in the car and listen.  Then we pull over in the woods somewhere and I give him a blowjob while he listens to Jupiter Grant narrating those sexy stories about you.  Maybe one day she’ll be narrating about me!”

Lo was blushing.  She was not used to her life on the down low being out in the open, commented on, and even being pandered to in order to make it into the narrative.

Their lounge chairs were facing the pool, that is, away from the house, but, as they continued to talk, swapping stories and fantasies, the sun had repositioned almost behind them.  Lo stood up and said she was hot.  She was going to take a dip, if that was ok.

“Sure, it’s fine.  I’ll refresh the glasses,” said Meri, walking in the house.  Lo watched her strut inside and she liked looking at Meri’s sweet ass move in that thong.  She thought about how Meri was almost twice her age, had three sons, and still had an incredibly seductive saunter.  MILF Meri, she thought.

The thought of the three sons was gnawing at her conscience, however.  The oldest had to be almost Lo’s age.  The youngest. . . how old was he?  He must be at least eighteen, right?  I mean, Meri didn’t seem to have a problem with his reading the blog.

Lo walked out onto the diving board and dove into the pool.  The chilly water was refreshing and helped her clear her mind of all the dirty thoughts that were swirling in it.

When Lo saw Meri returning with the drinks, she got out of the pool and the two of them turned their chairs to be facing the sun.  Facing the house as well.

“I think I’ll take a dip too,” said Meri.

Lo was sorry that her chair was now facing the opposite direction from the pool because she couldn’t watch Meri without being obvious about it.  She didn’t want to gawk.

She sat and sipped her drink and looked at the vacant windows of the house in front of her, wondering behind which of them were her secret admirers.

When Meri returned to the chair, Lo was taken aback because, when Lo wasn’t looking, Meri had stripped out of the little that she was wearing.

Meri picked up a towel to dry off and then put it down on the chair under her and laid down on top of it, naked.  Lo liked what she saw.  It was clear that Meri usually tans nude.

Lo was about to say something when, from within the house bellowed a loud “Maaaahhh!”

Meri looked at the house.  Again, louder, “MAAAAAHHH!”

“Hang on a sec,” said Meri, walking quickly into the house.  Lo watched keenly as Meri’s naked ass jiggled in front of her.

Soon Meri came outside again, still naked, her large and slightly sagging breasts flopping without any constraints on them as she walked.

“Everything ok?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” said Meri.  “It was just my son.”

“What did he want?”

“To be a pain in the ass.”

“Really?”

“He craves attention.  He was upset because I had put a parental control on the computer and on his phone.  He demanded that I unlock it.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

She was about to add something else when again was heard, “MAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” even louder than before.  The sound, which reminded Lo of a foghorn, bellowed from inside the house.

Meri raised her index finger to say just a minute as she danced her way inside again.

This time she took a while.  Lo was left wondering at her absence.

When Meri finally returned, she didn’t look happy.

“What’s up?”

“He’s so spoiled.  It’s my fault.  I spoiled him.”

“Why?  What’s going on?”

“Never mind,” said Meri, taking a long sip of her drink.  “You don’t have kids, do you?”

Lo laughed, “No.  I don’t plan on it.”

“Grrrrr,” grumbled Meri, “I’m sorry.  They treat me like a house servant here.  It’s always, ‘Mom do this.  Mom, I need that.  Mom, take me here.  Mom, I want. . .’  Since COVID, it’s been even worse.  All three boys here twenty-four/seven.  Absolutely no privacy.  Scott works from home.  The kids are always home.  I’m used to everyone being out of the house for at least eight hours a day.  It’s bad enough that I’ve lost that me-time, but they are up to all hours at night.  I have to do something to take my mind off this.  Will you help me out?”

“Sure.  What can I do?”

“Will you turn towards me?”

“OK,” said Lo as she turned her chair toward Meri.

“Will you show me your pussy like you did in the park?”

“Ummm,” Lo was feeling uncertain.  “Where are your sons and your husband?”

“There, there, there, and there,” said Meri, pointing at the three bedroom windows on the second floor and the dining room window on the first floor.

“Are they watching us.”

“I don’t know.  Scott was on a phone call when I went in.”

“And the others?”

Meri shrugged her shoulders like it didn’t matter.

Very self-consciously, Lo slid her right hand under her bikini bottom.  She raised her leg that was closest to the house in an attempt to conceal what she was doing from the voyeurs within.  With her left hand she pulled the thin fabric to the side so Meri had an unobstructed view of what Lo was doing.

Meri moved her right hand down between her legs and parted her pursed lips with her fingers.  Slowly she moved her finger inside, stroking back and forth as she watched Lo digitally diddle her clit.

Lo was too aware of the eyes that might be watching to cum, but it didn’t take Meri long to climax quietly in the peaceful suburban sanctuary.

“Feeling better?” asked Lo when she saw the rush of blood to Meri’s chest begin to subside.

Meri just laughed quietly to herself and licked her fingertips.  “Thanks Lo,” she said.

Lo mustered up the courage to ask the question that was distracting her the whole time.  “You don’t have a problem with the kids. . . uh, seeing you?”

“Like I said,” began Meri nonchalantly, “there is no privacy around here.  I’ve given up on trying to hide it.  And so have they.  We just accept ourselves as we are and accept our sexuality.  We’re all sexual beings, Lo.  You should know that more than anyone.”

Lo was not at all clear as to what Meri meant by “accepting” things, the way Meri spoke about it.  Also, thought Lo, this house is huge.  How could you not have privacy?  But she didn’t ask questions.  She just listened.

“When I went inside, he wanted my help again.  He says he likes it better when I do it for him.  Spoiled brat.  You’d think he could do something for himself at that age!  But, it’s ok,” she added in a gentler tone, “He’s just a momma’s boy and I know that one day that will come to an end.  My husband calls him ‘Prince Hamlet,’ because his life is so easy, yet he is always seeing the sinister in everything.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come over,” said Lo, voicing her misgivings.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Lo,” said Meri, spreading her legs further on the lounge chair.

“But I think I’m just complicating everything.”  Lo’s head was spinning.  The drink, the sun, the sexual stimulation, the hidden intrigue, all culminated in a dizzy spell.

“He might be a little jealous, but I haven’t had a guest in four or five months!”

Lo didn’t know whom Meri was talking about, one of her sons or her husband.  Images of men’s faceless faces flashed in her mind.

“Can I, er, use your bathroom?” asked Lo.  She felt like she had to get out of the sun, out of the spotlight.

“Sure.  Straight in those doors and to the left,” said Meri, pointing.

Lo picked up her mask and put it on as she timorously walked toward the imposing house.

She slid the sliding screen door open and walked into a large, open-plan kitchen/dining room.

A large, rotund man was sitting at the dining room table looking into a laptop computer.  He wore cargo shorts and a short-sleeve button-down blue shirt, untucked.  He looked over at Lo when she entered the room.  Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the relatively dim light inside.

“Oh, you must be Lola,” said the man in an authoritative, booming voice.

“Yes.  And you’re Scott?”

“My wife is crazy about you,” he said, making Lola feel awkward.

“The bathroom?” asked Lo, timidly.

“Right there,” said Scott, pointing to a door at the end of the kitchen.  “Did you really do all those things H.H. wrote about you?”

“I’m here now, ain’t I?” was all Lo responded, before walking to the bathroom.

When she came out of the bathroom, back into the kitchen, behind the ‘L’ shaped kitchen counter, far at the other end of the room, by the dining room, was a young man, staring unflinchingly at Lola.

Lo walked towards him.  She had to if she were to exit the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said nervously.

He was shirtless.  No answer.

“You must be. . .” began Lo, realizing she had no idea the names of Meri’s sons.

“You’re even better looking in person,” he said, mesmerized.

Lo looked around the room for Scott.  He was nowhere to be found.  It was just this kid and Lo, staring each other down like the Sheriff and the Outlaw in some western.  But who was who?

“What do you mean?” asked Lo, knowing very well what he meant.

“You like my mom?”

“She’s very nice,” said Lo, flustered.

“Are you going to fuck her?”

“You should watch your mouth!” replied Lo.  He had the face of a cherub, but that just made it all seem more inappropriate.

“You’re one to talk,” he said in a joking manner that Lo found a little endearing.  “Can I see you without your mask on?”

Lo briefly pulled down her mask under her chin.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, seemingly unaware of the words escaping from his lips.

“Shucks, thanks.”

“So, are you and my mom going to. . . ?”

Lo walked toward the boy, her mask back on now.  “You have needs.  Your dad has needs.  Well, your mom has needs too,” she said, gently.  “You might not be aware of her needs because she’s always taking care of you and your brothers and your dad.  Her needs might not be as obvious.  But they are just as real and just as. . . pressing.”

The boy looked blankly back at Lo.  Then he said, “You don’t know my mom very well, do you?”

“Well enough.”

“Her needs come before everybody else’s,” he said.  Lo thought she detected a hint of word play when he said “come.”  Maybe it was just in her perverted imagination.

“From what I hear, she takes good care of you,” replied Lo.

The boy acknowledged the truth of that statement wordlessly, looking a little ashamed and blushing.  He added, “But we’re all clear that she has needs.”

Lo walked past him and out the door.  When she got into the backyard, she saw Scott talking to his naked wife.  The sight overwhelmed her for a moment.  When Scott was sitting inside, she had noticed his rather hefty size, but now he was standing over Meri and he seemed like a giant in comparison to her.  He was enormous, both in height and girth.  He was easily 300 pounds.

Scott & Meri

The two of them saw Lo as she reentered the backyard and they stopped whatever conversation they were having to smile at her as she returned to her lounge chair.

“I just met your son,” said Lo.

“Oh, which one?” asked Meri.

But before Lo could say she didn’t know, Scott chimed in with, “I hope he was polite to you.  You know, these boys – three of them – it’s like, I mean sometimes I feel like the animal trainer at a circus.  That’s the best we can expect of them at that age!”

“Oh no he was. . .” began Lo before being cut off yet again by Meri.

“Scott, will you go and back me up about the parental controls on the computer?”

“Enjoy the sunshine,” said Scott as he dutifully walked back into the house.

Lo settled into the chair and tried to see in the dark doorway to the kitchen to ascertain if any eyes were looking back at her.  She could make out nothing.  The brilliant sun outside made the door to the house appear as a rectangular void.

“He’s not wrong,” said Meri.  “Living with three teenage boys, well, it is like being a zoo keeper – constantly cleaning out their cages, feeding them, and trying to keep them in line.  It’s exhausting.  I can’t wait until this damn COVID thing is over and we can send them all to college.  I never thought I’d say that, but it’s true!  I was just getting used to having two of the three out of the house when this plague struck.”

“I can’t even imagine,” said Lo.  Then, pensively, Lo asked, “Has it always been like this?”

“Like what?”

“I mean, have you always been so, er, nonchalant around them?” asked Lo, referring to Meri’s non-concern for her nudity.

“I’ve never been ashamed of anything,” she said.  “But this COVID quarantine put all of us in closer quarters.  And, I have to admit, in the past year or so, my sex-drive has shot way way up.  Like through the roof.  I don’t know if it’s the onset of menopause or what, but I can’t seem to get enough.  And with the three boys always around and, well, frankly, Scott. . .”  She trailed off and then added, “I eventually gave up on the idea of me-time.  Sex and sexuality are completely natural.  We’re all sexual beings.  We all have needs and desires.  Believe me, I’ve had to clean up enough cum-covered sheets from these three boys to know that they’re not exempt.  So, why hide it?  Why pretend like it’s not real, for me, for you, for them,” she said, nodding at the house.  “Yeah, I’ve known for a long time that Scott looks at porn and that late at night, after I’ve gone to bed, he jacks off in his home office.  Frankly, he doesn’t try to hide it.  Or, if he does, he doesn’t do a very good job of it.  For many years, before my libido kicked into high-gear, I just didn’t care.  I mean, at least he wasn’t bugging me at midnight, so I got my sleep.  I didn’t like the lying or the deceit, but I put up with it.  It was a minor transgression.  As long as he wasn’t having an affair.  And I checked his computer and phone enough to know that that wasn’t happening.”  She paused to take a long sip of her drink.  “The boys?  I’ve known that they are self-pleasuring ever since the oldest hit puberty.  Fine by me.  I’d be a hypocrite if I said it was wrong.  I just ask that they use tissues rather than give me more laundry to do.  I also don’t want them watching all that extreme, violent, misogynistic, hyper-objectifying, crazy porn out there.  Women being choked, abused, spat on, peed on.  Women fisting other women anally all the way up to their elbows.  Women having their anus used as a cereal bowl.  Have you seen the porn out there?”

Lo was praying that the question was rhetorical.  But, in asking the question, Meri was, perhaps inadvertently or intentionally, giving away what she had seen somewhere.

After only a slight pause, during which Lo was silent and merely blinked, Meri continued, “It’s horrible.  Women being fucked by dogs, horses, drinking pee, you name it!  I mean really!  I don’t want my kids being raised on that.”

Lo was blushing by now.  She hoped Meri would think it was just the combination of the alcohol and the sun.  She couldn’t tell what Meri had seen of the blog.  Had she seen the more risqué posts?  Was she referring to those?  Did she want Lo to open up about all her naughty kinks, her taboo fantasies, her hidden shame?

“I don’t care if they get off on a naked woman’s body,” she said while applying more sunscreen to her breasts, “or lesbians, or even a blowjob scene.  Whatever.  But the internet is worse than drugs.  It will fuck with your head for years to come if you’re not careful.  So, as long as they’re under my roof, I insist on access to their search history and their phones.”

“And they agree to that?”

Meri was now applying the sunblock to her legs.  “Well, they used to, before college.  The older ones, I mean.  Now it’s a struggle.  ‘But Mom,’” she mocked, “‘I have a right to privacy.’  And I have a right to know what’s on the phone that I pay for and on the computer that I bought, and what you’re downloading from the internet that is in my name.”

Lo suddenly realized that Meri was drunk.  She was ranting.

“Does Scott know that you track his porn activities too?” asked Lo.

“Scott?” Meri asked with a laugh.  “Ha!  No.  Either he is completely oblivious to the fact that I can see everything in his search history, or he wants me to know.  Either way, it’s fine.  But, as you know, it’s not fine when the kids discover what he’s been looking at (or when they discover what I’ve been getting off to).  When my libido was resurrected, it actually was helpful.  If I saw that he jacked off the previous night to a woman fingering her ass, well, I knew what to do to get him turned on.  If I saw that he got off to photos of a woman’s feet, well, the next night I was feet-forward.  When I found out that Scott was reading your blog,” she continued, “I was actually relieved.  I mean, yeah, you’re half his age and only a little older than our oldest son, but you’re real.  You’re not some desperate young floozy from god-knows-where who has been coerced into making porn.  You’re not strung out on drugs and putting yourself out there on the internet for your next fix.  You’re in it because you want to be.  And it’s clear that HH loves you, worships you.  It’s a healthy, if unconventional, relationship.  It’s refreshing.  And if my son wants to read about it,” she laughed to herself, “ha! at least he’s reading!!!  Right?  I mean, it’s good writing.  It’s both intellectually and sexually stimulating.  If porn is junk food, then it’s a granola bar.  Sure, it’s got a few chocolate chips thrown in, but it’s not bad for you!”  She laughed again.

Lo laughed with her, though she was feeling uneasy being talked about in this way.

“Do you think that Scott is reading about me because he has a thing for a hotwife?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe he secretly wants to see you fucked by another man.”

“If only!” blurted out Meri, loudly.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“No.”

“But surely you talked to him about me.  I mean, he was reading the blog.  You discovered that he was reading the blog.  You got into the blog.  Your son, or sons, got into the blog.  And now suddenly, here I am, in the flesh!  How did you explain that to him?”

It gradually dawned on Meri that Lo didn’t know the whole story.

“I told Scott that when I was checking our son’s browsing history, I came across your blog.”

“Oh.”

“He played dumb, like he had never heard of it or you before.  That night, before bed, I said to him, ‘Do you want to see what sort of smut our son has been looking at?’  He said ‘Sure’ as if he had no real interest in it.  I pulled up your blog on our laptop and we scrolled through it together.”

“No!” said Lo, incredulously.  (One of her greatest satisfactions is knowing that couples read the blog together.  Meri probably knew that already.)

“Yes, we did.  And I could see him getting aroused.  I said to him, ‘You like that?  You like that young slut?  That little nympho?  Do you wish you were with a cum-hungry cock-whore like her?’  He got all flustered.  He didn’t know what to say or what to make of me as my hand reached under the covers for his hard dick.  I stroked him off as he scrolled through your blog.  Then I gave him a blowjob.  And then I got on all fours and you won’t believe what he did.”

“What?!”  Lo was very interested.

“He put the computer on my back and fucked me from behind while looking at your photos.  He came like he hadn’t cum in twenty years!”

“Na-ah,” said Lo, incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“How’d that make you feel?”

“I was fine with it.  You and I had already had our date last year and so I was envisioning you in my mind as he fucked me.  I knew that I had one up on him.  Also, I was just glad to be fucked from behind.  You’ve seen Scott.  He’s huge.  Usually, when he fucks me, it’s missionary position.  I can hardly breathe.  He’s so big and heavy.  And, worst of all, he has a tiny cock.”

“No!”

“Yes.  He has to be really right up against me to get it in me at all.  I literally cannot remember the last time I climaxed with him.  I mean, I cum, but it’s always due to self-manipulation.”

Lo glanced down at Meri’s mons pubis and saw that there was a sparkle of light glimmering from her pussy because she was dripping wet again.

“How did you explain today to him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how did you explain that you and I know each other and that I was coming over?”

“Oh,” said Meri as if it was no big deal to pull the wool over Scott’s eyes, “I told him a week ago or so that I wrote to you and it turns out you live close by.  I told him we had carried on an email correspondence and that we finally met up for coffee.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He was surprised, but he clearly tried to play down his excitement at the prospect of meeting you.  I’ll bet you anything that when you went inside and saw him at his computer, he was reading your blog, not doing work.”

“Does he know that you and I. . . that we. . . that you have bi tendencies?”

“Oh yeah.  I mean, he knows that I’m interested in women, or at least that I was in college.  You wouldn’t know it now, seeing me as a middle-aged housewife and mom in the suburbs, but in high school and college, I lived up to the reputation redheads have for being wild and crazy.”

“I can believe it.  So, he’s ok with that?”

“Well, he doesn’t know that we’ve fooled around, but yeah.  What hetero guy isn’t ok with that?”

“I’ve known a few,” said Lo, reminiscing about some past relationships.

“Anyhow, he can’t believe you’re here.”

Author’s Aside: This whole account reminded me of a wonderful Italian movie I saw years and years ago called The Icicle Thief in which a beautiful, buxom, blonde model from a color TV commercial intrudes upon the black-and-white realism film depicting an impoverished family.  The notion of Lola the nympho, hotwife, sex-blog star walking into the quiet, suburban family life of Scott and Meri was superimposed in my mind over the Italian film.

“Does he have any expectations?” asked Lo.

“What do you mean?”

“Is he hoping to sleep with me?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Meri.  She paused to think for a moment, gazing off at the house.  “I’m sure he wants to, but knows that he can’t without my go-ahead.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Do you want to sleep with him?” asked Meri, incredulously.

“I’m just trying to gauge expectations.”

“Hmmmmm,” sounded Meri as she pensively looked off, picturing the scene in her mind’s eye.  “I guess I don’t really care.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  I mean, he’s tiny.  I told you that.  And he cums in like five minutes, tops.  Would you really do it?”

“I’m not opposed,” said Lo.  “But I don’t want to create any problems.  You two should probably talk it over and make sure you’re both 100% on board.”

“I’ll let you know,” said Meri.  “He’s only slept with like three or four women, including me.”

“Poor guy.  And you?”

“How many people have I slept with?”

“Yeah.”

“Too many to count!” said Meri with a laugh.  “But no one new since getting married.”

“Oh, then do I have the boys for you!” said Lo.

“What?”

Lo went on to tell Meri about the brothers from across the street.  Meri was simultaneously intrigued and repulsed by her own excitement.  “They’re like the same age as my own boys,” she remarked.

Together, Lo and Meri discussed the myriad possibilities for the COVID quarantine cuckolding adventures.

Eventually, Lo and Meri bid each other farewell as Meri went to prepare dinner for her hungry family and Lo came home to me to get her fill of my love while she recalled to me the events with which I have just regaled you.

Sound

[This story, in case you don’t pick up on it, is dedicated to the incomparable, Jupiter Grant. You can find her work here, here, here, here, and here.]

“In physics, sound is a vibration that propagates as an acoustic wave, through a transmission medium such as a gas, liquid or solid. In human physiology and psychology, sound is the reception of such waves and their perception by the brain.”

Lola’s Tum

 

It had been a wet month.  The typical English spring attempted to outdo itself with unrelenting grey skies, showers, and sopping English gardens.  Jupiter Grant, or Jupi, as she likes to be called by her friends, had not gone out for weeks.  Her groceries had been delivered and her supply of wine was dwindling.  It had been months since she had seen her ersatz lover, H.  She referred to him only as H and thought of him as “ersatz” because he was a Husband to another woman and had a family in London.  Jupi was the proverbial “other woman,” the “mistress,” the “seductress.”  At least that’s the way the judging world would see her.  The judging world being the monogamous, heteronormative world.  Between Jupi, H, and H’s wife, there was an open understanding.  Still, that cozy relationship was of no use during the long COVID lockdown.

From Jupi’s point of view, she was the guest always late to the party.  She and H had chemistry that they both acknowledged.  Not just sexual, but spiritual.  They knew they were meant to be together, but their paths had crossed many years too late in life.  As a compromise to life’s cruel humor, they connected when and how they could; neither one demanding more of the other or disappointed by the other since they both knew that this was the best arrangement for all parties involved.  Yet Jupi was not late to the poly-party.  Thank goodness, she thought, that she lived in and was a part of the polyamory zeitgeist.

A Happy Fan

Yet the knowledge that they were two lost souls doing what they could to find joy in a largely painful and sad world provided little relief for Jupi when her deepest needs swelled up to fill her entire being with desire – desire to be held, touched, caressed, kissed, fondled, spanked, sucked, filled, and fucked.  At those moments, a quick fap merely whet her ferocious appetite.  She needed more.  She craved the comfort of H’s strong, firm flesh pressing down on her own soft, welcoming, warm body.

Unrelieved in her needs, she turned to compensatory pleasures and perversions.  Much of her sexual energy, she found over the years, could be diverted into creative power.  Writing erotica was her main outlet.  But lately she discovered a new medium into which she channeled her plentiful reserves of poetic and prurient lust and her craving to perform: her voice.  Through a series of happy coincidences, she discovered that not only could she narrate literotica, she could nail it with every ounce of sexy she felt swirling through her sensual spirit and her beautiful body.

Volume I

A manuscript had arrived: Match, Cinder & Spark: Nymphomania and the Single Girl.  “Hmmmm,” she thought, “this could be interesting.  Or, it could be a colossal waste of time.  Thousands of words, hundreds of pages of driveling, second-rate, even third-rate pablum ‘poetry’ for pubescent boys.”  She poured a glass of red wine and opened up the document on her computer.  She began reading:

 

“Tell me,” she said, “tell me what I am.”

“You’re a slut.”

“Yes,” she said, encouragingly.

“A whore.  A fucking sexmaniac.”

“Go on,” she moaned, biting her lower lip.  But I was too occupied with banging her from behind.  I needed to catch my breath.

“Tell me,” she demanded, “tell me what I am.”

“A cum-bucket.  A little cum-hungry tramp.”

“Yes,” she screamed.

“A sex addict.  A nymphomaniac!”

I slapped her ass hard as she screamed with delight.  Her wet little snatch secreted her luscious, warm juices all over my hard cock.

After she collapsed into the bed of blankets, I reached around her from behind and whispered in her ear, “Good girl.  That’s my good girl.”  She purred like a little kitten.

 

Artistic Tribute Photo

She felt a tingling between her legs.  She kept reading, taking small sips of wine as she felt her mouth watering.  As she continued, she felt something else getting wet.  She tried reading the words aloud, just to hear how they would sound in her voice.  Could she do the male lines?  It was narrated by Lola Down’s lover, H.H.  Was she the right voice for that?  Wouldn’t a man’s voice be more appropriate?  She tried it out, experimenting with various octaves and tones.  Clearly these two characters were American.  Should I pronounce “ass” the American way, or as I would pronounce it – “arse”?  Technical questions like these kept appearing, but she liked what she read.  She liked it a lot.  To her surprise, she especially enjoyed embodying the male narrator’s role.  Yes, she thought, yes, I’ll take this on.

A week later she was in her tiny makeshift “recording studio” – actually a closet with a light, a microphone, and her computer.  It was the most soundproof room of her flat.  She was in the middle of recording a story, “NYC,” about Lo and her raconteur’s trip to a strip club in Manhattan:

 

She slowly eased her way down Lo’s body, pressing her perky breasts and nipples directly in Lo’s face.  She took Lo’s hands and encouraged Lo to apply them to her body, caressing the dancer’s ass and legs.  As she slithered over Lo, she inconspicuously pulled Lo’s strapless dress down over Lo’s breasts, exposing them so that they could rub up against her own.  She then got down between Lo’s legs and gracefully pulled the hem of Lo’s dress up and up, rubbing her soft hands over Lo’s thighs and then sitting on Lo’s lap and rubbing her ass deep into Lo’s crotch.  All the while, Lo licked her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth in that sumptuous way that indicates that Lo is hungry.

 

 

Jupi found herself breathless.  She couldn’t continue with the narration.  There in the narrow confines of the darkened closet, she reached down under her skirt and panties and her fingers fondled the fount of her effulgent creativity.  She read the lines again and again in her mind and switched roles in her mind from being Lo to being the stripper to being H.H. observing it all.  The dance of subjectivity stimulated her mind as much as her digits released her pent-up puissance by penetrating her pulsating pink pussy.

Browsing the Literotica section

Wave after wave of relief and gratitude poured over her as her legs gave out and she slowly crumpled onto the now wet wooden floor of the closet, panting and heaving.  She opened the door to let in more air.  She desperately needed more air.

Eventually, she was able to finish recording the story.  She liked it so much that she wanted to share it, prematurely, with someone.  No, not with someone.  Not with anyone.  With H.  She needed to know his opinion of it.  Was it any good?  Was she any good as a narrator?  But there were so many doubts that accompanied her wish.  What if he didn’t like it?  What if he thought she was weird for even producing it?  What if he was turned on by Lola?

Ultimately her desire for validation and attention outweighed her insecurities and she hit “SEND” and immediately wished she could unsend it.

An excruciating day, then two days, then three days went by without a word from H.  She couldn’t record another page before hearing back from him.  She was in a frenzied state.  Why hadn’t he called, texted, emailed, something???

But, just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, there was an unexpected knock at her door.

A visitor?  No.  Couldn’t be.  Probably just a grocery delivery.  She hastily put on her robe and furtively opened the door.  There he was.  H.  Unannounced.  Unexpected.  Un-fuckig-believable!  She was ecstatic.  Jupi threw the door open wide and let him in.  But then she remembered the recording.  Was he here to break things off?

“Hi,” she said shyly, her nerves shot.

“Hi.”

“I wish I knew you were coming.  I would have. . .”

“I didn’t even know I was coming.  But I’ve been. . . I’ve wanted to. . . I just started driving and I found myself here.  I’ve been listening to your recording on repeat.”

“And?”

“Your voice is so fucking sexy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  I’ve been hard-up for days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to.  But I wanted to see you and tell you.”

“Way to drive a woman crazy!”

“Who wrote this?  Who is this Lola?”

Suddenly Jupi felt nervous again.  She felt butterflies in her stomach.  “What if?” questions started forming in her mind like they did before.  Incessant, annoying, pervasive questions filled with self-doubt and fear.  Her anxiety ramping up again.  She needed to get grounded.

“Come on in,” she said, taking his coat.  “Want a drink?”

She took out the wine and two glasses.  She let her robe drop, revealing her bare body just beneath the sheer negligée she was wearing under the robe.  It was sexy, but it was also comfy.  He looked at her, soaking in her visage.  She was a shy hermit full of inner life – sensual, spontaneous, artistic, creative, smart, witty, emotional, and most of all, madly in love with him.  Seeing her filled him with passion, just as the sound of her voice speaking those salacious sentences had made him crazed for three days.  Her flesh.  He wanted it.

She sat down next to him at the small kitchen table and opened her laptop.  She clicked on mysexlifewithlola.com and scrolled through the plethora of Lola’s porno pictures.

“Oh. . . oh. . . my,” he said slowly with long pauses in between exclamations.  “Um, wow!”  Images of Lola naked were replete on the screen.  But not just naked – naked with her 12 inch dildo, with her princess plug, with pearls on a string streaming from her ass, with her man, H.H., sucking his cock, filled with his cum, overflowing with the cum of other men, and stretching herself wide with one of the largest replicas of a horse cock H had ever seen!

“Yeah, she’s a handful,” said Jupi, resigned to sharing H’s attention with Lola.

“She reminds me of you,” he said, looking up at her downcast eyes.

“What?  Really?”

“Yes, if I had met you ten years ago.  I think she’s the spitting image of you.”

“Ten years ago?” Jupi echoed.

“Oh, no.  Come on.  I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You sure you don’t want some young sexy thing like Lo?”

“No, Jupi, I want you.”  He leaned in to kiss her.  Her stomach’s butterflies flew in a flutter, suddenly startled by the unexpected availability of his lips and everything else he brought to the table.

“I was just about to record another chapter.”

“Really?  Can I listen?”

“I don’t think you’ll hear much.  I record it in the closet,” she said.

“Which closet?”

“In the bedroom.”

“Oh.  Well, go right ahead.  I’ll just be lying on the bed.  Maybe I’ll hear something.”

They got up to go to the bedroom.  She took the computer and disappeared into the walk-in studio.  “Wait here quietly,” she said before shutting the door behind her.

She was just finishing up the story, “Horsing Around.”  She read loud enough for H to hear:

 

I was in jeans and I could feel my cunt getting totally saturated, soaking my panties through and through.  I spread my legs and rubbed his cock back and forth until finally he exploded.  It was a ginormous shot of cum over my head, but, as his cock slackened, he dripped some remaining cum down into my hair and on my face.  I had to unbutton my jeans and pull them and my panties down as I got on my knees.  As I sat under his dangling cock, I stroked my pussy till I too came in a giant puddle on the cement floor.

 

 

When Jupi was done with the story, she emerged from the closet.  She found H lying on his back, his trousers down around his ankles, his massive hard-on clenched in his right fist which stroked up and down from tip-to-base and back again.

“Could you hear?” she asked, astonished.

“MmmmmmGrrrrrrrrrAaaaaahhhhhhh,” was all he could say as his member erupted like a spewing volcano sending its warm lava all over the surrounding countryside and dribbling down its sheer cliffs, covering his hand in goo.  “Fuuuuck!”

“Did I do that?” asked Jupi innocently.

“You have the most sexy voice,” he answered.

Though flattered by his visceral standing ovation, Jupi was at least slightly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get any of her man’s patronage that day.  Never one to miss an opportunity, she got between his legs and licked up the mess he had made.

“Can I get an advance copy of that audiobook?” he asked.

Jupi smiled, looking up at H from between his legs.  “Of course,” she said.

After he left, she sent the audio files to him via email.

A few days later he texted her and said, “Jupi, you have no idea how happy you have made me.  I know that we can’t see each other, but I’ve been listening to your recording in the car every chance I get.  It’s incredible.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I’ve even started listening to it in bed.  I told my wife that it’s just a guided meditation to help me sleep, but, in fact, it has the opposite effect.  After she falls asleep, I pull out my cock and stroke to your voice.”

A week later he was at Jupi’s flat again.  This time they had an actual date planned.  After a small meal, they went into the bedroom and, lying down on the bed, he asked, “Can we, uh, listen to the audiobook?”

“But I’m right here,” Jupi replied.

“I know, but it turns me on.”

She agreed.

He had another request.  “Can I have you doggy style?”

“Yes.”

“And. . .”

“And what?”

“Never mind,” he said as she got on all fours on the bed and he stood next to it, ready to enter her from behind.

“What?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Can I put your laptop here?”

“Really?”

“I mean, I won’t if you. . .”

“No, go ahead.”

He placed the computer on her back, opened it up to Lola’s photos, and, listening to Jupi’s narration, entered her wet and waiting pussy.

Not Jupi, but a fan photo

 

Lo picked up her head and said, “Stroke it again as I rub my pussy.”  Lo leaned back across from Bill in the back seat and spread her legs wide.  Her right leg was lying on top of Bill’s knee.  She still had her cute little heels on.  Bill stroked his cock as he looked on, salivating, at Lo’s spread pussy.  With her left hand, Lo spread her pussy lips wide and with her right hand she was fingering her clit and her cunt.

Bill was treated to a feast for the eyes.  Lo came and came again to her own digital manipulation.  She so love’s to see men jerk off, but the only thing she loves more than that is to see them jerking off to her.  This Bill did with enthusiasm and then he started asking Lo, “I bet you want me to cum on your pussy, don’t you, you whore?”

“Oh yeah,” responded Lo in her low, deep, sexy, guttural voice.

“You want me to shoot my load all over that hot pussy, don’t you?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, do it,” she said in response as she continued to spread her legs and finger-fuck her pussy.

He got up from the seat and almost stood over her, frantically yanking at his cock.

“Come on, come on,” Lo encouraged, “cum on my pussy.  Come on.”  And then finally, in an explosion of cum that fell like rain all over Lo and her dress and her stomach and her pussy, he came and came and came and came some more.  Lo was shocked by how much he came on her.  She had never been drenched that much by a guy in her life. . . and she loved it.

 

As they listened to the story, they too came together. . . and loved it.

Lying next to each other, sprawled out on the mess of a bed, the computer screen still displaying Lo’s cum-covered body, H said, “You know, my wife has been listening to the stories as well.”

Lo Bathes in Beauty

“No,” Jupi said incredulously.

“Yes.  She found me out.  She discovered it wasn’t a ‘guided meditation.’  And so now, whenever she’s in the mood, she puts in her earbuds and listens with her computer open in front of her, while I go at her.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Jupi.

“I’m sorry.  Does that upset you?  I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, I can’t believe that little trollop.”

“Who?”

“You know who: Lola Down.  She’ll be getting off all of London before long.”

“No, dear, you’ll be getting them off with your voice.”

Thank you Lola.  Thank you Jupiter Grant.  Thank you H.  Thank you everyone who reads, listens, and gets off to these words dripping with love and lust, jizz and juices.  Thank you.

The End

Lola Down, Putting the Cum back in Community

Hello Friends!

This post will be heavy on the images, light on the writing. I just wanted to let you all know that I, HH, am in the midst of writing a long-form (novelesque?) piece that I hope to be done with by late November. It’s called “Rogue’s Gallery.”  Here are some pre-views.

 

 

Also, in our kink news, as many of you know, we have just published our latest book, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume VI, SlutLife.  It was supposed to come out in time for summer reading by the beach, but due to some production hiccups, it didn’t get released until September.

SlutLife

At the same time, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume III: Writing Under Cover, has come out on audio book, narrated by the amazing Jupiter Grant.

Today’s post is to reach out to everyone in our extended virtual kink community and give a shout out to those of you who have supported us in so many ways, especially during these difficult times of limited social connection due to COVID.  We want to hear from all of you, to know how you’re doing and, also, to know if our posts here and our books, have helped you during these very trying times.

 

We have been so blessed by enthusiastic kinksters showing and telling us about their enjoyment of our blog, books, and audio books. We wanted to share with you the people who make this “work” worth it.

We would be remiss if we didn’t give our first shout out to the voice of MySexLifeWithLola, Miss Jupiter Grant. She is a talented narrator (understatement), author, and a sex goddess in her own right.

Jupiter Grant

Next, we recently received this lovely tribute photo from the seductive and interesting Lilith Avair.  She and her Daddy Dom, Michael, (in the second photo) have been crucial to our success. Without Michael’s technical help, this blog wouldn’t exist.

Lilith, Michael, Lola

We also want to give a warm shout out to Lil Gem and her man from PurplesGem. They have been enjoying the books and all of their fans have been enjoying them.

Lil Gem

Lil Gem

Lil Gem

 

 

 

 

Artistic photo of LilGem

Illustration of HH and Lo by LittleGem of purplesgem.com

LilGem’s Daddy has a happy read.

Lil Gem in B&W

Glad Lilgem didn’t get lil’ jealous about this sexy photo.

LittleGem of PurpleGem reads about Lola Down

 

 

 

Nikki reaching for her Lo fetish

In addition to Lil’Gem, we have also had some fun with Darling Nikki of Love Is a Fetish fame. Ain’t it tho?

Nikki and Lola

More of the sexy Nikki from Love is a Fetish.

Fun Fetish Nikki and Lo

More of Nikki

Nikki Nude

We also have been big fans of Floss (as in Floss Does Life)!  And she has shown us some lovin’ too!

Floss of FlossDoesLife
and Match, Cinder & Spark

Floss enjoys her reading.

Floss lets it all hang out.

Floss and Lola illustrated

MORE of Floss:

Beautiful Floss

From Floss’ Review

While this lovely hotwife is out having fun with a bull, her hubby is getting of to Lo.

Karla takes a selfie

 

Karla, the day she became a hotwife.

Karla and Chris

 

10 Years of Carla

Karla and her Bull

Evolution of Karla

Meanwhile, Chris, her hubby, printed out Lola’s photos to enjoy.

Chris Cums on Lo’s Pics

The real you is sexy!

That photo above is from an ad campaign, we just replaced the models with pics of Lola. However, the sentiment is the same – you, all of you, in your different shapes and sizes, are sexy as you are! Nothing is more sexy than feeling yourself to be sexy.

This couple have been enthusiastic fans of ours for a long time, though they don’t have their own blog. He is a professor. She is thinking about getting into the OnlyFans biz. Sam & Alia.

Sam and Alia read Match, Cinder & Spark together.

Our favorite fans are fans who get off to us together.

Alia seems more interested in the book than her hubby’s pud.

One thing leads to another.

But sometimes Sam has to take matters into his own hands.

Alia

Alia & Sam

And then there’s a beautiful blogger who has been creating poetry with the speed and power of lightning. The Lustful Empress.

The Lustful Empress with Lola

Collage of TLE getting off to Lola

Isn’t she just beautifully lustful?

We hope you’ve enjoyed this little tour of some of our friends in the bloggosphere. If you would like a free copy of one of our books in exchange for a sexy photo of you with it and some free publicity from us, just ask.

Of course, back when travel was a thing we did, when HH was apart from Lola, he would send her cumtributes as a token of his love & lust.

Portrait of the author as a horny man.

Stay sexy y’all!

Compersion Perversion

[As published in the October issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, Lola goes on a date with MILF Meri.]

Lo Casually Masturbating

It was a Thursday.  I was at the office.  All alone again.  During this pandemic and sweltering heatwaves of the summer, working from the office alone actually provided both cool central air (as opposed to our poorly air conditioned apartment) and much valued quiet, alone time, conducive to creativity and, if necessary, work.  Ms. Gale was working from home.  My other employees were working remotely as well.  I was under the impression that Lo, too, was working from home.  That is, until I received an email from her.

It’s unusual for me to get an email from Lo.  Text, phone call, even the unexpected in-person appearance for a booty-call are all to be expected.  But rarely an email.  Unless something is wrong, or the landlady has written to her demanding the rent, asking for a favor, or passing along complaints from the neighbors about the volume levels, frequency, and inconvenient late hours of Lo’s orgasmic operatic arias.

But this email was different.

“Guess where I am,” it read, enigmatically.

“At home, doing work,” I replied, unimaginatively.

“Nope.”

“Is this Twenty Questions, or can I just ask, where are you?”

“I’m in the park.”

It was another sunny, hot as hell day in the city.

“OK.” I wrote back.

“I have my computer.  I’m ‘working remotely’ from here.  That’s why I’m using my email.”

“Why do you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes?”

“Guess who I’m with.”

“Bill Murray.”

“No silly!  Meri!!!”

“Oh, that’s why you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes.”

“Yeah.  She wrote to me this morning and said that she told her husband she can’t take being cooped up in the house with the kids any longer.  She’s going to the park to get away and work.  But she had invited me and so we’re both here, pretending to work, but doing a lot more suntanning than working.”

“Which park?” I asked.

“Guess.”

“Lo,” I wrote, in the tone of voice I take with her when she’s being naughty, “I actually have work to do.”  These multiple, terse emails were not conducive to getting anything done.

“Fine,” she replied, “the park next to your office.”

My office faces out onto the street, but my employee’s office, in the back of the building, looks out onto a small oval park in the midst of the other businesses.

“Do you want to come by the window and see what I’m wearing, or not wearing?”

How could I resist?

I walked across the reception room area where Ms. Gale has her desk, into the back office.  I glanced out the window and sure enough I saw my little Lo, ass up, her computer in front of her, her admirer behind her, seated about ten feet away.  There were streets hemming in the small sward, but full sun upon my nymph and her MILF.

Allow me to paint the scene for you.  Unlike the last time these two met in the park, this time Lo came prepared to bask in the sun.  She was lying on her tum, her legs bent at the knee and her feet dangling in the air.  She had her computer in front of her.

Behind her, sitting in a beach chair, was Meri, watching.  She sat, ostensibly reading a book, but she was really just spying on Lo.  The way the two of them were in relation to each other, it did not appear that they were together or knew one another.  And I was spying on both of them.  I don’t know if Lo or anyone could see me watching from above.  If Lo noticed my presence, she made no sign of it.

Lo was wearing nothing but a very tiny bikini top and a pink thong bikini bottom.  It literally was no more than a spaghetti strap covering basically none of her ass.  I was familiar with it because she had bought it on sale last fall and was so eager to wear it that she tried it on for me at home, pretending to be on the beach showing off.  A fun little game for both of us!

Lo’s Thong Askew

It wrapped around from her crotch and, when placed just so, concealed only the bare essentials of her letter ‘i’ – if you know what I mean.  From a distance, it looked as if she was wearing nothing at all on the bottom.  And I was not the only one to think that.  Sitting around the two of them on the shaded park benches were old ladies and moms with strollers and the occasional businessman out for air or a stolen glance of Lo’s delectable derrière.  I could tell that the lecherous men interspersed with a few lascivious women were all trying their utmost best to give the appearance of doing something, anything else besides what they were doing – watching Lo.  It takes one to know one, I thought.

Lo was keenly aware of her audience, but she was performing for only one.  Meri, for her part, sat slightly askew to Lo.  She wore heels, a pink skirt that stopped just short of her knees, and a grey tank-top that accentuated her large breasts, revealing lots of cleavage and that she was wearing no bra.  She wore a baseball cap and dark sunglasses in addition to her mask, as if she were a movie star trying to stay incognito.

Lo’s performance was exquisite.  Every once in a while she would reach back behind her and ‘adjust’ her bikini bottom, as if it was riding up her ass uncomfortably.  She would pull at it so nothing was concealed, at least not to Meri, and then let it go again with an audible snap.  Occasionally she would put sunscreen in her hand and run her index finger from her pussy over her balloon knot, as if to insure that those delicate parts wouldn’t burn.

From my vantagepoint, I couldn’t help but think that the sun shines from 94 million miles away for one reason only: to illuminate, warm, and tan Lo’s perfectly spherical double-orbed bronzed rear.  It was as if Helios himself was looking down intently upon Lo’s sexy little ass and the oppressive, powerful rays of light were his enormous erection aching to feel the pleasure of that posterior, but burning hotter because infinitely frustrated by the impossibility of a non-material substance’s concupiscence being quenched by the corporeal object of its affection.

Lo pretended to be oblivious to it all, typing away on her computer as if deeply engrossed by her work emails.

Even in my airconditioned office, I was growing warm from the sight.  Since no one is allowed to come to my office due to the pandemic, I don’t even bother putting on a suit anymore.  It’s strictly t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops for me this summer.  That’s not my office attire, that’s my everything attire.

I also was growing hard in my khaki shorts.  Seeing Lo nearly nude in the middle of the pedestrian and otherwise non-nude plaza, literally the center of attention in the circle of voyeurs, and me, up there, voyeuristically observing from on high, with who-knows-how-many-others lurking in the windows, was appealing to my compersion perversion.

Just when I thought the scene could not get any better, an older gentleman (I use the term loosely) wearing slacks and a button-down sky-blue casual long-sleeve shirt walked over the green grass directly towards Lo.  He squatted down to talk to her.  She turned her head toward him and then rolled over on her back, propping herself up with her elbows.  Then, for the first time I saw that she had on the bikini top with adjustable cups and she had adjusted them to a very narrow setting, exposing most of her breasts, her side-boobs bulging out.

She looked up at the man and struck up a conversation with him.  I could see practically her entire chest falling out from where I sat and I’m sure that that man had a close-up view of it.  I could see Lo smiling at him in her flirtatious way as he continued to engage her in whatever small talk they were pursuing.

I’m sure this gave Lo the triple pleasure of teasing the man while simultaneously making Meri jealous and me mad with admiration of her hotwife hospitality.  I could see Lo glance from her interlocutor to Meri, making sure that the latter was catching it all.  And I could see Meri watching with great interest.

As Lo continued to talk to the man, she seemingly absentmindedly spread her legs, revealing the tiny triangle of material covering her smooth mons pubis, and she thoughtlessly placed her hand down there as if adjusting the bathing suit or scratching an itch.  This allowed Meri a direct line of sight into Lo’s labial lodestar.

I guess Lo’s male conversationalist eventually ran out of things to say.  I saw him pass Lo something that looked like a business card and then say his adieu.  He walked away and I saw Lo smile like the scapegrace she is at Meri and Meri smiled back.  They were like two schoolgirls pulling one over the teacher.

Lo reached down between her legs and quickly pulled back the bikini bottoms for Meri to get an unobstructed view for a brief moment of bliss.  In return, Meri spread her legs and, though I couldn’t see it, flashed Lo a glimpse of her crotch, unadorned by any panties.  (I did later confirm this with Lo.)

From my perch I could comfortably enjoy all of the sexual psychological angles: between Lo and Meri; the older women on the periphery and Lo; the younger women on the sidelines and Lo, the men and Lo; as well as Lo’s basking in the attention of all of them just as she basked in the bright sunlight as if it were her spotlight on the stage.

HH – Hot & Hard

The psycho-sexual dynamics had me rock hard in my shorts and just as I was contemplating relieving the tension, I heard the faint sound of keys and then the turning of the lock on the office door.  Before I could scramble to see who was there (especially when no one was supposed to be there), in walked Ms. Gale wearing denim shorts and a gingham button down shirt, tied up in the middle to reveal her midriff.  It covered only her shoulders and breasts, though it was unbuttoned enough to reveal much cleavage.

“Ms. Gale?” I almost shouted in shock.

“Mr. H?!” she shot back.

I was keenly aware that I had a huge erection in my shorts and that Lo and her special lady friend were frolicking outside the window by which I sat.

“Why are you here?” we both asked simultaneously.

“This is my office,” I said, authoritatively.  Though, actually, I wasn’t in my office.

“I thought you put on the calendar that you were on vacation this week.”

“Oh, I had, that’s true,” I said, “but COVID put an end to our travel plans.  So, here I am.  And you?”

“It was too hot in my apartment to work.  I only have one window unit and with the temperatures in the hundreds, it doesn’t get much colder than about eighty-seven.  I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I thought that, since you were away, I’d work in the office and utilize the central air.”

“I see,” I said, still too hard to stand up.

“Why aren’t you in your office?” she asked.

“Well, I, uh,” I stumbled for a plausible answer.  “I got bored of the view,” I said.

“Oh, is the view from that window better?  I thought it just looked out onto the park,” she said as she moved toward the window to look out.  I desperately didn’t want her to do that!

She did and we both looked outside.  To my great surprise, there was no sign of Lo and Meri!!!

“It’s just a different view,” I said casually.

She looked out the window, bending over, displaying her round rear to me in the tight shorts.

“You like the view?” she asked, enigmatically.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.  “I rarely see it like this,” I said, looking at her ass.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.  “You should take more time to smell the roses.  You’re always working,” she added as she returned to standing in front of me.  Little does she know that more often than not, when she thinks I’m assiduously working on a legal brief, I’m actually writing this torrid encomium to Lola.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said like a judge.  “But for now, I’ll let you have the office to yourself.  You know, we must be socially distant.”  I said it as if I were explaining to her that we need to be sexually distant.

“You don’t have to go,” she said.  “I mean, you could just work in a separate office.  I don’t mean to push you out.”

I was eager to catch up with Lola.

I put away the files I had been working on before Lo’s email and headed toward where I thought I’d find Lo and Meri.  Five minutes into my walk, I was already drenched in sweat.  I felt like I was suffocating due to the high temperatures and humidity.  Making matters worse, I had to wear that asphyxiating mask!  But I was determined.

I walked up the busy street from my office and was about to despair of my loss, but then I spied the two women sitting in front of the ice cream shop.  They each were seductively eating their treats from cups.  I took a seat not too far away from my nymph.  I didn’t worry about being discovered.  I had on dark sunglasses and my bandana mask.  Very little of my face could be seen and, as an added benefit, Meri had never met me.  To the best of my knowledge, she had no idea what I looked like.

The two of them were engrossed in conversation.  I watched for as long as I could, but the sun was baking me.  Eventually, convinced that I wasn’t missing anything of great import, I decided to return home, take a cool shower, and await Lo’s return.

I was on the couch in the living room when I heard the front door abruptly open and close.  I heard Lo scamper down the hall to the bedroom and master bath.  She too hopped in the shower first thing, but not to engage in the usual self-pleasure that she frequently enjoys in there.  No, it was a quick rinse and then, from the living room I heard her masturbatory moans.

I quietly walked down the hall.  The AC was on in the bedroom and so Lo didn’t hear me.  I slowly opened the bedroom door and couldn’t believe my eyes!  Instead of pounding her pussy with a dildo of enormous magnitude, she was sliding my Stoya Fleshlight up and down her lower lips, pressing Stoya’s labia into her own, dripping her wetness all over the prosthetic pussy.  Her eyes were closed and with her free hand she was plucking her nipples.

“Lo,” I said in a gentle tone.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” she screamed as she jumped a mile.  “What the hell are you doing home?!”  It was almost an accusation.

“I’m sorry, Darling,” I said before explaining the surprise visit by Ms. Gale and then asking her, “What the hell are you doing with my Fleshlight?”

“I hate the COVID bullshit!” she lamented.  “I want a pussy.  I want Meri’s pussy.  I want to fuck someone who is not you.  No offence,” she said after realizing what she had said.  “I just want. . .”

“No offence taken,” I said sarcastically.  “How could that possibly be offensive?”

“You know what I mean.  Of course I want to fuck you too, but I also want to be able to fuck others as well.”

“You have,” I reminded her.  “The brothers.  Remember?”

Stoya Licking her own Pussy

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, putting Stoya back on her cunt.  “That’s for them, not for me.  They’re young men, full of testosterone and they need my sweet release, especially in this pandemic.  I spread my legs, they slip in my honeypot and unload.  That’s all for them.”

“Oh, you get nothing out of it?” I asked sarcastically.  “You’re just a simple orgasm donor?”

She laughed, “I get something out of it.  I mean, I cum, yes.  And it pleases me to be their goto girl, their flesh-and-blood Fleshlight.  I won’t deny, that turns me on.  I like being their easy access.  Their cum dump.  The thought of guys’ balls aching for my cunt and unloading into me because I can provide for them what they so desperately need is an incredible turn-on.  But I want a woman.  I want someone who will take time to pleasure me, give me what I want, know what I want.  Not just ram it in deep and hard to prove how big and strong they are.  I want Meri.”

She returned to sliding and pressing the Fleshlight’s lithe labia up against her own swollen and supple lips, causing a suction sound as her own secretions lubricated the point of contact.  She reached down with her free hand and began circling her clit with her index finger.  She did all this as if I wasn’t even there.  Oblivious to me and all else but her imagination and the feel of her pussy slip-sliding against another pussy, she was soon squirting a stream of climactic juices directly into the parted prosthetic pussy.  The receptacle, upside down, simply dribbled out the contents back onto and into Lo’s already soaked and dilated source.

She took a few deep breaths.  I stood silently awaiting her command, request, or even insinuation to fill her with my meat.  But, instead she reached for her phone.  She made a call and said, “Hi.  Yeah.  Another leak.  Can you come over and fix it right away?”

She turned to me and asked, “Will you let them in?”

“Who?”

Then the doorbell rang.

I walked down the hall and admitted the two brothers.  It was the same uncomfortable silence between us as it had been before.  Merely sheepish grins and a little nod of the head as they walked toward their destination.  They no longer needed to be shown the way.

They walked into the bedroom, saw Lola splayed out on the bed naked, Fleshlight beside her body, sheets soaked, and they immediately dropped their pants.  They didn’t even bother to take off their shoes or their shirts.  Kids these days.

Lola: “Fuck me.”

“Fill me, fuck me, pump me, pound me, use me, abuse me, whip me, worship me,” said Lo, spreading her legs further, bending her knees and slapping her cum-slathered pussy.

One of the boys pulled her to the edge of the bed and penetrated her.  She briefly looked up at me, her head upside-down, from the bed, before her eyes rolled back.  The boy was rock hard and eager.  His brother stood by the bed watching, cock in hand, stroking, and patient.  Within moments, the first reached his climax inside her.

Pulling out, he stepped aside for his brother to have his chance.  Lo rolled over onto her hands and knees, raising her ass for him to have her.  He easily slid into her soaking holes.  I saw her wince just a little as he entered the tighter of the two.  But soon he was alternating back-and-forth at whim.  Now the other brother watched and, to my amazement, grew hard as he did so.  What amazing recovery time!

Lola: “Fill me.”

After the more active brother drove his point home in Lo’s rear, he pulled out and they both watched as Lo oozed, cooed, and creamed.

Then the first returned to the pole position.

I could see that Lo, by this point, was almost bored.  Her head was resting on her hands and she looked up at me, unconcerned about what was happening beyond her shoulders.

“Daddio,” she said, “will you pass me my phone?”

Her phone was on her nightstand on the other side of the bed, by the boys.  I walked around the bed, past the brother who was slamming his shaft deep into my hotwife’s pussy at the time, past the other brother who was eagerly awaiting his chance for another deep dive in her, and grabbed the phone.  I walked back around to the side of the bed by the door and passed it to Lo.

She pressed some buttons, preoccupied with the phone and not at all occupied with the activities behind her, and looked up at me again.  “If I order a pizza, what would you like on it?” she asked in a quiet voice, as if the boys and her bum were in another room and she didn’t want to disturb them.

It seemed a most unusual question for the moment.  I must have looked puzzled.  “I’m hungry,” she added by way of explanation.

“Mushrooms and onions,” I said unthinkingly.

“Oh, hi,” Lo said into her phone.  At the very same time, the first brother finished, ejaculating in long shots on Lo’s back.  I guess Lo was put on hold briefly because she was quiet for a moment.

The second brother asked Lo, “Do you want more?”  He was clearly confused by Lo’s phone call.

Lo turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Go ahead.  You can have it.  Try to be quick.”

I heard a voice from the phone ask, “Yes, can I help you?”

Lo’s attention was back to her pizza order as the boy behind her grabbed her hips and pulled them towards his erect phallus.  “Yeah, could I get one sausage pizza and one with onions and mushrooms?”

Lo Placing an Order for Pizza

The boy behind her returned to his favorite alternating ass/puss, ass/puss plunging.  I could see him spreading her cheeks with both hands as he pulled out and pressed in.

“Medium,” said Lo into the phone and then looking up at me she asked, “Medium big enough for you?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, two mediums,” she said into the phone again.  “OK.  Yes.  Delivery please.  Great.  Thank you.”  She hung up and put the phone by her side.

Allowing her head to fall into the pillow, she reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart, allowing her paramour to use his hands in other ways.  He reached under her and grabbed her doughy tum and squeezed.

“You going to cum?” Lo asked.

He grunted.

I guess she could feel him building.  “Come on.  You got two in you, don’t you?  You like my ass?  You like it,” she said.  She moved her fingers to her ass and felt him sliding in and out of her.  He was ready.  She was giving him a hand-job as he entered and exited her posterior.  Lo’s instincts kicked in and she turned abruptly and opened her mouth to receive his fill.  He grabbed his cock with one hand and her head with the other, pulling her mouth onto his shaft.  He began to cum and then pulled out of her mouth and sprayed the rest on her face.  She was drenched.

She looked up at him and asked, “Feeling better?”

The first brother already had his pants on.  The second, who had just finished, reached down to pull up his from around his ankles.

“Thanks Lo,” he said.

“Say hi to your mom,” Lo said.

“Enjoy your dinner,” he replied.

They let themselves out.

Lo fell backwards and, lying on the bed, she looked up at me and asked, “Will you get the pizza and tip the delivery guy?”

“Maybe you should.”

She contemplated that idea.  “Like I am?”

“Exactly.”

Lola Filled, but not full

When the bell rang, she walked to the door, dripping from the boys’ icing on her face and shoulders, and, opening the door, took the two pizzas in hand and gave a few dollars in tip.

I awaited her return in the dining room.

“What was his reaction?” I asked as she placed the pizzas on the table.

She laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“It was a woman.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“What was her reaction?”

“A cross between shock and disgust.”

“Too bad.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were going for shock, awe, and arousal.”

“I’ll take disgust.”

She grabbed a slice of pizza.  No plate.  She didn’t even sit down.  She stood by the table, naked, and ate it with fervor.  “Sorry, Daddy,” she said, mouth full.

“Sorry for what?”

“What I said before.  You understand, though, don’t you?”

“Yes Lo,” I said, sincerely, not sarcastically.  I felt love, compassion, and patience.  “But,” I added, “you need to clean up Stoya and the sheets.”

“I will,” she said, obediently.

I had a slice of pizza and cracked open a beer.

“Is there a reason you had the boys rather than me?” I finally asked.

“Yes,” she said, with no explanation.  She continued eating.

“Care to enlighten me?”

“I like to be used.”

“You didn’t even cum.”

“No, because I wanted Meri.  But, I’ll cum later to the thought of them and this afternoon.”

“With me or without me?”

“If you’re lucky, both.”

After dinner, she strutted to the bedroom to clean up.  I followed.

“What a mess!” she said at the sight.  “Isn’t it wonderful?!”  She dove into the bed.  “It smells like sex.”

“Just like you,” I said sarcastically.

When she got up to strip (the bed that is, since she already was naked as the day she was born) I asked her, “Who was that man talking to you in the park?”

“Oh, him?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Just a creep.  He just wanted a closer look at me.”

“You sure gave it to him.”

“You saw?” she asked, flattered that I took in her stunning act.

“Yes, I saw.  What did he give you?”

“His business card.”

“What sort of business is he in?”

“He says he’s a photographer and he asked if I would be interested in any boudoir photography done of me.”

“Really?  Where’s his card?”

She bent over by the side of the bed and dug through her little beach bag.  “Here it is.”

She gave it to me.

“I see,” I said, reading it.  “You going to take him up on it?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to?”

“Let me think about it.  Did you and Meri have a good time?”

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s at home doing exactly what you just did.”

“Eating pizza?”