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6'2 Jane and the midget tailor

M/F, MM/F, cheat, midget

11,100 words

I shouldn't be writing this; if she ever finds out, I'll be in big trouble.

But I have to, I need the story to be recorded somewhere. It can't just die with the few of us who know. It's important.

I met Jane for the first time when she walked into my shop to get her basketball team shirt altered.

There were two things about Jane that struck everyone immediately; she was gorgeous, and huge.

She was only 17 then , but already over six feet tall, with really big breasts, legs a mile long, and a tight ass too.

She was very insecure at first, but putting customers at ease was part of my job.

"I had to order a double extra large so it would be long enough, but it's like a tent." She said.

"No problem." I told her, brandishing my tape measure.

I stood on a stool and wrapped it around her; hips, 36. waist, 24. bust... oh god... 38.

She was staring at my sport bra display.

"Those look like they work." She said.

My specialty is over and under sized people; I started out by making clothes for myself. It's hard to get adult clothing when you're barely over 4 feet tall.

"For women like you who want to be able to run and jump, they're the best on the market."

"Do they come in my size?"

I would if I could...

"Absolutely." I told her. "Large breasts are pretty heavy, so it takes a well designed and well made bra to support them during sport. I have to warn you, they aren't cheap."

She looked unhappy at that, but did buy one a couple of weeks later.

She came in regularly, and we'd always have a little gossip in between looking after her wardrobe.

She was living with an older man for two years already, she told me. No one had ever realized she was so young, because of her height.

"I need a haircut." She remarked as she looked at herself in the dressing room mirror one day.

"I used to cut hair." I told her, "I could do yours if you want."

I knew she was on a tight budget. It seemed unfair; her old man boyfriend was wealthy she'd told me, but he never gave her enough pocket money.

"Ok." She said.

I locked the shop and got my special hair scissors from the back. She sat on a stool and I stood on one behind her.

Her hair was jet black and slightly wavy; it felt heavenly as I ran my fingers through it. Her shoulders were so wide and pale, the skin perfect in its luster. I was careful not to let my hardon contact her back. Jane had to know I desired her; every man desired Jane, but most, like me, knew they couldn't have her.

"What do you think?" I asked when I was through.

"It's fabulous!" she said.

She was happy then; and I realized that she wasn't so very often. It seemed wrong that such a magnificent creature should be sad so much of the time.

But when she smiled happily, the room seemed to fill with her brightness. And she smiled at me in thankfulness, no longer seeing me as a midget, but as a person.

And from that moment, I was in love with her.

Time passed; No, I didn't fuck her. Do you think a girl like that would let a deformed creep like me make love with her?

Well, she did actually. But not right away.

She confided in me; every Saturday, I'd close the shop early, and we'd sit together in the back, talking as I trimmed and styled her hair. Then we'd have coffee and some cake or biscuits. It was the high point of my week, and whenever I was feeling pressured or depressed, I'd just think of the time I'd be spending with Jane on the coming Saturday.

Her sugardaddy was married, and spent weekends at his house in the country with his wife and teenaged son. Jane had been living in his apartment in town since she was 16; he didn't know she was that young at first. She told me she'd been five foot ten then.

Jane seemed to be unsure of herself in the world outside my shop, but with me she was always self-confident. She trusted me, she knew I'd never betray her.

"You should let me do your nails." I suggested. She was 18 then. She agreed, and that task was added to our ritual.

It was a privilege to serve her, to be allowed to touch her, even just her hands. She had lovely hands.

And slowly, our relationship changed; Jane began to take advantage of her superiority, as she realized her power over me.

"I can't go out tonight with my toenails like that." She complained, and I filed and painted her toes to match her fingers.

It was sexual, but there was no sex, not yet.

"Do you think my legs should be shaved?" she asked me a few weeks after I'd started the pedicures.

"It would look better when you wear short skirts." I said, "You're at the age when ladies need to buy shavers."

"My boyfriend mentioned it." She said, "He doesn't like it."

She always called him her "boyfriend", even though he was old enough to be her father.

"You could do it for me. " She told me.

It was just a bit on her calves; but she hitched up her skirt, and I got to run my hands over her magnificent legs as I lathered and shaved them.

"He noticed!" she gushed the next week, "He was SO passionate, like he hasn't been for ages!"

My heart burned with jealousy; "That's great." I said.

"He says I should shave all the way up." She continued.

That threw me for a second.

"You mean your groin?" I asked.

"Yes; do you think that's weird?"

"I think it's fairly normal these days." I said, as if I had the slightest idea.

"How can I even do that? I'd have to use a mirror."

"I'd be happy to do it for you." I said. I didn't mean it seriously of course.

"Really?"

"Sure."

"Wouldn't that be..."

I shrugged "It's up to you." I said, as if getting my stubby fingers between her legs was no big deal.

She hesitated, and I realized that she was actually considering it.

"It will drive him wild." I prompted.

"You think so?"

"He'll want to... well, it will probably be nice for you too."

"Oh Sam, you're wicked!" she laughed.

I looked up at my goddess and laughed with her.

"So do you want me to or not?" I asked.

"Well... Ok then."

She wasn't naïve. She knew this was sexual for me [whether or not it was for her]. She knew her "boyfriend" would go ballistic if he ever found out.

But she enjoyed it, enjoyed my pleasure and my pain. She was willing to use me, and I was willing to be used.

She sat down on the easy chair I'd put in for her, where I sat at her feet to do her toenails and legs.

I did the usual tasks first, my hands tingling as I ran the fingers across her smooth pale flesh. She was wearing a knee length skirt, and I pushed it up higher.

I reached my short arms up and hooked my stubby fingers around the band of her panties, the hem of her skirt against my throat. She looked down at me; her glorious black hair framing that beautiful face, those electric blue eyes hesitant.

"Well do you want it done?" I asked her.

She sighed and lifted her behind as I pulled the thin white garment down her long legs, which she then spread.

Kneeling on the floor at her feet, I stared up into that heavenly valley; the pale smooth muscular thighs, and the secret little island where they were joined to her torso. The black furry bush that framed her pink young vagina.

"Open your legs wider." I told her, and she did. I took my hair cutting scissors in one hand, and stroked her bush carefully with the other, snipping away the hairs that protruded through my fingers. The fingers that contacted her vagina, so inadvertently.

Cautiously, I cut closer, taking away all that I could by scissor before sweeping away the debris with my little brush. I couldn't resist giving her snatch a few extra strokes with it. She didn't make any sign of encouragement or discouragement.

I lathered and shaved her. I thought she might be getting a little wet; or was that just the foam? It must have been because it couldn't have been her getting turned on by me.

Some women are; that might shock you, but it's true. A small percentage maybe, but there aren't many midgets around.

Oh, sorry; we're supposed to say "little people" now, as "Midget" is derogatory.

What rubbish, the word is derogatory because it means "little people". We started using "midget" because people used to use "Dwarf".

Banning the word won't solve the problem of height discrimination.

Anyway, lots of my comrades are... well, ugly. Lots have medical problems too, so guys like me do ok, for sex at least.

Companionship, relationships, and love are a different story. They do tend to flee afterwards. They don't want to go out with me or anything, they wouldn't want to be seen with me. They just want a little kinky sex, and guys like me know that we should just be thankful for what we get.

But back to Jane; could she be one of those sweet women with the perverted maternal instinct? Did she harbor a secret little desire for a little guy? She'd been my friend for years, and she'd never shown any sign of it.

I puzzled over it all week. I knew she was unhappy in her relationship; not that that has much to do with whether a woman harbors a kinky secret.

When people first meet me [or any odd looking person I suppose], all they can see is my dwarfism. But over time, they see me as another person, not a midget. Still, that's a long way from being aroused sexually.

The Next Saturday was when it happened. Well, sort of.

We chatted as usual while I touched up her hair, did her nails, toenails, rubbed her feet, and shaved her legs.

Jane was a bit upset that her lover had gone on vacation with his wife instead of her. She was excited about starting school again soon, to study nursing.

"Take off your undies, dear." I told her casually.

Without breaking off from her monologue, she lifted her rear, pulled them off, and spread her long legs wide, her long skirt hitched up around her waist.

I ran my fingers across the stubble, brushing her vaginal lips as if by accident.

"I don't know if once a week is often enough." I said.

She giggled nervously.

I brushed the foam carefully, making sure not to get her vagina wet. Then, as I worked, I put my thumb on it.

It was damp... it was wet! Jane, big tall Jane, was turned on!

My heart was pounding so hard, I wondered if she could see it through my shirt. I was amused at my own excitement.

Did I dare? What if she got angry? She might not let me serve her anymore. As my right hand slowly shaved her groin area, the thumb of my left rotated ever so slightly, gently stimulating her clitoris.

"What are you doing there?" she demanded suddenly, as if she'd only just noticed that there was something in her twat.

"Nothing!" I squeaked, pulling my hands away.

"It was nice." She said, "Keep doing it."

I was surprised to see my hand was shaking as I put it back between her legs; this was sex, of a kind anyway.

Was it me, or was it the midget? I was ready to go for it either way. Just to touch her, to stroke her statuesque magnificence.

I am a "disproportionate" dwarf; that is, some parts of me are "normal", some aren't. My arms are very short for instance. So my face was close, so close... I could see and smell her, her precious secretions glistening at the surface of her vagina, tempting me closer. Drawing my mouth to her like a vortex that no man could resist.

Closer I brought my face, closer... her skirt fell over me so I was hidden below it. Her legs stayed open, she must be able to feel my breath against her I was thinking, but I didn't dare close the last small gap. I loved her too much, and I knew how easily I could lose her.

I felt her hand on the back of my head, and she pulled my face against herself.

I'd licked women before; but it was somehow tainted, wrong. They were perverts, they didn't know me and they didn't want to know me. They just wanted to do it with a midget.

Why? Like pedophilia I suppose, their mating instincts were mixed with their maternal ones. They wanted sex with someone as small as a child; or, somewhere deep down, with an actual child.

But Jane knew me. She was my friend... and good god it was exciting to have my tongue in her box.

I licked and sucked her, I held her tight, I felt her hands holding my head through her skirt, until at last... she came.

Jane; six foot two Jane, the most magnificent woman I'd ever seen, came as I, a four foot midget tailor, licked her clit.

She pushed me away, and I stumbled back, drunk with endorphins. I fell onto my rear, looking up at her.

She looked shocked for a moment, shocked at what had just happened. She stood.

"I'd better go." She mumbled, and she left quickly.

All week the incident was rolling through my mind; would she come back on Saturday?

She did.

Sheepishly, she took her chair and lay back.

Hardly saying a word, I did my tasks. I snipped off any split ends in her hair, brushed it and combed it. Her fingernails were polished and retouched, then her toenails. I massaged her feet a little, then went on to shave her long legs, my fingers stroking gently as I searched for any rough spots.

When I was through, she pulled away her underwear, and sat there waiting, skirt up around her waist, legs wide.

Silently I repeated the actions from the week before. But there was one difference this time; she kept her skirt out of the way and watched me.

Carefully, slowly, I scraped away the stubble, my free hand holding the top of her thigh, or stretching her open a little as necessary.

I looked up at her face; she looked back blankly, waiting. I brought my face slowly into her groin, waiting for her to push me away, to reject my outrageous advance. But she didn't.

The statuesque teenager just sat still, waiting for me to service her. Knowing her superiority, her power over all men, tall and short, rich and poor, old and young.

My tongue touched her; she jumped slightly and closed her eyes, but didn't move away or object. Slowly at first, I licked her, pushing my tongue against her sweet young clit, pushing the tip into her lovely vagina.

I looked up at her face, and she opened her eyes and looked at me. At me, Sam the midget, the tailor to the deformed. I was her friend, her confidant, and now, to some extent, her lover! What if her "boyfriend" would know? That tall, rich bastard. He kept her for a pittance, she slept with him, lived with him, and he treated her like shit. I treated her like the star she was; and if she let me lick her vagina once a week, I was more than happy.

I looked into her eyes as I did it to her, into her angelic, innocent face. She took my head in her hands; she was surprisingly strong. I remembered she told me that in addition to being on the basketball team, she'd wrestled competitively in high school. Jane was not only a world class beauty, she was an athlete as well.

Her eyes widened, then closed. She moaned and quivered. I licked harder, frantically, holding on to her thighs as best I could as she bucked upwards, her great body heaving in orgasm!

To me, it was as satisfying as any sex I'd ever known.

Like I said, I was no virgin. I'd had sex with women, both vertically challenged and "normal". But this was different; we were friends. And I loved her, loved her with a passion that could destroy me.

That was new to me. I'd been in love before, but not like this; I'd never had a relationship this long before. I'd never spent this much time with anyone else.

I knew that I might even have a full sexual relationship with her, but she would never be mine; she would never be my wife, my partner, my equal. She was too much woman for me to ever keep.

After she came, I pulled away, and pulled her dress back down over her legs. I brought fresh coffee and some cheese cake for us. We talked about things, but not about sex. That, we didn't mention. It was a secret so secret, it would not even be referred to out loud.

For the next few months, nothing much changed. I bought a vibrator, and that really seemed to help. Sometimes I could make her come twice. A couple of times, she pushed my head away as I was about to start licking her; "Not today." Was all she said. But most Saturdays, I made Jane come in my mouth.

I had a one night stand with a young professional woman I met at a bar. But mostly I was content to masturbate, looking at a picture of Jane. Just her face was enough.

I made clothes for her; beautiful dresses, a jacket, trousers that fit her perfectly. It was my joy to see her wear my creations. To know she wore them during the week, when she was with others, her friends and her "boyfriend".

I made her a party dress in green satin. In my little shop, she stood at a big mirror, looking at herself in it.

"Sam, it's completely gorgeous!" she said with such happiness, that all the work was paid for in that one second.

"You're gorgeous sweetie." I said, straight from my heart.

I got a deep sense of satisfaction from clothing her. Most of my business was alterations and repairs, which was mind numbingly boring. To make real clothes, a dress like that for a woman like Jane, filled a need in me.

 "Take your clothes off." She said quietly.

She remained dressed but for the lack of panties under her long skirt, as I disrobed, slowly stripping myself as she watched silently.

"Stand on the coffee table." She told me, "Stroke yourself."

I looked into her face and did as I was told. She reached out her hand, and cupped my balls. I let my cock go and it fell on her wrist. She shifted her grip and took it in her hand.

"You're cock isn't small." She said.

"Seven inches when erect." I told her.

"Hmmm." She said.

She leaned forward, and I thought she was going to take me in her mouth; but she dribbled a generous amount of saliva onto it, and stroked it harder. She stood up; even while I was standing on the table she stood taller than me. She brought her face close to mine, looking deep into my eyes as she worked my cock.

"Come." She commanded, and kissed me lightly, so very lightly, on the mouth.

Her hand on my cock I could handle, but a kiss from those perfect lips was too much. My abdomen went in and my sperm came out, shooting across the room, splashing against the floor and walls.

She let go of me and smiled.

"That was fun." She said.

It was; but I had to find each drop to clean it up, or my shop would end up smelling like a porno theater.

The next week I sat on her lap with my shoulders against her great breasts as she stroked my chest with the fingers of one hand and jerked me off with the other.

I felt as if I were in a state of nirvana; I could have sat there forever, my head between her big breasts as she caressed my little body with her long elegant fingers.

"Come." She commanded.

I tilted my head back; she bent her neck and kissed my mouth, her tongue pushing slightly between my lips. I shot my load, shooting it into the middle of the room.

The week after that she gave me a blow job.

On my knees on the coffee table, I leaned back onto my elbows, my knees spread and my stiff rod sticking up.

Jane leaned down and took me in her mouth; I felt as if I were drowning in her mouth, as if all of me was in there, and I never wanted it to end.

She lifted her head and looked at me; she pursed her lips, then laughed.

"Come in my mouth." She commanded. Before dropping her face over me again.

I came, perhaps harder than I had ever known; I came like a fountain, a fire hydrant! I pumped and pumped, until there was no more, and still the spasms went on.

Jane sucked and pulled at it, she tickled my balls, she milked me like a cow, and swallowed it all too.

"Mmm, nice." She said when she was through.

I always wanted to do a '69', but never found a girl who was short enough.

"Why don't we go upstairs to my apartment?" I asked her the next week.

"Ok." She agreed.

I showed her around my small place.

"Nice view." She commented generously.

"Sit on the bed," I suggested.

She sat and looked at me; so tremendous, so stunningly beautiful, so young. I wanted to fuck her more than I'd wanted anything in my long short life.

I bent down and lifted one foot in my hand. Slowly, I removed the shoe. I massaged the foot for a minute, then went to the other.

I stroked her precious calves, behind her knees. She lay back onto my bed. It was a normal bed, but too short for her.

I bent over her and unbuttoned her light blouse, unhooked her bra. I took her big breasts into my hands.

Silently, she unbuckled my belt and opened my pants. I pulled away to get my clothes off, and she stood up to do the same. I looked up at her, towering above me in my little bedroom, her figure utterly amazing, her skin flawless, her eyes deep blue, framed in a nest of thick jet-black hair.

She lay back onto my bed, and I climbed on top of her, our nakedness in full contact now. My cock was against her flat belly as I took her face in my hands and kissed her mouth. She stroked my ass lightly; was this real? Was my goddess really going to do it with me?

"You're a handsome little devil." She whispered, "Lick me."

I moved down and got my face between her thighs and went to it.

"You do that so well." She said, "Better than anyone I've known."

I wondered how many that was. Not that it mattered much to me.

I lifted myself up and put my dick against her. She lay still, not moving. It was my time at last, yet somehow I hesitated; somehow, I couldn't just stick my midget cock into Jane's towering body so casually.

"May I?" I asked her.

She looked down at me and smiled; "Yes, you may." She allowed.

I pushed, and I was in her.

Her cunt was tight; it gripped my rod perfectly, wet and cool against my burning heat.

I lowered my face between her breasts, and she wrapped her fingers around my scalp as I began to give it to her.

Harder... harder! I had to make her come!

And then; yes, she did. The highpoint of my life was that moment, that sweet long moment when I made Jane come with straight intercourse for the first time.

Because it wouldn't be the last.

"It's ok." She gasped.

"What's ok?"

"You can come in me. " She said, digging her fingernails into my ass cheeks.

I let the flood loose, blasting the tall woman full of shorty sperm.

Spent, I lay on top of her. She stroked my damp back affectionately for a while.

Afterwards, we showered separately and I made dinner for us. Jane ate much more than me; well, there was more of her to feed.

She would come to me when she needed a willing ear, a haircut, or just a good licking. She used me, but she knew I was more than willing. Jane was no angel though; she was moody and short tempered.

Once, when we were arguing about something, she got so angry with me that she swung her palm at my face. I caught her wrist, which enraged her the more.

She stood and grabbed me by the hair, and before I could react at all she pulled hard, throwing me to the ground effortlessly yet with tremendous force.

She stood over me, glaring, beautiful and terrifying.

"Are you afraid?" she asked.

"Yes!" I admitted.

Her nostrils flared and her eyes glowed brighter.

"I could beat the shit out of you." She said.

"I know."

"Get up."

"Ok."

"Take your clothes off and lie down on the coffee table."

She didn't undress, but she pulled her panties off and lifted her skirt as she straddled the table above me. She sat down on my thighs, slipping my cock into herself. She was wet inside already.

She bucked her hips forward and back until she came.

"Go on." She said.

I stared up at her, the body of a goddess towering above my stunted body, great breasts heaving far above me, her weight on my thighs.

She bent down and I sat up. She kissed me, and I fired away into her.

Our affair went on for a long time, years.

Sometimes she wouldn't turn up; she didn't call or explain herself, I'd just be left waiting for her. Then she'd be there again, once after 2 months had passed. It was how she was; self-centered, a touch cruel.

Sometimes she was as bright and innocent as a little girl [a big little girl of course], and sometimes she was dark and brooding.

She oiled my cock and masturbated me gently, smiling at me benignly. When she wanted me to come, she simply kissed me; a long passionate kiss, our tongues tasting each other as I came, squirting my juice out into the room.

Afterwards, she washed her hands as I cleaned my semen from the floor.

Another memory;

She told me to strip naked and sit on her lap.

She cradled my head in the crook of her arm against her breast as she stroked my dick with her other hand.

I unbuttoned her blouse, and pulled down her bra, releasing her large pale breast. I took her nipple in my mouth and sucked like a baby.

It wasn't really what I wanted, but I knew it was what she wanted. Jane had a baby fetish. Whether it came through having sex with me, or developed by chance I'll never know.

After a while, she shifted me to her other breast, and I sucked that one too, sucked it unlit it was red and swollen.

After that, she lay me on my back, naked on my bed, and just stroked my body, looking into my eyes. It was beautiful; to just be adored by her, to feel her love.

A flawed love, incomplete. Unequal. I served her, worshipped her, and she liked it that way. She had other relationships, normal ones, as well. She came to me for this, utter dominance. She could do as she liked, take what she liked, treat me well or not as suited her mood. I would just submit.

Eventually, it got to the point where when she was in a foul mood she'd slap or hit me; sometimes she'd throw me like a doll across the room.

Then her anger would transform to lust, and she'd want rough sex.

I was often left bruised and with a bit of pain. but I was willing to put up with all of that and more in return for what she gave me; not just the sex, it was more than that. We had a relationship; a perverted one, but it was real.

There were long breaks; like when she finished nursing school and spent nearly a year living in her [by then] ex boyfriend's house to look after his son, who had leukemia.

Jane was deeply affected by that; she did stop by for a chat once or twice. Everyone was sure the boy was going to die, except Jane. And she was right too, but it left her emotionally and physically exhausted.

After that she moved in with me for a while.

It was only until she could get her own place, but for a few months we were a couple. About the oddest couple that could be, like a couple from the freak show.

I knew she didn't want anyone to know. I understood.

She got a job in a hospital but she hated it; she got too depressed when people didn't improve quickly, or even died, which they often did. Jane was unable to separate her emotions from her patients.

I almost cried when she moved out.

"Will you come see me on Saturdays, like you used to?" I asked her.

"We'll see." She said.

She came for a few weeks, then she told me she'd met someone. Our affair ended.

For a while.

I got married, to a perfectly nice Jewish girl. I don't really know why; well, we were in love. Her parents hated me so much, we couldn't ever visit them.

After about a year, Jane suddenly appeared in my shop again.

She went through to the back, and sat down in her chair like always.

"How have you been?" I asked her. "It's good to see you."

She smiled at me. "I've been ok. What about you?"

I held up my finger "I got married."

"Really? Is she nice?"

"Very nice."

"You can still cut my hair for me though."

I hesitated; that hair always drove me mad. She looked at me, her deep blue eyes burning holes through my brain.

A couple of hours later, there was a scream; I pulled my face out of Jane's crotch and twisted to look. It was my wife.

A few weeks later, we were divorced.

I always regretted the pain I caused her. She was a sensitive thing, and the only thing she ever wanted from me was loyalty.

Of course, I regret the roasting I got in the settlement too.

Jane came to see me and we had sex again; I asked her to move in with me, but she declined.

"I do love you, Sam; but you know it could never work."

"Why not?"

"Because it never does." She said sadly.

She was 28 years old then, as beautiful as ever, yet so tragic. And me? I loved her as ever. I sometimes wondered why.

I'd had other relationships, and so did she. She wasn't even really very nice to me a lot of the time. Yes, she was gorgeous; and tall. Maybe it's the attraction of opposites. She was too big, I was too short. In some ways, we were the same; freaks, weirdoes. Both of us so affected by the odd size of our bodies, unable to escape constant stereotyping.

She started coming by again on Saturday afternoons, telling me about her abusive new boyfriend. Of course I urged her to leave him.

"You know you're always welcome here." I told her. As I dried her hair.

"It wouldn't be right." She said.

"Why not?"

"Because it will hurt you when I leave again."

I ran my fingers across her smooth white shoulders, stroking her lovingly.

"But it would be such fun while you're here." I argued.

"You're just a pervert." She said as I went around to her feet to start filing her calluses.

"It takes one to know one darling." I said.

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

"Hey, don't be so defensive." I said, "Have you been keeping something from me?"

She didn't answer; she did suck my cock though.

A year later she came in and told me excitedly that she was getting married.

"That's great!" I said, with mixed emotions.

"He's tall, as tall as I am, and he's a doctor."

"Like you always wanted." I said.

"That's right." She said, walking through to the back as I locked the front door.

"So what's his name?"

"Kirk." She said, taking her chair and leaning back casually, as if she hadn't been absent for the last year.

The name rung a bell, and then I remembered.

"Wasn't that the name of the boy with Lukeimia, your boyfriend's son you looked after?" I said as I took out the grooming bag. Everything was there, ready, waiting. Just in case she would come through that door again, I was always prepared.

"That's right."

"Strange you're fiancé has the same name, it isn't common." I said, sitting on my stool at her feet as I look off her shoes.

"Kirk is my fiancé; the same Kirk."

I guess my jaw just about hit the floor.

"He came to see me, and... well, he's a doctor now, and he asked me to marry him."

"But... isn't he a lot younger than you? And a patient, and your lover's son?" Her feet badly needed looking after. The calluses were thick, and the nails were ragged.

"He loves me." She said as I got to work.

"So do I, but you won't marry me." I said. "Do you love him?"

"Yes. But..."

"What?"

"I'm not sure."

"Is he good in bed?"

"I don't know."

"You haven't even had sex with him?"

"I would have told you about it if I had." She said defensively. "Anyway, we did have sex, before."

"You mean when he was sick? You had sex with a sick boy? Jesus Jane!"

"Well I thought he was going to die. It didn't seem right he should go without..."

"Coming?"

"Exactly. Anyway, he's been in remission for 10 years, he's rich, good looking, and wants to marry me. How can I refuse? I'd be crazy."

I ran my hand up inside her skirt, tracing along her long smooth thigh. She didn't stop me, so I didn't stop.

"So you aren't sure then." I said, brushing my lips along the inside of her thigh.

"How can I be?" she asked, as I kissed my way higher. "You know me Sam. What kind of a wife could I ever be? I'd end up just damaging him, and he's a good guy."

"Lift your rear, sweetie, that's it." I said as I pulled off her underwear. "Just relax while I look after things down here. I think you'd make a great wife. Why don't you marry me?"

She slapped my head playfully. "This is serious!" she admonished me.

I began the long careful task I relished so much, shaving her beautiful crotch. Making it ready for licking, and even more if she let me.

"Does he love you as much as I do?" I asked her quietly.

"Yes. I think so." She said. "He's obsessed, he has been the whole time he told me."

"If he loves you like I do, then you should marry him." I said, hoping she might come to a completely different conclusion.

"You really think so?"

"Yes."

She sat in quiet reflection as I carefully shaved her legs and groin, plucking out the odd hair that was trying to emerge in the crack of her ass. As she got older, there were more of them.

"Hmmm." She said, sitting up, "Let's go upstairs."

She always used stairs two at a time, her huge but utterly feminine frame assenting effortlessly before me, like an angel rising on wings instead of mortal feet.

"You've redecorated." She said, looking around.

"Yeah, it was getting a bit dingy in here.

"It's nice. Unzip me."

I climbed up on a stool behind her and pulled down the zipper of her dress, then peeled it away from her broad shoulders.

"Unhook my bra too." She said.

She shrugged out of her clothes, which fell to the floor. She got into my bed, our bed, face down.

"I need a massage." She said, "My basketball team got to the league finals the other night."

"How did you do?"

"We came in third. I played really hard."

"I can tell, your muscles are all stringy." I said as I worked her shoulders.

"That feels good." She hummed. "You always make me feel better."

I glowed at her compliment as I worked at her long broad back; the skin still unblemished and silky smooth over her strong muscles.

You wouldn't notice her strength if you saw her. Jane always looked so feminine, her curves covering up her athleticism.

I climbed on top of her and sat on her butt to do her lower back, then shifted down to her thighs as I massaged the round globes of her ass.

It wasn't as tight as when I'd first known her; she had matured, physically at least.

After about a half hour, she rolled over, her black hair spilling over my white pillow like ink on a spoiled page.

I rubbed her feet, then worked my way up.

I rubbed her clitoris with my thumb, then got the vibrator out.

"I'm engaged to be married, Sam." She said, her open legs belying her words, "I can't have sex with you."

"I thought you hadn't made up your mind." I protested.

"I guess I have now." She said, still lying nude on my bed with her long athletic legs spread wide. "An afternoon with you always clears my head. You can lick me if you want."

"Ok." I said, and got to work with the vibrator and my tongue.

Ah, it had been so long; how I'd missed this, the serenity I felt as I served her. Her great strong legs open for my tongue, the taste of her, the sweet smell of her vagina.

"You can make my wedding dress." She mused, having no idea what she was asking of me. Wedding dresses, formal ones, are works of art. I'd never done work on that level.

"I want it to be fabulous." She went on, holding my face tight against her open vagina so I couldn't answer back. "White lace, veil, layered skirts, everything."

The idea seemed to excite her sexually. I worked harder, penetrating her with the vibrator as I lashed her clit. She writhed around a little, and I knew she was going to come.

"And you should be there, at my wedding." She went on, "My little secret! Haha, who would ever guess? Who would even believe it? Oh darling, I'm going to miss you, that's for sure!"

And she was coming. Ah, but I loved to make Jane come; when that magnificent woman came, I was not deformed; I was huge, powerful, a man who could be proud.

And then it was over. We were ourselves again, I was a horny midget and Jane was a six foot two pervert.

I sat up, breathing hard from the effort, and went to wash my face.

"You can jerk off if you want." She said, lifting one knee and rolling towards me, so her hair and big breasts hung to one side, her pink lower lips still gleaming. "Go on." She prompted.

She stared at me, smiling slightly as I opened my pants and pulled my dick out. I stroked myself and looked at her; stretched along my bed, the special extra long one I'd bought when she'd briefly lived with me. Even though getting sheets was always a pain, I'd kept it, hoping for the day she'd bless it again by lying herself down on it.

She swung her long legs across and put her feet on the floor. She stood, filling the whole room with her goddess's body, towering over me, her breasts standing out like battlements. She took my chin in her hand and leaned down, her breasts hanging between us as she kissed me.

And pop, I blew my load, like always.

I worked hard on her wedding dress, and she came over regularly; for fittings as well as my usual service. She didn't let me go all the way with her, but I was allowed to give her oral, and then masturbate. Once, she jerked me off. It was great, but when she did that she always let it soot out into the room, and I had to hunt for all the drops afterwards.

Since I'd never made anything so elaborate before, I really did need her to model it quite a few times as it progressed. Jane loved how it looked, the gleaming white sexiness. There were 3 skirts; but I made the outer one first, which was all lace. It was half transparent.

She turned before the back room mirror, her lower body tantalizingly visible.

"What if I wore it like this?" she joked.

"That would make an impression." I said.

"Does it turn you on?" she asked.

"You know it does. Does it turn you on too?"

"Oh yes."

She was wearing high heels, making her about 6 foot 6. She looked down at me. I looked up at her.

"Pull it out and show me." She said.

Obligingly, I fished out my hard cock.

"You horny little bastard!" she laughed, and sat down in her big chair, hitching up the skirt and opening her muscular legs.

"Give it to me." She ordered.

I climbed up and put my dick into her for the first time in ages, lying on top of the folds of the skirt, my face between her lace covered breasts.

She held me tight as I pumped her; and it felt good on one level, but just wrong on another.

She was promised to another; she was getting married in a week. She didn't love me, not like she loved him; I wasn't good enough for her, not tall enough or rich enough to keep her.

But, for that moment. I was good enough to have sex with her. So I did.

She started to come, and I couldn't handle it. I came too, squirting into her magnificence with mixed emotions.

"We have to stop doing these things." She said, running her fingers through my hair contentedly as my cock slipped out of her.

I saw him for the first time at the wedding. Jane introduced us.

"Kirk, this is my best friend, Sam." She said to him.

Best friend; I was really pleased at that. I reached up and he reached down.

"Good to meet you." He said as the photographer clicked away. I guess it must have looked funny.

He was damn good looking, with his deep dark brooding eyes, but a touch nervous.

"What's with that photographer?" I asked Jane irritably.

"What do you mean?" she demanded defensively.

"Oh never mind! Come on, we have to get you dressed."

We went into the side room and I helped her into the many layers of the dress. I wasn't getting paid for it, but it would be a good advertisement for me. Besides, I got to do her in it, so I couldn't complain.

I didn't see Jane again until after she got back from the Hawaii honeymoon. She still came by sometimes, but only when her husband was on late shift. We didn't have sex, but sometimes she let me go down on her.

I wanted her of course, but at the same time I was happy that her marriage was working out. I loved her like that; not completely selflessly, but enough to want her to be happy.

She prattled on as I served her, oblivious to my feelings as she told me how they had great sex, how much she wanted a family, how she loved being a housewife.

His parents had objected to their marriage, and cut Kirk off from his trust fund. Jane didn't care too much; they had no debt, and he was earning a good starting salary.

"They aren't nice people." She said, "I don't want anything from them."

"But what about Kirk? Isn't it hard on him to be estranged from his parents?"

"When he was fifteen and had cancer, they thought he would die. His mother gave up hope then, and cut him off emotionally. What kind of woman would do that? I'm happy I don't have to pretend to like her, she's a complete bitch."

I was surprised at her vehemence; but of course she had a lot to be defensive about. She'd been the mistress of that woman's husband.

"But what about his dad?" I asked.

"While his son lay upstairs dying, all he wanted to do was get between my legs downstairs. What kind of man does that make him? I tell you Sam, I'm happy I don't have to talk to them. Massage my back, dear."

"Ok."

"I've applied to adopt a baby." She said as I rubbed her.

"Really?"

"Kirk is sterile. From the chemo he had when he was a boy. I have to admit, I feel a lot of guilt about that."

"Why? You didn't prescribe it."

"I should have made sure he had a sperm sample stored."

"You were his nurse, not his doctor!"

"I was taking care of him. Anyway, it doesn't make much difference since I can't have babies either."

"You never told me that."

"When I got the job at the hospital a few years ago, I had to have a full medical for the insurance plan. They found some problem in the plumbing."

I was shocked; Jane, infertile? I always thought of her as perfect, the epitome of fertility. Those big breasts of hers could feed a room full of babies if they ever got going.

She obviously had it on her mind. She was constantly talking about babies after that, the adoption process and how long it all took.

She was a bit obsessed. Similar to the way I was with her, I thought. Except of course, she would likely have her child, and I would never have Jane.

She finally got her baby; a cute little fellow, too. She used to drop him off with me while she went shopping; I became quite fond of young Joey actually.

And then, she was pregnant.

"I thought you said that couldn't happen." I said, rubbing my hands over her swelling womb while counting back the months. We'd had sex twice since her marriage. And I was pretty sure one of those times would have been in the window.

"That's what they told me." She said defensively. "To think of all this time I've been letting you have your fun with me, and I could have gotten pregnant any time."

"But Jane, you said Kirk is sterile. So whose baby is this?" I asked hopefully.

She looked at me a touch sadly. "It wasn't you Sam." She said, lying back in her chair.

"There was someone else?" I asked, deflated.

"Yes. And he was... black. So it's going to show."

"Oh damn! What will Kirk say?"

"He knows. He was... there at the time."

I looked at her incredulously "You had a Ménage à trois?"

"No, not exactly. I had a little affair with the man from social services. Kirk liked to watch."

"Jesus Christ! And I thought you had the perfect marriage."

"If I did, would I have been coming in here to spend my time with you?" she asked, tears welling in her gorgeous blue eyes.

"Hey, it's all right." I said, getting up onto a stool and putting my arms around her head. 

"I love him, but somehow that isn't enough." She said, "I know I should be happy with one man who loves me. And I am most of the time... but then I get these moods, these urges."

"What kind of urges?"

"For sex I guess." She said, "I did some terrible things, Sam. Terrible."

I didn't ask her for details, I just held her as she cried. When she was through, I cleaned her face, and she went home to her husband.

About that time things were getting impossible for me at the shop; my ex-wife got half ownership in the divorce, and she wanted to cash out. I was finding it impossible to find the money to buy her half. I was being forced to sell the place where I'd lived and worked for 20 years.

"Since I bought the place 20 years ago, property prices have gone up like crazy, but my income hasn't" I told Jane as I rubbed oil over her swollen belly.

"Well, then you'll make a good profit when you sell." She said.

"Not really. I only get half of it, and then I have no place to live and no shop. Guys like me don't get work easily."

"Hmmm. Rub some oil onto my breasts, they're so swollen."

"How does this feel?" I asked, gently massaging one of her big tits. They were big before she got pregnant, but now they were getting ridicules.

"Better." She cooed softly. "I think I have milk already, that's why they hurt."

"How does that make them hurt?"

"It needs to be sucked out." She said casually as she took my head in her hands and pulled my face to her nipple.

I lay my head in the crook of her arm and held it in my small hands as I complied with her desire. She pulled open my pants and pulled out my cock, and played with it as I felt my mouth fill with hot milk.

I have to say, it was pretty weird, even by our standards. But she needed it, and I was feeling pretty ok all in all.

She put some of the baby oil on her hand and went back to masturbating me as I relieved the pressure on her tit.

Then I turned around the other way to suck the other.

I never liked the baby thing, but a lot of women liked to play it with me. It was part of the midget perversion. Hey, when you're 4 feet tall, you take whatever you can get. Anyway, I was kind of getting into it this time. It tasted good once I got used to it, and Jane's hand working my cock was all right too.

"We're having some stress too." Jane said as we continued our weirdness. "After I have the baby, Kirk wants to go into private practice. The idea was I would be the assistant, but with 2 kids to look after, it looks like we'd have to hire someone. And then the whole thing might not be viable."

I lay against her swollen belly, suckling and having my cock stroked. And it seemed to me that the stress of owning my own business wasn't all that attractive anyway.

"I could take care of the kids for you." I suggested.

The hand on my penis stopped for a moment, then resumed its gentle stroking.

"You mean; live with us?" she asked.

"I guess it's a stupid idea, forget it." I said.

"No, it's a great idea." Jane said, unconsciously pulling my cock harder. She lifted my head and kissed my mouth; light as a feather.

I came.

The baby came, a girl. A very white baby girl.

And my shop went.

It was odd; I had a huge bank balance, but I felt completely poor. I had no home, no income. And, I suddenly realized, no friends.

I tended to keep a distance from people; I'd had acquaintances, customers. As soon as I moved from the neighborhood, I'd never see any of them again.

So I moved in with the Peters family, and became their servant.

I hated her husband at first; but I made myself get over my jealousy. He was a tall, good looking, young doctor. Everything a jobless 45 year old midget would hate, even if he hadn't married the woman I love.

I forced myself to see him as he was, to judge him on his merits.

And he was alright, actually.

Jane had told him we were friends for years, but I wondered if he knew about his wife and me.

The first month was fantastic; Jane was home, nursing her new baby. She was so beautiful, so splendid, radiant, my goddess.

Her great black hair spilling across the white bedding, the baby so small in her arms, the contentment on her face, her swollen breasts at least performing their biological function. She was perfect, and I was content to just be in her presence, to help, to serve.

I took care of Joey, who was now one year old, did the shopping [always a pain for my kind], cleaned house, and cooked.

And in the late morning, after feeding Baby Emily, I was allowed into bed with my darling, to empty her breasts. Jane made more than Emily could consume for the first few weeks.

Here in her own house, she didn't let my ejaculation shoot out into the middle of the room. She'd usually masturbate me while I suckled her, then kiss me so I came, then hold the end on my cock between her thumb and forefinger, keeping it in while she shifted around and went down on me.

Then she'd suck my cock, and my come, into her mouth, sucking me, drinking me, consuming me until I was through.

"A feeding mother can't have too much protein!" she laughed.

Her vagina needed time to heal after the birth. I inspected it for her; after all, who knew it better than me? The obstetrician had cut her a little, and stitched her afterwards. Kirk took the stitches out after a week or so, but when he wasn't around, I was allowed to look after her wound.

She was too sensitive there to do much, but she let me rub some cream on the fresh scar, and give her clit a very gentle lick; just to make her feel better.

Childbirth does terrible things to a woman's sensitive parts.

But then Kirk moved to his new private practice, and Jane started going to work with him every day. Then whenever she was home, so was her husband, and we rarely found any "alone" time.

It wasn't the sex I missed as much as the intimacy; to be able to talk with her about personal things.

They would argue sometimes, their shouting reverberating through the house. But most of the time they seemed happy with each other.

And as I got used to my new situation, I found myself to be oddly at peace.

Although I was acting as their servant, doing the menial tasks of the house, I had no worries at all. I had cash in the bank I didn't have to touch, no bills to pay, no customers to please. And there were the kids.

Emily; was she really my daughter? As I looked into her adoring eyes, the love seemed to flood between the infant and myself. I could have had DNA done, but I didn't dare. What if she wasn't mine? What if she was? Either conclusion seemed more frightening than the easy ambiguity of the moment. I fed the babies, cleaned up after them, played with them. And I was happy.

I couldn't ever remember being that happy, except maybe for the first few months of my marriage.

And I was living with Jane; I could see her every day, serve her, look after her.

She could never be mine in the sense of being my wife; this was as close as I would ever get. And it was good. Good enough anyway.

In some ways, I was better off than Kirk.

Jane was an extremely demanding woman.

She would badger him about his appearance, his weight [he looked ok to me], his table manners, or things he'd said when guests were around. He took it all gracefully most of the time.

She wasn't always easy on me either, but I was used to it.

About a month after Jane had started working with Kirk, he and I had a talk. Jane was already upstairs in bed, the house was quiet.

"Sam, I need to talk to you about Jane." He said, sitting down next to me. "She told me... that you were lovers."

I looked up at him; he was twice the man I was in just about every way. I didn't have an answer for him.

"Look, we need you here. Times are tough for everyone, and without you taking care of things at home, I wouldn't be able to keep Jane with me at the office."

I breathed a little easier; maybe he wasn't going to just kill me. Did you ever consider how easy it is to dispose of a body of my size? I often did. Part of the midget anxiety. A small man in a tall man's world.

"Look Sam, I know her. I know she has urges. The fact is, Jane has an OCD, an obsessive compulsive disorder."

"What do you mean? She has an addiction?" I asked.

"With some people it's drugs, or gambling. My wife has a sexual compulsion."

In other words, I thought to myself, we were both in love with a slut.

"She's honest about it, at least so far." He continued, "But I can't watch her all the time. She could get in all kinds of trouble, Sam; she's been lucky. If she ever gets caught... I can't even think about it."

"Caught? By who?"

"She knows she has to stop." He went on, ignoring my question, "We have to help her. Look Sam, I don't mind if you two... I don't mind. Just keep an eye on her, make sure she stays out of trouble."

"You'd better spell it out, Kirk." I said, "What has she been up to?"

"She... look, if she wants you to know, she'll tell you herself. Just do whatever you have to so she'll be content."

I stared at the handsome young doctor; had he just told me that he wanted me to fuck his wife?

"Sure, Kirk." I told him, as if I took what he said to mean something like extra cream in her coffee.

A few days later, on a Saturday, we were all at home.

"Sam!" Jane called out from the living room.

"Yes Jane?" I asked, hurrying to the doorway to look in.

"I'd like you to do my nails if you have time."

"Yes, of course." I said, and hurried upstairs to get my kit.

"Sam has been doing this for me since I was a teenager." She told her husband as I got to work.

"He does my toenails and feet too, right Sam?"

"Yes." I agreed as I held her soft palm in my hand, holding one long elegant finger out while I filed the nail carefully.

 "He does it out of adoration." Jane continued, "Nearly worship. I think Sam would do almost anything for me, wouldn't you Sam?"

"Almost." I agreed, a bit nervously.

"Sam would give me a full pedicure and massage, lacquer and buff my nails, and even shave my legs, all the way up, just for a kiss, wouldn't you Sam?"

"I would." I said, carefully brushing a soft color onto her nails.

There was silence as I performed the long ritual; I finished her feet and then shaved her long delicious legs.

"I used him." Jane told her husband as I stroked her carefully with the razor, "I've been using Sam for years, making him serve me. Whenever he might be getting over me, I'd let him have me again. Sexually I mean. I ruined his marriage, and destroyed his business." She continued flatly. "And now we're keeping him as our housekeeper. After all this, Sam, how do you feel about me?"

"I... I can't really..."

"Do you love me?" she insisted.

"Yes." I admitted painfully.

"Totally? Like, you'd do anything for me, anything at all that I ask of you?"

"Yes." I groaned.

"Shave my groin." She ordered.

I sat between her legs, which were spread wide open, like a trap waiting to close on me. I put my hands on either side of her vagina, pulling the hair out so I could snip it short in preparation.

"You can lick me a little bit." She said. "I haven't let anyone except Sam touch me there since giving birth." She told her husband, "Sam is so gentle."

I licked her, avoiding the barely visible scar at first, but then I experimentally ran my tongue across it, and she didn't seem to mind.

I was very aware of Kirk sitting behind me; I didn't like doing this to him, it wasn't right. But I couldn't refuse Jane. I couldn't resist the chance to get my greedy little face between those magnificent thighs.

"Take your pants off, Sam." She said, "I want you to do it to me.

I pulled my face out of her groin and turned to look at Kirk. He was slumped in a chair a few feet away, staring silently at us.

"Don't worry about him." Jane said, "He's been waiting to see this for quite a while, haven't you honey? HAVEN'T YOU?"

There was a long silence as we waited for his answer.

"Well?" Jane demanded, are you going to answer?"

"Yes." He finally squeaked.

Well, I suspected he knew. But I was still pretty shocked at what was happening on this otherwise ordinary afternoon.

Jane turned and lay back on the sofa, one foot on the floor and the other on the top of the backrest, her knees wide apart.

My cock was hard, but only barely. I wasn't really into this exhibitionist thing; I didn't have a good association with being looked at by other people. If my deformed little body caused any comment, it wouldn't be a complimentary one.

"In the years he's been serving me, I haven't let Sam do it to me very many times." Jane told her husband as I clambered up onto the sofa between her legs. "It's strange, because when we did do it I always enjoyed it a lot." She continued, reaching down to take hold of my cock, and then holding it against herself.

"Push it in, darling." She said to me. "Ooh, that feels good! You know, Kirk, I even thought about marrying Sam once." She told her husband as I buried my cock in her body and my face in her breasts.

Her warm wet vagina held my cock a little looser than it had before; but the grip on my emotions was stronger than ever. I wallowed in the sensation of her, her creamy smooth flesh against my body, her great breasts against my cheeks. I would do anything for this moment, I'd die for this. Which was of course, a distinct possibility.

"I love him." She said, and I guess I was as shocked as Kirk was by that. "But of course I could never marry Sam; maybe if I was a better person, but I am who I am." Her hands on my ass urged me to pump harder. "I need more than he could ever give me; I need a decent status, the world would never respect us as a couple. We'd always be a freak show.

"But now everything's good; I have my tall dark and handsome husband, and my sweet little Sam as well!"

She held me tight against herself, my knees were against her ass and my arms around her waist, I was only afraid her husband might kill me before I was through, but I had to have her anyway.

I pumped her, my small frame working hard to push my stiff rod repeatedly into her glorious body

What did I care for pride? I am [as Jane put it] who I am. A midget; a dwarf, a deformed man. And I was having sex with the most beautiful woman I'd ever known, six feet and two inches of stunning female. She could never be mine, but if I could have her on occasion, that was good enough for me.

"AHH!" she sighed as she came, and I couldn't have held back if I'd wanted to. I let it rip, emptying my balls into her.

"Kirk's turn." She announced when I was truly empty, and she pushed me away.

I sat to the side and watched them; and they were good.

Kirk was tall, lean, handsome. His cock was fairly large too, eight or nine inches.

As she had with me, she took his cock in her hand and guided him in. his ass descended as he entered her, settling between her thighs.

I wondered what it must feel like to make love with a woman who's full of another man's fresh semen?

They matched each other; they fit. And yet their marriage was flawed. By me, by him, and even by Jane.

Yes, I loved her, but she was no angel. The way she taunted him, tortured him; he didn't deserve that.

And as she said herself, she used me too. But don't we all use each other in some way or another? And she had given me Emily, my daughter in spirit whether she was biologically mine or not.

Kirk looked odd without clothes, as if stripped of the bulk of his power. But he was working hard, his long strong body heaving over his wife, until he came. And as I looked at her, I could see she was too, as she looked into his troubled eyes.

Kirk pulled out, and sat down alongside his wife, defeated. I looked at him, feeling the same way.

"Sam?"

"Yes Jane?"

"Go get dinner ready."

"Yes Jane.

"Kirk."

"Yes Jane?

"Clean the tub, I want to take a bath later."

"Yes, ok." He said, agreeing without a second thought.

What could either of us do? She had us both by the balls; we were her slaves, her servants. She was, she is, our goddess.

Ace, 2011

Another Jane story;   She wanted a baby

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