2 comments/ 21349 views/ 13 favorites Fuzzy Flight By: MarcusWoolf I would like to read more stories with wool fetish as a theme, like some of the stories submitted by Smother or Maude. That being the case; I have tried to write a story in the same vein myself. Comments and improvements are appreciated. It was winter and bitterly cold outside. I was leaving my home town on a late-night flight to go to university, unsure of what the future might bring. I was half asleep, waiting for my flight to start boarding, when she entered the waiting area; a vivacious blonde in a fantastic fuzzy blue turtleneck sweater and high-heeled knee-long musketeer boots. If I should describe her in just three words, she was 'curvy, sexy and hot'. I could pinpoint the age of my friends within a year or so, but I could not determine her age with any accuracy. Not that it mattered - she looked great. She was probably not in her thirties - there was a certain maturity and ripeness about her that made me suspect that she was a bit older. But she was probably not past fifty either, but who could really tell. Her makeup was flawless, and I instantly noticed her long, pointed, scarlet fingernails. Her on-board luggage consisted of a leather shoulder-bag and a large, chunky knitted coat that she had on her arm. She did not belong to my generation, but she looked more desirable than anyone I had ever met before. She looked so sure of herself, so confident and so feminine in that fluffy, fuzzy blue sweater that hugged her body. The sweater followed the contour of her hips, and a wide, rib-knit section tucked it in nicely below her sexy bottom. A wide, black leather belt matching her black boots was cinched around her waist and emphasized her full, hourglass figure. I had always had a thing for self-confident mature women. Girls my own age were either childish and boring or haughty and condescending. But I often got on great with the mothers of many of my friends. This woman, however, was something else again. I could see that I was not the only male person that was giving her a good look-over. We started boarding, but I held back, taking a last, longing look at the beautiful blonde as she approached the gate. As it happened, I reached the gate just after her and stood there panting as I stared at her fantastic well-rounded bottom. I had to control myself in order not to reach out and feel that gorgeous sweater. When I showed my boarding pass, there turned out to be some problem with my seating or over-booking or something like that. The blonde lady must have overheard, because she turned around and said a few words I did not catch to the stewardess at the gate. Obviously, that solved the problem and I was waived aboard. I had expected a cramped seat at the back of the plane, but the on-board hostess showed me to one of the front rows on business class. The mature blonde had the window seat, her chunky coat lay on the seat next to her and I had the seat next to the aisle. She politely invited me to move her coat and sit next to her. I marvelled at the softness and fluffiness of her coat as I moved it, and could not help myself from stroking and patting it as I had it in my hands. It was marvellous. I knew I was a wool fetishist deep down. She patted the seat next to her. Oh, those long red fingernails were so sexy. I felt very self-conscious sitting next to her - she was so beautiful and so attractive. I am sure that my cheeks were flushing beet-red. She chatted me up right away, innocent small-talk of the kind I knew from the mothers of many of my friends. Where I was going? What I would be doing there? I answered mostly in short, timid sentences the way most young men do, but she did not relent. After a short while she knew everything about me and I nothing about her. I just knew that she knitted and loved to knit all kinds of garments. And that she had a friendly smile, fine teeth, perfect makeup, lovely full bosom, soft blonde curls and dangerously long scarlet fingernails - I could not help myself staring. She had her knitting needles out and as knitting what looked like a small sock in the same colour as her super-soft sweater. My eyes were transfixed on her knitting needles and her fingers and nails. I could not understand how she could knit so fast and without dropping a stitch with those long nails. In my mind I wondered what it would feel like to be scratched by those nails. I also wondered if her sweater was just as soft and cuddly as her coat. Or how she would react if I reached out and touched her. I had some fantasy images of my cock being buried in the soft wool of her sweater and her hands slowly stroking it. Or those nails scratching the inside of my thighs and my naked dick. I remembered an image I had once seen in a porn magazine of long, sharp fingernails like hers tormenting a stiff pulsating cock, tearing into the naked skin causing intense lust, excitement and pain all at once. I believe I must have groaned or something, because she looked strangely at me. The lights had been turned down in the cabin, and many of the passengers were taking a nap. The hostesses were handing out blankets. My blonde friend must have decided that I needed small nap myself, because without much ado she raised the armrest between us, put her arm around me and drew me close. Oh, that felt so nice. I let myself and nuzzled my head against her shoulder, buried my face in her hair and the thick soft wool of her turtleneck sweater. She had a hostess cover us with her thick, soft and woolly winter coat. I do know whether we were taken for mother and son, and I did not care. I was in heaven. It was so nice and warm next to this gorgeous mature woman and under her warm fluffy coat. My trousers were bulging - I was excited, but I would have been content with just being allowed to nuzzle up close to her for the duration of the flight. However, soon I felt her hands on me, opening my shirt, and her fingernails softly scratching my cheek, my chin, my neck and my chest. That felt so good. The scratching of her fingernails made me even more sensitive to the soft, but also slightly itchy wool when she brushed me with her sleeves. I could not help myself and began to explore her body, my roaming hands unseen under the great coat. I stroked the outside of her thighs, felt the shape of her hips, venture boldly upwards towards her chest. I hardly dared touch her breast, but I let my hands float over the outer ends of the soft fluffy wool just following the contour. I felt a nipple stiffen under my hand, and now it was her turn to groan. For miles and miles we rocketed through the winter air exploring each other's bodies. She alternated between softly stroking my naked skin and scratching it. I alternated between stroking her woollen-clad body and groping her thighs, her hips and her breasts. I lightly pinched her nipples through the soft wool, and she responded by scratching my own nipples - hard. I pinched her nipples harder, and she grabbed hold of one of my nipples with the sharp ends of her fingernails and twisted - hard. I groaned into her neck, the thick wool muffling my sounds. My hand had found its way between her legs, under her sweater. Her thighs were covered in silky smooth nylons and felt cool and warm at the same time. At first she held her thighs close together, preventing any further progress, but slowly she relented. I let my hand explore further, reaching the wide, slight scratchy band of her stay-up stockings. At the same time I felt her fingers manipulating my trouser belt. As my hand touched her soft mound encased in lacy, patterned panties, her hand enclosed my stiff member and started scratching and stroking it through my shorts. I was close to cumming then and there, but she deftly alternated between scratching me at all the sensitive spots and stroking me lovingly - ever so slowly. I lifted my hips from the seat so that she could manipulate my stiff cock out of the restraints of my shorts. Around us people were asleep or dozing. I could hear the hostesses walking up and down the centre aisle, but I felt no mental restraint, no holding back. This was heaven. I was so warm, so safe in this mature woman's warm embrace, and more excited than I had ever been before. I stroked the outside of her panties with my fingers, feeling the contour of her soft pussy, building images of her mature pussy from the sensations of my exploring fingers. Behind the lacy front I could feel her labia and a wet spot forming. As she slightly parted her legs further I could feel the slight depression that constituted the opening between her outer cunt lips. An opening closed to me by her panties. The sleeves of her sweater felt so nice stroking my naked skin, but now something equally soft was caressing my straining member. I remembered the miniature sock she had knitted. That must be it. She was easing this soft garment down over my cock, inches at a time. I was ready to spurt, but she expertly took her time, squeezed my cock and waited for the built-up tension to subside before progressing further. In the meantime some of my fingers had circumvented the obstacle of her panties and found their way behind the elastic band. Oh, she was dripping wet and very excited. Slick with moisture two of my fingers slipped in between her cunt lips and found the secret passage to her love canal. She had managed the cover all of my rod with her custom-made mohair sleeve. It even encompassed my nuts and felt ever so soft. Slowly she started pumping my cock in response to my fingers massaging the inside of her sex. She started bucking her hips as if to impale her sex further on my hand. Her hand now stroked my dick hard and quick, and as I heard her panting softly and felt her pussy muscles pulsate and clamp around my exploring fingers, my dam burst and I shot load after load of semen into the woollen sleeve and all over my trousers. I was a mess. To add to my distress, the Fasten Seat Belt-sign and the cabin lights came on just seconds thereafter. My blonde friend looked flushed - the red colour to her cheeks just made her even more attractive. She pushed my hand away and straightened her sweater and looked full of self-confidence again. With a wry smile, she started to pull the coat away - the coat that hid the mess I had made of myself. I was frantically trying to zip up my trousers, buckle my belt and button up my shirt, but I knew I would have a huge wet spot down the front of my trousers. She smiled at me and said that she would kindly let me carry her coat for her. I could just hold it in front of me, and nobody would be the wiser. Not much later we had landed and ready to embark. I was limp all over - totally exhausted from the excitement and unexpected release. Now, what would the future bring? Fuzzy Flight Pt. 02 This story is part 2 of my first story, "Fuzzy Flight". I recommend reading that first. After we had landed and had docked at the appropriate boarding bridge, there was a general rush to leave the plane. On my arm I carried the lovely thick and heavy knitted coat for my mature blonde travel-mate on her suggestion. That was a good thing, as it hid the big wet stain on the front of my trousers from her expert hand-job during the flight. She led the way and I followed close behind. Judging by the smirking of one of the on-board hostess bidding us farewell I must have looked like an eager puppy. I guess I was. Eager, that is. I did not want to say goodbye to the enticing, seductive blonde in her lovely fuzzy sweater-dress, and carrying her coat postponed the moment when we would have to go our separate ways, at least for a bit. Travelling by air saves time, but somehow much of the saved time is spent on walking great distances to and from gates at the airport. And the labyrinth layout of modern airports are often made further complicated by redecoration and new construction. So it was also this time. In addition to the steady bustle of travellers hurrying to and from, there were workmen everywhere erecting new section walls and constructing new shops and counters all over. But my companion seemed to know her way about. As we turned a couple of sharp bends, my new friend suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled me through a small opening between two large fibreboard wall-sections. We entered a small boarded-up space that would soon become an information desk or car rental counter, but now was deserted with a bare and unfinished look. On the other side of the fibreboard - just a few feet away - busy travellers were walking, talking or loafing about. From the other side of the back walls of the confined space we could hear the intermittent whine of electric tools, workmen talking and a transistor radio play some of the latest hits. But my blonde companion seemed unaware of all of this. She piled our carry-on luggage in a corner, put the coat on top, pulled me close and whispered in my ear: "We have unfinished business. You came - and I didn't ..." She unbuttoned my shirt and raked her red talons down my chest. She also unbuckled my trousers to feel my growing cock, giving it a few tugs to egg me on. Quite unnecessary, as I was already so excited and eager to do anything she would request from me. No-one had made me feel so excited at any time before. Being alone here with her in the semi-darkness, knowing sex was imminent, was an absolute turn-on. And knowing that there were masses of strangers all around us, only a few feet away, made it all the more titillating. She reached under the hem of her dress, whipped down her knickers in one swift movement and kicked them away with a sexy swing with her booted foot. She then laid her hands on my shoulders and pushed me down. I obediently knelt before her and caressed her hips. The soft thick wool of her sweater-dress covering her hips felt so nice to the touch, and I pressed my face against her belly. She placed her hands on the top of my head and directed me further down, her sharp nails digging into my neck and egging me on. I buried my face in the soft folds of her sweater and the valley between her legs. She began to sway her hips and grind her crotch against my face. The woollen garment was lush and warm and tickling against my cheek. She rotated slowly before me slowly, relishing the admiring noises coming from and the caressing hands belonging to the admiring young man kneeling before her. Leaning against the counter, she pushed out her round bottom, and I held her hips and buried my face in the crack between her soft buttocks. Ever so slowly, she raised the hem of her sweater-dress. I had loved to feel the soft, but also slightly scratchy texture of the ribbed hem of her woollen dress against my naked cheeks, but I also longed to feel her naked flesh. There was not much light in the small space where we hid from the bustling masses, but some rays of light came in through cracks between the building boards. But I did not need any light to find her soft buttocks and push my face into the crack between them. "Lick me - kiss me down there", she panted, and I obliged ... gladly. I did not have much sexual experience, but instinct took over. I found that I loved to be just here, on my knees, worshipping a sexy mature woman's ass. I planted loving kisses all over her soft flesh, but she was so keen, so eager, so impatient and wiggled her ass against my face. I stuck out my tongue and licked the crack between her ass-cheeks again and again, up and down all the way, smelling my way and seeking out her asshole. I stuck out my tongue and pressed it against her sphincter, which relaxed and allowed me, when I craned my neck as much as I could, grabbed her hips and pressed my face into the crack between her buttocks, to stick it into the first half-inch or so of her asshole. It was a strange experience and very thrilling. Had someone, just a few days ago, suggested to me that I should eat out a mature woman's ass, I would have been disgusted, but now it just felt right, and good, and oh so exciting. I felt I would like to stay like this, in the dark, on the floor, licking and sucking on the asshole of a sexy, mature and quite demanding woman, forever. It was not dirty. Oh well, it was dirty, but in a very exciting way. And it was an appropriate token of my admiration of her; a proof of my total submission to her demands and wishes. In short, it felt just right. My hands were all over her, caressing her legs in her sexy, knee-high calfskin boots, stroking her thighs and finding their way towards the soft, wet spot between her legs. She placed her legs further apart and rested her head on her arms on the counter. This made it possible for me to crawl under her, in between her legs, getting easier access to those intriguing places. Areas I knew from erotic magazines, but had little actual experience of. My tongue travelled down the crack towards her pussy. I found it easier to sit on the floor between her legs, my back towards the counter, raise my mouth and suck on her open pussy, lick her labia and tickle her clit with the tip of my tongue. My cock had grown thick, and I had one knee on each side of one of her feet, and I was slowly humping her leg like an eager puppy dog. She was now moaning into her arms. I let my hands roam all over her ass-cheeks and down her thighs. As I first sucked on her clit and then stuck my tongue as far into her pussy as I possibly could, her legs began to tremble, and when I slowly inserted a finger into her anus whilst worshipping her pussy, she came with a load cry followed by muffled moans. My face was glistening wet with my saliva and her pussy juices. There was also a hint of fresh urine. It was a new taste for me; a salty blend, but also thoroughly intoxicating. I was hooked. She tasted so good. I knew I needed more of this - as often as it was humanly possible. I was also wet between the legs - again. My cock had spurted fresh semen over her booted foot, and now it also trickled down and stained my trousers again. My travel-mate found her knickers and put them back on and straightened her dress. Apart from blushing cheeks, she looked composed and calm, as if nothing had happened. She grinned when she discovered my plight. "I think you need to hold on to my coat. You cannot show yourself like that. Perhaps you should carry it for me all the way home?" Fuzzy Flight Pt. 03 We peeked out of the crack between the fibreboard plates looking for a slack in the traffic outside of the small cubicle and tried to make as discreet an escape as possible. My mature friend proved remarkably adept at this and soon strode on alongside busy travellers in a very confident manner with me struggling to keep pace behind her. My eyes were transfixed on her lovely round bottom and her swaying hips, now decently covered by her soft sweater-dress, but only a few minutes ago bare and available for my kisses, my tongue and my roaming hands. She had used her panties to clean my semen off her boots, and it was and added thrill for me to know that she was now bare "down there". We soon found our luggage on the conveyor belt at the baggage claim area -- we were the last passengers from our flight there. I handled the trolley, hiding my soiled trousers behind the knitted mohair coat that I had folded over the handle bar. Any plans I might have had for my arrival in this town and accommodation near the campus were soon forgotten. She had taken control, and I eagerly followed. She seemed so confident. She expertly hailed a taxi and I shared the back seat with her with her lovely soft coat in my lap. After having given the taxi driver the address, she explained to me that she lived not far from campus and did, in fact, have a spare room that would be perfect for a young student like me. "The rent will be minimal," she assured me. "You will have your own room and the freedom to come and go as you please. I will only need your assistance with some trifling matters - that is all. I will not take no for an answer." I stuttered my thanks and stroked the coat in my lap. It felt so warm and lovely. I thought about her nakedness under her sweater-dress, admired how the knitted material formed itself after her shape and showed off her full bosom. I would love to stroke her -- her arms, her thighs and especially her breast covered in that soft, fluffy wool. But for now I just held on to her coat and fantasized. She reached out and pulled me closer to her, gently scratching my neck and my chin with her long red nails, thereby removing any misgivings I might have had. I loved her long nails. Their blood red colour contrasted lovely with her deep blue shade of her woollen dress, and their considerable length made them extra conspicuous. I once heard some psychologist maintain that women wore high heels and grew long nails to look vulnerable and helpless and thus appeal to the "knight" in us males. With me it is the other way around. I find women in really high heels taller, mightier and somehow more frightening and more domineering, and long, brightly painted fingernails of course attract attention, but also look like they could hurt you and be used to subdue you. When the woman in question is significantly older than you, more worldly-wise and considerably more experienced -- in short, much more mature, like my new-found friend here -- how could you resist them. I could not. I felt my own will evaporate and be replaced by a decided need to subject myself to her wishes. Yes, that would be best and so exciting. I let myself be enveloped by her soft arms and surrendered myself to her embrace, resting my head against her soft, yielding bosom... --- She had a spacious penthouse flat with a commanding view. The furniture was modern and expensive, much stainless steel and leather, and the decor was held in bright colours. Very nice, but a tad impersonal, I thought. I was curious to find out more about this woman. I looked around me and my gaze stopped when my eyes again rested on her. To my surprise, she had taken her fine knitted coat on. Only her high-heeled boots prevented it from reaching all the way to the floor. It was of the wrap-around style with a large hood that she had lifted over her head, and it was held together with a knitted belt. She looked a bit sinister, but also very, very soft, lovely and huggable. I took a few steps towards her... "Remove your clothes! All of them! Now!" she ordered. She pointed at the lush carpet in front of her with a long red fingernail. I was a bit shocked by the transformation, but not entirely surprised. I hastened to rid myself of my clothes, though. It proved to be quite cold in the flat, and I felt very vulnerable as I stood there before her with my hands covering my private parts, which was a bit ridiculous, really, as they were not so very private any more. I started to shake; from cold or apprehension, I do not quite know. Changing mood again, she smiled gently at me: "Yes, it is a bit cold in my flat. I like to keep the temperature low and wear nice woollen clothes to keep me nice and warm," she explained She hugged herself and stroked the soft wool of her thick coat, admiringly. I admired it too. She looked so nice. "Come here, let me warm you," she said softly. She loosened the belt and held her coat open. Under the coat she still wore the matching figure-hugging sweater-dress. I stepped up to her and let her embrace me in her coat. I was surrounded by soft wool all around, held close by a soft woman, snug and warm. Her full breasts were poking my chest. I felt so good. She rubbed my naked skin with her coat, warming me and caressing me. When I had stopped shaking, she once again applied gentle pressure on my shoulders and motioned me to kneel down. I, of course, instantly knew what she wanted. Still inside her coat I found my way down on my knees, down under the hem of her sweater-dress and settled in a kneeling position between her round thighs. Here, under all the wool, it was warm, cuddly and cosy, and the smell of her sex functioned as an aphrodisiac in my nostrils. Curly hair from her trimmed bush tickled my forehead as my tongue searched for the crack between her blooming lips. The outer lips had been shaven recently, but were now covered with fresh growth giving them a coarse, rasping feel as she ground her hips against my face. I liked that. It gave my worship of her cunt a raw character that heightened the sensation. The inside of her cunt lips, on the other hand, was smooth and wet. I licked her slit lovingly. She rocked her hips from side to side, alternating between the raspy outside and the soft inside of her pussy against my chin; harder, faster. Her sharp talons were digging into my neck, egging me on. I gripped her hips and sucked and licked on her inner lips, grinding my face against her exposed flesh. Her knees buckled, and she pushed me back and fell on top of me. As I lay there on my back on the lush carpet, she straddled my face and ground her most private parts against my eager mouth. Her heels were digging into my side, almost unbearably sharp, but adding to the wild sensations as she was riding my face. Soft wool, strong, jerking thighs and a wet pussy covered me. She used me, exploited me, tormented me for her own purpose, oblivious to my needs and pains. And I loved it, struggling to avoid the heels digging into my sides and the sharp talons scratching my head, but never stopping my worship of her wet, wide, wild cunt. My purpose, right here and right now, was to give her what she craved for, to satisfy her longings. Spasms surged through her transplanting themselves to my body. When she at last relaxed in a wet, perspiring heap on top of me, I was rock hard once more, dripping pre-cum on my belly. But I was also spent. My balls ached, but it would be impossible for me to come. Or so I thought. But she crawled down my body and rested on my crotch. I wanted so much to enter her, but she would not let me. Any movement from my hips trying to push my stiff cock inside her was met by the teasing grinding of her crotch against mine. I tried to use raw power to gain access, but was met with firm resistance and sharp nails holding me at bay. She held me down, punished my every movement with her sharp nails twisting my sore nipples until I lay still. Her hood was still over her head as she crawled further down. I was covered in the soft, but also slightly scratchy wool of her coat from my navel down. The hood made it impossible for me to see what she did, but I could all the more feel the tip of her tongue teasing the bulbous head of my prick. Warm wetness enveloped my sensitive, stiff member, and by the bobbing movement of the hood it was obvious that she was giving me head. I knew what it was from erotic literature, but had never experienced it myself before. It had sounded exciting, but I would never have imagined that it could feel so good. I was so grateful. Her tongue was doing strange things to the underside of my cock as it slipped in and out between her lips. Occasionally she would take almost all of me into her mouth, and I could feel her teeth scraping dangerously against the base of my cock. Simultaneously she was caressing me with the soft wool against my belly and my thighs, and sometimes she would combine it with scraping her nails down my naked skin. My nipples were sore from being twisted and tormented. Some of these sensations brought me closer to the brink and others made me shrink back from the abyss. They all served a purpose -- to excite me further and heighten my sensitivity. Again and again I was so close it was almost unbearable. Eventually, she bundled a lot of fuzzy, fluffy wool around my cock, burying it in a tickling mass of softness, stroking me with the woolly material, letting only the tip of my cock exit from the wool at short intervals and then lick it, kiss it and nip it with her teeth. Suddenly, the pressure became unbearable and the dam burst so that a volley of sperm erupted from my cock. She managed to catch most of it in her mouth, but when she lifted her head, pulled back the hood and smiled up at me, I could see blobs of semen on her lips and her cheek. What a fantastic feeling and what a wonderful sight. "You are going to stay with me for a long time, aren't you?" she asked. Fuzzy Flight Pt. 04 My room was bright and spacious and in addition to my bed and a cupboard also contained a writing desk that I could use for my studies. I lived in great comfort compared to most of my fellow students. My mature landlady was very supportive and encouraged me to take my studies seriously. It was a bit strange to share a flat with mature woman who in many ways was the embodiment of former my teenage fantasies: ripe and mature with a full figure, outspoken and easy-going and also very imaginative and resourceful when it came to sex. However, in spite of her easy-going manner, she also had a very private and secretive side. I was not allowed into her bed. We had sex all over the flat, kitchen and bathroom not excepted, but her bedroom remained a secret to me. I was allowed to see her naked and in many kinds of sexy outfits, I was allowed to caress and worship her, she let me fondle her amble breasts and suck her nipples and she loved to have me lick her pussy and worship her ass. She liked it when I fingered her asshole during oral sex. But I was never allowed to penetrate her. Regular sex was out of the question. Not that she said so outright, but she indicated it clearly. She milked my on a daily basis and seemed to take great pleasure in teasing me and controlling my mind and body. She liked to play coy and have me kneel before her and beg, and I was not allowed to come before I had pleasured her orally for a long time. In fact, I liked to drag the process out myself; to caress her and brush the soft wool of her sexy sweaters against my face; to fondle her breasts and search for her nipples through several layers of mohair; to kiss my way up her nylon-covered legs starting at her feet. I was a true submissive at heart. This chastity on her part, if one could call it that, added to the suspense in our relationship, which in one way was very fulfilling, but on the other hand was never really fulfilled. --- There were of course many pretty female students at uni. But the daily milking and the free access to the ripe body of a mature, experienced and attractive and her loving caresses kept me from straying. Not that we had a regular love affair with promises of everlasting love, but she evidently loved to have a young man half her age to worship her and submit to her every command, and for me to eat out her ass was bliss and to be rewarded with a drawn out hand job that emptied my sack completely was pure heaven. She liked to keep the temperature in the flat on the low side and usually wore a wide variety of cuddly sweaters, sweater-dresses or woollen bodysuits and fluffy leg warmers, playing with me and my obvious wool fetish. She liked me to be totally naked when I sought her attention, and subservient and obedient. Often she used her long nails to scratch me in my face, down my neck, across my chest and all over my torso to sensitize my skin further for the soft sensation of fluffy, tickling wool against my naked body. At times she also used a small riding crop to control and direct me – not really in order to outright punish me, for I always complied with her wishes, but to demonstrate clearly who as in control. She grew more dominant as time went by, and I subjected myself willingly to her whims. In fact, I loved every part of it. I loved to crawl before her; to sprawl at her feet on the lush carpet; to lick my way up her thighs, because I knew that was a sure way to get my eager lips on her vulva and my tongue inside her pussy. And that pussy ruled me. I could not get enough of it, and it intrigued me that I was allowed to or rather ordered to lick it, kiss it and have it rubbed in my face for extended periods of time, to explore it with my fingers and tongue, but never allowed to use my cock; never allowed to fuck her outright. --- Sometimes she liked me to cuddle up to her and share her body-warmth through the soft wool. She let me bury my face in the soft folds of mohair covering her chest or caress her round buttocks outlined in the softest angora. At other times, for example if my grades at uni were slipping, she was less motherly and more forceful. Then she could order me to lie over her knees with my butt in the air so that she could slap me or paddle me. I loved being punished like that, even if (or perhaps just because) it resulted in a sore ass that made me relive the experience every time I tried to sit down hours afterwards. However, the great difficulty was not to come prematurely. Just the thought of the humiliating procedure always gave me a hard-on, and I had to stick my stiff member between her thighs to lie properly across her knees. If she wore a wide mohair skirt or long, fuzzy legwarmers that went way past her knees, my cock dipped into a valley of the softest wool, and each slap across my buttocks would make me jerk. She always took it slow, dragging the process out, and followed each slap with gentle caresses, but even so I was always on the brink of spilling my semen down her legs, and she made it clear that that was not acceptable. --- Weeks and months passed like that. Life was great, and I had nothing to complain about. She explored every fetish of mine, and I tried to fulfil every wish of hers. But I was also a nosy and curious young man. Her bedroom was off limits to me, and that was of course a challenge for an enquiring young mind. Curiosity killed the cat, they say. Well, one day, when she had left me alone in the flat and told me not to expect her back anytime soon, I ventured into her room, or rather rooms. Her bedroom was large and bright with large windows facing the roof terrace and covered by soft, white curtains preventing a view inside. Her bedroom was much more personal and feminine than the rest of the flat. There were several doors at the far wall, one leading into a large bathroom, one solidly locked and one giving access to a substantial walk-in closet. This was a gold-mine for a fetishist like me. Here were drawers and shelves full of the most magnificent knit-wear, fancy shoes and boots and drawers full of sexy lingerie. I had promised myself not to disturb anything, but I could not help myself when I saw a particularly chunky sweater knitted from a thick, coarse yarn and with a giant, ribbed turtleneck that could also be used as a hood. I liked the feel of such sweaters and envied the women who wore them. I would love to wear such a sweater myself during sex with the large turtleneck covering my face entirely, being cossetted and cuddled inside the soft and cosy or coarse and scratchy wool. I rid myself of my clothes and pulled the chunky sweater over my head. It was very soft and warm, but at the same time particularly scratchy and itchy. Even when I folded the turtleneck several times over, it still covered my ears and continued to scratch my neck and chin. It gave me a lovely ticklish feeling all over. I excitedly stroked myself as I kept on exploring shelves and drawers. There were, of course, ordinary clothes like jeans and blouses too, but she had an amazingly large collection of very sexy clothing and apparel. On display were also a wide array of shoes and boots with extra high heels and platform soles clearly of the "fuck me" variety that I had not seen before. I wondered when she used to wear those. All the knit-wear was of special interest to me, and there was really much to look at, but nosy me had to open all the cupboards and look in every drawer. One large drawer contained a very varied selection of sex toys, some I had seen in porn magazines, and some not. A number of rubber items puzzled me as to their function, and others surprised me by their sheer size. Really kinky stuff, I thought. --- I had far from completed my search when I found a drawer full of erotic magazines; high-class magazines with superior print and picture quality. They were without publishing data, probably only meant for circulation among a select number of readers. The theme was female domination, light BDSM, classic lingerie, dominatrixes chastizing submissive males, mature and full-figured women seducing and even facesitting young men and more in that vein. The pictures were fantastic, speaking directly to me. Some were obviously staged, primarily to show the sexiness and beauty of the mistresses. Others were apparently from real sex scenes judging by the red bottoms or lined backs of male slaves being subject to various types of punishment and torment in the hands of strict dominatrixes. I started to leaf through one, then another, sensing my heart race as I did so. This was very exciting stuff. I read some of the ads towards back with particular interest, for these ads were surely real. Curvy and strikingly beautiful women with heavy makeup, shiny ponytails, corsets, gloves and whips offered exceptional, personal services. I envied the customers that could afford to pay for what these women had to offer. One of the ads spouting the headline "At her beck and call" showed a picture of a striking blonde woman in high-heeled, thigh-high leather boots with tight lacing all the way up. She sat cross-legged in a high-backed chair that apparently could also function as a queening throne. The wall behind her displayed a number of BDSM implement such as leashes, whips, paddles, canes, handcuffs, hood and gags. According to the ad, her dungeon boasted of having a jail cell, St. Andrews cross, bondage table, queening throne, spanking bench, interrogation chair, leather cuffs and restraints, collars and plenty of pleasant torture toys to make every slave suffer admirably. My dick twitched. The striking mistress in the photo could be a younger version of my landlady, I thought briefly. In the next magazine I hit pay dirt. It contained an article or rather a review, if you like, of a visit to a high-class dominatrix offering to chastise and discipline misbehaving gentlemen. The pictures were full-page size, sharp and crisp showing every enticing detail; her long legs clad in black, thigh-high boots; her long, curved, brightly coloured fingernails; her shaved pussy lips below a trimmed blonde bush and her long blonde hair pulled tightly back in a ponytail. The woman in the photos was the woman from the ad I had seen, and it was also without doubt my present landlady! The adjoining text explained that she offered break down naughty boys of any age, and the reviewer could attest that she did it very well, making the process a pleasantly drawn-out one, utterly humiliating and blissfully painful, almost unbearable and certainly very memorable. Neither the ad nor the review spoke of regular intercourse, but the reviewer hinted that a sufficiently compliant, subservient and generous gentleman might gracefully be allowed to worship the lady's pussy towards the end. Bits and pieces fell into place. It was intriguing to learn that she had been employed in such a business; it did not demean her in my mind, but made knowing her intimately even more thrilling. I looked at the photos. She was perhaps 10-15 years younger in the pictures, but it was hard to say, as she was heavily made up. She was slimmer and her skin more smooth. She was very elegant and quite intimidating. Comparing the woman in the photos with the somewhat fuller, more curvy and more mature woman I knew, I found her to be just as sexy and just as attractive today, perhaps even more so; the ripeness adding yet another layer of sexuality. I wondered whether I would one day be able to discuss her past occupation with her... --- I had not noticed that I had been observed for some time, but as she came approached me, a shadow fell over the magazine I was reading. I flinched, terrified. She looked angry and sad at the same time, and I felt really bad that I had thus betrayed her trust. Her angry silence was worse than anything. She snatched the magazines from me, thrust them into the drawer and slammed it shut. Then she grabbed my arm angrily like a mother would a disobedient child and dragged me towards the locked door at the far end of her bedroom, unlocked it and thrust me inside. The room was windowless and almost pitch-dark with only a little light spilling through the half-open door. I heard some metallic clanging as I sprawled on the hard floor. She guided me towards the sound with slaps and kicks. I crawled forward, and a metal gate fell in place behind me. She lit a single lamp on the wall, and I could make out a dark room with red satiny walls and several black wooden objects. It was the room from the ad in the magazine – a true mistress' dungeon! – and I was locked inside a metal cage too small for me to stand up in. She left me there to think things over. --- As my eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, I could make out more details of the room and all the implements of mild torture and sexual punishment, some frightening and some thrilling. I feared the chastisement that lay ahead of me, but somehow also looked forward to it with some excitement. When she entered hours later, she had put on a black figure-hugging dress knitted from the softest angora and the high lace-up boots I remembered from her ad. The dress barely covered her bottom, and from my low vantage-point I could see that she was naked underneath. Her blonde hair was pulled tightly back in a long pony-tail, and she had applied a very elaborate, colourful makeup that made her look quite stern and sinister. With a riding crop in her hand, she offered to open the cage if I agreed to receive the just punishment for my transgressions. I did. I looked up at her through the iron bars and admired how her ponytail fell softly over her shoulder. The fuzzy outline of her angora dress gave her body further softness and a glowing silhouette. I would endure anything to regain her trust so that we could continue our marvellous relationship. She ordered me to stand in the middle of the room. My cock was gradually growing and twitching, reacting to the scratching feeling of the large, chunky sweater I had on and the fascinating look of my mistress. She put leather handcuffs on my wrist and tied my hands behind my back. She also put a leather cuffs on my ankles and mounted a spreader bar between my feet. I felt quite helpless and vulnerable. I could feel her breath on my neck as she stood behind me and caressed me, stroking my sweater in a way that increased its itchiness. She put her hands under the sweater and scratched my thighs and my hips with her sharp, lacquered fingernails, slowly centring upon my crotch and my cock. She made me squirm when she dragged the sharp tips of her nails along my stiffening shaft and tickled my balls. Slowly she brought her hands up along my midriff, her angora-clad arms felt ever so soft against my naked skin. Then in a change of mood her fingers found my nipples and began tearing into them – hard – with their sharp talons twisting, pulling and scraping. Ouch, that hurt. Judging that my nipples were sufficiently sore and tender, she brought a cold metallic chain under the sweater and up to my chest. Without mercy she fastened one end to my right nipple by means of a sharp clip that bit into my sore flesh, followed by the other end with another clip to the left nipple. She tugged several times at the chain as if to make sure that it was properly attached or, more likely, to increase the pain. Satisfied with her handiwork, she sat herself down in the queening chair. Slowly she spread her legs and displayed her naked cunt to me. Thinking that she wanted me to worship her pussy, I gingerly went down on my knees and staggered forward. "Stop!" she ordered. "Pussy worship would not be a punishment for you. No, you will have to stay there and watch and see that I can manage very well without you." A small table next to the queening held a display of vibrators and dildos of various colours, shapes and sizes, and from this she took a red, but otherwise realistic-looking, jelly dildo and began licking it and sucking on it. She looked at me as she did so, and I have to admit that I wanted it to be my prick that sucked on, not an inanimate jelly copy. After having made it wet, she used it to tease and caress her pussy lips. She spread her lips with her fingers and began to push the dildo inside, slowly at first and then with longer strokes and more vigour. I was quite close and studied how her cunt lips seemed to kiss the tip upon entry and clung to the flexible jelly dildo as it slipped inside. The squishing noises were music to my ears. I hobbled a few steps inches closer until she stopped me with a pointed heel digging into my shoulder. She was panting, her face was flushed and the dildo was wet and sticky when she brought it out. She offered it to me to sniff at and lick on. Then she found another dildo, black rubber this time, a bit thicker and several inches longer, maybe 12 inches in all. It looked large and menacing, and it fascinated me to see up close how her pussy adapted itself to it size and girth. She used both hands to push it inside, but once inside it slid in and out easily. She took it slowly at first, seeming just to enjoy the sensation of the increased size penetrating her, then increased her pace and pushed it gradually further inside. Her hips bucked with each stroke. She had swung one leg over the armrest to make it easier to grip the big black thing with both hands, and that also made it easier for me to see what was going on. I was fascinated to observe that the large dildo also made her asshole stretch and twitch with each stroke. It did not take her so long to reach orgasm, and it made me very excited to be able to see the whole thing from only a few feet away. I wanted so to lunge forward and take part, but she prevented it be pushing me steadily away with sharp heel of her fancy boot. At last, she took the biggest dildo on the table – a large skin-coloured one that must have been 18 inches long with a diameter to match and a large bulbous head. She looked me directly in the eye when she kissed, caressed and licked on it. It was huge and animalistic. I wondered what she would try to do with it – she could not possibly get that inside her. She slid further down in her seat, swung both legs over the armrests and started to press it against her pussy, but she could not manage to get it in. She then picked up a jar of lubricant and lovingly applied it to the tip of the monster dildo. With the assistance of the lubricant and some grunting on her part, she managed to push the head inside. It was mesmerizing to observe how her pussy lips gradually adapted themselves to the dildo and slid over the thickest part. Her cunt now gripped the dildo around the somewhat smaller circumference behind the head. She had had to lift her legs in the air to push the big monster further inside, and this time she did not stop me when I leant forward and kissed her ass cheeks admiringly. I applied my tongue to her puckered asshole and stuck it as far up her ass as I could when she began to ram the giant rubber dick inside her flexible cunt. The movements inside her pussy transplanted themselves to her asshole and could be felt by my tongue. She was very noisy when she came this time – panting, puffing and crying out loud. Juices ran down from her pussy, and I slurped them up with my eager mouth. When she finally pulled the monster dildo out, it came out with a plop, and I could stare into the dark cavity it left behind. Gradually her pussy relaxed and closed up, and I licked and kissed it gingerly, performing true pussy worship. I was in awe of her. We stayed in that position for quite some time – she relaxing and I resting my head in her lap. I had not obtained satisfaction, but there was a small puddle of pre-cum on the floor under my dick. It had been cruel to watch the wild dildo-fucks from close quarters without being able to take any direct part myself. That was a kind of torment in itself. Fuzzy Flight Pt. 04 She looked down at me. "Did you like the show?" "Oh, that was awesome. You were fantastic" I told her. "Which one did you like best; the red jelly one, the black rubber mamba or the last monster dildo?" she asked me with a wry smile. "They were all great, but the monster dildo was unbelievable. I wonder how you could even manage to get that thing inside you. It was such a thrill to watch." --- That must have been my punishment – just to watch and not take part, but no. She kicked me away and ordered me to go and stand before a spanking bench and lean forward. Surprised by her tone, I did as she said. She loosened my hands from behind my back and ordered me to lean forward over the bench. When I did so, the vicious clamps bit into my sore nipples. She fastened first my hands and then my feet to the legs of the bench making it impossible for me to move. "What are you doing to me?" I inquired in despair. She answered my question with a series of slaps on my ass followed by several strokes of her whip. "First I will record how miserable and helpless you look when you are tied down like that, and then I will record every minute of my special punishment of your sorry ass. Just you wait and see." She went around me filming me from every angle and then placed the video camera on a tripod beside us. She lifted my sweater exposing my buttocks and gave me several strokes with a paddle until I begged for mercy. My ass cheeks felt as if they were on fire. "So you liked each and every one of my dildos. I am glad to hear." Out of the corner of my eye I could see her lifting up the hem of her dress and buckling on a leather harness. To this harness she fixed the first jelly dildo so that it jutted out like a proper dick. She stepped forward and prodded my lips with it. "Lick it. Lick it well and good." My position was not a comfortable one – I had to crane my neck to reach the dildo, but did as I was told. It was very humiliating, but on the positive side, the dildo smelled and tasted of her pussy. She walked slowly around to the other side and placed herself right behind me. She stroked my tender backside lovingly, then parted my ass cheeks and applied a small dollop of lubricant in the crack. Gripping my hips she pushed her crotch forward so that the jelly dildo was forced inside me. It hurt some, but not unbearably so. "You must learn to relax. Don't fight it," she advised and started to fuck me steadily from behind. I had never experienced anything like this before, but I found it oddly titillating to be fucked in the ass by a sexy, mature woman. I had dreaded that she had something like this in store for me. Now that it actually happened and adapted myself to the situation, I found it both stimulating and strangely exciting. I had been limp, but now my soft member reacted to the stimulation and began to grow. When I did not protest more, she stopped and withdrew. When she entered me again, I found it hard to relax properly. She pushed harder, but I just could not open wide enough. Oh, oh, she had obviously switched to the back rubber mamba. I felt her digging her nails into my hips as she pushed harder, and suddenly she was inside me. This thing was huge, and I gasped and grunted as she drove it gradually deeper with each stoke. She applied more lubricant, and slowly the feeling went from absolutely unbearable to just ordinary painful and with small increments to nearly tolerable. It was very warm inside the chunky sweater, and it itched and scratched me all over, adding to my excitement. She slapped my tender buttocks from time to time to stop me from whimpering. When I was able to accommodate all of the 12 inches she increased her pace. In spite of the pain and in spite of myself, I could feel my dick harden and stiffen. My mind hated the helpless position I found myself in; my sphincter was extended beyond belief, but still my subconscious and my body reacted differently and welcomed the violent intrusion that my sexy mature mistress made up my rear end. It was extremely humiliating, but also thrilling and exhilarating to know that this was being filmed. As my knees trembled from the onslaught of the rubber mamba being slowly withdrawn from my asshole and then being driven home with force again and again, I wondered if I would ever be allowed to watch the video sometime. The thought was oddly thrilling to me. At last it was over. She was in good shape, but she must also be exhausted by now. She had withdrawn the black rubber dildo, and I could relax. Then she again stood before me, now with the pink mega-monster attached to her harness. It looked impossible. It was so huge that she had to support it with both hands. "Kiss it – welcome it. Soon this thing that you found so awesome will force its way up your ass!" she hissed. "No, no, no. That is impossible. That thing will kill me." I was really desperate. She answered me by rolling the oversize scratching turtleneck of my sweater up over my head and folding the rest down again encasing med head in double layers of ticklish, scratchy wool. I was sweating, and that increased the itching. Normally, I welcomed that and even loved that, but now a feeling of claustrophobia swept over me as I felt something being pressed against my aching rectum. She was without mercy. My protestations were met with further slaps with the paddle and sharp fingernails digging into my skin. I tried to relax, but still it felt as if my asshole would burst as she pushed the monster dildo up my ass. My sphincter muscle gripped it so hard that it would not budge, then it was inside me. I begged her to stop, to withdraw, to leave me alone. She answered by rocking back and forth. She reached under me and gripped my balls. Using them for leverage she drove the killer dildo all the way in. I struggled inside my scratchy woollen encasement, but she was relentless, and again my body reacted differently to my conscious self. My mind revolted against my situation, but my body, my ass, my dick welcomed the violent intrusion. My dick grew in size gradually becoming a monster dick of its own. As I screamed and protested into the soft wool that encased my head, and as she raped my ass with a firm grip around my tender sack, and as the giant dildo massaged my insides and my prostate, my swollen prick started to throb and pulsate with a will of its own and I ejaculated loads of semen onto the floor. "That should teach you not to mess with my things," she whispered in my ear.