Bigger Down There Ch. 09

1 Ocak 2021 0 Yazar: admin


Thank you all for your kind responses to my previous chapters, and sorry to those who have been waiting for Chapter 9. I have had a couple of minor setbacks recently including some light surgery and a terminal laptop failure, but I am catching up. This is a stand-alone Chapter which is more about me as a person. Normal writing is being resumed and I aim to have the next Chapter on line soon.


If there was an equivalent of Alcoholics Anonymous for people like myself, I would probably have to make an introduction along the lines of ‘my name is Andrea, and I’m an obsessive.’ In my case, it is one particular area of my body, or more specifically, my anatomy that I am obsessed about. My obsession started early, and if anything, it has an even greater hold over me now than it did at the beginning.

I am Andrea, I am reaching my mid-twenties, fairly athletic in appearance with shoulder length dirty blond hair, and I am currently completing a nursing degree in adult nursing. My natural hair colour is a sort of a copper brown (almost auburn), and it was quite short, but I have been letting it grow out, and more recently have been dying it, but the underlying colour isn’t helping to get a full-on blond effect. I’m medium height (mid 5 feet), and am in pretty reasonable shape having been a hockey player since my schooldays, and actually enjoy gym work and swimming. If I had to categorise myself, I would say that I am a bit of a tomboy as I am not really into the sort of girly things that one would expect for a female of my age.

I am in a somewhat unusual, or at least unconventional relationship in that I am co-habiting with the mother of my best friend with whom I went to school.

I have always been able derive the most exquisite feelings from diddling myself, and it would be fair to say that at least in terms of my genitalia, I was an early developer, and I have been abusing my girly bits for some time.

I probably wouldn’t have given things a second thought, but once I started using communal showers or changing rooms, I quickly became aware that I was rather more developed than most of the other females around me.

I was never self-conscious about that — in fact I rather liked (and still do like) being ‘different’. Thje opening to my cleft started noticeably higher up than anything comparable that I could glimpse in those changing rooms and showers, and my lips hung down neatly and were much more visible than those of my fellow team-mates or competitors.

I spent pretty much every afternoon when I got home playing with myself, and it wasn’t long before this went a lot further. Instead of just running my fingers over my glazed slit, I started to probe them into my slot, and even when I started, I could take two with considerable ease, and if I was suitably aroused (which wasn’t difficult), three became the norm.

That feeling of pushing three fingers into myself became very consuming. I liked the build-up to getting the third finger in, and more importantly the way it felt when my juicy hole had expanded to encase the third digit. Best of all was how I looked afterwards, with my lips slowly closing up as I withdrew my fingers, and I spent many happy minutes gazing into my hand held mirror to see the effect.

It didn’t take long before my fingers weren’t quite enough, so I began to look for items that with a little bit of effort would fit me better and pleasure me more, and for longer. Roll-on deodorant bottles were a particular favourite, and the small 100ml body sprays (the aerosol type) became a firm favourite — slightly thicker than the plastic roll-on deodorant bottles and longer.

Before long, once a day wasn’t enough, so I was doing it twice a day, when I got home, and then when I went to bed at night. Occasionally, if time permitted during breaks, I would do it during the day as well. To put it bluntly, masturbation was (and still is) a compulsion.

By the time I started my ‘A’ Levels, I was insatiable. I would day-dream about what I could use later on, always seeking out bigger items, and already, I was acutely aware that I was potentially loosening myself to lasting effect.

However, that thought was not about to stop me doing what I loved. There were evenings where I drifted off to sleep imagining of a gaping vagina that would never quite close up.

My recreation was not restricted to fingering my hole. My labia really came in for some treatment. I could spend longer pulling out, and stretching my lips than I would on filling my hungry snatch, and I mean really tugging on them. I knew that I wanted my lips to match, or be in proportion to the size of the fuck hole I aspired to have.

I have a quite vivid imagination, so my jumbled up (and some would say misguided) brain would conjure up all kinds of visionary snippets to aid my masturbation. To many, the sort of things that were entering my head would be perverted or obscene, and included middle aged women with over used, heavily stretched out vaginas illegal bahis that resulted from extreme fucking or very big insertions. Unfeasibly large, drooping fanny lips would be another thing that would flash through my mind’s eye as I got myself off.

As my imagination ran riot, so too did my vocabulary. I don’t think that I ever consciously thought of myself having a ‘pussy,’ neither was it a word that would run through my brain as I was masturbating. It just seemed like a word that would be used to describe a little slit, and was therefore not an apt description for me. ‘Hole,’ fuck hole,’ twat,’ ‘snatch,’ ‘fanny,’ ‘slot,’ all of these and more were the words that I would be whispering to myself as I worked myself up. Then I discovered the ‘C’ word. I thought it was the most beautiful, earthy, filthy and descriptive word all rolled into one that I’d ever heard, and that became the term that I used the most when I was abusing myself, and continue to use. The word itself is almost an aphrodisiac to me on its own.

In the last two or three years, my life has taken on a trajectory that has ended up being slightly different to the one that I had expected I would follow. Whilst I love the beauty of a female’s anatomy, I had not really considered myself as exclusively lesbian, even though I had spent a good deal of my time looking for exposed fanny’s in changing rooms and showers, and most of my thoughts during a full-on masturbation session tended towards genitals that I had seen, or dreamed about in my fantasies.

My closest friend Sam, (who is probably best described as an exhibitionist), never made even the slightest attempt to hide what she had between her athletic thighs, and I rarely lost the opportunity to look (or perhaps that should be ‘perv’).

This would always have an effect on me, and as we spent more and more time together, her exposure became more blatant. My frequent stays at her house usually ended up with time in her room where she seemingly couldn’t wait to strip off. She was, and remains a born nudist, and I have never come across another person who could be utterly devoid of clothes, yet somehow not look naked. Moreover, she would put herself into a position where her girly bits were on full display, and she would encourage me to show myself to her, She especially seemed to take pleasure in talking about my own genitals, how big I was down there, and the like.

You can read about the events that led up to my current lifestyle in the early chapters of ‘Bigger Down There’, but for the purposes of this, let’s just say that although Sam threw away some titbits about her Mum (Helen), I had not necessarily put those comments into context, and over a period of time, discovered that I had competition in the size stakes.

Finding a way of getting a proper peek at Sam’s Mum became something of a self-imposed challenge to me, but when the time came, I was blown away, and subsequent events started to define who I am today.

The sight of the mature, magnificently lipped and massively holed womanly parts of Helen was mesmerising to me, and not only put me firmly on the road to my sexual leanings, but more importantly, convinced me that I had only just started on my preoccupation and subsequent fixation of stretching myself.

At the time of moving in to reside at Helens, we were not in any sort of relationship, and I had thought that that I was doing a half reasonable job on myself. I worked pretty much every day on stretching my lips (quite assertively), and getting more and more into myself. Before reaching twenty, I could take four fingers with little effort, and I had a multitude of other things to support my stretching efforts.

Soft drink cans — i.e. Coke or Pepsi, were a favourite (I had long since graduated from the body spray aerosols), and bottles, or at least the neck part of the bottles were especially satisfying. Cucumbers were good as they are rather easier to hold and manipulate, even though they are not quite as large as a can, although they do have a nicer ‘feel’ when inside you.

Not that I ever consciously measured it, but my slit then would have been about 5-6cm long and I had thought I was doing quite well.

The opening to my vagina — essentially the location of my clitoris was slightly higher than I have seen in most women (and therefore very visible), and the gap between my frenulum and anus (my perineum) was about a centimetre and a half (that I had measured!).

With a lot of help from Helen, and regular participation in what some would deem to be fairly extreme activities, I very happy that I am now a good bit bigger.

I’m sure that it can’t be, but my mons appears to be higher than it was, and my frenulum is much closer to my anal opening than it was. The slit itself is comfortably over 7cm, (perhaps, and hopefully closer to 8 which would be a real achievement).

If Helen places her hands palm-to-palm, I can accommodate all eight fingers with ease, as well as some of her larger toys. illegal bahis siteleri Helen’s Doc Johnson American Bombshell ‘Triple Ripples’ is especially satisfying, and I can also manage her Doc Johnson American Bombshell ‘B-10’ which has a circumference of 25cm or 10 inches, but it takes some working up to.

Fruit and Veg work well, and butternut squashed are perfect for stretching pleasure because of the long length and increasing girth when you reach the bulbous part. It’s good and firm and features a nicely radiussed end which is ideal for opening you up. Similarly, an old fashioned British milk bottle ticks all the boxes — very smooth, thick-ish to start with, with a perfect, gently increasing taper leading to its full diameter which is about 8cm. The newer ones are not so good because the diameter change between the neck and the main part of the bottle is over too short a length.

My most dominant feature is my lips which hang in an almost slovenly way and with a more or less permanent gape in that for the main part, the outermost extremities of my lips rarely touch snugly together. They are extremely visible, and if I am in a changing room or communal shower, I make no effort to hide them.

Depending on what I have been doing, the looseness of my hole can be a bit more evident, and it is quite fascinating to gauge people’s reactions. Of course there will always be those who either don’t look at all, or are skilfully discreet or subtle, but for every one of those, there is another type who cannot hide their surprise, and they are usually the most indiscreet observers. They catch a glimpse, and then their curiosity takes over, and they either stare, or no matter how hard they try, their eyes are repeatedly drawn back to the young woman with the overused, milf like cunt.

Showers usually provide the best entertainment. Alert watchers will get a snapshot, and as if in disbelief, and in an effort not to be too obvious, they will wait until I am washing my hair and then go for the full-on gawp. The early opening of my eyes almost always catches them out, and when they see that I am not shy, they are sometimes a little more transparent.

On a recent memorable occasion at our local swimming pool, Sam and I ended up in a cramped changing cubicle with another female, and she actually asked me if I had recently given birth. I was slightly taken aback by that as I had never really made the analogy, but I sort of understand why she may have thought that, and was secretly quite tickled by her observation.

However, what I like most, and what pushes me to continue with my proclivities are two things. Firstly, the exquisite feelings I get from being stretched and filled, and the after effect when my cunt hangs loosely open. It is quite difficult to describe to a person who has never experienced being really, really full, the pleasures that ping you.

I have not had penetrative sex with a man, but I imagine that you would feel the erection and resulting girth inside you, but unless you were very tight, probably only a certain percentage of your cunt passage would be in complete contact with the cock.

When you are filled by something that is bigger than you would routinely and sensibly take, your walls grip the phallus inside you 100%. In addition, you get the immense pleasure that comes from the elastic opening of your cunt being pulled taut in the extreme which heightens sensitivity on an altogether different level.

As a result, the clit is usually very exposed, and is subject to sensory overload. I’m probably not doing a good job of explaining the state of arousal this generates, but hopefully you are getting the idea.

But there is that second element. I am sure that for most people, this will seem a little odd, but for me it adds another dimension. I absolutely love the immediate aftermath of being stretched to the point that when the hands or device that is being used inside me are withdrawn, the walls of my cunt don’t touch. The emptiness is almost as sublime as the fullness, and is enough to make me cum again with very little intervention.

I get off on looking at the consequence of being stretched in a big way. I love the gape and adore watching the slow closure that follows the huge insertions. There are times when Helen will run her fingers around the inside of my loose lips after a thorough stretching, and it sends me overboard.

On top of all of that, stretching and being stretched remains an intimate experience immense proportions. The female anatomy is powerfully erotic on its own, and to my mind, a cunt is a thing of complete, and erotic beauty. However, giving yourself over to a physically attractive person who is a soul-mate and with whom you have a loving relationship in the knowledge that they are going to change you forever is an aphrodisiac of unequalled proportions for me.

In the early days of our relationship, Helen encouraged me to sleep with dildo pants on which would keep me full overnight. canlı bahis siteleri That did quite a lot for me, but the constant and repeated fisting over the last couple of years has had a very lasting effect, and the results definitely show.

On top of this, Helen has gradually introduced larger and larger toys into my willing snatch. It needs a lot of trust to allow somebody to take control of your genitals but I look forward to every session, no matter what is in store for me. She is always gentle (despite the words she sometimes uses to get my juices flowing) and takes her time.

It helps that I have Helens cavernous hole at my disposal, and seeing what she has achieved through thorough and constant spreading spurs me on. I derive as much pleasure from pushing her limits as I do from pushing my own. I have never felt that I have become large enough, or that it’s time to stop, and I cannot imagine that I ever would.

Neither Helen or I are dominant or submissive. We simply have a mutual desire to feed our appetites for stretching, and the sheer physicality of it.

Additionally, there are naughty side effects from possessing flappy labia lips. I tend towards wearing skirts more than jeans or other legwear because the seam around the crotch is a major, and often uncomfortable distraction. Skirts give me more freedom, and the feeling of my loose lips brushing the crotch of my panties is much more pleasing. I predominately wear cotton ‘brief’ type panties (Sloggi Basic Tai or even better, the Double Comfort Tai are my preferred cunt coverings) as they keep me in, and the cotton is super comfortable against my often sloppy hole. I need a couple of pairs a day as they do get messy — a side effect of my large girly bits being encased in, and caressed by soft cotton all day.

I know that Men (and many girls) prefer thongs, but believe me, they are never going to be sufficiently adequate to contain my womanly parts. I have used them in foreplay (my lips hanging down either side of the string like gusset is quite a sight), and as my lips are too weighty to be contained, it ends up being my clit that is closest to the fabric and for daywear that would be a nightmare!

Yoga pants or leggings are a different matter altogether. A Saturday or Sunday morning trip to the Supermarket wouldn’t be the same without leggings, and if I am feeling particularly adventurous I wear them without panties which is certain to get me in the mood for something perverse and sexual when we get home. I need to organise myself in them, and although having both lips to one side is provocatively arousing, having my lips either side of the crotch piece is always going to have me on the very edge by the time I get home, and I can often be juicing up profusely.

Home attire is usually just a tee shirt. The feeling of being bare down there is exquisite and allows me to either tease Helen (if she is in), or to lazily build myself up to a good cum over an hour or so as and when the mood takes me.

I am extremely happy and content with where my life is taking me, and I have met some amazing people along the way. Helen especially, but Sam has been (and still is) a big part of my journey, and I have been introduced to a couple of exceptional women.

One of those was a middle aged Austrian lady who works at the same hospital as Helen, and she puts me to shame. Everything about her genitalia is obscenely large, and although she lives with a man, she is very bisexual and enjoys giving and receiving when it comes to stretching. I will consider it an achievement if I get to be her size by the time I am her age, and I am not shy in admitting that she has unknowingly provided me with something to aim for.

My goal or objective is to be permanently loose. As I mentioned at the start of this piece, I have been obsessed by my cunt for years, and I’ve always wanted to be bigger. I don’t want a tight, little cunt. There was probably a time when I assumed that I would find a big guy who liked my size, but over time I have discovered that other women are both more interested and more interesting. Helen in particular is as infatuated as I am, and although I wouldn’t say that we look at a lot of porn, our searches are always in the area of huge or stretched cunts

It would be hard to explain how much it turns me on just looking at my own gash, and comparing it with Helen’s. We know each other very intimately now and I adore seeing her gaping slot with those epic lips hanging down and open – it really gets my juices going. I don’t feel that I have any limits, but I do have some ambitions. I want to get to the point where I can take two hands with ease (which Helen already can), and at the risk of repeating myself, I would like to be loose 100% of the time i.e. not closed up at all. I would add that I hope that that my relationship with Helen does not come over as any kind of dominance theme, because it genuinely is not like that – we are equally and well matched. We like sexually graphic talk (especially when we are having a particularly raunchy session), but we both talk it to each other, and we are into pleasure, not pain, although I will admit that there can be a blurred line between the two when we are having a big stretching session.