View Full Version : ABC's of Lust A is for Anus.....

10-06-2008, 06:50 PM
This wonderful series is being written by a good friend of mine and she has agreed i can post them here.

So thank you F ing HO....

ABC’s of lust.

Chapter 1: A is for Anus

Anne Grundy was a 48-year-old spinster, in fact, a virgin. This would not have been not unusual for a university librarian in the 1950s, but this was 2008 and she seemed so out of place, such an anachronism in this age of i-pods, U-Tube and Google. The 21st century information age was not beyond Anne intellectual, just culturally and socially. She was computer literate and very competent in her job; but she looked like something out of a black and white movie.
'Unmarried and unmarred' the students whispered behind her back. What they meant was untouched by human hands! All the teen and 20-something kids at Suffolk University ( commonly called So-Fuck U ) held the same opinion about her: she was brilliant in her work with books, internet or researching the stacks for arcane articles. But those clothes! Her whole look was down right creepy, something out of Jane Austin or, worse, George Elliot. She looked like every nasty stereotypical joke about tight-assed librarians. In fact, her face was so stern looking they said she looked like she had a ramrod up her ass.
This was not really fair but the students couldn't be blamed for their assumptions, after all, Anne's outward appearance confirmed their opinion of her. What they couldn't possibly know was that, although nearing the 50 year mark, Anne had kept her body in very good shape. Not that anyone, except her ( female) doctor, could tell, because Anne wore the kind of shapeless clothing that hid her physique. Her sensible Birkenstocks fitted comfortably over her knee length support hose, so essential when you have to stand all day. Not that she allowed anyone to get even a glimpse of her covered ankles very often, but at times she would sit and not adjust her full length dress fast enough and a flash of tan hose, just an inch or so, mind, would flash and be quickly covered up again.
Anne's dresses ( she had only three ) were of an identical style very popular in Victorian Salons of the late nineteenth century; floor length hem, billowy puff-sleeves that ended closer to the thumb than the wrist, high collar that nearly graced the jaw and chin, bodice cut in such a manner that the torso spoke more of 'trunk' than 'breasts'. Her chosen coif added to this image of an uptight sexless school marm; she carefully arranged her hair into the tightest bun you ever saw. In fact, the engineering students used to joke that there was enough pent up kinetic energy in Miss Grundy's hair and scalp to light a thousand homes. They were almost right. But the source of Anne's pent up energy wasn't located in or on her head.
Miss Anne Grundy, 48 and never been kissed, both was and was not exactly what the young folks around her thought and said about her: a tight-assed bitch. They couldn't know that under her all-concealing clothing she wore skimpy undergarments from the on-line Victoria Secrets catalogue. They had no idea that her figure, measuring 36-24-38, was that of a girl twenty-five years her junior, with nipples that hardened at the slightest brush, aureoles the size of silver dollars and the hue of creamed coffee, armpits, legs and mons venus shaven smooth and soft, long, curvaceous legs that never saw the light of day and a most spankable buttocks, so round so firm and, as the old cigarette ad went, so fully packed.
Yes, Anne Grundy, the tight ass bitch of the library, was packing; she packed not iron in that ass of hers, but rubber. Unbeknownst to any around her, Miss Anne Grundy had for the past 30 years worn a butt plug every minute of the work day. It was only after hours, when Anne literally and figuratively let her hair down, that she released the tension that had been building up throughout the day. The physical engineering students would be surprised at how much energy she packed in that body of hers and how it's release resembled the splitting of the atom!
After work, as soon as Anne got into her one-bedroom apartment, she kicked off her comfy shoes and closed the blinds, dimmed the lights, and began to unwind and release her inner self; she started from the top and slowly worked her way to her bottom. First Anne unclipped her hair bun and let her jet black lustrous tresses fall on her shoulders and beyond. For her bun was so tightly wound that it towered over her pate but when released draped to just a few inches above her waist.
Her evening ritual began in her living room where she slowly disrobed before a full-length mirror. With eyes closed, Anne reached beneath her dress and pulled the right, then the left support hosiery down from her mid thigh until the pair of stocking lay in a heap at her ankles. Then she worked her toes into each and pulled them off her feet and kicked them the length of the room and into the kitchenette. Now her hair was free and she was barefoot.
Two of the three dresses Anne owned ( they spanned the rainbow from gray to tan to black ) had 24 ivory buttons each running down the front of the garment; her third dress was likewise secured except with silver snaps, not buttons. It was time to undo the dress which had hidden her from chin to ankle and she did so slowly and deliberately all the while staring with growing lust as her reflection in the mirror. With each button/snap released a little more of the pent up sexual energy roared below and in her innermost soul. As her soft skin came into view in the dim light of her private world, Anne's mouth relaxed and her daytime, near perpetual scowl softened into a smile and slowly reached a lewd grin.
By the tenth undone button Anne's breasts appeared, barely contained in the tight, red satin bra. Her smile widened as she looked further down to where her fingers were loosening her dress; past her navel and thin waist where there was a string of cloth girding her just over her hips and pulled tight below that string was a tiny, triangular patch of red satin which not quite covered her smoothly shaven pussy mound. The cloth was so tight it wedged its way in to where no man had gone before. The thong pussy-patch tapered and became just a string which hugged the ass crack so taut, it helped seal intact the butt plug Anne kept deep inside her during the day.
As the last remaining buttons/snaps were released, Anne let the dark, grim garment spread open to contrast harshly with the skimpy, red underwear and soft, pale flesh between. A pull at the sleeves and a shrug of each shoulder and the dreadful dress fell to the floor leaving Anne a lewd and near nude vision of insensate pulchritude. She was hot!
Next to go was her bra which she pulled from the front with her thumbs under the C-cups and in one motion the bra was lifted up circling her neck and armpits then on over her head where Anne held it on high as she examined herself, naked from the waist up and nearly naked from the waist down. She liked what she saw as the bra fell to the floor and her thumbs fell to that string of a waist band; but she did not pull it down just yet. First Anne turned away from the mirror and looked coyly over her left shoulder so she could see herself watching as she tugged the thong loose from her ass crack and until gravity took over and stripped her stark naked with a tiny ring of red satin at her feet. She stepped out and was completely naked and free of her daytime self.
But the tension that had built up in the day was near bursting now and one more item had to be removed. The cork that held the genie bottled up had to be popped and the genie in her mind had to watch it happen. So Anne spread her legs wide, braced her feet and bent ballerina like from the waist with one hand bracing before her on the floor; the other hand she ran past her now gapping pussy lips and on to the tight flesh of her buttock cheeks. Fingers and palm smoothed over the butt cheeks and pried them apart as Anne's abdominal muscles went to work and her sphincter sprang into action. Slow, sensuous circles of finger pressure eased into Anne's pulsating anus and her hips began to rotate and thrust. Anne was giving birth to her lust as she did each night.
As her anus relaxed and her ass hole widened, Anne's fingers reamed their way into her lust canal and found there the cork bottling her up. With a smile on her lips and a pursed puckering below, Anne slowly pulled the butt plug out ... but not all the way, just half way out. She watched and drew breath then released her fingers so the anal dildo, no longer held by hand, gave in to the pull of Anne's sphincter and plunged back into its dark hole of lust. Back went her finger to pull it out again. And so back and forth Anne played the toy like a violin bow and it made such sweet music up her ass. A full five minutes she played this game until at last she freed her butt hole of its plug. But the anal games had just begun.
In Anne's dresser drawer she kept boxes of condoms, three phallic vibrators and an assortment large rubber dildos. None of these toys ever entered her chaste pussy. Anne was a virgin and had never so much as touched herself, let alone allow a man or sex toy enter her virginal vagina. Indeed, she still had her cherry. No, she had never been kissed either. But every night of her life since she was 12, Anne had found ways of exciting herself anally. As a teen she used Vaseline and her finger. Later she discovered how a healthy **** of carrots and zucchini could be of use one way or another. In fact, she was one of the first to buy a microwave oven in the 1970s when it dawned on her how useful that might prove.
Anne enjoyed a light **** of soup and cheese and a hi-fibre cereal ( her usual fare ) while standing naked in her kitchen. She usually breakfasted with bran flakes and Metamucil each morning and for lunch enjoyed another hi-fibre treat. But now she retired to the bathroom where she prepared her nightly ablution ritual, a green tea enema administered by filling a one quart plastic water bottle with warm green tea. She lay in her tub with her legs spread and held high behind her. The bottles had squirt nozzles so when the tip was inserted up Anne's ass hole and the bottle squeezed, a jet of warm liquid shot up her anus and expunged all matter inside. The feeling was wonderful and the result was healthy and cleansing.
Her enema cleared and stimulated her anal passage for the hours of lust that lay ahead. For Anne watched no TV, did not read at night and certainly did not socialize. No, all her free time was spent on her one and only obsession, her anus. Her toys were clean and well lubricated and she used no less than three of them each night to keep that smile on her face, the smile that never saw the light of day.
She was one up tight bitch during the day; anally retentive was the polite expression. But she really let go at night!