Lola Left to Her Own Devices

Posted on March 13, 2018 by Lola Down

We were separated for a week. She went out of town. When we are reunited, I slip into bed next to her naked body. She wakes enough to ask, “Did you masturbate while I was gone?”

“No?”

“Did you hook up with anyone?”

I chuckle a little bit.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because, darling, I didn’t even leave the house.”

“Did any one come to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean, someone could have cum to me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. There are whole hosts of people who could have cum to me.”

“What does that mean?”

“I simply mean that I, er, rather, you and I, get emails quite frequently from people who tell me, I mean, er, us, that they have cum to me. That is, to my stories about you. Any number of people could have cum to me anywhere around the world while you were gone. And many times at that!”

“Oh,” she says. “Well, that’s not what I mean. You just forget about all of them, because you have got the real thing, naked, right here in bed with you right now.”

“Well, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you masturbate while you were gone?”

“Frequently.”

“Did you hook up with anyone?”

“Fuck me and you’ll find out.”

“I haven’t seen you for a week. Can’t we get reacquainted first?”
“Sure. That sounds like fun.”

I lean in to kiss her. Our lips meet. Her tongue finds mine. She begins to maneuver so that I slide to her neck and her breasts.

“So much for our reacquaintance,” I say.

“I want to get to know you, like really know you, in the biblical sense.”

“I see.”

“My legs are spread, now get in there.”

“Ah,” I say as I slide down her torso, “sweeter words have never been spoken.”

I give soft, gentle kisses to her labia. She moans. Within moments she is pressing my head hard down onto her clit. She climaxes without warning.

“Now fuck me, Daddy,” she whispers.

“But I just ate you out. Don’t you want. . .”

Before I could finish, she says, “Pussy isn’t like cake.”

“What?”

“You can’t have your cake and eat it too. But you can eat me and have me too. Now, have me.”

I slide in, penetrating her dripping pussy. She moans. She cums.

“I thought you were going to tell me about your time away,” I say, eager to hear her voice and the stories she has to tell.

“Just stay in me and I’ll tell you everything you want to hear.”

I hold her body tightly in my arms and she begins to tell me about how at the hotel bar a guy approached her. She describes his attractive features and stylish suit. She adds, “But I knew he wasn’t actually interested in sleeping with me.”

“Why’s that?”

“As we were talking, he told me what I already suspected. He was gay. I said to him, ‘What’s a nice gay boy like you doing following a slut like me?’ and he said, he just wanted someone to talk to and I looked approachable. We talked for a while and then we politely said goodnight. I went to the elevator to go to my hotel room, horny, but glad to have met someone new. Just as I got to the elevator at the hotel lobby, a whole team of college hockey players had just arrived on their bus from who-knows-where. I got to talking to them and a bunch of us went up to my room. Basically, there were a lot of guys packed into a tight space.”

“Wait,” I said, as I fucked her with more intensity, eager to hear where her story was leading, “are you talking about your hotel room?”

“I was talking about my pussy.”

Before she could go on, I pull out. (It had been a long time. The idea of Lo knowing that she looked like a slut in the hotel bar, being approached by a guy, and acknowledging her sluttiness was almost too much for me. But then, to hear those words from her lips – well, that was beyond my mortal powers.) I cum and I cum quickly and a lot. I project a “shooting star” up and over her head, landing on the pillow.

Lola complains that she was just warming up.

“Let me remind you that you came twice to my nill.”

“As it should be,” she says, precociously, adding, “But aren’t you good for at least one more? I mean, it’s been a fucking week! A week of no fucking. You gotta be hard-up enough for one more shag. All I want to do is bone, but you won’t give me your bone to do it with.”

“I can’t. I don’t have a bone. It’s the missing link.”

She takes out her Hitachi to do herself in bed as I go take a shower. When I’m done, I open the bathroom door to look at her. “You may go. I’m busy here,” she says dismissively.

“You may cum,” I reply. “You certainly seem to love yourself,” I say.

Looking up from her horizontal position on the bed, she says to me, “I feel most confident when making myself climax. Or maybe I climax just when I feel most confident. Either way, I’m good at it.”

“Well, all your admirers enjoy it,” I reply, snapping a photo of her.

She looks down between her legs and sees me with my camera out. She pulls away the Hitachi, spreading her legs wide. “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille,” she says as I get her puss in focus.

“Say cheese!”

Instead, she lets out a long moan while ejaculating. I just barely avoid a disaster with my non-waterproof camera.

“I hope you got the money shot,” she says, catching her breath.

“You know, as much as I love you and love to fuck you, it’s difficult to compete with how much you love and fuck yourself.”

“It’s not about quantity, it’s about how deep the love is.”

“How deep is your love?”

She giggles, humming the melody to the song, “How Deep is Your Love,” before telling me, “Masturbation is what self-love looks like in public.”

I turn to leave the room and leave Lo to her own devices, but just as I step into the hall, I hear her screaming at the top of her lungs. I open the door and see her spouting from between her legs as if a pipe had burst. She tries to close her legs to shut off the waterworks, but it’s futile. Might as well let it all out. When she’s done she turns to me and says, “I came, I saw, I came,” victoriously.

“What did you see?” I ask.

“I think I saw God.”

My Love is a Red Red Rosebud

Posted on February 14, 2018 by Lola Down

“I’m so fat!” she decried as she stood in her bikini looking in the mirror at her reflection.

“You say that like fat is a bad thing,” I said with a smile.

“Shut up.”

“What? All I’m saying is I like some meat on your bones. You always tell me how much you like my meat and to bone.”

She threw a pillow at me. “You’re tapping into my greatest insecurity.”

“Your weakness is your strength,” I replied.

“Your weakness is me.”

“I know. I know. Lola, you’re my Kryptonite. I’m the Man of Steel. But after being around you I go soft as a Slinky. But seriously,” I said, “come here.”

She walked to me like a child who had just been caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She stood in front of me. I grabbed and kissed the small bulge above her bikini line.

“Stop it! You know I hate that!”

“But I love it. It’s so sexy.”

“I have to work on my beach body.”

“I’m working on my beach-ball body.”

“We both should exercise.”

“Exercise?! Are you kidding me? I just heard about a forty-year-old man who dropped dead – DEAD! – while on the treadmill. Oh no. Not for me, thank you.”

“What are you talking about? He probably had a preexisting condition. He probably had heart problems or was overweight.”

“That’s proof! Proof that exercise is bad for you. Positively lethal!”

“That’s not proof.”

“All I’m saying is that you never hear of a perfectly healthy forty-year-old man dying on his couch while reading a book.”

“Give me a break!” she said, throwing her arms in the air.

Lo and I went down to the pool of the hotel.

It was Valentine’s Day, we were on vacation in a warm-weather city, and Lo was looking like one sweet-tart.

Lo thought that, as usual, I had failed to make any plans for V-Day. There she was wrong.

After some hours by the pool where she only got jealous of the other bikini babes walking past me, lounging in the reclining chairs, or dangling their feet in the water, we both were hungry and, after changing, I surprised her for the first time that day by actually having a lunch destination suggestion.

“Chinese?!” she questioned, both skeptical and disappointed.

We drove through the grid of the city to the special Chinese restaurant I had scoped out. This wasn’t just your average Chinese joint; it was a newly opened, chic, “Asian-fusion” place simply called Red that was all the rage.

Luckily, Lo was impressed.

After our meal, Lo’s Fortune Cookie read: “Emotion is energy in motion” and I added “in bed.”

When we got back to the car, a compact, two-seater, Lo laughed as she got in.

“What?” I asked, curious as to what she found so amusing.

“Nothing,” she replied, enigmatically.

“I want to know.”

“I’ll tell you later, when you’re older.”

“Lo, I’m older now. I’ll always be older. So, out with it.”

“Where are we going now, Daddio?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Where would you like to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. . . some dive bar.”

“That should be easy enough,” I said as I got the car started and, put the top down, and pulled out into the busy road by the beach.

No sooner had we gotten stuck in the see-and-be-seen crowd of the resort road, than Lo leaned back with one high-heel shod foot dangling seductively over the edge of the door and the other up on the dash as she flashed me, venting up her skirt in the warm, humid, sea-salty air.

“Lo, you’re doing it again?”

“Doing what, Daddio?”

“Flashing in public.”

“Am I? But we’re in the privacy of our own vehicle.”

“Lo,” I said, as I gave her a side-long glance, trying to focus on traffic.

“You like, Daddio?” she asked.

That night I surprised even myself by having dinner reservations, chocolate, cupcakes, roses, and a card all lined up. Good job, HH. I congratulate you. When we got to the red rented convertible, I popped the top down and looked in the back seat, saying to Lo, “Oh, look there, someone must have left something in the car before we rented it.”

She looked over the bucket seat and saw, sitting on the leather behind her, the scarlet box of chocolates, the bouquet of roses, a box of pink-frosted cupcakes, and a cardinal colored envelope.

Hopping in, she tore into the card. It was an e. e. cummings poem and a little note from me.

She read the e.e. cummings poem and looked at me seductively and said, “Soon I’ll be-e cumming too.”

She then opened the cupcakes and slowly sank her mouth over the pink-frosted top, taking a slow, seductive bite.

“Lo! We’re on our way to dinner,” I jokingly rebuked her. “You can’t eat dessert before dinner.”

“But Daddy,” she said, looking at me with frosting on her lips. “you know that I can’t pass up a good cream filling.”

“How did you know it was a cream filling? You’ve only just had the frosting.”

“I wasn’t talking about the cupcake,” she said as she bit into it again. She then leaned over the seat and gave me a big, wet, frosted kiss. “But I know that you know that cream filling is my favorite and so I figured you got me what I wanted.”

Secretly, I delighted in seeing her eat the cupcake. A certain kink, that is, if she was into it too, which she most definitely was not.

We got to the restaurant and Lo was wearing a cute, short red dress and matching pumps. She looked adorable. I could tell that all eyes were on her, just as she likes it.

“Lo,” I said as we sat at our romantic, candle-lit table, “you look better than ever!”

“Oh, go on,” she said, vainly. I love her vanity.

“Really, they say that men get better looking with age and that may be true. But you, my dear, look better to me every day we’re together.”

She slipped her right foot out of her sexy shoe under the table and lifted it to rub my leg up and down, showing her appreciation of my sincere, but flattering words.

“Don’t do that,” I said.

“Why not, Daddy?”

“Because I may have to ravish you right here and now, rather than wait until we get back to the hotel and in bed.”

“Sex is not just something that happens in bed. Sex is a lifestyle.”

“You should write adult fortune cookies.”

She continued to rub my leg up and down, stretching now to touch my crotch. Her antics were hidden by the long tablecloth draped over the cozy round table, but I have no doubt an onlooker would be able to tell what she was up to.

After our meal, the waiter asked if we’d like dessert. I looked at Lo. “I really shouldn’t, I had the cupcake in the car,” she said.

I looked at the waiter and ordered an espresso and the red velvet cake for the lady.

After the waiter left, Lo said to me, “Daddio, I shouldn’t.”

“But you want to, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then do it. Why not? It’s Valentine’s Day, after all.”

The cake and espresso came and I almost did too as I watched Lo eat the decadently delicious confection.

“Let’s go to the hotel and order a whole cake for you to eat while I eat you out,” I suggested, eager to have my luscious little Lo.

“Not yet, Daddio,” she said. “It’s early. Let’s go out for a few drinks first.”

“But I want you so much right now,” I said as I watched her tongue lick her red lips of the crimson cake crumbs.

“I’ll give you an appetizer in the car.”

We got in the convertible and Lo turned toward me in the red leather bucket seat. She spread her legs and rubbed her pussy over her cherry colored panties.

“I like how your entire outfit matches.”

“I’m good like that.”

I drove down the main drag of the city and Lo let the seat go back, lifted her feet onto the dashboard, and removed her panties. “I won’t be needing these where we’re going,” she said as she tossed them high in the air. I saw them fly upwards and then down onto the road behind us.

“Lo!” I scolded.

“She laughed.”

“I knew we shouldn’t have ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of us.”

“Oh, Daddio,” she said, rubbing my arm, “don’t be so rigid about the rules. Are you rigid?” she asked, moving her hand down to my cock.

“Like a ruler,” I said.

“If only you were twelve inches!” she exclaimed.

I parked the car and we went into a cute little bar called “Rosebud & Thistle.”

“Remember Citizen Kane?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said as we walked to the joint.

“Rosebud.”

“What about it?”

“That was the last word he said.”

“And the name of his sled.”

“Did you know that it was also what William Randolph Hearst called his wife’s clit?”

“Now you’re just making that up,” she said skeptically.

“I appreciate your esteem of my creativity, but that’s a fact.”

“Well, why don’t you have a pet name for my clit?” she asked peevishly.

“Because, to me, you’re so much more than your clit.”

“Good save,” she said as we walked in the bar.

Inside was drenched in dim, romantic, rubicund light with lots of tufted leather love seats and a long bar with classic, 1950s style shiny red leather and chrome stools.

“Bar or booth?” I asked Lo.

She scanned the space and settled on the bar, leading me to the far corner. We found two vacant stools kitty-corner to each other. She made for one that was next to a lone gentleman who stared into his dwindling drink. She interrupted his ponderings to ask if the stool was taken and he politely invited her to sit. She slid up on the stool which, given her diminutive size, meant that her feet didn’t touch the ground. She smiled at him and I could see her eyes penetrate his dark soul.

Immediately she initiated small talk with him, telling him that we are from out of town and never had been to this place before. “Is there something pretty and sweet that catches your eye?” she asked before adding, “on the menu.”

He began to make a recommendation, but before he could even get it out, she interrupted him and said, “You know,” grabbing his elbow, “I’m in the mood for something stiff.” He looked at her, his eyes growing a little wider. “What are you drinking?” she asked.

He simply said, “Whiskey.”

“Straight?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Well, I’m not straight,” she said, “I want something complicated.”

She looked at the drink menu and put her finger to her lips, contemplating the choices in her mind.

I cleared my throat since throughout this award-worthy performance, I had remained silent.

“OH!” said Lo, introducing me, “This is my man, HH. HH, this is. . .”

Obviously she didn’t know his name.

“Ron,” he said.

“Hi, Ron,” I said.

“HH, will you order me a pomegranate martini? I’m going to freshen up,” she said as she attempted to scooch off of her stool. But the sliding down lifted up her red dress and nearly exposed her rosebud.

“Whoops!” she exclaimed, waiting just long enough for Ron to see before pulling down the front of her dress.

Lo gave me a peck on the cheek and disappeared.

I sat at the bar making conversation with Ron for a few moments before Lo returned.

“So, Ron,” she said almost immediately, “why are you here all alone on Valentine’s Day?”

I felt that that was none of Lo’s concern, but there was no putting the question back in between her just glossed lips now.

Ron went into a long story about breaking up with his girlfriend of four years only a few days ago. Turns out she was cheating on him.

“What can I do to cheer you up?” asked Lo, sliding her dress up.

“You’re already cheering me up,” he said with great appreciation in his voice.

Lo’s drink came.

“How’s your drink?” I asked as she took a sip.

“It’s wet.”

“Your drink?”

“That too.”

Soon she ordered a slice of strawberry shortcake.

I took great delight in seeing her eat her third dessert and flirting with Ron as I sipped my Manhattan.

“Mmmmm, this is so fucking good!” she said as she took another bite.

“‘Fucking’ is unnecessary and vulgar,” I replied.

“I don’t agree at all. For me fucking is completely necessary and appropriate.”

“Only if you’re doing it,” I said.

“That’s what I meant,” she responded immediately. “Why, what were you talking about?”

“I was talking about your vocabulary. You have a dirty mouth.”

“Not nearly as dirty as my mind.”

Then Lo turned and offered a taste of the cake to her new friend and he took it. “Isn’t that just heaven?” she asked as her right hand rested his left arm on her bare leg. He nodded yes and I could see him rubbing her thigh. When the cake and drinks were consumed, Lo paid the bill, pulling some dollars out of her ruby purse.

“I would have got that,” I said as the bartender took Lo’s cash.

“That’s ok, Daddio,” she said, “this has been my treat.”

Lo kissed Ron on the cheek, slid awkwardly off the stool again, and wished him a happy Valentine’s Day, adding, “Next time, let her cheat – it’s more fun that way.”

Lo put her arm around mine and we went out to the car.

“Lo, you were very bad in there,” I said.

“Was I?” she asked, feigning innocence. “I thought I was very good.”

When we got in the car, she kicked off her heels and put her feet up on my lap. “Rub them, Daddy,” she said.

I caressed her toes and instep with my left hand and she moaned.

“Did you like Rosebud, Daddy?” she asked.

“You mean the bar or your clit?” I asked back, looking at her rub her pussy as I pulled out of the parking spot.

“Yes,” she said enigmatically.

“I liked watching you eat three desserts,” I said. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll get donuts for breakfast.”

“I’m like the perfect donut – delicious, hot, fresh, with a lovely hole.”

“You sure have a way with words,” I said.

“My tongue is wicked, that’s why it’s red, but my soul is pure as the driven snow.”

“Well, that wicked tongue of yours was really charming the pants off of good ole Ron.”

“Can it charm the pants off of you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I looked at her, driving distracted.

“Take your cock out.”

“Lo, I’m driving. In a convertible. On the main street of this city.”

“Exactly,” she said, wiggling her toes over my lap.

At a red light, I unzipped and pulled out my hard shaft.

We drove on and as we did her feet and toes caressed me. The surprise of it all brought me to an unexpected climax as well, covering Lo’s toes with my warm jizz.

This presented a problem. My trousers were soaked. The seat had a puddle. Everything was wet and sticky. How were we to get into the hotel to clean off?

“Well, isn’t this a fine mess you got us into?” I asked, mimicking Oliver Hardy’s constant refrain to Stan Laurel. But the allusion was lost on Lo. Different generation.

“What do you mean I got us into?!”

“Just kidding, dear. But what are we going to do?”

“Not a problem.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just drive up to the side entrance of the hotel.”

“What are you going to do, put on your invisicloak?”

“Sort of.”

I drove up and Lo said to me, “Leave your phone and wallet in the car and follow me.”

I followed her and she used her hotel key to let us in the pool entrance. She walked as if she was tipsy and, as if she were walking a balance beam, she tiptoed along the edge of the pool before “accidentally” falling in.

After a split second of shock, I kicked off my shoes and dove in after her, fully clothed.

A few of the guests and the staff ran over to the pool. I held Lo in my arms, her red dress clinging to her breasts, her little bare feet kicking and splashing. She faked coughing.

“It’s all right,” I called out. “I got her! But could someone get us a couple of towels?”

Men rushed to help and we both got out of the pool even more soaking than we had been a few moments ago. We wrapped ourselves in the plush white terrycloth towels and I turned to Lo and said, “Pure as the driven snow.”

She looked at me, her mascara dripping down her face, her hair matted down, and she smiled saying, “You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome?! I saved you!”

“By letting you save me, I saved you. Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy.”

Back in the hotel room, after a long hot shower, as I lay naked on the bed watching Lo brushing out her hair, I put on a song that summed up Lola’s V-Day shenanigans. It’s called, “What Ever Lola Wants,” sung by Sarah Vaughan

Whatever Lola wants
Lola gets
And little man little Lola wants you

Make up your mind to have (your mind to have)
No regrets (no regrets)
Recline yourself resign yourself you’re through

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

Whatever Lola wants (Lola wants)
Lola gets (Lola gets)
Take off your coat
Don’t you know you can’t win (can’t win you’ll never never win)

You’re no exception to the rule
I’m irresistible you fool
Give in (give in you’ll never win)

I always get what I aim for
And your heart and soul is what I came for

When she came out of the bathroom, she said, “Damn straight! And now I’m coming for your cock.”

She crawled on the bed and, just to tease her, I said, “I thought I’d read a little.”

She spread her legs and replied, “Read between the lines,” as she placed her middle finger between her lush red labia.

“Looks like it says, ‘Rosebud,’” I said as I indulged in my dessert.

We’re Good

Posted on January 5, 2018 by Lola Down

Once, while doing a little internet search to find out if any other guy is in a similar situation as I, I came across the following plea for help to some advice columnist:

I recently found out that my girlfriend waits for me to go upstairs and take a shower, or goes upstairs to the shower herself so that she can masturbate. I have never, ever rejected her for sex. I have even told her many times that she could have me whenever and wherever. We have been together for almost five years. When I caught her – long story – she claimed that this has only been going on for a few months before I found out. I was really upset about it. When I confronted her about it, she said that it only happens ‘six out of every ten times’ that I’m not home. So, more than half of the time that I’m not there, she would rather fuck herself than me. She acts happy and she tells me she loves me multiple times a day. She says that everything in our relationship is good. However, over the past six or seven months, she only had sex with me maybe once or twice a month. (When we started dating we were having sex at least once or twice a day!) She claims that she wants sex, but she just would rather masturbate than have sex with me – even when I’m at home. I just don’t understand why. And now I feel like I just don’t know who she really is or that our relationship is as truthful as I thought it was.

I felt really bad for the poor dejected boyfriend, especially because it could easily have been written by Lo’s ex-boyfriend – the guy she was with just prior to me.

You see, she was with this boy, Steve, for close to three years. The first year was wonderful – so she tells me – but the last two, not so much. At some point she fell out of love with him. It happens. Now, Lo being Lo, though the love was lost, she couldn’t just turn off her libido. And, if she were very honest, she would tell you that she stayed with this fella because he did have quite an amazing cock – over 9” in length and thicker than her forearm in girth. As a result, she resorted to the methods of the hapless fella’s girlfriend as quoted above. She would masturbate in bed after he fell asleep. She’d masturbate in the shower when he was home with her (at his parent’s house). She would masturbate when he wasn’t around.

What’s more, when Lo began to deny this strapping youth the pleasures of worshiping at her alter, he, being virile himself, would often jack it in the bed next to her. She could feel the bed moving, his breathing growing heavy in short quick breaths, and sometimes even the warm ejaculate upon her back. Through it all she remained stoic and still, feigning sleep until it was her turn. She knew that only a few moments after he came she would have her chance.

Yet, every once in a while she still craved that cock of his and she would get her fill. On occasion she would open her mouth to receive all nine inches of that rod; she’d bend over to take it in her puss or her ass; she’d get on her knees to have him cum on her face. And this was enough to give Steve hope and keep him returning to the well for more.

Much of this relationship was while Lo was in college and Steve, who didn’t go to college and lived at home with his parents, was none-the-wiser of Lo’s various “boyfriends” she kept at school. There was Gerald and his diminutive endowment enhanced (or, rather, the opposite of enhanced) by the use of steroids. There was Teddy and the massive member he carried around with him like a Smith & Wesson 500 Magnum. And there was the elusive Ryan. These play-things were good for some thrills, but Lo was unable to extricate herself from the place she carved out in Steve’s nuclear and extended family.

She went through all the motions of Thanksgiving and Christmas, birthdays, and family vacations with them. Yes, the first year she entirely enjoyed him and his family. In truth, they were a very good group of people – so good that when she felt herself falling out of love with him, she lamented leaving them more than leaving him.

She remained in this limbo, as I said, for about two strained years. I knew her during this time and, on occasion, we would see each other. It would only be years later, after she and I became a couple, that she revealed to me that she had a thing for me all that time and that frequently, after we would get together for a coffee to catch up, or an innocent meeting at a concert or bookstore, she would jill it to thoughts of me. (Flattering. Very flattering.)

But then, in some magical way, sparks of romance began to shoot back and forth in our Platonic relationship. Soon enough she was slipping away from Steve in order to meet with me for the illicit dark alley kiss; the so very risky blow-job in my office, or the unrestrained fuck in the front seat of my steamed-up car.

Then came that fateful day that she and I were at a remote bar, staring into each other’s eyes, talking, after having two or three drinks, when she revealed to me something that cut me to the quick. “So, last night, after we met and you got me all riled up,” she began, making reference to our long, lustful make-out session that resulted in her cumming a number of times without any actual penetration, “I needed it. I had to have it. I went home and I woke Steve up from bed and I sucked his cock till he was good and hard. I spread my legs and, as he was going at me with that massive cock of his and I was just on the verge of cumming and cumming in a BIG way, I found myself unconsciously saying. . .”

“Saying what?” I asked, on the edge of my seat when her words trailed off.

“Saying your name.”

“Out loud?!”

“Well, loud enough that I heard it. I don’t think Steve heard me. He was going at me furiously. When I finally came, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming your name cause, you see, I was imagining that it was you fucking me and not him.”

These words of hers poured into my ears like a mixture of poison and elixir. They swirled in my chest and elicited the most confused concoction of emotions I had ever known. At one and the same time I was delighted to hear this story; excited to imagine it vividly in my mind; repulsed by the image; disturbed by the thought of her going home to him for sex, even if she was thinking about me. I had no words for any of this. Waves of heat descended over my body from head to toe. All I could do was look into her lovely eyes and gaze at her beautiful and oh-so-dirty mouth. And, without knowing what it was that I was doing or saying, I grabbed her hands and my mouth pronounced the words, “Lo, I need to tell you, I love you. I love you desperately and deeply. I love you in a way that I have never, ever known. I love you and I have loved you and every day I fall deeper in love with you.”

She looked at me with confusion and joy on her face. We were in the middle of some dive joint in the sticks, country music playing on an old jukebox, the bar filled with sad, drunk people. This was hardly the place that I would have picked to profess my love for her and I think that the confession came as quite a surprise to her as well. But her response to my unreasoned and untoward words surprised me equally. She said simply, “I love you too.” It wasn’t the sort of pat, formulaic response that is said out of politeness. It was heartfelt. They were four simple, monosyllabic, yet very weighty words pronounced with measure and sincerity. Perhaps more than the words, the look in her eyes as she said them lent them the reassurance of truth that reading them on the page fails to do.

Her hands clutched mine and I knew that we had something, something real and something special – something that we had to do something with and about in order to become the people we were.

Sometime after this mutual exchange of love, I said to her, “Lo, but there is one thing I need you to promise me – to promise me very solemnly.”

“What?”

“I need you to swear that if ever you fall out of love with me like you have fallen out of love with Steve, you will tell me. You will have the kindness and courage to say it to my face immediately. You will never string me along. You will never stay with me out of convenience. You will never fuck me and whisper to yourself the name of some other man.”

Little did I know back then what I know now – that I would give my blessing to Lo’s fucking as many men and women as she pleases. Yet one thing still holds true – I demand her love. I know that when she fucks someone else, it is I whom she loves. I know that when she masturbates to wild fantasies, it is I whom she loves. I know that when she lusts for men and women whom we pass in the street, it is I whom she loves. As long as I know that, we’re good. We’re very, very good.

[Image, of Lola Masturbating by JoKoss.]

Cake & Bar – Interview with a Kinky Amateur Porn Couple

Posted on November 25, 2017 by Lola Down

In the past we have periodically featured some letters and guest posts from some of our readers. Because we’ve received so much mail in the past year, we are now including a regular feature of kinky letters and write-in questions. To start us off, we begin with a lovely couple that go by the names of Cake & Bar (you’ll find out why below.) They have a Tumblr and they post short films of their sexy passion for each other:

Q: Let’s begin with the name. What’s Cake and Bar all about?

A: Well, Bar loves cheesecake (the actual food) and also loves Cake’s ass, so her name came easy. Bar has a very veiny dick and looks like a big Snickers when it’s fully erect, so that was the inspiration. The name is are also a play on us being an interracial couple.

Q: It looks like you started your Tumblr in July 2017. Is this exhibitionism something new for you two? How’d you get into it?

A: We started our Tumblr after being suspended from Twitter permanently for some odd reason. Tumblr was another way for us to share our sexuality and advertise for our porn movies on Manyvids. We’ve been on Manyvids for a year now, so yes we guess you could say we’re new to exhibitionism and porn making in general. Bar has always loved taking pictures of Cake, so one day he asked if we could start posting pictures anonymously to see the feedback we would get it from other people and the rest is history. For the most part it has been nothing but positive experiences.

Q: How long have you been a couple?

A: We’ve been together 15 years and been married 5 years and we have 2 children.

Q: Are you currently monogamous? If not, what’s the relationship like?

A: Yes, we’re monogamous.

Q: How has been the response to your posting pics and films of yourselves? A lot of Tumblr folks complain of people being rude or having derogatory things to say. That hasn’t been our experience. What about you?

A: For the most part we’ve had positive responses to the things we’ve shared. There’s always going to be some negative, but we take it in stride because it’s expected with the internet.

Q: You don’t show your faces in the pics/vids. Do you worry that you’ll be found out?

A: We don’t worry per se about being found out, but we like anonymity and the masks give us something else to set the scene with.

Q: Do any of your friends/family know about your kinky side?

A: Only 2 of our friends know we make porn and they’re totally supportive of us.

Q: What do you each like (in terms of sex/porn)?

A, Bar: Straight amatuer porn, mostly Interracial and Black. Some professional porn like the Greg Lanskys stuff.

A, Cake: Doesn’t enjoy watching porn as much as she likes shooting it.

HH & Lo: Thanks so much!!!!

Cake & Bar: You’re welcome and thanks for your patience with our response.

Some photos from Cake & Bar getting off to Lola (more can be found at their Tumblr and at loladown.tumblr.com):

Truth Stick

Posted on October 24, 2017 by Lola Down

It was Friday night and Lo and I were at a fundraising event at our city’s art museum. It was a lovely affair and the only thing that gets Lo and me more riled up than art museums is art museums at night, with alcohol and lots of good looking people dressed to impress.

In my humble opinion, Lo was the most impressively dressed. She was all dolled up in her heels, slinky skin-tight blue dress showing a lot of leg and cleavage, and her long hair framing her alluring face. We were in the courtyard of the museum and a classical string quartet was playing. I looked up at the sky and said to Lo, “I’m worried about the weather.”

“What about it?”

“I’m afraid it’s going to rain. I don’t want you to get wet.”

“Too late for that. I know what I’m going to do when we get home.”

“Oh boy.”

“Hopefully many boys!”

“Oh, I thought you were talking about me.”

“You and some other eye-candy I see tonight.”

“Like a little girl in a candy-shop, are you?”

She bit her lip and said, “Do you have anything for me to suck on, Daddy?”

“Lo, wait till we get home, ok?”

We were drinking champagne and then I noticed the perfect complement for it. “Look, Lo, a cupcake bar! Let’s get some.”

“You’re really undoing all of my effort.”

“Undoing what effort?”

“My diet. Losing weight.”

“You have to feed your soul. Soul, being immaterial, never gains weight, but it can starve.”

“My soul is starving – starving for your attention. Let’s forego the cupcakes and find a coat closet and get right to the main course.”

We mingled and drank a bit more, but the weather was ominous. Finally I convinced Lo that we should get going.

We picked up the car from the valet, but once we were in, Lo suggested going to a club.

“Lo, it’s already ten o’clock.”

“Already?! Are you kidding me? As if that’s late. The night is young and so am I.”

“Well, young’un, I’m not and I’m tired. You can drop me off at home and have your night on the town.”

“Well,” she said, “at least tell me I’m going to get laid tonight.”

Silence.

“Oh no, I’m getting fucked tonight, preferably by you.”

Silence.

“If you don’t plan on doing me tonight, then I’m making calls and I’ll find someone who will.”

“Is that the origin of the term ‘call girl’? I’ve had it backwards all these years!”

“Shut up and feel my puss! Feel how wet it is?” she asked as she pulled my hand up her dress to her crotch where I discovered the reason for why her dress looked as smooth as skin on her – no panties!

“That’s it, Daddio.”

I began to caress her and she put the seat back to allow me easier access. Suddenly a car jumped out in front of us from a side road. I swerved. She sat up.

“Watch it!” she yelled at me.

“Do you want me to drive carefully or to finger you?”

“Oh yeah. . . Well, I guess I don’t really need you,” she said as she began fingering herself.

This was almost as distracting for me as my doing it for her. She came. She came again. We pulled in the driveway. I went to open the door.

“Not so fast, Daddio.”

“We’re home.”

“But we don’t have to go in right away. How about you kiss me? You know, I’ve gotten more tongue from a dog than I have from you in the past month.”

“Didn’t I get on my knees and lick your pussy all morning after your shower before we went out tonight?”

“That’s my cunt. I’m talking about tongue-to-tongue.”

“With a dirty mouth like that, is it any surprise?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

I kissed her. She pulled my hand down to her dripping pussy.

“It’s never just romance with you?” I ask.

“It’s all romance with me. My definition of romance is very wide, very deep, and fits a lot into it.”

“Are we discussing romance or. . .”

“Just shut up and keep kissing me.”

I followed orders. She again pressed my fingers down on her clit. She rubbed them around the way she wanted to be stroked. “I said, keep kissing me. That didn’t mean to stop fingering me.”

“How about we take this inside?”

“OK, pull down your pants.”

“Not inside you! I meant let’s go in the house.”

“Oh, right.”

As we were walking into our building, there was a flash of lighting and a crackle of thunder – loud and very soon after the lightning. Big, heavy rain drops began to fall, one-by-one at first. Within moments of getting inside, it was a heavy and steady downpour. “Let’s start this storm off right,” said Lo as she grabbed me, pushed me up against the wall, took my hands and placed them on her breasts. I kissed her on her open mouth. It was hot.

We walked to the bedroom. I got naked and into bed. Lo went into the bathroom saying, “I just have to take off my makeup.”

I guess I was more tired than I thought. Within seconds I fell into a deep and heavy sleep. I awoke to a naked Lo between my legs with my cock filling her mouth.

“Lo, I think I’m too tired,” I said, fearing her wrath.

She pulled her face up enough to say, “That’s a lie.”

“No it’s not.”

“Let’s see what the Truth Stick says.” She grabbed my hard cock. “The Truth Stick says otherwise.”

“I should beat you with my Truth Stick!”

“Yes! That’s all I want!”

She climbed on my erection and slid her warm puss down it, straddling me.

But, no matter what the Truth Stick said, I kept on nodding off to sleep. I don’t know if she came or if she merely got turned off by the lack of attention, but at some point she climbed down from her pole and sat next to me in bed. She pulled out her Hitachi and placed it between her legs. Looking over at me next to her with disdain, as she massaged herself, she said, “Brian, my special friend at work, said he’s really eager to work with me. He told me today that whenever and wherever I need him, I should just say the word and he’ll be there. I’m thinking about him right now. I’m thinking about his big, strong arms. I’m thinking about his broad shoulders. His huge bulge in his pants. I’m thinking about what sorts of things I might ask him to do for me.”

I know she was just trying to make me jealous and simultaneously rile me up to giving her a good hard pounding – plumbing her depths with my Truth Stick – and I was flattered, but unable to give her what she wanted. As I heard her climax alone next to me the lyrics of a song wafted through my mind as I gently withdrew to dreamland:

She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she cums just like a little whore.

Bigger, Harder, Longer

Posted on October 9, 2017 by Lola Down

Carrying a mug of coffee, I walk in on her just as she is squirting, pulling the Hitachi away from her clit. Her hands scrunch up the sheets under her and her legs are spread. Her head lifts and her breasts heave as she breathes quick breaths, screaming, “Oh Fuck! Oh FUCK! OH Fuuuuck!!!” She looks over at me and says, “Don’t just stand there, get me a towel!” I do so.

“I just came to tell you breakfast is ready.”

“Thanks for the coffee, Daddio!”

“When you’re ready, I’ll see you at the breakfast table.”

“But you didn’t kiss me good morning.”

“Yes I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I did – all night long.”

“Yeah. I had to punch you to get you to stop and let me sleep.”

“Well, those were your good morning kisses.”

“I want one now.”

I lean over to kiss her good morning. She lets me kiss her on the lips before pushing my head down between her legs. “I meant there,” she says.

“Lo, I’m not going to eat you out before I eat breakfast. It’s on the table getting cold!”

“Just one kiss, Daddio. Please.”

I indulge her. One kiss turns to a full-on tongue-fuck-fest of every area between her legs from the small of her back to her bellybutton. Luckily she cums quickly. I pull back and go into the bathroom to splash water on my face. Her juices have a way of soaking my beard and mustache. I look up, into the vanity mirror over the sink and see her preparing to pound herself with a dildo.

“OK, that does it!” I call to her. “I’m just going to throw out the breakfast I made.”

“No, Daddio, I’ll be there in. . .” Her words trail off as she becomes preoccupied with the instrumental manipulation of her puss.

I walk out of the bedroom, my hard-on leading the way. I sit down at the breakfast table alone and eat the luke-warm eggs and toast while I hear her sing-song voice of oohs and ahs crescendo from the bedroom.

When we’re both done, I stand up, put my plate and glass in the sink and I bring her her breakfast on a tray.

“Oh, breakfast in bed!” she squeals, leaning over to put her toys away safely stashed under the bed.

“If Mohammed won’t come to the mountain, then the mountain will come to Mohammed.”

“Daddy, I’ll cum to anything.”

“Don’t I know it! What did you cum to today?”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” she says, looking guilty.

“Why? Because you let your eggs and toast get cold?”

She shakes her head, no.

“What is it then? That you used my mouth, but kept all the orgasms to yourself?”

Again she shakes her head in the negative. Keeping orgasms to herself gives her no guilt.

“Then what?”

She passes her phone to me. I look at it. It’s a photo of a giant black cock.

“A friend of yours?”

“Not yet, but I hope someday.”

“Who is it?”

“Just a fan.”

“A fan of your pics, not my writing I assume.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him about it.”

“What’s he have to say for himself?”

“I don’t know. He just sent me this pic and. . .”

“And it’s got you all preoccupied.”

She shook her head yes with a guilty look on her face. “I want it, Daddy!” she said like a girl asking for a big lollipop at the circus.

I turn to leave the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

“To do the dishes.”

“I’ll do it!”

“No, I’ll do it. I don’t like the way you do it. Besides, you have to eat your cold breakfast.”

“Why do you wish to maintain control all the time?”

“It’s not a matter of retaining control. It’s a matter of maintaining standards.”

“You have so many standards. Double standards.”

“I only have one standard. . . the best.”

“That’s my line,” she says, followed by, “but, if you’re speaking about me, then go on.”

I finally walk out the bedroom into the kitchen. As I’m in the midst of putting dishes into the dishwasher, Lo saunters up to the entrance of the kitchen naked as the day she was born, she turns to me and says, “Are you jealous?” She’s always trying to get me jealous, to no avail.

“Lo, you’re standing right where the neighbors can see you through the window, you know.”

“Does that make you jealous?”

“No. But it may make the neighbor’s wife jealous!”

“Phhh,” she sounds dismissively, bending over to give the neighbor a more explicit view. As she’s bent over, she says, “I’m just a hotwife with an exhibitionist’s streak and a loving man who can use his fingers to type out stories that make people come back for more.”

“I don’t think your big friend was coming back for my writing.”

“Well, I can’t help it if behind every good nympho is a line of men waiting to fuck her and behind every bad nympho is a longer line.”

“Which one are you?”

“Fuck me, Daddy, and you’ll see.”

“No, Lo, I already know. I was just testing to see if you would admit to it.”

“The line behind me is very long, very hard,” she says as she reaches over and grabs my cock.

“That doesn’t make sense. How is the line hard?”
“Fuck me and I’ll show you.”

She bends over, this time with her rear towards me rather than toward the window.

“Are you still doing the same old thing?” I ask.

“You mean you?” she asks, looking at me from between her legs.

“Very funny. This ‘old thing’ is going to work.”

“Work on me!”

“Didn’t I make you cum this morning? – and you squirted all over me and the bed!”

“That was a drop in the bucket.”

She wiggles her ass, like she’s playing charades. So I guess, “You’re horny.”

She sees the bulge in my khakis. “And you want me.”

“Yes, Lo. I always want you. But sometimes I have to actually go to work.” I walk over to her and give her wiggling bum a good smack.

“Mmmmm,” she moans, “again!”

I repeat.

“I love spankings,” she says, “they’re like applause, but on my ass! Let me hear how much you like my ass.”

I ‘applaud’ her five or six times. But I do no more than applaud. I then walk out of the kitchen.

“But Daddy,” I hear her call down the hallway, “what about my encore!”

I leave the house and go to work, but on my way home that afternoon, I stop and run a special errand for Lo. For a while now I’ve wanted to try a cock sleeve. I run into my local adult toy shop and peruse the possibilities. After a careful review, I decide on one that is a total of 11 inches, dark brown in complexion, very realistic, and best of all, has a ring to wrap around my balls to anchor the sleeve in place.

Back at home I find that Lo has invited a few people over for a little get-together. Unaware that we were expecting company, I have to find a way of sneaking the rather large box in the house inconspicuously. I decide to pop my head in, say hello to the guests, and declare that we need some more beer. I run out to the local store and pick up a six-pack. I throw the toy in the plain brown bag and rush in, crossing my fingers that no one stops me on the way.

They are all in the living room and I call out, “I’m back! I’ll just pop these in the fridge and be right there.” I head to the bedroom first, hide my stash under the bed, and then put the beer in the fridge, removing one for myself first.

Walking in on our little circle of friends, I take a look at Lo and see that she has put on a stunning little number. Her heels, her short-shorts, and her black tank-top with her one-size-too-small push-up bra under it, giving her quite the shelf popping out of the top. What’s the reason for this, I wonder.

I give her a kiss hello and tell her I’m famished, looking at her quizzically.

Lola complains that the meal she prepared didn’t come out the way that she was hoping.

I say, “You know, I don’t think love is blind so much as love is deaf.”

“What does that mean?” she asks.

“You could go on complaining like that all night, but because you look so good, I don’t hear a thing.”

I get a little laugh from everyone there and then the ‘guests of honor’ arrive. Two young men from across the street who had moved in recently were invited by Lo. Brothers. Built. Did I mention young?

“HH, you remember Roy and Gary,” she says, that look of desire in her eye, her tongue running over her lips as she introduces us. “I just thought,” she says innocently, “since we were having people over, I’d invite them as well.”

“Very neighborly of you,” I say.

The rest of the night goes on with Lo dancing that fine line between being a charming hostess and a wicked vixen.

Finally, past eleven, all our guests leave, including the brothers from across the street.

Lo goes into the bedroom and when I emerge out of the bathroom, cock sleeve firmly in place, Lo nearly jumps in fear and fawning over the giant extension between my legs.

“What the hell is that?!” she cries out.

“Just something special I bought for you today.”

“What? Why? Today?”

“Yes. Because you were so enamored of your fan who sent you that pic that was longer than your forearm.”

“But Daddio, you know I love you,” she says, reaching out to grab the long appendage and feel its heft and girth.

“Yes, but you long for bigger, longer, thicker, and bigger.”

“You mentioned bigger twice.”

“I like how indignant you are.”

“Indignity is my forte.”

“No, lack of dignity is your forte.”

“Daddy, I have loads of dignity. I just prefer to be degraded in the bedroom.”

“Well, do what you do best and get on the bed, spread your legs, make yourself good and wet, and let me pound you with this monster cock.”

“I thought you’d never ask. Oh, and by the way, I’m already super wet. I have been all night.”

“The brothers?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

I do as she wishes and I have to admit that it was a little difficult to fit the bulbous bad-boy in, but once in, Lo takes all of it with grace and gratitude.

“Can I use my Hitachi?” she asks.

“Of course,” I say, since with this sleeve it’s easy for me to lean back and give her enough room to fit her Hitachi over her clit. With the sleeve on, there is significantly less sensation and I welcome the vibrations of the Magic Wand.

Within mere moments Lo is saying, “Pull out! PULL OUT! I have to squirt!”

I do as she says and an impatient stream of spray shoots out on me.

“Holy shit!” she says, as if she had never cum like that before. Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe every time it feels like the first. But just as soon as the words are out of her mouth, she rolls over and says, “Take that silly thing off now and fuck me rawdog!”

I obey and begin from behind her and say, “Lo, don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t even feel you. That sleeve spread you so wide.”

“Don’t you take this the wrong way,” she says over her shoulder, “but I can hardly feel you. Now fuck me like you mean it.”

I do as she commands and as I pound her from behind, all the wetness covering her ass splish-splashes with each thrust and it makes a slick slapping sound.

I continue harder and faster, hoping to register something within her, and after much striving I finally succeed. I hit my target and she cums even harder than she did the first time.

But then something I’ve never seen before happens. She literally passes out mid-orgasm. She faints from fucking. She swoons from sex. She is out cold for about three or four minutes. When she comes to, she just asks to hold me.

“What happened Daddy?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “One minute you were cumming, the next you were out cold. How much did you have to drink tonight?”

“One glass of champagne.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. I swear.”

“Have you ever fainted from fucking before?”

“No Daddy. Never.”

“How do you feel?”

“Great.”

“Did you cum in me Daddy?”

“No, Lo. I didn’t cum at all.”

“Are you sure?” she asks feeling between her legs.

“Yes Lo. That’s all from you.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You were wonderful.”

“But I passed out – literally on you.”

“It’s ok. I took it as a compliment.”

“You would. You have such a big ego.”

“If you’re talking about this,” I say, holding the sheath, “then you’re right. It is big. I had a big ego before, and now it’s even bigger.”

“Daddy, a man’s ego is not his cock size.”

“No. I agree. But the bigger his cock size, the bigger his ego.”

“Well, you’d better watch out. You know what they say?”

“No, what’s that?”

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

“Oh? Is that how it goes? I thought it was, the harder they cum the harder they pass out.”

Spring Showers

Posted on September 19, 2017 by Lola Down

It was a beautiful springtime afternoon. After about three days of storm clouds, rain, wind, and cold temperatures (one should not have to wear a scarf in May!), finally the gray skies gave way to blue and that round, yellow orb appeared. What’s that thing called? Oh yeah, the sun! Birds began singing, and for the first time I realized that the tulips, azaleas, forsythia, dogwoods, and magnolias had bloomed! Could it be? Had the April showers that didn’t respect the calendar finally give way to the May flowers? I was so delighted I decided to leave work early and speed home. I was hoping to meet Lo just as she arrived from her job so we could take a walk together and enjoy this miraculous occurrence.

I got home, not expecting anyone to be there yet. I made for the bedroom to change out of my suit and tie and put on comfortable walking pants and sneakers. I opened the bedroom door, only to shock both myself and Lo who was lying on the bed, pants around her ankles, knees up, giant dildo between her legs held by one hand, her phone held in the other hand as she intently stared at the screen and let out a scream. It was a bit ambiguous, for her scream began as a scream of surprise at my unexpected arrival, but morphed into a scream of climax as she pulled the dildo out of her puss and squirted on the bed, her knees shaking, her tum writhing.

Holding the dildo in her hand victoriously, she smiled at me and said, “Welcome home Daddio!”

“Hi,” I said, confused. “You’re home early.”

“So are you,” she retorted.

“I thought I’d meet you at home when you got here so we could go for a walk. It’s so nice out.”

“Fuck me.”

“What about the walk?”

“Fuck me first. I’m all ready for you.”

I removed my clothes and stood in front of her by the foot of the bed.

“You know, Daddy, that the blinds are open and the windows are open,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“So the neighbors can see you.”

“Do you want me to shut the blinds?”

“No, I’m just pointing out that you’re blocking their view of me.”

“Oh,” I said, a bit confused. “Would you like to ride me reverse cowboy so they have a better angle.”

“Yes. Then I can see them too.”

I got on the bed, lying on my back, and Lo slid her dripping snatch down on my pole. I could see her sexy ass and back from my vantage point. I saw one hand reach for her tits and the other reach for her phone.

“What were you looking at?”

“When?” she asked, not really thinking about my question.

“When you were jillin’ it. When do you think?”

“Nothing Daddy.”

“Don’t tell me nothing,” I said as she bounced up and down. “What are you looking at now?”

“Nothing Daddy.”

“Lo, I’ll put an end to this little romp right now if you don’t tell me.”

“Fine, but you’ll laugh.”

“Laugh?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Here, Daddy, I’ll show you. Slide up.”

We maneuvered on the bed from the reverse cowboy position to doggy-style. She was on her knees and elbows as I was riding behind her. She held up the screen of the phone so I could see. I didn’t have my glasses on, so it was a bit blurry.

“What is that?”

“That’s a penis, if you can believe it.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I told you you’d laugh. It’s so small and tiny it’s hardly recognizable.”

“That’s what got you off?”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” she said.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m just confused.”

“Can you fuck me a little harder?” she asked. In my puzzlement, I had sort of forgot what I was doing for her. I thrusted with more vigor.

“Why were you looking at that?”

“It’s a fan, Daddy. He has a little member. He can only masturbate with his thumb and index finger. And he cums within seconds.”

“I thought you liked monster cocks!”

“Oh, I do!” she said, “But I also like thinking about the novelty of this. Could you imagine if he put that in my mouth while you were fucking me like this? How easy it would be to tease and lick, suck and take in my mouth. I could take his cock and balls easy!”

Now she was cumming and cumming hard. When she cums like that, her powerful convulsions are so strong that she shoots me right out despite my best efforts to stay in. That’s what happened this time. I was so turned on that I grabbed my cock and was ready to blow. She knew it and she swung around and opened her mouth and put out her tongue as if to say, “Fire at will!” I did and it went everywhere. She was covered.

She sat back and blindly reached out her hands for a towel. When I recovered my composure, I got it for her. She wiped herself off and said, “Thank you, Daddy. I’m so glad you can always give me what I want.”

“Not always,” I remarked.

“Well, you always let me have what I want.”

“That’s true.”

She went to the bathroom and cleaned off and when she returned, I asked, “How about that walk?”

“Can we fuck just once more?”

“Lo, I’m down for the count,” I said, looking at my limp, long pleasure part.

“Fine,” she said. “You get ready, I’ll be right out.”

I put on some comfortable clothes and went outside and sat in the lawn chair next to the house. The beautiful day had enticed the neighbors to come outside and clip some hedges. As I sat there, we all could hear Lola’s screams from inside the bedroom window.

“OH! FUCK! OH! Fuck fuck fuck!”

I smiled nervously at the neighbors and waved and said, “She must have stubbed her toe.”

Mercifully, Lo’s howls were brief and when she came outside wearing her slutty shorts, I could see the neighbors’ judgments as if they were in thought-bubbles above their heads. Both Lo and I received their condemnation as a compliment.

We started on our walk and about two blocks down the street Lo stopped. She looked up at me, motionless for a moment. Her knees were pressed up against each other as she held onto my arm for support.

“Lo, are you ok?” I asked.

She raised her index finger so as to say, “Give me one second.”

I waited.

“We have to turn back,” she said.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I was very worried.

“I just squirted, again.”

She turned around and, walking up the hill, I could see her blue-jean cutoffs were soaked in the crotch and it was dripping down her inner thigh.

We scampered home and waved at the neighbors nervously as we slipped in the front door.

So much for the end of April showers.

Game Time

Posted on September 10, 2017 by Lola Down

It was Thursday. The Thursday before Super Bowl Sunday to be exact. It was just your average Thursday until, unable to shake a persistent cold, I went to the doctor. After a check-up, X-rays and bloodwork, I was diagnosed with pneumonia and ordered to get bedrest. Lo, of course, was as caring and fussing as the most attentive nurse and she took pity on my pain and suffering.

“Daddio?” she said Thursday night.

“What?” I replied in a raspy whisper.

“You know, it’s been so long since. . .”

“Lo, don’t tell me you want to fuck.”

“OK, I won’t tell you,” she said, reaching her hand to my groin, “but I’ll show you.”

She pulled out her double-ended dildo and, before she could go to town with it, I interrupted. “Lo, I just need to get some sleep. If you want to fuck your brains out with that thing, can you do it in the living room?”

“Daddio, it’s been days!”

“According to my calculations,” I replied, “I think it’s been since Tuesday.”

“Yes! You see – two days!”

“Living room.”

She moped away, dildo in hand, her intentions of seducing me shattered.

I didn’t hear much more from her that night because I quickly fell off to sleep, the Nyquil silencing any extraneous noise she may have made during her solo session.

The next day when she came home from work I was recuperating on the couch, watching mind-numbing TV. I turned to Lo and asked, “Why is everything on TV so stupid?”

“Because smart doesn’t sell,” she said without missing a beat.

“Where are you going?” I asked her as I saw her put down her work bag and pick up her clutch.

“Out,” she said simply. She pulled a piece of paper out of her clutch and looked it over.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s my ‘to do’ list.”

“Oh yeah? Whose names are on it?”

“Funny. Do you need anything?”

“Some more orange juice and throat lozenges.”

“What you need is sex,” she said, bending over to put on her pumps.

“I still have a 102 temperature.”

“I’m just saying, sex, it does a body good,” she smirked, looking at me upside-down between her legs.

“It sure does your body good, but mine is beyond repair.”

“Oh, Daddio,” she said as she blew an air-kiss my way, “I’ll get you your OJ and lozenges. Kiss kiss.”

Later, as I lay on the couch wallowing in my misery, Lola sent me a pic on my phone. It was of her topless in panties. “Like?” she asked in the text.

“Where are you and what are you doing?”

“Shopping. I thought you could use a little lingerie photo shoot.”

She was in the changing room of Victoria’s Secret or something, taking seflies for me. I can’t deny that, even in my state of dysphoria, I found her antics alluring.

I texted her which panties I liked. There were not many that I didn’t like.

“Maybe I can sell them on-line?” she texted back.

“People can buy them themselves from the store, you know.”

“I meant my used panties,” she responded.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah. Go for it.”

“I’m coming,” she texted.

“Lo, this is no time for you to be masturbating in public!”

“I mean, I’m coming home now.”

“Oh.” Phew.

Soon she was walking in the door and she asked me how I was feeling.

“The same. Still watching mind-numbing cable TV.” A cooking show was on instructing how to make a baked pastry filled with fruit.

“I love those,” said Lo, sitting next to me. “Do you?”

“I hate tarts. . . . Present company excluded, of course.”

“Mmmm, this is making me hungry,” said Lo. “Did you eat anything today?”

“Yes. I made myself lunch.”

“What did you have?”

“I had a grilled cheese and a chocolate milk.”

“You realize,” said Lo, “that that is the lunch of an average fifth-grader.”

“Are you implying that I’m average?”

“Ugh. Are you hungry?”

“No dear.”

“You should eat.”

“No thank you.”

Lola went into the kitchen and, before long I heard her cussing at something. I got up and saw her having a devil of a time trying to flip her omelet. “Stand back,” I said, “it needs a man’s touch.”

“Well, I know something does,” she said to me. After I flipped it she asked, “Do you want me to blow you?” and she dropped to her knees on the kitchen floor.

“No, I don’t want you to blow me. I’m sick.”

“And I’m horny. Each of us can cure the other,” she said looking up at me, fumbling in my pajama bottoms for my cock.

“Lola, your omelet is ready.”

She sat down and I served her. As she ate she asked me, “How do you reconcile my silly and sexy sides?”

Sitting across from her, nursing a drink of water, I said, “You’re a complete cable package with porno channels and Comedy Central.”

“I like that,” she said. “I can’t wait to show you my new panties.”

“You already did – virtually.”

When we went to bed, I was still feeling miserable. I rejected Lola once more and she made a little tent of the sheets and opened up her phone and went to town on herself to who-knows-what naughtiness of pornographic material. We had gone to bed early, around nine, and when I woke up around eleven, she was still at it. Ignoring her, I used the bathroom and returned. She didn’t even notice my brief absence, or at least she didn’t indicate any notice.

The next morning, Saturday, she sauntered naked into the living room where I was sitting, sipping my tea and honey. “Morning dear,” she said.

“Oh, what a long fucking night,” I responded, having slept very poorly.

“Back in the day we’d have a long night fucking,” she quipped, followed by, “Those days can happen again, Sugar.”

“Not today they won’t!” I insisted, exhausted by her libido without having enjoyed any of its fringe benefits in days.

“Awww,” she said, cuddling up to me, “still not feeling well?”

“A little better,” I said. “At least I’m hungry. That’s a good sign.”

“I’ll make you breakfast,” she offered enthusiastically. “How about pancakes?”

“OK.”

She went to the kitchen and I followed her when I could smell the delicious aroma.

“Uh oh,” she said.

“What?”

“Too high, too long.”

“What?”

“My pancake. The heat was on too high and I left it on too long. It burned.”

“Oh no it didn’t. That’s just how I like it!”

I ate and was feeling better. We needed to do food shopping and I offered to go with Lola to the store. She drove and when we got there, she said, “You stay here. I’ll go in.”

“No, I can go,” I protested.

“You rest. I’ll go in.”

“Why can’t we both go in?”

“I’ll give you three good reasons: I’ll make it quicker, cheaper, and easier. Now that I think about it – that’s exactly what people said about me in college.”

“You are incorrigible.”

When we got back home, having missed work on Friday, I tried to do a little work from home that afternoon since I was feeling slightly better (at least I had no fever). Lo came in the room, naked again but for her new thong, trying to seduce me. I tried telling her that I had a lot of work to do. “I’m really quite behind.”

As if on que, she bent over and showed me her ass, the thong hardly visible.

“That’s quite a behind too,” I said.

“And it’s all yours, Daddio.”

“Let’s not exaggerate. All?”

“Well, you can have it all right now, if you want. And then later someone else can have it all.”

“At least you’re more accurate now.”

“Well?”

“Not now darling.”

“Fine!” she said, pouting. “I’m going out tonight.”

“Fine.”

Later she appeared, all dolled up, wearing her favorite earrings designed like little anchors and a sweater with a nautical theme designed into it.

“Well, don’t you look cute,” I said, trying to be nice.

“I look like a little sailor!”

“Trying to find semen.”

She threw a pillow at me. “You’re crude and rude!”

“It’s true.”

“Even if it is true, you have a vulgar mouth.”

“As Jesus said, it’s not what comes out of the mouth that makes it vulgar, it’s what you put in.”

“Well, darling, when I come back home tonight and tell you what I’ve put in it, I guarantee that Jesus never imagined such a string of words coming out of anyone’s mouth, especially not from such a little angelic beauty as I.”

“I can’t wait. Pack your condoms! A sailor doesn’t want to get caught without a rain jacket!”

“Don’t you worry,” she said as she kissed me goodbye.

I heard nothing from her the rest of the night.

When she got home, long after I had turned in for some much needed sleep, I heard her undress and slither under the sheets, pressing her chilly skin up against my nice, warm, almost feverish body.

“Did you have a good time, darling?”

“Frustrating,” she whispered.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“We went to a gay bar.”

“Where’d you go and who’d you go with?”

She gave me the details and then told me that they went to see a burlesque show. It got her all riled up without any release.

“And, let me guess – now you are crawling back from your fishing expedition looking for my rod.”

“Let me have it.”

“No,” I said.

“Let me suck it.”

“No.”

“Please. Let me just hold it.”

“Lo, I’m still sick.”

“Me too. I want you to catch what I have.”

“Lo.”

She knew I wasn’t joking around. For a third night in a row she was reduced to playing with her toys rather than me (or someone else).

The next day was Super Bowl Sunday and we had been invited over to Mark and Stephanie’s for the game. I still wasn’t sure if I was up for it. I was feeling light-headed and dizzy, occasionally perspiring and having the chills. I didn’t think it was a good idea. Lo pleaded with me, however. She did her level best to nurse me all morning and afternoon, and when 4:00 came around and a game-time decision had to be made, I conceded and said I’d go.

It was a big crowd and Mark and Stephanie had gone all out to make it a super Super Bowl party. There were dips and sandwiches, a fully stocked bar and coolers of beer, and Mark was even manning the grill outside on the deck next to the Jacuzzi. And apparently it was a no-kids party, since I saw neither hide nor hair of the little rug-rats.

We got there and Lo took as little interest in the game as I did in the food. Unfortunately, due to my infirmity, I had no appetite. Lo, got me comfortably seated close to the TV and then she flitted around in her short skirt and sexy blouse. She looked good and I enjoyed watching her go from circle to circle smiling and seducing with her charms. At one point she came over to check on me and she grabbed my bicep and said, “Mmmm, I want you.”

“You don’t fool me, Lo,” I responded back.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I know perfectly well what it is you want.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You want Mark’s meat – and I don’t mean all the burgers and sausages he’s cooking on the grill.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Her apology was an admission of guilt. “But he’s wearing that short sleeve shirt and, rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” her tongue made a purring sound, “he’s so hot. But I really do want you.”

“You want to hop on my cock and use me while you think about him.”

“Just the same, I still want you.”

“I’m flattered,” I said flatly.

“Come on, I’ve been denied for almost a week now!”

Cock substitutes are no substitute for cock according to Lo.

The party and the game went on close to midnight and when it was over someone – the safe money is on Lo – suggested getting into the hot tub.

By this time, I was long ready to go, but I stuck it out on Lo’s account. She, of course, had no bathing suit, but that wasn’t going to stop her. Mark descended the staircase in his Speedo and carrying a few robes and towels for people. There was room for six or eight in the tub, but I abstained, not wishing to catch double pneumonia. Mark, a couple of other neighbors, and Lo all were game, however. The neighbors and Lo took turns getting out of their clothes and into their birthday suits under their robes in the downstairs bathroom. Then it was out into the cold dark night, on the deck, beer and wine in hand, and, down fell the robes, in went the naked bodies to the tub. I could see the crew from the kitchen window where I stood, next to Stephanie who also chose to forego the midnight hot tub excursion. Whether it was due to disgust at Mark’s behavior, jealousy of Lola, compassion (or some other feeling) for me, or her stated reason, “to clean up,” I don’t know. All I know is that as she collected and cleared off the dirty dishes, I helped by arranging them in the dishwasher.

Occasionally, I peeked out the window that looked out from the kitchen over the deck, but, not intending to gawk, I made conversation with Stephanie, who, I spied, also was monitoring the situation in the tub from her perch behind the kitchen sink.

“It was so nice of you and Mark to have us all over for the game. You two throw a great party.”

“Oh, we’re just so glad you could make it. I was really worried when I heard about your pneumonia.”

“I’ve been taking my antibiotics and I’m no longer contagious, I promise. I’ve been taking my antibiotics for four days now. I’m just feeling lousy at this point.”

“Well, you really rallied for tonight.”

“It’s always nice to see you. . . and Mark and it was sweet of you to invite us.”

“To be honest, we think you two are a great couple!”

“Thanks. I wish I could live up to my part of the bargain tonight.”

“You are. See, we’re getting to talk now.”

The truth was, I was feeling weak-kneed, but was rallying for both Stephanie’s sake and to keep a close eye on Lo.

“I wish I could be more fun. It looks like they’re having a good time out there in the hot tub surrounded by the snow.” I gestured out the window in an attempt to get a sense of Stephanie’s thoughts on it.

“I’m sure Mark is having the time of his life,” Stephanie said, almost to herself.

“What? What’s that?” I asked as she passed me a plate.

“Oh, nothing.” She dismissed her comment.

“I hope that Lo isn’t making. . .” I didn’t know what to say, but luckily Stephanie rescued my faltering ellipses.

“Me jealous? That’s not it. Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes, please do,” I said.

“After our second kid, I just lost all of my sex-drive. I feel terribly guilty about it. I love Mark. I love him so much and I know he loves me.” She grabbed a paper towel to wipe her eyes that were watering up. “But, I just don’t feel it anymore. I don’t know what happened. I want him to be happy and I know that he. . . never mind.”

“He what?” I was desperate for her to continue. “You can tell me. It’s ok.”

“I know he finds Lola attractive. Who wouldn’t? So, let him have his fun. But I shouldn’t say that. Doesn’t it bother you to hear me say that?”

I took ahold of Stephanie’s elbow and I said to her very quietly, “You both deserve to be happy.” I had no idea what I meant by that and I think that Stephanie didn’t know what to make of it either. Those were just the words that came out of my mouth in a moment of connection and compassion.

I was keen on giving her a hug, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure exactly how non-contagious I was and I didn’t know if it would be welcomed at that moment. As I held Stephanie’s arm, she and I both gazed out the window and we saw Lo emerge, naked as Venus from the churning sea, grab towel, wrap it around herself and then she popped into the kitchen.

“I’ll just be a minute,” Lo said.

“Are you ready, so soon?” I asked, half mocking.

“Thanks for being a dear. Yes. I’ll just get dressed and. . .” She closed the bathroom door and a moment later she popped out. We waved a friendly good-bye and thank you to our hosts and their guests, still outside, and then Lo drove home.

“How was the hot tub, darling?” I asked.

“It was good,” she said. She was speeding.

“Take it easy, the cops are just looking for a reason to pull anyone over tonight.”

“I want to get home and do you!”

“What happened out there?”

“Nothing. I just want you. It’s been a long time.”

“Nothing? Really? Now why don’t I believe that?”

“OK, ok. Fine,” she said, reaching over to grab my crotch.

“You’re driving, you know. And this ain’t a stick-shift.”

“I was sitting across from Mark, naked, looking at his big broad shoulders.”

“Dreamy,” I said sarcastically.

“Dreamy,” she repeated, “especially as the steam wafted off the surface of the water. I would keep on ‘accidentally’ popping my nipples just above the water line so he could see.”

“And everyone else.”

“And everyone else,” she repeated, again groping at my crotch. “Are you getting hard?”

“Never you mind and continue with your story.”

“Well, I had one hand down between my legs.”

“You’re bad.”

“I couldn’t help it, Daddy.”

“Did anyone notice?”

“I don’t think so. But, as I stroked it, I kept playing footsie with Mark. He didn’t say anything, but I know he liked it. At one point, he got up out of the tub to grab another beer and. . .” She pulled her hand from my crotch and placed it in hers.

“And what?”

“And he was so hard, he was practically exploding out of that tiny bathing suit he wore!” Her hand was up her short dress.

“You came.”

“I’m cumming.”

“I mean then.”

“Yes. And now.”

“That’s why you wanted to go. You couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Right.”

“I can’t take you anywhere.”

“You’re going to take me to bed and fuck me senseless!”

That was the last thing I remember of the ride home. I suppose I passed out from exhaustion. The next thing I felt was Lo trying to wake me gently from the driver’s seat as we sat in the garage at home. Like a somnambulist, I found my way to bed. I was the one senseless, not Lo.

The next day, Monday, was a blizzard. Both Lo and I could have slept in. But I had missed work since Thursday of the previous week. I had to go in, at least for a little while. So, early in the morning, before the flakes had fully accumulated, I snuck out while Lo was still soundly asleep, naked in the warm bed. I got to work, feeling much improved, took care of some urgent matters, and then drove home carefully through the poorly plowed streets.

When I got back, I found Lo still in bed. I took one look at her and said, “You masturbated, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident.”

“Well, I’m going to shovel.”

“What should I do?”

“You could help me shovel, if you’re not too wet.”

“I don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Alright. See you later,” I said, and, bundling up I went outside to clear the driveway.

I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t mad. I was actually glad. Yes, I was still recovering from pneumonia. Yes, I had gone into work on a horrible winter’s day when most of the city stayed home. Yes, Lo had been inside all morning, sleeping late, sexing herself up, and probably jillin’ it once more even as I shoveled away. But the thought of her, nestled up under the covers pleasuring herself filled me with joy. I’m a lucky guy. I can lose sight of that sometimes. Not this time. I shoveled with a smile on my face. When I was done, to my surprise and delight, Lo was not in bed, fucking herself silly to her favorite Tumblr pages. She was in a silky black negligee, helping me out of my bundled jackets and scarves, and then bringing me a hot cocoa as she tucked me under a throw on the couch.

“What’s all this for?” I asked.

“I just love you and I want you to know that I’m the luckiest gal in the world to have you, Daddio.”

“What do you want, Lo?” I asked in my Ricky Ricardo tone.

“Nothing, Daddio. Honest. I just was lying in bed and I realized all you do for me. I just wanted to do something nice in return.”

I sipped my hot cocoa and read a little of the Sunday paper that was still lying out on the coffee table from yesterday.

Lola sat on the couch next to me, her left hand slowly made its way under my covers to my crotch. She grabbed my cock and then began pumping it as I read.

“Lo?”

“Yes, Daddio?”

“What are you doing?”

“Do you like?”

“What are you doing?”

“Giving you a hand-job.”

She continued for a little while. Then she pulled her hand away and, like a groundhog or ferret, she nosed her way under the blankets, getting her face buried between my legs and went to work on me with her mouth. At a certain point, I put down the paper and began guiding her head gently up and down.

She abruptly stopped before I was ready to spout. “Let’s go to the bedroom, Daddio. I want to tell you something special.”

She led me down the hall, hopped on the edge of the bed in her little black nighty, revealing her naked ass and puss to me. “Mount me,” she commanded. I did as she said.

“What did you want to tell me?”

When she had caught her breath, she whispered over her shoulder, “I was so bad last night.”

“Yes, Lo, you were. That’s what you wanted to tell me?”
“No, there’s more but. . .” She was enjoying herself at this point, too much to talk. She came in about fifteen seconds. As she came she was yelling, “I love your cock! I love your cock!” When she was done she said, “Flip me over and fuck me.”

I did as she asked. I put her on her back on the side of the bed, held her heels up by my shoulders, and went at her.

“Do you think he liked seeing my pussy, Daddy?” she asked.

“Yes, Lo. Who wouldn’t?”
“I had got it all smooth for him.”

“So, you had that all planned out?”

“No. But a woman should be prepared for the unexpected display of her pussy at all times.”

“A woman, or a slut like you?”

“That’s right, Daddy. Tell me what I am.”

“A slut. A trollop. A dirty, cheap, exhibitionist.” I went on and she came to the cadence of my nasty names. She came so hard she sqeezed me right out and squirted on the floor. I grabbed my throbbing rod and watched.

“Can you hold it in for just one more?” she asked. “I’ve got one more BIG orgasm to go. Pleeeease, Daddio. I know you haven’t cum in a long time. Just hold it in a little longer and then you can cum all over my face. Promise.”

“How do you want it?”

“Here,” she said, positioning me on the bed. “Lie back. I want to taste myself on you.” She lay me down on the bed and got on her knees and went to town between my legs. If she wanted me to withhold my orgasm until she had one more, this was not the way to do it. I felt like her face was in imminent danger of being in the direct line of my fire.

She stopped just in time. She knows me (or cock) well. She went to climb up on top of me, straddling my body with her legs, her knees on the bed. Before she lowered herself down on my very stiff and erect phallus, I said, “No. Wait a minute.” I closed my eyes. Just looking at her may have put me over the edge. I took deep breaths, but all I could think about was seeing her getting in and out of the hot tub the previous night. Just the thought was enough to coax a slow orgasm out of me. I tried to change the channel of my imaginings, but it was as if that special was playing on every station!

“Put a condom on me,” I said.

“What?” she asked in disbelief. We never use condoms. We only keep them around for her special guests.

“Put a condom on me. It’s the only way.”

She hopped off, rummaged through the nightstand drawer, pulled out a string of condoms and hastily slid it over my ramrod. The interval was a good distraction for me. When she was done, she resumed her position and began bouncing up and down, pulling her tits. The barrier between her dripping pussy and my hard, throbbing cock was just enough to keep me going without my going too far.

I reached up to her breasts. “Pull and twist,” she said. “Harder.” I was stretching out her nipples by about an inch and then turning them clockwise a full 180 degrees. She wanted more. I pulled further, twisted further. She was moaning and bouncing and dripping – I could feel it on my lap.

“When you cum, call his name,” I said. I wasn’t sure if she heard me. She was in a frenzy with her eyes closed tight, biting her lip, bouncing her tits up and down. “Call out Mark’s name when you cum.”

No sooner had I repeated the instruction than she started yelling, “Oh FUCK! Mark! Fuck! I fucking love your cock! Mark! Mark! Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark Mark!” She was saying his name every time her hips descended down to bounce off of mine. She was riding fast, at a gallop until she stopped, frozen, held it, and gushed a waterfall downward. At that, I finally gave myself permission to cum and I did, filling the condom with all the pent-up desire that I had unspent over the past week. It was amazing.

When we were done, after catching our breath like runners at the end of a marathon, we lay looking at each other. “He really riles you up, doesn’t he?”

“Not like you, Daddio.”

“Lo, after all of that, don’t you think you can tell me the truth?”

“It’s true. You’re the one for me.”

“But he turns you on.”

“A lot of things turn me on. Does that make you jealous?”

“It would, except you’re right. A lot of things do turn you on and if you weren’t turned on by Mel Brooks, Abbi Jacobson, and certain specimens of other species I actually might be jealous. But due to your pansexual nature, I try to take it all in stride.”

“That’s why I love you, Daddo. You really get me.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you rile him up as well.”

“Really?! She said, her eyes lighting up, her body jumping to all fours like a puppy ready to play fetch.

“Yes. Stephanie told me as much last night.”

“What?! Tell me. Tell me.” Her imaginary tail was wagging with anticipation.

“When you were in the hot tub, playing footsie and showing off your tits. . .”

She interrupted with a long moan of pleasure at the memory.

“Stephanie and I were talking in the kitchen and she told me that she and Mark haven’t had sex since there second kid was born.”

“I knew that already.”

“And she went on to say that she thinks we’re a great couple and that Mark deserves to get his rocks off to the likes of you.”

“She said that?!”

“Well, not in so many words, but the message came through.”

Lola was running her tongue over her teeth in excitement now.

“Maybe you should clue him into the blog?”

I saw her wheels turning and the exciting prospect of having Mark getting to see Lola up close in all those sexy pics of her and hearing all about her nymphomaniacal exploits, jackin’ it to her every untoward adventure. But then she said, “No. Impossible. We can’t reveal our secret selves to anyone we know. It’s too incriminating! You didn’t tell Stephanie, did you?”

“Of course not, dear. That’s your story to tell.”

“Well, I did leave a calling card of sorts.”

“You left one of your Lola Down cards there?! But you just said. . .”

“No no no. I may have, accidentally, totally not on purpose left my panties at their house.”

“You what?!”

“I’m sorry, Daddy. It was an accident. I think they must have fell when I was picking up my clothes.”

“I’ve heard of Freudian slips before, but this takes the cake! How could you not know you didn’t have your panties on?!”

“I knew I didn’t have them, I just couldn’t find them. They must have fallen out somewhere when I bunched up my clothes after getting into the robe. I don’t know. Should I text Mark to look for them?”

“No! Of course not.”

She gave me a quizzical look.

“Oh no, Lo. Don’t tell me you already did.”

“I just didn’t want Stephanie to find them.”

“And what did he say?”

“He said he found them and could return them to me.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said, ‘That’s OK. You can throw them out. . .or do whatever with them.”

“Lola!” Now it was really Ricky and Lucy.

Hopeless, Romantic

Posted on August 30, 2017 by Lola Down

I walked into the office and said, “Ms. Gale, please block out the week of July first through July tenth. I’m going on vacation.”

She looked up from her desk, her blue eyes framed by her wide-rimmed glasses, and asked, “Vacation?! Where?”

“That’s right, vacation. I’ve gotta get outta here. I booked a resort hotel for Lo and me on a beach in Maui.”

“Ooooo, really?” she squealed with excitement. “Are you going to propose to her there?”

The question took me by surprise. “Propose? Why would I do a darn-fool thing like that?”

“Because, Mr. H., that’s what people do at those romantic resorts on the beach.”

“People,” I said with scorn. “I am not people.”

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you? Why are you just stringing her along?”

“Ms. Gale, you are correct, I am madly in love with Lola.”

“So why don’t you get married to her?”

“Because I am madly in love with Lola. I am not madly in love with marriage. Marriage is a comfort that, once achieved, leads to the erosion of love.”

“Oh, Mr. H., you’re such a stick-in-the-mud.”

“And you, Ms. Gale, are a busybody twenty-something who has never been married, divorced, or lived fifty some-odd years to learn from experience.”

“Well, that’s no reason not to get married.”

“If you’re so crazy about marriage, why don’t you marry Lola?” I asked as I walked out of the reception area where Ms. Gale had her desk, slamming the door to my private office.

That was how my day started. It only got worse from there. Needless to say, by the end of the work day, which was nine at night for me, I was in no mood for Lo’s tomfoolery.

I walked into the bedroom, found Lola naked under the sheets, doing what Lola is always doing when she’s naked under the sheets with easy access to her phone, and I began to undo my tie and remove my button-down shirt.

“Oh yeah,” Lo moaned.

“Is that meant towards me, or your porn video?” I asked as I removed my pants.

Without taking her eyes off the video or her hand from between her legs, she said, “Yes.”

I washed up in the bathroom and returned, taking off my pants and getting under the sheets next to Lo. “Well, Daddio, am I going to get any tonight?” she asked as she was rubbing her pussy lips under the covers with one hand and holding my flaccid cock with the other hand, the phone with the video still playing next to her, flat on the bed. I could hear the couple in the video moaning and groaning.

“You have to get me hard first,” I said.

“That seems to be an insurmountable obstacle,” she replied, lifting and dropping my soft dick.

“Really? I never thought I’d hear you say that.”

“I never have had that problem. . . with other men.”

Within moments I was asleep, or so Lo told me the next morning. She had to get her rocks off without me. . . again.

When I woke in the morning, I found her curled up next to me, her eyes already open. “You can fuck me if you want to” were her first words to me.

Luckily, having expelled all my bad feelings of the previous day through my sleep, I was very “up” that morning.

“Roll over on your back and spread your legs,” I said. My first words to her.

“Oh, Daddy! You’re so romantic!” I honestly couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or sarcastic.

I positioned myself over her naked body and took a good look at her. “You look good,” I said.

“Prove it!”

“The proof is in the puddin’, and I’m puddin’ it in you.” I slid in. She was dripping wet. “Lo,” I said once I was deep inside her.

“Yes, Daddy?”

“How long have you been up?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Did you jill it?”

“When?”

“This morning.”

“Yes.”

“How many times?”

“Daddy, I’ve been jillin’ it since last night. I have no idea how many times. I’m sore and soaked and I want you.”

“What have you been jillin’ it to?”

“Daddy, I can’t remember it all. Just shut up and fuck me. Please.”

I shut up and gave her what she asked for. But she asked, “Can I turn over, Daddy, please?”

I let her turn onto her tum and she put her ass up in the air to be had from behind. But then I saw her grabbing her phone and looking at it. One hand held it up for her to see and the other was manipulating her clit. I tried to see what she was looking at, but couldn’t quite make it out.

“Lo, what is that?” I asked as I leaned forward and put my hands on her shoulders to see better.

“Never you mind. Just get back there and do your job. I want to feel you, hard and deep and hard.”

I complied with her demands. She came. At the moment when I felt her pussy clench on my cock, I came too, deep inside her. She collapsed into the pillows, dropping her phone. I fell on top of her. Eventually, I slowly pulled out. Looking down at her, I quoted one of her favorite films, “Little full, lotta sap.”

She laughed and then said, “Clean me up.”

I took care of her and then suddenly she was up and out of bed.

“I have to go now,” she said.

“But you only just came!”

“Work, Daddio. I have a job, remember?”

She went into the bathroom to get ready. I picked up her phone and went through her browsing history. I was shocked by what I saw, but I figured I’d ask her about it that evening, when we could explore her fantasies together. I put down her phone as if I wasn’t looking at it just as she opened the door to the bathroom. She was putting on her makeup. “Honest answer,” she called to me, “do I look like a trollop to you?”

“Honestly? – Not enough of a trollop.”

“Perfect. That’s just what I’m going for.”

Pound

Posted on August 9, 2017 by Lola Down

Pound

“Don’t hug her, hug me!” Lola demands, picking up my pillow and chucking it across the room.

“Jealous much? It’s a pillow, not a mistress.”

“Yeah, well, hug me, damn it.”

I cuddle up with her naked body. I grab her by the curves just under her bellybutton and just above her puss. I squeeze it.

“Stop,” she says.

“I love this part of you. It’s my favorite.”

“Is it a FUPA?”

“A what?”

“Fat Upper Pussy Area?”

“If you want to call it that.”

“No, I don’t want to call it that!”

“You brought it up.”

“Cause you’re kneading me like dough.”

“Cause I knead you. Get it? I ‘knead’ you?”

“Yeah, I get it. I still don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“I put on a pound or two.”

“And, if you ask me, you could put on a pound or two more. I find you incredibly sexy!”

“You find my fat incredibly sexy.”

“I find all of you incredibly sexy. What difference does it make what turns me on?”

She reaches down to feel me between my legs.

“Also, your pecker here was protruding into me all night,” she says.

“I know,” I say, “I was hard all night.”

“Then why didn’t you fuck me?”

“Because you were asleep.”

“First, so? And second, it would have been preferable to this –” She demonstrates by rubbing her hands up and down my chest rapidly.

“I did not do that to you all night.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I was asleep.”

“Well, I have come to the conclusion that the only reason you have such strong biceps is from all of this motion you do all night long.” She performs the curling motion of her arm going up and down my chest.

“You may be right,” I humbly admit.

She reaches down between my legs again. “Feels like that must hurt.”

“Yeah,” I say.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Fuck me.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Use me. Go on. Get your rocks off. Get it all out of your system.”

She spreads her legs and reaches down with two hands and spreads something even more intimate.

“You look good.”

“Fuck me,” she commands.

I slide into her wet and waiting hole. It didn’t take long before I pull out and, grabbing my cock, cum on her face.

“Feel better?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Much.”

I get up and clean up. I eat breakfast and after breakfast I hear Lo calling me from the bedroom. “Come!”

“Are you summoning me or giving me a real-time account of your activities?”

“Come!” is all I hear in response. I follow the sounds and find her as I left her – naked and spread on the bed.

“Cuddle me, Daddy,” she says in her little-girl voice.

“Lo, I have to. . .”

“Just get into bed and hold me while I use my Hitachi.”

I climb into bed next to her, fully clothed, and hold her. She puts the machine between her legs.

“I’m sorry you didn’t cum earlier,” I whisper to her.

“Oh, I did.”

“Really? I didn’t even hear you.” That was unusual.

“Yeah, well, I held it in because I was mad at you. I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

“Why?”

“Cause I was mad at you.”

“I can’t believe you came. I was so fast.”

“It turns me on when you pound me furiously, using me to get your rocks off. I like being your fuck-toy.”

“Mine and everyone else’s.”

“Now shut up. I’m trying to masturbate.”

“You know what I was thinking about when I came?” No answer. All I hear is the soothing hum of her Hitachi. “I was thinking about you and me going on our vacation next month, finding that nude beach and walking down it together. All the guys would see you in your birthday-bathing-suit and you’d lead them on. They’d follow us and, as you’re lying on your blanket, you’d encourage them to jack it over you. There’d be about six of them and they’d be jackin’ it to your naked body. All of them would cum on you. Some two at a time, some taking turns. You’d be covered in jizz and then you’d proudly get up and walk slowly across the sand into the water to wash off.”

She clicks the Magic Wand into high gear and says, “Shhhhh. No talking. No talking while masturbating.” And then she cums and cums hard. Her knees shoot up into the air and she squeezes her legs together tightly.

I hold her as her whole body convulses and she lets out a stream of expletives. Then I get naked and push her knees apart. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to fuck you,” I say.

“But. . .”

“But what?”

“But I just came.”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to fuck you.”

She no longer resists. I try to penetrate her, but find I can’t. “Is that the right spot?” I ask.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re so tight. I thought it was your ass.”

“I’m tight because I stopped my squirting. I didn’t want to squirt. I just changed the sheets.”

“Well, let me in.”

“Push and push hard,” she says.

I do as she commands and cannot believe the resistance I’m met with. Once I am fully enveloped by her, I say, “That’s better.” It’s as if a switch had gone off and she went from snug and still to stretched and swashing. She cums again, harder than before. I pull out, dripping wet from her.

“Aren’t you going to cum?” she asks, perplexed.

“No, darling. That was all for you.”

“Please,” she begs. “Cum on me just like you described those guys on the beach cumming on me. Stand over me, you letch, and jack off hard to my naked body.”

I stand up on the bed and grab my manhood and stroke it furiously. Her natural lubricant is all I need. Her fingers are pulling at her pussy lips as she says salacious things to me. “You like? You like my pussy? You want it old man? You think you could satisfy me?”

I see her looking up at me, enjoying what she sees. She continues to talk dirty.

“You know what I was thinking about when I came?” she asks. “I was thinking that I wish that there was a way to go to the local animal shelter and say, ‘Do you have any unneutered dogs that need to get their rocks off?’ They’d lead me to a special room where women can go to be mounted. They’d let in one, two, ten dogs, depending on how much I want to volunteer. I’d get naked and on my knees and. . .”

Before her words form images in my mind, I cum like rain down on her tits, her chest, her neck, her face. Just the sound of her words are enough.

“That’s it,” she says as her hand reaches up to touch my balls, feeling them as I ejaculate. “That’s it. Unload. Feel better? Good dog. Now get back to the pound where you belong.”

mysexlifewithlola

The trials and tribulations of dating a nymphomaniac.

Tag Archives: tits

Lola Left to Her Own Devices

Like this:

My Love is a Red Red Rosebud

Like this:

We’re Good

Like this:

Cake & Bar – Interview with a Kinky Amateur Porn Couple

Like this:

Truth Stick

Like this:

Bigger, Harder, Longer

Like this:

Spring Showers

Like this:

Game Time

Like this:

Hopeless, Romantic

Like this:

Pound

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this:

Share this:

Like this: