Tag Archives: Beach
Summertime: Dogs, Wieners, and Buns
5
Woof!
“Hello?” Lo said, answering her phone after looking at it with a quizzical look. She didn’t recognize the number.
“Oh, Hi Scarlett!” said Lo into her phone, smiling and twirling her hair.
The rest is the one sided phone call I eavesdropped.
“No, that’s fine.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes. Completely.”
“Got it. Yes. I will.”
“Thank you. See you then!”
Lo hung up the phone and I could see that she was twitterpated.
“What was that all about?” I asked, a tad disturbed to see her so visibly affected by someone else’s voice.
“That was my editor.”
“Editor?”
“You know, for Collin’s project.”
“Which project is that? He has so many, I get confused.”
“Oh right. The Wank-a-Way.”
She laughed. “It’s not a Wank-a-Way. It’s going to be a respectable museum.”
“Where men can go to wank off or be wanked off by a certified technician.”
“Well, yeah. Like that, but. . .”
“But Collin has a way of making it sound more sophisticated.”
“Yes.”
“You best not be caught in there – I have a feeling he’ll get busted for prostitution within days!”
“It’s not prostitution.”
“I know, I know,” I said, repeating her oft invoked claim that “It’s a sperm donation site with fine art and technical assistants on hand for, well, to lend a hand.”
“That’s better.”
“Anyhow, what did your editor want?”
“I gave her a few binders full of women last week. . .”
“There’s got to be a better way of saying that,” I interrupted.
“And she said she wants to do a room that is just about summertime.”
“OK,” I said.
“So, she wants me to come over today and show her what I have in order to examine the possibilities.”
“Is that how she phrased it?”
“Yeah, almost word-for-word. You know I have a quasi-photographic memory.”
“For certain things,” I said. She knew what I meant because I knew that she meant she can remember just about every image of porn she’s ever cum to and every word her lovers have spoken in the heat of passion. It’s really an uncanny skill.
“Why?”
“It sounds like she has ulterior motives.”
“I sure hope so. She is hot!”
“I’m so glad for you,” I said and I couldn’t help sounding bitter.
“Oh,” she immediately chimed in, “are you jealous? Jealous of my editor?” She was rubbing the back of my head and looking concerned, but her tone was one of teasing.
“No, I’m not jealous.”
“Good,” she said, just as quickly stopping her caresses and ending her concerned tone, “because I have to get ready.”
“Get ready? Ready for what?”
“To meet her, silly. What should I wear?”
“Today? Sunday? She ‘s working? You’re going to meet her?”
I followed her from the living room to the bedroom. She was already going through her panty drawer. It is extensive.
“Which ones should I wear? Or maybe none at all? No. That would look too desperate. Or slutty? It might look slutty. And she might like that. But what if it just looks like I want to fuck her? But I do want to fuck her.”
“Lola,” I interrupted her dialogue with herself, “are you telling me you’re going over there today?”
“Yes, of course today,” she said as she slipped into her pink lace thong.
“But weren’t we going to. . .”
“I’m sorry, I have to cancel.”
“Because your pussy is aching to kiss her pussy?”
“That’s a crude way of saying it,” she said. “But I like it and it is accurate.”
I sat down on the bed, dejected.
She noticed.
“Aw,” she said, “I’m sorry. I’d let you fuck me but I don’t want to be stretched out for her, nor do I want to be filled up with cum. I don’t know her that well yet. She might not like it.”
I wasn’t talking. I just watched her get dressed.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”
She was applying her makeup. She leaned over her bureau and looked carefully at her eyes as she penciled on the eyeliner. Her ass was protruding outward from under her short black skirt and her breasts were exposed on the bottom from under her pink cutoff top, no bra.
After she finished her mascara, she turned and asked me, “Do I look too slutty?”
“Too slutty for what?”
“You know, too slutty.”
“Darling,” I said to her, condescendingly, “can a person be too rich, too healthy, too good? No. Of course not. And similarly, Lola Down can never be too slutty.”
“Oh,” she said, “you’re no help. I should have known better than to ask a perv like you if I’m too slutty.” As she said this, she slipped out of the pink lace thong she had just put on and she held it to her nose and sniffed.
“What?” I inquired.
“Wet already. Ah well, I’ll just throw them in here in case.” And she stuffed the panties in her little bag.
She put on her strappy black leather heels and then gathered up some more binders. She piled them about five high in a stack.
“Summertime, eh?” I asked, fingering the binders.
“Yeah, you know: dogs, wieners, and buns.”
“Are you listing three foods or naming what you like to fuck you, what you like to put in your mouth, and what you like to see on the beach?”
“I don’t have to be subjected to such ridicule,” she said, haughtily as she picked up her binders.
“Well, tell Scarlett I say hello.”
“I most certainly will not!”
“Then be sure to. . .”
She didn’t let me finish. She was out the door and hopping in her car. She gave a “toot toot” from the street and waived with her fingers at me as she drove away.
She was driving to Scarlett’s house, not the office, since it was Sunday.
Lo arrived at Scarlett’s suburban house. It was quaint. Built in the fifties, it retained the façade of clean, wholesome, country living. As Lo pondered it, sitting in the driveway looking at the white house with red shutters, she thought that it was the sort of house you might see in Home & Garden. All the flowers were in bloom. Everything was perfectly placed to look just a little out of sorts, but by design rather than by chance.
Lo grabbed her binders and strutted to the front door. She rang the bell. Through an intercom, she heard Scarlett say, “Just come in. It’s open.”
Lo opened the front door that was, indeed, left ajar. She stepped into the entrance way and heard Scarlett’s voice ring out, “In here!”
Lo followed the sound of the sing-song voice to the kitchen where she found Scarlett sitting at a portable desk in her kitchen. Lo looked around and marveled at the incongruity between Scarlett’s sexy red lips, her disheveled hair that Lo just wanted to grab as she forced her to face fuck Lo’s clit, Scarlett’s seductive cleavage revealed by the strategically nonchalant blouse that was unbuttoned just enough, and the kitchen, which could have been right out of her grandparent’s house.
Scarlett was looking down at some notes she had scribbled next to the portfolio Lo had left with her last time. But what caught Lo’s eye was that Scarlett was drinking from one of the limited edition tea cups made with Lo’s naked hips in full color on it.
“Hi,” said Lo, bashfully.
“What did you bring for me today?” asked Scarlett, getting right down to business.
“Well, you asked for a spread of ‘Summertime,’ right?”
“Yes.”
“Here you go.”
Lo felt oddly like a religious supplicant bringing an offering to her goddess, placing it before her for the goddess to approve or disapprove.
Scarlett looked through the photos. As she turned the pages, she said, “You took my words literally.”
“What do you mean?”
“Dogs, wieners, and buns.”
Beach Babes
Wet and wild Bryana Sparks it up in the pool
Daizha Morgann
Daizha Morgann
Jennifer Battistoni Kincade
Jennifer Battistoni Kincade
Jennifer Battistoni Kincade
All Bodies are Beautiful
Beach Babes
Buns
“Well, I aim to please. Do you not like them?”
“Oh, I like them a lot. Especially this one,” she said, pointing to. . .
Just then, startling Lo, a large dog came bursting into the kitchen from the back door. He was wet and muddy, and he immediately stuck his cold, moist snout up and under Lo’s short skirt and began licking rapidly and with the enthusiasm that only a happy-go-lucky devil-may-care dog can have.
“Woe there!” exclaimed Lo in a high-pitched voice.
“Down Reilly! Down!”
The dog paid no heed to his mistress.
“Reilly!” commanded Scarlett once more. He just continued to lick and nudge at Lo’s bottom, pushing her forward into the kitchen island until she had to brace herself with her arms holding onto the granite countertop. He began to get up on his hind legs. Scarlett jumped to action and grabbed him by his collar, careful not to let his wet and muddy fur soil her cute dress. She pulled him down, off of Lo, who spied from the corner of her eye that the friendly furry fiend had a large, pink, wet erection.
“I’m so sorry,” said Scarlett in a rare display of contrition. “He goes wild for women.”
“Oh,” fluttered Lo, trying to be polite, but displaying her confused emotions in her voice, “it’s ok.”
“It’s just the two of us here. He’s the man of the house, if you will, and just loves to dominate any woman who walks in the door.”
“So, I’m nothing special.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Scarlett as she led Reilly out the back door and threw a tennis ball for him to fetch, before shutting the door and making sure it was securely shut. Lo could hear Reilly when he returned scratching at the door and whimpering pathetically to be let back in. “He shows unusual exuberance for you. He must detect something very special about you.”
“His name is Reilly?”
“Yeah,” laughed Scarlett. “He always reminded me of the actor, John C. Reilly, so I called him Reilly.”
“I can see the resemblance.”
“As a result, I have a mad crush on John C. Reilly,” added Scarlett enigmatically. Scarlett looked at Lo’s bare legs and her skirt. “Oh no! Look at you! You’re a mess!”
Lo’s legs were splattered in mud and she was dripping from her inner thighs. Dripping from the wet dog or from the wet pussy? Not clear. Probably both.
“It’s nothing,” said Lo politely and demurely. “I enjoy being a dirty girl.” Her turn to be enigmatic.
“No, no,” said Scarlett. “We must clean you up. Come.”
Scarlett led Lo to the large bathroom on the first floor. It too was white tile and looked very mid-century. It had a large, white porcelain, claw-foot tub in it.
“Here,” said Scarlett, “sit.” She patted the edge of the tub.
Lo removed her strappy heels and swung one leg then the other over the edge of the tub.
“Let me clean you up,” said Scarlett, running the water and testing to see if it was too hot or too cold. When it got to the temperature she approved of, she wet down a washcloth. “Here, give me that pretty foot of yours.”
Lo lifted her left leg and allowed Scarlett to hold it with one hand, cupping the ankle with her palm, and ever-so-gently wipe it down with the warm washcloth with the other hand.
Involuntarily, Lo let out a long moan.
She heard herself and caught herself and said, “Sorry. . . it feels so good.”
“No need to be sorry,” said Scarlett, staring deeply into Lo’s eyes a second too long.
She looked back down at Lo’s leg as if embarrassed, and then slowly wiped Lo’s shin, from the knee down. Then she rinsed out the washcloth and rung it out before daring to start again at the middle of Lo’s thigh. She ran the wet cloth all the way down, ever-so-slowly, down to Lo’s toes. Lo bit her lower lip and moaned again.
Rinse, repeat, but this time Scarlett dared to lift Lo’s dress up above her waist.
“No knickers,” observed Scarlett in a non-judgmental, flat tone.
Lo giggled. “That’s such a funny word – knickers,” said Lo.
“Panties,” corrected Scarlett.
“When I hear the word ‘knickers,’ I think of a sixty-year-old English woman who milks cows. I certainly don’t think about a pink lace thong.”
“So ‘panties’ is sexy and ‘knickers’ not?” asked Scarlett.
“For me, at least.”
“You know what is most sexy?”
Lo’s and Scarlett’s eyes locked as Scarlett asked this. Lo could only mouth the word “No.” The breath was not filling her vocal cords.
“No panties at all.” Scarlett then pushed Lo’s legs further apart and applied the warm washcloth to Lo’s aching pussy. “He loves to lick,” said Scarlett absentmindedly.
“Does he?” whispered Lo.
“Oh yes. Did I mention, it’s just the two of us here.”
“Yes.”
“He’s very good company.”
“I’m sure.”
“Fills up those otherwise empty, lonely nights with all sorts of silly games and furry fun.”
“I can just imagine,” said Lo.
Scarlett’s right hand held Lo’s thigh tightly as her left hand held the washcloth, but Lo now felt a finger graze her labia.
“So,” said Scarlett in a hushed tone, “when another woman comes. . .” she paused dramatically, “he thinks that she just wants to play too.”
Lo now distinctly felt Scarlett’s fingers slide over her pussy. The washcloth dropped into the tub.
“I love to play. . .” now Lola paused dramatically, “with dogs.”
“Animal lovers are so. . .”
Scarlett leaned over and her lovely, red, lush lips parted. Lo couldn’t resist. She leaned in and did what she wanted to do since the moment she laid eyes on Scarlett. She kissed her passionately.
Scarlett’s left hand no longer played coy. She slid two fingers up and into Lo’s slit and her right hand slid around Lo’s waist so that, with the pressure between her legs, Scarlett wouldn’t push Lo right off the side of the tub.
When their lips finally parted, Scarlett said, “Turn, so I can wash your right leg.”
Lola obediently followed Scarlett’s instruction and lifted her left leg out of the tub and, with a very unlady-like move, straddled the curved edge of the tub. The toe of her bare left foot just touching the white tile floor and her right leg steadying her in the tub as her crotch was fully exposed, resting on the white porcelain edge of the tub.
Scarlett didn’t look at Lo’s dark, hairy bush, but instead, rinsed out the washcloth with warm water again and rung it out before leaning over starting again down at Lo’s naked right foot and slowly moving her way up Lo’s calf to her knee to her inner thigh. Scarlett then said, “Maybe I could clean you better if I hopped in the tub.”
Lo didn’t object. Rather, her heart skipped a beat when she contemplated that Scarlett would have to get naked to do this task. But that’s not how it happened. Scarlett, to Lo’s surprise, climbed into the tub, fully clothed, but for her shoes, which she left on the bathmat. She then got down on her knees in the little puddle that was on the bottom of the tub. She ran the warm washcloth up and down Lo’s leg with the care and attention of an art connoisseur delicately dusting a priceless alabaster statue. Scarlett was staring intensely at Lo’s crotch as she slid the warm, wet washcloth from Lo’s knee to her inner thigh.
Lo’s head dropped back and she was just about to reach out in front of her, grab Scarlett’s head and pull her in for a good smooch of her lower lips when suddenly there was a CRASH! Both women froze and Scarlett looked up and said, “Reilly!”
Scarlett stood up from the tub and hopped out. Lo followed. They went into the living room and saw a lamp shattered on the floor.
“Bloody hell!” said Scarlett.
Poor Reilly was cowering in the corner.
“What happened?”
“Oh, he probably was humping a pillow on the couch – he does that when. . .” she didn’t complete her thought. “And then the movement caused the lamp to slide off the end table.”
“I thought you put him out?”
“When he’s determined, he finds a way. He must have used his snout to push the door open.”
Lo recalled how forceful his snout was up and under her skirt. He nearly pushed her over with it.
Scarlett disappeared for a moment and returned with a dustpan and a hand broom. She crouched down to clean up the shattered porcelain fragments. As she did this, Lo sat down on the couch and crossed her legs. She picked up a book from the coffee table. It was a large photo book. On the cover, the words “Irina and Eva: Lust for Innocence and Innocent Lust” were embossed in an Art Neuvo gold across the top and a black-and-white image of a little nude girl wearing a Jazz Era hat, furry white vest (covering her non-existent breasts), and a couple of bracelets stood below. The lighting of the image of the girl was such that a shadow from the brim of the hat concealed her eyes. From under the hat, beautiful flowing golden curls unraveled down the girl’s shoulders. Her face was that of a young girl, but she wore luscious red lipstick on her beautiful full mouth. But for the items already mentioned, she stood naked with her arms at her side. The light illuminated her torso, drawing the observer’s eye to the chest and down to her navel. Below the navel was a pale stripe that indicated the small bathing suit or panties that barely protected her swimsuit zone from tanning. And within that white stripe was the outline of a smooth, hairless triangle that tapered in darkness between her small legs that were pressed together. Her body leaned at an angle resembling the Leaning Tower of Pisa, but her head was cocked in the opposite direction. Her nails were manicured and painted and she gave off the aura of a mature courtesan waiting to be chosen by the young patron of the brothel.
Eva Ionesco
After disposing the remains of the lamp that had broken, Scarlett returned to the living room and sat on the couch, to Lola’s left.
“What’s this?” asked Lo as she leafed through the pages, each of which had a glossy photo of the same young girl who was on the cover.
“Oh, that’s a prized possession of mine.”
Lo had turned to a page that featured the young nude blonde girl in a black-and-white spread that covered both the left and right pages. She was lying on her tum, her head propped up by her hands, her blonde ringlets crowned by a garland of flowers, and her little legs in black, knee-high stockings and wearing black shoes. From her knees to her garland, she was naked and the center of the photo was her cute, curved, bare bottom.
Irina Ionesco’s photo of her daughter, Eva Ionesco
Lola’s version
As Scarlett told Lo about the book, her right hand slowly caressed the glossy page.
“It is a book of Irina Ionesco’s photos of her daughter Eva.”
“I’m sorry,” said Lo, “but I don’t know them.”
“It’s a story of love – dark love. You see, Irina, so the story goes, was conceived by the unholy union of her father and his daughter. But that’s just the mysterious and unconfirmed backdrop to this story. Irina became a circus performer and gave birth to her one and only child – Eva in 1965. She began photographing her when she was four years old, which would be fine, but she treated her just like any of her older nude models. These were the so-called “Lolita Photos.” In the seventies – the zeitgeist being what it was – she exhibited her photographs and instantly gained notoriety in the artsy professional photography world. She continued to photograph her daughter – and even lend her out to be the muse of other photographers as well! – until social services intervened and removed Eva from the artistic exploitation of her obsessed mother.”
Eva Ionesco
Lola’s mouth was gaping as she flipped the glossy pages, gawking at the scandalous photos.
“This,” added Scarlett proudly as she again rubbed the smooth pages with her open palm, “was a limited, private print.”
“Where did you find it?”
“Oh,” said Scarlett as if it was no big deal, “it was a gift of Collin’s.”
“Of course,” said Lola looking at Scarlett knowingly.
“You like what you see?” asked Scarlett.
“It’s terrible,” said Lo enigmatically, as her fingers turned the page to look at another photo.
Eva as a cover girl
“She reminds me of you,” whispered Scarlett as her eyes locked on Lo’s and together they put the book back on the coffee table. Lola’s and Scarlett’s lips locked again as Scarlett fell back towards the pillow on the couch. She was now horizontal with Lo on top of her.
Eva, on loan by her mother to the photographer Jacques Bourboulon
Eva in Playboy 1976
They were passionately making out and Lo was running her hand through Scarlett’s hair when suddenly Lo said, “Oh no!”
“What?” asked a concerned Scarlett.
Lo sat up and showed Scarlett her hand. It was wet.
Scarlett sniffed it and turned around. Looking at the pillow that was under her, she said, “Reilly!”
“He, he, he came on the pillow!” said a horrified Lo. “And now it’s all in your hair.”
Scarlett sat up too and the sticky liquid stretched from the pillow in gossamer threads to her hair.
“How did we not see that?” asked Lo.
“I guess we were just focused on other things,” replied Scarlett, trying to prevent the mood from souring and attempting to pull Lo back down onto the couch with her. Scarlett’s head fell back onto the K9-cum-covered pillow. She reached to pull Lo down with her. Lo hesitantly fell back into her arms.
Lo was lost in Scarlett’s wet, warm, red, lush lips as they kissed passionately. Lo’s legs were squeezed together between Scarlett’s which were spread wide to welcome her. Just as Lo was loosing herself in the lust she felt for this older woman, she suddenly felt that same cool, wet, insistent nudging pressing on her mons pubis from behind.
Lo immediately lifted her head and looked behind her. There was Reilly all riled up again, nudging his nose up and under Lo’s short skirt.
“He’s relentless,” said Lo.
“He’s horny,” replied Scarlett.
“He just came!” protested Lo.
“Oh, he usually is good for like three or four rounds.”
Indeed, it looked like Reilly was eagerly getting ready to mount Lo as he had mounted the pillow earlier.
“Let’s switch places,” said Scarlett as she nearly wrestled Lo on the couch and forced her into a submissive role under her on the couch. Scarlett through the soiled pillow on the floor so as not to get Lo’s thick, dark hair all sticky as hers was now.
Lo was flat on her back on the couch and Scarlett was lying on top of her, making out with her as she squirmed out of her pants and “knickers.”
Then Lo could feel the rhythmic thumping happening as well as some painful scratches from sharp nails on her ankles and feet. Scarlett was moaning.
Lo looked up and over Scarlett’s shoulder. There was Reilly, mounted on Scarlett’s ass, going to town on her as he had on the pillow only a few minutes earlier.
“Is he in you?” Lo asked.
“Knotted in place, yes.”
Lo squirmed out from under Scarlett. Scarlett desperately tried to hold her there.
“What?” asked Scarlett. “Don’t go! Kiss me. Fondle me. Please.”
Lo had already gotten up and was looking down at Scarlett and her pooch. The latter was rhythmically and forcefully filling and thrusting the former’s wet hole, his front paws on the back of her blouse. She was rendered immobile by the activity.
“Wait! Please!” begged Scarlett.
“I think I should go,” said Lo.
“No. Please. You can be next. Promise.”
Lo slipped into her heels and said, “Call me when you have an opening free for me. . . in your schedule,” said Lo.
There was nothing Scarlett could do or say. She was knotted firmly and was at Reilly’s mercy, if he had any, until he came and his knot became detumescent.
We Interrupt This Story To Bring You These Reviews
Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume 6: SlutLife Cover
Hello Friends, Fiends, and Casual Internet Kinksters Looking For Fun,
We interrupt our usual kinky stories to bring you these reviews of Match, Cinder and Spark, Volume VI: SlutLife, out now by Erosetti Press.
Library By from Goodreads gives it 5 Stars and writes:
From the moment we opened “Slut Life” by Lola and HH on our vacation, we knew we were in for an adventure. This book isn’t just a story; it’s an experience that transports you into a world filled with thrilling action, complex characters, and compelling narratives that captivate from the first page to the last.
Reading this book together became the highlight of our days, lounging by the beach or curled up in our hotel room after a day of exploring. The vivid descriptions and the dynamic between the characters not only entertained us but also brought us closer together. It’s a rare find that a book can offer such excitement and also serve as a catalyst for deeper connection and conversation between us. Naturally, pleasant evenings (and days) ensued!
The action-packed scenes were beautifully written, keeping us on the edge of our seats, and the characters’ journeys were both inspiring and thought-provoking. The authors have a unique way of weaving tension and release throughout the narrative, making it impossible to put the book down.
And Dante on Twitter (I mean “X”) says:
The essence of “Slut Life” lies in its ability to raise critical questions about the nature of love and relationships in today’s society. One such question is: What does it mean to love freely? Through the chapter “Prospero & Miranda,” we are presented with a vision of love that transcends traditional boundaries. “Jeff, you’re never going to be happy with Sally or any woman until you learn that love is not limited or limiting. Love is license. Love is liberating. Love is the levity of life.” This quote invites readers to reflect on the limitations often placed on love by societal norms and to consider the liberating potential of embracing a more expansive view of love.
You don’t have to search the shelves to find it. Get your copy today right here and send us a sexy photo of you reading it!
Protected: Gateway to Bliss
Sunstroke
[Continued from Young Lust, Dirty Woman]
Lola at the nude beach
The dad was lying back, sleeping or simply suntanning. I was sweltering in the sun and so I got up and asked Lo, “How’s the water?”
“So refreshing!”
“Looks a little chilly,” I said as I looked down at her pointy nipples.
“It’s delightful.”
“Seems like you’re delighting in more than the water and weather.”
“Go on, Daddio, try it for yourself.”
Was she trying to get rid of me?
I walked to the water. It was like bath water. I didn’t hesitate to get in and cool down as much as I could. I felt myself burning in the sun, but didn’t want to curtail Lo’s little jaunt. I thought that maybe, if I stayed in the water, I would avoid a burn. I knew from experience that was not true, but it felt better to be in the water than shriveling up dry in the sun. I sat in the shallow water looking out at the Mediterranean. To my surprise, not much later, the mom walked into the water beside me. She passed me. I saw from the back that she was much more heavyset than I had thought when I saw her sitting on the blanket. She was rather round on the bottom.
Model, Jennifer Battistoni Kincade
She stopped about five feet in front of me and bent over to splash water on her face and shoulders. As she did so, I could see her FUPA (fat upper pubic area) fall forward like a curtain in front of her. Her ass was large and round. There was so much flesh that I couldn’t even see her pussy. I wondered to myself how her husband fucked her, but then I remembered his enormous member and realized he probably could fuck her from a foot away when fully hard.
The thought crossed my mind that she might be putting on a show for me. She was very attractive and this view was. . .
Uh oh! Now I was getting hard. The tip of my cock was pointing upward like a mushroom growing out of the water. I dared not stand up because then I’d be even more conspicuous, but what will happen when she turns around?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out because no sooner had the panicked thought presented itself, than she did turn around and look right at me. I saw her eyes glance down at my attention-grabbing appendage and she smiled!
Thankfully she didn’t say anything. She just splashed water on her heaving breasts and lifted them up, probably to cool down the underside where they pressed up against her belly. I found it all captivating (and arousing).
While I was contemplating the plump Aphrodite before me, I noticed she was pointing behind me. I couldn’t see by simply turning my neck and so I had to stand up. I figured she had seen an erect penis before and that perhaps she’d take it as a compliment, so I got up to look behind me since she seemed insistent that I see. She was smiling, as if delighted by the vision.
When I turned around, I saw Lo and the boy wrestling or wriggling on the sand. Then I realized they were having a tickle fight. The mom said, “Bella, bella!” That I understood. She thought it was beautiful how they were getting along. She was indicating to me her approval. She doesn’t know Lo.
I walked back up to the blanket and saw that the two of them had separated. Lo was sitting in the sand, her legs spread, heaving heavily. I saw that between her legs, the sand was darker – wet. Oh boy. Did she?
“Squirt or pee?” I asked her, judgmentally.
“Both?” she said, guiltily.
“Lo.”
The father said something to me and I turned my head and saw the mom still cooling down in the water. The baby was in a small carrying seat with a makeshift tent over it.
The father repeated his question to me. I turned to him. He was holding his massive cock and pointing at Lo. “Scoparla?” he said, or something like that.
I was ignorant.
“Fuck,” he finally said in English. “Fuck her.” This he knew. But I was still uncomprehending of whether he wanted me to fuck her or if he wanted to fuck her himself. So I did the only polite thing and said, “Si, si.”
I soon had my answer, for he got down in the sand on his knees and stroked his cock as he looked at Lo’s shimmering body and glistening pussy lips. Soon he was inside her. He fucked her violently.
Lo, for her part, wrapped her legs around his wide torso and began to moan and groan and say, “Yes, fuck me.” I think it then dawned on her that he couldn’t understand anything she said other than fuck, so she repeated the term many times.
I looked at the boy who stood to the side of the four armed, four legged beast and watched with wide eyes and an erect penis. He held his diminutive dick in his hand just as his father had done.
Lo then started saying, “Fuck me you ugly, fat, disgusting old perv! Fuck me with that massive cock of yours! You are so abhorrently hideous! A sea monster, really!”
Occasionally, other beach goers would walk by without stopping. The mother was in the water, no doubt aware of what was happening, but unconcerned.
“Yes, you gross fucking single tentacled kraken! That’s my spot. Fuck!” Lo is quite poetic when her pussy is activated.
Then she was unable to speak as her body began convulsing. She looked up, directly into the eyes of the boy by her side, and her eyes communicated everything: delight, ecstasy, pleasure, pain, longing, satisfaction, disgust at herself and the man on top of her, triumph.
The dad kept on plunging into Lo’s gushing cunt, oblivious of her climax and desirous of his. He pulled his torso up off of Lo’s and held her by her ankles, her legs up in the air, as he fucked her like a piece of meat hanging in the outdoor market. He then let go of her ankles and greedily grabbed and squeezed her breasts. He began to slap them and she responded with more sounds of pleasure. He slapped her tits silly. She began to cum again, but before she could, he spurted his spunk deep inside her. She could feel it and that was all she needed to push her over the edge. Her legs began to tremble and her tits rose and descended with her fast, deep breaths.
All this time her eyes remained fixed on the boy and it was as if the two of them were telepathically communicating mysterious words of love and compassion in a common, yet private language.
The father pulled his incredibly long lance out of Lo’s clam and soon after liquid pearl began to drizzle from her widely dilated lips onto the sand.
The dad and the son stood side-by-side looking down at the kill. There was a touching moment when the son’s little hand reached to his father’s large one and held it as they gawked at Lo lying on the ground, immobile.
Then, from between Lo’s legs a sudden dribble of pee percolated and puddled by her ass. The father and son duo smiled at the sight and, as if it gave them both the idea and permission, they too released their bladders and showered Lo with their golden streams. More than once the father’s and son’s lines crossed and crisscrossed again over Lo’s body as they drenched her in a double dosage of warm urine.
When they were done, Lo was recovered and she got up and walked right past me into the sea. I saw her exchange smiles and some words with the mother who was still bathing there. I glanced at the father-son team and smiled a ridiculously twisted grin, feeling awkward and stupid. They both laughed and went back to sitting on the towel together. I noticed that the father’s meat hung down now, nearly to his knees. It no longer had the arch to it that it did when we first arrived. It was completely flaccid. The son’s was still rigid though.
When Lo returned from her purifying bath, she said, “OK, Daddy, I think it’s time to go. I’m beginning to burn.”
“No doubt from the jealousy of Aphrodite Ourania and Aphrodite Pandemos.”
“What?” she asked.
“You make the goddesses of desire hot with jealousy.”
“You flatter,” she said, smiling.
I put my clothes back on. Lola put on her bikini top and bottom, but carried her shorts and t-shirt. Lo waved and smiled at the family and patted the little boy on the head before giving him a matronly kiss on the cheek.
Protected: Young Lust, Dirty Woman
Protected: Clench & Drench
Finding Lola – Three Covid Stories
Covid Quarantine had a way of messing with our mental life. It has been well documented that people reported having more intense dreams during the first lonely months of quarantine. Since then, many people have experienced a strange time distortion when attempting to recall any sort of chronology. Things basically fall into B.C. (“Before Covid”) and whatever it is that we’re living through now. But placing events exactly on a timeline post-Covid is a bit wonky.
For us, Covid was a time when we made a lot of new friends virtually. In order to help people through the forced “celibacy” of the quarantine (both single people and the people like us who are non-monogamous and so had to curtail their outside playtime) we started up our free books program where we sent a complimentary copy of Match, Cinder & Spark to friends, fans, and avid readers in exchange for their sending back to us a sexy photo of them with the book. That was so much fun that we’ve continued it on a limited basis. (Please request one via email if you’re interested.)
We heard from a lot of you out there in Lolaland and we continue to receive sexy missives from our beloved kinkster community.
This week we are going to feature three short stories sent to us by new and old friends. Diving into Lola’s Letter Box, we are pleased to bring you a story about a single college student, a married couple, and sisters who learned a lot about each other in lockdown.
The first comes from Melissa, a college student who, like Grace, was stuck at home with her parents in the spring of 2020. “At the time, it was the middle of my freshman year. I’m a shy introvert, an voracious reader, a bookish nerd,” she says.
I also am a closeted nymphomaniac. With limited tolerance for social interactions, I found that it was just easier to get off on my own. In fact, that’s how I found your blog. I was concerned about my internet porn binging and, by doing a search to find some way out of it, I came across Erica Garza’s book, Getting Off. And not only did I come across it, I came to it and got off even more! I couldn’t get off enough and so I did a deep dive (into my pussy and on the internet) until I found your post about ‘Her Porn Addiction’ and everything I read, except for Lo’s confidence and extroverted personality, sounded very familiar to me.
After that, she was hooked. She became a regular reader of the blog for a while, but she was hungry for more. Similar to Grace, she was afraid of ordering one of the books and having it arrive at her house, only for someone in her family to discover it and expose her. So, she too found a way to get off during those isolating times though other means. “I purchased all five volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark on audiobook and masturbated every night to the voice of Jupiter Grant reading the sexy stories while simultaneously scrolling through the photos of Lola on the blog.”
As we all remember so well, getting out during Covid Quarantine, even just to do shopping or go for a drive, was a big deal. Melissa relayed that her favorite sexy thing to do was to up the stakes and take risks by getting in the car and playing the audiobook on the speakers while wearing a skirt with no panties and finger-fuck herself or dildo while driving.
Lying down in bed, masturbating naked was fine, but it didn’t have the interaction I craved. I wanted to be around people. Also, there’s a difference between hearing Jupiter Grant’s voice through the earbuds and hearing her through the car’s speakers. Every chance I got, I borrowed my mom’s car and went for a drive. Listening to the stories was like an education – I learned about some great books I should read and I learned about sex. Win-win! But as the months got warmer, I would drive around with the windows down. One day I pulled up to a stoplight just as Lola was describing being mounted and pounded, used and abused, in the story ‘Pound.’ I was on the verge of cumming when I noticed the guy in the car next to me had his windows down as well and he heard everything that was making me so wet. He gave me an intense, sidelong glance. I just looked at him, blushed, and tried to shut off the radio, but I suddenly felt an orgasm violently taking over my body as I reached for the button. No use. The light turned green. Neither of us moved. I came. He watched. It was hot!
From Melissa’s miles and miles of masturbation, we now turn to our good friends Jane and Andrew. You will recall these newlyweds discovered their kinks on their honeymoon when it was revealed that Jane gets off to erotic stories (like Match, Cinder & Spark) and Andrew likes to wear women’s panties and takes delight in his wife locking his chastity cage while she mercilessly masturbates in front of him as a form of titillating torture.
This week they sent us a photo tryptic of sorts showing how they have fun. She hops in the tub, takes a long, relaxing bath, shaves her twat clean and smooth, and then cuddles up with a good book. In this case it happens to be Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts. When she is good and gushing, she invites in Andrew. He knows by now that during her sexy-time he is to be locked and loaded. She then reads aloud the passages that have her groin grinding. If he is lucky, she might fondle and cup his genitalia, but he is not allowed any greater gratification than that. Yet she is free to dive into her toy drawer and pull out all the necessary accessories for her maximal self-care. She indulges freely in the pleasures of the flesh while denying him the release he desires.
Jane and Andrew reading Match, Cinder & Spark
As she was reading the stories, she asked Andrew, “What would you think if I took many male lovers and had them fuck me in front of you?”
“Like Lola does?”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t know if I’d be able to prevent ejaculating, even in my cage.”
“How would you like it if our entire marriage you were never allowed to fuck me – only watch – as I was banged by so many men on a regular basis?”
“You would make me the happiest husband on the planet!”
“Then learned Leo was wrong – not all happy marriages are alike. Perhaps each happy marriage is happy in its own way.”
“I know ours is.”
For Your Entertainment
Our third story is from Nicci and her sister Malory.
[Abridged. The unabridged version you can find here.]
Just before the lockdown went into effect, Nicci had traveled from her hometown of Charlotte to visit her sister Malory in Tampa. Everything was going fine until the day the CDC announced that no one should be flying anywhere. That nixed Nicci’s return flight. As with everyone else, her job shut down and then went remote, as did Malory’s. The two of them were cooped up in Malory’s small, one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with only Malory’s black lab, Lucky, for company. This made for rather cramped living space. As Nicci tells it, the couch was too small for either of them to sleep on, so they bunked up in the bed. When either of them needed “self-care” time, one sister had to ask the other sister for some “personal space” to “take care of business.” On more than one occasion, stuck in bed together at night, one or the other would begin fapping. Two twenty-something women isolated from the rest of the world needed an escape from the ever more grim news inundating them each day.
But they weren’t the only ones in need of relief. Lucky was a rescue dog and by the time Malory had adopted him, he was too old to be neutered. He was “intact,” as they say. And, as such, he too needed to get off – on the couch, on the floor, on Nicci’s or Malory’s leg.
According to Nicci, one evening the two of them joined in a Zoom happy-hour with some mutual friends. Both of them had a couple of strong margaritas and after the happy-hour was over, they continued to drink and reminisce about high school days. Malory brought up one of their girlfriends about whom it was rumored that she had regular sex with her dog. Nicci denied the rumor as urban legend and they both shared a laugh about it. That led to Nicci asking Malory if she had ever seen the movie Sleeping Dogs Lie. “It’s a terrible romcom about a woman who. . .”
“No, don’t even!”
“I kid you not!”
“What kind of romcom is that?”
The two of them ended up watching it, or at least trying to. Nicci was right, it was terrible.
Sleeping Dogs Lie
“If I hear another accordion, it will be too soon!” said Malory.
“I know! That soundtrack was the worst. Like they were some French film or something. And it manages to be cringeworthy in every way and insult just about everyone.”
“Not to mention, the moral of the story – if you can call it that. It’s best to lie – to your spouse, family, coworkers, and friends.”
They loved hatewatching it. Nicci added, “And the entire premise of the film – that a lonely, single college woman would give a blowjob to her dog.”
“I know, right? I mean, it’s so unbelievable. If I was that lonely, I wouldn’t blow him, I’d have him fuck me.”
Suddenly Nicci stopped laughing and looked very seriously at her sister. “What? You wouldn’t, would you?”
Malory mysteriously said, “Who says I haven’t?”
“Come on! Stop joking. Really?”
“Ew!” screeched Malory, dramatically, “I take him out twice a day and clean up his shit after him. Are you kidding me? No.”
Sure enough, just as they were having this conversation, Lucky went at it again on the rug.
“Whew,” said Nikki, laughing nervously. “You had me worried for a minute.”
Malory laughed and, looking at Lucky, said, “If I had been fucking him, I don’t think he’d be doing that like three times a day.”
“You should have named him Horny, not Lucky,” said Nicci.
“Who are we kidding? We’re all fucking horny and none of us are going to get lucky anytime soon,” replied Malory.
That conversation and movie was enough to set the wheels in motion for both of them. Who knows, maybe Lucky had this arrangement in mind all the while and that’s why he was constantly causing friction on the carpet.
Before long. . . .
When Nicci would go out to do the grocery shopping or Malory would go for a run in the afternoon or morning, whomever was at home was busy with. . . .
But when Malory went out for a jog one afternoon only to have the sky open up and drench her in a downpour so that she returned to the apartment early, she found her sister dripping wet as well, but not from the weather. . . . Nicci looked up at Malory with a swirling combination of satisfaction, shame, and helplessness.
. . .
This cozy arrangement continued for about two or three months, until Nicci felt safe enough to return home. When that fateful day came, she and her sister made an unspoken pact never to so much as mention this intense ménage à trois again.
Nicci wrote to us to say, “Though we never, ever talk about what happened between the three of us in those early months of the pandemic, since then I have found (and shared with Mal) your blog. (You can guess what I was searching for.) I didn’t tell her why I was sharing it with her, but I’m sure she figured it out. Thank you for your honesty, candor, and sexiness!”
Sisters at the beach with Lucky
Protected: Sister Sadist
Victory Lap
As she made the ‘OK’ sign with her index finger and thumb, my hard cock filled the hole of that universal hand-gesture that indicates everything is alright. And everything was better than alright. She was lying under my arched, naked body, her left hand doing the bare minimum necessary to still qualify as a hand-job. I was doing most of the work, thrusting in and out of her digital aperture. She was lying naked on her back, her right hand doing more work on her clit than her left on my dick. But, hey, it’s not a competition. I was pleased. She was pleasing – herself and me.
“That’s it, you big, bad dog,” she said in a sultry tone, referencing the taboo topic of her acquired technique.
She knew exactly what that would do to me. She plays me like a fiddle with her nimble fingers, though I’m sure she’d rather play a long, black clarinet that requires both hands to get the proper fingering and also the use of a wet mouth and tongue to blow all those Ds loud and with proper dynamics.
Within seconds my baton was conducting the final climactic notes of this symphony.
As I write these tortured metaphors, I can hear Lo laughing and saying, “Symphony! P’shaw, more like a minuet.”
Be that as it may, she was covered in pearlesque droplets from chin to chest.
Holiday Glaze
I fell back onto the bed, relishing the sweet release she uncorked for me.
But she, rather than lounge in the lethargic bliss I was enjoying, hopped out of bed, put on her jeans and a tank-top, and said, “Do you want to come walk with me?”
Or, at least that’s what I understood her to say. What she actually said was, “Do you want to cum-walk with me?”
“What?” I asked groggily.
“Cum-walk.”
“I don’t want to walk.”
“No, Daddio, a cum-walk.”
“What’s a cum-walk?” I asked, finally understanding what she was articulating.
“It’s like a walk of shame. A stride of pride, a victory lap, the trek of triumph, the Something About Mary hommage,” she said with a French accent.
“Since when is that a thing?”
“Oh, old man, hurry up, get dressed, and I’ll tell you as you accompany my for a strumpet stride through the neighborhood.”
“Ok, ok,” I said, laughing, “You’re killing me with these colorful combinations of colloquialisms for cum.”
“Say that four times fast!”
“Where’d you learn all those?
“Eskimos have forty different words for snow and I. . .”
“Forget it. I don’t want to hear what precipitated your poetic euphemisms.”
When I was dressed, we walked outside, arm-in-arm. She was proud to have the origin of her adornments accompany her as she displayed her latest accomplishment.
She said hello in a flirtatious voice to the others who passed us by on the delightful spring morning. Out of the corner of her eye, she tried to spy if they looked carefully enough to discern what was glinting in the sunlight on her cheek, chin, neck, and shoulder.
“So, when did this become a thing?” I asked again.
“It’s always been a thing. I mean, remember the time at the nude beach when you came all over my face and tits?”
“Which time?”
“Oh, Daddio. The beach with the geriatric gentlemen who genuflected at my altar.”
“Right. Yeah, so?”
“Remember, after you rained your love down on me, we walked together, saying hi to the beachcombers.”
“Yeah, I remember, fondly.”
“And the time I met that very nice athlete in the park.”
“You mean the big black guy who came on you?”
“You have a good memory for an old man.”
“That’s why I write these things down – to keep your paramours straight.”
“Oh, straight is ok, but I prefer kinky paramours.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Anyhow, after he came on me and I walked up to you dripping with his jizz. That also was a cum-walk.”
“I see.”
“Are you going to write about this one?”
“Of course I am, even if no one believes me.”
“They don’t believe you, Daddy?”
“Lo, you can understand that a lot of people find you unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“Morning,” said a passerby.
“Hi,” Lo chirped back in a perky voice. Her tits were perky too in her see-through white tank-top.
Lo’s braless top
“Getting a lot of looks,” I remarked to her.
“Yeah, but I made the wrong choice.”
“How’s that?”
“They’re all looking at my chest, not my face.”
“Ah yes, the age-old dilemma. What’s the reaction you’re looking for?”
“I’d just like a tall, dark, and handsome man to give me a long stare that says, ‘I know what you just did, you slut.”
“I think you take too much pleasure in this.”
“Oh, Daddio! The only thing more pleasurable is when it’s leaking out of my puss through my panties and shorts at the same time as it’s on my face.”
“Do you have a special name for that walk?”
“The Double-Stuff Strut, The Cream-Pie Promenade, The Spit-Roast Saunter.”
“I should have known.”
admiration