Anusphilia Chapter 2
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Grammy Cleo greeted me as I entered the house.
I chuckled and said, "You know I did."
"Tired from an elderly lady?" she inquired.
I laughed, bent down, kissed her, caressed her breast, and said, "Never, but not until you feed me."
"Too early for dinner, Sweetheart," she answered, scooting forward and raising her skirt, revealing the conservative granny dress she wore.
"Were you always this sexual?" I asked, as I went down on my knees, "Or is this something new?"
"Your Grandpa Phil and I were active, Sweetheart, but yes, this is new in a way." she replied, parting her legs wider.
There was no panties on and her pubic hair was thick, her lips large and wrinkled - a testimony to the seven children she bore.
She was already glistening with excitement, and her scent was more mature - more intense than Marji's.
So I went down on her in the living room, with the windows open, the front door ajar, a gentle breeze cooling the house.
There was a raw aspect to this act. Something fundamental, primal. Yes, it was love, but it was also desire, a fundamental need much deeper than emotions. I explored her with my tongue, as if she were a wild creature in heat. And she responded in kind, her hips thrusting, wanting more.
I engulfed her labia with my mouth and sucked, my tongue searching out her hard clitoral bud.
She grunted and hissed, a wordless moan of desire, and made a soft sigh, her breath catching in her throat as my tongue located her G-spot.
I felt her climax, and stopped sucking. I gently kissed her lips, and let her relax.
"You, my Darling," she said as I pulled away, a pearlescent trail of her natural fluids connecting our lips, "you're becoming quite skilled at this."
I smiled at her and said, "Now will you feed me?"
She giggled and I could see, for a fleeting moment, the stunning 16-year-old bride she once was.
"Yes, Sweetheart," she said, "I'll feed us both now."
Clothing was junked as Grammy Cleo transformed into an old woman, her young bride and passionately insatiable grandmother melted away, leaving only my loving grandmother.
Dinner was cold leftovers - fried chicken, her incredible potato salad, a dill pickle from her Mason jar, a beer for me, and a strong Screwdriver for her.
It was dark outside and Grammy Cleo lacked cable. I could link to my aunt's Wi-Fi for my Kindle and Google Chromebook, but our entertainment consisted primarily of Grammy Cleo's vast board game collection, network television in Denver, sitting on the porch, and conversing with passersby, and reading.
We did the dishes together, a synchronized dance, me washing, her drying and putting away, brushing against each other as we passed, me chuckling, her giggling. It was a likable element of our day.
When she replaced the last dish, she hung the dish towel and turned to me.
"It's been a while since I had a man in the house," she said, smiling, and touching my hand, "Why don't you join me in bed, and we'll see how late we can make love?"
I grinned, and she added, "No Revolutionary Tales from the South, no 'Br'er Fox' for you, just the 'Briar Patch' for me."
I smiled back and, as she turned to face me, I started on the buttons at her shirt collar.
One by one, I undid the buttons at her neck, then lightly tickled the skin I unveiled. I kissed and licked and embraced her neck.
When I managed to fully undo the buttons on her dress, I rotated around her, unhooking the four hooks at the back of her bra.
I expressed my admiration for her beauty, and she crushed my heart by reaching for my shirt hem.
"No, it's not flattery if it's true," I responded.
"Shh, it's fine," she giggled and carefully got up, creaking and groaning a bit, to her knees. She gazed up at me and flashed a grin.
She reached into her mouth, removed her dentures, and handed them to me.
"Place these in the small cup on the vanity, dear," she instructed with her mouth pulling inward, "and then come back here."
I did as I was told. I had noticed the denture cup before, but I hadn't given it much thought. I searched her drawers and found the Efferdent tablets. I filled the cup with one of the tablets, let water run until it warmed up, and placed her dentures inside.
She hadn't moved when I returned. And there was something about her that stirred me. I stood up straight, and like any other man, awkwardly walked toward her, my erection confined in my pants.
She glowed up at me, knowingly.
Her face was illuminated as she worked on my belt and the button and zipper of my jeans.
Her face radiated satisfaction as she released my cock from its confinement. I observed her face as she engaged in this task.
She kissed my manhood, softly, affectionately.
She bestowed on me the most incredible fellatio of all the fellation I had received, and like her potato salad, most fellations failed to compare. Her lack of teeth allowed her to bite down in a manner I had never experienced before. Moreover, her tongue was a lively entity and she smiled up at me as she gulped me down, taking me into her throat, pushing me beyond any point I had thought possible.
Her eyes radiated warmth as she swallowed, holding me in her throat, encouraging every bit of pleasure from my body.
She extracted herself from her oral interaction, still swallowing, still keeping me in her throat, convincing me to reach a pinnacle of climactic satisfaction.
She marveled at the final droplet of release that she had elicited, still showing satisfaction.
"Will you still kiss your elderly Grandma Cleo?" she inquired.
I grinned and kissed her.
I continued to caress and tickle her back as I kissed her.
"You know what I like, don't you?" she purred.
I helped her onto the bed, effortlessly positioning her so she lay flat on her stomach, her head to one side on a pillow.
I fondled her back, making her hum gently, like a contented kitten, when I reached for her behind.
Her beauty, as enticing as I remembered it, decorated the area between her legs.
I bent down and gently blew and kissed that area, but this time she folded away, preparing to curl up on her side.
"Too much?" I inquired.
For the first time since we started, she blushed intensely.
"What?" I inquired, caressing her cheek.
"You should be cautious back there," she said.
"Why?" I inquired, shocked.
She giggled.
"I'm," she stuttered, "I'm bound up," she added as her cheeks turned even redder, a color I had previously thought impossible.
"What?" I inquired again.
Her blush deepened.
"You might need to administer an enema," she said.
My penis became erect again, zuverrasucht.
She noticed my surprised reaction and giggled.
I met her lips in a brief kiss before situating my attention on the bed, filled with her body, placing my legs astride her, prepared to rub her posterior before I discovered her sexiness tucked beneath.
I gasped upon seeing it, as striking and sexy as I remembered.
I moved above her torso and tenderly kissed and blew as she stiffened, pushing away from me.
"Too much?" I asked.
For the first time since claiming her virginity, she appeared uncertain.
"What?" I asked again.
She hesitantly looked at me, trying to hide her embarrassment.
"You may have to educate me," she stammered.
I felt mesmerized.
There was a small cabinet in the bathroom. She opened it and pulled out a large, flat, red rubber bag with a lengthy red hose that ended in a white nozzle. A sparkly silver clip was situated halfway down the red tube.
"Look at this," she said, now sounding casual, "it either lets things flow in or out," and she demonstrated how that chrome clip worked.
"Only a couple of drops of Dawn," she said, adding four carefully measured drops of the thick blue detergent into a bag.
"Not too hot," she said, turning on the hot water faucet while smiling up at me as she waited for the water to heat.
"Well, kiddo," she said, giggling a bit, "this is turning out to be a summer of new experiences for me as well. I've never had someone," and she chuckled, "help me with an enema."
I bent down and kissed her.
"I'm honored," I said, and she laughed at that, a full-bellied laugh.
"Pervert," she said, but she kissed me back, so I guess she didn't mind my perversion too much.
"All right," she said, "feel," as she mixed cold water with the hot water stream.
I felt the temperature with my fingers and confirmed it was what she wanted.
"Okay, fill it up," she said.
I placed the bag under the running water, feeling the weight as it filled, an oddly pleasurable sensation.
"Tighten the plug," she said, "we don't want any leaks."
I screwed the plug into the bag's hole carefully.
"Check the valve," she commanded, and I verified it was closed.
"Ready?" she said, guiding me to the bathroom.
"Hang it here," she directed, pointing to a small hook on the wall that I'd noticed before. I hung the red bag and felt a surge of excitement in my groin. The red rubber bag with the shiny clip and the white end touching the ground just exuded sex to me.
"A little cushion," she said, opening a cupboard and pulling out a roll of something.
She unfolded it and I realized it was an old quilt she made with such intricate detail. She folded it lengthwise, shook it out, and laid it on the floor in front of the toilet. She got on her knees and then leaned forward so she was on all fours.
"There's some Vaseline in the cabinet," she pointed out.
I found it easily.
"Now, you know what to do," she instructed.
I took the jar and set it on top of the toilet's closed lid. Then I used the fingers of my left hand to spread her cheeks.
The sight was just as interesting and arousing as I recalled.
I dipped my finger into the Vaseline and began lubricating her carefully. This became a sensual experience for both of us, my fingertips sliding over the four distinct hemorrhoids before gently penetrating and coating her.
"Be careful, hon," she said, her voice a bit breathless, "or you'll get into something you don't want to."
I chuckled and said, "Shhh."
She giggled again.
I penetrated then, watching, entranced, almost entranced, as my fingernail and then fingertip disappeared up to the first knuckle.
I pulled my finger out, dipped it in the Vaseline again, and repeated, noticing she wasn't as tight now.
And I met resistance.
It was a hard object.
I recognized what I was touching, so I pulled my finger free, grabbed the hose, and slipped it into her.
I had to force it through the tough, hard turd.
She let out a small grunt and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yes, darling," she said, "it's not painful."
I push and when the syringe broke through the thick turd, it slid the rest of the way in without issue.
"Okay," she said, and I thought I detected a hint of aroused feminine scent. "Now, move around so you're on your knees at the small of my back, so I can lean against you."
I barely moved for several seconds. The red hose disappearing into her rear intrigued me. I couldn't look away.
Then I scooted around, moving on my knees until my knees touched where her ass began.
She shifted positions, leaning back against my thighs. She took my hand and placed it on the roundness, the bloat, between her belly button and her mound. She seemed to appreciate my pressure.
I kept massaging her belly, helping the water to penetrate.
It hit me then, a sudden realization - intimacy that went beyond sex.
"I love you," I said, gently massaging her belly.
"And I love you," she said, "and let me tell you something, this is my first experience with an enema."
I kept caressing and she kept humming, reminding me of a purring cat.
An unusual idea crossed my mind.
"Grammy Cleo," I whispered, trying to find the right words.
"Mmmmmmmm, Baby," she replied, resembling a purring feline more and more.
I became too nervous to continue my sentence.
She reached over and took my hand.
"What's up, Sweetheart?" she inquired.
When I remained silent, she turned and gazed at me.
"Speak up," she urged.
I gulped and voiced my intentions.
"I want to observe," I said.
Her eyes grew wide at the revelation.
"Observe?" she questioned, her tone questioning as well.
"Yes," I confirmed, my hands busy on her smooth belly, applying pressure to find the firmness hidden beneath.
"You want to watch me use the bathroom?" she asked.
My face reddened, feeling the heat on it.
"Yes," I muttered softly.
She chuckled then, emitting an oddly childlike giggle she sometimes produced.
"Davey," she began, and then stopped.
"Don't be an ass," I injected, not yet feeling comfortable enough to simply accept my desires and ask for them without reservation, "you don't have to."
She caught my hand, kissed my palm, and placed it back on her belly, urging me to continue what I was doing.
"Davey," she said, "don't be silly. I didn't say no, I'd simply never considered doing such an act before."
I hesitated, but she carried on, speaking over me.
"But as I've told you," she said, and then suddenly exhaled sharply before continuing, "Sex is often messy but never dirty."
She groaned and I detected a tension in her body. After a few seconds, she relaxed and spoke again.
"So yes, Honey," she said, "I'll find a way to make it happen and you can observe your dear Grammy Cleo relieving herself. And then you can clean me up and then we can continue our play where I'm nice and clean."
There was nothing to say, so I chose not to speak. I resumed gently rubbing her belly.
Yet, I had piqued her interest. The scent of her arousal filled the room, and when my fingers traveled lower to press at the peak of her pubic hair, she wiggled a little and subtly rocked her hips. She was likely unaware of these subtle signals.
I watched as the red bag flattened and reattached the small clip onto the hose.
Her belly felt firmer and more full than when we first started.
"The bag's empty," I mentioned, "Do I need to refill it?"
"Perhaps when I'm less congested," she responded, "but I don't think there's space now."
"Okay," I agreed, "On your stomach, then."
She grunted again, seemingly in pain as she crawled on her stomach.
I just looked at her for a few seconds. Oh my goodness, that red hose disappearing between her cheeks was so incredibly arousing.
"Okay," I uttered, spread her cheeks apart with my left hand, and revealed the hose with the tip of the syringe where it entered her. "Here it is."
I carefully removed the syringe, doing so slowly, observing, intrigued by what I saw. It emerged, stained brown.
She groaned and hissed, possibly in pain as she shifted her knees beneath her, positioning herself on all fours.
"Are you alright?" I inquired, kneeling next to her and rubbing her back.
"Yes, Davey," she replied, "I'm just fine. Give me your hand."
She graciously accepted my hand and utilized it as support while she stood slowly.
She placed her hands on the small of her back and stretched, a movement we've all done when dealing with lower back discomfort.
She took note of where I was looking and ran her hand over her midsection.
"I look like I'm pregnant," she commented, followed by a laugh.
She stood for an extended period of time, perhaps a minute, with her hands placed on her back like that, just holding still.
I could likely see my question in her expression, so she chuckled and said, "Gravity is assisting you, honey."
Then she presented her famous smile, the one I'd seen since I was a five-year-old boy, whenever she'd provided me with a delightful surprise.
"Don't worry, Sweetheart," she reassured me, "you'll get to witness it."
Thus, I stood, appreciating, admiring, feeling overpowered by the allure of her physique, thinking she was far more intriguing than Marji's. [Note: "Marji" is not specified in the given text.]
She drew in a deep breath, flashing a wicked smile my way. It wasn't a casual smile - it was more like a mischievous grin, hinting at something naughty. I could easily imagine her flashing that grin as she and a friend made a plan to ditch school and go swimming instead.
"Alright, my lecherous grandson, come have a look at dear ol' granny taking a poo," she said.
She moved the toilet lid, positioned her feet slightly farther than shoulder width apart in front of the bowl, and shuffled back. Bending at the waist, she widened her stance.
There was no escape for my gaze. I watched, transfixed, as she reached back, spread her cheeks wide.
A low, guttural grunt escaped her when she exhaled. I observed the tense, bulging mass in the area between her thighs as she strained, pushing against the wall. I even sensed the tension beneath my hand, resting gently on her back.
"Doing alright?" I inquired, showing concern. "Do you need a break?"
Her voice was tightened with strain. "Yes, no, just need to begin.
She paused momentarily, panting, then pushed once more. The rounded formation pushed out, and I caught a glimpse of the dark plug causing her discomfort.
I asked hesitantly, "Are you alright?"
Straining, she replied, "Yes, no, and... just need to push."
Prompted by her confirmation, she took a few deep breaths before making another attempt.
This time, the large dome expanded, allowing me to see the brown plug as her anus slightly widened.
A soft sigh escaped her lips. The large dome, however, remained.
Inhaling sharply, she pushed with all her might, grunting before doing so.
Rather than recede completely, the large mound that had formed oozed baby-Ruth-sized again. Leaning over, it appeared as if a tennis ball was attempting to breach the surface.
Transfixed, I watched in disbelief as she continued to defecate. It was like an avalanche of excrement spilling forth: Chunks of poop came out of her anus in waves. No longer moving like regular defecation, the poop had become like thick, gooey toothpaste being squeezed out of a tube.
I found myself paralyzed, unable to divert my attention. The question crossed my mind, "How much can be stored within a single human being?"
The persistent flow reached a point where it became particularly messy. As she let out a truly massive fart, the toilet, cabinet, and surrounding wall were enveloped in a poop explosion. The walls resembled a Jackson Pollock painting, adorned in varying shades of brown.
Gulping deeply, I finally permitted myself a breath.
"Grandma, you can sit down now," I said. "You're too old to sustain this position for prolonged periods."
I gently lowered the lid, bringing her forward to assist me. She sat gingerly, relaxing in the process.
I overheard the sound of someone peeing and watched the transformation in her demeanor. Gathering her reflection in the mirror, she looked decades younger, visibly relieved.
I didn't know how long she sat in that position. I continued to gaze at her, touching her hair tenderly.
Finally opening her eyes, she responded, "You lusting after me?"
Slipping my arm around her neck, I whispered in her ear, "No, granny. Not the briar patch."
Her body shook with a deep, belly laugh.
She extended her hand. I helped her step into the kitchen, where I started running hot water. In her small bathroom, all it held was a bathtub and toilet; handwashing was done at the sink.
Reaching far back in her stack of towels, I pulled out two, one for her, one for me. Wetting the first, I cleaned her amidst her hands on the sink, leaning forward and bent at the waist. Drying her, I employed the same second towel and guided her into her bedroom.
Pausing, I instructed her, "Hold that thought," and stepped out of the room.
Cleaning the toilet and surrounding surfaces, I did so with the wet towel then rinsed it clean. I tossed both dirty towels into the tub, intending to deal with them later.
As I returned to the bedroom, I remarked, "My grandmother will never know."
"I might hide you when your mom comes to pick you up, you know, and keep you," she whispered.
Laughing at her saucy remark, I kissed her, murmuring, "Not the briar patch."
Her laughter echoed through the room as she sighed, "Ah, you do like that idea."
In the bedroom, she waited for me, her presence felt throughout the room. The white sheet was draped seductively across her round hips, arranged to tease and attract me. Her pose was intentional, and she made sure her naked body was on display. Her breasts, large and heavy, hung attractively, with the left one resting on the mattress, while the right one lay on the left. Her right knee was slightly bent, giving a hint of modesty as her pussy was hidden from sight.
As I entered the bedroom, her eyes locked with mine, and she beckoned me over. We kissed for what seemed like an eternity, a deep and meaningful kiss that evoked more than just physical desire. She stretched out her arms, welcoming me to join her.
When we parted, I rubbed her nipple gently with my finger, taking in the soft normality of the moment.
"Just so you know," she whispered, brushing some strands of hair away from my face, "that was a first for me too."
I continued to caress her breast, my touch sending shivers down her spine. Her hands moved to my face, her fingers playing with my hair.
"Enough, Baby," she said softly.
Slowly moving away, I sat up, then lowered myself so my knees were beside hers. Propping her up, she lay back comfortably on the bed. Holding her shoulder with one hand, I encouraged her to roll over onto her back. With my left hand, I began to stroke her, moving slowly and gently as my right hand kept exploring her naked body; brushing away her hair and kissing her.
Now fully exposed, and with her head resting on the pillow, she came unexpectedly, giving off a melodious panting sound as her climax hit.
"No more, Davey," she breathed heavily.
She leaned up, eyeing me, her gaze studying my face. There was a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, but also a touch of amusement.
"I won't say 'no'," she said, her voice cheerful and confident.
She laid on her belly, her full bottom presented to me.
"I just want to look," I replied, attempting to explain my strange fascination.
I moved behind her, my hands pressing down on her cheeks to spread them apart. Still admiring her, I continued to gaze at her.
"That's weird," she said, humoring me.
"Good weird?" I questioned, hoping to make her understand my unusual desires.
"Yes, Davey, that's good weird," she agreed, still smiling.
She snuggled up next to me, and we kissed one last time.
I'm not sure which one of us fell asleep first, but I didn't mind. That night, we found moments of joy in each other's bodies, and I was content just to observe her natural beauty and grace.
Read also:
- Natural Attraction: Part 1
- Spellbound Panties
- Bestow favour upon you
- Relaxing on the Shore: A Life of Leisure
Source: www.nice-escort.de
