Just saw that mysexlifewithlola.com was included among the top 13 erotica sites for women! The best part about it is that the list includes so many of our favorite bloggers! Very glad to be among them!!! Thank you!
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Lola and I were discussing my latest publication and the woeful lack of financial reward gained from it.
“Do you think that the problem may be with the world, not with me?” I asked, tired of being responsible for the failure of monetizing our sexy, silly, sensuous, serious, sappy, serial story.
“Yes, of course,” she said, “the problem is the world, not you. The blog is the best writing you do.”
“Thank you dear,” I said, “you are an inspiration.”
“The world just isn’t ready for you,” she said. The way she said it, I couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic. I shrugged and allowed myself to take it as a compliment.
“You know, you’re right. I’ve put a lot of thought to this and I honestly can’t think of one author who is comparable in terms of range.”
“Oh boy,” she said, “here we go.” Her tone was that of exasperation, as if she had heard this all before. But I had never mentioned this to her.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about range?”
“Yes dear, please, tell me about your range.”
“Well, I’ve written plays, screenplays, works of philosophy, art theory, novels, poetry, and, erotica – don’t forget the erotica.”
“I am aware.”
“Perhaps,” I said, gazing off to the middle distance, rubbing my beard, “there is one, one author who has an equal range.”
“And who would that be?” she asked as if reading from a script.
“Marquis de Sade. Yes, yes,” I said more enthusiastically the more I thought on it, “he had range – plays, philosophy, theology, erotica.”
“And look at how the world treated him.”
“Precisely, my dear, precisely! They put the genius in prison! I suppose I should count my blessings that I have not been arrested, charged, indicted, found guilty and imprisoned.”
“By that reckoning, you’re ahead of the game.”
“No matter how things go, I am fully confident that someday my true talent will be recognized, like with Sade. It may just have to be posthumously.”
“Great,” she said totally devoid of enthusiasm.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be remembered as more than my mistress. You’ll be known as my divine muse.”
“Just what I’ve always aspired to in life.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“And you sound like a pompous ass! You know, I’m more than just your muse. I have great achievements in my own right.”
“Of course you do,” I said, “but we’re talking about an immortal legacy. For that, you’ll be remembered as I see you; as high priestess in the holy church of Venus.”
“As a porn star, you mean.”
“A priestess of porn.”
“A slut.”
“An entelechy of the divine feminine.”
“A pinup calendar model.”
“Why must you speak in such pedestrian terms?”
“Your speech flies to the heavens. I’m here to keep you grounded. Earthly delights, remember?”
Carrying a mug of coffee, I walk in on her just as she is squirting, pulling the Hitachi away from her clit. Her hands scrunch up the sheets under her and her legs are spread. Her head lifts and her breasts heave as she breathes quick breaths, screaming, “Oh Fuck! Oh FUCK! OH Fuuuuck!!!” She looks over at me and says, “Don’t just stand there, get me a towel!” I do so.
“I just came to tell you breakfast is ready.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Daddio!”
“When you’re ready, I’ll see you at the breakfast table.”
“But you didn’t kiss me good morning.”
“Yes I did.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I did – all night long.”
“Yeah. I had to punch you to get you to stop and let me sleep.”
“Well, those were your good morning kisses.”
“I want one now.”
I lean over to kiss her good morning. She lets me kiss her on the lips before pushing my head down between her legs. “I meant there,” she says.
“Lo, I’m not going to eat you out before I eat breakfast. It’s on the table getting cold!”
“Just one kiss, Daddio. Please.”
I indulge her. One kiss turns to a full-on tongue-fuck-fest of every area between her legs from the small of her back to her bellybutton. Luckily she cums quickly. I pull back and go into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Her juices have a way of soaking my beard and mustache. I look up, into the vanity mirror over the sink and see her preparing to pound herself with a dildo.
“OK, that does it!” I call to her. “I’m just going to throw out the breakfast I made.”
“No, Daddio, I’ll be there in. . .” Her words trail off as she becomes preoccupied with the instrumental manipulation of her puss.
I walk out of the bedroom, my hard-on leading the way. I sit down at the breakfast table alone and eat the luke-warm eggs and toast while I hear her sing-song voice of oohs and ahs crescendo from the bedroom.
When we’re both done, I stand up, put my plate and glass in the sink and I bring her her breakfast on a tray.
“Oh, breakfast in bed!” she squeals, leaning over to put her toys away safely stashed under the bed.
“If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain will come to Mohammed.”
“Daddy, I’ll cum to anything.”
“Don’t I know it! What did you cum to today?”
“I’m sorry Daddy,” she says, looking guilty.
“Why? Because you let your eggs and toast get cold?”
She shakes her head, no.
“What is it then? That you used my mouth, but kept all the orgasms to yourself?”
Again she shakes her head in the negative. Keeping orgasms to herself gives her no guilt.
“Then what?”
She passes her phone to me. I look at it. It’s a photo of a giant black cock.
“A friend of yours?”
“Not yet, but I hope someday.”
“Who is it?”
“Just a fan.”
“A fan of your pics, not my writing I assume.”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him about it.”
“What’s he have to say for himself?”
“I don’t know. He just sent me this pic and. . .”
“And it’s got you all preoccupied.”
She shook her head yes with a guilty look on her face. “I want it, Daddy!” she said like a girl asking for a big lollipop at the circus.
I turn to leave the bedroom.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“To do the dishes.”
“I’ll do it!”
“No, I’ll do it. I don’t like the way you do it. Besides, you have to eat your cold breakfast.”
“Why do you wish to maintain control all the time?”
“It’s not a matter of retaining control. It’s a matter of maintaining standards.”
“You have so many standards. Double standards.”
“I only have one standard. . . the best.”
“That’s my line,” she says, followed by, “but, if you’re speaking about me, then go on.”
I finally walk out the bedroom into the kitchen. As I’m in the midst of putting dishes into the dishwasher, Lo saunters up to the entrance of the kitchen naked as the day she was born, she turns to me and says, “Are you jealous?” She’s always trying to get me jealous, to no avail.
“Lo, you’re standing right where the neighbors can see you through the window, you know.”
“Does that make you jealous?”
“No. But it may make the neighbor’s wife jealous!”
“Phhh,” she sounds dismissively, bending over to give the neighbor a more explicit view. As she’s bent over, she says, “I’m just a hotwife with an exhibitionist’s streak and a loving man who can use his fingers to type out stories that make people come back for more.”
“I don’t think your big friend was coming back for my writing.”
“Well, I can’t help it if behind every good nympho is a line of men waiting to fuck her and behind every bad nympho is a longer line.”
“Which one are you?”
“Fuck me, Daddy, and you’ll see.”
“No, Lo, I already know. I was just testing to see if you would admit to it.”
“The line behind me is very long, very hard,” she says as she reaches over and grabs my cock.
“That doesn’t make sense. How is the line hard?”
“Fuck me and I’ll show you.”
She bends over, this time with her rear towards me rather than toward the window.
“Are you still doing the same old thing?” I ask.
“You mean you?” she asks, looking at me from between her legs.
“Very funny. This ‘old thing’ is going to work.”
“Work on me!”
“Didn’t I make you cum this morning? – and you squirted all over me and the bed!”
“That was a drop in the bucket.”
She wiggles her ass, like she’s playing charades. So I guess, “You’re horny.”
She sees the bulge in my khakis. “And you want me.”
“Yes, Lo. I always want you. But sometimes I have to actually go to work.” I walk over to her and give her wiggling bum a good smack.
“Mmmmm,” she moans, “again!”
I repeat.
“I love spankings,” she says, “they’re like applause, but on my ass! Let me hear how much you like my ass.”
I ‘applaud’ her five or six times. But I do no more than applaud. I then walk out of the kitchen.
“But Daddy,” I hear her call down the hallway, “what about my encore!”
I leave the house and go to work, but on my way home that afternoon, I stop and run a special errand for Lo. For a while now I’ve wanted to try a cock sleeve. I run into my local adult toy shop and peruse the possibilities. After a careful review, I decide on one that is a total of 11 inches, dark brown in complexion, very realistic, and best of all, has a ring to wrap around my balls to anchor the sleeve in place.
Back at home I find that Lo has invited a few people over for a little get-together. Unaware that we were expecting company, I have to find a way of sneaking the rather large box in the house inconspicuously. I decide to pop my head in, say hello to the guests, and declare that we need some more beer. I run out to the local store and pick up a six-pack. I throw the toy in the plain brown bag and rush in, crossing my fingers that no one stops me on the way.
They are all in the living room and I call out, “I’m back! I’ll just pop these in the fridge and be right there.” I head to the bedroom first, hide my stash under the bed, and then put the beer in the fridge, removing one for myself first.
Walking in on our little circle of friends, I take a look at Lo and see that she has put on a stunning little number. Her heels, her short-shorts, and her black tank-top with her one-size-too-small push-up bra under it, giving her quite the shelf popping out of the top. What’s the reason for this, I wonder.
I give her a kiss hello and tell her I’m famished, looking at her quizzically.
Lola complains that the meal she prepared didn’t come out the way that she was hoping.
I say, “You know, I don’t think love is blind so much as love is deaf.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
“You could go on complaining like that all night, but because you look so good, I don’t hear a thing.”
I get a little laugh from everyone there and then the ‘guests of honor’ arrive. Two young men from across the street who had moved in recently were invited by Lo. Brothers. Built. Did I mention young?
“HH, you remember Roy and Gary,” she says, that look of desire in her eye, her tongue running over her lips as she introduces us. “I just thought,” she says innocently, “since we were having people over, I’d invite them as well.”
“Very neighborly of you,” I say.
The rest of the night goes on with Lo dancing that fine line between being a charming hostess and a wicked vixen.
Finally, past eleven, all our guests leave, including the brothers from across the street.
Lo goes into the bedroom and when I emerge out of the bathroom, cock sleeve firmly in place, Lo nearly jumps in fear and fawning over the giant extension between my legs.
“What the hell is that?!” she cries out.
“Just something special I bought for you today.”
“What? Why? Today?”
“Yes. Because you were so enamored of your fan who sent you that pic that was longer than your forearm.”
“But Daddio, you know I love you,” she says, reaching out to grab the long appendage and feel its heft and girth.
“Yes, but you long for bigger, longer, thicker, and bigger.”
“You mentioned bigger twice.”
“I like how indignant you are.”
“Indignity is my forte.”
“No, lack of dignity is your forte.”
“Daddy, I have loads of dignity. I just prefer to be degraded in the bedroom.”
“Well, do what you do best and get on the bed, spread your legs, make yourself good and wet, and let me pound you with this monster cock.”
“I thought you’d never ask. Oh, and by the way, I’m already super wet. I have been all night.”
“The brothers?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
I do as she wishes and I have to admit that it was a little difficult to fit the bulbous bad-boy in, but once in, Lo takes all of it with grace and gratitude.
“Can I use my Hitachi?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say, since with this sleeve it’s easy for me to lean back and give her enough room to fit her Hitachi over her clit. With the sleeve on, there is significantly less sensation and I welcome the vibrations of the Magic Wand.
Within mere moments Lo is saying, “Pull out! PULL OUT! I have to squirt!”
I do as she says and an impatient stream of spray shoots out on me.
“Holy shit!” she says, as if she had never cum like that before. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe every time it feels like the first. But just as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she rolls over and says, “Take that silly thing off now and fuck me rawdog!”
I obey and begin from behind her and say, “Lo, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t even feel you. That sleeve spread you so wide.”
“Don’t you take this the wrong way,” she says over her shoulder, “but I can hardly feel you. Now fuck me like you mean it.”
I do as she commands and as I pound her from behind, all the wetness covering her ass splish-splashes with each thrust and it makes a slick slapping sound.
I continue harder and faster, hoping to register something within her, and after much striving I finally succeed. I hit my target and she cums even harder than she did the first time.
But then something I’ve never seen before happens. She literally passes out mid-orgasm. She faints from fucking. She swoons from sex. She is out cold for about three or four minutes. When she comes to, she just asks to hold me.
“What happened Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “One minute you were cumming, the next you were out cold. How much did you have to drink tonight?”
“One glass of champagne.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. I swear.”
“Have you ever fainted from fucking before?”
“No Daddy. Never.”
“How do you feel?”
“Great.”
“Did you cum in me Daddy?”
“No, Lo. I didn’t cum at all.”
“Are you sure?” she asks feeling between her legs.
“Yes Lo. That’s all from you.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were wonderful.”
“But I passed out – literally on you.”
“It’s ok. I took it as a compliment.”
“You would. You have such a big ego.”
“If you’re talking about this,” I say, holding the sheath, “then you’re right. It is big. I had a big ego before, and now it’s even bigger.”
“Daddy, a man’s ego is not his cock size.”
“No. I agree. But the bigger his cock size, the bigger his ego.”
“Well, you’d better watch out. You know what they say?”
“No, what’s that?”
“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
“Oh? Is that how it goes? I thought it was, the harder they cum the harder they pass out.”
It was Thursday. The Thursday before Super Bowl Sunday to be exact. It was just your average Thursday until, unable to shake a persistent cold, I went to the doctor. After a check-up, X-rays and bloodwork, I was diagnosed with pneumonia and ordered to get bedrest. Lo, of course, was as caring and fussing as the most attentive nurse and she took pity on my pain and suffering.
“Daddio?” she said Thursday night.
“What?” I replied in a raspy whisper.
“You know, it’s been so long since. . .”
“Lo, don’t tell me you want to fuck.”
“OK, I won’t tell you,” she said, reaching her hand to my groin, “but I’ll show you.”
She pulled out her double-ended dildo and, before she could go to town with it, I interrupted. “Lo, I just need to get some sleep. If you want to fuck your brains out with that thing, can you do it in the living room?”
“Daddio, it’s been days!”
“According to my calculations,” I replied, “I think it’s been since Tuesday.”
“Yes! You see – two days!”
“Living room.”
She moped away, dildo in hand, her intentions of seducing me shattered.
I didn’t hear much more from her that night because I quickly fell off to sleep, the Nyquil silencing any extraneous noise she may have made during her solo session.
The next day when she came home from work I was recuperating on the couch, watching mind-numbing TV. I turned to Lo and asked, “Why is everything on TV so stupid?”
“Because smart doesn’t sell,” she said without missing a beat.
“Where are you going?” I asked her as I saw her put down her work bag and pick up her clutch.
“Out,” she said simply. She pulled a piece of paper out of her clutch and looked it over.
“What is that?” I asked.
“It’s my ‘to do’ list.”
“Oh yeah? Whose names are on it?”
“Funny. Do you need anything?”
“Some more orange juice and throat lozenges.”
“What you need is sex,” she said, bending over to put on her pumps.
“I still have a 102 temperature.”
“I’m just saying, sex, it does a body good,” she smirked, looking at me upside-down between her legs.
“It sure does your body good, but mine is beyond repair.”
“Oh, Daddio,” she said as she blew an air-kiss my way, “I’ll get you your OJ and lozenges. Kiss kiss.”
Later, as I lay on the couch wallowing in my misery, Lola sent me a pic on my phone. It was of her topless in panties. “Like?” she asked in the text.
“Where are you and what are you doing?”
“Shopping. I thought you could use a little lingerie photo shoot.”
She was in the changing room of Victoria’s Secret or something, taking seflies for me. I can’t deny that, even in my state of dysphoria, I found her antics alluring.
I texted her which panties I liked. There were not many that I didn’t like.
“Maybe I can sell them on-line?” she texted back.
“People can buy them themselves from the store, you know.”
“I meant my used panties,” she responded.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah. Go for it.”
“I’m coming,” she texted.
“Lo, this is no time for you to be masturbating in public!”
“I mean, I’m coming home now.”
“Oh.” Phew.
Soon she was walking in the door and she asked me how I was feeling.
“The same. Still watching mind-numbing cable TV.” A cooking show was on instructing how to make a baked pastry filled with fruit.
“I love those,” said Lo, sitting next to me. “Do you?”
“I hate tarts. . . . Present company excluded, of course.”
“Mmmm, this is making me hungry,” said Lo. “Did you eat anything today?”
“Yes. I made myself lunch.”
“What did you have?”
“I had a grilled cheese and a chocolate milk.”
“You realize,” said Lo, “that that is the lunch of an average fifth-grader.”
“Are you implying that I’m average?”
“Ugh. Are you hungry?”
“No dear.”
“You should eat.”
“No thank you.”
Lola went into the kitchen and, before long I heard her cussing at something. I got up and saw her having a devil of a time trying to flip her omelet. “Stand back,” I said, “it needs a man’s touch.”
“Well, I know something does,” she said to me. After I flipped it she asked, “Do you want me to blow you?” and she dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor.
“No, I don’t want you to blow me. I’m sick.”
“And I’m horny. Each of us can cure the other,” she said looking up at me, fumbling in my pajama bottoms for my cock.
“Lola, your omelet is ready.”
She sat down and I served her. As she ate she asked me, “How do you reconcile my silly and sexy sides?”
Sitting across from her, nursing a drink of water, I said, “You’re a complete cable package with porno channels and Comedy Central.”
“I like that,” she said. “I can’t wait to show you my new panties.”
“You already did – virtually.”
When we went to bed, I was still feeling miserable. I rejected Lola once more and she made a little tent of the sheets and opened up her phone and went to town on herself to who-knows-what naughtiness of pornographic material. We had gone to bed early, around nine, and when I woke up around eleven, she was still at it. Ignoring her, I used the bathroom and returned. She didn’t even notice my brief absence, or at least she didn’t indicate any notice.
The next morning, Saturday, she sauntered naked into the living room where I was sitting, sipping my tea and honey. “Morning dear,” she said.
“Oh, what a long fucking night,” I responded, having slept very poorly.
“Back in the day we’d have a long night fucking,” she quipped, followed by, “Those days can happen again, Sugar.”
“Not today they won’t!” I insisted, exhausted by her libido without having enjoyed any of its fringe benefits in days.
“Awww,” she said, cuddling up to me, “still not feeling well?”
“A little better,” I said. “At least I’m hungry. That’s a good sign.”
“I’ll make you breakfast,” she offered enthusiastically. “How about pancakes?”
“OK.”
She went to the kitchen and I followed her when I could smell the delicious aroma.
“Uh oh,” she said.
“What?”
“Too high, too long.”
“What?”
“My pancake. The heat was on too high and I left it on too long. It burned.”
“Oh no it didn’t. That’s just how I like it!”
I ate and was feeling better. We needed to do food shopping and I offered to go with Lola to the store. She drove and when we got there, she said, “You stay here. I’ll go in.”
“No, I can go,” I protested.
“You rest. I’ll go in.”
“Why can’t we both go in?”
“I’ll give you three good reasons: I’ll make it quicker, cheaper, and easier. Now that I think about it – that’s exactly what people said about me in college.”
“You are incorrigible.”
When we got back home, having missed work on Friday, I tried to do a little work from home that afternoon since I was feeling slightly better (at least I had no fever). Lo came in the room, naked again but for her new thong, trying to seduce me. I tried telling her that I had a lot of work to do. “I’m really quite behind.”
As if on que, she bent over and showed me her ass, the thong hardly visible.
“That’s quite a behind too,” I said.
“And it’s all yours, Daddio.”
“Let’s not exaggerate. All?”
“Well, you can have it all right now, if you want. And then later someone else can have it all.”
“At least you’re more accurate now.”
“Well?”
“Not now darling.”
“Fine!” she said, pouting. “I’m going out tonight.”
“Fine.”
Later she appeared, all dolled up, wearing her favorite earrings designed like little anchors and a sweater with a nautical theme designed into it.
“Well, don’t you look cute,” I said, trying to be nice.
“I look like a little sailor!”
“Trying to find semen.”
She threw a pillow at me. “You’re crude and rude!”
“It’s true.”
“Even if it is true, you have a vulgar mouth.”
“As Jesus said, it’s not what comes out of the mouth that makes it vulgar, it’s what you put in.”
“Well, darling, when I come back home tonight and tell you what I’ve put in it, I guarantee that Jesus never imagined such a string of words coming out of anyone’s mouth, especially not from such a little angelic beauty as I.”
“I can’t wait. Pack your condoms! A sailor doesn’t want to get caught without a rain jacket!”
“Don’t you worry,” she said as she kissed me goodbye.
I heard nothing from her the rest of the night.
When she got home, long after I had turned in for some much needed sleep, I heard her undress and slither under the sheets, pressing her chilly skin up against my nice, warm, almost feverish body.
“Did you have a good time, darling?”
“Frustrating,” she whispered.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“We went to a gay bar.”
“Where’d you go and who’d you go with?”
She gave me the details and then told me that they went to see a burlesque show. It got her all riled up without any release.
“And, let me guess – now you are crawling back from your fishing expedition looking for my rod.”
“Let me have it.”
“No,” I said.
“Let me suck it.”
“No.”
“Please. Let me just hold it.”
“Lo, I’m still sick.”
“Me too. I want you to catch what I have.”
“Lo.”
She knew I wasn’t joking around. For a third night in a row she was reduced to playing with her toys rather than me (or someone else).
The next day was Super Bowl Sunday and we had been invited over to Mark and Stephanie’s for the game. I still wasn’t sure if I was up for it. I was feeling light-headed and dizzy, occasionally perspiring and having the chills. I didn’t think it was a good idea. Lo pleaded with me, however. She did her level best to nurse me all morning and afternoon, and when 4:00 came around and a game-time decision had to be made, I conceded and said I’d go.
It was a big crowd and Mark and Stephanie had gone all out to make it a super Super Bowl party. There were dips and sandwiches, a fully stocked bar and coolers of beer, and Mark was even manning the grill outside on the deck next to the Jacuzzi. And apparently it was a no-kids party, since I saw neither hide nor hair of the little rug-rats.
We got there and Lo took as little interest in the game as I did in the food. Unfortunately, due to my infirmity, I had no appetite. Lo, got me comfortably seated close to the TV and then she flitted around in her short skirt and sexy blouse. She looked good and I enjoyed watching her go from circle to circle smiling and seducing with her charms. At one point she came over to check on me and she grabbed my bicep and said, “Mmmm, I want you.”
“You don’t fool me, Lo,” I responded back.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I know perfectly well what it is you want.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You want Mark’s meat – and I don’t mean all the burgers and sausages he’s cooking on the grill.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Her apology was an admission of guilt. “But he’s wearing that short sleeve shirt and, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” her tongue made a purring sound, “he’s so hot. But I really do want you.”
“You want to hop on my cock and use me while you think about him.”
“Just the same, I still want you.”
“I’m flattered,” I said flatly.
“Come on, I’ve been denied for almost a week now!”
Cock substitutes are no substitute for cock according to Lo.
The party and the game went on close to midnight and when it was over someone – the safe money is on Lo – suggested getting into the hot tub.
By this time, I was long ready to go, but I stuck it out on Lo’s account. She, of course, had no bathing suit, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Mark descended the staircase in his Speedo and carrying a few robes and towels for people. There was room for six or eight in the tub, but I abstained, not wishing to catch double pneumonia. Mark, a couple of other neighbors, and Lo all were game, however. The neighbors and Lo took turns getting out of their clothes and into their birthday suits under their robes in the downstairs bathroom. Then it was out into the cold dark night, on the deck, beer and wine in hand, and, down fell the robes, in went the naked bodies to the tub. I could see the crew from the kitchen window where I stood, next to Stephanie who also chose to forego the midnight hot tub excursion. Whether it was due to disgust at Mark’s behavior, jealousy of Lola, compassion (or some other feeling) for me, or her stated reason, “to clean up,” I don’t know. All I know is that as she collected and cleared off the dirty dishes, I helped by arranging them in the dishwasher.
Occasionally, I peeked out the window that looked out from the kitchen over the deck, but, not intending to gawk, I made conversation with Stephanie, who, I spied, also was monitoring the situation in the tub from her perch behind the kitchen sink.
“It was so nice of you and Mark to have us all over for the game. You two throw a great party.”
“Oh, we’re just so glad you could make it. I was really worried when I heard about your pneumonia.”
“I’ve been taking my antibiotics and I’m no longer contagious, I promise. I’ve been taking my antibiotics for four days now. I’m just feeling lousy at this point.”
“Well, you really rallied for tonight.”
“It’s always nice to see you. . . and Mark and it was sweet of you to invite us.”
“To be honest, we think you two are a great couple!”
“Thanks. I wish I could live up to my part of the bargain tonight.”
“You are. See, we’re getting to talk now.”
The truth was, I was feeling weak-kneed, but was rallying for both Stephanie’s sake and to keep a close eye on Lo.
“I wish I could be more fun. It looks like they’re having a good time out there in the hot tub surrounded by the snow.” I gestured out the window in an attempt to get a sense of Stephanie’s thoughts on it.
“I’m sure Mark is having the time of his life,” Stephanie said, almost to herself.
“What? What’s that?” I asked as she passed me a plate.
“Oh, nothing.” She dismissed her comment.
“I hope that Lo isn’t making. . .” I didn’t know what to say, but luckily Stephanie rescued my faltering ellipses.
“Me jealous? That’s not it. Can I be honest with you?”
“Yes, please do,” I said.
“After our second kid, I just lost all of my sex-drive. I feel terribly guilty about it. I love Mark. I love him so much and I know he loves me.” She grabbed a paper towel to wipe her eyes that were watering up. “But, I just don’t feel it anymore. I don’t know what happened. I want him to be happy and I know that he. . . never mind.”
“He what?” I was desperate for her to continue. “You can tell me. It’s ok.”
“I know he finds Lola attractive. Who wouldn’t? So, let him have his fun. But I shouldn’t say that. Doesn’t it bother you to hear me say that?”
I took ahold of Stephanie’s elbow and I said to her very quietly, “You both deserve to be happy.” I had no idea what I meant by that and I think that Stephanie didn’t know what to make of it either. Those were just the words that came out of my mouth in a moment of connection and compassion.
I was keen on giving her a hug, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure exactly how non-contagious I was and I didn’t know if it would be welcomed at that moment. As I held Stephanie’s arm, she and I both gazed out the window and we saw Lo emerge, naked as Venus from the churning sea, grab towel, wrap it around herself and then she popped into the kitchen.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Lo said.
“Are you ready, so soon?” I asked, half mocking.
“Thanks for being a dear. Yes. I’ll just get dressed and. . .” She closed the bathroom door and a moment later she popped out. We waved a friendly good-bye and thank you to our hosts and their guests, still outside, and then Lo drove home.
“How was the hot tub, darling?” I asked.
“It was good,” she said. She was speeding.
“Take it easy, the cops are just looking for a reason to pull anyone over tonight.”
“I want to get home and do you!”
“What happened out there?”
“Nothing. I just want you. It’s been a long time.”
“Nothing? Really? Now why don’t I believe that?”
“OK, ok. Fine,” she said, reaching over to grab my crotch.
“You’re driving, you know. And this ain’t a stick-shift.”
“I was sitting across from Mark, naked, looking at his big broad shoulders.”
“Dreamy,” I said sarcastically.
“Dreamy,” she repeated, “especially as the steam wafted off the surface of the water. I would keep on ‘accidentally’ popping my nipples just above the water line so he could see.”
“And everyone else.”
“And everyone else,” she repeated, again groping at my crotch. “Are you getting hard?”
“Never you mind and continue with your story.”
“Well, I had one hand down between my legs.”
“You’re bad.”
“I couldn’t help it, Daddy.”
“Did anyone notice?”
“I don’t think so. But, as I stroked it, I kept playing footsie with Mark. He didn’t say anything, but I know he liked it. At one point, he got up out of the tub to grab another beer and. . .” She pulled her hand from my crotch and placed it in hers.
“And what?”
“And he was so hard, he was practically exploding out of that tiny bathing suit he wore!” Her hand was up her short dress.
“You came.”
“I’m cumming.”
“I mean then.”
“Yes. And now.”
“That’s why you wanted to go. You couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Right.”
“I can’t take you anywhere.”
“You’re going to take me to bed and fuck me senseless!”
That was the last thing I remember of the ride home. I suppose I passed out from exhaustion. The next thing I felt was Lo trying to wake me gently from the driver’s seat as we sat in the garage at home. Like a somnambulist, I found my way to bed. I was the one senseless, not Lo.
The next day, Monday, was a blizzard. Both Lo and I could have slept in. But I had missed work since Thursday of the previous week. I had to go in, at least for a little while. So, early in the morning, before the flakes had fully accumulated, I snuck out while Lo was still soundly asleep, naked in the warm bed. I got to work, feeling much improved, took care of some urgent matters, and then drove home carefully through the poorly plowed streets.
When I got back, I found Lo still in bed. I took one look at her and said, “You masturbated, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”
“Well, I’m going to shovel.”
“What should I do?”
“You could help me shovel, if you’re not too wet.”
“I don’t want to catch a cold.”
“Alright. See you later,” I said, and, bundling up I went outside to clear the driveway.
I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t mad. I was actually glad. Yes, I was still recovering from pneumonia. Yes, I had gone into work on a horrible winter’s day when most of the city stayed home. Yes, Lo had been inside all morning, sleeping late, sexing herself up, and probably jillin’ it once more even as I shoveled away. But the thought of her, nestled up under the covers pleasuring herself filled me with joy. I’m a lucky guy. I can lose sight of that sometimes. Not this time. I shoveled with a smile on my face. When I was done, to my surprise and delight, Lo was not in bed, fucking herself silly to her favorite Tumblr pages. She was in a silky black negligee, helping me out of my bundled jackets and scarves, and then bringing me a hot cocoa as she tucked me under a throw on the couch.
“What’s all this for?” I asked.
“I just love you and I want you to know that I’m the luckiest gal in the world to have you, Daddio.”
“What do you want, Lo?” I asked in my Ricky Ricardo tone.
“Nothing, Daddio. Honest. I just was lying in bed and I realized all you do for me. I just wanted to do something nice in return.”
I sipped my hot cocoa and read a little of the Sunday paper that was still lying out on the coffee table from yesterday.
Lola sat on the couch next to me, her left hand slowly made its way under my covers to my crotch. She grabbed my cock and then began pumping it as I read.
“Lo?”
“Yes, Daddio?”
“What are you doing?”
“Do you like?”
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a hand-job.”
She continued for a little while. Then she pulled her hand away and, like a groundhog or ferret, she nosed her way under the blankets, getting her face buried between my legs and went to work on me with her mouth. At a certain point, I put down the paper and began guiding her head gently up and down.
She abruptly stopped before I was ready to spout. “Let’s go to the bedroom, Daddio. I want to tell you something special.”
She led me down the hall, hopped on the edge of the bed in her little black nighty, revealing her naked ass and puss to me. “Mount me,” she commanded. I did as she said.
“What did you want to tell me?”
When she had caught her breath, she whispered over her shoulder, “I was so bad last night.”
“Yes, Lo, you were. That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
“No, there’s more but. . .” She was enjoying herself at this point, too much to talk. She came in about fifteen seconds. As she came she was yelling, “I love your cock! I love your cock!” When she was done she said, “Flip me over and fuck me.”
I did as she asked. I put her on her back on the side of the bed, held her heels up by my shoulders, and went at her.
“Do you think he liked seeing my pussy, Daddy?” she asked.
“Yes, Lo. Who wouldn’t?”
“I had got it all smooth for him.”
“So, you had that all planned out?”
“No. But a woman should be prepared for the unexpected display of her pussy at all times.”
“A woman, or a slut like you?”
“That’s right, Daddy. Tell me what I am.”
“A slut. A trollop. A dirty, cheap, exhibitionist.” I went on and she came to the cadence of my nasty names. She came so hard she sqeezed me right out and squirted on the floor. I grabbed my throbbing rod and watched.
“Can you hold it in for just one more?” she asked. “I’ve got one more BIG orgasm to go. Pleeeease, Daddio. I know you haven’t cum in a long time. Just hold it in a little longer and then you can cum all over my face. Promise.”
“How do you want it?”
“Here,” she said, positioning me on the bed. “Lie back. I want to taste myself on you.” She lay me down on the bed and got on her knees and went to town between my legs. If she wanted me to withhold my orgasm until she had one more, this was not the way to do it. I felt like her face was in imminent danger of being in the direct line of my fire.
She stopped just in time. She knows me (or cock) well. She went to climb up on top of me, straddling my body with her legs, her knees on the bed. Before she lowered herself down on my very stiff and erect phallus, I said, “No. Wait a minute.” I closed my eyes. Just looking at her may have put me over the edge. I took deep breaths, but all I could think about was seeing her getting in and out of the hot tub the previous night. Just the thought was enough to coax a slow orgasm out of me. I tried to change the channel of my imaginings, but it was as if that special was playing on every station!
“Put a condom on me,” I said.
“What?” she asked in disbelief. We never use condoms. We only keep them around for her special guests.
“Put a condom on me. It’s the only way.”
She hopped off, rummaged through the nightstand drawer, pulled out a string of condoms and hastily slid it over my ramrod. The interval was a good distraction for me. When she was done, she resumed her position and began bouncing up and down, pulling her tits. The barrier between her dripping pussy and my hard, throbbing cock was just enough to keep me going without my going too far.
I reached up to her breasts. “Pull and twist,” she said. “Harder.” I was stretching out her nipples by about an inch and then turning them clockwise a full 180 degrees. She wanted more. I pulled further, twisted further. She was moaning and bouncing and dripping – I could feel it on my lap.
“When you cum, call his name,” I said. I wasn’t sure if she heard me. She was in a frenzy with her eyes closed tight, biting her lip, bouncing her tits up and down. “Call out Mark’s name when you cum.”
No sooner had I repeated the instruction than she started yelling, “Oh FUCK! Mark! Fuck! I fucking love your cock! Mark! Mark! Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark!” She was saying his name every time her hips descended down to bounce off of mine. She was riding fast, at a gallop until she stopped, frozen, held it, and gushed a waterfall downward. At that, I finally gave myself permission to cum and I did, filling the condom with all the pent-up desire that I had unspent over the past week. It was amazing.
When we were done, after catching our breath like runners at the end of a marathon, we lay looking at each other. “He really riles you up, doesn’t he?”
“Not like you, Daddio.”
“Lo, after all of that, don’t you think you can tell me the truth?”
“It’s true. You’re the one for me.”
“But he turns you on.”
“A lot of things turn me on. Does that make you jealous?”
“It would, except you’re right. A lot of things do turn you on and if you weren’t turned on by Mel Brooks, Abbi Jacobson, and certain specimens of other species I actually might be jealous. But due to your pansexual nature, I try to take it all in stride.”
“That’s why I love you, Daddo. You really get me.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you rile him up as well.”
“Really?! She said, her eyes lighting up, her body jumping to all fours like a puppy ready to play fetch.
“Yes. Stephanie told me as much last night.”
“What?! Tell me. Tell me.” Her imaginary tail was wagging with anticipation.
“When you were in the hot tub, playing footsie and showing off your tits. . .”
She interrupted with a long moan of pleasure at the memory.
“Stephanie and I were talking in the kitchen and she told me that she and Mark haven’t had sex since there second kid was born.”
“I knew that already.”
“And she went on to say that she thinks we’re a great couple and that Mark deserves to get his rocks off to the likes of you.”
“She said that?!”
“Well, not in so many words, but the message came through.”
Lola was running her tongue over her teeth in excitement now.
“Maybe you should clue him into the blog?”
I saw her wheels turning and the exciting prospect of having Mark getting to see Lola up close in all those sexy pics of her and hearing all about her nymphomaniacal exploits, jackin’ it to her every untoward adventure. But then she said, “No. Impossible. We can’t reveal our secret selves to anyone we know. It’s too incriminating! You didn’t tell Stephanie, did you?”
“Of course not, dear. That’s your story to tell.”
“Well, I did leave a calling card of sorts.”
“You left one of your Lola Down cards there?! But you just said. . .”
“No no no. I may have, accidentally, totally not on purpose left my panties at their house.”
“You what?!”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. It was an accident. I think they must have fell when I was picking up my clothes.”
“I’ve heard of Freudian slips before, but this takes the cake! How could you not know you didn’t have your panties on?!”
“I knew I didn’t have them, I just couldn’t find them. They must have fallen out somewhere when I bunched up my clothes after getting into the robe. I don’t know. Should I text Mark to look for them?”
“No! Of course not.”
She gave me a quizzical look.
“Oh no, Lo. Don’t tell me you already did.”
“I just didn’t want Stephanie to find them.”
“And what did he say?”
“He said he found them and could return them to me.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said, ‘That’s OK. You can throw them out. . .or do whatever with them.”
“Lola!” Now it was really Ricky and Lucy.
Sea of Porn
It’s hot. It’s humid. It’s February and we’re on vacation – an escape from the winter wonderland of our northern home. Lying out by the pool, I admire the scenery, much to Lo’s consternation.
There’s a DJ who’s also doubling as the MC for the spring-break crowd. He has the limbo bar set up and is spinning “Limbo Rock” as the scantily-clad bikini babes and the sculpted bros do their annual mating dance under it.
Every limbo boy and girl
All around the limbo world
Gonna do the limbo rock
All around the limbo clock
“Enjoying the Bimbo Rock?” Lo asks me, her voice dripping with derision. She glances at me as she asks, but I see her taking in the eye-candy as well.
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
All around the limbo clock
Hey, let’s do the limbo rock
Limbo lower now
Limbo lower now
How low can you go?
“They’re playing your song,” I say to her. “They’re calling your name, ‘Hey Lo – how low can you go?”
First you spread your limbo feet
Then you move to limbo beat
Limbo ankolimboneee
Bend back like a limbo tree
Jack be limbo, Jack be quick
Jack go unda limbo stick
“I’ll tell you what,” she says to me, looking over the rim of her dark sunglasses, “I’ll spread my limbo legs and you give me your limbo stick, and I’ll show you just how low Lo can go.” As she says it, she spreads her legs wide on the reclining chair.
“That’s sounds great,” I reply, “but first, let’s just see who wins, ok?”
“Grrrrrrr,” she says in frustration at my intentional taunt. “Get me a beer, Daddio,” she commands.
“Sure, do you want it in a glass?”
“Yes, please. But pour it right! I don’t want any head.” She paused. “I’ll be giving head later. . . in bed. That’s the only head I want.”
“I can’t wait,” I reply.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she barbs back, “I’ve got my eye on a few likely candidates.”
Later, up in the hotel room, she asks me, “Did you have fun at the pool, dear?”
“Yes – I particularly enjoyed making you jealous.”
“Well, you do a good job of it.”
“It’s not hard at all.”
“It looked pretty hard to me.”
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say.
“Fine,” she says, turning up her nose at me since she apparently took my choice of shower as a snub of her. But there she’s wrong. I just like to be clean and fresh for her.
“You know Lo,” I say before going into the bathroom, “I only have eyes for you.”
Lo ignores this and simply looks at her phone. “Oh, look at that,” she says to me, “A friend of mine just posted that he thinks that his girlfriend looks like Beyoncé.”
“So what? He’s in love?”
“Aren’t you in love? You say I remind you of Lucille Ball!”
“Don’t forget Bugs Bunny!”
“Bugs Bunny?! Really?! Why not at least Jessica Rabbit?”
“You talk like Jessica Rabbit, but you act like Bugs Bunny.”
“Great. That’s love.”
I hop in the shower. When I come out, I find Lo on the bed, naked, her legs spread, one hand holding her phone and one stroking her puss.
“Tell me what you want,” she says to me without even looking at me.
“No, you tell me what you want,” I respond.
This is a familiar game of ours, especially when she’s both mad at me and horny.
“Do you want me?” she asks, seductively.
“Do you want me?” I echo.
“Say it,” she demands.
“No, you,” I say, not willing to give in first.
“Tell me what you want,” she pleads, still stroking herself and pulling at her pussy lips.
“Not till you do first,” I protest.
“I want you to tell me you want me,” she says.
“There you go! You said it!” I declare, victorious.
“Said what?”
“You said, ‘I want you.’”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
“You know, Lo, I love you too much.”
“Why do you say you love me too much?”
“Because I let you off too easily and you get off too easily,” I say as I slowly slide inside her. She’s dripping wet and very loose. She moans as I slip in. Her phone is still in her left hand and she looks at it as I hold her naked body tightly. Her right hand is still over her clit and she rubs it as I thrust.
“Stay deep. Just stay deep,” she orders.
I obey. Her hips slightly gyrate up and down as her fingers quickly pulse on her clit. She cums within seconds. Her thighs clench so tightly she squeezes me out unintentionally.
“Sorry,” she manages to whisper as she climaxes.
“You just used me to get off.” I protest. “You just masturbated with me inside you. I was completely incidental to your orgasm.”
“No, Daddio, you were instrumental to it. Now flip me over and do me from behind.”
I obey. Her phone is still in her hand in front of her now so that I can see what she’s looking at. It’s a lesbian Tumblr page.
“Do you like them?” she asks me about the women I see on her phone over her shoulder.
“It’s like a sea of porn,” I say.
She immediately shuts off her phone. “Not for you!” she says.
“Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink,” I say.
“You can have your fill of this all you want. It’s plenty wet,” she says as her free hand now slaps her ass and then fingers her puss from behind. Her other hand is still busy between her legs from the front.
Without warning, I cum and cum a lot, deep inside her. Her pussy clenches on me, hungrily. But when I’m done, she flips over and complains, “You didn’t wait for me!”
“What?” I ask, perplexed.
“Ladies first,” she reminds me.
“You did cum first.”
“Ladies first and second!”
I go to the bathroom to clean up. When I return, I find Lo looking at the porn on her phone again, jilling to it. I begin to object to this, but she holds up a finger to indicate that I should wait till she finishes. I am polite and wait. She looks up at me with a smile. “Cum often, cum a lot.”
“The Lola Down motto.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” she says.
“I thought the saying was ‘Cum early, cum often.’”
“That too. As well as, ‘Cum one, cum all.’”
“I thought that was the motto of all your blog fans.”
“That’s not their motto, that’s their modus operandi. I cum and then they all cum.”
“You know, Lo, sometimes our relationship really surprises me.”
“How’s that, Daddio?”
“Sometimes I feel like you’re the guy and I’m the gal.”
“Sounds like fun. Tell me more.”
“I mean, you get off on those prurient pics, but I. . .”
“Oh no, here it comes! Spare me your highbrow criticism.”
“I was just going to say, I like a good story, not just T-and-A.”
“Porn stars and women are human too, you know.”
“Really, women are people? Is that so?” I asked, facetiously. “Even you? I thought you were a goddess.”
“You sound like you’re making an object out of me.”
“Darling, you are first and foremost, a subject – the subject, in fact, of reams and reams of pages I’ve written about you.”
“Now you sound as though you’re fetishizing me.”
“Really? You think so?” I ask, even more facetiously. “If you haven’t noticed by now – NEWSFLASH! – you are my fetish.”
“Good grief! Freud would have a field day with you.”
“Lo, you’re all the porn I need.”
“All I’ve ever wanted to be was a good amateur.”
I lie down next to her. “You’re the best,” I say as I immediately begin to fall asleep. She complains that I’m uncomfortable to sleep on. “Your big barrel-chested torso is impossible to lie on.”
“It’s a big bed in a big room in a big hotel in a big city. . .”
“With a big jerk right in the middle of it!”
As I fall asleep, I can hear and feel her going at it again for that magic number three.
[This story was published today, in honor of Memorial Day and all those who serve, on MyErotica.com.]
G.I. Confidential
It started when he wrote an email that said simply, “Love your blog. Can I please have a password?” From that brief, shy, initial correspondence grew a virtual pen-pal connection with one of our men in uniform deployed abroad – somewhere in the deserts of the middle east. He couldn’t say where because it was confidential and who knows who was also reading those emails? But whoever was reading them was in for a tantalizing treat.
[Some images you get from a Google search of “mysexlifewithlola”]
Lo wrote back, in her flirtatious, friendly way, and soon found out much more about her G.I. fan. He was twenty-two, married, one kid. He had been deployed for two years. His wife wrote to him frequently and he loved and missed her dearly. But she sent sexy pics only on occasion, and even then, they were more suggestive than explicit. He loved her, but he dreamed about Lo. He read the blog and studied her pics. He had hotwife fantasies and wished that his own wife would send a nude pic now and then with a note saying, “Please share with your friends.” But that was beyond the realm of possibility.
Because he was so shy around women, it took him a long time to get up the courage to write to Lo requesting a password to the protected posts. Little did he know how flattered she would be. Little did he know how she secretly had a fetish for men in uniform. She encouraged frequent correspondence, but, due to his rigorous duties and the limited time he got on the internet, he could only write back very brief missives.
Even so, he complimented her, flattered her, and reported on his “down time” – his “Lola Down” time, that is. Excited to the point of bursting, Lo sent him many explicit photos with little notes like, “Please be sure to share with your bunk mates,” or “Tell all the guys with you that Lola wishes them all to be safe, strong, and hard.”
After gaining his trust, the G.I. sent Lo some pics of himself and his family. Lo thought it was sweet and that his wife was truly beautiful. He sent a pic of her on their honeymoon in Hawaii where she wore nothing but a lei. Then he sent her the address where Lo could send him actual letters and such. She sent him a signed calendar, saying, “I’ve always wanted to be a pin-up girl.” She told me after the fact.
When she received a warm thank you from him, in which he told her that he posted it by his bunk in the barracks and that all the soldiers were commenting on it, she was thrilled! When he wrote to her a week later, saying that someone had stolen it, she was even more elated. She took it upon herself not only to send her pen-pal a replacement copy, but one for every guy in his battalion.
You can imagine her delight when he wrote her the following email:
Hi Lola. All the guys say thank you for the calendars! They are envious of me because you have been like a hotwife to me. I ordered your book, Match, Cinder & Spark, (even though it’s really expensive in hardcopy!) and at night, before lights out, a bunch of us sit around on our bunks and we take turns reading HH’s stories about you. Last Sunday, we were given some R-n-R and we read the book in the morning. After reading it, five of us went to the showers. It’s one long tiled room with about fifty showerheads. The five of us were naked, under the hot showers, soaping up and very hard and horny from the story we had just read. I hope my wife never finds out about this, but as we were there, lathered and rinsing off, we all started casually grabbing at our cocks. Eventually we started jacking off. Someone grabbed the cock of the guy next to him and soon enough it was a full-fledged circle jerk. We came on each other and laughed and washed down, smacked one another’s ass, and got out of the shower much refreshed.
Pretty soon Lola was getting emails from other guys in the troop and some of them told her how they had Tumblr accounts with their wives or girlfriends on which each would post something that turned them on or pics of themselves so that it was like virtual sex. They told her that they were including Lo’s Tumblr pics so that their wives could see what they like. Lo was thrilled to be the object of the attention of those couples – her virtual three-way.
After a few months of this sort of thing, Lo encouraged her original soldier to tell his wife about mysexlifewithlola.com and loladown.tumblr.com in the hopes that she would become more adventurous in their marriage. With trepidation he did and, we’re happy to report, she opened up to him like never before, admitting to all her erotic longings, fantasies, and desires. The grateful soldier thanked Lo and eventually his correspondences with her became less and less frequent. Hopefully the hot couple is blissfully reunited by this time.
Many thanks to all our men and women in uniform serving our country!
Nevertheless, She Persisted
It had been a long forty-eight hours. It began with a business meeting out of town on Thursday morning. It continued with a red-eye flight back Thursday night. It concluded with a quick shower Friday morning, a change of suit, a coffee, a peck on the cheek hello to Lo as she slept, and then off to the office for back-to-back-to-back meetings all day Friday. The fact that we were in the middle of a heat-wave didn’t help any of that.
Finally, around seven o’clock I returned home, sweat stains under my arms on my white dress shirt. I stripped out of my suit, took a cool, refreshing shower, and changed into a t-shirt and pj bottoms. I told Lo I was too tired even to eat dinner. She pouted, but she understood.
I got into bed, the windows open with a gentle breeze blowing. Before long, lying there on my back, hands behind my head, I had dozed off. It couldn’t have been much later than eight or nine.
Lo, of course, was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed awake. I heard her in the bed next to me. I saw the blue glow of her computer screen as she tried to watch something unobtrusively with her earbuds in.
I heard her toss, I heard her turn and her presence weaved in and out of my dreams. At some point I heard her in the shower. Then I felt her in the bed next to me again.
A little later I detected her unbuttoning the crotch of my pj bottoms.
“No,” I said firmly from my light sleep. She continued. “Lo, no.” She was undaunted. “Lo, I said NO!”
Her hand was already in, her fingertips gently caressing my flaccid member. I said nothing because the soft strokes felt good.
I then felt her tongue on the tip. I was still soft. I felt her lips envelope my whole organ. I felt her tug and pull up and then get her mouthful as she went back down, her head bobbing with the motions.
I could hear her right hand slapping her pussy lips. Then I could hear her hand plunging in and out of her puss with a splosh as she fisted herself, or so I imagined in my dreamlike state.
Soon she had crawled on top of me and was rubbing her pussy up and down my stiff cock. I could feel her dripping down on me.
“Please, Daddy,” she begged.
I made no response. She reached down between her legs and grabbed me and directed my shaft inside her.
My hands involuntarily reached up and squeezed her midriff. “What are you?” I asked from my torpor.
“Horny,” she said.
“What are you?” I asked again as my hands kneaded her belly.
“Eager and wet.”
“What are you?” I asked a third time.
“I don’t know Daddy.”
“It starts with a ‘p-h,’” I said.
“Phenomenal,” she said.
“Try again.”
“Philosophical.”
“Again.”
“What, Daddy?”
“Say it. Say it for me.”
“Phat.”
“Yes.”
“Phat, for whom?”
“Phat for you, Daddy.”
“Good girl.”
She came all over my pj bottoms.
She then pulled up and off of me. I thought that I was now free to return to my regularly scheduled programming – sleep and dreams.
“Get behind me and fuck your phat girl,” she commanded.
“Lo,” I began, as if begging to be relieved of duty.
“Get back there, Daddy. I need it.”
I got behind her and slid in with ease.
“You’re so big, so wet, so loose,” I said.
“I know Daddy. I’m so horny. I’ve been masturbating all night. I even took a shower to cum again. I thought that would be it, but I need you. I need your cock.”
“I can hardly feel you,” I said.
“I can hardly feel you,” she replied.
“Do you want me to put on my sheath?” I asked.
“No, Daddy. I just want you, even if I can’t feel you.” As if oblivious of what she just said, she then added, “If I had two cocks in me, then I might feel something.”
“I’m willing to share,” I said. She came again to that thought. Her pussy squeezed tight on my cock and pushed me right out, as she usually does in that position.
“Get back in,” she commanded.
I did as told. I penetrated her as deeply as I could go and she let out a little moan, saying, “That’s it, Daddy. Stay nice and deep.”
I could feel her Kegel muscles constricting around me.
“I think only a big dog with a good knot would be able to stay in you.”
With that one line, she came again, shooting me out again.
“Fuck me and fuck me fast and furious,” she commanded again.
I entered her and began thrusting in rapid fire. I could hear and feel the splashing. My heart rate was no longer a calm sixty beats per minute as it had been only moments ago when I was asleep. I was up and awake now.
“Slow down!” she called. “Stop!”
“What? Why?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
“I’ll squirt.”
I thrusted again as I said, “Good, I want you to squirt like a fountain.”
“No, Daddy,” she said, but it was too late. She was squirting uncontrollably. But she didn’t cum. She was too wet, too slippery. She didn’t stop squirting. She tried to escape by crawling forward, but I didn’t let her. I followed close behind. She was no longer in control of her body.
“That’s a girl!” I said.
She reached both hands down between her legs to try to stop the geyser, but to no avail.
There was only one way for her to put an end to this hostile takeover of her body and she knew it and used it.
“Don’t cum, Daddy,” she said. “Don’t cum! Whatever you do, just don’t fucking cum.”
I pulled out and stood over her and came with as much force and power as she had all over her back.
“Never fails,” she said from beneath me. “Now, clean me up and hurry, get some new bedding.”
After changing the sheets and blankets, throwing my pj bottoms and t-shirt in the laundry and lying back down in bed, her head on my chest, she asked, “Did you like that, Daddy?”
“Yes, little girl,” I said.
“What did you like?”
“How horny you were. Why were you so horny?”
“I missed you.”
“Lo,” I said, skeptical.
“I missed you and I was watching naughty movies.”
“And so you thought it was ok to fuck me even though I was asleep?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy. But you liked it?”
“Yes, ultimately.”
“What did you like?”
“Your persistence.”
“Nevertheless, she persisted,” she said.
“Well-behaved women seldom make history,” I responded.
“In bed,” she quipped.
Thirty Seconds of Pure Magic
I walk into the bedroom and find her with her knees up under the sheets. She looks at me, guilt all over her face.
“What are you up to?”
“Oh, nothing.”
I rip the sheets down and find her Hitachi lying next to her.
“Nothing, eh?”
“Well, nothing anymore.”
I reach over and grab her cell phone. “Let’s see what you were looking at.”
She tries to grab it back from me, her naked body tackling me as she clamors for me to return it to her; her arms stretching, reaching to get it. With my left hand I keep her at bay and with my right I rifle through her browsing history. I find the evidence.
“Nothing, eh?” I ask again as the video plays.
She lies down in the bed again and spreads her legs. “Come here, Daddio.”
“No,” I say, watching the video.
“Come here and hug me,” she asks in her little girl voice.
I lean over and hug her. I try to get my hips between her legs.
“No no!” she says. “I have to go to work.”
“You had enough time for Mr. Hitachi here,” I say, picking up her Magic Wand.
“Yes, but that only took thirty seconds.”
“So, you’re saying I can’t make you climax in under thirty seconds? I’ve never been more insulted in my life!”
I get up from the bed.
“Pull it out. Let me see it,” she says, delighting in her teasing of me.
I comply with her wishes.
“Mmmmm,” she says.
“Well, too bad, you don’t have enough time for me – only for your machines.”
“I like thinking that you’ll go through your day hard-up for me.”
“Better watch out, I might find me a fembot and fuck the sprockets out of her.”
Scores
Lying in bed at night, I’m sitting up reading a book. She’s on her back, playing with her tits – pushing them up, pulling on the nipples, looking down at them. She says, “Do you think my breasts are pretty?”
I look over at her. “Yes. Very much.” I go back to reading.
She continues contorting her boobs. “No, I mean, do you think they’re attractive?”
“Of course I do, Lo,” I say, without losing my spot on the page.
“Do you think people find them attractive?”
“What people?”
“People?”
“Like who? The people who fuck you? The people who look at you on the internet? People you meet in the street? What people are we talking about?”
“Yeah, all those people.”
“Well, Lo, judging from the number of men and women who write to you every day and send in dick picks and photos of themselves jackin’ and jillin’ to your lovely images, I think the answer has to be ‘Yes.’ Anymore questions?”
I looked back down at her – she was jillin’ it to the thought of all those people cumming to her. Not satisfied with the thought, she rolled over on her tum, pulled out her phone, and began flipping through the scores of photos sent to her by her fans until she hit on one that did the trick. She came.
“Daddy?”
“Yes Lo?”
“Don’t you want to get behind me while I do this?”
“Didn’t you already do it?”
“Don’t you want to get behind me while I do this again?”
I put down my book, got up and out of my pj bottoms, and mounted her round ass as she, on her hands and knees, looked through the fan photos again. I thought to myself, “This could go on all night.”
Her tits were hanging down, rocking forward and back with each thrust. She held herself up with her left hand as she held her right hand, palm open just below her nipples so that they’d graze against her palm as they went back and forth. She liked feeling the fullness of her breasts as they hung there. “Do you think they are saggy?” she asked me over her shoulder as she scrolled through some more pics.
“What?” I asked.
“My tits – do you think they’re sagging?”
“No, Lo. You’re on all fours, like a bitch in heat, and gravity will do its thing, you know.”
She flipped through the photos on her phone and she said, “Look, this couple here – she has very big, very saggy tits.”
Glancing over her shoulder, I could just make out what it was I saw. Luckily, I still had my reading glasses on. “They’re in their forties or fifties Lo. You’re in your twenties.”
I kept going at her as her fingers kept working their magic between her legs. “Do you think they’re attractive?” she asked.
“Who? The couple?”
“No, her tits?”
“Yes, Lo, they’re attractive,” I said.
“Saggy tits can be attractive, right?”
I gave up on answering and focused on hitting hard at the target. Apparently that took Lo’s mind off of her tits for a while because she found a photo that she stared at intently and she began convulsing on my cock, cumming hard.
When she was done, she pulled off of me and rolled on her back, phone still in hand, looking at the photos submitted by fans to her. I asked her, “Lo, what do they all do for you?”
“It’s not what they do for me that turns me on, it’s what I do for them.”
[All photos were submitted to loladown.tumblr.com]
Match, Cinder & Spark – Volume II: MORE! is available now. You can find it in hard-copy here:
http://www.lulu.com/shop/h-h/match-cinder-spark-volume-ii-more/paperback/product-23067871.html
Artwork by: Sir Render
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Happy Belated Valentine’s Day!!!!
Lola wants more