Backshot Kings Ep. 02

"Got it ma'am." Marvin went to work collecting some of the flimsy boxes noticing a latent acrid smell coming from a few stained ones, as Mrs. Fisher leaned against the wall facing him favoring the keychain between both hands, pensive. He was left with no other choice but to place the boxes outside the door making two trips before the large office-sized copy machine was revealed.

"Miss Haney's son donated that nice machine fifteen years ago and serviced it for a while until he realized my daughter wasn't going to give him her phone number. Then we uh, found somebody to step into that role. It takes a good minute to uhm, boot up after you plug it in, boy."

Marvin found the machine heavier than it looked, finding some difficulty moving it at an angle scratching up the worn hardwood floor. The copier was so heavy, it left a deep impression damaging the wood underneath. The cord was frayed, wrapped with layers of electrical tape which gave him pause. Soon, the machine started to hum, coming to life as he lifted the top of it, finding the glass dusty. He found a rag wiping it clean.

"Uhm, about that thing you asked me downstairs; I really didn't feel comfortable answering your question. Yes uh, I hate to say it, but that question took me back a way, Marvin."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Fisher; I didn't mean to...."

"No, it's okay I'm fine now and I want to tell on myself for once in my life, if you'll give me a few more minutes of your time, boy. It's not easy for me discussing these matters because I'm used to being the one hearing them, Marvin. I hope I can get your ear stretched out for a few minutes more, if you don't mind because I don't think I'll have anyone to talk to for a while."

"How about your daughter?"

"That's off the table for the foreseeable future; we don't talk anymore. Uh, what we have as mother and daughter is well, complicated. It's gonna take that machine a good ten minutes or more to be ready because it's so old. The repair guy said it was a phased-out model, I think. Can I finish my tale, Marvin?"

"Okay, Mrs. Fisher." She seemed in need of clearing her conscience crossing her arms over her chest, drawing the beige sweater tight about her shoulders looking away into the adjacent office, intently.

"Well, I'll tell you that I couldn't get that serpent outta my garden before she had her run of the place. The world was her oyster and she'd solidified things by drawing out my pastor's mannish lust. It felt like some dirty secret between them that I had the misfortune of discovering and then, it felt like a trap. She was taking everything away. Everything I worked so hard to achieve in this church, for decades. Everyone was going to her even though I was the senior elder and she rubbed that fat tail of hers in my face; laughed because I knew that my good pastor, was simply a man. I couldn't get over it."

"What happened?"

"I wanted to do something back; hurt her like she hurt me, understand? Just wanted a win, and I was willing to compromise my faith to do it. I was watching everything I worked my fingers bloody, slip away. It wasn't the church I remembered anymore and now it was going through a boom period while I was being mothballed. Everybody was forgetting that rich history and sense of community over a handsome silver-tongued devil who could pack the first three rows of this church full of sinful women of all ages."

"Mrs. Fisher?"

"Sinful minded women, and lots of young people who liked that he played streetball with the gangbangers while having prayer meetings with the local old folk. Shit, it felt like this devil was running for public office, and he was...sort of. Marvin. Now, I had a mind to do something about it but couldn't quantify it in my head. Then, I figured I'd deal that charcoaled heifer a blow to the ego the same way she did me. You see, she'd started referring to me around here as grandma, getting people to start saying it as well. Like I was some old broken-down model while she was the new and improved version!"

Marvin watched her press her palm to her mouth hiding it from view, tortured inside as she continued.

"I'd just about talked myself out of it when I found a box of depends on my desk. They were there expecting me to get all twisted up, maybe run out of there from their laughter; but I didn't, Marvin. I stood there looking that serpent dead in the eye until her master got between us with that silver forked tongue smoothing things over. She was so damn self-assured thinking she was queen of the world. I wanted to knock her down a peg. Wanted to knock her down a few pegs, maybe even to hell itself."

The copy machine roared to life interrupting the inevitable reveal. Mrs. Fisher gestured towards it watching as I carefully planted the wrinkled paper on the glass figuring out the settings.

"I went to him."

'Huh?' He replied, finding the correct settings on the old machine pushing the right buttons on the panel.

"My mother used to use that hickory switch on my hide non-stop when I started becoming a woman where you couldn't exactly hide it. She bundled me up in oversized dresses and put a bible in my hands enforcing the scripture on me until it stuck. I wasn't allowed to associate with boys. I wasn't allowed to date until I left home for college, but there were some uh, bumps in the road along the way. Years later, after her death, I did the same for my daughter, Tressie. But she broke those chains a while ago, Marvin. I guess I just wasn't strong enough when it counted, and I've paid the price for it with everything I had."

A smooth copy of the invoice emerged from the machine, heated to the touch.

"I went to him like this." Mrs. Fisher said as he pulled the copy from the tray inspecting it, before turning in the direction of her voice.

"Uhm, what...okay." Time ebbed to a halt in the small church office.

There was a zipper on the front of the cheap dress covering her body. It was halfway down her belly and still traveling exposing the skin underneath that matched her daughter's own rich tone, albeit a slight bit ashen and off color with age. That zipper kept traveling downward until it slipped out of her fingers, but continued its path as she grabbed the opposing halves of her dress letting her bounty do the rest. That beige sweater serving as a on the fly shawl was meant for more; namely hiding much more than anyone would've suspected looking at Mrs. Fisher's stern, authoritative features and hard cheekbones.

"I went to him like this and let him take me, Marvin." His gaze was trained on a single line.

That line informed a staggering cleavage sprinkled with tiny freckles as he took in the fact Mrs. Fisher had a bust almost as big as her torso, with a semi-flat stomach barely visible tucked away behind her breasts. Marvin froze in place unable to find words for the sight before his brown eyes realizing her dress was parted by the sheer weight of her breasts. They were full, bulging outward like rising yeast long, but not pendulous. At the bottom of this cleavage was this conical brassiere enhancing the visual with a plunging neckline that mashed those tits together into a monstrosity of cleavage.

"He took me, in here; for hours, almost a whole week of messing about getting mannish with me, over and over again, Marvin. I got him to show me his true nature; got that dark pastor to take off his mask to lie in that bed over there with me. He took me like an animal and filled me with his corruption."

His mouth hung open staring as some tiny bloomer styled panties came into view molded tight enough to these baby making hips, that it appeared they would burst at the seams with any sudden movement.

Mrs. Fisher had a perfect hourglass body, albeit distinctly top heavy in the worst way.

"I'm coming to you Marvin; will you take me to his bed?"

The beige sweater hit the floor behind her heels. Mrs. Fisher let the simple cotton frock slide off her shoulders following the sweater she'd been using as a security blanket for years outside of her frumpy church uniform. Marvin went glassy eyed staring as her thick curvy body came into full view in underwear too small to contain her abundance. Mrs. Fisher's nostrils flared; heavy breathing audible.

"I've only had full relations with three men in my entire life; but truth be told, there were plenty of times I wanted to go running off in the fields with a young man or two. Plenty of times I wanted to be treated like a woman, but my mother wouldn't allow it. She policed my body and programmed my mind for the church, then I found out I was living a lie. I want to be a woman, just one more time if nothing else, Marvin." The melancholy nature of her voice intermingled with the visual made it awkward.

"Oh Mrs. Fisher, I don't know..." His body betrayed him while he spoke the expected words becoming a noticeable bar of flesh made steel. This woman was old enough to be his mother, maybe grandmother.

Her body flew in the face of all logic for a woman of her age. It was a body that could stop traffic.

"I-wouldn't have asked if I didn't see you looking; it gave me the courage to speak on it, Marvin. I want to be a woman with you and slake my lusts for once. A lot of menfolk used to bother me something fierce before my mother hid me under all those frumpy, oversized dresses. Just to walk and play with a young man in that field again...then I had Tressie, and responsibilities. I had the church. Now it's gone."

His heart was thumping at the sight of her burgeoning curves and desperation born out of decades of self-neglect. His prick was so hard, it hurt. Thoughts of his girlfriend started to fade away like melted butter as the mature elder timidly took a step in his direction, demurely looking at her feet.

"Mrs. Fisher, I don't... Mrs. Fisher, what do you want, ma'am." She looked up into his face, while the hard edges and defined cheekbones of hers softened.

"I want you to fuck me." She sounded ashamed making her request barely above a whisper.

Before he realized it, she'd leaned in close pressing herself into his body, hiding her countenance from view in his chest. Marvin towered over her at six two and a half, glancing down into her sparse salt and pepper hair which ended just below her ears in vintage swirls that lent itself to her modest presentation in front of the public. His hands slowly handled her biceps unsure what to do next, suddenly feeling her gently handle his package. Her fingers grazed it timidly, then returned more forceful squeezing, groping. After a few moments, she handled his package exploring. His coveralls prevented her from going further.

"Touch me, like a woman; I want to be held and touched." Mrs. Fisher was speaking softly, wetly in the silence of the pastor's office. The hum of the copier permeated the room along with a labored breathing that spoke to her innate excitement at the prospect of being with this much younger man, old enough to be her son. She captured his thumbs drawing his hands up to the undersides of her pneumatic breasts grazing the outsides with his digits. Mrs. Fisher puppeted his hands pushing into the sides of her large tits softly mashing them together making her cleavage bulge, decadently. They were big, real big.

Marvin found his hands moving of their own accord tugging at the straps holding the bra tight, yet haphazardly to her chest. He pinched a strap working it off her left shoulder exposing a reddened indentation in her fleshy shoulder that looked painful. It was an inditement of the weight of her large breasts, too good to pass up as he leaned down planting a kiss there. His tongue darted out lapping at that indentation like an animal trying to soothe another. It was a way of avoiding a kiss she so desperately wanted, despite the taboo nature of their disparate ages. Marvin suckled her bruise.

His fingers pinched into the material, sliding the other tightened bra strap down clearing her opposite shoulder. Mrs. Fisher looked down into her blossoming decolletage, then deep into his brown eyes before reaching up with both hands peeling the rigid cups halfway off her large breasts. He was given a salacious glimpse of her plate sized areolas teasing an appearance as she moved his hands blanketing her mams. His mind was running conflicted unable to make sense of the situation he found himself in with this troubled woman who'd fallen from grace. Her hands were smaller, covering his larger ones.

"Touch them, like a man would who wants a woman, please."

Something welled up inside as his hands became primitive claws grabbing big selfish handfuls of her tits, squeezing them heartily. This opened a door for both as he fondled and cupped her offerings marveling at their weight and buoyancy for a much older woman. Still, he felt conflicted as if his mother were watching disparagingly with a belt at the ready. Mrs. Fisher's bust was defiant to his tactile overtures resilient to the end as both started breathing even more heavily. His focus remained on the exposed wealth of cleavage noticing the slightly chalky nature of her skin and these tiny little beauty marks and spots the same color as her partially exposed areolas. Mrs. Fisher's arms were folded behind, working.

"Oh, uhm...wow." The stiff, vintage brassiere came away from her chest in his large hands looking like utilitarian butterfly wings. The molded cups retained their shape bolstered by an underwire framework.

Marvin was presented with the full unfettered view of Mrs. Fisher's breasts that sloped outward horizontally wider than they appeared, pendulous, but spongy like a much younger woman. They were nearly as conical as the brassiere formerly covering them topped with these equally conical looking puffed-up areolas that were comparable in size to saucers. They were these small pyramids atop her breasts each topped with a prominent blocky nipple. Marvin cupped them from underneath, raising them feeling the inviting warmth from her body. Mrs. Fisher's eyes fluttered under his attention.

"You can do whatever you want in here; treat me like a woman, please Marvin."

He buried his face in her cleavage, rubbing and luxuriating sucking hard on her teats nibbling the rubbery nips, sucking hard instantly making a mess of things. A loud wailing moan escaped her filling the room followed by whimpers as he feasted, slurping and licking each breast still squeezing and groping. Marvin locked lips on a nip with this watery slurp, twirling his tongue on it, utterly enthralled. His breathing became progressively labored as he slathered spit everywhere, even lapping her breastbone.

The late fiftysomething wasn't passive in the least with a hand firmly planted between his thighs massaging his balls, tracing the outline of his manhood finding that he was more than equipped to quench her lust. Things were getting so heated, the former church elder considered tearing a hole in his coveralls to get what she wanted. Both jostled sexually fondling, groping and grinding as she raised a leg caressing the outside of his thigh, now excessively horny. Marvin was lost in her lush mams which now glistened under the sterile lighting of the abandoned pastor's office.

His hands went to her sides sliding down finding a small waist and the beginnings of some widened hips. Mrs. Fisher was now using both hands, intently getting her perv on when Marvin pulled her roughly into his body grabbing her buttocks, surprised at their fullness. Few people outside of her tight circle knew Mrs. Fisher was the much thicker mold from which her beloved daughter Tressie was cast. It may have provided the impetus for her desperate actions that set the doomsday clock ticking regarding the shelf life of her church. Her young afternoon lover dipped at the knees digging his nails into the cheeks.

Mrs. Fisher panicked for an instant, wrapping her legs around his waist as he planted her on the edge of the oak desk she'd coveted for decades. The power in his youthful biceps was apparent as she was carefully planted on the desk resulting in a pronounced rubbery jiggle of her big tits. His shaking hands went after the slightly ruffled panties covering her sex. Mrs. Fisher leaned back supporting her weight on flattened palms watching excited, but mute other than her labored breathing as her sex was laid bare. Marvin found a perfect triangular patch of nappy curls pointing to her snatch like some symbolic arrowhead. He didn't hesitate using his thumbs to pry open the entrance to her honey pot.

An intense jolt of sexual lightning shot through her loins giving rise to goosebumps, making her head dip backward as if it would fall from her shoulders. His technique was decidedly very gentle starting with a poke inside with the tip of his tongue as a loving probiscis. The swirling made her shiver and cup a breast pinching the nipple when he started in on her clit sucking on it until the pea emerged from its bashful hood. Marvin locked his lips on it licking and sucking with increasingly audible slurps making her cry out in this shrill whine that carried, along with some sweet nothings under her labored breath.

His tongue came into play darting inside her in a way he'd never pleasured a woman before. The first time Marvin ever went down on a woman came at the end of an epic struggle with her dumping him out of spite afterwards. He retaliated by sleeping with her chunky cousin sending her a tape of him getting topped off to "Petty Too" by Lil Dirk. Things went back and forth before he blew the backs of both women out one after the other before catching a case and sitting behind bars for six months. Neither came to visit, but popped up after he was exonerated when the true perp was finally arrested.

"It feels, incredible, oh lord I never knew it could feel this good with a man's mouth on me." Mrs. Fisher laid flat on the desk cupping her large breasts, mauling them as the sensations overtook her while he made a meal out of her snatch licking and slurping, paying attention to her budding clit. She reached down with both hands using her fingers to spread her labia apart allowing him to eat to his heart's content. She arched into his mouth twisting and undulating suddenly cupping the back of his head.

Marvin went on pure instinct bringing his hands up to the outside of her thighs, squeezing and caressing them making this religious MILF squirm and wriggle about before hooking her legs over his shoulders. Something about her was different besides the awesome showstopping figure that easily outclassed his girlfriend. He wanted to please this woman who'd denied herself much while chasing a fading dream stolen away by others. Mrs. Fisher's hand appeared feverishly rubbing herself in tandem with his efforts as she began to crest with a sustained hollow sounding moan that made his cock thump and throb.

Her wriggling became so intense, Marvin was obliged to grab her ankles firmly sensing she was right at the edge. She became a bucking bronco humping into his mouth with that nail on a chalkboard whine. It was akin to handling a wet squirming fish as her butt swished horizontally. His big hands framed the sides of her slit sucking and slurping wildly. Mrs. Fisher was truly fucking his face, humping frenetically.

"AAAHHH!! AAAAHHHH!! AH FEELS IT!! AH, GOTS A FEELING DOWN THERE!! AW!! I'M CUMMING!!" Mrs. Fisher's holiest of holies came slamming up into his face with her butt arching, hard shivering.

This lasted for an instant as her stomach turned flip flops making the neglected mature draw her knees into her abdomen protectively covering her snatch with a hand, rubbing. Marvin went to remove the hand, but she begged off with both legs shifting to the side. He stood up palming her inner thighs, starting to spread them huffing and panting, lost in the moment. They jostled a little before she parted both hands exposing herself, gasping.