Pussy Charming Pt. 07

What you've missed: I woke up from a coma after a motor cycle crash, to find that my penis could talk, and more than that, when it wanted, it could take control of the rest of me. It was able to sing in a way which it called 'pussy charming' in such a way as to entice nearby females to come and shag me, which it demonstrated for me with a 50 something overweight nurse called Elaine.

After my pussy charming cock continued to provide me with mature, BBW pussy, I started to call it Marlon, because when it was soft it reminded me of Marlon Jackson from the Jackson 5. A nasty encounter with Doris the cleaning lady convinced me that I'd been going wrong lusting after skinny young girls in the past. My recovery continued well, until during an evening session with Elaine the Nurse I asked her whether I'd be able to go home soon. She informed me that first I needed to speak to Dr. McGowan. Elaine had overheard me talking to Marlon several times, and was worried that I was still suffering from my head trauma. She had arranged for me to see Dr. McGowan - the psychiatrist!

Marlon promised me that he wouldn't make me do or say anything bad in front of Dr. McGowan, so that she wouldn't sign my release papers, but I wasn't sure whether I could trust him or not. In the meantime we had a visit from Geraldine the vicar, and Marlon revealed that assholes are good for shagging, but not so good for having a conversation with.

In our meeting with Dr. Julia McGowan she revealed that she knew all about my sexual adventures since awakening from my coma. I came clean, as it were, and told her all about Marlon. She, in turn, revealed that she had her own talking pussy, a German speaking Katherine Hepburn lookalike. I persuaded Julia to discharge me, if you'll pardon the pun, so that Marlon could give her Katherine exactly what she wanted, in the course of which Marlon made me give her such a licking that it severed the connection between Julia and her talking pussy, and returned her to 'normal'. I began to worry what would happen to me if I was ever 'cured'.

Returning to my flat after so many weeks in hospital, I found that my landlady, Mrs. Golightly had let it to a small, seemingly crazy young woman called Cassie Smith, who attacked me with mace. When we called Mrs. Golightly to come and sort it all out for us, I begged Marlon to charm her pussy so that she would give me back my flat. To my surprise Marlon refused, and explained that he couldn't, because both Mrs. Golightly and Cassie Smith were ladies who like ladies. On my urging Marlon improvised a new pussy charming song, which brought the two of them together, and after this they offered me the chance to move back in as Ms. Smith's flatmate.

Surprisingly, Cassie and I started to get on pretty well. So much so that when she asked me what the deal was with me talking to Marlon all the time, I told her the truth. When she didn't believe me, Marlon revealed a few secrets that her pussy had told him. She didn't speak to me for a couple of days. In the interim, I returned to my parents' house, where, in the course of Marlon giving her a good seeing to, their neighbour Mrs. Goody revealed that they had gne off on a cruise on the same day that I had my accident. When Cassie got over her shock, she asked me to teach her how to talk to her pussy. I didn't think that was possible, but Marlon was only too happy to try to prove me wrong

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What followed over the next few days was like some strange, porno version of "My Fair Lady". Sort of. Alright, Marlon was trying to train Cassie to listen to her pussy, and to train her pussy to talk to her in a way she could understand, and instead of reciting

'the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain' they were both trying to say

'de thumb and de cum stay mainly up de bum', but I suppose the principle was the same. Marlon tried to explain it to me when we were alone,

"See, what it is, don't matter for now what her pussy sayin' to her. Could be any shit, don't make no difference. Main thing is, she listenin'. An' the more she listen, the more she gonna hear." And to be fair, within a couple of weeks, she did actually start hearing things. Apparently her pussy had a French accent. What's more, she'd given it a name, Madame Edith.

"Let me guess," I said, "In a certain light she looks like Edith Piaf?"

"Well, actually I meant the old girl from the sitcom 'Allo 'Allo, but sure, Edith Piaf, why not?"

So, recapping for a moment or two, accommodation, my parental situation and everything else seemed to be working out for me, except for one thing. Work. That was one loose end which needed tidying up. So, early in the morning, I waved a cheery goodbye to Cassie, who was sitting on the sofa in the front room with her legs splayed, jabbing her rampant rabbit in and out of Madame Edith, screaming "Je ne regrette rien!" at the top of her voice. As I've said before, she was a sophisticated girl. I sniffed the air, which gave me the idea of picking up a nice piece of fish for tea while I was out.

Going anywhere in public when Marlon had not had any opportunity to indulge himself for more than 24 hours always involved some horse trading.

"Want pussy!"

"Marlon -"

"You hear me, asswipe? Want pussy! Want pussy now!"

"Marlon -"

"Feed me, asshole" He began to sing, "Feed me all night lnnghh - "

The sound became muffled as I grabbed hold of him and squeezed.

"Marlon! Shut up for a moment! Look, I will get you pussy -" I involuntarily let go of my crotch - God, but he was hard to resist when he was horny -

"YOU gonna get ME pussy? Man, you mout' is writing checks which you ain't never gonna be able to cash."

"Alright, " I said, in an attempt to placate him, "I'll rephrase that. Look, I will make no attempt to stop YOU charming up all the pussy you want-"

"Hot damn!"

"-AFTER I've sorted out the work situation. Look, this is for both of us, right? I get work sorted - then you get pussy. Everybody wins. Just don't go charming any pussy until after, okay?"

He wasn't happy, so we nipped into a cubicle in the gents at the bus station, and I took the situation in hand for a bit. I think you know where I'm coming from, right boys?

I don't know if you've ever worked in a Tesco Superstore. There's several good words to describe the experience. Crap is one of the more polite. So it was with a heavy heart that I entered through the automatic doors to find out exactly where I stood, and this feeling of foreboding only increased as I walked through the aisles towards the manager's office. Alright, I didn't recognise every member of staff I passed, but I offered greetings to all those I did. Every single one of them ignored my greeting, and turned their backs on me as if they hadn't seen me.

"Not sure," I whispered to Marlon, " but I don't really think that's a good sign."

I knocked on the office door. Eventually it opened, and a lady stepped out. This was not a lady that I recognised.

"Oh, good morning," I stammered, "I'm sorry, is Graeme Jeffries in today."

She looked at me over the rims of her glasses. Her eyes were brown, flecked with gold.

"Mr. Jeffries has been appointed to a position in our Enfield Branch. I am Dolores Gusset, the store manager. How may I help you?"

"Get yo' fine pussy in ma face!" shouted Marlon, but fortunately the lady couldn't hear him.

"Well, Mrs. Gusset -"

"Ms."

"Well, Ms. Gusset, My name is Jamie Hardcastle. I work here."

"I don't think so." She didn't even look as me as she dismissed what I said,

"Sorry, let me explain. A few months ago I was in a traffic accident. I was in a coma for ages, - I can give you the details of the hospital to confirm it. There was nobody to inform you about the accident, and I've only just come out of hospital, but I'm ready to come back to work now."

"So am I!" screamed Marlon. "Let's go in that love shack o' yours and get busy baby!" I can't be certain, but it's not impossible that Ms. Gusset noticed my bulging crotch moving around. In fact she was lucky it didn't poke her in the eye.

"Well, Mr. . . Hardcastle, this is most irregular. Would you come into the office so we can look at your personnel file?"

"Hot damn yeah!" screamed Marlon. "It's slobbering time!"

In fairness, I could see what he meant. Now, Dolores Gusset might not been the stuff that wet dreams are made of for everyone. For Marlon and me, though, she ticked a lot of boxes. She was short, and top heavy for a start. Recent experience had meant that I'd become something of an expert on extreme tit size. Judging from the fact that even through her blouse I could see that her bra was straining to contain a fine and fulsome pair of fun bags, I guessed she was an F cup size. Big tick. She was the wrong - or in our case, the right side of fifty. Yes, her hair was still long, dark and thick, but there was no hiding the evidence of those crows feet around her eyes. Big tick. When they built her, they didn't spare the materials, and my God, she was wearing a trouser suit! No mistake, this woman would have given me a filthy hard on even before I had the accident. Why fight against the inevitable, I reasoned.

"Marlon," I whispered, "Do your stuff."

Now, before I describe what happen, I think I should explain that what happened next was an accident. Dolores was bending over the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet, searching for my file, and I sat down on the desk so I could get the view of the way her magnificent bottom stretched the seams of her trousers. I'm not an expert on the mysteries of female garments, so I'm not sure what material they were made of, but that ass was like June - bustin' out all over. Now, unbeknownst to me, I sat on the switch for the tannoy. This meant that Marlon's irresistible crooning to Dolores' pussy was broadcast simultaneously across every speaker in the store.

"We have a problem Mr. Hardcastle. " Dolores stood up, turned round, and flopped a file on the desk.According to your file, your employment in this store has been terminated." She undid the top button of her blouse. "If we're going to sort out this mess, then I'm going to have to ask you a few questions. She undid the next button, and revealed more of the tanned flesh of her upper chest, and a dark canyon of mature cleavage.

"Have you been telling me the truth?"

"Yes, Ms. Gusset."

"Call me Dolores." Another button opened. Her expression didn't change, and nor did the tone of her voice, almost as if her hand was operating totally apart from her conscious mind. God, the valley of the tits looked inviting.

"I said, have you been telling me the truth?"

"Yes Ms. . . Dolores." This time she finished undoing all of the buttons, then removed her blouse completely, neatly putting it on a hanger which hung from a hook on the back of the door. He bra was not the sensible affair I'd expected. Instead it was a beautiful powder blue affair, the bottom halves of the cups being made of sheer material, while the top halves were a flimsy, lacy affair, showing clearly her wide, dark areolas, and nipples yearning to breathe free. Was that a damp patch around the one on the right? My god, could she possibly be lactating?

"Look, Mr. Hardcastle, I really just want to make things easier for everyone, but I can't do so if you won't be honest with me. Have you been telling me the truth?"

"Yes, Dolores. " She shook her head sadly, while she removed her trousers with some difficulty, revealing a pair of powder blue panties that matched her bra.

"Mr. Hardcastle. Jamie. I am doing my very best to help you, ut you make it so difficult when you continue to be so obstructive. So I am going to ask you this one last time. Are - you - telling - me - the - truth?"

What the hell?

"Yes, Dolores, I am telling you the truth."

"Thank fuck for that!" Woosh. Within milliseconds her bra hit the ceiling, and her knickers hit the floor, Marlon hit boiling point, and within seconds I was naked, he was buried deep in her pussy, and her nipple was buried in my mouth. The milk flowed, and Marlon growed, since this was one of my fantasies fulfilled. Fucking a fat old gal in a trouser suit, while I suckled the sweet milk from her huge lactating tits.

Mind you, when I'd fantasised about this happening, I hadn't actually included the customer satisfaction survey that Dolores started carrying out while she was riding Marlon and feeding me.

"Just a few questions YOWZA! to help us improve the service SERVE ME SERVE ME SERVE ME! We provide to you the CCCUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMM! -stomer. Would you describe my pussy as a) Wel CUMMING! - welcoming?

b) SatisFUCK! -satisfactory

c) Below paAARRGGHH! Par

d) A turn OFF! OFF! OFF!

And so on. Dolores was nothing if not a dedicated professional. Although I have to say that she didn't quite live up to the store's promise that the customer always comes first.

While this was going on, though, there was a strange sound . It was the sound of banging, no, hammering on the door. Just as Dolores heralded the arrival of her last orgasm by shouting "Thank you for taking part in this customer survAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!" the lock on the office door gave way, and in they came. Women. Lots of them, staff and customers. Each, so it turned out, with a pussy, lured by Marlon's siren song, desperate to be seen to!

"Sheeit! Cried Marlon, with his usual talent for coining the appropriate phase for the occasion, "This is God - damn pussy-mageddon!"