The Newest Inductees to The Match Book Club – Two MILFS and a Daughter

We have a very special treat for all of you today. Not one, not two, but three inductees to The Match Book Club.

First, we have Lisa-Anne. A beautiful MILF, twice divorced with two kids. A son in his twenties and a daughter who is a preteen. Lisa-Anne just loves to be admired and complimented. She also loves a good, smutty read. You can find more of Lisa-Anne HERE.

Lisa-Anne gets her reading materials ready

The beautiful Lisa-Anne

Lisa-Anne getting off after reading Match, Cinder & Spark

Lisa-Anne loves Lo

Lisa-Anne quick selfie

Lovely Lisa-Anne and Match, Cinder & Spark

A double or triple feature: We have the lovely, 51 year old MILF, who goes by Tinkergirlmilf, and her 21 year old daughter, Bunny. The two of them play together. Bunny is in college and apparently loves to read mommy’s dirty books – together with mommy! Mommy is dedicated to her daughter, so much so that she made a loyalfans and onlyfans account in order to raise money to pay her daughter’s tuition. Bunny doesn’t think that mom should shoulder all that on her own and so, to help raise funds for her education, Bunny joins in on occasion. You can imagine how the tuition dollars go up when she does! Don’t you want to cumtribute to their joint account?

TinkergirlMILF and her daughter Bunny read Match, Cinder & Spark together

Mom & Daughter together reading Match, Cinder & Spark

Daughter Bunny stole Mom’s Match, Cinder & Spark

Hey Bunny, some help please!

Mom and Daughter show their love for each other after reading Match, Cinder & Spark

“Bunny, do you like my shaved pussy and thong?”

 

Mother’s Day gift from Bunny

“Daughter, will you tell me if my princess plug is all the way in?”

 

Masochistic Humiliation

[Continued from Summertime: Dogs, Wieners, and Buns]

 

Knotty

“You left her there, like that, on the couch, mounted by her pup?”

“Yes,” said Lo, followed by, “Now have me, Daddy.”

“But wait,” I replied.  She walked away down the hallway to the bedroom.  By the time I got there, she was naked on the bed, lying on her tum, her bare feet dangling in the air above her, her legs spread wide.

“Daddy, come, play with my pussy,” she said.

I pulled off my clothes hastily and got on top of her.  To my surprise, she was engrossed in some photos on her phone.

“What are you looking at?” I inquired as I slowly inserted my cock between her dripping wet pussy lips and slid it in right down to the shaft.

She moaned and said, “Is that your idea of foreplay?  I said play with my pussy, not impale it.”

I pulled out.

“I didn’t say stop,” she grunted.

I slid in again.

“I thought your idea of foreplay,” said I, “was mounting my hard cock as I slept.”

“That’s only one idea.  There are a lot of others.”

“What are you looking at?” I asked again, more demanding now since her hands were deliberately covering the screen of her phone.

“Nothing,” she said.

She was lying.  I knew that.  I thought, “OK, let her have her little secrets.  I’ll find out later.”

“Why did you leave Scarlett?” I asked, trying to pump her for information.

“No talk.  Fuck,” she instructed.

I gave up on my curiosity and simply explored her deepest recesses with my prick rather than with my pointed words.

“My ass!” she said, reaching both hands behind her and grabbing her ass cheeks to spread them and give me a clear target.  “I want you to fuck my ass and then my puss and then my ass again – like a dog whose heat-seeking sensor keeps getting confused.”

It was an odd juxtaposition of simile and metaphor, but I was not going to nitpick at that moment.  It was clear that her experience with Scarlett had left a lasting impression.

I gave her what she had requested, back-then-front and back again.  In-out-in-out.  Cunt-rump, cunt-rump, repeat.  She was gushing.

The entire time she was looking down at her screen.

“Now,” she commanded, “ram it home up my ass.  NOW!”

No time to think.  Deep spelunking down her dark cavern.

“FUUUUUUCK!” was the response.  This was the key to unlock the water works as her pussy gushed forth all at once in a deluge resembling the explosion of a water balloon.

Everything was drenched – me, the bed, her legs.

She finally rolled over on her back and, her breasts heaving with her deep breaths, she managed to smile a grin of relief and whisper between inhaling, “Thank you, Daddy.”

I crawled up next to her and, after she regained her equilibrium, she squirmed on the soaking wet bed and took my cock in her mouth.  I was still hard.  I had not cum.  The pressure of performing outweighed the pleasure of putting it in her ass.

She began to lick and to insert my cock deep to the back of her throat as the fingers of her right hand tickled and cupped my testicles.

I took advantage of her preoccupation with insuring that I gain as much pleasure as she to grab her phone and discover what had her so enchanted while I fucked her.

The photos surprised me.  She had found a cache of Irena Ionesco’s photographs of her daughter Eva.  Apparently, the mother-daughter dynamic had appealed to her prurient imagination.

Eva

Eva

Eva

Eva and friend

Eva

Eva

Lola imitating Eva Ionesco’s photo

I wasn’t ready for my exquisite torture to be over just yet.

Reaching down and grabbing Lo’s thick mane – a move she usually loves because I’m usually holding her on my cock in the position that affords the most pleasure to me – I gently pulled her off of the bone she was so eager to fondle with her face.

“Lo, come here,” I whispered.

She looked up at me, disappointed.  She is not satisfied until and unless her fornication friend is satisfied.

“Is everything ok?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.  “I just want to talk with you.  I want to hear your story.”

“I told you already.”

“No, I want to know more.”

She slid up from my crotch to lie on the pillow facing me as I was lying on my pillow.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Why did you leave Scarlett?”

“She was completely incapacitated.  Reilly had mounted her and was riding her good.  He had already cum – into the pillow – and he was going to take a while.”

“So?  She could have licked your pussy while the dog had his way with her from behind.  You could have been next in line, if Reilly was riled up enough.  You’ve been aching for that again.  Anything could have happened.”

“Is that what you want?  Did I let you down, Daddy?”

“It’s not about me,” I said, a bit sorry that she was taking my comments that way.  “I’m just surprised.  You clearly like this woman.  You’re attracted to her.  And – to have a four-legged friend trained in the art of pleasing its mistress. . .”

I didn’t have to continue because we both knew what sorts of erotic fantasies she dreams up while masturbating; dreams and fantasies of past experiences reconfigured into imaginings of future fun.

“You don’t understand, Daddy.  She looked so, well, the only word I can think of is incapacitated.  She was impaled on his prick and he was like the puppet master, pulling her strings with it.  She seemed so, so. . .” Lo struggled to find the right word, “pathetic.”

“Pathetic?”
“Yes.  I mean, there she was, Collin’s right-hand woman, as she called herself.  Older, sophisticated, sexy, all put-together, and that British accent!  You have no idea what that does to me!  She looks down at me with that haughty, superior look.”

“I’m sure that’s just in your mind,” I said, doubtful that Scarlett, whom I had yet to meet, was looking down at Lo.  Looking at her as a piece of meat to be devoured, maybe, but not looking down at her.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter,” said Lo, “that’s how I felt around her.  But when she was being fucked by her furry friend, when she was desperate to have me, when she was completely and utterly debased and degraded like that on the couch, her big breasts hanging down, rocking forward-and-back under the thin, transparent fabric of her blouse, and she was unable to do a thing about it – that’s when I knew I had to go.”

“But why?”

“Because it gave me the upper hand for once.  If I had stayed and let her lap up my labia, let Reilly ram his red rocket down my ravenous vagina like he was doing to her, and be made his bitch as completely and helplessly as she was, well then, I’d have even less self-respect next time I see her than I did the first time.”

“But you wanted her?”

“When she was washing my legs in the bathtub,” she said, her eyes glazed over as the scene played out before her mind’s eye, “and she hopped in, completely clothed, and got between my legs to wash my inner thighs, I was nearly certain she was going to ask me to piss all over her – her beautiful hair, her beautiful face, her red red lips, on her flimsy, sexy blouse and tits.”

“You really think she was going to ask that or. . .”
“Maybe I was hoping she’d ask for that.”

“Because, again, you’d have the upper hand.  You’d be demeaning her, humiliating her by pissing on her.”

“Yeah, probably.  What could be more humiliating?”

“You like it,” I reminded her, though she needed no reminding, I’m sure.

“Yeah, because I’m a masochist.”

“Well, maybe she is too.”

“No doubt,” she said, “but, if she goes about all haughty and holier than thou professionally – like she’s the sadist, at least towards me – then I’m not about to let her soon forget who is in charge in the bedroom.”

“A little sadistic streak in you too, then.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess you have met your match.”

“Daddy,” she said, “you’re my match.”

“You’re too young to remember, but a standard matchbox would come with twenty or fifty matches.”

“That’s a lot of fire.”

“Looks like she lit a flame between your legs.”

“Fuck me again, Daddy.  Like a doggy.  In my ass,” she said.  “And give me my phone back, you sneak!”

XXX-mas Party with an image of Lola and friend above the mantle.

 

Binders Full of Women

Mysterious Scarlett

“Yes, please show Ms. Down in,” Lola heard the voice say over the intercom to the secretary at the front desk.

Lo had her binders full of women resting in her lap atop her short black skirt.  She held the binders firmly, with both hands.  Her feet were bouncing rapidly and nervously in her cute, shiny, teal, round-tow, kitten-heel, pumps.  She looked up anxiously at the sound of Collin’s voice over the intercom.

“You may go in now,” said the receptionist to Lo, only glancing at her briefly.

Lo entered the room, but instead of seeing Collin behind the large, wooden desk, she saw a beautiful brunette woman with bold, red lipstick, brown eyes, and stylish glasses looking down at some papers on her desk.

“Where’s Collin?” asked Lo, taken aback and with impudence, as if she had a right to her expectations.

The woman didn’t even look up at Lo.  “Busy.”

“But I heard his voice.  He told the receptionist to. . .”

“He’s working remotely,” said the woman, again, without looking up from her work.

“But, he’s supposed to. . .”

“I’ll be reviewing the layouts.”

“Who are you?”

Now the woman looked up at Lola.  Despite the woman’s attractiveness and thick mane of hair that Lo wanted to grab and hold onto as she pushed the woman’s voluptuous lips – her most striking feature – down between her legs, the stranger’s tone was cold, monotone, almost robotic.

“I’m the project manager.  The editor.  Collin’s right-hand man.”  She spoke and looked like Elizabeth Hurley playing Vanessa Kensington from the Austin Powers movie, which was just fine by Lola, because Lo had a long-standing crush on Elizabeth Hurley and the British accent made her twitterpated.

“You don’t look like a man,” said Lo, trying to get on the woman’s good side – if she had one, that is.

“I could fuck you five ways to Sunday,” said the editor.  Then those luscious lips broke into a smile and Lo could see the woman’s beautiful, bright white teeth behind them.  “And I would enjoy it too, I bet.”

The woman stood up, walked around the large desk, and extended her hand.  “I’m Scarlet.”

Lo couldn’t help but think how perfectly her name matched her looks.

“And I’m blushing,” said Lo.

“You’re everything Collin said you’d be.”

“Oh yeah?  What did he say I’d be?”

“Irresistible.”

“Did he?  That naughty rogue.”

“So, what’s that you have there?” asked Scarlet.

“My binders full of women.”

“I’d like to have a binder full of Lola,” she replied.

“That can be arranged,” replied Lo, and adding after a pause, “but I’m sure he’s shown you all of my angles already.”

“No, actually,” said the woman, politely, but slowly fingering Lo’s blouse seductively.  “He wanted me to use my imagination.  But he did tell me all about you.”

“Such tales require little imagination.”

“Well, now that I see you, I can tell you that the imaginings will be more vivid and erotic.”

Lo blushed again.  She felt at a disadvantage since she knew nothing about this bombshell before her.  “Collin can be obsequious.”

“Obsequious?!  He didn’t do you justice.”
“No?”

“Well, to be fair, now that I have met you in person, it seems to me all words fall short of conveying your beauty.”

“You are kind.”

“No.  I am objectively correct.  I have multiple degrees in the subject.”

“They offer upper-level classes on Lola Down?”

“If only,” said Scarlet, “my degrees are in art, aesthetics, design, and marketing.”

“That’s a lot of degrees for so young a woman.”  Now Lola was being obsequious.  Scarlet was clearly in her thirties, if not early forties.

“Keep up the flattery like that and I will have to put you over my knee to teach you not to fib.”

“You could put me over your knee anytime for any reason.”

“I may take you up on that, but only if you displease me.”

“I don’t have a degree in it, but the giving and receiving pleasure was my field of study in college.”

“I could be your master’s thesis advisor then.”

“I’m willing to learn from anyone who can teach me a new trick.”

“Let’s see your homework and then we’ll get to the extracurriculars.”

Lo placed the multiple thick binders on the desk before the brunette.

“They are divided into sections, as I imagine the masturbatorium museum will be.”

Scarlet looked at the index:

 

Porn Stars

MILFs

Preggo

Lactating

Breastfeeding

BBW

SSBBW

Golden Girls

Girls Next Door

Moms and Daughters

Nudists

BDSM

Boy-toys

Trans

Tiny Tits

Tiny Cocks

Creatures of Enormous Size

Bestiality

Misc.

 

 

“I see you’ve been photo farming.”

“What?”

“You know, photo farming – collecting photos of women and men you find alluring.”

“Oh, I just call it ‘putting it in the fap hat.’  You know, like the ‘spank bank’ ‘snack pack,’ or ‘bean machine,’ ‘perv reserve,’ and ‘jill thrills’ if you wish to be particular about it.”

“It’s a photo farm,” said Scarlet definitively.  “And that’s ok.  We all have them.”

Scarlet turned the pages slowly, viewing each page with an expert eye.

She then flipped through the hundreds of other pages.

“There’s a lot here,” he said, pensively, as she was cursorily reviewing Lo’s work.  “I think I’ll need to bring this work home with me.  In the meantime, why don’t you utilize your platform to see what your readers would like?”

“Like, post all of these photos?”

Scarlet managed to tear her attention away from the binders in order to look up at Lo.

“Not all,” she said, “That would be ridiculous!  We’re trying to whittle this enormous collection down to a manageable size.  Post a sample of each category and see what people say they’d like to see more of.  After I’ve had a chance to look through this myself, I’ll call you.”

Lo reluctantly left her binders full of women on Scarlett’s desk and stood up, a bit perplexed.

“Will that be all?” she asked as if she were some sort of subordinate to this superior.

“One more thing,” said Scarlett.

“Yes?”

“What’s your favorite?”

Lola didn’t need to give the question any thought.  She simply said, “That would be cheating.  But maybe, if you ever do fuck me five ways to Sunday, you just might find out.”

Scarlett smiled mischievously and then pressed on her intercom button.  “I’ll need a few minutes before my next appointment,” she said as she opened her desk drawer and pulled out a huge dildo and placed it on the desk for Lo to see.  “That will be all, Ms. Down,” she pronounced clearly and coldly.

Lo’s heart had skipped a beat because, for a moment, she thought Scarlett would be using the foreboding phallus on her, but then she realized what was happening and turned to exit.  She did an about-face so fast on her feet that her short little skirt flew up for just a second, revealing her ass to Scarlett’s probing eyes.  Then she was gone.

[Dear Reader, please use the comments to vote for your favorites or to suggest others.]

Stoya

Stoya

Pornstar Sasha Grey

Sasha and Stoya

Sasha

Sasha

Pornstar Daizha Morgann

 

Daizha Morgann

Pornstar Lola Vargas Martin

Porn Star Gili Sky

MILF Samantha Massie

MILF Samantha Massie

MILF Samantha Massie enjoying Match, Cinder & Spark

Sam and Son

Sam and Daughter

Quintessential MILF Sam

 

Preggo

Three Pregnant Muses

Crossover – Preggo Porn Star Grey Desire

Lactating

Breastfeeding

Breastfeeding

Breastfeeding Lisa Shapira

Breastfeeding

BBW – Chunky Vixen

Chunky Vixen

BBW – Lisalou and Aurora Fits

Lisalou and Aurora

SSBBW Rosiee

SSBBW – Lady Brads

SSBBW – Lady Brads

BBW Party

Golden Girl – Beautifully Broken

Beautifully Broken

Beautifully Broken selling her panties. Send her an email and tell her Lola sent you.

Golden Girl – Queen Bev getting off to Lola

Golden Girl – Queen Bev from behind

Golden Girl – Queen Bev showing off the large pussy

Golden Girl – Queen Bev gets off on her FUPA

Golden Girl – Queen Bev loves to read naked

Golden Girl – Queen Bev an boyfriend

Vote for your favorite category/slut in the comments. Feel free to suggest a category or slut we missed. Also, don’t forget Lola Down:

Lola in the tub

More to (make you) cum.

 

Interview with Safe Word author: Molly Weatherfield, a.k.a. Pam Rosenthal

If you missed Part I of our two-part interview with Pam Rosenthal, whose erotica pen name is Molly Weatherfield, then you will want to check out THIS POST.

Her award-winning first book, Carrie’s Story, was followed by an even more wild adventure – both in terms of plot, sex, and narrative style – Safe Word.

Here is Lola’s interview with Molly and also an amazing illustration done by our dear friend in Ukraine, Sergii.  The illustration shows Lola, lying down on the floor, reading Carrie’s Story, as Pam Rosenthal (top left) looks on at her fictional author, Molly Weatherfield (top right) and Molly’s fictional character, Carrie looks to her creator with admiration.

Pam, Molly, Carrie, Lola

Questions for Pam Rosenthal, a.k.a. Molly Weatherfield – PART TWO – Safe Word

Lola – I’m so glad you enjoyed the first interview and have agreed to a second for the sequel book, Safe Word! As I said at the end of our last interview, I totally needed a sequel because I didn’t want Carrie’s Story to end – especially not where it did end. But, I have to say, Safe Word did not follow any of the possible narrative sexcapades that I had imagined at the end of Carrie’s Story – and I imagined a lot!

This will be a tricky interview because I don’t want to give away too much of the book for anyone who hasn’t read it yet, but – OMG! – you really took off for the sequel! As in, Safe Word was off to the races!

Compared to Carrie’s Story, this book has a lot of steamy man-on-man sex and BDSM. Where did that come from and, again, were you worried about pushing boundaries or even warping genres?

Safe Word by Molly Weatherfield

Molly – Actually, I was so surprised to be writing it at all, that I never thought about whether I was taking things too far. I mean, I had told everybody that Carrie’s Story was a one-off, and that I was done. And then I found out that I wasn’t, which was such a gift, and so unexpected, that I just ran with it.

As for the man-on-man sex, I don’t remember it as being a conceptual departure from the first book. It’s just that in Safe Word there are more opportunities for variation. Carrie has moved on to a bigger world, with more possibilities, while Jonathan is kind of rediscovering that world. What wasn’t entirely explicit in Carrie’s Story (though Kate is kind of grumpy about it) is that for the year or two when he’s most involved with Carrie, Jonathan has stopped being active in the association and its doings. But with Carrie gone, his old life comes rushing in on him again. What I was going for was a sense that the magnitude and the variety of this hidden world of sexual exchange and domination should be always revealing more of itself to the reader, through Carrie’s and Jonathan’s narratives of the year they’ve spent apart. I used to call this the “Snoopy’s doghouse” approach, but clearly, it was a way to conceptualize my own fantasy life as I explored it. 

Lola – There were a couple of points in the novel where I laughed out loud because the plot went in such an unexpected direction. For instance, the rivalry between Carrie and Stephanie really reminded me of some of the YA books I had read. And then, while in the stable, Carrie befriends her neighbor by clandestinely using a piece of rubber tube to communicate between stalls. That reminded me of a scene from V for Vendetta, which came out much later than your book. And you mentioned to me before the interview that the first scene of the book is right from Little Women. Two more disparate books, I think, could not be found. Was this sort of juxtaposition of texts part of your plan or did it just come out that way and you realized it after?

Molly – I don’t know anything about V for Vendetta. But the Carrie and Stephanie rivalry is very YA, you’re right. And it was inspired by something that happened years ago among a bunch of adults, including me, who were traveling and working together. And because of the pressures of the situation, we found ourselves sometimes acting like bratty teenagers, even to the midnight giggling and whispering. Not proud of it, but there you are.

As for Little Women, thankfully it was only after I’d finished writing the first scene of Safe Word that I realized that I’d copped it from the scene in Little Women when Laurie first catches up with Amy in Europe. In the Greta Gerwig movie the scene is shown from the p.o.v. of Amy in the carriage with Aunt March. But in the novel, it’s very similar to the scene in Safe Word: first a kind of birds-eye view of the setting in the south of France, then focusing in on a very handsome American man who’s being rather ogled by passers-by while he waits for a particular young woman.

Here are some snippets of the passage from Little Women:

At three o’clock in the afternoon, all the fashionable world at Nice may be seen on the Promenade des Anglais, a charming place… Along this walk, on Christmas Day, a tall young man walked slowly, with his hands behind him, and a somewhat absent expression of countenance… which caused sundry pairs of feminine eyes to look approvingly after him… There were plenty of pretty faces to admire, but the young man took little notice of them, except to glance, now and then, at some blonde girl, or lady in blue.

And here are some parallel bits from Safe Word:

The city itself [Avignon] is heavily touristed… On this particular day… however, it was sunny and lively… An American man was sitting at one of the cafes… and he’d been glancing up eagerly whenever a slender young woman, especially one with close-cropped hair, came from that direction… Lots of attractive people were strolling… lots of women he liked looking at… and since he was extraordinarily good-looking… none of this was going unnoticed.

What was so remarkable to me when I finally realized what I’d done, was remembering how much I’d loved the scene in Little Women when I read it as a breathless 9-year-old, just knocked out by what I took to be its elegance and sophistication. The point of view and the rhythm of the phrasing had clearly imprinted itself onto me and yet my conscious mind didn’t remember it at all; when I was writing that part of Safe Word I was focused on the Avignon history (which are themselves copped from Francine du Plessis Gray’s At Home with the Marquis de Sade, the book I’d reviewed for Salon.com). 

But then, in both Carrie books — and really in everything I’ve ever written — I used so much of what I’d read and experienced, even when it might not appear directly apposite to the subject at hand, which I think is awesome evidence of the heavy lifting the mind and memory are capable of during the creative process. Once, at a reading, I was introduced by the author and anthologist Violet Blue, who said to me, jokingly, “I feel that I know you.” To which I replied, about 90% seriously, “You do.”

Lola – Whereas Carrie’s Story was, like many erotica books, a romance novel with kinks and explicit scenes, Safe Word is a much more complex work. I really appreciated the multilayer narrative. On one level you have Carrie, who is in love with life in general and is open-minded and willing to experience all of it. (I love that about her!) But there is always the lingering question in the background of the book (carried over from the first novel) of whether she will get together with her most obvious love interest, Jonathan. But Jonathan is engaged in his own love affair with Kate. And then, because none of these characters are simple, one dimensional, or merely functional for the plot, there is always the possibility that Kate and Carrie will fall in love. I had no idea how it would end, even right up to the last pages! How did this complex plot develop?

Molly – For maybe three quarters of the process, I didn’t know how it would end either. And I guess that I only found my ending when I’d realized that I’d come to the outer limit of my erotic imagination; the feeling that I couldn’t make things any heavier, deeper, or more hardcore and still continue having fun in fantasyland.

Kate’s my favorite character in some ways. I have no idea where I got the idea for her, but I’m always wanting to know (i.e. imagine, i.e. write) more parts of her backstory, to account for her toughness and honesty. I was also kind of obsessed with how Jonathan’s such a pampered little prince: I enjoyed imagining him, but I found myself resenting how much he gets away with; I remember explaining to author and sexual activist Carol Queen that I thought of him like my cat — so beautiful that somehow he existed to be spoiled and indulged. I found their story provocative, sexy, and a bit troubling — as Carrie does, even if she begins to wonder whether it’s her story any longer. 

Lola – And, while we’re on the topic of narrative complexity, the trading of stories between Carrie and Jonathan as they seduce each other and then seduce each other again was brilliant! Of course they would seduce each other with words. I can appreciate breaking with conventional narrative form. This book is so inventive, not just for erotica, but as a novel. Did you feel as if you were breaking new ground that way?

Molly – I’m not really satisfied with how it flows between Carrie’s narrative, Jonathan’s narrative, and the overriding omniscient storytelling, but it was the best I could do with what technical chops I had. So I guess the best answer is that I was breaking new ground for me, and maybe for a certain kind of erotica, but that I was and am haunted by knowing that there are narrative techniques that I didn’t (and don’t) know how to employ. Yhat isn’t at all to say that I’m sorry I wrote it. I did the best I could with what I wanted to say, and in many ways it’s my favorite of my books.

Lola – One aspect of the book I really enjoyed was that the “masters” or “owners” were not only rich men. And the “slaves” or “subs” weren’t just women. (Other than Carrie, we don’t really know their socio-economic status in the civilian world.) There is a certain sexual equality in the book, if not economic equality. I also took particular delight in Jonathan’s punishment for breaking the rules. That really put a dent in the sense that these rich folk were beyond being flogged themselves. And, it’s clear throughout that Kate is the dom to just about all the other characters. Did it just flow that way as you were writing it, or did you have a political statement in mind?

Molly – Again, the sexual equality was what I’d learned from Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty books. I didn’t have a political statement in mind, although I suppose these days you could look at it that way. At the time, though, I was just glad to be exploring the world I was imagining, and grateful to those who’d given me a world of increased possibility. 

Lola – “Feminism” means something different to just about each person who uses the word. I could picture some self-proclaimed feminists (especially Second Wave Feminists) getting their panties in a bunch about your erotica. But one aspect of Third Wave Feminism that I really embrace is the sex positivity – the notion that we all have our little kinks and there’s nothing wrong with living them out loud. So much sexual repression is a function of patriarchy and a healthy sexuality can look and feel all different ways for different people, including Male Dom/Female Sub relationships. Such relationships are not necessarily symptoms or results of patriarchy, or not simply so, at least. Did you receive a lot of criticism from other women/feminists for your writing?

Molly – No criticism at all from women or feminists. I know, it’s weird, right? But true nonetheless.

Lola – I’m sorry for my ignorance, but I wasn’t even born when this book was published. So, can you indulge me a little? The pony play. Where did that come from? If I do a Google search now for “bdsm pony girl race” I will get hundreds of images of women in various states of dress (leather, buckles, naked but for the harness, etc.) with bits in their mouths pulling little rickshaws with doms ready to whip them. I lack the historical knowledge to know if all this porn was inspired by your book (was it the first of this sort?), or if there was already a sub-culture of cosplay or other BDSM play that inspired you.

Molly – Pony play was around before I wrote Carrie’s Story, but I didn’t know about it. I only found out about it after I’d finished a short first draft and was looking for ways to extend it to novel length. Visiting a San Francisco leather/fetish store for inspiration, I found a glossy magazine containing an extensive photo shoot of some real-girls’ pony farm somewhere — or maybe it was all staged, I don’t know. Anyway, I leafed through it in kind of a fearful fever dream, jammed the magazine back onto the rack, stumbled out of the store, and drove home. Only to turn around, get back in the car, drive back, buy the magazine, read it over a few times, and write the Sir Harold chapter in a crazy burst of words that I’ve never been able to equal. It wasn’t writing, exactly: it was copying, as fast as my fingers would go, what my frenzied imagination was dreaming up as fast as it could. And then I retrofitted the earlier chapters around it.

Lola – Since our last interview, you mentioned that you wanted to post a link to the interview on your Facebook page, but were concerned that the censors might punish you for it. Along the lines of historical reference, can you talk about what sorts of shifts you’ve seen politically and artistically in tolerance and censorship with regard to erotica? There seems to be a growing movement in England and America to reduce access to certain material. I know we, with our blog, have been constantly challenged by censorship. I get my social media zapped on the regular and certain companies that transfer money refuse to send us funds because the money is made through sexually explicit material. What have you seen over the years?

Stroll?

Molly – First about censorship: Honestly, it’s been such a long time since I’ve written or actively promoted myself that I don’t have any specifics, but friends who are still writing are always dealing with it, and though I know stuff is always being challenged on Amazon, I’m sorry that I really don’t have any insights to share. I posted the link on my Molly Weatherfield page, which Facebook said it was going to take down. But they haven’t yet, so I’m totally confused. But I didn’t paste a link from my Pam Rosenthal page because I use it to connect to old friends and extended family, and I don’t want them to shut that down, so I’m more circumspect about erotic posts there.

As for shifts in standards, a few wildly unrelated points: 

  • I’m guessing that these days there’s a lot of really intense stuff out there, of a sensibility to appeal to readers of a different generation than mine. I’m told that my teenage granddaughters read stuff that’s crazy explicit (not my stuff, but who could blame them?). But I’m shy to pry too deeply, so I don’t know much. 
  • I’ve always objected to any pornography that tries to locate kinky sensibility in childhood trauma; it seems to me that when you do that you delegitimize freedom of choice and imagination by pretending to be on the side of the “victims” while at the same time scapegoating some nasty “victimizers” by blaming them for your own fantasy life. To the extent that Fifty Shades was coherent, it seems to me that it played that nasty trauma card while going all swoony over private jets and diamond bracelets — but since I found the book a dreary, disorganized read and wound up skipping long passages, who knows what she was getting at? 
  • What most troubles me right now is a kind of eroticizing of totally illegitimate power, as described in this powerful, smart, and scary essay: https://slowcivilwar.substack.com/p/thats-bait. If there’s anything I’ve tried to be clear and consistent about in these interviews it’s that I always situate my fantasies within a framework of total consensuality and freedom to say no. I really hate erotic fantasy that’s in any way based on coercion, and my imagination tends to shrivel up in horror when I don’t feel safe; which I don’t, these days — less as an erotic writer than as an ordinary American who cherishes democracy and the rule of law.

Lola – Lightning round of questions: Favorite erotica author? Favorite book (of any genre)? Favorite poet? Favorite movie? Favorite porn star? Favorite play of Shakespeare’s? Favorite sex toy? Favorite age (meaning, did you love your 20’s, 30’s, 80’s the most) and why?

Molly – Pauline Réage, who wrote Story of O, has got to be at the top of the list. Erotic authors I’ve admired over the years are Michelle Tea, Aaron Travis, Thomas Roche. I’ve mentioned Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty books, but I need to add that the direct inspiration for the association comes from the opening chapter of Rice’s book Exit to Eden. Actually, I’ve been reading more erotic poetry than fiction lately. Natalie Diaz’s book, Postcolonial Love Poem, has some really hot writing in it and won the 2021 Pulitzer Prize for Poetry; and you should run-not-walk to buy The Poetry of Sex, edited by Sophie Hannah.

I don’t have a favorite porn film, but the most smoking hot movie I’ve ever seen is Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution, starring the sexiest film actor I’ve ever seen, Tony Leung. 

All-time favorite pieces of writing: Grace Paley’s short story, “Friends”; The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (imo the great American novel); and Proust’s epic In Search of Lost Time, which is kind of my basic spiritual discipline.

Favorite play of Shakespeare? When I was young it was Much Ado About Nothing, clearly the first romcom. Now it’s absolutely King Lear, particularly in this version: https://www.ntathome.com/king-lear/videos/king-lear-trailer

No favorite sex toy, just some simple basics.  

As for sexual decades: it was pretty great when I was writing Carrie in my 40s, but as we approach 80, there’s a new kind of beauty to it, for which we are profoundly grateful.         

Lola – I don’t know if you have kids or grandkids, but, if you do, do you have any regrets about writing erotica since they will probably eventually be reading your work? Do you ever look back and think, “That was fun to write, but, OMG! I should have never published that!”?

Molly – Our very smart son, a literature professor, has managed to be entirely circumspect about my erotica for the last 30 or so years. I have no idea whether he’s read them or not, which is just fine by me. And I’m guessing that his two astonishingly literate daughters will be pretty much the same.

Still, I do sometimes have second thoughts about my books — again, because they’re still out there, in a world where cruelty has been instrumentalized and eroticized. So sometimes I have to pick up one or the other of them and reassure myself that that’s not what I was doing — far from.

Lola – Last question. Not sure if you have had a chance to read or listen to any of HH’s writings about me/us, but if you have, any thoughts?

Molly – Only a few sentences, so I can’t comment. But I love the idea of you guys sharing an erotic and a creative life as a single enterprise. Way to go and wishing you all the best.

Lola – Thank you so much! This has been a rare treat!!!

Molly – Thanks to you as well. I’ve been kind of grieving the fact that I’m not writing any more. But your smart, engaging questions have helped me sum things up and to own the astonishing experience of writing these books.

To All the MILFs, Moms, and Masturbators

Happy Mother’s Day and Masturbation Month!!!

Masturbation Month

“I can resist anything, except temptation.”

The Match Book Club Masturbators

Alia wasn’t a mom then, but she is now.

Alia and woman’s best friend.

Alia

Caylee single

Caylee single and slutty on Halloween

Caylee getting married

Caylee Wedding Night

Caylee baby bump

Caylee keeping it smooth

Not every woman would go to the nude beach at 8 months pregnant, but Caylee would.

Gabbie Gabriella

Gabbie Gabriella

Preggo Gabbie Gabriella

Preggo Gabbi Gabriella

Jessica Poirier

Jessica Poirier with daughter Gabrielle Poirier

Preggo Addy Sins

Preggo Addy Sins

Mr. and Mrs. Sins with baby Sins

Addy Sins reads Match, Cinder & Spark

The very sexy Samantha Massie

Bootiful Samantha Massie

Samantha Massie is a member

Samantha Massie and Lo

Preggo Sam

The Adorable Sara Anne

Sara Anne is a member.

Sara Anne 100% Hotwife MILF

Happy Mother’s Day to these MILFs and all our Match Book Club members! And a BIG Shout Out to Grey Desire who just had her second baby and is now a self-proclaimed “HuCow”!

Grey Desire very pregnant

Grey Desire fisting

Grey Desire Preggo Peeing

Grey Desire lactating

Molly Weatherfield, author of Carrie’s Story and Safe Word, a.k.a. Pam Rosenthal Interview

Dear fans of erotica and romance, today we have a very special interview for you:

Pam Rosenthal, a.k.a. Molly Weatherfield – PART ONE – Carrie’s Story

 Pam/Molly is an award winning author in both the genres of romance and erotica! That  doesn’t happen to just anybody! I had just finished reading her first published erotica novel, Carrie’s Story, and I felt such a kinship with both the titular character and the author. I looked her up, reached out, and – to my great luck – she was willing to chat! Then she was willing to do an interview. Now, if you haven’t heard of her (and, I admit, I had only heard of her in passing about a year ago), you totally should have! Why? Because her writing – style, plot, characters, and basic command of the English language – put that other ho-hum popularizer of erotica/BDSM fiction to shame! That’s right, 50 Shades should have been called “50 Degrees Not-As-Good-As Molly Weatherfield!” Or maybe, “16 Years Late!” No, really! Anything that pale best seller had to offer was there in Carrie’s Story, and more – whoa so much more! Don’t take my word for it. Read both for yourselves and get back to me.

Luckily, some have seen the quality in Molly/Pam. In October of 2006, Playboy called Carrie’s Story one of the top 25 sexiest novels ever written! Number 12, in fact – just after Lolita (which, in HH’s humble opinion is the best erotica ever written) and just before Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying. Not too shabby!

Playboy’s 25 Sexiest Novels Ever Written

Number 12 – Top 50 Percentile

That’s not the only list she’s made. There’s also “33 of the Best Erotic Novels of All Time.” Now, if you read that list, you’ll see that it is hardly “of all time.” I mean, there’s nothing prior to Lady Chatterley’s Lover from 1929 on the list. But hey, “33 of the Best Relatively Recent Erotic Novels” just doesn’t have the same pizazz.

Speaking of lists, one particular author I know (in a Biblical way) made the list of ranker.com‘s “Best Sensual Fiction Writers” (even though HH isn’t writing “fiction”). We’d both appreciate it if you’d take a moment to vote us up on the list. Thanks!

Classic and Updated

Now, let’s get to the interview!

Carrie’s Story (updated cover)

Lola – OMG! It is such an honor to interview you! However, I have to be honest, so far I have only read your BDSM erotic novel, Carrie’s Story.  That’s why this interview is PART ONE.  I look forward to reading Safe Word and then having a second interview. And, maybe, when I can, reading some of your Romance work, like A House East of Regent Street, which you published under your own name, Pam Rosenthal. But tell me, what’s your background?  How did you get into writing?

Molly – I’ve always thought of myself as a lifelong English major, in love with reading and writing, and a little shaky in terms of earnings potential. For most of my life I managed to pay the bills as a computer programmer, which was hard, though also stimulating, pretending to have technical chops. Before Carrie, I never considered writing fiction; what writing I did was lit-crit or wonky nonfiction stuff, often about computers and science fiction, published in obscure leftwing venues, but pretty exciting to me intellectually and even artistically (I got the name Molly, for example, from the mirror-shades girl in the classic cyberpunk novel Neuromancer).

I’ve also been a feminist since I came to adulthood in the late 60s (I’m pretty old, as anybody who did the math can figure out). And I also had a secret passion for SM erotica, at least since high school when I somehow glommed onto the Marquis de Sade. Which two parts of my belief system weren’t easy to reconcile, especially since 60s-70s second-wave feminism was particularly disapproving of anything smacking of sexual “objectification.” 

But it was my great good fortune to be in the right place at the right time to begin to resolve my dilemmas. I don’t know if your readers will know this history, but in the early 1980s there was a big split among feminists called “the sex wars,” where some devastatingly brilliant women began to challenge feminist orthodoxy, and to insist that their erotic and affective lives, their role-playing, style of dress, (even their lipstick) didn’t invalidate their personal power. This might sound quaint to you, but for me it was huge when feminists started theorizing about sexuality, writing erotica, plumbing the boundaries of autonomy and desire. There was a lot of backlash; a friend, the late Amber Hollibaugh, was thrown off a panel at Barnard College for talking about butch/femme lesbian roles. But I was inspired, and had the good luck to meet legends like Susie Bright and many others, and to read great, smart erotic stuff — fiction and non-fiction both, which probably got my writing instincts going, though I didn’t know it yet.  

Lola – Carrie’s Story is. . . how should I say?  It pushes so many limits.  How did you hit on this story?  Did the character of Carrie come to you first or did the deep, dark adventures just unfold as you went along?  What was the creative process?

Molly – I remember the first time I tried to write an SM story. It was a lazy, sunny Sunday after sex, and I was feeling really good and loosey-goosey, which I guess freed up my thoughts in some way. So, when my mind drifted to SM fantasies — and then to the fears of fascism that sometimes also flowed in along with the sexual stuff — I felt a little braver than usual, a little less guilty and a little more adventurous. Maybe sex-positive feminist thinking had actually started to penetrate; in any case, I began to wonder whether I was really the sicko I feared I was. What would happen, I wondered, if I actually let the fantasies rip? What would they look like if I wrote them down (what a concept)? So I sat down to find out.

For hours. There I sat in my ratty pink terrycloth bathrobe, scribbling and smiling and just… happy. I totally didn’t know what I was doing — I even had to run to the bookshelf to see how to punctuate dialogue. And when I wrote COMMA CLOSE QUOTE HE SAID PERIOD, I felt like God.

The story stank, though it did have a character sort of like Jonathan and a few characters who found their way into Safe Word. But it was such fun, and I felt so much myself, that I was determined to keep writing, and maybe even trust my own moral sense. Because I found that in my fantasies, I was totally turned on — obsessed really — by the idea of mutual consent, and the subtle, interesting places that can take the imagination and the relationship. I’m interested in people playing power games, exploring strange places, but from a position of mutual agreement as to the boundaries of the fantasy space. I am absolutely not interested in sex where deep down (in like reality, like in government or the economy, or like on Jeffrey Epstein’s private island) the power is unequal. 

What was missing, of course, was Carrie. The smart-girl voice who’d been in my head since Jo March, and in western fiction since Elizabeth Bennet and Jane Eyre. The brave girl who fights the power with words and wit, and who can own the experience through her smarts. I realized I needed her to tell the story I was evidently dreaming up when I “heard” that voice in a fantasy novel called Beauty, by Sheri S. Tepper.

Anyhow, once I realized that Carrie would be telling the story, and that it was a story — that is, that she feels a need to tell us how she got to where she is when she’s telling it (which we don’t know yet, except for the auction, but which suggests a lot of SM tropes), I felt like I was cleared to go. That compulsion to tell how you got where you are is a powerful narrative engine, and I began to see how you could apply this to BDSM, with its tropes of training and discipline. Even if I didn’t know the ending, I felt that it would emerge in the telling. And oddly, the first publisher, Masquerade Books, caught the mood perfectly with the cover of the first edition: something about those wide light eyes, those parted lips (other Masquerade editions went way downhill from there).

Carrie’s Story – Original Masquerade Publishing Cover

Carrie’s Story, Most Recent (and Tame) Cover

Lola – You published this in ʼ94, so you must have been writing it earlier than that. Just to be clear – that was well before 50 Shades of Grey and its imitators took BDSM into the mainstream. Were you scared by what you had written? Did you think you’d ever find a publisher for it, or an audience? What was it like to be writing this stuff at that time?

Molly – I probably started writing it in ʼ91 or so. I was in no hurry, because it felt like its own reward to be exploring my fantasy life, opening up my imagination and sharing it with my husband, who began to share his as well. I don’t usually think of myself as brave, but I did while I was writing, and that felt amazing. And yeah, sure I was scared. “Always scared,” as Carrie says at some point. Because isn’t that what bravery is, to be willing to go where it’s scary? Isn’t that how we always get where we’re going, to find our limits as we go?

Still, I wasn’t writing in a vacuum. I was breathing the air of the San Francisco sex-positive feminist community, standing on the shoulders of giants, if you will. I was playing catch-up, reading lots of erotic fiction and theory, and adding a lot of stuff from my own reading over the years. And of course, since Carrie’s a brilliant, prodigy student intellectual, it all kind of fit together for me. 

As to whether I’d find a publisher: at first I really had no idea whether the thing was publishable. I thought the writing was good; I have a fair amount of confidence in my voice. But I didn’t know if my particular take on how body and mind work together would resonate with anybody else — and of course there’s always the fear of revealing oneself and grossing people out. “It’s a pure act,” I kept telling myself. “It’s its own reward.” And — certainly compared to Fifty Shades of Grey — the Carrie books are clearly a niche taste. But as the years go by, and as still, after 30 years, every so often I open my email to read some absolutely amazing, deeply thought communication from one or another reader, the thrill of making connection never gets old.

Carrie’s Story as I imagine it

Lola – The book, and its smart, sensual, and masochistic titular main character make frequent reference to erotica classics, most notably, Story of O by Pauline Réage.  What were the books that influenced you the most in writing this one and why?

Adaptation of Story of O

Molly – I’ve already mentioned the Marquis de Sade, who was in many ways a dreadful person, but I read bits and pieces when I was a teenager, and it stayed with me. A couple of years after that I read Susan Sontag’s essay, “The Pornographic Imagination,” and she talked about how porn is often funny, which gave me permission, years later, to make Carrie funny. Anyway, Sade is funny, in a weird, cold, whacked-out way (for more on this, for anybody who’s curious, you can read the piece I wrote for Salon.com, which is still kicking around the internet at https://www.salon.com/1998/11/19/feature_459/).

Histoire d Lo

Then, of course, Story of O, which came out in English in 1966, the same summer as Bob Dylan’s record Blonde on Blonde, which was the summer I connected with the guy I’ve been married to for more than 50 years now. We passed his copy of Story of O back and forth in bed. (And many years later I wrote about it, also for Salon, https://www.salon.com/1998/08/06/feature_12/)

Blonde on Blonde?

The next, important books came years later: Gayle Rubin, the brilliant queer theorist and cultural anthropologist, recommended Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty books, and I ran-not-walked to get hold of them. I think I’d find them unreadable now (all that spanking!), but at the time, I just gobbled them up, because I loved the equal-opportunity sexuality (women as tops and bottoms; gay and straight combinations cheerfully intermingling). And I loved the Disneyland fairy-tale setting. It was so light-hearted, so technicolor: I was totally energized by the idea of this sexual magic kingdom. 

Sleeping Beauty

There were also small-press books written by local (often queer) authors, that were super hot. Pat (now Patrick) Califia, Aaron Travis, Carol Queen, Thomas Roche, and Simon Sheppard are names that spring to mind, but there were lots more: San Francisco in the 80s and 90s was bursting with creative erotic imagination; I met Tristan Taormino at an open mic, for example. And this week I went to a Zoom memorial for the recently-deceased Dorothy Freed, a stalwart at erotic writers groups, whose memoir of her longtime, loving marriage to her BDSM partner, Life After Promiscuity, I totally recommend (I copy-edited it).

Perfect Strangers by Dorothy Freed

Lola – Though the story-line is fanciful, many of the scenes are ones that could have a basis in reality.  Were any of the sexy scenarios drawn from your real-life experience?

Molly – No. Sorry. My real-life experience is much more about subtle signals and shared imaginings. A funny thing, though, is that some people I used to work with as a programmer are sure they know who I took as my model for Carrie — and they won’t tell me who!

Porn inspired by Carrie’s Story

Lola – Did you dare show the novel to any of your friends, lovers, or family when it was still in manuscript form?  If so, how did they react?  And how did they react when it got published?

Molly – I’ve always been ridiculously, naively open about this stuff. There were some people who totally didn’t get it, but in general I received remarkably little pushback, and incredible help from friends who agreed to be beta readers, including the guy who corrected a quote from the Latin somewhere. My husband, in particular, is a tough, brilliant editor who pulls no punches and always helps me improve whatever I write. I even came out to my mother about it (a long story how that happened), though I strenuously warned her not to read the stuff. But when a piece of Safe Word got into some iteration of Best American Erotica, of course she read it anyway – the word “best” just being too much for her. “What did you think?” I asked her somewhat grimly. “It was Very. Well. Written,” she replied, through a jaw that might have been wired shut. And that was that.

Lola in her collar

Lola – Before this interview, you told me that the story never got optioned by any film companies.  It’s so cinematographic.  I could totally picture everything in my mind.  I am surprised no one offered that to you, especially after the box-office killing that the ho-hum 50 Shades pulled in. Any ideas why not?

Carrie’s Story definitely inspired many movies

Molly – I’m so flattered you think that, and I do think that one of the things I do well is move characters through imagined space. But as for actually making a movie out of it… maybe it’s better that nobody has. Carrie goes through a lot of stuff that would be far less engaging if you had to look at it rather than imagine it as told through her smart-ass commentary. Or as a leatherman friend once said to me, “Pam, pain hurts!”

Pain Hurts, but degradation?

Lola –  I’m sorry for the comparison and any spoilers, but, it seems to me the whole boring premise of 50 Shades is “Will she or won’t she?” sign the contract, that is. In Carrie’s Story, there is a contract, but the joke is that it’s all just cosplay, though the pain, degradation, abasement, and humiliation are real. However, Carrie can say no at any time. As I read it, I found it interesting to wonder, “How far will she go?” And it seemed to me like this was Carrie’s question too: “How far will I go?” And she goes pretty damn far! How did the plot drive the novel for you?

Molly – I think you’ve intuited what I’m going to answer. That the energy that makes the plot go was my energy, my curiosity about how far my fantasy life would go. You can’t fake that energy — or at least can’t.

Lola – I was so glad to learn that there was a sequel because, if I have any criticism of the book, it’s that it ended prematurely.  I wanted it to go on – so badly!  Just like I want this interview to go on.  I guess I have to get reading.  But, quick question, the audio book, narrated by Shana Savage, is just fantastic! Were you involved in choosing her for that format?

The only way to fly is listening to erotica

Molly – I was involved, and it is fantastic. Susie Bright, who produced the audio, let me choose between 3 finalists, and I chose Shana. And I’m so proud that in 2014 the audio book won an Audie award for best erotica — first time they gave an award for erotica.

Eargasms

Lola – Thanks again! We will continue this soon, I hope!!!!

Molly – Thank you, and hope to speak again.

Pam Rosenthal/Molly Weatherfield

 

 

The Golden Girls – Candi Annie

Cute Candi Annie

We’re starting a new category for this blog – “The Golden Girls” – that will feature sexy mature women (and their men).  This week we’re going to begin with a woman who has been in the lifestyle before it was called that.  Candi Annie was introduced to poly relationships real early and she hasn’t let up.  She’s in her sixties now and still going strong. If you like what you read and see, leave her a sweet comment.

Here’s the interview:

LOLA – Tell us about yourself. Where’d you grow up? Where’d you go to school? What did you do for most of your life? And how did you get into taking sexy photos and making sexy films?

Candi Annie in red

C.A. – I grew up in a small town in upstate New York and went to college in Boston- to a long gone, all girls college- Bay State Junior College. Getting away from all the limitations of a small town was an eye opener for me especially when it came to sex. I wanted to do it all and let all inhibitions go away. I tried everything I could think of sexually. A married couple that I actually “dated” at the time opened me up to not only the lifestyle having sex with other women which was great and sex on-camera. They actually arranged my first venture into hardcore porn for my eighteenth birthday where they bought me a ticket to LA to be in a “professional” porn shoot. It was so exciting and fun! My life took a turn after college and I had one bad relationship after another and my sexuality was put on the back burner for a number of reasons.

Unfortunately, the “professional porn shoot” pics are lost, but Candi Annie has tried to make up for it in later life.

Candi Annie with AARP volunteers.

Candi Annie getting off

LOLA – Where did you meet your husband and how did you two grow into the lifestyle you lead now?

C.A. – I met Al on the island of St. Croix where he was living and I was getting away from a cold New York winter and another bad relationship. We hit it off immediately! We talked for hours just walking around under the warm tropical night it was so amazing to find someone that I could tell everything to and he did not judge me. That openness is what solidified our relationship from the beginning. He never thought of me as a slut or anything like that, neither of us were virgins, what BS! He was excited to know of my previous experiences and was always wanting to know what made me feel good. The first time he went down on me it was electric, my most amazing orgasm in years! The sex just kept getting better and we were like 20 yr olds having sex 4-5 times a day. We never really thought of the lifestyle since our sex lives were already great, we just didn’t need it. But early on erotic photos did add some excitement and kept that “spark” alive.

Candi Annie with a friend at home.

Candi Annie likes to dress up to go out.

Candi Annie hitting on the staff.

LOLA – I can’t believe you’re sixty! You look great! Any special hints for preserving that beauty – both in terms of your face and also your great body?

C.A. – I am getting older and I certainly see the wrinkles more and more but I have always believed in good fast paced walks 3-4 times a week, nothing crazy and frankly speaking we still have sex every day- usually wake up sex that is usually all oral. I wake up to Al licking my pussy and after I reach my orgasm, Al brings his cock to my mouth and I “milk” him. Maybe that has something to do with all over health too, a big mouthful of cum everyday! I have to admit I crave the taste!

Candi Annie says, “A load of cum in the morning keeps me looking young!”

Candi Annie, “Next!”

Candi Annie is an inspiration to Lola Down

LOLA – I’ve noticed that most of your posts are with men and mostly older men. What are you into – men, women? Would you enjoy being with a younger man or woman?

C.A. – Older men just seem to be more caring and sensual. Ever since I visited those adult theaters in College where older men surrounded me and fondled me in such an erotic and respectful manner that I never felt uncomfortable. I would enjoy one after another but they were never forceful or disrespectful. They wanted to see me enjoying myself as much as they wanted to get off! That theater is where I met the male half of that couple I mentioned earlier. They took me under their wings and introduced me to so many exciting sexual things. Age did become an issue as we went along since I was actually only 16 when I met them but we had a great couple years and all involved had a great time. I have absolutely zero regrets!

Candi Annie camping

Candi Annie greeting the neighbors at the campground

Candi Annie has been around since before women shaved the bush

LOLA – What are your kinks, fetishes, and taboo interests?

C.A. – I think I have done them all! At this point meeting fun, interesting couples to explore with is all that is left on the bucket list. To have other couples that are well traveled open, loving but are sensual, compassionate, respectful and more on the professional and quiet side is our primary interest now. We are beyond the wild loud parties and really tired of rude, crude and pushy guys.

Candi Annie working from home

Candi Annie ready for her next Zoom meeting

Candi Annie prepping for that big presentation.

Candi Annie waiting for your call

LOLA – How long have you done this – the sex posting – and how long do you hope to keep it up?

C.A. – We started posting erotic photos about twenty years ago and without doubt it has kept the spark in our relationship! Truthfully I think this may be my last year unless perhaps the financial side improves, our sex life is great and I think the couples – swingers resorts and cruises etc will be our focus moving beyond this year. Not everything has to be on camera.

Candi Annie camping again.

Keep going Candi Annie!

LOLA – Top bucket-list sex fantasy?

C.A. – Tops is to find those elusive perfect couples to explore with! They should both be Bi, as well as the previously mentioned prerequisites. Age is irrelevant as long as everything else comes together, but it will take a “mature” couple to hit it off with us- that is an attitude not an age.

Candi Annie looking great!

LOLA – Books, movies, TV shows, and other porn stars you like?

C.A. – As far as pornstars- Nina Hartley is my long time crush and with her age she just gets more impressive. I am somewhat of a John Grisham fan and read most his books . Love erotic tales as well and of course Match, Cinder & Spark books! For TV shows I love comedy!!

Nina Hartley back in the day

Nina Hartley looking hot!

Nina Hartley timeless!

LOLA – What’s your relationship with your fans?

C.A. – I have some amazing on-line lovers! It is such a turn on for me to know the men masturbate as they watch me and cum as they think of me. If that is not some kind of LOVE I don’t know what is! My biggest thrill is to receive video tributes that show them masturbating as they watch my video and end with a huge flow of cum going all over the screen! As far as meeting in person, I am very careful and let Al deal with that. I like the fantasy that I share with my lovers on-line and living up to that in person does not always work out. They have thoughts of what I am like and I love to share and let their fantasy continue but meeting the real me can let them down and that frankly terrifies me. It happened once many years ago where we met a couple in Newport, RI where we were living at the time they wanted to get together with the point to see about moving forward with an intimate relationship. The female in that couple backed out saying I was too old and not what she expected. I was devastated and that put our swinging hopes on hold for years. I now hope to just be at a resort or on a cruise where we just happen to met the right couple that we hit it off with! As for single men – it is even more difficult – rude and crude scare me! – in person anyway… on-line it is fine!

Show us some love! Send your cumtributes for Candi Annie and Lola Down to me: downloladown@gmail.com

LOLA – What’s next for you?

C.A. – More of those cruises and hope that destiny will show us the swinger way!

LOLA – Where can we see more of you?

C.A. – My main content site is: https://candiannie.com
it is forwarded to sheer currently: https://www.sheer.com/Candi-Annie
most free content: https://www.xvideos.com/candi_annie_official
latest videos and custom work: https://www.manyvids.com/Profile/437396/candi-annie/Store/Videos
always some here: https://xhamster.com/users/newbiecpl4u
others would be newbienudes and adultism plus…

social sites:
Twitter “X” – https://x.com/anniecandi73578?lang=en
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/candiannie.bsky.social
Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/user/newbiecpl4u/?rdt=48390
MeWe: https://mewe.com/candiannie.27/posts
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61557639365527
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/candi_annie69/

If you want Candi Annie to keep doing what she’s doing into her 70’s, support her content!

Thanks so much Candi!!!!

Bye for now Candi Annie

Lola Puts the “Fun” in Fundamental Fantasy

Lola Dreams of Gang Bangs

 

“Lola, by any chance did you watch Lily Phillip’s fucking a hundred cocks?” I asked over breakfast.

“Who do what?” she replied.

“Don’t be coy.”

We were sitting on the roof deck of a fancy five-star hotel in South Beach.  To my right was the famous Ocean Blvd. and then the Atlantic.  To my left was the roof deck pool, cabanas lining the side of it, and a bar at the far end.  In the pool and lying out in the early sun were topless women and their husbands sunning themselves and drinking cocktails.  It was only ten in the morning, and at that hour a Bloody Mary is basically breakfast.  Or, at least it is when you’re on vacation.

“Of course I watched it,” she finally blurted out.  “Why?”

“I was reading an article this morning that was quite enlightening about it.”

“I bet you were,” she said with jealous derision in her tone.

“Do you care to read it?”

“What’s it called and what do you find so fascinating about it?”

“It’s called ‘Lily Phillips: One Woman’s Dream of Don Juan’ or something like that. In a nutshell, it says that there is an archetypal sexual fantasy for men and another for women.”

“I’m curious.  What would those be?”

“For men, it’s the – well, it’s a little difficult to explain,” I stumbled over my words.  “But basically, every man fantasizes about being an Alpha Male on steroids.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just imagine Rocky, The Terminator, John McClane from Die Hard, all rolled into one.”

“I get it, like Tyler Durden is to what’s his name in Fight Club.”

“Exactly.  And, he doesn’t have a name.”

“The fantasy figure?”

“No, the narrator for Fight Club, played by Edward Norton.  He’s so castrated that he doesn’t even get a name.”

“Castrated?”

“Never mind.”

“And what is a woman’s fantasy?  Please, do tell,” she said sarcastically, underscoring that it is not a man’s place to tell a woman her fantasy.

“According to this article, Don Juan.”

“Don Juan?” she repeated, stunned.  “He’s a male fantasy, if anything.  I mean, he is the prototype for those movies you just mentioned.”

“That’s what’s interesting about this essay,” I said.  “It’s a little too convoluted for me to explain.  Why don’t you read it yourself.”

I texted it to her.  She finished her breakfast, stood up, removed her bikini top, and sat in one of the lounge chairs facing the pool, phone in hand, reading the article.

I ordered a mimosa and sat across the pool from her.  I watched her from behind my dark sunglasses as her left hand held the phone in its palm and her right hand moved lower and lower down her abdomen, to her bikini bottom, and then between her legs, where she pulled the thong to the side and revealed her long, meaty labia.  She slowly stroked them in full view of all to see – especially me.

The boys get a real thrill when Lo’s around

When she was done with the article, she looked up from her phone.  There, in the pool, were at least two men and a few boys who had been spying on her just as I had been.  Let me be clear, everything she did was unconscious.  When she’s engrossed in something – a movie, a book, an article – she is oblivious to the onanistic meanderings of her free hand.  But her audience was engrossed in her.  Each of them – including me – tried to pass it off as if they hadn’t noticed a thing, but it was abundantly evident – to me and everyone else, especially the wives and moms around the pool – what captivated their attention.

She glanced over the brim of her large and dark sunglasses, smiled, fixed her bikini bottom, and walked to the bar where she sat on one of the stools.  It was a small, tiki-style bar, only big enough for four patrons at a time.  She waited for the bartender who, at that moment, was delivering a tray of drinks to various patrons around the pool.

I met her over at the bar and said, “Well?  What did you think?”

“I like that the author doesn’t deny Lily Phillips her right to claim her own pleasure, her own fantasy.  I like that he doesn’t say, “She says this, but she must be wrong.”

“And?” I was expecting a critique.

“I also agree with the observation that no man, no matter how virile, can ever get it up enough.”

“I thought you’d like that.  I mean, that was the theme of our second book, More!, after all.”

“But,” she began.

“Ah-ha!  I knew there was a but.”

The bartender returned to his post and asked Lo what she’d like.  Lo got excited.  She stood up from the stool and was now bending over, leaning on the bar, showing her thong-clad butt off to her loyal fans in the pool.

A.I. of Lola by the pool

“Hmmm,” she said, licking her lips, “you have all these specialty cocktails.  I love their whimsical names!”

“I think she’ll need a minute,” I said to the bartender, with a wink.

She was wiggling her butt in anticipation of the fun drinks, like a puppy excited to play.

“So,” I said, bringing her back to the conversation.  “What is the but?”

“Well, I think there are a lot of fantasies – not just two.”

“Fair, but I think he’s talking about a fundamental fantasy.”

“You know,” she said, looking at me now, “even Don Juan wasn’t so simple as people make him out to be.”

“Your point?”

“Well, when he was a young man – I mean, really just a boy – he was sold into slavery and then, when spied by the sex-starved sultana, Gulbeyaz, she had her eunuch buy him for her, dress him up as a harem girl, and sneak him into the sultan’s seraglio for him to please her on the sly.”

“You mean, in Byron’s telling of the tale,” I said.

“Of course Byron!” she responded.

“And your point?” I asked again.

She turned her head over her shoulder and looked at her admirers in the pool.

“Well, maybe Don Juan is a woman’s fantasy, just not the Don Juan who beds all the women.  Maybe the Don Juan who. . .”

“Lo, I think I know where you’re going with this.  You weren’t dreaming of Lily Phillips while reading that article over there,” I nodded to where she had been lying down.  “You were dreaming of MILF Meri’s son.”

“Por qué no los dos?”

“Madam?” asked the bartender.

“I’ll have the Red Headed Slut shot,” said Lo, licking her lips.

“Very good.  And you sir?”

“The Blue Balls shot.”

Meri and son with a bull

Queen of the Primal Horde

The first customer?  Or is it patron?  Client?  First cummer.  That’s it.  Anyhow, the first guy on Lo’s Naughty List showed up and gave the special secret knock at the door of the Cum Cube.  Lo let him in.  The door swung open and Lo was bent over in her diaphanous panties when he entered.

“Fuck me,” was all Lo said.  She didn’t want small-talk.  She didn’t want to get to know him.  Something about anonymous cock was really turning her on that morning.  Actually, the idea of anonymous cock had been revving her engines all week in anticipation of this.  She loves, loves, loves watching ‘The Milking Table’ vids to get off, as you probably already know.  The milking table, glory hole, dogging at night – the one thing they all have in common is anonymous cock.

The Milking Table Porn

Her eagerness for a fast, furious, filthy fuck was shared by the now naked man standing behind her bent over body.  He wasted no time and actually ripped off the panties.  They presented little resistance since they were mere gossamer-thin lace.  Lo was taken aback by the violent opening gambit.  She mourned the loss of her panties, but only for a split second.  In a split second more, her legs were split as her paramour entered her without hesitation and, on the first thrust, filled her to the hilt!  She braced herself by putting her arms straight out in front of her up against the wall and met his forward motion with an equal and opposite backward motion.  His firm front slapped up against her round rear and she called out with joy and squealed with delight as he rapidly, repeatedly, and roughly rammed his way to her record-setting climax.  She came, gushing all over his rigid rod.  But, it was only the first of many for her.

Lola in her see through black panties

Within a few moments, as he continued to be a battering ram barraging her bum with rhythmic, repetitive, roiling thrusts, she went into a dissociative fugue state.  This is unlike Lo, since she lives to fuck and fucks to live, she usually is very much in the present moment when penetrated by a long, thick prick.  But in this instance, as she braced herself against the steel wall of the Cum Cube and her lock-in lover ravished her, she free associated the cube with a conjugal cell of a prison.  She had never actually seen or been in one, but after her excursion to the prison to run an errand for me which turned into a peep-show for my incarcerated client, she had been dreaming of being the go-to girl for the boys (and girls) behind bars.

In her fugue state she was transported to a conjugal room on prison grounds.  The man behind her was the biggest, baddest, meanest, inmate of the entire state penitentiary system.  He was covered in tattoos on his bulging muscles.  He worked out every day to the extreme due to sexual frustration and a surplus of testosterone.  In her mind’s fantasy, if he behaved as the wardens wished, he was allowed one conjugal visit a month as a carrot, a bribe if you will, so he wouldn’t beat up or kill other inmates.  They allowed him to have one of Lola’s calendars on the wall with a different photo of her for each month.  This gave him the inspiration to change his behavior and moderate his extreme temper.

Whoah!  Lola felt her actual conjugal guest go right in her rear without so much as giving a warning!  After the initial shock, which sent her head spinning, she eased into it and began to enjoy the anal annihilation.

“Will it Hurt?”

Lo returned to her fantasy of the felon.  In her imaginings, he had a back-story.  He was an extreme survivalist who had lived in the woods.  He had an underground lair and whenever he came across hikers or campers, he abducted the females.  He kept them in his cave like a harem.  He had a large wolf-dog that he let mount the women as they wished.  This went on for years until the FBI finally caught up with him and arrested him.  They put him on trial but none of the women would testify against him.  He was like a cult leader to them.  They adored him and voluntarily lived under his protection – some as young as ten or eleven.  He was to them something between Charles Manson and Tarzan.

Captivating

In her wild imaginings, Lola was one of the abductees, but she rapidly climbed up the ranks to become his favorite concubine, Queen of the Primal Horde.  After he was convicted and sent to prison, he railed against his confinement and pined for Lola.  The guards quickly learned that the promise of her pussy was the only thing that would curb his violence.

All the other inmates were forced by the guards to assemble in the small outdoor cages, topped with razor wire, while Lo was escorted past them in her black leather heels, her nylons, her red pencil skirt, her white, cut-off sweater showing a lot of cleavage, and her large, dark sunglasses.  She also wore an extremely large, floppy sunhat that drooped over her face to give an added sense of mystery about her for the inmates.  They all knew what she was there for and they all lined up to see her when she was done too.  They watched as her now ripped nylons dripped with gobs of warm cum and her hair, which had been beautifully and perfectly quaffed, was now messed as if pulled from behind.  Rather than walking with a stride and sashay, as she had when she arrived, she now walked gingerly, as if she still felt the pain of that enormous cock up her ass.

Lola in her big red floppy hat. Art by Starlight Cassette

Speaking of which, now her real-life rear rammer was alternating between Lo’s primary and secondary pleasure promenades.  (I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide for yourself which is which.)  Lola was squirting every time he came out of her V and went to her A.  By now there was a large puddle in which she stood, her feet spread wide and partially submerged.

In Lo’s vivid visualization, the prison guards hatched a plan to provide them a fun distraction from the monotony.  Seeing how all the inmates cat-called Lo, pressing themselves up against the chain link fence as she passed them by, they arranged to have a boxing match between Lo’s lover and any challenger who thought he could go the distance in the ring with him – no gloves, no protective gear, no rules.  The prize – an hour in the conjugal cage with Lola.

The next month and each month afterwards, instead of just rewarding Lo’s beau with the privilege of Lo’s pussy, they made him defend his title and his conjugal prerogative.  Thus, he would meet Lo in the fornication station black-and-blue, bloodied, sweat pouring down his face, chest, arm pits, as he burned with fever in his triumphant entrance.

This elaborate transposition of Lo’s current circumstances brought Lo to many more orgasms – so many that she felt she couldn’t stand it.  She literally couldn’t stand anymore.  And, pent-up with so many months of loneliness, her anonymous associate came too, engorging the condom he wore for their mutual protection.  Oh, how Lo dearly wished he could have cum inside her – front or back – and made her a Christmas cream-pie.  But on orders of the mayor and Board of Health, that was not to be.

Digital Inspiration

It appears that word got out about Lola’s “immoral support” of Ted, the “known donor” for our friends Gina and Cam.  You see, a while back Lo “encouraged” Ted’s selfless sperm donation.  I’m pleased to say that the process eventually proved successful.  Gina and Cam are now the proud parents of a baby boy!

They are so proud that they have told a wide circle of friends and acquaintances all about the method by which they got pregnant, including Lo’s special role in it.  One morning, out of the blue, as Lo was scrolling through her long list of long dongs, micro penises, clits and tits to get herself off, she got a message from a stranger.  That’s not too uncommon, but this stranger knew our friends Gina and Cam and he had an unusual request.

His name was Terence and he was a man in his mid-thirties.  Like most of Cam and Gina’s friends, he wasn’t straight, but he wasn’t out as gay either.  He, like Lola, identified as “queer.”  But he wasn’t just queer, he had a downright perverted side to him.  There were a lot of things that he enjoyed doing to get himself off, but I’ll let those unfold as we get to them.  At this point, the one kink that he revealed to Lo was pertinent to the ask he had of her.

“I go to the sperm bank regularly to make a donation,” he said.

That’s quaint, thought Lo, as first.  A good Samaritan who, like a blood donor, gives of himself for others.  Not quite.  It turns out he likes to go there in order to wank in a public setting.  He likes the thought that the receptionist knows that he is jerking off in the room next to her.

This revelation really turned Lo on.  She had never thought of that possibility before.  Whenever she had thought of a sperm bank, which, given Lo’s predisposition for naughty imaginings she had thought of on occasion, she only thought of guys going in there embarrassed, a little humiliated, and bashful.  She hadn’t entertained the idea of a quasi-exhibitionist being turned on by the thought of everyone knowing from the outset what his particular purpose for visiting the clinic is and that, when done, they all know for certain what he had just accomplished.

She was intrigued, to say the least, and she carried on a lengthy correspondence with him.  He told her that he had been doing this on a regular basis at the same collection clinic for months now.  He also mentioned that – by design or happy coincidence – all the nurses at this clinic are very attractive and that he had built a special rapport with one of them named Ellie.

He told Lo how Ellie always works the closing shift.  For convenience, the collection clinic is open from 8:00 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.  They found that they get more people willing to donate after work hours.  She is the only staff on site, except for the security guard, after five.  He had made it a regular habit to donate when she’s working and she has taken some liberties with the rules.  It started out that he noticed her flirting with him.  Then, one week, he found a photo of her on the top of the pile of magazines.  Each week the photo she placed there got a little bit more risqué.  One week, when he exited the collection station room, he apologized to her and said, “I made a little mess.  I missed the target and spilled some semen on your, I mean, the photo in there.”

She gave him a knowing look.  He imagined, but couldn’t confirm, that she went into the room after and got the cum-covered glossy photo of herself and did something with it.  The next week he found she had left a nude photo of herself.  He made sure to make a mess of that too and apologize again.

Within the month, she was in the collection room with him, jerking him off.  She began by merely stroking him.  But then it progressed to her stroking him and reading passages from books and blogs.  At one point, she read to him from Match, Cinder & Spark.  She was already familiar with Lola and me because we had written about her in the post, “Triangles of Sadness.”  After she broke up with Steven, she actually became infatuated with Lola, even though Lola was the cause of her breakup.

Ellie & Steve before the breakup

It was a small world because she also read the story about Lola: “ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor.”  Terence realized that this Lola Down was the same person that his friends Cam and Gina had told him about.  Now he had her email address (through the blog) and he reached out to her.  Having learned about Lo’s personality, he wisely included some sexy selfies.

Terence expressed his kinky wish to Lo.  He knew that this donation clinic allowed for wives or significant others to accompany the donor in order to help with the donation process.  He wanted Lola to pose as his girlfriend for that purpose.  And, he wanted to do it during the day shift when his special nurse wouldn’t be there and so the nurses who didn’t know him would now be aware of exactly what he and Lola were up to in that room.  It was an extension and variation on his fundamental kink which was simply jerking off in a room merely a few feet from the nurse who knows what he’s doing and then seeing her face afterwards.

Perhaps unremarkably, the exotic and extravagant nature of this kink turned Lo on.  She spent many nights whispering in my ear, asking me what I thought it would be like for her to do this for Terence because, you see, Terence had just donated and so now needed to wait a couple of more weeks before he could schedule to make his deposit with Lo’s assistance.

Night-after-night she tantalized me by masturbating in the bed next to me, looking at Terence’s photos – which only got more explicit and, according to Lo, more hot, each day – and telling me the narrative of how she would like the session to go.

Lola looking at cumtributes.

Finally, the big day came – and so did Lo, many times that morning before she left our warm bed to meet Terence at the fertility clinic.

It was a bitterly cold day.  We had been in the grip of a cold-snap for two or three days already.  Lo had spent at least an hour prepping for her little lab-assistant role.  She tried on at least five different outfits, asking me each time, “What do you think about this?”  I loved each one, but as soon as I said so, she found it objectionable for some reason and started anew.  Finally, she decided on a short skirt, black nylons under it, no panties.  A black, mostly transparent, crepe blouse, no bra.  Over that incredibly hot outfit, she draped her long, heavy white coat and put on her knee-high leather boots.

Lo getting dressed for “work”

I was desperate to have her.  Every outfit change, she stripped back down to nothing at all and it was too much for me to bear.  I was hard and suffering and she made me sit through the entire process.  Not that I was complaining, but it was a form of sexual torture.

She left me high and dry with the instruction that under no circumstances, was I to masturbate.  That is pretty much a standing rule, but she knew how hot she had made me for her and she knew she’d want all that pent-up energy for herself upon her return.

Just like that she was off!  She was to meet Terence at the clinic.  Separate cars.  This was not a date.  Lo was very clear about that.  This was a clinical assistance project.

Whatever she wanted to call it, she arrived before Terence.

Lo waited in the car.  She could see her breath as she waited.  She touched herself between her legs, gently stroking over the nylons.  She liked the feel of the nylon as it rubbed against her pussy and clit.  She was getting wet.  Her warm wetness and the dropping temperature in the car was stimulating her between her legs.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to wait much longer.  Either he had to arrive or she’d have to “go all the way” with herself.

She saw Terence walking in the parking lot.  “Good,” she thought, “because any longer and I’d cum right here and who knows?  Maybe I’d squirt and it would freeze!”

Lo practically leapt out of the car and met him.

“Hey,” she said, trying to play it cool.

“Hi.”

It was awkward, but only for a moment.  Lola grabbed his hand.  “We’re supposed to be a couple, right?”

“Right,” he said.

They walked together into the clinic.  They stopped at the reception desk.  Terence flashed a cordial but gregarious smile at the woman sitting behind counter.  He introduced himself and said that he had an appointment for noon.  The woman typed something into her computer and then smiled back.

“Yes, room three,” she said, looking at Lola who had opened her long white coat to reveal the transparent blouse underneath it.  For a brief moment, Lola thought she had overplayed her hand.  The receptionist typed something into her computer and then looked up at Terence and Lo.  She said, “Ah yes, I see you have already entered the information about your service assistant.”

Lo tried to smile politely at the woman, but she felt as if “service assistant,” sounded too much like “service dog.”  But then Lo’s mind went to that kinky area (which is about 99% of her mind) and she began to think what it would be like to have a “service dog” to service her in the manner that she was about to service Terence.  Lo was already getting wet.  Or, wetter, I should say.

The receptionist passed a collection jar to Terence and also passed him an individual sized, complementary miniature tube of special lube that would not contaminate the collection sample.

“Do you need instructions?” she asked as she handed the lube to Terence.

“No, I’ve been here before.”

The receptionist gave him a knowing look and then went back to her typing.

Terence casually led Lo down the white, sterile hallway and to room three.  All along the hall were posters of Roy Stuart’s photos.  Terence opened the door and let Lo in like a gentleman.  In the little white room was a sink, a small white shelf next to it, a comfortable chair, a small TV screen with a CD player, some porno mags under the TV and more framed Roy Stuart posters on the walls.  Lo also noticed a large, coffee table book by one of her favorite photographers, Sabrina Dacos.

Roy Stuart Photography

Roy Stuart “Glimpse”

Sabrina Dacos Selfie

Sabrina Dacos tits and shaved snatch

Lo looked around, taking it all in.  She was even more excited now as she imagined all the men who had been in this room and what they were doing there.  Sex, in all its permutations and manifestations, holds a perpetual allure for Lo.

One thing that Lo’s keen observation of the room and its objects didn’t see was a coat rack for her white overcoat.

“You sit down.  Get comfortable,” she said to Terence.  “I’m going to find a place to hang up my coat.”

She turned back around and went out to the receptionist.

“Excuse me,” she said as politely as she could, “but is there a place for me to hang my coat?”

The receptionist pointed her down a different hallway.  “Just to your left,” she said.

Lo walked down that hallway and, to her surprise, she saw framed posters lining it with images by David Hamilton.

David Hamilton’s Laura

Art by David Hamilton

She saw a line of coat hangers along the far wall and she hung up her coat.  Walking back towards the receptionist – the building was shaped like an ‘L,’ with the receptionist at the intersection of the two perpendicular wings – she said, “I didn’t know you had a children’s section.”

The receptionist looked up, blank-faced.  She saw Lo’s prominent breasts, nearly naked, just under the loose-fitting sheer black blouse.  She merely opened her mouth, making a little pout with her lips.  Lo wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she took it as a compliment and walked past her proudly.

Lo breezed by a single man in the hallway who was also on his way to a different room.  Lo made clear and unambiguous eye contact with him.  However, his eyes quickly looked down and settled on Lo’s tits.  Lo could understand the allure to both working there and going there as an exhibitionist like Terence.  There was something exciting and stimulating for Lo knowing that the man she passed in the hall was either about to go jack off or had just finished.  And it excited her for him to know that she was roaming the hallway in search of stimulating some eager altruist ready to selflessly give his essence to some needy couple.  Lo walked briskly, keenly anticipating her part to play with Terence.

Terence was now sitting in the chair.  Lo looked at him.  He smiled at the sight of her in the blouse.  Lo had expected he would be naked, or at least pantless by this point, but he was just sitting there, clothed as he was when Lo went down the hall.  He also wore a wide grin on his face, staring at her tits and then her eyes and back to her tits.

“So,” said Lo, “how do you want to do this?”

“I guess, if you just unzip me, pull me out, lube me up, and I’ll take it from there,” he said.

Lo pulled out two sterile latex gloves from the box on the counter next to the Sabrina Dacos book.  She put them on and then unbuttoned Terence’s pants, unzipped the fly, pulled them down around his ankles.  He was already hard and bulging from under his tight white underwear.

Lo pulled down the underwear and his long, thick dick sprung out like a Jack-in-the-Box.  Lo marveled at its size, shape, and apparent eagerness to donate.

“You like?” he asked.

“MmmmHmmmm,” she moaned.  Her face was only inches away from the specimen and, had they been in another setting, she would have taken the meat in her mouth with relish.  But she could not do that, lest the donation become contaminated and useless.

“Anything in particular that will help you?”

“Can you get naked?”

“No,” said Lo, as if offended.  “This is not for pleasure.  This is a selfless act of generosity to both science and humanity.”

What a load of malarkey!  Did she actually believe that?  No.  It was part of the game.

“Then,” he said a bit disappointed, “can you at least stand close to me?”

In point of fact, she was actually standing right next to him.  He sat.  She leaned over and held his cock in her gloved hand.  She was bouncing it on her fingers to see just how rigid, weighty, and stiff it was.  Then she put a heaping dab of the lube in her palm.  She slowly applied the lube to his shaft, deliberately stroking up-and-down, base-to-tip, a few times before setting to work in earnest.  She began vigorously jerking him off.

“A little slower,” he requested politely.

She shifted into a lower gear.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Your tits.”

“Say more.”

“I want to suck them and lick them.  Those nipples under your blouse – God!  They look amazing.”

She leaned in a little further so that the apex of her breasts were mere centimeters from his lips.

“How long does it typically take you to cum?” she asked.

“I masturbate a lot,” he said.

“That’s ok.”

“So it takes me nearly the full half-hour.”

The rooms were assigned by half-hour increments, but the staff preferred if donors were faster so they had proper time to clean up and disinfect each room when done.

When he said this, Lola took it as a personal challenge.  How quickly could she get this compulsive masturbator to ejaculate?

“When’s the last time you came?” she asked.

“This morning.”

“What?!  I thought they only allow you to donate once every two weeks because if you did it more often it lowers the sperm count.”

“Yeah, that’s a dumb rule, isn’t it?” he said, looking at Lo, their eyes and mouths very close.  “I mean, they can’t monitor or control what happens at home.”

“What did you cum to this morning?” she asked.

“Thinking about you doing this.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And, in your imagination as you were at home in bed jacking off, what did you think would happen?”

“Can I tell you the truth?”

“Yes, please!”

“I was jacking off in bed next to my sleeping wife.”

“Your wife?!” asked Lo, still stroking up-and-down, “You’re married?”

“Yes.  You didn’t know that?” he said, looking directly at her now.

“No, I didn’t know anything about you except that you heard about me through Gina and Cam and what you’ve told me.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, not at all.  Why should I be?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe you think I’m a perverted, sleazy, creep.”

“Why would I think that?  Because you’re married and go to a sperm bank to get off and you masturbate in bed next to your sleeping wife?”

“Well, uh, yeah.  When you put it that way.”

“Don’t.  Everyone has their kinks, their quirks, their turn-ons and offs.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, I know that, but you don’t think bad of me because of it?”

“Of course not.  In fact, it turns me on that you were jerking off next to her.”

“It does?”

“Yes,” she said, adding pressure to her grip and speed to her stroke.  “It will turn me on more if you told me what you were thinking about as you did it.”  She brought it back to this because he was losing his hard-on with all the conversation.

“I was thinking that you’d get naked and let me feel your body, maybe let me suck your tits, and. . .”

“Now, now,” said Lo, putting a damper on his hopes, “that would be against the rules.”

In point of fact, there were no rules other than not contaminating the sample by coaxing it out either orally or vaginally.  But no rules were in force to stop Lola from getting naked.  She just liked enforcing arbitrary rules.

“Too bad,” he said.

“What do you think of that?” asked Lo, indicating the Roy Stuart poster in front of them.

Terence glanced up at the brunette in the frame and then looked deep into Lola’s eyes and simply said, “I wish it was you.”

That little comment put an idea in Lo’s head and she felt herself gushing from the thought of it.

She started moaning as if she were the one receiving the erotic massage and the auditory stimulation really got Terence going.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You like stroking me?”

“Mmmmm, so much.”

“You want to see me cum?”

She just bit down on her lower lip and this was enough to bring Terence to the brink.

“Quick!  The specimen jar!”

Lo grabbed it as Terence took matters in his own hands and aimed right at the small target.  Out came loads and loads of cum – more than Lo had ever seen before in one orgasm.  If she was gushing just a moment ago, now she was a full-on leaky labiator.

“FUUUUUUCK!” cried out Terence, certainly loud enough for the receptionist to hear.

“That’s a boy,” encouraged Lo, dropping to her knees as if wanting desperately to be the receptacle for his deposit, as if worshiping his cock and potency, as if weak in her knees from the visual excitement.

When he was done, he cleaned up the bit he spilled or dribbled down his leg and then he pulled up his pants, zipped up, tucked in his shirt, and made himself generally presentable.

Lo and Terence emerged from room #3 and walked to the reception desk.  Terence dropped off the collection container and the receptionist looked up without any expression on her face.

“All set,” said Terence.

“All set,” the receptionist replied with a polite smile.

Lo was holding Terence’s hand as if she was his girlfriend.  She returned the polite smile to the receptionist and the two of them walked out into the freezing cold.  Lo’s nipples became like diamond cutters immediately and she squeezed Terence’s hand and said, “You go on home.  I forgot my coat!”  She gave him a loving kiss, open-mouthed, and squeezed his hand before turning around and going back into the clinic.

Terence waited a bit in the parking lot, but when Lo didn’t come back out for a while, he figured he’d better drive away before he looked like he was stalking her, or someone else at the clinic.  After all, his car was on, the windows were fogging up, and it was clear from the exhaust that he was just idling in the parking lot outside the front doors of the sperm donation site.

Send Lo your cumtribute.