The Old Theatre

Just my side of the story. K.

I have never been in love, I refused to let it happen aside from work I refused to let anyone get close enough.

In my own eyes, I was a big fat ugly girl. I had my bit of luck and was now living a comfortable but fairly boring life punctuated by a monthly breath of fresh air.

I developed late. Not physically, mentally! My mum loved me but tried to live a life she never had through me. I had to have ballet lessons, I was the fat girl in Billy Elliot who fell over at all times.

Piano lessons as well. Actually, the piano lessons were good. My teacher was an old black lady, Celia. I loved Celia. I still love her now, when I go to visit mum, soon now I suppose! I go see Celia as well.

We at all times do a barrel house duet. We have swapped hands now as Ceila has a bit of rheumatism.

I liked her straight away, she was quite strict with her two boys. If they called me fatty and Ceila heard them she made them holler.

You need to keep boys on a short lead she told me. “What about men, I asked” no such thing girl snorted Celia. They never grow up. I laughed then. I’m still laughing now because as we say in Yorkshire “There’s nowt as funny as t’ truth.”

The boy’s dad had died in a coal mine accident. Ceila was giving middle-class prissy kids lesions to keep food on the table. Funnily enough mum and she are still best friends.

I went to her house for lessons whenever mum would let me out of her sight. “She has a much better piano than us,” I lied to mum.

The truth was she taught me blues piano when mum wasn’t there to interfere. We still don’t do the barrel house thing in front of mum.

Mum at all times had me on a diet because even though I was quite a tall girl I outweighed most of the boys in my class at college by quite a bit. The other thing that drove me to tears, yes real tears was her insistence that there is someone for everyone. I knew that was bollocks, well, I wondered I did.

My poor old dad just didn’t have a clue, he at all times had the best hugs when I needed one. He never said, but I know he wanted a boy,

He and mum never talked about it and even though my dad is long gone now, she still won’t. I know something went wrong when I was born. I don’t think mum could have any more kids after that.

So for both of them, it was me or nothing. I often wonder if he’d have settled for a tomboy. Considering I had bigger tits than my mum by the time I was twelve that was never gonna happen.

Despite this they never gave up, in fact, mum still buys me clothes to this day. I have two wardrobes full of “Buckingham Palace Garden Party posh frocks” that will not be worn until she pops her clogs. I’ll pick out the best to bury her in, she’d like that. The rest will be in the nearest charity shop before she is cold. Poor mum.

I’m comfortable in jeans, love leather, now my “man” is a biker I’ve got loads of proper and pretend bike gear. However, I play games in Latex. I love it, it brings out the best, worst maybe, in me. I’m a different person in latex.

I left college as soon as I could get into the nursing college at Jimmy’s in Leeds. Yes, a certain well-known but now departed DJ had more than one feel-up of my bum and boobs. I ain’t off to court, I was quite flattered at the time.

Jimmy’s was my number one choice as there, we “inmates” had our own rooms, so small, there was no storage space for the clothes my mum would have loved to send me off with.

I did my training, became state registered and took every one of my nursing jobs there. I never moved out of that room, for a long time it was my whole world.

I earned a promotion to nursing sister to get my foot on the upward ladder. I’d been nursing for a few years and I was either ward sister or acting ward sister for just over four years.

About that time I met Mandy. Mandy was even more different than me. Mandy was a bit of a scandal, very open about her sexuality and that was very Lesbian.

In the common room, there was a piano. It should have been burned years ago. But if I was feeling blue I’d go and play some of the tunes Celia had wondered me. Mandy came in, obviously attracted by the music.

Wow, your fucking good. I didn’t know what to say. At that point, I had never uttered a sware word in my life. She stood by the piano watching me.

When I finished and went to stand up she pushed me down and said play some more big girl! Don’t call me fat I snapped.

She laughed at me, no silly, I meant these. She grabbed my boobs and gave them a none-too-gentle squeeze. Ohh I could play with those for hours. Look at me, I haven’t even got fried eggs, I think you were well in front of me in the queue.

I was flabbergasted. Well, you ain’t running down the hall screaming. Come back to my room and ill make you squeal.

I did, I don’t know why the inner me won out over the mummy-moulded outer me for once. This girl changed my life. Sex wasn’t dirty after all. It was fun, to use Mandy’s words. Fucking good fun.

We had an on-off affair that lasted a few months but she left, she went on a VSO contract for a year. If it hadn’t been for the way my life turned I’d probably have followed her into Voluntary Service Overseas.

While the affair lasted she bought me presents. Dildos, butt plugs all sorts. I had to waddle around the ward at night with my fanny and arse stuffed with toys locked in a leather chastity belt. It was fun and I did the same to her.

It was her, the bitch, that turned me into a compulsive masturbation addict. I loved her for it. She is back in the UK now, we still meet up, just for coffee and a catch-up once in a while.

She threw out all my knickers and bras. Made me buy silk and satin stuff. She tied me up and shaved my fanny. I’ve never had a hairy quim since. I had electrolysis hair removal eventually. My quim used to look like a Kew Gardens exhibit before that.

One night a guy about my dad’s age called Morris came onto my ward. I was night sister on duty, and as I did his ward admission checks he begged me not to let his family in to see him. “Don’t worry my love,” no one is allowed in at this time of night.

They had driven him to attempt suicide. He nearly succeeded, not too many people survive jumping in front of a train. Poor sod, Mo, as I called him from then on, was there for months. One lonely night when it was quiet, he told me his life story.

He was worth a small fortune, actually, it was quite a big one. He was a miner’s son, I was a coal miner’s daughter. Shame I didn’t have a voice like Loretta Lynn. He told me how he made his money, how he worked every hour god sent and a little bit of luck

How he fell into a loveless marriage. He was straight but he had a need to dress in women’s clothes. His wife found out and promptly divorced him. She tried to take everything but thanks to his sister who was as clever as Mo, she failed.

While Mo fell to bits his sister got a qualified legal team in place. Don’t shed too many tears, his ex-wife did well enough. She wasn’t happy though, the avaricious bitch wanted blood and more.

The night after the life story night I gave him a present. I don’t know what made me do it but I wanted to look after him and protect him and make him smile. He was very vulnerable at the time. Some may see it as me taking benefit.

I gave him a pair of Lacy cream and coffee-coloured silk knickers my mum had bought me. Due to Mandy’s influence, she liked to dress me up for sex and a spanking.

I was just coming round to fancy knickers. My kink was still very dormant, maybe not as dormant as I wondered, but I had just dumped the BHS plain white cotton panties.

I bought these especially for Mo in Schofields, a long gone, sadly missed department store on the Headrow in Leeds. They had a good selection of lingerie. I bought my first basque and then a proper corset from there.

They were a good enough fit, a bit too big but big girlies like Mo need more space than us other girls. His eyes lit up, I pulled the screens round and with a bit of trouble getting them over his leg casts, got all of him into them.

I pulled them oh so slowly up his leg. Getting them over his broken leg wasn’t so sexy. Looking back that was the first of very many cock, and a few pussy teases I have performed. Mostly on Mo but I’m spreading my wings now.

I was a nurse of 9 years standing by then. I had never seen a cock grow so much. Flaccid he was tiny. It was like Topsy though, it grew and grew.

I cupped his full erection in the silk panties, I gave him a bit of a rub then my inner cruel got the better of me and I left him with his hard-on pushing against the knickers, and then tenting the bed sheet when I pulled it over him.

The poor man looked like something out of “Carry on Nurse”, he had two broken arms, in fact looking at his admission sheet he had more broken bones than intact ones and a massive purple pussy eater that he could not do a thing about.

I went back an hour later, he was still fairly ridged but was losing some of his hardness. So I teased him back to a full boner. Looking back this is where I became addicted to hearing and denying the pleading of a desperate man. It’s an addiction I take very good care of.

At this point, I didn’t see it going any further than me helping him dress up. However he begged me, he pleaded with me, and then he tried to buy me. At that time of my life, I didn’t realise how much a man is driven by his cock.

He offered to buy me presents, watches, Jewellery, lots of stuff I wasn’t really interested in. Over the next two hours, he increased that offer to a car. At 5 AM precisely, I had an hour to make his night before the day team started arriving.

Aside from Mo’s admission that night, there was nothing much exciting happening. That was, aside from the three massive orgasms I had, after teasing the poor man to distraction, behind the safety of my desk.

I walked into his room, pulled the blinds, locked the door and took my dress off. Due to my habit of masturbating on nights and Mandy’s influence, I’d taken to wearing stockings and matching bra knickers and suspender sets.

In a fit of madness, when I got his knickers, I had bought myself a matching half cup bra, lacy knickers and a sussy belt. Mo’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

I stepped out of my knickers and stuffed them in his open mouth. Drop them and I get dressed and leave. Say one word and I get dressed and leave. If you don’t do exactly as I say, I get dressed and leave. Do you figure out? The poor man nodded his head in agreement.

I wondered I was doing this purely for him, it came as some surprise to discover My fanny was dripping wet.

I pulled the sheets back and just held his cock. As a joke, I just said five pounds a lick. Mo could do nothing but nod his head again. Poor man, he looked like a frightened little mouse.

I have at all times liked sucking cock. Ever since an early date at a nurse’s dance got me to do it for him. I barely got the poor guy’s cock in my mouth before he shot his load. I wasn’t into eating a man’s cum then so I pulled back.

He came all over my tits. I was looking at my new burgundy silk bra, cum all over it and more running off my tits adding to the stains. I was thinking well that’s ruined that. When poor Mo yelped in pain.

He was trying to move forward to get his face into my sticky tits. I have no idea where my inner Dom sprang from but that was the point she introduced herself to me. She jumped out, plucked my knickers from his mouth and ordered him, “Lick your filth up now mister!”

As I lent in to let him, I came again for the fourth time that night. I allowed him to lick my nipples as a reward. I started to take his knickers off. The poor guy didn’t look too happy.

He asked how much he owed me. I gave him my best salty look. I don’t do things like that for money, I do it because I want to. He started to cry.

Don’t worry, the knickers are yours and you can have them back tomorrow. Our day nurses will have them off you if leave them on you now.

He started babbling about how sorry he was that he’d offended me. How no one wanted him, just his money. I sat on the edge of his bed and hugged him into my boobs. Held him there for a couple of minutes while he composed himself.

Then I kissed him. Wasn’t tongues or anything but it wasn’t a kiss I would have given my dad. You’re gonna get me the sack Mo. Good, you can come and look after me. I’ll pay you more than you get here.

I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not. I wasn’t. Not then. But over the next month or so I got to know someone who wanted me, not a skinny mini-skirted little dolly, he wanted me.

The night before his discharge he gave me a company card after his very early morning tease and blowjob. Please please call me Kay, it’s my private number.

He had a mobile phone. Back then no one else I knew had a mobile. Call me Kay. just say it’s Kay and hang up. I’ll call you back. It costs a small fortune to call this.

I can not call you Kay. It will be far too confusing. I’m gonna call you Maurine I joked.

We had a lot of fun for not nearly long enough. After my special nursing care in the hospital, he asked me to move in with him. There was never an official job, contract or anything like that, I just moved out of nurse accommodation and didn’t go back to work one day.

I used to dress him up and we went out for tea and cake. Or go down to London on the train for lunch at the savoy grill. We would never eat dinner at home, I’m a really crap cook. We at all times ate out. And when we went out I went out with Maurine.

There was never a wage but I didn’t buy a thing myself. He bought me a car, a lotus Elan. I loved it and still do, I’ll never sell it. He gave me a credit card and never complained about how much the monthly bill was.

I did the grocery shopping on the card, paid the garage for fixing my car on the card and bought our very first pair of bondage cuffs with the card. And I dressed him in silk, satin and lace on the card.

I can honestly say I didn’t love him, I did love being with him, there is a difference. It wasn’t just for the money either. We taught each other a lot. He bought me my first latex outfit, a black corset, bra and panty set. I loved it and still have it in my special things draw.

Then four years later, his suicide attempt finally worked. His ongoing problems from his internal injuries killed him. Before it did, we went to the registry office and he made me his wife. After that, we went to his solicitor’s office and he made me his sole beneficiary.

It was hell finding an undertaker that would dress him how he wanted to be dressed. It was his wish. But everyone wondered they knew better. Some people really piss me off.

I found a woman undertaker who I used. Neither his kids nor his ex-wife came to his funeral. I was pleased about that because I know Mo would have wanted them to be miles away.

While we wondered we still had some quality time together he bought The Old Theatre and we made it our home. We didn’t get to use the playroom though. He was too I’ll, I’m still a little sad about that.

A few stand-out moments make me smile even now. When he told me he had never eaten a woman out. We soon put that to rights.

I took a bit of persuading about giving him his first cream pie. His second, third, fourth etc came in sharp order though. We managed to get him someone else’s cream pie. I picked a bloke up in Castletown. It was a very dodgy area at the time but I got out unscathed.

The next time we placed an ad in the old top shelf mag “Forum” They had to come to a phone box over the road from a two-bedroom flat he owned. If we liked the look of them they got to fuck a hot BBW.

If either of us wondered they looked dodgy we didn’t ring the phone. 66 front room windows were looking down on that phone box. None of them was ever invited back for a second time while Mo was alive.

When they did get in they only got to see me. They didn’t know any more than that, they didn’t know there was an old guy dressed in lady’s underwear strapped to the bed in the next room wearing an “O” ring gag and a spiky cock tube just waiting to clean me up.

I filled an address book from that one Forum ad, I was getting replies a year later. Mo said he wanted a black cream pie, sadly just a bit too late.

After he had gone I found a big, really big black guy. He had a cock like a horse and he went for at least half an hour before he pumped pints of his cum in me. It felt like he was pumping pints in me.

He was funny, at all times wanted to take me for a meal after but I never came once with him. It’s all about the scenario for me.

I’d be thinking you’d love this cleanup Mo. I’d have cum like a wonton whore if he had been there to enjoy it.

I wondered that was it for me aside from an occasional fuck. Then I met Bob and Sharron. Bob wanted to watch me spank her and then make her eat me. They introduced me to the munch, I introduced her to my chair. When the munch lost its home we rehoused it at the theatre.

I took over running it after I took it in. One day I got an email from a guy who asked my permission to come. I don’t know how but I knew it was him when he opened the door and walked into my life.

Now he has to ask my permission to cum. He gets to cum as often as he needs, nowhere near as often as he wants though. My mum was right, after all, I am a lady, ask my boy! She was right about something else as well, there is someone for everyone. I’ve found someone.

We are both bound, not by steel, straps, ropes and chain. Though they do help Even if you think you still are a big fat girl!