Tag Archives: dildo
Protected: Frankie Gets Fucked
Protected: Later That Night
Happy Families
1
The next morning, over coffee, while I was cooking up some eggs, Lo asked me completely out of nowhere, “You know what Meri told me when I asked her why the hell she is still with Scott, who has no penis to speak of?”
“No, Darling,” I said, “what?”
“Meri told me that she’s with him because, ‘He calls me: Daddy’s fat little babygirl.’ Can you believe that?”
“What’s not to believe?”
“What’s not to believe?!”
I flipped the eggs, looked at her, and raised my eyebrows in curiosity.
“I mean, well, she’s not fat.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“He’s fat if anyone’s fat.”
“Again, maybe he just likes to think of her that way.”
“She may have put on a few pounds after pumping out three boys, but she’s not fat. She’s a sexy MILF. Sexy… MILF… Meri,” she said, gazing off, looking over the brim of her coffee mug.
“You still here or have you gone back down your rabbit hole?”
“And you know what else?”
“No, Darling, what?”
“When I told her about how none of the boys shut the bedroom door while they each had at me –”
“Toast?”
She nodded her head ‘yes,’ as if yesterday’s full day of fucking had famished her.
“She told me that Scott never shuts the bedroom door.”
I carefully put the two eggs and toast in front of her. I did the same for myself before getting up to grab two glasses and the O.J.
She licked her lips and dug right in, tasting it briefly before continuing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting across from her, taking a bite of my breakfast. “He never shuts the bedroom door.”
“Never, since the kids were small. They just fuck there. Doesn’t matter who sees, who’s there, who knows. She says that he believes it shows their love for each other, so why hide it.”
“I take it you disagree.”
“Yes, I disagree.”
“So fucking doesn’t demonstrate love?”
“You know what I mean. Certain things are not meant for children to see. Aren’t you shocked at all?”
She was nearly done with her food already.
“Lo, honestly, nothing about Meri really shocks me.”
“What does that mean?”
I finished up my toast, took the last sip of my juice, and got up to collect the plates and glasses.
“You can’t just say something like that and leave it there,” she insisted. “What do you mean by that?”
“Different families have different internal cultures and norms,” I said, philosophically.
“This is not a study in cross-cultural family units,” she objected. “This is your typical suburban middle-class all-American family.”
“Typical families are all alike – each has its own hidden little secret,” I said, poorly paraphrasing Tolstoy.
“Don’t you mean, ‘Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’?” she asked. I love Lo because she’s one of the only humans on the planet with whom I can allude to literary lines and not only be understood, but be corrected.
“Show me a happy family and I will show you a family with a secret.”
“But that’s just it,” she retorted emotionally, “it’s like this family doesn’t have any secrets. They leave it all out there.”
“Is that so?” I asked snidely. “Then why have you and Meri been afraid that the cops or social services might rap on the door at any moment since you got back from your camping trip? If Meri leaves it all out there, then why is she living in fear?”
“That’s different. I mean, within the family, they all just live and let live.”
“More like fuck and let fuck.”
“Either way.”
“So?”
“I just find it interesting. Well, strange.”
“You said you don’t think it should be like that.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“And clearly Meri doesn’t either.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Because she asked to use the brothers (or let the brothers use her) so that she could get her kicks outside of the family.”
“Or maybe she just needed bigger kicks,” remarked Lo, alluding to the genetic trait that Meri’s husband shared with his three sons – the trait that left Lo so unfulfilled.
Lo looked into her empty coffee mug and back up at me sadly.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“What’s warm, wet, and makes you horny?”
Warm, Wet, and Stimulating
“Is this a riddle?”
She showed me her empty cup.
“Oh,” I said, comprehending. “You need me to fill you up.”
I poured more coffee in and she looked up at me seductively and said, “Just add cream.”
“Well,” I said to her, “I need something warm, wet, and stimulating to get up.”
“Here I am, Daddy,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“I was speaking about coffee, but really?” I asked because I thought she had been too well-worn to fuck.
“Well, I’m functional enough to give you a handjob.”
We finished our coffee and then walked to the bedroom where she reached down between my legs to assess the situation. She felt me and then reached down between her legs. I heard her smack her pussy a few times and then rub it. A little factoid about Lola – she never uses lube and certainly never spits in order to lubricate me or herself. She is almost always so naturally irrigated that she can always use her own secretions to get things slipping and sliding. She began stroking me. Despite the fact that she had showered and changed the bedding, I could still detect a whiff of the cum from eight people on her and in the room.
As she was distractedly stimulating me, she got a text. I heard her chuckle.
“What?” I asked.
She showed me a photo of her, naked, looking disheveled on the bed.
I want my family to see how I fucked you, slut
“After Meri had licked me clean, and was getting dressed, she said to me, ‘Did you like how I fucked you, Lola? Let me get a photo of you for my husband and my sons. They’ll want to see just how wrecked I left you, slut.’ She can be cruel sometimes.”
I looked at the photo and pictured all that happening as Lo coaxed me, “Cum. Please cum. That’s it, in my hand. Feel better, Daddy?”
Sweet Service
I had deposited a warm load in her palm. She licked it like a kitten cleaning her paws. I began to nod off as the waves of well-being washed over my weak body.
“Oh no,” said Lo, “No sleep for you! You promised you’d clean up all your books today!”
“I need a mancave to hibernate in,” I said groggily. “I’m just going rest for a little bit.”
“And I need a womancave!”
“Luckily, you have one.”
“And you’re not welcome in it until you clean up the books.”
I fell asleep.
When I woke up, Lo was going at both her womancaves with the plungers – blue in bum, pink in pussy.
Blue for Bum, Pink for Pussy
She was looking at her phone.
“DP? Really?” I asked.
“Oh, Daddy. You know I love double-penetration. And if you’re not going to give it to me, well, I have to get it somehow.”
“What brought this on? I thought you were too sore even for me.”
“It’s call desire.”
I was confused.
Once she noticed that I was watching her, she came and came hard, yelling out to me (and all the neighbors within earshot) that she was cumming in her ass and her cunt.
“I call it, ‘Desire'”
When she was done, I asked, “Desire?”
“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, “Scott and Meri each texted me separately that they want me.”
“And that’s what made you horny enough to ride dueling dildos?”
“Being desired is my aphrodisiac.”
Polyglot
Markus Apegren painting
“That’s one thick slick dick!” she said.
“Lo, I’m in my pajamas and I’m not even hard,” I replied.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, not picking up on my sarcasm. “Look,” she said, holding her phone to my face so I could see the surprisingly serpentine appendage which had provoked her initial comment.
“An admirer?” I half stated, half asked.
“This whole COVID quarantine thing has been crappy, but it has also produced some unexpected yet pleasant surprises. I’ve never felt so connected to my fanbase as I do now.”
a hung fan
“Not connected enough, it seems,” I added, under my breath.
“Well, it’s true that I’ve been getting off to them, but the relationship is reciprocal. I’ve heard from guys, wives, husbands, single girls, older folks who live alone, even one coed who had to move back from college to live with her parents and was so horny that hearing her parents going at it in their bedroom turned her on.”
“Luckily she had you to turn to,” I said.
I don’t think she heard me. She was indulging her natural need for self-copulation under the sheets.
“And don’t forget your sister,” I added.
She came.
“Is that the whole shebang?” I asked, wondering if she had any desire left for me. You know, her ole man lying there next to her, in the flesh, ready, willing and able to gratify her every lustful whim.
“That’s the hole shebangs,” she quipped, slapping her puss. I could hear how very wet she was.
“The hole who bangs?”
“Anyone and everyone.”
“How about this one?!” I asked, thumb pointing to my chest.
“You want me, Daddy?”
“How did you guess?”
“Then have me,” she said, holding her phone in one hand, spreading her legs as she lay missionary position on the bed, allowing me to enter her.
“Are you seriously texting while I fuck you?” I asked when she raised her other hand to the phone and was going at it with her thumbs.
“Does it bother you?”
“I’d like maybe ten percent of your attention.”
“You have one hundred percent of my pussy. Go to town.”
I didn’t stop going to Lola Down town, but I was frustrated.
“Who the hell are you writing to?”
“I have a following to satisfy, you know.”
“When you look behind you to see your following, I’m the first in line!”
She didn’t respond. She was engrossed in her text exchange.
“Are you at least sexting? – telling someone about how amazing I am in bed?”
“Yeah,” she said, unconvincingly.
“Tell the truth, Lo.”
“Well, I was actually telling a couple how sexy they are when they mutually get off to my pics.”
In my head I heard the lyrics, “Cause if you like the way you look that much, oh, baby, you should go love yourself.” But loving herself (or fucking herself) was exactly what she had been doing next to me for the past hour or so. I wanted her to respond to me.
“How about you tell me something?” I requested, not politely.
Again, she didn’t hear me. She was texting.
I pulled out.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as if I had just splashed ice water on her.
“I’m stopping.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re not into it.”
“I was into it. I was into you being in me.”
“I’m a whole person, not just a penis.”
“And I’m a hole for your penis. Put it in me.”
“Put down the phone.”
I was on my knees, looking down at her as her legs were spread with her knees on each side of me. She could see my cock dripping with her juices.
“Please, Daddy,” she whined. “Please fuck me.”
“Not until you put down the phone.”
“But it enhances the experience for me. Come on,” she said, reaching down between my legs and fondling my testicles, feeling how soaked they were. “You know you want it. I can feel how full you are. Just use me. Fill me up. Fuck me. Get your rocks off. Cum inside me.”
I couldn’t resist her voice, though I knew I should. I entered her again.
“That’s it, Daddy. Use your little girl. Drill that dirty whore.” She was saying the words as if reading a script. Her eyes were glued to her phone screen. She was typing again with her thumbs. “Yeah, Daddy. That’s it. Feels good, right?”
Speaking words to me, typing different words to some virtual lover. She was a polyglot.
I finally let myself go. I didn’t care anymore. I released my full load deep inside her. She held me for one second with one hand, pressing it to my back, and then was back at it – typing away.
I pulled out with a sploosh and she rolled onto her tum, her legs dangling in the air, her feet touching at the toes, her pussy dribbling my ejaculate out slowly.
She pulled her right hand away from the phone just long enough to rub it between her legs and then lick some of the cum off her fingers.
“I love you, Lo,” I said as I rolled over to go to sleep.
“You too, Daddio.”
Lola pumps
Swing
[The following story, which took place a few years ago, was published in the March edition of ENM Magazine – Ethical Non-Monogamy. Unfortunately, despite heroic efforts by its publisher, this month is the last month of its short existence.]
Lo’s Green Dress from ENM spread
Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago, where the river runs green and the jazz of a bygone era still swings. Lo and I had gone there for Lily and Jim’s wedding. It was an extravagant affair. All the quaint rituals and odd practices of the public betrothal symbolizing holy monotony. I mean monogamy. I mean matrimony. Sorry, I struggle to find the right words sometimes. All the focus on the bride as an unblemished princess performing for her solid, stoic king. There’s just something about it that provokes the puckish prankster in me. Especially when I know that the beautiful bride in her pure white gown has a devilish desire for exceptionally large cock and that her groom comes up short.
But Jim is a good friend of mine and a sometime paramour of Lo’s, so we took added delight in the carnal knowledge that behind all the nuptial vows, the oaths of fidelity, and the pomp of the ring ceremony, both Lily and Jim hadn’t any plans of restricting their bodies and pleasures only to the one legally bound to them.
So, as all the other guests let out gentle expressions of awe and shed a tear in reflection of this display of love and affection, I grinned a wicked little grin as I sipped my expensive scotch.
Lo saw my mischievous look and rubbed her leg up against mine under the table, indicating that she had some ideas of her own.
We both knew Lily and Jim to be swingers and so, when the formalities were over and the dancefloor opened up for revelry, Lo missed no opportunity to scandalize the evening.
We sat at the table next to the newlywed couple. Rather than the usual choice of two entrées, there was a choice of four and so people were passing bites from their plates around for each other to taste.
“You are so generous!” said one guest to me after I let her have a bite of my food.
“Whenever I experience something amazing, I just want others to share in it,” I replied, rubbing Lo’s arm.
“I’m the opposite,” said the young woman to me. “Whenever I find something amazing, I keep it all to myself.” She also rubbed the arm of her partner.
“You can have him,” I thought.
Meanwhile, Lo was seated next to Lily’s Uncle Collin. He arrived to this event without his wife Suzanne and no one blinked an eye about it. The family was used to their “independent” social schedules. This wedding happened after the shenanigans that had taken place at Collin’s mountain cottage, so Lo was very familiar with ‘Uncle Collin’ and his love of young women and his E.D. issues. The whole night, any stranger would have thought that Lo was Collin’s date for the evening. Given the age difference, they might have thought Lo was his hired companion as his FGE – “Full Girlfriend Experience.”
They danced together – marvelously, I might add – and reminisced, quite loudly at the table, about the days at his cottage. He repeatedly alluded to Lo suntanning nude along side Lily, going to a farm and milking goats, and they laughed about how Lo lost her bikini bottoms while tubing behind his boat on the lake.
As they told these stories, Collin gradually drew the other guests at our table into their intimate stroll down Memory Lane. He is charismatic and a good storyteller, but the whole time I was silently fuming, ready to burst out with, “Yeah, you could read all about it on our blog! With photos!!! I wrote it better than he tells it!!!” But I remained silent and let the senior statesmen have the spotlight that he so craved.
He subtly hinted at, without giving too much detail, the nudity, sex, and other debauchery that took place at the cottage. He was in on the secret we shared with Jim and Lily – that they got married prior to this large ceremony to appease their Catholic families and that, though they lived “in sin” prior to the private wedding, Lily was and continues to be an A.O.L. girl (Anal Only Lifestyle).
After Collin regaled them with his tales of titties and sun, one of the young women at our table, noticing Collin’s wedding ring and Lo’s “hotwife” ring, asked, “So you two are. . . married?” She asked it hesitantly, knowing it was an inappropriate question that was only sparked by the gaping age difference between them. Yet the curious guest was inebriated enough to broach the subject and display her incredulity.
“Oh no,” said Lo, laughing and delighting in the twist of the knife that was about to take place, “I’m not married!”
“Oh, so you’re. . . ?” the woman’s half-formulated question hung in the air awkwardly.
“We’re just friends,” said Lo. “This is my partner, HH,” she added, as she put her delicate hand on mine.
The fact that they weren’t married, but had shared so much together, compounded with the fact that Lo was dating another, yet different, older man who was seated right next to her as she laughed about these sexperiences, seemed to blow the mind of our dinner companion.
“Oh,” she said, feigning comprehension, but displaying complete befuddlement.
The band began to play again and Lo begged me to dance with her.
I demurred, saying, “Dancing is emblematic of our relationship. When we dance, you do whatever you want. For me, though, the goal is to have fun. But all you do is criticize and then, when I stop, you criticize because you always have to have an object of your derision. Without it, you feel a tremendous void. And whatever I do – driving, cooking, dancing, cleaning – I’m your eternal object of derision.”
Lo replied, “Well, when dancing, it’s more fun for both partners if one is not stepping on the other’s toes.”
“That’s only possible if you’re dancing solo.”
“You’re right, dancing is emblematic of our whole relationship.”
As harsh as this banter sounds, it was all said lovingly, tongue-in-cheek.
One of our friends at the table overhead us and said, “You two should write a book chronicling your lovers’ quarrels.”
“That’s a great idea!” I replied “That way I could document my long suffering. I could call it, ‘The History of my Calamities,’ after Abelard.”
“Your calamities,” chided Lo, “you should be so lucky to have an Eloise like me!”
Having fully lost our audience with our theological allusions, Collin remarked, “You two have great erotic tension.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but no erotic release.”
“There’s a difference,” said Lo, “between erotic tension and sexual tension.”
“And what is that?” I asked.
“Erotic tension is in your head. And you have a great release for that – the blog. Sexual tension is between your legs and you have a great release for that.”
“What might that be?”
“My puss.”
“How’s your sexual tension?”
“I never have sexual tension,” said Lo casually, “I only have sexual release.”
“I suppose that’s what it means to be ‘a liberated woman.’”
She got up to dance with Collin some more.
Louis Armstrong’s “Just a Gigolo” was being sung by the crooner and Lo, wearing her green velvet dress in honor of the Irish holiday, looked stunning as she twirled and dipped with Collin.
As they kicked up a storm on the dancefloor, one of the women at our table sat next to me. “Aren’t you jealous,” she whispered in my ear. I couldn’t help but think of her as Iago. Though green was the color of the day, it was not the color I was seeing as I watched my Desdemona dance with her Cassio.
“No,” I replied with a smile.
“Not at all?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Want to get some air?” she asked.
“Sure.”
I followed my femme Iago out onto the balcony of the hotel and, though it was freezing in the windy city, she offered me a few puffs from her vape pen. Not wishing to be rude, I accepted.
Suddenly my Shakespearean companion transformed into a jovial leprechaun and the next thing I knew was Lo, Collin, the sexy pixie elf and I were at The Green Mill, a dancehall throwback to the age of Swing. A big band was playing with a tall, lean black trumpeter in the lead. They were pounding out “Tain’t What You Do” as Lo was passed from partner to partner in the crowd that was jumpin’ and jivin’ to the beat.
In my mind, the spotlight was on Lo and her eyes were on the prize – the trumpeter who seemed to be singing the words especially for her, with a peculiar emphasis on them, changing the meaning from, “Tain’t what you do, it’s how you do it” to “Taint, what you do. It’s how you do it.”
“How you feeling now?” asked the leprechaun.
I felt as if a green wave was carrying my Lo further and further out to sea as I was stranded on the shore watching her recede into the distance.
There, far on the horizon, I saw her up by the stage, talking with the trumpeter who was standing, his crotch eye level with Lo’s face. She was looking up at him, saying something.
The band took a break and Lo disappeared, as did the band leader.
Collin returned to the table and I inquired about her whereabouts.
“It’s Saint Patty’s Day!” he said, “The luck of the Irish. I believe that Lo is getting lucky!” He slapped me on the back and bought me another drink that I didn’t need. “When in the Emerald City, anything can happen with a little magic from the Wizard,” he said, removing a teal handkerchief from his jacket pocket that suddenly turned into Lo’s satin panties. He handed them to me and said, “Improbable, yes. Possible, perhaps. With Lo, all is green go-go and Eternal Return of the Dame.”
When I heard these words, I knew that I was slowly losing my grasp on reality.
The last thing I recall from the evening was a Julie London song, “Hey Daddy,” being played by the band as an instrumental number.
When I woke up, I was in my hotel room in the bed and Lo was rising and descending on a large bottle of champagne.
Celebration Time
Groggily I rubbed my eyes and looked at her to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I then said, “Be careful darling, I wouldn’t want that bottle to break.”
“Not to worry. I’m wide, wet, and willing.”
As she proceeded to hump to her heart’s content, she said, “Will you order some breakfast from room service?”
Always the dutiful daddy, I said, “Sure, what do you want.”
“A bowl of Lucky Charms.”
Lo’s Taint
99 Problems: A Valentine’s Day Tale
[Dear Lovlies, this story was published in the February 2021 issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. If you would like to get your free Match, Cinder & Spark book, send us an email at: downloladown@gmail.com]
“Well, Darling, I guess it’s just you and me: Santa and his little sexy elf,” I said to her as she snuggled up to me under my arm on the couch. She was still wearing her sleek red dress and nothing else. We had the fire going (on the T.V. thanks to Netflix).
Lola’s Good Cheer
“It was a nice day,” she said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.
We both knew it wasn’t like Christmases past. It was COVID Christmas. No kissing friends and strangers under the mistletoe or unwrapping presents with a large crowd looking on to see your reaction to their gift.
We had spent the day delivering goodies to friends and family, driving all around town, making stops from noon until nine at night. Each stop was accompanied by a little chat outside in the brisk air with a shot or two to warm us up. It was good to see familiar faces and bring them gifts, even if we couldn’t hug, kiss, dance, or sit in their comfortable living rooms for some schnapps and grog.
We were determined to make the day as special as we could. Now that we were home (and a little tipsy) I told her she could look under the tree to see what Santa had brought for her.
“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.
“Which gets me more gifts?” she asked as she rummaged under the tree and found the little box I had carefully hidden.
She immediately knew what it was. She opened it extremely carefully. The diamond ring was illuminated by a tiny light that automatically turned on when the ring box was opened. It looked magical in the dimly lit room. The cute case glowed with an aura of heavenly mystique.
“Oh Daddy!” she said, giving me a big kiss. “How did you know?”
She was being very facetious since she had designed the piece of jewelry, ordered it, and tracked its delivery. All I did was pass her my credit card and then wrap it when it arrived.
“Is there anything there for me?” I asked.
“Yes, there is. Wait here and come into the bedroom when I call you.”
A few moments went by before her sing-song voice invited me in.
She was wearing a new red satin negligée. “My Santa suit. Second only to my birthday suit.” She spread her legs to reveal that she also had shaved.
Lola’s present for Daddy
“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.
“You know what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”
“You’ve been hanging around me too long. Leave the puns to dads who like dad jokes.”
“Do you like, Daddy?” she asked as she gently tugged at her pussy lips.
“Very much.”
“You’re not hard to please. You know that?”
“Yes, but when you please me, I am hard.”
“Show me! Let me drink your eggnog.”
“Your ring looks good on your finger,” I remarked as she stroked herself.
“Yes, now maybe you’ll make me a proper hotwife!”
“Oh no, Lo. I can’t make a descent woman out of you. You’ve spent a lifetime cultivating being an indecent woman.”
“True. But you know, either way, I’m happy. Deep, deep inside, I’m happy. And you can be too.”
“Be happy?”
“No, deep, deep inside me.”
She stood up from the bed, bent over, and looked at her exposed rear in the full-length mirror behind her. “It’s weird,” she said, “how horny I get looking at myself naked.”
I have to admit, she had me excited just looking at her like that.
I fumbled to remove my pants as she pouted, “Daddy, I just can’t wait.”
As swiftly as I could, I slid into her impatient peonies petals, already wet with dew.
Within moments she sensed the inevitable and spun around in order to receive her reward.
Though that may have been my climax, it is not the climax of our story.
Drunk on my cum, she looked up at me and asked, “Which part did you like the most: the first ten seconds or the last ten seconds?”
“Hey, I might have been fast, but what or who can give that much pleasure in so short a time?”
“Are you talking about my ability to give pleasure or yours? Never mind. I’ll show you what can give even more pleasure,” she said as she reached under the bed to take out her Hitachi.
Lo gushes for her mechanical lover
As she was on her solo journey to Pleasure Town, I pulled out my laptop and read a few emails written to our shared downloladown account. There were a number of thank you notes from the men, women, and couples who had received our “XXX-mas” gifts – a free Match, Cinder & Spark book or audiobook.
It was nice to hear from our fans that we helped cheer them up in this otherwise dismal time.
After Lo had ‘spouted off’ in the best possible way, she sat up to look over my shoulder. Glancing at the screen, I sensed she was a bit disappointed.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, it’s something Lo. What is it?”
“Just the thought that put me over the edge was that you were looking at photos of me, not reading emails.”
“Well, it’s the next-best-thing. They’re emails about you. Besides, why would I look at photos of you on my computer when you’re lying next to me vibrating your va-jay-jay till the levee breaks?”
“Exactly! And why would you be reading emails when you have this at your disposal?!” she said, slapping her sloppy puss for emphasis.
Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Do you think it was egomaniacal of me to give my own books as a Christmas gift?”
“I think it’s egomaniacal of you to write those books.”
“That wasn’t egomaniacal. That was a gift to humanity.”
“Never have I seen such a self-satisfied narcissist!”
“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”
“Shut up and pass me Glindo,” she said, referring to her glass dildo that was next to me on the nightstand.
Lo and ‘Glindo’
“Why? What are you up to now?” I asked, seeing her with her legs spread wide on the bed, dildo in hand.
“Nothing, but I’m open to doing something.”
“What are you open to doing?”
“You.”
“Now?”
“Well, after I do myself.”
“Again?”
Never one for false modesty, she implored, “Read to me some of the things people are saying about the book.”
“While you jill it?”
“Yeah, it’s a turn-on to know that I get guys hard and women wet.”
“Well, one person called you a slut and said that you do all this just for attention.”
“That is not true,” she said emphatically, “being a slut is its own reward.”
“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”
She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.
Overcome by her perspicuous paramour, Lo lunged forward with a long, lusty moan.
As she recovered from her self-inflicted squirt, I asked her, “Do you think we should do it again for Valentine’s Day?”
“I’m hoping we’ll do it long before then!”
“I mean a free book for fans.”
“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake. “Sure. Maybe we could ask our readers to send in their Valentine’s Day stories and send a free book to the top ten that we publish.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Photos are also welcome,” she added. “Now do me, Daddy. I’ve only had two orgasms tonight and you know I need at least three.”
“Lo, you really are a slut for attention!”
“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.”
Be My Valentine
Sound
[This story, in case you don’t pick up on it, is dedicated to the incomparable, Jupiter Grant. You can find her work here, here, here, here, and here.]
“In physics, sound is a vibration that propagates as an acoustic wave, through a transmission medium such as a gas, liquid or solid. In human physiology and psychology, sound is the reception of such waves and their perception by the brain.”
Lola’s Tum
It had been a wet month. The typical English spring attempted to outdo itself with unrelenting grey skies, showers, and sopping English gardens. Jupiter Grant, or Jupi, as she likes to be called by her friends, had not gone out for weeks. Her groceries had been delivered and her supply of wine was dwindling. It had been months since she had seen her ersatz lover, H. She referred to him only as H and thought of him as “ersatz” because he was a Husband to another woman and had a family in London. Jupi was the proverbial “other woman,” the “mistress,” the “seductress.” At least that’s the way the judging world would see her. The judging world being the monogamous, heteronormative world. Between Jupi, H, and H’s wife, there was an open understanding. Still, that cozy relationship was of no use during the long COVID lockdown.
From Jupi’s point of view, she was the guest always late to the party. She and H had chemistry that they both acknowledged. Not just sexual, but spiritual. They knew they were meant to be together, but their paths had crossed many years too late in life. As a compromise to life’s cruel humor, they connected when and how they could; neither one demanding more of the other or disappointed by the other since they both knew that this was the best arrangement for all parties involved. Yet Jupi was not late to the poly-party. Thank goodness, she thought, that she lived in and was a part of the polyamory zeitgeist.
A Happy Fan
Yet the knowledge that they were two lost souls doing what they could to find joy in a largely painful and sad world provided little relief for Jupi when her deepest needs swelled up to fill her entire being with desire – desire to be held, touched, caressed, kissed, fondled, spanked, sucked, filled, and fucked. At those moments, a quick fap merely whet her ferocious appetite. She needed more. She craved the comfort of H’s strong, firm flesh pressing down on her own soft, welcoming, warm body.
Unrelieved in her needs, she turned to compensatory pleasures and perversions. Much of her sexual energy, she found over the years, could be diverted into creative power. Writing erotica was her main outlet. But lately she discovered a new medium into which she channeled her plentiful reserves of poetic and prurient lust and her craving to perform: her voice. Through a series of happy coincidences, she discovered that not only could she narrate literotica, she could nail it with every ounce of sexy she felt swirling through her sensual spirit and her beautiful body.
Volume I
A manuscript had arrived: Match, Cinder & Spark: Nymphomania and the Single Girl. “Hmmmm,” she thought, “this could be interesting. Or, it could be a colossal waste of time. Thousands of words, hundreds of pages of driveling, second-rate, even third-rate pablum ‘poetry’ for pubescent boys.” She poured a glass of red wine and opened up the document on her computer. She began reading:
“Tell me,” she said, “tell me what I am.”
“You’re a slut.”
“Yes,” she said, encouragingly.
“A whore. A fucking sexmaniac.”
“Go on,” she moaned, biting her lower lip. But I was too occupied with banging her from behind. I needed to catch my breath.
“Tell me,” she demanded, “tell me what I am.”
“A cum-bucket. A little cum-hungry tramp.”
“Yes,” she screamed.
“A sex addict. A nymphomaniac!”
I slapped her ass hard as she screamed with delight. Her wet little snatch secreted her luscious, warm juices all over my hard cock.
After she collapsed into the bed of blankets, I reached around her from behind and whispered in her ear, “Good girl. That’s my good girl.” She purred like a little kitten.
Artistic Tribute Photo
She felt a tingling between her legs. She kept reading, taking small sips of wine as she felt her mouth watering. As she continued, she felt something else getting wet. She tried reading the words aloud, just to hear how they would sound in her voice. Could she do the male lines? It was narrated by Lola Down’s lover, H.H. Was she the right voice for that? Wouldn’t a man’s voice be more appropriate? She tried it out, experimenting with various octaves and tones. Clearly these two characters were American. Should I pronounce “ass” the American way, or as I would pronounce it – “arse”? Technical questions like these kept appearing, but she liked what she read. She liked it a lot. To her surprise, she especially enjoyed embodying the male narrator’s role. Yes, she thought, yes, I’ll take this on.
A week later she was in her tiny makeshift “recording studio” – actually a closet with a light, a microphone, and her computer. It was the most soundproof room of her flat. She was in the middle of recording a story, “NYC,” about Lo and her raconteur’s trip to a strip club in Manhattan:
She slowly eased her way down Lo’s body, pressing her perky breasts and nipples directly in Lo’s face. She took Lo’s hands and encouraged Lo to apply them to her body, caressing the dancer’s ass and legs. As she slithered over Lo, she inconspicuously pulled Lo’s strapless dress down over Lo’s breasts, exposing them so that they could rub up against her own. She then got down between Lo’s legs and gracefully pulled the hem of Lo’s dress up and up, rubbing her soft hands over Lo’s thighs and then sitting on Lo’s lap and rubbing her ass deep into Lo’s crotch. All the while, Lo licked her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth in that sumptuous way that indicates that Lo is hungry.
Jupi found herself breathless. She couldn’t continue with the narration. There in the narrow confines of the darkened closet, she reached down under her skirt and panties and her fingers fondled the fount of her effulgent creativity. She read the lines again and again in her mind and switched roles in her mind from being Lo to being the stripper to being H.H. observing it all. The dance of subjectivity stimulated her mind as much as her digits released her pent-up puissance by penetrating her pulsating pink pussy.
Browsing the Literotica section
Wave after wave of relief and gratitude poured over her as her legs gave out and she slowly crumpled onto the now wet wooden floor of the closet, panting and heaving. She opened the door to let in more air. She desperately needed more air.
Eventually, she was able to finish recording the story. She liked it so much that she wanted to share it, prematurely, with someone. No, not with someone. Not with anyone. With H. She needed to know his opinion of it. Was it any good? Was she any good as a narrator? But there were so many doubts that accompanied her wish. What if he didn’t like it? What if he thought she was weird for even producing it? What if he was turned on by Lola?
Ultimately her desire for validation and attention outweighed her insecurities and she hit “SEND” and immediately wished she could unsend it.
An excruciating day, then two days, then three days went by without a word from H. She couldn’t record another page before hearing back from him. She was in a frenzied state. Why hadn’t he called, texted, emailed, something???
But, just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, there was an unexpected knock at her door.
A visitor? No. Couldn’t be. Probably just a grocery delivery. She hastily put on her robe and furtively opened the door. There he was. H. Unannounced. Unexpected. Un-fuckig-believable! She was ecstatic. Jupi threw the door open wide and let him in. But then she remembered the recording. Was he here to break things off?
“Hi,” she said shyly, her nerves shot.
“Hi.”
“I wish I knew you were coming. I would have. . .”
“I didn’t even know I was coming. But I’ve been. . . I’ve wanted to. . . I just started driving and I found myself here. I’ve been listening to your recording on repeat.”
“And?”
“Your voice is so fucking sexy.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve been hard-up for days.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to. But I wanted to see you and tell you.”
“Way to drive a woman crazy!”
“Who wrote this? Who is this Lola?”
Suddenly Jupi felt nervous again. She felt butterflies in her stomach. “What if?” questions started forming in her mind like they did before. Incessant, annoying, pervasive questions filled with self-doubt and fear. Her anxiety ramping up again. She needed to get grounded.
“Come on in,” she said, taking his coat. “Want a drink?”
She took out the wine and two glasses. She let her robe drop, revealing her bare body just beneath the sheer negligée she was wearing under the robe. It was sexy, but it was also comfy. He looked at her, soaking in her visage. She was a shy hermit full of inner life – sensual, spontaneous, artistic, creative, smart, witty, emotional, and most of all, madly in love with him. Seeing her filled him with passion, just as the sound of her voice speaking those salacious sentences had made him crazed for three days. Her flesh. He wanted it.
She sat down next to him at the small kitchen table and opened her laptop. She clicked on mysexlifewithlola.com and scrolled through the plethora of Lola’s porno pictures.
“Oh. . . oh. . . my,” he said slowly with long pauses in between exclamations. “Um, wow!” Images of Lola naked were replete on the screen. But not just naked – naked with her 12 inch dildo, with her princess plug, with pearls on a string streaming from her ass, with her man, H.H., sucking his cock, filled with his cum, overflowing with the cum of other men, and stretching herself wide with one of the largest replicas of a horse cock H had ever seen!
“Yeah, she’s a handful,” said Jupi, resigned to sharing H’s attention with Lola.
“She reminds me of you,” he said, looking up at her downcast eyes.
“What? Really?”
“Yes, if I had met you ten years ago. I think she’s the spitting image of you.”
“Ten years ago?” Jupi echoed.
“Oh, no. Come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You sure you don’t want some young sexy thing like Lo?”
“No, Jupi, I want you.” He leaned in to kiss her. Her stomach’s butterflies flew in a flutter, suddenly startled by the unexpected availability of his lips and everything else he brought to the table.
“I was just about to record another chapter.”
“Really? Can I listen?”
“I don’t think you’ll hear much. I record it in the closet,” she said.
“Which closet?”
“In the bedroom.”
“Oh. Well, go right ahead. I’ll just be lying on the bed. Maybe I’ll hear something.”
They got up to go to the bedroom. She took the computer and disappeared into the walk-in studio. “Wait here quietly,” she said before shutting the door behind her.
She was just finishing up the story, “Horsing Around.” She read loud enough for H to hear:
I was in jeans and I could feel my cunt getting totally saturated, soaking my panties through and through. I spread my legs and rubbed his cock back and forth until finally he exploded. It was a ginormous shot of cum over my head, but, as his cock slackened, he dripped some remaining cum down into my hair and on my face. I had to unbutton my jeans and pull them and my panties down as I got on my knees. As I sat under his dangling cock, I stroked my pussy till I too came in a giant puddle on the cement floor.
When Jupi was done with the story, she emerged from the closet. She found H lying on his back, his trousers down around his ankles, his massive hard-on clenched in his right fist which stroked up and down from tip-to-base and back again.
“Could you hear?” she asked, astonished.
“MmmmmmGrrrrrrrrrAaaaaahhhhhhh,” was all he could say as his member erupted like a spewing volcano sending its warm lava all over the surrounding countryside and dribbling down its sheer cliffs, covering his hand in goo. “Fuuuuck!”
“Did I do that?” asked Jupi innocently.
“You have the most sexy voice,” he answered.
Though flattered by his visceral standing ovation, Jupi was at least slightly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get any of her man’s patronage that day. Never one to miss an opportunity, she got between his legs and licked up the mess he had made.
“Can I get an advance copy of that audiobook?” he asked.
Jupi smiled, looking up at H from between his legs. “Of course,” she said.
After he left, she sent the audio files to him via email.
A few days later he texted her and said, “Jupi, you have no idea how happy you have made me. I know that we can’t see each other, but I’ve been listening to your recording in the car every chance I get. It’s incredible.”
“Glad you like it.”
“I’ve even started listening to it in bed. I told my wife that it’s just a guided meditation to help me sleep, but, in fact, it has the opposite effect. After she falls asleep, I pull out my cock and stroke to your voice.”
A week later he was at Jupi’s flat again. This time they had an actual date planned. After a small meal, they went into the bedroom and, lying down on the bed, he asked, “Can we, uh, listen to the audiobook?”
“But I’m right here,” Jupi replied.
“I know, but it turns me on.”
She agreed.
He had another request. “Can I have you doggy style?”
“Yes.”
“And. . .”
“And what?”
“Never mind,” he said as she got on all fours on the bed and he stood next to it, ready to enter her from behind.
“What?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Can I put your laptop here?”
“Really?”
“I mean, I won’t if you. . .”
“No, go ahead.”
He placed the computer on her back, opened it up to Lola’s photos, and, listening to Jupi’s narration, entered her wet and waiting pussy.
Not Jupi, but a fan photo
Lo picked up her head and said, “Stroke it again as I rub my pussy.” Lo leaned back across from Bill in the back seat and spread her legs wide. Her right leg was lying on top of Bill’s knee. She still had her cute little heels on. Bill stroked his cock as he looked on, salivating, at Lo’s spread pussy. With her left hand, Lo spread her pussy lips wide and with her right hand she was fingering her clit and her cunt.
Bill was treated to a feast for the eyes. Lo came and came again to her own digital manipulation. She so love’s to see men jerk off, but the only thing she loves more than that is to see them jerking off to her. This Bill did with enthusiasm and then he started asking Lo, “I bet you want me to cum on your pussy, don’t you, you whore?”
“Oh yeah,” responded Lo in her low, deep, sexy, guttural voice.
“You want me to shoot my load all over that hot pussy, don’t you?” he asked.
“Oh yeah, do it,” she said in response as she continued to spread her legs and finger-fuck her pussy.
He got up from the seat and almost stood over her, frantically yanking at his cock.
“Come on, come on,” Lo encouraged, “cum on my pussy. Come on.” And then finally, in an explosion of cum that fell like rain all over Lo and her dress and her stomach and her pussy, he came and came and came and came some more. Lo was shocked by how much he came on her. She had never been drenched that much by a guy in her life. . . and she loved it.
As they listened to the story, they too came together. . . and loved it.
Lying next to each other, sprawled out on the mess of a bed, the computer screen still displaying Lo’s cum-covered body, H said, “You know, my wife has been listening to the stories as well.”
Lo Bathes in Beauty
“No,” Jupi said incredulously.
“Yes. She found me out. She discovered it wasn’t a ‘guided meditation.’ And so now, whenever she’s in the mood, she puts in her earbuds and listens with her computer open in front of her, while I go at her.”
“I can’t believe it,” said Jupi.
“I’m sorry. Does that upset you? I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“No, I can’t believe that little trollop.”
“Who?”
“You know who: Lola Down. She’ll be getting off all of London before long.”
“No, dear, you’ll be getting them off with your voice.”
Thank you Lola. Thank you Jupiter Grant. Thank you H. Thank you everyone who reads, listens, and gets off to these words dripping with love and lust, jizz and juices. Thank you.
The End
10 Yoga Poses
[We offer here a sneak peek at the article just released in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, September 2020 Issue. Here is ENM’s editor’s introduction to the story:
Hermann Humbert, writer for www.mysexlifewithlola.com and husband to beautiful hotwife Lola Down has been contributing stories about Lola’s exploits with us for months… this one may be the hottest one yet!!! You can read this story in its entirety right now in our September issue of ENM Magazine on Kindle, or we will publish it as a Patreon exclusive later this month.
Illustrations by H.H.]
Ten Yoga Poses
Dear Reader, you may recall that Roy and Gary are the young, twenty-something brothers from across the street with whom Lo has become acquainted back before COVID-19 shuttered us all in. She seems to enjoy toying with them the way one might with two adorable puppies. One day, not long ago, as things began reopening, she amused herself by going on a date with them to do some clothes shopping.
They went to a nearby mall and they followed her as she bounced from store to store trying on skirts, blouses, dresses, and shoes. She would make them wait close to the dressing room to render an opinion for her. Unless it was two thumbs up, or rather, four thumbs up and two cocks up, she didn’t make a purchase. This scratched two itches for Lo: 1) flirting in the flesh and; 2) shopping.
This little tease titillated her and the boys for hours.
She told me all about it, eager to arouse my jealousy, when I got home from work, but she was let down when she realized that I was quite pleased with her excursion because it saved me countless hours of waiting by the dressing room for her to toggle back and forth between her natural impulse to purchase and her attempt to avoid buyer’s remorse.
“I bet you’d like to see me toggling back and forth between Roy’s dick and Gary’s,” she said, latching onto that word which placed the naughty image in her dirty mind.
“If it makes you happy,” I said, appearing aloof and disinterested in her foolish frolics.
She stomped her foot out of frustration and beat her fists on my chest, playfully.
“You will change your tune!” she said.
“My tune? What will be my tune?”
“I Want You.”
“You do? I thought you wanted your two boy-toys.”
“No, silly. I Want You, by the Beatles. That will be your tune.”
“You know, the subtitle to that song is, ‘She’s so Heavy’”
She flipped me the bird and said, “Of course you would know that.”
“But I think you’re just right.”
“So do the boys,” she added. “Finally, a package deal: FOBO.”
“What is ‘FOBO’?”
“Fuck one, blow one.”
“I see. And here I thought you just liked the company while you shopped.”
“I do!” she said enthusiastically. “And I got this,” she said as she pranced around the room like an exotic dancer on stage.
“What?” I asked, befuddled.
“These,” she said, prancing around some more, her hands on her hips.
“Your hips?”
“No, silly. These jeans. They’re $250 jeans, but you’d never guess what I got them for.”
Lola’s New Jeans
“You blew a kiss to the shop clerk.”
“No. Don’t be daft.”
“You blew the shop clerk.”
“If only. But he was clearly not into my type.”
“Slutty?”
“I’m offended.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I meant, horny with a young man on each arm.”
“No. He wasn’t into women at all.”
“I see.”
“Don’t you want to know what I got them for?”
“Who, the two young men?”
“No! The jeans.”
“Oh, right. What did you get them for?”
“It doesn’t matter now. What matters is what I’ll get out of them for.”
“What will you get out of them for?”
“The two brothers. They’re coming over.”
As she said that, there was a knock at the door. I answered it and let in Roy and Gary, not knowing who was who. Once they were in, Lo blurted out, “They say I need some caulk.”
“What?”
“Yeah, a lot of caulk.”
“Really?”
“Yes, to fill all the holes.”
“How’s that?”
“They just stick it in there and out it comes. Voila! There might be some overflow, but we can just wipe that up.”
“Sounds like you know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, I’ve handled caulk before.”
“You have?”
“Oh yeah. Lot’s of times. I’m practically a pro with caulk.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. One hand. Even two!”
During this whole performance, the boys just stood around and looked on dumbly.
“Where’s the bathroom?” one of them asked.
“Right down the hall there,” I said, pointing to it.
“And the caulk?” asked the other.
“I thought you two brought your own,” I said.
“No, silly,” said Lo. She then went into our little tool drawer and pulled it out, along with a caulk gun, a box cutter, a sponge and a bucket.”
“Here you go,” she said to the other brother.
“Oh, caulk!” I said, with enthusiasm. “I thought you were talking about. . . ah, never mind.”
“Yeah, what did you think we were talking about?” asked Lo, as if she hadn’t meant to confuse me all along.
She led the second boy down the hall and showed him the seam where the tub meets the tile and how discolored it had become.
The two boys set to work while Lo went into the adjacent master bedroom and slipped out of her jeans. She wore only her thong and her blouse. They were unaware until she called into the bathroom and offered a cool drink. The boys looked up, dumbfounded.
Lola’s Thong and Blouse
“Uh, sure,” said one of them.
“Two lemonades ok?”
“Fine,” said the other, drawing out the vowel as if talking about Lo and not the lemonade.
Lo turned and went to the kitchen to grab the drinks for the boys.
“Don’t turn up the heat too much,” I said to her.
“Whatever do you mean?” she asked like Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind.
She turned tail and walked away from me. I followed just to see what would happen next.
She went into the bathroom and bent over to the kneeling brothers and handed them the drinks. “Oh, that looks much better!” she said of their job. Truth be told, it was a hack job by two amateurs. That didn’t matter to Lola. That was strictly beside the point. All the more reason to invite a professional contractor in and give him an encore performance of her Emmy Award winning act.
The boys, clearly distraught at the difficulty of the task and the distraction of Lo, wiped the little sweat from their brows and drank the lemonade.
“Maybe now that you fixed that so quickly, you two could help me with something else,” she said. I was very curious what she had in mind, as were our two fix-it men.
Lo crawled across the bed, her ass cheeks seductively contorting like a proud lynx prancing before her prey. She got to the edge, her top half disappeared off the side of the bed, and then reemerged with her Hitachi. She looked over at the captivated cherubs and said, “I don’t know if the motor blew out or what, but I can’t seem to get it to turn on.”
The boys practically fumbled over each other trying to get to her. As they did, she cast me a knowing look. She had just used the masturbatory machine that morning.
One of the boys held it, flipping the switch on and off to no avail as the other inspected the wire. Both of them stood over Lo’s prostrate body on the bed. She smiled up at them.
“Did I overdo it?” she asked. If there was a portmanteau that combined ‘innocently’ with ‘guiltily,’ like the word frenemy, then that would be how she asked that question. And what a frenemy she was to me just then!
One of the boys flipped a switch on the power cord under the bed and the giant white ball began vibrating ferociously in the other’s hand.
“You did it!” squealed Lo.
“Yeah,” said the one who flipped the switch. “You must have tripped the circuit breaker on this,” he said, holding up the power cord and showing Lo the emergency shut off button (that I’m sure Lo purposely shut off for just this reason).
“Oh, I see,” she said. “Thanks!” She spread her legs wide, indicating where the vibrating ball of the Hitachi should go.
The one holding it eventually got the hint. He placed it between her legs, over her thong.
“Yeah,” said Lo lustily.
He let it rest there for a while. Lo rotated her hips to get the vibrations where she wanted them.
“Turn it on hi-power,” she instructed. He obeyed. Lo raised her hips and pulled down her bra. The other brother reached down and began pinching her nipples as Lo cupped her tits with her hands.
“Yeah,” she moaned again, “do that.” Lo slowly unbuttoned her blouse and then removed it to let him see and touch her breasts.
She looked up at the boys and asked, “You two have been under strict quarantine?”
“Yes,” replied one of them.
“No going out? No seeing anyone?” asked Lo.
“Yeah,” said the other, “not for the past two or three months.”
“No girlfriends?”
They both laughed a little. “Even if we had girlfriends, which we don’t, our mom would never let us see them. Not during this pandemic.”
Lo ran her tongue over her teeth as she looked up, her head very close to their bulging cocks. “So, you two haven’t been able to. . .” Before she finished her sentence, she grabbed the Hitachi and manipulated it to flip her switch and, without warning she was convulsing, cursing, and cumming with a wave of wetness flowing over her thong, soaking the bed covers. All the time, I watched in silence from the doorway.
The two guys gawked at Lo’s percolations.
“Is there anything I can do for you?” she said to the two of them when she caught her breath.
Each of them looked over at me standing in the doorway, smirking just a little at Lo’s mode of flirtation.
She slid out of her soaked panties and asked, “Who’s first?” as she spread her legs wide and smacked her pussy.
One of the boys pulled down his pants and pulled out his cock. He was large and very hard.
Lo licked her lips at the sight of it. She turned on her tum.
Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose
- Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose
She rotated horizontal on the bed and got into the anahatasana, or melting heart pose, protruding her ass over the side of the bed prominently, while her arms were stretched out far in front of her head.
The boy whose pants were down – Roy or Gary? – slid in and Lo showed her appreciation with a long low moan. As he was sliding in and out of her, his brother dropped his pants around his ankles. He tapped out his brother and tapped into Lo with enthusiasm. Lo seemed to enjoy the change of length, girth, and rhythm. His brother stood next to him spreading Lo’s ass wide apart for his brother’s easy access.
Without warning, Lo’s body involuntarily squeezed him out – the first physiological sign that she’s about to have a violent squirting orgasm.
“You’re going to have to ride that pony better than that if you want to stay in the saddle,” I jibed, knowing full well how difficult it is to avoid slip-sliding out when her trap squeezes shut.
“Let me try,” said the other brother, thinking he’d have the superior technique. He slid right in after Lo’s sprinkle (which soaked all the clothes on the floor) had subsided.
Bitilasana – Cow Pose
- Bitilasana – Cow Pose
Lo propped her torso up on both arms and her back made a concave curve causing her ass to protrude upward. She used her arms to push backward to meet the boy’s thrusts. Bang, bang, bang he bounced off of her butt. Smack, smack, smack she slid down on his rod, her tits flailing forward and back with the rapid back-and-forth of her torso. I should mention that, unlike in the first position, when she had her head down, facing the bed, now she was looking directly at me as she took the shocks from behind. Our eyes were locked and she was feeding off of how much delight I took in her sexual prowess.
“Fuck me!” she commanded over her shoulder, as if he wasn’t giving it his all already. “Come on, can’t you do better than that?” She was just taunting him now. I knew very well that she wasn’t used to this sort of rough ride. The poor young fellow put so much force into it that I was worried he might pull a muscle in his back.
I saw Lo’s fingers curl up and clutch the bed sheets as if she were hanging on vertically to the bed, trying not to fall. I saw her toes curl and I knew what was about to happen.
Sure enough, she shot contestant #2 right out of her convulsing cunt just as forcefully as she ejected the first one, followed by a torrent of orgasmic flow.
The two brothers watched, amazed at the quantity and velocity of her ejaculation.
Balasana – Child Pose
- Balasana – Child Pose
Lo curled up her knees under her and stretched her arms out far in front of her, tucking her head down between her arms as she caught her breath. The boys were polite enough to give her the time she needed to recuperate. They stood there, flanking her naked body, like silent sentinels at attention, their spears raised.
“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I instructed them, breaking my silence.
“What?”
“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I repeated.
The kid did what I said.
“Now, use that to rub around her asshole.”
“Daddy,” Lo objected. She doesn’t like vulgarity to be used about her body.
“Around her special spot,” I corrected myself.
The kid did as he was told. Lo moaned.
“Slide it in, gently. Not too quickly.”
This kid needed step-by-step diagrams.
Lo moaned again.
“When she feels loose, insert two fingers. She likes that.”
“Loose?” Lo asked, looking up at me from the bed.
“Relatively loose,” I corrected.
Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose
- Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose
Lo extended her arms out in front of her and lifted her ass up in the air for the boys to have it closer to their level. Her knees were still tucked under her torso. One of the brothers was wiggling his finger in her rear. He eventually added a second finger. The other brother held his cock in his hand, gawking awkwardly.
Lo was making small circles with her ass. She moved one hand and slapped her ass cheek hard. She did it again. She looked back over her shoulder, enjoying the view of the brother with his cock in his hand.
Eventually she began to inch backwards, sliding off of the bed.
Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose
- Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose
Standing, Lo bent over at the hip, deeply plunging her torso down toward the floor as the young fella plunged his two fingers deeply in her ass.
“That’s enough,” said Lo. “Fuck my ass.”
Both boys looked bewildered at the bounty of benefits they were getting. The one who had been holding his cock took the lead and slid it right into her accommodating back door.
As he was going at her, Lo put her hands around her ankles and held the pose perfectly. Though I couldn’t see from my vantage point, I imagine that she was looking up at the action from down below.
Eventually the other brother maneuvered onto the bed and sat in front of Lo. Lo pulled up her torso out of the folded pose and placed her mouth on the boy’s rigid cock, sucking and slurping. I was very impressed with the endurance both these youths had.
Malasana – Garland Pose
- Malasana – Garland Pose
Lo was very capable of bringing the brother before her to climax, but she was very careful not to. Instead, she pulled forward, leaving Mr. Backdoor standing firm. She lifted her lips up off of the cock they had covered with wet caresses, and she climbed up on the bed.
“You,” she said. I think she was as confused as to who was Gary and who was Roy as I was. “You, come here,” she commanded like a director on set before a shot. She placed him flat on the bed, his staff protruding upward.
She straddled him, facing him. Her hands grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them wide apart as she slowly lowered herself down on his eager erection, penetrating deep into her pussy. She remained on her feet over him.
“You,” she instructed to the other brother, Mr. Backdoor. “Get behind me and back in my ass,” she said, still spreading her ass cheeks apart.
He responded rapidly, hopping on the bed and, on his knees, sliding up and in her awaiting hole.
Now she had both brothers inside her. She extended her hands in front of her to keep her balance and their pistons alternated in-and-out of her like a two-cylinder engine. She moved her right hand down to her clit and began circling her bean. Knowing Lola as I do, I knew that this move always preceded —————-
There it is! Like a whale spout going off, her high pressure pussy precipitated all over the boy beneath her accompanied by her tirade of Tourette’s-like string of profanities. I think she actually scared both boys.
Ustrasana – Camel Pose
- Ustrasana – Camel Pose
The boy behind her slipped out of her ass as Lo was drenching his brother caught between her legs. Lo, thinking he was on the cusp of cumming himself, turned around rapidly and enveloped his cock with her mouth, taking it deep into her throat. She could feel how powerfully the pressure was building. At precisely the right moment, she pulled off his cock, drooped her head back, and grabbed onto her ankles with her hands, displaying her chest prominently for the young man to douse with his abundant display of gratification.
Covered in one brother’s cum, the second brother still lying between her spread legs, Lo leaned forward to lick clean any remnants of the first brother’s ejaculate. But then she devoted her full attention to the second brother.
Lo turned over, and lay on the boy’s sculpted torso, slathering him in the cum that was on her breasts. She kissed the brother on the lips, open mouth, and slid, kissing her way down his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, and right down to his rock-solid passion pillar.
When her mouth had alighted on the object of her desire, she turned to the other brother and said, “Hold it for me.”
“What?” he asked in disbelief.
“Hold his cock for me.”
Having been the beneficiary of Lo’s abundant generosity, he obliged. He reached out with his right hand and held his brother’s phallus firmly for Lo to lavish attention on it with her labia.
Marjaryasana – Cat Pose
- Marjaryasana – Cat Pose
Lo was on her knees, supporting herself with her arms, drooping her head down and lightly licking the tip of the youth’s cock as his brother controlled the large limb with his right hand, circling it around Lo’s lips and slapping it on her cheek, just the way she likes.
Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose
- Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose
Lo said, “Get up.” The boy who’s tip she was teasing, looked momentarily stunned. A questioning look appeared in his eyes. But, by now he should have known better than to question Lo. He sat up. “All the way,” said Lo.
He got up. Lo took his place, lying flat on her back. She spread her legs wide, lifting them in the air, and grabbing her toes with her hands. Her pussy, drenched and glistening, clean shaven, and pink, was spread wide.
“Stand there,” she said, indicating right in front of her, between her legs.
The youth was on his knees, his cock raring to plunge into Lo’s gorgeous glazed open pussy.
“You like what you see?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you ready to cum?”
“No.”
“Good. Fuck me, then,” she said.
He got up and into her. Her arms and legs enveloped his body. Her face turned toward me. “Daddy,” she said as she received rapid thrusts from the youth.
“Yes,” I responded.
“I’m thirsty.”
I disappeared to the kitchen where I got Lo a large glass of ice water. I returned with it. The boy was pounding her, oblivious of my movements. Lo reached out with her left hand and took the water from me. Her forehead was sweating. Her hair matted down in front. She gulped the water as the boy continued his enthusiastic jousts at her cunt. I could tell that by this point, she wasn’t even feeling him, she was so wet and wide.
After she returned the water to me, she pushed the boy back, interrupting his irreverent attempts to cum inside her.
“Are you about to cum now?” Lo asked as he sat on his haunches in front of her, between her legs.
“I’m close,” he said.
“Grab it,” she instructed, but not to him, to his brother.
He took his brother’s hard cock in his hand.
“Jack him off. I want him to cum right here,” said Lo, slapping her pussy.
The two went at it, cock-in-hand, as Lo spread her lower lips with her fingers and slid a few deep inside.
“You like seeing me fuck myself?” she asked.
The boys couldn’t answer. They were mesmerized.
“You like how much of a slut I am? You like that I fucked you both right here in front of my man? You like my pussy? You like my ass?” she asked as she began fingering her special spot for them.
Suddenly, without any warning, the youth ejaculated with more force, volume, and velocity than I had ever seen. He covered Lo from head to pussy in his cum as his brother encouraged the multiple eruptions of his quaking cock.
“That’s it,” said Lo. “That’s it. Cum. Good boy. Cum all over me. Yeah.”
Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose
- Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose
When the brother finally completed his composition on Lo’s canvas, he smiled, obviously very pleased with himself. Lo smiled too and she bent her knees and curled her back a bit, pulling at her toes with her hands.
“Daddy,” she said.
“Yes Lo?”
“May I have my glass dildo please?”
I opened the night table drawer and pulled out “Glindo,” her glass dildo, and handed it to her.
She inserted it slowly in her wet pussy.
“Um,” said one of the boys, “we had better get going.”
“OK,” said Lo as she masturbated.
“This was fun,” said the other boy.
Lo was moaning at this point.
The boys were putting on their soaking wet clothes.
“Just tell your mom that you washed our car,” I said.
“Right,” said one of the boys.
“Bye Lo,” said the other one.
“Bye,” said his brother. “And thanks!”
Lo was too self-absorbed to respond.
Medicinal Masturbation
“Are you going to sleep, Daddio?” she asked, rubbing my flaccid member under the sheets.
“Guurerumph,” I inarticulately mumble.
“But what about me?”
“Sleep.”
She continued gently stroking my rod up and down with just her fingertips, ever-so-lightly. I could feel my cock growing. Her curious fingers moved lower, tickling my testicles.
“You’re so big. So full. Are you sure you want to sleep?”
No response.
After dallying on my scrotum for a while, she explored further down below, gently circling and prodding.
“Oh come on Daddy, I’m feeling randy! What do I have to say? What do I have to do?” she whined.
“Fine,” I said, groggy. “Roll over and spread your legs.”
“But I’m on my period. It’s heavy. It will make a mess.”
“Grrrrrrr,” I grumbled. “Now you’ve got me hard.”
“I didn’t do that.”
“You certainly had a hand in it.”
“Jack it for me.”
“Lo, I’m too tired to jack it.”
“I like seeing you jack it.”
“You like seeing anyone jack it, or jill it, or whatever it.”
“True, but I’m tired of being a boner donor and of just seeing cumtributes. I want the full 4-D experience.”
“Four dicks?”
She laughed, “No, silly. Though that would be nice. Three dimensional, plus the added fourth dimension of the smell, taste, and feel of cum on me when you’re done.”
“Is that what they mean by 4-D?”
“That’s what I mean by it.”
By this point I was up and awake.
“Do you want me, Daddy?” she asked, despite having just told me I can’t have her.
“No,” I said out of frustration.
“Your Truth Stick says otherwise.”
“You can’t handle the truth,” I said.
“The truth is hard.”
“The truth is hard to swallow.”
She leaned over and looked up at me as her mouth descended on my ‘Truth Stick.’
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll jack it.”
“You will?!”
“But only if you let me use Stoya.”
Now it was her turn to grumble.
“Why can’t you just jack it with your right hand like a real man?”
“Because I am a real man with real calluses on my hands. Stoya feels better. . . and she makes you jealous.”
“Fine, I’ll take whatever I can get. My fucking cramps are killing me. You get Stoya all lubed up and I’ll be right back.”
She went into the bathroom and grabbed a heating compress. She put it just above her Delta of Venus.
“OK, I’m ready to watch you now,” she said, her legs spread and her little tampon string dangling from between her pussy lips.
I stood over her, looking at her pussy, fucking Stoya’s.
Strings Attached
“That’s it, Daddio,” she said, encouraging me, her red tongue gliding over her white teeth. She reached over the side of the bed and pulled out her glass dildo, ‘Glindo,’ as we call it, and her Hitachi Magic Wand.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Medicinal masturbation. It will make me feel better.”
She applied the Hitachi to her clit as she inserted the dildo up, next to her tampon.
“Keep going,” she insisted.
Her various objects of sexual self-pleasure were blocking my view. In order to enhance my excitement, she said, “You know what Kaylee told me the other day?”
I kept thrusting into Stoya, but I was listening.
“She said, ‘This guy I hooked up with told me that sometimes when he fucks girls, he pictures other girls in his mind. But, when he is fucking me, he just pictures me.’ And you know what I told her?”
She didn’t really expect me to answer.
“I told her that when guys fuck other girls, they picture me. In fact, they look at my naked photos to get hard for their wives and girlfriends.”
“What did she say to that?” I asked her.
“She called me a dirty slut.”
“Really?”
“She said I’m an attention whore and a nympho.”
“She knows you well.”
She dropped the Hitachi by her side. “Fuck me, Daddy,” she said.
“What?”
“Fuck me.”
“You just told me not to because you’re on your period.”
“Shut up and get in me!”
I wasn’t in a position to argue with her. I slid out of Stoya and into Lola, accompanied by her tampon and the dildo.
“Do you like to share me?”
“Yes.”
“Would you like it if there were two other cocks in me, instead of just this tampon and dildo?”
“Yes,” was all I could say.
“Me too,” she said and I could feel her begin to convulse under me.
It was so snug, yet so wet. I was crushed, but I enjoyed the feeling of finally filling her up.
She could sense my body tensing in anticipation of cumming. “Cum in me, Daddy,” she said. “Fill me more. Cum deep in me. I’m your whore.”
I fulfilled her wish and then slid out. I was still cumming. She dropped her dildo and sat up and sucked everything she could out of me. When she had extracted every last drop, she licked her lips and said, “You know what Joseph Campbell says?”
“That’s an odd thing to ask at this moment. But I’ll bite. What does Joseph Campbell say?”
“The demon you swallow gives you its power.”
“Do you feel powerful?”
“MmmmHmmmm,” she hummed.
She got up out of the bed and headed to the bathroom.
“Where are you going”
“I have to take out the fucking tampon you lodged in my throat!”
When she returned, I asked, “Did you get it?”
“Yes,” she said, “but I just remembered.”
“What’s that?”
“I have my OBGYN appointment first thing tomorrow morning.”
I pulled the covers over me and was quietly drifting off to sleep.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“You know what Benjamin Franklin says?”
“I’ll bite. What does Benjamin Franklin say?”
“Early to bed, early to rise.”
“Well you better rise in the morning,” she said squeezing my cock with her hand, “cause I’m going to want more of this then. It’s the only thing that relieves my cramps.”
“Don’t worry, the doctor will be in tomorrow.”