Category Archives: slut
Protected: Don’t Fuck Me, Photograph Me!
Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper
2
[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]
In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.
And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.
It was Sunday and it was hot! Hot and humid. There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets. Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before. Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting. I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.
All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.
Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.
Hot Lola on a hot night
I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.
Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.
“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”
“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.
“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”
“I need something to get me up.”
“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.
Would this get you up in the morning?
“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”
“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”
Suddenly we heard a knock.
“What was that?” I asked.
Lo shrugged her shoulders.
Another knock.
“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door. Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.
I opened the door a crack. A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.
“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom. I live across the way, over yonder.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.
“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard. I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great! We’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sure thing ma’am. Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”
I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.
“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”
“Yes. Why not, Daddy?”
“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”
She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.
“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”
After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house. There was a gate around the backyard.
“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.
“It’s the law,” I said. “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”
“Ah, I get it.”
We walked into the enclosed backyard. By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.
There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini. Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?
“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.
“Hi,” they almost grunted back.
“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked. “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”
One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.
“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked. They were in shorts and t-shirts.
“What?”
“Get naked,” she said plainly.
They did as she said. They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.
Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.
She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.
“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.
The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders. His cock was very close to Lo’s face.
During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool. No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”
When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.
“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”
“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.
“Jerk off! Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”
Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her. That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.
She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.
She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.
She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string. Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.
She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.
Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.
First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin. She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.
When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water. The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.
“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”
They all dove in right quick. They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.
“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool. “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.
“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.
“Suit yourself.”
“More than I can say your suiters have on!”
“Huh? Oh. Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.
After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink. They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo. Ain’t that a twist?
Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”
“Clothes? Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice. Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.
“You sure are.”
“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”
“You got that right,” said one of the guys. When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.
One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.
“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie. I’m good at goaltending.”
“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper. And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”
“No balls! Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”
“Call what – baseball bats?”
“Yeah!”
“Again, wrong sport.”
“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”
“Touché!” I called.
The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola. They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.
Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands. It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands. She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.
We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back. The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”
“Hey!” she called.
“What? You’re down.”
“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop? Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.
Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.
“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a penalty.”
“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.
Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.
“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.
“Gatekeeper? I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”
“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet. I’ve been gatekeeping.”
“You want praise for that? It’s COVID times. You know that.”
“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”
“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.
But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.
We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs. It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.
Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it. I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books. So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it? But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down. Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!
Anti-Lola
Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography. One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff. I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”
Pro-Lo
To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola. They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.
It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle. The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.
The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up! In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect. The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.
Lola on the News
“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window. “Oh shit!” she said.
“What?” asked one of the guys.
“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”
There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.
“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”
The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”
We filled him in. He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob. I was quite worried. All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.
“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.
Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club. It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.
He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.
“Sure,” she said.
“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day. I was just doing my job.”
“I understand.”
Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.
Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.
“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”
“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”
“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”
“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo. “Would you like to see?” She asked, looking over at the empty stage.
“My own personal show?”
“Yeah. Can you put on some music?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Got any Rihanna?”
“Anything you want.”
“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”
Hagrid put it on. As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me? What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.
“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.
“Thanks,” said Lo. “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”
“What happened?”
“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. We’d treat you right.”
“Oh yeah? How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.
Hagrid was unfazed. He works in a strip club.
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can’t get enough
Must be love on the brain.
The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat. Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.
“We treat the girls right. I can assure you of that.”
Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass. Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”
“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo. “My younger sister strips here.”
“What?! No way?”
“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.
“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.
“Why should she?” he asked, naively.
“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I see her naked and more at home.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”
“Really?”
“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”
“You both live with your parents?”
“No, we have an apartment together.”
“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”
“Yeah. Cheaper that way.”
“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”
“All the time. And women.”
“In her room?”
“In her room, with the door open. In the living room. In the kitchen. It doesn’t really matter to her.”
“I’ve got to meet this woman!”
“You already have.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”
“She’s your sister?!”
“Yep.”
Hagrid looked at his phone.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.
“How’s that?”
“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”
“What?! We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man. Double standard? You better believe it.
Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.
Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.
“You!” said the little sister.
“You!” said Lo right back at her. It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp. Who is who? Does it matter?
Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.
Luna Lovegood/Evanna Lynch
The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me. He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.
“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.
“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt. “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”
Evanna Lynch
“Whatever,” said Hagrid.
Evanna Lynch
The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment. It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room. The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly. The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch. The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it. There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.
On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.
“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.
“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna. “He’s a grown man.”
“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.
I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.
“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”
“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.
“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.
“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.
“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here. They know her. They know all about her. To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”
“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig. Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.
“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class. You’re from the city. You’re not from around here.”
“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom. “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”
“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”
“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”
“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.
I played dumb. Lo spread her legs. Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.
She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”
“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.
“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”
“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.
“You can have it,” continued Luna. “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.
“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.
“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.
Luna put out her hand. “A hundred.”
“What?!”
“It will cost you. One Benjamin.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”
“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.
“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”
“I don’t have a hundred.”
“What do you have?”
He pulled out his wallet. He opened it. He looked in. “A twenty.”
Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened. “It’s a deal.”
Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.
Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen. The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.
“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.
“Sure,” I said.
“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.
Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”
“Perfect,” said Lo.
As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations. The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.
“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.
“Pretty much every night she dances.”
“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”
Hagrid laughed a little. “You saw how little she weighs. She barely pulls that weight. All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka. “And drugs.”
“That’s too bad.”
Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early. It’s out of his control.
“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.
“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple. Lo here, she’s. . .”
“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.
“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.
“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.
“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake. The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.
“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat. “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.” It was hot in that shack. No AC.
“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.
Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.
Luna downed it in one gulp. “More,” she said. Was she talking to Lo or Tom?
Lo filled up the glass again.
“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.
She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.
“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo. Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.
“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.
“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.
Luna just gave him her middle finger.
“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder. It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.
“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her. “It’s still in you.”
“Forget the condom. Fuck my ass.”
“I don’t have another one.”
“FUCK. MY. ASS.”
The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.
“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.
“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”
“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”
“ATV or. . . ?”
“We’ll take my pickup truck.”
“Wait!” said Luna. “I want to go with you.”
The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.
“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.
“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.
“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.
“Because, I want to go.”
“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”
Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.
Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.
“Works every time,” said Luna.
“What does?” asked Lo.
“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”
Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth. I couldn’t help but think, “Wow! What a Lola move!”
When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.
Why were all of us in the back seat? Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.
Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap. Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.
“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.
“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.
“Fuck you!” said Luna.
Luna spread her legs. Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass. Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them. She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself. But then she pulled out her hand.
“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom. She tossed it out the window with a laugh.
We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.
“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.
“No problem. Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.
“Will do!”
“Thanks! Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.
“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits. “Stay slutty!”
“You know I will!”
Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.
The End
Lola Down – Cover Girl
Smalltown Strumpet Part II – The Doctor Will See You Now
Smalltown Strumpet
Continued from: A Room with a View
Outdoor Strip Club
NO MASTURBATING
The sign was clear, yet ambiguous. Hung up in a strip joint, did it apply to the relatively rare female patron of the arts?
Lola was keen on testing the bounds of linguistic imprecision.
She unbuttoned her tight short-shorts and slid her hand down for a publicly displayed diddle.
No sooner had she done so than a bouncer came up to our table and said, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that. All patrons need to keep their clothes on.”
“My clothes are on,” she protested, batting her eyelashes at him, continuing to caress her cunt.
Lola’s short shorts before
“You know what I mean,” he said, unmoved by her flirtations.
She removed her hand from between her legs, licked her fingers and buttoned up.
“The nerve,” she said to me once he left.
She got up and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’ll be back. Keep it in your pants until then, ok?”
About five minutes later she returned. She sat down next to me where she was, but this time she turned the little chair around and sat on it backwards, spreading her legs to make room for the back rest.
“What’s up?” I asked, confused.
“Well, your cock would be if you could see me from the front,” she replied.
I was curious. I got up and, carrying a single in my hand, walked to the stage, gently tucked it in the dancer’s thong, turned around, and looked at my love sitting with her legs spread on the backward chair.
Ahhhaaa! I see now. When she went to the restroom, she apparently took with her some knife or something and cut her short-shorts through the crotch revealing her lack of panties. (Or did she take off her panties in the bathroom?)
She was proudly displaying her very widely spread pussy lips covertly through the split seam of her short-shorts. The only ones who could see were the strippers on the stage.
Smart. Smart and sexy. My woman has a head for hedonistic hijinks.
She had to refrain from stroking herself lest she alert the bouncer to her little pussy ploy.
The dancers all danced for her, as if greatly amused by the novelty of an amateur exhibitionist putting on a show for them.
I, for my part, was rather nervous about the whole scenario. It seemed to be inviting trouble.
The dancer’s name wasn’t Trouble, but she accepted the invite. She walked off the makeshift stage, strutted up to Lo’s spread legs, got on her knees and pantomimed cunnilingus. The other men in the audience wanted to get a better view. They sauntered around to look between Lo’s legs and well, soon Mr. Bouncer was back.
Lo closed her legs (a rare act for her) as he gestured that we were to leave.
Lo didn’t make a scene (also rare), but gathered up her dignity (what little was left) and strutted out to the cat-calls and whistles of her supporters.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” I said as we left, quoting from Laurel and Hardy – a film reference from before Lo’s time.
“What? Me?!!!” she said with anger.
“I’m just kidding. But you sure do know how to get ejected quick.”
“Meh,” she said, “I’ve been thrown out of better strip clubs than this.”
“That you have.”
“What now, Daddio?” she asked, grabbing my arm as we walked down the street.
“Now we hope we don’t get arrested.”
“I have a better idea,” she said, pulling me down a dirt road that intersected with street where we were walking.
“Lo,” I said, “I have a feeling your idea is not better.”
She ignored me and pulled me further, before bending over to expose the wide gap in her shorts that revealed the wide gap that is her pussy.
“What good are these shorts if we’re not going to use them for a quick doggin’ session?” she asked over her shoulder. “Bang me!”
Lola’s short shorts after
I looked left and right and saw no one. I will admit, I was feeling pent up power needing penetration after the show at the strip club. I hastily pulled out my cock and entered Lo from behind. She let out a long, loud moan.
“Lo, if you want me to keep this going then you need to put on your silencer.”
I rapidly ransacked her raw desire as she gushed girly juice all over my rod. She was overflowing, soaking what little remained of the crotch of her pants.
Lo knows when I’m about to blow and, anticipating my climax, she lunged forward and spun around, landing on her knees, taking my cock in her mouth to catch every precious drop of fluid.
Swallowing her fill, she dabbed the edges of her mouth where a bit had dripped and she sat on the ground to stroke herself silly as I watched and put away my spent serpent.
Finger-fucking herself, she eventually squirted, sprinkling the earth with her holy water.
Mission completed, she got up, dusted herself off, and we continued on our way back to the street and then the center of town.
At one point she walked in front of me and, over her shoulder asked, “Can you see the hole in my shorts, Daddio?”
“Nope, not at all,” I said.
“Too bad.”
We got back to the car and, as I was driving us home, she spread her legs and was touching herself.
“Lo, come on. Didn’t you have enough?”
“It itches, Daddy.”
“Well, wait until we get home. We’ve had one-too-many close calls today.”
“No, I mean it really itches.”
She wasn’t stroking, she was scratching.
She spread her legs wider and looked between them. “It’s irritated.”
I drove faster. “I’ll get you home and you can take a shower. Maybe that will help.”
In my haste to get her home, I got pulled over by a cop. Out here the cops just lie in wait for out-of-state license plates and pluck them off like fish in a barrel.
“What the fuck?” said Lo as I slowed down, edging to the side of the road.
“Cop,” I said, furious that I was going to get a speeding ticket.
“I’m really in some serious discomfort here,” said Lo.
“What do you want me to do, have a high-speed chase through the dirt road Dukes of Hazzard style?”
Cops know that if you’re speeding, you’re in a rush and so they purposely take their time getting out of the car, walking up to the driver’s side window, and talking. This guy was no different. All the while Lo was clamping her thighs together, trying to itch herself surreptitiously.
“Hello officer,” I said when he finally greeted me.
“License and registration,” was all he said as he looked us over, apparently liking what he saw in the passenger seat.
I reached in front of Lo to the glove compartment to grab the papers.
“Hi officer,” said Lo, flirtatiously, but clearly agitated.
“Ma’am,” was all he said.
He took the papers and just as slowly as he had walked to the car, he walked back to his cruiser.
Lo spread her legs and began rubbing, slapping, and smacking her pussy to make the itching go away. She was getting distressed rapidly.
“I can’t take this! I don’t know what’s happening! Look!” she said, swiveling in her seat toward me and spreading her legs. Her entire pussy was swollen with red irritation. So were her knees. “I must have sat in poison ivy!!!”
I was very concerned. Where was that cop?
“We have to go to the hospital, not home,” said Lo, pleading and commanding simultaneously.
Finally the cop came back and gave me a $75.00 ticket.
I took it from him and asked, “Can you tell me the fastest way to get to a hospital?”
“What?”
“We need to go to the hospital right away.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Lo,” I said, “Do you want to show the officer?”
Lo turned toward me again and spread her legs showing her poisoned pussy.
There was a lot of information for the cop to take in at once: the ripped shorts, Lola flashing him, the inflamed pussy. But he took it in stride and simply said, “Follow me.” (I wondered if he was wearing a bodycam that would broadcast to headquarters Lo’s exposing herself.)
He was no longer sauntering. He got in his patrol car quickly and drove so fast that I was hardly able to keep up.
In about fifteen minutes we were at the emergency entrance to the little local hospital. Lo jumped out of the car as I thanked the officer.
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“We were out on a hike and, I guess she fell into some poison ivy.”
“Naked?”
“No, she was wearing shorts.”
He looked puzzled.
“Hey,” he said. “You can forget about that speeding ticket. I’ll revoke it when I get back to the station.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely surprised. “Thanks a lot. For everything!”
I parked the car and went into the emergency room waiting area. I found Lo sitting and squirming in her seat.
“You checked in?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the wait time?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
She was going out of her mind and my questions weren’t helping.
Finally a nurse escorted us to a little examination room that was cordoned off from the others by a thin blue curtain hanging from a bar that made three sides of a rectangle around us.
“Please remove your clothes and get into this,” said the nurse, handing Lo a blue hospital gown.
Lo couldn’t take off her clothes fast enough. Down went the shorts, up went the shirt. She spread her legs and began smacking her pussy.
“I don’t know what else to do,” she said in frustration. “Get me a wet towel. Cold water.”
“That might make it worse,” I cautioned.
“Shut up and do it!”
There was no debate. I followed her instructions and gave her the wet paper towel. She placed it over her pussy.
“Does that help?” I asked.
“A little. Where is that doctor?”
We waited for what felt like an interminably long time before the doctor finally arrived to examine Lo.
“Is it ok if I’m here?” I asked, not wanting to overstep my bounds.
“Are you her father?” he asked, stupidly.
“He’s my lover,” said Lo.
I was tempted to add, “And father,” but I refrained. No time for jokes.
“If it’s ok with the patient, then you can stay,” he said, embarrassed. “So, what brings you here today?” he asked.
Lo hiked up her flimsy hospital gown and spread her legs. The doctor looked. “Not usually this swollen, I take it?” he asked.
“No!” said Lo, insulted.
The doctor put on rubber gloves. I noticed he wore a wedding band. “May I?” he asked, moving in to touch Lo down there.
I have to admit, I was hard. Very hard.
He used his thumb to spread her pussy lips and look very, very carefully.
Lo tried to assist him by offering her professional opinion. “I think it’s poison ivy.”
“Hmmmm,” said the doctor. “Is it anywhere else?”
“A little on my knees,” said Lo.
The doctor looked at Lo’s knees.
“Do you mind removing the gown?” he asked. “I’d like to see if it is anywhere else.”
Lo complied. Standing naked in front of the doctor he looked her over. It seemed he was examining her more as a man than a man of medicine.
He had her turn around and bend over. He looked carefully between her ass cheeks. It was rather degrading to Lo. Infantilizing.
She turned back around to face the doctor and sat down, naked still.
“Were you in the woods?” he asked.
I was curious as to how Lo would answer this one.
“We went for a walk through the woods, yes,” she said. “At one point we sat down on the grass.”
“Do you have any rash?” asked the doctor of me.
“No, none.”
“Just you?” he asked of Lo, rhetorically. “And only, er, there and on your knees? That is odd.”
Lo was losing her patience. Not a patient patient, you might say.
“Yeah, well, how I got it isn’t important. How are we going to treat it? It’s painful.”
“Painful?”
“Yes.”
“Itchy?”
“A little.”
“How long ago were you, uh, sitting in the grass?”
“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so ago.”
“Well, it’s not poison ivy. That would take about a day to appear. My guess is poison nettles.”
“Is that bad?” asked Lo as if being given a terminal diagnosis. “I never heard of poison nettles.”
“Very common around these parts. Never saw a case like this though,” he said, looking at Lo’s pussy.
“What can you do about it?”
“Well, normally I’d say soap and water and let it run its course.”
“I can’t even walk!” shrieked Lo in horror. “There has to be something.”
“An oral steroid will work pretty fast. But just to make sure it works, do you mind if I take a photo as a before comparison?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.
“Go ahead,” said Lo, spreading her legs and using both hands to pull her pussy lips wide apart.
“And one from behind, to make sure it doesn’t spread to the anus,” he said, trying to sound clinical.
Lo got up, turned around, bent over, and spread her butt cheeks for him to snap a few photos.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving us alone.
“That was weird, right?” I asked Lo.
“Yes,” agreed Lo, back to scratching and slapping her pussy, now that the doctor was gone.
“He used his own phone to take a photo. And one from behind.”
“Whatever,” she said, dismissively. “I’ll give him the blog address if he’s that into me. Whatever it takes to have this go away!”
“I bet he’s jackin’ off to your photos in his office right now,” I said.
“I don’t really care,” she said, putting her hospital gown on.
We waited. Lo grew more distressed at her discomfort. She spread her legs and began slapping her pussy. She was hoping the pain would replace the itch. As she was busy between her legs a nurse walked in. She was taken by surprise when she saw me sitting next to Lo and Lo going to town on her twat. Lo looked up at the startled woman with an angry countenance and said, “Poison nettles,” and continued slapping the puffy petals.
The nurse disappeared as quickly as she had entered. Apparently she had forgotten whatever it was she had to do there.
A few moments later a different doctor walked in. He introduced himself as a specialist from dermatology. He said the previous doctor wanted him to render a second opinion on the rash. “Do you mind if I see it?” he asked, clearly aware of what part of Lo’s body was affected.
Lo spread her legs yet again.
The doctor made all sorts of thoughtful, considered grunts and moans. “Hmmmm, ah. Yes. Hmmm. I see. Anything on the back or chest? If there is a rash on the chest it could indicate a severe allergy. May I check?”
Lo removed her gown again and brought her breasts within kissing range of the doctor’s face. He looked them over carefully. “Well, that is good,” he finally said, “appears to be confined to the. . . uh. . . lower parts.”
“May I put on my gown or did you want to check my ass?” asked Lo. “The other doctor checked my ass. Wanted to make sure it hadn’t spread to my anus.”
“Does your anus itch?” asked the doctor.
“No, not really.”
“Well, if you want me to check it out, I will.”
Lo turned around and bent over.
“May I?” asked the doctor before grabbing her ass cheeks.
“Go right ahead.”
He spread her ass cheeks wide and, as she was bent over, he asked, “It itches here?” He touched her vulva with his fingers. Notably, he wasn’t wearing gloves, but he too was wearing a wedding band.
“Yes. It stings a bit there.”
“And here?” he asked as he slid his fingers to the back of her pussy.
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder.
“But nothing here,” he said, running his fingertips gently around Lo’s anus.
“No.”
“That’s good,” he said, letting go of her ass. “You may turn around.”
“Do you also want a photo?” asked Lo.
“What? Uh, no. That is not necessary.”
“Because the other doctor has a few?”
“Yes, yes.”
“He showed you?”
“No, he didn’t,” said the doctor, blushing.
“Will a third doctor need to see me? Maybe all the male doctors of the hospital would like to render an opinion?”
At this point I couldn’t tell if Lo was sarcastically calling out the doctor’s unprofessional voyeurism or if she was letting her fantastically erotic imagination run wild.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the doctor. “I’ll just go consult with my colleague and we’ll get you a prescription.”
“This town is full of sexually frustrated men,” said Lo to me when we were alone again. “And I have to pee,” she added.
“There has to be a bathroom close by.”
“B-R-B,” she said, getting up and leaving our little semi-private area, walking down the hall with her butt crack exposed by the hospital gown.
When she returned, I asked her, “Did you really have to pee or did you just want to put on a little show?”
“A little from column A and a little from column B.”
She laid down on her side, her rear exposed by the skimpy hospital gown in the back.
Another nurse popped in and saw Lo’s rear. She looked at me. “The doctor will be right here,” she said. She looked at Lo and asked me, “Is she ok?”
“Yes,” I said, “just recovering from overexposure.”
The nurse looked puzzled and disappeared.
Lo sat up and said, “More people have seen my ass here than in our books.”
“That’s not true,” I said, my pride bruised by the comment. “I know, on good authority, that your ass has been seen by thousands.”
“Give it some time,” replied Lo.
Now both doctors returned to our room.
“Amazing attention you’re getting, Lo,” I said. “Does your staff treat everyone this way or is this a particularly extraordinary case of poison pussy?” I asked the doctors. They chuckled.
“Here is the prescription said the first doctor,” handing me the note.
“And here is an ointment that should cool down and numb the stinging and itching pretty quickly,” he said, passing it to Lola.
“Can I apply it right now?” she asked, eagerly taking the small tube from him.
“Yes.”
Before either of the doctors could leave, Lo removed the cap and looked up at them. “How much should I use?”
“About enough to cover the tip of your finger should do it,” said the doctor.
Lo squeezed out the white cream that looked like toothpaste and applied it to her fingertip. She then spread her legs and smeared it all around the labia.
“Is it for external use only? Cause it itches inside a bit too.”
“Do you mind,” said the doctor, “if I show you how you can apply it to the sensitive region?”
“Not at all.”
The doctor then put a dab on his fingertip and rubbed the ointment up and down Lo’s pussy lips, careful not to penetrate. “I’d recommend not going any deeper than that,” he said.
Lo was moaning, “MMMMmmmmm, that feels good. Tingly. Can you apply some to my anus, doctor? It’s beginning to itch too.”
Lo lifted her legs higher, exposing her behind to both doctors. The doctor ran his finger around her sphincter. “How’s that?”
“Much better,” moaned Lo seductively. “So, nothing internal?”
“No, not with this. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“If it itches internally?” asked Lo.
“Well, KY jelly or lube is fine. It may help cool it down.”
“You’ll take care of me?” Lo asked, looking at me. I could almost hear her say, “Daddy.”
“Yes, Lo. I’ll try to be as attentive as these good doctors.”
She smiled. She spread her legs again and asked, “Did you get all the affected areas?”
The doctor applied a tad bit more of the cream to his fingertip and began to apply it to her clit. Big mistake.
I saw her look up at me. She bit her lower lip. I saw her hands tense up and her nails dig into the backs of her legs.
Suddenly, Lo squirted a laser-like shot directly onto her tits. It was a strange shot since she was contorted with her legs being held by her arms and her anus exposed.
“Wow!” remarked the doctor who was standing up, breaking with his professional demeanor.
“Whoops!” squealed Lo, playfully, “I sometimes do that.”
She let her legs down and as she did so, another squirt shot out and got the doctor in front of her, right on his chest.
“I can’t control it. Honestly!” she said defensively.
“It’s ok,” said the good doctor, calmly, yet taking a couple of steps back.
“I’ve just been rubbing it all day and so now it’s. . .”
She squirted a third time on the white tile floor, making a puddle. This time she didn’t try to stop. It was a lot. Her head went back and she said, “Fuuuuuuck!” Since we weren’t cut off from the rest of the emergency room by real walls, I’m sure those in the immediate vicinity could hear her.
“Well,” said one of the doctor as he wiped down his tie, “if that will be all, we’ll get going.”
“Thank you. Thank you both,” said Lo, a smile on her face clearly apparent even under her mask, her legs pressed together over the mess she had made. She batted her eyelashes at the two doctors flirtatiously. I passed her a few tissues to wipe down her chest.
The doctors lingered to watch her do this. She dried herself off and then reached in her bag and pulled out a magazine.
“I can tell that you both are two very ethical men of science,” began Lo. I was wondering where she was going with this. “Perhaps you’d be interested in reading this magazine I happen to have found in the waiting room of the hospital? There’s a fascinating article in it on nymphomania. Actually, I have more than just a casual interest in this subject and I’d be very interested to get your professional opinions on it and the claims made in the article.” She passed one of the doctors a copy of Ethical Non-Monogamy. An article I had written about Lola was featured with a spread of her. It was called, “A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition.” Lo found a pen next to her on the small table and carefully wrote her email address, downloladown@gmail.com, on the back cover of the magazine.
ENM Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine Lola Spread
The doctors left, magazine in hand like a consolation prize.
“Lo,” I said disapprovingly. “You are bad.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that it’s all beyond her control – the exhibitionism, the squirting, the flirting, the manipulation.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, “before they call the cops on you.”
“I didn’t do anything illegal. Why would they call the cops?”
“Carrying a concealed weapon.”
“I’m naked, what could I possibly carry that’s concealed?”
“Your dirty mind!”
“Well, you would get me off, wouldn’t you Daddy?”
“I think it would take me and the rest of the town to get you off completely.”
“Well, let’s get home and you can examine the body of evidence.”
It was getting dark as we drove to John’s home where she had me wait on her hand-and-foot through her convalescence.
[To be continued. . . ]
Smalltown Strumpet – A Room with a View
Part I – A Room with a View
Book Cover, Excerpt
How do you like the view?
My friend John has a large house out in the woods. After fifteen months of COVID lockdown, he and his family were eager to get out and go on a vacation. He called me up one day and asked if Lo and I would be interested in a house swap. We’d get to use his country farmhouse and they’d get to stay in the city at our apartment. Lo was game. A weeklong vacation in June sounded good to her. “We’ll have a love-fest,” she said, licking her lips.
“When you say it, it sounds like a sextival.”
“Yes, that does sound better!” She looked off into the distance. “Imagine,” she said, “Merry-go-arounds, Ferris wheels, haunted houses – all for sexual variety.”
“Don’t forget the fun we could have with cotton candy.”
“We could do that at home.”
“The only downside to this swap is that John had asked if I would install a couple of windows in their kitchen so they could look out on the front lawn when doing dishes.”
John, though very skilled, knows that I worked as a carpenter in my twenties. He preferred that I do the window framing because he was concerned his amateurish abilities would lead to leaks and other problems.
“Do I have to help you?” asked Lo.
“No, I don’t think I’ll need help.”
“Well, then it sounds like a great plan to me!”
We arrived Friday night and Lo made an excellent meal with the provisions John had left for us. As a token of his gratitude, he left a very expensive bottle of Scotch for me.
The next day was sunny and warm. In fact, that was the forecast for the whole week. I was glad for it, since it meant I wouldn’t have to worry about the weather while I cut a hole in the wall of the house, framed out the windows, installed them, and then did the finish-work on the outside and inside.
As I was arranging my tools for the job, Lo came downstairs in a skimpy bikini.
“And where are you going?” I asked her.
“To tan.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Right there,” she said, pointing to the front lawn. The backyard was basically woods. The front lawn was flat and open, but the house was on a fairly busy street – busy for the country, that is. Cars were constantly driving by – maybe one or two a minute.
“Lo, are you seriously going to suntan like that?”
“Like what?”
“Wearing that thong bikini.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because. . . because, uh, your pussy lips.”
“What about my pussy lips?”
“They’re too big for that thong. They’re hanging out and over, flapping on either side of it.”
String Thong
“So?”
“What do you mean ‘so’?”
“I mean, bikinis are meant to accentuate the positive.”
“And you have positively large, long, and loose pussy lips.”
“I prefer to think of them as limber,” she said, pulling at her labia to show me their elasticity.
“Call them limber, call them lithe, call them labia-lobes, I don’t care what you call them, they are flopping in the wind, exposed.”
“Since when have you become such a prude?”
“Suit yourself.”
“That’s exactly what I’ll do. And I fully expect to find many suitors at the beach this summer.”
“I’m sure that they will expect to fill you too.”
“The more meat between these thighs the better!”
“Well, need I remind you, this is not the beach. We’re in a rural town in the sticks and you’ll be flashing your wares on the front lawn. I wouldn’t be surprised if the village vice squad slapped a fine right on your ass.”
“I bet they’d like to touch this fine ass too!” she said, turning tail and walking out the front door. I could see the silhouette of her labia in her thigh gap as she strutted away. I watched as she set up her lounge chair on the lawn, close enough to the road for everyone to get a good look. She purposefully spread her legs as she adjusted her bikini top. Cars were slowing down as they drove by, in order to get a closer look.
I watched her for a bit before taking a drill to the wall and cutting a hole right through to the exterior.
“Hey Lo,” I called across the front lawn.
She turned around.
“Come here, I want to show you something.”
She didn’t look pleased that I was interrupting her exhibitionism, I mean relaxation. She sauntered across the lawn, flaunting her ass in the thong to the throngs of people in the street. At least in her mind that was what she was doing. In reality, cars were passing by at their usual rate.
“This better be good,” she said.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the circle I had cut in the wall.
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s the bottom left corner of where the window is going to go. I’ll use the Sawzall to cut out the rectangle, but that’s what I’ve done so far.”
“Are you going to have me praise each and every step of your progress?”
“No, I just thought you’d want to see it because right now it could double as a glory hole.”
“Not for you it couldn’t. That wall has to be at least eight inches thick.”
Deflated, I said, “You may return to your previous position as lawn ornament.”
I pulled out the Sawzall and recalled how a while back Lo and I looked into converting reciprocating saws into sex machines. We ultimately passed on the idea because, after a bit of research, we found that a number of women had sustained serious injuries from the DIY project.
I cut through the wall and hung a tarp over it. That was enough work for one day.
I went to the front porch, opened a cold beer, and watched as Lola played the part of town strumpet for the passersby.
The next day I had to frame the rough cutout I had made. I measured twice to insure cutting once.
With the three-by-six foot gaping hole in the wall, I had a direct view of my little Lo as she allowed her slightly smaller gaping hole be on display in the front yard. She wore the same bikini as the day before and today promised to be a repeat performance.
However, word must have spread among the locals, for now there was pedestrian traffic whereas yesterday there was none. This is a town without sidewalks, mind you. People – excuse me – men had to go out of their way to stroll casually down the street as if they were on an errand. No such errand existed because there was nowhere to go.
One of the men, wearing overalls no less, stopped to ask if John was home.
“Nope,” said Lo, looking him up and down over the top of her dark sunglasses.
“His wife home?” asked the gentleman.
“Nope.”
“Anyone home?”
“Just me and my ole man,” said Lo, pointing her thumb in my direction.
At a loss, the overalls observer moseyed his merry way down the street.
A half hour later another voyeur just happened to be passing by. He was a little more clever than the first one. He politely asked Lo if she might have a glass of water for him on this brutally warm day. This had the desired effect of getting Lo up and letting her strut her way across the lawn back to the house to fetch him some water.
He drank it in one swig, all the while looking Lo over from head to toe.
“Thank you,” he said, realizing his reason for standing there was no longer valid.
I swear, Lo should have been collecting admission fees!
You would think not a single man in this town ever saw a sexy woman.
The third day I was all set to lift the window into the frame and secure it. To my great astonishment, a friendly neighbor came over to offer me some help. He was in his early twenties and he spoke to Lo, who was again lying out in front, first, asking if I wanted a hand with the window.
She directed him my way. I said I’d be happy to have another man help me ease it in and hold it there while I leveled it all out before screwing it in good. I do believe he was eager to do all those things, just not with the window.
He assisted me in the task which took only a quarter of an hour and then he asked if I needed help with anything else. I told him I was all set. The rest was just finishing work I could do myself.
He said he’d get going and he walked up to Lo to say goodbye (and take one more good look at her).
She looked at him over her glasses and said, “Like what you see?”
“Yes, yes I do,” he said.
“You hard?”
“No, not right now.”
“Get hard,” she said.
“What?”
“Get hard and jack off.”
“Here?”
“To me. I like that.”
“Here?” he repeated.
“Where else?” she asked. “I’m sitting here ain’t I?”
“Yes, but.”
“You can keep it in your pants. Just let me see the cum stain when you’re done.”
He reached in his pockets with both hands and, watching her lying there, her meaty mound surrounding the thin thong, and he came within a few minutes.
“Good boy,” said Lo. “Feel better?”
“I can hardly walk, but yeah.”
“Don’t tell anyone about this, ok? It’s our little secret.”
“Sure. See you later,” he said as he hobbled away.
I brought her a cold drink once he was out of eyeshot and she looked up at me, accepting it as if she had ordered it from a cabana boy, and said, “Still got it.”
I should tell you, dear reader, that each and every night, after her hours of daytime display, Lo would be hungry for my cock. Being away from home and her toy chest, she used me to the full extent of my abilities which, as always, was not nearly enough for her. Those nights, I saw her fuck: a broom handle, a bedpost, and a shampoo bottle. None of this is new. I’ve seen it all before, just not in rapid sequence. The retreat to the country was like a recharge of her sexual energy.
“How about tomorrow we go to town and explore a little?” I asked. “I’m nearly done with the window. I can take a day off.”
The next day, instead of Lo donning her microbikini and me sweating away at the carpentry, we put on our rural regalia and ventured out to taste the local flavor. Apropos of the occasion, Lo was wearing her “Daisy Dukes” and a little flannel shirt. She tied the bottom front corners of the shirt into a bow in order to display her midriff. She looked sweet walking down the street in the sunlight. We hit up the nick-nack stores, the antique shop, the bookstore (of course) and grabbed some lunch followed by ice cream.
She got some long stares from passersby on the sidewalk and in the boutiques. In the early afternoon, as we were cruising around the countryside just taking it all in, what should we espy on a desolate corner but the local strip club.
It was COVID times, so the establishment had converted a large part of the rear parking lot into a fenced off cabaret. There was a roughly constructed stage of two-by-fours and plywood, a few small tables and chairs set up for the patrons, and scantily-clad waitresses running drinks from the bar inside to the thirsty men outside.
They were all men, except Lo. Did they think Lo was a stripper when she walked in with me? I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.
We sat down at a table and ordered a couple of beers. We watched the ladies of the hamlet dance and, if I’m being honest, they couldn’t hold a candle to Lo’s flame. The men were intrigued by the female foreigner in their midst and eyed Lo more than they eyed the day’s entertainment. Lo knew it too. She nudged my arm for me to observe the attention she was getting and then nodded in the general direction of the fence where, in handwritten scrawl, a sign was posted that said, “NO MASTURBATING.”
I know the question that was going through Lo’s mind at that moment: Does that apply to women too?
I saw her reach down and undo the button on her shorts, reach her right hand down under them and under her panties (if she was wearing panties), and saw the outline of her small hand rubbing her mons pubis. It made a bulge in the front of her shorts as her bare legs were spread wide and she watched the women on the stage in various states of undress. Her head fell back, her mouth opened just a bit.
Lola outside, short-shorts
To Be Continued. . .
Protected: Family Fan Mail
A Time to Love
Lola’s older sister, Roberta Go
“Gazing at the written world, seeing the elegant self-restraint that guards an inner decomposition, a biological decay until the last moment from the prying eyes of the world; that bilious, sensually disadvantaged ugliness that is able to kindle its smoldering fire into a pure flame and to even usurp the throne in the kingdom of beauty.”
– Death in Venice, Thomas Mann
“Really?” asked Lo as I mixed the gin in with the tonic and sliced up a sliver of lime.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s not even noon.”
“What is time in a global pandemic anyway?”
We were two weeks into lockdown. We were stranded in paradise. Far away from our everyday hustle and bustle, cold weather, friends and family, we followed the dire warnings about travel a week into our winter vacation to the beachside resort town. The sun was shining, the sea breeze gently moderating the temperature, the inviting golden sand beckoning us to walk through it barefoot. But all the amenities of this place were off-limits. One-by-one each pleasurable pastime was shut down, cordoned off, closed – first the bars and restaurants, then the beach itself, and finally the boardwalk. We were allowed to walk on the sidewalks, but that was it. There was nowhere to go anyhow. We could take our lives in our hands and go to the supermarket to get necessities (if we could find them on the bare shelves), but we didn’t want to do that and we made as infrequent visits there as possible.
News of sickness, disease, and death were filtering into every media channel. It seemed that even if we didn’t watch the news, we still couldn’t escape it – it was in the air. The stock market was tumbling down off a cliff, unemployment was spiking, and anxiety was everywhere. We couldn’t hug our neighbors for comfort, for they may be the vicious vector conveying the virus within their sincere attempt at reassurance.
Lola and I were utterly alone on the 25th floor of a resort hotel overlooking the vacant beaches and streets with nothing but the brilliant yellow, blue, and wisps of white for company. On the horizon we could make out three giant cruise ships forbidden from docking for fear of their deadly cargo. We were informed that the virus was rampant and people dropping with asphyxiation on the decks, desperately looking to the shore for some sort of assistance, in vain.
Death surrounded us. So why not have a gin-and-tonic after breakfast? I had plunged into nihilism.
Yes, I still had Lola as my companion, but there was little for me to write about regarding “my sexlife with Lola.” Her trysts, flirtations, and dogging down by the pool area were prohibited by the pandemic. Yes, she still masturbated three, four, five times a day, but I’ve written about that in such detail and with such frequency that there is hardly anything new I could bring to the topic. Our lives beat on with the same monotony as the repetitive waves upon the shore.
Until one day our desperation to escape the gloom of death and destruction was relieved. We found solace in the strangest of places. While preparing for her Friday morning fap session, Lo was doing her usual foreplay routine which includes checking her elicit email account. In it, she discovered a missive from her sister Robie, whom she hadn’t seen for a dozen years or more. Even with me, she had only mentioned her in passing as her “estranged sibling.” All I knew about her was that she was older and residing abroad. How on earth did she find Lo’s secret email account?
After getting the email, Lo called me into the bedroom and explained some of the backstory.
“She’s older and when we were kids we slept in the same bed. It became. . . interesting. . . when she grew boobs. Long story short, we got caught, she got kicked out of the house and sent to boarding school and then to Europe. We were separated for a long time.”
“Why did she suddenly write to you now?” I asked.
“I’m getting there,” said Lo, still naked under the sheets, slowly stroking between her legs as she spoke, “During COVID lockdown she needed something to help her get off. She was scouring the internet to find the really dirty stuff. She came across (and to) our blog and, because I don’t show my face, was fapping to it regularly, not knowing it was me – her sister – that was making her horny, until one day she noticed something that gave me away. She reached out and sent this photo of her with the ebook of Match, Cinder & Spark.”
Robie with our ebook
She showed me the photo. I was in a state of shock; first by the events that led to this interaction and then by the family resemblance I saw between Lo and Robie.
“She’s beautiful,” I uttered unconsciously.
Lo took offense. Always jealous.
“I mean, she looks so much like you. It’s a compliment.”
Apparently Lo, being the younger sister, always took a backseat to Robie. My comment brought back all those jealousy issues.
Since that first email exchange as adults, the two have reconnected on a number of levels, not least of which is that they frequently get off to each other long-distance.
I suppose the ever-present, yet occasionally more pressing, specter of death can reunite as well as rend.
Robie showing that she has been using Lo to get off
Protected: Reentry
Protected: Space
The Master
[Continued from Immoral Support.]
Lo’s Casual Connection Clothes
It was a long, tense time of waiting, but ultimately Cam tested negative for pregnancy. Lo was elated. Not only did it mean that the lucky winner wouldn’t be from the corrupted batch of sperm, but it also meant another session with Ted. Unfortunately, that’s not how it turned out. When the Bat-signal was given, indicating that Cam’s ovulation was at hand, Lo couldn’t make it on the evening when Ted would be there. As a consolation prize, Lo sent Ted a few sexy pics. He reciprocated by sending Lo a photo of him in the act of donating, using Lo’s photo as inspiration. Lo was over the moon with joy and arousal when she saw his pic.
Yet another month passed and the magic potion had not produced the desired effect.
Lo and Ted’s services were required again and this time Lo didn’t disappoint. She showed up early, wearing one of her most slutty outfits – tight jeans, jackpot top, and leather boots.
A Look at Lo
She walked in like a boss and chatted with Cam and Gina as they awaited Ted’s arrival. Lo could tell she had their attention and she liked it. She basks in sexual energy directed at her. Cam and Gina revealed that Ted had shown them the very explicit photo he had used last time. Lo feigned indignation, saying, “That was private! For his eyes only!” But she added, “Well, I guess that makes it ok for me to show you this,” and she proudly displayed the pornographic photo Ted had sent her.
The women had a good laugh about Ted’s less-than-average sized cock, but they both assured Lo of his skill in bed. (I know that I have described Ted’s member as “long, hefty meat,” but I was relying on Lo’s description, prior to the visual evidence.)
Ready to Donate
“I wouldn’t know,” said Lo, referring to their praise of his sexual skill. “I’m here strictly for clinical purposes. It’s purely Pavlovian. I elicit a response that produces the desired effect in order to facilitate the procreative process. It’s quite literally the closest I will ever get to being a biological parent. But it’s a role I’m used to,” she said enigmatically, referring, of course, to her crucial part in bringing about the very writing you are reading. She is the active agent in this alchemical magic causing a conception in the mind.
Ted walked in, greeted the trio, and entered the bedroom. Lo followed.
“Let’s not have any missed opportunities,” said Lo, referring to the trajectory of Ted’s last salvo that had landed so far off target. “I’ll take matters into my own hands this time. Drop your pants,” commanded Lo like a doctor in the examination room.
Ted complied and Lo grabbed the plastic cup in one hand and with the other she stroked Ted’s cock. She did it professionally, detached, again, like a doctor performing a routine exam. He was standing, hunched over. Lo leaned over slightly and whispered in his ear.
“Feel good?”
“Yes.”
“You like how I tug you?”
“Yes.”
“I have a lot of practice. A lot.”
Indecipherable groan.
“You’ll tell me when you’re close.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to cum for me?”
“Yes.”
“Cum for me. Cum for me. Cum for me.”
Did Ted know that Lo was reenacting the scene from The Master in which Amy Adams jacked off Phillip Seymour Hoffman? Need I say, she performed masterfully.
The Master with Amy Adams and Phillip Seymour Hoffman
Cum he did and Lo’s dexterous hands insured that every last drop was collected for its intended use by Cam and Gina.