Anita the Collector - Part 2 (+ Big Women Pics & Videos)

For the first part of this story, go here.

Anita the Collector - Part 2

As I walked through the door, Anita pinched my butt.

“Mmmmmmmmm. Another lamb to the slaughter,” she smiled, her voice quivering with anticipation of future delights.

The first thing I saw when I entered the massive room behind the door was a 70 inch plasma television screen filled with the image of a woman’s lips sliding up and down on a man’s cock. Two naked men were sitting on a sofa watching the movie. Each had a can of beer in one hand and his own cock in the other.

“I love to see a guy jacking off,” sighed Anita, watching with a Cheshire Cat grin as the pair stroked their stiff cocks.

“Nice television,” I said.

“Yes,” she replied. “And we have an extensive library of porn. Just let me know if we don’t have a title you want and I’ll order it in.”

“So the mail still gets delivered to the house?” I asked.

“Oh, yes,” she informed me. “The post office stopped sending mailmen after three failed to return. But now they send women. Some of the guys tried to persuade me to invite them in, but I’m not running a charity, I’m running a man harem.”

I looked around the room. There were naked guys everywhere. A couple were riding exercise bikes. Two where playing ping pong. Another pair were shooting pool. Some where reading. Many were drinking and there were snacks laid out on the tables.

Anita walked over to the couch. The two guys moved further apart and she sat between them.

“Good movie?” she asked.

“Not bad,” said the guy on the right.

Anita reached out and knocked the guys hands off of their cocks and replaced them with her own.

“Oh, Anita, you’re the best,” sighed the guy on the left.

“They love it when I wank them off,” she chuckled. “And I love it when I wank them off too. Nothing like the feel of a stiff hot cock in my fist, and its so delicious when the cum shoots out and runs down my fingers.”

The two guys lost interest in what was going on on the screen. Each leaned down and took one of Anita’s nipples in his mouth and began to suck on it hungrily.

“Ain’t anybody gonna suck my pussy?” she enquired.

A muscly dude, who had been lifting weights, put them down, walked over to the couch and dropped down between Anita’s spread thighs, burrowing his face under her big belly and began slurping away noisily.

“Oh, my. Ain’t life grand?” asked Anita, rhetorically. “Feel free to explore. I’ll rejoin you as soon as we’ve all cum.”

I entered another smaller lounge room where  a bunch of guys were watching a football match on another large television.

Then there was a shower room much like that in a sporting facility - just a huge tiled room with showerheads sprouting from the walls.

I walked back through the main lounge to explore the other side of the complex. The muscleman was no longer licking Anita’s pussy. Now he was standing up and she was sucking his cock.

As I walked past the two guys on either side grunted simulateously as a fountain of jism spurted out of each of their cocks, splattering their chest and belly and running down over Anita’s hands.

As I walked into the massive kitchen and dining area, complete with long tressel tables, Anita came up behind me. She was smearing cum from her hands all over her massive breasts.

“I don’t like them to cum in my mouth,” she informed me, “but it’s good for the skin.”

“So what’s the secret?” I asked her.

“The secret?”

“Why do the guys stay here?”

“I would have thought that was obvious,” she replied.

“Apart from your charm,” I chided her.

“They have everything they want,” she explained. “They don’t have to work. They can drink. Wack off to porn. The food’s good. And they can fuck me whenever they want. Well, almost whenever they want. Sometimes there is a queue.”

“And that’s enough to cut off contact with family and friends?” I wanted to know.

“How many people get on with their family?” she countered. “And if they miss their male friends, they just invite them to join.”

“What about wives and girlfriends?” I asked.

“Modesty forbids that I make any comments about choosing between myself and any other woman,” she demured.

She showed me all of the exotic food ingredients stored in her pantry.

“Once again, the shops will deliver, but no more of those cute pimply delivery boys. Just the women now,” she explained.

Next we entered the bedroom, perhaps the most unusual room in the house.

“This is an invention of my own,” Anita pointed out. “I call it the musical bed.”

She was pointing at a massive bed shaped like a life preserver but approximately 30 feet in diameter. At one point there was an indentation about two feet deep and four feet across.

“It plays music?” I queried.

“No,” she replied. “I call it a musical bed because of that saying that people who sleep around are playing ‘musical beds’. The way it works is that I lay here.” She pointed at the indentation. And eleven men lay around the rest of the matress. When I want some lovin’, I pull the guy on the right on top of me. Then, when he cums, everyone rolls along one space and he rolls off, being replaced by the next guy on the right. And so everyone keeps moving until the first guy is back again, by which time he’s rested enough to be ready to fuck me again. And we keep going until I fall asleep.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed.

“I can be a restless sleeper though,” Anita admitted. “So if I wake up in the middle of the night feeling horny, I just pull on the first guy’s cock and start the process all over again.”

Then she showed me around the backyard where there was a huge swimming pool. Another fifteen guys were swimming or sunning themselves by the side of the pool.

“Ah, here are Craig and Gareth,” she said, pointing to two very pale youths, one skinny and the other rotund, who were sitting on the edge of the pool. “They’re my Mormons. I’ll leave you to have a chat with them while I go make a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”

“Sure,” I replied, and watched Anita’s huge bum wobble deliciously back into the house.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Gareth asked, looking me up and down.

“Yes. Just arrived. So why did you two stay here?” I wanted to know. I sat down beside them and splashed my feet in the cool water of the pool.

“Well, you know that parable about the mustard seed?” responded Craig.

“I think I remember it,” I said.

“We went from door to door trying to persuade people of the wisdom of loving their fellow man,” he explained. “But most people just didn’t want to know. Then we knocked on Miss Anita’s door and we found someone who really does love her fellow man.”

“She sure does,” agreed Gareth. “So we decided it made more sense to support her efforts to make the world a better place, than to keep pestering people and, thereby, making it a worse place.”

“And you’ve never had any doubts?” I queried. “Never even considered leaving?”

“No,” he replied.

“The church repossessed our bikes,” added Craig.

“And Anita destroyed our clothes,” Gareth put in.

“Only to liberate thus though.”

“Yeah, only to liberate us.”

“Those two aren’t telling tales about me, are they?” queried Anita, as she returned with the coffees.

“To believe these fellows, you are a veritable saint,” I told her.

“St. Anita of the Holy Handjob perhaps?” she chuckled. “Hey you boys need to keep putting on that sunscreen. You’ll be red as lobsters by the end of the day otherwise. And don’t forget your cocks.”

“Why don’t you do us?” asked Gareth.

“Of course,” replied Anita, squeezing out the sunscreen and smearing it over the lads’ chests and backs. “But you know my favourite way of coating your cocks, don’t you?”

“You bet,” cried Craig enthusiastically.

Anita stood up and turned around. Then she bent over and shoved the mouth of the suncreen container up her arse and squeezed hard. When she pulled it out there was white creamy liquid dripping down her  legs.

“Who’s going to be first?” she asked, spreading her butt cheeks wide apart.

“Me! Me!” cried Gareth, pushing Craig out of the way. Both of their cocks were rock hard. As was mine.

Gareth leapt forward and with an ecstatic sigh sank his prick deep into Anita’s sunscreen-filled arsehole.

“MMMmmmm,” sighed Anita. “Nothing says ‘love’ like a penis poking your poop chute.”

Gareth reached around and played with Anita’s clit as he slapped his thighs against her massive arse.

“Give the other guys a chance,” she said. “We don’t want anyone getting a sunburnt willy.”

So Gareth stepped aside and Craig slid his stiff prick home. Meanwhile Gareth grabbed his own slippery cock and wanked off until he spurted his cream over Anita’s thigh.

“All my boy’s love to wank,” giggled Anita, as Craig continued to fuck her butt.

Then it was my turn. Craig stepped aside and I felt the warm flesh of her wet slippery butthole close around my rock hard length.

“Come on Dirty Bert!” cried Anita. “I want to feel you spurt!”

Craig and I came simultaneously. He over Anita’s belly and me up her bum.

Just then there was a ring on the doorbell.

“That’ll be the new maid,” Anita informed me, as she wiped off the residue of our lust.

I followed her back into the house.

To be continued...

Boneriffic Burlesque Babes - No. 1 - Poppy Cherry

Poppy Cherry is a Melbourne burlesque dancer who also has a pasty-making business. And she's a movie star having played a character described as "a ‘chuckie doll’ played by a hot brunette with a corset and over-the-knee socks" in the more interesting and entertaining looking movie called Burlesque to come out in 2010. (Forget about that thing with Cher and Christina Aguillera. It looks like shit.)

Poppy's website

Big Women with Big Appetites

Big Lusty Women of Comic Cinema

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...