Tag Archives: Sex Addict
Protected: Reign of Terror
Protected: Sister Sodomy
Protected: Gateway to Bliss
Sunstroke
1
[Continued from Young Lust, Dirty Woman]
Lola at the nude beach
The dad was lying back, sleeping or simply suntanning. I was sweltering in the sun and so I got up and asked Lo, “How’s the water?”
“So refreshing!”
“Looks a little chilly,” I said as I looked down at her pointy nipples.
“It’s delightful.”
“Seems like you’re delighting in more than the water and weather.”
“Go on, Daddio, try it for yourself.”
Was she trying to get rid of me?
I walked to the water. It was like bath water. I didn’t hesitate to get in and cool down as much as I could. I felt myself burning in the sun, but didn’t want to curtail Lo’s little jaunt. I thought that maybe, if I stayed in the water, I would avoid a burn. I knew from experience that was not true, but it felt better to be in the water than shriveling up dry in the sun. I sat in the shallow water looking out at the Mediterranean. To my surprise, not much later, the mom walked into the water beside me. She passed me. I saw from the back that she was much more heavyset than I had thought when I saw her sitting on the blanket. She was rather round on the bottom.
Model, Jennifer Battistoni Kincade
She stopped about five feet in front of me and bent over to splash water on her face and shoulders. As she did so, I could see her FUPA (fat upper pubic area) fall forward like a curtain in front of her. Her ass was large and round. There was so much flesh that I couldn’t even see her pussy. I wondered to myself how her husband fucked her, but then I remembered his enormous member and realized he probably could fuck her from a foot away when fully hard.
The thought crossed my mind that she might be putting on a show for me. She was very attractive and this view was. . .
Uh oh! Now I was getting hard. The tip of my cock was pointing upward like a mushroom growing out of the water. I dared not stand up because then I’d be even more conspicuous, but what will happen when she turns around?
I didn’t have to wait long to find out because no sooner had the panicked thought presented itself, than she did turn around and look right at me. I saw her eyes glance down at my attention-grabbing appendage and she smiled!
Thankfully she didn’t say anything. She just splashed water on her heaving breasts and lifted them up, probably to cool down the underside where they pressed up against her belly. I found it all captivating (and arousing).
While I was contemplating the plump Aphrodite before me, I noticed she was pointing behind me. I couldn’t see by simply turning my neck and so I had to stand up. I figured she had seen an erect penis before and that perhaps she’d take it as a compliment, so I got up to look behind me since she seemed insistent that I see. She was smiling, as if delighted by the vision.
When I turned around, I saw Lo and the boy wrestling or wriggling on the sand. Then I realized they were having a tickle fight. The mom said, “Bella, bella!” That I understood. She thought it was beautiful how they were getting along. She was indicating to me her approval. She doesn’t know Lo.
I walked back up to the blanket and saw that the two of them had separated. Lo was sitting in the sand, her legs spread, heaving heavily. I saw that between her legs, the sand was darker – wet. Oh boy. Did she?
“Squirt or pee?” I asked her, judgmentally.
“Both?” she said, guiltily.
“Lo.”
The father said something to me and I turned my head and saw the mom still cooling down in the water. The baby was in a small carrying seat with a makeshift tent over it.
The father repeated his question to me. I turned to him. He was holding his massive cock and pointing at Lo. “Scoparla?” he said, or something like that.
I was ignorant.
“Fuck,” he finally said in English. “Fuck her.” This he knew. But I was still uncomprehending of whether he wanted me to fuck her or if he wanted to fuck her himself. So I did the only polite thing and said, “Si, si.”
I soon had my answer, for he got down in the sand on his knees and stroked his cock as he looked at Lo’s shimmering body and glistening pussy lips. Soon he was inside her. He fucked her violently.
Lo, for her part, wrapped her legs around his wide torso and began to moan and groan and say, “Yes, fuck me.” I think it then dawned on her that he couldn’t understand anything she said other than fuck, so she repeated the term many times.
I looked at the boy who stood to the side of the four armed, four legged beast and watched with wide eyes and an erect penis. He held his diminutive dick in his hand just as his father had done.
Lo then started saying, “Fuck me you ugly, fat, disgusting old perv! Fuck me with that massive cock of yours! You are so abhorrently hideous! A sea monster, really!”
Occasionally, other beach goers would walk by without stopping. The mother was in the water, no doubt aware of what was happening, but unconcerned.
“Yes, you gross fucking single tentacled kraken! That’s my spot. Fuck!” Lo is quite poetic when her pussy is activated.
Then she was unable to speak as her body began convulsing. She looked up, directly into the eyes of the boy by her side, and her eyes communicated everything: delight, ecstasy, pleasure, pain, longing, satisfaction, disgust at herself and the man on top of her, triumph.
The dad kept on plunging into Lo’s gushing cunt, oblivious of her climax and desirous of his. He pulled his torso up off of Lo’s and held her by her ankles, her legs up in the air, as he fucked her like a piece of meat hanging in the outdoor market. He then let go of her ankles and greedily grabbed and squeezed her breasts. He began to slap them and she responded with more sounds of pleasure. He slapped her tits silly. She began to cum again, but before she could, he spurted his spunk deep inside her. She could feel it and that was all she needed to push her over the edge. Her legs began to tremble and her tits rose and descended with her fast, deep breaths.
All this time her eyes remained fixed on the boy and it was as if the two of them were telepathically communicating mysterious words of love and compassion in a common, yet private language.
The father pulled his incredibly long lance out of Lo’s clam and soon after liquid pearl began to drizzle from her widely dilated lips onto the sand.
The dad and the son stood side-by-side looking down at the kill. There was a touching moment when the son’s little hand reached to his father’s large one and held it as they gawked at Lo lying on the ground, immobile.
Then, from between Lo’s legs a sudden dribble of pee percolated and puddled by her ass. The father and son duo smiled at the sight and, as if it gave them both the idea and permission, they too released their bladders and showered Lo with their golden streams. More than once the father’s and son’s lines crossed and crisscrossed again over Lo’s body as they drenched her in a double dosage of warm urine.
When they were done, Lo was recovered and she got up and walked right past me into the sea. I saw her exchange smiles and some words with the mother who was still bathing there. I glanced at the father-son team and smiled a ridiculously twisted grin, feeling awkward and stupid. They both laughed and went back to sitting on the towel together. I noticed that the father’s meat hung down now, nearly to his knees. It no longer had the arch to it that it did when we first arrived. It was completely flaccid. The son’s was still rigid though.
When Lo returned from her purifying bath, she said, “OK, Daddy, I think it’s time to go. I’m beginning to burn.”
“No doubt from the jealousy of Aphrodite Ourania and Aphrodite Pandemos.”
“What?” she asked.
“You make the goddesses of desire hot with jealousy.”
“You flatter,” she said, smiling.
I put my clothes back on. Lola put on her bikini top and bottom, but carried her shorts and t-shirt. Lo waved and smiled at the family and patted the little boy on the head before giving him a matronly kiss on the cheek.
The Orgasm Heard ʼRound the World or Orgasmic Orchestral Accompaniment
May is Masturbation Month, but Lo’s self-pleasure cums three hundred and sixty-five days a year. It turns out that May is also Mental Health Awareness Month. Coincidence? I don’t think so. A large part of mental health is sexual health, sexual pleasure, and sexual self-stimulation. So, go for it. Yes, you may! Yes, you should!
In honor of this annual celebration of manual manipulation of the genital variety, I bought Lo two gifts: a Lovence Lush remote-controlled vibrator and concert tickets to see the philharmonic.
These were separate and distinct gifts, but leave it to Lo to combine the two.
She put on her sexy, contour-fitting blue dress with a little black jacket over it and her new toy securely and secretly inserted in her hideaway under it.
Lo, Dressed for Success
Off we went to hear some beautiful music.
On the ride there, Lo said to me, “I want to take this sexy little pink plaything for a test drive during the performance.”
“But Lo,” I tried to protest.
“But Lo nothing,” she said, shutting me down. “The vibe is a gift and so are the tickets and I want to enjoy both simultaneously.”
She is a master debater and am no match for her oral skills.
We filed in and the show began with a contemporary violin concerto with which I was unfamiliar. Lo had her right hand on my left knee and indicated that she was not impressed. But then, without intermission, the main event of the evening began – Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony.
Lo indicated that now was the right time to test out her new gift. I inconspicuously pulled out my phone and turned on the toy. Throughout the first movement I gently and thoughtfully applied the vibrational intensity to the mellow and subdued melody of the orchestra. But, as the piece transitioned to the second movement, increasing in passion and drama, I followed suit with the controller I had in my pocket. I could feel Lo’s grip on my knee holding on for dear life and I saw her bite down hard on her lower lip.
Her legs pressed tightly together. The she crossed her legs, one over the other, pressing her inner thighs against each other as she rocked back-and-forth a little. She began to perspire just a bit on her brow. And then, she let out a primal scream like I had never heard before that echoed and reverberated throughout the acoustically dynamic hall.
From my long experience with Lo, I knew that this meant she was also simultaneously squirting and that her Kegel strength was clenching on the small but powerful device. I immediately shut off the remote and pretended to be looking forward as if nothing were happening, but as soon as she regained control of her vocal emanations, I could see, without drawing attention to it, the small puddle that had accumulated under her seat.
Thankfully, the band played on and eventually, people stopped staring at us.
It was impossible to get up and leave in the middle of the piece without further drawing the ire of the polite audience upon ourselves and, in the process, demonstrating Lo’s very wet bottom. But as soon as the symphony was over, we made our way out of the concert hall as the audience around us was still applauding. Lo held in her hand the little pink conductor whose baton had caused her crescendo. She placed it in her clutch and we slipped into the night.
Little did we know that her vocal accompaniment to the concerto would be caught on tape and that her little performance would headline the evening. Perhaps she has a future as an opera singer.
One thing is for sure, Lo’s lullaby proved that there is a permeable line between art and porn.
The End
Protected: Slut on the Slopes
Protected: The Panty Tree
Protected: V-Day is Cumming
Frankie Gets Fucked
Lola awoke in a cold sweat and with a hot, soaked puss.
“What is it?” I asked, startled from unconsciousness suddenly.
“I just had the weirdest wet dream.”
“OK,” I said, realizing that there was no returning to sleep now, “tell me about it.”
“Well, you know how you try to make me jealous talking about what’s her name from what’s that show?”
“You’re going to have to be a bit more definite than that.”
“Anyhow, I had the weirdest dream about her.”
She then proceeded to tell me the following.
She was Casey’s babysitter. Now it was just the two of them, home alone, and she was horny. She had been fapping to Lola Down and the erotica of mysexlifewithlola.com all night. She hadn’t slept. Her sheets were soaked. She wanted to feel another’s flesh on hers, between hers, deep inside hers. She wanted that hot white cum. She wanted to be a slut. She didn’t want him to think of her as that “older woman,” a cougar, beyond the bounds of propriety. She wanted to get down and dirty for him. Shock him. Shake him out of his innocent naivete about women of a certain age. About women in general. About her. She was a woman – a woman with needs, wants, desires, lusts, and deep, dark, hidden shame, disgust, and revulsion. “Debase me,” she thought, “and I can rest in my degradation.”
She led Casey to the bathroom where she had up a poster of Lola Down. She lured him there with a request that he help her “clean the drain. It’s clogged.” He followed her, admiring her ass, against his better judgment. He was ashamed of himself.
She showed him the drain. It was clogged. After only a few minutes, they agreed it was time to call a plumber. He noticed her sex toys strewn around the sink, the bathtub, even next to the toilet. He didn’t say anything. He looked around. She looked at him. It was awkward. In order to break the uncomfortable silence, he looked at the poster and said, “Nice. You?”
They looked nothing alike.
“No, it’s Lola Down. Have you heard of her?”
“No.”
He was shy.
“She likes to fuck.”
“Oh.”
“Do you like to fuck?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Bridgette. Um. I. . .”
“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, removing her clothes. She was naked. She leaned over the sink.
“I guess I’ll get going,” he said, not leaving.
“Fuck me,” she said, protruding her ass back toward him.
“What?”
“You heard me. Fuck me.”
He simply could not believe this was happening.
“Are you a virgin?”
The question took him aback. Was it an insult? Was she demeaning his manhood? He was a virgin, that was for sure.
“I knew it,” she said without a word from him. “Now’s your chance to change that. Fuck me.”
He was fumbling to undo his belt and get out of his pants.
She turned around once she saw in the mirror that he had gotten it out, but not gotten hard. She got on her knees and looked up at him.
“How long have you wanted me to do this?” she said, her lips parted inches away from the tip of his flaccid cock.
“I. . .” He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t deny that he had often masturbated to the thought of her. When she was babysitting and after he went to bed, he had stroked it thinking about her face or about finding her naked in front of the TV asleep. Why had he fantasized about that? Vaguely, as if in a dream, a distant memory rippled across his mind. He saw her, on the couch. He had gotten up in the middle of the night. The TV was on. People were on the TV. It looked like they were fighting, wrestling. They were naked. Her jeans were down by her knees. Her hand was between her legs. She didn’t see him. He just watched. He stood silently on the stairs and watched. She was engrossed in the images on the screen. He noticed something bulging in his pajama bottoms. He didn’t know what it was. A change had come over her. She pulled her hand out of her crotch. She sniffed it. She licked it. She clicked the TV off. She pulled her jeans up. She stood up and walked to the kitchen, away from him. He went unnoticed. He returned to bed, feeling guilty and dizzy. The hard thing in his pajama bottoms wouldn’t go away.
She blew gently onto his detumescent, flagging flesh. It felt good. A tickling, caressing breeze. She put her warm wet lips over that thing. He knew what this was now. He was old enough to know. He never thought it would happen with her. His babysitter, whom he had fantasized about for so long with pangs of guilt. The babysitter he had played football with – who tackled him like a boy with laughs and fun. The babysitter he had cozied up to while eating popcorn and watching “Blue Mountain State” with, against his parent’s wishes while they were gone. The babysitter who had kissed his bruised knee better, causing a tempest of confused feelings in the pit of his stomach.
She moved her mouth, tongue, lips in ways that made his thing grow. It grew hard. She let go and turned around again, facing the mirror.
“Fuck me, Casey,” she insisted.
He moved forward. She was taller than he. He needed to stand on his toes to get the right spot. He couldn’t. She reached back, impatient, grabbed it, pulled it forward violently. “Go in!” she demanded. He went in. She was wet.
She grabbed something from next to the sink. It was a dildo. She covered it with lube of some sort. She passed it to him. “Put this in my ass.”
“What?”
“Put this in my ass,” she repeated.
He took the pointy fake penis and pressed it to the spot. It didn’t go.
She moved her right hand back to the spot. She inserted one, two, three fingers easily.
“Try again.”
He repeated the gesture. It went in.
“Hold it there,” she said.
He held it there.
“OK,” she said a little later, “Pull it out.”
He pulled it out.
“Put your dick in my ass.”
These were very elementary instructions, yet they perplexed him.
“Put. Your. Dick. In. My. Ass.”
He pulled out and put his dick in her ass.
“Harder!”
He tried to go as hard as he could.
“Slap my ass.”
“What?”
“Slap my ass.”
He gave her ass a slight graze with his open palm.
“No, slap it!”
He slapped it.
“Spank it!”
He spanked it.
“Harder. Fucking harder!”
He was hitting her ass as hard as he could with his open palm. It scared him.
“Call me a slut.”
“What?”
His repeated questions were frustrating her.
“Call me a slut!”
“Slut?” he meagerly pronounced.
“Call me a SMILF.”
“SMILF? What’s that?”
“Sitter-Mom I’d Like to Fuck.”
“OK, SMILF.”
“Call me a cunt.”
“You’re, you’re a. . .” he began crying. She could see it in the mirror.
“Fuck, you’re useless. I can’t even feel you in my ass. Pull out.”
He pulled out.
She turned around. She got on her knees again. “How small are you?” she said, observing the thin, diminutive member with wonder. In her haste to fornicate, she hadn’t thought about it much when she had it in her mouth.
She put the toilet seat down. She grabbed a dildo from the bathtub, ran it under the water of the sink and suction-cupped it to the lid of the toilet. She eased her ass down on it.
“Pass me that,” she said, indicating another dildo by the sink.
Casey passed it to her. She took it and inserted it into her pussy.
She had a look of maniacal gratification on her face.
She looked up at him looking at her with wonder. The wonder years, she thought.
She looked down and saw his cock, erect. She realized he must be in incredible discomfort.
“You need to cum?”
“What?” he asked again.
“Shut up and come here,” she said, pulling him towards her with her left hand wrapped around his buttocks.
He involuntarily moved forward. She put his cock in her mouth again, roughly. Her right hand was manipulating the dildo in her pussy. Her left hand controlled him from behind. Her ass slid back-and-forth on the dildo attached to the toilet seat. In her mind she thought about being a sexy cheerleader, the free-use girl of an orgy, a goddess worshipped. She thought about Lola Down. . . .
She was horny.
“Call me a dirty, disgusting, whore.”
He was silent, looking down at her.
Her left hand moved down toward his ass. She fingered his ass and slid a finger up inside.
He suddenly ejaculated in her mouth. The thick, copious cum dribbled out of the corners of her mouth and onto her nipples.
“OK,” she said, “Go.”
“What?”
“Go!”
He pulled up his jeans and left her there on the toilet fucking both her holes.
The next day she called a plumber. A large, middle aged white man showed up. He was unattractive. That suited her just fine. The more disgusting, the better, she thought to herself.
She led him to the bathroom. The same bathroom.
He noticed the sex toys, the poster, the toilet seat with the suction cup dildo attached to it.
“Is this the bathroom or the playroom?” he said with a chuckle.
“A little of both,” she said seductively.
Without much more conversation, they were both naked in the tub. The same tub where it had happened. The thought of it made her feel disgusting and worthless. That’s how she wanted to be treated and that’s how men – real men, like the plumber, not like Casey – treated her.
“What do you think?” asked Frankie, looking up eagerly from the pages in her hand.
“That’s your treatment for the next episode?” asked Zach.
“Yeah. You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So?”
“Well, you’re going to do all that on camera?”
“Yeah. What?”
“Nothing.”
“What is it?”
“Can I ask a favor?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I be there to watch.”
She laughed and leaned in to kiss him. “Only if you call me a dirty little whore while I’m getting fucked.”
“Deal.”
“So you like it?”
“I do, but I don’t think you’re going to get the greenlight to make it.”
“Why not?”
“Frankie, there’s too much that is. . .”
“What?”
“Taboo.”
“I have a way of getting to green.”
“Through the redlight district, no doubt.”
“The way involves a few curves and back roads, but I’ll get there.”
“A dream within a dream?” I asked.
“More like multiple orgasms within an orgasm.”
“I think you need to call Christopher Nolan.”
“Yeah, we could make a film together and call it MetaPorn.”
