Saggy-Baggy

By Ross Martin

A bloke I'll refer to as Sam invited me to his place for a few drinks and to meet the wife. He lived in a dead end street a bit of a distance from his nearest neighbor. At the time I didn't thing this odd.

All up, it was a modest little house with a porch out front and a swing out back. Sam rang the door bell and, within seconds, I was looking at a woman in her mid-fifties with a crooked but inviting smile, down caste hazel eyes, short curly black hair and tits and other lumps in her T-shirt that seemed untidy at best. Her face wasn't particularly pretty but there was something I liked about it apart from the smile. She also had on a simple skirt and a pair of fluffy pink slippers.

“Meet Saggy-baggy,” said Sam in way of introduction.

“Saggy-baggy?”

“Yeah, my pet name for her,” said Sam.

“Why Saggy-baggy?”

“Show him, dear. I'll close the door.”

And show me she did. She removed her T-shirt and her skirt with some abandon as if clothes were bothersome to her. She wasn't shy and the shocked expression on my face didn't seem to register with her. It registered with Sam, however, and maybe that was the point. And there they were, her tits dangling down to her mid-section. No wonder her T-shirt had looked wrong. What's more, there was scarring where she probably had a cesarean once and her vaginal region was a mass of wild hair taking up more space than I thought possible on any woman.

“She's magnificent,” I blurted out though why I did and why I felt that way I couldn't have said at the time. But there was something about her tree trunk legs, her droopy boobs and her big butt that spoke to me and could be described that way. Something that had been etched in her face over time I recognized on a subconscious level and that fascinated me.

“I agree,” said Sam, taking a boob and squeezing it affectionately.

“You done all I told you to do today?” asked Sam of Saggy.

“Yes, Sam. Everything.”

“Good. Good.”

He began to slap her tits and not gently either but with real force. Did she resist? No, she leaned forward so he could really get at them.

“I bet if I hit hard enough I can get them to swing around to her back. What do you think, Saggy?”

“You can – Ow! – But try – Ow! – Sam!”

She looked sad and happy at the same time as he continued to beat her mams with his hands.

“No,” said Sam after a dozen or more tries. “I can't do it. Want to have a go?”

“But she's your wife,” I ventured, thinking I should say something along those lines.

“Go ahead, please,” stated Saggy. “One of you might succeed.”

“There's a dare for you,” said Sam, hitting her so hard her eyes bugged out.

“Very well,” I said, trying to sound as reluctant as I could. I gave her a good wallop and she thanked me for it. I hit her several more times but without success. Those old floppies though did redden as did her face. No tears, though. She was a tough old bird and I was beginning to enjoy that aspect of her. What's more, she stayed still, offering up her flesh for the very worst I could do.

“Your hand getting sore?” asked Sam.

“A little,” I told him honestly. Mam beating wasn't a sport I got to do very often, more's the pity. Still, all things considered, Sam did invite the right guy home.

“You know what this means, don't you Saggy?”

“Yes, Sam. I can't go around hurting your friend's hand with my saggies.”

“Damned right, you old cunt.”

From behind a flower pot, Sam produced a cat-o'-nine tails with nasty looking metal spikes.

“You're not going to…,” I began, expecting before long those mams to be cut to ribbons and any woman except maybe Saggy begging for mercy for it to stop. I was tingling down under at the very thought.

“What do you say, Saggy?”

“Do it Sam, if it pleases you.”

I thought it would be the tits for sure but he attacked her prominent belly and forest-like vaginal region instead. I felt a little disappointed at first but quickly got to enjoying what was going down. Especially since she was being put into terrific pain. And she just stood there and took it. I knew she was in terrific pain because, for a start, he wasn't sparing her anything and every once in a while the cat would get stuck because of its spikes and had to be reefed hard to get it away from her. Always, under these circumstances, some vaginal hair came with it as well as a scream that was music to my ears. And, if truth be told, to Sam as well. She had a lovely voice when she got started and I could smell her sweat as well. But not a tear, not a single tear. Sam stopped after thirty whacks and a dozen tugs. He had half a fist full of her most intimate hair and showed it to me.

“I'm thinking of stuffing a mattress with it,” he confided in me. Of course, in order to do that he'd have to be at it for years harvesting, allowing it to grow, and harvesting some more but there I found the whole notion a delight. I'd be at it for years, I told myself, given half a chance.

Saggy's tree trunks were shaking a little and she looked relieved but looks can be deceiving.

“That all Sam?” she asked in a matter-of-fact voice. “He is your friend.”

“Damned straight he is,” said Sam. “Bend over. I'll get the cane.”

The cane was a nasty piece of work. Later I found out it was the sort used in Turkish prisons. Usually twenty of the best from one of those monsters would turn a full grown man into a blubbering hunk of jelly for a week. I almost gasped at the sight of it. In Sam's other hand he had two alligator clips attached to two weights via fishing line. The weights were old sinkers, maybe two pounds apiece. He attached them to her cunt lips but first he had to find ‘em.

“I swear I'll get out the lawnmower one day,” he grouched happily.

It took some fishing around but he got there. He didn't mind, not really, and she didn't and I sure as hell didn't. The cunt lips, thanks to the weights, came down to where they could be easily seen. And he wasted no time giving them the first swift blow. This made her sob loudly. A good dozen later and she was sobbing and crying nicely.

“Say you're sorry Saggy or I'll give you some more,” said Sam.

“I'm sorry,” whimpered Saggy and really meant it.

“Say you're an old trollop cunt dog ass licker and didn't mean nothin' by it.”

“I'm an old trollop cunt dog ass licker and didn't mean nothin' by it.”

“I'd better give you some on your mams so you don't forget.”

“Yes, Sam.”

With that she bent lower to really present her sagging udders and he took careful aim to score the nips. Nine times out of the ten he succeeded making her flinch and gasp.

“Thank you Sam,” she squeaked and shivered at the end of it. I wanted to thank Sam, too, because it was quite a sight. The lines were forming agreeably and I knew at least five were going to go purple and deep.

“Where did you find her?” I had to ask Sam then and there.

“Oh, you mean Saggy? She found me. She saw some mean streak in me and that was that.”

“That simple? Does she have family? What do they think of this?”

“Her dad died a few years ago. Her mother's still around though. Want to meet her?”

“What? Meet her?”

“Yeah. I think it's time, isn't it, Saggy dear?”

“Yes, Sam,” said Saggy, looking up at the clock. “Been half an hour.”

I was led into the bathroom of the house where there was a sight to both astound and bewilder. For there, on the toilet seat, sat a woman in her seventies stark naked and very wrinkly. Around her middle was a thick leather belt and it became obvious as she moved that her hands were tied to it behind her back by tight leather strips. What's more, there was an opened bottle of Guinness on the nearby washing machine, a stand where two enema bags, now empty, had been emptying themselves into her ass, and a spreader bar keeping her legs apart. Her shriveled up old rose was something to see and, I dare say, it winked at me, or was it glistening because this really did turn on the ancient freak? Her eyes were glassy and she was moaning with abandon. It was a wonder we didn't hear her in the other room. My guess is she really only started up when she saw us which makes a kind of sense. Her stomach was a little bigger than expected from the rest of her and she was quaking.

“There you have her,” said Sam with a deep grin and a showmanship wave. “Half an hour, right Gran.?”

“Yes, Sam. Oooohhh! Let me go!”

“Saggy managed to tie you up okay?”

“Yes, Sam. G-Get me out?”

“Does it hurt much all that churning going on in there?”

“No.Oooohhh! H-H-Husband did worse.”

“Oh, yes. The Guinness. Here, dear. Drink it all down.”

Sam forced her mouth open and forced her to swallow every drop. He then rubbed her tummy gently and walked back to Saggy. Gran renewed her moaning but this time in more earnest. She convulsed a little when the cold of the thick alcoholic concoction met the warmth of the liquid already manifesting.

“Better?” asked Sam.

“Oh, yes, Sam…yesssss! Now, let me go…..pleasssssseeeee! Please let me go!”

“How can you do that to a woman her age?” I asked because it seemed like the right things to do. Plus I was genuinely curious.

“It was a package deal,” said Sam contemplatively. “ I married Saggy on the grounds that, when the time came, I'd take this old dish rag in, right dear?”

“That's right, Sam,” said Saggy who seem oblivious to what her mother was going through.

“And treat her the way she's accustomed to being treated.”

“You mean torture her?” I asked, all agog at the prospects.

“That's right.”

“Amazing.”

“At first I didn't want to do it but I wanted Saggy real bad back then so I agreed.”

“And have you any regrets?”

“Hell no!”

“Mother's gasping like a fish out of water,” interrupted Saggy with a little concern in her voice. “And tears are running down her cheeks.”

“Do you want me to untie you and let you go to the loo?” asked Sam of his mother-in-law.

“Pleasssse Sam…Pleaassssssssse!”

“Do you think she's gone through enough?” Sam asked Saggy.

“It's up to you,” said Saggy, shrugging her shoulders. “She's stopped making like a beached dolphin so I suppose she's fine.”

“Of course she is! I tell you what…those tears are making pleasant tracks down her front. I think we'll wait till they get to her nasty old snatch. Then you can release her and help her to empty out.”

And so we watched this poor, pathetic old trout cry and blubber and become snotty-nosed. She did ask for mercy once but that plea fell on deaf ears. She then just accepted her fate. And her groans got deeper and more hearty as time continued to flow for her like pinching, throbbing, gurgling molasses.

“I think she's reaching her limits,” I interjected.

“Not yet,” said Sam. “Almost there…Right! Untie her, Saggy…Use the knife…But leave everything else alone, got that?”

“Yes, Sam.”

And so the frail looking woman was cut free but the plug with the long lines to the enema bags was left in place. What's more, she was made by Sam to stand up straight, which was pure agony for her, and then marched around the room holding onto the enema stand as she went. When she hesitated to catch her breath he'd tug on her belly making her yelp loudly.

“You promised!” she eventually bellowed as she was made to circle the toilet a fifth time. There was now a lot of pain slicing along that ancient face from the runny nose, to the quivering lips, to the half moon and pleading eyes. Some dribble was coming from the corner of her mouth. It added to her embarrassment and, strangely enough, to my interest in proceedings. A gentleman would have stepped in and stopped it all but not me. I was beginning to understand the relationships and was starting to marvel at them.

Sam gave her a kick on the backside that made her fall. He pulled her back up by her scrawny tits and directed her toward me. “What do you say now, friend?”

I was speechless for a few seconds then said: “ She can't take any more, Sam, can she?”

“Oh, she can,” said Sam jubilantly. “She hasn't said the magic word yet, have you, mother?”

“No, she hasn't,” agreed saggy. “Your enjoying your little self, aren't you mom?”

“Please, dear. Tell him to stop! It hurts! It really hurts!”

“Yes, dear. I know,” agreed Sam.

“Yes, mother. Now take your medicine.”

With that said, Saggy began slapping her mother's backside eliciting cries of “Stop! Stop!” and “Please, please!” Some of the words broke down into great heaving sobs that must have cut through her like a sharp blade.

“Could you slap her a few times across the face while I do her crinkly old bum, Sam? I think she's zoning out,” said Saggy after a while and Sam happily complied. Then the old crone fell and had to be picked up again. Naturally it was by the tits.

“You…Are…As good as…my JOHNNY!” screamed the old woman at last and Sam did pull the plug and let her empty out. Saggy assisted with pushing and squeezing. It was some sight I can tell you.

“Was that good for you?” asked Sam of his mother-in-law when it was done.

“Yes, Sam,” she replied coolly, wiping sweat off her face. “Something new next month, maybe?”

“Next month I'll tan your hide but good,” promised Sam. “Right now I'll have you suck off my friend here.”

I waved this notion away and had Saggy do it instead. And she was quite good at it, too. What's more, I was then permitted to cunt and ass fuck her. I was thunderstruck by how wonderful that was. Sam, to really put Saggy in the mood, had rubbed rubbing alcohol on her tortured bits so that she was in mounting pain throughout the shagging.

“Did she do good?” asked Sam of me.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Very well, Saggy. You can go shower the alcohol off your cunt and breasts. I have some business to discuss with my friend here. And take that old fish with you.”

“What business?” I asked after the women had left. He directed me to the kitchen where he poured both of us some coffee.

“My daughter's in her study,” said Sam. “She's failing English and I need the right tutor. You teach don't you?”

“Yes.”

“And you dig what goes on around here, don't you?”

“That I do.”

“Very well. My daughter's in her study tied with leather straps to her chair. She's naked except for electrodes fastened to her breasts and a particularly nasty one in her cunt. Saggy put it there. There's a button you press. It lights up and everything. If she gets something wrong just press the button. If she gets smart just press the button. She understands all this. Get the picture?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Good. No sex with her but, after every tutoring session, you can have either my mother-in-law or Saggy or both to play with for an hour.”

“Sounds great.”

“Do you agree then?”

“Oh, yes.”

The girl's name was Sarah and she was sixteen. She had long black hair, small breasts but large nipples and her face was white with lips painted black in the Goth style. She looked me up and down, sighed, and proceeded to fail with even the most simple of questions. I sizzled her really good that night on her tender parts, got a hard-on out of it, and took this hard-on out on Saggy and her mom. I squeezed her mom's stomach as I penetrated her to find, to my delight, it was still rather tender from the enema. Eventually, Sarah got better at English but, I am glad to say, it took some months. I think the only reason she did get better was that she decided she had to do well at school.

It was I who managed to get Saggy's tits all the way around to her back. Mind you, I used Sam's method of getting them, via strong rope, to carry her entire weight. My only refinement was that one day I heated up a metal knitting needle and pushed it through both nipples. Oh, and I kept the heat up with a cigarette lighter. Sam reckons she hadn't howled like that in years.

The tutoring is almost done but I still go over there to Sam's home. I think I will be getting a shot at marrying Sarah. If so, I will soon be trained by Sam on how to handle three pain sluts. Gee, I am glad I agreed to meet the missus that night. Life is getting better and better.