Impressive Size

[Prequel to Breeding Farm]

“It’s so big!” gasped Lo.  “It’s beautiful.  Stunning.  I just can’t believe it.”  She truly was impressed.  We had just pulled up in the driveway of Lily’s uncle’s mountain resort home.  Her uncle was traveling around Europe and, since Lily was one of his favorites, he gave her permission to use it and to host friends.  We happened to be the friends that she and Jim chose to invite up for a long weekend.

The air was crisp and the sky was clear and blue and radiant.  All the trees on the mountain were in their peak of autumn perfection.  We had the whole secluded house to ourselves.

Lily showed us around the grounds and gave us a tour of the home.  Then she showed us to our quarters.  The bed was enormous!  The bathroom and bathtub were almost as big!!!  This would be fun.  Lo and I looked at each other knowingly, expectantly.

Since it took us quite a while to get up there, winding through the dangerous mountain switchbacks, we made some dinner and then had some drinks.  We were all tired from the trip and Lo and I were eager to get to bed and get to each other.

Lo All Wet

She got naked and hopped into the clear glass encased shower as I drew a bath in the tub.  From inside her little chamber, she pressed her tits up against the glass and then turned and pressed her ass up against it as she used the hand-held showerhead to massage between her legs.

She came a couple of times, struggling to keep her screams to herself.  Then she emerged from the shower and slid her sexy self down upon my hard cock as I lay half-submerged in the water of the claw-foot white porcelain tub.

We had to be careful because we didn’t want to make too much noise or too much mess.  When she had finished cumming in reverse cowboy position, she turned and descended on my spear once more, this time facing me.  Grabbing her tits and pulling her nipples, she asked me, “Shall I be a good girl this weekend, Daddy, or a bad girl?”

“You’re already a bad girl,” I said, “so, you might as well not deny your nature.”

She came again and then urged me to get up and out and dry off so we could enjoy one another in the plush bed.  Bent over the side; face down in the down pillows; on her knees straddling me – we explored many positions, before she finally opted for being bent over a chair and seeing herself in the full-length mirror as I made her tits swing with my thrusts from behind her.

Just as we were both approaching the pinnacle of success in this position, she commanded, “Stop!”  She wasn’t kidding.  I did as she bade me.  “Get a towel and put it on the floor.”

I followed her command.  The towels were thick and heavy and the floor was wall-to-wall carpet.

“Get behind me and keep going, only harder.”

I again followed her command and within moments her clenching climax had pushed my member right out and she was squirting what seemed to be gallons on the towel beneath her.

She collapsed and said, breathlessly, “I knew that was going to happen.”

The next morning, after I had made everyone breakfast, we headed out on a hike.  I happily pulled up the rear, right behind Lo, whose behind, in her black athletic tights, was the best inspiration for me to keep going.

Lo – Tight

It was an exhilarating trek through the crisp air of the mountain tops.  The sights and the thrills were worth the exertion.

When we got back to the house, we were famished and we heated up a big pot of chili we had prepared before the trip.

We then settled into our vacation home and after a few glasses of wine, Jim suggested a game of cards.  We decided on poker and I raised the stakes by suggesting strip poker.  Lo kicked me under the table.  I didn’t know why at the moment.

Our friends were game and we got to playing.  Little did everyone (except Lo) know, but I’m a terrible poker player.  I can never keep straight which is the better hand.  Lo took pity on me and helped me all she could, to her own detriment.  She did her level best of spying on my cards to help me, to discard her good hand, to lift me up by lowering herself.  Doing that was tougher than actually winning!  But before too long, she was shirtless, sockless, and then pantless.  Not to be outdone by her rival, Lily went garment-for-garment with Lo.  After only a couple of rounds they were both braless.  It came down to a question of who was going to lose her panties first: Lo or Lilly?  You guessed it!  Lo was out and in her birthday suit.  She seemed more than happy to be the loser of the game.

During the hour or so that it took for Lo to win or lose, depending on how you’re scoring this, we had finished a bottle of wine and Jim and I had broke the seal on our special bottle of Scotch.

Eager to keep playing, Lo suggested that since she had no more clothes to offer, we play for certain “favors.”  These new rules started out tame enough.  First Lo had to bend over to pick up a napkin.  Then she had to get up and walk around the table to refresh my glass and Jim’s glass, with a little curtsy of course.  She had to remove Lily’s panties when Lilly lost.  But soon we moved on to having Lo’s writs be tied up around one of the support beams in the room as she bent over.  We found a riding crop that Lily’s uncle used as a decorative prop, and we used it, each taking turns swatting Lo’s ass and occasionally her pussy from behind.  Lily was the cruelest with the crop.  But then we gave Lo some aftercare.  Each of us got a turn fingering her from behind.  She came almost immediately for each of us.  After Lily’s turn (she went last), Lo pressed her legs together and commanded me to grab a towel, as she had the previous night.  When I had spread it at her feet, she spread her legs and looked as if she was putting out a fire from between her thighs!

“Holy shit!” cried Lily.  “I’ve never seen that actually happen in real life!!!”  She seemed thrilled.

Lo slowly slunk to the floor, exhausted.  She looked up, a smile on her face, a bit proud, her legs spread in a ‘V’ shape, and a puddle underneath her.  “Really?” she asked.

“It happens all the time to Lo,” I chimed in.

“I’ve read about it, I’ve seen it in videos, but never actually saw a woman squirt.  How do you do it?”

“I don’t do it.  It just happens.  Talent, I guess.”

Lily untied Lo’s wrists and helped her up.

“Do you think you could show Lily how to do that?” asked Jim, turning the tables on his bride, since she had been eager to have Lo teach Jim how to pleasure a woman despite his diminutive size.

“I know a lot of people claim to be able to teach it,” said Lo, “and there are a lot of websites out there dedicated to how to make a woman squirt, but I don’t know.  I only know that it works for me when I’m super aroused.”

“It’s more of a problem than a talent,” I said.

Lo frowned at me.  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

“Come on, Lo,” I said, “you know that you sometimes accidentally squirt at very inconvenient times.”

“Oh, that’s true.”

“And the number of sheets we have to go through. . .”

“Yeah, it makes for a lot of laundry.”

“And how you shoot me right out of you mid-coitus.”

“That’s true too,” she admitted.

“I don’t need to squirt,” interrupted Lily, “I just would like to cum when having sex.”  She blurted it out and I could see that Jim’s request of Lo and Lo’s performance clearly were making her feel inadequate and so she turned the tables right back on Jim.

“Look,” said Lo, always the peace maker, “I have an idea to help everyone.  I’ve done this before, or a variation of this.  I’m already naked.  Why don’t we all get naked, light a candle, sit in a circle, and speak openly, honestly, candidly about sex, love, and relationships.  As long as the light of the candle is illuminating our circle, there is no judgment, no accusation, no falsity.  We will be vulnerable and compassionate with each other.  Our nudity is only an outward symbol of our inward vulnerability.”

Lily looked at Jim and he nodded his head that he was willing to give it a go.

We all got naked and for the first time I got a view of the little that Lilly had to work with.  Jim’s physique is fit, trim, and small.  Attractive, but tiny.  I’m not hung like a horse (horse cock being something Lo dearly likes), but compared to Jim I was.  I had to remind myself, by the candlelight, there is no judgment.  Right.

We all sat down in a circle with the candle at the center.  Jim and I were cross-legged and both Lola and Lily, being more flexible, sat full lotus position.

Lola started us off, “Sex is good, but sex without meaning, without connection, without intimacy can be empty and leave you cold.”

As Lo said these words, I couldn’t help but think of all the times she fucked guys, strangers, in the back seat of the car as I drove, or at the beach as men came all over her body, or. . . .  Wait, I reminded myself again, no judgment.  Got it.

“Yeah,” said Lily, picking up the thread of the conversation, “that’s true, but sometimes, while having that meaningful connection, I just want to get rammed home with a long, hard cock.  I want to submit to a domineering, rough, take-command partner.  That can be both hot and intimate.”

“Jim?” asked Lo.

“I know she likes that, but it’s just not me.  I’m kind, gentle by nature.  I love her.  I don’t want to. . .” he trailed off, not even able to articulate the deeds she wanted done to her.

“That’s totally understandable,” said Lo, “but there is a major gap between her desire and yours, or her idea of intimate intercourse and yours.”

“It’s clear you love each other,” I said, “but do you trust each other?”

“Completely,” said Lily right away.

Jim just nodded.

“If you trust each other,” I followed up my thought, “then maybe an open relationship.  Having a bull who will come over and do for Lily all the things she wants and needs could expand your relationship pallet.”

“A bull?” asked Jim naively.

“A man who fucks married women,” explained Lily.  She obviously had explored this herself.

“H.H. does that with me,” said Lo, “and he loves it.”

“I like to see her satisfied,” I said.  “If she likes to be fucked by another guy, then why should I stand in her way?”

“Come on,” said Lo, to me as if calling bullshit.  “You are not simply standing to the side while another guy fucks my brains out.  You love it.  You love to see it and to guide him through it and to hear all about it if you can’t be there in person.”

“She’s right,” I confessed.  “Honesty.”

Jim, who was very visibly uncomfortable by everything he was hearing, said, “I just don’t think I can do that.  I mean, we’ve given an open relationship a chance and it drove me crazy.  I almost called off the wedding because I was so enraged and jealous.”

“Jealously is a symptom, not a cause,” said Lo.

“A symptom of what?”

“Of so many things – a feeling of inadequacy, a fear of being left, anger with a previous girlfriend who hurt you.  I mean, it could stem from any number of deep-seated insecurities.  But mainly it’s a form of fear.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real.  Understanding it doesn’t remove it,” said Jim.

“No, you’re right.  I’m just pointing out that what you’re feeling doesn’t stem from what Lily is doing.  She loves you.  But she also has desires.  She wants to be with you.  But she also wants to have wild, earth-shattering orgasms.”

“And I want to be used, abused, humiliated, and tossed aside like a worthless fuckdoll” said Lily.

There was an awkward silence before Lo said, very reassuringly, “All healthy desires if channeled properly.”

I decided to be daring.  “Would you like me to demonstrate?” I asked, knowing full well that Lo’s jealousy would explode inside her heart like a hydrogen bomb.

“I’d love it,” said Lily looking at my limp cock.

Lo gave me a sidelong glance and said, “I don’t think right now is the time for that.  We’re making progress.”

“Oh,” I said, “I didn’t mean now.  I just meant. . .”  I was caught now, but it was worth it to get Lo’s ire up after that perfectly detached and clinical explanation of jealousy she just pronounced as if she were so far beyond and above it.  But I felt bad immediately after because it suddenly dawned on me that she might not have been talking from a superior position to jealousy, but from her intimate knowledge and understanding of it within her own heart.

As if to strike back at me, she then said, “Jim, I feel as if you’re bottling up your emotions and not letting them flow out.  What can I do to help you?”  As she said this, she caressed his knee with her left hand.  I saw his cock twitch at the unexpected touch.

“I just feel like I don’t know how to please her.”

Lo’s hand moved closer to his crotch.  “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“I want to find a way that I can be everything she needs,” he said.

Lo’s hand got to his balls and began fondling them as his micropenis started to grow.

“We cannot be everything for our partners.  We have to be content with who and what we are for them and who and what they are for us.”  She began stroking his little cock with her thumb and index finger.  “Do you like that?” asked Lo.

“Yeah,” he said, “it feels good.”

“Lie down,” said Lo.

He reclined on the carpet as Lo continued to jerk him off.  Her right hand was caressing his legs, spreading them apart.  Her left hand gently held his little member between her thumb and finger.

“You know, I wouldn’t even feel you if you were to penetrate me,” said Lo.

“I know,” said Jim as if in a hypnotic trance.

“But that wouldn’t matter to you, would it?” asked Lo.

“No,” said Jim, “I’d be really into it.”

“I know you would,” said Lo.

From where I was sitting, I could see Lily begin to stroke her pussy as she continued to sit in the lotus position.  She was enjoying this.

Lo lowered her mouth to Jim’s cock and tickled the tip with the tip of her tongue, clearly in order to let us see what she was doing.  Then she lifted up her mouth and said, “Don’t cum.”

“I’m trying not to cum, but it’s so hard.  It feels so good.”

“Stand up,” commanded Lo.

Jim stood up.

Lo pulled him forward and positioned him next to Lily as Lo, still on her knees, manipulated his tiny pud with her fingers.

“Close your eyes,” Lo said.

Jim closed his eyes.

Lo stroked faster and faster and lifted her mouth to his little balls to kiss and lick them.

“You may cum now,” she said, and no sooner did she say this than he came, right on Lily’s face.

“Open your eyes,” said Lo to Jim.

He followed her command and looked down at Lily who was covered in his ejaculate and smiling.

“There you go,” said Lo.  “Did you like that?”

Both of them said “Yes” at the same time.

By the way, I was hard as a rock at this point and I finally said, “Lo, any chance I will get to cum?”

“Oh, are you hard-up?” she said in a mocking manner.

“Yes.”

“Do you deserve to cum?” she asked with a look in her eye that told me I was being punished for my comment earlier.

“I sure do,” I said confidently.

She was feeling surly, but despite that, she indulged me and she told me to lie back.

I followed her instruction.  To my surprise, instead of doing to me what she had done to Jim, she sat on my face.  She was facing my toes and she invited Lily over as I began lapping Lo’s wet pussy lips like a thirsty dog.

Lily grabbed my cock and balls (I could tell it was Lily, though I couldn’t see her, because I know Lo’s touch) and began furtively fondling.  Then she began to jack me off.  I felt a mouth lower on my cock, but now I wasn’t too sure whose it was.  Lost in the mystery of it all, I gave in and came in heavy, forceful spurts.  Lo came as well, drenching my face.  I practically drowned.

When she got up and I sat up, Lily said, “You come almost as quickly as Jim does.”

“That’s not fair,” I said in my defense, “I’ve been watching Lo for over an hour now.  I was primed and ready.”

“Ready to be pumped dry,” said Lo.

“Well,” said Jim, “I think we all got something out of this.”

“Um,” said Lily, “of the four of us, three of us came.”

“Well Jim,” said Lo, “you got some work to do.”

Jim smiled and asked Lily, “Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

Lo looked at him, got up, exited the room into the mud room and returned with one of the dog leashes that was hanging there.  She put the collar around Lily’s neck and gave the handle to Jim.  “That’s not how you ask a slut like Lily.  Take her upstairs.”

Jim stood up and gently pulled on the leash.  Lily got on all fours and crawled like an obedient bitch at his side.  Off they went.

“Well done,” I said to Lo.

“Don’t give me that ‘well done’ bullshit.  You’re in big trouble mister.”

“Me?” I said innocently, “What did I do?”

“You know very well what you did.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.  I just want you to admit it.”

“OK, so maybe I tried to suggest that I do something with Lily.  But look at what you actually did with Jim.”

“There is no comparison.”

“How not?’

“Because I’m your slutty hotwife and you are my obedient, chaste, little stag.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

“No.  Actually I wouldn’t.  I was just teasing you to see if you would be jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous.  I just want you to know your place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“And where is my place?”

“Right between my legs.”

 

A Sexy Sample

Lo and her Date

We want to send a big shout out and many kisses to Girl on the Net for posting a sexy sample of our newly available audio book of “Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl.”  The original hard copy is quite expensive, but worth it. The ebook is very affordable. But this audio book is a totally new immersive experience, thanks to the fabulous talent of Ms. Jupiter Grant of Jupiter’s Lair, the narrator!

Go give it a free listen today and, if you love it, which you will, order your own copy.

Sample from “Lo Goes Down”

Monday Masturbation Mayhem

[Continued from Breeding Farm]

Monday morning and, as I was putting on my suit and tie for work, Lo was masturbating herself silly in the bed beside me.

“Planning your vacation with Collin?” I asked sarcastically in between her orgasms as she caught her breath.

“You could get in on this, if you wanted, Daddio,” she said, spreading her pussy lips for me to see.

“Someone around here has to go to work,” I said, a bit bitter.

“You only need a minute,” she said, trading barb for barb.

The truth was that I did want her.  I wanted her terribly.  I’m sure she could see that too.  But I was still sore that she was going for a week, without me, to be with Collin at one of his enormous houses up in the country.  I was in a state of angry agitation.  Denying her cunt my conjugal company was the only corporal punishment I could inflict upon her.  But, I must admit, after her fifth or sixth orgasm, it did seem rather ineffectual.  The best I could do was say, “Strip the bed of those soaked sheets and remake it before you leave.  Thanks.”

With that I left.  No, not even a kiss goodbye.  I was a real curmudgeon.

As it happened, Jim, Lily’s husband, couldn’t go that week either.  Just the two ladies, Lily and Lola, were going up to the country to visit Uncle Collin for a week.  Jim and I had planned on joining them Saturday morning and then we’d drive back to town in two cars on Sunday.

That night I got a call from Lo saying she and Lily had arrived and it was “Amazing!”  We didn’t chat long because she said they were “busy” – leaving me to wonder what they were busy doing, but Lo promised to email me in the morning.

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Doppelganger-Banger

Illustration of HH and Lo by LittleGem of purplesgem.com

The light was red.  The wallpaper was red.  The tablecloths were red.  And the candles were red.  A live jazz trio played at the other end of the bar.  We sat in plush, tufted red leather chairs drinking martinis.  Lo’s bare knees were exposed, her legs crossed, her short skirt inching its way up her thighs.  She looked at Jim with wide eyes as he told us about the plans for their wedding which was only a couple of weeks away.  I sat across from Jim and Lo, nursing my drink as they talked animatedly.  They were fond of each other.  I was enjoying the beauty of the two of them as the liquor transformed the dive bar to a dreamscape.

“I can’t believe that in little more than two weeks, you two will be married!” said Lo, grabbing Jim’s hand as she said it.  “Married!” she repeated.

“Are you going to have a bachelor party?” I asked.  “A big send-off to say goodbye to your days of freedom?”

“I already had it,” he said.

“What?!” asked Lo, surprised.  “When?  Tell us!”

Jim told us that the previous week he had gone back to his hometown to spend a long weekend with his college buddies fishing at a remote lake.

“Fishing?” asked Lo, skeptically.

“Yeah,” said Jim.

“No strip clubs?” she asked.

“No,” said Jim.

“Oh, I get it, they came to you at the cottage.”

“No.  No strippers.  Nothing like that.  It wasn’t a weekend in Vegas.  It was just friends spending time together.  Fishing.”

“Well,” said Lo, “shouldn’t you have a proper last hurrah?”  As she said it, she indicated with her tongue what she had in mind.

“Where’s Lily?” I interjected.  As much as I enjoyed seeing Lo seduce Jim, I also wanted to give him a moment to think it over.  He seemed so much like a deer in the headlights.

“She’s in New York.  Actually, for her bachelorette party.”

“Oh yeah?” I said, very matter-of-factly.  “What’s she doing for it?”

The trumpet player had just ramped up his virtuosic solo and was now growling with the horn.  I looked over at him for a moment.  My eyes returned back to Jim.  He was in agony.  He looked at me.  He couldn’t look at Lo.  He said, “She’s with her friends.”

“What’s she doing?  Having a party with her girlfriends from college?”

“No,” said Jim.  “She’s with. . .” he paused, “she’s with her guy friends.  She’s having her ‘last hurrah.’  A crazy orgy or slut-fest with every guy she’d slept with when she lived there.”

“You’re kidding!” said Lo, putting her hand on Jim’s hand and laughing.

“No, I’m not!” he said, frustrated, embarrassed, angry.

“Well, good for her,” said Lo.  “I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic to you or anything, but fuck!  Good for her, you know.  Fuck the patriarchy!”

Jim laughed, despite himself.

“But if you didn’t get your slut-fest for your bachelor party, then let’s make it happen tonight,” she said, sliding a little closer to him.

I suppose now is as good a time as any to inform you, dear reader, that none of this was done without Lily’s knowledge.  In fact, it was done with her blessing, her planning even.  She thought that there was no one better than Lo to help Jim with his self-esteem and jealousy sprouting from their having an open relationship in which only one party had any traffic entering her open door.

Lily thought it best that Jim not know that she was in cahoots with this plan and allow him to enjoy the feeling of seducing Lo, or being seduced by her.

Jim looked to me as if to ask my permission.

“No pressure,” I said, “but I’m fine with it if you are.”

We paid our tab and I drove the two of them back to our place.  They sat in the back seat, making out.  This was a very familiar scenario for Lo and me by now.  I could see her reach down for his cock.

“Lo,” I said as I pulled up to our place, “we’re home.”

I shut off the car.  Lo held Jim’s hand and led him in.

“You two have fun,” I said as I fixed myself a whiskey on the rocks.

I listened as best I could, but I didn’t hear anything.  I picked up a book and began reading on the couch in the living room.  Lo is usually louder than that, I thought.

About twenty minutes later I heard the squeak of the shower knobs being turned.  I thought for sure I’d hear the sound of Lo’s voice soon to follow.

Not only did I hear her voice, but I saw her lovely image as she walked into the living room wearing only one of my old t-shirts.

Lola in a T-shirt

“What brings you out here, dear?” I asked, looking up from my book.

She sat close to me and, in a whisper, she said, “He came.”  She was disappointed.

“What?”

“Yep.  In the car.”

“Oh, Lo,” I said in a tone of sympathy for her loss.

“I hardly even touched him.  I just rubbed him maybe once or twice.”

“And that’s it.  He’s done for the night?”

“He’s very embarrassed.  He’s taking a shower now to clean up.  He thanked me, but I think he wants to go home.”

“Hmmm,” I said, taking it all in.  “I guess I’ll take him home then.”

“But Daddio,” she said as she reached to unbuckle my belt, “what about me?”

“Lo.”

“I’m the do-gooder here who’s left high and dry.”

“More like all wet.”

Lola Reverse View

She fumbled with my belt buckle.  “Please, Daddy.  Let me have it.”

“Lo.”

“Please.  Just one look.”

“Fine.”

She took out my hard member.  She lowered her mouth on it.

“Lo!”

“Just one lick.”

“You said ‘look,’” I rebuked her.

As I did so, she eagerly took me deep in her mouth.  She slid her lips off my rod and then straddled me on the couch, riding my cock up and down.  “Just one. . .”

She wanted just one something.  She was going at it when Jim returned, dressed, from the bedroom.  He sat down in the chair across from us.  He watched Lo rise and fall and she looked at him seductively.  She grabbed her tits and flicked her nipples with her fingers.

She maneuvered me so that I was now sitting behind her and she was reverse cowgirl on me, looking right at Jim with her legs spread.  “Come here,” she commanded to him.

He obeyed, walking right up to her, between my spread legs and hers.  She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to give her a kiss.

I could feel Lo’s pussy clench on my cock and I knew what was coming next.

“You might want to step back a bit,” I said to Jim too late.

Lo was moaning and rubbing her clit as she lifted up off my cock and squirted, soaking Jim’s slacks.

“Jim,” she said, when she regained her senses, “just stay the night.”

“I appreciate the offer. . . and everything,” he said politely, “I really do, but I think I should just get going home.”

“OK,” I said, fumbling to replace my protruding member into my underwear, zip up, and buckle my belt uncomfortably.

Lo had left the room to get some paper towels and was on all fours on the hardwood floor, her ass partially exposed, cleaning up the puddle.  She looked up at Jim.  “You’re welcome to stay, but if you want to go, HH will drive you.”

“It’s ok, I’ll walk,” he said, “It will be good for me to get some air.”

Lo got up and hugged him, and I said, “See you at the wedding.”  I immediately regretted those parting words.

He let himself out and Lo cuddled up next to me on the couch.  “Poor Lily,” she said.

“Yeah,” I concurred.

“You don’t know the half of it,” said Lo.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, not only did he cum after only two strokes, but he’s tiny.”

Tiny Dicks Welcome

“You only saw him after he came.”

“Daddy, I’ve seen a lot of cocks in my day.  I know a tiny cock when I see one,” she said as she lifted her pinky in the air and said, “Smaller than this.”

“Well, at least they love each other,” I said.

“Love can fill a lot of gaps in a relationship,” said Lo, “but there’s one hole that needs more than just love.”

“What a true romantic you are.”

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When Writing, You Gotta Have a Point

“You should do it,” said Lo.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

“No, you definitely should do it.”

“It’s not really my thing,” I said.

Now, dear reader, before your imagination gets the best of you, we were not talking about any of the things you may have thought we were talking about.

I had been invited to give a talk at a Moth reading.  As many of you probably already know, a Moth reading is a storytelling event where each speaker is given about five minutes to tell a tale without a script.  No notes.  Just ad lib, though the performance can be prepared and rehearsed like an actor’s monologue.

“I’m a writer.  I’m not a performer, a thespian.  And I’m awful at memorization.  It becomes stale to me.”

With a “Peshaw,” she dismissed my objections.  “You can tell a story!  You’re made of stories.  You ooze stories.”

“A little too graphic,” I muttered.

“You want to ooze some stories into me?” she asked suggestively.

“Lo, that’s the problem!  All my stories are about you!  About sex!  This has to be PG.  And also, I notice that good stories, like the one’s that win at Moth competitions and get the most applause on Medium, have a point, a sentimental little piece of wisdom, a surprising ah-ha! culminating conclusion.  My stories don’t have that.  They’re just stuff we do, things we say, everyday life.  There’s no point to them at all.”

“Well. . . ,” she cooed, “I wouldn’t go that far.  You have a nice little point.”  She reached down and grabbed at my crotch.

“Little?”

“Why don’t you point me in the right direction and maybe a story will come to you.”

She got on the bed and slid out of her panties, leaned back and spread her legs.

I positioned myself above her.  She reached down between her legs and rubbed her pussy. “Mmmmm, that feels good,” she said.

I hadn’t even touched her yet.

She raised her hand from her crotch to her mouth and licked her fingers.  She didn’t do this in order to lubricate, but to taste her own lubrication.

“Fuck me, Daddy.”

Before I entered her, she was back to caressing her pussy – pulling her labia and slapping her hole, making popping sounds with her hand.

She came.

“That felt good,” she said.

“Lo, you know that I. . .”

“I know, Daddy.  The point wasn’t to make you cum.”

“Then what was the point?”

“You figure it out.  You’re the writer.”

One sexy reader

 

Body of Work

A while ago I wrote that even in today’s topsy-turvy world, Lo and I attempt to avoid politics and political positions in the things we publish.  Yes, we’re political in our everyday lives.  I mean, who isn’t?  To be a-political is to say, “I don’t care if other people make decisions for me or what decisions they make.”

Deborah de Robertis

But here, in our little nook of the erotic blogosphere, we do our best just to tell a good, sexy story and keep you all out there engaged.  It’s a safe space for us and hopefully for you from all the noise, hatred, and vitriol that surrounds us.

But then, one morning while listening to an interview with the creator of “The L Word,” Ilene Chaiken, I heard her say of the show that, “I think it’s revolutionary in America because we’re such a sex-averse culture. And to talk about sex, not just lesbian sex or LGBTQ sex, just to talk about sex is revolutionary.”  That gave me pause and totally reframed this little endeavor of ours.

Mia Kirshner

Maybe she’s right.  Maybe, just writing these lewd, crude, prurient, perverted, sexual, salacious, suggestive, and explicit stories is a political act.

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this before since, during the course of our career as sex enthusiasts, we’ve been banned from: PayPal, WordPress, Tumblr, MeWe, and most recently, Pinterest.  After that last one, Lola turned to me and said, “Since when did being sexy become a crime?”

The L Word

I said, “Darling, you have looks that could kill.  Your body is a dangerous weapon if in the wrong hands.”

We were kidding around, but really, she’s right and so is Chaiken.  In our society, sex – consensual, adult, legal sex! – is treated as a contagion that must be contained.  Beauty, especially the beauty of the unadorned human body, is hypocritically exalted in museums but excluded from life.  It is sequestered away as if the halls of high culture were but a peepshow parade for the few, but not for the many.

Deborah de Robertis

 

Deborah de Robertis

Deborah de Robertis

A keen example of this is the performance art of Deborah de Robertis.  In 2014 she entered the Musée d’Orsay, sat down in front of Gustave Courbet’s painting, “The Origin of the World,” hiked up her golden dress to her hips, spread her legs, and displayed her genitalia.  This may seem like the bizarre behavior of an exhibitionist unless one is aware that Courbet’s painting is a beautiful oil painting of a woman’s naked torso, prominently displaying her cunt – the origin of the world.  Like any great piece, her performance art could be interpreted in a variety of ways.  The way I understand her work is as a statement about society.  “Look here!  You, you artists, aesthetes, philanthropists, critics, connoisseurs, cultural gate-keepers, and curious members of the museum-going public – look!  Courbet says that this is the origin of the world.  He’s right.  This, the window of women through which you came and into which you cum; this is the origin and center of the world.  Yet, here I am, proudly displaying mine right next to the framed work, and the latter imitation you prize and protect while the former flesh and blood you censor and persecute.  You hypocrites!  You despisers of the female form, the body, the earth.  You cower in fear before the frothing flaps from which you emerged.”

 

I digress.  All I am trying to say here is that we are proud of our body of work and proud of our fellow sex bloggers, sex workers, sex enthusiasts, and all of our readers and fans.  People say the Sexual Revolution took place in the ’60’s.  Well, by the looks of things, the Revolution is far from over.  Pick up your penises, your dildos, your vibrators, your anal plugs, your strap-ons, and whatever other toys and tools you use and jack it, jill it, fuck it, fill it!  Long live the Revolution!!!  Kinksters of the world unite.  You have nothing to lose but your clothes!

Deborah de Robertis in front of Lola Down as “Origin of the World”

Sex on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

[Continued from: Quiver]

When I woke up from my long nap, I found Lo sitting in the cozy chair next to the hotel room bed, on her computer, typing away.

“Whatcha doin’?” I muttered.

“Oh, well, look who has rejoined the land of the living!”

“What time is it?”

“Six.”

“Six?!  I must have been out for like three hours!

“About three and a half.”

“What have you been up to?”

“This, that.”

“Right.”

I slid like a sloth over the bed toward the chair and peeked over her computer to see what she was doing.  As I suspected, she was chatting up people on social media.  NSFW social media.

“You want to see?”

“OK.”

She showed me.  One guy had messaged her, “What are you wearing?”  Another messaged her “Do you like cum?”  She posted a pic of herself covered in cum and said, “Answered two-in-one.”  She thought for a moment.  “Hmmmm, two-in-one – that’s my favorite sex position!”

“It’s too early for your humor,” I grumbled.

“What are we going to do, Daddio?” she asked, excited and perky, as she shut her computer.

“What about your virtual gentlemen callers, Lo?  Are you just going to leave them hanging like that?”

“No worries.  They’ll jack off to my photos and show me the evidence later.  They’re ok.”

“Twenty-first Century romance at its finest.”

“You want to go out?”

“I’m not a dog.”

“If only.”

“I don’t want to go out,” I said.  “I want a coffee, three Ibuprofen, and a shower, in that order.”

“What’s the matter, ole man?”

“Day drinking, day fucking, sun stroke, and probably death.”

“Then this is heaven,” she said, spreading her legs and stroking her pussy.  Did I mention she was naked in that chair?

“Lo, please.”

“It’s alright,” she said, “I already came.”

“When don’t you cum?  Honestly.”

“What restaurant tonight?”  She was persistent.

“How about tonight we just order room service.  We have a five o’clock flight in the morning.”

She pouted.

“Lo, too much of a good thing. . .”

“Is a better thing!”

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes.”

“Fine, fine,” she said.

A little later we got our dinner delivered and put on Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.  As we watched it, I turned to her and said, “You are definitely Neal Page,” (the Steve Martin character).

“And you are definitely Del,” (the John Candy character).

“Glad we agree on something.”

We went to bed early.  No sex.  At least not for me.  What she did, I don’t know because I fell right to sleep.

The next day, she was not having it.  Morning, that is.

When I woke her, she said, “It’s dark outside.  This is not a time.”

“Lo, it’s three-thirty.  We have to get to the airport, drop off the rental car, and get through security.”

“Three-thirty is late afternoon.”

“There are two of them.  This is the other one.”

“I don’t like it,” she said.  She put her head under the pillow.

“We have to get going,” I pleaded.

She finally got herself together and we were in the rental car driving to the airport.  The whole way Lo was complaining.  I knew it was because the sun had not even begun to rise yet.  She is a nocturnal animal, but an early bird she is not.

“Look,” I finally said out of frustration, “if you want to actually be Neal Page, then you can walk the rest of the way.”

“OK, Del,” she said snidely.

“Might I remind you that Del was kind-hearted, upbeat, jovial, and he also got them out of every hopeless situation they found themselves in.”

“Are you kidding me?  If it wasn’t for Neal and all his money, they never would have gotten out of St. Louis.  Del just used Neal because Del was broke.  Del was a manipulator, a freeloader, a grifter.”

“Del was happy.  Neal was a miserable, uptight, meanspirited, asshole.”

“Neal had a job and a family.  Del sold shower curtain rings, was homeless, and had no one.”

“He was a widower!  His wife died!  He probably loved her so much that he went to pieces after she passed away.”

“Pshhhaw,” she said dismissively.

“Are you honestly telling me that you think Neal was the better of the two characters?”

“Yes.”

“Del taught Neal how to enjoy life.  Del was well-liked all across the Midwest.  Everywhere they went, he knew people and they went out of their way to help him.  He must have been a nice guy.  Neal knew no one.”

“Neal had a real job and didn’t go door-to-door.”

“Why are we fighting about this?” I finally said to Lo.

“You know,” she replied back, “you just missed the exit to the airport.”

“What?”

“Yeah.  You were so caught up in being right that we drove clear passed it.”

“Fuck!”

She pulled out her phone and was figuring out how to get to the car rental place.

In the distance I could see the sun just breaking through the horizon.

“I know why you’re so argumentative,” I said to Lo.  “You didn’t get to jill it this morning.”

“Duh.”

“Well, go on.  It only takes you a minute.  After all, Del said that Neal’s worst trait was he was always fidgeting with his balls.”

“And Del’s worst trait was he never shut up,” she said as she slid her hand down her pants.

When we got to the airport and were driving up the parking garage toward the car rental return, she said, “Pull over.”

“What?”

“Just pull into a parking spot.  I’ll finish here.”

I did as she said, but warned her, “Be quick about it.  We’re already running late.”

I backed in so I could see if anyone or any cars were coming while Lo was intent on cumming, but the place, the time pressure, the stress of it all made the five minutes of diddling the bean all for naught.

“Fuck,” she said, but not in a good way.  “Let’s just go.”  She removed her hand from her jeans and buttoned them up.  I drove us to the proper destination for the rental and we made it to our flight just on time.

We boarded and buckled in for our four hour flight back home.  Lo pulled out her noise cancelling headphones and plugged them into her phone.  After we were in the air, Lo turned something on and that something turned her on.

She asked the flight attendant for a blanket.  That could only mean one thing.

She draped the blanket over her legs and dove down with her favorite fap finger and soon she was clenching her knees together.  That took all of three or four minutes and then another three or four minutes after that, Lo was sound asleep with her headphones still on.

Out of curiosity, I removed her headphones gently from her head and listened.  She had the audio of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume I: Nymphomania and the Single Girl playing, as read by the incomparable Jupiter Grant.  Unbelievable.  Never have I met such a vain, narcissistic nymphomaniac.  She actually got off to herself getting off!  Well, that and Ms. Grant’s sexy reading voice.  I was a bit flattered since I had written the words that brought her to climax.  Better than writing for Hallmark. [See NOTE]

Just before we landed, I woke Lo to avoid her being startled by the bump when the wheels hit the tarmac.  I told her she might want to button up her pants.  She did so.

When we got out into the brutally cold weather of the Northeast, we tried desperately to get a Lyft, an Uber, or a taxi, but since this was the second most travelled day of the year, they were all a long wait.  We ended up taking the subway right at the height of rush hour.

As usual on our return flight, Lo was terribly underdressed for the weather back home.  She only had on her skin-tight jeans, her striped jackpot top, and a leather jacket.  Because of the biting cold, even after we got on the subway, her nipples were protruding right through the already shapely and revealing shirt.  The suits on their way to the office took notice and Lo basked in their attention, especially insofar as I was well aware of it.  She likes to tease them and me simultaneously.

She gave me a sidelong glance and ran her tongue over her sparkly white teeth as she pressed up a little closer to one suit when the crush of people got on at the next stop.

I’ll admit, it made me rigid and uncomfortable.

When we got out of the crowded subway car, I turned to Lo and said, “You’re so lucky I love you, because any other man would leave you after a ride like that.”

“Save it for home,” she said.  “That wasn’t the last ride of the day.  You have one more to give me.”

As soon as we got in the door and dropped the bags, she took me by the hand into the bedroom.  “Why do you ignore me so much, Daddy?”

“Ignore you?!  Lo, I lavish attention on you.”

“You don’t show it.”

“You mean, I don’t show it the way strangers in a subway show it.”

“Yeah,” she said, dropping her pants, sliding out of her pink thong, and lifting up her striped shirt, no bra.  “Come here and warm me up,” she said.

I got naked and in the bed next to her and she wrapped her bare body around mine.

“You know why I tease them and flirt with all those hard-up husbands on social media, don’t you?”

“Enlighten me, Lo.”

“Because I’m just trying to get your attention.  It’s all for you.”

Suddenly the lyrics to the song by Janet Jackson were floating through my mind.  I was in a delirious dream state.  She climbed on me and all I could hear in my head was, “Guess I’m goanna have ride it tonight.”

Up and down she posted, saying to me, “Cum in me.  Cum in me.  Cum deep in me.  Give me your attention.  Give it to me.  Give it all to me.  I want it.  I want it all.  I need it.  I need more.  I need more.  Fuck, I need it.  Fuck me.  Fuck me.  Fuck me Daddy.”

I saw her fire-engine-red fingernails down over her clit.  I felt her fingers pry up and into her snatch.  She wiggled them deeper inside, up along the top of my shaft as she lifted her hips up, and then she delved in deeper as she lowered her wet crotch down to the base of my cock.

Now it was just her and me fucking in the cold sunshine back home.  No strippers.  No beach girls in string bikinis.  No musclebound men mounting Lola like a stray bitch in heat found wandering around the boardwalk.  No sexting hard husbands, willing wives, and curious couples looking for a cheap thrill.  No chatting up lustful ladies or seducing single men with her virtual vagina over the internet.  No.  None of that.  Now it was just the two of us fucking.

“Where do you want me to cum?  Show me with your finger,” I said as I felt myself getting close.

“Right here,” she said, wiggling her index finger on her g-spot.

“Now?”

“Now.”

I ejaculated right onto her fingertips lodged deep inside her hole.

When I had given her her fill, I slid out and she pulled her sticky little hand and licked each finger as if she had just made cake batter and got it on her hand.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said as she collapsed on me and fell asleep.

I knew she was asleep because her breathing had changed and when her phone buzzed, she didn’t move.

I reached over to the nightstand and picked up her phone.  It was one of her internet friends.  I read the message: “Hey Lo, my wife is in the shower.  I’ve got about five minutes.  Do you think you could help me cum?”

[NOTE: The Audiobook is not out yet.  Lo was listening to Jupiter Grant’s raw recording.  Expected release date: Valentine’s Day, 2020.  Stay tuned!]

Quiver

[Continued from “Black Friday: A Juicy Story Before Brunch

The day after Thanksgiving.  Black Friday.  Miami Beach.  Lo was on a mission.  This was our third day in Miami.  Seventy-two hours of glorious sunny days, short-shorts, and sex.  And, in typical Lo fashion, she wanted more of all three.

“What’s for breakfast?” I asked.

“I thought we were having sex,” she said as she sat on the side of the bed wearing only her sexy tank-top T-shirt and spreading her legs.

“Sex for breakfast?”

“Yeah, we’ll call it ‘Sex-fest.’”

“But Lo, you just came twice.”

“That was all external stimulation.  It just makes me more hungry.”

“Hungry for breakfast?” I asked, since I was starving.

“No, hungry for your cock in my cunt.”

“It’s not even 9 a.m. and you’re using that sort of language?!”

“It’s never too early to speak a Romance Language.”

“You forget, I was in the Romance Languages department at my college.  They didn’t speak like that.”

“Illiterate.”

“We could discuss the nuances of philology all morning, but. . .”

“But I want you to fuck me.  Please.  Just a quick in-and-out is all I need.”

“Fine,” I said and I puled my shorts down around my knees.

The hotel room bed was only a full; much smaller than we were used to.  I said to her, “There better be a spot for me in that bed cause I’m getting in it.”

“Oh, I’ve got a spot for you and you definitely are going to get in it.”

She turned over and scrunched up her body into a little ball on the bed, exposing her puss and ass to me.

“Just go right in,” she said over her shoulder, as if I needed some instructions.

“Top or bottom?” I asked.

“Top or bottom?” she was confused.

“Yeah, which hole?”

“Which do you want?” she asked seductively, surprising me.

“Top!” I said without hesitation.

“Well, fill the bottom first and, if you’re good, you can have the top.”

Lola & HH

Standing by the side of the bed, I slid in with ease and she moaned.  She was drenched and dripping.  “Stay.  Right.  There,” she commanded.  I didn’t even move.  I just grabbed her by her hips and lifted her a little then pushed her down a little.  Up and down, up and down I slid her on my cock.   My thumb moved its way to her top hole to press against it. Within seconds her cunt was gushing and clenching.  I pulled her in closer by her hips to make sure I stayed in place; the tip of my cock up against her g-spot.  She didn’t even scream.  She just bit her lower lip and moaned.  I could see her facial expressions and contortions in the mirror.  In a few more seconds she pulled forward and, as I slid out of her, she squirted.  I was careful to jump back and avoid getting splashed.

“Ahhhh,” she said, “that did the trick.”

She was splayed out on the bed now, breathing heavily.  I stood next to the bed.

“This isn’t a coat rack,” I said of my erect phallus.

“What?” she asked, perplexed.

“You promised me the top hole, remember?”

“Oh, right!”

She scrunched up into her little ball again, wiggling her ass in front of me.  “Can you hit the target?” she teased.

“Stay still and my arrow will fill your quiver.”

I grabbed her hips again and pressed the full head of my cock up against her sphincter.  Her flower bud opened.  Slowly I filled her.  I could see her hands out in front of her clutching the bed sheets as she felt the pain and pleasure of my deep dive.

Again she commanded, “Stay. Right. There.”  Her ass clenched down on me and her body turned the noun, “quiver,” into a verb.

Suddenly she lunged forward, just like she did before, leaving me hard up, standing by the side of the bed a second time as she caught her breath.

Turning her head over her shoulder, she said, “Amazing, Daddio!”

Then, noticing me pulling up my shorts, she said, “Aren’t you going to cum?”

“Darling, thirty seconds of standing behind you, rigid as a statue, while you got your rocks off was exclusively for your pleasure.”

“But I want you to cum.”  She turned around, on all fours, facing me, or rather, my crotch.  She looked up at me and asked, “Don’t you know what Cyndi Lauper says?”

“Cyndi Lauper?!  You’re dating yourself dear.”

“Oh, I wish I could date myself.  I’d be such a good fuck.”

“You’re getting distracted again.  What does Cyndi Lauper say?”

“Oh, right.  She sings, ‘Girls just wanna have cum. That’s all they really want – some cum.’”  She sang the lyrics.

Girls Just Wanna Have Cum

“I think you might be taking some poetic license with that.”

“Whatever.  Cum in my mouth,” she commanded as she took my cock into her open mouth and slobbered over it with her tongue.

“And spoil your appetite?” I asked, enjoying the sensation and the thought of what a dirty, slutty girl she is.

“It’s more of an appetizer.”

“No,” I said flatly, pulling out of her mouth.

She pouted.

“I’m starving,” I said.  “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to waste away.”

She rolled her eyes sarcastically – as if I was in any mortal danger of wasting away.

“What?” I asked.  “Look at me,” I said, striking a pose, flexing my biceps, “One hundred seventy-five pounds of pure muscle!”

“One hundred and seventy-five?!” Lo exclaimed in disbelief, “Aren’t you a few pounds off there?”

“No.  It is a hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle.  The other thirty pounds might be fat, but under it is the pure muscle.”

“Still a little shy of the mark, I think.”

“Well, the other ten pounds is brain, of course.”

“Of course,” she said sardonically.

I stepped on the scale and cursed it saying, “You lying sack of shit!”

Lo, naked but for her T-shirt, stepped on the scale after me and said, “It better not be lying, it says I lost two pounds!”

“It lies.”

“Does it?  Or could it be that my diet and exercise and drinking plenty of liquids has caused me to lose two pounds?”

“It lies.”

“Why would it lie to me that I lost two pounds and lie to you that you. . . well, uh, you’re. . . ?”

“Because it likes the view it has of you from down there.”

She laughed.  She almost never laughs at my jokes, but I suppose this one also appealed to her vanity.  I love it when she laughs.

“Do you like the view?” she asked, bending over and looking at me from between her knees.

“I don’t know why they call it mooning when it looks as bright and pink as the sunrise to me,” I said.  “But as pretty as you are, morning glory, can we please go get breakfast?”

“Sure,” she said as she slipped into her bikini bottoms.  “How do these look?”

It was a very skimpy pink thong bikini bottom that she purposely pulled up extra tight.

I gave her a cat-call whistle and launched into a sing-song limerick:

 

Do your labia hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ’em in a knot?
Can you tie ’em in a bow?
Can you throw ’em o’er your shoulder
Like a continental soldier?
Do your labia hang low?

 

“What?!” she asked, looking down between her legs.

“Look in the mirror,” I gestured.

She took a look and could see what I saw: her puffy pussy lips straddling the skinny g-string.  She’s very self-conscious of her large labia.

“Ah, fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissing my concern.  She walked up to me and, seeing that I had pitched a tent in my shorts, she sang back:

Does your cock stand high?
Does it reach up to the sky?
Does it droop when it’s wet?
Does it stiffen when it’s dry?
Can you wave it at your neighbor
With an element of flavor?
Does your dick stand high?

 

Touché,” I said.

“Tushie?” she asked, turning around and showing me her bottom again.

I smacked it hard and said, “That’s for being tardy.”

We finally got in the rental car and I let Lo drive.  Lo being Lo, she blasted the radio and “I’m Real” by Ja Rule happened to be on, pounding the bass of the speakers to the chorus:

 

 

-Cause I’m real-
The way you walk
The way you move
The way you talk
-Cause I’m real-
The way you stare
The way you look
Your style your hair
-Cause I’m real-
The way you smile
The way you smell
It drives me wild
-Cause I’m real-
And I can’t go on without you

 

 

Lo was contentedly squirming in her leather bucket seat to the beat of the music.

“Can you shut that damn music off?!” I complained.

“You know, you sound like an old man when you say that.”

“You know, I am an old man.”

“Oh, I know.  It’s just sad to think about.”

“Well, if you want to break up with me, go right ahead.”

“Sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“No.  You said that it’s ‘sad’ to think about me being an old man.”

“It is!  I mean, I’m not even at the great hump of my life yet.”

“I thought I was the great hump of your life.”

“I should hope not.”

“What?!”

“What I mean is, I’m not over the hill yet.”

“I should hope not.”

“What does that mean?”

“It simply means, that at twenty-something, you still have some great humps to look forward to.”

“And you don’t?”
“I didn’t say that.  I’m looking forward to humping you in about five minutes.”

“Why so long?”

“So long?  Is five minutes too much to wait for you youngins these days?”

“Five minutes is like two and a half news cycles.”

“Well, here’s some breaking news: the best is yet to come.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Cause I love cumming.”  She pulled up to the curb.  “Here we are.  Where are you going to fuck me?”

“Well, I need nourishment first.  Let’s eat,” I said as we got out of the convertible and went to the hostess stand on the sidewalk.  We were seated at a quaint table outside with a view of Ocean Boulevard and the beach across the street.  Pretty people were walking by and fancy cars were cruising slowly to see and be seen.

A tricked-out car drove by – shiny, sparkly, loud.  Lo was clearly impressed.

She observed it closely and then commented, “The exhaust is merely cosmetic.”

“Just like yours!” I quipped.

She gave me a look of faux shock.

A musclebound fella walked by in a tiny speedo and a loose fitting tank-top.

“Lo, stop drooling.  Or at least use a napkin.”

“What?!  He’s a very beefy boy. . . and I’m a beefeater,” she said, taking a slow, seductive bite of her sausage.

After breakfast, we walked down the strip and Lo was window shopping, until she was actually shopping.  I sat outside sipping my frozen drink.  When she came back out, she gave me a t-shirt like the one worn by Mr. Muscles.

“I didn’t know whether to get you a large or an extra large,” she said.

“You should always get me grandiose.”

“To match your ego?”

We walked down to the beach and Lo pulled out of her oversized bag a sheet she stole from the hotel.  She spread it out on the sand and then spread herself on top of it.  I sat down next to her and began rubbing in the sunscreen on her shoulders.  When I was done I said, “I’ll draw on your back with my finger and you tell me what I’m spelling.”

“OK.  But where’s the top?”

“Here,” I said, as I scribbled up by her shoulder blades.

“Hey!  What are you doing?” she asked as my finger went down between her butt cheeks.

“I’m just seeing where the bottom is.  Oh!  Look at that.  I think I found the ink well.”

“Yeah?!  You’re gonna have a broken nub if you keep it up!”

After a bit, she pulled out the deck of cards from her bag and began shuffling them.

“What are you playing?”

“Strip Solitaire.”

“Are you winning or losing?”

“I’ll take off my top and you tell me.”

I scanned the beach to see if any other women were going topless.

“Hey!” she said, “I’m over here!!!”

She thought she saw me looking at some of the other sexy women on the strand.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, teasing her.  “So I like looking at them.  They’re like boats: I like how they look, but I don’t want to have one.”

“Oh yeah?  Like boats?  You better watch out that I don’t wash them away with my tsunami.”

“Are you squirting again?  I didn’t even see you touch your puss.”

“I don’t need to with all this eye-candy.”

“Oh, so it’s ok for you to look, but not me?”

“Exactly.  Next pair of sunglasses I buy you will be blinders.”

With that comment, she left her card game and sauntered into the water.  Just at the water’s edge, she turned back to me and called, “Daddio!  Aren’t you coming?”

“Not yet,” I called back, “but I will be.”

“What?!” she called.

“I’m not coming!”

She yelled back, “I’ll fix that!”  She then turned tail and bent over, revealing her shoelace thin thong.  She feigned finding a seashell, but she was just showing off.  She eventually walked in the water, sticking out her tongue at me over her shoulder as the waves crested and fell over her hips.  Then she dove in.

When she returned from the cool dip, she asked, “What do you think of my hair?” as it dripped from its curls down her breasts.

“You look just like Medusa.”

“That’s not a compliment.  Wasn’t she so ugly that she turned anyone who looked at her to stone?”

“No no no, that’s not it.  What the Greeks meant was any man who saw her got hard as a rock and that’s how I feel about you and your wild, curly hair.”

“Nice save,” she said with a smile as she laid down next to me, getting me all wet.

I had just got comfortable and was engrossed in the book I was reading, The Postmodern Condition, you know, your typical beach read, when she said, “Let’s go for a walk Daddy.”

“What?  Now?”

“Yes, Daddio.  I want to go find something nice.”

“To wear?”

“To fuck.”

“I’m still available, you know.”

“Available?  No you’re not.  You’re taken.”

“I’d never know it.”

“You had me this morning.”

“For thirty seconds to help you get your rocks off.”

“So, what the hell are you complaining about?”

“I’d like to get my rocks off.”

“Oh, are your rocks aching?”

“Yes.  Yes they are.”

“Follow me.  Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

We went for a walk through the dunes to a little wooded park, verdant with scrub pines, palms, and colorful flowers.  When we found a little bench, she said to me, “OK, you go over there and just watch.”

“What am I watching for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it.”

I sat diagonally from her, about thirty feet away.  I watched as she sat there looking pretty.  Guys walked by, mostly couples.  But then one muscular black man in a skimpy bathing suit, bulging out of the itty-bitty stretchy material, stopped and asked her a question.  She looked up, batting her eyelashes at him, smiling, licking her teeth with her tongue as she looked down, furtively, at his crotch.  They began chatting.  And then, within not so very long they got up and walked out of sight.

About a half-hour later Lo returned to the spot where I waited for her.

She approached me slowly, with a look of wily satisfaction and mystery about her.

“You can have me now, Daddy.  He’s all done.”  I noticed jizz covering her clavicle.  She grabbed my hand and walked me to the secluded spot where she had just been with the tall, dark stranger.

“Lo,” I said, “What do you mean he’s all done?”

“Well,” she said, “do you want me to act out exactly what we did?”

“Sure.”

She laid down on the bench and began stroking her pussy over her short shorts while I stood over her and looked at her.

“Well, Daddio?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to take out your cock and stroke it?  That’s what he did.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And what did you do?”

“What do you think?  What should a good girl do when she goes to the park and begins masturbating over her shorts and a tall, dark, hung stranger appears pantless ready to fuck?”

“Did you get his digits?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

“Yeah, all of them, inside me.”

“Right here?”

“Right here.”

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, confused.

“To a bar.  I need a drink.”

Truth was, it was hot.  I was thirsty.  I was tense.  I was irritated.  I was horny.  And I wasn’t about to start fucking Lola right there in the barely concealed patch of public privacy.

“Wait!” she said.  “I have to change first.”  She spread her legs and showed me the dark spot covering the crotch of her denim shorts where she apparently squirted.

She popped into the public restroom and a moment later, she popped out wearing just her bikini top and a short skirt.

“Wow!” I said.  “You’re like a superhero!”

“Super Squirt!” she pronounced, swinging her shorts around her finger, grabbing me by my arm.

We went to a fancy hotel with a rooftop deck, pool, and bar.  This was a new hotel and the rooftop was pretty high up there and it even had a balcony with a glass floor.

Lo walked out and leaned over the railing and said, “Wow!  Don’t look down!”

“I’m not,” I said, “I’m lookin’ up – lookin’ up your skirt, that is.”  No panties.  No bikini thong.  Nothing.  Just her perfectly shapely and shaved mons pubis.

We then went and sat at the bar where I ordered a Tom Collins.  Lo apologized to the bartender for my unfashionable taste in drinks, saying, “I’m sorry, he’s old.”

The bartender chuckled.

For the middle of the day, on a beautiful beach day, the bar was pretty busy.  But, I guess for the people who live down there, going to the beach every day loses its allure pretty quickly.

Lo asked me, “You want to see what I saw on the bench?”

“Sure,” I said, not knowing where she was going with this.

She pulled out her phone and pulled up a photo of her with her legs spread and a guy with an elephant trunk hanging down from his crotch standing over her.

The old pervert seated next to Lo at the bar – not me, the guy on the other side of her – looked over Lo’s shoulder out of curiosity.

“Nice shot,” he said.

“Not nearly as nice as when he came on me,” retorted Lo without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” asked Mr. Intrusive.

“Yes, that’s so,” said Lo, followed by, “Oh, how rude of me.  HH, this is,” she said, as if introducing an old friend.

“Kip,” he said.

“Kip,” said Lo.  “Kip, HH,” she said, introducing us.

I shook his hand over Lo’s lap and said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure,” he said.

He clearly had had a few already.  He wore a festive Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts, sandals.  I’d say he was about 46 and beginning to bald.  A bit overweight.  Genial smile and friendly – midwestern friendly.  Too friendly, you might say.

Lo was in a festive, flirty mood and so she teased and toyed with this guy, telling both him and me what happened with her mystery man down by the beach.

“How very slutty of you,” he said.

“I thought so,” replied Lo proudly.

The guy asked, “Will you be my slut?”

“I’m everyone’s slut.  That’s what being a slut is.”

“I don’t know if you could handle me,” said the guy.

“Why not?” asked Lo, defiantly.

“My cock – it’s pretty big and has a lot of girth,” he said.

Lola pulled out her phone and found a photo of her horse cock dildo.  “This is one of my toys,” she said.  “I can handle any cock.  Any human cock, that is.”

The guy was trying to play it cool, but I could see he was intrigued by Lo’s unabashed candor.

What about Lo?  She was flirting and teasing, but was she actually into him?  I couldn’t tell.

We had a few more drinks and continued chatting.  The fella next to us was married, had adult children, older than Lo, and claimed to be in Miami on business.  But it was Thanksgiving weekend.  Who is in Miami on business?

Lola was waxing rhapsodic about how much she loved Miami – the ocean, the beaches, the restaurants.

The guy interjected, “The orgasms on the boardwalk.”

Lo squirmed in her barstool and pressed her knees together.

She looked at me, embarrassed.  I knew what happened.

I said, “You could say, she cums with the territory,” as I feigned spilling my water.

“That’s the worst pun you ever made,” said Lo as she watched me clean up the mess she made under her stool from her perch.

“Really?  I’m sure I’ve made worse,” I said, looking up at her, hoping she wouldn’t have another accidental squirting orgasm.

“I’m sorry,” Lo apologized to our new friend, “Dad jokes.”

“I’m a dad,” he said, “no need to apologize.”

Along one side of the pool there were semi-private alcoves with recliners made for two.  Lo ordered another drink and suggested we take the one that was recently vacated before someone else got it.  She picked up her bag and casually sauntered to her destination.

Mr. Middleage followed her, leaving me to grab (and pay for) our last round.

When I got to the little cabana, Lo was lying down with her Mr. Marriedman next to her.  I handed Lo her drink and said I was going for a swim.  Her antics were beginning to upset me, if I’m honest.

I got in the warm water and rested up against the side of the pool with my drink in hand, watching Lo and her beau.

She lay with her legs crossed under her skirt.  She removed her bikini top.  The guy ogled her.  They were making small talk.  I could practically read Lo’s lovely lips when she said, “That’s ok, you can touch.”

The guy put his hand on Lo’s hip and slowly caressed her.  Lo turned over and he put his hand down under her skirt and I could see him touch her bum as she took a sip from her straw.

She rolled on her side, showing him her tits and letting her skirt open in front.  She said, “You like what you see?”

He said something I couldn’t make out.

“Are you hard?”

Again, I couldn’t make out the words.

“Jack it,” she commanded.

He pulled a towel over his cargo shorts and reached down.  Lo watched him intently.

She loves being the stimulant for sexually starving strangers, the sweet release for men and women who need a focus for their swirling smut-dreams like a mantra for meditation.

She was speaking softly to him, encouraging him, telling him dirty things about her, probably telling him about how she sucked my cock after letting me have her ass that morning.

His head dropped back and he became rigid for a few seconds before crumpling like a suit having all its starch sucked out in one magic moment.

Lo got up and came into the pool.  Her skirt billowed behind her in the water.  She swam to me and said, “Let’s go, Daddio.”

“Mission accomplished?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.  My mission is to make you cum like that,” she said as she grabbed my cock under the water.

We got out and Lo put her top on, and we walked out, both dripping wet, but she in more ways than one.

She blew a good-bye kiss to the man with the mess in his cargo.

Back at the hotel, Lo could hardly wait.

“Did you like everything today, Daddy?” she asked as she lay naked on the bed.

“Most of it,” I said, thinking it over.

“Let’s take a shower,” she said, just as I got out of my clothes and was very ready and eager to have her.

“What?  Now?”

“Yeah,” she said.  “I got sand in my hoo-ha.”

“What did you say?”

“You know, I’m not interested in any pearls in the ole clam.”

“Only you, darling, only you,” I said, amused at her pornographic poetry.

The shower had a small seat built into the back wall of it.  She sat on it, spread her legs, looked up at me, and said, “Was I a very bad girl today, Daddy?”

“Yes, yes you were.”

“Was I a dirty little slut?”

“Very much so.”

“Are you mad that I let a man cum on me in public?”

“No, darling.”

“Are you mad that I walked around with his cum on my body all day?”

“Proud of your accomplishment?”

“Oh yeah,” she said.

“Am I terribly disgusting?” she asked.

“Not to me,” I said.  I can’t lie.

“Show me, Daddy, that I’m yours,” she said.

I wasn’t sure what she was after.

She reached out and grabbed my cock and held it in her hand.

“You drank a lot at the bar,” she said.

“Not too much.  A few drinks.”

“Have you peed even once today, Daddy?”

Now I knew where she was going.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes,” she said, a certain neediness in her voice.

I closed my eyes, relaxed, and let go.

She shook her tits and spread her legs wide as I drenched her in the warm stream from her chin down to her twat.

“That’s right, Daddy,” she said, “I’m such a slutty, cum-hungry, whore.”

I looked down at her, dripping wet, and said, “Ah, the Fountain of Youth!”

When I was done, we turned on the warm water and took turns washing and worshipping each other.

When we finally got in bed she said, “Use me, Daddy.  Use me however you want.  Treat me like your little fuck-doll.”

I had her on the bed just like I did in the morning.  I slid in her puss only briefly and then went back to her other hole, filling her from tip to balls.

“Mmmmm, yes.  Hold me down.  I like that.  Slap my ass.  Slap my puss.  Slap me.  Hold me down.  Hurt me.  Make it hurt!  Make me yours again, Daddy.  I’ve been so bad today.  I just want to be yours.  Yours.  Make me stop whoring around town.  Make me good again.  Make me so sore I can’t even walk.  Make me stop searching for cock.  Make me good again.”  She went on like that the entire time I fucked her until I was nearly ready to cum – finally after a full day of teasing and edging, watching her degrade herself for me and for others, in private and in public.  Finally, I was ready to explode with all that pent-up jealousy, desire, rage, ravage, revenge, lust, love, and “Lo!” I called out as I was about to erupt.

She quickly hopped off my rod and spun around, opening her mouth wide and accepting the offering I emitted like a parched nomad in the desert desirous of every last drop of life-giving liquid.  She wrapped her mouth around my cock and sucked, encouraging me to continue cumming until I could stand no more.

I fell down on the bed next to her and immediately lost consciousness, falling into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Thank You Daddy

 

Black Friday: A Juicy Story Before Brunch

[Note: Continued from the Thanksgiving Day story, Very Thankful]

 

“Do you remember what happened last night?” I asked her as we were getting dressed in the morning.

“Yes,” she said.  She slipped one leg and then the other into her pink thong panties.

“Everything?”

“What are you talking about?  We went out for Thanksgiving dinner and then we came back to the hotel.”

“Right.  And then what happened?”

“We went to bed.”

“That’s all you remember?”

Now she was getting agitated with my questions and feeling at a disadvantage.

“Why don’t you tell me,” she said as she adjusted her bra.

“We came home.  You were more intoxicated than I thought.  I guess those after dinner drinks were strong.”

“They were.  But I wasn’t drunk.”

“To hell you weren’t.  You barely got up the one flight of stairs to the room.”

“Pshaw,” she scoffed.

“And then we got in here and you quickly got naked.”

“Nothing unusual there.”

“And you were lying on the bed fondling and fingering yourself, begging me to have you.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said, now buttoning up her blouse.

“But I said, ‘Lo, I think you had too much to drink.  I don’t think you can consent.’”

“And?”

“Well, if you don’t remember, then I was right.”

“I’m just seeing if your recollection is the same as mine.”

“Yeah, sure.  Anyhow, you were very insistent and very horny.”

“Did you want me?”

“Of course!  I always want you.”

“Did you have me?”

“Keep listening and I’ll tell you.  I again declined your offer, saying you were too inebriated, but you were your usual demanding self.  To stall for time and to get ready for bed, I told you to wait for me while I brushed my teeth.  When I came out of the bathroom, I found you asleep, naked on the bed, face down, ass up.  I was naked at this point too and I got next to you.”

“Were you hard, Daddy?”

“Yes I was hard.”

“For me?”

“Don’t go getting yourself all excited and wet.  We have a brunch date to get to.”

She pouted, sat on the chair and put her hand down her shorts.  “Go on,” she said.

“I was next to you and you made a half-hearted attempt to grab my cock.  You whispered, ‘Have me,’ before falling back into a slumber.  I grabbed the moisturizing lotion from the nightstand, slathered it over my cock.  I had every intention of jacking off to your naked body.”

Now she was rapidly fingering herself under her shorts and panties.

“I like where this is going,” she said.

“I began to do that, but you looked so good that I wanted to kiss you.  I got on top of you.  You were still face down, so I began lightly kissing your back, shoulders, and neck.  As I was positioned over you like that, my cock found its way between your round ass cheeks.  It was all lubricated and so I began sliding it back and forth, swiping it like a charge card through your tight buttocks.  You hardly moved.  I continued until I couldn’t take it anymore and I came on your back.”

As I told her this confession, she came, squirting through her panties and shorts, dripping down her thighs onto the carpeted floor.  I got a towel for her.

“That was hot, Daddy,” she said as I, on my knees, wiped her up from her feet to her crotch.

“I had to clean you up with a warm, wet washcloth last night, much like I’m doing now.”

“You’re so good to me, Daddy,” she said as she slipped out of her clothes and into the shower where she went at it again, self-stimulating in the steamy mist.

When she got out, she sat naked on the bed and put on her sexy tank-top T-shirt.  She reached over to the nightstand where she picked up the pack of cards that was sitting on it.  She had brought it with her on vacation.  Was she hoping to get a fun game of strip poker going?  I don’t know.  She pulled out the Ace of Spades and held it between her legs.  She looked up at me with her mischievous smile and a glimmer of wickedness in her eyes and said, “You know what day it is today, Daddy?”

“No, Lo, I don’t,” I said, wondering where she was going with this.

“Black Friday.”

Lola Painted by Roman Doodle