Chapter 1

“My that’s a pretty hat,” Col said pleasantly.

“It’s not a hat, it’s a bra,” lisped the little girl.

“Who is it Lana?” came the voice from inside.

“It’s a man Grandma,” shouted Lana.

“That’s a hat. You wear hats on your head,” persisted Col with a gentle smile. “It’s on your head ... er! Oh now I see.”

The young photographer grinned as he recognised the stitching, the straps and the peculiar shape of what he thought was a pink satin hat, the rest of which was hanging down the side of the cute little girl’s shoulder. It certainly fitted over her brown curls very well and with some spare. He heard noises inside and called out.

“Mrs McRory, it’s me Col Brownside from the magazine Shape Up.”

A large mature woman moved heavily through the hallway of the semi detached house, blocking the light from the open kitchen at the back. Bleached blonde hair just reaching to her shoulders framed a happy smiling face, set off by gentle eyes which in turn tended to distract from a large hooked nose. She blinked in the fierce sunlight behind him as her eyes registered on Col.

“Oh hello, I’m Shoran, Marianne’s Mum. She is late back but phoned minutes ago to tell you to wait – sorry,” said the fat woman. “Come in - mind Lana, let the gentleman get in.”

Col flashed his ID card and was allowed in to the front room, which was Bohemian in design and spirit. He put his bags down at the side and sat on a throw covered sofa opposite the window. Lana leaned against his knee, still wearing the huge brassiere as Shoran went to the kitchen and made the cup of tea she offered and he accepted. He placed his hand on Lana’s head and felt the smooth material of the hammock like underwear. Lana gazed at him with dark brooding eyes. He imagined the boobs that would be stored in the bra and thought about them being the size of the child’s head. He stared at the little girl. His gaze dipped from the grubby vest, to her lower torso which was encased in white panties, which hung creased and low below her little buttoned navel.

“And how old are you Lana?” he asked.

“Not telling,” came the reply as she remained close to him. “How old are you?”

“Very old,” he grinned.

The two smiled at each other but didn’t speak anymore. Col although professionally slightly embarrassed at the kid’s forward attitude. He shook his head in a weary way and tried to think of the job ahead and wondered how his pal Michael or Michelle as she prefers to be known would react. He dismissed the lurid thoughts and quietly waited with the child. She was just friendly without being precocious.

Shoran waddled back in with a tray and stood in front of the big bay window as he placed a table where she asked him to. Before Shoran placed the tray down, with the bright light behind her bulk he saw her silhouette through the thin material of her loose, flowing, dress. Huge fat thighs merged together, ripples of midriff flowed into one and her tits sagged over her belly. It did look like she wore no underwear. She bent and down her loose low neckline, he saw the massive outline of her tits slide forward and hang. Definitely no bra.

“Phew! It’s so hot. I can’t really stand this weather,” moaned Shoran, pouring the tea and giving him eyefuls down the front of her dress.

“Now then – musn’t complain,” Col chided her pleasantly.

Shoran smiled as he watched her tits swing about and he saw the flesh of her belly between them, confirming his doubts about her upper undies. He wouldn’t get a chance to check her lower portion he reckoned, although he would like to. Col liked huge women. Fat and with big bosoms were his thing. His current girlfriend Megan was thirty nine years old, fourteen years older than him and she was the magazine marketing manager. She tipped the scales at 250 pounds sporting a forty two F cup pair of bazongers. Shoran would be bigger than that and her extra maturity attracted Col. She wasn’t ugly – far from it and her infectious smile was a sure winner. He always wanted to shag a much older woman and Shoran would be ideal, but he dreamed as she broke his thoughts.

“Look at her. Isn’t she awful?” chuckled Shoran, pointing at Lana.

“No she’s cute. Nice coloured bra,” he added. “Not hers of course.”

Shoran giggled and shook her head.

“It’s one of Marianne’s old ones for the charity shop. Not sure they will accept it though - undies you know. I was ironing the stuff off the line when you came ... No - I mean her walking round half naked,” she added, nodding at the child realising his misunderstanding.

“Ah! I see. Well she’s entitled to in her own house. I do it all the time in my pad and my girlfriend does,” he told her. “She will stop soon enough though.”

“Oh I’m not sure. Marianne hardly wears anything herself and especially in the summer. Lana just copies her,” said Shoran. “I wish I could, but it’s not a pretty sight.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Col smiled.

Shoran glanced at him coyly but didn’t respond with a reaction. She changed the subject.

“My house is too exposed anyway.”

“Where is that?” Col asked.

“You’re not going to peep on me are you?” she screeched with mirth. “Oo! That would be naughty.”

“Weeelll!” Col drawled winking at her and kidding her, raising one eyebrow. “No - just interested.”

“Oh pity,” Shoran murmured very quietly, then louder. “It’s over the other side of Hamble, not far.”

“Views of the river?” Col asked.

“Yes, beautiful from the top shelf of the wardrobe, “she giggled. “But those sailors with their binoculars – you know,” she chuckled throatily.

Col nodded and sipped the tea. A car halted outside, Shoran peered behind her through the lace curtains as did Col and he could see a woman climb out.

“Here she is now. Not too bad,” Shoran glanced at her watch.

“I’ve got all afternoon now. Last appointment,” said Col.

“Good,” she murmured as they heard the front door open.

Lana flew out of the room and loud welcomes and greetings took place out of sight. A red haired young woman entered the room, grinning vivaciously. Wild frizzy styled locks cascaded lower than her shoulders. A green and black shirt hung loose outside a long flowing black skirt which reached down to brightly painted toenails peeping from open toed sandals.

“Hi I’m Marianne,” said the new arrival. “Mum made you welcome?”

“Hello – I am Col. Yes very much so. Got the tea and the chat,” Col answered as he stood and shook her warm, strong hand.

“Plenty of chat where Shoran is around,” chuckled Marianne. “Lovely mum to have don’t you think?”

“I’ll say so,” Col agreed eyeing up Marianne’s full flowing breast sway behind the shirt. “Hot enough for you?”

“Phew! Yeah, I love it – the heat and the freedom. Everyone’s that much happier yeah?” asked Marianne, sitting next to him on the sofa.

Lana played happily at her feet.

“Look at her with my old bra,” Marianne laughed. “Forty four F cup that is.”

“Wow!” exclaimed Col. “Looks a magnificent garment whatever the size.”

“Cost a packet. It’s satin. My skin you see. That’s all I can bear against it – apart from fresh air that is,” Marianne chuckled cheekily. “The material and the size. Not your average off the shelf item.”

“Yes I know, my girlfriend is a large girl,” he told them.

“Oh of course - Megan Parlour from the magazine yes?” said Marianne. “She called me the other day. Came to the house couple of weeks ago.”

Col nodded.

“I’m here for the pictures she asked for,” he added.

“Why not a female by the way? Photographer...” asked Shoran.

“Oh mum. It doesn’t matter. He is their staff photographer. Seen it all before I’ll bet. I don’t mind,” said Marianne pleasantly answering for him.

“This is my Daddy,” announced Lana brandishing a snapshot at Col.

“Where did you... ?” spluttered Marianne until she was interrupted by her mother.

“Been rummaging in my bag round there,” Shoran said, nodding round the side of the sofa. “Give it to me darling.”

Marianne by then had taken the snapshot and grimaced as Col peered over her shoulder at the family photo.

“Nice shot. Lovely looking family,” he told her.

“Not any more – now he’s effing gone,” she muttered. “Why have you got this in your bag Mum?”

“Don’t know, must have forgotten it, glad Lana found it” said Shoran obliquely. “I’ll dump it and get another of you two. Give it me.”

Marianne grimaced again and handed the snap to Shoran who rumbled up and grabbed her handbag, giving Col more tempting views down her front. She certainly was a big lady. She took the tray of cups and stuff outside, calling Lana to help her. Marianne waited until they left the room and spoke.

“She’s great is Mum. Helps a lot round here of course with Lana and allows me to get on with my job.”

“You’re in the car finance business aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah! But part time. Look - what shots do you want? I’m only asking as the boss has asked me to go in and do some data entry when I’m available and I could do with the cash,” she explained

“Thought I would go back in this afternoon while Mum is here.”

“Oh! The usual. Bit of a pose in your best street or office gear, your house wear and maybe a swimsuit or undies ... but that’s not essential,” Col added quickly.

“Hmm! I see. Well for a start I haven’t got a swimsuit – yet. Got loads of undies of course. Really enjoyed buying new stuff after those horrors,” Marianne giggled picking up the pink bra that Lana had left behind. “OK lets get on with it. Let me slip into my best gear as you call it and I’ll give you a shout upstairs. That OK?”

He nodded and sat back as she got up and left the room. Col heard her calling to Shoran and Lana. Shoran came back in a minute later without the child.

“Cocked that up – the photo,” she said quietly with a doubtful grimace. “She’s still upset with Andy and he’s been gone five months now. Sends her money for Lana, no problem there but he hasn’t been near the place since then. Should have had a different photo but I like that one of them all...”

Col listened and watched as the older woman’s mind seemed to drift into some distant reverie with a big sigh.

“What happened ... er! Between them?”

“Another woman,” whispered Shoran. “She doesn’t know that though - so shushhh!”

Her fingers went to her lips in the time honoured gesture for conspiracy, he nodded.

“If you don’t mind me saying so. Must be one hell of a woman to tease him away from her. She’s pretty and strong to have done what she did,” said Col quietly.

Shoran seemed to preen for a second, sitting slightly straighter in her chair until she spoke.

“Oh you mean the weight loss. Yes. Isn’t she brilliant?”

“From 295 pounds to 156. That’s a lot – one hell of a lot. Megan told me. That’s why she’s won the prize and I am here,” Col told Shoran, who nodded and then leaned towards him.

Her dress hung open, her tits rested on her knees and her cleavage cut right up into her neck emphasised by the multiple flesh creases on her chest.

“That’s one of the problems. Andy’s problems. He loves - no absolutely adores big girls. Like she was. He thought she was his Venus. His absolute goddess and now she isn’t. He married her when she was about 200 pounds. Can you see? He likes them big and he’s got one to replace her...” Shoran suddenly stopped and grimaced. “Sorry I shouldn’t be telling you all this. Marianne doesn’t know anything about that OK?”

Col nodded gravely and promised silence, wondering how Shoran knew, as a voice filtered through. It was Marianne calling him. Shoran joined him when he got gathered his stuff and got to the bottom of the stairs and shouted.

“Do you want me to come up too?”

“No it’s OK Mum thanks. I’ll be alright. I’ve got clothes on you know,” the last words accompanied by a chuckle.

“Well knowing you in this house, that surprises me,” giggled Shoran loudly, nudging Col with her elbow as he indicated with his eyes for permission to go upstairs.

He looked forward to the job ahead. Megan was away at a marketing seminar and he wondered how long he could last without a sight of her big fat pussy and muscular arsehole.

In the bedroom, Marianne stood waiting in a smart navy blue tailored suit, bare tanned legs and high heels. Col whistled with surprise and approval as he set his camera bags down. She chuckled and struck some poses as he sorted his gear and got ready for the photo session, setting up his tripod. Lana dashed freely in and out, ignoring Marianne’s words not to get in the way and leaving them in peace. Col told her it didn’t bother him as he finally got Marianne to pose the way he wanted. He rattled off a few shots and then she took her jacket off.

Her cream tight fitting blouse stretched over her full bounteous breasts, the clear outline of her brassiere showing through. Noting how well stacked she was, he got more shots, including some in profile until Lana turned up again. This time she was wearing the pink bra on her head again.

“Isn’t she something else?” Col laughed.

“Yeah! Mum – come and get her will you,” shouted Marianne, grabbing the underwear much to the child’s annoyance.

Shoran arrived, puffing and panting to take the protesting kid away. Marianne fingered the bra.

‘Outsize mail order. 58 inch boobs in those days,” she mused loudly.

“What are you now ... sorry, didn’t mean...” stuttered Col.

“It’s OK Col. 44 inch, 38 D cup. Better eh?” Marianne laughed, breathing in and sticking her magnificent chest out. “The fellas like them I can tell you. I always liked them too and glad the weight didn’t fall off them too much.”

“I can see why, “Col breathed changing a film. “Some normal house wear now maybe? I’ll go outside while you change.”

He left the bedroom and closed the door behind him and waited on the landing. Silence reigned downstairs but he could hear voices behind a door at the end of the landing and he guessed Shoran was inside with Lana. Some washing was draped over the banister rail and he glanced at the outsize panties and brassieres hung there. Large, white, plain, women’s pants and two huge bras mystified him. They were not Marianne’s garments surely, he pondered. She would have more taste and delicacy and the size – he glanced swiftly at the labels, not Marianne’s size at all.

“Ready Col thanks,” shouted Marianne.

He re-entered her room and gasped. Marianne stood in a skimpy tee-shirt and bikini bottoms. The jut of her breasts through the shirt, emphasised by simply enormous nipples stunned him and he gazed open mouthed for a second until she giggled.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t taken these kind of shots Col,” she murmured.

“No – it’s just ... well I don’t know. Right let’s get you posed right Marianne,” he spluttered angling some mini spot lights.

Marianne preened and posed and did just that little bit more than he wanted. Not for his sake were the poses too revealing, he loved them, but the magazine couldn’t have used them, with her nipples peeping out, the top of her arse crack above the bikini and the way the gusset had gathered up in what was evidently a large pussy crack at the front, perfect camel toe. That, he could airbrush out although he wouldn’t for his own collection. He did take several shots of her, which Marianne loved. The attention and her pride overshadowed Col’s surreptitious shots, which the magazine would not see.

“This your normal housewear Marianne?” he asked as he told her that was all.

“No, usually less,” she trilled. “Want some undie shots? Like I said I haven’t got a swimsuit.”

“No that’s fine thanks,” he told her, beginning to pack his gear away.

“Your mag doesn’t do nudey ones do they. Wouldn’t mind some of those myself – money wise,” she whispered to him as if people were listening. “Now I’m going to be public in your magazine, I bet I’ll get other people, like the tabloids wanting me to do them. Nice money I expect.”

“Probably, but not my style,” Col told her zipping his cases.

‘S’funny but I would trust you to take them you know. At least I know you ... and Megan of course - sort of. I have this instinct about people and I like you,” Marianne added as an afterthought, her fingers inside the top of the bikini.

Surely she wasn’t going to pull them down? Col thought.

Col sensed she was offering to go topless and whatever else, just for him. His professional mind wrestled with his male instincts. He had the time, but her mum and the kid were in and didn’t she say she was going back to work. Logic and his obvious reticence entered Marianne’s mind at the same time and she announced she would dress and go back to work, if that was alright with him. Col left her – agreeing, and went downstairs to be greeted by a slyly grinning Shoran who ushered him back into the front room.

“I have put Lana down for her afternoon sleep,” she told him. “You not rushing off are you? Tea?”

“That would be nice thanks,” answered Col.

Shoran visibly fluttered with pleasure at his acceptance and left him as Marianne arrived downstairs. He got her to sign some forms and left some papers with her. Marianne left the house minutes later telling Col that Shoran would be in charge until she got back from the office. Her mum came back into the front room and placed the tray on the table and then shut the door behind her. She plonked herself heavily down beside Col who budged along the sofa to make more room for her. As she poured the drinks, she slyly glanced at him and smiled.

“You’re a naughty boy Col,” she murmured with a smile.

“What do you mean Shoran?”

“I saw you upstairs...”

“Hey, it was only photographs as authorised you know th...”

“I’m not talking about photos.”

“Anyway you weren’t in the room.”

“No but I was in Lana’s room and was coming out and I saw you on the landing – yeah?”

Col’s face fell and he clapped his hand over his mouth in despair.

“Oh my god!” he spluttered.

“Yes, the underwear, my underwear Col. I saw you taking a peep,” she giggled. “Naughty boy.”

“I am sorry Shoran. It was just that although it was nice stuff, they seemed wrong...”

“You imagined they would be Marianne’s.”

“At first yes, then I saw the labels.”

“I’m rather pleased you didn’t pick them up and sniff them Col. Now that would be nasty. But at least they were clean.”

“Oh no Shoran. Please don’t think of me that way.”

“My hubby did all over the place. Wherever we or he stayed he had to raid the wash baskets for dirty underwear. Relatives, friends - all of them he sniffed” she told him. “Even after I kept catching him at it over the years he still had to do it. Mind you he was a randy little bastard.”

“Er! Where is he? At home?”

“Yes home for pervs. Six feet under. God rest his soul. Buried him ten years ago. Never knew Lana,” she added wistfully.

“Sorry,” Col mumbled.

“It’s OK. Anyway, I get the impression you like us large ladies,” Shoran preened.

“Could say that. Got to really, to photo them and do them justice. Have you met Megan, my girlfriend?” he asked.

“No but Marianne told me about her. Big girl eh?”

“Yeah. Love her to bits – all of her,” he chuckled, pleased to be off the underwear subject.

“Job in a million then – yours?” said Shoran.

“It’s not bad,” he replied sheepishly.

“Snapping all those big models and people like Marianne. You did her before she lost the weight didn’t you?”

“I photographed her yes, if that’s what you mean,” Col answered guardedly.

“Well of course you didn’t do her,” shrieked Shoran, her wobbling upsetting Col’s nearly empty cup and saucer. “But I bet you would like to.”

Col gasped and placed his tremblingly drink down. He peered at the mature woman’s grinning face. She kept up the smile as he shook his head in puzzlement.

“But that’s your daughter Shoran,” said Col.

“Would you then?” she challenged. “Like to do her?”

He spluttered, coughed and swallowed and lowered his head. Shoran bent her head down to gaze up at him demanding an answer. Her dress front fell away and he saw acres of tit flesh creased across her chest and swallowed again. That was nice.

“If you mean - would I like to make love to her ... then I suppose the answer is yes. Yes I would, but it’s not even in the frame and totally out of the question,” Col said as dignified as he could. “I have a lovely girlfriend thankyou.”

“Andy had a lovely wife in Marianne but he strayed from the nest,” Shoran told him, moving the coffee table away. “And you know why.”

“Yes you told me – because of her weight loss. But she is still very attractive Shoran.”

“But he likes really big women Col - mature. That’s the point, just like you.”

“Hmm! Yes I do.”

“Like me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ... well. It’s sort of different isn’t it?”

“Why, because I’m a lot older than you or Andy?” Shoran giggled.

“Can’t speak for Andy, but age doesn’t matter to me,” Col said positively.

“I am fifty two – my age that is. The bra is fifty G cup ... but you know that already,” chuckled Shoran as her eyes went upwards. “On the landing ... you know. Big girl.”

Col nodded sheepishly.

“How old are you Col?” she answered gently, placing a chubby be-ringed hand on his arm.

“Twenty five,” he squeaked.

“Age doesn’t matter to you does it? Even if I am over twice your age,” Shoran murmured softly, taking his hand and placing it on her knee. “I’m a big woman Col. A very big woman.”

“Oh my god Shoran. Don’t please,” he squawked.

“Squeeze that lovely fat knee Col. See how giving it is and imagine all those other places you could squeeze. You’d never get round them all in one day would you?” she breathed, her face close to his ear. “You could do me ... I mean photograph me if you like – today.”

She drew his hand up her thigh and he felt the heat through the flimsy dress.

“Battery I’m afraid,” he rasped lying, his throat parched.

“Give me an audition for next time couldn’t you? Weigh me up, if you see what I mean,” she said, pressing his hand on her thigh.

“Shoran please. This is not right ... Oh my God!” Col gasped, fuck she would have a lot to weigh up.

In a flick of a second, she had undone the top button of her dress and dropped her dress front and unearthed a mammoth left tit, that hung over the tightly stretched material. Shoran cupped it and offered it to him. The pale, pearlescent mammary was blue veined and bulbous with a low slung pale pink nipple that didn’t project from the glistening white surface. Her teat was surrounded by many little, almost identical versions of her nipple set in a pale six inch wide oval shaped areolae. The upper slopes of her breast looked like a ski piste map with the criss-crossing lines of stretch marks and veins.

“Try that for size Col,” she whispered taking his damp hand and replacing her cupping hand with his. “What do they say? You don’t get many of these to the pound.”

He gulped and felt the soft wobble of her enormous bust, it’s heat burning his palm, it’s weight heavy and full in his hand which started to stroke the acres of tit flesh she offered him. Seconds later, with more deft movements, Shoran had unleashed her right tit and it too spilled happily out, clashing together unfettered by the stitches and seams of her open dress. With a shrug, Shoran made the material fall away to her waist as Col, brought his other hand into play. The rolls of her fat terraced down her belly into a huge overhang that nearly covered her thighs to her knees.

Col was in paradise as he gazed at the mountainous flesh of this forward mature woman. Stretch marks across her lower belly created a sort of road map effect that all led to a fold down the middle of her bellydown to the joint of her flabby legs.

“Am I a good subject for your camera Col ... that’s if you had film in it?” she chuckled as his hands roamed over her laid back body.

“Oh yes Shoran, you are beautiful,” he squeaked.

“Want to see how I would look totally nude, just for an idea of a pose? Hypothetically speaking of course,” she grinned, with a cute wink.

He nodded and let her lever her great frame up and stand in front of him. The light from the front window was shut out as her bulk towered over Col and he looked up at her mammoth bazongers quivering above him as she endeavoured to roll her dress down. Her tits slammed together and were squeezed into unfathomable shapes as she wrestled with it, but the cotton could not stretch itself over her hips. In desperation, Shoran tugged hard and there was a sharp splitting noise and the persistent but overloaded seam gave way and her dress tore down one side.

With nothing more than a slightly annoyed grimace and shrug, Shoran rolled the tortured garment down and kicked it off her feet as her whole body rolled and wobbled to Col’s delight. Gloriously naked, Shoran posed before him, adopting the sort of glamour girl positions she thought he would recognise. He did but was not interested in the poses. Col was aware of his rising erection and what sort of fuck she would be.

Big women were his speciality and desire and he had had his fair share of them over the years, but none as old and upfront as Shoran. With a little yelp he leaned forward and grabbed her thighs, pulling her to him burying his head in the lardy folds of her belly. He drank in her body odours, licking the dimpled, ample flesh, finding new sweaty creases of barely seen skin as she shuffled forward in triumph, patting his head as she would a good little boy.

Col’s hands groped her huge buttocks, the back of her thighs, her hips and the vastly padded rolls of her stomach. Shoran reached down and hoisted his logo embroidered polo shirt over his head. Skin to skin he crumpled his sturdy rugby playing, muscular body into her lower torso, loving the contact, the heat generated and her willingness to let him indulge in pure contact. His squeaks and gasps of pleasure were softened by the volume of opulent flesh that stifled them and Shoran revelled in the adoring nature in which he saw her. She loosened his grasp to his annoyance until she managed to bend down and slap her big knockers around his head. Col thrust his face into them as Shoran manipulated them round his slavering face, licking the sweaty area of under bosom which had been long hidden below their massive droop. Her breasts fell and slid over his face like two softening balloons as Col’s tongue sought out her nipples.

Shoran’s back was killing her and she slid down to lay heavily alongside him.

“Your pants Col. Take your pants off darling,” she urged him.

In a flash, Col was naked, even his socks which was a habit from Megan’s influence. As the black socks were kicked off, the image of his gorgeous girlfriend shot through him and he stalled for a split second. The image was swept from his mind by Shoran pouncing joyfully on his cock which stuck rigidly up his belly. She swallowed him, all seven inches of fat dick disappeared into her waiting mouth as she swamped him. Col fondled and stroked the mountainous range of her body, laid partly alongside him as she gobbled sumptuously on his stiffy. He couldn’t reach round her buttocks or belly to find her cunt. Not could he find his way into her arse crack such was the distance round the immense bulk of his mature seductress.

His head lay back as he blissfully gave in to her searching mouth, while he stroked her soft pliant body.

“I want to fuck you Shoran,” he gasped.

“Me too Col, let me lay down on the floor,” she replied.

“No – please, lay back on the sofa,” he told her.

With the utmost difficulty, she did so and he was faced with her arms beckoning him as he surveyed the verdant landscape of her fifty two year old lusting body. While she mewed in a wanton cat like way, he feasted on the slack splay of her enormous boobs which had slunk to her sides and were half tucked under the folding hang of her bingo wings. Her rippling belly had evened out in the stretched lay and he saw the deep pit of her navel amidst it’s own crease. His gaze lowered to her crotch at the same time Shoran – who decided she wanted him a bit quicker than he was contemplating, dropped her hands to the pouch of stomach which remained obstinately concealing her cunt.

Her hands probed into the squashy pouch and soon Col saw the meaty mouth of her sex opened amongst the sparse but widely spread mat of her greying pubic hairs. The size of her gash excited him as it seemed smaller than expected and was framed by two thin, almost sliced strips of florid coloured labia which were forced back by her fingers.

“Col ... please darling. Fuck me,” she pleaded.

He need no second request, noticing that her juices were assembling in a bubble at the base of her snatch. With a cry of delight in discovering such a hot, mature, fat wet woman with so bounteous a body, Col levered down over Shoran, her arms pulling him into her fat as he thrust his cock into the pudding like vee of her groin. His dick missed her small hole initially and he paused while he used his hand aimed. With another cry, he sank onto Shoran as he felt his prick slice into the heat of her open twat. She was surprisingly tight and he wondered if it was some time before she had been fucked, but she certainly was lubricated as Col found he could slide in and out at will.