Interview With a Sex Addict

Interview with a Sex Addict 

AL gets a new monitor to look at Lo in hi-def while working from home, his wife in the next room

This week, we bring out our resident admitted and diagnosed sex addict, AL, who goes by “Al.”  He graciously agreed to answer a few questions about sex addiction, for educational purposes.  Lo enthusiastically put on her correspondent’s had (and nothing else) and went to work interviewing him and then, took off the newsgirl hat and teased him, as she does.

  1. How do you define “sex addict”?

Without Googling, I define a sex addict as someone who compulsively engages in sexual behaviors, despite any negative effects created by said behaviors.  They’ve shaped/changed their arousal palette, neural pathways, and reward center to release that sweet, sweet dopamine when engaging in their desired sexual behaviors, even if those behaviors result in negative consequences affecting self, family/friends, job, etc.

  1. Do you consider yourself a sex addict?

Yes, and if not a sex addict—then definitely addicted to lusting after HH/Lo’s pictures and words! Some days I’ll wake up with Lo on my mind and even though I could just stroke right there and cum—I’d much rather click through her pictures and read their words, first.

  1. Tell me more. How did you come to the conclusion that you are a sex addict?

Obviously, I was living life under the self-delusion that I just had high sex drive and a wandering eye. But after multiple therapists—which were a waste of time in the beginning since I never was actually honest about the extent of my situation—I had one in particular suggest that maybe I have a sex addiction. She also stated that it wasn’t her expertise, so she couldn’t help me in the way I needed. After some reading and podcasts, I reached out to a CSAT (Certified Sex Addiction Therapist) and decided to “come clean,” which coincided with my “rock bottom.” It was through her that I was diagnosed as having a sex addiction.

  1. Tell me what “rock bottom” meant for you since we all have different bottoms (no pun intended).

What I mean by rock bottom…long story, short: I racked up multiple thousands of dollars on credit cards in my name (via webcam girls, buying girls things, etc.); I was constantly checking sites like PornHub, Xvideos, eFukt, mysexlifewithlola.com; stopping by strip clubs for lap dances; even seeking out guys with whom to share naked photos/videos of my wife; seeking escorts for random encounters; cheating on my (then) fiancée with girls that she hated.

  1. You’re married to a beautiful, sexy woman. How’s that relationship?

Yes, she is very beautiful and sexy. We’ve been married five years, and together for over ten. We’ve definitely experienced our share of ups and downs. It’s the downs that seem to linger, but that is part of the work. She picked up on some red flags but continued on (as did I). Historically, she hasn’t had a ‘high’ (or medium for that matter) sex drive, and mistakenly, I used to ascribe a lot of the blame on her for my acting out. That was wrong of me. Part of the process involved a ‘disclosure’ of all events/actions that I had hidden away—that was difficult, borderline catastrophic. I ended up making it worse by not being completely honest during my first disclosure, meaning I didn’t come clean to all the details until a second disclosure months later.

Ironically, we’re closer and more strategic (in a non-sexual way) with our relationship now that I’m in recovery. She also sees a therapist who is familiar with partner betrayal (which is very important, or else sometimes the partner receives an unfair share of shame and blame). She doesn’t fully understand (can anyone, really?) but she’s working hard, as am I (sometimes). We do not have sex often, as I’m sure one might wonder…in fact, I’m lucky if it’s once a week and not a quickie. I can see that a day doesn’t go by where it doesn’t hurt her, but life is complicated, and the goal is to be in a better spot than we were.

[Trigger Warning – non-consent]

  1. Did you have any formative sexual experiences in early life?

Yes. At age 3 or 4, my next-door neighbor—who was around 5- or 6-year-old—introduced me to kissing and touching. She would take me in to the closet and show me first-hand what she must have been introduced to by whomever was (sadly) showing her. Additionally, when I was six, I had a handful of experiences involving my cousin (same age) and her friend, “trying to be like adults.”

I would also add that access to pornography at a young age was formative in itself. The internet really changed things, as well. I grew up in an unstable household; I sought pleasure and seclusion. Given those needs and that environment, it’s no wonder to me that I latched on to the pleasures of ‘sex’ to escape.

  1. Best sexual experience?

This is a tricky one…my best sexual experience would most likely be with one of my exes— she was amazing in bed…always wanted to fuck, loved to swallow, and LOVED doing it in public places. I think we were at some random party and their bathroom suited us just fine!

  1. Worst sexual experience?

Is that possible? JK. One of the worst experiences would be one of my first escort experiences. The situation was shady AF, which only prevented me from getting (and remaining) hard. I hadn’t experienced that before, and it was awkward. I remember desperately trying to squeeze my flaccid condom-covered cock inside of her. She understood, but I ended up having to settle for a hand job.

  1. Who knows of your addiction, if anyone?

As it stands right now, five people are aware of my addiction: my counselor, my wife, my wife’s best friend, one of my closest friends from high school, and oddly enough, one of my professors from my first year back at school. I’ve debated sharing with my brother (I think he has some similar issues) and my 14-year-old son.

  1. How long have you been in treatment for sex addiction? And do you feel it has worked?

I’ve been in treatment for 3+ years now with a CSAT. It definitely helped me become more aware. I’m sure there are workbooks, strict plans, etc. Before disclosure, we simply identified the really ‘bad’ behaviors (escorts, strip clubs, webcam girls) and put in mitigation efforts (GPS tracking on phone, website filters on phone and laptop). That’s actually the easy part. The hard part is the act of disclosure (if you’re honest enough), and all of the ‘work’ when no one is looking—that’s where the real gains can be made (or lost).

  1. What would you say to people reading this who are asking themselves: Am I a sex addict or do I just have a healthy sexual appetite?

I would say: enjoy sex. I personally see it as a life enhancer (similar to good food or music); however, if things start getting bad and you’re hiding a lot from people, that can spiral and add so much (unnecessary) stress. Long story short, if there are bad things happening because of one’s sexual appetite, then one should at least look at their impact and see if any adjustments should be made. Life is much more fun being authentic!

  1. Have you ever met a female sex addict? If so, describe what that interaction was like?

I’ve only read about and been told about them, never meeting one in person. I know they’re out there, but the stereotypical addict seems to fall on males and the partner role is assumed to be female.

  1. Why do you think sex addiction has become such a popular topic lately?

I think it’s because sex sells and some people look at it as a crutch or excuse to do what they do. (Which is fine, unless you’re causing unnecessary damage as a result of it.)

  1. Have you read any literature out there about sex addicts or sex addiction? If so, what do you recommend?

Facing the Shadow, Patrick Carnes

“Sex Help with Carol the Coach” (podcast)

“Behind Closed Doors” with Dr. Kate Balestrieri (podcast)

  1. Would you prefer if you were not a sex addict? Why or why not?

I like being who I am, and I like what I’m into. What I’d prefer is being upfront with significant others, and saying: “Hey, this is me…like it or leave it.” I think I grew up in shitty situations, so I’d use sex, love, flirting, etc. as my drug. Throw in the internet, and being someone who is good at lying, and that’s a potent combination.

  1. Biggest trouble that sex addiction got you into?

This list is ongoing, but you’re only in trouble if you get caught! (JK) Gigantic credit card bills…I’m a sucker for spoiling a slut or camgirl, lol. Racking those up was the primary driver in hitting my bottom.

  1. You seem to be successful at your job and still married and a parent. Is there such a thing as a “high functioning” sex addict like there is for a “high functioning alcoholic”? Describe.

Actually, I do think there is such a thing. I was so intrigued by this question, that I even asked it of my counselor—she agreed. Part of being a high functioning sex addict would require being able to compartmentalize almost anything and any time. In doing so, you’re able to build a rationale on the matter. I also know the things I cannot do—although I want to: the strip clubs, seeing escorts, flirting with a slut. And so I am able to navigate the decisions I make, and the steps I take to cover up those decisions if they are of the variety that would ‘give me away.’

  1. Pros and cons of being a sex addict?

Pros: Good ol’ fashioned dopamine at a relatively inexpensive cost (not including the externalities); typically, a more open, and inclusive mind… Cons: Can be relationship killer, money-drainer, and/or source of depression if not approached correctly (is there a correct way? Asking for a friend, lol).

  1. Top five fantasy fucks?

#1 – You!

#2 – An all-night bang session with my wife and her best friend.

#3 – Be part of a gangbang…with some amateur local wife.

#4 – DVP (Double Vaginal Penetration, or two penises in the vagina) with my wife.

#5 – You!

  1. Sexual experience you haven’t had yet but would like to try?

I’ve always wanted to try a threesome, both MMF and MFF. Also, I’ve ALWAYS wanted to share my wife…I can think of multiple scenarios involving her…me watching, not watching, listening, being shown, etc.

  1. Bonus question: From what you know of me, do you think I’m a sex addict?

From what I’ve gathered, and if analyzed with the actual truths, I do. But do I think there are huge negative consequences affecting you? Probably not, given our society.

After our interview was over, Lo was naughty and engaged in the following interaction:

Lola: I wonder how your jacking off to me plays into your current recovery and relationship with your wife.  For instance, what happens when I send you a photo like this?

Lola Teasing

AL: Besides the mini dopamine rush and flinch of my cock?  Or, are you looking for how many times I’ve already clicked on the picture, to enlarge and admire it?

Lola: I like to know that you think about me when you stroke that lovely cock of yours to my photos. Now write about that experience. Include where your wife is. How you keep this solo session from her?  How it makes you feel?  How I make you feel?

AL: Right now, my wife’s sleeping next to me naked.  I’m in the bed, hard as a rock, looking at your photos.  To tell the truth, I forgot how hard I get reading about you; way harder than looking at porn, that’s for sure.

All solo getting off has to be done on the sly for me. My wife and I have a soft agreement that I’m supposed to inform her when I ‘take care of myself.’. . . I often seek out your photos to simply admire and your stories to see what you’re up to, but. . . one thing leads to another.  I don’t always tell my wife when I got off alone and I certainly don’t disclose what I looked at/thought about, especially when it was you.  But these behaviors do cause me to develop a guilt factor when I’m wanting to take care of myself—which I don’t necessarily like.

I am fully aware that you don’t help my addiction.  However, I am also aware that I have needs too, and my mind is fully capable of rationalizing the fact that getting off to your pictures is a lot safer than the ‘acting out’ behaviors I used to engage in.

Keeping you – your pictures and your stories – hidden away from my therapist and my wife certainly doesn’t help my situation, but, as long as I am careful and respectful, it doesn’t necessarily hurt. I like to think it keeps me in somewhat of a steady-state (which I think is only possible because of the fact that I am ‘high-functioning’ sex addict, as you called it). Deep down, I know that these are behaviors that need to change in order to fully ‘recover.’ But I have to ask myself two things: “Is recovery what I really want?” and “Where’s the fun in that?”

Lola: So you’re saying that getting off to me is what we might call ‘harms reduction’?

AL: That’s an interesting take, but yes, sort of a lesser of two evils (although you’re not evil; naughty, yes, but not evil as far as I know, haha). It’s kind of like, I know it is still reinforcing neural pathways that I’m trying to change, but still I pursue that behavior because of my brain’s ability to rationalize and compartmentalize.

Lola: Thought experiment – what would happen if you were married to me and I constantly had guys (and gals) coming over in order to cum over, in, on, to, with, and for me and you were there to watch?  Would that be a cure?

AL: Now that just sounds hot!  If that scenario were real, and guys and girls were coming over to cum with, in, and on you, then I think I’d be in my happy place, as long as you (as my wife) wanted it, and so did I.  (I do, btw, I very much do!)

Tits Out

“Lo, are you watching porn again?” I asked as I noticed her lying on the couch, legs spread, hand cupped in her thigh-gap, her mind keenly absorbed in the screen of her phone.

“No,” she said defiantly.

“Then what are you doing in that provocative position?”

“I happen to be reading an article.”

“Oh yeah?  What article?”

“It’s about the pandemic and relationships.”

“I’m curious.  Tell me more.”

“Oh, it’s just about how some couples realized that their relationship was in shambles once they were deprived of all the other distractions in life.”

“Hmmm, sounds interesting.  What’s it called?”

“I forget the title.”

“But you’re reading it right now.  I’d like to read it too.  What’s it called?”

“Fine,” she said, as if caught fibbing.  “It’s called, ‘First Comes the Pandemic Divorce, Then the Tits Out Summer.’”

“Tits Out Summer, eh?”

Lola’s Tits Out

“It’s educational.”

“I bet it is.”

“Do you plan on having a ‘Tits Out Summer’ this year?”

“This year, every year: summer, winter, spring, fall – never a bad time for tits out.”

“Take ʼem out now.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

She reached into her shirt and pulled her breasts out over the top.

“You’ll stretch it out that way,” I said.

“Stretch what?”

“Your shirt.”

“Oh, I thought you were talking about something else,” she said as she pulled at her nipples, elongating them.

“Mind if I snap a photo or two?  You look divine.”

I pulled out my camera.

“You know,” she said as she posed, “I’ve been called an attention whore for just this sort of exhibitionism.”

“You don’t say.  Preposterous.”

“The way I see it, nudes have always been considered fine art. That’s just how I consider myself – a priceless museum quality piece that should be on display in a venue open to the public.”

“You’re a piece alright!  Very open to the public.”

“What are you implying?”

“I mean, in our day and age, the internet is the democratization of culture, the dissemination of information, the museum for the masses.”

“Quite,” she said as she pressed her tits together.  “And the masses have spoken and I am the embodiment of their collective unconscious vision.”

“Humble too.”

She slid out of her panties and spread her legs.

“I know a photographer who takes photos of naked women,” she remarked.

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

“You should introduce us.  We have a lot in common.”

“Not really.  That’s just my point.”

“How so?”

“Well, each of her models is ‘perfect’ in a traditional sort of way and therefore eminently forgettable.”

“I see.”

“I, by contrast, am unique in a memorable sort of way.”

“That you are.”

“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?”

I put down the camera and picked up my notepad and a pen.

“Daddy?  What are you writing?  I asked, do you want to fuck me?”

“You’ve inspired me,” I said as I scratched away at my note before it vanished from my mind.

“Read it to me,” she said when I put the pad down.  She simultaneously picked up her two plungers — pink and blue (“pink for pussy, blue for bum”) and attached them to the bed’s headboard.

Pink Plunger

“Are you going to engage in double penetration?”

“That’s the objective,” she said, sliding back on the ribbed handles.

“Adventurous.”

“I like to think that I’m open to adventure.  Will you read to me?”

I read from the notebook: “The most beautiful thing in the world cannot be seen, touched, or apprehended by the senses.  It can only be approached by the mind, felt by the soul, and embraced deep within the heart.  It nourishes the imagination and quickens thought.  It is the noumenal trace behind the phenomenal appearance of the nymphomaniac, the sexually confident woman, the eternal feminine open to receive, willing to give, abundantly generous, her glory simultaneously concealing and revealing, her naked resplendence overwhelming thought through her appearance, yet shrouding her in mystery that tantalizes because always unattainable.”

“How Platonic,” she remarked, “and therefore, disappointingly sterile.  Don’t you want to have me?  Don’t you want to approach my body, feel my tits, and embrace me deep within my cunt?  Though I adore your words and ideas, right now I just want you to fuck me.”

Her withering criticism of my inspired panegyric to her dissuaded me from continuing.  If I wanted to praise her, I had to do it apart from words and phrases.  I had to express my love, preferably through my second most penetrating and pleasing organ.

She pulled forward from the headboard, surprising both herself and me as the plungers remained in her holes and became dislodged from the surface where they had been affixed with a sudden pop! noise.  She looked like an animal that had been shot twice with large darts in the aft.  She reached back, pulled the plungers out and lay flat on her back on the bed, playing dead, but for both her hands fidgeting with her pussy as her legs were spread.  She resembled human Mercedes sign.

“I think I’m comprehending your needs,” I said as I removed my clothes.

“Sometimes you’re a genius.”

“My dear, I’m always a genius.  Sometimes I do stupid things.”

“I think it’s the other way around.”

I got between her legs and berated her as she bore the full brunt of my blunt instrument.

The two brothers aren’t enough, slut?  The three brothers and their father couldn’t satisfy your hunger for humiliation?  MILF Meri didn’t cure your craving for cunt?”

She just spread her legs further and took my meat and degradation with stoic equanimity.

For me, at that moment, she was the axis mundi.  Not the world navel, but the hole at the center of the world through which all things emerge in their creation and return in their destruction.

Her hole was wide, taking and giving, full of fluid and overflowing.  There was a sloshing and splashing as she climaxed, after which she simply said, “And now in my ass, Daddy.”

Ass Please Daddy

I pulled out, flipped her over, and slid into her second axis mundi; antipode to the first, the demonic inversion of the fecund orifice.

In one fell swoop I securely conjoined with her and I felt as she gripped my member with intensity.

She cried out in pain, “Now you’ve gone too far!”

“You can’t know where too far is until you get there.”

“You’re hurting me,” she pleaded.

I pulled back, relenting.

“I didn’t say stop,” she called over her shoulder.

I rammed her repeatedly from the rear until her rhythmic response of “oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,” transformed into a repeating release of “ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.”

She could tell I was rapidly approaching the point of no return and so she lunged forward, and with a catlike quickness, pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, opening her mouth and taking my instrument of impalement deep into the back of her throat.

Instinctively, I pulled back, grabbed my manhood with my right hand, and let spew forth all of my liquid love for Lola.

She looked up at me as I painted her face the color of pearl and she said, “I only feel right on my knees, Daddy.”

I spread my legs wide and she got between them, snuggling into my thighs, and licked from balls to tip.  She looked up at me and asked, “Did you like fucking my ass?”

Unable to respond, I put my hands through her thick mane and pressed her face close to my throbbing thermometer.

She opened her mouth and took it in, performing her practice of “cockwarming” as I slowly drifted off to sleep.

Did you like fucking my ass, Daddy?

“This Might Get Messy”

“Hi, I’m here to use your bedroom,” said Meri as she stood in the doorway to my house.

Meri

I was well aware of the plan.  Despite that, she seemed hangdog about showing up on my stoop and having to ring the bell to be let in by me in order to engage in a tryst.  It was all the more awkward because the tryst was not with me, but with the two young brothers from across the street.  Her curt sentence – to the point, devoid of pleasantries – told me all I needed to know.  She was not proud of her choice.  She was driven to do this by some internal compulsion.  She wanted as little interaction with me as possible.  She was hoping that I wouldn’t even acknowledge that I know her.

I know who she is.  I know what she was there for.  I know her secret.

I decided to play to her weakness.  It wasn’t kind of me and I’m not proud of it either.

“Oh, hi Meri!” I said, loudly and genially.  She almost shuttered at the sound of her name and I detected a darting sideways glance to see if anyone was around to hear me say it.

She stepped in hastily, almost landing on my toes.

“Hi,” she said, reluctantly.

Her red hair brought out the blush of her cheek.  She was embarrassed.  She was wearing tight jeans and a black V-neck t-shirt.  Her oversized, dark sunglasses – the kind movie stars wear in order to remain inconspicuous – looked downright comical on her and, if anything, would draw more attention to her, not less.  She was dressed very casually, even understated, except for her fancy, black leather, strappy high heels.

“Why don’t you come in?” I said, getting out of her way as she was already inside.  “Can I offer you anything?  A seltzer?  Coffee?  Glass of wine?”

“No, no thank you,” she said.  She was also nervous.

“Something to eat?”

She wasn’t there for tea and crumpets.  She was there to get fucked and fucked good by two boys less than half her age.  She was eager.  She was guilty.  She was sneaking around behind her husband’s back.  I knew this because, at the very same time that I was letting her into my house for her mid-day delights, Lo was arriving at her house, seducing her husband.

Her timorous greeting was surprising, given how bold and confident she appeared the last time I saw her at the backyard luncheon that Lo and I hosted for her to meet the brothers.  That day she came in with all the confidence and certitude of a seasoned hunter in search of prey.  Her self-assured airs were, perhaps, her most attractive feature.  But now, in the glare of the noonday sun, deprived of young men for whom she turned on the charm, she appeared to me completely transformed.  She was a middle-aged suburban mother of three.  A woman of my own generation.  She and I could have been in high school together.  Back then she would have been the belle of the ball, the prom queen, Ms. Popularity.  But now I could see she was desperate to preserve her youth, in spirit and in appearance.  She feared the ravages of the next twenty-five years.  She hated with a fierce passion the thief who would slowly, methodically, persistently steal from her her most treasured possession – her looks.  That accursed Thief Time! – whom Botox cannot keep out, Silicone and Saline cannot evade, and lifts only delays but fails to destroy.  In that moment, I felt great pity for her.  I could understand her completely and compassionately.  Weren’t we both in the same predicament?

Yes, it may be true, as I’ve often heard women remark with bitterness, that men grow more attractive with age.  Whenever they observe that fact, they never fail to add that it is supremely unfair to women.  Yet, Time steals from us all that which we most covet.  For me, it is my mental acumen and creative powers.  Each time I fail to recall just the right word in a sentence – whether while speaking or writing – I suffer as greatly as Meri when she discovers another age spot or laugh line.

She had aged, and pretty well too for a mother of three boys, but she felt as if Time had stolen more than her prized looks.  It had stolen from her twenty-five years of opportunity.  For twenty-five years she had remained faithful to her husband.  For twenty-five years she had settled for mediocre sex (at best) and the life of suburban ennui.  She felt as if she had been sleepwalking through life and now, her kids grown and nearly out of the house, COVID bearing down on us all, the threat of sickness and death imminent, she had finally awoken from her long slumber.

Though she began her affair with Lola prior to the outbreak of the global pandemic, it probably was the events of 2020 that steeled her resolve.  The news reporters announced that COVID was a threat to “the elderly,” and then it was people over sixty-five.  But then they reduced it to fifty-five.  And finally, people over fifty shouldn’t fly.  In Meri’s mind that was a threat to other people.  Old people.  Until it set in with a vengeance, “Oh, wait.  I’m in that category.  I’m over fifty!  I’m one of the ones at ‘elevated risk.’”

That little thought, that snippet of data, that thread of realization circulated her psyche like a bit of programming virus through a computer, infecting all of the cognitive functions slowly, unnoticed, until eventually, one day, she had made up her mind that if she was mortal and the winter of her life was in sight, then she was going to live out her autumn to the fullest.

The immediate result of that was her here, in my house, staring at me, her contemporary and, perhaps also, in her mind, her rival.  I didn’t view her that way.  But she may have viewed me as such.  She also may have been irritated by the fact that though I was her own age, my partner was the young and lovely Lola – her lover – while her husband was also in his fifties.  If, as I often say, Lola keeps me young, maybe she felt that her husband keeps her old.  At the very least, he was a constant reminder of her fading youth.

“I think you know where the bedroom is,” I said to her, seeing as how she was cool to my hospitality.  “Feel free to use the master bath.”

She looked at me and struggled to form a small smile.  But her eyes expressed a question that she couldn’t bring her mouth to articulate.

“Oh, I’ll make myself scarce so you can let the boys in.”  I emphasized the word “boys” just slightly.

She seemed both appreciative and perturbed.

I opened the closet to take out my jacket since there was an autumnal chill in the air that morning.

Before I left, she plucked up the courage to say, “HH, I know what you’re thinking.”

“That makes one of us,” I replied.  “What am I thinking?”

“You think I’m a terrible person.  You think that I’m an adulterer and a whore for wanting those two brothers.  And who knows what else,” she said with a tortured expression on her face.

“I’m not thinking any of those things,” I replied.  I really wasn’t.  All of that was her projection of her own thoughts on me.

“I’m sure you are.  You’re just too polite to say so.  Who wouldn’t?”

“I don’t.  I’m not here to judge you or anyone.”

“Well, I want you to know that. . .”  She didn’t know what she wanted me to know.  Her sentence trailed off like a road covered by the sands of a desert.

“Meri, all I know is you’re doing Lo a favor and she’s doing you one in return.”

 

Lo pulled up in the cul-de-sac and parked in front of Meri’s house.  Meri had told her husband Scott that she needed a day to herself.  Without the option of going to the hairdresser, the spa, or the nail salon due to COVID, she needed to have some way of engaging in “self-care” and “me-time.” She told her husband she craved some time away, but didn’t say how she was going to spend that time.

Little did he know or even suspect that it was really “fuck-me-time” with two brothers the same age as her sons that she craved so much and how she chose to care for herself.

Knowing that Scott wouldn’t object to her being out of the house, she also informed him that Lola wished to come over to use the kitchen.  She would be making a meal to deliver to a friend who wasn’t doing too well and Lo’s kitchen wasn’t big enough.  The friend had a large family and Lo wanted to help out during these trying times.  All of that was actually true, except it conveniently left out the ulterior motive which was to seduce Scott in order to provide Meri with a clear conscience.  If you ask me, that was not the way to clear her conscience.  My guess is that her unconscious had ulterior motives, one of which was to have her man fuck Lo.  Another of which may have been to prove to Lo how terribly awful Scott is in bed in order that Lo wouldn’t judge Meri harshly for wanting to fuck the brothers.  Her motivations remain murky, but this was the plan.

Lo was assured that the three boys would be out of the house when she arrived that Sunday morning and only Scott would be home to receive her.  Wearing her turquoise pumps and a cute matching dress, Lo practically skipped into the house when Scott opened the door for her.  The contrast between Meri’s skulking and Lo’s bright, cheerful, perky personality couldn’t have been more stark.

Lo carried some ingredients in a paper shopping bag and passed them to Scott at the door, saying, “I just can’t wait to make use of this kitchen!  It’s enormous!  I’m so envious.”

Scott wasn’t used to this sort of feminine energy in his house.  He was enchanted by Lo’s Manic Pixie Dream Girl persona.  Who wouldn’t be?  Lo began talking a mile a minute.

“I have so many plans for this meal.  Will you help me make it?  Are you busy?  Am I interrupting something?  I hope not.  I’m making it for a friend who’s not feeling well and she has four kids.  You can relate, right?  By the way, where are your boys today?  I don’t see them around.  I hope I didn’t scare them off.”

Scott was about to answer each question, but Lo just steamrolled to the next sentence.  He was left speechless.

“This might get messy,” said Lo, “I don’t want to ruin this dress.  Do you mind if I change out of it?  Do you have a kitchen apron I can wear?  Oh, I see one right there,” she said in rapid fire, going towards the door with a hook on the back where the apron hung.  She grabbed it, draped it over a chair, and then slipped out of her dress.  She had on no bra.  All she wore was her blue satin panties with lace frills.  “You don’t mind if I change in front of you, do you?  I hear you’ve already seen me naked.  And you saw me sunbathing in your backyard, so it’s not like it’s anything new.  There,” she said, putting the apron on over her bare breasts, “done.  Now, are you interested in helping me?  You can beat the eggs.  Here, let me show you.  Do you have a lot of experience in the kitchen?  Probably not, with Meri here.  She’s fabulous.  You know, she told me you’d be willing to do anything I ask.  Is that right?”

Lo readily enlisted him to assist her.

“Here, move the whisk in this motion,” she said, grabbing his wrist and guiding it, using the same motion that she would use to jack him off.

For the most part, he made a halfway decent sous-chef.  They made a quiche, a soup, and they were in the middle of preparing the ingredients for a cake when Lo, slightly frustrated that Scott had not made any moves on her yet, “accidentally” spilled the flour on him.

“Oh my!  I’m so clumsy!  I’m sorry!  Let’s get you right out of those clothes.  You look like a ghost.”  She reached for his shirt and helped him to unbutton it.  He didn’t resist.  She went for his pants and unbuckled his belt.  He didn’t resist.  She unzipped the fly.  He didn’t resist.  She dropped them to his ankles.  While she was down on her knees, she looked up at him, her mouth slightly agape.  There was finally a pause to all her chatter.  They looked at each other – she from below up, him from above, down.

“Should we get you out of these too?” Lo asked while gently pulling down his boxers.  He didn’t resist.

Lo was supremely curious to see just how small his member was and, though she had been fully warned ahead of time by Meri, she still was shocked by the diminutive size of it.  It was truly a micropenis.  Lo thought to herself that her own clit is probably larger than his prick.

Nevertheless, there it was.  Erect?  She wondered.  Only one way to find out.  She lifted her mouth to it and took it between her lips the way she would if she were teasing Meri’s clit.  She used the tip of her tongue to flip and lick it.  It grew, but only slightly.  He was nervous.  She could tell by his shallow breathing.

“Do you like?” she asked when she took her mouth off his clit for a moment, looking up at him.

He could hardly speak.

She took his small balls in her mouth from below.  She teased and tickled them with her tongue as well.

She removed her mouth and looked up at him once again.  “Do you want to fuck me?”

She stood up and dropped the apron, revealing her breasts.  She kissed him on the mouth.  He had to hunch over to reach her since their height difference was so great.  She grabbed his left hand with her right and placed it on her right breast for him to fondle it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” she repeated again as she slid out of her satin panties.

“Y-Y-Y-Yes,” he stammered.  “But. . . Meri.  But, I’m m-m-m-married.  I can’t. . .”

Before he could finish his sentence, Lo put her index finger to his lips to shush him.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered seductively.  “Meri knows.  I told Meri how much I have wanted to fuck you since the first time I laid eyes on you.”  She lied.  “She gave me permission.”  This revelation wasn’t in the plan.  It was a last resort in case just this sort of conflicted Scott presented an impediment to their scheme.

He looked startled.  Confused.  He had lived a faithful, monogamous life with Meri.  Their marriage had been the picture of domestic decorum, so he thought.  Where did this come from?  He surmised that it was his fault.  He attributed it to the night he and Meri read the blog together and he fucked Meri from behind while looking at Lola’s pics on the computer.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Lo repeated.

“Yes,” he finally admitted, “but not here.  The boys might come home at any minute.”

He led her to the master bedroom.

“The boys might come home at any minute.”  The phrase was echoing in her head as he walked in front of her.  This made no sense to her.  She was promised they wouldn’t be home.

“Where are they?” she asked before they got upstairs to the bedroom.

“Meri asked them to do some errands.”

“Errands?  Like what?”  Lo needed to know.  She needed to calculate how much time they had together.

“Taking the trash to the dump, shopping, bringing her clothes to the cleaners.  That sort of stuff.”

“When did they leave?”

“About a half hour before you got here.  Why?”

“Just curious,” said Lo.

They entered the bedroom.  To be very honest, Lo did not find Scott attractive at all.  But Lo does find the power to seduce a married man, especially a man married to a woman as sexy as Meri, very attractive.

 

Brothers, Lo, Meri

Meri was doing Lo a favor by redirecting the brother’s sexual attention from Lo to her.  Though Lo has used the boys for their perpetual pumping prowess during the strict restrictions of COVID, when her usual prowling about for pleasure was severely curtailed, and though they have used her like a 24/7 drive-thru window, Lo had grown bored and tired of being the living sex-doll for the siblings.  Spread legs, pump hard, fill ’er up, repeat.  But she didn’t want to leave them high-and-dry when social interaction had been so reduced due to COVID protocols and the strict, watchful eye of their doting mother, who didn’t allow them out of the house or to have visitors over, with the exception of going to see Lo.  Meri seemed to be the perfect wet stream into which to channel their virile energies.

For Meri, these two handsome youths provided a more acceptable outlet for her overflowing and irrepressible gravitation toward young boys.  And not only was there one willing wanker, but two!  Each, roughly the same ages as her sons.

 

The two brothers arrived at our doorstep at the appointed time.  Meri, now dressed in a black satin robe, barely long enough to cover her ass, greeted them at the door.  Thanks to Lo’s preparations, they knew that they would be met by her and not me or Lola.

They were eager to have this MILF, especially after hearing Lo’s rave reviews of Meri’s sexual abilities.  Meri, for her part, was overwhelmed by their youthful good looks, their innocent smiles, their sibling resemblance, their trim and V-shaped torsos that had not yet fully grown into the frames of full-fledged men.  To say she was wet with the anticipation of seeing them both nude, together, standing intensely at attention and desirous of her would be understating it.

 

She led them to the bedroom, allowing them to enjoy the teasing revelations that her robe afforded them from behind.  Once she had let them in the bedroom and closed the door behind her, her demeanor suddenly changed from friendly and salivating over her prospects to stern and commanding.  “Strip,” she said with authority.

The boys were not used to this tone, but they hastily obeyed, unbuttoning their shirts and removing their pants until they stood before Meri without a shred of clothing on either of them.

Meri liked what she saw.  Not only were they fit, with abs as rippled and firm as a washboard, but they were hung like she hadn’t seen in a long time, except in porn.  Each of them possessed a cock that, even when flaccid, as they were then standing naked before her, displayed a girth and length that was very impressive.  She was eager to see just how much those cocks would impress when aroused.

Now that they were naked, she slowly removed her satin robe, revealing a black lace bra and matching black lace panties underneath.

“Lie down and lie back,” she ordered.  The two boys got on the bed – the bed I share with Lola, just to be clear – and she got between them.  She grabbed a cock in each hand and began stroking up and down.  “Let Mommy make you feel better,” she said to them, revealing her kink to them.  They responded with enthusiasm.

 

Lo calculated that this had to be quick and dirty.  Naked, she climbed up on the bed and remained on all fours, looking back over her shoulder at Scott as she said, “Fuck me.”

He approached the side of the bed.  He was very tall.  His cock was aligned with Lo’s pussy, but it was too small.  He made a few thrusting movements and Lo looked over her shoulder again and said, “Good.  Now fuck me.”

“I am fucking you,” Scott said.

Lo couldn’t feel it.

“Get in there.  Give it to me,” she said.

He thrust harder.  She felt nothing but the slap of his fat pelvis on her round ass.

“Fuck my ass,” she said, hoping she might get more stimulation that way.

“Really?” he asked in disbelief.

“Yes.  Fuck me.  I need it.”

She could feel him doing something back there, but whatever it was, it didn’t feel like he was penetrating her any more in her ass than he had in her puss.

She didn’t want to make him feel as inadequate as he was, so she gave in and began to moan.  “Yeah,” she said, long and drawn out, “that’s it.  Fuck my ass.  Oh yeah.  I love to feel cock in my ass.  Do you like my ass?  Am I tight?”

Scott only managed to make a few grunting noises.

“Slap it.”

Scott slapped her right ass cheek.

“Harder.”

He complied.

“Yes.  I’m going to cum.  I’m going to cum.  You’re making me cum in my ass,” she said, lying all the way.

Suddenly she felt his warm jizz all over her.  She pulled forward, turned around rapidly, opened her mouth and took his small, wet pud between her lips, rolling her tongue over it, licking it clean.

He immediately fell into the bed like a giant sequoia toppling to the earth.

“Holy shit!” he said.  “Lola.”

And without any other comment, he promptly began to snore lightly.

The whole affair, from the moment they entered the bedroom to his collapsing, was less than five minutes.  Lo knew because she was keenly aware of the time, afraid that they would get caught in the act when the boys came home.

Relieved that her performance was complete, Lo got up and went downstairs to put her clothes back on, but just as she entered the kitchen, she heard the three sons enter from the front door.  She threw on her panties and, without enough time to put on her dress, grabbed the cooking apron.  She was still adjusting it when they entered the kitchen with groceries.

“Lola!” said the youngest one – the one who knew her the best.

The other two gave her a suspicious look.

“Oh, hi,” she said, awkwardly.  “I’m Lola.”  She hadn’t ever formally met the two older brothers.

“We know,” said one of them.

She smiled, realizing that they know her from getting off to her images and stories on the blog.  The three brothers were all very tall, like their dad, but of three different heights.  And they were thin and lanky, indicating that all their caloric intake was still going toward there expanding vertically, not yet horizontally, like their dad.

“Didn’t your mother tell you I was coming over?” she asked.

“No.”

“Oh, Meri invited me to use the kitchen to prepare a meal for one of my friends who is not doing so well.  Your kitchen is so much larger than mine.”

“Do you always cook barefoot and topless?” asked one of the boys rudely.

“Where’s dad?” asked another one.

“He’s upstairs, sleeping,” said Lo, hoping they wouldn’t ask too many questions, like how did you know he was sleeping upstairs and why would you know that?  Also, Lo couldn’t remember if she shut the bedroom door behind her as Scott lay naked on the bed.

She wanted to distract them from that line of questioning and so she “accidentally” dropped the whisk.  She bent over to pick it up, showing the three boys her ass in the cute turquoise panties she was wearing. But her little ruse backfired, so to speak.  The boys, noticing her ass, also noticed that her lower back was covered in cum.

“You and dad?” asked the youngest.

“What?” replied Lola, dropping the ‘innocent little ole me’ routine.

“You fucked dad.  There’s cum all over your back.”

“Ew!” said one of the other boys.

“It’s more like he fucked me,” responded Lo, quickly realizing that in order for this situation to be contained, she’d have to act fast.  “And so can you,” she said to the three of them.  She removed the cooking apron, revealing her breasts.  “Who wants to be first?”

“It’s more like sloppy second, isn’t it?” said the oldest.

Lo walked to the bedroom on the first floor.  She had noticed it earlier.  She turned to the boys, “I’ll be in here.  One at a time.”

One at a Time

She got up on the bed on all fours, as she had done earlier, and slowly removed her panties.  The door to the bedroom was across the open-concept kitchen and she left it open for them to see her wet snatch, inviting them in.  The eldest brother went first.  He took down his pants just far enough to let out his cock.  He didn’t shut the door behind him and the other two brothers watched.  They could only see his back.  His pecker was only slightly larger than the father’s.  He fucked Lo from behind for about ten minutes before cumming in her pussy.  Though more significant than Scott’s ineffectual fuck, this hardly proved substantial enough to get Lo off, but she put on a first-rate performance again.

As soon as that son left the room, the middle one came in.  He too left the door wide open, as if there was an unwritten rule in the house about not closing doors.  He got completely naked and told Lo to suck his cock.  She did so happily and easily since he too was diminutive in size.  He got very hard, though not thick or long, and then turned Lo around and had her doggie-style as well.  He too came in her cunt.  Lo’s faux climax was louder and more intense than the previous two.

Finally, the youngest boy came in.  He had desired Lo for a long time, and especially since he was Lo’s eager student for the intimate biology lesson she gave him when they were camping.  Lo resolved that she couldn’t say no to him after granting permission to every other household member.

He looked like the wolf about to devour Little Red.

“On your back,” he said with a surprisingly authoritative tone.  He spoke like he owned her.

Lo rolled over.

“Spread your legs, wide.”

She did.

“Spread your pussy lips.”

She used her index finger and thumb of each hand to pinch her pussy lips and pull them apart.

He got on his knees and dove in with his tongue, like a honey badger, the way Lo had taught him.  He licked and sucked and sloppily slurped her up, as well as her cream filling, bringing her to her first authentic orgasm of the day.

Then he dropped his pants and entered her pussy.  “Mom always said I could learn a lot from you, Lola,” he said.  He then added, “I can’t believe this is finally really happening!”

Learn from Lola

As Lo lay there, spreading her legs wide, feeling nothing of his repeated and vigorous thrusts, she grabbed her tits and stretched out her nipples, putting on a show as she internally was waiting for him to finish.  She looked over at the bookshelf in the room and read the titles: Tampa, the Fifty Shades series, all five volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark.  That’s when she realized, this isn’t any of the boys’ bedrooms.  This is a spare bedroom that Meri uses for her masturbation session.

She then heard the sound of heavy footsteps upstairs.  She tried to speak, to utter a warning, but the youngest was going at her and he had bent over, sucking on Lo’s udder like it was feeding time.

“Your Dad.  He’s coming,” she managed to articulate just before. . .

Two for One

Meanwhile, back at our house, Meri and the two brothers engaged in just about every conceivable permutation of penetration possible with two penises and a hungry MILF who likes to perform kinky roleplay.  Besides the positions you might readily expect (including many that they had practiced on Lo in the preceding months of using her as their COVID cum-dump), the highlights included Meri taking both their cocks in her mouth at once for a double-brother-blow-job.  Why hadn’t Lo thought of that?  Meri wasn’t ready or able to accommodate the two in her ass and puss because, after years of sex with Scott, the girth of just one cock was almost too much for her, in either orifice.  But she tried to outperform any of the brothers’ previous partners, including Lo, by being as raunchy, dirty, and devilish as she could.  She let her wild imaginings roam free.  The brothers had never experienced anything like that and after the raunchy rendezvous they never could look at their mother the same way again.  As if two brothers sharing a mother (not their own) wasn’t incestuous enough, Meri had to push the boundaries by saying things such as, “You want to suck Mommy’s tits?” and “Kiss Mommy hello,” as she spread her legs, “Tell Mommy how much you love her.”  Meri lost count of how many times she climaxed and also, to her great astonishment, was unable to count how many times the brothers came since, unlike her husband, they were capable of reloading their weapons with astounding alacrity.

As they fucked her, as she sucked them, as they penetrated her ass, as she ran her hands up and down their smooth torsos, as they squeezed her tits, as she held their hefty balls and weighed them in her hands, she thought of all sorts of other perverted possibilities that she’d like to perform with them, for them, on them.  She, being a natural-born schemer, was scheming already.

 

Scott was on the stairs when he saw two of his sons standing by the kitchen countertop, looking intently at something.  He glanced over to the mirror, positioned on the wall just-so, allowing a view of the bedroom door.  There he saw his youngest going at Lola with more vigor and verve than he ever could muster.  He waited on the stairs silently until the show was over and the youngest emerged from the bedroom triumphant.  Then he continued his descent down the stairs and onto the first floor.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, pretending to be oblivious to it all.

“Guess who just lost his virginity,” said the oldest brother, proudly slapping his youngest sibling on the back and presenting him to his father.

Apparently this family really was quite open and matter-of-fact about all things sexual.  However, Lo knew that the congratulations for this accomplishment was actually late and misplaced.  But there was no simple way of explaining to his father or his brothers how he actually lost his virginity, so the youngest just accepted the accolades and smiled broadly.

Lo emerged, naked from the bedroom.  Her clothes were haphazardly strewn about in the kitchen.  There was no other, more graceful way of getting them.  The three boys and their father looked at her as she walked silently.  Her hair was a mess.  Her breasts still glowed red where she was groped and sucked.  And the cum of four men was dripping down her ass and inner thighs.  She could feel it slowly oozing past her knees and down to her ankles.  (Parenthetically, it is rumored that the smaller the penis, the larger the load.  Lo would attest to the veracity of that adage.)

“I probably should be going,” she said as she picked up her panties and slid them on over the tacky mess.  She felt like she was literally the glue that kept this unusual family together.  She slid on her dress and slipped her feet into her shoes.  She could feel cum on her instep as she did so.

“Bye,” she said, trying to smile, trying to walk with class and dignity as her bare feet in her shoes were slurping and her pussy was making gurgling noises as even more cum slid out of her.

Queef

“Too bad you missed Meri,” called Scott to her.

When he said that, the youngest son, who had met Roy and Gary at our backyard picnic a couple of weeks prior, put two-and-two together.  He suddenly realized where his mother was and what (or whom) she was doing.  That’s right.  It was all just a convenient ploy to allow her to have the brothers.  These four men thought they were taking Lo for their pleasure, but they had been taken in by Meri, their mother/wife/lover.  This created a poignant pang of jealousy in the mind of the youngest boy as the full implications of the deception dawned on him.

Lo sped home, fearing that she had gone too far, said too much, fucked too many.  She doesn’t usually feel that way after coaxing the cum from four men, but these weren’t just any random four men.  They were three brothers and their father, the husband and three sons of Lo’s lesbian lover who, at that very moment was coaxing cum from two other brothers roughly the same age as her own sons.

Lo pulled in the drive.  She saw my car was there and Meri’s car was parked across the street.  She had called me on her way and so she knew that I had left on foot for a walk through the neighborhood and to the park.  She asked me to come home.

I arrived just as she did and she asked me, “Where’s Meri?”  Neither of us had to wait long for our answer because, bellowing out from our bedroom window, just as Lo had done so many many times before, was the primal scream of a woman climaxing like crazy.

We both looked up to the window in astonishment at the sound – for it conveyed almost supernatural overtones of pleasure – and in fear.  For how long had she been carrying on like that?

Window Crack

“Doesn’t she know that the brother’s live just across the street and their mother can hear her?” asked Lo, articulating the concern we shared.

Lo parked and tooted the horn to give a signal to Meri that we were returning to our home.

In we went, and from the entrance we could hear the boom-boom-boom of someone being fucked as if bent over a bureau down the hall and in the bedroom.

“Wait here,” said Lo, taking command of the situation.  She strutted down the long hallway and knocked rapidly and loudly on the wooden door.

One of the brothers opened the door.  He stood naked beneath the lintel.  Lo looked in and saw Meri bent over, her hands supporting her by resting on the windowsill, her legs spread wide, and the other brother banging her from behind.  In her behind?  Possibly.  Probably.  The brother at the door, Gary, was limp, sweaty, and panting, as if recently tagged to be replaced by his teammate.

“Look,” said Lo, “this is fun and all, but her bellowing like a banshee is going to alarm the whole neighborhood, including your mom, if it hasn’t already!”

Just at that moment the doorbell rang.  It was the bothers’ mother!  I answered it, slowly, coolly, calmly.

Lo was busy getting the brothers dressed.  Roy, who had been banging Meri, framed by the window, pulled out, hard, wet, and fully loaded.

“Are my boys here?” asked the mom.

“Just a minute,” I said, stalling, “I have to grab a mask.”  COVID precautions.

I ran down the hall.  “She’s here,” I whispered.  I saw Meri, stark naked, cum covered, her hair matted down with sweat and who knows what other bodily fluids, her chest heaving on the bed, her hands cupped between her legs either giving her pleasure or keep the cum inside her.

Lo was in full-on damage-control mode.  “Tell her that they’re helping me move some furniture.”

“Right.”

I returned, no mask.

“They’ll be right here,” I said, nervously, “they’re just banging. . . some furniture.”

“What?  And where’s your mask?”

“Oh, sorry, I couldn’t find it.  Let me go look again.”

I disappeared down the hall again.

“She’s not happy.  She’s suspicious,” I said to Lo.

“No shit!  Make her unsuspicious.”

This time I grabbed a mask from the nightstand.  I went back to the front door and as I approached our nosy neighbor, I went to put the mask on.  Only, it wasn’t a mask.  It was Meri’s black underpants!  And they were quite creamed in too!

“Oh, this isn’t mine!” I said, fumbling.  “I’ll be right back.”

I tossed the panties somewhere, anywhere, and reached in my bag to find a proper mask.  Returning, I said, “Lo’s tied up at the moment.”

This wasn’t exactly true because there had been times when the brothers actually tied her up to the bed and had taken turns with her.  But, as a turn of phrase, it was true enough.

“But my boys, are they ok?  I heard screams.”

“Fine.  Strenuous work, you know?  But they’re big, strapping young men.  Great energy and enthusiasm those two.  You should be proud.”

“They don’t ever lift a finger for me at home.”

“Well, ain’t that just like boys,” I said, not knowing what the hell I meant.  “I assure you, they are always up for the occasion here.  They’ve helped Lo when they’ve come many times.”  I was babbling now.  “And Lo has come and come.”

“What?” she asked, suspiciously.

“I mean, here comes Lo now!” I said, relieved to see Lo appear next to me in the doorway.

“Thank you so much for the use of your boys. . . again,” she said, sweet as pie.  “How can I show my appreciation for everything they do?”

“I just was checking to make sure everything’s alright.  I heard some screams.”

“Fine, fine.  Just the old power saw.”

“Power saw?!”

“Yes,” she said searching for a story.

“Do they even know how to use a power saw?” asked the concerned mother.

“Oh, they’re handy, those two!  They can slice and drill, bang, and erect things like master carpenters.  I’m always amazed at their talents.  Do they take a shop class in school?”

“No!  I don’t think they’ve ever even held a hammer.”

“They sure can wield a tool,” said Lo.  “This old apartment would probably just go to pieces without them.  Thanks ever so much!”

Just then the brothers appeared in the doorway.

“Hi Mom,” said one of them genially.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure,” said the other brother.

“They were just moving furniture,” I said, trying to clue them into the alibi.

“And using the power saw,” added Lo.

“Right,” said Gary.  “Make sure you don’t touch that.  It’s dangerous.  But thanks for letting us help you out,” he added.

“Such sweet kids, thanking me for their time and talent,” interjected Lo.  “I hope I didn’t keep them too long.  I told them you’d be worried.  Especially with all that ruckus.”

The confused but genial neighbor mom finally left with her two angels.

Lo removed her mask and walked back to the bedroom, got naked and climbed into bed with Meri.  The two of them shared stories of their busy afternoons.  Contrary to Lo’s fears, Meri ate up all the nefarious fornicating Lo relayed to her about Scott and the three boys.  Literally.  When Meri heard that Scott came on Lo’s back and the boys in her cunt, she licked Lo’s lower back and labia, lapping up the sticky sap from her sons and husband.

Lo and Meri

Lo returned the favor after Meri recounted with arousal the ways that she was used by the two brothers.  When the two of them finally finished fucking and filling in the gaps, Meri got dressed, sans panties (since later that evening I found those where I had tossed them when searching for a mask) and said a curt goodbye to me.

She felt rejuvenated, light, high, like a teenager again.  She needn’t see my old countenance to remind her of her true age.  She went home to her husband and sons.  She was reeking of sex, sperm, and self-satisfaction.  How was she greeted by her family when she arrived?  I don’t know.

Meanwhile, Lo was reeking too and ready to relive the day’s events by recounting it to me.  We got into bed and she said, “You want me?”

I said, “I do.”

She said, “Well, you’re going to have to settle for Stoya because I’m all fucked out.”

“Really?” I asked in disbelief.

“Well, you can start with her and we’ll see where things go.”

She took out my Stoya Destroya, lubed up my hard cock, and slid the Fleshlight cylinder down my shaft.

“Her pussy feel good?” she asked.

“So good.”

“Kiss me,” she said.

I kissed her wet lips that had done so many dirty deeds throughout the day.

“Tell me all,” I said.

She turned on her back and put the prosthetic pussy between her legs and moved her finger down to the clit on Stoya’s pussy, just as she would do to herself during sex.  She slid it into the slippery slit, pressing up against my shaft as I fucked her – I mean, fucked Stoya.  She knows I love that feeling.  She slid into Stoya’s tight twat a second finger.

Then she began speaking, starting with pulling up in front of the suburban house.  We had to take many breaks because she kept taking me to the brink with her words and wiggling fingers.  Eventually, she removed the sex toy from my cock and replaced it with her own puss, sitting up on top of me, riding me up-and-down.

“Oh, Daddy, you have no idea how much I craved a good, thick, long cock today,” she said.

“I’m glad I can satisfy your craving.”

She chuckled a bit and said, “I wasn’t talking about your cock.  Your cock is serviceable.”

She came nonetheless, but then she asked me to pull out her Remus horse cock dildo to actually fulfill her deepest desire.  I took it out of its box and affixed the suction cup bottom to the full-length mirror about a foot and a half from the floor.

Lo got on her hands and knees and slid back onto the protruding equine penis.  From that position she looked up at me, sitting on the side of the bed, and continued her story, cumming multiple times.

Sometimes I think that she engages in these sexploits only to turn herself on by the recollection of it later.  Anaïs Nin has said, “We write to taste life twice.”  In the same vain, Lo tells her tales to me to be in control of her own climaxes.  By her own account, she came many more times in retelling than in the actual encounter.  As I stroked my cock to her tale, she told me to cum all over her when she got to the part about frolicking with Meri in our bedroom.  She told me how Meri greedily licked all the remaining cum from her body that was deposited there by the three boys and Meri’s husband.  That was the depraved detail that delivered me from my state of delirious desire.  Lo tilted her head up, opened her mouth, and received my offering to her divine chalice like a champ.

Friends, Fans, and Fucks

Harder

 

His name is Al and he is a sex-addict.

“Hi Al.”

He writes to Lo on the sly.  “You are my favorite slut.”

“I’m everyone’s favorite slut,” she quips back.

“I have a sex addiction.  My wife keeps me under lock and key.”

“If I were married to you, I would not only allow your sex addiction, I’d be your #1 drug.”

“I have no doubt,” says Al.  “But why are you such a slut?  What explains it?”

Al and Lo

“My man, HH, he is a great guy, but we’re about 30 years apart and I’m a little slutty nympho who drains him of all he’s got.”

“Now you’re begging the question.”

“I never beg, except for cum.”

“So you’re a sex-addict too.”

“Addicts go to meetings.  I prefer to say I’m sex-positive.”

“What is it you want?” he asks.

“I want my pussy pounded,” she replies.

“Besides that.”

Al and Lo

“There’s only one thing a woman wants from a man as he pounds her pussy.  She wants it harder.”

“I guess I was asking a different question.  I was asking about something deeper.”

“Yes – harder and deeper.”

“Let me ask the question this way: Isn’t there a down-side to too much sex.”

“Yes!” says Lo excited.  “I was just saying this to HH last night.  I let him have my ass and he said, ‘You’re so loose.’  I told him, ‘You’re the fifth guy I’ve had up in there today and not the largest by a long shot!  I can’t even feel you.’  There you have it.  That definitely is a down-side.  The Lola Down side of Lola’s backside, if you will.”

“The fifth cock?!  What are you, a prostitute?”

“I’m just your local neighborhood nympho.  Word gets around.”

“Do you date these guys or just fuck them?”

“Dating is a journey, usually with a destination.  I just enjoy the ride.”

“You are one exceptional woman!”

“I prefer sexceptional.”

“How would you characterize your relationship with HH?”

“He is my rock, I am his Circe. Or maybe his Pasiphae.”

“What does that mean?”

“Look it up.”

“You two have a good sex-life?”

“I Fuck HH when he’s up for it, flirt with others when he’s not.”

“Is that what you’re up to now? – flirting with me?”

“No, I’m fucking you.”

“What?”

“With my mind.  You know I can orgasm without even touching myself?”

“Are you cumming now?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

[Long silent pause.]

“There,” says Lo, proudly.

“You just came?”

“Yep.”

“It seemed, well, a little anticlimactic.”

“Not for me.  Want to see?”

“Yeah.”

Lo spreads her legs to reveal the wet spot soaked through the crotch of her jeans.

Wet Spot

“Wow!  Now what are you going to do about that?”

“About what?”

“Your jeans being all wet?”

“Enjoy it.”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“You mean, in addition to that?”

“Yeah.”

“OK, shoot.”

“Why are you with HH?”

“Nothing better than a nymphomaniac and a dirty old man.”

“You call yourself a hotwife, but you’re not married.  Why don’t you get married?”

“Have you ever read the letters of Eloise and Abelard?”

“I haven’t.  Who are they?”

“Look it up.  Anyhow, she was ahead of her time when she said to him, ‘I’d rather be your whore than your wife.’”

“And that’s how you feel?”

“That’s how we both feel.”

“Wow!”

“What?”

“That’s a radical take on marriage.”

“Well, I have met enough guys like you who entered into a marriage, but is it a marriage or a mirage?”

“Point taken.”

“Can I see a photo of your wife?”

“Why?”

“I like to know what my competition looks like.”

[He sends a nude photo of his wife.]

“There.  What do you think?”

“I understand why you’re a sex-addict.  She’s super sexy!!!”

“I wish she had your open mind to match her body.”

“More than my mind is open to her body.”

“Has COVID impacted you at all?”

“Yeah, a lot.  That’s why I’m here chatting with you now.  Most of my flirting and fucking has to be virtual these days.”

“What about the five guys from yesterday?  Are they in your bubble?”

“They sure were yesterday!  Far in.  You could say that I am the original super-spreader – in a good way, of course!”

“In only the best way!”

Lo Super Spreader

99 Problems: A Valentine’s Day Tale

[Dear Lovlies, this story was published in the February 2021 issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. If you would like to get your free Match, Cinder & Spark book, send us an email at: downloladown@gmail.com]

“Well, Darling, I guess it’s just you and me: Santa and his little sexy elf,” I said to her as she snuggled up to me under my arm on the couch.  She was still wearing her sleek red dress and nothing else.  We had the fire going (on the T.V. thanks to Netflix).

Lola’s Good Cheer

“It was a nice day,” she said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.

We both knew it wasn’t like Christmases past.  It was COVID Christmas.  No kissing friends and strangers under the mistletoe or unwrapping presents with a large crowd looking on to see your reaction to their gift.

We had spent the day delivering goodies to friends and family, driving all around town, making stops from noon until nine at night.  Each stop was accompanied by a little chat outside in the brisk air with a shot or two to warm us up.  It was good to see familiar faces and bring them gifts, even if we couldn’t hug, kiss, dance, or sit in their comfortable living rooms for some schnapps and grog.

We were determined to make the day as special as we could.  Now that we were home (and a little tipsy) I told her she could look under the tree to see what Santa had brought for her.

“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.

“Which gets me more gifts?” she asked as she rummaged under the tree and found the little box I had carefully hidden.

She immediately knew what it was.  She opened it extremely carefully.  The diamond ring was illuminated by a tiny light that automatically turned on when the ring box was opened.  It looked magical in the dimly lit room.  The cute case glowed with an aura of heavenly mystique.

“Oh Daddy!” she said, giving me a big kiss.  “How did you know?”

She was being very facetious since she had designed the piece of jewelry, ordered it, and tracked its delivery.  All I did was pass her my credit card and then wrap it when it arrived.

“Is there anything there for me?” I asked.

“Yes, there is.  Wait here and come into the bedroom when I call you.”

A few moments went by before her sing-song voice invited me in.

She was wearing a new red satin negligée.  “My Santa suit.  Second only to my birthday suit.”  She spread her legs to reveal that she also had shaved.

Lola’s present for Daddy

“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.

“You know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

“You’ve been hanging around me too long.  Leave the puns to dads who like dad jokes.”

“Do you like, Daddy?” she asked as she gently tugged at her pussy lips.

“Very much.”

“You’re not hard to please.  You know that?”

“Yes, but when you please me, I am hard.”

“Show me!  Let me drink your eggnog.”

“Your ring looks good on your finger,” I remarked as she stroked herself.

“Yes, now maybe you’ll make me a proper hotwife!”

“Oh no, Lo.  I can’t make a descent woman out of you.  You’ve spent a lifetime cultivating being an indecent woman.”

“True.  But you know, either way, I’m happy.  Deep, deep inside, I’m happy.  And you can be too.”

“Be happy?”

“No, deep, deep inside me.”

She stood up from the bed, bent over, and looked at her exposed rear in the full-length mirror behind her.  “It’s weird,” she said, “how horny I get looking at myself naked.”

I have to admit, she had me excited just looking at her like that.

I fumbled to remove my pants as she pouted, “Daddy, I just can’t wait.”

As swiftly as I could, I slid into her impatient peonies petals, already wet with dew.

Within moments she sensed the inevitable and spun around in order to receive her reward.

Though that may have been my climax, it is not the climax of our story.

Drunk on my cum, she looked up at me and asked, “Which part did you like the most: the first ten seconds or the last ten seconds?”

“Hey, I might have been fast, but what or who can give that much pleasure in so short a time?”

“Are you talking about my ability to give pleasure or yours?  Never mind.  I’ll show you what can give even more pleasure,” she said as she reached under the bed to take out her Hitachi.

Lo gushes for her mechanical lover

As she was on her solo journey to Pleasure Town, I pulled out my laptop and read a few emails written to our shared downloladown account.  There were a number of thank you notes from the men, women, and couples who had received our “XXX-mas” gifts – a free Match, Cinder & Spark book or audiobook.

It was nice to hear from our fans that we helped cheer them up in this otherwise dismal time.

After Lo had ‘spouted off’ in the best possible way, she sat up to look over my shoulder.  Glancing at the screen, I sensed she was a bit disappointed.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something Lo.  What is it?”

“Just the thought that put me over the edge was that you were looking at photos of me, not reading emails.”

“Well, it’s the next-best-thing.  They’re emails about you.  Besides, why would I look at photos of you on my computer when you’re lying next to me vibrating your va-jay-jay till the levee breaks?”

“Exactly!  And why would you be reading emails when you have this at your disposal?!” she said, slapping her sloppy puss for emphasis.

Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Do you think it was egomaniacal of me to give my own books as a Christmas gift?”

“I think it’s egomaniacal of you to write those books.”

“That wasn’t egomaniacal.  That was a gift to humanity.”

“Never have I seen such a self-satisfied narcissist!”

“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”

“Shut up and pass me Glindo,” she said, referring to her glass dildo that was next to me on the nightstand.

Lo and ‘Glindo’

“Why?  What are you up to now?” I asked, seeing her with her legs spread wide on the bed, dildo in hand.

“Nothing, but I’m open to doing something.”

“What are you open to doing?”

“You.”

“Now?”

“Well, after I do myself.”

“Again?”

Never one for false modesty, she implored, “Read to me some of the things people are saying about the book.”

“While you jill it?”

“Yeah, it’s a turn-on to know that I get guys hard and women wet.”

“Well, one person called you a slut and said that you do all this just for attention.”

“That is not true,” she said emphatically, “being a slut is its own reward.”

“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”

She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.

Overcome by her perspicuous paramour, Lo lunged forward with a long, lusty moan.

As she recovered from her self-inflicted squirt, I asked her, “Do you think we should do it again for Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m hoping we’ll do it long before then!”

“I mean a free book for fans.”

“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake.  “Sure.  Maybe we could ask our readers to send in their Valentine’s Day stories and send a free book to the top ten that we publish.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Photos are also welcome,” she added.  “Now do me, Daddy.  I’ve only had two orgasms tonight and you know I need at least three.”

“Lo, you really are a slut for attention!”

“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.”

Be My Valentine

Abstract

I was sitting up in bed, my glasses on, reading silently.

Abstract painting

She was next to me, naked, legs spread, knees up in the air.  Her position reminded me of a frog stuck on its back, its vulnerable underbelly exposed.  Not a flattering juxtaposition, but that’s what went through my mind as I looked at her, caressing her spread, dewy pussy with her right hand, her left squeezing her left breast and then her right.  She was clearly trying to give herself the love and attention she wasn’t receiving from me.  Filling her pussy with her three fingers, pinching and pulling her nipples, rubbing her hand over her tum, licking her fingers.  Moaning.

“Don’t you ever tire of reading?” she finally asked, pouting.

“Don’t you ever tire of fucking yourself silly?” I retorted.

“Say what you will, I am a damn good fuck.  Better than most.”

“Present company excluded,” I added.

“I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”

She was trying to get my ire up, or something up.

“What are you reading, anyhow?” she asked out of frustration.

“An abstract.”

“What?”

“An abstract.”

“Is that the title of the book?”

“No, but that would make a good title,” I said, pulling out my little notebook and writing the thought down.

nude

“Oh no, now you’re reading and writing!”

“An abstract is a summary of the contents of a book, a paper, a dissertation.”

“Then why don’t they call it a summary?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t make the rules.”

“Well, is that abstract so good that you wouldn’t have the full-color, complete package, right here in-the-flesh?”

“Darling. . .”

“You prefer the abstract over the real?”

“I. . .”

“Philosophers should come with a warning label!”

“And what, prey tell, would that warning be?”

“WARNING: Prefers to contemplate own navel over contemplating your anus!”

“You want me to contemplate your anus?”

Lo minimalism

“No, never mind.  I can do it myself,” she said, putting her knees behind her head and curving her torso forward while simultaneously grabbing her butt cheeks with her hands and pushing her ass toward her face.

“Nice parlor trick,” I said.  “You’ve been doing yoga while I’m at work?”

“No, I’ve been contemplating my anus.”

“And what have you discovered with all that contemplation?”

“That it is eminently fuckable and sublimely beautiful.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“May I fuck it?”

“Do you want it for real, or merely abstractly?”

“You know, there’s a branch of mathematics that is strictly theoretical.”

“Is there?”

“Yes.”

“So, what’s that have to do with my ass?”

Contemplation of the Anus

“I’m merely pointing out that even something as grounded and concrete as math can exist on a fictional plane.  People think that there is nothing more basic than one-plus-one equals two, that these numbers are based in empirical facts like stones or sticks.  But even the number one and the number two are abstractions.”

“I’m interested in making one and one equal one.”

It took me a while to understand her mathematical metaphor.

She was still twisted in her pretzel shape.

“Can you lick it?” I asked.

“I’m working on it since at this rate, it’s the only cunnilingus I’m going to get.”

“You remind me of the ouroboros now.”

“What is that?”

“It is the image of a snake eating its own tail.  It became the symbol for infinity because it never ends.”

“Appropriately symbolic, for you never stop talking and start fucking.”

“And your desire is infinite.”

“Everyone’s desire is infinite.”

“I’m afraid you are generalizing from the specific.  Quite the no-no in logic.”

“Do you want my ass, or don’t you?” she asked impatiently.

“If you’re offering it, then sure I do!”

She released from the yoganidrasana pose.  “Well, you’ll have to use your imagination because that’s something you’re only going to experience on a fictional plane.”

“But. . .”

“Imagine it vividly and then you can write all about it.”

“But Lo, you know that I’m not a fiction writer.  Our readers expect accounts of my sex life with Lola!”

“What sex life?  It’s more like Lola’s sex life with Lola as H.H. exists on the astral plane.”

“Have you ever had sex in the astral plane?”

“No, I’ve had cocks in my ass and it felt divine.  And I’ve had sex on a plane (with myself).  Maybe one day I’ll have anal sex on a plane and be transported to that heavenly realm again.”

“The astral plane?”

“No, the anal orgasm.”

“I’ll take you there.”

“To hell you will.  I want you in my cunt.”

“Why won’t you give me your ass?”

“Because you simply don’t deserve it.  Make me cum in my cunt and then we’ll see if you graduate to the advanced class.  If you can get it up for one, you can get it up for the other.”

“Isn’t it more like, if you can get it up for two?”

“You know what I mean.  Do you want to spend our time in bed discussing nomenclature and numbers, or do you want to ram your cock hard in my cunt?”

“You wax poetic when you’re horny, you know that?”

She was done with language and she reached down to grab my member.  I was very hard by this point.

“Looks like you are ready to give me what I want.  I know how to excite you.”

“Your intellectual conversation of theoretical planes of existence was a real turn-on.”

“I bet it was, now get behind me and show me how deeply you love me.”

She rolled onto her tum and put her ass in the air.   I mounted her from behind and pulled her hair.  She instantly gushed like an overripe fruit, sensitive to the touch.

“Yeah, Daddio, that’s it.”

I delved deep inside her.  I could feel the tip of my rod touching the target, tantalizing and teasing that tender tuft of nerves that turns on the tap, unleashing a torrent.

Within mere seconds, she was flooding the bed with her happiness.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she repeated again and again, grasping the sheets and holding on for dear life.

I don’t mean to give myself much credit for any special sexual talent.  It really wasn’t very difficult.  She was primed and ready before I even penetrated her.  The time it took to bring her to climax was approximately half the time of our conversation about it.

When she had recovered her senses, she looked over at me and smiled.

I picked up my book again and said, “I’m glad I could please you darling.  Had I known it would only be a matter of a moment, I wouldn’t have protested so much.”

She simply said, “It was the talk about abstractions that turned me on.  You know I’m a sapiosexual.”

“Indeed,” I replied.

“What’s the abstract about, anyhow?”

“Abstract art.”

“Of course it is.”

The End

Rear Windows

“Where are you going?” I asked.

She was dressed up in a blue dress and strappy wedges, looking like she was someone’s blue belle.

Blue Belle Lo

“I’m going to meet Meri.”

“Where this time?”

“Oh, her house,” she let fall from her lips as if that were no big deal.

“Her house?!” I asked, concerned.  “In COVID Times?”

“Don’t worry, silly.  We’ll be at a safe social distance from one another.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“When I’m older you’ll have to tell it to the funeral director.”

“Love you!” she said as she blew me a kiss and walked on out the door, hopped in her car and drove away with a little beep-beep.

I hadn’t expected to spend that Sunday alone.  It was beautiful out.  The sky was as blue as Lo’s dress and the sun as bright as her disposition.  The air was warm, but not oppressive, as it had been most of July.

Without plans or partner, I ventured to the local park with my folding chair, thermos full of G&T and ice, and the novel I had been reading, My Mother by George Bataille.

Simultaneously, as I was sitting in the park, reading, watching the youthful frolics of the people around me, reminiscing of my Lola in the park with Meri a couple of weeks prior, and comparing the scantily clad flirts around me with my slut, Lola (there is no comparison, really), Lo was off in the burbs engaged in the following activities.

She arrived at Meri’s picture perfect suburban home around eleven.  It was in one of the wealthy bedroom communities around our city, about a half-hour away from us.  She pulled up along the curb in the cul-de-sac and texted Meri, “I’m here.”

From the car, she observed the blue hydrangeas, the yellow black-eyed Susans, and the rose bushes.  She wondered, Did Meri tend those?  Hired help, probably.

Due to COVID, there was no going in the house, except for use of the bathroom.  Lo put on her mask when she saw Meri come outside.  Lo got out of the car and had that awkward moment when, during normal times, there would have been a hug and maybe a little kiss hello, but not now.  Not during COVID.  They just smiled, delighted to see each other.

Meri said, “I love your dress.  And those shoes!”

“Aw, shucks,” said Lo with faux modesty.

“And what do you have on under that dress?” asked an eager Meri.

“We’re tanning in your backyard, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve got on a bikini.”

“Perfect,” said Meri, smiling a devilish grin that looked even more authentic given her red hair.  “I’d give you a tour of the house, but. . .”  She didn’t have to say anymore.

She led Lo around the side of the house, through a little gate, to the backyard.

“Is anyone home?” asked Lo.

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yep.  Scott and all three boys.”

“Oh,” said Lo, “I thought it was going to be just us.”

Meri didn’t answer.  She simply extended her hand to the lounge chairs in the backyard, separated by many feet from each other, and behind them, the blue inground pool.  “How’s this?” she asked.

“It’s lovely!”

“Come on in and get comfortable.  Can I make you a drink?”

“What do you have?”

“Anything you want.”

Lo looked at Meri and said, “Something wet that will make my head spin.”
“Coming up!”

Lo removed her shoes and walked around barefoot in the backyard.  She looked at all the flowers in bloom, the lush green grass, the tall trees in the distance, and then back at the house.  Soon she saw Meri emerge from the sliding doors in the center of the house that led into the kitchen.  She was carrying two tall drinks.  When she had gone in the house, Meri was wearing jeans and a blouse.  But now she was wearing only a tiny thong bikini bottom and a just as skimpy, matching solid yellow bikini top.

Bikini Babe Lo

“Here you go, Lo,” she said, passing her a glass filled with pink bubbly liquid and a red striped straw in it.

“Thanks,” said Lo, sipping and staring at Meri.

“Don’t you want to change?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Lo pulled her dress up over her head, revealing a more modest bikini than Meri was wearing and than Lo had worn the previous time they met in the park.

“If you feel like going for a swim, help yourself.  You can even skinny dip if you want.  None of the neighbors can see.  Not that that matters to you,” she added, referring to Lo’s exhibitionism in the public park.

“What about. . . ?”  Lo nodded in the direction of the house, indicating Meri’s family.

“Oh, them?”  She shrugged her shoulders.  “They’ve seen you naked already.”

“What?!”

“I told you.  Remember?”

“You said that you found me through your husband looking at the blog and that your son also discovered it, but you didn’t say everyone had.”

“Well, I don’t know that for sure,” said Meri, “but it wouldn’t surprise me.  It’s a house full of testosterone.  It is unbearable for me sometimes.  It’s nice to have another woman here for once.  You’re my first guest since COVID.”

They were lying down now and Lo couldn’t help suspecting that she was being watched by four pairs of eyes in the house.

“Is your husband going to come out and say hello?”

“Probably not,” said Meri.  “He’s shy.  He knows that you know and he’s embarrassed.”

“Do you think he’s watching?”

“I hope so.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.  He’s been doting on me ever since he found out that I’ve been corresponding with you.  It makes him so horny.  Sometimes we put your photos on the computer so we can both see it and he goes at me from behind.  I’ve told him about how I’d love to have a strap-on to fuck you the way he fucks me.  That makes him give it to me even harder.  We’ve also been listening to your audiobooks.  Sometimes we pick a destination an hour or so away, just to get in the car and listen.  Then we pull over in the woods somewhere and I give him a blowjob while he listens to Jupiter Grant narrating those sexy stories about you.  Maybe one day she’ll be narrating about me!”

Lo was blushing.  She was not used to her life on the down low being out in the open, commented on, and even being pandered to in order to make it into the narrative.

Their lounge chairs were facing the pool, that is, away from the house, but, as they continued to talk, swapping stories and fantasies, the sun had repositioned almost behind them.  Lo stood up and said she was hot.  She was going to take a dip, if that was ok.

“Sure, it’s fine.  I’ll refresh the glasses,” said Meri, walking in the house.  Lo watched her strut inside and she liked looking at Meri’s sweet ass move in that thong.  She thought about how Meri was almost twice her age, had three sons, and still had an incredibly seductive saunter.  MILF Meri, she thought.

The thought of the three sons was gnawing at her conscience, however.  The oldest had to be almost Lo’s age.  The youngest. . . how old was he?  He must be at least eighteen, right?  I mean, Meri didn’t seem to have a problem with his reading the blog.

Lo walked out onto the diving board and dove into the pool.  The chilly water was refreshing and helped her clear her mind of all the dirty thoughts that were swirling in it.

When Lo saw Meri returning with the drinks, she got out of the pool and the two of them turned their chairs to be facing the sun.  Facing the house as well.

“I think I’ll take a dip too,” said Meri.

Lo was sorry that her chair was now facing the opposite direction from the pool because she couldn’t watch Meri without being obvious about it.  She didn’t want to gawk.

She sat and sipped her drink and looked at the vacant windows of the house in front of her, wondering behind which of them were her secret admirers.

When Meri returned to the chair, Lo was taken aback because, when Lo wasn’t looking, Meri had stripped out of the little that she was wearing.

Meri picked up a towel to dry off and then put it down on the chair under her and laid down on top of it, naked.  Lo liked what she saw.  It was clear that Meri usually tans nude.

Lo was about to say something when, from within the house bellowed a loud “Maaaahhh!”

Meri looked at the house.  Again, louder, “MAAAAAHHH!”

“Hang on a sec,” said Meri, walking quickly into the house.  Lo watched keenly as Meri’s naked ass jiggled in front of her.

Soon Meri came outside again, still naked, her large and slightly sagging breasts flopping without any constraints on them as she walked.

“Everything ok?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” said Meri.  “It was just my son.”

“What did he want?”

“To be a pain in the ass.”

“Really?”

“He craves attention.  He was upset because I had put a parental control on the computer and on his phone.  He demanded that I unlock it.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

She was about to add something else when again was heard, “MAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!” even louder than before.  The sound, which reminded Lo of a foghorn, bellowed from inside the house.

Meri raised her index finger to say just a minute as she danced her way inside again.

This time she took a while.  Lo was left wondering at her absence.

When Meri finally returned, she didn’t look happy.

“What’s up?”

“He’s so spoiled.  It’s my fault.  I spoiled him.”

“Why?  What’s going on?”

“Never mind,” said Meri, taking a long sip of her drink.  “You don’t have kids, do you?”

Lo laughed, “No.  I don’t plan on it.”

“Grrrrr,” grumbled Meri, “I’m sorry.  They treat me like a house servant here.  It’s always, ‘Mom do this.  Mom, I need that.  Mom, take me here.  Mom, I want. . .’  Since COVID, it’s been even worse.  All three boys here twenty-four/seven.  Absolutely no privacy.  Scott works from home.  The kids are always home.  I’m used to everyone being out of the house for at least eight hours a day.  It’s bad enough that I’ve lost that me-time, but they are up to all hours at night.  I have to do something to take my mind off this.  Will you help me out?”

“Sure.  What can I do?”

“Will you turn towards me?”

“OK,” said Lo as she turned her chair toward Meri.

“Will you show me your pussy like you did in the park?”

“Ummm,” Lo was feeling uncertain.  “Where are your sons and your husband?”

“There, there, there, and there,” said Meri, pointing at the three bedroom windows on the second floor and the dining room window on the first floor.

“Are they watching us.”

“I don’t know.  Scott was on a phone call when I went in.”

“And the others?”

Meri shrugged her shoulders like it didn’t matter.

Very self-consciously, Lo slid her right hand under her bikini bottom.  She raised her leg that was closest to the house in an attempt to conceal what she was doing from the voyeurs within.  With her left hand she pulled the thin fabric to the side so Meri had an unobstructed view of what Lo was doing.

Meri moved her right hand down between her legs and parted her pursed lips with her fingers.  Slowly she moved her finger inside, stroking back and forth as she watched Lo digitally diddle her clit.

Lo was too aware of the eyes that might be watching to cum, but it didn’t take Meri long to climax quietly in the peaceful suburban sanctuary.

“Feeling better?” asked Lo when she saw the rush of blood to Meri’s chest begin to subside.

Meri just laughed quietly to herself and licked her fingertips.  “Thanks Lo,” she said.

Lo mustered up the courage to ask the question that was distracting her the whole time.  “You don’t have a problem with the kids. . . uh, seeing you?”

“Like I said,” began Meri nonchalantly, “there is no privacy around here.  I’ve given up on trying to hide it.  And so have they.  We just accept ourselves as we are and accept our sexuality.  We’re all sexual beings, Lo.  You should know that more than anyone.”

Lo was not at all clear as to what Meri meant by “accepting” things, the way Meri spoke about it.  Also, thought Lo, this house is huge.  How could you not have privacy?  But she didn’t ask questions.  She just listened.

“When I went inside, he wanted my help again.  He says he likes it better when I do it for him.  Spoiled brat.  You’d think he could do something for himself at that age!  But, it’s ok,” she added in a gentler tone, “He’s just a momma’s boy and I know that one day that will come to an end.  My husband calls him ‘Prince Hamlet,’ because his life is so easy, yet he is always seeing the sinister in everything.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have come over,” said Lo, voicing her misgivings.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Lo,” said Meri, spreading her legs further on the lounge chair.

“But I think I’m just complicating everything.”  Lo’s head was spinning.  The drink, the sun, the sexual stimulation, the hidden intrigue, all culminated in a dizzy spell.

“He might be a little jealous, but I haven’t had a guest in four or five months!”

Lo didn’t know whom Meri was talking about, one of her sons or her husband.  Images of men’s faceless faces flashed in her mind.

“Can I, er, use your bathroom?” asked Lo.  She felt like she had to get out of the sun, out of the spotlight.

“Sure.  Straight in those doors and to the left,” said Meri, pointing.

Lo picked up her mask and put it on as she timorously walked toward the imposing house.

She slid the sliding screen door open and walked into a large, open-plan kitchen/dining room.

A large, rotund man was sitting at the dining room table looking into a laptop computer.  He wore cargo shorts and a short-sleeve button-down blue shirt, untucked.  He looked over at Lo when she entered the room.  Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the relatively dim light inside.

“Oh, you must be Lola,” said the man in an authoritative, booming voice.

“Yes.  And you’re Scott?”

“My wife is crazy about you,” he said, making Lola feel awkward.

“The bathroom?” asked Lo, timidly.

“Right there,” said Scott, pointing to a door at the end of the kitchen.  “Did you really do all those things H.H. wrote about you?”

“I’m here now, ain’t I?” was all Lo responded, before walking to the bathroom.

When she came out of the bathroom, back into the kitchen, behind the ‘L’ shaped kitchen counter, far at the other end of the room, by the dining room, was a young man, staring unflinchingly at Lola.

Lo walked towards him.  She had to if she were to exit the kitchen.

“Hi,” she said nervously.

He was shirtless.  No answer.

“You must be. . .” began Lo, realizing she had no idea the names of Meri’s sons.

“You’re even better looking in person,” he said, mesmerized.

Lo looked around the room for Scott.  He was nowhere to be found.  It was just this kid and Lo, staring each other down like the Sheriff and the Outlaw in some western.  But who was who?

“What do you mean?” asked Lo, knowing very well what he meant.

“You like my mom?”

“She’s very nice,” said Lo, flustered.

“Are you going to fuck her?”

“You should watch your mouth!” replied Lo.  He had the face of a cherub, but that just made it all seem more inappropriate.

“You’re one to talk,” he said in a joking manner that Lo found a little endearing.  “Can I see you without your mask on?”

Lo briefly pulled down her mask under her chin.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, seemingly unaware of the words escaping from his lips.

“Shucks, thanks.”

“So, are you and my mom going to. . . ?”

Lo walked toward the boy, her mask back on now.  “You have needs.  Your dad has needs.  Well, your mom has needs too,” she said, gently.  “You might not be aware of her needs because she’s always taking care of you and your brothers and your dad.  Her needs might not be as obvious.  But they are just as real and just as. . . pressing.”

The boy looked blankly back at Lo.  Then he said, “You don’t know my mom very well, do you?”

“Well enough.”

“Her needs come before everybody else’s,” he said.  Lo thought she detected a hint of word play when he said “come.”  Maybe it was just in her perverted imagination.

“From what I hear, she takes good care of you,” replied Lo.

The boy acknowledged the truth of that statement wordlessly, looking a little ashamed and blushing.  He added, “But we’re all clear that she has needs.”

Lo walked past him and out the door.  When she got into the backyard, she saw Scott talking to his naked wife.  The sight overwhelmed her for a moment.  When Scott was sitting inside, she had noticed his rather hefty size, but now he was standing over Meri and he seemed like a giant in comparison to her.  He was enormous, both in height and girth.  He was easily 300 pounds.

Scott & Meri

The two of them saw Lo as she reentered the backyard and they stopped whatever conversation they were having to smile at her as she returned to her lounge chair.

“I just met your son,” said Lo.

“Oh, which one?” asked Meri.

But before Lo could say she didn’t know, Scott chimed in with, “I hope he was polite to you.  You know, these boys – three of them – it’s like, I mean sometimes I feel like the animal trainer at a circus.  That’s the best we can expect of them at that age!”

“Oh no he was. . .” began Lo before being cut off yet again by Meri.

“Scott, will you go and back me up about the parental controls on the computer?”

“Enjoy the sunshine,” said Scott as he dutifully walked back into the house.

Lo settled into the chair and tried to see in the dark doorway to the kitchen to ascertain if any eyes were looking back at her.  She could make out nothing.  The brilliant sun outside made the door to the house appear as a rectangular void.

“He’s not wrong,” said Meri.  “Living with three teenage boys, well, it is like being a zoo keeper – constantly cleaning out their cages, feeding them, and trying to keep them in line.  It’s exhausting.  I can’t wait until this damn COVID thing is over and we can send them all to college.  I never thought I’d say that, but it’s true!  I was just getting used to having two of the three out of the house when this plague struck.”

“I can’t even imagine,” said Lo.  Then, pensively, Lo asked, “Has it always been like this?”

“Like what?”

“I mean, have you always been so, er, nonchalant around them?” asked Lo, referring to Meri’s non-concern for her nudity.

“I’ve never been ashamed of anything,” she said.  “But this COVID quarantine put all of us in closer quarters.  And, I have to admit, in the past year or so, my sex-drive has shot way way up.  Like through the roof.  I don’t know if it’s the onset of menopause or what, but I can’t seem to get enough.  And with the three boys always around and, well, frankly, Scott. . .”  She trailed off and then added, “I eventually gave up on the idea of me-time.  Sex and sexuality are completely natural.  We’re all sexual beings.  We all have needs and desires.  Believe me, I’ve had to clean up enough cum-covered sheets from these three boys to know that they’re not exempt.  So, why hide it?  Why pretend like it’s not real, for me, for you, for them,” she said, nodding at the house.  “Yeah, I’ve known for a long time that Scott looks at porn and that late at night, after I’ve gone to bed, he jacks off in his home office.  Frankly, he doesn’t try to hide it.  Or, if he does, he doesn’t do a very good job of it.  For many years, before my libido kicked into high-gear, I just didn’t care.  I mean, at least he wasn’t bugging me at midnight, so I got my sleep.  I didn’t like the lying or the deceit, but I put up with it.  It was a minor transgression.  As long as he wasn’t having an affair.  And I checked his computer and phone enough to know that that wasn’t happening.”  She paused to take a long sip of her drink.  “The boys?  I’ve known that they are self-pleasuring ever since the oldest hit puberty.  Fine by me.  I’d be a hypocrite if I said it was wrong.  I just ask that they use tissues rather than give me more laundry to do.  I also don’t want them watching all that extreme, violent, misogynistic, hyper-objectifying, crazy porn out there.  Women being choked, abused, spat on, peed on.  Women fisting other women anally all the way up to their elbows.  Women having their anus used as a cereal bowl.  Have you seen the porn out there?”

Lo was praying that the question was rhetorical.  But, in asking the question, Meri was, perhaps inadvertently or intentionally, giving away what she had seen somewhere.

After only a slight pause, during which Lo was silent and merely blinked, Meri continued, “It’s horrible.  Women being fucked by dogs, horses, drinking pee, you name it!  I mean really!  I don’t want my kids being raised on that.”

Lo was blushing by now.  She hoped Meri would think it was just the combination of the alcohol and the sun.  She couldn’t tell what Meri had seen of the blog.  Had she seen the more risqué posts?  Was she referring to those?  Did she want Lo to open up about all her naughty kinks, her taboo fantasies, her hidden shame?

“I don’t care if they get off on a naked woman’s body,” she said while applying more sunscreen to her breasts, “or lesbians, or even a blowjob scene.  Whatever.  But the internet is worse than drugs.  It will fuck with your head for years to come if you’re not careful.  So, as long as they’re under my roof, I insist on access to their search history and their phones.”

“And they agree to that?”

Meri was now applying the sunblock to her legs.  “Well, they used to, before college.  The older ones, I mean.  Now it’s a struggle.  ‘But Mom,’” she mocked, “‘I have a right to privacy.’  And I have a right to know what’s on the phone that I pay for and on the computer that I bought, and what you’re downloading from the internet that is in my name.”

Lo suddenly realized that Meri was drunk.  She was ranting.

“Does Scott know that you track his porn activities too?” asked Lo.

“Scott?” Meri asked with a laugh.  “Ha!  No.  Either he is completely oblivious to the fact that I can see everything in his search history, or he wants me to know.  Either way, it’s fine.  But, as you know, it’s not fine when the kids discover what he’s been looking at (or when they discover what I’ve been getting off to).  When my libido was resurrected, it actually was helpful.  If I saw that he jacked off the previous night to a woman fingering her ass, well, I knew what to do to get him turned on.  If I saw that he got off to photos of a woman’s feet, well, the next night I was feet-forward.  When I found out that Scott was reading your blog,” she continued, “I was actually relieved.  I mean, yeah, you’re half his age and only a little older than our oldest son, but you’re real.  You’re not some desperate young floozy from god-knows-where who has been coerced into making porn.  You’re not strung out on drugs and putting yourself out there on the internet for your next fix.  You’re in it because you want to be.  And it’s clear that HH loves you, worships you.  It’s a healthy, if unconventional, relationship.  It’s refreshing.  And if my son wants to read about it,” she laughed to herself, “ha! at least he’s reading!!!  Right?  I mean, it’s good writing.  It’s both intellectually and sexually stimulating.  If porn is junk food, then it’s a granola bar.  Sure, it’s got a few chocolate chips thrown in, but it’s not bad for you!”  She laughed again.

Lo laughed with her, though she was feeling uneasy being talked about in this way.

“Do you think that Scott is reading about me because he has a thing for a hotwife?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe he secretly wants to see you fucked by another man.”

“If only!” blurted out Meri, loudly.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“No.”

“But surely you talked to him about me.  I mean, he was reading the blog.  You discovered that he was reading the blog.  You got into the blog.  Your son, or sons, got into the blog.  And now suddenly, here I am, in the flesh!  How did you explain that to him?”

It gradually dawned on Meri that Lo didn’t know the whole story.

“I told Scott that when I was checking our son’s browsing history, I came across your blog.”

“Oh.”

“He played dumb, like he had never heard of it or you before.  That night, before bed, I said to him, ‘Do you want to see what sort of smut our son has been looking at?’  He said ‘Sure’ as if he had no real interest in it.  I pulled up your blog on our laptop and we scrolled through it together.”

“No!” said Lo, incredulously.  (One of her greatest satisfactions is knowing that couples read the blog together.  Meri probably knew that already.)

“Yes, we did.  And I could see him getting aroused.  I said to him, ‘You like that?  You like that young slut?  That little nympho?  Do you wish you were with a cum-hungry cock-whore like her?’  He got all flustered.  He didn’t know what to say or what to make of me as my hand reached under the covers for his hard dick.  I stroked him off as he scrolled through your blog.  Then I gave him a blowjob.  And then I got on all fours and you won’t believe what he did.”

“What?!”  Lo was very interested.

“He put the computer on my back and fucked me from behind while looking at your photos.  He came like he hadn’t cum in twenty years!”

“Na-ah,” said Lo, incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“How’d that make you feel?”

“I was fine with it.  You and I had already had our date last year and so I was envisioning you in my mind as he fucked me.  I knew that I had one up on him.  Also, I was just glad to be fucked from behind.  You’ve seen Scott.  He’s huge.  Usually, when he fucks me, it’s missionary position.  I can hardly breathe.  He’s so big and heavy.  And, worst of all, he has a tiny cock.”

“No!”

“Yes.  He has to be really right up against me to get it in me at all.  I literally cannot remember the last time I climaxed with him.  I mean, I cum, but it’s always due to self-manipulation.”

Lo glanced down at Meri’s mons pubis and saw that there was a sparkle of light glimmering from her pussy because she was dripping wet again.

“How did you explain today to him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how did you explain that you and I know each other and that I was coming over?”

“Oh,” said Meri as if it was no big deal to pull the wool over Scott’s eyes, “I told him a week ago or so that I wrote to you and it turns out you live close by.  I told him we had carried on an email correspondence and that we finally met up for coffee.”

“What was his reaction?”

“He was surprised, but he clearly tried to play down his excitement at the prospect of meeting you.  I’ll bet you anything that when you went inside and saw him at his computer, he was reading your blog, not doing work.”

“Does he know that you and I. . . that we. . . that you have bi tendencies?”

“Oh yeah.  I mean, he knows that I’m interested in women, or at least that I was in college.  You wouldn’t know it now, seeing me as a middle-aged housewife and mom in the suburbs, but in high school and college, I lived up to the reputation redheads have for being wild and crazy.”

“I can believe it.  So, he’s ok with that?”

“Well, he doesn’t know that we’ve fooled around, but yeah.  What hetero guy isn’t ok with that?”

“I’ve known a few,” said Lo, reminiscing about some past relationships.

“Anyhow, he can’t believe you’re here.”

Author’s Aside: This whole account reminded me of a wonderful Italian movie I saw years and years ago called The Icicle Thief in which a beautiful, buxom, blonde model from a color TV commercial intrudes upon the black-and-white realism film depicting an impoverished family.  The notion of Lola the nympho, hotwife, sex-blog star walking into the quiet, suburban family life of Scott and Meri was superimposed in my mind over the Italian film.

“Does he have any expectations?” asked Lo.

“What do you mean?”

“Is he hoping to sleep with me?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” said Meri.  She paused to think for a moment, gazing off at the house.  “I’m sure he wants to, but knows that he can’t without my go-ahead.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Do you want to sleep with him?” asked Meri, incredulously.

“I’m just trying to gauge expectations.”

“Hmmmmm,” sounded Meri as she pensively looked off, picturing the scene in her mind’s eye.  “I guess I don’t really care.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  I mean, he’s tiny.  I told you that.  And he cums in like five minutes, tops.  Would you really do it?”

“I’m not opposed,” said Lo.  “But I don’t want to create any problems.  You two should probably talk it over and make sure you’re both 100% on board.”

“I’ll let you know,” said Meri.  “He’s only slept with like three or four women, including me.”

“Poor guy.  And you?”

“How many people have I slept with?”

“Yeah.”

“Too many to count!” said Meri with a laugh.  “But no one new since getting married.”

“Oh, then do I have the boys for you!” said Lo.

“What?”

Lo went on to tell Meri about the brothers from across the street.  Meri was simultaneously intrigued and repulsed by her own excitement.  “They’re like the same age as my own boys,” she remarked.

Together, Lo and Meri discussed the myriad possibilities for the COVID quarantine cuckolding adventures.

Eventually, Lo and Meri bid each other farewell as Meri went to prepare dinner for her hungry family and Lo came home to me to get her fill of my love while she recalled to me the events with which I have just regaled you.

Sound

[This story, in case you don’t pick up on it, is dedicated to the incomparable, Jupiter Grant. You can find her work here, here, here, here, and here.]

“In physics, sound is a vibration that propagates as an acoustic wave, through a transmission medium such as a gas, liquid or solid. In human physiology and psychology, sound is the reception of such waves and their perception by the brain.”

Lola’s Tum

 

It had been a wet month.  The typical English spring attempted to outdo itself with unrelenting grey skies, showers, and sopping English gardens.  Jupiter Grant, or Jupi, as she likes to be called by her friends, had not gone out for weeks.  Her groceries had been delivered and her supply of wine was dwindling.  It had been months since she had seen her ersatz lover, H.  She referred to him only as H and thought of him as “ersatz” because he was a Husband to another woman and had a family in London.  Jupi was the proverbial “other woman,” the “mistress,” the “seductress.”  At least that’s the way the judging world would see her.  The judging world being the monogamous, heteronormative world.  Between Jupi, H, and H’s wife, there was an open understanding.  Still, that cozy relationship was of no use during the long COVID lockdown.

From Jupi’s point of view, she was the guest always late to the party.  She and H had chemistry that they both acknowledged.  Not just sexual, but spiritual.  They knew they were meant to be together, but their paths had crossed many years too late in life.  As a compromise to life’s cruel humor, they connected when and how they could; neither one demanding more of the other or disappointed by the other since they both knew that this was the best arrangement for all parties involved.  Yet Jupi was not late to the poly-party.  Thank goodness, she thought, that she lived in and was a part of the polyamory zeitgeist.

A Happy Fan

Yet the knowledge that they were two lost souls doing what they could to find joy in a largely painful and sad world provided little relief for Jupi when her deepest needs swelled up to fill her entire being with desire – desire to be held, touched, caressed, kissed, fondled, spanked, sucked, filled, and fucked.  At those moments, a quick fap merely whet her ferocious appetite.  She needed more.  She craved the comfort of H’s strong, firm flesh pressing down on her own soft, welcoming, warm body.

Unrelieved in her needs, she turned to compensatory pleasures and perversions.  Much of her sexual energy, she found over the years, could be diverted into creative power.  Writing erotica was her main outlet.  But lately she discovered a new medium into which she channeled her plentiful reserves of poetic and prurient lust and her craving to perform: her voice.  Through a series of happy coincidences, she discovered that not only could she narrate literotica, she could nail it with every ounce of sexy she felt swirling through her sensual spirit and her beautiful body.

Volume I

A manuscript had arrived: Match, Cinder & Spark: Nymphomania and the Single Girl.  “Hmmmm,” she thought, “this could be interesting.  Or, it could be a colossal waste of time.  Thousands of words, hundreds of pages of driveling, second-rate, even third-rate pablum ‘poetry’ for pubescent boys.”  She poured a glass of red wine and opened up the document on her computer.  She began reading:

 

“Tell me,” she said, “tell me what I am.”

“You’re a slut.”

“Yes,” she said, encouragingly.

“A whore.  A fucking sexmaniac.”

“Go on,” she moaned, biting her lower lip.  But I was too occupied with banging her from behind.  I needed to catch my breath.

“Tell me,” she demanded, “tell me what I am.”

“A cum-bucket.  A little cum-hungry tramp.”

“Yes,” she screamed.

“A sex addict.  A nymphomaniac!”

I slapped her ass hard as she screamed with delight.  Her wet little snatch secreted her luscious, warm juices all over my hard cock.

After she collapsed into the bed of blankets, I reached around her from behind and whispered in her ear, “Good girl.  That’s my good girl.”  She purred like a little kitten.

 

Artistic Tribute Photo

She felt a tingling between her legs.  She kept reading, taking small sips of wine as she felt her mouth watering.  As she continued, she felt something else getting wet.  She tried reading the words aloud, just to hear how they would sound in her voice.  Could she do the male lines?  It was narrated by Lola Down’s lover, H.H.  Was she the right voice for that?  Wouldn’t a man’s voice be more appropriate?  She tried it out, experimenting with various octaves and tones.  Clearly these two characters were American.  Should I pronounce “ass” the American way, or as I would pronounce it – “arse”?  Technical questions like these kept appearing, but she liked what she read.  She liked it a lot.  To her surprise, she especially enjoyed embodying the male narrator’s role.  Yes, she thought, yes, I’ll take this on.

A week later she was in her tiny makeshift “recording studio” – actually a closet with a light, a microphone, and her computer.  It was the most soundproof room of her flat.  She was in the middle of recording a story, “NYC,” about Lo and her raconteur’s trip to a strip club in Manhattan:

 

She slowly eased her way down Lo’s body, pressing her perky breasts and nipples directly in Lo’s face.  She took Lo’s hands and encouraged Lo to apply them to her body, caressing the dancer’s ass and legs.  As she slithered over Lo, she inconspicuously pulled Lo’s strapless dress down over Lo’s breasts, exposing them so that they could rub up against her own.  She then got down between Lo’s legs and gracefully pulled the hem of Lo’s dress up and up, rubbing her soft hands over Lo’s thighs and then sitting on Lo’s lap and rubbing her ass deep into Lo’s crotch.  All the while, Lo licked her lips and ran her tongue over her teeth in that sumptuous way that indicates that Lo is hungry.

 

 

Jupi found herself breathless.  She couldn’t continue with the narration.  There in the narrow confines of the darkened closet, she reached down under her skirt and panties and her fingers fondled the fount of her effulgent creativity.  She read the lines again and again in her mind and switched roles in her mind from being Lo to being the stripper to being H.H. observing it all.  The dance of subjectivity stimulated her mind as much as her digits released her pent-up puissance by penetrating her pulsating pink pussy.

Browsing the Literotica section

Wave after wave of relief and gratitude poured over her as her legs gave out and she slowly crumpled onto the now wet wooden floor of the closet, panting and heaving.  She opened the door to let in more air.  She desperately needed more air.

Eventually, she was able to finish recording the story.  She liked it so much that she wanted to share it, prematurely, with someone.  No, not with someone.  Not with anyone.  With H.  She needed to know his opinion of it.  Was it any good?  Was she any good as a narrator?  But there were so many doubts that accompanied her wish.  What if he didn’t like it?  What if he thought she was weird for even producing it?  What if he was turned on by Lola?

Ultimately her desire for validation and attention outweighed her insecurities and she hit “SEND” and immediately wished she could unsend it.

An excruciating day, then two days, then three days went by without a word from H.  She couldn’t record another page before hearing back from him.  She was in a frenzied state.  Why hadn’t he called, texted, emailed, something???

But, just when she thought she couldn’t take it any longer, there was an unexpected knock at her door.

A visitor?  No.  Couldn’t be.  Probably just a grocery delivery.  She hastily put on her robe and furtively opened the door.  There he was.  H.  Unannounced.  Unexpected.  Un-fuckig-believable!  She was ecstatic.  Jupi threw the door open wide and let him in.  But then she remembered the recording.  Was he here to break things off?

“Hi,” she said shyly, her nerves shot.

“Hi.”

“I wish I knew you were coming.  I would have. . .”

“I didn’t even know I was coming.  But I’ve been. . . I’ve wanted to. . . I just started driving and I found myself here.  I’ve been listening to your recording on repeat.”

“And?”

“Your voice is so fucking sexy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.  I’ve been hard-up for days.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to.  But I wanted to see you and tell you.”

“Way to drive a woman crazy!”

“Who wrote this?  Who is this Lola?”

Suddenly Jupi felt nervous again.  She felt butterflies in her stomach.  “What if?” questions started forming in her mind like they did before.  Incessant, annoying, pervasive questions filled with self-doubt and fear.  Her anxiety ramping up again.  She needed to get grounded.

“Come on in,” she said, taking his coat.  “Want a drink?”

She took out the wine and two glasses.  She let her robe drop, revealing her bare body just beneath the sheer negligée she was wearing under the robe.  It was sexy, but it was also comfy.  He looked at her, soaking in her visage.  She was a shy hermit full of inner life – sensual, spontaneous, artistic, creative, smart, witty, emotional, and most of all, madly in love with him.  Seeing her filled him with passion, just as the sound of her voice speaking those salacious sentences had made him crazed for three days.  Her flesh.  He wanted it.

She sat down next to him at the small kitchen table and opened her laptop.  She clicked on mysexlifewithlola.com and scrolled through the plethora of Lola’s porno pictures.

“Oh. . . oh. . . my,” he said slowly with long pauses in between exclamations.  “Um, wow!”  Images of Lola naked were replete on the screen.  But not just naked – naked with her 12 inch dildo, with her princess plug, with pearls on a string streaming from her ass, with her man, H.H., sucking his cock, filled with his cum, overflowing with the cum of other men, and stretching herself wide with one of the largest replicas of a horse cock H had ever seen!

“Yeah, she’s a handful,” said Jupi, resigned to sharing H’s attention with Lola.

“She reminds me of you,” he said, looking up at her downcast eyes.

“What?  Really?”

“Yes, if I had met you ten years ago.  I think she’s the spitting image of you.”

“Ten years ago?” Jupi echoed.

“Oh, no.  Come on.  I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You sure you don’t want some young sexy thing like Lo?”

“No, Jupi, I want you.”  He leaned in to kiss her.  Her stomach’s butterflies flew in a flutter, suddenly startled by the unexpected availability of his lips and everything else he brought to the table.

“I was just about to record another chapter.”

“Really?  Can I listen?”

“I don’t think you’ll hear much.  I record it in the closet,” she said.

“Which closet?”

“In the bedroom.”

“Oh.  Well, go right ahead.  I’ll just be lying on the bed.  Maybe I’ll hear something.”

They got up to go to the bedroom.  She took the computer and disappeared into the walk-in studio.  “Wait here quietly,” she said before shutting the door behind her.

She was just finishing up the story, “Horsing Around.”  She read loud enough for H to hear:

 

I was in jeans and I could feel my cunt getting totally saturated, soaking my panties through and through.  I spread my legs and rubbed his cock back and forth until finally he exploded.  It was a ginormous shot of cum over my head, but, as his cock slackened, he dripped some remaining cum down into my hair and on my face.  I had to unbutton my jeans and pull them and my panties down as I got on my knees.  As I sat under his dangling cock, I stroked my pussy till I too came in a giant puddle on the cement floor.

 

 

When Jupi was done with the story, she emerged from the closet.  She found H lying on his back, his trousers down around his ankles, his massive hard-on clenched in his right fist which stroked up and down from tip-to-base and back again.

“Could you hear?” she asked, astonished.

“MmmmmmGrrrrrrrrrAaaaaahhhhhhh,” was all he could say as his member erupted like a spewing volcano sending its warm lava all over the surrounding countryside and dribbling down its sheer cliffs, covering his hand in goo.  “Fuuuuck!”

“Did I do that?” asked Jupi innocently.

“You have the most sexy voice,” he answered.

Though flattered by his visceral standing ovation, Jupi was at least slightly disappointed that she wasn’t going to get any of her man’s patronage that day.  Never one to miss an opportunity, she got between his legs and licked up the mess he had made.

“Can I get an advance copy of that audiobook?” he asked.

Jupi smiled, looking up at H from between his legs.  “Of course,” she said.

After he left, she sent the audio files to him via email.

A few days later he texted her and said, “Jupi, you have no idea how happy you have made me.  I know that we can’t see each other, but I’ve been listening to your recording in the car every chance I get.  It’s incredible.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I’ve even started listening to it in bed.  I told my wife that it’s just a guided meditation to help me sleep, but, in fact, it has the opposite effect.  After she falls asleep, I pull out my cock and stroke to your voice.”

A week later he was at Jupi’s flat again.  This time they had an actual date planned.  After a small meal, they went into the bedroom and, lying down on the bed, he asked, “Can we, uh, listen to the audiobook?”

“But I’m right here,” Jupi replied.

“I know, but it turns me on.”

She agreed.

He had another request.  “Can I have you doggy style?”

“Yes.”

“And. . .”

“And what?”

“Never mind,” he said as she got on all fours on the bed and he stood next to it, ready to enter her from behind.

“What?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Can I put your laptop here?”

“Really?”

“I mean, I won’t if you. . .”

“No, go ahead.”

He placed the computer on her back, opened it up to Lola’s photos, and, listening to Jupi’s narration, entered her wet and waiting pussy.

Not Jupi, but a fan photo

 

Lo picked up her head and said, “Stroke it again as I rub my pussy.”  Lo leaned back across from Bill in the back seat and spread her legs wide.  Her right leg was lying on top of Bill’s knee.  She still had her cute little heels on.  Bill stroked his cock as he looked on, salivating, at Lo’s spread pussy.  With her left hand, Lo spread her pussy lips wide and with her right hand she was fingering her clit and her cunt.

Bill was treated to a feast for the eyes.  Lo came and came again to her own digital manipulation.  She so love’s to see men jerk off, but the only thing she loves more than that is to see them jerking off to her.  This Bill did with enthusiasm and then he started asking Lo, “I bet you want me to cum on your pussy, don’t you, you whore?”

“Oh yeah,” responded Lo in her low, deep, sexy, guttural voice.

“You want me to shoot my load all over that hot pussy, don’t you?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, do it,” she said in response as she continued to spread her legs and finger-fuck her pussy.

He got up from the seat and almost stood over her, frantically yanking at his cock.

“Come on, come on,” Lo encouraged, “cum on my pussy.  Come on.”  And then finally, in an explosion of cum that fell like rain all over Lo and her dress and her stomach and her pussy, he came and came and came and came some more.  Lo was shocked by how much he came on her.  She had never been drenched that much by a guy in her life. . . and she loved it.

 

As they listened to the story, they too came together. . . and loved it.

Lying next to each other, sprawled out on the mess of a bed, the computer screen still displaying Lo’s cum-covered body, H said, “You know, my wife has been listening to the stories as well.”

Lo Bathes in Beauty

“No,” Jupi said incredulously.

“Yes.  She found me out.  She discovered it wasn’t a ‘guided meditation.’  And so now, whenever she’s in the mood, she puts in her earbuds and listens with her computer open in front of her, while I go at her.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Jupi.

“I’m sorry.  Does that upset you?  I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, I can’t believe that little trollop.”

“Who?”

“You know who: Lola Down.  She’ll be getting off all of London before long.”

“No, dear, you’ll be getting them off with your voice.”

Thank you Lola.  Thank you Jupiter Grant.  Thank you H.  Thank you everyone who reads, listens, and gets off to these words dripping with love and lust, jizz and juices.  Thank you.

The End