Strict Susan
01-27-2009, 1:44 PM
Inspired, of course, by the comments from Bently on my "Hairy Peter" threads here.
This is the first chapter of something that might turn into a full book - or a series of related short stories. Comments welcome - although, as I told Bently, I'm not entirely sure that Lotta Bottomley isn't just a little too large for most readers...
****************************************
Lotta Bottomley was not magical.
There was no reason to suppose she should have been magical, of course. Peter, naturally, was magical, having inherited his wizarding abilities from his parents.
Peter, however, was no longer living in the same house as Lotta, nor sleeping under her bed every night. Having reached the age of eighteen, Peter was now attending Fessewarts University for witches and wizards, which had come as a complete surprise to him on his eighteenth birthday.
Losing Peter was a great disappointment to Lotta, even though he did return to the house three times a year when the University was closed. She made the most of those occasions, particularly because for some strange reason that Lotta did not understand, Peter was unable to use his magic within that particular house. Lotta, therefore, was able to do exactly as she liked without any risk that Peter would be able to stop her.
Lotta never did quite understand why Peter would want to stop her. She assumed it must be because he was shy and inexperienced. After all, what man could possibly object to such uninhibited pleasures of the flesh? Lotta was quite certain that any man should be excited and aroused beyond control at the mere sight of her womanly charms, and if Peter or any man was a little reluctant, then Lotta simply had to make sure he was in no position to turn down the pleasures she intended to provide.
Without Peter, Lotta would have to look further afield. The world was full of eligible young men, and most of them – so her mother had once warned her – desperate to get their hands and other parts of their anatomy on female flesh. That, to Lotta, was not a problem. Female flesh was a commodity that, on Lotta, was plentiful. She was, to put it mildly, a little larger than the average female yet somehow still thought of herself as sprightly and lithesome. Surely, for a girl such as she, there were millions of young men who would be only too pleased to satisfy her burning desires? There must be, Lotta reasoned, and she was determined to find them.
*
“Mother, I’m going out,” declared Lotta loudly.
“All right, dear,” agreed Inger Bottomley in a tone of voice that said more clearly than any words it was not even remotely all right for Lotta to go out so late in the evening. “You’re an adult now, so you can do as you please. Just remember everything I’ve told you.”
“Mother! I’ve been an adult for four years,” Lotta pointed out. “My friends from school have been going out on their own for years and years.”
“I know,” said her mother. “You haven’t much experience of men, dear. I’ve told you what they’re like. They have desires. You need to be very careful. They’re not all like Peter, you know.”
Lotta considered her mother’s words. Certainly, she had never noticed a great deal of desire from Peter when she was on top of him. At first, his main desire seemed to be to escape from underneath her. Later, when Peter had learned that it was impossible to break free once Lotta had his head between her meaty thighs and her weight pressing down on him, his efforts to please her were actually quite laudable. Admittedly, Lotta considered, he had never shown much enthusiasm for the task of assisting her to reach that heaving, quaking climax she needed so often, but he was undoubtedly a quick learner. His oral attentions while confined in that fleshy, damp, nearly airless position were truly magnificent, and invariably produced a much quicker and much more satisfying result than when Lotta was obliged to generate the physical sensations entirely by her own movement on his face. In fact, as Lotta noticed on many occasions, once he discovered how to do precisely what Lotta needed, Peter was often still conscious when she finally rolled her huge bulk off him.
A quiver went through Lotta as she remembered the last time she had tied Peter to her bed, naked and spread-eagled. Of course, it made sense to have him tied. Although Lotta was sufficiently heavy to prevent any possibility that he might get away until she had finished with him, it was so distracting to have his hands clutching or beating at her when it started to become too much for him.
She had never quite worked out why it was always more satisfying to have him naked when she did it. She had no particular interest in the rest of his body, although those uniquely male bits did prove to hold a fascination for Lotta from time to time. Her pudgy fingers explored, squeezed, pulled, pushed, rubbed, pinched, twisted, slapped and flicked, experimenting to discover what sort of reaction could be provoked by any particular stimulus. On a few occasions Lotta also decided to see what would happen by judicious application of tongue, lips and teeth. It was not a great success, primarily because she did not particularly like the taste and secondly because it was much more difficult to see Peter’s reactions when her head was down in his groin area. True, she could hear his plaintive cries and screams when she used her teeth vigorously, but it was not quite the same as being able to watch the expression on his face and see the rise and fall of his tormented member.
It would be weeks before Peter returned. Lotta simply could not wait until then. She had to find a man.
“I’m going out, Mother,” she repeated. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Don’t wait up for me. I might be very late back.”
With that, Lotta Bottomley grabbed her coat and left, before her mother could raise any further objections. She was sure she had no need of her mother’s advice. Lotta knew exactly where she was going, and exactly what she intended to do when she got there. The only question in her mind was “with whom?”
This is the first chapter of something that might turn into a full book - or a series of related short stories. Comments welcome - although, as I told Bently, I'm not entirely sure that Lotta Bottomley isn't just a little too large for most readers...
****************************************
Lotta Bottomley was not magical.
There was no reason to suppose she should have been magical, of course. Peter, naturally, was magical, having inherited his wizarding abilities from his parents.
Peter, however, was no longer living in the same house as Lotta, nor sleeping under her bed every night. Having reached the age of eighteen, Peter was now attending Fessewarts University for witches and wizards, which had come as a complete surprise to him on his eighteenth birthday.
Losing Peter was a great disappointment to Lotta, even though he did return to the house three times a year when the University was closed. She made the most of those occasions, particularly because for some strange reason that Lotta did not understand, Peter was unable to use his magic within that particular house. Lotta, therefore, was able to do exactly as she liked without any risk that Peter would be able to stop her.
Lotta never did quite understand why Peter would want to stop her. She assumed it must be because he was shy and inexperienced. After all, what man could possibly object to such uninhibited pleasures of the flesh? Lotta was quite certain that any man should be excited and aroused beyond control at the mere sight of her womanly charms, and if Peter or any man was a little reluctant, then Lotta simply had to make sure he was in no position to turn down the pleasures she intended to provide.
Without Peter, Lotta would have to look further afield. The world was full of eligible young men, and most of them – so her mother had once warned her – desperate to get their hands and other parts of their anatomy on female flesh. That, to Lotta, was not a problem. Female flesh was a commodity that, on Lotta, was plentiful. She was, to put it mildly, a little larger than the average female yet somehow still thought of herself as sprightly and lithesome. Surely, for a girl such as she, there were millions of young men who would be only too pleased to satisfy her burning desires? There must be, Lotta reasoned, and she was determined to find them.
*
“Mother, I’m going out,” declared Lotta loudly.
“All right, dear,” agreed Inger Bottomley in a tone of voice that said more clearly than any words it was not even remotely all right for Lotta to go out so late in the evening. “You’re an adult now, so you can do as you please. Just remember everything I’ve told you.”
“Mother! I’ve been an adult for four years,” Lotta pointed out. “My friends from school have been going out on their own for years and years.”
“I know,” said her mother. “You haven’t much experience of men, dear. I’ve told you what they’re like. They have desires. You need to be very careful. They’re not all like Peter, you know.”
Lotta considered her mother’s words. Certainly, she had never noticed a great deal of desire from Peter when she was on top of him. At first, his main desire seemed to be to escape from underneath her. Later, when Peter had learned that it was impossible to break free once Lotta had his head between her meaty thighs and her weight pressing down on him, his efforts to please her were actually quite laudable. Admittedly, Lotta considered, he had never shown much enthusiasm for the task of assisting her to reach that heaving, quaking climax she needed so often, but he was undoubtedly a quick learner. His oral attentions while confined in that fleshy, damp, nearly airless position were truly magnificent, and invariably produced a much quicker and much more satisfying result than when Lotta was obliged to generate the physical sensations entirely by her own movement on his face. In fact, as Lotta noticed on many occasions, once he discovered how to do precisely what Lotta needed, Peter was often still conscious when she finally rolled her huge bulk off him.
A quiver went through Lotta as she remembered the last time she had tied Peter to her bed, naked and spread-eagled. Of course, it made sense to have him tied. Although Lotta was sufficiently heavy to prevent any possibility that he might get away until she had finished with him, it was so distracting to have his hands clutching or beating at her when it started to become too much for him.
She had never quite worked out why it was always more satisfying to have him naked when she did it. She had no particular interest in the rest of his body, although those uniquely male bits did prove to hold a fascination for Lotta from time to time. Her pudgy fingers explored, squeezed, pulled, pushed, rubbed, pinched, twisted, slapped and flicked, experimenting to discover what sort of reaction could be provoked by any particular stimulus. On a few occasions Lotta also decided to see what would happen by judicious application of tongue, lips and teeth. It was not a great success, primarily because she did not particularly like the taste and secondly because it was much more difficult to see Peter’s reactions when her head was down in his groin area. True, she could hear his plaintive cries and screams when she used her teeth vigorously, but it was not quite the same as being able to watch the expression on his face and see the rise and fall of his tormented member.
It would be weeks before Peter returned. Lotta simply could not wait until then. She had to find a man.
“I’m going out, Mother,” she repeated. “I’ll be careful, I promise. Don’t wait up for me. I might be very late back.”
With that, Lotta Bottomley grabbed her coat and left, before her mother could raise any further objections. She was sure she had no need of her mother’s advice. Lotta knew exactly where she was going, and exactly what she intended to do when she got there. The only question in her mind was “with whom?”