Lola helps her bf cum
Writing is a solitary act. Writing a sex blog is not. Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.
“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.
Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean? Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”
After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic. I love helping couples cum together.”
My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.
A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.
“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.
“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.
“Justin.”
“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”
Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.
“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.
“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”
“What is?”
“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”
“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”
“I recommend you get it hard.”
“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.
“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”
One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him. She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men. The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”
One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.
“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.
“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.
“Do men just want to see your pussy?”
“No,” she said, “women do too.”
“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”
She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”
“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.
“Oooo, what sort of game?”
“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”
“Funny, but no. Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”
“I can’t, I have to get to work.”
“Just bend me over and fill me up.”
“It’s not a Quickie Mart. I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”
“Why not?”
I walked over to her. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart. I touched her inner thigh.
“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.
“I want you to do what makes you happy.”
“Then I should be doing you. I wanted you last night,” she said.
“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”
“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”
“You didn’t say you wanted me.”
“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”
“I like to hear you say it.”
She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed. She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips. “Get back in bed.”
“Why?”
“Cause I said so.”
“Why?”
“Cause.”
“What do you want?”
“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”
I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit. “OK.”
She fondled me more. “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”
“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”
“Fuck me.”
Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”
“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me. I’m always open.”
After she came, I got out of bed.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I have a lot of things to do. You were just first on the list.”
I went to work. It was her “work at home” day. Yeah, right.
When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.
“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said. “Feed me.”
“What do you want?”
“Your meat.”
This was as close as a request as I was going to get. I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her. I reached down between her legs.
“You’re sopping wet.”
“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”
“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.
“I jilled it this morning.”
“Without me?!” Again, faux-surprise.
“I got lonely.”
“Lonely or horny?”
“Both.”
“So you jilled it all morning?”
“Not all morning. It went into the afternoon.”
“And you still want me now?”
“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.
“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.
“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”
“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”
“What do you think this is, golf?”
“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”
“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.
I was poised to penetrate her. She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit. She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.” Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that. Yes.” Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”
I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you. I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”
“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.
After she came, I got out of bed.
“Where are you going?”
“To eat my lunch. That’s what I came home to do.”
“But what about me?” she whined.
“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”
“And diddling my bean!”
“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”
“Don’t go!” she pleaded.
“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”
“Get in the bed and fuck me.”
“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”
“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”
“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.
“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to fight.”
“We’re not fighting.”
“We’re not?” she asked.
“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”
“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”
I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.
I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”
It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”
“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”
“That’s it,” I said, pulling out. “I’m going to go out for lunch.”
I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.
I popped back in and looked at her.
“Unarmed?” I asked.
Another pillow flew at me. I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.
Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”
“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”
“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”
I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”
When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.
I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.
“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.
“It’s not a sundress. It’s a shirt.”
“Well, it should be a sundress. What an ass! You look great in that sundress!”
“It’s not a sundress!”
“Let me take a picture of you.”
“No. But I think it’s cute that you want to.”
“You look so good. Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”
When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.
“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up. Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”
“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.
“What?”
“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”
“Robert?! Seriously?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I should have told you.”
“When did these plans happen?”
“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.
“Lo.”
“After you left. I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”
“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.
“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.
“No,” I said. “I’m tired and I’m hungry. I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”
“That still might happen,” she said. “The night is young.”
“And I’m old.”
“You can say that again.”
“And I’m old.”
“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”
“You weren’t even born then.”
“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you. I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you. You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”
I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.
Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.
“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.
“Did you jack off to it at work?”
“No!”
“Well why not? You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know. A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work. I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”
“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”
“Precisely.”
“But I can fuck you at home.”
“It’s not the same.”
Just then the doorbell rang. Robert was at the door.
“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.
“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.
“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”
“Not longer than an hour?”
“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”
I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out. “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.
Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”
I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table. No Robert.
She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.
One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”
“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’ You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”
“That’s funny,” she said to me.
“Shake a stick at?”
“Yeah.”
“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her. “How was your dinner date?”
She didn’t answer my question. She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.
She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me. She clearly wanted me to fuck her. But I wanted her to ask. She said, “You have to learn to intuit. Intuit! Intuit!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face. Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.
She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.
A breathy moan.
She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.
She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.
“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”
“Well, I think you need to take a break.”
“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”
“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”
“It enhances the experience.”
I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.
She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”
“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.
She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife. “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”
“Such a sincere sentiment. It should go in a Hallmark card.”
“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.
“What is?”
“A line of Lola greeting cards.”
“Perhaps you could create them. I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”
And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”
“It’s quite alright. Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm. Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”
“I’m sorry!” she said again.
“It’s ok. I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”
“It was hardly premature,” she said.
She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before. Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.
“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.
I couldn’t answer. I was too busy imagining her with Robert.
“Did you get a good meal? Did it fill you up? I was so full up,” she said.
I was speechless.
“Were you thinking of me, Daddy? Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me? Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”
“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”
“No, Daddy. We just fucked. He bent me over the table and fucked me. Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table. The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs. I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all. Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass. Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another. He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care. I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet. Fuck me! Fuck my holes! I said, but he came and came deep in me. He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”
She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum. And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously. So much that it came out of her nose. She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.
“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.” I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”
Lola’s Christmas Card
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