Category Archives: nympho

Autoerotica

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Lo, at it again

            “Come,” I heard her yell from the bedroom down the hall as I walked into the house after a long Friday at work.  She might have been saying “Cum!” to a lover.  There’s never any way to tell from the sound of her voice – only on the page. 

            I cautiously walked down the long hall to the bedroom.  What would I find?

            The door was open a crack.  I peeked in.  She was naked, on her tum, her round rump nicely illuminated by the setting sun.  Her legs were bent at the knees and her bare feet dangled up in the air, twined around each other.  In her hand she held her phone. 

            “Come in, Daddio,” she said without turning her eyes from the screen in front of her. 

            I walked in and removed my jacket and tie. 

            “What you up to?” I inquired.

            “I bet you’d like to know.”

            “That is why I asked,” I said flatly as I removed my shirt and undid my belt. 

            “Get naked, get hard, and get in me,” she commanded.

            “I’m already hard,” I said.

            “As you should be,” she replied, moving her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers and then moving her hand to her ass and circling her wet fingers around her special spot. 

            “Oh,” I commented, “You want it like that?”

            “No, Daddio,” she said, “I’m just enjoying myself.”

            Always coy when it comes to her ass.  Always for someone else, or for her own pleasure, but never for me. 

            I got behind her and tried to look at her phone by leaning forward over her back and seeing over her shoulder. 

            “Get up there and fuck me,” she instructed, her finger still rounding her sweet spot as I slid into her puss.  “I’ll tell you what I’m looking at.”

            I did as she said and she told me that a fellow blogger, a woman named TJ, wrote to us saying, “I love reading your blog.  It gets me so wet.”

            “Really?!  Do I know this TJ?” I asked as I thrusted harder.

            “She writes The Lustful Empress.”

            I slowed down a bit trying to remember which erotic blog that was.

            “Don’t stop!” Lo said as her hand grabbed the girth of my cock and she pushed her ass back into my hips, bouncing off of my bare bodkin. 

            I resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding. 

            “Look,” she said, putting her phone up on her back for me to read the email.  It said:

I love how accepting you are of Lola’s magnificent sexuality. You guys seem to have ‘it’ don’t you? I wish I could masturbate as openly as you do, Lola. I feel self-conscious, like an addict or something. But I fucking love fucking myself. . . it’s the best. I am more autosexual than anything else I think. Keep celebrating each other.

Fan mail like that makes it all worth it.  Well, that’s not completely true.  I know that I would be writing all this whether no one read it, or only one person read it – Lola.  But knowing that others read it, enjoy it, and get off to it is the icing on the cake. 

            Speaking of icing, as I read the email, Lo began to climax as one hand worked her ass and the other, from underneath, worked her clit.  Her Kegel muscles contracted and I was squeezed out of her as she curled into a convulsing, throbbing ball, squirting uncontrollably.  The more she pushed her knees up to her breasts in a tightly bound fetal position, the more she sprayed the bed and my knees.  I lifted up her phone to prevent it from being ruined by the liquid. 

TJ, author and model of The Lustful Empress, getting off to Lo

            “Fuuuu-uuuuck,” she groaned as the last bit of lady juice spurted out of her.

            When she regained control of her limbs, she slowly got up and pulled the soaked sheets with her, dropping them in the laundry basket.  “I’ll clean up, Daddy, but right now I have to get ready.”

            “Ready for what?” I asked, holding my throbbing, hard rod in my hand.

            “My date.”

            “Date?”

            “With Robert.  I told you, didn’t I?”

            I just looked dumbfounded. 

            “We’re going to the movies.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what are you seeing?”

            “The Favourite.”

            “Is he your favorite now?” I asked, demoralized.

            “No, Daddio, she said, caressing me and looking up at me with those beautiful big brown eyes.  “That’s the name of the movie.  It’s a period piece.”

            “Really?  Not a porno?”

            “Well, I hear it has a lot of woman-on-woman sex scenes.”

            “I knew it!”

            “But that’s not why we’re going to see it.”

            “You’re going to see it to have sex in a crowded theater.”

            “Oh, Daddy, you always impute to me the most debased of motives.”

            “So why are you going to see it?”

            “It’s historical.  It has great sets, acting, and costumes.”

            “And?”

            “And probably to fuck in a dark theater.”

            “Don’t get caught.”

            “But getting caught is at least half the fun.  Does that make you jealous?” she asked, as her hand stroked my hard cock. 

            “So you’re leaving me home alone on a Friday night?”

            “Not totally alone,” she said, “You have TJ.”

            “Who?”

            “TJ, the woman from the blog.”

            “Oh, right,” I said to my consolation prize.

            Lola made the bed and I watched her tits droop as she bent over to tuck in the sheets.  Her naked body moved like a delightful dance as she unfurled the blanket. 

            “Look,” she said, as she hopped back in the bed and took up her phone.  I sat next to her.  Her left hand stroked my hard erection up and down as she scrolled through TJ’s blog with her right hand. 

            We read and looked at the photos together. 

Lola
TJ of The Lustful Empress

            “She sounds like she could be your twin sister,” I said as I read about how TJ becomes aroused by her own naked body. 

            “Hold this,” she said, giving me the phone. 

            Now, with her right hand she was stroking her pussy and I scrolled through the blog. 

            “Oh boy,” I said, “You want her.” 

            Lo bit her lower lip.

            “Lo,” I cautioned, “You just made the bed.  You don’t want to. . .”

            Before I could finish my sentence, she had jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before releasing her ejaculate all over the tile floor with a scream. 

            When she had regained her composure, she got some paper towels and got on her hands and knees to clean up the mess. 

            “What time is your movie?”

            “Eight,” she called back.  “But we’re meeting for drinks first.”

            “Well, you’re going to be late,” I told her. 

            She jumped in the shower and I continued to look at the blog, hard up. 

            “Hey,” she called to me, “you’re not allowed to cum.  You know that, right?”

            “I still don’t understand how that is fair,” I said, taunting her.

            I got up and looked at her in the shower.

            “Get!” she screamed.  She hates when I see her in her shower cap. 

            “How is it fair that you get to cum twice and then go on a date with another man and I’m not allowed any autoerotica myself?”

            “First,” she said from behind the shower curtain, “it’s not autoerotic if you use someone else’s pictures.  Second, you didn’t count the three times I came before you got home.”

            “Lo, now you’re just. . .”

            “And third,” she cut me off, “this has nothing to do with fairness.  It has everything to do with me.  What I want.  What I allow you.  Got that?  Don’t forget it.”

            Lo jumped out of the shower and hastily dried off before slipping into a blue dress and blue heels.  No panties. 

            “You’re going to be cold like that,” I cautioned.

            “I’m planning on things heating up quickly,” she said. 

            Soon enough she was out the door, leaving me alone. 

            I scrolled through TJ’s blog, which I recalled I had seen before, and I thought to myself, “She said no cumming, but she didn’t say no edging.” 

            I spent about an hour going through each and every post before I thought to myself, “If I don’t stop this right now, I’m going to explode!” 

Stoya Left, Lola Right

            In order to take the edge off, I switched to photos of Lo, which are always fair game, and I pulled out the old Stoya Fleshlight.  Lubing up Stoya and myself, I imagined what Lo was up to with Robert.  I didn’t even need to see Lo’s photos.  Soon enough I was cumming and cumming hard and deep in Stoya’s pussy, just thinking about Lo in a dark theater, legs spread, and Robert discretely moving his hand up her smooth thigh until reaching that wet pussy, pulsating with anticipation.  Gently he would rub and flick her pussy lips, clandestinely making her cum.  I pictured her hands gripping the seat and her upper teeth biting down on her bottom lip to prevent the scream from escaping her mouth.  That was enough to bring me over the edge and release me into a deep sleep. 

Cums, Shoots, & Leaves

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More!

            Lo’s trysts with Robert continued on a fairly regular basis.  He’d text.  She’d encourage him to come.  He would.  But as his drop-ins became more frequent, the novelty of it began to wear off for Lo, and perhaps for Robert as well.  And so they would engage in different, ever more elaborate conceits to involve me in their affair.  I shall mention just a few of them here.

            Though I sat merely yards away from where they were going at it in the bedroom, one time Lo called me on her phone from there to the living room.  I could practically hear her talking, even without the use of the phone, yet she spoke to me as if I was far off in another town. 

            “Daddy, do you want to know what Robert is doing to me now?”

            “What’s he doing, Lo?” I asked, nonchalantly. 

            “He’s behind me, fucking me doggy-style.  His cock is so long, it’s hitting my spot perfectly,” she said, following it up with a long moan that I could hear perfectly in the living room. 

            Another time, as they were going at it in the bedroom, Lo took a selfie.  She was doggie-style, he behind her.  She made a big ‘O’ with her mouth as if she were in ecstasy.  She texted the photo to me. 

            A different night, after I showed Robert into the bedroom and I was about to turn to leave, Lo stopped me.  She was naked under the sheets.  Robert was fully dressed and anxious.  Lo said, “Wait, Daddio.”

            “Yes,” I asked, like a dutiful servant in a nineteenth century English manor house. 

            “Tonight I’m going to give Robert my ass,” she said.

            “And?” I asked politely.

            She fumbled in the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube.  “Will you grease me up?” she asked, pulling down the sheets, turning over, protruding her ass in the air and pointing to her special spot. 

            Devotedly, I took the lube and covered my index finger with it and proceeded to spread it all around her target as she moaned and wiggled her ass.  I then inserted my finger in and out as Robert looked on.  “Like this, Lo?” I asked.

Right there!

            “MmmmmHmmmm,” she said, “More.” 

            I continued.  She orgasmed, collapsing into the bed. 

            “That will be all,” she said dismissively.  “Robert, I’m ready for you.”  And she slid on her tum so that her legs were spread on the floor and she was bent over at a ninety-degree angle on the bed.  I saw Robert unbuckle his belt and undo his pants as I slowly closed the door.  I heard Lo moan as he entered her and I walked down the hall.

            “Daddio,” I heard her call once more, just as I got to the living room.

            I returned and knocked on the door. 

            “Come in,” said Lo, struggling to speak.

            I entered the room.  Robert had already entered her.  Lo looked up at me.

            “Daddio,” she said.

            “Yes?”

            “Do you want to fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass?”

            “If that gives you pleasure,” I said.

            “Where is it?”

            “She’s in the closet.”

            “She?!” she said, “Now it has a gender?!”

            “She’s a vagina.  Of course she has a gender.  She goes by the pronouns: She, Her, Hers.”

            “It is just a vagina.”

            “I don’t reduce women to only their genitalia,” I said, aware of the irony of my statement.

            “Well, grab your vagina and pull out your cock,” she said.

            I got my Stoya Fleshlight and unzipped my pants.  Lo applied the lube to my cock and then held Stoya in her hands as I penetrated her (that is, Stoya’s) vagina. 

Stoya & Stoya’s Fleshlight

            “That’s it, Daddio.  You fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass,” she said with clear delight.  She shut her eyes and enjoyed the ride.  In a remarkable chain reaction, Lo began to cum and then both Robert and I came, making for a splendid triple play. 

“This is for you, Daddy”

            These odd requests and variations were the exception, however, not the norm.  The norm was a five or ten minute shag, one orgasm achieved by each party, and then on went the clothes and out the door went Robert. 

            One night Lo had already said yes to Robert’s request to come over, but as he was on his way, she remembered that she was supposed to make a call overseas for work.  She was planning a major event and had invited some big name people to join.  She had to make the call and it wouldn’t be a short conversation. 

            Lo was already on the phone with her connection abroad when Robert arrived.  I explained to Robert the mix-up when he walked in and he asked, “Should I wait?” looking uncomfortable about the prospect, and also a bit disappointed and a tad upset.  Spoiled man. 

            “No,” I said in reply.  “Lola said you could quietly sneak in.” 

            Sneak into what?  The bedroom?  Her snatch?  Both apparently. 

            Lo was naked, standing up, bent over a desk, one hand holding the phone and the other a pen as she took notes.  She used the pen to point to her ass and indicated where she wanted Robert.  She then put the pen perpendicularly over her lips to indicate, “Shhhhhh.”  Robert didn’t even fully undress.  He just pulled out his rod and mounted her, slowly and easily.  She continued her conversation as if nothing was happening behind her.  He slid in and out, using her wet snatch for his pleasure until he finally came deep inside her.  He put his pud back in his pants, zipped up, washed off, and blew a kiss goodbye to Lo as she continued to take notes, cum dripping down her inner thigh.  After I saw Robert out, I got a warm washcloth to clean her off.  When she was finally done with her business call, she joined me in the bed. 

Thanks Robert

            “Did you enjoy that?” I asked.

            “Enjoy it?” she asked back, surprised.  “I didn’t even notice.  I was too focused on the phone call.”

Performance Art

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Lola at Eroticon

I get in bed.  I think Lo’s asleep, but she isn’t.  She unbuttons my pj bottoms and pulls out my cock and grips it tightly with one hand.  Her other hand is between her legs.  She begins stroking my rod up and down.  She spreads her legs and moans.  I begin to maneuver myself over her body in order to penetrate her, but she says, “No, Daddy.”

            “No?”

            “No.  Just lie on your back.”

            “But, don’t you want me?”

            “I want dick.  I want to hold it.  Just stay just like that,” she says.  I give in to her request to lie on my back as she grasps my member with her left hand while stroking herself with her right.  Her eyes remain closed.  Her breathing accelerates.  Her breasts heave.  After ten minutes or so, she begins convulsing.  She lets go of my phallus and grabs the sheets beneath her with her left hand as her right hand is plunging in-and-out of her gushing pussy.  She moans, screams, and cums in waves. 

            After she has a moment to catch her breath, I ask her, “What were you imagining?”

            “It’s bad, Daddy.”

            “I like bad.”

            “I was envisioning us,” she says enigmatically.

            “Us how?”

            “I imagined that we were going to the Erotica convention and that we were headlining for a reading of Match, Cinder & Spark.  It was at a dingy theater in a foreign town.  Up on the marquee it read, in big red letters, ‘LOLA DOWN READS XXX.’  We were backstage.  I had you peek out from the wings at the audience.  It was slowly growing in number – men and women.  Finally, about five minutes after the show was supposed to start, the host or MC for the evening took the stage and announced the rules, ‘No photography!  No recording!  Yes, masturbating, as long as you don’t make a mess of the seats.  Please turn off your cell phones and give a warm, wet welcome for Lola Down and H.H.!’  The place erupted with applause.  You and I walked out onto the stage.  There was only a rectangular table and two chairs.  On the rectangular table was a microphone and a tall glass of water and a pitcher of water.  We bowed and sat in the chairs.  I opened Match to one of my favorite passages and began reading.  I was wearing only a sexy red dress with strappy heels.  No panties.  No bra.  I began with my legs crossed.  I continued reading and I uncrossed my legs.  I gave the audience a quick flash of my puss.  I continued reading.  I spread my legs again.  I dropped one hand down to my crotch and began masturbating.  With the other hand, I held yours.  I paused for a moment.  I took a sip of water and looked out into the audience and said in a breathy voice, ‘It’s getting hot in here.’  You lovingly pulled the shoulder straps of my dress off of my shoulders and I pulled my arms through them.  I continued reading.  You slowly pulled down my red dress to reveal my breasts.  I continued touching my puss as I wiggled and wriggled out of the dress until it lay on the floor at my feet.  Finally I was naked and I continued reading the passage but, at a certain part I stopped.  I was beginning to climax.  You took over.  At the sound of your voice I came and I came hard – screaming and squirting.  You finally finished the passage.  You invited people up to the stage to have their copies of Match signed by the two of us.  As each person came up, they stopped before me with the book open to the page they wanted signed.  Usually it’s opened to a full color picture of me doing something naughty.  Some of the men asked if they can masturbate to me.  ‘Now?’ I asked.  ‘Yes,’ they said, politely.  I agreed.  They pulled out their cocks and they began jackin’ it over me as I sat naked in the chair.  You sat and watched.  They came.  They came on my body, on my face, in my mouth, in my hair, everywhere until I was cum-covered.  After everyone got what they wanted, you took me backstage.  There, some women who were part of the convention were waiting and they got clothes and a bucket of warm water and they cleaned me off.  ‘Was I good, Daddy?’ I asked you as they were tending to me.  ‘You were wonderful,’ you said.”

A Tall Drink of Water

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I see you’ve been with Robert again.

            “Can I come over?”

            “Yes, please do.”

            This text exchange between Lo and Robert became a regular thing.  It started off as a once a month request and then it increased to two or three times a month, then once a week, until now it was two to three times a week.  Robert would text.  Lo would shower and get naked.  I would greet him at the door with a formal hello – far less friendly, unfortunately, than we had been prior to his accessing Lo for his personal outlet for relief.  I would show him to the bedroom, and, depending on my mood, close the door behind me once he had entered, or leave it ajar.  I’d sit in the living room and await the sound of his footsteps down the hall, then show him the door before taking my place back beside Lo’s naked and used body.  She’d show me her cream-filled puss or the condom on the nightstand before having me enter her and telling me the brief tale of her encounter.  At first there was some variation to the exchange.  He would do her doggy-style; he would ask to have her ass; he would jack-off over her and cum on her tits or her face.  Even then the meet-ups were fast – no longer than fifteen or twenty minutes tops!  Luckily Lo can almost always cum within seconds, not minutes. 

            But eventually it because routine.  He would get to the house, enter her doggy-style, cum within five or ten minutes, and leave.  Once, after one of these sloppy, speedy summits, Lo asked Robert, “Why don’t you just jack it at home instead of driving all the way here?”

            He seemed perplexed by the question.  As he cleaned himself off, he said, “I do jack it at home.  Always to pictures of you or you and HH.  But I enjoy the anticipation in the car on the way here and the pleasant recollection on the way home.”  That was complimentary enough to Lo to quell her curiosity. 

            Then, one evening when Robert was paying a visit to Lo in the bedroom, I received a text from Lo as I sat in the living room.  It simply read, “Come.”  I’m used to those texts in the morning, but not when she has a gentleman caller between her widely spread legs. 

            I got up and walked to the bedroom.  I found her on her back, Robert on top of her, filling her need for attention.  She looked over at me and said, “Daddio, will you please get me a tall glass of water with ice?  Tonight he’s going at it like never before and I’ve worked up a sweat.”

            I retreated from the bedroom and got the glass of ice water.  I returned, cup in hand, like a waiter or servant and, as Robert continued to bang her, I carefully handed it to her.  She smiled as she drained the glass and handed it back to me.  “Thanks Daddio,” she said as her arms embraced Robert tightly and she began to call out, “Fuck me!  Give it to me.  More.  Fuck me harder!” 

            I left the room. 

Luck Be a Lady, Luck Be Lo

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            Late one night, Lo got a text from Robert.  “Can I come over?” it read.

            We were in bed.  I was reading.  She was looking at who-knows-what on her phone.  She showed me the text.

            “It’s rather late, is it not?  What’s he want?”

            “Do you want me to find out?”

            “Sure.”

            “Cum over whom?” she texted back.

            “Ha ha,” he wrote.  “You read my mind.”

            “You’re hard up and you just want to come here and use me?” she texted back.

            There was no response for a while, just ellipses displayed on the phone screen as if he was texting and then deleting his text, not sure what to say.  Lo texted him, “Is that it?”

            Finally he responded with, “Well. . .”

            “Then say it,” she demanded.”

            “I’m hard up and I want to come over and use your sweet body,” he texted. 

            She was fingering herself now.  Lo loves to be longed for.  “Good boy,” she wrote.  “HH is here.”

            “Is it ok with him?” he asked.

            “Is it ok with you?” Lo asked me.

            “If you want to,” I said, “then I’m fine with it.”

            “Drive fast,” she wrote to Robert. 

            She reached under the bed and pulled out her double-ended dildo.  She began plunging away.

            “Lo, you wouldn’t rather I do that?” I asked.

            “OK, here,” she said, getting on all fours and turning her ass toward me so I could grab the dildo and use it on her.

            “I meant, wouldn’t you rather that I fuck you?” I asked, taking the end of the dildo in hand and pushing in, pulling out.

            “Oh,” she said.  “I hadn’t thought of that.  Actually, I’d prefer this because I’m saving myself for Robert.”

            I had to laugh.  “Saving yourself?”

            “Yeah.  And saving you.  You are not to cum until I give you explicit permission.”

            “Ah, Lo, my slut and savior.”

            She came. 

            She squirted all over the bedsheets. 

            “Fuck!” she exclaimed, half in anger and half in ecstasy.  “Now I have to strip.”

            “You’re already naked.”

            “Strip the bed.”

            She got up, and hurriedly pulled everything off the bed and then made it again with fresh linens. 

            The doorbell rang. 

            “Don’t worry, Lo,” I said, “I’ll get it.”

            She wasn’t worried.  She was lying in the newly made bed and using her phone camera as a mirror, looking at herself.  “You’ll show him in, won’t you?” she said in a faux high-class 1940’s era movie accent. 

            “Yes, madam,” I replied, like her butler, as I left the room. 

            At the door I said, “Robert, so good to see you,” as I extended my hand to shake his.  “You must be here to see Lo.  Please, follow me.”  I led him down the hallway to the master bedroom.  “Right this way.  She is expecting you.”

            Robert, embarrassed, didn’t even say anything.  He just had a sheepish smile on his face.  He knew what he was there for.  I knew what he was there for.  And he knew that I knew what he was there for. 

            As I opened the door to the bedroom, I saw Lo in the bed under the covers, but with her breasts exposed.  Though the covers were over her, I could see that her legs were spread and her hands between them.  “Thank you HH,” she said, dismissively. 

“Ready Daddy”

            Robert walked into the bedroom like a boss.  I walked away.  When I got to the living room, I saw that Lo had snapped a photo of herself and sent it to me.  It was a sexy tease. 

            From the living room I could hear the rhythmic sound of the bed moving, Lo moaning and then calling out, “Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes, harder, yes!”

            A few moments later I heard her saying her familiar refrain, “I’m cumming.  Fuck, I’m cumming.”

            Minutes after that, I heard the bedroom door open and saw Robert walk down the hallway.  I stood up.  I met him at the front door.  He didn’t know what to say.

            “Care for a drink?” I asked.

            “No thank you, HH,” he said politely.

            “Well, come again,” I said as I opened the door.

            He walked out.  I walked to the bedroom.  Lo was now lying on the bed, completely naked, the blankets strewn about, her legs spread and her hands cupped over her cunt. 

            “Come, Daddy,” she said.  “Hurry.”

            I got naked and was between her legs looking down at her.  She pulled her hand away and I saw her oozing with Robert’s cum.  “Get in me,” she commanded. 

            I obeyed.  

            “That was fast,” I remarked.

            “Fast, hard, and soooo good,” she said. 

            “You liked it?”

            “I loved it.”

            “What about his, you know, his problem?”

            “He had no problem tonight.”

            “Lucky you.”

            “Yeah, he told me that knowing you were in the next room and that you could hear it all excited him.  He really liked that.”

            “Glad I could be of help,” I said.

            “Do you like putting your cock into the puddle he made in me?”

            “Yes.”

            “Do you like that I’m such a dirty little whore?”

            “Yes.”

“Do you like when my cunt is filled with cum from your friends, Daddy?”

            “Mmmmm,” was all I could say as dipped my stick deep into her wet, warm, and worn puss.

            “Do you. . .”

            I came, adding to her collection, before she could properly get through her cuck catechism. 

            “Do you. . .”

     

Filled and oozing

            “I love you, Lo,” was all I managed to say.

            “Yeah, well, I didn’t cum yet,” she said, upset.

            “You came with Robert and you came before Robert with your dildo.”

            “But I didn’t cum with you.”

            “I’m touched that you’re still such a romantic.” 

The Perfect Coffee Table

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2


Someone Likes “Sexy Shorts”

            Friday and finally all my meetings were over.  I flew home that night.  I hadn’t heard from Lo since the previous night when she enigmatically told me that she had dinner with Robert.  I was eager to see her.  I was hard-up and aching for release.  On top of that, there was the tantalizing mystery of what happened on her “date” with Robert.  Just to make matters worse, fate so ordained it that on my flight home I was seated next to a young, attractive college girl wearing a tight fitting miniskirt and a low cut blouse.  Her breasts were full and, when placing her carryon in the storage compartment above, she stretched and revealed a delectable midriff and even some under-boob.  When we sat down, she saw that I was reading Fast Girl, the book by Suzy Favor Hamilton about her life as a high-end Vegas escort and her sex addiction.

Suzy Favor Hamilton

            “What is that?” she asked, naively, but with a hint of being in-the-know. 

            “It’s a memoir,” I said tersely.  Her interest made me nervous.  Her looks made me more nervous.  Her age made me simply petrified – in every sense of the term. 

            “I think I’ve heard of it.  It’s about. . .” her brow wrinkled with the struggle of recall.

            “A woman who leads a double-life as a devoted wife and mom and as a prostitute.”

            “Oh,” she said, shocked at my candor.  She quickly followed it up with a smile and, “Do you like it?”

Suzy Favor Hamilton

            There was a mischievousness to her question that indicated to me that she wanted to know what turns me on.

            “It’s my homework,” I said, as if that negated any pleasure I may derive from it.

            “Homework?” she asked.  “What class are you in?”  She wanted to enroll.

            “My girlfriend assigned it to me.  She said it would help me understand her better. The last assignment was Getting Off, about a woman addicted to self-pleasure through humiliation porn.”

            “Girlfriend?” she asked.  “Aren’t you married?” she inquired while indicating my wedding band.  Clearly she was interested in more than my reading material.

            “Oh that,” I said, “I wear it to keep the ladies away.”  My standard line.

            “Yeah right,” she said.  “Every guy knows that nothing attracts single women like a man who’s spoken for.”

            “You got me there,” I said.  She was attracted.  This would be a l-o-n-g flight.

            “I wish,” she said under her breath.  “So, your girlfriend – or whatever – is addicted to porn?”

            “I don’t know that she’s addicted to porn.  She likes porn.  But she definitely is addicted to pleasure.”

            “I know the feeling,” she said.

            “Is that so?”

            “Would you like to know the feeling?”

            “Look,” I said, “what’s your name?”

            “Kayla,” she said.  Of course her name was Kayla. 

            “Look Kayla, I’m already involved with a nymphomaniac.  It takes every ounce of my energy, focus, concentration, devotion, love, and chi to satisfy her. . . and still I come up short.  I appreciate your interest.  I really do, but I’m on my way back home to see her, and, well, to be honest, the beautiful batting of your eyelashes is very well and good, but I’ve got a perfect slut waiting for me at home.”

            If this attractive, flirty, young woman had been sitting next to me on the departure flight, when I was more mad at Lo than missing her, things may have been different.  Even then, the fact is, no matter how angry I am with her, I still love Lo.  And I know, no matter how attractive other women may be, the witty repartee that Lo and I have is inimitable. 

I tried to make my position clear.  She accepted the boundaries I had set.  But she switched gears and now asked me all about Lo.  I gladly told her.  It was probably my best in-flight conversation.  By the time we landed, despite our fight or because of it, I wanted Lo more than ever.  (I gave Kayla the blog address, just so she could see for herself how it’s done.)

            I got home and as soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in for trouble.  Lo wasn’t talking to me except monosyllabic words.  “Hi.”

            “How are you?” I asked.

            “Fine.”

            You get the gist.  But she was dressed in a pink sleeveless t-shirt and her black lace panties.  That’s it.  She pranced around with her hard nipples poking through the front of her shirt, her side-boobs bouncing and peeking out from the open underarms.  She.  Looked.  Good. 

Surf’s Up

            I was hard.

            I wanted her.

            I needed her.

            I had no idea how to approach her.

            So I took the direct approach: “You wanna fuck?”

            “Your seduction technique is so subtle, yet captivating,” she said. 

            I knew I was making good progress because captivating is four syllables. 

            “Yeah,” I said, nonchalantly. 

            “Then why are you still wearing your clothes?”

            I stripped and she pulled down her panties. 

            Her pussy was smooth, shaven, pink and beautiful.

            “What’s the occasion?” I asked.

            “This?” she asked, stroking her lovely mons pubis.

            “Yeah,” I said, “that.”  For a moment I was under the impression that she was anticipating my return and that she had shaved for me.  She disabused me of that notion right away.

            “I told you,” she said, “I was seeing Robert last night.”

            We were in the bed now.  I was looking down at her lovely body.  “You did that for Robert?”

            “Semper fi,” she said. 
            “Semper fi?” I asked, perplexed.

            “Yeah,” she said, “Always prepared; the motto of the marines.”

            “Semper fi means ‘always faithful.’”

            “Oh,” she said.  “Whoops!”

            “You can say that again.  So, were you faithful?”

            “Fuck me and I’ll tell you.”

            I was arched over her and I enjoyed looking at her beautiful body as her hand guided my protruding member up and down her wet labia.  “Come on, Daddy,” she said, “fuck me.  You know you need it.  Take it.”

            I penetrated her.  From the feel of things, she needed me as much as I needed her.

            Once I had fully engorged her, I asked, “So, what happened last night?”

            She was too busy enjoying my rod.  She came within seconds.

            I waited for her to catch her breath.  “Tell me,” I commanded.

            “I met him at his house,” she said in her breathy voice.

            “What were you wearing?”

            “A short skirt.  My leather boots.  A tight top.”

            “Go on.”

            “I met him there.  He kissed me hello.”

            “On the lips?”

            “Yes.”

            “Mighty forward of him.”

            “I made sure it was on the lips.”

            “Oh.”

            “We talked a little and then he drove us to the restaurant.  I think he liked being seen in there with me.  It looked like a first or second date, I’m sure.”

            “What did you talk about?”

            “Him, mostly.  His needs.  His wants.  His desires.”

            “Oh, so you talked about you.”

            “You could say that.”

            She came again.  Nothing excites her as much as she.

            “And then?”

            “We went back to his place.  He invited me in.  He offered me a drink.  We sat on the couch.  Before I finished my first drink, we were making out.  His hands were under my top, feeling my breasts, pulling my nipples.”

            Too much!  I came.

            As I pulled out of her and rolled on my back, she said, “Well, I guess you’ll have to wait to hear how the night ended.”

            “Uh-uh,” I said, “You’re going to finish this slut-saga tonight.

            “Only if you’ll fuck me again.”

            “Start talking.  You know what your words do to me.”

            She moved closer to me and her index finger twirled around my flaccid cock as she spoke:

            His fingers were running up and down my clit over my panties.  Within a couple of strokes, my panties were soaked.  He could feel it. 

‘Why have you held out on me all this time?’ I asked Robert as he was feverishly trying to slide my panties over my boots.

            He got them off and he was trying to remove my skirt, but it has a zipper in the back.  I kissed him and slowly stood up, turned around, and let him unzip it.  The skirt fell to the floor and he felt my bare ass with his hands and then he began kissing it. 

            ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said.  ‘Even more beautiful than in your photos.’

            ‘Thank you,’ I said, turning around to face him.  He saw my silky smooth pussy.  He kissed it.  I came.  I came hard just from the light touch of his lips on my soft triangle.  I had to grab his shoulders to steady myself.  I pulled his head in to my tum and he kissed me as he slowly removed my shirt.  He sucked on my tits as I stood totally naked before him. 

            ‘Here I am, bare as the day I was born,’ I said, ‘and you have all your clothes on.’

            I began unbuttoning his dress shirt.  I got him out of it and out of his t-shirt.  I then got him to stand as I got on my knees and I undid his belt, his pants button, his fly, and slowly pulled down his trousers.  I could see his enormously long cock in his boxers.  I wanted it.  I pulled down his boxers and there it was, just as I remembered it.  It was beautiful, but it was as soft as you are right now.

            I was soft, but getting harder.  “He did tell us that he has a performance problem,” I said.

            “Yeah, I know,” she said.  “I sucked on it and gave it my best blowjob, but damn it all, I couldn’t get it hard.”

            “Really?!”  That was a first.

            “Yeah,” she said.

            “Please demonstrate,” I asked.  “Perhaps there is a problem with your technique.”

            That really pissed her off.  Never insult Lo’s skills in the bedroom, or any other room.

            She put her mouth on my cock and said, “I have impeccable technique.”  That she did.  She worked on my slack slinky and it slowly regained some rigidity. 

            As she lifted her soft lips off my stuff, she said, “He didn’t respond to my loving labia, so I got under him and opened wide, taking his huge balls in my mouth.  That he liked.  It got an immediate reaction.”

            “You are fond of instantaneous reviews.”

            “He then guided me to the bedroom where. . .” 

            “No, wait,” I interrupted, “let me get in you now.”  I was hard-up and wanted to hear the end of her story from a position that would allow me to gage her level of excitement.  I slid my arousal-meter inside her and she continued.

“We got into bed and, well, he was still having difficulty performing.  I asked him, ‘Do you want to look at some porn together?’”

“You wanted it bad, didn’t you?” I asked.

“I’m always up for porn,” she said, nonchalantly.  “And he was too.  He pulled up the blog.”

“Our blog?!”

“Yes.  What other blog?”

“OK.”

“And we scrolled through some pics together.  He settled on one of you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.  And he got hard.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No I’m not.  I asked him, ‘You like his cock?’ and he said, ‘Yes.’”

“You wouldn’t put me on like that, would you?”

“I swear,” she said, sincerely.  “I asked him more about it and he told me that he thinks his problem might be that he’s gay.  He said he likes being with women, but he gets turned on by looking at guys.”

“So what did you do?”

“We looked at some more porn together, mostly gay porn, cuck porn, and swinger porn.  He eventually turned me over, doggy-style, put his laptop on my back, and fucked me from behind.”

“He used you like a coffee table?!”

“Well, if someone invented a cross between a coffee table and a fuck doll, then, yes.”

“Good idea.”

“And then he asked me if he could go in my ass.”

“The audacity of that man!”

“And I said yes.”

“You little slut.”

“Yes, Daddy.  Say it again.  You’re turning me on.”

“You skank.  You trollop.”

“He went in my ass and then he asked, very politely, if he could cum in me.”

“You anal whore.  I bet you wanted him to.”

“Well, I had cum so many times by that point, it only seemed fair.”

After she said that, I came, not in her ass, but deep in her, for the second time. 

“I’m glad you were able to be so charitable while I was away,” I said.  I have to admit, I felt a twinge of jealously and, for a moment, I regretted not taking advantage of my opportunity on the plane. 

“Why didn’t you sleep over?” I asked her.

“It had been a long time since I had anal sex,” she began to say.

“Don’t I know it,” I added.

“And so I wanted to go home to clean up.  I’m sorry, but I may have made a bit of a mess on your car seat.”

“You mean, Robert’s mess.”

“Yes, Daddy.  Are you mad?”

“Lo, I can never stay mad at you.”

“But are you mad now?”

“No, Lo.  I’m actually perfectly content.” 

Turning the Screw

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            I had been away for three days and I hadn’t heard from Lo.  She hadn’t heard from me either because before I left we hadn’t properly made up after our fight.  On the fourth day of my five day trip I received a text from her around 6:00 pm.  It simply said, “Dinner plans with Robert tonight.”

            I immediately called her.  The stalemate of silence be damned, I had to know the details.  Was this a date?  What had transpired to bring this about?  Had she been having “dinner plans” with Robert all week?  There were so many questions swirling in my mind unanswered.  I had to know. 

            “Hello,” she said coldly.

            “Hello,” I said imitating her tone.

            “Did you call for something?”

            “I just, um, thought I’d say hi.”

            “Hi,” she said flatly.

            “What’s this I hear about plans with Robert?” I got right to the point since it was obvious why I was calling and I might as well drop the subterfuge. 

            “He and I are going to dinner tonight,” she said matter-of-factly.

            “Going out or going to his place?”

            “Out.”  She wasn’t revealing many details and I could tell she was secretly delighting in my curiosity.  She was hoping it was a manifestation of jealously.

            “Like, to a restaurant.”

            “That’s usually where couples go out for dinner.”

            “Oh, so now you’re a couple, are you?”

            “I’m just saying, in general.  But there will only be the two of us.”

            “Sounds romantic,” I said with some sarcasm.

            “A gal of my age, my looks, my intelligence deserves some romance.”  Ouch!  Cutting.

            “Well, have a good time.”

            “I intend to.”

            “OK,” I said, hurt from her comment, “bye.”

            She just hung up. 

            In this little game of cold shoulder, she was winning because she had a hot body attached to that cold shoulder.  Damnit!

            There was nothing I could do from hundreds of miles away but wait, for I knew that if something sexual were to happen between them, she wouldn’t delay in telling me, if for no other reason than to make me jealous.  Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t jealousy I was feeling, but longing, curiosity, desire, and a prurient prick of stimulation by my groin.  In other words, I wanted her.  I wanted her to want him and for him to have her and I wanted to be in on it.  But I was on the outs. 

            So I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  It was past ten, then eleven, and finally midnight when finally I got a text from her.  It read, “Driving home.  You can call me if you want.”

Date Night

            She knew me.  In the battle of who-can-outlast-whom, she outwitted me.  She won.  There was nothing to do but concede defeat.  I called immediately.

            “Hi,” I said mawkishly.

            “Oh, hi,” she said, as if surprised by my call.  A total ruse.

            “How was your night?”

            “It was good.”  She wasn’t going to reveal details until I had shown sufficient interest and she had tortured me to teach me who is boss.

            “What did you do?”

            “We had dinner.”

            “And?” she knew what I wanted to know.

            “And then went to his house.”

            “And?”

            “And we talked.”

            “And?” I was getting very frustrated, but I also knew she was going to put me through my paces. 

            “What would you like to know, Daddio?” she asked.  The use of Daddio meant two things: 1) Something salacious happened; 2) She felt vindicated enough to return to her proper role.

            “You know, dear.”

            “No, I don’t.  That’s why I’m asking.”

            “Well then,” she said, “you’ll just have to fly back home right away and ask me in person.

            “You’re not going to tell me?!”

            “I’m exhausted and I’m almost home.  Have a safe flight.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

            So I was wrong.  She hadn’t felt vindicated enough.  She was going to turn the screw a little tighter and let me lie awake and suffer my own self-inflicted punishment.  Cruel, cruel woman.   

Hot & Cold

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Oh, Hi!

            When I left, Lo and I were in a big fight.  It’s never good to leave for a week-long business trip halfway across the country on bad terms.  Especially with Lo.  There wasn’t one thing that was the catalyst of this rift, but rather lots of little things.  Both she and I had been dealing with pressures at work, I had been recovering from the flu, she had an unexpected major expense that had to be paid.  We both were stressed, exhausted, and short-tempered.  Each of us had been prickly with the other, like two porcupines in close quarters.   

            “Come here, Daddio,” she said the night before I left as I was getting ready for bed.  It was her way of trying to rekindle the relationship.  “I’m so cold.  Come and warm me up.”  Though she really was cold, she also was naked on the bed, spreading her legs for me, rubbing her puss.

            “Cold?  Looks to me like you have a very warm fleece,” I said of her au naturel triangle, “and all that friction you’re making might light that bush on fire.”  The words came out more sarcastic and biting than I intended.  My loving little banter was not warmly received.

Watering the Bush

            “If you don’t like it, you can’t have it,” she shot back, covering herself with the blankets. 

            “I never said I didn’t like it.”

            “Well, too late.  This bush is only for someone who truly appreciates me.”

            “And who might that be?”

            “ME!” she said, pulling out her Hitachi, her dildo, and her phone. 

            No sooner had she gotten the giant white ice cream cone revved up and the dildo delved in deep and the phone queued to one of her favorite porn videos than, to her great surprise, the phone rang!  She nearly jumped out of the bed.  She dropped the Hitachi and it was still buzzing.  Her dildo was left dangling, and she had to fumble with her phone as she said hello because all the moaning and groaning sounds of the porno film were still playing. 

            “Hi Lo,” the person on the other end said, “Is this an ok time?”

            “Yeah.  Yes.  Sure.  Just one sec.,” said Lo as she tried to compose herself and shut off all her stimulation devices.  Finally she was focused on the call and I climbed into bed next to her, stroking my cock.  Seeing her pleasure herself still gets me off after all this time.  But seeing her interrupted and frustrated is a rare delight. 

            It was Robert.  He needed someone to talk to.  He was feeling despondent.  And he had been scrolling through the blog. 

            I curled up next to Lo and whispered, “Don’t tell him I’m here,” as I guided my cock into her cupped hand.  She mindlessly gave me a hand-job as she talked to Robert.  Or rather, I should say, I eased my way in-and-out of her palm.  She was unaware of or unconcerned with my movements. 

            She talked to him in a consoling and kind tone, listening to his lament of loneliness.  He hadn’t been with someone in so long.  The night at the museum was such a powerful moment for him.  Since then he had done more study of Koons and his Made in Heaven installation. 

Jeff Koons and his wife Ilona Staller, “Made in Heaven”

            When I heard that, I was both amused and angered.  I’m the one who turned Lo onto Koons!  I deserve the credit for that.  Whatever.

            I continued to slide my cock in-and-out of her cupped hand.  I kept quiet. 

            “What did you like about it?” asked Lo to Robert in her seductive tone of voice.

            “I, um, I liked, I like that you suggested it to me.”

            “Really?” asked Lo, intrigued.  “Why?”

            “Lo, I, uh, I never met a woman like you.”

            “Go on,” she said, captivated by the story of herself.

            “You’re so brazen.  Is that the right word?  So, daring.  So. . .”

            “Slutty?”

            “That’s not the word I was going to use.”

            “Use it,” she commanded.

            “What?” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her properly.

            “Call me a slut.  I like it.  Say it.  I’m touching myself now.”

            She wasn’t.  She was holding the phone with one hand and my member with the other.

            “OK,” said Robert.  “You’re a slut.”

            “Yesss,” said Lo. 

            That was too much for me.  I pulled back and grabbed my cock and came all over myself as Lo looked on, desirously.

            Now she was touching herself. 

            “Are you jackin’ it?” she asked Robert.

            “Am I. . . ?”

            “Are you jacking off?  Stroking yourself?”

            “No,” he said, as if offended.

            “Why not?”

            “Lo, I didn’t call you like someone would call a phone sex service.”

            “You didn’t?”

            “No.  I. . .”

            “But you can.  What do you want to hear?”

            There was a long silence on the other end interrupted only by Lo’s occasional moans of pleasure.  Self-pleasure.

            “Do you want to hear that I loved sucking you off?” she asked.

            “You did?”

            “Yessss,” she said.

            “Why?”

            “I love sucking cock.  Any cock.  Lots of cock.  I love helping guys out.  I love giving relief.  Let me help you.  Are you by your computer?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  Pull up a pic of me if you haven’t already.”

            “I, I, I,” Robert stammered.

            “You already had it up, didn’t you?” accused Lo.

            “I did,” he admitted.

            “Good.  Which pic is it?”

            “It’s of you in your neon blue panties stroking your pussy lips.”

            “You like that?”

            “Yes.”

            “Why?”

            “It’s beautiful.”

            “Well that’s exactly what I’m doing right now.  I’m stroking my wet, pink, pussy lips with my beautifully manicured fingers, slowly sliding them up and down and in and out.  Does that turn you on?”

            “Yes.”

            “Are you stroking your cock?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good.  Now, I want you to hang up the phone and take pics of you stroking it to my pics.  Make sure my photo is in the frame so I know that I’m the one who is making you hard and makes you cum.  You will cum, won’t you?”

            “If you want me to.”

            “I do.”

            “OK.”

            “Do it and send me the pics.”

            “OK.”

            “And Robert.”

            “Yes?”

            “What am I?”

            “A dirty, filthy slut.”

            “That’s right.  Don’t forget it,” she said and she hung up on him. 

            I was cleaning myself off when she got the notification that a text was sent to her.  She opened it.  There were three photos.  One of Robert jackin’ it to her pics.  One of him cumming.  And one of the mess he made.  Lo looked at them again and again and she eventually came herself. 

            “Thanks,” I said. 

            “For what?” she said.

            “For making me cum,” I said.

            “Oh, did I do that?” she asked, sincerely unaware of her passive powers. 

            The next morning, before Lo woke up, I was off to the airport, sad that we hadn’t properly reconciled. 

Compersion

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Richard Prince – Girlfriend

            My good friend, Dr. Robert Smith, thought I was unaware of the time Lo sucked his cock, but there he was wrong.  Lo may cheat, but she doesn’t lie.  In fact, she brags.  Furthermore, I find her regaling me with tales of her infidelity arousing.  And Lo found Robert’s erectile dysfunction not only endearing, but a personal challenge. 

            The next time we saw him, at a fundraiser reception in an art museum, Lo affixed herself to him.  Arm-in-arm they strolled the corridors, pausing in dimly lit corners.  It was a nighttime event and the university spared no expense and was eager to show off its faculty to the wealthy alumni and other donors.  Because of the book I published long ago on art, I was one of the featured speakers.  After a brief hello exchanged with Robert, I was left to review my notes and consult with the university president about the order of the program.  However, every once in a while, I’d catch a glimpse of Lo leading Robert about, taking delight in the whispers and scandal that she was causing among our petty and gossipy colleagues.  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t irk me a little bit.  It would have been a totally different story if I could have been with them, observing, commenting, and teased by Lola’s cuckolding up close. 

            As it was, they disappeared out of my sight.  I only heard later, while horizontal with Lo in the darkness of our bedroom, impaling her with my rock-hard rod, between her gasps and groans, what happened. 

            “I walked with him as he politely escorted me through the various galleries: Impressionists, Expressionists, Cubists, and so on.  At each one he attempted to explain to me what I already knew, but I flattered him with my oos and ahs and reallys? – as if he were telling me something new.”

            “You’re bad,” I said.  “I bet you do that with me too.”

            “No, Daddy, never.”

            Her lies are transparent.

            She continued, “I knew the museum very well, of course, and I eventually led him to the contemporary art gallery.  I asked him if he liked contemporary art and he admitted he didn’t really understand it.”

            This was a rather intellectual conversation for pillow talk.  But I was willing to follow her lead. 

            She said in her sultry, seduction voice:

            When we got to the contemporary, I brought him to see Richard Prince and his ‘Girlfriend’ series.  He looked very confused and asked, ‘How can this possibly be art?’

Richard Prince, “Girlfriend” closeup

            I asked, ‘Don’t you find it beautiful?  The artist was so in love with his girlfriend that he chose to photograph her nude and put her up in an art gallery for all to see.’

            ‘That’s exploitation,’ he said.

            ‘Not if she likes it,’ I said.

            ‘A good feminist like you? –  How could you like it?’

            ‘How could I like being photographed naked and put on display for all to see?’ I asked to clarify his meaning.

            ‘I mean, how could you think that she likes it or that a woman likes it or. . .’ he stammered uncomfortably, ‘how could you like this,’ he said, indicating the large photograph.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘HH does the same for me.’

            ‘What are you talking about?’

            ‘He likes to photograph me nude and then share it with the world.’

            ‘What?!’ he asked, shocked. 

I looked down at his crotch to see if he was getting hard.  I think he was.

            ‘It’s called candaulism.  It’s a kink.  I’m surprised you don’t know of it – an educated man like you,’ I said, gripping his bicep.  ‘It comes from an ancient Greek story about Candaules, the king of Lydia, who was so proud of his beautiful wife, he arranged to allow his minister, Gyges, to see her naked.’

            ‘Is that so?’ he said, as if he were only academically interested.

            ‘Yes.  It turned out that the queen, Nyssia, was aware of the spying eyes and, according to legend, in order to teach her husband a lesson, summoned her husband to come to the bed and pleasure her.  Of course she knew that the figure in the shadows was not her husband, but, unable to escape, Gyges obeyed the command of the queen and, in the dim light, approached the bed.  All the while Candaules was secretly watching with a curious mixture of arousal and jealously.  Gyges entered the bed and then entered the queen.  She said all sorts of salacious things as they made love in order to drive the point of her lesson home, and that she did, wounding the suffering king with her cries of passion.  Finally, at the climactic moment, the king could hold back no longer and he made himself known to both Nyssia and Gyges.  Drawing his royal sword, the king made to slay the dutiful minister, but Gyges narrowly avoided the steel blade and, removing it from the king’s hands, impaled the king with his own sword.  A tragic tale, don’t you think?’

            ‘Yes, yes indeed.  And it should serve as a cautionary tale for HH.’

            ‘Oh, but that is all ancient history,’ I said, waving my hand.  ‘What HH and I do together is very fun.  Its proper term is ‘compersion.’  That is, the delight of seeing one you love pleasured by another.  Would you like to see?’ I asked, pulling out my phone. 

            ‘Perhaps later,’ he said just as we approached the Koons’ sculpture.  ‘Dear Lord!’ he exclaimed as he saw the porcelain rendering of Woman in Tub, ‘What is this gallery?!  The Museum of Pornography?!’

Not Koons’ “Woman in a Tub,” but Lola in a Tub – the inspiration

            ‘Oh, don’t be so rigid, and hardened in your ideas of beauty,’ I said to him as I patted him on the chest.  ‘This is a classic.’

Jeff Koons “Lady in a Tub”

            ‘Oh yeah, right up there with the Mona Lisa,’ he said sarcastically. 

            Having my phone out, I snapped a shot.  ‘It should be,’ I said.  ‘You’re just priggish in your stodgy ole professor way.  Don’t be such a prude.’

Art Appreciation

            “I bet you weren’t a prude, were you,” I said to Lo as I continued my steady rhythmic forays in and out of her puss with my cock. 

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

            They returned to the courtyard of the museum where I was to give my talk and I watched them sitting in the audience next to each other.  Lo’s legs were crossed and she was proudly displaying her beautifully shod foot.  At one point I saw them passing notes. 

            “What did you write to him?” I asked her.

            “I just wrote that I found it incredibly sexy to see you up there at the podium in the museum giving your talk.”

            “Really?”

            “True, Daddy,” she said.  “Do you like that?”

            “I do.”

            “And then I wrote that I was getting too wet to sit still.”

            “You didn’t!”

            “I did, Daddy.  That’s when I got up.”

            I remembered seeing her walk out on my speech.  The thought of the reason why was too much for the erogenous zone of my brain to handle and I unleashed a torrent of my pent-up desire inside her. 

            “Oh Daddy,” she said, surprised, “Stay in me while I tell you the next little part.”

            “OK,” was all I could mutter as I caught my breath.

I went to the Ladies Room and quickly took care of my craving.  When I returned, I sat next to Robert and asked if I missed anything.

He said, ‘No, but I feel like I missed something.’

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘What’s that?’

‘You,’ he said.

‘Me?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ he said.  ‘I missed you when you were gone and I’m supremely curious as to where you went and what you went to do.’

‘Come with me,’ I said, ‘and I’ll show you.’

We got up and I took him to the Medieval room of the museum, and there, in the dim light, surrounded by the muted reds and blues of the stained glass windows, I sat with him at a pew and took out my phone to show him all the photos of me from the blog, most of them of me masturbating. 

‘Robert,’ I said, ‘Here we are in a place of devotional art and you see all these beautiful images and the illuminated manuscripts over there?’

Lola Down – 21st Century Devotional

‘Yes,’ he said.

‘Well, this,’ I said, indicating the images on my phone, ‘is HH’s devotional literature for me.  This is the illuminated manuscript of the 21st century.  Sex is no longer sinful.  Sex is spiritual. And I am a sex goddess.’

            “How extraordinarily pompous of you!” I said. 

“You would have said the same,” she retorted.

“You know me too well.  But I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Rub off on me, Daddy!  Rub off on me!” she pleaded as I was still firmly sheathed in her dripping cunt. 

“What happened next?” I asked as I leaned into her, pressing my now tumescent cock deeper.  She came and she came in massive orgasmic waves.  Clearly the memory of being the object of worship was pleasing to her. 

            “Then he took the phone and looked at it as he leaned toward me.  Our lips touched and he held me tightly in his arms as our tongues entwined.  I saw that, as he was kissing me, he was looking over my shoulder at the phone he held in his hand, staring at my sexy photos.  I reached down and grabbed his cock and it was rock hard.  His other hand reached down and felt my soft leg all the way up to my panties.  I wanted so much more, but the event had just let out and we had to look presentable.”

            “That’s when I found you with him walking over to me with that devilish grin on your face.”

            “I thought I looked angelic.”

            “A devil is a fallen angel,” I reminded her. 

NILF

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6


Do you want your tie back too?

            “How have things with Linda been?” inquired Lo.

            “OK,” said Robert with a tone of disappointment.

            “Why just OK?”

            “She has one boyfriend in Naples, another in Amsterdam, and then she toys with me.”

            “Toys with you?” Lo’s ears perked up.

            Robert had made an excellent meal for Lo and me even though we had dropped in on him unexpectedly.  He is a very generous and hospitable man and he opened a bottle of wine for Lo as he and I enjoyed an excellent bottle of Scotch.  It was so good and so smooth that, before we knew it, he and I were on our fourth already.  It hit me all at once and I suddenly realized that I was having difficulty seeing straight.  

            “We Skype with each other once a week.”

            “Ooooh,” squealed Lo, “Skype sex.”  Her tongue slid over her front teeth.

            Robert blushed, “It’s not like that,” he protested.

            “I’m sure,” responded Lo.

            “No, really.  Well, maybe once in a long while.”

            “I knew it!”

            “But I meant no double entendre.  I simply meant that. . .”

            “Do you like to watch?” interrupted Lo.

            “What?”

            “Do you like to watch, to watch her, Linda, when she toys with you?”

            Robert squirmed a little in his seat, uncomfortable.  He’s tremendously uptight and prudish, but he also thinks of himself as enlightened and courageous, so he answered the question, “Well, yes.”

            “Do you reciprocate?”

            “That’s usually why she calls me on Skype.  To. . .”

            “To see you jack it?”
            “If you wish to put it that way, yes.”

            “I do like this gal.  When can I meet her?”

            “That’s just the thing.  She shuttles between Italy, Holland, and London and I don’t think we’ll be together in person again anytime soon.”

            “She can’t just puddle jump the pond and come over for a quicky?”

            Robert laughed at the suggestion.

            “Boy, you must be so hard-up,” said Lo seductively.

            Robert poured himself another whiskey and gestured to pour another for me.  I covered the top of my glass to decline the offer.

            “I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m going to lie down for a bit.”  I got up, unsteadily, and found my way to the guest bedroom.  It was right off the hall that went to the living room and so I heard snippets of their conversation from bed.   

            “I remember when I was between boyfriends,” Lo was saying, “not literally.  I mean, after I graduated college and before HH, I used to spend two or three nights a week at my friend Alyssa’s apartment.  She and I were the best of friends back then.  I had no romantic designs on her, but we’d share a bed, both of us naked, holding each other.  She and I were both single and on nights that we didn’t want to go home with a stranger, we’d take comfort in the love we shared.  After she fell asleep, I’d lie there, wide awake, horny, and I’d touch myself silently, careful not to wake her up with my strokes or my inevitably powerful orgasm.  Now that’s what I do next to HH sometimes.  Like tonight, I’ll probably have to do that since he drank too much.”

            Hearing her say that brought a smile to my lips as my mind drifted off on whiskey-saturated clouds.  I dozed for I don’t know how long before I was roused from my slumbers by the sound of Lo’s voice saying, “Are you sure you don’t want some company?”  She was just entering my room and, as I opened my eyes, I saw Robert’s shadow in the hallway. 

            “I’ve had too much to drink.  I’m going to feel like shit in the morning.  Thank you, Lo,” he said politely. 

            “Well, won’t you at least tuck me in?” she asked.  I saw her silhouetted against the hall light filling the doorway.  She slowly removed her blouse, dropped her jeans, undid her bra and took it off, and then slid out of her panties.  I felt her naked body sit on the edge of the bed and then lift up her legs on top of the covers under which I was lying.  Her legs spread and her hand stroked between them. 

            Robert entered the room timidly.  He bent down to offer Lo a kiss goodnight.  She pulled his arm and gently guided him into the bed.  “There’s room enough for all three of us,” she said. 

            He got into the queen-size bed.  I heard Lo kiss him and before very long I heard him sleeping.  I was about to drift off again myself when I felt and saw Lo caressing herself, there, naked, between the two of us.    

            After a restless night of beautiful dreams, I awoke to find Lo next to me, naked, and Robert next to her, fully clothed.  She was nestled up to his body with her right hand on his crotch.  I was holding her – a big spoon to her little spoon – caressing her breasts. 

            I carefully extricated myself from the scene and snuck into the kitchen to make coffee.  I found my phone in my pocket and on it was a text from Lo.  It was sent only a few hours earlier: “Can I fuck Robert?  Please!” 

            I texted her back: “Good morning, my love.  I was hard-up all night – from the moment you got into the bed next to me to the moment I woke up next to you, caressing your breasts and your sweet ass.  Your warm, soft, luscious, naked body looks lovely in the morning light.  In my dreams a word came to mind for you – NILF: Nymph I’d Like to Fuck.  Yes, that’s you. 

By all means, feel free to get Robert up!  You have my permission to rouse him.  Show him what a NILF you are.” 

            I was sitting, enjoying a warm cup of coffee when Lo sauntered into the living room wearing one of Robert’s dress shirts, covering her sexy body down to the middle of her thighs.  She said nothing.  She just cozied up to me on the couch. 

            “How are you, sweetheart?”

            “I missed you, Daddy.”

            “What about Robert?”

            “Out like a light.”

            “And you?”

            She nestled her face into my chest and said something inaudible. 

            “What?”

            She looked up at me and repeated it in a whisper, “I need to get fucked.”

            “By me or him?”  I asked, adding after, “Or both?”

            “Preferably both, but I’ll take what I can get.”

            I stood up and dropped my trousers.  She bent over the side of the couch and I entered her from behind.  She held herself in place with her left hand and rubbed herself between her legs with her right.  It took all of 90 seconds before she came the first time, audibly.  It was about another minute and a half before she came a second time, even louder.  The third time took about five minutes and it was deafening. 

            I pulled out and said, “You’re just trying to wake him up, aren’t you?”

            “Am I a good NILF or bad?”

            “It doesn’t matter, dear.”

            “Why not?” she asked, puzzled.

            “Because you’re my NIFL and I love you.”

            She got on her knees and sucked me off until I came in her mouth and then she got up and we made breakfast together.  The aroma of the eggs and toast must have woken Robert, because he finally emerged from the bedroom holding his head.

            “Owe!” he lamented, “Aspirin!”

            “Here,” said Lo, helping him to sit down at the table.  “Have some of this,” she said as she poured him some orange juice and went into the bathroom to get the aspirin.  She came back and nursed him. 

            “That’s my shirt,” said Robert after a moment.

Daddy’s shirt

            “Oh, sorry,” said Lo.  “Do you want it back?” she asked and made as if to unbutton it. 

            “No,” said Robert, “I just realized – it looks much better on you.”

            We had breakfast together and then Lo removed the shirt and handed it back to Robert.  “I’m just going to change and then we’ll be going,” she said, standing naked before him. 

            Robert was speechless. 

            “Thanks for the hospitality.  But next time, try not to drink so much,” she said before disappearing into the bedroom. 

            “Do you remember what happened last night?” asked Robert of me.

            “Yes,” I said.

            “Do you mind sharing?”

            “No,” I said, “but when I share, it is only good manners to stay sober enough to be up for it.” 

[Editor’s note, this story involves Dr. Robert Smith. For previous stories that include him, click on the links to: Well Laid, Hey Good Lookin’, Pyro, Happy as a Clam, Good Night, My Whore, and Attention Slut. There’s no need to read those stories in that order for this story, but if you are interested in the long flirtation between Lo and Dr. Robert Smith, you can get the backstory in those posts.]