Category Archives: Public Sex
Smalltown Strumpet Part II – The Doctor Will See You Now
3
Smalltown Strumpet
Continued from: A Room with a View
Outdoor Strip Club
NO MASTURBATING
The sign was clear, yet ambiguous. Hung up in a strip joint, did it apply to the relatively rare female patron of the arts?
Lola was keen on testing the bounds of linguistic imprecision.
She unbuttoned her tight short-shorts and slid her hand down for a publicly displayed diddle.
No sooner had she done so than a bouncer came up to our table and said, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that. All patrons need to keep their clothes on.”
“My clothes are on,” she protested, batting her eyelashes at him, continuing to caress her cunt.
Lola’s short shorts before
“You know what I mean,” he said, unmoved by her flirtations.
She removed her hand from between her legs, licked her fingers and buttoned up.
“The nerve,” she said to me once he left.
She got up and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’ll be back. Keep it in your pants until then, ok?”
About five minutes later she returned. She sat down next to me where she was, but this time she turned the little chair around and sat on it backwards, spreading her legs to make room for the back rest.
“What’s up?” I asked, confused.
“Well, your cock would be if you could see me from the front,” she replied.
I was curious. I got up and, carrying a single in my hand, walked to the stage, gently tucked it in the dancer’s thong, turned around, and looked at my love sitting with her legs spread on the backward chair.
Ahhhaaa! I see now. When she went to the restroom, she apparently took with her some knife or something and cut her short-shorts through the crotch revealing her lack of panties. (Or did she take off her panties in the bathroom?)
She was proudly displaying her very widely spread pussy lips covertly through the split seam of her short-shorts. The only ones who could see were the strippers on the stage.
Smart. Smart and sexy. My woman has a head for hedonistic hijinks.
She had to refrain from stroking herself lest she alert the bouncer to her little pussy ploy.
The dancers all danced for her, as if greatly amused by the novelty of an amateur exhibitionist putting on a show for them.
I, for my part, was rather nervous about the whole scenario. It seemed to be inviting trouble.
The dancer’s name wasn’t Trouble, but she accepted the invite. She walked off the makeshift stage, strutted up to Lo’s spread legs, got on her knees and pantomimed cunnilingus. The other men in the audience wanted to get a better view. They sauntered around to look between Lo’s legs and well, soon Mr. Bouncer was back.
Lo closed her legs (a rare act for her) as he gestured that we were to leave.
Lo didn’t make a scene (also rare), but gathered up her dignity (what little was left) and strutted out to the cat-calls and whistles of her supporters.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” I said as we left, quoting from Laurel and Hardy – a film reference from before Lo’s time.
“What? Me?!!!” she said with anger.
“I’m just kidding. But you sure do know how to get ejected quick.”
“Meh,” she said, “I’ve been thrown out of better strip clubs than this.”
“That you have.”
“What now, Daddio?” she asked, grabbing my arm as we walked down the street.
“Now we hope we don’t get arrested.”
“I have a better idea,” she said, pulling me down a dirt road that intersected with street where we were walking.
“Lo,” I said, “I have a feeling your idea is not better.”
She ignored me and pulled me further, before bending over to expose the wide gap in her shorts that revealed the wide gap that is her pussy.
“What good are these shorts if we’re not going to use them for a quick doggin’ session?” she asked over her shoulder. “Bang me!”
Lola’s short shorts after
I looked left and right and saw no one. I will admit, I was feeling pent up power needing penetration after the show at the strip club. I hastily pulled out my cock and entered Lo from behind. She let out a long, loud moan.
“Lo, if you want me to keep this going then you need to put on your silencer.”
I rapidly ransacked her raw desire as she gushed girly juice all over my rod. She was overflowing, soaking what little remained of the crotch of her pants.
Lo knows when I’m about to blow and, anticipating my climax, she lunged forward and spun around, landing on her knees, taking my cock in her mouth to catch every precious drop of fluid.
Swallowing her fill, she dabbed the edges of her mouth where a bit had dripped and she sat on the ground to stroke herself silly as I watched and put away my spent serpent.
Finger-fucking herself, she eventually squirted, sprinkling the earth with her holy water.
Mission completed, she got up, dusted herself off, and we continued on our way back to the street and then the center of town.
At one point she walked in front of me and, over her shoulder asked, “Can you see the hole in my shorts, Daddio?”
“Nope, not at all,” I said.
“Too bad.”
We got back to the car and, as I was driving us home, she spread her legs and was touching herself.
“Lo, come on. Didn’t you have enough?”
“It itches, Daddy.”
“Well, wait until we get home. We’ve had one-too-many close calls today.”
“No, I mean it really itches.”
She wasn’t stroking, she was scratching.
She spread her legs wider and looked between them. “It’s irritated.”
I drove faster. “I’ll get you home and you can take a shower. Maybe that will help.”
In my haste to get her home, I got pulled over by a cop. Out here the cops just lie in wait for out-of-state license plates and pluck them off like fish in a barrel.
“What the fuck?” said Lo as I slowed down, edging to the side of the road.
“Cop,” I said, furious that I was going to get a speeding ticket.
“I’m really in some serious discomfort here,” said Lo.
“What do you want me to do, have a high-speed chase through the dirt road Dukes of Hazzard style?”
Cops know that if you’re speeding, you’re in a rush and so they purposely take their time getting out of the car, walking up to the driver’s side window, and talking. This guy was no different. All the while Lo was clamping her thighs together, trying to itch herself surreptitiously.
“Hello officer,” I said when he finally greeted me.
“License and registration,” was all he said as he looked us over, apparently liking what he saw in the passenger seat.
I reached in front of Lo to the glove compartment to grab the papers.
“Hi officer,” said Lo, flirtatiously, but clearly agitated.
“Ma’am,” was all he said.
He took the papers and just as slowly as he had walked to the car, he walked back to his cruiser.
Lo spread her legs and began rubbing, slapping, and smacking her pussy to make the itching go away. She was getting distressed rapidly.
“I can’t take this! I don’t know what’s happening! Look!” she said, swiveling in her seat toward me and spreading her legs. Her entire pussy was swollen with red irritation. So were her knees. “I must have sat in poison ivy!!!”
I was very concerned. Where was that cop?
“We have to go to the hospital, not home,” said Lo, pleading and commanding simultaneously.
Finally the cop came back and gave me a $75.00 ticket.
I took it from him and asked, “Can you tell me the fastest way to get to a hospital?”
“What?”
“We need to go to the hospital right away.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Lo,” I said, “Do you want to show the officer?”
Lo turned toward me again and spread her legs showing her poisoned pussy.
There was a lot of information for the cop to take in at once: the ripped shorts, Lola flashing him, the inflamed pussy. But he took it in stride and simply said, “Follow me.” (I wondered if he was wearing a bodycam that would broadcast to headquarters Lo’s exposing herself.)
He was no longer sauntering. He got in his patrol car quickly and drove so fast that I was hardly able to keep up.
In about fifteen minutes we were at the emergency entrance to the little local hospital. Lo jumped out of the car as I thanked the officer.
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“We were out on a hike and, I guess she fell into some poison ivy.”
“Naked?”
“No, she was wearing shorts.”
He looked puzzled.
“Hey,” he said. “You can forget about that speeding ticket. I’ll revoke it when I get back to the station.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely surprised. “Thanks a lot. For everything!”
I parked the car and went into the emergency room waiting area. I found Lo sitting and squirming in her seat.
“You checked in?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the wait time?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
She was going out of her mind and my questions weren’t helping.
Finally a nurse escorted us to a little examination room that was cordoned off from the others by a thin blue curtain hanging from a bar that made three sides of a rectangle around us.
“Please remove your clothes and get into this,” said the nurse, handing Lo a blue hospital gown.
Lo couldn’t take off her clothes fast enough. Down went the shorts, up went the shirt. She spread her legs and began smacking her pussy.
“I don’t know what else to do,” she said in frustration. “Get me a wet towel. Cold water.”
“That might make it worse,” I cautioned.
“Shut up and do it!”
There was no debate. I followed her instructions and gave her the wet paper towel. She placed it over her pussy.
“Does that help?” I asked.
“A little. Where is that doctor?”
We waited for what felt like an interminably long time before the doctor finally arrived to examine Lo.
“Is it ok if I’m here?” I asked, not wanting to overstep my bounds.
“Are you her father?” he asked, stupidly.
“He’s my lover,” said Lo.
I was tempted to add, “And father,” but I refrained. No time for jokes.
“If it’s ok with the patient, then you can stay,” he said, embarrassed. “So, what brings you here today?” he asked.
Lo hiked up her flimsy hospital gown and spread her legs. The doctor looked. “Not usually this swollen, I take it?” he asked.
“No!” said Lo, insulted.
The doctor put on rubber gloves. I noticed he wore a wedding band. “May I?” he asked, moving in to touch Lo down there.
I have to admit, I was hard. Very hard.
He used his thumb to spread her pussy lips and look very, very carefully.
Lo tried to assist him by offering her professional opinion. “I think it’s poison ivy.”
“Hmmmm,” said the doctor. “Is it anywhere else?”
“A little on my knees,” said Lo.
The doctor looked at Lo’s knees.
“Do you mind removing the gown?” he asked. “I’d like to see if it is anywhere else.”
Lo complied. Standing naked in front of the doctor he looked her over. It seemed he was examining her more as a man than a man of medicine.
He had her turn around and bend over. He looked carefully between her ass cheeks. It was rather degrading to Lo. Infantilizing.
She turned back around to face the doctor and sat down, naked still.
“Were you in the woods?” he asked.
I was curious as to how Lo would answer this one.
“We went for a walk through the woods, yes,” she said. “At one point we sat down on the grass.”
“Do you have any rash?” asked the doctor of me.
“No, none.”
“Just you?” he asked of Lo, rhetorically. “And only, er, there and on your knees? That is odd.”
Lo was losing her patience. Not a patient patient, you might say.
“Yeah, well, how I got it isn’t important. How are we going to treat it? It’s painful.”
“Painful?”
“Yes.”
“Itchy?”
“A little.”
“How long ago were you, uh, sitting in the grass?”
“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so ago.”
“Well, it’s not poison ivy. That would take about a day to appear. My guess is poison nettles.”
“Is that bad?” asked Lo as if being given a terminal diagnosis. “I never heard of poison nettles.”
“Very common around these parts. Never saw a case like this though,” he said, looking at Lo’s pussy.
“What can you do about it?”
“Well, normally I’d say soap and water and let it run its course.”
“I can’t even walk!” shrieked Lo in horror. “There has to be something.”
“An oral steroid will work pretty fast. But just to make sure it works, do you mind if I take a photo as a before comparison?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.
“Go ahead,” said Lo, spreading her legs and using both hands to pull her pussy lips wide apart.
“And one from behind, to make sure it doesn’t spread to the anus,” he said, trying to sound clinical.
Lo got up, turned around, bent over, and spread her butt cheeks for him to snap a few photos.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving us alone.
“That was weird, right?” I asked Lo.
“Yes,” agreed Lo, back to scratching and slapping her pussy, now that the doctor was gone.
“He used his own phone to take a photo. And one from behind.”
“Whatever,” she said, dismissively. “I’ll give him the blog address if he’s that into me. Whatever it takes to have this go away!”
“I bet he’s jackin’ off to your photos in his office right now,” I said.
“I don’t really care,” she said, putting her hospital gown on.
We waited. Lo grew more distressed at her discomfort. She spread her legs and began slapping her pussy. She was hoping the pain would replace the itch. As she was busy between her legs a nurse walked in. She was taken by surprise when she saw me sitting next to Lo and Lo going to town on her twat. Lo looked up at the startled woman with an angry countenance and said, “Poison nettles,” and continued slapping the puffy petals.
The nurse disappeared as quickly as she had entered. Apparently she had forgotten whatever it was she had to do there.
A few moments later a different doctor walked in. He introduced himself as a specialist from dermatology. He said the previous doctor wanted him to render a second opinion on the rash. “Do you mind if I see it?” he asked, clearly aware of what part of Lo’s body was affected.
Lo spread her legs yet again.
The doctor made all sorts of thoughtful, considered grunts and moans. “Hmmmm, ah. Yes. Hmmm. I see. Anything on the back or chest? If there is a rash on the chest it could indicate a severe allergy. May I check?”
Lo removed her gown again and brought her breasts within kissing range of the doctor’s face. He looked them over carefully. “Well, that is good,” he finally said, “appears to be confined to the. . . uh. . . lower parts.”
“May I put on my gown or did you want to check my ass?” asked Lo. “The other doctor checked my ass. Wanted to make sure it hadn’t spread to my anus.”
“Does your anus itch?” asked the doctor.
“No, not really.”
“Well, if you want me to check it out, I will.”
Lo turned around and bent over.
“May I?” asked the doctor before grabbing her ass cheeks.
“Go right ahead.”
He spread her ass cheeks wide and, as she was bent over, he asked, “It itches here?” He touched her vulva with his fingers. Notably, he wasn’t wearing gloves, but he too was wearing a wedding band.
“Yes. It stings a bit there.”
“And here?” he asked as he slid his fingers to the back of her pussy.
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder.
“But nothing here,” he said, running his fingertips gently around Lo’s anus.
“No.”
“That’s good,” he said, letting go of her ass. “You may turn around.”
“Do you also want a photo?” asked Lo.
“What? Uh, no. That is not necessary.”
“Because the other doctor has a few?”
“Yes, yes.”
“He showed you?”
“No, he didn’t,” said the doctor, blushing.
“Will a third doctor need to see me? Maybe all the male doctors of the hospital would like to render an opinion?”
At this point I couldn’t tell if Lo was sarcastically calling out the doctor’s unprofessional voyeurism or if she was letting her fantastically erotic imagination run wild.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the doctor. “I’ll just go consult with my colleague and we’ll get you a prescription.”
“This town is full of sexually frustrated men,” said Lo to me when we were alone again. “And I have to pee,” she added.
“There has to be a bathroom close by.”
“B-R-B,” she said, getting up and leaving our little semi-private area, walking down the hall with her butt crack exposed by the hospital gown.
When she returned, I asked her, “Did you really have to pee or did you just want to put on a little show?”
“A little from column A and a little from column B.”
She laid down on her side, her rear exposed by the skimpy hospital gown in the back.
Another nurse popped in and saw Lo’s rear. She looked at me. “The doctor will be right here,” she said. She looked at Lo and asked me, “Is she ok?”
“Yes,” I said, “just recovering from overexposure.”
The nurse looked puzzled and disappeared.
Lo sat up and said, “More people have seen my ass here than in our books.”
“That’s not true,” I said, my pride bruised by the comment. “I know, on good authority, that your ass has been seen by thousands.”
“Give it some time,” replied Lo.
Now both doctors returned to our room.
“Amazing attention you’re getting, Lo,” I said. “Does your staff treat everyone this way or is this a particularly extraordinary case of poison pussy?” I asked the doctors. They chuckled.
“Here is the prescription said the first doctor,” handing me the note.
“And here is an ointment that should cool down and numb the stinging and itching pretty quickly,” he said, passing it to Lola.
“Can I apply it right now?” she asked, eagerly taking the small tube from him.
“Yes.”
Before either of the doctors could leave, Lo removed the cap and looked up at them. “How much should I use?”
“About enough to cover the tip of your finger should do it,” said the doctor.
Lo squeezed out the white cream that looked like toothpaste and applied it to her fingertip. She then spread her legs and smeared it all around the labia.
“Is it for external use only? Cause it itches inside a bit too.”
“Do you mind,” said the doctor, “if I show you how you can apply it to the sensitive region?”
“Not at all.”
The doctor then put a dab on his fingertip and rubbed the ointment up and down Lo’s pussy lips, careful not to penetrate. “I’d recommend not going any deeper than that,” he said.
Lo was moaning, “MMMMmmmmm, that feels good. Tingly. Can you apply some to my anus, doctor? It’s beginning to itch too.”
Lo lifted her legs higher, exposing her behind to both doctors. The doctor ran his finger around her sphincter. “How’s that?”
“Much better,” moaned Lo seductively. “So, nothing internal?”
“No, not with this. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“If it itches internally?” asked Lo.
“Well, KY jelly or lube is fine. It may help cool it down.”
“You’ll take care of me?” Lo asked, looking at me. I could almost hear her say, “Daddy.”
“Yes, Lo. I’ll try to be as attentive as these good doctors.”
She smiled. She spread her legs again and asked, “Did you get all the affected areas?”
The doctor applied a tad bit more of the cream to his fingertip and began to apply it to her clit. Big mistake.
I saw her look up at me. She bit her lower lip. I saw her hands tense up and her nails dig into the backs of her legs.
Suddenly, Lo squirted a laser-like shot directly onto her tits. It was a strange shot since she was contorted with her legs being held by her arms and her anus exposed.
“Wow!” remarked the doctor who was standing up, breaking with his professional demeanor.
“Whoops!” squealed Lo, playfully, “I sometimes do that.”
She let her legs down and as she did so, another squirt shot out and got the doctor in front of her, right on his chest.
“I can’t control it. Honestly!” she said defensively.
“It’s ok,” said the good doctor, calmly, yet taking a couple of steps back.
“I’ve just been rubbing it all day and so now it’s. . .”
She squirted a third time on the white tile floor, making a puddle. This time she didn’t try to stop. It was a lot. Her head went back and she said, “Fuuuuuuck!” Since we weren’t cut off from the rest of the emergency room by real walls, I’m sure those in the immediate vicinity could hear her.
“Well,” said one of the doctor as he wiped down his tie, “if that will be all, we’ll get going.”
“Thank you. Thank you both,” said Lo, a smile on her face clearly apparent even under her mask, her legs pressed together over the mess she had made. She batted her eyelashes at the two doctors flirtatiously. I passed her a few tissues to wipe down her chest.
The doctors lingered to watch her do this. She dried herself off and then reached in her bag and pulled out a magazine.
“I can tell that you both are two very ethical men of science,” began Lo. I was wondering where she was going with this. “Perhaps you’d be interested in reading this magazine I happen to have found in the waiting room of the hospital? There’s a fascinating article in it on nymphomania. Actually, I have more than just a casual interest in this subject and I’d be very interested to get your professional opinions on it and the claims made in the article.” She passed one of the doctors a copy of Ethical Non-Monogamy. An article I had written about Lola was featured with a spread of her. It was called, “A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition.” Lo found a pen next to her on the small table and carefully wrote her email address, downloladown@gmail.com, on the back cover of the magazine.
ENM Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine Lola Spread
The doctors left, magazine in hand like a consolation prize.
“Lo,” I said disapprovingly. “You are bad.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that it’s all beyond her control – the exhibitionism, the squirting, the flirting, the manipulation.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, “before they call the cops on you.”
“I didn’t do anything illegal. Why would they call the cops?”
“Carrying a concealed weapon.”
“I’m naked, what could I possibly carry that’s concealed?”
“Your dirty mind!”
“Well, you would get me off, wouldn’t you Daddy?”
“I think it would take me and the rest of the town to get you off completely.”
“Well, let’s get home and you can examine the body of evidence.”
It was getting dark as we drove to John’s home where she had me wait on her hand-and-foot through her convalescence.
[To be continued. . . ]
Protected: Reentry
Interview with “Anal Ambassador” Siswet
Siswet
Siswet turned out to be incredibly friendly, down-to-earth, and, well, open. Obviously she’s open.
Lola asked her all sorts of questions, some with unexpected answers.
Siswet is known for her extreme anal insertions. She is legendary. She has a huge following and is also cute as a button. Her “button” is also particularly cute as well. It’s hard to believe that such enormous dildos can fit into that tiny, tight, button. Lo asked about that.
Siswet and friend
L – Does it hurt? I mean, you definitely are on the “extreme” end of anal insertions. Does doing what you do hurt? or do you like it?
S – Well, sometimes it does hurt a little. It depends on the size, but as long as it’s not too much pain it’s nice. A bit of pain is okay. But mostly it doesn’t hurt.
L – How did you discover this unique talent of yours? At what age were you when you started exploring anal insertions?
S – I was 18 when I started anal exploring. Of course I started with only a finger and a really small buttplug. I think I started with bigger toys when I was 20 or something.
If you have watched any of Siswet’s videos, you know that her most popular ones are the ones where her dogs just wander onto the scene as she’s filming her cam show. They seem curious and loving as Siswet goes about trying to squirt and insert.
Siswet and one of her dogs
L – How many pets do you have? They often appear in your videos. Is anyone else around when you make the videos?
S – I have two small dogs, Pomeranians, and I have an Amazon parrot. I love them. Usually I’m alone when I make videos. Other people aren’t around, just the dogs.
There are a lot of rumors out there about Siswet’s relationship status. As you all know, Lola loves to reserve anal sex for other men, knowing that that is the one thing that makes me jealous. She loves to make me jealous and hold out on me. We were wondering what Siswet’s relationships would be like. Would she only want anal sex – so called A.O.L. (anal only lifestyle) – or would vaginal sex be more novel and intimate for her.
L – Current relationship status?
S – I don’t have a relationship.
L – Do you have anal sex when with a partner? Do you prefer anal sex?
S – I do have anal sex when I’m with a partner, but I prefer vaginal sex. I like both though.
We also wondered, given the size of those dildos, could her partner feel anything or she feel anything of her partner if they did have anal sex. Notably, there are very few videos showing Siswet having anal sex with a partner.
Multiple Views
L – When you do have anal sex, can you feel the guy’s penis at all?
S – Yes I do. My ass is flexible from the inside. When I don’t do the big anal toys, my ass gets back to normal.
L – I read somewhere that the guys you have dated in the past became jealous of your work. Is that so? How do you manage relationships?
S – Relationships don’t work for me because of my work, indeed. I don’t want a relationship.
L – How do you manage to stay so perfectly clean?
S – Well, when I know I’m gonna do anal that day I clean myself with a klysma or enema in the morning when I wake up and just before my anal show as well.
L – Do you maintain control over your sphincter after such extreme stretching of it? How? Any special exercises?
S – After I’m done with anal toys, I rest my ass for the next day. I also do anal exercises with buttplugs a lot.
L – Have you ever had any unfortunate accidents due to the extreme anal stretching you have undergone?
S – No, never.
L – Thoughts on ass-to-mouth or ass-to-vagina?
S – Ass-to-mouth is no problem for me. I do that sometimes. But ass-to-vagina I never do because that can cause infections and I’m sensitive to bladder infections.
L – What’s the most painful thing you’ve done for your fans?
S – I think taking the Goliath totally up my ass. (See photo for Goliath.)
Goliath
L – In the videos you make with other people, they are almost always with women. Do you prefer women?
Goliath
S – That’s true, I usually make videos with other women. I don’t prefer women though, I prefer men.
L – Do you feel it to be a personal challenge to see how big of an insertion you can take?
S – Yes, it does feel like a personal challenge. It always has felt like a challenge to see how big a toy I could take.
L – Do anal insertions make you squirt, pee, or both?
S – Anal insertions make me squirt, but not always. I don’t pee on video or cam.
L – Favorite thing to put up your ass?
S – I think my favourite toy for my ass is Stan from Bad Dragon. (See image.)
Siswet and Stan
L – A lot of anal gape stars will focus on the prolapse after, but you usually don’t. Any special reason?
S – I actually don’t know why. Not all people like it, I suppose. I do it sometimes in videos.
L – Did you ever lose anything up your asshole?
S – Yes! – my phone. I really was scared I couldn’t get it out anymore. Luckily someone else got it out for me by sticking his arm deep inside to be able to get it out. All I could think was, what if someone tries to call me???
Siswet on a ride
Lo and I both speculated on how a boyfriend or husband would feel about Siswet’s main source of income. Would he be encouraging and supportive or insecure and jealous. Well, she answered that. But we also wondered what it would be like for someone completely ignorant of her internet fame to date her and, upon getting back to her place, finding out what she can do with her ass – either with a dildo or with him or with him and her arm! Her answer really surprised us. Anyone else familiar with “a darkroom”?
L – Have you ever gone out on a date with a guy who didn’t know about your fame?
S – I actually haven’t. Also, I don’t date very often.
L – Did you ever surprise a lover with your incredible talent? If so, what happened?
S – Yes I have, once in a while I go to a darkroom for fun. Then I let some people fuck my ass as a surprise 🙂 I love that a lot.
Cute Siswet
Can you imagine the surprise that it would be to enter Siswet’s ass in the dark of a club’s sex room?
L – Do you read mysexlifewithlola.com or the Match, Cinder & Spark books to get off?
S – I actually love the website a lot! Just today I got off to the story “Tuesday’s Tale.” The books of Match, Cinder & Spark are amazing as well! There is also a e-version available. That’s super easy!
I guess Siswet liked the “Mount Bliss” stories, perhaps because Lily is A.O.L. (Anal Only Lifestyle).
L – Biggest turn-on?
S – One of my biggest turn-ons is that I love licking a man’s ass and play with it with my fingers when having sex. Also, my biggest turn on is having sex in public!
Support Siswet and enjoy her responsibly by going to her OnlyFans site and her chatroom: http://Onlyfans.com/siswet19
http://SiswetLive.com/siswet19
L – Bonus Question: What is your fantasy fuck?
S – My fantasy fuck is a gangbang where I get fucked until I pass out!
Many thanks to Siswet for being so accommodating to do this interview. We know you’re super busy!!!
Cute Siswet
Sex Drive
Our first date flopped. Cooped up since March due to COVID, Lo was complaining that she hadn’t been on a date in “forever.”
“What about the brothers? Don’t they count?” I asked, referring to the two boys from across the street who had been making regular house calls to Lo’s bedroom to unload their pent-up pandemic sexual frustration with the help of Lola’s pussy.
“Those aren’t dates, Daddy. Those are booty calls. Pity fucks. Besides, they’re so young and inexperienced that there isn’t even sexual tension buildup. It’s all just ram-and-release.”
“You seem to like it.”
“Oh, I love it, for what it is.”
“So, what is it you want?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
“My only wish is to please you.”
“That’s good because my only wish is to be pleased. I want to go on a proper date.”
“So Meri also doesn’t count?”
“Well, she did count, but we dated before COVID.”
“I assume I don’t count.”
“Oh Daddio, you do count. You count the number of men and women I fuck.”
“I can’t count that high.”
“I’ll buy you an abacus.”
“Is that the thing with the beads on it?”
“Yes.”
“That you put in your ass?”
“No. That’s a different thing.”
Not an Abacus
“Oh.”
“I want to go on a date with a couple.”
“A couple?”
“Yeah, a married couple.”
“You have anybody in mind.”
“Daddy, I always have many bodies in mind.”
“Any particular bodies for your date?”
“Yes. There’s a married couple that is trying to get the ole flame flickering again.”
“Let me guess, you think that you can help his wick to grow.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“Where’d you find this couple?”
“They found me.”
“Not another ad!”
“No, Daddy. They have been reading the blog.”
“What are their names?”
“Ron and Nicole. She’s a schoolteacher. He’s a lawncare person.”
“Interesting. And how are you going to go on a ‘date’ in COVID?”
“We. We are going on a date. You and me with them.”
“Again, how?”
“Do you like drive-in movies?”
“Haven’t been to one in ages. Why?”
“Well, it will be like a drive-in.”
“How so?”
“We’ve picked a place to meet and they’ll go in their car and we’ll go in ours.”
“And?”
“That’s it. We’ll see where we go from there.”
Skank Suit
We pulled up in the vacant parking lot. It was cold out for November. Ron and Nicole pulled up to our right in a late model Cadillac. Ron rolled down his window. Lola rolled down hers. They smiled at each other.
“Hi Lola,” called Nicole from the passenger seat.
“Hi Nicole,” responded Lola. I waved, foolishly, and smiled politely.
We could see our breath as the winterlike air flowed into the cabin.
My car has bucket seats. Lo and I couldn’t physically be right next to each other.
Their car had a bench front seat. Nicole slid over to Ron. They were in their early to mid-forties, I’d say. She was pretty. He was smaller in frame than I had imagined. They were clearly there to see Lo perform.
Lola stripped naked in the car, but with the windows rolled up, soon the glass was covered in condensation. Ron and Nicole couldn’t see anything. The more Lo tried, the more foggy the windows got.
Lo rolled down the window, which had the benefit of allowing Ron and Nicole to see her and to make her nipples very hard. But they could only see so much.
Lo opened the car door to expose below her chest. She swiveled and spread her legs, putting her feet up on the seat and fapping her wet pussy. The couple in the car next to us seemed to enjoy the show, but even I was cold, so I can imagine how chilly Lo’s hairless crotch must have been!
I could see that Nicole had Ron’s cock in her right hand and was stroking it as Lo stroked herself.
That didn’t last long. Lo was shivering. The cold air on her nipples made them hard. The downdraft on her bare pussy gave it goosebumps. Pretty to look at, but no amount of caressing, slapping, or fingering could dispel the chill.
After about a half-hour of trying, we called it off and said we’d try again another time.
On the ride home, the heat blasting, I put on Poe’s “Hey Pretty.” The seductive lyrics sang:
Hey pretty
Don’t you want to take a ride with me?
Through my world
Lo leaned over and said, “Can I just be your cock-warmer?”
“Cock-warmer? What is that?”
“You just let your cock rest in my mouth.”
Cock-Warming
“We both know that there’s no ‘just’ with you. Especially after this.”
“I’ll tell you what, you drive and I’ll give you the longest unzipping of your life.”
But just then our little late night drive took a strange turn.
We had just got home and I could tell by the look in her eye she was up to no good.
She walked in the front door wearing that little strumpet outfit she had put on for her audience and, not getting to give the show she had planned for them, she was ready to perform for me. A bad, naughty little performance for a packed house of one.
She pranced into the living room in her heels, black leather skirt, no panties, leather jacket, sheer blouse beneath revealing her hard nipples. She turned on the music: Machine Gun Kelly, “Bad Things.” It was as if she had been waiting her turn in the strip club and the DJ finally got around to her set list.
The blinds were all open as she did her little COVID Cabaret.
“Did you like seeing me in the car tonight, Daddy?”
“I did,” I said as I sat down on the couch to watch her.
“What did you like about it?”
“Your willingness to make a couple happy. I always say your generous nature is your best quality.”
“I have a lot of good qualities.”
“True.”
“And a lot of bad thoughts.”
“Do tell.”
“If you only knew the bad things I like,” she sang along with the song.
She lifted her skirt above her ass as she bent over by the window.
“Well, Daddy, are you going to give it to me?”
I stood up and came close to her. I began undoing my pants, but she stopped me.
“No,” she said, “your belt. Give it to me.”
“Punishment?”
“Yes.”
She assumed the position, bracing for it.
I pulled out my long black leather belt, bent it in half, grabbed both ends in one hand and gently let it fall upon her flesh.
“Oh, come on,” she mocked. “Harder.”
“I gave her a mild whack.
“Harder. Wasn’t I bad Daddy? Wasn’t it wrong of me to arrange this COVID dogging session?”
I gave her a strong spank with the strap. It made a clear cracking on her ass. Her body convulsed as if she was surprised by it. Then she said, “Yesss, that’s it.”
I gave her another.
We hadn’t engaged in this sort of play for a long time.
“You were bad,” I said, reflecting upon it. “Dressed scantily in public like that. Like a little skank.”
“That’s right.”
I gave her a harder smack. I could see the outline of the belt in a red line left on her skin, even in the dim light.
“Again.”
I gave it to her again.
“Harder.”
She got another harder.
“I wish that the three of you could be doing this to me. You, Ron, Nicole.”
I gave her another WHACK!
“I wish I was tied to a pole naked (except my heels of course) and each of you had a strap to take turns on my body.”
“Why?” I asked as I inflicted another, harder lick of the leather.
“Cause I can take it. Cause I like it.”
“Why?”
WHAP!
“Because I deserve it.”
SMACK!
“Because I’m so, so bad.”
I gave her one last, forceful spank with the belt before she said our safe word. She turned around. There were tears in her eyes. She reached out her arms and hugged me. She wrapped her legs around mine. She was holding on for dear life.
“I hate this pandemic!” she said, weeping.
She slowly descended, her body crumpling around my legs. She was on the floor, hugging my shins, crying, weeping, naked.
“Come,” I said, helping her up. “Let me apply some aftercare.”
Spank Me Daddy
I led her to the bedroom where I gently laid her out on the bed, face down. I went into the bathroom and got out the baby oil. I puddled some in my palm, rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and gently caressed it over her glowing red ass, sore from the spanking she received.
“Owweeemmmmmm,” she purred, her cry of pain turning to a hum of pleasure.
I made small gentle circles with my palms on her ass cheeks. I slid my fingers between her ass cleavage. I ran my fingertips up and down her crotch gently. I revolved my index finger around her special spot, slowly descending into it, one knuckle at a time until fully submerged. She moaned with pleasure. In-and-out I went, first with one finger then with two. I curled them and fingered her ass much the way I would finger her pussy.
Her body mimicked the motions of an inchworm, rising in the middle and then descending. Up-and-down. Faster my fingers slip-sliding in-and-out, until she said, “There! Stay. Deep. Hold it!” She came. I could see her pussy juices dribbling down her thighs. Her ass clenched up on my fingers. Her body was motionless for a moment before the waves of involuntary convulsions shuttered across the surface from feet to shoulders.
Her sphincter released and I slid my fingers out with ease.
To my shock she was asleep.
I was hard, but happy. My deepest desire is to please her.
Bleach Bum
Lola, Image by Julie Hill
Lo’s date with MILF Meri was Easter Sunday. By Lo’s account, both of them had a great time and were eager to make the magic happen again. But then, inexplicably, Meri ghosted Lo. No response to email, nothing.
“I think she might be having randy remorse,” said Lo one morning while we were pondering the odd disappearance.
“What the hell is ‘randy remorse’?”
“You know – she was all randy to have a lesbian encounter. She did it. It was hot. But she has a husband, three sons, a conventional, bougie, suburban, soccer-mom lifestyle to maintain. She can’t fuck that all up for a little labial action.”
“Don’t you think that that’s a tad narrow-minded?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I don’t mean her lack of follow-up. I mean your explanation.”
“What?”
“In this day and age, women aren’t as boxed in as you make it sound. I mean, a lot of couples are open to the wife playing around, especially with someone like you.”
“What does that mean, ‘someone like me’?”
“I just mean, younger, already in a relationship and therefore not clingy or a threat to the Stepford Wife, picture-perfect, wholesome family-Christmas-letter lifestyle.”
“So I’m just a Manic Pixie Dream Girl to her?”
“Precisely.”
“I think you’re making her situation out to be too simplistic. You have no idea what the family dynamics are, what pressures she may feel, or her reasons for dropping me.”
“And neither do you. So why should we keep speculating about it?”
We let it go and, other than Lo occasionally recounting her one sexcapade with MILF Meri while masturbating or copulating with me, she was all but forgotten.
Until one day during quarantine.
“Lo, I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you’re ok.”
That was it. A one sentence, no explanation, wellness-check email from Meri.
Lo wrote back and tactfully, without accusation or spite, inquired why it had been so long since she had last heard from Meri.
Instead of responding immediately, it was over a week before Lo received a terse email in return.
“It’s complicated,” was the enigmatic reply. “I’ll write more later.”
Again, another week elapsed before Lo got the following email:
Dear Lo,
I’m sorry I never followed up with you after we met last Easter. Believe me, you were on my mind constantly. However, I was feeling guilty about the circumstances of how we met. I know you thought I was just responding to your ad, but it’s more complicated than that. Can we meet in person to talk about it?
Meri
“Guilty about the circumstances of how we met?” said Lo to me, perplexed.
“Will you meet with her?”
“I have to.”
“What do you mean, you have to?”
“Don’t you want to know the answer to this mystery?”
“I suppose.”
The following weekend Lo dolled herself up. It felt like a uniquely special occasion since, during the COVID crisis, Lo hadn’t had much reason to dress the part. Indeed, as she chose and then dismissed various outfits, that’s exactly what it felt like – like she was an actress choosing the right outfit for a role. This day she was going for the ‘innocent little college student’ role. After many attempts at the right combination, she settled on a short skirt, no panties, a white knit sweater, no bra, and her cute little pumps. I realized, maybe not quite for the first time, that Lo enjoys the theatrics of her dates as much as the action.
“Good luck, Love,” I said as she was breezing out the door.
“Luck? I don’t need luck when I got this,” she said as she lifted the back of her skirt to reveal her bare ass.
“That’s true,” was all I could say as I etched the image on my brain. “Remember,” I called to her as she walked away, “social distancing!”
Later that day, Lo strolled up the street back toward our apartment as I sat outside reading a book and drinking a G&T in the front yard. I soaked in the way she perfected the picture before me as she sauntered on the sidewalk, the incarnation of summertime: bright, cheerful, without a care in the world, lackadaisical, unhurried, and delighting in being enjoyed by those she passed by.
She stopped before me. “Hi,” she said with a big grin on her face.
“Hi,” I repeated back to her.
“Want to fuck?” she said, getting to the point.
“Am I breathing?”
We went right into the bedroom. She bent over the bed, lifted up her skirt and I slid right into her wet and willing pussy.
It took a few thrusts before she was ready to recall for me her socially-distant-dalliance with MILF Meri, but I knew she’d come around after she had cum around two or three times.
I pulled out of her dripping hot hole and, still hard up, was lying on the bed, panting as I sweat, despite the AC blasting.
“You ok, ole man?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, “I’ve got lots more loving left in me. But let’s take a little break and you can tell me why, exactly, you’re so needy.”
“But Daddy,” she said, batting her eyelashes at me, “I’m always needy. I’m a nympho, remember?”
“Cut to the story, Lo. I can see you aching to regale me with your reverie.”
“OK,” she said. “Lie back and I’ll tell you.”
She was sitting naked on the bed next to me. Her legs were crossed under her and she gently stroked my wet, rigid manhood as she spoke.
“Close your eyes,” she instructed.
I obeyed.
I felt her lips ease down my shaft.
“Lo, you can’t tell me what happened with a mouthful of my cock.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said after pulling up and releasing me. “I just wanted a taste.”
“Of a woman?”
“Of me. Now listen with your eyes closed.”
She then told me the following:
We met at the park by the river. She was already there when I arrived. It was crowded. A lot of families, people picnicking, suntanning. You know. The usual for a gorgeous summer day during a global pandemic.
She was sitting on a little picnic blanket, clearly nervous, tense with anticipation about seeing me again.
When I got there, I unraveled my blanket too, took off my shoes, and sat a safe distance away from her, but within earshot.
I so wanted to kiss her on her full red lips and put my fingers through her full red hair. But I was good, Daddy.
I sat crisscross, like I am now, but with my skirt just covering my modesty. I didn’t wear a bra and so I’m sure she could make out my nipples through my sheer sweater. I know she could because every guy I passed on the walk to her was glaring at my chest. I enjoyed teasing her. In fact, I enjoyed the whole distance thing more than I thought. The torture of it all was exciting, I think, for both of us.
Anyhow, she had packed a little picnic basket, complete with a couple of bottles of chilled champagne and plastic glasses. She poured me one and, after a few pleasantries, she told me her story.
‘Lo, do you remember our first few email exchanges?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said, thinking nothing special had been in them.
‘Well, I wrote to you and you assumed that I was responding to your ad.’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘That’s just the thing,’ she said, pausing and thinking how to tell me the next part. ‘I didn’t even know you had an ad.’
‘How did you get my email? How did you hear about me?’
‘I feel terrible about this. I’m really sorry I led you on, or at least didn’t tell the truth right away. I really didn’t mean to lead you on at all.’
I was very confused and I’m sure she could see it on my face.
‘You see, it started with my husband.’
‘He saw the ad?’
‘No, he found your blog somehow. One night he left his computer on and fell asleep on the couch.’
‘Nothing good ever follows those words.’
‘I knew he had just jacked it.’
‘How did you know that?’
‘We’ve been married twenty-three years, Lo. I know when he’s jacked off.’
‘OK.’
‘So I was curious. I just wanted to see what was getting him off now. And, instead of the usual porn vids that he watches to relieve stress, I found your blog!’
‘Really?’
‘Yes! And I was fascinated by what I was reading. I think it was Bleach Bum or something like that.’
‘Oh, I know what you mean,’ I said, a little embarrassed because that’s the story where you talk about anal bleaching and you put up a very prominent photo of my perineum.
Lola’s Blue Gem
“I believe it was more a photo of your asshole.”
“Must you be so vulgar?”
“I believe it was a photo of your anus.”
“That’s not any better!”
“It was a photo of your posterior analytics.”
“That sounds better. But a little sterile.”
“It was a photo of your sweet, sweet. . .”
“Don’t you dare say sphincter!”
“How about your bottom’s belly-button?”
“Too confusing.”
“Can we please get back to your story?”
She continued:
She went on, ‘I wanted to read more, but I didn’t want Scott, that’s my husband, to know I was looking at his search history, so I logged out and signed into my account on the family’s desktop. I read and read and looked at the photos of you and, well, I felt sexually aroused like I hadn’t in a long time!’
‘I have that effect on people.’
‘Mmmm,’ she moaned, looking at me, a little fear in her eyes, ‘to be honest, it was a combination of you, your photos, and the writing.’
“HA!” I shouted.
“Oh, calm down.”
“The writing!”
“Do you want to hear my story so you can write about it or what?”
“Well, now that she knows about the blog, it’s sort of breaking the fourth wall, isn’t it?”
“I’ll leave the literary devices to you.”
Meri continued, ‘I couldn’t get enough and then I saw that you had your email right there on the blog. So I wrote to you.’
‘And I jumped to the conclusion that you must have read the ad.’
‘Yeah. I was a little confused at first. And then, to find out that we live in the same city, or at least pretty close to it!’
‘So that’s why you didn’t follow up with me for over a year? Because of that little misunderstanding?’
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘By the way, I read the story that H.H. wrote about our Easter encounter.’
‘Right, I guess you did. Sorry that he was such a spy.’
‘That’s ok,’ she said, laughing a little, ‘It shows how much he loves you.’
‘Or what a perv he is!’
She waived her hand like it didn’t matter. ‘He wrote that you liked it.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you? Did you really?’
‘Of course I did. Did you disappear because you thought I didn’t?’
‘No, that wasn’t it. I was eager to do it again – and more!’
‘So what happened?’
At this point, it was getting warm and both of us had had about two glasses of Champagne. I stretched out my legs and so did she. Our feet were touching at the end of our blankets. It was cute and quite erotic – just touching toes like that.
‘Um, well, uh,’ she stumbled, ‘it gets a little more complex. A little more confusing.’
‘What does?’
‘For a while both Scott and I were reading and getting off to your blog, but separately. He had no idea that I was reading it.’
‘OK. Don’t tell me he wants to fuck me too?’
‘Well, he probably does. That’s not the problem.’
I was so confused.
‘Lo, do you remember getting some fan mail a while ago?’
‘I get a lot of fan mail.’
‘Well, this was special. It had an illustration. It was from a mom. It was about a shared computer and. . .’
‘THAT was YOU?!’ I shot at Meri when the pieces fit together.
Meri’s face had turned almost as red as her hair. ‘Do you want to leave? Do you hate me? I’m so ashamed.’
At that moment, though she was much older, she seemed so scared, so vulnerable. I just rubbed her feet more with my feet and consoled her.
‘Was it just that one time?’ I asked after a long pause.
‘I wish I could say it was.’
‘You mean you. . . ?’
‘He likes me to help him. Other than you, it’s our secret.’
“Wait. Wait,” I said in disbelief. “You’re saying that Meri is the mom who wrote to us about finding the blog on her husband’s computer and fapping to it and then, later, when she was found out by her son, used it as ‘a teachable moment’?”
“One-and-the-same.”
“Oooooohhhhhh,” I said. “That explains a lot.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why’d she send that email and not say that it was from her?”
“I think she was embarrassed, but she was trying to tell me why she was M.I.A.”
“A little coded message?”
“Yeah. Not the clearest communication.”
“Did she actually expect you to figure it out?”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t even from the same email address as she had used before. I think she wanted to gauge my reaction to it. When you wrote about it without being judgmental, I think it gave her a little more courage.”
“Well what happened next?”
“We talked a little more, just catching up on the past year. I then lifted up my knees so that she could have a good, direct look at my smooth, gleaming pussy. Very discretely she extended her leg between my legs and tickled my pussy lips with her toe.”
“That doesn’t sound like you were six feet apart.”
“She has long legs. Anyhow, she was very turned on by it. She wanted to touch herself, but couldn’t out there in public. So we ended sort of abruptly. We wanted to see more of each other, but she also wanted to cum. I bet she touched herself in the car on the way home.”
“Lo, this is some fucked-up shit. Back when you were fooling around with Hunter, a married man, you were playing with fire. Now you’re playing with gasoline, tanks of oxygen, and matches.”
“I know, I know,” she said, actually distraught. “But she’s so fucking hot!”
“Heat is the last ingredient you need with gasoline, tanks of oxygen, and matches.”
“OK! I get it.”
“And what happens when they all read this entry of the blog together? KABOOM!”
“You just won’t write about it.”
“To hell I won’t!”
“Well, you won’t publish it until I get myself out of this mess.”
“Agreed. But you will get yourself out of it, won’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, reluctantly.
“Cause if you don’t, this will get you in the ass and it will hurt more than that ‘Bleach Bum.’”
We both laughed at Meri’s misremembering the title of that blog post.
“Kiss it, Daddy,” she said, bending over. “Make me feel better.”
“You’re lucky I’m so madly in love with you Lo. You know that?”
“You like my bleach bum?”
“Like it? Love it! Want it,” I said as I pulled her close to me.
Lola, Illustration by Jeremy Young
Naughty Schoolgirl & Her Daddy
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
[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
[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
Very Thankful
mysexlifewithlola.com
It was Thanksgiving weekend and we had been invited to a family-friend’s house in Miami for the occasion. Our host’s apartment was in one of the tall high-rise buildings downtown and was not nearly large enough to accommodate all the guests overnight, so Lo and I got a hotel room close by. Being from up north, it took a lot of getting used to Thanksgiving without the brilliant foliage hues of warm oranges, deep reds, and brilliant yellows. Rather, seeing palm trees, blue skies, and beaches made this weekend feel like any other vacation weekend.
We had arrived on Wednesday, the most highly traveled day of the year in America, but despite my travel anxiety, the trip went off without a hitch. We got settled in our hotel early that day and then made our way down to Miami Beach where Lo slipped into her skimpy little bikini and we quickly made the transition from trudging through ankle high snow to gliding through soft golden sand and refreshing surf. My staying out of Lo’s crosshairs was next to impossible on this beach because no matter where I turned there was another scantily clad sexy woman walking, lying in the sun, swimming, playing volleyball, or applying sunscreen. Each time I looked up, I was in trouble with her.
Finally I said to her, “What do you want me to do, put blinders on?”
To my great surprise she smiled and said, “I’m just kidding. Look all you want. Go on the BP.” BP is our code word for “Butt Patrol.”
“What? Wait. Say that again. I think I have an inner ear infection. I thought you said, ‘Look all you want.’”
“That’s what I said. You’re not hearing things. There are too many beautiful women on this beach for me to be jealous of all of them.”
Well, this was certainly a change. At first it was a welcome change, but within mere moments of it setting in I became very disconcerted. Does this mean she doesn’t love me anymore? Has she lost interest? Is she less invested in me, my feelings, my love? A mini-crisis of faith descended over me and suddenly I lost all interest in any of the scenery.
We walked a little further in silence and then she added, “Also, I just feel fat.”
“Fat?!” I cried out. “Lo, you’re beautiful! Perfect! A goddess! A zaftig, sexy, siren.”
“Zaftig means fat,” she said flatly.
“No. Zaftig means pleasantly plump and juicy. You know that. That’s exactly what you are, you little squirt.”
Zaftig Lola
“Wouldn’t you prefer her or her or her?” she asked, pointing at different stick-skinny-blondes on the beach.
“If I did, I would be with her, her, or her.”
“Then why don’t you go with them?”
“Now you’re just fishing for more compliments.”
“No,” she said, “I’m serious.”
“Because I love you. I want you. I find you attractive. And so do a lot of other people, I might add.”
Her hand reached out to hold mine and we walked a little further, but the sun was beating down and it was soon far too hot to be out there in the direct light of noon.
We headed toward Ocean Boulevard and I thought we were looking for a cool – literally cool – place to have lunch, but Lo, of course, had other ideas. We had passed a strip club on the way to the beach and apparently she took mental note. She directed us right there and we ducked in to get out of the heat and into the steamy striptease. But, little did we know, Miami isn’t like New York or D.C. where they have performances all day, all night. No one was dancing. It was just another dive bar.
The bearded bartender asked what we’d have and Lo said, “I came here to have a show. Where are the dancers?”
“Oh, they don’t come on until eight or nine,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Fine, then make me a margarita and make it strong,” she demanded, visibly disappointed.
“I’ll have a piña colada” I said.
Lo was sitting with her elbows on the bar, her biceps boosting up her boobs in her bikini top. The bartender obviously enjoyed the view. He made conversation with her, almost ignoring me.
“Sorry the ladies aren’t on now,” he said. “But I know a few who’d like to put on a show for you,” he added. “And I’d like to see that.”
He asked us where we were from and so forth. Lo was flirting with him and rubbing my leg with her foot, but he couldn’t see that. Did she want him?
We each had our drink, cooled down and then, when we asked for the tab, the bartender said it was on the house. Lo smiled flirtatiously and I put down a healthy cash tip.
“What now?” I asked Lo, to see where her whims would take her.
“Let’s just fuck,” she said.
We went straight back to the hotel and Lo stripped out of what little she was wearing.
She looked pleasantly plump and juicy and I told her so.
“Show me how bad you want me,” she said.
I pulled down my bathing suit and revealed my incredibly rigid cock pointing right at her.
“Mmmmmm, good,” she replied, lying back on the bed.
I climbed on the bed and lifted her legs in the air. She had crossed her legs doing a little stripper move and I entered her as I held her up by her ankles. She moaned. Then I took her beautiful, soft feet, one in each hand, and gently rubbed her soles on my cheeks as I looked down at her, fondling her nipples. She held my head between her feet and I grabbed her hips.
“I want to fuck your round rump,” I said. I slid my hands up the side of her body to her tum and grabbed a handful of her flesh. I held her by her doughy roll and I loved it. “You know,” I said, “I find this part of you even more sexy than your tits.”
“Now you’re just making me feel self-conscious and fat,” she said.
“I love it,” I said to her.
“I don’t,” she said to me.
“Turn over,” I instructed. She complied.
I began going at her from behind as I smacked her lovely ass cheeks with my hands. She backed into me, ramming my pole deep into her. I could feel her intensity growing. And then she said, “Do you like my ass, Daddy?”
“Love it.”
“Do you like my fat ass?”
She was trying to get me to cum.
“Yes.”
“You like your fat little girl?” she asked seductively.
“I love my fat little girl.”
“Don’t you want to cum all over my fat, fat ass?” she asked and hearing her say that was enough. I gave her one last thrust before pulling out, and grabbing my cock and ejaculating all over her ass and back, shooting occasionally all the way up to her shoulder blades. Simultaneously, she began to squirt down on the bed.
“Pleasantly plump. Very juicy,” I said.
I removed the covers from the bed. We didn’t need them anyway. It was warm enough without them. After I cleaned us both up, we snuggled – big spoon/little spoon. My hands were around her and I was holding her breast with one hand and her tum with the other. But then I felt a warm liquid all over my lap.
“Did you just squirt again?” I asked her.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said simply before falling to sleep.
Sometime later, we both woke from our nap. What had been a blindingly hot day, was now slowly slipping into a cool dusk. I got up and took a shower. Lo was still in bed. Then I sat at the little desk of the hotel room and took out my computer. I was preparing to post on the blog. Lo was watching TV.
“What are you watching?” I asked.
“The New Girl.”
“The Nude Girl?”
“No, The New Girl.”
“Oh, cause I was watching The Nude Girl,” I said.
“Who?” she asked, jealously.
“You,” I said, showing her the pics of her on my computer screen.
“Oh, well, you don’t have to look only at the pics, you can have the real thing,” she said, spreading her legs and rubbing her puss.
“Lo,” I said, “Are you getting horny watching TV again?”
“When don’t I? Besides, Zooey Deschanel is such a MPDG.”
Zooey Deschanel
“A what?”
“You know, a Manic Pixie Dream Girl.”
“No. I don’t know. Explain.”
“A Manic Pixie Dream Girl is. . .” she was looking for the right words, “is Zooey Deschanel’s character on this show.”
Lola
“And what’s that?” I asked, not being familiar with the show, this Zooey woman, or the expression.
There are these three guys on the show. They’re sad, they’re lonely, they’re single. They’re roommates. And then comes along Jess who moves in with them. She’s bubbly. She’s cheerful. She’s good-girl-American-girl-cute. And she’s just what they need. And they all want to fuck her, secretly or not so secretly. That’s what an MPDG is.”
“Oh, so in addition to a MILF you also yearn to be an MPDG.”
“Oh no,” said Lo, “I’m both.”
“Is that possible?”
“Not for most women, but I can pull it off.”
“Yeah, you pull it off alright – you pull off your sweater and your bra and suddenly you’re every man’s dream.”
“Watch it!” she warned. “I still remember how you called me fat.”
“Me?” I cried. “You’re the one who. . .”
“Don’t even,” she said. “You’ll piss me off and then you’ll have to butter me up.”
“OK,” I said, “If you lie naked, I’ll get a stick of butter.”
She threw a pillow at me and said, “As fun as that sounds – treating me like a butterball turkey – I want to go out on the town tonight.”
“Yeah, tonight and every other night.”
“It’s not every night that we are in Miami,” she said, getting out of bed.
“Where do you want to go? Another strip club?”
“No no,” she said. “I’ve got a few places in mind.”
“A few places?!” It was a good thing I got that long nap in, because usually I am not able to keep up with Lo’s nights out.
She slipped into her bathing suit and, because it was still too early for the club scene, we went up to the hotel’s rooftop pool. We got a couple of lounge chairs by the side that overlooks Ocean Blvd. and the beach, but we sat facing west to see the sunset.
An older couple sat next to us and the woman removed everything except her bikini bottom. She looked at me as her obviously surgically enhanced breasts ballooned almost into my face. “Is she trying to seduce me?” I thought and I saw Lo look sidelong at us both.
Lo and I got in the pool and I swam up to her and whispered, “Lo, that totally was not my fault. She sat down next to me. She was trying to impress me. I didn’t know what to do, so I just smiled politely.”
“It’s ok,” laughed Lo at all my excuses. “I know. Besides, she’s got nothing on me,” she said, removing her own bikini top and putting it on the side of the pool. She and I swam in the pool together as if we were one monstrous fish with four appendages. I loved being next to her bare torso in the pool with others looking on from the patio. Then she got out like a goddess and sat in the lounge chair and I went to the bar to order us drinks. I watched admiringly as others were staring at my little nymph.
I brought her drinks and we enjoyed an indescribably colorful sunset. I felt as if everything was perfect.
As the pool area emptied out, we went back to the hotel room. After Lo showered and slipped on a sexy dress and slid into some very sexy heels, we were out and about at one of the city’s dance clubs. I am no dancer, but I love watching Lo dance. I ordered my drink at the bar and watched as she danced and flirted with the city’s diverse beauties. I really think that Miami is perhaps the best looking city in the US.
As I sat and soaked in Lo’s form under the twirling lights, I thought of the Don Henley song, “All She Wants To Do Is Dance.” Yep, that’s Lo. All she wants to do is dance. . . and fuck. And this night it looked like she was doing both out on the dancefloor.
Around two in the morning, she finally came back to me, all sweaty, and said she was ready to go because even though she was having a great time, her feet were killing her.
On our way to the hotel in the back of the Lyft, she pulled out her phone and was looking at something that made her excited. She already had her shoes off, but as she looked at her phone, she put her bare foot on my lap and said, “Massage it, Daddy.” She lifted up her other foot and asked me to do the same to that one while her dress revealed her commando crotch. She used her feet to flirt with my manhood as the driver made small talk, but I could tell that she was way too intoxicated to know what she was doing. When we got to the hotel, as we were crossing the quiet lobby, she said to me, “Come to the bedroom and fuck me.”
“Lola, I’ll come to the bedroom, but I’m going to sleep. It’s a quarter-to-three in the morning.”
“No it’s not. It’s sex-o’clock. Time for me to cum in the bedroom.”
“In that case, I’m not going to the bedroom. I’ll stay right here on the couch in the lobby.”
“I can cum on the couch just as easily as in the bedroom. Even easier, because here I have an audience.”
Realizing the futility of my rebuke, I made sure she got to the hotel room without falling.
I went right to sleep, but at some ungodly hour I woke to find Lo on her phone travelling down dark electronic alleyways at night.
When I awoke in the morning, a flashback of the evening crossed my mind. Lo was sound asleep, naked, next to me. I grabbed her phone and scrolled through her history. Just as I suspected, a number of photos and messages from her Tumblr fans. Naughty, dirty, taboo, fetish, and wildly NSFW messages and photos. Good thing we were on vacation and so were most other people for Thanksgiving. I’ve noticed that around holidays, Lo’s fans really step up. Loneliness sets in, I suppose, and they reach out. Lo, ever gracious, always compliments their dick pics and entertains their most depraved fantasies about her. Every once in a while she draws the line with them, if they disrespect her or disrespect women in general. Though she is into BDSM, she still wants to be worshipped as a goddess. It’s a fine line, but make no mistake, there is a line.
Lo’s Call for Tributes
I read a number of conversations that made me laugh. For instance, in response to one fan who asked, “What’s up?” Lo responded, “If you’re looking at my photos, then your cock.”
To another guy who sent a pic of himself jacking off to her photos, she said, “Looks like you’ve got things well in hand.”
Satisfied that her nocturnal communications were nothing but the innocent fapping fun of a nymphomaniac, I put her phone down and made myself a coffee.
Lo woke, groggy. She went to the bathroom and was in there for a while.
I had sat down to begin writing. I had my warm cup of coffee to my left and my notes to my right and I was gazing off to the middle distance contemplating the first line of the story when I heard, “Darling, can you come here? I need your opinion on something.”
I muttered under my breath, “She’s going to ask me how she looks in something and I will tell her and she’ll disregard my opinion and do whatever the hell she wants to do anyway. I don’t know why she claims she needs my opinion.” But I called back to her, “Yes dear,” as I got up from my comfortable writing perch and went to the bathroom.
In the bathroom I found her in a skimpy bikini.
“How do you like this top with these bottoms?” she asked.
“Nice.”
“Am I too fat?”
“Define what ‘too fat’ is.”
“Am I fat?”
“Honest answer?”
“Yes. No. Yes,” she said, confused.
“You’re just right.”
“But do I look fat in this?”
“Darling, you look perfect in it.”
“Is the bottom too cheeky?” she asked as she turned around and jutted her butt out.
“No. This would be too cheeky,” I said as I pulled the sides of the bikini bottom together to reveal most of her ass, followed by a spank.
“Mmmm, I like that,” she said.
“Me too. You’re welcome,” I responded as I began to return to my writing.
“Watit!” she demanded, “I’m not done,” she said as she removed her bikini top and grabbed another one. She put on the second top. “What do you think of this?”
“I think it’s too big.”
“Too big?”
“Yeah, it covers too much of your tits.”
“Well I like it,” she said.
“I don’t know why you say you want my opinion on things when you never act on it.”
“Fifty something years and you don’t know by now that when a woman asks your opinion on how she looks, what she wants to hear is a compliment?”
“No,” I said. “It only took fifteen seconds for you to tell me that. Now I know. Thank you. And, by the way, you look great in that.”
“I look even better out of it. Take me to the right beach and you’ll see just how good I can look out of it.”
It was an enticing prospect, but today was Thanksgiving and we had to be at our family-friend’s house by two for the big meal. That left little time for an excursion to a nude beach.
We were both hungry and we ordered breakfast to our room.
Room service arrived and Lo answered in her skimpy bikini bottoms, no top. She even bent over to rummage through her bag for a tip to give him. My guess was that her little show was all the tip he needed.
After he left, Lo began to pout. She had ordered a bagel with cream cheese. “The bagel’s not toasty enough and the cream cheese doesn’t spread.”
“You know what I like about you? You tell it like it is. There’s no beating around the bush with you.”
“I don’t have any bush to beat,” she said, pulling back her bikini bottom and showing her shaved triangle.
“That is true.”
“But you can beat my puss.”
I was only wearing my cut-off sweatpants-shorts and a T-shirt. As Lo sat in her chair, fondling herself, I grew noticeably hard in my shorts.
“Why do you resist, Daddy?” she asked. “I can see you want me.”
“I do, but. . .” Before I could finish the sentence, she put her legs up in the air. One on the desk and the other on the bed, and she really went at it.
“Jerk off for me,” she commanded.
“Do you want me to fuck you or do you want me to jerk off?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
I pulled at my cock, hoping that I’d be getting some of her puss. She teased me by pulling her pussy lips, by pulling her bikini bottoms into a micro-bikini with her pussy lips spilling over the thin thong. “Should I go onto the beach like this, Daddy?” she asked.
That was too much for me. I exploded in my shorts.
HH cums
“Nooooooo,” she called, seeing her hopes and dreams splattered all over my crotch.
“Sorry, Lo,” I said meekly.
“Damn it!” she said. “First breakfast was a disappointment, now dessert.”
“You’ll just have to take matters into your own hands,” I said.
No sooner had I said it than she swung around in the chair and opened the laptop computer to look at her Tumblr.
“Were you fooling around with my Tumblr account?” she asked me.
“No,” I said as I was cleaning myself off. “Why?”
There was no answer.
“Are you looking at all the messages from last night, er, earlier this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that was all you,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”
“I do now,” she said. I couldn’t tell if she was just trying to make like she hadn’t had that much to drink or if she was being honest. In either case, she began laughing. “I’m pretty funny,” she said as she masturbated to the photos she saw.
She got up and went on the bed where she shut her eyes and plunged her puss with her fist.
When she was good and done, I asked her what she was thinking about.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Nothing? Really? You just came like a howling wildebeest to the thought of nothing?”
“I’m very Zen.”
“Lo,” I said, unamused.
“Well. . .”
“Out with it.”
“I was thinking of the woman from the pool yesterday.”
“Mrs. Silicon?”
“Yeah. But in my mind. . . . No I shouldn’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“If I say it, you might get the wrong idea. You might think that I want it and I definitely don’t want it.”
“Want what?”
“In my mind she was young, blonde, and natural. She was coming onto you, making me jealous. You took her down to our hotel room. I followed and then the soundtrack started playing, ‘Girl Crush.’”
“What?”
“You know, the song ‘Girl Crush,’ by Little Big Town,” she said as she put the video on.
I gotta girl crush, hate to admit it but
I gotta heart rush, ain’t slowin’ down
I got it real bad, want everything she has
That smile and that midnight laugh she’s giving you now
I wanna taste her lips, yeah, ʼcause they taste like you
I wanna drown myself in a bottle of her perfume
I want her long blonde hair, I want her magic touch
Yeah, ʼcause maybe then you’d want me just as much
I gotta girl crush, I gotta girl crush
I don’t get no sleep, I don’t get no peace
Thinkin’ about her under your bed sheets
The way that she’s whisperin’, the way that she’s pullin’ you in
Lord knows I’ve tried, I can’t get her off my mind
“I see,” I said after hearing the song. “We could make that happen.”
She threw a pillow at me.
After she got dressed, I asked her what it was she wanted to do in the few hours we had before we were expected for the Thanksgiving meal.
“I didn’t tell you?”
“No, no you didn’t. What?”
“We’re going fishing!” she said all excited.
“We’re doing what?”
“Well, boating or fishing or skinny-dipping. Whatever we want, but my friend has a boat and. . .”
“You’re friend? Who the hell do you know down here in Miami?”
“Darling, I have friends all over the world.”
“Tumblr friends?”
“When you’ve got assets like these,” she said, showing off her butt, “everyone wants to be your friend.”
“Good grief!”
“Anyhow, this friend of mine, or ours. . .”
“Ours?! I don’t even know him!”
“Whatever. That doesn’t matter. He knows you very well by now. He’s got a boat and he promised to take us out for a little trip today!”
Soon we were at the marina and, after a few wrong turns, we finally found the boat and Lo’s ‘friend.’ His name was Alan and he seemed nice enough. He was tall and lanky, he had some scruff on his face like he hadn’t shaved in three days. He was tan and looked like he spent his days in the Florida sun. I’d guess he was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. He had a small motorboat and we got aboard and Lo stripped down to her sexy bikini while Alan steered and made small talk with me. Turns out, I was right about how he spent his days. He worked at the marina part-time and as a waiter the rest of the time.
Lo and I had a few beers and we had a great view of the city from off the coast. The sun, the gentle rocking of the boat, and the beer made me drowsy and I almost nodded off. But we stopped the boat and we all decided to strip down to our birthday suits and take a refreshing dip. Lo, who used to be on the swim team in high school, made an elegant dive into the deep blue sea. I followed and then Alan. I might add here that Alan’s schlong was quite long and I could see Lo looking up from where she was treading water, lusting after him as he pealed out of his tight shorts. When I was next to her, I said, “Lo, you sure are a good Catholic.”
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“As Jesus said, ‘Be fishers of men, not of fish.’ Looks like you landed a real big one.”
“Oh Daddy. Do you think I didn’t know before how big he is?”
“I should have known.”
Then Alan jumped in. The water was refreshing and it was liberating to be so far out, swimming the way God made us. Lo was swam right up next to Alan. “I’m getting tired of treading water,” she said quite falsely. “Will you hold me a while?”
Alan gladly wrapped his arms around her torso and allowed his left hand to rest on her breast. I watched from a slight distance. I could see Lo gently guide his right hand down to her puss. He was clearly rubbing her clit and soon she was cumming. She loves to cum in the ocean.
After she came, she turned around, wrapping her legs around Alan’s hips, and she held onto him like an aquatic marsupial. They began to make out, but it was awkward because, try as he might, Alan couldn’t keep both of them afloat while simultaneously trying to have intercourse with Lo.
Soon we climbed up the boat’s ladder, Lo first, of course, followed right after by Alan, and I brought up the rear. We were all sitting in the boat, catching our breath and enjoying the invigorating breeze and sunlight for a while. Then Lo went to the front to tan naked. Alan and I put on our shorts and Alan began to drive the boat back towards the marina. We passed a few other boats that waived and blew their horns at the sight of Lo.
About halfway back, Lo got up, grabbed another beer, and then asked Alan if he needed anything. The way she said it, I knew exactly what she meant. Alan said, “No, I’m good.”
But Lo got down on her knees, beer in one hand, and took his cock in her other hand and began stroking it over his shorts.
She looked up at him and said, “You sure?”
He looked down at her and said, “Well. . .” and that was enough for Lo to pull out his cock and take the whole, long pole deep in the back of her throat. She sucked on it and then periodically took a sip of her cold beer. Apparently the contrast between warm and cool was very pleasant for Alan and soon his froth was mixing with the head of the beer in Lo’s mouth. She seemed gratified and proud of her accomplishment.
Alan zipped up and Lo put her bikini back on just before we were within sight of the folks on the dock.
We parked the boat and Lo and I said our goodbyes, apologizing for having to leave so early, but we did have a Thanksgiving dinner to attend.
As we were walking away, Lo, holding my hand, asked me, “Daddy, why didn’t you fuck me on the boat?”
“I enjoyed the show,” I said.
“But didn’t you want me?” she asked.
“I did, but honestly, with the beer, the sun, and after the swimming, I was completely exhausted.”
She rolled her eyes and replied, “You put the ‘old’ in ‘cuckold.’”
We were on our way back to our hotel when, along the way, we found a cozy little bar called “The Village Pump.”
Lola stopped to look in for a moment. “Isn’t that what they called you in high school?” I asked, making a Lola joke.
“I’m rubbing off on you,” she said sardonically, followed by, “Hmmm, that sounds like fun!”
She grabbed my hand to pull me inside. “But Lo,” I protested, “we have to get ready for Thanksgiving!”
“This place is so cute and the back patio spills out right onto the beach,” she protested. “Just one drink. I just want to experience it.”
“Fine,” I conceded as we walked in, to Lo’s delight.
We popped in, each ordered a drink, and we found our way to the beachfront seating in the way back of the bar. Lo looked lovely in her sun hat and her bare feet. She teased and tempted me as we sat there, suggesting all sorts of fun frolics with her feet and licks with her lips. We downed our drinks, paid the tab and then were off to get ready for the Thanksgiving meal.
Back at the hotel, we changed into our casual-formal attire. In Miami everything is casual. We had to change quickly because due to Lo’s epicurean exploits, we were running behind schedule. We got to our friends’ apartment fashionably late, but people were still having cocktails and eating some light hors-d’oeuvres. Lo took a flute of champagne and quenched her thirst with it and then she grabbed me by the hand to pull me aside.
“Follow me,” she said, as she took me to the master bathroom.
Before I even had time to ask her “What?” she was bent over the marble sink in front of the large mirror. “Mount me,” she instructed. She slipped out of her red dress and pulled her tits out of her red bra. I looked at the two of us in the mirror and penetrated her as she wished.
“What’s this all about?” I asked in a whisper.
A Quick Fuck Before the Thanksgiving Meal
“Shut up and fuck me,” she said as she pulled out her phone. She put it on the counter and turned it on. Over her shoulder I could see that she had just got an influx of pics from fans jackin’ it to her divine image. Apparently, they excited her. As she was scrolling through her happy holidays messages, I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick shot of the action – a sexy selfie of us mid-coitus. She came. I didn’t. I was a bit too distracted. But then, just as I was pulling out of her tight, wet slit, the clenching of her cunt on my cock was the little added stimulation I needed to put me over the edge. I came, unexpectedly, all over her ass like icing on a cake.
Hastily, I cleaned her up and then she pulled up her panties and pulled down her skirt.
We hadn’t yet had the Thanksgiving meal, but I knew what I was thankful for.
Lo smiled mischievously as we mingled with the guests. She was happy. I was happy. And our merry-making in Miami was brought to a very satisfying conclusion.