Tatiana Seduces Her Perfect Lover

There was something wrong with Miles and he knew it. He learned to keep his aesthetic and sexual preferences to himself early on. When everyone else admired young and famous supermodels, he was attracted to something completely different. His ideas of eroticism, while still remaining straight, were as far as possible from the accepted standard. He was roused by chunky older women. The older the better and the bigger they were the better.

Soon he was turning his head for ordinary looking grannies. They all seemed so different to him and unique. They all enchanted him with some kind of beauty that overpowered him. Despite being curvy and elderly, these oddly shaped elves had several distinct bodies types. He loved any and all kinds of these handsome creatures. He admired all of them in their own way. Some were big and tall and powerful. Others were round, fat, and petite in an adorable way.

At first, he was a little shy to approach his divas in public. Miles had to change his thinking; he had to think of the ladies he found attractive as the more socially acceptable ones. He trained himself to believe that it was more normal for him to talk to strangers that were at least a generation older then he was.

He was soon proud to make eyes with the chunky old senior women that proliferated the store. The bodies, faces, hands, and hips of these seniors appeared as perfect to him as if he was looking at the great beauties who had perfect bodies from the point of view of society.

Young girls seemed to be much too immature and had uninteresting bodies. He loved big legs and hips. When talking to a breathtaking sensual old lady, he began to step up to his wrinkly diva like he wanted to. He did it because, in public, and in private, now, he saw her as an approved mate for his younger self.

Now, he behaved appropriately for his feelings and felt no social awkwardness flirting with the lonely seniors. He found they often did not even look up when walking by him, not expecting anyone to notice their jumbo backsides or whatever else was bothering them.

When he did get their attention, however, the change was remarkable. How friendly they became! They were so thrilled about a good-looking guy engaging them. He looked right at them when he could and enjoyed the surprised and various reactions he got.

For the most part, the gray dryad flirted back shamelessly with Miles. He never failed to get sexually aroused by the situation. These lush and lovely elder-mothers were throwing themselves at him without knowing him as if he was the pretty young lady and they were rich and powerful men controlling his fate.

He wished he could tell them all how he felt about them. He wanted to tell them how these alluring and mysterious mistresses made him totally sexually aware of himself. He wanted to tell the pensioners that, without exception, he felt women become more beautiful with time.

Dusk fell onto the cooling city. The white noise of rainy echoes, honks and voices rose from the streets below. A lone trumpet echoed its jazz lyrics to whomever would listen. She was alone.

"I wish I had someone to love," she thinks.

Azana knew she needed a change. She was an old retired portly woman. She was short and quite round and did not think of herself as attractive in anyway. She disguised her swaying hips and stomach with bulky layers and long flowing robes. High heels added another inch or two.

This night, she went out, her large body hidden under her long flowing hooded coat. Her chubby, nondescript small shape made its way between people and shadows.

Unnoticed, she wandered through small streets and neighborhoods. She stopped before a peeling door underneath an inscrutable sign. Compelled to walk through, she entered a different world on the other side; a twisted world but still identifiable as a theater.

Gray people were sitting around a small stage in the back. It was so quiet every breath was heard and echoed. It was so dusty; an off-off Broadway kind of thing.

In the play, which had already begun, someone attractive was posing in the nude for an average looking lady. The clothed artist studied her exposed lover who did not move.

The nude model was very young and strong looking as one would expect a model to be. Not exactly what she had in mind, she thought wryly to herself. She did not stand a chance with any younger guy but the sight of him standing there like a statue of David certainly triggered her lust even more then before.

But what surprised Azana, too, was that the artist painting on stage was a spunky old lady. She looked very uptown and in style with big bright earrings and an expensive purse which put her in contrast to the other actor on stage. She fretted and fidgeted while he had to remain completely still in a strange and rigid position. He stared at nothing in particular with a blank and resigned look in his eyes.

There was a reason the old lady was able to go to these kinds of shows. It was because her mother had been a member of a strange cult. It was a secret matriarchal society which was described in one of her occult books from her moldy library.

This is what she was taught. She was taught that the ancient Grand Dame of the Old Place was known as The Righteous Poet of Sinful Kaddish or sometimes simply as Tatiana Skobtsova. The Honorable Pantokrator did not appear much in the lives of the others. Despite being slow and ungainly, she dwelt in the ruins of the old temple area with only one special companion who was with her all the time. This ancient sorceress was clothed and indulged every day by this much younger and eager junior member. The beguiled and emotionally entangled young mate was never far from her if not under her feet or directly attending to them.

Her devotee, in fact, appeared to the group even less then the plump old princess and only the other old gray witches knew of this at all. These were the elderly women of the whole campus complex. They were all reputed to be very rich and powerful.

But here, in the olden places, they all appeared to be equal. They lounged around the broken pools and cracked cisterns completely nude. Everyone of these mysterious matriarchs were almost as wide as they were tall. They had enormous bellies and endless hips which they displayed to the misty valley. Their breasts flowed like winding streams. Broken Ionic columns dotted the landscape. Like pastoral goddesses of shrubs and meadows, they bathed in the cool morning fog. They never wore any clothing at all when they were in the garden temples or anywhere on the campus of the Great Ruins. She had visited the Great Ruins and knew all this was true albeit far away.

I was an old and fat granny and an incestuous ugly witch, too boot, but I saw when heads turned. I was over sixty but strong and still hard working. Lots of people saw me. I made sure to look good with make up and eye liner no matter my age. God, how I hated my plump face and fat butt.

The eyes of companions tell me everything. I can read eyes, I guess. Why would anyone like that give me those eyes? Flashing eyes like that takes courage but they unequivocally show desire and submission from her new lover.

Her boyfriend was an amazing catch for someone like her. Her friends could not believe their eyes and teased her about it endlessly. Strangers starred at them. Everyone looked at them if they made-out in public.

He always looked downcast in public. That was good, she thought. My companion knows to be submissive. He knows everyone pities him when they are seen together.

Her attentive husband should at least be stealing glances at someone his own age not a downcast ancient fatty like herself. They talked about ways that it will be more clear in public how much he loves her. He scooped up her arm to hold her close and walk together. He approached her, his long time girlfriend, longing for deep kisses.

He just wanted a fantasy fulfilled which would take all of a minute. The dream these youngsters have is to be intimate with a really old cougar. Here he comes now, Azana thought to herself, with some trepidation.

This class of dominant women wanted something from young men, too. They were trained to take what they could from the bashful sweethearts they seduced. She enthralls and confounds to snare as many virgins as possible even if her toys were not, at first, interested in losing their virginity to a lustful old lady or messing around with such an over-weight granny. But these women, like her, had been around for a long time and knew some tricks.

Besides, the Honey Trap was so easy. When her latest conquest still did not know how he even felt about her, she would talk to him in a dignified and meaningful way. Here was this over-dressed old lady. She was obviously gray and wrinkled and had thick make-up on her face. She was doing her best to seduce this gorgeous man. He had no concept of her as a potential lover. She would talk to the mark and watch him carefully. She followed up with whatever story seemed to touch him. She got into his personal space in such a sweet and special way that he wanted to pull her in even closer. She did it by telling him about a very personal romance. She had to lean her head really close to him so no one else would hear her erotic and seductive little story.

She was too close but this sometimes happens, the startled guy said to himself. He was scared of her and as her smell wafted by, the madam gently took his hand and rubbed it which took away all the weird sensations from him and cast her spell on him. It was Magic at work and now he followed her everywhere with his obeying eyes.

Of course, once they met and became friends, at least in her mind, she could do with him as she pleased even though he still did not even think of her as someone he could love erotically or passionately because the face of the ancient mistress was so wrinkled. Hypnotized people do not know they are hypnotized as a rule.

Give me a kiss, she said to him in public. For some reason he found this intimidating. He kissed her cheek quickly.

She told him how to handle this. She taught him that he was being ageist. He discriminated being affectionate with his stocky empress in public. He tried to just imagine that he was really meeting a nice girl his age; someone normal for him. She insisted he try this now. So again they kissed but this time she turned her face towards his and their lips met. She wound her hands around his body.

A finger pushed its way into his mouth followed by an eager tongue. They both moaned and he begged her for more caresses and hugs anywhere, anytime. This made her very happy. He was starstruck by her beauty. It was obvious because he was much taken by her. She was a big rotund woman much older then even his mother. She could tell right away. It was the fact that he gravitated toward her big personality and enormous hips.

She had to play it very cool for a while with him. She brushed him off whenever she could but would clamber back later into his good graces with an excuse that made no sense to him later if he even remembered it.

She was always relentless in her pursuit. The fat lusty old doll lady looked out the window and listened to the sound of the jazz echoing down these rainy nights. The evening dreamt of some young lover. Her gyrating nude hips sway in the thin robe; she has nothing else on at all. Nothing but the cold night air that whirls and caresses the rolls on her plump belly.

The old girls know where to go to stare at or caress young people they might want to get with. They have power and riches that anyone finds attractive. When a melancholy boredom overtakes her, she can be found at a secret and gloomy place. There are many of them in the antiquated city. Some people can sense the location of these places.

This is the place for finding love. The lonely garden and the old shows are at the ritualized part of the games. This is the place for finding those mystic meetings when the evening city is at its most lonely.

It was a tradition that the ceremony would involve the patron matriarch of the valley. It just so happened that his admirer was this special lady. So she chose him as her partner. This was an honor that he could not refuse as long as he was single.

He was still conflicted about his feelings toward the lady. Sometimes he loved her but sometimes she repulsed him a little because of her enormous rear end and pendulous breasts. He was in need of her help and she could give it to him. But this made him feel uncomfortable about it. This latest move of hers that forced him to be her partner for the holidays really made him mad. He just could see himself being with her now.

Her feelings were unambiguous towards him. She always wanted him fully and completely and she told him so every now and then. But he just felt differently about it. He felt like he had to be the voice of reason. Sure it was okay for her to act this way. He was attractive by any woman's standard. He was educated and strong. She was so old and had seen it all. She did not care anymore about decorum and did not hide how he made her feel.

Her breath became ragged as soon as he was nearby and she followed the confusing feelings without hesitation.

He felt that he should be the one to stop their gentle touches or caresses that felt like they could lead to kisses. That made him really panicky was when she started kissing only the parts of his body that were covered up by clothing so that he could feel her lips through the material.

At first this blew his mind with lust but then it became somewhat annoying and he gently asked her to stop. She kept going and soon had her tongue in the anxious and reluctant mouth of her date who could not believe this was happening and could not wait to break free. She seduced him and did whatever she wanted to do with him that night. This was kept between them but it solidified her bid to own him for the holidays.

He had no idea what he got himself into. There were three major parties held at her house. One of the parties, had him holding center stage, stuck in the middle of it. He had to stand in an attentive position in the living room all night.

To make it worse, he was more then nude, if that was even possible. The thing was, he had a rope tied around his body that exaggerated his butt and pulled his genitals upward so they were thrust forward for all to see. In his mouth he held a ball gag. It wasn't very tight but he held the plastic in his mouth even as he was trying to stop from drooling.

If he let it slip, he would not be able to get it back into his mouth and she would simply replace the soaking wet ball and then tighten the head-strap to stop it from falling out of his mouth again. He already knew from experience that although she tightened it as gently as possible, it would be a lot more painful.

He was such a simple predictable man, she thought. She loved him for it. He had listened to and believed everything she said from the beginning. You are the pretty one in our relationship, she would say to him. She loved manipulating her toyboy.

In the afternoon, she told him to get ready for a party. She explained to him what she wanted done and he prepped all the food for her and cleaned the kitchen. When he was done, he came to her bedroom and kneaded her ankles and She carried a bright box into the room for him.

She bade him to sit in front of it. "You are going to wear this at the party tonight, okay son?" she said sternly. She always called him that when she was not playing around. "Something really cute I picked up for you," she explained. She looked at him as he opened the box.

"Oh my god, is that what you are going to have me wear tonight?" he had exclaimed earlier that evening, "that will be so embarrassing for me! I couldn't possibly serve and stand at attention for all your dearest and oldest friends. First you were all matronly with me in front of them. Then we told them that we were actually in love with each other despite the ages differences. But now this? Please, no!" He could not believe how pathetic he sounded but he did not care.

There was something dark in the past of one man in the group, Azana could tell. It was the way in which he was attracted to her melancholy demeanor and darkly painted eyes and most of all, her cynical humor. It was the way he gravitated toward her large round body and her big attitude. Someone like him should not have been curious about her. His body was thin and he was usually quiet. He was nothing like her. Opposites attract but this was ridiculous. No one understood why he did this. Their age difference was completely inappropriate. Even the exemplary people had to mumble to the others their baffled wonderment. Despite being almost old enough to be his grandmother, this wicked old vixen with a pile of a body and heaping boobs allowed him to court and woe her. She moved cautiously, observing for herself how society reacted to her young lover's ministrations to her pleasure. She liked to be in the middle of the little storm she was brewing.

She was not classic but rebellious concerning most things. So it turned out later that she was the opposite in the traditional ways which involved a series of gifts or grants that the young hopeful prince bestows upon his future mystery interaction. The results can be so unexpected, leading strange people into the dark misty gardens behind the popular places of worship. The taboo fantasy of the young inexperienced lover was both kindled and extinguished by just a spark. He went from feeling like his body was trembling and erect just from being around her to feeling curiosity as to why he felt anything sensual at all toward her.

She was a wild and different character. She was big and round and got lots of attention due to her huge hips. She hated the extra weight yet flaunted it on occasion when she needed to shock a wavering love-interest or display her social power by disregarding common etiquette which was the custom in this taboo place and, of course, when the ugly old witch desired to reveal the depth of her pomp and luxury.

She hated her madness that made her shameless in her games of making the local culture bend to her visions. She liked to see her people do odd and pathetic things to display and illuminate the particular chosen technique she had chosen to control and lord over the particular victim. Using a big personality, she encouraged their self-hatred and governed with endless sacrifice. She figured that way she would know rather quickly who really liked her.

The goddess was short and heavy-set. Now that she was so old, she was resigned to being alone. But the culture was so weird and changed so rapidly. Everything was upside down. She did find someone and he was much younger then her as was the custom.

The culture told him and people like him to see her as the opposite of how they had seen her before. Whereas before a young man would be shy or a little timid about dating a woman as old or older then his mother, now society continually barraged their senses with erotic images of women older then their partners by a generation or more and the romantic stories of these mixed couples.

Thus the man now tended to be for show and it was seen as a great love and sensitivity on the part of a powerful old matron if she proposed marriage to her lover. Indeed, it became the role of the woman to approach men. This lessened the chance of confusion since women tend to be interested in only one lover at a time.

For example, she has this situation: She has to do this but hates to do this: It's time to clean the kitchen. A loving kiss then a clamp for encouragement. It only comes off then the kitchen is done. A random clamp and some are very tight.

She gets him super horny with make-shift chastity devices. Then says he has to come up with a really erotic story before she lets him maybe finish.