You,
dear reader, already know that Lola is an inveterate masturbator. You also know that I am forbidden from any
onanistic activities, unless either explicitly given permission, or told to do
so as a performance for my dear Lola.
The fact that there is a gap in our respective frequencies of
masturbatory manipulation should come as no surprise to you, and writing about
it here would simply be redundant.
However,
what I do intend on explaining, or rather, complaining about, is the
fundamentally unfair masturbation gap that exists between Lola, me, and her
fans. You see, I am not allowed to
engage in solo pleasure, not even to Lola’s sexy photos, unless granted
permission by Lo herself. And she takes
so much delight in my stymied suffering and enjoys my engorged balls so much,
that she rarely gives me the green light.
But with her fans it is another story.
One might think that Lola has no say over what her admirers do in the privacy
of their own homes with her pixilated pussy.
But that is incorrect. One of
Lo’s most enjoyable pastimes is to give specific instructions to her loyal
lovers (both near and far) about exactly how they are to worship her image, pay
tribute to her form, and pleasure themselves.
One of Lo’s Long Admirers
One
adoring admirer writes to her and asks, “What’s up?” to which she replies, “If
you’re looking at my pics, then, your cock.”
She’s not wrong.
Another
writes to her and asks very politely, “Morning, Lola. How are you?” to which she replies, “Horny,
as usual. Now jack it for me.”
They
are more than eager to comply. It
matters not to them if they are at work, home, or, as Lola really likes, lying
in bed next to their sleeping wives.
A Very Happy Fan
She
commands some of them, especially the diminutively endowed guys, to go to a
lingerie store, like Victoria’s Secret, and pick out various silk, satin, and
lace panties for women. Then she
instructs them to put the panties on and jack it to her pics and cum in the
sexy, sheer, tight material – taking pics of it, of course. An even more intense kink of Lo’s is
commanding those same fabric fetish guys to steal the panties from their wives
or girlfriends in order to wear while jacking it to Lo’s photos.
Lo Loves All Her Fans, Big & Little
Those
are the lucky ones. There are some
unfortunate fellas who are stuck in cock-cages and can only enjoy Lo’s photos
without any self-pleasure.
And
then there are the women. It is such a
complement to Lo when lovely ladies from around the globe take photos of
themselves jillin’ off to her. I will
admit that I find it very flattering when the women also make a comment about
“the steamy writing,” or say, “that story made me cum five times.” It is nice to know that every once in a while
the literary seduction I work so very hard to create from the raw material of
Lo’s sexual exploits is appreciated, especially by the lonely women, the
married but unsatisfied wives, and the other sexual insatiables out there like
Lo.
A Lovely Couple – He took the pick of her getting off to Lola
There
was a time, early on, when I actually had a small cadre of female fans who
wrote to me regularly. It was, not
coincidentally, around that time that Lo took over the email and other social
media outlets, telling me, “You do the blog, I’ll spread the word.”
Reading the Blog
Spread
the word. . . yeah right! She meant,
she’ll spread her legs and then disseminate her photos across the
internet.
But I’m not complaining. I am glad that our little corner, or crotch, of the blogosphere makes so many people happy, even if it means that I must deny myself the pleasures that others get from my hotwife Lo. After all, I have to admit that I have nothing to complain about since fans and her lovers alike all tell me how lucky I am. Can’t argue there.
Reality often is
not the way you imagined it to be.
Lo and I had
planned a winter getaway vacation for months.
When the snow, wind, and cold was going to be bearing down on our little
hamlet, we would be miles away shoveling sand on the beach into sand castles
rather than snow from the driveway.
Part of this
planning included a jaunt to a well-known nude beach close to our vacation
bungalow. It also included many nights
of whispered fantasies that concluded with climatic, powerful orgasms (both of
the imaginary, young, well-hung men watching Lo and of Lo in the bed, her eyes
closed, calling out swears to the Lord).
When the blessed
day finally came and the sun was gloriously rising in the blue and pink sky, we
set our course for the illusive oasis.
We got there at
prime tanning time and Lo was eager to get her toes in the sand.
However, as we
walked along the strand something strange occurred to us. Rather than the hunky hung men and the
lovely, voluptuous ladies of our conjoined conjurings, what we found was mostly
old people proudly baring all of their wrinkled, sagging, shrunken, small, grey
body parts to the world. Maybe it was
because it was a Wednesday and, other than vacationers like ourselves, the young
folk were all at their day jobs.
Now, I’m no spring
chicken myself, but I saw Lo’s eyes desperately scanning the vicinity for the
tanned, trim, toned meat that she craved and growing more and more despondent
as we progressed.
At the same time,
I noticed among our septuagenarian and octogenarian observers a hunger for
fresh meat, as one would see in the eyes of vultures in the desert at the sight
of stray carrion.
“Lo,” I said.
“I know,” she
said, totally aware of what I was thinking.
“How you feeling
about this?” I asked.
“Whatever,” she
said, disappointed.
Lo found a sunny
spot close to the water, but still in sight of about three or four old men and
their heavy-set wives.
Without a smidge
of self-consciousness, Lo removed her sundress, then her bikini top, and
finally she wriggled out of her bikini bottoms, giving the lurking voyeurs the
glorious visage that they were waiting for.
Soon, about three
or four other old men found their way to our vicinity, like sharks detecting
the faintest drop of blood in the water from miles away. Lo lay on her tum and had me rub in the
sunblock as I whispered to her my report of the surroundings. She seemed to soak it up just as she did the
rays of sun.
When I had
caressed her from toe to trapezius, she turned over and applied the sunblock to
herself, slowly rubbing it into her feet, shins, thighs, tum, breasts, and a
dab on her nose. She smiled as she did
so.
As I scanned the
surreptitious watchers in the cheap seats, I noticed that some of them had
gotten their ancient organs up and hard.
Lo noticed as well. She turned to
me and asked, “You think they want me, Daddy?”
“Of course they
do,” I said flatly.
Her tongue ran
over her sparkly white teeth.
“Really?” I
asked. “You really are turned on?” I couldn’t disguise my disbelief.
“Well, you know
that I like older men.”
“I know you like
them older, but I didn’t know you liked them one heartbeat away from room
temperature!”
“Oh,
fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, squeezing her breasts with both hands and looking at
the men as they watched her.
Fresh Meat
Two or three of
them sat in the sand not far off from Lo and me.
“It’s hot,” I
said, “care to go in?”
“Oh no, Daddio,”
she replied, “I just got myself all covered.”
“Covered? Ha!
You’re the furthest from covered.”
“You go,” she
encouraged. “I’ll watch you.”
“You mean I should
go and watch you.”
She smiled.
I went into the
water. It was warm but still
refreshing. I swam a bit. Then I floated for a while and watched as the
men kept a close eye on Lo. Soon enough
I was out of their sight and mind. I
could see them move in to make small talk with Lo and Lo was all smiles and
sweetness to them. I couldn’t hear what
they were saying to each other, but they were keeping up a long conversation. At one point I think Lo pointed in my
direction. The men looked, but only for
a second. Then, one-by-one, they started
playing with their junk. Three of them
pulling and tugging on their little puds next to Lo. The other old men, the ones with their wives,
watched the scene unfold just as I did, from afar. Lo watched from point-blank range. I couldn’t hear her, but I saw her lips
moving. I’m certain she was encouraging
them. “Come on. You can do it. Cum.
Don’t you want to cum?” Her words
apparently weren’t enough. She began to
push up her tits, suck on her nips, and play with her pussy. The guys moved so they could have a better
look.
Treading water, I
began to wonder how long this was going to take. I didn’t want to get out and disturb
everyone’s fun. Luckily for me, it was
only about four or five more minutes before the first guy came, dripping his
cum into the sand. Then the second
guy. The third was not able to cum, but
I saw Lo move her hand to rub his arms and his side with her hand. He reached down to caress the instep of her
foot. She didn’t move away. He rubbed her foot more and then she lifted
her foot to his cock and put his little nub between her toes and stroked him. Within mere moments he ejaculated, dripping
his jizz over her toes.
The three men said
some pleasantries to Lo. She buried her
foot in the sand for a moment and then Lo got up and came into the water and
swam to me.
“Did you enjoy
that?” she asked.
“Funny,” I said,
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“No, I didn’t
enjoy it!” she protested.
“Then why’d you do
it?”
“For you.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Well, for them
too.”
“Altruism
abounds!”
“Oh, shut up and
fuck me.”
“What?”
“You heard me, ole
man.”
I swam to her and
entered her from behind, under water.
She moaned. We swam as one. She came within seconds as the waves crested
and fell, lifting us and gently descending.
When she was done,
she disengaged and swam back to shore.
“Hey,” I called out
to her, “What about me?!”
“Come on!” she
called back.
I swam and then
walked out of the water, my manhood hard as a rock pointing right at her.
“Mmmmm, Daddy!”
she said as she licked her lips.
She got on her
knees in the churning surf and she didn’t even have to take my cock in her
mouth. Just seeing her in that position,
thinking about what she just did, I came all over her face and tits.
Recently,
a new phrase has been popping up in various articles on sex, relationships, and
women: The Orgasm Gap. Sometimes it’s
referred to as “The Gender Orgasm Gap.”
It is the result of various studies’ data showing that women in
heterosexual relationships have far fewer orgasms than their male
partners. This gap disappears in gay
relationships.
There’s
plenty of literature out there for you to do your own reading into the matter,
but what I would like to discuss here is the orgasm gap that exists between Lo
and me. In our relationship there is
undoubtedly an orgasm gap, but it is the inverse of the one referred to above.
I’ve
conducted my own non-scientific study.
One October a few years back (I deemed it “O-month,” for “Orgasm Month”)
I did my best to count the number of orgasms achieved by Lola (either during
coitus or on her own) and the number achieved by me, your faithful author. The results were 70+ for Lo (not exactly sure
of the actual number because I was relying on her reportage of her solo
sessions and often she lost count), to my 18.
That’s approximately a 4:1 orgasm gap in favor of the female.
Now,
in our relationship there are many “understandings.” I am not allowed to jack it unless
specifically instructed by Lola. That
usually means in her presence, so she can enjoy it. I am not allowed to have sex with anyone
outside our relationship. Lo, on the
other hand (so to speak), has no strings attached. Solo sex, sex with others, accidental orgasms
– all are fair game for her.
But
a while back, when Lo was cross with me about something and thus withholding
her pleasures from me, I took matters into my own hands, literally. I got myself a Stoya Destroya
Fleshlight. It served the purpose at the
time. It also came in handy (can’t seem
to get around that double-entendre) one night when Lola was too inebriated to
give consent.
Lola Fingering Stoya
Lo
doesn’t like my using Stoya’s pussy. Her
jealousy reigns supreme. It matters not
that it is literally just a pussy and not a person. But the other night. . . .
I
had to work late. I was at the office
around 7 pm and I got a text from Lo saying that she was going out to dinner
with her friend Candice. Lo and Candice
had become close friends over the past few months. Candice is a self-described “thick”
woman. I would describe her as
lusciously zaftig. She is heavier than
Lo by at least fifty pounds. When they
met, she was in a committed relationship, but that fell apart very
suddenly. Lo became her go-to confidante
and wing-woman. They went to clubs,
bars, restaurants together about three or four times a week. I think Lo enjoyed the singles scene and
having someone to share it with. Candice
frequently found fuck-buddies, but was longing for a man who would be a
dedicated daddy. She admired Lo and was
particularly envious of our special relationship.
Candice
would often come over for brunch after her one-night-stands and dish the
details about it to both of us over mimosas.
And
then the other night. . . .
As
I was saying, Lo went out to dinner with Candice. I thought nothing of it since it had become
part of their repertoire. I figured that
Candice was horny and looking to find a cock to bring home for the night and Lo
was going to help her, as usual.
(A
little aside here: If I were granted permission to have sex with just one of
Lo’s friends, it would be Candice. I
find her voluptuousness very attractive.
But, either out of respect for Lo or lack of interest, Candice has never
reciprocated my flirtatious banter with her.
Unless, of course, the juicy stories she tells us about her sexcapades
are intended to rouse me, which they do.)
But
when I got home, I found Lo in bed, jillin’ herself silly. She had all her toys on the bed and it looked
like she had used each and every one. Currently
she was banging with the largest of the bunch.
It was stuck to the headboard and she was sliding her ass back, taking
it all in, and then sliding forward.
Back-and-forth, slapping her cheeks up against the wood and then easing
off. She didn’t stop when she saw me
enter the room. I sat and waited,
patiently by the foot of the bed. She
looked at me as she fucked her dildo.
Our eyes were locked as I saw her desperately trying to get off. When she finally climaxed, slid off the
dildo, and sprawled out in the sheets, legs spread and sloppy, I kissed her
hello.
“Are
you mad, Daddy?” she asked.
“Why
should I be mad?” I responded.
“Get
naked and I’ll tell you.”
I
did as she requested, got in bed next to her, and listened as she told me the
following story:
I went to
the restaurant to meet Candice for dinner, but I was early and she was
late. I sat at the bar and ordered a
drink while I waited for her. As I
waited, a handsome, young, black man came in and sat next to me. He was very good looking, very fit, and I
suddenly found myself getting very wet.
Candice
finally arrived and as I was finishing my drink, the young guy got up and went
to the bathroom. I turned to Candice and
told her how hot I thought he was. She
admitted to me that she thought so too.
When he
came back, he paid his tab and got up to go.
But Candice immediately went after him.
She told him what I had told her in confidence, and he returned to the
bar and sat between us. He started up a
conversation with me and I found out that he’s a football player for the
college.
As we
talked, he began rubbing my thigh and moving slowly further and further toward
my crotch. I didn’t protest.
Eventually
he came very close to me and kissed me.
I reciprocated. But then I pulled
away and told him that I was there for Candice – her wing-woman. She wasn’t supposed to be mine.
I think he
liked that. He showed an interest in
both of us and the thoughts that went through my mind. . . .
She
didn’t elaborate, so I asked her, “What thoughts would those be?”
I
was fully expecting her to say, “Get in me and I’ll tell you,” but she
didn’t. After a pregnant pause, awaiting
her command, I finally got between her legs, poised to strike, but she covered
up her crotch with both hands and protested, “No, Daddy! I can’t.
I’m sorry.”
“Why
not?” I asked, frustrated and eager.
“I
did myself a little too much. I’m
swollen and sore.”
Not
only did I want her, badly, but I also wanted to hear the conclusion of her
story just as badly. I asked her
politely if I could use the Stoya Fleshlight.
She said, “Why don’t you just use your fist like a
real man?”
“I
could ask you the same thing. Instead of
using your Hitachi, your 18” dildo, or your Remus, why don’t you just use your fist like a real slut?”
She
laughed despite her anger as she threw a pillow at me.
“Fine,
get her out,” she said.
“You’ll
hold it for me?”
She
didn’t answer. I rummaged through the
back of the closet and pulled out Stoya.
I grabbed the bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer and I got both
Stoya and me nice and slick. Lo took the
hefty contraption in two hands and I slid right in.
“Comfortable?”
she asked.
“Yes,
very,” I said, making her more jealous.
“Go on with your story.”
“You
like fucking her, don’t you?” she asked.
“Not
as much as fucking you.”
“You
like fucking Stoya. You like that she’s
a porn star. You like thinking about how
many men have fucked that pussy already, how many men have cum in it.”
Stoya’s Lovely Lady Parts
I
was getting very turned on by her dirty words.
“Nothing
would be hotter than seeing you make a porno,” I replied. “I would stand in the wings while the
director, the lighting crew, the sound engineers, and of course, the four or
five male porn stars stood around your naked body as two or three of them
fucked you on camera.”
“Do
you want me or do you want Stoya?”
At
this point, I admit, in my mind, Lola and Stoya were fused into one person as I
imagined the set of the film.
“Fuck
her! Fuck her good and hard! Come on,” she demanded. “Fuck that used, slutty pussy. Cum in her.
Cum deep in her,” she commanded.
I can never resist her commands.
I came and I came hard as Lo pressed the Fleshlight down on my shaft,
licking her lips as she watched me crumble as if struck by an arrow of pure
pleasure.
I
never did get to the end of her story that night.
Lola’s Lolvely Lady Parts
I
have no idea how many times Lo came before I got home, but this is just one
example of the so-called “Orgasm Gap” in our relationship.
