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Lola Puts the “Fun” in Fundamental Fantasy

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Lola Dreams of Gang Bangs

 

“Lola, by any chance did you watch Lily Phillip’s fucking a hundred cocks?” I asked over breakfast.

“Who do what?” she replied.

“Don’t be coy.”

We were sitting on the roof deck of a fancy five-star hotel in South Beach.  To my right was the famous Ocean Blvd. and then the Atlantic.  To my left was the roof deck pool, cabanas lining the side of it, and a bar at the far end.  In the pool and lying out in the early sun were topless women and their husbands sunning themselves and drinking cocktails.  It was only ten in the morning, and at that hour a Bloody Mary is basically breakfast.  Or, at least it is when you’re on vacation.

“Of course I watched it,” she finally blurted out.  “Why?”

“I was reading an article this morning that was quite enlightening about it.”

“I bet you were,” she said with jealous derision in her tone.

“Do you care to read it?”

“What’s it called and what do you find so fascinating about it?”

“It’s called ‘Lily Phillips: One Woman’s Dream of Don Juan’ or something like that. In a nutshell, it says that there is an archetypal sexual fantasy for men and another for women.”

“I’m curious.  What would those be?”

“For men, it’s the – well, it’s a little difficult to explain,” I stumbled over my words.  “But basically, every man fantasizes about being an Alpha Male on steroids.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just imagine Rocky, The Terminator, John McClane from Die Hard, all rolled into one.”

“I get it, like Tyler Durden is to what’s his name in Fight Club.”

“Exactly.  And, he doesn’t have a name.”

“The fantasy figure?”

“No, the narrator for Fight Club, played by Edward Norton.  He’s so castrated that he doesn’t even get a name.”

“Castrated?”

“Never mind.”

“And what is a woman’s fantasy?  Please, do tell,” she said sarcastically, underscoring that it is not a man’s place to tell a woman her fantasy.

“According to this article, Don Juan.”

“Don Juan?” she repeated, stunned.  “He’s a male fantasy, if anything.  I mean, he is the prototype for those movies you just mentioned.”

“That’s what’s interesting about this essay,” I said.  “It’s a little too convoluted for me to explain.  Why don’t you read it yourself.”

I texted it to her.  She finished her breakfast, stood up, removed her bikini top, and sat in one of the lounge chairs facing the pool, phone in hand, reading the article.

I ordered a mimosa and sat across the pool from her.  I watched her from behind my dark sunglasses as her left hand held the phone in its palm and her right hand moved lower and lower down her abdomen, to her bikini bottom, and then between her legs, where she pulled the thong to the side and revealed her long, meaty labia.  She slowly stroked them in full view of all to see – especially me.

The boys get a real thrill when Lo’s around

When she was done with the article, she looked up from her phone.  There, in the pool, were at least two men and a few boys who had been spying on her just as I had been.  Let me be clear, everything she did was unconscious.  When she’s engrossed in something – a movie, a book, an article – she is oblivious to the onanistic meanderings of her free hand.  But her audience was engrossed in her.  Each of them – including me – tried to pass it off as if they hadn’t noticed a thing, but it was abundantly evident – to me and everyone else, especially the wives and moms around the pool – what captivated their attention.

She glanced over the brim of her large and dark sunglasses, smiled, fixed her bikini bottom, and walked to the bar where she sat on one of the stools.  It was a small, tiki-style bar, only big enough for four patrons at a time.  She waited for the bartender who, at that moment, was delivering a tray of drinks to various patrons around the pool.

I met her over at the bar and said, “Well?  What did you think?”

“I like that the author doesn’t deny Lily Phillips her right to claim her own pleasure, her own fantasy.  I like that he doesn’t say, “She says this, but she must be wrong.”

“And?” I was expecting a critique.

“I also agree with the observation that no man, no matter how virile, can ever get it up enough.”

“I thought you’d like that.  I mean, that was the theme of our second book, More!, after all.”

“But,” she began.

“Ah-ha!  I knew there was a but.”

The bartender returned to his post and asked Lo what she’d like.  Lo got excited.  She stood up from the stool and was now bending over, leaning on the bar, showing her thong-clad butt off to her loyal fans in the pool.

A.I. of Lola by the pool

“Hmmm,” she said, licking her lips, “you have all these specialty cocktails.  I love their whimsical names!”

“I think she’ll need a minute,” I said to the bartender, with a wink.

She was wiggling her butt in anticipation of the fun drinks, like a puppy excited to play.

“So,” I said, bringing her back to the conversation.  “What is the but?”

“Well, I think there are a lot of fantasies – not just two.”

“Fair, but I think he’s talking about a fundamental fantasy.”

“You know,” she said, looking at me now, “even Don Juan wasn’t so simple as people make him out to be.”

“Your point?”

“Well, when he was a young man – I mean, really just a boy – he was sold into slavery and then, when spied by the sex-starved sultana, Gulbeyaz, she had her eunuch buy him for her, dress him up as a harem girl, and sneak him into the sultan’s seraglio for him to please her on the sly.”

“You mean, in Byron’s telling of the tale,” I said.

“Of course Byron!” she responded.

“And your point?” I asked again.

She turned her head over her shoulder and looked at her admirers in the pool.

“Well, maybe Don Juan is a woman’s fantasy, just not the Don Juan who beds all the women.  Maybe the Don Juan who. . .”

“Lo, I think I know where you’re going with this.  You weren’t dreaming of Lily Phillips while reading that article over there,” I nodded to where she had been lying down.  “You were dreaming of MILF Meri’s son.”

“Por qué no los dos?”

“Madam?” asked the bartender.

“I’ll have the Red Headed Slut shot,” said Lo, licking her lips.

“Very good.  And you sir?”

“The Blue Balls shot.”

Meri and son with a bull

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy!”

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Lola Wishes to be Worshiped (art by Pulp Brother)

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy!” Lo said, as she handed me a cute little card.  She was wearing her silky, shiny black dress, black heels, and nothing else.  She then sat on the chair, lifted up her legs high in the air, spread them, and said, “Do you want a little appetizer before dinner?”

I took in the sight and said, “Come to think of it, I could use a little snack.”

I got on my knees before her like a supplicant before his god, opened my mouth and put my tongue to her smooth, newly shaved, glistening pussy lips.  I heard her moan on contact.  I then dove in with an enthusiastic and concerted cunnilingal revery.  I could feel her body convulsing and her lower lips salivating.  At one point, I looked up from my coveted corner at the apex of her love and saw that she had pulled out her phone and was looking at something on it as I worshipped her womanhood.  What could it be, I thought.

I continued a little while longer lashing her labia with my tongue before I could stand it no more.  I backed off and stood up.

“Lola,” I said sternly, “what are you so preoccupied with?”

“Don’t stop, Daddio,” she said.  “I’m just reading the Valentine’s cards I got from my fans.”

“Let me see,” I demanded.

She turned her phone around and scrolled through page after page of cumtributes from various men and women.

Tribute by Martin

From Martin with Love

Martin completes the task

A female fan gets off to Lo

I wiped my mouth of her juices and said, “I think it’s time we get going.  Our dinner reservations are for eight.”

She pulled down her black dress and stood up.  I could see on the inside of her knees a few streams flowing down her inner thighs.

She grabbed a hand-towel from the kitchen and wiped up her legs from her calf to her crotch.  “I don’t want to make puddles in my shoes,” she said as she performed the slightly indecorous task.

“No, we can’t have that,” I said.

At the restaurant, we sat at a candlelit table for two with a romantic candle lit, illuminating our faces in the dim light of the room.

I passed Lo my Valentine’s Day card.  I had made it myself.  Instead of “Happy Valentine’s Day,” it read, “Felix Lupercalia!”

“What is this?” she asked.

“Latin.”

“OK.  Why?”

“The origins of Valentine’s Day go back to Roman times.  It was a holiday, much like a Bacchanalia, called Lupercalia.  The priests of the festival would fun through the city naked, carrying small whips known as februa, from which the month gets its name, and they would whip the young women who came out into the streets for exactly that purpose.”

“Why did they do that?”

“It was supposedly part of a fertility ritual.  The women thought that if they were whipped, the purification ritual would increase their chances of getting pregnant.”

“I imagine that if a lot of young women flooded the streets of Rome, bared their asses to have them whipped, that by the end of the day a lot of them would get pregnant, but not because of the whip.”

“You’re probably right,” I said.

“Will you ‘purify’ me when we get home?” she asked.

“Have you been corrupted?”

“So much,” she said, stars in her eyes.

“Then I’ll have to purify you with quite a bit.”

She bit her lower lip.  “I’m having impure thoughts right now.”

Fertility Rites of Rome (art by Lesbian Silk)

Masturbatorium Museums

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I mention this little interlude about the Cum Cube because, though it was ultimately only marginally successful in its original purpose and plan, it became inspirational for Lola with the new sex scheme she was concocting with Uncle Collin and his nephew David.  You see, she recalled the Cum Cube, or masturbation station, and thought that it was a sort of proto-masturbatorium like that along the lines of which Collin was describing.  Or, at least in Lo’s twisted mind it was.  She thought back on the experience fondly.

Lactation Station Magazine

By the way, after the local news reports covered Lo’s Cum Cube and that inspired the morality police to put pressure on the politicians to have the actual police shut it down, it didn’t go to waste.  The city actually repurposed the Cum Cube as a lactation station, but, in reality, it was used as a masturbation station.  Whenever you see a public lactation station nowadays, you never know – there could be men or women inside there, jacking and fapping to magazines, books, posters, of Lo.  Hell, they could be reading this very blog and getting off to it.  But I digress.

Masturbation Station Magazine

Lola described her experience with the Cum Cube to Collin and he was very intrigued, but he pointed out the obvious differences between Lo’s lark and his grand scheme for industrial scale sperm collection sites across the country.

“We have to make the new collection centers warm, inviting, and most of all, we have to offer the men something they cannot simply get at home,” he said.

“Yes,” agreed Lola.  “It cannot have anything of the seedy atmosphere of a peep show, a porn store, or. . .”

“Upscale,” interrupted Collin.  “It has to be respectable.  We cannot place them in the parts of town known for sex.”

“Maybe in five-star hotels?”

“That’s an idea.”

“We should model them on Good Vibrations.”
“Good Vibration?” asked Collin.

“Yes.  You don’t know the store?”

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“That’s surprising.”

“How so?”

“Because it has to do with sex and I thought you were the world’s resident living expert on the subject.”

“You flatter me.”

“Good Vibrations is a sex-toy store.  It’s first and flagship store was in San Fransisco.  What makes it unique is that it markets itself mainly to women and in order to do that they had to make it bright, welcoming, in busy, safe neighborhoods.  Not like most sex shops, in the worst parts of town where only men would dare venture.”

Lactation Station Magazine

“I see.  I’ll have to research this more,” he said, taking a note on his desk.

“Yes, it has to be seamlessly integrated with the mainstream culture and commerce.”

“Even better, it has to be on the level of an art gallery!”

“Yes, that would be perfect.  An art gallery – the biggest in the neighborhood – that has private viewing rooms with docents that double as cum coaxers.”

“I think we’re onto something,” said Collin with a broad smile.

He stood up and touched the bookshelf behind his desk in such a way that it rotated 180 degrees, hiding the books and revealing a fully stocked bar.  “Shall we drink to this joint venture of ours?” he asked, pulling out a bottle of bubbly from a mini cooler.

“It seems a bit premature, don’t you think?”

“How so?”

“We haven’t gotten down to business with the hard choices of the décor.”

“Come here, my dear,” he said, popping the cork on the bottle and taking out two glasses.

Lo walked around the desk and sat on Collin’s lap as he poured the Champagne.

“Let us drink to hard business and premature celebrations while we peruse the paintings and photos that shall adorn our masturbatorium museums.”

Magazines for Breastfeeding Moms

 

Marsupial Position

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After the first Cum Cube companion had left, Lola heard the special knock at the door.  It was still ten minutes before her next appointment.  Lo opened the door cautiously.  It was Meri.

MILF Meri desperate at the bar for some real cock

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” Meri replied, “I couldn’t stay away.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” replied Meri, dismissive of Lo’s insults.

“HH calls me that all the time.  I take it as a compliment.  Like, ‘You’re incredible!  You’re amazing!  You have the sexual powers of a goddess.’  You know?”

“Oh, so you think you’re paying me a compliment?”

“It all depends on how you take it.”

“How did you take it?”

“Take what”

“That guy’s cock.  That’s what.”

“Fast and deep, front and back.”

“I figured.  I could hear you cumming from across the street.”

“You could?”

“Of course!”

“And now you want some?”

“Are you going to deny me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  Actually, after her first session, which was so much more than she could have imagined, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle any more and was glad for the reinforcements.

“When’s your next appointment?”

Lo looked at her watch.  “He should be here any minute now.”

“I gotta get out of these clothes then.”

“Yes, hurry,” said Lo, helping Meri out of her winter attire.

Soon Meri was in nothing but a white bra, her white nylons, and her red pumps.

“There’s one rule you have to keep.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to remain bent over, facing this wall.  The idea is that there is a certain level of anonymity.  They can’t see you and you can’t see them.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But I though you vetted them on-line?”

“We were still anonymous there.  They are afraid that if I know who they are, I could blackmail them.”

“Blackmail?”

“Yeah, because of their wives and families and such.”

“Oh, right.”

“And I, well, you know, I just like anonymous fucks anyhow.”

“Oh, I know!”

There was a knock at the door using the secret code.

Lo released the latch and the next patron of the arts entered the sacred space.  He was confronted with not one round, beautiful rump ready to be mounted, but two.  One naked, used, and welcoming, and one, larger than the first, squeezed into the tight-fitting nylons.

Mr. Next Up came in and didn’t say anything.  He just ran his hand over both rears that were confronting him.  He gave Lo’s a little smack and then pulled Meri’s tights down around her knees.  He began fondling both of them – Lo with his right hand and Meri with his left.  He then got on his knees behind Lo and began licking her ass, perineum, and pussy as he continued to fondle Meri, inserting a finger into her pussy and then his thumb into her ass.

Both Lo and Meri were now grinding on him – Lo on his tongue and Meri and his digits.

“Fuck me,” said Lo.

“Fuck me!” insisted Meri.

The girls could hear him unbuckle his pants and then heard him let his pants drop to the floor.  He fumbled with a condom and then he was up against Lo’s rear with his hips.  Lo felt his huge heft – not of his cock, but of his stomach – flop down on her lower back.  He was slapping up against her with his hips.

“Hey, slow down,” said Lo.  “Are you even in?” she asked, moving her right hand behind her, under his giant beer belly, to grab his pecker and point it in the right direction.

When she finally got ahold of it, she was like, “Wait, is this it?”

“I, I, I’m having trouble with the condom,” a deep voice replied.

“Fine, forget the condom,” said Lo.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Lo saw a tiny piece of rubber land on the floor by her feet.  It reminded her of a finger cot she once used in a science class.

She reached behind her again and felt a tiny, protruding, almost pimple-like bump.

“Is this you?” she asked.

“Yes,” came the shameful response.

“Try again,” said Lo, pulling the nub toward her.

His hips again slapped up against Lo’s ass.  Lo shrugged her shoulders.  She couldn’t feel anything.  Especially not after her first romp.  But she wasn’t going to let on.  She moaned and groaned, oohed and aaahed like she was being fucked by King Dong.  Lo’s cum-cooing turned on Meri and Meri moved her right hand under Lo to feel the tips of Lo’s tits as they lilted forward and back, swaying heavily under her as Lo was bent at a right angle, perpendicular to the wall that supported her.

“My turn,” insisted Meri.

They guy pulled “out” of Lo, even though Lo didn’t think he had even penetrated her, and followed suit with Meri.  Meri looked at Lo and Lo made a hand gesture with her thumb and index finger indicating that this guy was no more than an inch at most!

Beer Belly and Meri

Meri’s eyes rolled and then she put on the act.  “Oh yeah.  That’s it.  Fuck me!  Fuck me like the whore I am,” and so on.  She was nearly laughing and getting Lo to giggle as she hammed it up.

“Are you a bad girl?” asked the panting voice from behind her.

“Yes, so bad.”

“How bad are you?”

“I’m a dirty slut.”

“Do you have kids?” he asked.

“Yes, three sons,” she said.

“I can tell.  Your pussy is much looser than Lo’s.”

“Oh, but you fill it up so good,” she said – insulted by his comment, but still feeling superior since she knew that even if she was tight as a virgin, he still wouldn’t feel her due to his microscopic appendage, nor would she feel him.

“I bet you say that to your sons,” he said.

“Sometimes,” replied Meri, playing along, but also, truthfully with regard to her youngest.

“Yeah?  Are you a dirty whore at home?”

“I’m a dirty whore everywhere I go.”

“Tell me about it,” he said.

Lo, at this point, was growing tired with being mere window dressing, or window undressing, however the case may be, even though there were no windows and Lo was already undressed.

She rolled onto her back and then slid underneath Meri’s drooping and swaying tits until Lo was straddled by Meri’s knees.  Mr. Small was smacking away at Meri’s backside without penetrating or pleasuring any part of her pubic area.  Now Lo’s little flower spread just below Meri’s larger petals, allowing for the choice of four portals to pleasure instead of just two, but none of which were within reach of the man’s petite probe.

Meri’s nipples fell to Lo’s open mouth and Lo licked, sucked, and bit gently on them.  Meri flaunted her large, full breasts before Lo’s face, taunting her with her much larger and fuller tits, though, unlike Lo’s perky breasts, Meri’s drooped and sagged.  Lo enjoyed Meri’s matronly mammary offering, but then slid up further in order to kiss Meri’s open mouth as Lo wrapped her legs around Meri’s hips and her arms over her shoulders and held on like a marsupial.

Meri looked down at Lo’s face and laughed.

“I can’t feel him,” she whispered and Lo laughed too.

“Oooh, yeah,” said Lo, mockingly.

“Ahh, fuck me,” said Meri in the same jocular tone.

The two of them giggled as the man furiously flapped his hips forward and back like a large walrus trying to slide headlong on the sand.

“Oh, you’re so much better and bigger than my husband,” said Meri over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” asked the guy.  “Tell me about him.”

“He’s so small, I never feel him.  I haven’t had an orgasm with him in ages!  That’s why I whore around town like this,” she said, giggling in Lo’s ear.

Lo lapped it up and held onto her older, sexy, voluptuous MILF mentor with joy and delight, squirting and dribbling over her lower lips.

“Never brought you to an orgasm?”

“I didn’t say never,” Meri replied to his question.  “But so long ago that I can’t remember it.”

“That’s horrible,” he said, “why not?”

“He’s an enormous man with a small cock and as a result of all his bodily girth and lack of girth where it really matters, he can’t even get close enough to me to enter my pussy.  Every time we have sex, I end up jerking him off with just my index finger and thumb.”

Suddenly, the slapping of fat on ass stopped.  Before either Lo or Meri knew what was happening, the man had pulled up his pants and left the Cum Cube.

Lo looked at Meri, puzzled.

“Why’d he go?” she asked.

“That was Scott,” cackled Meri, squealing with delight, “my husband!”

“Nooooooooooooo!” replied Lo, shocked.

“Yes!”

“How do you know?”

“I know how my husband fucks.  I know the wheezing sound he makes when he’s overexerted himself.  I know the feeling of that tub of lard that flops over his beltline and lands on my lower back before he makes his pathetic attempt to fuck my pussy.  I know how small his dick is – it’s unusually small and almost uniquely so – and how he cannot, no matter how he tries, get it in the hole.  He’s like a horny Chihuahua trying to mount a Great Dane!  And I definitely know that brand of condoms – ‘My Size’ – that he has to import from England.”  She pointed at the condom on the floor and laughed at its pathetic diameter.

“How do you think he. . . I mean, how did he?  I was so careful about who I. . .”  Lo didn’t have the words, she was so shocked.

Meri shrugged her shoulders and said, “He has probably been tracking my internet usage.”

“No!”

“Yeah,” she assured, “he’s been suspicious of my every move ever since our failed attempt to throw him off my scent.  Your little seduction of my husband (and my three sons) seems to have backfired.  I figured he was up to something.  But now I know for sure.  He must have gotten some spyware and downloaded it onto my computer and phone.  He probably knows every pornographic website I click on, my every email and chat message, my every phone call.”

Lo looked dismayed.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“What is there to do?” replied Meri, shrugging her shoulders.  “Go home and face the consequences.”

Just then, there was a loud knock at the door of the Cum Cube.  It was not the secret code knock.  Just an insistent three bangs on the door.  Lo and Meri were startled.

“Just a minute!” Lo chimed, trying to find something to put on.

Lo was wearing just her coat.  Meri, too, put hers on as Lo opened the door.  It was the police.

“What’s going on?” asked Lo, surprised.

“Shut down.”

“What?!”

“You have to shut it down.”

“I have permission from the mayor.”

“This is on orders of the mayor.”

“I don’t understand.”
“Apparently, the press got word of this do-gooder operation of yours and a lot of people are upset about it.”

“Upset?”

“Protesting City Hall.”

“But why?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders and said, “All I know is I got to shut this operation down.”

Lola and Meri were escorted out of the Cum Cube by the men in blue, leaving behind all the paraphernalia that Lo had so meticulously arranged inside her little sex oasis: the Match, Cinder & Spark books, the magazines, the posters.

After the shutdown, the cube didn’t just go away, it was repurposed as a municipal “lactation station,” but in reality, people used it as a masturbation station.  In fact, one handsome crew of six guys sent Lo one of her favorite tribute shots – all six gay or bi men in a circle jerk over her glossy image on the cover of a magazine!

Cum Cube cumtribute pic

Queen of the Primal Horde

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The first customer?  Or is it patron?  Client?  First cummer.  That’s it.  Anyhow, the first guy on Lo’s Naughty List showed up and gave the special secret knock at the door of the Cum Cube.  Lo let him in.  The door swung open and Lo was bent over in her diaphanous panties when he entered.

“Fuck me,” was all Lo said.  She didn’t want small-talk.  She didn’t want to get to know him.  Something about anonymous cock was really turning her on that morning.  Actually, the idea of anonymous cock had been revving her engines all week in anticipation of this.  She loves, loves, loves watching ‘The Milking Table’ vids to get off, as you probably already know.  The milking table, glory hole, dogging at night – the one thing they all have in common is anonymous cock.

The Milking Table Porn

Her eagerness for a fast, furious, filthy fuck was shared by the now naked man standing behind her bent over body.  He wasted no time and actually ripped off the panties.  They presented little resistance since they were mere gossamer-thin lace.  Lo was taken aback by the violent opening gambit.  She mourned the loss of her panties, but only for a split second.  In a split second more, her legs were split as her paramour entered her without hesitation and, on the first thrust, filled her to the hilt!  She braced herself by putting her arms straight out in front of her up against the wall and met his forward motion with an equal and opposite backward motion.  His firm front slapped up against her round rear and she called out with joy and squealed with delight as he rapidly, repeatedly, and roughly rammed his way to her record-setting climax.  She came, gushing all over his rigid rod.  But, it was only the first of many for her.

Lola in her see through black panties

Within a few moments, as he continued to be a battering ram barraging her bum with rhythmic, repetitive, roiling thrusts, she went into a dissociative fugue state.  This is unlike Lo, since she lives to fuck and fucks to live, she usually is very much in the present moment when penetrated by a long, thick prick.  But in this instance, as she braced herself against the steel wall of the Cum Cube and her lock-in lover ravished her, she free associated the cube with a conjugal cell of a prison.  She had never actually seen or been in one, but after her excursion to the prison to run an errand for me which turned into a peep-show for my incarcerated client, she had been dreaming of being the go-to girl for the boys (and girls) behind bars.

In her fugue state she was transported to a conjugal room on prison grounds.  The man behind her was the biggest, baddest, meanest, inmate of the entire state penitentiary system.  He was covered in tattoos on his bulging muscles.  He worked out every day to the extreme due to sexual frustration and a surplus of testosterone.  In her mind’s fantasy, if he behaved as the wardens wished, he was allowed one conjugal visit a month as a carrot, a bribe if you will, so he wouldn’t beat up or kill other inmates.  They allowed him to have one of Lola’s calendars on the wall with a different photo of her for each month.  This gave him the inspiration to change his behavior and moderate his extreme temper.

Whoah!  Lola felt her actual conjugal guest go right in her rear without so much as giving a warning!  After the initial shock, which sent her head spinning, she eased into it and began to enjoy the anal annihilation.

“Will it Hurt?”

Lo returned to her fantasy of the felon.  In her imaginings, he had a back-story.  He was an extreme survivalist who had lived in the woods.  He had an underground lair and whenever he came across hikers or campers, he abducted the females.  He kept them in his cave like a harem.  He had a large wolf-dog that he let mount the women as they wished.  This went on for years until the FBI finally caught up with him and arrested him.  They put him on trial but none of the women would testify against him.  He was like a cult leader to them.  They adored him and voluntarily lived under his protection – some as young as ten or eleven.  He was to them something between Charles Manson and Tarzan.

Captivating

In her wild imaginings, Lola was one of the abductees, but she rapidly climbed up the ranks to become his favorite concubine, Queen of the Primal Horde.  After he was convicted and sent to prison, he railed against his confinement and pined for Lola.  The guards quickly learned that the promise of her pussy was the only thing that would curb his violence.

All the other inmates were forced by the guards to assemble in the small outdoor cages, topped with razor wire, while Lo was escorted past them in her black leather heels, her nylons, her red pencil skirt, her white, cut-off sweater showing a lot of cleavage, and her large, dark sunglasses.  She also wore an extremely large, floppy sunhat that drooped over her face to give an added sense of mystery about her for the inmates.  They all knew what she was there for and they all lined up to see her when she was done too.  They watched as her now ripped nylons dripped with gobs of warm cum and her hair, which had been beautifully and perfectly quaffed, was now messed as if pulled from behind.  Rather than walking with a stride and sashay, as she had when she arrived, she now walked gingerly, as if she still felt the pain of that enormous cock up her ass.

Lola in her big red floppy hat. Art by Starlight Cassette

Speaking of which, now her real-life rear rammer was alternating between Lo’s primary and secondary pleasure promenades.  (I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide for yourself which is which.)  Lola was squirting every time he came out of her V and went to her A.  By now there was a large puddle in which she stood, her feet spread wide and partially submerged.

In Lo’s vivid visualization, the prison guards hatched a plan to provide them a fun distraction from the monotony.  Seeing how all the inmates cat-called Lo, pressing themselves up against the chain link fence as she passed them by, they arranged to have a boxing match between Lo’s lover and any challenger who thought he could go the distance in the ring with him – no gloves, no protective gear, no rules.  The prize – an hour in the conjugal cage with Lola.

The next month and each month afterwards, instead of just rewarding Lo’s beau with the privilege of Lo’s pussy, they made him defend his title and his conjugal prerogative.  Thus, he would meet Lo in the fornication station black-and-blue, bloodied, sweat pouring down his face, chest, arm pits, as he burned with fever in his triumphant entrance.

This elaborate transposition of Lo’s current circumstances brought Lo to many more orgasms – so many that she felt she couldn’t stand it.  She literally couldn’t stand anymore.  And, pent-up with so many months of loneliness, her anonymous associate came too, engorging the condom he wore for their mutual protection.  Oh, how Lo dearly wished he could have cum inside her – front or back – and made her a Christmas cream-pie.  But on orders of the mayor and Board of Health, that was not to be.

A Hotwife’s Guide to Cuckolding

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We interrupt this story of Lola’s Cum Cube to bring you, hot off the presses, a steamy review of Nathalie Bardot’s A Hotwife’s guide to Cuckolding:The Subtle Art of Fucking Whomever You Want

Author and Hotwife Nathalie Bardot

Cover Art: Lola Down

 

A Hotwife’s Guide to Cuckolding – yes, that is a title that I could not pass up and that I knew immediately I had to read.  I had to see for myself if this Nathalie Bardot was speaking from experience or merely selling copy.  I had to find out if she had something to teach me or if I had seen and done it all.  And I’m here to tell you, Nathalie Bardot is the real deal and there’s even a thing or two that even a seasoned slutty hotwife can learn from the pages of her guide.

Hotwife Nathalie Bardot getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

As she tells us in the prologue, “there are actually people genuinely interested in discussing the cuckolding lifestyle.  However, in this context, people almost exclusively refers to men.”  Her goal with this book is to “describe the cuckolding lifestyle from a female perspective.”  Yes, that is sorely needed.  And if you’re a woman who is even remotely interested in having a thing on the side, then this book is for you.

Nathalie Bardot and all she needs to get off.

I appreciate that she begins with “Definitions” and distinguishes between a cuck and a stag.  The former often takes delight in being humiliated by the sexual promiscuity of the hotwife, the latter not so much.  But, in either case, they both have in common a pleasure that is derived from the hotwife’s “satisfaction and sexual growth.”

Nathalie Bardot and Cuck Hubby Eric with Match, Cinder & Spark

If you read this book, if you have ever engaged in being a hotwife or a cuck, a stag, or even a bull or cuckqueen, there is one formula you should know and that this book repeats out of necessity: Have a solid foundation of love, trust, and excellent communication!

Nathalie Bardot, Hubby, Match, Cinder & Spark

Many men/husbands will find this book useful (if they follow its instructions) because Nathalie is very clear that, though so many men want to see their wives fuck around, not every wife or girlfriend wants to live that lifestyle and Nathalie is explicit that this is about her pleasure, not his.  If a woman derives pleasure from this arrangement, then her man may, as a happy “externality” (as economists put it) also enjoy it, but if she does not derive pleasure from it, then he has no business forcing this upon her.

Nathalie gets warmed up

Nathalie explains that introducing the idea (no matter who is the one to introduce it) should be gentle and exploratory.  She recommends reading erotic novels “on the theme of the wife seeing other men and the husband really enjoying this” together.  Might I suggest here starting with the collection of Match, Cinder & Spark about yours truly?  She also recommends reading blog posts together about a couple in this lifestyle.  Again, perhaps you might want to start with mysexlifewithlola.com.  Just saying.

Nathalie preps for a visit from her bull.

Nathalie has a whole chapter on the “benefits of being a hotwife” which include increased horniness, better sex with your partner, and my favorite – constant butterflies in the stomach, as well as that extramarital, post-coital “glow.”

Nathalie Bardot: “I’m ready for you. Read to me.” Match, Cinder & Spark

Nathalie goes into a lot of important details about the lifestyle, including rules and the importance of following them, cock size and how, though it is not the most important aspect of a man, she does “truly enjoy getting stretched out” (as do I!), and how to find a bull.

Match, Cinder & Spark – it’s THAT GOOD a read

A few other things that Nathalie and I have in common include that she sometimes shows her man her “newly shaved pussy before leaving, telling him I shaved exclusively for him.  Of course, he’s fully aware that I’m being completely ironic.”  And, when she leaves her man behind to go on a date, she is sure to tell him that “he’s not allowed to cum” while she’s out, “no matter what.”  It was nice to see we share these little quirks.

I also appreciated that this is not simply a book to turn you, the reader, on, but to give you practical advice, like the chapter on insuring your personal security.  Everyone thinking about getting into the lifestyle should start with that.

Nathalie Bardot The Toast of The Hotwives

Finally, this book is not simply a steamy read that allows a glimpse into the mind of a sexy, experienced, and happy hotwife, but it helps you (whatever your role in the triangle you occupy) to navigate these complex and challenging, but fun and fulfilling, encounters with the benefit of advice from someone who has been there before and will cum there again!

You can find more of author Nathalie Bardot on Medium.com

Check out more of Nathalie Bardot’s writings here.

Free Fuck

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Cum Cube

The following Monday, a construction crew set up Lo’s Cum Cube right on one of the formerly busiest corners downtown in the heart of the business district.  Lola had them put up a poster in front of the cube advertising its purpose.  The way she (and the mayor) evaded the laws against prostitution and solicitation was they called it “public art” designed for the alleviation of stress and isolation during the lockdown.  A public service, if you will.  Besides, it wasn’t either prostitution or solicitation because no money was transacted.  It was a free fuck.

On the poster there were instructions on how to sign up on-line.  Those who wished to take advantage of the free use girl had to submit their names, a clean bill of health, including a recent COVID test, and a few photos.

These requirements probably deterred a good portion of Lo’s clientele, but there were still enough men willing to take the risk that she had a desirable pool from which to choose.  For the first day, she had selected the top five volunteers.

It was a big day for her.  She dressed the part – nothing but black, semi-transparent lace panties and her knee-high black leather boots under a long, heavy winter coat.

Lola off to the Cum Cube

“Wish me luck,” she said as she stood to kiss me at the door before departing for her public service.

“You don’t need luck,” I said.

“No?”

“No.  You already got it – being born with that beautiful body, that gorgeous face, and that enormous libido!”

“Let’s hope my pussy is enormous enough to handle the cocks I picked out for today.”

“I’m sure that you have a capacious cuntal capacity.”

“Hey!” she said, feigning outrage, “that’s insulting!”

“I mean it in the best possible way.”

“I contain multitudes!” she said with a smirk.

“You will, I’m sure.”

Off she went downtown for her first appointment.

She was not careless.  She had arranged for her new friend, MILF Meri, to be close by at a coffee shop with outdoor seating, heat lamps, and a firepit.  If there was any sign of trouble, Lo would text or call her.  (I will say, parenthetically, that Meri was jealous of Lo’s plan to get some vitamin D during this long, cold, lonely COVID winter.  She even wanted to join her in the Cum Cube as a two-for-one type deal, but Lo was adamant that it was all about her.)

MILF Meri Dressed for Suck-sess.

The Cum Cube

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Some women happy to show Lola off.

It was late in the pandemic and people were beginning to go stir-crazy.  The government had shut down and locked down just about everything except “essential businesses.”  They kept the liquor stores open because they were considered “essential,” but gradually the government began to realize that sex is essential too.  Some countries in Europe had already had sex drive-thrus for a long time.  The idea of a sex drive-in, or “sex box,” was started in the Netherlands with their popular afwerkplek.  Or maybe it had its roots in the British TV show, “Sex Box,” where couples have sex in a box and then talk about it with the hosts.  Whatever the origins, during the pandemic the idea caught on, especially because it could be practiced relatively safely.

bikini barista

British TV show ‘Sex Box’

Lola, who had been cooped up under extremely challenging conditions (meaning, she couldn’t engage in her regular hotwife activities) read about the sex-work reforms that they were instituting in Europe.  She had already heard about American strip clubs taking the dance stage outside as well as coffee shops that featured so-called “bikini baristas.”  And she had already engaged in some outdoor dogging activities with a few select couples.  But, when she read about the sex-stalls, she got very excited.  She looked into it and collaborated with private finance and public officials and managed to get the city’s first and only experimental “conjugal cube” built and placed downtown in what otherwise would be the heart of the financial district.  However, due to the pandemic, the streets were mostly vacant but for some vagrants and other random characters.

After a couple of weeks of preparation, the cube was ready.  It wasn’t anything special to see on the outside – just an industrial style metal box with a door and ventilation.  But inside was a comfy and cozy little love pad where Lo could engage in relieving all the pent-up pressure to put out that she had while simultaneously providing an outlet for others with similarly pent-up passions to penetrate, pulsate, and please themselves and Lola out in public.

Advertising

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked Lo as she was busy diddling herself to dreamland.

“So sure.”

“You’ll fuck any Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes to your cube?”

“Well, hopefully it won’t be too many hairy dicks, but I want them all to cum in my cube to me.  Yes, I think that’s the perfect name for it too! – the Cum Cube.”

“Is that what you’re thinking about right now?”

I saw that she was looking at some cumtributes she recently received on her phone, which she held before her eyes with her left hand while her right hand was otherwise engaged in the self-pleasuring between her legs.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure you won’t get arrested for this?”

“I have the assurance of the mayor!”

“Wow.  The pandemic has really turned our world topsy-turvy.”

She was no longer listening to me because the full fury of her self-inflicted orgasm had overtaken her cognitive and physical functioning.

Lola’s Cum Cube

Fountain of Youth

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

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

“Collin?!”

“Who else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“I had to start somewhere.”

“I suppose so.”

“You’re looking good.”

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

“I bet you do.”

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

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

“So there would be prostitutes there?”

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

“You mean. . .”

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

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

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

“Oh,” said Lo, a little surprised.

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

“So did I,” replied Lo.

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

“Generous?” inserted Lo.

“Inspired.”

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

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

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

“I love the way you think, Ms. Down.”

“Tell me more about this scheme of yours.”

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

“That’s it!” said Lo, excited.

“What’s it?”

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

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

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

Sabrina Dacos

Sabrina Dacos

Sabrina Dacos

Roy Stuart

David Hamilton

 

 

 

 

Stiff Competition

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

Art by David Hamilton

Art of making art by David Hamilton

Art by David Hamilton

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

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

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

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie cumcovered

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

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie knows how to please three guys at once

Lola thought, “It’s on.”

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

Ellen Mowbray

“You know her?”

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

Lola began to walk out of the room.

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

“To request another room.”

“Why?”

“I find it rude.”

“Rude?”

“Desperate.”

“Desperate?”

“Thirsty.”

“Thirsty?”

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

“Steve?”

“Her ex-boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

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

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

“You like?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

“No,” he said.

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

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

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

“Switch,” he said in a tense whisper.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

He got up out of the chair.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He complied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He complied.

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

Ellen Mowbray

Ellie leaving work after a hard day

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie getting off after a hard day at the masturbatorium

Elln Mowbray

Ellie third from right