Category Archives: Nymphomania
Protected: Sister Sadist
Labor Day – Two Women who Work
Reply
Mrs. Sins
Today is Labor Day and in honor of those who work, we want to introduce you to two friends (of ours and each other) who work hard for their money. We also want to ask you to support them through a very special gift.
Samantha (Sammi) Masog and Mrs. Sins.
I’ll let Sammi tell you about herself and her business:
My name is Sammi. I am from a small town in central Minnesota. I am currently expecting my first child. My husband and I are very excited and nervous! We have two beautiful little kittys named Heinrich and Leonardo. I have always loved photography. I am the person that notices the small things most would overlook.
While looking to make a living from the thing I love doing I stumbled across boudoir. It was super intriguing to me. It was a way for women to feel like the sexual creatures that they are, but also gave them a chance to see their beauty in a different light. We sometimes get stuck in being a role for other people and forget to see who we really are. So I started taking on clients. It was incredible to see these people light up with the way they saw themselves through my eyes. I ended up with a whole new appreciation for the human form. In every body is something truly spectacular. If you look for the beauty, it’s easy to see. Society has made this a much more difficult task, especially towards ourselves. Because of this and knowing exactly how it feels to be told you’re not pretty enough and that no one wants you, I want to make sure women everywhere know that is untrue. That led me to become a life coach. I wanted to help people in a more specific way. So I honed in on empowering women. Thus my Empowerment Coaching was born.
I coach women to unlearn the negative things about themselves and to learn how to embrace the beauty they already behold. Through monthly or biweekly session I help break down those barriers that keep us thinking “I wish I looked like (blank).” We work on affirmations to ensure that you are your most confident and true self. There is so much more to this world than just looking beautiful all the time. We need to cherish every part of ourselves. And I want to help people do that. When I combine coaching with my photography I can help women truly accept who they are and not who they think they should be.
Samantha Masog, Self Portrait
Samantha has used her talents and art to inspire so many women to be confident and proud of themselves. And, as she describes it, it is a labor of love. She also will be going into labor soon.
Speaking of going into labor, Mrs. Sins – already confident and proud of her beauty – took a set of photos when she was pregnant that we think you might enjoy!
Mrs. Sins expecting
Mrs. Sins Pregnant
Though she sometimes takes selfies, usually Mrs. Sins is photographed by her loving husband, Mr. Sins. Though he tends to be a little more camera shy than the Mrs.
Mr. & Mrs. Sins
Unlike a lot of the people we profile here, Mr. & Mrs. Sins don’t run an OF page or anything else to make money off of their artful photography. They do it for the sheer love of it.
Did I say “sheer”?
They recently requested a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts and said that they loved it!
Mrs. Addy Sins reads Match, Cinder & Spark
Cover as Cover Up
Sometimes Mommy Needs some Alone Time
In order to show our appreciation and to help out two amazing women, we ask you to contact Sammi and make a donation to help pay for Addy to do a boudoir session with her and get some professional sexy photographs made of her for Mr. Sins, you, and all of us!
You can contact her here:
Instagram: rose.lens.empower
Facebook: Facebook.com/roselensempower
We’ll update you with the results!
Mr. & Mrs. Sins
A Time to Love
Lola’s older sister, Roberta Go
“Gazing at the written world, seeing the elegant self-restraint that guards an inner decomposition, a biological decay until the last moment from the prying eyes of the world; that bilious, sensually disadvantaged ugliness that is able to kindle its smoldering fire into a pure flame and to even usurp the throne in the kingdom of beauty.”
– Death in Venice, Thomas Mann
“Really?” asked Lo as I mixed the gin in with the tonic and sliced up a sliver of lime.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s not even noon.”
“What is time in a global pandemic anyway?”
We were two weeks into lockdown. We were stranded in paradise. Far away from our everyday hustle and bustle, cold weather, friends and family, we followed the dire warnings about travel a week into our winter vacation to the beachside resort town. The sun was shining, the sea breeze gently moderating the temperature, the inviting golden sand beckoning us to walk through it barefoot. But all the amenities of this place were off-limits. One-by-one each pleasurable pastime was shut down, cordoned off, closed – first the bars and restaurants, then the beach itself, and finally the boardwalk. We were allowed to walk on the sidewalks, but that was it. There was nowhere to go anyhow. We could take our lives in our hands and go to the supermarket to get necessities (if we could find them on the bare shelves), but we didn’t want to do that and we made as infrequent visits there as possible.
News of sickness, disease, and death were filtering into every media channel. It seemed that even if we didn’t watch the news, we still couldn’t escape it – it was in the air. The stock market was tumbling down off a cliff, unemployment was spiking, and anxiety was everywhere. We couldn’t hug our neighbors for comfort, for they may be the vicious vector conveying the virus within their sincere attempt at reassurance.
Lola and I were utterly alone on the 25th floor of a resort hotel overlooking the vacant beaches and streets with nothing but the brilliant yellow, blue, and wisps of white for company. On the horizon we could make out three giant cruise ships forbidden from docking for fear of their deadly cargo. We were informed that the virus was rampant and people dropping with asphyxiation on the decks, desperately looking to the shore for some sort of assistance, in vain.
Death surrounded us. So why not have a gin-and-tonic after breakfast? I had plunged into nihilism.
Yes, I still had Lola as my companion, but there was little for me to write about regarding “my sexlife with Lola.” Her trysts, flirtations, and dogging down by the pool area were prohibited by the pandemic. Yes, she still masturbated three, four, five times a day, but I’ve written about that in such detail and with such frequency that there is hardly anything new I could bring to the topic. Our lives beat on with the same monotony as the repetitive waves upon the shore.
Until one day our desperation to escape the gloom of death and destruction was relieved. We found solace in the strangest of places. While preparing for her Friday morning fap session, Lo was doing her usual foreplay routine which includes checking her elicit email account. In it, she discovered a missive from her sister Robie, whom she hadn’t seen for a dozen years or more. Even with me, she had only mentioned her in passing as her “estranged sibling.” All I knew about her was that she was older and residing abroad. How on earth did she find Lo’s secret email account?
After getting the email, Lo called me into the bedroom and explained some of the backstory.
“She’s older and when we were kids we slept in the same bed. It became. . . interesting. . . when she grew boobs. Long story short, we got caught, she got kicked out of the house and sent to boarding school and then to Europe. We were separated for a long time.”
“Why did she suddenly write to you now?” I asked.
“I’m getting there,” said Lo, still naked under the sheets, slowly stroking between her legs as she spoke, “During COVID lockdown she needed something to help her get off. She was scouring the internet to find the really dirty stuff. She came across (and to) our blog and, because I don’t show my face, was fapping to it regularly, not knowing it was me – her sister – that was making her horny, until one day she noticed something that gave me away. She reached out and sent this photo of her with the ebook of Match, Cinder & Spark.”
Robie with our ebook
She showed me the photo. I was in a state of shock; first by the events that led to this interaction and then by the family resemblance I saw between Lo and Robie.
“She’s beautiful,” I uttered unconsciously.
Lo took offense. Always jealous.
“I mean, she looks so much like you. It’s a compliment.”
Apparently Lo, being the younger sister, always took a backseat to Robie. My comment brought back all those jealousy issues.
Since that first email exchange as adults, the two have reconnected on a number of levels, not least of which is that they frequently get off to each other long-distance.
I suppose the ever-present, yet occasionally more pressing, specter of death can reunite as well as rend.
Robie showing that she has been using Lo to get off
Protected: Lola Springs Eternal
Protected: Reentry
Protected: Space
The Master
[Continued from Immoral Support.]
Lo’s Casual Connection Clothes
It was a long, tense time of waiting, but ultimately Cam tested negative for pregnancy. Lo was elated. Not only did it mean that the lucky winner wouldn’t be from the corrupted batch of sperm, but it also meant another session with Ted. Unfortunately, that’s not how it turned out. When the Bat-signal was given, indicating that Cam’s ovulation was at hand, Lo couldn’t make it on the evening when Ted would be there. As a consolation prize, Lo sent Ted a few sexy pics. He reciprocated by sending Lo a photo of him in the act of donating, using Lo’s photo as inspiration. Lo was over the moon with joy and arousal when she saw his pic.
Yet another month passed and the magic potion had not produced the desired effect.
Lo and Ted’s services were required again and this time Lo didn’t disappoint. She showed up early, wearing one of her most slutty outfits – tight jeans, jackpot top, and leather boots.
A Look at Lo
She walked in like a boss and chatted with Cam and Gina as they awaited Ted’s arrival. Lo could tell she had their attention and she liked it. She basks in sexual energy directed at her. Cam and Gina revealed that Ted had shown them the very explicit photo he had used last time. Lo feigned indignation, saying, “That was private! For his eyes only!” But she added, “Well, I guess that makes it ok for me to show you this,” and she proudly displayed the pornographic photo Ted had sent her.
The women had a good laugh about Ted’s less-than-average sized cock, but they both assured Lo of his skill in bed. (I know that I have described Ted’s member as “long, hefty meat,” but I was relying on Lo’s description, prior to the visual evidence.)
Ready to Donate
“I wouldn’t know,” said Lo, referring to their praise of his sexual skill. “I’m here strictly for clinical purposes. It’s purely Pavlovian. I elicit a response that produces the desired effect in order to facilitate the procreative process. It’s quite literally the closest I will ever get to being a biological parent. But it’s a role I’m used to,” she said enigmatically, referring, of course, to her crucial part in bringing about the very writing you are reading. She is the active agent in this alchemical magic causing a conception in the mind.
Ted walked in, greeted the trio, and entered the bedroom. Lo followed.
“Let’s not have any missed opportunities,” said Lo, referring to the trajectory of Ted’s last salvo that had landed so far off target. “I’ll take matters into my own hands this time. Drop your pants,” commanded Lo like a doctor in the examination room.
Ted complied and Lo grabbed the plastic cup in one hand and with the other she stroked Ted’s cock. She did it professionally, detached, again, like a doctor performing a routine exam. He was standing, hunched over. Lo leaned over slightly and whispered in his ear.
“Feel good?”
“Yes.”
“You like how I tug you?”
“Yes.”
“I have a lot of practice. A lot.”
Indecipherable groan.
“You’ll tell me when you’re close.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to cum for me?”
“Yes.”
“Cum for me. Cum for me. Cum for me.”
Did Ted know that Lo was reenacting the scene from The Master in which Amy Adams jacked off Phillip Seymour Hoffman? Need I say, she performed masterfully.
The Master with Amy Adams and Phillip Seymour Hoffman
Cum he did and Lo’s dexterous hands insured that every last drop was collected for its intended use by Cam and Gina.
Immoral Support
Lo Bursting her Blouse
[Continued from Brass in Pocket]
“You can’t use lube, moisturizer, not even spit or pussy juice,” warned Cam. “The fitness of the sperm depends upon it.”
“I understand,” said Lo, clinically neutral in tone.
Ted had seen Lo’s photo and was intrigued. He consented to have her help in the donation room.
“I might just observe the first time,” said Lo.
We had been invited to Cam and Gina’s house for dinner in order to meet Ted. It was awkward at first. But Lo’s seductive stares boosted Ted’s ego, I’m sure. I don’t think Lo was as attracted to him, per se, as she was attracted to the idea of being a facilitator for a man to ejaculate. The set-up captivated her more than the stud.
Lo got the call from Cam one afternoon. “It’s time.”
Off she went to their house the next day. I stayed home. I was superfluous to the process. This was two people trying to conceive, after all, not a spectator sport.
Lo and Ted went into the spare bedroom as Cam and Gina were in the master bedroom. Lo had worn a button-down white shirt with a collar. It seemed two sizes too small for her. Under it she wore a lacey red bra. She had on a short leather miniskirt with a red lace thong under it. On her feet were red heels. Her toenails and fingernails were fire engine red, as were her lips. She was the picture of crimson seduction.
She sat in a corner chair in the bedroom. Ted stood over the bed.
“I usually look at some porn on my phone,” he said to Lo.
“Go right ahead,” replied Lo.
“I don’t really need to today,” he said shyly. “I mean, if you don’t mind me looking at you.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, I guess. You look great,” he said.
“Pull out your cock,” Lo said, not mincing words.
Ted unzipped and reached into his boxers to pull out his long, hefty meat.
“Take off your pants. You have to aim that thing and those will just be in the way,” said Lo, indicating the plastic cup on the bed that had a diameter of about three inches. “Come on, don’t be shy. This is for Cam and Gina.”
He pulled out his cock. It was limp.
“Mmmmm,” moaned Lo, encouragingly. She licked her tongue over her pearly white teeth.
“Do you like cock?”
“You have no idea,” she said. “Do you like tits?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you like mine?” she asked, boosting her tits with her arms so they burst out of her small bra and blouse.
“They’re hot.”
“Jack it.”
Ted began to stroke his cock.
“What turns you on?” asked Lo.
“Um, I, uh, I don’t know,” he said, his cock getting soft again in his hand.
“Tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”
“I like dirty talk.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“I like women to say nasty things.”
Lo leaned over in her chair. She rested her head on her hands and her elbows rested on the bed. Her mouth was mere inches away from his cock. She looked up at him.
“Cum for me. Stroke your long, thick cock and cum for me.”
Ted began stroking. He inched forward toward Lo’s face.
“That’s it. Pretend I’m a little whore who wants to swallow your hot jiz.”
She put her tongue out and she could tell he was about to cum. She held up the receptacle to the tip of his penis and. . .
“Holy shit!” said Lo, her face covered in Ted’s torrent. “You totally missed!”
“What are we going to do now?” he asked, scared.
Lo used her fingers and swiped as much of the sticky pearlescent goo into the container as she could.
“We can’t do that,” protested Ted.
“Shut up and get me a towel.”
Ted complied.
Handing her the towel, he apologized obsequiously. “I’m so so sorry. I don’t know how that happened. I guess I was excited. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s ok,” laughed Lo. “I liked it. Now just play it cool.”
“But,” Ted began to protest.
“It’s ok. Just give them the collection jar. I don’t wear makeup. Only on my eyes and luckily you missed my eyes.”
Lo’s Lips
Brass in Pocket
Continued from ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor
Lola uses her arms
“What do you think you’re going to do with this Ted?” I asked Lo as we drove home from Cam and Gina’s.
“I like to imagine what he’s going to do with me,” she responded, looking out the window into the middle distance as the storefronts and pedestrians streamed by on the illuminated street.
“What does that mean? You heard them, he’s involved with a guy.”
“Meh,” she sounded, dismissively.
“Meh? What if you get in the room with him and he can’t get it up?”
“He won’t agree to it if he thought that would happen.”
“What if he doesn’t agree to it?”
“You miss every pitch you don’t swing at.”
“Clever, but in this instance, he’s holding the bat.”
“I sure hope he is!”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I’ve been called worse. . . and I like it.”
“This is Cam and Gina’s attempt at getting pregnant, not your opportunity to turn a trick.”
“When a door closes, a window opens.”
“Will you stop with the platitudes. They’re not even appropriate.”
“Are you jealous, Daddy?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she might be turning me on with her antics.
“No, I’m confused.”
“There’s nothing to be confused about, Daddy. It’s all very straightforward.”
“Explain.”
“I love to see men jacking off. You know that. You don’t do it for me nearly enough.”
“I hardly have the opportunity; you’re on me before I can even stroke it.”
“Nevertheless. Here is a perfect chance to see a man do it, live, in person. Not just photos.”
“But it’s a complicated situation.”
We arrived home. When we were in the bedroom, we continued the conversation.
“I am troubled by your enthusiasm for this ‘helping hand’ business.”
“It’s not a business. . . yet, but who knows. Maybe I could become a fertility assistant – like a midwife, but instead of aiding in the birth of a baby, I aid in the ejaculatory process.”
“Lo, be serious for a moment.”
“I was,” she said, deadpan.
“Sometimes I think you believe yourself to be God’s gift to men.”
“And on the eighth day, God said, ‘Let there be Lola.’ Eve can be a helpmate. I’ll be the playmate.”
“After a day of rest, God had a wet dream and Lo and behold!”
“Lo and behold. I like that. I’m Lo, you’re Behold.”
I took out my cock and grabbed it for her.
“To have and to hold, ʼtil death do you part,” she said.
“So, if I were Ted, what would you do?”
“The possibilities are endless. Should I give him my ass, Daddy?”
“You can’t, remember? The specimen has to be immaculate.”
“I’m insulted!!! Are you saying my ass isn’t immaculate?”
“No, I was just saying. . .”
“Immaculate conception, right. I’m just teasing you. Should I lick him?”
“Off limits.”
“Jerk him off?”
“No lubricants allowed.”
“I could use my feet.”
“That’s ok.”
She broke into song:
Gonna use my arms,
Gonna use my legs,
Gonna use my style,
Gonna use my sidestep,
Gonna use my fingers,
Gonna use my, my, my imagination.
With each lyric, she pantomimed the part. She used her arms to boost up her breasts; she got on her back to spread her legs; she licked her lips slowly, seductively, she put her fingers down her panties, and then, she squirted just as I came.
“I see I got your attention.”
“Yes, you did. Now, if you can just get Ted to do that.”
“Oh, I will, don’t you worry.”
Lola uses her legs