Archive for September 2012

e[Lust]: e-dition 40

September 15, 2012

Photo courtesy of @iSlut_ of A Slut’s Memoir

Welcome to e[lust] – The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #41? Start with the newly updated rules, come back October 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates! I’d like to also direct your attention to a new Editor’s Letter that’s up.

~ This Week’s Top Three Posts ~

The Bitch is BackThe temperature at the table drops several degrees. “Like that?,” I say. ”Is that what you want?”

On Women Who Like SexI like sex as much as any man I know. I am not a weirdo, I am not a slut, and I am not in any excessive danger.

Secret SecretaryThere she was in the reception room on my couch, lying on her back, legs spread, skirt hiked up over her torso, her hands frantically feeling between her legs.

~ e[lust] Editress ~

Street Harassment: It’s everywhere, all the time

~ Featured Post (Lilly’s Pick) ~

Thoughts: Regarding Limits In BDSM

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Begin rant
Communication Breakdown
Family Planning
Great Expectation
My Fantasy
Rituals, Symbolism, Kink, and of course ME

Sex News, Interviews, Politics & Humor

How You Know You Are On The Rag

Kink & Fetish

Anal Slut
Flogger Use and Safety from a Beginner
Janet’s Magical Toybag
Protest Much?
Property of Seven
Playing With Fire
Tonight I am going to fuck your (slave) ass
The Long-Anticipated Gangbang Post
Welcome To The Club

Erotic Writing

Almost Broken
A Bad Habit
A Sinner Sits for Sacred Sunday Service
BBQ & Beer
Birthday Sex
Cap D’Agde -spit roast with a stranger
Dirty Talk
Lolita Twenty-Twelve, Part Five
Oral at a Sex Party
once in a while
Random memories: First love
Saturday Morning Pussy
Stress Reliever – Lubed Fingers
The shopping assistant
The Sting of the Crop

Lolita Twenty-Twelve, Part Five

September 1, 2012

Copyright 2012 M2B


‘You simply MUST stay with Marcele and me! No staying at a hotel! I insist!’

Carmen would not take no for an answer, it seemed. We’d discussed, argued, and debated this, as the plane taxi’d down the runway toward our landing point. I really didn’t want to appear impolite, but neither did I want to impose.

‘Impose? Don’t be ridiculous!’

…she’d said. Quite emphatically, in fact. With nipples, pressed intently against her sheer, tight top; her hands between her legs as if she would’ve liked nothing more than to spread them, parting the slick lips that only recently had housed the vibrator I’d brought for daphne…

Wasn’t going to take…ANY…of that as a come-on, however. Nope, nope…no matter what the outward signs, Carmen belonged to another, and I made a habit never to play with other people’s food…

Or something.

In any case, rather than me finding myself in a strategically located spot, as near to daphne as I could be…it appeared I’d be getting free lodgings with my newfound airline companion and her…well, her ‘Master’.

…fucked up, or what?

Come to think about it, it really wasn’t any more fucked up than my original plan. Where was I gonna stay? In actuality, I’d tentatively reserved a room in a hotel close to where daphne’d said the wedding she and her family were attending would be, but what was I to do after that? I supposed I could always call and cancel, in any event. Come to think about it, might be good to have that as a backup plan, just hanging onto the room on the chance I prematurely wear out my welcome with Carmen and ‘Marcele’…

All right, then. Just a little behind Carmen, I made my mind up. Plan A AND Plan B. Just in case.

Clever…CLEVER Me.

Customs wasn’t too much of an ordeal – apart from the somewhat embarassing cock rise I got when I went through the body scanner but, hey: the attendant *was* cute. I think I even made her blush…not that she was the only one. I’d been thinking about a porn loop I’d seen recently, where an attendant, for whatever made-up reason, actually did usher someone in for a quick ‘strip search’, only to have the search become, shall I say, ‘mutual’? Probably not the best thing to be thinking of while under the hot glare of the real thing, but…there I was, and that’s what I was thinking of. DOWN boy!

Sadly, wasn’t long before cock did become flaccid, as Carmen and I collected our bags – only to find ‘Marcele’ waiting for us just outside the terminal.

‘Hellooooooooo, dahhhhhhling!’ ‘Marcele’ effused, hugging Carmen tightly in her own *very* revealing mini and tube top which, as cock rose again, I couldn’t help wishing that it wouldn’t just…slip…or *snap*…from around her very bodacious ta-tas…

…but, wait: Carmen called Marcele her…Master? Hmm…perhaps it was simply a difference in the languages…whatever. No complaints from me!

‘And who is THIS studly specimen of manhood?’ Marcele gushed, almost enough to be believable.

‘THIS…is my newfound bestie, Alex,’ Carmen replied, wrapping an arm around me. ‘He’s here to visit with a ‘friend’, and I wanted to show him some real Colombian hospitality by offering him a place to stay – with us. Would that be ok, Master…I mean, Marcele?’

I couldn’t tell if Marcele’s hesitation was owing to Carmen’s apparent slip by calling him…I mean, ‘her’…by the ‘M’ word, or if he…she…was deliberating on something else. In less time than it took to consider that myself, however, Marcele blurted:

‘Of COURSE! If you say Alex is good people, I welcome him into our home as if he were part of our family! Come! Our car is just down a ways…’

And so, before long we were on our way, heading into the early afternoon scorch of Bogota.


‘This…is our modest accomodations. Please make yourself comfortable.’


As I looked around, slack-jawed, at M ‘n C’s beautiful bungalow, I couldn’t help but be in awe. Gorgeous paintings, sculptures, and other works of art filled their living room, the very air itself casting a welcoming essence.

‘I hope you’re not allergic to incense’, Carmen said, smiling and setting down her bags. ‘There’s a bedroom, with an ensuite, just down the hall on the left where you can put your bag and freshen up.’

‘No, great – incense…it smells lovely! Very impressed with your place, too…thanks, though. Might just take advantage and get cleaned up a little.’

‘There’ll be something cool for you to drink when you’re ready,’ Marcele said, wrapping her arms around Carmen. ‘Please – relax! Enjoy!’

Peeling out of the togs I’d been wearing for the better part of a day felt heavenly! Just allowing the sweat covering my body some time to breathe and dry out was wonderful. I was fatigued – air travel always took it out of me and, even though the time difference wasn’t that great, just being on a plane for that length of time was taxing.

The bedroom was just as beautiful as the rest of the place, and the ensuite was spacious, with a hot tub and a shower. Thinking that I’d probably just fall asleep if I jumped in the tub, I opted for a coolish shower, if only to brisk me up. Was also a bit parched from the trip, so the thought of a drink awaiting kept me conscious, at least for a little while longer.

It was only after emerging from the shower, however, that one thing became strikingly obvious:

A decided lack of a towel.


So. I could either stand around, dripping wet; wait for the sun to dry me off naturally (not that that would take too long), or…

Pehaps a quick shout-out would solve the problem.

‘Hello? Marcele? Carmen?’

I dripped, as I walked down the hall to the living room, but any embarassment I felt over leaving a water trail – to say nothing of being starkers – became moot when it appeared that Marcele and Carmen had gone elsewhere.

‘Hellooo? Marcele? Carmen?’

Flamenco guitar music – along with a rhythm I’d not quite heard as the usual accompaniment – issued from below the staircase winding down to a lower level. A little…arhythmic…almost as if being played live, alongside the guitar. Well, if I was going to find a towel, further investigation was definitely in order.

Slipping a little as I descended along the cool marble stairs, I braced myself against the hand rail as my ears lead me to the room where the music was coming from.

And, sure enough, it was there that I found Marcele and Carmen.

‘Help yourself to a Marguerita,’ Marcele said,in as buck-naked a state as I was and motioning to a table just inside the door. I hesitated, blinking as I took in the scene before me. Carmen was affixed, ass-naked toward Marcele and I, on a St. Andrews Cross, with legs spread and red marks cross-crossed over her round, plump cheeks. In one hand, Marcele had a Marguerita herself; the other contaning a riding crop. What stood out most, however, was the cock that issued, almost completely vertically, from Marcele’s groin.

…as my own cock began heading in the same direction…


‘Please! Don’t, erm, ‘stand on ceremony’, I believe the expression goes…help yourself!’ Marcele exclaimed, reading his non-drinking hand for another whack at Carmen’s behind. Now, whether there was anything more to the offer than simply a drink, I wasn’t about to debate over – at least not at that moment. Taking the opportunity to hide my ever-increasing throb, I faced away from the arousing brutality and dove into the first of what I hoped would be several drinks as the night progressed.

‘She is nice, yes?’ Marcele said as I cautiously joined her while the assault continued. Carmen’s eyes were closed, her nipples hard and taut as her wrists held fast to her bindings.

‘Mmm….VERY nice,’ I agreed. Couldn’t help rubbing the cold glass against my cock while I watched – the coolness of the ice doing little to ease the throb but certainly helping to keep me from over-heating. Yes, the ass I’d only gotten a peek at while on the plane certainly was *nice* – made all the moreso by the streaks of red that Marcele adorned Carmen with.

‘Made it myself, out of leather and hickory. Here – you try.’

Oh – Marcele was talking about her *crop*. All right; ok…

Why not.

Readying the crop, I paused.

‘Carmen, are you ok with this?’ Then, to Marcele. ‘Is Carmen ok with this?’

A bemused smile broke across Marcele’s face. ‘Yes. Carmen is fine with this. But thank you for asking.’

Hmm. Wishing Carmen had said something…anything…made some sort of acknowledgement, I was nonetheless a guest here, so I simply nodded.


Attempting to hit a spot not already covered in red, I aimed for the crest of cheek, just at hip level. As my first blows were usually on the tentative side – if only to gauge things – it seemed apparent to Marcele – if only by a certain lack of reaction by Carmen – that, well…perhaps I wasn’t being enthusiastic enough?

I glanced at Marcele. Her arms were crossed, just under her lovely breasts (and VERY stiff nipples), a bemused smile still on her face.

‘You won’t break her, you know. Certainly not at THAT rate.’

‘Yes, sorry,’ I stammered. ‘I just don’t want to…well…’

‘I show you?’

Taking my hand holding the crop in hers, Marcele stood behind me.

‘Hold your arm loosely – making sure not to let go of the crop – but so I can control. Ok?’

I could feel Marcele’s nipples grazing my back as she stood behind me.





Marcele was now pressing directly from behind – her cock nudging direcly INTO my behind – her hot and throbbing glans ducking inside my crack.

‘Mmm…yes…’ I said, *definitely* having allowed her to assume control – of more than just my arm, too.

Several more *thwacks* ensued, with Carmen finally adding to the conversation.

‘Aah! AAH! OH, FUCK…’

…not terribly *articulate* pronouncements, but it was still nice having her join us.


Just as it seemed Marcele’s cock was starting to stroke faster and faster along my crack…she BIT me! Right on the shoulder!

…still not wanting to be impolite, though, my exclamation – out of surprise more than anything – was my only retort. It was then that Marcele stopped, taking the crop from my hand and pulling back.

‘Now you go.’

When I turned to look at her, our cocks grazed each other, throbbing, hot.

‘…I’m sorry?’

Marcele smiled, and I could tell her heart was racing.

‘You want to fuck? My Carmen?’ Marcele asked, gripping my cheeks in her hands and pulling her close to me. ‘I give permission.’

She kissed me then, as our cocks mashed together. Only her nipples pressed harder than her tongue, though, as she assaulted my mouth while her nails dug into my cheeks. I had to admit, my cock was so close to bursting that I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out.

‘I get more drinks. You take my Carmen.’

And then Marcele was gone, taking the Marguerita pitcher with her.

Pausing a moment to catch my breath, I turned back to Carmen.

‘You ok?’ I said, drawing close to her and whispering in her ear.


…was she simply exhausted from the trip? Had she had a drink herself? I couldn’t be sure. I only knew that I didn’t want to cause any upset, particularly under the circumstances. It seemed that the task before me was clear.

Going on my knees, I carefully parted Carmen’s hot, and cris-crossed cheeks with my fingers. Pressing my lips inside, my tongue found her rose, just as hot – though OH-so soft – as the rest of her. Ensuring I’d moistened her with enough saliva, I then stood. Positioning my cock, I slowly eased myself inside, stopping just as glans popped rose.


I started at the sound of Marcele’s voice, but steadied myself by gripping Carmen’s cheeks when Marcele’s cock pressed against my ass again.

‘You like?’ Marcele whispered against my ear, the talons at the end of her fingers digging into my hips as she thrust into me in ernest while I pushed inside Carmen.


Which was about all Carmen herself had to say, too, with the both of us being reamed simultaneously.

Cock…slapping my ass…tits, mashing against my back…Carmen’s own breasts squeezed between my eager fingers – if only to steady myself so I didn’t collapse her and the cross at the same time…

‘…aah! AAH!’

Apparently Marcele was hornier than I was, for she came, not bothering to withdraw but simply coating my interior with her hot cum, only moments before I did the same inside Carmen.

Turning me around, Marcele kissed me deeply again, our slick and throbbing cocks slaping against each other once again.

‘Another drink?’ Marcele asked.

‘Certainly, but what about Carmen?’

‘Never mind her. She’s an obedient little slut. I’ll attend to her later.’

…and then it dawned on me.

‘I actually came looking for a towel.’

Marcele simply smiled, handing me another Marguerita.

‘We usually just let the sun take care of that. Appears you could use another shower, though, no?


‘But…?’ Glancing back at Carmen, who remained motionless while still attached to the cross, because she was facing away I was unable to tell how she was doing.

Well, hopefully I’d get a chance to check on her later…

Taking Marcele’s extended hand, we walked, cocks still stiff, down the hall where another bathroom beckoned.