The Wife’s Panty Drawer

“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.

Al, middle aged, married, man-about-town, and confessed, convicted, and constantly surveilled sex addict, has discovered one outlet for all his pent-up concupiscence: Lola.

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!”

Valentine’s Day Pandemic Promotion Fan Mail

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.

99 Problems: A Valentine’s Day Tale

[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

Sex Drive

Our first date flopped.  Cooped up since March due to COVID, Lo was complaining that she hadn’t been on a date in “forever.”

“What about the brothers?  Don’t they count?”  I asked, referring to the two boys from across the street who had been making regular house calls to Lo’s bedroom to unload their pent-up pandemic sexual frustration with the help of Lola’s pussy.

“Those aren’t dates, Daddy.  Those are booty calls.  Pity fucks.  Besides, they’re so young and inexperienced that there isn’t even sexual tension buildup.  It’s all just ram-and-release.”

“You seem to like it.”

“Oh, I love it, for what it is.”

“So, what is it you want?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“My only wish is to please you.”

“That’s good because my only wish is to be pleased.  I want to go on a proper date.”

“So Meri also doesn’t count?”

“Well, she did count, but we dated before COVID.”

“I assume I don’t count.”

“Oh Daddio, you do count.  You count the number of men and women I fuck.”

“I can’t count that high.”

“I’ll buy you an abacus.”

“Is that the thing with the beads on it?”

“Yes.”

“That you put in your ass?”

“No.  That’s a different thing.”

Not an Abacus

“Oh.”

“I want to go on a date with a couple.”

“A couple?”

“Yeah, a married couple.”

“You have anybody in mind.”

“Daddy, I always have many bodies in mind.”

“Any particular bodies for your date?”

“Yes.  There’s a married couple that is trying to get the ole flame flickering again.”

“Let me guess, you think that you can help his wick to grow.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Where’d you find this couple?”

“They found me.”

“Not another ad!”

“No, Daddy.  They have been reading the blog.”

“What are their names?”

“Ron and Nicole.  She’s a schoolteacher.  He’s a lawncare person.”

“Interesting.  And how are you going to go on a ‘date’ in COVID?”

We.  We are going on a date.  You and me with them.”

“Again, how?”

“Do you like drive-in movies?”

“Haven’t been to one in ages.  Why?”

“Well, it will be like a drive-in.”

“How so?”

“We’ve picked a place to meet and they’ll go in their car and we’ll go in ours.”

“And?”

“That’s it.  We’ll see where we go from there.”

Skank Suit

We pulled up in the vacant parking lot.  It was cold out for November.  Ron and Nicole pulled up to our right in a late model Cadillac.  Ron rolled down his window.  Lola rolled down hers.  They smiled at each other.

“Hi Lola,” called Nicole from the passenger seat.

“Hi Nicole,” responded Lola.  I waved, foolishly, and smiled politely.

We could see our breath as the winterlike air flowed into the cabin.

My car has bucket seats.  Lo and I couldn’t physically be right next to each other.

Their car had a bench front seat.  Nicole slid over to Ron.  They were in their early to mid-forties, I’d say.  She was pretty.  He was smaller in frame than I had imagined.  They were clearly there to see Lo perform.

Lola stripped naked in the car, but with the windows rolled up, soon the glass was covered in condensation.  Ron and Nicole couldn’t see anything.  The more Lo tried, the more foggy the windows got.

Lo rolled down the window, which had the benefit of allowing Ron and Nicole to see her and to make her nipples very hard.  But they could only see so much.

Lo opened the car door to expose below her chest.  She swiveled and spread her legs, putting her feet up on the seat and fapping her wet pussy.  The couple in the car next to us seemed to enjoy the show, but even I was cold, so I can imagine how chilly Lo’s hairless crotch must have been!

I could see that Nicole had Ron’s cock in her right hand and was stroking it as Lo stroked herself.

That didn’t last long.  Lo was shivering.  The cold air on her nipples made them hard.  The downdraft on her bare pussy gave it goosebumps.  Pretty to look at, but no amount of caressing, slapping, or fingering could dispel the chill.

After about a half-hour of trying, we called it off and said we’d try again another time.

On the ride home, the heat blasting, I put on Poe’s “Hey Pretty.”  The seductive lyrics sang:

 

Hey pretty

Don’t you want to take a ride with me?

Through my world

 

Lo leaned over and said, “Can I just be your cock-warmer?”

“Cock-warmer?  What is that?”

“You just let your cock rest in my mouth.”

Cock-Warming

“We both know that there’s no ‘just’ with you.  Especially after this.”

“I’ll tell you what, you drive and I’ll give you the longest unzipping of your life.”

But just then our little late night drive took a strange turn.

We had just got home and I could tell by the look in her eye she was up to no good.

She walked in the front door wearing that little strumpet outfit she had put on for her audience and, not getting to give the show she had planned for them, she was ready to perform for me.  A bad, naughty little performance for a packed house of one.

She pranced into the living room in her heels, black leather skirt, no panties, leather jacket, sheer blouse beneath revealing her hard nipples.  She turned on the music: Machine Gun Kelly, “Bad Things.”  It was as if she had been waiting her turn in the strip club and the DJ finally got around to her set list.

The blinds were all open as she did her little COVID Cabaret.

“Did you like seeing me in the car tonight, Daddy?”

“I did,” I said as I sat down on the couch to watch her.

“What did you like about it?”

“Your willingness to make a couple happy.  I always say your generous nature is your best quality.”

“I have a lot of good qualities.”

“True.”

“And a lot of bad thoughts.”

“Do tell.”

“If you only knew the bad things I like,” she sang along with the song.

She lifted her skirt above her ass as she bent over by the window.

“Well, Daddy, are you going to give it to me?”

I stood up and came close to her.  I began undoing my pants, but she stopped me.

“No,” she said, “your belt.  Give it to me.”

“Punishment?”

“Yes.”

She assumed the position, bracing for it.

I pulled out my long black leather belt, bent it in half, grabbed both ends in one hand and gently let it fall upon her flesh.

“Oh, come on,” she mocked.  “Harder.”

“I gave her a mild whack.

“Harder.  Wasn’t I bad Daddy?  Wasn’t it wrong of me to arrange this COVID dogging session?”

I gave her a strong spank with the strap.  It made a clear cracking on her ass.  Her body convulsed as if she was surprised by it.  Then she said, “Yesss, that’s it.”

I gave her another.

We hadn’t engaged in this sort of play for a long time.

“You were bad,” I said, reflecting upon it.  “Dressed scantily in public like that.  Like a little skank.”

“That’s right.”

I gave her a harder smack.  I could see the outline of the belt in a red line left on her skin, even in the dim light.
“Again.”

I gave it to her again.

“Harder.”

She got another harder.

“I wish that the three of you could be doing this to me.  You, Ron, Nicole.”

I gave her another WHACK!

“I wish I was tied to a pole naked (except my heels of course) and each of you had a strap to take turns on my body.”

“Why?” I asked as I inflicted another, harder lick of the leather.

“Cause I can take it.  Cause I like it.”

“Why?”

WHAP!

“Because I deserve it.”

SMACK!

“Because I’m so, so bad.”

I gave her one last, forceful spank with the belt before she said our safe word.  She turned around.  There were tears in her eyes.  She reached out her arms and hugged me.  She wrapped her legs around mine.  She was holding on for dear life.

“I hate this pandemic!” she said, weeping.

She slowly descended, her body crumpling around my legs.  She was on the floor, hugging my shins, crying, weeping, naked.

“Come,” I said, helping her up.  “Let me apply some aftercare.”

Spank Me Daddy

I led her to the bedroom where I gently laid her out on the bed, face down.  I went into the bathroom and got out the baby oil.  I puddled some in my palm, rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and gently caressed it over her glowing red ass, sore from the spanking she received.

“Owweeemmmmmm,” she purred, her cry of pain turning to a hum of pleasure.

I made small gentle circles with my palms on her ass cheeks.  I slid my fingers between her ass cleavage.  I ran my fingertips up and down her crotch gently.  I revolved my index finger around her special spot, slowly descending into it, one knuckle at a time until fully submerged.  She moaned with pleasure.  In-and-out I went, first with one finger then with two.  I curled them and fingered her ass much the way I would finger her pussy.

Her body mimicked the motions of an inchworm, rising in the middle and then descending.  Up-and-down.  Faster my fingers slip-sliding in-and-out, until she said, “There!  Stay.  Deep.  Hold it!”  She came.  I could see her pussy juices dribbling down her thighs.  Her ass clenched up on my fingers.  Her body was motionless for a moment before the waves of involuntary convulsions shuttered across the surface from feet to shoulders.

Her sphincter released and I slid my fingers out with ease.

To my shock she was asleep.

I was hard, but happy.  My deepest desire is to please her.

As She Likes It

“Glass of water please Daddy” – read the text I had received from Lo.

I got up off the couch where I was distractedly trying to read a tome on Arthur Schopenhauer’s theory on Beauty and the Sublime.  I had just arrived at his discussion of “the stimulating” and “the charming.”  Of course I began thinking about my little Lo dressed for a night out. I recalled how one night at a bar, responding to an admirer who said she was dressed to kill, she said, “I’m just a sexy brunette in a little black dress and nothing else but my killer personality.”  She then proceeded to lift the hem of her little black dress to demonstrate the truth of that statement and thereby disarmed the patron completely.

Lo in and out of her little black dress

Schopenhauer was arguing how objects that stir the appetite are inappropriate subjects for art since their effect is counter to that of disinterested aesthetic contemplation.  I was in the middle of making a note in the margin of the well-worn book, arguing with the German curmudgeon on just that point, when I received the text.

Lo was in the bedroom with the brothers.  I was irritated because it was the third time that week that they had come over to use Lo as their personal pleasure provider and leave her after they had made her their cumdump.

I knocked lightly on the door before letting myself in.  Lo was stretched out on the bed and I had entered just as the boys were in the process of switching places, tag-team style.

Contemplation of Beauty

Lo looked at the glass of ice water I had in my hand and said, “Can you put it in my water-bottle with a straw dear?”

I left the room without closing the door.  I poured the contents of the glass into her hydro flask, closed it, and returned.  It was then that I noticed how soaked the sheets were.

“Thanks,” she said, reaching up and taking the bottle from my hands, drinking large sips immediately while one of the brothers – the one deep inside her spread legs – didn’t even relent a little bit with his jackrabbit thrusting at her thighs while she imbibed.  I’m not sure he noticed I was there.  I’m not even sure he noticed that Lo existed above her hips.

I left the room.

After the boys were done, about a half-hour later, and had returned to their home across the street, Lo sauntered into the living room and, laying down a terrycloth towel on the couch first, sat on it naked next to me.

“Watcha reading?”

“Schopenhauer.”

“Who?”

“Arthur Schopenhauer.”

“Is it interesting?”

I put my bookmark between the pages and looked up at Lo.

“You know there’s a difference between spreadeagle and starfish, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, there’s a difference between being used in a good way and simply providing maintenance sex.”

“I thought maintenance sex was a phrase married people use,” she said.

“It doesn’t have to be limited to just hetero married monogamous couples going through the monotony of the same-old same-old.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m just going through the motions for the boys?”

“If I saw motions, I would say yes.  But what I saw was you, starfish on the bed, as they popped in and out.”

“Well, I enjoyed it,” she protested stubbornly.

“OK,” I said, before opening my book again.

“And it’s more than I’ve been getting from you!”

“OK,” I repeated, removing the bookmark.

“And they like it.”

“OK,” I said a third time as I began reading.

She grabbed the book out of my hands.  “Talk to me!”

“What do you want me to say?”

“You clearly have opinions.”

“And you clearly think my opinions are wrong.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear them.”

“If you like it, and they definitely like it, then who am I to stop you.  You just looked. . . bored.”

“Well, they’re not legendary lovers.”

“So why do you do it?”

“I like to please.”

“They use you like a kinky fuckdoll.”

“I aspire to be a kinky fuckdoll.”

“Congrats!”

“Sometimes I like to be dominated.  Sometimes I like to be worshiped.  But sometimes I just like to be used.”

“Seems to me that they could dominate, worship, and use a Fleshlight just the same as they do you.”

“Are you jealous, Daddy?  Is that what this is?”

She cuddled up to me closer.  She reached down for my cock.  I could smell the cum on her.

“Oh,” she said, “I see.  You need to use me.  Well, come on.”

“Looks like you’ve already been cum on.”

“That’s no reason to deprive yourself.”

She undid my pants and pulled them down around my ankles.  She moved my book.  She got on her knees between my legs and began licking my cock.

“You know, before they left, they both had their cocks out above my head,” she said as she took my hard cock in her hand and whacked its heft against her cheek.

“I bet you loved that.”

“A gal just likes to be appreciated.”

She stood up and bent over, showing me her ass.

I spanked her.

“Yes, Daddy!  Yes. Again.  I was bad.  Can you see their cum dripping out?  I can feel it.  It feels so good.  Spank the slut out of me.”

I smacked her bottom until her ass was glowing red.

At that moment I heard the doorbell ring and someone walk into the house.

“Lo, the door is open!”

“It’s ok, I’m waiting for a special delivery.”

In walked one of the brothers.  Was it Roy or Gary?  I never can tell them apart.

Lo looked up at him, “He never succeeds in spanking the slut out of me and we’re both ok with that.”

The kid laughed as he walked over to us to put the package he was carrying down on the coffee table.  “My mom says thanks,” he said just as Lo lowered her bum onto my hard cock.  The kid watched.  He had never seen anyone but his brother fuck Lo before.  Lo was bobbing up and down.

“You left the door open?” I asked Lo.

“My love is an open door,” she replied.

“You have the sexiest body,” the smitten scaramouche said.

“I bet you say that to all the sluts,” replied Lo as she reached down to rub her clit.

Lo gestured that she wanted the voyeur to come closer.  He did.  She unzipped his pants and took his cock in her mouth.  I was going at her from behind.

A moment later, the other brother entered.

“Roy!  What are you doing?  Mom’s waiting for you,” he said, nonplussed by the sight of the three of us.

“She can wait a minute,” said Roy to Gary.

Lo used her right hand to indicate that she wanted Gary to approach.  He did.

“Get behind me,” she said, turning in such a way as to allow Roy to enter her ass as Gary entered her puss and I, odd-man-out, was left standing over the six-legged, six-armed, three-headed beast.

“Don’t just stand there,” she said to me.  “I have enough holes to fulfill all the demand.”

I was welcomed into her warm mouth.

Keep in mind, this was all happening in the living room with the blinds open.

I was the first to cum, ejaculating deep in the back of Lo’s throat, as she likes it.

Then Gary pulled out and stood in front of Lo and came on her face, as she likes it.

Finally, Roy pulled out of her ass and stood in front of her as she kneeled on the hardwood floor.  She took his cock in her mouth and sucked long and hard, fondling his balls from below with her hand and grabbing his ass from behind with her other hand to pull him in to fill her up orally.

He pulled back at the last crucial second and said, “Lie back!”

Lo did a spread eagle on the floor as Roy grabbed his cock with his right hand and rained down on her naked body, as she likes it.

The boys pulled up their pants and beat a hasty goodbye.

Lo, cum-covered and stretched wide, slowly got up.

“You know, Lo,” I said, scolding her, “anyone and everyone can see you from the outside.”

She replied with a curt, “Externalities.”

“What?”

“An unintended beneficial consequence bestowed on third-parties,” she said as if reciting from a dictionary.

“Where’d you learn that economic theory?”

“I do have a college education, Daddy,” she said bitingly.

“Oh, by that you mean you learned it in my class?”

“You’re not the only person who has something to teach me, you know.”

“Apparently not.”

“Now, did that look like maintenance sex to you?”

“Yes.”

“What?!”

“It was enough to help maintain your rapacious appetite.”

“Barely enough.”

“You know, darling, you are a walking, talking, fucking rebuttal to Schopenhauer’s aesthetic theory.”

“If that’s your way of saying I look beautiful, then, thanks!”

“I’m saying more than you look beautiful.  I’m saying, you are a work of art.”

Lola as a work of art

Sore, but not Satisfied

We watched Boogie Nights up until the scene where the newbie pornstar, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg) is filmed by the seasoned director, Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), making love to his wife, Maggie/“Amber Waves” (Julianne Moore).  At that point, Lo was too turned on from watching the movie while cock-warming me to continue.  We retired into the bedroom where she proceeded to ask me, “I bet you’d like to film me auditioning all those men who want to be pornstars, wouldn’t you Daddy?”

“I thought you were sore?” I asked her, referring to her masturbation marathon earlier in the day.

“Sore, but not satisfied.  Fuck me.  I like it when it hurts.”

I slid in her slippery snatch and she moaned with pleasure and pain.

“I think you’d like to be auditioning them,” I responded to her.

By the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head, I could tell that the image of her being the older seductress, seducing young, aspiring actors, getting them to break through the role and into the authentic enjoyment of her body, was turning her on.

While her fantasyland role was screening in the adult theater of her dark and dirty mind, my own thoughts were scrawling across my cerebrum.  Since I had cum on my own earlier that day, my stamina was augmented.  I had plenty of time, while Lo bounced up-and-down on my rod to the beat of her own drum, to explore the following musings.

I began with Boogie Nights and the thought of how, yes, Lo was right, I could easily see myself in the role of the director, Jack Horner, filming his own wife as she slept with various pornstars.  Turning her lustful liaisons into works of art was already my forte.  My mind then turned to the late, great Orson Welles and his love affair infatuation with Oja – his muse, mistress, and movie star of films such as F for Fake, and The Other Side of the Wind.  A documentary about the making of the latter movie came out a couple years ago and in it, those who were on set with Welles recalled how he wanted to film, at great length, a pornographic sex scene starring Oja with Robert Random (actual actor’s name).  Perhaps the aging Welles (he was between 55 and 61 while making it) took delight in seeing his young mistress (she was between 24 and 30 while making it) getting delight from a younger man who could give it to her.  Sounds familiar.

“Deeper, Daddy, please,” she whined as she rode me, startling me out of my musings.

I opened my eyes and saw her pulling at her nipples over me.  “Am I your pornstar?” she asked.

I tried to meet her descending hips with ascending thrusts of my own.  She needed to feel the tip of my shaft on that magic spot deep inside her.  If I were larger, longer, harder, I would press that button without even trying.  But, alas, that was not the case.

Frankie Shaw

 

Frankie Shaw

 

Frankie Shaw using her Instagram to expose herself

Her question turned my thoughts from directors making their muses the material of art, to that wannabe pornstar who used her creative powers of writer, director, and actor to live out her clear fantasy of being fucked on camera.  Frankie Shaw, in her series SMILF, used every opportunity to get naked, get laid, and get herself off in her show.  I wondered how her husband, Zach Strauss, enjoyed watching her perform completely gratuitous sex scenes on the show.  Let’s be clear, none of her sexpoloits were essential to the story – from her fantasy gangbang in the pilot where she is fucked by a basketball team of black men, to her seducing the boy she babysat, to the creepy scenes of her naked in a bathtub with her fictional child.  None of that advanced the plot in a way that it couldn’t have done without those scenes.  But, given the creative license she had, she used it to be as licentious as she could, making her the star – the pornstar.

Frankie Shaw from her Instagram being exhibitionist in her neighborhood during COVID

Lo wasn’t cumming.  She got up, off of me and commanded, “Get behind me and fuck me, hard!”  She was on all fours on the bed and needed me to stand up, perpendicular to her, as she looked in the full-length mirror before her, watching us fuck, as she might watch a porno.

“Come on, Daddio!  Really ram it home,” she called over her shoulder.

I thrust at her with all I had.  I was panting, sweating, wondering if my back was going to be sore for a week.

Mercifully, she began to cum.  I could feel her pussy clenching, preparing to eject me and ejaculate.  Her voice was insistent.  “Cum!  Cum!” she demanded, knowing that there were mere seconds left before I wouldn’t be able to remain deep inside her.

Enjoy your erotic reading.

“Where do you want me to cum?”

“Inmeinmeinmeinme!”

I don’t do well with cumming on command.  If she had said, “Whatever you do, don’t cum,” then there would have been no problem.  Besides, I had, at her recommendation, already cum once that day.  I was near my limit.

Frankie Shaw gets nailed by the boy she baby sat in SMILF

It was already too late.  The torrent had been unleashed.  The spillage had gushed down her legs and now the dam was about to break, flooding me right out of her.

Frankie Shaw stars in a porno

Her legs were quivering and she was pounding the bed with her fist as she screamed “FUCK!  FUCK!  FUCK!”

I backed up and watched the demonic possession take hold as she lost control of her faculties, senses, bodily movements, and sanity.

Her orgasms are simultaneously a full-body and out-of-body experience.  They are sublime to watch, in the full sense of that word: terrifyingly beautiful.

The bed covers were drenched; her body lifeless on top of the mess she had made.

Frankie dreams of Lola

Scene from SMILF
Not necessary, Right?
How did this get approved?

 

Slowly, her breathing steadied and resumed regularity.

She rolled over as if she had been hit by a Mac truck.

“Wow!” was all she said.  And then, a little while later, “I won’t be able to walk, sit, or cross my legs tomorrow!”

Frankie Shaw getting off to Lola Down

“I guess you’ll just have to lie in bed all day.”

“That’s ok, it’s my favorite place to be and my favorite position.”

She got off the bed and began cleaning up the sodden bedding, throwing all of it in the laundry basket.

“Feeling better?”

“You didn’t cum,” she had the gall to complain.

“I did, just not with you.”  I knew that remark would piss her off.

She gritted her teeth and growled at me.

“You told me to fuck Stoya, remember?”

“But on these short days in January, I really needed an injection of vitamin D, if you know what I mean.”

“It would have just come out in the wash anyhow.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

She thought for a moment.  “I like to have the power to make you ejaculate on command.”

“Talk about a control freak.  I did ejaculate on command – your first command.  You told me to jack off while you masturbated to oblivion.”

“But I thought you knew the Golden Rule: Love thy woman as thyself.”

“Oh, is that the rule?  I thought you said it was: Love thyself and often.”

“That’s my rule.  Not yours.”

“So, why did you tell me to go away instead of letting me watch?”

“Well, you made me jealous when looking at all those women.”

You’re the one who wanted to look at them with me!”

“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissively.  “I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Oh, so it had nothing to do with being turned on by them?”

“There was that too.  But now I feel so slutty.”

“You should.”

“No, Daddy.  I mean, not only was I cheating on you. . .”

“It’s not really ‘cheating’ if I know about it and condone it.”

“I was corresponding with a guy online.”

“Today?”

“Yeah, well, like every day.”

“And?”

“His name is John.  I call him my internet boyfriend.”

“I think you mentioned him to me.”

“And I was cheating on him with another guy.  Or maybe I was cheating on the other guy with John.  I don’t know.  It all gets so confusing.”

“Let me see your other boyfriends.”

She showed me their cumtribute photos.

“Looks like I have stiff competition!”

Lola

Masturbation Marathon

Lo and I were in the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch.  She was looking at her phone.  I sat with my laptop open, reading emails, when suddenly, up popped an email in our shared account.  Unlike most of our fan mail, it wasn’t directed to Lo, it was addressed to me.  And it had a few photos attached.  Sexy photos.  Of my female fan.

“What are you looking at?” Lo asked, never one to be unobservant.

“Nothing,” I clumsily lied.

“What do you mean nothing?”

“Just an email,” I said, telling the truth, trying to pass it off as nothing.

“Let me see,” she said, scooting over, closer to me, suspicious.

How does she do that?  How does she know when something is amiss?

My heart was racing.  She gets so jealous.

There was nothing to do but give in to the inevitable.

I showed her the email and the photos.

“Nothing huh?  Who is she?”

“I don’t know.  I really don’t.  Just a fan.  A connoisseur of fine literature.  A grateful reader.  A woman of exquisite taste in art.”

“You really don’t know who she is?”

“I swear.”

“She just wrote to you for the first time?”

“Yes.”

“You haven’t carried on a correspondence with her?”

“No, absolutely not.”

“You like her?”
“What do you mean, like her?”
“You find her attractive?”

That is a very dangerous question.  The female author of the epistle in question was, in point of fact, appealing.  As her missive made clear, she was a wife and mother whose sex life had fallen fallow in the past few years as the children occupied more of her time and energy.  But reading about my sex life with Lola had rekindled something deep down inside her and she just wanted to show me exactly where it was rekindled.

“She’s not unattractive,” I said, attempting to be as neutral as possible.

“Let’s play a little game,” said Lo.  I was quizzical.  “I’ll go through photos of our fans and you tell me if you find them sexy.  But let’s do it in the bedroom.”

“What?”

“Yeah, just be honest,” she said as she walked down the hall.

“Are you trying to get me deeper in the hole?” I asked, following behind her.

“Depends on which hole you mean.”

GULP.

“Let’s start,” she said as she took out her computer and went to her special stash of emails and photos.  She unzipped my pants and grabbed onto my flaccid member as she pulled up photo after photo.  Honestly, I was too scared to get hard.

After about five or ten, she paused and looked at me a moment.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Lo, you know perfectly well what’s wrong.  For years now, you’ve made the nature of our relationship clear.  Now you want me to look at other women?  I think that I’m being set-up.”

“No no no,” she said with a smile.  “I’m just feeling like changing things up a bit.”

“You know, I could get just as hard looking at photos of men who’ve sent you cumtributes.”

“Well, maybe I’ll throw in a few of those as well.  But don’t be bashful.  Let’s keep on playing.”

She scrolled through scores of sexy photos and, for each one she gave me a bit of backstory, telling me the names of each woman and a bit of bio.

“That’s Floss,” she said.

“Yes, I know Floss,” I responded as she went through photo after sexy photo of her.

Floss and Match, Cinder & Spark

“And this is Karla.”

“I know Karla too.  In fact I wrote about her.”

Just Floss

“Yes, that’s right.  Did you know her hubby, Chris, gets off to me when he has her at home?”

Karla and Chris

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“This is the author, Larry Archer’s wife.”

“Is she a fan?”

“I don’t know, but I’m a fan of hers. . . and his!”

“And this is. . .”  The list went on-and-on.  With each new set of photos that Lo opened from her password-protected fap file, she grew a little more excited.  If she was a guy (and she sure acts like one), she would have had a raging hard-on at this point.  I have no doubt that her clit was fully tumid.  She was reaching for it.

Karla over the years

Karla’s husband Chris getting off to Lola

“Um, can you give me a minute?” she asked.

“What?”

“Here,” she said, passing me the Stoya Destroya vagina.  “You can use this if you want to wank.  But only use my photos.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna have me a wank too.”

“But you want me to leave.”

“Yeah, is that ok?”

“Um no.  Not really.”

Larry Archer’s wife

“Just give me a little while.”

She got out of bed to escort me to the door as she got out of her clothes.  She put her panties on the doorknob as if she had a paramour over, but it was just her and her fingers, toys, and binders full of women.

I went back to the living room, confused, carrying my vagina.  Well, Stoya’s vagina.  Carrying a vagina.

I returned to the bedroom and knocked on the door furtively.

“What?” she asked, not opening the door.

“Lube,” I said.  “You didn’t give me the lube.”

The door opened a crack.  I saw her standing naked.  She looked good.  Her arm extended, dropping the tube of lube in my hands.

“OK?” she asked, shutting the door.

Stoya front, Lola back

I walked away again.

Finding my way onto the couch, I began writing – this story.

Lo’s orgasmic arias were audible throughout the house.  They rose and fell, crescendo, decrescendo.  So many ups and downs I lost count.  I looked at the vagina sitting next to me and said, “It’s bad enough she needs more from me.  Don’t you just sit there and look despondent at me that she’s getting all the action.  It’s not my fault you don’t have arms, hands, or fingers to help yourself out.”

Finally, I made use of Stoya, more for her sake than mine.  She looked so sad there.

I came, one brief onanistic climax, looking at Lo’s photos on the internet while Lo, in the flesh, was having a grand old time fucking herself just down the hallway.  I got up to do the proper aftercare cleaning of Stoya in the second bathroom and saw Lo’s panties still prominently displayed on the doorknob as Lo went at it.

I returned to the couch and took a long nap.

I was woken up by the feeling of Lo’s lips on my flaccid cock.

“What are you doing?”

“Cock-warming,” she said as she lay naked on the couch between my legs, looking up at me.

“You want something?”

“No, Daddy.”

“No?”

“I’m sore.”

“What the hell was going on in there?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I started off jilling to the women I was showing you, but then I was into the cumtributes I’ve been getting.  I’m such a slut.”

“Agreed.”

“No, you don’t know why I’m saying that.”

“Do tell.”

“Well, I guess it’s bad enough that I am not faithful to you.”

“I don’t mind. . . usually.”

“But I have a sort of internet boyfriend.”

“What is that?”

“You know, like a work wife or a work husband.”

“You mean when people become overly chummy with people they work with?”

“Yeah, like that, but in my case, it’s with people I’ve met online.”

“Go on.”

“Well, I’ve been cheating on one of them with another guy.”

“I’m sure they don’t expect monogamy from you, dear.”

“Yeah, they’re both married themselves.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“That’s just it!”

“What?”

“Do you think I have a problem?”

“Other than being a nymphomaniacal, egomaniacal hotwife attention whore?”

“Yeah, other than that.”

“No, not at all.”

“Really?”

John Doe shrine to Lola

“If your biggest problem is that you’re sexting with someone behind the back of your long-distance lover while shutting me out of the bedroom so you can fist-fuck yourself because you’re turned on by your fandom, well, hey, we all should be that lucky!”

John Doe gets of to Lo

“I love you, Daddy,” she said, before returning to cock-warming me.

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.  What?”

Northerngentleman

“How about Boogie Nights?  Have you ever seen it?”

Northerngentleman cums in his wife’s panties.

“No.”

“Oh, then you’re in for a treat.”

  • Photos used with permission.

Sweet Charity

Wedded Bliss

It was late and all through the house not a creature was stirring, only Lo, clicking her mouse.

I was on my side of the bed, facing away from Lo, but I could feel the side of her thigh up against my back and the gentle rocking of the bed.  I gave it a minute, or twenty.  But when the motions didn’t cease and the moans increased, I rolled over to face her.

She was sitting up in bed, naked, her legs bent at the knees, one of them had been resting against me.  Her computer was between her legs, as one of her hands manipulated it and the other manipulated her clit.  The thin white strings of her earbuds dangled over her bare breasts on their way to their hidden nooks under her thick dark hair.

“Daddy,” she complained, as if my rolling over interrupted her activities.

“You know I’m trying to sleep here, Lo, right?”

“Just a couple more minutes,” she said without taking her eyes away from the screen.  “I’m getting close.”  Her voice was unusually loud because of the sounds kept out by the earbuds and their volume in her ears.

“Your onanistic sessions are taking longer and longer,” I observed.

“Shhhh,” she hissed, unconsciously.  I don’t even know if she heard what I said.

I rolled back on my side, away from her in order to allow her her privacy while she finished.  She seemed put off by my lack of interest.

“Daddy.”

“What?”

“Don’t you want to know what I’m looking at?”

I was going to be informed either way I answered so I said, “Yes, Lo, what is it that has you all riled up?”

“My friend Sam.”

“Sam?  Who’s Sam?”
“I told you.  He and his wife are big fans.”

“OK.”

“Well, he just wrote to me.  You want to hear what he said?”

“I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“I’m on the edge too.”

“What did Sam say?”

“He said: ‘I had a sex dream about you the other night. We were having sex in my bed, next to Alia as she slept, and I came inside you four times before I woke up with a major hard-on and had to stroke to you until I came for real.’ And you know what I said?”

“What?”

“‘I’m so flattered!  It would feel soooo good to have you cum inside me four times!  I’d be oozing your cum all day.  Did you tell Alia about your dream?’”

“OK, and he said?”

“He said, ‘I didn’t tell Alia about the dream. It never came up.  I did use her as a cumdump last night though.  I was reading through your posts and got super horny, but she wasn’t in the mood for sex, so I asked her if she would mind if I came inside her pussy and she was fine with that.  I was so horny from reading about you that it only took maybe 30 seconds of pounding her before I blew my load deep inside her.  It was so hot using her as a cumdump.  I really enjoy giving women pleasure, but sometimes it’s nice to focus just on my own pleasure.’  Isn’t that hot?”

“Cumdump” Alia getting herself off to Match, Cinder & Spark

As she asked, her orgasm began to take over her body, causing her to twitch and convulse.  She moved her laptop just fast enough to avoid squirting on it.  I grabbed it from her and viewed the photos Sam had sent accompanying his little virtual postcard to Lo.

Alia

When Lo was done, she got up (and got me up) to change the soaking sheets.

“Sam says that Alia wants to be more like you.”

“I know!  Isn’t it flattering?”

“Lola Down – inspiring hotwives everywhere.”

“I like that.  Did you just think of it?”

Sam & Alia inspired by Lola

“A stroke of genius.”

“Did you say stroke?”

“I did, but not with the meaning that Sam has for stroke.”

“Can I stroke you, Daddy?” she asked, getting into the newly made bed with me and grabbing my cock.

“You still want more?”

“I’ve yet to find my upper limit when it comes to sex.”
“Fine.  Turn on your back and spread your legs.”

If there was a male equivalent to what Sam described his wife, Alia, as – a “cumdump” – then I was it.  I was a prop for Lo’s pussy to palpitate upon.

I was balls-deep into her soaked, sloppy pussy.  Her secretions slathered me from my crotch to my knees.  She was so slippery at this point that I could hardly feel anything as I repeated the motions that turned on her spigot.

“I want you to gift me,” she said, breathing heavily.

“What?” I asked, looking down at her face as it contorted with pleasure.  Her eyes were shut and she was clearly envisioning something with her imagination.

“Instead of just passively giving permission for me to fuck other people, I want you to give me —- as a gift.”

“To whom?”

“Anyone.”

She came yet again as she said it.

I pulled out, allowing her body to recover.  The sheets were drenched.  Her puss was gaped.  Her breaths were deep, long, and loud.

“Why’d you stop?” she eventually queried.

How to tell her that her extreme arousal made fucking her indistinguishable from dipping my cock in a widemouthed jar full of warm water?

“I’m old,” I said.  “I need a break.”  Not a lie, but maybe not the whole truth.

“That’s why I want you to gift me,” she replied.  “If you can’t handle me, then might as well give me to someone who can.”

“Can’t handle you, or can’t satisfy you?” I asked.

“A little from column A, a little from column B.”

“How about you gift me your ass and I’ll show you a column that will satisfy you, if you can handle it.”

“I thought you said you need a break.”

“Breaktime is over.  Show me the back door and I’ll get to it in the workroom.”

“Nah,” she said, nonchalantly.

“What do you mean, nah?”

“Not today, ole man.”

“But you ‘gift’ your ass to the brothers and they don’t ask, or even beg like I do.”

“I do that for you.”

“How is it for me?”

“It makes you jealous.  It’s practically the only thing I can do to make you jealous.  And when I don’t allow you to have my ass, it makes you even more jealous.”

“You know me too well.”

“Why do you want my ass so badly?”

Rather than tell her the actual reason – that her pussy had become too much of a bath for me, I said, “It’s like Peter Gabriel sings.”

“What?”

“Don’t you know the song?” I asked.  Her perplexed look indicated I had to recite it for her:

 

In your ass
The light, the heat
In your ass
I am complete
In your ass
I see the doorway to a thousand churches
In your ass
The resolution of all the fruitless searches
In your ass
I see the light and the heat
In your ass
Oh, I want to be that complete
I want to touch the light
The heat I see in your ass

“I don’t think those are the lyrics,” she said, laughing.

“Close enough.  Now show me the doorway to a thousand churches.”

“Do you have the church key?”

“That I do!”

“Fine, but only because you’re such a fool.”

“If that’s what it takes to have your ass, then I’ll be the court jester!”

“Hurry up and use your bauble and jingle your bells,” she said, rolling on her tum and spreading her ass cheeks for me.

Lo’s Temple of Venus

I slid right in and she repeated, “I want you to gift me.”

“Give you away, like a father giving away his daughter, the bride.”

“Oh my God, that would be even better.”

“What would?”

“If I wore a white wedding gown.”

“Maybe I could give you away in a church.  We’d call it Christmas charity.”

“FUCK!!!  I’m cumming. . . in my ass!”

Unlike her pussy, which squeezes me out when she squirts, her ass clenches, but just enough to make it feel even better, but not evict me.  She sprayed the newly replaced sheets beneath her as I ejaculated deep in her orifice.

I slid out of her slowly, taking my sweet time.

Wedding Shower

She was lying in her own puddle, panting.

“Are you going to clean me off or. . .”

“Come here,” she said, not moving.

I put my cock in front of her open mouth.  She took it in and sucked it clean.

“That’s my good girl.”

She smiled.

Giving Away the Bride

COVID Birthday

“Happy birthday!” said Lo in a sing-song tone.

Lola’s Gifts

I rolled over.  It was early.  Earlier than Lo gets up in the morning.  She wanted to make the day special for me since she knew that we couldn’t have a party or celebrate in any way that resembled birthdays past.

“Wanna have birthday sexy?” she said, rubbing her large breasts up against my bare back in bed, swinging her right leg up and over my hip and sliding her pussy up and down my hip.

“Not now,” I said like a real ingrate.

“Oh, don’t be like that.  Let’s get it on.  You’ll be the oldest person I ever fucked.  Again.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah.  Why?”

“Just checking.”

I slid my legs over the side of the bed and sat up.  I sat for a while contemplating the day before me.  I’m not a very social or sociable person.  That’s Lo’s department.  But this COVID thing did drive home just how much I actually enjoy being with people.

This year there would be no party, no rowdy crowd, now carousing.  Just a few cards.  Maybe a phone call or two.  I had already told Lo, absolutely NO Zoom party.

I stood up slowly and made my way to the bathroom.

“Leave it open!” Lo called, as usual.  She has a fetish for seeing a man pee.

I shut the door behind me.

When I emerged from the privy, I found Lo on the bed, legs spread, finger placed between her labia.

“Ready Daddio?”

“Not now, Lo.”

She rolled over and stuck her bum in the air.  “Birthday spanking?”

I patted her behind gently as I walked by it, exiting the bedroom to go make my coffee.

It was a weekday and so I went through my usual morning routine to get ready for work.

Lo, to my surprise, got dressed and was ready to go out the door before I was.

“Forget to buy a card?” I asked sarcastically.  It was cruel.

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m going to buy a condolence card since you seem to be set on mourning everything you don’t have.”

She left and I suddenly felt very alone.  Having Lo around to spout off my spoiled whining to was better than having no one around.

I ate breakfast, got dressed, hopped in the car, and drove to the office.

There would be no one at the office, again, thanks to COVID.  Everyone was working remotely.

I climbed the stairs to the floor that my office is on and turned to walk down the long hall to it when, looking up, I saw that the door to my office was open and, sitting there, framed by the doorway, was a sexy blonde wearing, it appeared, nothing but her black facemask.

I practically rubbed my eyes thinking I was still dreaming.  Was this a femme fatale straight out of a fifties’ movie?  Was I going to walk up to my office and she’d sit there, light a long cigarette in an even longer black filter, and speak to me in a sultry voice?  “Mr. H.  I would like to hire you to sue my husband.  It’s a hard case.  Do you like it when it’s hard?  I know I do.”

I walked slowly down the silent hallway.  Her eyes were trained on mine.  I got to the doorway.  She uncrossed her legs and spread them wide.  I could see now she was wearing merely an extreme micro bikini.  I stopped at the threshold.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Happy birthday, Mr. H,” she replied.

Before I could ask how she knew it was my birthday, how she got into my office, or even who she was, she added, “Why don’t you come inside and shut the door behind you so we can have some privacy?”

I took a step in and closed the door.  It was then that I saw, inside my office, just out of sight from the doorway, was Lola, sitting in the waiting room chair.  Oh, thank God!

“Lola,” I said in my Ricky Ricardo voice.

“Hi Daddy!  Surprised?”

“What’s going on here?”

“This is Candie.  She’s a strip- er. . . exotic dancer, and she’s here to perform for you.”

“For me?”

“Well, for us.”

Candie stood up and just smiled.  She stood in the middle of the reception area on the hardwood floor in her tall stripper heels.

Lo turned on some music, Candie’s playlist, I imagine.

 

 

I smell sex and candy here
Who’s that lounging in my chair
Who’s that casting devious stares
In my direction

Mama this surely is a dream

Very appropriate, especially since her long blonde hair did smell like candy – cotton candy.  I sat down in the leather club chair where Lo had been and enjoyed the show.  She danced for a bit in her teeny-bikini, and then the top came off.  I saw her nipples were very hard.  That’s when I realized it was chilly in the office.  Lo had opened the windows to keep the air circulating.  Can’t be too careful.

To my surprise, Candie’s bottoms, what little there were of them, also came off.  As they did, Lo found her way to me and slid me out of my jeans.  She reached down to see how hard I was.  Very.  She got between my legs and went down on my rod like it was her candy.  I put up no resistance.

Lo looked up at me and said, “You like, Daddy?”

I looked down at her and said, “I do.  But I’d rather have you.”

That didn’t take much convincing.  Lo stood up and, as if she were on stage with Candie, removed her blouse, bra, skirt, and panties.  She kept her heels on.  Then she sat on my lubricated lingam and I eased into her dripping yoni.  She was facing away from me, toward Candie.  Lo put her right hand down to her crotch and made small circles on her clit while gently rising and lowering, as if riding a horse English style.  Candie was clearly performing for Lola and only secondarily for me.  She seemed to like what she saw and, judging from how wet Lo was, Lo enjoyed Candie’s performance just as much.

Candie sat on the floor and diddled her own pink parts.  Her breasts were small and perky.  She was probably Lo’s age or maybe a little younger.  She was confident in her performance.  I whispered in Lo’s ear, “Where’d you find her?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” said Lo.

“I am older, today!”

“Sit back and enjoy the show.”

I did just that.  I was too self-conscious to cum.  But Lo wasn’t.  Thank goodness the chair was leather and the floor hardwood.  Easy clean-up.

When her performance was over, Candie again wished me a happy birthday and thanked Lo.  She said, “I haven’t worked in months.  This was really helpful.  And I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

She got dressed as Lo used paper towels and all-purpose cleaner on the chair and floor.

Candie let herself out, wearing a long leather trench coat like a character out of The Matrix.

“Well, well, well,” I said to Lo.  “Do you have any more surprises up your sleeve for me today?”

“You’ll have to take off all my clothes again to find out.”

“All your clothes are off!!!”

“Does it look like I have anything up my sleeve?”

“I imagine you have more creative places to hide my birthday gifts.”

Victory Lap

As she made the ‘OK’ sign with her index finger and thumb, my hard cock filled the hole of that universal hand-gesture that indicates everything is alright.  And everything was better than alright.  She was lying under my arched, naked body, her left hand doing the bare minimum necessary to still qualify as a hand-job.  I was doing most of the work, thrusting in and out of her digital aperture.  She was lying naked on her back, her right hand doing more work on her clit than her left on my dick.  But, hey, it’s not a competition.  I was pleased.  She was pleasing – herself and me.

“That’s it, you big, bad dog,” she said in a sultry tone, referencing the taboo topic of her acquired technique.

She knew exactly what that would do to me.  She plays me like a fiddle with her nimble fingers, though I’m sure she’d rather play a long, black clarinet that requires both hands to get the proper fingering and also the use of a wet mouth and tongue to blow all those Ds loud and with proper dynamics.

Within seconds my baton was conducting the final climactic notes of this symphony.

As I write these tortured metaphors, I can hear Lo laughing and saying, “Symphony!  P’shaw, more like a minuet.”

Be that as it may, she was covered in pearlesque droplets from chin to chest.

Holiday Glaze

I fell back onto the bed, relishing the sweet release she uncorked for me.

But she, rather than lounge in the lethargic bliss I was enjoying, hopped out of bed, put on her jeans and a tank-top, and said, “Do you want to come walk with me?”

Or, at least that’s what I understood her to say.  What she actually said was, “Do you want to cum-walk with me?”

“What?” I asked groggily.

“Cum-walk.”

“I don’t want to walk.”

“No, Daddio, a cum-walk.”

“What’s a cum-walk?” I asked, finally understanding what she was articulating.

“It’s like a walk of shame.  A stride of pride, a victory lap, the trek of triumph, the Something About Mary hommage,” she said with a French accent.

“Since when is that a thing?”

“Oh, old man, hurry up, get dressed, and I’ll tell you as you accompany my for a strumpet stride through the neighborhood.”

“Ok, ok,” I said, laughing, “You’re killing me with these colorful combinations of colloquialisms for cum.”

“Say that four times fast!”

“Where’d you learn all those?

“Eskimos have forty different words for snow and I. . .”

“Forget it.  I don’t want to hear what precipitated your poetic euphemisms.”

When I was dressed, we walked outside, arm-in-arm.  She was proud to have the origin of her adornments accompany her as she displayed her latest accomplishment.

She said hello in a flirtatious voice to the others who passed us by on the delightful spring morning.  Out of the corner of her eye, she tried to spy if they looked carefully enough to discern what was glinting in the sunlight on her cheek, chin, neck, and shoulder.

“So, when did this become a thing?” I asked again.

“It’s always been a thing.  I mean, remember the time at the nude beach when you came all over my face and tits?”

“Which time?”

“Oh, Daddio.  The beach with the geriatric gentlemen who genuflected at my altar.”

“Right.  Yeah, so?”

“Remember, after you rained your love down on me, we walked together, saying hi to the beachcombers.”

“Yeah, I remember, fondly.”

“And the time I met that very nice athlete in the park.”

“You mean the big black guy who came on you?”

“You have a good memory for an old man.”

“That’s why I write these things down – to keep your paramours straight.”

“Oh, straight is ok, but I prefer kinky paramours.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“Anyhow, after he came on me and I walked up to you dripping with his jizz.  That also was a cum-walk.”

“I see.”

“Are you going to write about this one?”

“Of course I am, even if no one believes me.”

“They don’t believe you, Daddy?”

“Lo, you can understand that a lot of people find you unbelievable.”

“I’ve been told that before.”

“Morning,” said a passerby.

“Hi,” Lo chirped back in a perky voice.  Her tits were perky too in her see-through white tank-top.

Lo’s braless top

“Getting a lot of looks,” I remarked to her.

“Yeah, but I made the wrong choice.”

“How’s that?”

“They’re all looking at my chest, not my face.”

“Ah yes, the age-old dilemma.  What’s the reaction you’re looking for?”

“I’d just like a tall, dark, and handsome man to give me a long stare that says, ‘I know what you just did, you slut.”

“I think you take too much pleasure in this.”

“Oh, Daddio!  The only thing more pleasurable is when it’s leaking out of my puss through my panties and shorts at the same time as it’s on my face.”

“Do you have a special name for that walk?”

“The Double-Stuff Strut, The Cream-Pie Promenade, The Spit-Roast Saunter.”

“I should have known.”

admiration