Able to Fuck

“You don’t get many of those to the pound man,” chuckled Winston.

“For fucks sake Winston. Piss off,” moaned Les.

“I am man,” roared the huge fat black man, noisily spraying the stainless steel urinal with such force, the youngster was sure he felt the odd splash on his hands.

As Les shook the drops off his own knob end, he couldn’t help glancing at the huge brown sausage like cock that his supervisor waved with such free abandon. Even allowing for the projection of Winston’s stomach, Les could see several inches of flaccid piss pumping penis, the flow seemingly endless. It was not the first time he had occasion to view the black man’s privates. Winston Sampson was often in the habit of showing it, sometimes at great risk to their work situation. Only two days ago, he had whipped it out of his overalls and waved it like a baton, while they worked in an office as an attractive, middle aged but very busty secretary earnestly told Les the location of the electrical supply in the main kitchen. The fact that she insisted on bending over the cupboard and peering in to where Les was squatting, did not help his own attempts to keep his libido in check, when her top fell forward, revealing many inches of lush pale cleavage and the top of a lacy black bra. But he managed to restrict himself to the odd glance as against Winston who was making all sorts of rude gestures, whilst bending down to see up her shortish skirt.

One of these days, he mused, Winston was going to be caught on the ever increasing CCTV set ups offices were setting up.

Equally at break times when Les and Winston would sit in their company van and eat their sandwiches, while reading the papers, he would either get it out and waggle it grotesquely at some glamorous celebrity photograph – or even more dismaying to Les, Winston would wave it some pretty or maybe not so pretty female passing by. But just enough not to be seen Les realised.

He knew Winston was married and had seven children and Les quite liked the eighteen year old Sampson daughter who worked at the offices of the same company as the two electricians. Nothing like her father – Josie was quiet, inhibited, pretty and slender with the most luscious smile, blindingly white teeth accentuated by the inky black tones of her skin and high round pert breasts. The whole of her desirable being was perched on two long slim legs which were always footed in kitten heel sandals, giving her the most sexy walk. Les chatted to her and that was as far as the young twenty two year old electrician had got with Josie, but the vibes seemed good.

Les washed his hands diligently and waited for Winston to join him in the van, hoping that the black man’s piss hadn’t stained his overalls as they were clean on that morning. He didn’t want his mother to have to handle piss stained work wear, she had enough to put up with, looking after Les’s lazy, unemployed, boozy father.

Their last job of the day was on a social housing area part of a new development, designed — at least in theory, to mix the social scales of the market town. Well off uneasily mingled with the poor off and all those beings in between and Les spotted the change in the house sizes as well as the exterior maintenance and upkeep across the social scales.

“What’s this one?” asked Winston wearily, parking outside a row of small one bedroomed dwellings. “Another fucking single sponging state supported mother as usual?”

“Certainly a woman, A Ms Smith, that’s all I can tell you. But she’s on the council lists, so it’s a get in quick and cheap and do the job as usual. Fairly new houses round here. Remember that one last week — round the corner. Same sort of house as this?” said Les.

“Yeah! I could have got in quick with her Les,” boomed Winston, energetically rubbing his crotch but managing to keep his tackle under cover. “Remember her tits, they were round near her waist. I love big sloppy tits like that”

“She must have been in her mid sixties for fucks sake….”protested Les until he was interrupted, but thinking that Winston’s wife Lettie had small tits.

“Yeah! But with nipples like chapel hat pegs man,” argued Winston. “A widow and no bra. Anyway, age no matter to Mr Winston Sampson.”

With that boast, the big man slid heavily from the driving seat of the Mercedes Sprinter three panel van and opened up the back doors for his tool box. Les joined him, shaking his head in disgust and wondering how long he would have to endure the ribald and downright filthy attitude of the overweight, overbearing senior electrician. Tool boxes and a sheaf of papers in hand, they approached the scruffy front door, which was slightly ajar.

It was opened by a small boy about two years old, who smiled happily up at them and stood to one side. The boy was naked except for a grubby vest, which didn’t hide his little cock. Les tutted at the sight as Winston bellowed into the depths of the home. At least, as befitted the protocols of the company, he didn’t just barge in un-announced. A female voice called out.

“Electric man?”

“Yes maam,” bellowed Winston.

“In here, first left, the kitchen,” she responded.

The two marched in and found the tiny room and were faced with the rear end of a woman bending over and peering into the under sink unit. Winston nudged Les heavily with his elbow as he made a great show of placing his tool box on the floor. Whilst stooping, he shoved his face forward and tried to see up her denim skirt, but it was too tight round her fleshy white thighs, although some half way up them. Les grimaced and despairingly shook his head before he spoke.

“Is the mains under there.. er Mrs Smith?”

“Water is. Electric is under the stairs, through there.”

A hand came out and flapped at them, but Les and Winston stared at the stumpy digits on the extreme end of a very tiny hand which was sprouting from a stunted forearm. They stood stupidly, glancing at each other – Winston’s eyes swivelling from Les, to the hand, to her backside which was of ample proportions and back to the hand. Winston gestured obscenely with his forearm towards her rump, which remained steadfastedly towards them for several minutes, until she sighed and started to unwind from the unit.

“Christ! That was a struggle,” she chuckled pleasantly, straightening up to her five feet height and facing them. “Ollie had lost his comforter, but I think George had hidden it from him. Found it?”

She waved a small furry toy and the child that had let them in, ran round their legs, grabbed the toy and curled himself round her right leg. His hand snaked up her inner thigh and disappeared from view up her skirt as he clung tightly to her. Les heard Winston groan with evil lust until she untangled the clinging child who scuttled from the kitchen. Somewhat dumbfounded, they faced the woman who was not pretty, but had big, brown partly hooded eyes which suggested a sort of exotic ancestry. Her mousy but glossy, thick hair was tied back from her square face in a bright red band.

A narrow upper torso, developed into classic pear shaped big hips, but the huge bump at her front betrayed her advanced state of pregnancy, as she leaned back against the sink unit.

“When’s that due?” blurted Winston rudely, nodding at her belly, trying to avoid the even more obvious malformations of her body.

“In seven weeks and that is a she,” she replied quietly but firmly. “George, leave Ollie alone.”

The last words were shouted past Les and his colleague into the hallway, where two boys squabbled, distracting Winston and Les for a moment from their blatant staring. They reverted to Ms Smith in unison and both sets of eyes took in the distorted pair of arms, jutting almost in a swaggering pose from her shoulders. Her purple shirt had short arms and a wide but not low vee neck. She had a small bust although there was a rim of spare flesh above a badly fitted brassiere. Her arms looked sturdy, but totally were only the length of normal arms to the elbow.

“Right — let’s make a start,” stammered Les. “In the hallway…Winston, under the stairs remember,” he jostled the big black man from his fixed stance.

The pair bumbled from the kitchen in confusion as she went past them, through the back lounge and into the garden, picking up a basket of washing from a table. Les and Winston watched her and grimaced at each other at the ease with which she did things, including hanging the washing out on a line.

“Thalidomide I’ll bet you,” Les murmured. “Poor thing.”

“Yeah. Weird isn’t it. Fucking normal otherwise and preggers for fucks sake,” added Winston quietly, watching Les squirm into the gap under the stairs. “Didn’t know they could have kids.”

“Course they do. She’s probably married….. Oh no – she’s a Ms, not a Mrs, but could be in a relationship. Torch please,” puffed Les, grabbing the black man’s trousers to remind him to concentrate on the job.

“Did you see that kid’s hand? Right up her skirt. Fucking hell, what I would give to do that. Bet it’s all warm, sweaty and not deformed up there,” Winston chuckled, but getting no reaction from a seriously concentrating Les.

Soon the work was done and the new security lights fitted outside, at back and front as Ms Smith fussed round the neat house, dealing with the two boys, making Les and Winston a cup of tea, answering the phone and ironing. The electricians got glimpses of her doing all the mundane chores without difficulty.

As they walked to their van Winston moaned.

“You and I have to pay for that work. She gets it fucking free. Crazy yeah?” he grunted.

“It’s only a couple of lights,” said Les, writing notes on the file.

“Mind you I’d wire the whole fucking house for free if I could shag her,” chortled Winston. “But not when she’s preggers. Leave her alone for a few months is what I do. It’s only right they have a little rest.”

Les shrugged his shoulders indifferently and wondered what it will be like to shag anyone, as he hadn’t tried it yet, although that was his secret.

“You wouldn’t force yourself on her would you?” he asked, putting the file in a tray.

“No force man. She’d want my dick when she saw it, like they all do. Christ! That’s why Lettie has seven. Can’t get enough of big boy here,” wheezed Winston, rumbling his genitals about with great glee. “But not when she’s got one in the oven.”

Les shook his head in distaste, but thinking at least Winston did have some morals and respect in not wanting to fuck a woman when she is pregnant. He thought and puzzled.

“The way you talk, what do you when she is pregnant?” he queried, wondering what the fat man’s reaction would be to this private intrusion.

“I do alright man. You know me heh heh! Give her it up the ass.” was the gleeful answer as the van was driven to base.


Two weeks later on a Friday, Les was despatched on his own to change the front security light which seemed faulty according to Ms Smith. He arranged the time with her to call on his way home as it was not out of his way. She seemed at ease with the fact that a faulty product had been installed, she just wanted it changed before the really dark nights came in.

Les parked his car down the road. It was after rush hour and several people were already home, blocking many of the parking places. He sauntered to her house, checking his watch and noting he was bang on time at 6.15pm and surveyed the light from the front garden before knocking her door. Ms Smith almost immediately opened it.

“Saw you from the bedroom,” she puffed. “Putting Ollie to bed, he’s tired out. Been to a party and George is with his Auntie Margaret for a birthday party then a sleep over.”

Les,. dismissing the information on the family, opened his collapsible ladder, tools and the new fitment and did the job easily, testing it time again, with Ms Smith approving. He watched how she clutched the top mound of her huge stomach, making the soft loose all enveloping, loose yellow shift ride up and expose her pudgy knees and the front of her pasty thighs

“You didn’t test it as much last time,” she told him and he agreed and apologised, getting her to sign his papers.

“Tea?” she asked.

“Yeah OK thanks,” he replied and gathered his things to take his car.

Just then a vision left the front door. The most gorgeous looking young girl trotted past on very high heels, her bouncy breasts encased in a tight red crop top, which exposed about six inches of bare skin before her black hipster pedal pushers, complete with the fashionable exposure of the top inch of a white thong hugged her arse. She smiled generously at Les and he stammered a sort of greeting, but was dumb struck by her raving beauty as her undulating butt retreated from his view. He had noted her short, spiky, gel styled, brunette hair and her skilfully made up face and wondered who this good looking chick could be.

He ditched his tools and papers in his car.

Ms Smith had told him the door would be ajar and on his return he heard the unmistakable sound of a power drill from the lounge. Puzzled – he wandered in, just as he heard a female voice wail and burst into tears. He entered the room.

“Oh the fucking thing,” Ms Smith sobbed, as she knelt on a cushion which seemed precariously placed on a low cabinet. “Why can’t I do these things on my own?”

She held a cordless drill in her little hands and seemed to be trying to drill into the wall. Les neared her and spoke, not without noticing the seeming lack of panty line under her shift. His months of working with Winston had insinuated some of the filthy black man’s thoughts and ideas. He liked panty lines and noticed that Josie at work didn’t seem to have any, but reckoned she would wear a thong. Involuntarily, he found his cock throbbing.

“Can I help Ms Smith?” he asked gently, wondering why she was doing this instead of making the promised tea.

“It’s Muriel, not Mrs,” whined the woman, glancing over her shoulder, with tear stained eyes. “I’m not married.”

“Sorry,” muttered Les. “Still, can I help then?”

She ignored him and tried to start drilling again, using only one arm and he watched helplessly as her stunted arm vibrated and her tiny hand slid over the chunky handle of the tool. He could see what the problem was immediately and tried to take the tool from her.

“It’s the wrong speed……”

His words were cut short as she whirled defiantly on him. As her mouth opened to retort, the cushion slipped. Luckily the power tool crashed from her hands, bounced on the stool she must have used to climb up with and down to the floor as Muriel lost her balance. Les went to grab her. His knees fouled on the edge of the stool. She slid backwards, heavily against him, his hands round her upper torso, her butt against his crotch. For a moment, they were suspended in time and motion as each one realised the predicament they were in. No danger, no injury, just two persons locked together as the thing that was silencing and stilling them – Les’s instant growing erection, thrust dramatically into her arse crack. The sudden intimacy of contact, her tits resting on his forearms, the thin material of her shift not managing to mask the soft warmth of her bounteous body all contributed to the young man’s sexual arousal.

Muriel’s arms started to wave as if to signal the need for release, then they hung stiffly over Les’s strong limbs, but she turned her head. She grinned and gave the slightest wiggle of her butt as he allowed her to lower one leg, then the other to the floor.

“You naughty electrician. Honestly — all you workmen are all the same. Catch a lady unawares and you’re wanting to shag them,” she chuckled throatily.

Les dropped his arms and spun away, flustered and Muriel stumbled back to regain her equilibrium. He apologised profusely as Muriel slowly turned and leaned back against the cabinet. He stood motionless, his face flame red with embarrassment, dying to fumble with his trousers to try and hide what was jutting from his crotch. Muriel grinned at his crotch but didn’t say a word, but as Les stared, her tee-shirt began to rise over her thighs and he watched her miniature hands gradually pull the garment upwards, ever higher as her plump thighs came fully into view.

Les squeaked. Muriel giggled as the huge bump of her pregnancy loomed into view, completely masking her crotch with it’s low slung enormity.

“Muriel…!” he gulped as the shirt was drawn ever higher, his guess at no knickers proving correct.

Les saw the pronounced lump of her navel and a strange dark brown stripe from it, curving down over the dome of her swollen belly until it disappeared beneath the overhang. Then her cute tits were exposed by Muriel who kept an unwavering smile on her face as she watched his embarrassed yet fascinated gaze. She clutched the gathered cotton over her tits as Les took in the full extent of her blooming body and especially the extremely dark circles round her nipples. The circles had even darker rims to them and seemed to be standing proud of the inner disc shape, which in turn encompassed an almost brown/black plump teat.

“Like it?” she murmured. “A pregnant body. Ever seen one before?”

“No!” Les stammered, captivated. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. More?” she lisped, chuckling at his immediate nods. “Well then I’ll have to lie down if you want to see my pussy. That right?”

Les mewed and squeaked, but the words wouldn’t emerge from his dry mouth. What made her do this? Muriel took his furblings as a yes and waddled heavily to the sofa, as Les watched the undulating roll of her buttocks beneath the gathered tightness of her shirt, which had refused to roll up over the mass of her butt. She sat down, still holding her shirt high as Les pinched himself, wondering if this was a dream. Why him and not Winston? The answer was easy, he reasoned — the black man wasn’t here, but why at this point of time, why him, why was she horny when she was about to pop? The questions rolled through him as he let his erection take over, forgetting the fact that it strained forward at his trouser leg, trapped in the tube of material, not allowing it to rise and jut forth. Muriel beckoned him closer and told him to kneel down beside her, which he obeyed.

Read More Stories :  A Walk in the Park

She opened her legs wide and Les got a whiff of female odours as her pasty white thighs parted. He liked the scent and inhaled it as his eyes homed in on the forested vee of her crotch.

“Sorry about the hairs, but I can’t reach you see,” she simpered with mock shame.

“No no it’s alright,” he gurgled, bravely shuffling forward between her knees.

He couldn’t care less about the hairy aspect of her cunt. He knew all about that sort of thing from the dozens of porno magazines he had invested in over the years. In fact he quite liked it hairy, but as he hadn’t experienced a hairy, even less a shaved or semi shaved cunt before, Les’s preferences were wide open anyway.

“You can touch if you want,” Muriel told him gently.

Les licked his lips and wondered the best way to touch her. He reached forward and to Muriel’s delight he stroked the dome of her lower belly, his forefinger delicately tracing the strange line that divided it, from her navel to her cunt. Gently he smoothed his hand over her soft taut skin, amazing her with his gentleness and the fact he didn’t crudely dive in and prod around. Slowly his hand filtered lower, into the hairy nest and she helped by shunting her heavy torso lower so that she was virtually lying down. Les fumbled around in the warm bush and finding moistness, he fingered into it and found a decidedly wet gash. He knew what to expect, he just hadn’t felt one.

He glanced up at her face and got a smile of encouragement and a contented sigh from Muriel, who was gripping her right nipple between her tiny fingers. Les placed two hands into her crotch and pulled the soft mound open. Her hairs tickled his hands slightly as he gazed in wonderment at the red gash that stickily opened. It was glistening wet and he revelled in the first real close up of an actual pussy, rather than the glossy pictures he had wanked to over the years.
“Fuck me…what’s your name? I’m sorry,” Muriel murmured.

“Les,” he stammered, not taking his eyes from the treasure trove of cunt he had found.

It’s distinctive smell permeated his nostrils as Muriel tensed her inner muscles and made her inner labia undulate.

“Les, please fuck me now. I so need a cock inside me,” she gurgled throatily.

“But…?” he whimpered, nodding at her belly.

“It’s OK. You won’t hurt me. Go on do it,” she urged.

“I haven’t any cond…..” he spluttered, suddenly unsure and a touch frightened.

“Silly thing. Don’t need them with me like this do you?” Muriel chortled gently. “Give me your big cock Les.”

He had never been spoken to like that before and Les liked it. He didn’t have a big cock, at least he didn’t think he had, but he was getting the chance to use it and try it out with someone who couldn’t get into trouble. Muriel turned onto her side and waved her little arm at him to come up to her back as he stared at the magnificent vista of her bounteous buttocks piled on top of each other.

“It’s a bit more comfy for me from the back. You don’t mind?” she asked.

“No,” his voice wavered as he dropped his pants, staring at the dark crack of her arse and the tips of hairs peeking out from it.

His cock snapped upright and Muriel purred with delight as she watched Les, kick his work trousers and underpants off.

“Curl in behind me and fuck me Les. It’ll be alright, you’ll manage,” she urged him gently, gradually realising that this just could be his first time.

Les clambered onto the sorely loaded sofa and managed to get his crotch aimed at Muriel’s. He grasped his immensely hard cock and stuffed it between her cheeks and Muriel shifted her position to accommodate his proddings. She squeaked as he thrust on sensing a moistness and whispered that that was her arsehole and to try further round. Les apologised and slid along and shoved his prick in amongst the wonderfully soft pillows of her buttocks as he sensibly prised them apart to create a bigger slot. Suddenly his knob squelched into a wet mire and he pushed. Muriel grunted as she felt their bodies lock together at last. She tilted her torso back at him, making Les push deeper and finding her hole suddenly opening to his urgent thrustings. In seconds he was totally inserted and for a moment he paused, just to sense and inhale the magic of a hot box, gripping his dick for the first time. How he had dreamed of this moment, so many times imagining his fist to be some pop star’s minge, some TV presenter’s twat, his local barmaid’s pussy, even his raunchy Auntie Evelyn’s mott. Muriel sensed his youthful excitement and let him stay quiet for a short while until she suggested he should fuck her very very hard and quickly.

Enthusiastically, Les commenced and soon she was uttering all sorts of filthy oaths and expressions in time to the rapidly increasing pace of his cuntal attack. His arms crept daringly round Muriel and he cupped and cuddled her squashy little boobs as she gripped his forearms with her mis-shapen fingers. She tightened her butt and gripped his shaft as it plunged effortlessly between them, making it seem that her fanny was much deeper than that in which he was penetrating. His arse bucked solidly for a few minutes then with an eruption like no other he had experienced in all his solitary wanking, he came into the ready receptacle of her pregnant vagina. A scream of relief froze on his lips, the noise in mime, not passing his lips but there in every way but decibel reading.

Muriel sighed and gripped his arms, pressing them to her bosoms, his hands becoming sticky with her body heat and sweat until she released them and he fondled her enormous belly. Again she wondered at his gentleness as his heaving panting body regained a normal heart rate and his breathing steadied. Les’s cock slid wetly out and dangled limply against her lower buttock. Muriel sighed again and turned lumpily, trapping his under arm, until she allowed him to extract it from under her massive weight.

“That was very good Les,” she murmured smoothing his cheek with her tiny hand.

“Yeah! I’ll say,” he chuckled with a smile, realising he needed to slide off the sofa.

“How old are you?” she queried, she grinned down at his kneeling position.

“Twenty two,” Les replied.

“I’m thirty six. Your first time?”

Les gulped and mumbled and she patted his face hearing a positive sound from the lad who hid his face in her neck.

“Hey! It’s OK Les. We’ve all got to start somewhere,” Muriel soothed him. “Better with someone who knows about these things and needs them eh?”

“Yeah! I guess so. Where is your husband?”

‘Haven’t got one and separated from the kid’s dad. He’s a bastard that Terry in some ways, but at least he pays for their upkeep,” Muriel told him. “He had this too.”

She gestured to her arms and grimaced. Les nodded and looked sympathetically at her.

“Didn’t put you off obviously,” Muriel chuckled. “I’m glad ‘cos I love shagging.”

“No way. Never gave it a thought. It just sort of happened didn’t it?” said Les, stroking her arms. “It was weird me coming in and expecting a cup of tea and you drilling the wall. What happened?”

“That’s me Les. That’s the trouble I suppose. He couldn’t stand my erratic swings such as that,” she said with some venom, the word he almost spat out. “My mind switches suddenly and takes over. The wall was a job he’s been promising to do for ages. It’s for a shelf and I thought I’d do it myself. Terry marked it ready to drill and it just came into my brain. Odd eh?” Muriel asked. “But when I saw your stiffy and I’m so hot for cock, it had to happen. Even odder?”

“Suppose so,” countered Les, shrugging. “Wouldn’t worry me — your mood swings.”

“You’re nice,” Muriel murmured snuggling her face into his. “Tea?”

“You will make it this time?” laughed Les as Muriel nodding, started get up.

He allowed her to sit up, helping her as she found it difficult to rise from the sofa. She took off her creased shift and left it on the sofa. Les still wore his shirt. Socks and boots were also still intact. He felt suddenly stupid as the naked woman eyed him up and down. She grinned at him affectionately, her cheeks puckering cutely, his shirt falling over his crotch, just his thighs and knees visible. For a moment as he sat alongside her, he stroked her loaded stomach and cupped her tits until Muriel sighed then stood and puffed loudly with the effort, arching her back and placing her hands on her sides as she stretched. He watched her waddle away, her bum cheeks rolling sumptuously, her thick thighs marked with cellulite, her lower legs sturdy down to slightly thick ankles, her little arms jutting in a sort of bombastic looking way, until she disappeared from the room.

Les dressed completely and waited, listening to the sounds of tea making. He looked round the room, the usual photographs adorning the walls alongside cheaply framed but colourful prints of Beryl Cook paintings. The cheap furniture and scruffy carpet gave away her status, but he didn’t care. For Les to finally to get his rocks off properly was a major step forward and he wondered how he could do it again. Muriel reappeared, still naked with a tray of mugs, the pot, milk and sugar. She sat heavily beside him and poured two steaming amounts of the boiling drink.

“Do you manage completely on your own then?” he asked tentatively, not sure if an intrusive question would be appreciated.

“More or less. The kids try to help of course,” she stated firmly. “Why shouldn’t I manage? Because of these, no way.”

Muriel’s almost scoffing answer and waving of her ugly little limbs made Les blush.

“I’m registered disabled and get social help financially, plus other benefits, so I do alright money wise. Everything works on me you know,” she added seriously. “Me — I mean. The body works regardless of my disablement. I can have kids obviously and I still go to toilet and everything else.”

Les nodded as he raised his mug to his lips.

“But some jobs are difficult, but I get them done finally,” she said softly. “The wall for instance. But one things for sure.”

“What’s that,” he asked.

“I might be disabled, but I’m able to fuck.” she cackled throatily. “And I love it — love it.”

“Can see that,” murmured Les after sipping more tea. “You know I didn’t intend it to happen…I mean it wasn’t on my mind. You fell on to me.”

“I know that silly, but I was really horny just then. It was if I was just off my period and really need a good screwing right after it,” Muriel confided, laying back on the sofa, before continuing. “Can’t explain. But Terry was the same, he used to pull on the string and whip the tampon out and shag me senseless sometimes. For all his faults and deserting me, I miss him for his shagging.”

Les looked at her body in it’s blooming pregnant glory.

“You can’t have periods,” he suggested.

‘Not now, of course not, but I was even randier then?” she chuckled, then not wishing to embarrass him further she continued on another tack. “Suppose I’m always horny really.”

‘Fucking doesn’t stop then. Like when you’re…”

“Pregnant? No of course not. Why would I let you otherwise?”

Les nodded and smiled.

“Suppose so. Better get your wall done. Let me eh?”

Muriel nodded and grinned.

“Go on then, I’ll rest here for a while and watch the working man. My bit of rough heh heh,” she chuckled.

“Ollie never woke up,” he chuckled as he sorted what needed to be done.

“Nah! He’s so tired each day it’s easy to put him down. Sleeps like a log — out for the count,” she added contentedly.

He worked easily and efficiently and cleaned up the dust with her vacuum cleaner. Muriel reposed, watching his every lithe, light move. He was not a bulky or well built man and as he turned with a self satisfied grin holding out his hands, which he then bashed against each other in a gesture of completion, Muriel beckoned him to the sofa. She made him stand in front of her as she eased her huge body forward to the edge of the cushions. Les peered down at her small perky tits sat atop her swollen stomach as she adeptly handled his clothing. In an instance his belt was undone and his zip down and she hauled out his donger.

“Muriel…” he started to question, but she put her hands to her lips.

Her child like hands teased his flaccidity into a rock hard erection in minutes and she lovingly wrapped her lips round Les’s knob end and started to suck with such force he had never known. With each inward breath, she seemed to be dragging the blood from his dangling ballocks and he moaned in ecstasy , Untutored in sex in all it’s forms, he innocently started to shunt his butt in and out as if fucking her gob. Muriel slowed him but didn’t stop until she indicated he should take his trousers and pants off and lie down. Moments later, she straddled a mystified and urgently panting for more Les, her face at his groin and likewise. Her gross belly billowed over him, her hips high, her shoulders low as she started to suck once more.

He had the vista of her cunt hovering over his face and he looked in awe, his eyes flicking back and forth to it and her belly and wondering how a child could escape through such a small orifice. Admittedly he had shafted it to the full with her complete acquiescence, but his cock although not small had fitted so neatly into the seeming endlessly elastic hole. A bubble of her lubrication appeared, glistening on the outer edges of her labia, then another, followed by a glob of his cum, although Les didn’t realise this. It looked so delicious and natural – he just had to elevate his head and lap at the offering. Muriel wiggled her butt with pleasure and lowered it slightly, but her movements were hampered by the sheer size of her expectancy.

As Les licked at the odd mixture of liquids which he found he quite liked, he had the feeling that his cock was entering a much tighter orifice, but had no idea other than Muriel was sucking him in the classic 69 position. He parted her pussy lips with his fingers and gazed close up at the delicate structure of her vagina, enjoying the colourful aspect of the myriad wrinkles and folds, before it funnelled into a deep and dark chasm. With the boyish enthusiasm of someone experiencing – say his first roller coaster ride, his first ice cream lollipop, his first exotic fruit and it seemed like all of these to Les, he dived into the pleasures of cunnilingus with abandonment.

He spotted her arsehole, the knot of purple muscle peeping from the cluster of hair matted throughout her crack. It looked moist and interesting but he dared not to touch it for fear of annoying Muriel. Suddenly he felt his jism bubbling and couldn’t believe the suction being applied. Muriel’s expertise in deep throating him was proving successful and she gobbled on his six inches of prime cock, rolling his testicles softly, inducing them to give up the precious second load of his new sex life. As it spurted into her gullet, Muriel sucked and swallowed and drank every last drop as Les moaned and writhed beneath her. Forgetting her cunt and his tasty exploration, his orgasm surmounted all pleasures and the need for him to administer pleasure in return. He luxuriated in the sheer power of her throat until finally Muriel gasped and raised her head off his cock and flopped tiredly onto him. For a moment, her bulk un-nerved him with it’s intense weight, but she soon slid sideways, back on to the sofa and she grinned happily at him, their heads at opposite ends, their faces greasy with sexual juices and discharges, their eyes smirking their pleasure.

“Who was the girl I saw leaving?” he finally broke the easy silence.

“Ah! That would be Kylie,” Muriel answered. “Fancy her did you?”

‘No, er! well you know…” Les stammered.

Muriel just smiled.

“Pretty girl that one. She’s Terry’s daughter from his first marriage. His wife died and I took her in. She lives here,” Muriel told him.

He thought about the dreaded Winston’s reaction if Kylie had been here the first time the team had visited.

“Christ! She lives here. She could have come back in when we were…”

“Fucking? No she’s out for the evening. Never tells me where or when she’s coming back. Bit of a pain that way. I really need to know, for Terry’s sake you understand,” Muriel said thoughtfully.

Les nodded.

“She helps of course?” he asked.

“Oh yeah! No problem. She’s great round the house and with the boys. Makes a change with the youth of today,” Muriel giggled heartily. “I mean he’s often here too. He’s not the total bastard everyone makes him out to be. Knows he gets a good fuck when he comes, but it’s always moaning from him. Me me me — he goes on. I get sick of it, send him off then I miss his cock.”

She burst into a happy chortle and Les joined in, happy in her relaxed, uncomplicated company.

“Now Prince Charming has come to fix me up,” she chuckled, sliding heavily over the sofa. “You will do it again won’t you Les? Fix me up — my special needs.”

Muriel snuggled into his waiting cuddle and he stroked her breasts, watching how her verdant milkers rose to his tender touch. She sighed and shuddered with the sensation caused by the friction on her nipples which hardened.

“You’ll be reported for putting too many maintenance claims into the council,” he told her with a laugh.

“You can come out of hours. You can cum any time I’ll bet, big strong lad like you,” Muriel suggested. “You will won’t you?”

“Sure — you bet. You know you’re my first fuck Muriel. Big confession. Terrible isn’t it, at my age.”

“So what Les? You are good and the nice thing about you, is that you’re gentle and slow with it. Most fellas out there want their evil way, get their rocks off and fuck off. No thought about how the girl feels.”

“Really? Me and my mates don’t talk about it much,” he told her, not telling her he didn’t have any mates.

“You don’t mind me being a lot older do you?” she asked quietly. “Say if you do.”

“What happens if I say yes?” he gazed at her.

“I’ll understand. I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll understand.”

“You think Kylie is more my type?” he asked.

“Shit! No she isn’t,” said Muriel vehemently, her body shifting away slightly, surprising Les with her sharp reaction.

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“OK OK – she isn’t, alright? It was a question more than a statement,” he soothed.

“She just might be your type Les but she’s much too young. I mean there’s an age difference between you and I, but she’s only thirteen…”

Les exploded with an amazed cry and sat up, making Muriel slide ungracefully onto the bed of the sofa.

“Thirteen? Fucking thirteen? She looks seventeen – eighteen even,” he protested.

He shook his head in amazement as Muriel snuggled back into his cuddle. The silence was comfortable as he pondered. The girl’s age, dress, make up, school, friends, activities were discussed at length until Muriel satisfied Les on Kylie’s status and how he viewed her. Another pot of tea was offered, Les accepting but stating he needed to have a piss.

Muriel pointed out the location of the bathroom upstairs and still totally naked he made his way into the bright, cheaply decorated room. As he pissed, marvelling at the strength and length of his urinatry need, he spotted the wash basket across the bathroom. Having just read a story in a porno magazine about a panty sniffer it suddenly dawned on Les that with a chick like Kylie even though she was only thirteen, in the household, there could be some pretty good examples of the sniffers targets in the basket. He had no idea why he was attracted to the idea, but the story had raised his wanking experience to new heights, recalling the stupendous cumming it had created.

The girl was a stunner, shapely, pretty in an earthy sort of way and very well versed in dress, makeup and presentation. She must be shagging around he mused as he shook his knob drips off. What girl goes out dressed like that without pulling a man, he pondered as he housed his cock and zipped up before stepping across the scruffy shag pile carpet to the basket. With a last look at the locked door, he removed the lid and dug into the clothing housed in the wicker basket.

It was pretty full, mostly of young boy’s clothing both outer and under. A couple of brassieres were hooked out and he examined them at length, undecided who they belonged to. A large pair of plain white pants were pulled to the top and Les held them up determining they must be Muriel’s, by the size and shape. No way would a street cred chick like Kylie wear such uncool undies he reckoned in his new found woman wisdom. However, the sniff factor rushed through him. Why — he didn’t know, but it would be a pity to discard the pussy pouch garment of the one woman who had broken his virginity and showed him so much excitement.

Tentatively, he looked inside the briefs and saw the stains on the gusset. Slightly yellow and crusty, he felt the dry marks and then almost as if in secret he slowly raised them to his face. The odour pulsated at him. Undeniably strong cuntal scents filled his nostrils as he breathed in again and again. What a rush. Les hefted his cock as he snorted his new found fix and wanted more. He dropped the undies back in and rummaged once more.

And then Bingo!

In one last sweeping tumble of all the garments, up popped a tiny white tangle of material. A small handful of soft cotton was cradled in his hand and for a few seconds, Les gazed reverently at it, his hands shaking with excitement. Was this a new fetish establishing itself? Carefully he unravelled the tiny garment until he held up the thong that he knew must be Kylie’s. The slender front panel, white and lacy, leading down to the elasticated string but just before that there was the triangular patch of more substantial material — the gusset. It harboured no stains that he could see, but he was curious and excited.
Les lifted it to his face and inhaled lustily, finding the odours sweeter and more delicate than the previous sniff experience but still unmistakably cunt odours. As he tried to unravel one small crease, he found to his delight that the unstained gusset was still damp. They must have been a pair she discarded and changed just before she went from the house. His new found perversion racked up several notches as he placed the inner folds of the gusset to his face and pressed it to his nose and mouth. It was fresh, new, intimate dampness he was feeling against his skin and he loved it. He imagined Kylie’s pussy at his mercy, to suck and lick to his heart’s content. Would it be a totally bald pussy or with a starter growth of pubes at her age? Yes – she was only thirteen but she looked eighteen didn’t she? And he was only admiring — no, lusting perversely over her panties, there are no laws against that and then…

“Les, – you alright?”

The cry of a worried Muriel echoed up the stairs. Les dropped the thong like a hot potato and shuffled the garments in the wash basket around, before opening the door and then remembering to flush the toilet. He saw his sex partner gazing up the stairs and then suddenly Ollie cried out from his bedroom to Les’s left.

“Shit! I’ve woken him up. I was worried about you,” whispered Muriel as Les descended. “Maybe he’ll go off again. You OK?”

“Yeah, yeah! Just felt a bit queezy you know. Don’t know why, haven’t eaten anything odd,” he replied, hoping the guilt wasn’t flashing across his face as he descended the stairs.

Muriel giggled throatily.

“Oh yeah! Well you had a little snack earlier didn’t you? On the sofa?”

“Muriel…” Les scolded with gentle humour as he was stopped on the bottom step by her tiny arms groping for his crotch.

He leaned over the huge bulge of her belly and kissed her gently, as her miniature hands felt into his clothes and found his cock. He was ashamed on realising it was semi- hard, but Muriel thought he was aroused by her touch and intimacy in the hallway of her home.

“Mmm! Oh yes. Let’s go up to bed Les,” she suggested. “It’s more comfy there.”

“But.. Ollie..” he worried

“He’s gone off again and we’ll be on the opposite side of the landing with the doors closed. It’ll be alright. Trust me, I live here,” she chuckled pushing at him to turn round and mount the stairs.

Eagerly they both stripped naked and cuddled on the bed. Les took time out to admire in full the blooming beauty of Muriel’s pregnant shape in the more private and relaxed atmosphere of the bedroom, until he was again rampantly hard. This time he thought he would try to be the dominant partner and slapped her rump gently to lay on her side. Muriel giggled with delight.

“I can kneel up for you if you like. Doggy fashion. My fave position actually and quite comfy at present. You can go in really hard and deep like that.”

“I’m all for that. Something new. It’s like a dream,” chuckled Les as he helped her turn.

The fuck he enjoyed seemed more exciting and Les managed to stave off the imminent cumming moment as he drank in the exotic if meaty and hairy sights of his lover’s derriere. Her ring piece winked at him like a hot jungle pool, from the depths of a dark crater amongst snowy white mountains. The mass of hair surrounding it was like a dense rain forest he was exploring for the first time in his life.

The climax was heart stopping as Muriel manipulated her clitoris to coincide with his searing eruption deep inside her cunt and they subsided in a sweaty, giggling heap on her bed. They dozed off to sleep, interrupted by Ollie’s wakening and her attention. Muriel made Les relax while she fussed about and she reappeared with a tray of toasted ham and cheese sandwiches, a pot of tea and some chocolate biscuits.

“I suppose you think I’m a bit of a whore,” said Muriel, after her tongue attempted to retrieve chocolate biscuit from her chin.

Les grimaced in surprise.

“The way I came onto you, downstairs. The drill, the wall, falling you know,” she prompted.

“Well I was surprised, but you saw… and felt my reaction. It was amazing really, so sudden,” he told her.

“Oh I felt it alright,” Muriel giggled. “But seriously, it was one of those moments which happen quite often to me and you happened to be there.”

“So what happens if it wasn’t me. Any fella would do. That what you mean?” he countered.

“No no Les. It isn’t like that. Yes I get really horny but I have ways of sorting myself out, but if the electricity is right, I mean between people and it’s convenient…like it was down stairs…”

Her voice tailed off as Les studied her open face, her tiny hand suspended in mid air, on the way to lifting her tea cup to her mouth.

“I know what you mean. I think. Look I’m new to this. New to sex and the emotions round it, so I can take what you say and believe it Muriel. I am so happy it happened. Let’s leave it at that,” he murmured with a smile.

Muriel sighed, Les sighed and the subject was changed.

As darkness fell, Les thought about going home, but he was happy in Muriel’s company and she seemed in no hurry to kick him out. But other things nagged him.

“What if Terry comes?” he asked.

“He’s got a long way to travel. He’s in Saudi for another three weeks,” Muriel told him, snuggling his head into her chest. “And when he does get back he will be pissed for about a week so I won’t see him. He brought me this back last time.”

She waved her little arm and flashed a large ornate gold ring on her little finger at him.

“He brought Kylie a necklace with Saudi diamonds set in a gold mount too.”

Les didn’t ask what Terry was doing and she didn’t offer, but he felt a pang of jealousy stab him and then felt stupid.

“So what if Kylie comes in and I’m here?” he quizzed further.

“It’s not her business anyway. She won’t look in here if she did. Keeps herself to herself most times, but she’s OK. No real trouble. Never brings boys home which is good,” Muriel told him.

“Does she come in late then? I mean it’s nearly nine and she’s only thirteen.”

“That’s the one problem I have with her, but I’ve got used to it. Her late nights worry me, but she always gets here, that’s the main thing. You’re right though.” sighed Muriel, idly cupping her tits and offering the engorged nipples for Les to suckle. “Nine is not late though, not for the kids these days.”

“Mummfffsssmmmffphhh,” mumbled Les, his lips full of sweet teat.

She laughed at him and thrust more of her bosom at him. He tenderly stroked the full expanse of her chest, fondling her left breast then the huge dome of her belly as he feasted on her right teat.

“Do you know what? You are so gentle. The most gentle bloke I have ever been with and I’ve been with a few…Mmmm! That’s nice. If you were younger, you would be the bloke I would like Kylie to go out with,” she told him.

“You mean I could fuck you and go with Kylie? That would be nice,” he chuckled.

Muriel slapped his shoulder sharply and glared at him.

“You evil dirty bastard. I wouldn’t want you if you were young enough to go with her and I wouldn’t want you to fuck her,” she pouted with mock hurt. “Would you?”

“Would I fuck her? Don’t be daft Muriel. She’s thirteen…oh! I see what you mean. If we were the same age or so. It depends I suppose,” Les countered.

She glared sternly at him challenging his throw away comment and he thought fast.

“Like it would depend on our relationship and if she wanted to. She’s a good looking girl you know, credit to what I am sure is your influence,” he added.

“You say the nicest things Les,” sighed Muriel. “I can’t get angry with you and you’re right. She’s almost too good looking. Her Mum was a stunner. I’ve seen photos.”

“Kylie must have a boyfriend. They’d be daft not to be chasing her,” said Les, getting up from the bed. “Must have a piss.”

“Leave the door open, I want to hear you. Love that noise. Reminds me of the force of cocks. I love cocks,” giggled Muriel rolling to her side.

He shook his head and grimaced despairingly and departed for the bathroom. He left the door open and pissed forcibly straight into the water and he heard Muriel laugh. It had crossed his mind to delve into the wash basket again and find the thong and possibly more treasures from Kylie’s underwear, now he was thinking about her. He didn’t dare this time, so he washed his hands. As he turned to reach for a towel, he was surprised by Muriel standing against the door watching him.

“Not many men do that Les.,” she said softly, crossing the room and putting the toilet seat down and sitting.

Seconds later, Les heard the rushing splash of her urine and realised she meant him to hear, not bustling him out of the room. Happily she grinned up at him as he smiled back, somehow at immediate ease with this sharing of bodily functions. He watched her wipe her cunt, by tearing a wadge of paper and placing it on the toilet lid and sitting on it.

“You never will see me shit by the way. That is private – very,” she told him, flushing the paper away with her waste water. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

The pair of physically ill-matched naked adults crossed the landing and entered a bedroom. It was obviously a young girl’s room and therefore Kylie’s and Les’s eyes roamed the pop, football and film star posters. The room was neat and tidy which slightly surprised him, but he had no experience of teenage boudoirs. Muriel slid open a door and rummaged inside. Les couldn’t resist sidling up behind her and rubbing his groin at her bent over buttocks. Muriel wriggled pleasantly back on him and he felt his cock surge with interest once more.

She straightened up and turned, raising her eyebrows and turning her lips in while flourishing a vibrator. He shook his head in surprise but stayed quiet, his mind whirling on the idea that Kylie’s pussy must be alive with sexual desires already — at thirteen.

“She knows I know she’s got it. She showed it to me about two months ago. It was when her periods started, she was dead late, not like me, I was ten when mine kicked in, anyway we talked about tampons and pads you know?” she glanced quizically at Les and he nodded sagely, but only knowing the briefest things about the subject. “She just came straight out with it. Showed me it and said she used it lots and told me she wouldn’t let boys touch her, well at least shag her, she used the word shag. Must admit even I was stunned,” chuckled Muriel.

“So she’s not shagging but satisfying herself with that,” stated Les, just to keep the conversation flowing. He liked it.

“Yeah! That’s it in one Les. Got to accept her word haven’t I? Haven’t told Terry though. He would go tits up if he knew. He thinks she’s a little princess and untouchable.”

Certainly a little princess, he thought as Muriel replaced the plain neutral coloured vibrator. He glanced round the room again and spotted the chest of drawers near Kylie’s bed. Got to be her undies in there, clean but hers. His cock surged and Muriel bent and grabbed it lustily. She sank to her knees with a grunt and started to gobble on his swiftly rising dick, deep throating him with gusto as Les closed his eyes and dreamed that it could be the thirteen year old in her room doing this. Swiftly he reproached himself for such low down, perverted thoughts but his mind kept straying to the idea that Kylie might do blow jobs for her boy friend or friends.

The sex in the pink hued room was full of tension as the experienced disabled woman gobbled on his shaft. It was urgent, direct and lusty. Getting him off was uppermost in Muriel’s mind and she wanted to taste his cum once more. Les held her head gently and used it. Fucking her slavering mouth as she relentlessly sucked until finally he gave the fecund seed freedom from his swinging balls and pumped it into her swallowing gullet.

Les sank back and luckily the wall supported him as he panted and Muriel licked his softening knob end. He gazed down at her happily, seeing the cum splats round her lips, her hooded eyes sparkling back at him and her tits wobbling with every movement of her cruelly stunted body. Finally he helped her stand and they embraced and for the first time kissed lips sharing the taste and moisture of her saliva and his jism.

Without a word, she led Les from Kylie’s room and pulled the door shut.

“God knows how many times I’ve cum tonight Muriel, but I’m knackered,” he told her, slumping on the edge of her bed.

“Counting doesn’t matter, it’s the quality and you’ve got it in gallons Les darling,” she grinned laying luxuriously heavy on the bed. “But I’m as knackered as you. Think we will call time yeah?”

He agreed and dressed, not washing, telling her he wanted her scents on him as long as they would last. Muriel turned her nose up and told him he might not like it after a while, adding that it wasn’t as nice as the taste and smell of his cum.

They parted tenderly, Les leaving her in the bedroom and stepping out into the cool darkness on the active social housing estate. Youths played football on some grass. groups of people hung around on street corners, kids rattled by on skate boards and cars roared up and down, their occupants showing off to the detriment of any pedestrians stupid enough to wander into their path. Les shuddered at the way some people lived and thanked his lucky stars for the way his parents had brought him up and the comfortable life provided for him

The fact that he had a healthy body, totally normal and functioned in every way, had learned a trade and held down a job always soothed him in troubled times, but suddenly he was on a high with the new love interest in his life. A person he found able to feel affection for and one able to fuck despite her pitiful affliction.


Updated: April 16, 2018 — 3:45 AM

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