Category Archives: orgasm
Op-Ed from the Politico-Parody Press
3
Breaking News: Sanna Marin, the thirty-six year old, female, Finnish prime minister had fun!
Prime Minister of Finland Sanna Marin
Yes, there is evidence and she has even confessed to it publicly. At a news conference, she admitted to being “boisterous” with her friends at a party. Subsequently, a photo of two women, kissing, and revealing their breasts, though covered by a sign that said “Finland,” appeared on the TikTok of Sabina Särkkä, a thirty-three year old “influencer” and friend of the Finnish prime minister. She was one of the two women engaged in the now infamous kiss/flash, though Sanna Marin was not the unknown second woman.
This appalling, immoral scandal raises serious political questions, not only for Finland, but for us all across the globe. If women must be politicians and national leaders, where are the respectable, upright, joyless, sexless prime ministers such as Margaret Thatcher, Angela Merkel, and Golda Meir? They didn’t party. They didn’t dance. And they certainly didn’t pose for an official photoshoot in just a pantsuit and jacket, no bra, with a neckline that goes down to the navel!
Do you see cleavage on Sanna Marin?
Ever since the United States Food and Drug Administration approved contraceptive pills, or “the Pill,” in 1960, it would seem that women were given license to enjoy sex without consequences, that is, to be licentious. Historically, for millennia, that right was the exclusive province of men. And so, in the face of such unabashed enjoyment by the female sex – that has had many other culture-controverting effects such as women in the workplace, in the armed forces, and even in politics! – it is entirely appropriate to censure Sanna Marin for her public display of enjoyment, even if she was enjoying in private.
Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin visits the Rogue’s Gallery, before a portrait of the author, HH.
Women enjoy dancing, singing, and displaying their breasts has the desultory implication that they may also enjoy sex. This cannot be! Such heresy to the patriarchal hierarchy that has existed since the dawn of civilization must be excoriated from our society. To that end, we are beginning to see the pendulum shift in the other direction. In America, the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization has put an end to the formerly constitutionally protected right for a woman to obtain an abortion. There are many new laws that have either been passed or at least proposed to make it illegal to purchase, sell, or mail contraceptives and/or “abortion pills.” A few states are making it illegal for parents of so-called “transgender” youth to seek gender reassignment surgery and/or for doctors to perform it. States such as Texas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Utah, and Florida have passed or proposed laws censoring books deemed “sexually explicit,” “obscene materials,” “sensitive materials,” and “pornography.”
To this end, America should reinstate the Comstock Act, criminalizing using the U.S. Postal Service to mail any obscenity, contraceptives, abortifacients, or sex toys and authorizes the postal service to confiscate birth control sold through the mail. That will teach women that sex is not something to be enjoyed!
Is it really surprising that Sanna Marin has exhibit such behavior? After all, she is a woman who is the product of divorce and was raised by two women in a loving relationship. Perhaps it is due to this lesbian influence that Marin was recently spotted at a preview for the scandalous art exhibit, the Rogue’s Gallery, featuring the notorious nymphomaniac and porno-star, Lola Down. If ever a woman took pleasure, delight, and enjoyment in the act of sex – whether between her and a man, her and many men, her and a woman, her and many women, her and women and men, or with herself (most often) – it is Lola Down. The whole exhibit should be shut down and confiscated as deplorable depictions of degenerate art! Most damning of all, Sanna Marin is reputed to have said about the Rogue’s Gallery that it was “stimulating to both mind and body.”
Need I say more?
Prime Minister of Finland visits a preview of the Rogue’s Gallery and admires the paintings and drawings depicting Lola Down
Anti-Lola protester
Pro-Lo supporter of sex for women
Finding Lola – Three Covid Stories
Covid Quarantine had a way of messing with our mental life. It has been well documented that people reported having more intense dreams during the first lonely months of quarantine. Since then, many people have experienced a strange time distortion when attempting to recall any sort of chronology. Things basically fall into B.C. (“Before Covid”) and whatever it is that we’re living through now. But placing events exactly on a timeline post-Covid is a bit wonky.
For us, Covid was a time when we made a lot of new friends virtually. In order to help people through the forced “celibacy” of the quarantine (both single people and the people like us who are non-monogamous and so had to curtail their outside playtime) we started up our free books program where we sent a complimentary copy of Match, Cinder & Spark to friends, fans, and avid readers in exchange for their sending back to us a sexy photo of them with the book. That was so much fun that we’ve continued it on a limited basis. (Please request one via email if you’re interested.)
We heard from a lot of you out there in Lolaland and we continue to receive sexy missives from our beloved kinkster community.
This week we are going to feature three short stories sent to us by new and old friends. Diving into Lola’s Letter Box, we are pleased to bring you a story about a single college student, a married couple, and sisters who learned a lot about each other in lockdown.
The first comes from Melissa, a college student who, like Grace, was stuck at home with her parents in the spring of 2020. “At the time, it was the middle of my freshman year. I’m a shy introvert, an voracious reader, a bookish nerd,” she says.
I also am a closeted nymphomaniac. With limited tolerance for social interactions, I found that it was just easier to get off on my own. In fact, that’s how I found your blog. I was concerned about my internet porn binging and, by doing a search to find some way out of it, I came across Erica Garza’s book, Getting Off. And not only did I come across it, I came to it and got off even more! I couldn’t get off enough and so I did a deep dive (into my pussy and on the internet) until I found your post about ‘Her Porn Addiction’ and everything I read, except for Lo’s confidence and extroverted personality, sounded very familiar to me.
After that, she was hooked. She became a regular reader of the blog for a while, but she was hungry for more. Similar to Grace, she was afraid of ordering one of the books and having it arrive at her house, only for someone in her family to discover it and expose her. So, she too found a way to get off during those isolating times though other means. “I purchased all five volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark on audiobook and masturbated every night to the voice of Jupiter Grant reading the sexy stories while simultaneously scrolling through the photos of Lola on the blog.”
As we all remember so well, getting out during Covid Quarantine, even just to do shopping or go for a drive, was a big deal. Melissa relayed that her favorite sexy thing to do was to up the stakes and take risks by getting in the car and playing the audiobook on the speakers while wearing a skirt with no panties and finger-fuck herself or dildo while driving.
Lying down in bed, masturbating naked was fine, but it didn’t have the interaction I craved. I wanted to be around people. Also, there’s a difference between hearing Jupiter Grant’s voice through the earbuds and hearing her through the car’s speakers. Every chance I got, I borrowed my mom’s car and went for a drive. Listening to the stories was like an education – I learned about some great books I should read and I learned about sex. Win-win! But as the months got warmer, I would drive around with the windows down. One day I pulled up to a stoplight just as Lola was describing being mounted and pounded, used and abused, in the story ‘Pound.’ I was on the verge of cumming when I noticed the guy in the car next to me had his windows down as well and he heard everything that was making me so wet. He gave me an intense, sidelong glance. I just looked at him, blushed, and tried to shut off the radio, but I suddenly felt an orgasm violently taking over my body as I reached for the button. No use. The light turned green. Neither of us moved. I came. He watched. It was hot!
From Melissa’s miles and miles of masturbation, we now turn to our good friends Jane and Andrew. You will recall these newlyweds discovered their kinks on their honeymoon when it was revealed that Jane gets off to erotic stories (like Match, Cinder & Spark) and Andrew likes to wear women’s panties and takes delight in his wife locking his chastity cage while she mercilessly masturbates in front of him as a form of titillating torture.
This week they sent us a photo tryptic of sorts showing how they have fun. She hops in the tub, takes a long, relaxing bath, shaves her twat clean and smooth, and then cuddles up with a good book. In this case it happens to be Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts. When she is good and gushing, she invites in Andrew. He knows by now that during her sexy-time he is to be locked and loaded. She then reads aloud the passages that have her groin grinding. If he is lucky, she might fondle and cup his genitalia, but he is not allowed any greater gratification than that. Yet she is free to dive into her toy drawer and pull out all the necessary accessories for her maximal self-care. She indulges freely in the pleasures of the flesh while denying him the release he desires.
Jane and Andrew reading Match, Cinder & Spark
As she was reading the stories, she asked Andrew, “What would you think if I took many male lovers and had them fuck me in front of you?”
“Like Lola does?”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t know if I’d be able to prevent ejaculating, even in my cage.”
“How would you like it if our entire marriage you were never allowed to fuck me – only watch – as I was banged by so many men on a regular basis?”
“You would make me the happiest husband on the planet!”
“Then learned Leo was wrong – not all happy marriages are alike. Perhaps each happy marriage is happy in its own way.”
“I know ours is.”
For Your Entertainment
Our third story is from Nicci and her sister Malory.
[Abridged. The unabridged version you can find here.]
Just before the lockdown went into effect, Nicci had traveled from her hometown of Charlotte to visit her sister Malory in Tampa. Everything was going fine until the day the CDC announced that no one should be flying anywhere. That nixed Nicci’s return flight. As with everyone else, her job shut down and then went remote, as did Malory’s. The two of them were cooped up in Malory’s small, one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with only Malory’s black lab, Lucky, for company. This made for rather cramped living space. As Nicci tells it, the couch was too small for either of them to sleep on, so they bunked up in the bed. When either of them needed “self-care” time, one sister had to ask the other sister for some “personal space” to “take care of business.” On more than one occasion, stuck in bed together at night, one or the other would begin fapping. Two twenty-something women isolated from the rest of the world needed an escape from the ever more grim news inundating them each day.
But they weren’t the only ones in need of relief. Lucky was a rescue dog and by the time Malory had adopted him, he was too old to be neutered. He was “intact,” as they say. And, as such, he too needed to get off – on the couch, on the floor, on Nicci’s or Malory’s leg.
According to Nicci, one evening the two of them joined in a Zoom happy-hour with some mutual friends. Both of them had a couple of strong margaritas and after the happy-hour was over, they continued to drink and reminisce about high school days. Malory brought up one of their girlfriends about whom it was rumored that she had regular sex with her dog. Nicci denied the rumor as urban legend and they both shared a laugh about it. That led to Nicci asking Malory if she had ever seen the movie Sleeping Dogs Lie. “It’s a terrible romcom about a woman who. . .”
“No, don’t even!”
“I kid you not!”
“What kind of romcom is that?”
The two of them ended up watching it, or at least trying to. Nicci was right, it was terrible.
Sleeping Dogs Lie
“If I hear another accordion, it will be too soon!” said Malory.
“I know! That soundtrack was the worst. Like they were some French film or something. And it manages to be cringeworthy in every way and insult just about everyone.”
“Not to mention, the moral of the story – if you can call it that. It’s best to lie – to your spouse, family, coworkers, and friends.”
They loved hatewatching it. Nicci added, “And the entire premise of the film – that a lonely, single college woman would give a blowjob to her dog.”
“I know, right? I mean, it’s so unbelievable. If I was that lonely, I wouldn’t blow him, I’d have him fuck me.”
Suddenly Nicci stopped laughing and looked very seriously at her sister. “What? You wouldn’t, would you?”
Malory mysteriously said, “Who says I haven’t?”
“Come on! Stop joking. Really?”
“Ew!” screeched Malory, dramatically, “I take him out twice a day and clean up his shit after him. Are you kidding me? No.”
Sure enough, just as they were having this conversation, Lucky went at it again on the rug.
“Whew,” said Nikki, laughing nervously. “You had me worried for a minute.”
Malory laughed and, looking at Lucky, said, “If I had been fucking him, I don’t think he’d be doing that like three times a day.”
“You should have named him Horny, not Lucky,” said Nicci.
“Who are we kidding? We’re all fucking horny and none of us are going to get lucky anytime soon,” replied Malory.
That conversation and movie was enough to set the wheels in motion for both of them. Who knows, maybe Lucky had this arrangement in mind all the while and that’s why he was constantly causing friction on the carpet.
Before long. . . .
When Nicci would go out to do the grocery shopping or Malory would go for a run in the afternoon or morning, whomever was at home was busy with. . . .
But when Malory went out for a jog one afternoon only to have the sky open up and drench her in a downpour so that she returned to the apartment early, she found her sister dripping wet as well, but not from the weather. . . . Nicci looked up at Malory with a swirling combination of satisfaction, shame, and helplessness.
. . .
This cozy arrangement continued for about two or three months, until Nicci felt safe enough to return home. When that fateful day came, she and her sister made an unspoken pact never to so much as mention this intense ménage à trois again.
Nicci wrote to us to say, “Though we never, ever talk about what happened between the three of us in those early months of the pandemic, since then I have found (and shared with Mal) your blog. (You can guess what I was searching for.) I didn’t tell her why I was sharing it with her, but I’m sure she figured it out. Thank you for your honesty, candor, and sexiness!”
Sisters at the beach with Lucky
The (Not So) Secret Life of Lo the Nympho
Lo’s kungfu Grip
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
That wasn’t Lola firing off those five fucks in a row, that was me. Lo had just used her left hand, filled with moisturizing cream, to get me off in my pajama bottoms. This has become an almost nightly routine for us now. We get into bed – she naked, me in my pajama bottoms – and she says, “Do you want me to milk you Daddy?”
I almost always say yes.
On the rare occasions that I ask her if I can have her, to fuck her, you know, the old-fashioned way of intercourse, she usually just reaches down between my legs and squeezes her cream-filled hand around my hard rod. I am powerless to protest. She strokes to climax – always my climax – and then I fall off to sleep in my cum-filled pjs, too spent to change.
This nightly ritual has spurred me to purchase five or six more pajama bottoms in order that I have something to wear the next night.
What Lo does after my dissipated desire allows me to nod off is a mystery.
But recently I have gained a glimpse into that dark, hidden recess.
After hearing from Ginger and her transformation from housewife to hotwife, Lo became curious about the legalized brothels of Nevada. Apparently, she had been doing internet research on her own late at night.
Fit Ginger Hotwife
Fit Ginger Hotwife
“Daddy,” she said one day over breakfast, “it has been a long time since we went on a vacation.”
“True,” I said, sipping my coffee. “What do you have in mind?” I knew she was up to something nefarious.
“Well,” she began, looking off into the middle distance to conjure her vision like a fey dreamer, “in Nevada prostitution is legal.”
“With certain qualifications,” I said, being a cold, hard realist. Very hard.
Undeterred by my interruption, she continued, “And I’ve looked into it. They have special vacation, well, uh, sort of sex-tourism packages.”
Lola’s eye is always attracted to a big package. “I’m confused,” I said.
“Daddy, they issue a special license for tourists to prostitute themselves.”
“No – really?”
She nodded enthusiastically. Then she looked up at me with those pleading puppy eyes. “Please, Daddy.”
I’ll spare you all the details, but basically there are a lot of costs involved: licensing, STD testing, room rental, etc. It seemed to me very much like a day trip on a recreational fishing boat. There’s the cost of the boat, the fishing license, the taxes, etc. Built into the cost of the day excursion on the boat are all the hidden costs. We had to discover all the overhead ourselves for our sex-tourism jaunt.
Once all that was done, we flew to a remote part of Nevada. Setting up the clientele was easy, given our high-profile web presence. There was no shortage of johns eager for pay-to-play with Lo.
Other than suggesting the idea and knowing what our special vacation was for, Lo had no other insights into the details. She wanted it that way. In order to keep her both figuratively and literally in the dark, I arranged the flight to land at night. We drove through the veiled desert to the remote, rather dilapidated brothel. It looked more like a repurposed old motel. Lo and I found our room and, as she was exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep.
Early the next morning, only a few hours after we had arrived, I woke up to begin preparations for Lo’s stay. As Lo soundly slept in the buff on the king-sized bed, I collected all her clothes – every last garment. I put them in my suitcase and simultaneously unpacked the special outfits I had purchased for her, especially for this occasion. They consisted of thong panties, lace panties, satin bras, elaborate strappy one-piece lingerie, fishnet stockings, and the like. There was not one item of clothing left in the room that she could possibly wear outside. She was trapped by her own undergarments, imprisoned by G-strings and sheer mesh fabric. A fitting metaphor for the Veil of Maya in which we all find ourselves.
I then snuck out of the room with her suitcase. She had no idea, but I had rented the room adjacent to hers. The walls were paper thin, allowing me to be a clandestine interloper in her affairs. About nine that morning I got a text from Lo: “Where are you?”
“I had to go out. Your first appointment is at noon. Enjoy.”
“Out? Where to?”
“Running some errands for your vacation. His name is Peter. Call me if you need anything, I will be close by.”
“Daddy, breakfast,” she wrote, complaining.
“It’s being delivered.”
I had arranged for everything. The room service arrived, finding Lola naked in the hotel room. I suppose that sort of thing was not unusual, given the purpose of the establishment.
I returned to my adjacent room around ten after getting some greasy grits for myself and I heard Lo in her room. It sounded like she was showering and then masturbating. Then, repeat. I texted her, “Turn on the TV.”
I had arranged that I could cast from my computer to her TV. I put on one of her favorite shows: Playboy’s “Swing.”
“Oh, Daddy!” she texted back.
I could hear the muted sounds of the TV from her room.
Around noon her first customer, I mean john, that is to say, Peter came.
And boy did he cum!
I heard muted voices. Then I heard Lo saying, “Fill me! Fuck me! Stretch me! Cum in me!” That last bit was screamed so that it was exquisitely distinct through the wall.
I heard her repeating at the top of her lungs, as if an incantation or mantra: “I love cock! I love cock! I love cock! I love cock!!!”
There were a few moments of quiet and then I heard the door close. A few moments later Lo texted me, “First done and gone.”
“How was it.”
“Well, it’s only 12:20, so, I’d say pretty quick. When’s my next appointment?”
“Not until 1:00.”
“Can you come here, Daddy?”
“No, Lo. I’m out. Running errands.”
She sent a sad-face emoji.
I heard her fire up her Hitachi Magic Wand (which I had strategically left for her to find).
Screams. Silence. Screams.
A knock at the door.
John #2.
This time there was a lot of talk, but no climax. No yelling or screaming.
At exactly two o’clock I heard the door close.
“Two down,” texted Lo.
“How was it?”
“He just wanted me to stroke his cock while I looked into his eyes and talked to him.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Anything that came to mind. He just wanted me to talk. I tried to make sexy talk, but he preferred that I just say anything. I basically told him the history of Elizabethan Theater and the history of Shakespeare plays. That made him very hard and horny.”
“You’re kidding,” I texted back.
“Gotta go! Next customer.”
I heard the knock at the door even before she texted me.
This time she was loud and proud.
After a little less than an hour, I heard the door close.
“So many kinks,” she texted.
“What do you mean?”
“This one just wanted me to masturbate the entire time. You have no idea how tingly my pussy lips are. I had the Hitachi – thanks Daddy! – on my cunt for almost an hour!”
There was another knock at the door.
“Don’t I get a lunch break?!” she texted.
“No rest for the randy,” I texted back.
This time I heard what sounded like her being thrown against the wall in a rhythmic pattern. I was worried. I watched my phone like a hawk. I thought the two of them were going to pound right through the thin wall into my room.
After about twenty or thirty minutes of the constant banging, I heard nothing at all.
Ten minutes later I heard a man’s voice yelling, “Whore! Cunt! Fucking Slut!”
A few minutes later I heard the distinct purr of Lola.
Then the door shut again.
“Are you ok?” I texted her immediately. I was so concerned.
“Divine,” she wrote back.
“Please explain,” I responded, dryly.
“He was rough and violent and he said so many derogatory things to me. . . I loved it!”
“Really?”
There was another knock at the door.
This time, after a while of no sounds, or at least none that I could hear, I detected Lo’s quiet voice saying, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Then it stopped.
At ten to five, I got a text: “I’m starving, Daddy.”
I was too enraged and jealous – yes, jealous! – to respond.
At five sharp, there was another knock at the door.
This time I heard nearly nothing except the loud groan of a man’s voice.
At five-thirty the door shut.
“Well, at least I got a snack,” texted Lo.
“Ready for dinner?” I asked.
“I’m always ready, and hungry, and horny.”
I knocked at her door, even though I had the key. I was curious as to her reaction and I also thought it would be an ironic joke.
She answered the door the way I imagine she answered it for all the six other guys who had preceded me: wearing a black negligée that barely covered her ass and pussy. Nothing else. Her tits were practically falling out of it.
Lo, Dressed for Success
“You’re a welcome surprise,” she said. “I actually thought you had booked me straight through to midnight!”
“Would you like that?”
“I’m a hard worker and I work best when my customers are hard.”
“Well, good news – you and I are going to grab dinner together.”
“First, where? Second, I have no clothes, remember?”
I handed her a sleek black dress. She had panties and bras and high heels in the room already.
She put on the heels, not the bra or panties. She looked dressed more as if in a negligée than a party dress. Her nipples were visible through the thin, shiny material.
She looked good – dirty, dissolute, disheveled, devilish, and desirable.
“Don’t you want me, Daddy?” she asked as she hiked up her dress and spread her pussy lips to show me the cum dripping out. Whose cum? Could have been anyone’s.
“Later, Lo,” I said. “We’ve got reservations.” I almost chuckled to myself as I said it.
“Really?!” she asked, excited as if we were still in our metropolis and able to pick from a few hundred eating establishments.
We walked out into the cool, dry Nevada night.
“No car?” she asked as we walked in the dirt across the parking lot.
“Here we are,” I said after about fifty feet, when we got to the door of the dive bar and restaurant across from the brothel.
“Here?!” she moped.
“Lo, there ain’t another Michelin rated restaurant for at least a hundred miles from here.”
“I don’t need Michelin rated, but I do need edible.”
“Relax, this place is fine.”
“We walked in like two invitees to the Emmy’s, only to find a juke box greeted us, followed by a long, worn wooden bar, and tables with plastic picnic-table cloths covering them, pitchers of Miller Light upon them, and people wearing cowboy hats unironically dancing.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked as all the male eyes in the place magnetically rested upon her sweet, antipodinal angelic aura.
“Couldn’t be any more serious,” I said as the kind hostess showed us to our picnic-table.
We ordered the less-than-mediocre meal and a pitcher of their finest Miller beer.
“Daddy,” Lo inquired, “do I have a busy day tomorrow?”
“All booked up – ten to six.”
“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she said, almost admitting defeat.
“I believe in you, Lo. Did you not enjoy today?”
She was quiet for a few seconds. Pensive. “I enjoyed it well enough.”
“What’s that mean – ‘well enough’?”
“I was hoping to get fucked like a broken screen door in a hurricane. But only one guy was like that. Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “that was wonderful, but the other guys – they were kinda weird, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
The meal came and Lo started eating like she hadn’t seen food in a week, even though the food was far below her standards.
She never completed her thought.
“I have something special planned for you tomorrow,” I said.
Her eyes lit up. “Tell me!” She can’t stand a surprise.
“Nope. You’ll find out tomorrow.”
We finished our meal and ordered another pitcher of beer. We weren’t driving, so, why not?
After downing two pitchers, we felt oddly attracted to the silly country dancing that we had observed among a few of the regulars. We joined in. Lo’s black, strappy heels were a comical contrast to the other women’s cowboy boots. Lo’s sleek black dress also looked out of place among the other women in their jeans or denim shorts and plaid, button-down shirts. But the biggest contrast was that the other women were all at least ten years older and heavier than Lo, by far. They were like ranch hands. It was clear that they were all married and moms. Though the brothel shared a parking lot with this restaurant, it seemed as if the other prostitutes all went home to their husbands and families at the end of their shifts, or they went somewhere else, but they certainly were not grabbing dinner here. I’m not saying any of that in a disparaging way, just pointing out the ways in which Lo stood out like a rosebush among the cacti.
And I wasn’t the only one to notice the difference. The men in the place looked over their wives’ shoulders as they danced with them, staring at Lo. The wives, for their part, gave Lo the meanest of looks, judging her and silently despising her. They knew where she had been all day and where she’d be all night. These good Christian women, with God, guns, and glory on their side, stood in judgment of Lo’s heretical goddess, gams, and gloryhole.
Perhaps mistakenly, we ordered another pitcher of beer to quench the thirst we developed while dancing. Soon Lo was dancing in the arms of many of the different men at the bar, letting them feel her nipples over the sheer material of the dress, slide their hands down over the curve of her rear, and partially up her thigh. I could tell Lo had a long day and was getting too tipsy to tear up the dance floor and so I politely cut in and escorted her back to her room where she had worked the day as an escort.
Samantha Massie reading Match, Cinder & Spark
Country Girls with Samantha Massie
Reverse View of Samantha Massie and friends
Samantha Massie and her besties
Samantha Massie and friends
One more of Samantha Massie’s behind
Back in the room, Lo quickly slipped out of her dress and into a slip, pulled out her Hitachi and her phone and began going at it on the couch as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth. By the time I returned to where she had been stimulating her stretched and sore pussy, I found her, motor of the Hitachi still vibrating, her phone still open to the photos she was using to get off – pics of her friend Samantha Massie and her crew of country MILFs. I had been in the bathroom for maybe three, four minutes max! But by the time I came to the couch beside the bed – the same bed upon which she had prostituted her body – she was sound asleep with her breasts hanging out of her slip.
Lo, Sleeping with her Best Friend
The next morning I woke up early. I snuck out with her dress.
“Daddy, where are you?” she texted.
“Errands,” I responded.
“What could you possibly have to do?”
“I guess not you.”
“What?”
“You fell asleep on me last night, leaving me hard up.”
“Sorry.”
“Should I find a prostitute?”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Can you fit me into your busy schedule?”
“I’m very flexible – I could probably fit you and a couple more guys in.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Time to find out how much more of this I can take. Where’s my breakfast?”
“It should be there any minute now.”
“Well, my john is here now.”
There was another knock at the door.
“Oh, never mind. Breakfast arrived,” she texted.
About twenty minutes and a few howls later, I heard the door close.
“How’s breakfast?” I asked.
“He fucked me as I ate it. He said it was a real turn-on for him.”
“Full, or still hungry?” I texted back.
“I can always take a little more,” she wrote.
I heard the bath running.
I heard a knock at the door.
I heard Lo open it and talk to the customer.
About twenty minutes later I received a text. “He jacked off to me as I took a bath. That was easy!”
There was another knock.
Lo texted, “Daddy, they’re arriving every half hour.”
“That’s your surprise. Today is economy class. They only paid for thirty minutes. Later they will be arriving every fifteen minutes.”
“What?!” She included a number of emojis to demonstrate her displeasure with that.
There were three more visitors to her room before lunch.
“Will you join me for lunch?” she texted.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
I knocked at the door. She opened it wearing only a transparent and skimpy negligée through which I could see everything.
Lo, Falling Out
“You said you could fit me in.”
“That was before you told me my schedule. I’m full up.”
“I hope not. You have ten more appointments today.”
“Ten?!”
I finally walked in the door. Lunch was delivered. A sandwich, fries, and a lemonade. I watched her eat as I observed the room. It was a mess. The bed was a mess and looked well-used. Various undergarments were strewn around the room. Used condoms were hanging over the side of the trashcan and were in it as well.
“How’s work?” I inquired.
She spread her legs for me to see the commingled cum of various men dribble out of her.
“It’s a complicated business,” she said in between bites, “a lotta ins, a lotta outs. You know.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Everything tastes like cum,” she said as she put down her sandwich and took a sip of her drink.
“Your favorite flavor.”
“Do I have cum in my hair?” she asked.
I looked. “A little.”
“The last guy was all about cumming on my face.”
“Bad aim?”
“No. For the most part, he hit the target.”
“Any other standout performances?”
“One of the guys, I forget which one, wanted to use my ass.”
She knows exactly how jealous that makes me.
“Did you let him.”
“He paid for hit, didn’t he?”
“I suppose.”
“He went ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-mouth.”
“Covered all the bases.”
“Then he repeated it.”
“All in a half-hour’s time?”
“He made the rounds quickly.”
“Where did he finally arrive?”
“Ass, then mouth.”
“Well, you’ll have to speed up the spin cycle because all the rest of today’s engagements are only a quarter-hour.”
“Don’t you worry. Just as I can make you cum in under five minutes, I will give each of them their money’s worth.”
“Your talent never ceases to amaze me!”
I left and returned to my post. As I was outside, I saw the next customer pull up. A middle-aged man with a wedding band on his left ring finger.
I slipped in the door to my hotel room as he knocked on Lola’s door.
Soon I could hear him knocking on Lola’s back door too!
He was gone quickly.
A new customer came in and exited in under fifteen minutes. Lola texted me, “I had to pee when the last one arrived. I told him so. He asked to watch. He stroked it as I was on the toilet and then came on my face as I continued sitting, fingering my clit in front of him. It was hot!”
Cleanup
Ready!
Another customer. Lo texted me after that this one had a foot fetish and came on her toes.
There were many more before her last appointment for the night. The last one had paid for two hours and had a very particular fetish. It was a husband and wife and they wanted Lo to dress up as a bride in white lingerie: mesh lace pushup bra, matching thong panties, harness suspender belt connected to white garters and of course a tiara with flowing lace veil. I had packed all this for Lola with a note on it that said, “Finale.” Now she understood what I meant by that.
They were into roleplay. The husband and wife team told Lo that the scenario is that they are her parents on her wedding night and they are going to teach her how it’s done.
“You want to be sexy for your groom,” she said to Lo.
“OK, Mom, tell me how,” replied Lo.
“I’ll show you instead,” she said as she got naked and bent over the bed. “Put your ass in the air like this.”
Lo stood next to her as if her magic mirror. Gazing into the looking glass, the older woman beheld the younger.
Her husband approached her from behind and mounted her.
“Make sure you’re good and wet,” she instructed.
“Oh, Mom, I’m always wet.”
“He’ll enter you like so,” she said as she moaned.
“Is he big?” asked Lo.
“Try for yourself,” she said.
“Lola, spread your pussy for me,” he said to her.
Lola did as told, very dutifully.
He entered her.
“That’s it, honey,” said her ersatz mother as she grabbed Lo’s ass cheeks and spread them for her husband to penetrate her. Then she got in front of Lo and began smacking at Lo’s tits as they hung down and undulated forward with each thrust from behind.
“Mom,” said Lo, “that hurts!”
“Does it?” she asked, pausing from pawing Lo’s breasts.
“I didn’t say stop,” said Lo.
The wife resumed slapping Lo’s tits, gently at first but gradually with more force as her husband also grew more forceful from behind.
“I think you have done this before,” said the wife.
“Once or twice. Why? Am I good at it?”
“So good,” said the husband.
“Are you going to cum?” asked his wife.
“Fuck, yes! I am.”
“Cum on my tits!” said his wife. “And let me taste you after,” she added, opening her mouth wide.
He pulled out of Lo and came right on his wife’s breasts as she held them together tightly. Then he put his cock in her mouth for her to taste Lo’s juices.
“Lick me clean,” she instructed Lo.
Lo didn’t need to be told twice.
“That’s it. You’ll make a good wife to your groom. But, darling, I’m going to have to instruct him how to properly fuck you. You don’t mind, do you?” asked the older woman.
“No, Mom. He’s been hoping to be schooled by you.”
“Good. I hope he’s longer and thicker than your father over there,” she said, nodding at the sated man in the chair.
“He is, by far!”
The couple eventually cleaned up and left, each of them kissing Lo goodbye first.
I then returned to my love and got the full story from her as she made passionate love to me, calling out numerous times, “Daddy, am I a bad girl? Am I a slut? Am I a proper, passionate, pliable little prostitute?”
“Yes, dear,” I said, “you’re a good whore, but more than anything else, you’re my whore.”
She liked that. She liked that very much.
On the plane home, Lo turned to me and whispered, “Thank you Daddy, that was the most wonderful birthday present ever.”
“Birthday present? – it was your Valentine’s Day gift.”
“So I still have a birthday present coming to me?”
“You sure do!”
Her eyes lit up. “When we get back?”
“If you’re a good girl,” I said, patronizingly.
She held my hand. There was a silence during which I knew exactly what she was thinking.
Three, two. . .
“What is it?” she asked, right on queue.
“That would spoil the surprise.”
“But Daddy, I can’t wait. Give me a hint.”
“No hints.”
She looked disappointed and then put her finger to her lips and furrowing her brow as if she were in deep thought.
“Now Lola,” I said, “if you do that, you’ll give yourself wrinkles prematurely.”
She looked at me, surprised.
“Do you think I’m getting wrinkles?” she asked in a panic, putting her hands to her forehead to smooth her skin.
“No,” I laughed, “no I don’t.”
“When do you think I’ll get wrinkles? Do you think I’ll go grey? You think my boobs will sag?”
“You realize, Lo, you’re ageist.”
“Ageist? Me? Impossible. I’m dating you and you’re ancient!”
“You see. There you go again.”
“Oh, come on,” she said.
“Well, thank God you don’t age.”
“No, I don’t, do I?”
“Not a day over twenty-four.”
“But I will be soon,” she said with fright.
“No you won’t.”
“What?”
“How old were you last year?” I asked.
“Twenty-four,” she said as if it were an obvious question.
“And how old did you turn the year before that?”
“Twenty-three. Duh.”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“You turned twenty-four.”
“I think you failed math. Twenty-three comes before twenty-four.”
“How old will you turn this year?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Nope.”
“We are in a plane, but are you high? How ‘nope’?”
“Because, my dear, I am the author of this here story. You have been twenty-four since we started this account of our sex lives together.”
She looked at me like I was crazy.
“OK,” I said, “how old am I?”
“That’s easy,” she said, looking a little nervous.
“Then tell me.”
“You’re fifty-something.”
“Fifty what?”
“Fifty-er-uh-something.”
“I had a birthday last year. Remember?”
“Of course I do! I got you a private stripper. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” I said, dreamily.
She teasingly punched me, “Hey, I’m over here,” she said.
“And how old did I turn last year?”
“Fifty. . . one?”
“Nope.”
“Two?”
“Nope.”
“How old?”
“Fifty-something, exactly.”
“That’s silly.”
“I have always been fifty-something and you have always been twenty-four. I will always be fifty-something and you will forever remain twenty-four.”
“Forever?”
I nodded affirmatively. “Forever.”
She thought about it for a while before finally asking, “But I still get a birthday present?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then I’m ok with that.”
Lo Exhausted
“J.O.I. de Vivre”
Uh Oh, someone got busted looking at Lo’s tits while working from home!
For those few of you who might not know, “J.O.I.” stands for “Jerk Off Instructions.” It’s a rather popular form of porn that has been part of intimate bedroom play for as long as there have been masturbators and those who love to instruct them. Lola has engaged in this special type of kink for a long time now – telling her friends and fans exactly how she wants them to cum to her, remotely or in person. During the COVID lockdown, this became one of her favorite ways of getting herself off safely.
You also may recall our newlywed couple, Jane and Andrew, who discovered each other’s kinks on their wedding night. Turns out Jane’s kink was reading Match, Cinder & Spark while denying Andrew and Andrew’s kink was wearing women’s lingerie while being denied by his bride.
I’m happy to report that they found a way for them both to get off, using the tertium quid of Lola.
“Lola, Andrew has two work-from-home days next week. Please tell us instructions for his torment,” wrote Jane.
“When he works from home, is he on Zoom?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, he should only be dressed from his waist up. You should hang my photos all over the house. Whenever he gets up – to get a coffee, to eat lunch – and walks past my photo, he must stroke until he is good and hard. But he may not cum. Take photos of it.”
“Excellent. And on the second day?”
“On the second day, same, but at the end of the day you will stroke his hard cock to my photos and this time he is allowed to cum, but only by means of your touch.”
“Thank you, Lola! You have no idea what this means to us!!!”
Lola sent them select photos for them to print out and frame. Here are the results.
You should try this at home too and send Lo the results!
Consolation Prize
[Continued from Wing-Woman Wardrobe]
“What bar are you going to?” I asked Lo about her date with Jeremy. To clarify, she was going to be his “wing-woman,” helping him to find a suitable companion in the aftermath of his recent divorce.
“What’s it to you?” she asked, indignantly as she sat in front of the mirror, nude, putting on her eyeliner.
“Well, you don’t have to be rude about it. Am I being invasive if I would like to know where the love of my life is taking one of my good friends for drinks and to hook-up?”
“To be clear, yet again, I’m not the one who will be hooking-up with Jeremy.”
“Yes, I know that, but after your little performance trying to convince him to let you be his wing-woman, I have my doubts about whom Jeremy will be going home with tonight. I imagine you won’t let him go home alone.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“So, where are you going with him?”
“I don’t think I’ll tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll probably show up there and spy on us all night.”
“Am I really that transparent?”
“Mr. Cellophane.”
“So what? I’ll stay out of sight.”
“No you won’t.”
“I will. Promise. Please.”
“Fine, but only because I get turned on by you seeing me in action.”
“And I get turned on by seeing you in action.”
“I know that. That’s what turns me on.”
“Glad we clarified that. So, where are you taking him?”
Lola told me the name of a trendy club downtown.
“You’re not actually taking him there, are you?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“It’s so loud with that house music and the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.”
“You’re just old.”
“How can anyone talk with that blaring?”
“Darling, they don’t have to talk. They’re interested in the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM,” she said as she got up and pretended to be fucking me, slamming her hips into my ass with each “boom.”
“Suit yourself, but I know Jeremy won’t like it.”
We discussed it some more and agreed upon a less loud bar that we’d been to before.
Lo dolled herself up, threw on black lace thong panties, a short black skirt, and a transparent white blouse. She wore some sparkly costume jewelry and cute heels. I wished I was the one going out with her, but realized that I’ll have just as good a time watching her from a distance.
Lo Getting Ready for her Date
The doorbell rang and Jeremy was nervously waiting at the door like a kid picking up his prom date.
I let him in.
“All set for your debut?”
“You can joke, but this is nerve wracking.”
“Come on in. Have a drink or two and calm yourself down. Lola’s just finishing up.”
Jeremy came into the living room and I asked him what stiff drink he’d like. Whiskey, one ice cube. Easy enough for any bartender.
As I was pouring my 13-year-old scotch, Lola’s resounding voice could be heard billowing from the bedroom. She was at it again. It’s one of her favorite parlor tricks for our guests.
I walked into the living room with two drinks in hand. As I passed Jeremy his, he looked up at me with a grave face of concern. “Is she ok?” he asked.
“Lola?” I replied with a calming smile. “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s just getting the lead out.”
“She’s what?”
“Taking care of business.”
He was still perplexed.
“She’s masturbating until she’s silly,” I finally blurted out.
“Come on,” he replied in disbelief.
“Go see for yourself. I’m sure she’d like that.”
Her howls were still the background to our conversation. But they were taking shape now into her usual masturbatory mantra of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
“And that should about do it,” I said to Jeremy. “She’ll be out presently.”
About forty-five seconds later a flush Lola emerged into the living room, kissing Jeremy on the cheek.
“Hi, Lola,” he said rather embarrassed.
“Mind if I join you boys?” she asked, fixing herself a flute of champagne.
She sat in a chair next to Jeremy and very daintily placed one leg over the other as she drank. I could see Jeremy admiring her sexy gams. I wondered to myself if she crossed her legs because she was afraid she’d squirt if she didn’t.
We made some small talk until they both finished their drinks and then Lo gave me a little peck on the cheek and said, “Be good,” to me.
“Well, that’s no fun.”
She whispered, “And stay out of sight.”
That was her permission for me to show up at the bar to see her performance.
“Good luck,” I said to Jeremy.
“He won’t need luck,” interjected Lo, “He’s got me.”
I saw them get into his car and take off.
I quickly got myself dressed appropriately for a night out and sped off myself.
I heard from Lo after the fact that, on the way to the club, the following conversation took place:
Lola: You want me to jack you off?
Jeremy: What?
Lola: Jack you off. You’re a bundle of nerves right now. You need to relax.
Jeremy: Here, in the car, while I’m driving?
Lola: Yeah. You never had road-head before?
Jeremy: Road-head?
Lola: Yeah, pull out your cock and I’ll blow you.
Jeremy: I think I’d crash.
Lola: Keep your eyes on the road.
Jeremy: I’ll pass. It might make a mess.
Lola: Suit yourself.
Jeremy: Can I ask you a personal question?
Lola: Anything. I love personal questions.
Jeremy: HH said that you were, uh, masturbating back at the house.
Lola: Yeah.
Jeremy: Is that true?
Lola: I wasn’t singing in the shower. Didn’t your ex masturbate?
Jeremy: Not that I know of.
Lola: Oh honey, no wonder she ran off with the plumber.
Jeremy: What do you mean by that?
Lola: She was so repressed. She needed someone to unclog her pipe, if you know what I mean.
Jeremy: We had some regular sex.
Lola: Regular is boring. Rough, ram-rod, raw-dog is what she needs. Did she ever climax?
Jeremy: I don’t know.
Lola: Then that’s a no.
Jeremy: I grew up in a different era.
Lola: But women needed then what they need now. Promise me that if you start dating again, you’ll come to me.
Jeremy: Come to you?
Lola: Yeah, for advice.
Jeremy: Oh.
Lola: What did you think I meant?
Jeremy: Nothing.
Lola: You thought I meant ‘cum to me,’ didn’t you?
Jeremy: Well, is that what you meant?
Lola: I wouldn’t be offended.
Road Head
They got to the bar. Jeremy was hard under his pressed khaki pants. Lola had teased him so. But that was quickly replaced by nervousness and fear. He hadn’t done something like this in over twenty years. This wasn’t one of those super-trendy bars with the red velvet rope, the long line outside, the bouncer turning anyone away whom he thought didn’t add cache to the joint. No, this was a regular bar in a desirable neighborhood that had a commanding view of our city. The drinks weren’t cheap and the food was served on small plates. The clientele had to be of a certain economic strata in order to afford it. And that was Lola’s fatal flaw in her design for this evening. Instead of taking Jeremy to some dive joint popular with the college age crowd, she took him to something that she knew would be upscale. But, as a result, it meant that the only single women in the place were in their forties. Maybe there were a few in their thirties. But all the twenty-something women were on the arms of older men who could afford to treat their dates to a special evening.
I’m not judging or stereotyping. I’m just describing what I saw. Lo knows that she and I are frequently one of those December/May couples in an establishment like this.
Despite the fact that I had left the house after Jeremy and Lo, I arrived first. My knowledge of the city streets is better than Jeremy’s navigation system. I was inconspicuously hidden in a dark corner at a table for one. I saw Lola confidently enter with Jeremy and I saw as she scanned the room for the optimal place to occupy with him for greatest effect and maximum visibility. They took a spot at the center of the bar. Lo ordered a fancy cocktail and Jeremy ordered a beer. They were talking as if they were colleagues at work. Lo was running her hand through her thick hair, smiling, and gently touching Jeremy’s elbow as she laughed.
At the club
I could see guys at the bar taking note of Lola. More than one of them tried to chat her up, but she shut them down quick.
Jeremy looked stiff as a board, and not in a good way. After a couple more drinks, they both were loosened up a bit. So was the crowd. More people filed into the already cramped bar area and eventually two women who were trying to order drinks near Lo and Jeremy struck up a conversation with them. I couldn’t hear it, of course, but I later got the gist of it from Lola.
It turned out these two women were both in their forties and both newly divorced and trying to break into the dating scene. Lo elicited all the information from them while masterfully directing their attention to Jeremy and attempting to remove herself from the equation by explaining that they are just friends. But Lo overplayed her hand. In order to fully dispel any doubt of her own intentions vis-à-vis Jeremy, Lo said she’s not into guys.
Oh boy, the eyes of the two women lit up! Their conversation became animated. They started regaling Lo with stories about flirting or kissing girls in college, always wanting to try it more, being married and confined by the marriage, and now, ready to explore new possibilities.
The two women were already quite intoxicated when they began talking with Lo and Jeremy. Their inhibitions were down and their arousal at this young, fresh meat high. They complimented and flirted with Lo, leaving Jeremy to watch dumbly.
Lo, for her part, cannot turn away from the attention. And so, after a few paltry attempts to direct their interest toward Jeremy, Lo gave in. Soon she was making out with one and then the other of the women, exchanging numbers, and, eventually, walking out with Jeremy.
On the ride home, Lo felt truly bad for her behavior.
Lola: I’m sorry about that.
Jeremy: About what?
Lola: The two women. We came out for you, not me.
Jeremy: That’s ok. I found it entertaining.
Lola: You like lesbians?
Jeremy: Who doesn’t?
Lola: You jack off to girl-on-girl porn?
Jeremy: [Uncomfortable.] Um, er, I have.
Lola: Are you hard now?
Jeremy: I’m driving.
Lola: I see that. You can drive and be hard.
Jeremy: I’m. . .
Lola: [Feeling his crotch.] Mmmm, you are hard.
Jeremy: There’s something about your voice.
Lola: That everything I say is dirty and depraved?
Jeremy: [Laughing.]
Lola: [Putting her right hand between her legs.] Did you want to see me with those two women?
Jeremy: I wouldn’t have objected.
Lola: Did your wife look at porn?
Jeremy: Ex-wife.
Lola: Did your ex-wife look at porn?
Jeremy: I told you, I don’t think so.
Lola: When you had sex, would she put her finger down on her clit and stroke it?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she pull her pussy lips wide and stretch them out until it hurt?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she curl her index finger up and inside her and finger herself when your cock was filling her up?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she get so fucking wet that she could slide her entire hand inside and grab your cock while you fucked her?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she beg you for another man to fuck her at the same time as you?
Jeremy: Never.
Lola: [Pulling out his dick.] You’re so hard right now. That whole time at the bar must have made you so full-up. Do you have blue-balls?
Jeremy: Uh.
Piss Slut
Just then they pulled up to the house. Again, I was home before they and I pretended that I had never even left. I was sitting on the couch. I saw the car headlights outside. Inside the car, Lola was climaxing. She held Jeremy’s hand as she pressed her knees together tightly. She squeezed Jeremy’s hand so firmly that he cried out. Lo bit her lower lip. When she finally relaxed, she turned to him and said, “I’m sorry for hurting you. I was trying to hold it in.”
“Hold what in?”
“My squirt.”
“Squirt?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want to leave a puddle on your seat.” There was a long pause before Lo, realizing that Jeremy was thinking about leaving, said, “You can stay a while. It’s a two-car garage, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I should go.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just go home.”
“And masturbate?”
Jeremy looked baffled at Lola.
“You can say it,” she coaxed gently.
“I might.”
“Why don’t you let me do it for you,” she said rather than asked. She began to jerk his cock as he was in park. Her mouth was very near to the tip of his cock. She looked up at him. “Do you wish you could have seen those two women hungrily and greedily fondling my naked body? What do you think? They each had two or three kids. What do you think it would be like? Them, with their sagging breasts, jealously pawing at my perky tits. Sucking them. Telling me to suck theirs. One of them holding my ankles up in the air as the other buries her face in my bush. Each of them telling the other to use me, to finger me, to fist me. Maybe they had their own strap-ons and they wanted to take turns fucking me. Maybe one wanted to fuck my cunt as the other fucked my ass. What do you think? How do you think I would like that?”
“I, I, I think you’d love that.”
Lola stroked faster.
“I totally would. I’d like them to put a collar and leash on me and lead me around the house naked like a dog. They could bring me to the bathroom and piss on me – in my hair, on my face, on my tits. They could sit on the side of the tub and masturbate until they squirt on my body. They’d call me their slut, their whore, their bitch. They’d pull at my nipples and spank my ass. One of them would hold my legs back as the other spanked my pussy. They’d punish me for being young and beautiful. They’d take out all their frustration on me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Suddenly there was a massive ejaculation that shot from the tip of Jeremy’s cock to Lola’s face. It wouldn’t stop spurting hot white cum all over her face. It was as if he hadn’t cum for years! Lola loved it! He called out and moaned and pounded the ceiling of his car with his fist.
Finally, when he had calmed down, Lo sat back, her faced covered, her hair covered, her neck covered and dripping down her cleavage, and she said, “The icing on the cake! HH will love this!”
“Oh shit,” said Jeremy, “HH.”
Lo laughed. She repeated, “HH will love this. Don’t worry.”
“You two have one strange relationship.”
“Not so strange. You’ll see. The world has changed a lot since you were single.”
“Well, Lola, thanks for a good night.”
“Sorry I had to be your consolation prize.”
“To be honest, you’re the one I wanted the most.”
“You’re so sweet!” said Lo as she leaned in and kissed Jeremy a long, open mouthed kiss, getting his own warm cum all over him.
“Good night,” she said as she hopped out of the car and walked in to greet me, the evidence of her evening covering her like a pearlescent halo that had melted.
“Hello Lo,” I said as she walked in.
She approached me and kissed me just as she had kissed Jeremy and then she dragged me to the bedroom to fuck her as she recounted for me every detail of the date, asking me, “Daddy, am I a slut? Am I a total whore? Am I bad? Look at me, covered in another man’s cum. Punish me.” And through her mental masochism, she managed to bring herself to orgasm multiple times.
The cum on
Lola’s Warm Welcome
Pachu M. Torres illustration
Hind Hunting
“Daddy, have me.”
“Get naked.”
“I’m naked, Daddy. Have me.”
“Come here.”
She nuzzles up to me, putting her head and soft hair on my shoulder. Her right hand reaches down for my hard cock. She moves her head down toward it. She opens her mouth and takes it in – wet, warm, soft, and loving.
She maneuvers to climb on top of me, straddle me, ride me.
“Hey, what’s the hurry?”
“I want it.”
“We got all night.”
“I want it in me, now.”
“Can’t we enjoy each other first? A little stroll through the Garden of Good and Evil before going in for the kill?”
“Daddy,” she says as she lowers herself on my rod, “it needs it. My pussy needs it. My cunt needs to be filled. I’m sorry. Play with my titties,” she says as she bounces up and down.
I reach up and grab her breasts with both hands.
“Pull my nipples.”
I pull on them.
“Pinch them. Pull them harder. Make it hurt.”
I do as I am told.
“Pull them. Really pull them. Pull them down. Make them sag. Pull my nipples to my navel.”
I do as she says. She moans a moan of pain and delight.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” she says after mere seconds.
“Lo, what were you looking at on your computer before coming to bed?”
She bites her bottom lip. She’s not able to reply. Her pussy squeezes me out and squirts like an overripe peach on the first bite.
Her fingers clutch my shoulders. She lifts up her ass in the air. She slides down my torso with her tongue out, licking up all she spilled on me in her exuberance.
She gets to my navel. She pauses. She falls asleep.
I push her gently onto the bed, sliding her off my still rock-hard cock.
“Lo,” I say, quietly, “Lo, I want you.”
From her dreamlike state she says, “Do whatever you want.” She’s off to Never-Never Land.
I pull out a German porno mag from my nightstand drawer. I open it up on her ass. I compare her to Gili Sky, the porn star of the magazine’s centerfold. I prefer Lola. But the juxtaposition is nice. I know Lola would prefer Gili and the three men Gili is with as well.
I try to jack it to the photos and Lo’s ass. Lo’s ass looks too good to pass up. I rub some lube on the tip and her target, take aim, and swoosh! Direct hit.
Driving home the happy hunter, I lie down on her back and open the magazine and begin leafing through the pages, reading what I can in German. It’s been a while. Lo is motionless, soundless. The lack of her longing for my donging diminishes my fervor. I pull out. As I do so, she says, almost from the depths of her depraved dream, “Al wanted some new photos. Take some of me, Daddy.”
I’ve never seen a woman so eager for the camera and yet, so very very relaxed in front of it.
Lola and Gili Sky
I replace the book on her rear and snap a few for her long-distance lover. Now I know what she was doing before coming to bed in a feeding frenzy.
Gili Sky Front, Lola Rear
The next day she wakes up chipper as can be.
“Sleep well, Darling?” I ask.
“Great! You?”
“I wish I could say I slept hard. But it’s more like I hardly slept because I was hard.”
“Awww, poor baby. Didn’t you have me?”
“It’s not worth going into,” I say. “You’ll read all about it anyway.”
“I hope so!”
“What’s for breakfast?” she asks, pulling at her nipples over the thin t-shirt she’s wearing. “Wow! My nips really hurt! Kiss them better, Daddy.”
Lo in Lace
She lifts up her shirt and forces her breasts in my face. I give them gentle kisses.
“Mmmmm,” she moans. “Can I have you for breakfast?”
She drops to her knees in the middle of the kitchen, pulls down my pajama bottoms, and goes to town on my torpedo.
After she slurps down her morning smoothy, she gets up, wipes her mouth, and says, “Looks like a no pants, no panties, pussy party day at work for me!”
Deferred Desire
Jane and Andrew
Jane and Andrew had just taken their wedding vows. They celebrated with their friends and family. They were both in their forties when they finally tied the knot. After many failed relationships in the past for each of them, they were pleased to finally find each other. They prided themselves on the fact that the cornerstone of their relationship was honesty. They loved each other, they admired each other, and they desired each other.
But in the hotel on the night of their wedding, they discovered something about each other neither of them expected.
Andrew was eager to get Jane out of her white gown and get into her wet pussy. Jane, you see, had been deferring the consummation of their love saying that, though not religious, she wished to wait until they were married before engaging in coitus. Now that the fateful night had come, Andrew’s desire for his bride had reached its pinnacle.
He slowly unzipped the back of the dress and helped Jane out of it with care. She wore a white satin bra, white panties, and lacey white thigh-high nylon stockings. Nearly naked, she sat on the couch and pulled Andrew towards her. He had already removed his tuxedo jacket, tie, and shirt. As he stood in front of Jane, he removed his t-shirt. She had already seen him topless before, but the smoothness of his chest, which lacked any hair, struck her as unusually feminine. But then she unbuttoned the button on his tuxedo slacks and unzipped the fly, pulling the pants down past his pelvis. She was shocked at what she saw!
Instead of boxers or tighty-whities, he was wearing a transparent, satin black thong! His cock was pressed up against the see-through material, barely contained by the tiny triangular fabric, stretching it to almost the breaking point.
“Oh wow!” she said as her face was inches away from the contained cock. She had never seen him nude before. “Are these yours?”
“Whose else would they be?”
“Mine,” she said.
He laughed and said, “No, I didn’t sneak into your panty drawer.”
“So you went to the store to buy these special?”
“These and a lot more like them.”
“I see.”
She slid the pants all the way down to his ankles, revealing a second surprise. He wasn’t wearing black socks, as she assumed. He was wearing sheer lacey black thigh-high nylon stockings, almost identical to hers. In their nylons, they were like yin and yang.
“Well, well, well,” she said, “what is this all about?”
“Do you like?” he asked her nervously.
“I do. Just about anything kinky gets me wet,” she said seductively.
He was thrilled. He had taken a real chance by dressing up like this under his wedding tux, but he had to know how she’d feel about his kinks. All was going to plan. He had suspected it would, but out of fear of rejection, ridicule, or even worse, indifference, he had not revealed this side of himself to her ever before.
“Shall you be Mistress’s little Sub-Boy?”
This question from her took him aback. He had not thought this far along in the chess game.
“I am Mistress’s little Sub,” he said, furtively, fearful of the wrong answer.
“Go fetch Mistress’s bag,” she said to him. He brought to her the large weekender bag she had in addition to her suitcase.
She reached in. He had no idea what was next. Out of the bag she pulled a paperback book – Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts. It had a drawing of a woman in tight blue shorts, bent over on the cover.
“Mistress likes to read,” she said. “Make Mistress an ottoman so Mistress can put her feet up.”
He complied by getting on his knees on the floor and turning himself into a stool for her feet. She sat in the comfortable chair and read while he dutifully demeaned himself to her will. However, time went by and he began to wonder if any relief to the raging erection he had at the mere touch of her silken-clad feet was to come.
“Mistress,” he whimpered.
“Yes little Sub?”
“May I please smell your pussy?”
“Yes little Sub.”
She spread her legs and allowed him a good whiff of her cunt through her white satin panties.
“Mistress,” he asked again.
“Yes little Sub?”
“May I please kiss your ass?”
“Yes little Sub,” she said, turning over in her chair.
He kissed her ass.
“That is all,” she insisted, putting an end to his probing tongue. “Mistress wishes to recline on the couch,” she added. “Stand by me, little Sub, and allow me to amuse myself with your member while I continue reading my book.”
“Yes, Mistress,” replied Andrew, standing at attention, allowing himself to be used and fondled as plaything of her whim.
“Little Sub,” she said eventually.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Lick my clit.”
“Mistress?” he asked, taken aback by the request.
“You heard me. Get on your knees and lick my clit as I read. I have come to a particularly puissant passage and I wish to be stimulated orally.”
She spread her legs and allowed him to pull her panties to the side far enough for his mouth to make contact. All the while she kept reading her book.
He got down between his mistress’s legs and began to lick politely, respectfully.
“Fuck my cunt with your tongue, damn it! Make me cum. Now!” she demanded.
He licked, sucked, flicked, and fucked her orally as best he could.
“Yes, that’s it – make your mistress moan!”
She came, and her cunt drizzled its joyful juices on the white leather couch causing a puddle under her ass.
“Mistress?” he asked once he had emerged from her love-spot.
“Yes little Sub?” she asked breathily.
“Will we ever consummate our love?”
“Little Sub, you have that long protrusion in your panties and I think that as punishment for that, you shall never be able to use it.”
Andrew’s erection grew powerfully in his panties as he contemplated the thought of ever desiring his wife, never satisfying her, never releasing his pent-up phallic powers.
She got up to pee and while she did, Andrew grabbed the book that was lying open to the page Jane had been reading. It was a story called “Pound” and it had some very taboo imagery in it.
“What are you doing?” Jane demanded when she returned.
“Uh, um, reading Mistress.”
“Without permission?”
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
She got on the couch across from him and used her feet to tease his cock as he read.
“Is this the story that brought you to an orgasm?” he asked.
“And if it is?” she replied superciliously.
“Well, then I suppose there are more kinks about you that I have yet to discover.”
“Isn’t that what love is all about – the slow reveal of each other’s depravity?”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“You would if you read more about H.H. and Lola.”
“Am I allowed to cum to her, or them?”
“Absolutely not!”
“But you are?” he asked.
“Mistress’s needs are not for you. Mistress keeps her cunt off limits. All her erotic experience is in the mind, in words, in the denial of the dissipation of your desire. I shall keep you around as my obedient canine. You shall obey your Mistress and never give in to the aching needs between your hind quarters. You shall ever remain in a state of perpetual penile priapism.”
Andrew could not have found a better match for his masochistic longings for a sadistic matriarch to marry.
Cycle Through the Park
Brooklyn is a great place to go! So many lovely sights to see, especially in the springtime!
Pachu M Torres