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Fat Fetishizing

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Painting of Lola by Erics Figure Art

[Continued from Feedie for a Night]

It was the Saturday before Halloween.  The night of the party.  Lo had tried on, adjusted, removed, retried, readjusted the Princess Leia costume at least ten times.  She tried manipulating a sash to go across her tum, but that didn’t work.  Not only would it not stay up, it also disguised the costume to the extent that she just looked like a woman from 1001 Nights.  She tried a cape that, if she felt she needed it, she could drape it around her.  She thought that would be a good compromise and she tucked the cape into the collar of the costume.  But it kept falling out.  She tried using a binder clip to affix it, but that was uncomfortable.  In the end she said, “Fine.  Fuck it!”

“That’s what everyone will be saying to you at the party,” I reassured her, “Very fine.  I’ll fuck it.”

“I’m not an it,” she reminded me.

“I know, but I get poetic license for the sake of a pun.”

“Whatever.”

She was in a grouchy mood because, no matter what she did, her round rolls of her tum were prominent.  “It’s like I have three sets of tits,” she complained.

“What?” I asked.

“Here, here, and here,” she said, running her hands over her breasts and then her first roll round the middle of her tum and then her second roll just above her black triangle.

“Lo, but that’s what Mr. Biggs (and I, if I say so myself) find so fucking attractive about you!”

“Fat fetishizing.”

“Darling, if you weren’t fat, I’d fetishize on something else about you.”

“So you’re saying I’m fat!”

“You said it!”

“Grrrrrr.”

BBMPDG Lola

Lo’s phone rang.  It was Mr. Biggs.

“I gotta run!” Lo said to me, darting towards the door.

“No kiss?”

She scuttled back in her brown, strappy heels to give me a peck on the cheek.

“I wish I could go with you,” I said.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” she said with a wink.

“You’ll have fun at your party,” she said.

As it turned out, I had been invited to a party down the street.  Lo said that if the party she was going to with Mr. Biggs was a bust, then she’d join me.  In order to keep with her costume theme, I had bought a Boba Fett outfit, just in case.

Lo was off.  I heard the car pull away from the curb.  For an account of the Hutt’s mistreatment of the Princess, I had to wait until later that night when Lo returned home.  She never did make it to join me at my humdrum Halloween party.

A.I. of Lola and Leia with Darth Vader

It was past three in the morning when I heard the clickity-clop of my princess’s heels on the wooden floor in the hallway.  She took her shoes off there and then silently slipped into the bedroom and into the master bath.  She turned on the light and left the door slightly ajar.  I saw her from the darkness of the bed as she brushed her teeth, still dressed in her costume.  She then sat on the toilet, peed, and came to bed.

“Daddy, are you awake?”

I feigned sleep.  I didn’t want her to think I was so eager.

“Daddy,” she whispered again, closer to my ear.

I grunted.

She reached for my cock under the covers.

“You’re hard,” she whispered with joy in her voice.  She wanted to get laid, I could tell.

I grunted again.

“Stay asleep,” she coaxed, “roll on your back.  Let me use your cock.  I’ll be quick, I promise.”

I rolled on my back.  She pulled my pj bottoms down.  She lowered herself down on my erect shaft slowly.  She was soaking wet.  I slid in easy as could be.

She began bopping up and down, using her index and middle fingers of her right hand to rub circles around her clit.  She was cumming within seconds.  Her moans, groans, and prayers to God were not quiet.  I opened my eyes.  I saw she was still in her princess getup.

“Lola?” I said, as if startled from a dream.

“Shhh, Daddy, I’m almost done.”

“How was your night?” I asked.  I didn’t want her to be done.

“It was good.”

“Good?” I asked.  I was looking for something a bit more descriptive than “good.”

She was posting up-and-down on my cock, revving up for her second orgasm.  Her front teeth were biting down on her lower lip.

“Tell me more,” I implored.

“Grab my tum,” she said.

I did.  It was bouncing up and down and jiggling, just how I like it.

“Am I fat, Daddy?”

Trick question.  Was she in the mood to be fat?  Would saying yes ruin the mood?  I rolled the dice.

“Yes.”

“Fuckable fat?”

“Yes.”

“Freaky fat?”

“Yes.”

She brought herself to an orgasm.  She lifted her pussy up off of my rod to rain her cum down on me and then turn around, reverse cowgirl, and slip right back into the saddle.  I noticed as she did so that she was clean shaven.  When she left the house a few hours ago, she had a hairy bush.

She rode me as I watched her ass rise and fall with stronger and stronger strides down on my cock.  It was as if she needed more, deeper, longer, harder, thicker, fatter.

I could hear her sloppy, wet pussy slapping down and splashing on my hips.  She groaned and growled in rhythm with her own beat.  The sound grew more insistent.  She was reaching, striving for that second (or third?) orgasm, but not quite reaching it.  She pulled forward and turned around on all fours.

“Get behind me!” she insisted, as if there was no time to lose.  “Get in me and fuck me.  Fuck me hard!”

I was on my knees pounding my pelvis into her, slamming her with every ounce of energy I had.  Her head was bouncing forward into the headboard of the bed.  She didn’t care.  The new position wasn’t doing it for her.  She pulled off of me.  She got on her back and slid to the side of the bed with her legs in the air.  The sheets and blankets were soaked by now.

I stood on the side of the bed and held her ankles as I entered her pussy.

“Grab my tits,” she said.  “Pull.”  I pulled her nipples.

“Grab my tum,” she said.  “Slap it.”  I did.  I held it with my fingers like it was dough for kneading.  I slapped it.  I slapped her tits.  She grabbed my right hand and moved it to her cheek.  I knew what she wanted.  I don’t like to do it.  She slowly moved my hand in the motion of what she wanted me to do.  I followed through.  I slapped her, gently at first, across the face.

“Again!” she said.

I slapped her again.

“Harder!”

I slapped her harder.

I did this around ten times.

“Now my pussy,” she said.

I pulled out and slapped her pussy with my palm.

“Harder, faster.”

I gave her pussy about ten hard slaps.

She was frustrated.  She pushed me away.  With her legs in the air, she slapped her own pussy as if punishing it severely.  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  Until she was squirting all over the floor.  She fell backwards and collapsed in the sopping wet bed.  She passed out, leaving me standing over her, hard-up.

I walked away, went to the bathroom, washed up, dried off, and then walked to the living room couch where I went to sleep.

In the next installment – Leia and the Hutt

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Finding Lola – Three Covid Stories

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Covid Quarantine had a way of messing with our mental life.  It has been well documented that people reported having more intense dreams during the first lonely months of quarantine.  Since then, many people have experienced a strange time distortion when attempting to recall any sort of chronology.  Things basically fall into B.C. (“Before Covid”) and whatever it is that we’re living through now.  But placing events exactly on a timeline post-Covid is a bit wonky.

For us, Covid was a time when we made a lot of new friends virtually.  In order to help people through the forced “celibacy” of the quarantine (both single people and the people like us who are non-monogamous and so had to curtail their outside playtime) we started up our free books program where we sent a complimentary copy of Match, Cinder & Spark to friends, fans, and avid readers in exchange for their sending back to us a sexy photo of them with the book.  That was so much fun that we’ve continued it on a limited basis.  (Please request one via email if you’re interested.)

We heard from a lot of you out there in Lolaland and we continue to receive sexy missives from our beloved kinkster community.

This week we are going to feature three short stories sent to us by new and old friends.  Diving into Lola’s Letter Box, we are pleased to bring you a story about a single college student, a married couple, and sisters who learned a lot about each other in lockdown.

The first comes from Melissa, a college student who, like Grace, was stuck at home with her parents in the spring of 2020.  “At the time, it was the middle of my freshman year.  I’m a shy introvert, an voracious reader, a bookish nerd,” she says.

I also am a closeted nymphomaniac.  With limited tolerance for social interactions, I found that it was just easier to get off on my own.  In fact, that’s how I found your blog.  I was concerned about my internet porn binging and, by doing a search to find some way out of it, I came across Erica Garza’s book, Getting Off.  And not only did I come across it, I came to it and got off even more!  I couldn’t get off enough and so I did a deep dive (into my pussy and on the internet) until I found your post about ‘Her Porn Addiction’ and everything I read, except for Lo’s confidence and extroverted personality, sounded very familiar to me.

After that, she was hooked.  She became a regular reader of the blog for a while, but she was hungry for more.  Similar to Grace, she was afraid of ordering one of the books and having it arrive at her house, only for someone in her family to discover it and expose her.  So, she too found a way to get off during those isolating times though other means.  “I purchased all five volumes of Match, Cinder & Spark on audiobook and masturbated every night to the voice of Jupiter Grant reading the sexy stories while simultaneously scrolling through the photos of Lola on the blog.”

As we all remember so well, getting out during Covid Quarantine, even just to do shopping or go for a drive, was a big deal.  Melissa relayed that her favorite sexy thing to do was to up the stakes and take risks by getting in the car and playing the audiobook on the speakers while wearing a skirt with no panties and finger-fuck herself or dildo while driving.

Lying down in bed, masturbating naked was fine, but it didn’t have the interaction I craved.  I wanted to be around people.  Also, there’s a difference between hearing Jupiter Grant’s voice through the earbuds and hearing her through the car’s speakers.  Every chance I got, I borrowed my mom’s car and went for a drive.  Listening to the stories was like an education – I learned about some great books I should read and I learned about sex.  Win-win!  But as the months got warmer, I would drive around with the windows down.  One day I pulled up to a stoplight just as Lola was describing being mounted and pounded, used and abused, in the story ‘Pound.’  I was on the verge of cumming when I noticed the guy in the car next to me had his windows down as well and he heard everything that was making me so wet.  He gave me an intense, sidelong glance.  I just looked at him, blushed, and tried to shut off the radio, but I suddenly felt an orgasm violently taking over my body as I reached for the button.  No use.  The light turned green.  Neither of us moved.  I came.  He watched.  It was hot!

From Melissa’s miles and miles of masturbation, we now turn to our good friends Jane and Andrew.  You will recall these newlyweds discovered their kinks on their honeymoon when it was revealed that Jane gets off to erotic stories (like Match, Cinder & Spark) and Andrew likes to wear women’s panties and takes delight in his wife locking his chastity cage while she mercilessly masturbates in front of him as a form of titillating torture.

This week they sent us a photo tryptic of sorts showing how they have fun.  She hops in the tub, takes a long, relaxing bath, shaves her twat clean and smooth, and then cuddles up with a good book.  In this case it happens to be Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume IV: Sexy Shorts.  When she is good and gushing, she invites in Andrew.  He knows by now that during her sexy-time he is to be locked and loaded.  She then reads aloud the passages that have her groin grinding.  If he is lucky, she might fondle and cup his genitalia, but he is not allowed any greater gratification than that.  Yet she is free to dive into her toy drawer and pull out all the necessary accessories for her maximal self-care.  She indulges freely in the pleasures of the flesh while denying him the release he desires.

Jane and Andrew reading Match, Cinder & Spark

As she was reading the stories, she asked Andrew, “What would you think if I took many male lovers and had them fuck me in front of you?”

“Like Lola does?”

“Precisely.”

“I don’t know if I’d be able to prevent ejaculating, even in my cage.”

“How would you like it if our entire marriage you were never allowed to fuck me – only watch – as I was banged by so many men on a regular basis?”
“You would make me the happiest husband on the planet!”

“Then learned Leo was wrong – not all happy marriages are alike.  Perhaps each happy marriage is happy in its own way.”

“I know ours is.”

For Your Entertainment

 

Our third story is from Nicci and her sister Malory.

[Abridged.  The unabridged version you can find here.]

Just before the lockdown went into effect, Nicci had traveled from her hometown of Charlotte to visit her sister Malory in Tampa.  Everything was going fine until the day the CDC announced that no one should be flying anywhere.  That nixed Nicci’s return flight.  As with everyone else, her job shut down and then went remote, as did Malory’s.  The two of them were cooped up in Malory’s small, one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with only Malory’s black lab, Lucky, for company.  This made for rather cramped living space.  As Nicci tells it, the couch was too small for either of them to sleep on, so they bunked up in the bed.  When either of them needed “self-care” time, one sister had to ask the other sister for some “personal space” to “take care of business.”  On more than one occasion, stuck in bed together at night, one or the other would begin fapping.  Two twenty-something women isolated from the rest of the world needed an escape from the ever more grim news inundating them each day.

But they weren’t the only ones in need of relief.  Lucky was a rescue dog and by the time Malory had adopted him, he was too old to be neutered.  He was “intact,” as they say.  And, as such, he too needed to get off – on the couch, on the floor, on Nicci’s or Malory’s leg.

According to Nicci, one evening the two of them joined in a Zoom happy-hour with some mutual friends.  Both of them had a couple of strong margaritas and after the happy-hour was over, they continued to drink and reminisce about high school days.  Malory brought up one of their girlfriends about whom it was rumored that she had regular sex with her dog.  Nicci denied the rumor as urban legend and they both shared a laugh about it.  That led to Nicci asking Malory if she had ever seen the movie Sleeping Dogs Lie.  “It’s a terrible romcom about a woman who. . .”

“No, don’t even!”

“I kid you not!”

“What kind of romcom is that?”

The two of them ended up watching it, or at least trying to.  Nicci was right, it was terrible.

Sleeping Dogs Lie

“If I hear another accordion, it will be too soon!” said Malory.

“I know!  That soundtrack was the worst.  Like they were some French film or something.  And it manages to be cringeworthy in every way and insult just about everyone.”

“Not to mention, the moral of the story – if you can call it that.  It’s best to lie – to your spouse, family, coworkers, and friends.”

They loved hatewatching it.  Nicci added, “And the entire premise of the film – that a lonely, single college woman would give a blowjob to her dog.”

“I know, right?  I mean, it’s so unbelievable.  If I was that lonely, I wouldn’t blow him, I’d have him fuck me.”

Suddenly Nicci stopped laughing and looked very seriously at her sister.  “What?  You wouldn’t, would you?”

Malory mysteriously said, “Who says I haven’t?”

“Come on!  Stop joking.  Really?”

“Ew!” screeched Malory, dramatically, “I take him out twice a day and clean up his shit after him.  Are you kidding me?  No.”

Sure enough, just as they were having this conversation, Lucky went at it again on the rug.

“Whew,” said Nikki, laughing nervously.  “You had me worried for a minute.”

Malory laughed and, looking at Lucky, said, “If I had been fucking him, I don’t think he’d be doing that like three times a day.”

“You should have named him Horny, not Lucky,” said Nicci.

“Who are we kidding?  We’re all fucking horny and none of us are going to get lucky anytime soon,” replied Malory.

That conversation and movie was enough to set the wheels in motion for both of them.  Who knows, maybe Lucky had this arrangement in mind all the while and that’s why he was constantly causing friction on the carpet.

Before long. . . .

When Nicci would go out to do the grocery shopping or Malory would go for a run in the afternoon or morning, whomever was at home was busy with. . . .

But when Malory went out for a jog one afternoon only to have the sky open up and drench her in a downpour so that she returned to the apartment early, she found her sister dripping wet as well, but not from the weather. . . .  Nicci looked up at Malory with a swirling combination of satisfaction, shame, and helplessness.

. . .

This cozy arrangement continued for about two or three months, until Nicci felt safe enough to return home.  When that fateful day came, she and her sister made an unspoken pact never to so much as mention this intense ménage à trois again.

Nicci wrote to us to say, “Though we never, ever talk about what happened between the three of us in those early months of the pandemic, since then I have found (and shared with Mal) your blog.  (You can guess what I was searching for.)  I didn’t tell her why I was sharing it with her, but I’m sure she figured it out.  Thank you for your honesty, candor, and sexiness!”

Sisters at the beach with Lucky

The (Not So) Secret Life of Lo the Nympho

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Lo’s kungfu Grip

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”

That wasn’t Lola firing off those five fucks in a row, that was me.  Lo had just used her left hand, filled with moisturizing cream, to get me off in my pajama bottoms.  This has become an almost nightly routine for us now.  We get into bed – she naked, me in my pajama bottoms – and she says, “Do you want me to milk you Daddy?”

I almost always say yes.

On the rare occasions that I ask her if I can have her, to fuck her, you know, the old-fashioned way of intercourse, she usually just reaches down between my legs and squeezes her cream-filled hand around my hard rod.  I am powerless to protest.  She strokes to climax – always my climax – and then I fall off to sleep in my cum-filled pjs, too spent to change.

This nightly ritual has spurred me to purchase five or six more pajama bottoms in order that I have something to wear the next night.

What Lo does after my dissipated desire allows me to nod off is a mystery.

But recently I have gained a glimpse into that dark, hidden recess.

After hearing from Ginger and her transformation from housewife to hotwife, Lo became curious about the legalized brothels of Nevada.  Apparently, she had been doing internet research on her own late at night.

Fit Ginger Hotwife

Fit Ginger Hotwife

“Daddy,” she said one day over breakfast, “it has been a long time since we went on a vacation.”

“True,” I said, sipping my coffee.  “What do you have in mind?”  I knew she was up to something nefarious.

“Well,” she began, looking off into the middle distance to conjure her vision like a fey dreamer, “in Nevada prostitution is legal.”

“With certain qualifications,” I said, being a cold, hard realist.  Very hard.

Undeterred by my interruption, she continued, “And I’ve looked into it.  They have special vacation, well, uh, sort of sex-tourism packages.”

Lola’s eye is always attracted to a big package.  “I’m confused,” I said.

“Daddy, they issue a special license for tourists to prostitute themselves.”

“No – really?”

She nodded enthusiastically.  Then she looked up at me with those pleading puppy eyes.  “Please, Daddy.”

I’ll spare you all the details, but basically there are a lot of costs involved: licensing, STD testing, room rental, etc.  It seemed to me very much like a day trip on a recreational fishing boat.  There’s the cost of the boat, the fishing license, the taxes, etc.  Built into the cost of the day excursion on the boat are all the hidden costs.  We had to discover all the overhead ourselves for our sex-tourism jaunt.

Once all that was done, we flew to a remote part of Nevada.  Setting up the clientele was easy, given our high-profile web presence.  There was no shortage of johns eager for pay-to-play with Lo.

Other than suggesting the idea and knowing what our special vacation was for, Lo had no other insights into the details.  She wanted it that way.  In order to keep her both figuratively and literally in the dark, I arranged the flight to land at night.  We drove through the veiled desert to the remote, rather dilapidated brothel.  It looked more like a repurposed old motel.  Lo and I found our room and, as she was exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, only a few hours after we had arrived, I woke up to begin preparations for Lo’s stay.  As Lo soundly slept in the buff on the king-sized bed, I collected all her clothes – every last garment.  I put them in my suitcase and simultaneously unpacked the special outfits I had purchased for her, especially for this occasion.  They consisted of thong panties, lace panties, satin bras, elaborate strappy one-piece lingerie, fishnet stockings, and the like.  There was not one item of clothing left in the room that she could possibly wear outside.  She was trapped by her own undergarments, imprisoned by G-strings and sheer mesh fabric.  A fitting metaphor for the Veil of Maya in which we all find ourselves.

I then snuck out of the room with her suitcase.  She had no idea, but I had rented the room adjacent to hers.  The walls were paper thin, allowing me to be a clandestine interloper in her affairs.  About nine that morning I got a text from Lo: “Where are you?”

“I had to go out.  Your first appointment is at noon.  Enjoy.”

“Out?  Where to?”

“Running some errands for your vacation.  His name is Peter.  Call me if you need anything, I will be close by.”

“Daddy, breakfast,” she wrote, complaining.

“It’s being delivered.”

I had arranged for everything.  The room service arrived, finding Lola naked in the hotel room.  I suppose that sort of thing was not unusual, given the purpose of the establishment.

I returned to my adjacent room around ten after getting some greasy grits for myself and I heard Lo in her room.  It sounded like she was showering and then masturbating.  Then, repeat.  I texted her, “Turn on the TV.”

I had arranged that I could cast from my computer to her TV.  I put on one of her favorite shows: Playboy’s “Swing.”

“Oh, Daddy!” she texted back.

I could hear the muted sounds of the TV from her room.

Around noon her first customer, I mean john, that is to say, Peter came.

And boy did he cum!

I heard muted voices.  Then I heard Lo saying, “Fill me!  Fuck me!  Stretch me!  Cum in me!”  That last bit was screamed so that it was exquisitely distinct through the wall.

I heard her repeating at the top of her lungs, as if an incantation or mantra: “I love cock!  I love cock!  I love cock!  I love cock!!!”

There were a few moments of quiet and then I heard the door close.  A few moments later Lo texted me, “First done and gone.”

“How was it.”

“Well, it’s only 12:20, so, I’d say pretty quick.  When’s my next appointment?”

“Not until 1:00.”

“Can you come here, Daddy?”

“No, Lo.  I’m out.  Running errands.”

She sent a sad-face emoji.

I heard her fire up her Hitachi Magic Wand (which I had strategically left for her to find).

Screams.  Silence.  Screams.

A knock at the door.

John #2.

This time there was a lot of talk, but no climax.  No yelling or screaming.

At exactly two o’clock I heard the door close.

“Two down,” texted Lo.

“How was it?”

“He just wanted me to stroke his cock while I looked into his eyes and talked to him.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Anything that came to mind.  He just wanted me to talk.  I tried to make sexy talk, but he preferred that I just say anything.  I basically told him the history of Elizabethan Theater and the history of Shakespeare plays.  That made him very hard and horny.”

“You’re kidding,” I texted back.

“Gotta go!  Next customer.”

I heard the knock at the door even before she texted me.

This time she was loud and proud.

After a little less than an hour, I heard the door close.

“So many kinks,” she texted.

“What do you mean?”

“This one just wanted me to masturbate the entire time.  You have no idea how tingly my pussy lips are.  I had the Hitachi – thanks Daddy! – on my cunt for almost an hour!”

There was another knock at the door.

“Don’t I get a lunch break?!” she texted.

“No rest for the randy,” I texted back.

This time I heard what sounded like her being thrown against the wall in a rhythmic pattern.  I was worried.  I watched my phone like a hawk.  I thought the two of them were going to pound right through the thin wall into my room.

After about twenty or thirty minutes of the constant banging, I heard nothing at all.

Ten minutes later I heard a man’s voice yelling, “Whore!  Cunt!  Fucking Slut!”

A few minutes later I heard the distinct purr of Lola.

Then the door shut again.

“Are you ok?” I texted her immediately.  I was so concerned.

“Divine,” she wrote back.

“Please explain,” I responded, dryly.

“He was rough and violent and he said so many derogatory things to me. . .  I loved it!”

“Really?”

There was another knock at the door.

This time, after a while of no sounds, or at least none that I could hear, I detected Lo’s quiet voice saying, “I love you.  I love you.  I love you.”

Then it stopped.

At ten to five, I got a text: “I’m starving, Daddy.”

I was too enraged and jealous – yes, jealous! – to respond.

At five sharp, there was another knock at the door.

This time I heard nearly nothing except the loud groan of a man’s voice.

At five-thirty the door shut.

“Well, at least I got a snack,” texted Lo.

“Ready for dinner?” I asked.

“I’m always ready, and hungry, and horny.”

I knocked at her door, even though I had the key.  I was curious as to her reaction and I also thought it would be an ironic joke.

She answered the door the way I imagine she answered it for all the six other guys who had preceded me: wearing a black negligée that barely covered her ass and pussy.  Nothing else.  Her tits were practically falling out of it.

Lo, Dressed for Success

“You’re a welcome surprise,” she said.  “I actually thought you had booked me straight through to midnight!”

“Would you like that?”

“I’m a hard worker and I work best when my customers are hard.”

“Well, good news – you and I are going to grab dinner together.”

“First, where?  Second, I have no clothes, remember?”

I handed her a sleek black dress.  She had panties and bras and high heels in the room already.

She put on the heels, not the bra or panties.  She looked dressed more as if in a negligée than a party dress.  Her nipples were visible through the thin, shiny material.

She looked good – dirty, dissolute, disheveled, devilish, and desirable.

“Don’t you want me, Daddy?” she asked as she hiked up her dress and spread her pussy lips to show me the cum dripping out.   Whose cum?  Could have been anyone’s.

“Later, Lo,” I said.  “We’ve got reservations.”  I almost chuckled to myself as I said it.

“Really?!” she asked, excited as if we were still in our metropolis and able to pick from a few hundred eating establishments.

We walked out into the cool, dry Nevada night.

“No car?” she asked as we walked in the dirt across the parking lot.

“Here we are,” I said after about fifty feet, when we got to the door of the dive bar and restaurant across from the brothel.

“Here?!” she moped.

“Lo, there ain’t another Michelin rated restaurant for at least a hundred miles from here.”

“I don’t need Michelin rated, but I do need edible.”

“Relax, this place is fine.”

“We walked in like two invitees to the Emmy’s, only to find a juke box greeted us, followed by a long, worn wooden bar, and tables with plastic picnic-table cloths covering them, pitchers of Miller Light upon them, and people wearing cowboy hats unironically dancing.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked as all the male eyes in the place magnetically rested upon her sweet, antipodinal angelic aura.

“Couldn’t be any more serious,” I said as the kind hostess showed us to our picnic-table.

We ordered the less-than-mediocre meal and a pitcher of their finest Miller beer.

“Daddy,” Lo inquired, “do I have a busy day tomorrow?”

“All booked up – ten to six.”

“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she said, almost admitting defeat.

“I believe in you, Lo.  Did you not enjoy today?”

She was quiet for a few seconds.  Pensive.  “I enjoyed it well enough.”

“What’s that mean – ‘well enough’?”

“I was hoping to get fucked like a broken screen door in a hurricane.  But only one guy was like that.  Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “that was wonderful, but the other guys – they were kinda weird, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

The meal came and Lo started eating like she hadn’t seen food in a week, even though the food was far below her standards.

She never completed her thought.

“I have something special planned for you tomorrow,” I said.

Her eyes lit up.  “Tell me!”  She can’t stand a surprise.

“Nope.  You’ll find out tomorrow.”

We finished our meal and ordered another pitcher of beer.  We weren’t driving, so, why not?

After downing two pitchers, we felt oddly attracted to the silly country dancing that we had observed among a few of the regulars.  We joined in.  Lo’s black, strappy heels were a comical contrast to the other women’s cowboy boots.  Lo’s sleek black dress also looked out of place among the other women in their jeans or denim shorts and plaid, button-down shirts.  But the biggest contrast was that the other women were all at least ten years older and heavier than Lo, by far.  They were like ranch hands.  It was clear that they were all married and moms.  Though the brothel shared a parking lot with this restaurant, it seemed as if the other prostitutes all went home to their husbands and families at the end of their shifts, or they went somewhere else, but they certainly were not grabbing dinner here.  I’m not saying any of that in a disparaging way, just pointing out the ways in which Lo stood out like a rosebush among the cacti.

And I wasn’t the only one to notice the difference.  The men in the place looked over their wives’ shoulders as they danced with them, staring at Lo.  The wives, for their part, gave Lo the meanest of looks, judging her and silently despising her.  They knew where she had been all day and where she’d be all night.  These good Christian women, with God, guns, and glory on their side, stood in judgment of Lo’s heretical goddess, gams, and gloryhole.

Perhaps mistakenly, we ordered another pitcher of beer to quench the thirst we developed while dancing.  Soon Lo was dancing in the arms of many of the different men at the bar, letting them feel her nipples over the sheer material of the dress, slide their hands down over the curve of her rear, and partially up her thigh.  I could tell Lo had a long day and was getting too tipsy to tear up the dance floor and so I politely cut in and escorted her back to her room where she had worked the day as an escort.

Samantha Massie reading Match, Cinder & Spark

Country Girls with Samantha Massie

Reverse View of Samantha Massie and friends

Samantha Massie and her besties

Samantha Massie and friends

One more of Samantha Massie’s behind

Back in the room, Lo quickly slipped out of her dress and into a slip, pulled out her Hitachi and her phone and began going at it on the couch as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth.  By the time I returned to where she had been stimulating her stretched and sore pussy, I found her, motor of the Hitachi still vibrating, her phone still open to the photos she was using to get off – pics of her friend Samantha Massie and her crew of country MILFs.  I had been in the bathroom for maybe three, four minutes max!  But by the time I came to the couch beside the bed – the same bed upon which she had prostituted her body – she was sound asleep with her breasts hanging out of her slip.

Lo, Sleeping with her Best Friend

The next morning I woke up early.  I snuck out with her dress.

“Daddy, where are you?” she texted.

“Errands,” I responded.

“What could you possibly have to do?”

“I guess not you.”

“What?”

“You fell asleep on me last night, leaving me hard up.”

“Sorry.”

“Should I find a prostitute?”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Can you fit me into your busy schedule?”

“I’m very flexible – I could probably fit you and a couple more guys in.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Time to find out how much more of this I can take.  Where’s my breakfast?”

“It should be there any minute now.”

“Well, my john is here now.”

There was another knock at the door.

“Oh, never mind.  Breakfast arrived,” she texted.

About twenty minutes and a few howls later, I heard the door close.

“How’s breakfast?” I asked.

“He fucked me as I ate it.  He said it was a real turn-on for him.”

“Full, or still hungry?” I texted back.

“I can always take a little more,” she wrote.

I heard the bath running.

I heard a knock at the door.

I heard Lo open it and talk to the customer.

About twenty minutes later I received a text.  “He jacked off to me as I took a bath.  That was easy!”

There was another knock.

Lo texted, “Daddy, they’re arriving every half hour.”

“That’s your surprise.  Today is economy class.  They only paid for thirty minutes.  Later they will be arriving every fifteen minutes.”

“What?!”  She included a number of emojis to demonstrate her displeasure with that.

There were three more visitors to her room before lunch.

“Will you join me for lunch?” she texted.

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I knocked at the door.  She opened it wearing only a transparent and skimpy negligée through which I could see everything.

Lo, Falling Out

“You said you could fit me in.”

“That was before you told me my schedule.  I’m full up.”

“I hope not.  You have ten more appointments today.”

“Ten?!”

I finally walked in the door.  Lunch was delivered.  A sandwich, fries, and a lemonade.  I watched her eat as I observed the room.  It was a mess.  The bed was a mess and looked well-used.  Various undergarments were strewn around the room.  Used condoms were hanging over the side of the trashcan and were in it as well.

“How’s work?” I inquired.

She spread her legs for me to see the commingled cum of various men dribble out of her.

“It’s a complicated business,” she said in between bites, “a lotta ins, a lotta outs.  You know.”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Everything tastes like cum,” she said as she put down her sandwich and took a sip of her drink.

“Your favorite flavor.”

“Do I have cum in my hair?” she asked.

I looked.  “A little.”

“The last guy was all about cumming on my face.”

“Bad aim?”

“No.  For the most part, he hit the target.”

“Any other standout performances?”

“One of the guys, I forget which one, wanted to use my ass.”

She knows exactly how jealous that makes me.

“Did you let him.”

“He paid for hit, didn’t he?”

“I suppose.”

“He went ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-mouth.”

“Covered all the bases.”

“Then he repeated it.”

“All in a half-hour’s time?”

“He made the rounds quickly.”

“Where did he finally arrive?”

“Ass, then mouth.”

“Well, you’ll have to speed up the spin cycle because all the rest of today’s engagements are only a quarter-hour.”

“Don’t you worry.  Just as I can make you cum in under five minutes, I will give each of them their money’s worth.”

“Your talent never ceases to amaze me!”

I left and returned to my post.  As I was outside, I saw the next customer pull up.  A middle-aged man with a wedding band on his left ring finger.

I slipped in the door to my hotel room as he knocked on Lola’s door.

Soon I could hear him knocking on Lola’s back door too!

He was gone quickly.

A new customer came in and exited in under fifteen minutes.  Lola texted me, “I had to pee when the last one arrived.  I told him so.  He asked to watch.  He stroked it as I was on the toilet and then came on my face as I continued sitting, fingering my clit in front of him.  It was hot!”

Cleanup

Ready!

Another customer.  Lo texted me after that this one had a foot fetish and came on her toes.

There were many more before her last appointment for the night.  The last one had paid for two hours and had a very particular fetish.  It was a husband and wife and they wanted Lo to dress up as a bride in white lingerie: mesh lace pushup bra, matching thong panties, harness suspender belt connected to white garters and of course a tiara with flowing lace veil.  I had packed all this for Lola with a note on it that said, “Finale.”  Now she understood what I meant by that.

They were into roleplay.  The husband and wife team told Lo that the scenario is that they are her parents on her wedding night and they are going to teach her how it’s done.

“You want to be sexy for your groom,” she said to Lo.

“OK, Mom, tell me how,” replied Lo.

“I’ll show you instead,” she said as she got naked and bent over the bed.  “Put your ass in the air like this.”

Lo stood next to her as if her magic mirror.  Gazing into the looking glass, the older woman beheld the younger.

Her husband approached her from behind and mounted her.

“Make sure you’re good and wet,” she instructed.

“Oh, Mom, I’m always wet.”

“He’ll enter you like so,” she said as she moaned.

“Is he big?” asked Lo.

“Try for yourself,” she said.

“Lola, spread your pussy for me,” he said to her.

Lola did as told, very dutifully.

He entered her.

“That’s it, honey,” said her ersatz mother as she grabbed Lo’s ass cheeks and spread them for her husband to penetrate her.  Then she got in front of Lo and began smacking at Lo’s tits as they hung down and undulated forward with each thrust from behind.

“Mom,” said Lo, “that hurts!”

“Does it?” she asked, pausing from pawing Lo’s breasts.

“I didn’t say stop,” said Lo.

The wife resumed slapping Lo’s tits, gently at first but gradually with more force as her husband also grew more forceful from behind.

“I think you have done this before,” said the wife.

“Once or twice.  Why?  Am I good at it?”

“So good,” said the husband.

“Are you going to cum?” asked his wife.

“Fuck, yes!  I am.”

“Cum on my tits!” said his wife.  “And let me taste you after,” she added, opening her mouth wide.

He pulled out of Lo and came right on his wife’s breasts as she held them together tightly.  Then he put his cock in her mouth for her to taste Lo’s juices.

“Lick me clean,” she instructed Lo.

Lo didn’t need to be told twice.

“That’s it.  You’ll make a good wife to your groom.  But, darling, I’m going to have to instruct him how to properly fuck you.  You don’t mind, do you?” asked the older woman.

“No, Mom.  He’s been hoping to be schooled by you.”

“Good.  I hope he’s longer and thicker than your father over there,” she said, nodding at the sated man in the chair.

“He is, by far!”

The couple eventually cleaned up and left, each of them kissing Lo goodbye first.

I then returned to my love and got the full story from her as she made passionate love to me, calling out numerous times, “Daddy, am I a bad girl?  Am I a slut?  Am I a proper, passionate, pliable little prostitute?”

“Yes, dear,” I said, “you’re a good whore, but more than anything else, you’re my whore.”

She liked that.  She liked that very much.

On the plane home, Lo turned to me and whispered, “Thank you Daddy, that was the most wonderful birthday present ever.”

“Birthday present? – it was your Valentine’s Day gift.”

“So I still have a birthday present coming to me?”

“You sure do!”

Her eyes lit up.  “When we get back?”

“If you’re a good girl,” I said, patronizingly.

She held my hand.  There was a silence during which I knew exactly what she was thinking.

Three, two. . .

“What is it?” she asked, right on queue.

“That would spoil the surprise.”

“But Daddy, I can’t wait.  Give me a hint.”

“No hints.”

She looked disappointed and then put her finger to her lips and furrowing her brow as if she were in deep thought.

“Now Lola,” I said, “if you do that, you’ll give yourself wrinkles prematurely.”

She looked at me, surprised.

“Do you think I’m getting wrinkles?” she asked in a panic, putting her hands to her forehead to smooth her skin.

“No,” I laughed, “no I don’t.”

“When do you think I’ll get wrinkles?  Do you think I’ll go grey?  You think my boobs will sag?”

“You realize, Lo, you’re ageist.”

“Ageist?  Me?  Impossible.  I’m dating you and you’re ancient!”

“You see.  There you go again.”

“Oh, come on,” she said.

“Well, thank God you don’t age.”

“No, I don’t, do I?”

“Not a day over twenty-four.”

“But I will be soon,” she said with fright.

“No you won’t.”

“What?”

“How old were you last year?” I asked.

“Twenty-four,” she said as if it were an obvious question.

“And how old did you turn the year before that?”

“Twenty-three.  Duh.”

“Nope.”

“What?”

“You turned twenty-four.”

“I think you failed math.  Twenty-three comes before twenty-four.”

“How old will you turn this year?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Nope.”

“We are in a plane, but are you high?  How ‘nope’?”

“Because, my dear, I am the author of this here story.  You have been twenty-four since we started this account of our sex lives together.”

She looked at me like I was crazy.

“OK,” I said, “how old am I?”

“That’s easy,” she said, looking a little nervous.

“Then tell me.”

“You’re fifty-something.”

“Fifty what?”

“Fifty-er-uh-something.”

“I had a birthday last year.  Remember?”

“Of course I do!  I got you a private stripper.  Do you remember?”

“Yes,” I said, dreamily.

She teasingly punched me, “Hey, I’m over here,” she said.

“And how old did I turn last year?”

“Fifty. . . one?”

“Nope.”

“Two?”

“Nope.”
“How old?”

“Fifty-something, exactly.”

“That’s silly.”

“I have always been fifty-something and you have always been twenty-four.  I will always be fifty-something and you will forever remain twenty-four.”

“Forever?”
I nodded affirmatively.  “Forever.”

She thought about it for a while before finally asking, “But I still get a birthday present?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then I’m ok with that.”

Lo Exhausted

Consolation Prize

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[Continued from Wing-Woman Wardrobe]

“What bar are you going to?” I asked Lo about her date with Jeremy.  To clarify, she was going to be his “wing-woman,” helping him to find a suitable companion in the aftermath of his recent divorce.

“What’s it to you?” she asked, indignantly as she sat in front of the mirror, nude, putting on her eyeliner.

“Well, you don’t have to be rude about it.  Am I being invasive if I would like to know where the love of my life is taking one of my good friends for drinks and to hook-up?”

“To be clear, yet again, I’m not the one who will be hooking-up with Jeremy.”

“Yes, I know that, but after your little performance trying to convince him to let you be his wing-woman, I have my doubts about whom Jeremy will be going home with tonight.  I imagine you won’t let him go home alone.”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So, where are you going with him?”

“I don’t think I’ll tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll probably show up there and spy on us all night.”

“Am I really that transparent?”

“Mr. Cellophane.”

“So what?  I’ll stay out of sight.”

“No you won’t.”

“I will.  Promise.  Please.”

“Fine, but only because I get turned on by you seeing me in action.”

“And I get turned on by seeing you in action.”

“I know that.  That’s what turns me on.”

“Glad we clarified that.  So, where are you taking him?”

Lola told me the name of a trendy club downtown.

“You’re not actually taking him there, are you?”

“Yes.  Why not?”

“It’s so loud with that house music and the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.”

“You’re just old.”

“How can anyone talk with that blaring?”

“Darling, they don’t have to talk.  They’re interested in the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM,” she said as she got up and pretended to be fucking me, slamming her hips into my ass with each “boom.”

“Suit yourself, but I know Jeremy won’t like it.”

We discussed it some more and agreed upon a less loud bar that we’d been to before.

Lo dolled herself up, threw on black lace thong panties, a short black skirt, and a transparent white blouse.  She wore some sparkly costume jewelry and cute heels.  I wished I was the one going out with her, but realized that I’ll have just as good a time watching her from a distance.

Lo Getting Ready for her Date

The doorbell rang and Jeremy was nervously waiting at the door like a kid picking up his prom date.

I let him in.

“All set for your debut?”

“You can joke, but this is nerve wracking.”

“Come on in.  Have a drink or two and calm yourself down.  Lola’s just finishing up.”

Jeremy came into the living room and I asked him what stiff drink he’d like.  Whiskey, one ice cube.  Easy enough for any bartender.

As I was pouring my 13-year-old scotch, Lola’s resounding voice could be heard billowing from the bedroom.  She was at it again.  It’s one of her favorite parlor tricks for our guests.

I walked into the living room with two drinks in hand.  As I passed Jeremy his, he looked up at me with a grave face of concern.  “Is she ok?” he asked.

“Lola?” I replied with a calming smile.  “Yeah, she’s fine.  She’s just getting the lead out.”

“She’s what?”

“Taking care of business.”

He was still perplexed.

“She’s masturbating until she’s silly,” I finally blurted out.

“Come on,” he replied in disbelief.

“Go see for yourself.  I’m sure she’d like that.”

Her howls were still the background to our conversation.  But they were taking shape now into her usual masturbatory mantra of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“And that should about do it,” I said to Jeremy.  “She’ll be out presently.”

About forty-five seconds later a flush Lola emerged into the living room, kissing Jeremy on the cheek.

“Hi, Lola,” he said rather embarrassed.

“Mind if I join you boys?” she asked, fixing herself a flute of champagne.

She sat in a chair next to Jeremy and very daintily placed one leg over the other as she drank.  I could see Jeremy admiring her sexy gams.  I wondered to myself if she crossed her legs because she was afraid she’d squirt if she didn’t.

We made some small talk until they both finished their drinks and then Lo gave me a little peck on the cheek and said, “Be good,” to me.

“Well, that’s no fun.”

She whispered, “And stay out of sight.”

That was her permission for me to show up at the bar to see her performance.

“Good luck,” I said to Jeremy.

“He won’t need luck,” interjected Lo, “He’s got me.”

I saw them get into his car and take off.

I quickly got myself dressed appropriately for a night out and sped off myself.

I heard from Lo after the fact that, on the way to the club, the following conversation took place:

 

Lola: You want me to jack you off?

Jeremy: What?

Lola: Jack you off.  You’re a bundle of nerves right now.  You need to relax.

Jeremy: Here, in the car, while I’m driving?
Lola: Yeah.  You never had road-head before?

Jeremy: Road-head?

Lola: Yeah, pull out your cock and I’ll blow you.

Jeremy: I think I’d crash.

Lola: Keep your eyes on the road.

Jeremy: I’ll pass.  It might make a mess.

Lola: Suit yourself.

Jeremy: Can I ask you a personal question?
Lola: Anything.  I love personal questions.

Jeremy: HH said that you were, uh, masturbating back at the house.

Lola: Yeah.

Jeremy: Is that true?

Lola: I wasn’t singing in the shower. Didn’t your ex masturbate?

Jeremy: Not that I know of.

Lola: Oh honey, no wonder she ran off with the plumber.

Jeremy: What do you mean by that?
Lola: She was so repressed.  She needed someone to unclog her pipe, if you know what I mean.

Jeremy: We had some regular sex.

Lola: Regular is boring.  Rough, ram-rod, raw-dog is what she needs.  Did she ever climax?
Jeremy: I don’t know.

Lola: Then that’s a no.

Jeremy: I grew up in a different era.

Lola: But women needed then what they need now.  Promise me that if you start dating again, you’ll come to me.

Jeremy: Come to you?
Lola: Yeah, for advice.

Jeremy: Oh.

Lola: What did you think I meant?

Jeremy: Nothing.

Lola: You thought I meant ‘cum to me,’ didn’t you?

Jeremy: Well, is that what you meant?

Lola: I wouldn’t be offended.

 

Road Head

They got to the bar.  Jeremy was hard under his pressed khaki pants.  Lola had teased him so.  But that was quickly replaced by nervousness and fear.  He hadn’t done something like this in over twenty years.  This wasn’t one of those super-trendy bars with the red velvet rope, the long line outside, the bouncer turning anyone away whom he thought didn’t add cache to the joint.  No, this was a regular bar in a desirable neighborhood that had a commanding view of our city.  The drinks weren’t cheap and the food was served on small plates.  The clientele had to be of a certain economic strata in order to afford it.  And that was Lola’s fatal flaw in her design for this evening.  Instead of taking Jeremy to some dive joint popular with the college age crowd, she took him to something that she knew would be upscale.  But, as a result, it meant that the only single women in the place were in their forties.  Maybe there were a few in their thirties.  But all the twenty-something women were on the arms of older men who could afford to treat their dates to a special evening.

I’m not judging or stereotyping.  I’m just describing what I saw.  Lo knows that she and I are frequently one of those December/May couples in an establishment like this.

Despite the fact that I had left the house after Jeremy and Lo, I arrived first.  My knowledge of the city streets is better than Jeremy’s navigation system.  I was inconspicuously hidden in a dark corner at a table for one.  I saw Lola confidently enter with Jeremy and I saw as she scanned the room for the optimal place to occupy with him for greatest effect and maximum visibility.  They took a spot at the center of the bar.  Lo ordered a fancy cocktail and Jeremy ordered a beer.  They were talking as if they were colleagues at work.  Lo was running her hand through her thick hair, smiling, and gently touching Jeremy’s elbow as she laughed.

At the club

I could see guys at the bar taking note of Lola.  More than one of them tried to chat her up, but she shut them down quick.

Jeremy looked stiff as a board, and not in a good way.  After a couple more drinks, they both were loosened up a bit.  So was the crowd.  More people filed into the already cramped bar area and eventually two women who were trying to order drinks near Lo and Jeremy struck up a conversation with them.  I couldn’t hear it, of course, but I later got the gist of it from Lola.

It turned out these two women were both in their forties and both newly divorced and trying to break into the dating scene.  Lo elicited all the information from them while masterfully directing their attention to Jeremy and attempting to remove herself from the equation by explaining that they are just friends.  But Lo overplayed her hand.  In order to fully dispel any doubt of her own intentions vis-à-vis Jeremy, Lo said she’s not into guys.

Oh boy, the eyes of the two women lit up!  Their conversation became animated.  They started regaling Lo with stories about flirting or kissing girls in college, always wanting to try it more, being married and confined by the marriage, and now, ready to explore new possibilities.

The two women were already quite intoxicated when they began talking with Lo and Jeremy.  Their inhibitions were down and their arousal at this young, fresh meat high.  They complimented and flirted with Lo, leaving Jeremy to watch dumbly.

Lo, for her part, cannot turn away from the attention.  And so, after a few paltry attempts to direct their interest toward Jeremy, Lo gave in.  Soon she was making out with one and then the other of the women, exchanging numbers, and, eventually, walking out with Jeremy.

On the ride home, Lo felt truly bad for her behavior.

 

Lola: I’m sorry about that.

Jeremy: About what?

Lola: The two women.  We came out for you, not me.

Jeremy: That’s ok.  I found it entertaining.

Lola: You like lesbians?

Jeremy: Who doesn’t?

Lola: You jack off to girl-on-girl porn?

Jeremy: [Uncomfortable.] Um, er, I have.

Lola: Are you hard now?

Jeremy: I’m driving.

Lola: I see that.  You can drive and be hard.

Jeremy: I’m. . .

Lola: [Feeling his crotch.]  Mmmm, you are hard.

Jeremy: There’s something about your voice.

Lola: That everything I say is dirty and depraved?

Jeremy: [Laughing.]

Lola: [Putting her right hand between her legs.] Did you want to see me with those two women?

Jeremy: I wouldn’t have objected.

Lola: Did your wife look at porn?

Jeremy: Ex-wife.

Lola: Did your ex-wife look at porn?

Jeremy: I told you, I don’t think so.

Lola: When you had sex, would she put her finger down on her clit and stroke it?

Jeremy: No.

Lola: Would she pull her pussy lips wide and stretch them out until it hurt?

Jeremy: No.

Lola: Would she curl her index finger up and inside her and finger herself when your cock was filling her up?

Jeremy: No.

Lola: Would she get so fucking wet that she could slide her entire hand inside and grab your cock while you fucked her?

Jeremy: No.

Lola: Would she beg you for another man to fuck her at the same time as you?

Jeremy: Never.

Lola: [Pulling out his dick.] You’re so hard right now.  That whole time at the bar must have made you so full-up.  Do you have blue-balls?

Jeremy: Uh.

Piss Slut

Just then they pulled up to the house.  Again, I was home before they and I pretended that I had never even left.  I was sitting on the couch.  I saw the car headlights outside.  Inside the car, Lola was climaxing.  She held Jeremy’s hand as she pressed her knees together tightly.  She squeezed Jeremy’s hand so firmly that he cried out.  Lo bit her lower lip.  When she finally relaxed, she turned to him and said, “I’m sorry for hurting you.  I was trying to hold it in.”

“Hold what in?”

“My squirt.”

“Squirt?”

“Yeah.  I didn’t want to leave a puddle on your seat.”  There was a long pause before Lo, realizing that Jeremy was thinking about leaving, said, “You can stay a while.  It’s a two-car garage, if you know what I mean.”

“I think I should go.”

“So soon?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Just go home.”

“And masturbate?”

Jeremy looked baffled at Lola.

“You can say it,” she coaxed gently.

“I might.”

“Why don’t you let me do it for you,” she said rather than asked.  She began to jerk his cock as he was in park.  Her mouth was very near to the tip of his cock.  She looked up at him.  “Do you wish you could have seen those two women hungrily and greedily fondling my naked body?  What do you think?  They each had two or three kids.  What do you think it would be like?  Them, with their sagging breasts, jealously pawing at my perky tits.  Sucking them.  Telling me to suck theirs.  One of them holding my ankles up in the air as the other buries her face in my bush.  Each of them telling the other to use me, to finger me, to fist me.  Maybe they had their own strap-ons and they wanted to take turns fucking me.  Maybe one wanted to fuck my cunt as the other fucked my ass.  What do you think?  How do you think I would like that?”

“I, I, I think you’d love that.”

Lola stroked faster.

“I totally would.  I’d like them to put a collar and leash on me and lead me around the house naked like a dog.  They could bring me to the bathroom and piss on me – in my hair, on my face, on my tits.  They could sit on the side of the tub and masturbate until they squirt on my body.  They’d call me their slut, their whore, their bitch.  They’d pull at my nipples and spank my ass.  One of them would hold my legs back as the other spanked my pussy.  They’d punish me for being young and beautiful.  They’d take out all their frustration on me.  You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Suddenly there was a massive ejaculation that shot from the tip of Jeremy’s cock to Lola’s face.  It wouldn’t stop spurting hot white cum all over her face.  It was as if he hadn’t cum for years!  Lola loved it!  He called out and moaned and pounded the ceiling of his car with his fist.

Finally, when he had calmed down, Lo sat back, her faced covered, her hair covered, her neck covered and dripping down her cleavage, and she said, “The icing on the cake!  HH will love this!”

“Oh shit,” said Jeremy, “HH.”

Lo laughed.  She repeated, “HH will love this.  Don’t worry.”

“You two have one strange relationship.”

“Not so strange.  You’ll see.  The world has changed a lot since you were single.”

“Well, Lola, thanks for a good night.”

“Sorry I had to be your consolation prize.”

“To be honest, you’re the one I wanted the most.”

“You’re so sweet!” said Lo as she leaned in and kissed Jeremy a long, open mouthed kiss, getting his own warm cum all over him.

“Good night,” she said as she hopped out of the car and walked in to greet me, the evidence of her evening covering her like a pearlescent halo that had melted.

“Hello Lo,” I said as she walked in.

She approached me and kissed me just as she had kissed Jeremy and then she dragged me to the bedroom to fuck her as she recounted for me every detail of the date, asking me, “Daddy, am I a slut?  Am I a total whore?  Am I bad?  Look at me, covered in another man’s cum.  Punish me.”  And through her mental masochism, she managed to bring herself to orgasm multiple times.

The cum on

Smalltown Strumpet – Part IV – Gatekeeper

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[Continued from Smalltown Strumpet Part III – Flaming Lips]

In my haste to leave the library the previous day, I had not realized that I accidentally left with my pile of research material a lone copy of Match, Cinder & Spark there among the various historical texts.

And I didn’t realize it until. . . well, let me pick up where I left off.

It was Sunday and it was hot!  Hot and humid.  There was no air conditioning in this country house and we woke up in sopping sheets.  Now, granted, some of that moisture may have been from the ice-play the night before.  Some of it may have been from whatever antics Lo got up to while I was sleeping – slapping her pussy, masturbating to who-knows-what, and squirting.  I have no recollection of anything since it was a king-size bed and I slept like the dead.

All I know is I woke to a sticky, tropical atmosphere and I did not like it.

Lo was asleep, naked, next to me – her fine, round ass in a revelatory and prominent position.

Hot Lola on a hot night

I made some coffee and wondered what the hell we would do in this oppressive heat.

Lo eventually got up and sauntered through the house naked.

“Daddy,” she complained, “I can’t take anything else off to get cool.”

“You could fill up on ice again,” I joked.

“How can you possibly drink that hot coffee in this?”

“I need something to get me up.”

“Doesn’t this do it for you?” she asked, posing seductively.

Would this get you up in the morning?

“That only gets up one appendage and one appetite.”

“Well, it should stimulate your entire being.”

Suddenly we heard a knock.

“What was that?” I asked.

Lo shrugged her shoulders.

Another knock.

“The door?” I asked out loud, walking over to the rarely used front door.  Lo followed, naked, filled with curiosity.

I opened the door a crack.  A man in his late twenties or early thirties stood on the front steps.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder and attempt to catch a glimpse of my nymph standing in the living room’s shadows and morning light.

“Hi,” he said genially, “I’m Tom.  I live across the way, over yonder.”  He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder.

“Yeah?” I asked, a bit defensive.

“Well, it’s a hot day and we have a pool in the backyard.  I was just wondering if you wanted to use it.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, Tom,” I began to say, when Lo ran up behind me and, edging her way next to me, exposing her entire self to Tom and the front yard and the street beyond, she interrupted and said, “That sounds great!  We’ll be over in about an hour.”

“Sure thing ma’am.  Just walk around the side and let yourself in.”

I closed the door and turned to Lo, who had a very contrite look on her face.

“Lola, do you really think that we are going over there?”

“Yes.  Why not, Daddy?”

“You’re going to put on your little dental floss bikini and tan and swim with a bunch of redneck hillbillies?”

She nodded her head up-and-down rapidly.

“It’s hot,” she said, “and I want to get wet.”

After breakfast we walked across the country road – Lo wearing almost nothing at all – and went around the side of the house.  There was a gate around the backyard.

“Why do you think they need a gate in these rural parts?” asked Lo.

“It’s the law,” I said.  “If you have a pool, you have to gate it in to make sure no little kids accidentally get in, fall in the pool, and drown.”

“Ah, I get it.”

We walked into the enclosed backyard.  By the looks of the front of the house, I didn’t expect much, but I was pleasantly surprised by the inground pool and the upkeep of the grounds.

There were five guys, I’d say all in their twenties, standing around, practically drooling when they saw Lo in her bikini.  Did I mention that she literally stopped traffic as we crossed the street?

“Hiya!” called Lo, waiving.

“Hi,” they almost grunted back.

“Got a nice cold beverage for a thirsty girl?” she asked.  “Make sure it has a straw for me to suck.”

One of the men ran inside and got her something in a tall glass.

“Why you boys so over-dressed?” she asked.  They were in shorts and t-shirts.

“What?”

“Get naked,” she said plainly.

They did as she said.  They got right down to nothing, revealing the pale white areas that were exact replicas on their skin of the shorts and t-shirts they had just removed.

Their junk hung out and Lo liked what she saw.

She lay down in a lounge chair and spread her legs, hanging them over the sides.

“Isn’t anyone going to offer to apply sunscreen?” she asked, holding out the bottle.

The five guys sprang to it, each taking some lotion and applying it to a limb, leaving one to apply it to Lo’s neck and shoulders.  His cock was very close to Lo’s face.

During this whole circus routine with the trained bears, I just stood in the shade of a large oak by the side of the pool.  No one even questioned me with a “How you doing?” or “Can I get you anything?”

When Lo was good and greased up, she lay back as the nude men stood around her.

“Well, you just going to stand there, or are you going to get to wanking?”

“What?” asked one of them, not comprehending.

“Jerk off!  Put your puds in your palms and start stroking.”

Lo lay back while they formed a circle-jerk for her.  That’s just what she enjoys – being the center of attention, the object of affection, the target of ejaculation.

She pressed her tits together in the tiny bikini top.

She allowed first one then the other nipple to peek out of its tight cup.

She pulled up the thin thong between her legs, allowing her meaty pussy to protrude on either side of the taught string.  Her flappy folds fell from between her legs, yet her wet hole was obscured by the itty-bitty material nestled up in her nook.

She rolled over and pulled the back of her bikini bottom up high, revealing just about all of her balloon knot, but the spot itself.

Then the gentle tributes began to rain down on her like warm droplets and streams of liquified love.

First one, then two, then all five of the guys were releasing their pent-up power onto her soft and supple skin.  She was eager to see it happen in its full glory of the morning sun and she swooped over on her back and caught the remaining orgasmic rush with her tum and tits.

When they were done, she gracefully sat up, licked her lips, walked across the lawn to the pool, and slowly descended into the cool blue water.  The pearly patina of the libation bearers floated on the surface of the water, gradually spreading further and further out across the large pool.

“Aren’t you guys going to come in?”

They all dove in right quick.  They swam around and close to Lola like she was a rarely seen sea animal who, against impossible odds, was in captivity and available for inspection.

“Aren’t you going to come in, HH?” called Lo from the side of the pool.  “It’s warm and wet,” she said quite unambiguously.

“I’ll wait till it’s not quite so crowded,” I responded wryly.

“Suit yourself.”

“More than I can say your suiters have on!”

“Huh?  Oh.  Funny,” she said, sticking out her tongue and swimming away.

After some frolics in the water, they all got out and someone refreshed Lo’s drink.  They sat around naked as the day they were born – except Lo.  Ain’t that a twist?

Somebody asked, “Lo, why don’t you take your clothes off?”

“Clothes?  Am I wearing clothes?” she asked with her Scarlett voice.  Her affectation left zero impression on her audience.

“You sure are.”

“Well, boys, the way I see it, men just want to see only about four to six inches of a woman’s body,” she said, sliding her finger over the skimpy string between her legs, “but a woman is much more than these six inches.”

“You got that right,” said one of the guys.  When we all looked towards him to see what he meant by that, he grew silent, apparently lacking comprehension of his own comment.

One of the guys suggested a two-hand-touch football game.

“Sure,” said Lo, “I’ll be goalie.  I’m good at goaltending.”

“First of all,” I said, setting her straight, “football doesn’t have a goalkeeper.  And second of all, you’ve let a lot of balls in your goal, from what I can tell.”

“No balls!  Some logs or sluggers, or whatever you call them.”

“Call what – baseball bats?”

“Yeah!”

“Again, wrong sport.”

“I think you just don’t know what game I’m playing.”

“Touché!” I called.

The guys picked up a football and gave it to Lola.  They explained the game and said that she could be on whichever side she wanted.

Lo certainly enjoyed touching those guys with her two hands.  It took some more explaining that, though the game is called “two-hand-touch,” that doesn’t mean that Lo’s team gets points every time she touches a man on the other team with both hands.  She looked very dismayed at her misunderstanding.

We played a little more and at one point Lo was the quarter back.  The other team blitzed and the guy who was guarding Lola reached up and grabbed her tits with his two hands as soon as she said “Hike.”

“Hey!” she called.

“What?  You’re down.”

“I know I’m Down, but who said to stop?  Try Lo Down,” she said, moving one of his hands to her crotch.

Later Lo was covering one of their receivers and, as the ball was thrown to him, she grabbed him by his dong.

“That’s pass interference!” he cried out after he missed the ball.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’s a penalty.”

“Punish me!” she said, turning tail and sticking out her bum for a spanking.

Eventually we got hot again and we all ended up in the pool this time.

“Wasn’t I a great gatekeeper?” she asked me.

“Gatekeeper?  I told you Lo, there’s no goalkeeping or goaltending in football.”

“I wasn’t talking about football, I mean not one of these guys has fucked me yet.  I’ve been gatekeeping.”

“You want praise for that?  It’s COVID times.  You know that.”

“Yes, Daddy, praise me.”

“Good girl,” I said with sarcasm, and she rubbed her wet, dark hair up against me like a loving kitten.

But soon our fun and games came to a halt because we heard what sounded like a mob outside.

We got out of the pool and dressed and saw a number of women with signs.  It looked like they were picketing the house across the street – the house where Lo and I had been staying.

Turns out that the previous day, when I was at the library and got called away in a hurry by Lo, and I accidentally left my copy of Match, Cinder & Spark behind with the other library books, someone found it.  I’m not sure exactly how it went down, but my guess is this person who found it read a little of it, but then he or she put it on the small table in the entryway of the library, and displayed it with the other “new acquisitions” books.  So, there it sat, prominently. Who knows how many people saw it, picked it up, read it?  But eventually it caught the attention of some busy-body do-gooder who promptly called a meeting of like-minded people and, after church on this particular Sunday morning, they organized a protest against Lola Down.  Word had spread through the town as to where we were staying and so women showed up in droves to protest the smalltown strumpet!

Anti-Lola

Apparently, they were against pornography, but not just that, they were against the use of “perfect women” in pornography.  One housewife displayed her sign calling for banning our books in the libraries, but she was protesting in the buff.  I guess she was trying to make a confused point about “real bodies.”

Pro-Lo

To my surprise, however, there was a counter-protest of women in support of Lola.  They were certainly in the minority, but they praised Lola as the champion of fifth-wave feminism.

It was a Lo Down showdown and we were caught in the middle.  The only fortunate thing was that no one who had come out to protest knew that we were across the street from the house where they were congregated.

The police showed up, the local news showed up, even the county judge showed up!  In a small town like this, any commotion creates a snowball effect.  The crowd was growing through curiosity and also people eager to see tits.

Lola on the News

“What are we going to do?” asked Lo, looking out the front window.  “Oh shit!” she said.

“What?” asked one of the guys.

“That huge guy, the bouncer from the strip club, he’s walking right up to your front door!”

There were a loud three knocks at the door and one of the guys inside opened it up cautiously.

“You made it!” he called out, “and not a moment too soon!”

The bouncer walked in and said, “What the hell is happening across the street?”

We filled him in.  He had been invited to join the Lola Show by the owner of the house, but he ended up saving Lo’s sexy ass by leading her out the back door, putting her on an ATV and disappearing into a wooded trail, leaving me with the five guys and the angry mob.  I was quite worried.  All I saw was her cute little rear, triangulated by the three lines of her thong bikini bottom as she held on tightly to the bouncer, and the two of them bounced their way into the thicket.

“Got a second ATV?” I asked, pathetically.

Lola was whisked off over the hills and through the woods to. . . the strip club.  It was Sunday morning and, per the town’s regulations, there is no stripping allowed on the Lord’s day.

He brought her into the vacant establishment of disrepute and offered her a drink.

“Sure,” she said.

“Sorry I had to throw you out of the joint the other day.  I was just doing my job.”

“I understand.”

Lola felt like little Hermione Granger in the hut of Hagrid.

Hagrid placed a potent potion in front of Hermione and she took a few sips, looked up at his hulking figure, and smiled just a little.

“Heap a trouble you got yourself into.”

“The power of my pussy is truly amazing to me.”

“Girls dancing here all day, all night, and you come to town for a few days and suddenly you’d think the gates of hell had swung open.”

“I prefer to think of them as the pearly gates to heaven,” said Lo.  “Would you like to see?”  She asked, looking over at the empty stage.

“My own personal show?”

“Yeah.  Can you put on some music?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“Got any Rihanna?”

“Anything you want.”

“How about ‘Love on the Brain’?”

Hagrid put it on.  As the lyrics echoed in the empty hall, “What you want from me?  What you want from me?” Lo swerved and shimmied on the stage, slipping this way and that like an Asklepion serpent.

“You’re good enough to work here,” said Hagrid.

“Thanks,” said Lo.  “There was a time when I really wanted to do it, either professionally or just for fun.”

“What happened?”

“I went to an amateur night and the management treated me and the other girls so disrespectfully that I swore I’d never go back.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.  We’d treat you right.”

“Oh yeah?  How would you treat me?” asked Lo as she sat on the edge of the stage, her legs spread.

Hagrid was unfazed.  He works in a strip club.

 

It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good

And I can’t get enough

Must be love on the brain.

 

The music continued and Lo slapped her pussy to the beat.  Hagrid looked on as he poured some beer for both of them.

“We treat the girls right.  I can assure you of that.”

Lo turned over onto all fours and began stroking her ass.  Over her shoulder she asked, “I’d like to believe that.”

“Believe it,” said Hagrid as he placed one beer on the table in front of him and one on the stage for Lo.  “My younger sister strips here.”

“What?!  No way?”

“It’s true,” he said, taking a sip, which left a foam line on his mustache.

“She doesn’t have a problem with you working here?” asked Lo as she sat next to Hagrid and had some beer.

“Why should she?” he asked, naively.

“Well, I mean, she’s your sister.”

“Whatever,” he said.  “I see her naked and more at home.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“She brings guys home from the bar. . . and women too.”

“Really?”

“She likes to strut around naked, teasing them, when I’m home.”

“You both live with your parents?”

“No, we have an apartment together.”

“You. . . and your sister. . . live together?”

“Yeah.  Cheaper that way.”

“And she fucks guys in the apartment?”

“All the time.  And women.”

“In her room?”

“In her room, with the door open.  In the living room.  In the kitchen.  It doesn’t really matter to her.”

“I’ve got to meet this woman!”

“You already have.”

“What?!”

“Yeah.  The skanky stripper who was trying to eat you out when I threw you and your man outta here.”

“She’s your sister?!”

“Yep.”

Hagrid looked at his phone.

“Well, you’re in luck,” he said, looking up at Lo.

“How’s that?”

“She just texted me and said the guys dropped your man off at our apartment.”

“What?!  We gotta get over there!” said Lo, frantic that while she spent time dirty dancing for Hagrid, Hagrid’s little sister might be trying to bed her ole man.  Double standard?  You better believe it.

Hagrid and Lo arrived just as I was explaining to the little sister why I had to be smuggled to their apartment like a fugitive from justice.

Lo strutted in after Hagrid’s big bouncer body filled the frame of the door.

“You!” said the little sister.

“You!” said Lo right back at her.  It was like, how do they say it, when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?  But in this case, it was an insatiable slut meets a nymphomaniacal tramp.  Who is who?  Does it matter?

Hagrid’s sister, let’s call her Luna Lovegood for convenience, was wearing just her pink heart panties and a ratty old t-shirt, no bra.

Luna Lovegood/Evanna Lynch

The guy from the across the street, Tom, was with me.  He had hid me in the back seat of his old Buick and got me to Hagrid and Luna’s place without drawing the attention of the mob.

“Jesus, Luna, put some clothes on for fuck’s sake,” demanded Hagrid.

“Why?” she asked, leaning over me and letting me see down her t-shirt.  “They’ve all seen me naked anyway.”

Evanna Lynch

“Whatever,” said Hagrid.

Evanna Lynch

The apartment was more just a three room shack than an apartment.  It had two bedrooms off of the main kitchen/living room.  The walls were paper thin and looked like they’d fall down if someone sneezed too loudly.  The living room had a drab, dirty, worn green carpet with an old, ratty couch.  The kitchen had dirty grey linoleum tiles from the middle of the last century and a tiny table with three chairs around it.  There was a large, flatscreen TV that hung unevenly on the wall of the living room and looked out of place among all the decrepit furniture and peeling paint.

On the wall was one calendar – out of date already – issued by the strip club and with a photo of Luna nude, spreading her legs with the stripper pole blocking sight of her slit, her tits visible on either side of the pole.

“Do you want to fuck me?” Luna asked me, point blank.

“No, he doesn’t want to fuck you,” inserted Lo.

“Can’t he speak for himself?” asked Luna.  “He’s a grown man.”

“If he’s going to fuck anyone around here, it will be me,” she said defiantly.

I sort of liked the attention and having the two women fight over me.

“Why is the town all up in arms about Lola when Luna lives here?”

“What does it mean to be ‘all up in arms’?” asked Lo in her little girl voice that she knows turns me on.

“Play your cards right and I’ll show you tonight,” I said.

“You’re such a pervert – that’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting on my lap and kissing me.

“They don’t give a shit about her,” said Hagrid, nodding at Luna, “because she grew up here.  They know her.  They know all about her.  To them, she’s just more white trash in a town full of white trash.”

“Fuck you!” said Luna, grabbing her handle of vodka and taking a swig.  Mind you, it was early afternoon on a Sunday.

“But you,” said Hagrid, undeterred by Luna and talking to Lola, “Your white ass has class.  You’re from the city.  You’re not from around here.”

“I’d like to have some of her white meat,” said Tom.  “Her chicken tenders look delicious.”

“It might be white,” said Hagrid as he put on a pot of coffee, “but it ain’t tight.”

“Hey,” said Lola, “don’t judge a pussy by its possessor.”

“Well, is it tight?” asked Tom.

I played dumb.  Lo spread her legs.  Anyone could see her pussy flaps falling on either side of the thong.

She pulled at them with both hands. “It’s accommodating.”

“That’s one word for it,” said Tom.

“Look,” said Luna, “if you want some real pussy. . .”

“Real skank pussy,” interrupted Hagrid.

“You can have it,” continued Luna.  “Right here,” she said, rubbing her pussy over her shorts.

“OK,” said Tom, dumbly.

“Do you have to fuck every damn friend I bring here?!” bellowed Hagrid at Luna.

Luna put out her hand.  “A hundred.”

“What?!”

“It will cost you.  One Benjamin.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t give it away for free, you know.”

“Yes she does,” said Hagrid, getting a couple of coffee mugs from the cabinet.

“Fuck you!” yelled Luna at her brother, “This is our rent, asshole.”

“I don’t have a hundred.”

“What do you have?”

He pulled out his wallet.  He opened it.  He looked in.  “A twenty.”

Luna reached into his wallet and pulled out the twenty before he even knew what happened.  “It’s a deal.”

Luna stuffed the twenty in her jeans shorts and took the guy by the hand into her bedroom.

Lo, Hagrid, and I were left in the kitchen.  The coffee maker sputtered indicating it was brewed.

“Coffee?” offered Hagrid.

“Sure,” I said.

“Got anything to eat?” asked Lo.

Hagrid looked in the fridge, in the cupboard, and finally said, “I got these crackers and some cheese.”

“Perfect,” said Lo.

As Hagrid was preparing the cheddar and a plate of crackers, we could all hear Luna saying, “Yes, yes, yes,” in the other room, coinciding with what sounded like the slam of a bureau against a wall in rhythm with her affirmations.  The wall to her bedroom was literally shaking with each thump.

“Is it like this a lot?” I asked.

“Pretty much every night she dances.”

“I guess she’s gotta pull her weight for rent.”

Hagrid laughed a little.  “You saw how little she weighs.  She barely pulls that weight.  All her money goes to that,” he said, indicating the handle of vodka.  “And drugs.”

“That’s too bad.”

Hagrid just shrugged his wide shoulders as if I had said that it’s too bad it gets dark so early.  It’s out of his control.

“But the village vice squad leaves her alone?” I inquired.

“Like I said, she’s a known bad apple.  Lo here, she’s. . .”

“I’m more of a juicy peach,” Lo said.

“Or nectarine,” I said, indicating her smoothly shaven puss.

“The sweetest nectarine you ever tasted.”

“Fuck!  Fuck!  Jeeezuuus, fuck!” we heard Luna from the other room screaming.

“When do you think it will be safe to get back to. . .” I started to ask just as the walls began shaking like it was an earthquake.  The door to Luna’s bedroom opened and she stood in the doorway, bent over, getting it from behind.

“Will one of you get me a glass of water?” she asked.  Her hair was matted to her forehead with sweat.  “I just squirted and I’m so thirsty.”  It was hot in that shack.  No AC.

“She’s thirsty alright,” muttered Hagrid.

Lo got up and got a grungy glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap.  She brought it to Luna who stood naked with Tom’s hands covering her tits as he rammed it home from behind.

Luna downed it in one gulp.  “More,” she said.  Was she talking to Lo or Tom?

Lo filled up the glass again.

“This guy’s getting every cent of his twenty bucks worth,” she said before drinking the second glass.

She handed the glass back to Lo and propped herself up by bracing her hands in the doorway.

“He’s goo-oooo-ooo-ood,” she said to Lo.  Her “good” was drawn out and had bumps in its tone as she was rammed hard from behind.

“I’m good,” said Lo, laughing a bit.

“Shut the damn door,” cried Hagrid, exasperated.

Luna just gave him her middle finger.

“Fuck my ass,” she said over her shoulder.  It seemed she said it just to piss off her brother.

“The condom fell off as I pulled out,” Tom said to her.  “It’s still in you.”

“Forget the condom.  Fuck my ass.”

“I don’t have another one.”

“FUCK. MY. ASS.”

The three of us slowly sipped our coffee as Luna got it up the ass in the doorway.

“What were you saying?” asked Hagrid.

“Oh, I was wondering when you think it will be safe for us to get out of here.”

“We could do a drive-by now and check it out.”

“ATV or. . . ?”

“We’ll take my pickup truck.”

“Wait!” said Luna.  “I want to go with you.”

The guy behind her was still fucking her ass.

“There’s no room,” said Hagrid.

“It’s big enough for everyone to fit in,” she said without irony.

“Why would I take you?” asked Hagrid.

“Because, I want to go.”

“You’re busy, right now, earning rent.”

Luna looked over her shoulder, shut her eyes, and appeared to be focusing on performing some sort of Jedi mind trick.

Suddenly the guy behind her was cumming and cooing and cumming and calling out for the Jesus.

“Works every time,” said Luna.

“What does?” asked Lo.

“I have incredible control over my sphincter.”

Luna pulled forward, turned, got on her knees, and took Tom’s cock in her mouth.  I couldn’t help but think, “Wow!  What a Lola move!”

When Luna was done cleaning him off, Luna put on some raggedy clothes and the four of us piled into the tiny back seat of the pickup truck.

Why were all of us in the back seat?  Hagrid was driving and in the passenger seat was his giant Great Dane, sitting regally with the window open, surveying the landscape as we drove.

Lo sat on my lap and Luna on the other guy’s lap.  Lo’s and Luna’s legs were touching.

“I really liked what I saw of you in the club,” said Luna, rubbing her hand up Lo’s thigh.

“Cut it out, whore!” called Hagrid from the front.

“Fuck you!” said Luna.

Luna spread her legs.  Lo could see the tight shorts stained with wetness from the cum leaking out of her ass.  Luna unbuttoned the shorts and unzipped them.  She reached down and appeared to be finger-fucking herself.  But then she pulled out her hand.

“There it is!” she cried, displaying the recovered condom.  She tossed it out the window with a laugh.

We got to the house and the angry mob had moved on.

“Thanks so much,” I said to Hagrid.

“No problem.  Get outta town while you can,” he cautioned.

“Will do!”

“Thanks!  Thanks for everything,” said Lo to everyone in the truck.

“Bye!” called Luna, to Lola, as she flashed her tits.  “Stay slutty!”

“You know I will!”

Lo and I waisted no time packing up, writing a little note to my friend John, and getting the hell out of Dodge.

The End

Lola Down – Cover Girl

 

Smalltown Strumpet – Flaming Lips

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Smalltown Strumpet – Part III: Flaming Lips

Continued From: The Doctor Will See You Now

The Flaming Lips

Lo was out of commission.  There would be no sexy suntanning in the front yard, no strip club short-short shenanigans, no teasing the townies down Main Street.  She spent much of her time submerged in the clawfoot tub or strutting bottomless around the house, airing out her nettle-enflamed pussy.  She had to sit on pillows and masturbating was now out of the question.  This put her in a very unpleasant mood.

Though I wished to attend to her, I needed to get out of the house, lest I bear the brunt of her frustration with her cunt.

I had been working on an article about bestiality portrayed in art and literature through the centuries and thought I’d mosey down to the local library to continue my studies.

Lo had taken a couple of Tylenol PM and was resting comfortably when I slipped out with my computer and backpack.  I figured I had a couple of hours to myself.

The library was a very small brick building.  There were two rooms and a small anteroom at the entrance that contained the check-out desk, a couple of computers, and a display table for new books.

I set up in a small corner of the library, sitting in a large, square, worn brown leather club chair that looked like it was at least as old as I am.  It was remarkably comfortable and the arms were flat, so they were perfect for resting my books and computer around me conveniently.

I began by looking at a blog from Remittance Girl on “Defending the Indefensible: Bestiality in Erotica.”  It was a great place to start my research.  She had written the article in response to censorship of erotica authors by PayPal – an infringement of speech that this very author had suffered by that very company!  They should call it PrudePal.

In her article she referenced one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, and his defense of Chris Handley, among others who have been prosecuted for the material they read, write, draw, collect, sell, or possess.

This led me down a rabbit hole into a morass of law, liberty, and lurid content.  Thank goodness my chair had its back against the wall because if any local busybody were to see the ‘scholarly studies’ I was researching, there’s no telling what would happen.

Actually, there is a telling what would happen and if you have a moment, I will inform you as to the tempest in a teapot that an oversight by me stirred up in that little hamlet.

I was deep into my investigation of Greek portrayals of bestiality and had about ten different books from the library surrounding my chair when I received a text from Lola.  “Where are you, Daddy?”

I guess I won’t be able to start my deep dive into Hokusai and the Japanese tradition of erotic images.  I packed up my stuff hastily, leaving behind the library books in their sprawling spread of towers on the armchair.

Perhaps another time I will get back to you with my developed thoughts on the matter.

I drove back to the house where we were staying, to find Lo fully naked and fully submerged in the tub.  She looked up at me and said, “I’m wet, and not just because I’m taking a bath.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” she said.  “But you left me, Daddy!”  She pouted.

“I’m sorry Lo, but. . .”

“Shut up and get naked.”

“I’m not going for a swim.  There’s only room for one in there.”

“Who said anything about that?” she asked as she put her mouth on the edge of the tub and opened wide.  She looked up at me.  “Insert your cock.  I’ll be your cumdump.”

I did as instructed.  She sucked.  I fucked (her face).  Water splashed around.  She contorted in the tub, eventually getting to a position where her legs were going straight up the wall in a “V” formation, her head was tilted back over the opposite side of the tub, and she was squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples as I fucked her face.  With every thrust into her mouth and down her throat, my heavy ball sack was slapping up against her upside-down face, smacking her squarely in the eyes and on the bridge of her nose.  She liked it.

Lo, cooling down her flaming lips

Somehow the plug came undone and the water drained out of the tub.  Lo moved her hands from her tits to her pussy.  She began smacking it hard and then even harder.  She slapped her pussy like a mother spanking a very naughty child, with force and anger, until she finally squirted all over the wall of the bathroom.  The naughty child crying from the pain, perhaps.  Seeing that, I couldn’t control myself any longer and I came directly into Lo’s esophagus.  She gagged and nearly puked in the tub from the odd position of the climax.

I was dreading another trip to the hospital!

She jumped out of the tub, coughing and sputtering like she had been tossed at sea.  Cum was oozing out of her nostrils and she was struggling to catch her breath.  When she finally did, she said something I didn’t quite catch.

“What?” I asked.

“That was awesome,” she repeated.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“This stinging sensation in my pussy lips really makes for an incredible orgasm.”

“You should sit in poison nettles more often.”

“I think I might be able to have sex now, Daddy.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but my pussy is still burning.  Do me a favor.”

“What’s that?”

“Grab a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and meet me in the bedroom.”

I did as she asked, wondering how I was going to get hard again in order to give her what she wanted.

I met her in the bedroom and she was lying on her back.

“Take an ice cube and trace it around my labia,” she said.

I gently applied the cold, slippery, dripping ice to her pussy lips.  She loved it.

“Slip it in.”

I inserted it.

“Another,” she said.

I did the same thing a second time.

“Again,” she said.

And a third time.

This continued until there were more ice cubes in her pussy than in a tall glass of lemonade.

“Now fuck me.”

At this point, the eroticism of what I had been doing had me rigid.  Timidly I inserted the tip of my penis just a bit into her ice-packed pussy.

It felt cold.  Freezing, to be exact.  But not unpleasant.

“Fuck me!”

She likes to go from zero to balls-deep in under a minute.

I slide my rod all the way into her snow cone.  There was a curious mixing of hot and cold and wet, since all the ice cubes were melting pretty rapidly inside her.

We had hardly started to stir her dirty Shirley when she said, “Go get more ice.”

I pulled out, feeling a chill on my thermometer, and got another tray of ice.

I inserted my manhood to her ice bucket and as I fucked her, the friction creating heat and melting her internal coolant, she reached over and took fresh ice cubes and, one-by-one, slipped them into her slit over the shaft of my cock.  The tightness, the alternating hot and cold, the slip-sliding of the cubes inside her pussy, was unlike anything I had ever felt.

“Should I put a few in my ass?” she whispered.

I couldn’t answer and before I knew it, she was spreading her ass cheeks with one hand and putting the cubes in with the other.

“Do you want my ass, Daddy?”

I did.  I did, so bad.

I pulled out and slid my hot and cold compress into her smaller icebox and within mere seconds I melted her heart with the heat of my love.

I pulled out and all the white, watery liquid spilled out of both holes as she stood up to go to the bathroom.  It quickly dribbled down her inner thighs to her feet and puddled on the hardwood floor, leaving a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom.  I suddenly heard a loud rattle.  Her remaining ice cubes slipped out and crackled on the tile floor.

“Whoops!” I heard her call.

When she returned, she got on her knees beside the bed and looked up at me.

“Did you like that Daddy?”

“Very much, Lo,” I said.

She licked my balls and continued up my cock and then took the tip of my flaccid shaft into her mouth.  “Can I be your cock-warmer, Daddy?” she asked before taking the entire length of it in her mouth and resting her head gently on my inner thigh.

[To be continued. . .]

Lo’s cockwarmer

Smalltown Strumpet Part II – The Doctor Will See You Now

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Smalltown Strumpet

Continued from: A Room with a View

Outdoor Strip Club

 

NO MASTURBATING

The sign was clear, yet ambiguous.  Hung up in a strip joint, did it apply to the relatively rare female patron of the arts?

Lola was keen on testing the bounds of linguistic imprecision.

She unbuttoned her tight short-shorts and slid her hand down for a publicly displayed diddle.

No sooner had she done so than a bouncer came up to our table and said, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop that.  All patrons need to keep their clothes on.”

“My clothes are on,” she protested, batting her eyelashes at him, continuing to caress her cunt.

Lola’s short shorts before

“You know what I mean,” he said, unmoved by her flirtations.

She removed her hand from between her legs, licked her fingers and buttoned up.

“The nerve,” she said to me once he left.

She got up and began walking away.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’ll be back.  Keep it in your pants until then, ok?”

About five minutes later she returned.  She sat down next to me where she was, but this time she turned the little chair around and sat on it backwards, spreading her legs to make room for the back rest.

“What’s up?” I asked, confused.

“Well, your cock would be if you could see me from the front,” she replied.

I was curious.  I got up and, carrying a single in my hand, walked to the stage, gently tucked it in the dancer’s thong, turned around, and looked at my love sitting with her legs spread on the backward chair.

Ahhhaaa!  I see now.  When she went to the restroom, she apparently took with her some knife or something and cut her short-shorts through the crotch revealing her lack of panties.  (Or did she take off her panties in the bathroom?)

She was proudly displaying her very widely spread pussy lips covertly through the split seam of her short-shorts.  The only ones who could see were the strippers on the stage.

Smart.  Smart and sexy.  My woman has a head for hedonistic hijinks.

She had to refrain from stroking herself lest she alert the bouncer to her little pussy ploy.

The dancers all danced for her, as if greatly amused by the novelty of an amateur exhibitionist putting on a show for them.

I, for my part, was rather nervous about the whole scenario.  It seemed to be inviting trouble.

The dancer’s name wasn’t Trouble, but she accepted the invite.  She walked off the makeshift stage, strutted up to Lo’s spread legs, got on her knees and pantomimed cunnilingus.  The other men in the audience wanted to get a better view.  They sauntered around to look between Lo’s legs and well, soon Mr. Bouncer was back.

Lo closed her legs (a rare act for her) as he gestured that we were to leave.

Lo didn’t make a scene (also rare), but gathered up her dignity (what little was left) and strutted out to the cat-calls and whistles of her supporters.

“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into!” I said as we left, quoting from Laurel and Hardy – a film reference from before Lo’s time.

“What?  Me?!!!” she said with anger.

“I’m just kidding.  But you sure do know how to get ejected quick.”

“Meh,” she said, “I’ve been thrown out of better strip clubs than this.”

“That you have.”

“What now, Daddio?” she asked, grabbing my arm as we walked down the street.

“Now we hope we don’t get arrested.”

“I have a better idea,” she said, pulling me down a dirt road that intersected with street where we were walking.

“Lo,” I said, “I have a feeling your idea is not better.”

She ignored me and pulled me further, before bending over to expose the wide gap in her shorts that revealed the wide gap that is her pussy.

“What good are these shorts if we’re not going to use them for a quick doggin’ session?” she asked over her shoulder.  “Bang me!”

Lola’s short shorts after

I looked left and right and saw no one.  I will admit, I was feeling pent up power needing penetration after the show at the strip club.  I hastily pulled out my cock and entered Lo from behind.  She let out a long, loud moan.

“Lo, if you want me to keep this going then you need to put on your silencer.”

I rapidly ransacked her raw desire as she gushed girly juice all over my rod.  She was overflowing, soaking what little remained of the crotch of her pants.

Lo knows when I’m about to blow and, anticipating my climax, she lunged forward and spun around, landing on her knees, taking my cock in her mouth to catch every precious drop of fluid.

Swallowing her fill, she dabbed the edges of her mouth where a bit had dripped and she sat on the ground to stroke herself silly as I watched and put away my spent serpent.

Finger-fucking herself, she eventually squirted, sprinkling the earth with her holy water.

Mission completed, she got up, dusted herself off, and we continued on our way back to the street and then the center of town.

At one point she walked in front of me and, over her shoulder asked, “Can you see the hole in my shorts, Daddio?”

“Nope, not at all,” I said.

“Too bad.”

We got back to the car and, as I was driving us home, she spread her legs and was touching herself.

“Lo, come on.  Didn’t you have enough?”

“It itches, Daddy.”

“Well, wait until we get home.  We’ve had one-too-many close calls today.”

“No, I mean it really itches.”

She wasn’t stroking, she was scratching.

She spread her legs wider and looked between them.  “It’s irritated.”

I drove faster.  “I’ll get you home and you can take a shower.  Maybe that will help.”

In my haste to get her home, I got pulled over by a cop.  Out here the cops just lie in wait for out-of-state license plates and pluck them off like fish in a barrel.

“What the fuck?” said Lo as I slowed down, edging to the side of the road.

“Cop,” I said, furious that I was going to get a speeding ticket.

“I’m really in some serious discomfort here,” said Lo.

“What do you want me to do, have a high-speed chase through the dirt road Dukes of Hazzard style?”

Cops know that if you’re speeding, you’re in a rush and so they purposely take their time getting out of the car, walking up to the driver’s side window, and talking.  This guy was no different.  All the while Lo was clamping her thighs together, trying to itch herself surreptitiously.

“Hello officer,” I said when he finally greeted me.

“License and registration,” was all he said as he looked us over, apparently liking what he saw in the passenger seat.

I reached in front of Lo to the glove compartment to grab the papers.

“Hi officer,” said Lo, flirtatiously, but clearly agitated.

“Ma’am,” was all he said.

He took the papers and just as slowly as he had walked to the car, he walked back to his cruiser.

Lo spread her legs and began rubbing, slapping, and smacking her pussy to make the itching go away.  She was getting distressed rapidly.

“I can’t take this!  I don’t know what’s happening!  Look!” she said, swiveling in her seat toward me and spreading her legs.  Her entire pussy was swollen with red irritation.  So were her knees.  “I must have sat in poison ivy!!!”

I was very concerned.  Where was that cop?

“We have to go to the hospital, not home,” said Lo, pleading and commanding simultaneously.

Finally the cop came back and gave me a $75.00 ticket.

I took it from him and asked, “Can you tell me the fastest way to get to a hospital?”

“What?”

“We need to go to the hospital right away.”

“Why’s that?” he asked.

“Lo,” I said, “Do you want to show the officer?”

Lo turned toward me again and spread her legs showing her poisoned pussy.

There was a lot of information for the cop to take in at once: the ripped shorts, Lola flashing him, the inflamed pussy.  But he took it in stride and simply said, “Follow me.”  (I wondered if he was wearing a bodycam that would broadcast to headquarters Lo’s exposing herself.)

He was no longer sauntering.  He got in his patrol car quickly and drove so fast that I was hardly able to keep up.

In about fifteen minutes we were at the emergency entrance to the little local hospital.  Lo jumped out of the car as I thanked the officer.

“What happened to her?” he asked.

“We were out on a hike and, I guess she fell into some poison ivy.”

“Naked?”

“No, she was wearing shorts.”

He looked puzzled.

“Hey,” he said.  “You can forget about that speeding ticket.  I’ll revoke it when I get back to the station.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely surprised.  “Thanks a lot.  For everything!”

I parked the car and went into the emergency room waiting area.  I found Lo sitting and squirming in her seat.

“You checked in?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“What’s the wait time?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

She was going out of her mind and my questions weren’t helping.

Finally a nurse escorted us to a little examination room that was cordoned off from the others by a thin blue curtain hanging from a bar that made three sides of a rectangle around us.

“Please remove your clothes and get into this,” said the nurse, handing Lo a blue hospital gown.

Lo couldn’t take off her clothes fast enough.  Down went the shorts, up went the shirt.  She spread her legs and began smacking her pussy.

“I don’t know what else to do,” she said in frustration.  “Get me a wet towel.  Cold water.”

“That might make it worse,” I cautioned.

“Shut up and do it!”

There was no debate.  I followed her instructions and gave her the wet paper towel.  She placed it over her pussy.

“Does that help?” I asked.

“A little.  Where is that doctor?”

We waited for what felt like an interminably long time before the doctor finally arrived to examine Lo.

“Is it ok if I’m here?” I asked, not wanting to overstep my bounds.

“Are you her father?” he asked, stupidly.

“He’s my lover,” said Lo.

I was tempted to add, “And father,” but I refrained.  No time for jokes.

“If it’s ok with the patient, then you can stay,” he said, embarrassed.  “So, what brings you here today?” he asked.

Lo hiked up her flimsy hospital gown and spread her legs.  The doctor looked.  “Not usually this swollen, I take it?” he asked.

“No!” said Lo, insulted.

The doctor put on rubber gloves.  I noticed he wore a wedding band.  “May I?” he asked, moving in to touch Lo down there.

I have to admit, I was hard.  Very hard.

He used his thumb to spread her pussy lips and look very, very carefully.

Lo tried to assist him by offering her professional opinion.  “I think it’s poison ivy.”

“Hmmmm,” said the doctor.  “Is it anywhere else?”

“A little on my knees,” said Lo.

The doctor looked at Lo’s knees.

“Do you mind removing the gown?” he asked.  “I’d like to see if it is anywhere else.”

Lo complied.  Standing naked in front of the doctor he looked her over.  It seemed he was examining her more as a man than a man of medicine.

He had her turn around and bend over.  He looked carefully between her ass cheeks.  It was rather degrading to Lo.  Infantilizing.

She turned back around to face the doctor and sat down, naked still.

“Were you in the woods?” he asked.

I was curious as to how Lo would answer this one.

“We went for a walk through the woods, yes,” she said.  “At one point we sat down on the grass.”

“Do you have any rash?” asked the doctor of me.

“No, none.”

“Just you?” he asked of Lo, rhetorically.  “And only, er, there and on your knees?  That is odd.”

Lo was losing her patience.  Not a patient patient, you might say.

“Yeah, well, how I got it isn’t important.  How are we going to treat it?  It’s painful.”

“Painful?”

“Yes.”

“Itchy?”

“A little.”

“How long ago were you, uh, sitting in the grass?”

“I don’t know, maybe an hour or so ago.”

“Well, it’s not poison ivy.  That would take about a day to appear.  My guess is poison nettles.”

“Is that bad?” asked Lo as if being given a terminal diagnosis.  “I never heard of poison nettles.”

“Very common around these parts.  Never saw a case like this though,” he said, looking at Lo’s pussy.

“What can you do about it?”

“Well, normally I’d say soap and water and let it run its course.”

“I can’t even walk!” shrieked Lo in horror.  “There has to be something.”

“An oral steroid will work pretty fast.  But just to make sure it works, do you mind if I take a photo as a before comparison?” he asked, pulling out his cell phone.

“Go ahead,” said Lo, spreading her legs and using both hands to pull her pussy lips wide apart.

“And one from behind, to make sure it doesn’t spread to the anus,” he said, trying to sound clinical.

Lo got up, turned around, bent over, and spread her butt cheeks for him to snap a few photos.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, leaving us alone.

“That was weird, right?” I asked Lo.

“Yes,” agreed Lo, back to scratching and slapping her pussy, now that the doctor was gone.

“He used his own phone to take a photo.  And one from behind.”

“Whatever,” she said, dismissively.  “I’ll give him the blog address if he’s that into me.  Whatever it takes to have this go away!”

“I bet he’s jackin’ off to your photos in his office right now,” I said.

“I don’t really care,” she said, putting her hospital gown on.

We waited.  Lo grew more distressed at her discomfort.  She spread her legs and began slapping her pussy.  She was hoping the pain would replace the itch.  As she was busy between her legs a nurse walked in.  She was taken by surprise when she saw me sitting next to Lo and Lo going to town on her twat.  Lo looked up at the startled woman with an angry countenance and said, “Poison nettles,” and continued slapping the puffy petals.

The nurse disappeared as quickly as she had entered.  Apparently she had forgotten whatever it was she had to do there.

A few moments later a different doctor walked in.  He introduced himself as a specialist from dermatology.  He said the previous doctor wanted him to render a second opinion on the rash.  “Do you mind if I see it?” he asked, clearly aware of what part of Lo’s body was affected.

Lo spread her legs yet again.

The doctor made all sorts of thoughtful, considered grunts and moans.  “Hmmmm, ah.  Yes.  Hmmm.  I see.  Anything on the back or chest?  If there is a rash on the chest it could indicate a severe allergy.  May I check?”

Lo removed her gown again and brought her breasts within kissing range of the doctor’s face.  He looked them over carefully.  “Well, that is good,” he finally said, “appears to be confined to the. . . uh. . . lower parts.”

“May I put on my gown or did you want to check my ass?” asked Lo.  “The other doctor checked my ass.  Wanted to make sure it hadn’t spread to my anus.”

“Does your anus itch?” asked the doctor.

“No, not really.”

“Well, if you want me to check it out, I will.”

Lo turned around and bent over.

“May I?” asked the doctor before grabbing her ass cheeks.

“Go right ahead.”

He spread her ass cheeks wide and, as she was bent over, he asked, “It itches here?”  He touched her vulva with his fingers.  Notably, he wasn’t wearing gloves, but he too was wearing a wedding band.

“Yes.  It stings a bit there.”

“And here?” he asked as he slid his fingers to the back of her pussy.

“Yes,” she said over her shoulder.

“But nothing here,” he said, running his fingertips gently around Lo’s anus.

“No.”

“That’s good,” he said, letting go of her ass.  “You may turn around.”

“Do you also want a photo?” asked Lo.

“What?  Uh, no.  That is not necessary.”

“Because the other doctor has a few?”

“Yes, yes.”

“He showed you?”

“No, he didn’t,” said the doctor, blushing.

“Will a third doctor need to see me?  Maybe all the male doctors of the hospital would like to render an opinion?”

At this point I couldn’t tell if Lo was sarcastically calling out the doctor’s unprofessional voyeurism or if she was letting her fantastically erotic imagination run wild.

“That won’t be necessary,” said the doctor.  “I’ll just go consult with my colleague and we’ll get you a prescription.”

“This town is full of sexually frustrated men,” said Lo to me when we were alone again.  “And I have to pee,” she added.

“There has to be a bathroom close by.”

“B-R-B,” she said, getting up and leaving our little semi-private area, walking down the hall with her butt crack exposed by the hospital gown.

When she returned, I asked her, “Did you really have to pee or did you just want to put on a little show?”

“A little from column A and a little from column B.”

She laid down on her side, her rear exposed by the skimpy hospital gown in the back.

Another nurse popped in and saw Lo’s rear.  She looked at me.  “The doctor will be right here,” she said.  She looked at Lo and asked me, “Is she ok?”

“Yes,” I said, “just recovering from overexposure.”

The nurse looked puzzled and disappeared.

Lo sat up and said, “More people have seen my ass here than in our books.”

“That’s not true,” I said, my pride bruised by the comment.  “I know, on good authority, that your ass has been seen by thousands.”

“Give it some time,” replied Lo.

Now both doctors returned to our room.

“Amazing attention you’re getting, Lo,” I said.  “Does your staff treat everyone this way or is this a particularly extraordinary case of poison pussy?” I asked the doctors.  They chuckled.

“Here is the prescription said the first doctor,” handing me the note.

“And here is an ointment that should cool down and numb the stinging and itching pretty quickly,” he said, passing it to Lola.

“Can I apply it right now?” she asked, eagerly taking the small tube from him.

“Yes.”

Before either of the doctors could leave, Lo removed the cap and looked up at them.  “How much should I use?”

“About enough to cover the tip of your finger should do it,” said the doctor.

Lo squeezed out the white cream that looked like toothpaste and applied it to her fingertip.  She then spread her legs and smeared it all around the labia.

“Is it for external use only?  Cause it itches inside a bit too.”

“Do you mind,” said the doctor, “if I show you how you can apply it to the sensitive region?”

“Not at all.”

The doctor then put a dab on his fingertip and rubbed the ointment up and down Lo’s pussy lips, careful not to penetrate.  “I’d recommend not going any deeper than that,” he said.

Lo was moaning, “MMMMmmmmm, that feels good.  Tingly.  Can you apply some to my anus, doctor?  It’s beginning to itch too.”

Lo lifted her legs higher, exposing her behind to both doctors.  The doctor ran his finger around her sphincter.  “How’s that?”

“Much better,” moaned Lo seductively.  “So, nothing internal?”

“No, not with this.  I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“If it itches internally?” asked Lo.

“Well, KY jelly or lube is fine.  It may help cool it down.”

“You’ll take care of me?” Lo asked, looking at me.  I could almost hear her say, “Daddy.”

“Yes, Lo.  I’ll try to be as attentive as these good doctors.”

She smiled.  She spread her legs again and asked, “Did you get all the affected areas?”

The doctor applied a tad bit more of the cream to his fingertip and began to apply it to her clit.  Big mistake.

I saw her look up at me.  She bit her lower lip.  I saw her hands tense up and her nails dig into the backs of her legs.

Suddenly, Lo squirted a laser-like shot directly onto her tits.  It was a strange shot since she was contorted with her legs being held by her arms and her anus exposed.

“Wow!” remarked the doctor who was standing up, breaking with his professional demeanor.

“Whoops!” squealed Lo, playfully, “I sometimes do that.”

She let her legs down and as she did so, another squirt shot out and got the doctor in front of her, right on his chest.

“I can’t control it.  Honestly!” she said defensively.

“It’s ok,” said the good doctor, calmly, yet taking a couple of steps back.

“I’ve just been rubbing it all day and so now it’s. . .”

She squirted a third time on the white tile floor, making a puddle.  This time she didn’t try to stop.  It was a lot.  Her head went back and she said, “Fuuuuuuck!”  Since we weren’t cut off from the rest of the emergency room by real walls, I’m sure those in the immediate vicinity could hear her.

“Well,” said one of the doctor as he wiped down his tie, “if that will be all, we’ll get going.”

“Thank you.  Thank you both,” said Lo, a smile on her face clearly apparent even under her mask, her legs pressed together over the mess she had made.  She batted her eyelashes at the two doctors flirtatiously.  I passed her a few tissues to wipe down her chest.

The doctors lingered to watch her do this.  She dried herself off and then reached in her bag and pulled out a magazine.

“I can tell that you both are two very ethical men of science,” began Lo.  I was wondering where she was going with this.  “Perhaps you’d be interested in reading this magazine I happen to have found in the waiting room of the hospital?  There’s a fascinating article in it on nymphomania.  Actually, I have more than just a casual interest in this subject and I’d be very interested to get your professional opinions on it and the claims made in the article.”  She passed one of the doctors a copy of Ethical Non-Monogamy.  An article I had written about Lola was featured with a spread of her.  It was called, “A Report on the Nymphomaniac Condition.”  Lo found a pen next to her on the small table and carefully wrote her email address, downloladown@gmail.com, on the back cover of the magazine.

ENM Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine Lola Spread

The doctors left, magazine in hand like a consolation prize.

“Lo,” I said disapprovingly.  “You are bad.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”  She shrugged her shoulders as if to say that it’s all beyond her control – the exhibitionism, the squirting, the flirting, the manipulation.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, “before they call the cops on you.”

“I didn’t do anything illegal.  Why would they call the cops?”

“Carrying a concealed weapon.”

“I’m naked, what could I possibly carry that’s concealed?”

“Your dirty mind!”

“Well, you would get me off, wouldn’t you Daddy?”

“I think it would take me and the rest of the town to get you off completely.”

“Well, let’s get home and you can examine the body of evidence.”

It was getting dark as we drove to John’s home where she had me wait on her hand-and-foot through her convalescence.

[To be continued. . . ]