The Familiar Tone.
CHAPTER 2 (part 2).
DI turned back to the parcel, parked the Land-Rover in its place, entered the house and stored the wine bottle in the pantry behind some jars of preserves. I found Grandma in the living room, ironing while moving her lips following the lyrics of a Rocio Jurado song playing on the radio. I was more into rock than copla, but it didn't occur to me to mock her musical tastes, something that maybe would have done a week earlier.
She wore her housecoat, light and printed with large flowers. I wondered what she would be wearing underneath. I had never seen her take it off, as she always did in her bedroom or bathroom, and always had the belt so well tied that it was impossible to glimpse anything above her knees. Yet the simple eroticism emanating from her rounded curves was enough to ignite the boilers of my locomotive. I assumed she would be wearing only lingerie, which was already quite daring for a woman like her.
When I saw her approaching me, she smiled and the iron released a loud jet of steam. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her towards me to give her a kiss on the cheek. She received the gesture without a hint of suspicion, with the satisfaction of any grandmother who enjoys displays of affection from her grandson. Her attitude encouraged me to leave my hand on her shoulder for a while, which didn't bother her either. The smell of freshly ironed clothes and her body formed a mixture so pleasant that my good mood grew as much as my cock did in my pants.
I've missed you - I said, in a tone sufficiently mocking not to be cloying enough.
Ay, but what a fool you are —she said, and I swear that when she lowered her gaze to continue ironing the usual flush on her cheeks was a little more intense—. How's it going in town?
I made a detailed account of my walk, including all the acquaintances I had crossed paths with. She was listening to me as if I were recounting an exciting expedition through the Amazonian jungle. Of course, I didn't tell her anything about what happened between Monchito and Sandra thanks to the miraculous tonic, although I couldn't resist asking:
Who is the girl who works at the kiosk? I hadn't seen her before.
—Her name is Sandra. She's the wife of Manolo, son of Don Jacinto. They got married a few months ago and he gave her a job at the butcher shop.
So I was married to the very slut. I saved the information in case the opportunity arose to use it later. Judging by the tone in which she spoke of her, I could infer that she didn't like Sandra. My grandmother always resisted speaking ill of people, but if you pulled on her tongue a bit, she would reveal a subtle malice that contrasted with her sweet character.
It seems you don't get along well — I said, wanting to see that side of hers.
See here, I'm not saying she's a bad girl... But to run a business you need a bit of people skills, don't you think?
Yes. She looks a bit worn out.
—But well, he'll learn with time, I say. Mr. Jacinto isn't stupid and will know what to do. Anyway, I've only been going to the shop since Grandfather died.
My grandfather was a die-hard smoker, the main reason he died at the early age of 64, and the cause of my grandmother not liking to see me smoke. In fact, some of my first cigarettes I stole from him while he was taking a nap, and if he ever found out, he never told my parents. The old man was good people and I missed him, but I didn't feel guilty at all for wanting to put a whole pound of ham in his widow's bar.
The iron hissed again, the Jurado sang another heartfelt ditty and I decided it was time to put my plan in motion.
Hey, grandma. I'm going to cook dinner tonight —I announced.
He looked at me over the glasses with his eyebrows very raised. It surprised him so much that he put down the iron and dedicated a smile to me that was both tender and saucy.
Really? But you know how to cook, good-for-nothing?
I know how to do something. You always cook and you deserve someone to put the plate in front of you sometimes, don't you think?
Ah, you're a sun, Carlitos. By right, you cook tonight. Let's see what you do to me! —she exclaimed in a pretended threatening tone.
If you only knew what I'd like to do to you..., I thought. When she focused on the iron again, I gave her a discreet glance at her curvy figure. I was going to tell her that dinner was also about making up for yesterday's incident, but she seemed very happy and I didn't want to bring it up. She was smart enough to figure out that I was doing it for that reason too.
The rest of the afternoon seemed eternal to me, waiting for dinner time to arrive. I worked in the storage room while my grandmother did the laundry and other household chores. When the sun began setting, I took a shower, and of course, I enjoyed it reminiscing about the scene in the backroom of the tobacconist's shop. After that, I started preparing dinner: a simple salad and some chicken breasts I found in the fridge. I risked making a not very complicated sauce that I remembered from a morning program and it didn't turn out badly at all. I put a clean tablecloth on the table and decorated it with a small flower vase. I thought about looking for candles, but it seemed too much to me.
While cooking it was she who showered, and I took advantage to carry out the first phase of my experiment. I went to my bedroom for the tonic, returned to the kitchen and uncorked the bottle of wine that I had bought from the adulterous vendor. I drank a shot, filled in what was missing with a splash of the brew and put the cork back on. I rinsed my mouth with lemonade so I wouldn't smell like morapio and hid the tonic again in my suitcase. A bit nervous, I lit a cigar and waited.
When my guest arrived, she brought a pleasant surprise with her. She wasn't wearing her bathrobe or one of her worn-out farmhand dresses. She had on a short-sleeved blouse in very light green, which I'd already seen her wear before. The fabric was so fine and fitted her ample breasts so well that the bra's seams were visible without being transparent. A white and pink tablecloth-style skirt hugged her wide hips and fell with grace almost to her ankles. It wasn't overly done; she was wearing what she usually put on to run errands in town, but I thought it was a nice touch on her part.
—Ah! But look how beautiful you've set the table! —he exclaimed upon seeing the flowers.
I separated the chair from the table so she could sit down, and my old-fashioned gentlemanly gesture made her giggle. Although he always treated her well, Grandfather was a man of his time, and his sons were cut from the same cloth, so the poor woman wasn't used to gestures like making her dinner or helping with household chores. It's not that I was a feminist ally as they say now, but at least I could pretend to be if I set my mind to it.
You're very beautiful, I said, and that wasn't an act.
Come on, but I haven't even brushed my hair yet.
Her red hair was perfectly arranged around her head, much shinier than in the afternoon, and I had heard her hair dryer when she was in the bathroom. The flirtatious lie made me smile as I walked to the cupboard.
Look, I brought you something from the village.
I taught him the bottle, holding it so he wouldn't notice I had already uncorked it.
But Carlitos... What's the point of all this trouble?
It's nothing.
I gave him the back to simulate that he was uncorking wine on the counter. My grandmother wasn't a big drinker. She liked taking a glass of wine while cooking and, on special occasions (like that one) another during lunch. I filled her glass halfway and prayed to God Bacchus not to notice that the bottle had an extra ingredient.
Didn't you want? —he asked.
I don't like wine.
—Ah, it's true. Well, let's drink a beer, man, I don't like drinking alone.
Of course I obeyed and opened a bottle of blonde beer really cold. I watched her while she took a small sip of wine and savored it. She opened her eyes like plates, surprised, and for a moment I feared the worst.
Mmmm! How good it is!
Really? I asked, with my pulse racing.
Really, heaven —he replied. He took another brief sip and savored it again—. It has like a... Mmm... A very sweet hint. I love it.
Relieved, I left the bottle on the table. I wondered if that sweet touch was due to the tonic or the wine already had that flavor. What mattered was that she liked it and hadn't noticed anything strange. I served dinner, we started eating, and of course, she raved about my culinary skills. We chatted about this and that, laughed a few times, and soon I realized I was having the best date ever with a woman. It may sound depressing, but I was enjoying myself so much I didn't let it ruin the night. Plus, there was my plan. The risky experiment in which she unknowingly participated.
When the cup was finished, I was surprised to see her grab the bottle and serve herself another one, not as loaded as the previous one. I took my drinking calmly and only drank one beer. I wanted to be as lucid as possible that night.
Ugh... I'm getting carried away with the wine... But it's just so good... —she said. There were no signs of intoxication in her voice, but her cheeks were already starting to flush.
Ah, one day is just another day —she encouraged me.
We finished the second cup with the last bite of dinner and he exaggerated again how good everything was and gave me thanks multiple times, without sparing affectionate and loud kisses on the forehead and cheeks, attentions that I enjoyed much more than she thought. He made a move to clear the table but I took the plates away from his hands.
I'll take care of it. You sit down and rest.
That's nothing.
I took the plate away from her hand again, positioned myself behind her and grabbed her by the shoulders. With firmness but without brusqueness, I pushed her into the living room. Amidst complaints and laughter, I forced her to sit on the couch, and as she fell onto the seat, her breasts trembled like two delicious ice creams of familiar size.
But Carlitos... Don't be stupid... Oh no! Ha ha!
I turned on the fan and gave the remote control of the TV to him, perhaps the most advanced technology showcase in that house.
Look and see what they put. I'll be back soon.
In just ten minutes I washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. I stored the adulterated wine in the pantry and returned to the living room. She was reclining on the sofa, with her elbow resting on the armrest and her legs folded over the seat. The long skirt had risen up, either due to the heat or because she had raised it herself, revealing her plump shins. Her face was resting in one hand and she smiled at me when I sat down beside her, close enough for her feet almost to brush against my thigh.
I barely paid attention to the movie they were showing that night. I was looking at her with feigned interest every few seconds and positioned my legs so that my erection wouldn't be visible from her point of view. There wasn't more light in the living room than the TV's, and only with the help of the blue glow of the screen could I see that her apple cheeks were redder than normal, her green eyes had a slight sparkle, and her deep breathing wasn't as calm as it should be for someone who was peacefully reclining on the sofa. Mid-movie, she snorted, pulled her shirt up over her chest to cool off, and unbuttoned the first button. She brought her fingers to the second but must have realized she wasn't alone and stopped.
Ugh, what a stifling heat is making tonight, right? -He complained.
I'm telling you already. Do you want me to turn up the fan?
No, son, leave it like that.
He continued watching the movie and I contained a smile while observing what seemed like the first symptoms of the tonic circulating through his beautiful body. Now it was just a matter of waiting and improvising depending on how the experiment went. As soon as the movie ended, my grandmother got up, put her toes on the floor, and stretched her arms backwards. Her tits pressed so hard against the shirt that miraculously no button popped off into the air. She gave me one of her tender smiles and patted my thigh.
I'm going to bed, heaven, I'm exhausted. Thanks again for dinner and wine.
She didn't look like she was tired at all, and I would swear she had a hurry to get away to her room. In normal circumstances I would have given her a strong goodnight kiss on the cheek and not those ridiculous slaps. I stretched out and spoke in a sleepy voice, as if holding back a yawn.
I'm going to bed too. See you tomorrow, grandma.
Not even he replied to me. He got up from the living room and shortly after I heard his bedroom door close. Already in my room, I tried to calm down by smoking a cigarette. If I was lucky, the night hadn't started yet. I undressed completely and put on a loose pajama pant, with which my arousal was more than evident.
I sat on the bed, wondering how long it was prudent to wait. I had lost control several hours after taking the tonic, although the fever had started much earlier. In Monchito, I had taken much less time, but considering his limited brain maybe that wasn't a relevant fact. My grandmother had taken less quantity than both of us, and mixed with wine. It could be that the mixture had mitigated the effects of the tonic, or that it didn't affect women in the same way.
Tired of pacing, I left the silent corridor at the 15-minute mark and tiptoed to the other end. I stopped in front of her bedroom door and noticed that a faint, yellowish light was seeping through from underneath. It was the small nightstand lamp, which she rarely turned on so mosquitoes wouldn't enter through the window. The fact that she was awake was a good sign.
I plugged my ear to the door and waited. I only heard some faint squeaking of the mattress springs, which is normal when someone lying in a bed changes position. After a long while, when my neck was already hurting, I heard it. A moan, sharp and soft. Then a long sigh, followed by several more moans, separated in time but constant. They were touching, no doubt about it. The experiment had been a success, and now it depended on me to take advantage of the result, which might not be as easy as it seemed. Despite the intense effects of the tonic, perhaps the prejudices and taboos wouldn't be overcome, stronger in her since she was very religious. That she had opted to touch herself instead of coming to my room when getting horny already indicated that having sex with her 19-year-old grandson wasn't one of her fantasies, and if it was, she had repressed the impulse to use my always ready cock instead of her hand.
While I was wondering what my next step would be, the mattress creaked louder than before and I perceived a shadow in the light under the door. It had gotten up from bed and I could hear its bare feet walking towards the door. Was my breathing that strong that it had heard me through the thick wood of the door? Had it already run out to go to the bathroom to cool off? Did it have thirst? Had the heat won over the taboo and was it coming to find me?
I didn't know, so I held my breath and slipped into the nearest bedroom. It was another double bed room where my parents or uncles would sleep when they came to visit. It was so dark that even if I looked in, I wouldn't see myself. Crouched next to a closet, I saw her pass by and head towards the kitchen from the hallway. I was dying to take a peek. I thought I was sleeping and it was possible she had gotten up naked to get water or snack something.
Silent as a ghost, I stepped out into the hallway and peeked into the kitchen. She was standing up, bathed in the light of the open refrigerator facing her, taking sips from a glass of water. She wasn't naked but didn't disappoint my expectations either. She wore a short camisole with ties, very similar to the one I had seen her wear on the night I caught her sleeping, only this time it was white and transparent. I lost my breath when I saw she wasn't wearing underwear. The wide curves of her hips, the tight slit between her buttocks and the fold where they joined her thighs stood out clearly under the light fabric. Of course, she didn't wear a bra either. The camisole left most of her Rubenesque back visible, and when she bent to open the vegetable drawer I could see part of one of her breasts, as white as snow under that strange light.
What she did next surprised me so much that almost an impromptu Don't mess with me! slipped out. The suffocated widow had in her hand one of the carrots she cultivated in her garden; a particularly long and thick one. Its length would be around 20 cm, and the thickest part didn't have anything to envy about the glans that was pressing against my pajamas. She looked at the vegetable with an expert eye, stroked it twice from top to bottom wrapping her hand around it, and satisfied with the examination, went to the sink and removed the stems with a knife. She scraped the thick end until it was smooth and washed it thoroughly, rubbing it from top to bottom. Yes friends, my dear grandma had just made herself a 100% vegan dildo.
When she closed the fridge and turned around to leave the kitchen, I made a quick and reckless decision. I couldn't let such a woman have pleasure with an inert vegetable when I had a ration of well-seasoned meat.Not on my watch!So I snuck into her bedroom and waited sitting on the bed, trying to simulate that being there was the most normal thing in the world. The spotless white sheets still retained the warmth of her body, the window was closed and the curtains drawn, despite the heat. Her glasses were on the nightstand, her underwear perfectly arranged on a chair and the floral robe hanging from a hook near the door.
Zanahoria entered with her hand and gave a start when she saw me, taking one hand to her chest. Upon seeing her face-to-face, I confirmed that her nipples were also visible under the camisole, much more revealing than I expected, with intricate lace and a small pink bow on her chest.
Hey Carlitos! Son... What a scare you've given me —she said.
Her voice was trembling and turned even redder than it already was. She closed the door behind her but didn't move from the spot. When she noticed I was looking at the carrot, she was about to hide it behind her back, but it was too late for that, and she took a decision on the march that almost made me burst out laughing: she took the narrow tip of the vegetable into her mouth and gave it a good bite.
—I... I got a little hungry —she said, chewing like a huge and sensual rabbit—. What are you doing here, Carlitos? Do you feel sick?
I'm fine. I couldn't sleep and since I saw you had the light on it occurred to me that we could chat for a bit... If you feel like it. - Tapped the palm of my hand on the bed next to me with a gentle knocking sound.
—Ah... Of course yes, heaven...The truth is that it's also costing me to catch sleep. Eh... Wait a second.
He took a step towards the closet and extended his hand towards his robe. In no way was he going to let her put it on.
What are you doing? Are you going to wear that with the heat we're having?
But son... I'm almost naked.
Come on, don't exaggerate. Besides, we're in family, right?
Not entirely convinced, she sat next to me in bed, with her knees together and her hands on her thighs. I got as close as I could and placed one hand on the bed behind her, so my head was very close to her shoulder. I had an excellent view of her tempting cleavage. I couldn't help but be surprised by how big her tits were. She avoided looking at me and gave anxious bites to the carrot.
What a nice nightgown —I said, to justify my long gazes at her body.
—Ah, it's an old rag. It has many years and has become too small for me.
What are you saying? You look like a glove on you. You're really hot.
Come on, come on... Don't be so sly, silly.
While talking to her, I was caressing her back. I started at the shoulder and went down slowly, not quite reaching the limits of decorum. She tried to appear calm, but her breathing accelerated at times, as evidenced by the hypnotic movement of her breasts. Each new piece of carrot that entered her pink lips chewed it faster and swallowed it with more difficulty.
Hey, grandma... You and I are friends, right? I mean, we have confidence.
—Yes... Of course yes, heaven —answered, a bit confused.
Can I ask you a slightly personal question?
—Well... Sure, ask what you want.
You'll see... I was wondering if... have you been with any man since Grandfather died?
This time he did look at my eyes, with his very open and bright ones, almost feverish. He turned a bit and his right tit brushed lightly against my bare torso.
Hey Carlitos! What's that question?
Lowered her voice a bit, as if she feared someone might be able to hear us there, locked in a room in a house kilometers from civilization, but she wasn't as scandalized as she pretended to appear. In fact, I'd swear she was trying to hide a smile.
Come on, tell me. Listen, I haven't been with a girl since more than six months ago.
Really? You're so handsome! The girlfriends should come out in pairs for you —he said, letting his more grandfatherly side emerge.
Come on, now it's your turn -- I insisted.
He let out a long sigh and avoided looking at me again. One of my hands was on his waist and the other I placed discreetly on his thigh, near the knee. My side pressed against his and I couldn't help but give him a kiss on his freckled shoulder.
Of course not, son... I haven't been with anyone since my husband passed away —he confessed at last, and I had no doubt that he was telling the truth.
That explained why the tonic's effects had taken her so quickly, not just to touch herself but to seek a phallic substitute to introduce into her body. She had been two years without seeing a man. More than that, since Grandfather had been very ill for several months before handing over the spoon. That was a lot of time for a young and vital woman.
I'm sure you won't lack suitors.
I risked a second kiss, this time between the shoulder and neck. My hand caressed his thigh until mid-thigh and returned to the knee. His skin drove me crazy, so soft that silk beside it seemed like sandpaper and so hot that for a moment I feared he had a fever. His breathing caught when he felt my lips but didn't complain or move away. Each time it cost him more to articulate sentences and he squeezed the carrot in his hand with force.
Ugh, four old guys from the village... Old greens... That's why I don't like going down to the village alone. They stare at me... If you saw how they stare at me... Even in church, you know?... They stare at me...
I brought my hand to her nape and caressed the red-blond locks that covered it. My lips wandered between the shoulder and clavicle, slowly descending towards the agitated chest. My hand moved towards the inner part of her thigh, hoping that her knees would separate.
And say... Do you like being looked at? Does it excite you?
What nonsense you're saying... Of course... No... Don't say such foolish things...
Nervous and on the verge of tachycardia, she took the carrot to her mouth to give it another bite. I stopped her by grabbing her wrist. I took the vegetable from her hand and left it on the nightstand, next to her glasses, rosary, and lamp that lit us with its warm and crepuscular light. It was time to take action. If I didn't seize the opportunity that presented itself that night, I would regret it for the rest of my life. I took off my pants and threw myself back on the bed, leaning on my elbows. My rosy red head ariete remained free, harder and more prepared for action than ever before. I was so fast that I didn't give her time to react. She could only look at it with raised eyebrows while nodding in rhythm with my beats, aiming at the ceiling.
Leave that. I have something better you can take to your mouth.
It wasn't a particularly subtle phrase but I already told you that I'm not very good at talking to women, especially when I'm really horny. She looked away after some long seconds and sighed.
Hey Carlitos... For God's sake... What are you doing?
Her voice was barely a sharp and trembling whisper. At least she hadn't called me 'Carlos', which she only did when she was very angry, nor had she moved away from me.
At least look at it and tell me if it's bigger — I said, smiling with malice.
—Is it bigger? —he asked. He looked at my cock again and it greeted him with a slight nod.
More giant than a carrot. Is it more giant?
—Yes... Yes, it's even bigger. Happy?
---Is it long or fat? ---I asked again, trying not to let her stop looking at me.
Ay, how annoying... Both things. It's longer and more... Fatter. Now stop messing around and put on your pajamas.
Come on, don't be like that. Why aren't you caressing her the way you did before with the carrot in the kitchen?
What? Have you seen me? —she exclaimed, ashamed.
Yes. I already knew you hadn't caught her to eat her, silly one.
But you'll be... shameless —he said, pretending more anger than he felt.
Come on, just a little bit.
I grasped her hand and led her to my majestic phallic totem of virility. Slowly she circled the trunk with her fingers, exerting just the right pressure to feel how hard it was and make the bud swell a little more. My country grandmother, not a city lady with soft hands, couldn't imagine anything more pleasant in that moment. They were clay-like hands, wet earth from rain and freshly baked pastry. When she started moving it, very slowly up and down, I felt like I was home for the first time. In my true home that many years in the city had made me forget.
Only a little bit, huh? A minute and... You're going to your room —he said, with a flattering lack of conviction.
While I was treating myself to a slow and affectionate masturbation, her green eyes divided their attention between my entranced face and my cock, whose tip sparkled with pre-cum. It didn't take long for it to slide down and glide over her fingers, which didn't bother her. I didn't take my eyes off her body. She had leaned slightly over me, bringing one knee up onto the bed. In that position, her hip formed a curve that drove me crazy and her dark little hole was a deep ravine into which I would have gladly plunged. It wasn't a premeditated posture, like those of the bitches in magazines or movies. Her body instinctively knew how to be sensual and attractive.
Why don't you take off your nightgown? It's very hot.
Suddenly he looked at the bedroom door and window as if he feared someone might enter or spy on us from the dark night. The movement of his hand became slower but didn't stop.
—That's nothing. I'm not going to undress myself.
It's not fair. I'm naked.
You don't have shame —he said, smiling.
Come on, show me your tits, please —I begged, as if I had five years old and was asking for an ice cream.
Fortunately, I had never denied my grandson an ice cream, and I was dying for those two enormous balls of sweet vanilla. He stopped teasing me and thought about it for a few seconds that felt like an eternity to me. He looked at me with a furrowed brow and an ambiguous smile on his lips, between tender and sardonic. He slid the straps off his shoulders and pulled down the camisole to his navel. And there they were finally, in all their splendor. Two enormous and pale breasts, full and defiant. They hung a bit due to their weight but hadn't lost all the firmness of past times. Far from disfiguring them, the numerous freckles gave them an even more delicious appearance, like cinnamon sprinkled on rice pudding. The pink areolas were the size of a 'María' cookie and the nipples were thick and short, like sensitive buttons ready to be pressed.
Damn it! They're the hell —I exclaimed.
That mouth, Carlitos, scolded me.
Sorry.
It was the second time he touched my zambomba, this time with both hands, going up and down at a constant rhythm that accelerated very gradually. It was clear it wasn't the first time he had masturbated a man. Due to the position of his arms, his breasts were pressed against each other, and they trembled as his massage became more intense. If he wanted to milk me like a good child and send me to sleep, then he didn't know me at all.
Parted his skilled hands from my cock and I got up from the bed. She held her by the elbows and pulled gently, indicating that she should stand up, which she did without resistance. We faced each other, me completely naked, with the bright tip of my shaft pointing forward. She had her breasts exposed and her camisole rumpled around her hips. I pulled it all the way down and stayed on my knees, caressing her legs from the ankles to the buttocks. I brought my face close to her pubic area and my prominent nose sank into the triangle of small red hair. Lower down, you could make out the beginning of a pussy as plump and succulent as the rest of her body.
By one reason or another, at 19 I had never eaten a clitoris. I had heard my friends making exaggerated comments about how hard it was to do it well, so I didn't want to risk disappointing the rustic goddess who seemed to surrender so docilely to my desires. I got up slowly, kissing every inch of skin on the way, climbed up the curve of her belly until my cheeks met between her divine nipples. She breathed out one sigh after another and shuddered under the caresses of my hands and lips.
Dig my fingers into the soft abundance of her tits and I indulged with pleasure playing with them. I caressed, pushed one against the other leaving my face in between, inhaling the scent of her chest, familiar yet excitingly new at the same time. I brought my tongue in circles around the whimsical reliefs of her areolas, as if reading a secret message written in Braille. I sucked both nipples with the same avidity of an infant, pressed them between my lips, caught them with my fingers and got drunk on their flavor. The timid moans that reached my ears encouraged me to take another step.
Raising my mouth to her neck, I put my hand between her legs. Between the reddish forest, I found her prominent upper lips, plump and tender like the two halves of a freshly baked bun. It didn't take me long to find her swollen clitoris, I dedicated it a brief massage and then introduced my ring finger deep. It entered the cave like an insolent marten in a foreign den. It was wetter than I expected and so hot that the stifling room temperature seemed compared to a winter gust.
When she felt it inside, moving without any restraint, she stood on tiptoes, which increased our height difference. The robust legs tensed and her hands gripped my shoulders. A second and third finger joined the first, encountering no more resistance than the narrowness of the cave, a constriction that yielded slowly to my invasion.
–Carlitos... For God's sake... What are you doing? Oh, Sir... –she muttered, with a thread of voice.
But that night God was looking the other way, allowing us to commit such a grave and pleasurable sin. The crucifix on the wall was just a piece of wood and the rosary on the table nothing more than a string of beads. Although my grandmother complained, she didn't do anything to stop me. She only showed reluctance to part her lips when I kissed her, after managing to get her head low enough. The relentless activity of my fingers forced her to open her mouth to release a groan and I took advantage of the opportunity. As soon as our tongues touched, she stopped resisting. We melted into a long kiss. Her arms wrapped around me and she caressed my hair and back while our tongues played inside and outside our hungry mouths. Her saliva tasted like carrot, long summer afternoons and Christmas mornings.
My cock, pressed against her thigh, hadn't lost a single ounce of its hardness. The prolonged erection was starting to cause an annoying tautness and I knew it was time to up the ante. The moment of double or nothing. Without stopping kissing her, I knocked her down on the bed and positioned myself over her, looking at her face-to-face. Her flushed cheeks were burning and her green eyes were piercing into mine with an intensity I had never seen in them before. Her parted lips, rosy and moist, released agitated breathing. I was drenched in sweat and her skin glistened under the lamp's light.
Son... What are we doing? We can't...
It's nothing. Relax.
—Oh... May God forgive us...
I grabbed my cock and searched with the inflated head for the opening that my fingers had already enjoyed. It didn't cost me to find it. The whole voluptuous body of my hostess shuddered when I penetrated her slowly, without brusqueness but only once. I let myself fall on her, kissed her breast and sought her lips again, letting her feel palpitate inside. Her strong fingers dug into my shoulders and a long sigh sent a warm gust of air against my face. My initial attacks were slow and careful. I noticed the contractions of her little-traveled tunnel squeezing my cargo wagon, noticing how it widened slowly. Meanwhile, I was stroking and licking her tits, kissing her neck or seeking the taste of her tongue again.
I love you so much — I whispered near her ear.
—And I... And I to you, heaven... But this... This we do... Not...
Shh. Quiet down.
I incorporated myself without taking it off, kneeling on the bed. I grabbed her magnificent ankles and placed them on my shoulders, not letting the opportunity pass to kiss and caress them. I pinned her arms to both sides of her body and carefully let my weight drop, looking at her face. In that position, my cock sank deeper and the contact of my pelvis against her raised thighs materialized in loud slaps of wet skin when I accelerated the rhythm of my thrusts. She clung to my arms as if she feared being dragged by a hurricane, closed her eyes, and her neck arched over the pillow while mixing gasps and whimpers with genuine cries of pleasure. When I saw her biting her teeth and felt the rapid spasms of her legs on my shoulders, I knew she was having an intense orgasm. Maybe the first in more than two years, at least with company.
His climax was long and noisy, largely due to the old mattress springs, which creaked like a flock of screeching ravens. I pumped harder and harder. She attacked me so fiercely that her knees almost touched my chest. Holding onto her ankles and with my thighs rubbing against hers, I screwed her like never before, growling and panting like a boar. In just a few minutes I emptied myself inside her. Accompanied by the most intense orgasm I had ever had, waves of hot semen traveled from my testicles and flooded her no less fiery pussy.
Exhausted, I let him spread his legs and ended up lying on top of him, recovering my breath with my head on his chest. When my cock lost some of its hardness and came out of her, I could notice how my viscous gift was dripping and staining the sheets, it was that much I had unloaded. I felt his hand caressing my sweaty hair and heard a deep sigh.
Oh Carlitos... What have we done?
Give it a blow. Neither more nor less — I said, while caressing and kissing the nipple that was supporting my face.
My sincerity earned me a more affectionate than aggressive cuddle. Although I hadn't opposed any resistance and it was clear that I had enjoyed myself, my grandmother wasn't enthusiastic about the idea of having a carnal union with her young grandson. When the effects of the tonic completely wore off, dealing with her remorse could be a problem. But I would take care of that when the time came. At that moment, I felt so happy that nothing could worry me.
Suddenly, the body of my companion became tense. It made me roll effortlessly onto the bed and sat down with open legs, looking down.
Virgin Saint! I have to wash the sheets.
Are you going to wash them now? You'll do it tomorrow instead.
—What are you saying? And if someone comes tomorrow and, God forbid, they see her in the laundry basket. What would they think? —she pondered while getting up from beside the bed—. And what if your parents come? Oh God, your parents! You know how your father is, sometimes he shows up unannounced. Nothing's wrong, after all this is also his home, but imagine if they show up tomorrow and...
Calm down. Nobody is going to find out - I calmed her down.
But I was determined to eliminate the evidence of the crime at that very moment. She grabbed the sheets and pulled them with force. With such force that it caught me off guard and I fell to the floor. She looked at me scared until she checked that I was okay. Then she burst out laughing, like I hadn't heard her laugh in years, with genuine joyful belly laughs. I also lost it and delighted in the shudders caused by hilarity on her naked body. Her legs gave way and she fell onto the bed, trying to stop the laughter attack between sighs and snorts.
Ay, what madness... What madness, son...
CONTINUARÁ...
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