NILF

Posted on August 28, 2019 by Lola Down

“How have things with Linda been?” inquired Lo.

“OK,” said Robert with a tone of disappointment.

“Why just OK?”

“She has one boyfriend in Naples, another in Amsterdam, and then she toys with me.”

“Toys with you?” Lo’s ears perked up.

Robert had made an excellent meal for Lo and me even though we had dropped in on him unexpectedly. He is a very generous and hospitable man and he opened a bottle of wine for Lo as he and I enjoyed an excellent bottle of Scotch. It was so good and so smooth that, before we knew it, he and I were on our fourth already. It hit me all at once and I suddenly realized that I was having difficulty seeing straight.

“We Skype with each other once a week.”

“Ooooh,” squealed Lo, “Skype sex.” Her tongue slid over her front teeth.

Robert blushed, “It’s not like that,” he protested.

“I’m sure,” responded Lo.

“No, really. Well, maybe once in a long while.”

“I knew it!”

“But I meant no double entendre. I simply meant that. . .”

“Do you like to watch?” interrupted Lo.

“What?”

“Do you like to watch, to watch her, Linda, when she toys with you?”

Robert squirmed a little in his seat, uncomfortable. He’s tremendously uptight and prudish, but he also thinks of himself as enlightened and courageous, so he answered the question, “Well, yes.”

“Do you reciprocate?”

“That’s usually why she calls me on Skype. To. . .”

“To see you jack it?”
“If you wish to put it that way, yes.”

“I do like this gal. When can I meet her?”

“That’s just the thing. She shuttles between Italy, Holland, and London and I don’t think we’ll be together in person again anytime soon.”

“She can’t just puddle jump the pond and come over for a quicky?”

Robert laughed at the suggestion.

“Boy, you must be so hard-up,” said Lo seductively.

Robert poured himself another whiskey and gestured to pour another for me. I covered the top of my glass to decline the offer.

“I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m going to lie down for a bit.” I got up, unsteadily, and found my way to the guest bedroom. It was right off the hall that went to the living room and so I heard snippets of their conversation from bed.

“I remember when I was between boyfriends,” Lo was saying, “not literally. I mean, after I graduated college and before HH, I used to spend two or three nights a week at my friend Alyssa’s apartment. She and I were the best of friends back then. I had no romantic designs on her, but we’d share a bed, both of us naked, holding each other. She and I were both single and on nights that we didn’t want to go home with a stranger, we’d take comfort in the love we shared. After she fell asleep, I’d lie there, wide awake, horny, and I’d touch myself silently, careful not to wake her up with my strokes or my inevitably powerful orgasm. Now that’s what I do next to HH sometimes. Like tonight, I’ll probably have to do that since he drank too much.”

Hearing her say that brought a smile to my lips as my mind drifted off on whiskey-saturated clouds. I dozed for I don’t know how long before I was roused from my slumbers by the sound of Lo’s voice saying, “Are you sure you don’t want some company?” She was just entering my room and, as I opened my eyes, I saw Robert’s shadow in the hallway.

“I’ve had too much to drink. I’m going to feel like shit in the morning. Thank you, Lo,” he said politely.

“Well, won’t you at least tuck me in?” she asked. I saw her silhouetted against the hall light filling the doorway. She slowly removed her blouse, dropped her jeans, undid her bra and took it off, and then slid out of her panties. I felt her naked body sit on the edge of the bed and then lift up her legs on top of the covers under which I was lying. Her legs spread and her hand stroked between them.

Robert entered the room timidly. He bent down to offer Lo a kiss goodnight. She pulled his arm and gently guided him into the bed. “There’s room enough for all three of us,” she said.

He got into the queen-size bed. I heard Lo kiss him and before very long I heard him sleeping. I was about to drift off again myself when I felt and saw Lo caressing herself, there, naked, between the two of us.

After a restless night of beautiful dreams, I awoke to find Lo next to me, naked, and Robert next to her, fully clothed. She was nestled up to his body with her right hand on his crotch. I was holding her – a big spoon to her little spoon – caressing her breasts.

I carefully extricated myself from the scene and snuck into the kitchen to make coffee. I found my phone in my pocket and on it was a text from Lo. It was sent only a few hours earlier: “Can I fuck Robert? Please!”

I texted her back: “Good morning, my love. I was hard-up all night – from the moment you got into the bed next to me to the moment I woke up next to you, caressing your breasts and your sweet ass. Your warm, soft, luscious, naked body looks lovely in the morning light. In my dreams a word came to mind for you – NILF: Nymph I’d Like to Fuck. Yes, that’s you.

By all means, feel free to get Robert up! You have my permission to rouse him. Show him what a NILF you are.”

I was sitting, enjoying a warm cup of coffee when Lo sauntered into the living room wearing one of Robert’s dress shirts, covering her sexy body down to the middle of her thighs. She said nothing. She just cozied up to me on the couch.

“How are you, sweetheart?”

“I missed you, Daddy.”

“What about Robert?”

“Out like a light.”

“And you?”

She nestled her face into my chest and said something inaudible.

“What?”

She looked up at me and repeated it in a whisper, “I need to get fucked.”

“By me or him?” I asked, adding after, “Or both?”

“Preferably both, but I’ll take what I can get.”

I stood up and dropped my trousers. She bent over the side of the couch and I entered her from behind. She held herself in place with her left hand and rubbed herself between her legs with her right. It took all of 90 seconds before she came the first time, audibly. It was about another minute and a half before she came a second time, even louder. The third time took about five minutes and it was deafening.

I pulled out and said, “You’re just trying to wake him up, aren’t you?”

“Am I a good NILF or bad?”

“It doesn’t matter, dear.”

“Why not?” she asked, puzzled.

“Because you’re my NIFL and I love you.”

She got on her knees and sucked me off until I came in her mouth and then she got up and we made breakfast together. The aroma of the eggs and toast must have woken Robert, because he finally emerged from the bedroom holding his head.

“Owe!” he lamented, “Aspirin!”

“Here,” said Lo, helping him to sit down at the table. “Have some of this,” she said as she poured him some orange juice and went into the bathroom to get the aspirin. She came back and nursed him.

“That’s my shirt,” said Robert after a moment.

“Oh, sorry,” said Lo. “Do you want it back?” she asked and made as if to unbutton it.

“No,” said Robert, “I just realized – it looks much better on you.”

We had breakfast together and then Lo removed the shirt and handed it back to Robert. “I’m just going to change and then we’ll be going,” she said, standing naked before him.

Robert was speechless.

“Thanks for the hospitality. But next time, try not to drink so much,” she said before disappearing into the bedroom.

“Do you remember what happened last night?” asked Robert of me.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you mind sharing?”

“No,” I said, “but when I share, it is only good manners to stay sober enough to be up for it.”

[Editor’s note, this story involves Dr. Robert Smith. For previous stories that include him, click on the links to: Well Laid, Hey Good Lookin’, Pyro, Happy as a Clam, Good Night, My Whore, and Attention Slut. There’s no need to read those stories in that order for this story, but if you are interested in the long flirtation between Lo and Dr. Robert Smith, you can get the backstory in those posts.]

Community Chest

Posted on August 22, 2019 by Lola Down

What’s black and white and read all over?

Recently our financial situation improved. In no small part, Lo’s getting a full-time job has certainly contributed to our recovering fiscal health. Now that we aren’t always scraping by to pay the rent or put food on the table, we actually have a little bit of money that we can set aside for a rainy day. So, trying to be the responsible adults we pretend to be, we created a joint savings account. I know, nothing says sexy like money in the bank. Walking home from the bank, feeling a sense of accomplishment, I said to Lo, “We’ll call our account ‘The Community Chest.’”

“Community Chest! – That’s what they called me in college!” she blurted out with a smile.

I thought she was joking and said as much.

“No,” she said, “that’s really what they called me. There’s a long story there that I’ll tell you when we get home,” she said, grabbing hold of my hand and pressing her palm into mine.

When we got home, I started to make myself a sandwich in the kitchen. “So,” I said to her, “what’s the story from college?”

“What story?” Lo asked, playing dumb. She loves to tease me and see that she has succeeded in piquing my interest.

“You know what story,” I said, taking out the pickles, “the ‘Community Chest’ story.”

She reached down and slid her hands from her waist up and under her bust, pushing upwards so that her cleavage bulged out of the neckline of her black tank top. “You like, Daddy?”

“Yes,” I said, “but I want to hear the story.”

“Kiss them,” she instructed.

I wagged my pickle at her (literally, no pun), and said, “Look here, Lo, if you’re trying to get me to hop in the sack with you and forego this lovely lunch I’ve just made, you’re in for some disappointment.”

“I’ll be your lunch,” she said, standing up, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall to the kitchen floor. She stood in her little black lace panties and her black boots.

“Lola,” I said plaintively.

“You know,” she paused and thought and then said, “I’m hungry too.” She sauntered over to the fridge like a stripper on the stage. She bent over, putting her ass in the air, standing on her tiptoes, and took a long look at the contents. “I know what I want to eat,” she said, turning and walking toward me.

“Lo. Lo, I see that look in your eye. Lo.”

It was no use. She dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor. She undid my belt, unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, pulled them down, pulled out my hard cock and filled her mouth with meat.

“Fuck my face,” she asked, looking up at me. “Put your hands here,” she said, moving my hands to her head, “and push me, use me, fuck my mouth.” I followed instructions. “Harder, Daddy!” she said before I forced her back on my rod. I had passed the point of no return and soon I was filling her up as she ravenously swallowed all I gave her. It all happened in the matter of a few moments. Then she got up, took my plate with the sandwich that I had so carefully prepared, and sat at the table, taking a big bite of it. “Mmmmmm,” she said, “can I have a glass of seltzer to go with this?”

“Lo! That was my sandwich!” I rebuked as I pulled up my jeans.

“I just wanted a bite. Here you have it.”

“No, it’s yours,” I said dejectedly as I got her a drink.

“No, I feel bad. Have half.”

“Fine.” I sat across from her and we ate. “Now, tell me the story.”

“Well,” she began, chewing, “you remember Ryan?”

“No, I don’t remember Ryan.”

“Ryan, the boy from college.”

“I’m going to need a little more to go on than that. There were a lot of boys from college.”

“I told you about how one night after watching a movie in a friend’s dorm, he and I crashed there on the sectional couch.”

“I vaguely recall that.”

“You just want me to tell you again.”

“Indulge me.”

“Well, we got to talking in hushed tones about sex.”

“And who initiated that topic?” I asked sarcastically.

“He was curious about my masturbatory practices,” she said, ignoring my question. “I told him that I jill it once a day – at least.”

“Oh yes, I remember that story now.”

“Well, there’s more to it than that. Come to the bedroom and I’ll tell you the rest.”

I followed her sexy ass to the bedroom, got naked, and climbed into bed with her.

She got on her back and spread her legs. Putting her hand down there, under the covers, she continued in breathy tones. “I was masturbating under the covers, like I am now, as I talked to him in the dark. I imagined that he was masturbating too. I asked him about his girlfriend – someone I didn’t really know. He said that he wasn’t too happy with her and I asked him why he didn’t break up with her. He said, ‘because she gives really good blowjobs.’ I said, ‘Oh yeah? Tell me how you like it.’ He told me about what she does, adding, ‘but I don’t think she really enjoys it.’”

Lo was pulling on her nipples now and squirming in the sheets.

“I was sad to hear that.”

“I’m sure you were broken up about it,” I added full of sarcasm.

“I told him, ‘You should try getting a blowjob from someone who really enjoys it.’”

“Did you give him one?”

“I really really wanted to.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“But he was too shy.”

“Too shy?!”

“Or something. Maybe he felt bad cause of the girlfriend. Whatever the reason, I didn’t get to give it to him. I just masturbated till I came. After that night, there were many nights when I’d be in my dorm, chatting on Facebook, and he’d pop up and quickly turn the chat into something sexual.”

“So you had virtual sex with him?”

“You could say that.”

“But that still doesn’t explain how you got the nickname.”

“I’m getting there. Give me a minute,” she said as she climaxed.

I waited for the waves of pleasure to subside.

She flipped over and lifted her ass up. “Fuck me, Daddy, and I’ll tell you the rest of the story.”

“Lo, you just blew me in the kitchen.”

“Come on! You can do better than that. Can’t you get it up again?”

Her belittling comments didn’t help the situation.

“Get behind me and fuck me,” she demanded.

I got behind her, but I wasn’t hard. She reached under the bed and passed me her glass dildo. “Use this for now,” she instructed. I slid the smooth, hefty sculpture into her slippery puss and she continued talking in spurts.

“He was a gamer and I think he told his nerdy friends about me. Soon they were inviting me over their dorm rooms to play with them. They each wanted me to jiggle their joysticks.”

“I bet they did.”

“They were all computer geeks and none of them had much sexual experience. Anyhow, I didn’t actually do anything with them.”

“Nothing?” I asked in disbelief.

“Not much, but they made up stories about me. They each claimed that they fucked me and so they began calling me the community chest, bragging that they each made a deposit.”

“And you let them get away with that?”

“Let them, I got off on it.”

All this time I was almost mechanically pushing and pulling the glass object in and out of her puss as she was backing up and pulling forward on her hands and knees. Now she said, “Harder, Daddy. Pay attention to what you’re doing!”

I tried to give more attention to her puss, but I had more questions for her. “So,” I asked, “what did you do with them?”

“Well,” she said, ramping up again, “like I said, they didn’t have much sexual experience and when I did try to blow one of them he. . .” she broke off and began her howling orgasm.

I pulled the dildo out from her and she squirted, involuntarily, all over the sheets. She thrust her hands between her legs, trying to stop the sprinkler, and she exclaimed, “Wow! I feel like a fucking Slip-n-Slide!”

“You’re more fun,” I said.

Collapsing in the bed when she was done, I brought a towel over and applied it between her legs and to the sheets. I asked her again, “What happened?”

“I squirted,” she said, annoyed at my ignorance.

“No, silly. I mean, what happened with the geek?”

“Oh, well, I was on my knees and I unzipped his pants, but when I opened up his fly, I saw that he had already cum. I said to him, ‘Let me blow you. You can take my tits out of my top and suck on them,’ but he was so embarrassed that he just zipped up and left.”

“And the thought of that made you cum just now?” I asked.

“No,” she said, “the thought of making all of his friends cum the night that I went over there to play video games and they watched me finger myself – that made me cum.”

“Tell me that story.”

“Another time, Daddio, when I actually have a shot of getting fucked by you,” she said, closing up shop for the day.

Clickbait

Posted on August 9, 2019 by Lola Down

“What’s there to eat in the fridge?” I call to her through the bathroom door. I had just gotten home from work and I was famished.

“Nothing,” she calls back as I hear the squeak of her opening the valves to take a shower.

“Nothing?! I saw a cucumber in the bottom right drawer.”

“Oh, that’s not for eatin’,” she says. “Come to think of it, will you bring it to me darling?”

Good grief. I get the green gourd from the fridge for her and a cold beer for me. I pass her the vegetable when she extends her hand through the narrow opening of the door.

“Can’t I see you?” I ask.

“No.”

“You do know that I’ve seen you naked before? Most of the internet has seen you naked before. Probably most of our neighbors have seen you naked before.”

“I have my shower cap on.”

“Oh, well then.”

The door shuts. I sit down to read and sip my beer and await her exit from the bathroom. And wait. And wait. After her repeated cries to God and profanities that I imagine were directed at her pleasure-bearing plant, I hear the waterspout squeak off.

Finally she emerges.

I whistle at her. “You look half as good in your clothes as you do out of them.”

“That’s insulting!”

“Would you prefer the opposite: You look twice as good in your clothes as you do out of them?”

“How about you just say I look fabulous.”

“You look fabulous, darling. And delicious. I had no dinner. Can I please eat you from bottom to top?”

“Oh, Daddy, I have to catch my breath,” she says, lying naked on the bed next to me.

“You do that and I’ll caress your snatch with my tongue.”

She puts her laptop over her shaved triangle and opens it up.

“Darling,” I ask, “what are you doing now?”

“Just checking some email and sprucing up some social media accounts.”

Dejected, I get up off the bed.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m taking off my work clothes and. . .”

“Getting naked?” she asks, licking her lips.

“If that would please you.”

“Will you lie next to me?”

“As you wish,” I say, somewhat sarcastically.

I sit next to her, reading my book as she scrolls through pages with her right hand. Her left hand is resting on my cock. It grows in her palm. I put down my book and turn on my side, rhythmically fucking her fist. Unconsciously, she allows it, but doesn’t enthusiastically respond to it. She’s engrossed in whatever it is she’s reading.

After a couple of moments, I look at what is on her screen. It’s a page of nearly naked women.

“What is that?” I ask.

“You’ve never seen a woman before?”

“Not until I laid eyes on you, darling.”

“Funny.”

“What is that page?” I ask with more specificity.

“Oh,” she says, “I created a Pinterest page.”

“I can’t help but notice, I’m nowhere on it.”

“Do you like it?”

“The pics of you, yes.”

Just as I was enjoying seeing her in the naked flesh next to me, and also her pixilated portrait resting just above her pink vulva on her laptop computer, she scrolls away from the page. And, to make matters worse, she removes her hand from my hard rod.

“Now what are you doing?” I ask.

“It’s well known that lists create web traffic and a fan asked me to list six facts about my body.”

“Clickbait,” I respond.

“You can call it that,” she says, but I think I’m the real bait. Clitbait, you might say.” She strokes her bean under the computer as she says it.

She returns her hand to the keyboard and writes:

Six Facts About My Body:

It is an instrument of pleasure.
It is a canvass for cum.
It inspires creativity.
It drives people crazy.
It drives me crazy.
I love it.

“Not bad,” I say.

She ignores my compliment because now she is engaged in answering emails.

One guy asks, “Who are you?”

“Cum and find out,” writes Lo, followed by, “Wait, reverse that.”

Another guy sends a dick pic. Lola tells him that if he is going to do that, he has to send one with her photo in the frame. He replies, “I don’t usually send dick pics.”

“I bet you say that to all the sluts,” she replies snidely.

I can see that she is getting excited. Her right hand moves to her chest and she pulls at her nipples, making them erect.

“Looks like you’re ready to give some pointers,” I say.

Another fan read the story, “Divine Destinies,” about Lo’s immaculately pure pink posterior flower. He wrote to Lo requesting some steamy chat, adding that, “I love to talk about dirty things.”

Lo, taking offense at this, replies, “Are you suggesting that the pinnacle of my success is ‘dirty’?”

“Lo,” I say, “turn over and I’ll take a pic of my tongue deeply penetrating your perineum and we’ll show him how you’re more beautiful than Charlene and Mr. Clean.”

She chuckles and asks, “How the hell do you know that song?”

“My brain isn’t as old as my body.”

“If by that mean you mean that you’re immature, then you’re right.”

“Roll over.”

She closes her laptop and I think I’m in luck, but then she takes out her phone. She does turn onto her tum and begins going through photos from fans. “I just need a little something to wet my whistle, if you know what I mean,” she says, as she puts her right hand down between her pussy lips and strokes, then, using that natural lubricant, moves to her porn star.

She passes me the phone and says, “Look what I found in my in-box!”

I, looking at both her boxes intently at that moment, take the phone from her.

“Read it aloud,” she says, “I’m all ears. . . and vagina.”

I see a long email from a fan, a woman named “Jen X.” It reads:

Lola,

You are a much curvier, sexier, more luscious version of Audrey Hepburn. Think about it, HH is Gregory Peck. And you, my dear friend Lo, you are a Princess.

You’re so innocent. He’s older than you. He’s a writer, a professor, a man of mind, body, soul and spirit. He’s brilliant. You are his muse. He is obsessed in the best possible way by you. You dominate his thoughts, his feelings, his emotions. You go further than he could possibly believe now…you’re so deep in his consciousness; as deep as his dick passionately penetrating the walls of your strong, shaking, quivering pussy.

Because of the way HH writes about you and your magnificent personality, I want you! I have a deep desire to have you pop my girl-on-girl cherry. However, HH has got to be there and ease us through it. I want him to watch us, jerk off, and then we both share his cum.

He just channels your soul’s sexiness, your perfect pair of tits, your sweet soft strong flexible box, and your behind. Your behind forces him to forget anything that isn’t about you. He loves not just looking at you, he loves to take you with his eyes. In his mind he is cumming into every atom of your being.

HH is a Voyeur. He’s a genius. And I have a crush on HH because I’m perfectly straight, yet I adore you Lo, I truly do, because you are one of the funniest, most caring, sexiest women in the world. I feel your sexiness and your body through HH and I want both of you!

I have never had a FFM. I’ve had two MMF trysts in real life, but the guys freaked out about touching each other. I’m not saying a need a bi male partner. I would love that, however, the way you yank me into your stories…WOW! I want to co-write a hot story of Lola introducing me to you. I believe this should be a gift from us to you.

Lola’s the hottest thing since fire! – classy, highbrow, but with a twisted, kinky, warped sense of humor. Imagine the Magical Kink Fest Lola and I could create for you.

HH, I need you to pitch your fantasy for this erotic project I’m co-creating with your sweet innocent lollipop licking Lola.

Let me know if you want my company in your bedroom or dungeon.

Kisses babes,

Jen X

As I read the lusty letter, Lo is having finger fun time between her legs and her feet are working in tandem to stroke my cock. The words are so poetic and prurient that I very nearly cum. Lo can feel it and she turns and says, over her shoulder, “I just got out of the shower. I didn’t wash my hair and I don’t intend to today. If you cum, don’t cum in my hair.”

“Do you think Audrey Hepburn ever said that to Gregory Peck?”

“Look, I aim to please, so please be sure to aim.”

Just as she says it, I take aim and hit my mark, right between her shoulder blades.

After I recoup, I get up and go to the bathroom to clean myself off. There, on the sink, is her giant cucumber. “Do you think this is still ok to eat?” I call to Lo.

“What, your cock?”

“Well that too, but I was referring to your veggie vagina filler.”

“Oh, I’m not done with it yet. Toss it here.”

I do so and I also return to the bedroom to get dressed.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks as she stuffs herself full of the jolly green giant.

“To the store to get something for dinner. Do you want anything?”

“How about an eggplant. This is not nearly enough to feed me.”

Wordless, Intimate Erotic Lovemaking

Posted on August 2, 2019 by Lola Down

You know, dear reader, not everything between Lola and me is hotwife, cuckold, chronic masturbation, fetish, bukkake, squirting, spanking, MILF lust, sadomasochistic, bestiality, giant dildo, public fucking, anal massage, strap-on, nymphet, perfect vulva, high heels porn, cockfest, ejaculation, climaxing crazy sex, lesbian sex machine, leaking pussy, ass fingering, self-pleasuring, jilling-off, Ben Wa Balls, thongs, giant cock, swollen vulva, candid cleavage, strippers, erotic boudoir, summer skirts, ass pounding, public pussy, sapphic lovers, sexy volleyball, legs spread, open crotch, love juice, naked beach volleyball, kneeling rosary beads, orgasm face, MILF parties, babysitter sex, men jerking off, nude art classes, wet panties, vibrators, leashes, short shorts, foot fetish, erotic indulgence, nympho in heat, gangbang, clit stroking, protruding nipples, exhibitionist teachers, negligee nympho, fisting, cunnilingus, wild poetry and naked reading, sucking cocks, bare mons pubis, tantric solo sessions, and horse cocks. (OK, I may have developed that list from the search terms people have used to find the blog.)

Sometimes, my voyeuristic companion, Lola and I just simply engage in wordless, intimate erotic lovemaking. Is that so hard to believe?

Take for instance the other night. It was a Tuesday or a Wednesday. There was nothing particularly special about it. We may have watched a movie or a couple of short comedies. We grew tired of lying on the couch decompressing from our busy workday and went to bed. The usual: brushing teeth, remove clothes, hop under covers.

I was tired. She was tired. I thought nothing would happen, but then she reached over and grabbed my package under the sheets and fondled until she achieved the desired result. She spread her legs, slapped her pussy twice, and said, “I’m open for business.”

I climbed on top of her and slowly slid the seat of my desire inside. She squeezed her breasts with her hands and said, “Suck my nipples, Daddy.”

I complied.

She moved her right hand down to her crotch and began stroking her clit in slow, vertical movements. I could feel the tip of her index finger on the base of my shaft. I could feel the knuckle in her finger up against my pelvis. I could feel her wrist bent just under my bellybutton each time I thrust.

She slowly moved from her clit into her chamber. Her finger was noodling up the length of my rod, trying to make its way to her G-spot. I felt her getting deeper, crowding me for space. Then she inserted her middle finger as well. The two fingers worked in tandem. I could feel the knuckles on the top of my cock and the fingertips at the tip of my cock. She had reached the spot. She masturbated as I fucked.

“There,” she said, as if to me, but really as if to say, “Yes, my fingers, there is the goal of your journey.”

She came, a quiet, deep moaning orgasm. Her pussy clenched then loosened. She inserted the rest of her fingers of her right hand to make up for the slack. Then she grabbed the other side of her pussy with her left hand and I could feel all eight fingertips like some sort of sea anemone wiggling and wriggling inside her, flowing with the waves. She pulled the side walls of her cunt apart with her hands so wide that I no longer felt anything.

“Daddy, do you think that if I spread myself like this as a gang of men surrounded me, that each one of them could go in me, cum, and then let the next one in?”

It was a bizarre question. It didn’t quite make sense, but since when does sex make sense? The imagery was vivid enough for me to do just that – cum inside her gaping hole.

“I love you, Daddy,” she said.

“And I’m balls-deep in love with you.”

OK, so I lied. I don’t know if we ever actually do have wordless, intimate erotic lovemaking. But, so what? I like it and so does she.

Lovelorn, Loveporn

Posted on July 23, 2019 by Lola Down

Finally a moment to relax. Some time to myself. A quiet interval to read for enjoyment before sweet sleep. I was deep into the Bukowski’s Notes of a Dirty Old Man, appropriately enough. As I tried to enjoy one of the short stories about a dissolute life, Lo lay next to me, naked, her legs spread, diddling her bean, clearly looking for attention. She spread her legs wider, putting her left leg up and over my legs. She inserted her finger and moaned. No response from me. She spread her legs even further until her left knee hit the cover of my book, knocking it out of my hands. She dipped all five fingers into her gaping pleasure patch.

“Hey,” I said, “watch it!”

“Clearly you’re not interested in watching,” she retorted.

“Is there something I can do for you?”

“Probably not,” she replied, cursorily, as she continued to fap with her five fingers.

“Then may I read in peace?”

“Why do you want to read now?” she asked.

“Well,” I said with some snark, “right now, I feel like it gives me a leg up, if you know what I mean.”

She raised her leg even further, across my chest.

“Watch out, dear,” I said, “you’re spreading yourself a bit thin there.”

“Thin?! Thin?! I’m a proudly thick woman,” she said.

“Look,” I said, “if you want me, then just use your words and ask for me to fuck you.”

“I shouldn’t need my words,” she said as she pulled out her fingers from her puss, “I’m using sign language.”

“And I’m using my ability to read lips.”

“See, we don’t even need words,” she said, “we can communicate perfectly well with body language.”

I got on my knees, pulled down my boxers, pulled out my hard cock and asked, “What does this body language express to you?”

“Everything I want to know,” she said, “now dip your pen in my wet well and write your poetry all over me, you dirty old man.”

Sexercise

Posted on July 10, 2019 by Lola Down

“Fuck! I hope that never happens again!” she blurted out as she entered the house.

I had been quietly sitting on the couch, perched in my usual spot, writing, when she burst in with a flare for the dramatic.

“What happened?” I inquired, merely raising an eyebrow.

“Get in the bedroom and I’ll tell you.”

That can only mean one thing.

I saved my work, closed my laptop, and followed her to the bedroom. By the time I got there she was already naked, her legs spread wide, her right hand slapping her pussy with a small splash.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked impatiently.

“I came as fast as I could,” I said as I began removing my clothes.

“Well, don’t cum as fast as you can now if you want to hear what I have to tell you.”

I slid into her already lubricated puss and she let out a gasp of relief.

“Am I wet, Daddy?” she asked.

“A juice box,” I said. “What is going on?”

She didn’t speak immediately. She was enjoying the ride. Her hands had moved to her sides and she was pulling her ass cheeks, spreading herself as wide as she could go.

“Can you feel me?” she asked.

“Almost not at all. Like fucking a bathtub full of warm water.”

That was enough to bring her to a mild squirting orgasm as her puss gently gurgled, soaking me, the bed, and her ass.

“Harder, Daddy. Faster.”

“If you tell me what’s going on, I’ll fuck you like a jackhammer.”

I sped up my rhythm and increased my force.

“That’s it,” she said, her eyes shut. “I’m so wet. So fucking wet.”

“I can tell,” I said, “but not for me I bet.”

“I was at the gym,” she began, as the scene played out before her shut eyes, “in my grey yoga pants.” She paused.

“Yes,” I said, bringing her back to the here-and-now.

“And I was on the adductor machine, working on my inner thighs when I noticed the guy in front of me. He was doing pull ups directly in my line of sight. Unconsciously I was watching his body go up and down while I was working my legs. Then I noticed that I was watching him – his bulging biceps, the ripples of his shoulders, his broad chest. His shirt was short, so I could see his abs, and then I looked a little lower and saw just how huge his cock was. Every time he went up and down, I was spreading and then clenching my legs together. I became self-conscious of what I was doing and looked up to see if he noticed me. Our eyes met for a moment and then. . .”

She climaxed again; this time much harder than before.

When she regained her composure, I asked, “And then what happened.”

“Daddy, it’s too embarrassing!”

“What?”

“As I was spreading my legs, completely involuntarily and without warning I. . .” she trailed off.

“You what?”

“I came. I squirted. I felt myself drenching my yoga pants until they were dripping. And he saw it all! I immediately closed my legs together and pretended to take a sip from my water bottle and somehow made it look like I had spilled it on my lap. I ran out of there as fast as I could! Oh my God! I can never go back there again!!!”

As she told me this, I had slowed and almost stopped thrusting, I was so engrossed in her story. But then she rebuked me. “Don’t stop. Come on. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me up.”

“Lo,” I said apologetically, “I can’t even feel you, you’re so wet.”

“Forget it!” she commanded, angry at me.

She pulled away so I slid out of her. She reached under the bed, grabbed her horse-cock dildo and said, “You can watch, if you want, but I need something that’s going to really fill me up.”

She stuck it to the headboard of the bed and backed into it as I was on my knees in front of her, stroking my cock.

“Are you thinking of him?” I asked as she thrusted back into the cock vigorously with her eyes closed.

“Yes,” she said honestly.

“You think he’d fill you like that?”

“Yes,” she said.

I could see that I may have been distracting her from whatever fantasy was playing out in her mind, so I continued with my masturbatory movements in silence as I watched her tits hang down and rock back and forth, thinking about what that guy must have thought of her in the gym. Suddenly I came, shooting my pent-up love all over her face. It was a surprise to her because her eyes were still shut. When she realized what I had done, it sent her into a violent hysterical paroxysm, the likes of which I had not seen in a very long time.

Her arms spread forward and her body bowed down making a “Downward Dog” movement as her cunt clenched the long, thick cock behind her.

When she regained consciousness, she said, “Maybe I’m just not made for city life. Maybe I’m meant to keep in shape by working on the farm.”

Sun-Kissed

Posted on July 3, 2019 by Lola Down

A July vacation at a beach house for a week can be the perfect antidote to all of your problems. Unless that vacation is a family reunion and the beach house is for thirty people. And among those thirty people are married dads in their forties and fifties who are in good shape. And your girlfriend is Lo. Then, you might have ninety-nine problems, but Lo is the only one you have to really worry about.

That was the case this week. Every seven years or so my extended family decides that we should make a pilgrimage from all the corners of the globe, rent one enormous house on the beach with enough bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate us all, and stay under one roof for seven days straight. We have been doing this for a few decades now, but we hadn’t had one of these since I started dating Lola.

She hadn’t met most of my family – only heard about them through various stories I told her and, to be fair, with thirty of them, I doubt that she really could tell one from the other without having met them in person. But this week, right in the middle of July, we were all going to be up-close and personal with each other. Foolishly, I hadn’t thought of warning her prior to our departure. This was my family. Did I need to warn her? Apparently so.

You see, if I do say so myself, I come from a very good looking family. My brothers and sisters and my cousins have certain family features in common – features that drive Lo wild. I’d even venture to say that, of the lot of us, I am probably the least physically attractive. My male relatives all have strong-cut jaws, expressive eyes, and the classic broad shoulder tapering to a thin waist. They are very health conscious, for many of them were athletes even through college. My female relatives share many of the same good genes that have preserved their looks into midlife. And they are married to rather attractive spouses.

Throw into this mix of middle-age men – all walking around topless, biking, kayaking, swimming, cooking, and being dads to their respective kids – a twenty something nymphomaniac with daddy issues wearing a skimpy bikini and you have just brought all sorts of wrath down upon your head. Such was my lot for a week.

It began innocently enough. We were on the beach with a few of my cousins. The sun was blazing and the waves were rough and tumble. We had our boogie boards with us and, after a beer, Lo said she wanted to ride the waves with me. We grabbed the boards and went into the refreshing water, waded out past the crashing waves and waited for the right moment. As we were out there, Lo turned to me and said, “Daddio, I’m so wet!”

“We’re in the ocean, Lo. Of course you’re wet,” I replied.

“I don’t mean like that,” she said with a devilish grin.

Before I could respond, a wave came and soon she and I were soaring towards the shore atop the white crest of the surf. Conditions were just right for multiple sorties. She looked happy, like a little girl. I had never seen her see so happy. She was grinning from ear-to-ear. What I didn’t realize, since I was next to her for most of the wet-n-wild rides, was that each and every time we caught a wave and were carried in atop the undulating surge, Lo’s bikini top would be pushed downward and, each and every time she stood up from the excursion, her breasts were popping out, wet and glistening in the sun for all my cousins to see.

I only found out about this later, when, back in the house, she got naked in the bathroom with me to take a shower. “Are you mad, Daddy?” she asked.

“Why would I be mad?” I said as I saw her perfectly tanned body before me.

“Because of my ‘accidents’ at the beach.”

“What accidents?” I asked, naively.

Then she told me about her struggles with keeping her top on her tits.

We got in the shower together and washed each other down with body-soap. It was one of those large shower/hot tubs that had a comfortable seat to sit. I told Lo to sit down below me and spread her legs. She did so, mistakenly thinking that I was going to put my cock in her mouth. She opened up to receive me, but, instead, I took aim and let lose, releasing the golden stream formed from the many beers I had had on the beach. She relished in the warm stream I doused her in, covering her tits and tum, puss and feet. When I was good and done, she pulled my hand down and reversed positions with me and, putting one foot up on the ledge, she took aim and allowed me to get it just as good as I gave it.

Then she got down on her knees on the floor of the shower and took my hard cock in her mouth, fondling my balls with her right hand as her left rested on my knee. Her long, wet, dark hair bobbed up and down under the stream of the shower. She wanted me to cum, that was clear. She worked hard to earn my ejaculatory appreciation, but I denied her the satisfaction of completion. Before she got lockjaw, we got out of the shower and dried off.

She bent over the bed, her ass beckoning me. It was my turn to get on my knees and worship her tumescent pussy lips with my tongue. She tasted sweet and I wanted more. I buried the tip of my tongue as deep as it would go in her cunt and then in her ass and back again and again. She came multiple times, her cum dripping down the sides of my mouth and saturating my beard as it streamed down my neck onto my chest. I delighted in making her so wet. Due to the cramped living quarters, she had to bite her lower lip and swallow her orgasmic screams. She buried her head in the pillow to moan and groan.

At some point I heard the sound of a radio playing from the pool area outside our window. AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” was narrating the scene.

She was a fast machine,

She kept her motor clean

They sang as I licked the smooth mons pubis of Lo from behind. She could take it no longer and she crawled forward on the bed like a wounded soldier out of the heat of battle. She rolled over, exhausted already, and spread her listless legs.

She was the best damn woman that I’d ever seen.

I slid in her pussy with my aching rod and, honestly, I couldn’t feel a thing. Just wet. So wet. At the very instant of my shaft lodging deep inside her, she came in waves – waves like those of the ocean that we were riding just a little while earlier. After her quick climax, she was suddenly filled with new energy. She rolled me over onto my back and slid her wet slit down the length of my solid pole, kneeling on top of me as she pulled and pinched her nipples. I grabber by her hips and rocked her forward and back, slishing and sliding over my hips.

She had a certain size,

Telling me no lies,

Knocking me out with those American thighs.

She came again. Again, all I could feel was wetness cascading down upon me.

She dropped her head down to bite on my neck and then she slid off of my rod slowly as her tongue slid down my chest, over my abs, eventually resting at my cock. She took it all in her mouth and down the back of her throat.

Taking more than her share,

She had me fighting for air,

She told me to cum, but I was already there.

I filled her with my pent-up power. But she wasn’t done – no, not by a longshot.

She wanted no applause,

Just another course,

Made a meal out of me,

And came back for more.

Had to cool me down

To take another round,

Now I’m back in the ring

To take another swing!

She licked and sucked, bobbed up and down, and opened wide for my balls – everything and anything she could do to get me back up and hard again. When she finally succeeded, she lowered herself slowly on me once more and grabbed me, letting her nipples gently touch mine as she let her body become enfolded in mine. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.

From her state of delirium, she began whispering in my ear.

“You know,” she said in a hushed tone, “I think your family likes me.”

“I’m sure they do,” I said.

“I mean, especially your brothers. They really like me.”

“I think they really liked what they saw.”

“And I liked what I saw.”

“What was that?” I asked as I felt her excitement increasing with the taboo things coming out of her mouth. I slowly moved my hands from her back to her thighs, to her ass cheeks, and then I pulled them, spread them, and placed my index finger on her special spot.

“They’re so built,” she said enthusiastically, “so mature.”

“You mean old.”

“Not old.”

“Older than me.”

“Yeah, but in such good shape.”

“I see,” I said, knowing where she was going. . . and liking it.

“And so big.”

“Big?” I asked as I entered her ass with my finger.

“Their cocks. Their balls. Wearing a Speedo. . .”

She couldn’t finish her thought. She was cumming and cumming harder than any of the previous times. My finger was deep inside her and I could feel her clenching up on it and releasing multiple times.

When she was done, all orgasms finally brought to fruition and her body exhausted, she said to me, “That last orgasm, it felt just like I was riding that boogie board. It felt like I was riding that wave, topless, the sea carrying me, lifting me, thrilling me, covering me with spume and salt and sun.”

“Did you cum when you were out there?”

“I think I might have, a little bit.”

“You really are a nymph, fucked by Poseidon himself.”

“In the Next Room”

Posted on June 29, 2019 by Lola Down

Mark and Stephanie came over for appetizers before we all were going to go to see a play. Lo had planned this night for the four of us months ago. She was very excited because the play was one that she had heard great things about and she thought that Mark and Stephanie were just the couple to invite to it. My guess was that she had designs on Mark and was hoping to get him into a showdy corner of the dark theater and play a little herself. But what actually happened was way beyond my wildest imaginings.

Lo, as is her practice of primping and prepping, spent most of that lovely summer Friday afternoon cleaning up the house for our guests, making a special dip, stocking the bar, adorning the small tables with bouquets of flowers, and then hopping into the shower. I, for my part, cracked open a beer and watched Lo do all this work in her panties and bra. I hope you, dear reader, don’t get the wrong idea about me. I’d be more than happy to chip in with the chores, but Lo is such a perfectionist that I have learned the hard way over time that it’s best to leave it to her.

As I sat on the living room couch, I heard what could only be described as Lo’s mating call, if mating occurred for her the way it does for komodo dragons, that is, through parthenogenesis, or without the need of a male. Yes, this is a very long-winded way of saying that Lo was fucking herself in the shower with one of her many dildos and calling, to God, to me, to anyone, with her distinctive, “OH GOD! YES! FUCK! YES! YES! YES! YES!” Not quite as poetic as the final paragraph of Joyce’s Ulysses, but the same sentiment. When she got out of the shower and found me sitting on the bed, I wasn’t the only one who was long-winded. She was panting for air since her hot, steamy shower only added to the heavy, humid air of our apartment.

“Thinking of Mark?” I asked snidely.

“Mark, Mike, Matthew, Milton, it doesn’t matter.”

“Allow me to rephrase. Thinking of dick?”

“Many, many dicks,” she said.

I got up off the bed to spank her bottom as she was bending over the sink to wipe down the mirror when I caught a glance into the tub and saw it was populated with not one, but four dildos!

“What the hell did you need four dildos for in there? You only have three orifices to fill.”

“I like to feel wanted,” she said as she set out to blow dry her hair.

“How many times did you cum?”

“Three or four or five.”

“Seriously?”

“No, deliriously. I used different dildos for different holes and different sorts of orgasms. I used this one,” she said, pointing at the one that was stuck to the tile wall by its suction cup base, “for my puss. Then I added this one in my ass,” she said, indicating her large red double-ended dildo. “And then I used that same one on both my ass and my puss before I used this one,” she said pointing to the horse cock dildo on the floor of the tub.

“What about that one?” I asked, pointing to the black dildo we call “Tommy gun” because it looks like a little machine gun the way the ball sack is attached to it.

“Oh, that one I just held in my hand for fun. You know my motto.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Be happy: jill off, jill often.”

“Well, you’d better clean up your bathtub toys before our guests arrive.”

“Why, were they planning on taking a bath?”

“You never know.”

“That would be fun.”

“I bet you’d like that. But, remember, Mark hasn’t had sex with Stephanie in over a year now.” We knew this from what Stephanie had told me at their Super Bowl party.

“First, that’s not due to any deficiency on his part. And second, even if it was, I know I could help him. I’m a cock whisperer.”

“I think you still aim to ‘help’ him,” I said, knowing that Lo is terribly attracted to Mark.

“So,” she responded, “Why do you think I have so many dildos in the tub? I like to get men hard. I like them to desire me. I like to be what gets them up in the morning and what gives them sweet dreams at night. I want to be a vessel into which men drain their lust.”

“Everyone but the shoemaker’s wife,” I said under my breath.

“What?” she asked as she slipped into her dress.

“Everyone except the shoemaker’s wife,” I said more loudly.

“What the fuck does that mean?” she asked.

I responded, “You have to clean up your language, young lady.”

“Fine, I’ll clean it up. I’ll take out every word except ‘fuck.’”

“You know what I mean.”

“Fuck?”

“Stop it.”

“Fuck fuck.”

“You’re being vulgar.”

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“OK, I’ll play your game. What do you want to do tonight?”

“Fuck.”

“I bet you do. Fuck Mark. Like I said, everyone except the shoemaker’s wife.”

“That’s the third time you said that, now tell me what the fuck it means before I shove this shoe up your ass!” she demanded as she held her high heel in her hand.

“It’s a saying. Everyone gets a new pair of shoes except the shoemaker’s wife. The shoemaker never gets to her because he’s so busy making the shoes for everyone else.”

“And what does that have to do with us?”

“You’re the shoemaker. Everyone gets to drain their lust into you but me.”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she said, feigning playing the violin for me. “You get more than you can handle. Nine out of ten times you deny me. That’s why this shoemaker has to go all around town like the prince letting everyone try on Cinderella’s slipper.”

“Now this metaphor has jumped the shark.”

“Look, if you want some of this,” she said, slapping her pussy over her dress, “all you have to do is ask for it, or better yet, take it!”

“I want it!” I said, lifting up her dress and noticing that she hadn’t put on panties.

“Not now! They’ll be here in a minute or two.”

“I only need thirty seconds. You know that.”

“And people say romance is dead.”

At that moment the doorbell rang. I went to go answer it and Lo called to me and said, “Tell them I’ll be right out. Oh, and put the chips out and the dip. Oh, and can you turn on the Bluetooth speaker to some up-beat music?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to remember all I was supposed to do.

I took out the chips and dip, grabbed Lo’s phone and pulled up Spotify, and turned on the speaker so it played in the living room. Then I let in Mark and Stephanie.

I invited them into the living room and we sat down. “Lo will be right out,” I said as we made polite conversation.

They looked very dapper, all dressed up for the theater. She was wearing cute flats, tight jeans, and a very sheer white top. She doesn’t have very big breasts, but they are perky and she has a cute bob haircut. He was in nice jeans, leather shoes, and a tight fitting black t-shirt under a blazer. It was a dated, slightly “Miami Vice” look, but he can be forgiven since he is from Miami after all.

I offered them drinks and they both gladly elected for the harder stuff, passing over the beer and wine. I was surprised. Before theater events I find I can’t have anything too strong, except coffee, lest I pull a Jack Nicolson and fall asleep during the performance and begin snoring.

As I was entering with drinks in hand, Lo made her stunning appearance. I had seen her little, short black dress, but to see her with the sexy, shiny black heels, her full makeup on, and that smile of hers was really something. I wondered if she was still commando or if she had elected to wear panties. Ah, those perennial philosophical questions that I ponder in my life with Lo.

We sat in the living room talking since we had plenty of time before we had to leave for the play and somehow the conversation turned to the topic of tattoos. I pointed out that neither Lo nor I have any tattoos and we were discussing what and where we’d get them if we chose to do so.

“Do you have any tattoos?” asked Lo of both of them, but she touched Mark’s arm as she asked it.

“Lo, don’t you remember? – We went to the beach with them. I didn’t see any tattoos on either of them,” I interjected.

“Actually,” Mark said, “I do have a tattoo.”

“Na-ah,” said Lo in disbelief, grabbing his arm. “Where?”

“Well, I’m actually not too proud of it.”

“Come on,” she said. “Where?” she asked, turning to Stephanie for a hint.

“There,” said Stephanie, pointing at his crotch.

“Na-ah,” said Lo again. “On his. . . ?”

“No,” said Mark. “Not on it. Just above it.”

“What is it, I have to know,” said Lo.

“If you’re that curious, I’ll show you,” said Mark, standing up and moving to undo his belt buckle, but obviously joking. But Lo didn’t take it as a joke.

“Really?!” she said, the word escaping her mouth faster than her brain realized what she had said and with how much enthusiasm she had said it.

“No,” said Mark. “You don’t really want me to show you, do you?”

Lo unwittingly licked her lips and nodded her head “Yes.”

“Fine,” said Mark, “I’ll show you.” He actually unbuckled his belt.

I suddenly got up and said, “I’m going to refresh my drink. Can I get anyone anything?”

I was met with no answer. I looked at the tableau. There was Lo on the couch on one side of Mark, her head directly level with his pelvis, looking intently. Mark was standing, undoing his belt buckle, a big smile on his face. And Stephanie was sitting on the other side of Mark, almost unable to see the action, her legs crossed, a slight frown on her lips, watching her husband’s movements in front of this woman who was over ten years her junior.

I was in the kitchen and I suddenly heard Lo’s admiring voice coo, “Wow! Impressive!”

When I returned to the living room, Mark was buckling up his belt.

“So, why an eagle?” asked Lo, now touching his knee.

“I was in college, I was drunk, and I thought that. . . now this is really embarrassing.”

“Out with it,” demanded Lo.

“I was into the symbolism of spirit animals and I felt that the eagle was my spirit animal and this,” he said, running his hand across the top of his pelvis, “was the seat of my spirit.”

Lo did her best not to giggle and to really stroke his ego (though she wanted to stoke something else, I’m sure). But then she said abruptly, “Oh, fuck, I forgot, I have to send a quick email for work.”

I was confused and I saw her grab her phone and scurry off. “I’ll be right back. Just five minutes. Promise. I just have to take care of this little bit of business.”

OH! I thought, Is that what she’s up to now. You see, “TCB – Taking Care of Business,” is our little code for her masturbating. That’s what she texts me when she can’t come to the phone because she’s busy cumming to something else.

And just as quickly as that revelation hit me, a second, more menacing one alighted, “She took her phone. Oh, shit!”

But that second realization was just a bit too late in arriving. She must have already gotten into the bedroom or bathroom, took down her panties, if she was wearing any at all, and already found a dirty little video to watch because suddenly the music on the Bluetooth speaker switched to the sounds of two (or more) people fucking. Yes. Right there in the living room, the pornographic soundtrack filled the air like an ambient disembodied orgiastic orchestra.

“Ha ha,” I fumbled, “must be a random connection crossing paths with our wireless.” I jumped to shut off the speaker and couldn’t find the confounded button fast enough! Finally, in the awkward silence, we sat just sort of looking at each other as I struggled to fill the air that was now devoid of sex sounds but pregnant with nothing. Small talk into the void, I thought, not finding the words that would penetrate those deafening drawn out moments of muted embarrassment. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, that shriek of Lo’s climax cut the stillness with “Oh FUCK!”

“I’ll just go to check to make sure everything’s ok,” I said, in haste to remove myself not only from the living room, but, if possible, from the continent.

“LO!” I whispered as I entered the bedroom and found her with her dress up over her waist, one of her dildos up her crotch, on hand manipulating it as her other held her phone as she was kneeling on the bed. She scampered to make it look like she wasn’t up to no good, but there was no evading her shenanigans.

“What?!” she angrily asked, also in a whisper.

“They heard you. They heard everything.”

“What?”

“Yes. The porn, the orgasm, all of it. Now, put your toy down and get out here. Oh, and make up some sort of an excuse.”

I returned to our guests, looking as if nothing was wrong and said, “Oh, Lo just, er, dropped her computer on her foot.”

“Is she ok?” asked Stephanie, seeing right through the ruse.

“Oh yeah,” I said, waiving my hand as if to say, nothing to worry about.

No sooner had I done that than Lo came out, in her heels, smiling, and she said, “Sorry about that, I just found out that something terrible happened at work.”

“How’s your foot?” asked Stephanie.

“My foot?” asked Lo, perplexed. “Fine.”

“We were all worried,” I said, “about the computer you dropped on it.”

“Computer I. . .” she began.

If I could have stepped on her foot to give her the hint, I would have, but as it was, I think my eyes were saying everything.

“Oh yeah,” said Lo, “my foot’s fine. Just a little bruise,” she said. “Will you rub it?” she asked me as she sat on the couch and took off her heel and put her foot up on my lap.

“I thought you rubbed it.” I said, accusatorily.

“Oh, I did. I did rub it, but it still hurts,” she said. “It needs more rubbing,” she added, and I could just hear her saying, “Daddio,” but she kept that to herself, thankfully.

She shook her foot, as if to demand my attention, and I said, “Wasn’t it your other foot Lo?” just to mess with her.

“No, silly,” she said, “I think I know which foot I dropped my computer on.”

So I began caressing her foot. We all continued our little chat, but this time without any ambient music.

Eventually it was time to go and we went to see the play.

Prior to that evening, I had no idea what the play was about. I hadn’t even heard of it. But ever since, that play has been etched into my mind. In brief, it is the story of a late 19^th century doctor who treats women with hysterical paroxysms. He used to induce them digitally, but now he has discovered this newly invented medical device that uses the also newly invented technology of electric power. The device? A vibrator! The wife, who is sexually frustrated, becomes curious about this mystery treatment and uses it on herself, to her delight. I won’t give too much of the wonderful story away here, lest you, dear reader, go to see it – which I highly recommend.

But for the four of us to see that play together, well, I can only surmise that this was the scheming of Lo’s cunning mind. For, as you know by now, Stephanie and Mark have been struggling with rekindling the sexual spark in their marriage. In many respects, they may have felt like they were watching their relationship play out on stage.

Lo’s little foreplay at home may have been an elaborate prelude to the main event. A little masturbatory appetizer for our guests, only in order to fete them with a full course meal of onanistic explorations. During the performance, Lo was squirming in her seat as she sat, very conveniently and strategically between me and Mark.

At intermission, Stephanie pulled Lo aside, leaving Mark and me to get drinks at the crowded bar. I was thankful for the distraction, for I honestly didn’t know what to say to him. When we did have a moment of awkward interaction, he asked, “What do you think of the play?”

I answered, “Wonderful, wonderful,” ambiguously.

“I can see what Lo likes about it,” he said, just as ambiguously.

“What wouldn’t she like about it?” I asked rhetorically.

Just then the ladies returned and the lights flashed off and on indicating time to return to our seats.

The final act was a very satisfying one, especially if Mark and Stephanie saw themselves in the main characters. After the final curtain came down, Mark and Stephanie said hasty goodbyes, claiming they had to get home to relieve the babysitter. But who knows what the actual cause of their haste was.

When Lo and I were alone, I rebuked her for her bad behavior.

“Are you angry, Daddy?” she asked.

“Lo, why did you give in to your carnal desires when we had guests? Were you just prepping them for the play or were you too much in lust after seeing Mark unzip his pants for you?”

A couple getting off to “Match, Cinder & Spark” and mysexlifewithlola.com together

“A little from column A,” she said, “and a little from column B.”

“More like a lot from column B,” I added. “What exactly did you see?”

“Not enough, Daddy. Not nearly enough.”

I’m Your Bitch

Posted on June 28, 2019 by Lola Down

We were out on a double date with Mark and Stephanie. Despite, or perhaps because of, Lo’s slutty ways, especially around Mark, they invited us out again after the beach experience. They had hired a sitter for their kids and this time it was just the four of us at a local restaurant. Because it was so crowded that Friday night, we took the first table we could get – a high-top in the bar area.

Lo was wearing her sexy little black skirt and heels with a neon blue blouse that had one too many buttons undone, revealing her cleavage and part of her lace bra. She was sitting kitty-corner to Mark, and when she laughed, she would put her hand on his forearm, his knee, or touch his bicep. She did this in a friendly, yet flirtatious way.

After the day at the beach with them, there was no way they would be surprised by this. I was wondering to myself if they were actually interested in propositioning Lo, or both me and Lo, but were too inhibited to come out and say it.

If Lo was trying to get me jealous with her fawning over Mark, she was doing a good job of it. Usually I’m not the jealous type – especially not with a hotwife like Lo. But Mark was too perfect. He was smart – a teacher in fact – and handsome, he worked out at the gym and was in tip-top shape, he had a perfect smile, and he was about four inches taller than I. As if that wasn’t enough, Lo was perpetually reminding me of how large his cock is, as she ascertained through his pants and his bathing suit. If he had any flaws that made his wife not want all that every night, I was unaware of them. To make matters worse, Lo kept on inquiring of him about his personal habits. “How do you stay so fit? How do you keep in such great shape?” she asked, as she rubbed her hand down from his broad shoulder to his elbow.

He, for his part, was lapping it up. He went on and on about his workout routine as Lo licked her lips just imagining it.

What Stephanie felt or thought during this, I don’t know, but in order to avoid any bad feelings, I inquired of Stephanie how her work was going and how the kids were doing. It was boring polite dinner talk. I really wanted to blurt out and ask her, “What do you think of my little slut making moves on your hunky husband?”

However, all this flirtatious frivolity came to a screeching halt when Julie approached our table. Julie is a woman who moved to our neighborhood recently and has earned the ire of Lo. She is just about Lo’s age with a teenage son, which means that she must have been pregnant when she was about 16. She’s single and she gives Lo a run for her money. She’s tall and has an All-American look about her that says she’s nothing but innocent sweets and smells of apple pie. She uses this to her advantage in order to charm every guy she meets. She hasn’t spoken more than the casual hello to Lo (or any other woman in the neighborhood), but will go out of her way to chat up any of the men on our block.

How Lo Pictures Mark out to eat with Stephanie

Julie happened into the restaurant alone, but I doubt she planned to leave it that way. Seeing us – or rather, seeing me – she approached and gave me a warm hug hello with a kiss on the cheek. To the other three, she merely waived and flashed her sparkling whites at them. I felt Lo kick me hard in the shin under the table. I was glad of it. After all the torment she had given me thus far that evening, it was my chance to return the favor.

Though Julie was only going to say hi, I asked what brought her to that restaurant that night. She said that her son was at a sleepover and that she just felt like getting out. Much to Lo’s silent consternation, I insisted that Julie join us and get to know Mark and Stephanie. At first Julie declined the invite, but I insisted.

“I couldn’t possibly. There’s not enough room at this table,” she said.

“Nonsense. I’ll make room for you right here,” I said, sliding my stool over and grabbing another one for Julie so that she was very cozy between me and Mark.

Lo’s eyes were shooting ICBM warheads at me. Ha!

Despite Lo’s displeasure, the addition of Julie really helped the evening’s conversation. The awkward pairing of Lo and Mark trading googly eyes at each other while Stephanie and I tried to pretend like nothing was happening was disrupted by Julie’s asymmetrical addition. Now Lo was forced to pay attention to me at the expense of her romantic overtures to Mark. I enjoyed that very much.

The night came to an early end for us because Lo insisted she had to get home “at a decent hour” in order to prepare for some fictitious event. When I began to express perplexity at this excuse, I received another swift kick to my other shin. I wasn’t sure how I’d walk home on those two injured legs of mine.

As soon as we were out of the restaurant, Lo stormed off at a brisk pace ahead of me.

“What?” I asked insincerely innocent.

Silence.

“Lo, come on. Slow down and talk to me. What’s the matter?”

“You know very well what’s the matter,” she said from ten feet in front of me.

“No I don’t. What’s the matter? Come on? Please slow down.”

She waited for me.

“Oh, Julie, there’s plenty of room for you. You can come here and sit on my lap,” she said in a mocking manner.

“I did not say that.”

“Whatever.”

“Does it upset you?”

We had just arrived at our apartment. We got inside. She went right to the bedroom and got naked.

“Mmmmm, you look good,” I said.

“This,” she said, sliding her hands over her sexy body, “is not for you.”

“I suppose it’s for Mark,” I responded.

“It’s for anyone except you,” she said curtly.

I got naked and into bed and she slid under the covers next to me and shut out the nightstand light.

From the darkness I heard, “Daddy, do you like her?”

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“Julie?”

“Yeah, Julie, that slut.”

“Careful Lo, ‘slut’ is a compliment in your book.”

“Only for me. And you’re only for me. You hear me?”

“Yes, Lo, I hear you.”

She reached down and grabbed my cock and began rubbing it. “This is mine. You got that?”

“Yes Lo.”

I was getting hard. She dove under the covers and began sucking my cock. When she reemerged, she asked, “Do you want me?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Well get behind me and fuck me.”

I did as she commanded. She was wet and willing. She came within seconds of penetration.

“Why do you want me?” she asked when she caught her breath.

“Because Lo, I’m like a dog. If you reach down between my hind quarters and fondle me and suck me till I’m hard, I’m going to want you.”

That had her cumming again.

“Either I get to have you,” I said, “or I’m going to be left painfully hard-up and full of liquid desire for you.”

She loves the thought of me (or men) suffering physical anguish in the groin for her sweet release. This made her climax a third time.

“Cum in me. Use me. That’s what I’m here for. You don’t need anyone else. Just me and my cunt. Fuck me, you horny dog.”

I did as she commanded, filling her full of my froth.

She fell forward and I cuddled her.

“Daddy, do you love me?”

“So much,” I said.

“Then why do you make me so jealous?”

“Honestly Lo, it’s just to reassure me that I’m still your favorite. I don’t mind sharing you, but I do really fear losing first place to someone else.”

“Daddy, you’re silly. You know that more than half the reason I flirt with other guys is because I want you to fuck me fiercely. I want you to fight for me and subdue me with your cock. Make me know that you’re my Daddy.”

Hearing her talk like that got me hard all over again and so I mounted her again and asked her what she was.

“I’m your bitch. I’m your horny, slutty, dirty bitch.”

Beach Bum

Posted on June 27, 2019 by Lola Down

“Was I bad, Daddy?”

“Yes.”

“Am I a slut?”
“Yes.”

“Then fuck me like one.”

Earlier that day, dear reader, we had gone to the beach with our friends Stephanie and Mark. They’re a married couple in their 30’s, they have a couple of young kids, suburban house, everything – a quaint picture of domestic bliss. Then you throw Lo into the mix and, well, you’ll see what unfolds (or unzips).

Stephanie is a work acquaintance of mine who has her office down the hall. Every so often she texts me little notes like, “Lunch today?” followed by a winkface, a smileyface, or some other emoticon that drives Lo crazy! Lo is convinced she has the hots for me. But it’s hard to stay seated atop her high horse when she is just as often on her knees in front of a different man. As you shall soon discover, Lo was in for a dénouement all her own. Lo, it so turns out, has more than your casual fondness for Mark. In fact, she has made it no secret how she feels about him.

The first time we had dinner with them, when Lo first met Mark, Lo rushed us home and threw me into the bed, jumping on top of me, humping me and, looking down at me from where she lifted and descended at a rising trot’s pace, she asked, “Do you think he wants me?”

“Mark?”

“Yes, Mark,” she said, panting.

She didn’t even let me answer before she finished. Apparently just the mention of his name was enough to get her heart palpitating.

She fell down next to me and, caressing her soft lower lips, she said, “He’s hard-up.”

“How do you know?”

“Did you forget that Stephanie and I had lunch together a few weeks ago?”

“And she told you that?”

“I have my ways of getting information. I know that they have sex once every six months, if that. And it’s not for his lack of wanting.”

“Do you think he wants you?”

“Fuck me and I’ll tell you.”

She spread her legs and I slid in.

“He’s so tall,” she began, “and sitting next to him I could tell that he was looking down my blouse at my tits all night.”

“I did notice that.”

“And his long legs touched mine under the table.”

“Did they?”

“And his cock!” She was cumming again. “His cock is huge. I could see it bulging right through is pants. Oh, it’s such a waste for her not to be on that every night!!!” She came hard this time.

That dinner date was a few months ago.

Now, we were at the beach and I could tell that Lo was all riled up to see Mark in just his swimming trunks. Knowing where Lo’s attention would fall, I gazed at his crotch and had to admit to myself, she was right – there was no disguising the size of that thing. It was truly amazing that the tip didn’t peek out the bottom of those loose-fitting shorts.

As soon as we staked out a spot for us to set up our chairs and blankets on the white sand, Lo removed her sheer blouse, revealing her tiny bikini top and lovely tum. She had the confident air of a woman in her twenties, showing off and prancing around her thirty-something competition. And that self-assured swagger sure got Mark’s attention.

Stephanie, who was busy with the two kids, was oblivious to all the sexual tension coursing between Lo and Mark. I watched, contentedly. Lo was soon removing her cutoff jeans-shorts, slipping out of them like a stripper on stage. Her bikini bottom left little to the imagination, but I could see Mark desperately imagining what was left.

When she was down to just her bikini, she got on all fours on the beach blanket in front of Mark, who was sitting in a beach chair. She roved around the blanket like a dog looking for its bone, but Lo was looking for the sunscreen. Or so she said. I think she was just looking for attention. . . and getting it.

“Where did you put it?” she asked me.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“He’s good for nothing, Mark,” she said, jibbing at me. As she was on all fours, her breasts hung down right in front of Mark and then she turned and, searching her bag, her ass was up in the air right in front of him. I’ve seen strippers on stage who were more discrete than that. “Oh, here it is!” she exclaimed as she pulled it out of her bag, looking behind her to see if she was being watched.

She began applying the lotion to her feet, legs, tum, chest, arms, shoulders, neck, face. “I missed a few spots,” she said, passing the lotion to me as we exchanged looks – mine saying, “You’re pushing it.” Hers saying, “I want it pushed.”

I applied some lotion to her back. “Lower,” she said. I applied it to her lower back. “Lower,” she said. I applied it to her ass and she pulled up the bottoms into a thong and said, “Don’t take any chances.”

I applied it to her ass cheeks as I looked at Mark and said, “The princess likes to be pampered.” He laughed, but was clearly thinking about pampering the princess in his own way. I enjoyed it.

A group of four men strolled onto the beach with their cooler, chairs, volleyball, and snacks. They set up camp right next to us, attracted to Lo, no doubt. They were all in their twenties, jacked, and looking to have fun in the sun. Lo’s attention was suddenly split between Mark and the men. It looked like the numbers won out – unless Lo was just toying with Mark now the way she had been toying with me. Once she had the fish hooked, she was content to throw it away and see what other catch she could accomplish with her bait.

The guys, after settling in and cracking open a few brews, set up the volleyball net and began a game. Lo looked on enviously.

“Go play,” I said, giving her permission.

“No, you come too,” she said, ambiguously.

“I don’t want to.”

“Mark, will you play?”

Mark was up for it. The two of them approached the guys and soon it was five guys and Lo bouncing the ball back-and-forth. Lo danced upon the sand, dashing here and there, stretching to spike the ball, bending to pick it up, lunging to serve. She was clearly distracting to her teammates and opponents alike. At some points her bikini bottoms were showing her cute ass and at other points her breasts were on the verge of flying out of their cups.

Stephanie talked with me in between rebuking or cautioning the children. We discussed work and then leisure time. I had recounted some of the things that Lo and I had done over the summer thus far. “Wow!” she said, “You two do so much!”

“Well, if I had my druthers, I’d probably just sit at home and read and write, but Lo is always on the go-go-go.”

“One of the downsides of dating. . .” she searched for the least judgmental words she could find, “someone so young.” No matter how she said it, it dripped with derision.

“She keeps me young,” I said, simply, with a smile on my face as I watched my young nymph flirt with the four guys and Mark.

The sun was beating down and I could see all the players wilting in the noontime heat. They broke up their game and Lo grabbed some cash from her bag and said she was going to get a snow cone.

“You were really playing hard,” I commented.

Out of breath, sweating, she just nodded.

“I mean, hard to get,” I added sardonically.

“Daddio, I don’t play hard to get. I play to get them hard.”

She asked if we wanted something. After putting in my order, I watched as she and two of the young men walked down the path toward the dunes, behind which was the concession stand. Just before they were out of eyeshot, I saw Lo stop and untie the halter-top of her bikini and ask one of the men to fix it for her. He was fixing it from behind while the other guy was in front of her. The guy fumbling with the stings “accidentally” lost his grip of them, letting the top fall. Lo laughed as she pulled it back up. Down it went again as she tried to pass the string to Mr. Butterfingers. They all laughed as Lo covered her breasts with her arm. They retied the knot and walked on. They were away for a long time.

When Lo got back from the concession stand, Lo asked me to go into the ocean with her. “Where’s my snack?” I asked, expecting that she would at least bring it back.

“Whoops!” she said with a smile. “I got a bit. . . distracted. Come with me in the water and I’ll tell you about it,” she said, up to no good. I gave her an angry look, but she’s knows I can’t be cross with her for long.

I followed her to the deep blue sea. The water was warm. We were relatively alone at that part of the beach and I carried Lo in my arms. When we got out to the point where I could still stand, but was lifted as the waves crested, Lo kissed me passionately.

“Wow!” I said, surprised.

“Feel me, Daddio,” she said, moving my hand between her legs. “Am I wet?”

“Lo. We’re swimming. In the ocean.”

She smiled. “Oh, trust me, I’m wet.”

“What were you up to?”

“Nothing.”

She kissed me again.

“Lo, I know you were up to something. I saw your little ploy to flash them your tits.”

“You saw that, Daddio?”
“Yes.”

“What else did you see?”

“That’s it. You disappeared behind the dunes. You were away for a long time, while I patiently waited for my snack. No snack came back.”

“Oh, you’ll get your snack,” she said. “Your snack will be coming soon.”

She kissed me again. It was like she was drunk on sunshine, shore, and attention.

“Finger me, Daddio.”

I put my index finger into her slippery hole underwater, beneath her bikini bottoms.

“Oh, yeah,” she moaned. “Hurry up. I have to cum.”

“What were you up to?”

“Let’s just say that the snow cone was dessert.”

“What did you do?”

“Both of them, with my mouth. Are you mad?”

“Oh, that’s why you were so salty. I thought it was just the sea water.”

She moaned. Beneath the rolling waves I felt her pussy clench on my finger. She came.

“Do you think Mark knows?” she asked when her momentary ecstasy was at an end.

“Why would he know?”

“You think he thinks I’m a slut?”

“He has no reason not to.”

“Good.”

“Why do you tease these poor married men?”

“I just like being an inspiration to people.”

“You’re so altruistic.”

“I think so. I really hope that they’ll go home tonight and fuck like banshees.”

“But you know that she isn’t up for it.”

“Well, then I hope they’ll go home and after she falls asleep, he’ll make himself cum five times next to her in the bed to the thought of me today at the beach.”

“And you’re going to cum to that thought at least five times in the shower tonight, won’t you?”

“If not before.”

Her orgasm achieved, we swam back to shore. She adjusted her bottoms as we emerged from the water. We walked up to our beach blanket and chairs and as we approached I could see the guys next to us speaking in hushed tones and looking at Lo. I could see them making eye contact with her and her smiling back at them. The two who lucked out were gloating to their two hard-up companions. I wondered if Mark and Stephanie could hear them.

When we got up to the group, one of the guys asked Lo if she’d like to play some more volleyball now that she cooled off. “The game was tied up. You’re not going to leave it that way, are you?” he asked.

“What’s wrong with being tied up?” asked Lo suggestively.

“I’m game,” said Mark.

“OK,” said Lo, “Let’s play.” She and Mark went over and the six of them volleyed. I saw Lo running and jumping, bending over in a set-stance like Kerri Walsh. At one point, she ran to hit the ball in the far corner of the impromptu court. She missed it. As she fell down and was on all fours, she crawled to the ball and I thought I saw something that I wondered if anyone else saw. I wondered if it was what I thought it was. The sand between her knees was wet. After she tossed the ball to Mark she said, “I have to take a break,” and she came over to me sitting on the towel. Luckily, Stephanie had gone in the water with her kids and was swimming, seeming to ignore the action of the court.

“Lo,” I said, “did you. . .”

“You saw?!” she asked, mortified.

“So you did?”

“Yes. Accidentally. Do you think anyone else saw?”

“Even if they did, your bathing suit is wet from the ocean. They probably just thought. . .”

“But Daddio, I gushed. I’m still gushing,” she said, spreading her legs a bit to show me a burst of clear liquid spraying onto the towel as she accidentally squirted. “This is bad!” she said, adding, “But it feels so good.” A look of relief was on her face after her release.

“Have some water. Stay hydrated and take it easy.”

Lo rolled over on her tum and watched the five guys hitting the ball around.

“Lo,” I said, “If you don’t want to have any more accidental orgasms, then stop looking at the eye-candy.”

“I wish I could,” she said. “Or I wish I could just get good and fucked right now!”

Lo lay in her agony only for a little while before Mark quit the game. The guys had lost interest once Lo bowed out. Mark rejoined us.

Soon thereafter, Stephanie and the kids came back up and all were ready to go home for an early dinner.

We went back to Mark and Stephanie’s place. Stephanie changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt and Mark manned the grill, still in his bathing suit.

Lo was back into her cutoff jeans-shorts and bikini top. No bikini bottoms or panties. She helped Mark with some food prep in the kitchen before we all sat outside to eat.

The kids were getting cranky and soon after dinner we left so they could deal with the inevitable melt-down that we could see coming.

“Match, Cinder & Spark,” great beach reading

On the ride home Lo said to me, “Did you hear what Stephanie said when Mark commented about the curls of my hair? She said, ‘You don’t even notice I have hair.’ But honestly, she doesn’t do anything to keep herself up and attractive. And she doesn’t even have a sex-drive.”

“Don’t you see the pattern?”

“What pattern?”

“The pattern: Hunter and his wife, Mark and Stephanie, Carl and Hollis – so many of them. These youngish hot guys with very attractive wives and there is just nothing going on.”

“How is it a pattern?”

“I’m old enough to have seen the pattern.”

“What pattern?!” She was getting impatient with my teasing now.

“Lovely, fun, free-spirited woman (or so she appears) locks that shit down, puts a ring on it, gets married, and no sooner than the last piece of wedding cake is put in the freezer, she chops off her loose long locks, gets a little bob-cut, and then it begins.”

“What begins?”

“Well, with different women the timing may vary, but give the domestic bliss a year or so before she pops out one or two screaming poop-makers and then it’s all sweatpants and sweatshirts all the time. A few years of that and then she complains to her husband, ‘You wouldn’t even notice if I died my hair purple! You don’t even see me!’”

“You’re being sexist.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, and I don’t like it.”

When we got home it was chilly out. “I’m going to get into sweatpants and a sweatshirt,” said Lo, “Is that ok with you or won’t you notice me anymore?”

“Lo, with you it’s different.”

“How?”

“Cause I know that you’re always naked under those clothes.”

“Naked and wet.”

“Go take a hot shower, hop on the bed, put your beach bum up in the air and await your punishment for your bad behavior today.”

“Really?!” she said with great anticipation.

“Yes, really.”

“Punishment or reward?”

“In my mind it’s a reward. But I know you prefer to think of it as punishment.”

“I love that you know me so well, Daddy.”

mysexlifewithlola

The trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.

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