Category Archives: Sex

Thigh Gap

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Because of her trysts with Robert, Lola stopped fucking me for a while.  I turned to my right-hand woman: Stoya.  But Lola found out.  Don’t ask me how.  A woman’s sixth sense, I suppose.  Lola told me I can have whatever I want, so long as I ask for it.  But I’m too proud to ask.  I’m used to being asked by her.

I went into the bedroom and I texted to Lo, who was in the living room, “Hello Stoya, It’s just you and me now.”

She texted back, “If you want something, ask for it.”

I responded, “Come here and jack me off.”

She entered the bedroom and said, “I’ll jack you off, on one condition.”

I didn’t say anything or even move.

“Do you hear me?”

“I’m all ears. . . and a dick.”

“After I jack you off, you will write that story about me and Robert.”

“You expect me to write on commission?!  I’ve never been more insulted in my life!  I’m an artist, a poet, a philosophical. . .”

“A pompous ass and a purveyor of pornographic smut.”

“Now that’s just redundant.”

“No, it would be smut writing even without the pornographic images of me.  The pornography just makes it fun to look at as well.”

“Fair enough, but still unfair to my artistic sensibilities.”

“You’re not sensible at all!  You’re the furthest from sensible.  You’re immersed in your senses.  That’s why you’re such a great writer of erotica.”

“Well, now you’re pandering to my vanity.”

“Your vanity is six-fifths of your ego.”

“And?”

“Never mind.  Are you going to write the story or what?”

“Of course I’m going to write the story, but not because you’re going to give me a hand-job.  I’m going to write for art!  Art!  Do you hear me?”

“Who’s this fella Art?  Have I fucked him?”

“Droll, dear, very droll.”

We both got naked and I placed my cock in a prominent position above her naked body.  Her legs were spread and her pussy lips were wet and partially parted.

“Why do you only want me to jack you off when you have your cock poised right between my pussy lips?”

“Because,” I retorted snidely, “if you want something, you have to ask for it.”

She reached between her legs and began slowly stroking me.  Then she got an idea.  She grabbed Stoya from the nightstand and applied her wetness to Stoya’s pussy.  She then bent over the side of the bed and put the entire contraption between her legs; the imitation pussy just below her actual pussy.

“Fuck the pussy you want,” she said.

Just to get her goat, I fucked Stoya.

She turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I’m fucking Stoya.  No kidding,” I said.

I liked being able to see her hole as I filled the insentient being held in place by her thigh gap.

I continued like that, as she grew bored and impatient.  As I felt myself leading up to a climax, I pulled out of Stoya and flipped Lo on her back in order that she would feel the heat of my love on every part of her body except between her legs.  (Also, cleaning my cum out of Stoya is a pain in the ass.)  After mopping up the cum on her face, neck, and tits, she pulled out her Hitachi.

“Are you just going to sit there?” she asked me as she placed the vibrating toy between her legs.

“That’s exactly what I was planning on doing,” I said, “so you can ejaculate on me and we can call it even.”

“As fun as that sounds,” she said, “you have work to do.  Go get writing while I get myself off.”

Absolution

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[Continued from “Holding on Comes Easy“]

Last I remembered, Lo had engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between Robert and me.  When I woke in the morning, she was sound asleep, her back toward me, and Robert had his hands around her waist.  I was turned toward them, my arm drooped over her side, my hand fondling her breast, and my cock rigid and eager for more attention.

I carefully extricated myself from the bed, found a robe and quietly went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

As I sat down to take my first sip, Lo suddenly appeared in the kitchen wearing one of Roberts t-shirts and nothing else.  She was carrying a bundle of clothes.

“Here,” she said, passing the clothes off to me.

“And a good morning to you too,” I said sarcastically.

“Get dressed.”  They were my clothes.

“What?”

“Get dressed.  You have to get out of here.”

I was perplexed.  “What do you mean I. . .”

“Imogen is still sleeping.  When she wakes up, she can’t find you here.  Remember, she thinks I’m Robert’s girlfriend and you’re just Robert’s friend.  You have to go home.”

“Are we still putting on that little ruse?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, why don’t I just crawl into bed with Imogen?”

Lo gave me an angry look.

“Ok, Ok,” I said.  “I’ll get dressed and go.”

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek to show her appreciation.  “Don’t worry, Daddy,” she said, “I will make it up to you.”

My cock must have liked her tone because it immediately popped up like a little puppy who just heard the treats bag open.

“Nope, none of that now,” said Lo curtly, before turning tail and returning to the bedroom with Robert.

I dutifully got dressed and went home to shower, have more coffee, and nurse my hangover.

Sometime later I got a call from Lo.  She sounded out of breath.

“Lo?”

Pause.  “Yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

Pause.  “Yeah.”

“Are you at Robert’s?”

Pause.  “Yeah.”

“Are you fucking?”

“Yes, Daddy, he’s behind me, fucking my ass now.  What would you like us to do next?”

 

 

 

I won’t deny that I was titillated by the call, but I was also furious.  I was home, hard-up and hungover, while she was being banged by her backdoor man.

“I want you to tell me you love me.”

Long pause.  “I – I – I love you, Daddy,” I heard.

I put the phone down for a moment and hurriedly grabbed my Stoya Fleshlight, some lube, and picked up the phone again.  Lo was screaming.  I could hear Robert smacking her ass.

“Daddy, I love you,” she repeated.

I slid the prosthetic vagina down on my cock.  I held the phone with my left hand and slid the contraption up and down with my right.  I listened to Lo getting fucked.  She was calling out, “Harder.  Harder.  Deeper.  Cum in my ass.  Cum deep in my ass.”  As she was saying that, I thought of how Robert came in her mouth after fucking her ass yesterday.

“Daddy,” she said into the phone, “I want him to cum in my ass.  Do you want him to cum in my ass too?”

My eyes were shut.  I was vividly imagining her bent over his dresser, Robert behind her, looking at her tits swinging in the mirror as he fucked her from behind.  I pictured her left hand holding the phone to her ear and her right hand moving back to her ass, pulling her right cheek to spread as wide as she could go for him to bury his long dick in her bum.  Maybe she was fingering her hole as well.

I heard her ramping up, going into the overture to her orgasm.

I slid Stoya’s cunt up and down more vigorously and I could feel my cuckolded cum rising to the surface.  Lo launched into her operatic aria and I could hold out no longer.  I came and came deep inside Stoya as Robert came deep inside Lola.

A perfect triple play!

After we all were able to bask in the beauty of the trifecta, Lo stayed on the phone with me as Robert went to clean up.

“Did you like that, Daddy?” she asked.

“You.  Are.  Amazing,” was all I could say.

“Do you like seeing him make me cum, Daddy?”

“I didn’t see you,” I said, confused.

“I meant yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said.  “You’re a dirty, dirty girl.”

“Am I bad?”

I changed the topic, fearing she’d get all riled up again.  “Is Imogen still there?” I asked.

“Oh her?  No.  She woke up, I think a little embarrassed and very hungover, and we called her a cab.  She only had fragments of memory from last night, but she asked me to say something nice to you.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“She really just said, ‘Say something nice to him.’”

I laughed and she did too.  Apparently all was forgiven.  Nothing absolves me of my transgressions like Lola’s seducing men to sodomize her.

Holding On Comes Easy

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[Continued from “Lusting for Infidelity“]

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that from?” he asked.

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

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

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

“That’s not the expression,” I said.

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

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

“Just reciting poetry,” said Robert.

“Really?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feed it to Me

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Faye Danielles Getting Off to Lo’s Pics

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess,” I said.

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

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

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

“It looks great on you.”

“It’s too constricting.”

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

“Just anything but that.”

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

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

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

“Touché.”

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

“Who says?” she pouted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I selected a different delight for her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lola

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

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

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

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

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

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

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

“She’s pretty smart, too,” I added.

“That goes without saying,” he replied.

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

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

“Daddy?” she opened.

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

“Are you mad?”

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

“Kiss me,” she said.

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

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

She replied, “You mean crudités?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

Romancing the Stone

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Lo’s Blue Dress

I was asleep when she walked in the dark bedroom.  Nights like this, when she spends the night out with friends or lovers, it isn’t quite sleep.  It’s more of a restful repose, just barely below the surface of consciousness.  When I heard the bedroom door open, I was instantly awake, but I didn’t dare open my eyes or stir.  I like to spy on her from the darkness.  With one eye open, I saw her remove her blue dress.  She wasn’t wearing a bra.  She had been wearing a bra when she left the house.  She wasn’t wearing panties when she left, so it was no surprise that she wasn’t wearing panties now.  She slipped out of her heels and walked barefoot and bare assed into the bathroom.  She turned the light on.  She sat, peed, got up, brushed her teeth, and then slid under the covers next to me.

“I know you’re awake,” she whispered.

“Now I am,” I said.

“And I know you’ve been a bad boy,” she said, reaching down to my crotch and grabbing my hard cock.

“Look at you – kitten calling the cock back.”

She chuckled and said, “The expression is the kettle calling the pot black.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You left your vagina in the bathroom,” she said, disapprovingly, speaking of my Stoya Fleshlight.

“It needs to air dry.  That’s what it says in the instructions.”

“So you used it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Unlike Stoya, I don’t air dry.  I’m always wet.  Very wet.”

Stoya, Stoya’s Fleshlight, Art of Lola Down

“And full of Robert’s cum?”

“Get in me and find out.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” I said.

I climbed on top of her and spread her legs.  I slid in and sloshed about.  She moaned.

“Tell me,” I whispered in her ear.

“Am I wet?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Loose?”

“Very.”

She likes to hear how slippery and slutty she feels to me.

“Good,” she cooed in my ear.

“Tell me, what happened.”  I was eager.

“You first,” she said.

“What?  Why?”

“Because, if I tell you, you’ll cum and I want to hear about your night before you cum.”

She had a point.  Well, she had two points if you include what I was giving her below the sheets.

“Well, I began by looking at the blog of TJ like you suggested.”

“Yes.”

“She’s so like you, it’s uncanny.”

“I know.”

“But that just made me want you.”

“Good.”

“And as I was thinking about you with Robert, I took out the Stoya Fleshlight and went through your photos.  I looked at all the cumtributes you get from guys.  I looked at the pics you sent to Robert and others.  And then I came.  I came hard.”

“You came already tonight?!”

I thought she was mad.  Meekly, I said, “Yes.”

She came instantly.

When she recovered I asked her, “Are you mad?”

“No.  I’m just shocked that you’re hard again.”

“For you, Lo.”

“Are you sure you didn’t cum to TJ?”

TJ cumming to Lo

 

“Yes.  Very.”

“Good,” she said.

“Your turn,” I reminded her.

“Well, Daddy,” she began, knowing how to butter me up, “we met for drinks.  He thought I looked great.  I know I looked great because Robert wasn’t the only one staring at me.”

Just the thought of her walking into the bar was enough to put me over the edge.  I had to slow down while she continued talking.

“We had a couple of drinks,” she said in her soft voice directly into my ear, “and then went to the theater.  It had the big, leather, recliner chairs.  But those aren’t great for romance.  There’s the big, bulky armrest in separating you.  We were sitting in the very last row and I put my seat way back.  When the movie came on, I let the hem of my dress slide up and up and up.”

“Was he touching your knee?”

“He couldn’t reach.  But he could see.  It was an odd movie, but there were a few sexy scenes in it.  And Emma Stone. . .”  She trailed off as she came again.

Catching her breath she said, “Get behind me,” as she pulled out her phone to look at sexy pics of Emma Stone.

I got behind her and glanced over her shoulder at her phone.  “Get back there and fuck me like you fucked Stoya!” she commanded.

I grabbed her hips and pulled her ass back as I thrust forward, deep into her.  I could feel the tip of my cock dipping into her deep well where someone else had already cum and gone.

Emma Stone The Favourite

“I just touched myself during the sex scenes,” she said in between gasps.  “He watched me.  He wanted me.  His right hand held my left and I squeezed hard every time my right hand brought me to an orgasm.”

She came as she recalled her climaxes in the theater.

“At a more boring point in the movie I got on my knees in front of him and pulled out his cock.  I put it in my mouth and went to town on it.”

Luckily for her and for me, I had cum earlier in the night and so was able to weather this blow-by-blow account.

“He didn’t cum, which disappointed me.  You know how I like to feel successful at everything I do.  I think he was nervous we’d get caught.  He lifted me up and tried to place me back in my seat, but I simply lifted up my tight blue dress and eased my ass down on his hard rod.  Sitting on his lap, like a stripper in the club, I slowly slid back-and-forth.  He came deep inside me.  That was just before the movie ended and as we walked out, I could feel his cum oozing down the inside of my legs.”

That was all I could take.  I exploded deep inside her, adding to her collection for the evening.

“That’s it, Daddio,” she said as I reached under her and slid my arms up to her breasts and held her tightly.  “Use me.  Make me yours again.  Fill me up.  Make me your cum-bucket.”  I collapsed on top of her and held her in my arms while imaginings of her night flickered through my rapidly darkening mind.

For All and None

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Recently it was the 200th anniversary of Herman Melville’s birth and just about every report of the event included the phrase, “died in near obscurity.”  This phrase, “near obscurity” has been bouncing around in my head.  What is meant by “near” exactly?  I understand obscurity.  By far, the vast majority of authors die in obscurity, that is why, other than those whom I have personally known, I cannot name any of them.  But what constitutes near obscurity for an author?  Nietzsche, too, died in near obscurity.  One might even say that Thoreau died in almost complete obscurity.  Same with Zora Neale Hurston, Emily Dickinson, and Sylvia Plath.  For each of these luminaries of literature, at the time of their deaths, either the light of their past glory had faded or, like Kafka, they never had any fame during their brief tenures above ground but, due to unforeseen assistance from the universe, their stars began to rise only after their mortal flames had expired.

Like you, I have frequently seen the bumper sticker advice of: Dance like no one is watching.  Recently, though, I came across someone whose blog bio read: Write like no one is reading.  (Unfortunately, that author’s name has escaped me, and so she must remain, to me at least, obscure.)  That quip really stuck with me, just like the phrase “near obscurity.”  These two adages knocked around in my brain like billiard balls.

Writing as if no one is reading is a liberating thought.  It is permission.  It is license.  It is dangerous and risky.  And so, perhaps, living, writing, and even dying “in near obscurity” isn’t so bad after all.

(It’s also important to recall that “obscurity” has a second meaning as well: unclear, difficult to understand, complex.  Maybe that characterization doesn’t apply so much to this blog, but much of my writing would be aptly described as “almost totally obscure” in both senses of the word.)

When I look at our blog stats and I see that there are over one million views and over a thousand comments on the blog, not to mention all the other eyeballs watching Lola and me in our most intimate prose in other platforms around the blogosphere, and leaving out all the books we have sold over the years, I suddenly realize that there certainly are readers of what I’m writing.  Yet, when you compare the numbers, it is easy to feel as if no one is reading.  Various sources state that in there are approximately 500 million blogs in existence as I write this.  That means that even if we round up all the various platforms upon which we appear to five million views, then that doesn’t even comprise 1% of just the writers out there, let alone the readers!  Yes, multiple blogs may be owned by one person and writers are also readers, but you get my mathematical point, right? – Though people are reading the blog, it is “nearly obscure,” given the vastness of the virtual universe.

But the injunction to write like no one is reading is not saying that I shouldn’t have any audience at all.  It’s saying to write as if the audience didn’t exist, just as I might dance as if all of you beautiful people on the dance floor with me weren’t judging my awkward movements.  If the music so moves me and it gives me joy to dance, however I might express that joy, then, by all means, I dance as if no is watching.  Same with writing.

Yet you million or so people out there, and especially you lovely likeminded literary leches out there who write to us – you do read us and thereby keep us from the cold uninhabited reaches of the blogosphere where we would be in complete obscurity.  For that we thank you.

Autoerotica

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2


Lo, at it again

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

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

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

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

            I walked in and removed my jacket and tie. 

            “What you up to?” I inquired.

            “I bet you’d like to know.”

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

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

            “I’m already hard,” I said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “She writes The Lustful Empress.”

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

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

            I resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

            “My date.”

            “Date?”

            “With Robert.  I told you, didn’t I?”

            I just looked dumbfounded. 

            “We’re going to the movies.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what are you seeing?”

            “The Favourite.”

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

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

            “Really?  Not a porno?”

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

            “I knew it!”

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

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

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

            “So why are you going to see it?”

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

            “And?”

            “And probably to fuck in a dark theater.”

            “Don’t get caught.”

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

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

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

            “Who?”

            “TJ, the woman from the blog.”

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

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

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

            We read and looked at the photos together. 

Lola
TJ of The Lustful Empress

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

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

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

            “Oh boy,” I said, “You want her.” 

            Lo bit her lower lip.

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

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

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

            “What time is your movie?”

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

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

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

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

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

            I got up and looked at her in the shower.

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

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

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

            “Lo, now you’re just. . .”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stoya Left, Lola Right

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

Cums, Shoots, & Leaves

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6


More!

            Lo’s trysts with Robert continued on a fairly regular basis.  He’d text.  She’d encourage him to come.  He would.  But as his drop-ins became more frequent, the novelty of it began to wear off for Lo, and perhaps for Robert as well.  And so they would engage in different, ever more elaborate conceits to involve me in their affair.  I shall mention just a few of them here.

            Though I sat merely yards away from where they were going at it in the bedroom, one time Lo called me on her phone from there to the living room.  I could practically hear her talking, even without the use of the phone, yet she spoke to me as if I was far off in another town. 

            “Daddy, do you want to know what Robert is doing to me now?”

            “What’s he doing, Lo?” I asked, nonchalantly. 

            “He’s behind me, fucking me doggy-style.  His cock is so long, it’s hitting my spot perfectly,” she said, following it up with a long moan that I could hear perfectly in the living room. 

            Another time, as they were going at it in the bedroom, Lo took a selfie.  She was doggie-style, he behind her.  She made a big ‘O’ with her mouth as if she were in ecstasy.  She texted the photo to me. 

            A different night, after I showed Robert into the bedroom and I was about to turn to leave, Lo stopped me.  She was naked under the sheets.  Robert was fully dressed and anxious.  Lo said, “Wait, Daddio.”

            “Yes,” I asked, like a dutiful servant in a nineteenth century English manor house. 

            “Tonight I’m going to give Robert my ass,” she said.

            “And?” I asked politely.

            She fumbled in the nightstand drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube.  “Will you grease me up?” she asked, pulling down the sheets, turning over, protruding her ass in the air and pointing to her special spot. 

            Devotedly, I took the lube and covered my index finger with it and proceeded to spread it all around her target as she moaned and wiggled her ass.  I then inserted my finger in and out as Robert looked on.  “Like this, Lo?” I asked.

Right there!

            “MmmmmHmmmm,” she said, “More.” 

            I continued.  She orgasmed, collapsing into the bed. 

            “That will be all,” she said dismissively.  “Robert, I’m ready for you.”  And she slid on her tum so that her legs were spread on the floor and she was bent over at a ninety-degree angle on the bed.  I saw Robert unbuckle his belt and undo his pants as I slowly closed the door.  I heard Lo moan as he entered her and I walked down the hall.

            “Daddio,” I heard her call once more, just as I got to the living room.

            I returned and knocked on the door. 

            “Come in,” said Lo, struggling to speak.

            I entered the room.  Robert had already entered her.  Lo looked up at me.

            “Daddio,” she said.

            “Yes?”

            “Do you want to fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass?”

            “If that gives you pleasure,” I said.

            “Where is it?”

            “She’s in the closet.”

            “She?!” she said, “Now it has a gender?!”

            “She’s a vagina.  Of course she has a gender.  She goes by the pronouns: She, Her, Hers.”

            “It is just a vagina.”

            “I don’t reduce women to only their genitalia,” I said, aware of the irony of my statement.

            “Well, grab your vagina and pull out your cock,” she said.

            I got my Stoya Fleshlight and unzipped my pants.  Lo applied the lube to my cock and then held Stoya in her hands as I penetrated her (that is, Stoya’s) vagina. 

Stoya & Stoya’s Fleshlight

            “That’s it, Daddio.  You fuck Stoya while Robert fucks my ass,” she said with clear delight.  She shut her eyes and enjoyed the ride.  In a remarkable chain reaction, Lo began to cum and then both Robert and I came, making for a splendid triple play. 

“This is for you, Daddy”

            These odd requests and variations were the exception, however, not the norm.  The norm was a five or ten minute shag, one orgasm achieved by each party, and then on went the clothes and out the door went Robert. 

            One night Lo had already said yes to Robert’s request to come over, but as he was on his way, she remembered that she was supposed to make a call overseas for work.  She was planning a major event and had invited some big name people to join.  She had to make the call and it wouldn’t be a short conversation. 

            Lo was already on the phone with her connection abroad when Robert arrived.  I explained to Robert the mix-up when he walked in and he asked, “Should I wait?” looking uncomfortable about the prospect, and also a bit disappointed and a tad upset.  Spoiled man. 

            “No,” I said in reply.  “Lola said you could quietly sneak in.” 

            Sneak into what?  The bedroom?  Her snatch?  Both apparently. 

            Lo was naked, standing up, bent over a desk, one hand holding the phone and the other a pen as she took notes.  She used the pen to point to her ass and indicated where she wanted Robert.  She then put the pen perpendicularly over her lips to indicate, “Shhhhhh.”  Robert didn’t even fully undress.  He just pulled out his rod and mounted her, slowly and easily.  She continued her conversation as if nothing was happening behind her.  He slid in and out, using her wet snatch for his pleasure until he finally came deep inside her.  He put his pud back in his pants, zipped up, washed off, and blew a kiss goodbye to Lo as she continued to take notes, cum dripping down her inner thigh.  After I saw Robert out, I got a warm washcloth to clean her off.  When she was finally done with her business call, she joined me in the bed. 

Thanks Robert

            “Did you enjoy that?” I asked.

            “Enjoy it?” she asked back, surprised.  “I didn’t even notice.  I was too focused on the phone call.”

Performance Art

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4


Lola at Eroticon

I get in bed.  I think Lo’s asleep, but she isn’t.  She unbuttons my pj bottoms and pulls out my cock and grips it tightly with one hand.  Her other hand is between her legs.  She begins stroking my rod up and down.  She spreads her legs and moans.  I begin to maneuver myself over her body in order to penetrate her, but she says, “No, Daddy.”

            “No?”

            “No.  Just lie on your back.”

            “But, don’t you want me?”

            “I want dick.  I want to hold it.  Just stay just like that,” she says.  I give in to her request to lie on my back as she grasps my member with her left hand while stroking herself with her right.  Her eyes remain closed.  Her breathing accelerates.  Her breasts heave.  After ten minutes or so, she begins convulsing.  She lets go of my phallus and grabs the sheets beneath her with her left hand as her right hand is plunging in-and-out of her gushing pussy.  She moans, screams, and cums in waves. 

            After she has a moment to catch her breath, I ask her, “What were you imagining?”

            “It’s bad, Daddy.”

            “I like bad.”

            “I was envisioning us,” she says enigmatically.

            “Us how?”

            “I imagined that we were going to the Erotica convention and that we were headlining for a reading of Match, Cinder & Spark.  It was at a dingy theater in a foreign town.  Up on the marquee it read, in big red letters, ‘LOLA DOWN READS XXX.’  We were backstage.  I had you peek out from the wings at the audience.  It was slowly growing in number – men and women.  Finally, about five minutes after the show was supposed to start, the host or MC for the evening took the stage and announced the rules, ‘No photography!  No recording!  Yes, masturbating, as long as you don’t make a mess of the seats.  Please turn off your cell phones and give a warm, wet welcome for Lola Down and H.H.!’  The place erupted with applause.  You and I walked out onto the stage.  There was only a rectangular table and two chairs.  On the rectangular table was a microphone and a tall glass of water and a pitcher of water.  We bowed and sat in the chairs.  I opened Match to one of my favorite passages and began reading.  I was wearing only a sexy red dress with strappy heels.  No panties.  No bra.  I began with my legs crossed.  I continued reading and I uncrossed my legs.  I gave the audience a quick flash of my puss.  I continued reading.  I spread my legs again.  I dropped one hand down to my crotch and began masturbating.  With the other hand, I held yours.  I paused for a moment.  I took a sip of water and looked out into the audience and said in a breathy voice, ‘It’s getting hot in here.’  You lovingly pulled the shoulder straps of my dress off of my shoulders and I pulled my arms through them.  I continued reading.  You slowly pulled down my red dress to reveal my breasts.  I continued touching my puss as I wiggled and wriggled out of the dress until it lay on the floor at my feet.  Finally I was naked and I continued reading the passage but, at a certain part I stopped.  I was beginning to climax.  You took over.  At the sound of your voice I came and I came hard – screaming and squirting.  You finally finished the passage.  You invited people up to the stage to have their copies of Match signed by the two of us.  As each person came up, they stopped before me with the book open to the page they wanted signed.  Usually it’s opened to a full color picture of me doing something naughty.  Some of the men asked if they can masturbate to me.  ‘Now?’ I asked.  ‘Yes,’ they said, politely.  I agreed.  They pulled out their cocks and they began jackin’ it over me as I sat naked in the chair.  You sat and watched.  They came.  They came on my body, on my face, in my mouth, in my hair, everywhere until I was cum-covered.  After everyone got what they wanted, you took me backstage.  There, some women who were part of the convention were waiting and they got clothes and a bucket of warm water and they cleaned me off.  ‘Was I good, Daddy?’ I asked you as they were tending to me.  ‘You were wonderful,’ you said.”

A Tall Drink of Water

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2


I see you’ve been with Robert again.

            “Can I come over?”

            “Yes, please do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

            I left the room.