Tag Archives: water sports
The (Not So) Secret Life of Lo the Nympho
5
Lo’s kungfu Grip
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuck!”
That wasn’t Lola firing off those five fucks in a row, that was me. Lo had just used her left hand, filled with moisturizing cream, to get me off in my pajama bottoms. This has become an almost nightly routine for us now. We get into bed – she naked, me in my pajama bottoms – and she says, “Do you want me to milk you Daddy?”
I almost always say yes.
On the rare occasions that I ask her if I can have her, to fuck her, you know, the old-fashioned way of intercourse, she usually just reaches down between my legs and squeezes her cream-filled hand around my hard rod. I am powerless to protest. She strokes to climax – always my climax – and then I fall off to sleep in my cum-filled pjs, too spent to change.
This nightly ritual has spurred me to purchase five or six more pajama bottoms in order that I have something to wear the next night.
What Lo does after my dissipated desire allows me to nod off is a mystery.
But recently I have gained a glimpse into that dark, hidden recess.
After hearing from Ginger and her transformation from housewife to hotwife, Lo became curious about the legalized brothels of Nevada. Apparently, she had been doing internet research on her own late at night.
Fit Ginger Hotwife
Fit Ginger Hotwife
“Daddy,” she said one day over breakfast, “it has been a long time since we went on a vacation.”
“True,” I said, sipping my coffee. “What do you have in mind?” I knew she was up to something nefarious.
“Well,” she began, looking off into the middle distance to conjure her vision like a fey dreamer, “in Nevada prostitution is legal.”
“With certain qualifications,” I said, being a cold, hard realist. Very hard.
Undeterred by my interruption, she continued, “And I’ve looked into it. They have special vacation, well, uh, sort of sex-tourism packages.”
Lola’s eye is always attracted to a big package. “I’m confused,” I said.
“Daddy, they issue a special license for tourists to prostitute themselves.”
“No – really?”
She nodded enthusiastically. Then she looked up at me with those pleading puppy eyes. “Please, Daddy.”
I’ll spare you all the details, but basically there are a lot of costs involved: licensing, STD testing, room rental, etc. It seemed to me very much like a day trip on a recreational fishing boat. There’s the cost of the boat, the fishing license, the taxes, etc. Built into the cost of the day excursion on the boat are all the hidden costs. We had to discover all the overhead ourselves for our sex-tourism jaunt.
Once all that was done, we flew to a remote part of Nevada. Setting up the clientele was easy, given our high-profile web presence. There was no shortage of johns eager for pay-to-play with Lo.
Other than suggesting the idea and knowing what our special vacation was for, Lo had no other insights into the details. She wanted it that way. In order to keep her both figuratively and literally in the dark, I arranged the flight to land at night. We drove through the veiled desert to the remote, rather dilapidated brothel. It looked more like a repurposed old motel. Lo and I found our room and, as she was exhausted, she fell into a deep sleep.
Early the next morning, only a few hours after we had arrived, I woke up to begin preparations for Lo’s stay. As Lo soundly slept in the buff on the king-sized bed, I collected all her clothes – every last garment. I put them in my suitcase and simultaneously unpacked the special outfits I had purchased for her, especially for this occasion. They consisted of thong panties, lace panties, satin bras, elaborate strappy one-piece lingerie, fishnet stockings, and the like. There was not one item of clothing left in the room that she could possibly wear outside. She was trapped by her own undergarments, imprisoned by G-strings and sheer mesh fabric. A fitting metaphor for the Veil of Maya in which we all find ourselves.
I then snuck out of the room with her suitcase. She had no idea, but I had rented the room adjacent to hers. The walls were paper thin, allowing me to be a clandestine interloper in her affairs. About nine that morning I got a text from Lo: “Where are you?”
“I had to go out. Your first appointment is at noon. Enjoy.”
“Out? Where to?”
“Running some errands for your vacation. His name is Peter. Call me if you need anything, I will be close by.”
“Daddy, breakfast,” she wrote, complaining.
“It’s being delivered.”
I had arranged for everything. The room service arrived, finding Lola naked in the hotel room. I suppose that sort of thing was not unusual, given the purpose of the establishment.
I returned to my adjacent room around ten after getting some greasy grits for myself and I heard Lo in her room. It sounded like she was showering and then masturbating. Then, repeat. I texted her, “Turn on the TV.”
I had arranged that I could cast from my computer to her TV. I put on one of her favorite shows: Playboy’s “Swing.”
“Oh, Daddy!” she texted back.
I could hear the muted sounds of the TV from her room.
Around noon her first customer, I mean john, that is to say, Peter came.
And boy did he cum!
I heard muted voices. Then I heard Lo saying, “Fill me! Fuck me! Stretch me! Cum in me!” That last bit was screamed so that it was exquisitely distinct through the wall.
I heard her repeating at the top of her lungs, as if an incantation or mantra: “I love cock! I love cock! I love cock! I love cock!!!”
There were a few moments of quiet and then I heard the door close. A few moments later Lo texted me, “First done and gone.”
“How was it.”
“Well, it’s only 12:20, so, I’d say pretty quick. When’s my next appointment?”
“Not until 1:00.”
“Can you come here, Daddy?”
“No, Lo. I’m out. Running errands.”
She sent a sad-face emoji.
I heard her fire up her Hitachi Magic Wand (which I had strategically left for her to find).
Screams. Silence. Screams.
A knock at the door.
John #2.
This time there was a lot of talk, but no climax. No yelling or screaming.
At exactly two o’clock I heard the door close.
“Two down,” texted Lo.
“How was it?”
“He just wanted me to stroke his cock while I looked into his eyes and talked to him.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Anything that came to mind. He just wanted me to talk. I tried to make sexy talk, but he preferred that I just say anything. I basically told him the history of Elizabethan Theater and the history of Shakespeare plays. That made him very hard and horny.”
“You’re kidding,” I texted back.
“Gotta go! Next customer.”
I heard the knock at the door even before she texted me.
This time she was loud and proud.
After a little less than an hour, I heard the door close.
“So many kinks,” she texted.
“What do you mean?”
“This one just wanted me to masturbate the entire time. You have no idea how tingly my pussy lips are. I had the Hitachi – thanks Daddy! – on my cunt for almost an hour!”
There was another knock at the door.
“Don’t I get a lunch break?!” she texted.
“No rest for the randy,” I texted back.
This time I heard what sounded like her being thrown against the wall in a rhythmic pattern. I was worried. I watched my phone like a hawk. I thought the two of them were going to pound right through the thin wall into my room.
After about twenty or thirty minutes of the constant banging, I heard nothing at all.
Ten minutes later I heard a man’s voice yelling, “Whore! Cunt! Fucking Slut!”
A few minutes later I heard the distinct purr of Lola.
Then the door shut again.
“Are you ok?” I texted her immediately. I was so concerned.
“Divine,” she wrote back.
“Please explain,” I responded, dryly.
“He was rough and violent and he said so many derogatory things to me. . . I loved it!”
“Really?”
There was another knock at the door.
This time, after a while of no sounds, or at least none that I could hear, I detected Lo’s quiet voice saying, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Then it stopped.
At ten to five, I got a text: “I’m starving, Daddy.”
I was too enraged and jealous – yes, jealous! – to respond.
At five sharp, there was another knock at the door.
This time I heard nearly nothing except the loud groan of a man’s voice.
At five-thirty the door shut.
“Well, at least I got a snack,” texted Lo.
“Ready for dinner?” I asked.
“I’m always ready, and hungry, and horny.”
I knocked at her door, even though I had the key. I was curious as to her reaction and I also thought it would be an ironic joke.
She answered the door the way I imagine she answered it for all the six other guys who had preceded me: wearing a black negligée that barely covered her ass and pussy. Nothing else. Her tits were practically falling out of it.
Lo, Dressed for Success
“You’re a welcome surprise,” she said. “I actually thought you had booked me straight through to midnight!”
“Would you like that?”
“I’m a hard worker and I work best when my customers are hard.”
“Well, good news – you and I are going to grab dinner together.”
“First, where? Second, I have no clothes, remember?”
I handed her a sleek black dress. She had panties and bras and high heels in the room already.
She put on the heels, not the bra or panties. She looked dressed more as if in a negligée than a party dress. Her nipples were visible through the thin, shiny material.
She looked good – dirty, dissolute, disheveled, devilish, and desirable.
“Don’t you want me, Daddy?” she asked as she hiked up her dress and spread her pussy lips to show me the cum dripping out. Whose cum? Could have been anyone’s.
“Later, Lo,” I said. “We’ve got reservations.” I almost chuckled to myself as I said it.
“Really?!” she asked, excited as if we were still in our metropolis and able to pick from a few hundred eating establishments.
We walked out into the cool, dry Nevada night.
“No car?” she asked as we walked in the dirt across the parking lot.
“Here we are,” I said after about fifty feet, when we got to the door of the dive bar and restaurant across from the brothel.
“Here?!” she moped.
“Lo, there ain’t another Michelin rated restaurant for at least a hundred miles from here.”
“I don’t need Michelin rated, but I do need edible.”
“Relax, this place is fine.”
“We walked in like two invitees to the Emmy’s, only to find a juke box greeted us, followed by a long, worn wooden bar, and tables with plastic picnic-table cloths covering them, pitchers of Miller Light upon them, and people wearing cowboy hats unironically dancing.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asked as all the male eyes in the place magnetically rested upon her sweet, antipodinal angelic aura.
“Couldn’t be any more serious,” I said as the kind hostess showed us to our picnic-table.
We ordered the less-than-mediocre meal and a pitcher of their finest Miller beer.
“Daddy,” Lo inquired, “do I have a busy day tomorrow?”
“All booked up – ten to six.”
“I don’t know if I can handle it,” she said, almost admitting defeat.
“I believe in you, Lo. Did you not enjoy today?”
She was quiet for a few seconds. Pensive. “I enjoyed it well enough.”
“What’s that mean – ‘well enough’?”
“I was hoping to get fucked like a broken screen door in a hurricane. But only one guy was like that. Don’t get me wrong,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “that was wonderful, but the other guys – they were kinda weird, you know?”
“What do you mean?”
The meal came and Lo started eating like she hadn’t seen food in a week, even though the food was far below her standards.
She never completed her thought.
“I have something special planned for you tomorrow,” I said.
Her eyes lit up. “Tell me!” She can’t stand a surprise.
“Nope. You’ll find out tomorrow.”
We finished our meal and ordered another pitcher of beer. We weren’t driving, so, why not?
After downing two pitchers, we felt oddly attracted to the silly country dancing that we had observed among a few of the regulars. We joined in. Lo’s black, strappy heels were a comical contrast to the other women’s cowboy boots. Lo’s sleek black dress also looked out of place among the other women in their jeans or denim shorts and plaid, button-down shirts. But the biggest contrast was that the other women were all at least ten years older and heavier than Lo, by far. They were like ranch hands. It was clear that they were all married and moms. Though the brothel shared a parking lot with this restaurant, it seemed as if the other prostitutes all went home to their husbands and families at the end of their shifts, or they went somewhere else, but they certainly were not grabbing dinner here. I’m not saying any of that in a disparaging way, just pointing out the ways in which Lo stood out like a rosebush among the cacti.
And I wasn’t the only one to notice the difference. The men in the place looked over their wives’ shoulders as they danced with them, staring at Lo. The wives, for their part, gave Lo the meanest of looks, judging her and silently despising her. They knew where she had been all day and where she’d be all night. These good Christian women, with God, guns, and glory on their side, stood in judgment of Lo’s heretical goddess, gams, and gloryhole.
Perhaps mistakenly, we ordered another pitcher of beer to quench the thirst we developed while dancing. Soon Lo was dancing in the arms of many of the different men at the bar, letting them feel her nipples over the sheer material of the dress, slide their hands down over the curve of her rear, and partially up her thigh. I could tell Lo had a long day and was getting too tipsy to tear up the dance floor and so I politely cut in and escorted her back to her room where she had worked the day as an escort.
Samantha Massie reading Match, Cinder & Spark
Country Girls with Samantha Massie
Reverse View of Samantha Massie and friends
Samantha Massie and her besties
Samantha Massie and friends
One more of Samantha Massie’s behind
Back in the room, Lo quickly slipped out of her dress and into a slip, pulled out her Hitachi and her phone and began going at it on the couch as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth. By the time I returned to where she had been stimulating her stretched and sore pussy, I found her, motor of the Hitachi still vibrating, her phone still open to the photos she was using to get off – pics of her friend Samantha Massie and her crew of country MILFs. I had been in the bathroom for maybe three, four minutes max! But by the time I came to the couch beside the bed – the same bed upon which she had prostituted her body – she was sound asleep with her breasts hanging out of her slip.
Lo, Sleeping with her Best Friend
The next morning I woke up early. I snuck out with her dress.
“Daddy, where are you?” she texted.
“Errands,” I responded.
“What could you possibly have to do?”
“I guess not you.”
“What?”
“You fell asleep on me last night, leaving me hard up.”
“Sorry.”
“Should I find a prostitute?”
“Don’t you dare!”
“Can you fit me into your busy schedule?”
“I’m very flexible – I could probably fit you and a couple more guys in.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Time to find out how much more of this I can take. Where’s my breakfast?”
“It should be there any minute now.”
“Well, my john is here now.”
There was another knock at the door.
“Oh, never mind. Breakfast arrived,” she texted.
About twenty minutes and a few howls later, I heard the door close.
“How’s breakfast?” I asked.
“He fucked me as I ate it. He said it was a real turn-on for him.”
“Full, or still hungry?” I texted back.
“I can always take a little more,” she wrote.
I heard the bath running.
I heard a knock at the door.
I heard Lo open it and talk to the customer.
About twenty minutes later I received a text. “He jacked off to me as I took a bath. That was easy!”
There was another knock.
Lo texted, “Daddy, they’re arriving every half hour.”
“That’s your surprise. Today is economy class. They only paid for thirty minutes. Later they will be arriving every fifteen minutes.”
“What?!” She included a number of emojis to demonstrate her displeasure with that.
There were three more visitors to her room before lunch.
“Will you join me for lunch?” she texted.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
I knocked at the door. She opened it wearing only a transparent and skimpy negligée through which I could see everything.
Lo, Falling Out
“You said you could fit me in.”
“That was before you told me my schedule. I’m full up.”
“I hope not. You have ten more appointments today.”
“Ten?!”
I finally walked in the door. Lunch was delivered. A sandwich, fries, and a lemonade. I watched her eat as I observed the room. It was a mess. The bed was a mess and looked well-used. Various undergarments were strewn around the room. Used condoms were hanging over the side of the trashcan and were in it as well.
“How’s work?” I inquired.
She spread her legs for me to see the commingled cum of various men dribble out of her.
“It’s a complicated business,” she said in between bites, “a lotta ins, a lotta outs. You know.”
“I’m sure you can figure it out.”
“Everything tastes like cum,” she said as she put down her sandwich and took a sip of her drink.
“Your favorite flavor.”
“Do I have cum in my hair?” she asked.
I looked. “A little.”
“The last guy was all about cumming on my face.”
“Bad aim?”
“No. For the most part, he hit the target.”
“Any other standout performances?”
“One of the guys, I forget which one, wanted to use my ass.”
She knows exactly how jealous that makes me.
“Did you let him.”
“He paid for hit, didn’t he?”
“I suppose.”
“He went ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-pussy, ass-mouth.”
“Covered all the bases.”
“Then he repeated it.”
“All in a half-hour’s time?”
“He made the rounds quickly.”
“Where did he finally arrive?”
“Ass, then mouth.”
“Well, you’ll have to speed up the spin cycle because all the rest of today’s engagements are only a quarter-hour.”
“Don’t you worry. Just as I can make you cum in under five minutes, I will give each of them their money’s worth.”
“Your talent never ceases to amaze me!”
I left and returned to my post. As I was outside, I saw the next customer pull up. A middle-aged man with a wedding band on his left ring finger.
I slipped in the door to my hotel room as he knocked on Lola’s door.
Soon I could hear him knocking on Lola’s back door too!
He was gone quickly.
A new customer came in and exited in under fifteen minutes. Lola texted me, “I had to pee when the last one arrived. I told him so. He asked to watch. He stroked it as I was on the toilet and then came on my face as I continued sitting, fingering my clit in front of him. It was hot!”
Cleanup
Ready!
Another customer. Lo texted me after that this one had a foot fetish and came on her toes.
There were many more before her last appointment for the night. The last one had paid for two hours and had a very particular fetish. It was a husband and wife and they wanted Lo to dress up as a bride in white lingerie: mesh lace pushup bra, matching thong panties, harness suspender belt connected to white garters and of course a tiara with flowing lace veil. I had packed all this for Lola with a note on it that said, “Finale.” Now she understood what I meant by that.
They were into roleplay. The husband and wife team told Lo that the scenario is that they are her parents on her wedding night and they are going to teach her how it’s done.
“You want to be sexy for your groom,” she said to Lo.
“OK, Mom, tell me how,” replied Lo.
“I’ll show you instead,” she said as she got naked and bent over the bed. “Put your ass in the air like this.”
Lo stood next to her as if her magic mirror. Gazing into the looking glass, the older woman beheld the younger.
Her husband approached her from behind and mounted her.
“Make sure you’re good and wet,” she instructed.
“Oh, Mom, I’m always wet.”
“He’ll enter you like so,” she said as she moaned.
“Is he big?” asked Lo.
“Try for yourself,” she said.
“Lola, spread your pussy for me,” he said to her.
Lola did as told, very dutifully.
He entered her.
“That’s it, honey,” said her ersatz mother as she grabbed Lo’s ass cheeks and spread them for her husband to penetrate her. Then she got in front of Lo and began smacking at Lo’s tits as they hung down and undulated forward with each thrust from behind.
“Mom,” said Lo, “that hurts!”
“Does it?” she asked, pausing from pawing Lo’s breasts.
“I didn’t say stop,” said Lo.
The wife resumed slapping Lo’s tits, gently at first but gradually with more force as her husband also grew more forceful from behind.
“I think you have done this before,” said the wife.
“Once or twice. Why? Am I good at it?”
“So good,” said the husband.
“Are you going to cum?” asked his wife.
“Fuck, yes! I am.”
“Cum on my tits!” said his wife. “And let me taste you after,” she added, opening her mouth wide.
He pulled out of Lo and came right on his wife’s breasts as she held them together tightly. Then he put his cock in her mouth for her to taste Lo’s juices.
“Lick me clean,” she instructed Lo.
Lo didn’t need to be told twice.
“That’s it. You’ll make a good wife to your groom. But, darling, I’m going to have to instruct him how to properly fuck you. You don’t mind, do you?” asked the older woman.
“No, Mom. He’s been hoping to be schooled by you.”
“Good. I hope he’s longer and thicker than your father over there,” she said, nodding at the sated man in the chair.
“He is, by far!”
The couple eventually cleaned up and left, each of them kissing Lo goodbye first.
I then returned to my love and got the full story from her as she made passionate love to me, calling out numerous times, “Daddy, am I a bad girl? Am I a slut? Am I a proper, passionate, pliable little prostitute?”
“Yes, dear,” I said, “you’re a good whore, but more than anything else, you’re my whore.”
She liked that. She liked that very much.
On the plane home, Lo turned to me and whispered, “Thank you Daddy, that was the most wonderful birthday present ever.”
“Birthday present? – it was your Valentine’s Day gift.”
“So I still have a birthday present coming to me?”
“You sure do!”
Her eyes lit up. “When we get back?”
“If you’re a good girl,” I said, patronizingly.
She held my hand. There was a silence during which I knew exactly what she was thinking.
Three, two. . .
“What is it?” she asked, right on queue.
“That would spoil the surprise.”
“But Daddy, I can’t wait. Give me a hint.”
“No hints.”
She looked disappointed and then put her finger to her lips and furrowing her brow as if she were in deep thought.
“Now Lola,” I said, “if you do that, you’ll give yourself wrinkles prematurely.”
She looked at me, surprised.
“Do you think I’m getting wrinkles?” she asked in a panic, putting her hands to her forehead to smooth her skin.
“No,” I laughed, “no I don’t.”
“When do you think I’ll get wrinkles? Do you think I’ll go grey? You think my boobs will sag?”
“You realize, Lo, you’re ageist.”
“Ageist? Me? Impossible. I’m dating you and you’re ancient!”
“You see. There you go again.”
“Oh, come on,” she said.
“Well, thank God you don’t age.”
“No, I don’t, do I?”
“Not a day over twenty-four.”
“But I will be soon,” she said with fright.
“No you won’t.”
“What?”
“How old were you last year?” I asked.
“Twenty-four,” she said as if it were an obvious question.
“And how old did you turn the year before that?”
“Twenty-three. Duh.”
“Nope.”
“What?”
“You turned twenty-four.”
“I think you failed math. Twenty-three comes before twenty-four.”
“How old will you turn this year?”
“Twenty-five.”
“Nope.”
“We are in a plane, but are you high? How ‘nope’?”
“Because, my dear, I am the author of this here story. You have been twenty-four since we started this account of our sex lives together.”
She looked at me like I was crazy.
“OK,” I said, “how old am I?”
“That’s easy,” she said, looking a little nervous.
“Then tell me.”
“You’re fifty-something.”
“Fifty what?”
“Fifty-er-uh-something.”
“I had a birthday last year. Remember?”
“Of course I do! I got you a private stripper. Do you remember?”
“Yes,” I said, dreamily.
She teasingly punched me, “Hey, I’m over here,” she said.
“And how old did I turn last year?”
“Fifty. . . one?”
“Nope.”
“Two?”
“Nope.”
“How old?”
“Fifty-something, exactly.”
“That’s silly.”
“I have always been fifty-something and you have always been twenty-four. I will always be fifty-something and you will forever remain twenty-four.”
“Forever?”
I nodded affirmatively. “Forever.”
She thought about it for a while before finally asking, “But I still get a birthday present?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then I’m ok with that.”
Lo Exhausted
Consolation Prize
[Continued from Wing-Woman Wardrobe]
“What bar are you going to?” I asked Lo about her date with Jeremy. To clarify, she was going to be his “wing-woman,” helping him to find a suitable companion in the aftermath of his recent divorce.
“What’s it to you?” she asked, indignantly as she sat in front of the mirror, nude, putting on her eyeliner.
“Well, you don’t have to be rude about it. Am I being invasive if I would like to know where the love of my life is taking one of my good friends for drinks and to hook-up?”
“To be clear, yet again, I’m not the one who will be hooking-up with Jeremy.”
“Yes, I know that, but after your little performance trying to convince him to let you be his wing-woman, I have my doubts about whom Jeremy will be going home with tonight. I imagine you won’t let him go home alone.”
“Not if I can help it.”
“So, where are you going with him?”
“I don’t think I’ll tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll probably show up there and spy on us all night.”
“Am I really that transparent?”
“Mr. Cellophane.”
“So what? I’ll stay out of sight.”
“No you won’t.”
“I will. Promise. Please.”
“Fine, but only because I get turned on by you seeing me in action.”
“And I get turned on by seeing you in action.”
“I know that. That’s what turns me on.”
“Glad we clarified that. So, where are you taking him?”
Lola told me the name of a trendy club downtown.
“You’re not actually taking him there, are you?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“It’s so loud with that house music and the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.”
“You’re just old.”
“How can anyone talk with that blaring?”
“Darling, they don’t have to talk. They’re interested in the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM,” she said as she got up and pretended to be fucking me, slamming her hips into my ass with each “boom.”
“Suit yourself, but I know Jeremy won’t like it.”
We discussed it some more and agreed upon a less loud bar that we’d been to before.
Lo dolled herself up, threw on black lace thong panties, a short black skirt, and a transparent white blouse. She wore some sparkly costume jewelry and cute heels. I wished I was the one going out with her, but realized that I’ll have just as good a time watching her from a distance.
Lo Getting Ready for her Date
The doorbell rang and Jeremy was nervously waiting at the door like a kid picking up his prom date.
I let him in.
“All set for your debut?”
“You can joke, but this is nerve wracking.”
“Come on in. Have a drink or two and calm yourself down. Lola’s just finishing up.”
Jeremy came into the living room and I asked him what stiff drink he’d like. Whiskey, one ice cube. Easy enough for any bartender.
As I was pouring my 13-year-old scotch, Lola’s resounding voice could be heard billowing from the bedroom. She was at it again. It’s one of her favorite parlor tricks for our guests.
I walked into the living room with two drinks in hand. As I passed Jeremy his, he looked up at me with a grave face of concern. “Is she ok?” he asked.
“Lola?” I replied with a calming smile. “Yeah, she’s fine. She’s just getting the lead out.”
“She’s what?”
“Taking care of business.”
He was still perplexed.
“She’s masturbating until she’s silly,” I finally blurted out.
“Come on,” he replied in disbelief.
“Go see for yourself. I’m sure she’d like that.”
Her howls were still the background to our conversation. But they were taking shape now into her usual masturbatory mantra of “Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”
“And that should about do it,” I said to Jeremy. “She’ll be out presently.”
About forty-five seconds later a flush Lola emerged into the living room, kissing Jeremy on the cheek.
“Hi, Lola,” he said rather embarrassed.
“Mind if I join you boys?” she asked, fixing herself a flute of champagne.
She sat in a chair next to Jeremy and very daintily placed one leg over the other as she drank. I could see Jeremy admiring her sexy gams. I wondered to myself if she crossed her legs because she was afraid she’d squirt if she didn’t.
We made some small talk until they both finished their drinks and then Lo gave me a little peck on the cheek and said, “Be good,” to me.
“Well, that’s no fun.”
She whispered, “And stay out of sight.”
That was her permission for me to show up at the bar to see her performance.
“Good luck,” I said to Jeremy.
“He won’t need luck,” interjected Lo, “He’s got me.”
I saw them get into his car and take off.
I quickly got myself dressed appropriately for a night out and sped off myself.
I heard from Lo after the fact that, on the way to the club, the following conversation took place:
Lola: You want me to jack you off?
Jeremy: What?
Lola: Jack you off. You’re a bundle of nerves right now. You need to relax.
Jeremy: Here, in the car, while I’m driving?
Lola: Yeah. You never had road-head before?
Jeremy: Road-head?
Lola: Yeah, pull out your cock and I’ll blow you.
Jeremy: I think I’d crash.
Lola: Keep your eyes on the road.
Jeremy: I’ll pass. It might make a mess.
Lola: Suit yourself.
Jeremy: Can I ask you a personal question?
Lola: Anything. I love personal questions.
Jeremy: HH said that you were, uh, masturbating back at the house.
Lola: Yeah.
Jeremy: Is that true?
Lola: I wasn’t singing in the shower. Didn’t your ex masturbate?
Jeremy: Not that I know of.
Lola: Oh honey, no wonder she ran off with the plumber.
Jeremy: What do you mean by that?
Lola: She was so repressed. She needed someone to unclog her pipe, if you know what I mean.
Jeremy: We had some regular sex.
Lola: Regular is boring. Rough, ram-rod, raw-dog is what she needs. Did she ever climax?
Jeremy: I don’t know.
Lola: Then that’s a no.
Jeremy: I grew up in a different era.
Lola: But women needed then what they need now. Promise me that if you start dating again, you’ll come to me.
Jeremy: Come to you?
Lola: Yeah, for advice.
Jeremy: Oh.
Lola: What did you think I meant?
Jeremy: Nothing.
Lola: You thought I meant ‘cum to me,’ didn’t you?
Jeremy: Well, is that what you meant?
Lola: I wouldn’t be offended.
Road Head
They got to the bar. Jeremy was hard under his pressed khaki pants. Lola had teased him so. But that was quickly replaced by nervousness and fear. He hadn’t done something like this in over twenty years. This wasn’t one of those super-trendy bars with the red velvet rope, the long line outside, the bouncer turning anyone away whom he thought didn’t add cache to the joint. No, this was a regular bar in a desirable neighborhood that had a commanding view of our city. The drinks weren’t cheap and the food was served on small plates. The clientele had to be of a certain economic strata in order to afford it. And that was Lola’s fatal flaw in her design for this evening. Instead of taking Jeremy to some dive joint popular with the college age crowd, she took him to something that she knew would be upscale. But, as a result, it meant that the only single women in the place were in their forties. Maybe there were a few in their thirties. But all the twenty-something women were on the arms of older men who could afford to treat their dates to a special evening.
I’m not judging or stereotyping. I’m just describing what I saw. Lo knows that she and I are frequently one of those December/May couples in an establishment like this.
Despite the fact that I had left the house after Jeremy and Lo, I arrived first. My knowledge of the city streets is better than Jeremy’s navigation system. I was inconspicuously hidden in a dark corner at a table for one. I saw Lola confidently enter with Jeremy and I saw as she scanned the room for the optimal place to occupy with him for greatest effect and maximum visibility. They took a spot at the center of the bar. Lo ordered a fancy cocktail and Jeremy ordered a beer. They were talking as if they were colleagues at work. Lo was running her hand through her thick hair, smiling, and gently touching Jeremy’s elbow as she laughed.
At the club
I could see guys at the bar taking note of Lola. More than one of them tried to chat her up, but she shut them down quick.
Jeremy looked stiff as a board, and not in a good way. After a couple more drinks, they both were loosened up a bit. So was the crowd. More people filed into the already cramped bar area and eventually two women who were trying to order drinks near Lo and Jeremy struck up a conversation with them. I couldn’t hear it, of course, but I later got the gist of it from Lola.
It turned out these two women were both in their forties and both newly divorced and trying to break into the dating scene. Lo elicited all the information from them while masterfully directing their attention to Jeremy and attempting to remove herself from the equation by explaining that they are just friends. But Lo overplayed her hand. In order to fully dispel any doubt of her own intentions vis-à-vis Jeremy, Lo said she’s not into guys.
Oh boy, the eyes of the two women lit up! Their conversation became animated. They started regaling Lo with stories about flirting or kissing girls in college, always wanting to try it more, being married and confined by the marriage, and now, ready to explore new possibilities.
The two women were already quite intoxicated when they began talking with Lo and Jeremy. Their inhibitions were down and their arousal at this young, fresh meat high. They complimented and flirted with Lo, leaving Jeremy to watch dumbly.
Lo, for her part, cannot turn away from the attention. And so, after a few paltry attempts to direct their interest toward Jeremy, Lo gave in. Soon she was making out with one and then the other of the women, exchanging numbers, and, eventually, walking out with Jeremy.
On the ride home, Lo felt truly bad for her behavior.
Lola: I’m sorry about that.
Jeremy: About what?
Lola: The two women. We came out for you, not me.
Jeremy: That’s ok. I found it entertaining.
Lola: You like lesbians?
Jeremy: Who doesn’t?
Lola: You jack off to girl-on-girl porn?
Jeremy: [Uncomfortable.] Um, er, I have.
Lola: Are you hard now?
Jeremy: I’m driving.
Lola: I see that. You can drive and be hard.
Jeremy: I’m. . .
Lola: [Feeling his crotch.] Mmmm, you are hard.
Jeremy: There’s something about your voice.
Lola: That everything I say is dirty and depraved?
Jeremy: [Laughing.]
Lola: [Putting her right hand between her legs.] Did you want to see me with those two women?
Jeremy: I wouldn’t have objected.
Lola: Did your wife look at porn?
Jeremy: Ex-wife.
Lola: Did your ex-wife look at porn?
Jeremy: I told you, I don’t think so.
Lola: When you had sex, would she put her finger down on her clit and stroke it?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she pull her pussy lips wide and stretch them out until it hurt?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she curl her index finger up and inside her and finger herself when your cock was filling her up?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she get so fucking wet that she could slide her entire hand inside and grab your cock while you fucked her?
Jeremy: No.
Lola: Would she beg you for another man to fuck her at the same time as you?
Jeremy: Never.
Lola: [Pulling out his dick.] You’re so hard right now. That whole time at the bar must have made you so full-up. Do you have blue-balls?
Jeremy: Uh.
Piss Slut
Just then they pulled up to the house. Again, I was home before they and I pretended that I had never even left. I was sitting on the couch. I saw the car headlights outside. Inside the car, Lola was climaxing. She held Jeremy’s hand as she pressed her knees together tightly. She squeezed Jeremy’s hand so firmly that he cried out. Lo bit her lower lip. When she finally relaxed, she turned to him and said, “I’m sorry for hurting you. I was trying to hold it in.”
“Hold what in?”
“My squirt.”
“Squirt?”
“Yeah. I didn’t want to leave a puddle on your seat.” There was a long pause before Lo, realizing that Jeremy was thinking about leaving, said, “You can stay a while. It’s a two-car garage, if you know what I mean.”
“I think I should go.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just go home.”
“And masturbate?”
Jeremy looked baffled at Lola.
“You can say it,” she coaxed gently.
“I might.”
“Why don’t you let me do it for you,” she said rather than asked. She began to jerk his cock as he was in park. Her mouth was very near to the tip of his cock. She looked up at him. “Do you wish you could have seen those two women hungrily and greedily fondling my naked body? What do you think? They each had two or three kids. What do you think it would be like? Them, with their sagging breasts, jealously pawing at my perky tits. Sucking them. Telling me to suck theirs. One of them holding my ankles up in the air as the other buries her face in my bush. Each of them telling the other to use me, to finger me, to fist me. Maybe they had their own strap-ons and they wanted to take turns fucking me. Maybe one wanted to fuck my cunt as the other fucked my ass. What do you think? How do you think I would like that?”
“I, I, I think you’d love that.”
Lola stroked faster.
“I totally would. I’d like them to put a collar and leash on me and lead me around the house naked like a dog. They could bring me to the bathroom and piss on me – in my hair, on my face, on my tits. They could sit on the side of the tub and masturbate until they squirt on my body. They’d call me their slut, their whore, their bitch. They’d pull at my nipples and spank my ass. One of them would hold my legs back as the other spanked my pussy. They’d punish me for being young and beautiful. They’d take out all their frustration on me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Suddenly there was a massive ejaculation that shot from the tip of Jeremy’s cock to Lola’s face. It wouldn’t stop spurting hot white cum all over her face. It was as if he hadn’t cum for years! Lola loved it! He called out and moaned and pounded the ceiling of his car with his fist.
Finally, when he had calmed down, Lo sat back, her faced covered, her hair covered, her neck covered and dripping down her cleavage, and she said, “The icing on the cake! HH will love this!”
“Oh shit,” said Jeremy, “HH.”
Lo laughed. She repeated, “HH will love this. Don’t worry.”
“You two have one strange relationship.”
“Not so strange. You’ll see. The world has changed a lot since you were single.”
“Well, Lola, thanks for a good night.”
“Sorry I had to be your consolation prize.”
“To be honest, you’re the one I wanted the most.”
“You’re so sweet!” said Lo as she leaned in and kissed Jeremy a long, open mouthed kiss, getting his own warm cum all over him.
“Good night,” she said as she hopped out of the car and walked in to greet me, the evidence of her evening covering her like a pearlescent halo that had melted.
“Hello Lo,” I said as she walked in.
She approached me and kissed me just as she had kissed Jeremy and then she dragged me to the bedroom to fuck her as she recounted for me every detail of the date, asking me, “Daddy, am I a slut? Am I a total whore? Am I bad? Look at me, covered in another man’s cum. Punish me.” And through her mental masochism, she managed to bring herself to orgasm multiple times.
The cum on
Cycle Through the Park
Brooklyn is a great place to go! So many lovely sights to see, especially in the springtime!
Pachu M Torres
Smalltown Strumpet – Flaming Lips
Smalltown Strumpet – Part III: Flaming Lips
Continued From: The Doctor Will See You Now
The Flaming Lips
Lo was out of commission. There would be no sexy suntanning in the front yard, no strip club short-short shenanigans, no teasing the townies down Main Street. She spent much of her time submerged in the clawfoot tub or strutting bottomless around the house, airing out her nettle-enflamed pussy. She had to sit on pillows and masturbating was now out of the question. This put her in a very unpleasant mood.
Though I wished to attend to her, I needed to get out of the house, lest I bear the brunt of her frustration with her cunt.
I had been working on an article about bestiality portrayed in art and literature through the centuries and thought I’d mosey down to the local library to continue my studies.
Lo had taken a couple of Tylenol PM and was resting comfortably when I slipped out with my computer and backpack. I figured I had a couple of hours to myself.
The library was a very small brick building. There were two rooms and a small anteroom at the entrance that contained the check-out desk, a couple of computers, and a display table for new books.
I set up in a small corner of the library, sitting in a large, square, worn brown leather club chair that looked like it was at least as old as I am. It was remarkably comfortable and the arms were flat, so they were perfect for resting my books and computer around me conveniently.
I began by looking at a blog from Remittance Girl on “Defending the Indefensible: Bestiality in Erotica.” It was a great place to start my research. She had written the article in response to censorship of erotica authors by PayPal – an infringement of speech that this very author had suffered by that very company! They should call it PrudePal.
In her article she referenced one of my favorite authors, Neil Gaiman, and his defense of Chris Handley, among others who have been prosecuted for the material they read, write, draw, collect, sell, or possess.
This led me down a rabbit hole into a morass of law, liberty, and lurid content. Thank goodness my chair had its back against the wall because if any local busybody were to see the ‘scholarly studies’ I was researching, there’s no telling what would happen.
Actually, there is a telling what would happen and if you have a moment, I will inform you as to the tempest in a teapot that an oversight by me stirred up in that little hamlet.
I was deep into my investigation of Greek portrayals of bestiality and had about ten different books from the library surrounding my chair when I received a text from Lola. “Where are you, Daddy?”
I guess I won’t be able to start my deep dive into Hokusai and the Japanese tradition of erotic images. I packed up my stuff hastily, leaving behind the library books in their sprawling spread of towers on the armchair.
Perhaps another time I will get back to you with my developed thoughts on the matter.
I drove back to the house where we were staying, to find Lo fully naked and fully submerged in the tub. She looked up at me and said, “I’m wet, and not just because I’m taking a bath.”
“Feeling better?”
“Much,” she said. “But you left me, Daddy!” She pouted.
“I’m sorry Lo, but. . .”
“Shut up and get naked.”
“I’m not going for a swim. There’s only room for one in there.”
“Who said anything about that?” she asked as she put her mouth on the edge of the tub and opened wide. She looked up at me. “Insert your cock. I’ll be your cumdump.”
I did as instructed. She sucked. I fucked (her face). Water splashed around. She contorted in the tub, eventually getting to a position where her legs were going straight up the wall in a “V” formation, her head was tilted back over the opposite side of the tub, and she was squeezing her tits and pulling on her nipples as I fucked her face. With every thrust into her mouth and down her throat, my heavy ball sack was slapping up against her upside-down face, smacking her squarely in the eyes and on the bridge of her nose. She liked it.
Lo, cooling down her flaming lips
Somehow the plug came undone and the water drained out of the tub. Lo moved her hands from her tits to her pussy. She began smacking it hard and then even harder. She slapped her pussy like a mother spanking a very naughty child, with force and anger, until she finally squirted all over the wall of the bathroom. The naughty child crying from the pain, perhaps. Seeing that, I couldn’t control myself any longer and I came directly into Lo’s esophagus. She gagged and nearly puked in the tub from the odd position of the climax.
I was dreading another trip to the hospital!
She jumped out of the tub, coughing and sputtering like she had been tossed at sea. Cum was oozing out of her nostrils and she was struggling to catch her breath. When she finally did, she said something I didn’t quite catch.
“What?” I asked.
“That was awesome,” she repeated.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“This stinging sensation in my pussy lips really makes for an incredible orgasm.”
“You should sit in poison nettles more often.”
“I think I might be able to have sex now, Daddy.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but my pussy is still burning. Do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Grab a tray of ice cubes from the freezer and meet me in the bedroom.”
I did as she asked, wondering how I was going to get hard again in order to give her what she wanted.
I met her in the bedroom and she was lying on her back.
“Take an ice cube and trace it around my labia,” she said.
I gently applied the cold, slippery, dripping ice to her pussy lips. She loved it.
“Slip it in.”
I inserted it.
“Another,” she said.
I did the same thing a second time.
“Again,” she said.
And a third time.
This continued until there were more ice cubes in her pussy than in a tall glass of lemonade.
“Now fuck me.”
At this point, the eroticism of what I had been doing had me rigid. Timidly I inserted the tip of my penis just a bit into her ice-packed pussy.
It felt cold. Freezing, to be exact. But not unpleasant.
“Fuck me!”
She likes to go from zero to balls-deep in under a minute.
I slide my rod all the way into her snow cone. There was a curious mixing of hot and cold and wet, since all the ice cubes were melting pretty rapidly inside her.
We had hardly started to stir her dirty Shirley when she said, “Go get more ice.”
I pulled out, feeling a chill on my thermometer, and got another tray of ice.
I inserted my manhood to her ice bucket and as I fucked her, the friction creating heat and melting her internal coolant, she reached over and took fresh ice cubes and, one-by-one, slipped them into her slit over the shaft of my cock. The tightness, the alternating hot and cold, the slip-sliding of the cubes inside her pussy, was unlike anything I had ever felt.
“Should I put a few in my ass?” she whispered.
I couldn’t answer and before I knew it, she was spreading her ass cheeks with one hand and putting the cubes in with the other.
“Do you want my ass, Daddy?”
I did. I did, so bad.
I pulled out and slid my hot and cold compress into her smaller icebox and within mere seconds I melted her heart with the heat of my love.
I pulled out and all the white, watery liquid spilled out of both holes as she stood up to go to the bathroom. It quickly dribbled down her inner thighs to her feet and puddled on the hardwood floor, leaving a trail from the bedroom to the bathroom. I suddenly heard a loud rattle. Her remaining ice cubes slipped out and crackled on the tile floor.
“Whoops!” I heard her call.
When she returned, she got on her knees beside the bed and looked up at me.
“Did you like that Daddy?”
“Very much, Lo,” I said.
She licked my balls and continued up my cock and then took the tip of my flaccid shaft into her mouth. “Can I be your cock-warmer, Daddy?” she asked before taking the entire length of it in her mouth and resting her head gently on my inner thigh.
[To be continued. . .]
Lo’s cockwarmer
Butt if You Want To – Interview with Siswet
Siswet
I’m old. We’ve established that. Back in my day I knew nothing of kink. I knew almost nothing of sex. My only exposure to the wonderful world of women was a few moldy Playboy and Penthouse magazines I managed to rummage out of my neighbor’s basement when he paid me to clean it out as he and his wife prepared to divorce and they were selling their house. I was a horny thirteen-year-old and I had no idea the fringe benefits I would reap from earning some extra cash. Back then those magazines didn’t show intercourse, penetration, or even a minor blemish. They were basically slightly more revealing than a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. Every woman was a model, but back then they sported a full bush.
Cheryl Bachman in Playboy
Cheryl Bachman bush from behind
It wasn’t until much later in my life that I learned that women are turned on by more than posing on a tennis court in white miniskirts, showing their round rumps. I still vividly remember watching a VCR porno in which the star took a cock anally. It wasn’t one of the high-production pornos. Those are like fine wines with lots of overtones and colors. This video was like a well liquor intended to be banged out quick and pack a wallop. It starred, ironically enough, Lola, as in Lola Vargas, a.k.a. Lola Martin. As I recall, this sexy brunette was with two guys, one of whom entered her anally. When I saw that, if there was any doubt that this was a low-budget, far from mainstream film, then it was confirmed because, you see, back then anal wasn’t a thing. Or at least it wasn’t a thing in any self-respecting, easily accessible porn. It was only something you could find on the fringe, in the cheap discount VHS bin, which was where I shopped in the seedy XXX stores.
Cheryl Bachman front view
Lola before Lola
Lola Vargas/Martin
Cheryl Bachman showing her bush
Today there is an abundance of such sort of porn. Joanna Tulsa in her MidwestFreaks film only added a bit of golden shower to the mix, but other than that, she reminds me a lot of dear Lola, Lola Vargas/Marin that is. Apparently I really do have a type.
Joanna Tulsa True Freak takes a golden shower
Lola Vargas/Martin
Back then, long before I met my Lola, my eyes nearly popped out of my skull when I saw a man penetrate a woman’s asshole. I was like, “Women can do that?!”
So, dear reader, you can imagine my complete shock and awe when I saw my Lola, Lola Down, sneak into the communal men’s showers at the Buddhist monastery in Japan and saw her as she leaned up against the white tiled wall, on tiptoes, her ass up and out, protruding toward the group of us horny, naked guys, and reach around, lathering up her bare butt-cheeks, squeezing her fingers between her buns, and then as she spread her ass wide for us all to see clearly, she circled her special spot in clockwise motions with two fingers before inserting a single finger up her ass to our stunned amazement. She fingered herself seductively as the steamy shower ran down her back, her thighs, her calves, her feet.
My Lola, Lola Down, fingering down there
Dear reader, you can imagine my confusion when Lo first requested to be penetrated from behind by me and then demanded that I alternate from ass-to-puss and finally nearly leaped from my rigid rod in order to pirouette in the air and land on her knees so that she might take my cock in her mouth lest any of my precious seed spill on the floor. A-to-V, A-to-M, A-to-V-to-A-to-M? Really? There are women who do that? I had no idea.
“Did you like fucking my ass, Daddy?”
And finally, dear reader, you can imagine my jealous excitement as I saw Lo repeat this same exact sequence of orifice reception on other men.
But I digress yet again.
Like much else, the genre of anal porn has evolved (or devolved) a lot since the days of my youth. Today you’re all spoiled. (I sound like such a crank!) As much as I was perplexed by this intriguing form of intercourse, today mere penetration of the ass has become passé. No, today, there are: extreme anal insertions; anal fisting; anal gape; anal double and even triple penetration!
Arguably, the reigning queen of this genre of porn is Siswet. Who else can walk into her apartment building nonchalantly with her arm up her own asshole all the way to her elbow? This deceptively petite blonde with an even more deceptively petite rear star has mastered the art of all things ass. And Lola was lucky enough to get an interview with her. Stay tuned for her intimate conversation with the legendary Siswet!
Siswet opens up to Lola
The Female Gaze
Lo at the Beach
It was a hot July day. The entire week was heavy with humidity. Lo, working from home, without any AC, had to, just had to, work in either only her panties and a bra or nothing at all. It made for very interesting Zoom calls.
Finally the weekend was here and we were going to get out of the sticky stale air of the city and cool off at the beach.
As usual, we got a late start due to Lo cycling through all of her various bikini tops and bottoms to find just the perfect match.
I loaded up the cooler, full of ice, beer, and snacks into the car.
I packed away the folding chairs.
I took nearly as much time picking just the right reading material as Lo took choosing her outfit.
But we were on the road by ten.
The beach is about an hour’s drive from our apartment, but when we got there, the parking lot was already overflowing. No more cars allowed. The line was a half mile long to get in.
We pulled up on the side of the road and just looked at the scene before us. Refreshing blue water on the horizon only a few hundred yards away. A yellow strip of soft sand filled with weekenders like ourselves. A narrow boardwalk. Then the steamy blacktop creating a wavelike transparent curtain between us, waiting and baking in the near noonday sun, and the inviting scene.
As we waited there, perspiring, at a loss for what to do, two young women in bikinis and thongs showing a lot of cheek walked past us.
“Don’t look!” commanded Lo.
How was I to avoid the sight. They were directly in front of where we were parked (illegally) and not going anywhere.
“Just don’t look,” she said.
The two women were at a watering stand where they washed the sand from their feet and sandals. They splashed about cheerfully. As I did my best to avoid looking at them, Lo reached down under her bikini bottom and began flicking the bean.
“Lo, what are you doing?”
Book Review
“You can’t look, but I can.”
“Look all you want, but. . .”
“What? I’m not allowed to touch? You can look at me if you must look somewhere.”
That I did. I watched her watching the near naked nymphettes through the frame of the windshield.
Though Lo is significantly younger than I, she’s old enough to regard those two girls splashing around as mere “nymphettes,” as Vladimir would say. Yet she’s also still young enough herself to make the thirty-something year old moms jealous.
I was sweating, even with all the windows down. Lo, too, was perspiring. I could see the beads of perspiration collecting between her breasts. They grew into large dew drops and then collected together into a stream that ran down, under her bikini top, over her tum, and to the pool between her legs where her right hand was rapidly racing to the finish line.
“Hurry up, Lo, it’s hot,” I said.
“Shhhhhh,” she angrily responded.
I furtively looked up to see what the girls were doing. They were still splashing in the water. Minutes seemed like hours.
Lo’s hair was matting down with perspiration. Her brow was dripping. Her fingers still rapid-fire stroking.
I could see, as I looked at Lo in the passenger seat, two young men walking our way on the dirt path beside the road.
“Lo,” I said.
“I’m almost there.”
“Lo,” I repeated a little more urgently.
“I know, you’re hot, but just give me. . .” She was fixated on the vignette of vaginas dancing in the cool water.
Lo playing
“Lo!”
Too late, the boys were at her window.
“Um, excuse me, but you can’t park here,” one of them said. They were lifeguards and had the unfortunate job of patrolling the area.
As he gently spoke, Lo was startled and screamed, “WHAT?!” Her hand was still down her bikini bottom, grasping her hooch rather than stroking it now.
“I’m sorry,” said the young man, almost putting his head in the window, “but we can’t let you park here.”
Lo looked up at him. He was young, handsome, and fit. His partner’s crotch in the Speedo bathing suit was right at the same level as Lo’s face and she had a full-frontal view of his bulge.
Her fantasy, or whatever was happening in her head, had to make an abrupt change of course from the two girls to the two boys. If there were a soundtrack to our scenario, then you would hear the scratch of the needle as the music did a 180 from “Girl Crush” to Janet Jackson’s “All for You.”
Lo was simultaneously embarrassed and excited. It was one of the few times she didn’t have any words for the occasion. She just looked up, slack-jawed, panting in the heat.
Seeing the predicament unfold before me like a car wreck in slow motion, I took the initiative and leaned over and said, “She’s just getting off.”
“What?” asked the young man.
“I said, I’m just letting her off. She’s hopping out now as I go park the car in town. Right Lo?”
She looked at me. She didn’t want to stop diddling, but she had no choice. She pulled her hand out of her bikini bottom and smiled at the boys. “Right,” she said.
“Don’t forget your phone, your towel, and your sunscreen,” I said as she got out of the car.
“Oh, that’s ok,” said one of the two fellas by the car, giving permission for something that was going to happen anyway.
Lo slowly got out of the car. She opened up the rear passenger door to get the stuff and bent over to get it. The bottom half of her body was outside the car, the top inside. She looked at me and whispered, “I’m squirting!”
“Lucky boys,” I said.
She stood, frozen for a moment in the heat. I could see her chest getting flush, as were her cheeks. Probably her ass cheeks too.
She grabbed a few items and said, “Don’t be long.”
“Long and hard, Lo, I’ll be long and hard. I’ll see you later Ms. Soggy Bottom”
She got out of the car and walked across the street. I watched her, as did the boys. I could see her bikini bottoms were soaked. She got to the fountain where the girls had been and refreshed herself in it. The girls had since walked away.
Forty-five minutes later, drenched in sweat, exhausted, I returned by foot to the beach after driving over a mile away to find a legal parking spot.
I found Lo on the beach, lying out. “Hey Daddio,” she said to me, happy to see me, but with another request at the ready, “It’s pretty warm out here and I’m getting hungry. Do you think we could get some lunch?”
I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was going to pass out right there.
“Do you mind if I take a quick dip to cool off?” I asked, not about to wait for her reply.
I removed my shirt as she said, “If you must.” She was only partly joking.
The water revived me, but it felt so good that I could have stayed in all day.
“I’ll wait here. Call me when you get close,” she said as I began my walk to pick up the car. “Don’t be long!”
“Long and soft, long and soft,” I thought, as I grumbled walking away.
Thirty minutes later, I picked her up and we went to our favorite restaurant on the water. It has a roof deck bar.
Once we were seated and had ordered drinks, I asked Lo how her time on the beach (without me) was.
“It was ok. A lot of voyeurs.”
“You’re one to talk.”
“It’s different with me.”
“How exactly?”
“The female gaze.”
“The female gaze is no different from the male gaze, especially if the female who is gazing at other females is simultaneously fapping off in public to the sight. If I were to do that, I would have been arrested!”
“No, you’d be dead first because I would have killed you.”
“Yet you get away with it.”
“Exactly. Now you’re catching on. The female gaze, it’s just different from the male gaze.”
“Only because society treats it differently.”
“Well, there must be a reason for that.”
“There is. It’s called patriarchy. The laws are made, enforced, and interpreted by men. And men are perverts who find the thought of a woman flicking her bean fascinating and the thought of a man stroking his cock criminal.”
“There you have it.”
“So you’re buying into the patriarchy?”
“No. Never. I’m contributing to its eventual demise by exposing its internal contradictions.”
“You’re exposing something,” I said just as our waiter brought out our cool, tall drinks.
“Anyhow,” said Lo after a long sip, “the voyeurs were laser focused on me.”
“I bet you had to beat them off with a stick!”
“I like that idea,” she said, daydreaming, “but no. They all maintained a proper social distance.”
“Did you see the two guys who interrupted you?”
“No, I didn’t. Maybe they saw me, but I didn’t notice them.”
“You liked that, didn’t you?”
“What, Daddy?” she asked with a faux innocence.
“Getting caught.”
“No, I was right on the edge!”
“I know. And getting caught put you over the edge.”
“Well, I have the opposite problem from a lot of men.”
“How so?”
“I hear that men who masturbate too much. . .”
“What’s too much?” I interrupted her. “This should be good coming from you.”
“Well, very frequently, let’s say. Those men find it increasingly more difficult to climax. But with me, the more I do it, the easier I cum. It’s becoming a problem.”
“How so?”
“Remember the time in the gym?”
I did. She had had an accidental squirting orgasm while working out. “Has that happened again?”
“Not exactly, but it doesn’t take much. It’s like I’m becoming incontinent. Just walking down the street could result in a downpour. A hairpin trigger. And I’m not sure how to prevent it. What do you think?”
“Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“No, Depends, the adult diaper. That’s what I think.”
“Oh, Daddy. Don’t be silly.”
“I’m the silly one? Maybe you should stop your self-pleasure.”
“Don’t be absurd!”
“Then I have no solution for you. Carry a bottle of water everywhere you go just in case. You can always say you spilled.”
Our lunch was brought out and I continued the conversation, “Do you think you could make yourself accidentally squirt right now?”
“What about ‘accidental’ don’t you understand? It’s involuntary. If I try to do it, it’s not an accident. But, just so you know, if I wanted to, I certainly could cum and squirt right now. And I’m not talking some Meg Ryan fake orgasm. I’m talking gushing waterfalls from between my legs onto the wood floor beneath my chair.”
“Do it,” I dared her.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I don’t want to. I have agency, you know.”
“I thought that accidental squirting orgasms removed your agency.”
“Only in that one respect.”
“Well, I give you all due respect.”
“As you should.”
We ate our lunch and then, having properly patronized the restaurant and taking the receipt as proof, I chose to leave the car in the parking lot as Lo and I returned to the adjacent beach. I carried all the chairs, towels, and drinks. She walked like a goddess before me.
As we were walking to a secluded section of the strand, we happened across one of the lifeguards walking in front of us. He was, like most lifeguards, in very good shape. His bathing suit was nonchalantly drooping down, revealing a bit of his untanned rear.
“Mmmmmm,” Lo purred, audibly enough for me to hear her.
“Go after him, if that’s what you want,” I said.
“Oh Daddy,” she cried, putting her arm around me and squeezing my ass, “you’re the only one who gets my engine revving.”
“Really? I couldn’t get you to turn over this morning.”
“Well, my engine doesn’t start before eight.”
“Half the day is gone by then.”
We continued walking toward the cool shore and we passed four young women, two of whom were, as Lo loves to say, ‘stick-skinny-blondes.’ She has always and continues to believe, mistakenly, that I would run with abandon after an upside-down straw broom in a bikini, thinking it was a ‘stick-skinny-blonde’ woman.
“You must be enjoying the three B’s,” she said to me.
“Three B’s?”
“Blondes, Boobs, and Butts.”
“I appreciate the scenery,” I said, purposefully looking out at the horizon and not at the women. “I give thanks for beauty in all its manifold forms.”
“If you want them, have them. Be my guest. Go for it.”
“You propose to me one day and dispose of me the next.”
“Propose to you?!”
“Yes, you’re constantly asking me to marry you.”
“No. I’m asking why you won’t marry me.”
“I’ve told you so many times already, if we never marry, there’s a zero percent chance of our getting divorced.”
“The only isle you’ll walk down with me is the chips and snacks isle of the supermarket.”
“Oh, don’t say that. You know damn well that if I got down on one knee right here and proposed to you, you’d say no.”
“That’s true, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to try.”
I dropped everything I was carrying and got down on one knee in the sand and took her hand in mine. “Will you marry me?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why not?”
“Because, you’re not even looking in my eyes, you’re looking at my crotch.”
“That’s the part that I wish to enter into. . . holy matrimony.”
“Well, the clam shack is closed.”
I stood up again and we spread our towels and set up our chairs right on the spot that I proposed to her. How romantic! Finally, I was able to relax just a little bit.
She was still sore about the gaggle of girls we had passed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“I just feel so fat compared to them,” she said, grabbing her tummy roll and squeezing it. “I feel like a Jell-O Jiggler.”
Lo Roll
“Lo, please.”
I reached over and grabbed her tum.
“What are you doing?”
“Touching my favorite part of you.”
“My least favorite part.”
“Agree to agree with me.”
We at least let the matter drop.
Once we were comfortable, Lo took out her phone, I took out my book. She was lying on her tum, her feet dangling in the air, as she scrolled through whatever it was that had her attention. A few moments later she turned to me and said, “Do you mind if Kaylee and her new boyfriend join us?”
“What?”
“Kaylee, remember Kaylee?”
Oh yes, I remembered Kaylee alright. Lo had had a fling with her and her previous boyfriend. I just didn’t understand how or why they would be joining us.
“She’s here! On this beach,” Lo added.
“How do you know?”
“She just posted a pic of herself here and I reached out to her.”
“Oh, so you had already invited them to join us before asking me?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said in her conciliatory little girl voice. “I thought you’d enjoy seeing her in what she’s wearing.”
“And what is she wearing?” I asked.
“Not much,” she said, showing me the image on her phone.
Kaylee was only in a very skimpy blue bikini.
“Well, I guess they can swing by,” I conceded reluctantly. “But they need to be six feet away. COVID Times, you know.”
“I know.”
As we waited for them to arrive, I taunted Lo with, “So, will Kaylee also come under your ‘female gaze’?”
“I don’t know if she’ll cum, but I might,” she retorted.
“Funny.”
“You know,” she said, schooling me, “the ‘female gaze’ isn’t simply when a woman oogles a man or a woman as an object the way men oogle women as objects.”
“Oh no? What is it professor?”
“It’s a term of art to describe the point of view of a woman that gets at the interior life, thoughts, feelings, emotions of the woman.”
“That’s what the male gaze is too,” I said. “However, it just so happens that men are simply one-dimensional, shallow, and single-mindedly focused on sex.”
“Does that include you?”
“Oh no.”
“No?”
“No, I am multi-dimensionally, deeply, and many-mindedly focused on sex.”
“That is true. But how can you be ‘many-mindedly’?”
“It’s an expression, like, when one says, ‘I’m of two minds about such-and-such.’ I am of many-minds about sex. All of them for it.”
“If only you had as many cocks for sex as you have minds for sex, I might be satisfied with only you.”
“I would look like some sort of Hindu god with that many cocks!”
“And I could be your consort.”
Kaylee and her new boyfriend, Keith, arrived. You might remember both Kaylee and Keith from “The Love Elite,” the culminating story of the “Lust in the Dunes” series. Well, since then, Kaylee broke up with Corey and started up with Keith. Lo had been with all three of them, as you no doubt recall.
The two of them set up a pandemically prudent distance away from us, but not too far that we couldn’t talk. They brought with them a cooler of beers that they willingly shared with us.
We caught up with each other, for it had been a long time since we had last seen them in person.
After about an hour of chit-chat, Lo and Kaylee were lying out. Lo was reading a book and Kaylee said she didn’t have anything to read. Lo reached into her bag and, to my great surprise, she pulled out the prototype of Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume II: MORE! that she had been reading and lent it to her.
“What’s this?” asked Kaylee.
“I know you liked 50 Shades,” said Lo. “This is way better. Let me know what you think of it when you’re done.”
A couple of hours passed as the sun descended in the sky, decreasing in intensity, mellowing to a warm, gentle ruddy hue. We had swam and laughed, but now Lo said she had to pee. Due to COVID, she was hesitant to use a public restroom. And besides, the facilities were way down on the other end of the beach.
There was always the restaurant we had lunched in, but that wasn’t too close and the urge had snuck up on her.
“Go in the ocean,” coaxed Kaylee.
Lo shook her head ‘no.’
I knew what was in her mind. She always likes to be sensational and provoke a reaction. She’s secretly competitive and likes the partners of her friends to know that she is the most slutty, dirty, and depraved so that they secretly (or not-so-secretly) fantasize about her while with her friends.
“Does anyone mind if I, uh, you know, here?”
“Pee?” asked Kaylee with a laugh.
“Yeah.”
“In the sand?”
“Yeah.”
“You want us to go away?”
“Nah. You can watch if you want.”
“Do it!” she said.
Lo sat on the edge of her folding chair, spread her legs wide, pulled her skimpy bikini bottoms slightly askew, exposing her silky-smooth pussy, and she let the stream pour into the fine golden sand.
A few seconds into her stream, I could detect that something was amiss. I saw her fingers clench the edge of the chair, her legs begin to tremble, her breasts begin to heave. And then, there it was, a seamless transition from micturition to hysterical paroxysm, complete with an uncontrollable emanation of fluid. Unlike the first flow, this one was powerful and had an ascending trajectory.
Lo’s short shorts
Lo just bore down and said, “Fuck!” as she experienced the waves of unanticipated pleasure ripple through her flesh.
She was literally gushing with contradictory feelings: embarrassment, excitement, shame, pride, disgrace, abandon, power. The complete loss of control of her bodily functions made her feel infantile, yet her almost superhuman ability to achieve an orgasm that spouts with greater force, volume, distance, and longevity than any man’s ejaculation filled her with a sense of superiority to both men and women. All of her emotions occurred simultaneously and were expressed through her facial contortions, as though she were being deliciously tortured.
“Holy shit!” cried out Keith, for he had never seen anything like that in person before.
He got up and measured the distance from Lo to the end of the wet trail she left in the sand and calculated it to be about six feet.
“What just happened?” he asked.
“I’ve been having spontaneous squirting orgasms lately. I don’t know why or what’s going on,” said Lo, blushing as red as the setting sun. “I probably should see a doctor.” Her pussy was still dripping like a leaky faucet.
“Or stop masturbating so much,” I added, almost under my breath, but not quite.
“Feel better?” asked Kaylee.
“No, that’s the thing. It just makes me more horny for an intentional orgasm.”
There was an uncomfortable silence while we all contemplated what might happen next. Then suddenly there was a strong, cool wind from the south that blew everything all over the place and kicked sand up in our faces. We scrambled to collect our stuff and then we said a hasty goodbye as it looked like rain.
Back in the car, I looked at Lo.
“What?” she asked.
“You know what.”
“It was out of my control.”
“Not that.”
“Then what?”
“You gave her the book.”
“So?”
“So?! I’ve written about her. She’s in it!”
“Not in that volume.”
“Don’t you think that she can find the blog and quickly see that it’s you. . . and me?”
“So what? I’m done with having to apologize for who I am.”
“If you’re fine with it, then so am I,” I said.
We were on the road for a bit. The rain was thrashing against the windshield. We sat, exhausted from a full day in the hot sun. Silently we listened to the rhythm of the wipers and the crackle of the raindrops. It was relaxing.
“What are you thinking about, Little Miss Puddle Pants?” I asked.
“Stop it.”
“Well?”
“I was thinking about the female gaze again.”
“Oh, reminiscing about the girls you jilled to?”
“No,” she said defensively. “I was thinking how I like to be the object of the male gaze.”
“No kidding.”
“But that the way you write me, the way I am in the books, is much more of the female gaze.”
“How so?” I asked, glad to be talking of my writing.
“Well, yes, you portray me as a sex-starved, dirty, nasty, little nympho slut.”
“I. . .” I tried to protest.
“Don’t interrupt. But, you also get me from the inside. You see into me and portray how I see things.”
“A lot of people see into you,” I said, making a bad pun. It took her a moment to get it.
“Not like that! I’m serious. You don’t write about me as one-dimensional. You might depict one side of me more than the others.”
“And which side would that be?” I again quipped.
“But you portray me as who I am, who I really am. And if Kaylee doesn’t appreciate that, then too bad for her.”
“And what happens when I, inevitably, write about today and she sees it on the blog?”
“Well, you wouldn’t write anything untrue about her, would you?”
“No.”
“So, she has nothing to get upset about.”
“Fair.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Will you fuck me when we get home?” she asked as she began to doze off in the car.
“You’ll be asleep when we get home, dear.”
“Fuck me anyway. You must be in so much pain after all that today,” she said as she reached down between my legs. “I’d blow you now, but I think I need a nap.”
[If you liked this beach story, you’ll love the stories in our books: Sexy Shorts, Shorter Shorts, and our forthcoming Slut Life]
Lola Mounted
[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Quick Anal Hookups.”]
Lo sat down. Lilly looked up and took out her earbuds. Suzanne smiled a disingenuous smirk. I looked guilty, though I was not.
Lola in bed
“Good morning, Lo,” said Suzanne. “Sleep well?”
“I did,” replied Lo.
“The rain didn’t bother you?” asked Suzanne.
“Rain? Did it rain?” asked Lo.
“There was a brief shower,” said Suzanne. “I thought you might have got caught in it after you left my room.”
Lo said nothing.
“What’s the plan for today?” asked Suzanne. “Maybe some more water sports?”
Clearly she was speaking to Lo. Teasing her? Trying to push her buttons? Lo was firmly in control of her temper.
“Not sure,” said Lo, right back at her, “will you be exercising the dogs? They look like they have a lot of pent-up energy.”
“Only Bandit. Shadow is looking spent from burying his bone yesterday.”
Lo was about to say something when Jim joined us wearing only his bathing suit.
“Morning!” he said cheerfully oblivious to all the tension.
At the sight of him, Suzanne stood up and said that she was going to run the wash so that she will have a clean comforter in case it gets cold tonight. She added, “Anything you’d like me to wash? I’m sure you’re eager to get home, but if I can help you clean up.”
“Was it something I said?” asked Jim, suddenly sensing the chill in the air.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Lilly. “It’s Suzanne. She’s still hungover from last night and she’s just darkening our day with her storm clouds.” Lilly never referred to Suzanne as “Aunt Suzanne.”
Lilly rolled over on her back and proudly displayed her still virginal pussy. Lo caught me stealing a glance at it.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” she said more than asked.
Time to take my lumps, I thought.
I went with Lo to the front of the cottage and, before she could begin to scold me, I professed my innocence.
“Forget all that,” she said to my great surprise. “I want to go. Are you ready?”
“Yeah, whatever you want,” I said. “But what about Collin? He’s not even up yet.”
As if he had heard me, he appeared in the front door saying, “There you two are!” He was as genial as ever. “Sleep well?”
“Fine,” said Lo, flatly.
“Good, good. I’ll have breakfast ready in a little.”
“I think we’re just going to get on the road,” said Lo.
“Nonsense! It’s a long drive back. I can’t let you leave on an empty stomach.”
There was no denying Collin when he was hospitable.
“HH, will you help me get some wood? I think we’ll cook breakfast over the fire.”
I went with Collin to the wood stack and along the way he said, “You know HH, Lo has been nothing but kind to me. I am sorry that I have to apologize for my wife and the way she has treated Lo. I would love to see you both again.”
“That’s all up to Lo,” I said. “I don’t make those sorts of decisions for her. She’s her own woman, you know.”
“Oh, I know. And what a woman she is!”
“You don’t know the half of it, I’m sure.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“One day Lo might let you in. But, until then, just use your imagination.”
For once, Collin seemed speechless! Advantage HH!!!
“I like a little game,” he said.
Game on!
After that, there was not much more to report. The six of us had breakfast. Collin tried to figure out the riddle I had hinted to him about Lo. Suzanne insisted that Lo return soon “because the dogs are just crazy about you. . . and so am I!”
With a peck on the cheek, Suzanne wished Lo and me safe travels. Collin gave me a firm handshake. Too firm. He hugged Lo affectionately. Too affectionately and too long.
Then Lo and I were off in our car back to the city. Along the way she filled me in on all the details that were missing from my knowledge of the week and that I have just relayed to you, dear reader.
It was a lot for me to take in, but luckily it was a long and bucolic drive. After her stories were at an end, we both settled into a pensive silence. I was thinking about how, no if I could write these stories. It would be a tall order. A real challenge.
Lola Ready for Action
I began to ponder, what’s this blog about? What am I writing about when I write about my sex life with Lola? It’s about sex, yes. That much is clear. But it’s really about so much more than that. It’s about psychology. About Lo’s psychology, for sure. But, more than that, it’s about the psychology of women. For years of my long life, women were the cliché mystery wrapped in an enigma sporting a thong and a bra. But then I met Lo and everything changed. She, more than anyone I’ve ever met, opened up – in more ways than one – and let me in, let me explore, let me discover, let me uncover, let me wander. The more I sought, the more seemed hidden. She has depths beneath her depths and her surfaces are sublime. I’m fascinated and intoxicated by her charisma, power of seduction, and her embrace of her inner slut.
The reason why I can write seemingly endless tomes about Lo, besides the raw material that she provides, is that there is no end to the psychological speculation that manifests in the physical enactment of her libidinous expressions of love and lust.
As I sat silently pondering these fleeting reflections, Lo began squirming out of her short shorts and pink panties.
“Lo, what the?”
“Keep driving,” was all she said. She began by fingering her clit. She progressed to penetrating her cunt. Her bare feet went up on the dash and she spread her legs. Her digital manipulation had escalated to an open hand slapping her pussy. I had seen her do this before, many times, but this time there was something more violent about it. It was as if she was punishing her pussy for being so sinful. Slap, slap, smack, whap! Down her open palm went sadistically spanking her vajayjay with unrelenting physical rebuke. Masochistically, that very same cunt she was clobbering was simultaneously showing signs of sexual stimulation. With each violent vaginal clap, I could hear her getting wet and each slap sounding more like a splash.
Her legs were spread as wide apart as they could be in the confined space. Her left foot was close to the steering wheel and her right up in the corner by the passenger side window. From between her legs she suddenly let out a long, forceful spray straight up onto the windshield coinciding with a loud, “FUUUUUUUCK!”
When she was done and her legs were crossed and her breathing heavy, but not panting, I simply said to her, “You know, I didn’t get the interior windshield wiper option when I bought this car.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” she said, using her shorts to mop up the mess.
Once we were back home, I, with a new understanding of Collin and his predicament, took some pity on the old chap. In my moment of sympathy, I ordered a larger than life photograph of Lo for him to add to his art collection. A few weeks later, when he had received it, he sent back a photo. He had mounted it just above his bed. I guess that was his mount bliss. Collin finally did mount Lo in the end.
Collin Finally Mounts Lo
“I do it dirtier”
[The mini-series “Mount Bliss” continues from “Girlfriends.”]
Lo was just about to walk out of Suzanne’s room, finally, when Suzanne called to her, “Lo. One more thing.”
Lo turned around. Suzanne had removed the comforter from her bed and put it in Lo’s arms. “Drop this in the laundry please.”
Lo didn’t ask questions. She could feel the cum from me leaking out of her ass and also some from her earlier encounter leaking from her pussy down the inside of her thigh.
That parting word from Suzanne further exacerbated Lo’s misgivings about this newly formed “friendship.”
Lo walked down the dark hallway to the laundry area, dropped the comforter in the machine, and then began walking back towards the room we were sharing, but her return to my side got interrupted. Collin appeared from out of the darkness, holding in his hand a tumbler of scotch on the rocks.
“How’d that go?” he asked in a whisper.
After the initial fright of seeing him, Lo burst into tears in his arms and cried. To his credit, he held her and comforted her. He then led her to his room, not mine. Foiled again.
In his spacious bedroom, Lo said she wanted to shower. She repeated her performance of the previous night, stripping down in front of him and getting clean in the open-plan shower as he watched from the bed.
Just after she had turned off the water, he stood next to her holding a plush towel for her. She took it, dried off and then he held her naked body and kissed her.
“Lo, how I wish I could. . .” He trailed off. He kissed her passionately and she reciprocated. Out of force of habit or sheer lust, she removed his clothes until he was naked. She dropped down to the floor, her knees by his feet, her mouth by his flaccid cock. She remembered Suzanne’s words, “a man who pursues power.”
Lo, in her complex psychology, not only wanted to give Collin the feeling of power that his impotent phallus couldn’t provide, but, in so doing, gain the upper hand. All Lo’s life she had used her body, her sexuality, her physicality, her animalistic lust, and her intellect to dominate men. She liked the feeling of superiority that her feminine allure gave her over weak, needy, desperate men. Knowing that a simple yet mysterious glance, an inadvertent caress, an apparently careless reveal could put a man fully in her power pleased her. She didn’t have to sleep with him to experience the high of this advantage. It was satisfying enough to know her relative position vis-à-vis men without being in the physical position of dominating them. But, the sex was often an added bonus.
Perhaps that was why she not only liked or loved me, but remained with me. I was the only man who dared say no to her. I was her great challenge. And loving other men was just one of the tools she used to keep me cumming to her. Simultaneously, my permissiveness and apparent lack of jealousy and independence of her was her Everest. I knew full well that the day I forbade her her freedom, denied her her sexual denizens, or revealed any indication of my being beholden to her magical spell, that would be the day that she would move on to a bigger challenge.
I digress. Lo had found a way to build Collin’s deflated ego through the use of his droopy dick, the source of his diminished self-esteem.
Lo sat on the floor of the shower, spread her legs wide, leaned back, supporting her weight with her arms, and looked up at Collin. “Grab it,” she commanded.
“What?”
“Grab it.”
Collin reached down and held his sloping shlong in his right hand.
“Aim,” instructed Lo.
“What?”
“Point it at me and shoot.”
Now Collin caught on.
“Use it. Drench me. Disgrace me. Degrade me. Cover me in your urine. Soak me in your pee. Humiliate me in your hot piss.”
Lola began fingering her hole as Collin confidently released his stream, raining down on Lo’s head, hair, face, chest, tits, tum, and pussy.
“Come on!” she said, opening her mouth. “Just like at the amusement park.”
He got it in, filling her up until he ran out of ammunition.
Ready, Aim, Fire!
“You like that?” she asked him.
“That was. . . crazy,” he said, clearly stunned by the sloppy slut slipping and sliding on the tiles by his feet.
She slithered toward him and stretched her wet hands up his legs to his cock and took it in her mouth. No response, as she suspected. But she enjoyed it nonetheless.
She stood, rubbing her wet body against his hard body and then kissed him, open mouth, while simultaneously cupping his balls in her right hand.
“Whatever Suzanne does,” she said in an authoritative whisper, “I do dirtier.”
She knew she had him in her power now. Even if he couldn’t get it up, showing his appreciation with his rigid manhood, or cum for her like a suppliant pouring forth tribute, she knew he was hers. She had conquered her quest. She had ascended the top of Mount Bliss.
[Note from us: We are approaching the last few installments of the Mount Bliss mini-series. Have we lost you? Are you still enjoying this? We see many of you click the “like” buttons, but not many comments. Let us know your thoughts please.]
Southern Comfort
[The mini-series, “Mount Bliss,” continues from “Asses Up” with a story of reuniting lovers.]
Lola’s Nectarine
There we were, the six of us, finally, all together. Lo and Lily, naked as water nymphs wading in the blue lake. Collin, a seeming avuncular benefactor to his young niece and her attractive friend. Suzanne, sitting bemused by her husband’s masochistic tendencies. Oh, and the two dogs, Shadow and Bandit, lounging in the warm sun, too lazy to bark at Jim and me as we approached the backyard, they merely lifted their heads and looked over with expressions of mild curiosity mixed with ennui.
After Lola had greeted me and Lily greeted Jim, the two of them had made proper introductions of me to Suzanne since, as of yet, I had never met her. I could see a spark of interest in her eye as I shook her hand politely and Lo showed me off like a prize on a game show. I didn’t want to be Suzanne’s prize. I just wanted to be unwrapped by Lo.
I greeted “Uncle Collin” with an external warmth and “manly” handshake that masked my deep-seated antipathy toward him. Collin and Suzanne were hospitable, offering us lunch, cold drinks, and to change clothes if we wished to enjoy the lake.
I didn’t know how to say, “Can you all please just allow Lola and me some private time to ourselves before we join you?” So I didn’t say that. Not to mention, Lo seemed quite content with making me suffer by continuing my physical deprivation of her body and my mental agony of seeing her show off her assets before my nemesis, Collin.
As I said, Lo and Lily waded into the placid lake as Jim and I sat on lounge chairs, tall Gin and Tonics by our sides, making small talk with Collin and Suzanne. “How was the ride?” “What the hell’s happening in the big city?” “Have you heard all the adventures that we’ve been up to here?”
That last question, spoken in his boisterous tone by Collin, landed like a grenade in my lap. I wanted to say, “Yeah, I heard about how you have been living out all your fantasies of seducing girls one-third your age, one of whom is your niece no less!”
I suppose this was a writer’s karma coming back to bite me since a while back I had written lurid, lengthy passages about The Nutcracker and Clara’s relationship with her Uncle Drosselmeyer. Here, life was imitating my art (or philosophical musings) as Uncle Collin played the prurient host to titillate Lo with his perfectly choreographed vignettes of vice. Of course, that’s not the way Lo saw things. According to her, Collin was a perfect gentleman, showering upon her all the kindness and attention that she rightfully deserved. Vanity skews reality terribly.
The girls sat down on their towels in the sun as Jim, Collin, and I sat in chairs. We were all facing out toward the lake. Collin offered to get the girls another drink. Lo asked for a tall glass of ice water in addition to another G&T. It seems to me that there is an unwritten rule that women must do things in pairs, never solo, and so Lily also asked for a tall glass of water on the side.
I tried to be a good guest and offered to help Collin, but he turned me down and encouraged me to “get reacquainted” with Lola.
Suzanne returned with a tray of drinks. In her absence, she apparently changed into a skimpy outfit. Not quite nude, but not hiding anything either. The dogs were dutifully by her side.
Lola accepted the drinks graciously and then Jim and Lily got up to play a game of horseshoes on the lawn. Lola remained, sitting on her towel across from me. She sat up and bent her knees, displaying her crotch to me.
“Hot today,” she said with a seductive sip of her straw.
She pulled out an ice cube from her glass and ran it over her lips, under her chin, down her neck, over her nipple, and down to her crotch, over her clit and, eventually, slipped it right in her cunt.
“That feels goooood,” she said. “Miss me?”
I was practically drooling as I looked at her.
She repeated her performance with another ice cube, delighting in my discomfort.
Then she took the remaining four or five ice cubes out of the cup and slipped them into her pussy.
“Do you want to play, Daddy?” she asked.
“Play what?” I queried.
“A game,” she said ambiguously. She then crawled on all fours toward me and, when she got right between my legs as I sat in my lawn chair, she kneeled in front of me and put her elbows on my knees and looked up at me. She said, “I missed you.”
It was nice to hear those words from her mouth. But I shouldn’t have been fooled. She was not being sweet, she was being sexy. Just after the words I longed to hear dripped off her lips, the ice cubes she had been harboring inside her hot snatch dropped from her sopping pussy onto the grass.
“Whoops,” she said. “I guess I’m not as tight as I used to be.”
“I’m interested in seeing our sleeping quarters,” I said to her.
“Oh, Daddy, you’re in such a rush. Let’s enjoy the weather while it’s still sunny out.” She could see my raging hard-on through my shorts and she said, “I’ll make it all up to you later.”
“I’m not going to enjoy anything until I hear about your time here.”
She knew what I meant by hearing about her time. Our special pillow talk.
“Oh, Daddy, it’s been so much fun!” she almost squealed. “I wish we could go back and do everything again with you!”
“What did you do?”
“You’ll hear all about it tonight. But right now, let’s make some new memories together.”
She got up and Suzanne called us to join the others to eat. Lola and Lily put on some skimpy shreds of fabric and we headed up for a late lunch.
They had grilled out on the deck and I was famished.
As we sat around the table in the backyard, I tried to tamp down how much I despised Collin and did my best to avoid the flirtations that I perceived from Suzanne.
“It’s too bad you couldn’t join us, H,” said Collin in his booming voice that made everything he said sound like a brag. “You would have really enjoyed it. I think the girls did.”
“The girls?” I thought. Such a chauvinist. Where was Lo’s feminist streak? I guess it washed off in the lake or she shed it while streaking around the back yard.
“But don’t think I spoiled them,” he continued. “Oh no. I made them work for their room and board. I think Lo might have even developed blisters on her hands from the effort.”
“Is that so?” I asked, turning to Lo. “Let me see the palms of those delicate hands.”
Lo showed me her hands and said, “I had to tug and squeeze and pull and yank, just to get a little bit of cream. But the taste was sooooo rich and sweet that it was totally worth it.”
“Did you churn it as well?” I asked, playing along with her.
“I sure did. I churned it until all that cream turned to butter.”
“I bet you did. Golden, sweet butter. I can’t wait to taste it.”
“And my peach?!”
“Peaches,” I corrected her. “You picked more than one, didn’t you?”
“There’s only one worth having,” she said. “But did I say peach? I meant, nectarine.”
Collin served up the burgers, steak, veggie kabobs, and Suzanne brought out the salad and more drinks.
“Isn’t he a darling?” asked Suzanne to Lola with reference to me. She had a barely perceptible southern drawl that came out more pronounced in her question.
“I see now,” said Lo, “he is just the darlingest darling.” Her voice was conveying a lot of latent content, most of it hostile to both me and Suzanne.
Suzanne was fluttering around, clearly trying to impress in what was basically her lingerie as she attended to Jim and me. After five days of being a recluse in her room, suddenly Suzanne was eager be the life of the party. She vigorously mixed our martinis in the shaker above her head like a bartender straight out of Cowboy Ugly. She bent over to pour out the drinks into the fancy, handmade, delicate glasses. She strutted her stuff in heels across the slate floor and generally put on a Lola-worthy performance. It afforded me a glimpse into the life of Lola in twenty years (when I’m either dead or in the old-age home).
She had been friendly, in a cordial way, to Lo and Lily, but now she was flirty, vivacious, and playing the role of the vixen.
Collin watched with a just perceptible look of perturbance on his face. Not outright scorn or contempt, but a subtle disapproval of her behavior. Who was he, though, to call her out?
After a few drinks, I stopped avoiding the unwelcome attention of Suzanne and began to enjoy it to the exact degree that it annoyed Lola to witness. And the more I displayed my pleasure at Suzanne’s doting over me, the more Lola was visibly disturbed by the spectacle.
Jim was only slightly less distraught than Lo due to Suzanne’s uninvited flirtation. Lily paid her no mind, as if Suzanne was merely a summer fly that had to be tolerated, but couldn’t ruin all the other benefits of the great outdoors. We sat around the deck sipping our drinks in the afternoon sun, which made the already potent concoctions even more powerful. I was pacing myself, but I noticed that for every drink the rest of us downed, Suzanne had pounded two.
Soon afternoon had turned to early evening and Collin lit the fire pit.
It was as if a switch had flipped in Suzanne’s head and without warning her hospitality and flirtation transposed into hostility and vindictiveness, aimed mostly at Collin.
“What do you think, Collin,” she taunted with spite, “should I take H here on a trip to the hotel? Strip him down naked, and enjoy some eye-candy? Would you like that? Maybe he would like this?” she said, rubbing her hands over her hips. What had seemed charming and attractive just a little while ago, now, with the admixture of too much alcohol, appeared to me rather disgraceful and repugnant.
For the first time since I met him, Collin was visibly uncomfortable, not in control of the situation, and at a loss.
“That’s enough of that,” he said to Suzanne, feigning power, but revealing fear. “Tell me, H, of this big case that kept you away this week,” he said to me, trying to steer our attention away from his wayward wife.
“Yes, H, tell us,” Suzanne said, stealing the spotlight again. “Did you press your point hard? I bet you have such an interesting job. Not just vicariously getting animals to live your life for you.”
I let out a nervous laugh and said, “It’s actually quite boring.”
“Boring?!” squealed Lo.
“Of course, I don’t mean you. I mean work.”
“See, Collin, how he adores her?” Suzanne tossed in his face.
“That’s enough,” began Collin.
“And he doesn’t even hold it against her that she’s a little slut for you.”
“Hey,” I said, feeling like I needed to come to the defense of Lola despite the fact that we’ve never before regarded the S-word as a slur. But between us it isn’t meant as an insult.
“No, no,” said Collin, “let her talk. Let her show you who and what she really is.”
Now it was getting very tense at the table and Lo, always the social lubricant, interrupted it to say she’d help clear the dishes. She got up and grabbed a few plates from in front of us and sashayed toward the house.
“Can I get anyone anything while I’m up?” she asked over her shoulder.
Collin was busy staring down Suzanne. Suzanne was busy staring at me. Jim was suggesting to Lily that they go to bed and Lily excused herself to help Lola. What an uncomfortable set of sexually frustrated friends.
“Collin, did you know that HH is a scholar of art history?” Lily asked, interrupting the thick silence.
“No, no I didn’t. I thought he was a lawyer.”
“People can be more than one thing,” said Suzanne.
“Would you like to show him your art collection?” suggested Lily.
“An excellent idea,” said Collin, clearly eager to get out of the close quarters of the dining area turned battlefield and eager to show off more of his monetary prowess.
He took me by the arm and began showing me various second-rate paintings and sculptures that he had acquired over the years and haphazardly arranged around the house. None of it was worth a quarter of what he had paid for it, I’m sure.
When we were done with our little tour, he led us back to the living room where Lo and Lily were whispering something.
It was set up like a little conversation pit with a fireplace and round leather couches. When we got there, Suzanne followed with the two dogs in tow. She started teasing them and roughhousing with them until she was on all fours and they were nipping at her playfully, yipping and yapping.
“These two,” she said, “have been so jealous for my attention ever since you arrived.”
“Suzanne!” called Collin. “Please!”
“They are so jealous. They can’t stand to have other males in the house.”
“Stop it!”
“Well, except for Collin, of course. But he doesn’t count.”
The dogs were jumping, getting behind her and lifting their front paws.
“That’s why they’re so frisky,” she laughed.
“SUZANNE!!!” yelled Collin. This time Suzanne, clearly inebriated, merely laughed hysterically at the playful pets.
Just then there was a startling CRASH from behind us.
Suzanne & Bandit