The Dragon Lady

I was walking home from work this Thursday when I noted a late model Pontiac at the side of the street not far from my house. I was located in a quiet middle-scale suburb in New York state.

The car had its hood up. As I drew closer I focused on the windshield in the driver-seat area. I noted a woman talking on a cell phone. I immediately wondered if she was trying to call for a tow and not having much luck; her face said that might be it indeed.

The driver's door was near me, and as I decided to see if there was something I could do, the phone call ended, and this lady was frowning mightily. We noticed each other, and I leaned down and slid my face into the car. "Maybe there's something I can do to help you?" I asked.

"Not unless you got a tow truck," the woman said.

"I don't own one, but I know a guy," I responded.

"Seriously?" She laughed, and it came out a youthful, pleasant sound. I drew out my own phone and dialed. I spoke with my friend Mike, and let him know how I figured the situation was shaping up. I hung up, after he agreed to help.

"My buddy's going to come with his flatbed. You coming back from work?" I asked. She answered, "I have to get there in an hour or so."

As we waited for Mike, the lady told me I might as well take a load off, so I walked around to the passenger side and slid in when the door unlocked. I studied the woman briefly; blonde hair, straight, in a ponytail, the end of it just below the middle of her back. Probably 5'8", with a stout build. Medium D-cup breasts. Brown eyes, a youthful face, though she was anywhere from mid-thirties to early forties, I guessed. She told me her name was Andrea.

"So what do you do?" Andrea asked. I told her my name was Drew, and I was a proofreader for a self-publishing company, and that I helped Mike with his car lot. He sold cars, but the bulk of his time and talent was spent as a mechanic.

Mike showed ten minutes later, and got the car loaded in another ten. It was obviously not something simple, like a flat or a dead battery. Mike took off for his shop, and we spoke briefly. I told Andrea home wasn't far for me, and I could get her to Mike's place where there was a loaner for her.

We walked and slid into my mid-2000s Cadillac SRX, bought and paid for for two years now. We drove to Mike's, where Andrea picked out a four-year old Buick Enclave SUV. Mike ok'd it, and told her he'd have a definite diagnosis and details in two days, tops. He called her on the second evening, and they worked a deal because she loved the Enclave and couldn't imagine being without it.

Andrea and I walked out of Mike's office to the lot together. I followed her to the Buick. She climbed in, started it, and ran the window down. She had a business card, which she gave me.

"Come see us. I'm sure you have some stress in your job. We can help with that. We're a gentleman's club and escort service. No strippers and loud music; we do one-on-one sessions, and cater to quite a few tastes, but we're not high society. Come tell me what floats your boat, although I know there is one thing you should let me treat you to. It's end of the week. I own the place. I have about a dozen ladies, and we do solid business every night of the week," Andrea said. "Thank you. I owe you one or two."

"I'll do that," I said. "See you later." I wandered back to the Caddy and climbed in, and scoped the card. Lady Luck...pick your pleasure. Andrea's name and business number and address were below it, and she had written in ink below the typed lines. I flipped the card and found what was no doubt a cell number. Guess I had plans tonight. Maybe even the next few nights. Though I was a bit introverted, not necessarily comfortable around groups of unfamiliar people. Maybe Andrea sensed that, and one of her objectives was to help me overcome some of my shyness.

I made it home, put dinner together, then ate and showered. While I showered, Andrea's chunky figure floated in my mind's eye. I recalled eyeballing her round ass, put on display by the fit of the tan slacks she had worn today. My dick stirred. I furthered the fantasy, thinking I'd like to let her take a shit on me. Just squat and take a dump. I wondered how big her average turd might be. And then I wondered how much I might be safe telling her tonight. I pictured her pretty face and fine blonde hair. Chubby women did not have to be unappealing by default.

I forced my thoughts away and my penis to a relaxed state. I dressed and killed some time with my nose in a book. My phone vibrated, and as I looked at the screen, I remembered I'd passed Andrea my number; she put it in her phone on the spot.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Are you coming tonight, or not?" Andrea chided.

"I was going to let the evening settle itself before I made my way over. But I was just thinking I'd leave shortly," I replied.

"I'm just giving you shit," Andrea said. I'd like you to, I thought. "Whenever it works for you is fine," she said, bringing me out of my naughty thought.

"I'll be on my way momentarily. See you in a bit," I said. I thanked her and ended the call. I went out to the Cadillac, and put the address into my Garmin GPS. Ten minutes of driving had me rolling past the neon sign that said Lady Luck. It was on a corner, and I looped around to find the parking lot behind the building. I stepped out and locked up, moving to the main door facing the street. I went in, and found female security near the door. She looked me up and down, studying my face and noting the cap I was wearing.

I noted quiet music in the background, somewhat soothing, I guess. The female door-person leaned toward me and asked quietly if I was Drew. I nodded, and she motioned me through. I went past into the large lobby room, noting several doors and two sections of hallway toward the back of the space. Directly ahead was a large double door.

There were a handful of people in the lobby, and none paid me any attention beyond the reflex of a casual glance. Andrea was not to be found here.

And then the double door started to swing open, as Andrea pushed through. I glanced back at the door lady, who gave me a sly smile. She'd had a heads up I was coming, and then had probably texted Andrea when my name and appearance were confirmed.

Andrea walked over, saying, "Hi. Come on with me." She gestured with her hand and I followed. Back through the double door, six or eight feet, and a right-hand corner, second door on the right-hand wall. Andrea used a hotel-type keycard, opened it, and in we went.

The space was large. There was her work space, with the desk and PC toward the middle with a few file cabinets behind her. On the right hand wall with the door was a large leather couch. Andrea stepped around and sat. On the left hand wall, across from the couch, were two cubes jutting into the room. One was small, the other hinting at a space at least as big as this main office beyond its door.

I propped myself on the arm of the couch near Andrea. Her hand crept up and held mine.

"Nitty-gritty time, Drew. What strikes your fancy? What do you enjoy when it comes to the ladies?"

I sighed. "Well...I like stout women. Chunky, but not necessarily immensely big and heavy."

"A little on the stocky side, maybe a little soft and nicely rounded in spots," Andrea clarified. "What else.?"

"Yeah," I said. "The last few years, I've liked big, fairly healthy butts. Big boobs. Ass worship, and face-sitting," I continued. I was silent for several seconds. Andrea let go of my hand and looped her arm near my waist. I stayed quiet. She studied my face.

"You're holding things out," she said, conveying the "shame on you...don't be scared," in her tone.

I sighed again. "I like some odd things," I hedged. I swallowed. "Can I have your lap?" I asked. Andrea laughed. "On or between?" she asked. "Between, if you can," I replied.

Andrea spread her legs, and deftly moved me forward and down onto the couch. She leaned in, and her tits pressed into my back. I surrendered and let my hard-on rage in my boxers. "You've been thinking of me," she said quietly.

"Yeah," I said, "I eyeballed your ass in the car lot earlier, and when I followed you in here. You got that chunky round figure, and a pretty face. Nice eyes and that lovely blonde hair," I admitted.

She laughed, then gave me a playful swat. "Probably forty is a tad old for you." I told her I was thirty-four. She smiled, then sighed. "I've heard a lot since this place became my business. Out with it. What are these other things? Don't think. Take a breath and talk. Blurt it out," Andrea ordered.

I took the breath, and I said, "I like golden showers. And it turns me on when I think about a lady taking a shit. On the toilet or squatting over me and letting it go. When I showered before I came, I wondered what it would be like for me if your lovely self did that to me." I swallowed, and was quiet.

Andrea was smiling. "That's fetish stuff. I do have one thirty-something girl here who enjoys the stuff you mentioned. She's wide, solid, with two amazing ass cheeks. We'll get her in in a minute. I've not done those things or ever been asked. A lot of that can get downright dirty. You want that from me?"

"Not the dirty aspects, or the humiliation. The woman doing the act, and watching the act, and having a sense of the results, is what turns me on," I clarified.

"We'll talk to Dana in a little while. We're going in the big room right now, and I'll give you what we call an erotic shower. Basically, we strap you standing in a big stall, and the lady of your choice does an entire soap and rinse for you, slowly, with emphasis on touch, and washing and watering certain areas. You don't do anything. I want to do yours," Andrea said to me.

"You expect me to master my hard-on?" I asked. "You're going to make it worse."

"I've seen a guy's cock stand up before," she said, stating the obvious. "Let's go."

Andrea walked over and swung the door open on the big cube. She went in. I followed, slowly. I reached the door, stepped in, and closed it. I was in a 12-foot-square room. Dead in the center was a 6-foot square shower enclosure, something you see in a mansion. It had multiple heads and a pair of sprayers on leads. The door had somewhat tinted glass. The stall was even lit in its ceiling.

Coming off one wall were a pair of wrist cuffs on 5-foot leads. On the floor, either side of one of the several drains, on three-foot leads, were the ankle cuffs. There was a chair on the near wall of the main room. I used it. Andrea walked over and knelt to remove my socks and shoes.

She told me to stand and removed my pants and boxers, then told me to lose my shirt. As we got to this custom shower, Andrea stopped and took off her shirt; no bra underneath. She was a very healthy D-cup for sure. She tugged her pants down and stepped out of them. She slid her panties down and kicked them off the end of her foot.

I stood and marveled at her figure. A soft pouch of belly directly below her tits, with a slight droop and one roll. Her skin was flawless, pale and smooth. My erection stirred. She had broad thighs, but not flabby. I entered the shower, and Andrea followed, carefully securing me in position at wrists and ankles. I gawked at the big, round melon-sized slabs of her ass cheeks. The water started. Andrea tested it and walked to me, grabbing a detachable sprayer.

She doused my hair. The water was hot, but only comfortably so. Shampoo went into her hands. My head was lathered, scrubbed, and thoroughly rinsed. Andrea stepped close and wet my torso front and back. She lathered a loofah and rubbed it elaborately over my chest and belly. Then she rubbed the soap around with her hands. She had great hands and ample practice with them. As they moved, it was like being subjected to a constant dose of low voltage electricity. My body hummed with a vibe while she worked.

She activated the sprayer with a weak stream; apparently this let the water run slowly down the skin, increasing pleasure. My dick stood ramrod straight. The hot water struck my stomach, and I felt the single droplets run on my skin. The soaping and rinsing was repeated on my back and legs and feet.

Andrea soaped and rinsed my arms. All that remained was my personal areas. She started with my brass ones, very gently. This I couldn't take. I carefully forced my dick down. Andrea worked. I relaxed and sent a stream of piss all over her right thigh. I moaned in relief.

Her hand flashed out and swatted my ass smartly, twice. "Watch it with that thing!" she said sternly. "Asshole," she said with a grin. Even her smile was pretty. She soaped and rinsed my ass, slowly, slapping each cheek repeatedly while she worked, with a fast, gentle pattern.

Across the stall on one wall was a padded bench. Andrea removed my cuffs and pointed. She led me over carefully and I sprawled on my belly. She directed the water up and down along my length. At one point, I watched her straddle the bench and sensed her squatting, until her butt met my lower back very subtly. She repeated, then stopped the water sprayer on my upper back and let it course down.

Andrea maintained the low squat, grabbing the edge of the bench with her free hand. A moment passed, then I felt something warm touch my back. Andrea squatted lower. Warmth pressed into my back, and I felt it move, sliding up and along. It continued sliding until it was just below the midpoint of my back.

Andrea straightened and sighed. Then the smell hit. Mildly rotten eggs. Andrea, you shit on me! I thought. I propped up and craned around. There, settled on a foot of my back, was a big healthy turd from the pretty blonde chunker's ass. Dark, dense, and smooth. The water died. Andrea set the sprayer down carefully. She announced that she was going to go get Dana in here.

She left and I settled back down and waited, secretly enjoying Andrea's gift on my back. She and Dana returned in less than three more minutes. Dana walked in and made her way over. She eyed the serious deposit resting on my back.

"Andrea, did you drop this load?" Dana asked, looking at her across the stall. Andrea put her hands on her hips and looked at the floor.

"Yes," she admitted quietly.

"It's nice," Dana congratulated her. Dana pulled a pair of latex gloves out of a pocket. She walked over and carefully lifted Andrea's gift off my back. She asked Andrea to check the outer office area. Andrea reported it clear. Dana stepped out into the office, and a moment later, I heard a toilet flush. Dana returned. I thanked her for taking care of me.

Andrea wet, soaped and rinsed my back, more detached about things now. I stepped out of the shower and dried and dressed. Andrea returned to her office while I accomplished this. When I entered the office, Dana was there.

"Are you still transferring files from my office to the basement?" she asked Dana. Dana answered yes.

"Take Drew. You guys can get to know each other some," Andrea said. Dana departed and I let her pass through the door.

"Do you really feel that bad for pooping on me?" I asked.

"Yeah. I wasn't trying to indulge you. I shouldn't have done it. Never done it to anyone before. I don't consider it enjoyable from a sexual standpoint," she clarified. "Now go find Dana. See if she wants to play to your fetishes."

"Don't feel bad. I enjoyed it. Thanks for the shower," I said. I stepped out the office door, around the corner, and farther down the hall stood Dana. At the opposite end of the hall from the lobby doors was an elevator. Dana gestured toward it. She went back into Andrea's office and returned carrying two boxes of files. We went down to the elevator.

We entered and let the doors close. Dana said, "I got a little heads-up from Andrea. You like big butts, huh?" She set the file boxes on the floor of the elevator. She stepped over close and said quietly in my ear, "She said you like to fantasize about women pooping for you too. Been there ,done that. You're better looking than most of the clients I've done it for. In a bit, I might have to take you with me and drop a load."

Just hearing her talk to me that way made me hard again. She reached over and gently groped my crotch. "I guess that's a yes," Dana decided.

Dana was about 5'8", more round than she was wide. Her butt was wider than her torso. She wore black jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt. Her hair was straight, cut in a bob that curled under slightly at her jawline. Her hair wads dyed pink.

Hair dye wasn't something that excited me with women, but it looked right on her, and I did find it attractive .

Dana's eyes were a soft brown. She had nice, ample breasts. Her voice was a tad lower than most women, and mellow. I liked hearing it.

The elevator hit the basement level and dinged as the doors opened. We stepped into a short hall, and went straight down to a door. There were two other doors on each side of the hall. Dana backed into the door ahead of us and opened it. She stood there while I passed by. She stepped away and let the door close.

We were in a large, carpeted room. It held roughly a dozen file cabinets on the other three walls away from the door. Dana wandered over and set both boxes of files near one on the left-hand wall. She popped the lids, grabbed files 3 or 4 at a time from the first box, and placed them in the appropriate drawer.

Dana made two more runs, two boxes each. I waited in the file room. She placed each box of files into separate drawers in the same cabinet as the first two boxes. I watched her move and bend and straighten the entire time she worked. I stared openly at her ass for short periods.

When she finished, we left the room and stood in the hall. "That's it," she said. "But nature calls. Yes, I have to poop," she added before I could ask. She pointed to the right-hand wall. "Second door,"she added. I walked down and she stepped past to open the door again. I entered.

She followed, moving past me to stand near the toilet. She pulled her jeans down and stepped out of them. Her panties, shirt, and bra followed. She lifted the lid and sat. Her torso reminded me of Andrea's, just a bit broader, tits a bit bigger. Her belly pouch was a bit farther down, but she sported a single roll of softness too.

She sat. "Come get pooped on," she invited.

"I'd prefer to sit with you the first time out," I decided.

"So come here," she repeated. I walked over, and Dana spread her legs and backed me in. "Like that?" she asked me. I said yes. "A little tight, but it'll work," she decided.

She looped her hands low on my belly, put her head on my left shoulder, and let her eyes drift down. "Shit! Why are you hard already?" she scolded.

"I told you. It's the act, and the physical result."

"So you gotta have a look when I'm done?" she asked. I nodded. She leaned into my back. "My boobs are gonna push you off here," she noted. I told her I'd live. She relaxed. "Never had anybody sit with me before."

I felt her take a breath and let it out. She gripped my belly a bit tighter, and looped her other arm across my lower chest. She passed gas, like a long note on a tuba, then it crackled, echoing wickedly in the bowl. She breathed again, delivering another loud rumble. A third wildly long delivery.

Dana took another breath, and I felt her belly shift. Her thighs clamped me tight. She grunted, and it became a moan. I sensed the turd moving out of her, and then I heard a heavy splash, as it dropped into the toilet.

"Felt so good. God," Dana noted.

"Done?" I asked quietly.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "So get the hell off me, you lug," she joked, shoving me gently. I planted my hands carefully on her thighs and stood. She took me by the waist, very gently, to steady me.