Pantomime Dwarf Pt. 02byjeanne_d_artois©
Alan and I were sipping our coffee. I didn’t know what to say. We had just discovered a sort of sex together yet we were not girlfriend and boyfriend. The women’s group idea for a pantomime had thrust us together. Did I want Alan as a boyfriend? Yes. There would be problems and we would have to endure some crude humour because he is so much smaller than I am. I am the tallest woman in our town. He is the shortest adult male. We both faced prejudice because of our size but together the comments would be frequent.
Did that really matter? I thought not because I liked Alan as a person. I enjoyed his company and his conversation. He seemed to enjoy being with me. If we were to become anything more to each other we would have to face the cruel remarks together. Why was I thinking ‘if’? We already were together. He had just spent a long time licking my bare pussy and had relaxed against my breasts as if he belonged there. I had enjoyed having him there. I was standing next to him as he sat on a tall bar stool in my kitchen. My arm was around his shoulder; his arm was around my waist.
“What are we going to do?”
“We are supposed to be deciding about this pantomime but that is not really the issue any more, is it Marie? What are we going to do about us?”
He was still hugging my waist. His head was resting against my breast.
“What do you want to do about us, Alan?”
“I want to see more of you.”
“Then you will. I want more of you.”
“There isn’t much of me. What you see is what you get.”
I turned to face him and pulled him close.
“Then I want all of you.”
“Now? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Alan, I’m sure. You don’t have to go, do you?”
“No, Marie. I don’t have to go. I’d like to stay; if you want me to.”
“I do. Finish your coffee and then…”
“Then we go to bed. Together.”
“Isn’t this a bit sudden?” His eyes twinkled at me.
“You know it isn’t. We have been friends for over a year and we like each other, don’t we? We want to be more than friends, don’t we? Are you reluctant?”
“Yes; yes and no.”
I swallowed the rest of my coffee. He finished his and slid off the stool. He took my hand and I led him to my bedroom.
There we stripped each other. He had difficult until I knelt down. For some reason I decided to wear a night-dress, one that ended half way down my calves. It was black, silky and opaque with a high neck and cap sleeves.
“What’s the night dress for, Marie? Ashamed of your body?” he teased.
“No. I just want to play and this might be fun.”
I stood up and dropped the night-dress over him. He was pulled against my body and the difference in height was dramatic. My breasts were well above his head. He had to stand on tiptoe to make his tongue reach my navel.
I bent forward and cupped my hands around his buns. I lifted him so that his head came between my breasts. His tongue licked up my body as he rose. His hands reached out for my breasts and his mouth moved to a nipple. I carried him to the bed and lowered myself, with Alan on top. He writhed against me and his tongue produced erect nipples, first one, then the other.
His lips, tongue and hands wandered everywhere arousing me with light fleeting touches. My night-dress billowed and heaved as he moved around. My hands tried to hold him where he was exciting me most but he was as elusive as an eel. He was teasing me unmercifully. His fingers found my damp cleft and then darted away before returning when I least expected it. I was writhing in agony from his delicate touches when his fingers started to penetrate.
“Not those,” I gasped. “I want you.”
“Are you sure?” he asked with his fingers still pressing in and making me arch my body to force them further.
His fingers withdrew, teasing me as they did. His erection replaced them. I hadn’t expected much from his stature but what I got was certainly more than my fears. I have had smaller ones.
Alan’s movements distracted me from consideration of relative sizes. He may be small but he knows how to please a woman. His head was at my breasts as he pounded into me. A finger worked its way in as well and found the place that counts. After that I just let myself enjoy.
Alan had a brilliant sense of timing. He brought me close, again and again, before taking me beyond into delight. Then he stayed, still moving gently until I was ready again. His motion increased in tempo until he had me screaming for more. I got more.
I don’t know how long Alan played with me. All I know was that I was satisfied when he finally let himself go. I clutched him to my breast as he came into me.
We lay there for some time until I rolled to my side with his mouth still on my breast and his tool still held in me. I wrapped us in the duvet and we went to sleep. I hadn’t seen Alan from the time I dropped my night-dress over his head but I had felt him. How had I felt him!
Later in the night Alan woke me with wandering fingers. I rolled to my back and he rode me until I drifted back to blissful sleep.
In the morning he brought me coffee in bed. He was fully dressed, had shaved presumably with the razor I use on my legs, and he asked what I would like for breakfast. I could get used to this. This sort of treatment was a pleasant change from my previous men who would lie in bed snoring until I had been up for hours.
I declined his offer of breakfast in bed, showered and joined him in the kitchen. We ate together.
“What about the script?” Alan asked. “Do you have to answer today?”
“Yes. I promised Andrea. Do you want to do it?”
“It will mean seeing more of you.”
“You don’t need the pantomime for that. Anyway, you saw all of me last night, didn’t you?”
“Not really. Hidden under your night-dress I saw your shape dimly.”
“You felt all of it.” I retorted.
“I did, didn’t I? Enjoy it?”
I hugged him.
“Yes, Alan. You were great.”
“So were you. So that’s settled. We will see more of each other.”
We stopped talking for kissing. He was back on the bar stool so I didn’t have to bend far.
“The pantomime?” Alan asked when we stopped for breath.
“The what? Oh. That. Are you sure you want to do it?”
“No. I’m not sure. I’m happy about the part with you. It is the rest of your group. Last night was my first time kissing down there…”
“You were good at it.”
“Maybe, Marie. It was with you. It is a different problem with the others, some of whom hate men. Apart from what they might do to me on stage, and the script gives them plenty of opportunities to get at me, I have to do it before an audience. The script gets me into several awkward situations…”
“That is an understatement. Have you seen exactly what gets done to you?”
“Yes, Marie. If it is done sympathetically and with care I should only be embarrassed. If someone wants to make a point or just doesn’t like me – I could be hurt. I’d trust you. Some of your friends? I’m not sure.”
“So what do we do?”
“I think we should have a read through with the actions. That will give me an impression of how they will play it. I’ll have you at least on my side. You could stop anything that went too far. You would, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, Alan. I would. I want you in one piece.”
“OK. Ring Andrea and ask if we can have a read-through with actions. Doesn’t have to be in costume but that would give a better idea. If they wore skirts like the one you wore last night that would help. They could put them over jeans.”
“I’ll see what she says. I think I’d better do it in private, if you don’t mind, Alan. I might have to shout and scream a bit to get my way.”
“OK. I’ll go home and change. Shall I come back here?”
“Yes please, Alan. Give me half an hour.”
He did. I spoke to Andrea. I didn’t have to shout and scream. Andrea seemed prepared for the request. We arranged it for that evening. They had already decided to meet in a room off the gym to discuss our response to the script. If we had said no they would have had to rewrite. They hadn’t expected an unqualified yes. Andrea said that the best they had hoped for was a ‘yes, maybe’ which is what we had given them.
We were in the kitchen drinking coffee. Alan was sitting on a high bar stool with his arm round my waist. His head was leaning against my breast. My arm was around his shoulder.
“We have proved that I can kiss pussy,” he announced.
“More than that,” I said “We have proved that you are very good at it.”
“I can’t do that on stage, Marie.”
“Well, perhaps you could – but I think the cast and audience might object. That sort of performance is for consenting adults in private.” I squeezed his head against my breast.
“Can I fake it on stage? Who do I have to do it with?”
“I think I know. I might have to ring Andrea again . Let me think.”
“Would the script help?”
We went back to the dining room. I sat down at the table, putting my coffee mug down. Alan put his mug beside mine and scrambled up on to my lap as if that was the natural thing to do. I opened the script at page one.
“Good,” I said. “There is a list of characters and pencilled notes of the casting. There are some alternatives but it gives us an idea. Andrea plays the Wicked Witch Morgana. I’m Princess Helen the heroine. You are Prince, as yet unnamed, the hero. The first choices for the other six are Judith, Chloe, Emma, April, Julia and Sandra. Pamela and Teresa are possible replacements. Except for Andrea, you, and I, we keep our real names in the pantomime. I’m not sure that is a good idea.”
“That doesn’t matter at this point. I want to know which women I would have to kiss. It will be eight of those ten. I know most of them. That makes it difficult in one sense and easier in another.”
“If I know them I can’t treat them as anonymous actresses but as real people that I am going to have to meet again. Will I feel the same about them if I have kissed them between their legs? It is a very intimate thing to do. Not only I but the whole audience will know that I have kissed them.”
“Does it make a difference?”
Alan turned to face me.
“I didn’t mind doing it with you once I had got beyond my embarrassment but it is an act of submission. I put myself literally at the woman’s feet and own her as my mistress. With my size I would find it difficult to submit so publicly because it reinforces the view that I am less than normal men. Can you understand that?”
“Yes, Alan, I can. The men in my life wanted me to submit to them. I was humiliating for me because I knew I was better than them. I don’t feel that with you.”
“You wouldn’t.” Alan sounded bitter. “I couldn’t make you submit to me. You could easily overpower me because you are much bigger and stronger than I am. I am no threat to your superiority.”
I kissed the top of his head.
“I wouldn’t do that to you. I don’t want to. Relative size isn’t the problem. It is the desire to control another person and make them less than they are just so that you feel more important. That is the theme of this pantomime. Women have been suppressed for generations. You can understand some of what we feel. A woman knows that every time she walks through the town some large ignorant lout could attack her. They might draw the line at a woman my size but it is true for most women. It modifies women’s behaviour. You are at risk just as women are, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Alan whispered as if he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself.
“Do you want to pull out of the panto reading, Alan?”
“No, Marie. I want to try. Whether I can go through to the performance… I won’t know until I’ve tried.”
“OK. What do we do until this evening?”
“Practise?” Alan said with a grin.
“No. I don’t think so. I want you fit for them. How about a walk and lunch at a country pub?”
That is what we did. We walked. We talked. We had a great meal and then walked some more. Towards the end of the afternoon I could feel that Alan was getting tense. I tried to distract him but by the time we got back to my home he seemed to be a bag of nerves. I sent him off for a shower while I made coffee.
His nervousness had affected me. If any of the women mistreated Alan this evening I’d defend him. I shook myself. They were my friends, not enemies. They might be playful but I was sure they would stop short of hurting or humiliating Alan. Or would they…