Anna s Annals 1 Mutual Masturbations
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The Remaking Of Anna Plowright free porn video
Prologue
Anna Plowright trudged grimly along the country lane towards her cottage still two kilometres distant. She was soaked to the skin. The rain bucketed down and reduced her hair to a stringy ruin, and found every available gap in her clothing to trickle down her back and between her breasts.
When she had set out that morning for her daily ten-kilometre walk with the dog, the sun had been shining, the skies clear. Then apparently from out of nowhere clouds began to rapidly pile up, and down came the drenching rain. She had now walked four kilometres in the downpour.
The dog paid no heed to the watery environment and continued to race hither and thither in search of it knew not what. Anna, unlike the dog, was not happy. She splashed on cursing herself for not bringing an umbrella or waterproof coat and hat.
Rescue.
From behind Anna heard an approaching vehicle. There were only two residences along the lane, hers and the Seymour’s place. She was not expecting anyone, so conjectured that it must be one of the Seymours or someone visiting them. An old utility truck passed her and pulled up. As she drew level with it a voice called out through the open window, ‘Like a lift, Mrs.Plowright?’
Anna observed that it was young Blake Seymour, a fairly recent arrival in the district. She readily assented to the lift, and heaving the dog into the back of the utility, she got in beside Blake.
They swished off along the lane and within a minute or two reached her cottage. The vehicle stopped, and Anna said to Blake, ‘I’d like to ask you in for a cup of tea or coffee, but I’m in such a mess I think we had better make it some other time.’ Blake smiled and said, ‘I’ll keep you to that.’ Anna alighted, hauled the dog out of the back of the vehicle, and ran for the cottage door.
A Little Anna History.
Anna at the time of the downpour was fifty years old. She had been widowed twice and deserted by a lover once.
The lover whom she had met while at university had managed to get another girl pregnant at a drunken party, and being a gentleman, had deserted Anna and married the pregnant one.
Anna was distraught at this desertion. Despite the fact that she could have had the choice of many ardent young men, she deserted love and sex, and fell back on the teachings of her parents on the subject of security and safety, and married Mr.Bunting, an accountant and twenty years her senior. Mr.Bunting was amazed at his good fortune. Anna was young, tall, with dark blonde hair, brown eyes, and a figure of such excellence that, if she had been facially unattractive, no full blooded male would have noticed. As it happens, she was not facially unattractive, so she could be classified as one of those women that ‘had it all.’
Mr.Bunting made certain his luck would continue by making sure Anna did indeed feel secure. I do not suggest that the marriage was the most passionate of unions, but Anna was happy and contented enough, until Mr.Bunting died at age fifty of a heart ailment.
Anna’s security continued because Mr.Bunting left her very comfortably off financially. She also had continued a very attractive woman, her looks enhanced by maturity.
During the wind up of Mr.Bunting’s accountancy affairs, she chanced to meet Mr.Plowright, one of Mr.Bunting’s clients. Mr.Plowright was an orchardist in the nearby hills and only fifteen years Anna’s senior. He owned an extensive property on which he grew a wide variety of fruit and profited well from his endeavors.
He courted and won the hand of Anna, and they married some fourteen months after Mr.Bunting’s demise. He was a little more passionate than Mr.Bunting, but also a little more careless. Five years after their marriage, Mr.Plowright drove his tractor onto a hillside he knew he should not be attempting. The tractor rolled over crushing Mr.Plowright and thus ending his earthly life.
In addition to this act of carelessness, Anna discovered that the ‘Silly old fool,’ as she came to call him, freed from the accountancy restraints of Mr.Bunting, had taken financial affairs into his own hands. However worthy an orchardist he might have been, he had made a thorough mess of financial matters. This included some disastrous investments. In short, when all things were taken into account, Anna was heavily in debt.
To meet this situation Anna had to sell the property except for a cottage that had been part of the orchard. She also retained one acre of land around the cottage. In addition, the security conscious Anna, had retained the investments left to her by Mr.Bunting, and once married to Mr.Plowright, she left them to accumulate. Thus with Mr.Plowright’s departure, she was not financially bereft. In fact, she was very comfortably off.
Having lost two husbands, Anna decided to call a halt to further marriages, although at thirty-eight she was still looking good. Some said she was at her best as far as looks were concerned, but sadly, as some people seem capable of doing, she shut up the sensual aspect of her nature.
She moved into the cottage, produced most of her own vegetables on the one acre, ran some chickens for eggs, and involved herself in church and charitable community affairs. This had been her lot for twelve years when she walked along the lane on the rainy day and was picked up by Blake.
Just a Little About Blake.
Blake Seymour was thirty the day he gave Anna a lift. He was the only son of Arthur and Sylvia Seymour who had bought the property from Anna.
At the time Anna moved into the cottage she was vaguely aware of a rather handsome teenager belonging to Arthur and Sylvia, but soon after he had disappeared from the scene. She was told that he had gone off to the State Agricultural College to study viticulture. He turned up at the Seymour’s home from time to time, but this made no particular impression on Anna.
Over the years she heard that he had gone overseas to gain experience in his chosen field, and had taken in South Africa, France and California.
Eventually he had returned to what was now called, ‘The Seymour Place,’ and was filled with enthusiasm for his specialty. He was quite correct in this because South Australia had long been a producer of good wines, and was on the verge of entering the world markets with some outstanding vintages.
He persuaded Arthur and Sylvia to turn part of the property over to the growing of grapevines, and they let him have his head. The results eventually proved more profitable than their previous crops, so more and more land was turned over to vines.
Anna Considers.
During the brief ride with Blake, Anna, despite her physical discomfort, was aware of the nearness of a rather handsome man. Upon leaving him, and in the process of drying herself and the dog, and changing her clothes, Anna gave thoughtful consideration to Blake.
It was odd that he was not married, and as far as she knew, had no female attachments. Not, of course, that she knew him very well. She had barely spoken to him since he had returned to the district, and as she had decided to leave men out of her life, she had not registered him properly as an attractive man.
At fifty, she in any case considered herself beyond the interest of men, especially young men like Blake. ‘Who would want an old bird like me,’ she thought, when she occasionally caught herself looking at some virile youth. In this respect she was like many of us, she expected nothing, and got nothing.
It came as a surprise, therefore, when two days after the ride with Blake, he drove a tractor up to her cottage with a trailer full of logs.
Anna left her vegetable garden and went to greet him, and he said, ‘I noticed you have a wood fire in the cottage. I’ve seen the smoke from your chimney. We’ve been taking out the apple trees down by the south fence, so I had the contractors cut them up as I thought you might like them for firewood. Just leave t
hem to dry out for next winter.’
Anna expressed her gratitude for his thoughtfulness, and was just about to invite him in for a cup of coffee when he said, ‘I’ll take you upon on that cup of coffee if that’s all right.’ Anna confirmed that it would certainly be all right.
Blake had never been inside the cottage, so he took an interest in what he saw. It was furnished and decorated in a rather nostalgic style, with chintz-covered chairs and sofa, and with horse brasses and copper utensils, all highly polished, scattered around the room on shelves. In one corner of the room, he saw a computer that looked oddly astray in its environment. It was one of Anna’s ‘Little indulgences.’
Over coffee Blake talked about his plans for the Seymour Place, which consisted mostly of the pulling out of more trees to be replaced with vines. Anna asked if eventually there might be overproduction. Blake said he foresaw a growth in the market for locally produced olive oil, so he might consider planting an olive grove. ‘Hmm, a far seeing young man,’ thought Anna, who was starting to become aware of Blake’s intelligence and, more dangerously, his charm.
It was this latter aspect of Blake’s personality that slightly alarmed Anna, as she felt herself beginning to be more interested in him than she thought she ought. Hence, when the conversation got around to her life she proved very reticent in giving close details. She kept it very general and focused on her garden and the many local committees she served on.
When Blake rose to leave Anna felt a twinge of regret, but as he announced that there was to be further tree removals, and he would bring her more firewood, she felt something give a little fluttering lift inside her.
Anna Takes a Step.
As good as his word, Blake returned a few days later with more wood. As they unloaded, he noticed that her back verandah needed a bit of work. Would she like him to fix it? That would be lovely, if he had the time. When he came back to fix the verandah he thought the window frames could do with a bit of paint, would she like…? And so it went. There always seemed to be yet another reason why he should ‘drop in.’
Ana told herself (many times), that it was just a young man being kind to an old lady, but in her deeper thoughts she hoped it was not true.
Like many people living on their own, and having no one to please or consider, Anna had let herself go somewhat. Her standard dress was a tweed skirt, shirt and cardigan. She did not bother about her hair, used no make up, and her hands bore all the signs of her digging and planting.
One day, after yet another visit from Blake, Anna, being weakened by his charming, and as she was now beginning to feel, his sensual presence, did something she had never to the best of her knowledge, done before. She took a personal inventory.
It should be understood that Blake had never made any suggestive remarks, and had always remained polite and friendly. The charm, which has been mentioned, was not some superficial, plastered on charm. It was the real him. He actually was as nice as he seemed.
Within her psyche, Anna was now getting deeply involved with Blake, but she took great pains not to show this. She continued to try to tell herself that she was ‘a silly old woman,’ but it did occur to her that she had not taken a good look at herself for some years. She determined to give herself a thorough examination.
Anna’s inventory took place in front of the long mirror in her bedroom. She stood before it naked, and tried to be objectively critical. Her once dark blonde hair was now almost completely grey. Her complexion was, as the result of so much time outdoors, what people call ‘healthy.’ Of facial lines there were few. Her breasts, untouched by childbearing and feeding, had not succumbed to the call of gravity. She turned sideways to observe that they still stood out firm and proud, with small nipples of the pink variety surrounded with darker pink aureoles.
Her stomach was flat, and a rather pleasant little carpet of pubic hair ran down to a firm cleft at the top of her legs. Of the legs themselves, one can only say they were long and strong. It was her hands that showed the ravages of ill usage most of all. The skin was rough, the nails broken.
She tried to get a view of her back, but having no auxiliary mirrors to aid her, she gave it up. She need not have worried. She had a fine straight back leading down to high, firm buttocks.
‘Hmm,’ thought Anna, ‘A man of sixty plus might think me worth a second look, but not one of thirty.’
With that thought Anna decided the chapter was closed. She would think no more in the night of handsome Blake. But Anna in this respect had an Achilles heel. That heel was the computer.
Now it might seem odd that a computer might lead to a dramatic change in a person’s self image, but in Anna’s case, it did. You see, Anna was the secret addict of a certain erotic web site. When viewing this site, she sought for stories involving loving relationships between young men and older women. She enjoyed them, but at the same time passed them off as fantasy until, one day, she watched an interview on television between a married couple with twenty years age difference between them. The man was the younger. The contentment, both physical and emotional between them, was clear. The thing Anna noticed most sharply, was that the lady obviously took great care of her appearance.
This set Anna of on yet another train of thought. ‘If I had my hair permed and nails attended to, that might help.’ She hunted through the telephone book for places that might suit her requirements. She wanted the best she could get, and finally settled for Maison Francois. ‘The advertisement makes it look very expensive, so it ought to be good,’ she thought.
Anna Gets the Treatment.
The appointment made, she drove to the city and arrived at Maison Francois. It was like no hairdressers she had ever seen before. The receptionist was a ravishing blonde who spoke as if she had a tea strainer where her larynx should be, referring to Anna as ‘Medem.’ The waiting area was a luxurious lounge in which girls who might have graced a model’s catwalk offered refreshments. They also referred to her as ‘Medem,’ except one girl who said ‘Midim.’
At the appointed hour Anna was ushered into a cubicle the size of a not so small room. Hairdressers she had previously attended were made up of chairs in open spaces where the customers exchanged gossip as they were attended to. Here all was private.
Within the cubicle, a young woman who introduced herself as Ahleese (her name was Alice) met her, and ‘Medem’ was requested to be seated in a magnificent chair, that seemed capable of being convoluted in any direction. This young lady was to search out the client’s requirements, and also, by carefully phrased questions, find out if there was any money to be made out of the victim.
She apparently decided that Anna was well heeled, and accordingly she announced, ‘I think Monsieur Francois will wish to attend to Medem personally.’ With that, she left the cubicle, leaving Anna to stare at her reflection in the mirror.
Msr.Francois entered with twittering flamboyance. He appeared to be about thirty- five years old, short and thin. He was dressed in pale blue shirt unbuttoned to the waist and pink slacks. In addition, he was festooned with necklaces, bracelets and rings.
Alice introduced ‘The Great Francois,’ and Francois kissed Anna’s hand. Francois spoke with a phony French accent, and after work he was known by the boys at the local pub by his real name, Sid Arbuckle, and in that environment spoke with a true Aussie accent. But within the walls of Maison Francois, he was ‘The Great Francois.’
Having greeted Anna he proceeded, ‘And how can my humble establishment be of service to Madame?’ Anna answered, ‘Well, I really came in for a perm.’
There was a stunned silence. Then Fran
cois, swelling with indignation, squeaked with righteous protest, ‘A perm? A perm! Madame, this is not a suburban hairdressers. Maison Francois is the house of female elegance. It is the place where the full beauty of womankind is drawn out from within the soul, to be revealed to the world. If Madame requires a perm (this latter said with all the contempt Francois could muster), she requires not the services of Francois.’
Anna was somewhat put out by this outburst and made as if to rise. Francois, seeing money was about to walk out the door, modified his approach. ‘But if Madame should put herself entirely in my hands, I can assure her she will exit from my establishment, the envy of her gender.’
‘Well, thought Anna, ‘I’ve got this far. I might as well see it through to the end. What do you suggest?’ She asked.
Francois stood in front of her. He stared. He twittered to her left side and stared. He twittered to her right side and stared. He took up a position behind her and ran his fingers through her hair. He tutted and sighed. He returned to her front and took up her hands. He gave a cry of despair. Finally he stood behind her again and addressed her in the mirror.
‘Madame, we have a situation most serious. I see before me many years of neglect. It will take much time and effort to restore Madame to the beauty that is hers by right.
Madame started to rise again, but Francois would not allow this. He pushed her down again, and went on: ‘Let me enumerate, Madame. You have hair most excellent, thick and strong. I perceive that Madame was, in former days, a dark blonde. Before Madame leaves today, this shall be restored to her.’
‘Madame’s skin has been roughened by exposure to the coarse elements. This too shall be amended today. Madame has most excellent bone structure and the tissues beneath are still sound. Her eyes are the finest brown which, with her blonde hair will present the most ravishing appearance, and, in future, Madame will allow her hair to grow until it flows down her beautiful neck to her shoulders.’
‘But now, Madame, we come to Madame’s hands. How is it possible that such exquisite hands have been treated with such contemptuous violence?’
‘I do a lot of gardening,’ replied Anna. Francois blenched. ‘Gardening, madame. Gardening?’ he squawked. ‘Madame, the very thought offends. From such cruelty you must desist.’ I can’t,’ said Anna, ‘I grow my own vegetables.’ ‘We shall speak later on this, ‘sighed Francois.
Now followed hair washing, drying and styling. Mud pack on the face, smelly dye through the hair, hand washing, cuticles shoved, nails cut and polished and finally a face in the mirror she did not recognise. It was a face fifteen years younger than the one she had brought into Maison Francois. It was a lovely face. A face to be contemplated and enjoyed.
To a self-satisfied Francois and a smug Alice who had attended her hands, Anna expressed her profound gratitude. She need not have bothered, because Francois knew he had her hooked. He gave his instructions.
‘For the next three weeks Madame will attend me once a week. Thereafter, she will attend me once a month. If Madame insists on violating her hands by gardening, she shall wear the most protective gloves. And now, if Madame will permit, I should like to draw Madame’s attention to her attire. It is not fitting that such a lovely face should be despoiled by clothing fit only for disposal to charitable institutions. I wish to recommend the establishment of a close friend of mine, The House of Jean-Paul. Should he choose to accept your custom, he will attire you in the utmost elegance. If Madame wishes, I shall communicate with him immediately, to discover whether an appointment can be made.
Anna, in a state of bewilderment and ecstacy at the vision of her new self, assented to Francois’ suggestion. Of course, Jean-Paul (his real name was Fred Higgs) was fully engaged, except that the wife of a prominent political figure had just cancelled an appointment because she had to fly abroad with her husband. How fortunate it was that the cancelled appointment just happened to fit in nicely with the time it would take Anna to get from Maison Francois to The House of Jean-Paul.
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