Problem Solving

Lola on the phone, tits out

“Lola, it’s worse than it was before,” said MILF Meri.

“What do you mean, worse?”

“Just that.”

Meri had called late at night.  Lo was in bed next to me.  I could hear everything Meri said since it was so quiet at home and she was so demonstrably loud.

“Worse in what way?”

“Well, it used to be just a hand-job before bed.  A soothing caress to help him fall asleep.”

“Yeah.”

“And now, it’s like every night, he’s sneaking around, waiting for Scott to fall asleep and begging me to go into the first-floor bedroom and let him fuck me.”  That bedroom is Meri’s ‘masturbation room’ where Lo fucked Meri’s husband and three sons the week prior.

“Do you?”

“He’s very persuasive, very persistent.  And, well, you know, he only lasts five minutes at the most.  So, it’s just faster and easier to give in than to resist.”

“Meri, there’s your husband and your other two sons to think about.  None of them know, do they?”

“No.  Not at all.  It’s the first time I’ve ever had to keep something about sex a secret.”

“What about your solo sessions in that room?”

“I usually would shut the door, but it was no secret what I was up to.”

“Usually?”

“I mean, I’d shut the door, but you know what it’s like in my house.  One of the kids always needs something and they would open it without knocking or whatever.”

She was more upset about being interrupted than the invasion of privacy.

“But this is different,” she continued.  “And he wants to do it in there because that’s where he had you.  He opens up your books and looks at your photos while fucking me.”

“I have to go,” said Lo abruptly.  She hung up.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I don’t want to be any part of that,” she said.

“Why do you think she called you?”

“It certainly wasn’t to figure out a solution to her problem.  And even if it was, that’s her problem, not mine.  Let her figure out how to solve it.”

She shut off the lights and silenced her phone.

“Night,” I said.

“Night,” she replied in the dark.

I didn’t fall asleep.  I could tell she wasn’t falling asleep either.  I looked at the clock.  It was ten past ten.

I looked again.  It was ten thirty.

I wasn’t sleeping.  I could tell she wasn’t either.  I didn’t move.  I hardly breathed.  I waited.

Fifteen more minutes passed.

I felt her move.  She spread her legs.  She reached under the blankets.  Rhythmic motions.  Sloshing sounds.  Muted moan.  Faster strokes.  Sudden stop.  “Fuck,” whispered in the dark.  Convulsion.  Release.

She reached for her breasts and caressed and squeezed them.

I was hard under the sheets.

“Jack me off,” I whispered.

She was startled.  She thought I was asleep.

“What?”

“Jack me off.”

“It’s time to sleep,” she said, playing coy.

“Grab my cock and stroke it.  Make me cum.  Just like Meri and her son.”

She obeyed.

“Like this?” she asked as she held me firmly.

“Use some lube,” I instructed.

She reached into her nightstand drawer and pulled out the tube.  She keeps it there, reserved only for me since she has her own, natural lubricant.

She squeezed a dollop into her palm and reached under the blankets again, sliding her hand around my cock.  That first, cold, wet, firm squeeze is the best part of her handjobs.

“You can’t get them out of your head, can you?” I asked.

“No, Daddy.”

“You’re a bad, dirty, depraved, morally degenerate girl.”

“Yes, Daddy.  Can I suck your cock?”

“No.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“No.”

“Do you want to fuck me?”

“No.”

“Do you want to use me?”

“Only your hand.”

“Why?”

“Because, that’s what I want right now.”

“Do you want to fuck Stoya?”

“Yes.”

“OK.”

Stoya and her anal Fleshlight

She got up and pulled out the Fleshlight.  She lubricated it and my cock properly.  I was in a mood to deny her.  I don’t know why.  She slid the pornstar’s pussy on my rod.  She lifted it and lowered it like a single-cylinder engine.

Stoya and her pussies

She could tell by my breathing I was getting close.  She took Stoya off of me and replaced her with her mouth in order to coax all my cum out of me and swallow it.  I can only imagine that the initial taste was unpleasant due to the lube.  Didn’t matter to her.  She wanted my ejaculate.  She wanted to bring me to a climax with her mouth, not Stoya’s pussy.  I gave her what she wanted and she swallowed every warm drop.

“Better Daddy?” she asked.

“Yes.  You’re a good girl.  Now it’s time for sleep.”

Stoya and Lola side-by-side

Polyglot

Markus Apegren painting

 

“That’s one thick slick dick!” she said.

“Lo, I’m in my pajamas and I’m not even hard,” I replied.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” she said, not picking up on my sarcasm.  “Look,” she said, holding her phone to my face so I could see the surprisingly serpentine appendage which had provoked her initial comment.

“An admirer?” I half stated, half asked.

“This whole COVID quarantine thing has been crappy, but it has also produced some unexpected yet pleasant surprises.  I’ve never felt so connected to my fanbase as I do now.”

a hung fan

“Not connected enough, it seems,” I added, under my breath.

“Well, it’s true that I’ve been getting off to them, but the relationship is reciprocal.  I’ve heard from guys, wives, husbands, single girls, older folks who live alone, even one coed who had to move back from college to live with her parents and was so horny that hearing her parents going at it in their bedroom turned her on.”

“Luckily she had you to turn to,” I said.

I don’t think she heard me.  She was indulging her natural need for self-copulation under the sheets.

“And don’t forget your sister,” I added.

She came.

“Is that the whole shebang?” I asked, wondering if she had any desire left for me.  You know, her ole man lying there next to her, in the flesh, ready, willing and able to gratify her every lustful whim.

“That’s the hole shebangs,” she quipped, slapping her puss.  I could hear how very wet she was.

“The hole who bangs?”

“Anyone and everyone.”

“How about this one?!” I asked, thumb pointing to my chest.

“You want me, Daddy?”

“How did you guess?”

“Then have me,” she said, holding her phone in one hand, spreading her legs as she lay missionary position on the bed, allowing me to enter her.

“Are you seriously texting while I fuck you?” I asked when she raised her other hand to the phone and was going at it with her thumbs.

“Does it bother you?”

“I’d like maybe ten percent of your attention.”

“You have one hundred percent of my pussy.  Go to town.”

I didn’t stop going to Lola Down town, but I was frustrated.

“Who the hell are you writing to?”

“I have a following to satisfy, you know.”

“When you look behind you to see your following, I’m the first in line!”

She didn’t respond.  She was engrossed in her text exchange.

“Are you at least sexting? – telling someone about how amazing I am in bed?”

“Yeah,” she said, unconvincingly.

“Tell the truth, Lo.”

“Well, I was actually telling a couple how sexy they are when they mutually get off to my pics.”

In my head I heard the lyrics, “Cause if you like the way you look that much, oh, baby, you should go love yourself.”  But loving herself (or fucking herself) was exactly what she had been doing next to me for the past hour or so.  I wanted her to respond to me.

“How about you tell me something?” I requested, not politely.

Again, she didn’t hear me.  She was texting.

I pulled out.

“What are you doing?” she asked, as if I had just splashed ice water on her.

“I’m stopping.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re not into it.”

“I was into it.  I was into you being in me.”

“I’m a whole person, not just a penis.”

“And I’m a hole for your penis.  Put it in me.”

“Put down the phone.”

I was on my knees, looking down at her as her legs were spread with her knees on each side of me.  She could see my cock dripping with her juices.

“Please, Daddy,” she whined.  “Please fuck me.”

“Not until you put down the phone.”

“But it enhances the experience for me.  Come on,” she said, reaching down between my legs and fondling my testicles, feeling how soaked they were.  “You know you want it.  I can feel how full you are.  Just use me.  Fill me up.  Fuck me.  Get your rocks off.  Cum inside me.”

I couldn’t resist her voice, though I knew I should.  I entered her again.

“That’s it, Daddy.  Use your little girl.  Drill that dirty whore.”  She was saying the words as if reading a script.  Her eyes were glued to her phone screen.  She was typing again with her thumbs.  “Yeah, Daddy.  That’s it.  Feels good, right?”

Speaking words to me, typing different words to some virtual lover.  She was a polyglot.

I finally let myself go.  I didn’t care anymore.  I released my full load deep inside her.  She held me for one second with one hand, pressing it to my back, and then was back at it – typing away.

I pulled out with a sploosh and she rolled onto her tum, her legs dangling in the air, her feet touching at the toes, her pussy dribbling my ejaculate out slowly.

She pulled her right hand away from the phone just long enough to rub it between her legs and then lick some of the cum off her fingers.

“I love you, Lo,” I said as I rolled over to go to sleep.

“You too, Daddio.”

Lola pumps

Swing

[The following story, which took place a few years ago, was published in the March edition of ENM Magazine – Ethical Non-Monogamy.  Unfortunately, despite heroic efforts by its publisher, this month is the last month of its short existence.]

Lo’s Green Dress from ENM spread

Saint Patrick’s Day in Chicago, where the river runs green and the jazz of a bygone era still swings.  Lo and I had gone there for Lily and Jim’s wedding.  It was an extravagant affair.  All the quaint rituals and odd practices of the public betrothal symbolizing holy monotony.  I mean monogamy.  I mean matrimony.  Sorry, I struggle to find the right words sometimes.  All the focus on the bride as an unblemished princess performing for her solid, stoic king.  There’s just something about it that provokes the puckish prankster in me.  Especially when I know that the beautiful bride in her pure white gown has a devilish desire for exceptionally large cock and that her groom comes up short. 

But Jim is a good friend of mine and a sometime paramour of Lo’s, so we took added delight in the carnal knowledge that behind all the nuptial vows, the oaths of fidelity, and the pomp of the ring ceremony, both Lily and Jim hadn’t any plans of restricting their bodies and pleasures only to the one legally bound to them.

So, as all the other guests let out gentle expressions of awe and shed a tear in reflection of this display of love and affection, I grinned a wicked little grin as I sipped my expensive scotch.

Lo saw my mischievous look and rubbed her leg up against mine under the table, indicating that she had some ideas of her own.

We both knew Lily and Jim to be swingers and so, when the formalities were over and the dancefloor opened up for revelry, Lo missed no opportunity to scandalize the evening.

We sat at the table next to the newlywed couple.  Rather than the usual choice of two entrées, there was a choice of four and so people were passing bites from their plates around for each other to taste.

“You are so generous!” said one guest to me after I let her have a bite of my food.

“Whenever I experience something amazing, I just want others to share in it,” I replied, rubbing Lo’s arm.

“I’m the opposite,” said the young woman to me.  “Whenever I find something amazing, I keep it all to myself.”  She also rubbed the arm of her partner.

“You can have him,” I thought.

Meanwhile, Lo was seated next to Lily’s Uncle Collin.  He arrived to this event without his wife Suzanne and no one blinked an eye about it.  The family was used to their “independent” social schedules.  This wedding happened after the shenanigans that had taken place at Collin’s mountain cottage, so Lo was very familiar with ‘Uncle Collin’ and his love of young women and his E.D. issues.  The whole night, any stranger would have thought that Lo was Collin’s date for the evening.  Given the age difference, they might have thought Lo was his hired companion as his FGE – “Full Girlfriend Experience.”

They danced together – marvelously, I might add – and reminisced, quite loudly at the table, about the days at his cottage.  He repeatedly alluded to Lo suntanning nude along side Lily, going to a farm and milking goats, and they laughed about how Lo lost her bikini bottoms while tubing behind his boat on the lake.

As they told these stories, Collin gradually drew the other guests at our table into their intimate stroll down Memory Lane.  He is charismatic and a good storyteller, but the whole time I was silently fuming, ready to burst out with, “Yeah, you could read all about it on our blog!  With photos!!!  I wrote it better than he tells it!!!”  But I remained silent and let the senior statesmen have the spotlight that he so craved.

He subtly hinted at, without giving too much detail, the nudity, sex, and other debauchery that took place at the cottage.  He was in on the secret we shared with Jim and Lily – that they got married prior to this large ceremony to appease their Catholic families and that, though they lived “in sin” prior to the private wedding, Lily was and continues to be an A.O.L. girl (Anal Only Lifestyle).

After Collin regaled them with his tales of titties and sun, one of the young women at our table, noticing Collin’s wedding ring and Lo’s “hotwife” ring, asked, “So you two are. . . married?”  She asked it hesitantly, knowing it was an inappropriate question that was only sparked by the gaping age difference between them.  Yet the curious guest was inebriated enough to broach the subject and display her incredulity.

“Oh no,” said Lo, laughing and delighting in the twist of the knife that was about to take place, “I’m not married!”

“Oh, so you’re. . . ?” the woman’s half-formulated question hung in the air awkwardly.

“We’re just friends,” said Lo.  “This is my partner, HH,” she added, as she put her delicate hand on mine.

The fact that they weren’t married, but had shared so much together, compounded with the fact that Lo was dating another, yet different, older man who was seated right next to her as she laughed about these sexperiences, seemed to blow the mind of our dinner companion.

“Oh,” she said, feigning comprehension, but displaying complete befuddlement.

The band began to play again and Lo begged me to dance with her.

I demurred, saying, “Dancing is emblematic of our relationship.  When we dance, you do whatever you want.  For me, though, the goal is to have fun.  But all you do is criticize and then, when I stop, you criticize because you always have to have an object of your derision.  Without it, you feel a tremendous void.  And whatever I do – driving, cooking, dancing, cleaning – I’m your eternal object of derision.”

Lo replied, “Well, when dancing, it’s more fun for both partners if one is not stepping on the other’s toes.”

“That’s only possible if you’re dancing solo.”

“You’re right, dancing is emblematic of our whole relationship.”

As harsh as this banter sounds, it was all said lovingly, tongue-in-cheek.

One of our friends at the table overhead us and said, “You two should write a book chronicling your lovers’ quarrels.”

“That’s a great idea!” I replied “That way I could document my long suffering.  I could call it, ‘The History of my Calamities,’ after Abelard.”

“Your calamities,” chided Lo, “you should be so lucky to have an Eloise like me!”

Having fully lost our audience with our theological allusions, Collin remarked, “You two have great erotic tension.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but no erotic release.”

“There’s a difference,” said Lo, “between erotic tension and sexual tension.”

“And what is that?” I asked.

“Erotic tension is in your head.  And you have a great release for that – the blog.  Sexual tension is between your legs and you have a great release for that.”

“What might that be?”

“My puss.”

“How’s your sexual tension?”

“I never have sexual tension,” said Lo casually, “I only have sexual release.”

“I suppose that’s what it means to be ‘a liberated woman.’”

She got up to dance with Collin some more.

Louis Armstrong’s “Just a Gigolo” was being sung by the crooner and Lo, wearing her green velvet dress in honor of the Irish holiday, looked stunning as she twirled and dipped with Collin.

As they kicked up a storm on the dancefloor, one of the women at our table sat next to me.  “Aren’t you jealous,” she whispered in my ear.  I couldn’t help but think of her as Iago.  Though green was the color of the day, it was not the color I was seeing as I watched my Desdemona dance with her Cassio.

“No,” I replied with a smile.

“Not at all?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Want to get some air?” she asked.

“Sure.”

I followed my femme Iago out onto the balcony of the hotel and, though it was freezing in the windy city, she offered me a few puffs from her vape pen.  Not wishing to be rude, I accepted.

Suddenly my Shakespearean companion transformed into a jovial leprechaun and the next thing I knew was Lo, Collin, the sexy pixie elf and I were at The Green Mill, a dancehall throwback to the age of Swing.  A big band was playing with a tall, lean black trumpeter in the lead.  They were pounding out “Tain’t What You Do” as Lo was passed from partner to partner in the crowd that was jumpin’ and jivin’ to the beat.

In my mind, the spotlight was on Lo and her eyes were on the prize – the trumpeter who seemed to be singing the words especially for her, with a peculiar emphasis on them, changing the meaning from, “Tain’t what you do, it’s how you do it” to “Taint, what you do.  It’s how you do it.”

“How you feeling now?” asked the leprechaun.

I felt as if a green wave was carrying my Lo further and further out to sea as I was stranded on the shore watching her recede into the distance.

There, far on the horizon, I saw her up by the stage, talking with the trumpeter who was standing, his crotch eye level with Lo’s face.  She was looking up at him, saying something.

The band took a break and Lo disappeared, as did the band leader.

Collin returned to the table and I inquired about her whereabouts.

“It’s Saint Patty’s Day!” he said, “The luck of the Irish.  I believe that Lo is getting lucky!”  He slapped me on the back and bought me another drink that I didn’t need.  “When in the Emerald City, anything can happen with a little magic from the Wizard,” he said, removing a teal handkerchief from his jacket pocket that suddenly turned into Lo’s satin panties.  He handed them to me and said, “Improbable, yes.  Possible, perhaps.  With Lo, all is green go-go and Eternal Return of the Dame.”

When I heard these words, I knew that I was slowly losing my grasp on reality.

The last thing I recall from the evening was a Julie London song, “Hey Daddy,” being played by the band as an instrumental number.

When I woke up, I was in my hotel room in the bed and Lo was rising and descending on a large bottle of champagne.

Celebration Time

Groggily I rubbed my eyes and looked at her to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating.  I then said, “Be careful darling, I wouldn’t want that bottle to break.”

“Not to worry.  I’m wide, wet, and willing.”

As she proceeded to hump to her heart’s content, she said, “Will you order some breakfast from room service?”

Always the dutiful daddy, I said, “Sure, what do you want.”

“A bowl of Lucky Charms.”

Lo’s Taint

99 Problems: A Valentine’s Day Tale

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

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

Lola’s Good Cheer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lola’s present for Daddy

“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.

“You know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

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

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

“Very much.”

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

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

“Show me!  Let me drink your eggnog.”

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

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

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

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

“Be happy?”

“No, deep, deep inside me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lo gushes for her mechanical lover

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

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

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

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something Lo.  What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”

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

Lo and ‘Glindo’

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

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

“What are you open to doing?”

“You.”

“Now?”

“Well, after I do myself.”

“Again?”

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

“While you jill it?”

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

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

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

“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”

She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.

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

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

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

“I mean a free book for fans.”

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

“That’s a great idea!”

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

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

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

Be My Valentine

Sex Drive

Our first date flopped.  Cooped up since March due to COVID, Lo was complaining that she hadn’t been on a date in “forever.”

“What about the brothers?  Don’t they count?”  I asked, referring to the two boys from across the street who had been making regular house calls to Lo’s bedroom to unload their pent-up pandemic sexual frustration with the help of Lola’s pussy.

“Those aren’t dates, Daddy.  Those are booty calls.  Pity fucks.  Besides, they’re so young and inexperienced that there isn’t even sexual tension buildup.  It’s all just ram-and-release.”

“You seem to like it.”

“Oh, I love it, for what it is.”

“So, what is it you want?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“My only wish is to please you.”

“That’s good because my only wish is to be pleased.  I want to go on a proper date.”

“So Meri also doesn’t count?”

“Well, she did count, but we dated before COVID.”

“I assume I don’t count.”

“Oh Daddio, you do count.  You count the number of men and women I fuck.”

“I can’t count that high.”

“I’ll buy you an abacus.”

“Is that the thing with the beads on it?”

“Yes.”

“That you put in your ass?”

“No.  That’s a different thing.”

Not an Abacus

“Oh.”

“I want to go on a date with a couple.”

“A couple?”

“Yeah, a married couple.”

“You have anybody in mind.”

“Daddy, I always have many bodies in mind.”

“Any particular bodies for your date?”

“Yes.  There’s a married couple that is trying to get the ole flame flickering again.”

“Let me guess, you think that you can help his wick to grow.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Where’d you find this couple?”

“They found me.”

“Not another ad!”

“No, Daddy.  They have been reading the blog.”

“What are their names?”

“Ron and Nicole.  She’s a schoolteacher.  He’s a lawncare person.”

“Interesting.  And how are you going to go on a ‘date’ in COVID?”

We.  We are going on a date.  You and me with them.”

“Again, how?”

“Do you like drive-in movies?”

“Haven’t been to one in ages.  Why?”

“Well, it will be like a drive-in.”

“How so?”

“We’ve picked a place to meet and they’ll go in their car and we’ll go in ours.”

“And?”

“That’s it.  We’ll see where we go from there.”

Skank Suit

We pulled up in the vacant parking lot.  It was cold out for November.  Ron and Nicole pulled up to our right in a late model Cadillac.  Ron rolled down his window.  Lola rolled down hers.  They smiled at each other.

“Hi Lola,” called Nicole from the passenger seat.

“Hi Nicole,” responded Lola.  I waved, foolishly, and smiled politely.

We could see our breath as the winterlike air flowed into the cabin.

My car has bucket seats.  Lo and I couldn’t physically be right next to each other.

Their car had a bench front seat.  Nicole slid over to Ron.  They were in their early to mid-forties, I’d say.  She was pretty.  He was smaller in frame than I had imagined.  They were clearly there to see Lo perform.

Lola stripped naked in the car, but with the windows rolled up, soon the glass was covered in condensation.  Ron and Nicole couldn’t see anything.  The more Lo tried, the more foggy the windows got.

Lo rolled down the window, which had the benefit of allowing Ron and Nicole to see her and to make her nipples very hard.  But they could only see so much.

Lo opened the car door to expose below her chest.  She swiveled and spread her legs, putting her feet up on the seat and fapping her wet pussy.  The couple in the car next to us seemed to enjoy the show, but even I was cold, so I can imagine how chilly Lo’s hairless crotch must have been!

I could see that Nicole had Ron’s cock in her right hand and was stroking it as Lo stroked herself.

That didn’t last long.  Lo was shivering.  The cold air on her nipples made them hard.  The downdraft on her bare pussy gave it goosebumps.  Pretty to look at, but no amount of caressing, slapping, or fingering could dispel the chill.

After about a half-hour of trying, we called it off and said we’d try again another time.

On the ride home, the heat blasting, I put on Poe’s “Hey Pretty.”  The seductive lyrics sang:

 

Hey pretty

Don’t you want to take a ride with me?

Through my world

 

Lo leaned over and said, “Can I just be your cock-warmer?”

“Cock-warmer?  What is that?”

“You just let your cock rest in my mouth.”

Cock-Warming

“We both know that there’s no ‘just’ with you.  Especially after this.”

“I’ll tell you what, you drive and I’ll give you the longest unzipping of your life.”

But just then our little late night drive took a strange turn.

We had just got home and I could tell by the look in her eye she was up to no good.

She walked in the front door wearing that little strumpet outfit she had put on for her audience and, not getting to give the show she had planned for them, she was ready to perform for me.  A bad, naughty little performance for a packed house of one.

She pranced into the living room in her heels, black leather skirt, no panties, leather jacket, sheer blouse beneath revealing her hard nipples.  She turned on the music: Machine Gun Kelly, “Bad Things.”  It was as if she had been waiting her turn in the strip club and the DJ finally got around to her set list.

The blinds were all open as she did her little COVID Cabaret.

“Did you like seeing me in the car tonight, Daddy?”

“I did,” I said as I sat down on the couch to watch her.

“What did you like about it?”

“Your willingness to make a couple happy.  I always say your generous nature is your best quality.”

“I have a lot of good qualities.”

“True.”

“And a lot of bad thoughts.”

“Do tell.”

“If you only knew the bad things I like,” she sang along with the song.

She lifted her skirt above her ass as she bent over by the window.

“Well, Daddy, are you going to give it to me?”

I stood up and came close to her.  I began undoing my pants, but she stopped me.

“No,” she said, “your belt.  Give it to me.”

“Punishment?”

“Yes.”

She assumed the position, bracing for it.

I pulled out my long black leather belt, bent it in half, grabbed both ends in one hand and gently let it fall upon her flesh.

“Oh, come on,” she mocked.  “Harder.”

“I gave her a mild whack.

“Harder.  Wasn’t I bad Daddy?  Wasn’t it wrong of me to arrange this COVID dogging session?”

I gave her a strong spank with the strap.  It made a clear cracking on her ass.  Her body convulsed as if she was surprised by it.  Then she said, “Yesss, that’s it.”

I gave her another.

We hadn’t engaged in this sort of play for a long time.

“You were bad,” I said, reflecting upon it.  “Dressed scantily in public like that.  Like a little skank.”

“That’s right.”

I gave her a harder smack.  I could see the outline of the belt in a red line left on her skin, even in the dim light.
“Again.”

I gave it to her again.

“Harder.”

She got another harder.

“I wish that the three of you could be doing this to me.  You, Ron, Nicole.”

I gave her another WHACK!

“I wish I was tied to a pole naked (except my heels of course) and each of you had a strap to take turns on my body.”

“Why?” I asked as I inflicted another, harder lick of the leather.

“Cause I can take it.  Cause I like it.”

“Why?”

WHAP!

“Because I deserve it.”

SMACK!

“Because I’m so, so bad.”

I gave her one last, forceful spank with the belt before she said our safe word.  She turned around.  There were tears in her eyes.  She reached out her arms and hugged me.  She wrapped her legs around mine.  She was holding on for dear life.

“I hate this pandemic!” she said, weeping.

She slowly descended, her body crumpling around my legs.  She was on the floor, hugging my shins, crying, weeping, naked.

“Come,” I said, helping her up.  “Let me apply some aftercare.”

Spank Me Daddy

I led her to the bedroom where I gently laid her out on the bed, face down.  I went into the bathroom and got out the baby oil.  I puddled some in my palm, rubbed my hands together to warm them up, and gently caressed it over her glowing red ass, sore from the spanking she received.

“Owweeemmmmmm,” she purred, her cry of pain turning to a hum of pleasure.

I made small gentle circles with my palms on her ass cheeks.  I slid my fingers between her ass cleavage.  I ran my fingertips up and down her crotch gently.  I revolved my index finger around her special spot, slowly descending into it, one knuckle at a time until fully submerged.  She moaned with pleasure.  In-and-out I went, first with one finger then with two.  I curled them and fingered her ass much the way I would finger her pussy.

Her body mimicked the motions of an inchworm, rising in the middle and then descending.  Up-and-down.  Faster my fingers slip-sliding in-and-out, until she said, “There!  Stay.  Deep.  Hold it!”  She came.  I could see her pussy juices dribbling down her thighs.  Her ass clenched up on my fingers.  Her body was motionless for a moment before the waves of involuntary convulsions shuttered across the surface from feet to shoulders.

Her sphincter released and I slid my fingers out with ease.

To my shock she was asleep.

I was hard, but happy.  My deepest desire is to please her.

Sticky Fingers

Work on Top, Party on Bottom

“MmmmmHmmmm. . .  Yeah. . . That’s right.  Yesssss.”

These are the words I heard Lo saying as I walked in the door for lunch.  I turned the corner and entered the living room where I saw Lo at her makeshift home office desk in front of the open window that looks out onto the street from our apartment.  She was business on top, naked on bottom.  Her legs were spread.  She had a small oscillating personal fan on the floor under her desk blowing on her bare mons Veneris.  She held her phone with her left hand and was stroking her air-cooled puss with her right.  There was a small puddle on the hard wood floor beneath her task chair.

She looked over her shoulder at me and interrupted her self-pleasure just long enough to communicate to me in primitive sign language that the computer screen in front of her, on her desk, was on for a Zoom call with work.  She covered up the speaker of her phone and whispered, “It’s on mute.”

“You sure about that?” I asked.

She gave me the finger before going back to finger herself.

“MmmmmHmmmm.  Yeah, I’m here.  Yeah.  Tell me again what you are doing.”

I walked away from the sight and left her to her own coping strategy for remote work.

I was on a mission: Lunch.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed some bread, lettuce, tomato, and. . .

“FUUUUUKKK!”

I dropped everything.  Startled for a moment that Lo fell off her chair or that she lost all her work on her computer, I stopped cold in my tracks.  Then I quickly recalled what she was up to in the living room.

I walked in to find Lo in the same spot, larger puddle under chair, phone hung up, and her panting.

I looked out the windows onto the street and there definitely were people looking into the building trying to ascertain the source of the alarming scream.

“Lo,” I began to rebuke her.

“Get me a paper towel, a mop, something!”

I returned with a whole roll of paper towels.

“Can you clean it up?” she asked.

“What?”

“Can you clean it up?  Just stay out of sight of the camera.  I’m still on this Zoom call for work.”

“Multitasking?”

“Yeah, I’m very talented.”

I surreptitiously got on my hands and knees and cleaned up the mess under her chair.

“This is all from you?” I asked, incredulous.

“Well, I started with an ice cube on my puss, then in my puss.  But it melted.  The rest, yeah.  An artesian spring.”

“Maybe we should bottle that stuff. We could make more money than San Pellegrino.”

“Shhhh, I have to unmute.”

She clicked a button and then said, “Yes,” in a very professional voice – so different than the voice she was using with her paramour.  “I think that sounds good,” she said to some pixilated person in the ether.

I took the wet towels and left Lo to her work.

As I sat eating my sandwich and drinking a cold beverage, Lo sauntered into the room, still pantless.

“Thanks Daddio,” she said, sitting across from me.

I grunted and continued to chew.

She could tell I was displeased with what I found.  She tried to explain it away.  “It’s just so hot in here.  I don’t have central air like you at your office.  I had to improvise.  The fan and the ice cube helped.”

“And your phone-a-friend?”

“Well, that Zoom call was just so long and boring!”

“It’s called ‘work,’ Lo.  Not every moment of every day is filled with magic pixie dust and populated with penises for your own personal pleasure party.”

“Oh, but why not?” she asked in her little girl voice.

“Who was on the call?”

“Who do you think?”

“Robert.”

“Nope.”

“One of the brothers.”

“Nope.”

“Both of the brothers.”

“Wrong again.”

“MILF Meri.”

“Getting warmer.”

“I’m out of guesses and I’m almost out of time and patience.”

“Oh, you’re no fun!  It was Scott.”

“Scott?!  MILF Meri’s husband?”

“One and the same.”

“You called him or he called you?”

“Neither.”

“Someone called somebody.”

“Well, he sent me an email and asked if I could talk.”

“Did you talk or did you listen?”

“A little of both, Daddio.  You wanna know what was said?”

“I know what you’re up to and I’m going to tell you, I have to get back to work.  No hanky-panky.”

“You use the oddest, oldest phrases.”

“I’m odd and old, so I can get away with it.”

“Well, you’re going to have to wait anyhow.  I have to hop on another Zoom call.”

“You going to put on your pants?”

“What’s the matter, don’t you think work on top, party on the bottom is home-office appropriate?”

“Is this call for work, or are you sex-camming with an admirer?”

“I told you, I don’t do that anymore.”

“Well, the times, they are a changing.”

“Would you like it if I went back to it?”

“I’ve told you, Lo, you’re free to do whom or what you want whenever you want.”

“I know, Daddio, but I like to hear you say you want me to.”

“Would you do it?” I asked.

“Oh, gotta dash!” she said, returning to her makeshift desk.

She sat back down and I let myself out of the house to return to work without interrupting her work or pleasure call.

I wasn’t back at the office for more than ten minutes before I got a frantic call from her.  “Daddy, Daddy!”

“What’s the matter Lo?”

“I need you!”

“Is this a mid-day booty call?  Because I just. . .”

“No,” she interrupted, “come home right away!”

I returned to the house as quickly as I could and I found Lo on the living room couch, her panties around her ankles, her right hand on her pussy.

“Lo,” I said, suspiciously.  “What’s this all about?”

“I’m stuck.”

“What?”

“I’m stuck.”

“How’s that?”

“I accidentally broke the handle off of my favorite teacup and I was trying to fix it with superglue.”

I’m a little teacup

At that moment I noticed the cup and the superglue tube on the coffee table in front of her.

“And?”

“And somehow my index finger got stuck to my clit!”

“Somehow?”

“This is not the time to tease.”

“I’m not teasing.  I just don’t know how that’s possible.”

“It’s very possible.”

“Only if your diddling the bean while engaged in a repair job.  Were you diddling the bean?”

“That’s not the right question now.”

“Seems like a very pertinent question.”

“The question is how I unstick myself.”

“Maybe I should just let you stay stuck.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she growled, anger in her eyes.

“I might.”

“Grrrrr!”

“I might even invite the neighbors over.  Maybe I’ll charge five dollars admission.  ‘See the nympho who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar!’” I feigned being a circus barker.

“You’re mean and cruel.  I don’t know why I love you.”

“You love me because I’m mean and cruel and I’m the only person on this planet who puts up with your hijinks.”

“What are you going to do about this?” she asked, indicating her sticky situation.

“Let me look up home remedies for girls who superglue their fingers to their clit.”  I pulled out my computer and added, “Or maybe I should post on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram and ask the hivemind what they think.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Woudn’t I?”

I Googled it.

“Do you have nail polish remover?”

“Why?”

“It says to soak a cotton ball in nail polish remover and apply to the stuck spot.”

“DON’T YOU DARE apply nail polish remover to my clit!!!”

“No?”

“NO!!!”

“OK.  Let me look up other remedies.”

I continued searching.  “Ah-ha!  You’re in luck!”

“What’s it say?”

“There are two mildly erotic ways we can go about undoing your masturbatory mess.”

“I wasn’t masturbating!”

“Of course you weren’t.”

“What’s it say?”

“We could either soak you in a nice warm bath with some soap.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Or, apply some vegetable oil to the affected area.”

“Hmmmm, that could be fun too!”

“Let’s do a little of both.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Follow me.”

I led her to the bathroom and got her in the empty bath.

I went to the kitchen and grabbed some vegie oil and returned to her, dripping it on her hand and pussy, soaking both.

Then I turned on the warm water and let it fill up the bath.  It only took a few minutes before she was unstuck.  I poured more oil over her pussy and slid my fingers over her clit.

“Is this where you were stuck?”

“Yes Daddy.”

“How’s that feel?”

“Good Daddy.”

I slid in a finger.  Then another.  Then three.  Then four.  Then my thumb as well.  They all slipped right in without resistance.

Lo moaned.

“What were you doing?”

“When, Daddy?”

“When you got so attached to yourself.”

“I did it unconsciously.  I didn’t even know I was touching myself.  I swear.”

She reached down and pushed my hand from the wrist.  In it slipped, a full fist inside her pussy.

“Yeah, Daddy.  That’s it.”

The water was up around her ankles.  She slowly stood up in the bath and bent over, keeping me inside her the whole time.

“Put your other hand in,” she said.

I slowly wedged my left hand in until it was clasped with my right hand inside her pussy.

“Have you ever been double-fisted before?”

“Noooooooo,” she said, cooing.

Her hips were rhythmically rocking forward and back, humping my two hands until she came.  I felt her Kegel muscles clench, but, unlike when my cock is in her, she couldn’t possibly squeeze my hands out with her orgasm.  I waited until she was good and done before I slid them out slowly.

“That was fun,” she said, sitting down in the bath, putting her legs up on the wall, letting the water splash down on her pussy.

“You may go now,” she said dismissively as she let the waterfall bring her to another climax.

I didn’t leave though.  I dropped my pants and did what she always longs for me to do.  I stroked my cock, using the vegetable oil as a lubricant.   I stroked it over her naked body as she let the water run over her clit.

“You know,” I said, “Cleopatra used to bathe in a bath filled by her slaves with semen.”

“You’re so hot,” she said.

“I bet you’d like to have enough men surrounding you, stroking to the sight of your naked body, to fill your bath with their warm, pearly cum.”

“You know me too well, but right now, if you’d give me just enough for a nice facial, I’d be a happy girl.”

I needed no further encouragement.  I provided the beauty cream she requested and she, in turn, reached orgasm #3.

“There’s nothing like learning history while masturbating,” she said.

“I hate to break it to you, but that story of Cleopatra is an urban myth.”

“Really?!”

“Sad, but true.  Its origins are unknown.”

“Hmm,” she said, pensively.

“What?”

“I wonder if two thousand years from now stories about me will make a loving couple orgasm together.”

“If the reports of your contemporaries are any indication, then, yes, it’s very likely.”

“Good.  Maybe they’ll report that you were able to fill up the tub with your semen single handedly just by looking at my face.”

“It sure feels that way.”

“I’m sure it does, to you anyhow.”

Wet

Grist for the Mill

Tanning while reading Match, Cinder & Spark

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

“Yeah,” she said lasciviously.

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

“Lo, what are you thinking about?”

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

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

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

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

She rolled her eyes.  “This again?”

“And you are a hedonist.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  Quite so.”

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

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

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

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

“You are unbearable!”

“Why do you take such offense?”

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

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

“Primal desires?!”

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

“Oh boy, here we go!”

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

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

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

“Please, please give it a rest!”

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

“The what?”

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

“Oh, back to that are we?”

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

“Really?  You?  Mr. aristocrat himself?”

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

“You are such an asshole!”

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

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

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

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

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

I am the source of your suffering?!”

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

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

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

“What does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lola Down – Wet, Hot, and Beautiful

“What about smart?”

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

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

“There’s wisdom in that.”

“What does that mean?”

“You are wise beyond words.”

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

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

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

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

“Because you say the dumbest things.”

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

“I’m sure you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lo’s Little Friend

I turned to leave.

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

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

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

“Oh, so you want me?”

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

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

I had penetrated her as I spoke those words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cum-Covered

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

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

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

“And my body makes you mortal.”

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

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

Sound

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

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

Lola’s Tum

 

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

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

A Happy Fan

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

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

Volume I

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

 

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

“You’re a slut.”

“Yes,” she said, encouragingly.

“A whore.  A fucking sexmaniac.”

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

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

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

“Yes,” she screamed.

“A sex addict.  A nymphomaniac!”

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

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

 

Artistic Tribute Photo

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

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

 

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

 

 

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

Browsing the Literotica section

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi.”

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

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

“And?”

“Your voice is so fucking sexy.”

“Really?”

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

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

“Way to drive a woman crazy!”

“Who wrote this?  Who is this Lola?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?  Really?”

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

“Ten years ago?” Jupi echoed.

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

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

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

“I was just about to record another chapter.”

“Really?  Can I listen?”

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

“Which closet?”

“In the bedroom.”

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

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

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

 

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

 

 

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

“Could you hear?” she asked, astonished.

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

“Did I do that?” asked Jupi innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Glad you like it.”

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

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

“But I’m right here,” Jupi replied.

“I know, but it turns me on.”

She agreed.

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

“Yes.”

“And. . .”

“And what?”

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

“What?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Can I put your laptop here?”

“Really?”

“I mean, I won’t if you. . .”

“No, go ahead.”

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

Not Jupi, but a fan photo

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

Lo Bathes in Beauty

“No,” Jupi said incredulously.

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

“I can’t believe it,” said Jupi.

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

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

“Who?”

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

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

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

The End

Compersion Perversion

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

Lo Casually Masturbating

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

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

But this email was different.

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

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

“Nope.”

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

“I’m in the park.”

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

“OK.” I wrote back.

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

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

“Guess who I’m with.”

“Bill Murray.”

“No silly!  Meri!!!”

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

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

“Which park?” I asked.

“Guess.”

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

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

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

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

How could I resist?

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

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

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

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

Lo’s Thong Askew

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HH – Hot & Hard

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

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

“Mr. H?!” she shot back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was eager to catch up with Lola.

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

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

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

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

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

“Lo,” I said in a gentle tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stoya Licking her own Pussy

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?”

Then the doorbell rang.

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

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

Lola: “Fuck me.”

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

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

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

Lola: “Fill me.”

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

Then the first returned to the pole position.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mushrooms and onions,” I said unthinkingly.

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

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

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

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

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

Lo Placing an Order for Pizza

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

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

I nodded.

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

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

“You going to cum?” Lo asked.

He grunted.

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

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

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

“Thanks Lo,” he said.

“Say hi to your mom,” Lo said.

“Enjoy your dinner,” he replied.

They let themselves out.

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

“Maybe you should.”

She contemplated that idea.  “Like I am?”

“Exactly.”

Lola Filled, but not full

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

I awaited her return in the dining room.

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

She laughed.

“What?” I asked.

“It was a woman.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“What was her reaction?”

“A cross between shock and disgust.”

“Too bad.”

“Why?”

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

“I’ll take disgust.”

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

“Sorry for what?”

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

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

“I will,” she said, obediently.

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

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

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

“Care to enlighten me?”

“I like to be used.”

“You didn’t even cum.”

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

“With me or without me?”

“If you’re lucky, both.”

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

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

“Just like you,” I said sarcastically.

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

“Oh, him?”

“Yeah, him.”

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

“You sure gave it to him.”

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

“Yes, I saw.  What did he give you?”

“His business card.”

“What sort of business is he in?”

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

“Really?  Where’s his card?”

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

She gave it to me.

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

“I don’t know.  Do you want me to?”

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

“What do you think?”

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

“Eating pizza?”

 

10 Yoga Poses

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

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

Illustrations by H.H.]

Ten Yoga Poses

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

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

This little tease titillated her and the boys for hours.

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

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

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

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

“You will change your tune!” she said.

“My tune?  What will be my tune?”

“I Want You.”

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

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

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

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

“But I think you’re just right.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” I asked, befuddled.

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

“Your hips?”

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

Lola’s New Jeans

“You blew a kiss to the shop clerk.”

“No.  Don’t be daft.”

“You blew the shop clerk.”

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

“Slutty?”

“I’m offended.”

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

“No.  He wasn’t into women at all.”

“I see.”

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

“Who, the two young men?”

“No!  The jeans.”

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

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

“What will you get out of them for?”

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

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

“What?”

“Yeah, a lot of caulk.”

“Really?”

“Yes, to fill all the holes.”

“How’s that?”

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

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

“Oh, I’ve handled caulk before.”

“You have?”

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

“Is that so?”

“Yep.  One hand.  Even two!”

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

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

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

“And the caulk?” asked the other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lola’s Thong and Blouse

“Uh, sure,” said one of them.

“Two lemonades ok?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did it!” squealed Lo.

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

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

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

“Yeah,” said Lo lustily.

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” replied one of them.

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

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

“No girlfriends?”

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

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

The two guys gawked at Lo’s percolations.

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

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

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

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

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

Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose

  1. Anahatasana – Melting Heart Pose

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

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

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

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

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

Bitilasana – Cow Pose

  1. Bitilasana – Cow Pose

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

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

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

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

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

Balasana – Child Pose

  1. Balasana – Child Pose

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

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

“What?”

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

The kid did what I said.

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

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

“Around her special spot,” I corrected myself.

The kid did as he was told.  Lo moaned.

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

This kid needed step-by-step diagrams.

Lo moaned again.

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

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

“Relatively loose,” I corrected.

Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose

  1. Uttana Shishosana – Extended Puppy Pose

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

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

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

Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose

  1. Uttanasana – Forward Fold Pose

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

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

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

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

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

Malasana – Garland Pose

  1. Malasana – Garland Pose

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ustrasana – Camel Pose

  1. Ustrasana – Camel Pose

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asked in disbelief.

“Hold his cock for me.”

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

Marjaryasana – Cat Pose

  1. Marjaryasana – Cat Pose

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

Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose

  1. Merudandasana – Spinal Column Pose

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

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

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

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

“You like what you see?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready to cum?”

“No.”

“Good.  Fuck me, then,” she said.

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

“Yes,” I responded.

“I’m thirsty.”

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

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

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

“I’m close,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

The boys couldn’t answer.  They were mesmerized.

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

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

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

Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose

  1. Ananda Balasana – Happy Baby Pose

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

“Daddy,” she said.

“Yes Lo?”

“May I have my glass dildo please?”

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

She inserted it slowly in her wet pussy.

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

“OK,” said Lo as she masturbated.

“This was fun,” said the other boy.

Lo was moaning at this point.

The boys were putting on their soaking wet clothes.

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

“Right,” said one of the boys.

“Bye Lo,” said the other one.

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

Lo was too self-absorbed to respond.