Searching for Mummy Pt. 02

Part 2 Yvonne

It took some time for me to find another Mummy, but eventually I found Yvonne, a big and very buxom lady who had modelled for the sort of magazines that catered for men obsessed with very large breasts. Well, that would be me then. Some of her pictures are still out there on the internet, but they are all old. I don't know precisely how long it had been since she had last done a photo shoot, or whether it was merely that the photographers art had managed to make her look younger than her actual age, but I felt, however un-gallantly, that she had filled out just a bit since those pictures were taken and there might have been just one or two of what may best be described as laughter lines in her face. Howsoever that may have been, and I really am not complaining, her breasts were nothing less than magnificent. Really big, but also really firm, jutting out from her chest almost like airships, only the weight of them dragging them to the most pleasing of downward angles, and her skin was so fair and white, you could see the blood vessels through the skin, like fine blue threads. The really large areolas around the nipples were a light soft brown and the nipples themselves thick and a darker brown. The first time I saw her ( and every subsequent time, since she never quite remembered who I was, or if she did, she couldn't remember what it was I wanted) she received me sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in a tight jumper and a short skirt. I had to haltingly and somewhat nervously explain what I was after. I find these things quite easy to write about, but almost too difficult to actually speak, and she was initially concerned that I was some sort of virgin. However, when she thought she understood me, she told me to stay in the room we were in and get undressed, while she got changed elsewhere.

Already, I felt this would be nothing like I had enjoyed with Alice, with whom I had so enjoyed gently unzipping her dress and unhooking her bra before kneeling in front of her and taking off her shoes and stockings and voluminous knickers , heavy with the scent of her always damp private parts. However, these thoughts were banished when, after I had got undressed and sat nervously naked in an armchair, Yvonne re-entered the room topless, giving me my first view of those amazing breasts as previously described, and clad only in the sort of corset that provided no support to them, but had suspenders to which she had attached sheer back stockings with seams up the back, thus accentuating her bare behind, since she had dispensed with knickers as well. I couldn't help but gasp. She stood over me, her nipples right in front of my face.

"Well, little boy, have you been good?"

"Yes, Mummy," I answered, but I still wasn't sure whether this was what I wanted and nor was my penis, still disinterestedly limp.

"If you have been good," she said "Mummy will let you suck. But do you know what will happen if you have not been good?"

"No, Mummy."

"Mummy will spank you. Hard." My treacherous member started to swell up at this point, and she took that for a vote in favour of spanking.

"I think you have been bad."

"Oh no, Mummy"

"Oh yes!" she said, and she yanked me out of my seated position so that I was standing, then tucked me under one arm so that I was bending forward, and held me there- she was strong- and really hit my poor bottom hard with the flat of her hand, repeatedly. To be honest, this was not the first time I had been spanked, but this was much harder than anything I had experienced in the past, and it really hurt. I yelled, my eyes certainly watered and it might be said I cried. She had such a grip on me ( I had not suspected she could be that strong- even though I accept I am not much of a physical specimen, I was taller than her even though she was wearing heels) and I was so overwhelmed by the feeling of being crushed into her side while her palm and fingers landed repeatedly on my soft bum cheeks, that by the time I became aware that I might actually be shedding tears, it was over. The whole thing had probably lasted less than a minute, but my backside was on fire, I felt I might collapse if she let go of me, and I couldn't stop making a silly noise.

"Oh, there, there!" she cooed "Stop making that noise now."

She let go of me just enough to pull me around to her front and push my face into her cleavage. I tried to stop vocalising, and to get my breath, but it was hard, and my bum felt like I had sat on an oven. If anything, I felt I was going to cry more now she had stopped and my face was enveloped by her beautiful breasts. I became aware that my stupid penis was now completely rigid and in some part of my mind I was angry at how far outside my control it was.

In some clumsy way, without moving my face , she manoeuvred us both back to the bed, and we arranged ourselves so she could put a nipple in my mouth. This was heaven. My bum still hurt,my face was wet and she really had reduced me to being a stupid tearful little boy. I could do nothing but suck, and I did. This wasn't the same sort of nursing as I had experienced with Alice. At her breast I had opened my mouth wider to suck right over the nipple area , so that the nipple itself was up against the roof of my mouth. With Yvonne, I sucked hard at the nipple in a way that it is perhaps more overtly sexual, because that was what she seemed to want, whereas Alice, possibly by having actual experience of breastfeeding, moved my mouth to how she wanted it and gently entreated me to suck harder. Yvonne sighed and cuddled me tighter to her the more I sucked her nipple itself, so I kept on doing it, and after a while my bum hurt a little less, and she moved me over to her other breast and played with the nipple I had stopped sucking with her free hand, lying with her head back, her eyes closed and her mouth just slightly open, breathing in long heavy sighs.

After long minutes like this, she gently pulled her breast away, and smiled down at me.

"Are you going to make Mummy feel nice now?" she asked.

I needed no further prompting to move down the bed and placed my head between her thighs. My bum was no more than distant glow now, but I was very ready to obey her without any further indecision. Tentatively, I licked her lips, but that was the wrong thing to do.

"You pathetic little boy, lick me properly!" she growled. I put my tongue straight on her clit, and was rewarded with a throaty moan.

"Oh! Better! Good boy!"

I licked her rapidly and as hard as I knew how, but I could sense she was still impatient. After a a few more minutes, she pushed my head out of the way, reached down and pushed her fingers into herself with one hand and frigged herself with the other. I could only watch helplessly as she came, with much heavy breathing and long moans. There was a minute or so silence, while I just revelled in the sight of her lying there with her hands in and on herself, her enormous breasts pushed upwards by her arms, erect nipples pointing at the ceiling, her eyes closed and her shoulder length brown hair, so neatly brushed before we started, lying in some disarray on the pillow.

Do working girls really have orgasms with their clients? In my experience, they do. Yvonne was putting on a show for me, I accept- but it didn't involve acting; or, if it did, she need not be have been doing that line of work at all as surely a brilliant career in T V or films awaited her.

With a sigh, she got up and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Kneel here," she said pointing at a spot on the carpet in front of her knees and slightly to her right. Like a good boy I did just that.

"Show me your pathetic little dick." she said.

I reached for my penis, still hard but, as she had amply demonstrated, utterly useless to her, and lifted it up a bit, so she could see how stiff I was. With a very light touch of one hand, she caressed it for a second or two, causing me to gasp with pleasure, and smiled.

"You silly little boy. Do you think I am going to pull it off for you?"

"No Mummy." I said.

"You are going to have to show me how you do it, aren't you?"

"Yes Mummy."

"Are you going to wank your little thing for me? Show me how you do it when you haven't got a Mummy to supervise you?"

"I want to do what you want Mummy. I want to be a good boy."

"Right then. Ask me nicely, and I will let you suck on this luscious nipple..." here she lifted up the breast nearest to me and ran her left hand idly over the length of it and then pulled her nipple just a little more erect " ..and supervise you pumping your little boys useless spunk out for my pleasure."

"Oh thank you Mummy."

Trust me, at that moment, I really was grateful.

"Please may I nurse and be supervised in wanking myself empty, please?"

"I think you can. But I don't want you to get any mess on the carpet." Here, she reached over to a bedside cabinet and produced a saucer, which hitherto might have been used as an ash tray. She put it in my left hand, then she gently lifted her breast to put the nipple in reach of my mouth, and I inclined my head to enclose it with my lips and tongue.

"Now, suck and wank yourself off, like the pathetic little thing you are. Make sure you put all your mess in that saucer."

I wanked myself as carefully as I could, and sucked her nipple tenderly, knowing it would be the last time I would be allowed it for that day. She encouraged me by saying ' That's right!' and ' Good Boy!' at odd intervals. Eventually, I felt myself starting to come and took her nipple into my mouth as far as I could, and pointed my swollen glans at the saucer I was holding. My cum shot out in lumpy loads, and I grunted with pleasure, before I let go of her nipple with a long sigh.

"Was that good? What do you say to Mummy?"

"Thank you Mummy"

"What for?"

"Thank you Mummy for supervising me and letting me come"

"Good boy. Now take all that muck with you upstairs, put it down the loo, and wash your silly thing and make sure its clean."

As with everything else, I did exactly as she said, and returned to the room to find her still sitting on the edge of the bed. I could not help but look at her lovely breasts again, but she noticed my gaze, and told me I could get dressed.

As I did so, she asked "Was that good?"

"Yes, very good, thank you."

"I enjoy playing with submissive men. In fact, it's my favourite thing in this job."

"I noticed you were having a good time." I said.

"How are you getting back?" she asked.

"On the train."

"Well, when you are on the train and thinking about the lovely time we have had, I shall be wanking myself off again. Think about that."

Did she? Or was saying that all part of the show? I don't know. When I did get outside, I looked at my watch and noted that I had had the time I had paid for more or less exactly, yet to my notice she had never looked at a watch- she wasn't even wearing one. I had to admire her professionalism. That was the real difference in the experiences I had had. Alice charged for her time but was very free with it, and when you were with her, she was basically herself. Yvonne, was a skilled professional who charged for realising your fantasies.

I debated with myself for some time about visiting Yvonne again, but in the end , it was no contest. I knew perfectly well I wanted her to spank me really, even though it hurt a lot, and that when she told me how pathetic and useless I was, I actually felt good about that. You, reader, may think I should have gone back for some more therapy, but honestly, the pleasure it all gave me and the difference to my mood it made, surely made a session with Yvonne the best kind of therapy.

Nor was it always the same in subsequent sessions. Admittedly, I had the difficulty I have already mentioned about how she didn't seem to remember anything about the last time whenever I visited, so I had to ask to be treated like a little boy and call her Mummy every time (maybe it was part of the humiliation, but I couldn't be certain) but once she started by having me attend her while she took a bath and made me soap all the parts of her that needed soaping, which led to her coming before I had even so much as kissed her nipples, which disconcerted me a bit, but after that and after I had dried her thoroughly we had a very satisfying nursing session, and only then did she find an excuse to spank me. On another occasion she was naked with only a very mumsy sort of housecoat on, which she made me unbutton to expose her breasts. That may have been the session when, for the first time, she let me watch her piss, then took a towel and soaked it in her urine and rubbed it all over my cock and balls. I really enjoyed that. Besides being spanked, she always made sure that I had to wank myself while she watched me, verbally humiliated me as I did it, then made me thank her abjectly afterwards for allowing me the privilege. I loved it.

But one thing I did not love was the phone ringing in the next room. This was a mobile with a distinctive ring- I always assumed it was other punters ringing hopefully, since the convention was that you rang in the morning, and she saw you in the afternoon of that day or another day. But it was a good day if it didn't ring at least once during our time together. For the most part she ignored it, and I tried not to hear it. I know she had an answering system because I had spoken to it once or twice myself. But in one session, the phone rang and she smoothly asked me if I wouldn't mind her answering it because it might be her sister who would be needing a pick up from the airport. I said I didn't mind, of course, but when I thought about it, it was odd since if it had been her sister, and she did need picking up, what was to become of the session I had booked? Of course, it turned out not to be her sister, but indeed it was another punter wanting instant gratification. She got rid of him, resumed her role and on we went. But some months later, the exact same thing happened again, and she asked me the same thing again, and of course, I remembered, whereas, as I already suspected, her memory was poor, and she had forgotten she had done this to me before. Again,it turned out not to be her sister, but I hated the sudden ejection from our fantasy world, and I did not know what the true reason for her answering these calls at these times were, or why she had to make such an absurd excuse.

The third time it happened I said, "I know, it might be your sister who needs picking up from the airport..."

in a fairly deadpan way, which obviously struck home. It ruined the session, for again, it was not the fabled sister,and she was obviously too cross to resume her role properly, and we could not get the atmosphere back. That was the last session we had. I had enjoyed nearly everything we did, she was beautiful and inventive and knew how to excite me very well, but in the end I was just another face in the crowd to her, and on a personal level,we had never got to know each other well enough for her to have any confidence in my discretion if she told me the truth about why on some days, she had to answer that phone. In writing about it, it seems such a small thing now, but it upset me at the time, and I decided to resume my search for the perfect Mummy.