Mariella’s Bottom

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With apologies to anyone whose online username I have accidentally stolen.

‘Fantasy is fun and porn makes me playful’. Mariella smiled to herself at her own silly thought as she settled into her chair, adjusted her bathrobe a bit more comfortably around her nicely rounded frame, and switched on her computer.

It was her habit, at least two or three times each alternate week, to log onto her favourite amateur erotica site and read a horny story before going to bed. That made sure that, in those weeks when her husband worked nights, her imagination had something to keep her fingers busy. She would read until she was well fired up, then slip off her bathrobe and slide naked into bed to bring herself to a back-arching, heart-pounding, mind-blowing, orgasm. Having her computer in the bedroom had its advantages.

In some ways she looked forwards to her fantasies. Neville had always been a rather unadventurous partner, with not much imagination and hardly any wish to experiment. So, in his absence and just in her head, she could harmlessly do exactly as her imagination and desires dictated, often following the storyline of her latest fictional heroine, but sometimes taking the story into places the author had never imagined. That way she could safely enjoy, by proxy, all the kinky acts that her mind both craved and feared.

She had her favourite authors, whose latest offering she looked for and greedily devoured, but sometimes she also liked to delve at random into the ‘newly posted’ story file, and read something she would not otherwise have chosen. Tonight was to be just such a ‘pot-luck’ story.

Logging into the story site Mariella quickly found her way to the new submissions and excitedly began to look for a juicy read. It’s alright going for pot-luck, she thought, but some subjects did nothing for her and one or two actually turned her off. So she scanned through the new submissions quickly, mentally rejecting anything that made her think ‘Yuk!’ and tagging as possible those that evoked an ‘Mmm’.

Eventually she settled on as story entitled ‘Cynthia tries it all’ by an author she’d not come across before called ‘Penpusher’. She chose it, not because the title held any particular significance, in fact it told her very little, but because her eyes lit on one paragraph as she checked through it, and that paragraph had to do with anal sex. She had read anal stories before and they always did the trick, sending her to bed with hot thoughts and busy fingers. Well, she told herself, just because the chance to do it for real has never cropped up (not that I ever would, she assured herself hastily), doesn’t mean I can’t get a buzz from reading about it. She had no idea why, but, although she had reached the age of fifty-four with a virgin bottom, she had always harboured a sort of deep down fascination for this most taboo kind of intercourse

She was tempted to go straight to the third page where she had spotted the reference to anal sex, but she decided that to do so would spoil the story and so she disciplined herself to start at the beginning. It turned out that she was glad she had, it was a hot and horny story, well constructed, well written, and full of very erotic imagery. Before she had even reached middle of the second page her hand had found its way into her bathrobe and was kneading her breast, and her breathing was noticeably heavier.

Simply put, the story was of Cynthia who, after a long and excruciatingly unexciting relationship finally broke up, found herself a new lover who was both highly sexed and very inventive. This new partner took her to sexual peaks she hadn’t reached before, doing things that she had only dreamed off and enjoying every moment of it.

Mariella identified with every word. She too had a dull sex life, and she too had wanted, longed for, someone who would make her into the kinky, sexually aware woman that Cynthia had become, except of course, Mariella had never done anything about it, and she was only too aware of the fact that the years had ticked away. So, in her mind, Cynthia became Mariella’s surrogate sex goddess by doing the things, in fiction at least, that Mariella had longed to do, and Cynthia was really showing her the way.

Before the first page was over Cynthia was being penetrated by a large black vibrator, and Mariella was already jealous. Neville would have a fit if his wife ever expressed an interest in sex toys and so she had never even held one. Sure, she’d tried ‘objects’, cucumbers were cool, in both senses of the word, and her hairbrush handle worked quite well, but the damn things didn’t vibrate. She’s tried leaning on the corner of the washing machine set to spin, but the damn thing didn’t go inside her, so she read about Cynthia’s playthings with envy.

The part where Cynthia was leaning back while a vibrator was played over her clit, back and forth, softly then firmly, had Mariella grunting as she squeezed her breast hard and shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, and then to read of it being gently pressed against Cynthia’s ‘rear entrance’ – Mariella couldn’t bring herself to say ‘arse’ güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri – made her squirm and groan in frustration. What she would give to have any attention at all paid to her own back door.

Then the story moved on and Cynthia was next found placed on her back with her legs wide as her lover gave her clit an intense tongue lashing. Fortunately this was one ‘deviation’ that Neville did indulge in when the mood struck, for a reciprocation of course and then not often, but at least Mariella knew what that felt like. Mariella loved oral sex, both giving and receiving, and she would have loved to do it more often. Neville was not all that practised at it, and although he brought her off orally, it was a bit predictable. First his tongue would probe her hole, and then his mouth would fasten over her clit while his tongue licked and flicked it until she came. God, she thought, if only he’d do it after he’s cum inside me, mentally voicing a long held fantasy.

Cynthia’s man (whose name Mariella had missed as she skimmed through the tamer parts of the story) was a veritable expert, bringing Cynthia to a screaming climax within minutes and then repeating the feat several times. He did as Neville did, but he also let his tongue tip roam up and down her pussy, nibbling her labia between lip-covered teeth as he went. His tongue stroked Cynthia from the very top of her pussy, from where he looked into Cynthia’s eyes and winked, to the very bottom, lapping gently at her perineum and nearly, so nearly, licking her anus, before returning to lick slowly the length of her cleft.

Mariella pulled the cord of her robe, letting it fall open so that she could reach more of her own body. Settling lower into her seat to allow her legs to open, she put her free hand on her pussy and, gently stroking herself as if in imitation of that tongue, she read on. Perhaps, she hoped, his tongue would reach down to Cynthia’s bottom in the next paragraph.

In fact it was two paragraphs later when she read that his tongue “slid wetly from her (Cynthia’s) pussy hole and delved lower to circle gently around her anus”. Mariella groaned softly, her frustration growing, especially as Cynthia spread her legs wider and pulled them right back to expose herself fully and give totally unrestricted access to her behind. Mariella would love to do that for someone, even if her aging hips played up from the unaccustomed exercise. She tried to reach lower to stroke her own anus with her fingertip, but her heavy thighs and the chair arms conspired to prevent her.

In the story Cynthia was encouraging her fictional suitor just as enthusiastically as Mariella would have, wanting his probing tongue to burrow into her back door, mouthing little sibilant ‘yeses’ and moaning with hot arousal. She could picture Cynthia so clearly, her legs right back, her shaved pussy (it had to be shaved) open and wet, and her little bottom hole glistening with her lovers saliva. In her imagination Mariella could almost feel the tip of a tongue probing her own puckered hole, coating the rim with cool wet spit before pushing just a little way into her, licking, circling, probing. Oh, if only!

But there was more to come, the man stopped licking Cynthia’s anus and began to play with a finger pressed against it, wriggling it a little to find the actual entrance. Mariella gasped at the thought and eagerly read on.

“He dipped his finger into Cynthia’s soaking cunt and used the lubrication to gain access to her arse, easing his fingertip just inside her sphincter.”

Mariella read the words and gasped out loud at the intensely erotic imagery they invoked.

“Then, with a little push and twist, he introduced his finger into Cynthia’s anal canal, pushing it second knuckle deep before wriggling it around inside her.”

Mariella groaned deeply in her throat and pushed two fingers way into her pussy, wishing all the time that it wasn’t her pussy they were entering and that they weren’t her own fingers. She couldn’t read anymore, not for the moment, her eyes closed and her imagination took over. Her fingers were thrusting into her pussy, her palm held flat against her clit as she stimulated herself towards orgasm. But in her head it was someone else’s fingers delving deep into her, and she knew, with absolute certainty, that they would soon be in her bottom. Mariella was embroiled in a fantasy of long standing, something she had dreamed of for years and it soon had her thrashing and jerking to a climax, one hand hooked into her pussy while the other mauled and pulled at her abused breast.

‘Well,’ she thought when it was finally over and her senses returned to normal, ‘at least I didn’t have to wait long for that one!’ It was not the end for the night, though, for Mariella was still horny, wanting more stimulation and needing to get to the part about Cynthia’s anal intercourse. She returned her attention to the computer screen, still trembling a little after her giant orgasm.

She ‘speed read’ the next couple of paragraphs, skipping over the text until her eyes saw that Cynthia güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri was turning over, getting onto her hands and knees ready to be taken. Then she slowed and began to read properly carefully absorbing everything on the screen.

In Mariella’s mind Cynthia was clearly pictured as the story described her, kneeling, her knees apart, resting on her elbows, with her head down and her bottom raised, so vulnerable, so enticing, and so ready. He was moving forward, shuffling on his knees until he was close enough to be able to grip her waist and pull her to him. Mariella leaned forward entranced, as if getting closer to the screen would bring her closer to the action.

In the story the man reached for a little bottle from the bedside cabinet and poured a little pool of lube into his palm, before putting the bottle back and dipping his fingertips into the lube. Mariella was surprised at this, she had believed that all sexual lubricants were gels and came in tubes, but she mentally shrugged and went back to the story. The man was now touching Cynthia’s bottom, spreading the lubrication around her tiny wrinkled entrance, making it shine with slickness. Then he rolled his fingertip in his lube filled palm and placed it back against Cynthia’s anus, pushing lightly on it to enter and lubricate the actual opening. Mariella read on, enthralled.

With Cynthia now lubricated and ready, the story now told Mariella how the man wrapped his hand around his cock and coated it with the remaining lube. Then he inched forward, holding his cock out straight before him, pointing it towards Cynthia’s bottom and guiding it until the tip rested against the little puckered hole that was Cynthia’s anus. Mariella was breathing hard again and her fingers were once more gently playing with her clit.

Then the man leaned forward, not thrusting, but just allowing his weight to press his cock into Cynthia who knelt before him, holding herself firm against his pressure and willing herself to accommodate his cock. She could, the story said, feel her sphincter muscles stretching, slowly opening as his cock nosed its way forward.

“Then her sphincter relented and allowed him to slide his cock deep into the velvety warmth of her rectum.”

As Mariella read those words a delicious shiver passed through her. She could almost feel her own sphincter expanding, forced open to allow a cock into her body, and she could feel her rectum being distended to take its girth as it pushed right into her. If only – God, if only – that could be her own real life rectum, not that of some fictional creature who existed only on the screen of her computer and in the imagination of the author. She immediately scolded herself for her envy, smiling thinly at the stupidity of being jealous of a work of fiction. It was the author’s fault she told herself, if ‘Penpusher’ had not done such a good job of bringing his creation to life she would not have been able to identify with her so well. Her fingers were now hard at work, taking her towards an uncommon second climax of the evening.

She read more, reading how he thrust into Cynthia, plunging deep into her rectum, slamming his body up against her bottom as he forced the last half inch into her. She read of how Cynthia’s initial discomfort gave way to pleasure, then to ecstasy, as she was well and truly anally reamed out. How Mariella longed to have a rock hard cock thrusting in and out of her own rectum that way. She was clenching her buttocks as she played in her pussy, trying to imagine what it would feel like to have anal intercourse. Why had that damned author turned her on so much?

Meanwhile, the words on the screen were telling Mariella how Cynthia could feel the cock inside her begin to twitch and how its thrusts became disjointed as her lover’s orgasm approached. They were telling how Cynthia prepared herself, physically and mentally for his climax and for her to take his cum into her arse, and they then told her how both came in unison, the man roaring loudly and plunging into Cynthia as he spurted his thick cum deep inside her rectum, while she held on tight and fought the waves of ecstasy that rolled emanated from her anus and rolled through her body, threatening to make her dislodge her lover. Mariella came with them, her overheated imagination identifying with Cynthia, mentally wanting to accept the fictional cum into her own real passage and feeling genuine disappointment that nothing was spurting into her body.

Mariella did not usually have two orgasms from one story, and it was unheard f for her to cum twice while still reading, but tonight was the exception and her body rose from the chair as her pussy tried to take more of her fingers than she actually possessed, surges of pleasure engulfing her and forcing involuntary thrusts and shudders to sweep over her frame.

She could take no more, still gasping and panting she hurriedly closed down her computer and, leaving the bathrobe draped over the chair as she got up, she tottered on jelly legs to the bed and slid sweating and trembling between the sheets.

For güvenilir bahis şirketleri what seemed a long while Mariella lay there waiting for her pounding heart to return to normal and her breathing to quieten down. “Wow!” She said to herself eventually.

For a while longer she laid thinking about the story she had read and the effect it had had on her. Never, ever, had she been so turned on by the words on a computer screen, and she wondered whether it was the story, her own fantasy of anal sex, or a combination of both. Finally she came to the conclusion that it was neither. Instead it was the fact that she had, for the first time, thought very seriously about it happening to her for real while she read the fiction, and it was that possible reality that had done the trick. Most especially it was the line that read “Then her sphincter relented and allowed him to slide his cock deep into the velvety warmth of her rectum.” She went over that line time after time in her mind, absorbing every word, savouring the picture it conjured up, and so earnestly wanting to feel that same delicious penetration.

As she lay there she realised with something of a shock that her fingers had returned to her pussy of their own accord and the very thought of taking anal penetration had made her horny again. As she thought about it she wondered just what it would feel like to have a cock sliding into her bottom. Would it hurt, would it feel like going to the loo in reverse, what the hell would it be like? Words were fine but they could not convey the reality, and Mariella wanted the reality.

“I don’t know how yet.” She spoke aloud into the darkness of her silent bedroom. “But I’m going to get my arse fucked!” She blushed invisibly at her own use of taboo words and at the realisation that she meant every one of them.

Then, as if satisfied that a decision had been made, Mariella deliberately ignored the urge to masturbate again and rolled over to sleep.

For the next two or three days Mariella turned her resolution over in her mind, sometimes being certain she would go through with it, sometimes deciding to renege on her own decision. More than once she went back to the story and re-read part or all of it. Every time she read it she wanted anal sex, but in between times she worried about it, wondering if she would really enjoy it, and who she could get to do it with her. Then she read the story again, deliberately stopping at the line that had turned her on so much, “Then her sphincter relented and allowed him to slide his cock deep into the velvety warmth of her rectum.” The line made her bottom wriggle in anticipation and her decision was made, and this time irrevocably.

“Right!” She told herself. “You do want it, so stop making excuses to yourself and do something about it.”

One other thing she decided she must do was to post feedback to ‘Penpusher’ for his story, telling him how it had affected her and how it had helped her want to try anal sex herself. That she would do straight away, and then she would consider how to get things moving on the other front – or was it rear?

She logged in once more, turning to the story and its feedback page and beginning to type. “What a fantastic story, thank you very much. I am a fifty-four year old anal virgin and that is how I want someone someday to introduce me to anal sex. Please keep writing, I am looking forward to more stories in this series as the subject fascinates me”. It wasn’t quite what she had intended writing but it was what she felt, so she pressed ‘send’ and started to think about how to lose her anal cherry.

That, she very quickly realised, was going to be the difficult part. For one thing, who was she going to get to help her? It wasn’t going to be Neville, he’d never dream of having anal sex, and she could hardly put a notice in her window ‘anal help wanted’. The more she thought about it the more frustrated she became and the further away her dream. “Damn it, I’ll think of something!” she said turning away from the problem for the time being.

By the nature of things, her determination faded with the heat between her legs, until the resolute decision to experience anal intercourse had become a case of ‘well, if the chance comes up I’ll take it.’ Mariella knew that was a total cop out. If the chance had never arisen in the last fifty-four years, why would it suddenly come galloping over the horizon now? She resigned herself to her own wimpish behaviour and put the idea to the back of her mind.

But then an unexpected reply to her feedback email brought things back to the fore. ‘Penpusher’ had replied to thank her for saying nice things about his stories and to say that if she ever got around to trying anal sex, he was sure she would enjoy receiving it as much as he did giving, adding the rider that she should be careful who she chose as a partner, as a caring, patient introduction would help enormously. ‘Thanks’ she thought, that really helps. Now I’ve not only got to find a willing partner but be choosy with it – as if there was a queue. But she appreciated his concern and giggled at his expression ‘make sure you don’t get a bum deal’ with which he closed, and settled down to write back. Then she noticed that he had added her to his Messenger list and she was being asked to ‘ok’ the connection. She clicked ‘yes’ with few reservations, knowing that he could always be blocked later.

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