#Barbara Metzger

[pippapassed]

The Virtue of Scandal

Richard Redgrave The Governess oil painting, 1844. Detail.  Victoria and Albert Museum, London “You’re a governess?” To save her younger brother from poverty and her country from invasion, Simone must sound like anything but an English governess. The audiobook version of Barbara Metzger’s Regency Romance THE SCANDALOUS LIFE OF A TRUE LADY is now available on Audible UK, Audible US, Amazon and…

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#acting process #Audible #audiobooks #Barbara Metzger #cat #cats #comedy #Fantasy #feminism in Regency Romance #fiction #governesses #narration #Oscar Wilde #Regency Romance #Richard Redgrave #Romance #Romantic Comedy #The Scandalous Life of a True Lady #The truth is rarely pure and never simple #truth-telling #Voice #working women

[sacredwhores]

Radley Metzger - Barbara Broadcast (1977)

#film #radley metzger #barbara broadcast #1977

[giutah]

Barbara Broadcast (1977), dir. Radley Metzger

#barbara broadcast #radley metzger #movie

[sesiondemadrugada]

The Flesh Eaters (Jack Curtis, 1964).

#the flesh eaters #jack curtis #the flesh eaters (1964) #carson davidson #radley metzger #roy benson #martin kosleck #byron sanders #barbara wilkin

[garethllane]

FILM LOG || March 2024

★★★★★ - Blonde Ambition, Lem Amero and John Amero (1981) ★★★★☆ - Salo, or the 120 Days of Sodom, Pier Paolo Pasolini (1975) ★★★★☆ - Theorem, Pier Paolo Pasolini (1968) ★★★★☆ - Wild at Heart, David Lynch (1990) ★★★★☆ - Chatterbox!, Tom DeSimone (1977) ★★★★☆ - Barbara Broadcast, Radley Metzger (1977) ★★★★☆ - Peeping Tom, Michael Powell (1960) ★★★★☆ - Streets of Fire, Walter Hill (1984) ★★★★☆ - Women in New York, Rainer Werner Fassbinder (1977) ★★★★☆ - Shock Corridor, Samuel Fueller (1963) ★★★★☆ - Pumping Iron, George Butler and Robert Fiore (1977) ★★★★☆ - Rapture, Ivan Zulueta (1979) ★★★★☆ - Superstar: Karen Carpenter Story, Todd Haynes (1987) ★★★★☆ - Pumping Iron II: The Women, George Butler (1985) ★★★☆☆ - Muscle, Hisayasu Sato (1989) ★★★☆☆ - The Death of Maria Malibran, Werner Schroeter (1972) ★★★☆☆ - Reform School Girls, Tom DeSimone (1986) ★★★☆☆ - Hell Night, Tom DeSimone (1981) ★★★☆☆ - Angel III: The Final Chapter, Tom DeSimone (1988) ★★★☆☆ - Mary Jane's Not a Virgin Anymore, Sarah Jacobson (1996) ★★★☆☆ - Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, Howard Hawks (1953) ★★★☆☆ - Death on the Beach, Enrique Gomez Vadillo (1991) ★★★☆☆ - Erotikus, Tom DeSimone (1973) ★★★☆☆ - I'm Going to Get You Elliot Boy, Ed Forsyth (1971) ★★★☆☆ - Mondo Trasho, John Waters (1969) ★★★☆☆ - Nighthawks, Ron Peck (1978) ★★★☆☆ - Bloody Muscle Body Builder, Shinichi Fukazawa (1995) ★★★☆☆ - Fortune and Men's Eyes, Harvey Hart (1971) ★★★☆☆ - She Devils on Wheels, Hershell Gordon Lewis (1968) ★★☆☆☆ - Jail Bait, Ed Wood (1954) ★★☆☆☆ - Athena, Richard Thorpe (1954) ★★☆☆☆ - Flaming Creatures, Jack Smith (1963) ★★☆☆☆ - The Hunger, Tony Scott (1983) ★★☆☆☆ - Jesus Christ Superstar, Norman Jewison (1973) ★★☆☆☆ - Beefcake, Thom Fitzgerald (1998) ★★☆☆☆ - Partners, James Burrows (1982)

Shorts:

★★★★☆ - La Ricotta, Pier Paolo Passolini (1963) ★★★★☆ - I Was a Teenage Serial Killer, Sarah Jacobson (1993) ★★★☆☆ - Le Plus Del Homme Du Monde, Jean Mineur (1948) ★★★☆☆ - Sins of the Fleshapoids, Mike Kuchar (1965) ★★☆☆☆ - Ed Fury on the Beach, Bob Mizer (1960)

[0nthebalcony]

John Latham 1921–2006

Man Caught Up with a Yellow Object

1954

Oil on board

H 122.1 x W 97.7 cm

Tate, London

© courtesy The John Latham Foundation. Photo credit: Tate

John Latham: British artist and theorist, born in Livingstone, Northern Rhodesia (now Maramba, Zambia). After serving in the Royal Navy in the Second World War, he studied at Chelsea School of Art, 1946–50. Latham was best known for work in which he used books as raw material. In 1958 he began making ‘skoob’ (‘books’ spelt backwards) reliefs, and in the 1960s he was involved in *Happenings that he called Skoob Tower Ceremonies, in which sculptures made of piles of books were ritually burned—‘to put the proposition into mind that perhaps the cultural base has been burned out’. His most famous gesture came in 1966, when—as a part-time lecturer at *St Martin's School of Art—he borrowed a copy of Clement *Greenberg's Art and Culture from the library and with the sculptor Barry *Flanagan, alongside invited guests, chewed up pages and immersed them in acid to produce a ‘culture’.

Some months later he was requested to return the book by the librarian. He was told it was urgently needed by a student. Shortly after attempting to return the remnants, his contract was terminated. The work created by the chewed pages—entitled Art and Culture—was bought by the Museum of Modern Art, New York, in 1970. In 1966 Latham took part in the Destruction in Art Symposium alongside *Metzger at the *Institute of Contemporary Arts, London. Out of this he founded the Artist Placement Group (later called O + I) with his wife, Barbara Steveni. The intention was to make links between artists and industry. An exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, London, in 1971 publicized his ideas more widely. Although the *Arts Council withdrew funding in 1972 on the grounds that the APG was more concerned with social engineering than with art, the organization continued to make links with business and government organizations. Latham's ultimate concern was not just to find work for artists but to use their input to achieve social change according to a complex theory of the ‘event structure’. His ideas were widely mocked within the art world during the 1970s, partly because, in a climate strongly affected by Marxism, the whole idea of collaboration with business seemed hopelessly conformist. His conception of ‘time-based events’ was greeted by one correspondent to *Art Monthly with the riposte that all events have to be time-based because ‘they get awfully short otherwise’. However, shorn of a philosophy which perhaps only Latham and a few associates entirely understood, the basic practical notion has survived in a changed social and political climate. http://www.tate.org.uk/learning/artistsinfocus/apg/ Resource on the Artist Placement Group on the Tate website.

Source: A Dictionary of Modern and Contemporary Art (Oxford University Press) Second Edition, 2009.

#john latham #British Art 1945 - 1965 #tate london

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Venus in Furs (Franco, 1969)

The fact that I ended up watching this right after a first time viewing of Roger Corman’s The Trip probably did it no favours. Compared to that movie’s delirious editing style, the stabs at psychedelia, especially without the fluidity of Jess Franco’s later films, did not feel especially potent. Perhaps I will gel to this more with another viewing. 

This has a similar plot to She Killed in Ecstasy (and probably a dozen other of Franco’s films, given his penchant for recycling material), and I do think it suffers in comparison. You can see what Soledad Miranda does in that movie with her eyes and the urgency she brings to her performance, and the psychic resonance Franco gets from meeting her stare with his camera. While I enjoyed looking at Maria Rohm for obvious reasons, I don’t think that relationship between the star and the camera is nearly as potent in this one. I also don’t think James Darren is all that interesting as an audience surrogate, although I did get a chuckle out of the shot of him mournfully playing his trumpet on the beach. 

The most penetrating stare here is by Klaus Kinski, who has the very questionable role of a sultan, although he thankfully isn’t slathered in brownface. To be honest, I wanted more of him, and Barbara McNair, as Darren’s unusually patient girlfriend, and Paul Muller, who refers to some honeys at a party as “delicious females”, rather than Rohm and Darren. (Also keep an eye out for Franco himself as a jazz musician.)

I will say that this might be easier to digest for those not already converted to the cult of Franco, as it feels enough like the arty, sexy fare that was in vogue during the late ‘60s. There’s a nice sense of jet set exotica to this, with all the Istanbul location footage. Shuffle this in with some Metzgers, some Lenzis, maybe even some Fellinis and it would feel right at home.

#film #movie review #venus in furs #jess franco

[soulstar]

Review: Lady Sparrow by Barbara Metzger

Review: Lady Sparrow by Barbara Metzger

Lady Sparrow by Barbara Metzger My rating: [rating=4]

This was a fun read. It has plenty of those little tongue-in-cheek moments and wry asides that I like about Barbara Metzger’s books. It’s not all fluffy braincandy, but even the more serious subjects are kept fairly light. Not so much that it glosses over them, though. Will probably read again one day.

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#4 stars #author: barbara metzger #braincandy #ebook #family feuds #goodreads review #historical #regency #romance #siblings

[buggie-hagen]

A,B,F,G,H,I,J,K,M,X,Y,Z!

A: What’s the first book you see with a red spine? In my backpack currently there is A Textual Commentary on the Greek New Testament - 2nd Edition edited by Bruce M. Metzger. It is red.

B: What’s your most expensive book? What immediately jumps to mind is my The Oxford Handbook of Islamic Theology edited by Sabine Schmidtke. Though way cheaper now, it was over $100 or so when I bought it. Upon further thinking, I realize my Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament edited by Koehler and Baumgartner is just about three times more expensive. 

F: What’s your regular order at Starbucks? Grande blonde roast.

G: What’s your favorite reading spot? Currently a book and wine bar in my town.

H: What’s the longest book you’ve ever read? I suppose the easy answer is the Bible is the longest book I’ve ever read. (now about five times in my lifetime). Other relatively long books I’ve read are The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco or The Once and Future King by T. H. White. Maybe The Bondage of the Will by Martin Luther, or his Against Latomus. I remember Origen’s Commentary on the Gospel of Matthew to be pretty long. Irenaeus Against the Heresies was five volumes.

I: Do you have a favorite poet? This is a hard question for me because I don’t read nearly as much poetry as I would like. In college I took a class on English Literature that included poets like William Blake. But, it’s been so long I don’t recall what I particularly enjoyed and by whom. I seem to have been impacted by a poet who wrote something about an albatross, but I don’t remember who or what it was. If musical lyrics count as poetry, I have liked the likes of dodie Clark or Sufjan Stevens.

J: Favorite woman writer? I have liked a lot of the theological work of Kathryn Kleinhans. Barbara Rossing on the topics Revelation, eschatology, and apocalyptic is quite illuminating. For non-theological books, I’ve liked Suzanne Collins, Tara Westover. I was captivated by Heather Morris.

K: Favorite male writer? Clearly I have an affinity for Martin Luther. But also Philip Melanchthon and Johannes Bugenhagen, together the triumvirate of the Reformation. Gerhard Forde, Steven Paulson, and Adam Morton are contemporary favorites. As well as my beloved professor Kurt Hendel. For non-theological it is harder. Perhaps you can count Umberto Eco. 

M: Favorite classic? Hmmm. Much Ado About Nothing was something I remember reading in high school that I enjoyed. I’m not sure about other classics. 

X: What book has your favorite cover art? Generally I toss away the dust jackets on books. I like the cover art on Word of Life: Introducing Lutheran Hermeneutics by Timothy J. Wengert.

Y: Do you have a favorite quote? Yes. “And this is the reason why our theology is certain: it snatches us away from ourselves and places us outside ourselves, so that we do not depend on our own strength, conscience, experience, person, or works but depend on that which is outside ourselves, that is, on the promise and truth of God, which cannot deceive.” ~Martin Luther

Z: If you wrote a book, what would it be about? I could possibly write a book centering ‘justification by faith’ for any kind of affirmative LGBT theology, which currently there isn’t a book that does this. I could write a book of confirmation curriculum. I have pondered writing a theological poetry book. I wouldn’t mind writing a gay romance book. 

[darkpuck]

Tag 9 people you want to know better/to catch up with.

Last Song: Spooky Scary Skeletons -- Andrew Gold Last Movie: Black Panther Currently Watching: Death in Paradise Currently Reading: Killashandra by Anne McCaffrey and An Enchanted Affair by Barbara Metzger Currently Craving: A full on five-course wine dinner. :|

Tagged by: @suzukiblu​  Tagging: @plotdesigner, @sw087, @fyrasha, @bluebookwyrm, and everyone else who wants to do the thing

#puckish ramblings no one cares about

[pippapassed]

Wishing Everyone A Magical Winter Fantasy

I am honoured to have narrated three Christmas-themed books written by the late Barbara Metzger, much-loved writer of Regency Romance. She had a unique gift for balancing romance between iconic characters – usually accompanied by irresistible dogs or cats – with mischievous wit, slapstick comedy and the redemptive power of fantasy. Celebrate the magic of Christmas and welcome the new year by…

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#An Enchanted Christmas #Barbara Metzger #Childhood #Christmas #comedy #escape #family #Fantasy #Father Christmas #fiction #Greetings of the Season #Love #magic #mother #Pippa Rathborne #Regency Romance #Romance #stepfamily #stepfather #winter

[sacredwhores]

Radley Metzger - Barbara Broadcast (1977)

#film #radley metzger #barbara broadcast #annette haven #susan mcbain #1977

[classicallycara]

#barbara broadcast #radley metzger #constance money

[watching-pictures-move]

Barbara Broadcast (Metzger, 1977)

#film #barbara broadcast #radley metzger #my screencaps

[mygiantesslove]

Mother & Son: Underfoot by Azra

Chapter 11

Debra turned around and popped her little son back into her butt. Squeezing him between her cheeks she briefly registered him opening his mouth to let her ass-flesh in, as she had taught him to do so many times before, as the sound of his moaning became more and more faint until finally, with Phil wedged in the deepest, softest part of her ass, she could barely hear him. As she pulled up her panties it lessened still more and by the time she had squeezed into her custom-fitted Armani pants, there were only the exquisite vibrations of his screaming traveling the short distance from his mouth up her sensitive little anus.

Absent-mindedly she began squeezing him as she packed her case and finished dressing for the day. Again and again, he was reminded that his mother's ass owned him and that was where he belonged. She meanwhile was simply having breakfast - sliced oranges, fresh juice, light cereal and french toast. It was wonderful, and she could already feel her son lapping away at her buttcrack, trying to pry some form off sustenance from the hardened excrement in there. Her crotch tingled as she bit into a delicious slice of fresh orange, there was nothing to compare to having molded her son to voluntarily worship her own ass.

Finally, when she was done Mrs. Metzger plucked her car keys up off the dresser and bent down to pick up her attache case. Her she paused, with her buttocks fully expanded and pressed against her tight Armani pants.

"Now, pay attention sweetie, because your role is very important. Today, mommy needs you to help her make a good impression on our new clients. To do that, I want you to push your little head between my buttocks and up into my asshole, so that when you hear mommy's bowels rumbling you can start taking good deep breaths and absorb all the gas that builds up before it squeaks out past your face. I'd feel much more in control if I knew only you have to smell my farts. Oh, and do remember to do as I say, sweetie, because I know you can hear me because of my voice vibrating down into you through my flesh when I trap you between my big, meaty cheeks. Otherwise, mommy will have to punish you accordingly." Debra said, proceeding to clench her cheeks to show she meant business.

It was a short elevator ride from her penthouse to the underground parking complex but she used it to run a short mental checklist; clothes, phone, keys, files, son in butt, breakfast, check - ah! She had to check with Eve about her appointments for the day.

It was a chilly day so Debra made full use of her luxury Ranger Rover's heated seats, which to be honest always made her rump quite sweaty. It was a ten-minute drive to work down the main roads but she preferred to go hard down the side-streets. She turned hard into the driveway to her company's underground lot. She had quietly admitted to herself that while it was most rewarding to have her son voluntarily worship her ass, occasionally squishing him out of his wits between her cheeks had its own charming appeal.

The elevator was free. It was always free when it was your elevator. The door pinged as she reached her ground-level lobby and a pleasant female voice intoned

"Welcome to Bottom-Heavy Industries, where a Large Ass is the Seat of Happiness!"

She was quite proud of that one. She waved over to Barbara at the front desk as she strolled, past, wiggling her behind outrageously as the receptionist giggled. Being one of her confidantes, Barbara was well aware of Phil's plight between his mother's massive buttocks. Striding past the art-deco mosaic on the wall she paused briefly to admire it. Debra loved art-deco. That's why she'd chosen the style to remodel her new corporate headquarters. It was so indicative of a better time when everything and everyone was who and where they were meant to be. She'd also chosen the style for her corporate logo, which at first glance looked like a tesseract globe with the body of a man holding it up on his shoulders, but upon closer inspection it became obvious it was an enormous female bottom squashing a tiny male body, with his head just about to pop in between the crack. Officially she had dubbed it Volumnia and Coriolanus, but everyone in the company knew that it was modeled off of Debra squishing her son in her ass. It was a point of pride among the members of her all-female staff. Apparently the model and original print were on display in her private office.

The staff elevator took her the rest of the way to the top floor, given over entirely to her own executive office and a luxurious lobby which featured flowing water and a brace of Reubensque masterpieces. She stopped in to see Eve on the way into her office. Her little boy Adam was there. She asked him if he was helping his mommy with her secretary work. He said he was, like a good boy, but that he couldn't take her full weight for more than a minute without screaming. Nevermind honey, his mom said, mommy enjoyed that part too.

The doors to her office were always a treat. Debra pushed her cheeks around the handle, clenched, and twisted and the door slid open. She took extra care to shuffle around the office in her tight pants. Her large buttocks swelled and jiggled as she opened the expensive oaken shades to her top-floor suite, and bounced lightly as she dropped her attache case on her fine granite desk. She plopped happily down in her executive leather chair, and with the tap of an unseen button, the specially engineered chair delivered a welcomed massage to her back, thighs, and butt. Eyes closed in contentment, she reached out and plucked up the first memo awaiting her attention from the desk. Meeting: 8.15 - Jocasta Productions; Mdme Harukawa. She leaned back, the chair creaking slightly under her weight. It wasn't unusual for media outlets to seek the employment of Bottom Heavy Industries, she herself had modeled from AssDom Magazine with a fully-grown Phil as her sub but never had an entire television production company sought their attention before. She sipped thoughtfully from the coffee her secretary helpfully perched near her elbow. This could be fun.

*

"Mrs. Metzger? Madame Harukawa is here to see you."

It was 8.14. The woman had a sense of timing. "Thank you, Eve, send her in."

A few seconds later her black oak double doors opened and in sauntered Madame Harukawa, an Asian Reubenesque delight buxom in chest, belly, and bottom, decorated in a figure-hugging fashion that showed off every inch of her prodigious curves. She was smaller than Debra herself and slightly less toned, but when she flashed that smile and batted those eyes you would suddenly forget all of that.

Madame Harukawa looked around President Metzger's office. She thought she was obviously a very successful woman. The Venus Callipyge was the center of attention, occupying a grand, well-lit space behind the woman's desk, enclosed in what was surely alarmed glass and covered with cameras. Opposite it, just beside the doorway out of the room was a piece she didn't recognize, assumedly of Mrs. Metzger's own creation. In it, a buxom, plump, bottom-heavy woman, buck-naked, was standing triumphantly, arms outstretched in victory with a crown newly pressed on her head as a small, reedy man knelt behind her with his face buried in her buxom rump, his arms wrapped around her hips tightly with a tiny, wretched-looking crown almost falling off his head. Both members were fully aroused. She bent over to examine the title on the dais: Volumnia Defeats Coriolanus in Triumph. The mother of a Shakespearean story here looked shockingly like the head of the company she had come to visit. Madame Harukawa smiled. She believed she understood.

She walked over in front of Debra's desk and bowed curtly and politely. "Harukawa Nami." She smiled. Debra returned the bow. "Debra Metzger. Pleased to meet you Madame Harukawa, to what do I owe the grace of your visit?"

*

By 9am Debra and Nami were chatting away like old friends. Jocasta Productions, the television production company that Madame Harukawa represented, was a leader in the booming femdom television market and looking to expand into the country. They were working in a public-participation reality game show and were interested in Mrs. Metzger as a leading figure in the industry, and of course, her son too. They would participate in the game show and Bottom-Heavy Industries would get some free national face-time and the option of prime sponsorship. Debra was flattered and very keen on getting a deal done. Phil just kept trying to breathe. Debra felt rumbling in her bowels and then her little buttplug began squirming desperately. Debra tried not to smile too obviously. Her son was doing wonderful work.

"Well then," Madame Harukawa spoke in clipped English, "can you take him out please?"

Thank God I didn't wear him as a thong today, Debra thought. Phil hit the table with a light thud. "He'll be disorientated for a bit. There's little air in my butt and having my full weight on him takes it out of him, not to mention being constantly squeezed by my cheeks." After Madame Harukawa had a chance to inspect him, and he had recovered for a few minutes Debra carefully plucked her son off the table and dropped him into her high-heeled shoe. "There, now have fun with mommy's foot sweetie, and don't be afraid to jack off in there." She said, clamping his head in place with her big and middle toe and squishing him until his body went rigid. "Now, what were we saying?" She inquired of her guest.

After a while, their conversation began to talk about the mysterious concoction that Debra had been using all these years. "It is truly a remarkable and unique tonic." Nami intoned. "The ability to shrink a man and regrow him to natural size, it's well known that's what you based your company's great success on, but we are amazed it hasn't become more widespread in usage."

"Mmm." Debra nodded. "It's a complicated little mixture that's taken us years to patent, to be honest, I was amazed when the mail order nonsense I ordered worked, but once I found out it did I put every waking hour into having our company take theirs over brick by brick. As it turns out it was just some small collection of college girls with a particular gift for this particular branch of genetics. No business acumen, but keen to work. The potion is a wonder in itself - aside from the ability to shrink and grow her son, it seems to help a mother retain her beauty and sexual luster. I'm not getting any younger of course, but I have noticed my morning jogs getting easier over the years, a few wrinkles straightening out, my boobs and butt staying firm and round, that sort of thing, while at the same time keeping the son smaller and reedier. That part is still something of a mystery to us, but it seems to have something to do with the process of the mother dominating her son acting as a catalyst, rather than simply the potion acting on its own. Regardless essentially I give him the concoction and then fart in his face to shrink him, or give him the antidote and make him drink my foot sweat to grow him back to normal. The process only takes a couple of minutes, but the trigger is key and is an exclusive maternal bond - it has to be my fart being sniffed by my son, or the process will halt. The bond seems to be dormant in most mother-son relationships, and we've found no similar sequences available between brothers and sisters or mothers and daughters, or fathers at all, so it seems to be an exclusive genetic trait to allow mothers to dominate their son's lives." She smiled. "Looks like it was always meant to be that way."

She took a tiny water bottle out and pulled her foot out of her shoe, taking Phil with her. His head still trapped between her clenching toes she dropped a few mouthfuls of the potion into his mouth. "Come on Phil sweetie, drink up!" She encouraged him, setting him down and rubbing the sweaty sole of her foot over his face, encouraging him to lick and swallow her foot sweat. Nami found herself getting wet at the site of the little boy willingly drinking his own mother's foot sweat, but that was nothing compared to what happened next.

*

Phil woke up. He found himself full-sized and naked in his mom's office, lying in front of her and an attractive if older and heavy-set Asian woman. She winked naughtily and blew him a kiss.

"Phil sweetie, Madame Harukawa and I want to use you for a little fun. Why don't you go over to our little love seat and lie down?" His mom ordered, patting him on the cheek with her bare foot.

"I - I guess so, mom." He replied. He tried to resist as he was in company, but in the end quickly turned and buried his face in his mom's sole, kissing it quickly. Both ladies got a chuckle out of that.

Phil walked over to the wooden and leather seating device his mom had made especially for them, and laid down on it. His mom invited her guest over and as both full-bodied businesswomen walked over Phil got a little nervous, and a little aroused. His mom as always took his face, squashing it under her immense ass, but now Madame Harukawa's large rump, not as big but just as solid, settled over his crotch and pressed down heavily. He was now being squashed by two enormous female bottoms at the same time. Both women faced each other, their enormous thighs straddling Phil in the cowgirl position, another indignity his mom enjoyed, waiting for the inevitable exquisite squirming and vibrations when he began to run out of air and couldn't take the strain or smell anymore. They did not have long to wait, and both women moaned as Phil's pained moans and thrashings brought them extravagant pleasure. Barely able to move through the pleasure, Debra insisted they both remain seated on her son after he lost consciousness, waiting for a little surprise - Phil's erections finally overflowed as he came a full thirty seconds after slipping into unconsciousness under his mother's smothering ass, sending both his squashers into mind-numbing orgasms. When Phil woke up he had been cleaned up and was chained behind his mom's desk, her standing just in front of him filling out some paperwork. He hesitantly kissed her bulbous buttocks to let her know he was awake.

"Mmm, such a good boy I've got." Mrs. Metzger purred, grabbing the back of Phil's head and rubbing it all over the back of her pants-covered rump, taking special care to run it up and down her crack. He moaned inwardly, but then snapped awake and pulled back like he was bitten.

"You do not want to worship your mother's ass? Why? It is so large and full, and your head alone is such a perfect fit!"

"Oh, he just goes through these phases every now and then." Debra tutted. "Talking about getting out and finding a job and friends and a girl and generally just slacking off his duties. He still sleeps in my buttcrack at the end of the day."

Madame Harukawa pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps further bonding experiences are required. Our show will certainly be able to accommodate you."

"Well, I've repeatedly considered having a priest marry us, so at last I can legally say my ass owns his face. I also think it'd give him a strong bond to cling to, it'd be good for him to support a wife, even if it is his mother's ass."

"Well, he seems to be supporting your ass very well as it is!" And they both laughed loudly, not really noticing Phil's member growing as they spoke.

"Indeed. Oftentimes I won't even bother with the big massage chair and I'll just chain him back behind my desk and sit on his face all day. There's nothing like having your son sniff your farts all day as you sit on his face, knowing he'd love to be between some girl's big knockers but instead is between his mom's heavy ass-cheeks." She giggled, and Madame Harukawa laughed too. "Sometimes I'll smother him with my big, heavy boobs to show him what he's missing. Sometimes I'll just wrap my big, thick thighs around his head and squeeze him so hard he passes out, and when he wakes up I'll have him massage my legs and tell me how good it feels while I do him again. Sometimes I'll wear him like a thong with his face buried up my ass and his little arms hugging my butt. Sometimes I'll stand on him and have him smell my feet for days." "Ah! Just now I see him reach for your feet with his hands! His feels his palms match your soles even though they smell and walk on him, he believes it his proper place! This is the bond between two people that can only come about by a mother dominating her son, molding him into her perfect sub for years." Phil tried not to hear anything, pushing his face deeper into his mom's buttocks and focusing on the sound of her bowels over his head. Debra just smirked, and slowly and meaningfully linked her toes with her darling son's fingers, resting her feet heavily on his hands. Phil held them tightly, focusing on their soft, smelly texture. He pulled his face out of its buttcleft-home unsuredly.

"But I was thinking maybe I don't have to just worship your ass and your feet mom. Maybe I could go out and do my own thing from time to time - see movies, maybe find work or meet new people. I - I promise I wouldn't cheat on your ass or anything. I just want some friends ..."

"But your head is so good for this!" She said, and sat Mrs. Metzger back onto her son's face, watching it slowly consume it. "See? Not a shred of your head left to the outside world! And look how perfectly your face fits into her butt-crack, Romeo and Juliet could not have fitted better together! Your face fits into the cleft of her ass like poetry! I have never been so moved! Truly, it is destiny that your mother's ass and your face belong together!"

"Ooh!" Mrs. Metzger sat back heavily on her son, smothering him out. "Oh, now there's poetry for you! Nami dear, let's get this contract settled tomorrow, I think we're both agreed it's a good idea."

Madame Harukawa rose happily from her seat and extended her hand. "Congratulations! Soon, the whole world will know that your son's face and your ass are meant to be! Millions will watch the perfect union of son's face and maternal ass!"

*

At the end of the day, President Metzger sauntered over to her main window, tired but happy, and pulled down her oaken shades once more. The mood lighting instantly activated and the room was bathed in a warming pale glow. Her attache case appeared in her hand as she shut her laptop down and locked her fancy office door. The walk to her car seemed shorter today - tomorrow was full of prospects; a brand new tv deal, greater exposure for the company and some personal face time for her and her son. She clicked the car door open from twenty feet and when she'd finally shut it behind her she was free to quietly pull her son from her butt-crack and drop him on the driver's seat. Pulling down her Armani pants and panties she pulled her left buttock open with one hand and started explosively farting on her little son. Exultant to finally get to release the gas she'd pent up in her bowels all day Debra didn't even take the time to sit on her little boy but kept her asshole a quarter inch from his face as she blew kiss after smelly kiss onto him. Though she wasn't physically touching him she smiled to see Phil twist and spasm as if in pain from her farts. She pinned his arms and legs with her buttocks and pressed her anus against his face. After five minutes of the smell, he began gibbering madly. Smelling nothing but his own mother's methane for a whole day straight had obviously had an impact on the little boy and he was now seeing asses everywhere. His mom decided to give him a real one as she plopped her ass back down on top of him and started the long journey home.

When Phil awoke he was in the massage chair on his own. He was in their rec room on the large full-massage leather, and he felt quite recovered from his bad trip earlier. He would have to thank his mom for being so nice as to give him such luxurious time to recover and, he sniffed, cleaning and bathing him. His mom appeared then, dressed in her light pink bathrobe, her hair soaking wet and wrapped in a towel, a pitcher of mojito in each hand. Turning around, she put each drink down on either side of the massage chair and casually flipped up the seat of her robes, exposing her gargantuan, round buttocks. She didn't even need to crook a finger before Phil had bounced over and jumped into the crack of her ass. Plopping down into the chair where just seconds ago her son was, Debra, spread out and began talking to him as he lay locked in her ass, the vibrations of his body helping the massage chair reach places it normally couldn't. "Big news today sweetie. We put a massive deal through with a television company, it's going to mean a lot more business and exposure for the company. Big time rewards for both of us! We're going to be on TV together, doing what we do best: me sitting on your face as you kiss my ass! You'll have another important job; the most important thing in the world for you until that show is your nose staying up my ass all the time and sniffing as much as you can! Not that it isn't normal." She giggled. "I'm treating myself to a nice, relaxing evening in front of the big screen." She cooed, pulling a lemony drink to her lips and flicking on the enormous flat screen tv remote. Jocasta Productions had sent one of their creations, Oedipus of the East, over free of charge, and she intended to get a look at it. It turned out to be an erotic east-Asian retelling of the Oedipus myth, where a full-bodied, amazonian bbw Jocasta had dominated her scrawny child-prince until he was forced away from the royal castle. Years later when they were married they rediscovered their maternal relationship by how familiar the new king's face felt in between his mother's enormous buttocks. Debra quite liked it - both the affirmative, dominating role of the mother in the story and the new ending where rather than putting out his eyes Oedipus's face is sealed into his mother's ass by the goddess Aphrodite, who found the whole situation very amusing and blessed the happy, son-smothering queen's reign for many years.

"And my reward?" Phil queried through a mouthful of maternal butt.

"You're getting it." She smirked.

She kept him there for the rest of the evening until the vibrations from the chair eventually forced his whole head up into her anus at a particularly romantic point of the movie and almost made her pass out in pleasure.

By the time Phil had recovered from this onslaught, he'd been fully grown again, and found his mother waiting in front of him, facing away. Told it was time for bed, Phil dutifully pressed his face into his mother's bottom and followed her to their master bedroom, where she would attach a leather thong around her hips and his face, wedging it in there tightly. Her onion booty closed around his head again, a mother trapping her son's face in her ass once again. A clap of her hands and all the lights of the room faded as the skylight opened, showcasing a beautiful starry night. No moon though, Debra thought. Well, except for Phil of course. He's got two of them right in his face.

#giantess #g/t #g/t writing #butt crush

[pippapassed]

Mourning becomes her

 Regency Fashion Plate of woman and child in Mourning Metropolitan Museum of Art ‘What was one more opinion about the future of European politics compared to the fate of two little boys?’ The audiobook version of Barbara Metzger’s celebration of adoption and stepfamily love, a precious gift wrapped inside a Regency Romance, narrated by Pippa Rathborne FATHER CHRISTMAS Now available on Audible UK,…

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#adoption #An Enchanted Christmas #Audible #audio #audiobooks #Barbara Metzger #Childhood #children #Christmas #comedy #dolls #Father Christmas #fiction #joy #Love #mourning #narration #parenting #Regency fashion #Regency Romance #self-awareness #self-consciousness #stepfamily #Voice #widow