Tag Archives: Ass

Schrödinger’s Pussy

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“Lily texted me,” I texted to Lola, “and she invited me to meet her at the bar to watch the World Series.”  It was the seventh game.  She was hoping to see her team win.  “Do you want to join?”

“Will Jim be there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Nah,” Lola texted, “I’ll stay in.”

I walked into the crowded watering hole after a long day at work.  Lily, was sitting at the bar, close to the TV.  To my surprise, she had saved me a stool next to her.  She gave me a hug and turned toward me.  Despite the cold October air, she was wearing only a short skirt and a thin, loose fitting blouse.  Her legs were spread a bit as she talked to me.

“Where’s Jim?” I inquired.

“He’s with some of his friends watching at their house.”

“You didn’t want to join them?”

I could see that she hadn’t invited me there just to watch the game.  She was already on her second drink of the night.  What was on her mind?

After just a little prodding (it didn’t take much), she revealed her true design.  She was looking for some free legal advice and simultaneously looking for some special attention.

She had recently graduated and got her Master’s in Sexuality and Gender Studies.  Now she was looking to do something with that degree and was interested in becoming a “Sex and Spirit Guide” to individuals and couples.  The question on her mind was, “If my therapeutic techniques involve hands-on help and I accept money for it, what’s the legal distinction between that and prostitution?”

It was a real zinger of a query – one that they don’t ask you in law school!  And my first inclination was to say, “I’m not sure I follow.  Could we please go back to your place and you can provide me with a demonstration in order that I understand what you do a little better?”  But I wisely withheld that request, which was purely for the academic purpose of gaining clarity, and I asked instead, “So you envision digitally manipulating and stimulating your clients?”

“Well, not only that, but possibly role-playing, BDSM experimenting, discovering their inhibitions through play therapy – you know, taking them on a real sexual and spiritual journey to the seat of their soul.”

“Wow!” I said, “It sounds very Jungian.”  Once more the images of Sabina Spielrein and Carl Jung came to mind.

“Yeah, this morning I had a professional photographer come to take some risqué photos to advertise my services.”

I got lost in my imagination as I envisioned the scene, but she continued.  “And Jim even joined for some of them.”

“Oooh,” I cooed, “Boudoir photos?”

“Some were,” she replied alluringly.  She began to pull out her phone as if ready to show me the raw, unedited shots.  I wanted to look.  I wanted to tell her all about the blog.  I wanted to divulge everything.  But I knew better.  First, it’s Lo’s secret to reveal, not mine.  That has always been the rule.  Second, I’ve learned that letting on to the blog to people who are in the blog creates a Schrödinger’s Pussy situation – where the knowledge of being observed contaminates the observation.

Again I got lost in my thoughts.

She was clearly trying to attract my attention.  She regained it as she unlocked her phone.  I fumbled for my words a bit and said something stupid like the answer to her legal question would take some research.  “A deep dive,” I remember saying.

“If you could advise me,” she said, playing the role of the helpless dancer in need of a savior, “I’d appreciate it so much.  I want to heal people, not get arrested.”

Her allusion to consequences kept me in check and I soon paid my tab and said a friendly farewell to her, looking forward to going home to my sweet slutwife.

I got in late.  I found Lola in bed, almost asleep, Stoya on my pillow.

“What’s this?” I asked.  “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said.  “Come to bed.  I’ll explain.”

I removed my clothes, washed up, and got in bed.  She was on the verge of sleep.  I moved Stoya to the nightstand.

“I’m all ears. . . and a penis,” I said.

She rolled over toward me.  “I was bad,” she began.  I could have figured that.  “I was thinking of Heather and Erin and all the other women I’ve been with.  I was feeling like being with a woman tonight.”

“So you took out Stoya?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I tried a little experiment,” she said.

“Schrödinger’s Pussy,” I muttered under my breath, recalling my conversation of earlier in the evening.

“What?”

“Nothing.  Continue.”

“I fingered myself a bit, rubbed some of my girly juice on her lips, fingering her, and put her over my clit.  I fucked her pussy with my clit.”

“Did you cum?”

“Many times.  It really does feel pretty realistic.”

She hugged me and asked, “Are you mad?”

“No.  But I take it you didn’t wash her properly when done.”

“Sorry Daddy.”

I got out of bed and performed the recommended cleaning to Stoya’s pussy and then hung her out to airdry.

When I got back into bed, Lo was sound asleep on her tum.  I was on my back.  My right hand caressed her back.  Then her lower back.  Then the roundness of her rump.  Then between her legs.  I could feel how wet she was still.  My fingers circled around her pussy, becoming soaked.  I then slid one finger back and did circles around her other special spot.  Slowly, gently, furtively, I dipped in, just a bit.  No response.  Then a bit more.  Lo’s ass raised slightly.  A little more.  She either consciously or unconsciously elevated her hips.  She looked like an inchworm as my finger wormed its way into her bum.*

Then a moan.  Then a sigh.  Then a “Daddy, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, Lo.  Sleep.”

I was in up to my first knuckle.  I went deeper.  And deeper.  And then added a finger.  Her ass indicated it liked what it was getting.  It was completely relaxed and open to exploration.

And then, without warning, it seized up on my fingers.  It clenched like a vice and I heard Lo’s breathing accelerate.  After only a few seconds it was over.  I pulled my fingers out.  She was back to sleep.  I was hard-up.

“There’s always Stoya,” I thought.

 

* See the story, “Sin-esthesia” in which Lo gives her “blanket consent” to being fucked while asleep.

Open Auditions

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Littlegem of PurplesGem reads about Lola Down

 

As I have mentioned in the past, we receive a lot of fan mail.  Most of it is for Lo, of course, but, on occasion, I receive a kind epistle from an adoring fan.  Sometimes, the cursory reader gets confused.  Like the time a guy wrote to Lo saying, “You’re an incredible writer.”

She wrote back, “No, no.  Not me.  My man, HH.  He does the writing, I do the fucking.”

Lo and HH – much younger.

Recently, one fan of my writing wrote in asking if Lo ever gets enough pleasure and, “Do you ever get tired of writing about sex or is it always fresh for you?”

Lo was sitting on the couch reading the email, her bare legs spread as one hand held her phone and the other pleasured herself (she never gets enough pleasure – there’s the answer to your first questions), when she looked up at me, sitting at the other end of the couch, to read to me the fan’s email.

I pondered for a moment, we discussed it a bit, and she responded, “We have these amazing adventures that we just want to share with other people.  I guess it’s like a travel blog, but for sex.  We like to take you on our journeys with us.”

“How about we make it more like a food blog?” I asked Lo.  “I eat you out and then I can write about the four-course meal later.”

“Four courses?”

“Yeah: pussy, ass, mouth, and then you lick my popsicle for dessert.”

“As much fun as that sounds, slide over here and look at this,” she said.

She spread her legs wider and I sat between them.  One of her legs was up on my lap and the other behind my back.  “I like this,” I said, looking at her delectable body.

“You might like this even more because it appeals to your insatiable ego.”

“Oh yeah?  Well, you have my attention now!”

“I didn’t before?”

“Before you had my erection.”

“Let me see,” she demanded.

“No.  First you show me whatever it is that’s going to aggrandize my ego.”

“I said ‘appeal to your ego.’  It’s impossible aggrandize.  I don’t think it could get any bigger.”

“Are we still talking about my ego?”

“Take a look at this,” she said, turning her phone so I could see the photo.

It showed a beautiful naked woman reading, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume: III, Writing Under Cover.

“Oh my!  Who is that?!”

“Littlegem,” she said, referring to one of our blogging community friends across the pond.

“Really?”

“You like?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically.  It’s one thing to be told that my writing turns people on, but to see it happening is quite thrilling.

“And that’s not all,” said Lo, swiping the photo to reveal another.  The second photo was in black-and-white.

“Wow!”

“OK,” said Lo, “I was wrong.  Apparently there was room for your ego to grow.”

“Something’s growing alright.”

“Then I shouldn’t tell you what else Littlegem said.”

“Tell, tell!”

“Well. . . she said she wants to do a recording of her reading your writing while having her clit teased.”

“Like Stoya did for ‘Hysterical Literature’?”

Stoya Reading MySexLifeWithLola

“Don’t mention her.”

“Oh, right.  Still, that’s amazing!”

“I think it would be great because I got an email from another fan who is blind.”

“Blind?!”

“Yes, blind.”

“How the hell did he find our blog?”

“Apparently, he has someone read the stories for him.”

“Oh my God!  That is one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard!!!”

“Yeah,” said Lo, “and it got me thinking.  We should totally do an audio book since I’m sure there are lots of long-distance haulers who would like to have me as their companion across the lonely stretches of highway.”

“I’m sure they would.”

“And people who want to hear about my sexcapades on their way to work.”

“The morning drive will never be the same.”

“And insomniacs who could use a good bedtime story.”

“Nothing like a good wank at the end of a long day to induce sleep.”

“So you see, it’s really necessary for everyone’s well-being that we do this.”

“Indubitably.  And are you going to be the one to record the stories?”

“Oh no!” said Lo.  “I’m no actor.  All my orgasms are real.”

“Of course.  Then who?”

“I’ll put out a call for open auditions.”

[Note to reader, if you haven’t checked out PurplesGem yet, you really should. They’re a great BDSM/kink couple. Great writing and photos. Below are some of our favorite photos from them, with permission, of course.]

[p.s.  – If YOU want to audition for our audiobook, then go to ACX.com and look for “Match, Cinder & Spark.”  If you can’t find it, email us: downloladown@gmail.com]

Thigh Gap

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Because of her trysts with Robert, Lola stopped fucking me for a while.  I turned to my right-hand woman: Stoya.  But Lola found out.  Don’t ask me how.  A woman’s sixth sense, I suppose.  Lola told me I can have whatever I want, so long as I ask for it.  But I’m too proud to ask.  I’m used to being asked by her.

I went into the bedroom and I texted to Lo, who was in the living room, “Hello Stoya, It’s just you and me now.”

She texted back, “If you want something, ask for it.”

I responded, “Come here and jack me off.”

She entered the bedroom and said, “I’ll jack you off, on one condition.”

I didn’t say anything or even move.

“Do you hear me?”

“I’m all ears. . . and a dick.”

“After I jack you off, you will write that story about me and Robert.”

“You expect me to write on commission?!  I’ve never been more insulted in my life!  I’m an artist, a poet, a philosophical. . .”

“A pompous ass and a purveyor of pornographic smut.”

“Now that’s just redundant.”

“No, it would be smut writing even without the pornographic images of me.  The pornography just makes it fun to look at as well.”

“Fair enough, but still unfair to my artistic sensibilities.”

“You’re not sensible at all!  You’re the furthest from sensible.  You’re immersed in your senses.  That’s why you’re such a great writer of erotica.”

“Well, now you’re pandering to my vanity.”

“Your vanity is six-fifths of your ego.”

“And?”

“Never mind.  Are you going to write the story or what?”

“Of course I’m going to write the story, but not because you’re going to give me a hand-job.  I’m going to write for art!  Art!  Do you hear me?”

“Who’s this fella Art?  Have I fucked him?”

“Droll, dear, very droll.”

We both got naked and I placed my cock in a prominent position above her naked body.  Her legs were spread and her pussy lips were wet and partially parted.

“Why do you only want me to jack you off when you have your cock poised right between my pussy lips?”

“Because,” I retorted snidely, “if you want something, you have to ask for it.”

She reached between her legs and began slowly stroking me.  Then she got an idea.  She grabbed Stoya from the nightstand and applied her wetness to Stoya’s pussy.  She then bent over the side of the bed and put the entire contraption between her legs; the imitation pussy just below her actual pussy.

“Fuck the pussy you want,” she said.

Just to get her goat, I fucked Stoya.

She turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No, I’m fucking Stoya.  No kidding,” I said.

I liked being able to see her hole as I filled the insentient being held in place by her thigh gap.

I continued like that, as she grew bored and impatient.  As I felt myself leading up to a climax, I pulled out of Stoya and flipped Lo on her back in order that she would feel the heat of my love on every part of her body except between her legs.  (Also, cleaning my cum out of Stoya is a pain in the ass.)  After mopping up the cum on her face, neck, and tits, she pulled out her Hitachi.

“Are you just going to sit there?” she asked me as she placed the vibrating toy between her legs.

“That’s exactly what I was planning on doing,” I said, “so you can ejaculate on me and we can call it even.”

“As fun as that sounds,” she said, “you have work to do.  Go get writing while I get myself off.”

Absolution

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[Continued from “Holding on Comes Easy“]

Last I remembered, Lo had engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between Robert and me.  When I woke in the morning, she was sound asleep, her back toward me, and Robert had his hands around her waist.  I was turned toward them, my arm drooped over her side, my hand fondling her breast, and my cock rigid and eager for more attention.

I carefully extricated myself from the bed, found a robe and quietly went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

As I sat down to take my first sip, Lo suddenly appeared in the kitchen wearing one of Roberts t-shirts and nothing else.  She was carrying a bundle of clothes.

“Here,” she said, passing the clothes off to me.

“And a good morning to you too,” I said sarcastically.

“Get dressed.”  They were my clothes.

“What?”

“Get dressed.  You have to get out of here.”

I was perplexed.  “What do you mean I. . .”

“Imogen is still sleeping.  When she wakes up, she can’t find you here.  Remember, she thinks I’m Robert’s girlfriend and you’re just Robert’s friend.  You have to go home.”

“Are we still putting on that little ruse?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, if that’s the case, why don’t I just crawl into bed with Imogen?”

Lo gave me an angry look.

“Ok, Ok,” I said.  “I’ll get dressed and go.”

She gave me a quick peck on the cheek to show her appreciation.  “Don’t worry, Daddy,” she said, “I will make it up to you.”

My cock must have liked her tone because it immediately popped up like a little puppy who just heard the treats bag open.

“Nope, none of that now,” said Lo curtly, before turning tail and returning to the bedroom with Robert.

I dutifully got dressed and went home to shower, have more coffee, and nurse my hangover.

Sometime later I got a call from Lo.  She sounded out of breath.

“Lo?”

Pause.  “Yeah?”

“Are you ok?”

Pause.  “Yeah.”

“Are you at Robert’s?”

Pause.  “Yeah.”

“Are you fucking?”

“Yes, Daddy, he’s behind me, fucking my ass now.  What would you like us to do next?”

 

 

 

I won’t deny that I was titillated by the call, but I was also furious.  I was home, hard-up and hungover, while she was being banged by her backdoor man.

“I want you to tell me you love me.”

Long pause.  “I – I – I love you, Daddy,” I heard.

I put the phone down for a moment and hurriedly grabbed my Stoya Fleshlight, some lube, and picked up the phone again.  Lo was screaming.  I could hear Robert smacking her ass.

“Daddy, I love you,” she repeated.

I slid the prosthetic vagina down on my cock.  I held the phone with my left hand and slid the contraption up and down with my right.  I listened to Lo getting fucked.  She was calling out, “Harder.  Harder.  Deeper.  Cum in my ass.  Cum deep in my ass.”  As she was saying that, I thought of how Robert came in her mouth after fucking her ass yesterday.

“Daddy,” she said into the phone, “I want him to cum in my ass.  Do you want him to cum in my ass too?”

My eyes were shut.  I was vividly imagining her bent over his dresser, Robert behind her, looking at her tits swinging in the mirror as he fucked her from behind.  I pictured her left hand holding the phone to her ear and her right hand moving back to her ass, pulling her right cheek to spread as wide as she could go for him to bury his long dick in her bum.  Maybe she was fingering her hole as well.

I heard her ramping up, going into the overture to her orgasm.

I slid Stoya’s cunt up and down more vigorously and I could feel my cuckolded cum rising to the surface.  Lo launched into her operatic aria and I could hold out no longer.  I came and came deep inside Stoya as Robert came deep inside Lola.

A perfect triple play!

After we all were able to bask in the beauty of the trifecta, Lo stayed on the phone with me as Robert went to clean up.

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

“You.  Are.  Amazing,” was all I could say.

“Do you like seeing him make me cum, Daddy?”

“I didn’t see you,” I said, confused.

“I meant yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said.  “You’re a dirty, dirty girl.”

“Am I bad?”

I changed the topic, fearing she’d get all riled up again.  “Is Imogen still there?” I asked.

“Oh her?  No.  She woke up, I think a little embarrassed and very hungover, and we called her a cab.  She only had fragments of memory from last night, but she asked me to say something nice to you.”

“Oh, and what was that?”

“She really just said, ‘Say something nice to him.’”

I laughed and she did too.  Apparently all was forgiven.  Nothing absolves me of my transgressions like Lola’s seducing men to sodomize her.

A Little Side Hustle

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[Continued from “The Dinner Party“]

Soon the guests had arrived.  Because they were an international contingent traveling together, they all arrived together rather than in drips and drabs.  There were eight of them; two women and four men.

Thank goodness it was buffet style and not a sit-down dinner because with those numbers and pairings I would have been the odd-man-out.  Or, at least that was my first thought.  But then, as the guests were introduced to me, I had a follow-up thought: If Lola is Robert’s partner, then that means, for all intents and purposes to these folks, I am single, available, and, I hope, an attractive American catch!  Ah-ha!  Two can play at Lola’s little game!

Yes, each of the Aussies were introduced to me, but I’m horrible at names.  The only name I remembered was Imogen.  Of the two female guests, she was the older, more mysterious, more attractive, and more married.  It also helped that she was named after a Shakespearian character.  She looked like she was thrilled to be so far away from home where what happens here stays here.  I was very pleased to make her acquaintance.

Imogen had sandy blonde hair and hazel eyes.  She had a very casual, relaxed attitude and was dressed in tight jeans with heels and a very sheer, sleeveless white top.  When she drank, it was with her left hand and that gesture displayed her very large, prominent wedding ring.  I’ll admit, I was also taken in by her accent and foreign phrases.

The guests mingled and made small-talk and Lo played her part to a tee.  She kept her left hand in the nook of Robert’s right arm and positively glowed as he introduced her to each of his colleagues as his partner.  Her eyes sparkled and her mouth was inviting.

Small dishes and appetizers were served.  Wine was poured.  Eventually we all found our way to the living room where there was ample seating.  Lo brought out a tray of cheese and crackers and other little bites and placed it on the low coffee table in the center.  As she bent over to carefully set it down, I could see up her short black skirt.  So could others, I’m sure.  She looked so dainty in full hospitality mode.  Little would anyone suspect that Robert had been ramming his rod up her beautiful Betty Boop just a little while ago.

She took her “proper” place next to Robert on the couch.  Her right hand was gently, maybe unconsciously, stroking up and down his pantleg as she would normally do to me when we had company at our house.  It was a surreal feeling, as if we had broken up and now I was viewing her with her new man at a soiree that we both, coincidentally, happened to attend.  However, every now and again she would glance my way and give me a knowing look, as if to say, “This is all just show.  I’m going to jump your bones tonight ’cause this is making me so horny.”

I positioned myself next to Imogen and made some small talk with her.  I expressed exaggerated interest in her, looking deep into her eyes and feigning a strong connection to whatever she said.  Occasionally I gave a sidelong glance at Lo to insure that she was seeing my Academy-worthy performance as much as I was a witness to hers.  Maybe I overplayed my hand.  Soon Imogen was actually making the moves on me!  I mean, I liked her and found her attractive, but I certainly wasn’t looking for anything other than a counterpoint to Lo’s cruel counterfeit.

I got up and made my way to the kitchen.  Lo followed, excusing herself in order to get some of the entrée.  She stomped right up to me and in a hushed voice she threatened, “You stop your little flirtation or you will be sorry.  You hear me?”

“Lo,” I stammered.  “I was hardly flirting.”

“Oh, that’s so interesting,” she mocked my voice.  “Keep it up and. . .”

“And what?” I taunted.  “You’ll sleep with Robert?”

She stomped her foot, but quietly.  She abruptly turned and opened the oven to get the fish.  As she was bending over to take it out using oven mitts, who should appear next to me but Imogen!  “Can I help you with that?” she asked, her lovely accent making the question sound almost like a lilting melody.

“Oh no,” said Lo, “I’ve got it.  It’s just hot, but nothing I can’t handle.”  She was being as pleasant as pie, but I knew her too well and thus was aware that this was her “I’ll kill you with kindness” voice.

Lo brought out all the food and we all ate and drank to excess.  Imogen was uncomfortably cordial toward me.  But the more drinks I got in me, the less concerned about Lo’s feelings I was.

Lo, for her part, was playing the dutiful girlfriend and hanging on Robert’s arm, laughing at his every banal witticism.  Her sparkle, I must admit, brought real life and charm to the party.

After a good deal of indulging, Lo brought out the dessert tray and cozied up next to Robert on the couch again.  In the position she was sitting, I could see her cute tum rolls and it drove me wild!  I watched intently as she ate one delicacy after another, picking up the confections with her fingers and popping them into her mouth.  I thought of how I was feeding her before the guests arrived.  She must have seen me dreaming, because she looked right at me as she seductively put a chocolate truffle into her mouth.

After that, for me, the night wore on.  I just wanted to be alone with Lo, to feed her in both literal and metaphoric ways.  But there still was the problem of Imogen.  She became more and more flirtatious, placing her hand on my knee and occasionally moving close enough to me on the couch that her shoulder and mine were touching.

I felt that I was at an inflection point.  I could take one more drink and throw caution to the wind, indulging Imogen’s interests while ignoring Lo’s warnings.  Or I could cut myself off and take control of the situation.  The former prospect was fraught with problems and so was the latter, especially since I had very knowingly led my Australian married friend to believe that I was truly interested in her.  I knew which was the right choice, but neither was an easy choice.

The Dinner Party

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[Continued from, “Feed it to Me.”]

“Daddy,” asked Lo, “if it’s ok with you, when the guests arrive, I’d like to pretend for the night that I’m Robert’s girlfriend.”

I raised my eyebrows as a confused bunch of emotions swirled in my mind.  Of course one of those emotions was arousal.  But there was also intrigue, surprise, befuddlement, and a twinge of hurt and even a sliver of jealousy.  Why wouldn’t she be ok with introducing me as her partner?  Why the rouse?  All of these thoughts flooded my mind, but then, at the flash of her pearly whites and her sexy red tongue gliding over them seductively, I could see that the real reason for the roleplay was because it excited her.

She liked the thought of taunting me, making me jealous, leaving me in the cold – the third-wheel as she got to be the center of attention.  So, what was I to do?  I capitulated and she gave me a devoted little peck on the cheek as a reward.

She practically danced back to Robert to give him the good news and I saw his face light up.  I imagine he has felt a bit awkward as a middle-aged single guy in a mostly coupled world.  And that awkwardness couldn’t have been diminished at all by coming to our house at all hours of the night for a booty call with Lola.  So, her little charade for the evening’s entertainment must have boosted his confidence.

“You know,” I said to Lo at one point before the guests arrived, “there’s a job for what you do.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, clearly delighted by her acting role.

“It’s called ‘girlfriend rental,’ or something like that.  I saw an article about it a while ago.  Men who don’t have girlfriends can hire a woman to be their date for a company function or even for Thanksgiving!”

“Hmmmmm, interesting,” she pondered, “a little side-hustle.”

Inveterate Masturbator

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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.

Bimbos, Bubble-butts, and Blowjobs

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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.”

 

 

Lo’s Lysistrata

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“No!” she said.

“Why?” I asked.

“You know very well why,” she said, turning around, standing on her tiptoes and pushing out her naked bum.  “If you want this,” she added, slapping her ass for emphasis, “then you’re going to have to earn it.”

A little backstory here is in order.  We were in a fight.  Lo was upset with me.  She was more than upset with me.  She was furious with me.  I had recently hired a red-headed, buxom, bombshell of a woman to do Public Relations for my business.  The fact that she was a red-headed buxom bombshell was most certainly not the reason I had hired her.  She had an impressive résumé, impeccable credentials, and stellar recommendations.  She had found me via LinkedIn and had offered her services to me at just the time when I was thinking of expanding my business into a new market.  In short, there were very good and eminently rational reasons to hire this woman, none of which had to do with her looks.  But Lo couldn’t get beyond the surface appearance.

“A ruby red Jessica Rabbit?!  Really?  You just had to have a complete set, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.

“Your secretary is a blonde bimbo.”

“She’s not a bimbo.”

“Your PR person is a ginger.  And I’m brunette.  You’ve got all your bases covered.”

“Lo, that has nothing to do with it.  Sheer coincidence.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  I’m not even attracted to redheads.”

“All three of your previous girlfriends were redheads.”

“Exactly my point.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“All my ex’s are redheads.  I broke up with them.  Clearly red is not my color.”

“Well, no sex for you until you fire her.”

“I can’t just fire her.  That would be a violation of her rights.”

“What about my rights?” she said, thumbing her chest.

“What about them?”

“Don’t I have the right to peace of mind, quiet enjoyment, not to mention, my conjugal rights?”

“Lo, I’m ready to conjugate right now,” I said, pulling out my hard cock.

“Phhhht,” she replied, “Not until Jessica Rabbit is gone.”

Just to be clear, dear reader, the new PR person was not named Jessica, but for the purposes of this story, we’ll stick with Lo’s derogatory name for her.

“I know you’re a jealous woman but. . .” I began, trying to restate my defense.

“What sort of PR professional posts pics of herself in a thong bikini on the beach on her Instagram page?”

“You looked up her Instagram page?”

“Of course I did.  And I know you did too!”

“I most certainly did not.  But can I see?”

That little attempt at humor was definitely ill timed.  Lo put on her panties and work clothes and walked out of the room in her heels as she lifted her right hand to flip me the bird as she slammed the door behind her and called out, “NO SEX FOR YOU!”

I know that Lola wasn’t thinking rationally because what sense does it make for a nymphomaniac to go on a sex strike in order to get her way?  Nonetheless, she was upset.  Very upset.  And somehow I had to make things right.  But I didn’t know how.  Would she eventually come around?  Would I have to dismiss Jessica?  Would they have a knock down drag out cat fight?  Who knows.

One thing I was confident about was that Lo wouldn’t last long with this protest of hers.  How could she?  Unless she was going to go out there and find someone else to bang, which was always a distinct possibility.

Two, then three, then four days (and nights!) went by and she stuck to her guns.  I wasn’t even allowed to sleep in the same bed with her, but I was subjected to her moans and groans of self-pleasure.  A tantalizing torture.

After the fifth day of this cruel and very unusual punishment, I could take no more.  I had come up with a strategy for winning the war.  I put things into place and two days later, Monday afternoon, my secret weapon arrived by mail in a non-descript cardboard box, about the size of a shoebox.  It had my name on it and I purposefully left it out on the dining room table for Lo to ponder like Pandora’s box.

Like clockwork, when Lo got home and saw it she asked, “What’s that?”

“Oh, just something for me that I ordered on-line,” I replied nonchalantly.

“What is it?” she asked again, picking up the box and shaking it.

“Don’t shake it!” I warned.

“Is it fragile?  Is it for me?”

“It’s really none of your concern,” I said, knowing how much that would piss her off.

“What the fuck is it?!  You’d better tell me right now.”

“Calm down,” I said.  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

“I’ll find out this instant!” she said, stomping her little foot.

“It’s just. . . just something to help me out.”

“Help you out?  How?  Is it a lifetime supply of Viagra?”

“Darling, I certainly don’t need any E.D. medicines.”

“That’s what you think.”

“But you are on the right track.”

“That’s it, I’m opening it up,” she said, making for the kitchen to get scissors.

She returned and violated the sacred law of the postal service – opening another’s mail.  And when she saw what was inside, she flipped out!  All going to plan.

“Stoya the Destroya Signature Fleshlight!”

“Yes,” I said calmly, talking the box from her hands.  “If you’re going on a sex-strike, then I’ll just have to take matters into my own hands,” I said.

“A surrogate pussy?!  You throw that thing out right now!  I will not stand for it!”

“Then get on your back and spread your legs for me.”

“No.”

“OK then,” I said, turning to leave with my pussy in hand.

“Where are you going?”

“To get laid.”

“The hell you are!”

I walked into the bedroom, removed my clothes, took Stoya’s pussy out of the box, read the extensive instructions and warnings, and began to follow the directions.  I was pleased to see that it came with its own small bottle of lube.

Lo walked in.  (I hadn’t locked the door.)

“You’re really going to fuck that thing?” she asked.

“Care to watch?”  (I knew that she wouldn’t or couldn’t resist.)

She sat on the side of the bed as I stroked lube all over my hard cock.  I then put lube on my fingers and began fingering Stoya.

“What are you doing?” she asked, perplexed.

“The instructions clearly say to lubricate the inside before use.”

“Wouldn’t you rather something that’s naturally wet?” she asked as she removed her panties.  She still had on her heels from work and her black dress.  She spread her legs on the bed and pulled at her pussy lips.

“Of course I would,” I said, “but Stoya is primed and ready for me.”  (I was purposefully being an asshole.)

“I’ve been primed and ready.  Wouldn’t you rather pump this,” she asked as she slipped in a couple of fingers.

“Are you really offering?”

“No.  You can’t have it.  I’m mad at you.”

“OK then,” I said as I penetrated Stoya’s soft and supple pussy.  I had two hands on the casing of the Fleshlight and I was sliding it on and off my cock as Lo fingered her own puss with one hand and then really upped the ante by fingering her ass and saying, “Is Stoya tight?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“As tight as my little ass?”

“I doubt it.”

“Do you want my ass?” she asked, fingering both her holes in front of me as I looked on hungrily.

I continued fucking Stoya, imagining I was fucking Lola.  “You know, there’s a Stoya anal Fleshlight as well,” I said.

“Then fuck that, because you can say goodbye to these!” she retorted as she turned around on the bed so she was lying on her tum, her head propped up by her hands.  I could still see her ass as her dress was flapped up over her waist.  I knew that something Lo loves is seeing guys masturbate.  She frequently requested that I jack it for her and she can never get enough since she can’t both watch me and have me.  That’s why she wants two men at the same time.

I did as she commanded and slid the pussy down and back on my rod.  I could see her grow visibly jealous of the device.

“What?” I said at her displeasure, “You have your Hitachi, your double-ended-dildo, your Remus, your. . .”

“Shut up and cum already,” she said.

“And you’re jealous of me because once, ONCE, in however many years I get a sex toy for myself?!”

“What about your sheath?  Your penis extender?”

“That was for you, not me.”

“Enough dialogue.  Fuck that pussy and cum if you’re gonna cum.”

“If you really want me to cum,” I said, “then hold it for me.”

“You want me to hold Stoya’s pussy so you can fuck her instead of me?”
“Well, are you willing to give me your pussy?”

She reached out and held onto the thick trunk of the sleeve.  I fucked more vigorously.  Her mouth opened.  At the crucial moment, I pulled out and, without warning, ejaculated the money shot all over her delighted face.  She was dripping in my cum when she said, “That. Was. Amazing.”

[p.s. – This installment of mysexlifewithlola was not sponsored by Stoya or Fleshlight, nor are we affiliated with them. (Though we’d love to be!  Hint hint.)

 

Slap Shot

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“Tell me about the hockey team,” I say.

“What hockey team?” she asks.

“Don’t be coy Roy,” I say.

“Oooohhhh, you mean the hockey team that I met on my trip.”

“Yeah, that hockey team.  Why?  Is there another I should know about?”

“There are a lot of hockey teams in the world.”

“And you’re just the gal for each of them, aren’t you?”

“If you say so,” she says, batting her eyelids.

“Just tell me about the hockey team you began telling me about the other night.”

She had begun telling me about it the night she returned from her business trip, but I was so primed and ready for our reunification that I didn’t last long enough to hear any more than the teasing preview.  Now a few weeks had gone by of my living in ecstatic mystery wondering about her little hints and jibes and I felt ready to hear the full-length tale.

“First,” she says, “get naked and lie on your back.”

I follow instructions.

She pulls out the massage oil and drips it over my cock.  She begins to rub as the starts up where she left off.

“I told you, I was on my way back up to my hotel room when I got in the elevator with a bunch of guys who had arrived in town for a hockey tournament.  I think they positively could smell how horny I was.  They began to make small talk with me and I flirted back.  They told me that they had the entire ninth floor of the hotel.  I told them I was on the eleventh floor and I asked if they were up for coming up.”

“Let me guess, they were all very hard-up.”

“Oh yeah,” she says, caressing my member with both hands.  “Just like you. . . only bigger.”

“And?”

“Well, they invited me to their floor first and so I got off.”

“Off the elevator?”

“Well, I got off on my floor, went to my room, got myself off, freshened up, and then went to their floor.  All the doors were open on their floor and everyone was coming and going like in a dorm room.  I flitted here and there and some of them were changing or walking around with their shirts off and a few had just gotten out of the shower and had nothing on but a towel around the waist.  They were all gorgeous.”

“I bet.  I bet you didn’t even see their faces.”

“Oh, no.  I saw their faces and their arms, their chests, their lovely sculpted legs.  I saw just about everything.”

“But you wanted more.”

“More is my favorite amount.  So I invited five of them down to my room.”

“You did what?”

“You heard me.  A select five.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear that.  How did you select them?”

“I had the whole team stand at attention in a row naked and I selected the five longest cocks.”

“You did not!”

“No, but a lady can dream, can’t she?”

“Anyhow, I selected the five nicest guys and we went down to my room and I told them a bit more about me before slipping off my panties.  I had my little black cocktail dress on and I bent over the side of the bed and let them take a look under it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  And I encouraged them to pull out their cocks and jack off behind me, which they did willingly.”

“I bet.”

“And then I said, ‘Go on, slap it.’  And one of them gave me a good, solid whack.”

“They were so kind and considerate.”

“I thought so too!  My fingers were down between my legs, caressing and pulling my long pussy lips.  They could see as they took turns slapping my ass.  First they were timid, but then they grew more confidant as I moaned and said ‘Yes.’  Then I asked who wanted to be first in.  One of the guys immediately got behind me and began thrusting as hard and fast as he could.  It was rough and manic like a jackhammer horizontally placed in my cunt.”

“And you loved it, I bet.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong.  But he came so quickly, deep inside me.  I crawled up on the bed and let the next guy in.  He was slower, more loving.”

“Loving?”

“Well, more gentle.  I turned over my shoulder and said, ‘You can do better than that,’ and his friends encouraged him.  They each had their puds in their hands, except for the guy who had just cum in me.  But guy number two couldn’t finish.  I guess it was a lot of pressure.  He pulled out and a lot of cum from the first guy dripped out of me.  One of them snapped a photo of me from behind just before the third guy went in me.  After that, I sort of lost track of who was where because then one of them got under me and entered me so that they were double penetrating my pussy just like I always wanted.  And later one was fingering my ass and then he let himself in there, cumming deep inside while a different guy was under me in my puss.  I have no idea who came where or how many times I came.  One of them even got in front of me and came in my mouth and on my face.  In the end, let’s just say that everyone had scored at least once.”

“Who says that hockey is a zero-sum game?”

“Right?  Win-win!”

“Any chance I can get a shot on goal?”

“It’s wide open,” she says as she gets on top of me and slides her puss down my pole.

“How’s it feel,” she asks.

“Smoother than ice, and a whole hell of a lot warmer.”