When I was twenty-one years old, I considered myself an average guy. I went to college, liked girls, sports, action movies and beer. I did a little hunting and fishing. I had plenty of dates with girls who were typical of their time and place. They were slender, squeaky clean, well scrubbed and enthusiastic. My sex life was fairly conventional, but I often had the vague sense that I was missing something, that my sex life was not as rewarding as it could be.
I began to develop an eye for older women, in their thirties and early forties, women whose figures tended to be, shall we say, more fleshy and voluptuous. I remember one time when an older woman was walking ahead of me on the street. It was late spring, and she was wearing a long tight skirt, the fabric of which clung caressingly to every curve. I couldn't take my eyes off the undulating, rhythmic bounce of her ass as she walked. I was mesmerised, and before long I had a raging hard on.
Sometimes I would be walking with a current girlfriend on the street when an older woman, dressed to accentuate her ample figure would pass by, and my head would swing around involuntarily to get a gander at her full derriere. This would invariably confuse and annoy my girlfriend, who would say something like, "What are you staring at? Does that woman remind you of your mother?"
There was just something about mature women the fascinated me, particularly the self-assured, assertive ones. The type of woman I'm talking about is perfectly happy with her body, even if it may not conform to today's somewhat emaciated standard. She is not forever criticising her reflection in the mirror like many younger women, who often see fat on a frame consisting of little but skin and bones. Then came the day I met Ms. Teasdale, and my life was never the same.
When I was a senior in college, engaged in my mandatory internship as a teaching assistant, I was assigned to work in the office of Miss Teasdale during my study periods. She was the Girl's Disciplinarian at the local high school and would normally be assigned a female assistant but as chance would have it I was the only volunteer available at the time. She was a tall, imposing woman in her late forties, with hair dyed blond, a little too much makeup and a tendency to wear skirts that were too small for her in order to get a very tight fit. She had a figure that, in an earlier time, men would go wild over, but was probably considered plump by today's benighted standards
All right, I'll be honest. The real reason she wore her skirts so tight was because she noticed me constantly staring at her ass, and she was hell bent, from that moment on, to tease the living hell out of me. She just never let up, even going so far as to create opportunities, by dropping things and so forth, for her to bend over and drive me wild. She had me nailed. I was a dyed in the wool, 100 proof ass men.
One of her favourite tricks was to hold off returning items to the filing cabinet until I was seated in an armrest desk chair directly next to it, alphabetising reports. She would invariably open the very bottom file drawer, bending exaggeratedly until her big, smelly ass was practically in my face.
All right, I was in a serious state of denial. How else do I explain the fact that my cock sprang instantly to attention at the slightest whiff of her ass? It embarrassed the hell out of me. As you'll soon find out, Miss Teasdale knew me a lot better than I knew myself.
One day, as the weather was turning warmer and the school year was almost over, Miss Teasdale and I were alone in the office. She asked me what plans I had for the summer. None, I told her. "How would you like to work for me?” she asked. "Doing what?” I replied. "You could do yardwork, help around the house with repairs, painting and such or...” and here she looked me directly in the eye, "you could be my asshole slave!" I turned beet red. "I...I... don't know what you're talking about!” I stammered, totally flustered. "Think it over", she whispered suggestively, "no experience necessary." Just then a pair of students entered and interrupted this bizarre exchange. But her words stayed with me. I was already haunted, to the point of obsession, by her ass. I saw it in my dreams, in my waking thoughts, undulating, jiggling, sometimes outburst, mesmerising me. Just what did she mean by "asshole slave”. I am sure, in the back of my mind, I knew exactly what she meant, but I pretended that I didn't. The next day Miss Teasdale acted as if nothing had happened, like everything was the same as always between us. Weeks went by, and finally the final stretch of the school year was at hand. At about two o'clock one afternoon, the office was empty save for Miss Teasdale and myself. She was seated on a chair at a table, sorting records. I was daydreaming about the long summer ahead, the prospect of a few months of freedom from regimentation. My thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Miss Teasdale, asking me to please retrieve a pen she had just dropped beneath the table. I got down on all fours and crawled under. She then did something totally unexpected, kicking off one shoe and then the other, exposing her stocking-clad feet. She pushed the chair back just enough to allow her to see underneath the table. She then placed on foot directly beneath my nose. The smell was intense and funky and, to my amazement, profoundly arousing, producing an instantaneous erection. I was embarrassed and disoriented. I sniffed and sniffed; a deep satisfied groan of erotic pleasure escaped from my throat. Then, to my utter amazement, Miss Teasdale began to stroke, through my pants, my engorged member with her other stocking foot. Overwhelmed by sensation, I lost all restraint and ejaculated. I crawled out from under the table, mortified, the moisture on my pants the stigma of my depravity. Miss Teasdale repeated her offer of a summer position. "I accept", I sheepishly replied, resigned to my fate.
So it was that I found myself, on a hot summer day, at the doorstep of a woman I hardly knew, about to fill a position, the duties of which I but dimly understood. I had informed my parents that I had a summer job, one that required me to live on the premises. I would receive room and board along with a small salary in exchange for my services. They were all for it, thinking it would be good "experience" to learn what it was like to work for a living before I started my teaching career. Little did they know?
I rang the bell. Miss Teasdale opened the door. As I beheld her impressive form, clad in a halter-top and tight fitting white short shorts, I inhaled sharply. She led me to the living room. After a polite exchange of small talk. I finally got up the nerve to ask Miss Teasdale just exactly what my duties would be. She looked me directly in the eye, held my gaze for several seconds, and then laid it on the line.
"Your duties basically involve your mouth and my asshole. You are going to lick it, tongue it and suck it. You are going to do this for hours and hours and hours. My ass in general and my asshole will circumscribe your whole world in particular. For long stretches, all you will see smell and taste will be my ass and asshole. This will go on day in and day out, throughout the entire length of the summer." She paused. "You've never sucked a woman’s asshole, have you?" "No." I answered. "From that bulge in your pants I can see that it is not an altogether unpleasant prospect. But then I sensed that long ago, ever since I noticed that your eyes were permanently riveted on my ass, relishing its every move, all throughout the school year." Here she reached out and tickled me under the chin. "You really like women's Asses, don't you?" I sheepishly nodded.
She sat directly across from me. With her legs crossed, I could follow her impressive thigh all the way up to a tantalising ass cheek, the shorts were that skimpy. Miss Teasdale was at once a quite beautiful woman and an imposing physical specimen. Long blond hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her red lips were configured into a cruel, supercilious smile. She stood about seven feet tall, in fine shape and yet quite voluptuous. At 4'3" I was practically dwarfed by her impressive figure. And what a figure it was, full busted, with a surprisingly narrow waist. Her hips flared out to accommodate the most fetching ass I have ever seen, full, large, and yet perfectly formed. It was about that time when she decided to put on a little show for me. She rose from her armchair, turned about, and began swivelling her hips from side to side, while slowly bending over, letting her ass, now in fluid motion, rotating, cast a spell over me.
"Like what you see.” she cooed. A deep, guttural. Yearning groan was about all I could muster in the way of a response. My cock throbbed. I was besotted by the erotic promise of that lovely ass, and my tongue practically hung out of my mouth.
She sat back down. "Maybe you'd like a little appetiser before the main course? My feet are so sweaty and stinky, just the way I know you like them.” she said as she slowly removed her canvas tennis shoes. Her feet were moist with sweat, the pink toes and soles warm and pungent. My mouth watered. I got down on the carpet and began to lap up that piquant sweat, first from the soles, then greedily sucking one toe after another. "It's great to have a respectful young acolyte worship at my feet, no matter how smelly they may be.” she said. "The smellier the better.” I murmured. "You're a naughty young man.” she playfully scolded, "But then who but a very naughty scamp would eagerly volunteer to be an asshole slave? You know for many years, I dreamed of meeting someone who would adore me in a very special way, someone for whom not act of devotion was too degrading, but you are too much! Admit it! You can't wait to worship my asshole!"
I was still vigorously attending to her feet. When she decided she had had enough of this preliminary activity, she bade me cease. She rose, turned around, and, bending over, told me to kiss her ass. I started planting gentle smooches on those spectacular globes, kissing the white cotton skin-tight shorts, then thrilling at the contact of my lips with her bare buttocks as I kissed just below the hemline where her ass cheeks began to emerge. I could smell the delightful admixture of scents from both pussy and asshole, and it electrified me. My head swam.
She stood erect and then began to unbutton and unzip the shorts, slowly, with tantalising deliberation. She stepped out of them. She knelt on the chair, held the backrest and arched her back, thrusting her backside out for me to behold. My heart pounded. I flushed with excitement and anticipation. The dark, dank crevice beckoned me with the lure of the forbidden. I was about to perform an act that ordinary people would consider unspeakably depraved, almost unthinkable. I didn't care. In fact, I was shamelessly thrilled with the prospect. I began by lightly running my tongue along the entire length of her ass crack, from bottom to top. I then concentrated on the area surrounding her anus, trying to suck each tiny dark hair, one at a time. I then spread her cheeks wide open, and planted a loving kiss right smack dab on her asshole. I began, with the tip of my tongue, to slowly circle the perimeter of her anus.
I began hearing appreciative moans and groans from Miss Teasdale. She really loved this. I could tell that this was something she had dreamed of, devoutly desired and probably despaired of ever having; a man willing to lick and suck her most forbidden place, her dirty asshole. I guess you could say that in me she had met her soulmate. I could do this for as long as she wished, and I sensed that she never wanted me to stop. She began rubbing her clit as my mouth worked its magic. I started to occasionally push the tip of my tongue into her anus while continuing to lick around the rim. This was greeted with a sharply intake of breath on Miss Teasdale's part. Yes, this was a woman whose erotic satisfaction was strongly linked to anal stimulation. She was as fixated on her asshole as I was. Her skin was becoming moist as the fury of her ardour increased. Finally I slowly inserted my long tongue as far as I could up her puckered brown hole. She shuddered, wracked with orgasmic convulsing. My tongue, ever so slowly at first, the gradually increasing in tempo, slid in and out of her hot tight asshole. As it started to slightly loosen, I started rotating my tongue as I thrust it in and out, in and out.
Or arrangement implied anal worship on demand, anytime of the day or night, anywhere. The stunning picture of a large, gorgeous woman and a little runt with his mouth glued to her asshole could be seen in the kitchen, the bathroom, the staircase, the basement, anywhere in the house. She could be bent over the kitchen sink, on the hall carpet on all fours, wherever, anytime the urge for some anal stimulation came upon her, and I was a most willing accomplice. I sucked her clean asshole, her sweaty asshole, and yes, as shocking as this may be to the more fastidious among you, her filthy asshole. For me, the filthier her sweet asshole was, the more of a treat it was for me to lick, suck and penetrate it with my tongue.
At seven each evening, Miss Teasdale, clad in a see-through negligee and open crotch panties, would demand at least four hours, sometimes more, of uninterrupted devotion. Sometimes she would sit directly atop my face, grinding her fine full ass into it, playfully smothering me. Sometimes she would lie on her stomach as my tongue worked furiously at its appointed task. She would occasionally perch on all fours or, lying on her side, have me insert two or three fingers into her cunt and work them in and out, as my tongue did the same in her asshole.
I would have gladly given the same adoring treatment to her pussy, but she was adamant about her asshole being the centre of attention, although occasionally I would be allowed to minister to her feet, particularly when they would get a little "ripe". For the most part, though, she wanted me to focus attention on the brown hole. The frisson of the forbidden was erotic dynamite to her, and having her asshole serviced by my mouth was the most taboo thing she could imagine.
For my part, I just couldn't get enough of the smell, taste and feel of her asshole and ass. It was like a powerful opiate; the more I got, the more I wanted. And she constantly connived to find ways to keep him at her ass as much as possible. She even cleverly altered a chair so that the central part of the seat cushion was cut out, as was part of the underlying spring support structure, allowing me to insert my head underneath her as she sat, while I, supine on the carpet, pillows supporting my head and upper back, had access to her delectable asshole for as long as she remained seated. Sometimes she would sit for four or five hours at a stretch, watching television, having her "fancy" tickled all the while.
Even during the performance of household chores, the depravity continued. While scrubbing the kitchen floor, on hands and knees, I would be right there behind her, tongue in its accustomed place, deep up her ass, following her around the room.
Sometimes she would be talking to a neighbour, or the postman, her head stuck out the window, while, you guessed it, my tongue was stuck up her ass. Just imagine what some of the more strait laced members of the community would have thought had they known that the woman with whom they were so pleasantly conversing was, at that very moment, receiving deep anal stimulation from the lips and tongue of a devoted "employee".
So now you have a pretty good idea of how I spent my summer vacation. Miss Teasdale and I were fiendishly committed to a season of mutual depravity. We were equally shameless and we were perfectly matched, the seemingly fortuitous circumstances, which brought us together, seemed more and more, as time went by, to be fated. In the many years since that glorious summer, I have never approached the erotic intensity of that experience, and I never met another woman quite like Miss Teasdale.
She was self-assured, unconventional and uncannily sensitive to the psychological quirks of others. In my case, she read me like a book from day one. What others considered offensive odours" were sweeter than the scent of gardenias to me. In fact, any scent that emanated from the female body reduced me to a quivering mass, always ready and eager to serve with tongue and mouth. Miss Teasdale's ass was my ultimate object of devotion. I longed to be engulfed in it, inundated by it, smothered and overwhelmed by its mass, texture, smell and taste. I aspired to a condition of perpetual domination by that lovely ponderous ass, my face incessantly buried within.
The final day of that summer sojourn was surely one to remember. After returning from some morning chores, Miss Teasdale settled into a comfortable easy chair, removed her sneakers and invited me to a feast of sweaty, stinky foot worship. I lovingly, greedily, licked, sucked and slurped, spending at least half an hour on each large, wide foot, doing a most thorough job of devouring every last trace of foot filth.
After I had performed the task to her satisfaction, we went upstairs to her bedroom. Here I was informed that I would spend that entire day, with only occasional breaks, and most of the night in unremitting, intense anal servitude. "Suck and tongue my ass as you never have before, as if your life depended on It.,” she demanded. I, knowing this was to be our last day together, needed no coaxing. My mouth was in overdrive. I strove to thrust my tongue deeper, to slip it in and out faster, than I had ever done before. Time was suspended. I was overcome by anal worshipping ecstasy. I was indeed the more than willing, devoted asshole slave of a large, beautiful woman. I wished it would never end.
The following morning was the appointed time of my sad departure. We exchanged cordial farewells. Nothing more needed be said. What had occurred between us could not be expressed in language, so our feelings of gratitude, and the appreciation we had for each other was only implicit.
I never saw Miss Teasdale again, as I had been assigned a position in another school out of state that fall. Yet the memory of her goddess like power over me, and of our unforgettable, unimaginable summer of depraved bliss would be indelibly etched forever in my mind.