Etiket: young things

Reality is Different Ch. 03

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Amateur

All characters are over 18

It’s quiet in the house. Strangely quiet, a shroud of silence fallen in the instant of my passage through the door, a feeling of foreboding deep inside my belly that I don’t know how I could explain. The kind of feeling that you sometimes get when you’re up alone at night and you hear a noise coming somewhere from downstairs, or when you think you do, and all the shadows suddenly loom larger, darker, staring at you from the corners of the room. When the voice of reason in your head tries patiently to counsel that there’s no such thing as monsters, that you outgrew such fears a long, long time ago, that it’s childish to freak out about imagined noises in the dark…but your heart still pulses worried in your throat, and you have to flip on all the lights you can before you peek your head out into the hall. Making sure the world is still the one you know, that nothing’s lurking there in wait for you, with scaly skin and glowing eyes.

“Dad?” I toss my backpack down upon the couch, glad at least to lose the burden. The ambiguous uncertainty I feel reflected in my voice, high and tight with trepidation. I don’t know why I’m even calling for him – he’s almost never home before me.

So it’s another faint surprise, one that lodges nervous in my breast, to hear him answer back. “Come upstairs, Sarah.” Serious. Solemn. His voice resonating through the house, sounding somehow as though he’s right beside me despite the distance and the walls between us. There’s no choice but to obey him, a nameless worry crawling slow along my spine, my breathing slightly shallow, rapid as I make my way up through our aging staircase. Steeper, darker in this moment than it’s ever seemed before. The creaking of the wooden boards beneath my feet is the only sound I hear, and its low and steady tempo only serves to magnify my dread.

At the landing, now. The lights are on inside my room, the door is opened wide. Dad’s there beside my desk, his arms crossed at his chest, a frown upon his lips, and my throat is pulled already tight with panic. I only hold there in the doorway, afraid to enter, to approach. He’s mad at me. The kind of anger that he never shows, that he never feels, now painted thick and glaring on his brow. I don’t know why. What did I do? What could I have done?

“Come here.” His voice is iron, cold and hard, growling in my ear. No patience for my fear, my apprehension – and if I’m frightened to approach him at this moment, the thought of my defying him is even worse. I have to do it. Tiny steps in his direction, as slowly as I dare, delaying what’s before me for as long as I can manage. My eyes downcast, penitent for whatever wrong I’ve done, risking only little glances at him through my lashes. He stands so big and tall right now, towering above me as I draw closer. As though I’m just a little girl again.

“What is this?” His words hiss threatening at me while I’m still six feet away, his hand extending in a sweeping gesture to the computer that I didn’t see before. My computer, my monitor, the browser open to a page I’ve seen before. I can’t make out the text itself, not quite, but the colors and the layout I can see are enough to tell me all too clearly what it must be. What he’s found, the reason for the fury I see boiling in his eyes.

“Dad,” it comes out desperate, pleading, a word stumbling for purchase. Panic flooding helpless through my mind, twisting queasy at my stomach. What can I say? What reason could I ever give, what explanation wouldn’t make things worse? “Daddy, I…it isn’t what you think. I just – there was a link, you know, someone posted it, they didn’t say what it would be, and I only clicked on it, that’s all.” It tastes like poison, lying to him, the deception clumsy on my tongue. “I didn’t even read it, mostly, not really. I wouldn’t, daddy, I didn’t…”

A moment passes as I trail into silence. His eyes still dark on me, staring, heavy and intense. Unreadable. Then he speaks again, repeats. “Come here, Sarah.” His body language telling me he wants me there before him…I’m trembling as I draw closer, pushing forward my protesting feet that tell me just to run away, to hide, to flee. But if I did, he’d only catch me, and my punishment would be far worse. I must do as he says, as he orders, drawing closer step by step. Three feet. Two. He’s a mountain there before me; I have to crane back my head to try to look him in the eye. A feeble, ghostly smile forced onto my lips, struggling to lend support to the explanation that I gave. It was just an accident. I didn’t seek it out. Please believe me, daddy. Please.

I don’t see him move – I only feel it, a sudden shock of white sensation as he backhands me across the face, as I stumble, almost fall down at his feet from the force of his attack. Tears well up in my eyes before the pain has time to reach my consciousness…but it finds me soon enough, the stinging sharpness that blooms pinkly where he struck me, glowing hot upon my cheek, while my heart pounds swiftly in a greater agony of fear. I’ve only just regained my footing when he takes a step in my direction, advances on me with his jaw still set, his gaze still hard and sharp as steel, bonus veren siteler and I stumble backwards, terrified of what he’ll do. “Daddy, no…” Helpless pleading as I back away, tears trickling along my cheeks. He’s reaching for me, his hand extending out to grab me, and there’s no further I can get away, my back already pressed against the wall. His fingers curling around my neck, squeezing with a tiny fraction of his strength that still leaves me gasping, struggling to breathe, staring desperate up into his eyes as though he were a vengeful god.

“Do not lie to me, Sarah.” His grip closes briefly tighter with the word, precise and threatening, a warning to which I can only pitifully nod. I’m pinned against the wall, I can’t escape. He’s so much bigger than I am, so much stronger. Looming there before me, leaning down to look me in the eye, his stern and rugged features filling up my vision as he speaks again. The bitter taste of venom in his voice, painful in my ear. “I know about the stories you’ve been reading. I know what you’ve been doing up here, masturbating like a little whore.”

There’s only one thing I can think to say. “I’m sorry, daddy.” The words just thinly gasped, forced past his hand still tight around my throat. Urgent, anguished, pleading. One of my hands is latched around his wrist, the other pressed into his broad and sturdy chest, but I don’t even try to push him off – I know how fruitless it would be. “Please, I shouldn’t have…” My body weak and trembling before him, tears streaking slickly down my cheeks. The pain still throbs there where he struck me, the uncomfortable constriction of his fingers round my neck – but worse than either one of these is the knowledge that he’s right, that he’s given nothing but a fraction of the punishment that I deserve. I lied to him. I tried to keep things secret. I dove into these fervid, foul fantasies, as though I had any right at all…the shame I feel roils sick inside my stomach, miserable for having failed him, for having let him down. It surrenders to him, staring up in damp and earnest misery into his eyes, confessing all my wrongs. “I’m so, so sorry…”

Joy. Relief – I’ve pleased him, at least a little bit. His grip relaxes, the flicker of a smile even playing at those regal lips. A shadow of amusement set to mingle with his righteous wrath. “And what are you sorry for, exactly?” His hand turns, rises up to touch upon my face. His fingers trailing through my tears, spreading them across my cheek, my mouth. I can taste them, their salty tang of shame and sorrow mixing with the subtle satisfaction of his fingers scraping rough upon my lips. “For getting caught?”

“No,” I shake my head at him, sincere, insistent. Whispering my apologies into his fingertips. “For lying. I knew I shouldn’t, daddy, but I was so ashamed, I thought I couldn’t let you know.” My hand squeezing at his wrist, fervent and imploring. I want to kiss his fingers, to kneel at his feet, to abase myself and make him see how bad I feel for what I’ve done. To tell him I’d do anything to make it right…

“And what about for wasting my time, hm?” His voice halfway between a growl and a purr, deep and husky, dangerous. Taunting, as his fingers move to curl at my jawline, his cracked and calloused thumbtip taking over at the task of stroking at my mouth. The motion soft, seductive, pushing at that pliant flesh in slow, implacable caresses, and the shiver that I feel along my spine isn’t just from fear. Thrilling at his touch, warmth kindling deliciously between my thighs, my lower lips tingling jealously for a similar attention. The sensation of it subtle, sweetly aching…it’s hard for me to hear his words, to understand them. “Are you sorry for that? For staying up here, diddling yourself with those girly little fingers while I was downstairs waiting for you to realize your place?”

The moment hangs there anxiously between us, a beat that feels like hours as I grapple for the meaning of his words. The sense of what he’s saying slipping slow into my disbelieving consciousness. My gaze shocked wide and white, staring up into his penetrating eyes, his predatory smile. My lips parting for some instinctive, thoughtless exclamation – but I’ve only just begun to shape it when his meaty thumb thrust bold into my mouth, turns my speech into an incoherent mush as it lays heavy on my tongue. Tasting subtly of oil, of grease, of dirt and sweat…and yet it’s almost automatic how I accept its presence there, my lips closing once again to seal it eagerly inside, teeth touching daintily between his knuckles. How I suckle softly at his digit, clean him with my tongue, lapping diligent across that cherished skin. My heartbeat pounding madly in my chest, ecstatic at this opportunity to serve him.

“Don’t worry, now.” His voice caresses rough upon my consciousness, filling up the part of me that still can think. Commanding my attention. “You’re going to make up for all that wasted time. All those years you should have been there in your daddy’s bed.” Stepping even closer, trapping me between him and the wall as his other hand comes up, brushes mine aside to grasp and fondle at my chest, squeezing one small bahis breast possessively within his grasp. The pleasure that I feel with his touch is only heightened by the note of arrogant appreciation which climbs into his gaze, regarding me. Mixing with the spice and danger of the threat already there. “I’m going to mold you, baby girl. I’m going to make you mine, my slut, my little angel-whore.” His fingers latch upon my rigid nipple, pinch it in his viselike grip until I can’t help crying out. As best as I can manage, around his thumb still in my mouth. Then he slides in closer still, the stubble of his cheek rasping coarse against my skin as his lips touch barely to my ear, whispering low and husky, stinging and delicious. “Is that what you want, baby?”

My answer is a moan, a whimper pitiful and plaintive – I can feel his responding chuckle rumble confidently through his chest, aggressive and amused. And a moment’s keening loss inside me as his thumb is ripped away, as I no longer have the comfort of its imposing presence in my mouth. “Use your words, little girl.” His face appearing one again before me, strong and weathered, smirking. His finger sliding confidently on my chin, my neck, leaving in its wake a sopping trail of my own saliva.

“…yes, daddy.” Soft and breathless, my voice is just a whisper. A vibrant glow inside my breast, while my stomach flutters wildly with nerves.

“‘Yes, daddy,’ what?” Firm, demanding. My eyes are fixed to his, trapped there like my body is against the wall, but I can feel his hand as it continues sliding down, catching on my blouse’s neckline. A moment there, the fabric tightening behind my back…I can’t keep myself from flinching as a button loudly snaps, flies off to impact on the floor. His hand descending lower still, into the space that’s newly opened.

“I want you to do it.” Whispered, still. The thrill inside my heart aches almost painful, an electric throbbing of excitement for me to say this wish aloud, to think that it could be. To feel his fingers stroking in the valley of my breasts, another button snapping at his strength. “I want to be your little slut.”

The word emerges only faintly, my tongue struggling to shape its harshness. A sheen of scarlet on my cheeks, deliciously humiliated…but it’s joined by such a sense of bliss inside me as I see the lustful satisfaction rise up triumphant in his gaze, curl smirking in his smile. “Good…” One long downward stroke, and the remaining buttons of my blouse are torn away like tissue paper by his descending hand, sent to roll and scatter on the floor. The fabric pulled apart, opened, my naked breasts exposed for him to see. My nipples hard as little diamonds, standing tall as though to beg for his attention, for his eyes, for his fingers tough as iron to pinch them once again.

The prayer is halfway answered. Not a pinch but a caress, his fleshy thumbtip scraping at one pink and pebbled nub. An exultant gasp escaping slowly from my throat, almost squealing with delight. His lips descending to my neck, a forceful kiss encircled by the scratch of day-old whiskers on my skin, intoxicating pleasure buzzing dizzy in my mind…daddy. I say it in my head, in tiny groans and whimpers, gratitude and pleading both reflected in the name. Oh, daddy, daddy…

Then his hand is stroking down again across my belly, outstretched fingers laying claim to everything they touch. Sneaking in beneath the waistband of my jeans – two fingers twist expertly to unhook the little metal clasp before his hand invades my panties, demanding, bold, before he cups possessively upon my puss. A single firm, insistent squeeze enough to overwhelm my senses with a spasm of delight, to leave me trembling against his broad and sturdy chest, while his exploring fingers probe and stroke amidst my petals, coated in the slick and hopeful flow of my arousal.

“Daddy…” I speak it now, squeal the word, whining to him like an animal in heat. The flush of feeling on my cheeks as I clutch weakly at his shirt, as his strong arm closes tight around my back and his middle finger presses undeniably between my drooling inner lips. Pathetic whimpers, my hips quivering against his hand. “Please…” I don’t know what I’m even asking him, what I’m begging for. Just that I want him to be the one to give it to me.

Deeper. His finger hooked inside me, his rough voice resonating in my skull. Powerful, amused. “You’re dripping wet, baby girl. You must need daddy bad.” Pumping in and out of me with lazy, teasing strokes, just quick enough to make me want it more, want it faster, harder. “Is that right? You need your daddy to make you cum?”

I have no words of my own. I can only echo his, gasped out breathlessly between the stifled moans that rise up helpless from my throat. “Ohh, yes, daddy, make me cum.” Writhing wanton there against him, my breasts exposed against his shirt, helplessly ecstatic at the sensation of my rigid nipples rubbing, scraping at the fabric. Drinking every drop of Him that I can find. “make me cum, daddy, please, please…”

“Mmm.” Another quiet chuckle in his chest – I gasp and shudder in a momentary flood of feeling as his big hand slaps against deneme bonusu my burning pussy, his middle finger thrusting firm and hard into my depths, squeezing agonizingly exquisite at my inner walls. And then an aching cry of need as motion stops, as he just stands there, holding me impaled. A husky whisper in my ear, almost conspiratorial. “You need to do something first.” His lips caress my earlobe, the moisture of his breath warm upon my skin. “You need to tell me who you belong to, little slut.”

Even with my mind so overwhelmed with pleasure and with need, I know the answer that he wants. The only answer that could be. “I belong to you, daddy.” The words are thrilling on my tongue, an electric tingle that arcs deliriously along my nerves as I intone them soft and worshipful.

“That’s right.” Murmuring approval – I whimper quietly into his chest to feel him give me my reward, a moment’s searing pleasure as his palm grinds rough against my clit. “Daddy owns you, babygirl. Every inch of you is mine, to do with as I please. This is Daddy’s mouth to use,” his thumb strokes perfectly again across my lower lip. “These are Daddy’s tits to taste, to squeeze, Daddy’s pretty little cunt to fuck into submission.” Another shudder up my spine, as his meaty finger bucks inside me. My head tilts back drunkenly to look him in the eye, and the subtle smile that he wears is thick with threat and promise. A deceptive softness to his voice now, insidiously gentle. “I’ll protect you, sweetheart. Daddy takes care of his property. But you’re never going to leave, you understand?” No worry to his tone, no pleading – just certainty, as pitiless and firm as the rigid heat that I feel pressing to my belly. His hand slides round to loosely grasp again around my neck, squeezing mild and possessive. His voice a low, seductive rumble in my mind. “I’m keeping you, Sarah. This is what you’re meant to be. My pet. My obedient little girl, my precious little whore.” Just the slightest trace of fire, of the undeniable command of which he’s capable, before he lets me go. “Now get down on your knees. It’s time for you to serve your Daddy properly.”

There isn’t any hesitation, no question inside of me, no doubt. A good girl does what her Daddy says. And that’s exactly what I want to be…he looms up tall before me as I sink down to my knees, as the metal buckle of his belt softly clinks to be undone, his zipper hissing as the stiffened slab of his arousal is released for me to see, for me to touch, thick and hot and heavy. I know the bliss that burns inside my chest, I recognize it, the sense of satisfaction like slipping on a shirt that fits just right. Belonging. This is where I’m meant to be, kneeling at my Daddy’s feet. What I’m meant to be, the favored toy of his desires, loved and used. His strong hands curled behind my skull to firmly force my mouth around his straining manhood. My tongue caressing it beneath in adoration, servant to his pleasure, starving for the coming moment when I might be favored with his seed, when I can taste my Daddy’s cum, treasuring every salty, viscous drop. My jaw forced wide to accommodate his girth, as he already pounds against my throat, and I fall deeper to the fuzz of bliss inside my mind…

—

Warm. Quiet. My eyes open only slowly, scratchy, their corners crusted up with sleep. Daylight glaring in at me through my bedroom window blinds. Bright. Too bright – I must have slept in late. The thought drifts dully through my consciousness as it stirs grumbling to motion. Dreaming…god, the dream I had. Already the details are fading from my memory, evaporating to a vague, uncertain fog, but I can feel what it was like, my body’s lingering reaction to its stimulation, the liquid heat still aching down within my hips. My dad, discovering somehow the fantasies I’ve had, deciding that it’s time to make me his – thinking of it sends another pulse of hunger down between my legs, another cry of need, almost deep enough to hurt. Touch me. Begging, though he isn’t there to listen. Touch me, daddy.

In the sleepy warmth beneath the covers, I don’t feel much reason not to let my hand slip down below my waist. Inside my panties, the fabric there already dampened from my emanations of the night. My fingers rubbing slow across the slickness of my nether lips, stroking at my clit, my mind reaching out to grab what I can still remember of the dream before it slips entirely away. Little flashes, feelings, imagined instants where his hand sits firm around my tender throat, where it squeezes, pinches at my breasts. Where I’m kneeling down submissive at his feet with a sense of such belonging, such utter rightness. My Daddy standing tall above me, protecting me from everything, and all I need to know is how to make him happy. All I need to do is be his baby girl. His angel and his slut, his perfect little princess and his eager little whore, and the seeming conflict of the roles resolved by my devotion, by my willingness to cast myself to any shape that he desires. And god, how it would feel when he carried me to bed, when his strong arms spread my legs apart and I was suddenly impaled with his thickness, crushed beneath his weight, my body battered by the ferocity and power of his lust. Being taken by him, being used in every way, until I can only lay there limply in a mindless haze of rapture, until at last he roars out his release, he explodes inside of me, until I’m gifted with the blessing of my daddy’s seed…

Grandpa’s Chubby Granddaughter

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Asian

Please note that this story has incestuous and anal themes.

******

The four hands working on the two keyboards located almost two hundred miles apart were all trembling for a variety of reasons. The weathered 65 years old hands often shook to some degree and as Albert Sharpe paused, taking a deep breath in an effort to so his heart down a bit, he looked at the long bony fingers as they caressed the keys of the computer and shook his head while inside his mind his shame grew.

The pudgy fingers of the 18 year old Patty Barber 178 miles east were also shaking, but much more so. The chubby teen was not used to being pursued like this, and if that wasn’t unusual enough, the fact that the guy doing the pursuing wasn’t a pimply boy from school but a man – a much much older man who was married to a woman around his age, and that woman was Patty Barber’s grandmother.

Grandfathers are supposed to love their granddaughters, mused Albert Sharpe as he looked at the phone beside the computer, trying to will it to ring as the stared that the dialogue on the screen, but not like this. Not the way he thought when it came to Patty.

It had never happened before to Albert, and with 4 other granddaughters he had never so much as entertained a moment’s thought about any of them, at least not the way he did about Patty. They had always had a special bond, and as the girl became a woman that relationship became ever more intense.

The last visit Albert and his wife paid to their daughter’s house over the holidays had been the breaking point, and although nothing had actually happened that was only due to the hectic activity at the house and Patty’s confused resistance. If it was up to Albert it would have been different and he knew that in the end he would have imposed his will on the cherubic teen.

The chirp of the phone next to him woke Albert out of his daydreaming, and after fumbling with the device for a moment, he managed to corral it and brought it to his ear while staring at the screen in front of him.

“Patty?” Albert asked tentatively.

“It’s me Grandpa,” the child-like voice responded, and Albert fought to keep in mind that while the voice sounded much like it always had, the body it came out of was very much a woman.

“Nice to hear your voice, honey,” Albert said. “Thanks for calling. Computers are nice but it’s nice to talk one-on-one too. You have been deleting our conversations, haven’t you honey?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl. It wouldn’t do to have anybody else know about out little chats,” Albert said. “Did you get the picture I sent you last night?”

“Yes,” the quivering voice replied.

“Well? What did you think?”

“Was that really you?” Patty asked, and after Albert assured his granddaughter that the lewd picture of a erect penis with a deck of playing cards next to it that was about half the length of the organ was indeed him, Patty exhaled and said, “Looked really big.”

“Now how would my little girl know about the sizes of those things?” Albert teased. “I thought you said you were still a virgin?”

“I am,” Patty said. “But I’ve seen guy’s things.”

“Held them?” Albert asked. “Done other things with them?”

“Grandpa…” Patty whined.

“You can tell your Grandpa because you know I would never tell a soul.”

“I held Eddie Baker’s thing,” Patty confessed, and after Albert pressed for details she admitted, “I jerked him off.”

“That’s all?” Albert inquired. “Did he cum?”

“Yeah. All over my hand,” Patty explained.

“I’ll bet he did. His wasn’t as big as mine?”

“Omigod no,” Patty giggled.

“Did you put his dick in your mouth?

“Grandpa…” Patty whined.

“Just curious honey,” Albert assured his granddaughter. “You want to know what I was looking at to get that excited?” Albert asked, and without waiting for an answer the old man hit a few buttons.

After selecting one of the tamer photos the old man selected a picture of Patty in her bathrobe that he had snapped as she was bending over and exposing a generous amount of her cavernous cleavage at the neck of the robe.

“Omigod!” he heard Patty gasp as the image appeared on her screen. “When did you take that picture?”

“I have my ways,” Albert chuckled.

“I look like a cow,” Patty lamented.

“Ssh… you look beautiful,” Albert replied as he looked through the rest of the photos he had managed to take of Patty in various stages of undress.

Sadly, bad timing had none of the photos taken by the timer showed his granddaughter in all her glory, Albert thought as he looked at his favorite, a shot of Patty innocently adjusting her bra straps. As he looked at the heavy duty harness that was filled with a whole lot of flesh he thought about that moment when he ran into Patty in the laundry room that last visit.

“This must not be your Mom’s,” Albert remembered saying as he held up the brassiere with the huge cups while Patty blushed as he poured detergent into the machine. “My, you are a very Side Escort well developed young woman. You shouldn’t hide yourself like you do.”

42DD. Albert remembered reading the tag, and the thought of Patty’s small-breasted mother needing a bra like that was amusing, but then again not many females could come close to filling that garment’s cavernous cups.

“Grandpa?”

Patty’s voice brought Albert’s wandering mind back to earth, and after Albert recovered and told Patty he was still there, he asked her whether she had deleted the photo of his erection.

“Sort of. I have it hidden,” Patty said. “Besides, it doesn’t show your face or anything. Probably isn’t really you.”

“It is. Do you like it?”

“Sort of. It’s kind of scary looking.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. All shiny with the veins and stuff.”

“Probably because I put lubricant on it before I took the picture. You’ll be able to see for yourself pretty soon that it isn’t so scary,” Albert said. “I’ve convinced your grandmother we should visit you in the second week of May.”

“You are?”

“Yes honey. I’m curious though. How come you didn’t just delete the photo?”

“I should have,” Patty said after a brief moment of silence.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Albert told his granddaughter. “I can’t wait until we are face to face so we can see each other in the flesh. I’m curious about something though. You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“I see a lot of girls – on the Internet and all – and they don’t have any hair – down there. I guess they shave it or wax it. Is that something you do?”

“Uh… no, I don’t. Do you want me to?”

“Omigod no,” Albert said quickly. “Heavens! I guess I’m just showing my age, but to me it just looks – wrong, I guess.”

“I did it once a long time ago – a friend did it for me.”

“Boyfriend or girlfriend?” Patty’s grandfather asked as his left hand slid off of the keyboard and into the fly of his pajamas.

“Girlfriend,” Patty replied. “We shaved each other.”

“Oh honey, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when that was going on. That girl – did you and her ever…”

“Grandpa?” Patty whined.

“Sorry honey, but I guess I’m just a normal guy like that,” Albert admitted as he pulled his stiffening staff out and slowly pulled on it. “You shave each other all the time?”

“No, I just did it that one time. It really itched when it grew back, and it grew back so fast too,” Patty explained.

“And I’ll bet you have a lot of hair down there too.”

“How do you know that?”

“Just guessed,” Albert said. “I’m guessing that you had a whole lot more down there than your girlfriend. I’m imagining you have a nice big triangle of hair down there, nice and soft and thick.”

“Do you want me to trim it?”

“No honey, I want you just the way you are,” Albert said. “I can’t wait until we visit soon.”

“Me neither, Grandpa,” Patty said. “I’m scared though.”

“That’s okay honey. I am too. I’m like a virgin myself. I haven’t had sex with your Grandma in over three years. Nothing at all,” Albert mumbled, and he wondered that if his wife had even touched him like she used to, he wouldn’t be preying on his innocent granddaughter like this.

“I have homework to do, Grandpa,” Patty said.

“I have things to do myself,” Albert agreed, and after they said their good-byes Patty hit the books while Albert brought the picture of Patty back onto the screen.

“Oh Patty,” Albert sobbed as his hand moved up and down the length of a shaft that was every bit as stiff as it was when he was his granddaughter’s age. “The things I want to do to you.”

A few minutes later Albert was wiping the semen off of his hand and crotch, the guilt setting in as his organ went limp.

“Hurry up May,” he mumbled to himself.

***

Albert’s wife took forever to fall asleep, and the old man was getting so impatient that he was tempted to just leave the guest room and keep his appointment with his granddaughter regardless, but in the end he waited and after her deep breathing began he crept out.

Out in the hall, Albert gently stepped his way down to where his granddaughter’s room was. The door was open and when he looked inside and saw that the bad was empty his heart started beating faster. Making the turn at the end of the hall, Albert did his best to avoid making the stairs creak as he made his way down to the landing where he opened the door to the basement.

The old man closed to the door behind himself and walked down the steps gingerly in the murky light. There was a little more light down in the basement proper, and most of it came from the laundry room in the back. Already Albert’s cock was tingling as it wiggled around in his pajamas as he walked, and as the anticipation built the senior citizen knew that it was not too late to stop and walk away, but he also knew that he just couldn’t bring himself to do that.

And there she was, Manavgat Escort standing down at the end of the laundry room between the dryer and the washer that faced each other. Patty. She looked scared, and that was what made her even more desirable to Albert. She gave her grandfather a nervous grin as her fingers clutched at the bottom of her plain white nightgown.

So pure, Albert thought, and while she may not be society’s vision of beautiful Patty was exactly that to him. She carried some extra pounds on her 5’4″ frame, but most of them were in the right places. The nightie wasn’t anything sexy but it was thin enough so Albert could see the shape of much of what was underneath.

The rounded shoulders were mostly bare and the nightie allowed him to see most of her plump but shapely legs from mid-thigh down. Underneath the fabric Albert could seek her large full breasts that hung down almost to her stomach, and her fat nipples looked to be erect as they strained against the satin.

Albert’s eyes were lower, past her little belly and then lower still to where the image of the dark wide triangle between her legs sent a chill down the old man’s spine.

“You look so pretty honey,” Albert whispered as he began to unbutton his pajama top, smiling when her looked down and saw her socks that had little kittens all over them. “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

“It’s okay,” Patty replied as she watched her grandfather set aside the shirt, exposing a slender and pale frame with a cloud of silver hair on his chest, and while it was nothing she hadn’t seen a dozen times out in the pool it was much different this time.

Albert remained in the doorway of the laundry room while Patty fidgeted down at the other end with her back to the mirror that hung there, and the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife as the old man brought his hands to the clasp of the pajama bottoms.

The basement was so quiet that when Albert undid the clasp, the snap that came with them being opened was very audible, as was the soft sound of the garment hitting the concrete floor when the pajama bottoms landed.

“See,” Albert said, holding his palms out after kicking the pajamas from his ankles and presenting his 65 year old body for inspection. “Not so bad, right Patty?”

Albert smiled as he see Patty’s eyes followed his flaccid penis as it swayed gently before settling down, and as he reached down to take his cock in hand he gave it a long stretch before asking, “Not so scary, is it?”

Albert was amused when Patty nodded vigorously, not certain what that meant, but it didn’t matter because Albert was starting to walk slowly towards his granddaughter. When he got halfway there he whispered, “Aren’t you going to take your nightie off so Grandpa can see how sexy you are?”

Patty remained frozen in place along with Albert, with only six feet or so between them. Albert nodded towards the top of the dryer where a jar of Vaseline sat and whispered, “You remembered. Good girl. You want me to take your nightie off for you?”

Patty shook her head no and then with an agonizing slowness she reached down and lifted the nightie up and over her Rubenesque body, revealing herself to her grandfather for the first time, and to the old man his wildest imagination had fallen short of reality.

“Patty honey, you’re even more beautiful than I pictured you,” Albert said as she reached over and steadied himself with a hand on the folding table, his eyes traveling from the wide and thick bush of dark brown hair that filled the delta between her chubby thighs before traveling upward.

Patty’s breasts hung to her stomach because of the sheer size of the pendulous globes, and the fleshy jugs were capped with thimble sized nipples that rested in the center of her slightly egg-shaped pink aureolas. The little pooch belly below the massive breasts only made her look cuter in his eyes.

During the brief time Albert took in eyeballing his granddaughter her eyes had been trained on his cock, which was rising of its own accord much like it was a car being lifted by a jack, and with every involuntary twitch of his weathered cock the vein-riddled organ got longer and thicker.

“Don’t be scared honey,” Albert said as she watched Patty’s chest heave, her breathing becoming more rapid and her face flushed with the widening of her eyes as he skinned back the long foreskin briefly to expose the plum beneath it. “Here.”

With that Albert took the two steps needed to reach Patty, and as he hugged her and felt her hands come around to embrace him in return he felt his cock bend upwards between their bodies.

“There,” Albert sighed as he kissed Patty’s forehead while bringing his hands to her sides and letting them move up so he could have his thumbs slide under Patty’s upraised arms to stroke the moist warm flesh of her armpits.

“I shaved this morning Grandpa. Really,” Patty said while blushing deeper as her grandfather’s thumbs caressed the faint stubble that filled Alanya Escort the large craters.

“I know honey,” Albert whispered, as he enjoyed the feel of the rough skin that had been smooth as glass earlier that day. “You don’t have to ever shave if you don’t want to, you know. Grandpa doesn’t mind.”

“Too hairy,” Patty mumbled, and while Albert didn’t think that was possible he decided not to press it, fearing the mention of her grandmother and her hippie days decades ago would only add to Patty’s guilt.

“I want to see more of you honey,” Albert said, and with that he moved his confused granddaughter over to the folding table, instructing her to bend over for him.

“I don’t want to get pregnant,” Patty said as she leaned over the table, her dangling jugs flattening on the surface as her grandfather’s hands pulled her cheeks apart.

“Spread your legs honey,” Albert said as he knelt down behind Patty after grabbing the jar of lube and opening it, and after she inched her feet farther apart he scooped out some Vaseline before taking her fleshy buttocks in his hands again and parting her ass cheeks wide.

“So perfect,” Albert sighed as he looked at Patty’s private parts.

He had expected Patty’s bush to grow right up through the crack of her ass like her mother’s had, but although the thick jungle grew deep up into her crotch and even on the insides of her thighs it stopped just short of her anus, exposing a cherry pink balloon knot that looked untouched.

“Oh!” Patty gasped as she felt something wet rub against her anus. “What…”

“Just my finger honey. Now just relax for Grandpa.”

“Ow!” Patty whimpered as Albert slipped his index finger into his granddaughter’s anus, and he hissed at her to be quiet as he pushed the long bony digit deep into her steamy cavity.

“There, not too bad is it?” Albert asked as he began to work the greased finger in and out.

“I guess,” Patty mumbled as she began to get accustomed to the probe, and she actually seemed unhappy when Albert finally extracted the finger completely.

“OH!” Patty cried out when she felt her grandfather’s face push into the crack of her butt, his tongue flicking her anus briskly while he tried to force his entire face into the crevice. “What’s…”

The senior citizen grunted as his tongue swabbed the puppy balloon knot, a little frustrated by the fact that because Patty’s buttocks were plump he couldn’t reach to use his talented tongue to burrow deep into the sweet ass although the tart taste and pungent aroma made his cock drip onto the linoleum.

“Got to have you honey,” Albert grunted as he rose and quickly spread a wad of lube onto his throbbing organ before moving up behind Patty, who barely had time to blurt out not to put it in her bottom before he was pushing forward.

“Ssh!” Albert hissed as he first tried to put his hand over his granddaughter’s mouth before grabbing a dirty shirt from the pile and sticking it in her mouth before continuing to try and force the bulbous knob of his cock into her virgin ass.

“There,” Albert grunted as the ridge popped inside her vice-like anus, and as he leaned closer to force more of his veiny monster into his granddaughter’s ass she kept whimpering that it hurt.

“Want Grandpa to stop?” he asked as he leaned over her back, the soft white flesh scarred only by the strap marks of her ill-fitting bra.

“No,” Patty finally whispered and after a few seconds of silence asked, “Is it all in?”

“Just about honey,” Albert lied since more that half of his shaft was still outside the crack, but it apparently calmed her down enough for him to work some more of him in gradually while rocking back and forth. “You’re taking it like a big girl.”

Another lie, Albert realized as Patty’s soft sobbing continued. His daughter hadn’t carried on like Patty he recalled, and that made him think of Patty’s mother and that night decades ago.

Patty’s mother Elaine hadn’t even shed a tear, and in fact Albert remembered that his petite daughter’s ass wasn’t even as tight as her pussy would turn out to be, and as he moved his greased cock in and out of Patty’s ass he couldn’t help but wonder if Patty’s Mom snoozing upstairs got it in the ass from her needle-dick husband because she sure loved it way back then.

“Brace yourself up on the table,” he instructed Patty, getting her to straighten up a bit so he could reach around the plump teen and grope her tits.

The huge doughy jugs were wet with sweat as Albert’s hand’s kneaded and roughed up the heavy hangers, while all the time his cock kept steadily sliding in and out of the steamy cauldron of Patty’s bowels.

The end was near as the faint symphony grew a bit louder. It was a vile and vulgar composition they were creating; the light squeak of the table Patty was leaning on, the soft grunts muffled by the shirt stuffed back in his granddaughter’s mouth, his feral grunts that accompanied each thrust and the slapping of their wet skin as the tempo increased until finally…

“Ahh!” Albert groaned as he stopped, his cock buried in Patty’s ass to the hilt, and then he let out another groan as his cock erupted, sending spurts of his seed deep into his granddaughter’s bowels as his cock jerked inside the tight orifice.