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Sexy Hotwife, Pornstar, MILF Sara Anne Reads Match, Cinder & Spark

Sara Anne

Who is this sexy reader, you ask.

This is Sara Anne – hotwife, amateur porn star, MILF, and avid reader of Match, Cinder & Spark.

Wait! Correction! Sara Anne has actually now made the transition to professional porn star!

Sara Anne

This cute country girl, mom of two, hotwife of 17 years, has turned her fun – fucking other men – into a side hustle and now is going pro! She just did her first professional porno shoot and is looking forward to doing more.

She’s also an avid reader, as you might be able to surmise from the library she has. (I know that you’re looking at the books in the photo below.)

Sara Anne Rides

 

She recently reached out to us and kindly requested a promo copy to add to her collection. We were happy to provide it!

Enjoy Sara Anne!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Smalltown Strumpet – Flaming Lips

Smalltown Strumpet – Part III: Flaming Lips

Continued From: The Doctor Will See You Now

The Flaming Lips

Lo was out of commission.  There would be no sexy suntanning in the front yard, no strip club short-short shenanigans, no teasing the townies down Main Street.  She spent much of her time submerged in the clawfoot tub or strutting bottomless around the house, airing out her nettle-enflamed pussy.  She had to sit on pillows and masturbating was now out of the question.  This put her in a very unpleasant mood.

Though I wished to attend to her, I needed to get out of the house, lest I bear the brunt of her frustration with her cunt.

I had been working on an article about bestiality portrayed in art and literature through the centuries and thought I’d mosey down to the local library to continue my studies.

Lo had taken a couple of Tylenol PM and was resting comfortably when I slipped out with my computer and backpack.  I figured I had a couple of hours to myself.

The library was a very small brick building.  There were two rooms and a small anteroom at the entrance that contained the check-out desk, a couple of computers, and a display table for new books.

I set up in a small corner of the library, sitting in a large, square, worn brown leather club chair that looked like it was at least as old as I am.  It was remarkably comfortable and the arms were flat, so they were perfect for resting my books and computer around me conveniently.

I began by looking at a blog from Remittance Girl on “Defending the Indefensible: Bestiality in Erotica.”  It was a great place to start my research.  She had written the article in response to censorship of erotica authors by PayPal – an infringement of speech that this very author had suffered by that very company!  They should call it PrudePal.

In her article she referenced one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, and his defense of Chris Handley, among others who have been prosecuted for the material they read, write, draw, collect, sell, or possess.

This led me down a rabbit hole into a morass of law, liberty, and lurid content.  Thank goodness my chair had its back against the wall because if any local busybody were to see the ‘scholarly studies’ I was researching, there’s no telling what would happen.

Actually, there is a telling what would happen and if you have a moment, I will inform you as to the tempest in a teapot that an oversight by me stirred up in that little hamlet.

I was deep into my investigation of Greek portrayals of bestiality and had about ten different books from the library surrounding my chair when I received a text from Lola.  “Where are you, Daddy?”

I guess I won’t be able to start my deep dive into Hokusai and the Japanese tradition of erotic images.  I packed up my stuff hastily, leaving behind the library books in their sprawling spread of towers on the armchair.

Perhaps another time I will get back to you with my developed thoughts on the matter.

I drove back to the house where we were staying, to find Lo fully naked and fully submerged in the tub.  She looked up at me and said, “I’m wet, and not just because I’m taking a bath.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she said.  “But you left me, Daddy!”  She pouted.

“I’m sorry Lo, but. . .”

“Shut up and get naked.”

“I’m not going for a swim.  There’s only room for one in there.”

“Who said anything about that?” she asked as she put her mouth on the edge of the tub and opened wide.  She looked up at me.  “Insert your cock.  I’ll be your cumdump.”

I did as instructed.  She sucked.  I fucked (her face).  Water splashed around.  She contorted in the tub, eventually getting to a position where her legs were going straight up the wall in a “V” formation, her head was tilted back over the opposite side of the tub, and she was squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples as I fucked her face.  With every thrust into her mouth and down her throat, my heavy ball sack was slapping up against her upside-down face, smacking her squarely in the eyes and on the bridge of her nose.  She liked it.

Lo, cooling down her flaming lips

Somehow the plug came undone and the water drained out of the tub.  Lo moved her hands from her tits to her pussy.  She began smacking it hard and then even harder.  She slapped her pussy like a mother spanking a very naughty child, with force and anger, until she finally squirted all over the wall of the bathroom.  The naughty child crying from the pain, perhaps.  Seeing that, I couldn’t control myself any longer and I came directly into Lo’s esophagus.  She gagged and nearly puked in the tub from the odd position of the climax.

I was dreading another trip to the hospital!

She jumped out of the tub, coughing and sputtering like she had been tossed at sea.  Cum was oozing out of her nostrils and she was struggling to catch her breath.  When she finally did, she said something I didn’t quite catch.

“What?” I asked.

“That was awesome,” she repeated.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“This stinging sensation in my pussy lips really makes for an incredible orgasm.”

“You should sit in poison nettles more often.”

“I think I might be able to have sex now, Daddy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but my pussy is still burning.  Do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Grab a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and meet me in the bedroom.”

I did as she asked, wondering how I was going to get hard again in order to give her what she wanted.

I met her in the bedroom and she was lying on her back.

“Take an ice cube and trace it around my labia,” she said.

I gently applied the cold, slippery, dripping ice to her pussy lips.  She loved it.

“Slip it in.”

I inserted it.

“Another,” she said.

I did the same thing a second time.

“Again,” she said.

And a third time.

This continued until there were more ice cubes in her pussy than in a tall glass of lemonade.

“Now fuck me.”

At this point, the eroticism of what I had been doing had me rigid.  Timidly I inserted the tip of my penis just a bit into her ice-packed pussy.

It felt cold.  Freezing, to be exact.  But not unpleasant.

“Fuck me!”

She likes to go from zero to balls-deep in under a minute.

I slide my rod all the way into her snow cone.  There was a curious mixing of hot and cold and wet, since all the ice cubes were melting pretty rapidly inside her.

We had hardly started to stir her dirty Shirley when she said, “Go get more ice.”

I pulled out, feeling a chill on my thermometer, and got another tray of ice.

I inserted my manhood to her ice bucket and as I fucked her, the friction creating heat and melting her internal coolant, she reached over and took fresh ice cubes and, one-by-one, slipped them into her slit over the shaft of my cock.  The tightness, the alternating hot and cold, the slip-sliding of the cubes inside her pussy, was unlike anything I had ever felt.

“Should I put a few in my ass?” she whispered.

I couldn’t answer and before I knew it, she was spreading her ass cheeks with one hand and putting the cubes in with the other.

“Do you want my ass, Daddy?”

I did.  I did, so bad.

I pulled out and slid my hot and cold compress into her smaller icebox and within mere seconds I melted her heart with the heat of my love.

I pulled out and all the white, watery liquid spilled out of both holes as she stood up to go to the bathroom.  It quickly dribbled down her inner thighs to her feet and puddled on the hardwood floor, leaving a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom.  I suddenly heard a loud rattle.  Her remaining ice cubes slipped out and crackled on the tile floor.

“Whoops!” I heard her call.

When she returned, she got on her knees beside the bed and looked up at me.

“Did you like that Daddy?”

“Very much, Lo,” I said.

She licked my balls and continued up my cock and then took the tip of my flaccid shaft into her mouth.  “Can I be your cock-warmer, Daddy?” she asked before taking the entire length of it in her mouth and resting her head gently on my inner thigh.

[To be continued. . .]

Lo’s cockwarmer

Smalltown Strumpet – A Room with a View

Part I – A Room with a View

Book Cover, Excerpt

How do you like the view?

My friend John has a large house out in the woods.  After fifteen months of COVID lockdown, he and his family were eager to get out and go on a vacation.  He called me up one day and asked if Lo and I would be interested in a house swap.  We’d get to use his country farmhouse and they’d get to stay in the city at our apartment.  Lo was game.  A weeklong vacation in June sounded good to her.  “We’ll have a love-fest,” she said, licking her lips.

“When you say it, it sounds like a sextival.”

“Yes, that does sound better!”  She looked off into the distance.  “Imagine,” she said, “Merry-go-arounds, Ferris wheels, haunted houses – all for sexual variety.”

“Don’t forget the fun we could have with cotton candy.”

“We could do that at home.”

“The only downside to this swap is that John had asked if I would install a couple of windows in their kitchen so they could look out on the front lawn when doing dishes.”

John, though very skilled, knows that I worked as a carpenter in my twenties.  He preferred that I do the window framing because he was concerned his amateurish abilities would lead to leaks and other problems.

“Do I have to help you?” asked Lo.

“No, I don’t think I’ll need help.”

“Well, then it sounds like a great plan to me!”

We arrived Friday night and Lo made an excellent meal with the provisions John had left for us.  As a token of his gratitude, he left a very expensive bottle of Scotch for me.

The next day was sunny and warm.  In fact, that was the forecast for the whole week.  I was glad for it, since it meant I wouldn’t have to worry about the weather while I cut a hole in the wall of the house, framed out the windows, installed them, and then did the finish-work on the outside and inside.

As I was arranging my tools for the job, Lo came downstairs in a skimpy bikini.

“And where are you going?” I asked her.

“To tan.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Right there,” she said, pointing to the front lawn.  The backyard was basically woods.  The front lawn was flat and open, but the house was on a fairly busy street – busy for the country, that is.  Cars were constantly driving by – maybe one or two a minute.

“Lo, are you seriously going to suntan like that?”

“Like what?”

“Wearing that thong bikini.”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because. . . because, uh, your pussy lips.”

“What about my pussy lips?”

“They’re too big for that thong.  They’re hanging out and over, flapping on either side of it.”

String Thong

“So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’?”

“I mean, bikinis are meant to accentuate the positive.”

“And you have positively large, long, and loose pussy lips.”

“I prefer to think of them as limber,” she said, pulling at her labia to show me their elasticity.

“Call them limber, call them lithe, call them labia-lobes, I don’t care what you call them, they are flopping in the wind, exposed.”

“Since when have you become such a prude?”

“Suit yourself.”

“That’s exactly what I’ll do.  And I fully expect to find many suitors at the beach this summer.”

“I’m sure that they will expect to fill you too.”

“The more meat between these thighs the better!”

“Well, need I remind you, this is not the beach.  We’re in a rural town in the sticks and you’ll be flashing your wares on the front lawn.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the village vice squad slapped a fine right on your ass.”

“I bet they’d like to touch this fine ass too!” she said, turning tail and walking out the front door.  I could see the silhouette of her labia in her thigh gap as she strutted away.  I watched as she set up her lounge chair on the lawn, close enough to the road for everyone to get a good look.  She purposefully spread her legs as she adjusted her bikini top.  Cars were slowing down as they drove by, in order to get a closer look.

I watched her for a bit before taking a drill to the wall and cutting a hole right through to the exterior.

“Hey Lo,” I called across the front lawn.

She turned around.

“Come here, I want to show you something.”

She didn’t look pleased that I was interrupting her exhibitionism, I mean relaxation.  She sauntered across the lawn, flaunting her ass in the thong to the throngs of people in the street.  At least in her mind that was what she was doing.  In reality, cars were passing by at their usual rate.

“This better be good,” she said.

“Look,” I said, pointing to the circle I had cut in the wall.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s the bottom left corner of where the window is going to go.  I’ll use the Sawzall to cut out the rectangle, but that’s what I’ve done so far.”

“Are you going to have me praise each and every step of your progress?”

“No, I just thought you’d want to see it because right now it could double as a glory hole.”

“Not for you it couldn’t.  That wall has to be at least eight inches thick.”

Deflated, I said, “You may return to your previous position as lawn ornament.”

I pulled out the Sawzall and recalled how a while back Lo and I looked into converting reciprocating saws into sex machines.  We ultimately passed on the idea because, after a bit of research, we found that a number of women had sustained serious injuries from the DIY project.

I cut through the wall and hung a tarp over it.  That was enough work for one day.

I went to the front porch, opened a cold beer, and watched as Lola played the part of town strumpet for the passersby.

The next day I had to frame the rough cutout I had made.  I measured twice to insure cutting once.

With the three-by-six foot gaping hole in the wall, I had a direct view of my little Lo as she allowed her slightly smaller gaping hole be on display in the front yard.  She wore the same bikini as the day before and today promised to be a repeat performance.

However, word must have spread among the locals, for now there was pedestrian traffic whereas yesterday there was none.  This is a town without sidewalks, mind you.  People – excuse me – men had to go out of their way to stroll casually down the street as if they were on an errand.  No such errand existed because there was nowhere to go.

One of the men, wearing overalls no less, stopped to ask if John was home.

“Nope,” said Lo, looking him up and down over the top of her dark sunglasses.

“His wife home?” asked the gentleman.

“Nope.”

“Anyone home?”

“Just me and my ole man,” said Lo, pointing her thumb in my direction.

At a loss, the overalls observer moseyed his merry way down the street.

A half hour later another voyeur just happened to be passing by.  He was a little more clever than the first one.  He politely asked Lo if she might have a glass of water for him on this brutally warm day.  This had the desired effect of getting Lo up and letting her strut her way across the lawn back to the house to fetch him some water.

He drank it in one swig, all the while looking Lo over from head to toe.

“Thank you,” he said, realizing his reason for standing there was no longer valid.

I swear, Lo should have been collecting admission fees!

You would think not a single man in this town ever saw a sexy woman.

The third day I was all set to lift the window into the frame and secure it.  To my great astonishment, a friendly neighbor came over to offer me some help.  He was in his early twenties and he spoke to Lo, who was again lying out in front, first, asking if I wanted a hand with the window.

She directed him my way.  I said I’d be happy to have another man help me ease it in and hold it there while I leveled it all out before screwing it in good.  I do believe he was eager to do all those things, just not with the window.

He assisted me in the task which took only a quarter of an hour and then he asked if I needed help with anything else.  I told him I was all set.  The rest was just finishing work I could do myself.

He said he’d get going and he walked up to Lo to say goodbye (and take one more good look at her).

She looked at him over her glasses and said, “Like what you see?”

“Yes, yes I do,” he said.

“You hard?”

“No, not right now.”

“Get hard,” she said.

“What?”

“Get hard and jack off.”

“Here?”

“To me.  I like that.”

“Here?” he repeated.

“Where else?” she asked.  “I’m sitting here ain’t I?”

“Yes, but.”

“You can keep it in your pants.  Just let me see the cum stain when you’re done.”

He reached in his pockets with both hands and, watching her lying there, her meaty mound surrounding the thin thong, and he came within a few minutes.

“Good boy,” said Lo.  “Feel better?”

“I can hardly walk, but yeah.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this, ok?  It’s our little secret.”

“Sure.  See you later,” he said as he hobbled away.

I brought her a cold drink once he was out of eyeshot and she looked up at me, accepting it as if she had ordered it from a cabana boy, and said, “Still got it.”

I should tell you, dear reader, that each and every night, after her hours of daytime display, Lo would be hungry for my cock.  Being away from home and her toy chest, she used me to the full extent of my abilities which, as always, was not nearly enough for her.  Those nights, I saw her fuck: a broom handle, a bedpost, and a shampoo bottle.  None of this is new.  I’ve seen it all before, just not in rapid sequence.  The retreat to the country was like a recharge of her sexual energy.

“How about tomorrow we go to town and explore a little?” I asked.  “I’m nearly done with the window.  I can take a day off.”

The next day, instead of Lo donning her microbikini and me sweating away at the carpentry, we put on our rural regalia and ventured out to taste the local flavor.  Apropos of the occasion, Lo was wearing her “Daisy Dukes” and a little flannel shirt.  She tied the bottom front corners of the shirt into a bow in order to display her midriff.  She looked sweet walking down the street in the sunlight.  We hit up the nick-nack stores, the antique shop, the bookstore (of course) and grabbed some lunch followed by ice cream.

She got some long stares from passersby on the sidewalk and in the boutiques.  In the early afternoon, as we were cruising around the countryside just taking it all in, what should we espy on a desolate corner but the local strip club.

It was COVID times, so the establishment had converted a large part of the rear parking lot into a fenced off cabaret.  There was a roughly constructed stage of two-by-fours and plywood, a few small tables and chairs set up for the patrons, and scantily-clad waitresses running drinks from the bar inside to the thirsty men outside.

They were all men, except Lo.  Did they think Lo was a stripper when she walked in with me?  I wouldn’t be surprised if they did.

We sat down at a table and ordered a couple of beers.  We watched the ladies of the hamlet dance and, if I’m being honest, they couldn’t hold a candle to Lo’s flame.  The men were intrigued by the female foreigner in their midst and eyed Lo more than they eyed the day’s entertainment.  Lo knew it too.  She nudged my arm for me to observe the attention she was getting and then nodded in the general direction of the fence where, in handwritten scrawl, a sign was posted that said, “NO MASTURBATING.”

I know the question that was going through Lo’s mind at that moment: Does that apply to women too?

I saw her reach down and undo the button on her shorts, reach her right hand down under them and under her panties (if she was wearing panties), and saw the outline of her small hand rubbing her mons pubis.  It made a bulge in the front of her shorts as her bare legs were spread wide and she watched the women on the stage in various states of undress.  Her head fell back, her mouth opened just a bit.

Lola outside, short-shorts

To Be Continued. . .

Keeping it Hot and Wet

Couples Reading Together Have More Fun

 

We are delighted to share with you the words and photos of a feisty married couple who have been enjoying Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts.

Actually, they go by the screen name of “Feisty Marriedcouple” and that is not false advertising!!!

They first got into the blog and sent us some photos of them getting off to pics on the internet. But then they got the book and sent us some new photos. Not only are they incredibly sexy (individually and together), but they manage to take great shots of themselves while in the act! Such talent!!!

Their first cumtribution

I hope you enjoy what they have shared.

Sometimes, when he’s away, she enjoys the blog alone.

“Hey Lola, we did get a chance to read a couple of stories this afternoon! We enjoyed them very much! We also took some pics while reading. Well, to be honest, we took a lot of pics before reading, then ended up fucking because we were so turned on. THEN we read some stories while she used her wand.”

Sometimes when she’s away he enjoys the blog alone.

“It was actually a lot of fun! And the stories are great! Great stories, beautifully written, and not dragged out for 200 pages. It’s like having Literotica distilled down to the good stuff and having it injected straight into your veins!”

But they enjoy the blog most together!

That’s it, jack off and cum!

What a nice cock. Will she be jealous?

Good boy!

 

I guess he really likes Lo

 

Recommended way for a man to read erotica.

Recommended way for a woman to read erotica (unless she’s being eaten out by another woman)

To be clear, orgasms can be had from the book alone, but why not add other forms of stimulation?

 

Do you want to read with me?

Is the book making you hard or my ass and cunt?

Reading between the lines

This should be required reading in college!

Bedtime reading

Art imitates life and then life imitates art.

Don’t forget to clean up.

A few more from our good friends:

 

 

Lola Loves Dick

Lola’s version

 

 

Lo’s version of the shower pic

 

Ready for Reentry Daddy

Lola’s Gifts

 

The Master

[Continued from Immoral Support.]

Lo’s Casual Connection Clothes

It was a long, tense time of waiting, but ultimately Cam tested negative for pregnancy.  Lo was elated.  Not only did it mean that the lucky winner wouldn’t be from the corrupted batch of sperm, but it also meant another session with Ted.  Unfortunately, that’s not how it turned out.  When the Bat-signal was given, indicating that Cam’s ovulation was at hand, Lo couldn’t make it on the evening when Ted would be there.  As a consolation prize, Lo sent Ted a few sexy pics.  He reciprocated by sending Lo a photo of him in the act of donating, using Lo’s photo as inspiration.  Lo was over the moon with joy and arousal when she saw his pic.

Yet another month passed and the magic potion had not produced the desired effect.

Lo and Ted’s services were required again and this time Lo didn’t disappoint.  She showed up early, wearing one of her most slutty outfits – tight jeans, jackpot top, and leather boots.

A Look at Lo

She walked in like a boss and chatted with Cam and Gina as they awaited Ted’s arrival.  Lo could tell she had their attention and she liked it.  She basks in sexual energy directed at her.  Cam and Gina revealed that Ted had shown them the very explicit photo he had used last time.  Lo feigned indignation, saying, “That was private!  For his eyes only!”  But she added, “Well, I guess that makes it ok for me to show you this,” and she proudly displayed the pornographic photo Ted had sent her.

The women had a good laugh about Ted’s less-than-average sized cock, but they both assured Lo of his skill in bed.  (I know that I have described Ted’s member as “long, hefty meat,” but I was relying on Lo’s description, prior to the visual evidence.)

Ready to Donate

“I wouldn’t know,” said Lo, referring to their praise of his sexual skill.  “I’m here strictly for clinical purposes.  It’s purely Pavlovian.  I elicit a response that produces the desired effect in order to facilitate the procreative process.  It’s quite literally the closest I will ever get to being a biological parent.  But it’s a role I’m used to,” she said enigmatically, referring, of course, to her crucial part in bringing about the very writing you are reading.  She is the active agent in this alchemical magic causing a conception in the mind.

Ted walked in, greeted the trio, and entered the bedroom.  Lo followed.

“Let’s not have any missed opportunities,” said Lo, referring to the trajectory of Ted’s last salvo that had landed so far off target.  “I’ll take matters into my own hands this time.  Drop your pants,” commanded Lo like a doctor in the examination room.

Ted complied and Lo grabbed the plastic cup in one hand and with the other she stroked Ted’s cock.  She did it professionally, detached, again, like a doctor performing a routine exam. He was standing, hunched over.  Lo leaned over slightly and whispered in his ear.

“Feel good?”

“Yes.”

“You like how I tug you?”

“Yes.”

“I have a lot of practice.  A lot.”

Indecipherable groan.

“You’ll tell me when you’re close.”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to cum for me?”

“Yes.”

“Cum for me.  Cum for me.  Cum for me.”

Did Ted know that Lo was reenacting the scene from The Master in which Amy Adams jacked off Phillip Seymour Hoffman?    Need I say, she performed masterfully.

The Master with Amy Adams and Phillip Seymour Hoffman

Cum he did and Lo’s dexterous hands insured that every last drop was collected for its intended use by Cam and Gina.

Immoral Support

Lo Bursting her Blouse

[Continued from Brass in Pocket]

 

“You can’t use lube, moisturizer, not even spit or pussy juice,” warned Cam.  “The fitness of the sperm depends upon it.”

“I understand,” said Lo, clinically neutral in tone.

Ted had seen Lo’s photo and was intrigued.  He consented to have her help in the donation room.

“I might just observe the first time,” said Lo.

We had been invited to Cam and Gina’s house for dinner in order to meet Ted.  It was awkward at first.  But Lo’s seductive stares boosted Ted’s ego, I’m sure.  I don’t think Lo was as attracted to him, per se, as she was attracted to the idea of being a facilitator for a man to ejaculate.  The set-up captivated her more than the stud.

Lo got the call from Cam one afternoon.  “It’s time.”

Off she went to their house the next day.  I stayed home.  I was superfluous to the process.  This was two people trying to conceive, after all, not a spectator sport.

Lo and Ted went into the spare bedroom as Cam and Gina were in the master bedroom.  Lo had worn a button-down white shirt with a collar.  It seemed two sizes too small for her.  Under it she wore a lacey red bra.  She had on a short leather miniskirt with a red lace thong under it.  On her feet were red heels.  Her toenails and fingernails were fire engine red, as were her lips.  She was the picture of crimson seduction.

She sat in a corner chair in the bedroom.  Ted stood over the bed.

“I usually look at some porn on my phone,” he said to Lo.

“Go right ahead,” replied Lo.

“I don’t really need to today,” he said shyly.  “I mean, if you don’t mind me looking at you.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess.  You look great,” he said.

“Pull out your cock,” Lo said, not mincing words.

Ted unzipped and reached into his boxers to pull out his long, hefty meat.

“Take off your pants.  You have to aim that thing and those will just be in the way,” said Lo, indicating the plastic cup on the bed that had a diameter of about three inches.  “Come on, don’t be shy.  This is for Cam and Gina.”

He pulled out his cock.  It was limp.

“Mmmmm,” moaned Lo, encouragingly.  She licked her tongue over her pearly white teeth.

“Do you like cock?”

“You have no idea,” she said.  “Do you like tits?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you like mine?” she asked, boosting her tits with her arms so they burst out of her small bra and blouse.

“They’re hot.”

“Jack it.”

Ted began to stroke his cock.

“What turns you on?” asked Lo.

“Um, I, uh, I don’t know,” he said, his cock getting soft again in his hand.

“Tell me.  I won’t tell anyone.”

“I like dirty talk.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“I like women to say nasty things.”

Lo leaned over in her chair.  She rested her head on her hands and her elbows rested on the bed.  Her mouth was mere inches away from his cock.  She looked up at him.

“Cum for me.  Stroke your long, thick cock and cum for me.”

Ted began stroking.  He inched forward toward Lo’s face.

“That’s it.  Pretend I’m a little whore who wants to swallow your hot jiz.”

She put her tongue out and she could tell he was about to cum.  She held up the receptacle to the tip of his penis and. . .

“Holy shit!” said Lo, her face covered in Ted’s torrent.  “You totally missed!”

“What are we going to do now?” he asked, scared.

Lo used her fingers and swiped as much of the sticky pearlescent goo into the container as she could.

“We can’t do that,” protested Ted.

“Shut up and get me a towel.”

Ted complied.

Handing her the towel, he apologized obsequiously.  “I’m so so sorry.  I don’t know how that happened.  I guess I was excited.  I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok,” laughed Lo.  “I liked it.  Now just play it cool.”

“But,” Ted began to protest.

“It’s ok.  Just give them the collection jar.  I don’t wear makeup.  Only on my eyes and luckily you missed my eyes.”

Lo’s Lips

Brass in Pocket

Continued from ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor

Lola uses her arms

 

“What do you think you’re going to do with this Ted?” I asked Lo as we drove home from Cam and Gina’s.

“I like to imagine what he’s going to do with me,” she responded, looking out the window into the middle distance as the storefronts and pedestrians streamed by on the illuminated street.

“What does that mean?  You heard them, he’s involved with a guy.”

“Meh,” she sounded, dismissively.

“Meh?  What if you get in the room with him and he can’t get it up?”

“He won’t agree to it if he thought that would happen.”

“What if he doesn’t agree to it?”

“You miss every pitch you don’t swing at.”

“Clever, but in this instance, he’s holding the bat.”

“I sure hope he is!”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I’ve been called worse. . . and I like it.”

“This is Cam and Gina’s attempt at getting pregnant, not your opportunity to turn a trick.”

“When a door closes, a window opens.”

“Will you stop with the platitudes.  They’re not even appropriate.”

“Are you jealous, Daddy?” she asked, suddenly realizing that she might be turning me on with her antics.

“No, I’m confused.”

“There’s nothing to be confused about, Daddy.  It’s all very straightforward.”

“Explain.”

“I love to see men jacking off.  You know that.  You don’t do it for me nearly enough.”

“I hardly have the opportunity; you’re on me before I can even stroke it.”

“Nevertheless.  Here is a perfect chance to see a man do it, live, in person.  Not just photos.”

“But it’s a complicated situation.”

We arrived home.  When we were in the bedroom, we continued the conversation.

“I am troubled by your enthusiasm for this ‘helping hand’ business.”

“It’s not a business. . . yet, but who knows.  Maybe I could become a fertility assistant – like a midwife, but instead of aiding in the birth of a baby, I aid in the ejaculatory process.”

“Lo, be serious for a moment.”

“I was,” she said, deadpan.

“Sometimes I think you believe yourself to be God’s gift to men.”

“And on the eighth day, God said, ‘Let there be Lola.’  Eve can be a helpmate.  I’ll be the playmate.”

“After a day of rest, God had a wet dream and Lo and behold!”

“Lo and behold.  I like that.  I’m Lo, you’re Behold.”

I took out my cock and grabbed it for her.

“To have and to hold, ʼtil death do you part,” she said.

“So, if I were Ted, what would you do?”

“The possibilities are endless.  Should I give him my ass, Daddy?”

“You can’t, remember?  The specimen has to be immaculate.”

“I’m insulted!!!  Are you saying my ass isn’t immaculate?”

“No, I was just saying. . .”

“Immaculate conception, right.  I’m just teasing you.  Should I lick him?”

“Off limits.”

“Jerk him off?”

“No lubricants allowed.”

“I could use my feet.”

“That’s ok.”
She broke into song:

 

Gonna use my arms,

Gonna use my legs,

Gonna use my style,

Gonna use my sidestep,

Gonna use my fingers,

Gonna use my, my, my imagination.

 

With each lyric, she pantomimed the part.  She used her arms to boost up her breasts; she got on her back to spread her legs; she licked her lips slowly, seductively, she put her fingers down her panties, and then, she squirted just as I came.

“I see I got your attention.”

“Yes, you did.  Now, if you can just get Ted to do that.”

“Oh, I will, don’t you worry.”

Lola uses her legs

ICI – Home Insemination with a Known Donor

 

Lo & HH

In this brave new world of ours nothing is straight.  Time and space are curved, our DNA is a double helix, and people certainly are kinky!  We have friends who are a married couple: Gina and Cam (shortened from Cammie).  Gina is a lipstick lesbian, a femme.  Or is she?  I ask because Cam, who, when we met her identified as a woman, is now gender neutral and goes by “They, Them, Theirs.”  She cut her long hair and now sports a pixie haircut with a little cow-lick in the front.  She wears flannel often and does her best to flatten the curve of her breast.

To add to the gender complexity, in the past, Cam has revealed to Lo and me privately that Gina “hasn’t sworn off of dick and has left the door open to fucking guys in the future.”  Despite how sunny of a spin Cam put on this revelation, it was expressed with overtones of disappointment or hope that one day she – I mean they – could or would be able to be provide that dick for Gina.  But, like all else in this world, if that situation did come to pass, isn’t it inevitable that Gina would then express a yen for pussy?  None of us can be everything for our partners.

Yet one more twist: Recently Gina and Cam announced their intent to become pregnant.  In order to facilitate this occurrence, they informed us that they will use a “known donor” and that Cam will carry the baby.  How and why they arrived at this decision, we did not ask.  However, the other night they were over our house for dinner and, curious about all things related to sex and sexuality, Lo enthusiastically inquired about the schematics of this process.

“It’s not easy,” said Cam.  “It requires careful monitoring of my cycle, precise observation and recognition of when I’m ovulating.  Then I have to call up Ted, our donor, and see if he can clear his schedule.”

“Clear his schedule?” asked Lo.

“Yeah, for him to, uh, well, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.  Tell me.”

Even though Lo is fluent in all things sex, this process was not one she ever had reason to study.  She also is tenaciously curious.

“Ted has to, see, he’s the donor.  He has to come over, so to speak.  That is, he literally comes over our house to cum.”

“OH!” blurted out Lo, finally connecting the dots.

“Yeah, so, he needs to come over since there’s a small window of time.  He does what he needs to do into a receptacle.  While he’s busy bringing himself to a climax, Gina and I are in the bedroom.  She works at getting me to climax in order to increase our chances at conception.  It’s not scientifically proven that this actually aids in the process, but, what the hell, I enjoy it.  In order to get me cumming as quickly as possible, she usually goes down on me.  Then she sweeps in to collect the precious sample, places it in a fancy turkey baster, and bastes me from the inside.”

“But usually Ted takes more time to cum than Cam does,” added Gina.

I could see Lo’s machinations morphing in her imagination like quicksilver.

“Who is this Ted?”

“Oh, he’s a friend of ours from years back,” said Gina.

“How old is he?”

“About forty-five.”

Forty-five?!  Really?”

“What’s wrong with forty-five?” I asked, feeling a bit defensive and surprised by Lo’s shock.

“Nothing, dear,” she said, conciliatory.  “I just mean, I thought they were going with someone their own age.”

“Why?” asked Cam.  “Sperm is good even through a man’s eighties.  He’s been tested and his sperm count is way high.”

“Oh, I know.  I just thought. . .”

She didn’t say what she just thought.

“He’s a great guy,” said Cam.  Gina smiled broadly in agreement.

“He’s actually the guy who introduced us.”

They went into a detailed backstory about how they met and the integral part Ted played in bringing them together.

“Is he gay or straight?” asked Lo, her gears turning.

Both of them giggled.

“What?” asked Lo defensively.

“Gender fluid,” said Gina.

Of course.  It was a foolish question for Lo, of all people, to ask.  So binary.  Lo, who identifies as “queer,” should have known better.

By the way they giggled, Lo became suspicious.  “Have either of you slept with him?”

More giggling.  Both of them admitted to sleeping with him together.

“Why not skip the middleman, ur, the middle jar, and just have him inseminate you directly?” asked Lo.

“We slept with him years ago, when we were first dating.  We’re married now,” said Cam, looking at Gina.

“And I think I’d get jealous if Cam conceived with him that way,” she admitted honestly.

“Also, he’s been dating a guy for like a year now and we don’t want to mess that up for him,” added Cam.

“Maybe I could help,” mused Lo, as if the idea just popped in her mind.

“How?” they both asked.

“Moral support,” said Lo.

“More like immoral support,” I muttered under my breath, knowing where Lo was going with this.  No one heard me.

“I imagine it’s a bit awkward and maybe even difficult for Ted to cum on command all alone, jerking off into a cup.”

Gina and Cam had inquisitive looks on their faces as Lo explained her idea.

“He could use some help,” was all Lo said.

“Like you’d help him cum?” Gina asked, looking at me for my reaction.

“Where does he do it?”

“There,” said Gina, pointing to their spare bedroom.

“And what’s he got in there to help him out?”

They both shrugged their shoulders.  “Maybe his phone?  We never asked.”

“Oh my God!” said Lo, feigning shock, “Even the sperm banks offer cheap magazines.”

“So what would you do?” asked Gina.

“I’d offer a helping hand,” replied Lo.

Gina and Cam both looked at me.  I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, “Whatever Lo wants, Lo gets.”

“I guess we could ask him,” said Cam.

“Yeah, ask him and see what he says.  Show him this photo of me.”

Lo texted them both one of her sexy images.  They looked at their phones.  It was clear both of them wanted Lo’s helping hands on them, but no one said anything.

Lo’s Audition Photo