A Brush with the Little Death

[The mini-series Mount Bliss continues from Casual Encounters]

“Oh, I’m so tired.  I’m sure I’ll sleep well tonight.  I bet a construction crew banging away with a jackhammer wouldn’t wake me tonight!  Good night.”  Those words of Lily’s, spoken just before she went to sleep, were reverberating in Lo’s ears.  Lo lay on her back, wide awake, thinking about those words.  Was Lily trying to tell her and Collin something?  “A jackhammer.”  Hmmmm.  Was she intimating that Collin could go at it with Lo in his bed?  Was that permission?  Or was she just casually saying that she was tired, unaware of her word choice?  Lo couldn’t get the thoughts out of her mind.  She considered and reconsidered.  Do I sneak out of Lily’s arms and slide my way into Collin’s bed?  Do I jill it here, in the darkness, next to Lily, across from Collin?  Whatever she thought, falling asleep wasn’t one of the options.  She was too excited at the moment.  She looked over at Collin.  Could he see anything in the darkness?  She certainly couldn’t.  Not yet.  No motion.  No silhouette.  Was Lily asleep?  Her breathing sounded as if she was.

Art by Suzie Freeman, Model, Lola Down

Lo could feel her pussy secreting little lust-drops beneath the sheets.  She was in a strange state of arousal.  The arousal stemmed from her inability to even move.  A lithe Lily, nearly nude, lying next to her.  A lumberjack of a man indistinctly there in the near distance of the darkness.  And her own body, ready, waiting to be touched.  Longing to be fucked.  She thought about her nipples and how hard they were, unplucked in the draped stillness of the unlit room.  Her neck, unkissed, her blood rushing through the veins to her head with a steady, fast pumping.  Her earlobes, desirous of a tongue that would titillate them, of teeth that would nibble at them, and of close breath that would gently blow upon them.  Her groin ached with pain in its uncaressed longing for a tongue, a finger, a cock.  Anything, even her own soft sensation upon it, would do.  But as she was, she could not even venture down there for a quick rub.  This was a state of denial to which she was unaccustomed.  Unaccustomed?  No.  Unacquainted.  She never had to do this.  Abstain, that is.  At least not in recent memory.  It had been so long since her last good pounding.  Masturbation was fine, she thought, but fucking was finer.

The images swirled in her mind of cock, of Lily, of pussy, of her own hungry cunt.  Porn, so close on her phone, but unthinkable to turn it on.  She was turned on.  Turned on to herself.  She clenched her pussy tightly and released, trying, unsuccessfully, to induce a hands-free orgasm.  She’d heard of it done, but had never tried it.  Wait, that’s not true.  There was that time on the Buddhist retreat, in seated meditation, when she figured out how to make herself cum without moving.  But then she was seated in the lotus position.  Now she was reclining, with a body cuddling her.  Everything in the room seemed to scream of sex in the still, deafening silence.

She ever so carefully, so slowly, so gently removed the draped arm of Lily from over her torso and placed it with all due dexterity beside the body to which it belonged.  She surreptitiously slid her bare legs over to the edge of the bed.  She furtively felt for the carpeted floor beneath her.  She found it.  She sat up, silently.  She assessed the situation.  Lily sleeping.  Collin alone in his bed.  She snuck, slow as a sloth, from her bed to his.  She got under the covers next to him.  She gently kissed his shoulder, his bicep, he chest, his neck, his lips.  His eyes opened without the slightest surprise.  He kissed her back.  She moved her hand down between his legs and felt his enormous, hard rod eager for her caress.  She slid her palm up and down the shaft.  Long, luxurious strokes.  He kissed her more passionately.  She positioned her body over his and slid down, her wet pussy dripping down the inside of her thighs.  She felt the girth of his member stretch her lips wide as she shifted and rocked gently to accommodate all that he had to offer.  In he entered, like a large rocket docking in the mothership.  She took it tip to base, a satisfied grin on her face.  He met her descending movements with ascending thrusts.  Soon they became more forceful.  He wanted to dominate her, to own her cunt with his cock.  Using his strong arms, he rolled her over onto her tum in the bed and he got behind her.  She positioned herself like a bitch in heat, waiting to take his firm meat between her fleshy pussy lips.  He didn’t hold back.  He entered with urgency.  He entered with command.  He entered her like a boss.  She loved it.  She lapped it up.  He put his big hands on her hips and pulled her back so that now he was standing at the end of the bed, pounding her from behind.  Bam, Bam, he rammed it home with complete disregard for the smacking sound his hips made against her round ass.  Complete disregard for the fact that his young niece was sleeping in the bed next to them.  He punished her with his cock and soon he was rhythmically ramming her like the jackhammer that Lily had mentioned.  A quick whack, whack, whack, ever louder, ever faster.  Lo couldn’t keep her pleasure to herself.  She let out a moan, then a groan, then a scream.  She met his every shove of his cock with a powerful reverse shove of her ass until she was dripping and squirting for the brief intervals that he was at the threshold of her labia.  She was calling out to her god and asking for more, thanking her deities for the dick that punished her puss.  She could see out of her peripheral vision in the darkness Lily propping up her head with her arm to watch in silence.  She watched her uncle fuck her best friend.  She watched as Lola squirmed and squirted, screamed and sighed.  She watched as Collin beat the bum and swollen mons pubis of her sex-craved friend.  She watched as both of them came with ecstatic delight and collapsed upon the soaked sheets of the hotel bed next to her.  She watched with keen interest as they both panted for breath and then she said with a neutral tone of disinterested observation, “I think Lola likes you Uncle Collin.”

Actually, dear reader, none of that happened except in Lo’s racing mind as she struggled for release.  Sorry to disappoint.

But then Lola got an idea.  Yes.  It was possible.  That would do the trick.  If she could only reach to the nightstand without disturbing anyone.  She extended her right hand.  She searched around for it, groping in the darkness.  She found it!  Yes.  She pulled it back to her like Gollum grabbing the Ring that Rules Them All.  Slowly, surreptitiously, secretly, she maneuvered it under the blankets, between her legs, into her wet, wide pussy.  The shape and curvature of the handle of her hairbrush fit just so, snugly inside her where she could flex her Kegel muscles on it, giving her the sensation of a cock, deeply lodged inside her.

Good in a Pinch

Yes, yes, that was it.  That was the spot she needed to hit.  With her right hand she could gently move the brush, wiggling it side-to-side, up-and-down, deeper in, a little out.

She was perfectly primed and ready.

But wait!  Of fuck!  I hadn’t thought of this, I hadn’t planned on. . . fuuuuuuuuuuuck.  The orgasm.  The climax.  The clenching of the walls of her cunt, pushing the brush handle out the way it pushes out cock when cumming hard.  The inevitable squirting.  Fuck fuck fuck!  The gripping of the sheets with her fists.  The biting of the lip.  The convulsing of the stomach muscles.  The necessity for silence.  And then the great relief as the waves of pleasure and pain ebbed and flowed through her veins.

And then the embarrassment as Lily squeezed her tightly, kisses her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “It’s ok.”

A.O.L.

[Continued from Fast, Wet, & Slippery]

 

After the long day at the lake and the suggestive movie, when Lo and Lily went to bed that night, Lo got up the guts to ask Lily, “What did you mean when you told me that lying out in the sun naked here is no different than being naked in front of your dad?”

Lily laughed a little and said, “You know we’re French, right?”

“You mean, like French French?  I mean, born there?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I thought I mentioned it.”

“Well, you might have said in passing that your family is French, but I thought that was a few generations ago.”

“No, my dad and his brother Collin came here just before I was born, like twenty-three years ago or so.”

“But they have no accent!”

“Their parents were diplomats and they were raised half in America and half in France.  But even in France, they went to the American School.”

“Oh.”

“And your mom?”

“My mom is from D.C.  My dad met her when he was at the French Embassy here.”

“Oh.”

“So, in France we always vacation in the south and it’s pretty much all nude beaches there.  That’s all I meant by that.  Nothing kinky.”

“Oh, I see.  And so Collin was just interested in Blue is the Warmest of Color because he’s French and it’s a French movie?”

“Probably,” she snickered.  “That, and he’s a horny fuck.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“He is!  Haven’t you noticed?”

“Well, he has been showing me a lot of attention.”

“A lot of attention?!  Come on, Lo!  You know that there’s something between you two.”

Lo blushed and admitted, “OK, I know he wants me, but what about your Aunt Suzanne?  I mean, she’s got to know something’s up.”

“I think that they have an understanding,” she said with a knowing, mysterious smile.

“What makes you think that?”

“I have my ways,” said Lily, delighting in the unspoken.

“Do you think that Collin is trying to encourage you and me to play?”

Lily said nothing.

“Or me and Suzanne?”

Lily again said nothing.

“Come on Lily!  You have to have some take on it.  I mean, if you know that they have an understanding, you must have some idea what Collin’s up to with that porno film he showed us.”

“Lo!  It wasn’t a porno film.  It won tons of awards!”

“It was porn and he meant for us to view it that way.”

“It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“I’m not denying that,” said Lo, who was simultaneously and unconsciously playing with her pussy beneath the covers, “but paint drying turns me on.  I want to know what Collin’s plan is?  What’s he scheming?”

Lo leaned toward Lily, who was sitting on the bed not far from Lo, and Lo said in a whisper, “Or did you suggest the movie?”

“Meeeee?” squealed Lily, playing innocent.  “I didn’t.  Why?  Do you want to seduce me?”

“Do you want me to seduce you?  To finger you the way those two girls did?”

“Oh no,” said Lily, to Lo’s great disappointment.

“No?” repeated Lo in disbelief.  She’s not used to being turned down.

“No fingering me.  No.  I’m A-O-L.”

“What?”

“Anal Only Lifestyle.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what it says.  I only do anal.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I’m not.”

“I’ve never met anyone who only did anal.  I mean, I’ve met lots of people who swear never to do anal, but not the other way around.”

“Well, I’m not only French, I’m also Catholic.”

Lo laughed.  “What’s that have to do with anything?”

“A lot!  You see, the Church teaches that sex before marriage is wrong.”

“You didn’t buy that B.S., did you?”

“I did!  And before I was married, I tried to be a good girl.”

“But anal sex,” Lo began to say, putting the pieces together.

“Anal sex isn’t sex, and so, I was a good little anal slut in high school.  I never had sex – according to the Church – but I had lots of loads up my ass.  I grew to really like it.  No, to love it.  And so, even now, it’s only anal for me, even though I’m married.”

“Really?!” asked Lo in disbelief.

“I’m still, technically, a virgin.”

“How’s Jim feel about that?” asked Lo with deep curiosity.

“Oh, he’s such a romantic,” she said, almost dismissively.  “He wants so badly to take my virginity.  But I’ve held off.”

“Why?”

There was a long pause and the conversation turned serious as Lily pondered the simple question.

“I guess,” she began slowly, “I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid he might not like it or. . . maybe I won’t like it.  You know how small he is.”

Lo knew very well.

“I guess I prefer that he just keep on banging my backdoor than take a chance on coming in the front.”

Anal Anime

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lola

Fast, Wet, & Slippery

Since the story of what happened that week was leaked to me piece-by-piece through various curt emails and similarly brief phone calls, punctuated by alluring photos with suggestive texts, I’ll just tell you the story that I heard when Lo and I were finally reunited together at Collins lakeside cabin.

Fun Bum

Tuesday night Lily, Lo, and Collin returned to the farm-to-table restaurant to have the meal that they had helped harvest earlier that day.  Lo was dusty and disheveled due to all the work, but the restaurant’s dress code was quite lax.  They had what Lo described as one of the most scrumptious meals of her life.  It was just the three of them at a small, candle-lit table.  Collin regaled them with stories.

Back at the cottage, Lo and Lily went to bed early again, exhausted from all the day’s activities.  Lo repeated her solo performance of the night before, telling Lily as she rubbed one out how hot she finds Lily’s Uncle Collin.  She went through a little fantasy of spending time with him in a hotel room somewhere away from her Aunt Suzanne.

The next day was a crystal clear blue sky reflected in the still mirror-like water of the lake.  Collin, pleased and almost proud of the weather as if it was his handywork, said they’d spend the day on the boat.  Lo and Lily got into their bikinis and, after breakfast, they got into the speedboat and departed, without Suzanne again.  She and the dogs, Shadow and Bandit, were on the dock as the boat pulled away.  She wished them a fun time and returned to the house as the trio sped off, sending ripples across the lake’s surface.

When they got to the middle of the lake, Collin stopped the boat and turned to the girls, asking, “Want to have some fun?”

Lily’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the tubes and threw them behind the boat, careful to avoid the motor.  Lo was confused, but Lily literally showed her the ropes.  The two of them got on top of the inner tubes and held on to the rope, tethered to the boat.

“Don’t go too fast!” called Lily to Collin.  Then she showed Lola the hand-signals for: faster, slower, stop.

Collin gave the thumbs-up sign.  Lily turned to Lo and asked, “Ready?”

Not sure what was going to happen, Lo gave a frightened nod.

Lily gave the thumbs-up sign back to Collin and away they went.

The tubes bounced off the waves made by the boat as they scudded across the surface of the lake, slowly at first, but with gradually increasing speed.  Lo held on tightly and was having a fun, if terrifying, time.

They danced across the nearly vacant lake, making large figure eights and tight circles.  But then Lo felt something that made her apprehensive.  She could feel the bottoms of her bikini sliding off with the resistance of the waves splashing over her.  She put up her hand on her head to indicate stop, but Collin didn’t see until it was too late.  About fifty yards back were her yellow bikini bottoms floating on the water.  She was lucky they floated.  Actually, she would have been find either way I guess.

When they realized what had happened, Lily and Collin had a good laugh.  Lo let go of the rope and swam, her naked bum bouncing in the water, as she retrieved her bottoms.

She put them on in the water and tied the strings tightly.

They continued the tubing adventure until, when Collin stopped the boat again, Lo lifted up her head to listen to what he was saying.  She couldn’t hear him over the sputter of the engine, so he did pantomime.  Then she realized that he was telling her that her top had fallen down.  The waves had pushed her bikini top down below her tits.  They laughed again at her public exposure.

When the trio returned to the cottage and docked the boat, the girls decided to lie out and sunbathe.

Collin joked that since Lo’s bikini was so averse to staying on her body, she should just tan in the buff.  Lo took him at his word and asked, “Is that ok?”

“Sure,” he said with a wide grin.

Both Lo and Lily removed their bikinis and lay out in the noontime sun while Collin and Suzanne waited on them hand and foot.

At one point, when Collin and Suzanne were inside, Lo turned to Lily next to her and asked, “Don’t you feel a little awkward nude in front of your uncle?”

Lily looked at Lo, smiled mysteriously, and simply said, “Nah.  It’s no different than being naked in front of my dad.”

Lo went back to sipping her G&T wondering what that meant.

The rest of that day was spent lounging around the house, swimming, playing badminton, horseshoes, and cornhole, all in the nude outside while Suzanne and Collin, dressed, looked on like two proud parents.  A few boats slowed down as they passed about a hundred yards from the shore, enamored of the view, no doubt.  That night they all stayed in and watched a movie.  Of course Collin chose, Blue is the Warmest Color, which neither Lo nor I had seen, despite all the adulation and criticism it received.

By the time they watched it, Lo and Lily had showered and were dressed, but that didn’t stop Lo from stroking her pussy surreptitiously under a blanket during that eight minute long steamy sex scene.  She wondered, of course, what Collin or Collin and Suzanne were scheming by putting that particular movie on for “the girls” to watch.

I’m cumming for you

Farm to Table

[Continued from “Tuesday’s Tale.”]

Though her brief email Tuesday morning gave me some indication as to what was going on in vacationland, it left me with so many more questions: What were Lo and Lily wearing to bed?  Just how many times did Lo masturbate?  What was Lily’s reaction?  Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long for my answers.  Lo knows me well.  As soon as she sent the email, she also texted me to alert me to its dispatch and she said, “Tell me when you’re done reading it.”

I texted her back and she immediately called me with her very sexy, sultry voice.

“Hi Daddy.”

I was at work.  I couldn’t respond in kind.

“Tell me, how is your vacation?” I asked in a quasi-formal tone.

“Mmmmmmm,” was all I heard from the other end of the line.  Her answer left a lot to the imagination.

“Lo, I can’t really talk right now, so. . .”

“We’re going out today, Daddy,” she said, interrupting me.  “I’ll call you later, ok?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Do you miss me?”

“Very much.”

“Do you want me to come?”

“What?”

“Do you want me to come?”

Was she masturbating on the phone?  I had no idea.  It wouldn’t be unheard of.  But then she added, “home.”  “Do you want me to come home?” she asked.

“I miss you, Lo.  But have a good time.  Call me tonight?”

“I miss you too.  Gotta run,” she said hastily.  “Kisses!”  Then she hung up.

I didn’t hear back from her that night.  It wasn’t until Wednesday morning that I got word from her and that meant I slept almost not at all Tuesday night.

Wednesday morning she sent me a photo that appeared to be her giving an incredibly tiny cock a hand-job, but it was hard to tell exactly.

The text that accompanied the picture simply said, “Getting a lot of practice for you, Daddy.  Do you miss me?”  I received those at about 7:45 Wednesday morning, before I went to work.  I asked her to call me, but she didn’t respond.  After another poor night of sleep for me, this was just too much to bear.

When she called later Wednesday, she caught me at work yet again.  I sat at my desk and heard her phone-sex voice as I tried to remain poker-faced.  I felt like a wax statue exposed to a hot fire.  She melted me inside, but I remained stoic externally.

She gave me the details of Tuesday’s excursion.  After a small breakfast at home, Collin had announced that he had very special dinner plans for Lily and Lola.  It was too cloudy and cool for the boat on the lake and so, he suggested a different outing.  Suzanne wasn’t going to join.  Collin said the girls should wear clothes they could get dirty in.  Lo’s curiosity was piqued.  Lo wore her denim skirt and a white, semi-transparent tank top.  No panties, no bra.

Soon the girls were in the Jeep with Collin riding across the terrain again, which frightened Lo half to death, but also exhilarated her.  Collin brazenly had his hand on Lo’s knee the entire ride.

They arrived at a farm, about a half hour from the cottage.  Collin explained to Lo and Lily that dinner was literally going to be a farm-to-table experience, but that he had arranged for the girls to work on the farm first to “earn your keep.”  The girls were game.  “You know how I love the country life,” said Lo over the phone.

Their chores included picking the fruit: peaches, apples, nectarines.  That required Lo to climb up the ladders while Colin held them in place, giving him the perfect view up her skirt.

Then they had to move the bales of hay.  This was very difficult for them, but Collin came in with a tractor and they were able to stack the hay properly.

Collin then let the girls take turns driving the tractor around the perimeter of the property before the girls were really put to work in the barn.  They had to milk the goats.  (So that’s what that picture was!)  Lo told me how good she was at it due to her wide experience using her hands with the same movement.

The GOAT

“Mr. H.,” said Ms. Gale, my secretary, barging into my office.

“What?” I almost barked at her.

“There is a client here to see you.”

“With an appointment?”

“No.”

“Tell whomever it is, I’m busy.”

“But. . .”

“Busy!  And please close the door behind you Ms. Gale.”

She exited.

“If you’re busy Daddy. . .” began Lo.

“No, I want to hear the rest of your story,” I said, sounding almost desperate.

She went on to tell me that after milking the goats, they had to churn the milk into butter.  She bragged again about how expert she was at that and insinuated that she also had a lot of practice.

Finally, after doing their chores on the farm, Collin took the girls for a horseback ride, bareback, to a park where they had a little snack of fresh baked bread, the butter they had made, some cheese, and the fruit they had picked.  Lo informed me that she sat in such a way to allow Collin more views of her pink, ripe delights.

Lo asked me, “Do you prefer peach or nectarine, Daddy?”

“Are you referring to fruit, Lo?” I asked, perplexed.

“What do you think?” she teased.

“Well,” I said, “when you left, you were peach.”

“Let’s just say I’m nectarine now.  And very juicy.”

I could hardly handle it.  She knows how to entice me.  “Show me,” I said.

She said I should wait a minute, hung up, and then texted me a pic.  It was not exactly what I had expected: a photo of a peach next to a nectarine.

“Very funny,” I typed back.

Then she followed it with a photo of her shaved pussy peeking out of her short denim skirt.

Collin’s View?

“What happened next?” I asked, impatient to hear her whole story and a bit scared she’d scamper off again to do who-knows-what before getting to the end of her day.

After lunch, Lo told me, they went to town and browsed through the little knick-knack stores, antique stores, art galleries, and bookshops.  Lo said she found one book that she showed to Collin to get his attention.  It was an anthology of erotica.  She asked Collin if he or his wife enjoy naughty reads.

But before telling me his answer, she simply told me that he was more than happy to buy the book for her and she sent me a little photo to prove it.

Erotic Crotch

After their excursion to town, they returned to the farm/restaurant for dinner, but, just as she was launching into her “I’ve got a sexy story to tell you” voice, Ms. Gale again interrupted.

“Mr. H., that client is still here.  Will you see him?”

Infuriated, I made my apologies to Lo and hung up, more frustrated than Coleridge when the visitor from Porlock arrived.

 

Mount Bliss: Tuesday’s Tale

[Continued from the mini-series “Mount Bliss” and the story “The Invitation“]

True to her word, Lo did email me the next morning.  Just before noon I received the missive.  She said, briefly, that she and Lily had arrive around 1:00 in the afternoon the previous day and that the cottage is very cute.  It’s a two bed, two full-bath place on a vacation destination lake, surrounded by woods.  But, according to Lo, it is far from “a small cabin.  We’re not talking Thoreau, here,” she said.  Each of the bedrooms had its own fireplace and the bathrooms were as large as our master bedroom at home.

She said that she and Lily were greeted by Collin and his wife.  Wife?!  I had no idea he was married and apparently neither did Lo.  Of course Lily did know, but she had never mentioned her aunt to us.  According to Lo, Collin and his wife, Suzanne, have a strained relationship.  More often than not, Lily would see Collin at family events and not Suzanne.  There was always some plausible excuse, but Lily was never very close with Suzanne; Collin being Lily’s father’s brother.  But she was at the cabin for this visit.  Lo said she was nice enough, though neither Lily nor Lola knew she’d be in attendance.

After they arrived Monday, Collin and Suzanne had a large lunch ready for them and they ate outside.  The weather was perfect – in the seventies, sunny, remarkably no mosquitos!  After lunch, Collin showed them around the area.  They took his Jeep and drove to town, up the mountain, and down into the little artist community nearby.  Lily sat in front and Lo in the back until they stopped for ice cream at one of Collin’s little out-of-the-way places that only locals know about.  It was about halfway up one of the mountains by a little lake and it had a great view of the larger lake below where the cabin sat.

After their ice cream – Collin’s treat – Lo sat up front.  “Want to do a little off-roading?” he asked.  The girls were up for a bit of an adventure.  So they took the dirt trail down the mountain.  “Hold on,” said Collin with a wide grin on his face.

The ride down the mountain was bumpy and Lo really thought they were going to flip the Jeep over.  At one point, Collin reached out his large hand and, using the excuse of protecting Lo as they went over a big bump, he pawed her breast.  She, in her excitement, grabbed his hand and held it tightly as it rested on her bare thigh.

When they got to the bottom of the mountain and back on the road, Collin turned to her and said, “Are you ok?” as he rubbed her smooth leg.

“My heart’s racing just a little,” said Lo.  He kept his hand on her leg the rest of the ride home.

When they got back to the house, Collin brought in some wood from outside.

“Are you going to make a fire?” asked Lo.

“Later tonight,” said Collin.

“But it’s so warm,” said Lo who was in a crop-top and short-shorts.

“It will cool down tonight.  We’re up in the mountains and the temperature has some dramatic swings.”

Suzanne made them all alcoholic beverages and they sat out on the lawn, in the waning sunshine of the day, sipping their tall, cool drinks and chatting before dinner.  Suzanne is in her mid-fifties, younger than Collin, and in very good shape.  She has shoulder length black hair and likes to wear tight jeans.  They have no kids together, just a large brown and white dog, named Bandit, who was running in the yard, carefree, and a small black dog named Shadow who lay under the table in the shade.

Lo’s Short Shorts, Sexy Ass & Pussy

“Tomorrow, we’ll go out on the boat,” said Collin.  Lo’s eyes lit up.  She loves a man whose sole purpose is to entertain her.

They had a big meal inside and then Collin lit a roaring fire.  They sat by it, but it made the girls sleepy and soon they were headed off to bed.  It was a California king size bed that they were sharing.  Once they were both in it and the lights were off, Lo turned to Lily and said, “Your uncle Collin is really something.”

“Yeah,” said Lily, “He’s always been a lot of fun.”

“But so handsome too.  Men’s magazine handsome.”

“I’ll admit, I always had a bit of a crush on him,” said Lily.  “Is that weird?”

“No, not at all,” said Lo, before turning on her back and silently stroking herself under the covers.  “Do you mind,” asked Lo, “if I really quickly rub one out?  I kinda need to in order to fall asleep.”

Lily didn’t mind.  Lo, luckily, didn’t squirt.

Mount Bliss: The Invitation

We had just finished watching David Hamilton’s film, Laura.  Yes, a throwback to 1979 and one that I had seen back in the “arthouse” days of cinema.  I had told Lo about it and her curiosity was piqued.  Not only was it sexy, taboo (in more ways than one), delightfully innocent (in more ways than one), and a classic of retro soft-porn, but it was an artifact from my sexual “youth,” or at least my younger days.  It was incredibly difficult to obtain since no one in America would touch it, stock it, sell it, or even acknowledge its existence.  But I had managed to procure a copy.  Anything for my Lo.

When I say we had just finished watching, keep in mind that Lo rarely gets through hardly any movie in one sitting, let alone a film involving overt sex and sexuality.  It had taken us five nights of her masturbating on the couch in fifteen minute bursts (towels spread on the couch and on the floor, of course) followed by role playing in the bed before we got to the final, climactic scene.  You could say she watched the movie in fits and spurts.  Now we were on the bed and she was looking up at me, over her shoulder, saying, “Daddy,” and I stood behind her bare bottom ready to ‘deflower’ her when suddenly her phone began vibrating.  Usually vibrating objects in the bedroom are welcome, but this was worse than coitus interruptus.  This was pre-coitus annoy us.  Lo grabbed her phone, looked at who was calling – Lily – and decided to answer it.

“Hey!” she said enthusiastically.  Then she turned around again, looked at me and made a motion with her free hand that I should penetrate her anyway, even as she was on the phone.

“Laura” still

“No, it’s not too late to call,” she said as I eased inside her very wet snatch.

“Ooooohhhh,” she moaned into the phone, “that sounds good!”  I thought she meant to say, “that feels good,” but whatever.

I continued going in and out as she was saying, “Uh hu.  Uh hu.  Yep,” to her friend.

I was feeling a little mischievous and I wanted a little more attention thrown my way, so while she listened to Lily on the phone, I grabbed her ass with both hands and slowly began circling her rear entrance with my thumb.  Like a planet gravitating to the event horizon of a black hole until it is swallowed by the singularity, suddenly my thumb was up to the first knuckle in.

Lo’s Lips

“WOW!” I heard Lo exclaim, but it sounded more like “Owwwww” with a double-u just barely in front.  She turned around and gave me a look before saying, “I mean. . . that’s just so exciting!”

Enjoying the attention I got and also enjoying embarrassing her a bit, I continued to insert my thumb up to the second knuckle.  I could feel my cock thrusting up against her rectovaginal septum.  She began to ease into it.

“Ooooh yess,” she said into the phone.  “I can’t wait.  It will be sooooo goooood.”

I held her ass with my hand, grabbing on from the inside with my thumb as my four fingers held her from the outside.  I pulled out my cock as I felt her cunt clenching.  I grabbed her even more tightly with my hand and watched as she squirted all over the bed and my knees.  It felt as if I had a leaky catcher’s mitt on my right hand.  Using that hand, I flipped her over on her back, before sliding my thumb out from in her.  She looked up at me and then I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head as she was breathing heavily.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.  Yes, I’m ok.  Just, uh, washing the dishes,” she said.  “OK, I’ll talk to you later.  Thanks!  Bye.”  She hung up.

“Washing the dishes?” I asked, incredulously.

“Shut up!  Who gave you permission to double-penetrate me?”

“You didn’t like it?”

“I loved it, but that doesn’t mean I expected it.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you to take a phone call just as I was going to knock on your front door.  What did Lily want anyway?”

“Do you remember Lily’s Uncle Collin?”

“How could I forget?  His big house, his big horse, his. . .”

“His big cock!” Lo interrupted.

“You didn’t see his cock.”

“I know, but I thought that’s what you were going to say next.”

“I was going to say his big personality.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Anyhow, what about him?”

“He called her and invited us to his other house; a little cottage on a lake.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you, me, Lily and Jim.”

“For when?”

“Next week.”

“And you said yes?”

“I hope that’s ok, Daddy.”

“You know I can’t next week.  I have a huge case on Friday of next week and I’ll be prepping for it intensely.”

“Oh, but Daddy,” she said, making a sad, pouty face.”

“No.  There’s absolutely no way.”

“Can’t you work remotely?”

“I can’t.”

“Well, then I guess you can’t go.”

I was perplexed for a moment.  “So, you’re going to go?”

“I don’t have to be at work next week.  Why wouldn’t I go?”

Something about this didn’t sit right with me.  I mean, usually I wouldn’t have a problem with Lo’s spending time with another man.  But usually it would be a day or a night.  But a week?  And with this man.  Something about him I didn’t like.  He was rich.  He was older.  He was in great shape.  Did I mention how rich he was?  OK, yes, I felt threatened.  I admit it.  The other guys Lo likes to fuck are rarely competitors.  Sure, they might have a big cock, good technique in bed, or some other winning trait, but never did the whole surpass the sum of the parts.  Lo’s hole might have been filled, but I always knew that she’d come back to me after she came with them.  But with this guy, I wasn’t so confident of that.  Maybe it showed when Lo said that she’d go without me.

“Oh Daddy, are you worried?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t be worried,” she said, grabbing my cock and putting it in her mouth.

“Is that what you plan to do with Uncle Collin?”

She looked up at me, her mouth full up, and grunted something.  I couldn’t tell if it was a yes or a no.

“What?”

She let my junk fall from her mouth and asked, “Do you want me to?”

Now I couldn’t tell if my answer was yes or no.  The thought of it turned me on, but it also terrified me.

She took my cock back in her mouth and diligently applied all her oral techniques to it, pleasing me physically, even as she tortured me mentally.  I came in her mouth and I’ll confess, I came to the thought of Collin taking my place, doing exactly as I was doing to my little cum-slut.

Lola Loves Dick

Honey Dripper Double Dipper

[Continued from A Case of the Mondays]

Lola had told me that she would be going out to dinner with friends that Monday night.  Knowing no one was waiting for me at home, I stayed late at work.

“Good night Mr. H.,” said my secretary.

“Good night Ms. Gale,” I responded without looking up from my desk.

I could feel her standing in the doorway to my office looking at me.

“Yes, Ms. Gale?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. H., but do we have so much to do?  I thought we were on top of our cases.  Would you like me to do something for you?” she asked, playing with her blond curls and leaning slightly over as if to see what tasks I was working on so late, but really just giving me a good view of her breasts.  I often wonder what it is she’s really offering.

Lo’s “Do Not Disturb” sign

“No Ms. Gale.  That won’t be necessary.  I’m just reviewing the quarterly numbers.  Have a good night.”

Not Ms. Gale, but looks much like her.

“OK, Mr. H.,” she said, turning around and affording me a good look at her long legs in her short skirt and heels as she sauntered down the hall.  If Lo only knew what possibilities I pass up while she dangles her dalliances for my delight.

About two hours later, I went home thinking that Lo would still be out.  But when I got in, I heard her ecstatic screeches emanating from the bedroom.  I followed the sweet sound down the hall and, rather than find Lo engaged in some self-pleasure stress relief, I found the bedroom door closed and her pink panties hanging on the doorknob, indicating that she was engaged in a session with someone and did not wish to be disturbed.

I turned around and began making some leftovers for my dinner.  As I was stirring the soup on the stovetop, suddenly Lo walked in, butt naked, holding her black dildo.  My presence startled her.

“Oh, hi Daddio,” she said, after briefly wielding her sex toy like a weapon.

“Going to bludgeon me with your masturbatory mace?”

“Ha,” she chuckled, “sorry.  I just came.”

“I know.”

“I just came to get a glass of water.”

“Who’s here?”

“Oh, just Robert.”

“Just?”

“Well, only Robert.  One at a time tonight.”

Lo’s Leaky Quim

“Am I on the list?”

“Did you make a reservation?”

“Do you have an app for that?”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in,” she said, grabbing the glass of water and a paper towel.  “Hold this,” she said, passing me the dildo.

I held the giant black cock in my hand gingerly as she put the paper towel between her legs, wiping a trail from her knee up to her crotch.

“Sorry, I don’t want to track up.”

“How considerate.”

She took back her dildo and waddled with the paper towel between her legs back to the bedroom.

I heard her say, “HH is home,” before she shut the door.

About fifteen minutes later, I heard the door open and Dr. Robert Smith appeared in the little dining area by my table as I ate my soup.

“See you at the faculty meeting?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“Don’t forget that proposal that I put forward for us to vote on.”

“It’s in the forefront of my mind,” I assured him.

“Well, goodnight.”

“Say,” I said, not letting him go just yet.

“Yes?”

“How are things with that woman in Italy?” I inquired.

“Linda?”

“Yeah.  Still romantically involved?”

“Actually,” he said, “funny you mention it.  Try to keep this to yourself,” he said in a hushed tone, “but I think we’re going to get married.”

“Married?!” I said.

“Shhhhh,” he cautioned.

“Right.  Well, this is news.  How’d this come about?”

“It hasn’t yet.  I’m going to go visit her to propose.”

“When?” I was eager for him to go.

“In a couple of weeks,” he said with a broad smile on his face.

“So I suppose you won’t be needing Lo as your goto girl to get your rocks off anymore?”

“I certainly hope not,” he said.

“Well, isn’t that rude?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he apologized almost immediately.  “I mean, hopefully she’ll agree and come here to live.”

“I wish you the best of luck, my friend.  Does Lo know?”

“Not yet.  It’s a bit of a secret until I pop the question.  OK?”

“Sure, sure,” I said reassuringly.

“See you at the meeting.”

“Yup.”

With that he was gone.

I wasn’t even done with my soup when I heard Lo call out from the bedroom, “DADIOOOOooooo!”

That’s my queue.

I appeared in the doorway.  She was spread-eagle naked on the bed.

“I guess that’s why they call it a bedspread.  When you get on it, you really spread.”

“Shut up and get in me.  You know you want to.”

“What do you see in him?”

“His accent.  When he speaks, my pussy glistens.”

“Does he fuck you with his words?”

“Well, he uses his tongue in more ways than one.”

“How was it?” I asked her.

“Amazing,” she said, sounding very content.

“Why?”

“His cock is so long.  It’s like twice as long as yours.”

“Mine is over eight inches.  You’re saying he’s sixteen inches long?”

“Well, no.  Maybe like ten.  But it feels twice as long.”

I removed my clothes and looked at her.  I asked, “How do you want it?  Quick and quiet or long and loud?”

“I always like long and loud, Daddy.”

“Looks like your quim sprung a leak,” I said.

“My what?” she asked.

“Your quim.”

“That’s a new one,” she said.

“Actually, it’s quite old.”

“What is?”

“Quim.”

“What is a quim?”

“Quim is a slang word for vulva.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re saying my quim is quite old?”

“No, the word is old.  It probably comes from ‘queem,’ meaning ‘snug’ in Middle English.”

“Well, I know what I cum from,” she said, looking at me with stars in her eyes.

“Lots and lots of cock,” I said.

“I am easy to please, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What else makes your quim cum?”

She squirmed around, got on her tum, and looked up at me with her big brown eyes.  “Why do I find your intelligence so incredibly sexy?” she asked, licking her lips as she stared at my cock.

“Because you’re a sapiosexual.”

“Don’t you find that flattering?” she asked.

“No, not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just interested in me until the next smarter person comes around.  Frankly, it’s a lot of pressure.”

“Oh, that is not true.”

“Really?  How do you know it’s not true?”

“Because you’re more than just intelligence to me.  You also have a sweet bod and an amazing dick and you can fuck me senseless.”

“That may be, but I still think you might just fall in love with Deep Blue, given the chance.”

“Deep Blue?”

“Yeah, you know, the IBM computer that beat Kasparov at chess.”

“Yes, I know that, silly.  I was just thinking. . .”

“Thinking what?”

“Thinking about how deep he can be.”

“Good grief!”

“I mean, if you could hook up that computer to these,” she said, holding up her Hitachi and dildo with both hands, “then, I may just fall in love.”

“You can already do that.  They make vibrating dildos that can be controlled remotely through your phone.”

“They do?!”

“Oh, geez, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

She immediately grabbed her phone and began googling it.

“See,” I said, “here I am hard up and ready to do you, and you’re on your tum, nude, fingering yourself to images on your phone.  I told you you’d pass me up for the next most intelligent thing.”

“Awe, do you have blue-balls?” she asked condescendingly.

“Yes!”

“Then get behind me and deep blue me!”

“Say please.”

“Now, after I complimented you, you’re full of yourself.”

“Yeah, well, soon you’ll be full of me too.  But you have to ask for it.”

“Please fuck me.  Please fuck my pussy.  Please fuck my cunt.  Please fuck my quim.”

“That’s better,” I said as I slid into her cum-filled hole.  I added, “I guess it’s not really a quim.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Not snug at all.”

“That’s not what Robert said.”

“What did Robert say?”

“Fuck me harder and I’ll tell you.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please fuck me harder,” she requested politely.

I pushed in further, and when I pulled back, I heard a slurping sound from her supple snatch.

“That’s it,” she said, moaning.  “Robert said I have a sweet, cozy cunt.”

“Lo,” I said, “you are our sweet honeypot.”

“He deposited his nectar in the hive.  Will you?”

The thought of her and Robert flooded my mind and soon I flooded her with a load of my own.

“What happened to long and loud, Daddio?”

“Sorry, but the idea of Robert filling you up put me over the edge.”

“You’re such a fucking philosopher, cumming to the idea.”

After I pulled out, she reached down and spooned up some spunk with her fingers and licked it.

“You’re damn lucky,” she said, “that not only am I easy to please, I’m also eager to please.”

She put the Hitachi between her legs and went to work on herself.

“I have a little bad news for you.”

“What’s that, Daddio,” she asked as if from afar, dwelling in her dreamy state of bliss.

“Robert confided in me that he intends to propose to Linda.”

“What?!” asked Lo as she sat up rapidly, dropping the Hitachi and gushed from between her legs onto the bedspread.

“Yep.  He told me as he was leaving.  But it’s a secret right now.”

“That bastard!”

“I guess your cunt was just a temporary salve.”

“A what?!  My cunt is the cause of his convalescence.  Do you think he’d have the confidence to propose to her if he wasn’t fucking me?  Just a year ago or so he was suffering from crippling insecurity and erectile dysfunction.”

“Just remember, he told me in confidence that he plans on proposing to her.  It’s just between us.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t blow anything.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

 

Hallmark of a Happy Hotwife

 

Lola helps her bf cum

Writing is a solitary act.  Writing a sex blog is not.  Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.

“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.

Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean?  Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”

After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.  I love helping couples cum together.”

My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.

A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.

“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.

“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.

“Justin.”

“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”

Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.

“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.

“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”

“What is?”

“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”

“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”

“I recommend you get it hard.”

“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.

“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”

One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him.  She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men.  The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”

One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.

“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.

“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.

“Do men just want to see your pussy?”

“No,” she said, “women do too.”

“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”

She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“Oooo, what sort of game?”

“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”

“Funny, but no.  Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”

“I can’t, I have to get to work.”

“Just bend me over and fill me up.”

“It’s not a Quickie Mart.  I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”

“Why not?”

I walked over to her.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart.  I touched her inner thigh.

“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Then I should be doing you.  I wanted you last night,” she said.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”

“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”

“You didn’t say you wanted me.”

“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”

“I like to hear you say it.”

She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed.  She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips.  “Get back in bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“What do you want?”

“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”

I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit.  “OK.”

She fondled me more.  “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”

“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”

“Fuck me.”

Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”

“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me.  I’m always open.”

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a lot of things to do.  You were just first on the list.”

I went to work.  It was her “work at home” day.  Yeah, right.

When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.

“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said.  “Feed me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your meat.”

This was as close as a request as I was going to get.  I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her.  I reached down between her legs.

“You’re sopping wet.”

“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”

“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.

“I jilled it this morning.”

“Without me?!”  Again, faux-surprise.

“I got lonely.”

“Lonely or horny?”

“Both.”

“So you jilled it all morning?”

“Not all morning.  It went into the afternoon.”

“And you still want me now?”

“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.

“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”

“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”

“What do you think this is, golf?”

“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”

“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.

I was poised to penetrate her.  She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit.  She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.”  Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that.  Yes.”  Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”

I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you.  I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”

“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my lunch.  That’s what I came home to do.”

“But what about me?” she whined.

“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”

“And diddling my bean!”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”

“Don’t go!” she pleaded.

“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”

“Get in the bed and fuck me.”

“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”

“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”

“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.

“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”

“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”

I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.

I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”

It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”

“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling out.  “I’m going to go out for lunch.”

I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.

I popped back in and looked at her.

“Unarmed?” I asked.

Another pillow flew at me.  I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.

Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”

“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”

“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”

I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”

When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.

“It’s not a sundress.  It’s a shirt.”

“Well, it should be a sundress.  What an ass!  You look great in that sundress!”

“It’s not a sundress!”

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“No.  But I think it’s cute that you want to.”

“You look so good.  Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”

When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.

“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up.  Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.

“What?”

“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”

“Robert?!  Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  I should have told you.”

“When did these plans happen?”

“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.

“Lo.”

“After you left.  I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”

“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.

“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.

“No,” I said.  “I’m tired and I’m hungry.  I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”

“That still might happen,” she said.  “The night is young.”

“And I’m old.”

“You can say that again.”

“And I’m old.”

“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”

“You weren’t even born then.”

“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you.  I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you.  You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”

I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.

Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.

“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.

“Did you jack off to it at work?”

“No!”

“Well why not?  You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know.  A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work.  I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”

“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”

“Precisely.”

“But I can fuck you at home.”

“It’s not the same.”

Just then the doorbell rang.  Robert was at the door.

“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.

“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.

“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”

“Not longer than an hour?”

“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”

I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out.  “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.

Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”

I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table.  No Robert.

She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.

One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”

“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’  You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”

“That’s funny,” she said to me.

“Shake a stick at?”

“Yeah.”

“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her.  “How was your dinner date?”

She didn’t answer my question.  She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.

She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me.  She clearly wanted me to fuck her.  But I wanted her to ask.  She said, “You have to learn to intuit.  Intuit!  Intuit!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face.  Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.

She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.

A breathy moan.

She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.

She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.

“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”

“Well, I think you need to take a break.”

“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”

“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”

“It enhances the experience.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.

She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.

She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife.  “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”

“Such a sincere sentiment.  It should go in a Hallmark card.”

“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.

“What is?”

“A line of Lola greeting cards.”

“Perhaps you could create them.  I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”

And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s quite alright.  Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm.  Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”

“I’m sorry!” she said again.

“It’s ok.  I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”

“It was hardly premature,” she said.

She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before.  Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.

“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.

I couldn’t answer.  I was too busy imagining her with Robert.

“Did you get a good meal?  Did it fill you up?  I was so full up,” she said.

I was speechless.

“Were you thinking of me, Daddy?  Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me?  Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”

“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”

“No, Daddy.  We just fucked.  He bent me over the table and fucked me.  Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table.  The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all.  Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass.  Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another.  He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care.  I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet.  Fuck me!  Fuck my holes!  I said, but he came and came deep in me.  He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”

She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum.  And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously.  So much that it came out of her nose.  She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.

“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.”  I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”

Lola’s Christmas Card

A Case of the Mondays

A Case of the Mondays

Got the Horses in the Back

“Tonight I’m going out to dinner with some friends,” she said to me in the morning after I got out of the shower.

“OK.”

“I’m going to take the subway downtown from work.”

“How are you going to get to work?”

“That’s where you come in.”

“What?”

“You’ll give me a ride to work.”

“I will?”

“Yeah.  I’ll make it worth your while,” she said as she spread her legs and stroked her labia.

“Are you proposing sex in exchange for a ride to work?”

“You give me a ride and I’ll give you a ride.”

I looked at her pussy.  She said, “What?”

“Now I see where I cum in.”

“That’s right, Daddio.  That’s where you cum in.”

“I wonder what you tell your Uber drivers.”

“We’ll find out tonight.”

Naked and still dripping wet from the shower, I got into bed with her.  She was dripping wet for other reasons.  I came within seconds.

“That was so quick.  I hardly even warmed up,” she complained.

“I got what I bargained for.”

“Where are you going?”

“To the kitchen to make breakfast.”

“But, I want you.”

“You just had me.”

“I want you more.”

“Sorry, babe, there is no more.”

“But I need to get fucked.”

“I just fucked you.”

“I mean really fucked.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy.”

“I need a cock that can complement my cunt.  Reach in the closet and grab my Remus.  I’m going to ram that baby home so far that tonight I’ll be so stretched I won’t even feel a human cock in me.”

“Oh, we’re having sex again tonight?  Very presumptuous of you.”

“I’ll be having sex, but I didn’t say it would be with you.”

I passed her the giant box containing her horse-cock dildo and went into the living room where I turned on “Old Town Road.”

Yeah, I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road
I’m gonna ride ’til I can’t no more
I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road
I’m gonna ride ’til I can’t no more

I got the horses in the back

I heard screams from down the hall.  She was calling for me.  I went into the bedroom and found her backing into the flared phallus attached to the headboard.

“That was fast,” I said, “It took me longer to make toast.”

Though she had already cum, she said, “I want your cock.”

“But we have to leave soon.”

“That’s ok, I want it to go.”

“To go?  But you’re naked, filled to the hilt with an equine appendage.”

“I want it to go in my mouth.”

I humored her by unzipping my pants and pulling out my flaccid cock which she eagerly and easily cupped along with my balls orally.  Her mouth came off of me with a ‘pop’ sound and she said, “Pass me the other dildo.”

Reached under the bed and pulled out her double-ended 16” toy and she licked it before manipulating it into her ass.

“Did you have breakfast?” she asked, looking up at me as she eased back on both dildos.

“I’m making it now,” I said.

“Well, I can be your double-stuff dessert.”

“I’ll leave you three to get better acquainted,” I said as I went to tend to my food.

Later, as she was getting dressed, she said “What are you looking at?”

“Your puss.”

“Well, you already got yours.”

“And you already got yours.”

“That thirty seconds?  Believe me, it was nothing to write home about.”

“You write home about sex?”

“Doesn’t everybody?”

“I don’t.”

“No, you write books about sex.”

She was dressed and ready to go in about two minutes.  “By the way,” she said, “you’ll have to change all the sheets later.  I’d strip the bed myself, but I’m late.”

“I’ve never known you to pass up stripping for anything.”

“Well, there’s a reason why they call it Masturbation Mondays.”

“Who calls it that?”

“I do.”

“I’ve heard of Manic Monday, a case of the Mondays, and Sunday Scaries, but never Masturbation Mondays.  Why do you call it that?”

“Cause, every Monday I have to continue my masturbatory sessions at work.”

“Of course you do.  What about Tuesdays and Wednesdays?”

“Well, pretty much any day I go to work that ends in ‘y’.”

We were in the car on the way to her office and we hit a ton of traffic.  Pissed at how much time I was taking out of my morning to drive her, I said, “Wow, you got a lot of work out of me for only thirty seconds of play.”

“The shorter the fuck, the more I should get for it.”

A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition

“A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition” first appeared in ENM (Ethical Non-Monogamy) Magazine, March, 2020 issue.

It was said by the renowned sex researcher, Alfred Kinsey, that “A nymphomaniac is someone who has more sex than you do.”  It would seem that modern psychology has caught up with Kinsey’s insight.  The dictionary of psychological disorders, the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (DSM), removed nymphomania from its list in 1980.  But does that mean Nymphomania no longer exists?

In popular culture “sex addiction” has been used as a catch-all for a number of “disorders” that have been named and described: hypersexuality, compulsive sexual behavior, erotomania, hyperfilia, etc.  But the DSM puts almost all of these under one listing: Sexual Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.  This heading is as ambiguous, amorphous, and as slippery as the subject itself.

However, let’s keep in in mind that no matter how something is categorized or listed, it’s not a “disorder” unless it is distressing to the person exhibiting it or has detrimental effects in one’s life.  If the result of the behavior is a net negative, then it could be labeled a disorder.  That net negative could be manifested psychologically, as in feelings of guilt and remorse, or could result in actual physical harm to oneself.  Other net negatives could include weakening of relationships, loss of a job, or other harms external to oneself.

Fan, getting off to Lo at work

In modern European and American culture, nymphomania has as checkered a past as the women diagnosed with it.  Even though there is a male correlate to it – satyriasis – the two labels have been employed in radically different ways.  Historically, the ascription of “nymphomaniac” has been applied to women who, had their gender been ascribed to men and the behaviors described as those of men, rarely would they be described as afflicted with satyriasis.  In other words, historically, women exhibiting the same healthy and robust sexuality of men would be diagnosed with a disorder while their male counterparts gained the praise and admiration of others as Don Juans.

But, in the last decade or so, with the rise of internet porn, the term “sex addict” has been increasingly utilized in less stereotypical and gender specific, patriarchal ways.  Famous actors such as Rob Lowe, David Duchovny, and Charlie Sheen all have come out as being sex addicts, making it easier for others to do so.

Despite the DSM debunking the myth of nymphomania and our modern society’s willingness to embrace a more gender-neutral term applicable to men and women, the term “nymphomania” and its connotations continues to live on in the culture’s consciousness and the collective unconscious.

Fan, getting off to Lo

Nymphomania is a concept that has a history to it almost as old as civilization itself.  In Jewish lore there was Lilith, the contemporary or predecessor of Eve, who refused to be subservient to Adam and, supposedly, insisted on taking the “top” position during sex.  Her name is derived from the Hebrew for “night” and she is associated with other female night demons who seduce men.  As such, she is a succubus.  This tale probably has its origin in explaining men’s nocturnal emissions.

Throughout history, assertive women and sexually promiscuous women have been associated with the demonic.  Accusing a woman of being a witch was one way of marginalizing or eradicating powerful and lustful women.  In more recent times, diagnosing them as hysterical was another.  Perhaps if we rewrote history as “hystery” (from the Greek, hyster, meaning “womb”) we would have different stories to tell.  But, from the ancient Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh, in which the goddess of love, Ishtar, unsuccessfully tries to seduce the hero, and the temple prostitute, Shamhat, successfully seduces and thereby defiles the natural man of the wild, Enkidu, to Helen of Troy, whose face and unfaithful figure launched a thousand ships, to the Sirens and Calypso, all the way through to Gatsby’s fair Daisy Fay Buchanan, wanton women have been revered and rebuked by the West’s confused attitude toward female sexuality.

In the West, only Virgins, like Mary, and doting, devoted wives, like Penelope and Henry James’ Isabel Archer, get univocal approval.

(The East, by contrast, is not as uncomfortable with strong, sexual, and wise women.  From Cali to Guan Yin, not only are they revered and worshiped, but even the gender ambiguity of Vishnu is given prominence.)

Even in the contemporary medium of myth-telling – movies – the nymphomaniac is never depicted as anything but pathological and her fate is always a morality tale told from the point of view of the negative exemplar.  Lolita, the touchstone of our modern-day horny heroine, has been made into a movie twice: once in 1962 by Kubrick and once in 1997 by Adrian Lyne.  Based upon the classic book by Nabokov, the films and the book stand in a league of their own.  The ultimate fate of Nabokov’s Lolita (spoiler alert) is morally ambiguous.  Clearly a letdown to the pedophile protagonist, Humbert Humbert, when he finds his life-long love at the end of the book, we are never given any insight into mature Lolita’s feelings of fulfillment in family or lack thereof.  However, it is, perhaps, too hasty to say that there have only been two Lolita films made.  One of the most popular tropes in porn is Lolita.  In this way the myth of the nymph lives on and on.

Lola Down, 21st Century Lolita

Other films, such as Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac and Craig Brewer’s Black Snake Moan, put nymphomania front and center.  However, in both, the female protagonist is depicted as pitifully damaged and pathologically in need of redemption.  In the latter film, that redemption takes the form of Christina Ricci, dressed only in her panties and a cutoff t-shirt, being chained to a cast iron heating radiator by a strong black man (Samuel L. Jackson).  As psychologically dubious as this “treatment” might be, it could be said that the film gets to some deep, underlying archetypical images and fantasies buried in the American collective unconscious by playing on race, gender, and slave tropes.

The former film, Nymphomania, as drab and sexually non-stimulating as it is, does get to some diagnostic characteristics.  As Robert Weiss, founder of the Sexual Recovery Institute, has discussed in his “Thoughts on Nymphomaniac: Volume I,” in the Huffington Post, March 20, 2014:

Nymphomaniac: Volume I is “sex addiction accurate.”

  • Joe’s sexual exploits start out (rather early in life) as innocent and fun-seeking, but before long she’s using them less for enjoyment and more for escape. This is typical. Simply put, addicts of all types engage in their addictions not to feel better, but to feel less.
    • Joe views men as objects — a means to sexual gratification — rather than seeing them as equals and potential partners in emotional intimacy. When her lies actually ruin one man’s life, she feels nothing for either him or his wife and kids. Nor does she change her behavior.
    • Joe spends nearly all of her free time pursuing sex. She has no other interests or hobbies.
    • Joe’s sexual activity escalates in both amount and intensity. She has more and more partners as her addiction progresses, and she engages in ever-more risky behaviors.
    • Joe’s response to any sort of emotional crisis is sex. When her father is terminally ill in the hospital, she has sex with an attendant. Later, she experiences sexual arousal at his deathbed.
    • Joe seeks a sense of control and power through sex. For instance, she ‘allows’ or ‘forbids’ certain activities. At one point she speaks to Seligman about ‘privileges’ granted to one of her regular sex partners. Using sex to feel ‘in control’ is common with sex addicts, especially with female sex addicts.
    • Joe appears to have not bonded appropriately with her ‘cold hearted bitch’ of a mother, relying on her father for kindness and nurture. Her childhood flashbacks show that she learned ways to ‘please’ her father, and that doing so was incredibly important. Even though their relationship does not appear to have been sexual or otherwise abusive, it is clear that she learned early on that the way to get love from men is to please them. This type of dysfunctional childhood bonding is common in sex addicts of both genders.
    • By the end of the film, Joe’s entire life (not just her sex life) has become ‘monotonous and pointless.’ She compares her daily movements to those of a caged animal. Everything she does is rote and repetitious, and nothing has any meaning — especially not the sex. At one point she says to a partner, during sex, ‘I can’t feel anything,’ and it is clear that she is talking about both physical numbness and emotional numbness.

Though Weiss points out in the article that female sex addicts are often ascribed “highly shaming labels” such as nympho, slut, tramp, and whore, “that society routinely attaches to women who have a lot of sex, regardless of whether they do so because they enjoy it” or not, he does not in any way discuss the possibility of a positive nymphomaniacal experience in which those labels are coopted into accolades.

The linguist Geoff Nunberg has pointed out that many one-time derogatory and profane words have been coopted and reappropriated by the subjugated, marginalized, and oppressed populations against whom the slurs were originally leveled.  As he says about the term “slut,” “after a Toronto police constable told a crime prevention meeting that women should avoid dressing like sluts if they don’t want to be victimized,” “slut walks” served as a way “to protest the whole culture of slut-shaming.”  He points out that, “it is hard to imagine ‘slut’ being reclaimed the way ‘queer’ was, as a respectable label for academic programs and cultural centers.” (“Slut: The Other Four Letter S-Word,” on Fresh Air, WHYY, NPR, March 13, 2012)

This sort of reevaluation of values is exactly what Lo is literally embodying, pushing psychology today to free itself from the prejudices of patriarchy.  She wears the labels “slut,” “tramp,” “whore,” and yes, “nymphomaniac” proudly (and she often wears little else).  Between us, we use the words “nymphomania” and “slut” as honorifics rather than stigmatizing terms.  Every slur can be reclaimed and used subversively by the oppressed.

There is some evidence that lustful, liberated women are making inroads into the tyranny of normativity.  Thinkers such as Rollo May have proposed a theory of the daimonic, hearkening back to the origin of “demonic” as coming from the Greek “daimon.”  For the Greeks, daimon meant something more akin to a personal deity; a guiding angel, you might say, rather than a guardian angel.

May uses the term “daimonic” to denote a drive that is not univocal in nature and, in one word, is akin to Freud’s dual Eros/Thanatos drives.  As May says of the daimonic, it “has the power to take over the whole person.  Sex and eros, anger and rage, and the craving for power are examples.  The daimonic can be either creative or destructive and is normally both.”  (May, Rollo, Love and the Daimonic, p. 123)  It is worth mentioning here that, before May and Freud, there was a theory of human psychology in Judaism that posited two chambers in the heart: the yetzer tov and the yetzer ra.  The former, “the impulse for good,” and the latter, “the impulse for evil,” worked in tandem and the rabbis believed that neither was “evil” (unlike the proverbial Christian good angel and devil on one’s shoulders), but that the yetzer ra was a force that propelled humans to creativity and sexual union, but it needed to be bent toward the yetzer tov in order to avoid its destructive tendency and be sublimated into socially acceptable expressions and activities that benefited society.  One can easily see the parallels between that and Freud’s Eros/Thanatos theory.  Perhaps “parallel,” is too benign.  Maybe Freud was more plagiarizing from his own tradition.  In line with this theory of complementarity, May has said, “The daimonic (unlike the demonic, which is merely destructive), is as much concerned with creativity as with negative reactions.”  (Diamond, Stephen A., Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic: The Psychological Genesis of Anger, Madness, and the Daimonic, from the Forward by Rollo May, p. xxi)

In the nymphomaniac, the daimonic drive has been described as a propensity toward indiscriminate, compulsive, and often risky sexual behavior.  To the extent that this is dangerous, harmful, and results in negative net results, it is “pathological.”

But that’s not the whole story.

As was mentioned above, the daimonic is also the engine driving creativity and the nymphomaniac can use her prurient powers for good, positive, “healthy” outcomes.  As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, the pioneer psychologist in the study of “flow” or “optimal experience,” has said, “One manifestation of energy is sexuality. Creative people are paradoxical in this respect also. They seem to have quite a strong dose of eros, or generalized libidinal energy, which some express directly into sexuality.”  (Csikszentmihalyi, Mihaly, “The Creative Personality,” Psychology Today, 1996, p. 38) I believe that the reverse of this is true as well: One manifestation of sexuality is creative energy.  Perhaps that is because, as Csikszentmihalyi also says, “a certain spartan celibacy is also a part of [the creative person’s] makeup; continence tends to accompany superior achievement. Without eros, it would be difficult to take life on with vigor; without restraint, the energy could easily dissipate.”  (Ibid.)  Of course, the nymphomaniac is characterized by her lack of “continence,” but that does not mean that her prodigal participation in pleasure isn’t also a creative, artistic, and perhaps even a performative act.  Seeing sex and art as two separate realms is the fundamental error in this analysis.  Sex can be every bit a creative endeavor, full of “flow” and genius as a Picasso or Pollock painting.  The only difference being that the “results” are fleeting, ephemeral, perhaps even “dissipated.”

In my particular case, I would say that writing about Lola Down, my own personal high priestess of porn and beloved nymphomaniac, is also a result of the daimonic and the writing often flows of its own accord in peak moments, like autographia.  According to Csikszentmihalyi, flow is the experience of intense concentration during creative endeavors.  For me, that describes the act of writing.  For Lo, that describes the act of fucking.  For me, the restraint and “continence” is crucial to produce just the right amount of effulgent energy.  But for Lo, her creative power may be more akin to “the woman who identifies with the archetypal role of Muse or femme inspiratrice, providing sexual love to artists.” (Diamond, Stephen A., “What Motivates Sexual Promiscuity?” Psychology Today, 2011)

This is not to say that Lo doesn’t have her own creative endeavors, her own talents, interests, and areas of outstanding achievement.  Far from it!  But she does love being celebrated as muse, not only by me, but by all the artists who have been inspired to draw or paint her, as well as those who have written lovely verse and prose to her and about her.  In addition, she frequently hears from women and men and couples who credit her as an inspiration in the bedroom.  Frequently these accolades are accompanied by “tribute” photos of the men, women, and couples cumming to her inspiring images.

As much as all this worship is proudly welcomed by Lo, it is also of concern how many people – mostly men, but some women – write in to lament that, for them, the nymphomaniac is akin to some sort of mythical figure, a unicorn, a phoenix, or the Holy Grail.  These awestruck admirers cannot believe that one actually exists, in the flesh, as it were.  They had heard rumor of such creatures, but had never met one or received confirmation of their reality.  Lo, like the Holy Grail, is for them a receptacle into which they can pour forth all of their hopes and dreams (and bodily exuberances) and also a cup that runneth over, spilling forth for all who thirst for her baptismal water.

Is this perceived paucity of nymphos due to the stigma attached to the term, repression of sexuality, or a failure to recognize and reclaim the term in a positive light?  I don’t have the answer to these questions, but one thing was clear early on in my relationship with Lo – I was unable to find anyone writing about their nymphomaniacal girlfriend and the great challenges such relationships entail.  So I began writing about it in a public forum in order to inform others and also to find out if others could inform me.  It’s been a fun and enlightening journey and I thank all of you for your words of wisdom, encouragement, and envy.  But most of all, I thank Lo for opening me up to all new vistas of life’s possibilities.

email downloladown@gmail.com for more info