Tag Archives: nympho
Protected: The Master
Protected: Immoral Support
Protected: Res Ipsa Loquitur, or The Pencil Test
I Need a Dirty Woman, I Need a Dirty Girl
1
We were into December. It had been almost a month since our last “drive-in” date with Ron and Nicole. In the meantime, they kept up an intense correspondence with us through email. Turns out that they have three kids, all under ten, and she has been dealing with some health issues that have impaired her energy and libido. He is an avid nudist and exhibitionist who loves to go to clothing optional beaches and bare it all! Although he doesn’t have that much to bare. Not to worry, Lo is always intrigued by different shapes and sizes.
Ron
Poor Ron was eager to please – his wife and anyone who would have him. Nicole, however, was not so keen on sex. Even before her medical problems dampened her desire, she was not enthusiastic about her sex life with Ron. They had dated since high school. They were raised as good Catholic kids and told not to have sex before marriage. They got married in their early twenties and that’s when Nicole was disabused of the adage “size doesn’t matter.” No. It really did matter for her. But, due to her upbringing, she wasn’t able to think about alternatives. Masturbation, sex toys, other partners were all off the table. She wasn’t even comfortable with having sex in any other position than missionary.
Nicole
After the birth of their third child and the onset of medical issues, she not only couldn’t feel Ron’s cock, but wasn’t interested in it anymore either.
They had tried a couples’ counselor, a marriage therapist, and now were working with a sex coach. They went to a woman Ron had found on the internet who specializes in Catholic sexuality. She had suggested that they both explore their own bodies alone, with porn, erotica, or whatever excited them. For Ron, that was easy – nude beaches, exposing himself, and being seen, even if only virtually were already in his wheelhouse. He had discovered a number of websites where he could hang-out as much as he wished and no one would be offended.
Ron & Nicole – the happy couple
For Nicole, this was much more difficult because her sexual desire was directly related to her guilt. She required multiple special sessions, one-on-one, with the sexologist. Through the coaching, she slowly learned to appreciate sex and sexuality in a new way. Rather than think of it as a necessary bodily function that had to be endured in order to achieve a certain result, much like relieving oneself in the privy, she was opened up to the idea that sex was sacred, divine, and a sacrament. The Church doesn’t often promote this aspect of sex. Why would they? The officers of the institution are all celibate! It would be like college professors encouraging students to get an education outside of academia.
Nicole
Slowly, Nicole came round to the notion of at least accepting her sexuality rather than being ashamed of it. And that went for Ron’s sexuality as well – if Nicole could accept that she is a sexual being, then this was the first step to accepting that Ron is also a sexual being. The next step was to realize that sexuality is not experienced or expressed uniformly. It is like the sun – its origin is the same, but how it illuminates various objects depends on the individual make-up of each object. Some are square and green. Others are round and pink and white stripes. Similarly, we all feel sexual urges, but they manifest differently for each of us. For some that means hetero, monogamous, vaginal intercourse. But for others, it can be expressed in a myriad of ways – from men wearing woman’s panties, to women donning strap-ons.
Nicole
This was a great hurdle for Nicole to overcome. But, along the way, she was willing to try new things for the sake of the relationship. Through Ron’s explorations of the interweb, he found Lola, struck up a correspondence, included Nicole, and eventually we had our first “date,” which I already described for you. Through our correspondence, it became clear that Ron desperately wanted Lo and Nicole desperately wanted to be like Lo.
Nicole
Lola in her thong
They were eager to have a second date. Due to COVID, we had to take the same precautions, but we arranged to meet in a remote spot, far outside of our city, so that the experience wouldn’t be foiled again.
Ron hanging out
Nicole’s medical issues had done things to her body that caused her even more shame. She didn’t want us to be shocked so, in preparation for our second date and to help her become more comfortable with her body (that Ron, incidentally, found very desirable) she posed for some boudoir photos taken by her husband. They emailed them to us.
“Do you still want to do this?” she asked, afraid we’d be turned off by how gravity distorted her once toned and tight flesh.
“Yes!” replied Lo, enthusiastically. “Every body is beautiful in its own way.”
Much was the same on our second date as it was on the first. Cold. Late night. Dark, vacant parking lot. The two cars parked next to each other. But this time Lo had put some thought into the “performance” she wished to put on for the struggling couple. She stripped naked and danced seductively in front of their headlights. They had on their high-beams and, thanks to the chill, Lo’s were on too!
Lo sauntered up to the passenger side window where Nicole sat and pressed her tits up against the glass. Nicole and Ron had removed their clothing too and Lo could get an imperfect view of them behind the frosted glass and through the round figure eight where her tits had melted the icy coating.
Nicole
Lo returned to the car where we had the heat blasting and took out her phone. She called Ron. Their phone was on speaker, as was ours.
“Did you like what you saw?” Lo asked.
“Very much,” replied Ron.
“Are you hard?” asked Lo.
“As hard as I can get,” he said.
“Yeah, I saw. Two inches?”
“Slightly longer than that, when I’m hard.”
“I’m stroking him,” chimed in Nicole.
“Suck him,” commanded Lo.
“Can we watch you suck off HH?” she asked.
Lo looked up at me. “Will you stay hard if we go outside?”
“For you, darling, anything.”
First she warmed me up in the car with her mouth, the wetness of which only made the shock of the cold air even more acute.
We got in front of the headlights and Lo got on her knees, taking me in her mouth.
We lasted like that for about a minute or so, but then hopped back into the heated car.
Nicole said that Ron had cum already.
“What about you?”
“I haven’t cum in ages,” she said with a certain sadness in her voice. She also sounded resigned to this fact.
“HH is going to suck on my hard nipples,” said Lo, taking me to her chest. “I can cum through nipple stimulation alone.” She didn’t mean to sound as if she was bragging, but wanted to inform them why she’d soon be moaning and even calling out that she’s cumming.
Lo’s Orgasmic Nipples
“I wish I could,” said Nicole.
As I sucked, bit, stretched, nibbled, and tongued Lo’s nipples, we could hear Ron and Nicole getting their clothes back on. They drove away as Lo climaxed, but they left the phone on to hear it.
When Lo regained her composure, she went down on me as I put the car in reverse and drove home.
Truthfully, I forgot that Lo’s phone was still on as I commented about how hot Lo was and what a show she put on for the couple.
Lo occasionally took her lips off of my cock to remark about how she wished we weren’t in COVID times so she could have let Nicole suck her tits through the window or so she could have gone over to the driver’s side, reached down between Ron’s legs and give him a handjob.
She resumed sucking as I drove the abandoned streets. She said she wished that Nicole would wear a strap-on and fuck her over the hood of the car.
Suddenly, through Lo’s phone, we heard moaning and heavy breathing. It was loud – loud enough for us to hear it over my own heavy breathing and Lo’s slurping. It was Nicole. She was cumming.
Ron informed us after the peak had subsided that Nicole masturbated (for the first time!) in the car on the ride home, listening to us and the dirty things Lo was saying and she managed to bring herself to a clitoral climax.
Mission accomplished.
Match, Cinder & Spark Vol. V: Shorter Shorts Reviewed
This amazing review needs to be read in its entirety! Thank you so much to the wonderful people at TehBen.com for all the support!
Protected: Lola Does NOLA
Interview With a Sex Addict
Interview with a Sex Addict
AL gets a new monitor to look at Lo in hi-def while working from home, his wife in the next room
This week, we bring out our resident admitted and diagnosed sex addict, AL, who goes by “Al.” He graciously agreed to answer a few questions about sex addiction, for educational purposes. Lo enthusiastically put on her correspondent’s had (and nothing else) and went to work interviewing him and then, took off the newsgirl hat and teased him, as she does.
- How do you define “sex addict”?
Without Googling, I define a sex addict as someone who compulsively engages in sexual behaviors, despite any negative effects created by said behaviors. They’ve shaped/changed their arousal palette, neural pathways, and reward center to release that sweet, sweet dopamine when engaging in their desired sexual behaviors, even if those behaviors result in negative consequences affecting self, family/friends, job, etc.
- Do you consider yourself a sex addict?
Yes, and if not a sex addict—then definitely addicted to lusting after HH/Lo’s pictures and words! Some days I’ll wake up with Lo on my mind and even though I could just stroke right there and cum—I’d much rather click through her pictures and read their words, first.
- Tell me more. How did you come to the conclusion that you are a sex addict?
Obviously, I was living life under the self-delusion that I just had high sex drive and a wandering eye. But after multiple therapists—which were a waste of time in the beginning since I never was actually honest about the extent of my situation—I had one in particular suggest that maybe I have a sex addiction. She also stated that it wasn’t her expertise, so she couldn’t help me in the way I needed. After some reading and podcasts, I reached out to a CSAT (Certified Sex Addiction Therapist) and decided to “come clean,” which coincided with my “rock bottom.” It was through her that I was diagnosed as having a sex addiction.
- Tell me what “rock bottom” meant for you since we all have different bottoms (no pun intended).
What I mean by rock bottom…long story, short: I racked up multiple thousands of dollars on credit cards in my name (via webcam girls, buying girls things, etc.); I was constantly checking sites like PornHub, Xvideos, eFukt, mysexlifewithlola.com; stopping by strip clubs for lap dances; even seeking out guys with whom to share naked photos/videos of my wife; seeking escorts for random encounters; cheating on my (then) fiancée with girls that she hated.
- You’re married to a beautiful, sexy woman. How’s that relationship?
Yes, she is very beautiful and sexy. We’ve been married five years, and together for over ten. We’ve definitely experienced our share of ups and downs. It’s the downs that seem to linger, but that is part of the work. She picked up on some red flags but continued on (as did I). Historically, she hasn’t had a ‘high’ (or medium for that matter) sex drive, and mistakenly, I used to ascribe a lot of the blame on her for my acting out. That was wrong of me. Part of the process involved a ‘disclosure’ of all events/actions that I had hidden away—that was difficult, borderline catastrophic. I ended up making it worse by not being completely honest during my first disclosure, meaning I didn’t come clean to all the details until a second disclosure months later.
Ironically, we’re closer and more strategic (in a non-sexual way) with our relationship now that I’m in recovery. She also sees a therapist who is familiar with partner betrayal (which is very important, or else sometimes the partner receives an unfair share of shame and blame). She doesn’t fully understand (can anyone, really?) but she’s working hard, as am I (sometimes). We do not have sex often, as I’m sure one might wonder…in fact, I’m lucky if it’s once a week and not a quickie. I can see that a day doesn’t go by where it doesn’t hurt her, but life is complicated, and the goal is to be in a better spot than we were.
[Trigger Warning – non-consent]
- Did you have any formative sexual experiences in early life?
Yes. At age 3 or 4, my next-door neighbor—who was around 5- or 6-year-old—introduced me to kissing and touching. She would take me in to the closet and show me first-hand what she must have been introduced to by whomever was (sadly) showing her. Additionally, when I was six, I had a handful of experiences involving my cousin (same age) and her friend, “trying to be like adults.”
I would also add that access to pornography at a young age was formative in itself. The internet really changed things, as well. I grew up in an unstable household; I sought pleasure and seclusion. Given those needs and that environment, it’s no wonder to me that I latched on to the pleasures of ‘sex’ to escape.
- Best sexual experience?
This is a tricky one…my best sexual experience would most likely be with one of my exes— she was amazing in bed…always wanted to fuck, loved to swallow, and LOVED doing it in public places. I think we were at some random party and their bathroom suited us just fine!
- Worst sexual experience?
Is that possible? JK. One of the worst experiences would be one of my first escort experiences. The situation was shady AF, which only prevented me from getting (and remaining) hard. I hadn’t experienced that before, and it was awkward. I remember desperately trying to squeeze my flaccid condom-covered cock inside of her. She understood, but I ended up having to settle for a hand job.
- Who knows of your addiction, if anyone?
As it stands right now, five people are aware of my addiction: my counselor, my wife, my wife’s best friend, one of my closest friends from high school, and oddly enough, one of my professors from my first year back at school. I’ve debated sharing with my brother (I think he has some similar issues) and my 14-year-old son.
- How long have you been in treatment for sex addiction? And do you feel it has worked?
I’ve been in treatment for 3+ years now with a CSAT. It definitely helped me become more aware. I’m sure there are workbooks, strict plans, etc. Before disclosure, we simply identified the really ‘bad’ behaviors (escorts, strip clubs, webcam girls) and put in mitigation efforts (GPS tracking on phone, website filters on phone and laptop). That’s actually the easy part. The hard part is the act of disclosure (if you’re honest enough), and all of the ‘work’ when no one is looking—that’s where the real gains can be made (or lost).
- What would you say to people reading this who are asking themselves: Am I a sex addict or do I just have a healthy sexual appetite?
I would say: enjoy sex. I personally see it as a life enhancer (similar to good food or music); however, if things start getting bad and you’re hiding a lot from people, that can spiral and add so much (unnecessary) stress. Long story short, if there are bad things happening because of one’s sexual appetite, then one should at least look at their impact and see if any adjustments should be made. Life is much more fun being authentic!
- Have you ever met a female sex addict? If so, describe what that interaction was like?
I’ve only read about and been told about them, never meeting one in person. I know they’re out there, but the stereotypical addict seems to fall on males and the partner role is assumed to be female.
- Why do you think sex addiction has become such a popular topic lately?
I think it’s because sex sells and some people look at it as a crutch or excuse to do what they do. (Which is fine, unless you’re causing unnecessary damage as a result of it.)
- Have you read any literature out there about sex addicts or sex addiction? If so, what do you recommend?
Facing the Shadow, Patrick Carnes
“Sex Help with Carol the Coach” (podcast)
“Behind Closed Doors” with Dr. Kate Balestrieri (podcast)
- Would you prefer if you were not a sex addict? Why or why not?
I like being who I am, and I like what I’m into. What I’d prefer is being upfront with significant others, and saying: “Hey, this is me…like it or leave it.” I think I grew up in shitty situations, so I’d use sex, love, flirting, etc. as my drug. Throw in the internet, and being someone who is good at lying, and that’s a potent combination.
- Biggest trouble that sex addiction got you into?
This list is ongoing, but you’re only in trouble if you get caught! (JK) Gigantic credit card bills…I’m a sucker for spoiling a slut or camgirl, lol. Racking those up was the primary driver in hitting my bottom.
- You seem to be successful at your job and still married and a parent. Is there such a thing as a “high functioning” sex addict like there is for a “high functioning alcoholic”? Describe.
Actually, I do think there is such a thing. I was so intrigued by this question, that I even asked it of my counselor—she agreed. Part of being a high functioning sex addict would require being able to compartmentalize almost anything and any time. In doing so, you’re able to build a rationale on the matter. I also know the things I cannot do—although I want to: the strip clubs, seeing escorts, flirting with a slut. And so I am able to navigate the decisions I make, and the steps I take to cover up those decisions if they are of the variety that would ‘give me away.’
- Pros and cons of being a sex addict?
Pros: Good ol’ fashioned dopamine at a relatively inexpensive cost (not including the externalities); typically, a more open, and inclusive mind… Cons: Can be relationship killer, money-drainer, and/or source of depression if not approached correctly (is there a correct way? Asking for a friend, lol).
- Top five fantasy fucks?
#1 – You!
#2 – An all-night bang session with my wife and her best friend.
#3 – Be part of a gangbang…with some amateur local wife.
#4 – DVP (Double Vaginal Penetration, or two penises in the vagina) with my wife.
#5 – You!
- Sexual experience you haven’t had yet but would like to try?
I’ve always wanted to try a threesome, both MMF and MFF. Also, I’ve ALWAYS wanted to share my wife…I can think of multiple scenarios involving her…me watching, not watching, listening, being shown, etc.
- Bonus question: From what you know of me, do you think I’m a sex addict?
From what I’ve gathered, and if analyzed with the actual truths, I do. But do I think there are huge negative consequences affecting you? Probably not, given our society.
After our interview was over, Lo was naughty and engaged in the following interaction:
Lola: I wonder how your jacking off to me plays into your current recovery and relationship with your wife. For instance, what happens when I send you a photo like this?
Lola Teasing
AL: Besides the mini dopamine rush and flinch of my cock? Or, are you looking for how many times I’ve already clicked on the picture, to enlarge and admire it?
Lola: I like to know that you think about me when you stroke that lovely cock of yours to my photos. Now write about that experience. Include where your wife is. How you keep this solo session from her? How it makes you feel? How I make you feel?
AL: Right now, my wife’s sleeping next to me naked. I’m in the bed, hard as a rock, looking at your photos. To tell the truth, I forgot how hard I get reading about you; way harder than looking at porn, that’s for sure.
All solo getting off has to be done on the sly for me. My wife and I have a soft agreement that I’m supposed to inform her when I ‘take care of myself.’. . . I often seek out your photos to simply admire and your stories to see what you’re up to, but. . . one thing leads to another. I don’t always tell my wife when I got off alone and I certainly don’t disclose what I looked at/thought about, especially when it was you. But these behaviors do cause me to develop a guilt factor when I’m wanting to take care of myself—which I don’t necessarily like.
I am fully aware that you don’t help my addiction. However, I am also aware that I have needs too, and my mind is fully capable of rationalizing the fact that getting off to your pictures is a lot safer than the ‘acting out’ behaviors I used to engage in.
Keeping you – your pictures and your stories – hidden away from my therapist and my wife certainly doesn’t help my situation, but, as long as I am careful and respectful, it doesn’t necessarily hurt. I like to think it keeps me in somewhat of a steady-state (which I think is only possible because of the fact that I am ‘high-functioning’ sex addict, as you called it). Deep down, I know that these are behaviors that need to change in order to fully ‘recover.’ But I have to ask myself two things: “Is recovery what I really want?” and “Where’s the fun in that?”
Lola: So you’re saying that getting off to me is what we might call ‘harms reduction’?
AL: That’s an interesting take, but yes, sort of a lesser of two evils (although you’re not evil; naughty, yes, but not evil as far as I know, haha). It’s kind of like, I know it is still reinforcing neural pathways that I’m trying to change, but still I pursue that behavior because of my brain’s ability to rationalize and compartmentalize.
Lola: Thought experiment – what would happen if you were married to me and I constantly had guys (and gals) coming over in order to cum over, in, on, to, with, and for me and you were there to watch? Would that be a cure?
AL: Now that just sounds hot! If that scenario were real, and guys and girls were coming over to cum with, in, and on you, then I think I’d be in my happy place, as long as you (as my wife) wanted it, and so did I. (I do, btw, I very much do!)
Problem Solving
Lola on the phone, tits out
“Lola, it’s worse than it was before,” said MILF Meri.
“What do you mean, worse?”
“Just that.”
Meri had called late at night. Lo was in bed next to me. I could hear everything Meri said since it was so quiet at home and she was so demonstrably loud.
“Worse in what way?”
“Well, it used to be just a hand-job before bed. A soothing caress to help him fall asleep.”
“Yeah.”
“And now, it’s like every night, he’s sneaking around, waiting for Scott to fall asleep and begging me to go into the first-floor bedroom and let him fuck me.” That bedroom is Meri’s ‘masturbation room’ where Lo fucked Meri’s husband and three sons the week prior.
“Do you?”
“He’s very persuasive, very persistent. And, well, you know, he only lasts five minutes at the most. So, it’s just faster and easier to give in than to resist.”
“Meri, there’s your husband and your other two sons to think about. None of them know, do they?”
“No. Not at all. It’s the first time I’ve ever had to keep something about sex a secret.”
“What about your solo sessions in that room?”
“I usually would shut the door, but it was no secret what I was up to.”
“Usually?”
“I mean, I’d shut the door, but you know what it’s like in my house. One of the kids always needs something and they would open it without knocking or whatever.”
She was more upset about being interrupted than the invasion of privacy.
“But this is different,” she continued. “And he wants to do it in there because that’s where he had you. He opens up your books and looks at your photos while fucking me.”
“I have to go,” said Lo abruptly. She hung up.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I don’t want to be any part of that,” she said.
“Why do you think she called you?”
“It certainly wasn’t to figure out a solution to her problem. And even if it was, that’s her problem, not mine. Let her figure out how to solve it.”
She shut off the lights and silenced her phone.
“Night,” I said.
“Night,” she replied in the dark.
I didn’t fall asleep. I could tell she wasn’t falling asleep either. I looked at the clock. It was ten past ten.
I looked again. It was ten thirty.
I wasn’t sleeping. I could tell she wasn’t either. I didn’t move. I hardly breathed. I waited.
Fifteen more minutes passed.
I felt her move. She spread her legs. She reached under the blankets. Rhythmic motions. Sloshing sounds. Muted moan. Faster strokes. Sudden stop. “Fuck,” whispered in the dark. Convulsion. Release.
She reached for her breasts and caressed and squeezed them.
I was hard under the sheets.
“Jack me off,” I whispered.
She was startled. She thought I was asleep.
“What?”
“Jack me off.”
“It’s time to sleep,” she said, playing coy.
“Grab my cock and stroke it. Make me cum. Just like Meri and her son.”
She obeyed.
“Like this?” she asked as she held me firmly.
“Use some lube,” I instructed.
She reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out the tube. She keeps it there, reserved only for me since she has her own, natural lubricant.
She squeezed a dollop into her palm and reached under the blankets again, sliding her hand around my cock. That first, cold, wet, firm squeeze is the best part of her handjobs.
“You can’t get them out of your head, can you?” I asked.
“No, Daddy.”
“You’re a bad, dirty, depraved, morally degenerate girl.”
“Yes, Daddy. Can I suck your cock?”
“No.”
“Please, Daddy.”
“No.”
“Do you want to fuck me?”
“No.”
“Do you want to use me?”
“Only your hand.”
“Why?”
“Because, that’s what I want right now.”
“Do you want to fuck Stoya?”
“Yes.”
“OK.”
Stoya and her anal Fleshlight
She got up and pulled out the Fleshlight. She lubricated it and my cock properly. I was in a mood to deny her. I don’t know why. She slid the pornstar’s pussy on my rod. She lifted it and lowered it like a single-cylinder engine.
Stoya and her pussies
She could tell by my breathing I was getting close. She took Stoya off of me and replaced her with her mouth in order to coax all my cum out of me and swallow it. I can only imagine that the initial taste was unpleasant due to the lube. Didn’t matter to her. She wanted my ejaculate. She wanted to bring me to a climax with her mouth, not Stoya’s pussy. I gave her what she wanted and she swallowed every warm drop.
“Better Daddy?” she asked.
“Yes. You’re a good girl. Now it’s time for sleep.”
Stoya and Lola side-by-side
Tits Out
“Lo, are you watching porn again?” I asked as I noticed her lying on the couch, legs spread, hand cupped in her thigh-gap, her mind keenly absorbed in the screen of her phone.
“No,” she said defiantly.
“Then what are you doing in that provocative position?”
“I happen to be reading an article.”
“Oh yeah? What article?”
“It’s about the pandemic and relationships.”
“I’m curious. Tell me more.”
“Oh, it’s just about how some couples realized that their relationship was in shambles once they were deprived of all the other distractions in life.”
“Hmmm, sounds interesting. What’s it called?”
“I forget the title.”
“But you’re reading it right now. I’d like to read it too. What’s it called?”
“Fine,” she said, as if caught fibbing. “It’s called, ‘First Comes the Pandemic Divorce, Then the Tits Out Summer.’”
“Tits Out Summer, eh?”
Lola’s Tits Out
“It’s educational.”
“I bet it is.”
“Do you plan on having a ‘Tits Out Summer’ this year?”
“This year, every year: summer, winter, spring, fall – never a bad time for tits out.”
“Take ʼem out now.”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
She reached into her shirt and pulled her breasts out over the top.
“You’ll stretch it out that way,” I said.
“Stretch what?”
“Your shirt.”
“Oh, I thought you were talking about something else,” she said as she pulled at her nipples, elongating them.
“Mind if I snap a photo or two? You look divine.”
I pulled out my camera.
“You know,” she said as she posed, “I’ve been called an attention whore for just this sort of exhibitionism.”
“You don’t say. Preposterous.”
“The way I see it, nudes have always been considered fine art. That’s just how I consider myself – a priceless museum quality piece that should be on display in a venue open to the public.”
“You’re a piece alright! Very open to the public.”
“What are you implying?”
“I mean, in our day and age, the internet is the democratization of culture, the dissemination of information, the museum for the masses.”
“Quite,” she said as she pressed her tits together. “And the masses have spoken and I am the embodiment of their collective unconscious vision.”
“Humble too.”
She slid out of her panties and spread her legs.
“I know a photographer who takes photos of naked women,” she remarked.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You should introduce us. We have a lot in common.”
“Not really. That’s just my point.”
“How so?”
“Well, each of her models is ‘perfect’ in a traditional sort of way and therefore eminently forgettable.”
“I see.”
“I, by contrast, am unique in a memorable sort of way.”
“That you are.”
“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?”
I put down the camera and picked up my notepad and a pen.
“Daddy? What are you writing? I asked, do you want to fuck me?”
“You’ve inspired me,” I said as I scratched away at my note before it vanished from my mind.
“Read it to me,” she said when I put the pad down. She simultaneously picked up her two plungers — pink and blue (“pink for pussy, blue for bum”) and attached them to the bed’s headboard.
Pink Plunger
“Are you going to engage in double penetration?”
“That’s the objective,” she said, sliding back on the ribbed handles.
“Adventurous.”
“I like to think that I’m open to adventure. Will you read to me?”
I read from the notebook: “The most beautiful thing in the world cannot be seen, touched, or apprehended by the senses. It can only be approached by the mind, felt by the soul, and embraced deep within the heart. It nourishes the imagination and quickens thought. It is the noumenal trace behind the phenomenal appearance of the nymphomaniac, the sexually confident woman, the eternal feminine open to receive, willing to give, abundantly generous, her glory simultaneously concealing and revealing, her naked resplendence overwhelming thought through her appearance, yet shrouding her in mystery that tantalizes because always unattainable.”
“How Platonic,” she remarked, “and therefore, disappointingly sterile. Don’t you want to have me? Don’t you want to approach my body, feel my tits, and embrace me deep within my cunt? Though I adore your words and ideas, right now I just want you to fuck me.”
Her withering criticism of my inspired panegyric to her dissuaded me from continuing. If I wanted to praise her, I had to do it apart from words and phrases. I had to express my love, preferably through my second most penetrating and pleasing organ.
She pulled forward from the headboard, surprising both herself and me as the plungers remained in her holes and became dislodged from the surface where they had been affixed with a sudden pop! noise. She looked like an animal that had been shot twice with large darts in the aft. She reached back, pulled the plungers out and lay flat on her back on the bed, playing dead, but for both her hands fidgeting with her pussy as her legs were spread. She resembled human Mercedes sign.
“I think I’m comprehending your needs,” I said as I removed my clothes.
“Sometimes you’re a genius.”
“My dear, I’m always a genius. Sometimes I do stupid things.”
“I think it’s the other way around.”
I got between her legs and berated her as she bore the full brunt of my blunt instrument.
“The two brothers aren’t enough, slut? The three brothers and their father couldn’t satisfy your hunger for humiliation? MILF Meri didn’t cure your craving for cunt?”
She just spread her legs further and took my meat and degradation with stoic equanimity.
For me, at that moment, she was the axis mundi. Not the world navel, but the hole at the center of the world through which all things emerge in their creation and return in their destruction.
Her hole was wide, taking and giving, full of fluid and overflowing. There was a sloshing and splashing as she climaxed, after which she simply said, “And now in my ass, Daddy.”
Ass Please Daddy
I pulled out, flipped her over, and slid into her second axis mundi; antipode to the first, the demonic inversion of the fecund orifice.
In one fell swoop I securely conjoined with her and I felt as she gripped my member with intensity.
She cried out in pain, “Now you’ve gone too far!”
“You can’t know where too far is until you get there.”
“You’re hurting me,” she pleaded.
I pulled back, relenting.
“I didn’t say stop,” she called over her shoulder.
I rammed her repeatedly from the rear until her rhythmic response of “oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” transformed into a repeating release of “ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”
She could tell I was rapidly approaching the point of no return and so she lunged forward, and with a catlike quickness, pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, opening her mouth and taking my instrument of impalement deep into the back of her throat.
Instinctively, I pulled back, grabbed my manhood with my right hand, and let spew forth all of my liquid love for Lola.
She looked up at me as I painted her face the color of pearl and she said, “I only feel right on my knees, Daddy.”
I spread my legs wide and she got between them, snuggling into my thighs, and licked from balls to tip. She looked up at me and asked, “Did you like fucking my ass?”
Unable to respond, I put my hands through her thick mane and pressed her face close to my throbbing thermometer.
She opened her mouth and took it in, performing her practice of “cockwarming” as I slowly drifted off to sleep.
Did you like fucking my ass, Daddy?