Chapter 9: The Grand Symphony
The line dissolved.
Patience, a threadbare commodity among the hungry horde, finally snapped. A collective, grumbling impatience rippled through the remaining women. The careful order Agnes had imposed crumbled like a sandcastle under a wave.
“Enough of this one-at-a-time nonsense!” a voice cawed from the back.
“The night won’t last forever!”
“I’ve been holding this since bingo!”
It started with hands. Groping, grabbing hands, seizing Tiffany’s ankles, her wrists, her hair. They pulled her limp form towards the edge of the table, her backside hanging over. Then, the blunt, insistent pressure of multiple tips, each seeking a home, pressed against her simultaneously.
Agnes, still overseeing, shrugged her bony shoulders. “Fine. Have it your way. Stuff the turkey.”
The first invasion was a double penetration, brutal and uncoordinated. Doris, her fat stubby cock re-hardened, shoved back into Tiffany’s well-used pussy from behind. At the same moment, Edith’s curved, pale wand jammed into her ass, the two members meeting somewhere inside Tiffany’s core with a sickening, deep pressure that made her eyes roll back.
They didn’t take turns. They fucked in a discordant rhythm, jostling against each other, their aged bodies slapping against Tiffany’s trembling thighs. The overstretch was immense, a burning, tearing fullness that transcended pleasure and pain, becoming simply a state of being.
Then a third pressure, hot and insistent, at her lips. It was Margaret, the blue-haired one, shoving her length into Tiffany’s mouth without ceremony. Tiffany gagged, her jaw forced wide, but Margaret just clutched her head and pushed deeper.
Tiffany was pinned, a human skewer, impaled in three directions. The grannies fucked her with a rabid, competitive energy, their thrusts colliding inside her, creating a internal maelstrom of friction. She couldn’t scream; her throat was packed. She could only emit choked, gurgling moans around the cock in her mouth. Spit and pre-cum drooled down her chin in a continuous stream.
Their climaxes came almost together. Doris roared, burying herself deep, and her frothy geyser erupted, flooding Tiffany’s already saturated channel. The force of it pushed Edith momentarily out, but the skeletal woman drove back in, her own orgasm hitting a second later—a cold, shocking rush that mixed violently with the hot cum already inside.
Margaret, feeling the convulsions around her, threw her head back and shrieked, pumping a bitter, salty load down Tiffany’s throat. Tiffany swallowed convulsively, drowning in it.
They pulled out, and the void was immediately filled. Another granny, her member oddly ridged, dove into the sloppy mess of Tiffany’s pussy. Another, with a cock like a knotted rope, claimed her ass. A third presented two short, thick cocks from a single mound of flesh, pressing one against each of Tiffany’s nostrils, fucking her face in a bizarre, suffocating rhythm.
The table was chaos. Bodies pressed in from all sides. Cartoonish, veined shafts of every shape and size jockeyed for position, slapping against each other, bumping bellies and thighs. Hands groped and pinched any spare inch of Tiffany’s skin. The air was a cacophony of grunts, wheezes, and wet, slapping impacts.
“Move your hip, Gladys, you’re blocking me!”
“She’s got another hole, use her mouth!”
“Lick it! Lick my sister while I fuck her!”
Tiffany’s mind had flatlined. She was pure sensation, a vessel being filled and refilled, a ragdoll manipulated by a dozen horny, frantic old women. Her vision blurred. Sounds muted. The only reality was the relentless stretch and flood, the rough hands, the pungent smells of sweat and sex and ancient perfume.
A granny with a shock of orange hair—Tiffany recognized her from the end of the last round—lowered her face to Tiffany’s, and with a wide, toothy grin, dragged her long, dry tongue from Tiffany’s collarbone to her forehead. The sensation was like being sandpapered. “Good girl,” the granny hissed, her breath reeking of denture cream and sherry.
Another, while waiting her turn, squatted over Tiffany’s face, her wrinkled nether lips parting. A low, bubbling rumble preceded a long, damp fart, a puff of intimate, gassy air that coated Tiffany’s features. The granny chuckled. “A little bouquet for you, dear.”
The overstuffing became ludicrous. At one point, Tiffany felt a fourth, impossible pressure at her ravished entrance. It was another cock, smaller but insistent, trying to press in alongside the one currently pistoning inside her. The two heads rubbed against each other, vying for space, stretching her beyond any natural limit. She felt a pop, a giving way, and then both were inside, a twisted, bulging knot of flesh stretching her obscenely wide.
She came then, a weak, shuddering orgasm that was less a peak and more a systemic failure, a white flag from her overloaded nervous system. It didn’t matter. It didn’t stop anything.
Through the forest of moving limbs and heaving bodies, Tiffany’s glazed eyes found her grandmother. Carol had watched it all, her hand steadily stroking her own impossible member, which now stood fully erect, a monstrous, fat pillar of flesh that reached past her knees, thicker than a beer can, veined like a topographic map. A single, gleaming bead of pre-cum welled at the tip.
Carol caught her gaze and smiled, a prim, knowing smile that belonged at a church social. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Then she began to move forward, parting the crowd of her friends with gentle, authoritative touches. “Ladies, I think you’ve warmed her up sufficiently,” Carol said, her voice cutting through the din. “It’s time for the main course.”
A respectful, eager space cleared around the table. The grannies pulling out of Tiffany’s various holes did so with a chorus of disappointed but understanding sighs. They knew what was coming. They backed away, forming a panting, sweaty circle.
Tiffany, suddenly empty, convulsed on the table. Rivers of frothy, mixed cum poured from her gaping holes, pooling beneath her on the plastic tablecloth. She felt hollowed out, a well-used socket. But as her bleary eyes focused on the approaching monument of her grandmother’s flesh, a fresh, desperate hunger ignited deep within her ruined core.
It wasn’t over. It was just beginning.