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.”
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.
I
was asleep, to begin with. There is no
doubt whatever about that. It was 4:45
in the a.m. and I was stirred from my slumber by the sonorous buzz of Lo’s
vibrator, the rhythmic rattle of the bed, and the blue glow illuminating her
face that was so contorted with a look of singular focus and intensity that I
thought I was seeing a ghost. She was
lying on her tum, both hands buried under the covers and under her body, the
phone propped up on a pillow about six inches in front of her. From the sound of the Hitachi’s hum and the
shaking of the bed, I deduced that she was working her clit with the Magic Wand
and her puss with a dildo, leaving no hands free.
I
opened one eye first and, upon seeing her apparition, I surprised myself with
my ability to remain inconspicuous. I
didn’t stir. I tried to give no hint
that I was, in fact, awake – inconsiderately propelled out of my torpor. I saw her struggle to keep the pleasure
points stimulated while simultaneously fumbling through her phone for
images.
Acutely
aware that no mortal would be able to withstand the auto-erotic stimuli that Lo
was producing, I announced my awakening by asking Lo, “Can I help you?”
I
was hoping she would be grateful if I would get behind her, replacing her
dildo, freeing up one hand so she could scroll through the photos. But no.
“Yeah,”
she said, not surprised and unconcerned that I was awake, “swipe left.”
I
did as she commanded. I looked at her
phone and there were pics of men, women, couples – all getting off to her
photos. As she gazed at each image, she
took in the content, and then said, “Swipe.”
A fan
She
was demanding, insistent, and a tad rude about it. But she had a goal and nothing was going to
get in her way – certainly not good manners.
“Swipe,”
she said. I did as told. Another photo of a guy jacking to her pics.
An Enthusiastic Fan
“Swipe.” A photo of a woman jilling to Lo.
“Swipe.” A picture of a couple; the woman gives the
guy a blowjob as Lo’s image is on the computer in front of them.
Stella’s Tribute
“Swipe.” A man with what looks to be a 12 inch
cock. He holds it with two hands as if
wielding it like a weapon. I hear Lo
whisper, “Fuck.” She scrunched up her
legs under her like an inchworm. The bed
rattled. It’s a big, heavy, solid
bed. It takes a lot for it to
rattle.
Lo said,
“Fuck!” Louder this time. More angry almost. I heard the Hitachi click into high
gear. Lo squeezed her eyes closed
tightly.
“FUCK!!!”
she called out. I heard the dildo shoot
out of her followed by the sounds of her geyser gushing onto the bed. She convulsed, clutching the bed sheets, burying
her head in the pillow and screaming at the top of her lungs:
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!”
Then
silence. Peace. Stillness.
She struggled
to lift her head. When she did, she looked
at me. Tears were streaming down her
cheeks.
“You ok?” I
asked.
She nodded,
a little ashamed.
“Feel
better?”
She nodded
again.
“Ready to
sleep?”
She nodded a
third time.
I pulled her
head to my chest where she rested it comfortably. One wet leg was lying flat on the bed nest to
my leg. She lifted the other wet leg and
placed it over my legs, parallel to her arm which reached around my chest. She was wrapped around me like a marsupial
clinging to a tree. I felt her puss
still slippery and perhaps ejaculating a dribble more like a leaky faucet on my
hips.
I kissed her
forehead and said, “Sleep.” There was no
need. I could tell by her breathing that
she was already in dreamland.
Meanwhile,
my cock was rock hard as the first light of dawn began to illuminate the
windows.
Lo
came home from work late that night. I
had already eaten dinner and was lying on the couch engaging in my favorite
illicit pastime while Lo’s away, watching “SMILF.” She walked in just as Frankie Shaw was
engaging in a self-pleasure solo session, which isn’t all that coincidental,
given how often she does that in the show.
(Since Frankie Shaw writes and directs the series, I think that she
secretly wishes to be a porn star.)
Lo Likes Little Penis Porn
Lo
stood next to the couch looking down at me, judging hard.
“What?”
“You
know what,” she said, accusatorily.
“I
was just. . .”
“I
don’t care what you were just. Turn it
off. If you want to see a sexy woman
engaged in sex-for-one, then get in the bedroom. I’ll be there filling my snatch full of fun.”
I
shut off the episode and met Lo in the bedroom where she was on the bed, legs spread,
dildos laid out next to her like a surgeon’s tray of scalpels, forceps, and clamps. She had her phone in her left hand.
“What’s
that?” I asked.
“I call it my ‘in box.’ It likes to be filled.”
I
didn’t know if she meant what she was looking at on her phone or her beautiful
mons pubis, which at the moment she was about to penetrate with her long, red, double-ended
dildo.
Self-Care
I
removed my clothes and sat in the bed next to her, vying for her
attention. She was busy reading something. I inquired.
“I’m reading about my friend and blogger, Nero Black. His wife caught him about to masturbate.”
“Oh
really?”
“Yeah,”
she said, easing the dildo into her tight taco.
“His wife loves to read erotica and masturbate, but she never lets him
get in on the goods.”
“How
does he know her reading habits?”
“He
has access to her Kindle subscription and sees what she downloads.”
“Oh.”
“And
he’s hard-up as a result.”
“I
bet you find that an open invitation to flirt.”
“Who wouldn’t? Anyhow, the other night he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his pants and boxers around his ankles, his phone in one hand and his cock in the other, when she unexpectedly walked into the bedroom.”
“Uh-oh. And?”
“And
she ignored him! She acted like she didn’t
even see it.”
“And
that gets you off?”
“No,
what gets me off is imagining that the porn she reads is our blog and that the
porn he was about to wank to was my photos.”
She
dropped the phone and lay on her back to continue the fantasy.
“Did you ever get
caught?” I asked her.
“Caught? Doing what?”
“You know, jillin’
it.”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Not by any of
your previous boyfriends?”
“Look, it’s not
something I hide. If they found me
jillin’ off, then I kept on going. So
it’s not like ‘getting caught.’ It’s
more like putting on a show.”
And put on a show
she did, without ever offering to provide me with any sweet relief. Punishment for my “infidelity” watching
Frankie Shaw.
“Why
don’t you just jack it like a real man?” she complained.
“Because
I prefer fucking your flapper to fucking my fist,” I responded.
“But
Daddy,” she said, in a nicer tone now, “don’t you know that I find it hot to see a man masturbating?”
“Any
man, masturbating to anything, or certain men, masturbating to you?”
“I
prefer men to masturbate to me, but seeing any man masturbating to anything
still turns me on,” she said as she was rubbing her puss under the covers. “Please, Daddy, just stoke it for me, over
me, to me.”
“Maybe
I’ll just get my Stoya Fleshlight,” I said, trying to arouse her jealousy so
she’d give herself over to me completely.
“No! If you do, I’ll get out my horse cock dildo
and my Hitachi!”
“That
sounds fair. . . and fun!”
“No,”
she said, “I want you to use your hand and I’ll finger-fuck my holes.”
“Fine,”
I said, more willing to concede due to the prospect of watching her. I pulled down the covers, got between her
legs, grabbed my hard member, and pulled at it for her to see.
“That’s
it Daddio,” she said as she spread her legs wide, began inserting the fingers
of her right hand into her puss and slid her left hand around from underneath
her ass to penetrate her posterior place.
“Did
you make every man you were with masturbate for you?”
“I
didn’t have to make them,” she said.
“They volunteered.”
“Tell
me about it.”
“There
are so many. Which one?”
“Tell
me about Teddy.”
Teddy
was her fuck-buddy in college. A tall, lean,
basketball player with an enormous cock.
“I’d
lie in his dorm room bed and he’d stand over me with his huge black cock right
over my face. It was as long as my
entire head. He’d drop his balls in into
my mouth and grab his rod with both hands.
Both hands!” she said with emphasis.
“He’d stoke it over me as I lay naked on the bed and then, when he came,
he shot all the way down to my knees and covered me with his hot jizz up to my
chin.”
I
could tell that as she told me this story, she was on the verge of climaxing
herself. But she held back.
“Tell
me about Gerald.”
Gerald
was also a college fuck friend. The
opposite of Teddy in every way, except Gerald was also an athlete – a
bodybuilder whose bulging biceps attracted Lo until she found that he had a
micropenis.
“He
was so self-conscious about his size that, no matter how much I wanted to take
him in my mouth, he was resistant. My
natural attraction for women made the prospect of licking that little clit so
appealing, especially since he shaved it and his balls clean. He wore a teensy-tiny speedo when he worked
out. It was like he was wearing panties. I wanted to pleasure him with my lips and
tongue all the time, since I obviously didn’t feel him in either of my holes,”
she said as she fingered both of her holes more deeply.
“Did
he jack it for you?”
“It
was the only way he could cum. He’d pull
that little pimple with his thumb and index finger as he stood over me, just
like Teddy did, and then he’d ejaculate all over my face. It was the only way he could feel dominant.”
“How
often did he do that?”
“Countless
times. It always left me unsatisfied,
but I liked it nonetheless.”
“You
never met a cock you didn’t like.”
“Don’t
stop,” she said, looking at my cock as my stroking slowed. I pulled harder, longer, faster. “That’s it,” she said. Her whole hand was almost fully submerged in
her pussy and two fingers were going at her perineum.
“Tell
me about Tim,” I said. Tim was her beau
before college and, since he was older and Lo significantly younger, sex with
Lo was off-limits for him. That didn’t
mean that Lo didn’t try. Lo always finds
a way.
“He’s
probably the one responsible for my male masturbation mania. The only way he got off was by
masturbating. I would be fully clothed
and saying sexy, naughty, dirty things to him like I’m doing for you right now,
and he would jack it until he came.”
“Where’d
he cum? On your face?”
“No. He’d cum into my hands. I’d hold them out like I was receiving an
offering and then I’d lick them clean like a kitten licking a bowl of
milk. He loved that.”
That
was too much for her. She came and came
hard. Her pussy and sphincter clutching
and contracting on her deeply driven digits before eventually dilating
again. When she recovered, she looked at
me and said, “You didn’t cum.”
“No.”
“That’s
not fair, Daddy.”
“I
don’t think so either,” I said. “Why don’t
you give me a hand-job?”
“Because
I’m going to fall asleep now,” she said.
“That’s
fine, just position your left hand like you’re giving the ‘OK’ sign, and I’ll
do the rest.”
She
complied. I lay next to her and inserted
my cock. She said, “You’re just using me
as a sex object.”
I
didn’t know what to say to that, but luckily she followed up the comment with,
“And I like it. It’s so soothing.”
Reviewing
in my mind’s eye the stories she told, looking at her naked body next to me, I
came and came hard all over her. She had
drifted off to sleep. I grabbed a
washcloth, wet it with warm water, and gently cleaned her off. I kissed her mouth good night and lay next to
her thinking about what a good bad girl she is.
The
next morning I awoke to find her face bobbing up and down on my erect shaft.
“Lo?”
I asked.
She
popped off of my knob and said, “I’m sorry you didn’t cum last night,
Daddy. Let me make it up to you.”
I
didn’t disabuse her of that belief until after she accomplished her mission. When I did, she just said, “You dirty dog!”
“What?”
I asked, innocently. “You told me last
night you wanted me to cum. Was that
just lip service?”
It was one of
those strange April nights when the temperature drops twenty degrees from the daytime
high of 68, the wind rustles up the new buds on the trees outside, and from out
of the darkness, lighting, thunder, and downpours fill the sky. Lola couldn’t sleep. When I got to bed she said, “I’ve tried
everything. I’ve tried meditation,
masturbation, guided meditation, guided masturbation. . .”
“Wait. What is ‘guided masturbation’?”
“Oh,
well, I called up a friend and asked him to tell me how he wants me to
masturbate,” she said as if it were no big deal.
“You
did?”
She
nodded her head in affirmation and pouted saying, “But it didn’t help.”
“I
bet it helped him. Why didn’t you call
me?”
“You
were working hard, Daddy.”
“So?”
I asked, frustrated by the thought that she’d rather hear inappropriate
instructions from one of her suitors than from me.
“Are
you still hard at work?” she asked seductively, rubbing my crotch to gauge my
state of arousal.
“Work
hard, play hard,” I said, as I pulled out my manhood for her to see.
She grabbed it while licking her
lips.
“You
know I’m not just a sex organ,” I said.
“I
think your brain is a sex organ,” she replied as she went down on me.
“In
that case, I have a very large sex organ.”
She
interrupted her activity to look up at me and say, “And growing larger.”
“I’m
not that big,” I said.
“I
meant your ego.”
“I’ll
have you know, I’m very humble.”
“Looks
to me, you have a lot to be humble about,” she said caustically.
“What
do you mean?”
She
pulled down the sheets to reveal her huge horse-cock dildo on the bed next to
her, still glistening.
“I’m
so big, wide, and wet that I wouldn’t feel any bit of you.”
“Care
to test that hypothesis?”
“I’m stretched to my
limit.”
“You have a limit? That’s news to me!”
“‘Limit’ is a flexible term. Like ‘full’ or ‘fucked.’”
“Oh, so it’s elastic?”
“Yeah, it can be used in many
different ways.”
“Depends on who’s using it.”
“Right. It takes a lot of abuse, but it is never
exhausted.”
“Never wears out.”
“Right.”
“Like this terrible pun.”
“What pun?”
“Are we still talking about ‘limit’?”
“I wasn’t, were you?”
“Darling, you certainly do push the
limits.”
“What limits?”
“All of them. But the real question is, why did you call on
some other guy for your ‘guided masturbation’ when you could have called upon
me?”
“So many married men turn to me for
sweet release. I’m a goddess of pussy. I answer to the call of depravity.”
“But you called him!”
“Well, I saw that he had posted a
pic of a cumtribution he had made for another girl and he wrote, ‘For my
beautiful cum slut.’ I called him to
remind him that I am his beautiful
cum slut.”
“You think you’re everyone’s
beautiful cum slut.”
“Well, aren’t I?”
“Everyone but mine, I guess.”
“Oh,
Daddy,” she said, still holding my cock firmly in her hand, “would you make a
cumtribution for me? Would you jack it
to my photos and cum all over them?”
“Lo,
why would I do that when I have you right here, in the flesh?”
“To
show me your unfailing love.”
“Lo,
I write thousands upon thousands of pages of poetry for you, but you’d rather I
grab my masculine member and stroke it until I ejaculate a hot mess over your
image?”
“I
call it giving tribute to my icon.”
“Because
you’re a goddess of pussy.”
“Now
you’re turning me on!”
“Those
are your words.”
“Well,
you feel that way, don’t you?”
“How
could I not, darling. It is the truth.”
“So
you’ll make an offering at my virtual alter?”
“If
you want me to, I will.”
“Now?”
“Whenever
you say.”
“No,
not now. I want you to do it when I’m
away. Now you can enter my holy temple.”
“But
I thought I wouldn’t even feel you.”
“You
won’t and I won’t feel you, but why should that stop us from fucking?”
I
got between her legs and entered her. She
was right – it was like a mere mortal entering the pearly gates. However, that only made it more alluring for
me. She could tell I was getting turned
on.
“Cum inside me,” she said.
“Put your fingers inside you, right where you want me
to cum.”
She inserted almost her whole fist along over my cock
and I could feel her fingering her G-spot.
“There,” she said, “right there.”
I came and came with force all over her fingers. She gripped my cock with her hand inside her
and milked it for every drop.
When I pulled out, she said she was going to clean up. I drifted off on the bed until I heard her
calling out for God from the shower. It
startled me. I navigated the thick cloud
of steam to find her squatting on the shapely bottle of Dove shampoo, rubbing
her clit, and cumming uncontrollably.
(Do they make the bottles that shape for that purpose or did she buy that
brand because of its ergonomic contours?
The questions Lo causes me to ask.)
I disappeared into the fogbank as stealthily as I had
entered it. I went back to the bed. When she climbed in naked next to me, I held
her warm body.
“Just in time,” I said.
“Just in time for what?” she asked.
“Tomorrow is the first of May.”
“Hooray!
Hooray! It’s the first of May!”
she sung, “Outdoor fucking starts today!”
“No, silly,” I said.
“April showers.”
“Oooooh,” she said, “Maybe tomorrow I’ll let you see
my pink flower.”
“Me and the rest of the world.”
“A beautiful flower should not be hidden away to be
seen only by one man.”
“Whatcha
doin’?” I asked when I saw Lo on the bed, a book in her left hand, her right
hand under the covers, between her legs.
Her
right hand quickly withdrew and her legs snapped together as she looked up,
blushing, and said, “Nothing!”
“Looks
like you’re reading a book and masturbating.”
“Yeah,
so?” she replied belligerently.
“So,
I like that.”
“Well,
it wasn’t meant for you.”
“Why
so defensive?” I inquired as I sat on the bed next to her and looked at what
she was reading. It was Game of Thrones.
“I’m
sorry, Daddy,” she said, her tone completely changed. “I was just reading this and. . . you
startled me. That’s all.”
“What
was it you were reading?”
“Pull
down your pants, get on your back, and I’ll tell you.”
I
followed her instructions immediately.
She climbed on me, lowered herself on my erect rod, and let out a soft
moan. She was very wet and I glided in
with ease. When she was comfortable, she
said, “I was just reading a passage in the book where one of the women learns
to ride a horse. She mounts it slowly
because she’s afraid,” she said as she slowly slid down on my cock, and then
back up again. “But she gradually gains
confidence in the saddle. The horse
moves faster and she finds it exciting.
Eventually the horse breaks into a trot as all the men watch her ride
it. She rides with her husband and then
the two of them are together and. . .”
She trailed off as she began to undulate on me.
Nipple Pull
“Is
that all?” I asked.
“Pull
my nipples and twist. Hard.”
I
did as she commanded.
“Harder!”
she said.
I
was practically pulling them down to her navel as I twisted.
“She and her
husband find a place to lie down and he pinches her nipples and pulls on them, just
like you’re doing.” She came.
She
lifted her gushing puss up off my soaked spear and lay on her back. “Have me again and I’ll tell you more.”
Lo
was in the tub. I was in my business
suit. I looked down at her and said, “Lo,
how long have you been in there?”
“Why
do you ask, Daddy?”
“Because
there’s so much steam in this room that the paint is peeling.”
“Just
a little while,” she said demurely.
Cheese & Crackers
“I
see you have all your bath toys,” I said, looking at her glass dildo in her
hand, her suction cup dildo stuck to the wall, and her hand-held showerhead
dangling.
“Everything
but my rubber ducky.”
“A
rubber and a dicky?”
“That
would be nice too, but without the rubber.
Why don’t you get out of that stodgy old suit and join me?” she asked.
I
began loosening my tie and unbuckling my belt.
“That’s
it, Daddio,” she encouraged.
Red Wine
“I’m
going to change, but I’m not getting in there with you. It looks like you have things well in hand
already,” I said, as she reinserted the glass dildo.
“Well,
I’ll be out in a just a bit and then we can play ‘Hop-on-Pop.”
“You
know,” I said as I was hanging up my suit jacket and pants, “the Twittersphere was
all agog this week with memes and a bruhaha about women in bathtubs.”
“Really?”
she said, preoccupied by her pussy.
Hearts
“Yeah,”
I said, “Apparently some company is marketing bath trays for women and the ads show
all the wonderful things that a woman can do in the tub with them. But it’s backfired because, I mean, really –
who eats a five course meal and watches a movie in the tub?”
To
my rhetorical question, I heard moans and then gasps of pleasure, followed by “Fuck,
Fuuuuuuck, Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
“I
know, right?” I said.
When
she finally emerged from the bath, like Venus from the froth of the sea, she
said, “I haven’t just been doing myself, Daddy.”
Lola
“Oh
really? You had company?”
“I
wish,” she said. “No, I also did the
laundry. It’s clean and dry now.”
You,
dear reader, already know that Lola is an inveterate masturbator. You also know that I am forbidden from any
onanistic activities, unless either explicitly given permission, or told to do
so as a performance for my dear Lola.
The fact that there is a gap in our respective frequencies of
masturbatory manipulation should come as no surprise to you, and writing about
it here would simply be redundant.
However,
what I do intend on explaining, or rather, complaining about, is the
fundamentally unfair masturbation gap that exists between Lola, me, and her
fans. You see, I am not allowed to
engage in solo pleasure, not even to Lola’s sexy photos, unless granted
permission by Lo herself. And she takes
so much delight in my stymied suffering and enjoys my engorged balls so much,
that she rarely gives me the green light.
But with her fans it is another story.
One might think that Lola has no say over what her admirers do in the privacy
of their own homes with her pixilated pussy.
But that is incorrect. One of
Lo’s most enjoyable pastimes is to give specific instructions to her loyal
lovers (both near and far) about exactly how they are to worship her image, pay
tribute to her form, and pleasure themselves.
One of Lo’s Long Admirers
One
adoring admirer writes to her and asks, “What’s up?” to which she replies, “If
you’re looking at my pics, then, your cock.”
She’s not wrong.
Another
writes to her and asks very politely, “Morning, Lola. How are you?” to which she replies, “Horny,
as usual. Now jack it for me.”
They
are more than eager to comply. It
matters not to them if they are at work, home, or, as Lola really likes, lying
in bed next to their sleeping wives.
A Very Happy Fan
She
commands some of them, especially the diminutively endowed guys, to go to a
lingerie store, like Victoria’s Secret, and pick out various silk, satin, and
lace panties for women. Then she
instructs them to put the panties on and jack it to her pics and cum in the
sexy, sheer, tight material – taking pics of it, of course. An even more intense kink of Lo’s is
commanding those same fabric fetish guys to steal the panties from their wives
or girlfriends in order to wear while jacking it to Lo’s photos.
Lo Loves All Her Fans, Big & Little
Those
are the lucky ones. There are some
unfortunate fellas who are stuck in cock-cages and can only enjoy Lo’s photos
without any self-pleasure.
And
then there are the women. It is such a
complement to Lo when lovely ladies from around the globe take photos of
themselves jillin’ off to her. I will
admit that I find it very flattering when the women also make a comment about
“the steamy writing,” or say, “that story made me cum five times.” It is nice to know that every once in a while
the literary seduction I work so very hard to create from the raw material of
Lo’s sexual exploits is appreciated, especially by the lonely women, the
married but unsatisfied wives, and the other sexual insatiables out there like
Lo.
A Lovely Couple – He took the pick of her getting off to Lola
There
was a time, early on, when I actually had a small cadre of female fans who
wrote to me regularly. It was, not
coincidentally, around that time that Lo took over the email and other social
media outlets, telling me, “You do the blog, I’ll spread the word.”
Reading the Blog
Spread
the word. . . yeah right! She meant,
she’ll spread her legs and then disseminate her photos across the
internet.
But I’m not complaining. I am glad that our little corner, or crotch, of the blogosphere makes so many people happy, even if it means that I must deny myself the pleasures that others get from my hotwife Lo. After all, I have to admit that I have nothing to complain about since fans and her lovers alike all tell me how lucky I am. Can’t argue there.
Recently,
a new phrase has been popping up in various articles on sex, relationships, and
women: The Orgasm Gap. Sometimes it’s
referred to as “The Gender Orgasm Gap.”
It is the result of various studies’ data showing that women in
heterosexual relationships have far fewer orgasms than their male
partners. This gap disappears in gay
relationships.
There’s
plenty of literature out there for you to do your own reading into the matter,
but what I would like to discuss here is the orgasm gap that exists between Lo
and me. In our relationship there is
undoubtedly an orgasm gap, but it is the inverse of the one referred to above.
I’ve
conducted my own non-scientific study.
One October a few years back (I deemed it “O-month,” for “Orgasm Month”)
I did my best to count the number of orgasms achieved by Lola (either during
coitus or on her own) and the number achieved by me, your faithful author. The results were 70+ for Lo (not exactly sure
of the actual number because I was relying on her reportage of her solo
sessions and often she lost count), to my 18.
That’s approximately a 4:1 orgasm gap in favor of the female.
Now,
in our relationship there are many “understandings.” I am not allowed to jack it unless
specifically instructed by Lola. That
usually means in her presence, so she can enjoy it. I am not allowed to have sex with anyone
outside our relationship. Lo, on the
other hand (so to speak), has no strings attached. Solo sex, sex with others, accidental orgasms
– all are fair game for her.
But
a while back, when Lo was cross with me about something and thus withholding
her pleasures from me, I took matters into my own hands, literally. I got myself a Stoya Destroya
Fleshlight. It served the purpose at the
time. It also came in handy (can’t seem
to get around that double-entendre) one night when Lola was too inebriated to
give consent.
Lola Fingering Stoya
Lo
doesn’t like my using Stoya’s pussy. Her
jealousy reigns supreme. It matters not
that it is literally just a pussy and not a person. But the other night. . . .
I
had to work late. I was at the office
around 7 pm and I got a text from Lo saying that she was going out to dinner
with her friend Candice. Lo and Candice
had become close friends over the past few months. Candice is a self-described “thick”
woman. I would describe her as
lusciously zaftig. She is heavier than
Lo by at least fifty pounds. When they
met, she was in a committed relationship, but that fell apart very
suddenly. Lo became her go-to confidante
and wing-woman. They went to clubs,
bars, restaurants together about three or four times a week. I think Lo enjoyed the singles scene and
having someone to share it with. Candice
frequently found fuck-buddies, but was longing for a man who would be a
dedicated daddy. She admired Lo and was
particularly envious of our special relationship.
Candice
would often come over for brunch after her one-night-stands and dish the
details about it to both of us over mimosas.
And
then the other night. . . .
As
I was saying, Lo went out to dinner with Candice. I thought nothing of it since it had become
part of their repertoire. I figured that
Candice was horny and looking to find a cock to bring home for the night and Lo
was going to help her, as usual.
(A
little aside here: If I were granted permission to have sex with just one of
Lo’s friends, it would be Candice. I
find her voluptuousness very attractive.
But, either out of respect for Lo or lack of interest, Candice has never
reciprocated my flirtatious banter with her.
Unless, of course, the juicy stories she tells us about her sexcapades
are intended to rouse me, which they do.)
But
when I got home, I found Lo in bed, jillin’ herself silly. She had all her toys on the bed and it looked
like she had used each and every one. Currently
she was banging with the largest of the bunch.
It was stuck to the headboard and she was sliding her ass back, taking
it all in, and then sliding forward.
Back-and-forth, slapping her cheeks up against the wood and then easing
off. She didn’t stop when she saw me
enter the room. I sat and waited,
patiently by the foot of the bed. She
looked at me as she fucked her dildo.
Our eyes were locked as I saw her desperately trying to get off. When she finally climaxed, slid off the
dildo, and sprawled out in the sheets, legs spread and sloppy, I kissed her
hello.
“Are
you mad, Daddy?” she asked.
“Why
should I be mad?” I responded.
“Get
naked and I’ll tell you.”
I
did as she requested, got in bed next to her, and listened as she told me the
following story:
I went to
the restaurant to meet Candice for dinner, but I was early and she was
late. I sat at the bar and ordered a
drink while I waited for her. As I
waited, a handsome, young, black man came in and sat next to me. He was very good looking, very fit, and I
suddenly found myself getting very wet.
Candice
finally arrived and as I was finishing my drink, the young guy got up and went
to the bathroom. I turned to Candice and
told her how hot I thought he was. She
admitted to me that she thought so too.
When he
came back, he paid his tab and got up to go.
But Candice immediately went after him.
She told him what I had told her in confidence, and he returned to the
bar and sat between us. He started up a
conversation with me and I found out that he’s a football player for the
college.
As we
talked, he began rubbing my thigh and moving slowly further and further toward
my crotch. I didn’t protest.
Eventually
he came very close to me and kissed me.
I reciprocated. But then I pulled
away and told him that I was there for Candice – her wing-woman. She wasn’t supposed to be mine.
I think he
liked that. He showed an interest in
both of us and the thoughts that went through my mind. . . .
She
didn’t elaborate, so I asked her, “What thoughts would those be?”
I
was fully expecting her to say, “Get in me and I’ll tell you,” but she
didn’t. After a pregnant pause, awaiting
her command, I finally got between her legs, poised to strike, but she covered
up her crotch with both hands and protested, “No, Daddy! I can’t.
I’m sorry.”
“Why
not?” I asked, frustrated and eager.
“I
did myself a little too much. I’m
swollen and sore.”
Not
only did I want her, badly, but I also wanted to hear the conclusion of her
story just as badly. I asked her
politely if I could use the Stoya Fleshlight.
She said, “Why don’t you just use your fist like a
real man?”
“I
could ask you the same thing. Instead of
using your Hitachi, your 18” dildo, or your Remus, why don’t you just use your fist like a real slut?”
She
laughed despite her anger as she threw a pillow at me.
“Fine,
get her out,” she said.
“You’ll
hold it for me?”
She
didn’t answer. I rummaged through the
back of the closet and pulled out Stoya.
I grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer and I got both
Stoya and me nice and slick. Lo took the
hefty contraption in two hands and I slid right in.
“Comfortable?”
she asked.
“Yes,
very,” I said, making her more jealous.
“Go on with your story.”
“You
like fucking her, don’t you?” she asked.
“Not
as much as fucking you.”
“You
like fucking Stoya. You like that she’s
a porn star. You like thinking about how
many men have fucked that pussy already, how many men have cum in it.”
Stoya’s Lovely Lady Parts
I
was getting very turned on by her dirty words.
“Nothing
would be hotter than seeing you make a porno,” I replied. “I would stand in the wings while the
director, the lighting crew, the sound engineers, and of course, the four or
five male porn stars stood around your naked body as two or three of them
fucked you on camera.”
“Do
you want me or do you want Stoya?”
At
this point, I admit, in my mind, Lola and Stoya were fused into one person as I
imagined the set of the film.
“Fuck
her! Fuck her good and hard! Come on,” she demanded. “Fuck that used, slutty pussy. Cum in her.
Cum deep in her,” she commanded.
I can never resist her commands.
I came and I came hard as Lo pressed the Fleshlight down on my shaft,
licking her lips as she watched me crumble as if struck by an arrow of pure
pleasure.
I
never did get to the end of her story that night.
Lola’s Lolvely Lady Parts
I
have no idea how many times Lo came before I got home, but this is just one
example of the so-called “Orgasm Gap” in our relationship.
