Category Archives: stripping
Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper
2
[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]
In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.
And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.
It was Sunday and it was hot! Hot and humid. There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets. Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before. Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting. I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.
All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.
Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.
Hot Lola on a hot night
I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.
Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.
“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”
“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.
“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”
“I need something to get me up.”
“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.
Would this get you up in the morning?
“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”
“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”
Suddenly we heard a knock.
“What was that?” I asked.
Lo shrugged her shoulders.
Another knock.
“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door. Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.
I opened the door a crack. A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.
“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom. I live across the way, over yonder.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.
“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard. I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great! We’ll be over in about an hour.”
“Sure thing ma’am. Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”
I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.
“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”
“Yes. Why not, Daddy?”
“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”
She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.
“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”
After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house. There was a gate around the backyard.
“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.
“It’s the law,” I said. “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”
“Ah, I get it.”
We walked into the enclosed backyard. By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.
There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini. Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?
“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.
“Hi,” they almost grunted back.
“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked. “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”
One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.
“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked. They were in shorts and t-shirts.
“What?”
“Get naked,” she said plainly.
They did as she said. They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.
Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.
She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.
“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.
The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders. His cock was very close to Lo’s face.
During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool. No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”
When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.
“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”
“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.
“Jerk off! Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”
Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her. That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.
She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.
She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.
She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string. Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.
She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.
Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.
First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin. She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.
When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water. The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.
“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”
They all dove in right quick. They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.
“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool. “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.
“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.
“Suit yourself.”
“More than I can say your suiters have on!”
“Huh? Oh. Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.
After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink. They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo. Ain’t that a twist?
Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”
“Clothes? Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice. Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.
“You sure are.”
“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”
“You got that right,” said one of the guys. When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.
One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.
“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie. I’m good at goaltending.”
“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper. And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”
“No balls! Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”
“Call what – baseball bats?”
“Yeah!”
“Again, wrong sport.”
“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”
“Touché!” I called.
The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola. They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.
Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands. It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands. She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.
We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back. The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”
“Hey!” she called.
“What? You’re down.”
“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop? Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.
Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.
“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“It’s a penalty.”
“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.
Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.
“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.
“Gatekeeper? I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”
“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet. I’ve been gatekeeping.”
“You want praise for that? It’s COVID times. You know that.”
“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”
“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.
But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.
We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs. It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.
Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it. I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books. So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it? But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down. Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!
Anti-Lola
Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography. One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff. I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”
Pro-Lo
To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola. They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.
It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle. The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.
The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up! In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect. The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.
Lola on the News
“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window. “Oh shit!” she said.
“What?” asked one of the guys.
“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”
There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.
“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”
The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”
We filled him in. He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob. I was quite worried. All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.
“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.
Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club. It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.
He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.
“Sure,” she said.
“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day. I was just doing my job.”
“I understand.”
Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.
Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.
“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”
“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”
“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”
“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo. “Would you like to see?” She asked, looking over at the empty stage.
“My own personal show?”
“Yeah. Can you put on some music?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Got any Rihanna?”
“Anything you want.”
“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”
Hagrid put it on. As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me? What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.
“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.
“Thanks,” said Lo. “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”
“What happened?”
“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. We’d treat you right.”
“Oh yeah? How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.
Hagrid was unfazed. He works in a strip club.
It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good
And I can’t get enough
Must be love on the brain.
The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat. Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.
“We treat the girls right. I can assure you of that.”
Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass. Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”
“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo. “My younger sister strips here.”
“What?! No way?”
“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.
“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.
“Why should she?” he asked, naively.
“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”
“Whatever,” he said. “I see her naked and more at home.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”
“Really?”
“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”
“You both live with your parents?”
“No, we have an apartment together.”
“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”
“Yeah. Cheaper that way.”
“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”
“All the time. And women.”
“In her room?”
“In her room, with the door open. In the living room. In the kitchen. It doesn’t really matter to her.”
“I’ve got to meet this woman!”
“You already have.”
“What?!”
“Yeah. The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”
“She’s your sister?!”
“Yep.”
Hagrid looked at his phone.
“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.
“How’s that?”
“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”
“What?! We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man. Double standard? You better believe it.
Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.
Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.
“You!” said the little sister.
“You!” said Lo right back at her. It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp. Who is who? Does it matter?
Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.
Luna Lovegood/Evanna Lynch
The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me. He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.
“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.
“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt. “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”
Evanna Lynch
“Whatever,” said Hagrid.
Evanna Lynch
The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment. It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room. The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly. The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch. The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it. There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.
On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.
“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.
“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna. “He’s a grown man.”
“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.
I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.
“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”
“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.
“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.
“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.
“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here. They know her. They know all about her. To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”
“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig. Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.
“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class. You’re from the city. You’re not from around here.”
“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom. “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”
“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”
“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”
“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.
I played dumb. Lo spread her legs. Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.
She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”
“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.
“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”
“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.
“You can have it,” continued Luna. “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.
“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.
“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.
Luna put out her hand. “A hundred.”
“What?!”
“It will cost you. One Benjamin.”
“Seriously?”
“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”
“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.
“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”
“I don’t have a hundred.”
“What do you have?”
He pulled out his wallet. He opened it. He looked in. “A twenty.”
Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened. “It’s a deal.”
Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.
Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen. The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.
“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.
“Sure,” I said.
“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.
Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”
“Perfect,” said Lo.
As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations. The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.
“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.
“Pretty much every night she dances.”
“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”
Hagrid laughed a little. “You saw how little she weighs. She barely pulls that weight. All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka. “And drugs.”
“That’s too bad.”
Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early. It’s out of his control.
“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.
“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple. Lo here, she’s. . .”
“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.
“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.
“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”
“Fuck! Fuck! Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.
“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake. The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.
“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked. Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat. “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.” It was hot in that shack. No AC.
“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.
Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.
Luna downed it in one gulp. “More,” she said. Was she talking to Lo or Tom?
Lo filled up the glass again.
“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.
She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.
“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo. Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.
“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.
“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.
Luna just gave him her middle finger.
“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder. It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.
“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her. “It’s still in you.”
“Forget the condom. Fuck my ass.”
“I don’t have another one.”
“FUCK. MY. ASS.”
The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.
“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.
“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”
“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”
“ATV or. . . ?”
“We’ll take my pickup truck.”
“Wait!” said Luna. “I want to go with you.”
The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.
“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.
“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.
“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.
“Because, I want to go.”
“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”
Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.
Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.
“Works every time,” said Luna.
“What does?” asked Lo.
“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”
Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth. I couldn’t help but think, “Wow! What a Lola move!”
When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.
Why were all of us in the back seat? Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.
Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap. Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.
“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.
“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.
“Fuck you!” said Luna.
Luna spread her legs. Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass. Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them. She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself. But then she pulled out her hand.
“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom. She tossed it out the window with a laugh.
We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.
“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.
“No problem. Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.
“Will do!”
“Thanks! Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.
“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits. “Stay slutty!”
“You know I will!”
Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.
The End
Lola Down – Cover Girl
Smalltown Strumpet Part II – The Doctor Will See You Now
Smalltown Strumpet
Continued from: A Room with a View
Outdoor Strip Club
NO MASTURBATING
The sign was clear, yet ambiguous. Hung up in a strip joint, did it apply to the relatively rare female patron of the arts?
Lola was keen on testing the bounds of linguistic imprecision.
She unbuttoned her tight short-shorts and slid her hand down for a publicly displayed diddle.
No sooner had she done so than a bouncer came up to our table and said, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that. All patrons need to keep their clothes on.”
“My clothes are on,” she protested, batting her eyelashes at him, continuing to caress her cunt.
Lola’s short shorts before
“You know what I mean,” he said, unmoved by her flirtations.
She removed her hand from between her legs, licked her fingers and buttoned up.
“The nerve,” she said to me once he left.
She got up and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’ll be back. Keep it in your pants until then, ok?”
About five minutes later she returned. She sat down next to me where she was, but this time she turned the little chair around and sat on it backwards, spreading her legs to make room for the back rest.
“What’s up?” I asked, confused.
“Well, your cock would be if you could see me from the front,” she replied.
I was curious. I got up and, carrying a single in my hand, walked to the stage, gently tucked it in the dancer’s thong, turned around, and looked at my love sitting with her legs spread on the backward chair.
Ahhhaaa! I see now. When she went to the restroom, she apparently took with her some knife or something and cut her short-shorts through the crotch revealing her lack of panties. (Or did she take off her panties in the bathroom?)
She was proudly displaying her very widely spread pussy lips covertly through the split seam of her short-shorts. The only ones who could see were the strippers on the stage.
Smart. Smart and sexy. My woman has a head for hedonistic hijinks.
She had to refrain from stroking herself lest she alert the bouncer to her little pussy ploy.
The dancers all danced for her, as if greatly amused by the novelty of an amateur exhibitionist putting on a show for them.
I, for my part, was rather nervous about the whole scenario. It seemed to be inviting trouble.
The dancer’s name wasn’t Trouble, but she accepted the invite. She walked off the makeshift stage, strutted up to Lo’s spread legs, got on her knees and pantomimed cunnilingus. The other men in the audience wanted to get a better view. They sauntered around to look between Lo’s legs and well, soon Mr. Bouncer was back.
Lo closed her legs (a rare act for her) as he gestured that we were to leave.
Lo didn’t make a scene (also rare), but gathered up her dignity (what little was left) and strutted out to the cat-calls and whistles of her supporters.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” I said as we left, quoting from Laurel and Hardy – a film reference from before Lo’s time.
“What? Me?!!!” she said with anger.
“I’m just kidding. But you sure do know how to get ejected quick.”
“Meh,” she said, “I’ve been thrown out of better strip clubs than this.”
“That you have.”
“What now, Daddio?” she asked, grabbing my arm as we walked down the street.
“Now we hope we don’t get arrested.”
“I have a better idea,” she said, pulling me down a dirt road that intersected with street where we were walking.
“Lo,” I said, “I have a feeling your idea is not better.”
She ignored me and pulled me further, before bending over to expose the wide gap in her shorts that revealed the wide gap that is her pussy.
“What good are these shorts if we’re not going to use them for a quick doggin’ session?” she asked over her shoulder. “Bang me!”
Lola’s short shorts after
I looked left and right and saw no one. I will admit, I was feeling pent up power needing penetration after the show at the strip club. I hastily pulled out my cock and entered Lo from behind. She let out a long, loud moan.
“Lo, if you want me to keep this going then you need to put on your silencer.”
I rapidly ransacked her raw desire as she gushed girly juice all over my rod. She was overflowing, soaking what little remained of the crotch of her pants.
Lo knows when I’m about to blow and, anticipating my climax, she lunged forward and spun around, landing on her knees, taking my cock in her mouth to catch every precious drop of fluid.
Swallowing her fill, she dabbed the edges of her mouth where a bit had dripped and she sat on the ground to stroke herself silly as I watched and put away my spent serpent.
Finger-fucking herself, she eventually squirted, sprinkling the earth with her holy water.
Mission completed, she got up, dusted herself off, and we continued on our way back to the street and then the center of town.
At one point she walked in front of me and, over her shoulder asked, “Can you see the hole in my shorts, Daddio?”
“Nope, not at all,” I said.
“Too bad.”
We got back to the car and, as I was driving us home, she spread her legs and was touching herself.
“Lo, come on. Didn’t you have enough?”
“It itches, Daddy.”
“Well, wait until we get home. We’ve had one-too-many close calls today.”
“No, I mean it really itches.”
She wasn’t stroking, she was scratching.
She spread her legs wider and looked between them. “It’s irritated.”
I drove faster. “I’ll get you home and you can take a shower. Maybe that will help.”
In my haste to get her home, I got pulled over by a cop. Out here the cops just lie in wait for out-of-state license plates and pluck them off like fish in a barrel.
“What the fuck?” said Lo as I slowed down, edging to the side of the road.
“Cop,” I said, furious that I was going to get a speeding ticket.
“I’m really in some serious discomfort here,” said Lo.
“What do you want me to do, have a high-speed chase through the dirt road Dukes of Hazzard style?”
Cops know that if you’re speeding, you’re in a rush and so they purposely take their time getting out of the car, walking up to the driver’s side window, and talking. This guy was no different. All the while Lo was clamping her thighs together, trying to itch herself surreptitiously.
“Hello officer,” I said when he finally greeted me.
“License and registration,” was all he said as he looked us over, apparently liking what he saw in the passenger seat.
I reached in front of Lo to the glove compartment to grab the papers.
“Hi officer,” said Lo, flirtatiously, but clearly agitated.
“Ma’am,” was all he said.
He took the papers and just as slowly as he had walked to the car, he walked back to his cruiser.
Lo spread her legs and began rubbing, slapping, and smacking her pussy to make the itching go away. She was getting distressed rapidly.
“I can’t take this! I don’t know what’s happening! Look!” she said, swiveling in her seat toward me and spreading her legs. Her entire pussy was swollen with red irritation. So were her knees. “I must have sat in poison ivy!!!”
I was very concerned. Where was that cop?
“We have to go to the hospital, not home,” said Lo, pleading and commanding simultaneously.
Finally the cop came back and gave me a $75.00 ticket.
I took it from him and asked, “Can you tell me the fastest way to get to a hospital?”
“What?”
“We need to go to the hospital right away.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Lo,” I said, “Do you want to show the officer?”
Lo turned toward me again and spread her legs showing her poisoned pussy.
There was a lot of information for the cop to take in at once: the ripped shorts, Lola flashing him, the inflamed pussy. But he took it in stride and simply said, “Follow me.” (I wondered if he was wearing a bodycam that would broadcast to headquarters Lo’s exposing herself.)
He was no longer sauntering. He got in his patrol car quickly and drove so fast that I was hardly able to keep up.
In about fifteen minutes we were at the emergency entrance to the little local hospital. Lo jumped out of the car as I thanked the officer.
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“We were out on a hike and, I guess she fell into some poison ivy.”
“Naked?”
“No, she was wearing shorts.”
He looked puzzled.
“Hey,” he said. “You can forget about that speeding ticket. I’ll revoke it when I get back to the station.”
“Thanks,” I said, genuinely surprised. “Thanks a lot. For everything!”
I parked the car and went into the emergency room waiting area. I found Lo sitting and squirming in her seat.
“You checked in?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“What’s the wait time?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
She was going out of her mind and my questions weren’t helping.
Finally a nurse escorted us to a little examination room that was cordoned off from the others by a thin blue curtain hanging from a bar that made three sides of a rectangle around us.
“Please remove your clothes and get into this,” said the nurse, handing Lo a blue hospital gown.
Lo couldn’t take off her clothes fast enough. Down went the shorts, up went the shirt. She spread her legs and began smacking her pussy.
“I don’t know what else to do,” she said in frustration. “Get me a wet towel. Cold water.”
“That might make it worse,” I cautioned.
“Shut up and do it!”
There was no debate. I followed her instructions and gave her the wet paper towel. She placed it over her pussy.
“Does that help?” I asked.
“A little. Where is that doctor?”
We waited for what felt like an interminably long time before the doctor finally arrived to examine Lo.
“Is it ok if I’m here?” I asked, not wanting to overstep my bounds.
“Are you her father?” he asked, stupidly.
“He’s my lover,” said Lo.
I was tempted to add, “And father,” but I refrained. No time for jokes.
“If it’s ok with the patient, then you can stay,” he said, embarrassed. “So, what brings you here today?” he asked.
Lo hiked up her flimsy hospital gown and spread her legs. The doctor looked. “Not usually this swollen, I take it?” he asked.
“No!” said Lo, insulted.
The doctor put on rubber gloves. I noticed he wore a wedding band. “May I?” he asked, moving in to touch Lo down there.
I have to admit, I was hard. Very hard.
He used his thumb to spread her pussy lips and look very, very carefully.
Lo tried to assist him by offering her professional opinion. “I think it’s poison ivy.”
“Hmmmm,” said the doctor. “Is it anywhere else?”
“A little on my knees,” said Lo.
The doctor looked at Lo’s knees.
“Do you mind removing the gown?” he asked. “I’d like to see if it is anywhere else.”
Lo complied. Standing naked in front of the doctor he looked her over. It seemed he was examining her more as a man than a man of medicine.
He had her turn around and bend over. He looked carefully between her ass cheeks. It was rather degrading to Lo. Infantilizing.
She turned back around to face the doctor and sat down, naked still.
“Were you in the woods?” he asked.
I was curious as to how Lo would answer this one.
“We went for a walk through the woods, yes,” she said. “At one point we sat down on the grass.”
“Do you have any rash?” asked the doctor of me.
“No, none.”
“Just you?” he asked of Lo, rhetorically. “And only, er, there and on your knees? That is odd.”
Lo was losing her patience. Not a patient patient, you might say.
“Yeah, well, how I got it isn’t important. How are we going to treat it? It’s painful.”
“Painful?”
“Yes.”
“Itchy?”
“A little.”
“How long ago were you, uh, sitting in the grass?”
“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so ago.”
“Well, it’s not poison ivy. That would take about a day to appear. My guess is poison nettles.”
“Is that bad?” asked Lo as if being given a terminal diagnosis. “I never heard of poison nettles.”
“Very common around these parts. Never saw a case like this though,” he said, looking at Lo’s pussy.
“What can you do about it?”
“Well, normally I’d say soap and water and let it run its course.”
“I can’t even walk!” shrieked Lo in horror. “There has to be something.”
“An oral steroid will work pretty fast. But just to make sure it works, do you mind if I take a photo as a before comparison?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.
“Go ahead,” said Lo, spreading her legs and using both hands to pull her pussy lips wide apart.
“And one from behind, to make sure it doesn’t spread to the anus,” he said, trying to sound clinical.
Lo got up, turned around, bent over, and spread her butt cheeks for him to snap a few photos.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving us alone.
“That was weird, right?” I asked Lo.
“Yes,” agreed Lo, back to scratching and slapping her pussy, now that the doctor was gone.
“He used his own phone to take a photo. And one from behind.”
“Whatever,” she said, dismissively. “I’ll give him the blog address if he’s that into me. Whatever it takes to have this go away!”
“I bet he’s jackin’ off to your photos in his office right now,” I said.
“I don’t really care,” she said, putting her hospital gown on.
We waited. Lo grew more distressed at her discomfort. She spread her legs and began slapping her pussy. She was hoping the pain would replace the itch. As she was busy between her legs a nurse walked in. She was taken by surprise when she saw me sitting next to Lo and Lo going to town on her twat. Lo looked up at the startled woman with an angry countenance and said, “Poison nettles,” and continued slapping the puffy petals.
The nurse disappeared as quickly as she had entered. Apparently she had forgotten whatever it was she had to do there.
A few moments later a different doctor walked in. He introduced himself as a specialist from dermatology. He said the previous doctor wanted him to render a second opinion on the rash. “Do you mind if I see it?” he asked, clearly aware of what part of Lo’s body was affected.
Lo spread her legs yet again.
The doctor made all sorts of thoughtful, considered grunts and moans. “Hmmmm, ah. Yes. Hmmm. I see. Anything on the back or chest? If there is a rash on the chest it could indicate a severe allergy. May I check?”
Lo removed her gown again and brought her breasts within kissing range of the doctor’s face. He looked them over carefully. “Well, that is good,” he finally said, “appears to be confined to the. . . uh. . . lower parts.”
“May I put on my gown or did you want to check my ass?” asked Lo. “The other doctor checked my ass. Wanted to make sure it hadn’t spread to my anus.”
“Does your anus itch?” asked the doctor.
“No, not really.”
“Well, if you want me to check it out, I will.”
Lo turned around and bent over.
“May I?” asked the doctor before grabbing her ass cheeks.
“Go right ahead.”
He spread her ass cheeks wide and, as she was bent over, he asked, “It itches here?” He touched her vulva with his fingers. Notably, he wasn’t wearing gloves, but he too was wearing a wedding band.
“Yes. It stings a bit there.”
“And here?” he asked as he slid his fingers to the back of her pussy.
“Yes,” she said over her shoulder.
“But nothing here,” he said, running his fingertips gently around Lo’s anus.
“No.”
“That’s good,” he said, letting go of her ass. “You may turn around.”
“Do you also want a photo?” asked Lo.
“What? Uh, no. That is not necessary.”
“Because the other doctor has a few?”
“Yes, yes.”
“He showed you?”
“No, he didn’t,” said the doctor, blushing.
“Will a third doctor need to see me? Maybe all the male doctors of the hospital would like to render an opinion?”
At this point I couldn’t tell if Lo was sarcastically calling out the doctor’s unprofessional voyeurism or if she was letting her fantastically erotic imagination run wild.
“That won’t be necessary,” said the doctor. “I’ll just go consult with my colleague and we’ll get you a prescription.”
“This town is full of sexually frustrated men,” said Lo to me when we were alone again. “And I have to pee,” she added.
“There has to be a bathroom close by.”
“B-R-B,” she said, getting up and leaving our little semi-private area, walking down the hall with her butt crack exposed by the hospital gown.
When she returned, I asked her, “Did you really have to pee or did you just want to put on a little show?”
“A little from column A and a little from column B.”
She laid down on her side, her rear exposed by the skimpy hospital gown in the back.
Another nurse popped in and saw Lo’s rear. She looked at me. “The doctor will be right here,” she said. She looked at Lo and asked me, “Is she ok?”
“Yes,” I said, “just recovering from overexposure.”
The nurse looked puzzled and disappeared.
Lo sat up and said, “More people have seen my ass here than in our books.”
“That’s not true,” I said, my pride bruised by the comment. “I know, on good authority, that your ass has been seen by thousands.”
“Give it some time,” replied Lo.
Now both doctors returned to our room.
“Amazing attention you’re getting, Lo,” I said. “Does your staff treat everyone this way or is this a particularly extraordinary case of poison pussy?” I asked the doctors. They chuckled.
“Here is the prescription said the first doctor,” handing me the note.
“And here is an ointment that should cool down and numb the stinging and itching pretty quickly,” he said, passing it to Lola.
“Can I apply it right now?” she asked, eagerly taking the small tube from him.
“Yes.”
Before either of the doctors could leave, Lo removed the cap and looked up at them. “How much should I use?”
“About enough to cover the tip of your finger should do it,” said the doctor.
Lo squeezed out the white cream that looked like toothpaste and applied it to her fingertip. She then spread her legs and smeared it all around the labia.
“Is it for external use only? Cause it itches inside a bit too.”
“Do you mind,” said the doctor, “if I show you how you can apply it to the sensitive region?”
“Not at all.”
The doctor then put a dab on his fingertip and rubbed the ointment up and down Lo’s pussy lips, careful not to penetrate. “I’d recommend not going any deeper than that,” he said.
Lo was moaning, “MMMMmmmmm, that feels good. Tingly. Can you apply some to my anus, doctor? It’s beginning to itch too.”
Lo lifted her legs higher, exposing her behind to both doctors. The doctor ran his finger around her sphincter. “How’s that?”
“Much better,” moaned Lo seductively. “So, nothing internal?”
“No, not with this. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“If it itches internally?” asked Lo.
“Well, KY jelly or lube is fine. It may help cool it down.”
“You’ll take care of me?” Lo asked, looking at me. I could almost hear her say, “Daddy.”
“Yes, Lo. I’ll try to be as attentive as these good doctors.”
She smiled. She spread her legs again and asked, “Did you get all the affected areas?”
The doctor applied a tad bit more of the cream to his fingertip and began to apply it to her clit. Big mistake.
I saw her look up at me. She bit her lower lip. I saw her hands tense up and her nails dig into the backs of her legs.
Suddenly, Lo squirted a laser-like shot directly onto her tits. It was a strange shot since she was contorted with her legs being held by her arms and her anus exposed.
“Wow!” remarked the doctor who was standing up, breaking with his professional demeanor.
“Whoops!” squealed Lo, playfully, “I sometimes do that.”
She let her legs down and as she did so, another squirt shot out and got the doctor in front of her, right on his chest.
“I can’t control it. Honestly!” she said defensively.
“It’s ok,” said the good doctor, calmly, yet taking a couple of steps back.
“I’ve just been rubbing it all day and so now it’s. . .”
She squirted a third time on the white tile floor, making a puddle. This time she didn’t try to stop. It was a lot. Her head went back and she said, “Fuuuuuuck!” Since we weren’t cut off from the rest of the emergency room by real walls, I’m sure those in the immediate vicinity could hear her.
“Well,” said one of the doctor as he wiped down his tie, “if that will be all, we’ll get going.”
“Thank you. Thank you both,” said Lo, a smile on her face clearly apparent even under her mask, her legs pressed together over the mess she had made. She batted her eyelashes at the two doctors flirtatiously. I passed her a few tissues to wipe down her chest.
The doctors lingered to watch her do this. She dried herself off and then reached in her bag and pulled out a magazine.
“I can tell that you both are two very ethical men of science,” began Lo. I was wondering where she was going with this. “Perhaps you’d be interested in reading this magazine I happen to have found in the waiting room of the hospital? There’s a fascinating article in it on nymphomania. Actually, I have more than just a casual interest in this subject and I’d be very interested to get your professional opinions on it and the claims made in the article.” She passed one of the doctors a copy of Ethical Non-Monogamy. An article I had written about Lola was featured with a spread of her. It was called, “A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition.” Lo found a pen next to her on the small table and carefully wrote her email address, downloladown@gmail.com, on the back cover of the magazine.
ENM Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine Lola Spread
The doctors left, magazine in hand like a consolation prize.
“Lo,” I said disapprovingly. “You are bad.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that it’s all beyond her control – the exhibitionism, the squirting, the flirting, the manipulation.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, “before they call the cops on you.”
“I didn’t do anything illegal. Why would they call the cops?”
“Carrying a concealed weapon.”
“I’m naked, what could I possibly carry that’s concealed?”
“Your dirty mind!”
“Well, you would get me off, wouldn’t you Daddy?”
“I think it would take me and the rest of the town to get you off completely.”
“Well, let’s get home and you can examine the body of evidence.”
It was getting dark as we drove to John’s home where she had me wait on her hand-and-foot through her convalescence.
[To be continued. . . ]
Smalltown Strumpet – A Room with a View
Part I – A Room with a View
Book Cover, Excerpt
How do you like the view?
My friend John has a large house out in the woods. After fifteen months of COVID lockdown, he and his family were eager to get out and go on a vacation. He called me up one day and asked if Lo and I would be interested in a house swap. We’d get to use his country farmhouse and they’d get to stay in the city at our apartment. Lo was game. A weeklong vacation in June sounded good to her. “We’ll have a love-fest,” she said, licking her lips.
“When you say it, it sounds like a sextival.”
“Yes, that does sound better!” She looked off into the distance. “Imagine,” she said, “Merry-go-arounds, Ferris wheels, haunted houses – all for sexual variety.”
“Don’t forget the fun we could have with cotton candy.”
“We could do that at home.”
“The only downside to this swap is that John had asked if I would install a couple of windows in their kitchen so they could look out on the front lawn when doing dishes.”
John, though very skilled, knows that I worked as a carpenter in my twenties. He preferred that I do the window framing because he was concerned his amateurish abilities would lead to leaks and other problems.
“Do I have to help you?” asked Lo.
“No, I don’t think I’ll need help.”
“Well, then it sounds like a great plan to me!”
We arrived Friday night and Lo made an excellent meal with the provisions John had left for us. As a token of his gratitude, he left a very expensive bottle of Scotch for me.
The next day was sunny and warm. In fact, that was the forecast for the whole week. I was glad for it, since it meant I wouldn’t have to worry about the weather while I cut a hole in the wall of the house, framed out the windows, installed them, and then did the finish-work on the outside and inside.
As I was arranging my tools for the job, Lo came downstairs in a skimpy bikini.
“And where are you going?” I asked her.
“To tan.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Right there,” she said, pointing to the front lawn. The backyard was basically woods. The front lawn was flat and open, but the house was on a fairly busy street – busy for the country, that is. Cars were constantly driving by – maybe one or two a minute.
“Lo, are you seriously going to suntan like that?”
“Like what?”
“Wearing that thong bikini.”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because. . . because, uh, your pussy lips.”
“What about my pussy lips?”
“They’re too big for that thong. They’re hanging out and over, flapping on either side of it.”
String Thong
“So?”
“What do you mean ‘so’?”
“I mean, bikinis are meant to accentuate the positive.”
“And you have positively large, long, and loose pussy lips.”
“I prefer to think of them as limber,” she said, pulling at her labia to show me their elasticity.
“Call them limber, call them lithe, call them labia-lobes, I don’t care what you call them, they are flopping in the wind, exposed.”
“Since when have you become such a prude?”
“Suit yourself.”
“That’s exactly what I’ll do. And I fully expect to find many suitors at the beach this summer.”
“I’m sure that they will expect to fill you too.”
“The more meat between these thighs the better!”
“Well, need I remind you, this is not the beach. We’re in a rural town in the sticks and you’ll be flashing your wares on the front lawn. I wouldn’t be surprised if the village vice squad slapped a fine right on your ass.”
“I bet they’d like to touch this fine ass too!” she said, turning tail and walking out the front door. I could see the silhouette of her labia in her thigh gap as she strutted away. I watched as she set up her lounge chair on the lawn, close enough to the road for everyone to get a good look. She purposefully spread her legs as she adjusted her bikini top. Cars were slowing down as they drove by, in order to get a closer look.
I watched her for a bit before taking a drill to the wall and cutting a hole right through to the exterior.
“Hey Lo,” I called across the front lawn.
She turned around.
“Come here, I want to show you something.”
She didn’t look pleased that I was interrupting her exhibitionism, I mean relaxation. She sauntered across the lawn, flaunting her ass in the thong to the throngs of people in the street. At least in her mind that was what she was doing. In reality, cars were passing by at their usual rate.
“This better be good,” she said.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the circle I had cut in the wall.
“What is it?”
“Well, it’s the bottom left corner of where the window is going to go. I’ll use the Sawzall to cut out the rectangle, but that’s what I’ve done so far.”
“Are you going to have me praise each and every step of your progress?”
“No, I just thought you’d want to see it because right now it could double as a glory hole.”
“Not for you it couldn’t. That wall has to be at least eight inches thick.”
Deflated, I said, “You may return to your previous position as lawn ornament.”
I pulled out the Sawzall and recalled how a while back Lo and I looked into converting reciprocating saws into sex machines. We ultimately passed on the idea because, after a bit of research, we found that a number of women had sustained serious injuries from the DIY project.
I cut through the wall and hung a tarp over it. That was enough work for one day.
I went to the front porch, opened a cold beer, and watched as Lola played the part of town strumpet for the passersby.
The next day I had to frame the rough cutout I had made. I measured twice to insure cutting once.
With the three-by-six foot gaping hole in the wall, I had a direct view of my little Lo as she allowed her slightly smaller gaping hole be on display in the front yard. She wore the same bikini as the day before and today promised to be a repeat performance.
However, word must have spread among the locals, for now there was pedestrian traffic whereas yesterday there was none. This is a town without sidewalks, mind you. People – excuse me – men had to go out of their way to stroll casually down the street as if they were on an errand. No such errand existed because there was nowhere to go.
One of the men, wearing overalls no less, stopped to ask if John was home.
“Nope,” said Lo, looking him up and down over the top of her dark sunglasses.
“His wife home?” asked the gentleman.
“Nope.”
“Anyone home?”
“Just me and my ole man,” said Lo, pointing her thumb in my direction.
At a loss, the overalls observer moseyed his merry way down the street.
A half hour later another voyeur just happened to be passing by. He was a little more clever than the first one. He politely asked Lo if she might have a glass of water for him on this brutally warm day. This had the desired effect of getting Lo up and letting her strut her way across the lawn back to the house to fetch him some water.
He drank it in one swig, all the while looking Lo over from head to toe.
“Thank you,” he said, realizing his reason for standing there was no longer valid.
I swear, Lo should have been collecting admission fees!
You would think not a single man in this town ever saw a sexy woman.
The third day I was all set to lift the window into the frame and secure it. To my great astonishment, a friendly neighbor came over to offer me some help. He was in his early twenties and he spoke to Lo, who was again lying out in front, first, asking if I wanted a hand with the window.
She directed him my way. I said I’d be happy to have another man help me ease it in and hold it there while I leveled it all out before screwing it in good. I do believe he was eager to do all those things, just not with the window.
He assisted me in the task which took only a quarter of an hour and then he asked if I needed help with anything else. I told him I was all set. The rest was just finishing work I could do myself.
He said he’d get going and he walked up to Lo to say goodbye (and take one more good look at her).
She looked at him over her glasses and said, “Like what you see?”
“Yes, yes I do,” he said.
“You hard?”
“No, not right now.”
“Get hard,” she said.
“What?”
“Get hard and jack off.”
“Here?”
“To me. I like that.”
“Here?” he repeated.
“Where else?” she asked. “I’m sitting here ain’t I?”
“Yes, but.”
“You can keep it in your pants. Just let me see the cum stain when you’re done.”
He reached in his pockets with both hands and, watching her lying there, her meaty mound surrounding the thin thong, and he came within a few minutes.
“Good boy,” said Lo. “Feel better?”
“I can hardly walk, but yeah.”
“Don’t tell anyone about this, ok? It’s our little secret.”
“Sure. See you later,” he said as he hobbled away.
I brought her a cold drink once he was out of eyeshot and she looked up at me, accepting it as if she had ordered it from a cabana boy, and said, “Still got it.”
I should tell you, dear reader, that each and every night, after her hours of daytime display, Lo would be hungry for my cock. Being away from home and her toy chest, she used me to the full extent of my abilities which, as always, was not nearly enough for her. Those nights, I saw her fuck: a broom handle, a bedpost, and a shampoo bottle. None of this is new. I’ve seen it all before, just not in rapid sequence. The retreat to the country was like a recharge of her sexual energy.
“How about tomorrow we go to town and explore a little?” I asked. “I’m nearly done with the window. I can take a day off.”
The next day, instead of Lo donning her microbikini and me sweating away at the carpentry, we put on our rural regalia and ventured out to taste the local flavor. Apropos of the occasion, Lo was wearing her “Daisy Dukes” and a little flannel shirt. She tied the bottom front corners of the shirt into a bow in order to display her midriff. She looked sweet walking down the street in the sunlight. We hit up the nick-nack stores, the antique shop, the bookstore (of course) and grabbed some lunch followed by ice cream.
She got some long stares from passersby on the sidewalk and in the boutiques. In the early afternoon, as we were cruising around the countryside just taking it all in, what should we espy on a desolate corner but the local strip club.
It was COVID times, so the establishment had converted a large part of the rear parking lot into a fenced off cabaret. There was a roughly constructed stage of two-by-fours and plywood, a few small tables and chairs set up for the patrons, and scantily-clad waitresses running drinks from the bar inside to the thirsty men outside.
They were all men, except Lo. Did they think Lo was a stripper when she walked in with me? I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.
We sat down at a table and ordered a couple of beers. We watched the ladies of the hamlet dance and, if I’m being honest, they couldn’t hold a candle to Lo’s flame. The men were intrigued by the female foreigner in their midst and eyed Lo more than they eyed the day’s entertainment. Lo knew it too. She nudged my arm for me to observe the attention she was getting and then nodded in the general direction of the fence where, in handwritten scrawl, a sign was posted that said, “NO MASTURBATING.”
I know the question that was going through Lo’s mind at that moment: Does that apply to women too?
I saw her reach down and undo the button on her shorts, reach her right hand down under them and under her panties (if she was wearing panties), and saw the outline of her small hand rubbing her mons pubis. It made a bulge in the front of her shorts as her bare legs were spread wide and she watched the women on the stage in various states of undress. Her head fell back, her mouth opened just a bit.
Lola outside, short-shorts
To Be Continued. . .
I Need a Dirty Woman, I Need a Dirty Girl
We were into December. It had been almost a month since our last “drive-in” date with Ron and Nicole. In the meantime, they kept up an intense correspondence with us through email. Turns out that they have three kids, all under ten, and she has been dealing with some health issues that have impaired her energy and libido. He is an avid nudist and exhibitionist who loves to go to clothing optional beaches and bare it all! Although he doesn’t have that much to bare. Not to worry, Lo is always intrigued by different shapes and sizes.
Ron
Poor Ron was eager to please – his wife and anyone who would have him. Nicole, however, was not so keen on sex. Even before her medical problems dampened her desire, she was not enthusiastic about her sex life with Ron. They had dated since high school. They were raised as good Catholic kids and told not to have sex before marriage. They got married in their early twenties and that’s when Nicole was disabused of the adage “size doesn’t matter.” No. It really did matter for her. But, due to her upbringing, she wasn’t able to think about alternatives. Masturbation, sex toys, other partners were all off the table. She wasn’t even comfortable with having sex in any other position than missionary.
Nicole
After the birth of their third child and the onset of medical issues, she not only couldn’t feel Ron’s cock, but wasn’t interested in it anymore either.
They had tried a couples’ counselor, a marriage therapist, and now were working with a sex coach. They went to a woman Ron had found on the internet who specializes in Catholic sexuality. She had suggested that they both explore their own bodies alone, with porn, erotica, or whatever excited them. For Ron, that was easy – nude beaches, exposing himself, and being seen, even if only virtually were already in his wheelhouse. He had discovered a number of websites where he could hang-out as much as he wished and no one would be offended.
Ron & Nicole – the happy couple
For Nicole, this was much more difficult because her sexual desire was directly related to her guilt. She required multiple special sessions, one-on-one, with the sexologist. Through the coaching, she slowly learned to appreciate sex and sexuality in a new way. Rather than think of it as a necessary bodily function that had to be endured in order to achieve a certain result, much like relieving oneself in the privy, she was opened up to the idea that sex was sacred, divine, and a sacrament. The Church doesn’t often promote this aspect of sex. Why would they? The officers of the institution are all celibate! It would be like college professors encouraging students to get an education outside of academia.
Nicole
Slowly, Nicole came round to the notion of at least accepting her sexuality rather than being ashamed of it. And that went for Ron’s sexuality as well – if Nicole could accept that she is a sexual being, then this was the first step to accepting that Ron is also a sexual being. The next step was to realize that sexuality is not experienced or expressed uniformly. It is like the sun – its origin is the same, but how it illuminates various objects depends on the individual make-up of each object. Some are square and green. Others are round and pink and white stripes. Similarly, we all feel sexual urges, but they manifest differently for each of us. For some that means hetero, monogamous, vaginal intercourse. But for others, it can be expressed in a myriad of ways – from men wearing woman’s panties, to women donning strap-ons.
Nicole
This was a great hurdle for Nicole to overcome. But, along the way, she was willing to try new things for the sake of the relationship. Through Ron’s explorations of the interweb, he found Lola, struck up a correspondence, included Nicole, and eventually we had our first “date,” which I already described for you. Through our correspondence, it became clear that Ron desperately wanted Lo and Nicole desperately wanted to be like Lo.
Nicole
Lola in her thong
They were eager to have a second date. Due to COVID, we had to take the same precautions, but we arranged to meet in a remote spot, far outside of our city, so that the experience wouldn’t be foiled again.
Ron hanging out
Nicole’s medical issues had done things to her body that caused her even more shame. She didn’t want us to be shocked so, in preparation for our second date and to help her become more comfortable with her body (that Ron, incidentally, found very desirable) she posed for some boudoir photos taken by her husband. They emailed them to us.
“Do you still want to do this?” she asked, afraid we’d be turned off by how gravity distorted her once toned and tight flesh.
“Yes!” replied Lo, enthusiastically. “Every body is beautiful in its own way.”
Much was the same on our second date as it was on the first. Cold. Late night. Dark, vacant parking lot. The two cars parked next to each other. But this time Lo had put some thought into the “performance” she wished to put on for the struggling couple. She stripped naked and danced seductively in front of their headlights. They had on their high-beams and, thanks to the chill, Lo’s were on too!
Lo sauntered up to the passenger side window where Nicole sat and pressed her tits up against the glass. Nicole and Ron had removed their clothing too and Lo could get an imperfect view of them behind the frosted glass and through the round figure eight where her tits had melted the icy coating.
Nicole
Lo returned to the car where we had the heat blasting and took out her phone. She called Ron. Their phone was on speaker, as was ours.
“Did you like what you saw?” Lo asked.
“Very much,” replied Ron.
“Are you hard?” asked Lo.
“As hard as I can get,” he said.
“Yeah, I saw. Two inches?”
“Slightly longer than that, when I’m hard.”
“I’m stroking him,” chimed in Nicole.
“Suck him,” commanded Lo.
“Can we watch you suck off HH?” she asked.
Lo looked up at me. “Will you stay hard if we go outside?”
“For you, darling, anything.”
First she warmed me up in the car with her mouth, the wetness of which only made the shock of the cold air even more acute.
We got in front of the headlights and Lo got on her knees, taking me in her mouth.
We lasted like that for about a minute or so, but then hopped back into the heated car.
Nicole said that Ron had cum already.
“What about you?”
“I haven’t cum in ages,” she said with a certain sadness in her voice. She also sounded resigned to this fact.
“HH is going to suck on my hard nipples,” said Lo, taking me to her chest. “I can cum through nipple stimulation alone.” She didn’t mean to sound as if she was bragging, but wanted to inform them why she’d soon be moaning and even calling out that she’s cumming.
Lo’s Orgasmic Nipples
“I wish I could,” said Nicole.
As I sucked, bit, stretched, nibbled, and tongued Lo’s nipples, we could hear Ron and Nicole getting their clothes back on. They drove away as Lo climaxed, but they left the phone on to hear it.
When Lo regained her composure, she went down on me as I put the car in reverse and drove home.
Truthfully, I forgot that Lo’s phone was still on as I commented about how hot Lo was and what a show she put on for the couple.
Lo occasionally took her lips off of my cock to remark about how she wished we weren’t in COVID times so she could have let Nicole suck her tits through the window or so she could have gone over to the driver’s side, reached down between Ron’s legs and give him a handjob.
She resumed sucking as I drove the abandoned streets. She said she wished that Nicole would wear a strap-on and fuck her over the hood of the car.
Suddenly, through Lo’s phone, we heard moaning and heavy breathing. It was loud – loud enough for us to hear it over my own heavy breathing and Lo’s slurping. It was Nicole. She was cumming.
Ron informed us after the peak had subsided that Nicole masturbated (for the first time!) in the car on the ride home, listening to us and the dirty things Lo was saying and she managed to bring herself to a clitoral climax.
Mission accomplished.
COVID Birthday
“Happy birthday!” said Lo in a sing-song tone.
Lola’s Gifts
I rolled over. It was early. Earlier than Lo gets up in the morning. She wanted to make the day special for me since she knew that we couldn’t have a party or celebrate in any way that resembled birthdays past.
“Wanna have birthday sexy?” she said, rubbing her large breasts up against my bare back in bed, swinging her right leg up and over my hip and sliding her pussy up and down my hip.
“Not now,” I said like a real ingrate.
“Oh, don’t be like that. Let’s get it on. You’ll be the oldest person I ever fucked. Again.”
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Just checking.”
I slid my legs over the side of the bed and sat up. I sat for a while contemplating the day before me. I’m not a very social or sociable person. That’s Lo’s department. But this COVID thing did drive home just how much I actually enjoy being with people.
This year there would be no party, no rowdy crowd, now carousing. Just a few cards. Maybe a phone call or two. I had already told Lo, absolutely NO Zoom party.
I stood up slowly and made my way to the bathroom.
“Leave it open!” Lo called, as usual. She has a fetish for seeing a man pee.
I shut the door behind me.
When I emerged from the privy, I found Lo on the bed, legs spread, finger placed between her labia.
“Ready Daddio?”
“Not now, Lo.”
She rolled over and stuck her bum in the air. “Birthday spanking?”
I patted her behind gently as I walked by it, exiting the bedroom to go make my coffee.
It was a weekday and so I went through my usual morning routine to get ready for work.
Lo, to my surprise, got dressed and was ready to go out the door before I was.
“Forget to buy a card?” I asked sarcastically. It was cruel.
“Yeah,” she said, “I’m going to buy a condolence card since you seem to be set on mourning everything you don’t have.”
She left and I suddenly felt very alone. Having Lo around to spout off my spoiled whining to was better than having no one around.
I ate breakfast, got dressed, hopped in the car, and drove to the office.
There would be no one at the office, again, thanks to COVID. Everyone was working remotely.
I climbed the stairs to the floor that my office is on and turned to walk down the long hall to it when, looking up, I saw that the door to my office was open and, sitting there, framed by the doorway, was a sexy blonde wearing, it appeared, nothing but her black facemask.
I practically rubbed my eyes thinking I was still dreaming. Was this a femme fatale straight out of a fifties’ movie? Was I going to walk up to my office and she’d sit there, light a long cigarette in an even longer black filter, and speak to me in a sultry voice? “Mr. H. I would like to hire you to sue my husband. It’s a hard case. Do you like it when it’s hard? I know I do.”
I walked slowly down the silent hallway. Her eyes were trained on mine. I got to the doorway. She uncrossed her legs and spread them wide. I could see now she was wearing merely an extreme micro bikini. I stopped at the threshold.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
“Happy birthday, Mr. H,” she replied.
Before I could ask how she knew it was my birthday, how she got into my office, or even who she was, she added, “Why don’t you come inside and shut the door behind you so we can have some privacy?”
I took a step in and closed the door. It was then that I saw, inside my office, just out of sight from the doorway, was Lola, sitting in the waiting room chair. Oh, thank God!
“Lola,” I said in my Ricky Ricardo voice.
“Hi Daddy! Surprised?”
“What’s going on here?”
“This is Candie. She’s a strip- er. . . exotic dancer, and she’s here to perform for you.”
“For me?”
“Well, for us.”
Candie stood up and just smiled. She stood in the middle of the reception area on the hardwood floor in her tall stripper heels.
Lo turned on some music, Candie’s playlist, I imagine.
I smell sex and candy here
Who’s that lounging in my chair
Who’s that casting devious stares
In my direction
Mama this surely is a dream
Very appropriate, especially since her long blonde hair did smell like candy – cotton candy. I sat down in the leather club chair where Lo had been and enjoyed the show. She danced for a bit in her teeny-bikini, and then the top came off. I saw her nipples were very hard. That’s when I realized it was chilly in the office. Lo had opened the windows to keep the air circulating. Can’t be too careful.
To my surprise, Candie’s bottoms, what little there were of them, also came off. As they did, Lo found her way to me and slid me out of my jeans. She reached down to see how hard I was. Very. She got between my legs and went down on my rod like it was her candy. I put up no resistance.
Lo looked up at me and said, “You like, Daddy?”
I looked down at her and said, “I do. But I’d rather have you.”
That didn’t take much convincing. Lo stood up and, as if she were on stage with Candie, removed her blouse, bra, skirt, and panties. She kept her heels on. Then she sat on my lubricated lingam and I eased into her dripping yoni. She was facing away from me, toward Candie. Lo put her right hand down to her crotch and made small circles on her clit while gently rising and lowering, as if riding a horse English style. Candie was clearly performing for Lola and only secondarily for me. She seemed to like what she saw and, judging from how wet Lo was, Lo enjoyed Candie’s performance just as much.
Candie sat on the floor and diddled her own pink parts. Her breasts were small and perky. She was probably Lo’s age or maybe a little younger. She was confident in her performance. I whispered in Lo’s ear, “Where’d you find her?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” said Lo.
“I am older, today!”
“Sit back and enjoy the show.”
I did just that. I was too self-conscious to cum. But Lo wasn’t. Thank goodness the chair was leather and the floor hardwood. Easy clean-up.
When her performance was over, Candie again wished me a happy birthday and thanked Lo. She said, “I haven’t worked in months. This was really helpful. And I thoroughly enjoyed it.”
She got dressed as Lo used paper towels and all-purpose cleaner on the chair and floor.
Candie let herself out, wearing a long leather trench coat like a character out of The Matrix.
“Well, well, well,” I said to Lo. “Do you have any more surprises up your sleeve for me today?”
“You’ll have to take off all my clothes again to find out.”
“All your clothes are off!!!”
“Does it look like I have anything up my sleeve?”
“I imagine you have more creative places to hide my birthday gifts.”
Sound
[This story, in case you don’t pick up on it, is dedicated to the incomparable, Jupiter Grant. You can find her work here, here, here, here, and here.]
“In physics, sound is a vibration that propagates as an acoustic wave, through a transmission medium such as a gas, liquid or solid. In human physiology and psychology, sound is the reception of such waves and their perception by the brain.”
Lola’s Tum
It had been a wet month. The typical English spring attempted to outdo itself with unrelenting grey skies, showers, and sopping English gardens. Jupiter Grant, or Jupi, as she likes to be called by her friends, had not gone out for weeks. Her groceries had been delivered and her supply of wine was dwindling. It had been months since she had seen her ersatz lover, H. She referred to him only as H and thought of him as “ersatz” because he was a Husband to another woman and had a family in London. Jupi was the proverbial “other woman,” the “mistress,” the “seductress.” At least that’s the way the judging world would see her. The judging world being the monogamous, heteronormative world. Between Jupi, H, and H’s wife, there was an open understanding. Still, that cozy relationship was of no use during the long COVID lockdown.
From Jupi’s point of view, she was the guest always late to the party. She and H had chemistry that they both acknowledged. Not just sexual, but spiritual. They knew they were meant to be together, but their paths had crossed many years too late in life. As a compromise to life’s cruel humor, they connected when and how they could; neither one demanding more of the other or disappointed by the other since they both knew that this was the best arrangement for all parties involved. Yet Jupi was not late to the poly-party. Thank goodness, she thought, that she lived in and was a part of the polyamory zeitgeist.
A Happy Fan
Yet the knowledge that they were two lost souls doing what they could to find joy in a largely painful and sad world provided little relief for Jupi when her deepest needs swelled up to fill her entire being with desire – desire to be held, touched, caressed, kissed, fondled, spanked, sucked, filled, and fucked. At those moments, a quick fap merely whet her ferocious appetite. She needed more. She craved the comfort of H’s strong, firm flesh pressing down on her own soft, welcoming, warm body.
Unrelieved in her needs, she turned to compensatory pleasures and perversions. Much of her sexual energy, she found over the years, could be diverted into creative power. Writing erotica was her main outlet. But lately she discovered a new medium into which she channeled her plentiful reserves of poetic and prurient lust and her craving to perform: her voice. Through a series of happy coincidences, she discovered that not only could she narrate literotica, she could nail it with every ounce of sexy she felt swirling through her sensual spirit and her beautiful body.
Volume I
A manuscript had arrived: Match, Cinder & Spark: Nymphomania and the Single Girl. “Hmmmm,” she thought, “this could be interesting. Or, it could be a colossal waste of time. Thousands of words, hundreds of pages of driveling, second-rate, even third-rate pablum ‘poetry’ for pubescent boys.” She poured a glass of red wine and opened up the document on her computer. She began reading:
“Tell me,” she said, “tell me what I am.”
“You’re a slut.”
“Yes,” she said, encouragingly.
“A whore. A fucking sexmaniac.”
“Go on,” she moaned, biting her lower lip. But I was too occupied with banging her from behind. I needed to catch my breath.
“Tell me,” she demanded, “tell me what I am.”
“A cum-bucket. A little cum-hungry tramp.”
“Yes,” she screamed.
“A sex addict. A nymphomaniac!”
I slapped her ass hard as she screamed with delight. Her wet little snatch secreted her luscious, warm juices all over my hard cock.
After she collapsed into the bed of blankets, I reached around her from behind and whispered in her ear, “Good girl. That’s my good girl.” She purred like a little kitten.
Artistic Tribute Photo
She felt a tingling between her legs. She kept reading, taking small sips of wine as she felt her mouth watering. As she continued, she felt something else getting wet. She tried reading the words aloud, just to hear how they would sound in her voice. Could she do the male lines? It was narrated by Lola Down’s lover, H.H. Was she the right voice for that? Wouldn’t a man’s voice be more appropriate? She tried it out, experimenting with various octaves and tones. Clearly these two characters were American. Should I pronounce “ass” the American way, or as I would pronounce it – “arse”? Technical questions like these kept appearing, but she liked what she read. She liked it a lot. To her surprise, she especially enjoyed embodying the male narrator’s role. Yes, she thought, yes, I’ll take this on.
A week later she was in her tiny makeshift “recording studio” – actually a closet with a light, a microphone, and her computer. It was the most soundproof room of her flat. She was in the middle of recording a story, “NYC,” about Lo and her raconteur’s trip to a strip club in Manhattan:
She slowly eased her way down Lo’s body, pressing her perky breasts and nipples directly in Lo’s face. She took Lo’s hands and encouraged Lo to apply them to her body, caressing the dancer’s ass and legs. As she slithered over Lo, she inconspicuously pulled Lo’s strapless dress down over Lo’s breasts, exposing them so that they could rub up against her own. She then got down between Lo’s legs and gracefully pulled the hem of Lo’s dress up and up, rubbing her soft hands over Lo’s thighs and then sitting on Lo’s lap and rubbing her ass deep into Lo’s crotch. All the while, Lo licked her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth in that sumptuous way that indicates that Lo is hungry.
Jupi found herself breathless. She couldn’t continue with the narration. There in the narrow confines of the darkened closet, she reached down under her skirt and panties and her fingers fondled the fount of her effulgent creativity. She read the lines again and again in her mind and switched roles in her mind from being Lo to being the stripper to being H.H. observing it all. The dance of subjectivity stimulated her mind as much as her digits released her pent-up puissance by penetrating her pulsating pink pussy.
Browsing the Literotica section
Wave after wave of relief and gratitude poured over her as her legs gave out and she slowly crumpled onto the now wet wooden floor of the closet, panting and heaving. She opened the door to let in more air. She desperately needed more air.
Eventually, she was able to finish recording the story. She liked it so much that she wanted to share it, prematurely, with someone. No, not with someone. Not with anyone. With H. She needed to know his opinion of it. Was it any good? Was she any good as a narrator? But there were so many doubts that accompanied her wish. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought she was weird for even producing it? What if he was turned on by Lola?
Ultimately her desire for validation and attention outweighed her insecurities and she hit “SEND” and immediately wished she could unsend it.
An excruciating day, then two days, then three days went by without a word from H. She couldn’t record another page before hearing back from him. She was in a frenzied state. Why hadn’t he called, texted, emailed, something???
But, just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, there was an unexpected knock at her door.
A visitor? No. Couldn’t be. Probably just a grocery delivery. She hastily put on her robe and furtively opened the door. There he was. H. Unannounced. Unexpected. Un-fuckig-believable! She was ecstatic. Jupi threw the door open wide and let him in. But then she remembered the recording. Was he here to break things off?
“Hi,” she said shyly, her nerves shot.
“Hi.”
“I wish I knew you were coming. I would have. . .”
“I didn’t even know I was coming. But I’ve been. . . I’ve wanted to. . . I just started driving and I found myself here. I’ve been listening to your recording on repeat.”
“And?”
“Your voice is so fucking sexy.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve been hard-up for days.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to. But I wanted to see you and tell you.”
“Way to drive a woman crazy!”
“Who wrote this? Who is this Lola?”
Suddenly Jupi felt nervous again. She felt butterflies in her stomach. “What if?” questions started forming in her mind like they did before. Incessant, annoying, pervasive questions filled with self-doubt and fear. Her anxiety ramping up again. She needed to get grounded.
“Come on in,” she said, taking his coat. “Want a drink?”
She took out the wine and two glasses. She let her robe drop, revealing her bare body just beneath the sheer negligée she was wearing under the robe. It was sexy, but it was also comfy. He looked at her, soaking in her visage. She was a shy hermit full of inner life – sensual, spontaneous, artistic, creative, smart, witty, emotional, and most of all, madly in love with him. Seeing her filled him with passion, just as the sound of her voice speaking those salacious sentences had made him crazed for three days. Her flesh. He wanted it.
She sat down next to him at the small kitchen table and opened her laptop. She clicked on mysexlifewithlola.com and scrolled through the plethora of Lola’s porno pictures.
“Oh. . . oh. . . my,” he said slowly with long pauses in between exclamations. “Um, wow!” Images of Lola naked were replete on the screen. But not just naked – naked with her 12 inch dildo, with her princess plug, with pearls on a string streaming from her ass, with her man, H.H., sucking his cock, filled with his cum, overflowing with the cum of other men, and stretching herself wide with one of the largest replicas of a horse cock H had ever seen!
“Yeah, she’s a handful,” said Jupi, resigned to sharing H’s attention with Lola.
“She reminds me of you,” he said, looking up at her downcast eyes.
“What? Really?”
“Yes, if I had met you ten years ago. I think she’s the spitting image of you.”
“Ten years ago?” Jupi echoed.
“Oh, no. Come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You sure you don’t want some young sexy thing like Lo?”
“No, Jupi, I want you.” He leaned in to kiss her. Her stomach’s butterflies flew in a flutter, suddenly startled by the unexpected availability of his lips and everything else he brought to the table.
“I was just about to record another chapter.”
“Really? Can I listen?”
“I don’t think you’ll hear much. I record it in the closet,” she said.
“Which closet?”
“In the bedroom.”
“Oh. Well, go right ahead. I’ll just be lying on the bed. Maybe I’ll hear something.”
They got up to go to the bedroom. She took the computer and disappeared into the walk-in studio. “Wait here quietly,” she said before shutting the door behind her.
She was just finishing up the story, “Horsing Around.” She read loud enough for H to hear:
I was in jeans and I could feel my cunt getting totally saturated, soaking my panties through and through. I spread my legs and rubbed his cock back and forth until finally he exploded. It was a ginormous shot of cum over my head, but, as his cock slackened, he dripped some remaining cum down into my hair and on my face. I had to unbutton my jeans and pull them and my panties down as I got on my knees. As I sat under his dangling cock, I stroked my pussy till I too came in a giant puddle on the cement floor.
When Jupi was done with the story, she emerged from the closet. She found H lying on his back, his trousers down around his ankles, his massive hard-on clenched in his right fist which stroked up and down from tip-to-base and back again.
“Could you hear?” she asked, astonished.
“MmmmmmGrrrrrrrrrAaaaaahhhhhhh,” was all he could say as his member erupted like a spewing volcano sending its warm lava all over the surrounding countryside and dribbling down its sheer cliffs, covering his hand in goo. “Fuuuuck!”
“Did I do that?” asked Jupi innocently.
“You have the most sexy voice,” he answered.
Though flattered by his visceral standing ovation, Jupi was at least slightly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get any of her man’s patronage that day. Never one to miss an opportunity, she got between his legs and licked up the mess he had made.
“Can I get an advance copy of that audiobook?” he asked.
Jupi smiled, looking up at H from between his legs. “Of course,” she said.
After he left, she sent the audio files to him via email.
A few days later he texted her and said, “Jupi, you have no idea how happy you have made me. I know that we can’t see each other, but I’ve been listening to your recording in the car every chance I get. It’s incredible.”
“Glad you like it.”
“I’ve even started listening to it in bed. I told my wife that it’s just a guided meditation to help me sleep, but, in fact, it has the opposite effect. After she falls asleep, I pull out my cock and stroke to your voice.”
A week later he was at Jupi’s flat again. This time they had an actual date planned. After a small meal, they went into the bedroom and, lying down on the bed, he asked, “Can we, uh, listen to the audiobook?”
“But I’m right here,” Jupi replied.
“I know, but it turns me on.”
She agreed.
He had another request. “Can I have you doggy style?”
“Yes.”
“And. . .”
“And what?”
“Never mind,” he said as she got on all fours on the bed and he stood next to it, ready to enter her from behind.
“What?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Can I put your laptop here?”
“Really?”
“I mean, I won’t if you. . .”
“No, go ahead.”
He placed the computer on her back, opened it up to Lola’s photos, and, listening to Jupi’s narration, entered her wet and waiting pussy.
Not Jupi, but a fan photo
Lo picked up her head and said, “Stroke it again as I rub my pussy.” Lo leaned back across from Bill in the back seat and spread her legs wide. Her right leg was lying on top of Bill’s knee. She still had her cute little heels on. Bill stroked his cock as he looked on, salivating, at Lo’s spread pussy. With her left hand, Lo spread her pussy lips wide and with her right hand she was fingering her clit and her cunt.
Bill was treated to a feast for the eyes. Lo came and came again to her own digital manipulation. She so love’s to see men jerk off, but the only thing she loves more than that is to see them jerking off to her. This Bill did with enthusiasm and then he started asking Lo, “I bet you want me to cum on your pussy, don’t you, you whore?”
“Oh yeah,” responded Lo in her low, deep, sexy, guttural voice.
“You want me to shoot my load all over that hot pussy, don’t you?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, do it,” she said in response as she continued to spread her legs and finger-fuck her pussy.
He got up from the seat and almost stood over her, frantically yanking at his cock.
“Come on, come on,” Lo encouraged, “cum on my pussy. Come on.” And then finally, in an explosion of cum that fell like rain all over Lo and her dress and her stomach and her pussy, he came and came and came and came some more. Lo was shocked by how much he came on her. She had never been drenched that much by a guy in her life. . . and she loved it.
As they listened to the story, they too came together. . . and loved it.
Lying next to each other, sprawled out on the mess of a bed, the computer screen still displaying Lo’s cum-covered body, H said, “You know, my wife has been listening to the stories as well.”
Lo Bathes in Beauty
“No,” Jupi said incredulously.
“Yes. She found me out. She discovered it wasn’t a ‘guided meditation.’ And so now, whenever she’s in the mood, she puts in her earbuds and listens with her computer open in front of her, while I go at her.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Jupi.
“I’m sorry. Does that upset you? I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“No, I can’t believe that little trollop.”
“Who?”
“You know who: Lola Down. She’ll be getting off all of London before long.”
“No, dear, you’ll be getting them off with your voice.”
Thank you Lola. Thank you Jupiter Grant. Thank you H. Thank you everyone who reads, listens, and gets off to these words dripping with love and lust, jizz and juices. Thank you.
The End
Very Thankful
mysexlifewithlola.com
It was Thanksgiving weekend and we had been invited to a family-friend’s house in Miami for the occasion. Our host’s apartment was in one of the tall high-rise buildings downtown and was not nearly large enough to accommodate all the guests overnight, so Lo and I got a hotel room close by. Being from up north, it took a lot of getting used to Thanksgiving without the brilliant foliage hues of warm oranges, deep reds, and brilliant yellows. Rather, seeing palm trees, blue skies, and beaches made this weekend feel like any other vacation weekend.
We had arrived on Wednesday, the most highly traveled day of the year in America, but despite my travel anxiety, the trip went off without a hitch. We got settled in our hotel early that day and then made our way down to Miami Beach where Lo slipped into her skimpy little bikini and we quickly made the transition from trudging through ankle high snow to gliding through soft golden sand and refreshing surf. My staying out of Lo’s crosshairs was next to impossible on this beach because no matter where I turned there was another scantily clad sexy woman walking, lying in the sun, swimming, playing volleyball, or applying sunscreen. Each time I looked up, I was in trouble with her.
Finally I said to her, “What do you want me to do, put blinders on?”
To my great surprise she smiled and said, “I’m just kidding. Look all you want. Go on the BP.” BP is our code word for “Butt Patrol.”
“What? Wait. Say that again. I think I have an inner ear infection. I thought you said, ‘Look all you want.’”
“That’s what I said. You’re not hearing things. There are too many beautiful women on this beach for me to be jealous of all of them.”
Well, this was certainly a change. At first it was a welcome change, but within mere moments of it setting in I became very disconcerted. Does this mean she doesn’t love me anymore? Has she lost interest? Is she less invested in me, my feelings, my love? A mini-crisis of faith descended over me and suddenly I lost all interest in any of the scenery.
We walked a little further in silence and then she added, “Also, I just feel fat.”
“Fat?!” I cried out. “Lo, you’re beautiful! Perfect! A goddess! A zaftig, sexy, siren.”
“Zaftig means fat,” she said flatly.
“No. Zaftig means pleasantly plump and juicy. You know that. That’s exactly what you are, you little squirt.”
Zaftig Lola
“Wouldn’t you prefer her or her or her?” she asked, pointing at different stick-skinny-blondes on the beach.
“If I did, I would be with her, her, or her.”
“Then why don’t you go with them?”
“Now you’re just fishing for more compliments.”
“No,” she said, “I’m serious.”
“Because I love you. I want you. I find you attractive. And so do a lot of other people, I might add.”
Her hand reached out to hold mine and we walked a little further, but the sun was beating down and it was soon far too hot to be out there in the direct light of noon.
We headed toward Ocean Boulevard and I thought we were looking for a cool – literally cool – place to have lunch, but Lo, of course, had other ideas. We had passed a strip club on the way to the beach and apparently she took mental note. She directed us right there and we ducked in to get out of the heat and into the steamy striptease. But, little did we know, Miami isn’t like New York or D.C. where they have performances all day, all night. No one was dancing. It was just another dive bar.
The bearded bartender asked what we’d have and Lo said, “I came here to have a show. Where are the dancers?”
“Oh, they don’t come on until eight or nine,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Fine, then make me a margarita and make it strong,” she demanded, visibly disappointed.
“I’ll have a piña colada” I said.
Lo was sitting with her elbows on the bar, her biceps boosting up her boobs in her bikini top. The bartender obviously enjoyed the view. He made conversation with her, almost ignoring me.
“Sorry the ladies aren’t on now,” he said. “But I know a few who’d like to put on a show for you,” he added. “And I’d like to see that.”
He asked us where we were from and so forth. Lo was flirting with him and rubbing my leg with her foot, but he couldn’t see that. Did she want him?
We each had our drink, cooled down and then, when we asked for the tab, the bartender said it was on the house. Lo smiled flirtatiously and I put down a healthy cash tip.
“What now?” I asked Lo, to see where her whims would take her.
“Let’s just fuck,” she said.
We went straight back to the hotel and Lo stripped out of what little she was wearing.
She looked pleasantly plump and juicy and I told her so.
“Show me how bad you want me,” she said.
I pulled down my bathing suit and revealed my incredibly rigid cock pointing right at her.
“Mmmmmm, good,” she replied, lying back on the bed.
I climbed on the bed and lifted her legs in the air. She had crossed her legs doing a little stripper move and I entered her as I held her up by her ankles. She moaned. Then I took her beautiful, soft feet, one in each hand, and gently rubbed her soles on my cheeks as I looked down at her, fondling her nipples. She held my head between her feet and I grabbed her hips.
“I want to fuck your round rump,” I said. I slid my hands up the side of her body to her tum and grabbed a handful of her flesh. I held her by her doughy roll and I loved it. “You know,” I said, “I find this part of you even more sexy than your tits.”
“Now you’re just making me feel self-conscious and fat,” she said.
“I love it,” I said to her.
“I don’t,” she said to me.
“Turn over,” I instructed. She complied.
I began going at her from behind as I smacked her lovely ass cheeks with my hands. She backed into me, ramming my pole deep into her. I could feel her intensity growing. And then she said, “Do you like my ass, Daddy?”
“Love it.”
“Do you like my fat ass?”
She was trying to get me to cum.
“Yes.”
“You like your fat little girl?” she asked seductively.
“I love my fat little girl.”
“Don’t you want to cum all over my fat, fat ass?” she asked and hearing her say that was enough. I gave her one last thrust before pulling out, and grabbing my cock and ejaculating all over her ass and back, shooting occasionally all the way up to her shoulder blades. Simultaneously, she began to squirt down on the bed.
“Pleasantly plump. Very juicy,” I said.
I removed the covers from the bed. We didn’t need them anyway. It was warm enough without them. After I cleaned us both up, we snuggled – big spoon/little spoon. My hands were around her and I was holding her breast with one hand and her tum with the other. But then I felt a warm liquid all over my lap.
“Did you just squirt again?” I asked her.
“Yes, Daddy,” she said simply before falling to sleep.
Sometime later, we both woke from our nap. What had been a blindingly hot day, was now slowly slipping into a cool dusk. I got up and took a shower. Lo was still in bed. Then I sat at the little desk of the hotel room and took out my computer. I was preparing to post on the blog. Lo was watching TV.
“What are you watching?” I asked.
“The New Girl.”
“The Nude Girl?”
“No, The New Girl.”
“Oh, cause I was watching The Nude Girl,” I said.
“Who?” she asked, jealously.
“You,” I said, showing her the pics of her on my computer screen.
“Oh, well, you don’t have to look only at the pics, you can have the real thing,” she said, spreading her legs and rubbing her puss.
“Lo,” I said, “Are you getting horny watching TV again?”
“When don’t I? Besides, Zooey Deschanel is such a MPDG.”
Zooey Deschanel
“A what?”
“You know, a Manic Pixie Dream Girl.”
“No. I don’t know. Explain.”
“A Manic Pixie Dream Girl is. . .” she was looking for the right words, “is Zooey Deschanel’s character on this show.”
Lola
“And what’s that?” I asked, not being familiar with the show, this Zooey woman, or the expression.
There are these three guys on the show. They’re sad, they’re lonely, they’re single. They’re roommates. And then comes along Jess who moves in with them. She’s bubbly. She’s cheerful. She’s good-girl-American-girl-cute. And she’s just what they need. And they all want to fuck her, secretly or not so secretly. That’s what an MPDG is.”
“Oh, so in addition to a MILF you also yearn to be an MPDG.”
“Oh no,” said Lo, “I’m both.”
“Is that possible?”
“Not for most women, but I can pull it off.”
“Yeah, you pull it off alright – you pull off your sweater and your bra and suddenly you’re every man’s dream.”
“Watch it!” she warned. “I still remember how you called me fat.”
“Me?” I cried. “You’re the one who. . .”
“Don’t even,” she said. “You’ll piss me off and then you’ll have to butter me up.”
“OK,” I said, “If you lie naked, I’ll get a stick of butter.”
She threw a pillow at me and said, “As fun as that sounds – treating me like a butterball turkey – I want to go out on the town tonight.”
“Yeah, tonight and every other night.”
“It’s not every night that we are in Miami,” she said, getting out of bed.
“Where do you want to go? Another strip club?”
“No no,” she said. “I’ve got a few places in mind.”
“A few places?!” It was a good thing I got that long nap in, because usually I am not able to keep up with Lo’s nights out.
She slipped into her bathing suit and, because it was still too early for the club scene, we went up to the hotel’s rooftop pool. We got a couple of lounge chairs by the side that overlooks Ocean Blvd. and the beach, but we sat facing west to see the sunset.
An older couple sat next to us and the woman removed everything except her bikini bottom. She looked at me as her obviously surgically enhanced breasts ballooned almost into my face. “Is she trying to seduce me?” I thought and I saw Lo look sidelong at us both.
Lo and I got in the pool and I swam up to her and whispered, “Lo, that totally was not my fault. She sat down next to me. She was trying to impress me. I didn’t know what to do, so I just smiled politely.”
“It’s ok,” laughed Lo at all my excuses. “I know. Besides, she’s got nothing on me,” she said, removing her own bikini top and putting it on the side of the pool. She and I swam in the pool together as if we were one monstrous fish with four appendages. I loved being next to her bare torso in the pool with others looking on from the patio. Then she got out like a goddess and sat in the lounge chair and I went to the bar to order us drinks. I watched admiringly as others were staring at my little nymph.
I brought her drinks and we enjoyed an indescribably colorful sunset. I felt as if everything was perfect.
As the pool area emptied out, we went back to the hotel room. After Lo showered and slipped on a sexy dress and slid into some very sexy heels, we were out and about at one of the city’s dance clubs. I am no dancer, but I love watching Lo dance. I ordered my drink at the bar and watched as she danced and flirted with the city’s diverse beauties. I really think that Miami is perhaps the best looking city in the US.
As I sat and soaked in Lo’s form under the twirling lights, I thought of the Don Henley song, “All She Wants To Do Is Dance.” Yep, that’s Lo. All she wants to do is dance. . . and fuck. And this night it looked like she was doing both out on the dancefloor.
Around two in the morning, she finally came back to me, all sweaty, and said she was ready to go because even though she was having a great time, her feet were killing her.
On our way to the hotel in the back of the Lyft, she pulled out her phone and was looking at something that made her excited. She already had her shoes off, but as she looked at her phone, she put her bare foot on my lap and said, “Massage it, Daddy.” She lifted up her other foot and asked me to do the same to that one while her dress revealed her commando crotch. She used her feet to flirt with my manhood as the driver made small talk, but I could tell that she was way too intoxicated to know what she was doing. When we got to the hotel, as we were crossing the quiet lobby, she said to me, “Come to the bedroom and fuck me.”
“Lola, I’ll come to the bedroom, but I’m going to sleep. It’s a quarter-to-three in the morning.”
“No it’s not. It’s sex-o’clock. Time for me to cum in the bedroom.”
“In that case, I’m not going to the bedroom. I’ll stay right here on the couch in the lobby.”
“I can cum on the couch just as easily as in the bedroom. Even easier, because here I have an audience.”
Realizing the futility of my rebuke, I made sure she got to the hotel room without falling.
I went right to sleep, but at some ungodly hour I woke to find Lo on her phone travelling down dark electronic alleyways at night.
When I awoke in the morning, a flashback of the evening crossed my mind. Lo was sound asleep, naked, next to me. I grabbed her phone and scrolled through her history. Just as I suspected, a number of photos and messages from her Tumblr fans. Naughty, dirty, taboo, fetish, and wildly NSFW messages and photos. Good thing we were on vacation and so were most other people for Thanksgiving. I’ve noticed that around holidays, Lo’s fans really step up. Loneliness sets in, I suppose, and they reach out. Lo, ever gracious, always compliments their dick pics and entertains their most depraved fantasies about her. Every once in a while she draws the line with them, if they disrespect her or disrespect women in general. Though she is into BDSM, she still wants to be worshipped as a goddess. It’s a fine line, but make no mistake, there is a line.
Lo’s Call for Tributes
I read a number of conversations that made me laugh. For instance, in response to one fan who asked, “What’s up?” Lo responded, “If you’re looking at my photos, then your cock.”
To another guy who sent a pic of himself jacking off to her photos, she said, “Looks like you’ve got things well in hand.”
Satisfied that her nocturnal communications were nothing but the innocent fapping fun of a nymphomaniac, I put her phone down and made myself a coffee.
Lo woke, groggy. She went to the bathroom and was in there for a while.
I had sat down to begin writing. I had my warm cup of coffee to my left and my notes to my right and I was gazing off to the middle distance contemplating the first line of the story when I heard, “Darling, can you come here? I need your opinion on something.”
I muttered under my breath, “She’s going to ask me how she looks in something and I will tell her and she’ll disregard my opinion and do whatever the hell she wants to do anyway. I don’t know why she claims she needs my opinion.” But I called back to her, “Yes dear,” as I got up from my comfortable writing perch and went to the bathroom.
In the bathroom I found her in a skimpy bikini.
“How do you like this top with these bottoms?” she asked.
“Nice.”
“Am I too fat?”
“Define what ‘too fat’ is.”
“Am I fat?”
“Honest answer?”
“Yes. No. Yes,” she said, confused.
“You’re just right.”
“But do I look fat in this?”
“Darling, you look perfect in it.”
“Is the bottom too cheeky?” she asked as she turned around and jutted her butt out.
“No. This would be too cheeky,” I said as I pulled the sides of the bikini bottom together to reveal most of her ass, followed by a spank.
“Mmmm, I like that,” she said.
“Me too. You’re welcome,” I responded as I began to return to my writing.
“Watit!” she demanded, “I’m not done,” she said as she removed her bikini top and grabbed another one. She put on the second top. “What do you think of this?”
“I think it’s too big.”
“Too big?”
“Yeah, it covers too much of your tits.”
“Well I like it,” she said.
“I don’t know why you say you want my opinion on things when you never act on it.”
“Fifty something years and you don’t know by now that when a woman asks your opinion on how she looks, what she wants to hear is a compliment?”
“No,” I said. “It only took fifteen seconds for you to tell me that. Now I know. Thank you. And, by the way, you look great in that.”
“I look even better out of it. Take me to the right beach and you’ll see just how good I can look out of it.”
It was an enticing prospect, but today was Thanksgiving and we had to be at our family-friend’s house by two for the big meal. That left little time for an excursion to a nude beach.
We were both hungry and we ordered breakfast to our room.
Room service arrived and Lo answered in her skimpy bikini bottoms, no top. She even bent over to rummage through her bag for a tip to give him. My guess was that her little show was all the tip he needed.
After he left, Lo began to pout. She had ordered a bagel with cream cheese. “The bagel’s not toasty enough and the cream cheese doesn’t spread.”
“You know what I like about you? You tell it like it is. There’s no beating around the bush with you.”
“I don’t have any bush to beat,” she said, pulling back her bikini bottom and showing her shaved triangle.
“That is true.”
“But you can beat my puss.”
I was only wearing my cut-off sweatpants-shorts and a T-shirt. As Lo sat in her chair, fondling herself, I grew noticeably hard in my shorts.
“Why do you resist, Daddy?” she asked. “I can see you want me.”
“I do, but. . .” Before I could finish the sentence, she put her legs up in the air. One on the desk and the other on the bed, and she really went at it.
“Jerk off for me,” she commanded.
“Do you want me to fuck you or do you want me to jerk off?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
I pulled at my cock, hoping that I’d be getting some of her puss. She teased me by pulling her pussy lips, by pulling her bikini bottoms into a micro-bikini with her pussy lips spilling over the thin thong. “Should I go onto the beach like this, Daddy?” she asked.
That was too much for me. I exploded in my shorts.
HH cums
“Nooooooo,” she called, seeing her hopes and dreams splattered all over my crotch.
“Sorry, Lo,” I said meekly.
“Damn it!” she said. “First breakfast was a disappointment, now dessert.”
“You’ll just have to take matters into your own hands,” I said.
No sooner had I said it than she swung around in the chair and opened the laptop computer to look at her Tumblr.
“Were you fooling around with my Tumblr account?” she asked me.
“No,” I said as I was cleaning myself off. “Why?”
There was no answer.
“Are you looking at all the messages from last night, er, earlier this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, that was all you,” I said. “Don’t you remember?”
“I do now,” she said. I couldn’t tell if she was just trying to make like she hadn’t had that much to drink or if she was being honest. In either case, she began laughing. “I’m pretty funny,” she said as she masturbated to the photos she saw.
She got up and went on the bed where she shut her eyes and plunged her puss with her fist.
When she was good and done, I asked her what she was thinking about.
“Nothing,” she said.
“Nothing? Really? You just came like a howling wildebeest to the thought of nothing?”
“I’m very Zen.”
“Lo,” I said, unamused.
“Well. . .”
“Out with it.”
“I was thinking of the woman from the pool yesterday.”
“Mrs. Silicon?”
“Yeah. But in my mind. . . . No I shouldn’t say it.”
“Say what?”
“If I say it, you might get the wrong idea. You might think that I want it and I definitely don’t want it.”
“Want what?”
“In my mind she was young, blonde, and natural. She was coming onto you, making me jealous. You took her down to our hotel room. I followed and then the soundtrack started playing, ‘Girl Crush.’”
“What?”
“You know, the song ‘Girl Crush,’ by Little Big Town,” she said as she put the video on.
I gotta girl crush, hate to admit it but
I gotta heart rush, ain’t slowin’ down
I got it real bad, want everything she has
That smile and that midnight laugh she’s giving you now
I wanna taste her lips, yeah, ʼcause they taste like you
I wanna drown myself in a bottle of her perfume
I want her long blonde hair, I want her magic touch
Yeah, ʼcause maybe then you’d want me just as much
I gotta girl crush, I gotta girl crush
I don’t get no sleep, I don’t get no peace
Thinkin’ about her under your bed sheets
The way that she’s whisperin’, the way that she’s pullin’ you in
Lord knows I’ve tried, I can’t get her off my mind
“I see,” I said after hearing the song. “We could make that happen.”
She threw a pillow at me.
After she got dressed, I asked her what it was she wanted to do in the few hours we had before we were expected for the Thanksgiving meal.
“I didn’t tell you?”
“No, no you didn’t. What?”
“We’re going fishing!” she said all excited.
“We’re doing what?”
“Well, boating or fishing or skinny-dipping. Whatever we want, but my friend has a boat and. . .”
“You’re friend? Who the hell do you know down here in Miami?”
“Darling, I have friends all over the world.”
“Tumblr friends?”
“When you’ve got assets like these,” she said, showing off her butt, “everyone wants to be your friend.”
“Good grief!”
“Anyhow, this friend of mine, or ours. . .”
“Ours?! I don’t even know him!”
“Whatever. That doesn’t matter. He knows you very well by now. He’s got a boat and he promised to take us out for a little trip today!”
Soon we were at the marina and, after a few wrong turns, we finally found the boat and Lo’s ‘friend.’ His name was Alan and he seemed nice enough. He was tall and lanky, he had some scruff on his face like he hadn’t shaved in three days. He was tan and looked like he spent his days in the Florida sun. I’d guess he was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight. He had a small motorboat and we got aboard and Lo stripped down to her sexy bikini while Alan steered and made small talk with me. Turns out, I was right about how he spent his days. He worked at the marina part-time and as a waiter the rest of the time.
Lo and I had a few beers and we had a great view of the city from off the coast. The sun, the gentle rocking of the boat, and the beer made me drowsy and I almost nodded off. But we stopped the boat and we all decided to strip down to our birthday suits and take a refreshing dip. Lo, who used to be on the swim team in high school, made an elegant dive into the deep blue sea. I followed and then Alan. I might add here that Alan’s schlong was quite long and I could see Lo looking up from where she was treading water, lusting after him as he pealed out of his tight shorts. When I was next to her, I said, “Lo, you sure are a good Catholic.”
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“As Jesus said, ‘Be fishers of men, not of fish.’ Looks like you landed a real big one.”
“Oh Daddy. Do you think I didn’t know before how big he is?”
“I should have known.”
Then Alan jumped in. The water was refreshing and it was liberating to be so far out, swimming the way God made us. Lo was swam right up next to Alan. “I’m getting tired of treading water,” she said quite falsely. “Will you hold me a while?”
Alan gladly wrapped his arms around her torso and allowed his left hand to rest on her breast. I watched from a slight distance. I could see Lo gently guide his right hand down to her puss. He was clearly rubbing her clit and soon she was cumming. She loves to cum in the ocean.
After she came, she turned around, wrapping her legs around Alan’s hips, and she held onto him like an aquatic marsupial. They began to make out, but it was awkward because, try as he might, Alan couldn’t keep both of them afloat while simultaneously trying to have intercourse with Lo.
Soon we climbed up the boat’s ladder, Lo first, of course, followed right after by Alan, and I brought up the rear. We were all sitting in the boat, catching our breath and enjoying the invigorating breeze and sunlight for a while. Then Lo went to the front to tan naked. Alan and I put on our shorts and Alan began to drive the boat back towards the marina. We passed a few other boats that waived and blew their horns at the sight of Lo.
About halfway back, Lo got up, grabbed another beer, and then asked Alan if he needed anything. The way she said it, I knew exactly what she meant. Alan said, “No, I’m good.”
But Lo got down on her knees, beer in one hand, and took his cock in her other hand and began stroking it over his shorts.
She looked up at him and said, “You sure?”
He looked down at her and said, “Well. . .” and that was enough for Lo to pull out his cock and take the whole, long pole deep in the back of her throat. She sucked on it and then periodically took a sip of her cold beer. Apparently the contrast between warm and cool was very pleasant for Alan and soon his froth was mixing with the head of the beer in Lo’s mouth. She seemed gratified and proud of her accomplishment.
Alan zipped up and Lo put her bikini back on just before we were within sight of the folks on the dock.
We parked the boat and Lo and I said our goodbyes, apologizing for having to leave so early, but we did have a Thanksgiving dinner to attend.
As we were walking away, Lo, holding my hand, asked me, “Daddy, why didn’t you fuck me on the boat?”
“I enjoyed the show,” I said.
“But didn’t you want me?” she asked.
“I did, but honestly, with the beer, the sun, and after the swimming, I was completely exhausted.”
She rolled her eyes and replied, “You put the ‘old’ in ‘cuckold.’”
We were on our way back to our hotel when, along the way, we found a cozy little bar called “The Village Pump.”
Lola stopped to look in for a moment. “Isn’t that what they called you in high school?” I asked, making a Lola joke.
“I’m rubbing off on you,” she said sardonically, followed by, “Hmmm, that sounds like fun!”
She grabbed my hand to pull me inside. “But Lo,” I protested, “we have to get ready for Thanksgiving!”
“This place is so cute and the back patio spills out right onto the beach,” she protested. “Just one drink. I just want to experience it.”
“Fine,” I conceded as we walked in, to Lo’s delight.
We popped in, each ordered a drink, and we found our way to the beachfront seating in the way back of the bar. Lo looked lovely in her sun hat and her bare feet. She teased and tempted me as we sat there, suggesting all sorts of fun frolics with her feet and licks with her lips. We downed our drinks, paid the tab and then were off to get ready for the Thanksgiving meal.
Back at the hotel, we changed into our casual-formal attire. In Miami everything is casual. We had to change quickly because due to Lo’s epicurean exploits, we were running behind schedule. We got to our friends’ apartment fashionably late, but people were still having cocktails and eating some light hors-d’oeuvres. Lo took a flute of champagne and quenched her thirst with it and then she grabbed me by the hand to pull me aside.
“Follow me,” she said, as she took me to the master bathroom.
Before I even had time to ask her “What?” she was bent over the marble sink in front of the large mirror. “Mount me,” she instructed. She slipped out of her red dress and pulled her tits out of her red bra. I looked at the two of us in the mirror and penetrated her as she wished.
“What’s this all about?” I asked in a whisper.
A Quick Fuck Before the Thanksgiving Meal
“Shut up and fuck me,” she said as she pulled out her phone. She put it on the counter and turned it on. Over her shoulder I could see that she had just got an influx of pics from fans jackin’ it to her divine image. Apparently, they excited her. As she was scrolling through her happy holidays messages, I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick shot of the action – a sexy selfie of us mid-coitus. She came. I didn’t. I was a bit too distracted. But then, just as I was pulling out of her tight, wet slit, the clenching of her cunt on my cock was the little added stimulation I needed to put me over the edge. I came, unexpectedly, all over her ass like icing on a cake.
Hastily, I cleaned her up and then she pulled up her panties and pulled down her skirt.
We hadn’t yet had the Thanksgiving meal, but I knew what I was thankful for.
Lo smiled mischievously as we mingled with the guests. She was happy. I was happy. And our merry-making in Miami was brought to a very satisfying conclusion.
Performance Art
I get in bed. I think Lo’s asleep, but she isn’t. She unbuttons my pj bottoms and pulls out my cock and grips it tightly with one hand. Her other hand is between her legs. She begins stroking my rod up and down. She spreads her legs and moans. I begin to maneuver myself over her body in order to penetrate her, but she says, “No, Daddy.”
“No?”
“No. Just lie on your back.”
“But, don’t you want me?”
“I want dick. I want to hold it. Just stay just like that,” she says. I give in to her request to lie on my back as she grasps my member with her left hand while stroking herself with her right. Her eyes remain closed. Her breathing accelerates. Her breasts heave. After ten minutes or so, she begins convulsing. She lets go of my phallus and grabs the sheets beneath her with her left hand as her right hand is plunging in-and-out of her gushing pussy. She moans, screams, and cums in waves.
After she has a moment to catch her breath, I ask her, “What were you imagining?”
“It’s bad, Daddy.”
“I like bad.”
“I was envisioning us,” she says enigmatically.
“Us how?”
“I imagined that we were going to the Erotica convention and that we were headlining for a reading of Match, Cinder & Spark. It was at a dingy theater in a foreign town. Up on the marquee it read, in big red letters, ‘LOLA DOWN READS XXX.’ We were backstage. I had you peek out from the wings at the audience. It was slowly growing in number – men and women. Finally, about five minutes after the show was supposed to start, the host or MC for the evening took the stage and announced the rules, ‘No photography! No recording! Yes, masturbating, as long as you don’t make a mess of the seats. Please turn off your cell phones and give a warm, wet welcome for Lola Down and H.H.!’ The place erupted with applause. You and I walked out onto the stage. There was only a rectangular table and two chairs. On the rectangular table was a microphone and a tall glass of water and a pitcher of water. We bowed and sat in the chairs. I opened Match to one of my favorite passages and began reading. I was wearing only a sexy red dress with strappy heels. No panties. No bra. I began with my legs crossed. I continued reading and I uncrossed my legs. I gave the audience a quick flash of my puss. I continued reading. I spread my legs again. I dropped one hand down to my crotch and began masturbating. With the other hand, I held yours. I paused for a moment. I took a sip of water and looked out into the audience and said in a breathy voice, ‘It’s getting hot in here.’ You lovingly pulled the shoulder straps of my dress off of my shoulders and I pulled my arms through them. I continued reading. You slowly pulled down my red dress to reveal my breasts. I continued touching my puss as I wiggled and wriggled out of the dress until it lay on the floor at my feet. Finally I was naked and I continued reading the passage but, at a certain part I stopped. I was beginning to climax. You took over. At the sound of your voice I came and I came hard – screaming and squirting. You finally finished the passage. You invited people up to the stage to have their copies of Match signed by the two of us. As each person came up, they stopped before me with the book open to the page they wanted signed. Usually it’s opened to a full color picture of me doing something naughty. Some of the men asked if they can masturbate to me. ‘Now?’ I asked. ‘Yes,’ they said, politely. I agreed. They pulled out their cocks and they began jackin’ it over me as I sat naked in the chair. You sat and watched. They came. They came on my body, on my face, in my mouth, in my hair, everywhere until I was cum-covered. After everyone got what they wanted, you took me backstage. There, some women who were part of the convention were waiting and they got clothes and a bucket of warm water and they cleaned me off. ‘Was I good, Daddy?’ I asked you as they were tending to me. ‘You were wonderful,’ you said.”
Cliterotica
[In honor of all our friends, such as Cara, Hy, Catherine, and of course, Michael & Molly, who are attending Eroticon this weekend, a little fantasy of what we envision our attending it to be like. Hopefully next year.]
“LOLA” – her name lit up the marquee. As we approached the theater from the street, slick from the recent rain, Lo looked up and said, “Big, bright, beautiful, and inviting. That’s me alright!”
We were in England for the annual Literotica convention and somehow we were the headline event for this evening’s performances. Lo was giddy with excitement.
Entering the theater from the side door for performers, there was a flurry of activity backstage. Everyone was primping and preparing. Lo, herself, had tried on three different outfits and five different pairs of shoes before settling on the glittery gold sequin top, the slinky green skirt, and the flashy four-inch heels. “Green and gold,” I said, “the colors of money.”
We were there to do a reading and book signing, but Lo had plans for oh so much more than that. Her Marina Abramovic performance-art streak was activated and she had conspired with me to put on a show. We were to be a Penn & Teller style duet. She’d be Penn, the showman, and I’d be Teller, the silent sidekick. She had her props: a little wooden lectern on which she put the book, some paints, paint brushes, markers, and a sign. The sign read:
Match, Vol. I – $35
Match, Vol. II – $20
Match, Vol. III – $20
Complementary with your purchase:
Squeeze
Tease
Pull
Paint
Draw
Write
Kiss
Suck
Cum
NOT ALLOWED:
Penetration of any sort
Photos
(Mild BDSM is ok)
All prices USD
After the opening acts, we were introduced to a loud round of applause. I got butterflies in my stomach and I’m sure Lo did as well. We took our places on the otherwise empty wooden stage under the hot spotlights. I stood next to Lo at the lectern with three stacks of books and my portable credit card swipe device plugged into my phone.
Lo opened the books to the places she had specially chosen for this event and read some select passages: The preface to Vol I, penned by her; the encomium to the color red; a few poems. As she read each passage in her sweetly seductive voice, she slowly removed first one and then the other strap of her blouse and let it fall, revealing her breasts. She then wriggled out of both the blouse and her skirt until she stood stark naked but for her sexy heels. The poems were read in the buff.
When she was done the music began – selections of songs mentioned in the books. I invited the audience members who had pre-purchased books to step up and have Lola sign them while they each took a turn participating in one of the activities mentioned on Lo’s sign.
The first ones in line were a bit shy and timid. They ventured a kiss or a gentle tug on Lo’s nipples while she leaned over to sign one of the gloss nude photographs of her in the book. A few others took up the Sharpie pen and wrote love notes to Lo on various parts of her body. Some wrote “Slut” or “hotwife” or “cum here” with an arrow pointing to her puss.
As the audience saw the performance taking place, those without books were eager to get in line and I began selling our inventory. Men took out their cocks and began stroking as they eagerly awaited their turn in line.
Some of them stroked it next to Lola as she signed the books and wrote cute comments about the men’s anatomy in the margins.
The first man to cum did so on Lo’s feet, filling up her shoes with warm jizz.
The next man to cum had a powerful ejaculation and managed to hit Lo’s tits with remarkable aim. He even got a bit of applause!
A woman was in line and she gave Lo a very warm kiss on the lips and then slid her tongue down Lo’s neck to her glazed breasts and cleaned off the previous customer’s cumtribution.
This performance went on for some time, until we sold out of all our books!
Unfortunately for Lo, all of this fun foreplay was merely a tantalizing orgasm tease. She whispered in my ear and I briefly disappeared off stage to grab Lo’s favorite toy from one of the event sponsor’s display: The Hitachi Magic Wand. We plugged it into an extension cord and I brought the large, white device to Lo who proceeded to use it on her clit while sitting in a high stool. She spread her legs and, within only a few moments filled with tension and anticipation, Lo finally gushed with an torrential outpour of emotion, release, and fluid that covered the stage.
After her grand finale, some stage hands appeared at Lo’s side with warm, wet towels and they cleaned her off. One of them gently removed Lo’s feet, one at a time, from her shoes and wiped them down. Another person mopped the wooden floor. Once Lo was cleaned off, she got dressed again and we walked off the stage. Before exiting, though, Lo took a long bow, but not to the audience, but to the wings of the stage, thus giving the audience one last look up her skirt.
Congratulations were showered on Lo and me from our fellow literotica friends and authors and we got ready for the afterparty.