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♥♥ Aunt Agnes' Naughty Knitting Circle ♥♥

37_ttej said:
I must confess to you, Mr Clowns, that my late Arthur had a bit of a penchant for using his todger to roger. Alas, he was not a large man and found greater delight where it was a little more tight.
He would stand on a fruit crate and I'd slide onto the bed post to give him a little more fun. I still get a bit teary remembering how he'd use to shyly ask if I could 'shine the brass work'. I must admit to having a girlish fit of the giggles when my new doctor - such a kindly man - asked me if I'd had a large family. He looked adoringly confused when I said, "No, just a large bed".
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If you straddled your bed posts like you state I wonder if you ride your bicycle without the seat as well. I have to admit when I bent you over and removed your Depends for the first time the smell hit me like a brick. That stale anal grease smell mixed with Desitin was very intoxicating. The way your asshole literally winked at me with every breath you took made me want it so badly. By the brown sticky stuff seeping out of it, I could clearly see it was already well lubricated. I am jerking off to the thought of fucking your ass. Just wanted you to know.
 
IhateClowns said:
If you straddled your bed posts like you state I wonder if you ride your bicycle without the seat as well. I have to admit when I bent you over and removed your Depends for the first time the smell hit me like a brick. That stale anal grease smell mixed with Desitin was very intoxicating. The way your asshole literally winked at me with every breath you took made me want it so badly. By the brown sticky stuff seeping out of it, I could clearly see it was already well lubricated. I am jerking off to the thought of fucking your ass. Just wanted you to know.
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Have you been reading my secret diary, Mr Clowns!?
If you haven't it's probably because my writing these days is sadly illegible.
Arthur and I use to live going bicycling on country roads. He would sit on the seat happily pedalling on. I would sit on the shaft where the handlebars go and he'd steer using my shoulders.
Such freedom feeling the wind rushing through ones hair! Oh, the looks we'd get, too. After one little incident with a young policeman, Arthur nicknamed me 'Forks'.
Unfortunately, my Arthur was sometimes a little heavy on the brakes which may be one reason for the elasticity in my declining years.
Ah, such memories. We'd take a picnic basket on the carrier and have delightful afternoons under the trees down by the river. Sometimes we'd even have something to eat. :devil:
Which reminds me, I do recall Arthur once bemoaning he'd forgotten the olive oil - he used to enjoy me lubricating him a little before entering my rear - and was forced to use some chain grease. Perhaps some latent effect remains and I sincerely apologize, sweetling, for my leaky gasket.
 
Agnes, we need to go out for a girls day of primping and shopping. I promise to hit all the fine pharmacies for whatever your needs may be. Oh the stories you have to tell!

(you guys are sick, but hilarious!)
 
DoRaMe said:
Agnes, we need to go out for a girls day of primping and shopping. I promise to hit all the fine pharmacies for whatever your needs may be. Oh the stories you have to tell!

(you guys are sick, but hilarious!)
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That sounds just fabulous, possum! (as a dear friend of mine would say).
I'd especially appreciate if you could assist me at the dispensary. I found an internet site on my nevvy Jett's laptop called 'Silk Road'. I thought it would be for selling ladies undergarments but, to my surprise, it seemed to be more for little colored capsules and combat equipment. Stores have sure changed since I was a young gal! I obviously need some young feminine assistance from someone right 'on trend' as they say.
We'll have to see if we can find a toy store, too, to pick up some little things to keep Mr Clowns and Mr Lewis entertained. ;)
 
37_ttej said:
Have you been reading my secret diary, Mr Clowns!?
If you haven't it's probably because my writing these days is sadly illegible.
Arthur and I use to live going bicycling on country roads. He would sit on the seat happily pedalling on. I would sit on the shaft where the handlebars go and he'd steer using my shoulders.
Such freedom feeling the wind rushing through ones hair! Oh, the looks we'd get, too. After one little incident with a young policeman, Arthur nicknamed me 'Forks'.
Unfortunately, my Arthur was sometimes a little heavy on the brakes which may be one reason for the elasticity in my declining years.
Ah, such memories. We'd take a picnic basket on the carrier and have delightful afternoons under the trees down by the river. Sometimes we'd even have something to eat. :devil:
Which reminds me, I do recall Arthur once bemoaning he'd forgotten the olive oil - he used to enjoy me lubricating him a little before entering my rear - and was forced to use some chain grease. Perhaps some latent effect remains and I sincerely apologize, sweetling, for my leaky gasket.
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I questioned why your driveway is made of cobblestone. Now I understand why. I just figured the small leakage was from eating too much Lays potato chips. Either way I look forward to our next rendezvous. I have been taking yoga getting ready so I am more limber.
 
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I wish you would start an ampic thread. I want to see more of you, I want to see all of you Agnes. You're smile can light up a room, and I've heard your farts can too. You're a remarkable woman, Agnes.
 
MausAss said:
I wish you would start an ampic thread. I want to see more of you, I want to see all of you Agnes. You're smile can light up a room, and I've heard your farts can too. You're a remarkable woman, Agnes.
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Why, thankyou Mr Ass. * giggle - 'Mr Ass' - giggle*
My nevvy insisted on putting a sign outside my bedroom door because of my unfortunate flatulence problem. He's also restricted my intake of my beloved beans. So much fibre and so beneficial to bowel health. Really, I feel that the occasional small impolite noise and brown streaks on my small clothes is a such a small price to pay. However, Jett feels strongly otherwise and I hear him muttering in the laundry about being 'scarred for life'.

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