Honey Dripper Double Dipper

Posted on March 21, 2020 by Lola Down

Lola had told me that she would be going out to dinner with friends that Monday night. Knowing no one was waiting for me at home, I stayed late at work.

“Good night Mr. H.,” said my secretary.

“Good night Ms. Gale,” I responded without looking up from my desk.

I could feel her standing in the doorway to my office looking at me.

“Yes, Ms. Gale?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. H., but do we have so much to do? I thought we were on top of our cases. Would you like me to do something for you?” she asked, playing with her blond curls and leaning slightly over as if to see what tasks I was working on so late, but really just giving me a good view of her breasts. I often wonder what it is she’s really offering.

Lo’s “Do Not Disturb” sign

“No Ms. Gale. That won’t be necessary. I’m just reviewing the quarterly numbers. Have a good night.”

Not Ms. Gale, but looks much like her.

“OK, Mr. H.,” she said, turning around and affording me a good look at her long legs in her short skirt and heels as she sauntered down the hall. If Lo only knew what possibilities I pass up while she dangles her dalliances for my delight.

About two hours later, I went home thinking that Lo would still be out. But when I got in, I heard her ecstatic screeches emanating from the bedroom. I followed the sweet sound down the hall and, rather than find Lo engaged in some self-pleasure stress relief, I found the bedroom door closed and her pink panties hanging on the doorknob, indicating that she was engaged in a session with someone and did not wish to be disturbed.

I turned around and began making some leftovers for my dinner. As I was stirring the soup on the stovetop, suddenly Lo walked in, butt naked, holding her black dildo. My presence startled her.

“Oh, hi Daddio,” she said, after briefly wielding her sex toy like a weapon.

“Going to bludgeon me with your masturbatory mace?”

“Ha,” she chuckled, “sorry. I just came.”

“I know.”

“I just came to get a glass of water.”

“Who’s here?”

“Oh, just Robert.”

“Just?”

“Well, only Robert. One at a time tonight.”

Lo’s Leaky Quim

“Am I on the list?”

“Did you make a reservation?”

“Do you have an app for that?”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in,” she said, grabbing the glass of water and a paper towel. “Hold this,” she said, passing me the dildo.

I held the giant black cock in my hand gingerly as she put the paper towel between her legs, wiping a trail from her knee up to her crotch.

“Sorry, I don’t want to track up.”

“How considerate.”

She took back her dildo and waddled with the paper towel between her legs back to the bedroom.

I heard her say, “HH is home,” before she shut the door.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard the door open and Dr. Robert Smith appeared in the little dining area by my table as I ate my soup.

“See you at the faculty meeting?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“Don’t forget that proposal that I put forward for us to vote on.”

“It’s in the forefront of my mind,” I assured him.

“Well, goodnight.”

“Say,” I said, not letting him go just yet.

“Yes?”

“How are things with that woman in Italy?” I inquired.

“Linda?”

“Yeah. Still romantically involved?”

“Actually,” he said, “funny you mention it. Try to keep this to yourself,” he said in a hushed tone, “but I think we’re going to get married.”

“Married?!” I said.

“Shhhhh,” he cautioned.

“Right. Well, this is news. How’d this come about?”

“It hasn’t yet. I’m going to go visit her to propose.”

“When?” I was eager for him to go.

“In a couple of weeks,” he said with a broad smile on his face.

“So I suppose you won’t be needing Lo as your goto girl to get your rocks off anymore?”

“I certainly hope not,” he said.

“Well, isn’t that rude?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he apologized almost immediately. “I mean, hopefully she’ll agree and come here to live.”

“I wish you the best of luck, my friend. Does Lo know?”

“Not yet. It’s a bit of a secret until I pop the question. OK?”

“Sure, sure,” I said reassuringly.

“See you at the meeting.”

“Yup.”

With that he was gone.

I wasn’t even done with my soup when I heard Lo call out from the bedroom, “DADIOOOOooooo!”

That’s my queue.

I appeared in the doorway. She was spread-eagle naked on the bed.

“I guess that’s why they call it a bedspread. When you get on it, you really spread.”

“Shut up and get in me. You know you want to.”

“What do you see in him?”

“His accent. When he speaks, my pussy glistens.”

“Does he fuck you with his words?”

“Well, he uses his tongue in more ways than one.”

“How was it?” I asked her.

“Amazing,” she said, sounding very content.

“Why?”

“His cock is so long. It’s like twice as long as yours.”

“Mine is over eight inches. You’re saying he’s sixteen inches long?”

“Well, no. Maybe like ten. But it feels twice as long.”

I removed my clothes and looked at her. I asked, “How do you want it? Quick and quiet or long and loud?”

“I always like long and loud, Daddy.”

“Looks like your quim sprung a leak,” I said.

“My what?” she asked.

“Your quim.”

“That’s a new one,” she said.

“Actually, it’s quite old.”

“What is?”

“Quim.”

“What is a quim?”

“Quim is a slang word for vulva.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re saying my quim is quite old?”

“No, the word is old. It probably comes from ‘queem,’ meaning ‘snug’ in Middle English.”

“Well, I know what I cum from,” she said, looking at me with stars in her eyes.

“Lots and lots of cock,” I said.

“I am easy to please, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What else makes your quim cum?”

She squirmed around, got on her tum, and looked up at me with her big brown eyes. “Why do I find your intelligence so incredibly sexy?” she asked, licking her lips as she stared at my cock.

“Because you’re a sapiosexual.”

“Don’t you find that flattering?” she asked.

“No, not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just interested in me until the next smarter person comes around. Frankly, it’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh, that is not true.”

“Really? How do you know it’s not true?”

“Because you’re more than just intelligence to me. You also have a sweet bod and an amazing dick and you can fuck me senseless.”

“That may be, but I still think you might just fall in love with Deep Blue, given the chance.”

“Deep Blue?”

“Yeah, you know, the IBM computer that beat Kasparov at chess.”

“Yes, I know that, silly. I was just thinking. . .”

“Thinking what?”

“Thinking about how deep he can be.”

“Good grief!”

“I mean, if you could hook up that computer to these,” she said, holding up her Hitachi and dildo with both hands, “then, I may just fall in love.”

“You can already do that. They make vibrating dildos that can be controlled remotely through your phone.”

“They do?!”

“Oh, geez, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She immediately grabbed her phone and began googling it.

“See,” I said, “here I am hard up and ready to do you, and you’re on your tum, nude, fingering yourself to images on your phone. I told you you’d pass me up for the next most intelligent thing.”

“Awe, do you have blue-balls?” she asked condescendingly.

“Yes!”

“Then get behind me and deep blue me!”

“Say please.”

“Now, after I complimented you, you’re full of yourself.”

“Yeah, well, soon you’ll be full of me too. But you have to ask for it.”

“Please fuck me. Please fuck my pussy. Please fuck my cunt. Please fuck my quim.”

“That’s better,” I said as I slid into her cum-filled hole. I added, “I guess it’s not really a quim.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not snug at all.”

“That’s not what Robert said.”

“What did Robert say?”

“Fuck me harder and I’ll tell you.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me harder,” she requested politely.

I pushed in further, and when I pulled back, I heard a slurping sound from her supple snatch.

“That’s it,” she said, moaning. “Robert said I have a sweet, cozy cunt.”

“Lo,” I said, “you are our sweet honeypot.”

“He deposited his nectar in the hive. Will you?”

The thought of her and Robert flooded my mind and soon I flooded her with a load of my own.

“What happened to long and loud, Daddio?”

“Sorry, but the idea of Robert filling you up put me over the edge.”

“You’re such a fucking philosopher, cumming to the idea.”

After I pulled out, she reached down and spooned up some spunk with her fingers and licked it.

“You’re damn lucky,” she said, “that not only am I easy to please, I’m also eager to please.”

She put the Hitachi between her legs and went to work on herself.

“I have a little bad news for you.”

“What’s that, Daddio,” she asked as if from afar, dwelling in her dreamy state of bliss.

“Robert confided in me that he intends to propose to Linda.”

“What?!” asked Lo as she sat up rapidly, dropping the Hitachi and gushed from between her legs onto the bedspread.

“Yep. He told me as he was leaving. But it’s a secret right now.”

“That bastard!”

“I guess your cunt was just a temporary salve.”

“A what?! My cunt is the cause of his convalescence. Do you think he’d have the confidence to propose to her if he wasn’t fucking me? Just a year ago or so he was suffering from crippling insecurity and erectile dysfunction.”

“Just remember, he told me in confidence that he plans on proposing to her. It’s just between us.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t blow anything.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

Naughty Schoolgirl & Her Daddy

Posted on February 16, 2020 by Lola Down

Happy Valentine’s Day!

It was the week before Valentine’s Day. Lo and I had planned a mini-vacation weekend to ski country. I had booked us a special room at a resort hotel that included a wood-burning fireplace, a kitchenette, and, at the central fitness area, there was an indoor/outdoor heated pool, an indoor hot tub and a second outdoor hot tub. We were right on the mountain – ski off/ski in.

We arrived at night and since Lo had been diddling herself and telling me sordid stories from her past the whole drive there, she immediately got naked as I unpacked and brought in the groceries we had bought for the weekend.

She lay on the bed, legs spread, saying, “Daddy, don’t you want this?” as she slapped her pussy lips with her right hand.

I glanced at Lo’s untrimmed triangle and said, “Lo, that bush is so hot it’s on fire!”

“The burning bush, Daddio, the symbol of God on earth.”

“You said it! Just give me a minute to get this fire going and I’ll tend to yours.”

I stoked the fireplace and got it roaring and casting flickering yellow light in a few moments. Then I began to remove my shirt.

“Slowly, Daddy,” said Lo, “I want to enjoy this.”

I took off my clothes very slowly for Lo’s entertainment and then climbed into bed with her. The heat in the room was already pretty warm when we got there and before long she and I were creating quite a sweat. It was like a Bikram yoga studio in there. Mid-coitus we both had to stop and open up the sliding glass door that led out onto the mountain. I swear I could see the snow melting as the warm air escaped our room!

Lo got up and went into the shower. I heard the water streaming, the steam flowing out of the bathroom into the hot living room where I sat reading a book, and out the door into the cool mountain air, illuminated by the full moon in the clear night sky. After almost an hour, I heard her shrieks of ecstasy as she came multiple times.

She finally walked out of the bathroom, naked, revealing that her previously shag-like pubic area was now silky smooth. “I’m ready for you now,” she said.

“Good water pressure?” I asked.

“So good.”

“Bend over,” I commanded. She bent over the couch of the living room and I saw her ass, illuminated by the dancing flames from the fireplace. Cool air rushing in, hot air rushing out, Lo’s wet body in front of me, the fire behind me – it was as if we were in the womb of the earth with the primordial elements swirling about us, performing the holy act of creation.

I spread the two half-moons of her ass and applied my tongue to the central pleasure point. She let out a moan. I got on my knees and licked from back to front and back again as she spread her legs in the widest upside-down “V” that she could. Now it was like a Tantra yoga session.

I turned around, sat on the floor with my back up against the front of the couch and Lola slid her inner thigh up and down over my extended tongue. She came and she squirted right on me as I sat under her! I lapped it up as best I could.

“Fuck me, Daddy!” she demanded as she now turned, bent over the coffee table and I got behind her. Within mere seconds she was convulsing again. When Lo gets this excited, she involuntarily contracts the walls of her vagina and, despite my best efforts, squeezes me right out. It happened like that as she fell to her knees and ejaculated on the carpet.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she called out as it was happening.

“Don’t be,” I said, watching her with bemusement.

I grabbed some paper towels from the kitchenette and cleaned up after her.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so embarrassed. I feel like a puppy that needs to be housebroken.”

I laughed.

The next day we skied for a good few hours. We called it quits around three and then made plans for dinner.

We weren’t too far from a descent sized college town and Lo, foodie that she is, had already scoped out the best eats for a romantic dinner. She picked out my clothes for me saying, “This is a classy place. You can’t just go there in jeans, you know.” She followed it up with, “I wish you’d let me go shopping for you. All your clothes make you look like a stuffy old professor. Tweed? Really? Tweed?” She was referencing my dinner jacket. Nonetheless, she got me as presentable as humanly possible.

She, herself, was dressed to the nines. She loves any occasion to get dolled up. She wore a tight-fitting red dress that came down just past her knees and highlighted her curves. She wore strappy, flesh colored heels and to me she looked fabulous. The painful paradox about her amazing good looks and impeccable fashion taste is that as soon as she gets dressed up like that, I want to immediately rip off all her clothes and have her naked. The happiest solution to that paradox is to slip up her dress and do her from behind as she stands bent over the bed in her heels. But that was not to be on this occasion. She was too well put together for me to mess it all up with a wild romp before dinner.

When we got on the road it was still light out and I had recently got my hair cut shorter than usual. Lo looked over at me from the passenger seat and ran her hand through my hair and said, “Every time you get a haircut it brings out more grey.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, I mean it in a good way,” she said. “You look hot with all that salt and pepper.”

“You sure you don’t just mean I look old?”

“Old and hot,” she said and then she leaned back, spread her legs, and grabbed my hand and placed it on her smooth knee. “Touch me.”

I caressed her knee.

“Keep going,” she instructed, meaning, keep working my way up her inner thigh. She pulled her dress up, spread her legs further apart, putting a foot up on the dash, “You know the drill.” I leaned over a bit in order to put my hand on her crotch and stroke. Just as I did so, we almost got hit by an oncoming car swerving into our lane. “Hey! Two hands on the wheel!” Lo called out, clamping her legs together.

“But he. . .”

“And drive the speed limit.”

“Sweetheart, that says Route 5, not 5 miles per hour.”

“Oh.”

We avoided dying a gruesome death on the highway and pulled into a quaint little college town nestled in the foothills of the mountains.

“Wow,” said Lo, “Look at that sign. It’s so retro.”

She was talking about a big sign over a diner that looked vintage 1950’s.

“I don’t think it’s retro, I think it’s just old,” I replied.

“No, it’s a classic.”

“Like me? Am I a classic?”

“No. You’re an antique.”

Soon we were at our destination. It was in one of the tallest buildings in town, a five story hotel. The restaurant was on the top floor. Lo and I walked into the lobby and got an elevator all to ourselves. Once the doors closed, she leaned up against me, kissing me and reaching for my crotch.

“Hey,” I protested, “there’s a camera in here, you know.”

“Even better,” she said as she pushed her breasts up in the tight dress for me to kiss.

The doors opened into a crowded bar that led to the restaurant.

Apparently, this was the only fine food in town since almost every table was full. Luckily Lo had called ahead of time to make reservations and we were seated next to an older couple (yes, even older than I by about twenty years) and because the tables for two were spaced in close proximity to each other, Lo and I politely said hello and smiled. The older couple was very gregarious and immediately started up a conversation with us. Lo and I quickly realized that they were under the impression that I was Lo’s father and I was visiting her here at her college. We did nothing to disabuse them of that notion and we played along with a secret maliciousness shared between us that excited us both. All through the conversation, Lo’s sexy foot was rubbing my leg up and down under the table.

The words that Lo usually saves for private, intimate moments were spoken freely and publicly, such as, “Thank you, Daddy, for coming. . . to visit me.”

“It’s my pleasure, little girl,” I responded, “I love coming. . . to visit. And I love it when you come. . . home to visit me too. I want you to come. . . more often.”

“Oh, Daddy, I promise to come as much as I can.”

This sort of silly banter gave us a perverse pleasure and I could see the desire in Lo’s eyes increasing as she played the role of naughty schoolgirl.

She was so eager to get back to the suite, that we skipped dessert. The older couple was having their (decaf) coffee after their meal when we got up to leave. We wished them a good night and they wished me a good visit. I politely helped Lo into her jacket, and then, as we walked out of the restaurant, I put my hand on her ass in a very possessive manner. We walked to the elevator, and in there she wrapped her body around mine and kissed me passionately. The doors opened to the lobby and I had to tap her to indicate that we were a spectacle to be seen by anyone in the lobby. She pulled herself off of me and straightened out her dress before walking into the lobby. I followed her and, to my surprise, she pulled me down a hall off to the right of the lobby.

“What? Where are you going?” I asked.

“Just shut up and follow me.”

Neither of us had ever been in this hotel before and so I wasn’t sure what she was doing. She opened up a door that led into a large linen closet filled with folded sheets and towels. She shut the door behind us and turned on the lights.

“Daddy, I can’t wait until we get home,” she said as her right hand unzipped my fly and reached in to fondle my cock and her left hand hiked up her dress, reached up and under it, and began rubbing her clit over her panties.

“Lo!” I protested.

“Shhhh!” she commanded.

“Lo, what if someone walks in here?”

“The maids only use this to make the beds in the morning. Don’t worry. We’re safe here for now. If you’d be quiet, this will only take a few seconds.”

She was pulling on my cock and rubbing her clit vigorously. She looked at my erection and I could see by the weakness of her knees that she really only had seconds to go before. . .

“Oh, oh, OH!” she called, biting her lip, trying to contain the volume of her orgasm. She let go of my member and fell back into the shelves on the wall. She leaned up against it for support as her fingers continued to rub out the orgasm to completion. I saw the panties transform from light pink to almost red as her ejaculate oozed through the material. Luckily she had enough towels for an army to soak up the wetness running down her inner thigh. When she was done pleasuring herself and drying off, she removed her soaked panties and wrapped them in a dry, white towel, putting them in her purse. She through the dirty towels on the floor so no one would mistake them for the clean ones and she straightened her dress, pulling it down by the hem, and asked, “Do I look ok?”

“You look great,” I said, trying to put my erection back into my pants with difficulty.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just a little flush in the face.”

I got my manhood to stand straight, but inside my boxers, and I zipped up my fly, tucked in my shirt and said, “I’m going to need a minute.”

Lo looked longingly at my crotch and said, “Oh yeah.”

Lo leaned in to kiss me full of passion.

“Lo,” I said, pulling back, “you’re not helping the situation.”

She and I stood awkwardly in the closet waiting for the emblem of my desire to subside.

A mere five or six minutes after we entered the linen closet, we walked out of it, apparently unnoticed.

We got into the car and she laughed at our mischievousness. Before we had even driven out of the parking lot, she had my fly undone, my cock out, and her face in my lap.

We got back to our little suite and, as she slipped out of the tight dress, I got the fire roaring and soon we were at it with her calling to me, “Daddy, fuck me! Fuck me, Daddy!” It took mere seconds before she was cumming again.

Sex on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Posted on December 27, 2019 by Lola Down

[Continued from: Quiver]

When I woke up from my long nap, I found Lo sitting in the cozy chair next to the hotel room bed, on her computer, typing away.

“Whatcha doin’?” I muttered.

“Oh, well, look who has rejoined the land of the living!”

“What time is it?”

“Six.”

“Six?! I must have been out for like three hours!

“About three and a half.”

“What have you been up to?”

“This, that.”

“Right.”

I slid like a sloth over the bed toward the chair and peeked over her computer to see what she was doing. As I suspected, she was chatting up people on social media. NSFW social media.

“You want to see?”

“OK.”

She showed me. One guy had messaged her, “What are you wearing?” Another messaged her “Do you like cum?” She posted a pic of herself covered in cum and said, “Answered two-in-one.” She thought for a moment. “Hmmmm, two-in-one – that’s my favorite sex position!”

“It’s too early for your humor,” I grumbled.

“What are we going to do, Daddio?” she asked, excited and perky, as she shut her computer.

“What about your virtual gentlemen callers, Lo? Are you just going to leave them hanging like that?”

“No worries. They’ll jack off to my photos and show me the evidence later. They’re ok.”

“Twenty-first Century romance at its finest.”

“You want to go out?”

“I’m not a dog.”

“If only.”

“I don’t want to go out,” I said. “I want a coffee, three Ibuprofen, and a shower, in that order.”

“What’s the matter, ole man?”

“Day drinking, day fucking, sun stroke, and probably death.”

“Then this is heaven,” she said, spreading her legs and stroking her pussy. Did I mention she was naked in that chair?

“Lo, please.”

“It’s alright,” she said, “I already came.”

“When don’t you cum? Honestly.”

“What restaurant tonight?” She was persistent.

“How about tonight we just order room service. We have a five o’clock flight in the morning.”

She pouted.

“Lo, too much of a good thing. . .”

“Is a better thing!”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“Fine, fine,” she said.

A little later we got our dinner delivered and put on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles. As we watched it, I turned to her and said, “You are definitely Neal Page,” (the Steve Martin character).

“And you are definitely Del,” (the John Candy character).

“Glad we agree on something.”

We went to bed early. No sex. At least not for me. What she did, I don’t know because I fell right to sleep.

The next day, she was not having it. Morning, that is.

When I woke her, she said, “It’s dark outside. This is not a time.”

“Lo, it’s three-thirty. We have to get to the airport, drop off the rental car, and get through security.”

“Three-thirty is late afternoon.”

“There are two of them. This is the other one.”

“I don’t like it,” she said. She put her head under the pillow.

“We have to get going,” I pleaded.

She finally got herself together and we were in the rental car driving to the airport. The whole way Lo was complaining. I knew it was because the sun had not even begun to rise yet. She is a nocturnal animal, but an early bird she is not.

“Look,” I finally said out of frustration, “if you want to actually be Neal Page, then you can walk the rest of the way.”

“OK, Del,” she said snidely.

“Might I remind you that Del was kind-hearted, upbeat, jovial, and he also got them out of every hopeless situation they found themselves in.”

“Are you kidding me? If it wasn’t for Neal and all his money, they never would have gotten out of St. Louis. Del just used Neal because Del was broke. Del was a manipulator, a freeloader, a grifter.”

“Del was happy. Neal was a miserable, uptight, meanspirited, asshole.”

“Neal had a job and a family. Del sold shower curtain rings, was homeless, and had no one.”

“He was a widower! His wife died! He probably loved her so much that he went to pieces after she passed away.”

“Pshhhaw,” she said dismissively.

“Are you honestly telling me that you think Neal was the better of the two characters?”

“Yes.”

“Del taught Neal how to enjoy life. Del was well-liked all across the Midwest. Everywhere they went, he knew people and they went out of their way to help him. He must have been a nice guy. Neal knew no one.”

“Neal had a real job and didn’t go door-to-door.”

“Why are we fighting about this?” I finally said to Lo.

“You know,” she replied back, “you just missed the exit to the airport.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You were so caught up in being right that we drove clear passed it.”

“Fuck!”

She pulled out her phone and was figuring out how to get to the car rental place.

In the distance I could see the sun just breaking through the horizon.

“I know why you’re so argumentative,” I said to Lo. “You didn’t get to jill it this morning.”

“Duh.”

“Well, go on. It only takes you a minute. After all, Del said that Neal’s worst trait was he was always fidgeting with his balls.”

“And Del’s worst trait was he never shut up,” she said as she slid her hand down her pants.

When we got to the airport and were driving up the parking garage toward the car rental return, she said, “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Just pull into a parking spot. I’ll finish here.”

I did as she said, but warned her, “Be quick about it. We’re already running late.”

I backed in so I could see if anyone or any cars were coming while Lo was intent on cumming, but the place, the time pressure, the stress of it all made the five minutes of diddling the bean all for naught.

“Fuck,” she said, but not in a good way. “Let’s just go.” She removed her hand from her jeans and buttoned them up. I drove us to the proper destination for the rental and we made it to our flight just on time.

We boarded and buckled in for our four hour flight back home. Lo pulled out her noise cancelling headphones and plugged them into her phone. After we were in the air, Lo turned something on and that something turned her on.

She asked the flight attendant for a blanket. That could only mean one thing.

She draped the blanket over her legs and dove down with her favorite fap finger and soon she was clenching her knees together. That took all of three or four minutes and then another three or four minutes after that, Lo was sound asleep with her headphones still on.

Out of curiosity, I removed her headphones gently from her head and listened. She had the audio of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl playing, as read by the incomparable Jupiter Grant. Unbelievable. Never have I met such a vain, narcissistic nymphomaniac. She actually got off to herself getting off! Well, that and Ms. Grant’s sexy reading voice. I was a bit flattered since I had written the words that brought her to climax. Better than writing for Hallmark. [See NOTE]

Just before we landed, I woke Lo to avoid her being startled by the bump when the wheels hit the tarmac. I told her she might want to button up her pants. She did so.

When we got out into the brutally cold weather of the Northeast, we tried desperately to get a Lyft, an Uber, or a taxi, but since this was the second most travelled day of the year, they were all a long wait. We ended up taking the subway right at the height of rush hour.

As usual on our return flight, Lo was terribly underdressed for the weather back home. She only had on her skin-tight jeans, her striped jackpot top, and a leather jacket. Because of the biting cold, even after we got on the subway, her nipples were protruding right through the already shapely and revealing shirt. The suits on their way to the office took notice and Lo basked in their attention, especially insofar as I was well aware of it. She likes to tease them and me simultaneously.

She gave me a sidelong glance and ran her tongue over her sparkly white teeth as she pressed up a little closer to one suit when the crush of people got on at the next stop.

I’ll admit, it made me rigid and uncomfortable.

When we got out of the crowded subway car, I turned to Lo and said, “You’re so lucky I love you, because any other man would leave you after a ride like that.”

“Save it for home,” she said. “That wasn’t the last ride of the day. You have one more to give me.”

As soon as we got in the door and dropped the bags, she took me by the hand into the bedroom. “Why do you ignore me so much, Daddy?”

“Ignore you?! Lo, I lavish attention on you.”

“You don’t show it.”

“You mean, I don’t show it the way strangers in a subway show it.”

“Yeah,” she said, dropping her pants, sliding out of her pink thong, and lifting up her striped shirt, no bra. “Come here and warm me up,” she said.

I got naked and in the bed next to her and she wrapped her bare body around mine.

“You know why I tease them and flirt with all those hard-up husbands on social media, don’t you?”

“Enlighten me, Lo.”

“Because I’m just trying to get your attention. It’s all for you.”

Suddenly the lyrics to the song by Janet Jackson were floating through my mind. I was in a delirious dream state. She climbed on me and all I could hear in my head was, “Guess I’m goanna have ride it tonight.”

Up and down she posted, saying to me, “Cum in me. Cum in me. Cum deep in me. Give me your attention. Give it to me. Give it all to me. I want it. I want it all. I need it. I need more. I need more. Fuck, I need it. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me Daddy.”

I saw her fire-engine-red fingernails down over her clit. I felt her fingers pry up and into her snatch. She wiggled them deeper inside, up along the top of my shaft as she lifted her hips up, and then she delved in deeper as she lowered her wet crotch down to the base of my cock.

Now it was just her and me fucking in the cold sunshine back home. No strippers. No beach girls in string bikinis. No musclebound men mounting Lola like a stray bitch in heat found wandering around the boardwalk. No sexting hard husbands, willing wives, and curious couples looking for a cheap thrill. No chatting up lustful ladies or seducing single men with her virtual vagina over the internet. No. None of that. Now it was just the two of us fucking.

“Where do you want me to cum? Show me with your finger,” I said as I felt myself getting close.

“Right here,” she said, wiggling her index finger on her g-spot.

“Now?”

“Now.”

I ejaculated right onto her fingertips lodged deep inside her hole.

When I had given her her fill, I slid out and she pulled her sticky little hand and licked each finger as if she had just made cake batter and got it on her hand.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said as she collapsed on me and fell asleep.

I knew she was asleep because her breathing had changed and when her phone buzzed, she didn’t move.

I reached over to the nightstand and picked up her phone. It was one of her internet friends. I read the message: “Hey Lo, my wife is in the shower. I’ve got about five minutes. Do you think you could help me cum?”

[NOTE: The Audiobook is not out yet. Lo was listening to Jupiter Grant’s raw recording. Expected release date: Valentine’s Day, 2020. Stay tuned!]

Quiver

Posted on December 15, 2019 by Lola Down

[Continued from “Black Friday: A Juicy Story Before Brunch”

The day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Miami Beach. Lo was on a mission. This was our third day in Miami. Seventy-two hours of glorious sunny days, short-shorts, and sex. And, in typical Lo fashion, she wanted more of all three.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked.

“I thought we were having sex,” she said as she sat on the side of the bed wearing only her sexy tank-top T-shirt and spreading her legs.

“Sex for breakfast?”

“Yeah, we’ll call it ‘Sex-fest.’”

“But Lo, you just came twice.”

“That was all external stimulation. It just makes me more hungry.”

“Hungry for breakfast?” I asked, since I was starving.

“No, hungry for your cock in my cunt.”

“It’s not even 9 a.m. and you’re using that sort of language?!”

“It’s never too early to speak a Romance Language.”

“You forget, I was in the Romance Languages department at my college. They didn’t speak like that.”

“Illiterate.”

“We could discuss the nuances of philology all morning, but. . .”

“But I want you to fuck me. Please. Just a quick in-and-out is all I need.”

“Fine,” I said and I puled my shorts down around my knees.

The hotel room bed was only a full; much smaller than we were used to. I said to her, “There better be a spot for me in that bed cause I’m getting in it.”

“Oh, I’ve got a spot for you and you definitely are going to get in it.”

She turned over and scrunched up her body into a little ball on the bed, exposing her puss and ass to me.

“Just go right in,” she said over her shoulder, as if I needed some instructions.

“Top or bottom?” I asked.

“Top or bottom?” she was confused.

“Yeah, which hole?”

“Which do you want?” she asked seductively, surprising me.

“Top!” I said without hesitation.

“Well, fill the bottom first and, if you’re good, you can have the top.”

Lola & HH

Standing by the side of the bed, I slid in with ease and she moaned. She was drenched and dripping. “Stay. Right. There,” she commanded. I didn’t even move. I just grabbed her by her hips and lifted her a little then pushed her down a little. Up and down, up and down I slid her on my cock. My thumb moved its way to her top hole to press against it. Within seconds her cunt was gushing and clenching. I pulled her in closer by her hips to make sure I stayed in place; the tip of my cock up against her g-spot. She didn’t even scream. She just bit her lower lip and moaned. I could see her facial expressions and contortions in the mirror. In a few more seconds she pulled forward and, as I slid out of her, she squirted. I was careful to jump back and avoid getting splashed.

“Ahhhh,” she said, “that did the trick.”

She was splayed out on the bed now, breathing heavily. I stood next to the bed.

“This isn’t a coat rack,” I said of my erect phallus.

“What?” she asked, perplexed.

“You promised me the top hole, remember?”

“Oh, right!”

She scrunched up into her little ball again, wiggling her ass in front of me. “Can you hit the target?” she teased.

“Stay still and my arrow will fill your quiver.”

I grabbed her hips again and pressed the full head of my cock up against her sphincter. Her flower bud opened. Slowly I filled her. I could see her hands out in front of her clutching the bed sheets as she felt the pain and pleasure of my deep dive.

Again she commanded, “Stay. Right. There.” Her ass clenched down on me and her body turned the noun, “quiver,” into a verb.

Suddenly she lunged forward, just like she did before, leaving me hard up, standing by the side of the bed a second time as she caught her breath.

Turning her head over her shoulder, she said, “Amazing, Daddio!”

Then, noticing me pulling up my shorts, she said, “Aren’t you going to cum?”

“Darling, thirty seconds of standing behind you, rigid as a statue, while you got your rocks off was exclusively for your pleasure.”

“But I want you to cum.” She turned around, on all fours, facing me, or rather, my crotch. She looked up at me and asked, “Don’t you know what Cyndi Lauper says?”

“Cyndi Lauper?! You’re dating yourself dear.”

“Oh, I wish I could date myself. I’d be such a good fuck.”

“You’re getting distracted again. What does Cyndi Lauper say?”

“Oh, right. She sings, ‘Girls just wanna have cum. That’s all they really want – some cum.’” She sang the lyrics.

Girls Just Wanna Have Cum

“I think you might be taking some poetic license with that.”

“Whatever. Cum in my mouth,” she commanded as she took my cock into her open mouth and slobbered over it with her tongue.

“And spoil your appetite?” I asked, enjoying the sensation and the thought of what a dirty, slutty girl she is.

“It’s more of an appetizer.”

“No,” I said flatly, pulling out of her mouth.

She pouted.

“I’m starving,” I said. “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to waste away.”

She rolled her eyes sarcastically – as if I was in any mortal danger of wasting away.

“What?” I asked. “Look at me,” I said, striking a pose, flexing my biceps, “One hundred seventy-five pounds of pure muscle!”

“One hundred and seventy-five?!” Lo exclaimed in disbelief, “Aren’t you a few pounds off there?”

“No. It is a hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle. The other thirty pounds might be fat, but under it is the pure muscle.”

“Still a little shy of the mark, I think.”

“Well, the other ten pounds is brain, of course.”

“Of course,” she said sardonically.

I stepped on the scale and cursed it saying, “You lying sack of shit!”

Lo, naked but for her T-shirt, stepped on the scale after me and said, “It better not be lying, it says I lost two pounds!”

“It lies.”

“Does it? Or could it be that my diet and exercise and drinking plenty of liquids has caused me to lose two pounds?”

“It lies.”

“Why would it lie to me that I lost two pounds and lie to you that you. . . well, uh, you’re. . . ?”

“Because it likes the view it has of you from down there.”

She laughed. She almost never laughs at my jokes, but I suppose this one also appealed to her vanity. I love it when she laughs.

“Do you like the view?” she asked, bending over and looking at me from between her knees.

“I don’t know why they call it mooning when it looks as bright and pink as the sunrise to me,” I said. “But as pretty as you are, morning glory, can we please go get breakfast?”

“Sure,” she said as she slipped into her bikini bottoms. “How do these look?”

It was a very skimpy pink thong bikini bottom that she purposely pulled up extra tight.

I gave her a cat-call whistle and launched into a sing-song limerick:

Do your labia hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
Can you throw ’em o’er your shoulder
Like a continental soldier?
Do your labia hang low?

“What?!” she asked, looking down between her legs.

“Look in the mirror,” I gestured.

She took a look and could see what I saw: her puffy pussy lips straddling the skinny g-string. She’s very self-conscious of her large labia.

“Ah, fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissing my concern. She walked up to me and, seeing that I had pitched a tent in my shorts, she sang back:

Does your cock stand high?
Does it reach up to the sky?
Does it droop when it’s wet?
Does it stiffen when it’s dry?
Can you wave it at your neighbor
With an element of flavor?
Does your dick stand high?

“Touché,” I said.

“Tushie?” she asked, turning around and showing me her bottom again.

I smacked it hard and said, “That’s for being tardy.”

We finally got in the rental car and I let Lo drive. Lo being Lo, she blasted the radio and “I’m Real” by Ja Rule happened to be on, pounding the bass of the speakers to the chorus:

-Cause I’m real-
The way you walk
The way you move
The way you talk
-Cause I’m real-
The way you stare
The way you look
Your style your hair
-Cause I’m real-
The way you smile
The way you smell
It drives me wild
-Cause I’m real-
And I can’t go on without you

Lo was contentedly squirming in her leather bucket seat to the beat of the music.

“Can you shut that damn music off?!” I complained.

“You know, you sound like an old man when you say that.”

“You know, I am an old man.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just sad to think about.”

“Well, if you want to break up with me, go right ahead.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“No. You said that it’s ‘sad’ to think about me being an old man.”

“It is! I mean, I’m not even at the great hump of my life yet.”

“I thought I was the great hump of your life.”

“I should hope not.”

“What?!”

“What I mean is, I’m not over the hill yet.”

“I should hope not.”

“What does that mean?”

“It simply means, that at twenty-something, you still have some great humps to look forward to.”

“And you don’t?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m looking forward to humping you in about five minutes.”

“Why so long?”

“So long? Is five minutes too much to wait for you youngins these days?”

“Five minutes is like two and a half news cycles.”

“Well, here’s some breaking news: the best is yet to come.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause I love cumming.” She pulled up to the curb. “Here we are. Where are you going to fuck me?”

“Well, I need nourishment first. Let’s eat,” I said as we got out of the convertible and went to the hostess stand on the sidewalk. We were seated at a quaint table outside with a view of Ocean Boulevard and the beach across the street. Pretty people were walking by and fancy cars were cruising slowly to see and be seen.

A tricked-out car drove by – shiny, sparkly, loud. Lo was clearly impressed.

She observed it closely and then commented, “The exhaust is merely cosmetic.”

“Just like yours!” I quipped.

She gave me a look of faux shock.

A musclebound fella walked by in a tiny speedo and a loose fitting tank-top.

“Lo, stop drooling. Or at least use a napkin.”

“What?! He’s a very beefy boy. . . and I’m a beefeater,” she said, taking a slow, seductive bite of her sausage.

After breakfast, we walked down the strip and Lo was window shopping, until she was actually shopping. I sat outside sipping my frozen drink. When she came back out, she gave me a t-shirt like the one worn by Mr. Muscles.

“I didn’t know whether to get you a large or an extra large,” she said.

“You should always get me grandiose.”

“To match your ego?”

We walked down to the beach and Lo pulled out of her oversized bag a sheet she stole from the hotel. She spread it out on the sand and then spread herself on top of it. I sat down next to her and began rubbing in the sunscreen on her shoulders. When I was done I said, “I’ll draw on your back with my finger and you tell me what I’m spelling.”

“OK. But where’s the top?”

“Here,” I said, as I scribbled up by her shoulder blades.

“Hey! What are you doing?” she asked as my finger went down between her butt cheeks.

“I’m just seeing where the bottom is. Oh! Look at that. I think I found the ink well.”

“Yeah?! You’re gonna have a broken nub if you keep it up!”

After a bit, she pulled out the deck of cards from her bag and began shuffling them.

“What are you playing?”

“Strip Solitaire.”

“Are you winning or losing?”

“I’ll take off my top and you tell me.”

I scanned the beach to see if any other women were going topless.

“Hey!” she said, “I’m over here!!!”

She thought she saw me looking at some of the other sexy women on the strand.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, teasing her. “So I like looking at them. They’re like boats: I like how they look, but I don’t want to have one.”

“Oh yeah? Like boats? You better watch out that I don’t wash them away with my tsunami.”

“Are you squirting again? I didn’t even see you touch your puss.”

“I don’t need to with all this eye-candy.”

“Oh, so it’s ok for you to look, but not me?”

“Exactly. Next pair of sunglasses I buy you will be blinders.”

With that comment, she left her card game and sauntered into the water. Just at the water’s edge, she turned back to me and called, “Daddio! Aren’t you coming?”

“Not yet,” I called back, “but I will be.”

“What?!” she called.

“I’m not coming!”

She yelled back, “I’ll fix that!” She then turned tail and bent over, revealing her shoelace thin thong. She feigned finding a seashell, but she was just showing off. She eventually walked in the water, sticking out her tongue at me over her shoulder as the waves crested and fell over her hips. Then she dove in.

When she returned from the cool dip, she asked, “What do you think of my hair?” as it dripped from its curls down her breasts.

“You look just like Medusa.”

“That’s not a compliment. Wasn’t she so ugly that she turned anyone who looked at her to stone?”

“No no no, that’s not it. What the Greeks meant was any man who saw her got hard as a rock and that’s how I feel about you and your wild, curly hair.”

“Nice save,” she said with a smile as she laid down next to me, getting me all wet.

I had just got comfortable and was engrossed in the book I was reading, The Postmodern Condition, you know, your typical beach read, when she said, “Let’s go for a walk Daddy.”

“What? Now?”

“Yes, Daddio. I want to go find something nice.”

“To wear?”

“To fuck.”

“I’m still available, you know.”

“Available? No you’re not. You’re taken.”

“I’d never know it.”

“You had me this morning.”

“For thirty seconds to help you get your rocks off.”

“So, what the hell are you complaining about?”

“I’d like to get my rocks off.”

“Oh, are your rocks aching?”

“Yes. Yes they are.”

“Follow me. Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

We went for a walk through the dunes to a little wooded park, verdant with scrub pines, palms, and colorful flowers. When we found a little bench, she said to me, “OK, you go over there and just watch.”

“What am I watching for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

I sat diagonally from her, about thirty feet away. I watched as she sat there looking pretty. Guys walked by, mostly couples. But then one muscular black man in a skimpy bathing suit, bulging out of the itty-bitty stretchy material, stopped and asked her a question. She looked up, batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, licking her teeth with her tongue as she looked down, furtively, at his crotch. They began chatting. And then, within not so very long they got up and walked out of sight.

About a half-hour later Lo returned to the spot where I waited for her.

She approached me slowly, with a look of wily satisfaction and mystery about her.

“You can have me now, Daddy. He’s all done.” I noticed jizz covering her clavicle. She grabbed my hand and walked me to the secluded spot where she had just been with the tall, dark stranger.

“Lo,” I said, “What do you mean he’s all done?”

“Well,” she said, “do you want me to act out exactly what we did?”

“Sure.”

She laid down on the bench and began stroking her pussy over her short shorts while I stood over her and looked at her.

“Well, Daddio?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to take out your cock and stroke it? That’s what he did.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you do?”

“What do you think? What should a good girl do when she goes to the park and begins masturbating over her shorts and a tall, dark, hung stranger appears pantless ready to fuck?”

“Did you get his digits?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah, all of them, inside me.”

“Right here?”

“Right here.”

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.

“To a bar. I need a drink.”

Truth was, it was hot. I was thirsty. I was tense. I was irritated. I was horny. And I wasn’t about to start fucking Lola right there in the barely concealed patch of public privacy.

“Wait!” she said. “I have to change first.” She spread her legs and showed me the dark spot covering the crotch of her denim shorts where she apparently squirted.

She popped into the public restroom and a moment later, she popped out wearing just her bikini top and a short skirt.

“Wow!” I said. “You’re like a superhero!”

“Super Squirt!” she pronounced, swinging her shorts around her finger, grabbing me by my arm.

We went to a fancy hotel with a rooftop deck, pool, and bar. This was a new hotel and the rooftop was pretty high up there and it even had a balcony with a glass floor.

Lo walked out and leaned over the railing and said, “Wow! Don’t look down!”

“I’m not,” I said, “I’m lookin’ up – lookin’ up your skirt, that is.” No panties. No bikini thong. Nothing. Just her perfectly shapely and shaved mons pubis.

We then went and sat at the bar where I ordered a Tom Collins. Lo apologized to the bartender for my unfashionable taste in drinks, saying, “I’m sorry, he’s old.”

The bartender chuckled.

For the middle of the day, on a beautiful beach day, the bar was pretty busy. But, I guess for the people who live down there, going to the beach every day loses its allure pretty quickly.

Lo asked me, “You want to see what I saw on the bench?”

“Sure,” I said, not knowing where she was going with this.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo of her with her legs spread and a guy with an elephant trunk hanging down from his crotch standing over her.

The old pervert seated next to Lo at the bar – not me, the guy on the other side of her – looked over Lo’s shoulder out of curiosity.

“Nice shot,” he said.

“Not nearly as nice as when he came on me,” retorted Lo without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” asked Mr. Intrusive.

“Yes, that’s so,” said Lo, followed by, “Oh, how rude of me. HH, this is,” she said, as if introducing an old friend.

“Kip,” he said.

“Kip,” said Lo. “Kip, HH,” she said, introducing us.

I shook his hand over Lo’s lap and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” he said.

He clearly had had a few already. He wore a festive Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, sandals. I’d say he was about 46 and beginning to bald. A bit overweight. Genial smile and friendly – midwestern friendly. Too friendly, you might say.

Lo was in a festive, flirty mood and so she teased and toyed with this guy, telling both him and me what happened with her mystery man down by the beach.

“How very slutty of you,” he said.

“I thought so,” replied Lo proudly.

The guy asked, “Will you be my slut?”

“I’m everyone’s slut. That’s what being a slut is.”

“I don’t know if you could handle me,” said the guy.

“Why not?” asked Lo, defiantly.

“My cock – it’s pretty big and has a lot of girth,” he said.

Lola pulled out her phone and found a photo of her horse cock dildo. “This is one of my toys,” she said. “I can handle any cock. Any human cock, that is.”

The guy was trying to play it cool, but I could see he was intrigued by Lo’s unabashed candor.

What about Lo? She was flirting and teasing, but was she actually into him? I couldn’t tell.

We had a few more drinks and continued chatting. The fella next to us was married, had adult children, older than Lo, and claimed to be in Miami on business. But it was Thanksgiving weekend. Who is in Miami on business?

Lola was waxing rhapsodic about how much she loved Miami – the ocean, the beaches, the restaurants.

The guy interjected, “The orgasms on the boardwalk.”

Lo squirmed in her barstool and pressed her knees together.

She looked at me, embarrassed. I knew what happened.

I said, “You could say, she cums with the territory,” as I feigned spilling my water.

“That’s the worst pun you ever made,” said Lo as she watched me clean up the mess she made under her stool from her perch.

“Really? I’m sure I’ve made worse,” I said, looking up at her, hoping she wouldn’t have another accidental squirting orgasm.

“I’m sorry,” Lo apologized to our new friend, “Dad jokes.”

“I’m a dad,” he said, “no need to apologize.”

Along one side of the pool there were semi-private alcoves with recliners made for two. Lo ordered another drink and suggested we take the one that was recently vacated before someone else got it. She picked up her bag and casually sauntered to her destination.

Mr. Middleage followed her, leaving me to grab (and pay for) our last round.

When I got to the little cabana, Lo was lying down with her Mr. Marriedman next to her. I handed Lo her drink and said I was going for a swim. Her antics were beginning to upset me, if I’m honest.

I got in the warm water and rested up against the side of the pool with my drink in hand, watching Lo and her beau.

She lay with her legs crossed under her skirt. She removed her bikini top. The guy ogled her. They were making small talk. I could practically read Lo’s lovely lips when she said, “That’s ok, you can touch.”

The guy put his hand on Lo’s hip and slowly caressed her. Lo turned over and he put his hand down under her skirt and I could see him touch her bum as she took a sip from her straw.

She rolled on her side, showing him her tits and letting her skirt open in front. She said, “You like what you see?”

He said something I couldn’t make out.

“Are you hard?”

Again, I couldn’t make out the words.

“Jack it,” she commanded.

He pulled a towel over his cargo shorts and reached down. Lo watched him intently.

She loves being the stimulant for sexually starving strangers, the sweet release for men and women who need a focus for their swirling smut-dreams like a mantra for meditation.

She was speaking softly to him, encouraging him, telling him dirty things about her, probably telling him about how she sucked my cock after letting me have her ass that morning.

His head dropped back and he became rigid for a few seconds before crumpling like a suit having all its starch sucked out in one magic moment.

Lo got up and came into the pool. Her skirt billowed behind her in the water. She swam to me and said, “Let’s go, Daddio.”

“Mission accomplished?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. My mission is to make you cum like that,” she said as she grabbed my cock under the water.

We got out and Lo put her top on, and we walked out, both dripping wet, but she in more ways than one.

She blew a good-bye kiss to the man with the mess in his cargo.

Back at the hotel, Lo could hardly wait.

“Did you like everything today, Daddy?” she asked as she lay naked on the bed.

“Most of it,” I said, thinking it over.

“Let’s take a shower,” she said, just as I got out of my clothes and was very ready and eager to have her.

“What? Now?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I got sand in my hoo-ha.”

“What did you say?”

“You know, I’m not interested in any pearls in the ole clam.”

“Only you, darling, only you,” I said, amused at her pornographic poetry.

The shower had a small seat built into the back wall of it. She sat on it, spread her legs, looked up at me, and said, “Was I a very bad girl today, Daddy?”

“Yes, yes you were.”

“Was I a dirty little slut?”

“Very much so.”

“Are you mad that I let a man cum on me in public?”

“No, darling.”

“Are you mad that I walked around with his cum on my body all day?”

“Proud of your accomplishment?”

“Oh yeah,” she said.

“Am I terribly disgusting?” she asked.

“Not to me,” I said. I can’t lie.

“Show me, Daddy, that I’m yours,” she said.

I wasn’t sure what she was after.

She reached out and grabbed my cock and held it in her hand.

“You drank a lot at the bar,” she said.

“Not too much. A few drinks.”

“Have you peed even once today, Daddy?”

Now I knew where she was going.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” she said, a certain neediness in her voice.

I closed my eyes, relaxed, and let go.

She shook her tits and spread her legs wide as I drenched her in the warm stream from her chin down to her twat.

“That’s right, Daddy,” she said, “I’m such a slutty, cum-hungry, whore.”

I looked down at her, dripping wet, and said, “Ah, the Fountain of Youth!”

When I was done, we turned on the warm water and took turns washing and worshipping each other.

When we finally got in bed she said, “Use me, Daddy. Use me however you want. Treat me like your little fuck-doll.”

I had her on the bed just like I did in the morning. I slid in her puss only briefly and then went back to her other hole, filling her from tip to balls.

“Mmmmm, yes. Hold me down. I like that. Slap my ass. Slap my puss. Slap me. Hold me down. Hurt me. Make it hurt! Make me yours again, Daddy. I’ve been so bad today. I just want to be yours. Yours. Make me stop whoring around town. Make me good again. Make me so sore I can’t even walk. Make me stop searching for cock. Make me good again.” She went on like that the entire time I fucked her until I was nearly ready to cum – finally after a full day of teasing and edging, watching her degrade herself for me and for others, in private and in public. Finally, I was ready to explode with all that pent-up jealousy, desire, rage, ravage, revenge, lust, love, and “Lo!” I called out as I was about to erupt.

She quickly hopped off my rod and spun around, opening her mouth wide and accepting the offering I emitted like a parched nomad in the desert desirous of every last drop of life-giving liquid. She wrapped her mouth around my cock and sucked, encouraging me to continue cumming until I could stand no more.

I fell down on the bed next to her and immediately lost consciousness, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Thank You Daddy

Autoerotica

Posted on September 19, 2019 by Lola Down

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

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

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

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

I walked in and removed my jacket and tie.

“What you up to?” I inquired.

“I bet you’d like to know.”

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

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

“I’m already hard,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She writes The Lustful Empress.”

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

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

I resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My date.”

“Date?”

“With Robert. I told you, didn’t I?”

I just looked dumbfounded.

“We’re going to the movies.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And what are you seeing?”

“The Favourite.”

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

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

“Really? Not a porno?”

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

“I knew it!”

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

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

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

“So why are you going to see it?”

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

“And?”

“And probably to fuck in a dark theater.”

“Don’t get caught.”

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

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

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

“Who?”

“TJ, the woman from the blog.”

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

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

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

We read and looked at the photos together.

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

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

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

“Oh boy,” I said, “You want her.”

Lo bit her lower lip.

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

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

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

“What time is your movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

I got up and looked at her in the shower.

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

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

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

“Lo, now you’re just. . .”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Tall Drink of Water

Posted on September 10, 2019 by Lola Down

“Can I come over?”

“Yes, please do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

I left the room.

Hot & Cold

Posted on September 1, 2019 by Lola Down

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

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

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

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

“I never said I didn’t like it.”

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

“And who might that be?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” asked Lo, intrigued. “Why?”

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

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

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

“Slutty?”

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

“Use it,” she commanded.

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

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

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

“OK,” said Robert. “You’re a slut.”

“Yesss,” said Lo.

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

Now she was touching herself.

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

“Am I. . . ?”

“Are you jacking off? Stroking yourself?”

“No,” he said, as if offended.

“Why not?”

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

“You didn’t?”

“No. I. . .”

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

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

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

“You did?”

“Yessss,” she said.

“Why?”

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

“Yes.”

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

“I, I, I,” Robert stammered.

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

“I did,” he admitted.

“Good. Which pic is it?”

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

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s beautiful.”

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

“Yes.”

“Are you stroking your cock?”

“Yes.”

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

“If you want me to.”

“I do.”

“OK.”

“Do it and send me the pics.”

“OK.”

“And Robert.”

“Yes?”

“What am I?”

“A dirty, filthy slut.”

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

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

“Thanks,” I said.

“For what?” she said.

“For making me cum,” I said.

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

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

Compersion

Posted on August 31, 2019 by Lola Down

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

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

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

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

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

“No, Daddy, never.”

Her lies are transparent.

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

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

She said in her sultry, seduction voice:

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

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

‘That’s exploitation,’ he said.

‘Not if she likes it,’ I said.

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

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

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

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

‘What are you talking about?’

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

‘What?!’ he asked, shocked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

“I do.”

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

“You didn’t!”

“I did, Daddy. That’s when I got up.”

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘What’s that?’

‘You,’ he said.

‘Me?’ I asked.

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

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

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

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

‘Yes,’ he said.

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

“How extraordinarily pompous of you!” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought I looked angelic.”

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

NILF

Posted on August 28, 2019 by Lola Down

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

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

“Why just OK?”

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

“Toys with you?” Lo’s ears perked up.

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

“We Skype with each other once a week.”

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

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

“I’m sure,” responded Lo.

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

“I knew it!”

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

“Do you like to watch?” interrupted Lo.

“What?”

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

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

“Do you reciprocate?”

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

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

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

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

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

Robert laughed at the suggestion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you, sweetheart?”

“I missed you, Daddy.”

“What about Robert?”

“Out like a light.”

“And you?”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I a good NILF or bad?”

“It doesn’t matter, dear.”

“Why not?” she asked, puzzled.

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

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

“Owe!” he lamented, “Aspirin!”

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

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

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

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

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

Robert was speechless.

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

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

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you mind sharing?”

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

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

Community Chest

Posted on August 22, 2019 by Lola Down

What’s black and white and read all over?

Recently our financial situation improved. In no small part, Lo’s getting a full-time job has certainly contributed to our recovering fiscal health. Now that we aren’t always scraping by to pay the rent or put food on the table, we actually have a little bit of money that we can set aside for a rainy day. So, trying to be the responsible adults we pretend to be, we created a joint savings account. I know, nothing says sexy like money in the bank. Walking home from the bank, feeling a sense of accomplishment, I said to Lo, “We’ll call our account ‘The Community Chest.’”

“Community Chest! – That’s what they called me in college!” she blurted out with a smile.

I thought she was joking and said as much.

“No,” she said, “that’s really what they called me. There’s a long story there that I’ll tell you when we get home,” she said, grabbing hold of my hand and pressing her palm into mine.

When we got home, I started to make myself a sandwich in the kitchen. “So,” I said to her, “what’s the story from college?”

“What story?” Lo asked, playing dumb. She loves to tease me and see that she has succeeded in piquing my interest.

“You know what story,” I said, taking out the pickles, “the ‘Community Chest’ story.”

She reached down and slid her hands from her waist up and under her bust, pushing upwards so that her cleavage bulged out of the neckline of her black tank top. “You like, Daddy?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I want to hear the story.”

“Kiss them,” she instructed.

I wagged my pickle at her (literally, no pun), and said, “Look here, Lo, if you’re trying to get me to hop in the sack with you and forego this lovely lunch I’ve just made, you’re in for some disappointment.”

“I’ll be your lunch,” she said, standing up, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the kitchen floor. She stood in her little black lace panties and her black boots.

“Lola,” I said plaintively.

“You know,” she paused and thought and then said, “I’m hungry too.” She sauntered over to the fridge like a stripper on the stage. She bent over, putting her ass in the air, standing on her tiptoes, and took a long look at the contents. “I know what I want to eat,” she said, turning and walking toward me.

“Lo. Lo, I see that look in your eye. Lo.”

It was no use. She dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor. She undid my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, pulled them down, pulled out my hard cock and filled her mouth with meat.

“Fuck my face,” she asked, looking up at me. “Put your hands here,” she said, moving my hands to her head, “and push me, use me, fuck my mouth.” I followed instructions. “Harder, Daddy!” she said before I forced her back on my rod. I had passed the point of no return and soon I was filling her up as she ravenously swallowed all I gave her. It all happened in the matter of a few moments. Then she got up, took my plate with the sandwich that I had so carefully prepared, and sat at the table, taking a big bite of it. “Mmmmmm,” she said, “can I have a glass of seltzer to go with this?”

“Lo! That was my sandwich!” I rebuked as I pulled up my jeans.

“I just wanted a bite. Here you have it.”

“No, it’s yours,” I said dejectedly as I got her a drink.

“No, I feel bad. Have half.”

“Fine.” I sat across from her and we ate. “Now, tell me the story.”

“Well,” she began, chewing, “you remember Ryan?”

“No, I don’t remember Ryan.”

“Ryan, the boy from college.”

“I’m going to need a little more to go on than that. There were a lot of boys from college.”

“I told you about how one night after watching a movie in a friend’s dorm, he and I crashed there on the sectional couch.”

“I vaguely recall that.”

“You just want me to tell you again.”

“Indulge me.”

“Well, we got to talking in hushed tones about sex.”

“And who initiated that topic?” I asked sarcastically.

“He was curious about my masturbatory practices,” she said, ignoring my question. “I told him that I jill it once a day – at least.”

“Oh yes, I remember that story now.”

“Well, there’s more to it than that. Come to the bedroom and I’ll tell you the rest.”

I followed her sexy ass to the bedroom, got naked, and climbed into bed with her.

She got on her back and spread her legs. Putting her hand down there, under the covers, she continued in breathy tones. “I was masturbating under the covers, like I am now, as I talked to him in the dark. I imagined that he was masturbating too. I asked him about his girlfriend – someone I didn’t really know. He said that he wasn’t too happy with her and I asked him why he didn’t break up with her. He said, ‘because she gives really good blowjobs.’ I said, ‘Oh yeah? Tell me how you like it.’ He told me about what she does, adding, ‘but I don’t think she really enjoys it.’”

Lo was pulling on her nipples now and squirming in the sheets.

“I was sad to hear that.”

“I’m sure you were broken up about it,” I added full of sarcasm.

“I told him, ‘You should try getting a blowjob from someone who really enjoys it.’”

“Did you give him one?”

“I really really wanted to.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“But he was too shy.”

“Too shy?!”

“Or something. Maybe he felt bad cause of the girlfriend. Whatever the reason, I didn’t get to give it to him. I just masturbated till I came. After that night, there were many nights when I’d be in my dorm, chatting on Facebook, and he’d pop up and quickly turn the chat into something sexual.”

“So you had virtual sex with him?”

“You could say that.”

“But that still doesn’t explain how you got the nickname.”

“I’m getting there. Give me a minute,” she said as she climaxed.

I waited for the waves of pleasure to subside.

She flipped over and lifted her ass up. “Fuck me, Daddy, and I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”

“Lo, you just blew me in the kitchen.”

“Come on! You can do better than that. Can’t you get it up again?”

Her belittling comments didn’t help the situation.

“Get behind me and fuck me,” she demanded.

I got behind her, but I wasn’t hard. She reached under the bed and passed me her glass dildo. “Use this for now,” she instructed. I slid the smooth, hefty sculpture into her slippery puss and she continued talking in spurts.

“He was a gamer and I think he told his nerdy friends about me. Soon they were inviting me over their dorm rooms to play with them. They each wanted me to jiggle their joysticks.”

“I bet they did.”

“They were all computer geeks and none of them had much sexual experience. Anyhow, I didn’t actually do anything with them.”

“Nothing?” I asked in disbelief.

“Not much, but they made up stories about me. They each claimed that they fucked me and so they began calling me the community chest, bragging that they each made a deposit.”

“And you let them get away with that?”

“Let them, I got off on it.”

All this time I was almost mechanically pushing and pulling the glass object in and out of her puss as she was backing up and pulling forward on her hands and knees. Now she said, “Harder, Daddy. Pay attention to what you’re doing!”

I tried to give more attention to her puss, but I had more questions for her. “So,” I asked, “what did you do with them?”

“Well,” she said, ramping up again, “like I said, they didn’t have much sexual experience and when I did try to blow one of them he. . .” she broke off and began her howling orgasm.

I pulled the dildo out from her and she squirted, involuntarily, all over the sheets. She thrust her hands between her legs, trying to stop the sprinkler, and she exclaimed, “Wow! I feel like a fucking Slip-n-Slide!”

“You’re more fun,” I said.

Collapsing in the bed when she was done, I brought a towel over and applied it between her legs and to the sheets. I asked her again, “What happened?”

“I squirted,” she said, annoyed at my ignorance.

“No, silly. I mean, what happened with the geek?”

“Oh, well, I was on my knees and I unzipped his pants, but when I opened up his fly, I saw that he had already cum. I said to him, ‘Let me blow you. You can take my tits out of my top and suck on them,’ but he was so embarrassed that he just zipped up and left.”

“And the thought of that made you cum just now?” I asked.

“No,” she said, “the thought of making all of his friends cum the night that I went over there to play video games and they watched me finger myself – that made me cum.”

“Tell me that story.”

“Another time, Daddio, when I actually have a shot of getting fucked by you,” she said, closing up shop for the day.

mysexlifewithlola

The trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.

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