Caring for Mrs. Tupa’s Friend


[This story has been submitted under the Fetish category, but it could also fall under the Mature, Voyeurism, Anal, and Romance categories. It also involves bodily fluids and waste, simple and extreme. If these offend you, do not proceed further. To best follow the story, please read chapters 01 through 04 first. These stories are meant for a very select audience who appreciate the fetishes involved. Please do not down-rate these stories just because they are not to your liking. If you do like them, please comment or send feedback. Thanks very much for your support. All characters in this story are over 18. This is purely a fantasy, and bears very little resemblance to reality.]

Mrs. Gavenda needed some attending to

After Mrs. Tupa and I paid a visit to her Parish’s aptly named Rectory and received our instructions in how best to enjoy the blessings of anal love, I felt an increasing fondness for the unique community that Father Viktor looked after. From time to time, the good Father would send over one of his parishioners who needed help, to see if I might have a vocation to serve the community as a lay member.

I was not raised to be especially religious, but once Mrs. Tupa had acquainted me with the unique Bohemian customs and traditions of the “old country,” as practiced by her parish community, I began to feel like this might be my spiritual home. I was only 18 and in my first year of community college, still living with my parents, but spending much of my spare time over at Mrs. Tupa’s, alleviating her loneliness and attending to her numerous needs. I was rapidly discovering that a large portion of the members of her church were, like her, earthy old Czech widows of a sweet disposition but of a decidedly needy sort.

Mrs. Zuzana Gavenda was a good friend of Mrs. Tupa’s, similarly short and big-bottomed, though with even larger bazooms, if that was even possible. She was something of a chatterbox, though it was mostly in Czech, as her English was even more rudimentary than Mrs. Tupa’s.

Mrs. Gavenda had no lack of prurient cravings that were going unmet since her husband’s departure from this earthly coil. She confessed this to Father Viktor, no doubt with the hope that he might take up the slack, but he suggested that she call her friend Anna Tupa and tell her that the good Father requested Mrs. Tupa to share her blessings, namely me.

Anna had already agreed to such an arrangement, “Bohemians love share things, we very giving people,” she reassured me. I was well acquainted with that trait, as no sooner had Mrs. Gavenda come by Mrs. Tupa’s home and been introduced to me, than Anna invited the three of us up to her bathroom to share our pee and poop together. By now, I was quite used to this odd Czech custom, as every social event or social call seemed to be preceded by this communal ritual.

In fact, it was one of the things that had charmed me about the Bohemian immigrant community in the American rust belt: they were totally at home in their bodies, convinced that bodily functions, body hair, and nudity were all natural and to be embraced wholeheartedly.

Before we went up to the bathroom, Mrs. Tupa gave Mrs. Gavenda a votive candle and a small box of matches and invited her to light the candle and set it on the small table under the framed print of the Infant of Prague, next to Mrs. Tupa’s own flickering votive. With that blessing in place, we climbed upstairs to the bathroom and proceeded to undress. Zuzana was, as I expected, as hairy as Anna, though her pubes and pits retained their dirty blonde color, as did her head of hair. I guessed that she was in her late fifties or early sixties, at least a decade younger than hatay seks hikayeleri Mrs. Tupa.

“Sorry for sagging titties,” Mra. Gavenda apologized, “it run in family.”

She had nothing to apologize for, as far as I was concerned. I tried to get that across to her. I smiled at her and licked my lips suggestively. She gave me a bawdy wink back and quickly glanced at my package, which was already thickening. Mrs. Tupa spotted it too, and said something in Czech to her friend.

They quickly got in the bathtub and half squatted facing me, side by side, and began to pee. I stood on the tile floor, just outside the tub and started hosing down their hairy mounds. The only sound was the splattering of our piss against the porcelain of the tub, but there was a beautiful feeling of intimacy, an almost palpable corona of light surrounding their mature bodies. I’ve said before that this kind of communion felt almost sacred. We were imperfect humans, accepting each other with all our flaws, yet finding love in the most basic bodily functions.

* * *

After the ladies had washed off their twats and feet and climbed out of the tub, it was time for us to shit together. Mrs. Tupa explained.

“I have only one chamberpot, so we use one by one. Jack, you shit first, to give us inspiration.”

During a previous visit, Mrs. Tupa had explained to me the special reverence that Bohemian believers felt for the act of defecation. By shitting together, that which was shamefully concealed became joyously revealed. According to Bohemian traditions, the emergence of the turd was a symbol of the opening of the heart and the banishment of shame.

The feeling of intimacy became stronger as my brown log slowly extruded from my holy sphincter. So did the pervasive smell in the room. Most people have been programmed to find the smell of feces repulsive. Not so the good people of Father Viktor’s parish. My companions were entranced. For them, the smell of shit was akin to frankincense and myrrh. When it came their turn to defecate, they grunted heartily, each in their unique style, just as the shape of their turds and the amount of their offerings were unique. In the end, our holy offerings all mingled together, uniting us in our humble need to shit.

It is hard to put this into words, but I was coming to believe that the Bohemian “old ways”, so preciously preserved in this parish, were more closely aligned with Mother Nature and human nature, than all the moralizing and sin-mongering that the Church in Rome so hypocritically propagated.

Father Viktor, bless his soul, was walking a fine line between heresy and redemption, and if I could bring happiness to kindly simple souls such as Mrs. Gavenda by fulfilling their needs, I felt good about it.

Now it was time to discover what those needs were and to fulfill them.

* * *

After we wiped each other clean and helped Mrs. Tupa clean things up, she led us to her bedroom with its spacious bed. I got the impression that Zuzana Gavenda had been there before, under what circumstances I did not know. We were all naked, seated together on her bed, when Mrs. Tupa asked Mrs. Gavenda exactly what she hoped I could help her with. Much of this discussion took place in Czech, with Anna only doing spotty and intermittent translation. But it became clear to me that Zuzana Gavenda had certain cravings that she hoped I could satisfy.

It seemed that, according to the Bohemian way, most of these cravings — deemed low on the sinful scale — involved anal kissing (the “Kiss of Peace”) and rectal penetration. Mrs. Gavenda had regularly enjoyed these pleasures with her husband, but now in his absence, she felt especially deprived. According to Anna, Zuzana wanted to lose herself in my anus, have her anus kissed in turn, and receive a loving anal fucking in her big posterior. According to Father Viktor, none of these were actually major sins, but natural expressions of pleasure that were minor sins at most, possibly even blessings under certain circumstances. Was I willing to help?

Hell, yeah, I was willing. The more that these horny old ladies sought me out, the more I felt it an honor and blessing to help them enjoy some pleasure in their declining years.

My girlfriends my own age seemed either consumed with their own narcissistic demands, or only too happy to cast me aside if a greater stud of their dreams appeared on the scene. The Bohemian parish seemed more inviting, day by day. Perhaps I did have a calling to attend to their needs.

* * *

If you’ve never had the pleasure of a mature Bohemian woman pushing her face into your butt and chowing down, you don’t know what you’ve been missing. These dear old gals, as I thought of them, shed their inhibitions as easily as they shed their clothes. Anna and Zuzana positioned me face down on the bed, and Anna pried my cheeks apart, making my hairy anus available for Zuzana’s fevered assault. I could feel her enormous teats wobbling around between my spread legs, as she nibbled and kissed my sphincter. With increasing gusto, Zuzana pressed her tongue against my anal crack, inserting it as deeply into my rectum as she could, making the most bestial sounds imaginable, as if her moral gears had slipped a notch into neutral, and she was feeding from my hairy crevice. She kept pausing to take a deep whiff, obviously savoring what Mrs. Tuba called my “man stink”.

I glanced back and saw that Anna had now shifted her own position to make a similar invasion of Zuzana’s buttocks. The two earthy bottom-feeders were snorting as if Mrs. Tupa’s bed were a barnyard. Mrs. Gavenda squealed and grunted with an unhinged zeal, making oral love to my rectum as if it were a long-lost lover, while squirming and pushing her own bum back against Mrs. Tupa’s buried face. The depraved audacity of their behavior had made my swollen cock rigid with desire and it was forming a small sticky pool of pre-cum on the linen beneath my prostrate body.

I was beginning to worry that if they kept this up much longer, I’d shoot my load without ever getting my boner into Mrs. Gavenda’s keister. Finally, I gave a sharp whistle which brought them up short. I’d picked up this trick from Father Viktor, who seemed to have his clergy and congregation trained to stop whatever they were doing instantly and pay attention, whenever they heard his whistle.

“Ladies, please! Let me turn over on my back, so that you can sit on my stiff cock, Zuzana, while you, Anna, sit on my face with your furry crotch. Does that sound like a plan?”

Mrs. Tupa translated my suggestion to Mrs. Gavenda, and both ladies obediently got up and helped roll me over. They grabbed my prong and slobbered all over it, lubing it with their spit and my pre-cum, then Mrs. Tupa helped her friend find just the right angle for her to lower her collosal ass and skewer her anus with my greased-up prick. Zuzana took it slow, though Anna had done such a thorough job of juicing up Zuzana’s anal entrance that my dick slid in with a minimum of pain and difficulty.

Mrs. Gavenda just sat there, soaking in the feeling of finally, after far too long, having a nice warm cock stuffed up her rectum. She looked at me with such a look of poignant gratitude, that I thought she might burst into tears. When she finally spoke, her voice was husky with emotion.

“You gift from Heaven to our Parish, Jack. Please become member. You no regret it. We all be happy together. Please, Jack!”

To drive home her point, Zuzana began to rock herself up and down on my dick, squeezing it with her rectal muscles, and clutching and shaking her low hanging granny boobs, flaunting them at me, as they were just beyond my reach.

Anna, meanwhile, had worked her way up the bed, to squat over my head and bring her hairy crotch down on my face, aiming her cunt at my mouth and her sphincter at my nose. It was like being smothered in a smelly, sweaty, drippy, hairy nest of wrinkled and crinkled old lady flesh. It might be an acquired taste for some, but, Good God, I had acquired it instantly the first time that Mrs. Tupa had suggested we try it. She was skilled at it, having a well-practiced feel for just when she should raise herself to allow me to take a deep breath of oxygen, then pressing herself down again to rub her potent privates all over my licking and sniffing face.

Between Zuzana’s rectal friction on my dick buried in her bowels and Anna’s big bottom squirming around my face, I was in a holy state of sensory overload. I was being taught “the old ways” by the gluteus maximus of two of its hidden initiates, a “learn by doing” method that I found deeply enthralling. The ritual would not be complete until we had all climaxed, ideally together, though Father Viktor would soon counsel me that “Perfectionism” was not a doctrine to which the Bohemian church adhered.

Though my glimpses of what was happening above me were fleeting — only as long as it took me to take a deep breath, periodically — it seemed that Mrs. Tupa and Mrs. Gavenda were now rubbing their large teats against each other and chanting prayers in Czech. The warm glow of love which always seemed to be produced by Bohemian rituals was engulfing us and I felt the now familiar state of holy bliss. The next time I caught another glimpse, the prayers had ceased as they were sucking and biting gently on each others extended nipples.

We were all reaching a state of ecstatic frenzy, our love communion on the verge of giving us our release. I could feel my testicles draw close to my body in a tight hairy ball and then I was ejaculating uncontrollably up Zuzana’s rectum, shooting millions of spermatozoa deep within her bowels. This triggered her own climax, accompanied by an almost painful clutching of my cock by her anal muscles, and the hissing of a string of forceful exclamations that I took to be Czech expletives.

This set off Mrs. Tupa, who suddenly rose up from my face, half-twisted around, and drenched all of us with a wild spray of cunt juice. In a spontaneous outpouring of love, she hugged us together and kissed our naked bodies all over, fondling and petting us as beloved and holy friends.

“Jack! This be Bohemian sacrament of love. We all feel it. This be sign you join community and help your new friends.”

Zuzana and Anna both hugged me close, and I could swear that I felt our glowing hearts united in love. This was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It felt holy, but not in some hokey pious way. It felt like the real deal. Unseen energies were at work. I made a vow to myself that first thing in the morning I would call the Rectory and make an appointment to discuss these things with Father Viktor. Perhaps I had found my true vocation.

[Many thanks for all supportive comments, feedback, and 5-star ratings. Thanks also to Margaret Jenkins and Leslie Jones for their proofreading, editing, and feedback. If you like my stories, but are not familiar with their’s, do seek them out. Private messages are welcome. Please note: these stories have very little relationship to reality. Please consider that in any reaction you might have. ]

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