1. 47 Don`t call me Mum


    Date: 7/24/2015, Categories: Sex Humor, Author: alibodge, Rating: 67, Source: xHamster

    47 Don`t call me Mum Now I need to tell you my name is Wooster, not Berty from the book, but Tim, Tim Wooster, my body is large and my friends call me “big woose” for some reason and Freddy my mate refers to me a Forrest Gump though I don’t understand that either. My mother when I was born 18 years back, had to have me adopted as she, being so young could not cope with a c***d at that time, so I have been searching for her for some time. Anyway I had one of those “genes recalled” efforts for Christmas and bingo it gave mothers name and grandfathers as well. So being a nosey git off I went to the village grandfather was listed as coming from, checked the parish records, and well, pay-dirt! Not only did they record the birth of the old boy, the sextant knew him and where he lived, in a nursing home. After a while getting to know me etc, from him, now in his 80th year, I got mothers address and was soon at her door. Number one surprise it was a flat, over a row of shops, in an area called locally for some unknown reason; ‘Soho’! Number two surprise was that on the door was a card saying French lessons all sizes catered for! Now I had no idea that my mother was so educated as to teach a language...either way I knocked and a maid answered the door. A nice touch that, having a maid meant there was money! The maid showed me into a small waiting room and said that madam was with a client she would not be long. . I was expecting the girl to have asked my business when I arrived but ...
    no, so I supposed she had just accepted that I was here for lessons. Having no wish to interrupt someone`s lesson I sat reading a magazine, something called Mayfair, left on the small table, expecting it to be after the style of vogue or country life, like at the doctors place, I was shocked at the undressed ladies displaying their bodies so I put it back on the table, sitting silently waiting for the maids return. Some time passed and the maid returned saying madam would see me now The flat had an air of once having been an up market place, tasteful pictures of half d****d ladies from Greece or Rome adorned the walls, heavy curtains the windows, and the furnishings were old French style like I had seen in country life at our doctors waiting room. I was shown into one of the rooms that looked as though it had been two rooms at one time with the centre wall knocked away leaving a dividing arch and curtains held back by gold coloured rope in great red swags. One end had a huge double bed the other large wardrobes and a dressing table at which was sat a flimsy well worn dressing gown and night dress, containing a big breasted sizeable woman. The walls had a tasteful display of old leather whips, things like that and chains hung about, not what I would have chosen preferring pictures or paintings of f****y members, but to everyone has their own taste. Stumbling for words I asked if she was Shirley, to which she answered with a snap in her voice that “she was and who told you!” By ...
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