[This story has many aspects and could have also been listed under the Mature and Fetish categories, among others. It has some references to bodily functions, so if that bothers you, I suggest you read no further. All characters in this story are well over 18 years old.]
Millie reveals her perverse longings to Dotty who finds the ideal solution
When Mrs. Mildred Bullock lost her dear husband of some forty-odd years in a tragic fishing accident, she took it as a sign from heaven. After a suitable period of mourning, she sold their elegant country house for a tidy sum and moved to the big city, determined to enjoy her remaining years in fulfilling urgent needs that she had been forced to deny for far too long. Unbeknownst to those around her, within the deceptively calm exterior of the respectable self-possessed dowager there lived another Mildred — a woman obsessed with dark fantasies of sexual submission, titillating humiliation, and the relentless punishment of her ample rump.
Mrs. Bullock was fortunate enough to find a cozy cottage to rent in the backyard of the home of Mrs. Dorothy Teather, another widow of some means. Mrs. Teather — or "Dotty," as she was known to her friends — at 62 years of age, had four years on Mildred's 58, and soon became a kind of older sister to her new tenant. The two widows spent many a pleasant hour sitting in each other's kitchens, sharing a pot of tea, and engaging in "girl talk." Gradually, over a period of several weeks, as Dotty earned Mildred's trust, she began to ask a delicate question here and there about Mildred's late husband and their conjugal happiness.
"Oh, really, Dotty! What is there to say?" Mildred tittered nervously, one sunny afternoon. "Edgar was a lovely husband, although I must admit that imagination was not his strong suit. He just liked his meat and potatoes for dinner, and our love life was, well, rather the same!"
"But, Mildred, surely that can't have been fully satisfying," Dotty teased. "Variety is the spice of life, after all. I imagine that you must have had to develop a rich fantasy life to compensate for Edgar's, er, dullness."
Mildred looked lost in thought as Dotty prodded further. "Well?"
"Fantasies? Oh, I had fantasies alright. But really, I don't think they are quite appropriate for two women of our age and station to discuss. It's far too embarrassing!"
"Oh, come now. Who better to discuss them with? Some high-priced psychoanalyst?" Dotty reached over and patted Mildred's hand. "Believe me, my dear, I've been around the block more than once, and there's little that can shock me. There's absolutely no need to be embarrassed. And besides, I have some quirks of my own that I'll bet are no stranger than any you might have."
"Well, I..."
"Mildred!" Dotty scolded. "Didn't you tell me just the other day that you came to the city to start a new life and to do those things you'd always dreamed of? Just how do you think you can begin to do that if you're unwilling to let anyone know what those dreams are?"
The two women were seated in the breakfast nook in Dotty's kitchen, both wearing buoyant summer dresses that nicely showed off their mature figures. Mildred's prodigious rear was nearly as eye-catching as Dotty's out-sized bosom, which was firmly cantilevered into place by an industrial-strength bra beneath her flowered halter.
"Well, I suppose you have a point, my dear," Mildred murmured. "But it is just so awkward. Even saying it aloud makes me feel like some kind of a . . . pervert!"
"Oh, come now!" Dotty exclaimed. "The whole idea of sexual perversions is so outdated. Among sophisticates like you and me, there's really no place for such negative concepts. If the idea of certain acts or situations makes us "hot", then we should just accept that that's part of our unique make-up. Really, my dear, if I happen to enjoy having my boobies bound and teased while I'm receiving a good stiff cock up my rectum, then that's just a fact of life!"
"B-b-but, do you really?" Mildred blushed six shades of crimson as she stared at her friend's enormous bust, imagining it unveiled and tightly wrapped with rope.
"I do indeed! And much more that I just might tell you about if you can quit gaping like a country bumpkin! But, we're not talking about me for the moment — we're talking about you!"
"Oh, Dotty. I hardly know where to begin. For years now I've been plagued with a compulsion to submit myself to an overpowering man, to bury my face between the hairy cheeks of his butt and lose myself in his manly odors and taste. And because I'm such a nasty slut for wanting to do such things, I dream of being scolded and having my bottom spanked and paddled until I can't stand it anymore. Oh! I can't believe I just said that!" Mildred emitted a little squeal of pent-up excitement and blushed again.
"There, you see? That wasn't so bad," Dotty beamed. "I think you'd be surprised just how many women there are who have these kinds of desires. It is just that so few will admit it and then make the effort to fulfill them."
"Yes, well, one can't very well take out an ad in the daily paper and request such things, can one?"
"Oh, you'd be surprised, my dear. Perhaps not in the daily paper, but there are other ways to make contact with people who might fit the bill."
"My word! How?"