Bargain Basement Magic Lamp
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Bargain CuntChapter 3 free porn video
The costumed Shapes successfully polished the moves Clare had choreographed and Cyril enjoyed the four gyrating and posing bodies. He steadied himself to peep through the gap in the door, frightened of his old age betraying his presence by knocking the vertical pine door planks. Suze’s knockers were prime choice of the four, but Helen’s rotund, mother of four, flabby curves were as good to watch. The costume briefs slung purposely low, such was the design, emphasising the two fat rolls Helen carried, augmented by more that were starting high on her sides. The lower one protruded over the top of her briefs, matching the fat on her upper thighs below the briefs. So many times had she been told, by the Shapes and their followers, that her figure was the ideal for the type of dance the Shapes specialised in. Turkish and Arabic men clamoured for stills of her posted on the Shapes website, photos taken by Glenis and agreed between the group. Clare didn’t say, keeping to herself, the number of requests she got as webmaster for videos of the group, Helen – and Suze, but none were available.
Dance rehearsal finished and the four started to change clothing. Cyril wished he had brought a camera, but his addled old brain wasn’t working up to full speed these days. The view was fucking good anyway and he would definitely try this again. The first to get naked was – of course Suze and luckily she was changing near the cupboard. The sway, sag, bounce and tremor of her tits was wonderful to watch, but then Helen took her bra off. He was surprised that such a large woman had mere little saggy paps. She slung on a plain, white, unstructured brassiere which did nothing to lift and separate, but her tits were wide apart anyway and looked like they didn’t know each other.
Suze was stepping into pair of black, lace panel, briefs, but before they were fully wriggled into, he was again amazed that she had no pubic hair. She had a lovely pussy pouch and because he was upon a chair and Suze’s glossy black body was close he didn’t get a chance to see her quim – but those boobs! How much he loved and enjoyed slim young Glenis’ body, didn’t stop him from ogling tits. Sunitra and Clare were talking on the other side of the room with their backs to him. Sunitra had started to take her costume briefs down and halted while they discussed some papers, so the top two inches of her bum crack was a dark slot, until they both bent forward as Clare rummaged in her briefcase. She had removed her briefs and Cyril saw her trim, shapely butt. The brown girl’s curvy bum, bloomed further over her briefs, then Clare bent double, her athletic legs straight. She moved to hold the bag and opened her legs and Cyril had a first class rear view of her fanny and to add to the spicy scene, her arsehole was totally exposed.
At that time Suze turned and saw it too and thought if only Clare’s precious pupils could see her then, how they would snigger at the bossy, prissy school marm in all her naked glory. Clare was so trim and toned compared to her colleagues, there was no spare flesh to remain closed over her crack. He wished he could see it nearer but was happy. In their younger days, he and Sybil, his poor bedridden wife and especially her, had loved anal sex. They had managed to source strap-ons so she could give him one in return.
Their discussion over, Clare and Sunitra both turned to continue dressing. Again a bald cunt, but this time Cyril could just about see Clare’s pussy lips which were protruding. Everyone was distracted by the door to the corridor, being knocked on then tentatively opening and he missed seeing the brown girl’s cunt, but hearing the comments, he was further delighted by the arrival of ladies from the choir. They had finished their practice and now the seven who had changed in the room previously needed the space again. Five of them decided it was too crowded but Felicity, his favourite shopkeeper and Dawn Softley, a local GP stayed. Without ado, they took off the white, black trimmed, official choir blouses and suddenly old Cyril had a cornucopia of shapes and sizes to feast on. He wobbled on the chair with excitement.
The prize was Felicity his local shop keeper, seeing someone he knew quite well, glimpses of her cleavage and swollen bosoms under her upper clothing while serving him. She was being swift in changing her top, but he realised she was actually tied up in a cream coloured corset. Her fleshy torso quivered as she lined up a blouse and dragged it on and buttoned it. Dawn for a doctor was very fat if not obese. Her boobs were soft and small and in a minimal brassiere, they sort of rested happily on her stomach which bellowed, rather than bellied out, exerting oodles of strain on her skirt waist band. She was tall too, sharp hawk like face, with stringy, lank, mousey hair and she had no ankle shapes on straight thick legs. Her final act to thrill Cyril, who was easily pleased with any thing related to female under garments, was to hitch her loose skirt up and straighten, then pull tighter her pale tan stockings. The welt of them, clipped to black suspenders was no more than six inches above her knees.
Sunitra, Helen, Suze and the choir ladies left together, leaving Clare, now fully clothed and leafing through some papers, who was then joined by the remaining choir members. Cyril ignored Joan Olds, Marion Sullivan who was very dark coloured and a bitter sour faced Hilary Cutler, who were all bony, skinny and wore bras which were all enveloping, which betrayed no shape, jiggle, wobble or shiver of tit. A very short, silver haired lady who was as wide as she was tall, made Cyril gasp when she removed her choir shirt to amazingly see no underclothes whatsoever. Her stubby, dark brown nipples were low on her small bosoms and pointed at the floor. She wrestled with an olive green toned fleece and then she joined the others as Clare fussed around, making sure the room she had negotiated free use of was as tidy as found.
Monday
Ming Ling was reading a magazine in the surgery waiting room when the display board pinged and and her name popped up requiring her to attend room 3 for Doctor Softley. Ming got up and entered the corridor for various marked consulting rooms, but halted briefly to clench and unclench her buttocks and wriggle at the same time, trying to disturb her knickers which had ridden up and were trapped in the mass of labia she was both blessed and tortured with. In desperation she hooked her black painted finger nails in the front of her skirt against her crotch and nearly managed, but quickly ceasing as a pretty black nurse appeared and marched officiously, without a smile, past. Ming knocked and entered room 3 and breathed a sigh of relief, seeing a broadly grinning Dawn perched in her chair.
“Trouble down below again Ming?” the obese surgeon chuckled. “No ... what ... why do you say that Dawn ... Oh I see, that’s sneaky and new,” Ming laughed when Dawn swivelled a monitor on her desk, which showed a live CCTV feed of the very corridor Ming had fiddled with her clothing in and the same nurse marching through and disappearing into another corridor. “We’ve had some dodgy so called delivery drivers in so we’ve installed that system,” said Dawn, swivelling the monitor clicking and finding Ming’s case history. “What were you doing? Looked a bit naughty.” “Course not, me knickers caught up in me what’s it, you know how messy it all is,” snickered Ming, a natural Oriental, who was a quick, intelligent learner and had adopted English vernacular – when needed for a laugh. “Oh your beautiful fanny yeah...” Ming frowned, not agreeing but she was stuck with what she had. “OK what brings you here?” asked Dawn who knew Ming very very well, both being members of a botanists club and exceedingly close friends. Dawn Softley’s speciality was nurturing spectacular Red Hot Pokers, technically known as Kniphofia Nobilis and handling their firm upright blooms. Ming - for her part, attemped to create scents and perfumes from exotic species for many, diverse, sometimes taboo reasons. They had formed a friendship through Ming’s naughty Dachshund - Corky, sniffing up Dawn’s skirt when the massively overweight doctor bent over to sniff some of Dawn’s floral display in the Ling garden. Ming had been in the kitchen preparing tea and cakes and halted on her way out, seeing Corky – or not seeing Corky, as most of his body was inside Dawn’s skirt and she was bent over for some considerable time, supporting her 18 stone frame on a garden fork.
Ming had approached slowly and silently, seeing a kindred spirit, puzzled as to how she would break the ice. She had opened with ‘I love what he does too’ with Dawn nearly ending up flattening half the shrubbery in shock. After the initial false excuses and embarrassment from both of them, being strong single women in their fifties, they had ended up giggling, comparing notes and Corky being let loose on two ultra hot and juicy mature pussies laying side by side on the lawn vying for his attention.
In the surgery room Ming confided her problem. “It’s getting sore again, you know how it is...” gesturing at her crotch. “All those flaps...” Then in a subdued tone, “Corky’s tongue can rasp a bit you know.” receiving a knowing smile and nod. “I’ve got no more of that ointment.” “No prob Ming. It’s restricted, you know for vets, but I have my sources, I’ll have some here tomorrow. Just keep the little bugger away from it, and you keep away from his cock,” she grinned, nodding at Ming’s crotch. “Know what I mean. I’ll bring it round for you yeah?” Dawn suggested with a broad wink.
Ming agreed. Their mutual desires were heightened and their vaginas were moist, by the conversation and the promise of what tomorrow could bring, with glances and giggling nods at the examination table with Ming reaching behind to start downing her zip, when Dawn’s phone rang. She took the call. Her brows furrowed, her mouth set, scribbling notes and checking case notes on her screen. The phone was racked. “Sorry Ming, emergency at the hospital, got to go. See ya tomorrow after surgery hours OK?” “Yeah great ... and Dawn ... wear your stockings.”
Tuesday
“Going to visit Maurice today?” asked Sandra, getting affirmatives from her husband and daughter, at breakfast. “OK I can handle the pubs.” “Expect we’ll be back by lunchtime darling,” said Dick, reading The Times. “I’ll call and meet up with you somewhere.” Sunitra went to the toilet, Dick as usual appreciating the glimpses of her brown buttocks below her tee(night) shirt, noticing for once that she had a pair of white briefs on. Sniffy raised his head from his rug as she wafted by. She went to the downstairs cloakroom and sat lowering the undergarment, peering at the warm creased cotton. She removed it and lifted it into the light through the frosted window. She scraped a nail over the gusset, examined and smelled her finger then wiped that on the undies. Good she thought, periods finished, perfect for my plans. She stood and bent her knees and fished inside her minge, feeling for something, frowning and then felt the coiled string and pulled out a clean, damp tampon. That was dumped into the proper bin and she continued her ablutions, then dressed in her shortest mini skirt, a white one which high lighted her smooth dark brown bare legs shod in white stilettos. Miss Power matched it with a black tight vee neck top and adding gold ear rings, gold necklace and bangles.
Dad and daughter left and Sandra tidied up and got herself tarted up to attend the now four pubs in the Power empire. The door chimes chimed and she answered – it was Glenis asking for Sunitra or Dick knowing where they were. “Sorry luv, they’re both out and I’m getting ready to, as you can see,” she chuckled, holding her light frilly dressing gown, close to her crotch as the slight breeze was exposing her pasty thighs. “Oh bugger,”exclaimed Glenis. “You know I adjusted Dick’s computer the other day. I just need to add a further tweak,” she brandished a small black gadget, which was nothing to do with computers but looked like it did, and Sandra did. “It’d be dead easy, oh well never mind,” she started to turn back to her Smart car. “If it’s dead easy, come in and do it, no prob,” smiled Mrs Power, standing inside and beckoning.
A very buoyant Glenis – the plan working, thanked her and stepped in, proceeding to Dick’s office. The next stage was to get to her hidden cameras and retrieve them. She heard Sandra go through to the kitchen and with Alyona, the cleaner, they went out to the patio, so she swiftly rushed to the bedroom, into Dick’s dressing room and pocketed the mini cameras – obviously delighted and very relieved they were still where she’d hidden them. She got back to the office, timed neatly to coincide with Sandra’s puffing ascent up the stairs, telling the mistress of the house, it was done and she’d let herself out.
Dick and Sunitra arrived at Maurice’s mock Georgian new build four bedroom house in a quiet road, and having knocked on the door to be greeted with a ferocious barking inside from Bond. Maurice opened, welcomed them in as the hound transformed from guard dog to friendly after his owner’s commands. Coffee was offered and accepted while Sunitra fussed over the magnificent creature. “She’s good with dogs isn’t she?” grinned Maurice. “Oh yeah, loves ‘em, we’ve got Sniffy at home and they dote on each other, don’t you darling/” chuckled Dick, leaning and patting the big animal’s belly. Sunitra had got Bond rolled on his back, forelegs pawing happily as she stroked his golden, soft warm fur as she eyed his exposed sheath. “Oh yes Dad,” she breathed, let me have his cock.
“Did you get the stuff she’s keen on from er ... Sarah, your daughter?” asked Dick. “Yeah got it here and more,” he gestured, with a winking smile out of the room. “I’ll get Nooda to clear this stuff while I get it.” Still charming, well dressed, in a blue and white check shirt under a tan open waistcoat, the elderly, balding man with grey whiskers and dark rimmed tinted specs, and tidy jeans disappeared, and to take his place was a very wobbly fat, big jawed, beady eyed, black haired, mature woman dressed in an ethnic, black patterned long, dress and a purple shawl round her shoulders. Dick and his daughter greeted her, getting a hardly responsive nod and grunt as the coffee filter and cups were cleared. They guessed this was Maurice’s Syrian house lady.
He returned with the goods – not just the dressing table set which sparked off the contact, but also old jewellery and some clothing, which Sunitra immediately spotted as expensive designer items. He displayed them rather too grandly, but that was his way, on a mahogany coffee table. There followed a lot of discussion, Sunitra omitting the clothing – not her style, too county country posh and too small for her mum, but interested in some of the antique baubles. Dick’s phone warbled. He glanced at it, frowned and justified his exit back to the car to check something, Sunitra and Maurice haggled, she was offering £70 against his starter of £140 as per the car boot sale days ago. “Sarah really doesn’t want t lose much on it, if any,” he told her. More haggling now including a couple of gold trinkets, until at one point when they were bending over the items, his hand brushed her bum. She noticed he didn’t apologise or withdraw his hand and was quite taken in by not only his charm but the wafts of his cologne. Hmm! expensive she thought. She shifted her stance to reach an examine a piece and purposely nudged her butt against his hand getting glance that wasn’t sure. “Sorry Maurice didn’t mean to crowd you,” she simpered. “Don’t worry, when it’s a lovely girl like you I don’t mind being crowded – in fact it’s rather nice and doesn’t often happen these days and it it did I’d probably be done for molesting,” he snickered. “Surely you’ve got many admirers and girlfriends,” she suggested. “Maybe and maybe not, but no one as attractive as you,” Maurice gushed. Sunitra was taken and damn near swooned. This sort of chat just didn’t happen these days and from a handsome, wealthy and yes – old - handsome man, it could be expected but unusual. She stood and swivelled to front him. “I want Sarah’s stuff. You want me. Do you want to do a deal?” she sighed, stepping close.
Dick interrupted them, not noticing the intimacy that was building, because they’d heard him entering the house again and moved apart, exchanging meaningful, smouldering glances. He announced he would have to leave – now. They changed arrangements, Maurice would drive her home or wherever and he left, without his now hot twatted randy brown girl ready to deal.
“You can shag me Maurice in return for those trinkets – but ... my price is now £35,” she murmured, feeling his crotch and not getting a great reaction down there. “You are a hard nut Sunitra, That’s not a good deal at all, but I will give you my best bestest lowest offer and it’s my last word.” They stared at each other, eyes fixed, his tongue licking his lower lip, her tongue fixed between two lush lips. She glanced at his not bulging flies, he fixed on her hips, not seeing a panty line. She challenged Maurice and they agreed, both being well satisfied. It was agreed they would retire to the leisure complex across the patio, although linked by a corridor, which was where Nooda was currently working. Bond trotted with them as they agreed terms. They entered the complex and while Maurice locked the corridor connection and pushed switches that smoothly closed a series of vertical blinds that shut off any views from outside. Sunitra fussed and petted an even more excited Golden Retriever as Maurice gathered lounger cushions and placed two side by side, creating a large double bed.
“That should do nicely Sunitra, a sort of bed,” Maurice suggested, adoring the sight of her bronze, bare bum cheeks as she bent and fussed, persuading Bond onto the bed. “Yes gorgeous and the pool looks inviting later,” she agreed. “No problems with Nooda you think?” “Nooda? Problems? No way. She is under instructions at all times not to come in here, elf and safety reasons heh heh,” he replied. “I mean if she was alone in the place and fell, not only would she empty the water out, being so fat...” he giggled. “She can’t swim so...” he gestured with his hands open and turned out. “I’ll tell you about her later, amazing – filthy,” he left it at that.
Intrigued but anxious to get what she came for Sunitra, and desperate to find a way to extract Bond to some where private, she started to undo Maurice’s belt. “So what exactly is your best bestest deal Maury?” she asked, using her Dad’s version of his name. He stepped back. “I have noticed your bond with Bond,” he giggled. “I have watched you with him and you have touched him up several times, like you did me earlier – you know...” he cupped her cunt. Sunitra closed enjoying the contact and fiddled not without difficulty, her very tight skirt up over her hips. His hand drew away, causing her to frown. “Would it be Bond you want ... you know – to fuck ... rather than me?” he winked knowingly. “Fuc ... Maurice ... how did – I mean have you known ... er like realised?” she stammered, amazed at his direct and very personal question. “You fuck dogs Sunitra. You’re very like dear Bunty – my wife,” he answered her puzzled expression. “ All the love for them ... and you can’t keep your hands off their cocks can you?”
The brown daughter of a brown father and white mother didn’t know how to reply, such was the fact that her bestial secrets were now exposed beyond her immediate family. The troubles they had gone to, to hide their so-called taboo activities ... She resolved not to disclose the Power family’s addiction. She shook her head, genuinely ashamed in front of such an elegant, wealthy and charming man – and how would her dad react if it ever came out. Maurice gently raised her chin with his forefinger, his eyes smiling, his sympathetic caring expression obvious.
“Don’t worry Sunitra, it’s fine, I’m not shocked in the slightest and it’s never going to go beyond these walls. You OK?” he kissed the top of her head. She nodded and embraced him, daring the lurking tears to show themselves. He explained more about Bunty, who apparently had an insatiable appetite for sex in ways he didn’t know about, which settled her somewhat, Bond lying on the makeshift bed.
Makenna
- 26.06.2021
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