Tag Archives: Hand Job
Doppelganger-Banger
1
Illustration of HH and Lo by LittleGem of purplesgem.com
The light was red. The wallpaper was red. The tablecloths were red. And the candles were red. A live jazz trio played at the other end of the bar. We sat in plush, tufted red leather chairs drinking martinis. Lo’s bare knees were exposed, her legs crossed, her short skirt inching its way up her thighs. She looked at Jim with wide eyes as he told us about the plans for their wedding which was only a couple of weeks away. I sat across from Jim and Lo, nursing my drink as they talked animatedly. They were fond of each other. I was enjoying the beauty of the two of them as the liquor transformed the dive bar to a dreamscape.
“I can’t believe that in little more than two weeks, you two will be married!” said Lo, grabbing Jim’s hand as she said it. “Married!” she repeated.
“Are you going to have a bachelor party?” I asked. “A big send-off to say goodbye to your days of freedom?”
“I already had it,” he said.
“What?!” asked Lo, surprised. “When? Tell us!”
Jim told us that the previous week he had gone back to his hometown to spend a long weekend with his college buddies fishing at a remote lake.
“Fishing?” asked Lo, skeptically.
“Yeah,” said Jim.
“No strip clubs?” she asked.
“No,” said Jim.
“Oh, I get it, they came to you at the cottage.”
“No. No strippers. Nothing like that. It wasn’t a weekend in Vegas. It was just friends spending time together. Fishing.”
“Well,” said Lo, “shouldn’t you have a proper last hurrah?” As she said it, she indicated with her tongue what she had in mind.
“Where’s Lily?” I interjected. As much as I enjoyed seeing Lo seduce Jim, I also wanted to give him a moment to think it over. He seemed so much like a deer in the headlights.
“She’s in New York. Actually, for her bachelorette party.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, very matter-of-factly. “What’s she doing for it?”
The trumpet player had just ramped up his virtuosic solo and was now growling with the horn. I looked over at him for a moment. My eyes returned back to Jim. He was in agony. He looked at me. He couldn’t look at Lo. He said, “She’s with her friends.”
“What’s she doing? Having a party with her girlfriends from college?”
“No,” said Jim. “She’s with. . .” he paused, “she’s with her guy friends. She’s having her ‘last hurrah.’ A crazy orgy or slut-fest with every guy she’d slept with when she lived there.”
“You’re kidding!” said Lo, putting her hand on Jim’s hand and laughing.
“No, I’m not!” he said, frustrated, embarrassed, angry.
“Well, good for her,” said Lo. “I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic to you or anything, but fuck! Good for her, you know. Fuck the patriarchy!”
Jim laughed, despite himself.
“But if you didn’t get your slut-fest for your bachelor party, then let’s make it happen tonight,” she said, sliding a little closer to him.
I suppose now is as good a time as any to inform you, dear reader, that none of this was done without Lily’s knowledge. In fact, it was done with her blessing, her planning even. She thought that there was no one better than Lo to help Jim with his self-esteem and jealousy sprouting from their having an open relationship in which only one party had any traffic entering her open door.
Lily thought it best that Jim not know that she was in cahoots with this plan and allow him to enjoy the feeling of seducing Lo, or being seduced by her.
Jim looked to me as if to ask my permission.
“No pressure,” I said, “but I’m fine with it if you are.”
We paid our tab and I drove the two of them back to our place. They sat in the back seat, making out. This was a very familiar scenario for Lo and me by now. I could see her reach down for his cock.
“Lo,” I said as I pulled up to our place, “we’re home.”
I shut off the car. Lo held Jim’s hand and led him in.
“You two have fun,” I said as I fixed myself a whiskey on the rocks.
I listened as best I could, but I didn’t hear anything. I picked up a book and began reading on the couch in the living room. Lo is usually louder than that, I thought.
About twenty minutes later I heard the squeak of the shower knobs being turned. I thought for sure I’d hear the sound of Lo’s voice soon to follow.
Not only did I hear her voice, but I saw her lovely image as she walked into the living room wearing only one of my old t-shirts.
Lola in a T-shirt
“What brings you out here, dear?” I asked, looking up from my book.
She sat close to me and, in a whisper, she said, “He came.” She was disappointed.
“What?”
“Yep. In the car.”
“Oh, Lo,” I said in a tone of sympathy for her loss.
“I hardly even touched him. I just rubbed him maybe once or twice.”
“And that’s it. He’s done for the night?”
“He’s very embarrassed. He’s taking a shower now to clean up. He thanked me, but I think he wants to go home.”
“Hmmm,” I said, taking it all in. “I guess I’ll take him home then.”
“But Daddio,” she said as she reached to unbuckle my belt, “what about me?”
“Lo.”
“I’m the do-gooder here who’s left high and dry.”
“More like all wet.”
Lola Reverse View
She fumbled with my belt buckle. “Please, Daddy. Let me have it.”
“Lo.”
“Please. Just one look.”
“Fine.”
She took out my hard member. She lowered her mouth on it.
“Lo!”
“Just one lick.”
“You said ‘look,’” I rebuked her.
As I did so, she eagerly took me deep in her mouth. She slid her lips off my rod and then straddled me on the couch, riding my cock up and down. “Just one. . .”
She wanted just one something. She was going at it when Jim returned, dressed, from the bedroom. He sat down in the chair across from us. He watched Lo rise and fall and she looked at him seductively. She grabbed her tits and flicked her nipples with her fingers.
She maneuvered me so that I was now sitting behind her and she was reverse cowgirl on me, looking right at Jim with her legs spread. “Come here,” she commanded to him.
He obeyed, walking right up to her, between my spread legs and hers. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to give her a kiss.
I could feel Lo’s pussy clench on my cock and I knew what was coming next.
“You might want to step back a bit,” I said to Jim too late.
Lo was moaning and rubbing her clit as she lifted up off my cock and squirted, soaking Jim’s slacks.
“Jim,” she said, when she regained her senses, “just stay the night.”
“I appreciate the offer. . . and everything,” he said politely, “I really do, but I think I should just get going home.”
“OK,” I said, fumbling to replace my protruding member into my underwear, zip up, and buckle my belt uncomfortably.
Lo had left the room to get some paper towels and was on all fours on the hardwood floor, her ass partially exposed, cleaning up the puddle. She looked up at Jim. “You’re welcome to stay, but if you want to go, HH will drive you.”
“It’s ok, I’ll walk,” he said, “It will be good for me to get some air.”
Lo got up and hugged him, and I said, “See you at the wedding.” I immediately regretted those parting words.
He let himself out and Lo cuddled up next to me on the couch. “Poor Lily,” she said.
“Yeah,” I concurred.
“You don’t know the half of it,” said Lo.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, not only did he cum after only two strokes, but he’s tiny.”
Tiny Dicks Welcome
“You only saw him after he came.”
“Daddy, I’ve seen a lot of cocks in my day. I know a tiny cock when I see one,” she said as she lifted her pinky in the air and said, “Smaller than this.”
“Well, at least they love each other,” I said.
“Love can fill a lot of gaps in a relationship,” said Lo, “but there’s one hole that needs more than just love.”
“What a true romantic you are.”
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Thigh Gap
Because of her trysts with Robert, Lola stopped fucking me for a while. I turned to my right-hand woman: Stoya. But Lola found out. Don’t ask me how. A woman’s sixth sense, I suppose. Lola told me I can have whatever I want, so long as I ask for it. But I’m too proud to ask. I’m used to being asked by her.
I went into the bedroom and I texted to Lo, who was in the living room, “Hello Stoya, It’s just you and me now.”
She texted back, “If you want something, ask for it.”
I responded, “Come here and jack me off.”
She entered the bedroom and said, “I’ll jack you off, on one condition.”
I didn’t say anything or even move.
“Do you hear me?”
“I’m all ears. . . and a dick.”
“After I jack you off, you will write that story about me and Robert.”
“You expect me to write on commission?! I’ve never been more insulted in my life! I’m an artist, a poet, a philosophical. . .”
“A pompous ass and a purveyor of pornographic smut.”
“Now that’s just redundant.”
“No, it would be smut writing even without the pornographic images of me. The pornography just makes it fun to look at as well.”
“Fair enough, but still unfair to my artistic sensibilities.”
“You’re not sensible at all! You’re the furthest from sensible. You’re immersed in your senses. That’s why you’re such a great writer of erotica.”
“Well, now you’re pandering to my vanity.”
“Your vanity is six-fifths of your ego.”
“And?”
“Never mind. Are you going to write the story or what?”
“Of course I’m going to write the story, but not because you’re going to give me a hand-job. I’m going to write for art! Art! Do you hear me?”
“Who’s this fella Art? Have I fucked him?”
“Droll, dear, very droll.”
We both got naked and I placed my cock in a prominent position above her naked body. Her legs were spread and her pussy lips were wet and partially parted.
“Why do you only want me to jack you off when you have your cock poised right between my pussy lips?”
“Because,” I retorted snidely, “if you want something, you have to ask for it.”
She reached between her legs and began slowly stroking me. Then she got an idea. She grabbed Stoya from the nightstand and applied her wetness to Stoya’s pussy. She then bent over the side of the bed and put the entire contraption between her legs; the imitation pussy just below her actual pussy.
“Fuck the pussy you want,” she said.
Just to get her goat, I fucked Stoya.
She turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, I’m fucking Stoya. No kidding,” I said.
I liked being able to see her hole as I filled the insentient being held in place by her thigh gap.
I continued like that, as she grew bored and impatient. As I felt myself leading up to a climax, I pulled out of Stoya and flipped Lo on her back in order that she would feel the heat of my love on every part of her body except between her legs. (Also, cleaning my cum out of Stoya is a pain in the ass.) After mopping up the cum on her face, neck, and tits, she pulled out her Hitachi.
“Are you just going to sit there?” she asked me as she placed the vibrating toy between her legs.
“That’s exactly what I was planning on doing,” I said, “so you can ejaculate on me and we can call it even.”
“As fun as that sounds,” she said, “you have work to do. Go get writing while I get myself off.”
Holding On Comes Easy
[Continued from “Lusting for Infidelity“]
Lola and Imogen had gone to bed together, leaving Robert and me alone in the kitchen. He looked over to me quizzically and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Oh well. May the best man win – and this time it was a woman.”
I looked back at him, smirked, and said, “Join me for a drink?”
He put down the towel with which he was drying the dishes, pulled out two tumblers from the cupboard, got some ice and pulled out a bottle of scotch. He poured a glass for me and one for him. A heavy pour. I looked at the bottle and said to him, “Eighteen-years-old. Old for a whisky, young for a woman.”
He laughed and we went outside by the fire. Not without irony, we both got under the heavy wool blanket and were side-by-side on the outdoor couch, our feet warmed by the flames in front of us. We were cozy next to each other, slowly sipping our drinks, laughing, and chatting as we gazed into the flickering light.
As I have mentioned, dear reader, prior to the whole ménage à trois with Lo, Robert and I were actually good friends and closely collaborating colleagues. But ever since Lo literally and metaphorically came between us, we have grown apart. It was good to share a drink, share a laugh, share a blanket, and share a bed with him without sharing Lo’s body for a change.
We got to talking about philosophy, art, and poetry. In a reflective voice, I said to Robert: “We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.”
“What’s that from?” he asked.
“Rilke’s ‘Requiem.’ One of his most beautiful poems,” I said.
We both pondered the words in silence when, out of the darkness, who should appear but Lo, bare-assed as the day she was born. She was tiptoeing toward us.
“Isn’t this cute,” she said, looking at the two of us, “two penises in a pod.”
“That’s not the expression,” I said.
“Shut up and make room for me,” she said, “it’s freezing out.”
Robert and I each moved to our respective sides and Lo nestled her naked body between the two of us. “What are you two up to?” she asked, suggestively.
“Just reciting poetry,” said Robert.
“Really?!”
“Yes,” I said “And what have you and Imogen been up to?”
“Nothing,” she said with a pout. “She just fell right to sleep. That’s why I’m here now.”
“Because you’re interested in reciting poetry by firelight under the stars?” I asked.
“What a romantic,” said Lo, rubbing my leg under the blanket. “No, because I’m interested in seeing which one of you is going to cum first. My money is on HH since he didn’t cum earlier.”
As she said this, she was reaching down my pants with her right hand and reaching down Robert’s pants with her left, fumbling for our firewood.
“My hands are so cold,” she said. “Warm them up.”
Each of us loosened our belts and undid our pants so she could have an easier time creating friction for her chilly palms. Her tits were exposed to the cool air and her nipples were hard. She turned to Robert first and kissed him for a bit and then she turned to me and entwined her tongue with mine, never letting go of her twin possessions.
Soon both Robert and I were turned toward her, our rods pointing at her as she stroked them masterfully. Robert was fondling her breasts and I was reaching down to her puss. I could feel how wet she was. She could feel how hard I was. I know she felt my cock throbbing in her hand, ready to explode. She held even more tightly. Soon I was ejaculating in rhythmic spurts all over her hips. When I was done, I stood up and let her lick me clean, allowing Robert to see my flaccid manhood in her mouth. Then it was his turn and he covered her in his own icing as she gave him the attention he needed at the moment. He imitated my actions by standing up to allow her lick the very last drops from his cock.
When she was done, she said, “I’m going to take a shower. You two get naked and I’ll meet you in bed.”
Both Robert and I did as we were told and Lo arrived in bed soon thereafter. Robert, who had cum twice that evening, was depleted. I was no better. Lo engaged in a lengthy session of self-service before falling asleep between the two of us.
The Many Moods of Monday Morning
Monday morning. 4 am. Lo wakes me up by fucking herself with her glass dildo and Hitachi Magic Wand. “Must you do that now?” I ask, irritated.
“Well, I wouldn’t have to do it if you’d fuck me at night, but you just went to sleep after getting in bed – like sleep is what the bed is made for!”
“Don’t blame your nymphomania on me. You’re like Buzz Lightyear over there, masturbating to infinity and beyond!”
“Yeah, well, from the looks of things, you’re like Woody over there. What’s that popping up under the covers?”
It’s true, I often wake up with a raging hard-on.
“I had crazy sex dreams all night,” she says, more sweetly.
“Really?” I ask from my own dreamlike state. “Tell me about them.”
She tells me about how she dreamed about sex with a guy from work. “I told him I want him to be with me in the biblical sense.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“What’s not?”
“To ‘be’ together in the biblical sense. The saying is, ‘to know one another in the biblical sense.’”
“Well, I want to be together with him – in an existential sense.”
“Why do you think you were dreaming that?”
“Because you were groping me all night.”
“That’s impossible. I slept like I was hit by a bus.”
“Well, groping while sleeping is one of your natural talents.”
“I have many natural and unnatural talents.”
“What are you going to do with that?” she asks, looking down at my rock-hard shaft.
“I’m going to suffer with it. It’s my half-a-cross to bear.”
“Well, don’t get any ideas, I’m getting up,” she says as she pulls out her dildo and rests it on her nightstand.
“So am I,” I say, removing the covers, looking down at my phallus standing at attention.
A good erection is not to be wasted, I suppose, so instead of getting out of bed, she climbs up on my morning wood and eases herself down onto it.
When I don’t meet her descending motion with a thrust upward, she asks, “What’s the matter?”
“You’re using me,” I respond.
“Only for your body.”
“Oh, well, in that case then it’s ok.”
Within seconds she is gushing all over my hips. She climbs off my body and collapses into the bed, eyes closed.
“Are you sleeping?” I ask, incredulously.
“Shhhhh,” is all she manages to respond as she drifts off back to dreamland leaving me hard-up at 4:10 in the a.m.
There’s no going back to sleep for me and I look at her peaceful face.
“Just jack it like any other guy would,” she mutters.
I get out of bed and do what I always do with my sexual energy – channel it into a good story.
A couple of hours later my phone buzzes. “Come,” she texts from the bedroom.
I follow her command.
As I enter the bedroom, I find her naked, legs spread, fingers caressing between her glistening pussy lips. I sit down gingerly beside her. She looks up at me. Her hair is a mess.
“What time did you come to bed?” she asks.
“When?”
“Whenever you came to bed.”
Not knowing if she was speaking about last night or this morning, I reply, “Just now.”
“Did I give you a handjob?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“Why?” I ask, curious.
“I had a dream that I did.”
Her left hand is already fondling my hard cock over my pj bottoms.
“Take it out,” she commands.
I take it out for her to hold. “Do you want to make your dream come true?” I ask.
She doesn’t bother to answer. She is already stroking it with her left hand and stroking herself with her right. Her eyes are closed as if continuing her dream. Within mere moments she cums again, and falls back to sleep, leaving me hard-up for a second time.
I hop in the shower and then get dressed for work figuring that it’s just not my morning.
A few minutes after I leave the bedroom to have a cup of coffee, Lola walks into the kitchen. I can tell just by her footfall that she’s upset. Without a “hello” or “good morning,” she launches into a tirade.
“I’m so pissed,” she says.
“Why?”
“I just am. My computer sucks, my schedule sucks, everything just sucks.”
“Do you want to go fuck it out?” I ask, hoping that I might finally release the tension between my legs.
“I thought you’d never ask!”
We return to the bedroom to have sex. I slip out of my pants, but leave on my shirt. I’m still horny from not cumming earlier in the morning and I figure this will be quick and fun. But this time, she isn’t reaching orgasm like she did earlier. She takes out her Hitachi and puts it on her clit and it vibrates between our bodies. After only a few minutes she switches it off and stops her motions. “It’s not working. I think I’m broken.”
“What?”
“I’m not cumming. I think I’m broken.”
“Lo, you had at least two or three orgasms already this morning!”
“Orgasms are like football, it doesn’t matter if you won your last ten games, the only game that matters is this one.”
“You don’t even like football.”
“So? It still holds true.”
“You’re just thinking about all you have to do today.”
“Yeah, but I always cum.”
I get up.
“Where are you going?”
“To make breakfast. Do you want some?’
“No. I’m going to keep trying ʼtil I cum. Everyone has to have goals.”
Two minutes later she’s walking naked into the kitchen.
“That was fast.”
“And how! What’s for breakfast?”
After breakfast I say, “Well, Darlin’, I have to go to work.”
“You’re not wearing any pants!”
“It’s underwear Wednesday.”
“It’s not Wednesday, it’s Monday,” she corrects me.
“I plan my outfits ahead of time.”
“And don’t you mean Wonderwear Wednsday, as in, I wonder where my pants are?”
“Yeah.”
I go to the bedroom and put on my pants. She follows me.
“You can’t go out in those pants!” she gasps.
“I could take them off, but I’d catch a breeze.”
“No no no. I mean, I can see every line and curve of your cock clear as day through those.”
“Well, that never stopped you from wearing your yoga pants in public, now did it?”
“What are you talking about?” she asks defensively.
“As if you were unaware of your camel-toe.”
“Phhh,” she says, dismissively while staring at my crotch. “That thing is huge in there! Sheesh, you’ll scare your secretary.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of, or are you afraid she’ll get the same look in her eye that you have now?”
“Shut up. You cannot go to work like that. It’s bad enough that you have a young female secretary. Now pull it out.”
“But Lo, I have only like three minutes to get going!”
She gets on her knees and unzips my fly, pulling out my cock. But she also continues her rant. “I’m just doing a public service. If you go to work like this, then you’re just contributing to the misogynistic, patriarchal, intersectional systems of oppression.”
“Wow, that’s a mouthful.”
“You’re also a mouthful,” she says as she goes down on me.
“Are you doing a public service or do you wish to service the public?”
She pauses in her fellatio and looks to say, “Please don’t make bad puns while I have your cock in my mouth.”
With merely the gentle touch of her lips on the tip of my cock and the beautiful view of her on her knees, I finally cum. So quick, so unexpected, and so much that it spews all over her face, neck, and tits. She looks up at me and says in astonishment, “That was a hot surprise!”
“Sounds like a special in a restaurant.”
“It’s a plate best served horny.”
“So,” I ask, “what do you want to do with the remaining two and a half minutes I have?”
Suddenly she notices something and looks up at me with a scowl. “You came all over my hair! How did you do that?”
“That’s one of my natural talents.”
“And you came in like five seconds.”
“That’s one of my unnatural talents.”
“Did you like it?” she asks.
“I loved it,” I say, “but I’m so sleepy now.”
“Yeah, because you were groping me all night.”
“Impossible! I slept like a rock.”
“You said you slept like you were hit by a bus.”
“Like a rock that was hit by a bus.”
“Where are you going all dressed up?” she asks after I zip up.
“I have a date.”
“With whom?”
“With destiny.”
“Who is she, I’ll tear her apart!”
“She’s a fickle woman who always gets her way.”
A few moments later, Lola appears in the living room, miraculously all dressed and ready to go to work. She’s wearing a pearl necklace.
“That’s pretty I say.”
“This?” she asks, holding the necklace. “It’s my second pearl necklace of the day!”
“Very funny,” I say.
She leans in to kiss me goodbye before we both leave. “You’ll be home at 11:00 to fuck?” I ask.
“Yeah. Will you be here?”
“Let me check my schedule to see if you can fit me in,” I reply.
“Darling, I could fit way more than you in.”
“Then I’ll bring a few friends.”
“Just be here at eleven. I’ll supply the extras.”
[Art by JoKoss)
Inveterate Masturbator
It’s almost 9:00 a.m. and Lo hasn’t emerged from the bedroom yet. I walk into the bedroom and as I open the door I find her lying on the bed, tum down, ass up, in her left hand she holds her phone and she is staring at it intently as her right hand manipulates a dildo in her puss and another in her ass. She looks up briefly, caught in the act.
“I would join you, but I see you’re full up,” I say snidely.
“You can be next. Just give me about ten more minutes.”
“You realize, it’s a quarter-to-nine, right?”
She waves me off, resentful of the interruption, concerned about the distraction.
When I walk in again at five-to-nine, she’s already in her tight pants, her pumps, and blouse, ready to go to work.
“What happened to my turn?” I inquire.
“Sorry Daddio, but I only had room for three this morning.”
“What do you mean, room for three?”
“I mean, three orgasms.”
“I didn’t even hear you.”
She shrugs her shoulders and walks into the bathroom to fix her hair. When she does, I take a surreptitious glance at her phone. I see that she had made a phone call at 8:47 to Brian. I guess that’s why she was so quiet.
“You know,” I call to her from the bed, “you’re an inveterate masturbator.”
“What’s ‘inveterate’ mean, Daddy?” she asks in her little-girl voice.
“Chronic, confirmed, hardened, incurable, incorrigible, habitual, unrepentant.”
“Yep, that sounds like me. I like it: Inveterate Masturbator. It could be my superhero name.”
“And your superpower would be. . . making yourself cum?”
“That and the power to make others cum. You want to cum, Daddio?” she asks teasingly.
“Yes, yes I do!”
“Tell me more.”
“I want to cum. Isn’t that enough?”
“Tell me how you want to cum,” she says, walking over to me and putting her hand on my crotch.
“I want to cum in you, on you, for you, under you – choose your preposition.”
“Do you want me to tug your cock and jack you off or do you want me to suck it or do you want to fuck my puss or do you want to fuck my ass?”
“Preferably, a little of each, you know, like tapas.”
“Hmmm,” she hums, “I like that.” Then, abruptly, she turns and walks out of the bedroom. “Too bad I have to go to work,” she calls over her shoulder. “I guess you’ll just have to be hard-up for me all day.”
That is too much. All niceties are off. “What about your friend?” I call back to her.
“My friend?” she asks as she slips into her heels.
“Yeah, Brian, who you had phone sex with this morning.”
“Daddy,” she says, stopping in her tracks, “you were snooping.”
“Yeah, so. It doesn’t change the fact.”
“Well, I guess you’ll just have to be really hard-up all day until I get home and have the time to tell you about it. Kisses,” she says as she puckers up. I am in no mood to kiss her after that torture. She waits with her eyes closed. When she feels nothing on her lips, she opens one eye and then the other. “Fine,” she says, “if you don’t want to kiss me, I’ll find someone who does.”
With that she walks out the door.
Slap Shot
“Tell me about the hockey team,” I say.
“What hockey team?” she asks.
“Don’t be coy Roy,” I say.
“Oooohhhh, you mean the hockey team that I met on my trip.”
“Yeah, that hockey team. Why? Is there another I should know about?”
“There are a lot of hockey teams in the world.”
“And you’re just the gal for each of them, aren’t you?”
“If you say so,” she says, batting her eyelids.
“Just tell me about the hockey team you began telling me about the other night.”
She had begun telling me about it the night she returned from her business trip, but I was so primed and ready for our reunification that I didn’t last long enough to hear any more than the teasing preview. Now a few weeks had gone by of my living in ecstatic mystery wondering about her little hints and jibes and I felt ready to hear the full-length tale.
“First,” she says, “get naked and lie on your back.”
I follow instructions.
She pulls out the massage oil and drips it over my cock. She begins to rub as the starts up where she left off.
“I told you, I was on my way back up to my hotel room when I got in the elevator with a bunch of guys who had arrived in town for a hockey tournament. I think they positively could smell how horny I was. They began to make small talk with me and I flirted back. They told me that they had the entire ninth floor of the hotel. I told them I was on the eleventh floor and I asked if they were up for coming up.”
“Let me guess, they were all very hard-up.”
“Oh yeah,” she says, caressing my member with both hands. “Just like you. . . only bigger.”
“And?”
“Well, they invited me to their floor first and so I got off.”
“Off the elevator?”
“Well, I got off on my floor, went to my room, got myself off, freshened up, and then went to their floor. All the doors were open on their floor and everyone was coming and going like in a dorm room. I flitted here and there and some of them were changing or walking around with their shirts off and a few had just gotten out of the shower and had nothing on but a towel around the waist. They were all gorgeous.”
“I bet. I bet you didn’t even see their faces.”
“Oh, no. I saw their faces and their arms, their chests, their lovely sculpted legs. I saw just about everything.”
“But you wanted more.”
“More is my favorite amount. So I invited five of them down to my room.”
“You did what?”
“You heard me. A select five.”
“Oh, I’m glad to hear that. How did you select them?”
“I had the whole team stand at attention in a row naked and I selected the five longest cocks.”
“You did not!”
“No, but a lady can dream, can’t she?”
“Anyhow, I selected the five nicest guys and we went down to my room and I told them a bit more about me before slipping off my panties. I had my little black cocktail dress on and I bent over the side of the bed and let them take a look under it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And I encouraged them to pull out their cocks and jack off behind me, which they did willingly.”
“I bet.”
“And then I said, ‘Go on, slap it.’ And one of them gave me a good, solid whack.”
“They were so kind and considerate.”
“I thought so too! My fingers were down between my legs, caressing and pulling my long pussy lips. They could see as they took turns slapping my ass. First they were timid, but then they grew more confidant as I moaned and said ‘Yes.’ Then I asked who wanted to be first in. One of the guys immediately got behind me and began thrusting as hard and fast as he could. It was rough and manic like a jackhammer horizontally placed in my cunt.”
“And you loved it, I bet.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong. But he came so quickly, deep inside me. I crawled up on the bed and let the next guy in. He was slower, more loving.”
“Loving?”
“Well, more gentle. I turned over my shoulder and said, ‘You can do better than that,’ and his friends encouraged him. They each had their puds in their hands, except for the guy who had just cum in me. But guy number two couldn’t finish. I guess it was a lot of pressure. He pulled out and a lot of cum from the first guy dripped out of me. One of them snapped a photo of me from behind just before the third guy went in me. After that, I sort of lost track of who was where because then one of them got under me and entered me so that they were double penetrating my pussy just like I always wanted. And later one was fingering my ass and then he let himself in there, cumming deep inside while a different guy was under me in my puss. I have no idea who came where or how many times I came. One of them even got in front of me and came in my mouth and on my face. In the end, let’s just say that everyone had scored at least once.”
“Who says that hockey is a zero-sum game?”
“Right? Win-win!”
“Any chance I can get a shot on goal?”
“It’s wide open,” she says as she gets on top of me and slides her puss down my pole.
“How’s it feel,” she asks.
“Smoother than ice, and a whole hell of a lot warmer.”
Pride Day
Lola and I happened to be in the nation’s capital for Gay Pride Day. It was a perfect sunny June day and we had just had brunch in our little B&B in the center of the city. We looked over the events listed in the LGBTQ paper and had forged a rough plan for the day. We began at Dupont Circle watching the crowd of ebulliently self-proclaimed “fags,” “dykes,” and “traps” congregate. We wandered along with the flow of folks until the stream we were in grew to a mighty river of revelers. The party and parade were in full swing and we were cheering on the costumed and carousing throng.
After a while of this, we grew thirsty and hungry and we wondered off the main route to some smaller streets to find someplace to replenish our energy. As we walked about in a neighborhood we didn’t know, we saw two guys, obviously a couple, in their mid-forties or so and we asked them for a recommendation. They stopped just long enough for one of them to say, “If you turn right down this alleyway, there’s a small bar with good food and cold drinks at the very end. But,” he looked us over quickly and immediately concluded that we were a straight couple, “it probably isn’t for you.”
I took great offense at that, but Lo brushed it off or, more accurately, she took it as a personal challenge.
We followed his instructions and sure enough down a long alleyway, just wide enough for us to walk single file, we found a door. There was no name. There was nothing to announce that this was any sort of dining establishment. Just a door. There was nowhere else for us to go, so we went in.
On the other side of that mysterious door was a dark room full of men of all ages. There were no windows so not even a hint of the glorious day filtered into this shady hole in the wall. Guys were playing pool, others were sitting around the bar drinking beers, and some others, but very few, were at tables having lunch.
Instead of sports games on the various TVs in the bar as you would see elsewhere, there was a seemingly endless slideshow of naked and semi-naked men projected on every screen. Each man was buff, handsome, and totally gay. Lo was practically drooling looking at them.
“Hungry?” I asked her.
“You have no idea,” she said before snapping out of it and asking, “You mean, for lunch?”
“Lunch, or whatever,” I said back.
“I could do whatever.”
We sat at the bar and got a few odd looks from the patrons. She was the only women in there and the fact that I was with her made it even more of a spectacle.
We ordered some food and two cold beers. We were parched.
As we waited for the food to come, one affable fellow with less xenophobia than the rest started up a conversation with us. He asked us where we were from, what brought us to D.C., how we were liking it, and our experience of the Pride Parade. He was tall, about six feet, and easy going, as if from the south – or further south than D.C. He had a moustache and a chiseled jawline. He made us feel at ease and the fact that he was talking to us was a sign to the rest of the guys that it was ok.
After we ate and had about three beers, Lo was feeling like playing pool and so she challenged this gent to a game. He laughed, as if Lo couldn’t possibly beat him, and accepted her offer. Lo’s pride was at stake and she marched up to the table and racked up the balls. She picked up the cue ball and said, “Do you want to break or shall I?”
“You can,” he said with a chuckle.
“What?” asked Lo, “You think I don’t know how to handle some heavy balls and a long stick?”
“I didn’t say that,” he replied, amused.
Lo bent over the table, revealing a bit under her denim skirt, and took her shot. Nothing went in.
“You might be able to handle balls and a stick, but getting it in the pocket is the trick,” he said.
“Trust me,” said Lo, “I know how to get it in the hole.”
He laughed again as he took his shot. It was an easy shot but he did it with the cool and confidence of a pro. I was worried for Lo’s pride.
The game went on with his taking five shots to every one of Lo’s. He quickly vanquished her. But he was kind about it. He offered to buy us both a drink to show no hard feelings.
“No hard feelings,” said Lo, as she took a sip of her beer, cheersing him, “but is anything else hard?” she asked.
“You got yourself a woman who really likes a challenge,” he said to me with a playful wink of his eye. Then to her, “If you want to find out, follow me.”
He put down his drink and started to walk off toward an even darker corner of the bar. Lo looked at me as her tongue ran its way over her lips, and she followed him. They sat at a small, private round table in the shadows and from where I stood at the bar I could see them making out. His big hands found their way up her skirt and I could see her convulsing. She then repositioned herself, straddling her legs over his knee as she sat looking at him and kissing him, her right thigh rubbing up against his crotch. I saw her right hand reach down between his legs and rub his cock while he buried his face in her breasts.
Though the others in the bar could see it if they chose to look, they simply ignored it. Lo’s left hand was rubbing up and down the man’s right bicep. Knowing Lo, I was sure that she was squirting all over the guy’s jeans. Then there was a moment when they both froze, as if the movie was on pause. Then they moved really slowly. The guy went to the bathroom. Lo sauntered proudly back to me at the bar.
“Did you pay the tab?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Good, let’s go.”
“But you didn’t say goodbye to your new friend.”
“That’s ok. He’s going to be a while cleaning up.”
And just like that we walked out, down the long alley, and back into the sunlit celebration of sexuality.
“Do you know what made me cum?” Lo asked.
“Rubbing his strong arms?”
“Well, yes, that, but also he said to me that he wished you would join in and he could suck your cock while I sucked his.”
“Did he now?”
“Yeah. How do you feel about that?”
“Well, it’s too bad you didn’t tell me earlier.”
“Would you do it?”
“I guess we’ll never know since you took care of him all by yourself.”
“Well, why didn’t you follow me to the table?”
“You looked like you had things well in hand.”
“But you could have joined.”
“I guess,” I said, “but I like to be asked. It’s a matter of personal pride.”
Lola Left to Her Own Devices
We were separated for a week. She went out of town. When we are reunited, I slip into bed next to her naked body. She wakes enough to ask, “Did you masturbate while I was gone?”
“No?”
“Did you hook up with anyone?”
I chuckle a little bit.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because, darling, I didn’t even leave the house.”
“Did any one come to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I mean, someone could have cum to me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. There are whole hosts of people who could have cum to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I simply mean that I, er, rather, you and I, get emails quite frequently from people who tell me, I mean, er, us, that they have cum to me. That is, to my stories about you. Any number of people could have cum to me anywhere around the world while you were gone. And many times at that!”
“Oh,” she says. “Well, that’s not what I mean. You just forget about all of them, because you have got the real thing, naked, right here in bed with you right now.”
“Well, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Did you masturbate while you were gone?”
“Frequently.”
“Did you hook up with anyone?”
“Fuck me and you’ll find out.”
“I haven’t seen you for a week. Can’t we get reacquainted first?”
“Sure. That sounds like fun.”
I lean in to kiss her. Our lips meet. Her tongue finds mine. She begins to maneuver so that I slide to her neck and her breasts.
“So much for our reacquaintance,” I say.
“I want to get to know you, like really know you, in the biblical sense.”
“I see.”
“My legs are spread, now get in there.”
“Ah,” I say as I slide down her torso, “sweeter words have never been spoken.”
I give soft, gentle kisses to her labia. She moans. Within moments she is pressing my head hard down onto her clit. She climaxes without warning.
“Now fuck me, Daddy,” she whispers.
“But I just ate you out. Don’t you want. . .”
Before I could finish, she says, “Pussy isn’t like cake.”
“What?”
“You can’t have your cake and eat it too. But you can eat me and have me too. Now, have me.”
I slide in, penetrating her dripping pussy. She moans. She cums.
“I thought you were going to tell me about your time away,” I say, eager to hear her voice and the stories she has to tell.
“Just stay in me and I’ll tell you everything you want to hear.”
I hold her body tightly in my arms and she begins to tell me about how at the hotel bar a guy approached her. She describes his attractive features and stylish suit. She adds, “But I knew he wasn’t actually interested in sleeping with me.”
“Why’s that?”
“As we were talking, he told me what I already suspected. He was gay. I said to him, ‘What’s a nice gay boy like you doing following a slut like me?’ and he said, he just wanted someone to talk to and I looked approachable. We talked for a while and then we politely said goodnight. I went to the elevator to go to my hotel room, horny, but glad to have met someone new. Just as I got to the elevator at the hotel lobby, a whole team of college hockey players had just arrived on their bus from who-knows-where. I got to talking to them and a bunch of us went up to my room. Basically, there were a lot of guys packed into a tight space.”
“Wait,” I said, as I fucked her with more intensity, eager to hear where her story was leading, “are you talking about your hotel room?”
“I was talking about my pussy.”
Before she could go on, I pull out. (It had been a long time. The idea of Lo knowing that she looked like a slut in the hotel bar, being approached by a guy, and acknowledging her sluttiness was almost too much for me. But then, to hear those words from her lips – well, that was beyond my mortal powers.) I cum and I cum quickly and a lot. I project a “shooting star” up and over her head, landing on the pillow.
Lola complains that she was just warming up.
“Let me remind you that you came twice to my nill.”
“As it should be,” she says, precociously, adding, “But aren’t you good for at least one more? I mean, it’s been a fucking week! A week of no fucking. You gotta be hard-up enough for one more shag. All I want to do is bone, but you won’t give me your bone to do it with.”
“I can’t. I don’t have a bone. It’s the missing link.”
She takes out her Hitachi to do herself in bed as I go take a shower. When I’m done, I open the bathroom door to look at her. “You may go. I’m busy here,” she says dismissively.
“You may cum,” I reply. “You certainly seem to love yourself,” I say.
Looking up from her horizontal position on the bed, she says to me, “I feel most confident when making myself climax. Or maybe I climax just when I feel most confident. Either way, I’m good at it.”
“Well, all your admirers enjoy it,” I reply, snapping a photo of her.
She looks down between her legs and sees me with my camera out. She pulls away the Hitachi, spreading her legs wide. “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille,” she says as I get her puss in focus.
“Say cheese!”
Instead, she lets out a long moan while ejaculating. I just barely avoid a disaster with my non-waterproof camera.
“I hope you got the money shot,” she says, catching her breath.
“You know, as much as I love you and love to fuck you, it’s difficult to compete with how much you love and fuck yourself.”
“It’s not about quantity, it’s about how deep the love is.”
“How deep is your love?”
She giggles, humming the melody to the song, “How Deep is Your Love,” before telling me, “Masturbation is what self-love looks like in public.”
I turn to leave the room and leave Lo to her own devices, but just as I step into the hall, I hear her screaming at the top of her lungs. I open the door and see her spouting from between her legs as if a pipe had burst. She tries to close her legs to shut off the waterworks, but it’s futile. Might as well let it all out. When she’s done she turns to me and says, “I came, I saw, I came,” victoriously.
“What did you see?” I ask.
“I think I saw God.”
Red-Handed
Sunday morning and, uncharacteristically, I slept late. I usually “arise” hours before Lo – meaning, due to her lovely slumbering, naked body next to me, my cock is up before the sun and then I awake and, wishing to avoid disturbing her, I sneak out of the bedroom and perch myself on the couch in the living room writing erotica about her until she wakes and is ready to have me.
However, that morning was different. For whatever reason, I didn’t get up before dawn and when my eyes did finally open, I awoke to find Lo on her tum next to me in bed. Her phone was carefully placed at the head of the bed so she could read or look at something on its screen, her left hand was between her legs caressing her wet pussy lips and her right hand was casually giving my erect cock a hand-job.
Just as my eyes were opening in order to take all this in and attempt to make out the digital numbers on the clock, I heard her orgasm ramping up as she moaned into the pillow. Her right hand let go of my cock and assisted her left in caressing her pussy. The moans grew louder and her ass lifted in the air as if she were being penetrated by a phantom lover behind her. She looked like an inch-worm as her ass slowly descended flat again with the passing of the ecstasy.
Without words, I gently pushed her over onto her back and spread her legs, entering her very wet pussy. Her orgasm must have been blissful because she was unaware of anything at that moment, allowing me to see what was on the screen of her phone as it was still on, tilted against the headboard. It showed pictures of Brian. Apparently he works out a lot and he has a whole page of various images of himself bench pressing, curling, and doing sit-ups – all shirtless. Lucky Lo.
I whispered to her, “Lo, you’re a bad girl.”
“I know, Daddy. I’m sorry.” She didn’t even try to deny it. She was caught red-handed.
“As a punishment,” I said, feeling particularly entitled to demand whatever it was that I wanted, “you will have to do something for me.”
“What Daddy?” she said with some fear in her voice.
“First, turn over.”
She complied. I got up behind her as if I were that phantom lover. I penetrated her and began working at pleasing her pussy.
“What Daddy?” she asked, apprehensive of my wishes.
“When you cum,” and I knew she was going to cum soon, “I want you to call out his name.”
“Whose name?” she asked, poorly feigning innocence.
“You know who.”
“No, Daddy.” My demand for her to own up to her unfaithfulness during sex seemed too much for her.
I spanked her bottom. She moaned with delight. “Yes, Lo. Brian. You will call out Brian’s name when you cum. Do you hear me?”
“Yes Daddy.”
“Good.”
I went at her as I’m sure she had been imagining when she came the first time and, sure enough, within thirty seconds of agreeing to my punishment, she began whispering, “Brian.” Her invocation grew louder and then she was calling out, “Brian! Yes! Brian! Yes! Fuck me! Brian, I’m cumming!”
Hearing her call out another man’s name, knowing what she was thinking about, and visualizing all those photos that turned her on so much was too much for me. I held out as long as I could and then I called to her, “Turn around and get on your knees!”
She jumped off my cock and swung around as I got to my feet on top of the bed and grabbed my throbbing cock. I came all over her face as she submissively basked in the rain of cum.
When I was done, I simply said, “That’s my good girl.”
“All I want is to be your good girl, Daddy,” she said.
“I know that’s not all you want, but you’re lucky I’m such a good Daddy and I’m willing to give you whatever it is you want.”
“I know, Daddy. And you’re lucky that you have a dirty little slut like me,” she said as she ran her tongue over her cum-covered lips.