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Lola’s Warm Welcome

Pachu M. Torres illustration

Naked News Flash – Women Get Older! Who Knew?

If you are like me, or simply not living under a rock somewhere, then you probably have been watching a lot of news lately. None of it is particularly good. So, in order to take your minds off of world events for a brief moment, I present a little news worthy distraction. As you all know, I am old. Older than Lo by a long shot. As you might also know, I am, as Lo fondly says, “an incorrigible lech.” How fitting that I am paired up with an incorrigible nympho. Anyhow, for many years, I have been a fan of Naked News and especially of their first news anchor, Victoria Sinclair. She began in 1999 and continued there until 2015. Below you will find some photos of her that I have tried to organize in chronological order, but I will allow you to correct me where I am wrong. She has grown right before our eyes and, in my humble opinion, like a fine wine, she has improved with age. What do you think?

 

Do you see a resemblance or is that just my imagination?

Housewife to Hotwife: Ginger’s Transformation Story

Ginger reading “Sexy Shorts” in her cute “Fuck You” panties

 

Ginger (not her real name) and her family lived not too far from the City of Sin.  Yet, you would never know it from her day-in, day-out routine.  She had met her husband, Joe, in her early twenties when she was wild, winsome, and as wicked as her long red hair suggested.  Before too long they were married, having a baby, and Ginger went from raising holy hell to becoming a happy homemaker.

A few years in and she had gained a few pounds, or quite a few – getting up close to 200.  She was happy, but unsatisfied.  Content, but longing.  Secure, but wanting to feel sexy.

Then, one day, she happened to come across a gym that promised to sculpt, firm, and transform its clients into bikini contest winners.  She signed up.  Within six months she had shed fifty pounds and turned her arms, legs, abs, and glutes into firm flexing features of feminine beauty.  Feminine, not in the sense of delicate and dainty, but in the sense of a Greek goddess – a powerful, proportioned epiphany.

Fit Ginger Hotwife

Soon Ginger was convinced to compete on the bikini beauty circuit and she was winning!!!  Her total transformation garnered her a lot of attention – from friends, family, and fans.  Suddenly, her long ignored libido was longing for more.  Late one night she was in bed, Joe sleeping soundly next to her, as she surfed the web.  She came across mysexlifewithlola.com.  She scrolled, read, and fapped until the sheets were soaked.  Intrigued, she ordered Match, Cinder & Spark: Sexy Shorts.  When it arrived, she shared it with her hubby, reading together in bed.

Fit Ginger Hotwife Faps to Lola

“What do you think?” she nervously asked him.

“Think – about what?”

“About Lola.  What she does.”

“Sexy.”

“Really?  You like that she sleeps with other guys. . . and women?”

“Yeah.”

Ginger saw her opening.

“How would you like it if I did that?” she asked, before going down on him.  She let the question sink in as she sucked his cock.

The next night they read another chapter, “Pride Day,” about Lo jacking off a guy in a bar.

Fit Ginger Hotwife studying up

“Are you willing to share me?” Ginger asked Joe.

“Are you for real?”

“I want to be fucked by many, many men.”

Fit Ginger Hotwife in her strappy shoes and with “Sexy Shorts”

Before too long, Ginger was having parties of five men in hotel rooms, going down on the other female competitors in the bikini contests, and creating an OnlyFans page.  Her hope on the horizon is to become an escort at one of the many legal brothels in Nevada.  Go to work, fuck ten or twenty guys, come home with a bra stuffed with hundreds, lie down next to Joe, tell him about her hard day at work, and have him fuck her well-used pussy as if he were another John.

Fit Ginger Hotwife enjoys being used

This November, she wrote to us to say “Thanks Lo and HH!  Happy Thanksgiving!”

FitGingerHotwife

Hotwife 101

Learn to be a hotwife

Fit Ginger Hotwife – hotpockets!

fitgingerhotwife – anal

11/11

What does Single’s Day mean to you?

 

“Today is Single’s Day,” she said, looking up from her computer screen.  She was on the couch, naked under the throw.

“What’s that?” I asked, sitting at the table, drinking a coffee.

“Single’s Day!”

“You can repeat that as many times as you want, I don’t understand.”

“Eleven eleven.”

I made a confused face.

“One-one, one-one.  Get it.  Singles.  A bunch of singles.”

“What a stripper picks up after her third dance.”

“It’s not a riddle.  Today is Single’s Day because the date spells out four ones.”

“So is it for people looking to have a four-some?”

“It’s for anyone who is single.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, I’m wondering if I’m single or not?”

“How do you identify?”

“Hotwife.”

“There you go.”

“But people are always confused because they think that implied in ‘hotwife’ is wife.  So they think I’m married.  But I’m not.  I’m single.”

“Single, but attached.”

“Single, but dating.”

“Dating, but not faithful.”

“Faithful, but not monogamous.”

“Non-monogamous, but. . .”

“OK, that is too much!  Do you think I should celebrate today?”

“Celebrate being single?”

“Yeah.”

“How would you celebrate?”

“I don’t know.  It’s Single’s Day, so maybe I should have solo-sex.”

“You do that every day.”

“But today I could do it intentionally.”

“So other days it’s accidental?”

“Well, today it would be as part of an international event.”

“Only you could make masturbation an international event!”

“I didn’t do it, Daddy, it’s on the calendar.  It’s just math.”

“Mathematical masturbation, now I’ve heard it all.”

“If you’re into the math, I’ll invite you to observe my figure.”
“Whatever the problem is, that is the correct answer!”

It may be a holiday, but Lola is open for business

Smalltown Strumpet – Flaming Lips

Smalltown Strumpet – Part III: Flaming Lips

Continued From: The Doctor Will See You Now

The Flaming Lips

Lo was out of commission.  There would be no sexy suntanning in the front yard, no strip club short-short shenanigans, no teasing the townies down Main Street.  She spent much of her time submerged in the clawfoot tub or strutting bottomless around the house, airing out her nettle-enflamed pussy.  She had to sit on pillows and masturbating was now out of the question.  This put her in a very unpleasant mood.

Though I wished to attend to her, I needed to get out of the house, lest I bear the brunt of her frustration with her cunt.

I had been working on an article about bestiality portrayed in art and literature through the centuries and thought I’d mosey down to the local library to continue my studies.

Lo had taken a couple of Tylenol PM and was resting comfortably when I slipped out with my computer and backpack.  I figured I had a couple of hours to myself.

The library was a very small brick building.  There were two rooms and a small anteroom at the entrance that contained the check-out desk, a couple of computers, and a display table for new books.

I set up in a small corner of the library, sitting in a large, square, worn brown leather club chair that looked like it was at least as old as I am.  It was remarkably comfortable and the arms were flat, so they were perfect for resting my books and computer around me conveniently.

I began by looking at a blog from Remittance Girl on “Defending the Indefensible: Bestiality in Erotica.”  It was a great place to start my research.  She had written the article in response to censorship of erotica authors by PayPal – an infringement of speech that this very author had suffered by that very company!  They should call it PrudePal.

In her article she referenced one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, and his defense of Chris Handley, among others who have been prosecuted for the material they read, write, draw, collect, sell, or possess.

This led me down a rabbit hole into a morass of law, liberty, and lurid content.  Thank goodness my chair had its back against the wall because if any local busybody were to see the ‘scholarly studies’ I was researching, there’s no telling what would happen.

Actually, there is a telling what would happen and if you have a moment, I will inform you as to the tempest in a teapot that an oversight by me stirred up in that little hamlet.

I was deep into my investigation of Greek portrayals of bestiality and had about ten different books from the library surrounding my chair when I received a text from Lola.  “Where are you, Daddy?”

I guess I won’t be able to start my deep dive into Hokusai and the Japanese tradition of erotic images.  I packed up my stuff hastily, leaving behind the library books in their sprawling spread of towers on the armchair.

Perhaps another time I will get back to you with my developed thoughts on the matter.

I drove back to the house where we were staying, to find Lo fully naked and fully submerged in the tub.  She looked up at me and said, “I’m wet, and not just because I’m taking a bath.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she said.  “But you left me, Daddy!”  She pouted.

“I’m sorry Lo, but. . .”

“Shut up and get naked.”

“I’m not going for a swim.  There’s only room for one in there.”

“Who said anything about that?” she asked as she put her mouth on the edge of the tub and opened wide.  She looked up at me.  “Insert your cock.  I’ll be your cumdump.”

I did as instructed.  She sucked.  I fucked (her face).  Water splashed around.  She contorted in the tub, eventually getting to a position where her legs were going straight up the wall in a “V” formation, her head was tilted back over the opposite side of the tub, and she was squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples as I fucked her face.  With every thrust into her mouth and down her throat, my heavy ball sack was slapping up against her upside-down face, smacking her squarely in the eyes and on the bridge of her nose.  She liked it.

Lo, cooling down her flaming lips

Somehow the plug came undone and the water drained out of the tub.  Lo moved her hands from her tits to her pussy.  She began smacking it hard and then even harder.  She slapped her pussy like a mother spanking a very naughty child, with force and anger, until she finally squirted all over the wall of the bathroom.  The naughty child crying from the pain, perhaps.  Seeing that, I couldn’t control myself any longer and I came directly into Lo’s esophagus.  She gagged and nearly puked in the tub from the odd position of the climax.

I was dreading another trip to the hospital!

She jumped out of the tub, coughing and sputtering like she had been tossed at sea.  Cum was oozing out of her nostrils and she was struggling to catch her breath.  When she finally did, she said something I didn’t quite catch.

“What?” I asked.

“That was awesome,” she repeated.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“This stinging sensation in my pussy lips really makes for an incredible orgasm.”

“You should sit in poison nettles more often.”

“I think I might be able to have sex now, Daddy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but my pussy is still burning.  Do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Grab a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and meet me in the bedroom.”

I did as she asked, wondering how I was going to get hard again in order to give her what she wanted.

I met her in the bedroom and she was lying on her back.

“Take an ice cube and trace it around my labia,” she said.

I gently applied the cold, slippery, dripping ice to her pussy lips.  She loved it.

“Slip it in.”

I inserted it.

“Another,” she said.

I did the same thing a second time.

“Again,” she said.

And a third time.

This continued until there were more ice cubes in her pussy than in a tall glass of lemonade.

“Now fuck me.”

At this point, the eroticism of what I had been doing had me rigid.  Timidly I inserted the tip of my penis just a bit into her ice-packed pussy.

It felt cold.  Freezing, to be exact.  But not unpleasant.

“Fuck me!”

She likes to go from zero to balls-deep in under a minute.

I slide my rod all the way into her snow cone.  There was a curious mixing of hot and cold and wet, since all the ice cubes were melting pretty rapidly inside her.

We had hardly started to stir her dirty Shirley when she said, “Go get more ice.”

I pulled out, feeling a chill on my thermometer, and got another tray of ice.

I inserted my manhood to her ice bucket and as I fucked her, the friction creating heat and melting her internal coolant, she reached over and took fresh ice cubes and, one-by-one, slipped them into her slit over the shaft of my cock.  The tightness, the alternating hot and cold, the slip-sliding of the cubes inside her pussy, was unlike anything I had ever felt.

“Should I put a few in my ass?” she whispered.

I couldn’t answer and before I knew it, she was spreading her ass cheeks with one hand and putting the cubes in with the other.

“Do you want my ass, Daddy?”

I did.  I did, so bad.

I pulled out and slid my hot and cold compress into her smaller icebox and within mere seconds I melted her heart with the heat of my love.

I pulled out and all the white, watery liquid spilled out of both holes as she stood up to go to the bathroom.  It quickly dribbled down her inner thighs to her feet and puddled on the hardwood floor, leaving a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom.  I suddenly heard a loud rattle.  Her remaining ice cubes slipped out and crackled on the tile floor.

“Whoops!” I heard her call.

When she returned, she got on her knees beside the bed and looked up at me.

“Did you like that Daddy?”

“Very much, Lo,” I said.

She licked my balls and continued up my cock and then took the tip of my flaccid shaft into her mouth.  “Can I be your cock-warmer, Daddy?” she asked before taking the entire length of it in her mouth and resting her head gently on my inner thigh.

[To be continued. . .]

Lo’s cockwarmer