Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper

[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]

In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.

And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.

It was Sunday and it was hot!  Hot and humid.  There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets.  Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before.  Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting.  I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.

All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.

Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.

Hot Lola on a hot night

I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.

Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.

“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”

“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.

“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”

“I need something to get me up.”

“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.

Would this get you up in the morning?

“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”

“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”

Suddenly we heard a knock.

“What was that?” I asked.

Lo shrugged her shoulders.

Another knock.

“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door.  Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.

I opened the door a crack.  A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.

“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom.  I live across the way, over yonder.”  He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.

“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard.  I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great!  We’ll be over in about an hour.”

“Sure thing ma’am.  Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”

I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.

“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”

“Yes.  Why not, Daddy?”

“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”

She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.

“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”

After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house.  There was a gate around the backyard.

“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.

“It’s the law,” I said.  “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”

“Ah, I get it.”

We walked into the enclosed backyard.  By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.

There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini.  Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?

“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.

“Hi,” they almost grunted back.

“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked.  “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”

One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.

“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked.  They were in shorts and t-shirts.

“What?”

“Get naked,” she said plainly.

They did as she said.  They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.

Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.

She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.

“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.

The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders.  His cock was very close to Lo’s face.

During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool.  No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”

When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.

“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”

“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.

“Jerk off!  Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”

Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her.  That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.

She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.

She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.

She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string.  Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.

She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.

Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.

First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin.  She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.

When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water.  The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.

“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”

They all dove in right quick.  They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.

“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool.  “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.

“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.

“Suit yourself.”

“More than I can say your suiters have on!”

“Huh?  Oh.  Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.

After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink.  They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo.  Ain’t that a twist?

Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”

“Clothes?  Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice.  Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.

“You sure are.”

“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”

“You got that right,” said one of the guys.  When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.

One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.

“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie.  I’m good at goaltending.”

“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper.  And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”

“No balls!  Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”

“Call what – baseball bats?”

“Yeah!”

“Again, wrong sport.”

“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”

Touché!” I called.

The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola.  They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.

Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands.  It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands.  She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.

We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back.  The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”

“Hey!” she called.

“What?  You’re down.”

“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop?  Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.

Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.

“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a penalty.”

“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.

Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.

“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.

“Gatekeeper?  I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”

“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet.  I’ve been gatekeeping.”

“You want praise for that?  It’s COVID times.  You know that.”

“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”

“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.

But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.

We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs.  It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.

Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it.  I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books.  So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it?  But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down.  Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!

Anti-Lola

Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography.  One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff.  I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”

Pro-Lo

To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola.  They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.

It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle.  The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.

The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up!  In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect.  The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.

Lola on the News

“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window.  “Oh shit!” she said.

“What?” asked one of the guys.

“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”

There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.

“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”

The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”

We filled him in.  He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob.  I was quite worried.  All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.

“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.

Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club.  It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.

He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.

“Sure,” she said.

“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day.  I was just doing my job.”

“I understand.”

Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.

Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.

“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”

“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”

“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”

“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo.  “Would you like to see?”  She asked, looking over at the empty stage.

“My own personal show?”

“Yeah.  Can you put on some music?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Got any Rihanna?”

“Anything you want.”

“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”

Hagrid put it on.  As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me?  What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.

“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.

“Thanks,” said Lo.  “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”

“What happened?”

“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.  We’d treat you right.”

“Oh yeah?  How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.

Hagrid was unfazed.  He works in a strip club.

 

It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good

And I can’t get enough

Must be love on the brain.

 

The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat.  Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.

“We treat the girls right.  I can assure you of that.”

Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass.  Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”

“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo.  “My younger sister strips here.”

“What?!  No way?”

“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.

“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.

“Why should she?” he asked, naively.

“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”

“Whatever,” he said.  “I see her naked and more at home.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”

“Really?”

“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”

“You both live with your parents?”

“No, we have an apartment together.”

“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”

“Yeah.  Cheaper that way.”

“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”

“All the time.  And women.”

“In her room?”

“In her room, with the door open.  In the living room.  In the kitchen.  It doesn’t really matter to her.”

“I’ve got to meet this woman!”

“You already have.”

“What?!”

“Yeah.  The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”

“She’s your sister?!”

“Yep.”

Hagrid looked at his phone.

“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.

“How’s that?”

“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”

“What?!  We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man.  Double standard?  You better believe it.

Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.

Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.

“You!” said the little sister.

“You!” said Lo right back at her.  It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?  But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp.  Who is who?  Does it matter?

Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.

Luna Lovegood/Evanna Lynch

The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me.  He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.

“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.

“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt.  “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”

Evanna Lynch

“Whatever,” said Hagrid.

Evanna Lynch

The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment.  It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room.  The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly.  The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch.  The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it.  There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.

On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.

“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.

“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna.  “He’s a grown man.”

“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.

I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.

“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”

“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.

“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.

“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.

“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here.  They know her.  They know all about her.  To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”

“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig.  Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.

“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class.  You’re from the city.  You’re not from around here.”

“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom.  “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”

“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”

“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”

“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.

I played dumb.  Lo spread her legs.  Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.

She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”

“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.

“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”

“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.

“You can have it,” continued Luna.  “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.

“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.

“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.

Luna put out her hand.  “A hundred.”

“What?!”

“It will cost you.  One Benjamin.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”

“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.

“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”

“I don’t have a hundred.”

“What do you have?”

He pulled out his wallet.  He opened it.  He looked in.  “A twenty.”

Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened.  “It’s a deal.”

Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.

Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen.  The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.

“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.

“Sure,” I said.

“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.

Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”

“Perfect,” said Lo.

As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations.  The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.

“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.

“Pretty much every night she dances.”

“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”

Hagrid laughed a little.  “You saw how little she weighs.  She barely pulls that weight.  All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka.  “And drugs.”

“That’s too bad.”

Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early.  It’s out of his control.

“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.

“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple.  Lo here, she’s. . .”

“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.

“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.

“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”

“Fuck!  Fuck!  Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.

“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake.  The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.

“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked.  Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat.  “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.”  It was hot in that shack.  No AC.

“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.

Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.  She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.

Luna downed it in one gulp.  “More,” she said.  Was she talking to Lo or Tom?

Lo filled up the glass again.

“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.

She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.

“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo.  Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.

“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.

“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.

Luna just gave him her middle finger.

“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder.  It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.

“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her.  “It’s still in you.”

“Forget the condom.  Fuck my ass.”

“I don’t have another one.”

“FUCK. MY. ASS.”

The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.

“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.

“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”

“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”

“ATV or. . . ?”

“We’ll take my pickup truck.”

“Wait!” said Luna.  “I want to go with you.”

The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.

“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.

“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.

“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.

“Because, I want to go.”

“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”

Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.

Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.

“Works every time,” said Luna.

“What does?” asked Lo.

“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”

Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth.  I couldn’t help but think, “Wow!  What a Lola move!”

When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.

Why were all of us in the back seat?  Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.

Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap.  Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.

“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.

“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.

“Fuck you!” said Luna.

Luna spread her legs.  Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass.  Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them.  She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself.  But then she pulled out her hand.

“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom.  She tossed it out the window with a laugh.

We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.

“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.

“No problem.  Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.

“Will do!”

“Thanks!  Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.

“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits.  “Stay slutty!”

“You know I will!”

Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.

The End

Lola Down – Cover Girl

 

COVID Birthday

“Happy birthday!” said Lo in a sing-song tone.

Lola’s Gifts

I rolled over.  It was early.  Earlier than Lo gets up in the morning.  She wanted to make the day special for me since she knew that we couldn’t have a party or celebrate in any way that resembled birthdays past.

“Wanna have birthday sexy?” she said, rubbing her large breasts up against my bare back in bed, swinging her right leg up and over my hip and sliding her pussy up and down my hip.

“Not now,” I said like a real ingrate.

“Oh, don’t be like that.  Let’s get it on.  You’ll be the oldest person I ever fucked.  Again.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah.  Why?”

“Just checking.”

I slid my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.  I sat for a while contemplating the day before me.  I’m not a very social or sociable person.  That’s Lo’s department.  But this COVID thing did drive home just how much I actually enjoy being with people.

This year there would be no party, no rowdy crowd, now carousing.  Just a few cards.  Maybe a phone call or two.  I had already told Lo, absolutely NO Zoom party.

I stood up slowly and made my way to the bathroom.

“Leave it open!” Lo called, as usual.  She has a fetish for seeing a man pee.

I shut the door behind me.

When I emerged from the privy, I found Lo on the bed, legs spread, finger placed between her labia.

“Ready Daddio?”

“Not now, Lo.”

She rolled over and stuck her bum in the air.  “Birthday spanking?”

I patted her behind gently as I walked by it, exiting the bedroom to go make my coffee.

It was a weekday and so I went through my usual morning routine to get ready for work.

Lo, to my surprise, got dressed and was ready to go out the door before I was.

“Forget to buy a card?” I asked sarcastically.  It was cruel.

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m going to buy a condolence card since you seem to be set on mourning everything you don’t have.”

She left and I suddenly felt very alone.  Having Lo around to spout off my spoiled whining to was better than having no one around.

I ate breakfast, got dressed, hopped in the car, and drove to the office.

There would be no one at the office, again, thanks to COVID.  Everyone was working remotely.

I climbed the stairs to the floor that my office is on and turned to walk down the long hall to it when, looking up, I saw that the door to my office was open and, sitting there, framed by the doorway, was a sexy blonde wearing, it appeared, nothing but her black facemask.

I practically rubbed my eyes thinking I was still dreaming.  Was this a femme fatale straight out of a fifties’ movie?  Was I going to walk up to my office and she’d sit there, light a long cigarette in an even longer black filter, and speak to me in a sultry voice?  “Mr. H.  I would like to hire you to sue my husband.  It’s a hard case.  Do you like it when it’s hard?  I know I do.”

I walked slowly down the silent hallway.  Her eyes were trained on mine.  I got to the doorway.  She uncrossed her legs and spread them wide.  I could see now she was wearing merely an extreme micro bikini.  I stopped at the threshold.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Happy birthday, Mr. H,” she replied.

Before I could ask how she knew it was my birthday, how she got into my office, or even who she was, she added, “Why don’t you come inside and shut the door behind you so we can have some privacy?”

I took a step in and closed the door.  It was then that I saw, inside my office, just out of sight from the doorway, was Lola, sitting in the waiting room chair.  Oh, thank God!

“Lola,” I said in my Ricky Ricardo voice.

“Hi Daddy!  Surprised?”

“What’s going on here?”

“This is Candie.  She’s a strip- er. . . exotic dancer, and she’s here to perform for you.”

“For me?”

“Well, for us.”

Candie stood up and just smiled.  She stood in the middle of the reception area on the hardwood floor in her tall stripper heels.

Lo turned on some music, Candie’s playlist, I imagine.

 

 

I smell sex and candy here
Who’s that lounging in my chair
Who’s that casting devious stares
In my direction

Mama this surely is a dream

Very appropriate, especially since her long blonde hair did smell like candy – cotton candy.  I sat down in the leather club chair where Lo had been and enjoyed the show.  She danced for a bit in her teeny-bikini, and then the top came off.  I saw her nipples were very hard.  That’s when I realized it was chilly in the office.  Lo had opened the windows to keep the air circulating.  Can’t be too careful.

To my surprise, Candie’s bottoms, what little there were of them, also came off.  As they did, Lo found her way to me and slid me out of my jeans.  She reached down to see how hard I was.  Very.  She got between my legs and went down on my rod like it was her candy.  I put up no resistance.

Lo looked up at me and said, “You like, Daddy?”

I looked down at her and said, “I do.  But I’d rather have you.”

That didn’t take much convincing.  Lo stood up and, as if she were on stage with Candie, removed her blouse, bra, skirt, and panties.  She kept her heels on.  Then she sat on my lubricated lingam and I eased into her dripping yoni.  She was facing away from me, toward Candie.  Lo put her right hand down to her crotch and made small circles on her clit while gently rising and lowering, as if riding a horse English style.  Candie was clearly performing for Lola and only secondarily for me.  She seemed to like what she saw and, judging from how wet Lo was, Lo enjoyed Candie’s performance just as much.

Candie sat on the floor and diddled her own pink parts.  Her breasts were small and perky.  She was probably Lo’s age or maybe a little younger.  She was confident in her performance.  I whispered in Lo’s ear, “Where’d you find her?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” said Lo.

“I am older, today!”

“Sit back and enjoy the show.”

I did just that.  I was too self-conscious to cum.  But Lo wasn’t.  Thank goodness the chair was leather and the floor hardwood.  Easy clean-up.

When her performance was over, Candie again wished me a happy birthday and thanked Lo.  She said, “I haven’t worked in months.  This was really helpful.  And I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

She got dressed as Lo used paper towels and all-purpose cleaner on the chair and floor.

Candie let herself out, wearing a long leather trench coat like a character out of The Matrix.

“Well, well, well,” I said to Lo.  “Do you have any more surprises up your sleeve for me today?”

“You’ll have to take off all my clothes again to find out.”

“All your clothes are off!!!”

“Does it look like I have anything up my sleeve?”

“I imagine you have more creative places to hide my birthday gifts.”

Southern Comfort

[The mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” continues from “Asses Up” with a story of reuniting lovers.]

Lola’s Nectarine

 

There we were, the six of us, finally, all together.  Lo and Lily, naked as water nymphs wading in the blue lake.  Collin, a seeming avuncular benefactor to his young niece and her attractive friend.  Suzanne, sitting bemused by her husband’s masochistic tendencies.  Oh, and the two dogs, Shadow and Bandit, lounging in the warm sun, too lazy to bark at Jim and me as we approached the backyard, they merely lifted their heads and looked over with expressions of mild curiosity mixed with ennui.

After Lola had greeted me and Lily greeted Jim, the two of them had made proper introductions of me to Suzanne since, as of yet, I had never met her.  I could see a spark of interest in her eye as I shook her hand politely and Lo showed me off like a prize on a game show.  I didn’t want to be Suzanne’s prize.  I just wanted to be unwrapped by Lo.

I greeted “Uncle Collin” with an external warmth and “manly” handshake that masked my deep-seated antipathy toward him.  Collin and Suzanne were hospitable, offering us lunch, cold drinks, and to change clothes if we wished to enjoy the lake.

I didn’t know how to say, “Can you all please just allow Lola and me some private time to ourselves before we join you?”  So I didn’t say that.  Not to mention, Lo seemed quite content with making me suffer by continuing my physical deprivation of her body and my mental agony of seeing her show off her assets before my nemesis, Collin.

As I said, Lo and Lily waded into the placid lake as Jim and I sat on lounge chairs, tall Gin and Tonics by our sides, making small talk with Collin and Suzanne.  “How was the ride?”  “What the hell’s happening in the big city?”  “Have you heard all the adventures that we’ve been up to here?”

That last question, spoken in his boisterous tone by Collin, landed like a grenade in my lap.  I wanted to say, “Yeah, I heard about how you have been living out all your fantasies of seducing girls one-third your age, one of whom is your niece no less!”

I suppose this was a writer’s karma coming back to bite me since a while back I had written lurid, lengthy passages about The Nutcracker and Clara’s relationship with her Uncle Drosselmeyer.  Here, life was imitating my art (or philosophical musings) as Uncle Collin played the prurient host to titillate Lo with his perfectly choreographed vignettes of vice.  Of course, that’s not the way Lo saw things.  According to her, Collin was a perfect gentleman, showering upon her all the kindness and attention that she rightfully deserved.  Vanity skews reality terribly.

The girls sat down on their towels in the sun as Jim, Collin, and I sat in chairs.  We were all facing out toward the lake.  Collin offered to get the girls another drink.  Lo asked for a tall glass of ice water in addition to another G&T.  It seems to me that there is an unwritten rule that women must do things in pairs, never solo, and so Lily also asked for a tall glass of water on the side.

I tried to be a good guest and offered to help Collin, but he turned me down and encouraged me to “get reacquainted” with Lola.

Suzanne returned with a tray of drinks.  In her absence, she apparently changed into a skimpy outfit.  Not quite nude, but not hiding anything either.  The dogs were dutifully by her side.

Lola accepted the drinks graciously and then Jim and Lily got up to play a game of horseshoes on the lawn.  Lola remained, sitting on her towel across from me.  She sat up and bent her knees, displaying her crotch to me.

“Hot today,” she said with a seductive sip of her straw.

She pulled out an ice cube from her glass and ran it over her lips, under her chin, down her neck, over her nipple, and down to her crotch, over her clit and, eventually, slipped it right in her cunt.

“That feels goooood,” she said.  “Miss me?”

I was practically drooling as I looked at her.

She repeated her performance with another ice cube, delighting in my discomfort.

Then she took the remaining four or five ice cubes out of the cup and slipped them into her pussy.

“Do you want to play, Daddy?” she asked.

“Play what?” I queried.

“A game,” she said ambiguously.  She then crawled on all fours toward me and, when she got right between my legs as I sat in my lawn chair, she kneeled in front of me and put her elbows on my knees and looked up at me.  She said, “I missed you.”

It was nice to hear those words from her mouth.  But I shouldn’t have been fooled.  She was not being sweet, she was being sexy.  Just after the words I longed to hear dripped off her lips, the ice cubes she had been harboring inside her hot snatch dropped from her sopping pussy onto the grass.

“Whoops,” she said.  “I guess I’m not as tight as I used to be.”

“I’m interested in seeing our sleeping quarters,” I said to her.

“Oh, Daddy, you’re in such a rush.  Let’s enjoy the weather while it’s still sunny out.”  She could see my raging hard-on through my shorts and she said, “I’ll make it all up to you later.”

“I’m not going to enjoy anything until I hear about your time here.”

She knew what I meant by hearing about her time.  Our special pillow talk.

“Oh, Daddy, it’s been so much fun!” she almost squealed.  “I wish we could go back and do everything again with you!”

“What did you do?”

“You’ll hear all about it tonight.  But right now, let’s make some new memories together.”

She got up and Suzanne called us to join the others to eat.  Lola and Lily put on some skimpy shreds of fabric and we headed up for a late lunch.

They had grilled out on the deck and I was famished.

As we sat around the table in the backyard, I tried to tamp down how much I despised Collin and did my best to avoid the flirtations that I perceived from Suzanne.

“It’s too bad you couldn’t join us, H,” said Collin in his booming voice that made everything he said sound like a brag.  “You would have really enjoyed it.  I think the girls did.”

“The girls?” I thought.  Such a chauvinist.  Where was Lo’s feminist streak?  I guess it washed off in the lake or she shed it while streaking around the back yard.

“But don’t think I spoiled them,” he continued.  “Oh no.  I made them work for their room and board.  I think Lo might have even developed blisters on her hands from the effort.”

“Is that so?” I asked, turning to Lo.  “Let me see the palms of those delicate hands.”

Lo showed me her hands and said, “I had to tug and squeeze and pull and yank, just to get a little bit of cream.  But the taste was sooooo rich and sweet that it was totally worth it.”

“Did you churn it as well?” I asked, playing along with her.

“I sure did.  I churned it until all that cream turned to butter.”

“I bet you did.  Golden, sweet butter.  I can’t wait to taste it.”

“And my peach?!”

“Peaches,” I corrected her.  “You picked more than one, didn’t you?”

“There’s only one worth having,” she said.  “But did I say peach?  I meant, nectarine.”

Collin served up the burgers, steak, veggie kabobs, and Suzanne brought out the salad and more drinks.

“Isn’t he a darling?” asked Suzanne to Lola with reference to me.  She had a barely perceptible southern drawl that came out more pronounced in her question.

“I see now,” said Lo, “he is just the darlingest darling.”  Her voice was conveying a lot of latent content, most of it hostile to both me and Suzanne.

Suzanne was fluttering around, clearly trying to impress in what was basically her lingerie as she attended to Jim and me.  After five days of being a recluse in her room, suddenly Suzanne was eager be the life of the party.  She vigorously mixed our martinis in the shaker above her head like a bartender straight out of Cowboy Ugly.  She bent over to pour out the drinks into the fancy, handmade, delicate glasses.  She strutted her stuff in heels across the slate floor and generally put on a Lola-worthy performance.  It afforded me a glimpse into the life of Lola in twenty years (when I’m either dead or in the old-age home).

She had been friendly, in a cordial way, to Lo and Lily, but now she was flirty, vivacious, and playing the role of the vixen.

Collin watched with a just perceptible look of perturbance on his face.  Not outright scorn or contempt, but a subtle disapproval of her behavior.  Who was he, though, to call her out?

After a few drinks, I stopped avoiding the unwelcome attention of Suzanne and began to  enjoy it to the exact degree that it annoyed Lola to witness.  And the more I displayed my pleasure at Suzanne’s doting over me, the more Lola was visibly disturbed by the spectacle.

Jim was only slightly less distraught than Lo due to Suzanne’s uninvited flirtation.  Lily paid her no mind, as if Suzanne was merely a summer fly that had to be tolerated, but couldn’t ruin all the other benefits of the great outdoors.  We sat around the deck sipping our drinks in the afternoon sun, which made the already potent concoctions even more powerful.  I was pacing myself, but I noticed that for every drink the rest of us downed, Suzanne had pounded two.

Soon afternoon had turned to early evening and Collin lit the fire pit.

It was as if a switch had flipped in Suzanne’s head and without warning her hospitality and flirtation transposed into hostility and vindictiveness, aimed mostly at Collin.

“What do you think, Collin,” she taunted with spite, “should I take H here on a trip to the hotel?  Strip him down naked, and enjoy some eye-candy?  Would you like that?  Maybe he would like this?” she said, rubbing her hands over her hips.  What had seemed charming and attractive just a little while ago, now, with the admixture of too much alcohol, appeared to me rather disgraceful and repugnant.

For the first time since I met him, Collin was visibly uncomfortable, not in control of the situation, and at a loss.

“That’s enough of that,” he said to Suzanne, feigning power, but revealing fear.  “Tell me, H, of this big case that kept you away this week,” he said to me, trying to steer our attention away from his wayward wife.

“Yes, H, tell us,” Suzanne said, stealing the spotlight again.  “Did you press your point hard?  I bet you have such an interesting job.  Not just vicariously getting animals to live your life for you.”

I let out a nervous laugh and said, “It’s actually quite boring.”

“Boring?!” squealed Lo.

“Of course, I don’t mean you.  I mean work.”

“See, Collin, how he adores her?” Suzanne tossed in his face.

“That’s enough,” began Collin.

“And he doesn’t even hold it against her that she’s a little slut for you.”

“Hey,” I said, feeling like I needed to come to the defense of Lola despite the fact that we’ve never before regarded the S-word as a slur.  But between us it isn’t meant as an insult.
“No, no,” said Collin, “let her talk.  Let her show you who and what she really is.”

Now it was getting very tense at the table and Lo, always the social lubricant, interrupted it to say she’d help clear the dishes.  She got up and grabbed a few plates from in front of us and sashayed toward the house.

“Can I get anyone anything while I’m up?” she asked over her shoulder.

Collin was busy staring down Suzanne.  Suzanne was busy staring at me.  Jim was suggesting to Lily that they go to bed and Lily excused herself to help Lola.  What an uncomfortable set of sexually frustrated friends.

“Collin, did you know that HH is a scholar of art history?” Lily asked, interrupting the thick silence.

“No, no I didn’t.  I thought he was a lawyer.”

“People can be more than one thing,” said Suzanne.

“Would you like to show him your art collection?” suggested Lily.

“An excellent idea,” said Collin, clearly eager to get out of the close quarters of the dining area turned battlefield and eager to show off more of his monetary prowess.

He took me by the arm and began showing me various second-rate paintings and sculptures that he had acquired over the years and haphazardly arranged around the house.  None of it was worth a quarter of what he had paid for it, I’m sure.

When we were done with our little tour, he led us back to the living room where Lo and Lily were whispering something.

It was set up like a little conversation pit with a fireplace and round leather couches.  When we got there, Suzanne followed with the two dogs in tow.  She started teasing them and roughhousing with them until she was on all fours and they were nipping at her playfully, yipping and yapping.

“These two,” she said, “have been so jealous for my attention ever since you arrived.”

“Suzanne!” called Collin.  “Please!”

“They are so jealous.  They can’t stand to have other males in the house.”

“Stop it!”

“Well, except for Collin, of course.  But he doesn’t count.”

The dogs were jumping, getting behind her and lifting their front paws.

“That’s why they’re so frisky,” she laughed.

“SUZANNE!!!” yelled Collin.  This time Suzanne, clearly inebriated, merely laughed hysterically at the playful pets.

Just then there was a startling CRASH from behind us.

Suzanne & Bandit

Holding On Comes Easy

[Continued from “Lusting for Infidelity“]

Lola and Imogen had gone to bed together, leaving Robert and me alone in the kitchen.  He looked over to me quizzically and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Oh well.  May the best man win – and this time it was a woman.”

I looked back at him, smirked, and said, “Join me for a drink?”

He put down the towel with which he was drying the dishes, pulled out two tumblers from the cupboard, got some ice and pulled out a bottle of scotch.  He poured a glass for me and one for him.  A heavy pour.  I looked at the bottle and said to him, “Eighteen-years-old.  Old for a whisky, young for a woman.”

He laughed and we went outside by the fire.  Not without irony, we both got under the heavy wool blanket and were side-by-side on the outdoor couch, our feet warmed by the flames in front of us.  We were cozy next to each other, slowly sipping our drinks, laughing, and chatting as we gazed into the flickering light.

As I have mentioned, dear reader, prior to the whole ménage à trois with Lo, Robert and I were actually good friends and closely collaborating colleagues.  But ever since Lo literally and metaphorically came between us, we have grown apart.  It was good to share a drink, share a laugh, share a blanket, and share a bed with him without sharing Lo’s body for a change.

We got to talking about philosophy, art, and poetry.  In a reflective voice, I said to Robert: “We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go.  For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.”

“What’s that from?” he asked.

“Rilke’s ‘Requiem.’  One of his most beautiful poems,” I said.

We both pondered the words in silence when, out of the darkness, who should appear but Lo, bare-assed as the day she was born.  She was tiptoeing toward us.

“Isn’t this cute,” she said, looking at the two of us, “two penises in a pod.”

“That’s not the expression,” I said.

“Shut up and make room for me,” she said, “it’s freezing out.”

Robert and I each moved to our respective sides and Lo nestled her naked body between the two of us.  “What are you two up to?” she asked, suggestively.

“Just reciting poetry,” said Robert.

“Really?!”

“Yes,” I said  “And what have you and Imogen been up to?”

“Nothing,” she said with a pout.  “She just fell right to sleep.  That’s why I’m here now.”

“Because you’re interested in reciting poetry by firelight under the stars?” I asked.

“What a romantic,” said Lo, rubbing my leg under the blanket.  “No, because I’m interested in seeing which one of you is going to cum first.  My money is on HH since he didn’t cum earlier.”

As she said this, she was reaching down my pants with her right hand and reaching down Robert’s pants with her left, fumbling for our firewood.

“My hands are so cold,” she said.  “Warm them up.”

Each of us loosened our belts and undid our pants so she could have an easier time creating friction for her chilly palms.  Her tits were exposed to the cool air and her nipples were hard.  She turned to Robert first and kissed him for a bit and then she turned to me and entwined her tongue with mine, never letting go of her twin possessions.

Soon both Robert and I were turned toward her, our rods pointing at her as she stroked them masterfully.  Robert was fondling her breasts and I was reaching down to her puss.  I could feel how wet she was.  She could feel how hard I was.  I know she felt my cock throbbing in her hand, ready to explode.  She held even more tightly.  Soon I was ejaculating in rhythmic spurts all over her hips.  When I was done, I stood up and let her lick me clean, allowing Robert to see my flaccid manhood in her mouth.  Then it was his turn and he covered her in his own icing as she gave him the attention he needed at the moment.  He imitated my actions by standing up to allow her lick the very last drops from his cock.

When she was done, she said, “I’m going to take a shower.  You two get naked and I’ll meet you in bed.”

Both Robert and I did as we were told and Lo arrived in bed soon thereafter.  Robert, who had cum twice that evening, was depleted.  I was no better.  Lo engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between the two of us.

Lusting for Infidelity

Lusting for Infidelity

[Continued from “A Little Side-Hustle“]

Luckily for me, Lo came to my rescue.  Just as Imogen was leaning in, her eyes locked with mine and her lips lusting for infidelity, her cleavage consciously hoisted to my attention, Lo suddenly appeared between us and said, “I could use your help now.”

Taken aback by the interruption, Imogen recoiled and looked bewildered at Lo who was crouching in front of the two of us.

“We’re moving the party outside,” said Lo, “Could you please help me with taking out some blankets and the desserts?”

Robert had a fireplace outside, the center of an alcove where he had set up an exterior living room with lounge chairs and couches.  Robert was getting the fire lit as Lo and Imogen carried the sweets outside along with warm coffee and strong drinks.

I was helping and at one point, as Lo and I were passing each other, her eyes stopped me in my tracks.  She looked wicked, wilily, and wanton.  What could that look mean?  I had no idea, but my guilty conscience led me to believe I was in deep trouble with her already.

When we were all outside, sitting around the fire, chatting, I deliberately tried to make conversation with anyone but Imogen.  But, pretty soon my small-talk options were reduced to one, for soon after dessert, the Aussie guests thanked their hosts – Robert and Lola – and departed.  All except Imogen.  What to do about Imogen?

Lo and Robert were lying down under a heavy blanket on one of the couches as Imogen and I were next to each other in two chairs.  I had one eye on Lo and one on Imogen, carefully treading and dreading my next move.  I could see Lo whisper something to Robert.  Then Robert asked me to help him clean up, saying, “Lo has done quite enough, the least we could do is chip in on the easy part.”  I welcomed his invitation and then he and I went inside to collect the dishes, glasses, serving trays, etc.  We were in the kitchen making some forced chit-chat while the ladies were outside.

The next thing I knew, the two of them came in and said they were going to bed in the master bedroom, leaving the two of us out in the cold.

The Dinner Party

[Continued from, “Feed it to Me.”]

“Daddy,” asked Lo, “if it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”

I raised my eyebrows as a confused bunch of emotions swirled in my mind.  Of course one of those emotions was arousal.  But there was also intrigue, surprise, befuddlement, and a twinge of hurt and even a sliver of jealousy.  Why wouldn’t she be ok with introducing me as her partner?  Why the rouse?  All of these thoughts flooded my mind, but then, at the flash of her pearly whites and her sexy red tongue gliding over them seductively, I could see that the real reason for the roleplay was because it excited her.

She liked the thought of taunting me, making me jealous, leaving me in the cold – the third-wheel as she got to be the center of attention.  So, what was I to do?  I capitulated and she gave me a devoted little peck on the cheek as a reward.

She practically danced back to Robert to give him the good news and I saw his face light up.  I imagine he has felt a bit awkward as a middle-aged single guy in a mostly coupled world.  And that awkwardness couldn’t have been diminished at all by coming to our house at all hours of the night for a booty call with Lola.  So, her little charade for the evening’s entertainment must have boosted his confidence.

“You know,” I said to Lo at one point before the guests arrived, “there’s a job for what you do.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, clearly delighted by her acting role.

“It’s called ‘girlfriend rental,’ or something like that.  I saw an article about it a while ago.  Men who don’t have girlfriends can hire a woman to be their date for a company function or even for Thanksgiving!”

“Hmmmmm, interesting,” she pondered, “a little side-hustle.”

Feed it to Me

Faye Danielles Getting Off to Lo’s Pics

 

“I’m having a dinner party on Friday,” said Robert to Lo as he was about to depart from one of his rendezvous romps with Lo in our bedroom.  She was standing naked in the hallway and I was opposite her, fully dressed, holding a tumbler of whiskey.  Robert was between us, but facing Lo.  “I was hoping you both would come,” he continued as he turned to me.

Lo walked up to him, a sparkle in her eye, and grabbed his arm.  “That sounds like fun,” she said, without even consulting me or my calendar.  “Who’ll be there?”

“It’s a group of colleagues from Australia.  They’re here for a conference and my department nominated me to welcome them.”

“Australia!” Lo exclaimed.  “I love going down under.”

“You’ve never been there,” I said, without thought to her double-entendre.

“I can’t wait,” she said without regard for my remark.  “What time is the party?”

“I’ve invited people for seven,” he said, and before he could say any more Lo interrupted.

“We’ll come over at five!  I love party planning!”

“But. . .” stammered Robert.  “I was just inviting you to. . .”

Lo grabbed his arm and said, “A bachelor like you needs help throwing a party.  Trust me.  It takes a woman’s touch.”  She leaned in closer to him and kissed him, her naked body pressed against his clothes as her left hand reached down and stroked his cock over his pants.  “We’ll see you at five.”

Robert turned, nodded to me, and left in a rush, slightly embarrassed perhaps.

Friday Lo left work early and spent time at home getting all dolled up.  By the time I walked through the door, she was wearing her black pumps, her short black skirt, and a low cut, tight fitting blouse.  Her red lipstick stood out against all the black.

“Hi Daddio!” she said, “I thought you’d never get home.  Are you ready to go?”

“I guess,” I said.

“Oh no,” she replied, looking me over.  “You can’t go like that.  Here, let me dress you.”

She led me to the bedroom where she promptly picked out exactly what she wanted me to wear.

“No, not that.  I can’t stand that shirt,” I said.

“It looks great on you.”

“It’s too constricting.”

“We can’t all wear sweats all the time you know.”

“Just anything but that.”

“Fine,” she said, picking out an equally disliked shirt.  I made no argument because I could see her determination.

“You just like me because I’m like you’re little plaything that you can dress up, take out, and show off,” I said.

“I could say the same about you, but I dress myself up, take myself out, and show myself off.”

“Touché.”

We left and Lo was very anxious and eager in the car.  She kept rubbing my crotch as I drove and talking about the party.  At some point I turned to her and said, “You know, Lo, it’s not planned to be a gangbang?”

“Who says?” she pouted.

We arrive just before five.  Robert had four grocery bags full of food on the kitchen table.  His plan included baking fish, a pasta side-dish, and a pie, as well as lots and lots of appetizers.  Lo dove in, but before getting to work, she said, “I don’t want to get my outfit dirty while prepping.”  She stripped down naked, but for her heels, and put on a cooking apron.  Where it tied in the back revealed her sexy sweet ass.  She was the picture of domestic bliss.

Lo was fast, efficient, and knew exactly what she wanted.  Both Robert and I fumbled to keep up with her.  But eventually we had everything laid out nicely, ready to receive Robert’s international cadre.

Surveying the open-plan living room and dining room, Lo seemed well pleased with her accomplishment, but then she said, “I just realized, I’m starving.”  Between the kitchen and the dining room there was a tall half-wall that had a number of appetizer dishes laid out on it.  Lo bent over and leaned on the wall, looking at the appetizers.  As she did, her right hand moved down, behind her cooking apron and to her ass where Robert, who stood behind her could see.  She added, “And I’m horny.  Robert, are you up to fuck me?” she asked as she slapped her ass loudly to get his attention, as if he wasn’t already staring at her cunt.

Without a word, as if her ass slap was a special language between them, he unbuckled his belt and pulled out his cock.  As he approached her from behind, she looked up at me and said, “Daddy, feed me.”

I was standing in the kitchen and saw her open her mouth.  I picked up one of the small hors-d’oeuvre’s and raised it to her lips.  She bit her lip as Robert entered her, but then she opened wide and took the whole thing.

“Feed me,” she commanded again as Robert was going at her from behind.

I selected a different delight for her.

Robert grabbed onto her waist.  I continued to feed her and I said, “Lo, you want me to make you plump?”

“Yes Daddy.  I want to be phat for you.  I want to be soft and doughy.”

I continued to feed her and Robert continued to fuck her.

“Lo,” I said as I watched her tum and tits jiggle beneath her as Robert thrusted from behind, “I love your fat, your flab, your rolls, your chub, your pudge, your every delightful round, juicy, plump, perfect curve.”

She came.  Then she said to me with a breathy voice, “Get me that.”

At first I didn’t know what “that” was, but she pointed.  It was a bottle of extra virgin olive oil.  I went to pass it to her, but she just held out her hand and said, “Pour.”  I put a little in the palm of her hand.  She reached back and applied it to her special spot.

“Robert,” she said, “You may have my ass now.”

Lo knew very well how, as permissive as I am, the granting of that one reserved pleasure makes me jealous.  I should be the one to get the benefit of her ass.  But I let her have her way.  He entered her slowly as she guided him with her slippery hand.  She moaned.  He said, “Lo, you’re so tight.”

“Feed me!” she commanded me again.  I obeyed.  By this point the cooking apron’s knot had come untied and was drooping beneath her, only held up by the collar around her neck.  Her tits were flopping forward and back as Robert thrust with strong movements deep in her ass.  I saw her hands grab onto the marble of the countertop as she braced for a powerful orgasm.  Robert began to moan loudly as he was on the cusp of cumming in her ass and Lo squeezed her knees together and held on tightly to the marble.  She squirted all over Robert’s legs and the floor as he pulled out.  Then Lo either decided or instinctively did something to get my ire up (and something else up).  She turned round rapidly and got on her knees to take Robert’s cock in her mouth and let him explode there.  She was still squirting on the floor in spurts and, when Robert finally pulled out of her hungry mouth, she collapsed in her own lady juices on the hardwood floor.  Her legs were like jelly now.  She squirted again as she said, “Holy fucking shit!” with both hands between her legs in a futile attempt to stem the flood.

Lola

Robert ran to the bathroom and got a few towels.  He and I both helped Lo up and onto the couch, careful to place another towel under her before setting her down.

Robert dutifully cleaned up the mess on the floor and I gently kissed Lo’s forehead until she had regained some of her strength.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Robert cheerfully.

I removed Lo’s wet shoes and got a few paper towels to dry them off and clean them up.

Soon enough everything was neat and tidy again.  Lo went to the bathroom to change back into her party outfit and spruce up a bit, leaving Robert and me alone.

“You know, you have an amazing woman,” he said.  “Not only is she a fucking crazy nympho, but she can cook and host a party.”

“She’s pretty smart, too,” I added.

“That goes without saying,” he replied.

When Lo returned to the room, she looked ravishing.  Even if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, her glow said, “I just got fucked beyond consciousness.”  Too bad she had already been ravished by Robert and the guests were due soon, meaning I would be hard up the rest of the evening.

While she and Robert were in the living room and I in the kitchen, she said something to him I couldn’t hear.  Then she came to me and was very demure.

“Daddy?” she opened.

“Yes,” I said without a hint of emotion, which gave away that I was very emotional.

“Are you mad?”

“No, Lo,” I said, perhaps lying, though I really didn’t know my own feelings.

“Kiss me,” she said.

I hesitated, but she came close and kissed me, open mouth, with lots of tongue.

When she was done, I said, “Well, wasn’t that just the coup de grâce?”

She replied, “You mean crudités?”

“I don’t know, was taking his cock in your mouth right from your ass merely an appetizer, or was it the final blow?”

“Well,” she said with a wicked smile, “I hope not final!”

She kissed me again and grabbed my package as she did saying, “Admit you liked it, Daddy?”

I said nothing, but my silence gave me away.  I couldn’t both feign anger and be aroused at the same time, and the two contradictory feelings in me were wreaking havoc on my tortured soul.

Then she revealed to me the plan she and Robert had concocted together.  Actually, that’s not fair.  I’m sure that it was all Lo’s idea.

“Daddy,” she began, gently grabbing my arm.

“Yes?”

“If it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”

Compersion


Richard Prince – Girlfriend

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

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

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

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

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

            “No, Daddy, never.”

            Her lies are transparent.

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

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

            She said in her sultry, seduction voice:

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

Richard Prince, “Girlfriend” closeup

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

            ‘That’s exploitation,’ he said.

            ‘Not if she likes it,’ I said.

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

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

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

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

            ‘What are you talking about?’

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

            ‘What?!’ he asked, shocked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeff Koons “Lady in a Tub”

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

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

Art Appreciation

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

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

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

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

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

            “Really?”

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

            “I do.”

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

            “You didn’t!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh,’ I said, ‘What’s that?’

‘You,’ he said.

‘Me?’ I asked.

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

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

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

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

Lola Down – 21st Century Devotional

‘Yes,’ he said.

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

            “How extraordinarily pompous of you!” I said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “I thought I looked angelic.”

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

Community Chest


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. 

What is there to eat?

“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. 

Snack

“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.