Interview With a Sex Addict

Interview with a Sex Addict 

AL gets a new monitor to look at Lo in hi-def while working from home, his wife in the next room

This week, we bring out our resident admitted and diagnosed sex addict, AL, who goes by “Al.”  He graciously agreed to answer a few questions about sex addiction, for educational purposes.  Lo enthusiastically put on her correspondent’s had (and nothing else) and went to work interviewing him and then, took off the newsgirl hat and teased him, as she does.

  1. How do you define “sex addict”?

Without Googling, I define a sex addict as someone who compulsively engages in sexual behaviors, despite any negative effects created by said behaviors.  They’ve shaped/changed their arousal palette, neural pathways, and reward center to release that sweet, sweet dopamine when engaging in their desired sexual behaviors, even if those behaviors result in negative consequences affecting self, family/friends, job, etc.

  1. Do you consider yourself a sex addict?

Yes, and if not a sex addict—then definitely addicted to lusting after HH/Lo’s pictures and words! Some days I’ll wake up with Lo on my mind and even though I could just stroke right there and cum—I’d much rather click through her pictures and read their words, first.

  1. Tell me more. How did you come to the conclusion that you are a sex addict?

Obviously, I was living life under the self-delusion that I just had high sex drive and a wandering eye. But after multiple therapists—which were a waste of time in the beginning since I never was actually honest about the extent of my situation—I had one in particular suggest that maybe I have a sex addiction. She also stated that it wasn’t her expertise, so she couldn’t help me in the way I needed. After some reading and podcasts, I reached out to a CSAT (Certified Sex Addiction Therapist) and decided to “come clean,” which coincided with my “rock bottom.” It was through her that I was diagnosed as having a sex addiction.

  1. Tell me what “rock bottom” meant for you since we all have different bottoms (no pun intended).

What I mean by rock bottom…long story, short: I racked up multiple thousands of dollars on credit cards in my name (via webcam girls, buying girls things, etc.); I was constantly checking sites like PornHub, Xvideos, eFukt, mysexlifewithlola.com; stopping by strip clubs for lap dances; even seeking out guys with whom to share naked photos/videos of my wife; seeking escorts for random encounters; cheating on my (then) fiancée with girls that she hated.

  1. You’re married to a beautiful, sexy woman. How’s that relationship?

Yes, she is very beautiful and sexy. We’ve been married five years, and together for over ten. We’ve definitely experienced our share of ups and downs. It’s the downs that seem to linger, but that is part of the work. She picked up on some red flags but continued on (as did I). Historically, she hasn’t had a ‘high’ (or medium for that matter) sex drive, and mistakenly, I used to ascribe a lot of the blame on her for my acting out. That was wrong of me. Part of the process involved a ‘disclosure’ of all events/actions that I had hidden away—that was difficult, borderline catastrophic. I ended up making it worse by not being completely honest during my first disclosure, meaning I didn’t come clean to all the details until a second disclosure months later.

Ironically, we’re closer and more strategic (in a non-sexual way) with our relationship now that I’m in recovery. She also sees a therapist who is familiar with partner betrayal (which is very important, or else sometimes the partner receives an unfair share of shame and blame). She doesn’t fully understand (can anyone, really?) but she’s working hard, as am I (sometimes). We do not have sex often, as I’m sure one might wonder…in fact, I’m lucky if it’s once a week and not a quickie. I can see that a day doesn’t go by where it doesn’t hurt her, but life is complicated, and the goal is to be in a better spot than we were.

[Trigger Warning – non-consent]

  1. Did you have any formative sexual experiences in early life?

Yes. At age 3 or 4, my next-door neighbor—who was around 5- or 6-year-old—introduced me to kissing and touching. She would take me in to the closet and show me first-hand what she must have been introduced to by whomever was (sadly) showing her. Additionally, when I was six, I had a handful of experiences involving my cousin (same age) and her friend, “trying to be like adults.”

I would also add that access to pornography at a young age was formative in itself. The internet really changed things, as well. I grew up in an unstable household; I sought pleasure and seclusion. Given those needs and that environment, it’s no wonder to me that I latched on to the pleasures of ‘sex’ to escape.

  1. Best sexual experience?

This is a tricky one…my best sexual experience would most likely be with one of my exes— she was amazing in bed…always wanted to fuck, loved to swallow, and LOVED doing it in public places. I think we were at some random party and their bathroom suited us just fine!

  1. Worst sexual experience?

Is that possible? JK. One of the worst experiences would be one of my first escort experiences. The situation was shady AF, which only prevented me from getting (and remaining) hard. I hadn’t experienced that before, and it was awkward. I remember desperately trying to squeeze my flaccid condom-covered cock inside of her. She understood, but I ended up having to settle for a hand job.

  1. Who knows of your addiction, if anyone?

As it stands right now, five people are aware of my addiction: my counselor, my wife, my wife’s best friend, one of my closest friends from high school, and oddly enough, one of my professors from my first year back at school. I’ve debated sharing with my brother (I think he has some similar issues) and my 14-year-old son.

  1. How long have you been in treatment for sex addiction? And do you feel it has worked?

I’ve been in treatment for 3+ years now with a CSAT. It definitely helped me become more aware. I’m sure there are workbooks, strict plans, etc. Before disclosure, we simply identified the really ‘bad’ behaviors (escorts, strip clubs, webcam girls) and put in mitigation efforts (GPS tracking on phone, website filters on phone and laptop). That’s actually the easy part. The hard part is the act of disclosure (if you’re honest enough), and all of the ‘work’ when no one is looking—that’s where the real gains can be made (or lost).

  1. What would you say to people reading this who are asking themselves: Am I a sex addict or do I just have a healthy sexual appetite?

I would say: enjoy sex. I personally see it as a life enhancer (similar to good food or music); however, if things start getting bad and you’re hiding a lot from people, that can spiral and add so much (unnecessary) stress. Long story short, if there are bad things happening because of one’s sexual appetite, then one should at least look at their impact and see if any adjustments should be made. Life is much more fun being authentic!

  1. Have you ever met a female sex addict? If so, describe what that interaction was like?

I’ve only read about and been told about them, never meeting one in person. I know they’re out there, but the stereotypical addict seems to fall on males and the partner role is assumed to be female.

  1. Why do you think sex addiction has become such a popular topic lately?

I think it’s because sex sells and some people look at it as a crutch or excuse to do what they do. (Which is fine, unless you’re causing unnecessary damage as a result of it.)

  1. Have you read any literature out there about sex addicts or sex addiction? If so, what do you recommend?

Facing the Shadow, Patrick Carnes

“Sex Help with Carol the Coach” (podcast)

“Behind Closed Doors” with Dr. Kate Balestrieri (podcast)

  1. Would you prefer if you were not a sex addict? Why or why not?

I like being who I am, and I like what I’m into. What I’d prefer is being upfront with significant others, and saying: “Hey, this is me…like it or leave it.” I think I grew up in shitty situations, so I’d use sex, love, flirting, etc. as my drug. Throw in the internet, and being someone who is good at lying, and that’s a potent combination.

  1. Biggest trouble that sex addiction got you into?

This list is ongoing, but you’re only in trouble if you get caught! (JK) Gigantic credit card bills…I’m a sucker for spoiling a slut or camgirl, lol. Racking those up was the primary driver in hitting my bottom.

  1. You seem to be successful at your job and still married and a parent. Is there such a thing as a “high functioning” sex addict like there is for a “high functioning alcoholic”? Describe.

Actually, I do think there is such a thing. I was so intrigued by this question, that I even asked it of my counselor—she agreed. Part of being a high functioning sex addict would require being able to compartmentalize almost anything and any time. In doing so, you’re able to build a rationale on the matter. I also know the things I cannot do—although I want to: the strip clubs, seeing escorts, flirting with a slut. And so I am able to navigate the decisions I make, and the steps I take to cover up those decisions if they are of the variety that would ‘give me away.’

  1. Pros and cons of being a sex addict?

Pros: Good ol’ fashioned dopamine at a relatively inexpensive cost (not including the externalities); typically, a more open, and inclusive mind… Cons: Can be relationship killer, money-drainer, and/or source of depression if not approached correctly (is there a correct way? Asking for a friend, lol).

  1. Top five fantasy fucks?

#1 – You!

#2 – An all-night bang session with my wife and her best friend.

#3 – Be part of a gangbang…with some amateur local wife.

#4 – DVP (Double Vaginal Penetration, or two penises in the vagina) with my wife.

#5 – You!

  1. Sexual experience you haven’t had yet but would like to try?

I’ve always wanted to try a threesome, both MMF and MFF. Also, I’ve ALWAYS wanted to share my wife…I can think of multiple scenarios involving her…me watching, not watching, listening, being shown, etc.

  1. Bonus question: From what you know of me, do you think I’m a sex addict?

From what I’ve gathered, and if analyzed with the actual truths, I do. But do I think there are huge negative consequences affecting you? Probably not, given our society.

After our interview was over, Lo was naughty and engaged in the following interaction:

Lola: I wonder how your jacking off to me plays into your current recovery and relationship with your wife.  For instance, what happens when I send you a photo like this?

Lola Teasing

AL: Besides the mini dopamine rush and flinch of my cock?  Or, are you looking for how many times I’ve already clicked on the picture, to enlarge and admire it?

Lola: I like to know that you think about me when you stroke that lovely cock of yours to my photos. Now write about that experience. Include where your wife is. How you keep this solo session from her?  How it makes you feel?  How I make you feel?

AL: Right now, my wife’s sleeping next to me naked.  I’m in the bed, hard as a rock, looking at your photos.  To tell the truth, I forgot how hard I get reading about you; way harder than looking at porn, that’s for sure.

All solo getting off has to be done on the sly for me. My wife and I have a soft agreement that I’m supposed to inform her when I ‘take care of myself.’. . . I often seek out your photos to simply admire and your stories to see what you’re up to, but. . . one thing leads to another.  I don’t always tell my wife when I got off alone and I certainly don’t disclose what I looked at/thought about, especially when it was you.  But these behaviors do cause me to develop a guilt factor when I’m wanting to take care of myself—which I don’t necessarily like.

I am fully aware that you don’t help my addiction.  However, I am also aware that I have needs too, and my mind is fully capable of rationalizing the fact that getting off to your pictures is a lot safer than the ‘acting out’ behaviors I used to engage in.

Keeping you – your pictures and your stories – hidden away from my therapist and my wife certainly doesn’t help my situation, but, as long as I am careful and respectful, it doesn’t necessarily hurt. I like to think it keeps me in somewhat of a steady-state (which I think is only possible because of the fact that I am ‘high-functioning’ sex addict, as you called it). Deep down, I know that these are behaviors that need to change in order to fully ‘recover.’ But I have to ask myself two things: “Is recovery what I really want?” and “Where’s the fun in that?”

Lola: So you’re saying that getting off to me is what we might call ‘harms reduction’?

AL: That’s an interesting take, but yes, sort of a lesser of two evils (although you’re not evil; naughty, yes, but not evil as far as I know, haha). It’s kind of like, I know it is still reinforcing neural pathways that I’m trying to change, but still I pursue that behavior because of my brain’s ability to rationalize and compartmentalize.

Lola: Thought experiment – what would happen if you were married to me and I constantly had guys (and gals) coming over in order to cum over, in, on, to, with, and for me and you were there to watch?  Would that be a cure?

AL: Now that just sounds hot!  If that scenario were real, and guys and girls were coming over to cum with, in, and on you, then I think I’d be in my happy place, as long as you (as my wife) wanted it, and so did I.  (I do, btw, I very much do!)

Compersion Perversion

[As published in the October issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, Lola goes on a date with MILF Meri.]

Lo Casually Masturbating

It was a Thursday.  I was at the office.  All alone again.  During this pandemic and sweltering heatwaves of the summer, working from the office alone actually provided both cool central air (as opposed to our poorly air conditioned apartment) and much valued quiet, alone time, conducive to creativity and, if necessary, work.  Ms. Gale was working from home.  My other employees were working remotely as well.  I was under the impression that Lo, too, was working from home.  That is, until I received an email from her.

It’s unusual for me to get an email from Lo.  Text, phone call, even the unexpected in-person appearance for a booty-call are all to be expected.  But rarely an email.  Unless something is wrong, or the landlady has written to her demanding the rent, asking for a favor, or passing along complaints from the neighbors about the volume levels, frequency, and inconvenient late hours of Lo’s orgasmic operatic arias.

But this email was different.

“Guess where I am,” it read, enigmatically.

“At home, doing work,” I replied, unimaginatively.

“Nope.”

“Is this Twenty Questions, or can I just ask, where are you?”

“I’m in the park.”

It was another sunny, hot as hell day in the city.

“OK.” I wrote back.

“I have my computer.  I’m ‘working remotely’ from here.  That’s why I’m using my email.”

“Why do you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes?”

“Guess who I’m with.”

“Bill Murray.”

“No silly!  Meri!!!”

“Oh, that’s why you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes.”

“Yeah.  She wrote to me this morning and said that she told her husband she can’t take being cooped up in the house with the kids any longer.  She’s going to the park to get away and work.  But she had invited me and so we’re both here, pretending to work, but doing a lot more suntanning than working.”

“Which park?” I asked.

“Guess.”

“Lo,” I wrote, in the tone of voice I take with her when she’s being naughty, “I actually have work to do.”  These multiple, terse emails were not conducive to getting anything done.

“Fine,” she replied, “the park next to your office.”

My office faces out onto the street, but my employee’s office, in the back of the building, looks out onto a small oval park in the midst of the other businesses.

“Do you want to come by the window and see what I’m wearing, or not wearing?”

How could I resist?

I walked across the reception room area where Ms. Gale has her desk, into the back office.  I glanced out the window and sure enough I saw my little Lo, ass up, her computer in front of her, her admirer behind her, seated about ten feet away.  There were streets hemming in the small sward, but full sun upon my nymph and her MILF.

Allow me to paint the scene for you.  Unlike the last time these two met in the park, this time Lo came prepared to bask in the sun.  She was lying on her tum, her legs bent at the knee and her feet dangling in the air.  She had her computer in front of her.

Behind her, sitting in a beach chair, was Meri, watching.  She sat, ostensibly reading a book, but she was really just spying on Lo.  The way the two of them were in relation to each other, it did not appear that they were together or knew one another.  And I was spying on both of them.  I don’t know if Lo or anyone could see me watching from above.  If Lo noticed my presence, she made no sign of it.

Lo was wearing nothing but a very tiny bikini top and a pink thong bikini bottom.  It literally was no more than a spaghetti strap covering basically none of her ass.  I was familiar with it because she had bought it on sale last fall and was so eager to wear it that she tried it on for me at home, pretending to be on the beach showing off.  A fun little game for both of us!

Lo’s Thong Askew

It wrapped around from her crotch and, when placed just so, concealed only the bare essentials of her letter ‘i’ – if you know what I mean.  From a distance, it looked as if she was wearing nothing at all on the bottom.  And I was not the only one to think that.  Sitting around the two of them on the shaded park benches were old ladies and moms with strollers and the occasional businessman out for air or a stolen glance of Lo’s delectable derrière.  I could tell that the lecherous men interspersed with a few lascivious women were all trying their utmost best to give the appearance of doing something, anything else besides what they were doing – watching Lo.  It takes one to know one, I thought.

Lo was keenly aware of her audience, but she was performing for only one.  Meri, for her part, sat slightly askew to Lo.  She wore heels, a pink skirt that stopped just short of her knees, and a grey tank-top that accentuated her large breasts, revealing lots of cleavage and that she was wearing no bra.  She wore a baseball cap and dark sunglasses in addition to her mask, as if she were a movie star trying to stay incognito.

Lo’s performance was exquisite.  Every once in a while she would reach back behind her and ‘adjust’ her bikini bottom, as if it was riding up her ass uncomfortably.  She would pull at it so nothing was concealed, at least not to Meri, and then let it go again with an audible snap.  Occasionally she would put sunscreen in her hand and run her index finger from her pussy over her balloon knot, as if to insure that those delicate parts wouldn’t burn.

From my vantagepoint, I couldn’t help but think that the sun shines from 94 million miles away for one reason only: to illuminate, warm, and tan Lo’s perfectly spherical double-orbed bronzed rear.  It was as if Helios himself was looking down intently upon Lo’s sexy little ass and the oppressive, powerful rays of light were his enormous erection aching to feel the pleasure of that posterior, but burning hotter because infinitely frustrated by the impossibility of a non-material substance’s concupiscence being quenched by the corporeal object of its affection.

Lo pretended to be oblivious to it all, typing away on her computer as if deeply engrossed by her work emails.

Even in my airconditioned office, I was growing warm from the sight.  Since no one is allowed to come to my office due to the pandemic, I don’t even bother putting on a suit anymore.  It’s strictly t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops for me this summer.  That’s not my office attire, that’s my everything attire.

I also was growing hard in my khaki shorts.  Seeing Lo nearly nude in the middle of the pedestrian and otherwise non-nude plaza, literally the center of attention in the circle of voyeurs, and me, up there, voyeuristically observing from on high, with who-knows-how-many-others lurking in the windows, was appealing to my compersion perversion.

Just when I thought the scene could not get any better, an older gentleman (I use the term loosely) wearing slacks and a button-down sky-blue casual long-sleeve shirt walked over the green grass directly towards Lo.  He squatted down to talk to her.  She turned her head toward him and then rolled over on her back, propping herself up with her elbows.  Then, for the first time I saw that she had on the bikini top with adjustable cups and she had adjusted them to a very narrow setting, exposing most of her breasts, her side-boobs bulging out.

She looked up at the man and struck up a conversation with him.  I could see practically her entire chest falling out from where I sat and I’m sure that that man had a close-up view of it.  I could see Lo smiling at him in her flirtatious way as he continued to engage her in whatever small talk they were pursuing.

I’m sure this gave Lo the triple pleasure of teasing the man while simultaneously making Meri jealous and me mad with admiration of her hotwife hospitality.  I could see Lo glance from her interlocutor to Meri, making sure that the latter was catching it all.  And I could see Meri watching with great interest.

As Lo continued to talk to the man, she seemingly absentmindedly spread her legs, revealing the tiny triangle of material covering her smooth mons pubis, and she thoughtlessly placed her hand down there as if adjusting the bathing suit or scratching an itch.  This allowed Meri a direct line of sight into Lo’s labial lodestar.

I guess Lo’s male conversationalist eventually ran out of things to say.  I saw him pass Lo something that looked like a business card and then say his adieu.  He walked away and I saw Lo smile like the scapegrace she is at Meri and Meri smiled back.  They were like two schoolgirls pulling one over the teacher.

Lo reached down between her legs and quickly pulled back the bikini bottoms for Meri to get an unobstructed view for a brief moment of bliss.  In return, Meri spread her legs and, though I couldn’t see it, flashed Lo a glimpse of her crotch, unadorned by any panties.  (I did later confirm this with Lo.)

From my perch I could comfortably enjoy all of the sexual psychological angles: between Lo and Meri; the older women on the periphery and Lo; the younger women on the sidelines and Lo, the men and Lo; as well as Lo’s basking in the attention of all of them just as she basked in the bright sunlight as if it were her spotlight on the stage.

HH – Hot & Hard

The psycho-sexual dynamics had me rock hard in my shorts and just as I was contemplating relieving the tension, I heard the faint sound of keys and then the turning of the lock on the office door.  Before I could scramble to see who was there (especially when no one was supposed to be there), in walked Ms. Gale wearing denim shorts and a gingham button down shirt, tied up in the middle to reveal her midriff.  It covered only her shoulders and breasts, though it was unbuttoned enough to reveal much cleavage.

“Ms. Gale?” I almost shouted in shock.

“Mr. H?!” she shot back.

I was keenly aware that I had a huge erection in my shorts and that Lo and her special lady friend were frolicking outside the window by which I sat.

“Why are you here?” we both asked simultaneously.

“This is my office,” I said, authoritatively.  Though, actually, I wasn’t in my office.

“I thought you put on the calendar that you were on vacation this week.”

“Oh, I had, that’s true,” I said, “but COVID put an end to our travel plans.  So, here I am.  And you?”

“It was too hot in my apartment to work.  I only have one window unit and with the temperatures in the hundreds, it doesn’t get much colder than about eighty-seven.  I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I thought that, since you were away, I’d work in the office and utilize the central air.”

“I see,” I said, still too hard to stand up.

“Why aren’t you in your office?” she asked.

“Well, I, uh,” I stumbled for a plausible answer.  “I got bored of the view,” I said.

“Oh, is the view from that window better?  I thought it just looked out onto the park,” she said as she moved toward the window to look out.  I desperately didn’t want her to do that!

She did and we both looked outside.  To my great surprise, there was no sign of Lo and Meri!!!

“It’s just a different view,” I said casually.

She looked out the window, bending over, displaying her round rear to me in the tight shorts.

“You like the view?” she asked, enigmatically.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.  “I rarely see it like this,” I said, looking at her ass.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.  “You should take more time to smell the roses.  You’re always working,” she added as she returned to standing in front of me.  Little does she know that more often than not, when she thinks I’m assiduously working on a legal brief, I’m actually writing this torrid encomium to Lola.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said like a judge.  “But for now, I’ll let you have the office to yourself.  You know, we must be socially distant.”  I said it as if I were explaining to her that we need to be sexually distant.

“You don’t have to go,” she said.  “I mean, you could just work in a separate office.  I don’t mean to push you out.”

I was eager to catch up with Lola.

I put away the files I had been working on before Lo’s email and headed toward where I thought I’d find Lo and Meri.  Five minutes into my walk, I was already drenched in sweat.  I felt like I was suffocating due to the high temperatures and humidity.  Making matters worse, I had to wear that asphyxiating mask!  But I was determined.

I walked up the busy street from my office and was about to despair of my loss, but then I spied the two women sitting in front of the ice cream shop.  They each were seductively eating their treats from cups.  I took a seat not too far away from my nymph.  I didn’t worry about being discovered.  I had on dark sunglasses and my bandana mask.  Very little of my face could be seen and, as an added benefit, Meri had never met me.  To the best of my knowledge, she had no idea what I looked like.

The two of them were engrossed in conversation.  I watched for as long as I could, but the sun was baking me.  Eventually, convinced that I wasn’t missing anything of great import, I decided to return home, take a cool shower, and await Lo’s return.

I was on the couch in the living room when I heard the front door abruptly open and close.  I heard Lo scamper down the hall to the bedroom and master bath.  She too hopped in the shower first thing, but not to engage in the usual self-pleasure that she frequently enjoys in there.  No, it was a quick rinse and then, from the living room I heard her masturbatory moans.

I quietly walked down the hall.  The AC was on in the bedroom and so Lo didn’t hear me.  I slowly opened the bedroom door and couldn’t believe my eyes!  Instead of pounding her pussy with a dildo of enormous magnitude, she was sliding my Stoya Fleshlight up and down her lower lips, pressing Stoya’s labia into her own, dripping her wetness all over the prosthetic pussy.  Her eyes were closed and with her free hand she was plucking her nipples.

“Lo,” I said in a gentle tone.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” she screamed as she jumped a mile.  “What the hell are you doing home?!”  It was almost an accusation.

“I’m sorry, Darling,” I said before explaining the surprise visit by Ms. Gale and then asking her, “What the hell are you doing with my Fleshlight?”

“I hate the COVID bullshit!” she lamented.  “I want a pussy.  I want Meri’s pussy.  I want to fuck someone who is not you.  No offence,” she said after realizing what she had said.  “I just want. . .”

“No offence taken,” I said sarcastically.  “How could that possibly be offensive?”

“You know what I mean.  Of course I want to fuck you too, but I also want to be able to fuck others as well.”

“You have,” I reminded her.  “The brothers.  Remember?”

Stoya Licking her own Pussy

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, putting Stoya back on her cunt.  “That’s for them, not for me.  They’re young men, full of testosterone and they need my sweet release, especially in this pandemic.  I spread my legs, they slip in my honeypot and unload.  That’s all for them.”

“Oh, you get nothing out of it?” I asked sarcastically.  “You’re just a simple orgasm donor?”

She laughed, “I get something out of it.  I mean, I cum, yes.  And it pleases me to be their goto girl, their flesh-and-blood Fleshlight.  I won’t deny, that turns me on.  I like being their easy access.  Their cum dump.  The thought of guys’ balls aching for my cunt and unloading into me because I can provide for them what they so desperately need is an incredible turn-on.  But I want a woman.  I want someone who will take time to pleasure me, give me what I want, know what I want.  Not just ram it in deep and hard to prove how big and strong they are.  I want Meri.”

She returned to sliding and pressing the Fleshlight’s lithe labia up against her own swollen and supple lips, causing a suction sound as her own secretions lubricated the point of contact.  She reached down with her free hand and began circling her clit with her index finger.  She did all this as if I wasn’t even there.  Oblivious to me and all else but her imagination and the feel of her pussy slip-sliding against another pussy, she was soon squirting a stream of climactic juices directly into the parted prosthetic pussy.  The receptacle, upside down, simply dribbled out the contents back onto and into Lo’s already soaked and dilated source.

She took a few deep breaths.  I stood silently awaiting her command, request, or even insinuation to fill her with my meat.  But, instead she reached for her phone.  She made a call and said, “Hi.  Yeah.  Another leak.  Can you come over and fix it right away?”

She turned to me and asked, “Will you let them in?”

“Who?”

Then the doorbell rang.

I walked down the hall and admitted the two brothers.  It was the same uncomfortable silence between us as it had been before.  Merely sheepish grins and a little nod of the head as they walked toward their destination.  They no longer needed to be shown the way.

They walked into the bedroom, saw Lola splayed out on the bed naked, Fleshlight beside her body, sheets soaked, and they immediately dropped their pants.  They didn’t even bother to take off their shoes or their shirts.  Kids these days.

Lola: “Fuck me.”

“Fill me, fuck me, pump me, pound me, use me, abuse me, whip me, worship me,” said Lo, spreading her legs further, bending her knees and slapping her cum-slathered pussy.

One of the boys pulled her to the edge of the bed and penetrated her.  She briefly looked up at me, her head upside-down, from the bed, before her eyes rolled back.  The boy was rock hard and eager.  His brother stood by the bed watching, cock in hand, stroking, and patient.  Within moments, the first reached his climax inside her.

Pulling out, he stepped aside for his brother to have his chance.  Lo rolled over onto her hands and knees, raising her ass for him to have her.  He easily slid into her soaking holes.  I saw her wince just a little as he entered the tighter of the two.  But soon he was alternating back-and-forth at whim.  Now the other brother watched and, to my amazement, grew hard as he did so.  What amazing recovery time!

Lola: “Fill me.”

After the more active brother drove his point home in Lo’s rear, he pulled out and they both watched as Lo oozed, cooed, and creamed.

Then the first returned to the pole position.

I could see that Lo, by this point, was almost bored.  Her head was resting on her hands and she looked up at me, unconcerned about what was happening beyond her shoulders.

“Daddio,” she said, “will you pass me my phone?”

Her phone was on her nightstand on the other side of the bed, by the boys.  I walked around the bed, past the brother who was slamming his shaft deep into my hotwife’s pussy at the time, past the other brother who was eagerly awaiting his chance for another deep dive in her, and grabbed the phone.  I walked back around to the side of the bed by the door and passed it to Lo.

She pressed some buttons, preoccupied with the phone and not at all occupied with the activities behind her, and looked up at me again.  “If I order a pizza, what would you like on it?” she asked in a quiet voice, as if the boys and her bum were in another room and she didn’t want to disturb them.

It seemed a most unusual question for the moment.  I must have looked puzzled.  “I’m hungry,” she added by way of explanation.

“Mushrooms and onions,” I said unthinkingly.

“Oh, hi,” Lo said into her phone.  At the very same time, the first brother finished, ejaculating in long shots on Lo’s back.  I guess Lo was put on hold briefly because she was quiet for a moment.

The second brother asked Lo, “Do you want more?”  He was clearly confused by Lo’s phone call.

Lo turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Go ahead.  You can have it.  Try to be quick.”

I heard a voice from the phone ask, “Yes, can I help you?”

Lo’s attention was back to her pizza order as the boy behind her grabbed her hips and pulled them towards his erect phallus.  “Yeah, could I get one sausage pizza and one with onions and mushrooms?”

Lo Placing an Order for Pizza

The boy behind her returned to his favorite alternating ass/puss, ass/puss plunging.  I could see him spreading her cheeks with both hands as he pulled out and pressed in.

“Medium,” said Lo into the phone and then looking up at me she asked, “Medium big enough for you?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, two mediums,” she said into the phone again.  “OK.  Yes.  Delivery please.  Great.  Thank you.”  She hung up and put the phone by her side.

Allowing her head to fall into the pillow, she reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart, allowing her paramour to use his hands in other ways.  He reached under her and grabbed her doughy tum and squeezed.

“You going to cum?” Lo asked.

He grunted.

I guess she could feel him building.  “Come on.  You got two in you, don’t you?  You like my ass?  You like it,” she said.  She moved her fingers to her ass and felt him sliding in and out of her.  He was ready.  She was giving him a hand-job as he entered and exited her posterior.  Lo’s instincts kicked in and she turned abruptly and opened her mouth to receive his fill.  He grabbed his cock with one hand and her head with the other, pulling her mouth onto his shaft.  He began to cum and then pulled out of her mouth and sprayed the rest on her face.  She was drenched.

She looked up at him and asked, “Feeling better?”

The first brother already had his pants on.  The second, who had just finished, reached down to pull up his from around his ankles.

“Thanks Lo,” he said.

“Say hi to your mom,” Lo said.

“Enjoy your dinner,” he replied.

They let themselves out.

Lo fell backwards and, lying on the bed, she looked up at me and asked, “Will you get the pizza and tip the delivery guy?”

“Maybe you should.”

She contemplated that idea.  “Like I am?”

“Exactly.”

Lola Filled, but not full

When the bell rang, she walked to the door, dripping from the boys’ icing on her face and shoulders, and, opening the door, took the two pizzas in hand and gave a few dollars in tip.

I awaited her return in the dining room.

“What was his reaction?” I asked as she placed the pizzas on the table.

She laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“It was a woman.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“What was her reaction?”

“A cross between shock and disgust.”

“Too bad.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were going for shock, awe, and arousal.”

“I’ll take disgust.”

She grabbed a slice of pizza.  No plate.  She didn’t even sit down.  She stood by the table, naked, and ate it with fervor.  “Sorry, Daddy,” she said, mouth full.

“Sorry for what?”

“What I said before.  You understand, though, don’t you?”

“Yes Lo,” I said, sincerely, not sarcastically.  I felt love, compassion, and patience.  “But,” I added, “you need to clean up Stoya and the sheets.”

“I will,” she said, obediently.

I had a slice of pizza and cracked open a beer.

“Is there a reason you had the boys rather than me?” I finally asked.

“Yes,” she said, with no explanation.  She continued eating.

“Care to enlighten me?”

“I like to be used.”

“You didn’t even cum.”

“No, because I wanted Meri.  But, I’ll cum later to the thought of them and this afternoon.”

“With me or without me?”

“If you’re lucky, both.”

After dinner, she strutted to the bedroom to clean up.  I followed.

“What a mess!” she said at the sight.  “Isn’t it wonderful?!”  She dove into the bed.  “It smells like sex.”

“Just like you,” I said sarcastically.

When she got up to strip (the bed that is, since she already was naked as the day she was born) I asked her, “Who was that man talking to you in the park?”

“Oh, him?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Just a creep.  He just wanted a closer look at me.”

“You sure gave it to him.”

“You saw?” she asked, flattered that I took in her stunning act.

“Yes, I saw.  What did he give you?”

“His business card.”

“What sort of business is he in?”

“He says he’s a photographer and he asked if I would be interested in any boudoir photography done of me.”

“Really?  Where’s his card?”

She bent over by the side of the bed and dug through her little beach bag.  “Here it is.”

She gave it to me.

“I see,” I said, reading it.  “You going to take him up on it?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to?”

“Let me think about it.  Did you and Meri have a good time?”

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s at home doing exactly what you just did.”

“Eating pizza?”

 

Opening Up

Lo, falling out of her blue dress

 

 

 

 

[This story was just published in the August issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy ‘ENM’ Magazine, p. 34. Enjoy!]

Slowly our world was opening.  Like a tightly bound spring bud on the perennial, gradually, with the days growing longer and the temperatures climbing, the petals begin to unfurl, letting in water and air, letting out color and aromatic fragrance, similarly, with each passing day, more people were walking on the streets, more shops invited in limited customers, more restaurants set up tables outside.  The patrons cautiously caroused and conversed in the allure of springtime sunshine that thawed the COVID chill of winter.

“Daddy,” said Lo that afternoon as she called me from home to my office where I was working, alone.

I knew from her tone, she wanted something.

“Yes?”

“Daddy, it’s Friday.”

“I am aware.”

“And it’s beautiful outside.”

“I can see,” I said, gazing out my office window onto the usually bustling, now sleepy street below.

“We haven’t had a date in forever.”

I wanted to remind Lo that, in the time of COVID-19, Friday evening is no different from Monday or Wednesday or any other day.  But I refrained and listened.

“Can we go out?” she asked.

“For a walk?”

“No, I mean like out out.”

“To a restaurant?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“Lo, you know that you’ll only have a panic attack tonight if we do that.”

“I want to get dressed up, put on makeup, wear some fucking heels, and go out!”

She protested to me with the pent-up anger she had for the pandemic.

“Dressed up?  Out?  Where?”

“Anywhere!  I haven’t worn anything but yoga pants for three months!”

“Spandex is your best color.”

“How can you possibly love me looking like this?”

“What?  I love you in yoga pants.  I love you out of yoga pants.  I love getting you out of yoga pants.  Then I love getting in you.  But I digress.  Where were we?”

Lo getting out of her yoga pants

“You’re taking me out tonight and we’re going to go to a restaurant to eat and pretend like none of this is happening!”

“If that’s what you want.  You know I can’t deny you.”

“Good!  I’ll pick you up in a half hour.”

A half hour later I got a phone call from Lo.  “Daddy, I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

“You said a half hour a half hour ago.”

“Yeah, well, I forgot how to do this.”

“How to do what?”

“Put on makeup.  I’m a mess.  I have to start over.”

About an hour later I got a text from Lo, “I’m out front.”

I packed up my stuff and walked out onto the street.  I saw Lo parked in front of my building, the windows down, looking toward the sidewalk, but not looking at me.  She wore her tight blue dress.  She had intense red lip gloss on and her hair was done like I hadn’t seen in three months or more.

I hopped in the car.  “Hello.”

She was running her tongue over her lips.

“I see you’re eager for our date,” I said.

“Sit back,” she said, hardly acknowledging my presence.

I saw her looking through the plate glass window of the store to my right.

“I have an admirer.”

In the window was a young salesclerk.  If I had to guess, I’d say he was about twenty-two.  He was gazing right past me into Lo’s seductive eyes.

“It’s been a while,” I said to Lo.  “Enjoying the attention?”

Lo didn’t answer.  She was basking in the youth’s admiration of her beauty.

“I see that COVID hasn’t killed your vanity.”

“Vanity?” Lo asked, starting the car, “If you were about two minutes later, I would have had an orgasm right here.”

“Well don’t let me stop you.”

She pulled away from the curb, blowing a kiss to her handsome stranger who was reverse window shopping Lo’s goods.

“OK Love, where to?” I asked.

“Somewhere with outside seating.”

“That’s all that’s open right now.”

“And good food.”

“Of course.  And expensive.”

“Why must it be expensive?”

“Because you judge a restaurant by how much weight my wallet loses.”

“You’re not wrong.  And it also has to be pretty.”

“Guaranteed you’ll improve the atmosphere.”

I was glad she was driving.  It’s difficult enough to find a dining establishment in this town that meets with Lo’s mood during normal times.  I did not want to be the one responsible for pleasing her palate during COVID.

We zig-zagged through our city as she made suggestions and I looked them up to see if there was a chance that we’d get a table.

“Can’t you hurry, the sun will set soon!”

“Lo, this plan suffers from one fatal error.”

“What’s that?”

“It wasn’t planned!”

Exhausted, frustrated, and hungry, we abandoned dining out in favor of picking up two to-go meals, a bottle of champagne, plastic utensils and eating on a park bench overlooking the skyline of our city as the hues of dusk drenched us in an orange glow.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?” I said.

No response.

“It’s intimate and romantic.”

“I want fancy, elegant, and full of possibilities.”

“Lo, we’re just not at that stage yet.  I don’t even think the governor has ‘erotic dining’ on the list of phased reopening.”

“Well he should!”

We drove home and she sulked in the passenger seat.

“What will cheer you up?” I asked.

She shrugged her shoulders.

“There has to be something to get you out of these doldrums.”

She looked off into the distance and then back at me.  She clearly was forming a thought.  She reached over and ran her hands through my hair.

“What?” I asked, nervous.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I said.

“When we get home, let me cut your hair.”

“What?”

“You need a haircut and you’re not ready to go to the barber.”

“Will it make you happy?”

“Very.  I’ve always thought I could do it better.”

“You think that about everything.”

“Well, it’s true about most things.”

We got home and she said, “Get naked.”

“I thought you were giving me a haircut.”

“I am.  Get naked.”

“I don’t get naked for my barber.”

“You’re going to get naked for me.”

I stripped out of my clothes and sat on the chair she set up in the bathroom.  She pulled out the electric trimmer and some scissors, hair clips and my comb.

“Lo,” I said furtively, “you know that professional hairdressers spend one year only cutting the hair on manikins.”

“I watched a YouTube video.  I’m good.”

“Oh, I see.  Those hairstylists are wasting their tuition dollars.”

“Don’t you worry, I know what I’m doing.”

She got out of her blue dress and was wearing just her thong and a tank top revealing a lot of side-boob.

“Ok, I’m feeling better about this already.”

“I see,” she said, admiring my erection.  “Does that happen to you at the barber?”

“My barber is named Luige, what do you think?”

“Good.”

She began with the back, running the trimmer up my scalp.  Then the sides.

“You know, it’s my hair, not mowing lawn, right?”
“I told you, I watched a video.”

Then she came around the front and was looking at my head like a work of art, checking the symmetry.  She got out the scissors, leaned in, combed my hair up, and began snipping, placing her breasts in my face.  I pulled her shirt up to let her nipples dance before my admiring eyes.  I leaned forward and took one in my mouth.

“Hey!  You know I’m cutting your hair here?”

“Sorry, I got carried away.”

“Leave my tits alone until I’m done.”

“Can you cut my hair like this?” I asked, pulling the sides of her shirt into the cleavage of her breasts, revealing her tits.

“Do you promise just to look and not touch?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine.  Now stay still.”

“It’s like a dream come true,” I said.

“You’ve always wanted Luige to wear his t-shirt like this?”

Lo, A Little Side-Boob

“No!  Never mind.”

She continued cutting away and then trimmed up my beard and finally said, “Voilà!”

I stood up and looked in the mirror.  It didn’t look half bad.

I hopped in the shower to get all the clippings off of me and, within moments, she slipped in next to me.

“Luige never did this either,” I said.

“I should hope not.”

When all the hair had washed from our bodies, she got down on her knees and, looking up at me, said, “Did you like how I cut your hair, Daddy?”

“Yes,” I said.

“What would you think if I opened up a shop and cut everyone’s hair like that?”

“In your panties and a tank top?  Or giving everyone the same hair style as you gave me?”

She laughed.  “So you admit, I’ve got style?”

“The finest style, class, tits, and ass.  In fact, that could be the motto of your salon.”

She opened up her mouth and put out her tongue a little.  “Don’t I get a tip, Daddy?”

I rested the tip of my cock in her mouth.  She took the whole rod.

“Greedy, aren’t you?”

“It’s today’s special: a haircut and a happy ending.”

Lo takes the tip

Telegraphic Titillation

Working from Home

Sometimes it seems that I attract a certain ilk of people toward me.  We all telegraph messages – both overtly and unconsciously – to the world and some people not only have the capacity to receive those messages, but are drawn toward them.

When I hired Ms. Gale, I was not consciously aware of anything special about her.  She had just graduated from college, was in need of some sort of job – anything really – and she pranced into my office, no appointment, after hearing from a friend that I might be a good employer.

She was my first employee.  I always strived to have a purely professional relationship with her.  But she was looking for more than a boss.  She wanted meaning, a mentor, a man.  Don’t get me wrong, when I met her, she was dating someone.  And she has since begun dating and broken up with a half-dozen guys.  But they all were about half my age and she always turned to me for both life advice and love advice.  Early on I told her, “You know, age doesn’t necessarily lead to wisdom.”  She said, “Only a wise person would say that.”

She appeals to my vanity and that’s dangerous.

Perhaps because I have remained distant and also because I’ve always been kind, she is loyal to a tee.

And so, recently, with the onset of work-from-home orders, she has insisted on coming into the office to do the necessary work that is needed.

That is also dangerous because there’s only the two of us in the office and we are guaranteed to be left alone since no clients would be popping in unexpectedly.

Let me be clear, before you, dear reader, get any lurid ideas – I am completely faithful to my Lo.  I am dedicated to her.  Obviously.  If you don’t know that by now, then, well, go back and do your homework.

The other day, a couple of weeks ago, I noticed that Ms. Gale’s blouse was unbuttoned a little too far for work, revealing her cleavage and a bit of her lacey bra.  But that is not what piqued my interest.  I was curious because there seemed to be large red splotches on her otherwise fair-skinned chest.

I didn’t pay it much mind, figuring that maybe I should turn up the AC.

A couple of days later I noticed it again.  This time the red rash ran up to her neck.  But later in the day the marks had disappeared.

Curious.

Then, last week, she came into my office to show me a document she had drafted.

She bent over my desk and her large breasts were dangling down dancing freely in front of me.  I looked at the document and then back up at her and I saw the red splotches appearing before my eyes.

“Ms. Gale,” I said authoritatively.

She stood up immediately and bit her lip a little.  Her knees were pressed together.

“Yes,” she squealed.

“Are you allergic to something in the office?”

“What?”

“Is there something in the office causing a skin rash for you?”

She looked confused.  “Why do you say that?”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to draw attention to this, but I’ve noticed on a number of occasions that you seem to have some sort of. . .”  I moved my hand to my neck and chest to indicate what I was talking about.

She looked down and saw the scarlet indicator of which I spoke.

“Can you excuse me, Mr. H., for one sec.?  I really have to use the bathroom.”

I felt terrible.  I embarrassed her.  I should never have mentioned it!  Damn.

A few moments later she returned.

She sat at her desk.  I went to her and said, “I’m sorry for that, Ms. Gale.  I was out of line.  I was just concerned that maybe there is an environmental allergen that we could remove.”

“That’s ok, Mr. H.,” she said.  “I appreciate your concern.  No.  I’m not allergic to anything.”

I wanted to let the question drop.  But I continued.  Was I being a good boss or a naughty old man?

“Is it too hot in here for you?”

“No, Mr. H.”

“OK.  Well, if there is anything that you. . .”

She didn’t let me finish my sentence.  She broke into tears at her desk.

Oh, I thought, the red splotches have to do with her emotions.

Unfortunately, as I’ve mentioned before, I suffer terribly from dacryphilia – the arousal caused by crying; specifically a lovely younger woman’s tears.

What was I to do?

“Ms. Gale.  I’m. . .”

She looked up at me, her mascara running, crimson splotches all over her chest and neck.

“It’s not you, Mr. H.,” she said.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

She was quiet for a while.  Her hands tightly gripped the arms of the task chair she was in.  She bit down on her lip for a moment and almost lifted herself up out of the chair.

“Ms. Gale?”
“Mr. H.  I’m sorry because I’ve been inappropriate.  I’ve violated your trust.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This is so embarrassing,” she said.  “You know, because of COVID-19, I haven’t been able to date anyone.”

“You and the rest of the single world,” I added, supportively.

“But I’ve been on a few dating aps and. . .”

She trailed off for a bit, collecting her thoughts.

“And, I met someone.  Someone I really like.  But we haven’t been able to meet in person.  It’s terrible.”

Again, another long pause.

“It doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.  “This pandemic will eventually be over.”

“That’s not it, Mr. H.”

“What?  You can tell me anything.”  I don’t know if I meant that.  I’m not sure that I wanted to hear what she had to say.  But it seemed like the right thing to say at the moment.

“I know, Mr. H.  You’re so good to me.  But I think you’re going to fire me.”

“Why?”  I was now very worried that she had violated confidentiality or something serious.

“Well, in order to feel more connected with this guy.  In order to gratify his, my, our sexual needs.”  There were a lot of pauses.  “He bought me a toy.”

“A toy?”

“A sex toy.”

“I’m not sure I follow.  What does that have to do with. . .”

“It’s called a Lush.  It is operated remotely.”

“And?”

“And, well, I have it in now.  I’ve had it in for the past two weeks at work.  He turns it on at random and, well, it causes me to climax, like really climax.  I mean, like a huge fucking orgasm.”

“I get it,” I said.  “So, it’s in you right now?”

“Yes.”

“Vibrating?”

She just nodded.

“And that accounts for the rash on your chest.”

She nodded, yes, again.  She was too embarrassed to answer with words.

“I see.  That is serious.”

“I’ll pack up my things.  I’m so sorry again.”

“There is no need for that, Ms. Gale,” I said, surprising myself.

“What?”

“Please, just don’t let it happen again and you and I, well, we’ll pretend like this unfortunate circumstance never transpired.  Ok?”

“Are you sure, Mr. H.?”

“Would you rather be fired?”

“No no no,” she said.  “It will never happen again.”

“I expect not.  This is a place of business, not a personal care facility.”

“Yes, Mr. H.”

“If I catch you doing that again, you’ll leave me no choice.”

“I understand.”

“I’ll have to spank you,” I said with a little wink, letting her know that I was just joking and I actually was not that cross with her.

Interview With a Nympho

[A word to our sponsors – that’s YOU. Recently a dear reader wrote in to say that he had difficulty subscribing to our blog. We reached out to our beloved tech guy – our Knight in Shining Armor – and he took care of the problem right away. If you have any questions or concerns about subscribing or anything else, please write to us so we can help you out: downloladown@gmail.com. Please subscribe and get all the sexy stories every month!!!]

Working from home? Enjoy mysexlifewithlola as you do.

[I, Lola Down, recently was asked to do an interview about my sex-life under lockdown. Even though HH just wrote an article about it for Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, I was happy to give an interview in my own words. It ended up on the cutting room floor, but here it is for your reading pleasure.]

1. How has your sex life changed since practicing social distancing?

My sex life with my man, HH, is pretty much the same. I mean, we have lots of time together and, actually, that’s been great for both of us. But, to fill you in on our relationship, he’s in his fifties and I’m in my mid-twenties. His libido isn’t quite where mine is. In fact, he says that my libido outstrips that of a teenage boy. Well, maybe he’s right. So between us, things have remained the same — about once or twice a day. However, with “social distancing” (which is really physical distancing since I am still very social, just physically distant) I cannot meet men and women in person like I used to. HH and I have an understanding. I’m given free reign (to be a ‘hotwife’) and he saves himself for me. But now, all my hotwife activity is only virtual — through email (downloladown@gmail.com) or tweet or other social media. There’s a lot of men and women out there who are trapped. Either they’re alone or they are with partners that don’t satisfy them. They’re happy to find me.

Caught!

2. What is it like when you do decide to leave your apartment, flat or home?

Where we are, when we go out it’s probably much like where you are. People walking around or jogging or biking. Some have masks on, some don’t. I get really upset at those joggers who sneak up on you and don’t have a mask on and they come within a foot of your personal space. Go jog somewhere else! You know? Shopping is a pain, but you know, as they say, we’re all in this together. I can’t complain any more than the next person.

3. How do you control your urges or cravings on a daily basis?

Working from home makes it easy. Simply put, I don’t have to “control my urges or cravings” as much as I would at work. I can simply hop into the bath, turn on the warm water, spread my legs and have a little mid-day me-time. No sneaking around to the office supply closet or an empty bathroom.

Lola Social Distancing

4. What is the hardest part of being a sex addict in quarantine?

Am I a sex addict? Like Jessica Rabbit says, “I’m not bad. I’m just drawn that way.” HH depicts me as a sex-craved nympho. I just think I’m sex-positive with a healthy libido. I think that this “social distancing” is as draining on me as anyone. I thrive on social interaction. The other day I woke up and turned to HH and said, “I had such a vivid dream. I was at a restaurant and had just finished an excellent meal and a great cocktail. I even asked for the bill. It was amazing!”

“Was it as good as a sex dream?” he asked.

Honestly, it was better. I just want to be outside with people, dining out, seeing and being seen, dressing up or dressing down and, did I mention, being with people? Zoom just doesn’t do it for me.

Write me!

5. How do you cope as a sex addict in quarantine?

Didn’t the CDC say that sex with yourself is the safest sexy you can have? Well, I try to follow rules. Except when I break them. No, just kidding. That’s a rule I don’t break. I have a lot of self-pleasure sessions. Nothing new there, really. But now I can’t just call up a friend and have him or her come over to give me benefits.

6. Are you still having sex with other people while in quarantine? If so, please explain.

No sex in real life, just in my imagination. I had another crazy sex dream about Peter Dinklage the other night. I know, right? If only he and I were dining together in my dream. . .

7. How often are you watching pornography, using sex toys, or engaging in sex addicts that do not involve a partner while in quarantine?

Daily, hourly, right now. . . I mean, if you’re reading this, I’m engaging with you, right?

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

[Hi everyone! We hope that you boys & girls reading this from home are all safe and healthy. We know you’re sexy! We’re interrupting our usual programing of the mini-series “Mount Bliss” to bring you this story. You, our longtime readers and fans, probably know that most of the stories you read here are true, but HH takes a long time to craft them and so they are not usually about what is happening NOW. This is a little different.  It was featured in the May edition of Ethical Non-Monogamy (ENM) Magazine (p. 38).  It’s appropriate not only because it tell you how we are dealing with life under lockdown, but also it’s appropriate since May is Masturbation Month!  We hope you enjoy and we love to hear your stories of how you are doing: downloladown@gmail.com]

How to Practice Ethical Non-Monogamy Under Lockdown

“Fuck me,” she said, “Yeah, like that.”

I looked in the slightly ajar door to see just whom Lola could be fucking during a mandatory lockdown in a global pandemic.

“Oh, yeah,” she cooed as she lay, splayed out on the bed, one hand up inside her, the other squeezing her tits.

She was fucking herself and, apparently telling herself just how much she enjoyed it.

Desperate times, I suppose.

We had been in lockdown for two weeks.  It wasn’t so bad.  We were in Florida, by the beach, which eventually got closed down.  But we had a pool.  That too got closed the second week.  Now, all we had was each other and our health – a lot to be thankful for, no doubt, but not nearly enough for Lo.

We were both working remotely.  It was a little past one in the afternoon.  I was trying to do a conference call to Ms. Gale, my secretary, and one other person, but the moans and groans, gasps and grunts from the bedroom could be heard throughout the small apartment we were renting.  When she transitioned to actual words like “Fuck me.  Yeah, like that,” I had to make an excuse to hang up and go check on my nympho in the bedroom.

I politely waited until she was done – or at least taking a pause from her self-pleasure.

“Lo, come on!”

“What Daddy?”

“It’s one-fifteen.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Don’t you have work to do as well?”

“I’ve always had an hour of me-time scheduled every day on my work calendar, even before this whole Coronavirus thing.  Everyone knows not to bother me for this hour.”

“Do they know what you’re doing on your ‘me-time’?”

“Oh no, Daddy.  Well, I mean, I guess some of them probably have their suspicions.”

“Let me tell you, if you’re as loud in your office as you are here, then everyone knows.”

“I’m sorry, Daddio.  But I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just fuck me.”

“We fucked last night and this morning.”

“So, why not this afternoon?”

“If I fucked you as much as you want it, then I certainly would die during this pandemic, but not from the virus!”

“It’s good exercise.”

“It seems like the only exercise you’ve been getting.”

“Well, the gym’s closed.  Besides, the CDC said that the safest sex anyone can have right now is with themselves.”

“The CDC did not say that!”

“Someone said that.”

“Probably you.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Good grief!  Well, try to keep the sound effects to a minimum.  OK?  I have calls to make.”

While I work the day away, Lola plays.  She carries on about five to ten affairs from afar with various men and women.  Her friend, Nero Black, posted about jacking to her photos while his wife, who rarely gives up her goodies to him, jills it in the next room to taboo incest literotica.  Yet, the married boy best beware if she happens to walk in on him in the onanistic act of worshipping Ms. Down.  Lo has frequently suggested (nay, more than suggested, demanded) that Nero direct his partner’s web browser to mysexlifewithlola, or, at the very least, put the two of them in contact with each other.  But, as of yet, he has refrained.  Many-a-night I’ve had to hear from Lo about how she would have treated the two of them if she were their couples counselor.

Lo is friends with a lovely married couple from NJ, Mike and Danielle.  Mike has been a stay-at-home-dad to his two young daughters while Danielle has done the 9-to-5 at the office.  This has left Mike with time to chat with Lo and fap to Lo when the girls are down for a nap.  Luckily, unlike with Mr. Black, this has all been on the up-and-up with his wife Danielle.  In fact, not only with her blessing, but her encouragement.  She loves to come home and see the cumtributes her husband made to and for Lola.  Then, after the kids are put to bed, they turn on Lo’s pixilated pussy and fuck each other while looking at Lola.

Sharing Couple from NJ Hubby’s Cumtribute to Lola

Sharing Couple of NJ Enjoying the Stories

Sharing Couple of NJ Getting off to Lo

 

Of course, for Lola this is more fodder for the fapper.

Then there’s Floss and Nikki of FlossDoesLife and LoveIsAFetish, respectively.  They both have written raving reviews of the Match, Cinder & Spark books and, what gets Lo going even more, took sexy pics of themselves getting off to the printed page.  What else are you going to do in isolation?

Floss & Lola

Nikki of LoveIsAFetish getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

Both Matt and Nelson of tehben.com have also written glowing, yet critical reviews of the audiobook, narrated by the inimitable Jupiter Grant.

The Beautiful Jupiter Grant

Not only do the reviews get Lo riled up, but Lo listens to Jupiter recite tales of Lo’s ribald antics just about every night, which causes her to alternately laugh and lunge in the bed next to me.

Then there’s the various women Lola’s attempting to seduce via sexy chat: Chelle Silverstein, Francesca Demont, and a woman who goes by the cyber-chat name of Warm Skin. 

Warm Skin Getting off to Lo

Don’t get me wrong, this whole ordeal has taken its toll on all of us in so many ways, and Lo is not exempt from that.  There are the nights that Lo can’t sleep due to anxiety about losing her job.  Afternoons that Lo returns from food shopping and has a full-blown panic attack that she has contracted the virus and is certain to pass it on to me.  Lo’s greatest fear? – dying alone.  That means, if I die first, which is more than likely given our age difference, then who will be there for her?  So, worse than her getting sick, in her mind, is my getting sick and dying!  There is the frequent fretting about family members who are already fighting this virus in far-flung points on the map.  Yes, we don’t talk about family too much here, but we do have relatives who are now among the ever-growing statistics you read about in the news.

For Lo, the go-to stress relief from all this ever-higher mountain of seen and unseen woe is found right between her legs.

Lo practicing Social Distancing Stress Relief, pass it along.

Finally, of course, there is just your straight-up porn that Lo has been watching.  Lo has a penchant for amateur porn and her latest infatuation is with the couple Lindsey and Mike Love.  Just as Lo and I fulfill the fantasies of many of our fans, I believe, Lindsey and Mike live out the fantasy life of Lo.  A married couple who enthusiastically got into porn together from the tender age of eighteen and rise to amateur stardom, getting rich and having fun.  I think the thing that Lo likes the most about the pair is that they have a real relationship, a story, and that they are very open to exploring sex with all genders, together and solo.

An hour later, Lo emerged from the bedroom.  “Daddy, it’s hot in there.  Will you help me open the window?”

I entered Lo’s lair of self-love.  I opened the window with ease to let in the ocean breeze, but it immediately deflated downward.

“Is it broken?” asked Lo.

“I don’t know.  It definitely doesn’t stay up like it used to.”

Without missing a beat she quips, “I’m sure you can relate.”

Stay safe everyone and we’ll see you on the internet.

Lola in all her glorly!

Hallmark of a Happy Hotwife

 

Lola helps her bf cum

Writing is a solitary act.  Writing a sex blog is not.  Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.

“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.

Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean?  Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”

After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.  I love helping couples cum together.”

My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.

A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.

“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.

“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.

“Justin.”

“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”

Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.

“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.

“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”

“What is?”

“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”

“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”

“I recommend you get it hard.”

“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.

“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”

One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him.  She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men.  The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”

One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.

“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.

“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.

“Do men just want to see your pussy?”

“No,” she said, “women do too.”

“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”

She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“Oooo, what sort of game?”

“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”

“Funny, but no.  Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”

“I can’t, I have to get to work.”

“Just bend me over and fill me up.”

“It’s not a Quickie Mart.  I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”

“Why not?”

I walked over to her.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart.  I touched her inner thigh.

“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Then I should be doing you.  I wanted you last night,” she said.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”

“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”

“You didn’t say you wanted me.”

“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”

“I like to hear you say it.”

She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed.  She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips.  “Get back in bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“What do you want?”

“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”

I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit.  “OK.”

She fondled me more.  “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”

“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”

“Fuck me.”

Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”

“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me.  I’m always open.”

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a lot of things to do.  You were just first on the list.”

I went to work.  It was her “work at home” day.  Yeah, right.

When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.

“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said.  “Feed me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your meat.”

This was as close as a request as I was going to get.  I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her.  I reached down between her legs.

“You’re sopping wet.”

“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”

“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.

“I jilled it this morning.”

“Without me?!”  Again, faux-surprise.

“I got lonely.”

“Lonely or horny?”

“Both.”

“So you jilled it all morning?”

“Not all morning.  It went into the afternoon.”

“And you still want me now?”

“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.

“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”

“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”

“What do you think this is, golf?”

“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”

“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.

I was poised to penetrate her.  She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit.  She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.”  Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that.  Yes.”  Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”

I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you.  I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”

“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my lunch.  That’s what I came home to do.”

“But what about me?” she whined.

“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”

“And diddling my bean!”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”

“Don’t go!” she pleaded.

“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”

“Get in the bed and fuck me.”

“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”

“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”

“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.

“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”

“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”

I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.

I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”

It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”

“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling out.  “I’m going to go out for lunch.”

I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.

I popped back in and looked at her.

“Unarmed?” I asked.

Another pillow flew at me.  I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.

Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”

“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”

“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”

I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”

When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.

“It’s not a sundress.  It’s a shirt.”

“Well, it should be a sundress.  What an ass!  You look great in that sundress!”

“It’s not a sundress!”

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“No.  But I think it’s cute that you want to.”

“You look so good.  Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”

When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.

“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up.  Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.

“What?”

“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”

“Robert?!  Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  I should have told you.”

“When did these plans happen?”

“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.

“Lo.”

“After you left.  I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”

“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.

“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.

“No,” I said.  “I’m tired and I’m hungry.  I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”

“That still might happen,” she said.  “The night is young.”

“And I’m old.”

“You can say that again.”

“And I’m old.”

“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”

“You weren’t even born then.”

“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you.  I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you.  You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”

I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.

Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.

“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.

“Did you jack off to it at work?”

“No!”

“Well why not?  You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know.  A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work.  I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”

“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”

“Precisely.”

“But I can fuck you at home.”

“It’s not the same.”

Just then the doorbell rang.  Robert was at the door.

“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.

“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.

“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”

“Not longer than an hour?”

“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”

I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out.  “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.

Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”

I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table.  No Robert.

She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.

One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”

“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’  You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”

“That’s funny,” she said to me.

“Shake a stick at?”

“Yeah.”

“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her.  “How was your dinner date?”

She didn’t answer my question.  She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.

She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me.  She clearly wanted me to fuck her.  But I wanted her to ask.  She said, “You have to learn to intuit.  Intuit!  Intuit!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face.  Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.

She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.

A breathy moan.

She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.

She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.

“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”

“Well, I think you need to take a break.”

“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”

“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”

“It enhances the experience.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.

She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.

She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife.  “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”

“Such a sincere sentiment.  It should go in a Hallmark card.”

“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.

“What is?”

“A line of Lola greeting cards.”

“Perhaps you could create them.  I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”

And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s quite alright.  Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm.  Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”

“I’m sorry!” she said again.

“It’s ok.  I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”

“It was hardly premature,” she said.

She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before.  Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.

“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.

I couldn’t answer.  I was too busy imagining her with Robert.

“Did you get a good meal?  Did it fill you up?  I was so full up,” she said.

I was speechless.

“Were you thinking of me, Daddy?  Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me?  Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”

“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”

“No, Daddy.  We just fucked.  He bent me over the table and fucked me.  Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table.  The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all.  Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass.  Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another.  He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care.  I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet.  Fuck me!  Fuck my holes!  I said, but he came and came deep in me.  He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”

She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum.  And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously.  So much that it came out of her nose.  She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.

“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.”  I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”

Lola’s Christmas Card

Inveterate Masturbator

It’s almost 9:00 a.m. and Lo hasn’t emerged from the bedroom yet.  I walk into the bedroom and as I open the door I find her lying on the bed, tum down, ass up, in her left hand she holds her phone and she is staring at it intently as her right hand manipulates a dildo in her puss and another in her ass.  She looks up briefly, caught in the act.

“I would join you, but I see you’re full up,” I say snidely.

“You can be next.  Just give me about ten more minutes.”

“You realize, it’s a quarter-to-nine, right?”

She waves me off, resentful of the interruption, concerned about the distraction.

When I walk in again at five-to-nine, she’s already in her tight pants, her pumps, and blouse, ready to go to work.

“What happened to my turn?” I inquire.

“Sorry Daddio, but I only had room for three this morning.”

“What do you mean, room for three?”

“I mean, three orgasms.”

“I didn’t even hear you.”

She shrugs her shoulders and walks into the bathroom to fix her hair.  When she does, I take a surreptitious glance at her phone.  I see that she had made a phone call at 8:47 to Brian.  I guess that’s why she was so quiet.

“You know,” I call to her from the bed, “you’re an inveterate masturbator.”

“What’s ‘inveterate’ mean, Daddy?” she asks in her little-girl voice.

“Chronic, confirmed, hardened, incurable, incorrigible, habitual, unrepentant.”

“Yep, that sounds like me.  I like it: Inveterate Masturbator.  It could be my superhero name.”

“And your superpower would be. . .  making yourself cum?”

“That and the power to make others cum.  You want to cum, Daddio?” she asks teasingly.

“Yes, yes I do!”

“Tell me more.”

“I want to cum.  Isn’t that enough?”

“Tell me how you want to cum,” she says, walking over to me and putting her hand on my crotch.

“I want to cum in you, on you, for you, under you – choose your preposition.”

“Do you want me to tug your cock and jack you off or do you want me to suck it or do you want to fuck my puss or do you want to fuck my ass?”

“Preferably, a little of each, you know, like tapas.”

“Hmmm,” she hums, “I like that.”  Then, abruptly, she turns and walks out of the bedroom.  “Too bad I have to go to work,” she calls over her shoulder.  “I guess you’ll just have to be hard-up for me all day.”

That is too much.  All niceties are off.  “What about your friend?” I call back to her.

“My friend?” she asks as she slips into her heels.

“Yeah, Brian, who you had phone sex with this morning.”

“Daddy,” she says, stopping in her tracks, “you were snooping.”

“Yeah, so.  It doesn’t change the fact.”

“Well, I guess you’ll just have to be really hard-up all day until I get home and have the time to tell you about it.  Kisses,” she says as she puckers up.  I am in no mood to kiss her after that torture.  She waits with her eyes closed.  When she feels nothing on her lips, she opens one eye and then the other.  “Fine,” she says, “if you don’t want to kiss me, I’ll find someone who does.”

With that she walks out the door.

Hopeless, Romantic

 

I walked into the office and said, “Ms. Gale, please block out the week of July first through July tenth.  I’m going on vacation.”

She looked up from her desk, her blue eyes framed by her wide-rimmed glasses, and asked, “Vacation?!  Where?”

“That’s right, vacation.  I’ve gotta get outta here.  I booked a resort hotel for Lo and me on a beach in Maui.”

“Ooooo, really?” she squealed with excitement.  “Are you going to propose to her there?”

The question took me by surprise.  “Propose?  Why would I do a darn-fool thing like that?”

“Because, Mr. H., that’s what people do at those romantic resorts on the beach.”

“People,” I said with scorn.  “I am not people.”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?  Why are you just stringing her along?”

“Ms. Gale, you are correct, I am madly in love with Lola.”

“So why don’t you get married to her?”

“Because I am madly in love with Lola.  I am not madly in love with marriage.  Marriage is a comfort that, once achieved, leads to the erosion of love.”

“Oh, Mr. H., you’re such a stick-in-the-mud.”

“And you, Ms. Gale, are a busybody twenty-something who has never been married, divorced, or lived fifty some-odd years to learn from experience.”

“Well, that’s no reason not to get married.”

“If you’re so crazy about marriage, why don’t you marry Lola?” I asked as I walked out of the reception area where Ms. Gale had her desk, slamming the door to my private office.

That was how my day started.  It only got worse from there.  Needless to say, by the end of the work day, which was nine at night for me, I was in no mood for Lo’s tomfoolery.

I walked into the bedroom, found Lola naked under the sheets, doing what Lola is always doing when she’s naked under the sheets with easy access to her phone, and I began to undo my tie and remove my button-down shirt.

“Oh yeah,” Lo moaned.

“Is that meant towards me, or your porn video?” I asked as I removed my pants.

Without taking her eyes off the video or her hand from between her legs, she said, “Yes.”

I washed up in the bathroom and returned, taking off my pants and getting under the sheets next to Lo.  “Well, Daddio, am I going to get any tonight?” she asked as she was rubbing her pussy lips under the covers with one hand and holding my flaccid cock with the other hand, the phone with the video still playing next to her, flat on the bed.  I could hear the couple in the video moaning and groaning.

“You have to get me hard first,” I said.

“That seems to be an insurmountable obstacle,” she replied, lifting and dropping my soft dick.

“Really?  I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“I never have had that problem. . . with other men.”

Within moments I was asleep, or so Lo told me the next morning.  She had to get her rocks off without me. . . again.

When I woke in the morning, I found her curled up next to me, her eyes already open.  “You can fuck me if you want to” were her first words to me.

Luckily, having expelled all my bad feelings of the previous day through my sleep, I was very “up” that morning.

“Roll over on your back and spread your legs,” I said.  My first words to her.

“Oh, Daddy!  You’re so romantic!”  I honestly couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic.

I positioned myself over her naked body and took a good look at her.  “You look good,” I said.

“Prove it!”

“The proof is in the puddin’, and I’m puddin’ it in you.”  I slid in.  She was dripping wet.  “Lo,” I said once I was deep inside her.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know.  Why?”

“Did you jill it?”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Daddy, I’ve been jillin’ it since last night.  I have no idea how many times.  I’m sore and soaked and I want you.”

“What have you been jillin’ it to?”

“Daddy, I can’t remember it all.  Just shut up and fuck me.  Please.”

I shut up and gave her what she asked for.  But she asked, “Can I turn over, Daddy, please?”

I let her turn onto her tum and she put her ass up in the air to be had from behind.  But then I saw her grabbing her phone and looking at it.  One hand held it up for her to see and the other was manipulating her clit. I tried to see what she was looking at, but couldn’t quite make it out.

“Lo, what is that?” I asked as I leaned forward and put my hands on her shoulders to see better.

“Never you mind.  Just get back there and do your job.  I want to feel you, hard and deep and hard.”

I complied with her demands.  She came.  At the moment when I felt her pussy clench on my cock, I came too, deep inside her.  She collapsed into the pillows, dropping her phone.  I fell on top of her.  Eventually, I slowly pulled out.  Looking down at her, I quoted one of her favorite films, “Little full, lotta sap.”

She laughed and then said, “Clean me up.”

I took care of her and then suddenly she was up and out of bed.

“I have to go now,” she said.

“But you only just came!”

“Work, Daddio.  I have a job, remember?”

She went into the bathroom to get ready.  I picked up her phone and went through her browsing history.  I was shocked by what I saw, but I figured I’d ask her about it that evening, when we could explore her fantasies together.  I put down her phone as if I wasn’t looking at it just as she opened the door to the bathroom.  She was putting on her makeup.  “Honest answer,” she called to me, “do I look like a trollop to you?”

“Honestly? – Not enough of a trollop.”

“Perfect.  That’s just what I’m going for.”