Month: March 2015

The eyes have it…

Evadne’s mind was a blur: indeed her whole life was a blur. She was even obliged to squint at the Specsavers adverts. Things had reached the point where she needed to act, but this presented her with a problem: how does one find an optician? She had determined the location of one on the internet (she could sit really close to the screen)but actually locating it on the street was another matter. Evadne anxiously hoped that it had a really big sign, which, when you think about it, would make sense. It did have a big sign, but since it was called Aye-Aye-Sir it took her some time to locate it. She had allowed herself plenty of time though, and so was still a bit early. She however failed to see that the glass door was automatic, and tried to push it open, resulting in her falling through the opening and landing, discomfited, on the doormat the other side.

She was squirming with embarrassment when she became aware of a large presence close by. She looked up and through the fuzziness a handsome face appeared. It belonged to body which crouched down beside her and offered her a hand.
“Damned door!” it exclaimed “I’ve been caught out like that and I work here”
Evadne didn’t believe for a moment that this employee would have fallen foul of the door, but appreciated his efforts to deflect her embarrassment.

Once she was up on her feet (he was still holding onto her hand at this point) she said “I’m a bit early. I’ll just take a seat”

“Oh no. Come straight on through. I don’t have any other appointments til much later” and, still holding her hand, he guided her through the premises to a room down a corridor at the back. He closed the door gently behind him. The room was dimly lit, with a soft rosy light. His hand holding hers was strong and manly, and she imagined it cradling kittens and stirring casseroles.
He sat her in the big leather chair and placed himself in another, close by.

It was a long time since Evadne had seen herself properly in a mirror: she was able to do a bit of makeup (that was close-to) but when she pulled clothes on she was unsure of the end result. For this reason, whilst she knew her jeans were on the tight side, she had not given much thought to the jumper. This, as it happened, was also on the tight side, and this elastane-mediated style statement had made an instant impression on Gary “Goggles” the Optician. He has seen her walking slowly and anxiously past the windows, squinting at the sign, turning back and preparing to come in. So her hourglass figure,- buttocks doing battle with denim, and nervously heaving breastolators pumping against wool – was already impressed on his consciousness by the time she sprawled through the doorway.
“A girl with a welcome mat” he had chuckled inwardly as he helped her up. Now she was sat in front of him in the dimly lit room, the soft lighting playing on her cheekbones. It was very quiet, so he could hear what it was playing.

He watched he closely as she looked around, absorbing her blurry surroundings. Then he asked her to relax, and reached forward with a large pair of oculists’ testing spectacles, with adjustable sections and big metal rims to fit an assortment of trial lenses. As he came closer with them, she leaned away, looking worried. “What are they?” she cried, fearing he might be proposing them for her glasses.
“Don’t worry” he said, but he was being distracted by the sight of her, (all soft and breathy, her jumper clinging in a desperate bid to restrain her warm jubblies) and his explanation lacked technical accuracy whilst on another level shedding light on his thoughts:

“Don’t worry” he said, “These are just my oculists’ testicles”
There was a long, meaningful pause.
“I’m guessing he doesn’t work here any more” Evadne replied.
Gary laughed. Evadne laughed. Laughter tends to work like that. And she relaxed, and let him, everso gently, fit the gadget to her head. His soft, firm hands adjusted the earpieces and the width with great attention, and Evadne became aware that she found having her face and hair touched in this way was remarkably erotic.
She had lovely hair, silky and soft: the sort of hair which lifts and moves flatteringly in a light breeze, and is ideal for tossing. A point which had occurred to Gary, who was keen on such things. They both held the moment: he was close and could smell her perfume: he was so close that she could see his nostrils whiffling.

Gary clicked a button on a little remote control device and some letters appeared on a screen on the far side of the room.
“What can you see?” he asked
Evadne looked. She looked and looked. She squinted (rather cutely)
“An N? Or perhaps an H?”
Gary reached into a big tray and deftly slotted two lenses into the frame Evadne was wearing.
“Now?” he asked, his voice resonant with masculinity
There was an urgency in that question which set Evadne’s heart beating. “Oh gosh! I can see it’s an M!” she exclaimed

He put a black disk into one side and then for the next few minutes Gary was flipping lenses in and out of the frames, asking “Is that better? Or worse?”
After a while they reached a joint decision for both eyes. Then he swung a huge machine across in front of Evadne and whispered “Rest your chin there. Press your forehead here, and keep very still while I look into your eyes”
Evadne did so, enjoying his quiet strength. She held the position well, leaning forward, and Gary spent a few delicious moments looking at her chest pressing eagerly towards him. But her eyes would not wait forever: he returned to his measurements, complimenting her on her retinas.

Finally he had taken all the measurements he needed. Evadne got the chance to see him in focus, – albeit whilst she was looking through the huge adjusted frames. She got a shock, but it was a very nice one which travelled through her body to its natural focus deep within the tight jeans. He was very handsome, with chiselled features suggesting his father was a dab hand with a chisel.
He had the sort of jaw which can set as required in a crisis, and brown eyes with long lashes. There were other bits too – all the ones necessary to keep the jaw and eyes in the correct relative positions, but it was these features which caught Evadne’s now-roving eyes. Then he smiled, and she added “lips” to the list.
“Wow!” she said innocently, and then blushed. She hurriedly added “I can see you in focus!”
But they both knew what she had meant, as clearly as if it was written up on the eye chart.

“You’ll need to choose some frames next” he said
“How will I see what they look like?” she asked
“I’ll help you” he said, adding that he thought she would look fabulous in any. She turned slowly towards him, looking meltingly at him through the big lenses “Even in these ocular testicles?” she asked
Gary laughed, and assured her that Yes, she did. The he lifted them oh so gently off her, reducing her surroundings to a rosy haze, brushing her cheeks and hair with those strong hands we mentioned before. Evadne shivered, or shuddered (depending on your preference)and leaned closer – so that she could still see him.
“I hadn’t realised how vulnerable I was feeling” she explained
“Don’t worry” said Gary, though his hand trembled a little as he put the equipment away.
“There’s no hurry to go yet – as I said I have no more appointments for ages. I’ve just got to get my stuff sorted out”
“Me too” Evadne replied, wriggling a little in the big leather chair “Go ahead.” she giggled “Don’t mind me…I mean I can’t see anyway!”
Gary slid his chair up close to hers, and murmured into her hair “I’m so familiar with it, I can do it by feel”
Evadne, her own adjustments as yet incomplete, whispered back “Or I could help?”

She could, for with her poor eyesight she was also very accustomed to doing things by feel. It is a system which has worked down the centuries, and it certainly worked here in the rosy glow of the examination room, with its ample leather chair, her ample bosomage, his chiselled jaw, that jumper…. She had been flustered by the compliment to her retinas, (no-one had ever said that before) but when Gary began to gaze deeply into her eyes without the intervention of gadgets, the moment was so intense as to do what intense moments do: Clothing is a distraction at such times; Quite soon Evadne was gazing in the direction of the eye chart and crying out….but “O! O! O!” were not the letters on the screen.
Somehow that didn’t matter. The oculists’ testicles had prevailed

Morwenna helps out

Jumble sales are less common than they used to be: displaced by American invaders like car boot sales, and modern innovations like eBay. However in the village of Gowainer-cum-Quickley the old traditions survived. Morwenna valued that, so she always helped at the village jumble sale – also because she got to have first dibs at the bags of donations. This not only satisfied the scavenger in her, but gave her an insight into the private lives of her neighbours. She relished the memory of opening a bag donated by the intimidating Mrs Pomphrey, massively-be-titted incumbent of the old blacksmith’s house. Inside she found some rather striking black undergarments which an experienced eye could discern as bras, but to the untrained might easily be mistaken for surgical supports – or possibly sophisticated bondage equipment. After that Mrs Pomphrey and her cantilevered bazoompas seemed a lot less scary. Indeed, Morwenna amused herself by thinking of Mrs Pomphrey, whose husband looked as though his wife’s terrifying chuffas had sucked the life out of him, being banged on the anvil.

Mrs Pomphrey’s husband was not a blacksmith; there had not been one of those in Gowainer-cum-Quickley for many years. Which is a shame because every village needs a young man who can legitimately be stripped to the waist and flexing his oiled muscles for the delight of the local women. This was probably what had been missing from Morwenna’s life.

At any rate she was busy at the village hall, opening bags and boxes of donations, sorting them for the various stalls and generally helping with preparation of the tea & coffee service, Guess the Weights of the Tits stall (run as an educational project by the local birdwatchers)and the Lucky Dip. She was a good all-rounder and was always being called here and there to help; one minute she was rifling through some men’s underwear, the next she was required to set out the refreshments attractively – it was generally accepted that no-one knew how to show buns off to advantage like Morwenna.

There were a variety of other traditional stalls too, as befits a jumble sale.

Into the middle of this bustle strode a man lugging a massive package. This was a most welcome sight to Morwenna on a number of levels; he was a new face (and a very handsome one) and these are always welcome, and also any young man with a massive package will find himself popular on such an occasion. He told them that he had just moved into the village and in the process of settling in had also done some de-cluttering.
Morwenna rushed over with almost unseemly haste to check out his package. It was very full and looked extremely promising. She gave it a squeeze
“Anything fragile in here?” she asked
“Not really” he assured her, noting her breathy excitement. “This seems like a very….broadminded village”
He tilted his head in the direction of the birdwatching society’s stall. Mrs Pomphrey (patron of the local branch) was standing beneath the banner announcing Guess the Weight of the Tits. Morwenna giggled, and explained that it was part of an educational drive. This came as a relief to the young man, who had also been rather concerned by a poster nearby headed “Tit identification guide”. He had worried about the need for that…

“Let’s see what you’ve got in there” Morwenna said, eyeing his large bag, and they set about unpacking it together. As they did so their eyes met again and again, becoming close friends in the process, even swapping recipes and adding each other to Christmas card lists.
Whilst their eyes were engaged on this innocent adventure, their loins were longing to become engaged more directly. Morwenna began to stop thinking about an imaginary blacksmith with a leather apron offering protection from his red hot tool, and instead consider that this newcomer might have something to offer. He had a neat clipped beard, chiselled cheekbones and soft curly brown hair.
After a while he suddenly looked at her directly and said “I’m so sorry: I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Sean”
Morwenna smiled broadly (she was, after all, a broad) and said “No, you’re not!”
He looked confused. They were leaning quite close together. She, emboldened by the exchange of recipes etc reached out and gently touched his bearded jaw. “You’re not shorn at all!” she laughed, with a sound like the tinkling of a lady having a tinkle.
Sean laughed too. “You’re right” he said, stroking his beard thoughtfully, though not as thoughtfully as Morwenna at that moment. She had no experience of facially hirsute men and had been been considering whether various sorts of curly hair could become dangerously entangled in certain situations.
“And what’s your name?” Sean asked. “Morwenna” she answered – that was an easy question.
“Very pretty” said Sean, leaving the ambiguity of his answer hanging in the air like a helium balloon.

She was very pretty, he thought. Her face was pink cheeked (he did not realise why at this time) with pouty lips and the sort of cheekbones one generally found on a cat. “Cute pussy” he thought to himself.
They sorted through the contents of his bag, Morwenna taking things to the various appropriate tables (men’s clothing, games, books, white elephant and so on) and eventually near the bottom there was a large, heavy carrier bag. “Old sheets” he explained. “I thought maybe someone could use them as decorating cloths – you know, to put over the furniture when you’re painting…” his voice trailed off in slight awkwardness.
“Were they off your bed?” asked Morwenna, an urgent curiosity arising in her.
“Yes. I really don’t know if they’re suitable for a jumble sale…They’re a bit marked, you know, where I’ve spilt my stuff on them. ”
Morwenna raised her eyebrows at him

Right at the very bottom of the bag she saw some shiny fabric, which she pounced on. “What’s this?” she asked, tugging away. “Steady. Don’t pull too hard!” Sean cried, helping her out with it. “This is a dress my sister donated. She was coming over and I told her you were having a jumble sale so she brought this”
Morwenna was thrilled; this was why she liked to help out – because of finds like this. “It looks lovely!” she exclaimed “Do you mind if I try it on myself?”
“I’ll put some money in the box for it if I like it” she added, not wishing to appear mean

“Oh yes, do!” Sean exclaimed, adding “It’s a perfect colour for you”
Morwenna scooped up the dress and hurried off to the corner of the hall, where a door led into a side room that had a notice taped on it saying CHANGING ROOM, and another on a string which had VACANT on one side and IN USE on the other. Sean followed her, curious, and waited by the door. Morwenna slipped into the makeshift changing room (a committee room which had been cleared of chairs, and with a long mirror leaning against the wall)There she peeled off her jeans and jumper, and (because it was a dress) her socks too. The dress slipped down over her, clinging to her clingaceaus curves like an octopusean lover. But when she reached behind her she found she was unable to do up the zip. It was tricksy and stuck part way up.

She felt, therefore, completely justified in calling out quietly to Sean, to tell him of this problem. “My sister said something about that…do you need a hand?”
“Yes please” Morwenna replied, and moments later Sean had slipped in through the door. His eyes feasted on the spectacle before him. The dress, which was of a stretchy, shiny fabric, was just a little bit too tight for Morwenna. or, to put it another way, a perfect fit. She was wriggling herself into it, doing that thing women do where they rub their hands over their waist and hips, at once smoothing the fabric over THEIR bodies and disarranging the fabric over the bodies of nearby men. Sean felt himself disarranging as he watched.
“It’s a bit tight” she said. Sean shook his head without thinking. “Let me have a look”
He looked. Indeed he could not help it. He looked at the shiny shape of her hips and thighs, and then up at how terribly tight the dress was further up. That was where the real struggle was going on, with Morwenna’s perfectly stacked fruity baps threatening to spill out of the top, cherries and all.
“Turn round and I’ll do the zip” he said. Morwenna turned, saying “I’m not sure it will go, it’s so tight”
She turned, and Sean had the benefit of her shinily bound buttocks rotating gently before him, causing dangerous levels of further disarrangement. The top half of the zip was open, Morwenna’s black bra strap visible in the gap. He took hold of the zip tag and, steadying himself by putting a bracing hand on her lower back, began to tug. It was jammed. He tried again.
“Are you giving it a good tug?” She asked.
“Not at the moment – I’m trying to get the zip to move” he replied.
“I’ll hold the top of the zip together, see if that helps”
He gripped the gaping sides of the dress with one hand, squeezing them together, an action which inadvertently caused Morwenna’s bra hooks to come undone.
“Oh no!” she cried, unconvincingly. “Now look what has happened!” she turned round to face him, the terrible damage very evident as her volumpties spilled out like the tide bursting through a wall of sand on a beach.
With admirable speed Sean flipped the sign on the door from “VACANT” to “IN USE” and prepared to deal with the situation.

The zip was indeed stuck he confirmed. It would go down, with help, but not up. There was nothing for it: he would have to help her out of the dress completely, and he was up for that.
Together they extricated Morwenna from the entrapment of the dress, sliding it down over her hips. The zip would not go right down so it was a struggle, and took her teensyweensy underthings with it as it went. Sean apologised, though it turned out that was unnecessary as Morwenna was glad to be out of them anyway.

A short queue formed outside the changing room for a while. But those at the front of it reported that they feared it had been closed due to a plumbing leak or some such, as they had heard some odd noises.

It was a very successful jumble sale, much was raised, especially in Sean’s manly department.
He correctly identified the Tits, and was soon able to guess the weight of each one quite accurately.
He had been wondering about having a go a Whack the Rat, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to as Morwenna was ready with her famous refreshments, which lived up to all expectations. And the question of whether assorted kinds of curly hair can sometimes get entangled was resolved to mutual satisfaction by thorough experimentation.