Category Archives: queer
Protected: Sister Sodomy
Protected: Passive, Loose, and Open
Deferred Desire
1
Jane and Andrew
Jane and Andrew had just taken their wedding vows. They celebrated with their friends and family. They were both in their forties when they finally tied the knot. After many failed relationships in the past for each of them, they were pleased to finally find each other. They prided themselves on the fact that the cornerstone of their relationship was honesty. They loved each other, they admired each other, and they desired each other.
But in the hotel on the night of their wedding, they discovered something about each other neither of them expected.
Andrew was eager to get Jane out of her white gown and get into her wet pussy. Jane, you see, had been deferring the consummation of their love saying that, though not religious, she wished to wait until they were married before engaging in coitus. Now that the fateful night had come, Andrew’s desire for his bride had reached its pinnacle.
He slowly unzipped the back of the dress and helped Jane out of it with care. She wore a white satin bra, white panties, and lacey white thigh-high nylon stockings. Nearly naked, she sat on the couch and pulled Andrew towards her. He had already removed his tuxedo jacket, tie, and shirt. As he stood in front of Jane, he removed his t-shirt. She had already seen him topless before, but the smoothness of his chest, which lacked any hair, struck her as unusually feminine. But then she unbuttoned the button on his tuxedo slacks and unzipped the fly, pulling the pants down past his pelvis. She was shocked at what she saw!
Instead of boxers or tighty-whities, he was wearing a transparent, satin black thong! His cock was pressed up against the see-through material, barely contained by the tiny triangular fabric, stretching it to almost the breaking point.
“Oh wow!” she said as her face was inches away from the contained cock. She had never seen him nude before. “Are these yours?”
“Whose else would they be?”
“Mine,” she said.
He laughed and said, “No, I didn’t sneak into your panty drawer.”
“So you went to the store to buy these special?”
“These and a lot more like them.”
“I see.”
She slid the pants all the way down to his ankles, revealing a second surprise. He wasn’t wearing black socks, as she assumed. He was wearing sheer lacey black thigh-high nylon stockings, almost identical to hers. In their nylons, they were like yin and yang.
“Well, well, well,” she said, “what is this all about?”
“Do you like?” he asked her nervously.
“I do. Just about anything kinky gets me wet,” she said seductively.
He was thrilled. He had taken a real chance by dressing up like this under his wedding tux, but he had to know how she’d feel about his kinks. All was going to plan. He had suspected it would, but out of fear of rejection, ridicule, or even worse, indifference, he had not revealed this side of himself to her ever before.
“Shall you be Mistress’s little Sub-Boy?”
This question from her took him aback. He had not thought this far along in the chess game.
“I am Mistress’s little Sub,” he said, furtively, fearful of the wrong answer.
“Go fetch Mistress’s bag,” she said to him. He brought to her the large weekender bag she had in addition to her suitcase.
She reached in. He had no idea what was next. Out of the bag she pulled a paperback book – Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts. It had a drawing of a woman in tight blue shorts, bent over on the cover.
“Mistress likes to read,” she said. “Make Mistress an ottoman so Mistress can put her feet up.”
He complied by getting on his knees on the floor and turning himself into a stool for her feet. She sat in the comfortable chair and read while he dutifully demeaned himself to her will. However, time went by and he began to wonder if any relief to the raging erection he had at the mere touch of her silken-clad feet was to come.
“Mistress,” he whimpered.
“Yes little Sub?”
“May I please smell your pussy?”
“Yes little Sub.”
She spread her legs and allowed him a good whiff of her cunt through her white satin panties.
“Mistress,” he asked again.
“Yes little Sub?”
“May I please kiss your ass?”
“Yes little Sub,” she said, turning over in her chair.
He kissed her ass.
“That is all,” she insisted, putting an end to his probing tongue. “Mistress wishes to recline on the couch,” she added. “Stand by me, little Sub, and allow me to amuse myself with your member while I continue reading my book.”
“Yes, Mistress,” replied Andrew, standing at attention, allowing himself to be used and fondled as plaything of her whim.
“Little Sub,” she said eventually.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Lick my clit.”
“Mistress?” he asked, taken aback by the request.
“You heard me. Get on your knees and lick my clit as I read. I have come to a particularly puissant passage and I wish to be stimulated orally.”
She spread her legs and allowed him to pull her panties to the side far enough for his mouth to make contact. All the while she kept reading her book.
He got down between his mistress’s legs and began to lick politely, respectfully.
“Fuck my cunt with your tongue, damn it! Make me cum. Now!” she demanded.
He licked, sucked, flicked, and fucked her orally as best he could.
“Yes, that’s it – make your mistress moan!”
She came, and her cunt drizzled its joyful juices on the white leather couch causing a puddle under her ass.
“Mistress?” he asked once he had emerged from her love-spot.
“Yes little Sub?” she asked breathily.
“Will we ever consummate our love?”
“Little Sub, you have that long protrusion in your panties and I think that as punishment for that, you shall never be able to use it.”
Andrew’s erection grew powerfully in his panties as he contemplated the thought of ever desiring his wife, never satisfying her, never releasing his pent-up phallic powers.
She got up to pee and while she did, Andrew grabbed the book that was lying open to the page Jane had been reading. It was a story called “Pound” and it had some very taboo imagery in it.
“What are you doing?” Jane demanded when she returned.
“Uh, um, reading Mistress.”
“Without permission?”
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
She got on the couch across from him and used her feet to tease his cock as he read.
“Is this the story that brought you to an orgasm?” he asked.
“And if it is?” she replied superciliously.
“Well, then I suppose there are more kinks about you that I have yet to discover.”
“Isn’t that what love is all about – the slow reveal of each other’s depravity?”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“You would if you read more about H.H. and Lola.”
“Am I allowed to cum to her, or them?”
“Absolutely not!”
“But you are?” he asked.
“Mistress’s needs are not for you. Mistress keeps her cunt off limits. All her erotic experience is in the mind, in words, in the denial of the dissipation of your desire. I shall keep you around as my obedient canine. You shall obey your Mistress and never give in to the aching needs between your hind quarters. You shall ever remain in a state of perpetual penile priapism.”
Andrew could not have found a better match for his masochistic longings for a sadistic matriarch to marry.
Protected: ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor
The Body Politic
[An excerpt of the following appeared today in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, November, 2020 issue. Waring, political stuff ahead.]
It’s November of an election year. And not just any election year, but perhaps the most vitriolic, divisive, and ugly election year ever. Well, except for 2016. As I’ve stated before, this sacred, sexy space of ours, this small column in the vast expanse of contemporary writing, steers clear of politics, except for the fact that nothing is a-political anymore. Writing about sex, celebrating sexuality, and depicting a strong, independent, sexually explicit woman like Lola Down is itself a political act.
Lola as depicted by Roman Doodle
But in this very politicized climate, it is nearly impossible to provide a playground where the ubiquitous partisan battles don’t bleed over the boundaries we have created. People on the right have appropriated the term “cuck” as a pejorative for the left. Queer men on the left have appropriated “Proud Boys,” to the consternation of that far-right group. Just beneath the surface of these slogans and slurs is a swirl of sexual energy, frustration, confusion, and subliminal eroticism misdirected and perverted into hatred and violence.
Misogyny, racism, sexism, gender identity politics, transphobia, homophobia, xenophobia, and politization of polyamory are all interrelated issues, impossible to easily separate into isolated questions.
We live in strange times; times I never thought I’d see. The President of the United States is a man married (his third marriage, mind you) to a woman born in a different country who had a career as a model, occasionally posing nude and with other nude women in homoerotic images. And yet, he’s not a radical leftist liberal, but embraced by the conservative Christian right! He has had numerous affairs with porn stars and other women, yet that hasn’t prevented him from gaining the backing of the Bible Belt. But his exoneration by the religious right has not been equally applied. Those who work in the sex industry were not similarly embraced or given the same shame-free-pass as the President.
In 2016 the first female presidential candidate was eviscerated, mainly for wearing a pantsuit. Yet, in 2020, between Hope Hicks, Kayleigh McEnany, Ivanka Trump, Omarosa Manigault Newman, Mercedes Schlapp, Lindsay Walters, Zina Bash, the First Lady, and others, it is sometimes difficult to tell the difference between the White House and the Playboy Mansion. Perhaps that is Trump’s appeal to many; he fills the void left by the death of Hugh Hefner.
Hope Hicks gender bending at the W.H.
And all of this tumult and turmoil, not coincidentally, floats to the surface in the wake of eight years of an African American man occupying the White House.
I mention our current and past political theater as a preamble to confronting a porn/erotica trope as ubiquitous and with as long a history as that of the “Lolita” nymphomaniac figure. I speak of the so-called “Mandingo Myth.” This deep-seated belief, whose pedigree can be traced as far back as Ancient Greece and Egypt, holds that African men wield sexual appendages that dwarf those of fair-skinned Europeans. Throughout the ages, the image of the hugely hung black man has been perpetuated as well as perverted in order to promote a racist agenda: The longer the penis, the more bestial the sex-drive, the less human the man and thus the greater the threat to white society, especially its womenfolk. (See A Mind of Its Own: A Cultural History of the Penis, by David M. Friedman, chapter III, “The Measuring Stick.”)
Lo’s idea of a perfect date
Over the centuries, the long black appendage has been compared to a Priapus (that is, the male fertility god), a donkey, stallion, buck, and even a pre-Adam serpent of the Garden of Eden responsible for Eve’s seduction and the Fall. Throughout the ages, but most prominently in America from Reconstruction onward, this archetype of the African American man’s exceptional endowment has been the focus of white fear and fetish, engendering multiple myths, none of them ending well for the African American man. This theme is almost comically depicted in the various King Kong films, but most explicitly in the 1976 version. Plot: The Petrox Oil Company seeks to plunder a remote island of its oil. They find no natural resources to make their venture profitable, but they do find and trap King Kong, a preternaturally large black ape. They return to the U.S. with their unusual cargo. However, Kong has fallen in love with Dwan (a scantily clad, blonde woman played by Jessica Lange). Unable to allow such an unfathomable relationship, Kong is killed. (In the original 1933 version, he climbs the giant phallus, the Empire State Building. In the ’76 remake, he climbs the World Trade Center buildings, thus doubling the phalli.) The allegory is quite transparent: white colonialists set out for raw materials, they return with slaves from Africa whose unusual size threatens their white women and must be killed.
Jessica Lange in King Kong 1976
A year earlier, in 1975, the same myth was played out, only without the allegorical trappings, in the film Mandingo, based on the 1957 novel by the same name, from which the “Mandingo Myth” gets its label, though its predecessors in white Western mythology predate it by millennia.
Lo and an admirer in the park
How do you measure up?
Unfortunately, today we still find this trope used as both the focus of taboo fetishes (“Blacked” porn, which fetishizes both black men with large cocks and white, usually blonde and petit, women) and phobias for political ends. For instance, in 2017, Enrique Tarrio, the leader of the Proud Boys, posted a tweet in which he asked if white women would be more willing to donate $20 to Trump’s campaign or walk past a group of black men while wearing a sundress. (The Daily Mail, 10/1/2020, “Leader of the Proud Boys is the State Director of Latinos for Trump”)
Lola’s fan
In today’s tribal public sphere, there is little we can agree upon, but one thing that is unimpeachable is, as David Friedman says, the one place where race and sex (and we can add politics) converge is the black penis.
Lola’s COVID Gang-Bang Datenight
The long black dong is the symbol of white, male fragility. It signifies the fear of masculine inadequacy and the homoerotic desire for sexual prowess. Both symbol and signifier are pointers and the thick, strong, dark schlong is frequently depicted as pointing at the helpless, weak, innocent white blonde. Copulation by contrast. This ubiquitous trope penetrates deep in the psyche of our culture.
Just as black men are often reduced to their primal virility as exemplified by the penis, so too women are subtly and explicitly made into a medium for the message communicated by the patriarchal culture. In recent memory, the collective unconscious probably recalls images from silent black-and-white films of a damsel-in-distress tied to the railroad tracks by the sinister mustachioed villain. This image is emblematic of an archetype that transcends time and space: the bound female. Ancient stories span the globe of women tied up – as sacrificial victims, concubines, slaves – from the abduction of Sita in the Ramayana to the afore mentioned Dwan of King Kong and, of course, Princess Leia in her famous Jabba the Hut scene in Return of the Jedi (1983) – project and perpetuate the idea of women as victims in need of a hero.
Lola’s Sexy Shoes
From nude or nearly nude women dancing in cages at clubs, raves, and music concerts, to Taylor Swift reenacting the railroad scene in “Mean,” this trope is conspicuously depicted and sexualized, but there are far more nuanced ways of sending the same message. What is the message? Women are weak, needy, helpless, and their power, like Prometheus (an example of gender inversion of the architype) is under wraps. Notice, if you will, women’s fashion, from undergarments to gowns. What is a recurring theme? Straps, bows, knots, strings, and all manner of imagery suggesting restraint while simultaneously revealing skin. Beyond that, almost every article of clothing is designed to depict weakness, vulnerability, and impotence. Watch your local or national news, for instance. How are the men dressed? Buttoned up shirts, ties, long sleeve jackets revealing the least skin possible. They are formidable, as if wearing body armor. And the women? Blouses cut at the shoulder, plunging necklines, form-fitting soft colored tops. Imagine for a moment what you would think of a male news anchor reporting in a halter-top made of thin, silky material.
Lola Upskirt
Beyond the blouses, there are the skirts. Dresses were, perhaps, originally designed to conceal the shape of the woman hidden beneath all the folds and flourishes. But today, dresses and skirts are designed to inhibit freedom of movement, conceal as little as possible, and leave the woman wearing them vulnerable to the inadvertent upskirt.
Lola in a cute little bow
Working our way down, we next arrive at women’s footwear. High heels keep a woman off balance. Not only do they prevent any aggressive action, they inhibit flight. Women’s dress shoes, for the most part, make them a helpless victim in the face of any danger. Beyond that, they continue the ligature leitmotif. Straps, bows, chords, all depict the female foot in a shibari shoe.
Tied Up
It’s important to recall that liberating oneself from the cultural baggage one inherits by virtue of merely being born into a particular time and place is not accomplished by merely adopting the opposite position. In the dialectical structure, inhabiting the antithesis merely reaffirms the thesis. It does nothing to diminish the power of the thesis. Rather, twisting free of the rigid and possibly oppressive cultural constraints is a tricky and subtle art. It requires first understanding the nature of one’s servitude and then becoming master of it.
Lola is by no means exempt from our culture’s conventions any more than you or I. However, she does like to play with the tropes and taboos just the way that a good composer doesn’t merely adhere to the rules of the times, but will surprise and delight by contorting them in unexpected patterns.
Lola’s Cock
Of course, in our relationship there is the patent hotwife – cuck/stag – bull roles to be played. But we emphasize the play of that is inherent in any roleplaying. Lo has her soft spot for knots (of all variety) and strappy heels, dresses, bras, panties, and even corsets. She also has her wet spot for BBC. But it also delights her to wear her strap-on, to wield her cock, and to fuck like a man. Call her a switch if you wish. She also oogles and drools over the many fan photos she gets from black bulls endowed with length, girth, and heft she has rarely met in the flesh. But she also loves her male trans fans who send photos of themselves in their wives’ panties or cumming in their pantyhose. For, when it comes to sex, the one rule that holds is that nothing is essentially anything. Existence precedes essence, as the Existentialists mantra goes, meaning, before we had determined male/female, man/woman, straight/queer, black/white, there were just people doing stuff. Their names, definitions, categories, and expectations of norms all came later.
TV fan of Lola
These observations are meant neither to condemn nor condone the complex cultural code with regard to BBC or BDSM as it manifests in veiled, seemingly innocuous symbols such as popular movies and fashion. Rather, this thought piece is more along the lines of semiotics (the study of signs and symbols in culture) than a cultural critique. Signs and symbols perform a function; they point at something. In this piece, the sign/symbol with which we began was the black penis, which is, innately and ironically, also a pointer. Perhaps it is pointing at our radical possibility for the future. I simply wanted to point that out.
Smaller Big Fan of Lola
How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown
[Hi everyone! We hope that you boys & girls reading this from home are all safe and healthy. We know you’re sexy! We’re interrupting our usual programing of the mini-series “Mount Bliss” to bring you this story. You, our longtime readers and fans, probably know that most of the stories you read here are true, but HH takes a long time to craft them and so they are not usually about what is happening NOW. This is a little different. It was featured in the May edition of Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM) Magazine (p. 38). It’s appropriate not only because it tell you how we are dealing with life under lockdown, but also it’s appropriate since May is Masturbation Month! We hope you enjoy and we love to hear your stories of how you are doing: downloladown@gmail.com]
How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown
“Fuck me,” she said, “Yeah, like that.”
I looked in the slightly ajar door to see just whom Lola could be fucking during a mandatory lockdown in a global pandemic.
“Oh, yeah,” she cooed as she lay, splayed out on the bed, one hand up inside her, the other squeezing her tits.
She was fucking herself and, apparently telling herself just how much she enjoyed it.
Desperate times, I suppose.
We had been in lockdown for two weeks. It wasn’t so bad. We were in Florida, by the beach, which eventually got closed down. But we had a pool. That too got closed the second week. Now, all we had was each other and our health – a lot to be thankful for, no doubt, but not nearly enough for Lo.
We were both working remotely. It was a little past one in the afternoon. I was trying to do a conference call to Ms. Gale, my secretary, and one other person, but the moans and groans, gasps and grunts from the bedroom could be heard throughout the small apartment we were renting. When she transitioned to actual words like “Fuck me. Yeah, like that,” I had to make an excuse to hang up and go check on my nympho in the bedroom.
I politely waited until she was done – or at least taking a pause from her self-pleasure.
“Lo, come on!”
“What Daddy?”
“It’s one-fifteen.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Don’t you have work to do as well?”
“I’ve always had an hour of me-time scheduled every day on my work calendar, even before this whole Coronavirus thing. Everyone knows not to bother me for this hour.”
“Do they know what you’re doing on your ‘me-time’?”
“Oh no, Daddy. Well, I mean, I guess some of them probably have their suspicions.”
“Let me tell you, if you’re as loud in your office as you are here, then everyone knows.”
“I’m sorry, Daddio. But I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just fuck me.”
“We fucked last night and this morning.”
“So, why not this afternoon?”
“If I fucked you as much as you want it, then I certainly would die during this pandemic, but not from the virus!”
“It’s good exercise.”
“It seems like the only exercise you’ve been getting.”
“Well, the gym’s closed. Besides, the CDC said that the safest sex anyone can have right now is with themselves.”
“The CDC did not say that!”
“Someone said that.”
“Probably you.”
“That doesn’t make it untrue.”
“Good grief! Well, try to keep the sound effects to a minimum. OK? I have calls to make.”
While I work the day away, Lola plays. She carries on about five to ten affairs from afar with various men and women. Her friend, Nero Black, posted about jacking to her photos while his wife, who rarely gives up her goodies to him, jills it in the next room to taboo incest literotica. Yet, the married boy best beware if she happens to walk in on him in the onanistic act of worshipping Ms. Down. Lo has frequently suggested (nay, more than suggested, demanded) that Nero direct his partner’s web browser to mysexlifewithlola, or, at the very least, put the two of them in contact with each other. But, as of yet, he has refrained. Many-a-night I’ve had to hear from Lo about how she would have treated the two of them if she were their couples counselor.
Lo is friends with a lovely married couple from NJ, Mike and Danielle. Mike has been a stay-at-home-dad to his two young daughters while Danielle has done the 9-to-5 at the office. This has left Mike with time to chat with Lo and fap to Lo when the girls are down for a nap. Luckily, unlike with Mr. Black, this has all been on the up-and-up with his wife Danielle. In fact, not only with her blessing, but her encouragement. She loves to come home and see the cumtributes her husband made to and for Lola. Then, after the kids are put to bed, they turn on Lo’s pixilated pussy and fuck each other while looking at Lola.
Sharing Couple from NJ Hubby’s Cumtribute to Lola
Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories
Sharing Couple of NJ Getting off to Lo
Of course, for Lola this is more fodder for the fapper.
Then there’s Floss and Nikki of FlossDoesLife and LoveIsAFetish, respectively. They both have written raving reviews of the Match, Cinder & Spark books and, what gets Lo going even more, took sexy pics of themselves getting off to the printed page. What else are you going to do in isolation?
Floss & Lola
Nikki of LoveIsAFetish getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark
Both Matt and Nelson of tehben.com have also written glowing, yet critical reviews of the audiobook, narrated by the inimitable Jupiter Grant.
The Beautiful Jupiter Grant
Not only do the reviews get Lo riled up, but Lo listens to Jupiter recite tales of Lo’s ribald antics just about every night, which causes her to alternately laugh and lunge in the bed next to me.
Then there’s the various women Lola’s attempting to seduce via sexy chat: Chelle Silverstein, Francesca Demont, and a woman who goes by the cyber-chat name of Warm Skin.
Warm Skin Getting off to Lo
Don’t get me wrong, this whole ordeal has taken its toll on all of us in so many ways, and Lo is not exempt from that. There are the nights that Lo can’t sleep due to anxiety about losing her job. Afternoons that Lo returns from food shopping and has a full-blown panic attack that she has contracted the virus and is certain to pass it on to me. Lo’s greatest fear? – dying alone. That means, if I die first, which is more than likely given our age difference, then who will be there for her? So, worse than her getting sick, in her mind, is my getting sick and dying! There is the frequent fretting about family members who are already fighting this virus in far-flung points on the map. Yes, we don’t talk about family too much here, but we do have relatives who are now among the ever-growing statistics you read about in the news.
For Lo, the go-to stress relief from all this ever-higher mountain of seen and unseen woe is found right between her legs.
Lo practicing Social Distancing Stress Relief, pass it along.
Finally, of course, there is just your straight-up porn that Lo has been watching. Lo has a penchant for amateur porn and her latest infatuation is with the couple Lindsey and Mike Love. Just as Lo and I fulfill the fantasies of many of our fans, I believe, Lindsey and Mike live out the fantasy life of Lo. A married couple who enthusiastically got into porn together from the tender age of eighteen and rise to amateur stardom, getting rich and having fun. I think the thing that Lo likes the most about the pair is that they have a real relationship, a story, and that they are very open to exploring sex with all genders, together and solo.
An hour later, Lo emerged from the bedroom. “Daddy, it’s hot in there. Will you help me open the window?”
I entered Lo’s lair of self-love. I opened the window with ease to let in the ocean breeze, but it immediately deflated downward.
“Is it broken?” asked Lo.
“I don’t know. It definitely doesn’t stay up like it used to.”
Without missing a beat she quips, “I’m sure you can relate.”
Stay safe everyone and we’ll see you on the internet.
Lola in all her glorly!
“The Good Place”
[We interrupt the mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” to bring you this timely tale of Lo’s date from Easter last year. We hope you enjoy it and hope that you have also been enjoying the mini-series. We will do our best to continue with the last few installments of the series this week. Happy Easter to everyone! We hope you are all safe, healthy, happy, sexy, and enjoying all of our content!”
“The Good Place”
It was Easter Sunday morning and we could both sleep late, finally. But I awoke to Lo screaming, “Fuck! God! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!!!” and a buzzing sound. I felt the sprinkle of her holy water on my foot and then she turned to me and said, “Oh, morning! Best alarm clock ever, right?” as she shut off her Hitachi Magic Wand and pulled it out from under the blankets. She jumped out of bed, bare-ass, and said, “You have to get up now, Daddy, because I have to strip.”
“You’re already naked.”
“I have to strip the bed. Get up.”
Reluctantly I got out from under the blankets as she peeled them off the bed to reveal the puddle she had made. She removed the sheets and tossed them in the laundry basket.
“A happy Easter to you too,” I said sarcastically. “Was that you reciting the Rosary?”
“No, but I can get my beads, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“What beads?”
“My anal beads, of course.”
“You are a sacrilegious sex-addict!”
“You are a silver-tonged poet!”
“Now that we have stroked each other’s egos, what else would you like to stroke?”
As she was taking out the fresh sheets, she picked up her Hitachi and said, “Now I know why they call it a Magic Wand! Because it does the trick every time!”
Meanwhile, I was standing naked, my cock saluting her sexy body as she moved and jiggled making the bed.
Once the corners were all tucked and the bed turned down, I jumped in.
“Hey!” she said, “I just made that!”
“Yeah, well it was made just for me.”
“No, it was made for me. . . to get laid.”
“I don’t object to that.”
“Later,” she said, to my great disappointment.
“What do you have to do now?”
“I have a date.”
“What?!”
“A date, with a girl.”
“What?!” I said again.
“Yeah, I took out another ad,” she said, nonchalantly, as she tossed her phone on the bed for me to see.
Lola’s Ad featuring Lola Getting Off to her 18″ dildo
Adventurous, sexy, intelligent, fun female seeks the same for good time out on the town and in the bedroom. I like to dominate and, occasionally, be dominated. I’m experienced and in an open relationship, but he will not be part of this. Trysexual – I’ll try anything! D&D Free. You be too. NO GUYS! Must have voice confirmation. Send e-mail with info about you and pics. Need not be explicit, but must show face.
“When did you do this?” I inquired.
“A while ago,” she said in her Scarlett O’Hara voice as she put on her pink thong panties. “And my date is today.”
“Can I come along?” I asked. It was more like pleading.
“No! Didn’t you read the ad?”
“Yes, but. . .”
“No buts.”
“But your butt. It’s such a nice butt. And it’s such a nice day. Where are you going?”
“We’re meeting for coffee at the café around the corner.”
“I’ll just sit by you.”
“No, you’ll make me self-conscious.”
“Please.”
I must have been very pathetic because she finally gave in.
“Fine, but you have to wait at least ten minutes before you leave, and don’t sit anywhere near me.”
“OK. I’ll just sit where I can see you.”
She put on her cutest pink skirt and white t-shirt top, little baby blue pumps, and grabbed a designer handbag.
“How do I look?”
“You’re missing something.”
“What?”
“A pink Easter bonnet.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. Remember, ten minutes!”
“Yes, I know. I still have to get dressed anyhow.”
She was out the door and I rifled through my drawers to find something inconspicuous to wear. I put on the first things I found and dashed outside. I could see Lo’s little caboose sashaying down the street about fifty yards ahead of me. It was a beautiful sight along with the pink blossoms on the trees and the budding tulips.
I slowed down as Lo found her date and introduced herself, sitting down next to her at a little table on the sidewalk. Either her date got there early or Lo was late. In either case, Lo’s date was a very cute redhead with freckles. Lo had her back to my approach.
I was hoping to get a seat in the restaurant where I could safely spy on the two of them from behind the plate-glass window. But the hostess seated me outside, just diagonally from them both. Not only could I see everything, I could hear them too! At first Lo didn’t see me, thank goodness, because she would have been very cross at me.
They ordered breakfast and mimosas. I did too.
Lo’s date was not at all what I had expected. Usually the people who reply to these personal ads are men and women (or couples) roughly about Lo’s age – early to mid-twenties. But maybe due to the aging of the technology and its becoming obsolete by newer apps, like Tinder and Bumble, it’s an older crowd that is cruising the virtual personals. (By the way, Lo doesn’t use those more popular apps because she’s afraid of being recognized by her colleagues, or worse, students!) This woman was in her mid-thirties, at least. Maybe forty, but it’s hard to say. Long strawberry-blonde hair, thin, wearing denim shorts, high wedges with straps, and a loose-fitting black blouse. She rocked the outfit, but I was surprised to see a woman who looked like she could be a mom.
The seats outside filled up and it got a little louder. I found it difficult to hear them, but I caught snippets of their conversation. The mystery woman (I didn’t know her name yet) was asking about Lo’s “half-open relationship.” I heard Lo reply, “I’m not homosexual or heterosexual, bi-sexual, or even metro-sexual. I’m very sexual.” I’m sure she followed that with a pass of her tongue over her pearly white teeth.
The woman continued along the same lines, inquiring about Lo’s promiscuity (in a polite way) and Lo said, “I don’t call it slutty. I call it getting my needs met.”
I could see that Lo’s date liked this sort of talk. Lo can be very direct. The date reciprocated. I heard her say, “Your pussy and panties must smell so good!”
To which Lo replied, “Like roses and cotton candy.”
When they had finished their meals and were drinking coffee, the waitress brought them each a complimentary Cadbury egg for dessert. Lo was elated. She unwrapped it and then slowly bit into the chocolate and then said, “Mmmmm, I love to lick out the cream!”
“Me too,” said her friend. “How about we go back to your place?”
“I’m wide open to that idea,” said Lo, and I could see her uncross her legs and remove her foot from her shoe to rub her friend’s calf. “But,” she added, “my man is there right now.”
I wanted to leap up from my seat and say, “No, no! I’m not. I’m right here! Go right ahead.” But I had to keep silent.
Her friend looked very disappointed. Lo hates to disappoint. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, “maybe I can text him and tell him to leave us alone for a couple of hours.”
Her friend perked up at that idea. Lo took out her phone and soon I got a text saying, “Is it ok, Daddy?” Thank goodness my phone was on silent, because the sound of it going off with a text message may have looked suspicious.
I texted back, “Is what ok?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’re sitting right there. Is it ok for me to take Meri to our place for a while?”
“If that pleases you,” I texted back.
Lo smiled at her friend. They paid the bill and soon were off to fuck, leaving me with nothing to do on Easter morning. I didn’t even bring a book!
About two hours later and about eight miles of strolling through our sunny city streets, I finally got a text from Lo. It said, “Exhausted! Come home.”
I hightailed it back to our place only to find Lo in the messed bed, naked again.
“Come here,” she said.
“Still love me?” I asked first.
She pulled down the covers and spread her legs as far apart as they would go and said, “Daddy, I love you THIS much!”
“Will you tell me each and every detail?”
“You know I will. I have a pornographic memory.”
I got naked and lay on top of her and plunged my rod deep in her hole.
She said, “Uh uh. No. In my ass. My cunt is worn out.”
I flipped her over on her tum and slid right in.
“You’re so slick,” I said.
“I’m a well-oiled machine,” she replied.
“Now tell me,” I insisted.
“Believe it or not, Meri is a mother of three and the oldest is eighteen!”
“I can’t believe it,” I said, both about what Lo had said and how good her rear entrance felt. “You fucked a mom?!”
“More like she fucked me. She’s been married twenty-two years and has never before been with a woman.”
“Really?”
“She got permission from her husband to find someone to show her the ropes.”
“There were ropes involved?”
“Shut up and keep fucking my ass.”
I am good at taking instructions like that.
“We got here and she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes and hop into bed. No small talk, no foreplay, nothing. So I asked her, ‘What do you want? To do me or me to do you?’ She said she wanted to do me. She wanted to fuck me good and hard. She has quite the domineering streak about her. So I pulled out my dildo and placed it in her hands. She was amazed at the size of it. I told her not to be shy. I slipped out of my panties and pulled my skirt over my waist and lay on the bed with my legs spread. She began by fingering me. She asked if it was ok first, which I thought was nice. I said, ‘Just fuck me like your little whore.’ That got her going. She used the dildo on my puss, ramming it fast and hard, hitting my spot. She never saw a woman squirt before in real life and she was thrilled that she was able to do that for me! Little did she know that I squirt just about every time.”
Our next book will be called “Slut Life” about Lola’s adventures by the ocean
“Are you squirting now?” I interrupted to ask, since I felt her juices dripping down my thigh.
“Not yet, Daddy. I’m just soaked.”
I increased my speed and depth.
“That’s it,” she said. “Like she did with the dildo in my cunt.”
She pulled up a photo of Meri from her phone to look at it. “She has great tits,” Lo said as she began squirting on me with force, soaking the bed. She suddenly fell forward, lying flat on her tum in the puddle she made, convulsing like a fish out of water. There was no way I could stay in her. I grabbed my drenched, hard baton and lay on my back next to her.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head. She was temporarily blitzed out.
When she came to, she said, “What an amazing day!”
“Full of Easter Eggs,” I said, jokingly.
She played with my hard cock with her right hand, seeing how it bounced back into its rigid upright position when she would bend it down.
“Christ has risen. Christ will cum again,” she said, stroking my member from the base to the tip.
“Good for Christ, but I haven’t cum once!”
She pivoted on her tum so her mouth was over my cock and she put out her tongue as if to receive Holy Communion. “May I have your flesh?” she asked.
She took my cock in her mouth and slid up and down the shaft. She went all the way down to my balls and took them in her warm, wet mouth. It felt good, but I needed sweet release. She returned to the tip and looked up at me.
Momentarily, she pulled up off my cock in order to say, “I wanted to go down on her. I wanted to return the fuck for her. But she didn’t let me. She just fucked me fast and furious and filled my cunt with all sixteen inches of my dildo. I didn’t get to give her any pleasure at all, other than the pleasure of pounding me like a boss.”
Lo went back down on my dick looking up at me again. “Am I a good girl, Daddy?” she asked, looking for approval.
“Did Meri think you were a good girl?”
“I don’t know,” she said as her fingers fondled me between my legs, lightly. “I came by the bucket load, and then she said she had to get going. She had plans with her family for Easter, she said. She got dressed and simply blew me a kiss as she let herself out. I was too weak to even get up. I used my skirt to soak up what I could and texted you.”
“You’re a very good girl,” I said.
I was lying on my back and she got up, straddled me with her knees beside my hips, and she grabbed her ass cheeks with each hand, spread them, and slowly let herself down on my erect cock, guiding it directly into her anus, slowly. I’m not nearly as long as her dildo, but she slid down on me until she was sitting on my pelvis. She pulled her feet in between my legs and sat there, her back to me, and she rocked gently back and forth to feel me deep inside her. I could feel the tip of my member penetrating as far up as possible. She spread her legs and began fingering her clit. She grabbed her red dildo, the one that Meri had used on her, and slipped it up and in her pussy. I could feel it enter her. She was filled and tight and moaning a tune of pleasure. I lay on my back enjoying her ride. She called over her shoulder to me, “Cum in me. Cum. Cum and fill me up. I want to feel your hot. . .”
She didn’t finish her command before I obediently complied. I pulsed with strong spurts of spunk into her hole. She tightened her grip on me even further and I felt as if she wouldn’t let go. I didn’t mind. I liked being there, deep inside her.
I felt her slide the dildo out from her front hole as she squirted down onto her ankles. And then, after a long sigh of relief, she slowly lifted her bum up off of me. I slid out of her as she eased her way up, with both hands grabbing her ass again, and she let all of my cream filling slowly leak out onto my flaccid cock.
Her whole body crumbled as if, deprived of my rigidity, it had no strength to remain upright. She lay next to me on the bed. She curled into her little spoon as I cuddled her as her big spoon. She fell off to sleep in the midst of all the mess she and I had made together, not to mention the mess Meri had made of her. It was only a cat nap. When she awoke, I whispered in her ear, asking her, “Would you like to watch an episode of “The Good Place?”
“Mmmmmm,” she said, moving her right hand behind her, reaching down to my cock and then inserting a finger in her soaked ass, and she said, “This is the good place.”