Queen of the Primal Horde

The first customer?  Or is it patron?  Client?  First cummer.  That’s it.  Anyhow, the first guy on Lo’s Naughty List showed up and gave the special secret knock at the door of the Cum Cube.  Lo let him in.  The door swung open and Lo was bent over in her diaphanous panties when he entered.

“Fuck me,” was all Lo said.  She didn’t want small-talk.  She didn’t want to get to know him.  Something about anonymous cock was really turning her on that morning.  Actually, the idea of anonymous cock had been revving her engines all week in anticipation of this.  She loves, loves, loves watching ‘The Milking Table’ vids to get off, as you probably already know.  The milking table, glory hole, dogging at night – the one thing they all have in common is anonymous cock.

The Milking Table Porn

Her eagerness for a fast, furious, filthy fuck was shared by the now naked man standing behind her bent over body.  He wasted no time and actually ripped off the panties.  They presented little resistance since they were mere gossamer-thin lace.  Lo was taken aback by the violent opening gambit.  She mourned the loss of her panties, but only for a split second.  In a split second more, her legs were split as her paramour entered her without hesitation and, on the first thrust, filled her to the hilt!  She braced herself by putting her arms straight out in front of her up against the wall and met his forward motion with an equal and opposite backward motion.  His firm front slapped up against her round rear and she called out with joy and squealed with delight as he rapidly, repeatedly, and roughly rammed his way to her record-setting climax.  She came, gushing all over his rigid rod.  But, it was only the first of many for her.

Lola in her see through black panties

Within a few moments, as he continued to be a battering ram barraging her bum with rhythmic, repetitive, roiling thrusts, she went into a dissociative fugue state.  This is unlike Lo, since she lives to fuck and fucks to live, she usually is very much in the present moment when penetrated by a long, thick prick.  But in this instance, as she braced herself against the steel wall of the Cum Cube and her lock-in lover ravished her, she free associated the cube with a conjugal cell of a prison.  She had never actually seen or been in one, but after her excursion to the prison to run an errand for me which turned into a peep-show for my incarcerated client, she had been dreaming of being the go-to girl for the boys (and girls) behind bars.

In her fugue state she was transported to a conjugal room on prison grounds.  The man behind her was the biggest, baddest, meanest, inmate of the entire state penitentiary system.  He was covered in tattoos on his bulging muscles.  He worked out every day to the extreme due to sexual frustration and a surplus of testosterone.  In her mind’s fantasy, if he behaved as the wardens wished, he was allowed one conjugal visit a month as a carrot, a bribe if you will, so he wouldn’t beat up or kill other inmates.  They allowed him to have one of Lola’s calendars on the wall with a different photo of her for each month.  This gave him the inspiration to change his behavior and moderate his extreme temper.

Whoah!  Lola felt her actual conjugal guest go right in her rear without so much as giving a warning!  After the initial shock, which sent her head spinning, she eased into it and began to enjoy the anal annihilation.

“Will it Hurt?”

Lo returned to her fantasy of the felon.  In her imaginings, he had a back-story.  He was an extreme survivalist who had lived in the woods.  He had an underground lair and whenever he came across hikers or campers, he abducted the females.  He kept them in his cave like a harem.  He had a large wolf-dog that he let mount the women as they wished.  This went on for years until the FBI finally caught up with him and arrested him.  They put him on trial but none of the women would testify against him.  He was like a cult leader to them.  They adored him and voluntarily lived under his protection – some as young as ten or eleven.  He was to them something between Charles Manson and Tarzan.

Captivating

In her wild imaginings, Lola was one of the abductees, but she rapidly climbed up the ranks to become his favorite concubine, Queen of the Primal Horde.  After he was convicted and sent to prison, he railed against his confinement and pined for Lola.  The guards quickly learned that the promise of her pussy was the only thing that would curb his violence.

All the other inmates were forced by the guards to assemble in the small outdoor cages, topped with razor wire, while Lo was escorted past them in her black leather heels, her nylons, her red pencil skirt, her white, cut-off sweater showing a lot of cleavage, and her large, dark sunglasses.  She also wore an extremely large, floppy sunhat that drooped over her face to give an added sense of mystery about her for the inmates.  They all knew what she was there for and they all lined up to see her when she was done too.  They watched as her now ripped nylons dripped with gobs of warm cum and her hair, which had been beautifully and perfectly quaffed, was now messed as if pulled from behind.  Rather than walking with a stride and sashay, as she had when she arrived, she now walked gingerly, as if she still felt the pain of that enormous cock up her ass.

Lola in her big red floppy hat. Art by Starlight Cassette

Speaking of which, now her real-life rear rammer was alternating between Lo’s primary and secondary pleasure promenades.  (I’ll leave it to you, dear reader, to decide for yourself which is which.)  Lola was squirting every time he came out of her V and went to her A.  By now there was a large puddle in which she stood, her feet spread wide and partially submerged.

In Lo’s vivid visualization, the prison guards hatched a plan to provide them a fun distraction from the monotony.  Seeing how all the inmates cat-called Lo, pressing themselves up against the chain link fence as she passed them by, they arranged to have a boxing match between Lo’s lover and any challenger who thought he could go the distance in the ring with him – no gloves, no protective gear, no rules.  The prize – an hour in the conjugal cage with Lola.

The next month and each month afterwards, instead of just rewarding Lo’s beau with the privilege of Lo’s pussy, they made him defend his title and his conjugal prerogative.  Thus, he would meet Lo in the fornication station black-and-blue, bloodied, sweat pouring down his face, chest, arm pits, as he burned with fever in his triumphant entrance.

This elaborate transposition of Lo’s current circumstances brought Lo to many more orgasms – so many that she felt she couldn’t stand it.  She literally couldn’t stand anymore.  And, pent-up with so many months of loneliness, her anonymous associate came too, engorging the condom he wore for their mutual protection.  Oh, how Lo dearly wished he could have cum inside her – front or back – and made her a Christmas cream-pie.  But on orders of the mayor and Board of Health, that was not to be.

A Hotwife’s Guide to Cuckolding

We interrupt this story of Lola’s Cum Cube to bring you, hot off the presses, a steamy review of Nathalie Bardot’s A Hotwife’s guide to Cuckolding:The Subtle Art of Fucking Whomever You Want

Author and Hotwife Nathalie Bardot

Cover Art: Lola Down

 

A Hotwife’s Guide to Cuckolding – yes, that is a title that I could not pass up and that I knew immediately I had to read.  I had to see for myself if this Nathalie Bardot was speaking from experience or merely selling copy.  I had to find out if she had something to teach me or if I had seen and done it all.  And I’m here to tell you, Nathalie Bardot is the real deal and there’s even a thing or two that even a seasoned slutty hotwife can learn from the pages of her guide.

Hotwife Nathalie Bardot getting off to Match, Cinder & Spark

As she tells us in the prologue, “there are actually people genuinely interested in discussing the cuckolding lifestyle.  However, in this context, people almost exclusively refers to men.”  Her goal with this book is to “describe the cuckolding lifestyle from a female perspective.”  Yes, that is sorely needed.  And if you’re a woman who is even remotely interested in having a thing on the side, then this book is for you.

Nathalie Bardot and all she needs to get off.

I appreciate that she begins with “Definitions” and distinguishes between a cuck and a stag.  The former often takes delight in being humiliated by the sexual promiscuity of the hotwife, the latter not so much.  But, in either case, they both have in common a pleasure that is derived from the hotwife’s “satisfaction and sexual growth.”

Nathalie Bardot and Cuck Hubby Eric with Match, Cinder & Spark

If you read this book, if you have ever engaged in being a hotwife or a cuck, a stag, or even a bull or cuckqueen, there is one formula you should know and that this book repeats out of necessity: Have a solid foundation of love, trust, and excellent communication!

Nathalie Bardot, Hubby, Match, Cinder & Spark

Many men/husbands will find this book useful (if they follow its instructions) because Nathalie is very clear that, though so many men want to see their wives fuck around, not every wife or girlfriend wants to live that lifestyle and Nathalie is explicit that this is about her pleasure, not his.  If a woman derives pleasure from this arrangement, then her man may, as a happy “externality” (as economists put it) also enjoy it, but if she does not derive pleasure from it, then he has no business forcing this upon her.

Nathalie gets warmed up

Nathalie explains that introducing the idea (no matter who is the one to introduce it) should be gentle and exploratory.  She recommends reading erotic novels “on the theme of the wife seeing other men and the husband really enjoying this” together.  Might I suggest here starting with the collection of Match, Cinder & Spark about yours truly?  She also recommends reading blog posts together about a couple in this lifestyle.  Again, perhaps you might want to start with mysexlifewithlola.com.  Just saying.

Nathalie preps for a visit from her bull.

Nathalie has a whole chapter on the “benefits of being a hotwife” which include increased horniness, better sex with your partner, and my favorite – constant butterflies in the stomach, as well as that extramarital, post-coital “glow.”

Nathalie Bardot: “I’m ready for you. Read to me.” Match, Cinder & Spark

Nathalie goes into a lot of important details about the lifestyle, including rules and the importance of following them, cock size and how, though it is not the most important aspect of a man, she does “truly enjoy getting stretched out” (as do I!), and how to find a bull.

Match, Cinder & Spark – it’s THAT GOOD a read

A few other things that Nathalie and I have in common include that she sometimes shows her man her “newly shaved pussy before leaving, telling him I shaved exclusively for him.  Of course, he’s fully aware that I’m being completely ironic.”  And, when she leaves her man behind to go on a date, she is sure to tell him that “he’s not allowed to cum” while she’s out, “no matter what.”  It was nice to see we share these little quirks.

I also appreciated that this is not simply a book to turn you, the reader, on, but to give you practical advice, like the chapter on insuring your personal security.  Everyone thinking about getting into the lifestyle should start with that.

Nathalie Bardot The Toast of The Hotwives

Finally, this book is not simply a steamy read that allows a glimpse into the mind of a sexy, experienced, and happy hotwife, but it helps you (whatever your role in the triangle you occupy) to navigate these complex and challenging, but fun and fulfilling, encounters with the benefit of advice from someone who has been there before and will cum there again!

You can find more of author Nathalie Bardot on Medium.com

Check out more of Nathalie Bardot’s writings here.

Free Fuck

Cum Cube

The following Monday, a construction crew set up Lo’s Cum Cube right on one of the formerly busiest corners downtown in the heart of the business district.  Lola had them put up a poster in front of the cube advertising its purpose.  The way she (and the mayor) evaded the laws against prostitution and solicitation was they called it “public art” designed for the alleviation of stress and isolation during the lockdown.  A public service, if you will.  Besides, it wasn’t either prostitution or solicitation because no money was transacted.  It was a free fuck.

On the poster there were instructions on how to sign up on-line.  Those who wished to take advantage of the free use girl had to submit their names, a clean bill of health, including a recent COVID test, and a few photos.

These requirements probably deterred a good portion of Lo’s clientele, but there were still enough men willing to take the risk that she had a desirable pool from which to choose.  For the first day, she had selected the top five volunteers.

It was a big day for her.  She dressed the part – nothing but black, semi-transparent lace panties and her knee-high black leather boots under a long, heavy winter coat.

Lola off to the Cum Cube

“Wish me luck,” she said as she stood to kiss me at the door before departing for her public service.

“You don’t need luck,” I said.

“No?”

“No.  You already got it – being born with that beautiful body, that gorgeous face, and that enormous libido!”

“Let’s hope my pussy is enormous enough to handle the cocks I picked out for today.”

“I’m sure that you have a capacious cuntal capacity.”

“Hey!” she said, feigning outrage, “that’s insulting!”

“I mean it in the best possible way.”

“I contain multitudes!” she said with a smirk.

“You will, I’m sure.”

Off she went downtown for her first appointment.

She was not careless.  She had arranged for her new friend, MILF Meri, to be close by at a coffee shop with outdoor seating, heat lamps, and a firepit.  If there was any sign of trouble, Lo would text or call her.  (I will say, parenthetically, that Meri was jealous of Lo’s plan to get some vitamin D during this long, cold, lonely COVID winter.  She even wanted to join her in the Cum Cube as a two-for-one type deal, but Lo was adamant that it was all about her.)

MILF Meri Dressed for Suck-sess.

The Cum Cube

 

Some women happy to show Lola off.

It was late in the pandemic and people were beginning to go stir-crazy.  The government had shut down and locked down just about everything except “essential businesses.”  They kept the liquor stores open because they were considered “essential,” but gradually the government began to realize that sex is essential too.  Some countries in Europe had already had sex drive-thrus for a long time.  The idea of a sex drive-in, or “sex box,” was started in the Netherlands with their popular afwerkplek.  Or maybe it had its roots in the British TV show, “Sex Box,” where couples have sex in a box and then talk about it with the hosts.  Whatever the origins, during the pandemic the idea caught on, especially because it could be practiced relatively safely.

bikini barista

British TV show ‘Sex Box’

Lola, who had been cooped up under extremely challenging conditions (meaning, she couldn’t engage in her regular hotwife activities) read about the sex-work reforms that they were instituting in Europe.  She had already heard about American strip clubs taking the dance stage outside as well as coffee shops that featured so-called “bikini baristas.”  And she had already engaged in some outdoor dogging activities with a few select couples.  But, when she read about the sex-stalls, she got very excited.  She looked into it and collaborated with private finance and public officials and managed to get the city’s first and only experimental “conjugal cube” built and placed downtown in what otherwise would be the heart of the financial district.  However, due to the pandemic, the streets were mostly vacant but for some vagrants and other random characters.

After a couple of weeks of preparation, the cube was ready.  It wasn’t anything special to see on the outside – just an industrial style metal box with a door and ventilation.  But inside was a comfy and cozy little love pad where Lo could engage in relieving all the pent-up pressure to put out that she had while simultaneously providing an outlet for others with similarly pent-up passions to penetrate, pulsate, and please themselves and Lola out in public.

Advertising

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked Lo as she was busy diddling herself to dreamland.

“So sure.”

“You’ll fuck any Tom, Dick, and Harry that comes to your cube?”

“Well, hopefully it won’t be too many hairy dicks, but I want them all to cum in my cube to me.  Yes, I think that’s the perfect name for it too! – the Cum Cube.”

“Is that what you’re thinking about right now?”

I saw that she was looking at some cumtributes she recently received on her phone, which she held before her eyes with her left hand while her right hand was otherwise engaged in the self-pleasuring between her legs.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure you won’t get arrested for this?”

“I have the assurance of the mayor!”

“Wow.  The pandemic has really turned our world topsy-turvy.”

She was no longer listening to me because the full fury of her self-inflicted orgasm had overtaken her cognitive and physical functioning.

Lola’s Cum Cube

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

 

 

 

 

Stiff Competition

Lola didn’t know if she was in trouble, but she was on her way to meet the director of the sperm bank.  She walked down the long hallway, lined with the framed color posters of David Hamilton’s work, and at the end of the hallway she knocked.  “Come in,” she heard a man’s voice say from behind the door.

Art by David Hamilton

Art of making art by David Hamilton

Art by David Hamilton

We shall save for later what transpired behind the director’s closed door after Lola entered it, but for now, let us pick our story up when Lola arrived at the clinic for a third appointment with Terence.

They met in the parking lot, as usual, and Lola was wearing her long white coat, but this time she had a surprise for Terence under it.  Or rather, she had nothing to surprise Terence with under her coat.

Inside the clinic the receptionist again directed them to room #3.  Upon entering, it was Lola who was surprised, for on the walls, in place of the framed posters of Lola’s cream pies, were framed posters of Ellie, the night-shift receptionist who had helped Terence by coaxing his cum out of him (before Lola fulfilled that job) and by reading to him from Match, Cinder & Spark.  Apparently, she found out about the Lola poster substitute and that Terence was “two-timing” her with Lo during the day.  She took liberties and removed Lo’s framed photos, replacing them with her own.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie cumcovered

One poster was a black-and-white of Ellie, nude, spread eagle with cum covering her hairy pussy.  The other was of her on her knees taking one cock in her mouth and two cocks on either side of her as she stroked them off.  You couldn’t see her face in either of those posters, but, just to make sure there was no mistake, there was a framed photo of Ellie in a salmon colored outfit of shorts and an oversized blouse wearing glasses and smiling or almost laughing.

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie knows how to please three guys at once

Lola thought, “It’s on.”

“Whoa!” said Terence upon seeing the framed photos.

Ellen Mowbray

“You know her?”

“Um, yeah.  She’s the one who used to help me out.  She works the evening shift.”

Lola began to walk out of the room.

“Hey!  Where are you going?” asked Terence, confused.

“To request another room.”

“Why?”

“I find it rude.”

“Rude?”

“Desperate.”

“Desperate?”

“Thirsty.”

“Thirsty?”

“Is there an echo in here?  Look, she’s clearly still salty about what happened with Steve.”

“Steve?”

“Her ex-boyfriend.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, you can read all about it on the blog.  She’s just being petty.”

“Maybe she wanted you to see it.  Maybe it’s for your pleasure?”

“You like?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“I do.”

“Fine,” said Lo.  “Pull out your pud.”  She was very matter-of-fact.  No seduction, no sensuality, no affection.

Terence, who had been looking forward to this for days, was eager to comply.

Lo then opened her overcoat to reveal she was wearing absolutely nothing under it!

“Ellie ever help you like this?” she asked.

“No,” he said.

Lo put on the latex gloves, lubricated, reached down between his legs and began stroking him.  She leaned forward so that her breasts were dangling tantalizingly in front of his face.  She exaggerated her hand motion so that her heavy breasts wobbled and banged up against one-another.  He couldn’t take his eyes off her heaving mounds.  Lo slowly slid her hand down below the shaft of his cock to his large balls.  She massaged them and fondled them, gently playing with them with her fingertips.  He clearly liked it.  Lo didn’t speak this time.  She just watched his facial expressions.  Her focus went from his face to his crotch and back again.  And again.

She then surreptitiously slid her index finger down below his balls to his perineum.  She used a feather-light touch on it for a while and then cautiously, furtively slid her index finger further south to his anus.

“Are you a top or a bottom when you’re with men?” she asked.

“Switch,” he said in a tense whisper.

“Stand up,” she commanded.

He got up out of the chair.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He complied.

“Bend over,” she said, “and let’s have a full rectal exam.”

He bent over.  She inserted one, then two, then three fingers of her right hand as her left hand reached around and stroked his cock.  He was looking up at the large poster of Ellie on the wall.  Lola was too.  Lo continued her erotic massage, but it wasn’t long before he said, “The cup!  The cup!”

Lo passed him the specimen cup and stroked him as he held the jar in front of his cock and filled it with more of his donation than he ever had before.  His knees buckled and his entire body went tense and spasmed.  He could hardly stand.  He let out multiple calls of Lola’s name.  Then he collapsed back in the chair, his cock still twitching.

He passed the collection cup to Lo who screwed on the lid tightly.

Lo smiled at him as she stood before his depleted body.  The contrast between her tall, strong, lusty, flush and full body standing naked over his weak and limp body couldn’t have been more pronounced.  She removed her gloves and threw them in the special trash bin for contaminated waste.

After he regained some of his vigor, she said, “Now you stand up and let me have the chair.”

He complied.

Lo sat in the chair, put her feet up on it, spreading her legs, and she began making small circular motions over her clit with her right hand.  He watched her intently.  Her movements increased in speed and intensity until she was now rubbing up-and-down in small, rapid strokes.  This technique got more intense still until she was patting and then slapping her wet pussy.  She progressed to inserting one and then two fingers deep in her pussy.  She fingered herself for about a minute until SPLOOSH!  She squirted straight ahead, sprinkling Terence with her holy water.  It was a long, strong, and voluminous stream that soaked him and his clothes.  He didn’t seem to mind.

Ellen Mowbray

Ellie leaving work after a hard day

Ellie Mowbray

Ellie getting off after a hard day at the masturbatorium

Elln Mowbray

Ellie third from right

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.