There is a tradition in theatre and the cinema of the fat comic actor or actress. Extreme contrasts are often funny, so pairing a skinny person with a fat person - a la Laurel and Hardy - is a common practise. But also humour often comes when our preconceptions are undermined. And sexually many of us expect that only relatively thin people will be attractive to the opposite sex, and also that those who are not thin realise their unattractiveness and will not aggressively pursue the opposite sex. Thus a man who falls desperately in love with a fat women can be the butt of a joke as can a fat woman who uninhibitedly pursues men.
But ironically, some of the women who performed in these kinds of comedy, challenged the validity of such preconceptions in their personal lives. In some cases they have been spectacularly lusty and lusted after. Two examples are Jean Hill (from the John Waters movies - Desperate Living, Polyester and A Dirty Shame) and Hattie Jacques (television and radio comedienne and star of the Carry On series of films).
The first time John Waters went to meet Jean Hill to see about casting her in Desperate Living, she opened the door and immediately grabbed his crotch. She's a very sexual woman who claims to have had sex with approximately 400 men in her life. And she was the lust object of many a male fan. Talking about her fan mail in an interview with Jack Stevenson (Desperate Visions : The Journal of Alternative Cinema - No. 1 - Camp America - John Waters / George & Mike Kuchar (1996) : "I had more offers to get this cunt ate than the law allows..." As well as giving hilarious performances in Waters movies, she was also a model in men's magazines and on greetings cards.
Hattie Jacques is best remembered sailing like a battleship down the corridors of a hospital as the intimidating but romantic and lusty matron of Carry On Nurse, Carry On Doctor, Carry On Again Doctor and Carry on Matron. Often the recipient of her passionate attentions was the weedy Kenneth Williams. But a recent biography and the tele-movie adapted from it have presented a portrait of the Hattie we didn't know.
And now we discover that the buxom Hattie Jacques - who famously played the overweight matron figure, with a glint in her eye - was lusty to the point of nymphomania off-screen. And what's more, her ample size served only to make her many suitors even keener.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1280269/Ooh-Carry-On-Hatties-bedroom.html#ixzz1CoxjZiqa
The main reason for this post though is to launch the first instalment of a new Anita story :
Anita the Collector
The name’s Bristol. Bertie Bristol. I’m a private dick.
I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “He just slipped that dick in there for a cheap laugh.” Well, if you’ve got a better place I can slip it in just let me know.
I’ve had some strange cases in my time, but the strangest of them all was the spate of disappearances of attractive young men on the tropical island of Bazooma. They all went missing in Strangways Valley, an area that soon became known as the Bazooma Triangle.
Really there wasn’t much of a mystery about who was responsible. Only one person lived in Stangways Valley. The real problem was to find out where they were, whether they could be rescued and whether or not a crime had been committed at all. On the last point, I’m still not sure. It depends on who you ask.
The solitary resident of Strangways was Anita Handwriting, heiress of the non-stick bubblegum fortune. Anita was an extremely large but handsome African American woman in her early fifties who was known around the island for her generosity and her warm and cheeky personality. Noone could really believe that any men who had ventured into her territory could have been harmed in anyway. But the mystery remained. Every man who had visited her mansion, for whatever reason, for the last six months had not returned. One man had gone to wash her windows, another to deliver registered mail. There had also been a personal trainer she’d hired, a documentary filmmaker wanting to make a movie about rich women and two Mormons. These were only the ones who could be confirmed as visitors to her mansion. Many other men had also disappeared on the island during that time, and naturally it was suspected that they had met the same fate, whatever that might be.
There was only one thing to do. I would have to pay a call on Ms. Handwriting myself. Strapping on a magnum, a Saturday Night special, a bullet proof vest, two throwing knives and a can of pepper spray, I set off. It was a short drive to the gates of her property, but a long walk up to her front door.
I pressed the buzzer on the large ornamental portal to her abode. Rather than a buzzing sound, I heard the sound of a loud gong reverberating within.
The door opened and there stood Anita, wrapped in a long silk dressing gown that was tied around her waist with a purple sash. I could tell from all the jiggling going on beneath the silk, that it was all she had on. This, combined with the directness with which she looked me in the eye and the warmth of her embracing smile caused my cock to swell uncomfortably in my tight jeans.
“How can I help you?” asked Anita.
“Ma’am, I’m here to get to the bottom of a mystery,” I declared.
“Oh, really?” Anita seemed surprised, but pleased. “I love mysteries...and bottoms.” She gave a naughty wink.
“Well...err...what it is...” I stumbled.
“Perhaps you should come inside and we can get more comfortable,” suggested Anita.
She led me into her large front room, which contained a couple of sofas, some large arm chairs, a home theatre system and a large fireplace. The walls were white, and decorated with old fashioned prints, and the carpet was a deep red. The room was brightly lit by the sun coming in through a large picture window on the right. There was another large window on the left. Beyond this room the house clearly spread out into two massive wings, but nothing of the rest of the house was visible from here, just a long wall with two doors in it.
“You might be more comfortable without your weapons,” Anita pointed out as we sat on one of the sofas.
“Yes, perhaps you’re right,” I agreed. This woman didn’t seem the violent type.
“There are lots of things I like to go off with a bang,” she stated, “but a gun is not one of them.”
I laid my magnum on the table, along with my Midnight Special. “What the hell,” I thought, and put down the knives and pepper spray as well.
“Oh, my! You must think I’m Jack the Ripper!” she exclaimed.
“You can never be too careful in my line of work,” I shrugged.
“And what line might that be?” she enquired.
“I’m a private di..detective,” I explained.
“A dick, hey,” she smiled. “I like dicks.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I said. “Not everyone likes us poking around in their private business.”
“Oh, there’s nothing better than a dick for poking around,” she purred, putting her hand on my knee. “I’m happy to expose my private business to you entirely.”
Now I was really sweating and flustered. “Now you’re flirting with me, Ms. Handwriting. I really must get down to business, but you’re making it very hard for me.”
“Oh, I can see that,” she said. “Here let me make you more comfortable.” With that she reached over and unzipped my fly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I just sat dazed, my head spinning, as she reached into my underpants and pulled my stiff cock out. She just left it there sticking up stiffly out of my pants and then went on chatting as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Now what was it that you wanted to question me about?”
By now I desperately wanted to fuck this woman, but I realised that this might be a ruse on her part, so I determined to continue with my line of enquiry.
“You may have heard that at least 35 men have disappeared on the island over the last 6 months,” I explained.
“Yes, I have heard people talking about it,” she admitted.
“Many of those men disappeared in the vicinity of your house,” I added.
“Now honey, do you really think that I’ve done some terrible thing to these men?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “but it is as if they had gone into a black hole.”
“You don’t mean my black hole, do you?” she chuckled, lifting one knee up onto the couch and letting her robe fall open to reveal the lips of her pussy, which hung open to display the pink flesh within. Curly black hairs decorated the area around, and creamy liquid dribbled from within onto the red silk beneath her enormous buttocks. “I’m a big lady, but I couldn’t fit 35 men in there.”
In that moment I stopped caring about what happened to the missing men.
“Maybe I better search you anyway,” I suggested, entering into Anita’s naughty game with a grin and a wink.
“I thought you’d never ask,” smiled Anita, standing up and dropping her robe to the carpet.
“Oh, my God!” I grunted. I just wanted to lose myself in her massive breasts, her big round belly...and, as I moved around behind her, her enormous ass. She was like a tidal wave of erotic flesh, and I wanted to drown in her.
“Let’s see this bod of yours,” she said, pulling down my jeans like someone excitedly opening a birthday present. “A bullet proof vest,” she added as she divested me of it. “I’m a lover not a fighter, dick boy!”
“My name’s Bertie,” I pointed out.
“Bertie, I like that. It’s cute,” she said. “Just like that cute tight ass of yours. I’m going to have to spank you later for being so cute. But for now let’s baste that boner of yours in pussy juice.”
I didn’t need to be asked twice. Anita lay down on the sofa with her legs spread and I climbed aboard, shivering with horny ecstasy as my cock slid smoothly into her juicy warm hole. I was writhing happily feeling all of the front of my body embraced by her soft wobbly flesh. Fucking Anita was like fucking on a water bed only you didn’t need the water bed.
“Anita loves her new fuckboy,” she sighed as she looked me in the eyes. I moved in close and our lips met and opened, our tongues beginning a wet tango and she grabbed my ass with both hands forcing my cock as far as it could go into her slippery pussy. I could feel her juices dripping over my balls. Clearly this was no sudden whim on her part. She must have been seriously aroused when I knocked on the door. Perhaps I’d interrupted her in the middle of masturbating. Whatever the reason, it was my lucky day. I knew I had a mystery to solve, but noone can concentrate when they’re horny, so my first priority had to be getting off.
“Damn, you’re not bad at this!” exclaimed Anita. “You know how to pound a pussy like it ne-e-e-eeds to be pounded. I might have to hire you myself. You can probe my mysteries on a regular basis.”
“I could fornicate with you forever, you fat, fabulous, filthy fuck fiend!” I cried. Nothing brings on the alliteration like feeling the jissom building in my balls and knowing that my cock is about to be the spurting champagne bottle at a pussy party.
“Don’t hold back,” she panted as I continued to slap my sweaty torso against the jiggling mound of her belly. “Get the first cum out of the way, and then you can relax a bit on the second fuck.”
“Oh, God!” I cried as my hot seed shot deep into Anita’s hungry depths, my whole body quaking and spasming as if live with an electric charge.
“Now that’s the civilised way for two people to get to know each other,” smiled Anita.
“Well, I’m certainly glad I came,” I replied, resting my head the soft pillow of her left breast. “To the house, I mean, not...um...”
“You’re not glad you came in Neeta’s pussy?” she queried, raising her eyebrow like an interrogating head mistress.
“Well, that too...I mean, it was fantastic... How could it not...” I stuttered.
“Well, honey,” said Anita, “if you can’t wrap you mouth around your words, wrap it around my titty.”
I sucked contentedly on her proffered nipple while I planned my next move. Oh, who am I kidding. I didn’t have another move. I lost my spunk when I lost my spunk.
“I have a confession to make,” Anita purred, as she stroked the hair on my head. “Those missing men are here in my house, only there are 57 of them altogether.”
“What?” I said, jumping to my feet.
“But I haven’t done anything wrong you know,” she assured me. “They’re all here because they want to be here.”
“How do 57 men just suddenly decide they want to live in a rich lady’s house, leaving their families and not informing their work of where they have disappeared to?” I asked, incredulously.
“Well, I suppose I made them an offer that was too good to refuse,” she replied. “It is true that I took away all of their clothes, just so that they wouldn’t make a rash attempt to spoil the whole set up just because of some momentary twinge of guilt. But not one man has ever asked me to let him go.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do?” I wanted to know. “I really like you, but I’m going to have to let people know where their family members and employees have disappeared to.”
“Here is what I propose...” Anita began. She had made no attempt to cover herself and was standing before me completely naked with her hands on her hips. “I’ll take you through that door, introduce you to the other guys and explain how we live here. If you decide not to stay, then we all give it up as one of those wonderful things which can’t go on forever.”
“I suppose that’s a fair arrangement,” I said, feeling dazed as I went to gather up my clothes.
“Oh, no!” said Anita, snatching them away. “Nobody wears any clothes behind the blue door. Except for me. I have to wear an apron when I cook. The only way I want to get fat on me is by eating,” she chuckled, nudging me. “I’m a good cook you know. But that is only one of the things that makes my guests think that they’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Anita slowly turned the brass knob and pulled open the blue door.
To be continued...