[This is a continuation of the Mrs. Tupa stories. These stories are absolutely not for everyone, so please look elsewhere if you do not enjoy reading about bodily fluids and matter, oral-anal contact, strong smells, body hair, and elderly widows. I humbly request that you do not down-vote this story, just because you may have issues with it. This could have also been placed in the mature, anal, BDSM, or even romance categories, but fetish seems the most broadly-inclusive for this story’s fixations. All characters in this story are over 18. This is purely a fantasy, and bears very little resemblance to reality. Please enjoy.]
We missed each other, it was as simple as that.
When I look back on my early days, when I first turned 18 and was seduced by Anna Tupa — the elderly Czech widow who lived next door to my family’s home — everything that followed seemed to come at me fast and furious. Despite the vast difference in years between Mrs. Tupa and myself, we fell for each… hard! She introduced me to the earthy Bohemian traditions and customs that were still preserved by the Bohemian church, and before long I felt called to explore them further by becoming a catechumen at Mrs. Tupa’s parish, under the instruction and guidance of Father Viktor.
Before I knew it, I’d moved into the Church’s Rectory and was on an accelerated track to become a lay server, visiting the homes of the many Czech widows who made up the majority of the parish’s congregation. According to the practices of the Bohemian church, the Bohemian community looked after each others’ needs and desires, especially according to the communal values of natural body acceptance and mystical rituals of defecation, urination, and anal affection. This was heady stuff for an inexperienced 18-year old, who was mostly heeding the call of my hormones and the tender love that Mrs. Tupa inspired in my heart.
Barely ten days into my catechumenate, I’d had intimate encounters with Mother Magdalene, Dame Taborova, novice Sister Katka Dvorakova, and a few other congregants. These had all been wonderful in their own ways, but I couldn’t help but feel that Mrs. Tupa had gotten lost in the shuffle. She had gone from receiving me into her loving arms several nights a week, to making do with sporadic visits whenever I could break away from my lay service duties. Something had to change. I brought this up with Father Viktor the next day when we met for my daily guidance and instruction.
* * *
“Father, as you know, it was the love between Mrs. Tupa and me that first drew me into feeling a calling to join the parish and serve its congregation. I still feel that call and have felt blessed to put it in motion, but I fear that in doing so, I’ve been negligent of Mrs. Tupa’s needs. Can we work out some arrangement where I can spend at least one night with her each week and attend to her needs? She is a very dear soul who I feel a special love for, and I don’t want my catechumen duties to force me to abandon her.”
“Brother Jack, I hear you and thank you for sharing your concerns. What you request is entirely reasonable and a reminder to us to keep our priorities straight. Please confer with Mrs. Tupa and see if there is a night each week that would work best for an overnight stay with her. Perhaps, Friday nights? Since it is Friday today, why don’t you see if she can receive you and you have my permission to stay the night.”
I was heartened by the good Father’s generous approach to accommodating my concerns. I gave Mrs. Tupa a call to see if she was free this evening. She was delighted to hear from me, and proposed that I join her for dinner at her home. I was excited that I would be once again paying her a visit in her familiar surroundings.
* * *
I suppose it must seem strange to others that I would be rhapsodizing about once again being in Mrs. Tupa’s embrace. Anna Tupa was at least 50 years older than me, and short and stocky, with a lovely big butt and saggy pendulous titties. But to me, she was erotic love personified. Upon my first in-person encounters with her in the flesh, I had become a convert to the Bohemian view that there is nothing so sacred or as lovely as our communing with each other in our natural, hairy, and physically embodied states.
All this was on my mind as I rang Mrs. Tupa’s doorbell and waited for her to answer it. She must have been in the kitchen, as it took her a minute or so to come to her front door and let me in. No sooner was I inside than she cried out my name in delight and hugged me to her in what I now knew was an Embrace of Eden. Anna was able to make time stand still on a moment’s notice as we pressed ourselves against each other and felt the içel seks hikayeleri warm glow of our hearts merging as one. When we finally broke our embrace, I was so aroused by her strong projection of love, that my member had swollen and stiffened, poking itself into her navel. She gave it a fond little pat, and looked up at me with a sultry smile.
“Jack, I think we miss each other, no?”
“You can say that again, Anna. At least this time, I can stay the whole night, which was never an option when I was still living at home.”
She hustled me into her kitchen, which was filled with the aroma of sausages, gravy, boiled cabbage, paprika, and dumplings. She had me open a chilled bottle of Riesling, as she dished up dinner onto our plates. Then we settled into the delicious hot meal, stocking up for sharing our pee and poop a bit later. While we ate, Mrs. Tupa filled me in on parish gossip from her circle of friends.
“Jack! You talk of whole parish. Friends tell me you have month-long waiting list for home visits. Those you visit already say you put them in Heaven. Word be spreading quickly.”
“Well, Anna, I do seem to be filling a vacuum in the parish’s needs department. Do you see what you started?”
Mrs. Tupa nodded her head with a drawn out sigh.
“When Zuzana and I suggest you join parish, we not realize what going to happen. It big mistake. Now we be at back of line.”
I put my silverware down and reaching across the table and took Mrs. Tupa’s small hands in mine.
“Please don’t say that, Anna. You and Zuzana had all the best intentions in the world. You wanted to share your community with me and share me with your community. That was a kind and generous thing to want to do. It has just needed a little adjusting. But the good news is that Father Viktor has agreed to allow me to visit you one evening a week and even to allow me to stay with you overnight. That’s not too bad, is it? You’ll get better attention from me, more often, than anyone else will.”
Mrs. Tupa’s mood perked up markedly. A warm smile returned to her face and she gave my hands a little squeeze of her own.
“That be wonderful, Jack! And if Zuzana want join us, now and then?”
“That would be perfectly fine. You two make quite a tag team, I have to say.”
“I not know what tag team mean, but it be good?”
“Quite good, yes. You two were so relaxed together, I’d almost think that you had shared a bed together more than once.”
Mrs. Tupa blushed, but gave me a lewd smile and a chuckle.
“Zuzana and I, we be very close friends, Jack. It no sin. Bohemian Church teach that we can meet each other’s needs and share love. It very common in parish with so many widows. Even Mother Magdalene and the sisters help fill congregation’s needs. Sometimes, on special holy days, whole parish share sacraments and join together in Love Feasts. It beautiful. You see soon.”
* * *
Now secure in the knowledge that I would be a regular visitor with overnight privileges, Mrs. Tupa was revving herself up to an almost manic high. Consuming a bottle of wine with our meal together didn’t hurt either. No sooner had we cleaned things up in the kitchen, then she was dragging me by the hand to her upstairs bathroom. She stripped off her clothes in a blink of the eye, save for her black quilted bullet bra which she knew I had a weakness for. As I shed my clothes quickly, Anna sat herself down on the john, her legs spread wide and her silver-haired beaver on display.
“We pee!” she exclaimed, and proceeded to noisily splash her stream of piss into the bowl. I stepped up to her and aimed my prick at her twat and cut loose. As my hot stream hit her, she almost yodeled in her joy that we were together again, sharing our intimate liquids. She ran out of urine well before I did, and stuck her hand onto her vulva and started vigorously fingering herself into an orgasmic frenzy, as I continued to piss all over her crotch and hand. When my stream finally ended, she leapt up, not bothering to wipe herself, and waited for me to take her place on the commode. Then she backed herself onto my lap, pushing herself tightly against me so that we could both aim our sphincters into the bowl below.
“We shit!” she announced, as we both squirmed, trying to evacuate our bowels together. With much grunting and farting, we succeeded in pushing our stinky sacraments out through our anuses and into the porcelain bowl below. I was especially enjoying kneading her big bazooms through her bullet bra, which was making her giggle with glee. I sensed that she was working herself up to a special celebratory fuck, no doubt one so sinful that mortification of the flesh would be called for. She was determined to make the most of my return to her arms.
After we cleaned ourselves up, Anna hurried to her bedroom, briskly pulled the bedcovers down, and clambered into bed, still sporting her bullet bra. She patted the bed beside her, not needing to even speak a word. I knew what she wanted and I was happy to give it to her. I got on my hands and knees, hugged a pillow beneath my chin and stuck my butt in the air. It was time for the Kiss of Peace.
From my readings in Bohemian history, it was unclear exactly where this very popular ritual was derived from. Critics of the Bohemian Church noted that the crusading Knights Templar had been accused of ritually kissing the anus of a goat-headed idol named “Baphomet” as part of their initiations. There were also Medieval accusations against so-called witches that they flew off on their brooms to Sabbats with the Devil, whose anus they too kissed. However, both these dubious tales had been extracted through torture by Catholic inquisitors who tended to keep at it until they got the confessions that they wanted. More research was called for. Meanwhile, back to the business at hand.
Mrs. Tupa was so happy to have me once again with her, that she was rubbing her face all over my hairy cheeks, muttering a string of Czech words that I took to be little love names. Then, she kicked things up a notch, and began munching my sphincter and licking up and down my butt crack. She had once told me that the Kiss of Peace was her favorite dessert, and I believed her, as she was lovingly moving her tongue around as if I had an ice cream cone up my ass. I don’t mean to try your patience with yet another lengthy description of her holy rim-jobs, so let’s just say that she was making me feel well loved.
Then it was my turn to make her feel well loved, and I think she got the message as I probed my tongue as far up her rectum as it could reach. For Bohemians, the anus truly is the aperture of love, the hidden passageway between heaven and earth. So intense was Anna’s rapture from my tongue’s caresses, that she was sobbing into her pillow, once again secure in the knowledge that her sweetheart was looking after her.
After our shared ritual was over, as she wiped away her tears and tried to regain her composure, she hugged me to her and whispered huskily, “my dear dear love, how I miss you. It so good you be back! I want do very shameful sex tonight that be very intense. Please agree.”
“Sure thing, Anna. Just as long as it’s not illegal,” I teased her.
“Jack! Please! It not illegal! Grave sin, perhaps, but that what penance be for. I think you enjoy. It special treat for me. Okay?”
All I could do was nod. I didn’t know what she had up her sleeve, but it was sure to be a further peek into her curious needs and cravings. Mrs. Tupa could seem so simple at times, but so complex at others. What I had no doubt about was that she was invariably honest and without guile. She was my first lover and mentor, and one of the most lovely people that I’ve ever known. She had it all: she was a kindly soul, a depraved siren, and a loving explorer of filth. If there was anything so basic as a Bohemian archetype, she was it. I was ready to follow her desires for tonight, no question about it.
* * *
Mrs. Tupa inaugurated her “shameful treat” by unfastening her black bullet bra, enabling her magnificent bazooms to tumble free. By no means do I intend to disparage them by fondly calling them “bazooms”. Anna herself often referred to them as her “boobies” or “titties”, and they were all that and more. The Bohemian gene pool must have self-selected for amazing racks, as nearly every Czech woman who I had the good fortune to see in their natural state was endowed with the most beautiful teats I had ever seen.
They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and to behold Mrs. Tupa’s girls was to instantly feel a strong urge to suckle them for as long as she could stand. She had warned me, the first time that we made love, that they were “very sensitive”, which I interpreted in my naivete to mean that I should barely touch them at all. Boy, did I get that wrong! What she intended to convey was that the key to drawing her into a state of abandoned arousal was to fondle, nibble, suck and gobble them for all I was worth. I was invariably rewarded with a gush of her cunt juices making her labia all slippery and filling the bedroom with the musky scent of her most intimate parts.
Yes, her breasts sagged nearly to her navel and were decorated with a network of blue veins beneath the surface of her soft flesh, while vertical stretch marks graced their upper climes. Her nipples, when aroused, stood out like sewing thimbles and her cocoa areolas were covered with sensitive little bumps that she loved for me to gum between my lips. The hornier she grew, the more she liked for me to tug and stretch them every which way, not cruelly or callously, but attuned to her expressive cries and whimpers.
Tonight, she was especially hungry for this treatment, which I indulged in while tonguing and kissing her hairy puss. Finally, as she approached a state of elevated abandon, she had me pause while she grabbed a woven basket near the side of her bed and handed it to me. It was full of several dozen miniature plastic clothespins in a bright assortment of colors.
“Now you mortify boobies with pins, then fuck my slit, but cum on face. I like very much. Okay, Jack?”
That’s my Anna, I thought to myself. Always coming up with a new wrinkle. No doubt her logic was that mortifying her flesh at the same time as enjoying vaginal penetration took care of needing any other penance. Plus the way her nervous system had rewired itself, having her teats covered by a swarm of tiny clothespins actually translated into bliss.
“Okay, Anna. Whatever you like. Just lay back and relax and I’ll get you all pinned up.”
I sat between her thick thighs with her knees raised and my swollen prick throbbing against her furry nest, dripping precum into her juice-dampened pubes, now and then spanking her pink bean with my member’s ruby crown. So comfortably situated, I set to covering her lavish boobies with dozens of clothespins set about an inch from each other, pinching her flesh with their little stings. At first she winced with the application of each pin, but as I proceeded the winces were replaced by little “oh”s, until finally applying the last two pins to her stiffened nipples, she let out a long sigh and gazed at me with hooded eyes as if in a blissful trance.
I extracted myself from my seated posture and sat on my haunches, leaning my trunk forward and spanking her slippery love flaps with my cockhead, as if knocking on her door begging entry.
As if out of the clouds of Heaven, her voice begged me to enter and I happily complied. I pushed my stiffened organ in, inch by inch in a kind of gentle sawing motion, until I was in to the hilt, soaking in the warm clutches of her vaginal muscles. At her urging, I began to fuck her, reaching under her pin-covered whoppers and making them wobble back and forth, the plastic pins clicking and clacking against each other, as if her breasts were covered with multi-colored cicadas. Perhaps I make this sound too grotesque, as there really was a feeling between us of loving play, Mrs. Tupa glorying in her sweet agony, all the while receiving the sinfully delicious thumping that my absence had made her crave.
My strategy, to the degree I had one, was to hold off my own ejaculation until her orgasmic lust was sated. This meant that I had to pause my thrusts, now and then, and even pull out, a time or two, to better keep my seed from exploding within her. We kept up like this for some time, fucking and pausing, fucking and pausing, until it turned into a rhythm of mini-climaxes for her, helped along by her fingering her clit and its hood, producing little squirts of love juice at each peak. Finally she allowed herself a concentrated cum, during which she grunted and groaned as I slid my right middle finger around in her clenching rectum, until she went rigid and then let go, helplessly peeing herself as I suddenly withdrew and squatted over her, covering her face with string after string of spermy goo. Hoo boy! What a night.
Of course, what goes up, must come down. The same little pins that had eventually taken her to a zone of bliss, produced a sharp sting as they were removed, as blood denied rushed back in, pin after pin. I recalled the soothing salve she had in her bedside drawer, and rushed to spread it all over her pink-spotted boobies and rub it in to help restore her circulation and ease her pain. Mrs. Tupa was still lying there in a daze, like a cum slut savoring her spunking, so I went to her bathroom, wet a washcloth, and brought it back to clean off her face and restore her dignity.
Eventually, Mrs. Tupa got herself out of bed for a final bedtime pee. Though she must have been pretty rung out, she still took me with her, insisting I share a ritual pee. Then clad in a sheer nightgown, she got into bed beside me, kissed me good night, hugged me tight, and was off to dreamland before I could count to ten. What a gal!
[Many thanks for all supportive comments, feedback, and 5-star ratings. Thanks also to margaret_jenkins and lesliejones for their proofreading, editing, and feedback. If you like my stories, but are not familiar with theirs, do seek them out. Private messages are welcome.]