“The Good Place”

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

“The Good Place”

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

“You’re already naked.”

“I have to strip the bed.  Get up.”

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

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

“What beads?”

“My anal beads, of course.”

“You are a sacrilegious sex-addict!”

“You are a silver-tonged poet!”

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

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

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

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

“Hey!” she said, “I just made that!”

“Yeah, well it was made just for me.”

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

“I don’t object to that.”

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

“What do you have to do now?”

“I have a date.”

“What?!”

“A date, with a girl.”

“What?!” I said again.

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

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

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

 

“When did you do this?” I inquired.

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

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

“No!  Didn’t you read the ad?”

“Yes, but. . .”

“No buts.”

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

“How do I look?”

“You’re missing something.”

“What?”

“A pink Easter bonnet.”

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

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

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

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

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

They ordered breakfast and mimosas.  I did too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I texted back, “Is what ok?”

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

“If that pleases you,” I texted back.

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

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

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

“Come here,” she said.

“Still love me?” I asked first.

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

“Will you tell me each and every detail?”

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

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

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

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

“You’re so slick,” I said.

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

“Now tell me,” I insisted.

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“There were ropes involved?”

“Shut up and keep fucking my ass.”

I am good at taking instructions like that.

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

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

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

“Not yet, Daddy.  I’m just soaked.”

I increased my speed and depth.

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

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

“Are you ok?” I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did Meri think you were a good girl?”

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

“You’re a very good girl,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

Pink Grapefruit

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Sun Shower“]

It was Friday.  Though I couldn’t wait to be reunited with my little nymphet, Jim and I wouldn’t be getting on the road until early the next morning.  Soon Lola, Lily, and Collin were in the Jeep on their way back to the cottage.  They got back just in time for dinner with Suzanne.  After dinner and some drinks, Lily said to Lo, “I’m feeling tired.  I’m going to bed, but why don’t you join Collin on the deck?”

Suzanne, apparently, had already gone to bed.  Always the accommodating guest, Lola took her friend’s suggestion and found Collin sipping his whiskey as he sat in a double-wide swing outside, overlooking the lake.

Lo joined him on the swing and they made some small talk before he invited her to join him in the bedroom.

“What about Suzanne?” asked Lo.

“We sleep in separate bedrooms,” said Collin.  “She sleeps with Shadow and Bandit,” he said, referring to the dogs.  “It’s been this way for a while.”

Lo followed him through the quiet house to the master bedroom.  It was enormous.  The square footage of that room alone was probably bigger than our living room and kitchen together.  It had a master bath attached in an open plan layout.  Lo said she’d like to wash up before bed.  She dropped her denim shorts, removed her cutoff top and turned on the shower.  She stepped in as Collin watched her.  There was no door on the slate tiled shower.  The water just poured down from a waterfall fountain near the high ceiling.  Lo washed up and then dried off with one of the plush terrycloth towels.

She walked over to the bed where Collin was lying in just his flannel pajama bottoms.  She must have missed the brief moment when he changed.  Sitting on the bed near him, she removed the towel and passed him a bottle of lotion she had found by the sink.

“Moisturize me,” she said.

She was lying on her tum and he began with her shoulders.  His large, strong hands gently rubbed the scented cream into her skin.  She let out a moan.  “That feels soooo good.”

Collin continued down her back and pushed up from her hips toward her shoulders in long, slow strokes.

Finally he worked his way around her bum, grabbing with his fingers and thumbs and spreading her ass cheeks apart so he could get a good look at her special spot in a slight variation from his performance the day before.

“Clean as a whistle,” he remarked, taking note of one of Lo’s most remarkable features.

“I used the pink grapefruit bodywash in the shower.”

Gettin’ a Dirty Girl Clean

“Looks it,” he said.

“Does it taste like grapefruit?” she asked.

He continued his exploration of her anatomy with his palms sliding down her thighs to her calves.  He simply ignored her question.

His hands massaged around her ankles and then her feet.  His thumbs pressed into the arch of her feet and he rubbed in sensual circles, bringing her close to climax.

Pink Grapefruit

Before she had another accident, she turned over and looked at Collin.

“Why don’t you get out of those pjs?” she asked, straining to see if he was hard.

To her great surprise, he agreed and soon he was as naked as she.  But to her greater surprise, he was as flaccid as a well-cooked strand of spaghetti, though almost as long.

“Lo,” he said in a quiet tone, “there’s something I have to tell you.”

Lo’s eyes widened.

“About twenty years ago I was badly injured in a horse riding accident.”

“Oh no,” said Lo, even before hearing the details.  She gave him space to explain.

“I was riding one of my prized stallions and I thought I had trained him a lot better than I did.  He saw a shadow or a branch or something.  Maybe he thought it was a snake.  Maybe it was a snake.  I don’t know.  It was a long time ago and it happened fast.  He reared up and threw me off.”

Lo covered her mouth as she gasped.

“The fall wasn’t that bad, but then he bucked and his rear hoof went right into my back.  I had a serious injury to my thoracic spinal nerve 11, or T-11.  For a long time I was in a wheelchair, which is why this room is on the first floor and is designed to be completely wheelchair accessible.  I had a number of surgeries and eventually, after a lot of physical therapy, I was able to walk again.  But, unfortunately,” he looked down, “I never recovered to full functioning.”

Lo looked at Collin’s lengthy, beautiful cock, longingly.

“Nothing?” she asked a little tactlessly.

“Nothing.  Suzanne and I tried everything.  For years.  Surgeries, pills, pump.  Nothing could get me hard or keep me hard.”

“No orgasm, I guess,” she asked, unable to conceal a tone of disappointment from her voice.

“Not in over twenty years.”

“Desire?”

“So much desire,” he said.

“What can I do for you?” asked Lo, always eager to please.

“Lo, your visit has been a godsend.”

“So you don’t want to finger me or have me suck you off or anything?”

“I actually just enjoy talking to you.”

“Naked?”

“Well, that makes it more interesting.”

“Can I?”

“Can you what?” he asked and then understood.  “Oh, give it the ole college try?”

Lo nodded.

“See for yourself.”

Lo wasted no time.  She got between his legs with her face and finally gave free reign to her pent-up desire.  She licked, lapped, sucked, slurped, teased, touched, kissed, caressed, pressed, pulled, stroked, sloughed, and finally ceased, all to no avail.  Not that it wasn’t fun for her, but it did not bring about her hoped for result.

Spent, she lay back and stroked herself, but, without instilling a similar arousal in her host, she quickly became bored of it.

“You’re a remarkable woman,” said Collin.

His words fell on deaf ears.  Lo couldn’t help but feel let down by her mere humanity.  She had hoped to perform a miracle.  To raise Lazarus, to bring forth a baguette from a lump of dough, to at least fulfill some longed for fantasy.

In the end the two of them just sat together on the bed and they traded fabulous story for more outrageous tale.

Sun Shower

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “A Brush with the Little Death.”]

Friday morning and Lo woke up in Lily’s arms, the sheets wet, her hairbrush buried under the covers.

Collin was already up, sitting in the chair next to the bed, drinking his coffee and reading the complimentary paper.

When he saw Lo’s eyes lock with his, a big, broad smile illuminated his face and he winked at her.

Lo carefully extricated herself from Lily’s arm draped over her breasts.  She snuck into the bathroom quietly, so as not to wake the angelic Lily.

She took a shower and while she was in there, suddenly, startling her, out of the fog entered Lily.

“Don’t worry, Lo,” she said, “I just thought we could be quicker this way.”  Lily got in the shower with Lo and the two of them soaped each other up.

“Sorry about last night,” said Lo.

Lily just snickered a bit before saying, “It was hot.”

“And wet,” added Lo, also laughing now.

“So wet!”

Lo was simultaneously embarrassed and proud of her accomplishment.

“Do you think Collin heard,” Lo asked.

“So what if he did,” replied Lily.

They rinsed off and dried each other off before entering the main room to get dressed.  Collin remained in the chair and watched them, bemused.

“Hungry girls?” he asked, ambiguously.

“So hungry,” said Lo, pulling her pink panties up.

“Mmmmm,” moaned Lily, putting on her bra.  “I can’t wait for breakfast!”

The trio went down to the restaurant and ordered up a storm.  While they were sitting there, Lo spotted her admirer from the previous day sitting at a table with his wife.  They waived at her.  She waived back.

“We’ll probably see him again at the pool today,” remarked Collin to the girls.

“What time is check-out?” asked Lily.

“One,” answered Collin.

From breakfast, they went right to the pool area.  There was no need to stop back up at the room because they could just remove their shorts, tops, panties, and bras for a quick dip.  That’s exactly what they did, though Collin remained dressed in his jeans and short sleeve shirt.  When Lo and Lily were in the pool, Lo again inquired, “What is up with your uncle?”

“What do you mean?” asked Lily.

“He hasn’t made a pass at me this entire time.  Not yesterday at the pool.  Not last night when I showed him how smooth my puss was after shaving.  Not this morning.”

“Are you trying to seduce him?” asked Lily with an air of faux judgment.

“I usually don’t have to try,” replied Lo.

“I think he just enjoys our company,” said Lily.

Lo wasn’t buying it.

When the two of them returned to the lounge chairs to tan, a number of men, many whom Lo had danced with the previous night, approached to ask permission to fool around with them.  Lo and Lily turned them all down, except one.  The married guy Lo had flirted with at the pool the day before.

“Do you have a condom?” asked Lo.

“Yes,” he said.

“Put it on,” she said.

He went back to the table where his wife was sitting and reached into her bag.  He returned with the condom.  Because he wasn’t hard yet, he asked Lo if she would mind putting it on him.

She obliged, fondling his balls and stroking his cock.  He grew hard quickly in her hand.  She was lying naked and he stood at her side.  When he was rigid, she opened the condom package and slid it on his rod.  He might have thought something else was going to happen, but Lo only stroked him over the condom as he looked at her.  She used her left hand to fondle herself and, occasionally, she looked up at him with an open mouth as if he would or could cum in it.  She knew he was about to blow and so she grabbed his member firmly in her palm and told him to cum.  She could see him cumming in the condom, filling it up with his jizz.  When he was done, he had to sit down in the chair next to Lo.

“That was amazing,” he said to her with much appreciation.

Lo looked at his middle-aged wife across the pool.  She seemed not to care.

After the man left, Lo looked at Collin, trying to discern something from his face, but all she drew was a blank.  He clearly had watched her, but what did it do for him?  She looked at his crotch.  It was big and full, as usual, but not displaying a raging hard-on, as she expected.

Lo turned over onto her tum.  She pulled out her old trick from high school.  “Collin, would you put some sunscreen on my back?” she asked.

Collin got up, put the lotion in his palm, and began applying to Lo’s shoulders.

“Lower,” she instructed.

He applied it to her back.

“Lower.”

He applied it to her lower back.

“Lower,” she said slowly.

He applied it to the dimples by her kidneys.

“Low-er,” she said even slower.

He applied it to the top of her ass.

Lo’s Ass

“Lowwww-er,” she said with a moan of pleasure.

He applied it to her ass cheeks.

She then raised her ass like a little inchworm to expose everything to the bright light of the sun, thus requiring it to get some lotion applied to it.

“Yeah,” said Lo, as Collins big hands ran between her legs, “that’s it.”

Finally getting the touch and attention she craved, she felt something welling up inside her.

“That’s enough,” she said abruptly.

Collin stopped.

Lo turned over and squeezed her legs together.

Oh shit!  Oh shit!  Why can’t I control this?!

She gushed from her pussy onto the lounge chair, causing it to rain onto the hot concrete beneath her.  Collin and Lily saw.  Lo was mortified.

“It happens sometimes,” said Lo, turning very very red in her face and on her chest.

She walked over to the showers and got under them, looking around to see if anyone saw what had just happened.

Soon the trio got dressed and packed up to leave the resort.

A Brush with the Little Death

[The mini-series Mount Bliss continues from Casual Encounters]

“Oh, I’m so tired.  I’m sure I’ll sleep well tonight.  I bet a construction crew banging away with a jackhammer wouldn’t wake me tonight!  Good night.”  Those words of Lily’s, spoken just before she went to sleep, were reverberating in Lo’s ears.  Lo lay on her back, wide awake, thinking about those words.  Was Lily trying to tell her and Collin something?  “A jackhammer.”  Hmmmm.  Was she intimating that Collin could go at it with Lo in his bed?  Was that permission?  Or was she just casually saying that she was tired, unaware of her word choice?  Lo couldn’t get the thoughts out of her mind.  She considered and reconsidered.  Do I sneak out of Lily’s arms and slide my way into Collin’s bed?  Do I jill it here, in the darkness, next to Lily, across from Collin?  Whatever she thought, falling asleep wasn’t one of the options.  She was too excited at the moment.  She looked over at Collin.  Could he see anything in the darkness?  She certainly couldn’t.  Not yet.  No motion.  No silhouette.  Was Lily asleep?  Her breathing sounded as if she was.

Art by Suzie Freeman, Model, Lola Down

Lo could feel her pussy secreting little lust-drops beneath the sheets.  She was in a strange state of arousal.  The arousal stemmed from her inability to even move.  A lithe Lily, nearly nude, lying next to her.  A lumberjack of a man indistinctly there in the near distance of the darkness.  And her own body, ready, waiting to be touched.  Longing to be fucked.  She thought about her nipples and how hard they were, unplucked in the draped stillness of the unlit room.  Her neck, unkissed, her blood rushing through the veins to her head with a steady, fast pumping.  Her earlobes, desirous of a tongue that would titillate them, of teeth that would nibble at them, and of close breath that would gently blow upon them.  Her groin ached with pain in its uncaressed longing for a tongue, a finger, a cock.  Anything, even her own soft sensation upon it, would do.  But as she was, she could not even venture down there for a quick rub.  This was a state of denial to which she was unaccustomed.  Unaccustomed?  No.  Unacquainted.  She never had to do this.  Abstain, that is.  At least not in recent memory.  It had been so long since her last good pounding.  Masturbation was fine, she thought, but fucking was finer.

The images swirled in her mind of cock, of Lily, of pussy, of her own hungry cunt.  Porn, so close on her phone, but unthinkable to turn it on.  She was turned on.  Turned on to herself.  She clenched her pussy tightly and released, trying, unsuccessfully, to induce a hands-free orgasm.  She’d heard of it done, but had never tried it.  Wait, that’s not true.  There was that time on the Buddhist retreat, in seated meditation, when she figured out how to make herself cum without moving.  But then she was seated in the lotus position.  Now she was reclining, with a body cuddling her.  Everything in the room seemed to scream of sex in the still, deafening silence.

She ever so carefully, so slowly, so gently removed the draped arm of Lily from over her torso and placed it with all due dexterity beside the body to which it belonged.  She surreptitiously slid her bare legs over to the edge of the bed.  She furtively felt for the carpeted floor beneath her.  She found it.  She sat up, silently.  She assessed the situation.  Lily sleeping.  Collin alone in his bed.  She snuck, slow as a sloth, from her bed to his.  She got under the covers next to him.  She gently kissed his shoulder, his bicep, he chest, his neck, his lips.  His eyes opened without the slightest surprise.  He kissed her back.  She moved her hand down between his legs and felt his enormous, hard rod eager for her caress.  She slid her palm up and down the shaft.  Long, luxurious strokes.  He kissed her more passionately.  She positioned her body over his and slid down, her wet pussy dripping down the inside of her thighs.  She felt the girth of his member stretch her lips wide as she shifted and rocked gently to accommodate all that he had to offer.  In he entered, like a large rocket docking in the mothership.  She took it tip to base, a satisfied grin on her face.  He met her descending movements with ascending thrusts.  Soon they became more forceful.  He wanted to dominate her, to own her cunt with his cock.  Using his strong arms, he rolled her over onto her tum in the bed and he got behind her.  She positioned herself like a bitch in heat, waiting to take his firm meat between her fleshy pussy lips.  He didn’t hold back.  He entered with urgency.  He entered with command.  He entered her like a boss.  She loved it.  She lapped it up.  He put his big hands on her hips and pulled her back so that now he was standing at the end of the bed, pounding her from behind.  Bam, Bam, he rammed it home with complete disregard for the smacking sound his hips made against her round ass.  Complete disregard for the fact that his young niece was sleeping in the bed next to them.  He punished her with his cock and soon he was rhythmically ramming her like the jackhammer that Lily had mentioned.  A quick whack, whack, whack, ever louder, ever faster.  Lo couldn’t keep her pleasure to herself.  She let out a moan, then a groan, then a scream.  She met his every shove of his cock with a powerful reverse shove of her ass until she was dripping and squirting for the brief intervals that he was at the threshold of her labia.  She was calling out to her god and asking for more, thanking her deities for the dick that punished her puss.  She could see out of her peripheral vision in the darkness Lily propping up her head with her arm to watch in silence.  She watched her uncle fuck her best friend.  She watched as Lola squirmed and squirted, screamed and sighed.  She watched as Collin beat the bum and swollen mons pubis of her sex-craved friend.  She watched as both of them came with ecstatic delight and collapsed upon the soaked sheets of the hotel bed next to her.  She watched with keen interest as they both panted for breath and then she said with a neutral tone of disinterested observation, “I think Lola likes you Uncle Collin.”

Actually, dear reader, none of that happened except in Lo’s racing mind as she struggled for release.  Sorry to disappoint.

But then Lola got an idea.  Yes.  It was possible.  That would do the trick.  If she could only reach to the nightstand without disturbing anyone.  She extended her right hand.  She searched around for it, groping in the darkness.  She found it!  Yes.  She pulled it back to her like Gollum grabbing the Ring that Rules Them All.  Slowly, surreptitiously, secretly, she maneuvered it under the blankets, between her legs, into her wet, wide pussy.  The shape and curvature of the handle of her hairbrush fit just so, snugly inside her where she could flex her Kegel muscles on it, giving her the sensation of a cock, deeply lodged inside her.

Good in a Pinch

Yes, yes, that was it.  That was the spot she needed to hit.  With her right hand she could gently move the brush, wiggling it side-to-side, up-and-down, deeper in, a little out.

She was perfectly primed and ready.

But wait!  Of fuck!  I hadn’t thought of this, I hadn’t planned on. . . fuuuuuuuuuuuck.  The orgasm.  The climax.  The clenching of the walls of her cunt, pushing the brush handle out the way it pushes out cock when cumming hard.  The inevitable squirting.  Fuck fuck fuck!  The gripping of the sheets with her fists.  The biting of the lip.  The convulsing of the stomach muscles.  The necessity for silence.  And then the great relief as the waves of pleasure and pain ebbed and flowed through her veins.

And then the embarrassment as Lily squeezed her tightly, kisses her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “It’s ok.”

A.O.L.

[Continued from Fast, Wet, & Slippery]

 

After the long day at the lake and the suggestive movie, when Lo and Lily went to bed that night, Lo got up the guts to ask Lily, “What did you mean when you told me that lying out in the sun naked here is no different than being naked in front of your dad?”

Lily laughed a little and said, “You know we’re French, right?”

“You mean, like French French?  I mean, born there?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I thought I mentioned it.”

“Well, you might have said in passing that your family is French, but I thought that was a few generations ago.”

“No, my dad and his brother Collin came here just before I was born, like twenty-three years ago or so.”

“But they have no accent!”

“Their parents were diplomats and they were raised half in America and half in France.  But even in France, they went to the American School.”

“Oh.”

“And your mom?”

“My mom is from D.C.  My dad met her when he was at the French Embassy here.”

“Oh.”

“So, in France we always vacation in the south and it’s pretty much all nude beaches there.  That’s all I meant by that.  Nothing kinky.”

“Oh, I see.  And so Collin was just interested in Blue is the Warmest of Color because he’s French and it’s a French movie?”

“Probably,” she snickered.  “That, and he’s a horny fuck.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He is!  Haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, he has been showing me a lot of attention.”

“A lot of attention?!  Come on, Lo!  You know that there’s something between you two.”

Lo blushed and admitted, “OK, I know he wants me, but what about your Aunt Suzanne?  I mean, she’s got to know something’s up.”

“I think that they have an understanding,” she said with a knowing, mysterious smile.

“What makes you think that?”

“I have my ways,” said Lily, delighting in the unspoken.

“Do you think that Collin is trying to encourage you and me to play?”

Lily said nothing.

“Or me and Suzanne?”

Lily again said nothing.

“Come on Lily!  You have to have some take on it.  I mean, if you know that they have an understanding, you must have some idea what Collin’s up to with that porno film he showed us.”

“Lo!  It wasn’t a porno film.  It won tons of awards!”

“It was porn and he meant for us to view it that way.”

“It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“I’m not denying that,” said Lo, who was simultaneously and unconsciously playing with her pussy beneath the covers, “but paint drying turns me on.  I want to know what Collin’s plan is?  What’s he scheming?”

Lo leaned toward Lily, who was sitting on the bed not far from Lo, and Lo said in a whisper, “Or did you suggest the movie?”

“Meeeee?” squealed Lily, playing innocent.  “I didn’t.  Why?  Do you want to seduce me?”

“Do you want me to seduce you?  To finger you the way those two girls did?”

“Oh no,” said Lily, to Lo’s great disappointment.

“No?” repeated Lo in disbelief.  She’s not used to being turned down.

“No fingering me.  No.  I’m A-O-L.”

“What?”

“Anal Only Lifestyle.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what it says.  I only do anal.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’ve never met anyone who only did anal.  I mean, I’ve met lots of people who swear never to do anal, but not the other way around.”

“Well, I’m not only French, I’m also Catholic.”

Lo laughed.  “What’s that have to do with anything?”

“A lot!  You see, the Church teaches that sex before marriage is wrong.”

“You didn’t buy that B.S., did you?”

“I did!  And before I was married, I tried to be a good girl.”

“But anal sex,” Lo began to say, putting the pieces together.

“Anal sex isn’t sex, and so, I was a good little anal slut in high school.  I never had sex – according to the Church – but I had lots of loads up my ass.  I grew to really like it.  No, to love it.  And so, even now, it’s only anal for me, even though I’m married.”

“Really?!” asked Lo in disbelief.

“I’m still, technically, a virgin.”

“How’s Jim feel about that?” asked Lo with deep curiosity.

“Oh, he’s such a romantic,” she said, almost dismissively.  “He wants so badly to take my virginity.  But I’ve held off.”

“Why?”

There was a long pause and the conversation turned serious as Lily pondered the simple question.

“I guess,” she began slowly, “I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid he might not like it or. . . maybe I won’t like it.  You know how small he is.”

Lo knew very well.

“I guess I prefer that he just keep on banging my backdoor than take a chance on coming in the front.”

Anal Anime

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lola

Fast, Wet, & Slippery

Since the story of what happened that week was leaked to me piece-by-piece through various curt emails and similarly brief phone calls, punctuated by alluring photos with suggestive texts, I’ll just tell you the story that I heard when Lo and I were finally reunited together at Collins lakeside cabin.

Fun Bum

Tuesday night Lily, Lo, and Collin returned to the farm-to-table restaurant to have the meal that they had helped harvest earlier that day.  Lo was dusty and disheveled due to all the work, but the restaurant’s dress code was quite lax.  They had what Lo described as one of the most scrumptious meals of her life.  It was just the three of them at a small, candle-lit table.  Collin regaled them with stories.

Back at the cottage, Lo and Lily went to bed early again, exhausted from all the day’s activities.  Lo repeated her solo performance of the night before, telling Lily as she rubbed one out how hot she finds Lily’s Uncle Collin.  She went through a little fantasy of spending time with him in a hotel room somewhere away from her Aunt Suzanne.

The next day was a crystal clear blue sky reflected in the still mirror-like water of the lake.  Collin, pleased and almost proud of the weather as if it was his handywork, said they’d spend the day on the boat.  Lo and Lily got into their bikinis and, after breakfast, they got into the speedboat and departed, without Suzanne again.  She and the dogs, Shadow and Bandit, were on the dock as the boat pulled away.  She wished them a fun time and returned to the house as the trio sped off, sending ripples across the lake’s surface.

When they got to the middle of the lake, Collin stopped the boat and turned to the girls, asking, “Want to have some fun?”

Lily’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the tubes and threw them behind the boat, careful to avoid the motor.  Lo was confused, but Lily literally showed her the ropes.  The two of them got on top of the inner tubes and held on to the rope, tethered to the boat.

“Don’t go too fast!” called Lily to Collin.  Then she showed Lola the hand-signals for: faster, slower, stop.

Collin gave the thumbs-up sign.  Lily turned to Lo and asked, “Ready?”

Not sure what was going to happen, Lo gave a frightened nod.

Lily gave the thumbs-up sign back to Collin and away they went.

The tubes bounced off the waves made by the boat as they scudded across the surface of the lake, slowly at first, but with gradually increasing speed.  Lo held on tightly and was having a fun, if terrifying, time.

They danced across the nearly vacant lake, making large figure eights and tight circles.  But then Lo felt something that made her apprehensive.  She could feel the bottoms of her bikini sliding off with the resistance of the waves splashing over her.  She put up her hand on her head to indicate stop, but Collin didn’t see until it was too late.  About fifty yards back were her yellow bikini bottoms floating on the water.  She was lucky they floated.  Actually, she would have been find either way I guess.

When they realized what had happened, Lily and Collin had a good laugh.  Lo let go of the rope and swam, her naked bum bouncing in the water, as she retrieved her bottoms.

She put them on in the water and tied the strings tightly.

They continued the tubing adventure until, when Collin stopped the boat again, Lo lifted up her head to listen to what he was saying.  She couldn’t hear him over the sputter of the engine, so he did pantomime.  Then she realized that he was telling her that her top had fallen down.  The waves had pushed her bikini top down below her tits.  They laughed again at her public exposure.

When the trio returned to the cottage and docked the boat, the girls decided to lie out and sunbathe.

Collin joked that since Lo’s bikini was so averse to staying on her body, she should just tan in the buff.  Lo took him at his word and asked, “Is that ok?”

“Sure,” he said with a wide grin.

Both Lo and Lily removed their bikinis and lay out in the noontime sun while Collin and Suzanne waited on them hand and foot.

At one point, when Collin and Suzanne were inside, Lo turned to Lily next to her and asked, “Don’t you feel a little awkward nude in front of your uncle?”

Lily looked at Lo, smiled mysteriously, and simply said, “Nah.  It’s no different than being naked in front of my dad.”

Lo went back to sipping her G&T wondering what that meant.

The rest of that day was spent lounging around the house, swimming, playing badminton, horseshoes, and cornhole, all in the nude outside while Suzanne and Collin, dressed, looked on like two proud parents.  A few boats slowed down as they passed about a hundred yards from the shore, enamored of the view, no doubt.  That night they all stayed in and watched a movie.  Of course Collin chose, Blue is the Warmest Color, which neither Lo nor I had seen, despite all the adulation and criticism it received.

By the time they watched it, Lo and Lily had showered and were dressed, but that didn’t stop Lo from stroking her pussy surreptitiously under a blanket during that eight minute long steamy sex scene.  She wondered, of course, what Collin or Collin and Suzanne were scheming by putting that particular movie on for “the girls” to watch.

I’m cumming for you

Hallmark of a Happy Hotwife

 

Lola helps her bf cum

Writing is a solitary act.  Writing a sex blog is not.  Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.

“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.

Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean?  Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”

After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.  I love helping couples cum together.”

My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.

A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.

“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.

“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.

“Justin.”

“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”

Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.

“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.

“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”

“What is?”

“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”

“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”

“I recommend you get it hard.”

“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.

“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”

One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him.  She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men.  The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”

One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.

“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.

“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.

“Do men just want to see your pussy?”

“No,” she said, “women do too.”

“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”

She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“Oooo, what sort of game?”

“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”

“Funny, but no.  Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”

“I can’t, I have to get to work.”

“Just bend me over and fill me up.”

“It’s not a Quickie Mart.  I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”

“Why not?”

I walked over to her.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart.  I touched her inner thigh.

“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Then I should be doing you.  I wanted you last night,” she said.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”

“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”

“You didn’t say you wanted me.”

“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”

“I like to hear you say it.”

She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed.  She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips.  “Get back in bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“What do you want?”

“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”

I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit.  “OK.”

She fondled me more.  “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”

“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”

“Fuck me.”

Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”

“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me.  I’m always open.”

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a lot of things to do.  You were just first on the list.”

I went to work.  It was her “work at home” day.  Yeah, right.

When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.

“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said.  “Feed me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your meat.”

This was as close as a request as I was going to get.  I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her.  I reached down between her legs.

“You’re sopping wet.”

“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”

“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.

“I jilled it this morning.”

“Without me?!”  Again, faux-surprise.

“I got lonely.”

“Lonely or horny?”

“Both.”

“So you jilled it all morning?”

“Not all morning.  It went into the afternoon.”

“And you still want me now?”

“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.

“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”

“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”

“What do you think this is, golf?”

“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”

“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.

I was poised to penetrate her.  She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit.  She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.”  Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that.  Yes.”  Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”

I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you.  I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”

“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my lunch.  That’s what I came home to do.”

“But what about me?” she whined.

“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”

“And diddling my bean!”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”

“Don’t go!” she pleaded.

“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”

“Get in the bed and fuck me.”

“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”

“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”

“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.

“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”

“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”

I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.

I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”

It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”

“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling out.  “I’m going to go out for lunch.”

I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.

I popped back in and looked at her.

“Unarmed?” I asked.

Another pillow flew at me.  I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.

Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”

“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”

“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”

I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”

When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.

“It’s not a sundress.  It’s a shirt.”

“Well, it should be a sundress.  What an ass!  You look great in that sundress!”

“It’s not a sundress!”

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“No.  But I think it’s cute that you want to.”

“You look so good.  Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”

When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.

“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up.  Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.

“What?”

“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”

“Robert?!  Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  I should have told you.”

“When did these plans happen?”

“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.

“Lo.”

“After you left.  I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”

“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.

“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.

“No,” I said.  “I’m tired and I’m hungry.  I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”

“That still might happen,” she said.  “The night is young.”

“And I’m old.”

“You can say that again.”

“And I’m old.”

“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”

“You weren’t even born then.”

“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you.  I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you.  You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”

I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.

Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.

“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.

“Did you jack off to it at work?”

“No!”

“Well why not?  You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know.  A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work.  I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”

“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”

“Precisely.”

“But I can fuck you at home.”

“It’s not the same.”

Just then the doorbell rang.  Robert was at the door.

“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.

“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.

“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”

“Not longer than an hour?”

“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”

I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out.  “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.

Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”

I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table.  No Robert.

She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.

One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”

“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’  You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”

“That’s funny,” she said to me.

“Shake a stick at?”

“Yeah.”

“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her.  “How was your dinner date?”

She didn’t answer my question.  She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.

She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me.  She clearly wanted me to fuck her.  But I wanted her to ask.  She said, “You have to learn to intuit.  Intuit!  Intuit!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face.  Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.

She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.

A breathy moan.

She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.

She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.

“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”

“Well, I think you need to take a break.”

“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”

“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”

“It enhances the experience.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.

She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.

She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife.  “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”

“Such a sincere sentiment.  It should go in a Hallmark card.”

“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.

“What is?”

“A line of Lola greeting cards.”

“Perhaps you could create them.  I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”

And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s quite alright.  Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm.  Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”

“I’m sorry!” she said again.

“It’s ok.  I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”

“It was hardly premature,” she said.

She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before.  Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.

“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.

I couldn’t answer.  I was too busy imagining her with Robert.

“Did you get a good meal?  Did it fill you up?  I was so full up,” she said.

I was speechless.

“Were you thinking of me, Daddy?  Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me?  Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”

“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”

“No, Daddy.  We just fucked.  He bent me over the table and fucked me.  Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table.  The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all.  Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass.  Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another.  He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care.  I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet.  Fuck me!  Fuck my holes!  I said, but he came and came deep in me.  He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”

She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum.  And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously.  So much that it came out of her nose.  She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.

“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.”  I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”

Lola’s Christmas Card

A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition

“A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition” first appeared in ENM (Ethical Non-Monogamy) Magazine, March, 2020 issue.

It was said by the renowned sex researcher, Alfred Kinsey, that “A nymphomaniac is someone who has more sex than you do.”  It would seem that modern psychology has caught up with Kinsey’s insight.  The dictionary of psychological disorders, the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), removed nymphomania from its list in 1980.  But does that mean Nymphomania no longer exists?

In popular culture “sex addiction” has been used as a catch-all for a number of “disorders” that have been named and described: hypersexuality, compulsive sexual behavior, erotomania, hyperfilia, etc.  But the DSM puts almost all of these under one listing: Sexual Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.  This heading is as ambiguous, amorphous, and as slippery as the subject itself.

However, let’s keep in in mind that no matter how something is categorized or listed, it’s not a “disorder” unless it is distressing to the person exhibiting it or has detrimental effects in one’s life.  If the result of the behavior is a net negative, then it could be labeled a disorder.  That net negative could be manifested psychologically, as in feelings of guilt and remorse, or could result in actual physical harm to oneself.  Other net negatives could include weakening of relationships, loss of a job, or other harms external to oneself.

Fan, getting off to Lo at work

In modern European and American culture, nymphomania has as checkered a past as the women diagnosed with it.  Even though there is a male correlate to it – satyriasis – the two labels have been employed in radically different ways.  Historically, the ascription of “nymphomaniac” has been applied to women who, had their gender been ascribed to men and the behaviors described as those of men, rarely would they be described as afflicted with satyriasis.  In other words, historically, women exhibiting the same healthy and robust sexuality of men would be diagnosed with a disorder while their male counterparts gained the praise and admiration of others as Don Juans.

But, in the last decade or so, with the rise of internet porn, the term “sex addict” has been increasingly utilized in less stereotypical and gender specific, patriarchal ways.  Famous actors such as Rob Lowe, David Duchovny, and Charlie Sheen all have come out as being sex addicts, making it easier for others to do so.

Despite the DSM debunking the myth of nymphomania and our modern society’s willingness to embrace a more gender-neutral term applicable to men and women, the term “nymphomania” and its connotations continues to live on in the culture’s consciousness and the collective unconscious.

Fan, getting off to Lo

Nymphomania is a concept that has a history to it almost as old as civilization itself.  In Jewish lore there was Lilith, the contemporary or predecessor of Eve, who refused to be subservient to Adam and, supposedly, insisted on taking the “top” position during sex.  Her name is derived from the Hebrew for “night” and she is associated with other female night demons who seduce men.  As such, she is a succubus.  This tale probably has its origin in explaining men’s nocturnal emissions.

Throughout history, assertive women and sexually promiscuous women have been associated with the demonic.  Accusing a woman of being a witch was one way of marginalizing or eradicating powerful and lustful women.  In more recent times, diagnosing them as hysterical was another.  Perhaps if we rewrote history as “hystery” (from the Greek, hyster, meaning “womb”) we would have different stories to tell.  But, from the ancient Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, in which the goddess of love, Ishtar, unsuccessfully tries to seduce the hero, and the temple prostitute, Shamhat, successfully seduces and thereby defiles the natural man of the wild, Enkidu, to Helen of Troy, whose face and unfaithful figure launched a thousand ships, to the Sirens and Calypso, all the way through to Gatsby’s fair Daisy Fay Buchanan, wanton women have been revered and rebuked by the West’s confused attitude toward female sexuality.

In the West, only Virgins, like Mary, and doting, devoted wives, like Penelope and Henry James’ Isabel Archer, get univocal approval.

(The East, by contrast, is not as uncomfortable with strong, sexual, and wise women.  From Cali to Guan Yin, not only are they revered and worshiped, but even the gender ambiguity of Vishnu is given prominence.)

Even in the contemporary medium of myth-telling – movies – the nymphomaniac is never depicted as anything but pathological and her fate is always a morality tale told from the point of view of the negative exemplar.  Lolita, the touchstone of our modern-day horny heroine, has been made into a movie twice: once in 1962 by Kubrick and once in 1997 by Adrian Lyne.  Based upon the classic book by Nabokov, the films and the book stand in a league of their own.  The ultimate fate of Nabokov’s Lolita (spoiler alert) is morally ambiguous.  Clearly a letdown to the pedophile protagonist, Humbert Humbert, when he finds his life-long love at the end of the book, we are never given any insight into mature Lolita’s feelings of fulfillment in family or lack thereof.  However, it is, perhaps, too hasty to say that there have only been two Lolita films made.  One of the most popular tropes in porn is Lolita.  In this way the myth of the nymph lives on and on.

Lola Down, 21st Century Lolita

Other films, such as Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac and Craig Brewer’s Black Snake Moan, put nymphomania front and center.  However, in both, the female protagonist is depicted as pitifully damaged and pathologically in need of redemption.  In the latter film, that redemption takes the form of Christina Ricci, dressed only in her panties and a cutoff t-shirt, being chained to a cast iron heating radiator by a strong black man (Samuel L. Jackson).  As psychologically dubious as this “treatment” might be, it could be said that the film gets to some deep, underlying archetypical images and fantasies buried in the American collective unconscious by playing on race, gender, and slave tropes.

The former film, Nymphomania, as drab and sexually non-stimulating as it is, does get to some diagnostic characteristics.  As Robert Weiss, founder of the Sexual Recovery Institute, has discussed in his “Thoughts on Nymphomaniac: Volume I,” in the Huffington Post, March 20, 2014:

Nymphomaniac: Volume I is “sex addiction accurate.”

  • Joe’s sexual exploits start out (rather early in life) as innocent and fun-seeking, but before long she’s using them less for enjoyment and more for escape. This is typical. Simply put, addicts of all types engage in their addictions not to feel better, but to feel less.
    • Joe views men as objects — a means to sexual gratification — rather than seeing them as equals and potential partners in emotional intimacy. When her lies actually ruin one man’s life, she feels nothing for either him or his wife and kids. Nor does she change her behavior.
    • Joe spends nearly all of her free time pursuing sex. She has no other interests or hobbies.
    • Joe’s sexual activity escalates in both amount and intensity. She has more and more partners as her addiction progresses, and she engages in ever-more risky behaviors.
    • Joe’s response to any sort of emotional crisis is sex. When her father is terminally ill in the hospital, she has sex with an attendant. Later, she experiences sexual arousal at his deathbed.
    • Joe seeks a sense of control and power through sex. For instance, she ‘allows’ or ‘forbids’ certain activities. At one point she speaks to Seligman about ‘privileges’ granted to one of her regular sex partners. Using sex to feel ‘in control’ is common with sex addicts, especially with female sex addicts.
    • Joe appears to have not bonded appropriately with her ‘cold hearted bitch’ of a mother, relying on her father for kindness and nurture. Her childhood flashbacks show that she learned ways to ‘please’ her father, and that doing so was incredibly important. Even though their relationship does not appear to have been sexual or otherwise abusive, it is clear that she learned early on that the way to get love from men is to please them. This type of dysfunctional childhood bonding is common in sex addicts of both genders.
    • By the end of the film, Joe’s entire life (not just her sex life) has become ‘monotonous and pointless.’ She compares her daily movements to those of a caged animal. Everything she does is rote and repetitious, and nothing has any meaning — especially not the sex. At one point she says to a partner, during sex, ‘I can’t feel anything,’ and it is clear that she is talking about both physical numbness and emotional numbness.

Though Weiss points out in the article that female sex addicts are often ascribed “highly shaming labels” such as nympho, slut, tramp, and whore, “that society routinely attaches to women who have a lot of sex, regardless of whether they do so because they enjoy it” or not, he does not in any way discuss the possibility of a positive nymphomaniacal experience in which those labels are coopted into accolades.

The linguist Geoff Nunberg has pointed out that many one-time derogatory and profane words have been coopted and reappropriated by the subjugated, marginalized, and oppressed populations against whom the slurs were originally leveled.  As he says about the term “slut,” “after a Toronto police constable told a crime prevention meeting that women should avoid dressing like sluts if they don’t want to be victimized,” “slut walks” served as a way “to protest the whole culture of slut-shaming.”  He points out that, “it is hard to imagine ‘slut’ being reclaimed the way ‘queer’ was, as a respectable label for academic programs and cultural centers.” (“Slut: The Other Four Letter S-Word,” on Fresh Air, WHYY, NPR, March 13, 2012)

This sort of reevaluation of values is exactly what Lo is literally embodying, pushing psychology today to free itself from the prejudices of patriarchy.  She wears the labels “slut,” “tramp,” “whore,” and yes, “nymphomaniac” proudly (and she often wears little else).  Between us, we use the words “nymphomania” and “slut” as honorifics rather than stigmatizing terms.  Every slur can be reclaimed and used subversively by the oppressed.

There is some evidence that lustful, liberated women are making inroads into the tyranny of normativity.  Thinkers such as Rollo May have proposed a theory of the daimonic, hearkening back to the origin of “demonic” as coming from the Greek “daimon.”  For the Greeks, daimon meant something more akin to a personal deity; a guiding angel, you might say, rather than a guardian angel.

May uses the term “daimonic” to denote a drive that is not univocal in nature and, in one word, is akin to Freud’s dual Eros/Thanatos drives.  As May says of the daimonic, it “has the power to take over the whole person.  Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples.  The daimonic can be either creative or destructive and is normally both.”  (May, Rollo, Love and the Daimonic, p. 123)  It is worth mentioning here that, before May and Freud, there was a theory of human psychology in Judaism that posited two chambers in the heart: the yetzer tov and the yetzer ra.  The former, “the impulse for good,” and the latter, “the impulse for evil,” worked in tandem and the rabbis believed that neither was “evil” (unlike the proverbial Christian good angel and devil on one’s shoulders), but that the yetzer ra was a force that propelled humans to creativity and sexual union, but it needed to be bent toward the yetzer tov in order to avoid its destructive tendency and be sublimated into socially acceptable expressions and activities that benefited society.  One can easily see the parallels between that and Freud’s Eros/Thanatos theory.  Perhaps “parallel,” is too benign.  Maybe Freud was more plagiarizing from his own tradition.  In line with this theory of complementarity, May has said, “The daimonic (unlike the demonic, which is merely destructive), is as much concerned with creativity as with negative reactions.”  (Diamond, Stephen A., Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic: The Psychological Genesis of Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic, from the Forward by Rollo May, p. xxi)

In the nymphomaniac, the daimonic drive has been described as a propensity toward indiscriminate, compulsive, and often risky sexual behavior.  To the extent that this is dangerous, harmful, and results in negative net results, it is “pathological.”

But that’s not the whole story.

As was mentioned above, the daimonic is also the engine driving creativity and the nymphomaniac can use her prurient powers for good, positive, “healthy” outcomes.  As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the pioneer psychologist in the study of “flow” or “optimal experience,” has said, “One manifestation of energy is sexuality. Creative people are paradoxical in this respect also. They seem to have quite a strong dose of eros, or generalized libidinal energy, which some express directly into sexuality.”  (Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly, “The Creative Personality,” Psychology Today, 1996, p. 38) I believe that the reverse of this is true as well: One manifestation of sexuality is creative energy.  Perhaps that is because, as Csikszentmihalyi also says, “a certain spartan celibacy is also a part of [the creative person’s] makeup; continence tends to accompany superior achievement. Without eros, it would be difficult to take life on with vigor; without restraint, the energy could easily dissipate.”  (Ibid.)  Of course, the nymphomaniac is characterized by her lack of “continence,” but that does not mean that her prodigal participation in pleasure isn’t also a creative, artistic, and perhaps even a performative act.  Seeing sex and art as two separate realms is the fundamental error in this analysis.  Sex can be every bit a creative endeavor, full of “flow” and genius as a Picasso or Pollock painting.  The only difference being that the “results” are fleeting, ephemeral, perhaps even “dissipated.”

In my particular case, I would say that writing about Lola Down, my own personal high priestess of porn and beloved nymphomaniac, is also a result of the daimonic and the writing often flows of its own accord in peak moments, like autographia.  According to Csikszentmihalyi, flow is the experience of intense concentration during creative endeavors.  For me, that describes the act of writing.  For Lo, that describes the act of fucking.  For me, the restraint and “continence” is crucial to produce just the right amount of effulgent energy.  But for Lo, her creative power may be more akin to “the woman who identifies with the archetypal role of Muse or femme inspiratrice, providing sexual love to artists.” (Diamond, Stephen A., “What Motivates Sexual Promiscuity?” Psychology Today, 2011)

This is not to say that Lo doesn’t have her own creative endeavors, her own talents, interests, and areas of outstanding achievement.  Far from it!  But she does love being celebrated as muse, not only by me, but by all the artists who have been inspired to draw or paint her, as well as those who have written lovely verse and prose to her and about her.  In addition, she frequently hears from women and men and couples who credit her as an inspiration in the bedroom.  Frequently these accolades are accompanied by “tribute” photos of the men, women, and couples cumming to her inspiring images.

As much as all this worship is proudly welcomed by Lo, it is also of concern how many people – mostly men, but some women – write in to lament that, for them, the nymphomaniac is akin to some sort of mythical figure, a unicorn, a phoenix, or the Holy Grail.  These awestruck admirers cannot believe that one actually exists, in the flesh, as it were.  They had heard rumor of such creatures, but had never met one or received confirmation of their reality.  Lo, like the Holy Grail, is for them a receptacle into which they can pour forth all of their hopes and dreams (and bodily exuberances) and also a cup that runneth over, spilling forth for all who thirst for her baptismal water.

Is this perceived paucity of nymphos due to the stigma attached to the term, repression of sexuality, or a failure to recognize and reclaim the term in a positive light?  I don’t have the answer to these questions, but one thing was clear early on in my relationship with Lo – I was unable to find anyone writing about their nymphomaniacal girlfriend and the great challenges such relationships entail.  So I began writing about it in a public forum in order to inform others and also to find out if others could inform me.  It’s been a fun and enlightening journey and I thank all of you for your words of wisdom, encouragement, and envy.  But most of all, I thank Lo for opening me up to all new vistas of life’s possibilities.

email downloladown@gmail.com for more info

Naughty Schoolgirl & Her Daddy

Happy Valentine’s Day!

It was the week before Valentine’s Day.  Lo and I had planned a mini-vacation weekend to ski country.  I had booked us a special room at a resort hotel that included a wood-burning fireplace, a kitchenette, and, at the central fitness area, there was an indoor/outdoor heated pool, an indoor hot tub and a second outdoor hot tub.  We were right on the mountain – ski off/ski in.

We arrived at night and since Lo had been diddling herself and telling me sordid stories from her past the whole drive there, she immediately got naked as I unpacked and brought in the groceries we had bought for the weekend.

She lay on the bed, legs spread, saying, “Daddy, don’t you want this?” as she slapped her pussy lips with her right hand.

I glanced at Lo’s untrimmed triangle and said, “Lo, that bush is so hot it’s on fire!”

“The burning bush, Daddio, the symbol of God on earth.”

“You said it!  Just give me a minute to get this fire going and I’ll tend to yours.”

I stoked the fireplace and got it roaring and casting flickering yellow light in a few moments.  Then I began to remove my shirt.

“Slowly, Daddy,” said Lo, “I want to enjoy this.”

I took off my clothes very slowly for Lo’s entertainment and then climbed into bed with her.  The heat in the room was already pretty warm when we got there and before long she and I were creating quite a sweat.  It was like a Bikram yoga studio in there.  Mid-coitus we both had to stop and open up the sliding glass door that led out onto the mountain.  I swear I could see the snow melting as the warm air escaped our room!

Lo got up and went into the shower.  I heard the water streaming, the steam flowing out of the bathroom into the hot living room where I sat reading a book, and out the door into the cool mountain air, illuminated by the full moon in the clear night sky.  After almost an hour, I heard her shrieks of ecstasy as she came multiple times.

She finally walked out of the bathroom, naked, revealing that her previously shag-like pubic area was now silky smooth.  “I’m ready for you now,” she said.

“Good water pressure?” I asked.

“So good.”

“Bend over,” I commanded.  She bent over the couch of the living room and I saw her ass, illuminated by the dancing flames from the fireplace.  Cool air rushing in, hot air rushing out, Lo’s wet body in front of me, the fire behind me – it was as if we were in the womb of the earth with the primordial elements swirling about us, performing the holy act of creation.

I spread the two half-moons of her ass and applied my tongue to the central pleasure point.  She let out a moan.  I got on my knees and licked from back to front and back again as she spread her legs in the widest upside-down “V” that she could.  Now it was like a Tantra yoga session.

I turned around, sat on the floor with my back up against the front of the couch and Lola slid her inner thigh up and down over my extended tongue.  She came and she squirted right on me as I sat under her!  I lapped it up as best I could.

“Fuck me, Daddy!” she demanded as she now turned, bent over the coffee table and I got behind her.  Within mere seconds she was convulsing again.  When Lo gets this excited, she involuntarily contracts the walls of her vagina and, despite my best efforts, squeezes me right out.  It happened like that as she fell to her knees and ejaculated on the carpet.

“I’m sorry!  I’m sorry!” she called out as it was happening.

“Don’t be,” I said, watching her with bemusement.

I grabbed some paper towels from the kitchenette and cleaned up after her.

“I’m so sorry.  I’m so embarrassed.  I feel like a puppy that needs to be housebroken.”

I laughed.

The next day we skied for a good few hours.  We called it quits around three and then made plans for dinner.

We weren’t too far from a descent sized college town and Lo, foodie that she is, had already scoped out the best eats for a romantic dinner.  She picked out my clothes for me saying, “This is a classy place.  You can’t just go there in jeans, you know.”  She followed it up with, “I wish you’d let me go shopping for you.  All your clothes make you look like a stuffy old professor.  Tweed?  Really?  Tweed?”  She was referencing my dinner jacket.  Nonetheless, she got me as presentable as humanly possible.

She, herself, was dressed to the nines.  She loves any occasion to get dolled up.  She wore a tight-fitting red dress that came down just past her knees and highlighted her curves.  She wore strappy, flesh colored heels and to me she looked fabulous.  The painful paradox about her amazing good looks and impeccable fashion taste is that as soon as she gets dressed up like that, I want to immediately rip off all her clothes and have her naked.  The happiest solution to that paradox is to slip up her dress and do her from behind as she stands bent over the bed in her heels.  But that was not to be on this occasion.  She was too well put together for me to mess it all up with a wild romp before dinner.

When we got on the road it was still light out and I had recently got my hair cut shorter than usual.  Lo looked over at me from the passenger seat and ran her hand through my hair and said, “Every time you get a haircut it brings out more grey.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I mean it in a good way,” she said.  “You look hot with all that salt and pepper.”

“You sure you don’t just mean I look old?”

“Old and hot,” she said and then she leaned back, spread her legs, and grabbed my hand and placed it on her smooth knee.  “Touch me.”

I caressed her knee.

“Keep going,” she instructed, meaning, keep working my way up her inner thigh.  She pulled her dress up, spread her legs further apart, putting a foot up on the dash, “You know the drill.”  I leaned over a bit in order to put my hand on her crotch and stroke.  Just as I did so, we almost got hit by an oncoming car swerving into our lane.  “Hey!  Two hands on the wheel!” Lo called out, clamping her legs together.

“But he. . .”

“And drive the speed limit.”

“Sweetheart, that says Route 5, not 5 miles per hour.”

“Oh.”

We avoided dying a gruesome death on the highway and pulled into a quaint little college town nestled in the foothills of the mountains.

“Wow,” said Lo, “Look at that sign.  It’s so retro.”

She was talking about a big sign over a diner that looked vintage 1950’s.

“I don’t think it’s retro, I think it’s just old,” I replied.

“No, it’s a classic.”

“Like me?  Am I a classic?”

“No.  You’re an antique.”

Soon we were at our destination.  It was in one of the tallest buildings in town, a five story hotel.  The restaurant was on the top floor.  Lo and I walked into the lobby and got an elevator all to ourselves.  Once the doors closed, she leaned up against me, kissing me and reaching for my crotch.

“Hey,” I protested, “there’s a camera in here, you know.”

“Even better,” she said as she pushed her breasts up in the tight dress for me to kiss.

The doors opened into a crowded bar that led to the restaurant.

Apparently, this was the only fine food in town since almost every table was full.  Luckily Lo had called ahead of time to make reservations and we were seated next to an older couple (yes, even older than I by about twenty years) and because the tables for two were spaced in close proximity to each other, Lo and I politely said hello and smiled.  The older couple was very gregarious and immediately started up a conversation with us.  Lo and I quickly realized that they were under the impression that I was Lo’s father and I was visiting her here at her college.  We did nothing to disabuse them of that notion and we played along with a secret maliciousness shared between us that excited us both.  All through the conversation, Lo’s sexy foot was rubbing my leg up and down under the table.

The words that Lo usually saves for private, intimate moments were spoken freely and publicly, such as, “Thank you, Daddy, for coming. . . to visit me.”

“It’s my pleasure, little girl,” I responded, “I love coming. . . to visit.  And I love it when you come. . . home to visit me too.  I want you to come. . . more often.”

“Oh, Daddy, I promise to come as much as I can.”

This sort of silly banter gave us a perverse pleasure and I could see the desire in Lo’s eyes increasing as she played the role of naughty schoolgirl.

She was so eager to get back to the suite, that we skipped dessert.  The older couple was having their (decaf) coffee after their meal when we got up to leave.  We wished them a good night and they wished me a good visit.  I politely helped Lo into her jacket, and then, as we walked out of the restaurant, I put my hand on her ass in a very possessive manner.  We walked to the elevator, and in there she wrapped her body around mine and kissed me passionately.  The doors opened to the lobby and I had to tap her to indicate that we were a spectacle to be seen by anyone in the lobby.  She pulled herself off of me and straightened out her dress before walking into the lobby.  I followed her and, to my surprise, she pulled me down a hall off to the right of the lobby.

“What?  Where are you going?” I asked.

“Just shut up and follow me.”

Neither of us had ever been in this hotel before and so I wasn’t sure what she was doing.  She opened up a door that led into a large linen closet filled with folded sheets and towels.  She shut the door behind us and turned on the lights.

“Daddy, I can’t wait until we get home,” she said as her right hand unzipped my fly and reached in to fondle my cock and her left hand hiked up her dress, reached up and under it, and began rubbing her clit over her panties.

“Lo!” I protested.

“Shhhh!” she commanded.

“Lo, what if someone walks in here?”

“The maids only use this to make the beds in the morning.  Don’t worry.  We’re safe here for now.  If you’d be quiet, this will only take a few seconds.”

She was pulling on my cock and rubbing her clit vigorously.  She looked at my erection and I could see by the weakness of her knees that she really only had seconds to go before. . .

“Oh, oh, OH!” she called, biting her lip, trying to contain the volume of her orgasm.  She let go of my member and fell back into the shelves on the wall.  She leaned up against it for support as her fingers continued to rub out the orgasm to completion.  I saw the panties transform from light pink to almost red as her ejaculate oozed through the material.  Luckily she had enough towels for an army to soak up the wetness running down her inner thigh.  When she was done pleasuring herself and drying off, she removed her soaked panties and wrapped them in a dry, white towel, putting them in her purse.  She through the dirty towels on the floor so no one would mistake them for the clean ones and she straightened her dress, pulling it down by the hem, and asked, “Do I look ok?”

“You look great,” I said, trying to put my erection back into my pants with difficulty.

“Really?”

“Yeah.  Just a little flush in the face.”

I got my manhood to stand straight, but inside my boxers, and I zipped up my fly, tucked in my shirt and said, “I’m going to need a minute.”

Lo looked longingly at my crotch and said, “Oh yeah.”

Lo leaned in to kiss me full of passion.

“Lo,” I said, pulling back, “you’re not helping the situation.”

She and I stood awkwardly in the closet waiting for the emblem of my desire to subside.

A mere five or six minutes after we entered the linen closet, we walked out of it, apparently unnoticed.

We got into the car and she laughed at our mischievousness.  Before we had even driven out of the parking lot, she had my fly undone, my cock out, and her face in my lap.

We got back to our little suite and, as she slipped out of the tight dress, I got the fire roaring and soon we were at it with her calling to me, “Daddy, fuck me!  Fuck me, Daddy!”  It took mere seconds before she was cumming again.

Impressive Size

[Prequel to Breeding Farm]

“It’s so big!” gasped Lo.  “It’s beautiful.  Stunning.  I just can’t believe it.”  She truly was impressed.  We had just pulled up in the driveway of Lily’s uncle’s mountain resort home.  Her uncle was traveling around Europe and, since Lily was one of his favorites, he gave her permission to use it and to host friends.  We happened to be the friends that she and Jim chose to invite up for a long weekend.

The air was crisp and the sky was clear and blue and radiant.  All the trees on the mountain were in their peak of autumn perfection.  We had the whole secluded house to ourselves.

Lily showed us around the grounds and gave us a tour of the home.  Then she showed us to our quarters.  The bed was enormous!  The bathroom and bathtub were almost as big!!!  This would be fun.  Lo and I looked at each other knowingly, expectantly.

Since it took us quite a while to get up there, winding through the dangerous mountain switchbacks, we made some dinner and then had some drinks.  We were all tired from the trip and Lo and I were eager to get to bed and get to each other.

Lo All Wet

She got naked and hopped into the clear glass encased shower as I drew a bath in the tub.  From inside her little chamber, she pressed her tits up against the glass and then turned and pressed her ass up against it as she used the hand-held showerhead to massage between her legs.

She came a couple of times, struggling to keep her screams to herself.  Then she emerged from the shower and slid her sexy self down upon my hard cock as I lay half-submerged in the water of the claw-foot white porcelain tub.

We had to be careful because we didn’t want to make too much noise or too much mess.  When she had finished cumming in reverse cowboy position, she turned and descended on my spear once more, this time facing me.  Grabbing her tits and pulling her nipples, she asked me, “Shall I be a good girl this weekend, Daddy, or a bad girl?”

“You’re already a bad girl,” I said, “so, you might as well not deny your nature.”

She came again and then urged me to get up and out and dry off so we could enjoy one another in the plush bed.  Bent over the side; face down in the down pillows; on her knees straddling me – we explored many positions, before she finally opted for being bent over a chair and seeing herself in the full-length mirror as I made her tits swing with my thrusts from behind her.

Just as we were both approaching the pinnacle of success in this position, she commanded, “Stop!”  She wasn’t kidding.  I did as she bade me.  “Get a towel and put it on the floor.”

I followed her command.  The towels were thick and heavy and the floor was wall-to-wall carpet.

“Get behind me and keep going, only harder.”

I again followed her command and within moments her clenching climax had pushed my member right out and she was squirting what seemed to be gallons on the towel beneath her.

She collapsed and said, breathlessly, “I knew that was going to happen.”

The next morning, after I had made everyone breakfast, we headed out on a hike.  I happily pulled up the rear, right behind Lo, whose behind, in her black athletic tights, was the best inspiration for me to keep going.

Lo – Tight

It was an exhilarating trek through the crisp air of the mountain tops.  The sights and the thrills were worth the exertion.

When we got back to the house, we were famished and we heated up a big pot of chili we had prepared before the trip.

We then settled into our vacation home and after a few glasses of wine, Jim suggested a game of cards.  We decided on poker and I raised the stakes by suggesting strip poker.  Lo kicked me under the table.  I didn’t know why at the moment.

Our friends were game and we got to playing.  Little did everyone (except Lo) know, but I’m a terrible poker player.  I can never keep straight which is the better hand.  Lo took pity on me and helped me all she could, to her own detriment.  She did her level best of spying on my cards to help me, to discard her good hand, to lift me up by lowering herself.  Doing that was tougher than actually winning!  But before too long, she was shirtless, sockless, and then pantless.  Not to be outdone by her rival, Lily went garment-for-garment with Lo.  After only a couple of rounds they were both braless.  It came down to a question of who was going to lose her panties first: Lo or Lilly?  You guessed it!  Lo was out and in her birthday suit.  She seemed more than happy to be the loser of the game.

During the hour or so that it took for Lo to win or lose, depending on how you’re scoring this, we had finished a bottle of wine and Jim and I had broke the seal on our special bottle of Scotch.

Eager to keep playing, Lo suggested that since she had no more clothes to offer, we play for certain “favors.”  These new rules started out tame enough.  First Lo had to bend over to pick up a napkin.  Then she had to get up and walk around the table to refresh my glass and Jim’s glass, with a little curtsy of course.  She had to remove Lily’s panties when Lilly lost.  But soon we moved on to having Lo’s writs be tied up around one of the support beams in the room as she bent over.  We found a riding crop that Lily’s uncle used as a decorative prop, and we used it, each taking turns swatting Lo’s ass and occasionally her pussy from behind.  Lily was the cruelest with the crop.  But then we gave Lo some aftercare.  Each of us got a turn fingering her from behind.  She came almost immediately for each of us.  After Lily’s turn (she went last), Lo pressed her legs together and commanded me to grab a towel, as she had the previous night.  When I had spread it at her feet, she spread her legs and looked as if she was putting out a fire from between her thighs!

“Holy shit!” cried Lily.  “I’ve never seen that actually happen in real life!!!”  She seemed thrilled.

Lo slowly slunk to the floor, exhausted.  She looked up, a smile on her face, a bit proud, her legs spread in a ‘V’ shape, and a puddle underneath her.  “Really?” she asked.

“It happens all the time to Lo,” I chimed in.

“I’ve read about it, I’ve seen it in videos, but never actually saw a woman squirt.  How do you do it?”

“I don’t do it.  It just happens.  Talent, I guess.”

Lily untied Lo’s wrists and helped her up.

“Do you think you could show Lily how to do that?” asked Jim, turning the tables on his bride, since she had been eager to have Lo teach Jim how to pleasure a woman despite his diminutive size.

“I know a lot of people claim to be able to teach it,” said Lo, “and there are a lot of websites out there dedicated to how to make a woman squirt, but I don’t know.  I only know that it works for me when I’m super aroused.”

“It’s more of a problem than a talent,” I said.

Lo frowned at me.  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Come on, Lo,” I said, “you know that you sometimes accidentally squirt at very inconvenient times.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

“And the number of sheets we have to go through. . .”

“Yeah, it makes for a lot of laundry.”

“And how you shoot me right out of you mid-coitus.”

“That’s true too,” she admitted.

“I don’t need to squirt,” interrupted Lily, “I just would like to cum when having sex.”  She blurted it out and I could see that Jim’s request of Lo and Lo’s performance clearly were making her feel inadequate and so she turned the tables right back on Jim.

“Look,” said Lo, always the peace maker, “I have an idea to help everyone.  I’ve done this before, or a variation of this.  I’m already naked.  Why don’t we all get naked, light a candle, sit in a circle, and speak openly, honestly, candidly about sex, love, and relationships.  As long as the light of the candle is illuminating our circle, there is no judgment, no accusation, no falsity.  We will be vulnerable and compassionate with each other.  Our nudity is only an outward symbol of our inward vulnerability.”

Lily looked at Jim and he nodded his head that he was willing to give it a go.

We all got naked and for the first time I got a view of the little that Lilly had to work with.  Jim’s physique is fit, trim, and small.  Attractive, but tiny.  I’m not hung like a horse (horse cock being something Lo dearly likes), but compared to Jim I was.  I had to remind myself, by the candlelight, there is no judgment.  Right.

We all sat down in a circle with the candle at the center.  Jim and I were cross-legged and both Lola and Lily, being more flexible, sat full lotus position.

Lola started us off, “Sex is good, but sex without meaning, without connection, without intimacy can be empty and leave you cold.”

As Lo said these words, I couldn’t help but think of all the times she fucked guys, strangers, in the back seat of the car as I drove, or at the beach as men came all over her body, or. . . .  Wait, I reminded myself again, no judgment.  Got it.

“Yeah,” said Lily, picking up the thread of the conversation, “that’s true, but sometimes, while having that meaningful connection, I just want to get rammed home with a long, hard cock.  I want to submit to a domineering, rough, take-command partner.  That can be both hot and intimate.”

“Jim?” asked Lo.

“I know she likes that, but it’s just not me.  I’m kind, gentle by nature.  I love her.  I don’t want to. . .” he trailed off, not even able to articulate the deeds she wanted done to her.

“That’s totally understandable,” said Lo, “but there is a major gap between her desire and yours, or her idea of intimate intercourse and yours.”

“It’s clear you love each other,” I said, “but do you trust each other?”

“Completely,” said Lily right away.

Jim just nodded.

“If you trust each other,” I followed up my thought, “then maybe an open relationship.  Having a bull who will come over and do for Lily all the things she wants and needs could expand your relationship pallet.”

“A bull?” asked Jim naively.

“A man who fucks married women,” explained Lily.  She obviously had explored this herself.

“H.H. does that with me,” said Lo, “and he loves it.”

“I like to see her satisfied,” I said.  “If she likes to be fucked by another guy, then why should I stand in her way?”

“Come on,” said Lo, to me as if calling bullshit.  “You are not simply standing to the side while another guy fucks my brains out.  You love it.  You love to see it and to guide him through it and to hear all about it if you can’t be there in person.”

“She’s right,” I confessed.  “Honesty.”

Jim, who was very visibly uncomfortable by everything he was hearing, said, “I just don’t think I can do that.  I mean, we’ve given an open relationship a chance and it drove me crazy.  I almost called off the wedding because I was so enraged and jealous.”

“Jealously is a symptom, not a cause,” said Lo.

“A symptom of what?”

“Of so many things – a feeling of inadequacy, a fear of being left, anger with a previous girlfriend who hurt you.  I mean, it could stem from any number of deep-seated insecurities.  But mainly it’s a form of fear.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real.  Understanding it doesn’t remove it,” said Jim.

“No, you’re right.  I’m just pointing out that what you’re feeling doesn’t stem from what Lily is doing.  She loves you.  But she also has desires.  She wants to be with you.  But she also wants to have wild, earth-shattering orgasms.”

“And I want to be used, abused, humiliated, and tossed aside like a worthless fuckdoll” said Lily.

There was an awkward silence before Lo said, very reassuringly, “All healthy desires if channeled properly.”

I decided to be daring.  “Would you like me to demonstrate?” I asked, knowing full well that Lo’s jealousy would explode inside her heart like a hydrogen bomb.

“I’d love it,” said Lily looking at my limp cock.

Lo gave me a sidelong glance and said, “I don’t think right now is the time for that.  We’re making progress.”

“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t mean now.  I just meant. . .”  I was caught now, but it was worth it to get Lo’s ire up after that perfectly detached and clinical explanation of jealousy she just pronounced as if she were so far beyond and above it.  But I felt bad immediately after because it suddenly dawned on me that she might not have been talking from a superior position to jealousy, but from her intimate knowledge and understanding of it within her own heart.

As if to strike back at me, she then said, “Jim, I feel as if you’re bottling up your emotions and not letting them flow out.  What can I do to help you?”  As she said this, she caressed his knee with her left hand.  I saw his cock twitch at the unexpected touch.

“I just feel like I don’t know how to please her.”

Lo’s hand moved closer to his crotch.  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“I want to find a way that I can be everything she needs,” he said.

Lo’s hand got to his balls and began fondling them as his micropenis started to grow.

“We cannot be everything for our partners.  We have to be content with who and what we are for them and who and what they are for us.”  She began stroking his little cock with her thumb and index finger.  “Do you like that?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” he said, “it feels good.”

“Lie down,” said Lo.

He reclined on the carpet as Lo continued to jerk him off.  Her right hand was caressing his legs, spreading them apart.  Her left hand gently held his little member between her thumb and finger.

“You know, I wouldn’t even feel you if you were to penetrate me,” said Lo.

“I know,” said Jim as if in a hypnotic trance.

“But that wouldn’t matter to you, would it?” asked Lo.

“No,” said Jim, “I’d be really into it.”

“I know you would,” said Lo.

From where I was sitting, I could see Lily begin to stroke her pussy as she continued to sit in the lotus position.  She was enjoying this.

Lo lowered her mouth to Jim’s cock and tickled the tip with the tip of her tongue, clearly in order to let us see what she was doing.  Then she lifted up her mouth and said, “Don’t cum.”

“I’m trying not to cum, but it’s so hard.  It feels so good.”

“Stand up,” commanded Lo.

Jim stood up.

Lo pulled him forward and positioned him next to Lily as Lo, still on her knees, manipulated his tiny pud with her fingers.

“Close your eyes,” Lo said.

Jim closed his eyes.

Lo stroked faster and faster and lifted her mouth to his little balls to kiss and lick them.

“You may cum now,” she said, and no sooner did she say this than he came, right on Lily’s face.

“Open your eyes,” said Lo to Jim.

He followed her command and looked down at Lily who was covered in his ejaculate and smiling.

“There you go,” said Lo.  “Did you like that?”

Both of them said “Yes” at the same time.

By the way, I was hard as a rock at this point and I finally said, “Lo, any chance I will get to cum?”

“Oh, are you hard-up?” she said in a mocking manner.

“Yes.”

“Do you deserve to cum?” she asked with a look in her eye that told me I was being punished for my comment earlier.

“I sure do,” I said confidently.

She was feeling surly, but despite that, she indulged me and she told me to lie back.

I followed her instruction.  To my surprise, instead of doing to me what she had done to Jim, she sat on my face.  She was facing my toes and she invited Lily over as I began lapping Lo’s wet pussy lips like a thirsty dog.

Lily grabbed my cock and balls (I could tell it was Lily, though I couldn’t see her, because I know Lo’s touch) and began furtively fondling.  Then she began to jack me off.  I felt a mouth lower on my cock, but now I wasn’t too sure whose it was.  Lost in the mystery of it all, I gave in and came in heavy, forceful spurts.  Lo came as well, drenching my face.  I practically drowned.

When she got up and I sat up, Lily said, “You come almost as quickly as Jim does.”

“That’s not fair,” I said in my defense, “I’ve been watching Lo for over an hour now.  I was primed and ready.”

“Ready to be pumped dry,” said Lo.

“Well,” said Jim, “I think we all got something out of this.”

“Um,” said Lily, “of the four of us, three of us came.”

“Well Jim,” said Lo, “you got some work to do.”

Jim smiled and asked Lily, “Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

Lo looked at him, got up, exited the room into the mud room and returned with one of the dog leashes that was hanging there.  She put the collar around Lily’s neck and gave the handle to Jim.  “That’s not how you ask a slut like Lily.  Take her upstairs.”

Jim stood up and gently pulled on the leash.  Lily got on all fours and crawled like an obedient bitch at his side.  Off they went.

“Well done,” I said to Lo.

“Don’t give me that ‘well done’ bullshit.  You’re in big trouble mister.”

“Me?” I said innocently, “What did I do?”

“You know very well what you did.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.  I just want you to admit it.”

“OK, so maybe I tried to suggest that I do something with Lily.  But look at what you actually did with Jim.”

“There is no comparison.”

“How not?’

“Because I’m your slutty hotwife and you are my obedient, chaste, little stag.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

“No.  Actually I wouldn’t.  I was just teasing you to see if you would be jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.  I just want you to know your place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And where is my place?”

“Right between my legs.”