We’re very excited to share this latest creation by Jupiter Grant (narrator) for Audible –
Match, Cinder & Spark, Vol. V: Shorter Shorts
Creating these audiobooks has been a labor of love. The talented and ingenious Jupiter Grant painstakingly records herself acting out all the parts. She does a great job as Lola, especially during the multiple orgasm episodes. She also pouts pretty well.
The audio experience is an eargasm for your mind. Get yours today, right here!
Markus Apegren painting
“That’s one thick slick dick!” she said.
“Lo, I’m in my pajamas and I’m not even hard,” I replied.
“I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, not picking up on my sarcasm. “Look,” she said, holding her phone to my face so I could see the surprisingly serpentine appendage which had provoked her initial comment.
“An admirer?” I half stated, half asked.
“This whole COVID quarantine thing has been crappy, but it has also produced some unexpected yet pleasant surprises. I’ve never felt so connected to my fanbase as I do now.”
a hung fan
“Not connected enough, it seems,” I added, under my breath.
“Well, it’s true that I’ve been getting off to them, but the relationship is reciprocal. I’ve heard from guys, wives, husbands, single girls, older folks who live alone, even one coed who had to move back from college to live with her parents and was so horny that hearing her parents going at it in their bedroom turned her on.”
“Luckily she had you to turn to,” I said.
I don’t think she heard me. She was indulging her natural need for self-copulation under the sheets.
“And don’t forget your sister,” I added.
She came.
“Is that the whole shebang?” I asked, wondering if she had any desire left for me. You know, her ole man lying there next to her, in the flesh, ready, willing and able to gratify her every lustful whim.
“That’s the hole shebangs,” she quipped, slapping her puss. I could hear how very wet she was.
“The hole who bangs?”
“Anyone and everyone.”
“How about this one?!” I asked, thumb pointing to my chest.
“You want me, Daddy?”
“How did you guess?”
“Then have me,” she said, holding her phone in one hand, spreading her legs as she lay missionary position on the bed, allowing me to enter her.
“Are you seriously texting while I fuck you?” I asked when she raised her other hand to the phone and was going at it with her thumbs.
“Does it bother you?”
“I’d like maybe ten percent of your attention.”
“You have one hundred percent of my pussy. Go to town.”
I didn’t stop going to Lola Down town, but I was frustrated.
“Who the hell are you writing to?”
“I have a following to satisfy, you know.”
“When you look behind you to see your following, I’m the first in line!”
She didn’t respond. She was engrossed in her text exchange.
“Are you at least sexting? – telling someone about how amazing I am in bed?”
“Yeah,” she said, unconvincingly.
“Tell the truth, Lo.”
“Well, I was actually telling a couple how sexy they are when they mutually get off to my pics.”
In my head I heard the lyrics, “Cause if you like the way you look that much, oh, baby, you should go love yourself.” But loving herself (or fucking herself) was exactly what she had been doing next to me for the past hour or so. I wanted her to respond to me.
“How about you tell me something?” I requested, not politely.
Again, she didn’t hear me. She was texting.
I pulled out.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as if I had just splashed ice water on her.
“I’m stopping.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re not into it.”
“I was into it. I was into you being in me.”
“I’m a whole person, not just a penis.”
“And I’m a hole for your penis. Put it in me.”
“Put down the phone.”
I was on my knees, looking down at her as her legs were spread with her knees on each side of me. She could see my cock dripping with her juices.
“Please, Daddy,” she whined. “Please fuck me.”
“Not until you put down the phone.”
“But it enhances the experience for me. Come on,” she said, reaching down between my legs and fondling my testicles, feeling how soaked they were. “You know you want it. I can feel how full you are. Just use me. Fill me up. Fuck me. Get your rocks off. Cum inside me.”
I couldn’t resist her voice, though I knew I should. I entered her again.
“That’s it, Daddy. Use your little girl. Drill that dirty whore.” She was saying the words as if reading a script. Her eyes were glued to her phone screen. She was typing again with her thumbs. “Yeah, Daddy. That’s it. Feels good, right?”
Speaking words to me, typing different words to some virtual lover. She was a polyglot.
I finally let myself go. I didn’t care anymore. I released my full load deep inside her. She held me for one second with one hand, pressing it to my back, and then was back at it – typing away.
I pulled out with a sploosh and she rolled onto her tum, her legs dangling in the air, her feet touching at the toes, her pussy dribbling my ejaculate out slowly.
She pulled her right hand away from the phone just long enough to rub it between her legs and then lick some of the cum off her fingers.
“I love you, Lo,” I said as I rolled over to go to sleep.
“You too, Daddio.”
Lola pumps
Penny & Lola
“Penny for your thoughts,” I said to Lo.
“Actually, Penny is all for your thoughts.”
“What?”
“Penny xox – an OnlyFans content creator. She’s loving Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts.”
“How do you know?”
“Take a look for yourself.”
Lo showed me some of Penny’s sexy “May is Masturbation Month” promotional photos.
“Wow!” I said, “Photogenic.”
“You don’t mind if I have a little Masturbation Month time before May, do you Daddy?” asked Lo as she reached under her jeans and began sliding her fingers up and down her crotch.
Penny xox
“I’ll leave you and Penny to enjoy each other.”
“Good, because I already got my subscription to her page.”
“Of course you did,” I said.
“We sex goddesses have to support each other.”
“Indeed,” I said as I went to leave the bedroom and close the door behind me.
“You can leave it open,” she said, just to rub it in, so to speak. She likes for me to hear the pleasure she gives herself when getting off to other people.
Ten minutes later, she sauntered into the living room, pantless, wearing just her t-shirt.
“Feeling better?”
“I’m ready for you now, Daddio.”
She bent over by the window, looking outside as the Sunday strollers sauntered by on the sunlit sidewalk.
Her hands were resting on the windowsill and she looked over her shoulder at me. “Well? Are you going to fuck me?”
“Do you want me or do you just want to be fucked?”
“Is there a difference?”
“That’s cruel.”
“I mean, I want to be fucked by you.”
“Me specifically, or would anyone do?”
“Are we playing Twenty Questions, or are you going to penetrate my wet pussy?”
“For you, fucking is a physical act. For me, I take pleasure in the cerebral interplay of personalities.”
“Well, you’re not going to get any play – cerebral or corporeal – if you keep talking.”
“And you’re going to get nothing but corporal punishment,” I said, as I took out my belt.
“I don’t know why you’re punishing me, but I like it,” she said, preparing for her lashing.
SMACK! – I gave her one strike across her bum. She didn’t cry out.
SMACK!! – I gave her another. She made a little peep in the back of her throat with her mouth closed. Her head bobbed up a bit as she vocalized the yipe.
SMACK!!! – I gave her a third, much harder than the first two.
“YEOW!” she cried out through the screen of the window. People on the street certainly heard her. Admirably, her hands remained on the sill.
I stood behind her. I entered her red bum. She let out a gasp of delight.
“Penny will be pleased,” she said.
Penny and Match, Cinder & Spark
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“She’s married, has two teenage sons, and her greatest thrill is turning people on.”
“Just to be clear,” I said, “you turn me on.”
“Oh, I know that. But she turned me on. You’re just reaping the rewards.”
“Looks like we both are reaping a pretty good return on just one penny,” I said as she began to squirt, her legs buckling as she bit down on her lower lip.
She had to jump off my cock and she squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could, futilely trying to stem the stream of satisfaction. Within moments she screamed as her ejaculate puddled around her bare feet on the hardwood floor.
“Looks like it’s raining,” I said.
“Penny’s from heaven,” she concluded.
Check out Penny’s OnlyFans page
Looks like Penny could use a spanking too
Mrs. Tastykakes
She’s married. She’s a mom. She’s bi. She’s sexy. She’s a MILF and a hotwife. And she has an OnlyFans page that allows her to share all her kinky allure with the world.
Her name is Tastykakes and she recently reached out to us to be part of the “May is Masturbation Month” promotion.
She got her copy of Match, Cinder & Spark – Volume V: Shorter Shorts.
Mrs. Tastykakes
As she tells the story:
My hubby and I were at home the night it arrived. I had torn into the packaging eagerly and pulled out the book. I began reading on the bed and he was behind me, fucking me, trying to read over my shoulder, but really he could only see the sexy photos. I was reading the story, ‘Spring Showers,’ about how Lo went for a walk in April and suddenly had to stop in her tracks due to ‘accidental squirting.’ It gave me an idea. It was April. It was warm out. I was feeling slutty and sexy like Lo. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I suggested to him, mid-coitus.
‘Can I cum first?’ he asked, or rather, pleaded.
‘Only if you cum in me,’ I said.
He thrust two or three more times before cumming deep in my cunt.
I threw on a sheer, oversized top and nothing else. We walked out into the sultry evening air and I could feel his cum oozing down my inner thigh.
Instead of sexy photos with the book taken inside, we found a few places for a little exhibitionist show. The entire time, my leg was wet and sticky as his load kept coming, mixed with my juices as I was so excited to be taking a dangerous photo shoot in the courtyard of our building. I wonder if our neighbors saw. I sure hope so.
Mrs. Tastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes
See more of Mrs. Tastykakes here:
https://www.flowcode.com/page/mrstastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes and Lover
[The following story, which took place a few years ago, was published in the March edition of ENM Magazine – Ethical Non-Monogamy. Unfortunately, despite heroic efforts by its publisher, this month is the last month of its short existence.]
Lo’s Green Dress from ENM spread
Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago, where the river runs green and the jazz of a bygone era still swings. Lo and I had gone there for Lily and Jim’s wedding. It was an extravagant affair. All the quaint rituals and odd practices of the public betrothal symbolizing holy monotony. I mean monogamy. I mean matrimony. Sorry, I struggle to find the right words sometimes. All the focus on the bride as an unblemished princess performing for her solid, stoic king. There’s just something about it that provokes the puckish prankster in me. Especially when I know that the beautiful bride in her pure white gown has a devilish desire for exceptionally large cock and that her groom comes up short.
But Jim is a good friend of mine and a sometime paramour of Lo’s, so we took added delight in the carnal knowledge that behind all the nuptial vows, the oaths of fidelity, and the pomp of the ring ceremony, both Lily and Jim hadn’t any plans of restricting their bodies and pleasures only to the one legally bound to them.
So, as all the other guests let out gentle expressions of awe and shed a tear in reflection of this display of love and affection, I grinned a wicked little grin as I sipped my expensive scotch.
Lo saw my mischievous look and rubbed her leg up against mine under the table, indicating that she had some ideas of her own.
We both knew Lily and Jim to be swingers and so, when the formalities were over and the dancefloor opened up for revelry, Lo missed no opportunity to scandalize the evening.
We sat at the table next to the newlywed couple. Rather than the usual choice of two entrées, there was a choice of four and so people were passing bites from their plates around for each other to taste.
“You are so generous!” said one guest to me after I let her have a bite of my food.
“Whenever I experience something amazing, I just want others to share in it,” I replied, rubbing Lo’s arm.
“I’m the opposite,” said the young woman to me. “Whenever I find something amazing, I keep it all to myself.” She also rubbed the arm of her partner.
“You can have him,” I thought.
Meanwhile, Lo was seated next to Lily’s Uncle Collin. He arrived to this event without his wife Suzanne and no one blinked an eye about it. The family was used to their “independent” social schedules. This wedding happened after the shenanigans that had taken place at Collin’s mountain cottage, so Lo was very familiar with ‘Uncle Collin’ and his love of young women and his E.D. issues. The whole night, any stranger would have thought that Lo was Collin’s date for the evening. Given the age difference, they might have thought Lo was his hired companion as his FGE – “Full Girlfriend Experience.”
They danced together – marvelously, I might add – and reminisced, quite loudly at the table, about the days at his cottage. He repeatedly alluded to Lo suntanning nude along side Lily, going to a farm and milking goats, and they laughed about how Lo lost her bikini bottoms while tubing behind his boat on the lake.
As they told these stories, Collin gradually drew the other guests at our table into their intimate stroll down Memory Lane. He is charismatic and a good storyteller, but the whole time I was silently fuming, ready to burst out with, “Yeah, you could read all about it on our blog! With photos!!! I wrote it better than he tells it!!!” But I remained silent and let the senior statesmen have the spotlight that he so craved.
He subtly hinted at, without giving too much detail, the nudity, sex, and other debauchery that took place at the cottage. He was in on the secret we shared with Jim and Lily – that they got married prior to this large ceremony to appease their Catholic families and that, though they lived “in sin” prior to the private wedding, Lily was and continues to be an A.O.L. girl (Anal Only Lifestyle).
After Collin regaled them with his tales of titties and sun, one of the young women at our table, noticing Collin’s wedding ring and Lo’s “hotwife” ring, asked, “So you two are. . . married?” She asked it hesitantly, knowing it was an inappropriate question that was only sparked by the gaping age difference between them. Yet the curious guest was inebriated enough to broach the subject and display her incredulity.
“Oh no,” said Lo, laughing and delighting in the twist of the knife that was about to take place, “I’m not married!”
“Oh, so you’re. . . ?” the woman’s half-formulated question hung in the air awkwardly.
“We’re just friends,” said Lo. “This is my partner, HH,” she added, as she put her delicate hand on mine.
The fact that they weren’t married, but had shared so much together, compounded with the fact that Lo was dating another, yet different, older man who was seated right next to her as she laughed about these sexperiences, seemed to blow the mind of our dinner companion.
“Oh,” she said, feigning comprehension, but displaying complete befuddlement.
The band began to play again and Lo begged me to dance with her.
I demurred, saying, “Dancing is emblematic of our relationship. When we dance, you do whatever you want. For me, though, the goal is to have fun. But all you do is criticize and then, when I stop, you criticize because you always have to have an object of your derision. Without it, you feel a tremendous void. And whatever I do – driving, cooking, dancing, cleaning – I’m your eternal object of derision.”
Lo replied, “Well, when dancing, it’s more fun for both partners if one is not stepping on the other’s toes.”
“That’s only possible if you’re dancing solo.”
“You’re right, dancing is emblematic of our whole relationship.”
As harsh as this banter sounds, it was all said lovingly, tongue-in-cheek.
One of our friends at the table overhead us and said, “You two should write a book chronicling your lovers’ quarrels.”
“That’s a great idea!” I replied “That way I could document my long suffering. I could call it, ‘The History of my Calamities,’ after Abelard.”
“Your calamities,” chided Lo, “you should be so lucky to have an Eloise like me!”
Having fully lost our audience with our theological allusions, Collin remarked, “You two have great erotic tension.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but no erotic release.”
“There’s a difference,” said Lo, “between erotic tension and sexual tension.”
“And what is that?” I asked.
“Erotic tension is in your head. And you have a great release for that – the blog. Sexual tension is between your legs and you have a great release for that.”
“What might that be?”
“My puss.”
“How’s your sexual tension?”
“I never have sexual tension,” said Lo casually, “I only have sexual release.”
“I suppose that’s what it means to be ‘a liberated woman.’”
She got up to dance with Collin some more.
Louis Armstrong’s “Just a Gigolo” was being sung by the crooner and Lo, wearing her green velvet dress in honor of the Irish holiday, looked stunning as she twirled and dipped with Collin.
As they kicked up a storm on the dancefloor, one of the women at our table sat next to me. “Aren’t you jealous,” she whispered in my ear. I couldn’t help but think of her as Iago. Though green was the color of the day, it was not the color I was seeing as I watched my Desdemona dance with her Cassio.
“No,” I replied with a smile.
“Not at all?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Want to get some air?” she asked.
“Sure.”
I followed my femme Iago out onto the balcony of the hotel and, though it was freezing in the windy city, she offered me a few puffs from her vape pen. Not wishing to be rude, I accepted.
Suddenly my Shakespearean companion transformed into a jovial leprechaun and the next thing I knew was Lo, Collin, the sexy pixie elf and I were at The Green Mill, a dancehall throwback to the age of Swing. A big band was playing with a tall, lean black trumpeter in the lead. They were pounding out “Tain’t What You Do” as Lo was passed from partner to partner in the crowd that was jumpin’ and jivin’ to the beat.
In my mind, the spotlight was on Lo and her eyes were on the prize – the trumpeter who seemed to be singing the words especially for her, with a peculiar emphasis on them, changing the meaning from, “Tain’t what you do, it’s how you do it” to “Taint, what you do. It’s how you do it.”
“How you feeling now?” asked the leprechaun.
I felt as if a green wave was carrying my Lo further and further out to sea as I was stranded on the shore watching her recede into the distance.
There, far on the horizon, I saw her up by the stage, talking with the trumpeter who was standing, his crotch eye level with Lo’s face. She was looking up at him, saying something.
The band took a break and Lo disappeared, as did the band leader.
Collin returned to the table and I inquired about her whereabouts.
“It’s Saint Patty’s Day!” he said, “The luck of the Irish. I believe that Lo is getting lucky!” He slapped me on the back and bought me another drink that I didn’t need. “When in the Emerald City, anything can happen with a little magic from the Wizard,” he said, removing a teal handkerchief from his jacket pocket that suddenly turned into Lo’s satin panties. He handed them to me and said, “Improbable, yes. Possible, perhaps. With Lo, all is green go-go and Eternal Return of the Dame.”
When I heard these words, I knew that I was slowly losing my grasp on reality.
The last thing I recall from the evening was a Julie London song, “Hey Daddy,” being played by the band as an instrumental number.
When I woke up, I was in my hotel room in the bed and Lo was rising and descending on a large bottle of champagne.
Celebration Time
Groggily I rubbed my eyes and looked at her to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I then said, “Be careful darling, I wouldn’t want that bottle to break.”
“Not to worry. I’m wide, wet, and willing.”
As she proceeded to hump to her heart’s content, she said, “Will you order some breakfast from room service?”
Always the dutiful daddy, I said, “Sure, what do you want.”
“A bowl of Lucky Charms.”
Lo’s Taint
“Lo, you should be more careful about what you say.”
“I know. I had no idea he’d go through with it.”
“He is an admitted sex addict. What did you think would happen?”
This is the conversation that transpired between Lo and me after she received a photo set from her friend Al.
They chat on a regular basis and he loves to penetrate her dark and dirty mind, probing its depths, plumbing its recesses, and discovering what nascent naughty, nasty, nymphomaniacal fantasies, memories, dreams, and reflections he can conjure from there. Their chats are word porn or sex by non-physical means.
Recently Lo told him, “If you want to know how my kinky, perverted mind works, what I think would be really hot is if you would print out my photo, take pics of you jacking off and cumming on it while wearing your wife’s sexy thong panties, then leaving the photo of me and the dirty panties in your wife’s panty drawer to find later. I know you cannot possibly do that, but wow! – that would be hot!”
The suggestion sent his mind spinning and his cock twitching.
A day later, Lo received a photoset from Al: His wife’s thong; Printouts of Lo’s photos; Him jacking off to the photos and the thong; The thong on Al as he is hard-up looking at Lo’s photos; Al jacking off in the thong; Al cumming on one of the photos; Al putting thong and cum-covered photo in his wife’s panty drawer.
The Mrs.’s Panties (dirty)
Al, Lo’s photos, the Mrs.’s panties
Al Wearing the Mrs.’s (dirty) Panties
Al and Lola b&w
Big Al
Al in his wife’s (dirty) panties
Al’s sweet release on Lola’s ass
Hiding the Evidence Where it is Sure to be Found
“Al, won’t you get in big trouble?” asked Lo.
“She has been prancing around the house in her thong and nothing else, asking for a full-body massage, and masturbating to her own stash of porn, but she won’t let me get off. This is my passive-aggressive way of telling her that just because someone slapped me with the label of ‘sex addict,’ that doesn’t mean that I don’t deserve to have my needs met, especially with my wife, whom I adore and desire. It’s COVID times. I’m not allowed out of the house. She has managed to block almost all of my naughty websites (including your blog), and she teases me with her body. It’s like some sort of torture out of A Clockwork Orange!”
“Well, you really got my engine revving!”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I came to those photos about three times this morning before I even got out of bed. Poor HH. I suspect I’m doing the same to him as your wife is doing to you.”
“Again, if you were my wife. . .” he mused.
“I want to hear more! What if I was your wife? What would we do?”
“What would you like to do?”
“I’d like you to go to Victoria’s Secrets and bring one of those photos of me that you printed out. Say to the salesgirl, ‘This is my wife,’ as you show her my photo, ‘and I’d like to buy some panties for her. What do you recommend?’ She would bring you over to the thong section and show you lace, satin, and all sorts of skimpy shapes and colors. You’d get hard just looking at them and her, as she holds each one up for you to choose. You’d pick about a half-dozen. The salesgirl would say, ‘I can ring you up.’ You’d follow her sexy ass to the counter and you’d pay for the panties. But, as she’s putting them into a bag, you’d say, ‘Actually, where’s your fitting room? I’d like to wear these panties home,’ as you remove one from the bag.”
“Lo,” I say to her, “you didn’t tell him to that, did you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she replies, all innocent, “why?”
“Because, you know that at the very first opportunity, he’s going to take a trip to Victoria’s Secrets.”
“I sure hope so!”
“You know what? You two deserve each other!”
I like your red lips.
I like your curvy hips.
I like your pretty smile.
Your eyes drive me wild.
Lo’s Lovely Lips
I like your long brown hair.
I like your seductive stare.
I like your legs spread wide.
You have nothing, nothing to hide.
Los Legs Spread Wide
I like your feet and toes.
I like your meaty folds.
I like your smooth smooth mount,
As your curves kiss my mouth.
Lo’s sexy feet
I like how you smell.
I like how you howl.
I like how you taste.
You’re more than a silhouette’s sleek shape.
Lo’s Silhouette
Drop, drip-drop and let’s have some fun.
Let me into your solo-sex-for-one.
We can enjoy each other’s pleasures,
Heal the pain we caused together.
Lo engaging in solo pleasures
You’re Wendy and I’m Peter Pan.
Let’s fly away to Never Never Land.
Only if you believe, we can find
The Lost Boys, Captain Hook, and stop the Enemy – Time.
As you recall, in honor of Valentine’s Day and to combat pandemic fatigue, we sent complimentary copies of our books to fans far and wide. All we asked in return was a sexy photo with the book in somewhere in the pic and maybe a little story. We got our first story back today from a married gentleman from Canada who used the book as a prop in order to seduce his coworker. Here’s the story in his words.
Northern Gentleman Selfie with Match, Cinder & Spark
I had a work training out of town. People from my company came from different cities and were put up in one hotel. After a full day of training and then dinner in the hotel restaurant, I invited two women and my friend Roy up to my room for a nightcap. The women were Allie and Nicole. I’ve had a crush on both of them for a long time and have flirted with them at other conferences like this.
I was so glad when they agreed to come up for a drink. I knew that I had left your book, Writing Under Cover, out on the nightstand table. The bottle of scotch was on the same table. As I reached for the bottle to fill up their glasses, Nicole noticed the book right away. She was immediately curious and picked it up and began flipping through it.
She asked what it was and I told her about you and HH.
She started reading it and really loved it.
Roy was sitting uncomfortable, probably because he’s older, married, and, I guess, also hard-up.
The two girls were laughing at me and teasing me and started talking about sex. As Nicole was reading the book, I showed Allie your website. She was looking at all the pics of you and the guys, probably including me, who send you tribute photos. Allie was shy and blushing. Then she and Nicole traded, book for web page. After seeing some of the more raunchy photos and reading some of the dark and dirty passages, we started talking about anal sex, blow jobs, and girl-on-girl cunnilingus.
Though they called you a slut and other bad names, after a few drinks they were talking about how they would do dirty things to you, which only served to make Roy and me hard. Roy eventually excused himself and Allie yawned and said it was late, leaving me and Nicole alone with your photos and book.
She said that she didn’t believe you are a true nymphomaniac. I asked her why she’d say that, and she said that nymphos are not happy, but you seem happy and hot.
But then she made fun of me for bringing the book. She said I’m a horny dog and sexaholic.
“Guilty as charged,” I said.
It was dark in the room and she has dark hair, is muscular, petite, and mysterious. She was sitting in a chair next to the bed and picked up the book again and began reading a different chapter. He tongue ran over her lips and I could see her chest heave with a deep breath.
“Do you like erotica?” I asked.
“I don’t usually read it, but this is good.”
“Which part?”
“I’m reading ‘Beauty & the Beasts.’ I like the ending.
Because I had just read the entire book, I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I wasn’t sure which particular kink it was that heightened her excitement.
I asked her to read it to me. She did in an incredibly sexy voice.
She was still naked in bed. “Lo,” I said, “Look here. I took the wrong computer to work today and this is what I found.” I opened the computer screen and showed her the video. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and shook her head denying her guilt. I hit the “back” button and showed her another video and another. Though she tried to deny it with her words, I saw that she was getting excited. I pulled out my leather belt from around my pant waist. “Lo, turn over.” She obeyed. She thrust her little ass in the air. “This is your last chance. Admit it. Admit you were watching those videos last night.”
“Daddy! I wasn’t! I swear.”
WHACK! She got her first spanking.
“Answer truthfully,” I commanded.
“But Daddy, I didn’t.”
WHACK! She got her second spank.
“The truth, Lo. The truth.”
“Daddy,” was all she could say before she got her third. And then she said, “Oh, Daddy, please don’t spank me anymore. Fuck me. Fuck me like a dog. Fuck me like I’m your little bitch and you’re my cur. Fuck me!”
As she read, I approached her in the chair and went to give her a massage on her shoulders. I started softly touching her neck and hair, softly at first, then strongly. I was slowly dominating her.
She read the whole passage. She put the book down and let me reach down, touching her breasts, squeezing, pinching, pulling, twisting her nipples. I could begin to smell her excitement. Her skin was getting moist with sweat. Her chest was heaving. She was moaning. And then she did it. She offered herself to me. She pleaded. “Take me,” she almost whimpered.
But I made her wait in tense anticipation. I told her, “Imagine Lola here with us. She’s in the other seat. Her legs open. Shirt off and bare breasts. She is licking her lips and teeth. Massaging her thighs.”
My voice lowered another notch. I leaned in to whisper in her ear. I commanded her to keep her eyes closed and forget where she is and allow her mind to go back into the book with you. She closed her eyes and opened her legs. She melted as I stood behind her. I said, “I need you to do something for me. Understood?”
She repeated my word in agreement, “Understood.”
In that one word, she communicated that she was offering herself to me – mind, body, and soul.
When I kick into dominant mode, my voice tone lowers and my speech slows down. She knew how to get me into dom zone. She is usually a very strong and independent person, but she suddenly became bashful and weak. Her cheeks and chest were blushing. She asked for permission to stay. She put the closed book between her legs and pressed her thighs together.
She confessed that she had never been with another girl, but that she’d definitely go for you. She said she loved your character. I said, “She’s no character. She’s real. She did all of that nasty, dirty stuff. I know.”
“You want me to be dirty?” she asked. Her tone indicated she was praying to have me say Yes.
I walked around the front of the chair and looked at her deeply in her eyes.
“Is it warm in here?” she asked as she removed her top.
I was sitting on the bed in front of her and I told her to put her hands down her pants and get off.
Her small, perky tits reminded me that she is half my age. I was rock hard looking at that gorgeous angel sitting before me, masturbating to my command. But, before she came, I told her to stop. She looked up, confused. I asked her to go to her room and continue masturbating, edging, and to text me when she couldn’t take it anymore.
She stood up. I put the book in her hands and told her I read it all already and I want her to have it. I told her to walk to her room without putting her top back on.
She obeyed.
About a half hour later I got a text saying she is getting crazy and needs to cum.
I called her back and talked her through a powerful orgasm.
There you have it, our first Valentine’s Day Pandemic Promotion fan mail.
Harder
His name is Al and he is a sex-addict.
“Hi Al.”
He writes to Lo on the sly. “You are my favorite slut.”
“I’m everyone’s favorite slut,” she quips back.
“I have a sex addiction. My wife keeps me under lock and key.”
“If I were married to you, I would not only allow your sex addiction, I’d be your #1 drug.”
“I have no doubt,” says Al. “But why are you such a slut? What explains it?”
Al and Lo
“My man, HH, he is a great guy, but we’re about 30 years apart and I’m a little slutty nympho who drains him of all he’s got.”
“Now you’re begging the question.”
“I never beg, except for cum.”
“So you’re a sex-addict too.”
“Addicts go to meetings. I prefer to say I’m sex-positive.”
“What is it you want?” he asks.
“I want my pussy pounded,” she replies.
“Besides that.”
Al and Lo
“There’s only one thing a woman wants from a man as he pounds her pussy. She wants it harder.”
“I guess I was asking a different question. I was asking about something deeper.”
“Yes – harder and deeper.”
“Let me ask the question this way: Isn’t there a down-side to too much sex.”
“Yes!” says Lo excited. “I was just saying this to HH last night. I let him have my ass and he said, ‘You’re so loose.’ I told him, ‘You’re the fifth guy I’ve had up in there today and not the largest by a long shot! I can’t even feel you.’ There you have it. That definitely is a down-side. The Lola Down side of Lola’s backside, if you will.”
“The fifth cock?! What are you, a prostitute?”
“I’m just your local neighborhood nympho. Word gets around.”
“Do you date these guys or just fuck them?”
“Dating is a journey, usually with a destination. I just enjoy the ride.”
“You are one exceptional woman!”
“I prefer sexceptional.”
“How would you characterize your relationship with HH?”
“He is my rock, I am his Circe. Or maybe his Pasiphae.”
“What does that mean?”
“Look it up.”
“You two have a good sex-life?”
“I Fuck HH when he’s up for it, flirt with others when he’s not.”
“Is that what you’re up to now? – flirting with me?”
“No, I’m fucking you.”
“What?”
“With my mind. You know I can orgasm without even touching myself?”
“Are you cumming now?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
[Long silent pause.]
“There,” says Lo, proudly.
“You just came?”
“Yep.”
“It seemed, well, a little anticlimactic.”
“Not for me. Want to see?”
“Yeah.”
Lo spreads her legs to reveal the wet spot soaked through the crotch of her jeans.
Wet Spot
“Wow! Now what are you going to do about that?”
“About what?”
“Your jeans being all wet?”
“Enjoy it.”
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“You mean, in addition to that?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, shoot.”
“Why are you with HH?”
“Nothing better than a nymphomaniac and a dirty old man.”
“You call yourself a hotwife, but you’re not married. Why don’t you get married?”
“Have you ever read the letters of Eloise and Abelard?”
“I haven’t. Who are they?”
“Look it up. Anyhow, she was ahead of her time when she said to him, ‘I’d rather be your whore than your wife.’”
“And that’s how you feel?”
“That’s how we both feel.”
“Wow!”
“What?”
“That’s a radical take on marriage.”
“Well, I have met enough guys like you who entered into a marriage, but is it a marriage or a mirage?”
“Point taken.”
“Can I see a photo of your wife?”
“Why?”
“I like to know what my competition looks like.”
[He sends a nude photo of his wife.]
“There. What do you think?”
“I understand why you’re a sex-addict. She’s super sexy!!!”
“I wish she had your open mind to match her body.”
“More than my mind is open to her body.”
“Has COVID impacted you at all?”
“Yeah, a lot. That’s why I’m here chatting with you now. Most of my flirting and fucking has to be virtual these days.”
“What about the five guys from yesterday? Are they in your bubble?”
“They sure were yesterday! Far in. You could say that I am the original super-spreader – in a good way, of course!”
“In only the best way!”
Lo Super Spreader
[Dear Lovlies, this story was published in the February 2021 issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. If you would like to get your free Match, Cinder & Spark book, send us an email at: downloladown@gmail.com]
“Well, Darling, I guess it’s just you and me: Santa and his little sexy elf,” I said to her as she snuggled up to me under my arm on the couch. She was still wearing her sleek red dress and nothing else. We had the fire going (on the T.V. thanks to Netflix).
Lola’s Good Cheer
“It was a nice day,” she said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.
We both knew it wasn’t like Christmases past. It was COVID Christmas. No kissing friends and strangers under the mistletoe or unwrapping presents with a large crowd looking on to see your reaction to their gift.
We had spent the day delivering goodies to friends and family, driving all around town, making stops from noon until nine at night. Each stop was accompanied by a little chat outside in the brisk air with a shot or two to warm us up. It was good to see familiar faces and bring them gifts, even if we couldn’t hug, kiss, dance, or sit in their comfortable living rooms for some schnapps and grog.
We were determined to make the day as special as we could. Now that we were home (and a little tipsy) I told her she could look under the tree to see what Santa had brought for her.
“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.
“Which gets me more gifts?” she asked as she rummaged under the tree and found the little box I had carefully hidden.
She immediately knew what it was. She opened it extremely carefully. The diamond ring was illuminated by a tiny light that automatically turned on when the ring box was opened. It looked magical in the dimly lit room. The cute case glowed with an aura of heavenly mystique.
“Oh Daddy!” she said, giving me a big kiss. “How did you know?”
She was being very facetious since she had designed the piece of jewelry, ordered it, and tracked its delivery. All I did was pass her my credit card and then wrap it when it arrived.
“Is there anything there for me?” I asked.
“Yes, there is. Wait here and come into the bedroom when I call you.”
A few moments went by before her sing-song voice invited me in.
She was wearing a new red satin negligée. “My Santa suit. Second only to my birthday suit.” She spread her legs to reveal that she also had shaved.
Lola’s present for Daddy
“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.
“You know what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”
“You’ve been hanging around me too long. Leave the puns to dads who like dad jokes.”
“Do you like, Daddy?” she asked as she gently tugged at her pussy lips.
“Very much.”
“You’re not hard to please. You know that?”
“Yes, but when you please me, I am hard.”
“Show me! Let me drink your eggnog.”
“Your ring looks good on your finger,” I remarked as she stroked herself.
“Yes, now maybe you’ll make me a proper hotwife!”
“Oh no, Lo. I can’t make a descent woman out of you. You’ve spent a lifetime cultivating being an indecent woman.”
“True. But you know, either way, I’m happy. Deep, deep inside, I’m happy. And you can be too.”
“Be happy?”
“No, deep, deep inside me.”
She stood up from the bed, bent over, and looked at her exposed rear in the full-length mirror behind her. “It’s weird,” she said, “how horny I get looking at myself naked.”
I have to admit, she had me excited just looking at her like that.
I fumbled to remove my pants as she pouted, “Daddy, I just can’t wait.”
As swiftly as I could, I slid into her impatient peonies petals, already wet with dew.
Within moments she sensed the inevitable and spun around in order to receive her reward.
Though that may have been my climax, it is not the climax of our story.
Drunk on my cum, she looked up at me and asked, “Which part did you like the most: the first ten seconds or the last ten seconds?”
“Hey, I might have been fast, but what or who can give that much pleasure in so short a time?”
“Are you talking about my ability to give pleasure or yours? Never mind. I’ll show you what can give even more pleasure,” she said as she reached under the bed to take out her Hitachi.
Lo gushes for her mechanical lover
As she was on her solo journey to Pleasure Town, I pulled out my laptop and read a few emails written to our shared downloladown account. There were a number of thank you notes from the men, women, and couples who had received our “XXX-mas” gifts – a free Match, Cinder & Spark book or audiobook.
It was nice to hear from our fans that we helped cheer them up in this otherwise dismal time.
After Lo had ‘spouted off’ in the best possible way, she sat up to look over my shoulder. Glancing at the screen, I sensed she was a bit disappointed.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, it’s something Lo. What is it?”
“Just the thought that put me over the edge was that you were looking at photos of me, not reading emails.”
“Well, it’s the next-best-thing. They’re emails about you. Besides, why would I look at photos of you on my computer when you’re lying next to me vibrating your va-jay-jay till the levee breaks?”
“Exactly! And why would you be reading emails when you have this at your disposal?!” she said, slapping her sloppy puss for emphasis.
Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Do you think it was egomaniacal of me to give my own books as a Christmas gift?”
“I think it’s egomaniacal of you to write those books.”
“That wasn’t egomaniacal. That was a gift to humanity.”
“Never have I seen such a self-satisfied narcissist!”
“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”
“Shut up and pass me Glindo,” she said, referring to her glass dildo that was next to me on the nightstand.
Lo and ‘Glindo’
“Why? What are you up to now?” I asked, seeing her with her legs spread wide on the bed, dildo in hand.
“Nothing, but I’m open to doing something.”
“What are you open to doing?”
“You.”
“Now?”
“Well, after I do myself.”
“Again?”
Never one for false modesty, she implored, “Read to me some of the things people are saying about the book.”
“While you jill it?”
“Yeah, it’s a turn-on to know that I get guys hard and women wet.”
“Well, one person called you a slut and said that you do all this just for attention.”
“That is not true,” she said emphatically, “being a slut is its own reward.”
“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”
She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.
Overcome by her perspicuous paramour, Lo lunged forward with a long, lusty moan.
As she recovered from her self-inflicted squirt, I asked her, “Do you think we should do it again for Valentine’s Day?”
“I’m hoping we’ll do it long before then!”
“I mean a free book for fans.”
“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake. “Sure. Maybe we could ask our readers to send in their Valentine’s Day stories and send a free book to the top ten that we publish.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Photos are also welcome,” she added. “Now do me, Daddy. I’ve only had two orgasms tonight and you know I need at least three.”
“Lo, you really are a slut for attention!”
“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.”
Be My Valentine