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Sexy Hotwife, Pornstar, MILF Sara Anne Reads Match, Cinder & Spark
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Sara Anne
Who is this sexy reader, you ask.
This is Sara Anne – hotwife, amateur porn star, MILF, and avid reader of Match, Cinder & Spark.
Wait! Correction! Sara Anne has actually now made the transition to professional porn star!
Sara Anne
This cute country girl, mom of two, hotwife of 17 years, has turned her fun – fucking other men – into a side hustle and now is going pro! She just did her first professional porno shoot and is looking forward to doing more.
She’s also an avid reader, as you might be able to surmise from the library she has. (I know that you’re looking at the books in the photo below.)
Sara Anne Rides
She recently reached out to us and kindly requested a promo copy to add to her collection. We were happy to provide it!
Enjoy Sara Anne!
Protected: Family Fan Mail
Labor Day – Two Women who Work
Mrs. Sins
Today is Labor Day and in honor of those who work, we want to introduce you to two friends (of ours and each other) who work hard for their money. We also want to ask you to support them through a very special gift.
Samantha (Sammi) Masog and Mrs. Sins.
I’ll let Sammi tell you about herself and her business:
My name is Sammi. I am from a small town in central Minnesota. I am currently expecting my first child. My husband and I are very excited and nervous! We have two beautiful little kittys named Heinrich and Leonardo. I have always loved photography. I am the person that notices the small things most would overlook.
While looking to make a living from the thing I love doing I stumbled across boudoir. It was super intriguing to me. It was a way for women to feel like the sexual creatures that they are, but also gave them a chance to see their beauty in a different light. We sometimes get stuck in being a role for other people and forget to see who we really are. So I started taking on clients. It was incredible to see these people light up with the way they saw themselves through my eyes. I ended up with a whole new appreciation for the human form. In every body is something truly spectacular. If you look for the beauty, it’s easy to see. Society has made this a much more difficult task, especially towards ourselves. Because of this and knowing exactly how it feels to be told you’re not pretty enough and that no one wants you, I want to make sure women everywhere know that is untrue. That led me to become a life coach. I wanted to help people in a more specific way. So I honed in on empowering women. Thus my Empowerment Coaching was born.
I coach women to unlearn the negative things about themselves and to learn how to embrace the beauty they already behold. Through monthly or biweekly session I help break down those barriers that keep us thinking “I wish I looked like (blank).” We work on affirmations to ensure that you are your most confident and true self. There is so much more to this world than just looking beautiful all the time. We need to cherish every part of ourselves. And I want to help people do that. When I combine coaching with my photography I can help women truly accept who they are and not who they think they should be.
Samantha Masog, Self Portrait
Samantha has used her talents and art to inspire so many women to be confident and proud of themselves. And, as she describes it, it is a labor of love. She also will be going into labor soon.
Speaking of going into labor, Mrs. Sins – already confident and proud of her beauty – took a set of photos when she was pregnant that we think you might enjoy!
Mrs. Sins expecting
Mrs. Sins Pregnant
Though she sometimes takes selfies, usually Mrs. Sins is photographed by her loving husband, Mr. Sins. Though he tends to be a little more camera shy than the Mrs.
Mr. & Mrs. Sins
Unlike a lot of the people we profile here, Mr. & Mrs. Sins don’t run an OF page or anything else to make money off of their artful photography. They do it for the sheer love of it.
Did I say “sheer”?
They recently requested a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts and said that they loved it!
Mrs. Addy Sins reads Match, Cinder & Spark
Cover as Cover Up
Sometimes Mommy Needs some Alone Time
In order to show our appreciation and to help out two amazing women, we ask you to contact Sammi and make a donation to help pay for Addy to do a boudoir session with her and get some professional sexy photographs made of her for Mr. Sins, you, and all of us!
You can contact her here:
Instagram: rose.lens.empower
Facebook: Facebook.com/roselensempower
We’ll update you with the results!
Mr. & Mrs. Sins
A Time to Love
Lola’s older sister, Roberta Go
“Gazing at the written world, seeing the elegant self-restraint that guards an inner decomposition, a biological decay until the last moment from the prying eyes of the world; that bilious, sensually disadvantaged ugliness that is able to kindle its smoldering fire into a pure flame and to even usurp the throne in the kingdom of beauty.”
– Death in Venice, Thomas Mann
“Really?” asked Lo as I mixed the gin in with the tonic and sliced up a sliver of lime.
“What?” I asked.
“It’s not even noon.”
“What is time in a global pandemic anyway?”
We were two weeks into lockdown. We were stranded in paradise. Far away from our everyday hustle and bustle, cold weather, friends and family, we followed the dire warnings about travel a week into our winter vacation to the beachside resort town. The sun was shining, the sea breeze gently moderating the temperature, the inviting golden sand beckoning us to walk through it barefoot. But all the amenities of this place were off-limits. One-by-one each pleasurable pastime was shut down, cordoned off, closed – first the bars and restaurants, then the beach itself, and finally the boardwalk. We were allowed to walk on the sidewalks, but that was it. There was nowhere to go anyhow. We could take our lives in our hands and go to the supermarket to get necessities (if we could find them on the bare shelves), but we didn’t want to do that and we made as infrequent visits there as possible.
News of sickness, disease, and death were filtering into every media channel. It seemed that even if we didn’t watch the news, we still couldn’t escape it – it was in the air. The stock market was tumbling down off a cliff, unemployment was spiking, and anxiety was everywhere. We couldn’t hug our neighbors for comfort, for they may be the vicious vector conveying the virus within their sincere attempt at reassurance.
Lola and I were utterly alone on the 25th floor of a resort hotel overlooking the vacant beaches and streets with nothing but the brilliant yellow, blue, and wisps of white for company. On the horizon we could make out three giant cruise ships forbidden from docking for fear of their deadly cargo. We were informed that the virus was rampant and people dropping with asphyxiation on the decks, desperately looking to the shore for some sort of assistance, in vain.
Death surrounded us. So why not have a gin-and-tonic after breakfast? I had plunged into nihilism.
Yes, I still had Lola as my companion, but there was little for me to write about regarding “my sexlife with Lola.” Her trysts, flirtations, and dogging down by the pool area were prohibited by the pandemic. Yes, she still masturbated three, four, five times a day, but I’ve written about that in such detail and with such frequency that there is hardly anything new I could bring to the topic. Our lives beat on with the same monotony as the repetitive waves upon the shore.
Until one day our desperation to escape the gloom of death and destruction was relieved. We found solace in the strangest of places. While preparing for her Friday morning fap session, Lo was doing her usual foreplay routine which includes checking her elicit email account. In it, she discovered a missive from her sister Robie, whom she hadn’t seen for a dozen years or more. Even with me, she had only mentioned her in passing as her “estranged sibling.” All I knew about her was that she was older and residing abroad. How on earth did she find Lo’s secret email account?
After getting the email, Lo called me into the bedroom and explained some of the backstory.
“She’s older and when we were kids we slept in the same bed. It became. . . interesting. . . when she grew boobs. Long story short, we got caught, she got kicked out of the house and sent to boarding school and then to Europe. We were separated for a long time.”
“Why did she suddenly write to you now?” I asked.
“I’m getting there,” said Lo, still naked under the sheets, slowly stroking between her legs as she spoke, “During COVID lockdown she needed something to help her get off. She was scouring the internet to find the really dirty stuff. She came across (and to) our blog and, because I don’t show my face, was fapping to it regularly, not knowing it was me – her sister – that was making her horny, until one day she noticed something that gave me away. She reached out and sent this photo of her with the ebook of Match, Cinder & Spark.”
Robie with our ebook
She showed me the photo. I was in a state of shock; first by the events that led to this interaction and then by the family resemblance I saw between Lo and Robie.
“She’s beautiful,” I uttered unconsciously.
Lo took offense. Always jealous.
“I mean, she looks so much like you. It’s a compliment.”
Apparently Lo, being the younger sister, always took a backseat to Robie. My comment brought back all those jealousy issues.
Since that first email exchange as adults, the two have reconnected on a number of levels, not least of which is that they frequently get off to each other long-distance.
I suppose the ever-present, yet occasionally more pressing, specter of death can reunite as well as rend.
Robie showing that she has been using Lo to get off
Protected: Res Ipsa Loquitur, or The Pencil Test
I Need a Dirty Woman, I Need a Dirty Girl
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.
Happy Families
The next morning, over coffee, while I was cooking up some eggs, Lo asked me completely out of nowhere, “You know what Meri told me when I asked her why the hell she is still with Scott, who has no penis to speak of?”
“No, Darling,” I said, “what?”
“Meri told me that she’s with him because, ‘He calls me: Daddy’s fat little babygirl.’ Can you believe that?”
“What’s not to believe?”
“What’s not to believe?!”
I flipped the eggs, looked at her, and raised my eyebrows in curiosity.
“I mean, well, she’s not fat.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“He’s fat if anyone’s fat.”
“Again, maybe he just likes to think of her that way.”
“She may have put on a few pounds after pumping out three boys, but she’s not fat. She’s a sexy MILF. Sexy… MILF… Meri,” she said, gazing off, looking over the brim of her coffee mug.
“You still here or have you gone back down your rabbit hole?”
“And you know what else?”
“No, Darling, what?”
“When I told her about how none of the boys shut the bedroom door while they each had at me –”
“Toast?”
She nodded her head ‘yes,’ as if yesterday’s full day of fucking had famished her.
“She told me that Scott never shuts the bedroom door.”
I carefully put the two eggs and toast in front of her. I did the same for myself before getting up to grab two glasses and the O.J.
She licked her lips and dug right in, tasting it briefly before continuing.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting across from her, taking a bite of my breakfast. “He never shuts the bedroom door.”
“Never, since the kids were small. They just fuck there. Doesn’t matter who sees, who’s there, who knows. She says that he believes it shows their love for each other, so why hide it.”
“I take it you disagree.”
“Yes, I disagree.”
“So fucking doesn’t demonstrate love?”
“You know what I mean. Certain things are not meant for children to see. Aren’t you shocked at all?”
She was nearly done with her food already.
“Lo, honestly, nothing about Meri really shocks me.”
“What does that mean?”
I finished up my toast, took the last sip of my juice, and got up to collect the plates and glasses.
“You can’t just say something like that and leave it there,” she insisted. “What do you mean by that?”
“Different families have different internal cultures and norms,” I said, philosophically.
“This is not a study in cross-cultural family units,” she objected. “This is your typical suburban middle-class all-American family.”
“Typical families are all alike – each has its own hidden little secret,” I said, poorly paraphrasing Tolstoy.
“Don’t you mean, ‘Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way’?” she asked. I love Lo because she’s one of the only humans on the planet with whom I can allude to literary lines and not only be understood, but be corrected.
“Show me a happy family and I will show you a family with a secret.”
“But that’s just it,” she retorted emotionally, “it’s like this family doesn’t have any secrets. They leave it all out there.”
“Is that so?” I asked snidely. “Then why have you and Meri been afraid that the cops or social services might rap on the door at any moment since you got back from your camping trip? If Meri leaves it all out there, then why is she living in fear?”
“That’s different. I mean, within the family, they all just live and let live.”
“More like fuck and let fuck.”
“Either way.”
“So?”
“I just find it interesting. Well, strange.”
“You said you don’t think it should be like that.”
“Maybe I don’t.”
“And clearly Meri doesn’t either.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“Because she asked to use the brothers (or let the brothers use her) so that she could get her kicks outside of the family.”
“Or maybe she just needed bigger kicks,” remarked Lo, alluding to the genetic trait that Meri’s husband shared with his three sons – the trait that left Lo so unfulfilled.
Lo looked into her empty coffee mug and back up at me sadly.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“What’s warm, wet, and makes you horny?”
Warm, Wet, and Stimulating
“Is this a riddle?”
She showed me her empty cup.
“Oh,” I said, comprehending. “You need me to fill you up.”
I poured more coffee in and she looked up at me seductively and said, “Just add cream.”
“Well,” I said to her, “I need something warm, wet, and stimulating to get up.”
“Here I am, Daddy,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.
“I was speaking about coffee, but really?” I asked because I thought she had been too well-worn to fuck.
“Well, I’m functional enough to give you a handjob.”
We finished our coffee and then walked to the bedroom where she reached down between my legs to assess the situation. She felt me and then reached down between her legs. I heard her smack her pussy a few times and then rub it. A little factoid about Lola – she never uses lube and certainly never spits in order to lubricate me or herself. She is almost always so naturally irrigated that she can always use her own secretions to get things slipping and sliding. She began stroking me. Despite the fact that she had showered and changed the bedding, I could still detect a whiff of the cum from eight people on her and in the room.
As she was distractedly stimulating me, she got a text. I heard her chuckle.
“What?” I asked.
She showed me a photo of her, naked, looking disheveled on the bed.
I want my family to see how I fucked you, slut
“After Meri had licked me clean, and was getting dressed, she said to me, ‘Did you like how I fucked you, Lola? Let me get a photo of you for my husband and my sons. They’ll want to see just how wrecked I left you, slut.’ She can be cruel sometimes.”
I looked at the photo and pictured all that happening as Lo coaxed me, “Cum. Please cum. That’s it, in my hand. Feel better, Daddy?”
Sweet Service
I had deposited a warm load in her palm. She licked it like a kitten cleaning her paws. I began to nod off as the waves of well-being washed over my weak body.
“Oh no,” said Lo, “No sleep for you! You promised you’d clean up all your books today!”
“I need a mancave to hibernate in,” I said groggily. “I’m just going rest for a little bit.”
“And I need a womancave!”
“Luckily, you have one.”
“And you’re not welcome in it until you clean up the books.”
I fell asleep.
When I woke up, Lo was going at both her womancaves with the plungers – blue in bum, pink in pussy.
Blue for Bum, Pink for Pussy
She was looking at her phone.
“DP? Really?” I asked.
“Oh, Daddy. You know I love double-penetration. And if you’re not going to give it to me, well, I have to get it somehow.”
“What brought this on? I thought you were too sore even for me.”
“It’s call desire.”
I was confused.
Once she noticed that I was watching her, she came and came hard, yelling out to me (and all the neighbors within earshot) that she was cumming in her ass and her cunt.
“I call it, ‘Desire'”
When she was done, I asked, “Desire?”
“Yeah,” she said matter-of-factly, “Scott and Meri each texted me separately that they want me.”
“And that’s what made you horny enough to ride dueling dildos?”
“Being desired is my aphrodisiac.”
May is Masturbation Month – Mrs. Tastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes
She’s married. She’s a mom. She’s bi. She’s sexy. She’s a MILF and a hotwife. And she has an OnlyFans page that allows her to share all her kinky allure with the world.
Her name is Tastykakes and she recently reached out to us to be part of the “May is Masturbation Month” promotion.
She got her copy of Match, Cinder & Spark – Volume V: Shorter Shorts.
Mrs. Tastykakes
As she tells the story:
My hubby and I were at home the night it arrived. I had torn into the packaging eagerly and pulled out the book. I began reading on the bed and he was behind me, fucking me, trying to read over my shoulder, but really he could only see the sexy photos. I was reading the story, ‘Spring Showers,’ about how Lo went for a walk in April and suddenly had to stop in her tracks due to ‘accidental squirting.’ It gave me an idea. It was April. It was warm out. I was feeling slutty and sexy like Lo. ‘Let’s go for a walk,’ I suggested to him, mid-coitus.
‘Can I cum first?’ he asked, or rather, pleaded.
‘Only if you cum in me,’ I said.
He thrust two or three more times before cumming deep in my cunt.
I threw on a sheer, oversized top and nothing else. We walked out into the sultry evening air and I could feel his cum oozing down my inner thigh.
Instead of sexy photos with the book taken inside, we found a few places for a little exhibitionist show. The entire time, my leg was wet and sticky as his load kept coming, mixed with my juices as I was so excited to be taking a dangerous photo shoot in the courtyard of our building. I wonder if our neighbors saw. I sure hope so.
Mrs. Tastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes
See more of Mrs. Tastykakes here:
https://www.flowcode.com/page/mrstastykakes
Mrs. Tastykakes and Lover
Swing
[The following story, which took place a few years ago, was published in the March edition of ENM Magazine – Ethical Non-Monogamy. Unfortunately, despite heroic efforts by its publisher, this month is the last month of its short existence.]
Lo’s Green Dress from ENM spread
Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago, where the river runs green and the jazz of a bygone era still swings. Lo and I had gone there for Lily and Jim’s wedding. It was an extravagant affair. All the quaint rituals and odd practices of the public betrothal symbolizing holy monotony. I mean monogamy. I mean matrimony. Sorry, I struggle to find the right words sometimes. All the focus on the bride as an unblemished princess performing for her solid, stoic king. There’s just something about it that provokes the puckish prankster in me. Especially when I know that the beautiful bride in her pure white gown has a devilish desire for exceptionally large cock and that her groom comes up short.
But Jim is a good friend of mine and a sometime paramour of Lo’s, so we took added delight in the carnal knowledge that behind all the nuptial vows, the oaths of fidelity, and the pomp of the ring ceremony, both Lily and Jim hadn’t any plans of restricting their bodies and pleasures only to the one legally bound to them.
So, as all the other guests let out gentle expressions of awe and shed a tear in reflection of this display of love and affection, I grinned a wicked little grin as I sipped my expensive scotch.
Lo saw my mischievous look and rubbed her leg up against mine under the table, indicating that she had some ideas of her own.
We both knew Lily and Jim to be swingers and so, when the formalities were over and the dancefloor opened up for revelry, Lo missed no opportunity to scandalize the evening.
We sat at the table next to the newlywed couple. Rather than the usual choice of two entrées, there was a choice of four and so people were passing bites from their plates around for each other to taste.
“You are so generous!” said one guest to me after I let her have a bite of my food.
“Whenever I experience something amazing, I just want others to share in it,” I replied, rubbing Lo’s arm.
“I’m the opposite,” said the young woman to me. “Whenever I find something amazing, I keep it all to myself.” She also rubbed the arm of her partner.
“You can have him,” I thought.
Meanwhile, Lo was seated next to Lily’s Uncle Collin. He arrived to this event without his wife Suzanne and no one blinked an eye about it. The family was used to their “independent” social schedules. This wedding happened after the shenanigans that had taken place at Collin’s mountain cottage, so Lo was very familiar with ‘Uncle Collin’ and his love of young women and his E.D. issues. The whole night, any stranger would have thought that Lo was Collin’s date for the evening. Given the age difference, they might have thought Lo was his hired companion as his FGE – “Full Girlfriend Experience.”
They danced together – marvelously, I might add – and reminisced, quite loudly at the table, about the days at his cottage. He repeatedly alluded to Lo suntanning nude along side Lily, going to a farm and milking goats, and they laughed about how Lo lost her bikini bottoms while tubing behind his boat on the lake.
As they told these stories, Collin gradually drew the other guests at our table into their intimate stroll down Memory Lane. He is charismatic and a good storyteller, but the whole time I was silently fuming, ready to burst out with, “Yeah, you could read all about it on our blog! With photos!!! I wrote it better than he tells it!!!” But I remained silent and let the senior statesmen have the spotlight that he so craved.
He subtly hinted at, without giving too much detail, the nudity, sex, and other debauchery that took place at the cottage. He was in on the secret we shared with Jim and Lily – that they got married prior to this large ceremony to appease their Catholic families and that, though they lived “in sin” prior to the private wedding, Lily was and continues to be an A.O.L. girl (Anal Only Lifestyle).
After Collin regaled them with his tales of titties and sun, one of the young women at our table, noticing Collin’s wedding ring and Lo’s “hotwife” ring, asked, “So you two are. . . married?” She asked it hesitantly, knowing it was an inappropriate question that was only sparked by the gaping age difference between them. Yet the curious guest was inebriated enough to broach the subject and display her incredulity.
“Oh no,” said Lo, laughing and delighting in the twist of the knife that was about to take place, “I’m not married!”
“Oh, so you’re. . . ?” the woman’s half-formulated question hung in the air awkwardly.
“We’re just friends,” said Lo. “This is my partner, HH,” she added, as she put her delicate hand on mine.
The fact that they weren’t married, but had shared so much together, compounded with the fact that Lo was dating another, yet different, older man who was seated right next to her as she laughed about these sexperiences, seemed to blow the mind of our dinner companion.
“Oh,” she said, feigning comprehension, but displaying complete befuddlement.
The band began to play again and Lo begged me to dance with her.
I demurred, saying, “Dancing is emblematic of our relationship. When we dance, you do whatever you want. For me, though, the goal is to have fun. But all you do is criticize and then, when I stop, you criticize because you always have to have an object of your derision. Without it, you feel a tremendous void. And whatever I do – driving, cooking, dancing, cleaning – I’m your eternal object of derision.”
Lo replied, “Well, when dancing, it’s more fun for both partners if one is not stepping on the other’s toes.”
“That’s only possible if you’re dancing solo.”
“You’re right, dancing is emblematic of our whole relationship.”
As harsh as this banter sounds, it was all said lovingly, tongue-in-cheek.
One of our friends at the table overhead us and said, “You two should write a book chronicling your lovers’ quarrels.”
“That’s a great idea!” I replied “That way I could document my long suffering. I could call it, ‘The History of my Calamities,’ after Abelard.”
“Your calamities,” chided Lo, “you should be so lucky to have an Eloise like me!”
Having fully lost our audience with our theological allusions, Collin remarked, “You two have great erotic tension.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but no erotic release.”
“There’s a difference,” said Lo, “between erotic tension and sexual tension.”
“And what is that?” I asked.
“Erotic tension is in your head. And you have a great release for that – the blog. Sexual tension is between your legs and you have a great release for that.”
“What might that be?”
“My puss.”
“How’s your sexual tension?”
“I never have sexual tension,” said Lo casually, “I only have sexual release.”
“I suppose that’s what it means to be ‘a liberated woman.’”
She got up to dance with Collin some more.
Louis Armstrong’s “Just a Gigolo” was being sung by the crooner and Lo, wearing her green velvet dress in honor of the Irish holiday, looked stunning as she twirled and dipped with Collin.
As they kicked up a storm on the dancefloor, one of the women at our table sat next to me. “Aren’t you jealous,” she whispered in my ear. I couldn’t help but think of her as Iago. Though green was the color of the day, it was not the color I was seeing as I watched my Desdemona dance with her Cassio.
“No,” I replied with a smile.
“Not at all?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“Want to get some air?” she asked.
“Sure.”
I followed my femme Iago out onto the balcony of the hotel and, though it was freezing in the windy city, she offered me a few puffs from her vape pen. Not wishing to be rude, I accepted.
Suddenly my Shakespearean companion transformed into a jovial leprechaun and the next thing I knew was Lo, Collin, the sexy pixie elf and I were at The Green Mill, a dancehall throwback to the age of Swing. A big band was playing with a tall, lean black trumpeter in the lead. They were pounding out “Tain’t What You Do” as Lo was passed from partner to partner in the crowd that was jumpin’ and jivin’ to the beat.
In my mind, the spotlight was on Lo and her eyes were on the prize – the trumpeter who seemed to be singing the words especially for her, with a peculiar emphasis on them, changing the meaning from, “Tain’t what you do, it’s how you do it” to “Taint, what you do. It’s how you do it.”
“How you feeling now?” asked the leprechaun.
I felt as if a green wave was carrying my Lo further and further out to sea as I was stranded on the shore watching her recede into the distance.
There, far on the horizon, I saw her up by the stage, talking with the trumpeter who was standing, his crotch eye level with Lo’s face. She was looking up at him, saying something.
The band took a break and Lo disappeared, as did the band leader.
Collin returned to the table and I inquired about her whereabouts.
“It’s Saint Patty’s Day!” he said, “The luck of the Irish. I believe that Lo is getting lucky!” He slapped me on the back and bought me another drink that I didn’t need. “When in the Emerald City, anything can happen with a little magic from the Wizard,” he said, removing a teal handkerchief from his jacket pocket that suddenly turned into Lo’s satin panties. He handed them to me and said, “Improbable, yes. Possible, perhaps. With Lo, all is green go-go and Eternal Return of the Dame.”
When I heard these words, I knew that I was slowly losing my grasp on reality.
The last thing I recall from the evening was a Julie London song, “Hey Daddy,” being played by the band as an instrumental number.
When I woke up, I was in my hotel room in the bed and Lo was rising and descending on a large bottle of champagne.
Celebration Time
Groggily I rubbed my eyes and looked at her to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I then said, “Be careful darling, I wouldn’t want that bottle to break.”
“Not to worry. I’m wide, wet, and willing.”
As she proceeded to hump to her heart’s content, she said, “Will you order some breakfast from room service?”
Always the dutiful daddy, I said, “Sure, what do you want.”
“A bowl of Lucky Charms.”
Lo’s Taint