Category Archives: skirt
Compersion Perversion
[As published in the October issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, Lola goes on a date with MILF Meri.]
It was a Thursday. I was at the office. All alone again. During this pandemic and sweltering heatwaves of the summer, working from the office alone actually provided both cool central air (as opposed to our poorly air conditioned apartment) and much valued quiet, alone time, conducive to creativity and, if necessary, work. Ms. Gale was working from home. My other employees were working remotely as well. I was under the impression that Lo, too, was working from home. That is, until I received an email from her.
It’s unusual for me to get an email from Lo. Text, phone call, even the unexpected in-person appearance for a booty-call are all to be expected. But rarely an email. Unless something is wrong, or the landlady has written to her demanding the rent, asking for a favor, or passing along complaints from the neighbors about the volume levels, frequency, and inconvenient late hours of Lo’s orgasmic operatic arias.
But this email was different.
“Guess where I am,” it read, enigmatically.
“At home, doing work,” I replied, unimaginatively.
“Nope.”
“Is this Twenty Questions, or can I just ask, where are you?”
“I’m in the park.”
It was another sunny, hot as hell day in the city.
“OK.” I wrote back.
“I have my computer. I’m ‘working remotely’ from here. That’s why I’m using my email.”
“Why do you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes?”
“Guess who I’m with.”
“Bill Murray.”
“No silly! Meri!!!”
“Oh, that’s why you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes.”
“Yeah. She wrote to me this morning and said that she told her husband she can’t take being cooped up in the house with the kids any longer. She’s going to the park to get away and work. But she had invited me and so we’re both here, pretending to work, but doing a lot more suntanning than working.”
“Which park?” I asked.
“Guess.”
“Lo,” I wrote, in the tone of voice I take with her when she’s being naughty, “I actually have work to do.” These multiple, terse emails were not conducive to getting anything done.
“Fine,” she replied, “the park next to your office.”
My office faces out onto the street, but my employee’s office, in the back of the building, looks out onto a small oval park in the midst of the other businesses.
“Do you want to come by the window and see what I’m wearing, or not wearing?”
How could I resist?
I walked across the reception room area where Ms. Gale has her desk, into the back office. I glanced out the window and sure enough I saw my little Lo, ass up, her computer in front of her, her admirer behind her, seated about ten feet away. There were streets hemming in the small sward, but full sun upon my nymph and her MILF.
Allow me to paint the scene for you. Unlike the last time these two met in the park, this time Lo came prepared to bask in the sun. She was lying on her tum, her legs bent at the knee and her feet dangling in the air. She had her computer in front of her.
Behind her, sitting in a beach chair, was Meri, watching. She sat, ostensibly reading a book, but she was really just spying on Lo. The way the two of them were in relation to each other, it did not appear that they were together or knew one another. And I was spying on both of them. I don’t know if Lo or anyone could see me watching from above. If Lo noticed my presence, she made no sign of it.
Lo was wearing nothing but a very tiny bikini top and a pink thong bikini bottom. It literally was no more than a spaghetti strap covering basically none of her ass. I was familiar with it because she had bought it on sale last fall and was so eager to wear it that she tried it on for me at home, pretending to be on the beach showing off. A fun little game for both of us!
It wrapped around from her crotch and, when placed just so, concealed only the bare essentials of her letter ‘i’ – if you know what I mean. From a distance, it looked as if she was wearing nothing at all on the bottom. And I was not the only one to think that. Sitting around the two of them on the shaded park benches were old ladies and moms with strollers and the occasional businessman out for air or a stolen glance of Lo’s delectable derrière. I could tell that the lecherous men interspersed with a few lascivious women were all trying their utmost best to give the appearance of doing something, anything else besides what they were doing – watching Lo. It takes one to know one, I thought.
Lo was keenly aware of her audience, but she was performing for only one. Meri, for her part, sat slightly askew to Lo. She wore heels, a pink skirt that stopped just short of her knees, and a grey tank-top that accentuated her large breasts, revealing lots of cleavage and that she was wearing no bra. She wore a baseball cap and dark sunglasses in addition to her mask, as if she were a movie star trying to stay incognito.
Lo’s performance was exquisite. Every once in a while she would reach back behind her and ‘adjust’ her bikini bottom, as if it was riding up her ass uncomfortably. She would pull at it so nothing was concealed, at least not to Meri, and then let it go again with an audible snap. Occasionally she would put sunscreen in her hand and run her index finger from her pussy over her balloon knot, as if to insure that those delicate parts wouldn’t burn.
From my vantagepoint, I couldn’t help but think that the sun shines from 94 million miles away for one reason only: to illuminate, warm, and tan Lo’s perfectly spherical double-orbed bronzed rear. It was as if Helios himself was looking down intently upon Lo’s sexy little ass and the oppressive, powerful rays of light were his enormous erection aching to feel the pleasure of that posterior, but burning hotter because infinitely frustrated by the impossibility of a non-material substance’s concupiscence being quenched by the corporeal object of its affection.
Lo pretended to be oblivious to it all, typing away on her computer as if deeply engrossed by her work emails.
Even in my airconditioned office, I was growing warm from the sight. Since no one is allowed to come to my office due to the pandemic, I don’t even bother putting on a suit anymore. It’s strictly t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops for me this summer. That’s not my office attire, that’s my everything attire.
I also was growing hard in my khaki shorts. Seeing Lo nearly nude in the middle of the pedestrian and otherwise non-nude plaza, literally the center of attention in the circle of voyeurs, and me, up there, voyeuristically observing from on high, with who-knows-how-many-others lurking in the windows, was appealing to my compersion perversion.
Just when I thought the scene could not get any better, an older gentleman (I use the term loosely) wearing slacks and a button-down sky-blue casual long-sleeve shirt walked over the green grass directly towards Lo. He squatted down to talk to her. She turned her head toward him and then rolled over on her back, propping herself up with her elbows. Then, for the first time I saw that she had on the bikini top with adjustable cups and she had adjusted them to a very narrow setting, exposing most of her breasts, her side-boobs bulging out.
She looked up at the man and struck up a conversation with him. I could see practically her entire chest falling out from where I sat and I’m sure that that man had a close-up view of it. I could see Lo smiling at him in her flirtatious way as he continued to engage her in whatever small talk they were pursuing.
I’m sure this gave Lo the triple pleasure of teasing the man while simultaneously making Meri jealous and me mad with admiration of her hotwife hospitality. I could see Lo glance from her interlocutor to Meri, making sure that the latter was catching it all. And I could see Meri watching with great interest.
As Lo continued to talk to the man, she seemingly absentmindedly spread her legs, revealing the tiny triangle of material covering her smooth mons pubis, and she thoughtlessly placed her hand down there as if adjusting the bathing suit or scratching an itch. This allowed Meri a direct line of sight into Lo’s labial lodestar.
I guess Lo’s male conversationalist eventually ran out of things to say. I saw him pass Lo something that looked like a business card and then say his adieu. He walked away and I saw Lo smile like the scapegrace she is at Meri and Meri smiled back. They were like two schoolgirls pulling one over the teacher.
Lo reached down between her legs and quickly pulled back the bikini bottoms for Meri to get an unobstructed view for a brief moment of bliss. In return, Meri spread her legs and, though I couldn’t see it, flashed Lo a glimpse of her crotch, unadorned by any panties. (I did later confirm this with Lo.)
From my perch I could comfortably enjoy all of the sexual psychological angles: between Lo and Meri; the older women on the periphery and Lo; the younger women on the sidelines and Lo, the men and Lo; as well as Lo’s basking in the attention of all of them just as she basked in the bright sunlight as if it were her spotlight on the stage.
The psycho-sexual dynamics had me rock hard in my shorts and just as I was contemplating relieving the tension, I heard the faint sound of keys and then the turning of the lock on the office door. Before I could scramble to see who was there (especially when no one was supposed to be there), in walked Ms. Gale wearing denim shorts and a gingham button down shirt, tied up in the middle to reveal her midriff. It covered only her shoulders and breasts, though it was unbuttoned enough to reveal much cleavage.
“Ms. Gale?” I almost shouted in shock.
“Mr. H?!” she shot back.
I was keenly aware that I had a huge erection in my shorts and that Lo and her special lady friend were frolicking outside the window by which I sat.
“Why are you here?” we both asked simultaneously.
“This is my office,” I said, authoritatively. Though, actually, I wasn’t in my office.
“I thought you put on the calendar that you were on vacation this week.”
“Oh, I had, that’s true,” I said, “but COVID put an end to our travel plans. So, here I am. And you?”
“It was too hot in my apartment to work. I only have one window unit and with the temperatures in the hundreds, it doesn’t get much colder than about eighty-seven. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I thought that, since you were away, I’d work in the office and utilize the central air.”
“I see,” I said, still too hard to stand up.
“Why aren’t you in your office?” she asked.
“Well, I, uh,” I stumbled for a plausible answer. “I got bored of the view,” I said.
“Oh, is the view from that window better? I thought it just looked out onto the park,” she said as she moved toward the window to look out. I desperately didn’t want her to do that!
She did and we both looked outside. To my great surprise, there was no sign of Lo and Meri!!!
“It’s just a different view,” I said casually.
She looked out the window, bending over, displaying her round rear to me in the tight shorts.
“You like the view?” she asked, enigmatically.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I rarely see it like this,” I said, looking at her ass.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said. “You should take more time to smell the roses. You’re always working,” she added as she returned to standing in front of me. Little does she know that more often than not, when she thinks I’m assiduously working on a legal brief, I’m actually writing this torrid encomium to Lola.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said like a judge. “But for now, I’ll let you have the office to yourself. You know, we must be socially distant.” I said it as if I were explaining to her that we need to be sexually distant.
“You don’t have to go,” she said. “I mean, you could just work in a separate office. I don’t mean to push you out.”
I was eager to catch up with Lola.
I put away the files I had been working on before Lo’s email and headed toward where I thought I’d find Lo and Meri. Five minutes into my walk, I was already drenched in sweat. I felt like I was suffocating due to the high temperatures and humidity. Making matters worse, I had to wear that asphyxiating mask! But I was determined.
I walked up the busy street from my office and was about to despair of my loss, but then I spied the two women sitting in front of the ice cream shop. They each were seductively eating their treats from cups. I took a seat not too far away from my nymph. I didn’t worry about being discovered. I had on dark sunglasses and my bandana mask. Very little of my face could be seen and, as an added benefit, Meri had never met me. To the best of my knowledge, she had no idea what I looked like.
The two of them were engrossed in conversation. I watched for as long as I could, but the sun was baking me. Eventually, convinced that I wasn’t missing anything of great import, I decided to return home, take a cool shower, and await Lo’s return.
I was on the couch in the living room when I heard the front door abruptly open and close. I heard Lo scamper down the hall to the bedroom and master bath. She too hopped in the shower first thing, but not to engage in the usual self-pleasure that she frequently enjoys in there. No, it was a quick rinse and then, from the living room I heard her masturbatory moans.
I quietly walked down the hall. The AC was on in the bedroom and so Lo didn’t hear me. I slowly opened the bedroom door and couldn’t believe my eyes! Instead of pounding her pussy with a dildo of enormous magnitude, she was sliding my Stoya Fleshlight up and down her lower lips, pressing Stoya’s labia into her own, dripping her wetness all over the prosthetic pussy. Her eyes were closed and with her free hand she was plucking her nipples.
“Lo,” I said in a gentle tone.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” she screamed as she jumped a mile. “What the hell are you doing home?!” It was almost an accusation.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” I said before explaining the surprise visit by Ms. Gale and then asking her, “What the hell are you doing with my Fleshlight?”
“I hate the COVID bullshit!” she lamented. “I want a pussy. I want Meri’s pussy. I want to fuck someone who is not you. No offence,” she said after realizing what she had said. “I just want. . .”
“No offence taken,” I said sarcastically. “How could that possibly be offensive?”
“You know what I mean. Of course I want to fuck you too, but I also want to be able to fuck others as well.”
“You have,” I reminded her. “The brothers. Remember?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, putting Stoya back on her cunt. “That’s for them, not for me. They’re young men, full of testosterone and they need my sweet release, especially in this pandemic. I spread my legs, they slip in my honeypot and unload. That’s all for them.”
“Oh, you get nothing out of it?” I asked sarcastically. “You’re just a simple orgasm donor?”
She laughed, “I get something out of it. I mean, I cum, yes. And it pleases me to be their goto girl, their flesh-and-blood Fleshlight. I won’t deny, that turns me on. I like being their easy access. Their cum dump. The thought of guys’ balls aching for my cunt and unloading into me because I can provide for them what they so desperately need is an incredible turn-on. But I want a woman. I want someone who will take time to pleasure me, give me what I want, know what I want. Not just ram it in deep and hard to prove how big and strong they are. I want Meri.”
She returned to sliding and pressing the Fleshlight’s lithe labia up against her own swollen and supple lips, causing a suction sound as her own secretions lubricated the point of contact. She reached down with her free hand and began circling her clit with her index finger. She did all this as if I wasn’t even there. Oblivious to me and all else but her imagination and the feel of her pussy slip-sliding against another pussy, she was soon squirting a stream of climactic juices directly into the parted prosthetic pussy. The receptacle, upside down, simply dribbled out the contents back onto and into Lo’s already soaked and dilated source.
She took a few deep breaths. I stood silently awaiting her command, request, or even insinuation to fill her with my meat. But, instead she reached for her phone. She made a call and said, “Hi. Yeah. Another leak. Can you come over and fix it right away?”
She turned to me and asked, “Will you let them in?”
“Who?”
Then the doorbell rang.
I walked down the hall and admitted the two brothers. It was the same uncomfortable silence between us as it had been before. Merely sheepish grins and a little nod of the head as they walked toward their destination. They no longer needed to be shown the way.
They walked into the bedroom, saw Lola splayed out on the bed naked, Fleshlight beside her body, sheets soaked, and they immediately dropped their pants. They didn’t even bother to take off their shoes or their shirts. Kids these days.
“Fill me, fuck me, pump me, pound me, use me, abuse me, whip me, worship me,” said Lo, spreading her legs further, bending her knees and slapping her cum-slathered pussy.
One of the boys pulled her to the edge of the bed and penetrated her. She briefly looked up at me, her head upside-down, from the bed, before her eyes rolled back. The boy was rock hard and eager. His brother stood by the bed watching, cock in hand, stroking, and patient. Within moments, the first reached his climax inside her.
Pulling out, he stepped aside for his brother to have his chance. Lo rolled over onto her hands and knees, raising her ass for him to have her. He easily slid into her soaking holes. I saw her wince just a little as he entered the tighter of the two. But soon he was alternating back-and-forth at whim. Now the other brother watched and, to my amazement, grew hard as he did so. What amazing recovery time!
After the more active brother drove his point home in Lo’s rear, he pulled out and they both watched as Lo oozed, cooed, and creamed.
Then the first returned to the pole position.
I could see that Lo, by this point, was almost bored. Her head was resting on her hands and she looked up at me, unconcerned about what was happening beyond her shoulders.
“Daddio,” she said, “will you pass me my phone?”
Her phone was on her nightstand on the other side of the bed, by the boys. I walked around the bed, past the brother who was slamming his shaft deep into my hotwife’s pussy at the time, past the other brother who was eagerly awaiting his chance for another deep dive in her, and grabbed the phone. I walked back around to the side of the bed by the door and passed it to Lo.
She pressed some buttons, preoccupied with the phone and not at all occupied with the activities behind her, and looked up at me again. “If I order a pizza, what would you like on it?” she asked in a quiet voice, as if the boys and her bum were in another room and she didn’t want to disturb them.
It seemed a most unusual question for the moment. I must have looked puzzled. “I’m hungry,” she added by way of explanation.
“Mushrooms and onions,” I said unthinkingly.
“Oh, hi,” Lo said into her phone. At the very same time, the first brother finished, ejaculating in long shots on Lo’s back. I guess Lo was put on hold briefly because she was quiet for a moment.
The second brother asked Lo, “Do you want more?” He was clearly confused by Lo’s phone call.
Lo turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Go ahead. You can have it. Try to be quick.”
I heard a voice from the phone ask, “Yes, can I help you?”
Lo’s attention was back to her pizza order as the boy behind her grabbed her hips and pulled them towards his erect phallus. “Yeah, could I get one sausage pizza and one with onions and mushrooms?”
The boy behind her returned to his favorite alternating ass/puss, ass/puss plunging. I could see him spreading her cheeks with both hands as he pulled out and pressed in.
“Medium,” said Lo into the phone and then looking up at me she asked, “Medium big enough for you?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, two mediums,” she said into the phone again. “OK. Yes. Delivery please. Great. Thank you.” She hung up and put the phone by her side.
Allowing her head to fall into the pillow, she reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart, allowing her paramour to use his hands in other ways. He reached under her and grabbed her doughy tum and squeezed.
“You going to cum?” Lo asked.
He grunted.
I guess she could feel him building. “Come on. You got two in you, don’t you? You like my ass? You like it,” she said. She moved her fingers to her ass and felt him sliding in and out of her. He was ready. She was giving him a hand-job as he entered and exited her posterior. Lo’s instincts kicked in and she turned abruptly and opened her mouth to receive his fill. He grabbed his cock with one hand and her head with the other, pulling her mouth onto his shaft. He began to cum and then pulled out of her mouth and sprayed the rest on her face. She was drenched.
She looked up at him and asked, “Feeling better?”
The first brother already had his pants on. The second, who had just finished, reached down to pull up his from around his ankles.
“Thanks Lo,” he said.
“Say hi to your mom,” Lo said.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he replied.
They let themselves out.
Lo fell backwards and, lying on the bed, she looked up at me and asked, “Will you get the pizza and tip the delivery guy?”
“Maybe you should.”
She contemplated that idea. “Like I am?”
“Exactly.”
When the bell rang, she walked to the door, dripping from the boys’ icing on her face and shoulders, and, opening the door, took the two pizzas in hand and gave a few dollars in tip.
I awaited her return in the dining room.
“What was his reaction?” I asked as she placed the pizzas on the table.
She laughed.
“What?” I asked.
“It was a woman.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“What was her reaction?”
“A cross between shock and disgust.”
“Too bad.”
“Why?”
“I thought you were going for shock, awe, and arousal.”
“I’ll take disgust.”
She grabbed a slice of pizza. No plate. She didn’t even sit down. She stood by the table, naked, and ate it with fervor. “Sorry, Daddy,” she said, mouth full.
“Sorry for what?”
“What I said before. You understand, though, don’t you?”
“Yes Lo,” I said, sincerely, not sarcastically. I felt love, compassion, and patience. “But,” I added, “you need to clean up Stoya and the sheets.”
“I will,” she said, obediently.
I had a slice of pizza and cracked open a beer.
“Is there a reason you had the boys rather than me?” I finally asked.
“Yes,” she said, with no explanation. She continued eating.
“Care to enlighten me?”
“I like to be used.”
“You didn’t even cum.”
“No, because I wanted Meri. But, I’ll cum later to the thought of them and this afternoon.”
“With me or without me?”
“If you’re lucky, both.”
After dinner, she strutted to the bedroom to clean up. I followed.
“What a mess!” she said at the sight. “Isn’t it wonderful?!” She dove into the bed. “It smells like sex.”
“Just like you,” I said sarcastically.
When she got up to strip (the bed that is, since she already was naked as the day she was born) I asked her, “Who was that man talking to you in the park?”
“Oh, him?”
“Yeah, him.”
“Just a creep. He just wanted a closer look at me.”
“You sure gave it to him.”
“You saw?” she asked, flattered that I took in her stunning act.
“Yes, I saw. What did he give you?”
“His business card.”
“What sort of business is he in?”
“He says he’s a photographer and he asked if I would be interested in any boudoir photography done of me.”
“Really? Where’s his card?”
She bent over by the side of the bed and dug through her little beach bag. “Here it is.”
She gave it to me.
“I see,” I said, reading it. “You going to take him up on it?”
“I don’t know. Do you want me to?”
“Let me think about it. Did you and Meri have a good time?”
“What do you think?”
“I think she’s at home doing exactly what you just did.”
“Eating pizza?”
Bleach Bum
Lo’s date with MILF Meri was Easter Sunday. By Lo’s account, both of them had a great time and were eager to make the magic happen again. But then, inexplicably, Meri ghosted Lo. No response to email, nothing.
“I think she might be having randy remorse,” said Lo one morning while we were pondering the odd disappearance.
“What the hell is ‘randy remorse’?”
“You know – she was all randy to have a lesbian encounter. She did it. It was hot. But she has a husband, three sons, a conventional, bougie, suburban, soccer-mom lifestyle to maintain. She can’t fuck that all up for a little labial action.”
“Don’t you think that that’s a tad narrow-minded?”
“Yes, I do.”
“I don’t mean her lack of follow-up. I mean your explanation.”
“What?”
“In this day and age, women aren’t as boxed in as you make it sound. I mean, a lot of couples are open to the wife playing around, especially with someone like you.”
“What does that mean, ‘someone like me’?”
“I just mean, younger, already in a relationship and therefore not clingy or a threat to the Stepford Wife, picture-perfect, wholesome family-Christmas-letter lifestyle.”
“So I’m just a Manic Pixie Dream Girl to her?”
“Precisely.”
“I think you’re making her situation out to be too simplistic. You have no idea what the family dynamics are, what pressures she may feel, or her reasons for dropping me.”
“And neither do you. So why should we keep speculating about it?”
We let it go and, other than Lo occasionally recounting her one sexcapade with MILF Meri while masturbating or copulating with me, she was all but forgotten.
Until one day during quarantine.
“Lo, I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you’re ok.”
That was it. A one sentence, no explanation, wellness-check email from Meri.
Lo wrote back and tactfully, without accusation or spite, inquired why it had been so long since she had last heard from Meri.
Instead of responding immediately, it was over a week before Lo received a terse email in return.
“It’s complicated,” was the enigmatic reply. “I’ll write more later.”
Again, another week elapsed before Lo got the following email:
Dear Lo,
I’m sorry I never followed up with you after we met last Easter. Believe me, you were on my mind constantly. However, I was feeling guilty about the circumstances of how we met. I know you thought I was just responding to your ad, but it’s more complicated than that. Can we meet in person to talk about it?
Meri
“Guilty about the circumstances of how we met?” said Lo to me, perplexed.
“Will you meet with her?”
“I have to.”
“What do you mean, you have to?”
“Don’t you want to know the answer to this mystery?”
“I suppose.”
The following weekend Lo dolled herself up. It felt like a uniquely special occasion since, during the COVID crisis, Lo hadn’t had much reason to dress the part. Indeed, as she chose and then dismissed various outfits, that’s exactly what it felt like – like she was an actress choosing the right outfit for a role. This day she was going for the ‘innocent little college student’ role. After many attempts at the right combination, she settled on a short skirt, no panties, a white knit sweater, no bra, and her cute little pumps. I realized, maybe not quite for the first time, that Lo enjoys the theatrics of her dates as much as the action.
“Good luck, Love,” I said as she was breezing out the door.
“Luck? I don’t need luck when I got this,” she said as she lifted the back of her skirt to reveal her bare ass.
“That’s true,” was all I could say as I etched the image on my brain. “Remember,” I called to her as she walked away, “social distancing!”
Later that day, Lo strolled up the street back toward our apartment as I sat outside reading a book and drinking a G&T in the front yard. I soaked in the way she perfected the picture before me as she sauntered on the sidewalk, the incarnation of summertime: bright, cheerful, without a care in the world, lackadaisical, unhurried, and delighting in being enjoyed by those she passed by.
She stopped before me. “Hi,” she said with a big grin on her face.
“Hi,” I repeated back to her.
“Want to fuck?” she said, getting to the point.
“Am I breathing?”
We went right into the bedroom. She bent over the bed, lifted up her skirt and I slid right into her wet and willing pussy.
It took a few thrusts before she was ready to recall for me her socially-distant-dalliance with MILF Meri, but I knew she’d come around after she had cum around two or three times.
I pulled out of her dripping hot hole and, still hard up, was lying on the bed, panting as I sweat, despite the AC blasting.
“You ok, ole man?”
“Don’t worry about me,” I said, “I’ve got lots more loving left in me. But let’s take a little break and you can tell me why, exactly, you’re so needy.”
“But Daddy,” she said, batting her eyelashes at me, “I’m always needy. I’m a nympho, remember?”
“Cut to the story, Lo. I can see you aching to regale me with your reverie.”
“OK,” she said. “Lie back and I’ll tell you.”
She was sitting naked on the bed next to me. Her legs were crossed under her and she gently stroked my wet, rigid manhood as she spoke.
“Close your eyes,” she instructed.
I obeyed.
I felt her lips ease down my shaft.
“Lo, you can’t tell me what happened with a mouthful of my cock.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said after pulling up and releasing me. “I just wanted a taste.”
“Of a woman?”
“Of me. Now listen with your eyes closed.”
She then told me the following:
We met at the park by the river. She was already there when I arrived. It was crowded. A lot of families, people picnicking, suntanning. You know. The usual for a gorgeous summer day during a global pandemic.
She was sitting on a little picnic blanket, clearly nervous, tense with anticipation about seeing me again.
When I got there, I unraveled my blanket too, took off my shoes, and sat a safe distance away from her, but within earshot.
I so wanted to kiss her on her full red lips and put my fingers through her full red hair. But I was good, Daddy.
I sat crisscross, like I am now, but with my skirt just covering my modesty. I didn’t wear a bra and so I’m sure she could make out my nipples through my sheer sweater. I know she could because every guy I passed on the walk to her was glaring at my chest. I enjoyed teasing her. In fact, I enjoyed the whole distance thing more than I thought. The torture of it all was exciting, I think, for both of us.
Anyhow, she had packed a little picnic basket, complete with a couple of bottles of chilled champagne and plastic glasses. She poured me one and, after a few pleasantries, she told me her story.
‘Lo, do you remember our first few email exchanges?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ I said, thinking nothing special had been in them.
‘Well, I wrote to you and you assumed that I was responding to your ad.’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘That’s just the thing,’ she said, pausing and thinking how to tell me the next part. ‘I didn’t even know you had an ad.’
‘How did you get my email? How did you hear about me?’
‘I feel terrible about this. I’m really sorry I led you on, or at least didn’t tell the truth right away. I really didn’t mean to lead you on at all.’
I was very confused and I’m sure she could see it on my face.
‘You see, it started with my husband.’
‘He saw the ad?’
‘No, he found your blog somehow. One night he left his computer on and fell asleep on the couch.’
‘Nothing good ever follows those words.’
‘I knew he had just jacked it.’
‘How did you know that?’
‘We’ve been married twenty-three years, Lo. I know when he’s jacked off.’
‘OK.’
‘So I was curious. I just wanted to see what was getting him off now. And, instead of the usual porn vids that he watches to relieve stress, I found your blog!’
‘Really?’
‘Yes! And I was fascinated by what I was reading. I think it was Bleach Bum or something like that.’
‘Oh, I know what you mean,’ I said, a little embarrassed because that’s the story where you talk about anal bleaching and you put up a very prominent photo of my perineum.
“I believe it was more a photo of your asshole.”
“Must you be so vulgar?”
“I believe it was a photo of your anus.”
“That’s not any better!”
“It was a photo of your posterior analytics.”
“That sounds better. But a little sterile.”
“It was a photo of your sweet, sweet. . .”
“Don’t you dare say sphincter!”
“How about your bottom’s belly-button?”
“Too confusing.”
“Can we please get back to your story?”
She continued:
She went on, ‘I wanted to read more, but I didn’t want Scott, that’s my husband, to know I was looking at his search history, so I logged out and signed into my account on the family’s desktop. I read and read and looked at the photos of you and, well, I felt sexually aroused like I hadn’t in a long time!’
‘I have that effect on people.’
‘Mmmm,’ she moaned, looking at me, a little fear in her eyes, ‘to be honest, it was a combination of you, your photos, and the writing.’
“HA!” I shouted.
“Oh, calm down.”
“The writing!”
“Do you want to hear my story so you can write about it or what?”
“Well, now that she knows about the blog, it’s sort of breaking the fourth wall, isn’t it?”
“I’ll leave the literary devices to you.”
Meri continued, ‘I couldn’t get enough and then I saw that you had your email right there on the blog. So I wrote to you.’
‘And I jumped to the conclusion that you must have read the ad.’
‘Yeah. I was a little confused at first. And then, to find out that we live in the same city, or at least pretty close to it!’
‘So that’s why you didn’t follow up with me for over a year? Because of that little misunderstanding?’
‘No, no,’ she said. ‘By the way, I read the story that H.H. wrote about our Easter encounter.’
‘Right, I guess you did. Sorry that he was such a spy.’
‘That’s ok,’ she said, laughing a little, ‘It shows how much he loves you.’
‘Or what a perv he is!’
She waived her hand like it didn’t matter. ‘He wrote that you liked it.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you? Did you really?’
‘Of course I did. Did you disappear because you thought I didn’t?’
‘No, that wasn’t it. I was eager to do it again – and more!’
‘So what happened?’
At this point, it was getting warm and both of us had had about two glasses of Champagne. I stretched out my legs and so did she. Our feet were touching at the end of our blankets. It was cute and quite erotic – just touching toes like that.
‘Um, well, uh,’ she stumbled, ‘it gets a little more complex. A little more confusing.’
‘What does?’
‘For a while both Scott and I were reading and getting off to your blog, but separately. He had no idea that I was reading it.’
‘OK. Don’t tell me he wants to fuck me too?’
‘Well, he probably does. That’s not the problem.’
I was so confused.
‘Lo, do you remember getting some fan mail a while ago?’
‘I get a lot of fan mail.’
‘Well, this was special. It had an illustration. It was from a mom. It was about a shared computer and. . .’
‘THAT was YOU?!’ I shot at Meri when the pieces fit together.
Meri’s face had turned almost as red as her hair. ‘Do you want to leave? Do you hate me? I’m so ashamed.’
At that moment, though she was much older, she seemed so scared, so vulnerable. I just rubbed her feet more with my feet and consoled her.
‘Was it just that one time?’ I asked after a long pause.
‘I wish I could say it was.’
‘You mean you. . . ?’
‘He likes me to help him. Other than you, it’s our secret.’
“Wait. Wait,” I said in disbelief. “You’re saying that Meri is the mom who wrote to us about finding the blog on her husband’s computer and fapping to it and then, later, when she was found out by her son, used it as ‘a teachable moment’?”
“One-and-the-same.”
“Oooooohhhhhh,” I said. “That explains a lot.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Why’d she send that email and not say that it was from her?”
“I think she was embarrassed, but she was trying to tell me why she was M.I.A.”
“A little coded message?”
“Yeah. Not the clearest communication.”
“Did she actually expect you to figure it out?”
“I don’t think so. It wasn’t even from the same email address as she had used before. I think she wanted to gauge my reaction to it. When you wrote about it without being judgmental, I think it gave her a little more courage.”
“Well what happened next?”
“We talked a little more, just catching up on the past year. I then lifted up my knees so that she could have a good, direct look at my smooth, gleaming pussy. Very discretely she extended her leg between my legs and tickled my pussy lips with her toe.”
“That doesn’t sound like you were six feet apart.”
“She has long legs. Anyhow, she was very turned on by it. She wanted to touch herself, but couldn’t out there in public. So we ended sort of abruptly. We wanted to see more of each other, but she also wanted to cum. I bet she touched herself in the car on the way home.”
“Lo, this is some fucked-up shit. Back when you were fooling around with Hunter, a married man, you were playing with fire. Now you’re playing with gasoline, tanks of oxygen, and matches.”
“I know, I know,” she said, actually distraught. “But she’s so fucking hot!”
“Heat is the last ingredient you need with gasoline, tanks of oxygen, and matches.”
“OK! I get it.”
“And what happens when they all read this entry of the blog together? KABOOM!”
“You just won’t write about it.”
“To hell I won’t!”
“Well, you won’t publish it until I get myself out of this mess.”
“Agreed. But you will get yourself out of it, won’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” she said, reluctantly.
“Cause if you don’t, this will get you in the ass and it will hurt more than that ‘Bleach Bum.’”
We both laughed at Meri’s misremembering the title of that blog post.
“Kiss it, Daddy,” she said, bending over. “Make me feel better.”
“You’re lucky I’m so madly in love with you Lo. You know that?”
“You like my bleach bum?”
“Like it? Love it! Want it,” I said as I pulled her close to me.
10 Yoga Poses
[We offer here a sneak peek at the article just released in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, September 2020 Issue. Here is ENM’s editor’s introduction to the story:
Hermann Humbert, writer for www.mysexlifewithlola.com and husband to beautiful hotwife Lola Down has been contributing stories about Lola’s exploits with us for months… this one may be the hottest one yet!!! You can read this story in its entirety right now in our September issue of ENM Magazine on Kindle, or we will publish it as a Patreon exclusive later this month.
Illustrations by H.H.]
Ten Yoga Poses
Dear Reader, you may recall that Roy and Gary are the young, twenty-something brothers from across the street with whom Lo has become acquainted back before COVID-19 shuttered us all in. She seems to enjoy toying with them the way one might with two adorable puppies. One day, not long ago, as things began reopening, she amused herself by going on a date with them to do some clothes shopping.
They went to a nearby mall and they followed her as she bounced from store to store trying on skirts, blouses, dresses, and shoes. She would make them wait close to the dressing room to render an opinion for her. Unless it was two thumbs up, or rather, four thumbs up and two cocks up, she didn’t make a purchase. This scratched two itches for Lo: 1) flirting in the flesh and; 2) shopping.
This little tease titillated her and the boys for hours.
She told me all about it, eager to arouse my jealousy, when I got home from work, but she was let down when she realized that I was quite pleased with her excursion because it saved me countless hours of waiting by the dressing room for her to toggle back and forth between her natural impulse to purchase and her attempt to avoid buyer’s remorse.
“I bet you’d like to see me toggling back and forth between Roy’s dick and Gary’s,” she said, latching onto that word which placed the naughty image in her dirty mind.
“If it makes you happy,” I said, appearing aloof and disinterested in her foolish frolics.
She stomped her foot out of frustration and beat her fists on my chest, playfully.
“You will change your tune!” she said.
“My tune? What will be my tune?”
“I Want You.”
“You do? I thought you wanted your two boy-toys.”
“No, silly. I Want You, by the Beatles. That will be your tune.”
“You know, the subtitle to that song is, ‘She’s so Heavy’”
She flipped me the bird and said, “Of course you would know that.”
“But I think you’re just right.”
“So do the boys,” she added. “Finally, a package deal: FOBO.”
“What is ‘FOBO’?”
“Fuck one, blow one.”
“I see. And here I thought you just liked the company while you shopped.”
“I do!” she said enthusiastically. “And I got this,” she said as she pranced around the room like an exotic dancer on stage.
“What?” I asked, befuddled.
“These,” she said, prancing around some more, her hands on her hips.
“Your hips?”
“No, silly. These jeans. They’re $250 jeans, but you’d never guess what I got them for.”
“You blew a kiss to the shop clerk.”
“No. Don’t be daft.”
“You blew the shop clerk.”
“If only. But he was clearly not into my type.”
“Slutty?”
“I’m offended.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I meant, horny with a young man on each arm.”
“No. He wasn’t into women at all.”
“I see.”
“Don’t you want to know what I got them for?”
“Who, the two young men?”
“No! The jeans.”
“Oh, right. What did you get them for?”
“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is what I’ll get out of them for.”
“What will you get out of them for?”
“The two brothers. They’re coming over.”
As she said that, there was a knock at the door. I answered it and let in Roy and Gary, not knowing who was who. Once they were in, Lo blurted out, “They say I need some caulk.”
“What?”
“Yeah, a lot of caulk.”
“Really?”
“Yes, to fill all the holes.”
“How’s that?”
“They just stick it in there and out it comes. Voila! There might be some overflow, but we can just wipe that up.”
“Sounds like you know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I’ve handled caulk before.”
“You have?”
“Oh yeah. Lot’s of times. I’m practically a pro with caulk.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. One hand. Even two!”
During this whole performance, the boys just stood around and looked on dumbly.
“Where’s the bathroom?” one of them asked.
“Right down the hall there,” I said, pointing to it.
“And the caulk?” asked the other.
“I thought you two brought your own,” I said.
“No, silly,” said Lo. She then went into our little tool drawer and pulled it out, along with a caulk gun, a box cutter, a sponge and a bucket.”
“Here you go,” she said to the other brother.
“Oh, caulk!” I said, with enthusiasm. “I thought you were talking about. . . ah, never mind.”
“Yeah, what did you think we were talking about?” asked Lo, as if she hadn’t meant to confuse me all along.
She led the second boy down the hall and showed him the seam where the tub meets the tile and how discolored it had become.
The two boys set to work while Lo went into the adjacent master bedroom and slipped out of her jeans. She wore only her thong and her blouse. They were unaware until she called into the bathroom and offered a cool drink. The boys looked up, dumbfounded.
“Uh, sure,” said one of them.
“Two lemonades ok?”
“Fine,” said the other, drawing out the vowel as if talking about Lo and not the lemonade.
Lo turned and went to the kitchen to grab the drinks for the boys.
“Don’t turn up the heat too much,” I said to her.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked like Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind.
She turned tail and walked away from me. I followed just to see what would happen next.
She went into the bathroom and bent over to the kneeling brothers and handed them the drinks. “Oh, that looks much better!” she said of their job. Truth be told, it was a hack job by two amateurs. That didn’t matter to Lola. That was strictly beside the point. All the more reason to invite a professional contractor in and give him an encore performance of her Emmy Award winning act.
The boys, clearly distraught at the difficulty of the task and the distraction of Lo, wiped the little sweat from their brows and drank the lemonade.
“Maybe now that you fixed that so quickly, you two could help me with something else,” she said. I was very curious what she had in mind, as were our two fix-it men.
Lo crawled across the bed, her ass cheeks seductively contorting like a proud lynx prancing before her prey. She got to the edge, her top half disappeared off the side of the bed, and then reemerged with her Hitachi. She looked over at the captivated cherubs and said, “I don’t know if the motor blew out or what, but I can’t seem to get it to turn on.”
The boys practically fumbled over each other trying to get to her. As they did, she cast me a knowing look. She had just used the masturbatory machine that morning.
One of the boys held it, flipping the switch on and off to no avail as the other inspected the wire. Both of them stood over Lo’s prostrate body on the bed. She smiled up at them.
“Did I overdo it?” she asked. If there was a portmanteau that combined ‘innocently’ with ‘guiltily,’ like the word frenemy, then that would be how she asked that question. And what a frenemy she was to me just then!
One of the boys flipped a switch on the power cord under the bed and the giant white ball began vibrating ferociously in the other’s hand.
“You did it!” squealed Lo.
“Yeah,” said the one who flipped the switch. “You must have tripped the circuit breaker on this,” he said, holding up the power cord and showing Lo the emergency shut off button (that I’m sure Lo purposely shut off for just this reason).
“Oh, I see,” she said. “Thanks!” She spread her legs wide, indicating where the vibrating ball of the Hitachi should go.
The one holding it eventually got the hint. He placed it between her legs, over her thong.
“Yeah,” said Lo lustily.
He let it rest there for a while. Lo rotated her hips to get the vibrations where she wanted them.
“Turn it on hi-power,” she instructed. He obeyed. Lo raised her hips and pulled down her bra. The other brother reached down and began pinching her nipples as Lo cupped her tits with her hands.
“Yeah,” she moaned again, “do that.” Lo slowly unbuttoned her blouse and then removed it to let him see and touch her breasts.
She looked up at the boys and asked, “You two have been under strict quarantine?”
“Yes,” replied one of them.
“No going out? No seeing anyone?” asked Lo.
“Yeah,” said the other, “not for the past two or three months.”
“No girlfriends?”
They both laughed a little. “Even if we had girlfriends, which we don’t, our mom would never let us see them. Not during this pandemic.”
Lo ran her tongue over her teeth as she looked up, her head very close to their bulging cocks. “So, you two haven’t been able to. . .” Before she finished her sentence, she grabbed the Hitachi and manipulated it to flip her switch and, without warning she was convulsing, cursing, and cumming with a wave of wetness flowing over her thong, soaking the bed covers. All the time, I watched in silence from the doorway.
The two guys gawked at Lo’s percolations.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she said to the two of them when she caught her breath.
Each of them looked over at me standing in the doorway, smirking just a little at Lo’s mode of flirtation.
She slid out of her soaked panties and asked, “Who’s first?” as she spread her legs wide and smacked her pussy.
One of the boys pulled down his pants and pulled out his cock. He was large and very hard.
Lo licked her lips at the sight of it. She turned on her tum.
- Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose
She rotated horizontal on the bed and got into the anahatasana, or melting heart pose, protruding her ass over the side of the bed prominently, while her arms were stretched out far in front of her head.
The boy whose pants were down – Roy or Gary? – slid in and Lo showed her appreciation with a long low moan. As he was sliding in and out of her, his brother dropped his pants around his ankles. He tapped out his brother and tapped into Lo with enthusiasm. Lo seemed to enjoy the change of length, girth, and rhythm. His brother stood next to him spreading Lo’s ass wide apart for his brother’s easy access.
Without warning, Lo’s body involuntarily squeezed him out – the first physiological sign that she’s about to have a violent squirting orgasm.
“You’re going to have to ride that pony better than that if you want to stay in the saddle,” I jibed, knowing full well how difficult it is to avoid slip-sliding out when her trap squeezes shut.
“Let me try,” said the other brother, thinking he’d have the superior technique. He slid right in after Lo’s sprinkle (which soaked all the clothes on the floor) had subsided.
- Bitilasana – Cow Pose
Lo propped her torso up on both arms and her back made a concave curve causing her ass to protrude upward. She used her arms to push backward to meet the boy’s thrusts. Bang, bang, bang he bounced off of her butt. Smack, smack, smack she slid down on his rod, her tits flailing forward and back with the rapid back-and-forth of her torso. I should mention that, unlike in the first position, when she had her head down, facing the bed, now she was looking directly at me as she took the shocks from behind. Our eyes were locked and she was feeding off of how much delight I took in her sexual prowess.
“Fuck me!” she commanded over her shoulder, as if he wasn’t giving it his all already. “Come on, can’t you do better than that?” She was just taunting him now. I knew very well that she wasn’t used to this sort of rough ride. The poor young fellow put so much force into it that I was worried he might pull a muscle in his back.
I saw Lo’s fingers curl up and clutch the bed sheets as if she were hanging on vertically to the bed, trying not to fall. I saw her toes curl and I knew what was about to happen.
Sure enough, she shot contestant #2 right out of her convulsing cunt just as forcefully as she ejected the first one, followed by a torrent of orgasmic flow.
The two brothers watched, amazed at the quantity and velocity of her ejaculation.
- Balasana – Child Pose
Lo curled up her knees under her and stretched her arms out far in front of her, tucking her head down between her arms as she caught her breath. The boys were polite enough to give her the time she needed to recuperate. They stood there, flanking her naked body, like silent sentinels at attention, their spears raised.
“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I instructed them, breaking my silence.
“What?”
“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I repeated.
The kid did what I said.
“Now, use that to rub around her asshole.”
“Daddy,” Lo objected. She doesn’t like vulgarity to be used about her body.
“Around her special spot,” I corrected myself.
The kid did as he was told. Lo moaned.
“Slide it in, gently. Not too quickly.”
This kid needed step-by-step diagrams.
Lo moaned again.
“When she feels loose, insert two fingers. She likes that.”
“Loose?” Lo asked, looking up at me from the bed.
“Relatively loose,” I corrected.
- Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose
Lo extended her arms out in front of her and lifted her ass up in the air for the boys to have it closer to their level. Her knees were still tucked under her torso. One of the brothers was wiggling his finger in her rear. He eventually added a second finger. The other brother held his cock in his hand, gawking awkwardly.
Lo was making small circles with her ass. She moved one hand and slapped her ass cheek hard. She did it again. She looked back over her shoulder, enjoying the view of the brother with his cock in his hand.
Eventually she began to inch backwards, sliding off of the bed.
- Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose
Standing, Lo bent over at the hip, deeply plunging her torso down toward the floor as the young fella plunged his two fingers deeply in her ass.
“That’s enough,” said Lo. “Fuck my ass.”
Both boys looked bewildered at the bounty of benefits they were getting. The one who had been holding his cock took the lead and slid it right into her accommodating back door.
As he was going at her, Lo put her hands around her ankles and held the pose perfectly. Though I couldn’t see from my vantage point, I imagine that she was looking up at the action from down below.
Eventually the other brother maneuvered onto the bed and sat in front of Lo. Lo pulled up her torso out of the folded pose and placed her mouth on the boy’s rigid cock, sucking and slurping. I was very impressed with the endurance both these youths had.
- Malasana – Garland Pose
Lo was very capable of bringing the brother before her to climax, but she was very careful not to. Instead, she pulled forward, leaving Mr. Backdoor standing firm. She lifted her lips up off of the cock they had covered with wet caresses, and she climbed up on the bed.
“You,” she said. I think she was as confused as to who was Gary and who was Roy as I was. “You, come here,” she commanded like a director on set before a shot. She placed him flat on the bed, his staff protruding upward.
She straddled him, facing him. Her hands grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them wide apart as she slowly lowered herself down on his eager erection, penetrating deep into her pussy. She remained on her feet over him.
“You,” she instructed to the other brother, Mr. Backdoor. “Get behind me and back in my ass,” she said, still spreading her ass cheeks apart.
He responded rapidly, hopping on the bed and, on his knees, sliding up and in her awaiting hole.
Now she had both brothers inside her. She extended her hands in front of her to keep her balance and their pistons alternated in-and-out of her like a two-cylinder engine. She moved her right hand down to her clit and began circling her bean. Knowing Lola as I do, I knew that this move always preceded —————-
There it is! Like a whale spout going off, her high pressure pussy precipitated all over the boy beneath her accompanied by her tirade of Tourette’s-like string of profanities. I think she actually scared both boys.
- Ustrasana – Camel Pose
The boy behind her slipped out of her ass as Lo was drenching his brother caught between her legs. Lo, thinking he was on the cusp of cumming himself, turned around rapidly and enveloped his cock with her mouth, taking it deep into her throat. She could feel how powerfully the pressure was building. At precisely the right moment, she pulled off his cock, drooped her head back, and grabbed onto her ankles with her hands, displaying her chest prominently for the young man to douse with his abundant display of gratification.
Covered in one brother’s cum, the second brother still lying between her spread legs, Lo leaned forward to lick clean any remnants of the first brother’s ejaculate. But then she devoted her full attention to the second brother.
Lo turned over, and lay on the boy’s sculpted torso, slathering him in the cum that was on her breasts. She kissed the brother on the lips, open mouth, and slid, kissing her way down his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, and right down to his rock-solid passion pillar.
When her mouth had alighted on the object of her desire, she turned to the other brother and said, “Hold it for me.”
“What?” he asked in disbelief.
“Hold his cock for me.”
Having been the beneficiary of Lo’s abundant generosity, he obliged. He reached out with his right hand and held his brother’s phallus firmly for Lo to lavish attention on it with her labia.
- Marjaryasana – Cat Pose
Lo was on her knees, supporting herself with her arms, drooping her head down and lightly licking the tip of the youth’s cock as his brother controlled the large limb with his right hand, circling it around Lo’s lips and slapping it on her cheek, just the way she likes.
- Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose
Lo said, “Get up.” The boy who’s tip she was teasing, looked momentarily stunned. A questioning look appeared in his eyes. But, by now he should have known better than to question Lo. He sat up. “All the way,” said Lo.
He got up. Lo took his place, lying flat on her back. She spread her legs wide, lifting them in the air, and grabbing her toes with her hands. Her pussy, drenched and glistening, clean shaven, and pink, was spread wide.
“Stand there,” she said, indicating right in front of her, between her legs.
The youth was on his knees, his cock raring to plunge into Lo’s gorgeous glazed open pussy.
“You like what you see?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you ready to cum?”
“No.”
“Good. Fuck me, then,” she said.
He got up and into her. Her arms and legs enveloped his body. Her face turned toward me. “Daddy,” she said as she received rapid thrusts from the youth.
“Yes,” I responded.
“I’m thirsty.”
I disappeared to the kitchen where I got Lo a large glass of ice water. I returned with it. The boy was pounding her, oblivious of my movements. Lo reached out with her left hand and took the water from me. Her forehead was sweating. Her hair matted down in front. She gulped the water as the boy continued his enthusiastic jousts at her cunt. I could tell that by this point, she wasn’t even feeling him, she was so wet and wide.
After she returned the water to me, she pushed the boy back, interrupting his irreverent attempts to cum inside her.
“Are you about to cum now?” Lo asked as he sat on his haunches in front of her, between her legs.
“I’m close,” he said.
“Grab it,” she instructed, but not to him, to his brother.
He took his brother’s hard cock in his hand.
“Jack him off. I want him to cum right here,” said Lo, slapping her pussy.
The two went at it, cock-in-hand, as Lo spread her lower lips with her fingers and slid a few deep inside.
“You like seeing me fuck myself?” she asked.
The boys couldn’t answer. They were mesmerized.
“You like how much of a slut I am? You like that I fucked you both right here in front of my man? You like my pussy? You like my ass?” she asked as she began fingering her special spot for them.
Suddenly, without any warning, the youth ejaculated with more force, volume, and velocity than I had ever seen. He covered Lo from head to pussy in his cum as his brother encouraged the multiple eruptions of his quaking cock.
“That’s it,” said Lo. “That’s it. Cum. Good boy. Cum all over me. Yeah.”
- Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose
When the brother finally completed his composition on Lo’s canvas, he smiled, obviously very pleased with himself. Lo smiled too and she bent her knees and curled her back a bit, pulling at her toes with her hands.
“Daddy,” she said.
“Yes Lo?”
“May I have my glass dildo please?”
I opened the night table drawer and pulled out “Glindo,” her glass dildo, and handed it to her.
She inserted it slowly in her wet pussy.
“Um,” said one of the boys, “we had better get going.”
“OK,” said Lo as she masturbated.
“This was fun,” said the other boy.
Lo was moaning at this point.
The boys were putting on their soaking wet clothes.
“Just tell your mom that you washed our car,” I said.
“Right,” said one of the boys.
“Bye Lo,” said the other one.
“Bye,” said his brother. “And thanks!”
Lo was too self-absorbed to respond.
Substitutes
The plans for Robert’s engagement had to be postponed due to COVID-19. Linda, his intended betrothed, was in Italy. He was here in America. His planned flight during spring break to visit her was cancelled. Without Linda and without Lo, who was with me during quarantine in Florida, he regressed to his former self – that is, suffering from erectile dysfunction.
When Lo and I finally returned home from our temporary pandemic paradise, he was very eager to see her. They had made a date. Lo explained that there was no worry about social distancing with Robert because he hadn’t seen anyone or been with anybody since our departure back in February. In addition, he was already prone to hypochondria and health anxiety, so he had taken every conceivable precaution to avoid contact with anyone. He was a real Howard Hughes, only without the money, fame, and grandiosity. The only exception he made to his rule was seeing Lo. Madness drives us all.
Lo was getting ready for her date with Robert. She got out of the shower and was drying her hair. I let out a cat whistle. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she says, “I’m already late.”
“I don’t have any funny ideas.”
“Good.”
“I have sexy ideas.”
“Most of your sexy ideas are pretty funny.”
“Like what?”
“Like your Stoya Fleshlight. Why would you fuck her when you could fuck me?”
“Because you won’t fuck me.”
“When won’t I fuck you?”
“Like. . . now.”
“I have a date.”
“Well then,” I said, pulling out the Fleshlight, “so do I.”
“The hell you do!”she shrieked, grabbing the Fleshlight out of my hands.
“You’ll fuck me before him?” I asked, incredulously.
“I told you, I’m already late.”
“He’s waited this long, another hour won’t kill him.”
“An hour?! How do you figure that you’ll need an hour to fuck me?”
“I was thinking two minutes to fuck you, but fifty-eight minutes for you to get dressed and do your makeup.”
“Funny. You just. . .”
In the middle of her sentence, her phone rang. It was Robert. She answered it in her sweet, seductive, slutty voice. “Hi Robert.”
There was some back-and-forth. After hanging up, she said, “He’s coming over here.”
“What? Why?”
“Apparently he couldn’t wait any longer. He’s already in the car on his way.”
“Then we can do it!”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re the one who gets the sloppy seconds, not him. And I also like to keep you in suspense.”
“Then give me back Stoya,” I said, reaching for the Fleshlight.
“I bet you’d like her, wouldn’t you?” she asked, as she put the cylinder between her legs, bent over, and made it appear that she had two pussies.
“That is inviting.”
“I told you, no funny ideas,” she said, attempting to walk around like that.
“You’re the comedian of this outfit,” I said. She put the Stoya Fleshlight on the nightstand and began blow drying her hair, applying her makeup, and getting dressed. She put on a special outfit just for Robert: naughty schoolgirl.
The bell rang and, as in the old days, I politely let Robert in with a collegial hello. There was no need to point him in the direction of the bedroom. He knew his way like a dog remembering where he buried his bone. He hadn’t seen me in four months and yet blew right past me. No formalities. Not even the pretense of interest. He was just interested in the sweet release induced by Lo spreading her knees.
I sat, frustrated, in the living room. But before too long, I got a text from Lo summoning me.
I entered the bedroom and found the two of them in the sack.
“Daddio, Robert and I had a little idea,” she said, using a tone to match her outfit.
“What’s that?”
“Well, he’s having a little trouble. It’s been a while since the equipment was last greaced and, well, we thought that a little role-reversal might help him to get it back up and in working order.”
“What sort of role-reversal?” I was both curious and confused.
“Instead of Robert fucking me and you watching, Robert will watch as you fuck me. How’s that sound?”
I was already hard. I didn’t have to answer, I just removed my pants, unbuttoned my shirt, and lifted the short skirt Lo was wearing. I got behind her and mounted her. She was standing on the side of the bed and Robert was lying down in the bed, silently observing every expression of her face as I penetrated her from behind.
She gently stroked and tickled his testicles and she could see him getting aroused.
“You like that?” she asked. “You like seeing your little slut getting fucked? You like to see my ass get pounded?”
He was getting harder.
Lo called over her shoulder to me, “Fuck me like you mean it!”
I increased the tempo and force of my thrusts.
“You like seeing him slam me repeatedly like a screen door in a hurricane?”
I have to admit, I laughed at that simile. But Robert was soberly serious.
Lo began to suck on his tumescent cock.
“Daddy,” said Lo over her shoulder again.
“What?” I asked, keeping up my aerobic gyrations.
“Can Robert use your Fleshlight?”
“What?! No,” I said.
“You won’t share your Fleshlight with him, but you’ll share my pussy?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Fine,” she said, perturbed and lunging forward so I fell out of her slick clit.
She climbed up on the bed and slid down on Robert’s erect phallus. “You can use Stoya while he gets the real thing!”
I went over to the nightstand and grabbed the instrument of self-pleasure, lubed her up, and slid her over my rod as I watched Lo exaggerate her enjoyment, specifically in order to piss me off, though it had quite the opposite effect.
Seeing that her affectations were not causing jealousy, she said to Robert, “Do you want my ass?”
“Yes,” he managed to mumble through his excited breathing.
She lifted up, grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands, spread them as far as they would go, and slid down slowly, gingerly on his lance. Up-and-down she carefully bobbed, taking him a little deeper with each foray. Soon enough she was down to the hilt of his cock. She was making comments about how big it felt and how hard he was. Her right hand moved to her clit and was rubbing it rapidly.
“Does it feel good?” she asked Robert.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You’re so tight,” he said.
“Tighter than my pussy?”
“Much.”
“Why else?”
“Your pussy was so wet. I didn’t even need lube.”
“I never need lube,” she said. “Why else do you like it?”
“You’re such a dirty girl.”
“Go on.”
“Such a dirty slut. A cum whore. A fuck-toy.”
Lo’s love language is jealousy. It turns her on to make me jealous. And, conversely, her own jealousy (of other women or even of Stoya) makes her even more sexually aggressive, like she has something to prove.
“Do you think Linda would do this? – let you have her ass?”
Robert was reaching up to grab Lo’s breasts and cup them with his hands.
“Do you think Linda would let you cum in her ass? Would she finger herself while you fucked her ass like I’m doing now?”
Indeed, Lo’s four fingers were curled and snug up inside her.
Robert pulled on her nipples.
“Smack my tits!” commanded Lo. “Yes, pull them, smack them.”
I saw her head tilt back and I knew what would be coming next.
A powerful stream of amrita sprayed from her onto Robert as if putting out a fire burning on his chest as she screamed “FUCK!”
Simultaneously he came in her ass and I in Stoya, each of us grunting our own mantras to the goddess.
Lo quickly jumped off his throbbing hard meat and took it deep in her mouth as she looked up at him. “Would your pure little bride Linda do this?” she asked as she licked him clean. “Even if she fucks you, you’re still going to want your dirty little Lo to use and abuse,” she reminded him.
She cupped his balls and fondled them, changing her tone from dominatrix to endearing concubine, she asked, “Feel better?”
“Yes, yes,” was all he could emote. She grabbed a towel from the side of the bed and wiped down the ejaculate from his chest, proud of her accomplishment.
After he was gone, she turned to me, her mood abruptly changing, and said, “You’re more jealous of Stoya than you are of me.”
“You’re right,” I said, surprised by my irrational preference, “I wouldn’t share my Fleshlight, but I would share my Lola.”
“Phhht,” she said, dismissively, “I take more pleasure in being shared anyhow.”
“The Good Place”
[We interrupt the mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” to bring you this timely tale of Lo’s date from Easter last year. We hope you enjoy it and hope that you have also been enjoying the mini-series. We will do our best to continue with the last few installments of the series this week. Happy Easter to everyone! We hope you are all safe, healthy, happy, sexy, and enjoying all of our content!”
“The Good Place”
It was Easter Sunday morning and we could both sleep late, finally. But I awoke to Lo screaming, “Fuck! God! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!!!” and a buzzing sound. I felt the sprinkle of her holy water on my foot and then she turned to me and said, “Oh, morning! Best alarm clock ever, right?” as she shut off her Hitachi Magic Wand and pulled it out from under the blankets. She jumped out of bed, bare-ass, and said, “You have to get up now, Daddy, because I have to strip.”
“You’re already naked.”
“I have to strip the bed. Get up.”
Reluctantly I got out from under the blankets as she peeled them off the bed to reveal the puddle she had made. She removed the sheets and tossed them in the laundry basket.
“A happy Easter to you too,” I said sarcastically. “Was that you reciting the Rosary?”
“No, but I can get my beads, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“What beads?”
“My anal beads, of course.”
“You are a sacrilegious sex-addict!”
“You are a silver-tonged poet!”
“Now that we have stroked each other’s egos, what else would you like to stroke?”
As she was taking out the fresh sheets, she picked up her Hitachi and said, “Now I know why they call it a Magic Wand! Because it does the trick every time!”
Meanwhile, I was standing naked, my cock saluting her sexy body as she moved and jiggled making the bed.
Once the corners were all tucked and the bed turned down, I jumped in.
“Hey!” she said, “I just made that!”
“Yeah, well it was made just for me.”
“No, it was made for me. . . to get laid.”
“I don’t object to that.”
“Later,” she said, to my great disappointment.
“What do you have to do now?”
“I have a date.”
“What?!”
“A date, with a girl.”
“What?!” I said again.
“Yeah, I took out another ad,” she said, nonchalantly, as she tossed her phone on the bed for me to see.
Adventurous, sexy, intelligent, fun female seeks the same for good time out on the town and in the bedroom. I like to dominate and, occasionally, be dominated. I’m experienced and in an open relationship, but he will not be part of this. Trysexual – I’ll try anything! D&D Free. You be too. NO GUYS! Must have voice confirmation. Send e-mail with info about you and pics. Need not be explicit, but must show face.
“When did you do this?” I inquired.
“A while ago,” she said in her Scarlett O’Hara voice as she put on her pink thong panties. “And my date is today.”
“Can I come along?” I asked. It was more like pleading.
“No! Didn’t you read the ad?”
“Yes, but. . .”
“No buts.”
“But your butt. It’s such a nice butt. And it’s such a nice day. Where are you going?”
“We’re meeting for coffee at the café around the corner.”
“I’ll just sit by you.”
“No, you’ll make me self-conscious.”
“Please.”
I must have been very pathetic because she finally gave in.
“Fine, but you have to wait at least ten minutes before you leave, and don’t sit anywhere near me.”
“OK. I’ll just sit where I can see you.”
She put on her cutest pink skirt and white t-shirt top, little baby blue pumps, and grabbed a designer handbag.
“How do I look?”
“You’re missing something.”
“What?”
“A pink Easter bonnet.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. Remember, ten minutes!”
“Yes, I know. I still have to get dressed anyhow.”
She was out the door and I rifled through my drawers to find something inconspicuous to wear. I put on the first things I found and dashed outside. I could see Lo’s little caboose sashaying down the street about fifty yards ahead of me. It was a beautiful sight along with the pink blossoms on the trees and the budding tulips.
I slowed down as Lo found her date and introduced herself, sitting down next to her at a little table on the sidewalk. Either her date got there early or Lo was late. In either case, Lo’s date was a very cute redhead with freckles. Lo had her back to my approach.
I was hoping to get a seat in the restaurant where I could safely spy on the two of them from behind the plate-glass window. But the hostess seated me outside, just diagonally from them both. Not only could I see everything, I could hear them too! At first Lo didn’t see me, thank goodness, because she would have been very cross at me.
They ordered breakfast and mimosas. I did too.
Lo’s date was not at all what I had expected. Usually the people who reply to these personal ads are men and women (or couples) roughly about Lo’s age – early to mid-twenties. But maybe due to the aging of the technology and its becoming obsolete by newer apps, like Tinder and Bumble, it’s an older crowd that is cruising the virtual personals. (By the way, Lo doesn’t use those more popular apps because she’s afraid of being recognized by her colleagues, or worse, students!) This woman was in her mid-thirties, at least. Maybe forty, but it’s hard to say. Long strawberry-blonde hair, thin, wearing denim shorts, high wedges with straps, and a loose-fitting black blouse. She rocked the outfit, but I was surprised to see a woman who looked like she could be a mom.
The seats outside filled up and it got a little louder. I found it difficult to hear them, but I caught snippets of their conversation. The mystery woman (I didn’t know her name yet) was asking about Lo’s “half-open relationship.” I heard Lo reply, “I’m not homosexual or heterosexual, bi-sexual, or even metro-sexual. I’m very sexual.” I’m sure she followed that with a pass of her tongue over her pearly white teeth.
The woman continued along the same lines, inquiring about Lo’s promiscuity (in a polite way) and Lo said, “I don’t call it slutty. I call it getting my needs met.”
I could see that Lo’s date liked this sort of talk. Lo can be very direct. The date reciprocated. I heard her say, “Your pussy and panties must smell so good!”
To which Lo replied, “Like roses and cotton candy.”
When they had finished their meals and were drinking coffee, the waitress brought them each a complimentary Cadbury egg for dessert. Lo was elated. She unwrapped it and then slowly bit into the chocolate and then said, “Mmmmm, I love to lick out the cream!”
“Me too,” said her friend. “How about we go back to your place?”
“I’m wide open to that idea,” said Lo, and I could see her uncross her legs and remove her foot from her shoe to rub her friend’s calf. “But,” she added, “my man is there right now.”
I wanted to leap up from my seat and say, “No, no! I’m not. I’m right here! Go right ahead.” But I had to keep silent.
Her friend looked very disappointed. Lo hates to disappoint. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, “maybe I can text him and tell him to leave us alone for a couple of hours.”
Her friend perked up at that idea. Lo took out her phone and soon I got a text saying, “Is it ok, Daddy?” Thank goodness my phone was on silent, because the sound of it going off with a text message may have looked suspicious.
I texted back, “Is what ok?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you’re sitting right there. Is it ok for me to take Meri to our place for a while?”
“If that pleases you,” I texted back.
Lo smiled at her friend. They paid the bill and soon were off to fuck, leaving me with nothing to do on Easter morning. I didn’t even bring a book!
About two hours later and about eight miles of strolling through our sunny city streets, I finally got a text from Lo. It said, “Exhausted! Come home.”
I hightailed it back to our place only to find Lo in the messed bed, naked again.
“Come here,” she said.
“Still love me?” I asked first.
She pulled down the covers and spread her legs as far apart as they would go and said, “Daddy, I love you THIS much!”
“Will you tell me each and every detail?”
“You know I will. I have a pornographic memory.”
I got naked and lay on top of her and plunged my rod deep in her hole.
She said, “Uh uh. No. In my ass. My cunt is worn out.”
I flipped her over on her tum and slid right in.
“You’re so slick,” I said.
“I’m a well-oiled machine,” she replied.
“Now tell me,” I insisted.
“Believe it or not, Meri is a mother of three and the oldest is eighteen!”
“I can’t believe it,” I said, both about what Lo had said and how good her rear entrance felt. “You fucked a mom?!”
“More like she fucked me. She’s been married twenty-two years and has never before been with a woman.”
“Really?”
“She got permission from her husband to find someone to show her the ropes.”
“There were ropes involved?”
“Shut up and keep fucking my ass.”
I am good at taking instructions like that.
“We got here and she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes and hop into bed. No small talk, no foreplay, nothing. So I asked her, ‘What do you want? To do me or me to do you?’ She said she wanted to do me. She wanted to fuck me good and hard. She has quite the domineering streak about her. So I pulled out my dildo and placed it in her hands. She was amazed at the size of it. I told her not to be shy. I slipped out of my panties and pulled my skirt over my waist and lay on the bed with my legs spread. She began by fingering me. She asked if it was ok first, which I thought was nice. I said, ‘Just fuck me like your little whore.’ That got her going. She used the dildo on my puss, ramming it fast and hard, hitting my spot. She never saw a woman squirt before in real life and she was thrilled that she was able to do that for me! Little did she know that I squirt just about every time.”
“Are you squirting now?” I interrupted to ask, since I felt her juices dripping down my thigh.
“Not yet, Daddy. I’m just soaked.”
I increased my speed and depth.
“That’s it,” she said. “Like she did with the dildo in my cunt.”
She pulled up a photo of Meri from her phone to look at it. “She has great tits,” Lo said as she began squirting on me with force, soaking the bed. She suddenly fell forward, lying flat on her tum in the puddle she made, convulsing like a fish out of water. There was no way I could stay in her. I grabbed my drenched, hard baton and lay on my back next to her.
“Are you ok?” I asked.
I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head. She was temporarily blitzed out.
When she came to, she said, “What an amazing day!”
“Full of Easter Eggs,” I said, jokingly.
She played with my hard cock with her right hand, seeing how it bounced back into its rigid upright position when she would bend it down.
“Christ has risen. Christ will cum again,” she said, stroking my member from the base to the tip.
“Good for Christ, but I haven’t cum once!”
She pivoted on her tum so her mouth was over my cock and she put out her tongue as if to receive Holy Communion. “May I have your flesh?” she asked.
She took my cock in her mouth and slid up and down the shaft. She went all the way down to my balls and took them in her warm, wet mouth. It felt good, but I needed sweet release. She returned to the tip and looked up at me.
Momentarily, she pulled up off my cock in order to say, “I wanted to go down on her. I wanted to return the fuck for her. But she didn’t let me. She just fucked me fast and furious and filled my cunt with all sixteen inches of my dildo. I didn’t get to give her any pleasure at all, other than the pleasure of pounding me like a boss.”
Lo went back down on my dick looking up at me again. “Am I a good girl, Daddy?” she asked, looking for approval.
“Did Meri think you were a good girl?”
“I don’t know,” she said as her fingers fondled me between my legs, lightly. “I came by the bucket load, and then she said she had to get going. She had plans with her family for Easter, she said. She got dressed and simply blew me a kiss as she let herself out. I was too weak to even get up. I used my skirt to soak up what I could and texted you.”
“You’re a very good girl,” I said.
I was lying on my back and she got up, straddled me with her knees beside my hips, and she grabbed her ass cheeks with each hand, spread them, and slowly let herself down on my erect cock, guiding it directly into her anus, slowly. I’m not nearly as long as her dildo, but she slid down on me until she was sitting on my pelvis. She pulled her feet in between my legs and sat there, her back to me, and she rocked gently back and forth to feel me deep inside her. I could feel the tip of my member penetrating as far up as possible. She spread her legs and began fingering her clit. She grabbed her red dildo, the one that Meri had used on her, and slipped it up and in her pussy. I could feel it enter her. She was filled and tight and moaning a tune of pleasure. I lay on my back enjoying her ride. She called over her shoulder to me, “Cum in me. Cum. Cum and fill me up. I want to feel your hot. . .”
She didn’t finish her command before I obediently complied. I pulsed with strong spurts of spunk into her hole. She tightened her grip on me even further and I felt as if she wouldn’t let go. I didn’t mind. I liked being there, deep inside her.
I felt her slide the dildo out from her front hole as she squirted down onto her ankles. And then, after a long sigh of relief, she slowly lifted her bum up off of me. I slid out of her as she eased her way up, with both hands grabbing her ass again, and she let all of my cream filling slowly leak out onto my flaccid cock.
Her whole body crumbled as if, deprived of my rigidity, it had no strength to remain upright. She lay next to me on the bed. She curled into her little spoon as I cuddled her as her big spoon. She fell off to sleep in the midst of all the mess she and I had made together, not to mention the mess Meri had made of her. It was only a cat nap. When she awoke, I whispered in her ear, asking her, “Would you like to watch an episode of “The Good Place?”
“Mmmmmm,” she said, moving her right hand behind her, reaching down to my cock and then inserting a finger in her soaked ass, and she said, “This is the good place.”
Slut Seminar
[We take a break from our regularly scheduled programming of “Mount Bliss” in order to bring you this brief story that was published in the April Issue of ENM Magazine (Ethical Non-Monogamy). ENM only launched in January of this year and now, due to COVID-19, is struggling. Please stop by and support them. Thanks.]
“It is hard to imagine ‘slut’ being reclaimed the way ‘queer’ was, as a respectable label for academic programs and cultural centers.” (“Slut: The Other Four Letter S-Word,” on Fresh Air, WHYY, NPR, March 13, 2012)
The course was only open to graduate students and doctoral candidates. They were mostly from the Women’s Studies department, but some were from English and/or Comp. Lit. One or two were from the Philosophy department and one from the Religious Studies/Theology department. It didn’t matter where they came from; what mattered was that they came.
This was the cutting edge of academia: Slut Studies. The syllabus was a stroll down all the dark, forbidden stacks of the salacious, suggestive, censored and censured, prurient, perverted, plucky and poetic pornographic literature of the centuries.
It culminated with an in-depth reading and analysis of Match, Cinder & Spark. The professor was only a few years older than the students, if that. The student body was female and most of them either lusted for or loathed the professor because she was either the woman they wanted to bed or the woman they wanted to be.
They listened intently to her lectures and were eager to contribute to the lively debate about the nature of the nympho.
The English Lit student, Yael, said, “I think that Lola is a metaphor, a symbol, maybe even a mythic archetype.”
“Of what?” replied the professor.
“Of the receptive, open, accepting, and limber principle of life. The Great Feminine. And her squirting episodes are emblematic of the fluidity of life.”
“Like Yin in Taoism?” inquired the professor.
“Or it could be the other way around,” chimed in the Theology student.
“What do you mean by that?” asked the professor, genuinely confused.
“I mean. . .” began Sarah, the seminarian, searching for the right formulation of her thoughts, “that maybe we need to reimage our notion of God.”
“I’m not sure I follow,” said the professor. “How does that relate to the text?”
“Well, for millennia, God was understood as a stern, strict, father figure. Or, even if we look at the New Testament, a chaste, pure, abstemious saintly sufferer. There’s little room for pleasure, sex, sexuality, or love that borders on desire in those paradigms. Without a sex-positive godhead, how can you be sex-positive giving head?”
There were some chuckles in the classroom at that comment.
“No, seriously,” she implored, “maybe Lola is the avatar of a sex-positive spirituality.”
“That seems to bring us right back to Plato’s Diotima,” the professor said, trying to reframe the discussion and put it on an academic foundation.
“I don’t see why we have to contextualize the cunt in such highfalutin imagery,” interrupted one Marxist from the class.
The professor wasn’t sure if her use of “cunt” was literal or synecdoche.
“I mean,” said Mandy the Marxist, “there’s a direct correlation between the pussy and the personality. It’s that simple. Open, warm, welcoming, easy, or tight, closed, and constricting. One either gives and receives or one is greedy and rejecting.”
To that comment, there was a big uproar in the class. It seemed everyone wanted to criticize Mandy.
One voice eventually won out over the din. “That is so black and white! So dualistic!” It was Penny, the philosopher. “You Marxists are just Hegelian dialectical materialists. It’s either/or with you.”
“Please, please,” refereed the professor, “There’s no need to be so personal.”
“I’m not being personal,” said Penny. “I’m not attacking Mandy. Just her philosophical assumptions.”
“Well, let’s make sure that we’re all clear about that,” the professor said, trying to keep the calm.
“Lola is more complex than goddess/whore, open/closed, yin/yang. Yes, she has a lot of sex, with herself and others. But, ultimately, she’s just human with human foibles, human desires, and she’s flesh and blood.”
“She’s a literary character,” interrupted Yael.
“I mean,” said Penny, “she’s depicted like a human of flesh and blood.”
“Actually,” said the professor, “she is a human of flesh and blood.”
“What?” gasped many of the women.
“Well, yeah,” said the professor, a bit embarrassed that she let the pussy out of the bag. “I know her.”
“You know her?!” one of the students asked in disbelief. “I thought this was fiction.”
“It says right on it ‘roman à clef,’” she said.
“Meaning?” asked one of the students.
“That’s a look-it-up question,” shot back the surly professor. She had no patience for graduate students who don’t use the incredibly convenient tools at their disposal, like the internet. “It means a text in which the characters are based on real people, but their identities are slightly concealed.”
“So Lola is a real person and you know her?”
The professor nodded.
They were all on the edge of their seats waiting for her to reveal more.
“I think now is a good time to take a break,” said the professor.
While outside the classroom, the students chatted, musing amongst themselves, “Do you think she is Lola?” one asked, referring to the hot professor.
“No way,” said another.
“Could be,” pondered a third.
“I bet she is Lola,” said a fourth.
“You’re totally wrong,” said another.
“How do you know?”
“Because, it’s a ‘look-it-up question’,” she said, mimicking the professor’s snide tone.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I looked up Lola Down and found so much!”
Everyone took out their phones and started looking her up.
Ooos and Ahhhs were heard before they were stifled as the professor walked by and all the women compared what they saw on their phones to the professor’s curvy figure in her tight dress as she pranced past them.
They followed her in, each formulating a theory about the fount of her personality.
[This story was inspired by Yael Wolfe (@yaelwolfehowls). Lola & HH also are very thankful to the gentlemen at Tehben.com (Matthew Burroughs and Nelsen Rockingham) who have thoughtfully reviewed three of the Match, Cinder & Spark books. We avidly welcome other scholars, such as John of astijake.wordpress.com and Dr. Kasey Butcher of phdsandpigtails.com, to write a scholarly review.]
Farm to Table
[Continued from “Tuesday’s Tale.”]
Though her brief email Tuesday morning gave me some indication as to what was going on in vacationland, it left me with so many more questions: What were Lo and Lily wearing to bed? Just how many times did Lo masturbate? What was Lily’s reaction? Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for my answers. Lo knows me well. As soon as she sent the email, she also texted me to alert me to its dispatch and she said, “Tell me when you’re done reading it.”
I texted her back and she immediately called me with her very sexy, sultry voice.
“Hi Daddy.”
I was at work. I couldn’t respond in kind.
“Tell me, how is your vacation?” I asked in a quasi-formal tone.
“Mmmmmmm,” was all I heard from the other end of the line. Her answer left a lot to the imagination.
“Lo, I can’t really talk right now, so. . .”
“We’re going out today, Daddy,” she said, interrupting me. “I’ll call you later, ok?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Do you miss me?”
“Very much.”
“Do you want me to come?”
“What?”
“Do you want me to come?”
Was she masturbating on the phone? I had no idea. It wouldn’t be unheard of. But then she added, “home.” “Do you want me to come home?” she asked.
“I miss you, Lo. But have a good time. Call me tonight?”
“I miss you too. Gotta run,” she said hastily. “Kisses!” Then she hung up.
I didn’t hear back from her that night. It wasn’t until Wednesday morning that I got word from her and that meant I slept almost not at all Tuesday night.
Wednesday morning she sent me a photo that appeared to be her giving an incredibly tiny cock a hand-job, but it was hard to tell exactly.
The text that accompanied the picture simply said, “Getting a lot of practice for you, Daddy. Do you miss me?” I received those at about 7:45 Wednesday morning, before I went to work. I asked her to call me, but she didn’t respond. After another poor night of sleep for me, this was just too much to bear.
When she called later Wednesday, she caught me at work yet again. I sat at my desk and heard her phone-sex voice as I tried to remain poker-faced. I felt like a wax statue exposed to a hot fire. She melted me inside, but I remained stoic externally.
She gave me the details of Tuesday’s excursion. After a small breakfast at home, Collin had announced that he had very special dinner plans for Lily and Lola. It was too cloudy and cool for the boat on the lake and so, he suggested a different outing. Suzanne wasn’t going to join. Collin said the girls should wear clothes they could get dirty in. Lo’s curiosity was piqued. Lo wore her denim skirt and a white, semi-transparent tank top. No panties, no bra.
Soon the girls were in the Jeep with Collin riding across the terrain again, which frightened Lo half to death, but also exhilarated her. Collin brazenly had his hand on Lo’s knee the entire ride.
They arrived at a farm, about a half hour from the cottage. Collin explained to Lo and Lily that dinner was literally going to be a farm-to-table experience, but that he had arranged for the girls to work on the farm first to “earn your keep.” The girls were game. “You know how I love the country life,” said Lo over the phone.
Their chores included picking the fruit: peaches, apples, nectarines. That required Lo to climb up the ladders while Colin held them in place, giving him the perfect view up her skirt.
Then they had to move the bales of hay. This was very difficult for them, but Collin came in with a tractor and they were able to stack the hay properly.
Collin then let the girls take turns driving the tractor around the perimeter of the property before the girls were really put to work in the barn. They had to milk the goats. (So that’s what that picture was!) Lo told me how good she was at it due to her wide experience using her hands with the same movement.
“Mr. H.,” said Ms. Gale, my secretary, barging into my office.
“What?” I almost barked at her.
“There is a client here to see you.”
“With an appointment?”
“No.”
“Tell whomever it is, I’m busy.”
“But. . .”
“Busy! And please close the door behind you Ms. Gale.”
She exited.
“If you’re busy Daddy. . .” began Lo.
“No, I want to hear the rest of your story,” I said, sounding almost desperate.
She went on to tell me that after milking the goats, they had to churn the milk into butter. She bragged again about how expert she was at that and insinuated that she also had a lot of practice.
Finally, after doing their chores on the farm, Collin took the girls for a horseback ride, bareback, to a park where they had a little snack of fresh baked bread, the butter they had made, some cheese, and the fruit they had picked. Lo informed me that she sat in such a way to allow Collin more views of her pink, ripe delights.
Lo asked me, “Do you prefer peach or nectarine, Daddy?”
“Are you referring to fruit, Lo?” I asked, perplexed.
“What do you think?” she teased.
“Well,” I said, “when you left, you were peach.”
“Let’s just say I’m nectarine now. And very juicy.”
I could hardly handle it. She knows how to entice me. “Show me,” I said.
She said I should wait a minute, hung up, and then texted me a pic. It was not exactly what I had expected: a photo of a peach next to a nectarine.
“Very funny,” I typed back.
Then she followed it with a photo of her shaved pussy peeking out of her short denim skirt.
“What happened next?” I asked, impatient to hear her whole story and a bit scared she’d scamper off again to do who-knows-what before getting to the end of her day.
After lunch, Lo told me, they went to town and browsed through the little knick-knack stores, antique stores, art galleries, and bookshops. Lo said she found one book that she showed to Collin to get his attention. It was an anthology of erotica. She asked Collin if he or his wife enjoy naughty reads.
But before telling me his answer, she simply told me that he was more than happy to buy the book for her and she sent me a little photo to prove it.
After their excursion to town, they returned to the farm/restaurant for dinner, but, just as she was launching into her “I’ve got a sexy story to tell you” voice, Ms. Gale again interrupted.
“Mr. H., that client is still here. Will you see him?”
Infuriated, I made my apologies to Lo and hung up, more frustrated than Coleridge when the visitor from Porlock arrived.
Flawless
In the first volume of Parerga und Paralipomena I read again that everything which can happen to a man, from the instant of his birth until his death, has been preordained by him. Thus, every negligence is deliberate, every chance encounter an appointment, every humiliation a penitence, every failure a mysterious victory, every death a suicide.
Jorge Luis Borges
Labyrinths, from the story, “Deutsches Requiem” p. 143
Ever since I first read Henry James’ The Portrait of a Lady, I knew what I wanted to write: the antithetical portrait. I wanted to write a response to the ever upright, ever virtuous, ever socially acceptable Isabel Archer. I was young when I read Portrait, still, it had a profound effect on me. I found it a struggle to read each and every painstaking page. The rectitude of the protagonist grated on me. Her compliance to social norms caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Her pathetic powerlessness at the hands of the pervasive patriarchy outraged me.
By the time I had read Portrait, I had already loved and left my lusty slut to whom I had lost my virginity. Her nymphomaniacal ways were beyond my limited abilities to assimilate into my concept of the world at that tender age. But, as I read Portrait, I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I wanted to strip Isabel of her honor and her clothes.
The idea remained and germinated in my mind over many years. When, at a more advanced age, I had read the collected works of the Marquis de Sade, I thought at first that I was too late. Someone had written the great work I envisioned since reading Henry James. However, the more I read of Sade, the more I realized that no, this is not the work I envisioned. Sade is brilliant, imaginative, subversive, and powerful. He was an important voice for his time and, despite many detractors, he actually offers a harsh critique of religious institutions, monarchy, marriage, and all the other permutations of patriarchy. He spares none in his scathing evaluation of oppression in all its forms. But his protest is essentially a resounding No! That was important for his era, but what he lacks, probably because it was unimaginable at the time, was a heroine who could proclaim a resounding Yes!
All of Sade’s fictional female figures are victims. They may also be villains, but they are so only because they were first victims. Hurt people hurt people, as the saying goes. They were formed by the social, political, religious, judicial, and educational systems, hierarchies, and prejudices of their culture. What Sade was really up to is open to debate, but a charitable reading could be that he was shining a light on the gender injustices of his day and, even if his medium of doing so was “sadistic” (a term that was invented because of him), it also was sympathetic to the plight of women.
But I longed to write The Great American Novel that told a different story. Not the story of Justine, not the story of Juliette, and certainly not the story of Isabel Archer! I wanted to write the story of a sex-positive woman who claimed her own sexuality, her female form, her feminine facticity, her healthy desires, her sexual conquests, her orgasms, her self-pleasure, and her liberal lending of her labia as her own in a way that was not the result of victimhood and was not wielded as vindictiveness. In other words, I wanted a sexual heroine, not an anti-heroine, despite how some retrograde segments of our modern society might still view such a character.
Perhaps that deep-seated vision of a new dawn was responsible for drawing me into Lo’s orbit and then, ultimately, for my “drawing” her in my writings as the woman of my dreams. I cannot deny that Lo, when I met her, was not already without scars from the injustices of society, family, and past sexual partners. But she was not a victim. She was, even then, well on her way to inhabiting her own power. She was healing. Through obstacles, with love and support, encouragement and empathy, she (re)claimed her puss and her prowess.
Lo might not have escaped the perils of being born a woman, but she has transformed her trauma into a personal triumph. I endeavor to portray Lo not as a perfect portrait of feminine form, but as a realistic rendition of a flawed, fallible figure; made all the more beautiful by her unique imperfections.
I love Lola not because she is flawless, but because of her wabi-sabi character. I love her the way Woody Allen loved New York City of the ’70’s. Back then, the city was far from perfect. She had her many ugly sides. But he was in love with her and wanted to tell her stories to the world, to get the world to see her the way he saw her. To get the world to fall in love with her just as he had.
Writing about Lo is not only my love letter to her, but, as so many who have read about her have told us, her story is also a vehicle to help others become as daring, confident, and self-actualizing as Lo, because perfect people don’t perfect people, but healed people can heal people.
A Sexy Sample
We want to send a big shout out and many kisses to Girl on the Net for posting a sexy sample of our newly available audio book of “Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl.” The original hard copy is quite expensive, but worth it. The ebook is very affordable. But this audio book is a totally new immersive experience, thanks to the fabulous talent of Ms. Jupiter Grant of Jupiter’s Lair, the narrator!
Go give it a free listen today and, if you love it, which you will, order your own copy.