Tag Archives: Sex

Only Love Can Fill the Hole in Your Heart

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The Hole at the Center of the World

“Daddy.”

“Yes?”

“Daddy, I want your attention,” demanded Lo in her spoiled-brat tone.  I was busy reading a book.  I looked up at her.

“Yes?”

“Daddy, are you proud of me?”

“Am I proud of you?”

“Yes.”

“Of course I’m proud of you,” I said.  I’ve said it before, but of Gary Chapman’s “Five Love Languages” – 1) words of affirmation; 2) quality time; 3) receiving gifts; 4) acts of service and; 5) physical touch – Lola requires all five and a few more.

“Why?” she asked.

Where to begin?  An open-ended question like that really is difficult to answer, especially after having written five published books about Lo and thousands of yet-to-be-published stories – all expressing my awe of her.

“You know,” I said instead, “it is Father’s Day, not Lola’s Day.”

“Every day is Lola’s Day.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“Please, just give me three reasons why you’re proud of me.”

At this point it began to dawn on me why, on Father’s Day, she suddenly needed to hear my praise.  Because she’s been estranged from her father for so long and, on this day in particular, his absence and lack of appreciation of her was being felt more strongly than on others.  As a result, she needed to hear from me – her father-figure/lover – that I held her in high esteem.  The highest in fact.

“OK, Lo.  Well, first off, you are incredibly beautiful and sexy.”

“Though that’s true,” she said, “that doesn’t count.  No physical qualities.”

“Alright.  You’re an incredible lover.”

“Also true.  But nothing to do with sex either.”

“You’re just looking to increase the minimum of three to an indefinite amount by disqualifying my answers.”

“Try again.  You still need three.”

“You’re a great cook.”

“It can’t be something I do for you.”

“But you cook for lots of people.”

“Right.  That’s another reason why sex doesn’t count either.”

“This is hard.”

“It shouldn’t be, Daddy.  Can’t you think of three things about me that make you proud?”

“I just gave you my top three.”

“Try again.”

“Well, you’re very accomplished.”

“Go on.”

“You’ve got a graduate degree.  You’re successful in your field.  You’re a rising star.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“OK, that counts as one.”

“You’re funny.”

“Funny?  Funny how?” she asked.  “I mean funny like I’m a clown?  I amuse you?”  She said all this doing a spot-on imitation of Joe Pesci from Goodfellas.  We both cracked up.

“And you’re smart.”

Suddenly there were stars in her eyes.  “Smart.  You think so?”

“Of course I do, Lo.”

“Do you know how much that means coming from you?”

“Plethora.”

“What?”
“Plethora.  It means a lot.”

She laughed at my old joke.

“Let’s do it, Daddy,” she said.

“Why all of a sudden?”
“Because your wit turns me on.”

“And you like hearing that I think you’re smart.”

“That too and I want to learn more.”

“What could I possibly teach you in bed?”

“I don’t know, but I’m a big fan of hands-on learning.”

When we got to the bedroom and she removed her clothes, I said, “Now can I compliment your physical features?”

“No,” she said, “just pound me Daddy.  I need to be filled up.”

As I gave her what she asked for and she called out to me “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” it dawned on me (again) that she has a gaping hole in her heart that she attempts to fill through a stuffing a different hole.  Her long line of lovers, past and present, most of whom have been older men, are mere substitutes.  But I, the eldest of them all, what am I to Lo?  Lover?  Paternal benefactor?  Security?  Challenge?

As I continued the quick dips deep into her, she began convulsing and clutching my member.  Tears began flowing from her eyes and greater gushes spurted from below.  A cathartic, quaking, crying orgasm that left her breathless and sopping wet everywhere.

Still hard and sheathed deep inside her, I held her firmly, yet gentle enough to allow her to breathe deeply, her breasts heaving up and down under my chest.

“Daddy,” she whispered as she regained her composure.

“Yes?”

“Are you proud of me?”

“Yes, Lo, I’m very proud of you.”

Fill the Void with Art

Lola Mounted

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[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Quick Anal Hookups.”]

Lo sat down.  Lilly looked up and took out her earbuds.  Suzanne smiled a disingenuous smirk.  I looked guilty, though I was not.

Lola in bed

“Good morning, Lo,” said Suzanne.  “Sleep well?”

“I did,” replied Lo.

“The rain didn’t bother you?” asked Suzanne.

“Rain?  Did it rain?” asked Lo.

“There was a brief shower,” said Suzanne.  “I thought you might have got caught in it after you left my room.”

Lo said nothing.

“What’s the plan for today?” asked Suzanne.  “Maybe some more water sports?”

Clearly she was speaking to Lo.  Teasing her?  Trying to push her buttons?  Lo was firmly in control of her temper.

“Not sure,” said Lo, right back at her, “will you be exercising the dogs?  They look like they have a lot of pent-up energy.”

“Only Bandit.  Shadow is looking spent from burying his bone yesterday.”

Lo was about to say something when Jim joined us wearing only his bathing suit.

“Morning!” he said cheerfully oblivious to all the tension.

At the sight of him, Suzanne stood up and said that she was going to run the wash so that she will have a clean comforter in case it gets cold tonight.  She added, “Anything you’d like me to wash?  I’m sure you’re eager to get home, but if I can help you clean up.”

“Was it something I said?” asked Jim, suddenly sensing the chill in the air.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Lilly.  “It’s Suzanne.  She’s still hungover from last night and she’s just darkening our day with her storm clouds.”  Lilly never referred to Suzanne as “Aunt Suzanne.”

Lilly rolled over on her back and proudly displayed her still virginal pussy.  Lo caught me stealing a glance at it.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she said more than asked.

Time to take my lumps, I thought.

I went with Lo to the front of the cottage and, before she could begin to scold me, I professed my innocence.

“Forget all that,” she said to my great surprise.  “I want to go.  Are you ready?”

“Yeah, whatever you want,” I said.  “But what about Collin?  He’s not even up yet.”

As if he had heard me, he appeared in the front door saying, “There you two are!”  He was as genial as ever.  “Sleep well?”

“Fine,” said Lo, flatly.

“Good, good.  I’ll have breakfast ready in a little.”

“I think we’re just going to get on the road,” said Lo.

“Nonsense!  It’s a long drive back.  I can’t let you leave on an empty stomach.”

There was no denying Collin when he was hospitable.

“HH, will you help me get some wood?  I think we’ll cook breakfast over the fire.”

I went with Collin to the wood stack and along the way he said, “You know HH, Lo has been nothing but kind to me.  I am sorry that I have to apologize for my wife and the way she has treated Lo.  I would love to see you both again.”

“That’s all up to Lo,” I said.  “I don’t make those sorts of decisions for her.  She’s her own woman, you know.”

“Oh, I know.  And what a woman she is!”

“You don’t know the half of it, I’m sure.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“One day Lo might let you in.  But, until then, just use your imagination.”

For once, Collin seemed speechless!  Advantage HH!!!

“I like a little game,” he said.

Game on!

After that, there was not much more to report.  The six of us had breakfast.  Collin tried to figure out the riddle I had hinted to him about Lo.  Suzanne insisted that Lo return soon “because the dogs are just crazy about you. . . and so am I!”

With a peck on the cheek, Suzanne wished Lo and me safe travels.  Collin gave me a firm handshake.  Too firm.  He hugged Lo affectionately.  Too affectionately and too long.

Then Lo and I were off in our car back to the city.  Along the way she filled me in on all the details that were missing from my knowledge of the week and that I have just relayed to you, dear reader.

It was a lot for me to take in, but luckily it was a long and bucolic drive.  After her stories were at an end, we both settled into a pensive silence.  I was thinking about how, no if I could write these stories.  It would be a tall order.  A real challenge.

Lola Ready for Action

I began to ponder, what’s this blog about?  What am I writing about when I write about my sex life with Lola?  It’s about sex, yes.  That much is clear.  But it’s really about so much more than that.  It’s about psychology.  About Lo’s psychology, for sure.  But, more than that, it’s about the psychology of women.  For years of my long life, women were the cliché mystery wrapped in an enigma sporting a thong and a bra.  But then I met Lo and everything changed.  She, more than anyone I’ve ever met, opened up – in more ways than one – and let me in, let me explore, let me discover, let me uncover, let me wander.  The more I sought, the more seemed hidden.  She has depths beneath her depths and her surfaces are sublime.  I’m fascinated and intoxicated by her charisma, power of seduction, and her embrace of her inner slut.

The reason why I can write seemingly endless tomes about Lo, besides the raw material that she provides, is that there is no end to the psychological speculation that manifests in the physical enactment of her libidinous expressions of love and lust.

As I sat silently pondering these fleeting reflections, Lo began squirming out of her short shorts and pink panties.

“Lo, what the?”

“Keep driving,” was all she said.  She began by fingering her clit.  She progressed to penetrating her cunt.  Her bare feet went up on the dash and she spread her legs.  Her digital manipulation had escalated to an open hand slapping her pussy.  I had seen her do this before, many times, but this time there was something more violent about it.  It was as if she was punishing her pussy for being so sinful.  Slap, slap, smack, whap!  Down her open palm went sadistically spanking her vajayjay with unrelenting physical rebuke.  Masochistically, that very same cunt she was clobbering was simultaneously showing signs of sexual stimulation.  With each violent vaginal clap, I could hear her getting wet and each slap sounding more like a splash.

Her legs were spread as wide apart as they could be in the confined space.  Her left foot was close to the steering wheel and her right up in the corner by the passenger side window.  From between her legs she suddenly let out a long, forceful spray straight up onto the windshield coinciding with a loud, “FUUUUUUUCK!”

When she was done and her legs were crossed and her breathing heavy, but not panting, I simply said to her, “You know, I didn’t get the interior windshield wiper option when I bought this car.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” she said, using her shorts to mop up the mess.

Once we were back home, I, with a new understanding of Collin and his predicament, took some pity on the old chap.  In my moment of sympathy, I ordered a larger than life photograph of Lo for him to add to his art collection.  A few weeks later, when he had received it, he sent back a photo.  He had mounted it just above his bed.  I guess that was his mount bliss.  Collin finally did mount Lo in the end.

Collin Finally Mounts Lo

Cumtributes in the Age of Coronavirus

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[We interrupt our regularly scheduled mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” to bring you this article, published in the June issue of ENM Magazine (Ethical Non-Monogamy).]

“I like to be the social lubricant that helps my man get deals done.”

 

“Will you just look at that,” I said as I stared at my computer screen.  Lo sat across from me at the breakfast table, scrolling through her phone, appraising photos from her fans.  The thought crossed my mind that she peruses the tributes the way some middle-aged men from a different era might go through the morning newspaper.

Sunday News, Lola Down, Hotwife

“Ahem,” I said a little louder, “Would you just look at that.”

She pulled her nose up from out of her phone.  “What’s that dear?” she asked politely.

I turned my screen around for her to see.

 

Applicant does not present live performances of a prurient sexual nature or derive directly or indirectly more than de minimis gross revenue through the sale of products or services, or the presentation of any depictions or displays, of a prurient sexual nature.

 

“Hmmmm,” she grunted, half-heartedly.

“Do you know what that is?”

“I don’t.”

“I have to agree to it if I want to be considered for the Payroll Protection Program.”

“So, making money from our books, blog, and calendars disqualifies you?”

“I’m insulted!”

“You’re right.  Those damn Puritan bastards.”

“No, I’m insulted by you!  You think that my art, my literature, my philosophy of the bedroom is of a prurient sexual nature?”

“Of course not, dear.  It is only interpreted that way.  Just like me.”

“That’s better,” I said in approval.

“And you certainly don’t derive any gross revenue from it.”

“Do you mean gross as in disgusting or as in a large amount?”

“Yes,” she said, dismissively, returning to the photos on her phone.

I completed the application and she started flirting with me by placing her bare foot between my legs under the table, as she often does with guys she dates.

“Why do you want me now?” I asked.

“I just want something to do,” she said.

“Something to do, or someone to do?”
“Someone to do me.”

“At least you’re honest.  But are you sure it has nothing to do with the photos you’re examining?”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess you’re right.  But you have stuff to do.  I have stuff to do.”

“Yeah, so let’s make it double-stuff.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said.

Truth be told, I was getting about half as much done during this mandatory work-from-home than I would in a normal workday, and it was all because of Lola.  That truth should not be misconstrued as a complaint.  But still. . .

“I was going to work on my résumé because I think, at this rate, I’m going to be one of the millions of unemployed soon and I haven’t updated it in years!”

“You should treat your résumé like your sex life: if you don’t spruce it up every six months or so, it gets stale.  You should keep a record of all your accomplishments and write them down somewhere.”

“I do, on the blog.”

“I wasn’t speaking of our sex life.  I was speaking of your work experience.”

“Well, being a writer of erotica, our sex life is my work experience.”

“Touché.”

They say ‘Home is where your story begins.’  Well, under Coronavirus lockdown, home is where our story begins, continues, and ends.  Repeat.

We got to the bedroom because, given the opportunity to do Lola or do my résumé, I’d take Lola every time.

We hopped in bed and she said, “Let’s fuck.”

I said, “Pull down your pants.”

“You pull down yours.”

“How about we both pull down our pants on three?”

“Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?”

“Yeah, we pull down our pants on three and then on four, we play.”

The preliminaries accomplished, I pat her puss with the tip of my cock.  I asked, “Why are you so wet?”

“I was looking at all the cumtributions my fans send me.”

“So, you like showing off nude?”
“Am I really that transparent?”

Tribute from Sam and Alia

“Not transparent at all,” I said.  “And those guys put you in the mood for sex?”

“Ya think?  And who said they were all from guys?”

Cumtribute from Sam

She shut her eyes, apparently picturing the images she had reviewed that morning.

Just as I was getting into her, she opened her eyes and asked, “Do I feel like I have a fever?”

“I don’t know, but I think you’re hot.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah, and I’m horny.”

“I might be running a temperature.”

“OK, then, the only way to tell for sure is to take your temperature with my thermometer.  Spread your legs, lift your hips, and say ‘Aaaaaahhhhhh, as I put it in.”

“Funny,” she said and then she sat up, a concerned look on her face.

“What?”

“Every once in a while I think I’m definitely infected with the ’rona.”

“I know.  Everyone does.”

She suddenly was descending into a full-blown panic attack.

“Take it easy,” I said, “Big breaths.”

“I always took you for an ass man,” she quipped, a smile briefly crossing her lips.

“Maybe I was foolish to go to the store to do shopping,” she mused.  “What do you think?  I wore a mask, I brought hand sanitizer.  I was very careful.  Do you think it was prudent of me?”

“It’s probably the only thing you’ve ever been prudish about.”

“No, seriously.”

“Look, why don’t you hop back on your computer and take your mind off of this stupid plague.”

“You brought me into the bedroom to have your way with me and you left my glasses in the breakfast room.  Now I can’t see anything.”

“That’s alright – I look better in soft light.”

“Will you get them for me, Daddy?”

As I began to leave the room, she called, “The wireless is weak in here.  Can I hop on your hotspot?”

“You can always hop on my hotspot, Lo.”

When I returned, she had the computer open on her lap.  I passed her the glasses.

“Need a hand?” I asked.

“More like a cock.”

Sam and Alia read “Match, Cinder & Spark” together.

We looked together.  She scrolled with her right hand as her left stroked my tumescent member under the blankets.

“What are you into?” asked a fan.

“Let’s just say a lot of men are ‘into’ me,” she wrote back.

One artist sent an abstract drawing of her.  Lo titled it, “Lola Down: Simple Lines, Sexy Curves.”

Lola Down – Simple Lines, Sexy Curves

Moments later the artist sent a photo of him cumming on her painting.  “A true genius who loves his work!”

“What about me?” I complained.  “I also love my work.”

“You’re more cerebral.  This was visceral.”

“What do you want?  Me to cum on a copy of Match, Cinder & Spark?”

“No, just cum on me.”

I flipped her over onto her tum, climbed on top of her naked body, and I squeezed my hard cock between her butt cheeks.

“I thought you said you wanted to read?” she asked.

“I do.  I’m a book worm and I want to get into your backpages.”

I applied some lube to her bum and my cock and slid back and forth as she continued to interact with her fans, one of whom said he wants her to love him.  “Do you want love or do you want my pussy?” she replied.

“Do you fuck your followers?” he asked.

“I fuck whomever I please and I please whomever I fuck.”

To one who sent her a cumtribution photo, she asked, “Cum here often?”

To another, to whom she sent a pic of her pussy spread, she wrote, “Cum here often.”

She posted a photo of her under the spout of the tub, water splashing on her clit.  She called it ‘The Human Flying V Guitar’ pose.

A fan texted, “I’m a guitarist.”

She responded, “I’m easy.  Simple fingering and I sing like a Wagnerian Viking.”

She then flipped over and started pulling at her pussy lips as she looked up at me stroking my rod.

“On a scale of one-to-ten, how much do you want me?”

“Seven.”

“Seven?!  I’m insulted.”

“What?  I’ve wanted you more.  It’s true.  Seven is good.”

“Seven,” she said dismissively.  “Barely passing.”

She reached over the side of the bed, her ass exposed before me.  She returned with her Hitachi.  “I want to fuck me more than seven.”

She began enjoying herself until she squirted.

As she basked in her own self-satisfaction, I told her I wanted her.

“Why do you want me?  I look like a fire hydrant that sprung a leak, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am into that sort of thing and I’m hoping to get into you to plug your leak.”

Cum Here Often

She wasn’t opposed.  After sloshing about in her, I pulled out and came on her naked body.  As she cleaned it up, she said, “Wow!  I think you just set a record.”

“Distance, quantity, or duration?”

“All three.”

“Really?” I said, satisfied with myself, looking proud.

“Don’t get too full of yourself.  It was only your personal record.  Not a record compared to all my lovers.  Hardly,” she said, laughing.

She looked at the computer again and said, “Good news!”

“What’s that?” I asked from my blissful post-climactic haze.

“Your article on nymphomania just got accepted for publication by Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine!”

“Really?”

“Yes!!!” she squealed, excited.  “I think it’s due to the sexy photos I sent to the editor.”

“You sent him sexy photos?”

“I like to be the social lubricant that helps my man get deals done.”

With the Artist’s “Signature”

Before Artist’s Signature

Alliterative Agony

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[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “I do it dirtier.”]

I admit, I had been sleeping for untold hours when I finally heard Lo’s sweet whispers coaxing me to awake.  “Daddy.  Daddy.  Are you up Daddy?”

Her hand was caressing my chest.  Her bare leg was draped over mine.  She was all sex.  All desire.  All mine.  Forget that last bit.  She certainly wasn’t all mine physically, but she knew whose bed to return to at night.

My eyes opened.  Her hair was wet, her body was hot.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” she said softly in my ear between nibbles on my earlobe.  “I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

“Fuck me, Daddy. I’ve been a bad girl.”

She could feel me getting hard in her hand.  She liked that I reacted to her.  She enjoyed her power.

“Get on your back.  Spread your legs.  Open your pussy.”

“It’s open, Daddy.  And wet.”

She wasn’t wrong.  I slid in deep.  She moaned.  I think she might have climaxed with that very first penetration.  But it wasn’t the climax of her climaxes.

“Where have you been?” I asked, whispering in her ear as I conjoined with her.

After a moment of deep breathing, she began telling me the story that I have just related to you, dear reader.  Her narrative was punctuated repeatedly by her orgasms.

When she was done telling me about her golden shower with Collin, she then said, “Are you disappointed in me?”

“No.”

“Am I disgusting?”

“No.”

“Am I a sick, worthless, slut?”

“No, Lo.”

“Yes, yes I am,” she insisted.

“Yes, no, either way, I love you.”

“I am bad,” she said.  “Defiled, degraded, debased, dirty, depraved, dishonored, deflowered, debauched, dissolute, disgusting, dirty, a dick-hungry cum bucket.”

With each alliterative self-depreciating descriptor, I thrust harder into her as if punishing her for her shame.

“And I love you,” I said when she was done.

She had climaxed her climactic climax and now she was crying into her pillow.  “No,” she said, “I’m not worthy of love.  I’m not worthy of anyone or anything.  I’m a sick, fat, fuckhole.”

“Lola,” I said, caressing her back as she wept heavy, body heaving sobs into the pillow.  Her body convulsed much like it did when orgasming, but now she was weeping.  “I love you.”

She had to get it all out and then, after many minutes of the tears streaming from her eyes like the juices had from her pussy just a little while ago, she finally took some deep breaths, put her head on my chest, and just let me hold her.  She fell asleep like that, peaceful in my arms.

Craving Attention

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[The Mount Bliss mini-series continues from Will You Come With Me?.]

Collin led Lo down the hall and up the stairs to Suzanne’s bedroom.  They were about to enter when Lo stopped, realizing where they were.

“What’s the matter?” asked Collin.

“I don’t want to go in there,” said Lo.

“It’s ok,” he said.  “She was belligerent earlier.  She had had too much to drink.  But she wants to apologize to you as well.  She asked me to bring you here so she could do so in person and in private.”

He opened the door.

To Lo’s surprise, he didn’t go in with her.  She felt like she was being led to the lion’s den.

Shadow and Bandit, who had been at the foot of the bed, immediately stood up and ran to Lola, sniffing her crotch with great interest.

Lo walked in furtively.  She pet the dogs on the head, both to be friendly and in an attempt to keep them at bay.  Suzanne was sitting in a reading chair next to the bed nursing a drink.

“Sit,” she said.

Lo didn’t know if it was a command to the dogs or an invitation intended for herself.  As a result, she felt at an embarrassing disadvantage.

“Me?” she asked, upset that the first interaction they had in this exchange was a confusion about whether Suzanne was talking to Lo or the dogs.  It put Lo and Suzanne on very unequal footing and Lo couldn’t help but think that it was intended to do so.

“Yes.  Have a seat.”  The only place to sit was on the bed.

“That’s ok,” said Lo.  She stood awkwardly, like a schoolgirl who had gotten in trouble and was asked to stay for detention before the teacher.

The dogs were by her.  Bandit, the taller of the two dogs, was licking her ass.  Shadow licked the droplets that had oozed down to Lo’s ankles.  Lo didn’t know how to stop them or to stop the leak from between her legs.  She squeezed her ass cheeks tightly.

“No, really.  Sit,” said Suzanne.

Lo sat on the edge of the bed.  Bandit and Shadow crowded between her legs, trying to get their snouts up and in there.

“Stop it you two!” said Suzanne to the dogs.  “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.  They’re crazy about you.”

Lo tried to shut her legs, unsuccessfully.

Suzanne pulled the dogs back.

“It’s my fault,” she said.  “I spoil them.  That’s why I asked you to come here.  I wanted to apologize for Shadow’s atrocious behavior earlier.”

“It’s ok,” said Lo, flatly.  She wanted the apology to be over with already.  The amends were worse than the offence.

“You see,” began Suzanne, “ever since Collin’s unfortunate accident, I’ve been bereft of his spousal consortium, as the courts put it.”

“He hasn’t been able to fuck you,” said Lo bluntly.  She didn’t like Suzanne and she definitely didn’t like that she was being treated like a hostage in Suzanne’s room at the moment.  She tried to turn the tables on her.

“Yes,” said Suzanne without emotion.

“There are other methods of partners sharing intimacy,” added Lo, switching to her helping mode.

“As you no doubt have found,” began Suzanne with more than a hint of accusation in her voice, “Collin is hardly capable of intimacy.  He is a man of means, a person who pursues power, a physically imposing presence.  All things I found attractive about him before the accident.  But the accident changed everything.  It was hell seeing him disabled.  Living with him was unbearable.  But, to his credit, he was not only a self-made man, he was self-made twice!  He remade himself after the accident, in every way except one.  And that one deficit has defined him.  It eats away at him.  He has a terrible need to be everything he once was and is crushed by the disappointment that in the way that mattered most to him then is lost to him now.”

“I can understand that, but there are other ways to. . .” began Lola.

“He’s a tyrant!” interrupted Suzanne.  “He can’t connect.  He won’t allow me to have another man, or many men, like you,” she said.  She again sounded accusatory.

“How do you know about me?” asked Lola.

“Lily,” said Suzanne, simply.

Of course.

“Lily is and has always been madly in love with Collin, and with good reason,” said Suzanne.  “He treats her like a daughter.”  There was a long pause.  “Better than a daughter.  Almost like a daughter and a mistress.  Don’t get me wrong, there was never anything untoward about his relations with her.”

Oh no, she just has lured female companions to him like a procuress.

“He has shown her the attention she craves and she has reciprocated by trying to please him in every way.”

“So why wouldn’t she just bring young studs back here to fuck you?”

Suzanne laughed, amused at Lo’s innocence.  “Haven’t you heard what I’ve been saying?  That would be a double insult to Collin.  First to his ego and second to his relationship with Lily.  He has to be the center of attention.  He has to be the alpha-male.  He can’t handle any other man, even a young man, fucking his prized possession.”  She said this with great irony since, rather than be treated as a prized possession, she was treated as a prisoner within her gilded cage.

“But he’s ok with. . .”  Lo didn’t continue the sentence.  She just looked down at the two hounds that lay at Suzanne’s feet.  They immediately perked up their ears and gave looks of anticipation to Lo, hoping that her noticing them meant that she’d play with them soon.

“Lola, Collin is the alpha-male.  The fact that I have needs, that I’m beholden to my body, that I stoop so low, only feeds his own ego.  He delights in my desperation.”

“Then leave.  Leave him.  Leave this.  Get a life.”  Lo finally said what she had wanted to say since she first met Suzanne, or at least since she first heard rumor of the “special understanding” that Suzanne and Collin had.

Again Suzanne laughed a sad, humorless laugh that rang out like a bell tolling the knell of defeat.  “Bless your little heart,” she said, allowing her southern accent to emerge.  “If I only could.”

“Why can’t you?”

“Because, Lola, he’s right.  I am desperate.  I am beholden.  I am pitifully and pathetically attached to him in more ways than one.  With him, let’s face it, I get everything I want, except one thing.  And that can easily be replaced,” she said, rubbing the fur of Shadow with her bare foot.

“One thing?!” shouted Lo.  “It’s way more than one thing.  It’s not just sex.  It’s intimacy.  A partner.  Companionship.”

Before she could go on, Suzanne stood up and began to pace.  The dogs watched her every move carefully.

“Forget all that,” said Suzanne, taking a sip of her drink.  “I have wealth, status, amusements,” she said, putting her hand on Lo’s shoulder.

Lo looked up at her, genuinely terrified.  She wasn’t going to be talked down to, so she stood up, uncomfortably close to Suzanne who still was a head taller than Lo.

“You’re not interested in getting out,” Lo decried.  “You two are co-dependent.  You get what you want and he gets what he wants.  You. . .”  Lo was going to say, “You like it,” but she got cut off.

“Call it whatever you want,” said Suzanne.  “He abuses me and I take the abuse.”

“You’re not the victim in all this,” said Lo, confronting her.  “You just want to play one.”

“What the hell would you know about it?  You have your cuckold of a man who lets you whore your way from door-to-door.  It works for you.  You are in no position to judge.”

“I’m not judging, Suzanne.  I’m just. . .”

“You think you’re so smart.  You got it all figured out.  You’re what, all of twenty-four, twenty-five?  You think you know how things work, how people work.  Well, you’ve got a lot to learn.  A lot.”

Suzanne’s sinister streak was making its appearance again.  Lo was on edge.  She didn’t want to be there in the first place.  This was supposed to be an apology to her, but now she was on the receiving end of Suzanne’s invectives.

“I don’t have to take this,” she said.  “I’m your guest and, until today, you’ve treated me very well.  But I don’t have to take this.”

“My guest?  Did I invite you here?  No.  Collin did.  Collin and his little niece, Lily.”  She said “niece” like it was a curse.  “You’re just pretty decorations, like his art or his wallpaper.  You just brighten up the room for him.  You’re not my guest.”

Lo began to walk toward the door.  Suzanne got in front of it, blocking her exit.

“Did you like it?” asked Suzanne.

“What?”

“You know what.”

. . .

“I don’t have to answer to you,” said Lo.  They were looking eye-to-eye, but Suzanne had a height advantage, especially because she was in heels.

“I see you.  I see who and what you are.”

“And I see you too,” said Lo right back to her.  “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

In a whisper, Suzanne said, “I can’t leave him.  He has evidence.”  She drew out the final sibilant of “evidence” in a way that caused Lo to think of the snake in the Garden of Eden.  Lo was frozen by Suzanne’s sinister look.  “And now,” Suzanne added, “I have something on you too.”

“What do you want?” asked Lo, very scared of what Suzanne might be capable of doing.

“What do you think I want?”

A thousand different blackmail scenarios played out in Lo’s mind.  But it was impossible for her to see into the depths of Suzanne’s dark eyes.  She was inscrutable.

Lo waited.  Suzanne moved from blocking the door.  She knew she had a captive audience now and didn’t need to use any physical barriers to prevent Lo’s departure.  She took her time and walked around the room as she spoke, her heels clicking on the wooden floor.

[For unabridged, please send an email requesting it: downloladown@gmail.com]

Age Gap

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[We interrupt our regularly scheduled story (from the “Mount Bliss” mini-series) to bring you this tale of epistles and dildos.]

 

“Guess who got fan mail?” sung Lola teasingly.

“Oh, what a mystery,” I said flatly, “let me see. . . could it be Lola?”

“Well, uh, yeah.  Duh.  But in addition to me, guess who else.”

“I?”

“Yes you, Shakespeare!”

“And am I allowed to read this love letter?”

“Who said it was a love letter?”

“I just assumed.”

“Here,” she said, abruptly shoving the computer over to me at the breakfast table.

I looked at the email.  It read:

Dear Lola,

Eric asked me to write you something about his special experience with you.

You and my boyfriend Eric have had chats, I know.  He`s always busy with drawing ladies from the internet.  I don’t mind, as long as the women are total strangers and from the other side of the world and I don’t have to be his model.  And we promised each other that real sex is exclusively between us.  He can ‘use’ me anytime he likes. Luckily for him I also like sex very much, so he’s a happy camper.

He tells me everything and shows me all his work.  I must say, he has got some talent but he’s no Rembrandt yet.  It turns me on sometimes when he’s busy drawing.  He sure knows his female anatomy.  At least he knows mine real well.

He told me that you would like Eric to ejaculate all over the pictures you send.  I asked him if he would do that.  He said: If you are ok with it?

I said, I don’t mind as long it’s a pic and not for real.

The thought of him jerking off over your pic was actually exciting me!  So I suggested to help him a little. . . .  That he didn’t expect.  LOL.

We agreed to do it that night.  That night I got him naked.  I kept my shirt and panties on.  I watched him stroking his cock.  It was rock-hard from the start.

I whispered some dirty words in his ears, reading from your blog, and brushed my big soft tits on his back and arms and everywhere.

I got excited a little too.  Seeing him stroking his cock for another girl and me working him up, I was soaking my panties.  I saw some precum on his cock.  I licked it away, pulled my shirt up and let him suck my breasts.  I grabbed his cock as he looked at your photos and I read to him as best I could – one eye on the words and one on his rod.

It wasn’t long before he came all over you.  I mean, all over your pic.  I must confess I swallowed a lot of it.

After that we made this photo for you. Hope you like it.

I got so horny that I wanted him to lick me and he made me come.  I was really dripping wet. After that he penetrated me real tenderly.  Only after half an hour did he eject another load in my pussy.  He obviously had to reload.  LOL.  He even ate my cream-pie!  It was great!

So Lola, thanks for the question you asked.  You are looking very young and lovely.  How old are you?  And have you ever had experience with women?  I don’t mind that.  And how is your boyfriend looking?  And do you have sex often?  Maybe we can exchange some nice pictures?

We hope to hear from you!

Bye now and kisses,

Eric and Charlotte

From Eric and Charlotte

“Lo,” I said after reading it.

She looked up at me, anticipating my reaction.

“It’s all about you.  She wants you.  This isn’t fan mail for me.  It’s adoration of the goddess for you!”

“She said she was reading your writing.”

“One line of the entire letter indirectly alludes to me and you call it my fan mail?!  Good grief!  A bigger egomaniac I never met!”

“Egomaniac or nymphomaniac?  Which is it?”

“Both!!!”

“Fine,” she said.  “I was just teasing with that.  Here’s the real fan mail,” she said, clicking on a different message from her in-box.

I read:

Dear H.H.,

Your power with words penetrates me deeply.  It’s so potent that I lose myself and end up in a place where I am with both of you.  You’re that good!  You’re the type of good that I can begin to feel you.  All I want is to reach through my screen and kiss you.  Taste you.  I’m very selfish, so I may just have to have you all to myself while Lola watches us. Be forewarned.

xoxoxo,

Jen X

Jen X

She also sent a few sexy photos of her as attachments.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked because she usually keeps me at a “healthy” distance from temptation.  Except her temptation, of course.

“I thought it was sweet.”

“It was sexy and direct.”

“Just like me.”

“Exactly, which is why I’m suspicious of your motives.  You despise anyone who attempts to seduce me.  Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“No no no,” she laughed as she got up from the table and moved very close to me.  “Show me you love me.”

“I show you with my words.”

“I want you to show me with your cock.”

“Lo, it’s eight in the morning on a Sunday!”

“Exactly.  This could be our fun day.”

“I get it now,” I said.  “You showed me that to arouse me.  You are only interested in getting your needs met.”

“On Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, sex is the top tier.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Well, it’s up there.”

“No it’s not.  Self-Actualization is top.”

“Well, I’m just going to have to go self-actualize myself, if you’re not going to do it for me.”

She sauntered to the bedroom, removing an article of clothing with each couple of steps down the hall.

As you well know, dear reader, Lo is half my age and at least double my libido.  As much as I try to satisfy her cravings, putting logs in the fire so to speak, it only makes a bigger fire of desire that burns through the logs twice as fast.  Buddha was well aware of this maddening math.  I’ve tried to steer clear of becoming consumed by coitus and I’ve finally reached an age where I can transfigure the intensity of my love from physical acts to intellectual creations.

“Your writing is just mental masturbation,” Lo called down the hallway.

“And your masturbation is just. . .physical. . . masturbation,” I responded with a repartee that fell flat as the pancake I was eating.

I turned the computer back toward me and scrolled through Lo’s other fan mail.  Something caught my eye.  It was an exchange between her and a man named Nero Black.  Nero is another middle-aged married man.  Like me, his wife spends much of her sex-drive on self-pleasure, getting off to all manner of taboo literotica.  Unlike me, she doesn’t first try to use him as a sex toy.  In their exchange, Lola had encouraged Nero to sneak mysexlifewithlola.com into his wife’s reading list somehow, or to buy one of the books or the audiobook for his wife to read.  Lo was convinced that if the two of them were to enter into the dregs of desire together, they would find each other there in the darkness of their depravity.

But for whatever reason, Mr. Black was hesitant to take Lo up on this suggestion.  He was in a sexual rut.  His wife was busy getting herself off in the bedroom while Mr. Black was jacking off in the bathroom.  But rarely did the two sex drives cross paths.  Unable to convince Mr. Black to break this pattern, perhaps because he was secretly fond of it, Lo did the next best thing – try to get Mr. Black to get off to her.

Mr. Black had written about how his wife caught him stroking himself to some porn in the bathroom and she just ignored it, with the exception of a snide remark, as if that kettle wasn’t blacker than Mr. Black.  Lo then clamored to Mr. Black to please please please use her photo next time he has a hankering for a wankering.  She even sent him a variety of choice shots to shoot his load to.  She was also hoping he would get caught by the Mrs. while looking at Lo’s image.

There is a certain pattern that emerged from the correspondences I found in Lo’s naughty letter box.  The women who wrote to me were all younger.  I guess I’m so old that statistically speaking, almost all of them will be younger.  And the men Lo wished to worship her were all older – around my age, and mostly married.

It’s true that, like Charlotte, there were a number of women around Lo’s age who also took a fancy to Lo.  But there most decidedly was an age gap between our respective fans.

A dug a little further and saw that dear Mr. Black had indeed used one of Lo’s pornographic images to find his sweet release and he even paid Lo the highest compliment of writing about it!

I walked into the bedroom to find Lo making sweet love to the greatest fuck of her life – herself.

“What is this?!” I demanded, not waiting for her to complete the self-impalement that she was engaged in with her glass dildo.

She didn’t stop.  She looked up, her right hand still rapidly thrusting in-and-out between her legs.

“Get behind me,” she commanded, evading the question and turning on all fours at the same time.

I thought she wanted me to replace the dildo with my own tool.  I was wrong.

“Grab it,” she said, indicating the handle of the dildo.  “Fuck it,” she said, indicating her pussy.  “Faster,” she said.  “Harder,” she said.  “Deeper,” she said.

As she gave me instructions, she scrolled through her photos until she came to one that tickled her fancy.

Her pussy exploded, rocketing out the glass dildo like a missile propelled by a water cannon!  She’s lucky that her discharge was aimed back at me and down at the bed or else her computer would be beyond repair.

When the waterworks were over and I had dried off, Lo was in the bathroom doing who-knows-what.  I looked at the image and accompanying story that had set her off.

“Wait!  What?!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t look!” she called to me from behind the bathroom door.

But there’s some things you just can’t unsee.

It was an illustration, thank goodness, and not an actual photo.  With it was a confession from an older woman who reported to Lola that she found her son looking at Lo’s photos and the blog.

The mother tried to use the opportunity as a “teaching moment.”

She said to her son, “It’s ok, son, Dad also gets off to Lola Down.”

“I know,” he said, ashamed, his face in his hands, “This is his computer.”

“You see,” she said, consoling him, “It’s normal.”

“But,” he began haltingly, embarrassed to say the next few words, “I’m logged on to your account.”

The mother tried not to flinch or to show any sign of embarrassment herself.  Teach by example.  It was true, she had found the blog through her husband’s search history and she had secretly fapped her snatch to it.  But now the family secrets were revealed and they revolved around Lola.

Sorry to see her son’s erection had not dissipated even through this difficult conversation, the mother offered, “Let me help you.  You’ll feel better, I promise.”

Wow!  I can’t even go into the details of what this housewife and mom shared with Lola about what happened next, but I think you get the idea.

Now, I thought, I bet that’s a story that Mrs. Black would really enjoy.

I Want to Drown in Lola Down

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[The mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” continues from “Shadow of a Doubt”.]

“Yes, Daddy.  Yes,” she said as I fucked her.  She was flat on the bed, spread eagle, pulling her ass cheeks as far apart as she could with her two hands as I lodged my lustlever as far in her lubricated lovehole as possible.  After so long of being apart, we were finally together, no matter the circumstances of how that came about.  I had desired her.  I had dreamed about her.  I had been deprived of her.  Now I wanted to be depraved with her.  She was already there.  I was along for the ride.  We were two feral fires fucking.

“My ass, Daddy,” she said over her shoulder.

I pulled out and reentered in the desired spot.

A few lunges deep down, down in Lola Down.

She opened up for me like a brilliant rose in the heat of an August sun-shower.

“My cunt, Daddy,” she said.

I pulled out, still dripping from all the fresh spunk that was slathered on my rigid rod from her previous “lover,” and descended again down deep between Lola’s labia.  She was full like a warm pool and her lubricant and loose lips made it so that, in comparison with the tight quarters from where I reamed her in the rear, I could hardly feel her hugging my manhood.

“Turn over,” I commanded as I pulled out of her and lorded my staff over her body like a saber.

“First go in my ass again,” she requested.

I complied.  While I was in there, she and I contorted and twisted, legs this way and that, a pull and a turn, but we managed to transpose into anal missionary position so that now she had her legs wrapped around my hips as I delved into her dark recesses down under.

“Alternate,” she commanded.

“What?”

“Back-and-forth from my ass to my pussy and back again with each thrust.  Please.”

I did as she pleaded.  She wanted to be used in the worst sort of ways.  I had lost track of how many times she came.  Or was it all just one orgasm?  The sheets were soaked as she kept gushing each time I uncorked her geyser to fill her other hole.  I was truly amazed at my own stamina.  How long could I last?  Especially after a week of abstinence.  But following her commands took concentration and skill which prevented my mind from focusing on how much of a cock-hungry cum-slut Lola was.

“I want you in my mouth,” Lo said, begging to be degraded even further.

I pulled out of her ass and sat on my haunches, my cock pointing intently toward the sky.

Lo spun around on all fours like a dog at its bowl and began licking from base to tip before enveloping the entire elongated, taut organ into her mouth all the way down to the back of her throat.  She devoured it with desire.

Her debauchery and debased disposition, her unabashed and naked carnal corruption, her wild, animalistic craving, intoxicated by its own brazen disregard for society’s norms flooded my spirit with its dark light – the lure of antinomian revelation in which all dichotomies disappear and thought dissolves back into the primordial sea of the body from which it first emerged and hovered over the surface of the deep.

Shadow of a Doubt

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[The mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” continues from “Lola on All Fours” with this abridged account.]

We left the rest of the crew standing in disbelief of their own eyes and went up to the bedroom together.

Out of sight of the other four, Lo hugged me so hard that it seemed she would never let go.  She began to cry.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” she sniffled into my shirt.

Besides my other kinks and fetishes, I am particularly plagued with a terrible condition known as dacryphilia – the sexual arousal that results from seeing someone cry.

Lo’s tears, her shame, her sexual deviancy, her exhibitionism, her terrible teasing of me all day, nay, all week, and her repeating the refrain of “Daddy” all caused my already hard cock to swell to a stiffness I hadn’t felt in ages.

“Daddy, I’m so sorry.  I’m so embarrassed.  I’m so bad.  Daddy, do you even still love me?” she asked, extremely repentant.  That’s when she felt my love for her manifest in definitive form.

She dropped to her knees on the floor and held onto my rigid member with one hand and felt my soft sack with the other.  She was worshipping it.  “Your balls are so big.  So full.”  If crying turns me on, nothing turns on Lo like a male who is in desperate need of relief.

Tears were still running down her cheeks as she took me in her mouth.  She looked up at me, “It’s been so long,” she said.  I could feel the teardrops fall on my thigh.

Did she mean so long since she and I had been together or so long since she gave someone a blowjob?  I didn’t know.

“Have me, Daddy,” she said, getting on all fours on the bed.

Her puss was still leaking and looked puffy, pink, gleaming and glistening like two perfect slices of tuna sashimi.  I know that sounds weird, but I tell it like I saw it.

“What are you waiting for Daddy.  Don’t you want to fill me up?”  Doggie style, she awaited my mount.

“I feel like I’m in Shadow’s shadow,” I said.

“Don’t think about it that way, Daddy.”

“How should I think about it?”

“Don’t think.  Fuck.”

“Don’t think.  Fuck,” I thought to myself.  Fuck.  Fuck her.  Fuck her cunt.  Fuck her filled foaming warm wet sloppy soaked queefing cum-drenched c*****-infused cunt.  And that’s just what I began doing as she audibly moaned with a sound that reminded me of the final, satisfying chord of a symphony.  All that tension from the screech of the violins, the percussive pressure of rhythm, the rising anticipation of the bass as it ascends step-by-step up the scales, finally resolved in one beautiful resolution that was Lo’s guttural moan of pleasure.  Mount Bliss.

I knew, however, that the tone of gratification was prelude to the new composition that she and I were in the process of creating together.  I pulled back and saw in the darkness . . . thick cum drip from the labia just before I pushed back in, deep and far.

Lo collapsed onto the bed, lunging forward from her doggie style position to being sprawled out on her tum, her legs spread, and reaching back with both hands to grab her ass cheeks and squeeze them as I continued to enter and exit her from behind.

“Yes, Daddy.  Yes,” she said.

[For unabridged version, send us an email.]

“The Good Place”

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[We interrupt the mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” to bring you this timely tale of Lo’s date from Easter last year. We hope you enjoy it and hope that you have also been enjoying the mini-series. We will do our best to continue with the last few installments of the series this week. Happy Easter to everyone! We hope you are all safe, healthy, happy, sexy, and enjoying all of our content!”

“The Good Place”

It was Easter Sunday morning and we could both sleep late, finally.  But I awoke to Lo screaming, “Fuck!  God!  Fuck!  Fuck!  FUCK!!!” and a buzzing sound.  I felt the sprinkle of her holy water on my foot and then she turned to me and said, “Oh, morning!  Best alarm clock ever, right?” as she shut off her Hitachi Magic Wand and pulled it out from under the blankets.  She jumped out of bed, bare-ass, and said, “You have to get up now, Daddy, because I have to strip.”

“You’re already naked.”

“I have to strip the bed.  Get up.”

Reluctantly I got out from under the blankets as she peeled them off the bed to reveal the puddle she had made.  She removed the sheets and tossed them in the laundry basket.
“A happy Easter to you too,” I said sarcastically.  “Was that you reciting the Rosary?”

“No, but I can get my beads, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“What beads?”

“My anal beads, of course.”

“You are a sacrilegious sex-addict!”

“You are a silver-tonged poet!”

“Now that we have stroked each other’s egos, what else would you like to stroke?”

As she was taking out the fresh sheets, she picked up her Hitachi and said, “Now I know why they call it a Magic Wand!  Because it does the trick every time!”

Meanwhile, I was standing naked, my cock saluting her sexy body as she moved and jiggled making the bed.

Once the corners were all tucked and the bed turned down, I jumped in.

“Hey!” she said, “I just made that!”

“Yeah, well it was made just for me.”

“No, it was made for me. . . to get laid.”

“I don’t object to that.”

“Later,” she said, to my great disappointment.

“What do you have to do now?”

“I have a date.”

“What?!”

“A date, with a girl.”

“What?!” I said again.

“Yeah, I took out another ad,” she said, nonchalantly, as she tossed her phone on the bed for me to see.

Lola’s Ad featuring Lola Getting Off to her 18″ dildo

Adventurous, sexy, intelligent, fun female seeks the same for good time out on the town and in the bedroom.  I like to dominate and, occasionally, be dominated.  I’m experienced and in an open relationship, but he will not be part of this.  Trysexual – I’ll try anything!   D&D Free. You be too.  NO GUYS!  Must have voice confirmation.  Send e-mail with info about you and pics.  Need not be explicit, but must show face.

 

“When did you do this?” I inquired.

“A while ago,” she said in her Scarlett O’Hara voice as she put on her pink thong panties.  “And my date is today.”

“Can I come along?” I asked.  It was more like pleading.

“No!  Didn’t you read the ad?”

“Yes, but. . .”

“No buts.”

“But your butt.  It’s such a nice butt.  And it’s such a nice day.  Where are you going?”

“We’re meeting for coffee at the café around the corner.”

“I’ll just sit by you.”
“No, you’ll make me self-conscious.”

“Please.”

I must have been very pathetic because she finally gave in.

“Fine, but you have to wait at least ten minutes before you leave, and don’t sit anywhere near me.”

“OK.  I’ll just sit where I can see you.”

She put on her cutest pink skirt and white t-shirt top, little baby blue pumps, and grabbed a designer handbag.

“How do I look?”

“You’re missing something.”

“What?”

“A pink Easter bonnet.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.  Remember, ten minutes!”

“Yes, I know.  I still have to get dressed anyhow.”

She was out the door and I rifled through my drawers to find something inconspicuous to wear.  I put on the first things I found and dashed outside. I could see Lo’s little caboose sashaying down the street about fifty yards ahead of me.  It was a beautiful sight along with the pink blossoms on the trees and the budding tulips.

I slowed down as Lo found her date and introduced herself, sitting down next to her at a little table on the sidewalk.  Either her date got there early or Lo was late.  In either case, Lo’s date was a very cute redhead with freckles.  Lo had her back to my approach.

I was hoping to get a seat in the restaurant where I could safely spy on the two of them from behind the plate-glass window.  But the hostess seated me outside, just diagonally from them both.  Not only could I see everything, I could hear them too!  At first Lo didn’t see me, thank goodness, because she would have been very cross at me.

They ordered breakfast and mimosas.  I did too.

Lo’s date was not at all what I had expected.  Usually the people who reply to these personal ads are men and women (or couples) roughly about Lo’s age – early to mid-twenties.  But maybe due to the aging of the technology and its becoming obsolete by newer apps, like Tinder and Bumble, it’s an older crowd that is cruising the virtual personals.  (By the way, Lo doesn’t use those more popular apps because she’s afraid of being recognized by her colleagues, or worse, students!)  This woman was in her mid-thirties, at least.  Maybe forty, but it’s hard to say.  Long strawberry-blonde hair, thin, wearing denim shorts, high wedges with straps, and a loose-fitting black blouse.  She rocked the outfit, but I was surprised to see a woman who looked like she could be a mom.

The seats outside filled up and it got a little louder.  I found it difficult to hear them, but I caught snippets of their conversation.  The mystery woman (I didn’t know her name yet) was asking about Lo’s “half-open relationship.”  I heard Lo reply, “I’m not homosexual or heterosexual, bi-sexual, or even metro-sexual.  I’m very sexual.”  I’m sure she followed that with a pass of her tongue over her pearly white teeth.

The woman continued along the same lines, inquiring about Lo’s promiscuity (in a polite way) and Lo said, “I don’t call it slutty.  I call it getting my needs met.”

I could see that Lo’s date liked this sort of talk.  Lo can be very direct.  The date reciprocated.  I heard her say, “Your pussy and panties must smell so good!”

To which Lo replied, “Like roses and cotton candy.”

When they had finished their meals and were drinking coffee, the waitress brought them each a complimentary Cadbury egg for dessert.  Lo was elated.  She unwrapped it and then slowly bit into the chocolate and then said, “Mmmmm, I love to lick out the cream!”

“Me too,” said her friend.  “How about we go back to your place?”

“I’m wide open to that idea,” said Lo, and I could see her uncross her legs and remove her foot from her shoe to rub her friend’s calf.  “But,” she added, “my man is there right now.”

I wanted to leap up from my seat and say, “No, no!  I’m not.  I’m right here!  Go right ahead.”  But I had to keep silent.

Her friend looked very disappointed.  Lo hates to disappoint.  “I’ll tell you what,” she said, “maybe I can text him and tell him to leave us alone for a couple of hours.”

Her friend perked up at that idea.  Lo took out her phone and soon I got a text saying, “Is it ok, Daddy?”  Thank goodness my phone was on silent, because the sound of it going off with a text message may have looked suspicious.

I texted back, “Is what ok?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.  I know you’re sitting right there.  Is it ok for me to take Meri to our place for a while?”

“If that pleases you,” I texted back.

Lo smiled at her friend.  They paid the bill and soon were off to fuck, leaving me with nothing to do on Easter morning.  I didn’t even bring a book!

About two hours later and about eight miles of strolling through our sunny city streets, I finally got a text from Lo.  It said, “Exhausted!  Come home.”

I hightailed it back to our place only to find Lo in the messed bed, naked again.

“Come here,” she said.

“Still love me?” I asked first.

She pulled down the covers and spread her legs as far apart as they would go and said, “Daddy, I love you THIS much!”

“Will you tell me each and every detail?”

“You know I will.  I have a pornographic memory.”

I got naked and lay on top of her and plunged my rod deep in her hole.

She said, “Uh uh.  No.  In my ass.  My cunt is worn out.”

I flipped her over on her tum and slid right in.

“You’re so slick,” I said.

“I’m a well-oiled machine,” she replied.

“Now tell me,” I insisted.

“Believe it or not, Meri is a mother of three and the oldest is eighteen!”

“I can’t believe it,” I said, both about what Lo had said and how good her rear entrance felt.  “You fucked a mom?!”

“More like she fucked me.  She’s been married twenty-two years and has never before been with a woman.”

“Really?”

“She got permission from her husband to find someone to show her the ropes.”

“There were ropes involved?”

“Shut up and keep fucking my ass.”

I am good at taking instructions like that.

“We got here and she couldn’t wait to get out of her clothes and hop into bed.  No small talk, no foreplay, nothing.  So I asked her, ‘What do you want?  To do me or me to do you?’  She said she wanted to do me.  She wanted to fuck me good and hard.  She has quite the domineering streak about her.  So I pulled out my dildo and placed it in her hands.  She was amazed at the size of it.  I told her not to be shy.  I slipped out of my panties and pulled my skirt over my waist and lay on the bed with my legs spread.  She began by fingering me.  She asked if it was ok first, which I thought was nice.  I said, ‘Just fuck me like your little whore.’  That got her going.  She used the dildo on my puss, ramming it fast and hard, hitting my spot.  She never saw a woman squirt before in real life and she was thrilled that she was able to do that for me!  Little did she know that I squirt just about every time.”

Our next book will be called “Slut Life” about Lola’s adventures by the ocean

“Are you squirting now?” I interrupted to ask, since I felt her juices dripping down my thigh.

“Not yet, Daddy.  I’m just soaked.”

I increased my speed and depth.

“That’s it,” she said.  “Like she did with the dildo in my cunt.”

She pulled up a photo of Meri from her phone to look at it.  “She has great tits,” Lo said as she began squirting on me with force, soaking the bed.  She suddenly fell forward, lying flat on her tum in the puddle she made, convulsing like a fish out of water.  There was no way I could stay in her.  I grabbed my drenched, hard baton and lay on my back next to her.

“Are you ok?” I asked.

I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head.  She was temporarily blitzed out.

When she came to, she said, “What an amazing day!”

“Full of Easter Eggs,” I said, jokingly.

She played with my hard cock with her right hand, seeing how it bounced back into its rigid upright position when she would bend it down.

“Christ has risen.  Christ will cum again,” she said, stroking my member from the base to the tip.

“Good for Christ, but I haven’t cum once!”

She pivoted on her tum so her mouth was over my cock and she put out her tongue as if to receive Holy Communion.  “May I have your flesh?” she asked.

She took my cock in her mouth and slid up and down the shaft.  She went all the way down to my balls and took them in her warm, wet mouth.  It felt good, but I needed sweet release.  She returned to the tip and looked up at me.

Momentarily, she pulled up off my cock in order to say, “I wanted to go down on her.  I wanted to return the fuck for her.  But she didn’t let me.  She just fucked me fast and furious and filled my cunt with all sixteen inches of my dildo.  I didn’t get to give her any pleasure at all, other than the pleasure of pounding me like a boss.”

Lo went back down on my dick looking up at me again.  “Am I a good girl, Daddy?” she asked, looking for approval.

“Did Meri think you were a good girl?”

“I don’t know,” she said as her fingers fondled me between my legs, lightly.  “I came by the bucket load, and then she said she had to get going.  She had plans with her family for Easter, she said.  She got dressed and simply blew me a kiss as she let herself out.  I was too weak to even get up.  I used my skirt to soak up what I could and texted you.”

“You’re a very good girl,” I said.

I was lying on my back and she got up, straddled me with her knees beside my hips, and she grabbed her ass cheeks with each hand, spread them, and slowly let herself down on my erect cock, guiding it directly into her anus, slowly.  I’m not nearly as long as her dildo, but she slid down on me until she was sitting on my pelvis.  She pulled her feet in between my legs and sat there, her back to me, and she rocked gently back and forth to feel me deep inside her.  I could feel the tip of my member penetrating as far up as possible.  She spread her legs and began fingering her clit.  She grabbed her red dildo, the one that Meri had used on her, and slipped it up and in her pussy.  I could feel it enter her.  She was filled and tight and moaning a tune of pleasure.  I lay on my back enjoying her ride.  She called over her shoulder to me, “Cum in me.  Cum.  Cum and fill me up.  I want to feel your hot. . .”

She didn’t finish her command before I obediently complied.  I pulsed with strong spurts of spunk into her hole.  She tightened her grip on me even further and I felt as if she wouldn’t let go.  I didn’t mind.  I liked being there, deep inside her.

I felt her slide the dildo out from her front hole as she squirted down onto her ankles.  And then, after a long sigh of relief, she slowly lifted her bum up off of me.  I slid out of her as she eased her way up, with both hands grabbing her ass again, and she let all of my cream filling slowly leak out onto my flaccid cock.

Her whole body crumbled as if, deprived of my rigidity, it had no strength to remain upright.  She lay next to me on the bed.  She curled into her little spoon as I cuddled her as her big spoon.  She fell off to sleep in the midst of all the mess she and I had made together, not to mention the mess Meri had made of her.  It was only a cat nap.  When she awoke, I whispered in her ear, asking her, “Would you like to watch an episode of “The Good Place?”

“Mmmmmm,” she said, moving her right hand behind her, reaching down to my cock and then inserting a finger in her soaked ass, and she said, “This is the good place.”

Hallmark of a Happy Hotwife

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Lola helps her bf cum

Writing is a solitary act.  Writing a sex blog is not.  Almost by definition, writing a sex blog is an invitation for strangers to enter your bedroom and allow them easy access to, well, to your deepest, darkest, most mysterious parts of yourself.

“Are there pictures of you on your blog?” asked one fella who apparently got Lo’s email, but had not explored the website for himself yet.

Lo’s sarcastic and salacious response was, “Is there water in the ocean?  Only one way to find out – dive in and get wet!”

After a couple sent us a photo of the two of them making love while simultaneously looking at Lo’s photos on the computer, she turned to me and said, “I guess I’m just a hopeless romantic.  I love helping couples cum together.”

My Friend from NJ enjoying the stories about me.

A different fella sent Lo some sexy photos of himself hard for her and asked for some in return.

“If you keep it up, I promise you’ll get more,” she said, never shy of telling men to keep it up.

“What’s your name?” asked Lo of one admirer.

“Justin.”

“Oh, my man was ‘just in’ me!”

Her dad jokes are equal to her daddy issues.

“How are your book sales doing?” inquired a reader.

“Well, we have 5 books out. They sell fairly regularly, like 3-4 a week. The e-books do better – probably because a lot of married men don’t want some smut to show up on their doorstep for their wives to find. That’s my job.”

“What is?”

“To be some slut who shows up on their doorstep for their wives to find.”

“Which do you recommend, the e-book or the hard-copy?”

“I recommend you get it hard.”

“Do you like to get tribute pics?” asked one guy.

“Cum to me – big, small, sissy, straight – I like it all!”

One guy sent Lo a pic of himself getting off to her photos while his wife was sleeping naked in the bed next to him.  She turned to me and said, “I love being the goto girl for married men.  The only thing hotter than that is being the goto mutual masturbation material for couples.”

One morning, before Christmas, she posted a bunch of photos of her in a red dress, exposing her naked crotch.

“What are you up to?” I asked her naively.

“I’m just spreading the cheer,” she answered as she showed me the computer screen filled with her pussy pics.

“Do men just want to see your pussy?”

“No,” she said, “women do too.”

“I mean, are people only interested in that one part?”

She shot back, “They say that the whole is greater than the parts, but my hole isn’t greater than all my parts.”

“Let’s play a game,” I suggested.

“Oooo, what sort of game?”

“You spread your legs and I’ll pretend to be NASA and I’ll be the first to get a photograph of a black hole.”

“Funny, but no.  Instead of photographing me, why don’t you bend me over the bed and fuck me?”

“I can’t, I have to get to work.”

“Just bend me over and fill me up.”

“It’s not a Quickie Mart.  I’m not just gonna fill ’er up and grab a coffee.”

“Why not?”

I walked over to her.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and spread them far apart.  I touched her inner thigh.

“Are you mad at me, Daddy?” she asked in her little girl tone of voice, looking up at me.

“I want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Then I should be doing you.  I wanted you last night,” she said.

“Yeah, well you didn’t say so.”

“You couldn’t tell from how I was stroking your cock?”

“You didn’t say you wanted me.”

“I didn’t know I had to use a magic formula, like ‘Open Sesame.’”

“I like to hear you say it.”

She grabbed my cock over my slacks as I stood at the side of the bed.  She used her other hand to spread her pussy lips.  “Get back in bed.”

“Why?”

“Cause I said so.”

“Why?”

“Cause.”

“What do you want?”

“Get back in bed and I’ll show you.”

I climbed back into the bed, still in my suit.  “OK.”

She fondled me more.  “Don’t you want me, Daddy?”

“I want to hear you articulate your needs.”

“Fuck me.”

Though it was a command and not a request, nonetheless, I pulled down my pants and got between her legs and said, “Open says me.”

“Oh, Daddy, you don’t have to say any magic formula for me.  I’m always open.”

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“I have a lot of things to do.  You were just first on the list.”

I went to work.  It was her “work at home” day.  Yeah, right.

When I returned, a little after one, for lunch, I found her in the same position I had left her: on the bed, computer open, legs open, fingers between her legs.

“I’m ready for lunch, Daddy,” she said.  “Feed me.”

“What do you want?”

“Your meat.”

This was as close as a request as I was going to get.  I got out of my suit this time and into bed next to her.  I reached down between her legs.

“You’re sopping wet.”

“Maybe it’s because of my multiple orgasms.”

“What multiple orgasms?” I feigned shock.

“I jilled it this morning.”

“Without me?!”  Again, faux-surprise.

“I got lonely.”

“Lonely or horny?”

“Both.”

“So you jilled it all morning?”

“Not all morning.  It went into the afternoon.”

“And you still want me now?”

“Do you want me?” she asked, back to playing coy.

“Why don’t you just come out and ask for what you want?” I asked in exasperation.

“It’s as obvious as 2+2=4!”

“Then why don’t you just say ‘four’?”

“What do you think this is, golf?”

“I’m hoping for a hole in one.”

“Two in one hole would be better,” she said.

I was poised to penetrate her.  She licked her fingers and put them down below to wriggle herself a bit.  She moaned, “Oh yeah, that feels good.”  Then, a little later, she moaned again, “I like that.  Yes.”  Followed by, “Mmmmm, deeper.”

I said to her, “Lo, I’m not even in you.  I’m patiently waiting my turn to enter.”

“Just a little while longer,” she whispered, enchanted by her own ability to make love to herself.

After she came, I got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To eat my lunch.  That’s what I came home to do.”

“But what about me?” she whined.

“Darling, I’ve been at work while you’ve been home just sitting here twiddling your thumbs.”

“And diddling my bean!”

“Well, don’t let me interrupt your obviously packed calendar.”

“Don’t go!” she pleaded.

“If you want something, you need to learn to ask.”

“Get in the bed and fuck me.”

“See, you sound like a drill sergeant barking orders at privates.”

“I’ll bark at your privates alright.”

“That’s it, I’m going,” I said, actually pissed at her.

“Oh, don’t be mad Daddy.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to fight.”

“We’re not fighting.”

“We’re not?” she asked.

“No,” I said, “The friction point between your feelings and mine – that’s called a relationship.”

“Well, come over here and let me grease up that friction point.”

I returned to the bed and this time her hands were between her legs, but not to frig herself, but to pull her pussy lips apart, opening her doors wide to accept my piston.

I slid in with a slurping sound and she whispered, “It’s a well-oiled machine.”

It was so well lubricated that I unthinkingly commented, “It’s lost in there like a needle in a haystack!”

“Is it my fault that you’re like a needle?”

“That’s it,” I said, pulling out.  “I’m going to go out for lunch.”

I walked out of the room and she threw a pillow at the door.

I popped back in and looked at her.

“Unarmed?” I asked.

Another pillow flew at me.  I quickly shut the bedroom door, blocking her attempt.

Opening the door again, I asked, “So, do you want me?”

“Well, on the one hand, I do, but on the other hand, I’m still mad at you.”

“Which hand wants me? – use that one. . . on yourself.”

I left and she yelled out, “Fuck you!”

When I got home later that day, I found dinner on the table and Lola running up to me at the door, giving me a big, wet kiss on the lips.

I pulled back a little and looked at her in the skimpy outfit she was wearing.

“That’s a beautiful, sexy sundress,” I remarked.

“It’s not a sundress.  It’s a shirt.”

“Well, it should be a sundress.  What an ass!  You look great in that sundress!”

“It’s not a sundress!”

“Let me take a picture of you.”

“No.  But I think it’s cute that you want to.”

“You look so good.  Let me take a few pics. . . for posterity’s sake.”

When I said that, she turned around, bent over, and proudly displayed to me her posterity.

“Lo,” I said, “I think I’m allergic to you.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because every time I get near your naked body my penis swells up.  Why don’t we skip dinner and get right to dessert?”

“Oh, Daddy, this isn’t for you,” she said apologetically.

“What?”

“No, I’m expecting Robert for dinner.”

“Robert?!  Seriously?”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.  I should have told you.”

“When did these plans happen?”

“Well. . . um,” she was stalling.

“Lo.”

“After you left.  I was mad at you, so I called him and invited him over for dinner.”

“Looks like you’re expecting him to eat more than the chicken breast you made,” I said, looking again at the sexy little number she was wearing.

“Would you like a plate?” she asked, offering a consolation prize.

“No,” I said.  “I’m tired and I’m hungry.  I’d like to change out of my suit, sit at the table, and be waited on hand-and-foot.”

“That still might happen,” she said.  “The night is young.”

“And I’m old.”

“You can say that again.”

“And I’m old.”

“I wish I could turn back time to when you were in your thirties.”

“You weren’t even born then.”

“But Daddy,” she said, pressing her tits up against my chest, “I’ll save my sinning for you.  I’ll be a good girl, but I’ll be ready to be bad with you.  You’re my sexual rebellion, my slut revolution, my love liberation.”

I looked longingly at the warm meal, meticulously laid out on the table.

Lo turned my head so I was looking back at her.

“I liked the picture you texted me,” I said, referring to a naughty text she had sent me while I was at work.

“Did you jack off to it at work?”

“No!”

“Well why not?  You weren’t the only one I sent it to, you know.  A lot of other guys did jack off to it at work.  I’m beginning to think you don’t love me as much as they do.”

“Because I don’t jack off to you at work?”

“Precisely.”

“But I can fuck you at home.”

“It’s not the same.”

Just then the doorbell rang.  Robert was at the door.

“Can we continue this conversation later, Daddy?” she asked.

“Where would you like me to go while you and your date have dinner?” I asked, defeated.

“Why don’t you get yourself a nice meal at your favorite restaurant and I’ll call you when we’re done?”

“Not longer than an hour?”

“Definitely not longer than two, promise.”

I let Robert in and, after a brief hello, I said I was just on my way out.  “Enjoy your meal,” I said very sarcastically.

Two and a half hours, one meal, two beers, and an old fashioned later, my phone finally signaled a text from Lo: “Cum to me.”

I walked in and found her naked sitting at the dining room table.  No Robert.

She was looking at her computer and showed me some photos.

One guy typed, “Got any more naughty pics?”

“If that’s not enough for you, then just google ‘mysexlifewithlola.’  You’ll get more pics than you can shake a stick at.”

“That’s funny,” she said to me.

“Shake a stick at?”

“Yeah.”

“Very droll, dear,” I said as I stood next to her.  “How was your dinner date?”

She didn’t answer my question.  She just undid the button of my pants and slithered me out of them.

She sat me down in the chair and positioned her body over me.  She clearly wanted me to fuck her.  But I wanted her to ask.  She said, “You have to learn to intuit.  Intuit!  Intuit!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get into it!” I said as she spread her legs over my lap and pressed her tits into my face.  Cum, Robert’s cum, slowly slid out of her spread pussy lips and dripped onto my hard cock.

She lowered herself down on me and I entered her slowly, like the filter of a French Press plunging intently into the warm, wet cannister.

A breathy moan.

She kissed me and after, she lifted herself up, turned around, and slid down, her back toward me.

She began typing on her computer as she rhythmically rode my pole.

“Lo, are you ever going to get off that machine?”
“I told you, Daddy, it’s my work from home day.”

“Well, I think you need to take a break.”

“I’ll get off of it, just as soon as I get off from it.”

“Can’t I get you off, vaginally, not virtually, you know, like in the old days?”

“It enhances the experience.”

I looked over her shoulder and saw that she sent to a guy a photo of herself with a little space for a caption to be written about her.

She typed, “Why don’t you fill in the blank.”

“I thought that was my job,” I said, meaning both filling up her cunt and my job as a writer.

She noticed my presence again when I said that and she let me look over her shoulder as she clicked on a picture of a guy holding up his phone with Lo’s photo on it while he fucked his wife.  “I love that he’s is thinking of me while he is fucking her.”

“Such a sincere sentiment.  It should go in a Hallmark card.”

“That’s brilliant!” she shouted, turning around to look at me.

“What is?”

“A line of Lola greeting cards.”

“Perhaps you could create them.  I think you could use another hobby to focus all your creative juices.”

And at that, she lifted up just enough to release her climactic juices on me.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!”

“It’s quite alright.  Maybe one of these days we’ll get around to my orgasm.  Or should I just go on-line and pose as one of your admirers?”

“I’m sorry!” she said again.

“It’s ok.  I guess women can also have premature ejaculation.”

“It was hardly premature,” she said.

She began stroking my cock, now extremely lubricated by her and Robert’s emollient, as she told me that Robert went at her like never before.  Her theory was that he liked being waited on hand-and-foot.

“And how was your dinner, Daddy,” she asked, as she continued to jack me off.

I couldn’t answer.  I was too busy imagining her with Robert.

“Did you get a good meal?  Did it fill you up?  I was so full up,” she said.

I was speechless.

“Were you thinking of me, Daddy?  Did you think about how he got his rocks off to me?  Did you think about how we fucked in the dining room, right here, where you are now?”

“Did you show him your internet admirers too?”

“No, Daddy.  We just fucked.  He bent me over the table and fucked me.  Then he turned me over and spread my legs and fucked me as I sat on the edge of the table.  The windows were open and he fucked me hard as I screamed at the top of my lungs.  I’m sure the neighbors saw, or at least heard it all.  Then he grabbed my ankles and lifted them up high and pulled out of my pussy and slid into my ass.  Back and forth, back and forth he went, filling one hole and then another.  He asked where I wanted him to cum and I didn’t care.  I told him I didn’t want him to cum yet.  Fuck me!  Fuck my holes!  I said, but he came and came deep in me.  He collapsed on the chair where you’re sitting now and I slid off the table and got on my knees, like I am now, and covered his cock with my mouth to lick him clean until he couldn’t handle it anymore.  Then he put his clothes on and left, leaving me naked at the table.”

She saw that I was finally ready to explode and she dropped her dirty mouth down on to my dick, just like she described with Robert, and coaxed me to cum.  And cum I did, forcefully and voluminously.  So much that it came out of her nose.  She was a hot mess, literally, when I was done.

“There you go,” I said, “the hallmark of a happy hotwife.”  I chuckled to myself when I reflected that the original meaning of “hallmark” was “a sign of purity.”

Lola’s Christmas Card