We’re very excited to share this latest creation by Jupiter Grant (narrator) for Audible –
Match, Cinder & Spark, Vol. V: Shorter Shorts
Creating these audiobooks has been a labor of love. The talented and ingenious Jupiter Grant painstakingly records herself acting out all the parts. She does a great job as Lola, especially during the multiple orgasm episodes. She also pouts pretty well.
The audio experience is an eargasm for your mind. Get yours today, right here!
It was Labor Day weekend. The COVID numbers were down low. Lo Down’s libido was up high. She always wants summer to last forever, but this particular year she was fearing the worst about the fall and winter. Predictions were dire. After her relaxed restrictions with MILF Meri and the brothers, she was increasingly feeling like a cornered animal as the days grew shorter.
Though her camping trip with MILF Meri and her son was way more than she had anticipated and it resulted in a couple of weeks of added anxiety, it seemed that the whole matter had just blown over. She and Meri had been in frequent communication together, trying to suss out implications of their rendezvous. Nothing seemed to come of it, to their great relief.
At the same time, they had been conspiring to create a way for Lo to politely bow out of her irregularly scheduled, but frequent, meetings with the brothers and for Meri to have an extramarital affair that could fulfill her desire for young, virile, and large cock, without her having to look too close to home. Occam’s Razor – simply swap Meri for Lo as the brothers’ playmate of choice and Lo for Meri at home. But the best laid fans require groundwork. Lo and Meri set their minds to pulling off the switcheroo. The opening gambit was introductions.
A backyard barbeque, socially distant, with only a few select guests presented itself as the most appropriate, convenient, and expeditious option. To our little affair, Lo invited the brothers and Meri.
You might recall that the last time the brothers had paid a booty-call to Lo, they brought over a little something. After they left, I said to Lo, “That sure is a big package.”
“Whose, Gary’s or Roy’s?” Lo asked.
“Whichever one left it.” I still don’t know who is who. It’s not like we engage in any actual conversation when they come over to pay a visit. That is, when they pay a visit to cum over Lo.
“Oh,” sung Lo, “that package. I thought you were talking about something else.”
The brothers had left something on the living room coffee table before they abruptly left.
“You know Lo,” I said, thinking about the way they treat her, “those two had better not go into the stock market.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked, picking up the big box and looking at it with curiosity.
“Because their only technique is classic pump and dump.”
“Funny,” she said with sarcasm.
“And you had better get out of the stock market.”
“What?” she asked, confused.
“You cause things to get over heated and that leads to dangerous inflation.”
“You are taxing the economic analogies,” she said.
“And you’re a quick wit.”
“And a faster fuck.”
“What’s in the box?” I asked, returning to the large item on the coffee table.
Lo picked it up, shook it, and then slowly slid off the top.
“Oh, look at that! The brothers’ mother sent over a little thank you gift.”
“Is it a large box of condoms?”
“No, silly. Besides, it would be a box of large condoms for those two!”
“Then what is it?”
Out of the box she pulled a hefty blue glass vase.
“Isn’t that sweet,” I said, “a wide receptacle in which to place long stems.”
“Enough of the single-entendre. There’s a note. ‘Dear Lola, Thank you so much for all your care and concern for my boys. They have told me how sweet you are to them and, as their mother, I appreciate it.’ That was nice.”
“Little does she know how sweet you are to them!”
“Let’s hope so,” said Lo.
We hadn’t seen them since then. Lo was busy with her MILF Meri. And the brothers, well, who knows what those boys were up to.
But now Lo and Meri had it all perfectly choreographed. The brothers were to join and finally meet MILF Meri who had been keen to bed them ever since Lo hatched this plan. Matchmakers’ schemes rarely ever come off without a hitch and this was no exception. As if still attached to his mother by the umbilical cord, MILF Meri’s youngest son, the one who tagged along for Lo and Meri’s camping weekend, also came, uninvited, to the BBQ. As if that wasn’t bad enough to upend Lo and Meri’s machinations, Roy or Gary (I still can’t tell them apart, though they’re not identical twins or even twins at all!) brought his girlfriend, unannounced. The young, innocent doe was everything Lo despises in a female competitor (and let’s face it, she views almost all females as competitors). The girlfriend was a thin waif with long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and she was quite young – still in high school. She wore a cutoff t-shirt, proudly displaying her midriff and navel piercing, almost displaying her underboob, and she wore tight blue denim shorts (fashionably ripped and faded of course), and flip-flops.
The moment she walked into the back yard with one of the brothers, I could see Lo’s soul fuming, even as Lo pleasantly said, “No, it’s not a problem at all that you came. What’s your name?” The word façade is from the word face and Lo’s face was a true façade – concealing her inner green-eyed slayer.
“Ell, short for Ella. Everyone calls me Ell,” she said with a bubbly, vapid smile.
“And you’re whose girlfriend?” I asked, impolitely, reinforcing the interchangeability of the siblings in my mind.
“Gary’s, of course,” she said, grabbing his arm. I took note that Gary was wearing a blue shirt and Roy wore a black shirt.
“I see. How long have you been dating?” I asked, offering them a drink.
“No alcohol,” called Lo over her shoulder as she eavesdropped on our conversation. “She’s not old enough.”
I passed Ell a ginger ale.
“We started dating just before COVID. It’s been so difficult,” she complained, “because his mother has been so strict about him and Roy seeing anyone. We’ve only been able to meet in person once or twice since then and all without his mother’s knowledge.”
“Please don’t say anything about her being here today, HH,” requested Gary. Those were, perhaps, the most words he had ever spoken to me, though he had been banging Lola all through COVID, along side his brother.
“Oh, I can keep a secret. Rest assured,” I replied, well aware that his trysts with Lo were a secret to innocent, young Ell as well as his ever-watchful and protective mother.
“Thanks,” said Ell, flirtatiously with me. It was transparently obvious that she was trying to use her sex-appeal to get me on her side. “And you’re Lola’s father?” was her follow-up question.
Before I could answer, either affirmatively or negatively, she added in her bubbly attempt at charm, “I can see the resemblance.”
“Now you’re just flattering me,” I said. Luckily, Lola was out of earshot and neither Roy nor Gary let on otherwise. I think they were dumbstruck, metaphorically scratching their heads at Ell’s inappropriate and incorrect question and my hesitance to disabuse her of the notion. I winked at the boys, including them in my little ruse. If they were going to implicitly include me in their deception of Ell, then they owed me an old man’s little joke.
MILF Meri approached and introduced herself and her son, as if he needed her to do everything for him. He too was still in high school.
“You’ll excuse me,” I said, “I have to get the food ready. I’m sure you all have lots in common.” I knew very well that the one thing they all had in common was that they all had fucked Lo, with the exception of Ell, who was in the dark about it all.
MILF Meri was wearing a long, flowy orange skirt with a sexy slit that originated at her waist. She wore a tight tank-top with a bra that accentuated her cleavage. I wondered if her son knew that she was attending this party specifically to seduce the brothers.
“Looks like you have some rearranging to do,” I said when I met Lo in the kitchen.
“What do you mean?”
“MILF Meri has her horny son hanging on her and Gary brought a third-wheel who’s not you.”
“I’m never the third wheel,” she protested. “If anything, I’m the hub at the center.”
“You mean the hole that fits the axle?”
“Whatever. I’m a well-oiled machine.”
“With lots of horsepower.”
She laughed and said, “Do you think you can distract Shell?”
“Shell?” I asked. “Her name is Ell.”
“Whatever,” said Lo dismissively, “she’s a shell of a person.”
“Just because she’s young, blonde, stick-skinny, and flirting with me doesn’t mean. . .”
“Flirting with you?!”
“Yes. Is that so surprising? You should know better than anyone that I am irresistibly attractive to younger women.”
“Get out of here before I turn you into a gelding!” she said, raising the knife she was using to cut the tomatoes.
I quickly left with a laugh and returned to our company in the backyard. Soon after, Lo emerged with a plate of appetizers.
“Help yourselves. HH will fire up the grill and take your orders,” she said cheerfully.
I fulfilled my hosting role, as instructed, and Lo disappeared back inside. Little did I know at the time that Gary had followed her, leaving his girlfriend to talk to me while I put the meat over the flame.
“I wish you had told me you were bringing Ell,” said Lo to Gary, reproachfully.
“I’m sorry Lo, but she insisted. I couldn’t say no.”
“You couldn’t? It’s not your house. You could have just said that it’s an invitation-only party and she wasn’t invited.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Gary, meekly.
“What is it, then?”
“Well, I was hoping she’d meet you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Well,” he began without confidence, “she’s just not like you.”
“Few women are. Few men are, for that matter.”
“I mean, she’s so inexperienced. In bed, that is. She doesn’t do the things you do.”
“Of course not,” said Lo matter-of-factly, “she’s a skinny chick.”
“What does that mean?” asked Gary.
“Come with me,” she said, grabbing his belt buckle and leading him out of the kitchen, down the hall, to the bathroom. She shut and locked the door. She got naked. She sat on the toilet and unbuckled Gary’s belt, unzipped his pants, pulled out his cock and took it in her mouth. He was very hard. She peed and looked up at him, saying, “Guys use me. I’ll do what a skinny chick won’t. Would Ell do this?”
Gary reached down and pulled Lo’s head closer to him, causing her to envelop his meat with her mouth until it was in the back of her throat. While he was enjoying Lola’s oral pleasures, he glanced out the window into the backyard where he could see his girlfriend chatting with me.
Lo pulled her head back.
“Uh uh,” she cautioned. “You need to stay eager for your girlfriend.” She wiped, flushed, got up, bent over the sink until her bare rear was pressing up against Gary’s cock.
As she washed her hands, he attempted to penetrate her. “Can I have you, really quickly?”
“Na-ah,” she said, denying him.
“Just two minutes,” he pleaded.
“I’ll give you one minute. In my ass.”
Lo reached in the medicine cabinet, took out a tube of lube and circled it around and then in her special spot. Gary slid right in. He was desperately trying to cum in under sixty seconds. Lo was bent over the sink taking it and keeping track of the time. She had no intention of letting him cum. She needed him hard for MILF Meri.
At the sixty-second mark, Lo pulled forward and got on her knees, taking Gary in her mouth and looking up at him with a smile.
She could have easily coaxed him to cum in her mouth, but she released him and stood up, saying to him, “You see, boys use me when a skinny chick just won’t do.” She kissed him, open-mouthed, for a long time while her hand held his hard cock in her palm. “Maybe I should get a t-shirt that says that,” she mused, “Use me when a skinny girl just won’t do.”
She got dressed and led him out of the bathroom. Luckily for both of them, the coast was clear.
Back in the kitchen, Lo continued with the food prep as if nothing had happened, but Gary was stunned by Lo’s revelation about the difference between thick and thin. He was thinking it over as Lo washed some cucumbers.
“You mean,” he began to formulate a question.
“Pass me the pepper,” said Lo, with no time to spare for looking deep in his eyes and explaining the finer facts of life to him.
He passed the pepper unconsciously. His mind was elsewhere. “All the stuff you do. . . in bed. . . that. . .” He didn’t even know how to phrase it.
“Look,” said Lo, “I’m not saying every skinny chick is a missionary-two-minute-no orgasm-might-as-well-fuck-a-slice-of-warm-pie chick. I’m just saying that if you want to have what you have with me, you should be looking at a woman more like Meri. Fish where the fish are, you know?”
“Meri?” he said with shock. “That kid’s mom out there?”
“Yep.”
“But she’s married. A mom. A –”
“Amazing in bed!” Lo said, interrupting his slack-jawed confusion.
“What?”
“She’s a fucking animal in bed. I should know.”
“You and Meri. . . ?”
“That surprises you?”
“Um, well, ur. . . she’s married,” he protested again. “And a mom.”
“You have to stop seeing only labels. She’s a woman of flesh-and-blood. She has needs, wants, desires, drives. I’m with HH. That doesn’t stop me. Or you. Or your brother. Or Meri. Or her son.”
“Her son?!”
“Never mind I said that,” said Lo, happy to have planted the seed of jealousy. “You should see her tits,” continued Lo. “Here, will you carry this out to HH?” she asked, handing him a plate of hotdogs. “Tell him I’m done with them.”
“You didn’t. . . ?”
“No, I’m just kidding,” said Lo. “Or am I? Not to worry, I have lots of fresh, long, stiff cucumbers.”
Gary went outside with the dogs and, no sooner had he left than Meri walked into the kitchen.
“What the actual fuck?!” asked Meri dramatically.
“I don’t know,” said Lo, preparing the steak, “what?”
“You didn’t tell me his girlfriend would be here.”
“I assure you, I didn’t know. But really, remember the story of the kettle and the stove?”
“What?”
“You come in here accusing me of inviting Gary’s girlfriend and you show up with your son. He couldn’t stay home and make himself a pb&j?”
“I had no intention of. . .”
“After what happened last time, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Lo, really, I. . .”
Lola wasn’t in any mood to hear yet another excuse for why Mamma’s Boy was tagging along with MILF Meri to the party Lola planned especially for Meri to hook up with the brothers.
“You’re making my job a lot more difficult, you know.”
“What did Gary have to say to you?”
“Gary?”
“Yeah. He was just in here with you, wasn’t he?”
“He wants me to turn his inexperienced, prudish, girlfriend into a slutty sex goddess like me.”
“Ha! Good luck!”
“I redirected his attention to you.”
“That’s my good little pimp,” said Meri as she grabbed Lo around the waste to give her a kiss.
Just then, her son barged into the kitchen.
“Ma,” he whined, not realizing what he was interrupting.
“What?” asked Meri, turning away from Lo.
“Oh, come on, Mom! Give it a rest. Can’t you be around her for more than a minute without trying to get in her pants?”
“I imagine your intentions for coming with me were lily-white!”
He turned around, walked out, and slammed the door behind him.
During all of this, I was talking with Ell. Since Lo had invited all of her paramours here, I figured I had license to make her just a tad jealous while also teasing the unfortunate girl.
She and I had struck up a pleasant conversation, but she eventually asked to use the bathroom. I told her where it was and watched as she disappeared inside just as Lo was returning to the party with the salad bowl.
Lo loves to play hostess to large crowds. One of the most painful sacrifices she had to give up for COVID has been throwing parties. Well, that is the second most painful sacrifice for her. The first, of course, was no longer being the community cockbox. But the brothers had helped mollify her. She delights in feeding people and seeing them enjoy in her food and drink. I think that on some deeper psychological level that primal pleasure is connected with the sexual satisfaction she seeks from providing for others to feast on her carnal sweets. It is as if feeding people is how Lo vicariously fucks them.
Soon after, Ell returned and, acting glad to be in my company, picked up the conversation where she had left off.
“Where do you live?” she inquired of me.
“Oh, I live here, with Lola.”
“Is this your apartment?” she asked, a little surprised.
“I share it with Lo,” I said, matter-of-factly.
“Just you two?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, I didn’t mean to snoop or pry, but I couldn’t help seeing all those photos of you two inside.”
“We make a great couple, don’t you think?”
I could see her effervescence flattening as she continued learning about us.
“Does she have a boyfriend?” she asked, clearly disturbed by what she had seen.
“Many,” I replied, truthfully. “And a few girlfriends too.”
Now I could see the wheels turning. She was wondering if I was misunderstanding her questions. Maybe I was so old that I wasn’t clear what she was trying to get at, she thought.
Just then, Lo came over to me and slid her arm around my waist. “What are you two talking about?” she asked, giving me a kiss on the lips to emphasize to Ell Lo’s complete ownership of me.
Ell seemed to blanch.
“We were just talking about you and all your boyfriends and girlfriends,” I said.
Lo let out a little laugh and said, in a show of confidential solidarity with Ell, “He’s very good to me. He lets me do whatever I want.”
“I see,” was all Ell could muster.
“The bedroom has had a lot less traffic since the pandemic, but every once in a while she still asks that I sleep on the couch to allow her and her lover some privacy.”
“And a bed,” said Lo, confused by Ell’s outrage. “Only I’m allowed to play. He’s not.”
“That’s fine by me,” I said, with a wink to Ell, “with a beauty like Lola, it would be a sin to keep her all to myself. But she always asks permission first.”
“He’s so paternalistic,” commented Lo, “But that’s ok by me, because of my daddy issues.” Lo let out a little laugh as if it were a joke with a hint of seriousness, but poor Ell was horrified.
“I, I, I think I have to get going.”
“So soon?” asked Lo. “We haven’t even gotten started yet.”
Ell walked over to Gary.
“Strange girl,” remarked Lo.
“Yes, but cute,” I said to get Lo’s goat.
She elbowed me playfully in the stomach.
“Keep it in your pants, old man,” Lo said, “she’s in high school.”
“Like you have the moral high-ground in that regard.”
“Whatever. If you want her, you can have her. I’m much better and badder.”
“Oh Darling, you know I’m only teasing you.”
“Such a big tease,” Lo said sarcastically.
“Speaking of tease, I guess I should also let you in on something.”
“What’s that?”
“Ell thinks I’m your father, not your lover.”
“What?!”
“Or, rather, I guess she now thinks that I’m your father and your lover.”
“Oh boy! That’s why she had to leave so quickly.”
“Yep.”
Roy, Gary, and Ell were sitting together on one side of the small backyard patio, while Meri and her son were on the other side. Lo and I were by the grill. We knew something had to be done to get these groups to mingle more.
Just then, to my great surprise, Lily made an appearance in our backyard, sans Jim. I had no idea she was invited. Was she?
In any case, this new addition served a convenient purpose. Lily’s stag arrival allowed her to mingle within and among the three distinct groups of people: the brothers and Ell; MILF Meri and her son; Lo and me. However, it also made Lo and Meri’s design a little more complicated, for the brothers were captivated by Lily’s beauty and, I surmise, her wedding band. She was off limits and that is always an attractive feature in a person.
I found out later that Lo had told Lily about our Labor Day garden party and that Lily was extremely curious to meet all the people Lo had been pleasing during the pandemic. But she was not sure if she would make it since Jim and Lily had another engagement at the same time. It so turned out that Jim was enjoying himself there more than Lily and so Lily politely excused herself to inspect Lo’s summer conquests.
“Maybe we should introduce an ice-breaker party game?” I suggested to Lo.
“What did you have in mind?”
“We could play find the hidden dildo?”
“That wouldn’t work. Too many dildos lying around the house.”
“Even better – everyone can be a winner!”
“How about Pin the Butt-plug on the Mommy?”
“MILF Meri?”
“The only mommy here.”
“Sounds like it would take too much skill.”
“Any other ideas?” she asked.
“Each of the women has to hold a beer bottle in her cleavage and pour a sip into a guy’s mouth.”
“You’ve got some perverted ideas,” she said. “And I like them all. But that wouldn’t work. Ell over there is no more than an A-cup.”
We compromised and chose “Heads-Up!” – the charades game you can play using a smart phone.
Lo chose teams: MILF Meri and Gary, Roy and Lola, Lily and me, Ell and Meri’s son.
We played for a little while and as the adult beverages began to work their magic on the adults at the garden party, Meri became gradually more comfortable with Gary and attempted to engage his brother Roy. Lily and I played nice, but she knew I was off limits and was more interested in teasing out the brothers, creating conflict and friction with Meri. Finally, Ell and Meri’s son couldn’t have been more awkward together.
We only played a couple of rounds and it became quite clear that Meri and Gary were the hands-down winners of this game. When it was over, the purpose of the game proved a success – the various parties were mingling and getting to know each other better.
To my consternation, after Lo went inside to prepare dessert, Meri’s son approached me. He hadn’t said a word to me the entire time. Not even a hello. But now he walked up to me and looked starstruck.
“Did you really go to Japan?” he asked. No introduction. No small-talk.
“Yes,” I said, politely.
“And studied in a Zen a monastery?”
“That’s right.”
I’m not one to toot my own horn, but he approached me like I was a famous explorer or a celebrity.
“I want to do that someday.”
“I’m sure you will,” I said, mindlessly.
“And Lo really fucked all those guys there?”
He had blurted it out as if it was common knowledge.
“Where’d you hear that?” I asked.
“The blog! And the books!” he said enthusiastically.
“Shhhhh,” I said, pulling him closer to me in confidence. “Look, it’s all well and good that you know about the blog and have dotingly read every story, but not everyone here knows about it,” I said, looking around at our guests. “And some of the people here are in the blog.” Namely: Roy, Gary, and Lily. Now we can add Ell to the list of characters, I suppose.
“Oh,” he said, comprehending the need for secrecy. “Well, I guess I just wanted to say, uh, that, I really admire you.”
“Thanks kid. Good to hear,” I said, feeling like Hemingway.
At the same time Lily had begun to make conversation with Ell. As I cooked, I eavesdropped. I don’t know how they got on the topic, but Lily was telling Ell about her time in New York City.
“When I lived there,” she was saying, “I was in a thruple.”
“What’s that?” asked the naïve Ell.
“Well, in my case, it was an older married couple. They took me into their place. I had my own bedroom and when either the husband or the wife needed more sexually, they’d page me. I’d go into the bedroom and service whichever one had need of me. Sometimes both, but not often.”
Ell’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. Lily was bragging, but trying to play it as if it were nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary.
“Some nights she wasn’t in the mood, so he’d call me in to help him. Other nights he might have fucked her, but came too early, so I’d use my mouth on her until she was satisfied.”
“What about you?” asked Ell, engrossed by this alternate lifestyle as if hearing for the first time about an alternate universe.
“Me? Oh, I got a lot of pleasure from it. I’m like Lo in that way. I enjoy pleasing others.”
“Like fucking them?” asked Ell.
“Yeah. But, with me, I’m chaste.”
Now Ell’s mind looked as if it was about to explode.
“What?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’m what’s known as A.O.L. – anal only lifestyle.”
“So he’d fuck you in the. . .”
“Well, not always,” said Lily nonchalantly. “Sometimes he would bind my hands behind my back and my ankles together, have me sit kajira, and fuck my mouth.”
“Kajira? What is that? A Japanese term?”
“No, Gorean.”
“What?”
I could see that Ell was in for an education in the subtleties of fantasy fiction fan sexual positions, so I made my way over to Meri on the pretense of offering to refill her glass. She was busy trying to entice both Gary and Roy into her den of maternal delights by speaking to them about sports, specifically hockey, as she feigned not knowing how much cleavage she was showing. I saw the brothers struggling to keep eye contact with her while they desired to look down the V-neck opening of her tank top. Simultaneously, the slit of her skirt was sliding further and further up her left leg, revealing just about everything, including her pantiless crotch.
I indicated that I would like to pour her some more wine. She didn’t even look up at me. She just waved her hand toward her glass, as if I were a waiter and she was indicating a refill. She had the boys and she knew it. She wasn’t going to let anything interrupt the seduction.
Everything seemed to be going fine and now that the awkward introductions were over and we were well past the getting-to-know-you period, time sped by. Before any of us knew it, the sun had begun to go down and we had seamlessly transitioned from an afternoon lunch to thoughts about dinner. No one wanted the party to end, especially since, due to lock-down and COVID, we had not spent time with this many other people in a long time.
Lo and I, reading the crowd, but lacking the provisions, discussed what to do. We finally turned it over to our guests, letting them know that they were welcome to stay, but that we didn’t have enough food for dinner.
Sexy Sushi
After a bit of discussion, Meri suggested Sushi. She said she’d pay for it and the Grubhub delivery. Everyone gave Meri their orders and she took care of it. After she was done with the extensive list that must have cost her over $200.00, she said, half jokingly, “We should make Nyotaimori of it.”
“What?” asked some of our guests.
“Nyotaimori,” she repeated, explaining, “You know, body sushi.”
Most people still looked confused.
“It’s an ancient Japanese tradition of serving sushi on a naked body – a woman’s body, traditionally, but it could be a man’s, I guess.”
“Ewww, that’s gross,” blurted out Ell.
“I think it’s sensual,” replied Lily. “For a lot of people, the closest they come to embodied existence is eating, and even then they do it mindlessly. This tradition really drives home the experience of living in the flesh.”
“Maybe it drives it too close to home,” added one of the brothers.
“Do we want to try this?” asked Meri, persistent and clearly eager to do it.
“Who would be the, er, serving table?” asked Ell nervously.
“The host should, of course,” responded Meri, quick to volunteer Lola.
“Oh, I don’t think you want to see me naked,” I chimed in, playfully.
“I wasn’t talking about. . .” began Meri, before she realized I was just joking.
“I’m game,” said Lo. “Luckily I showered and shaved just before you all got here. Hun,” she said to me, “will you light the firepit?”
“Sure.”
It was a warm evening, but Lo loves the ambiance of a firepit. Lighting it wasn’t a problem since it was a propane fueled fire. Living in the city, we couldn’t have a wood-fueled firepit. We’re lucky to have a postage stamp sized backyard.
Lo went inside, stripped, put on a bathrobe, grabbed a couple of rarely used blankets, and returned to our company outside. She spread the blankets on the long-neglected picnic bench and the brothers and I lifted it and moved it to the center of the yard.
Not much later, Meri’s phone alerted her that the food would be delivered momentarily. She told Lo, who went around front to greet the delivery boy. He had stopped on the street in front of the apartment building and got out with the large bag of food. He was about to go in the front door when he saw Lo saunter up the side of the building in her white, plush, terrycloth robe. He looked startled.
“I’ll take that,” said Lo.
“Meri?” he asked, making sure he was delivering the food to the right person.
“Yes,” replied Lo.
He passed her the bag. Lo reached out for it, allowing her robe to open slightly in the front, revealing her nakedness.
He cast his eyes away as he scurried off like a frightened deer. Lo chuckled. She returned to the crowd in the back.
“Food’s on!” she called, adding, “On me!”
Lo slowly removed her robe and passed it to Roy as she climbed naked up and onto the flat surface of the picnic table covered by the blankets.
While Lo was getting the food, Meri had gone inside to grab a head of lettuce from the fridge.
“The proper way to do this,” she said, authoritatively, “is to place a leaf of lettuce under each piece of food in order to prevent contact between food and skin.”
“Very sanitary,” whispered Ell under her breath sarcastically.
“It actually is quite sanitary. I had the pleasure of being exposed to this time-honored tradition when I was in Japan many years ago.”
At this point, Lo was the one being ‘exposed’ to the tradition. She was lying, baring all, on the table and looked, if I do say so, good enough to eat.
Meri took the lead and said to Lo, “You’re going to have to lie perfectly still. Very shallow breathing. No sudden moves. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” replied Lo, a little nervous. It was a lot of sushi that rested literally on her shoulders, and other body parts.
Meri placed the lettuce leaves down on Lo’s body, strategically – breasts, navel, the two corners of her Delta of Venus. She placed a few more on her legs, and in between the other cardinal points. Then she began to arrange the sushi pieces delicately on their little lettuce plates. She arranged the soy sauce, ginger, and wasabi on the table, next to Lo.
“Who’s first?” she asked, handing out chopsticks.
Before anyone could answer, Meri turned to me and said, “I think, as co-host of this evening, you should do the honors.”
I took the chopsticks and found a succulent, deep red slice of tuna sashimi resting right over the topmost part of Lo’s slit.
Picking it up with dexterity, I dipped in the soy sauce and ate it all. It was fabulous!
Others followed suit. Ell notably refrained with a disgusted look on her face. She tried to prevent Gary from indulging, but was completely ineffective.
Perhaps the most notable aspect of this cross-cultural culinary immersion was its lack of eroticism. At least that was my experience of it. Lo was so focused on her breath and remaining still that it was more like a meditation session than a sensual, sexual foray in exhibitionism. The guests were careful to grasp their food in their chopsticks without incident to such an extent that they hardly noticed the body upon which they feasted. It was only, perhaps, in between bites that one could take in the whole scene and even then, there was so little action on the part of Lo that her seductive charm seemed dormant.
The one aspect of it that did particularly strike a chord for me was that this form of hospitality yoked Lo’s two great loves: stylishly satisfying her guests’ appetite for food and elegantly gratifying her lovers’ desire for her body.
When we were all done feasting, and Meri had even popped a few sushi rolls in Lo’s mouth so that the conduit of the cuisine wouldn’t go hungry herself, Lo asked, “Anyone for dessert?” as she spread her legs and scooched down to the edge of the table.
Gary had his girlfriend, Ell, to keep him in line.
Meri thought it might appear unseemly to partake of Lo’s parted pussy lips in front of her son.
Roy seemed vicariously inhibited by his brother’s girlfriend’s harsh judgment.
Lily, though open-minded, preferred thick cock in her ass to giving oral pleasure.
That left Meri’s son. Maybe he was intent on making his mother jealous after all of her overt interest in the two boys where were just slightly older than he. Maybe he was tired of being the background wallpaper to his mother’s grab for attention. Who knows, but after approaching the table, bashfully, he stepped up and indulged exactly the way Lo had taught him on their camping excursion earlier that summer.
Lo’s hands held on to the side of the table as she let him lap her up like a thirsty dog sloppily licking every last bit from his water bowl.
Meri stood at the opposite end of the table and fondled Lo’s breasts, pulling and tugging at her nipples. Eventually she alighted on a creative way to inflict more intense pain. She picked up a couple of chopsticks and turned them into a miniature vice in which she trapped Lo’s nipples and twisted them in the primitive torture implements.
Predictably, Lo came and came a lot all over Meri’s son’s eager and enthusiastic mouth, to such a point that his shirt was soaked from the collar to the navel. Her climactic ejaculation was a revelation to Ell who, if she had ever had heard rumor of such a thing, certainly had never witnessed it.
When the waterworks were complete, Lo slowly got up from the table and found her way to a chair by the fire. She sat, her bare legs crossed, her head drooping back, as she breathed heavily, catching her breath, causing her exposed chest to heave up and down. Her nipples were erect and red with the results of Meri’s sadism and from them all the way up to her face her complexion was flush with the rush of blood following her orgasm.
Nipple Twist
Everyone sat staring at the Sushi Strumpet until I interrupted their gawking disbelief with an offer to refresh their glasses or grab them a drink.
Lo asked for a tall glass of ice water.
The night continued on with polite conversation as Lo sat among our circle around the fire, nude among the other clothed guests. Occasionally she got up to get something or use the bathroom and her entrances and exits were dramatic by design.
Eventually our guests began to file out, beginning with the brothers and Ell, who had to be home early, so she said.
Then, seeing the night had reached its apex, Lily bade us all a good night.
Lastly, Meri and her son said they were off to their sleepy suburban home.
This left just Lo and me to clean up and, let’s be real, Lo wasn’t going to clean up anything. She went into bed and said she’d welcome me there when I was done.
I found her with her legs spread wide saying, “Oh, Daddy. Have me.”
There’s a deep, hidden connection between feasting and fucking, I thought. It is not coincidental that the early Christian Eucharist was an orgiastic experience. Feasting on the flesh, sacrificing the body to the spirit, elevating the soul through the nourishment of the corporeal house in which it lives, communing with the Holy Spirit through a physical act – all of these could be viewed as metaphors and substitutes for the sacred act of carnal connection and the interrelatedness of all life through the hollowed act of ingestion. Man/Woman, Life/Death, Self/Other, Sacred/Profane, High/Low, Animal/Divine – all these pairs become intertwined and indistinct in and through the dual acts of copulation and ingestion. Two uniting into one. One becoming two. The interplay of all things in the divine dance of a match: a fading cinder; a spritely spark. They come together and form a fire that radiates light and warmth, around which the ever-widening concentric circles of the world emanate out toward a horizon whose circumference is nowhere and center everywhere.
The union of all things
Penny & Lola
“Penny for your thoughts,” I said to Lo.
“Actually, Penny is all for your thoughts.”
“What?”
“Penny xox – an OnlyFans content creator. She’s loving Match, Cinder & Spark, Volume V: Shorter Shorts.”
“How do you know?”
“Take a look for yourself.”
Lo showed me some of Penny’s sexy “May is Masturbation Month” promotional photos.
“Wow!” I said, “Photogenic.”
“You don’t mind if I have a little Masturbation Month time before May, do you Daddy?” asked Lo as she reached under her jeans and began sliding her fingers up and down her crotch.
Penny xox
“I’ll leave you and Penny to enjoy each other.”
“Good, because I already got my subscription to her page.”
“Of course you did,” I said.
“We sex goddesses have to support each other.”
“Indeed,” I said as I went to leave the bedroom and close the door behind me.
“You can leave it open,” she said, just to rub it in, so to speak. She likes for me to hear the pleasure she gives herself when getting off to other people.
Ten minutes later, she sauntered into the living room, pantless, wearing just her t-shirt.
“Feeling better?”
“I’m ready for you now, Daddio.”
She bent over by the window, looking outside as the Sunday strollers sauntered by on the sunlit sidewalk.
Her hands were resting on the windowsill and she looked over her shoulder at me. “Well? Are you going to fuck me?”
“Do you want me or do you just want to be fucked?”
“Is there a difference?”
“That’s cruel.”
“I mean, I want to be fucked by you.”
“Me specifically, or would anyone do?”
“Are we playing Twenty Questions, or are you going to penetrate my wet pussy?”
“For you, fucking is a physical act. For me, I take pleasure in the cerebral interplay of personalities.”
“Well, you’re not going to get any play – cerebral or corporeal – if you keep talking.”
“And you’re going to get nothing but corporal punishment,” I said, as I took out my belt.
“I don’t know why you’re punishing me, but I like it,” she said, preparing for her lashing.
SMACK! – I gave her one strike across her bum. She didn’t cry out.
SMACK!! – I gave her another. She made a little peep in the back of her throat with her mouth closed. Her head bobbed up a bit as she vocalized the yipe.
SMACK!!! – I gave her a third, much harder than the first two.
“YEOW!” she cried out through the screen of the window. People on the street certainly heard her. Admirably, her hands remained on the sill.
I stood behind her. I entered her red bum. She let out a gasp of delight.
“Penny will be pleased,” she said.
Penny and Match, Cinder & Spark
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“She’s married, has two teenage sons, and her greatest thrill is turning people on.”
“Just to be clear,” I said, “you turn me on.”
“Oh, I know that. But she turned me on. You’re just reaping the rewards.”
“Looks like we both are reaping a pretty good return on just one penny,” I said as she began to squirt, her legs buckling as she bit down on her lower lip.
She had to jump off my cock and she squeezed her legs together as tightly as she could, futilely trying to stem the stream of satisfaction. Within moments she screamed as her ejaculate puddled around her bare feet on the hardwood floor.
“Looks like it’s raining,” I said.
“Penny’s from heaven,” she concluded.
Check out Penny’s OnlyFans page
Looks like Penny could use a spanking too
Feisty Married Couple Getting Off to Lola Together
“When are you going to publish something new?” asked Lola.
“For a nympho going through a dry patch, you sure have kept me busy with new material,” I responded.
“Dry patch! That’s the worst sort of insult you can levy at a nympho.”
“Well, I mean, you keep complaining that COVID is impeding your libido, but you have me wearing my fingers to the bone typing about you and MILF Meri, you and the brothers, you and your internet fans, you and your new dates, you and. . .”
“Don’t forget me and myself and I.”
“Your favorite three-some!”
“Well, why don’t you finger me and then we’ll bone. That sounds like more fun.”
“I thought you wanted me to post new stories.”
“It’s not me, Darling, it’s my fans. They are clamoring for more stories from the elusive, aloof, and elite author.”
“It’s not easy to keep up with the demand.”
“You’re telling me.”
“Do they want quantity or quality?”
“In my book, quantity is quality.”
“I’m talking about writing, not fucking. And furthermore, you know that’s not true, in your book or any other book.”
“Well, a little more quantity would help.”
“Are you talking about writing or fucking, Lo?”
“If I put your computer on my back, couldn’t we multi-task? You write while you fuck?”
“You’re absurd!”
“Absurdist literature worked for the Surrealists.”
“Do I look like a Surrealist to you?”
“More like Magic Realism.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“I’m the magic, you make it real.”
“You know our world is going through a cataclysmic upheaval, a clash of epochs, a seismic shift, and you’re complaining about not getting fucked often enough.”
“Or long enough. Or deep enough. Or passionately enough.”
“I think you’re missing the point.”
“I am! I am! Give me the point, Daddy! I’m missing it so much!”
“This is no laughing matter.”
“I’m not laughing, I’m begging. A quicky. A fast fuck. A finger fuck. Anything.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I said looking up from my computer.
“Yes, Daddio,” she said batting her eyelashes at me.
“I just transcribed this little conversation. I’ll post it today. No rewrite or review, no context or explanation.”
“Well, our readers might enjoy it, but what about my puss? Your words are not flesh, no matter how delusional you are about your godlike qualities.”
“Get in the bedroom, spread your legs, and I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Promise.”
“Solemnly swear.”
She stood up and, in a deep voice said, “Fuck.”
“What was that?”
“I swore solemnly. Now you’ll fuck me.”
Lo Pleases the Lady of the House
Blow with Lo
Hey Friends, Fans, and Fiends out there! As you all know, we had a Valentine’s Day promotion to help people through the difficult times of COVID-19. We sent a free copy of our books to fans and all we asked in return was that they send back some sexy photos of themselves with our book strategically placed. Well, the friends with benefits program is paying off. We are pleased – very pleased – to help promote some of our fans with a Twitter “OnlyFans” account and also present to you other, non-professional, fans who wrote back to us.
First we have the sexy Samantha Massie, a.k.a. Southernbella1. She is a real Southern belle, hailing from Georgia, raised in a very proper Christian household, she and her hubby, Justin, have three young kids. Though she’s a certified medical assistant (CMA), she’s trying to make ends meet for the family and to earn enough to go back to college to get her registered nursing degree. After she asked her friend and professional photographer, Dan, to take some boudoir photos of her as a gift to her hubby, he liked what he saw so much that he encouraged Samantha to monetize her assets on Twitter. He suggested posting sexy nudes on her OnlyFans page (southernbella1). He fully supports her in this and, who knows, maybe even wants her to be a hotwife someday like me! Please go out and support Samantha and her college goals and her family by subscribing to her Twitter OF page. You will be very glad you did!!!
We will be having more of our promotional stars soon. Write in to us if you would like to be on the list for our May is Masturbation Month promotion!!! downloladown@gmail.com
Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark
Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark
Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark
Samantha Massie and Match, Cinder & Spark
Samantha Massie
Samantha’s sexy feet
Samantha Massie
Samantha Massie
[Dear Lovlies, this story was published in the February 2021 issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. If you would like to get your free Match, Cinder & Spark book, send us an email at: downloladown@gmail.com]
“Well, Darling, I guess it’s just you and me: Santa and his little sexy elf,” I said to her as she snuggled up to me under my arm on the couch. She was still wearing her sleek red dress and nothing else. We had the fire going (on the T.V. thanks to Netflix).
Lola’s Good Cheer
“It was a nice day,” she said, a touch of melancholy in her voice.
We both knew it wasn’t like Christmases past. It was COVID Christmas. No kissing friends and strangers under the mistletoe or unwrapping presents with a large crowd looking on to see your reaction to their gift.
We had spent the day delivering goodies to friends and family, driving all around town, making stops from noon until nine at night. Each stop was accompanied by a little chat outside in the brisk air with a shot or two to warm us up. It was good to see familiar faces and bring them gifts, even if we couldn’t hug, kiss, dance, or sit in their comfortable living rooms for some schnapps and grog.
We were determined to make the day as special as we could. Now that we were home (and a little tipsy) I told her she could look under the tree to see what Santa had brought for her.
“Have you been naughty or nice?” I asked.
“Which gets me more gifts?” she asked as she rummaged under the tree and found the little box I had carefully hidden.
She immediately knew what it was. She opened it extremely carefully. The diamond ring was illuminated by a tiny light that automatically turned on when the ring box was opened. It looked magical in the dimly lit room. The cute case glowed with an aura of heavenly mystique.
“Oh Daddy!” she said, giving me a big kiss. “How did you know?”
She was being very facetious since she had designed the piece of jewelry, ordered it, and tracked its delivery. All I did was pass her my credit card and then wrap it when it arrived.
“Is there anything there for me?” I asked.
“Yes, there is. Wait here and come into the bedroom when I call you.”
A few moments went by before her sing-song voice invited me in.
She was wearing a new red satin negligée. “My Santa suit. Second only to my birthday suit.” She spread her legs to reveal that she also had shaved.
Lola’s present for Daddy
“No more Hannukah bush?” I asked.
“You know what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“Hair today, gone tomorrow.”
“You’ve been hanging around me too long. Leave the puns to dads who like dad jokes.”
“Do you like, Daddy?” she asked as she gently tugged at her pussy lips.
“Very much.”
“You’re not hard to please. You know that?”
“Yes, but when you please me, I am hard.”
“Show me! Let me drink your eggnog.”
“Your ring looks good on your finger,” I remarked as she stroked herself.
“Yes, now maybe you’ll make me a proper hotwife!”
“Oh no, Lo. I can’t make a descent woman out of you. You’ve spent a lifetime cultivating being an indecent woman.”
“True. But you know, either way, I’m happy. Deep, deep inside, I’m happy. And you can be too.”
“Be happy?”
“No, deep, deep inside me.”
She stood up from the bed, bent over, and looked at her exposed rear in the full-length mirror behind her. “It’s weird,” she said, “how horny I get looking at myself naked.”
I have to admit, she had me excited just looking at her like that.
I fumbled to remove my pants as she pouted, “Daddy, I just can’t wait.”
As swiftly as I could, I slid into her impatient peonies petals, already wet with dew.
Within moments she sensed the inevitable and spun around in order to receive her reward.
Though that may have been my climax, it is not the climax of our story.
Drunk on my cum, she looked up at me and asked, “Which part did you like the most: the first ten seconds or the last ten seconds?”
“Hey, I might have been fast, but what or who can give that much pleasure in so short a time?”
“Are you talking about my ability to give pleasure or yours? Never mind. I’ll show you what can give even more pleasure,” she said as she reached under the bed to take out her Hitachi.
Lo gushes for her mechanical lover
As she was on her solo journey to Pleasure Town, I pulled out my laptop and read a few emails written to our shared downloladown account. There were a number of thank you notes from the men, women, and couples who had received our “XXX-mas” gifts – a free Match, Cinder & Spark book or audiobook.
It was nice to hear from our fans that we helped cheer them up in this otherwise dismal time.
After Lo had ‘spouted off’ in the best possible way, she sat up to look over my shoulder. Glancing at the screen, I sensed she was a bit disappointed.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“No, it’s something Lo. What is it?”
“Just the thought that put me over the edge was that you were looking at photos of me, not reading emails.”
“Well, it’s the next-best-thing. They’re emails about you. Besides, why would I look at photos of you on my computer when you’re lying next to me vibrating your va-jay-jay till the levee breaks?”
“Exactly! And why would you be reading emails when you have this at your disposal?!” she said, slapping her sloppy puss for emphasis.
Changing the subject slightly, I asked, “Do you think it was egomaniacal of me to give my own books as a Christmas gift?”
“I think it’s egomaniacal of you to write those books.”
“That wasn’t egomaniacal. That was a gift to humanity.”
“Never have I seen such a self-satisfied narcissist!”
“Didn’t you just look in the mirror?”
“Shut up and pass me Glindo,” she said, referring to her glass dildo that was next to me on the nightstand.
Lo and ‘Glindo’
“Why? What are you up to now?” I asked, seeing her with her legs spread wide on the bed, dildo in hand.
“Nothing, but I’m open to doing something.”
“What are you open to doing?”
“You.”
“Now?”
“Well, after I do myself.”
“Again?”
Never one for false modesty, she implored, “Read to me some of the things people are saying about the book.”
“While you jill it?”
“Yeah, it’s a turn-on to know that I get guys hard and women wet.”
“Well, one person called you a slut and said that you do all this just for attention.”
“That is not true,” she said emphatically, “being a slut is its own reward.”
“You could call the attention a fringe benefit.”
She was too busy now to laugh at my pun.
Overcome by her perspicuous paramour, Lo lunged forward with a long, lusty moan.
As she recovered from her self-inflicted squirt, I asked her, “Do you think we should do it again for Valentine’s Day?”
“I’m hoping we’ll do it long before then!”
“I mean a free book for fans.”
“Oh,” she said, realizing her mistake. “Sure. Maybe we could ask our readers to send in their Valentine’s Day stories and send a free book to the top ten that we publish.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Photos are also welcome,” she added. “Now do me, Daddy. I’ve only had two orgasms tonight and you know I need at least three.”
“Lo, you really are a slut for attention!”
“I got 99 problems, but being a slut ain’t one.”
Be My Valentine
We watched Boogie Nights up until the scene where the newbie pornstar, Dirk Diggler (Mark Wahlberg) is filmed by the seasoned director, Jack Horner (Burt Reynolds), making love to his wife, Maggie/“Amber Waves” (Julianne Moore). At that point, Lo was too turned on from watching the movie while cock-warming me to continue. We retired into the bedroom where she proceeded to ask me, “I bet you’d like to film me auditioning all those men who want to be pornstars, wouldn’t you Daddy?”
“I thought you were sore?” I asked her, referring to her masturbation marathon earlier in the day.
“Sore, but not satisfied. Fuck me. I like it when it hurts.”
I slid in her slippery snatch and she moaned with pleasure and pain.
“I think you’d like to be auditioning them,” I responded to her.
By the way her eyes rolled to the back of her head, I could tell that the image of her being the older seductress, seducing young, aspiring actors, getting them to break through the role and into the authentic enjoyment of her body, was turning her on.
While her fantasyland role was screening in the adult theater of her dark and dirty mind, my own thoughts were scrawling across my cerebrum. Since I had cum on my own earlier that day, my stamina was augmented. I had plenty of time, while Lo bounced up-and-down on my rod to the beat of her own drum, to explore the following musings.
I began with Boogie Nights and the thought of how, yes, Lo was right, I could easily see myself in the role of the director, Jack Horner, filming his own wife as she slept with various pornstars. Turning her lustful liaisons into works of art was already my forte. My mind then turned to the late, great Orson Welles and his love affair infatuation with Oja – his muse, mistress, and movie star of films such as F for Fake, and The Other Side of the Wind. A documentary about the making of the latter movie came out a couple years ago and in it, those who were on set with Welles recalled how he wanted to film, at great length, a pornographic sex scene starring Oja with Robert Random (actual actor’s name). Perhaps the aging Welles (he was between 55 and 61 while making it) took delight in seeing his young mistress (she was between 24 and 30 while making it) getting delight from a younger man who could give it to her. Sounds familiar.
“Deeper, Daddy, please,” she whined as she rode me, startling me out of my musings.
I opened my eyes and saw her pulling at her nipples over me. “Am I your pornstar?” she asked.
I tried to meet her descending hips with ascending thrusts of my own. She needed to feel the tip of my shaft on that magic spot deep inside her. If I were larger, longer, harder, I would press that button without even trying. But, alas, that was not the case.
Frankie Shaw
Frankie Shaw
Frankie Shaw using her Instagram to expose herself
Her question turned my thoughts from directors making their muses the material of art, to that wannabe pornstar who used her creative powers of writer, director, and actor to live out her clear fantasy of being fucked on camera. Frankie Shaw, in her series SMILF, used every opportunity to get naked, get laid, and get herself off in her show. I wondered how her husband, Zach Strauss, enjoyed watching her perform completely gratuitous sex scenes on the show. Let’s be clear, none of her sexpoloits were essential to the story – from her fantasy gangbang in the pilot where she is fucked by a basketball team of black men, to her seducing the boy she babysat, to the creepy scenes of her naked in a bathtub with her fictional child. None of that advanced the plot in a way that it couldn’t have done without those scenes. But, given the creative license she had, she used it to be as licentious as she could, making her the star – the pornstar.
Frankie Shaw from her Instagram being exhibitionist in her neighborhood during COVID
Lo wasn’t cumming. She got up, off of me and commanded, “Get behind me and fuck me, hard!” She was on all fours on the bed and needed me to stand up, perpendicular to her, as she looked in the full-length mirror before her, watching us fuck, as she might watch a porno.
“Come on, Daddio! Really ram it home,” she called over her shoulder.
I thrust at her with all I had. I was panting, sweating, wondering if my back was going to be sore for a week.
Mercifully, she began to cum. I could feel her pussy clenching, preparing to eject me and ejaculate. Her voice was insistent. “Cum! Cum!” she demanded, knowing that there were mere seconds left before I wouldn’t be able to remain deep inside her.
Enjoy your erotic reading.
“Where do you want me to cum?”
“Inmeinmeinmeinme!”
I don’t do well with cumming on command. If she had said, “Whatever you do, don’t cum,” then there would have been no problem. Besides, I had, at her recommendation, already cum once that day. I was near my limit.
Frankie Shaw gets nailed by the boy she baby sat in SMILF
It was already too late. The torrent had been unleashed. The spillage had gushed down her legs and now the dam was about to break, flooding me right out of her.
Frankie Shaw stars in a porno
Her legs were quivering and she was pounding the bed with her fist as she screamed “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”
I backed up and watched the demonic possession take hold as she lost control of her faculties, senses, bodily movements, and sanity.
Her orgasms are simultaneously a full-body and out-of-body experience. They are sublime to watch, in the full sense of that word: terrifyingly beautiful.
The bed covers were drenched; her body lifeless on top of the mess she had made.
Frankie dreams of Lola
Scene from SMILF
Not necessary, Right?
How did this get approved?
Slowly, her breathing steadied and resumed regularity.
She rolled over as if she had been hit by a Mac truck.
“Wow!” was all she said. And then, a little while later, “I won’t be able to walk, sit, or cross my legs tomorrow!”
Frankie Shaw getting off to Lola Down
“I guess you’ll just have to lie in bed all day.”
“That’s ok, it’s my favorite place to be and my favorite position.”
She got off the bed and began cleaning up the sodden bedding, throwing all of it in the laundry basket.
“Feeling better?”
“You didn’t cum,” she had the gall to complain.
“I did, just not with you.” I knew that remark would piss her off.
She gritted her teeth and growled at me.
“You told me to fuck Stoya, remember?”
“But on these short days in January, I really needed an injection of vitamin D, if you know what I mean.”
“It would have just come out in the wash anyhow.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
She thought for a moment. “I like to have the power to make you ejaculate on command.”
“Talk about a control freak. I did ejaculate on command – your first command. You told me to jack off while you masturbated to oblivion.”
“But I thought you knew the Golden Rule: Love thy woman as thyself.”
“Oh, is that the rule? I thought you said it was: Love thyself and often.”
“That’s my rule. Not yours.”
“So, why did you tell me to go away instead of letting me watch?”
“Well, you made me jealous when looking at all those women.”
“You’re the one who wanted to look at them with me!”
“Fiddle-dee-dee,” she said, dismissively. “I wanted to make you jealous.”
“Oh, so it had nothing to do with being turned on by them?”
“There was that too. But now I feel so slutty.”
“You should.”
“No, Daddy. I mean, not only was I cheating on you. . .”
“It’s not really ‘cheating’ if I know about it and condone it.”
“I was corresponding with a guy online.”
“Today?”
“Yeah, well, like every day.”
“And?”
“His name is John. I call him my internet boyfriend.”
“I think you mentioned him to me.”
“And I was cheating on him with another guy. Or maybe I was cheating on the other guy with John. I don’t know. It all gets so confusing.”
“Let me see your other boyfriends.”
She showed me their cumtribute photos.
“Looks like I have stiff competition!”
Lola
Lo and I were in the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. She was looking at her phone. I sat with my laptop open, reading emails, when suddenly, up popped an email in our shared account. Unlike most of our fan mail, it wasn’t directed to Lo, it was addressed to me. And it had a few photos attached. Sexy photos. Of my female fan.
“What are you looking at?” Lo asked, never one to be unobservant.
“Nothing,” I clumsily lied.
“What do you mean nothing?”
“Just an email,” I said, telling the truth, trying to pass it off as nothing.
“Let me see,” she said, scooting over, closer to me, suspicious.
How does she do that? How does she know when something is amiss?
My heart was racing. She gets so jealous.
There was nothing to do but give in to the inevitable.
I showed her the email and the photos.
“Nothing huh? Who is she?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. Just a fan. A connoisseur of fine literature. A grateful reader. A woman of exquisite taste in art.”
“You really don’t know who she is?”
“I swear.”
“She just wrote to you for the first time?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t carried on a correspondence with her?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“You like her?”
“What do you mean, like her?”
“You find her attractive?”
That is a very dangerous question. The female author of the epistle in question was, in point of fact, appealing. As her missive made clear, she was a wife and mother whose sex life had fallen fallow in the past few years as the children occupied more of her time and energy. But reading about my sex life with Lola had rekindled something deep down inside her and she just wanted to show me exactly where it was rekindled.
“She’s not unattractive,” I said, attempting to be as neutral as possible.
“Let’s play a little game,” said Lo. I was quizzical. “I’ll go through photos of our fans and you tell me if you find them sexy. But let’s do it in the bedroom.”
“What?”
“Yeah, just be honest,” she said as she walked down the hall.
“Are you trying to get me deeper in the hole?” I asked, following behind her.
“Depends on which hole you mean.”
GULP.
“Let’s start,” she said as she took out her computer and went to her special stash of emails and photos. She unzipped my pants and grabbed onto my flaccid member as she pulled up photo after photo. Honestly, I was too scared to get hard.
After about five or ten, she paused and looked at me a moment.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Lo, you know perfectly well what’s wrong. For years now, you’ve made the nature of our relationship clear. Now you want me to look at other women? I think that I’m being set-up.”
“No no no,” she said with a smile. “I’m just feeling like changing things up a bit.”
“You know, I could get just as hard looking at photos of men who’ve sent you cumtributes.”
“Well, maybe I’ll throw in a few of those as well. But don’t be bashful. Let’s keep on playing.”
She scrolled through scores of sexy photos and, for each one she gave me a bit of backstory, telling me the names of each woman and a bit of bio.
“That’s Floss,” she said.
“Yes, I know Floss,” I responded as she went through photo after sexy photo of her.
Floss and Match, Cinder & Spark
“And this is Karla.”
“I know Karla too. In fact I wrote about her.”
Just Floss
“Yes, that’s right. Did you know her hubby, Chris, gets off to me when he has her at home?”
Karla and Chris
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
“This is the author, Larry Archer’s wife.”
“Is she a fan?”
“I don’t know, but I’m a fan of hers. . . and his!”
“And this is. . .” The list went on-and-on. With each new set of photos that Lo opened from her password-protected fap file, she grew a little more excited. If she was a guy (and she sure acts like one), she would have had a raging hard-on at this point. I have no doubt that her clit was fully tumid. She was reaching for it.
Karla over the years
Karla’s husband Chris getting off to Lola
“Um, can you give me a minute?” she asked.
“What?”
“Here,” she said, passing me the Stoya Destroya vagina. “You can use this if you want to wank. But only use my photos.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna have me a wank too.”
“But you want me to leave.”
“Yeah, is that ok?”
“Um no. Not really.”
Larry Archer’s wife
“Just give me a little while.”
She got out of bed to escort me to the door as she got out of her clothes. She put her panties on the doorknob as if she had a paramour over, but it was just her and her fingers, toys, and binders full of women.
I went back to the living room, confused, carrying my vagina. Well, Stoya’s vagina. Carrying a vagina.
I returned to the bedroom and knocked on the door furtively.
“What?” she asked, not opening the door.
“Lube,” I said. “You didn’t give me the lube.”
The door opened a crack. I saw her standing naked. She looked good. Her arm extended, dropping the tube of lube in my hands.
“OK?” she asked, shutting the door.
Stoya front, Lola back
I walked away again.
Finding my way onto the couch, I began writing – this story.
Lo’s orgasmic arias were audible throughout the house. They rose and fell, crescendo, decrescendo. So many ups and downs I lost count. I looked at the vagina sitting next to me and said, “It’s bad enough she needs more from me. Don’t you just sit there and look despondent at me that she’s getting all the action. It’s not my fault you don’t have arms, hands, or fingers to help yourself out.”
Finally, I made use of Stoya, more for her sake than mine. She looked so sad there.
I came, one brief onanistic climax, looking at Lo’s photos on the internet while Lo, in the flesh, was having a grand old time fucking herself just down the hallway. I got up to do the proper aftercare cleaning of Stoya in the second bathroom and saw Lo’s panties still prominently displayed on the doorknob as Lo went at it.
I returned to the couch and took a long nap.
I was woken up by the feeling of Lo’s lips on my flaccid cock.
“What are you doing?”
“Cock-warming,” she said as she lay naked on the couch between my legs, looking up at me.
“You want something?”
“No, Daddy.”
“No?”
“I’m sore.”
“What the hell was going on in there?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I started off jilling to the women I was showing you, but then I was into the cumtributes I’ve been getting. I’m such a slut.”
“Agreed.”
“No, you don’t know why I’m saying that.”
“Do tell.”
“Well, I guess it’s bad enough that I am not faithful to you.”
“I don’t mind. . . usually.”
“But I have a sort of internet boyfriend.”
“What is that?”
“You know, like a work wife or a work husband.”
“You mean when people become overly chummy with people they work with?”
“Yeah, like that, but in my case, it’s with people I’ve met online.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I’ve been cheating on one of them with another guy.”
“I’m sure they don’t expect monogamy from you, dear.”
“Yeah, they’re both married themselves.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“That’s just it!”
“What?”
“Do you think I have a problem?”
“Other than being a nymphomaniacal, egomaniacal hotwife attention whore?”
“Yeah, other than that.”
“No, not at all.”
“Really?”
John Doe shrine to Lola
“If your biggest problem is that you’re sexting with someone behind the back of your long-distance lover while shutting me out of the bedroom so you can fist-fuck yourself because you’re turned on by your fandom, well, hey, we all should be that lucky!”
John Doe gets of to Lo
“I love you, Daddy,” she said, before returning to cock-warming me.
“Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure. What?”
Northerngentleman
“How about Boogie Nights? Have you ever seen it?”
Northerngentleman cums in his wife’s panties.
“No.”
“Oh, then you’re in for a treat.”
As she made the ‘OK’ sign with her index finger and thumb, my hard cock filled the hole of that universal hand-gesture that indicates everything is alright. And everything was better than alright. She was lying under my arched, naked body, her left hand doing the bare minimum necessary to still qualify as a hand-job. I was doing most of the work, thrusting in and out of her digital aperture. She was lying naked on her back, her right hand doing more work on her clit than her left on my dick. But, hey, it’s not a competition. I was pleased. She was pleasing – herself and me.
“That’s it, you big, bad dog,” she said in a sultry tone, referencing the taboo topic of her acquired technique.
She knew exactly what that would do to me. She plays me like a fiddle with her nimble fingers, though I’m sure she’d rather play a long, black clarinet that requires both hands to get the proper fingering and also the use of a wet mouth and tongue to blow all those Ds loud and with proper dynamics.
Within seconds my baton was conducting the final climactic notes of this symphony.
As I write these tortured metaphors, I can hear Lo laughing and saying, “Symphony! P’shaw, more like a minuet.”
Be that as it may, she was covered in pearlesque droplets from chin to chest.
Holiday Glaze
I fell back onto the bed, relishing the sweet release she uncorked for me.
But she, rather than lounge in the lethargic bliss I was enjoying, hopped out of bed, put on her jeans and a tank-top, and said, “Do you want to come walk with me?”
Or, at least that’s what I understood her to say. What she actually said was, “Do you want to cum-walk with me?”
“What?” I asked groggily.
“Cum-walk.”
“I don’t want to walk.”
“No, Daddio, a cum-walk.”
“What’s a cum-walk?” I asked, finally understanding what she was articulating.
“It’s like a walk of shame. A stride of pride, a victory lap, the trek of triumph, the Something About Mary hommage,” she said with a French accent.
“Since when is that a thing?”
“Oh, old man, hurry up, get dressed, and I’ll tell you as you accompany my for a strumpet stride through the neighborhood.”
“Ok, ok,” I said, laughing, “You’re killing me with these colorful combinations of colloquialisms for cum.”
“Say that four times fast!”
“Where’d you learn all those?
“Eskimos have forty different words for snow and I. . .”
“Forget it. I don’t want to hear what precipitated your poetic euphemisms.”
When I was dressed, we walked outside, arm-in-arm. She was proud to have the origin of her adornments accompany her as she displayed her latest accomplishment.
She said hello in a flirtatious voice to the others who passed us by on the delightful spring morning. Out of the corner of her eye, she tried to spy if they looked carefully enough to discern what was glinting in the sunlight on her cheek, chin, neck, and shoulder.
“So, when did this become a thing?” I asked again.
“It’s always been a thing. I mean, remember the time at the nude beach when you came all over my face and tits?”
“Which time?”
“Oh, Daddio. The beach with the geriatric gentlemen who genuflected at my altar.”
“Right. Yeah, so?”
“Remember, after you rained your love down on me, we walked together, saying hi to the beachcombers.”
“Yeah, I remember, fondly.”
“And the time I met that very nice athlete in the park.”
“You mean the big black guy who came on you?”
“You have a good memory for an old man.”
“That’s why I write these things down – to keep your paramours straight.”
“Oh, straight is ok, but I prefer kinky paramours.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Anyhow, after he came on me and I walked up to you dripping with his jizz. That also was a cum-walk.”
“I see.”
“Are you going to write about this one?”
“Of course I am, even if no one believes me.”
“They don’t believe you, Daddy?”
“Lo, you can understand that a lot of people find you unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
“Morning,” said a passerby.
“Hi,” Lo chirped back in a perky voice. Her tits were perky too in her see-through white tank-top.
Lo’s braless top
“Getting a lot of looks,” I remarked to her.
“Yeah, but I made the wrong choice.”
“How’s that?”
“They’re all looking at my chest, not my face.”
“Ah yes, the age-old dilemma. What’s the reaction you’re looking for?”
“I’d just like a tall, dark, and handsome man to give me a long stare that says, ‘I know what you just did, you slut.”
“I think you take too much pleasure in this.”
“Oh, Daddio! The only thing more pleasurable is when it’s leaking out of my puss through my panties and shorts at the same time as it’s on my face.”
“Do you have a special name for that walk?”
“The Double-Stuff Strut, The Cream-Pie Promenade, The Spit-Roast Saunter.”
“I should have known.”
admiration
I was sitting up in bed, my glasses on, reading silently.
Abstract painting
She was next to me, naked, legs spread, knees up in the air. Her position reminded me of a frog stuck on its back, its vulnerable underbelly exposed. Not a flattering juxtaposition, but that’s what went through my mind as I looked at her, caressing her spread, dewy pussy with her right hand, her left squeezing her left breast and then her right. She was clearly trying to give herself the love and attention she wasn’t receiving from me. Filling her pussy with her three fingers, pinching and pulling her nipples, rubbing her hand over her tum, licking her fingers. Moaning.
“Don’t you ever tire of reading?” she finally asked, pouting.
“Don’t you ever tire of fucking yourself silly?” I retorted.
“Say what you will, I am a damn good fuck. Better than most.”
“Present company excluded,” I added.
“I wouldn’t say that necessarily.”
She was trying to get my ire up, or something up.
“What are you reading, anyhow?” she asked out of frustration.
“An abstract.”
“What?”
“An abstract.”
“Is that the title of the book?”
“No, but that would make a good title,” I said, pulling out my little notebook and writing the thought down.
nude
“Oh no, now you’re reading and writing!”
“An abstract is a summary of the contents of a book, a paper, a dissertation.”
“Then why don’t they call it a summary?”
“I don’t know. I don’t make the rules.”
“Well, is that abstract so good that you wouldn’t have the full-color, complete package, right here in-the-flesh?”
“Darling. . .”
“You prefer the abstract over the real?”
“I. . .”
“Philosophers should come with a warning label!”
“And what, prey tell, would that warning be?”
“WARNING: Prefers to contemplate own navel over contemplating your anus!”
“You want me to contemplate your anus?”
Lo minimalism
“No, never mind. I can do it myself,” she said, putting her knees behind her head and curving her torso forward while simultaneously grabbing her butt cheeks with her hands and pushing her ass toward her face.
“Nice parlor trick,” I said. “You’ve been doing yoga while I’m at work?”
“No, I’ve been contemplating my anus.”
“And what have you discovered with all that contemplation?”
“That it is eminently fuckable and sublimely beautiful.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“May I fuck it?”
“Do you want it for real, or merely abstractly?”
“You know, there’s a branch of mathematics that is strictly theoretical.”
“Is there?”
“Yes.”
“So, what’s that have to do with my ass?”
Contemplation of the Anus
“I’m merely pointing out that even something as grounded and concrete as math can exist on a fictional plane. People think that there is nothing more basic than one-plus-one equals two, that these numbers are based in empirical facts like stones or sticks. But even the number one and the number two are abstractions.”
“I’m interested in making one and one equal one.”
It took me a while to understand her mathematical metaphor.
She was still twisted in her pretzel shape.
“Can you lick it?” I asked.
“I’m working on it since at this rate, it’s the only cunnilingus I’m going to get.”
“You remind me of the ouroboros now.”
“What is that?”
“It is the image of a snake eating its own tail. It became the symbol for infinity because it never ends.”
“Appropriately symbolic, for you never stop talking and start fucking.”
“And your desire is infinite.”
“Everyone’s desire is infinite.”
“I’m afraid you are generalizing from the specific. Quite the no-no in logic.”
“Do you want my ass, or don’t you?” she asked impatiently.
“If you’re offering it, then sure I do!”
She released from the yoganidrasana pose. “Well, you’ll have to use your imagination because that’s something you’re only going to experience on a fictional plane.”
“But. . .”
“Imagine it vividly and then you can write all about it.”
“But Lo, you know that I’m not a fiction writer. Our readers expect accounts of my sex life with Lola!”
“What sex life? It’s more like Lola’s sex life with Lola as H.H. exists on the astral plane.”
“Have you ever had sex in the astral plane?”
“No, I’ve had cocks in my ass and it felt divine. And I’ve had sex on a plane (with myself). Maybe one day I’ll have anal sex on a plane and be transported to that heavenly realm again.”
“The astral plane?”
“No, the anal orgasm.”
“I’ll take you there.”
“To hell you will. I want you in my cunt.”
“Why won’t you give me your ass?”
“Because you simply don’t deserve it. Make me cum in my cunt and then we’ll see if you graduate to the advanced class. If you can get it up for one, you can get it up for the other.”
“Isn’t it more like, if you can get it up for two?”
“You know what I mean. Do you want to spend our time in bed discussing nomenclature and numbers, or do you want to ram your cock hard in my cunt?”
“You wax poetic when you’re horny, you know that?”
She was done with language and she reached down to grab my member. I was very hard by this point.
“Looks like you are ready to give me what I want. I know how to excite you.”
“Your intellectual conversation of theoretical planes of existence was a real turn-on.”
“I bet it was, now get behind me and show me how deeply you love me.”
She rolled onto her tum and put her ass in the air. I mounted her from behind and pulled her hair. She instantly gushed like an overripe fruit, sensitive to the touch.
“Yeah, Daddio, that’s it.”
I delved deep inside her. I could feel the tip of my rod touching the target, tantalizing and teasing that tender tuft of nerves that turns on the tap, unleashing a torrent.
Within mere seconds, she was flooding the bed with her happiness.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she repeated again and again, grasping the sheets and holding on for dear life.
I don’t mean to give myself much credit for any special sexual talent. It really wasn’t very difficult. She was primed and ready before I even penetrated her. The time it took to bring her to climax was approximately half the time of our conversation about it.
When she had recovered her senses, she looked over at me and smiled.
I picked up my book again and said, “I’m glad I could please you darling. Had I known it would only be a matter of a moment, I wouldn’t have protested so much.”
She simply said, “It was the talk about abstractions that turned me on. You know I’m a sapiosexual.”
“Indeed,” I replied.
“What’s the abstract about, anyhow?”
“Abstract art.”
“Of course it is.”
The End