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. …
It was late and all through the house not a creature was stirring, only Lo, clicking her mouse.
I was on my side of the bed, facing away from Lo, but I could feel the side of her thigh up against my back and the gentle rocking of the bed. I gave it a minute, or twenty. But when the motions didn’t cease and the moans increased, I rolled over to face her.
She was sitting up in bed, naked, her legs bent at the knees, one of them had been resting against me. Her computer was between her legs, as one of her hands manipulated it and the other manipulated her clit. …
[The following story appeared in the January 2021 Issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine, or ENM for short.]
“Happy birthday!” said Lo in a sing-song tone.
I rolled over. It was early. Earlier than Lo gets up in the morning. She wanted to make the day special for me since she knew that we couldn’t have a party or celebrate in any way that resembled birthdays past.
“Wanna have birthday sexy?” …
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. …
I was sitting up in bed, my glasses on, reading silently.
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. …
“Is that the doorbell?” I asked, just as I was sitting down to eat dinner.
“Oh!” said Lo, getting up quickly from the table and rushing to the door.
“It’s the boys. They’re here to fix the leak.”
“What boys? What leak?”
“You know, Roy and Gary.”
“Oh, the brothers.”
“Yes,” she said, opening the door, letting them in.
They waved awkwardly at me.
“What leak?” I asked again.
“Oh, it’s not leaking yet, but it will be.”
Lo led the boys down the hall to the bedroom. I waited a couple of minutes. When I heard the moans of pleasure, I decided I’m not waiting any longer. …
A while ago, when Lo and I first met up with the protégés, Zach and I had a nice little chat about our sexual proclivities. My theory was and is that the things we obsess about as adults have their origins in our formative sexual experiences. While talking with Zach, I was reminiscing about the girl who stole my virginity and then proceeded to crush my loving heart. (“Stole my virginity” is hardly an apt phrase. I was eager to get rid of it!) …
“MmmmmHmmmm. . . Yeah. . . That’s right. Yesssss.”
These are the words I heard Lo saying as I walked in the door for lunch. I turned the corner and entered the living room where I saw Lo at her makeshift home office desk in front of the open window that looks out onto the street from our apartment. She was business on top, naked on bottom. Her legs were spread. She had a small oscillating personal fan on the floor under her desk blowing on her bare mons Veneris. She held her phone with her left hand and was stroking her air-cooled puss with her right. …
[This story was printed in the December issue of Ethical Non-Monogamy Magazine. Get yours today!]
We pulled up outside the stately mansion, exterior up-lighting illuminated its solid granite façade and the silver hue of the full moon reflected off the glittering snow of the estate. We could already hear music emanating from the warm glow within the large windows where the Christmas revelers were crowded into the grand ballroom.
We were a mere twelve days away from 2020 and the historic home was throwing a Gatsby inspired ball to usher in the new decade and raise money for the private trust which kept the historic home open to the public as a museum and park. Tickets were limited and expensive, but we managed to score four: two for Lo and me and two for Mark and Stephanie. You will recall that they are the married couple with two young kids at home. They like Lo and me because we encourage them to get out and do things like they used to, pre-kids. And Lo is in lust with Mark. …