Molly Weatherfield, author of Carrie’s Story and Safe Word, a.k.a. Pam Rosenthal Interview

Dear fans of erotica and romance, today we have a very special interview for you:

Pam Rosenthal, a.k.a. Molly Weatherfield – PART ONE – Carrie’s Story

 Pam/Molly is an award winning author in both the genres of romance and erotica! That  doesn’t happen to just anybody! I had just finished reading her first published erotica novel, Carrie’s Story, and I felt such a kinship with both the titular character and the author. I looked her up, reached out, and – to my great luck – she was willing to chat! Then she was willing to do an interview. Now, if you haven’t heard of her (and, I admit, I had only heard of her in passing about a year ago), you totally should have! Why? Because her writing – style, plot, characters, and basic command of the English language – put that other ho-hum popularizer of erotica/BDSM fiction to shame! That’s right, 50 Shades should have been called “50 Degrees Not-As-Good-As Molly Weatherfield!” Or maybe, “16 Years Late!” No, really! Anything that pale best seller had to offer was there in Carrie’s Story, and more – whoa so much more! Don’t take my word for it. Read both for yourselves and get back to me.

Luckily, some have seen the quality in Molly/Pam. In October of 2006, Playboy called Carrie’s Story one of the top 25 sexiest novels ever written! Number 12, in fact – just after Lolita (which, in HH’s humble opinion is the best erotica ever written) and just before Erica Jong’s Fear of Flying. Not too shabby!

Playboy’s 25 Sexiest Novels Ever Written

Number 12 – Top 50 Percentile

That’s not the only list she’s made. There’s also “33 of the Best Erotic Novels of All Time.” Now, if you read that list, you’ll see that it is hardly “of all time.” I mean, there’s nothing prior to Lady Chatterley’s Lover from 1929 on the list. But hey, “33 of the Best Relatively Recent Erotic Novels” just doesn’t have the same pizazz.

Speaking of lists, one particular author I know (in a Biblical way) made the list of ranker.com‘s “Best Sensual Fiction Writers” (even though HH isn’t writing “fiction”). We’d both appreciate it if you’d take a moment to vote us up on the list. Thanks!

Classic and Updated

Now, let’s get to the interview!

Carrie’s Story (updated cover)

Lola – OMG! It is such an honor to interview you! However, I have to be honest, so far I have only read your BDSM erotic novel, Carrie’s Story.  That’s why this interview is PART ONE.  I look forward to reading Safe Word and then having a second interview. And, maybe, when I can, reading some of your Romance work, like A House East of Regent Street, which you published under your own name, Pam Rosenthal. But tell me, what’s your background?  How did you get into writing?

Molly – I’ve always thought of myself as a lifelong English major, in love with reading and writing, and a little shaky in terms of earnings potential. For most of my life I managed to pay the bills as a computer programmer, which was hard, though also stimulating, pretending to have technical chops. Before Carrie, I never considered writing fiction; what writing I did was lit-crit or wonky nonfiction stuff, often about computers and science fiction, published in obscure leftwing venues, but pretty exciting to me intellectually and even artistically (I got the name Molly, for example, from the mirror-shades girl in the classic cyberpunk novel Neuromancer).

I’ve also been a feminist since I came to adulthood in the late 60s (I’m pretty old, as anybody who did the math can figure out). And I also had a secret passion for SM erotica, at least since high school when I somehow glommed onto the Marquis de Sade. Which two parts of my belief system weren’t easy to reconcile, especially since 60s-70s second-wave feminism was particularly disapproving of anything smacking of sexual “objectification.” 

But it was my great good fortune to be in the right place at the right time to begin to resolve my dilemmas. I don’t know if your readers will know this history, but in the early 1980s there was a big split among feminists called “the sex wars,” where some devastatingly brilliant women began to challenge feminist orthodoxy, and to insist that their erotic and affective lives, their role-playing, style of dress, (even their lipstick) didn’t invalidate their personal power. This might sound quaint to you, but for me it was huge when feminists started theorizing about sexuality, writing erotica, plumbing the boundaries of autonomy and desire. There was a lot of backlash; a friend, the late Amber Hollibaugh, was thrown off a panel at Barnard College for talking about butch/femme lesbian roles. But I was inspired, and had the good luck to meet legends like Susie Bright and many others, and to read great, smart erotic stuff — fiction and non-fiction both, which probably got my writing instincts going, though I didn’t know it yet.  

Lola – Carrie’s Story is. . . how should I say?  It pushes so many limits.  How did you hit on this story?  Did the character of Carrie come to you first or did the deep, dark adventures just unfold as you went along?  What was the creative process?

Molly – I remember the first time I tried to write an SM story. It was a lazy, sunny Sunday after sex, and I was feeling really good and loosey-goosey, which I guess freed up my thoughts in some way. So, when my mind drifted to SM fantasies — and then to the fears of fascism that sometimes also flowed in along with the sexual stuff — I felt a little braver than usual, a little less guilty and a little more adventurous. Maybe sex-positive feminist thinking had actually started to penetrate; in any case, I began to wonder whether I was really the sicko I feared I was. What would happen, I wondered, if I actually let the fantasies rip? What would they look like if I wrote them down (what a concept)? So I sat down to find out.

For hours. There I sat in my ratty pink terrycloth bathrobe, scribbling and smiling and just… happy. I totally didn’t know what I was doing — I even had to run to the bookshelf to see how to punctuate dialogue. And when I wrote COMMA CLOSE QUOTE HE SAID PERIOD, I felt like God.

The story stank, though it did have a character sort of like Jonathan and a few characters who found their way into Safe Word. But it was such fun, and I felt so much myself, that I was determined to keep writing, and maybe even trust my own moral sense. Because I found that in my fantasies, I was totally turned on — obsessed really — by the idea of mutual consent, and the subtle, interesting places that can take the imagination and the relationship. I’m interested in people playing power games, exploring strange places, but from a position of mutual agreement as to the boundaries of the fantasy space. I am absolutely not interested in sex where deep down (in like reality, like in government or the economy, or like on Jeffrey Epstein’s private island) the power is unequal. 

What was missing, of course, was Carrie. The smart-girl voice who’d been in my head since Jo March, and in western fiction since Elizabeth Bennet and Jane Eyre. The brave girl who fights the power with words and wit, and who can own the experience through her smarts. I realized I needed her to tell the story I was evidently dreaming up when I “heard” that voice in a fantasy novel called Beauty, by Sheri S. Tepper.

Anyhow, once I realized that Carrie would be telling the story, and that it was a story — that is, that she feels a need to tell us how she got to where she is when she’s telling it (which we don’t know yet, except for the auction, but which suggests a lot of SM tropes), I felt like I was cleared to go. That compulsion to tell how you got where you are is a powerful narrative engine, and I began to see how you could apply this to BDSM, with its tropes of training and discipline. Even if I didn’t know the ending, I felt that it would emerge in the telling. And oddly, the first publisher, Masquerade Books, caught the mood perfectly with the cover of the first edition: something about those wide light eyes, those parted lips (other Masquerade editions went way downhill from there).

Carrie’s Story – Original Masquerade Publishing Cover

Carrie’s Story, Most Recent (and Tame) Cover

Lola – You published this in ʼ94, so you must have been writing it earlier than that. Just to be clear – that was well before 50 Shades of Grey and its imitators took BDSM into the mainstream. Were you scared by what you had written? Did you think you’d ever find a publisher for it, or an audience? What was it like to be writing this stuff at that time?

Molly – I probably started writing it in ʼ91 or so. I was in no hurry, because it felt like its own reward to be exploring my fantasy life, opening up my imagination and sharing it with my husband, who began to share his as well. I don’t usually think of myself as brave, but I did while I was writing, and that felt amazing. And yeah, sure I was scared. “Always scared,” as Carrie says at some point. Because isn’t that what bravery is, to be willing to go where it’s scary? Isn’t that how we always get where we’re going, to find our limits as we go?

Still, I wasn’t writing in a vacuum. I was breathing the air of the San Francisco sex-positive feminist community, standing on the shoulders of giants, if you will. I was playing catch-up, reading lots of erotic fiction and theory, and adding a lot of stuff from my own reading over the years. And of course, since Carrie’s a brilliant, prodigy student intellectual, it all kind of fit together for me. 

As to whether I’d find a publisher: at first I really had no idea whether the thing was publishable. I thought the writing was good; I have a fair amount of confidence in my voice. But I didn’t know if my particular take on how body and mind work together would resonate with anybody else — and of course there’s always the fear of revealing oneself and grossing people out. “It’s a pure act,” I kept telling myself. “It’s its own reward.” And — certainly compared to Fifty Shades of Grey — the Carrie books are clearly a niche taste. But as the years go by, and as still, after 30 years, every so often I open my email to read some absolutely amazing, deeply thought communication from one or another reader, the thrill of making connection never gets old.

Carrie’s Story as I imagine it

Lola – The book, and its smart, sensual, and masochistic titular main character make frequent reference to erotica classics, most notably, Story of O by Pauline Réage.  What were the books that influenced you the most in writing this one and why?

Adaptation of Story of O

Molly – I’ve already mentioned the Marquis de Sade, who was in many ways a dreadful person, but I read bits and pieces when I was a teenager, and it stayed with me. A couple of years after that I read Susan Sontag’s essay, “The Pornographic Imagination,” and she talked about how porn is often funny, which gave me permission, years later, to make Carrie funny. Anyway, Sade is funny, in a weird, cold, whacked-out way (for more on this, for anybody who’s curious, you can read the piece I wrote for Salon.com, which is still kicking around the internet at https://www.salon.com/1998/11/19/feature_459/).

Histoire d Lo

Then, of course, Story of O, which came out in English in 1966, the same summer as Bob Dylan’s record Blonde on Blonde, which was the summer I connected with the guy I’ve been married to for more than 50 years now. We passed his copy of Story of O back and forth in bed. (And many years later I wrote about it, also for Salon, https://www.salon.com/1998/08/06/feature_12/)

Blonde on Blonde?

The next, important books came years later: Gayle Rubin, the brilliant queer theorist and cultural anthropologist, recommended Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty books, and I ran-not-walked to get hold of them. I think I’d find them unreadable now (all that spanking!), but at the time, I just gobbled them up, because I loved the equal-opportunity sexuality (women as tops and bottoms; gay and straight combinations cheerfully intermingling). And I loved the Disneyland fairy-tale setting. It was so light-hearted, so technicolor: I was totally energized by the idea of this sexual magic kingdom. 

Sleeping Beauty

There were also small-press books written by local (often queer) authors, that were super hot. Pat (now Patrick) Califia, Aaron Travis, Carol Queen, Thomas Roche, and Simon Sheppard are names that spring to mind, but there were lots more: San Francisco in the 80s and 90s was bursting with creative erotic imagination; I met Tristan Taormino at an open mic, for example. And this week I went to a Zoom memorial for the recently-deceased Dorothy Freed, a stalwart at erotic writers groups, whose memoir of her longtime, loving marriage to her BDSM partner, Life After Promiscuity, I totally recommend (I copy-edited it).

Perfect Strangers by Dorothy Freed

Lola – Though the story-line is fanciful, many of the scenes are ones that could have a basis in reality.  Were any of the sexy scenarios drawn from your real-life experience?

Molly – No. Sorry. My real-life experience is much more about subtle signals and shared imaginings. A funny thing, though, is that some people I used to work with as a programmer are sure they know who I took as my model for Carrie — and they won’t tell me who!

Porn inspired by Carrie’s Story

Lola – Did you dare show the novel to any of your friends, lovers, or family when it was still in manuscript form?  If so, how did they react?  And how did they react when it got published?

Molly – I’ve always been ridiculously, naively open about this stuff. There were some people who totally didn’t get it, but in general I received remarkably little pushback, and incredible help from friends who agreed to be beta readers, including the guy who corrected a quote from the Latin somewhere. My husband, in particular, is a tough, brilliant editor who pulls no punches and always helps me improve whatever I write. I even came out to my mother about it (a long story how that happened), though I strenuously warned her not to read the stuff. But when a piece of Safe Word got into some iteration of Best American Erotica, of course she read it anyway – the word “best” just being too much for her. “What did you think?” I asked her somewhat grimly. “It was Very. Well. Written,” she replied, through a jaw that might have been wired shut. And that was that.

Lola in her collar

Lola – Before this interview, you told me that the story never got optioned by any film companies.  It’s so cinematographic.  I could totally picture everything in my mind.  I am surprised no one offered that to you, especially after the box-office killing that the ho-hum 50 Shades pulled in. Any ideas why not?

Carrie’s Story definitely inspired many movies

Molly – I’m so flattered you think that, and I do think that one of the things I do well is move characters through imagined space. But as for actually making a movie out of it… maybe it’s better that nobody has. Carrie goes through a lot of stuff that would be far less engaging if you had to look at it rather than imagine it as told through her smart-ass commentary. Or as a leatherman friend once said to me, “Pam, pain hurts!”

Pain Hurts, but degradation?

Lola –  I’m sorry for the comparison and any spoilers, but, it seems to me the whole boring premise of 50 Shades is “Will she or won’t she?” sign the contract, that is. In Carrie’s Story, there is a contract, but the joke is that it’s all just cosplay, though the pain, degradation, abasement, and humiliation are real. However, Carrie can say no at any time. As I read it, I found it interesting to wonder, “How far will she go?” And it seemed to me like this was Carrie’s question too: “How far will I go?” And she goes pretty damn far! How did the plot drive the novel for you?

Molly – I think you’ve intuited what I’m going to answer. That the energy that makes the plot go was my energy, my curiosity about how far my fantasy life would go. You can’t fake that energy — or at least can’t.

Lola – I was so glad to learn that there was a sequel because, if I have any criticism of the book, it’s that it ended prematurely.  I wanted it to go on – so badly!  Just like I want this interview to go on.  I guess I have to get reading.  But, quick question, the audio book, narrated by Shana Savage, is just fantastic! Were you involved in choosing her for that format?

The only way to fly is listening to erotica

Molly – I was involved, and it is fantastic. Susie Bright, who produced the audio, let me choose between 3 finalists, and I chose Shana. And I’m so proud that in 2014 the audio book won an Audie award for best erotica — first time they gave an award for erotica.

Eargasms

Lola – Thanks again! We will continue this soon, I hope!!!!

Molly – Thank you, and hope to speak again.

Pam Rosenthal/Molly Weatherfield

 

 

The Golden Girls – Candi Annie

Cute Candi Annie

We’re starting a new category for this blog – “The Golden Girls” – that will feature sexy mature women (and their men).  This week we’re going to begin with a woman who has been in the lifestyle before it was called that.  Candi Annie was introduced to poly relationships real early and she hasn’t let up.  She’s in her sixties now and still going strong. If you like what you read and see, leave her a sweet comment.

Here’s the interview:

LOLA – Tell us about yourself. Where’d you grow up? Where’d you go to school? What did you do for most of your life? And how did you get into taking sexy photos and making sexy films?

Candi Annie in red

C.A. – I grew up in a small town in upstate New York and went to college in Boston- to a long gone, all girls college- Bay State Junior College. Getting away from all the limitations of a small town was an eye opener for me especially when it came to sex. I wanted to do it all and let all inhibitions go away. I tried everything I could think of sexually. A married couple that I actually “dated” at the time opened me up to not only the lifestyle having sex with other women which was great and sex on-camera. They actually arranged my first venture into hardcore porn for my eighteenth birthday where they bought me a ticket to LA to be in a “professional” porn shoot. It was so exciting and fun! My life took a turn after college and I had one bad relationship after another and my sexuality was put on the back burner for a number of reasons.

Unfortunately, the “professional porn shoot” pics are lost, but Candi Annie has tried to make up for it in later life.

Candi Annie with AARP volunteers.

Candi Annie getting off

LOLA – Where did you meet your husband and how did you two grow into the lifestyle you lead now?

C.A. – I met Al on the island of St. Croix where he was living and I was getting away from a cold New York winter and another bad relationship. We hit it off immediately! We talked for hours just walking around under the warm tropical night it was so amazing to find someone that I could tell everything to and he did not judge me. That openness is what solidified our relationship from the beginning. He never thought of me as a slut or anything like that, neither of us were virgins, what BS! He was excited to know of my previous experiences and was always wanting to know what made me feel good. The first time he went down on me it was electric, my most amazing orgasm in years! The sex just kept getting better and we were like 20 yr olds having sex 4-5 times a day. We never really thought of the lifestyle since our sex lives were already great, we just didn’t need it. But early on erotic photos did add some excitement and kept that “spark” alive.

Candi Annie with a friend at home.

Candi Annie likes to dress up to go out.

Candi Annie hitting on the staff.

LOLA – I can’t believe you’re sixty! You look great! Any special hints for preserving that beauty – both in terms of your face and also your great body?

C.A. – I am getting older and I certainly see the wrinkles more and more but I have always believed in good fast paced walks 3-4 times a week, nothing crazy and frankly speaking we still have sex every day- usually wake up sex that is usually all oral. I wake up to Al licking my pussy and after I reach my orgasm, Al brings his cock to my mouth and I “milk” him. Maybe that has something to do with all over health too, a big mouthful of cum everyday! I have to admit I crave the taste!

Candi Annie says, “A load of cum in the morning keeps me looking young!”

Candi Annie, “Next!”

Candi Annie is an inspiration to Lola Down

LOLA – I’ve noticed that most of your posts are with men and mostly older men. What are you into – men, women? Would you enjoy being with a younger man or woman?

C.A. – Older men just seem to be more caring and sensual. Ever since I visited those adult theaters in College where older men surrounded me and fondled me in such an erotic and respectful manner that I never felt uncomfortable. I would enjoy one after another but they were never forceful or disrespectful. They wanted to see me enjoying myself as much as they wanted to get off! That theater is where I met the male half of that couple I mentioned earlier. They took me under their wings and introduced me to so many exciting sexual things. Age did become an issue as we went along since I was actually only 16 when I met them but we had a great couple years and all involved had a great time. I have absolutely zero regrets!

Candi Annie camping

Candi Annie greeting the neighbors at the campground

Candi Annie has been around since before women shaved the bush

LOLA – What are your kinks, fetishes, and taboo interests?

C.A. – I think I have done them all! At this point meeting fun, interesting couples to explore with is all that is left on the bucket list. To have other couples that are well traveled open, loving but are sensual, compassionate, respectful and more on the professional and quiet side is our primary interest now. We are beyond the wild loud parties and really tired of rude, crude and pushy guys.

Candi Annie working from home

Candi Annie ready for her next Zoom meeting

Candi Annie prepping for that big presentation.

Candi Annie waiting for your call

LOLA – How long have you done this – the sex posting – and how long do you hope to keep it up?

C.A. – We started posting erotic photos about twenty years ago and without doubt it has kept the spark in our relationship! Truthfully I think this may be my last year unless perhaps the financial side improves, our sex life is great and I think the couples – swingers resorts and cruises etc will be our focus moving beyond this year. Not everything has to be on camera.

Candi Annie camping again.

Keep going Candi Annie!

LOLA – Top bucket-list sex fantasy?

C.A. – Tops is to find those elusive perfect couples to explore with! They should both be Bi, as well as the previously mentioned prerequisites. Age is irrelevant as long as everything else comes together, but it will take a “mature” couple to hit it off with us- that is an attitude not an age.

Candi Annie looking great!

LOLA – Books, movies, TV shows, and other porn stars you like?

C.A. – As far as pornstars- Nina Hartley is my long time crush and with her age she just gets more impressive. I am somewhat of a John Grisham fan and read most his books . Love erotic tales as well and of course Match, Cinder & Spark books! For TV shows I love comedy!!

Nina Hartley back in the day

Nina Hartley looking hot!

Nina Hartley timeless!

LOLA – What’s your relationship with your fans?

C.A. – I have some amazing on-line lovers! It is such a turn on for me to know the men masturbate as they watch me and cum as they think of me. If that is not some kind of LOVE I don’t know what is! My biggest thrill is to receive video tributes that show them masturbating as they watch my video and end with a huge flow of cum going all over the screen! As far as meeting in person, I am very careful and let Al deal with that. I like the fantasy that I share with my lovers on-line and living up to that in person does not always work out. They have thoughts of what I am like and I love to share and let their fantasy continue but meeting the real me can let them down and that frankly terrifies me. It happened once many years ago where we met a couple in Newport, RI where we were living at the time they wanted to get together with the point to see about moving forward with an intimate relationship. The female in that couple backed out saying I was too old and not what she expected. I was devastated and that put our swinging hopes on hold for years. I now hope to just be at a resort or on a cruise where we just happen to met the right couple that we hit it off with! As for single men – it is even more difficult – rude and crude scare me! – in person anyway… on-line it is fine!

Show us some love! Send your cumtributes for Candi Annie and Lola Down to me: downloladown@gmail.com

LOLA – What’s next for you?

C.A. – More of those cruises and hope that destiny will show us the swinger way!

LOLA – Where can we see more of you?

C.A. – My main content site is: https://candiannie.com
it is forwarded to sheer currently: https://www.sheer.com/Candi-Annie
most free content: https://www.xvideos.com/candi_annie_official
latest videos and custom work: https://www.manyvids.com/Profile/437396/candi-annie/Store/Videos
always some here: https://xhamster.com/users/newbiecpl4u
others would be newbienudes and adultism plus…

social sites:
Twitter “X” – https://x.com/anniecandi73578?lang=en
Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/candiannie.bsky.social
Reddit: https://www.reddit.com/user/newbiecpl4u/?rdt=48390
MeWe: https://mewe.com/candiannie.27/posts
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61557639365527
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/candi_annie69/

If you want Candi Annie to keep doing what she’s doing into her 70’s, support her content!

Thanks so much Candi!!!!

Bye for now Candi Annie

Fountain of Youth

Lola had planned on one more meeting with Terence at the sperm bank, but the clinic had a strict rule about donors not being able to sign up for a wank more than once a fortnight.  In the intervening time, Lo’s little meeting with the director required that she attend to some other business.  You see, the director of the clinic – the owner actually – was none other than Lili’s Uncle Collin.  That’s right!  The same Uncle Collin who had hosted us at the fateful Mount Bliss.

“Hello Lola,” he said, looking up from the wooden desk behind which he sat.

“Collin?!”

“Who else?”

Lola could only look dumbfounded.  He was the last person she had expected to find at this suburban office park and running a nondescript sperm collection clinic.  What the hell was he doing here?  But then, when she thought about the décor of the place – the David Hamilton prints, the Roy Stuart posters, the Sabrina Dacos book – well, then it all began to make a bit more sense.

Lola asked all the questions that had swarmed in her mind.  What are you doing here?  How did you know it was me?  Isn’t this place supposed to be anonymous?  I never even signed in!

Suffice it to say, Collin has his ways.  A man with the unlimited means at his disposal that he has can find out a lot of things that the rest of us mere monetary mortals would find impossible.  It so turned out that his latest scheme, with his nephew David, is to develop and sell feminine moisturizing and beauty products made from the sperm of voluntary cumtributors.

“You see,” he said, “after I saw Fight Club, I thought to myself, ‘That’s ingenious!  Making soap from the fat siphoned off through liposuction.  I gave it some further consideration and struck on this even more ingenious idea.”  Collin is rarely modest.  “Collect the semen of millions of men and manufacture it, bottle it, and market it as conditioner, moisturizer, and other skin-care products for women.  Turns out – and I only learned this from the boy wonder, David – that semen contains a powerful antioxidant called spermine.  Spermine is the central component of seminal fluid and gives it its unique aroma.  It also has many health benefits that are only beginning to be discovered.”

“So, this place is just a front?” asked Lo.

“Oh no,” said Collin, “this is an actual sperm bank for the usual purposes – licensed, regulated, on the up-and-up, legit.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“I had to start somewhere.”

“I suppose so.”

“You’re looking good.”

“Oh, shucks,” said Lo, “I always look good after I jerk a man off.”

“I bet you do.”

“I don’t suppose this place will produce enough sperm for your worldwide distribution of beauty products.”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.  This is just a trial run.  What I’m thinking about doing is on a grand scale.  That’s why I’ve asked you into my office.”

“How so?”

“You see, I want to build a state-of-the-art facility that is a cross between museum and a maisons de tolerance.

“I’m sorry,” said Lo, “but you lost me with that last one.  My French is a bit rusty.”

“A maisons closes,” said Collin unhelpfully.  Lola looked perplexed.  “Fancy French brothels like Aux Belles Poules or Le Chabanais.”

“So there would be prostitutes there?”

“No, no.  Not at all.  That would be. . . illegal.  We can’t have that,” said Collin with a smile.  “But there would be the option of the donors hiring a nurse or clinical assistant.”

“You mean. . .”

“Someone like you to give the boys a hand.”

“I see.  Is that why you summoned me here?”

“I would like your assistance in the planning.  I need some help choosing, well, that is – mostly the interior decorating.”

“Oh,” said Lo, a little surprised.

“I liked your choice of posters for room number three,” he said.

“So did I,” replied Lo.

“However, for my new facility, I’d like you to help with the overall design.  You have a certain skill at making men feel. . .”

“Generous?” inserted Lo.

“Inspired.”

“Well, I certainly like the direction you’re going.”

Collin wasn’t sure how to take that.  “The David Hamilton?”

“And Roy Stuart, Sabrina Dacos, and, who knows, maybe all the staff, like Ellie and Courtney, could provide boudoir photos as well to give the place a more personal touch.”

“I love the way you think, Ms. Down.”

“Tell me more about this scheme of yours.”

Collin went on to tell Lo that, unlike an actual sperm bank, a collection center such as he envisioned wouldn’t be under any oversight by regulators since the collections were not to be used to make babies.  And the product he hoped to produce wouldn’t be under the auspices of the F.D.A. either because it would be a cosmetic product, not a drug.  Best of all, cosmetics in the U.S. have almost no oversight – not like in Europe.  Lo inquired about the logistics of it.  Collin said that the men would be paid better than the going rate at the fertility clinics and, “they’ll be glad to hear this, they can come as often as they wish since the centrifugal process – or however David plans on deriving the essence of men’s essence – doesn’t need the same sort of sperm count that a fertility clinic does!”

“That’s it!” said Lo, excited.

“What’s it?”

“Your catch phrase – Cum as often as you want!”

“That’s good.  That’s very good,” said Collin, stroking his bearded chin.  “Yes,” he continued, “men can cum twice, even three times a day if they’re up for it.”

“And I’ll see to it that they are up for it!” said Lo.

Sabrina Dacos

Sabrina Dacos

Sabrina Dacos

Roy Stuart

David Hamilton

 

 

 

 

A Woman’s Touch

Lola came home from the sperm donation clinic in a very horny mood, as you might expect.  She told me all about it as I pounded her from the top, her legs spread, both hands down between her legs spreading her pussy as wide as it would go, inserting her eight fingers on either side of my cock in order to feel as full as possible, and squirting nearly continuously the entire time, soaking the bed and me.

Lola Bed Spreading panties on

Lola Bed Spreading no panties

When we were done and she had caught her breath, she relayed a little coda to the story.  When she returned inside the clinic to grab her coat, she spoke to the receptionist about the possibility of. . . well, you know what?  I don’t want to spoil the surprise, so I’ll just cut to the next time Lo met Terence at the clinic.  Oh yes, there was a next time.  Did you think there wouldn’t be?

They met in front of the clinic just like the first time.  She greeted him, taking his hand in hers, standing on tiptoe, giving him a kiss.  In the cold air, their breath created a small cloud before their faces.  She let him see her breasts under her coat.  This time she was wearing a turquoise blouse.  It wasn’t transparent, but it was thin.  No bra.  Hard nipples in the winter chill.  He liked what he saw.  They entered the clinic and were greeted by a different, yet also attractive, receptionist.

The Masturbatorium Staff, Ellie, second from right in front.

Terence gave his name, received the specimen cup, and was told to proceed to room #3 again.  Lo said, “Wait here,” as she removed her coat and hung it up on the coat rack, just like last time.  She rejoined her companion and they walked together into the collection room.  This time Terence was immediately set on his heels by two framed posters of Lola hanging on the white walls of the small room.  They were exactly where the posters by Roy Stuart hung last time they were in room #3.  The poster right in front of them was of Lo, bent over, heaps of cum dribbling out of her well-used pussy.  The second poster was to their left and it was nearly all a classic black-and-white.  Lo was lying on her back, her legs spread, copious cum dripping out of her pussy, as her manicured fingers rubbed her clit and her other hand played with her nipples.  The poster was artistically accented with the pink of her fingernails and the pearls of her bracelet popping in color against the desaturated shades of grey.

Lola Poster

Lola Poster Cream Pie

“Is, is, is that who I think it is?” asked Terence.

Lola smiled mischievously.  “Who do you think it is?”

“I think it’s you.”

“You would be correct.  Do you like?”

“Very much,” he said, nearly panting.  “But. . . ?”

“Remember, last time, when I asked what you thought of the poster and you said. . .”

“Oh, I remember,” he interrupted.  Lola didn’t need to remind him.

“Well, I just thought the place could use a little bit of a woman’s touch.  You know?”

“But how did you. . . ?”

“I just flirted with the girl behind the desk a little and then asked her for a favor.”

“Really?”

“Yep.  Apparently it’s pretty popular.”

“Your poster?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“You see, it has the name of the blog on it?”

“Oh yeah.”

“A number of guys who have jacked off in this very room have contacted me.”

“Why?”

“To send me cumtributes of course.”

“A cumtribute?”

Lo couldn’t believe his naïveté.

“A cumtribute is a photo that a man or woman, or sometimes a couple or more, take where they show themselves getting off to my pics.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised.  “Do people do that?”

“A lot of people.”

Tribute photo from Purple’s Gem

“It’s like a kink?”

“Yes.  You have your kinks, they have theirs.”

“I could probably learn to like that kink.”

“I don’t think it would take you too long to learn.”

“I’m a quick study.”

“Speaking of kinks, let’s indulge in yours.  Ready?”

“Um, yeah!”

Lo put on the latex gloves and this time she had Terence undo and pull down his pants while she lubed up her right hand.

He sat down again and she grabbed his drooping cock in her palm.

“What does HH think of it?”

“Of what?” she asked, looking at him in his face as she absent-mindedly stroked his flaccid meat.

“Of, well, of your poster being up here.  He knows, doesn’t he?”

“Actually, no.  I didn’t tell him.”

“You didn’t tell him?!”

“It slipped my mind.”

“How does a thing like that slip your mind?”

Lola looked down, studying the project at hand.  He was growing, but still not hard.

“I guess I was busy with other things.”

“Does he know about the cumtributes?”

“Oh yeah.  I mean, he knows that I get them.  I suppose he doesn’t know about the ones I received recently from, well, from this room.”

Ellie reading from Match, Cinder & Spark to Terence while she coaxes his cum for a donation

Lola thought of all the guys who had jacked off in this room, jacked off looking at her poster, and the handful of them who had sent her photographic evidence of it.  It turned her on.  It probably turned her on more than Terence was turned on at the moment.

The Donation Station

“He knows you’re here with me right now, doesn’t he?”

“Oh yes.  I made sure of it.”

“What does that mean?”

“I like to tease.  I told him what I was going to do, where I was going to do it and with whom.”

“But he didn’t know that I’d be staring at your naked photos.”

“They don’t seem to be doing the trick.”

“Sorry,” he said, blushing.  “I guess I’m talking too much.”

“Oh, it’s ok.  I like talking. . . about me.”

“Did you pick out the photos?” he asked, looking at them again.

“I did.”

“Why did you choose these?”

“Well, the director specifically instructed Courtney. . .”

“Courtney?”

“The cute brunette behind the reception desk last time.”

“Oh, I know Courtney.”

Courtney

“I’m sure you do.  Anyhow, through her the director was very clear that I was only allowed to put up photos of myself if they included cum in them.”

“In them, or in you?” he asked.

“In, on, whatever.  What do you think of this one?” she asked, pointing to the small framed photo of her bent over in her tight latex pants with a puddle of cum on her ass.

Lola Cum Covered

“I’m hard already!”

“Yes,” she said as she looked at his erect cock, “finally.”

She stroked him as she watched how his stomach muscles flexed.  She added, “I guess the director knew that seeing a woman with cum on and in her can act as a form of encouragement.  I read somewhere. . . now where was it?  Oh yes, in the book Insatiable Wives – have you ever read it?”

“No, I’ve never heard of it.”

“Oh, it’s a great read.  It’s about, well, about hotwives, like me.”

“I’ll pick it up.”

 

 

 

 

Insatiable Hotwife Lola

“Anyhow, I read in that book that studies show men who see other men – or was it apes? – anyhow, males, let’s just say, who see other males fornicating with a female produce more sperm.  I think that’s why the director wanted sperm included in the pictures.”

“Makes sense.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to produce more sperm today?” she asked, looking down again at her hand pumping his hard, but hardly explosive cock.

“To tell you the truth. . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m really enjoying this.”

“Enjoying what?”

“You, touching me, talking to me while you fondle my cock and balls.”

Lo grabbed his left arm with her free hand and turned it to see his wristwatch.  “You’ve got about fifteen minutes.  You going to make it to the finish line?”

“Oh yeah.  I will.  You do this to HH?”

“Frequently.”

“How frequently?”

“Whenever I’m on my period.”

“You going to do it to him tonight?”

“Not if you take your full half hour to cum.  I’ll be getting a wrist massage,” she said, pausing in her pursuit of his happiness and grabbing the lube to lube up her left hand.

“Oh, sorry.  Maybe I should just get down to business,” he said, contritely.

“What will make you cum and cum quickly?”

“Well, if I could see your tits.”

“I guess you can’t see my tits in this poster, huh?”

“Nope.”

“But you can in this one.”

“Yes, but only in black-and-white.”

“OK then.  But my hands must remain sterile, so can you unbutton my blouse?”

“My pleasure!”

Slowly he undid each button, one-by-one, as she continued to manipulate his joystick in her slippery, gloved hand until the two sides of the blouse were hanging freely, as were her breasts.

“Beautiful,” he sighed.

“You like?”

“Yes.  God yes.”

She moved closer to him so the nipple of her left breast was a mere finger’s breadth from his lips.

“You may kiss, if you like.”

“And suck?”

“And suck.”

He latched on and she enjoyed it.  She released a long, guttural moan and the sound of her pleasure brought him to climax.  Unfortunately, Lo was lost in the sensation of his warm lips on her still chilly breast and didn’t immediately react to the ejaculation by having the collection cup ready.  He came on her.  On her stomach and on her black skirt.  Once she felt his hot cum making a mess, she jumped and fumbled with the jar.  She managed to collect just a fraction of the total discharge.  It would have to do.

She sealed up the cup and removed her gloves.  She used her index and middle fingers of her right hand to swipe up a good amount of the ejaculate on her torso and she slowly opened her mouth, stuck out her tongue, and placed the dollop in her mouth.  She swallowed and smiled.

“No one needs to know,” she said with a wink.

She buttoned up, wiped off her stained skirt, and walked to the receptionist’s desk.  She gave the cute receptionist the jar and grabbed her coat.

“Oh, Ms. Down,” said the receptionist, just as Lola was putting her arm through the crook in Terence’s arm to walk out together.

“Yes?”

“The director asked if you would kindly stop in to see him before you go.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Gladly,” she said.  “I mean, if that’s ok with you, darling,” she added to Terence, as if they were a couple.

“The director!  But of course!” he said with great enthusiasm.  “I will miss you at home,” he added, leaning in for a passionate kiss before parting ways.

Are you hear to donate?

Digital Inspiration

It appears that word got out about Lola’s “immoral support” of Ted, the “known donor” for our friends Gina and Cam.  You see, a while back Lo “encouraged” Ted’s selfless sperm donation.  I’m pleased to say that the process eventually proved successful.  Gina and Cam are now the proud parents of a baby boy!

They are so proud that they have told a wide circle of friends and acquaintances all about the method by which they got pregnant, including Lo’s special role in it.  One morning, out of the blue, as Lo was scrolling through her long list of long dongs, micro penises, clits and tits to get herself off, she got a message from a stranger.  That’s not too uncommon, but this stranger knew our friends Gina and Cam and he had an unusual request.

His name was Terence and he was a man in his mid-thirties.  Like most of Cam and Gina’s friends, he wasn’t straight, but he wasn’t out as gay either.  He, like Lola, identified as “queer.”  But he wasn’t just queer, he had a downright perverted side to him.  There were a lot of things that he enjoyed doing to get himself off, but I’ll let those unfold as we get to them.  At this point, the one kink that he revealed to Lo was pertinent to the ask he had of her.

“I go to the sperm bank regularly to make a donation,” he said.

That’s quaint, thought Lo, as first.  A good Samaritan who, like a blood donor, gives of himself for others.  Not quite.  It turns out he likes to go there in order to wank in a public setting.  He likes the thought that the receptionist knows that he is jerking off in the room next to her.

This revelation really turned Lo on.  She had never thought of that possibility before.  Whenever she had thought of a sperm bank, which, given Lo’s predisposition for naughty imaginings she had thought of on occasion, she only thought of guys going in there embarrassed, a little humiliated, and bashful.  She hadn’t entertained the idea of a quasi-exhibitionist being turned on by the thought of everyone knowing from the outset what his particular purpose for visiting the clinic is and that, when done, they all know for certain what he had just accomplished.

She was intrigued, to say the least, and she carried on a lengthy correspondence with him.  He told her that he had been doing this on a regular basis at the same collection clinic for months now.  He also mentioned that – by design or happy coincidence – all the nurses at this clinic are very attractive and that he had built a special rapport with one of them named Ellie.

He told Lo how Ellie always works the closing shift.  For convenience, the collection clinic is open from 8:00 a.m. to 9:30 p.m.  They found that they get more people willing to donate after work hours.  She is the only staff on site, except for the security guard, after five.  He had made it a regular habit to donate when she’s working and she has taken some liberties with the rules.  It started out that he noticed her flirting with him.  Then, one week, he found a photo of her on the top of the pile of magazines.  Each week the photo she placed there got a little bit more risqué.  One week, when he exited the collection station room, he apologized to her and said, “I made a little mess.  I missed the target and spilled some semen on your, I mean, the photo in there.”

She gave him a knowing look.  He imagined, but couldn’t confirm, that she went into the room after and got the cum-covered glossy photo of herself and did something with it.  The next week he found she had left a nude photo of herself.  He made sure to make a mess of that too and apologize again.

Within the month, she was in the collection room with him, jerking him off.  She began by merely stroking him.  But then it progressed to her stroking him and reading passages from books and blogs.  At one point, she read to him from Match, Cinder & Spark.  She was already familiar with Lola and me because we had written about her in the post, “Triangles of Sadness.”  After she broke up with Steven, she actually became infatuated with Lola, even though Lola was the cause of her breakup.

Ellie & Steve before the breakup

It was a small world because she also read the story about Lola: “ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor.”  Terence realized that this Lola Down was the same person that his friends Cam and Gina had told him about.  Now he had her email address (through the blog) and he reached out to her.  Having learned about Lo’s personality, he wisely included some sexy selfies.

Terence expressed his kinky wish to Lo.  He knew that this donation clinic allowed for wives or significant others to accompany the donor in order to help with the donation process.  He wanted Lola to pose as his girlfriend for that purpose.  And, he wanted to do it during the day shift when his special nurse wouldn’t be there and so the nurses who didn’t know him would now be aware of exactly what he and Lola were up to in that room.  It was an extension and variation on his fundamental kink which was simply jerking off in a room merely a few feet from the nurse who knows what he’s doing and then seeing her face afterwards.

Perhaps unremarkably, the exotic and extravagant nature of this kink turned Lo on.  She spent many nights whispering in my ear, asking me what I thought it would be like for her to do this for Terence because, you see, Terence had just donated and so now needed to wait a couple of more weeks before he could schedule to make his deposit with Lo’s assistance.

Night-after-night she tantalized me by masturbating in the bed next to me, looking at Terence’s photos – which only got more explicit and, according to Lo, more hot, each day – and telling me the narrative of how she would like the session to go.

Lola looking at cumtributes.

Finally, the big day came – and so did Lo, many times that morning before she left our warm bed to meet Terence at the fertility clinic.

It was a bitterly cold day.  We had been in the grip of a cold-snap for two or three days already.  Lo had spent at least an hour prepping for her little lab-assistant role.  She tried on at least five different outfits, asking me each time, “What do you think about this?”  I loved each one, but as soon as I said so, she found it objectionable for some reason and started anew.  Finally, she decided on a short skirt, black nylons under it, no panties.  A black, mostly transparent, crepe blouse, no bra.  Over that incredibly hot outfit, she draped her long, heavy white coat and put on her knee-high leather boots.

Lo getting dressed for “work”

I was desperate to have her.  Every outfit change, she stripped back down to nothing at all and it was too much for me to bear.  I was hard and suffering and she made me sit through the entire process.  Not that I was complaining, but it was a form of sexual torture.

She left me high and dry with the instruction that under no circumstances, was I to masturbate.  That is pretty much a standing rule, but she knew how hot she had made me for her and she knew she’d want all that pent-up energy for herself upon her return.

Just like that she was off!  She was to meet Terence at the clinic.  Separate cars.  This was not a date.  Lo was very clear about that.  This was a clinical assistance project.

Whatever she wanted to call it, she arrived before Terence.

Lo waited in the car.  She could see her breath as she waited.  She touched herself between her legs, gently stroking over the nylons.  She liked the feel of the nylon as it rubbed against her pussy and clit.  She was getting wet.  Her warm wetness and the dropping temperature in the car was stimulating her between her legs.  She knew she wouldn’t be able to wait much longer.  Either he had to arrive or she’d have to “go all the way” with herself.

She saw Terence walking in the parking lot.  “Good,” she thought, “because any longer and I’d cum right here and who knows?  Maybe I’d squirt and it would freeze!”

Lo practically leapt out of the car and met him.

“Hey,” she said, trying to play it cool.

“Hi.”

It was awkward, but only for a moment.  Lola grabbed his hand.  “We’re supposed to be a couple, right?”

“Right,” he said.

They walked together into the clinic.  They stopped at the reception desk.  Terence flashed a cordial but gregarious smile at the woman sitting behind counter.  He introduced himself and said that he had an appointment for noon.  The woman typed something into her computer and then smiled back.

“Yes, room three,” she said, looking at Lola who had opened her long white coat to reveal the transparent blouse underneath it.  For a brief moment, Lola thought she had overplayed her hand.  The receptionist typed something into her computer and then looked up at Terence and Lo.  She said, “Ah yes, I see you have already entered the information about your service assistant.”

Lo tried to smile politely at the woman, but she felt as if “service assistant,” sounded too much like “service dog.”  But then Lo’s mind went to that kinky area (which is about 99% of her mind) and she began to think what it would be like to have a “service dog” to service her in the manner that she was about to service Terence.  Lo was already getting wet.  Or, wetter, I should say.

The receptionist passed a collection jar to Terence and also passed him an individual sized, complementary miniature tube of special lube that would not contaminate the collection sample.

“Do you need instructions?” she asked as she handed the lube to Terence.

“No, I’ve been here before.”

The receptionist gave him a knowing look and then went back to her typing.

Terence casually led Lo down the white, sterile hallway and to room three.  All along the hall were posters of Roy Stuart’s photos.  Terence opened the door and let Lo in like a gentleman.  In the little white room was a sink, a small white shelf next to it, a comfortable chair, a small TV screen with a CD player, some porno mags under the TV and more framed Roy Stuart posters on the walls.  Lo also noticed a large, coffee table book by one of her favorite photographers, Sabrina Dacos.

Roy Stuart Photography

Roy Stuart “Glimpse”

Sabrina Dacos Selfie

Sabrina Dacos tits and shaved snatch

Lo looked around, taking it all in.  She was even more excited now as she imagined all the men who had been in this room and what they were doing there.  Sex, in all its permutations and manifestations, holds a perpetual allure for Lo.

One thing that Lo’s keen observation of the room and its objects didn’t see was a coat rack for her white overcoat.

“You sit down.  Get comfortable,” she said to Terence.  “I’m going to find a place to hang up my coat.”

She turned back around and went out to the receptionist.

“Excuse me,” she said as politely as she could, “but is there a place for me to hang my coat?”

The receptionist pointed her down a different hallway.  “Just to your left,” she said.

Lo walked down that hallway and, to her surprise, she saw framed posters lining it with images by David Hamilton.

David Hamilton’s Laura

Art by David Hamilton

She saw a line of coat hangers along the far wall and she hung up her coat.  Walking back towards the receptionist – the building was shaped like an ‘L,’ with the receptionist at the intersection of the two perpendicular wings – she said, “I didn’t know you had a children’s section.”

The receptionist looked up, blank-faced.  She saw Lo’s prominent breasts, nearly naked, just under the loose-fitting sheer black blouse.  She merely opened her mouth, making a little pout with her lips.  Lo wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she took it as a compliment and walked past her proudly.

Lo breezed by a single man in the hallway who was also on his way to a different room.  Lo made clear and unambiguous eye contact with him.  However, his eyes quickly looked down and settled on Lo’s tits.  Lo could understand the allure to both working there and going there as an exhibitionist like Terence.  There was something exciting and stimulating for Lo knowing that the man she passed in the hall was either about to go jack off or had just finished.  And it excited her for him to know that she was roaming the hallway in search of stimulating some eager altruist ready to selflessly give his essence to some needy couple.  Lo walked briskly, keenly anticipating her part to play with Terence.

Terence was now sitting in the chair.  Lo looked at him.  He smiled at the sight of her in the blouse.  Lo had expected he would be naked, or at least pantless by this point, but he was just sitting there, clothed as he was when Lo went down the hall.  He also wore a wide grin on his face, staring at her tits and then her eyes and back to her tits.

“So,” said Lo, “how do you want to do this?”

“I guess, if you just unzip me, pull me out, lube me up, and I’ll take it from there,” he said.

Lo pulled out two sterile latex gloves from the box on the counter next to the Sabrina Dacos book.  She put them on and then unbuttoned Terence’s pants, unzipped the fly, pulled them down around his ankles.  He was already hard and bulging from under his tight white underwear.

Lo pulled down the underwear and his long, thick dick sprung out like a Jack-in-the-Box.  Lo marveled at its size, shape, and apparent eagerness to donate.

“You like?” he asked.

“MmmmHmmmm,” she moaned.  Her face was only inches away from the specimen and, had they been in another setting, she would have taken the meat in her mouth with relish.  But she could not do that, lest the donation become contaminated and useless.

“Anything in particular that will help you?”

“Can you get naked?”

“No,” said Lo, as if offended.  “This is not for pleasure.  This is a selfless act of generosity to both science and humanity.”

What a load of malarkey!  Did she actually believe that?  No.  It was part of the game.

“Then,” he said a bit disappointed, “can you at least stand close to me?”

In point of fact, she was actually standing right next to him.  He sat.  She leaned over and held his cock in her gloved hand.  She was bouncing it on her fingers to see just how rigid, weighty, and stiff it was.  Then she put a heaping dab of the lube in her palm.  She slowly applied the lube to his shaft, deliberately stroking up-and-down, base-to-tip, a few times before setting to work in earnest.  She began vigorously jerking him off.

“A little slower,” he requested politely.

She shifted into a lower gear.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Your tits.”

“Say more.”

“I want to suck them and lick them.  Those nipples under your blouse – God!  They look amazing.”

She leaned in a little further so that the apex of her breasts were mere centimeters from his lips.

“How long does it typically take you to cum?” she asked.

“I masturbate a lot,” he said.

“That’s ok.”

“So it takes me nearly the full half-hour.”

The rooms were assigned by half-hour increments, but the staff preferred if donors were faster so they had proper time to clean up and disinfect each room when done.

When he said this, Lola took it as a personal challenge.  How quickly could she get this compulsive masturbator to ejaculate?

“When’s the last time you came?” she asked.

“This morning.”

“What?!  I thought they only allow you to donate once every two weeks because if you did it more often it lowers the sperm count.”

“Yeah, that’s a dumb rule, isn’t it?” he said, looking at Lo, their eyes and mouths very close.  “I mean, they can’t monitor or control what happens at home.”

“What did you cum to this morning?” she asked.

“Thinking about you doing this.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“And, in your imagination as you were at home in bed jacking off, what did you think would happen?”

“Can I tell you the truth?”

“Yes, please!”

“I was jacking off in bed next to my sleeping wife.”

“Your wife?!” asked Lo, still stroking up-and-down, “You’re married?”

“Yes.  You didn’t know that?” he said, looking directly at her now.

“No, I didn’t know anything about you except that you heard about me through Gina and Cam and what you’ve told me.”

“Are you upset?”

“No, not at all.  Why should I be?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe you think I’m a perverted, sleazy, creep.”

“Why would I think that?  Because you’re married and go to a sperm bank to get off and you masturbate in bed next to your sleeping wife?”

“Well, uh, yeah.  When you put it that way.”

“Don’t.  Everyone has their kinks, their quirks, their turn-ons and offs.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

“I mean, I know that, but you don’t think bad of me because of it?”

“Of course not.  In fact, it turns me on that you were jerking off next to her.”

“It does?”

“Yes,” she said, adding pressure to her grip and speed to her stroke.  “It will turn me on more if you told me what you were thinking about as you did it.”  She brought it back to this because he was losing his hard-on with all the conversation.

“I was thinking that you’d get naked and let me feel your body, maybe let me suck your tits, and. . .”

“Now, now,” said Lo, putting a damper on his hopes, “that would be against the rules.”

In point of fact, there were no rules other than not contaminating the sample by coaxing it out either orally or vaginally.  But no rules were in force to stop Lola from getting naked.  She just liked enforcing arbitrary rules.

“Too bad,” he said.

“What do you think of that?” asked Lo, indicating the Roy Stuart poster in front of them.

Terence glanced up at the brunette in the frame and then looked deep into Lola’s eyes and simply said, “I wish it was you.”

That little comment put an idea in Lo’s head and she felt herself gushing from the thought of it.

She started moaning as if she were the one receiving the erotic massage and the auditory stimulation really got Terence going.

“Are you wet?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You like stroking me?”

“Mmmmm, so much.”

“You want to see me cum?”

She just bit down on her lower lip and this was enough to bring Terence to the brink.

“Quick!  The specimen jar!”

Lo grabbed it as Terence took matters in his own hands and aimed right at the small target.  Out came loads and loads of cum – more than Lo had ever seen before in one orgasm.  If she was gushing just a moment ago, now she was a full-on leaky labiator.

“FUUUUUUCK!” cried out Terence, certainly loud enough for the receptionist to hear.

“That’s a boy,” encouraged Lo, dropping to her knees as if wanting desperately to be the receptacle for his deposit, as if worshiping his cock and potency, as if weak in her knees from the visual excitement.

When he was done, he cleaned up the bit he spilled or dribbled down his leg and then he pulled up his pants, zipped up, tucked in his shirt, and made himself generally presentable.

Lo and Terence emerged from room #3 and walked to the reception desk.  Terence dropped off the collection container and the receptionist looked up without any expression on her face.

“All set,” said Terence.

“All set,” the receptionist replied with a polite smile.

Lo was holding Terence’s hand as if she was his girlfriend.  She returned the polite smile to the receptionist and the two of them walked out into the freezing cold.  Lo’s nipples became like diamond cutters immediately and she squeezed Terence’s hand and said, “You go on home.  I forgot my coat!”  She gave him a loving kiss, open-mouthed, and squeezed his hand before turning around and going back into the clinic.

Terence waited a bit in the parking lot, but when Lo didn’t come back out for a while, he figured he’d better drive away before he looked like he was stalking her, or someone else at the clinic.  After all, his car was on, the windows were fogging up, and it was clear from the exhaust that he was just idling in the parking lot outside the front doors of the sperm donation site.

Send Lo your cumtribute.

“This is my body, given for you.”

“What are those for?”
“These are for later.”

 

Lo is naked in bed.  “Come, Daddy.  Fuck me.”

“No, I’m writing.”

“Oh, please!!!!”

“Later.  Not now.”

“Then be a doll and fetch me a cucumber.”

I get her the vegetable from the kitchen and bring it to her in the bedroom.

“Now give me a condom.”

“Why?”

“You know what sort of stuff they put on this thing?  Insecticides, wax, who knows what!  Put a condom over any phallic-shaped object and you’re good to go.”

“Thanks for the free advice,” I say as I pull a condom out from my nightstand drawer.

“You’re welcome.”

I begin to leave the room.

“You sure you don’t want to get in on this?” she asks as she spreads her legs and puts the cucumber in her hole.”

“I’ll pass on the salad.  I haven’t even had breakfast yet.”

“Well, you’re missing out.  The dressing is homemade.”

I leave the room and return to my computer where I try to continue writing.  My thoughts are disturbed by the moans, groans, and then screams and sighs that I hear my little nymphet producing like a primitive mating call, signaling to all within earshot that she is eager for cock, or pussy, or something.  I believe I read about that as an actual scientific theory in the book Sex at Dawn.  Women are louder than men when it comes to sex because their sounds are an enticement for other men to fuck them, thus increasing the likelihood of fertilization.

Just a fun photo I found featuring Sex at Dawn

That morning I was able to prove the theory true through the scientific method of replication of results.  No sooner had Lola howled to the heavens about how filling and nutritionally valuable her ‘vagetable’ was, than there was a knocking at the door.

Annoyed, I get up from my computer, where I hadn’t been able to write more than a sentence, and I answer the door – Lola’s sex-singing still quite audible in the background.  Standing at the door is a FedEx delivery guy.  He seems to be in his fifties.  Old, tired, rundown.  However, he hears the post-self-coital cooing coming from the bedroom.

“I have a package for delivery.  It needs your signature.”

I look at the package.  I see Lo’s name on it.  “Oh, it’s not for me.  It’s for Lola,” I say, looking up at him.

“Whatever,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.  “I just need a signature.”

I’m feeling particularly wily that morning and so I insist that it be signed by Lola.

“Lo!” I call, “Oh Lo,” I repeat in a sing-song fashion.

“I’m busy!” I hear bellowing down the hall and I also just perceive the sound of her Hitachi Magic Wand buzzing in the background like a distant hedge trimmer.

“There’s a man here to see you,” I say in a loud voice.  I look at the delivery man and give him a knowing wink.

Lo comes stomping down the hallway, barefoot, naked, her inner thighs glistening with the glaze of her last orgasm, her breasts flailing from left to right with each deliberate footfall.

“What?  Who?”

She stands behind me and sees the delivery man.

“Signature, ma’am,” he says, unflustered.

Lo wedges herself in front of me and stands, stark naked in the doorway, grabbing the electronic signature board, scribbling her name and taking the package.

“It’s a big package” she says, not about what is in her hands, but about the delivery man.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he says.

“You need something?” she asks.  “A drink?  You look parched.”

“No ma’am,” he says, so politely, “I must be going.”

“OK, too bad,” she says, licking her lips.

He turns and walks to his truck.

“What is that?” I ask Lo of the package.

“The latest from ErosettiPress.”

“Oh really?!” I say, excited.

“Yep,” she says, tearing open the package.

She pulls out the very handsome hardcover book: The Anthology of Erotic Narrative, Volume I: Fetish.  “Look!  Our story!”  She shows me the chapter, “Crisscross,” which includes a sexy illustration of Lola, on her back, as sushi is displayed upon her for a nyotaimori feast.

“Dante Remy, the editor, had to condense it from the original,” she adds by way of explanation.

“I frequently have that problem – too much length.”

“Not with me you don’t,” she says.  “Oh!  And look!  They even included a little blurb about us!”

She reads from the bio page:

 

H.H. & Lola, based in the US, push the boundaries of conventional relationships, captivating their readers and followers with their unapologetic exploration of desire and the endless possibilities of a love that knows no limits.  Their large erotic cult following includes tribute artwork and photos from readers, often displaying their books in explicit context.  These fan images and art are published along with the stories in their books, and on their active blog and social media presence.  They are at the center of a community of erotic art and expression.  You can engage with them on their blog site mysexlifewithlola.com and their X and Instagram social media.

 

“What do you think?” she asks me.

“You didn’t write that?” I ask her.

“No, silly!”

“Well, I like it.”  I take the book from her hands to read it over once again.  “I especially like the ‘unapologetic’ bit.”

“Yes, that describes you,” she said, not without a hint of irony.

“And the ‘large erotic cult following.’  That’s nice.”

“Yep – and true.”

“He says we are ‘the center of a community of erotic art and expression.’”

“Well, aren’t we?”

“I guess.  I just never thought of us like that.”

“I’ve thought of me like that,” she remarks.

“Of course you have.  Too bad we have since been banned from X and Instagram.  If the Marquis de Sade lived today, he wouldn’t be locked up in the Bastille, he’d be banished from social media!”

“You keep on having grandiose thoughts of you and Sade and the evil electronic geniuses aligned against you, I think I’ll go back to my regularly scheduled programming,” she says, taking the book and walking down the hall.

“Hey,” I call to her.

She stops and turns around.  “Yes?”
“What’s put you in this Saturday morning self-abuse mood?”

“Do I need a reason?”
“No, but you usually have one.”

“If you must know, I’ve been getting a lot of fan mail ever since we posted the interview with Hani Miletski.”

Totally Taboo?”
“Yeah, that one.”

“What sort of fan mail?”

“Why don’t you cum and read it with me?  I mean, wait, reverse that.”

“Very funny.”

I follow her down the hall to the bedroom where she has the cucumber, her Hitachi, and her laptop all spread out over the bed.

She turns the computer screen toward me and shows me an image from a female fan.  It is of a young, mid-thirties woman, in bed, a towel wrapped around her hair as if she had just got out of the shower, with her two children, a girl and a boy, suckling at her breasts.  Above and behind her, on the wall, are mounted two framed paintings from the blog.  One of MILF Meri and her son, the other of Lola as a little girl with her panties over her head, standing naked and defiant.  Both artworks were made by our dear Ukrainian friend Sergii.

Pam at home breastfeeding with art by Sergii above her

“And who is this?” I ask.

“Her name is Pam and she’s a housewife raising twins – a boy and a girl.  She doesn’t believe in setting an age for ending breastfeeding.  She told me she’s inspired by Sophie Rose.”

“Who?”

“Oh, never mind.  It’s a movement to breastfeed kids later into life.”

“That’s a movement?”

“Yeah, but she’s on the fringes of that movement?”

“What’s that mean?”

“She is advocating for breastfeeding-self-care.”

“Now you’ve lost me.”

“She enjoys a wank-spank under the covers while the twins are latched onto her tits.”

“And that’s a movement?!”

“Well, not yet, but she is hoping to make it one.”

“You find all kinds,” I said in astonishment.

“It’s not all that uncommon,” remarked Lo, rather clinical about it.  “Pam discovered, like a lot of women who breastfeed, that it is or can be stimulating.  Sexually stimulating.  She got all tingly between her legs.  One day, at the airport no less, she was breastfeeding and, to her complete and utter surprise. . .”

“You mean udder surprise,” I suggest.

“Just full of wit this morning, aren’t ya, ole man?  She suddenly squirted, right out of the blue, right there in public!  She realized later that it was probably a combination of being sexually frustrated – she was going to see her husband who was stationed across the country for work – and the excitement of having her breasts exposed in public where she was getting a lot of stares.”

“Don’t they have special rooms for that?”

“I don’t know,” says Lo, returning the cucumber to its holster inside her as she places the Hitachi on her clit and looks at the photo again.  “But now she does it all the time.  She says it creates the most intense orgasms and bonding experience she’s ever felt.  Now she’s trying to spread the word.  That’s why she wrote to me.  When she saw the interview with Melitski, she thought that our blog would be a good way to publicize the masturlactation method, as she calls it.”

“A portmanteau of ‘masturbation’ and ‘lactation’ I assume?”

She is too fully engaged in her own masturbation to answer me.

Without looking at me, she simply says, “Suck my tits, Daddy.”

I comply, leaning over to latch onto her left breast while my right hand fondles and pulls on her right nipple.  She instantly climaxes – her clenching pussy shooting the cucumber straight out of her pussy like a torpedo!  That is followed by a tsunami of squirt.

“Holy FUCK!” she says, as she apparently surprised even herself.

“Feel better, Love?” I ask.

She laughs to herself.

“What?” I ask.

“As I was cumming, I had the weirdest thought.”

“What was that?” I ask, realizing that we have been in the realm of weird for quite some time.

“I wondered if all those millions of images of the Madonna and Child – you know, of the Virgin Mary and Jesus as an infant at her breast – I wondered if in all of them, if the Holy Mother is in the state of orgasmic bliss.  Isn’t that weird?  I mean, wouldn’t that be something?”

Mary and Baby Jesus

“Only you could have a theophany to put you over the edge.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to write.”

“What are you going to write?” she asks, skimming through images of the Madonna and Child.

“All about you.”

Caravaggio – Madonna and Child with St. Anne

Fan Photo

Match, Cinder & Spark: Volume VI – Slut Life Review by Emme Witt-Eden

Our latest publication by ErosettiPress, Match, Cinder & Spark: Volume VI – Slut Life, was reviewed by the popular erotic author, Emme Witt-Eden. Here’s what she had to say.

Five-Star review of Slut Life by Emme Witt-Eden:

Emme Witt-Eden, a.k.a. Mysterious Witt, with her first MC&S volume.

Slut Life is the second book I’ve read of the Match, Cinder, and Spark series—and take two doesn’t disappoint. Penned by H.H. to capture more hot tales of his life with his lusty lady Lola Down, I just can’t get enough of this couple’s libidinous antics. Stories about their vacations at a beach house seriously delight, and I love hearing about their fun with their friends, even if some are (shockingly!) quite judgmental.

Take one hypercritical mate, who dares call Lola a (gasp!) “fuck-crazy whore.” As if that’s not a compliment! But this particular “friend” wouldn’t let up with the condemnation of Miss Down, asking if H.H. wasn’t “embarrassed” by all of her fucking around with other people.

Mais non! H.H. only pities the poor soul, whom he declares is still caught in “the slut/stud, sinner/saint, virgin/whore dichotomy that has plagued Western sexuality since Eve and Lilith and only became worse with the whole cult of the Virgin that blossomed in the 12th Century.” (Yup—what you get when you read erotic literature written by a professor at a small liberal arts college in New England.) H.H. ends his lecture by telling this judgey character that he will never be happy with any woman until he learns that love is not “limited or limiting.”

H.H. goes on to school another one of their less-than-broad-minded female pals, who also doesn’t get his open relationship with Lola. “I mean, her having sex with other guys—it sort of implies that you’re not enough for her; that you’re not enough of a man. Doesn’t it upset you?” To which H.H. replies: “No, it doesn’t upset me at all. I encourage it.” To further enlighten this female friend, H.H. adds, “…her demand outstrips my supply…” And then the clincher: “The other part of it is, it turns me on to see Lo with other guys, and with other women too…”

H.H. defines this desire as “cuckolding,” but as someone with a bit of experience in this department (did I mention I’m a former pro-domme?) I’d say he’s actually describing the practice of “hotwifing.” See, cuckolding is about humiliation, and I don’t think H.H. feels degraded by Lola’s erotic adventures with other people, but more proud (and aroused) that he calls such a hot and frisky babe his partner.

This isn’t to say that H.H. is wholly confident in their relationship. He shares he’s not jealous of the sex Lola has with others but *is* insecure. And yet, he writes that “flirting with this danger line makes the whole thing all-the-more exciting. It becomes an adrenaline rush—a high that is simultaneously incredibly uncomfortable and addictive.”

As if Slut Life can’t get any better, I love the way H.H. incorporates tidbits of wisdom from the book The Love Elite by Arthur H. Hirsch. Explains H.H.: “A woman who is part of the ‘love elite’ understands she is free, asserts her equality with man. She is at odds with society’s values (which are based on women’s subordination). She rejects the notion that she is a fallen woman when she loves freely.”

Yes, yes, and yes! Can I say how many times my own desire to seek erotic couplings with multitudinous partners has been misconstrued as evidence that I don’t respect myself? But that’s not true at all! I’m simply exercising my right to pleasure as a human, demonstrating that I, too, have the same privilege as a man to orgasm with whomever and whenever I want. I’m not “lesser” for seeking out many casual carnal experiences in my life; I’m simply free.

What a pleasure to read this smart, sleek volume of erotic stories that not only inspire the body but the mind, too. Highly recommend!

Emme Witt-Eden looks good cumming or going.

Here are two more reviews.

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!

Still Crazy After All These Years!

You might think that the title of this post is referring to HH and me, your beautiful blog bunny, Lola. Well, it’s not. It’s referring to an inspiring older couple, Mr. and Mrs. E, who have a Just For Fans site that is just amazing!

Mr. E is a talented artist, and his talent shows in his photography. Mrs. E is his muse and a beautiful model. Together they are a couple that other kinky couples can admire and hope to inspire.

The Mrs. is a fan of Match, Cinder & Spark!

Here’s my interview with them:

Q: I went through your whole Just For Fans. It looks like you started back in late 2019, but you migrated there from Tumblr. When did you two start with the erotic photography?

A: Mr E: I wanted to show her, how erotic and sexy she was/is… so we played around just for us. Watching the pictures on big TV-screen and having fun.

Mrs E: Very often the shoots lead to passionate fucking sessions.

Mr E.: Around 2015 I discovered tumblr. – that was great, you could post uncensored, had great style, nice Archive. Perfect – We had 85K Followers, when the tumblr purge started. They deleted our blog – with 12K pictures…

Mrs E: He was devastated… we were devastated… than MeWe came along, they also deleted some blogs…

Mr E: Then I was looking for a safe haven… where we could keep the nerds and idiots out. The money (it’s only 1/10 of what we (mostly me !) spend on lingerie…) – One platform we like, but lately problems with the followers counter, is X formerly Twitter…

Mrs E: I love to see the posts on the big TV-screen, also after every shooting…

 

 

 

Q: I was going to say, it looks like you spend a lot on lingerie! Was it a fetish for both of you, or did you both grow into it? Does Mr E ever like to wear the lingerie? (BTW, that’s a BIG turn-on for me – men in panties and nylons, etc.)

A: Mrs E: I always loved lingerie, but Mr E really got me into it…

Mr E: I was always a big fan of stockings and garters and nylons, and for the shoots I was looking for nice stuff… from every business trip she got some pieces…

 

 

Q: I see that Gunter Blum and Roy Stuart are featured in some of your photos. Are they big influences on either of you? Who else is an influence in the photos you take?

A: Mr E – Artistic and aesthetically a lot of artists had an influence on me… photographer: beside the ones you mentioned, are H. Newton, Araki, Knoll and others…

Mrs E: I loved it when he brought the newest LEG SHOW issue home…. great inspiration…

 

 

Q: For Mrs E: I see in some of the photos images of you apparently getting off to other photos of sexy, scantily clad or naked women. Are you into women? More generally, what are your kinks and do you have sex with anyone besides or in addition to Mr.?

I think she’s into Lola Down

A: Mrs E: I have a lot of close female friends, love to look at sexy women, but I’m not into women. We had some experiences with other couples (not really satisfying) and few MMF – one was fine, but from far away… He loves to fantasize about us with another man…

Q: Well, I will admit, I wish it was my photos all over the wall in this beautiful picture! (wallpaper)

A: Mr E: that’s a funny crazy story: coming home from a business, she surprised me with a Paperwall (between a door) covered with this porn collage. It was a Lucky Hole!!!!

Q: Do either of you care to share how it came about and what inspired it? (Squid photo)

A: Mrs E: Mr E loves to cook! Holidays on a Island with a great population of these delicious animals made us fantasize… btw. it was delicate cooked… lol –

Q: Tell me, what are your hopes, dreams, plans for the future with regard to the erotic photography? Do you think you’ll make a book of it?

A: Mr E: We don’t plan to much, as long as we love what we do, we carry on… and yes a book is one of our opportunities… or NFT… but all is vague…

Q: I see in one of the photos, she’s reading “Talk Dirty to Me.” What sort of erotica do you two (or each of you) enjoy? What sort of porn? Do you like to masturbate together or alone or both?

Favorite Erotica? Match, Cinder & Spark

A: Mrs E – I read everything from classic erotic literature to pornographic texts. But I like it best when he reads to me, his dark erotic voice turns me on… I like looking at other women, old Leg Show magazines or artistic pornography. That’s why our favorite go-to erotica has been your Match, Cinder & Spark books! Every now and then we watch porn together, sometimes just as a silent background wallpaper.

Mr E: I am well-educated in pornography. LOL – I’ve always been interested in the history of pornography. As a media person, I’m a porn gourmet, even if I enjoy home cooking now and then. I read a lot, including theoretical writings on pornography, so it was obvious to try to create aesthetic pornography yourself.

Lola: Thank you both for this interview – it was such a turn-on to talk with you and to learn from you!!! We both wish you two the best with your erotic adventures!

Go check out Mr. and Mrs. E at stillcrazyafteralltheseyears on Just For Fans!

Emme Witt-Eden’s Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

Two weeks ago we were lucky enough to be asked by our dear friend, Emme Witt-Eden (known to many of you as “Mysterious Witt”), if we would read and review her newly published memoir: Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl. We said “YES!” very enthusiastically.

We weren’t disappointed. The book was a pleasure to read. It was a page turner and the short chapters were bite-sized but delicious! We each devoured it and then, when we got together to discuss the review, we devoured each other!

Here is the review of the book. In the next post we’ll have an exclusive interview with the author!

Promo for Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl

Fuck Eat, Pray, Love.  Read Confessions of a Middle-Aged F-Girl instead. There’s more sex, more insight, and it’s better written. Oh, and there’s also more sex.  Did I mention that?

Emme Witt-Eden’s Confessions takes you, the reader, on a journey from her midlife, middle-class, middling marriage to her terrific, if tormented, sexcapades of self-sexploration.

After Emme’s husband confesses to having a string of affairs, facilitated by Ashley Madison, Emme decides it’s high time to declare the time of death on her nearly non-existent sex life and venture out into the world of L.A. dating.

Emme first browses the Casual Encounters page of Craigslist (the story begins over a decade ago) to find her next cock to conquer. After a few revelatory romps in the sack, she then transforms into a “Middle-Aged Fuck-Girl.” Emme prefaces the book with six “definitions” of a fuckgirl. I have always thought of a fuckgirl as a modern take on the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but one who doesn’t just flit about like Holly Golightly, but also gets down and dirty, living up to the updated title. (Although, to be fair, Holly Golightly was a prostitute, or, as Truman Capote said, a New York City “geisha.”)

If I am correct in this comparison between f-girls and MPDGs, then it may be that Emme is neither, for another defining characteristic of both is an almost complete lack of inner depth, subjectivity, and interiority, as well as a compulsion to define oneself as simply and merely the romantic interest (some may say ‘play-thing’) of a man. Any man. All men.

By contrast, the defining characteristic of this memoir (as it should be for any memoir) is Emme’s self-reflection (in some passages, literally), her sense of inner growth and turmoil, and quite poignantly, her feelings of responsibility to her children, guilt and remorse about her failed marriage, and longing to find herself.

This travelogue to the depths of Emme’s soul and the bedrooms of single and married men around L.A. is told through a crisp narrator who uses some beautiful metaphors. Reflecting on her insecurity about entering the dating world as a forty-year-old single mom of two, Emme says, “If my new boat was bogged down with my issues, I decided sex would be my life raft.”

The overarching “issue” is Emme’s reeling in pain from the shock of her husband’s prolific infidelity and, even more than this, his ability to deceive Emme for so many years into thinking that he just wasn’t interested in sex. As it turned out, he was interested in sex, just not with her (until she throws him out, that is).

Consciously or unconsciously, or maybe unconsciously until, in the process of writing it became conscious, Emme’s promiscuity was a way of taking revenge on her philandering husband David, as well as feeling her own feminine power. Emme’s vagina becomes both the site of her emotional charging station – “With each thrust of Kent’s cock, he pushed life back into me.” – and a symbolic scar – “his actions were akin to a knife reopening the wound left by David’s betrayal.”

With each new partner, Emme learns something about herself. When one of her paramours wishes to photograph her nude, she says, “Undressing in front of Russell felt like shedding not just clothes, but also the roles I had been trapped in for years. It was as if with each piece of fabric that fell away, I was peeling back layers of the persona I had created alongside David – and identity that had never truly aligned with who I was.”

The newly single-and-ready-to-mingle Emme is eager to shed her partnered persona. “Wife. Mother. These titles clung to me like a suffocating cloak, concealing the essence of the woman I truly was.”

Finding the woman she truly was involved feeling sexy, desired, and often high on orgasm induced oxytocin, serotonin, and dopamine. The transformation was palpable, including by her children, one of whom remarked that she seemed “80% nicer” than she was when with her husband.

But the path to putting her past behind her wasn’t as easy as she was. It involved some bad dates, some duds, some “blue labia,” and sometimes simply the blues. Emme is not only a complex and likable narrator, she, unlike Elizabeth Gilbert, is concerned about others. She is put off by men who are self-absorbed, self-centered, and worst of all, sexually selfish. She connects with others who, like herself, are able to give-and-take in both conversation and bed.

Realizing that some men just didn’t feel it necessary to reciprocate pleasure, or were too lazy to do so, she begins carrying a “pocket rocket” with her on dates. Her breaking the fourth wall narration is endearing, as when she explains, “I get it – this might sound illogical. Hear me out on this one. If I wanted to make sure I had an orgasm on every date – and I wanted to have one with a man – if he couldn’t handle that, I could speed things along with a vibe. If I always had a vibrating friend on hand when I ended up in bed with these guys, I would always be guaranteed an orgasm.”

She’s also very funny when she tosses caution to the wind and upgrades to carrying with her a very large, bulky, and heavy Hitachi Magic Wand in a backpack when she goes on dates. Can’t say I blame her. It gets the job done in a jiffy! And it can double as a serious weapon in a pinch!

In addition to most of Emme’s epiphanies occurring in various bedrooms around L.A., rather than having to travel to distant lands, as Gilbert did, Emme also stands leagues apart from Gilbert in her care of and for others, particularly her children. And, in a way that characterizes Emme’s humanity and humility in ways easily distinguished from Gilbert, Emme is not beyond self-reproach and self-doubt. As she muses:

I feared their [bad] behavior was actually my fault. It was my fault for letting them eat donuts so close to dinner. It was my fault that I buckled to their donut demands in the first place. It was my fault that I was in love with Zachary. It was my fault that he was gone.

And it was my fault that David and I couldn’t make our marriage work. It was my fault he cheated on me. I had withheld sex, so he found other covert lovers. His cheating was totally understandable. I was to blame.

And now my new lover had dumped me because I wouldn’t show my face in a ‘Casual Encounters’ ad.

I was to blame for everything.

No, this is not sexy. This is not MPDG material. This is not fuck-girl fun. But it is real. And deep. And it shows the fear we all feel at one time or another.

At one point, Emme describes the blissful pain of her pussy after a night of little sleep and lots of big dick pile driving with a guy named Bryce. She compares the bush beating discomfort to the euphoric feeling of being sore the day after a good workout. No pain, no gain. The same could be said for Emme’s overall experience as recalled in this memoir. She gained wisdom, but it came with pain. And she came, again, and again, and again.

As Emme Witt-Eden’s online moniker, “mysterious witt,” suggests, she’s a woman of mystery and wit, but also of indomitable spirit and juicy womanly bits. My only regret of this memoir is where it ends. But, it gives me hope that we can expect a sequel describing how this mid-forties f-girl and MILF gets herself into being a dominatrix. Emme, your readers want more! I hope you won’t leave us longing for a second like some of your lovers left you titillated but not satiated. Perhaps the name of her next memoir will be Fuck, Eat, Pray, Love!

A little cross-endorsement from Emme Witt-Eden