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

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

Cover of the Audio Book with chapters

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

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

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

:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Cumtributes in the Age of Coronavirus

[We interrupt our regularly scheduled mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” to bring you this article, published in the June issue of ENM Magazine (Ethical Non-Monogamy).]

“I like to be the social lubricant that helps my man get deals done.”

 

“Will you just look at that,” I said as I stared at my computer screen.  Lo sat across from me at the breakfast table, scrolling through her phone, appraising photos from her fans.  The thought crossed my mind that she peruses the tributes the way some middle-aged men from a different era might go through the morning newspaper.

Sunday News, Lola Down, Hotwife

“Ahem,” I said a little louder, “Would you just look at that.”

She pulled her nose up from out of her phone.  “What’s that dear?” she asked politely.

I turned my screen around for her to see.

 

Applicant does not present live performances of a prurient sexual nature or derive directly or indirectly more than de minimis gross revenue through the sale of products or services, or the presentation of any depictions or displays, of a prurient sexual nature.

 

“Hmmmm,” she grunted, half-heartedly.

“Do you know what that is?”

“I don’t.”

“I have to agree to it if I want to be considered for the Payroll Protection Program.”

“So, making money from our books, blog, and calendars disqualifies you?”

“I’m insulted!”

“You’re right.  Those damn Puritan bastards.”

“No, I’m insulted by you!  You think that my art, my literature, my philosophy of the bedroom is of a prurient sexual nature?”

“Of course not, dear.  It is only interpreted that way.  Just like me.”

“That’s better,” I said in approval.

“And you certainly don’t derive any gross revenue from it.”

“Do you mean gross as in disgusting or as in a large amount?”

“Yes,” she said, dismissively, returning to the photos on her phone.

I completed the application and she started flirting with me by placing her bare foot between my legs under the table, as she often does with guys she dates.

“Why do you want me now?” I asked.

“I just want something to do,” she said.

“Something to do, or someone to do?”
“Someone to do me.”

“At least you’re honest.  But are you sure it has nothing to do with the photos you’re examining?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess you’re right.  But you have stuff to do.  I have stuff to do.”

“Yeah, so let’s make it double-stuff.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said.

Truth be told, I was getting about half as much done during this mandatory work-from-home than I would in a normal workday, and it was all because of Lola.  That truth should not be misconstrued as a complaint.  But still. . .

“I was going to work on my résumé because I think, at this rate, I’m going to be one of the millions of unemployed soon and I haven’t updated it in years!”

“You should treat your résumé like your sex life: if you don’t spruce it up every six months or so, it gets stale.  You should keep a record of all your accomplishments and write them down somewhere.”

“I do, on the blog.”

“I wasn’t speaking of our sex life.  I was speaking of your work experience.”

“Well, being a writer of erotica, our sex life is my work experience.”

“Touché.”

They say ‘Home is where your story begins.’  Well, under Coronavirus lockdown, home is where our story begins, continues, and ends.  Repeat.

We got to the bedroom because, given the opportunity to do Lola or do my résumé, I’d take Lola every time.

We hopped in bed and she said, “Let’s fuck.”

I said, “Pull down your pants.”

“You pull down yours.”

“How about we both pull down our pants on three?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?”

“Yeah, we pull down our pants on three and then on four, we play.”

The preliminaries accomplished, I pat her puss with the tip of my cock.  I asked, “Why are you so wet?”

“I was looking at all the cumtributions my fans send me.”

“So, you like showing off nude?”
“Am I really that transparent?”

Tribute from Sam and Alia

“Not transparent at all,” I said.  “And those guys put you in the mood for sex?”

“Ya think?  And who said they were all from guys?”

Cumtribute from Sam

She shut her eyes, apparently picturing the images she had reviewed that morning.

Just as I was getting into her, she opened her eyes and asked, “Do I feel like I have a fever?”

“I don’t know, but I think you’re hot.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, and I’m horny.”

“I might be running a temperature.”

“OK, then, the only way to tell for sure is to take your temperature with my thermometer.  Spread your legs, lift your hips, and say ‘Aaaaaahhhhhh, as I put it in.”

“Funny,” she said and then she sat up, a concerned look on her face.

“What?”

“Every once in a while I think I’m definitely infected with the ’rona.”

“I know.  Everyone does.”

She suddenly was descending into a full-blown panic attack.

“Take it easy,” I said, “Big breaths.”

“I always took you for an ass man,” she quipped, a smile briefly crossing her lips.

“Maybe I was foolish to go to the store to do shopping,” she mused.  “What do you think?  I wore a mask, I brought hand sanitizer.  I was very careful.  Do you think it was prudent of me?”

“It’s probably the only thing you’ve ever been prudish about.”

“No, seriously.”

“Look, why don’t you hop back on your computer and take your mind off of this stupid plague.”

“You brought me into the bedroom to have your way with me and you left my glasses in the breakfast room.  Now I can’t see anything.”

“That’s alright – I look better in soft light.”

“Will you get them for me, Daddy?”

As I began to leave the room, she called, “The wireless is weak in here.  Can I hop on your hotspot?”

“You can always hop on my hotspot, Lo.”

When I returned, she had the computer open on her lap.  I passed her the glasses.

“Need a hand?” I asked.

“More like a cock.”

Sam and Alia read “Match, Cinder & Spark” together.

We looked together.  She scrolled with her right hand as her left stroked my tumescent member under the blankets.

“What are you into?” asked a fan.

“Let’s just say a lot of men are ‘into’ me,” she wrote back.

One artist sent an abstract drawing of her.  Lo titled it, “Lola Down: Simple Lines, Sexy Curves.”

Lola Down – Simple Lines, Sexy Curves

Moments later the artist sent a photo of him cumming on her painting.  “A true genius who loves his work!”

“What about me?” I complained.  “I also love my work.”

“You’re more cerebral.  This was visceral.”

“What do you want?  Me to cum on a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark?”

“No, just cum on me.”

I flipped her over onto her tum, climbed on top of her naked body, and I squeezed my hard cock between her butt cheeks.

“I thought you said you wanted to read?” she asked.

“I do.  I’m a book worm and I want to get into your backpages.”

I applied some lube to her bum and my cock and slid back and forth as she continued to interact with her fans, one of whom said he wants her to love him.  “Do you want love or do you want my pussy?” she replied.

“Do you fuck your followers?” he asked.

“I fuck whomever I please and I please whomever I fuck.”

To one who sent her a cumtribution photo, she asked, “Cum here often?”

To another, to whom she sent a pic of her pussy spread, she wrote, “Cum here often.”

She posted a photo of her under the spout of the tub, water splashing on her clit.  She called it ‘The Human Flying V Guitar’ pose.

A fan texted, “I’m a guitarist.”

She responded, “I’m easy.  Simple fingering and I sing like a Wagnerian Viking.”

She then flipped over and started pulling at her pussy lips as she looked up at me stroking my rod.

“On a scale of one-to-ten, how much do you want me?”

“Seven.”

“Seven?!  I’m insulted.”

“What?  I’ve wanted you more.  It’s true.  Seven is good.”

“Seven,” she said dismissively.  “Barely passing.”

She reached over the side of the bed, her ass exposed before me.  She returned with her Hitachi.  “I want to fuck me more than seven.”

She began enjoying herself until she squirted.

As she basked in her own self-satisfaction, I told her I wanted her.

“Why do you want me?  I look like a fire hydrant that sprung a leak, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am into that sort of thing and I’m hoping to get into you to plug your leak.”

Cum Here Often

She wasn’t opposed.  After sloshing about in her, I pulled out and came on her naked body.  As she cleaned it up, she said, “Wow!  I think you just set a record.”

“Distance, quantity, or duration?”

“All three.”

“Really?” I said, satisfied with myself, looking proud.

“Don’t get too full of yourself.  It was only your personal record.  Not a record compared to all my lovers.  Hardly,” she said, laughing.

She looked at the computer again and said, “Good news!”

“What’s that?” I asked from my blissful post-climactic haze.

“Your article on nymphomania just got accepted for publication by Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine!”

“Really?”

“Yes!!!” she squealed, excited.  “I think it’s due to the sexy photos I sent to the editor.”

“You sent him sexy photos?”

“I like to be the social lubricant that helps my man get deals done.”

With the Artist’s “Signature”

Before Artist’s Signature

Quick Anal Hookups

 

Quick Anal Hookups

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I join you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anal Only Lifestyle.”

“Is that a Catholic girl thing?”

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

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

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

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

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

“They wore condoms, I hope.”

She laughed.

“No?”

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

“And what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So it was a setup?” I asked.

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

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

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

“Let’s just say that I have my ways.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My secret?” I asked.

“I mean, with Lo.”

Still, very intentionally ambiguous.

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

“Come on,” she insisted.  “You know.”

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

“I’m sorry, Suzanne, I don’t follow.”

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

“And I’m practically in January?”

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

“Manage what?”

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

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

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

“You mean, Lo does whom Lo wants.”

“Either way,” I said.

“And you?” she asked.

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

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

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

It was a weird way to put it.

“Something?” I asked.

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

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

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

Suzanne & Bandit

Alliterative Agony

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “I do it dirtier.”]

I admit, I had been sleeping for untold hours when I finally heard Lo’s sweet whispers coaxing me to awake.  “Daddy.  Daddy.  Are you up Daddy?”

Her hand was caressing my chest.  Her bare leg was draped over mine.  She was all sex.  All desire.  All mine.  Forget that last bit.  She certainly wasn’t all mine physically, but she knew whose bed to return to at night.

My eyes opened.  Her hair was wet, her body was hot.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” she said softly in my ear between nibbles on my earlobe.  “I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

“Fuck me, Daddy. I’ve been a bad girl.”

She could feel me getting hard in her hand.  She liked that I reacted to her.  She enjoyed her power.

“Get on your back.  Spread your legs.  Open your pussy.”

“It’s open, Daddy.  And wet.”

She wasn’t wrong.  I slid in deep.  She moaned.  I think she might have climaxed with that very first penetration.  But it wasn’t the climax of her climaxes.

“Where have you been?” I asked, whispering in her ear as I conjoined with her.

After a moment of deep breathing, she began telling me the story that I have just related to you, dear reader.  Her narrative was punctuated repeatedly by her orgasms.

When she was done telling me about her golden shower with Collin, she then said, “Are you disappointed in me?”

“No.”

“Am I disgusting?”

“No.”

“Am I a sick, worthless, slut?”

“No, Lo.”

“Yes, yes I am,” she insisted.

“Yes, no, either way, I love you.”

“I am bad,” she said.  “Defiled, degraded, debased, dirty, depraved, dishonored, deflowered, debauched, dissolute, disgusting, dirty, a dick-hungry cum bucket.”

With each alliterative self-depreciating descriptor, I thrust harder into her as if punishing her for her shame.

“And I love you,” I said when she was done.

She had climaxed her climactic climax and now she was crying into her pillow.  “No,” she said, “I’m not worthy of love.  I’m not worthy of anyone or anything.  I’m a sick, fat, fuckhole.”

“Lola,” I said, caressing her back as she wept heavy, body heaving sobs into the pillow.  Her body convulsed much like it did when orgasming, but now she was weeping.  “I love you.”

She had to get it all out and then, after many minutes of the tears streaming from her eyes like the juices had from her pussy just a little while ago, she finally took some deep breaths, put her head on my chest, and just let me hold her.  She fell asleep like that, peaceful in my arms.

“I do it dirtier”

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

Lo was just about to walk out of Suzanne’s room, finally, when Suzanne called to her, “Lo.  One more thing.”

Lo turned around.  Suzanne had removed the comforter from her bed and put it in Lo’s arms.  “Drop this in the laundry please.”

Lo didn’t ask questions.  She could feel the cum from me leaking out of her ass and also some from her earlier encounter leaking from her pussy down the inside of her thigh.

That parting word from Suzanne further exacerbated Lo’s misgivings about this newly formed “friendship.”

Lo walked down the dark hallway to the laundry area, dropped the comforter in the machine, and then began walking back towards the room we were sharing, but her return to my side got interrupted.  Collin appeared from out of the darkness, holding in his hand a tumbler of scotch on the rocks.

“How’d that go?” he asked in a whisper.

After the initial fright of seeing him, Lo burst into tears in his arms and cried.  To his credit, he held her and comforted her.  He then led her to his room, not mine.  Foiled again.

In his spacious bedroom, Lo said she wanted to shower.  She repeated her performance of the previous night, stripping down in front of him and getting clean in the open-plan shower as he watched from the bed.

Just after she had turned off the water, he stood next to her holding a plush towel for her.  She took it, dried off and then he held her naked body and kissed her.

“Lo, how I wish I could. . .”  He trailed off.  He kissed her passionately and she reciprocated.  Out of force of habit or sheer lust, she removed his clothes until he was naked.  She dropped down to the floor, her knees by his feet, her mouth by his flaccid cock.  She remembered Suzanne’s words, “a man who pursues power.”

Lo, in her complex psychology, not only wanted to give Collin the feeling of power that his impotent phallus couldn’t provide, but, in so doing, gain the upper hand.  All Lo’s life she had used her body, her sexuality, her physicality, her animalistic lust, and her intellect to dominate men.  She liked the feeling of superiority that her feminine allure gave her over weak, needy, desperate men.  Knowing that a simple yet mysterious glance, an inadvertent caress, an apparently careless reveal could put a man fully in her power pleased her.  She didn’t have to sleep with him to experience the high of this advantage.  It was satisfying enough to know her relative position vis-à-vis men without being in the physical position of dominating them.  But, the sex was often an added bonus.

Perhaps that was why she not only liked or loved me, but remained with me.  I was the only man who dared say no to her.  I was her great challenge.  And loving other men was just one of the tools she used to keep me cumming to her.  Simultaneously, my permissiveness and apparent lack of jealousy and independence of her was her Everest.  I knew full well that the day I forbade her her freedom, denied her her sexual denizens, or revealed any indication of my being beholden to her magical spell, that would be the day that she would move on to a bigger challenge.

I digress.  Lo had found a way to build Collin’s deflated ego through the use of his droopy dick, the source of his diminished self-esteem.

Lo sat on the floor of the shower, spread her legs wide, leaned back, supporting her weight with her arms, and looked up at Collin.  “Grab it,” she commanded.

“What?”

“Grab it.”

Collin reached down and held his sloping shlong in his right hand.

“Aim,” instructed Lo.

“What?”

“Point it at me and shoot.”

Now Collin caught on.

“Use it.  Drench me.  Disgrace me.  Degrade me.  Cover me in your urine.  Soak me in your pee.  Humiliate me in your hot piss.”

Lola began fingering her hole as Collin confidently released his stream, raining down on Lo’s head, hair, face, chest, tits, tum, and pussy.

“Come on!” she said, opening her mouth.  “Just like at the amusement park.”

He got it in, filling her up until he ran out of ammunition.

Ready, Aim, Fire!

“You like that?” she asked him.

“That was. . . crazy,” he said, clearly stunned by the sloppy slut slipping and sliding on the tiles by his feet.

She slithered toward him and stretched her wet hands up his legs to his cock and took it in her mouth.  No response, as she suspected.  But she enjoyed it nonetheless.

She stood, rubbing her wet body against his hard body and then kissed him, open mouth, while simultaneously cupping his balls in her right hand.

“Whatever Suzanne does,” she said in an authoritative whisper, “I do dirtier.”

She knew she had him in her power now.  Even if he couldn’t get it up, showing his appreciation with his rigid manhood, or cum for her like a suppliant pouring forth tribute, she knew he was hers.  She had conquered her quest.  She had ascended the top of Mount Bliss.

[Note from us: We are approaching the last few installments of the Mount Bliss mini-series. Have we lost you? Are you still enjoying this? We see many of you click the “like” buttons, but not many comments. Let us know your thoughts please.]

Girlfriends

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

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

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

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

“I want your friendship.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Craving Attention

[The Mount Bliss mini-series continues from Will You Come With Me?.]

Collin led Lo down the hall and up the stairs to Suzanne’s bedroom.  They were about to enter when Lo stopped, realizing where they were.

“What’s the matter?” asked Collin.

“I don’t want to go in there,” said Lo.

“It’s ok,” he said.  “She was belligerent earlier.  She had had too much to drink.  But she wants to apologize to you as well.  She asked me to bring you here so she could do so in person and in private.”

He opened the door.

To Lo’s surprise, he didn’t go in with her.  She felt like she was being led to the lion’s den.

Shadow and Bandit, who had been at the foot of the bed, immediately stood up and ran to Lola, sniffing her crotch with great interest.

Lo walked in furtively.  She pet the dogs on the head, both to be friendly and in an attempt to keep them at bay.  Suzanne was sitting in a reading chair next to the bed nursing a drink.

“Sit,” she said.

Lo didn’t know if it was a command to the dogs or an invitation intended for herself.  As a result, she felt at an embarrassing disadvantage.

“Me?” she asked, upset that the first interaction they had in this exchange was a confusion about whether Suzanne was talking to Lo or the dogs.  It put Lo and Suzanne on very unequal footing and Lo couldn’t help but think that it was intended to do so.

“Yes.  Have a seat.”  The only place to sit was on the bed.

“That’s ok,” said Lo.  She stood awkwardly, like a schoolgirl who had gotten in trouble and was asked to stay for detention before the teacher.

The dogs were by her.  Bandit, the taller of the two dogs, was licking her ass.  Shadow licked the droplets that had oozed down to Lo’s ankles.  Lo didn’t know how to stop them or to stop the leak from between her legs.  She squeezed her ass cheeks tightly.

“No, really.  Sit,” said Suzanne.

Lo sat on the edge of the bed.  Bandit and Shadow crowded between her legs, trying to get their snouts up and in there.

“Stop it you two!” said Suzanne to the dogs.  “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.  They’re crazy about you.”

Lo tried to shut her legs, unsuccessfully.

Suzanne pulled the dogs back.

“It’s my fault,” she said.  “I spoil them.  That’s why I asked you to come here.  I wanted to apologize for Shadow’s atrocious behavior earlier.”

“It’s ok,” said Lo, flatly.  She wanted the apology to be over with already.  The amends were worse than the offence.

“You see,” began Suzanne, “ever since Collin’s unfortunate accident, I’ve been bereft of his spousal consortium, as the courts put it.”

“He hasn’t been able to fuck you,” said Lo bluntly.  She didn’t like Suzanne and she definitely didn’t like that she was being treated like a hostage in Suzanne’s room at the moment.  She tried to turn the tables on her.

“Yes,” said Suzanne without emotion.

“There are other methods of partners sharing intimacy,” added Lo, switching to her helping mode.

“As you no doubt have found,” began Suzanne with more than a hint of accusation in her voice, “Collin is hardly capable of intimacy.  He is a man of means, a person who pursues power, a physically imposing presence.  All things I found attractive about him before the accident.  But the accident changed everything.  It was hell seeing him disabled.  Living with him was unbearable.  But, to his credit, he was not only a self-made man, he was self-made twice!  He remade himself after the accident, in every way except one.  And that one deficit has defined him.  It eats away at him.  He has a terrible need to be everything he once was and is crushed by the disappointment that in the way that mattered most to him then is lost to him now.”

“I can understand that, but there are other ways to. . .” began Lola.

“He’s a tyrant!” interrupted Suzanne.  “He can’t connect.  He won’t allow me to have another man, or many men, like you,” she said.  She again sounded accusatory.

“How do you know about me?” asked Lola.

“Lily,” said Suzanne, simply.

Of course.

“Lily is and has always been madly in love with Collin, and with good reason,” said Suzanne.  “He treats her like a daughter.”  There was a long pause.  “Better than a daughter.  Almost like a daughter and a mistress.  Don’t get me wrong, there was never anything untoward about his relations with her.”

Oh no, she just has lured female companions to him like a procuress.

“He has shown her the attention she craves and she has reciprocated by trying to please him in every way.”

“So why wouldn’t she just bring young studs back here to fuck you?”

Suzanne laughed, amused at Lo’s innocence.  “Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying?  That would be a double insult to Collin.  First to his ego and second to his relationship with Lily.  He has to be the center of attention.  He has to be the alpha-male.  He can’t handle any other man, even a young man, fucking his prized possession.”  She said this with great irony since, rather than be treated as a prized possession, she was treated as a prisoner within her gilded cage.

“But he’s ok with. . .”  Lo didn’t continue the sentence.  She just looked down at the two hounds that lay at Suzanne’s feet.  They immediately perked up their ears and gave looks of anticipation to Lo, hoping that her noticing them meant that she’d play with them soon.

“Lola, Collin is the alpha-male.  The fact that I have needs, that I’m beholden to my body, that I stoop so low, only feeds his own ego.  He delights in my desperation.”

“Then leave.  Leave him.  Leave this.  Get a life.”  Lo finally said what she had wanted to say since she first met Suzanne, or at least since she first heard rumor of the “special understanding” that Suzanne and Collin had.

Again Suzanne laughed a sad, humorless laugh that rang out like a bell tolling the knell of defeat.  “Bless your little heart,” she said, allowing her southern accent to emerge.  “If I only could.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because, Lola, he’s right.  I am desperate.  I am beholden.  I am pitifully and pathetically attached to him in more ways than one.  With him, let’s face it, I get everything I want, except one thing.  And that can easily be replaced,” she said, rubbing the fur of Shadow with her bare foot.

“One thing?!” shouted Lo.  “It’s way more than one thing.  It’s not just sex.  It’s intimacy.  A partner.  Companionship.”

Before she could go on, Suzanne stood up and began to pace.  The dogs watched her every move carefully.

“Forget all that,” said Suzanne, taking a sip of her drink.  “I have wealth, status, amusements,” she said, putting her hand on Lo’s shoulder.

Lo looked up at her, genuinely terrified.  She wasn’t going to be talked down to, so she stood up, uncomfortably close to Suzanne who still was a head taller than Lo.

“You’re not interested in getting out,” Lo decried.  “You two are co-dependent.  You get what you want and he gets what he wants.  You. . .”  Lo was going to say, “You like it,” but she got cut off.

“Call it whatever you want,” said Suzanne.  “He abuses me and I take the abuse.”

“You’re not the victim in all this,” said Lo, confronting her.  “You just want to play one.”

“What the hell would you know about it?  You have your cuckold of a man who lets you whore your way from door-to-door.  It works for you.  You are in no position to judge.”

“I’m not judging, Suzanne.  I’m just. . .”

“You think you’re so smart.  You got it all figured out.  You’re what, all of twenty-four, twenty-five?  You think you know how things work, how people work.  Well, you’ve got a lot to learn.  A lot.”

Suzanne’s sinister streak was making its appearance again.  Lo was on edge.  She didn’t want to be there in the first place.  This was supposed to be an apology to her, but now she was on the receiving end of Suzanne’s invectives.

“I don’t have to take this,” she said.  “I’m your guest and, until today, you’ve treated me very well.  But I don’t have to take this.”

“My guest?  Did I invite you here?  No.  Collin did.  Collin and his little niece, Lily.”  She said “niece” like it was a curse.  “You’re just pretty decorations, like his art or his wallpaper.  You just brighten up the room for him.  You’re not my guest.”

Lo began to walk toward the door.  Suzanne got in front of it, blocking her exit.

“Did you like it?” asked Suzanne.

“What?”

“You know what.”

. . .

“I don’t have to answer to you,” said Lo.  They were looking eye-to-eye, but Suzanne had a height advantage, especially because she was in heels.

“I see you.  I see who and what you are.”

“And I see you too,” said Lo right back to her.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

In a whisper, Suzanne said, “I can’t leave him.  He has evidence.”  She drew out the final sibilant of “evidence” in a way that caused Lo to think of the snake in the Garden of Eden.  Lo was frozen by Suzanne’s sinister look.  “And now,” Suzanne added, “I have something on you too.”

“What do you want?” asked Lo, very scared of what Suzanne might be capable of doing.

“What do you think I want?”

A thousand different blackmail scenarios played out in Lo’s mind.  But it was impossible for her to see into the depths of Suzanne’s dark eyes.  She was inscrutable.

Lo waited.  Suzanne moved from blocking the door.  She knew she had a captive audience now and didn’t need to use any physical barriers to prevent Lo’s departure.  She took her time and walked around the room as she spoke, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

[For unabridged, please send an email requesting it: downloladown@gmail.com]

Will You Come With Me?

[The Mount Bliss mini-series continues from I Want to Drown in Lola Down.]

 

She licked my lance from tip to taint with a worshipful devotion before turning on her side and pressing her caboose into my pelvis.  She moaned, “Slide back in my ass, Daddy.  That’s where I want you to cum.”

In I pierced her from behind without the slightest bit of resistance.  She and I were both saturated by her super soaker and the spunk of her previous coital conjunction.

I was deep inside her and ready to fulfill her wishes when suddenly there was a knock at the door to the bedroom.

We both froze.  We listened intently.  Silently.  Another furtive knock.  Rap, rap rap.

In the still muted darkness I could feel my heart pounding and the pulse of my blood throbbing through my swollen saber lodged deeply in Lo’s spare sheath.  Pump, pump, pump.  Each heartbeat felt like a violent thrust inside her.

To my astonishment, Lola said quietly but confidently, “Come in.”

The door opened slowly and silhouetted in the frame was the unmistakable outline of Collin.  He stepped into the room and approached Lola’s side of the bed.  He walked slowly, probably because he had difficulty seeing in the sudden darkness.  He stood over the two of us, imposingly.

“I’m sorry to disturb you like this,” he said in a hushed tone.

If I disliked him before, I despised him now.

“What’s up?” asked Lo.

My cock was up, up inside her hooha, waiting to climax in a spectacular array of orgasmic delight.

“I just wanted to apologize,” he said slowly.

Couldn’t this just wait till morning?

Lo didn’t ask what he was apologizing for.  She patiently kept silent and allowed him to continue at his own pace.  For once he was fumbling for words.

“You see, uh, I’m not sure how to explain this.  But.  Suzanne.  She and I.”

Get on with it!  I am a man on a mission.

“Here, sit,” said Lo, pulling the covers back to reveal her naked body.  She shoved her ass further into my pelvis to make room for him.  I felt my cock penetrate parts of her that it had never probed before.

Collin sat down as Lo’s breasts, tum, and pussy were all exposed to him and I, the big spoon, was cuddling her from behind, conjoined to her body through her anus.

“What is it, Collin?” she asked kindly, touching his hand.  “You can tell me anything.”

“Well, Suzanne and I.  You know that we haven’t had marital relations for many years now.”

This was news to me.

“And you know why,” he continued.

No, I don’t know why.  But Lo just looked at him with gentle understanding.

“Go on,” she said.

“Well, for many of those years she. . . well, you can probably guess.”

Come out and say it, I thought.

“Anyhow,” continued Collin, “I wanted to apologize for her.  Her behavior.  And for Shadow.  I’m very sorry all that happened.”

“It’s ok, Collin,” said Lo, taking his hand and putting it on her naked body just above her hip.  “Is there anything I can do for you?”

He’s apologizing to you!  Why would you do anything for him?

Collin looked at me.  His eyes had adjusted to the dim light.  “HH,” he said, “You have a good one here.  A really special lady.  Don’t let her get away.”  As he said that, he caressed her breast.

“Let her get away?” I asked.  “You say that as if I have her locked down like a caged animal.  The reality is quite the opposite.”

“Yes,” purred Lola as Collin squeezed her bosom.  “Kiss me,” she instructed him.

He leaned over and kissed her.  Her ass jutted back, taking more of my cock, if that was possible.

She gave him a long, open mouthed kiss and I could feel her muscles clench around my cock.  Collin was clearly enraptured by Lo’s pure sexuality.  As they continued to kiss, I exploded deep inside her.  I could hold out no longer.  The pent-up energy from a week of celibacy was too much for me to bear.  I could feel the warm wetness that I had injected into her surrounding my cock.  She felt it too and her hand moved up Collin’s strong arm and gripped his bicep firmly as she clenched her ass, clutching my cock, squeezing every last drop out of it.

It was not how I had hoped to consummate our reunion.

“Will you come with me?” asked Collin, unaware apparently that I had just cum in her.

“What?” asked Lo.  She probably thought he had asked her to cum with him.  Hard to tell if the words are not written on the page.

“Come with me,” he repeated.  “I want to show you something.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Is it ok, HH?” Lo asked, turning her head over her shoulder to look at me.  It was really just a formality.  She knew what I’d say.  Do I ever deny her anything?

“Sure,” I said, trying to conceal my resentment.

Lo began to move forward and I slowly slid out of her ass as she released me.  I flopped out of her and she dribbled a bit on me from her ass as her anus simultaneously made a sloppy slurping sound.

I could see her gingerly maneuvering her legs over the side of the bed.  She stood up, naked, and kept her legs and ass cheeks clenched tightly as she slid on her thong panties and slipped into a sheer beach coverup.

“Be back soon,” she said, as she turned to blow me a kiss.  I imagine that she leaked right over that little thong of hers, down her legs.

She shut the door behind her.

 

Interview With a Nympho

[A word to our sponsors – that’s YOU. Recently a dear reader wrote in to say that he had difficulty subscribing to our blog. We reached out to our beloved tech guy – our Knight in Shining Armor – and he took care of the problem right away. If you have any questions or concerns about subscribing or anything else, please write to us so we can help you out: downloladown@gmail.com. Please subscribe and get all the sexy stories every month!!!]

Working from home? Enjoy mysexlifewithlola as you do.

[I, Lola Down, recently was asked to do an interview about my sex-life under lockdown. Even though HH just wrote an article about it for Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, I was happy to give an interview in my own words. It ended up on the cutting room floor, but here it is for your reading pleasure.]

1. How has your sex life changed since practicing social distancing?

My sex life with my man, HH, is pretty much the same. I mean, we have lots of time together and, actually, that’s been great for both of us. But, to fill you in on our relationship, he’s in his fifties and I’m in my mid-twenties. His libido isn’t quite where mine is. In fact, he says that my libido outstrips that of a teenage boy. Well, maybe he’s right. So between us, things have remained the same — about once or twice a day. However, with “social distancing” (which is really physical distancing since I am still very social, just physically distant) I cannot meet men and women in person like I used to. HH and I have an understanding. I’m given free reign (to be a ‘hotwife’) and he saves himself for me. But now, all my hotwife activity is only virtual — through email (downloladown@gmail.com) or tweet or other social media. There’s a lot of men and women out there who are trapped. Either they’re alone or they are with partners that don’t satisfy them. They’re happy to find me.

Caught!

2. What is it like when you do decide to leave your apartment, flat or home?

Where we are, when we go out it’s probably much like where you are. People walking around or jogging or biking. Some have masks on, some don’t. I get really upset at those joggers who sneak up on you and don’t have a mask on and they come within a foot of your personal space. Go jog somewhere else! You know? Shopping is a pain, but you know, as they say, we’re all in this together. I can’t complain any more than the next person.

3. How do you control your urges or cravings on a daily basis?

Working from home makes it easy. Simply put, I don’t have to “control my urges or cravings” as much as I would at work. I can simply hop into the bath, turn on the warm water, spread my legs and have a little mid-day me-time. No sneaking around to the office supply closet or an empty bathroom.

Lola Social Distancing

4. What is the hardest part of being a sex addict in quarantine?

Am I a sex addict? Like Jessica Rabbit says, “I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way.” HH depicts me as a sex-craved nympho. I just think I’m sex-positive with a healthy libido. I think that this “social distancing” is as draining on me as anyone. I thrive on social interaction. The other day I woke up and turned to HH and said, “I had such a vivid dream. I was at a restaurant and had just finished an excellent meal and a great cocktail. I even asked for the bill. It was amazing!”

“Was it as good as a sex dream?” he asked.

Honestly, it was better. I just want to be outside with people, dining out, seeing and being seen, dressing up or dressing down and, did I mention, being with people? Zoom just doesn’t do it for me.

Write me!

5. How do you cope as a sex addict in quarantine?

Didn’t the CDC say that sex with yourself is the safest sexy you can have? Well, I try to follow rules. Except when I break them. No, just kidding. That’s a rule I don’t break. I have a lot of self-pleasure sessions. Nothing new there, really. But now I can’t just call up a friend and have him or her come over to give me benefits.

6. Are you still having sex with other people while in quarantine? If so, please explain.

No sex in real life, just in my imagination. I had another crazy sex dream about Peter Dinklage the other night. I know, right? If only he and I were dining together in my dream. . .

7. How often are you watching pornography, using sex toys, or engaging in sex addicts that do not involve a partner while in quarantine?

Daily, hourly, right now. . . I mean, if you’re reading this, I’m engaging with you, right?

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

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

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

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

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

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

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

Desperate times, I suppose.

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

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

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

“Lo, come on!”

“What Daddy?”

“It’s one-fifteen.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Don’t you have work to do as well?”

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

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

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

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

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

“We fucked last night and this morning.”

“So, why not this afternoon?”

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

“It’s good exercise.”

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

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

“The CDC did not say that!”

“Someone said that.”

“Probably you.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue.”

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

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

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

Sharing Couple from NJ Hubby’s Cumtribute to Lola

Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories

Sharing Couple of NJ Getting off to Lo

 

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

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

Floss & Lola

Nikki of LoveIsAFetish getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

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

The Beautiful Jupiter Grant

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

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

Warm Skin Getting off to Lo

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

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

Lo practicing Social Distancing Stress Relief, pass it along.

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

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

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

“Is it broken?” asked Lo.

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

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

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

Lola in all her glorly!