Category Archives: solo

Sex on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

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[Continued from: Quiver]

When I woke up from my long nap, I found Lo sitting in the cozy chair next to the hotel room bed, on her computer, typing away.

“Whatcha doin’?” I muttered.

“Oh, well, look who has rejoined the land of the living!”

“What time is it?”

“Six.”

“Six?!  I must have been out for like three hours!

“About three and a half.”

“What have you been up to?”

“This, that.”

“Right.”

I slid like a sloth over the bed toward the chair and peeked over her computer to see what she was doing.  As I suspected, she was chatting up people on social media.  NSFW social media.

“You want to see?”

“OK.”

She showed me.  One guy had messaged her, “What are you wearing?”  Another messaged her “Do you like cum?”  She posted a pic of herself covered in cum and said, “Answered two-in-one.”  She thought for a moment.  “Hmmmm, two-in-one – that’s my favorite sex position!”

“It’s too early for your humor,” I grumbled.

“What are we going to do, Daddio?” she asked, excited and perky, as she shut her computer.

“What about your virtual gentlemen callers, Lo?  Are you just going to leave them hanging like that?”

“No worries.  They’ll jack off to my photos and show me the evidence later.  They’re ok.”

“Twenty-first Century romance at its finest.”

“You want to go out?”

“I’m not a dog.”

“If only.”

“I don’t want to go out,” I said.  “I want a coffee, three Ibuprofen, and a shower, in that order.”

“What’s the matter, ole man?”

“Day drinking, day fucking, sun stroke, and probably death.”

“Then this is heaven,” she said, spreading her legs and stroking her pussy.  Did I mention she was naked in that chair?

“Lo, please.”

“It’s alright,” she said, “I already came.”

“When don’t you cum?  Honestly.”

“What restaurant tonight?”  She was persistent.

“How about tonight we just order room service.  We have a five o’clock flight in the morning.”

She pouted.

“Lo, too much of a good thing. . .”

“Is a better thing!”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“Fine, fine,” she said.

A little later we got our dinner delivered and put on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.  As we watched it, I turned to her and said, “You are definitely Neal Page,” (the Steve Martin character).

“And you are definitely Del,” (the John Candy character).

“Glad we agree on something.”

We went to bed early.  No sex.  At least not for me.  What she did, I don’t know because I fell right to sleep.

The next day, she was not having it.  Morning, that is.

When I woke her, she said, “It’s dark outside.  This is not a time.”

“Lo, it’s three-thirty.  We have to get to the airport, drop off the rental car, and get through security.”

“Three-thirty is late afternoon.”

“There are two of them.  This is the other one.”

“I don’t like it,” she said.  She put her head under the pillow.

“We have to get going,” I pleaded.

She finally got herself together and we were in the rental car driving to the airport.  The whole way Lo was complaining.  I knew it was because the sun had not even begun to rise yet.  She is a nocturnal animal, but an early bird she is not.

“Look,” I finally said out of frustration, “if you want to actually be Neal Page, then you can walk the rest of the way.”

“OK, Del,” she said snidely.

“Might I remind you that Del was kind-hearted, upbeat, jovial, and he also got them out of every hopeless situation they found themselves in.”

“Are you kidding me?  If it wasn’t for Neal and all his money, they never would have gotten out of St. Louis.  Del just used Neal because Del was broke.  Del was a manipulator, a freeloader, a grifter.”

“Del was happy.  Neal was a miserable, uptight, meanspirited, asshole.”

“Neal had a job and a family.  Del sold shower curtain rings, was homeless, and had no one.”

“He was a widower!  His wife died!  He probably loved her so much that he went to pieces after she passed away.”

“Pshhhaw,” she said dismissively.

“Are you honestly telling me that you think Neal was the better of the two characters?”

“Yes.”

“Del taught Neal how to enjoy life.  Del was well-liked all across the Midwest.  Everywhere they went, he knew people and they went out of their way to help him.  He must have been a nice guy.  Neal knew no one.”

“Neal had a real job and didn’t go door-to-door.”

“Why are we fighting about this?” I finally said to Lo.

“You know,” she replied back, “you just missed the exit to the airport.”

“What?”

“Yeah.  You were so caught up in being right that we drove clear passed it.”

“Fuck!”

She pulled out her phone and was figuring out how to get to the car rental place.

In the distance I could see the sun just breaking through the horizon.

“I know why you’re so argumentative,” I said to Lo.  “You didn’t get to jill it this morning.”

“Duh.”

“Well, go on.  It only takes you a minute.  After all, Del said that Neal’s worst trait was he was always fidgeting with his balls.”

“And Del’s worst trait was he never shut up,” she said as she slid her hand down her pants.

When we got to the airport and were driving up the parking garage toward the car rental return, she said, “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Just pull into a parking spot.  I’ll finish here.”

I did as she said, but warned her, “Be quick about it.  We’re already running late.”

I backed in so I could see if anyone or any cars were coming while Lo was intent on cumming, but the place, the time pressure, the stress of it all made the five minutes of diddling the bean all for naught.

“Fuck,” she said, but not in a good way.  “Let’s just go.”  She removed her hand from her jeans and buttoned them up.  I drove us to the proper destination for the rental and we made it to our flight just on time.

We boarded and buckled in for our four hour flight back home.  Lo pulled out her noise cancelling headphones and plugged them into her phone.  After we were in the air, Lo turned something on and that something turned her on.

She asked the flight attendant for a blanket.  That could only mean one thing.

She draped the blanket over her legs and dove down with her favorite fap finger and soon she was clenching her knees together.  That took all of three or four minutes and then another three or four minutes after that, Lo was sound asleep with her headphones still on.

Out of curiosity, I removed her headphones gently from her head and listened.  She had the audio of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl playing, as read by the incomparable Jupiter Grant.  Unbelievable.  Never have I met such a vain, narcissistic nymphomaniac.  She actually got off to herself getting off!  Well, that and Ms. Grant’s sexy reading voice.  I was a bit flattered since I had written the words that brought her to climax.  Better than writing for Hallmark. [See NOTE]

Just before we landed, I woke Lo to avoid her being startled by the bump when the wheels hit the tarmac.  I told her she might want to button up her pants.  She did so.

When we got out into the brutally cold weather of the Northeast, we tried desperately to get a Lyft, an Uber, or a taxi, but since this was the second most travelled day of the year, they were all a long wait.  We ended up taking the subway right at the height of rush hour.

As usual on our return flight, Lo was terribly underdressed for the weather back home.  She only had on her skin-tight jeans, her striped jackpot top, and a leather jacket.  Because of the biting cold, even after we got on the subway, her nipples were protruding right through the already shapely and revealing shirt.  The suits on their way to the office took notice and Lo basked in their attention, especially insofar as I was well aware of it.  She likes to tease them and me simultaneously.

She gave me a sidelong glance and ran her tongue over her sparkly white teeth as she pressed up a little closer to one suit when the crush of people got on at the next stop.

I’ll admit, it made me rigid and uncomfortable.

When we got out of the crowded subway car, I turned to Lo and said, “You’re so lucky I love you, because any other man would leave you after a ride like that.”

“Save it for home,” she said.  “That wasn’t the last ride of the day.  You have one more to give me.”

As soon as we got in the door and dropped the bags, she took me by the hand into the bedroom.  “Why do you ignore me so much, Daddy?”

“Ignore you?!  Lo, I lavish attention on you.”

“You don’t show it.”

“You mean, I don’t show it the way strangers in a subway show it.”

“Yeah,” she said, dropping her pants, sliding out of her pink thong, and lifting up her striped shirt, no bra.  “Come here and warm me up,” she said.

I got naked and in the bed next to her and she wrapped her bare body around mine.

“You know why I tease them and flirt with all those hard-up husbands on social media, don’t you?”

“Enlighten me, Lo.”

“Because I’m just trying to get your attention.  It’s all for you.”

Suddenly the lyrics to the song by Janet Jackson were floating through my mind.  I was in a delirious dream state.  She climbed on me and all I could hear in my head was, “Guess I’m goanna have ride it tonight.”

Up and down she posted, saying to me, “Cum in me.  Cum in me.  Cum deep in me.  Give me your attention.  Give it to me.  Give it all to me.  I want it.  I want it all.  I need it.  I need more.  I need more.  Fuck, I need it.  Fuck me.  Fuck me.  Fuck me Daddy.”

I saw her fire-engine-red fingernails down over her clit.  I felt her fingers pry up and into her snatch.  She wiggled them deeper inside, up along the top of my shaft as she lifted her hips up, and then she delved in deeper as she lowered her wet crotch down to the base of my cock.

Now it was just her and me fucking in the cold sunshine back home.  No strippers.  No beach girls in string bikinis.  No musclebound men mounting Lola like a stray bitch in heat found wandering around the boardwalk.  No sexting hard husbands, willing wives, and curious couples looking for a cheap thrill.  No chatting up lustful ladies or seducing single men with her virtual vagina over the internet.  No.  None of that.  Now it was just the two of us fucking.

“Where do you want me to cum?  Show me with your finger,” I said as I felt myself getting close.

“Right here,” she said, wiggling her index finger on her g-spot.

“Now?”

“Now.”

I ejaculated right onto her fingertips lodged deep inside her hole.

When I had given her her fill, I slid out and she pulled her sticky little hand and licked each finger as if she had just made cake batter and got it on her hand.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said as she collapsed on me and fell asleep.

I knew she was asleep because her breathing had changed and when her phone buzzed, she didn’t move.

I reached over to the nightstand and picked up her phone.  It was one of her internet friends.  I read the message: “Hey Lo, my wife is in the shower.  I’ve got about five minutes.  Do you think you could help me cum?”

[NOTE: The Audiobook is not out yet.  Lo was listening to Jupiter Grant’s raw recording.  Expected release date: Valentine’s Day, 2020.  Stay tuned!]

Thigh Gap

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Because of her trysts with Robert, Lola stopped fucking me for a while.  I turned to my right-hand woman: Stoya.  But Lola found out.  Don’t ask me how.  A woman’s sixth sense, I suppose.  Lola told me I can have whatever I want, so long as I ask for it.  But I’m too proud to ask.  I’m used to being asked by her.

I went into the bedroom and I texted to Lo, who was in the living room, “Hello Stoya, It’s just you and me now.”

She texted back, “If you want something, ask for it.”

I responded, “Come here and jack me off.”

She entered the bedroom and said, “I’ll jack you off, on one condition.”

I didn’t say anything or even move.

“Do you hear me?”

“I’m all ears. . . and a dick.”

“After I jack you off, you will write that story about me and Robert.”

“You expect me to write on commission?!  I’ve never been more insulted in my life!  I’m an artist, a poet, a philosophical. . .”

“A pompous ass and a purveyor of pornographic smut.”

“Now that’s just redundant.”

“No, it would be smut writing even without the pornographic images of me.  The pornography just makes it fun to look at as well.”

“Fair enough, but still unfair to my artistic sensibilities.”

“You’re not sensible at all!  You’re the furthest from sensible.  You’re immersed in your senses.  That’s why you’re such a great writer of erotica.”

“Well, now you’re pandering to my vanity.”

“Your vanity is six-fifths of your ego.”

“And?”

“Never mind.  Are you going to write the story or what?”

“Of course I’m going to write the story, but not because you’re going to give me a hand-job.  I’m going to write for art!  Art!  Do you hear me?”

“Who’s this fella Art?  Have I fucked him?”

“Droll, dear, very droll.”

We both got naked and I placed my cock in a prominent position above her naked body.  Her legs were spread and her pussy lips were wet and partially parted.

“Why do you only want me to jack you off when you have your cock poised right between my pussy lips?”

“Because,” I retorted snidely, “if you want something, you have to ask for it.”

She reached between her legs and began slowly stroking me.  Then she got an idea.  She grabbed Stoya from the nightstand and applied her wetness to Stoya’s pussy.  She then bent over the side of the bed and put the entire contraption between her legs; the imitation pussy just below her actual pussy.

“Fuck the pussy you want,” she said.

Just to get her goat, I fucked Stoya.

She turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I’m fucking Stoya.  No kidding,” I said.

I liked being able to see her hole as I filled the insentient being held in place by her thigh gap.

I continued like that, as she grew bored and impatient.  As I felt myself leading up to a climax, I pulled out of Stoya and flipped Lo on her back in order that she would feel the heat of my love on every part of her body except between her legs.  (Also, cleaning my cum out of Stoya is a pain in the ass.)  After mopping up the cum on her face, neck, and tits, she pulled out her Hitachi.

“Are you just going to sit there?” she asked me as she placed the vibrating toy between her legs.

“That’s exactly what I was planning on doing,” I said, “so you can ejaculate on me and we can call it even.”

“As fun as that sounds,” she said, “you have work to do.  Go get writing while I get myself off.”

Holding On Comes Easy

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[Continued from “Lusting for Infidelity“]

Lola and Imogen had gone to bed together, leaving Robert and me alone in the kitchen.  He looked over to me quizzically and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Oh well.  May the best man win – and this time it was a woman.”

I looked back at him, smirked, and said, “Join me for a drink?”

He put down the towel with which he was drying the dishes, pulled out two tumblers from the cupboard, got some ice and pulled out a bottle of scotch.  He poured a glass for me and one for him.  A heavy pour.  I looked at the bottle and said to him, “Eighteen-years-old.  Old for a whisky, young for a woman.”

He laughed and we went outside by the fire.  Not without irony, we both got under the heavy wool blanket and were side-by-side on the outdoor couch, our feet warmed by the flames in front of us.  We were cozy next to each other, slowly sipping our drinks, laughing, and chatting as we gazed into the flickering light.

As I have mentioned, dear reader, prior to the whole ménage à trois with Lo, Robert and I were actually good friends and closely collaborating colleagues.  But ever since Lo literally and metaphorically came between us, we have grown apart.  It was good to share a drink, share a laugh, share a blanket, and share a bed with him without sharing Lo’s body for a change.

We got to talking about philosophy, art, and poetry.  In a reflective voice, I said to Robert: “We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go.  For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.”

“What’s that from?” he asked.

“Rilke’s ‘Requiem.’  One of his most beautiful poems,” I said.

We both pondered the words in silence when, out of the darkness, who should appear but Lo, bare-assed as the day she was born.  She was tiptoeing toward us.

“Isn’t this cute,” she said, looking at the two of us, “two penises in a pod.”

“That’s not the expression,” I said.

“Shut up and make room for me,” she said, “it’s freezing out.”

Robert and I each moved to our respective sides and Lo nestled her naked body between the two of us.  “What are you two up to?” she asked, suggestively.

“Just reciting poetry,” said Robert.

“Really?!”

“Yes,” I said  “And what have you and Imogen been up to?”

“Nothing,” she said with a pout.  “She just fell right to sleep.  That’s why I’m here now.”

“Because you’re interested in reciting poetry by firelight under the stars?” I asked.

“What a romantic,” said Lo, rubbing my leg under the blanket.  “No, because I’m interested in seeing which one of you is going to cum first.  My money is on HH since he didn’t cum earlier.”

As she said this, she was reaching down my pants with her right hand and reaching down Robert’s pants with her left, fumbling for our firewood.

“My hands are so cold,” she said.  “Warm them up.”

Each of us loosened our belts and undid our pants so she could have an easier time creating friction for her chilly palms.  Her tits were exposed to the cool air and her nipples were hard.  She turned to Robert first and kissed him for a bit and then she turned to me and entwined her tongue with mine, never letting go of her twin possessions.

Soon both Robert and I were turned toward her, our rods pointing at her as she stroked them masterfully.  Robert was fondling her breasts and I was reaching down to her puss.  I could feel how wet she was.  She could feel how hard I was.  I know she felt my cock throbbing in her hand, ready to explode.  She held even more tightly.  Soon I was ejaculating in rhythmic spurts all over her hips.  When I was done, I stood up and let her lick me clean, allowing Robert to see my flaccid manhood in her mouth.  Then it was his turn and he covered her in his own icing as she gave him the attention he needed at the moment.  He imitated my actions by standing up to allow her lick the very last drops from his cock.

When she was done, she said, “I’m going to take a shower.  You two get naked and I’ll meet you in bed.”

Both Robert and I did as we were told and Lo arrived in bed soon thereafter.  Robert, who had cum twice that evening, was depleted.  I was no better.  Lo engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between the two of us.

Autoerotica

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Lo, at it again

            “Come,” I heard her yell from the bedroom down the hall as I walked into the house after a long Friday at work.  She might have been saying “Cum!” to a lover.  There’s never any way to tell from the sound of her voice – only on the page. 

            I cautiously walked down the long hall to the bedroom.  What would I find?

            The door was open a crack.  I peeked in.  She was naked, on her tum, her round rump nicely illuminated by the setting sun.  Her legs were bent at the knees and her bare feet dangled up in the air, twined around each other.  In her hand she held her phone. 

            “Come in, Daddio,” she said without turning her eyes from the screen in front of her. 

            I walked in and removed my jacket and tie. 

            “What you up to?” I inquired.

            “I bet you’d like to know.”

            “That is why I asked,” I said flatly as I removed my shirt and undid my belt. 

            “Get naked, get hard, and get in me,” she commanded.

            “I’m already hard,” I said.

            “As you should be,” she replied, moving her hand to her mouth, licking her fingers and then moving her hand to her ass and circling her wet fingers around her special spot. 

            “Oh,” I commented, “You want it like that?”

            “No, Daddio,” she said, “I’m just enjoying myself.”

            Always coy when it comes to her ass.  Always for someone else, or for her own pleasure, but never for me. 

            I got behind her and tried to look at her phone by leaning forward over her back and seeing over her shoulder. 

            “Get up there and fuck me,” she instructed, her finger still rounding her sweet spot as I slid into her puss.  “I’ll tell you what I’m looking at.”

            I did as she said and she told me that a fellow blogger, a woman named TJ, wrote to us saying, “I love reading your blog.  It gets me so wet.”

            “Really?!  Do I know this TJ?” I asked as I thrusted harder.

            “She writes The Lustful Empress.”

            I slowed down a bit trying to remember which erotic blog that was.

            “Don’t stop!” Lo said as her hand grabbed the girth of my cock and she pushed her ass back into my hips, bouncing off of my bare bodkin. 

            I resumed my powerful, pleasurable, pelvic pounding. 

            “Look,” she said, putting her phone up on her back for me to read the email.  It said:

I love how accepting you are of Lola’s magnificent sexuality. You guys seem to have ‘it’ don’t you? I wish I could masturbate as openly as you do, Lola. I feel self-conscious, like an addict or something. But I fucking love fucking myself. . . it’s the best. I am more autosexual than anything else I think. Keep celebrating each other.

Fan mail like that makes it all worth it.  Well, that’s not completely true.  I know that I would be writing all this whether no one read it, or only one person read it – Lola.  But knowing that others read it, enjoy it, and get off to it is the icing on the cake. 

            Speaking of icing, as I read the email, Lo began to climax as one hand worked her ass and the other, from underneath, worked her clit.  Her Kegel muscles contracted and I was squeezed out of her as she curled into a convulsing, throbbing ball, squirting uncontrollably.  The more she pushed her knees up to her breasts in a tightly bound fetal position, the more she sprayed the bed and my knees.  I lifted up her phone to prevent it from being ruined by the liquid. 

TJ, author and model of The Lustful Empress, getting off to Lo

            “Fuuuu-uuuuck,” she groaned as the last bit of lady juice spurted out of her.

            When she regained control of her limbs, she slowly got up and pulled the soaked sheets with her, dropping them in the laundry basket.  “I’ll clean up, Daddy, but right now I have to get ready.”

            “Ready for what?” I asked, holding my throbbing, hard rod in my hand.

            “My date.”

            “Date?”

            “With Robert.  I told you, didn’t I?”

            I just looked dumbfounded. 

            “We’re going to the movies.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes.”

            “And what are you seeing?”

            “The Favourite.”

            “Is he your favorite now?” I asked, demoralized.

            “No, Daddio, she said, caressing me and looking up at me with those beautiful big brown eyes.  “That’s the name of the movie.  It’s a period piece.”

            “Really?  Not a porno?”

            “Well, I hear it has a lot of woman-on-woman sex scenes.”

            “I knew it!”

            “But that’s not why we’re going to see it.”

            “You’re going to see it to have sex in a crowded theater.”

            “Oh, Daddy, you always impute to me the most debased of motives.”

            “So why are you going to see it?”

            “It’s historical.  It has great sets, acting, and costumes.”

            “And?”

            “And probably to fuck in a dark theater.”

            “Don’t get caught.”

            “But getting caught is at least half the fun.  Does that make you jealous?” she asked, as her hand stroked my hard cock. 

            “So you’re leaving me home alone on a Friday night?”

            “Not totally alone,” she said, “You have TJ.”

            “Who?”

            “TJ, the woman from the blog.”

            “Oh, right,” I said to my consolation prize.

            Lola made the bed and I watched her tits droop as she bent over to tuck in the sheets.  Her naked body moved like a delightful dance as she unfurled the blanket. 

            “Look,” she said, as she hopped back in the bed and took up her phone.  I sat next to her.  Her left hand stroked my hard erection up and down as she scrolled through TJ’s blog with her right hand. 

            We read and looked at the photos together. 

Lola
TJ of The Lustful Empress

            “She sounds like she could be your twin sister,” I said as I read about how TJ becomes aroused by her own naked body. 

            “Hold this,” she said, giving me the phone. 

            Now, with her right hand she was stroking her pussy and I scrolled through the blog. 

            “Oh boy,” I said, “You want her.” 

            Lo bit her lower lip.

            “Lo,” I cautioned, “You just made the bed.  You don’t want to. . .”

            Before I could finish my sentence, she had jumped off the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before releasing her ejaculate all over the tile floor with a scream. 

            When she had regained her composure, she got some paper towels and got on her hands and knees to clean up the mess. 

            “What time is your movie?”

            “Eight,” she called back.  “But we’re meeting for drinks first.”

            “Well, you’re going to be late,” I told her. 

            She jumped in the shower and I continued to look at the blog, hard up. 

            “Hey,” she called to me, “you’re not allowed to cum.  You know that, right?”

            “I still don’t understand how that is fair,” I said, taunting her.

            I got up and looked at her in the shower.

            “Get!” she screamed.  She hates when I see her in her shower cap. 

            “How is it fair that you get to cum twice and then go on a date with another man and I’m not allowed any autoerotica myself?”

            “First,” she said from behind the shower curtain, “it’s not autoerotic if you use someone else’s pictures.  Second, you didn’t count the three times I came before you got home.”

            “Lo, now you’re just. . .”

            “And third,” she cut me off, “this has nothing to do with fairness.  It has everything to do with me.  What I want.  What I allow you.  Got that?  Don’t forget it.”

            Lo jumped out of the shower and hastily dried off before slipping into a blue dress and blue heels.  No panties. 

            “You’re going to be cold like that,” I cautioned.

            “I’m planning on things heating up quickly,” she said. 

            Soon enough she was out the door, leaving me alone. 

            I scrolled through TJ’s blog, which I recalled I had seen before, and I thought to myself, “She said no cumming, but she didn’t say no edging.” 

            I spent about an hour going through each and every post before I thought to myself, “If I don’t stop this right now, I’m going to explode!” 

Stoya Left, Lola Right

            In order to take the edge off, I switched to photos of Lo, which are always fair game, and I pulled out the old Stoya Fleshlight.  Lubing up Stoya and myself, I imagined what Lo was up to with Robert.  I didn’t even need to see Lo’s photos.  Soon enough I was cumming and cumming hard and deep in Stoya’s pussy, just thinking about Lo in a dark theater, legs spread, and Robert discretely moving his hand up her smooth thigh until reaching that wet pussy, pulsating with anticipation.  Gently he would rub and flick her pussy lips, clandestinely making her cum.  I pictured her hands gripping the seat and her upper teeth biting down on her bottom lip to prevent the scream from escaping her mouth.  That was enough to bring me over the edge and release me into a deep sleep. 

Clickbait

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“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. 

Lo is very wet

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:

  1. It is an instrument of pleasure.
  2. It is a canvass for cum.
  3. It inspires creativity.
  4. It drives people crazy.
  5. It drives me crazy.
  6. 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. 

Painting on Canvas

            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. 

How about this?

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

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

Lovelorn, Loveporn

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            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. 

Lo’s Bed Spread

            “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?”

Reading Notes of a Dirty Old Man

“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.”

Accessory to a Masturbator

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Lo’s Nightly Companion – Her Phone

            I was asleep, to begin with.  There is no doubt whatever about that.  It was 4:45 in the a.m. and I was stirred from my slumber by the sonorous buzz of Lo’s vibrator, the rhythmic rattle of the bed, and the blue glow illuminating her face that was so contorted with a look of singular focus and intensity that I thought I was seeing a ghost.  She was lying on her tum, both hands buried under the covers and under her body, the phone propped up on a pillow about six inches in front of her.  From the sound of the Hitachi’s hum and the shaking of the bed, I deduced that she was working her clit with the Magic Wand and her puss with a dildo, leaving no hands free. 

            I opened one eye first and, upon seeing her apparition, I surprised myself with my ability to remain inconspicuous.  I didn’t stir.  I tried to give no hint that I was, in fact, awake – inconsiderately propelled out of my torpor.  I saw her struggle to keep the pleasure points stimulated while simultaneously fumbling through her phone for images. 

            Acutely aware that no mortal would be able to withstand the auto-erotic stimuli that Lo was producing, I announced my awakening by asking Lo, “Can I help you?”

            I was hoping she would be grateful if I would get behind her, replacing her dildo, freeing up one hand so she could scroll through the photos.  But no. 

            “Yeah,” she said, not surprised and unconcerned that I was awake, “swipe left.” 

            I did as she commanded.  I looked at her phone and there were pics of men, women, couples – all getting off to her photos.  As she gazed at each image, she took in the content, and then said, “Swipe.” 

A fan

            She was demanding, insistent, and a tad rude about it.  But she had a goal and nothing was going to get in her way – certainly not good manners. 

            “Swipe,” she said.  I did as told.  Another photo of a guy jacking to her pics.

An Enthusiastic Fan

            “Swipe.”  A photo of a woman jilling to Lo. 

            “Swipe.”  A picture of a couple; the woman gives the guy a blowjob as Lo’s image is on the computer in front of them.

Stella’s Tribute

            “Swipe.”  A man with what looks to be a 12 inch cock.  He holds it with two hands as if wielding it like a weapon.  I hear Lo whisper, “Fuck.”  She scrunched up her legs under her like an inchworm.  The bed rattled.  It’s a big, heavy, solid bed.  It takes a lot for it to rattle. 

Lo said, “Fuck!”  Louder this time.  More angry almost.  I heard the Hitachi click into high gear.  Lo squeezed her eyes closed tightly. 

“FUCK!!!” she called out.  I heard the dildo shoot out of her followed by the sounds of her geyser gushing onto the bed.  She convulsed, clutching the bed sheets, burying her head in the pillow and screaming at the top of her lungs: “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!”

Then silence.  Peace.  Stillness. 

She struggled to lift her head.  When she did, she looked at me.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks. 

“You ok?” I asked.

She nodded, a little ashamed. 

“Feel better?”

She nodded again.

“Ready to sleep?”

She nodded a third time. 

I pulled her head to my chest where she rested it comfortably.  One wet leg was lying flat on the bed nest to my leg.  She lifted the other wet leg and placed it over my legs, parallel to her arm which reached around my chest.  She was wrapped around me like a marsupial clinging to a tree.  I felt her puss still slippery and perhaps ejaculating a dribble more like a leaky faucet on my hips. 

I kissed her forehead and said, “Sleep.”  There was no need.  I could tell by her breathing that she was already in dreamland.   

Meanwhile, my cock was rock hard as the first light of dawn began to illuminate the windows. 

Caught

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            Lo came home from work late that night.  I had already eaten dinner and was lying on the couch engaging in my favorite illicit pastime while Lo’s away, watching “SMILF.”  She walked in just as Frankie Shaw was engaging in a self-pleasure solo session, which isn’t all that coincidental, given how often she does that in the show.  (Since Frankie Shaw writes and directs the series, I think that she secretly wishes to be a porn star.) 

Lo Likes Little Penis Porn

            Lo stood next to the couch looking down at me, judging hard. 

            “What?”

            “You know what,” she said, accusatorily. 

            “I was just. . .”

            “I don’t care what you were just.  Turn it off.  If you want to see a sexy woman engaged in sex-for-one, then get in the bedroom.  I’ll be there filling my snatch full of fun.”

            I shut off the episode and met Lo in the bedroom where she was on the bed, legs spread, dildos laid out next to her like a surgeon’s tray of scalpels, forceps, and clamps.  She had her phone in her left hand.

            “What’s that?” I asked.

            “I call it my ‘in box.’  It likes to be filled.”

            I didn’t know if she meant what she was looking at on her phone or her beautiful mons pubis, which at the moment she was about to penetrate with her long, red, double-ended dildo.  

Self-Care

            I removed my clothes and sat in the bed next to her, vying for her attention.  She was busy reading something.  I inquired. 

            “I’m reading about my friend and blogger, Nero Black.  His wife caught him about to masturbate.”

            “Oh really?”

            “Yeah,” she said, easing the dildo into her tight taco.  “His wife loves to read erotica and masturbate, but she never lets him get in on the goods.”

            “How does he know her reading habits?”

            “He has access to her Kindle subscription and sees what she downloads.”

            “Oh.”

            “And he’s hard-up as a result.”

            “I bet you find that an open invitation to flirt.”

            “Who wouldn’t?  Anyhow, the other night he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his pants and boxers around his ankles, his phone in one hand and his cock in the other, when she unexpectedly walked into the bedroom.”

            “Uh-oh.  And?”

            “And she ignored him!  She acted like she didn’t even see it.”

            “And that gets you off?”

            “No, what gets me off is imagining that the porn she reads is our blog and that the porn he was about to wank to was my photos.”

            She dropped the phone and lay on her back to continue the fantasy.   

“Did you ever get caught?” I asked her.

“Caught?  Doing what?”

“You know, jillin’ it.”

“No.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Not by any of your previous boyfriends?”

“Look, it’s not something I hide.  If they found me jillin’ off, then I kept on going.  So it’s not like ‘getting caught.’  It’s more like putting on a show.”

And put on a show she did, without ever offering to provide me with any sweet relief.  Punishment for my “infidelity” watching Frankie Shaw. 

Mano a Mano

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            “Why don’t you just jack it like a real man?” she complained.

            “Because I prefer fucking your flapper to fucking my fist,” I responded.

            “But Daddy,” she said, in a nicer tone now, “don’t you know that I find it hot to see a man masturbating?”

            “Any man, masturbating to anything, or certain men, masturbating to you?”

            “I prefer men to masturbate to me, but seeing any man masturbating to anything still turns me on,” she said as she was rubbing her puss under the covers.  “Please, Daddy, just stoke it for me, over me, to me.” 

            “Maybe I’ll just get my Stoya Fleshlight,” I said, trying to arouse her jealousy so she’d give herself over to me completely. 

            “No!  If you do, I’ll get out my horse cock dildo and my Hitachi!”

            “That sounds fair. . . and fun!”

            “No,” she said, “I want you to use your hand and I’ll finger-fuck my holes.”

            “Fine,” I said, more willing to concede due to the prospect of watching her.  I pulled down the covers, got between her legs, grabbed my hard member, and pulled at it for her to see.

            “That’s it Daddio,” she said as she spread her legs wide, began inserting the fingers of her right hand into her puss and slid her left hand around from underneath her ass to penetrate her posterior place.

            “Did you make every man you were with masturbate for you?”

            “I didn’t have to make them,” she said.  “They volunteered.” 

            “Tell me about it.”

            “There are so many.  Which one?”

            “Tell me about Teddy.” 

            Teddy was her fuck-buddy in college.  A tall, lean, basketball player with an enormous cock. 

            “I’d lie in his dorm room bed and he’d stand over me with his huge black cock right over my face.  It was as long as my entire head.  He’d drop his balls in into my mouth and grab his rod with both hands.  Both hands!” she said with emphasis.  “He’d stoke it over me as I lay naked on the bed and then, when he came, he shot all the way down to my knees and covered me with his hot jizz up to my chin.” 

            I could tell that as she told me this story, she was on the verge of climaxing herself.  But she held back. 

            “Tell me about Gerald.”

            Gerald was also a college fuck friend.  The opposite of Teddy in every way, except Gerald was also an athlete – a bodybuilder whose bulging biceps attracted Lo until she found that he had a micropenis. 

            “He was so self-conscious about his size that, no matter how much I wanted to take him in my mouth, he was resistant.  My natural attraction for women made the prospect of licking that little clit so appealing, especially since he shaved it and his balls clean.  He wore a teensy-tiny speedo when he worked out.  It was like he was wearing panties.  I wanted to pleasure him with my lips and tongue all the time, since I obviously didn’t feel him in either of my holes,” she said as she fingered both of her holes more deeply. 

            “Did he jack it for you?”

            “It was the only way he could cum.  He’d pull that little pimple with his thumb and index finger as he stood over me, just like Teddy did, and then he’d ejaculate all over my face.  It was the only way he could feel dominant.”

            “How often did he do that?”

            “Countless times.  It always left me unsatisfied, but I liked it nonetheless.” 

            “You never met a cock you didn’t like.” 

            “Don’t stop,” she said, looking at my cock as my stroking slowed.  I pulled harder, longer, faster.  “That’s it,” she said.  Her whole hand was almost fully submerged in her pussy and two fingers were going at her perineum.

            “Tell me about Tim,” I said.  Tim was her beau before college and, since he was older and Lo significantly younger, sex with Lo was off-limits for him.  That didn’t mean that Lo didn’t try.  Lo always finds a way. 

            “He’s probably the one responsible for my male masturbation mania.  The only way he got off was by masturbating.  I would be fully clothed and saying sexy, naughty, dirty things to him like I’m doing for you right now, and he would jack it until he came.”

            “Where’d he cum?  On your face?”

            “No.  He’d cum into my hands.  I’d hold them out like I was receiving an offering and then I’d lick them clean like a kitten licking a bowl of milk.  He loved that.” 

            That was too much for her.  She came and came hard.  Her pussy and sphincter clutching and contracting on her deeply driven digits before eventually dilating again.  When she recovered, she looked at me and said, “You didn’t cum.” 

            “No.”

            “That’s not fair, Daddy.”

            “I don’t think so either,” I said.  “Why don’t you give me a hand-job?”

            “Because I’m going to fall asleep now,” she said.

            “That’s fine, just position your left hand like you’re giving the ‘OK’ sign, and I’ll do the rest.” 

            She complied.  I lay next to her and inserted my cock.  She said, “You’re just using me as a sex object.”

            I didn’t know what to say to that, but luckily she followed up the comment with, “And I like it.  It’s so soothing.” 

            Reviewing in my mind’s eye the stories she told, looking at her naked body next to me, I came and came hard all over her.  She had drifted off to sleep.  I grabbed a washcloth, wet it with warm water, and gently cleaned her off.  I kissed her mouth good night and lay next to her thinking about what a good bad girl she is.

            The next morning I awoke to find her face bobbing up and down on my erect shaft.

            “Lo?” I asked.

            She popped off of my knob and said, “I’m sorry you didn’t cum last night, Daddy.  Let me make it up to you.” 

            I didn’t disabuse her of that belief until after she accomplished her mission.  When I did, she just said, “You dirty dog!”

            “What?” I asked, innocently.  “You told me last night you wanted me to cum.  Was that just lip service?”

            “No it wasn’t.  But what I just did for you was.”

Living the Dream

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Image by Timo Schmidt, Model: Lola Down

            It was the first of the month.  Lo and I have a little tradition of saying “Rabbit, rabbit,” to each other on the first of the month.  I woke up next to her and I whispered it to her. 

            “More like ‘grab it, grab it,’” she replied.

            “What?  Why?”

            “Because, you were clinging to me all night, grabbing my tits, stroking my puss.”

            “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said.

            “Don’t be,” she retorted, “I liked it.  But it gave me crazy dreams.”

            “Like what?”

            “I dreamed that we were on vacation in Hawaii with our friends.  We had rented a minivan, but I just needed to get off.  The minivan was old, loud, and rumbly.  I pulled out my Hitachi from my suitcase and began using it.  I was about to cum when someone noticed.  So I put it away.”

            “That’s not like you.”

            “Yeah,” she said, “it was a dream.  Next thing I knew, we were on the beach and my Hitachi was in my hand.  I put it down my bikini bottoms.”

            “There are no electrical outlets on the beach.”

            “It was a dream.”

            “Right.”

            “And I was about to climax when I opened my eyes and suddenly saw that there was a crowd of people surrounding me, watching me.  So I stopped again.”

            “Again, not like you.”

            “This starting and stopping, edging and trying again went on a lot.”

            “Do you want to get off now?”

            “So badly.”

            “Do you want your Hitachi or me?”

            “Tough question.”

            “Which do you like more?”

            “My Hitachi.”

            “Really?”

            “Then you.”

            “Oh.”

            “Then my Hitachi again.”

            “I see.”

            “My Hitachi is like icing on the cake.  No matter how good the cake is, you always want icing after it.”

            “But you said your Hitachi first.”

            “Well, you always want icing.  But just icing isn’t as good as icing with cake.”

            “So, what do you want now?  Do you want your Hitachi as I jack it over you?”

            “That sounds good.”

            She pulled out her Hitachi from under the bed.  She turned it on.  She spread her legs and placed it between them.  I was on my knees over her, pulling at my long, hard shaft, watching her every move. 

            “You know,” I said, “I had a dream too.”

            She didn’t reply.

            “I dreamt that you were out on a date with a tall, think, dark Jamaican man with long dreadlocks.  I found the two of you in the front row of a movie theater making out.”

            “The front row?” she asked.  “That’s a bit conspicuous.”

            “It was a dream.”

            “I like it.”

            “And then I came home and found the two of you on the couch, still making out.”

            “Were you jealous?”

            “No, I was turned on.”

            She came, squirting all over my knees. 

            “Come here,” she said, as she rolled over on her tum.  “Get inside me.”

            I slid right in with my tum pressed on her back.

            “Do I feel tight or loose?”

            “You feel loose and wet.  Very wet.”

            “Fuck me harder.”

            I thrust with more force.

            “Daddy, please, fuck me.  Fuck me harder.”

            “I would, but I’m afraid I’ll push you right into the headboard.”

            “Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, “Just fuck me with everything you got.”

            I pushed into her repeatedly.  As I predicted, her head was banging the headboard of the bed with a rhythmic pounding.  She just called out, “Yeah, yeah, harder!  Don’t stop.  Fuck.  I’m going to squirt.  Stay in there.  Don’t. . .”

            She began squirting and her cunt convulsed on my cock, squeezing me right out.  It’s damn near impossible to stay in her when she has an intense orgasm like that. 

            “Hurry up,” she said, “Get back in me!”

            “I can’t,” I complained, “You’re all clenched up.  Try to relax.”

            She did, which unleashed a gush of more juice, soaking the sheets. 

            “I want you to cum,” she said as she backed her ass up and slid her puss over my pole again. 

            “You liked my dream?” I asked.

            “Yes.  Maybe you were holding me so tightly that our dreams were interwoven.”

            “Are you cumming again?” I asked. 

            “No, not yet.”

            “Good, don’t.  Flip over,” I commanded.

            She turned onto her back and spread her legs.  I pulled out my dripping rod and stroked it back and forth.

            “What are you doing?” she asked.

            “Playing foosball.  What’s it look like I’m doing?  I’m stroking myself to your amazing body.”    

            She grabbed her Hitachi again and put it between her legs as she watched me.  “Just like the guys on the beach,” she said. 

            With that thought, I began to cum.  She saw what was happening, and like an acrobat, she swiveled her body around so that her face was now under my balls and she put out her tongue to catch might release.

            When I was done and she had a grin on her face, I said, “A nutritious breakfast.”

            “Yeah, but now I’m in the mood for cake with icing and pancakes.”

            “Pancakes?”

Or, see me and cum.

            “Or at least pancake batter, cause that’s what your cum reminds me of.”