Category Archives: Tank Top
Protected: A Wet Workout and a Wank
Protected: Putting the “Fun” Back in “Fundamentalism” – Part 3: No Sexual Deviancy
Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper
[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.
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.
“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!
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.”
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.
“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.
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.”
“Whatever,” said Hagrid.
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
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
“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.
Opening Up
[This story was just published in the August issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy ‘ENM’ Magazine, p. 34. Enjoy!]
Slowly our world was opening. Like a tightly bound spring bud on the perennial, gradually, with the days growing longer and the temperatures climbing, the petals begin to unfurl, letting in water and air, letting out color and aromatic fragrance, similarly, with each passing day, more people were walking on the streets, more shops invited in limited customers, more restaurants set up tables outside. The patrons cautiously caroused and conversed in the allure of springtime sunshine that thawed the COVID chill of winter.
“Daddy,” said Lo that afternoon as she called me from home to my office where I was working, alone.
I knew from her tone, she wanted something.
“Yes?”
“Daddy, it’s Friday.”
“I am aware.”
“And it’s beautiful outside.”
“I can see,” I said, gazing out my office window onto the usually bustling, now sleepy street below.
“We haven’t had a date in forever.”
I wanted to remind Lo that, in the time of COVID-19, Friday evening is no different from Monday or Wednesday or any other day. But I refrained and listened.
“Can we go out?” she asked.
“For a walk?”
“No, I mean like out out.”
“To a restaurant?” I asked incredulously.
“Yes.”
“Lo, you know that you’ll only have a panic attack tonight if we do that.”
“I want to get dressed up, put on makeup, wear some fucking heels, and go out!”
She protested to me with the pent-up anger she had for the pandemic.
“Dressed up? Out? Where?”
“Anywhere! I haven’t worn anything but yoga pants for three months!”
“Spandex is your best color.”
“How can you possibly love me looking like this?”
“What? I love you in yoga pants. I love you out of yoga pants. I love getting you out of yoga pants. Then I love getting in you. But I digress. Where were we?”
“You’re taking me out tonight and we’re going to go to a restaurant to eat and pretend like none of this is happening!”
“If that’s what you want. You know I can’t deny you.”
“Good! I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”
A half hour later I got a phone call from Lo. “Daddy, I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
“You said a half hour a half hour ago.”
“Yeah, well, I forgot how to do this.”
“How to do what?”
“Put on makeup. I’m a mess. I have to start over.”
About an hour later I got a text from Lo, “I’m out front.”
I packed up my stuff and walked out onto the street. I saw Lo parked in front of my building, the windows down, looking toward the sidewalk, but not looking at me. She wore her tight blue dress. She had intense red lip gloss on and her hair was done like I hadn’t seen in three months or more.
I hopped in the car. “Hello.”
She was running her tongue over her lips.
“I see you’re eager for our date,” I said.
“Sit back,” she said, hardly acknowledging my presence.
I saw her looking through the plate glass window of the store to my right.
“I have an admirer.”
In the window was a young salesclerk. If I had to guess, I’d say he was about twenty-two. He was gazing right past me into Lo’s seductive eyes.
“It’s been a while,” I said to Lo. “Enjoying the attention?”
Lo didn’t answer. She was basking in the youth’s admiration of her beauty.
“I see that COVID hasn’t killed your vanity.”
“Vanity?” Lo asked, starting the car, “If you were about two minutes later, I would have had an orgasm right here.”
“Well don’t let me stop you.”
She pulled away from the curb, blowing a kiss to her handsome stranger who was reverse window shopping Lo’s goods.
“OK Love, where to?” I asked.
“Somewhere with outside seating.”
“That’s all that’s open right now.”
“And good food.”
“Of course. And expensive.”
“Why must it be expensive?”
“Because you judge a restaurant by how much weight my wallet loses.”
“You’re not wrong. And it also has to be pretty.”
“Guaranteed you’ll improve the atmosphere.”
I was glad she was driving. It’s difficult enough to find a dining establishment in this town that meets with Lo’s mood during normal times. I did not want to be the one responsible for pleasing her palate during COVID.
We zig-zagged through our city as she made suggestions and I looked them up to see if there was a chance that we’d get a table.
“Can’t you hurry, the sun will set soon!”
“Lo, this plan suffers from one fatal error.”
“What’s that?”
“It wasn’t planned!”
Exhausted, frustrated, and hungry, we abandoned dining out in favor of picking up two to-go meals, a bottle of champagne, plastic utensils and eating on a park bench overlooking the skyline of our city as the hues of dusk drenched us in an orange glow.
“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” I said.
No response.
“It’s intimate and romantic.”
“I want fancy, elegant, and full of possibilities.”
“Lo, we’re just not at that stage yet. I don’t even think the governor has ‘erotic dining’ on the list of phased reopening.”
“Well he should!”
We drove home and she sulked in the passenger seat.
“What will cheer you up?” I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders.
“There has to be something to get you out of these doldrums.”
She looked off into the distance and then back at me. She clearly was forming a thought. She reached over and ran her hands through my hair.
“What?” I asked, nervous.
“I’ve got an idea.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.
“When we get home, let me cut your hair.”
“What?”
“You need a haircut and you’re not ready to go to the barber.”
“Will it make you happy?”
“Very. I’ve always thought I could do it better.”
“You think that about everything.”
“Well, it’s true about most things.”
We got home and she said, “Get naked.”
“I thought you were giving me a haircut.”
“I am. Get naked.”
“I don’t get naked for my barber.”
“You’re going to get naked for me.”
I stripped out of my clothes and sat on the chair she set up in the bathroom. She pulled out the electric trimmer and some scissors, hair clips and my comb.
“Lo,” I said furtively, “you know that professional hairdressers spend one year only cutting the hair on manikins.”
“I watched a YouTube video. I’m good.”
“Oh, I see. Those hairstylists are wasting their tuition dollars.”
“Don’t you worry, I know what I’m doing.”
She got out of her blue dress and was wearing just her thong and a tank top revealing a lot of side-boob.
“Ok, I’m feeling better about this already.”
“I see,” she said, admiring my erection. “Does that happen to you at the barber?”
“My barber is named Luige, what do you think?”
“Good.”
She began with the back, running the trimmer up my scalp. Then the sides.
“You know, it’s my hair, not mowing lawn, right?”
“I told you, I watched a video.”
Then she came around the front and was looking at my head like a work of art, checking the symmetry. She got out the scissors, leaned in, combed my hair up, and began snipping, placing her breasts in my face. I pulled her shirt up to let her nipples dance before my admiring eyes. I leaned forward and took one in my mouth.
“Hey! You know I’m cutting your hair here?”
“Sorry, I got carried away.”
“Leave my tits alone until I’m done.”
“Can you cut my hair like this?” I asked, pulling the sides of her shirt into the cleavage of her breasts, revealing her tits.
“Do you promise just to look and not touch?”
“Yes, yes I do.”
“Fine. Now stay still.”
“It’s like a dream come true,” I said.
“You’ve always wanted Luige to wear his t-shirt like this?”
“No! Never mind.”
She continued cutting away and then trimmed up my beard and finally said, “Voilà!”
I stood up and looked in the mirror. It didn’t look half bad.
I hopped in the shower to get all the clippings off of me and, within moments, she slipped in next to me.
“Luige never did this either,” I said.
“I should hope not.”
When all the hair had washed from our bodies, she got down on her knees and, looking up at me, said, “Did you like how I cut your hair, Daddy?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What would you think if I opened up a shop and cut everyone’s hair like that?”
“In your panties and a tank top? Or giving everyone the same hair style as you gave me?”
She laughed. “So you admit, I’ve got style?”
“The finest style, class, tits, and ass. In fact, that could be the motto of your salon.”
She opened up her mouth and put out her tongue a little. “Don’t I get a tip, Daddy?”
I rested the tip of my cock in her mouth. She took the whole rod.
“Greedy, aren’t you?”
“It’s today’s special: a haircut and a happy ending.”
Pink Grapefruit
[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Sun Shower“]
It was Friday. Though I couldn’t wait to be reunited with my little nymphet, Jim and I wouldn’t be getting on the road until early the next morning. Soon Lola, Lily, and Collin were in the Jeep on their way back to the cottage. They got back just in time for dinner with Suzanne. After dinner and some drinks, Lily said to Lo, “I’m feeling tired. I’m going to bed, but why don’t you join Collin on the deck?”
Suzanne, apparently, had already gone to bed. Always the accommodating guest, Lola took her friend’s suggestion and found Collin sipping his whiskey as he sat in a double-wide swing outside, overlooking the lake.
Lo joined him on the swing and they made some small talk before he invited her to join him in the bedroom.
“What about Suzanne?” asked Lo.
“We sleep in separate bedrooms,” said Collin. “She sleeps with Shadow and Bandit,” he said, referring to the dogs. “It’s been this way for a while.”
Lo followed him through the quiet house to the master bedroom. It was enormous. The square footage of that room alone was probably bigger than our living room and kitchen together. It had a master bath attached in an open plan layout. Lo said she’d like to wash up before bed. She dropped her denim shorts, removed her cutoff top and turned on the shower. She stepped in as Collin watched her. There was no door on the slate tiled shower. The water just poured down from a waterfall fountain near the high ceiling. Lo washed up and then dried off with one of the plush terrycloth towels.
She walked over to the bed where Collin was lying in just his flannel pajama bottoms. She must have missed the brief moment when he changed. Sitting on the bed near him, she removed the towel and passed him a bottle of lotion she had found by the sink.
“Moisturize me,” she said.
She was lying on her tum and he began with her shoulders. His large, strong hands gently rubbed the scented cream into her skin. She let out a moan. “That feels soooo good.”
Collin continued down her back and pushed up from her hips toward her shoulders in long, slow strokes.
Finally he worked his way around her bum, grabbing with his fingers and thumbs and spreading her ass cheeks apart so he could get a good look at her special spot in a slight variation from his performance the day before.
“Clean as a whistle,” he remarked, taking note of one of Lo’s most remarkable features.
“I used the pink grapefruit bodywash in the shower.”
“Looks it,” he said.
“Does it taste like grapefruit?” she asked.
He continued his exploration of her anatomy with his palms sliding down her thighs to her calves. He simply ignored her question.
His hands massaged around her ankles and then her feet. His thumbs pressed into the arch of her feet and he rubbed in sensual circles, bringing her close to climax.
Before she had another accident, she turned over and looked at Collin.
“Why don’t you get out of those pjs?” she asked, straining to see if he was hard.
To her great surprise, he agreed and soon he was as naked as she. But to her greater surprise, he was as flaccid as a well-cooked strand of spaghetti, though almost as long.
“Lo,” he said in a quiet tone, “there’s something I have to tell you.”
Lo’s eyes widened.
“About twenty years ago I was badly injured in a horse riding accident.”
“Oh no,” said Lo, even before hearing the details. She gave him space to explain.
“I was riding one of my prized stallions and I thought I had trained him a lot better than I did. He saw a shadow or a branch or something. Maybe he thought it was a snake. Maybe it was a snake. I don’t know. It was a long time ago and it happened fast. He reared up and threw me off.”
Lo covered her mouth as she gasped.
“The fall wasn’t that bad, but then he bucked and his rear hoof went right into my back. I had a serious injury to my thoracic spinal nerve 11, or T-11. For a long time I was in a wheelchair, which is why this room is on the first floor and is designed to be completely wheelchair accessible. I had a number of surgeries and eventually, after a lot of physical therapy, I was able to walk again. But, unfortunately,” he looked down, “I never recovered to full functioning.”
Lo looked at Collin’s lengthy, beautiful cock, longingly.
“Nothing?” she asked a little tactlessly.
“Nothing. Suzanne and I tried everything. For years. Surgeries, pills, pump. Nothing could get me hard or keep me hard.”
“No orgasm, I guess,” she asked, unable to conceal a tone of disappointment from her voice.
“Not in over twenty years.”
“Desire?”
“So much desire,” he said.
“What can I do for you?” asked Lo, always eager to please.
“Lo, your visit has been a godsend.”
“So you don’t want to finger me or have me suck you off or anything?”
“I actually just enjoy talking to you.”
“Naked?”
“Well, that makes it more interesting.”
“Can I?”
“Can you what?” he asked and then understood. “Oh, give it the ole college try?”
Lo nodded.
“See for yourself.”
Lo wasted no time. She got between his legs with her face and finally gave free reign to her pent-up desire. She licked, lapped, sucked, slurped, teased, touched, kissed, caressed, pressed, pulled, stroked, sloughed, and finally ceased, all to no avail. Not that it wasn’t fun for her, but it did not bring about her hoped for result.
Spent, she lay back and stroked herself, but, without instilling a similar arousal in her host, she quickly became bored of it.
“You’re a remarkable woman,” said Collin.
His words fell on deaf ears. Lo couldn’t help but feel let down by her mere humanity. She had hoped to perform a miracle. To raise Lazarus, to bring forth a baguette from a lump of dough, to at least fulfill some longed for fantasy.
In the end the two of them just sat together on the bed and they traded fabulous story for more outrageous tale.
Quiver
[Continued from “Black Friday: A Juicy Story Before Brunch”
The day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday. Miami Beach. Lo was on a mission. This was our third day in Miami. Seventy-two hours of glorious sunny days, short-shorts, and sex. And, in typical Lo fashion, she wanted more of all three.
“What’s for breakfast?” I asked.
“I thought we were having sex,” she said as she sat on the side of the bed wearing only her sexy tank-top T-shirt and spreading her legs.
“Sex for breakfast?”
“Yeah, we’ll call it ‘Sex-fest.’”
“But Lo, you just came twice.”
“That was all external stimulation. It just makes me more hungry.”
“Hungry for breakfast?” I asked, since I was starving.
“No, hungry for your cock in my cunt.”
“It’s not even 9 a.m. and you’re using that sort of language?!”
“It’s never too early to speak a Romance Language.”
“You forget, I was in the Romance Languages department at my college. They didn’t speak like that.”
“Illiterate.”
“We could discuss the nuances of philology all morning, but. . .”
“But I want you to fuck me. Please. Just a quick in-and-out is all I need.”
“Fine,” I said and I puled my shorts down around my knees.
The hotel room bed was only a full; much smaller than we were used to. I said to her, “There better be a spot for me in that bed cause I’m getting in it.”
“Oh, I’ve got a spot for you and you definitely are going to get in it.”
She turned over and scrunched up her body into a little ball on the bed, exposing her puss and ass to me.
“Just go right in,” she said over her shoulder, as if I needed some instructions.
“Top or bottom?” I asked.
“Top or bottom?” she was confused.
“Yeah, which hole?”
“Which do you want?” she asked seductively, surprising me.
“Top!” I said without hesitation.
“Well, fill the bottom first and, if you’re good, you can have the top.”
Standing by the side of the bed, I slid in with ease and she moaned. She was drenched and dripping. “Stay. Right. There,” she commanded. I didn’t even move. I just grabbed her by her hips and lifted her a little then pushed her down a little. Up and down, up and down I slid her on my cock. My thumb moved its way to her top hole to press against it. Within seconds her cunt was gushing and clenching. I pulled her in closer by her hips to make sure I stayed in place; the tip of my cock up against her g-spot. She didn’t even scream. She just bit her lower lip and moaned. I could see her facial expressions and contortions in the mirror. In a few more seconds she pulled forward and, as I slid out of her, she squirted. I was careful to jump back and avoid getting splashed.
“Ahhhh,” she said, “that did the trick.”
She was splayed out on the bed now, breathing heavily. I stood next to the bed.
“This isn’t a coat rack,” I said of my erect phallus.
“What?” she asked, perplexed.
“You promised me the top hole, remember?”
“Oh, right!”
She scrunched up into her little ball again, wiggling her ass in front of me. “Can you hit the target?” she teased.
“Stay still and my arrow will fill your quiver.”
I grabbed her hips again and pressed the full head of my cock up against her sphincter. Her flower bud opened. Slowly I filled her. I could see her hands out in front of her clutching the bed sheets as she felt the pain and pleasure of my deep dive.
Again she commanded, “Stay. Right. There.” Her ass clenched down on me and her body turned the noun, “quiver,” into a verb.
Suddenly she lunged forward, just like she did before, leaving me hard up, standing by the side of the bed a second time as she caught her breath.
Turning her head over her shoulder, she said, “Amazing, Daddio!”
Then, noticing me pulling up my shorts, she said, “Aren’t you going to cum?”
“Darling, thirty seconds of standing behind you, rigid as a statue, while you got your rocks off was exclusively for your pleasure.”
“But I want you to cum.” She turned around, on all fours, facing me, or rather, my crotch. She looked up at me and asked, “Don’t you know what Cyndi Lauper says?”
“Cyndi Lauper?! You’re dating yourself dear.”
“Oh, I wish I could date myself. I’d be such a good fuck.”
“You’re getting distracted again. What does Cyndi Lauper say?”
“Oh, right. She sings, ‘Girls just wanna have cum. That’s all they really want – some cum.’” She sang the lyrics.
“I think you might be taking some poetic license with that.”
“Whatever. Cum in my mouth,” she commanded as she took my cock into her open mouth and slobbered over it with her tongue.
“And spoil your appetite?” I asked, enjoying the sensation and the thought of what a dirty, slutty girl she is.
“It’s more of an appetizer.”
“No,” I said flatly, pulling out of her mouth.
She pouted.
“I’m starving,” I said. “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to waste away.”
She rolled her eyes sarcastically – as if I was in any mortal danger of wasting away.
“What?” I asked. “Look at me,” I said, striking a pose, flexing my biceps, “One hundred seventy-five pounds of pure muscle!”
“One hundred and seventy-five?!” Lo exclaimed in disbelief, “Aren’t you a few pounds off there?”
“No. It is a hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle. The other thirty pounds might be fat, but under it is the pure muscle.”
“Still a little shy of the mark, I think.”
“Well, the other ten pounds is brain, of course.”
“Of course,” she said sardonically.
I stepped on the scale and cursed it saying, “You lying sack of shit!”
Lo, naked but for her T-shirt, stepped on the scale after me and said, “It better not be lying, it says I lost two pounds!”
“It lies.”
“Does it? Or could it be that my diet and exercise and drinking plenty of liquids has caused me to lose two pounds?”
“It lies.”
“Why would it lie to me that I lost two pounds and lie to you that you. . . well, uh, you’re. . . ?”
“Because it likes the view it has of you from down there.”
She laughed. She almost never laughs at my jokes, but I suppose this one also appealed to her vanity. I love it when she laughs.
“Do you like the view?” she asked, bending over and looking at me from between her knees.
“I don’t know why they call it mooning when it looks as bright and pink as the sunrise to me,” I said. “But as pretty as you are, morning glory, can we please go get breakfast?”
“Sure,” she said as she slipped into her bikini bottoms. “How do these look?”
It was a very skimpy pink thong bikini bottom that she purposely pulled up extra tight.
I gave her a cat-call whistle and launched into a sing-song limerick:
Do your labia hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
Can you throw ’em o’er your shoulder
Like a continental soldier?
Do your labia hang low?
“What?!” she asked, looking down between her legs.
“Look in the mirror,” I gestured.
She took a look and could see what I saw: her puffy pussy lips straddling the skinny g-string. She’s very self-conscious of her large labia.
“Ah, fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissing my concern. She walked up to me and, seeing that I had pitched a tent in my shorts, she sang back:
Does your cock stand high?
Does it reach up to the sky?
Does it droop when it’s wet?
Does it stiffen when it’s dry?
Can you wave it at your neighbor
With an element of flavor?
Does your dick stand high?
“Touché,” I said.
“Tushie?” she asked, turning around and showing me her bottom again.
I smacked it hard and said, “That’s for being tardy.”
We finally got in the rental car and I let Lo drive. Lo being Lo, she blasted the radio and “I’m Real” by Ja Rule happened to be on, pounding the bass of the speakers to the chorus:
-Cause I’m real-
The way you walk
The way you move
The way you talk
-Cause I’m real-
The way you stare
The way you look
Your style your hair
-Cause I’m real-
The way you smile
The way you smell
It drives me wild
-Cause I’m real-
And I can’t go on without you
Lo was contentedly squirming in her leather bucket seat to the beat of the music.
“Can you shut that damn music off?!” I complained.
“You know, you sound like an old man when you say that.”
“You know, I am an old man.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just sad to think about.”
“Well, if you want to break up with me, go right ahead.”
“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”
“No. You said that it’s ‘sad’ to think about me being an old man.”
“It is! I mean, I’m not even at the great hump of my life yet.”
“I thought I was the great hump of your life.”
“I should hope not.”
“What?!”
“What I mean is, I’m not over the hill yet.”
“I should hope not.”
“What does that mean?”
“It simply means, that at twenty-something, you still have some great humps to look forward to.”
“And you don’t?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m looking forward to humping you in about five minutes.”
“Why so long?”
“So long? Is five minutes too much to wait for you youngins these days?”
“Five minutes is like two and a half news cycles.”
“Well, here’s some breaking news: the best is yet to come.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause I love cumming.” She pulled up to the curb. “Here we are. Where are you going to fuck me?”
“Well, I need nourishment first. Let’s eat,” I said as we got out of the convertible and went to the hostess stand on the sidewalk. We were seated at a quaint table outside with a view of Ocean Boulevard and the beach across the street. Pretty people were walking by and fancy cars were cruising slowly to see and be seen.
A tricked-out car drove by – shiny, sparkly, loud. Lo was clearly impressed.
She observed it closely and then commented, “The exhaust is merely cosmetic.”
“Just like yours!” I quipped.
She gave me a look of faux shock.
A musclebound fella walked by in a tiny speedo and a loose fitting tank-top.
“Lo, stop drooling. Or at least use a napkin.”
“What?! He’s a very beefy boy. . . and I’m a beefeater,” she said, taking a slow, seductive bite of her sausage.
After breakfast, we walked down the strip and Lo was window shopping, until she was actually shopping. I sat outside sipping my frozen drink. When she came back out, she gave me a t-shirt like the one worn by Mr. Muscles.
“I didn’t know whether to get you a large or an extra large,” she said.
“You should always get me grandiose.”
“To match your ego?”
We walked down to the beach and Lo pulled out of her oversized bag a sheet she stole from the hotel. She spread it out on the sand and then spread herself on top of it. I sat down next to her and began rubbing in the sunscreen on her shoulders. When I was done I said, “I’ll draw on your back with my finger and you tell me what I’m spelling.”
“OK. But where’s the top?”
“Here,” I said, as I scribbled up by her shoulder blades.
“Hey! What are you doing?” she asked as my finger went down between her butt cheeks.
“I’m just seeing where the bottom is. Oh! Look at that. I think I found the ink well.”
“Yeah?! You’re gonna have a broken nub if you keep it up!”
After a bit, she pulled out the deck of cards from her bag and began shuffling them.
“What are you playing?”
“Strip Solitaire.”
“Are you winning or losing?”
“I’ll take off my top and you tell me.”
I scanned the beach to see if any other women were going topless.
“Hey!” she said, “I’m over here!!!”
She thought she saw me looking at some of the other sexy women on the strand.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, teasing her. “So I like looking at them. They’re like boats: I like how they look, but I don’t want to have one.”
“Oh yeah? Like boats? You better watch out that I don’t wash them away with my tsunami.”
“Are you squirting again? I didn’t even see you touch your puss.”
“I don’t need to with all this eye-candy.”
“Oh, so it’s ok for you to look, but not me?”
“Exactly. Next pair of sunglasses I buy you will be blinders.”
With that comment, she left her card game and sauntered into the water. Just at the water’s edge, she turned back to me and called, “Daddio! Aren’t you coming?”
“Not yet,” I called back, “but I will be.”
“What?!” she called.
“I’m not coming!”
She yelled back, “I’ll fix that!” She then turned tail and bent over, revealing her shoelace thin thong. She feigned finding a seashell, but she was just showing off. She eventually walked in the water, sticking out her tongue at me over her shoulder as the waves crested and fell over her hips. Then she dove in.
When she returned from the cool dip, she asked, “What do you think of my hair?” as it dripped from its curls down her breasts.
“You look just like Medusa.”
“That’s not a compliment. Wasn’t she so ugly that she turned anyone who looked at her to stone?”
“No no no, that’s not it. What the Greeks meant was any man who saw her got hard as a rock and that’s how I feel about you and your wild, curly hair.”
“Nice save,” she said with a smile as she laid down next to me, getting me all wet.
I had just got comfortable and was engrossed in the book I was reading, The Postmodern Condition, you know, your typical beach read, when she said, “Let’s go for a walk Daddy.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes, Daddio. I want to go find something nice.”
“To wear?”
“To fuck.”
“I’m still available, you know.”
“Available? No you’re not. You’re taken.”
“I’d never know it.”
“You had me this morning.”
“For thirty seconds to help you get your rocks off.”
“So, what the hell are you complaining about?”
“I’d like to get my rocks off.”
“Oh, are your rocks aching?”
“Yes. Yes they are.”
“Follow me. Let’s see if we can do something about that.”
We went for a walk through the dunes to a little wooded park, verdant with scrub pines, palms, and colorful flowers. When we found a little bench, she said to me, “OK, you go over there and just watch.”
“What am I watching for?”
“You’ll know it when you see it.”
I sat diagonally from her, about thirty feet away. I watched as she sat there looking pretty. Guys walked by, mostly couples. But then one muscular black man in a skimpy bathing suit, bulging out of the itty-bitty stretchy material, stopped and asked her a question. She looked up, batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, licking her teeth with her tongue as she looked down, furtively, at his crotch. They began chatting. And then, within not so very long they got up and walked out of sight.
About a half-hour later Lo returned to the spot where I waited for her.
She approached me slowly, with a look of wily satisfaction and mystery about her.
“You can have me now, Daddy. He’s all done.” I noticed jizz covering her clavicle. She grabbed my hand and walked me to the secluded spot where she had just been with the tall, dark stranger.
“Lo,” I said, “What do you mean he’s all done?”
“Well,” she said, “do you want me to act out exactly what we did?”
“Sure.”
She laid down on the bench and began stroking her pussy over her short shorts while I stood over her and looked at her.
“Well, Daddio?”
“Well what?”
“Aren’t you going to take out your cock and stroke it? That’s what he did.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“And what did you do?”
“What do you think? What should a good girl do when she goes to the park and begins masturbating over her shorts and a tall, dark, hung stranger appears pantless ready to fuck?”
“Did you get his digits?”
“All of them.”
“All of them?”
“Yeah, all of them, inside me.”
“Right here?”
“Right here.”
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.
“To a bar. I need a drink.”
Truth was, it was hot. I was thirsty. I was tense. I was irritated. I was horny. And I wasn’t about to start fucking Lola right there in the barely concealed patch of public privacy.
“Wait!” she said. “I have to change first.” She spread her legs and showed me the dark spot covering the crotch of her denim shorts where she apparently squirted.
She popped into the public restroom and a moment later, she popped out wearing just her bikini top and a short skirt.
“Wow!” I said. “You’re like a superhero!”
“Super Squirt!” she pronounced, swinging her shorts around her finger, grabbing me by my arm.
We went to a fancy hotel with a rooftop deck, pool, and bar. This was a new hotel and the rooftop was pretty high up there and it even had a balcony with a glass floor.
Lo walked out and leaned over the railing and said, “Wow! Don’t look down!”
“I’m not,” I said, “I’m lookin’ up – lookin’ up your skirt, that is.” No panties. No bikini thong. Nothing. Just her perfectly shapely and shaved mons pubis.
We then went and sat at the bar where I ordered a Tom Collins. Lo apologized to the bartender for my unfashionable taste in drinks, saying, “I’m sorry, he’s old.”
The bartender chuckled.
For the middle of the day, on a beautiful beach day, the bar was pretty busy. But, I guess for the people who live down there, going to the beach every day loses its allure pretty quickly.
Lo asked me, “You want to see what I saw on the bench?”
“Sure,” I said, not knowing where she was going with this.
She pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo of her with her legs spread and a guy with an elephant trunk hanging down from his crotch standing over her.
The old pervert seated next to Lo at the bar – not me, the guy on the other side of her – looked over Lo’s shoulder out of curiosity.
“Nice shot,” he said.
“Not nearly as nice as when he came on me,” retorted Lo without missing a beat.
“Is that so?” asked Mr. Intrusive.
“Yes, that’s so,” said Lo, followed by, “Oh, how rude of me. HH, this is,” she said, as if introducing an old friend.
“Kip,” he said.
“Kip,” said Lo. “Kip, HH,” she said, introducing us.
I shook his hand over Lo’s lap and said, “Nice to meet you.”
“Pleasure,” he said.
He clearly had had a few already. He wore a festive Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, sandals. I’d say he was about 46 and beginning to bald. A bit overweight. Genial smile and friendly – midwestern friendly. Too friendly, you might say.
Lo was in a festive, flirty mood and so she teased and toyed with this guy, telling both him and me what happened with her mystery man down by the beach.
“How very slutty of you,” he said.
“I thought so,” replied Lo proudly.
The guy asked, “Will you be my slut?”
“I’m everyone’s slut. That’s what being a slut is.”
“I don’t know if you could handle me,” said the guy.
“Why not?” asked Lo, defiantly.
“My cock – it’s pretty big and has a lot of girth,” he said.
Lola pulled out her phone and found a photo of her horse cock dildo. “This is one of my toys,” she said. “I can handle any cock. Any human cock, that is.”
The guy was trying to play it cool, but I could see he was intrigued by Lo’s unabashed candor.
What about Lo? She was flirting and teasing, but was she actually into him? I couldn’t tell.
We had a few more drinks and continued chatting. The fella next to us was married, had adult children, older than Lo, and claimed to be in Miami on business. But it was Thanksgiving weekend. Who is in Miami on business?
Lola was waxing rhapsodic about how much she loved Miami – the ocean, the beaches, the restaurants.
The guy interjected, “The orgasms on the boardwalk.”
Lo squirmed in her barstool and pressed her knees together.
She looked at me, embarrassed. I knew what happened.
I said, “You could say, she cums with the territory,” as I feigned spilling my water.
“That’s the worst pun you ever made,” said Lo as she watched me clean up the mess she made under her stool from her perch.
“Really? I’m sure I’ve made worse,” I said, looking up at her, hoping she wouldn’t have another accidental squirting orgasm.
“I’m sorry,” Lo apologized to our new friend, “Dad jokes.”
“I’m a dad,” he said, “no need to apologize.”
Along one side of the pool there were semi-private alcoves with recliners made for two. Lo ordered another drink and suggested we take the one that was recently vacated before someone else got it. She picked up her bag and casually sauntered to her destination.
Mr. Middleage followed her, leaving me to grab (and pay for) our last round.
When I got to the little cabana, Lo was lying down with her Mr. Marriedman next to her. I handed Lo her drink and said I was going for a swim. Her antics were beginning to upset me, if I’m honest.
I got in the warm water and rested up against the side of the pool with my drink in hand, watching Lo and her beau.
She lay with her legs crossed under her skirt. She removed her bikini top. The guy ogled her. They were making small talk. I could practically read Lo’s lovely lips when she said, “That’s ok, you can touch.”
The guy put his hand on Lo’s hip and slowly caressed her. Lo turned over and he put his hand down under her skirt and I could see him touch her bum as she took a sip from her straw.
She rolled on her side, showing him her tits and letting her skirt open in front. She said, “You like what you see?”
He said something I couldn’t make out.
“Are you hard?”
Again, I couldn’t make out the words.
“Jack it,” she commanded.
He pulled a towel over his cargo shorts and reached down. Lo watched him intently.
She loves being the stimulant for sexually starving strangers, the sweet release for men and women who need a focus for their swirling smut-dreams like a mantra for meditation.
She was speaking softly to him, encouraging him, telling him dirty things about her, probably telling him about how she sucked my cock after letting me have her ass that morning.
His head dropped back and he became rigid for a few seconds before crumpling like a suit having all its starch sucked out in one magic moment.
Lo got up and came into the pool. Her skirt billowed behind her in the water. She swam to me and said, “Let’s go, Daddio.”
“Mission accomplished?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. My mission is to make you cum like that,” she said as she grabbed my cock under the water.
We got out and Lo put her top on, and we walked out, both dripping wet, but she in more ways than one.
She blew a good-bye kiss to the man with the mess in his cargo.
Back at the hotel, Lo could hardly wait.
“Did you like everything today, Daddy?” she asked as she lay naked on the bed.
“Most of it,” I said, thinking it over.
“Let’s take a shower,” she said, just as I got out of my clothes and was very ready and eager to have her.
“What? Now?”
“Yeah,” she said. “I got sand in my hoo-ha.”
“What did you say?”
“You know, I’m not interested in any pearls in the ole clam.”
“Only you, darling, only you,” I said, amused at her pornographic poetry.
The shower had a small seat built into the back wall of it. She sat on it, spread her legs, looked up at me, and said, “Was I a very bad girl today, Daddy?”
“Yes, yes you were.”
“Was I a dirty little slut?”
“Very much so.”
“Are you mad that I let a man cum on me in public?”
“No, darling.”
“Are you mad that I walked around with his cum on my body all day?”
“Proud of your accomplishment?”
“Oh yeah,” she said.
“Am I terribly disgusting?” she asked.
“Not to me,” I said. I can’t lie.
“Show me, Daddy, that I’m yours,” she said.
I wasn’t sure what she was after.
She reached out and grabbed my cock and held it in her hand.
“You drank a lot at the bar,” she said.
“Not too much. A few drinks.”
“Have you peed even once today, Daddy?”
Now I knew where she was going.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes,” she said, a certain neediness in her voice.
I closed my eyes, relaxed, and let go.
She shook her tits and spread her legs wide as I drenched her in the warm stream from her chin down to her twat.
“That’s right, Daddy,” she said, “I’m such a slutty, cum-hungry, whore.”
I looked down at her, dripping wet, and said, “Ah, the Fountain of Youth!”
When I was done, we turned on the warm water and took turns washing and worshipping each other.
When we finally got in bed she said, “Use me, Daddy. Use me however you want. Treat me like your little fuck-doll.”
I had her on the bed just like I did in the morning. I slid in her puss only briefly and then went back to her other hole, filling her from tip to balls.
“Mmmmm, yes. Hold me down. I like that. Slap my ass. Slap my puss. Slap me. Hold me down. Hurt me. Make it hurt! Make me yours again, Daddy. I’ve been so bad today. I just want to be yours. Yours. Make me stop whoring around town. Make me good again. Make me so sore I can’t even walk. Make me stop searching for cock. Make me good again.” She went on like that the entire time I fucked her until I was nearly ready to cum – finally after a full day of teasing and edging, watching her degrade herself for me and for others, in private and in public. Finally, I was ready to explode with all that pent-up jealousy, desire, rage, ravage, revenge, lust, love, and “Lo!” I called out as I was about to erupt.
She quickly hopped off my rod and spun around, opening her mouth wide and accepting the offering I emitted like a parched nomad in the desert desirous of every last drop of life-giving liquid. She wrapped her mouth around my cock and sucked, encouraging me to continue cumming until I could stand no more.
I fell down on the bed next to her and immediately lost consciousness, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Good Fences Make Good Neighbors
It was one of those lovely summer days when you look out the window from your office and see everyone walking on the crowded street in t-shirts and miniskirts and you just wish it was the weekend and not Wednesday. I had walked to work in the morning and, though I knew it would be a scorcher walking home in my suit, I couldn’t wait to get out of the office. Finally five-o-clock arrived and I walked under the still blazing June sun back home, feeling the sweat soak the back of my shirt, but glad to be outside. It was like some sort of primitive instinct. We are sometimes more animal than human and this was one of those times that my body knew with greater intellect than my mind that we were not made to sit eight hours a day under florescent lights.
Walking up the street to home, I saw Lola sitting on the front stoop in her little blue Daisy Dukes and very loose-fitting tank top (no bra) talking with two young men. As I got closer, I could see (without hearing the words spoken, just from their body-language) that the two guys were simply making small-talk in order to keep looking down Lo’s shirt. I could also see that Lo was more than happy to let them, feigning complete ignorance of what was happening.
I got a little closer yet and now, even from the distance where I was, I could see Lo’s nipples through the white T. She was smiling and saying something that I could just about hear. Oh, that’s it, she’s complaining about how dry it has been and what it’s doing to her flowers as she crouches down to caress one of her prized plants. This was just a rouse, of course, to allow them to see more of her breasts and to get her eyes level with their groins.
It was at that point that she spied me walking home. She stood up and said, “And this is H.H.” She nodded in my direction and added, “Like I said, he’s going to be away this weekend.” I greeted the two young fellows with a handshake, and they introduced themselves as Roy and Gary. “They live there,” said Lo, standing a bit on her tiptoes, pointing down the street. “They just moved in a couple of weeks ago.”
The boys picked it up from there, explaining that they’re brothers and one of them just graduated high school, the other is a freshman in college and they just moved in up the street. I introduced myself and Lo again said, “It’s too bad you’ll be out of town on business Friday through Sunday cause it’s supposed to be perfect beach weather. I can’t wait to start my tan! Maybe Friday, after work, I’ll lie out in the back yard.” Though she was saying all of this to me, it wasn’t meant for me at all. It was meant for the boys. A transparent code for, “I’ll be alone this weekend and in a bikini (or less) and you should definitely come see me.”
The boys, big grins on their faces, knowing that they got away with something, made their excuses for having to go back home and said, “Nice meeting you,” as they left.
“What was that all about?” I asked Lo when they were gone.
“Just being neighborly.”
“By letting them see your tits?”
“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood. Does that upset you, Daddy?”
“Plan on throwing a little party for them while I’m gone this weekend?”
“I hope they’ll both come!” she said, running her tongue over her lips.
“I’m sure they will. You’re very lucky that such good looking guys moved so close. You could be their go-to slut.”
“I sure hope so.”
“Should I drill a couple of holes in the fence?”
“Oh, Daddy, you’re bad!”
“No, you’re bad.”
“Well, if you have time before you have to leave and it’s not too much trouble. . . ”
“Lola!”
“Just kidding. Why don’t you go inside, take a shower, and then drill me.”
Bigger, Harder, Longer
Carrying a mug of coffee, I walk in on her just as she is squirting, pulling the Hitachi away from her clit. Her hands scrunch up the sheets under her and her legs are spread. Her head lifts and her breasts heave as she breathes quick breaths, screaming, “Oh Fuck! Oh FUCK! OH Fuuuuck!!!” She looks over at me and says, “Don’t just stand there, get me a towel!” I do so.
“I just came to tell you breakfast is ready.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Daddio!”
“When you’re ready, I’ll see you at the breakfast table.”
“But you didn’t kiss me good morning.”
“Yes I did.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I did – all night long.”
“Yeah. I had to punch you to get you to stop and let me sleep.”
“Well, those were your good morning kisses.”
“I want one now.”
I lean over to kiss her good morning. She lets me kiss her on the lips before pushing my head down between her legs. “I meant there,” she says.
“Lo, I’m not going to eat you out before I eat breakfast. It’s on the table getting cold!”
“Just one kiss, Daddio. Please.”
I indulge her. One kiss turns to a full-on tongue-fuck-fest of every area between her legs from the small of her back to her bellybutton. Luckily she cums quickly. I pull back and go into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Her juices have a way of soaking my beard and mustache. I look up, into the vanity mirror over the sink and see her preparing to pound herself with a dildo.
“OK, that does it!” I call to her. “I’m just going to throw out the breakfast I made.”
“No, Daddio, I’ll be there in. . .” Her words trail off as she becomes preoccupied with the instrumental manipulation of her puss.
I walk out of the bedroom, my hard-on leading the way. I sit down at the breakfast table alone and eat the luke-warm eggs and toast while I hear her sing-song voice of oohs and ahs crescendo from the bedroom.
When we’re both done, I stand up, put my plate and glass in the sink and I bring her her breakfast on a tray.
“Oh, breakfast in bed!” she squeals, leaning over to put her toys away safely stashed under the bed.
“If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain will come to Mohammed.”
“Daddy, I’ll cum to anything.”
“Don’t I know it! What did you cum to today?”
“I’m sorry Daddy,” she says, looking guilty.
“Why? Because you let your eggs and toast get cold?”
She shakes her head, no.
“What is it then? That you used my mouth, but kept all the orgasms to yourself?”
Again she shakes her head in the negative. Keeping orgasms to herself gives her no guilt.
“Then what?”
She passes her phone to me. I look at it. It’s a photo of a giant black cock.
“A friend of yours?”
“Not yet, but I hope someday.”
“Who is it?”
“Just a fan.”
“A fan of your pics, not my writing I assume.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him about it.”
“What’s he have to say for himself?”
“I don’t know. He just sent me this pic and. . .”
“And it’s got you all preoccupied.”
She shook her head yes with a guilty look on her face. “I want it, Daddy!” she said like a girl asking for a big lollipop at the circus.
I turn to leave the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To do the dishes.”
“I’ll do it!”
“No, I’ll do it. I don’t like the way you do it. Besides, you have to eat your cold breakfast.”
“Why do you wish to maintain control all the time?”
“It’s not a matter of retaining control. It’s a matter of maintaining standards.”
“You have so many standards. Double standards.”
“I only have one standard. . . the best.”
“That’s my line,” she says, followed by, “but, if you’re speaking about me, then go on.”
I finally walk out the bedroom into the kitchen. As I’m in the midst of putting dishes into the dishwasher, Lo saunters up to the entrance of the kitchen naked as the day she was born, she turns to me and says, “Are you jealous?” She’s always trying to get me jealous, to no avail.
“Lo, you’re standing right where the neighbors can see you through the window, you know.”
“Does that make you jealous?”
“No. But it may make the neighbor’s wife jealous!”
“Phhh,” she sounds dismissively, bending over to give the neighbor a more explicit view. As she’s bent over, she says, “I’m just a hotwife with an exhibitionist’s streak and a loving man who can use his fingers to type out stories that make people come back for more.”
“I don’t think your big friend was coming back for my writing.”
“Well, I can’t help it if behind every good nympho is a line of men waiting to fuck her and behind every bad nympho is a longer line.”
“Which one are you?”
“Fuck me, Daddy, and you’ll see.”
“No, Lo, I already know. I was just testing to see if you would admit to it.”
“The line behind me is very long, very hard,” she says as she reaches over and grabs my cock.
“That doesn’t make sense. How is the line hard?”
“Fuck me and I’ll show you.”
She bends over, this time with her rear towards me rather than toward the window.
“Are you still doing the same old thing?” I ask.
“You mean you?” she asks, looking at me from between her legs.
“Very funny. This ‘old thing’ is going to work.”
“Work on me!”
“Didn’t I make you cum this morning? – and you squirted all over me and the bed!”
“That was a drop in the bucket.”
She wiggles her ass, like she’s playing charades. So I guess, “You’re horny.”
She sees the bulge in my khakis. “And you want me.”
“Yes, Lo. I always want you. But sometimes I have to actually go to work.” I walk over to her and give her wiggling bum a good smack.
“Mmmmm,” she moans, “again!”
I repeat.
“I love spankings,” she says, “they’re like applause, but on my ass! Let me hear how much you like my ass.”
I ‘applaud’ her five or six times. But I do no more than applaud. I then walk out of the kitchen.
“But Daddy,” I hear her call down the hallway, “what about my encore!”
I leave the house and go to work, but on my way home that afternoon, I stop and run a special errand for Lo. For a while now I’ve wanted to try a cock sleeve. I run into my local adult toy shop and peruse the possibilities. After a careful review, I decide on one that is a total of 11 inches, dark brown in complexion, very realistic, and best of all, has a ring to wrap around my balls to anchor the sleeve in place.
Back at home I find that Lo has invited a few people over for a little get-together. Unaware that we were expecting company, I have to find a way of sneaking the rather large box in the house inconspicuously. I decide to pop my head in, say hello to the guests, and declare that we need some more beer. I run out to the local store and pick up a six-pack. I throw the toy in the plain brown bag and rush in, crossing my fingers that no one stops me on the way.
They are all in the living room and I call out, “I’m back! I’ll just pop these in the fridge and be right there.” I head to the bedroom first, hide my stash under the bed, and then put the beer in the fridge, removing one for myself first.
Walking in on our little circle of friends, I take a look at Lo and see that she has put on a stunning little number. Her heels, her short-shorts, and her black tank-top with her one-size-too-small push-up bra under it, giving her quite the shelf popping out of the top. What’s the reason for this, I wonder.
I give her a kiss hello and tell her I’m famished, looking at her quizzically.
Lola complains that the meal she prepared didn’t come out the way that she was hoping.
I say, “You know, I don’t think love is blind so much as love is deaf.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
“You could go on complaining like that all night, but because you look so good, I don’t hear a thing.”
I get a little laugh from everyone there and then the ‘guests of honor’ arrive. Two young men from across the street who had moved in recently were invited by Lo. Brothers. Built. Did I mention young?
“HH, you remember Roy and Gary,” she says, that look of desire in her eye, her tongue running over her lips as she introduces us. “I just thought,” she says innocently, “since we were having people over, I’d invite them as well.”
“Very neighborly of you,” I say.
The rest of the night goes on with Lo dancing that fine line between being a charming hostess and a wicked vixen.
Finally, past eleven, all our guests leave, including the brothers from across the street.
Lo goes into the bedroom and when I emerge out of the bathroom, cock sleeve firmly in place, Lo nearly jumps in fear and fawning over the giant extension between my legs.
“What the hell is that?!” she cries out.
“Just something special I bought for you today.”
“What? Why? Today?”
“Yes. Because you were so enamored of your fan who sent you that pic that was longer than your forearm.”
“But Daddio, you know I love you,” she says, reaching out to grab the long appendage and feel its heft and girth.
“Yes, but you long for bigger, longer, thicker, and bigger.”
“You mentioned bigger twice.”
“I like how indignant you are.”
“Indignity is my forte.”
“No, lack of dignity is your forte.”
“Daddy, I have loads of dignity. I just prefer to be degraded in the bedroom.”
“Well, do what you do best and get on the bed, spread your legs, make yourself good and wet, and let me pound you with this monster cock.”
“I thought you’d never ask. Oh, and by the way, I’m already super wet. I have been all night.”
“The brothers?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
I do as she wishes and I have to admit that it was a little difficult to fit the bulbous bad-boy in, but once in, Lo takes all of it with grace and gratitude.
“Can I use my Hitachi?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say, since with this sleeve it’s easy for me to lean back and give her enough room to fit her Hitachi over her clit. With the sleeve on, there is significantly less sensation and I welcome the vibrations of the Magic Wand.
Within mere moments Lo is saying, “Pull out! PULL OUT! I have to squirt!”
I do as she says and an impatient stream of spray shoots out on me.
“Holy shit!” she says, as if she had never cum like that before. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe every time it feels like the first. But just as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she rolls over and says, “Take that silly thing off now and fuck me rawdog!”
I obey and begin from behind her and say, “Lo, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t even feel you. That sleeve spread you so wide.”
“Don’t you take this the wrong way,” she says over her shoulder, “but I can hardly feel you. Now fuck me like you mean it.”
I do as she commands and as I pound her from behind, all the wetness covering her ass splish-splashes with each thrust and it makes a slick slapping sound.
I continue harder and faster, hoping to register something within her, and after much striving I finally succeed. I hit my target and she cums even harder than she did the first time.
But then something I’ve never seen before happens. She literally passes out mid-orgasm. She faints from fucking. She swoons from sex. She is out cold for about three or four minutes. When she comes to, she just asks to hold me.
“What happened Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “One minute you were cumming, the next you were out cold. How much did you have to drink tonight?”
“One glass of champagne.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I swear.”
“Have you ever fainted from fucking before?”
“No Daddy. Never.”
“How do you feel?”
“Great.”
“Did you cum in me Daddy?”
“No, Lo. I didn’t cum at all.”
“Are you sure?” she asks feeling between her legs.
“Yes Lo. That’s all from you.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were wonderful.”
“But I passed out – literally on you.”
“It’s ok. I took it as a compliment.”
“You would. You have such a big ego.”
“If you’re talking about this,” I say, holding the sheath, “then you’re right. It is big. I had a big ego before, and now it’s even bigger.”
“Daddy, a man’s ego is not his cock size.”
“No. I agree. But the bigger his cock size, the bigger his ego.”
“Well, you’d better watch out. You know what they say?”
“No, what’s that?”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
“Oh? Is that how it goes? I thought it was, the harder they cum the harder they pass out.”