“I do it dirtier”

Posted on May 22, 2020 by Lola Down

[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Girlfriends.”]

Lo was just about to walk out of Suzanne’s room, finally, when Suzanne called to her, “Lo. One more thing.”

Lo turned around. Suzanne had removed the comforter from her bed and put it in Lo’s arms. “Drop this in the laundry please.”

Lo didn’t ask questions. She could feel the cum from me leaking out of her ass and also some from her earlier encounter leaking from her pussy down the inside of her thigh.

That parting word from Suzanne further exacerbated Lo’s misgivings about this newly formed “friendship.”

Lo walked down the dark hallway to the laundry area, dropped the comforter in the machine, and then began walking back towards the room we were sharing, but her return to my side got interrupted. Collin appeared from out of the darkness, holding in his hand a tumbler of scotch on the rocks.

“How’d that go?” he asked in a whisper.

After the initial fright of seeing him, Lo burst into tears in his arms and cried. To his credit, he held her and comforted her. He then led her to his room, not mine. Foiled again.

In his spacious bedroom, Lo said she wanted to shower. She repeated her performance of the previous night, stripping down in front of him and getting clean in the open-plan shower as he watched from the bed.

Just after she had turned off the water, he stood next to her holding a plush towel for her. She took it, dried off and then he held her naked body and kissed her.

“Lo, how I wish I could. . .” He trailed off. He kissed her passionately and she reciprocated. Out of force of habit or sheer lust, she removed his clothes until he was naked. She dropped down to the floor, her knees by his feet, her mouth by his flaccid cock. She remembered Suzanne’s words, “a man who pursues power.”

Lo, in her complex psychology, not only wanted to give Collin the feeling of power that his impotent phallus couldn’t provide, but, in so doing, gain the upper hand. All Lo’s life she had used her body, her sexuality, her physicality, her animalistic lust, and her intellect to dominate men. She liked the feeling of superiority that her feminine allure gave her over weak, needy, desperate men. Knowing that a simple yet mysterious glance, an inadvertent caress, an apparently careless reveal could put a man fully in her power pleased her. She didn’t have to sleep with him to experience the high of this advantage. It was satisfying enough to know her relative position vis-à-vis men without being in the physical position of dominating them. But, the sex was often an added bonus.

Perhaps that was why she not only liked or loved me, but remained with me. I was the only man who dared say no to her. I was her great challenge. And loving other men was just one of the tools she used to keep me cumming to her. Simultaneously, my permissiveness and apparent lack of jealousy and independence of her was her Everest. I knew full well that the day I forbade her her freedom, denied her her sexual denizens, or revealed any indication of my being beholden to her magical spell, that would be the day that she would move on to a bigger challenge.

I digress. Lo had found a way to build Collin’s deflated ego through the use of his droopy dick, the source of his diminished self-esteem.

Lo sat on the floor of the shower, spread her legs wide, leaned back, supporting her weight with her arms, and looked up at Collin. “Grab it,” she commanded.

“What?”

“Grab it.”

Collin reached down and held his sloping shlong in his right hand.

“Aim,” instructed Lo.

“What?”

“Point it at me and shoot.”

Now Collin caught on.

“Use it. Drench me. Disgrace me. Degrade me. Cover me in your urine. Soak me in your pee. Humiliate me in your hot piss.”

Lola began fingering her hole as Collin confidently released his stream, raining down on Lo’s head, hair, face, chest, tits, tum, and pussy.

“Come on!” she said, opening her mouth. “Just like at the amusement park.”

He got it in, filling her up until he ran out of ammunition.

Ready, Aim, Fire!

“You like that?” she asked him.

“That was. . . crazy,” he said, clearly stunned by the sloppy slut slipping and sliding on the tiles by his feet.

She slithered toward him and stretched her wet hands up his legs to his cock and took it in her mouth. No response, as she suspected. But she enjoyed it nonetheless.

She stood, rubbing her wet body against his hard body and then kissed him, open mouth, while simultaneously cupping his balls in her right hand.

“Whatever Suzanne does,” she said in an authoritative whisper, “I do dirtier.”

She knew she had him in her power now. Even if he couldn’t get it up, showing his appreciation with his rigid manhood, or cum for her like a suppliant pouring forth tribute, she knew he was hers. She had conquered her quest. She had ascended the top of Mount Bliss.

[Note from us: We are approaching the last few installments of the Mount Bliss mini-series. Have we lost you? Are you still enjoying this? We see many of you click the “like” buttons, but not many comments. Let us know your thoughts please.]

Quiver

Posted on December 15, 2019 by Lola Down

[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.”

Lola & HH

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.

Girls Just Wanna Have Cum

“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.

Thank You Daddy

Sun-Kissed

Posted on July 3, 2019 by Lola Down

A July vacation at a beach house for a week can be the perfect antidote to all of your problems. Unless that vacation is a family reunion and the beach house is for thirty people. And among those thirty people are married dads in their forties and fifties who are in good shape. And your girlfriend is Lo. Then, you might have ninety-nine problems, but Lo is the only one you have to really worry about.

That was the case this week. Every seven years or so my extended family decides that we should make a pilgrimage from all the corners of the globe, rent one enormous house on the beach with enough bedrooms and bathrooms to accommodate us all, and stay under one roof for seven days straight. We have been doing this for a few decades now, but we hadn’t had one of these since I started dating Lola.

She hadn’t met most of my family – only heard about them through various stories I told her and, to be fair, with thirty of them, I doubt that she really could tell one from the other without having met them in person. But this week, right in the middle of July, we were all going to be up-close and personal with each other. Foolishly, I hadn’t thought of warning her prior to our departure. This was my family. Did I need to warn her? Apparently so.

You see, if I do say so myself, I come from a very good looking family. My brothers and sisters and my cousins have certain family features in common – features that drive Lo wild. I’d even venture to say that, of the lot of us, I am probably the least physically attractive. My male relatives all have strong-cut jaws, expressive eyes, and the classic broad shoulder tapering to a thin waist. They are very health conscious, for many of them were athletes even through college. My female relatives share many of the same good genes that have preserved their looks into midlife. And they are married to rather attractive spouses.

Throw into this mix of middle-age men – all walking around topless, biking, kayaking, swimming, cooking, and being dads to their respective kids – a twenty something nymphomaniac with daddy issues wearing a skimpy bikini and you have just brought all sorts of wrath down upon your head. Such was my lot for a week.

It began innocently enough. We were on the beach with a few of my cousins. The sun was blazing and the waves were rough and tumble. We had our boogie boards with us and, after a beer, Lo said she wanted to ride the waves with me. We grabbed the boards and went into the refreshing water, waded out past the crashing waves and waited for the right moment. As we were out there, Lo turned to me and said, “Daddio, I’m so wet!”

“We’re in the ocean, Lo. Of course you’re wet,” I replied.

“I don’t mean like that,” she said with a devilish grin.

Before I could respond, a wave came and soon she and I were soaring towards the shore atop the white crest of the surf. Conditions were just right for multiple sorties. She looked happy, like a little girl. I had never seen her see so happy. She was grinning from ear-to-ear. What I didn’t realize, since I was next to her for most of the wet-n-wild rides, was that each and every time we caught a wave and were carried in atop the undulating surge, Lo’s bikini top would be pushed downward and, each and every time she stood up from the excursion, her breasts were popping out, wet and glistening in the sun for all my cousins to see.

I only found out about this later, when, back in the house, she got naked in the bathroom with me to take a shower. “Are you mad, Daddy?” she asked.

“Why would I be mad?” I said as I saw her perfectly tanned body before me.

“Because of my ‘accidents’ at the beach.”

“What accidents?” I asked, naively.

Then she told me about her struggles with keeping her top on her tits.

We got in the shower together and washed each other down with body-soap. It was one of those large shower/hot tubs that had a comfortable seat to sit. I told Lo to sit down below me and spread her legs. She did so, mistakenly thinking that I was going to put my cock in her mouth. She opened up to receive me, but, instead, I took aim and let lose, releasing the golden stream formed from the many beers I had had on the beach. She relished in the warm stream I doused her in, covering her tits and tum, puss and feet. When I was good and done, she pulled my hand down and reversed positions with me and, putting one foot up on the ledge, she took aim and allowed me to get it just as good as I gave it.

Then she got down on her knees on the floor of the shower and took my hard cock in her mouth, fondling my balls with her right hand as her left rested on my knee. Her long, wet, dark hair bobbed up and down under the stream of the shower. She wanted me to cum, that was clear. She worked hard to earn my ejaculatory appreciation, but I denied her the satisfaction of completion. Before she got lockjaw, we got out of the shower and dried off.

She bent over the bed, her ass beckoning me. It was my turn to get on my knees and worship her tumescent pussy lips with my tongue. She tasted sweet and I wanted more. I buried the tip of my tongue as deep as it would go in her cunt and then in her ass and back again and again. She came multiple times, her cum dripping down the sides of my mouth and saturating my beard as it streamed down my neck onto my chest. I delighted in making her so wet. Due to the cramped living quarters, she had to bite her lower lip and swallow her orgasmic screams. She buried her head in the pillow to moan and groan.

At some point I heard the sound of a radio playing from the pool area outside our window. AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” was narrating the scene.

She was a fast machine,

She kept her motor clean

They sang as I licked the smooth mons pubis of Lo from behind. She could take it no longer and she crawled forward on the bed like a wounded soldier out of the heat of battle. She rolled over, exhausted already, and spread her listless legs.

She was the best damn woman that I’d ever seen.

I slid in her pussy with my aching rod and, honestly, I couldn’t feel a thing. Just wet. So wet. At the very instant of my shaft lodging deep inside her, she came in waves – waves like those of the ocean that we were riding just a little while earlier. After her quick climax, she was suddenly filled with new energy. She rolled me over onto my back and slid her wet slit down the length of my solid pole, kneeling on top of me as she pulled and pinched her nipples. I grabber by her hips and rocked her forward and back, slishing and sliding over my hips.

She had a certain size,

Telling me no lies,

Knocking me out with those American thighs.

She came again. Again, all I could feel was wetness cascading down upon me.

She dropped her head down to bite on my neck and then she slid off of my rod slowly as her tongue slid down my chest, over my abs, eventually resting at my cock. She took it all in her mouth and down the back of her throat.

Taking more than her share,

She had me fighting for air,

She told me to cum, but I was already there.

I filled her with my pent-up power. But she wasn’t done – no, not by a longshot.

She wanted no applause,

Just another course,

Made a meal out of me,

And came back for more.

Had to cool me down

To take another round,

Now I’m back in the ring

To take another swing!

She licked and sucked, bobbed up and down, and opened wide for my balls – everything and anything she could do to get me back up and hard again. When she finally succeeded, she lowered herself slowly on me once more and grabbed me, letting her nipples gently touch mine as she let her body become enfolded in mine. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.

From her state of delirium, she began whispering in my ear.

“You know,” she said in a hushed tone, “I think your family likes me.”

“I’m sure they do,” I said.

“I mean, especially your brothers. They really like me.”

“I think they really liked what they saw.”

“And I liked what I saw.”

“What was that?” I asked as I felt her excitement increasing with the taboo things coming out of her mouth. I slowly moved my hands from her back to her thighs, to her ass cheeks, and then I pulled them, spread them, and placed my index finger on her special spot.

“They’re so built,” she said enthusiastically, “so mature.”

“You mean old.”

“Not old.”

“Older than me.”

“Yeah, but in such good shape.”

“I see,” I said, knowing where she was going. . . and liking it.

“And so big.”

“Big?” I asked as I entered her ass with my finger.

“Their cocks. Their balls. Wearing a Speedo. . .”

She couldn’t finish her thought. She was cumming and cumming harder than any of the previous times. My finger was deep inside her and I could feel her clenching up on it and releasing multiple times.

When she was done, all orgasms finally brought to fruition and her body exhausted, she said to me, “That last orgasm, it felt just like I was riding that boogie board. It felt like I was riding that wave, topless, the sea carrying me, lifting me, thrilling me, covering me with spume and salt and sun.”

“Did you cum when you were out there?”

“I think I might have, a little bit.”

“You really are a nymph, fucked by Poseidon himself.”

The Porn Identity

Posted on May 17, 2019 by Lola Down

“You are beautiful. Your eyes are beautiful. Your mouth is beautiful. Your breasts are beautiful. Your cunt is beautiful.”

I was reading a message Lo received on her phone from an admirer of the blog.

“A regular Shakespeare, that one,” I said.

“I think it’s sweet,” she responded, as her left hand began to fondle her pussy lips under the covers.

“Sweet?! He left out your hair, your nose, your neck, your shoulders, your tum, your ass, your legs, your feet, and your toes!”

“I’m sure he was going to get there,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Can I get there?” I asked, sounding a bit desperate for affection, or her attention.

“Get where?” she asked, playing with me.

“Anywhere. Between your legs, ideally.”

“Let’s see where this goes,” she said about her internet friend, unfortunately, and not about my bid for her caress.

“I know where this goes,” I said, putting her hand on my hard rod. I was hard because her internet friend had sent a slew of photos of himself jacking off to her pics and cumming all over them. She looked good in the sexy photos.

“Daddy,” she said, protesting, “I’m busy trying to please my loyal fans.”

“I don’t mind, as long as you do it while spreading your legs.”

“I’m spreading the love.”

“Can you spread the love wide enough for me to get in on it?”

“Your pussy looks pretty and gorgeous,” wrote another fan.

“It is pretty, gorgeous, wet and waiting to be filled,” she wrote back.

“Me, me!” I said, “Pick me.”

“Calm down, Daddio,” she said, full of vanity fed by her fans’ flattery.

“Tell me more about you,” wrote another internet correspondent.

“Read the books,” typed Lo, “There’s too much to tell and too many people to tell it to.”

“You’re hard, girl,” responded the inquirer.

“Funny, everyone tells me I’m easy,” quipped Lo, “and that makes them hard.”

“I love your stories,” wrote one female fan.

“H.H. writes. I inspire,” wrote Lo to her.

“Do you inspire with your body?”

“And my wit.”

“I’m inspired right now!” I said to Lo as I grabbed my cock firmly. “They all are cumming to you. Can I cum to you?”

“Cum to, on, in, with, over, under, around, beside – I provide the pussy. You pick the preposition,” she said, dismissively.

I got up on my knees and stood over her, jacking my cock.

“Just don’t cum on my phone,” she said as she continued to scroll through her contacts.

She continued to fondle herself beneath me for a while before she said, “Daddio, lie down next to me. I’ll help you.”

I lay down and she grabbed me by my shaft. “I’m your righthand man,” I said as she jacked me off with her right and scrolled with her left.

“My wife is nothing like you,” wrote one desperate, sad husband.

“You two should read our blog together. It would open up her mind. . . and pussy.”

“I could never suggest it,” he wrote, “she’d freak!”

“But you like it?” asked Lo.

“God yes,” he sighed through the medium of type.

“Tell me what a young, sexy, slutty person such as myself does for you.”

“I’d love to eat your yummy, sloppy, used, cum-filled holes,” he wrote.

“Another bard!” I opined sarcastically.

“Shut up and cum,” commanded Lo as she tugged more aggressively.

“Are you in a rush?” I asked.

“Both hands are full,” she said, “leaving nothing for my snatch.”

“I’ll happily fill that gap.”

“You stay right where you are,” she ordered.

“Has she ever caught you jacking off?” wrote Lo to her married man.

“No. It would be a big deal if she did. It would be an even bigger deal if she caught me jacking off to you and not to porn.”

“I am porn,” protested Lo.

“I mean, it’s one thing to get off to anonymous, vacuous, impersonal, professionally produced porn and it’s quite another thing to get off to you.”

“That’s more like it,” responded Lo.

“That’s it, I’m getting up and out of bed,” I said.

“But nooooo.”

“Yes. You’re just treating my cock like it a joystick to your favorite video game.”

“A game I always win.”

She continued stroking.

“Are you into length or girth?” asked her internet interloper.

“I’m into cock. And cock gets into me.”

“Once again, I must protest!” I said. “You’ve got a very capable, compatible, and coveted cock right here, but you’re not letting it into you!”

“What, ole man, my right hand isn’t enough for you?”

“Not when you’re teasing those guys about how fast and loose you like to play.”

A new fan chimed in, “I have to stop sinning. I’m religious, that’s why I can’t go on doing this.”

“Sex is spiritual. And I’m a sex goddess. Worship at my alter,” replied Lo.

“Now you’re offering theology lessons?” I chided.

“No. Just encouraging them to be good semenarians.”

“That was terrible. Low hanging fruit,” I replied.

She cupped my testicles and said, “Very low hanging.”

“Oh, does your wit never cease?!”

Now she squeezed my balls to show me that I had better be careful about mocking her.

Another woman asked Lo if she liked taboo tales. To which Lo responded, “How taboo are we talking here?”

The woman said she was into watersports and bestiality.

Lo wrote back, “Let’s knot.”

“Don’t you mean. . . oooooh, I get it,” I said.

“Woof!” she said to me.

The woman, whose name was Mila Beijne., went on to tell a little story.

I was a model a few years back and after doing a shoot I was talking a bit with the photographer, the lighting guy and his assistant. They invited me to their home. I trusted them and liked them. We were all horny and I was willing, I admit. At the photographer’s home we had some drinks and then they slowly undressed me. They got naked too. They were all good looking men and one was really hung. They kissed me everywhere and started fucking me in my mouth, pussy, and ass. I was very horny. After quite a long time, they changed positions, each taking a different hole. Then they rotated again and fucked me a long time again till I was exhausted. They filled me up in every place they could. But the fun was not over yet. One put me on the floor and the other started urinating over me. Then the other two joined in. It was a lot and all over my body and in my long hair. There was no shower, so it was a special experience driving home. It was my first time doing that and I liked how the act showed their dominance over me.

I could see Lo getting increasingly more excited as she read the short little story from Mila. She quickly wrote back, “Yeah, HH does that to me. I love it. Being below him, feeling his warm stream flow over my back and butt.”

“We haven’t done that in a while,” I reminded her.

She ignored me because another fan had written to her. This guy was old. I mean, like twenty years older than I and I’m in my 50’s! His name was Bob and he wrote:

Hi Lola, and thank you! You are an inspiration to me. I hope you can give me some advice.
I’m in my 70’s and I’ve been in a relationship for over 25 years. No passion or sex for the last 20 years. I’m at a loss as it has become impossible to talk about it with her. I’ve made the mistake of combining our lives and living situations this whole time. It has become all about her for the last several years. I feel I’m too old to begin another relationship with a woman, yet I still admire all women and all that I see on your blog. I’ve even become curious about men as I feel that may be the only way to explore my unresolved sexual fantasies. Yet I’m still conflicted as I long for an intimate relationship that I’ve missed in my life.

Do you have any suggestions??

Lola wrote back, “To tell you the truth, Bob, I’m just good wanking material, but I’m not a sex coach or a sex therapist. You might want to check out one of these trained professionals to get some expert advice on having more sex with spirit.” She provided a link. Then she added, “But if you’re looking for a real hotwife, cum to me.”

“What?!” I said to her, shocked that she’d even offer that to him.

She ignored me and typed, “I have a very soft spot for old married men whose wives no longer have sex with them. Would you like to see it?”

Of course he said yes. Lo sent him a naughty pic of the place between her legs that she was denying to me.

“Lo, that’s just cruel!” I said.

“What? Soon you’re going to be that old and you’d want the same from me. Wouldn’t you?”

“What’s cruel is that I’m that old man who is being denied right now!”

“If what I’m giving you isn’t good enough, then take matters into your own hands,” she said.

As she said it, another married man was singing her praises in a message that read, “I’ve come to worship your holy holes.”

“See,” she said, “I’ve got fans who know how to woo me.”

“Woo you? They worship you!”

“What’s the difference?”

After some flirtatious back-and-forth, Lo asked to see a pic of the man’s wife.

He asked why she wanted to see that and Lo responded, “I like to see who I’m beating out when guys are beating off to me.”

The guy sent a photo. His wife was beautiful. But apparently she lacked the ‘personality’ of Lo. He wanted to know more about Lo and he asked her questions.

“I’m like an open book, there for anyone to read,” she responded, “You just have to know where to find me. Are you familiar with the Dewey Decimal system?”

“Like, in the library?”

“Yeah.”

“So, I can find you in my local library?”

“If only,” wrote Lo, “I’m indexed under XXX.”

“As in 30?” he wrote with a winkface emoji. “Still pretty young.”

“Pretty, young, and slutty. I’ll tell you what, you can virtually finger my folios at: mysexlifewithlola.com,” she said, “and you can also buy the books there. I suggest you get a few copies of each and donate the extras to your local library so everyone can spread my centerfold for free.”

As Lo was typing, she guided my cock to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the tip. She looked up at me as her hand continued to glide back and forth from the base to her mouth. I began to cum and she hungrily held me in place so as not to spill a drop. I was so worked up that I couldn’t control my convulsions. I began breathing deep, heavy breaths. Lo looked up at me and said, “What?! Are you having a stroke?”

When I finally managed to catch my breath, I looked down at her and said, “Yeah, I’m having a stroke. A really good stroke.”

Lo wrote a final line to her fans: “Good night all you kinky sexy rogues. Dream of me in your debauched nocturnal thoughts.”

She put her phone down, grabbed her Hitachi, lay back, shut her eyes, and began vibrating until she was the one violently convulsing, squirting, and gasping for air.

When she was done and had removed the Magic Wand from between her legs, she grabbed my hand and placed it on her bare pussy for me to feel how wet she was. She’s proud that she can turn on the tap almost at will.

“Pull my pussy lips, Daddy,” she said. I stretched them. “Harder.” I pulled more. “Harder Daddy,” she complained.

“Lo, if I pull them any further they’ll be down to your knees.”

“Try it,” she said. She likes the pain or pleasure.

As I pulled I asked her, “What were you thinking about when you came?”

“I think about you.”

This line from her was as false as Marlow telling Kurtz’s betrothed that Kurtz’s last words were her name.

“OK, that’s enough of that,” I said, calling bullshit. “What did you really think about?”

“I think about you,” she said. “And I think about cock. I think about a lot of cock.”

“That’s it?”

“And pussy.”

I gave up there knowing that the litany of licentious thoughts could go on endlessly. I sat silently and she mistook my silence for judgment.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be me!” she blurted out defensively.

“Oh yeah, you’ve got it so hard,” I said sarcastically.

“I wish,” she said even more sarcastically as she lifted up my flaccid member in her hand.

“You know,” I said, “your porn persona and your personality are not consistent.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All those people out there thinking you’re a nymphomaniac, thinking that I am so inundated with your pussy that I barely can find a moment’s peace, yet the reality is that you denied me just now.”

“There’s no inconsistency.”

“How not?”

“Because I know you’re going to write about this and so it will be part of my porn persona.”

Cliterotica

Posted on March 15, 2019 by Lola Down

[In honor of all our friends, such as Cara, Hy, Catherine, and of course, Michael & Molly, who are attending Eroticon this weekend, a little fantasy of what we envision our attending it to be like. Hopefully next year.]

“LOLA” – her name lit up the marquee. As we approached the theater from the street, slick from the recent rain, Lo looked up and said, “Big, bright, beautiful, and inviting. That’s me alright!”

We were in England for the annual Literotica convention and somehow we were the headline event for this evening’s performances. Lo was giddy with excitement.

Entering the theater from the side door for performers, there was a flurry of activity backstage. Everyone was primping and preparing. Lo, herself, had tried on three different outfits and five different pairs of shoes before settling on the glittery gold sequin top, the slinky green skirt, and the flashy four-inch heels. “Green and gold,” I said, “the colors of money.”

We were there to do a reading and book signing, but Lo had plans for oh so much more than that. Her Marina Abramovic performance-art streak was activated and she had conspired with me to put on a show. We were to be a Penn & Teller style duet. She’d be Penn, the showman, and I’d be Teller, the silent sidekick. She had her props: a little wooden lectern on which she put the book, some paints, paint brushes, markers, and a sign. The sign read:

Match, Vol. I – $35

Match, Vol. II – $20

Match, Vol. III – $20

Complementary with your purchase:

Squeeze

Tease

Pull

Paint

Draw

Write

Kiss

Suck

Cum

NOT ALLOWED:

Penetration of any sort

Photos

(Mild BDSM is ok)

All prices USD

After the opening acts, we were introduced to a loud round of applause. I got butterflies in my stomach and I’m sure Lo did as well. We took our places on the otherwise empty wooden stage under the hot spotlights. I stood next to Lo at the lectern with three stacks of books and my portable credit card swipe device plugged into my phone.

Lo opened the books to the places she had specially chosen for this event and read some select passages: The preface to Vol I, penned by her; the encomium to the color red; a few poems. As she read each passage in her sweetly seductive voice, she slowly removed first one and then the other strap of her blouse and let it fall, revealing her breasts. She then wriggled out of both the blouse and her skirt until she stood stark naked but for her sexy heels. The poems were read in the buff.

When she was done the music began – selections of songs mentioned in the books. I invited the audience members who had pre-purchased books to step up and have Lola sign them while they each took a turn participating in one of the activities mentioned on Lo’s sign.

The first ones in line were a bit shy and timid. They ventured a kiss or a gentle tug on Lo’s nipples while she leaned over to sign one of the gloss nude photographs of her in the book. A few others took up the Sharpie pen and wrote love notes to Lo on various parts of her body. Some wrote “Slut” or “hotwife” or “cum here” with an arrow pointing to her puss.

As the audience saw the performance taking place, those without books were eager to get in line and I began selling our inventory. Men took out their cocks and began stroking as they eagerly awaited their turn in line.

Some of them stroked it next to Lola as she signed the books and wrote cute comments about the men’s anatomy in the margins.

The first man to cum did so on Lo’s feet, filling up her shoes with warm jizz.

The next man to cum had a powerful ejaculation and managed to hit Lo’s tits with remarkable aim. He even got a bit of applause!

A woman was in line and she gave Lo a very warm kiss on the lips and then slid her tongue down Lo’s neck to her glazed breasts and cleaned off the previous customer’s cumtribution.

This performance went on for some time, until we sold out of all our books!

Unfortunately for Lo, all of this fun foreplay was merely a tantalizing orgasm tease. She whispered in my ear and I briefly disappeared off stage to grab Lo’s favorite toy from one of the event sponsor’s display: The Hitachi Magic Wand. We plugged it into an extension cord and I brought the large, white device to Lo who proceeded to use it on her clit while sitting in a high stool. She spread her legs and, within only a few moments filled with tension and anticipation, Lo finally gushed with an torrential outpour of emotion, release, and fluid that covered the stage.

After her grand finale, some stage hands appeared at Lo’s side with warm, wet towels and they cleaned her off. One of them gently removed Lo’s feet, one at a time, from her shoes and wiped them down. Another person mopped the wooden floor. Once Lo was cleaned off, she got dressed again and we walked off the stage. Before exiting, though, Lo took a long bow, but not to the audience, but to the wings of the stage, thus giving the audience one last look up her skirt.

Congratulations were showered on Lo and me from our fellow literotica friends and authors and we got ready for the afterparty.

Her Porn Addiction

Posted on January 3, 2019 by Lola Down

How deep, how dark, how degraded, just how far down the rabbit hole of porn do you go?

Lola and I had a wedding to attend. Yes, another wedding. I couldn’t find my nice black leather shoes. They weren’t in the closet. They weren’t under my side of the bed. So I looked under Lo’s side of the bed – yes, that side where she keeps her dildos, vibrators, anal beads, and other pornographic paraphernalia. I knew I was entering dangerous territory, but what choice did I have? So I began methodically opening all the brown shoeboxes, discovering that there were no shoes to be had, but only the mechanical instruments of female pleasure.

But then I came across it – the one box that was heavier than the others. In it was not a pair of men’s shoes, but rather four or five books – all related to sex. Among them, Erica Garza’s Getting Off. There wasn’t much time. I had to pack and be ready to go to the airport in a matter of minutes. I grabbed the small volume and resolved that I’d just have to wear my brown belt and brown shoes to the wedding.

The flight was five hours, coast-to-coast. Lo was exhausted because we flew the redeye after a long day at work. She fell asleep on my shoulder as I used the time to read the book cover-to-cover. There were certain pages marked with dog-ears and certain sentences underlined. Almost all of them had to do with becoming inured to “conventional” porn and seeking every more degrading and debased images and scenarios. One passage read:

My preferences were changing all the time. I loved ‘old and young’ clips. I’d also taken a liking to watching drunken girls get walked around on leashes or fucked by groups of men. . . . I’d discovered the category of ‘bukkake’ and felt simultaneously disgusted and excited every time I watched multiple men come all over a girl’s face. . . .

I wondered about Lo and her late-night phone usage. What depraved, debauched, dissolute, degenerate, dangerous and deviant electronic alleyways had my dear Lo followed that she should be so interested in these passages? I was well aware of her penchant for multiple penises, how pee piqued her curiosity, her prurient interest in punishment, her salacious soliloquies on slut faming (the opposite of “slut shaming”), not to mention her downright dirty devotion to diddling while dreaming of bestial bullocks. But had her fantasies, obsessions, and external stimuli ventured beyond these already extreme bounds? I was in the dark. I looked over at my delectable sleeping nymph by my side and pondered the extent of her perversity. I recalled how years ago on a similar redeye transpacific flight she had utilized a highlighting marker as a dildo and got herself off in the crowded cabin as most of the passengers slept. I would be fooling myself if I didn’t admit that these indiscretions were at least part of why I loved her so.

We suddenly hit some turbulence on our descent and Lo awoke from her slumber suddenly. She saw me reading her book and asked, “What’s that?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

She sat up. Recognizing the book, she asked, “Where’d you find that?”
“I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t with my black shoes.”

Slowly an expression of cognition appeared on her face. “Oh,” she said, conveying everything.

I flipped through the pages showing her each and every passage that she underlined.

“That’s private!” she said as she pulled the book from my hands.

“Is that so?”

We landed and Lola tucked the book into her bag as we deplaned.

We walked through the busy terminal and I said, “It was quite a read. Did you like it?”

“Some parts,” she said. “What did you like about it?” she asked.

“I liked that it reminded me of you. Why didn’t you tell me you were reading it?”

“Because, you don’t need that book or any book like it,” she said, obviously referencing the other illicit tomes in the shoebox. “You have me,” she said, putting her thumb to her chest, “and I’m all the sex-addicted, porn-watching, nympho you can handle.”

“That’s true,” I said as I dodged people rushing for their departing flights. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” she asked, talking past all the commuters.

“What porn have you been using to get off lately?”

“Define lately?”

We were outside in the sunshine and we found the taxi stand. We hopped in and told the driver our destination. In the backseat we continued our conversation.

“Look,” I said, pulling the book out of her bag and opening to the passage quoted above, “why is this underlined? Have you been seeking out something. . .”

“You know, already. I like bukkake, dirty old men like you fucking young beautiful women like me, facials, BDSM, female humiliation porn.”

I looked up and saw the taxi driver look at me and then at Lo through the rearview mirror.

“And?” I asked.

“And what?”

“Bestiality?” I whispered under my breath.

“Yeah, so what? You already knew that.”

“What else?”

“You know it all already.”

“Do I?”

“Well, I also like seeing big, hung men fucking fat women or big fat men fucking sexy thin women. I like cumming to gangbangs, machines fucking women incessantly, and also sensual massages.”

“So, basically everything you’ve ever done?”

“You could say that.”

We got to our destination and I paid the taxi driver in cash, giving him a generous tip on top of the juicy conversation he got to listen to on the way.

“You enjoyed that,” I said.

“Enjoyed what?” she asked coyly.

“You know what. Saying all those filthy things in front of complete strangers.”

“Did I embarrass you?”

“No, but you are a loose cannon.”

“I’m loose alright. And that reminds me, I also love to watch women with large labia and saggy tits.”

“I bet you do,” I said. “I have an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t we go inside and fuck to my favorite porn.”

Her tongue licked her sparkling white teeth in anticipation and she asked, “What would that be?”

“I bet you could think of a few possibilities, but I’m not going to ask you to suggest anything and I’ll just come out with it.”

“I hope so,” she said, grabbing my crotch.

“My favorite porn is fucking you from behind as we both are looking at ourselves in a full-length mirror.”

“Mine too,” she said as we got in the hotel room.

Once we were in the room, we immediately stripped and I bent her over the dresser as we both looked into each other’s eyes reflected in the mirror above it. I pulled out my throbbing rod, what she once called a “Truth Stick,” and slid deep inside her as she moaned with pleasure. Once I had pinned her hips between my crotch and the corner of the dresser, I put her to the test.

“What else?”

“What else what?” she asked.

“What are the kinds of porn you didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, Daddy, please.”

I pulled back as her cunt squeezed my cock right out of her and she squirted on my bare feet. I thrusted forward again, mounting her.

“Tell me.”

“Daddy,” she pleaded.

“If you want this, then you’ll speak,” I threatened, temporarily removing my pleasure pole from her wet snatch.

“NO!” she said.

I was confused at first. No, I’m not telling or. . . .

“No, don’t pull out. Deep. Deep. Please,” she continued. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

“What gets you off?”

She looked up at the mirror and into my eyes that were watching the expression on her face. She couldn’t tell me while our eyes were locked. She dropped her head and her thick mane of hair covered it as her tits flopped forward and back with each thrust of my cock.

“OK,” she said in a tone of defeat. “I like seeing my guy fans send pics of themselves to me wearing sexy women’s panties. I like to see them hard-up for me in those sheer lace panties. I like to see them cum in them. I like them to cum to me, to my pics, to your dirty stories of me.”

Saying this, she came.

“What else?” I knew she wasn’t done. Not by a longshot.

“I like seeing women diddle themselves to me.”

“I knew that.”

“I like to see pregnant women get fucked hard. I like to see women with giant bulging breasts and huge round nipples lactating. I like to see lesbians sucking those huge tits, sucking the milk out of them. I like to see women being milked like cows.”

She came a second time.

“Keep going,” I commanded.

“There’s not a deep, dark, dank corner of the internet I haven’t explored. I’ve searched it all. You name it: sex with aliens; gay men masturbating to my pics; couples having sex while watching me; teacher/student sex.”

I wanted her to continue, but at this point all her limbs went limp and she collapsed in the puddle she had made on the carpeted floor. The orgasm was still causing convulsions and tremors through her flesh.

I let her lay there on the ground like a limp, wet pile of towels as I sat on the bed, my cock in my hands. I watched her as she gradually regained consciousness. She crawled across the floor to the space between my knees. She looked up at me. Her lips quivered as she tried to speak.

“That,” she said in a raspy whisper, “was fucking a-mazing.”

Sherry Rain

Posted on December 9, 2018 by Lola Down

I looked down and I saw Lola’s finger gently stroking Stoya’s pussy. She slid her wet finger up and down the soft labia and then gently inserted one, then two fingers deep inside. “You like this, Daddy? You want to fuck her pussy?” she asked. I did, but for the moment I was enjoying the view as I held my cock in my hands.

Now, allow me to tell you how we arrived at that supremely sexy moment.

It was late August. Lo and I packed up our big cooler full of beers, G&T, and various snack items: salsa, hummus, cheeses. We had a picnic basket full of chips, pita bread, pretzels, and basically everything you could want as an appetizer, but no meal.

We got on the road early. We knew that the parking spots at the beach would fill up quick since the weather forecast for that Saturday was so perfect and we knew that there wouldn’t be many more opportunities to get to the ocean this summer.

All the way out there, Lo was in high spirits. In summer she loves three things: heat, beach, and picnic baskets. Well, and sex. Don’t forget the sex. I just like seeing her in her bikini (and out of her bikini).

We got there just in time to get one of the few remaining spots in the parking lot and I carried the heavy stuff while Lo rolled the cooler. We set up the chairs and umbrella, spread out the beach blanket, and I pulled out a book and sat in the chair surveying the area while Lo lay spread eagle on the blanket.

“On the B.P.?” Lo asked me. That’s our abbreviation for either “Beach Patrol,” or, more accurately, “Butt Patrol.”

There were a few couples around us, but we were in the mostly vacant far end of the beach, away from the crowds and screaming children.

The hours spent soaking up the sun sped by as Lo and I sipped our cold drinks and nibbled on the provisions. I got a good chunk of reading done, swam a few times when I got too hot to bake any longer, and enjoyed seeing Lo apply and reapply her sunscreen.

When the sun was low on the horizon, Lo and I packed up our temporary home in the sand, put it all in the trunk and then headed off to one of our favorite restaurants, right on the water.

We walked up to the rooftop bar and, though it was crowded, we managed to snag the last high-top table for two overlooking the blue water below and the sunset in the distance. It was perfect. We were famished and already feeling the effects of day-drinking while sunbathing.

We ate our meal as the band played “Margaritaville” and other classic summer songs. Lo’s feet kept rubbing up on my legs. I could tell what she was hungry for now and I was eager to get her home to feed it to her.

We paid the bill and just as we stood to leave, we heard someone from the next table say, “Oh, don’t go yet!” Was that directed at us? I turned around and saw two women sitting at one of the other high-top tables. Rather than sit across from one another, as Lo and I had been sitting in order to see each other, they both sat on one side of the small table and they were looking at us. My back was to them the whole time, but had Lo seen them? I don’t know.

“What?” I asked, politely, but a bit defensively.

“Don’t go yet,” one of them repeated. Apparently they enjoyed looking at us.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Never mind her,” said the other woman in a deeper voice, “we’ve been here all day and now she’s drunk.”

“I am not!” the first protested.

“Whatever,” said the second.

We were in no hurry, we had been together all day, and something about these two women appealed to us (or appealed to our vanity), so we took a seat on the other side of the table. We began with introductions. The taller, deeper voiced woman was Sherry and the smaller, sandy-haired woman’s name was Rain. They were a couple. They had been together for about a year and they admitted to watching the two of us.

We ordered another round of drinks, even though Lo and I had already settled up for our dinner.

“You have amazing tits,” said Rain. She was either less reserved than Sherry, or much more drunk. I couldn’t tell since I knew them not at all.

Lo almost blushed, but not quite. She was still in her bikini top and shorts.

“She has a great ass too,” I chimed in.

“I bet,” said Rain, liking her lips. The gesture reminded me of Lo’s trademark move and when I looked over at Lo, it was like a mirror reflection of Rain. They clearly had chemistry. I looked at Sherry whose poker face was inscrutable. Did she enjoy the flirting, as I did, or resent it? Was this just another night out for this interesting couple, or was Rain playing a dangerous game?

No matter, it wasn’t my relationship at stake.

We continued drinking and finding out more about the two of them. Rain was a yoga instructor. Sherry worked in finance. An odd couple, for sure.

The band continued to play and at some point after we had had another round or two, they played Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds.”

“I love this song!” Rain informed us as she jumped off her barstool and grabbed Lo’s hand saying, “Dance with me,” as she almost dragged her onto the dancefloor. The two of them swayed back and forth and Rain put her hands on Lo’s hips as Lo put her arms around Rain’s waist. I could see their lips moving, but not hear what they said. I realized that I wasn’t the only one watching them. Not only were the other folks in the bar glued to these two long-haired, sexy beach babes dancing, but Sherry was also eyeing them closely. I decided to use the opportunity of our being mutually abandoned to try to understand what was going on for her.

“She always this friendly?” I asked.

A tense smile hid her frustration. “Rain? She’s a very free spirit,” she said. It was meant to sound like a compliment, but it came across as a complaint.

“Same with Lo,” I said, genuinely, “that’s why I love her so.”

She smiled again and I decided to lighten the mood a bit. “You have great teeth.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised, clearly not used to being complimented, “thanks.”

One little observation goes a long way. After that, she really opened up to me, telling me more about her and Rain.

The band played another song and Lo and Rain kept dancing. I saw Rain move her hand to Lo’s butt, over her denim shorts. Their bodies moved closer together, their steps smaller.

Sherry told me that this was her first relationship with a woman. She was newly divorced. She had two kids – teenagers. They were very conflicted about everything. I could see that either their emotions reflected her own or she was projecting. She and Rain had only been together about a year and a half. Rain had never been with a man, but was fascinated by men. . . and afraid of them.

Sherry was just as intoxicated as Rain, I realized, only she hid it better. She hid, or tried to hide, a lot of things. She went on to tell me that she’s often caught Rain masturbating to porn of guys jackin’ it and cumming. “She’s fascinated by guys ejaculating,” she said as if it was the most bizarre thing for a lesbian to be curious about. “She watches it again and again.”

Lo and Rain came back from the dance floor.

“At least someone dances with me,” Lo said, jibing me for my reluctance to set foot on any dance floor.

“At least someone talks to me,” I said, looking at Sherry.

“Oh yeah,” asked Rain, “what were you two talking about?”

“If I tell you,” I said, “you’ll tell me how nice Lo’s ass is.”

“Deal!” she said.

I looked at Sherry and saw real fear in her eyes. Of course I wasn’t going to publicize her intimate revelation. “We were just talking about Shelly’s kids and how quickly they grow up.”

“I know! Right?” said Rain, “When I met them, I was taller than both of them. But now they’re both this tall,” she said, putting her hand above her head by a foot.

Sherry looked relieved.

We talked some more, got some appetizers and more beer. Lo and I opened up about our special relationship. When Rain heard that I’m not allowed to have the same freedoms as Lo, she suddenly became more interested in me. It was as if being off limits was a dare for her, a challenge, a goal. She was now openly flirting with both Lo and me.

I completely lost track of time, but I knew we had a long drive home. We got the check, exchanged numbers, and said that we all need to come back here again together before the summer was over.

We walked downstairs and out onto the sidewalk. Their destination was the opposite direction from ours. Lo gave a hug to Sherry as I went in to give a goodbye hug to Rain, but to my great astonishment, rather than a hug, Rain’s lips came in right for mine. This was no little, polite peck goodnight, but an open-mouthed kiss, full of lips-on-lips and tongue exploration. She hugged me close and squeezed and the thought occurred to me that she was squeezing me as she wanted to be squeezed.

When our embrace ended, I furtively looked over to Lo to see just how much trouble I was in now. But Lo was busy talking with Sherry. Had either of them seen what just went down? Then Lo came over to Rain to give her a very proper and polite hug goodbye while I hugged Sherry. There were no hard feelings, or at least none that I could detect.

Lo and I began walking along the dimly lit sidewalk next to the dark beach. In our spirited conversation with the women, apparently Lo forgot the most important thing to do before departing a bar.

“Daddy,” she said, “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“What?”

“I have to pee. So bad.”

“Well, let’s go back. You can. . .”

She cut me off. “No,” she said, “why should we go all the way back when we have all the beach to ourselves?”

“What?” I asked, astonished as I saw Lo walk onto the sandy beach, pull down and remove her shorts but leaving on her bikini bottoms as she stuck out her bum like she was grinding into the invisible groin of someone in a dance club.

“Are you peeing?” I asked in disbelief.

“Come here and I’ll show you,” she said, grabbing my wrist, pulling my hand between her legs so I could feel the drips as they seeped through her bottoms.

“Lo,” I gasped, “you’re bad!”

“You love it,” she said. “You know you do.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“OK,” she said, “let’s go.”

She grabbed me so we walked arm-in-arm and she sashayed down the sidewalk.

“Feel better, dear?”

“Much,” she said. “Feel hard, dear?” she asked as she reached over to feel my cock under my bathing suit. “Oh yeah,” she said, answering her own question, “you feel hard alright.”

She wasn’t wrong.

We got to the car and I got in, but I called to Lo before she got in. “Hey, you plan on taking off your bottoms?”

“What?”

“Your bottoms. Do you plan on taking them off?”

“Here? On the street?”

“Yes here, on the street. You certainly don’t plan on sitting on my car seat like that do you?”

“Like what, Daddy?” she asked innocently.

“Drenched in pee.”

“Drenched in pee?! What are you talking about?”

“Your little trinkle on the beach.”

“What?”

“You honestly don’t remember?”

“No. Is that why I’m all wet? I just thought I was really horny. I mean, I am really horny, but is that why I’m wet?”

“Yes. So strip.”

“This sounds like a fun ride,” she said as she dropped her bikini bottoms onto the sidewalk, threw them in the trunk, and got in the car.

I started up the engine and she reached over to grab my cock. “Do you want me to straddle you, Daddy?” she asked.

“No, Lo, I’m driving home.”

“Can I blow you?”

“No.”

“Hand job?”

“No.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do for this long ride home?” she asked as she put her bare feet up on the dashboard, spreading them to make a ‘V’ of her legs. “Just look at what you’ve got here,” she said as she slapped her cleanly shaved pussy.

She put the seat all the way back and reclined it as far as it would go, keeping her feet up on the dash as she began massaging her pussy. But within mere moments she was sound asleep next to me.

We got home and I roused her. It took a great deal of effort, but I finally got her out of the car and up the stairs of our apartment building, all butt naked.

Once in our apartment she crawled into bed. Now she was waking up.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” she said, spreading her legs.

“Lo, you’re beyond the ability to consent.”

“No I’m not, Daddy,” she protested. “Don’t you want me?”

“I sure do, but I’m not having you,” I replied.

“Please?”

“No.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to take things into my own hands,” she said, pulling out her dildo from under the bed and swiftly inserting it between her legs.

“If you’re going to do that,” I countered, “then I’m going to have some fun too. You’re not the only one with toys anymore.”

I rummaged through the closet and found my Stoya Fleshlight.

“No, Daddy! You wouldn’t dare!” she cried, still masturbating. “You wouldn’t have her when you could have me, would you?”

“Lo, I’m not having you.”

She grabbed Stoya from my hands and began touching her pussy lips.

“You can lubricate her for me, if you want,” I said.

She put out her hand and took some lube from the bottle as I squeezed it into her palm.

She stroked the pussy gently as I held my love organ in my hands.

“You like fingering her?” I asked.

No response.

“Are you thinking of Rain right now?”

“How’d you know?” she asked.

I was standing next to the bed as I watched all of this happening. Then Lo slid so that her legs were dangling off the side of the bed. With one hand she kept the dildo rhythmically fucking her pussy and with the other hand she slid Stoya’s pussy over my rock-hard cock.

“You like that, Daddy?”

Now I didn’t answer.

She went back and forth with the Fleshlight, fucking my cock with it as she fucked herself with her dildo.

“That’s it, Daddy, fuck her. Fuck her like you’d fuck me,” she said until she squirted all over the wood floor next to the bed. At the sight of her ejaculation, I grabbed Stoya with both hands and fucked Stoya hard and fast. Lo reached down, underneath and held my balls. She likes to feel them contract when I ejaculate. I came and came a lot inside Stoya.

After we cleaned everything up, Lo lay in my arms. She fell right to sleep. I held her and thought of the sound of the waves gently rolling over the silent sand of the beach in the moonlight.

Bimbos, Bubble-butts, and Blowjobs

Posted on September 2, 2018 by Lola Down

Our day at the beach for a vacation fantasy cum true didn’t quite pan out the way Lola had envisioned it. We didn’t make it to the nude beach, but we did find a lovely stretch of semi-private secluded sand where we could lay out and enjoy the sun and sea. But, much to Lo’s consternation, soon after we had parked our payload of the day’s provisions and set up camp, a gaggle of girls moved in on our unofficial quadrant of beach and set up their site immediately adjacent to ours. This wouldn’t have been unwelcome if it were a handful of hunky men that Lo could tease and tempt all day, but that was not the case. It was five college age women in the skimpiest of thongs, showing off their bubble-butts for each other, and, I can only assume, since I was the only male on the strand, for my viewing pleasure. This latter fact perturbed Lo to no end.

Not only did these women have the nerve to spread out (in every sense of the term) in our line of vision, but they spent a good deal of the time taking selfies, posing for each other’s pics, doing ridiculous stretches for the camera, and slapping each other’s butts. The height of indiscretion came when, as Lo and I were walking past them to take a dip, one of them stopped me and asked if I would take a photo of their entire crew lined up by the water so that they could have a group photo. I knew that acquiescing to this polite request would put me in Lo’s bad graces, but proper etiquette demanded that I oblige. So I took a few snaps of the ladies and then ran to catch up with Lo who was ankle deep in the water.

“Having fun?” she asked in her sarcastic tone.

“Lo, I didn’t invite them to join us here. This wasn’t my plan. I didn’t ask to take their photo. They approached me.” All of this was true and she knew it, yet I sounded as guilty as if I were a five-year-old caught with my hand in the cookie jar trying to say, “It wasn’t me.”

Despite all the facts being on my side, that was no alibi in the eyes of the law; that is, in Lo’s very green eyes with which she judged me. The true crime, as she saw it, had nothing to do with those facts, but with her perception, right or wrong, that I enjoyed the facts as they were. For that, there was no excuse and no punishment harsh enough.

The water was a little cold, but that was nothing as compared to the cold shoulder Lo was showing me. I didn’t know how I was going to get out of such a predicament.

“Look,” she said to me, “if you want me to wear a dental floss thong bikini, I will. Just say the word.”

“Word.”

“I hate you,” she said, kicking the water and splashing me.

“You said to. . .”

It didn’t matter. I realized that we were no longer in the realm of reason. This was pure emotion and trying to explain anything was futile.

“Let’s go for a walk,” I suggested. I took her hand, which she reluctantly allowed, and we strolled through the small waves.

We got about a quarter mile down the beach in silence and then I said, “Lo, you’re the only one for me. You and you alone.”

“Then why do you look at those floozies?”

I could have explained that sitting on the beach, looking out at the horizon, only to have that vista invaded by almost bare bottomed, big breasted bimbos was not “looking” at them, but something much more passive. However, again, that would be an appeal to reason, logic, and facts, none of which were going to aid me in this argument.

“I’m looking at you. I’m with you. I want you.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Trick question. Why usually evokes a causal explanation. Not here. Not now.

“I love you, Lo. You’re the only woman I love. No one else is you. You are the only you I know and that’s the person I love.” I was sincere.

Hearing those words, she leaned in for me to hug her. I gave her what she wanted. I held her tight. It was a tender moment, but it also aroused me. Feeling her flesh on mine, holding her body close to me as the water curled around our feet, I was eager to have her. I could feel she was eager to have me too. I pulled at the string of her bikini top. I untied it. It fell to the ground between us. I slid her out of her bikini bottoms. She willingly lifted her legs out of them. I grabbed the top and the bottoms in my hand so they wouldn’t float away.

We were alone on the beach and I kissed her and held her. My mouth slid down her neck to her breasts. I dropped to my knees. I kissed her soft belly. I kissed my way down to her smooth, supple pussy as my arms wrapped around her and held her ass. The waves washed up on my hips and torso. I kissed her gentle kisses around her pale, white triangle.

She just kept saying, “Daddy, daddy, daddy.”

She then slid down onto her knees and motioned for me to stand. The waves were washing up between her legs, splashing on her pink pussy lips. She pulled down my bathing suit and pulled out my hard rod. She kissed it and caressed it, licked it and devoured it with her open mouth. In and out she bobbed it as one hand held it firm and the other rubbed her pussy. She continued until I came on her, raining down white froth like the white foam of the sea that was between her legs. On her face, lips, tongue, tits, tum, and legs it poured forth. She loved it.

“Come here,” she said. I crouched down next to her. “Kiss me,” she commanded.

I leaned in and kissed her with an open mouth. As our tongues twirled, she pulled my naked body close to hers, pulling us both down into the water.

Then she released me. Her hands were between her legs and she was fondling herself. She quickly diddled and fingered herself until she came, squirting into the churning sea.

The two of us took a quick swim in the ocean to wash off. She held me close as we swam and she said, “I’m your slut, Daddio, and don’t you forget it.”

“Lo, you’re the only slut for me and don’t you forget it.”

When we walked back to the beach blanket and chair we had set up, the group of gals saw us walking hand-in-hand. Had they seen what had transpired not long ago? Who knows. But they looked on Lo admiringly and with jealousy. She was dismissive of their gaze. I had my right hand down her bikini bottoms, holding her ass as we passed the gaggle of girls. I could practically hear their judgments, “What an old perv. What a little slut. Why the hell is she with him? He’s old enough to be her father.” Never mind that they all were vying for my attention only a little while earlier.

The girls pulled out their Kindles and other devices and were reading quietly as I sat there reading my book, looking over at them every once-in-a-while. Lo drifted off to sleep. The girls had all gone down to the water for a dip. Lo woke up and said she was famished and wanted to get lunch. I was all for that. We packed up our stuff and we were about to walk back to the car when I said, “Wait just a minute,” to Lo. I put the chair and blankets I was carrying down and ran over to the girls’ abandoned camp. I found one of the devices. No password. Great!

After a moment or two, I returned to Lo.

“What did you do?” she asked suspiciously.

“I’ll tell you later.”

At lunch, she said to me, “OK, it’s later. What did you do?”

“You might be mad.”

“I’ll definitely be mad if you don’t tell me.”

“Well, in that case,” I said, enjoying the suspense.

“Out with it!”

“It wasn’t anything too bad. I simply went on her iPad and directed it to a certain website.”

“Which website?” Lo asked, already knowing the answer.

“One that will teach them what love is.”

“Which one would that be?”

“One that will show them what true beauty is.”

“I’m waiting.”

“Just a good erotic read.”

“Let me guess: mysexlifewithlola.com.”

I put my index finger to the tip of my nose.

“You didn’t!”

“I most certainly did. Are you upset?”

“Yes.”

“I knew you would be.”

“I’m upset because I wish we could have been there to see the look on their faces when they scroll through all that smut.”

“You wicked vixen!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re coming after us right now.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were cumming to us right now.”

“You’re probably right.”

My Love is a Red Red Rosebud

Posted on February 14, 2018 by Lola Down

“I’m so fat!” she decried as she stood in her bikini looking in the mirror at her reflection.

“You say that like fat is a bad thing,” I said with a smile.

“Shut up.”

“What? All I’m saying is I like some meat on your bones. You always tell me how much you like my meat and to bone.”

She threw a pillow at me. “You’re tapping into my greatest insecurity.”

“Your weakness is your strength,” I replied.

“Your weakness is me.”

“I know. I know. Lola, you’re my Kryptonite. I’m the Man of Steel. But after being around you I go soft as a Slinky. But seriously,” I said, “come here.”

She walked to me like a child who had just been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She stood in front of me. I grabbed and kissed the small bulge above her bikini line.

“Stop it! You know I hate that!”

“But I love it. It’s so sexy.”

“I have to work on my beach body.”

“I’m working on my beach-ball body.”

“We both should exercise.”

“Exercise?! Are you kidding me? I just heard about a forty-year-old man who dropped dead – DEAD! – while on the treadmill. Oh no. Not for me, thank you.”

“What are you talking about? He probably had a preexisting condition. He probably had heart problems or was overweight.”

“That’s proof! Proof that exercise is bad for you. Positively lethal!”

“That’s not proof.”

“All I’m saying is that you never hear of a perfectly healthy forty-year-old man dying on his couch while reading a book.”

“Give me a break!” she said, throwing her arms in the air.

Lo and I went down to the pool of the hotel.

It was Valentine’s Day, we were on vacation in a warm-weather city, and Lo was looking like one sweet-tart.

Lo thought that, as usual, I had failed to make any plans for V-Day. There she was wrong.

After some hours by the pool where she only got jealous of the other bikini babes walking past me, lounging in the reclining chairs, or dangling their feet in the water, we both were hungry and, after changing, I surprised her for the first time that day by actually having a lunch destination suggestion.

“Chinese?!” she questioned, both skeptical and disappointed.

We drove through the grid of the city to the special Chinese restaurant I had scoped out. This wasn’t just your average Chinese joint; it was a newly opened, chic, “Asian-fusion” place simply called Red that was all the rage.

Luckily, Lo was impressed.

After our meal, Lo’s Fortune Cookie read: “Emotion is energy in motion” and I added “in bed.”

When we got back to the car, a compact, two-seater, Lo laughed as she got in.

“What?” I asked, curious as to what she found so amusing.

“Nothing,” she replied, enigmatically.

“I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you later, when you’re older.”

“Lo, I’m older now. I’ll always be older. So, out with it.”

“Where are we going now, Daddio?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. . . some dive bar.”

“That should be easy enough,” I said as I got the car started and, put the top down, and pulled out into the busy road by the beach.

No sooner had we gotten stuck in the see-and-be-seen crowd of the resort road, than Lo leaned back with one high-heel shod foot dangling seductively over the edge of the door and the other up on the dash as she flashed me, venting up her skirt in the warm, humid, sea-salty air.

“Lo, you’re doing it again?”

“Doing what, Daddio?”

“Flashing in public.”

“Am I? But we’re in the privacy of our own vehicle.”

“Lo,” I said, as I gave her a side-long glance, trying to focus on traffic.

“You like, Daddio?” she asked.

That night I surprised even myself by having dinner reservations, chocolate, cupcakes, roses, and a card all lined up. Good job, HH. I congratulate you. When we got to the red rented convertible, I popped the top down and looked in the back seat, saying to Lo, “Oh, look there, someone must have left something in the car before we rented it.”

She looked over the bucket seat and saw, sitting on the leather behind her, the scarlet box of chocolates, the bouquet of roses, a box of pink-frosted cupcakes, and a cardinal colored envelope.

Hopping in, she tore into the card. It was an e. e. cummings poem and a little note from me.

She read the e.e. cummings poem and looked at me seductively and said, “Soon I’ll be-e cumming too.”

She then opened the cupcakes and slowly sank her mouth over the pink-frosted top, taking a slow, seductive bite.

“Lo! We’re on our way to dinner,” I jokingly rebuked her. “You can’t eat dessert before dinner.”

“But Daddy,” she said, looking at me with frosting on her lips. “you know that I can’t pass up a good cream filling.”

“How did you know it was a cream filling? You’ve only just had the frosting.”

“I wasn’t talking about the cupcake,” she said as she bit into it again. She then leaned over the seat and gave me a big, wet, frosted kiss. “But I know that you know that cream filling is my favorite and so I figured you got me what I wanted.”

Secretly, I delighted in seeing her eat the cupcake. A certain kink, that is, if she was into it too, which she most definitely was not.

We got to the restaurant and Lo was wearing a cute, short red dress and matching pumps. She looked adorable. I could tell that all eyes were on her, just as she likes it.

“Lo,” I said as we sat at our romantic, candle-lit table, “you look better than ever!”

“Oh, go on,” she said, vainly. I love her vanity.

“Really, they say that men get better looking with age and that may be true. But you, my dear, look better to me every day we’re together.”

She slipped her right foot out of her sexy shoe under the table and lifted it to rub my leg up and down, showing her appreciation of my sincere, but flattering words.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“Why not, Daddy?”

“Because I may have to ravish you right here and now, rather than wait until we get back to the hotel and in bed.”

“Sex is not just something that happens in bed. Sex is a lifestyle.”

“You should write adult fortune cookies.”

She continued to rub my leg up and down, stretching now to touch my crotch. Her antics were hidden by the long tablecloth draped over the cozy round table, but I have no doubt an onlooker would be able to tell what she was up to.

After our meal, the waiter asked if we’d like dessert. I looked at Lo. “I really shouldn’t, I had the cupcake in the car,” she said.

I looked at the waiter and ordered an espresso and the red velvet cake for the lady.

After the waiter left, Lo said to me, “Daddio, I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then do it. Why not? It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

The cake and espresso came and I almost did too as I watched Lo eat the decadently delicious confection.

“Let’s go to the hotel and order a whole cake for you to eat while I eat you out,” I suggested, eager to have my luscious little Lo.

“Not yet, Daddio,” she said. “It’s early. Let’s go out for a few drinks first.”

“But I want you so much right now,” I said as I watched her tongue lick her red lips of the crimson cake crumbs.

“I’ll give you an appetizer in the car.”

We got in the convertible and Lo turned toward me in the red leather bucket seat. She spread her legs and rubbed her pussy over her cherry colored panties.

“I like how your entire outfit matches.”

“I’m good like that.”

I drove down the main drag of the city and Lo let the seat go back, lifted her feet onto the dashboard, and removed her panties. “I won’t be needing these where we’re going,” she said as she tossed them high in the air. I saw them fly upwards and then down onto the road behind us.

“Lo!” I scolded.

“She laughed.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of us.”

“Oh, Daddio,” she said, rubbing my arm, “don’t be so rigid about the rules. Are you rigid?” she asked, moving her hand down to my cock.

“Like a ruler,” I said.

“If only you were twelve inches!” she exclaimed.

I parked the car and we went into a cute little bar called “Rosebud & Thistle.”

“Remember Citizen Kane?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said as we walked to the joint.

“Rosebud.”

“What about it?”

“That was the last word he said.”

“And the name of his sled.”

“Did you know that it was also what William Randolph Hearst called his wife’s clit?”

“Now you’re just making that up,” she said skeptically.

“I appreciate your esteem of my creativity, but that’s a fact.”

“Well, why don’t you have a pet name for my clit?” she asked peevishly.

“Because, to me, you’re so much more than your clit.”

“Good save,” she said as we walked in the bar.

Inside was drenched in dim, romantic, rubicund light with lots of tufted leather love seats and a long bar with classic, 1950s style shiny red leather and chrome stools.

“Bar or booth?” I asked Lo.

She scanned the space and settled on the bar, leading me to the far corner. We found two vacant stools kitty-corner to each other. She made for one that was next to a lone gentleman who stared into his dwindling drink. She interrupted his ponderings to ask if the stool was taken and he politely invited her to sit. She slid up on the stool which, given her diminutive size, meant that her feet didn’t touch the ground. She smiled at him and I could see her eyes penetrate his dark soul.

Immediately she initiated small talk with him, telling him that we are from out of town and never had been to this place before. “Is there something pretty and sweet that catches your eye?” she asked before adding, “on the menu.”

He began to make a recommendation, but before he could even get it out, she interrupted him and said, “You know,” grabbing his elbow, “I’m in the mood for something stiff.” He looked at her, his eyes growing a little wider. “What are you drinking?” she asked.

He simply said, “Whiskey.”

“Straight?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, I’m not straight,” she said, “I want something complicated.”

She looked at the drink menu and put her finger to her lips, contemplating the choices in her mind.

I cleared my throat since throughout this award-worthy performance, I had remained silent.

“OH!” said Lo, introducing me, “This is my man, HH. HH, this is. . .”

Obviously she didn’t know his name.

“Ron,” he said.

“Hi, Ron,” I said.

“HH, will you order me a pomegranate martini? I’m going to freshen up,” she said as she attempted to scooch off of her stool. But the sliding down lifted up her red dress and nearly exposed her rosebud.

“Whoops!” she exclaimed, waiting just long enough for Ron to see before pulling down the front of her dress.

Lo gave me a peck on the cheek and disappeared.

I sat at the bar making conversation with Ron for a few moments before Lo returned.

“So, Ron,” she said almost immediately, “why are you here all alone on Valentine’s Day?”

I felt that that was none of Lo’s concern, but there was no putting the question back in between her just glossed lips now.

Ron went into a long story about breaking up with his girlfriend of four years only a few days ago. Turns out she was cheating on him.

“What can I do to cheer you up?” asked Lo, sliding her dress up.

“You’re already cheering me up,” he said with great appreciation in his voice.

Lo’s drink came.

“How’s your drink?” I asked as she took a sip.

“It’s wet.”

“Your drink?”

“That too.”

Soon she ordered a slice of strawberry shortcake.

I took great delight in seeing her eat her third dessert and flirting with Ron as I sipped my Manhattan.

“Mmmmm, this is so fucking good!” she said as she took another bite.

“‘Fucking’ is unnecessary and vulgar,” I replied.

“I don’t agree at all. For me fucking is completely necessary and appropriate.”

“Only if you’re doing it,” I said.

“That’s what I meant,” she responded immediately. “Why, what were you talking about?”

“I was talking about your vocabulary. You have a dirty mouth.”

“Not nearly as dirty as my mind.”

Then Lo turned and offered a taste of the cake to her new friend and he took it. “Isn’t that just heaven?” she asked as her right hand rested his left arm on her bare leg. He nodded yes and I could see him rubbing her thigh. When the cake and drinks were consumed, Lo paid the bill, pulling some dollars out of her ruby purse.

“I would have got that,” I said as the bartender took Lo’s cash.

“That’s ok, Daddio,” she said, “this has been my treat.”

Lo kissed Ron on the cheek, slid awkwardly off the stool again, and wished him a happy Valentine’s Day, adding, “Next time, let her cheat – it’s more fun that way.”

Lo put her arm around mine and we went out to the car.

“Lo, you were very bad in there,” I said.

“Was I?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I thought I was very good.”

When we got in the car, she kicked off her heels and put her feet up on my lap. “Rub them, Daddy,” she said.

I caressed her toes and instep with my left hand and she moaned.

“Did you like Rosebud, Daddy?” she asked.

“You mean the bar or your clit?” I asked back, looking at her rub her pussy as I pulled out of the parking spot.

“Yes,” she said enigmatically.

“I liked watching you eat three desserts,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll get donuts for breakfast.”

“I’m like the perfect donut – delicious, hot, fresh, with a lovely hole.”

“You sure have a way with words,” I said.

“My tongue is wicked, that’s why it’s red, but my soul is pure as the driven snow.”

“Well, that wicked tongue of yours was really charming the pants off of good ole Ron.”

“Can it charm the pants off of you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I looked at her, driving distracted.

“Take your cock out.”

“Lo, I’m driving. In a convertible. On the main street of this city.”

“Exactly,” she said, wiggling her toes over my lap.

At a red light, I unzipped and pulled out my hard shaft.

We drove on and as we did her feet and toes caressed me. The surprise of it all brought me to an unexpected climax as well, covering Lo’s toes with my warm jizz.

This presented a problem. My trousers were soaked. The seat had a puddle. Everything was wet and sticky. How were we to get into the hotel to clean off?

“Well, isn’t this a fine mess you got us into?” I asked, mimicking Oliver Hardy’s constant refrain to Stan Laurel. But the allusion was lost on Lo. Different generation.

“What do you mean I got us into?!”

“Just kidding, dear. But what are we going to do?”

“Not a problem.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just drive up to the side entrance of the hotel.”

“What are you going to do, put on your invisicloak?”

“Sort of.”

I drove up and Lo said to me, “Leave your phone and wallet in the car and follow me.”

I followed her and she used her hotel key to let us in the pool entrance. She walked as if she was tipsy and, as if she were walking a balance beam, she tiptoed along the edge of the pool before “accidentally” falling in.

After a split second of shock, I kicked off my shoes and dove in after her, fully clothed.

A few of the guests and the staff ran over to the pool. I held Lo in my arms, her red dress clinging to her breasts, her little bare feet kicking and splashing. She faked coughing.

“It’s all right,” I called out. “I got her! But could someone get us a couple of towels?”

Men rushed to help and we both got out of the pool even more soaking than we had been a few moments ago. We wrapped ourselves in the plush white terrycloth towels and I turned to Lo and said, “Pure as the driven snow.”

She looked at me, her mascara dripping down her face, her hair matted down, and she smiled saying, “You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome?! I saved you!”

“By letting you save me, I saved you. Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy.”

Back in the hotel room, after a long hot shower, as I lay naked on the bed watching Lo brushing out her hair, I put on a song that summed up Lola’s V-Day shenanigans. It’s called, “What Ever Lola Wants,” sung by Sarah Vaughan

Whatever Lola wants
Lola gets
And little man little Lola wants you

Make up your mind to have (your mind to have)
No regrets (no regrets)
Recline yourself resign yourself you’re through

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

Whatever Lola wants (Lola wants)
Lola gets (Lola gets)
Take off your coat
Don’t you know you can’t win (can’t win you’ll never never win)

You’re no exception to the rule
I’m irresistible you fool
Give in (give in you’ll never win)

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

When she came out of the bathroom, she said, “Damn straight! And now I’m coming for your cock.”

She crawled on the bed and, just to tease her, I said, “I thought I’d read a little.”

She spread her legs and replied, “Read between the lines,” as she placed her middle finger between her lush red labia.

“Looks like it says, ‘Rosebud,’” I said as I indulged in my dessert.

Slut Lust

Posted on April 10, 2017 by Lola Down

Slut Lust

It was Thursday and Lo was late getting home. She hadn’t texted or called or anything to say that she’d be late. I had texted her around 7:00 to find out where she was and I got no response. That was unusual, so I tried calling. No answer.

Finally, around 8:00 she sauntered in the door. Her hair was done and I saw right away that her nails were done. “Where the hell were you?” I asked, not so nicely.

“I’m sorry, Daddio,” she said in her sweet little-girl voice, as she reached out to caress my chest. “I went to get a haircut and then for a mani-pedi.”

“You could have called, texted, carrier pigeon, you know.”

“I’m really sorry. It wasn’t a scheduled appointment. I just walked in. I didn’t know if they’d have time for me, so I didn’t tell you cause I didn’t know myself until I was already in the chair. My phone was in my purse on the coatrack.”

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, suspicious.

“I’ll be right back. I just want to change,” she said as she dashed off to the bedroom.

When she came back into the living room, she was just wearing her little black negligee. She stretched out on the couch across from me and put her legs up with her toes close to my side. “Do you like, Daddy?”

I looked down at them and they looked like ten pieces of shiny, pink candy. “Yes,” I said, still sounding grumpy.

“Pet them,” she said, wiggling the little toes for attention.

I pet them and she cooed saying, “That’s right.”

“So tell me, what’s all this about?” I asked again.

She bent her legs at the knees in order to spread her legs a bit for me, displaying her lack of panties. She stroked her pussy lips. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Were you worried?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me?” she asked, running her tongue over her teeth and her lovely, manicured fingers deep between her pussy lips.

“Lo, answer the question.”

“What’s the question?”

“Why are you getting yourself all done up?”

“Well, if you must know, I have a date tomorrow night.”

“A date? With whom?”

“Brian.”

“What? I thought you said he was off limits – except in your imagination – because he’s a business associate?”

“Well, it’s not a date date. It’s a business date, of sorts.”

“What does that mean?”

She was still stoking her pussy and spreading her legs wider now. “Don’t stop playing with my toes,” she said.

I made sure to pay attention to her toes with my hand.

“We are working on a project together and he asked if I would like to talk about it over drinks tomorrow night.”

“Is that so?”

“MmmmHmmmm,” she moaned, followed by, “Are you jealous?”

“Should I be jealous?”

“MmmmHmmmm,” she moaned again and then she came. It was a surprise orgasm. It caught us both by surprise. It just gripped her and suddenly her toes curled up, her left hand grabbed a pillow and clutched it with all her might and her right hand continued stroking her pussy. After the convulsion had loosened just a bit, she managed to whisper, “Get a. . .” and she pointed. I knew what she needed and I dashed to the linen closet, grabbed a plush terrycloth towel, and dashed back. She stuffed it between her legs and released, squirting into it, letting her breath go, her body suddenly shaking and trembling with the force of her hysterical paroxysm.

When she calmed down, she said, “Put this in the laundry and then fuck me in the bedroom.”

I followed her instructions and when I entered the bedroom she was bent over the bed, her hands pulling her butt cheeks apart, prominently displaying her still dripping pussy. “Slide right in, Daddy.”

I did so.

“How’s it feel?” she asked.

“Like fucking in a hot tub,” I said. “You’re gushing.”

“Am I tight?”

“Not at all. I can hardly feel you.”

“Do you think Brian will think I’m a slut?”

“Do you plan on fucking him?”

“You never know where drinks on a Friday night will lead.”

“Whether he thinks you’re a slut or not, I know the truth.”

“Tell me. What is the truth?”

“You’re a horny, slutty, cock-hungry, strumpet!”

“Go on,” she said. She was just warming up.

“A cheating little bitch.”

“Yeah.”

“A fucking whore who. . .” I didn’t get to finish because she was screaming louder than I was talking at this point. She collapsed into the covers and was dripping down to her knees. I could hear my cock splashing about inside her as I continued to thrust.

“Stop.” she said.

“What?”

“Stop!”

“But I’m. . .”

“I know. You’re so close. I want you to stop. Pull out. Don’t cum.” She crawled away from me on the bed, leaving me hard-up, dripping wet with her cum.

She turned around and cleaned me off with her mouth and looked up at me. “I want you to be very hard up when I get home tomorrow night.”

“I will be, even if you finish me off now,” I said as my hands reached down to weave my fingers in her thick hair and push her head back down on my dipstick.

“I want you to be desperate for me,” she said, resisting any more pleasure for me.

“Fine,” I said, angrily.

The next morning, Lo was up before I was, which is something very unusual. She was already stroking it to Brian’s photos that she had found by searching him out on Facebook. Just as I was stirring, her left hand grabbed and held my right wrist tightly as she again convulsed, pressing her knees together, clasping on her fingers between her legs, dropping her phone, biting down hard. And then it was over.

“Morning Daddio,” she said pleased as peach.

“I want to fuck you,” I said.

“Nope. Not till tonight,” she said and she got up and went into the master bathroom, sat on the pot with the door open and looked at me as she squirted into the bowl and then peed. She knows that this is a real turn-on for me and she did it deliberately to arouse me.

She got up, bent over and flushed, went to the sink and began brushing her teeth, all the time popping her little ass out at me and looking over her shoulder to make sure I was watching her.

“Are you coming home before your date tonight?”

“Of course I am,” she said.

“So I’ll see you around five?”

“Yeah.”

Soon she was out the door going to work. She texted me and asked, “Are you still hard-up for me?”

I texted back three eggplant emojis.

Later that day, Lo came home and, after a perfunctory little peck on the cheek, she removed all her clothes and hopped into the steamy hot shower. I went to peek in and I was greeted by her yelling, “Get out!” as I saw her wearing her shower cap – something she hates to be seen wearing.

When she was out, she spent a good long time naked in front of the mirror doing her makeup. Finally, she came into the bedroom where I was watching her and she said, “This sucks.”

“What?”

“Look,” she said, showing me the little dangling string between her legs.

“Today?!”

“Yes. Can you believe it? I got it hard and heavy. I’m so fucking pissed.”

“Well, you weren’t planning on fucking him anyhow, were you?”

“When I go on a date I like to know that all options are open.”

“And all holes.”

“You’re so vulgar.”

“But right.”

“Yeah, so?”

She slid on a sexy little thong, put on her bra, and slid into her sexiest dress.

“Remember,” she said, as she put on her heels, “no cumming for you! Not until tonight.”

“Have fun,” I said as she dashed out the door, already late for her six o’clock appointment. “Remember,” I added, “not to mix business with pleasure.”

She turned around and, with a laugh, she said, “Darling, pleasure is my business,” as she smoothed out her dress over her curvy ass.

She left and with those parting words I thought about what a trollop she is.

Left to my own devices, or rather, my own vices, I poured myself a generous helping of scotch and ensconced myself on the couch with my computer to write. Every so often, when I wistfully thought of my little lush Lo, I would pull up her photos to look at – and only through a manly act of willpower, prevent myself from pleasuring myself to them.

To my surprise, nine o’clock came and went. Then ten. Then eleven! I didn’t dare text her because of some sadistic pleasure I took in the not knowing. But where the hell was she?!

Finally, at eleven-thirty-five, I saw the lights of a car pull into the driveway. It was Lo. She walked in the door and looked at me on the couch. “Hey Daddio,” she said as she sauntered up to me, leaned over and kissed me. She then turned to walk toward the bedroom and as she did so, she slowly slid her dress up over her ass so that I could see her bare bottom.

“Hey,” I called after her, “you were wearing panties when you left!” I got up and followed her to the bedroom where I managed to see her pull the dress up and over her head. She undid the clasp on her bra and took it off just before turning out the light and hopping into bed.

“How was your night, Daddio?” she asked, purposely being coy about her night.

“Fine,” I said.

She reached down and pulled out my hard cock. “Did you miss me?”

“What do you think?”

“I want to hear it. Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“A lot. Why are you so late and why don’t you have your thong on?”

She stroked my cock. “Were you good or bad?”

“I think I should be asking you that.”

“I asked you first.”

“I was good.”

“Did you jack it?”

“No.”

“Did you look at porn?”

“Only yours.”

“Did you cum?”

“I told you, I didn’t jack it.”

“Yes, but you could cum just by looking at my porn.”

“That’s true,” I said upon reflection, “but I didn’t.”

“Good.”

“Tell me about your night.”

“Are you sure you want to hear?”

“Yes,” I said, bracing myself for whatever she might reveal.

“Well, we met over at the restaurant. He was a perfect gentleman, even though it must have been obvious that I was a slut in lust.”

“Really? And how do you define lust?”

“Oh, Daddio, I’m disappointed. A writer like yourself should know that lust and slut are the same word, just slightly rearranged.”

“That’s true,” I said, pondering the similarities.

“Lusting is the desire to have someone’s body and to give them yours in return. Sluts don’t limit themselves to just one.”

“And love?”

“Oh, aren’t you the romantic? Love is wanting not just the other person’s body for one night; it’s wanting them totally and completely forever.”

“And you’re a slut in lust?”

“Yes. And it turns out Brian lusts for a slut. . . just like me.”

“Really?”

“Was there ever any doubt?”

“Go on.”

She tugged on my hard shaft and reached down below, cupping my balls. “Daddy, your junk is huge!”

“It’s been a while, Lo,” I said flatly.

“Don’t worry, ole man, you’ll get yours.”

“Can you continue your story?” I said, rather frustrated by the interruption.

“He was a perfect gentleman at dinner and we talked mostly about work stuff, but he did ask me some questions about my personal life.”

“Such as?”

“If I was dating anyone, who, how long – things like that.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth, of course.”

“There are many versions of ‘the truth.’ Which one did you tell him?”

“I told him that I’ve been dating you and that we have an understanding. I let him know that I’m free to play.”

“And?”

“And he invited me back to see his place.”

“Really?”

“Are you jealous now?”

“Did you go to his house?”

“Of course! Don’t be silly.”

“And?”

“He has a beautiful place overlooking the skyline of the city. He offered me a drink and I accepted. We sat on the couch and talked for a while, but then. . .”

“Then what?”

“Oh, it’s too embarrassing.”

“What?”

“Well, a good slut should never wear a thong when she has a heavy flow. At least not without a spare!”

“Uh oh!”

“Yeah. I had to get up and throw out my panties in his bathroom garbage.”

“So, you left your calling card!”

She hit my chest playfully. “Don’t be so rude! I’m a lady.”

“A slutty lady.”

“Nevertheless. So, I went back out, drank the last of my drink and thanked him for a wonderful evening.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“And now?”

“Now I want you, Daddy.”

“Good, cause I want you too! Spread your legs.”

“Uh-uh,” she said.

“What?”

“It’s too heavy for that.”

I was already between her legs and her hand had a firm grip on my member. She was pushing it up and down, causing the tip to rub against her clit as she moaned. I could feel how erect she was.

“But. . .” I protested.

“Mmmmmm,” she hummed, “I like this. Can I just give you a hand-job?”

“Sure,” I said, excited. I was ready and willing to take anything.

She reached over to the nightstand, put some moisturizing lotion in her palm and grabbed me again, slathering up my hard rod.

“You just want me to get your rocks off like some animal.”

“Yeah,” I said. “What kind of animal?”

“Like a big, horny dog.”

“Tell me about it.”

She was rubbing my slippery cock up and down her pussy and it felt at least as good for me as it did for her. She didn’t go on talking, so I took the lead.

“What if you lived alone. What if, after a hot and steamy date with a big, built, handsome guy like Brian, you came home all horny. You came into an empty apartment. Empty, except your faithful companion, your dog who has been waiting loyally for you to return.”

“A big dog, Daddy?”

“Yes. A Doberman. He gets all happy and excited when you walk in and his little tail starts wagging, but you’re so horny that you just need to jump into bed and start masturbating.”

“You’re bad, Daddy.”

“You get naked and he hops up on the bed next to you. He smells that you’re in heat and he gets between your legs.”

“Does he lick me?”

“Yes, and he’s a big dog and you never had him fixed, so his balls are huge and his cock grows at the slightest hint of your scent. You can see his giant erection as you stroke your pussy. You feel bad for him cause he has no bitch to get him off. He has to go so long without any sexual relief. You don’t want him to accost your guests. You want him to be a good dog. You don’t want him to hump your leg if Brian comes over, so you try to take care of him. You reach down between his haunches and you grab his cock with your hand.”

“Like this, Daddy?” she asked as she rubbed me up and down.

“Yes,” I said, moaning because her grip and slip felt so good. “You feel how big and hard it is and it reminds you of Brian. You just like having eager dick near you, no matter the type. You like that he’s big and hard-up. You know you have the power to make him feel better. You stroke him up and down with your right hand as your left is stroking yourself. He’s eager to get between your legs, like he has before, but you don’t let him this time. You do all the work with your gentle, but firm hand. He begins to thrust, sliding in and out between your slippery fingers and thumb. You know he’s close. You begin to cum yourself and just as you do, he ejaculates all over you!”

As I said it, she was cumming. I was cumming. We were cumming and cumming hard! After I was done, she leaned forward, took my cock in her mouth, and licked it clean. I thought about how that would make the perfect end to my little bedtime story.

I got up out of bed and grabbed a towel from the bathroom and returned to clean up my mess from her chest and belly.

“Hey,” she called out, “what are you doing?! It’s not a spill in isle eight!”

“Look, little girl,” I said, “your hound wouldn’t be able to do this for you. Accept the kind gesture with grace.”

“My hound would have licked me clean,” she said.

“Touché!”

mysexlifewithlola

The trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.

Category Archives: Water Sports

“I do it dirtier”

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