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Grist for the Mill

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Tanning while reading Match, Cinder & Spark

Strolling through the park on a bright summer’s afternoon.  “What a glorious day,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said lasciviously.

I looked at her eyes and followed her line of sight.  She was watching two sunbathers.

“Lo, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, Daddy, I just can’t wait to get home and bang you,” she said while biting her lower lip.

The female sunbather turned over, revealing that she was wearing merely a thong.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, accusatorily.

“Darling, the difference between you and I is that I am an aesthete.”

She rolled her eyes.  “This again?”

“And you are a hedonist.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Quite so.”

“What makes me a hedonist for looking at the exact same thing you were looking at?”

“I was looking at the entire composition of the sun, the clouds, the green grass, the spatial relations of the various persons and trees upon the sward, the mathematical ratio of the low lying buildings to the rectangular outline of the park’s boundary.  I could go on.”

“I’m sure you could, you pompous ass-thete!”

“While you, my dear,” I continued, ignoring her invective interruption, “were simply thinking about the heat of the sun, the cool of the breeze, the tingling between your legs stimulated by the physical appearance of those two bodies over there, going home, fucking and eating.  That’s what makes you a hedonist and me an aesthete.”

“You are unbearable!”

“Why do you take such offense?”

“Because you’re basically saying that I’m a simpleton with animalistic cravings and you are a cerebral demigod!”

“Darling, but don’t you see – that’s why we’re are made for each other.  You admire that about me and I admire you for your primal desires.  You wish you could be more like me and I wish I could be more like you.  That is the law of attraction.”

“Primal desires?!”

“I don’t mean it in a value-laden sense.  It’s merely descriptive.  As the great philosophers of Utilitarianism – Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill. . .”

“Oh boy, here we go!”

“As the originators of that philosophy of pleasure, Bentham, in contrast to Mill, put no greater weight on the enjoyment derived from eating bonbons than that derived from reading Balzac.”

“If you could shut up for ten minutes, I’d love to eat your sword and fondle your ball sack.”

“Darling, when I said ‘sward’ earlier, it was with an ‘A,’ meaning a green pasture.  And the Balzac to which I just now referred was to the French author Honoré de. . .”

“Please, please give it a rest!”

“All I’m saying is that the utils that you get from. . .”

“The what?”

“Utils.  The unit of measurement of pleasure in Utilitarianism.”

“Oh, back to that are we?”

“The utils that you get from seeing a curvaceous and scantily clad female are no better or worse than the utils I derive from viewing a Kandinsky painting.  I’m much more sympathetic to Bentham’s egalitarian theory than Mill’s hierarchy of pleasures.”

“Really?  You?  Mr. aristocrat himself?”

“If, by ‘aristocrat,’ you mean that I subscribe to a ranking of merit, then guilty as charged.  But one can excel in merit while still deriving pleasure from the simplest of things.”

“You are such an asshole!”

“But if pressed,” I said, again overlooking her impulsive outburst, “I would have to admit that I do not subscribe to Utilitarianism at all.”

“OK, I’ll bite.  What do you subscribe to?”

“I think Nietzsche understood that humans are not such simplistic beings as brute beasts, merely out to diminish pain and increase pleasure.  Observation of any great artist shows that the highest exemplars of the human race make great sacrifices and endure terrible suffering for the sake of art.”

“Oh, and what sacrifices and sufferings have you had to endure?”

“The subheading of our blog is ‘the trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.’”

“I am the source of your suffering?!”

“The source of my art, and thereby, the source of the suffering that I go through for it.”

“What suffering is that?  Having sex with a goddess multiple times a day?”

“No, no, no dear.  It’s the, the, um, creative process.”

“What does that mean?”

“Like this conversation, for instance.  It’s all just grist for the mill.”

“So, conversing with me is a source of suffering for you?”

“No, no.  You take my meaning all wrong.”

“I really don’t see another possible interpretation.”

At this point, we were at our front door.  Just as we arrived, a sun-shower began.

“What a weird season,” said Lo.  “It’s wet like spring, hot like summer, and beautiful like autumn.”

“You just described yourself: wet, hot, and beautiful.”

Lola Down – Wet, Hot, and Beautiful

“What about smart?”

“Lo, you know how I admire your intelligence.”

“Do I?  You just performed an oral dissertation about how I am a hedonist given over to carnal desires.”

“There’s wisdom in that.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are wise beyond words.”

“I know what you’re saying.  You wish I’d shut up and you could simply enjoy my beauty without having to listen to me talk.  You think you’re so smart.”

“No.  I’m just wise beyond your years.”

“I don’t need your stamp of approval.  I know I’m smart,” she said with a grin indicating just how content she was with herself.

“Then why do you get so upset when I talk?”

“Because you say the dumbest things.”

I must have looked mortally wounded by her words because she followed that up with, “I mean that with love.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“The dumbest things for someone so intelligent.  That’s what I meant.”

Once we were inside, I sat down at my computer to transcribe this little conversation of ours.  She was in the bedroom, naked no doubt.  She hollered down the hall for me to join her.

“Can’t you see I’m writing?  Why do you keep distracting me?” I called back.

“You think that life is just writing and that everything else is a distraction.”

I heard the quiet purr of her Hitachi start up, followed by her moans of pleasure.

When I had completed the reporting of our peripatetic discourse, I sauntered down the hall to check on her, following the sounds of her self-copulatory female vocalizations.

Her right hand held the mechanism between her legs as her left held her phone and scrolled through various images.

Lo’s Little Friend

I turned to leave.

“Hey,” she called to me, “where are you going?”

“It seems that you have matters well in hand,” I said.  “You give no indication of needing assistance.”

“For many species, masturbation is the mating call,” she responded.

“Oh, so you want me?”

“If your superior intellect can deign to do me – a mere mortal full of base desires.”

“Like the immaterial Nous infusing the nether pleroma with its animating spirit.”

I had penetrated her as I spoke those words.

“You’re lucky I’m such a sapiosexual, or else I’d take offense at that,” she said, looking up at me.  “But the mere fact that you not only know what those terms mean, but can use them when fucking turns me on.  And, I might add, your emanation is hardly immaterial.”

Within moments she had reached the apogee of her venereal excitement.

I slowly removed my sword from her scabbard and stood over her recovering body.

“What?” she asked.  “You’re not going to cum?”

“That was strictly for your pleasure, my dear,” I said.

“You got nothing from it?” she asked, insulted.

“Your enjoyment gives me satisfaction.  Now, back to my writing.”

“Good grief!  You’re lucky you have me or you’d have nothing to write about except ideas!”

Cum-Covered

Later that day, a friend sent an email asking, “How are you two?”

Lo responded, “We’re doing fine.  HH is writing.  I’m masturbating.  Once in a while he puts down his pen and picks up his penis and gives it to me.  But mostly he gives me his stories to edit.”

I turned to her and said, “You know, my writing makes you immortal.”

“And my body makes you mortal.”

“Are you saying that without your body I’d live forever?”

“No, I’m saying that without my body, you wouldn’t even live once.”

Rear Windows

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“Where are you going?” I asked.

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

Blue Belle Lo

“I’m going to meet Meri.”

“Where this time?”

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

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

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

“How’s that?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

“I’ve got on a bikini.”

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

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

“Is anyone home?” asked Lo.

“Everyone.”

“Everyone?”

“Yep.  Scott and all three boys.”

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

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

“It’s lovely!”

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

“What do you have?”

“Anything you want.”

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

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

Bikini Babe Lo

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

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

“Don’t you want to change?”

“Oh, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

“What?!”

“I told you.  Remember?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you think he’s watching?”

“I hope so.”

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything ok?” asked Lo.

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

“What did he want?”

“To be a pain in the ass.”

“Really?”

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

“Did you?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

“What’s up?”

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

“Why?  What’s going on?”

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

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

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

“Sure.  What can I do?”

“Will you turn towards me?”

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

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

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

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

“Are they watching us.”

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

“And the others?”

Meri shrugged her shoulders like it didn’t matter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.  And you’re Scott?”

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

“The bathroom?” asked Lo, timidly.

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” she said nervously.

He was shirtless.  No answer.

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

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

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

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

“You like my mom?”

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

“Are you going to fuck her?”

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

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

Lo briefly pulled down her mask under her chin.

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

“Shucks, thanks.”

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

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

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

“Well enough.”

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

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

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

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

Scott & Meri

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

“I just met your son,” said Lo.

“Oh, which one?” asked Meri.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And they agree to that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“If only!” blurted out Meri, loudly.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“No.”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“What?!”  Lo was very interested.

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

“Na-ah,” said Lo, incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“How’d that make you feel?”

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

“No!”

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

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

“How did you explain today to him?”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

“What was his reaction?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he have any expectations?” asked Lo.

“What do you mean?”

“Is he hoping to sleep with me?”

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

“How do you feel about it?”

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

“I’m just trying to gauge expectations.”

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

“Poor guy.  And you?”

“How many people have I slept with?”

“Yeah.”

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

Sound

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

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

Lola’s Tum

 

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

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

A Happy Fan

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

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

Volume I

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

 

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

“You’re a slut.”

“Yes,” she said, encouragingly.

“A whore.  A fucking sexmaniac.”

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

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

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

“Yes,” she screamed.

“A sex addict.  A nymphomaniac!”

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

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

 

Artistic Tribute Photo

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

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

 

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

 

 

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

Browsing the Literotica section

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

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

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

“And?”

“Your voice is so fucking sexy.”

“Really?”

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

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

“Way to drive a woman crazy!”

“Who wrote this?  Who is this Lola?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?  Really?”

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

“Ten years ago?” Jupi echoed.

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

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

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

“I was just about to record another chapter.”

“Really?  Can I listen?”

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

“Which closet?”

“In the bedroom.”

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

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

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

 

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

 

 

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

“Could you hear?” she asked, astonished.

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

“Did I do that?” asked Jupi innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Glad you like it.”

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

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

“But I’m right here,” Jupi replied.

“I know, but it turns me on.”

She agreed.

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

“Yes.”

“And. . .”

“And what?”

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

“What?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Can I put your laptop here?”

“Really?”

“I mean, I won’t if you. . .”

“No, go ahead.”

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

Not Jupi, but a fan photo

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

Lo Bathes in Beauty

“No,” Jupi said incredulously.

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

“I can’t believe it,” said Jupi.

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

The End

Lola Down, Putting the Cum back in Community

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Hello Friends!

This post will be heavy on the images, light on the writing. I just wanted to let you all know that I, HH, am in the midst of writing a long-form (novelesque?) piece that I hope to be done with by late November. It’s called “Rogue’s Gallery.”  Here are some pre-views.

 

 

Also, in our kink news, as many of you know, we have just published our latest book, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume VI, SlutLife.  It was supposed to come out in time for summer reading by the beach, but due to some production hiccups, it didn’t get released until September.

SlutLife

At the same time, Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume III: Writing Under Cover, has come out on audio book, narrated by the amazing Jupiter Grant.

Today’s post is to reach out to everyone in our extended virtual kink community and give a shout out to those of you who have supported us in so many ways, especially during these difficult times of limited social connection due to COVID.  We want to hear from all of you, to know how you’re doing and, also, to know if our posts here and our books, have helped you during these very trying times.

 

We have been so blessed by enthusiastic kinksters showing and telling us about their enjoyment of our blog, books, and audio books. We wanted to share with you the people who make this “work” worth it.

We would be remiss if we didn’t give our first shout out to the voice of MySexLifeWithLola, Miss Jupiter Grant. She is a talented narrator (understatement), author, and a sex goddess in her own right.

Jupiter Grant

Next, we recently received this lovely tribute photo from the seductive and interesting Lilith Avair.  She and her Daddy Dom, Michael, (in the second photo) have been crucial to our success. Without Michael’s technical help, this blog wouldn’t exist.

Lilith, Michael, Lola

We also want to give a warm shout out to Lil Gem and her man from PurplesGem. They have been enjoying the books and all of their fans have been enjoying them.

Lil Gem

Lil Gem

Lil Gem

 

 

 

 

Artistic photo of LilGem

Illustration of HH and Lo by LittleGem of purplesgem.com

LilGem’s Daddy has a happy read.

Lil Gem in B&W

Glad Lilgem didn’t get lil’ jealous about this sexy photo.

LittleGem of PurpleGem reads about Lola Down

 

 

 

Nikki reaching for her Lo fetish

In addition to Lil’Gem, we have also had some fun with Darling Nikki of Love Is a Fetish fame. Ain’t it tho?

Nikki and Lola

More of the sexy Nikki from Love is a Fetish.

Fun Fetish Nikki and Lo

More of Nikki

Nikki Nude

We also have been big fans of Floss (as in Floss Does Life)!  And she has shown us some lovin’ too!

Floss of FlossDoesLife
and Match, Cinder & Spark

Floss enjoys her reading.

Floss lets it all hang out.

Floss and Lola illustrated

MORE of Floss:

Beautiful Floss

From Floss’ Review

While this lovely hotwife is out having fun with a bull, her hubby is getting of to Lo.

Karla takes a selfie

 

Karla, the day she became a hotwife.

Karla and Chris

 

10 Years of Carla

Karla and her Bull

Evolution of Karla

Meanwhile, Chris, her hubby, printed out Lola’s photos to enjoy.

Chris Cums on Lo’s Pics

The real you is sexy!

That photo above is from an ad campaign, we just replaced the models with pics of Lola. However, the sentiment is the same – you, all of you, in your different shapes and sizes, are sexy as you are! Nothing is more sexy than feeling yourself to be sexy.

This couple have been enthusiastic fans of ours for a long time, though they don’t have their own blog. He is a professor. She is thinking about getting into the OnlyFans biz. Sam & Alia.

Sam and Alia read Match, Cinder & Spark together.

Our favorite fans are fans who get off to us together.

Alia seems more interested in the book than her hubby’s pud.

One thing leads to another.

But sometimes Sam has to take matters into his own hands.

Alia

Alia & Sam

And then there’s a beautiful blogger who has been creating poetry with the speed and power of lightning. The Lustful Empress.

The Lustful Empress with Lola

Collage of TLE getting off to Lola

Isn’t she just beautifully lustful?

We hope you’ve enjoyed this little tour of some of our friends in the bloggosphere. If you would like a free copy of one of our books in exchange for a sexy photo of you with it and some free publicity from us, just ask.

Of course, back when travel was a thing we did, when HH was apart from Lola, he would send her cumtributes as a token of his love & lust.

Portrait of the author as a horny man.

Stay sexy y’all!

Compersion Perversion

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[As published in the October issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, Lola goes on a date with MILF Meri.]

Lo Casually Masturbating

It was a Thursday.  I was at the office.  All alone again.  During this pandemic and sweltering heatwaves of the summer, working from the office alone actually provided both cool central air (as opposed to our poorly air conditioned apartment) and much valued quiet, alone time, conducive to creativity and, if necessary, work.  Ms. Gale was working from home.  My other employees were working remotely as well.  I was under the impression that Lo, too, was working from home.  That is, until I received an email from her.

It’s unusual for me to get an email from Lo.  Text, phone call, even the unexpected in-person appearance for a booty-call are all to be expected.  But rarely an email.  Unless something is wrong, or the landlady has written to her demanding the rent, asking for a favor, or passing along complaints from the neighbors about the volume levels, frequency, and inconvenient late hours of Lo’s orgasmic operatic arias.

But this email was different.

“Guess where I am,” it read, enigmatically.

“At home, doing work,” I replied, unimaginatively.

“Nope.”

“Is this Twenty Questions, or can I just ask, where are you?”

“I’m in the park.”

It was another sunny, hot as hell day in the city.

“OK.” I wrote back.

“I have my computer.  I’m ‘working remotely’ from here.  That’s why I’m using my email.”

“Why do you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes?”

“Guess who I’m with.”

“Bill Murray.”

“No silly!  Meri!!!”

“Oh, that’s why you put ‘working remotely’ in quotes.”

“Yeah.  She wrote to me this morning and said that she told her husband she can’t take being cooped up in the house with the kids any longer.  She’s going to the park to get away and work.  But she had invited me and so we’re both here, pretending to work, but doing a lot more suntanning than working.”

“Which park?” I asked.

“Guess.”

“Lo,” I wrote, in the tone of voice I take with her when she’s being naughty, “I actually have work to do.”  These multiple, terse emails were not conducive to getting anything done.

“Fine,” she replied, “the park next to your office.”

My office faces out onto the street, but my employee’s office, in the back of the building, looks out onto a small oval park in the midst of the other businesses.

“Do you want to come by the window and see what I’m wearing, or not wearing?”

How could I resist?

I walked across the reception room area where Ms. Gale has her desk, into the back office.  I glanced out the window and sure enough I saw my little Lo, ass up, her computer in front of her, her admirer behind her, seated about ten feet away.  There were streets hemming in the small sward, but full sun upon my nymph and her MILF.

Allow me to paint the scene for you.  Unlike the last time these two met in the park, this time Lo came prepared to bask in the sun.  She was lying on her tum, her legs bent at the knee and her feet dangling in the air.  She had her computer in front of her.

Behind her, sitting in a beach chair, was Meri, watching.  She sat, ostensibly reading a book, but she was really just spying on Lo.  The way the two of them were in relation to each other, it did not appear that they were together or knew one another.  And I was spying on both of them.  I don’t know if Lo or anyone could see me watching from above.  If Lo noticed my presence, she made no sign of it.

Lo was wearing nothing but a very tiny bikini top and a pink thong bikini bottom.  It literally was no more than a spaghetti strap covering basically none of her ass.  I was familiar with it because she had bought it on sale last fall and was so eager to wear it that she tried it on for me at home, pretending to be on the beach showing off.  A fun little game for both of us!

Lo’s Thong Askew

It wrapped around from her crotch and, when placed just so, concealed only the bare essentials of her letter ‘i’ – if you know what I mean.  From a distance, it looked as if she was wearing nothing at all on the bottom.  And I was not the only one to think that.  Sitting around the two of them on the shaded park benches were old ladies and moms with strollers and the occasional businessman out for air or a stolen glance of Lo’s delectable derrière.  I could tell that the lecherous men interspersed with a few lascivious women were all trying their utmost best to give the appearance of doing something, anything else besides what they were doing – watching Lo.  It takes one to know one, I thought.

Lo was keenly aware of her audience, but she was performing for only one.  Meri, for her part, sat slightly askew to Lo.  She wore heels, a pink skirt that stopped just short of her knees, and a grey tank-top that accentuated her large breasts, revealing lots of cleavage and that she was wearing no bra.  She wore a baseball cap and dark sunglasses in addition to her mask, as if she were a movie star trying to stay incognito.

Lo’s performance was exquisite.  Every once in a while she would reach back behind her and ‘adjust’ her bikini bottom, as if it was riding up her ass uncomfortably.  She would pull at it so nothing was concealed, at least not to Meri, and then let it go again with an audible snap.  Occasionally she would put sunscreen in her hand and run her index finger from her pussy over her balloon knot, as if to insure that those delicate parts wouldn’t burn.

From my vantagepoint, I couldn’t help but think that the sun shines from 94 million miles away for one reason only: to illuminate, warm, and tan Lo’s perfectly spherical double-orbed bronzed rear.  It was as if Helios himself was looking down intently upon Lo’s sexy little ass and the oppressive, powerful rays of light were his enormous erection aching to feel the pleasure of that posterior, but burning hotter because infinitely frustrated by the impossibility of a non-material substance’s concupiscence being quenched by the corporeal object of its affection.

Lo pretended to be oblivious to it all, typing away on her computer as if deeply engrossed by her work emails.

Even in my airconditioned office, I was growing warm from the sight.  Since no one is allowed to come to my office due to the pandemic, I don’t even bother putting on a suit anymore.  It’s strictly t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops for me this summer.  That’s not my office attire, that’s my everything attire.

I also was growing hard in my khaki shorts.  Seeing Lo nearly nude in the middle of the pedestrian and otherwise non-nude plaza, literally the center of attention in the circle of voyeurs, and me, up there, voyeuristically observing from on high, with who-knows-how-many-others lurking in the windows, was appealing to my compersion perversion.

Just when I thought the scene could not get any better, an older gentleman (I use the term loosely) wearing slacks and a button-down sky-blue casual long-sleeve shirt walked over the green grass directly towards Lo.  He squatted down to talk to her.  She turned her head toward him and then rolled over on her back, propping herself up with her elbows.  Then, for the first time I saw that she had on the bikini top with adjustable cups and she had adjusted them to a very narrow setting, exposing most of her breasts, her side-boobs bulging out.

She looked up at the man and struck up a conversation with him.  I could see practically her entire chest falling out from where I sat and I’m sure that that man had a close-up view of it.  I could see Lo smiling at him in her flirtatious way as he continued to engage her in whatever small talk they were pursuing.

I’m sure this gave Lo the triple pleasure of teasing the man while simultaneously making Meri jealous and me mad with admiration of her hotwife hospitality.  I could see Lo glance from her interlocutor to Meri, making sure that the latter was catching it all.  And I could see Meri watching with great interest.

As Lo continued to talk to the man, she seemingly absentmindedly spread her legs, revealing the tiny triangle of material covering her smooth mons pubis, and she thoughtlessly placed her hand down there as if adjusting the bathing suit or scratching an itch.  This allowed Meri a direct line of sight into Lo’s labial lodestar.

I guess Lo’s male conversationalist eventually ran out of things to say.  I saw him pass Lo something that looked like a business card and then say his adieu.  He walked away and I saw Lo smile like the scapegrace she is at Meri and Meri smiled back.  They were like two schoolgirls pulling one over the teacher.

Lo reached down between her legs and quickly pulled back the bikini bottoms for Meri to get an unobstructed view for a brief moment of bliss.  In return, Meri spread her legs and, though I couldn’t see it, flashed Lo a glimpse of her crotch, unadorned by any panties.  (I did later confirm this with Lo.)

From my perch I could comfortably enjoy all of the sexual psychological angles: between Lo and Meri; the older women on the periphery and Lo; the younger women on the sidelines and Lo, the men and Lo; as well as Lo’s basking in the attention of all of them just as she basked in the bright sunlight as if it were her spotlight on the stage.

HH – Hot & Hard

The psycho-sexual dynamics had me rock hard in my shorts and just as I was contemplating relieving the tension, I heard the faint sound of keys and then the turning of the lock on the office door.  Before I could scramble to see who was there (especially when no one was supposed to be there), in walked Ms. Gale wearing denim shorts and a gingham button down shirt, tied up in the middle to reveal her midriff.  It covered only her shoulders and breasts, though it was unbuttoned enough to reveal much cleavage.

“Ms. Gale?” I almost shouted in shock.

“Mr. H?!” she shot back.

I was keenly aware that I had a huge erection in my shorts and that Lo and her special lady friend were frolicking outside the window by which I sat.

“Why are you here?” we both asked simultaneously.

“This is my office,” I said, authoritatively.  Though, actually, I wasn’t in my office.

“I thought you put on the calendar that you were on vacation this week.”

“Oh, I had, that’s true,” I said, “but COVID put an end to our travel plans.  So, here I am.  And you?”

“It was too hot in my apartment to work.  I only have one window unit and with the temperatures in the hundreds, it doesn’t get much colder than about eighty-seven.  I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I thought that, since you were away, I’d work in the office and utilize the central air.”

“I see,” I said, still too hard to stand up.

“Why aren’t you in your office?” she asked.

“Well, I, uh,” I stumbled for a plausible answer.  “I got bored of the view,” I said.

“Oh, is the view from that window better?  I thought it just looked out onto the park,” she said as she moved toward the window to look out.  I desperately didn’t want her to do that!

She did and we both looked outside.  To my great surprise, there was no sign of Lo and Meri!!!

“It’s just a different view,” I said casually.

She looked out the window, bending over, displaying her round rear to me in the tight shorts.

“You like the view?” she asked, enigmatically.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.  “I rarely see it like this,” I said, looking at her ass.

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.  “You should take more time to smell the roses.  You’re always working,” she added as she returned to standing in front of me.  Little does she know that more often than not, when she thinks I’m assiduously working on a legal brief, I’m actually writing this torrid encomium to Lola.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” I said like a judge.  “But for now, I’ll let you have the office to yourself.  You know, we must be socially distant.”  I said it as if I were explaining to her that we need to be sexually distant.

“You don’t have to go,” she said.  “I mean, you could just work in a separate office.  I don’t mean to push you out.”

I was eager to catch up with Lola.

I put away the files I had been working on before Lo’s email and headed toward where I thought I’d find Lo and Meri.  Five minutes into my walk, I was already drenched in sweat.  I felt like I was suffocating due to the high temperatures and humidity.  Making matters worse, I had to wear that asphyxiating mask!  But I was determined.

I walked up the busy street from my office and was about to despair of my loss, but then I spied the two women sitting in front of the ice cream shop.  They each were seductively eating their treats from cups.  I took a seat not too far away from my nymph.  I didn’t worry about being discovered.  I had on dark sunglasses and my bandana mask.  Very little of my face could be seen and, as an added benefit, Meri had never met me.  To the best of my knowledge, she had no idea what I looked like.

The two of them were engrossed in conversation.  I watched for as long as I could, but the sun was baking me.  Eventually, convinced that I wasn’t missing anything of great import, I decided to return home, take a cool shower, and await Lo’s return.

I was on the couch in the living room when I heard the front door abruptly open and close.  I heard Lo scamper down the hall to the bedroom and master bath.  She too hopped in the shower first thing, but not to engage in the usual self-pleasure that she frequently enjoys in there.  No, it was a quick rinse and then, from the living room I heard her masturbatory moans.

I quietly walked down the hall.  The AC was on in the bedroom and so Lo didn’t hear me.  I slowly opened the bedroom door and couldn’t believe my eyes!  Instead of pounding her pussy with a dildo of enormous magnitude, she was sliding my Stoya Fleshlight up and down her lower lips, pressing Stoya’s labia into her own, dripping her wetness all over the prosthetic pussy.  Her eyes were closed and with her free hand she was plucking her nipples.

“Lo,” I said in a gentle tone.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” she screamed as she jumped a mile.  “What the hell are you doing home?!”  It was almost an accusation.

“I’m sorry, Darling,” I said before explaining the surprise visit by Ms. Gale and then asking her, “What the hell are you doing with my Fleshlight?”

“I hate the COVID bullshit!” she lamented.  “I want a pussy.  I want Meri’s pussy.  I want to fuck someone who is not you.  No offence,” she said after realizing what she had said.  “I just want. . .”

“No offence taken,” I said sarcastically.  “How could that possibly be offensive?”

“You know what I mean.  Of course I want to fuck you too, but I also want to be able to fuck others as well.”

“You have,” I reminded her.  “The brothers.  Remember?”

Stoya Licking her own Pussy

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, putting Stoya back on her cunt.  “That’s for them, not for me.  They’re young men, full of testosterone and they need my sweet release, especially in this pandemic.  I spread my legs, they slip in my honeypot and unload.  That’s all for them.”

“Oh, you get nothing out of it?” I asked sarcastically.  “You’re just a simple orgasm donor?”

She laughed, “I get something out of it.  I mean, I cum, yes.  And it pleases me to be their goto girl, their flesh-and-blood Fleshlight.  I won’t deny, that turns me on.  I like being their easy access.  Their cum dump.  The thought of guys’ balls aching for my cunt and unloading into me because I can provide for them what they so desperately need is an incredible turn-on.  But I want a woman.  I want someone who will take time to pleasure me, give me what I want, know what I want.  Not just ram it in deep and hard to prove how big and strong they are.  I want Meri.”

She returned to sliding and pressing the Fleshlight’s lithe labia up against her own swollen and supple lips, causing a suction sound as her own secretions lubricated the point of contact.  She reached down with her free hand and began circling her clit with her index finger.  She did all this as if I wasn’t even there.  Oblivious to me and all else but her imagination and the feel of her pussy slip-sliding against another pussy, she was soon squirting a stream of climactic juices directly into the parted prosthetic pussy.  The receptacle, upside down, simply dribbled out the contents back onto and into Lo’s already soaked and dilated source.

She took a few deep breaths.  I stood silently awaiting her command, request, or even insinuation to fill her with my meat.  But, instead she reached for her phone.  She made a call and said, “Hi.  Yeah.  Another leak.  Can you come over and fix it right away?”

She turned to me and asked, “Will you let them in?”

“Who?”

Then the doorbell rang.

I walked down the hall and admitted the two brothers.  It was the same uncomfortable silence between us as it had been before.  Merely sheepish grins and a little nod of the head as they walked toward their destination.  They no longer needed to be shown the way.

They walked into the bedroom, saw Lola splayed out on the bed naked, Fleshlight beside her body, sheets soaked, and they immediately dropped their pants.  They didn’t even bother to take off their shoes or their shirts.  Kids these days.

Lola: “Fuck me.”

“Fill me, fuck me, pump me, pound me, use me, abuse me, whip me, worship me,” said Lo, spreading her legs further, bending her knees and slapping her cum-slathered pussy.

One of the boys pulled her to the edge of the bed and penetrated her.  She briefly looked up at me, her head upside-down, from the bed, before her eyes rolled back.  The boy was rock hard and eager.  His brother stood by the bed watching, cock in hand, stroking, and patient.  Within moments, the first reached his climax inside her.

Pulling out, he stepped aside for his brother to have his chance.  Lo rolled over onto her hands and knees, raising her ass for him to have her.  He easily slid into her soaking holes.  I saw her wince just a little as he entered the tighter of the two.  But soon he was alternating back-and-forth at whim.  Now the other brother watched and, to my amazement, grew hard as he did so.  What amazing recovery time!

Lola: “Fill me.”

After the more active brother drove his point home in Lo’s rear, he pulled out and they both watched as Lo oozed, cooed, and creamed.

Then the first returned to the pole position.

I could see that Lo, by this point, was almost bored.  Her head was resting on her hands and she looked up at me, unconcerned about what was happening beyond her shoulders.

“Daddio,” she said, “will you pass me my phone?”

Her phone was on her nightstand on the other side of the bed, by the boys.  I walked around the bed, past the brother who was slamming his shaft deep into my hotwife’s pussy at the time, past the other brother who was eagerly awaiting his chance for another deep dive in her, and grabbed the phone.  I walked back around to the side of the bed by the door and passed it to Lo.

She pressed some buttons, preoccupied with the phone and not at all occupied with the activities behind her, and looked up at me again.  “If I order a pizza, what would you like on it?” she asked in a quiet voice, as if the boys and her bum were in another room and she didn’t want to disturb them.

It seemed a most unusual question for the moment.  I must have looked puzzled.  “I’m hungry,” she added by way of explanation.

“Mushrooms and onions,” I said unthinkingly.

“Oh, hi,” Lo said into her phone.  At the very same time, the first brother finished, ejaculating in long shots on Lo’s back.  I guess Lo was put on hold briefly because she was quiet for a moment.

The second brother asked Lo, “Do you want more?”  He was clearly confused by Lo’s phone call.

Lo turned her head over her shoulder and said, “Go ahead.  You can have it.  Try to be quick.”

I heard a voice from the phone ask, “Yes, can I help you?”

Lo’s attention was back to her pizza order as the boy behind her grabbed her hips and pulled them towards his erect phallus.  “Yeah, could I get one sausage pizza and one with onions and mushrooms?”

Lo Placing an Order for Pizza

The boy behind her returned to his favorite alternating ass/puss, ass/puss plunging.  I could see him spreading her cheeks with both hands as he pulled out and pressed in.

“Medium,” said Lo into the phone and then looking up at me she asked, “Medium big enough for you?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, two mediums,” she said into the phone again.  “OK.  Yes.  Delivery please.  Great.  Thank you.”  She hung up and put the phone by her side.

Allowing her head to fall into the pillow, she reached back and pulled her ass cheeks apart, allowing her paramour to use his hands in other ways.  He reached under her and grabbed her doughy tum and squeezed.

“You going to cum?” Lo asked.

He grunted.

I guess she could feel him building.  “Come on.  You got two in you, don’t you?  You like my ass?  You like it,” she said.  She moved her fingers to her ass and felt him sliding in and out of her.  He was ready.  She was giving him a hand-job as he entered and exited her posterior.  Lo’s instincts kicked in and she turned abruptly and opened her mouth to receive his fill.  He grabbed his cock with one hand and her head with the other, pulling her mouth onto his shaft.  He began to cum and then pulled out of her mouth and sprayed the rest on her face.  She was drenched.

She looked up at him and asked, “Feeling better?”

The first brother already had his pants on.  The second, who had just finished, reached down to pull up his from around his ankles.

“Thanks Lo,” he said.

“Say hi to your mom,” Lo said.

“Enjoy your dinner,” he replied.

They let themselves out.

Lo fell backwards and, lying on the bed, she looked up at me and asked, “Will you get the pizza and tip the delivery guy?”

“Maybe you should.”

She contemplated that idea.  “Like I am?”

“Exactly.”

Lola Filled, but not full

When the bell rang, she walked to the door, dripping from the boys’ icing on her face and shoulders, and, opening the door, took the two pizzas in hand and gave a few dollars in tip.

I awaited her return in the dining room.

“What was his reaction?” I asked as she placed the pizzas on the table.

She laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“It was a woman.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“What was her reaction?”

“A cross between shock and disgust.”

“Too bad.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were going for shock, awe, and arousal.”

“I’ll take disgust.”

She grabbed a slice of pizza.  No plate.  She didn’t even sit down.  She stood by the table, naked, and ate it with fervor.  “Sorry, Daddy,” she said, mouth full.

“Sorry for what?”

“What I said before.  You understand, though, don’t you?”

“Yes Lo,” I said, sincerely, not sarcastically.  I felt love, compassion, and patience.  “But,” I added, “you need to clean up Stoya and the sheets.”

“I will,” she said, obediently.

I had a slice of pizza and cracked open a beer.

“Is there a reason you had the boys rather than me?” I finally asked.

“Yes,” she said, with no explanation.  She continued eating.

“Care to enlighten me?”

“I like to be used.”

“You didn’t even cum.”

“No, because I wanted Meri.  But, I’ll cum later to the thought of them and this afternoon.”

“With me or without me?”

“If you’re lucky, both.”

After dinner, she strutted to the bedroom to clean up.  I followed.

“What a mess!” she said at the sight.  “Isn’t it wonderful?!”  She dove into the bed.  “It smells like sex.”

“Just like you,” I said sarcastically.

When she got up to strip (the bed that is, since she already was naked as the day she was born) I asked her, “Who was that man talking to you in the park?”

“Oh, him?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Just a creep.  He just wanted a closer look at me.”

“You sure gave it to him.”

“You saw?” she asked, flattered that I took in her stunning act.

“Yes, I saw.  What did he give you?”

“His business card.”

“What sort of business is he in?”

“He says he’s a photographer and he asked if I would be interested in any boudoir photography done of me.”

“Really?  Where’s his card?”

She bent over by the side of the bed and dug through her little beach bag.  “Here it is.”

She gave it to me.

“I see,” I said, reading it.  “You going to take him up on it?”

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to?”

“Let me think about it.  Did you and Meri have a good time?”

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s at home doing exactly what you just did.”

“Eating pizza?”

 

Bleach Bum

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Lola, Image by Julie Hill

Lo’s date with MILF Meri was Easter Sunday.  By Lo’s account, both of them had a great time and were eager to make the magic happen again.  But then, inexplicably, Meri ghosted Lo.  No response to email, nothing.

“I think she might be having randy remorse,” said Lo one morning while we were pondering the odd disappearance.

“What the hell is ‘randy remorse’?”

“You know – she was all randy to have a lesbian encounter.  She did it.  It was hot.  But she has a husband, three sons, a conventional, bougie, suburban, soccer-mom lifestyle to maintain.  She can’t fuck that all up for a little labial action.”

“Don’t you think that that’s a tad narrow-minded?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t mean her lack of follow-up.  I mean your explanation.”

“What?”

“In this day and age, women aren’t as boxed in as you make it sound.  I mean, a lot of couples are open to the wife playing around, especially with someone like you.”

“What does that mean, ‘someone like me’?”

“I just mean, younger, already in a relationship and therefore not clingy or a threat to the Stepford Wife, picture-perfect, wholesome family-Christmas-letter lifestyle.”

“So I’m just a Manic Pixie Dream Girl to her?”

“Precisely.”

“I think you’re making her situation out to be too simplistic.  You have no idea what the family dynamics are, what pressures she may feel, or her reasons for dropping me.”

“And neither do you.  So why should we keep speculating about it?”

We let it go and, other than Lo occasionally recounting her one sexcapade with MILF Meri while masturbating or copulating with me, she was all but forgotten.

Until one day during quarantine.

“Lo, I just wanted to check in on you and make sure you’re ok.”

That was it.  A one sentence, no explanation, wellness-check email from Meri.

Lo wrote back and tactfully, without accusation or spite, inquired why it had been so long since she had last heard from Meri.

Instead of responding immediately, it was over a week before Lo received a terse email in return.

“It’s complicated,” was the enigmatic reply.  “I’ll write more later.”

Again, another week elapsed before Lo got the following email:

 

Dear Lo,

 

I’m sorry I never followed up with you after we met last Easter.  Believe me, you were on my mind constantly.  However, I was feeling guilty about the circumstances of how we met.  I know you thought I was just responding to your ad, but it’s more complicated than that.  Can we meet in person to talk about it?

 

Meri

 

“Guilty about the circumstances of how we met?” said Lo to me, perplexed.

“Will you meet with her?”

“I have to.”

“What do you mean, you have to?”

“Don’t you want to know the answer to this mystery?”

“I suppose.”

The following weekend Lo dolled herself up.  It felt like a uniquely special occasion since, during the COVID crisis, Lo hadn’t had much reason to dress the part.  Indeed, as she chose and then dismissed various outfits, that’s exactly what it felt like – like she was an actress choosing the right outfit for a role.  This day she was going for the ‘innocent little college student’ role.  After many attempts at the right combination, she settled on a short skirt, no panties, a white knit sweater, no bra, and her cute little pumps.  I realized, maybe not quite for the first time, that Lo enjoys the theatrics of her dates as much as the action.

“Good luck, Love,” I said as she was breezing out the door.

“Luck?  I don’t need luck when I got this,” she said as she lifted the back of her skirt to reveal her bare ass.

“That’s true,” was all I could say as I etched the image on my brain.  “Remember,” I called to her as she walked away, “social distancing!”

Later that day, Lo strolled up the street back toward our apartment as I sat outside reading a book and drinking a G&T in the front yard.  I soaked in the way she perfected the picture before me as she sauntered on the sidewalk, the incarnation of summertime: bright, cheerful, without a care in the world, lackadaisical, unhurried, and delighting in being enjoyed by those she passed by.

She stopped before me.  “Hi,” she said with a big grin on her face.

“Hi,” I repeated back to her.

“Want to fuck?” she said, getting to the point.

“Am I breathing?”

We went right into the bedroom.  She bent over the bed, lifted up her skirt and I slid right into her wet and willing pussy.

It took a few thrusts before she was ready to recall for me her socially-distant-dalliance with MILF Meri, but I knew she’d come around after she had cum around two or three times.

I pulled out of her dripping hot hole and, still hard up, was lying on the bed, panting as I sweat, despite the AC blasting.

“You ok, ole man?”

“Don’t worry about me,” I said, “I’ve got lots more loving left in me.  But let’s take a little break and you can tell me why, exactly, you’re so needy.”

“But Daddy,” she said, batting her eyelashes at me, “I’m always needy.  I’m a nympho, remember?”

“Cut to the story, Lo.  I can see you aching to regale me with your reverie.”

“OK,” she said.  “Lie back and I’ll tell you.”

She was sitting naked on the bed next to me.  Her legs were crossed under her and she gently stroked my wet, rigid manhood as she spoke.

“Close your eyes,” she instructed.

I obeyed.

I felt her lips ease down my shaft.

“Lo, you can’t tell me what happened with a mouthful of my cock.”

“I know, Daddy,” she said after pulling up and releasing me.  “I just wanted a taste.”

“Of a woman?”

“Of me.  Now listen with your eyes closed.”

She then told me the following:

 

 

We met at the park by the river.  She was already there when I arrived.  It was crowded.  A lot of families, people picnicking, suntanning.  You know.  The usual for a gorgeous summer day during a global pandemic.

She was sitting on a little picnic blanket, clearly nervous, tense with anticipation about seeing me again.

When I got there, I unraveled my blanket too, took off my shoes, and sat a safe distance away from her, but within earshot.

I so wanted to kiss her on her full red lips and put my fingers through her full red hair.  But I was good, Daddy.

I sat crisscross, like I am now, but with my skirt just covering my modesty.  I didn’t wear a bra and so I’m sure she could make out my nipples through my sheer sweater.  I know she could because every guy I passed on the walk to her was glaring at my chest.  I enjoyed teasing her.  In fact, I enjoyed the whole distance thing more than I thought.  The torture of it all was exciting, I think, for both of us.

Anyhow, she had packed a little picnic basket, complete with a couple of bottles of chilled champagne and plastic glasses.  She poured me one and, after a few pleasantries, she told me her story.

‘Lo, do you remember our first few email exchanges?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ I said, thinking nothing special had been in them.

‘Well, I wrote to you and you assumed that I was responding to your ad.’

‘Weren’t you?’

‘That’s just the thing,’ she said, pausing and thinking how to tell me the next part.  ‘I didn’t even know you had an ad.’

‘How did you get my email?  How did you hear about me?’

‘I feel terrible about this.  I’m really sorry I led you on, or at least didn’t tell the truth right away.  I really didn’t mean to lead you on at all.’

I was very confused and I’m sure she could see it on my face.

‘You see, it started with my husband.’

‘He saw the ad?’

‘No, he found your blog somehow.  One night he left his computer on and fell asleep on the couch.’

‘Nothing good ever follows those words.’

‘I knew he had just jacked it.’

‘How did you know that?’

‘We’ve been married twenty-three years, Lo.  I know when he’s jacked off.’

‘OK.’

‘So I was curious.  I just wanted to see what was getting him off now.  And, instead of the usual porn vids that he watches to relieve stress, I found your blog!’

‘Really?’

‘Yes!  And I was fascinated by what I was reading.  I think it was Bleach Bum or something like that.’

‘Oh, I know what you mean,’ I said, a little embarrassed because that’s the story where you talk about anal bleaching and you put up a very prominent photo of my perineum.

Lola’s Blue Gem

 

“I believe it was more a photo of your asshole.”

“Must you be so vulgar?”

“I believe it was a photo of your anus.”

“That’s not any better!”

“It was a photo of your posterior analytics.”

“That sounds better.  But a little sterile.”

“It was a photo of your sweet, sweet. . .”

“Don’t you dare say sphincter!”

“How about your bottom’s belly-button?”

“Too confusing.”

“Can we please get back to your story?”

She continued:

 

She went on, ‘I wanted to read more, but I didn’t want Scott, that’s my husband, to know I was looking at his search history, so I logged out and signed into my account on the family’s desktop.  I read and read and looked at the photos of you and, well, I felt sexually aroused like I hadn’t in a long time!’

‘I have that effect on people.’

‘Mmmm,’ she moaned, looking at me, a little fear in her eyes, ‘to be honest, it was a combination of you, your photos, and the writing.’

 

“HA!” I shouted.

“Oh, calm down.”

“The writing!”

“Do you want to hear my story so you can write about it or what?”

“Well, now that she knows about the blog, it’s sort of breaking the fourth wall, isn’t it?”

“I’ll leave the literary devices to you.”

 

 

Meri continued, ‘I couldn’t get enough and then I saw that you had your email right there on the blog.  So I wrote to you.’

‘And I jumped to the conclusion that you must have read the ad.’

‘Yeah.  I was a little confused at first.  And then, to find out that we live in the same city, or at least pretty close to it!’

‘So that’s why you didn’t follow up with me for over a year?  Because of that little misunderstanding?’

‘No, no,’ she said.  ‘By the way, I read the story that H.H. wrote about our Easter encounter.’

‘Right, I guess you did.  Sorry that he was such a spy.’

‘That’s ok,’ she said, laughing a little, ‘It shows how much he loves you.’

‘Or what a perv he is!’

She waived her hand like it didn’t matter. ‘He wrote that you liked it.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you?  Did you really?’

‘Of course I did.  Did you disappear because you thought I didn’t?’

‘No, that wasn’t it.  I was eager to do it again – and more!’

‘So what happened?’

At this point, it was getting warm and both of us had had about two glasses of Champagne.  I stretched out my legs and so did she.  Our feet were touching at the end of our blankets.  It was cute and quite erotic – just touching toes like that.

‘Um, well, uh,’ she stumbled, ‘it gets a little more complex.  A little more confusing.’

‘What does?’

‘For a while both Scott and I were reading and getting off to your blog, but separately.  He had no idea that I was reading it.’

‘OK.  Don’t tell me he wants to fuck me too?’

‘Well, he probably does.  That’s not the problem.’

I was so confused.

‘Lo, do you remember getting some fan mail a while ago?’

‘I get a lot of fan mail.’

‘Well, this was special.  It had an illustration.  It was from a mom.  It was about a shared computer and. . .’

‘THAT was YOU?!’ I shot at Meri when the pieces fit together.

Meri’s face had turned almost as red as her hair.  ‘Do you want to leave?  Do you hate me?  I’m so ashamed.’

At that moment, though she was much older, she seemed so scared, so vulnerable.  I just rubbed her feet more with my feet and consoled her.

‘Was it just that one time?’ I asked after a long pause.

‘I wish I could say it was.’

‘You mean you. . . ?’

‘He likes me to help him.  Other than you, it’s our secret.’

 

 

“Wait.  Wait,” I said in disbelief.  “You’re saying that Meri is the mom who wrote to us about finding the blog on her husband’s computer and fapping to it and then, later, when she was found out by her son, used it as ‘a teachable moment’?”

“One-and-the-same.”

“Oooooohhhhhh,” I said.  “That explains a lot.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why’d she send that email and not say that it was from her?”

“I think she was embarrassed, but she was trying to tell me why she was M.I.A.”

“A little coded message?”

“Yeah.  Not the clearest communication.”

“Did she actually expect you to figure it out?”

“I don’t think so.  It wasn’t even from the same email address as she had used before.  I think she wanted to gauge my reaction to it.  When you wrote about it without being judgmental, I think it gave her a little more courage.”

“Well what happened next?”

“We talked a little more, just catching up on the past year.  I then lifted up my knees so that she could have a good, direct look at my smooth, gleaming pussy.  Very discretely she extended her leg between my legs and tickled my pussy lips with her toe.”

“That doesn’t sound like you were six feet apart.”

“She has long legs.  Anyhow, she was very turned on by it.  She wanted to touch herself, but couldn’t out there in public.  So we ended sort of abruptly.  We wanted to see more of each other, but she also wanted to cum.  I bet she touched herself in the car on the way home.”

“Lo, this is some fucked-up shit.  Back when you were fooling around with Hunter, a married man, you were playing with fire.  Now you’re playing with gasoline, tanks of oxygen, and matches.”

“I know, I know,” she said, actually distraught.  “But she’s so fucking hot!”

“Heat is the last ingredient you need with gasoline, tanks of oxygen, and matches.”

“OK!  I get it.”

“And what happens when they all read this entry of the blog together?  KABOOM!”

“You just won’t write about it.”

“To hell I won’t!”

“Well, you won’t publish it until I get myself out of this mess.”

“Agreed.  But you will get yourself out of it, won’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, reluctantly.

“Cause if you don’t, this will get you in the ass and it will hurt more than that ‘Bleach Bum.’”

We both laughed at Meri’s misremembering the title of that blog post.

“Kiss it, Daddy,” she said, bending over.  “Make me feel better.”

“You’re lucky I’m so madly in love with you Lo.  You know that?”

“You like my bleach bum?”

“Like it?  Love it!  Want it,” I said as I pulled her close to me.

Lola, Illustration by Jeremy Young

10 Yoga Poses

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[We offer here a sneak peek at the article just released in Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, September 2020 Issue.  Here is ENM’s editor’s introduction to the story:

Hermann Humbert, writer for www.mysexlifewithlola.com and husband to beautiful hotwife Lola Down has been contributing stories about Lola’s exploits with us for months… this one may be the hottest one yet!!! You can read this story in its entirety right now in our September issue of ENM Magazine on Kindle, or we will publish it as a Patreon exclusive later this month.

Illustrations by H.H.]

Ten Yoga Poses

Dear Reader, you may recall that Roy and Gary are the young, twenty-something brothers from across the street with whom Lo has become acquainted back before COVID-19 shuttered us all in.  She seems to enjoy toying with them the way one might with two adorable puppies.  One day, not long ago, as things began reopening, she amused herself by going on a date with them to do some clothes shopping.

They went to a nearby mall and they followed her as she bounced from store to store trying on skirts, blouses, dresses, and shoes.  She would make them wait close to the dressing room to render an opinion for her.  Unless it was two thumbs up, or rather, four thumbs up and two cocks up, she didn’t make a purchase.  This scratched two itches for Lo: 1) flirting in the flesh and; 2) shopping.

This little tease titillated her and the boys for hours.

She told me all about it, eager to arouse my jealousy, when I got home from work, but she was let down when she realized that I was quite pleased with her excursion because it saved me countless hours of waiting by the dressing room for her to toggle back and forth between her natural impulse to purchase and her attempt to avoid buyer’s remorse.

“I bet you’d like to see me toggling back and forth between Roy’s dick and Gary’s,” she said, latching onto that word which placed the naughty image in her dirty mind.

“If it makes you happy,” I said, appearing aloof and disinterested in her foolish frolics.

She stomped her foot out of frustration and beat her fists on my chest, playfully.

“You will change your tune!” she said.

“My tune?  What will be my tune?”

“I Want You.”

“You do?  I thought you wanted your two boy-toys.”

“No, silly.  I Want You, by the Beatles.  That will be your tune.”

“You know, the subtitle to that song is, ‘She’s so Heavy’”

She flipped me the bird and said, “Of course you would know that.”

“But I think you’re just right.”

“So do the boys,” she added.  “Finally, a package deal: FOBO.”

“What is ‘FOBO’?”
“Fuck one, blow one.”

“I see.  And here I thought you just liked the company while you shopped.”

“I do!” she said enthusiastically.  “And I got this,” she said as she pranced around the room like an exotic dancer on stage.

“What?” I asked, befuddled.

“These,” she said, prancing around some more, her hands on her hips.

“Your hips?”

“No, silly.  These jeans.  They’re $250 jeans, but you’d never guess what I got them for.”

Lola’s New Jeans

“You blew a kiss to the shop clerk.”

“No.  Don’t be daft.”

“You blew the shop clerk.”

“If only.  But he was clearly not into my type.”

“Slutty?”

“I’m offended.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.  I meant, horny with a young man on each arm.”

“No.  He wasn’t into women at all.”

“I see.”

“Don’t you want to know what I got them for?”

“Who, the two young men?”

“No!  The jeans.”

“Oh, right.  What did you get them for?”

“It doesn’t matter now.  What matters is what I’ll get out of them for.”

“What will you get out of them for?”

“The two brothers.  They’re coming over.”

As she said that, there was a knock at the door.  I answered it and let in Roy and Gary, not knowing who was who.  Once they were in, Lo blurted out, “They say I need some caulk.”

“What?”

“Yeah, a lot of caulk.”

“Really?”

“Yes, to fill all the holes.”

“How’s that?”

“They just stick it in there and out it comes.  Voila!  There might be some overflow, but we can just wipe that up.”

“Sounds like you know what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I’ve handled caulk before.”

“You have?”

“Oh yeah.  Lot’s of times.  I’m practically a pro with caulk.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep.  One hand.  Even two!”

During this whole performance, the boys just stood around and looked on dumbly.

“Where’s the bathroom?” one of them asked.

“Right down the hall there,” I said, pointing to it.

“And the caulk?” asked the other.

“I thought you two brought your own,” I said.

“No, silly,” said Lo.  She then went into our little tool drawer and pulled it out, along with a caulk gun, a box cutter, a sponge and a bucket.”

“Here you go,” she said to the other brother.

“Oh, caulk!” I said, with enthusiasm.  “I thought you were talking about. . . ah, never mind.”

“Yeah, what did you think we were talking about?” asked Lo, as if she hadn’t meant to confuse me all along.

She led the second boy down the hall and showed him the seam where the tub meets the tile and how discolored it had become.

The two boys set to work while Lo went into the adjacent master bedroom and slipped out of her jeans.  She wore only her thong and her blouse.  They were unaware until she called into the bathroom and offered a cool drink.  The boys looked up, dumbfounded.

Lola’s Thong and Blouse

“Uh, sure,” said one of them.

“Two lemonades ok?”

“Fine,” said the other, drawing out the vowel as if talking about Lo and not the lemonade.

Lo turned and went to the kitchen to grab the drinks for the boys.

“Don’t turn up the heat too much,” I said to her.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked like Scarlett O’Hara from Gone with the Wind.

She turned tail and walked away from me.  I followed just to see what would happen next.

She went into the bathroom and bent over to the kneeling brothers and handed them the drinks.  “Oh, that looks much better!” she said of their job.  Truth be told, it was a hack job by two amateurs.  That didn’t matter to Lola.  That was strictly beside the point.  All the more reason to invite a professional contractor in and give him an encore performance of her Emmy Award winning act.

The boys, clearly distraught at the difficulty of the task and the distraction of Lo, wiped the little sweat from their brows and drank the lemonade.

“Maybe now that you fixed that so quickly, you two could help me with something else,” she said.  I was very curious what she had in mind, as were our two fix-it men.

Lo crawled across the bed, her ass cheeks seductively contorting like a proud lynx prancing before her prey.  She got to the edge, her top half disappeared off the side of the bed, and then reemerged with her Hitachi.  She looked over at the captivated cherubs and said, “I don’t know if the motor blew out or what, but I can’t seem to get it to turn on.”

The boys practically fumbled over each other trying to get to her.  As they did, she cast me a knowing look.  She had just used the masturbatory machine that morning.

One of the boys held it, flipping the switch on and off to no avail as the other inspected the wire.  Both of them stood over Lo’s prostrate body on the bed.  She smiled up at them.

“Did I overdo it?” she asked.  If there was a portmanteau that combined ‘innocently’ with ‘guiltily,’ like the word frenemy, then that would be how she asked that question.  And what a frenemy she was to me just then!

One of the boys flipped a switch on the power cord under the bed and the giant white ball began vibrating ferociously in the other’s hand.

“You did it!” squealed Lo.

“Yeah,” said the one who flipped the switch.  “You must have tripped the circuit breaker on this,” he said, holding up the power cord and showing Lo the emergency shut off button (that I’m sure Lo purposely shut off for just this reason).

“Oh, I see,” she said.  “Thanks!”  She spread her legs wide, indicating where the vibrating ball of the Hitachi should go.

The one holding it eventually got the hint.  He placed it between her legs, over her thong.

“Yeah,” said Lo lustily.

He let it rest there for a while.  Lo rotated her hips to get the vibrations where she wanted them.

“Turn it on hi-power,” she instructed.  He obeyed.  Lo raised her hips and pulled down her bra.  The other brother reached down and began pinching her nipples as Lo cupped her tits with her hands.

“Yeah,” she moaned again, “do that.”  Lo slowly unbuttoned her blouse and then removed it to let him see and touch her breasts.

She looked up at the boys and asked, “You two have been under strict quarantine?”

“Yes,” replied one of them.

“No going out?  No seeing anyone?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” said the other, “not for the past two or three months.”

“No girlfriends?”

They both laughed a little.  “Even if we had girlfriends, which we don’t, our mom would never let us see them.  Not during this pandemic.”

Lo ran her tongue over her teeth as she looked up, her head very close to their bulging cocks.  “So, you two haven’t been able to. . .”  Before she finished her sentence, she grabbed the Hitachi and manipulated it to flip her switch and, without warning she was convulsing, cursing, and cumming with a wave of wetness flowing over her thong, soaking the bed covers.  All the time, I watched in silence from the doorway.

The two guys gawked at Lo’s percolations.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” she said to the two of them when she caught her breath.

Each of them looked over at me standing in the doorway, smirking just a little at Lo’s mode of flirtation.

She slid out of her soaked panties and asked, “Who’s first?” as she spread her legs wide and smacked her pussy.

One of the boys pulled down his pants and pulled out his cock.  He was large and very hard.

Lo licked her lips at the sight of it.  She turned on her tum.

Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose

  1. Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose

She rotated horizontal on the bed and got into the anahatasana, or melting heart pose, protruding her ass over the side of the bed prominently, while her arms were stretched out far in front of her head.

The boy whose pants were down – Roy or Gary? – slid in and Lo showed her appreciation with a long low moan.  As he was sliding in and out of her, his brother dropped his pants around his ankles.  He tapped out his brother and tapped into Lo with enthusiasm.  Lo seemed to enjoy the change of length, girth, and rhythm.  His brother stood next to him spreading Lo’s ass wide apart for his brother’s easy access.

Without warning, Lo’s body involuntarily squeezed him out – the first physiological sign that she’s about to have a violent squirting orgasm.

“You’re going to have to ride that pony better than that if you want to stay in the saddle,” I jibed, knowing full well how difficult it is to avoid slip-sliding out when her trap squeezes shut.

“Let me try,” said the other brother, thinking he’d have the superior technique.  He slid right in after Lo’s sprinkle (which soaked all the clothes on the floor) had subsided.

Bitilasana – Cow Pose

  1. Bitilasana – Cow Pose

Lo propped her torso up on both arms and her back made a concave curve causing her ass to protrude upward.  She used her arms to push backward to meet the boy’s thrusts.  Bang, bang, bang he bounced off of her butt.  Smack, smack, smack she slid down on his rod, her tits flailing forward and back with the rapid back-and-forth of her torso.  I should mention that, unlike in the first position, when she had her head down, facing the bed, now she was looking directly at me as she took the shocks from behind.  Our eyes were locked and she was feeding off of how much delight I took in her sexual prowess.

“Fuck me!” she commanded over her shoulder, as if he wasn’t giving it his all already.  “Come on, can’t you do better than that?”  She was just taunting him now.  I knew very well that she wasn’t used to this sort of rough ride.  The poor young fellow put so much force into it that I was worried he might pull a muscle in his back.

I saw Lo’s fingers curl up and clutch the bed sheets as if she were hanging on vertically to the bed, trying not to fall.  I saw her toes curl and I knew what was about to happen.

Sure enough, she shot contestant #2 right out of her convulsing cunt just as forcefully as she ejected the first one, followed by a torrent of orgasmic flow.

The two brothers watched, amazed at the quantity and velocity of her ejaculation.

Balasana – Child Pose

  1. Balasana – Child Pose

Lo curled up her knees under her and stretched her arms out far in front of her, tucking her head down between her arms as she caught her breath.  The boys were polite enough to give her the time she needed to recuperate.  They stood there, flanking her naked body, like silent sentinels at attention, their spears raised.

“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I instructed them, breaking my silence.

“What?”

“Slide your hand over her soaking snatch,” I repeated.

The kid did what I said.

“Now, use that to rub around her asshole.”

“Daddy,” Lo objected.  She doesn’t like vulgarity to be used about her body.

“Around her special spot,” I corrected myself.

The kid did as he was told.  Lo moaned.

“Slide it in, gently.  Not too quickly.”

This kid needed step-by-step diagrams.

Lo moaned again.

“When she feels loose, insert two fingers.  She likes that.”

“Loose?” Lo asked, looking up at me from the bed.

“Relatively loose,” I corrected.

Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose

  1. Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose

Lo extended her arms out in front of her and lifted her ass up in the air for the boys to have it closer to their level.  Her knees were still tucked under her torso.  One of the brothers was wiggling his finger in her rear.  He eventually added a second finger.  The other brother held his cock in his hand, gawking awkwardly.

Lo was making small circles with her ass.  She moved one hand and slapped her ass cheek hard.  She did it again.  She looked back over her shoulder, enjoying the view of the brother with his cock in his hand.

Eventually she began to inch backwards, sliding off of the bed.

Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose

  1. Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose

Standing, Lo bent over at the hip, deeply plunging her torso down toward the floor as the young fella plunged his two fingers deeply in her ass.

“That’s enough,” said Lo.  “Fuck my ass.”

Both boys looked bewildered at the bounty of benefits they were getting.  The one who had been holding his cock took the lead and slid it right into her accommodating back door.

As he was going at her, Lo put her hands around her ankles and held the pose perfectly.  Though I couldn’t see from my vantage point, I imagine that she was looking up at the action from down below.

Eventually the other brother maneuvered onto the bed and sat in front of Lo.  Lo pulled up her torso out of the folded pose and placed her mouth on the boy’s rigid cock, sucking and slurping.  I was very impressed with the endurance both these youths had.

Malasana – Garland Pose

  1. Malasana – Garland Pose

Lo was very capable of bringing the brother before her to climax, but she was very careful not to.  Instead, she pulled forward, leaving Mr. Backdoor standing firm.  She lifted her lips up off of the cock they had covered with wet caresses, and she climbed up on the bed.

“You,” she said.  I think she was as confused as to who was Gary and who was Roy as I was.  “You, come here,” she commanded like a director on set before a shot.  She placed him flat on the bed, his staff protruding upward.

She straddled him, facing him.  Her hands grabbed her ass cheeks and spread them wide apart as she slowly lowered herself down on his eager erection, penetrating deep into her pussy.  She remained on her feet over him.

“You,” she instructed to the other brother, Mr. Backdoor.  “Get behind me and back in my ass,” she said, still spreading her ass cheeks apart.

He responded rapidly, hopping on the bed and, on his knees, sliding up and in her awaiting hole.

Now she had both brothers inside her.  She extended her hands in front of her to keep her balance and their pistons alternated in-and-out of her like a two-cylinder engine.  She moved her right hand down to her clit and began circling her bean.  Knowing Lola as I do, I knew that this move always preceded —————-

There it is!  Like a whale spout going off, her high pressure pussy precipitated all over the boy beneath her accompanied by her tirade of Tourette’s-like string of profanities.  I think she actually scared both boys.

Ustrasana – Camel Pose

  1. Ustrasana – Camel Pose

The boy behind her slipped out of her ass as Lo was drenching his brother caught between her legs.  Lo, thinking he was on the cusp of cumming himself, turned around rapidly and enveloped his cock with her mouth, taking it deep into her throat.  She could feel how powerfully the pressure was building.  At precisely the right moment, she pulled off his cock, drooped her head back, and grabbed onto her ankles with her hands, displaying her chest prominently for the young man to douse with his abundant display of gratification.

Covered in one brother’s cum, the second brother still lying between her spread legs, Lo leaned forward to lick clean any remnants of the first brother’s ejaculate.  But then she devoted her full attention to the second brother.

Lo turned over, and lay on the boy’s sculpted torso, slathering him in the cum that was on her breasts.  She kissed the brother on the lips, open mouth, and slid, kissing her way down his neck, shoulders, chest, stomach, and right down to his rock-solid passion pillar.

When her mouth had alighted on the object of her desire, she turned to the other brother and said, “Hold it for me.”

“What?” he asked in disbelief.

“Hold his cock for me.”

Having been the beneficiary of Lo’s abundant generosity, he obliged.  He reached out with his right hand and held his brother’s phallus firmly for Lo to lavish attention on it with her labia.

Marjaryasana – Cat Pose

  1. Marjaryasana – Cat Pose

Lo was on her knees, supporting herself with her arms, drooping her head down and lightly licking the tip of the youth’s cock as his brother controlled the large limb with his right hand, circling it around Lo’s lips and slapping it on her cheek, just the way she likes.

Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose

  1. Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose

Lo said, “Get up.”  The boy who’s tip she was teasing, looked momentarily stunned.  A questioning look appeared in his eyes.  But, by now he should have known better than to question Lo.  He sat up.  “All the way,” said Lo.

He got up.  Lo took his place, lying flat on her back.  She spread her legs wide, lifting them in the air, and grabbing her toes with her hands.  Her pussy, drenched and glistening, clean shaven, and pink, was spread wide.

“Stand there,” she said, indicating right in front of her, between her legs.

The youth was on his knees, his cock raring to plunge into Lo’s gorgeous glazed open pussy.

“You like what you see?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to cum?”

“No.”

“Good.  Fuck me, then,” she said.

He got up and into her.  Her arms and legs enveloped his body.  Her face turned toward me.  “Daddy,” she said as she received rapid thrusts from the youth.

“Yes,” I responded.

“I’m thirsty.”

I disappeared to the kitchen where I got Lo a large glass of ice water.  I returned with it.  The boy was pounding her, oblivious of my movements.  Lo reached out with her left hand and took the water from me.  Her forehead was sweating.  Her hair matted down in front.  She gulped the water as the boy continued his enthusiastic jousts at her cunt.  I could tell that by this point, she wasn’t even feeling him, she was so wet and wide.

After she returned the water to me, she pushed the boy back, interrupting his irreverent attempts to cum inside her.

“Are you about to cum now?” Lo asked as he sat on his haunches in front of her, between her legs.

“I’m close,” he said.

“Grab it,” she instructed, but not to him, to his brother.

He took his brother’s hard cock in his hand.

“Jack him off.  I want him to cum right here,” said Lo, slapping her pussy.

The two went at it, cock-in-hand, as Lo spread her lower lips with her fingers and slid a few deep inside.

“You like seeing me fuck myself?” she asked.

The boys couldn’t answer.  They were mesmerized.

“You like how much of a slut I am?  You like that I fucked you both right here in front of my man?  You like my pussy?  You like my ass?” she asked as she began fingering her special spot for them.

Suddenly, without any warning, the youth ejaculated with more force, volume, and velocity than I had ever seen.  He covered Lo from head to pussy in his cum as his brother encouraged the multiple eruptions of his quaking cock.

“That’s it,” said Lo.  “That’s it.  Cum.  Good boy.  Cum all over me.  Yeah.”

Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose

  1. Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose

When the brother finally completed his composition on Lo’s canvas, he smiled, obviously very pleased with himself.  Lo smiled too and she bent her knees and curled her back a bit, pulling at her toes with her hands.

“Daddy,” she said.

“Yes Lo?”

“May I have my glass dildo please?”

I opened the night table drawer and pulled out “Glindo,” her glass dildo, and handed it to her.

She inserted it slowly in her wet pussy.

“Um,” said one of the boys, “we had better get going.”

“OK,” said Lo as she masturbated.

“This was fun,” said the other boy.

Lo was moaning at this point.

The boys were putting on their soaking wet clothes.

“Just tell your mom that you washed our car,” I said.

“Right,” said one of the boys.

“Bye Lo,” said the other one.

“Bye,” said his brother.  “And thanks!”

Lo was too self-absorbed to respond.

 

The Female Gaze

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Lo at the Beach

It was a hot July day.  The entire week was heavy with humidity.  Lo, working from home, without any AC, had to, just had to, work in either only her panties and a bra or nothing at all.  It made for very interesting Zoom calls.

Finally the weekend was here and we were going to get out of the sticky stale air of the city and cool off at the beach.

As usual, we got a late start due to Lo cycling through all of her various bikini tops and bottoms to find just the perfect match.

I loaded up the cooler, full of ice, beer, and snacks into the car.

I packed away the folding chairs.

I took nearly as much time picking just the right reading material as Lo took choosing her outfit.

But we were on the road by ten.

The beach is about an hour’s drive from our apartment, but when we got there, the parking lot was already overflowing.  No more cars allowed.  The line was a half mile long to get in.

We pulled up on the side of the road and just looked at the scene before us.  Refreshing blue water on the horizon only a few hundred yards away.  A yellow strip of soft sand filled with weekenders like ourselves.  A narrow boardwalk.  Then the steamy blacktop creating a wavelike transparent curtain between us, waiting and baking in the near noonday sun, and the inviting scene.

As we waited there, perspiring, at a loss for what to do, two young women in bikinis and thongs showing a lot of cheek walked past us.

“Don’t look!” commanded Lo.

How was I to avoid the sight.  They were directly in front of where we were parked (illegally) and not going anywhere.

“Just don’t look,” she said.

The two women were at a watering stand where they washed the sand from their feet and sandals.  They splashed about cheerfully.  As I did my best to avoid looking at them, Lo reached down under her bikini bottom and began flicking the bean.

“Lo, what are you doing?”

Book Review

“You can’t look, but I can.”

“Look all you want, but. . .”

“What?  I’m not allowed to touch?  You can look at me if you must look somewhere.”

That I did.  I watched her watching the near naked nymphettes through the frame of the windshield.

Though Lo is significantly younger than I, she’s old enough to regard those two girls splashing around as mere “nymphettes,” as Vladimir would say.  Yet she’s also still young enough herself to make the thirty-something year old moms jealous.

I was sweating, even with all the windows down.  Lo, too, was perspiring.  I could see the beads of perspiration collecting between her breasts.  They grew into large dew drops and then collected together into a stream that ran down, under her bikini top, over her tum, and to the pool between her legs where her right hand was rapidly racing to the finish line.

“Hurry up, Lo, it’s hot,” I said.

“Shhhhhh,” she angrily responded.

I furtively looked up to see what the girls were doing.  They were still splashing in the water.  Minutes seemed like hours.

Lo’s hair was matting down with perspiration.  Her brow was dripping.  Her fingers still rapid-fire stroking.

I could see, as I looked at Lo in the passenger seat, two young men walking our way on the dirt path beside the road.

“Lo,” I said.

“I’m almost there.”

“Lo,” I repeated a little more urgently.

“I know, you’re hot, but just give me. . .”  She was fixated on the vignette of vaginas dancing in the cool water.

Lo playing

“Lo!”

Too late, the boys were at her window.

“Um, excuse me, but you can’t park here,” one of them said.  They were lifeguards and had the unfortunate job of patrolling the area.

As he gently spoke, Lo was startled and screamed, “WHAT?!”  Her hand was still down her bikini bottom, grasping her hooch rather than stroking it now.

“I’m sorry,” said the young man, almost putting his head in the window, “but we can’t let you park here.”

Lo looked up at him.  He was young, handsome, and fit.  His partner’s crotch in the Speedo bathing suit was right at the same level as Lo’s face and she had a full-frontal view of his bulge.

Her fantasy, or whatever was happening in her head, had to make an abrupt change of course from the two girls to the two boys.  If there were a soundtrack to our scenario, then you would hear the scratch of the needle as the music did a 180 from “Girl Crush” to Janet Jackson’s “All for You.”

Lo was simultaneously embarrassed and excited.  It was one of the few times she didn’t have any words for the occasion.  She just looked up, slack-jawed, panting in the heat.

Seeing the predicament unfold before me like a car wreck in slow motion, I took the initiative and leaned over and said, “She’s just getting off.”

“What?” asked the young man.

“I said, I’m just letting her off.  She’s hopping out now as I go park the car in town.  Right Lo?”

She looked at me.  She didn’t want to stop diddling, but she had no choice.  She pulled her hand out of her bikini bottom and smiled at the boys.  “Right,” she said.

“Don’t forget your phone, your towel, and your sunscreen,” I said as she got out of the car.

“Oh, that’s ok,” said one of the two fellas by the car, giving permission for something that was going to happen anyway.

Lo slowly got out of the car.  She opened up the rear passenger door to get the stuff and bent over to get it.  The bottom half of her body was outside the car, the top inside.  She looked at me and whispered, “I’m squirting!”

“Lucky boys,” I said.

She stood, frozen for a moment in the heat.  I could see her chest getting flush, as were her cheeks.  Probably her ass cheeks too.

She grabbed a few items and said, “Don’t be long.”

“Long and hard, Lo, I’ll be long and hard.  I’ll see you later Ms. Soggy Bottom”

She got out of the car and walked across the street.  I watched her, as did the boys.  I could see her bikini bottoms were soaked.  She got to the fountain where the girls had been and refreshed herself in it.  The girls had since walked away.

Forty-five minutes later, drenched in sweat, exhausted, I returned by foot to the beach after driving over a mile away to find a legal parking spot.

I found Lo on the beach, lying out.  “Hey Daddio,” she said to me, happy to see me, but with another request at the ready, “It’s pretty warm out here and I’m getting hungry.  Do you think we could get some lunch?”

I couldn’t believe it.  I thought I was going to pass out right there.

“Do you mind if I take a quick dip to cool off?” I asked, not about to wait for her reply.

I removed my shirt as she said, “If you must.”  She was only partly joking.

The water revived me, but it felt so good that I could have stayed in all day.

“I’ll wait here.  Call me when you get close,” she said as I began my walk to pick up the car.  “Don’t be long!”

“Long and soft, long and soft,” I thought, as I grumbled walking away.

Thirty minutes later, I picked her up and we went to our favorite restaurant on the water.  It has a roof deck bar.

Once we were seated and had ordered drinks, I asked Lo how her time on the beach (without me) was.

“It was ok.  A lot of voyeurs.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“It’s different with me.”

“How exactly?”

“The female gaze.”

“The female gaze is no different from the male gaze, especially if the female who is gazing at other females is simultaneously fapping off in public to the sight.  If I were to do that, I would have been arrested!”

“No, you’d be dead first because I would have killed you.”

“Yet you get away with it.”

“Exactly.  Now you’re catching on.  The female gaze, it’s just different from the male gaze.”

“Only because society treats it differently.”

“Well, there must be a reason for that.”

“There is.  It’s called patriarchy.  The laws are made, enforced, and interpreted by men.  And men are perverts who find the thought of a woman flicking her bean fascinating and the thought of a man stroking his cock criminal.”

“There you have it.”

“So you’re buying into the patriarchy?”

“No.  Never.  I’m contributing to its eventual demise by exposing its internal contradictions.”

“You’re exposing something,” I said just as our waiter brought out our cool, tall drinks.

“Anyhow,” said Lo after a long sip, “the voyeurs were laser focused on me.”

“I bet you had to beat them off with a stick!”

“I like that idea,” she said, daydreaming, “but no.  They all maintained a proper social distance.”

“Did you see the two guys who interrupted you?”

“No, I didn’t.  Maybe they saw me, but I didn’t notice them.”

“You liked that, didn’t you?”

“What, Daddy?” she asked with a faux innocence.

“Getting caught.”

“No, I was right on the edge!”

“I know.  And getting caught put you over the edge.”

“Well, I have the opposite problem from a lot of men.”

“How so?”

“I hear that men who masturbate too much. . .”

“What’s too much?” I interrupted her.  “This should be good coming from you.”

“Well, very frequently, let’s say.  Those men find it increasingly more difficult to climax.  But with me, the more I do it, the easier I cum.  It’s becoming a problem.”

“How so?”

“Remember the time in the gym?”

I did.  She had had an accidental squirting orgasm while working out.  “Has that happened again?”

“Not exactly, but it doesn’t take much.  It’s like I’m becoming incontinent.  Just walking down the street could result in a downpour.  A hairpin trigger.  And I’m not sure how to prevent it.  What do you think?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“No, Depends, the adult diaper.  That’s what I think.”

“Oh, Daddy.  Don’t be silly.”

“I’m the silly one?  Maybe you should stop your self-pleasure.”

“Don’t be absurd!”

“Then I have no solution for you.  Carry a bottle of water everywhere you go just in case.  You can always say you spilled.”

Our lunch was brought out and I continued the conversation, “Do you think you could make yourself accidentally squirt right now?”

“What about ‘accidental’ don’t you understand?  It’s involuntary.  If I try to do it, it’s not an accident.  But, just so you know, if I wanted to, I certainly could cum and squirt right now.  And I’m not talking some Meg Ryan fake orgasm.  I’m talking gushing waterfalls from between my legs onto the wood floor beneath my chair.”

“Do it,” I dared her.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because, I don’t want to.  I have agency, you know.”

“I thought that accidental squirting orgasms removed your agency.”

“Only in that one respect.”

“Well, I give you all due respect.”

“As you should.”

We ate our lunch and then, having properly patronized the restaurant and taking the receipt as proof, I chose to leave the car in the parking lot as Lo and I returned to the adjacent beach.  I carried all the chairs, towels, and drinks.  She walked like a goddess before me.

As we were walking to a secluded section of the strand, we happened across one of the lifeguards walking in front of us.  He was, like most lifeguards, in very good shape.  His bathing suit was nonchalantly drooping down, revealing a bit of his untanned rear.

“Mmmmmm,” Lo purred, audibly enough for me to hear her.

“Go after him, if that’s what you want,” I said.

“Oh Daddy,” she cried, putting her arm around me and squeezing my ass, “you’re the only one who gets my engine revving.”

“Really?  I couldn’t get you to turn over this morning.”

“Well, my engine doesn’t start before eight.”

“Half the day is gone by then.”

We continued walking toward the cool shore and we passed four young women, two of whom were, as Lo loves to say, ‘stick-skinny-blondes.’  She has always and continues to believe, mistakenly, that I would run with abandon after an upside-down straw broom in a bikini, thinking it was a ‘stick-skinny-blonde’ woman.

“You must be enjoying the three B’s,” she said to me.

“Three B’s?”

“Blondes, Boobs, and Butts.”

“I appreciate the scenery,” I said, purposefully looking out at the horizon and not at the women.  “I give thanks for beauty in all its manifold forms.”

“If you want them, have them.  Be my guest.  Go for it.”

“You propose to me one day and dispose of me the next.”

“Propose to you?!”

“Yes, you’re constantly asking me to marry you.”

“No.  I’m asking why you won’t marry me.”

“I’ve told you so many times already, if we never marry, there’s a zero percent chance of our getting divorced.”

“The only isle you’ll walk down with me is the chips and snacks isle of the supermarket.”

“Oh, don’t say that.  You know damn well that if I got down on one knee right here and proposed to you, you’d say no.”

“That’s true, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to try.”

I dropped everything I was carrying and got down on one knee in the sand and took her hand in mine.  “Will you marry me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you’re not even looking in my eyes, you’re looking at my crotch.”

“That’s the part that I wish to enter into. . . holy matrimony.”

“Well, the clam shack is closed.”

I stood up again and we spread our towels and set up our chairs right on the spot that I proposed to her.  How romantic!  Finally, I was able to relax just a little bit.

She was still sore about the gaggle of girls we had passed.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“I just feel so fat compared to them,” she said, grabbing her tummy roll and squeezing it.  “I feel like a Jell-O Jiggler.”

Lo Roll

“Lo, please.”

I reached over and grabbed her tum.

“What are you doing?”

“Touching my favorite part of you.”

“My least favorite part.”

“Agree to agree with me.”

We at least let the matter drop.

Once we were comfortable, Lo took out her phone, I took out my book.  She was lying on her tum, her feet dangling in the air, as she scrolled through whatever it was that had her attention.  A few moments later she turned to me and said, “Do you mind if Kaylee and her new boyfriend join us?”

“What?”

“Kaylee, remember Kaylee?”

Oh yes, I remembered Kaylee alright.  Lo had had a fling with her and her previous boyfriend.  I just didn’t understand how or why they would be joining us.

“She’s here!  On this beach,” Lo added.

“How do you know?”

“She just posted a pic of herself here and I reached out to her.”

“Oh, so you had already invited them to join us before asking me?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said in her conciliatory little girl voice.  “I thought you’d enjoy seeing her in what she’s wearing.”

“And what is she wearing?” I asked.

“Not much,” she said, showing me the image on her phone.

Kaylee was only in a very skimpy blue bikini.

“Well, I guess they can swing by,” I conceded reluctantly.  “But they need to be six feet away.  COVID Times, you know.”

“I know.”

As we waited for them to arrive, I taunted Lo with, “So, will Kaylee also come under your ‘female gaze’?”

“I don’t know if she’ll cum, but I might,” she retorted.

“Funny.”

“You know,” she said, schooling me, “the ‘female gaze’ isn’t simply when a woman oogles a man or a woman as an object the way men oogle women as objects.”

“Oh no?  What is it professor?”

“It’s a term of art to describe the point of view of a woman that gets at the interior life, thoughts, feelings, emotions of the woman.”

“That’s what the male gaze is too,” I said.  “However, it just so happens that men are simply one-dimensional, shallow, and single-mindedly focused on sex.”

“Does that include you?”

“Oh no.”

“No?”

“No, I am multi-dimensionally, deeply, and many-mindedly focused on sex.”

“That is true.  But how can you be ‘many-mindedly’?”

“It’s an expression, like, when one says, ‘I’m of two minds about such-and-such.’  I am of many-minds about sex.  All of them for it.”

“If only you had as many cocks for sex as you have minds for sex, I might be satisfied with only you.”

“I would look like some sort of Hindu god with that many cocks!”

“And I could be your consort.”

Kaylee and her new boyfriend, Keith, arrived.  You might remember both Kaylee and Keith from “The Love Elite,” the culminating story of the “Lust in the Dunes” series.  Well, since then, Kaylee broke up with Corey and started up with Keith.  Lo had been with all three of them, as you no doubt recall.

The two of them set up a pandemically prudent distance away from us, but not too far that we couldn’t talk.  They brought with them a cooler of beers that they willingly shared with us.

We caught up with each other, for it had been a long time since we had last seen them in person.

After about an hour of chit-chat, Lo and Kaylee were lying out.  Lo was reading a book and Kaylee said she didn’t have anything to read.  Lo reached into her bag and, to my great surprise, she pulled out the prototype of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume II: MORE! that she had been reading and lent it to her.

“What’s this?” asked Kaylee.

“I know you liked 50 Shades,” said Lo.  “This is way better.  Let me know what you think of it when you’re done.”

A couple of hours passed as the sun descended in the sky, decreasing in intensity, mellowing to a warm, gentle ruddy hue.  We had swam and laughed, but now Lo said she had to pee.  Due to COVID, she was hesitant to use a public restroom.  And besides, the facilities were way down on the other end of the beach.

There was always the restaurant we had lunched in, but that wasn’t too close and the urge had snuck up on her.

“Go in the ocean,” coaxed Kaylee.

Lo shook her head ‘no.’

I knew what was in her mind.  She always likes to be sensational and provoke a reaction.  She’s secretly competitive and likes the partners of her friends to know that she is the most slutty, dirty, and depraved so that they secretly (or not-so-secretly) fantasize about her while with her friends.

“Does anyone mind if I, uh, you know, here?”

“Pee?” asked Kaylee with a laugh.

“Yeah.”

“In the sand?”

“Yeah.”

“You want us to go away?”

“Nah.  You can watch if you want.”

“Do it!” she said.

Lo sat on the edge of her folding chair, spread her legs wide, pulled her skimpy bikini bottoms slightly askew, exposing her silky-smooth pussy, and she let the stream pour into the fine golden sand.

A few seconds into her stream, I could detect that something was amiss.  I saw her fingers clench the edge of the chair, her legs begin to tremble, her breasts begin to heave.  And then, there it was, a seamless transition from micturition to hysterical paroxysm, complete with an uncontrollable emanation of fluid.  Unlike the first flow, this one was powerful and had an ascending trajectory.

Lo’s short shorts

Lo just bore down and said, “Fuck!” as she experienced the waves of unanticipated pleasure ripple through her flesh.

She was literally gushing with contradictory feelings: embarrassment, excitement, shame, pride, disgrace, abandon, power.  The complete loss of control of her bodily functions made her feel infantile, yet her almost superhuman ability to achieve an orgasm that spouts with greater force, volume, distance, and longevity than any man’s ejaculation filled her with a sense of superiority to both men and women.  All of her emotions occurred simultaneously and were expressed through her facial contortions, as though she were being deliciously tortured.

“Holy shit!” cried out Keith, for he had never seen anything like that in person before.

He got up and measured the distance from Lo to the end of the wet trail she left in the sand and calculated it to be about six feet.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“I’ve been having spontaneous squirting orgasms lately.  I don’t know why or what’s going on,” said Lo, blushing as red as the setting sun.  “I probably should see a doctor.”  Her pussy was still dripping like a leaky faucet.

“Or stop masturbating so much,” I added, almost under my breath, but not quite.

“Feel better?” asked Kaylee.

“No, that’s the thing.  It just makes me more horny for an intentional orgasm.”

There was an uncomfortable silence while we all contemplated what might happen next.  Then suddenly there was a strong, cool wind from the south that blew everything all over the place and kicked sand up in our faces.  We scrambled to collect our stuff and then we said a hasty goodbye as it looked like rain.

Back in the car, I looked at Lo.

“What?” she asked.

“You know what.”

“It was out of my control.”

“Not that.”

“Then what?”

“You gave her the book.”

“So?”

“So?!  I’ve written about her.  She’s in it!”

“Not in that volume.”

“Don’t you think that she can find the blog and quickly see that it’s you. . . and me?”

“So what?  I’m done with having to apologize for who I am.”

“If you’re fine with it, then so am I,” I said.

We were on the road for a bit.  The rain was thrashing against the windshield.  We sat, exhausted from a full day in the hot sun.  Silently we listened to the rhythm of the wipers and the crackle of the raindrops.  It was relaxing.

“What are you thinking about, Little Miss Puddle Pants?” I asked.

“Stop it.”

“Well?”

“I was thinking about the female gaze again.”

“Oh, reminiscing about the girls you jilled to?”

“No,” she said defensively.  “I was thinking how I like to be the object of the male gaze.”

“No kidding.”

“But that the way you write me, the way I am in the books, is much more of the female gaze.”

“How so?” I asked, glad to be talking of my writing.

“Well, yes, you portray me as a sex-starved, dirty, nasty, little nympho slut.”

“I. . .” I tried to protest.

“Don’t interrupt.  But, you also get me from the inside.  You see into me and portray how I see things.”

“A lot of people see into you,” I said, making a bad pun.  It took her a moment to get it.

“Not like that!  I’m serious.  You don’t write about me as one-dimensional.  You might depict one side of me more than the others.”

“And which side would that be?” I again quipped.

“But you portray me as who I am, who I really am.  And if Kaylee doesn’t appreciate that, then too bad for her.”

“And what happens when I, inevitably, write about today and she sees it on the blog?”

“Well, you wouldn’t write anything untrue about her, would you?”

“No.”

“So, she has nothing to get upset about.”

“Fair.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Will you fuck me when we get home?” she asked as she began to doze off in the car.

“You’ll be asleep when we get home, dear.”

“Fuck me anyway.  You must be in so much pain after all that today,” she said as she reached down between my legs.  “I’d blow you now, but I think I need a nap.”

[If you liked this beach story, you’ll love the stories in our books: Sexy Shorts, Shorter Shorts, and our forthcoming Slut Life]

Medicinal Masturbation

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“Are you going to sleep, Daddio?” she asked, rubbing my flaccid member under the sheets.

“Guurerumph,” I inarticulately mumble.

“But what about me?”

“Sleep.”

She continued gently stroking my rod up and down with just her fingertips, ever-so-lightly.  I could feel my cock growing.  Her curious fingers moved lower, tickling my testicles.

“You’re so big.  So full.  Are you sure you want to sleep?”

No response.

After dallying on my scrotum for a while, she explored further down below, gently circling and prodding.

“Oh come on Daddy, I’m feeling randy!  What do I have to say?  What do I have to do?” she whined.

“Fine,” I said, groggy.  “Roll over and spread your legs.”

“But I’m on my period.  It’s heavy.  It will make a mess.”

“Grrrrrrr,” I grumbled.  “Now you’ve got me hard.”

“I didn’t do that.”

“You certainly had a hand in it.”

“Jack it for me.”

“Lo, I’m too tired to jack it.”

“I like seeing you jack it.”

“You like seeing anyone jack it, or jill it, or whatever it.”

“True, but I’m tired of being a boner donor and of just seeing cumtributes.  I want the full 4-D experience.”

“Four dicks?”

She laughed, “No, silly.  Though that would be nice.  Three dimensional, plus the added fourth dimension of the smell, taste, and feel of cum on me when you’re done.”

“Is that what they mean by 4-D?”

“That’s what I mean by it.”

By this point I was up and awake.

“Do you want me, Daddy?” she asked, despite having just told me I can’t have her.

“No,” I said out of frustration.

“Your Truth Stick says otherwise.”

“You can’t handle the truth,” I said.

“The truth is hard.”

“The truth is hard to swallow.”

She leaned over and looked up at me as her mouth descended on my ‘Truth Stick.’

“Fine,” I said.  “I’ll jack it.”

“You will?!”

“But only if you let me use Stoya.”

Now it was her turn to grumble.

“Why can’t you just jack it with your right hand like a real man?”

“Because I am a real man with real calluses on my hands.  Stoya feels better. . . and she makes you jealous.”

“Fine, I’ll take whatever I can get.  My fucking cramps are killing me.  You get Stoya all lubed up and I’ll be right back.”

She went into the bathroom and grabbed a heating compress.  She put it just above her Delta of Venus.

“OK, I’m ready to watch you now,” she said, her legs spread and her little tampon string dangling from between her pussy lips.

I stood over her, looking at her pussy, fucking Stoya’s.

Strings Attached

“That’s it, Daddio,” she said, encouraging me, her red tongue gliding over her white teeth.  She reached over the side of the bed and pulled out her glass dildo, ‘Glindo,’ as we call it, and her Hitachi Magic Wand.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Medicinal masturbation.  It will make me feel better.”

She applied the Hitachi to her clit as she inserted the dildo up, next to her tampon.

“Keep going,” she insisted.

Her various objects of sexual self-pleasure were blocking my view.  In order to enhance my excitement, she said, “You know what Kaylee told me the other day?”

I kept thrusting into Stoya, but I was listening.

“She said, ‘This guy I hooked up with told me that sometimes when he fucks girls, he pictures other girls in his mind.  But, when he is fucking me, he just pictures me.’  And you know what I told her?”

She didn’t really expect me to answer.

“I told her that when guys fuck other girls, they picture me.  In fact, they look at my naked photos to get hard for their wives and girlfriends.”

“What did she say to that?” I asked her.

“She called me a dirty slut.”

“Really?”

“She said I’m an attention whore and a nympho.”

“She knows you well.”

She dropped the Hitachi by her side.  “Fuck me, Daddy,” she said.

“What?”

“Fuck me.”

“You just told me not to because you’re on your period.”

“Shut up and get in me!”

I wasn’t in a position to argue with her.  I slid out of Stoya and into Lola, accompanied by her tampon and the dildo.

“Do you like to share me?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like it if there were two other cocks in me, instead of just this tampon and dildo?”

“Yes,” was all I could say.

“Me too,” she said and I could feel her begin to convulse under me.

It was so snug, yet so wet.  I was crushed, but I enjoyed the feeling of finally filling her up.

She could sense my body tensing in anticipation of cumming.  “Cum in me, Daddy,” she said.  “Fill me more.  Cum deep in me.  I’m your whore.”

I fulfilled her wish and then slid out.  I was still cumming.  She dropped her dildo and sat up and sucked everything she could out of me.  When she had extracted every last drop, she licked her lips and said, “You know what Joseph Campbell says?”

“That’s an odd thing to ask at this moment.  But I’ll bite.  What does Joseph Campbell say?”

“The demon you swallow gives you its power.”

“Do you feel powerful?”

“MmmmHmmmm,” she hummed.

She got up out of the bed and headed to the bathroom.

“Where are you going”

“I have to take out the fucking tampon you lodged in my throat!”

When she returned, I asked, “Did you get it?”

“Yes,” she said, “but I just remembered.”

“What’s that?”

“I have my OBGYN appointment first thing tomorrow morning.”

I pulled the covers over me and was quietly drifting off to sleep.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“You know what Benjamin Franklin says?”

“I’ll bite.  What does Benjamin Franklin say?”

“Early to bed, early to rise.”

“Well you better rise in the morning,” she said squeezing my cock with her hand, “cause I’m going to want more of this then.  It’s the only thing that relieves my cramps.”

“Don’t worry, the doctor will be in tomorrow.”

Substitutes

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The plans for Robert’s engagement had to be postponed due to COVID-19.  Linda, his intended betrothed, was in Italy.  He was here in America.  His planned flight during spring break to visit her was cancelled.  Without Linda and without Lo, who was with me during quarantine in Florida, he regressed to his former self – that is, suffering from erectile dysfunction.

When Lo and I finally returned home from our temporary pandemic paradise, he was very eager to see her.  They had made a date.  Lo explained that there was no worry about social distancing with Robert because he hadn’t seen anyone or been with anybody since our departure back in February.  In addition, he was already prone to hypochondria and health anxiety, so he had taken every conceivable precaution to avoid contact with anyone.  He was a real Howard Hughes, only without the money, fame, and grandiosity.  The only exception he made to his rule was seeing Lo.  Madness drives us all.

Naughty School Girl

Lo was getting ready for her date with Robert.  She got out of the shower and was drying her hair.  I let out a cat whistle.  “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she says, “I’m already late.”

“I don’t have any funny ideas.”

“Good.”

“I have sexy ideas.”

“Most of your sexy ideas are pretty funny.”

“Like what?”

“Like your Stoya Fleshlight.  Why would you fuck her when you could fuck me?”

“Because you won’t fuck me.”

“When won’t I fuck you?”

“Like. . . now.”

“I have a date.”

“Well then,” I said, pulling out the Fleshlight, “so do I.”

“The hell you do!”she shrieked, grabbing the Fleshlight out of my hands.

“You’ll fuck me before him?” I asked, incredulously.

“I told you, I’m already late.”

“He’s waited this long, another hour won’t kill him.”

“An hour?!  How do you figure that you’ll need an hour to fuck me?”

“I was thinking two minutes to fuck you, but fifty-eight minutes for you to get dressed and do your makeup.”

“Funny.  You just. . .”

In the middle of her sentence, her phone rang.  It was Robert.  She answered it in her sweet, seductive, slutty voice.  “Hi Robert.”

There was some back-and-forth.  After hanging up, she said, “He’s coming over here.”

“What?  Why?”

“Apparently he couldn’t wait any longer.  He’s already in the car on his way.”

“Then we can do it!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the one who gets the sloppy seconds, not him.  And I also like to keep you in suspense.”

“Then give me back Stoya,” I said, reaching for the Fleshlight.

“I bet you’d like her, wouldn’t you?” she asked, as she put the cylinder between her legs, bent over, and made it appear that she had two pussies.

“That is inviting.”

“I told you, no funny ideas,” she said, attempting to walk around like that.

“You’re the comedian of this outfit,” I said.  She put the Stoya Fleshlight on the nightstand and began blow drying her hair, applying her makeup, and getting dressed.  She put on a special outfit just for Robert: naughty schoolgirl.

The bell rang and, as in the old days, I politely let Robert in with a collegial hello.  There was no need to point him in the direction of the bedroom.  He knew his way like a dog remembering where he buried his bone.  He hadn’t seen me in four months and yet blew right past me.  No formalities.  Not even the pretense of interest.  He was just interested in the sweet release induced by Lo spreading her knees.

I sat, frustrated, in the living room.  But before too long, I got a text from Lo summoning me.

I entered the bedroom and found the two of them in the sack.

“Daddio, Robert and I had a little idea,” she said, using a tone to match her outfit.

“What’s that?”

“Well, he’s having a little trouble.  It’s been a while since the equipment was last greaced and, well, we thought that a little role-reversal might help him to get it back up and in working order.”

“What sort of role-reversal?”  I was both curious and confused.

“Instead of Robert fucking me and you watching, Robert will watch as you fuck me.  How’s that sound?”

Lola Greeting Card

I was already hard.  I didn’t have to answer, I just removed my pants, unbuttoned my shirt, and lifted the short skirt Lo was wearing.  I got behind her and mounted her.  She was standing on the side of the bed and Robert was lying down in the bed, silently observing every expression of her face as I penetrated her from behind.

She gently stroked and tickled his testicles and she could see him getting aroused.

“You like that?” she asked.  “You like seeing your little slut getting fucked?  You like to see my ass get pounded?”

He was getting harder.

Lo called over her shoulder to me, “Fuck me like you mean it!”

I increased the tempo and force of my thrusts.

“You like seeing him slam me repeatedly like a screen door in a hurricane?”

I have to admit, I laughed at that simile.  But Robert was soberly serious.

Lo began to suck on his tumescent cock.

“Daddy,” said Lo over her shoulder again.

“What?” I asked, keeping up my aerobic gyrations.

“Can Robert use your Fleshlight?”

“What?!  No,” I said.

“You won’t share your Fleshlight with him, but you’ll share my pussy?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Fine,” she said, perturbed and lunging forward so I fell out of her slick clit.

She climbed up on the bed and slid down on Robert’s erect phallus.  “You can use Stoya while he gets the real thing!”

I went over to the nightstand and grabbed the instrument of self-pleasure, lubed her up, and slid her over my rod as I watched Lo exaggerate her enjoyment, specifically in order to piss me off, though it had quite the opposite effect.

Seeing that her affectations were not causing jealousy, she said to Robert, “Do you want my ass?”

“Yes,” he managed to mumble through his excited breathing.

She lifted up, grabbed her ass cheeks with both hands, spread them as far as they would go, and slid down slowly, gingerly on his lance.  Up-and-down she carefully bobbed, taking him a little deeper with each foray.  Soon enough she was down to the hilt of his cock.  She was making comments about how big it felt and how hard he was.  Her right hand moved to her clit and was rubbing it rapidly.

“Does it feel good?” she asked Robert.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re so tight,” he said.

“Tighter than my pussy?”

“Much.”

“Why else?”

“Your pussy was so wet.  I didn’t even need lube.”

“I never need lube,” she said.  “Why else do you like it?”

“You’re such a dirty girl.”

“Go on.”

“Such a dirty slut.  A cum whore.  A fuck-toy.”

Lo’s love language is jealousy.  It turns her on to make me jealous.  And, conversely, her own jealousy (of other women or even of Stoya) makes her even more sexually aggressive, like she has something to prove.

“Do you think Linda would do this? – let you have her ass?”

Robert was reaching up to grab Lo’s breasts and cup them with his hands.

“Do you think Linda would let you cum in her ass?  Would she finger herself while you fucked her ass like I’m doing now?”

Indeed, Lo’s four fingers were curled and snug up inside her.

Robert pulled on her nipples.

“Smack my tits!” commanded Lo.  “Yes, pull them, smack them.”

I saw her head tilt back and I knew what would be coming next.

A powerful stream of amrita sprayed from her onto Robert as if putting out a fire burning on his chest as she screamed “FUCK!”

Simultaneously he came in her ass and I in Stoya, each of us grunting our own mantras to the goddess.

Lo quickly jumped off his throbbing hard meat and took it deep in her mouth as she looked up at him.  “Would your pure little bride Linda do this?” she asked as she licked him clean.  “Even if she fucks you, you’re still going to want your dirty little Lo to use and abuse,” she reminded him.

She cupped his balls and fondled them, changing her tone from dominatrix to endearing concubine, she asked, “Feel better?”

“Yes, yes,” was all he could emote.  She grabbed a towel from the side of the bed and wiped down the ejaculate from his chest, proud of her accomplishment.

After he was gone, she turned to me, her mood abruptly changing, and said, “You’re more jealous of Stoya than you are of me.”

“You’re right,” I said, surprised by my irrational preference, “I wouldn’t share my Fleshlight, but I would share my Lola.”

“Phhht,” she said, dismissively, “I take more pleasure in being shared anyhow.”

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