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From: slayer@death.com (The Assassin)
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Subject: [ass] New Story: Miss Roundheels, part 1 (MF, ws, scat)
Date: Fri, 18 Jul 1997 22:37:02 GMT
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I am not the author of this story. Maven the Raven is the author, and
may be contacted at mavenj@hotmail.com. Mail for me (requests for
reposts, etc) should be sent to wendigo69@hotmail.com.

Be forewarned! This is a sex story. If you're surprised at finding a
sex story in a sex story group, then you're probably brain damaged and
in need of help. If you're offended by sex, or graphic descriptions of
same, then don't read this story, and try spending your time in
alt.christnet.

 HOW TO HANDLE A SLUT WIFE

...OR...Reforming Miss Round Heels

By Maven the Raven

I met Steve Ripley in the Remuda Saloon one summer afternoon.
He was a big, good-looking rancher in his forties, kind of a
Marlboro Man in his stetson and cowboy boots. The
Remuda is a sports bar with lots of photographs of athletes on
the walls. On the wall opposite the bar was a huge blowup of a
drum majorette who was strutting at the head of a parade, spine
back, knee bent, long legs and a short skirt and marching boots
and shako. A very sexy piece indeed. Her face was turned toward
the camera and she was grinning, showing a great set of
choppers. I wondered who she was and figured she must be a local
celebrity.

Steve Ripley was drinking straight shots of whiskey and I was
drinking beer. We hit it off right away and found each other
right good company. He said he was a rancher and half invited me
out to his spread sometime indefinite. He said he'd better check
with his wife first. He barked a laugh and said she'd do
anything he said...

After awhile we got tired to drinking and went out and sat in
the breeze in captain's chairs on the hotel porch.

I noticed three women coming along, in no hurry, laughing and
gossiping away. They were obviously three generations of one
family. It was summer and all three wore light cotton dresses or
skirts, with sleeveless blouses or tops that showed bare
shoulders.                                                      

The oldest was the granny, silver hair and specs, pretty
good legs and hips for an old woman and a bold, hawkish face
with heavy black eyebrows and a few whiskers like an old
mandarin. Curiously enough, the hairy adornment fitted her and
made her quite sensual. She was a pretty big woman but not quite
fat. She moved with dignity and poise and was quite attractive
for an older woman. I found she had a curious kind of magnetism
though at first she seemed to be a typical granny.

The other two women were both fatties--they waddled along with
bellies and boobs bouncing in front of them. I could see from
his expression that this was Steve's family. I judged the middle
woman was his wife and I wondered if the young one was his
daughter. The old woman looked to be in her late sixties or
maybe healthy early seventies, the middle fatty was in her
forties and the young one in her twenties. The middle one must
have weighed over 200 pounds and I reckoned she was about five
foot six. She wore an old, rump-sprung corset and uplift bra
that didn't give her enough help and she had dyed blonde hair
and a smooth face.

The young one was much fatter -- probably about 240 -- and she
practically rolled on her low-heeled loafers. She was dark
haired and like her grandmother had black eyebrows that met
above her snub nose. She also had a surprising mustache, as
thick as a man's and running along the full length of her long
upper lip. As she got closer, I saw her false teeth rolling
around in her mouth when she talked -- they sure didn't fit
right! She was wearing a sleeveless black blouse and a full
skirt to below her knees.

She was quite hairy--thick hair on her bare legs and forearms,
hair in her armpits when she lifted a beefy arm.

Her skirt was primly long but it was slashed along oneside and
every time she took a step it rflipped open revealing...
BLOOMERS! Yes, old-fashioned rayon bloomers in shocking pink.

They were startling in this day and age. I wondered if her
grandmother still wore bloomers!

The women strolled up to Steve and he rose and introduced me. I
was surprised to find that his wife was not the older fattie but
the young one. He seemed to be very proud of her. Bobby, the
wife, seemed to be a shy and insecure person.

Her mother was one of those placid women in their forties who
has become so used to her avoirdupois as to feel quite secure
and confident. She had lost her looks but was complacent about
everything -- much more than her daughter. Steve said she lived
in Marville, about 500 miles to the west, but visited fairly
frequently.  I got the impression that she was married for a
second time.

The grandmother lived here in town, in an apartment by herself,
but it was obvious that she supervised her granddaughter
closely. She seemed very close to both her granddaughter and her
grandson-in-law and I was a bit startled to find her bold stare
looking me over in an arrogant way. Steve treated her
affectionately and they seemed to have a special relationship. I
began to be more and more impressed with the fact that she was a
handsome enough woman and knew it well. She carried herself
well, helped by an expensive corset, and she was very self
confident.

Steve seemed very proud of his portly young wife and put his arm
around her shoulders as he talked about her to me. She looked
awfully nervous though she cast worshipful glances up at him. I
couldn't understand why he seemed so pleased with himself at
having such a frump.

We chatted for a few moments and the Ripleys agreed that I
should be invited up for dinner at an unspecified time. Grandma
Marnie cast bold and provocative glances at me that turned me on
in spite of her age. Doris, the mother of Bobby, obviously had
gotten used to being ignored as a sex symbol and was pleasant
enough. I looked her over approvingly but put any thoughts on
the back burner. I wanted to find out more about this intriguing
family before I made any advances.

The four of them left and I went back in the bar for another
drink. I asked the bartender about them and he grinned lewdly at
me.

"You notice that poster of the drum majorette over there?" he
said.

"Yeah! Sexy girl. She from around here?"

"That's Bobby Heller when she was the bombshell of Lincoln High.
Must be 17 or 18 there...Well, Bobby's now Mrs. Sceptre."

"What?" I asked, startled. "But that girl doesn't look anything
like the woman Steve Sceptre introduced me to as his wife!"

The bartender grinned again.

"Get Steve to tell you the story of his marriage," he said.
"It's a good story and he likes to tell it...He'll be in
Thursday about this time...Don't push him -- just drop a hint."

Well, I came back on Thursday and sure enough, Steve was there.
We had a couple of drinks and I told him how pleased I was to
meet his family. He grinned wolfishly at me.

"Like my cute little wife, Bobby? That's her in the photo up
there ten years ago. She used to be the star cheerleader and
drum majorette before she married me. I changed all that."

"Isn't she a little young for you?" I asked. "I thought at first
the mother was your wife."

Steve ordered drinks for both of us.

"People said that when I started courting her," he admitted
cheerfully. "But, boy she was cute!"

"Well, I can see that...But she seems to have changed just a
little."

He roared with laughter.

"You bet!" he said proudly. "I was the one who changed her --
turned her into a proper wife... Well, her gran helped a whole
lot and her mom helped some. But it was my idea to change the
forumula. Course it took quite a time and a lot of effort on my
part.  She sure didn't cooperate much!"

"I-- I don't understand why she's so different! Can't be that
long since--"

"It's seven years and I did it all!"

"Could you explain or am I poking my nose in?"

"Naw, it's alright!...See, what happened was I was lookin" for a
young wife and I saw this beauty and fell for her.People told me
she was a real slut -- slept with everybody. Gossip said she'd
fucked everything around -- she and a girl friend blew the whole
football team when it won a championship."

I was pretty startled at hearing a husband being so frank about
his wife but he was grinning at me lasciviously and I could see
he was quite a different kind of husband. I had an idea he
wanted to say quite a lot about the education of his wife and
would be happy to hear me talk back in the same vein.

"But didn't you object to her being such a slut?"

Steve grinned confidentially at me.  He took a drink and paused
before he went on with great confidentiality.

"Hell, no! I liked her spunk! But I intended to marry her and
reform her. People told me she'd play me for a patsy and I
wouldn't be able to keep her in my bed.But I got to know her
grandma, Marnie -- you met her -- and we worked out a plan."

Over the next few days Steve gave me the full story of his
courtship of Bobby Heller and their highly eventful marriage.
Later, Bobby's grandmother, Marnie, filled in some of the
details. It was quite a story...

Bobby Heller was listed in her highschool year book as "Miss
R.H" of the year and that was accurate because her name was
Roberta Heller. But what the editor meant was that she was "Miss
Round Heels." She was one of those bouncy, outgoing girls who
makes an ideal cheerleader or drum majorette, voluptuous at 14,
big boobed, wide assed, long legged, with a come hither smile
and twinkling blue eyes. Every boy wanted her and almost every
boy got her. The year the football team won the regional
championship, Bobby and Sally West, her best friend, gave the
team a treat -- a round robin blow job in the dressing room
after the final game. The coach watched benignly -- he had
already fucked both girls at half-time.

Bobby ended her education in a blaze of something. In her final
year she was low on grades and decided to do something about it.
Unhappily, she was caught by the prim vice-principal going down
on the principal in his office. Both of them were expelled.

After leaving school, Bobby worked as a waitress and a barmaid
and continued her lurid career, which had started when she was a
precocious thirteen-year-old. Everybody liked her and almost
everybody, male and female, fucked her.

When she was 22 Steve Sceptre decided to marry her. He was a
well-to-do farmer, a man of 47 who had been around. He had been
an athlete and had worked as a logger, oil rigger and various
other manly pursuits. He was also nobody's fool which was the
thing that surprised people about him wanting to marry Miss R.H.

Bobby's mother had never been able to -- had never tried, to
tell the truth -- control her daughter or her other children.
She was a dispirited womanof 47, run to fat and careless of her
appearance. Mainly she was self-indulgent.  When people told her
about Bobby's adventures she just shrugged hopelessly and
clacked her false teeth as she always had.

Bobby's grandmother was quite another cup of tea. She was a
handsome, strong-willed woman of nearly 70 who lived 500 miles
away but heard all the gossip from her friends in town. She
frequently wrote to her daughter and told her to put her foot
down with Bobby, with her sisters and with her brother. It did
no good.

During the engagement, Grandma Marnie came to stay with her
daughter and she met Steve at a shower. She liked him -- he was
just the kind of man she was attracted to, very much like
herself. She also felt sorry for him. So she cultivated him and
found he liked her company as much as she liked his.

One day when they were alone together she asked Steve if he knew
what he was getting into with Bobby. He laughed and said he did.

"Well, I'll be quite frank with you, Steve," said Mrs. Epper. "I
don't think my granddaughter is the kind of girl who will make a
particularly good wife. You should know what you're getting into
before it's too late. Bobby is my granddaughter and I love her
dearly but her mother should have taken a hairbruwsh to her
bottom the way I did. She'd have been a better girl. Doris came
out all right but she's weak and she couldn't handle Bobby.

Steve grinned.

"I think of Roberta as a kind of challenge for a husband," he
said.

Grandma Marnie gave him a sidelong look.

"Those are famous lost words. Many husbands have thought they
could appeal to the better side of their wives."

"I don't intend to appeal. I'm going to persuade Bobby to settle
down with a firm hand. And I'll be looking for your advice and
help."

Marnie's eyes sparkled.

"You mean you're going to treat Roberta the way I treated her
mom?"

"Well, I want to hear all about that... What I have in mind is
the full treatment. I'm going to put Bobby into old-fashioned
duds, fatten her up a good deal and impose a few restrictions.

I think she'll give in after awhile. If she doesn't, she'll go
across my knee with her pants down. I'll turn her into a
wet-eyed believer!"

Marnie let out a long sigh.

"Well, praise the Lord!" she sighed. "Maybe it will work. You
have my undiluted support!...Does Bobbie know what's in store
for her?"

Steve chuckled.

"Not at all! I'm sure she thinks she'll go right on with her
skedaddling around town. I won't tell her till after the
honeymoon. Then the curfew will crash down, the new wardrobe
will appear and I'll put her on a crash diet in reverse. Do you
think she'll enjoy the strap?"

Grandma Ester shook her head in admiration.

"I can do better than a strap for you! I'll make you a present
of the very hairbrush I used on Doris and the other kids.
There's nothing like a good heavy maple hairbrush for bringing
submission!"

"I'll bet!  ... I'll also need your advice on where to get the
kind of underwear I intend Bobbie to wear."

"Have you got any ideas?"

"Of course! I intend to put her into old-fashioned bloomers and
vests like her mom wears. I think she'll be worried about her
boyfriends and girl friends laughing at her."

"What a good idea! I know a lingerie shop where she can be fixed
up. They supply me...Now, what about a special diet for her?"   

"What do you mean?"

"You should fatten her up. There's nothing that takes a girl out
of the round-heels running like a pot belly and a satchel ass.
That's one reason I never objected when Doris started eating
herself into the fat woman class...I hope you won't mind having
a fat wife? It will do a lot to help control her."

Steve thought it over and grinned lewdly.

"That's a hell of an idea, gran!" he said slowly. "Naw, I kind
of like big women...You think I should turn Bobby into a woman
as big as her mom?"

It was Marnie's turn to smile.

"She may get bigger...But you'd better make your mind up at the
start because there'll be no going back -- a woman who gets a
real potbelly and a wide ass never loses it. You'll be stuck
with her but she'll also be your creation and you'll be the one
she worships because there'll be nobody else for her. Are you
sure YOU want to have a fat wife? Do you think you'll find her
sexually attractive?

Steve nodded slowly and looked reflective.

"That's an interesting point and I'm not sure about the answer,"
he said. "I'm not sure whether I'll find her as repulsive as a
pig when she gets fat and loses her looks. That's the fun of it!
I want to deliberately change her into something else -- to put
my mark on her permanently. I THINK I'll like her very much that
way. But I'm not sure. Do you understand what I mean?"

It was Marnie's turn to smile and nod.

"I love your honesty!" she said. "I'll be very happy to be part
of Bobby's transformation. Whatever happens, the change will
reform her. And I can hardly wait to see what happens and what
it does to you! I feel positively like a female Pygmalion!"

Steve laughed loudly.

"Good for you, gran! We'll have a lot of fun!"

"Thank you, dear boy...We're going to have quite an adventure.".

"Yeah...I can see that... What a hell of a joke to pay on a high
kicker! This is going to be FUN!"

"Well, I know a colored woman and her daughter who could look
after your house and cook the meals. I'll give them a high fat
diet for Bobby and I'm sure they'll make sure she gobbles it up.
 You can help by bringing home chocolates. They're good for the
teeth, too!"

"What you do mean?"

"Well, one of the best things in your campaign to transform
Bobby is to persuade her to get all her teeth out and get
dentures. There's nothing takes the starch out of a rebellious
miss like losing her teeth -- especially if she's got a great
smile!...The chocolates and sugary desserts will soon rot out
her teeth. And I can arrange things with my dentist. He's a kind
of specialist in handling total extractions for husbands."

"You're a wonder, gran!" Steve said admiringly. "We'll follow
your plan down to the letter."

He leaned forward and kissed Marnie on the cheek and looked deep
into her eyes.

"Thanks, gran!" he said.

She looked back at him and smiled. Then she turned her face and
kissed him lingeringly on the lips, a kiss of real sensuality.
He put his arms around her and drew her close, prolonging the
kiss. Then he withdrew.

"Later, gran," he said ambiguously with a smile of real
complicity.

                                *

	The wedding was a big affair with many of Bobby's former and
current boyfriends in attendance. Their smirks indicated that
they expected to continue. Doris had modified her own white
wedding dress for her daughter and she wore it with great style.
She was in her element as the centre of attraction.

Steve had bought a big house with a swimming pool and extensive
grounds a couple of blocks from her mother. Gran leased her
house, took an apartment close by and moved so she could observe
the taming of her granddaughter and help her grandson-in-law.

Steve took Bobby on a trip to Europe and spared no expense.
Inside of two weeks after the wedding, Bobby was flirting with
French waiters but Steve made no complaint. He found his wife
was a terrific fuck, enthusiastic and expert. He loved having
her long, slim legs wrapped around his back, her gorgeous, lewd
smile showing off her toothpaste-ad teeth, her high breasts and
flat belly. When she went down on him he realized her experience
made her a very good cock-sucker.

Yet he was also aware that she was probably capable of giving as
much pleasure to other men who caught her fancy.

When they moved into the new house Bobby met the new housekeeper
-- a colored woman in her forties who was a noted cook. She was
a stout, energetic party who used a lot of oil and sugar in her
cooking. Steve also fed his wife lots of candy and icecream --
there was always a five pound box of chocolate creams around.

Bobby was well aware of the tendency of women in her family to
get fat and she prized her own voluptuous figure. But she was
greedy and had no self-restraint. That meant she couldn't resist
the chocs despite what it meant to her waistline or her teeth.
The impact of that and lots of pasta soon began to show on her
thighs and tummy.

A few weeks after they settled in, Bobby disappeared. Steve
followed her downtown about 10 pm and found her sitting in her
old bar head close to a former lover. Without comment, Steve led
her out to the car firmly.

She did it again a couple of nights later.

This time Steve didn't follow her. When she came home next
morning her husband took her into the kitchen, pulled down her
slacks and panties, bent her over his knee and whopped her bare
bottom. She was outraged at first and complained angrily, her
shouts soon turned to howls of pain.

"There'll be more of that every time you don't come home!" he
said.

She screamed rage and threats at him. That very night she stayed
out again.

This time he thrashed her with the hairbrush, raising big
bruises on her luscious ass. Then he dragged her to a room he
had been having remodelled. It was a bedroom with a single bed,
one chair and a washbasin. The window was heavily screened. He
pushed Bobby in and closed and locked the door. She screamed and
protested but he left her there. Once in awhile he would push in
a snack through an opening in the wall beside the door. The
walls were soundproofed and she screamed herself into silence
the first day. After two days, he let her out. She was dirty and
dishevelled and rushed to the master bedroom to get new clothes.
She threw off her old things and quickly took a hot shower.
Then, naked, she headed for her dresser, yanking open her
underwear drawer.

"Where's my clothes?" she screamed at Steve.

Steve led her to a table with neat stacks of freshly ironed,
brand new underwear -- silk and rayon and cotton bloomers and
vests, heavy guage nylon and silk stockings, a couple of
girdles, slips and petticoats. When she saw the old-fashioned
underwear (which she had learned to despise when she saw it on
her mother and grandmother) she screamed again and protested
bitterly but Steve told her to put on bloomers and shimmy. She
refused and he put her over his knee and gave her a thrashing on
the bare ass with a hairbrush.  She howled and blubbered and
finally agreed to don the hated undies. It went like that for a
week with Steve whipping her every day until he broke her spirit
and she began wearing the things he wanted without protest. In
six weeks she had accepted the face that every morning, without
prodding, she climbed into girdle, heavy-duty uplift bra, heavy
hose, DK's and vest. She tried to keep her friends from finding
out her shame but Marnie and Doris spread the word and she took
a great deal of kidding. Other husbands sniggered and smirked
but they looked at Steven with a good deal of respect and
approval.

Meanwhile, the diet prescribed by Grandma Marnie was working its
magic and Miss R-H was starting to grow into her bloomers. She
gained weight at a surprising rate and was up to 150 in no time
with the promise of a bulging belly, wide hips and drooping
breasts. Marnie and Doris suggested a new depillitant which
would be easier than shaving her arms, legs, armpits and face.
Actually it was a steroid guaranteed to grow hair fast. When she
tried to return to a razor, Steve confiscated it. Inside of
three months she had a prominent mustache and plenty of hair
under her arms and on her belly and legs.

She was confused and frightened but Steve looked at her with
great satisfaction. He found that she turned him on more than he
had expected and he fucked her royally every night and gave her
all sorts of presents. He could hardly believe the new woman he
had created, especially after she developed a real pot belly and
big ass. He had a photographer make several huge blowups of her
in her roles as cheerleader and drum majorette and he mounted
one in the bedroom where he and she couldn't miss it every
night. It gave him a real thrill to compare the slim young
beauty in the picture with the pear-shaped slob that she was
after a year or so. For a long time she could hardly bear
looking at herself and often she would burst into tears
(especially when she was standing in front of the mirror in her
bloomers with her false teeth in a glass on the dresser. Steve
liked coming up behind her naked and running his hands of her
bulbous belly and drooping breasts in a way that drew her
attention to her looks.)  She hardly knew whether she was more
scared, or horny, or excited by married life.

In this confused state it wasn't very hard to get her to the
dentist and when she woke up without a tooth in her head she
realized she was a totally new woman.  Now she finally lost
heart in the struggle and accepted her new self, getting used to
her appearance in bloomers and corset, her growing belly and
thighs, her loose false teeth or the sight of herself with no
teeth, the startling black mustache.

Bobby gradually was absorbed into a completely new society. She
found herself welcomed and cossetted by her mom and gran and the
three of them spent a lot of time shopping, cooking, dressing,
gossipping. Then there were youngish married women who welcomed
her to their society and made her feel at home as a fat woman.
Gradually she began accepting the sewing room sessions with her
mother and grandmother -- the older women wereprone to wander
around in their underwear without shame or embarrassment,
discussing the type of corset that was most comfortable, the
great comfort of loose bloomers, the advantages of heavy-guage
stockings. Doris and Marnie were quite open about their talk
concernint dentists and plates and feminine hygiene. The older
women were often casual in their corsets and they encouraged
Bobby to emulate them. Bobby was shy about joining in at first
but soon there were three big, bloomered, pot-bellied,
satchel--assed, saggy boobs moving casually around and making
comments about one another's appearance.

From that point Bobby moved to a stage where she cared little
for public opinion -- she got used to being surprised at a party
in the bathroom by another housewife or two while she casually
pulled up her bloomers and straightened the knee elastics, or
pushed her dentures into place after she put on lipstick or
discussed the discomforts of wearing a heavy-duty, full-length
corset with another woman.  She took it casualy even when she
found a man staring at her legs and realizing her bloomer
elastics were on view. 

Of course, I was fascinated by this story and I became more and
more interested in Steve's women. I saw a good deal of the whole
family and I was quite shaken when I found Marnie Eppert was
openly flirting with me. I'd never thought I had any interest in
older women and I judged Marnie was at least 70. But she had a
peculiar fascination. Somehow I couldn't get her out of my head.
I'd never had a woman anywhere near that old and was under the
general impression that women lost interest in sex after they
reached sixty. But Steve's stories indicated she had a very
prurient interest in her granddaughter's relations with her
husband and it seemed likely that she had a streak of horniness
such as Steve described. I met her fairly frequently in the
company of the Sceptres and she made it clear that she liked me
and welcomed my advances.

One thing led to another and with Steve's blessing I started
dating Marnie. I was used to sweet, shy old ladies and I was
amazed at how bold and inviting she was.  She flirted with me
quite openly and was very pleased when she found me responding.
It wasn't long before she welcomed me to her bed. I found her a
wonderfully horny person with a great and lustful interest in
sex.  We began by fucking energetically and pretty soon she
invited me to move in with her. She was a frank and open person
and made no bones about her sexuality, her age, or anything else.

One of the great, unexpected pleasures of living with her  was
watching the nightly and morning rituals she went through in
undressing and dressing. When we first went to bed she had
warned me not to expect her to change. 	"I'm too old and too set
in my ways," she said with a smile. "I'm too comfortable in the
way I do things. You'll have to learn what it's like to live
with a woman in her seventies."

"But I WANT to learn!" I assured her.

I did, too, but it took awhile because I wasn't fully aware of
what I was getting into. For one thing she did things in an
ordered way. When it was time to go to bed she would go into the
bathroom and strip off her outer clothes. Standing in front of
the mirror she would loosen her long, iron-grey hair and then
brush it the traditional hundred strokes. With her hair hanging
around her waist she would vigorously wash her face, removing
all of her lipstick, eyeshadow, rouge and pancake makeup. At
this stage she would still be wearing her corset, bloomers,
stockings and shoes. She would carefully examine her mustache to
see if it needed trimming and, if it did, neatly make it even
with a pair of nail scissors.  Then she would look at the dozen
long black hairs that grew out of her chin like a mandarin's
scanty beard.  She might trim one or two but she never cut them
off.

"I think that little tiny beard gives me a kind of distinction,"
she told me with a smile. I agreed that it did. While her
granddaughter had a thick, heavy mustache like a man's, Marnie's
hirsute face was elegant and startling. Most men found it rather
intriguing...

In the ritual, next she would remove her dentures and place them
in a plastic bowl with a tablet of dental cleaner. The bowl
would be filled with hot water and it would fizz up violently.
She would smile at herself with jaws apart, seeing her own pink
bare gums in the mirror in a kind of grotesque smile. Having
false teeth didn't bother her in the least though she was
pleased and surprised that I preferred her toothless. When she
had completed all of the regular things she would regularly as
clockwork take a leisurely piss and shit, wash her private
parts, put on her nightgown at come to bed. All of this took
half an hour or longer.

At first I respected her privacy as I had been taught but the
sight of her at her toilette was intriguing and I started
dropping in. Finally I asked her if she minded me being in the
bathroom with her. She looked at me with a come hither smile and
said she'd like that.  So I came in and undressed and washed at
the same time. She chatted happily with me and went on with her
talk while she was mounted on the throne. I began standing close
to her watching her openly and she'd smile invitingly at me
without stopping whatever she was doing. The next stage was to
stand behind her stroking whatever bit of her was available, in
corset, or just bloomers, or naked. I liked the feel of her and
she liked being stroked. I always stole a quick kiss so I could
get a lick at her bare gums. When her dentures were put to bed,
she would cover her face with special cold cream, massage it in,
then wipe it off carefully.  And after that she would pull down
her bloomers around her knees, unhook her garters from her
Supphose, and unzip her corset, ballooning out while she sighed
with pleaasure. She would then pull off bloomers and stockings
and drop them in the clothes hamper.

Now that she was naked she would examine herself carefully for
lumps and bruises, lifting her sagging boobs and looking at the
nipples, running her hands over her hairy potbelly and ass,
examining the hair under and on her arms and on her legs.

When she had dusted herself with powder she would spray her
crotch and armpits with perfume. If I was watching, she would
turn her face up for another kiss, then waddle into the bedroom.
I always wondered at how different she was naked -- you could
see the medallions of celluite on her ass and thighs, her boobs
hung down loosely to her waist, her belly thrust out in front of
her, her abundant hair was everywhere and overpowering. Even her
calves and lower thighs, without the support of Supphose, hung
down loosely.                                                   

I got used to her exhibitionism.Most nights I came into the
bathroom and talked to her and I began to stand behind her where
we could both see each other in the big dressing mirrors that
revealed a person from almost every angle. When she was out of
her corset and fixing her face I would move in close and start
running my hands over her paunch and pulling her big nipples.
She was a little embarrassed at me drawing open attention to
these flawed features of her body. Although she was realistic
about her age, she was somewhat disconcerted when I made a point
of telling her in detail the things I liked about her. She'd be
standing there in front of the mirror brushing her hair, her
face covered with cold cream, and I'd press up against her wide,
soft ass and stroke her belly.                                  
        	

"You know I love that big soft paunch of yours," I'd whisper in
her ear. "It feels lovely! So loose and flabby! Just what you'd
expect from a 71-year-old paunch! Let me explore every fold!"

"Stop it!" she'd say, but it wasn't deeply felt.

Then I would take her riight nipple and pull it down so that the
whole boob stretched.

"I love those stretch marks on your boobs and belly," I'd
whisper.

"You leave my breasts alone!" she say with simulated fury. "It's
bad enough being old and having flat breasts but you remind me
of my age!"

"Honey, I'm going to stretch that right tit down past your
navel," I'd said.

"Don't you dare!"

But I kept on and within a few days the right boob was several
inches longer than the left. Finally I was able to to pull her
tit up over her shoulder so I could suck and bite the nipple.

"I always wanted to do this ever since I read in National
Geographic about the Ubangi women who could throw their right
teat over their left shoulder to feed their babies."

"You're awful!"

But she soon was laughing and accepted it.

Then it was the turn of her big, wide ass.

"Now this is really something!" I told her. "I like the way an
old woman's pelvis spreads and the ass cheeks get so much
cellulite."

My cock would start out at half mast but soon it was thrusting
between her buttocks seeking her anus. She would squirm with
nervous expectation as the cock head slipped into the hollow of
her outer asshole.

"Careful!" she'd whisper urgently. "You haven't any vaseline!"

"I'll be careful, but I bet we don't need it."

She'd practically purr as my prick moved against her sensitive
anus. Now that she was well broken in the sphinctder muscle
didn't really exist any more and there was a mass of loose,
flabby skin where there used to be a tight pucker. So the plum
sizedd cock head would seat itself easily at the entrance to the
rectum.

"Okay, honey! Open up! Pretend you want to take a shit!"

(Remember that taking her nightly crap was the last thing she
did before coming to bed! This meant she needed to go to the
crapper now so she was torn between holding tight and letting me
do what I wanted. If she tensed her muscle as she would be doing
on the throne in a little while, there was always the danger
that she would really start shitting in earnest!)

"I don't have to pretend any more," she said wryly but I could
feel her buttocks and rectum tense, then relax. You can open an
asshole quite a lot that way and every time she relaxed I pushed
my cock farther in. She protested that it was hurting, dry like
that, but she really liked it and inch by inch it moved into her
until the glans had cleared the tight tube of the rectum. There
I would find plenty of shit and that would lubricate it better
than vaseline or K-Y jelly or anything else. Now I could pull
out knowing my cock was coated with slick shit and the real fuck
would start. She would be pumping her hips slowly and would turn
her face to me offering her open, toothless mouth. It was fun
kissing her that way while I was buggering her and pulling her
nipples dowan as far as they would go.

At other times I would squat down beside her and begin stroking
her breasts and belly. I might say something like this:

"You know, dear, there's nothing quite like an old woman's soft
paunch hanging down over her crotch. I love the stretch marks on
your belly and on your upper boobs. And it's darling the
flatness of her boobs, scarcely more than two thicknesses of
skin -- the long brown teats.."

Then I'd transfer my attentions to her ass and praise the way it
spread while my fingers found and rubbed the medallions of
cellulite. I would praise every wrinkle and fold and roll of
flab while she squirmed with a mixture of embarrassment and
pleasure. When we finally slipped away to bed, both of us were
completely aware of the disparity between our ages.

In the morning the process was reversed with her emerging at the
end as a tightly disciplined, handsome woman with a fine white
smile, all her flesh firm and glowing. But if we'd had a really
good session in the bathroom the right before she'd have to wear
a butt plug to keep her from shitting her pants. 

I encouraged her to wear heavy guage stockings in varying shades
of grey. I loved her big legs and told her so frequently,
delighted with the elastic weave that acted as a corset and gave
thighs, calves and ankles shape and definition. When she had
hooked up her garters, the flesh bulged out provocatively over
the tops of her stockings.

She was terribly pleased at the homage I paid to her legs, often
quite openly.  She confessed to me that as a young woman she had
been vain of her legs and liked to show them off. As she began
to put on weight she realized they were too big for real,   
conventional beauty but she did the best she could with suppose.
And then I came along raving about how I loved those legs! I let
her know that I loved to push my face up between them,
especially with her stockings on, and lap her cunt while she
crushed me between them. When she found I liked her to show off
her bloomers, she did it at every opportunity, making occasion
to let her skirt and slip slide back over her knees, to spread
her knees apart so that bloomers were on view, even to toy with
a bloomer-elastic "absent mindedly."


If necessary, I can be contacted at
wendigo69@hotmail.com

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