Chapter 2: First Taste of Heaven
The thing was heavier than it looked. Its heat pulsed against Tiffany’s cheekbone, a thick, veined bar of flesh that smelled of stale talcum powder, mothballs, and something deeply, primally musky. Her mind, usually a chaotic storm of snark and defiance, went perfectly, blissfully blank. A thread of drolet leaked from her slack mouth, slicking the monstrous head.
“Open up, you dirty little thing,” Carol’s voice crooned from above, all trace of her earlier primness shed like a snakeskin.
Tiffany obeyed, her jaw unhinging with a pop. She managed to get her lips around the crown, a staggering accomplishment that stretched her mouth into a painful, wonderful O. The taste was a salty, bitter shock. She gagged instantly, a convulsion that sent bile bubbling up her throat. It mixed with the pre-seed already leaking onto her tongue, a foul cocktail that should have revolted her. Instead, a fresh wave of dizzy lust crashed over her. She pushed forward, taking another impossible inch, her nostrils flaring as she choked and slobbered.
Carol watched, her face a mask of serene predation. “That’s it. Try harder. You want it, don’t you? You came here begging for it.”
Tiffany could only grunt, her airway compromised. Snot streamed from her nose, mingling with the saliva and bile slicking her chin and the shaft. Her eyes rolled back, showing the whites. She was a mess, a beautifully degraded mess, and she’d never been happier.
With a wet, smacking sound, Carol pulled her cock free. Tiffany whined, a pathetic, animal sound, chasing it with her mouth.
“Oh, no more of that,” Carol chuckled. Her hands, surprisingly strong and gnarled, clamped under Tiffany’s armpits. In one heave, she lifted the dripping, sputtering girl clean off the floral rug.
Tiffany dangled, her legs scissoring uselessly in the air. Before she could process the sheer absurdity of her seventy-something grandmother bench-pressing her, Carol adjusted her grip, one arm banding around Tiffany’s waist, the other guiding that fat, glistening tip to her soaked entrance.
“Grandma—!” The word was half-protest, half-prayer.
“Hush now.”
And then Carol dropped her. Not all the way, but just enough for gravity to do the cruel, beautiful work. Tiffany plunged down onto the cock, a shriek tearing from her throat as she was impaled, stretched wider than she’d ever dreamed possible. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sensual. It was a brutal, physiological takeover. Carol began to bounce her, using her own body as a living flesh-light, hefting her up and letting her drop with piston-like precision.
The living room blurred. The lace doilies, the porcelain figurines, the perfectly vacuumed carpet—it all spun into a smear of color and light. Tiffany’s head lolled back, her screams dissolving into ragged, hitching moans. Each descent drove the breath from her lungs. Each upward jerk felt like her insides were being suctioned out. She was nothing but a vessel, a piece of fuckmeat being used with glorious, savage efficiency. Carol’s breath grew ragged, hot against her neck. A string of drool from the old woman’s mouth landed on Tiffany’s cheek.
“Gonna fill you up, you stupid little slag,” Carol rasped, her voice guttural. “Gonna pump you so full you’ll taste it for a week.”
The promise sent a final, seismic spasm through Tiffany. She convulsed, her walls clamping around the invading column in a vice of raw pleasure. That was all the trigger Carol needed.
With a roar that shook her frail frame, Carol slammed Tiffany down one last time, burying her to the hilt, and then yanked her entirely free.
Tiffany crumpled to the rug, a boneless heap, her body throbbing and gaping. She looked up, dazed, in time to see Carol standing over her, that absurd red length pulsing violently in her fist.
The first jet wasn’t a spurt. It was a geyser. A thick, frothy rope of pearlescent cum, smelling sharply of pennies and ammonia, shot across the room and smacked Tiffany directly in the face. It blinded her, filled her mouth with its acrid, salty flavor, matted her hair. The second blast caught her across the chest. The third painted her stomach. Carol worked her cock with both hands now, grunting with each expulsion, drenching her granddaughter in a torrential, reeking downpour.
It pooled in Tiffany’s navel. It dripped from her earlobes. It coated her eyelashes, turning the world milky and opaque. She lay there, gasping, her body painted white, shuddering as aftershocks rippled through her.
Finally, with a last few dribbles, Carol sighed. A sound of profound satisfaction. She looked down at the glistening, cum-plastered girl on her rug, a masterpiece of depravity.
She leaned over, and with a tenderness that was obscene, licked a broad stripe up Tiffany’s cheek, collecting a mouthful of her own release.
“Mmm,” Carol murmured, straightening up. She tucked her now-softening, but still impossibly long, mess back into the confines of her sensible slacks. Not a trace remained on her besides a slight sheen of sweat on her brow. She looked every bit the sweet grandmother again. “Now,” she said, her voice perfectly calm. “Let’s get you cleaned up, dear. Then we’ll discuss the rules for the rest of your stay.”
She offered a clean, wrinkled hand to the wrecked girl on the floor.
Tiffany, a dopey, overwhelmed grin spreading beneath the mask of cum, took it.