Marsupial Position

After the first Cum Cube companion had left, Lola heard the special knock at the door.  It was still ten minutes before her next appointment.  Lo opened the door cautiously.  It was Meri.

MILF Meri desperate at the bar for some real cock

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry,” Meri replied, “I couldn’t stay away.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” replied Meri, dismissive of Lo’s insults.

“HH calls me that all the time.  I take it as a compliment.  Like, ‘You’re incredible!  You’re amazing!  You have the sexual powers of a goddess.’  You know?”

“Oh, so you think you’re paying me a compliment?”

“It all depends on how you take it.”

“How did you take it?”

“Take what”

“That guy’s cock.  That’s what.”

“Fast and deep, front and back.”

“I figured.  I could hear you cumming from across the street.”

“You could?”

“Of course!”

“And now you want some?”

“Are you going to deny me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”  Actually, after her first session, which was so much more than she could have imagined, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle any more and was glad for the reinforcements.

“When’s your next appointment?”

Lo looked at her watch.  “He should be here any minute now.”

“I gotta get out of these clothes then.”

“Yes, hurry,” said Lo, helping Meri out of her winter attire.

Soon Meri was in nothing but a white bra, her white nylons, and her red pumps.

“There’s one rule you have to keep.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to remain bent over, facing this wall.  The idea is that there is a certain level of anonymity.  They can’t see you and you can’t see them.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“But I though you vetted them on-line?”

“We were still anonymous there.  They are afraid that if I know who they are, I could blackmail them.”

“Blackmail?”

“Yeah, because of their wives and families and such.”

“Oh, right.”

“And I, well, you know, I just like anonymous fucks anyhow.”

“Oh, I know!”

There was a knock at the door using the secret code.

Lo released the latch and the next patron of the arts entered the sacred space.  He was confronted with not one round, beautiful rump ready to be mounted, but two.  One naked, used, and welcoming, and one, larger than the first, squeezed into the tight-fitting nylons.

Mr. Next Up came in and didn’t say anything.  He just ran his hand over both rears that were confronting him.  He gave Lo’s a little smack and then pulled Meri’s tights down around her knees.  He began fondling both of them – Lo with his right hand and Meri with his left.  He then got on his knees behind Lo and began licking her ass, perineum, and pussy as he continued to fondle Meri, inserting a finger into her pussy and then his thumb into her ass.

Both Lo and Meri were now grinding on him – Lo on his tongue and Meri and his digits.

“Fuck me,” said Lo.

“Fuck me!” insisted Meri.

The girls could hear him unbuckle his pants and then heard him let his pants drop to the floor.  He fumbled with a condom and then he was up against Lo’s rear with his hips.  Lo felt his huge heft – not of his cock, but of his stomach – flop down on her lower back.  He was slapping up against her with his hips.

“Hey, slow down,” said Lo.  “Are you even in?” she asked, moving her right hand behind her, under his giant beer belly, to grab his pecker and point it in the right direction.

When she finally got ahold of it, she was like, “Wait, is this it?”

“I, I, I’m having trouble with the condom,” a deep voice replied.

“Fine, forget the condom,” said Lo.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Lo saw a tiny piece of rubber land on the floor by her feet.  It reminded her of a finger cot she once used in a science class.

She reached behind her again and felt a tiny, protruding, almost pimple-like bump.

“Is this you?” she asked.

“Yes,” came the shameful response.

“Try again,” said Lo, pulling the nub toward her.

His hips again slapped up against Lo’s ass.  Lo shrugged her shoulders.  She couldn’t feel anything.  Especially not after her first romp.  But she wasn’t going to let on.  She moaned and groaned, oohed and aaahed like she was being fucked by King Dong.  Lo’s cum-cooing turned on Meri and Meri moved her right hand under Lo to feel the tips of Lo’s tits as they lilted forward and back, swaying heavily under her as Lo was bent at a right angle, perpendicular to the wall that supported her.

“My turn,” insisted Meri.

They guy pulled “out” of Lo, even though Lo didn’t think he had even penetrated her, and followed suit with Meri.  Meri looked at Lo and Lo made a hand gesture with her thumb and index finger indicating that this guy was no more than an inch at most!

Beer Belly and Meri

Meri’s eyes rolled and then she put on the act.  “Oh yeah.  That’s it.  Fuck me!  Fuck me like the whore I am,” and so on.  She was nearly laughing and getting Lo to giggle as she hammed it up.

“Are you a bad girl?” asked the panting voice from behind her.

“Yes, so bad.”

“How bad are you?”

“I’m a dirty slut.”

“Do you have kids?” he asked.

“Yes, three sons,” she said.

“I can tell.  Your pussy is much looser than Lo’s.”

“Oh, but you fill it up so good,” she said – insulted by his comment, but still feeling superior since she knew that even if she was tight as a virgin, he still wouldn’t feel her due to his microscopic appendage, nor would she feel him.

“I bet you say that to your sons,” he said.

“Sometimes,” replied Meri, playing along, but also, truthfully with regard to her youngest.

“Yeah?  Are you a dirty whore at home?”

“I’m a dirty whore everywhere I go.”

“Tell me about it,” he said.

Lo, at this point, was growing tired with being mere window dressing, or window undressing, however the case may be, even though there were no windows and Lo was already undressed.

She rolled onto her back and then slid underneath Meri’s drooping and swaying tits until Lo was straddled by Meri’s knees.  Mr. Small was smacking away at Meri’s backside without penetrating or pleasuring any part of her pubic area.  Now Lo’s little flower spread just below Meri’s larger petals, allowing for the choice of four portals to pleasure instead of just two, but none of which were within reach of the man’s petite probe.

Meri’s nipples fell to Lo’s open mouth and Lo licked, sucked, and bit gently on them.  Meri flaunted her large, full breasts before Lo’s face, taunting her with her much larger and fuller tits, though, unlike Lo’s perky breasts, Meri’s drooped and sagged.  Lo enjoyed Meri’s matronly mammary offering, but then slid up further in order to kiss Meri’s open mouth as Lo wrapped her legs around Meri’s hips and her arms over her shoulders and held on like a marsupial.

Meri looked down at Lo’s face and laughed.

“I can’t feel him,” she whispered and Lo laughed too.

“Oooh, yeah,” said Lo, mockingly.

“Ahh, fuck me,” said Meri in the same jocular tone.

The two of them giggled as the man furiously flapped his hips forward and back like a large walrus trying to slide headlong on the sand.

“Oh, you’re so much better and bigger than my husband,” said Meri over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” asked the guy.  “Tell me about him.”

“He’s so small, I never feel him.  I haven’t had an orgasm with him in ages!  That’s why I whore around town like this,” she said, giggling in Lo’s ear.

Lo lapped it up and held onto her older, sexy, voluptuous MILF mentor with joy and delight, squirting and dribbling over her lower lips.

“Never brought you to an orgasm?”

“I didn’t say never,” Meri replied to his question.  “But so long ago that I can’t remember it.”

“That’s horrible,” he said, “why not?”

“He’s an enormous man with a small cock and as a result of all his bodily girth and lack of girth where it really matters, he can’t even get close enough to me to enter my pussy.  Every time we have sex, I end up jerking him off with just my index finger and thumb.”

Suddenly, the slapping of fat on ass stopped.  Before either Lo or Meri knew what was happening, the man had pulled up his pants and left the Cum Cube.

Lo looked at Meri, puzzled.

“Why’d he go?” she asked.

“That was Scott,” cackled Meri, squealing with delight, “my husband!”

“Nooooooooooooo!” replied Lo, shocked.

“Yes!”

“How do you know?”

“I know how my husband fucks.  I know the wheezing sound he makes when he’s overexerted himself.  I know the feeling of that tub of lard that flops over his beltline and lands on my lower back before he makes his pathetic attempt to fuck my pussy.  I know how small his dick is – it’s unusually small and almost uniquely so – and how he cannot, no matter how he tries, get it in the hole.  He’s like a horny Chihuahua trying to mount a Great Dane!  And I definitely know that brand of condoms – ‘My Size’ – that he has to import from England.”  She pointed at the condom on the floor and laughed at its pathetic diameter.

“How do you think he. . . I mean, how did he?  I was so careful about who I. . .”  Lo didn’t have the words, she was so shocked.

Meri shrugged her shoulders and said, “He has probably been tracking my internet usage.”

“No!”

“Yeah,” she assured, “he’s been suspicious of my every move ever since our failed attempt to throw him off my scent.  Your little seduction of my husband (and my three sons) seems to have backfired.  I figured he was up to something.  But now I know for sure.  He must have gotten some spyware and downloaded it onto my computer and phone.  He probably knows every pornographic website I click on, my every email and chat message, my every phone call.”

Lo looked dismayed.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“What is there to do?” replied Meri, shrugging her shoulders.  “Go home and face the consequences.”

Just then, there was a loud knock at the door of the Cum Cube.  It was not the secret code knock.  Just an insistent three bangs on the door.  Lo and Meri were startled.

“Just a minute!” Lo chimed, trying to find something to put on.

Lo was wearing just her coat.  Meri, too, put hers on as Lo opened the door.  It was the police.

“What’s going on?” asked Lo, surprised.

“Shut down.”

“What?!”

“You have to shut it down.”

“I have permission from the mayor.”

“This is on orders of the mayor.”

“I don’t understand.”
“Apparently, the press got word of this do-gooder operation of yours and a lot of people are upset about it.”

“Upset?”

“Protesting City Hall.”

“But why?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders and said, “All I know is I got to shut this operation down.”

Lola and Meri were escorted out of the Cum Cube by the men in blue, leaving behind all the paraphernalia that Lo had so meticulously arranged inside her little sex oasis: the Match, Cinder & Spark books, the magazines, the posters.

After the shutdown, the cube didn’t just go away, it was repurposed as a municipal “lactation station,” but in reality, people used it as a masturbation station.  In fact, one handsome crew of six guys sent Lo one of her favorite tribute shots – all six gay or bi men in a circle jerk over her glossy image on the cover of a magazine!

Cum Cube cumtribute pic

Queen of the Primal Horde

The first customer?  Or is it patron?  Client?  First cummer.  That’s it.  Anyhow, the first guy on Lo’s Naughty List showed up and gave the special secret knock at the door of the Cum Cube.  Lo let him in.  The door swung open and Lo was bent over in her diaphanous panties when he entered.

“Fuck me,” was all Lo said.  She didn’t want small-talk.  She didn’t want to get to know him.  Something about anonymous cock was really turning her on that morning.  Actually, the idea of anonymous cock had been revving her engines all week in anticipation of this.  She loves, loves, loves watching ‘The Milking Table’ vids to get off, as you probably already know.  The milking table, glory hole, dogging at night – the one thing they all have in common is anonymous cock.

The Milking Table Porn

Her eagerness for a fast, furious, filthy fuck was shared by the now naked man standing behind her bent over body.  He wasted no time and actually ripped off the panties.  They presented little resistance since they were mere gossamer-thin lace.  Lo was taken aback by the violent opening gambit.  She mourned the loss of her panties, but only for a split second.  In a split second more, her legs were split as her paramour entered her without hesitation and, on the first thrust, filled her to the hilt!  She braced herself by putting her arms straight out in front of her up against the wall and met his forward motion with an equal and opposite backward motion.  His firm front slapped up against her round rear and she called out with joy and squealed with delight as he rapidly, repeatedly, and roughly rammed his way to her record-setting climax.  She came, gushing all over his rigid rod.  But, it was only the first of many for her.

Lola in her see through black panties

Within a few moments, as he continued to be a battering ram barraging her bum with rhythmic, repetitive, roiling thrusts, she went into a dissociative fugue state.  This is unlike Lo, since she lives to fuck and fucks to live, she usually is very much in the present moment when penetrated by a long, thick prick.  But in this instance, as she braced herself against the steel wall of the Cum Cube and her lock-in lover ravished her, she free associated the cube with a conjugal cell of a prison.  She had never actually seen or been in one, but after her excursion to the prison to run an errand for me which turned into a peep-show for my incarcerated client, she had been dreaming of being the go-to girl for the boys (and girls) behind bars.

In her fugue state she was transported to a conjugal room on prison grounds.  The man behind her was the biggest, baddest, meanest, inmate of the entire state penitentiary system.  He was covered in tattoos on his bulging muscles.  He worked out every day to the extreme due to sexual frustration and a surplus of testosterone.  In her mind’s fantasy, if he behaved as the wardens wished, he was allowed one conjugal visit a month as a carrot, a bribe if you will, so he wouldn’t beat up or kill other inmates.  They allowed him to have one of Lola’s calendars on the wall with a different photo of her for each month.  This gave him the inspiration to change his behavior and moderate his extreme temper.

Whoah!  Lola felt her actual conjugal guest go right in her rear without so much as giving a warning!  After the initial shock, which sent her head spinning, she eased into it and began to enjoy the anal annihilation.

“Will it Hurt?”

Lo returned to her fantasy of the felon.  In her imaginings, he had a back-story.  He was an extreme survivalist who had lived in the woods.  He had an underground lair and whenever he came across hikers or campers, he abducted the females.  He kept them in his cave like a harem.  He had a large wolf-dog that he let mount the women as they wished.  This went on for years until the FBI finally caught up with him and arrested him.  They put him on trial but none of the women would testify against him.  He was like a cult leader to them.  They adored him and voluntarily lived under his protection – some as young as ten or eleven.  He was to them something between Charles Manson and Tarzan.

Captivating

In her wild imaginings, Lola was one of the abductees, but she rapidly climbed up the ranks to become his favorite concubine, Queen of the Primal Horde.  After he was convicted and sent to prison, he railed against his confinement and pined for Lola.  The guards quickly learned that the promise of her pussy was the only thing that would curb his violence.

All the other inmates were forced by the guards to assemble in the small outdoor cages, topped with razor wire, while Lo was escorted past them in her black leather heels, her nylons, her red pencil skirt, her white, cut-off sweater showing a lot of cleavage, and her large, dark sunglasses.  She also wore an extremely large, floppy sunhat that drooped over her face to give an added sense of mystery about her for the inmates.  They all knew what she was there for and they all lined up to see her when she was done too.  They watched as her now ripped nylons dripped with gobs of warm cum and her hair, which had been beautifully and perfectly quaffed, was now messed as if pulled from behind.  Rather than walking with a stride and sashay, as she had when she arrived, she now walked gingerly, as if she still felt the pain of that enormous cock up her ass.

Lola in her big red floppy hat. Art by Starlight Cassette

Speaking of which, now her real-life rear rammer was alternating between Lo’s primary and secondary pleasure promenades.  (I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide for yourself which is which.)  Lola was squirting every time he came out of her V and went to her A.  By now there was a large puddle in which she stood, her feet spread wide and partially submerged.

In Lo’s vivid visualization, the prison guards hatched a plan to provide them a fun distraction from the monotony.  Seeing how all the inmates cat-called Lo, pressing themselves up against the chain link fence as she passed them by, they arranged to have a boxing match between Lo’s lover and any challenger who thought he could go the distance in the ring with him – no gloves, no protective gear, no rules.  The prize – an hour in the conjugal cage with Lola.

The next month and each month afterwards, instead of just rewarding Lo’s beau with the privilege of Lo’s pussy, they made him defend his title and his conjugal prerogative.  Thus, he would meet Lo in the fornication station black-and-blue, bloodied, sweat pouring down his face, chest, arm pits, as he burned with fever in his triumphant entrance.

This elaborate transposition of Lo’s current circumstances brought Lo to many more orgasms – so many that she felt she couldn’t stand it.  She literally couldn’t stand anymore.  And, pent-up with so many months of loneliness, her anonymous associate came too, engorging the condom he wore for their mutual protection.  Oh, how Lo dearly wished he could have cum inside her – front or back – and made her a Christmas cream-pie.  But on orders of the mayor and Board of Health, that was not to be.

Stiff Competition

Lola didn’t know if she was in trouble, but she was on her way to meet the director of the sperm bank.  She walked down the long hallway, lined with the framed color posters of David Hamilton’s work, and at the end of the hallway she knocked.  “Come in,” she heard a man’s voice say from behind the door.

Art by David Hamilton

Art of making art by David Hamilton

Art by David Hamilton

We shall save for later what transpired behind the director’s closed door after Lola entered it, but for now, let us pick our story up when Lola arrived at the clinic for a third appointment with Terence.

They met in the parking lot, as usual, and Lola was wearing her long white coat, but this time she had a surprise for Terence under it.  Or rather, she had nothing to surprise Terence with under her coat.

Inside the clinic the receptionist again directed them to room #3.  Upon entering, it was Lola who was surprised, for on the walls, in place of the framed posters of Lola’s cream pies, were framed posters of Ellie, the night-shift receptionist who had helped Terence by coaxing his cum out of him (before Lola fulfilled that job) and by reading to him from Match, Cinder & Spark.  Apparently, she found out about the Lola poster substitute and that Terence was “two-timing” her with Lo during the day.  She took liberties and removed Lo’s framed photos, replacing them with her own.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie cumcovered

One poster was a black-and-white of Ellie, nude, spread eagle with cum covering her hairy pussy.  The other was of her on her knees taking one cock in her mouth and two cocks on either side of her as she stroked them off.  You couldn’t see her face in either of those posters, but, just to make sure there was no mistake, there was a framed photo of Ellie in a salmon colored outfit of shorts and an oversized blouse wearing glasses and smiling or almost laughing.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie knows how to please three guys at once

Lola thought, “It’s on.”

“Whoa!” said Terence upon seeing the framed photos.

Ellen Mowbray

“You know her?”

“Um, yeah.  She’s the one who used to help me out.  She works the evening shift.”

Lola began to walk out of the room.

“Hey!  Where are you going?” asked Terence, confused.

“To request another room.”

“Why?”

“I find it rude.”

“Rude?”

“Desperate.”

“Desperate?”

“Thirsty.”

“Thirsty?”

“Is there an echo in here?  Look, she’s clearly still salty about what happened with Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Her ex-boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, you can read all about it on the blog.  She’s just being petty.”

“Maybe she wanted you to see it.  Maybe it’s for your pleasure?”

“You like?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I do.”

“Fine,” said Lo.  “Pull out your pud.”  She was very matter-of-fact.  No seduction, no sensuality, no affection.

Terence, who had been looking forward to this for days, was eager to comply.

Lo then opened her overcoat to reveal she was wearing absolutely nothing under it!

“Ellie ever help you like this?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

Lo put on the latex gloves, lubricated, reached down between his legs and began stroking him.  She leaned forward so that her breasts were dangling tantalizingly in front of his face.  She exaggerated her hand motion so that her heavy breasts wobbled and banged up against one-another.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her heaving mounds.  Lo slowly slid her hand down below the shaft of his cock to his large balls.  She massaged them and fondled them, gently playing with them with her fingertips.  He clearly liked it.  Lo didn’t speak this time.  She just watched his facial expressions.  Her focus went from his face to his crotch and back again.  And again.

She then surreptitiously slid her index finger down below his balls to his perineum.  She used a feather-light touch on it for a while and then cautiously, furtively slid her index finger further south to his anus.

“Are you a top or a bottom when you’re with men?” she asked.

“Switch,” he said in a tense whisper.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

He got up out of the chair.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He complied.

“Bend over,” she said, “and let’s have a full rectal exam.”

He bent over.  She inserted one, then two, then three fingers of her right hand as her left hand reached around and stroked his cock.  He was looking up at the large poster of Ellie on the wall.  Lola was too.  Lo continued her erotic massage, but it wasn’t long before he said, “The cup!  The cup!”

Lo passed him the specimen cup and stroked him as he held the jar in front of his cock and filled it with more of his donation than he ever had before.  His knees buckled and his entire body went tense and spasmed.  He could hardly stand.  He let out multiple calls of Lola’s name.  Then he collapsed back in the chair, his cock still twitching.

He passed the collection cup to Lo who screwed on the lid tightly.

Lo smiled at him as she stood before his depleted body.  The contrast between her tall, strong, lusty, flush and full body standing naked over his weak and limp body couldn’t have been more pronounced.  She removed her gloves and threw them in the special trash bin for contaminated waste.

After he regained some of his vigor, she said, “Now you stand up and let me have the chair.”

He complied.

Lo sat in the chair, put her feet up on it, spreading her legs, and she began making small circular motions over her clit with her right hand.  He watched her intently.  Her movements increased in speed and intensity until she was now rubbing up-and-down in small, rapid strokes.  This technique got more intense still until she was patting and then slapping her wet pussy.  She progressed to inserting one and then two fingers deep in her pussy.  She fingered herself for about a minute until SPLOOSH!  She squirted straight ahead, sprinkling Terence with her holy water.  It was a long, strong, and voluminous stream that soaked him and his clothes.  He didn’t seem to mind.

Ellen Mowbray

Ellie leaving work after a hard day

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie getting off after a hard day at the masturbatorium

Elln Mowbray

Ellie third from right

“This is my body, given for you.”

“What are those for?”
“These are for later.”

 

Lo is naked in bed.  “Come, Daddy.  Fuck me.”

“No, I’m writing.”

“Oh, please!!!!”

“Later.  Not now.”

“Then be a doll and fetch me a cucumber.”

I get her the vegetable from the kitchen and bring it to her in the bedroom.

“Now give me a condom.”

“Why?”

“You know what sort of stuff they put on this thing?  Insecticides, wax, who knows what!  Put a condom over any phallic-shaped object and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks for the free advice,” I say as I pull a condom out from my nightstand drawer.

“You’re welcome.”

I begin to leave the room.

“You sure you don’t want to get in on this?” she asks as she spreads her legs and puts the cucumber in her hole.”

“I’ll pass on the salad.  I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“Well, you’re missing out.  The dressing is homemade.”

I leave the room and return to my computer where I try to continue writing.  My thoughts are disturbed by the moans, groans, and then screams and sighs that I hear my little nymphet producing like a primitive mating call, signaling to all within earshot that she is eager for cock, or pussy, or something.  I believe I read about that as an actual scientific theory in the book Sex at Dawn.  Women are louder than men when it comes to sex because their sounds are an enticement for other men to fuck them, thus increasing the likelihood of fertilization.

Just a fun photo I found featuring Sex at Dawn

That morning I was able to prove the theory true through the scientific method of replication of results.  No sooner had Lola howled to the heavens about how filling and nutritionally valuable her ‘vagetable’ was, than there was a knocking at the door.

Annoyed, I get up from my computer, where I hadn’t been able to write more than a sentence, and I answer the door – Lola’s sex-singing still quite audible in the background.  Standing at the door is a FedEx delivery guy.  He seems to be in his fifties.  Old, tired, rundown.  However, he hears the post-self-coital cooing coming from the bedroom.

“I have a package for delivery.  It needs your signature.”

I look at the package.  I see Lo’s name on it.  “Oh, it’s not for me.  It’s for Lola,” I say, looking up at him.

“Whatever,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.  “I just need a signature.”

I’m feeling particularly wily that morning and so I insist that it be signed by Lola.

“Lo!” I call, “Oh Lo,” I repeat in a sing-song fashion.

“I’m busy!” I hear bellowing down the hall and I also just perceive the sound of her Hitachi Magic Wand buzzing in the background like a distant hedge trimmer.

“There’s a man here to see you,” I say in a loud voice.  I look at the delivery man and give him a knowing wink.

Lo comes stomping down the hallway, barefoot, naked, her inner thighs glistening with the glaze of her last orgasm, her breasts flailing from left to right with each deliberate footfall.

“What?  Who?”

She stands behind me and sees the delivery man.

“Signature, ma’am,” he says, unflustered.

Lo wedges herself in front of me and stands, stark naked in the doorway, grabbing the electronic signature board, scribbling her name and taking the package.

“It’s a big package” she says, not about what is in her hands, but about the delivery man.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says.

“You need something?” she asks.  “A drink?  You look parched.”

“No ma’am,” he says, so politely, “I must be going.”

“OK, too bad,” she says, licking her lips.

He turns and walks to his truck.

“What is that?” I ask Lo of the package.

“The latest from ErosettiPress.”

“Oh really?!” I say, excited.

“Yep,” she says, tearing open the package.

She pulls out the very handsome hardcover book: The Anthology of Erotic Narrative, Volume I: Fetish.  “Look!  Our story!”  She shows me the chapter, “Crisscross,” which includes a sexy illustration of Lola, on her back, as sushi is displayed upon her for a nyotaimori feast.

“Dante Remy, the editor, had to condense it from the original,” she adds by way of explanation.

“I frequently have that problem – too much length.”

“Not with me you don’t,” she says.  “Oh!  And look!  They even included a little blurb about us!”

She reads from the bio page:

 

H.H. & Lola, based in the US, push the boundaries of conventional relationships, captivating their readers and followers with their unapologetic exploration of desire and the endless possibilities of a love that knows no limits.  Their large erotic cult following includes tribute artwork and photos from readers, often displaying their books in explicit context.  These fan images and art are published along with the stories in their books, and on their active blog and social media presence.  They are at the center of a community of erotic art and expression.  You can engage with them on their blog site mysexlifewithlola.com and their X and Instagram social media.

 

“What do you think?” she asks me.

“You didn’t write that?” I ask her.

“No, silly!”

“Well, I like it.”  I take the book from her hands to read it over once again.  “I especially like the ‘unapologetic’ bit.”

“Yes, that describes you,” she said, not without a hint of irony.

“And the ‘large erotic cult following.’  That’s nice.”

“Yep – and true.”

“He says we are ‘the center of a community of erotic art and expression.’”

“Well, aren’t we?”

“I guess.  I just never thought of us like that.”

“I’ve thought of me like that,” she remarks.

“Of course you have.  Too bad we have since been banned from X and Instagram.  If the Marquis de Sade lived today, he wouldn’t be locked up in the Bastille, he’d be banished from social media!”

“You keep on having grandiose thoughts of you and Sade and the evil electronic geniuses aligned against you, I think I’ll go back to my regularly scheduled programming,” she says, taking the book and walking down the hall.

“Hey,” I call to her.

She stops and turns around.  “Yes?”
“What’s put you in this Saturday morning self-abuse mood?”

“Do I need a reason?”
“No, but you usually have one.”

“If you must know, I’ve been getting a lot of fan mail ever since we posted the interview with Hani Miletski.”

Totally Taboo?”
“Yeah, that one.”

“What sort of fan mail?”

“Why don’t you cum and read it with me?  I mean, wait, reverse that.”

“Very funny.”

I follow her down the hall to the bedroom where she has the cucumber, her Hitachi, and her laptop all spread out over the bed.

She turns the computer screen toward me and shows me an image from a female fan.  It is of a young, mid-thirties woman, in bed, a towel wrapped around her hair as if she had just got out of the shower, with her two children, a girl and a boy, suckling at her breasts.  Above and behind her, on the wall, are mounted two framed paintings from the blog.  One of MILF Meri and her son, the other of Lola as a little girl with her panties over her head, standing naked and defiant.  Both artworks were made by our dear Ukrainian friend Sergii.

Pam at home breastfeeding with art by Sergii above her

“And who is this?” I ask.

“Her name is Pam and she’s a housewife raising twins – a boy and a girl.  She doesn’t believe in setting an age for ending breastfeeding.  She told me she’s inspired by Sophie Rose.”

“Who?”

“Oh, never mind.  It’s a movement to breastfeed kids later into life.”

“That’s a movement?”

“Yeah, but she’s on the fringes of that movement?”

“What’s that mean?”

“She is advocating for breastfeeding-self-care.”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

“She enjoys a wank-spank under the covers while the twins are latched onto her tits.”

“And that’s a movement?!”

“Well, not yet, but she is hoping to make it one.”

“You find all kinds,” I said in astonishment.

“It’s not all that uncommon,” remarked Lo, rather clinical about it.  “Pam discovered, like a lot of women who breastfeed, that it is or can be stimulating.  Sexually stimulating.  She got all tingly between her legs.  One day, at the airport no less, she was breastfeeding and, to her complete and utter surprise. . .”

“You mean udder surprise,” I suggest.

“Just full of wit this morning, aren’t ya, ole man?  She suddenly squirted, right out of the blue, right there in public!  She realized later that it was probably a combination of being sexually frustrated – she was going to see her husband who was stationed across the country for work – and the excitement of having her breasts exposed in public where she was getting a lot of stares.”

“Don’t they have special rooms for that?”

“I don’t know,” says Lo, returning the cucumber to its holster inside her as she places the Hitachi on her clit and looks at the photo again.  “But now she does it all the time.  She says it creates the most intense orgasms and bonding experience she’s ever felt.  Now she’s trying to spread the word.  That’s why she wrote to me.  When she saw the interview with Melitski, she thought that our blog would be a good way to publicize the masturlactation method, as she calls it.”

“A portmanteau of ‘masturbation’ and ‘lactation’ I assume?”

She is too fully engaged in her own masturbation to answer me.

Without looking at me, she simply says, “Suck my tits, Daddy.”

I comply, leaning over to latch onto her left breast while my right hand fondles and pulls on her right nipple.  She instantly climaxes – her clenching pussy shooting the cucumber straight out of her pussy like a torpedo!  That is followed by a tsunami of squirt.

“Holy FUCK!” she says, as she apparently surprised even herself.

“Feel better, Love?” I ask.

She laughs to herself.

“What?” I ask.

“As I was cumming, I had the weirdest thought.”

“What was that?” I ask, realizing that we have been in the realm of weird for quite some time.

“I wondered if all those millions of images of the Madonna and Child – you know, of the Virgin Mary and Jesus as an infant at her breast – I wondered if in all of them, if the Holy Mother is in the state of orgasmic bliss.  Isn’t that weird?  I mean, wouldn’t that be something?”

Mary and Baby Jesus

“Only you could have a theophany to put you over the edge.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to write.”

“What are you going to write?” she asks, skimming through images of the Madonna and Child.

“All about you.”

Caravaggio – Madonna and Child with St. Anne

Fan Photo

Hallucinatory Hijinks

When Lola had returned from her Halloween party, dressed as slutty Princess Leia, she seemed coherent, cognizant, and eager to fill her cunt with my cock and cum.  Little did I know that she had eaten enough cannabis confections to outstrip an LSD trip of Grateful Dead proportions.

It was only the next day, when she groggily recounted to me the amazing journey she had taken in her mind and body, that I realized what her subjective sexperience was.

What I thought was happening the night Lola got home from the Halloween party. Art by RigsUsuallyHiddenDrawings

 

“I got home,” she said when she was more sober, “and I felt like I was a honey pot.  Or rather, that my pussy was a honey pot.  I was gushing and oozing, sloshing and dripping.”

“I can confirm that much was true.  I didn’t know at the time it was from so many men at the party finding release between your legs.”

She didn’t take offense at this, but corrected me, “And women.”

“Yes, and women.”

“And then,” she abruptly stopped.

“And then what?”

“It’s so weird!”

“What is?”

“Well, then it was as if I was copulating with. . .”

“With what?”

“With all sorts of insects – bees, hornets, spiders, worms, cockroaches, beetles, slugs – I mean, if it crawls, flies, or slithers, it was fucking me.”

“Formicophilia,” I said.

“Formi-wha?”
“Formicophilia.  It’s an unusual paraphilia.  The kink of having insects crawl on you.”

“But they weren’t crawling.  They were fucking me!  I was human.  It was interspecies sex!”

“It’s a variation on a theme.”

I caught her looking at me funny.  Staring at me.

“What?” I finally asked.

“Oh, Daddy, you know what,” she said.

“No, I don’t know what.”

“Those words.  You know how your vocabulary turns me on.  The fact that you had those words – formicophilia and paraphilia – on your tongue.  It make me want to be on your tongue.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Now.”

“Will you continue telling me your story?”

“Yes.”

Formicophilia Nymphs

She didn’t even get up to go to the bedroom.  Right here on the living room couch – the couch that looks out the front windows of our first floor apartment onto the street – she pulled down her panties, pulled off her shirt, and spread her legs.  She indicated that she wanted me to get on my knees in front of her and go to town with my chrysostom, my golden tongue.

I did exactly that as she continued to recall to me the stimulating horror of her drug-induced hallucinatory hijinks.

“Normally, you know, I’m creeped out by anything – a spider, a snake, even ants!  But in my visions, I wasn’t freaked out at all!  I was focused on the fact that all these creatures wanted me!  They were bursting with need.  They were on the verge of insanity with their hunger for me.  They had to copulate and I was the one and only focus if their intense sexual attraction.”

SLURP – SLOP – SPLUSH

That was the sound of me taking her in my mouth – sucking on her labia, licking up and in her slit, gently tickling her clit.

She continued as her hands held my head between her legs.

“Then the creatures morphed into unidentifiable organisms.  Aliens maybe? Squids? And then everything, everything I touched became a penis.  It was like. . .”

After that, I couldn’t hear what she was saying.  She squeezed her thighs together tightly and her legs covered my ears.  Good thing too, because she began screaming as her juices dribbled down my chin and her legs started to twitch.  She pressed my head down hard with her hands and then, just as surprisingly, pulled me off of her so that she could stroke her pussy with her hand as she squirted in my face.

That was the last I heard of her story.  I retrieved some paper towels to dry off and to clean up the puddle left on the hard-wood floor.

She simply laid back on the couch, relaxed, and dozed off.

 

 

 

Chimeras

Tara led the lion right up to Lo in the center of the circus.  Lo was lying in the muddy dirt of the center ring.  The entire floor of the circus was dirt, but now, where Lo was, it had turned to mud from the copious amount of cum ejaculated by the elephant that had just copulated with Lo.  The viscus, warm, white jizz had spilled out of Lo’s cunt and created a sloppy mess right where Lo was recovering from her dazzling display of big dick penetration.  The elephant put its trunk in a bucket of water nearby and sprayed Lo down, showering her affectionately.  Lo struggled to get to her feet as a new drama unfolded.

With the elephant, the audience was on the edge of their seats wondering if Lo could take the massive pink missile.  And they were ecstatic to see Lo mounted successfully.  But now there was an ominous sense of foreboding under the big tent as everyone held their collective breath wondering if the lion would also mount Lo or if it would eat her – and not in the good way!

Tara stood, holding her whip, ready to smack the lion back into submission, but there was no need.  Apparently this lion had been trained since early age to take women as trophy lionesses.  It approached Lo and quickly, without any feline foreplay, mounted and fucked Lo from behind.  The audience was silent this time, afraid that any loud, enthusiastic encouragement might scare the lion into destroying his mate.  When it had reached climax, Lo realized why a lion’s pack is called a “pride,” since anyone who can handle that cock has to be full of pride, as was Lo.  She was also full of a lot more than that and it was dripping all around her in the ring as Tara led the satisfied animal away and Lo was left standing in the spotlight, soaking in the love of the audience.

Lo and the Lion

As Lo stood, she realized that she had worked up an incredible appetite.  All she could think of was food.

“Cartoon characters get hungry, I guess,” she thought to herself.

She looked at Tara, who was now walking towards her and she said, “Can we eat something?  I’m starved!”

Tara laughed and with the sound of her laugh, which struck Lo’s ears like the gentle, magical and musical cadence of a windchime in a gentle breeze, Lo slowly emerged back into flesh-and-blood.

“Why don’t you put your phone down?” said Tara, as if talking to a child.

Lo looked in her hands and saw her phone open to the “Danger Girl Dating” app.

She was naked on the bed.

Tara helped her up and asked, “Do you want your clothes?”

Lo heard the question.  She understood it, but it was difficult for her to form words.  She simply shook her head, ‘No.’

Art of Lo by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

Tara slowly led Lo down the stairs.  Lo was walking on two feet this time, not like on the way up.  All the guests looked up at the secret agent girl leading the naked and high girl to the living room.

Art of Lo as Leia by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

“Sit here,” said Tara to her docile, amused little love doll, assisting her into the large, comfy chair.  “I’ll be right back.  I’m just going to grab you some snacks.”  Off went Tara on her mission to grab some of the diced cheese cubes, crackers, and a little sparkling water for Lo.

Art of Lo as Leia by Rigs Usually Hidden Drawings

Sitting in the chair, zoning out, Lo saw Mr. Biggs across the room talking to a woman who was as large as, if not larger than, he!  She was dressed as Mrs. Roper from ‘Three’s Company,’ wearing nothing but a muumuu.  He saw Lo out of the corner of his eye.  (Apparently, he didn’t see her as a nude descending a staircase.)  He brought his new friend over to Lo and introduced them.  Lo couldn’t stand up.  It was all she could do to lift her arm and limply shake the woman’s hand.

“Nice to meet you.”  Forming words was difficult.

The woman smiled, while looking deeply into Lo’s eyes.  Lo was looking at the woman’s eyes, thinking about the Beatle’s song, “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.”  All she heard in her head was “the girl with kaleidoscope eyes.”  The sound looped around in her brain again and again.

Tara returned with cheese and crackers and literally had to feed Lo because Lo was unable to feed herself without making crumbs that fell into her naked lap.

Mr. Biggs apparently enjoyed the “show.”  He was staring intently at the feeding of Lo by Tara.

Mrs. Roper noticed this and before Lo knew what was happening, she found herself atop the large woman who was kneeling on the floor, naked, and lapping up Lo’s labia with her mouth.

Lo gets eaten out at a party

Whatever was happening to her, or being done to her, by the large woman upon whom she sat like on a hopper ball or bouncy ball, in Lo’s mind the woman morphed into a giant Cephalopoda of some undefined sort.  She was slippery and filling every hole all at once.  Lo slipped back into the “Danger Girl Dating” app and back into her “Catnip” alter-ego.

Krakin

The next thing she recalled was voices, seemingly from all directions, asking, “Is it ok if I touch you?” “May I feel you?” “Do you consent to being fucked by me?”

Unclear

Tara appeared in her trench coat and beret and said, “She cannot consent.  She’s tripping her face off on the desserts.”

The next thing she knew, Lo was in the bathtub, filled to the brim, with Tara, transformed into a cartoon as well, lying on top of her and an octopus or squid or something with tentacles lying on top of Tara, filling both her holes and both Lo’s holes at once.  It felt delightful as Lo reached around to squeeze Tara’s breasts.

Lo and Tara in the bath.

“What is happening?” asked Lo in her host’s ear.

Food for Thought

The next morning the sun was streaming in the front windows across the living room where I was sleeping on the couch.  I was slightly roused from my slumbers by the aroma of coffee brewing, but I thought it was just a dream until Lola sauntered into the room holding two mugs of coffee and wearing only a t-shirt.  Her nipples were protruding from under the shirt and her pussy was on display.  She sat down next to me and placed my mug on the coffee table in front of me.

“Sorry Daddy,” was all she said.

I looked at her and said, “Lo, what happened last night?”

She proceeded to tell me that she met up with Mr. Biggs at their designated rendezvous spot, since his wife was at home with the baby.  She hopped in his car and he wasn’t in any costume.

She was surprised, but he assured her that his costume was in the trunk.  He drove them to the party and pulled out his costume that fit right over his clothes.  Lola suspected that it was custom made since he was already one of the largest men she had ever seen.  How could it be so large as to fit even over his clothes?  It was a Jabba the Hutt outfit, as he had promised, but it literally covered him from head to toe.  The mouth of the costume was an opening through which he could see.  Meanwhile, Lo was scantily clad in her Princess Leia slave girl outfit, exposing her tummy and also, if one gained a glimpse at her bikini bottom, her bushy pubic hair.

“Where’d you get that?” asked Lo.

“My wife made it for me,” he said from within the mask.

“Talented.  Did she make one for herself?”

“No.”

“Does she know you’re wearing it out with me.”

“Of course not.”

Lo shrugged her shoulders.

The theme of the Halloween party was popular TV shows and movies from the ʼ70s.  At the party, Lola spied a Barney Rubble and Betty, a gay “CHiPs” duo, a “Bewitched” couple, and a “Three’s Company” throuple, among others.  As Lo scanned the guests, one stood out for her – a woman wearing only a trench coat and a red beret.  Lo approached her, curious to find out which 1970s celeb she was supposed to be, but also trying to be tactful about it.

“I know,” said the woman even before Lo could ask, “who am I?”

“Well,” said Lo, “now that you mention it.”

“I’ll give you five guesses and four hints, if you need them.”

“OK.”

“Hint number one: The original aired in the sixties, but ended in the seventies.”

Lo thought, but that didn’t help her at all.  She guessed, “‘Brady Bunch’?”

“No, silly,” said the woman, affably.  “Hint number two: The show had a remake in 2008 as a movie.”

Lo pondered, “‘Charlie’s Angels’?”

“Warmer,” said the woman.

“Hint number three: “I am smarter than the star.”

Lo knew that this was somehow a big hint, but she still had difficulty.  “‘Pink Panther’?”

“Really, really close!  OK, hint number four: I’m a secret agent.”

“Inspector Gadget?”

The woman laughed and said, “I can see how you’d think that, but that’s from the eighties.  OK, I’ll give you one more hint.  Last chance!  I go by the name ninety-nine.”

“Oh, I know!” said Lo, “Ninety-nine from ‘Get Smart’!”

“You got it!”

“What do I win?”

The woman then opened her trench coat and let Lo see her totally naked body underneath.  Lo’s jaw dropped.  Her mouth salivated.  She felt wet between her legs.

Agent 99

“Your secret weapon,” quipped Lo.

“Not so secret,” said her new friend.  “Hi, I’m Tara.”

“Tara, like the goddess?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Hi, I’m Lo.”

Tara looked Lo over approvingly, but Lo said, “Don’t be grossed out, I didn’t have time to shave.”

“What are you talking about grossed out?!  You’re gorgeous!”

“Well, I’m a little self-conscious,” said Lo, well aware of her protruding bush down below.

“Don’t be,” said Tara, “You can see, I left a little fluff down there too.”  Tara then flashed Lo once more.  Lo looked carefully this time, since it wasn’t a total shock to her.  She did see just a tuft of brown between Tara’s legs.

“Is Maxwell here?”

“Maxwell Smart – Agent 86?” asked Tara.  “No.  It’s just me.  A solo mission tonight.  I think I saw your date – Jabba the Hutt – earlier.”

“Can’t miss him,” said Lo.

“How long you two been together?” asked Tara.

“Second date,” said Lo.

“What?!”

“True.”  Then Lo told Tara the back story, about me, her, and how Lo likes to explore kinks, fetishes, taboos, and possibilities.  “What about you?” asked Lo.

“Well, funny you should mention your interest in kinks.”

“Why’s that?”

“This is my party – my kinky Halloween party.”

“This is your house?  I had no idea!”

“Yep.  Welcome!”

“You certainly are very hospitable.”

Just then Mr. Biggs approached Lola and Lo introduced him to her new friend Tara.

“I’ve been looking for you,” said Mr. Biggs.  “Let’s make sure I don’t lose you again.”  He proceeded to hook a leash to Lo’s collar and Lo then dropped to the floor in the Gorean Kajira slave position.  “That’s better,” said Mr. Biggs.”

Original art by Sergeii-g.

Lo looked up at Tara submissively.

Tara said to Mr. Biggs, “May I?” indicating that she wished to take the lead of the leash.

Mr. Biggs couldn’t say no.

Tara then led Lo, who crawled on all fours, to the upstairs bathroom.  People got a kick seeing Lo from behind as she crawled up the stairs.

In the bathroom, Tara said, “Shall we tidy you up?”  She indicated her shaving equipment.  Lo didn’t object.

Lo got out of her costume and stood before Tara, nude, while Tara prepared everything.  Tara then removed her only clothing – the trench coat and beret, and had Lo sit on the edge of the tub as Tara hopped in the tub, spread Lo’s legs, turned on the warm water, and began shaving Lo’s unruly bush.

A couple of times one of the guests happened to walk into the bathroom, which had the door wide open, only to find it occupied by the two naked water nymphs.

“It’s ok,” said Tara, “if you need to use the bathroom.  We don’t mind.”

No one took them up on it.

Tara grabbed Lo’s belly and pulled it up so that she could get a better angle on the triangular territory below to be trimmed.

“You’re beautiful,” said Tara.

“I’m trying to lose a few pounds I gained during the pandemic,” said Lo.

“Why?  This is hot,” said Tara, squeezing Lo’s roll.

Lo blushed.

Within a half hour, Tara had shaved Lo perfectly clean with her expert and steady hand.  Lo said, “Shall I return the favor?”

Tara, eager to prolong the intimate time with Lo, said, “I’d like that.”

They switched places and, with a few strokes of the wrist, Lo removed what little pubic hair remained at the nether point of Tara’s mons pubis.

The two of them rinsed, dried off, and then there was a knock at the door, even though the bathroom door was wide open.  It was Mr. Biggs.  How he managed to get up the stairs is a mystery.  It certainly involved struggle.  He was perspiring under his Jabba costume.

“Yes?” asked Tara.

“Just seeing that Lola’s ok.”

“I’m in good hands,” said Lo, looking at Tara who was cupping Lo’s breasts with her hands at that moment.

“You two look pretty there,” he said, stating the obvious.

“Oh yeah?” asked Tara, “Does the Hutt have a hard-on?”

“Help me out of this costume and you’ll find out.”

Lo and Tara walked with him to Tara’s bedroom where they helped him remove the elaborate getup.

He then removed his clothes.

“Lola tells me you have a feeder/feedie kink,” said Tara.

“Yes,” replied Mr. Biggs.

“Well, then, I’ll be right back.”

Quick as a flash, Tara sprinted out of the bedroom, down the stairs to the main party area in the living room and kitchen, her naked bum bouncing as she slid between all the costumed guests.  “A new outfit Tara?” said one of them.  “Let me guess, the Emperor’s New Clothes.”  She got a plate of chocolate covered strawberries, chocolate covered bananas, brownies, and dark chocolate in the shape of little pumpkins, and sped upstairs again.  A few people did double-takes as they saw the nude nymph dash past them and dart up the stairs.  “What’s going on up there?” asked one guest of another.

Tara smooth

Tara reentered the bedroom, catching Lola and Mr. Biggs in an intimate moment as he was leaning over in order to kiss Lo, who only came up to his chest.  Lo’s right hand was reaching for his small cock, hidden under the round, protruding roll that began over his waistline and flopped down, covering like a curtain his diminutive pecker.

“Hey you two,” said Tara, standing in the doorway, leaning up against the lintel of the door, her right leg resting on the frame, bent at the knee, and holding a plate of chocolate desserts dramatically, “hungry?”

“Mmmm,” moaned Lo, “What you got there?”

“Some sweets I made for the party.”

“You made these?!  They’re adorable!”

A Valentine’s Day treat package

Tara got on the bed – her bed – that was made very neat and tidy for the party.  She sat by the headboard with her legs spread.

Lo crawled on the bed like a leopard, slowly making her way to Tara’s tray of goodies.  Mr. Biggs stood behind Lo at the foot of the bed watching the show.  Tara held up a chocolate covered strawberry that had a white chocolate swirl around it.  Lo craned her neck to get a bite of the not-forbidden fruit.  Lo was able to grab it with her teeth and ate it.

Mr. Biggs was grabbing at his pud watching Lo eat the sweets.

Tara repeated the treat theater with a piece of the dark chocolate pumpkin.  Mr. Biggs liked what he saw.  He came around the side of the bed to get a better look.  He passed Lo a sealed condom that he apparently had been holding in his hand.

“Will you put it on?” he asked politely.

“I’ll try,” said Lo, looking up at his daunting frame.

“I’ll help,” said Tara.

Tara got under the large, drooping belly and lifted to allow Lo room to see and manipulate the condom.

“Reminds me of middle school,” said Lo, looking up at Mr. Biggs.

“Middle school?” asked Tara.

“I’ll tell you another time,” said Lo, enigmatically.

Lo was desperately trying to get the condom on the hard, but small penis.  Every time she thought she was successful, it fell off.

“Here,” said Tara, moving to one side, “you’re going to have to lie down on the bed.”

Mr. Biggs, embarrassed, but not surprised by the difficulty, got on the bed and rolled on his back.  His large stomach rested like a hump, allowing Lo more access.  The act of getting back on the bed had diminished his hard-on, so Lo put her mouth to his cock to revive it.  Tara held it for her.  Mr. Biggs’ pud grew in her hand and in Lo’s mouth and soon he was erect enough for Lo to slide on the condom.

Mr. Biggs stood up again and this time he stood by the middle of the bed.  Lo got back on all fours and Tara was on the other side of the bed, opposite Mr. Biggs.  She stood and fed Lo her snacks as if feeding a dog.

Mr. Biggs lifted his big belly and plopped it down on Lo’s ass, resting it there, as he grabber her by her hips and pulled her in so he could enter her from behind.  Once he was properly penetrating her, he let go of her hips and grabbed the leash to pull her back.

“Heel,” he said to Lo, as if talking to a dog.  “Heel.”  She pushed backwards with her ass, further enveloping his cock in her wet pussy.  She liked being treated like a bitch.

Tara said, “Want another treat?” to Lo, as if talking to a dog.  Lo licked her lips.  Tara fed Lo another strawberry.  Then Tara took the banana and held it between her legs as if it was her own cock and Lo took it in her mouth, demonstrating for Tara her talent for deep-throating.  Lo looked up at Tara as the banana went nearly all the way in her mouth.  She then pulled back and began eating the chocolate covered banana bite-by-bite.

This turned on Mr. Biggs so much that he was perspiring and breathing hard as he bounced his thick thighs off of Lo’s ass.

Unbeknownst to either Mr. Biggs or Lola, since their backs were to the door, some of the partygoers from downstairs had followed Tara’s naked butt up the stairs and were congregated by the door, watching the show.

Each deliciously decorated fruit fed to Lo brought Mr. Biggs closer to climax.  Lola, for her part, couldn’t even feel him in her, but she could feel his weight resting on her lower back and his hips hitting hers forcefully.

When all the food was gone, Lo pulled forward and rolled over onto her back, spreading her legs and raising them in the air so Mr. Biggs could enter her missionary style as Tara lowered her hips down on Lo’s face.  Lo licked Tara’s delicious labia and Mr. Biggs got a full view of Lo’s torso and all of Tara’s naked body as he slammed into Lo’s pussy with his pud.  Tara was too skinny for Mr. Biggs’ taste, but that didn’t stop him from admiring her body as her breasts bobbed up and down and as she pulled her nipples.

Lo could feel him only slightly more in the missionary position, but she sensed he was getting close to orgasm.  His thrusting increased in tempo and soon he was calling out as he grabbed Lo’s rolls and held on for dear life!

He suddenly tipped forward like a felled giant Sequoia.  He crashed down on Lo’s body as Tara cautiously backed up.  Poor Lo couldn’t even be seen under him anymore.  His full dead weight was upon her.  She struggled to whisper, “I can’t breathe.”  And she suffered a momentary panic attack as she thought that maybe he died and collapsed on her!

Luckily, he rolled off of her onto his back, breathing heavily, as was Lo after being released from the crushing weight.  At the sight of him, the people at the door scattered since the show seemed over.

Lo was feeling dizzy, lightheaded, and strange.  Had she nearly passed out when he was on her?  Everything seemed odd to her – sounds, her body, the ceiling as she looked up at it.

Tara caressed her forehead and the feel of her hand on Lo’s skin was nearly enough to bring Lo to a climax.

Lo pulled Tara down to her so that Lo could suck her tits.  Then she guided Tara’s body over her so that they were in a full-on sixty-nine on the bed.  Lo had never experienced anything like this.  Every inch of her body felt tingly and alive.  Her tongue probed and tasted Tara’s twat with the discerning sensitivity of a wine connoisseur finding the hints of oak and tints of sunset.  Lo didn’t know what was happening to her, but she liked it.

She felt Tara’s tongue protruding in her own hole as if the tentacle of a horny Cephalopod.  Suddenly Lo imagined she was under water, making love to and being made love to multiple sea anemones.  It was blissful!

Lola lost herself in an orgy of tentacles and wave after wave of intense orgasms as Tara’s pussy around her face felt like she was diving into the cunt of a kraken as it swallowed her with its enormous mouth.  Lo was suddenly swimming inside Tara as if ingested by her fluctuating, full vulva.

Lola dove in!

Emerging from the many leagues under the ‘C’ of Tara’s cunt, from between her wet legs, Lo came up for air.

“What is going on?” she asked out loud.

“What?” inquired Tara.

“The room is spinning – and breathing.”

“Lola, you know that I’m a cannabis confectioner, right?  All those chocolate strawberries and bananas you ate were infused with THC.”

“I had no idea, but I suddenly feel like Alice in Wonderland!”

“Oh boy,” said Tara, “you’re going to be feeling pretty strange for a while.”

Fat Fetishizing

 

Painting of Lola by Erics Figure Art

[Continued from Feedie for a Night]

It was the Saturday before Halloween.  The night of the party.  Lo had tried on, adjusted, removed, retried, readjusted the Princess Leia costume at least ten times.  She tried manipulating a sash to go across her tum, but that didn’t work.  Not only would it not stay up, it also disguised the costume to the extent that she just looked like a woman from 1001 Nights.  She tried a cape that, if she felt she needed it, she could drape it around her.  She thought that would be a good compromise and she tucked the cape into the collar of the costume.  But it kept falling out.  She tried using a binder clip to affix it, but that was uncomfortable.  In the end she said, “Fine.  Fuck it!”

“That’s what everyone will be saying to you at the party,” I reassured her, “Very fine.  I’ll fuck it.”

“I’m not an it,” she reminded me.

“I know, but I get poetic license for the sake of a pun.”

“Whatever.”

She was in a grouchy mood because, no matter what she did, her round rolls of her tum were prominent.  “It’s like I have three sets of tits,” she complained.

“What?” I asked.

“Here, here, and here,” she said, running her hands over her breasts and then her first roll round the middle of her tum and then her second roll just above her black triangle.

“Lo, but that’s what Mr. Biggs (and I, if I say so myself) find so fucking attractive about you!”

“Fat fetishizing.”

“Darling, if you weren’t fat, I’d fetishize on something else about you.”

“So you’re saying I’m fat!”

“You said it!”

“Grrrrrr.”

BBMPDG Lola

Lo’s phone rang.  It was Mr. Biggs.

“I gotta run!” Lo said to me, darting towards the door.

“No kiss?”

She scuttled back in her brown, strappy heels to give me a peck on the cheek.

“I wish I could go with you,” I said.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” she said with a wink.

“You’ll have fun at your party,” she said.

As it turned out, I had been invited to a party down the street.  Lo said that if the party she was going to with Mr. Biggs was a bust, then she’d join me.  In order to keep with her costume theme, I had bought a Boba Fett outfit, just in case.

Lo was off.  I heard the car pull away from the curb.  For an account of the Hutt’s mistreatment of the Princess, I had to wait until later that night when Lo returned home.  She never did make it to join me at my humdrum Halloween party.

A.I. of Lola and Leia with Darth Vader

It was past three in the morning when I heard the clickity-clop of my princess’s heels on the wooden floor in the hallway.  She took her shoes off there and then silently slipped into the bedroom and into the master bath.  She turned on the light and left the door slightly ajar.  I saw her from the darkness of the bed as she brushed her teeth, still dressed in her costume.  She then sat on the toilet, peed, and came to bed.

“Daddy, are you awake?”

I feigned sleep.  I didn’t want her to think I was so eager.

“Daddy,” she whispered again, closer to my ear.

I grunted.

She reached for my cock under the covers.

“You’re hard,” she whispered with joy in her voice.  She wanted to get laid, I could tell.

I grunted again.

“Stay asleep,” she coaxed, “roll on your back.  Let me use your cock.  I’ll be quick, I promise.”

I rolled on my back.  She pulled my pj bottoms down.  She lowered herself down on my erect shaft slowly.  She was soaking wet.  I slid in easy as could be.

She began bopping up and down, using her index and middle fingers of her right hand to rub circles around her clit.  She was cumming within seconds.  Her moans, groans, and prayers to God were not quiet.  I opened my eyes.  I saw she was still in her princess getup.

“Lola?” I said, as if startled from a dream.

“Shhh, Daddy, I’m almost done.”

“How was your night?” I asked.  I didn’t want her to be done.

“It was good.”

“Good?” I asked.  I was looking for something a bit more descriptive than “good.”

She was posting up-and-down on my cock, revving up for her second orgasm.  Her front teeth were biting down on her lower lip.

“Tell me more,” I implored.

“Grab my tum,” she said.

I did.  It was bouncing up and down and jiggling, just how I like it.

“Am I fat, Daddy?”

Trick question.  Was she in the mood to be fat?  Would saying yes ruin the mood?  I rolled the dice.

“Yes.”

“Fuckable fat?”

“Yes.”

“Freaky fat?”

“Yes.”

She brought herself to an orgasm.  She lifted her pussy up off of my rod to rain her cum down on me and then turn around, reverse cowgirl, and slip right back into the saddle.  I noticed as she did so that she was clean shaven.  When she left the house a few hours ago, she had a hairy bush.

She rode me as I watched her ass rise and fall with stronger and stronger strides down on my cock.  It was as if she needed more, deeper, longer, harder, thicker, fatter.

I could hear her sloppy, wet pussy slapping down and splashing on my hips.  She groaned and growled in rhythm with her own beat.  The sound grew more insistent.  She was reaching, striving for that second (or third?) orgasm, but not quite reaching it.  She pulled forward and turned around on all fours.

“Get behind me!” she insisted, as if there was no time to lose.  “Get in me and fuck me.  Fuck me hard!”

I was on my knees pounding my pelvis into her, slamming her with every ounce of energy I had.  Her head was bouncing forward into the headboard of the bed.  She didn’t care.  The new position wasn’t doing it for her.  She pulled off of me.  She got on her back and slid to the side of the bed with her legs in the air.  The sheets and blankets were soaked by now.

I stood on the side of the bed and held her ankles as I entered her pussy.

“Grab my tits,” she said.  “Pull.”  I pulled her nipples.

“Grab my tum,” she said.  “Slap it.”  I did.  I held it with my fingers like it was dough for kneading.  I slapped it.  I slapped her tits.  She grabbed my right hand and moved it to her cheek.  I knew what she wanted.  I don’t like to do it.  She slowly moved my hand in the motion of what she wanted me to do.  I followed through.  I slapped her, gently at first, across the face.

“Again!” she said.

I slapped her again.

“Harder!”

I slapped her harder.

I did this around ten times.

“Now my pussy,” she said.

I pulled out and slapped her pussy with my palm.

“Harder, faster.”

I gave her pussy about ten hard slaps.

She was frustrated.  She pushed me away.  With her legs in the air, she slapped her own pussy as if punishing it severely.  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  Until she was squirting all over the floor.  She fell backwards and collapsed in the sopping wet bed.  She passed out, leaving me standing over her, hard-up.

I walked away, went to the bathroom, washed up, dried off, and then walked to the living room couch where I went to sleep.

In the next installment – Leia and the Hutt

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