Category Archives: Pornography
Erica Garza Exposes Herself
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Lola and Erica Garza’s Getting Off
We are incredibly pleased to share with you all Lola’s exclusive interview with the writer and sex-positive advocate, Erica Garza!
In case you don’t know, Erica Garza is the author of a beautiful memoir, published in 2018, about her struggle with shame, sex, and self-pleasure/self-punishment: Getting Off: One Woman’s Journey Through Sex and Porn Addiction. I had heard about it and immediately recognized a soul-sister and got the book. I read it cover-to-cover in one night – a night punctuated by masturbatory intermissions. HH found it hidden in the closet (how appropriate) one day and that turned into a little story he wrote about our trip to a wedding.
Other people found our blog through Erica and Erica through our blog. Erica and I struck up a friendship and recently I interviewed her to find out some of the things that left me panting for more after putting the book down.
Erica Garza and her book, Getting Off
L – Your book starts off with the passage: “My favorite porn scene of all time involves two sweaty women, fifty horny men, a warehouse, a harness, a hair dryer, and a taxicab.” You go on to say, no matter how you imagine these elements interacting, “I bet you still can’t imagine just how revolting the scene actually is.” At the end of the book, you are talking to your boyfriend, soon to be husband (spoiler alert!), and he asks you about your favorite porn. You realize that to tell him about this “revolting” scene is dangerous. But telling him was necessary in your journey from sexual shame, guilt, and deception to self-love, acceptance, and honesty. You realize that your greatest fear is “being exposed.” Not as in being naked in front of others, even strangers, but being seen, for who you really are, as a compulsive masturbator who gets off to the revolting. I mention all this because, did you know, that when one does a Google search for “porn, two women, fifty men, warehouse, harness, hair dryer, taxicab,” you pop up as one of the top hits? (After this interview goes live, mysexlifewithlola will probably be the top hit.) Seems like your book was an exercise in “exposing yourself.” How does that make you feel now?
E – You are 100% correct. My book, essays, and interviews are all exercises in exposing myself in the same way as telling my husband about my favorite porn and baring my soul to a room full of addicts at a 12 step meeting. Every time I reveal the things about myself that I used to hate and keep secret, I’m taking the power away from those feelings and transferring that power back to me. Every time I utter a secret aloud and people nod their heads in recognition, I feel less alone, more connected, and more at peace with myself. The things I’m into and the things I’ve done are not so bad, I’ve realized. And that means I’m not so bad either.
L – Your book is dedicated to, “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed.” Isn’t that all of us at some point in our lives at least?
The author, Erica Garza
E –Totally. I’ve had a lot of different people connect with my story who come from entirely different backgrounds. I’m a 41-year-old Latina from Los Angeles who was raised in a Catholic household, but I’ve been contacted by readers ranging from 12 to 70, men and women, of all different ethnicities, religions, and income brackets. So many of them had the same story: They grew up thinking sex was bad and they hated themselves for enjoying their sexual proclivities in secret. Like me, they were desperate for self-acceptance but didn’t know how to find it. This desperation usually led to destructive and compulsive behaviors and broken relationships. Had we just been taught that there was nothing wrong with us from the start—would that have changed everything? Would we be happier people? I think yes.
L – Throughout the book you mention how you would often bring yourself to orgasm by thinking about “what a miserable slut I am.” Can you explain a bit more how this thought got you off?
E – Shame and pleasure are intricately connected for me. When I first masturbated to orgasm in the bathtub at age 12, I distinctly remember how good it felt and yet how bad I felt once it was over. Nobody had ever talked to me about sex except to say it was something dirty and wrong and so I had this heavy feeling I had discovered something I wasn’t supposed to. And I LOVED it, which made me sick and defective. The only solution to these bad feelings was to go after the pleasure again, reinforcing this intoxicating dichotomy. Later, I would seek out porn that gave me this dose of pleasure and shame, typically scenes of degradation. To be turned on, I had to be turned off, disgusted with myself. This then transferred over to my relationships. I wanted men to make me feel used in bed, demeaned, and then discarded afterward.
L – Your book is fascinating because it’s not only a personal coming-of-age story, but it also tracks the development of on-line porn. You talk about watching porn on VHS with your brother’s girlfriend and sneaking sex chats on-line right in front of your parents, then you chronicle the first porno sites on the internet right up to the proliferation of humiliation, extreme BDSM, and more. It’s like you grew up with porn and the porn industry grew up with you. Your book is also unusual as a memoir because it contains a lot of footnotes to studies and research about the effects of porn and women self-reporting about their use of porn. What is your take on porn’s popularity now and how women in particular use it. I guess, I’m thinking especially of OnlyFans and the many women during the pandemic who found ways of becoming entrepreneurs (or “entrepornors”).
OF Content Creator StrawberryWine @swtlikestrawber
E – I’m here for it. I find OnlyFans to be a fantastic addition to the porn world because it allows women to be in charge of their own content. Sure, we have many more female porn producers/directors, but I think it’s safe to say it’s still a male dominated industry when it comes to who’s operating the camera. I’m excited to see women taking initiative in making porn as long as they’re not merely perpetuating what they think men want. But I’m even more excited about women as viewers. I’m not sure about how many women are turning to OnlyFans for porn, but it would be fascinating data. If more women talked about what we like and what we want and what we’re willing to pay for, the less shame we’ll feel about our desires.
It’s funny you say I grew up with the porn industry and the porn industry grew up with me. It’s so accurate. And while I’m not anti-porn (unless the porn is made without someone’s consent of course), I do worry about what kids have access to when they’re just starting to explore their sexuality. When I was 12 and first started masturbating and looking at porn, I only had access to softcore scenes on Cinemax. They were so mild and still left a lot of room for my imagination. And when I advanced to watching porn online, scenes took so long to load so I couldn’t get caught up in a binge—endlessly searching for a harder, darker, sexier scene than the last. It was too much effort. Now the internet is at a place where a 12 year old could look up “two women, fifty men, a warehouse, a harness, hair dryer, and a taxicab,” or any other hardcore scene. And this is the new mild. Once they get bored with that, they can instantly search for something harder but they haven’t even discovered sex in real life yet. When they do start to explore with someone, their idea of what sex should look or feel like is likely to be distorted. They’ll probably end up performing; instead of naturally discovering what they like or what feels good, their desires will have been finely curated by whatever they had access to. I think this could be really damaging.
Porn Star Shannon Tweed
Dreaming of Shannon Tweed and Lola Down
L – You mention being enamored of such VHS stars as Shannon Tweed, and lusting for Tommy Lee’s long shlong, Pamela Anderson’s tits, and the power Gwyneth Paltrow’s character of Estella had over Finn in Great Expectations. Does anyone come to mind today as either a quick fap fave, a girl-crush, or a role model?
Gwyneth Paltrow
E –Besides you, Lola? 😉 I don’t watch porn much these days (which is so weird to say), but when I do I like Megan Salinas who I’m not sure even performs anymore. I think her videos are a few years old. My girl crushes are always evolving though I just finished watching White Lotus so the Italian actress Simona Tabasco (Lucia) comes to mind. I’m also inspired by Paulina Porizkova who is nearly 60 and so hot and comfortable in her skin without looking plastic.
Scene from White Lotus Season II
L – You say, “In all the movies I’d ever watched, men were the ones who made the first move. Women, it seemed, either played hard to get and were labeled dick-teasing prudes, or they quickly gave in and were called sluts and whores.” This is the old Freudian dichotomy of Virgin/Whore. For a long time, it seemed that either/or was the only choice society or culture presented for women. If you were young, you were either a virgin or a whore. If you were older, you were either matronly or a whore. Women could never be both. What do you think of the movement to reclaim the word “slut” from being a pejorative to a badge of honor?
Megan Salinas
Simona Tabasco
Paulina Porizkova is a dirty girl
Paulina Porizkova wins the solitary mud-wrestling prize
Paulina Porizkova – wash me!
Paulina Porizkova like a fine wine
E –We’re making some progress with more women being open about their sex lives but we still have a long way to go, especially in the U.S. This country is so ridiculously misogynistic. Just scroll through the comments section of any article written about a woman’s love life and the evidence is in plain view.
L – Along those same lines, one thing I’ve encountered, even with my man, HH, is people saying, “Wow, you have the libido of a man.” Isn’t that also a double-standard? I mean, men who do or did the things you did are just “guys being guys,” but a woman doing it is somehow labeled with a disorder and many of them feel guilt and shame about it. But if you were a man, would you feel that sort of shame or guilt?
E –The only solution to this is for more women to speak up. But to speak about what you want and need sexually requires self-awareness. If you’ve been taught that sex is shameful, it’s possible you ended up in a cycle of repression. You don’t even know what you like anymore and if you do, you’re keeping that to yourself. The more honest and comfortable women are about their sexuality, the more we’ll see that men and women are more alike than we think.
L – I love when you talk about the power that Gwyneth Paltrow had over Finn. Do you think that writing your book was a way of reclaiming your feminine sexual power?
Female Sexual Power
E – Absolutely. When I first suspected I had an addiction to sex and porn, I thought I had to put myself in a box to be “recovered.” I would never watch porn again, I’d go to 12 step meetings, I’d only be in a monogamous relationship. But that quickly started to feel inauthentic. It felt like an extension of my early childhood shame, like I was desperate to stop doing things that felt good. I realized that the driving force of my addiction all along was that shame. That’s when I started to explore how I could be a sexually open-minded, experimental person and not feel bad about it. This entailed not lying to myself and not lying to others, being open in my communication, and ultimately not thriving on destruction. Realizing I could be sexual without shame was an empowering revelation.
L – You talk about the sexy and nude photos and homemade porno movies you made with different boyfriends and the fear you have of those ever resurfacing. Has that happened? I mean, after the success and popularity of the book, one of your exes must have heard about it and read about you. Did any of them come forward, either privately or publicly, with “naughty” goods?
E – Surprisingly, no! And I didn’t even use a pen name. I also expected past lovers to reach out and comment on the book, ESPECIALLY if I wrote explicitly about them! But it never happened. No videos have ever resurfaced (yet!) though I would be curious to see that younger version of myself tbh.
L – You say that your “preferences were changing all the time. I loved ‘old and young’ clips. I’d also taken a liking to watching drunken girls get walked around on leashes at parties or get fucked by groups of men while seemingly unconscious. I’d discovered the category ‘bukkake’ and felt simultaneously disgusted and excited every time I watched multiple men come all over a girl’s face before urging her to lick up the drips that had fallen on the carpet beneath her. I didn’t consider any of this normal.” It wouldn’t exist if people didn’t watch it. I mean, what is normal anyway?
E – Who knows. That line of thinking came from a place of deep shame and self-disgust and judgement. I felt so isolated and broken in this shame and couldn’t imagine anyone else would understand. But, like I said, if more women spoke up about what they liked and what they’re into, the less alone people like me would feel.
L – I love the passage where you combine what you learned meditating with your active imagination. You say, “Suddenly I was the girl on the shore of that river I’d imagined in meditation. I watched a boat come by with a skinny blond college girl spread-eagle on its main deck getting fucked by a whole fraternity. And then another boat where a girl on a leash was held facedown by a man’s boot while another man fucked her from behind. Each time I came, I returned to my breath.” When you’re done, you admit to yourself that you’re “out of control.” For people wondering, how would you characterize unhealthy from healthy masturbatory practices or porn viewing?
Role Models
E –That’s not up to me to say. Each person’s experience is different. For me, feeling incapable of stopping seemed to be a clue. Even when I felt sore or numb. Finding that I’d wasted hours trying to find the perfect clip, especially if it meant neglecting other plans or responsibilities was another. Failing to nurture real relationships or friendships in pursuit of another orgasm also seemed problematic.
L – At one point you talk about a guy you were with and how when you ran out of things to talk about or it got awkward, you reached for “what I’d always reached for to help me with the awkwardness. I initiated sex whenever I felt things getting weird. I was tireless with blow jobs, encouraging him to come on my face, begging him to slap me, to fuck me harder, to hurt me, to do whatever he wanted, playing the role of the perfect, pleasing porn girl.” Do you think that your exposure to hard-core porn led you to believe that this was what men wanted, or was it a thrill and a turn-on to play this role? I mean, so much in life is role playing, including sex and it can be fun. And sometimes it can be difficult to disentangle where your own desire ends and trying to meet the desire of someone else begins. Or maybe there is no clear distinction.
E –I think it’s all about balance. If your fetish is that you’re into degradation, rough sex, humiliation, role play, then why not? You do what feels good, but then at some point you leave the bedroom and life goes on. For me, that degradation leaked out of the bedroom and into real life. I didn’t just expect a guy to make me feel used and demeaned in bed as roleplay, I also expected him to ignore my calls, say abusive things, and lie to me afterward. I did not feel worthy of love and respect, so when someone tried to give those things to me I’d run away and destroy the relationship. But I desperately wanted love and respect. I felt lonely and isolated and the only company I could keep was sexual company. What was friendship? What was intimacy? What was connection? I wanted to know these things but had no idea how.
L – Was there anything that you had originally written for the book that the editor or publisher asked you to remove?
E – The footnotes were originally integrated into the text, but they were found to be distracting. They were almost cut out completely but I really wanted to keep them in. The research proved that what I was going through (and what my reader might be going through) was way more common than most people think. So many of our struggles are universal, yet we feel so alone much of the time. I hoped that the research would show readers they’re not simply “fucked up,” but that there’s likely a scientific explanation behind their feelings and actions.
L – As I mentioned, your memoir is intertwined with the historical development of internet porn. One of the positive things I see about that development is that a lot of people, especially women, trans folk, and others have been able to connect with communities out there and realize that they’re not alone, not the “the wankers, the loners, the weirdos, the perverts, the outcasts, the bullied, the flawed, the awkward, the shunned, and the shamed” to whom you dedicated the book, but that they are part of humanity in all its beautifully multifarious forms. HH, because he’s older, frequently tells me that so much of what is normal human activity was totally in the closet when he was younger, especially female masturbation. One thing that the internet porn might have influenced is the normalization of women pleasuring themselves. I mean, once upon a time you never saw it, but it’s now part of so many popular shows and movies – Sex & the City, Seinfeld, Weeds, Fleabag, SMILF, New Girl, The Shape of Water, Sex Education, Broad City, just to name a few. Women are sexual beings. We can be students, moms, daughters, sisters, wives, bosses, and also get off without going to Hell. Do you think that girls growing up today are exposed to a healthier view of women’s sexuality than when you grew up?
SMILF with Frankie Shaw Look Carefully and you’ll see what gets Frankie Shaw off.
SMILF
Frankie Shaw asks, “Do you like my poster of Lola Down?”
Frankie Shaw in SMILF in a scene where she gets off to Lola Down
E – Yes, our entertainment has become more inclusive and I love seeing these realistic, multi-dimensional folks be represented. But let’s not forget that Roe v. Wade just got overturned, which has everything to do with female sexuality and bodily autonomy. Sexism still exists because the wage gap still exists, because doctors still gaslight women, because we still haven’t elected a female president…and so forth. These things may seem unrelated to women masturbating, but the personal is political. It always has been. Female pleasure is powerful and people are afraid of this power. Women and lots of marginalized folks are still socialized to believe our pleasure doesn’t matter. And d this has huge implications. I’m so inspired by pleasure activism, specifically the work by author adrienne maree brown who ways capitalism creates a “false scarcity” of pleasurable experiences for the marginalized. We’re taught that “our health, our votes, our work, our safety, our families, our lives don’t matter – not as much as those of white men.” Simply put, being denied pleasure makes us easier to control. So, yes, I get excited when I see female characters on our TV set pursuing personal pleasure just as male characters always have, but I won’t be satisfied until I see those larger equalities at play in other aspects of our lives.
L – Toward the end of the book, after you met the man who would become your husband, and after you began writing publicly about your struggles and began being honest with him and yourself about your past, you begin to find some balance or at least a temporary truce with your inner demons, for lack of a better description. If I’m not getting too personal, how much of your past plays a role in your present? Or, another way of asking that is, do you and your husband enjoy “getting off” to some of your past sexcapades? Does he find it sexy to hear about, or is it something that you two avoid?
Erica – Take me as I am
E – My husband does not like hearing about my sexual past. Not because he’s judgmental or embarrassed or possessive, it just doesn’t turn him on I guess. I’ve written about us going to a swingers resort where we we explored quite a bit and enjoyed ourselves, but he didn’t like watching me with other men. And I didn’t really watch him either, which is weird because I do sometimes fantasize about him sleeping with other women. I just haven’t felt the need to watch the real thing happen. Sometimes, the fantasy is hotter.
L – In 2015, in an article you wrote for narratively.com, you said, “Masturbating beside my husband while he sleeps is the last secret I’ve kept from him. Although I’m beginning to fear that it’s actually just the latest secret. My resistance in telling him only proves how fragile recovery is. This week it’s masturbation. But maybe next week it’s back to porn binging. Or obsessive scrolling through Craigslist personals. Or lying about my whereabouts. And so forth. Abstaining from these habits, when so readily available, without abstaining from sexual pleasure completely, or the shame I’ve long bound to it, is a challenge I face daily.” Looking back on that now, how have you fared over the past seven years?
E – It has been a rollercoaster of up and downs. Of me (and us) figuring out what we like and what we don’t, what’s right for us and what’s off limits, what feels safe and what feels dangerous or destructive. But I like the process. Humans evolve and so do our sex lives and I’m grateful to be with someone I could be 100% honest with.
L – What is your sexual life like now – I mean, with yourself and with your partner or partners? In the book you seem open to threesomes and other non-monogamous situations. Have you found a way that works for you individually and you as a couple?
E – We’re open minded but not in an open relationship. So while we do experiment with others, we only do so as a couple. Honesty is sacred to us. We always have conversations before we do anything with anyone else and then we have conversations after that about what we will or won’t do next time.
L – In some articles you wrote after the book came out, you talk about going to nudist resorts with your husband and having “soft-swaps.” You also mention “relapsing” after marriage and sneaking off to masturbate to porn – at least until you came home one day and caught him doing the same thing. Then you lifted the prohibition you had on porn in your relationship and found out something surprising – you two could integrate it into your lives together. Can you talk about that balance? I mean, unlike drug and alcohol addiction, you can’t really ever cut sex, sexuality, or sexual fantasy out of your life 100%. No one is a tee-total reformed sex addict, because we, as human beings, are sexual beings. How have you and your husband been able to navigate that?
E— Unless you’re joining a convent, you’re going to have to find a way to integrate sex (and maybe porn) back into your life in a healthy way. For me, I know the difference between when I’m watching porn to escape a difficult feeling or watching because I simply want to, because it feels good. It’s a fine line and takes a lot of self awareness but it’s possible.
L – In an article you once wrote about the difficulty of being a porn-addicted feminist. You said, “You want to stop because the hypocrisy is so intense it makes you nauseous. You call yourself a feminist, an activist, a conscious citizen, but then you watch women get walked around on leashes and your panties get soaked through. . . [and] you’ll scan over all the gangbangs and golden showers, convinced (or at least hopeful) that your sickness isn’t a sickness, but a natural fascination.” That was in 2016, three years after Belle Knox, a.k.a. Miriam Weeks, was outed as the Duke University porn star and she defended her decisions as her form of feminism. Since then many women have made names and careers for themselves in porn – both in front of the camera and behind it – and have promoted ethical porn and feminist porn. What’s your take on the possibility that porn and feminism are not mutually exclusive?
E – Bodily autonomy and consent is everything. If a woman wants to be a sex worker, she should be allowed to do that. It’s her body. If a woman is coerced into sex work and she feels she has no other choice, that is an entirely different thing.
L – Something I love about the book is your frequent literary references. In addition to porn, you clearly have an affinity for literature. Some favorite authors, books, or movies you go back to frequently?
E – I don’t often reread books, but when I do, it’s usually A Moveable Feast because I find Paris and Hemingway both sexy as hell. Otherwise I feast myself on memoirs, biographies, journals, anything confessional and real. Right now I’m reading (and adoring) I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jeanette McCurdy, who also had some familiar conflicted feelings about sex and love and her body.
L – A little self-indulgent inquiry now. You reached out to me recently and hinted that you’ve been reading the blog. Are we – HH and me – a part of your sexual fantasy life or your erotic life with your husband? Be honest.
E – For now, your blog is a solitary pleasure. I’m not ready to share you yet 😉
“Don’t be. Erica Garza says you’re just a woman with a healthy libido.”
Op-Ed from the Politico-Parody Press
Breaking News: Sanna Marin, the thirty-six year old, female, Finnish prime minister had fun!
Prime Minister of Finland Sanna Marin
Yes, there is evidence and she has even confessed to it publicly. At a news conference, she admitted to being “boisterous” with her friends at a party. Subsequently, a photo of two women, kissing, and revealing their breasts, though covered by a sign that said “Finland,” appeared on the TikTok of Sabina Särkkä, a thirty-three year old “influencer” and friend of the Finnish prime minister. She was one of the two women engaged in the now infamous kiss/flash, though Sanna Marin was not the unknown second woman.
This appalling, immoral scandal raises serious political questions, not only for Finland, but for us all across the globe. If women must be politicians and national leaders, where are the respectable, upright, joyless, sexless prime ministers such as Margaret Thatcher, Angela Merkel, and Golda Meir? They didn’t party. They didn’t dance. And they certainly didn’t pose for an official photoshoot in just a pantsuit and jacket, no bra, with a neckline that goes down to the navel!
Do you see cleavage on Sanna Marin?
Ever since the United States Food and Drug Administration approved contraceptive pills, or “the Pill,” in 1960, it would seem that women were given license to enjoy sex without consequences, that is, to be licentious. Historically, for millennia, that right was the exclusive province of men. And so, in the face of such unabashed enjoyment by the female sex – that has had many other culture-controverting effects such as women in the workplace, in the armed forces, and even in politics! – it is entirely appropriate to censure Sanna Marin for her public display of enjoyment, even if she was enjoying in private.
Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin visits the Rogue’s Gallery, before a portrait of the author, HH.
Women enjoy dancing, singing, and displaying their breasts has the desultory implication that they may also enjoy sex. This cannot be! Such heresy to the patriarchal hierarchy that has existed since the dawn of civilization must be excoriated from our society. To that end, we are beginning to see the pendulum shift in the other direction. In America, the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization has put an end to the formerly constitutionally protected right for a woman to obtain an abortion. There are many new laws that have either been passed or at least proposed to make it illegal to purchase, sell, or mail contraceptives and/or “abortion pills.” A few states are making it illegal for parents of so-called “transgender” youth to seek gender reassignment surgery and/or for doctors to perform it. States such as Texas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Tennessee, Utah, and Florida have passed or proposed laws censoring books deemed “sexually explicit,” “obscene materials,” “sensitive materials,” and “pornography.”
To this end, America should reinstate the Comstock Act, criminalizing using the U.S. Postal Service to mail any obscenity, contraceptives, abortifacients, or sex toys and authorizes the postal service to confiscate birth control sold through the mail. That will teach women that sex is not something to be enjoyed!
Is it really surprising that Sanna Marin has exhibit such behavior? After all, she is a woman who is the product of divorce and was raised by two women in a loving relationship. Perhaps it is due to this lesbian influence that Marin was recently spotted at a preview for the scandalous art exhibit, the Rogue’s Gallery, featuring the notorious nymphomaniac and porno-star, Lola Down. If ever a woman took pleasure, delight, and enjoyment in the act of sex – whether between her and a man, her and many men, her and a woman, her and many women, her and women and men, or with herself (most often) – it is Lola Down. The whole exhibit should be shut down and confiscated as deplorable depictions of degenerate art! Most damning of all, Sanna Marin is reputed to have said about the Rogue’s Gallery that it was “stimulating to both mind and body.”
Need I say more?
Prime Minister of Finland visits a preview of the Rogue’s Gallery and admires the paintings and drawings depicting Lola Down
Anti-Lola protester
Pro-Lo supporter of sex for women
Hind Hunting
“Daddy, have me.”
“Get naked.”
“I’m naked, Daddy. Have me.”
“Come here.”
She nuzzles up to me, putting her head and soft hair on my shoulder. Her right hand reaches down for my hard cock. She moves her head down toward it. She opens her mouth and takes it in – wet, warm, soft, and loving.
She maneuvers to climb on top of me, straddle me, ride me.
“Hey, what’s the hurry?”
“I want it.”
“We got all night.”
“I want it in me, now.”
“Can’t we enjoy each other first? A little stroll through the Garden of Good and Evil before going in for the kill?”
“Daddy,” she says as she lowers herself on my rod, “it needs it. My pussy needs it. My cunt needs to be filled. I’m sorry. Play with my titties,” she says as she bounces up and down.
I reach up and grab her breasts with both hands.
“Pull my nipples.”
I pull on them.
“Pinch them. Pull them harder. Make it hurt.”
I do as I am told.
“Pull them. Really pull them. Pull them down. Make them sag. Pull my nipples to my navel.”
I do as she says. She moans a moan of pain and delight.
“Fuck, I’m cumming,” she says after mere seconds.
“Lo, what were you looking at on your computer before coming to bed?”
She bites her bottom lip. She’s not able to reply. Her pussy squeezes me out and squirts like an overripe peach on the first bite.
Her fingers clutch my shoulders. She lifts up her ass in the air. She slides down my torso with her tongue out, licking up all she spilled on me in her exuberance.
She gets to my navel. She pauses. She falls asleep.
I push her gently onto the bed, sliding her off my still rock-hard cock.
“Lo,” I say, quietly, “Lo, I want you.”
From her dreamlike state she says, “Do whatever you want.” She’s off to Never-Never Land.
I pull out a German porno mag from my nightstand drawer. I open it up on her ass. I compare her to Gili Sky, the porn star of the magazine’s centerfold. I prefer Lola. But the juxtaposition is nice. I know Lola would prefer Gili and the three men Gili is with as well.
I try to jack it to the photos and Lo’s ass. Lo’s ass looks too good to pass up. I rub some lube on the tip and her target, take aim, and swoosh! Direct hit.
Driving home the happy hunter, I lie down on her back and open the magazine and begin leafing through the pages, reading what I can in German. It’s been a while. Lo is motionless, soundless. The lack of her longing for my donging diminishes my fervor. I pull out. As I do so, she says, almost from the depths of her depraved dream, “Al wanted some new photos. Take some of me, Daddy.”
I’ve never seen a woman so eager for the camera and yet, so very very relaxed in front of it.
Lola and Gili Sky
I replace the book on her rear and snap a few for her long-distance lover. Now I know what she was doing before coming to bed in a feeding frenzy.
Gili Sky Front, Lola Rear
The next day she wakes up chipper as can be.
“Sleep well, Darling?” I ask.
“Great! You?”
“I wish I could say I slept hard. But it’s more like I hardly slept because I was hard.”
“Awww, poor baby. Didn’t you have me?”
“It’s not worth going into,” I say. “You’ll read all about it anyway.”
“I hope so!”
“What’s for breakfast?” she asks, pulling at her nipples over the thin t-shirt she’s wearing. “Wow! My nips really hurt! Kiss them better, Daddy.”
Lo in Lace
She lifts up her shirt and forces her breasts in my face. I give them gentle kisses.
“Mmmmm,” she moans. “Can I have you for breakfast?”
She drops to her knees in the middle of the kitchen, pulls down my pajama bottoms, and goes to town on my torpedo.
After she slurps down her morning smoothy, she gets up, wipes her mouth, and says, “Looks like a no pants, no panties, pussy party day at work for me!”
Protected: Putting the Fun Back in “Fundamentalism” – Part II: Satan’s Scrivener
Protected: Putting the “Fun” back in “Fundamentalism”: Part 1, Sex Sounds Good
Protected: Trivia: Life On-Line
Sexy Hotwife, Pornstar, MILF Sara Anne Reads Match, Cinder & Spark
Sara Anne
Who is this sexy reader, you ask.
This is Sara Anne – hotwife, amateur porn star, MILF, and avid reader of Match, Cinder & Spark.
Wait! Correction! Sara Anne has actually now made the transition to professional porn star!
Sara Anne
This cute country girl, mom of two, hotwife of 17 years, has turned her fun – fucking other men – into a side hustle and now is going pro! She just did her first professional porno shoot and is looking forward to doing more.
She’s also an avid reader, as you might be able to surmise from the library she has. (I know that you’re looking at the books in the photo below.)
Sara Anne Rides
She recently reached out to us and kindly requested a promo copy to add to her collection. We were happy to provide it!
Enjoy Sara Anne!
Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper
[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]
In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.
And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.
It was Sunday and it was hot! Hot and humid. There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets. Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before. Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting. I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.
All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.
Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.
Hot Lola on a hot night
I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.
Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.
“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”
“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.
“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”
“I need something to get me up.”
“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.
Would this get you up in the morning?
“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”
“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”
Suddenly we heard a knock.
“What was that?” I asked.
Lo shrugged her shoulders.
Another knock.
“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door. Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.
I opened the door a crack. A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.
“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom. I live across the way, over yonder.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.
“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard. I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great! We’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sure thing ma’am. Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”
I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.
“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”
“Yes. Why not, Daddy?”
“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”
She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.
“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”
After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house. There was a gate around the backyard.
“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.
“It’s the law,” I said. “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”
“Ah, I get it.”
We walked into the enclosed backyard. By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.
There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini. Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?
“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.
“Hi,” they almost grunted back.
“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked. “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”
One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.
“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked. They were in shorts and t-shirts.
“What?”
“Get naked,” she said plainly.
They did as she said. They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.
Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.
She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.
“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.
The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders. His cock was very close to Lo’s face.
During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool. No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”
When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.
“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”
“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.
“Jerk off! Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”
Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her. That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.
She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.
She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.
She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string. Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.
She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.
Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.
First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin. She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.
When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water. The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.
“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”
They all dove in right quick. They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.
“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool. “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.
“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.
“Suit yourself.”
“More than I can say your suiters have on!”
“Huh? Oh. Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.
After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink. They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo. Ain’t that a twist?
Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”
“Clothes? Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice. Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.
“You sure are.”
“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”
“You got that right,” said one of the guys. When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.
One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.
“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie. I’m good at goaltending.”
“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper. And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”
“No balls! Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”
“Call what – baseball bats?”
“Yeah!”
“Again, wrong sport.”
“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”
“Touché!” I called.
The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola. They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.
Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands. It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands. She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.
We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back. The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”
“Hey!” she called.
“What? You’re down.”
“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop? Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.
Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.
“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a penalty.”
“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.
Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.
“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.
“Gatekeeper? I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”
“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet. I’ve been gatekeeping.”
“You want praise for that? It’s COVID times. You know that.”
“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”
“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.
But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.
We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs. It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.
Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it. I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books. So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it? But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down. Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!
Anti-Lola
Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography. One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff. I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”
Pro-Lo
To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola. They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.
It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle. The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.
The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up! In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect. The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.
Lola on the News
“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window. “Oh shit!” she said.
“What?” asked one of the guys.
“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”
There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.
“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”
The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”
We filled him in. He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob. I was quite worried. All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.
“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.
Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club. It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.
He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.
“Sure,” she said.
“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day. I was just doing my job.”
“I understand.”
Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.
Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.
“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”
“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”
“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”
“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo. “Would you like to see?” She asked, looking over at the empty stage.
“My own personal show?”
“Yeah. Can you put on some music?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Got any Rihanna?”
“Anything you want.”
“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”
Hagrid put it on. As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me? What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.
“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.
“Thanks,” said Lo. “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”
“What happened?”
“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. We’d treat you right.”
“Oh yeah? How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.
Hagrid was unfazed. He works in a strip club.
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can’t get enough
Must be love on the brain.
The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat. Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.
“We treat the girls right. I can assure you of that.”
Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass. Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”
“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo. “My younger sister strips here.”
“What?! No way?”
“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.
“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.
“Why should she?” he asked, naively.
“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I see her naked and more at home.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”
“Really?”
“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”
“You both live with your parents?”
“No, we have an apartment together.”
“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”
“Yeah. Cheaper that way.”
“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”
“All the time. And women.”
“In her room?”
“In her room, with the door open. In the living room. In the kitchen. It doesn’t really matter to her.”
“I’ve got to meet this woman!”
“You already have.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”
“She’s your sister?!”
“Yep.”
Hagrid looked at his phone.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.
“How’s that?”
“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”
“What?! We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man. Double standard? You better believe it.
Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.
Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.
“You!” said the little sister.
“You!” said Lo right back at her. It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp. Who is who? Does it matter?
Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.
Luna Lovegood/Evanna Lynch
The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me. He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.
“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.
“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt. “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”
Evanna Lynch
“Whatever,” said Hagrid.
Evanna Lynch
The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment. It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room. The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly. The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch. The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it. There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.
On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.
“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.
“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna. “He’s a grown man.”
“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.
I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.
“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”
“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.
“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.
“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.
“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here. They know her. They know all about her. To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”
“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig. Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.
“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class. You’re from the city. You’re not from around here.”
“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom. “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”
“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”
“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”
“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.
I played dumb. Lo spread her legs. Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.
She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”
“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.
“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”
“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.
“You can have it,” continued Luna. “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.
“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.
“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.
Luna put out her hand. “A hundred.”
“What?!”
“It will cost you. One Benjamin.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”
“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.
“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”
“I don’t have a hundred.”
“What do you have?”
He pulled out his wallet. He opened it. He looked in. “A twenty.”
Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened. “It’s a deal.”
Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.
Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen. The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.
“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.
“Sure,” I said.
“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.
Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”
“Perfect,” said Lo.
As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations. The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.
“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.
“Pretty much every night she dances.”
“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”
Hagrid laughed a little. “You saw how little she weighs. She barely pulls that weight. All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka. “And drugs.”
“That’s too bad.”
Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early. It’s out of his control.
“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.
“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple. Lo here, she’s. . .”
“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.
“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.
“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.
“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake. The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.
“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat. “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.” It was hot in that shack. No AC.
“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.
Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.
Luna downed it in one gulp. “More,” she said. Was she talking to Lo or Tom?
Lo filled up the glass again.
“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.
She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.
“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo. Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.
“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.
“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.
Luna just gave him her middle finger.
“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder. It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.
“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her. “It’s still in you.”
“Forget the condom. Fuck my ass.”
“I don’t have another one.”
“FUCK. MY. ASS.”
The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.
“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.
“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”
“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”
“ATV or. . . ?”
“We’ll take my pickup truck.”
“Wait!” said Luna. “I want to go with you.”
The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.
“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.
“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.
“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.
“Because, I want to go.”
“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”
Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.
Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.
“Works every time,” said Luna.
“What does?” asked Lo.
“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”
Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth. I couldn’t help but think, “Wow! What a Lola move!”
When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.
Why were all of us in the back seat? Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.
Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap. Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.
“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.
“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.
“Fuck you!” said Luna.
Luna spread her legs. Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass. Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them. She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself. But then she pulled out her hand.
“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom. She tossed it out the window with a laugh.
We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.
“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.
“No problem. Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.
“Will do!”
“Thanks! Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.
“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits. “Stay slutty!”
“You know I will!”
Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.
The End
Lola Down – Cover Girl
Smalltown Strumpet – Flaming Lips
Smalltown Strumpet – Part III: Flaming Lips
Continued From: The Doctor Will See You Now
The Flaming Lips
Lo was out of commission. There would be no sexy suntanning in the front yard, no strip club short-short shenanigans, no teasing the townies down Main Street. She spent much of her time submerged in the clawfoot tub or strutting bottomless around the house, airing out her nettle-enflamed pussy. She had to sit on pillows and masturbating was now out of the question. This put her in a very unpleasant mood.
Though I wished to attend to her, I needed to get out of the house, lest I bear the brunt of her frustration with her cunt.
I had been working on an article about bestiality portrayed in art and literature through the centuries and thought I’d mosey down to the local library to continue my studies.
Lo had taken a couple of Tylenol PM and was resting comfortably when I slipped out with my computer and backpack. I figured I had a couple of hours to myself.
The library was a very small brick building. There were two rooms and a small anteroom at the entrance that contained the check-out desk, a couple of computers, and a display table for new books.
I set up in a small corner of the library, sitting in a large, square, worn brown leather club chair that looked like it was at least as old as I am. It was remarkably comfortable and the arms were flat, so they were perfect for resting my books and computer around me conveniently.
I began by looking at a blog from Remittance Girl on “Defending the Indefensible: Bestiality in Erotica.” It was a great place to start my research. She had written the article in response to censorship of erotica authors by PayPal – an infringement of speech that this very author had suffered by that very company! They should call it PrudePal.
In her article she referenced one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, and his defense of Chris Handley, among others who have been prosecuted for the material they read, write, draw, collect, sell, or possess.
This led me down a rabbit hole into a morass of law, liberty, and lurid content. Thank goodness my chair had its back against the wall because if any local busybody were to see the ‘scholarly studies’ I was researching, there’s no telling what would happen.
Actually, there is a telling what would happen and if you have a moment, I will inform you as to the tempest in a teapot that an oversight by me stirred up in that little hamlet.
I was deep into my investigation of Greek portrayals of bestiality and had about ten different books from the library surrounding my chair when I received a text from Lola. “Where are you, Daddy?”
I guess I won’t be able to start my deep dive into Hokusai and the Japanese tradition of erotic images. I packed up my stuff hastily, leaving behind the library books in their sprawling spread of towers on the armchair.
Perhaps another time I will get back to you with my developed thoughts on the matter.
I drove back to the house where we were staying, to find Lo fully naked and fully submerged in the tub. She looked up at me and said, “I’m wet, and not just because I’m taking a bath.”
“Feeling better?”
“Much,” she said. “But you left me, Daddy!” She pouted.
“I’m sorry Lo, but. . .”
“Shut up and get naked.”
“I’m not going for a swim. There’s only room for one in there.”
“Who said anything about that?” she asked as she put her mouth on the edge of the tub and opened wide. She looked up at me. “Insert your cock. I’ll be your cumdump.”
I did as instructed. She sucked. I fucked (her face). Water splashed around. She contorted in the tub, eventually getting to a position where her legs were going straight up the wall in a “V” formation, her head was tilted back over the opposite side of the tub, and she was squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples as I fucked her face. With every thrust into her mouth and down her throat, my heavy ball sack was slapping up against her upside-down face, smacking her squarely in the eyes and on the bridge of her nose. She liked it.
Lo, cooling down her flaming lips
Somehow the plug came undone and the water drained out of the tub. Lo moved her hands from her tits to her pussy. She began smacking it hard and then even harder. She slapped her pussy like a mother spanking a very naughty child, with force and anger, until she finally squirted all over the wall of the bathroom. The naughty child crying from the pain, perhaps. Seeing that, I couldn’t control myself any longer and I came directly into Lo’s esophagus. She gagged and nearly puked in the tub from the odd position of the climax.
I was dreading another trip to the hospital!
She jumped out of the tub, coughing and sputtering like she had been tossed at sea. Cum was oozing out of her nostrils and she was struggling to catch her breath. When she finally did, she said something I didn’t quite catch.
“What?” I asked.
“That was awesome,” she repeated.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“This stinging sensation in my pussy lips really makes for an incredible orgasm.”
“You should sit in poison nettles more often.”
“I think I might be able to have sex now, Daddy.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but my pussy is still burning. Do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Grab a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and meet me in the bedroom.”
I did as she asked, wondering how I was going to get hard again in order to give her what she wanted.
I met her in the bedroom and she was lying on her back.
“Take an ice cube and trace it around my labia,” she said.
I gently applied the cold, slippery, dripping ice to her pussy lips. She loved it.
“Slip it in.”
I inserted it.
“Another,” she said.
I did the same thing a second time.
“Again,” she said.
And a third time.
This continued until there were more ice cubes in her pussy than in a tall glass of lemonade.
“Now fuck me.”
At this point, the eroticism of what I had been doing had me rigid. Timidly I inserted the tip of my penis just a bit into her ice-packed pussy.
It felt cold. Freezing, to be exact. But not unpleasant.
“Fuck me!”
She likes to go from zero to balls-deep in under a minute.
I slide my rod all the way into her snow cone. There was a curious mixing of hot and cold and wet, since all the ice cubes were melting pretty rapidly inside her.
We had hardly started to stir her dirty Shirley when she said, “Go get more ice.”
I pulled out, feeling a chill on my thermometer, and got another tray of ice.
I inserted my manhood to her ice bucket and as I fucked her, the friction creating heat and melting her internal coolant, she reached over and took fresh ice cubes and, one-by-one, slipped them into her slit over the shaft of my cock. The tightness, the alternating hot and cold, the slip-sliding of the cubes inside her pussy, was unlike anything I had ever felt.
“Should I put a few in my ass?” she whispered.
I couldn’t answer and before I knew it, she was spreading her ass cheeks with one hand and putting the cubes in with the other.
“Do you want my ass, Daddy?”
I did. I did, so bad.
I pulled out and slid my hot and cold compress into her smaller icebox and within mere seconds I melted her heart with the heat of my love.
I pulled out and all the white, watery liquid spilled out of both holes as she stood up to go to the bathroom. It quickly dribbled down her inner thighs to her feet and puddled on the hardwood floor, leaving a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom. I suddenly heard a loud rattle. Her remaining ice cubes slipped out and crackled on the tile floor.
“Whoops!” I heard her call.
When she returned, she got on her knees beside the bed and looked up at me.
“Did you like that Daddy?”
“Very much, Lo,” I said.
She licked my balls and continued up my cock and then took the tip of my flaccid shaft into her mouth. “Can I be your cock-warmer, Daddy?” she asked before taking the entire length of it in her mouth and resting her head gently on my inner thigh.
[To be continued. . .]
Lo’s cockwarmer