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I Am My Own Grandpa (mF, mf, mffF, comedy, incest)

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Offline Sweetums

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on: December 03, 2020, 04:07:29 AM
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.  You must be 18 or over to read this story.  In real life, incestuous relationships, particularly when an under-aged person is involved with a parent or adult, often causes deep psychological damage.  This story is provided for entertainment purposes only.  The author does not condone any sexual activity with persons under 18 in real life.

Note from the author: I am not a fan of incest, but I am helplessly attracted to views and comments, and in researching what people enjoy fapping their hot sausages and jilling their slick slots to, incest apparently tops the list. Yes, I am a shameless view and comment whore, so please feast your eyes on the full nakedness of my stories and drizzle, squirt, or grind your excited comments all over the rear end of my sordid tale.

A further note from the author: Now that I have completed the first chapter of this tale, I regret to inform you that there is no actual incest in it, at least not in the strictest sense where genetically related relatives, narrowly genetically related individuals, boink and otherwise risk creating offspring with severe genetic problems. Nevertheless, I assure you that in this chapter you’ll find reams of situationally incestuous behavior producing a plethora of tiresomely genetically healthy offspring. I also assure you that in future chapters there will be so much boinking of genetically close individuals that genetic damage heretofore unimagined in the history of mankind will surely result.


I Am My Own Grandpa

Chapter One: Origin

My name is Roger Beaucunt, and this is the story of how I came to rule with an iron fist (or close enough) the small but prosperous town of Thebes in what would become the state of Colorado. I am not much to look at. I am strapping tall I suppose, with dark red hair and hazel eyes. My most notable feature is probably a birthmark above my right nipple in the shape of Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior.

I don’t really remember anything specific of my past before the age of thirteen. The fishmonger’s wife who fished me out of the water said I was thrown clear when the steamboat I had been traveling down the Mississippi on blew up. The newspaper said it was the boiler and that there was not a single survivor. That fishmonger’s wife, whose name was Charlotte Beaucunt, said it should stay that way, since she didn’t have any money to adopt me with, so that was that.

Mrs. Beaucunt was recently a widow, left with two small daughters, the Beaucunt sisters, Tracy and Becky. Her husband, Angus Beaucunt, had died in the river only that previous month. So we were both suddenly the only family each other had, excepting her two young Beaucunts, of course.

Mrs. Beaucunt, or Mommy as I would call her, since she was the only mother I ever knew up until that time, stripped off my tattered clothes and tended my wounds, which were all luckily minor. Being an excitable boy, seeing the rise of my new mommy’s ample bosom as she washed me lovingly, aroused my manhood. Her dark, erect nipples pressed hard up against the fabric of her light cotton shift as she washed me. I felt her hands and warm washcloth rub me all over. I gazed, still faint and dazed, into her pleasing smiling interested face, only mildly scored with age. As my member helplessly stood at attention and presented arms to her, she examined my assets with amazement, declaring that even though I was only thirteen, the size and girth of my member easily exceeded that of her late husband’s.

She then introduced me to a special washing that she said would help me forget the pain of my wounds, and it did. She kissed the tip of my stiff shuddering weenie, poked out her tongue very gently, and slowly slid her mouth down and down my young virgin shaft like an anaconda. I didn’t have the capacity to be amazed by this, because my young body was shivering with far more pleasure than I had ever experienced in my tender young life. “Mommy!” I cried, “Is this right you are with your mouth like this? Surely heaven isn’t allowed to men alive.”

She disgorged me for a moment to answer, causing me to buck and thrust helplessly like a caught fish on the small rickety bed of her chamber as my body strained to feel the warm wet embrace of her mouth just a little more. She held me down firmly and whispered, “Hush now my new son, this is only a bit of the pleasure a man gets from a woman to ease his way in life and so that he should always treasure her. You need to learn this to grow up and take your place in the world. Now lie back and concentrate on Mommy Charlotte’s lesson, and when you feel it, you must give me all the baby juice you can out of your tip. It’s for the sake of your health.”

Then she returned slowly and deliciously to her labors, holding me as I cried out in desire and pleasure and my body shook for release as my member slowly slid past her forceful, twirling tongue down her tight throat, and slowly back up and then down again, and again, and again, each loving suction more delicious than the previous. The tiny girls had been alerted by my cries and were standing wide-eyed at their momma ministering to the strange boy who had invaded their house and their momma’s bed. They stood watching silently as I, with a high keening wail, unleashed the first sexual fluids of my young and callow life explosively and with unbelievable pleasure up into Mommy Charlotte’s suctioning throat.

“What are you doing, Mommy?” the older of the two Beaucunt sisters, Tracy, asked as I quivered and whimpered helplessly in post-orgasmic reverie.

“Never you mind, little one,” Mommy Beaucunt answered. “This here is your new big brother, with terrible injuries from his brush with death. After my ministrations he’ll heal just fine.” And sure enough, by the time she was even finished with her explanation, I had passed out with the bliss that succeeded and overwhelmed the incredible injury, memory loss, and overwhelm of that fateful day.

I awoke at sunset to find that a negro woman, dark as coal, was squatting over my once again stiffly erect and straining member. “Who are you?” I asked, staring at the naked African beauty, her skin dark as night, her heaving generous breasts tipped with sharp coal-dark nipples, her legs spread apart in her squat, showing me a moist woman’s place with dark prominent lips and a riveting brilliant pink juicy jelly at the center of it.

“I’m Clitty, the neighbor girl,” she said matter-of-factly, thrusting her slick, wet, tight womanhood down my thusly at that very same moment de-virginized pole. I cried out, immediately insensible at the extraordinary pleasure of it, a tight, twisting, grasping, tormenting maelstrom of pleasure far surpassing momma’s throat. Clitty continued, “Missus Beaucunt asked me to watch over you while she went for medicinals and clothes and foodstuffs and suchlike.”

“Why?” I croaked in extreme overwhelm, really wanting to know how I could deserve the blessing of her tight suctioning quim, as all men alive must at this very moment be falling over themselves and killing each other to come within reach of it in order to feel the outrageous ecstasy I was experiencing. “Why?” I croaked again, my mind a blank slate upon which pleasure and need were written equally large and naught else.

“Missus Charlotte said you might get restless with pain or such, and that I must promise to subdue you and keep you docile by any means necessary until her return. Well I deem it. Damn, how I deem it,” Clitty said, beginning to thrust and roll and rock her hips with delight now that she was fully seated upon me. “Don’t struggle now.”

Mrs. Beauchamp and the little ones returned some hours later, and at the emphatic screams and shouts coming from the shack, deemed that Roger and Clitty must be nearing death at some terrible fate. She dropped her bags and packages and sprinted down the narrow winding dirt path to their riverside shack.

Inside she found Clitty, her umpteenth desperate sweaty ride on yours truly just completed, sitting panting atop me, the white froth of our repeated congresses splashed all over and delightfully contrasting Clitty’s generous round ass and thighs and splashed halfway up my sweating, panting abdomen as well. Clitty addressed Momma guiltily, “He needed a lot of subduing!”

Then Clitty rose to stand over me as if to demonstrate. My potent seed poured out of her as she rose, splashing and spattering everywhere. Underneath, my male anatomy, despite my extreme efforts as well as Clitty’s, was still rigid and turgid, pointing at the sky, and crowing and pulsing for a repeat battle. I began to wonder, after the heaven I’d felt that day, whether I would ever be able to fit into pants again. Clitty whined, “Can you take back over now, Miz Beaucunt? I’m dizzy and had such continuous hysterics I can’t feel my legs anymore!” Then she added, “It was hard work but so rewarding! If you want me to help more after a nap…”

“You darling!” whimpered dear Charlotte in sympathy, “Go rest now. I’ll have one of the little ones bring you some broth in a little while.” During this exchange, I had fallen into a fitful sleep again, my member leaning slightly to the side now like the leaning tower of old, but still raging for further battle even in my slumber.

Over the next many days, I awoke fitfully to find either a glowing Charlotte or Clitty pounding their wondrous feminine places down on my maleness in a desperate effort to contain it as my fevers and chills came and went. Both Clitty and Charlotte needed to stop frequently to experience what I came to learn was a woman’s ultimate pleasure.

This pleasure came upon them especially hard when more of my baby juice, as Charlotte put it, erupted out of me, and I myself experienced a vertigo-inducing peak at those times that made me both strong and weak at once. Generally, this was when I passed again to the nether depths of my healing dreamland to regroup my strength. I can’t imagine the torment and hardship those poor women experienced as they tirelessly and without thought of themselves drove me again and again into dreamland, thereby slowly nursing me back to health.

I soon recovered enough to get up, bathroom myself in the outhouse, bathe myself, and the like. When Charlotte grew too tired of ministering to me constantly day and night, spreading and sighing, and wiping up all the fluids after, while also doing all the work of the household as well as tending the little Beaucunts, she sent me next door to Clitty, who was, although occasionally difficult to locate or hidden under her giant hood against the weather, with a little care would always stand tall and greet me forthrightly, especially when I kissed and licked her, and would allow me to pass through her door to the heaven that awaited me in her bed.

It was Clitty who showed me all the ways to please a woman while not flat on my back. She showed me all the rutting positions, sure, but also the use of fingers, lips, suction, tongue, and so forth. I learned that a boy could please a girl just as much or more as likewise, and that these ministrations greatly eased the way for a girl, in turn, to be ready to receive the full heft of a boy’s attentions.

She showed me also that a man could join pleasurably with a woman’s stink hole. I learned that if we properly managed it and made sure it was soft and slick with grease and whatnot, that it could be very pleasurable to both. It also had the added advantage of rerouting my baby juice away from the cradle in a woman’s hole that could make use of it, thus potentially preventing further future Beaucunts or Clittys, delightful as they’d be.

Clitty made me practice this a lot before she allowed me to try it on Mrs. Beaucunt. Charlotte had only ever had her poor late husband before me, and he had never availed himself. I was rewarded with many joyous cries of ultimate crisis and general writhing trembling delight as I opened up Charlotte’s new door of pleasure. I had a new delight for me as well when Charlotte sprayed a good shock of woman’s lubrication all over the bedsheets as she screamed and delighted in the new thrill. The sight and smell of it roused me, well, let’s just say it took both of them working hard together to calm me down that night enough to rest at all.

As the weeks rolled by, both Clitty and Charlotte began to swell with child. The little Beaucunt girls were so happy and excited that they would have baby brothers, sisters, nieces, or nephews to play with and manage coming up, depending on how you scored it. Even though the bellies demanded some changes in positioning, it caused Clitty and Charlotte to redouble their efforts to keep my willy in check. They seemed to think I would one day think them ugly and wander off to pollenate some other river flowers. I would sooner die. I was a loyal son and neighbor, and the places in and around the nethers of my women would always be my favorite savory snack.

Then tragedy struck soon after the birth of Clitty’s son, Billy Clitty. Some lawless river men spotted Clitty and her pink child next to the river doing washing one morning, landed, then defiled Clitty repeatedly by the look of it and then killed mother and child with hatchets and boat hooks.

We buried them next to Clitty’s modest shack and mourned greatly. After all the tragedy I’d already borne in my short life, I could barely move at first. Charlotte was strong, though, and had us all laughing and playing again by the time her second son and first grandson Beau Beaucunt (Bobo for short) popped out only a few short weeks after.

With Clitty having been forcibly evicted to a better and kinder place, I needed to find replacement support for my condition. Charlotte, a trouper, took on some of the extra work. Even directly after Bobo’s appearance, she would avail me of her mouth or stink hole while both nursing the babe and feeding the little girl Beaucunts their porridge. In addition, I became proficient with my hands and the local wildlife. Sows shut in nearby farm pens or yards seemed to enjoy my attentions especially when my condition was being particularly pernicious.

My condition became much improved around the time little Bobo was weaned and started walking a year later, as the very next day was my dear little sister Tracy’s thirteenth birthday. The present from me, approved by Momma, was for me to climb into Tracy’s bed after the riverboat whistle blew at 6 AM that morning, signaling that it was after the time of day Tracy was born on this day thirteen years prior.

Once I woke Tracy and pleasured her into a froth with my fingers and tongue, she whimpered and wailed that I should fill the void that had appeared unexpectedly within her, she knew not how. Tracy still only barely came up to my sternum while standing, so working my manly tool into her tiny virgin territory was like a hedgehog trying to work his way into a knothole.

Becky looked in on our frantic behavior from the hallway with rapt attention but total confusion. Later I told Becky I was giving her big sis a special birthday present of wrestling, and this explanation satisfied her.

Referring back to the hedgehog and knothole problem, work it in I eventually did, and as I made my way slightly into by far both the wettest and the tightest hole I had yet experienced in my tender youth, Tracy jerked and screamed as I broke her hymen. For the first ten thrusts, delicious beyond belief for me, she groaned, bearing her burden of pain like a good Christian woman rightly should. For the next ten thrusts, still infinitely juicy and delightful for me, she was quiet. For the ten thrusts after that, experienced cocksman that I was at least for my age, I was going out of my mind with pleasure, and she began to whimper.

Once those thirty thrusts were done, she began shuddering and shaking with her woman’s pleasure pretty much from beginning to end from there and every time we had conjugal relations thereafter, provided she was properly prepared beforehand, of course. For my part, she was the tightest, wildest, slickest, juiciest ride of my young life, every time, all the time. This went for her stink hole as much as for her baby hole, though since both were equally tight, I preferred her baby hole. She also learned to take it all down the throat as well as our ma or Clitty ever did, and soon could empty me in less than a minute if she had a mind to. And flexible: don’t get me started on flexible. Ma and Clitty were invalids compared to Tracy. We routinely began doing positions Clitty had only ever been able to describe to me.

The next few months passed in utter bliss, Tracy bouncing Bobo while I ravaged our ma, Charlotte taking him while I destroyed Tracy’s baby hole yet again. Then, not unexpectedly at all, the baby bumps began to show on the both of them. Emotions ran high again at the prospect of having a new daughter/sister or son/brother from Charlotte and a daughter/niece or son/nephew from Tracy.

As my ma and sister swelled with my children, we continued our high pace of conjugal bliss. Tracy especially emphasized that it was very important for her nerves and sleeping, especially the more flexible positions. Both women had occasional digestive problems, and we found that nothing got the pipes running again better than a really rough and thorough ride up the stink hole, so this became a popular sport nearing the end especially.

Soon there were two new little Beaucunts, Charlotte’s and my daughter/sister Lolly Beaucunt, Lollyboo for short, and Tracy’s and my son/nephew Richard Beaucunt, Dick for short. Bobo was so happy to have a new brother and sister to show the world to, and Becky was happy as well, as were we all. As before, my mother’s and sister’s lady holes had been deeply stressed by the births, so I satisfied myself with their slippery and very pleasant throats and stink holes in those early days supplemented by the occasional suck of juicy milk from a lactating teat. In no time, we were back to all our usual antics, just with more babies to pass around as my ma and my sister took their turns under me or any which way we both wanted.

The next year passed quickly, and soon Lollyboo and Dick were weaned, though all of us, including Becky and Bobo, loved to suck milk from Tracy’s teats or mama’s. In fact, mama would often suck sweet milk from Tracy’s teats, while more rarely Tracy would lie still and suckle from mama.

More importantly, Becky’s thirteenth birthday arrived, and I had a big hard surprise waiting for her on her birthday morning after the riverboat whistle blew. She awoke to find me savoring her delicious holes and especially sucking on her love button, all-fragrant with her youthful scent. After many minutes of her learning to cry out properly whenever her ultimate pleasure came upon her, the emptiness started to creep into her womb, starting as a general lack, and ending up almost painful as she begged me to remedy it.

With both mama and Tracy looking on expectantly, I started my masculine rod into Becky’s juicy but near-nonexistant opening. I thoroughly wet the head of my cock with her slickness and then pressed and pressed with great firmness, and finally my rod jerked forward as it destroyed Becky’s tough hymen. She shrieked in pain and began to cry. Tracy told her little sis softly of the burdens of a Christian woman as I delightedly thrilled my way deeper and deeper into the incredibly tight extent of Becky’s miniscule love tunnel.

Even now, a couple of years older and more experienced in the bedroom, I was overcome with more pleasure and emotion than I had ever experienced, unbelievable amounts. Before I was two strokes in my darling Becky that first time, I had my first crisis of her and howled my guts and soul out as I filled her tight baby hole with an especially thick globby batch of my hot seed. I rested for only a moment as my thick semen mixed with her dark blood squirted and splashed out from around our joining, staining her bedsheets indelibly.

Like her sister before her, although crying out like murder in the beginning, in thirty strokes she was having her extreme pleasure constantly, and urging me harder and thanking me in between for finally making her a woman. Bloody froth flew everywhere as I rode my little sister harder and faster both than I had ever done before with any other, goaded there by Becky’s energetic yowls commanding this and her sharp nails digging into my back as she felt her ultimate woman’s moment stronger and stronger as we accelerated.

Mama and Tracy left us then, and we continued to come at each other incessantly until around noontime when Becky’s bed broke, snapped in two, and we tumbled onto the floor. Still we rutted, not missing a beat, until Tracy and mama came in and begged Becky to leave some of me left alive for them as they had developed a powerful itching need both to be bred, what with all the yowling, roaring, and screaming coming from Becky and me these past several hours.

Becky sighed and agreed it was time for her to wash all the blood and everything off herself anyway, as the bed and floor looked like a murder scene and herself a murder victim, not just from her own blood, but from my back which she had ripped open a few times to goad me harder in her extremity. Only mama and I of us had ever seen a real murder scene, and that was just as well. I supposed it looked rightly enough of a murder scene to Becky, and I would always prefer she stay ignorant of any other kind.

Within a few days, we had everything worked out, with Becky forced by the other two to cut and keep her nails short and not otherwise leave any cuts, bruises, burns, hickeys, or other semi-permanent or permanent marks. Becky could not at all times adhere to this, though she tried. To say that Becky was wild would be to give the word “wild” entirely too much hyperbole. Every time it was her turn, Becky came at me like a hurricane, and when she was done with me, I was a limp slice of tenderized beef, my man marbles empty husks. But Tracy and mama both became surpassingly good at nursing me back to the land of the living every time and getting their equal measures of satisfaction from me.

The weeks passed swiftly and happily as Tracy and mama continued to build me up to health like a glorious sand castle then Becky came by like a tsunami and washed me all away. Being obliterated by Becky was a religious experience. We goaded each other to more ecstatic feats together, and I wondered how it was possible Becky’s tiny frame could handle that incredible pounding strain and folding bending compression without exploding and melting. The energy of the four of us continued unabated as baby bumps appeared again in my mama and Tracy, and also in Becky.

As their bodies wracked them with desire, I built a great strong bed, and we all took to it, me with one or more of them constantly, pleasuring one with my rod while the other got my tongue. They were so antsy that all decorum broke down in the bed, with, for example, Tracy sucking hard on Becky’s love button while I fucked mama as she fingered Tracy.

Becky especially was shameless, and seemed to love riling up mama or Tracy by cleaning up their stink holes with her tongue, especially right after they’d visited the outhouse, and grinding her tongue deep as possible in them until they begged me to have them there to quell the terrible itch in their backside and quivering in their loins to be had there roughly as possible.

Eventually, all three swelled to enormity and near immobility, and then they popped, one after the other. First Becky popped out a girl child, my daughter/niece Bootsie. Then mama popped, this time producing a girl, Carmela. Finally Tracy popped out a big strong boy, Lemuel. Then came the day that began my eighteenth year. I announced to the other Beaucunts, from dear mama to the tiniest babe, that since I was now a man, it was time for me to seek my fortune in the world. Then I left, and never looked back.

(To be continued)
« Last Edit: December 03, 2020, 04:31:03 AM by Sweetums »

Offline horny guy

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Reply #1 on: December 03, 2020, 02:11:22 PM
Great start.. Seems he has it made there as is. Doubt he'll ever get another scenario like the one he has now.. but.. I suppose we'll see how he makes out in the next chapter.

Offline Sweetums

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Reply #2 on: December 04, 2020, 02:49:28 AM
Chapter Two: Arrival

Ah dear reader, I was to find that my upbringing in the arms of such a beautiful and understanding family was but preparation for my eventual life to come. Until then, my journey West was a restless one, and this was not entirely by choice. It was a pattern that before a handful of months passed in any one town, I would soon be forced by circumstances to depart.

When I arrived at a new town, I would take up a job and find a place to stay quite easily. I couldn’t help but ingratiate myself to the community, being quick to make friends with the menfolk and being complimentary and appropriately flirtatious with the womenfolk. Men, even older men, saw me as a sympathetic and wise ear with regard to getting along better with the women in their lives. Generally, not even a month would go by before a woman, made obvious by her response to my flirtation, would make it clear she wanted to do more than flirt with me.

I would always treat these women with the loving care and respect that they deserved, but at the same time I always made it clear that I was still seeking my fortune, and might up and ride away at any moment. Even though I was clear with all concerned that I was not ready to settle down, first one woman then more and more would come to get a taste of my lovemaking.

Once word got around, many kinds of women would appear. Widows, always. Bored wives were a popular category. I’m certain that many tall redheaded kids with big dicks are dotted all over small towns between Louisiana and Colorado from wives I helped. I would also flirt with and bed unattached girls down to the age of thirteen, but as my momma taught me, girls younger than thirteen were off limits. I preferred the wives, since with the others I had to be careful to pull out and such, and I hate to pull out. Women clearly past childbearing age were also fun. I love older women.

An interesting category I sometimes encountered were respectable mothers who would bring their child daughters to me to be properly deflowered. Once there was one of these, there was often a flood. Mothers, desperate with fear of my departure, would push their daughters that were far to young at me, all rouged up, and offer money besides, but I always refused, and if I had any question as to the professed age, I would ask to see the birth certificate.

One time a magistrate’s wife came to me with her daughter, who looked decidedly on the young side. The wife knew my rules, and since she had proof, insisted for the sake of fairness that I deflower her daughter, even though I could see that the poor girl had no interest in either me or the procreative act.

Badgered repeatedly by this harridan, I had the poor frightened girl on my bed ready to start being undressed when I postponed the proceedings and rode to the county clerk’s office. I’m glad I did, because the official record there established the girl’s age as only eleven years. The certificate produced by the mother had been a forgery. After that, I would not deflower a daughter, even if she appeared to be of a suitable age, if the mother was pushy about it.

Regardless, the wrong bellies would start swelling, or too many bellies would start swelling, or a pattern of bellies leading back to me would start swelling, and to preserve my freedom and in some instances my life, I would have to move on. Sometimes it was heartbreaking. Why can’t people just be easygoing about such things?

That’s how I found myself riding into the town of Thebes in the territory of Colorado one fine spring morning. There appeared to be only one saloon in town. It was of that size. I tethered my horse in front of it and went in for a drink and to inquire about work.

The barkeep was a striking woman in her mid-thirties by the name of Alice P. Lackwanger. She was a fiery redhead with ample breasts and dangerous curves. Her nipples came erect through her simple flowery muslin dress as she smiled at me and we began talking. Since it hadn’t gotten colder, well, I was hoping it meant good things for my future in this town. Over tipples of whisky, we introduced ourselves and each other and quickly became quite flirtatious.

Then I was surprised when a crusty old man appeared at the bannister and began to curse me for talking with his daughter the barkeep. This guy is a problem, I immediately thought. I tried to appease him, buy him a drink, but he would have none of it and got angrier and angrier. He was drunk, and had probably been drinking all night.

One thing led to another, and he pulled out his revolver and shot at me. He was drunk, and missed me. I hit him in the right shoulder, and he dropped his gun. Then he fell over the railing of the bannister and broke his neck on the floor.

The town was in an uproar. The man whose death I contributed to was named Reginald Lackwanger. He was the sheriff and mayor of the town, and by all indications had been a despot the average citizen was happy to be rid of. One indication of this was that the townspeople, including his own daughter, seemed quite forgiving on the subject of his death. She blurted to anyone who would listen that it had been a fair fight between him and me.

The rest of the Lackwanger clan ran down the stairs to join Alice the daughter and barkeep in saying goodbye to their patriarch. There was grandma Josephine, the wife, a stunning woman in her early fifties, who, after spitting on her late husband, turned and hugged me tightly, said “Thank you for saving me,” and ground her nethers against my leg. Josephine was probably a former redhead like Alice still was, but she was of an age that her hair had turned shock white, as many redheads do early. The striking color of the white accentuated Josephine’s beauty even more. Not to be outdone, Alice hugged me as well, gave me a chaste peck with just a little tongue, and said, “Well done.”

Next down the stairs came Alice’s two daughters, Nepenthe, Netty for short, and Chamomille, Cammy for short. They were two stunning girls of around twenty. They both kicked the old corpse to make sure it was dead. I started to feel sorry for the old guy, being so hated by his own family. Last down the stairs was Cutania, Cutie for short, Alice’s youngest, a girl child of twelve years. She was already dressed for the funeral, and kicked the body several times to make sure it was dead.

After that, the undertaker arrived to drag the body away. Josephine paid him to take care of everything. She assured him that a formal funeral, burial, and gravesite would not be necessary, especially being that it would only be something for the townsfolk to deface and kick over.

After this, Josephine and Alice hosted the town council in the saloon. I was invited. Alice lauded my bravery in standing up to the old man, that I had bravely allowed him the first shot, and that even then I hit my mark without any intent to kill. In truth, I was just so surprised that the drunken old fart drew on me so quickly that it took me a moment to regain my wits, and by then, his shot had already missed.

I was unanimously elected the new sheriff and mayor, to be confirmed shortly by a general election in the town. I was dubious about this, but I accepted the role provisionally and told them I would be honored and happy to serve, being that I had somewhat contributed to the problem the town was now facing.

It was called a wake, but it was clear that the Lackwanger girls were in a mood to party. The stairs to the upper floor were roped off. Drinks and dances with the girls were only a penny apiece. I was made to sit at Josephene’s right hand as she held court. It seemed that I shook the hands of many a townsman that night, and kissed the hands and flirted with many a pretty wife. It was clear that the town looked to Josephine to guide them through this time of transition. It was clear she held a position of great respect and trust.

Somewhere in this, I was invited to stay indefinitely at the saloon, and my horse was stabled and fed.

Hours later, when all the townsfolk had been greeted, served, danced with, and so forth, the place was empty excepting for the Lackwanger girls and myself. Cutie was passed out asleep atop another table, having made a pile of pennies dancing with, it seemed, half the townsmen, all old enough to be her father or grandfather even. I had questions about that, but first, I had my most burning question for the Lackwangers. “What on Earth did that old man do that made you, his own kin, loathe him so much?”

“What didn’t he do?” said Netty.

“We could all say many things,” said Josephine, interrupting, “but so not to confuse you, let me tell you just one of the many stories of anguish practically anyone around these parts could tell you.”

“Alice had a husband once, obviously, since she has daughters. She had sons as well. One day, Reggie ordered her husband Bruce to tend to some business back east, and to take his young sons with him for the experience. Bruce, happy to get away, left immediately. Weeks later, we heard that the riverboat they had been traveling on blew up, and Reggie said, matter of fact, he had been the cause of it. The dead bodies were recovered from the river, except that one boy, the one with the birthmark of the Virgin Mary. He was never found.”

Alice continued, “When we asked him why, he said ‘More for me’, dragged me upstairs, and had his way with me. It was that way with him and me from then on.”

“That’s horrible!” I said.

“You know how it has been for us,” Josephine said.

“I don’t need to hear more, at least not right away,” I said. “I’m very sorry.” To try to lighten the mood, I changed the subject. “It’s funny you should mention a birthmark of the Virgin Mary. I myself have a birthmark of Jesus Christ.”

“What a fascinating coincidence,” said Alice. The others looked at each other quizzically and nodded.

Josephine changed the subject again. “I like you, Roger. There’s a problem I’d like your help with.”

“What’s that?”

“The old man’s death left a hole in the town’s structure, a hole you are filling.”

“To the best of my ability, yes.”

“The old man’s death also left a hole in our family’s structure. I think you should fill that as well, if you are willing.”

“What are you asking?” My manhood began to stiffen at the thought that Josephine might have an interest in me sharing her bed. Sure, she was thirty years my senior at least, but she was still stunning, and as I’ve mentioned, I’m a sucker for older women, or women of any age really, to be perfectly honest.

“The town expects a smooth transition,” Josephine continued. “This family is a big part of that. I mean to replace a terrible ruler, my late husband, with clearly a good ruler, yourself.”

“I could try,” I said. “What do you want me to do?”

“It’s not ours to want,” replied Josephine. “We are yours to command, aren’t we girls?” There were nods, murmurs of assent, and speculative glances flying at him from all sides. The sentiment appeared unanimous.

“In that case,” I said, “it’s time for bed. Plenty of time to understand what the heck you mean in the morning.”

“Which of us do you want?”


“Or if you’re tired, we’ll understand.”

“You’re saying in bed?”


“With me?”


“Of any of you?”

“Yes,” they all said in chorus, leaning in, playing with their hair, and otherwise vying for my attention.

Gosh, it was happening again, and so many so fast, a whole family of them. I was overwhelmed. “Well, you’re all extremely beautiful.” If this was what it seemed, the last thing I wanted was to spoil it by playing favorites. I sighed. It would be a long night. The only decision that remained was the order. “Which of Netty and Cammy is the younger?”

“ME!” Cammy jumped up and whooped as the other’s faces fell.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll have Cammy.”

“Yay!” said Cammy. The others looked resigned, but happy for their next-to-youngest.

“Then Netty,” I said.

“What me too? I mean YES!” said Netty.

“Why stop there?” said Alice.

“I don’t intend to. You’ll be next.” Alice clapped her hands excitedly. “And last but not least,” I said, turning to Josephine.

“Now you’re just kidding an old woman,” Josephine said. “We’re serious. We’re not teasing you, Roger. But you can’t possibly be serious that you’ll bed all four of us in a single night, and starting very late, too. And you can’t possibly be serious that a blushing youth like yourself would ever actually seek out a dried up husk like me.”

“I can order you?”

“Of course,” replied Josephine.

“Then I order you to never talk yourself down again, Josephine. You’re beautiful beyond belief.” Josephine was stunned, and the others were smiling, happy, and touched I would be so romantic with Josephine. Josephine went to open her mouth, but then shut it again. “Wait,” I said to her. “You’ll soon know I mean what I say.” With that, I took Cammy’s hand and led her upstairs.

(To be continued)
« Last Edit: December 05, 2020, 05:11:31 AM by Sweetums »

Offline Sweetums

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Reply #3 on: December 05, 2020, 02:39:48 AM
Chapter Three: Introductions

Cammy was a fiery petite redhead as all the Lackwanger girls were redheads. Cammy was dressed in a modest flowery muslin dress much like her mother Alice. Her figure was slimmer, owing to her youth compared to her ma, and she weighed perhaps a hundred pounds. I had been noticing her nipples all evening as, like her ma, they grew erect from time to time and showed up out of her muslin dress most excitingly.

As we walked up the stairs together hand in hand, Cammy asked me, “Do I have to wear a dress anymore? Grandpa always made me wear a dress. You’re my new grandpa.” She stopped talking to snicker at this. “Do I still have to?”

“What do you want to wear?” I asked.

“Something practical,” Cammy replied immediately. “I like to care for the horses and ride them. I do outdoor work.”

“It sounds practical,” I reasoned. “Of course you can wear whatever you’d like.”

“Oh thank you for your kindness in letting me dress practical!”

 “Do you still want to be pretty? Because that would be hard to change, you are so pretty.”

“I still want to be a woman,” she replied, “just a practical one. Because of your kindness, I’ll dress any way you’d like when I come to you, you know, like we’re doing now. What do you like best?”

A that point, we had reached Cammy’s room and shut the door. “I’ll show you,” I said, slowly sliding her dress down her slender frame and kissing every exposed inch, pausing for a long time at her breasts and nipples. By the time I reached her woman’s place, she was shaking with excitement as I slid her panties down with her dress and kissed her mound, promising solemnly to come back to it once I had undressed her fully and could spread her for full access. At the bottom, I even kissed her feet as I removed her slippers.

Tears hit the floor next to me. “Nobody’s ever loved me like this. Nobody. I feel so special now.”

I stood up and gestured to her nude figure and said, “This is the way I like best.”

“Then this is the way I’ll always come to you, and I don’t care who sees.” We kissed, and at the same time, she was desirous of removing my clothes. As she undressed me, she saw and felt my muscular body, and it seemed she very much liked what she saw and felt. As she undressed me, we kissed, and as our kisses continued, sometimes the kissing would get in the way of the clothes removing or vice versa, and we would have a laugh. During one such laugh she pulled my pants down and stopped laughing as she saw my member.

“Never fear,” I said, “he doesn’t bite. We can go as slow as you need. It always seems to fit.”

“I want it to fit, because I already like you so much,” she confessed, but in a worried tone. Obviously, I was the largest she’d been with.

“Never fear,” I calmed her. “I’m sure we can make it work.”

She got on her knees. “Let me see if I can,” she enthused. She was a sporty girl.

I smiled, because I really needed my edge taken off before I laid with her. “I haven’t had a woman in days, and my balls are full to bursting, if you don’t mind.”

“I can remedy you,” she smiled, and neatly slid it all the way down her throat in a single maneuver. This pleased me greatly, but reminded me of the question that had crossed my mind several times since my arrival and the old man’s unexpected demise, but I’d not had the stomach to ask. Had their grandpappy whored out his own granddaughters in addition to knowing them incestuously?

My mind was roughly diverted from my latest concern back to my loins, which were thrilling to the slick wetness of Cammy’s mouth and roiling tongue. As she looked up into my eyes with a kind of victorious look, I howled and unloaded my heavy burden of male juice straight down her throat. In the stillness, there were snickers outside the door. They knew how quickly Cammy had just provided oral satisfaction to me. “Shush! He was needful!” Cammy yelled out to them, then softer to me, “Don’t mind them. They’re just curious.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “A lot is riding on my ability to ably serve this family. They have every right to be greatly concerned.” By then, I’d laid Cammy down on the bed and spread her. She opened her arms in expectation of me covering her straightaway, but I had other plans. I nuzzled my nose, lips, and tongue between her legs and took a good look, sniff, and taste of her.

Her bright red bush was short, so either she trimmed it or rode and otherwise wore it away a lot, probably a bit of both. She had delicate prominent lips like the petals of a flower, an attribute I hoped all the Lackwanger girls shared, since I had already enjoyed in precious few other women the glorious stroking and grasping such lips made on my member during the act. My weapon grew a further degree more urgent at the sight of this. Her smell was healthy, and hay, with a touch of good juicy beefsteak, and perhaps a bit of fear.

“Relax, everything will be good,” I assured her, and began to gamahuche her tenderly, starting with a gentle wet soft tongue exploration of her marvelous lips, yanking them gently and playfully with my own lips to jiggle her love button seductively, sucking them and rolling around with my tongue. Then, spreading them with my wide tongue so they left her entire vulva open for attack, I tickled and twizzled my tongue, slowly, quickly, gently, firmly, staying mostly in the environs of her urethra and clit, finding the territories and techniques that caused her to thrill and honing in on them.

Cammy seemed to like a wet pressing tongue on a wide area, still slipping around, but bumping and galloping. It was understandable for a girl who loved horseback riding so much. She thrilled to orgasm after orgasm this way, riding the stallion of my tongue, perhaps dreaming of her stallion in the barn and how, in a different life as a mare, he might take her. Her continuing shouts and cries of excitement were causing a buzz out in the hallway, by the sound of it. Finally, she pleaded, “Please, please, fill me!”

I got on my back and had her mount facing me, our hands entwined, so I could hold her steady as she lowered herself at whatever pace she chose. As she lowered and as she rocked gently back and forth, up and down, she obviously felt the pleasure of it, and quite unconsciously, her beautiful face would twitch. She would lick her lips slightly, gasp, wiggle her nose, or one side of her lip or an eyebrow would twitch. I could feel the sexual tension in the movements as the energy built for her first crisis on me. Then she orgasmed with a loud groan as her hips rocked in big waves. This was followed by a “HUH!” as her legs collapsed and she slid the extra inch all the way down to my hilt.

“Are you okay?” I asked with concern.

“Am I all the way down?” she asked skeptically.


“Now I know how the smaller mares must feel when my stallion Ranger breeds them,” she mused.

“And that is how?”

“Oh-so-full. Not quite pain. I feel pleasure as you press everywhere in me that can be pressed. I have a feeling of stillness, of great calm surrender. I don’t want to move like this. How about you?”

“Your tightness and liveliness are exquisite. I’m afraid that although you just took care of me a short while ago, I may not last much longer.”

“Can you move me and take charge of me? I feel faint and want to be still and receive you very much.”

“All right,” I said as I turned us over onto her back and then squatted over her and turned her onto her side. This gave me more control of the depth and intensity and allowed me to observe her better and see what best gave her pleasure. Then I began slowly to move in her in earnest. Her face twitched as before. Her legs tensed. Her toes curled. Then she spilled over into orgasm again with a deep groan, her hips rocking again in big waves as she did. Whispers outside the door as I continued to move in her.

Another louder groan, and hips rocking more forcefully. I held her and rode her. She would not buck me off. The twitches accumulated again, until she was almost having a fit of some kind. Then she howled and thrashed more violently than ever, me riding and pressing faster and faster, since I was reaching near my end. There were loud murmurs and buzzing of conversation among several women outside the door. I couldn’t make it out though.

I was at my limit, and pulled out. Immediately, she cried out as if hurt and peed a bit. I splashed maybe more white than I think I’d ever made before all over Cammy and her bed. The first several shots got in her hair, her ear, running down her face, on her pillow, on her shoulder, her tits, and dribbles and sprays everywhere else in between. I had not had a crisis in days but for the one down her throat, and it had barely taken the edge off, especially given what an exciting woman Cammy was to lie with, to love with, to talk with, gosh, to do anything with.

When I came to my senses, I noticed she was crying softly. “I’m sorry to make such a mess.”

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “When you left, I’ve never felt such an ache. I’m angry that I hurt for it, because I know it’s wrong and you did the right thing, you didn’t know better. My emotions are such children! Next time though, so you know, us Lackwanger women have ways both to quicken and still our wombs, and never have to bear a child we don’t want. Please, please, next time, complete me and fill me with your seed. Hmm. Too late.”

I thrust into her again as her eyes widened. Our juices started to twirl off portions of her body onto the bed. Her lip ticked once, and then she howled louder than ever and her hips undulated like she was an underwater creature swimming for her life. She must have been very close when I pulled out.

This time when I had Cammy, I lasted a good long time, and I lost count of her groans, howls, and undulations. We were both very sweaty by the end of it. She especially was covered with sweat and semen, as I had ridden her hard. She moaned in deep satisfaction and held deadly still as I pumped my juices into her this time. It overflowed her easily. I felt so happy to see the indelible satisfaction on her face.

I emerged from Cammy’s bedroom wild-eyed, naked, and covered in sweat and my own emissions as well as Cammy’s. Netty and the rest were there. “Look, it’s him!” cried Alice.

“You must be mistaken,” scoffed Josephine.

Netty took in my muscular body and erect cock, staggered, and grabbed the bannister. “Sounds like you practically killed each other in there,” she ventured, not being able to divert her eyes from my cock. Grandma and mama raced in to check Cammy’s pulse and make sure she was still in one piece. They clucked as they ran.

Netty was wearing a beautiful silk dress with unique colorful panels sewn into it. It was beautiful, and she must have made it. “Let’s take good care of this dress,” I said, as I reached under it to check Netty’s nethers. Clearly the women had worked themselves up to a high pitch listening in, as Netty was dripping and her legs were shaking. She thrust her hips forward helplessly when I started feeling her love box.

Given her neediness and my readiness, and given we had a moment since the other women were in Cammy’s room checking on her, I bent Netty over the railing, lifted the back of her dress up over her head, and tore off her delicate sopping wet lace panties with a single quick wet downward yank. Netty had bred true to Cammy, her nether lips protruding and literally dripping with excitement. I couldn’t help myself, so I knelt and smelled and tasted her excitement. Netty had a clean healthy scent. I ran my tongue up and down her hole that tasted of ginger and maybe breadfruit.

Then I stood up and thrust into her. Knowing Cammy already, I knew older sis could take it and would probably enjoy the surprise. I rocked into a splashy wet Netty in ten quick rocking strokes that caused Netty to moan loud and shake, her sound filling the empty dance hall below us. I then started a crisp gallop, as my cock and my grip on her loins signaled me that she was in great need of release. I wanted to see her face, but she was turned around so she could receive me standing and additionally her dress was in the way.

“Look, he’s already having Netty!” Alice called out from behind him, astonished. Netty moaned loudly again and shook even harder. “Look at him go,” muttered Alice.

“That muscular rump,” Josephine whimpered. I could almost imagine how the two older ladies were witnessing this and licking their chops. Well, I planned to collect on their lubricious excitement this very night as well, in full.

I continued to pound Netty relentlessly from behind, and she moaned loudly again, filling the dance hall with sound, and shook like a rabbit in the snapping jaws of a wolf. I held her hips still to me as her legs thrashed and continued pounding her against the creaking railing.

Sweat was pouring off me as I neared my next finish line. I groaned in satisfaction as I tipped over the edge and stiffened at the end of my stroke, filling Netty with pulse after pulse of baby cream in tandem with the pulsing blood pounding throughout my body. Her love box thrilled and fluttered as she felt it, and she gurgled with deep satisfaction. “I’m not sure our potions are strong enough to counteract that,” Alice muttered to Josephne. Josephine spanked my ass experimentally and stroked it.

“You done, Nickers?” Alice asked.

“No, mama,” answered Netty muffled from under a tower of petticoats up around her. “If Cay got him twice then I get it, too.”

“Don’t be greedy, child,” scolded Josephine. “If you drain our young Adonis, your mother and I will have to wait until he rests at least, and I have trouble sleeping as it is.”

With help from Alice and Josephine, I was able to extract Netty from her dress. She stood there naked in sandals, taller and leaner than Cammy with smaller breasts. Her red muff was a wild little nest. It was only a few steps to Netty’s room and a few more to her bed. I didn’t shut the door since they had already seen everything anyway.

Since I already took Netty from behind I resolved to take her in the Christian way this time, which was my favorite anyway. I laid her on her back, spread her, speared straight down into her wet womanhood, and began a nice slow leisurely feel with my cock of all the extent of her tight insides, grinding and taking my full pleasure with every thrust into her. She helped by spreading wider and was soon moaning with every down stroke. Before long, her eyeballs rolled up and her eyelids fluttered and closed as she moaned out another hard orgasm from her pinned position. I could feel her body quiver deliciously under me, held immobile by my strong arms and firm strokes.

All three of these women had been so worked up from listening in on Cammy’s first encounter with me and were so full up with shaking urgency that no foreplay was really needed for any of them this time, though I resolved to at least have a sniff and taste of each for my own sake. It was all in the mind for a woman, so if she is ready, she is ready, and it was generally only a frustration to her in that hallowed state if you beat around the bush, so to speak. As I considered this, Netty howled and thrashed under me with a really good one, and then went back to her whimpering moans.

Netty’s eyes were fluttering again, her body quivering under me in near continuous orgasm at this point. What she had creamed so hard for listening through the door was now being fulfilled and then some, and her soul vibrated on some plane of deep satisfaction and pleasure as a result. I’d often wished, as a man, that I could have the romantic urgency of a woman to propel my pleasure. Instead, at least for myself, not able to speak for all men, my lust is so structural. The smell of her wet, the softness of her breast, how she sighs. Netty gritted her teeth and caught her breath and her whole face and upper body flushed deeply, then she let it out with a squeal, and resumed her moans.

I was at my limit, so with deep satisfaction, I rammed down into Netty fully, howled, and released my batch. My howl continued as my batch continued to flow. Netty’s magical fluttering love tube kept coaxing me past any boundary I had ever known. When I was fully extinguished, I collapsed onto her with a groan, pushing out the rest of her meager air supply she surrendered with a surprised squeak.

Alice and Josephine dragged me off Netty, baby juice spattering everywhere. Netty started breathing again, but otherwise seemed limp and fully merged with her mattress. As I staggered onto my feet, they dragged me out of Netty’s room down the hall to Alice’s.

Once there, Alice threw off her flowery dress, and I could see her essence slick down her thighs. Her red muff was trimmed very neatly. I pushed her onto her bed, and before I mounted her, I had a quick smell and taste. It was musky, lemony chicken. I speared her with my again ram-hard cock, and began pounding with great satisfaction. She looked into my eyes at first, but then her eyes rolled up and her eyelids fluttered shut much like Netty’s. Her mouth and eyebrows twitched and jerked like Cammy’s as she stored up energy for her crisis.

Alice’s nice big mommy breasts danced in time to my thrusts, and much to my excitement, her nipples leaked a little milk. Her nether lips were true to her daughters’, and they stroked, sucked at, and basted my member deliciously with wet as I pounded her. God help me, I was already having problems lasting even after all my recent spills into her daughters, because Alice was nearly as tight as her daughters, and juicier. Josephine called to her hopefully from somewhere behind my back, “So you think once will be enough?”

“Oh-oh-oh-oh-my-iy-iy-iy-Gaw-aw-aw-awd!” replied Alice noncommittally. Then her legs shot out as she shrieked like she was being killed. After several pants, she cried, “I did Neh-neh-nehver-have-a-GAWD! OH GAWD!” She made another shriek, a little softer, like she had not quite died before, but now she was all the rest of the way dead. Puff. Puff. Alice was insensible as I continued to take my pleasure on her. By the time the three other Lackwanger girls had assembled to watch, I made my delighted final thrust in Alice, and all three watched in fascination as my thick dick pulsed and bucked as all my potent semen filled Alice to bursting and overflowing. Alice had passed out, but a few pats on the cheek revived her.

“Mommy!” Alice cried suddenly as she came to her senses, “He fills me exactly like Bruce did, I remember it. He can’t but be long lost Billy.”

“Honey, you’re touched in the head,” Josephine replied. “I know you miss your darling dead husband and sons and will never be over their parting, but you must come to terms with that they’ve passed on to a better life.”

“No, mama!” Alice fought. “A mother knows!”

“Alice,” Josephine clucked. “If you still feel the same about it in a week, maybe I’ll start listening. In the meantime, give him over. You’ve had him enough.”

“All right, it’s late,” Alice relented.

I pulled out, splashing Alice and her bed with our essences. Josephine caught my manhood in a towel, shooed out Cammy and Netty in front of her, led me out of Alice’s room, and shut the door behind us. “Go to sleep, girls, go to sleep,” she told Cammy and Netty as she led me into her room and shut the door.

“Forgive me, I’m a little afraid,” said Josephine, “I haven’t been touched by a man in twenty years, not since my late husband Reginald killed Alice’s husband, my son-in-law Bruce and the boys. After that he slept in Alice’s bed and took her as he pleased, leaving me alone. I’ve never been touched by a kind man, since Reginald took me when I was a foolish virgin and never let go of me.”

I leaned down and kissed her gently, romantically. She needed a nice man to treat her exactly how she wanted it tonight, and every night to come. She was the most beautiful woman ever in that moment. I was already naked, and she had been exploring my muscular arms, back, chest, and abdomen with shaking hands as we kissed. My member poked her in the tummy and startled her. She opened her mouth, as if to say something foolish like how could I be aroused by her, but then she remembered I ordered her not to say bad things about herself and shut it.

As I continued to kiss her, I slowly undressed her, kissing every inch I exposed as I had Cammy. Josephine was wound up to a high pitch of excitement listening to and watching my work on the others, and this was obvious in her shaking and her wetness. When I pulled down her panties to sniff her a little, she smelled and tasted like fresh fish and a little acidic. I like the taste of fish. I kissed her furry bush, which was auburn colored, kissed with white. I kissed down her legs. I kissed her feet with reverence. She teared up like her granddaughter, was touched by it, but wiped her tears quickly. She was a woman used to guarding her emotion very close.

After undressing her, I carried her gently to her bed and started with my tongue and lips between her legs. “I-I n-never-“ she cried at first, but then moaned and moaned, her hips rocking gently and continuously as I worked. She was beside herself with excitement, climaxing, as far as I could make out, pretty much continuously as I gave her my best. She had large inner lips like her progeny, and I twirled and sucked on them romantically as I gave her the sexual kiss with all the learning I’d just acquired on the workings of her kin.

As I worked further, she quieted and stilled suddenly, and I came up for air to check on her. She revived, having only fainted a moment. I breathed a sigh of relief, because I feared I had killed her. In my travels, sad to say, a woman younger than Josephine had died on me in bed when her heart gave out on her. I slipped away that night but attended the funeral, where everyone remarked on how happy she looked.

As I approached Josephine, she trembled. “I’m afraid I’ll like you to kill me,” she said. I’m not sure what she meant, but I stirred the head of my member slick between her wet paintbrush lips and slid gently and lovingly into her. “Uh,” she said, then “Uh!” again, as I went futher. She relaxed and opened to me as her body learned not to fear me, and that I would not plunge into her and hurt her.

Slowly, I worked more and more of myself back and forth in her, and began to shudder with the effort of holding back in her, since I wanted at least to give her all of me before I creamed her. Darn it if she wasn’t, amazingly to me, a notch tighter than all her progeny. I tried to remember whether I’d ever had a mother that had been tighter than her daughter. Certainly, I had never had a grandmother that had been tighter than both of her granddaughters. She was having her peaks, whimpering and rocking, so she was having all the pleasure she could take even at my careful pace.

The moment I felt my hips touch Josephine’s, I moaned and released squirt after pressurized squirt of baby cream deep into her. She began to moan in harmony with me and shuddered and twitched with each squirt. Finally, I was done. I held myself off her, for I feared I had already hurt her with my increasingly needy pushing. “Are you well?” I asked.

Josephine was still shuddering, distracted, her eyes closed. “Yes hot, so hot inside me,” she muttered. “Feels so good. I want to cry because your hot living seed will not plant in me. I’m greatly warmed by it, though. Did you enjoy me, enjoy being in my loins?”

“Very much,” I breathed.

“I hope you’re not just being kind,” Josephine said.

“Please, no, I mean it!”

And with that, we both fell to a deep sleep, entwined in each other’s arms.

(To be continued)
« Last Edit: December 05, 2020, 01:31:42 PM by Sweetums »