Autumn Pt. 01 Ch. 04

"What do you think my answer is?" Frank said, though mostly because he couldn't actually bring himself to say that he didn't want to know everything his mother had said.

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Noreen replied. "I don't think I've ever seen a guy as infatuated with his mother as you are." She snorted. "Though I'm sure Lizzie would beg to differ."

That took Frank from hard to harder to hardest. His cock was so fully engorged that he began to worry about blood vessels bursting. His grandmother could probably take his pulse by counting the throbs of his member. Pre-cum ran down his swollen cap, over his foreskin, and onto her hand. She either didn't notice or didn't mind, though.

"You really are smitten," she said, chuckling.

Few things in life had tested Frank's willpower like the urge to tell his grandmother that he wasn't "smitten" with his mother, or "infatuated" by her, but in love with her. Nothing good would come of that, though. He shouldn't even have told his mother that, though now that he'd said it once it was like a lock had been broken that he didn't think he could repair.

"You do realize you're not going to see as much of her after we get to Autumn, don't you?" Noreen asked. A bolt of pure ecstasy raced down his shaft, grounding out in his balls. That nearly finished him off. "She feels the same way about her father as you do about her."

Of course she did. How could it be otherwise? He'd shaped her understanding of masculinity as surely as she herself had influenced Frank's thoughts about femininity; Grandpa Dick was the standard against which his mom judged all other men. Frank had always assumed as much but had tried not to dwell on it. He'd never really considered the full implications of her obvious hero worship. People didn't talk about Elektra complexes as often as they did Oedipal ones, but they probably ought to; Frank saw no reason to think one any more prevalent, or more potent, than the other.

Nor did he believe that she'd said he was as good as her father.

Did that mean she'd no longer have time for her sons? Frank hoped not. He'd be a fool to think that having his grandfather around wouldn't change things, though. Or to ignore Brianna's less than subtle attempts at getting him to redirect his focus to her mother.

His aunt was an amazing woman, who ticked many of his boxes in terms of both personality and looks. She wasn't his mother, though. No one could ever rival her. No one.

"Someone will take care of you," his grandmother said. As she did, her cami finally evaporated the way his overalls had. Her plaid blouse remained, but Frank kinda liked that. More and more, he was starting to think that she'd be incomplete without a certain amount of green and gold about her person. "Might I suggest you make a run at Lizzie?"

"You too?" Frank asked with a snort.

Whether that got any sort of reaction, however, he couldn't have said. He was too captivated by her breasts to focus on anything else. They were humongous. As if that alone wasn't enough, they were perfect in shape, color, and buoyancy. At that size, something would be seriously wrong if they didn't sag quite a bit; which they certainly did, though they also had some firmness to them. More than a little, in fact. Once freed of their cotton restraint, they bore less resemblance to watermelons than trash bags filled with freshly raked leaves. Frank wished a different metaphor sprang to mind, as that didn't sound very flattering, but that actually suggested a more pleasing—and more natural—shape than that of a swollen gourd. Her nipples weren't as big as he might have liked, but neither were they small. Those nubs were also a lovely, dark pink. The circles around them, mighty broad in circumference, were a medium brown. A lot of guys didn't like big areola, Frank knew, but he just saw it as more sensitive skin through which to induce orgasms. No milk nozzles had ever looked as suckable as his grandmother's. Except for his mother's, of course.

"Still with me?" Noreen asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

"What?" Frank said. "Yeah. Sorry, just got a little distracted."

"By these?" she asked, lifting them up and pushing them together. That nearly killed Frank. He'd never seen such a deep, long line of cleavage.

"Maybe," he said. They were so big and pale and soft and wondrous.

"Would you like to feel them wrapped around your cock?" She'd already promised him her mouth, but that sounded even better. "Of course you would," his grandmother said with a grin. "I see how you stare at them."

"There are people in China staring at `em," Frank said. "A few astronauts too."

Noreen laughed. "I told you, China didn't even exist back there."

"Are there other Courts elsewhere, simulating other countries?"

"Probably," she said. "Are you not interested in sex? Because if you'd rather talk the rest of the way, we can do that. I might be slightly disappointed, but we can."

Hands held up in apology, Frank said, "That was the last one, I swear."

She smiled and pushed her breasts together.

Even his mom didn't get that much coverage when she enveloped him, and he'd found it impossible to settle for anything less after sliding between her perfect pair, much to Nat's frustration. Well, okay, his sister hadn't really minded—part of her was probably even relieved that Frank would never ask her to do it again—but the point was that he'd figured no one but his mother would ever please him in this way again. He'd clearly been mistaken.

It struck him as of the stranger things he was into. Foot worship was a lot less common, and thus probably qualified as the "strangest" in a literal sense, but that didn't puzzle Frank the way his fascination with titjobs did. There was very little in it for her, save for the joy of satisfying her man and getting to feel desirable. There were other ways of achieving those goals, though. All a guy's sensitivity was in the glans, which didn't get invited to those particular parties. His mother would usually take the tip in her mouth while working his shaft with her pillows, but at that point, it was just a slightly unconventional blowjob. Her boobs didn't really add much, technically. Yet they really did.

There was something about titty-fucking that just drove Frank wild. Was it the visual? Looking down and seeing mammary mountains form a deep crevasse for him to fill? Or was it more psychological? The mere fact that he was, in a sense, fucking his favorite body part?

For all his other fetishes and hangups, Frank was definitely a breast man. The people who decided such things had declared that butts were "in" as of a few years ago, and suddenly it seemed every guy was an ass man. Not Frank, though. He'd come to appreciate a nice backside, but if forced to choose between a woman with a great pair of tits yet a shapeless ass, on the one hand, and one who had a bubble butt paired with a flat chest on the other, he'd pick the former every time. Even if the latter happened to be Brianna.

Besides, neither his mother nor his grandmother limited themselves to bobbing back and forth, generating modest amounts of friction against an insensitive shaft. In fact, as Noreen worked, Frank found himself wondering if she'd given her daughter lessons in how to blow a man away with her chest weapons. They had similar techniques, augmented by the same supernatural flourishes. First came the creamy oil squeezed from her nipples, so reminiscent of milk. It had light viscosity, allowing her boobs to glide along his shaft without there being a risk of his cock popping out. Then came the unseen hands and mouths playing with his balls and cap. Spectral nails that had no right to make their presence felt dragged lightly along his sac, an invisible tongue polished his helmet to a shine and licked up his pre-cum, and before long his grandmother was humming on both nuts while sucking the head of his cock like a fucking Hoover Turbo Power. Yet she hadn't bent her neck in the slightest. All she was really doing with her mouth—her actual mouth—was grinning at him.

Had Frank convinced himself that he'd pioneered the use of disembodied assistants? Perhaps, but how could he have remembered that his mom used them too when so much of their past had been taken from him? Besides, he might not have invented the technique, but he made better use of it than anyone else. Or so his mother always told him. Her tune apparently didn't change when she discussed him with her mother, either.

At that point, his grandmother introduced an element his mother never had. She'd proven that she had a talent for body magic, but she hadn't shown him just how adept she was. Somehow, Noreen both heightened Frank's ability to experience pleasure and yet kept his brain from reacting the way it should have after he reached the summit.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, FUCK," Frank panted as the natural cycle of pleasure leading to ecstasy and then to agony failed to culminate in an orgasm. Then failed again, and just kept on failing. His breath caught in his throat and his vision blurred. Every muscle in his body had contracted, and tightly enough to threaten broken bones. He longed for release, yet couldn't deny that the state of suffering his grandmother kept him suspended in was sweeter than sucrose. It was intense and very nearly unbearable, but stayed on the right side of that line. He simultaneously wanted the pleasure to end and yet hoped that it never did.

Did that make him hate Noreen or revere her? It was impossible to say.

Orgasm denial was nothing new to Frank. He was quite a fan of it, in fact. That it could be done in such a manner, however, was a revelation to him. He'd always pulled his partner back from the brink by dulling her senses or actually letting up on his assault; it was through a judicious use of both the brakes and the gas that he determined when and how intensely his partner would cum. His grandmother wasn't doing that, though. She had the pedal to the metal, the tachometer in the red. The finish line kept moving farther and farther away, though. He was a pot of water on high heat kept from boiling over by a sturdy lid.

Hours later, or perhaps it was forty seconds, Noreen allowed him to finish.

A powerful eruption blasted Frank out of his body at the same time that it sprayed hot spunk against the underside of his grandmother's chin. She laughed and recoiled even as another volley shot forth—with some coaxing from her slender hand. Rather than attempting to escape the goo that gushed forth, she seemed eager to find more of it. Soon, milky cum covered her from neck to nipples, making her pale skin glisten.

That did not please the disembodied consciousness any more than it disgusted or amused it, though. It simply was a thing that had happened. The intelligence floating above the couple was infinitely content with the state of affairs—on the train, and across all the levels of reality. It was not happy, for even that was a stronger feeling than it could fathom, but it was free of anxiety, insecurity, loneliness, and all negative emotions. It was untroubled by all the suffering in all the worlds, if not unaware thereof. There was only tranquility.

Until Frank returned to his body.

No sign of his spend remained. His grandmother had cleaned herself up, but she hadn't closed her blouse or replaced her lost cami, though. By the looks of it, she wasn't going to wait until his breathing returned to normal before taking him in her mouth, either.

The blowjob he soon received did not set any records. Brianna's title as queen of fellatio remained undisputed. It was certainly effective, though; Noreen's mastery of body magic allowed for nothing less. She didn't do anything fancy, or give any indication that her timing was as impeccable or her tongue as nimble as her granddaughter's, but his nervous system was convinced that she was doling out greater pleasure than any man had ever withstood.

His second orgasm didn't result in an out-of-body experience, but it was plenty intense. And long-lived. His grandmother kept prolonging it and prolonging it. She seemed to relish the taste of his cum as much as she enjoyed being coated in it.

That, or she was after his energy.

No, Frank didn't believe that. Once he had the wherewithal to do so, he touched her Libido with a thin streamer, simply to get a sense of the size and state of it. The word "vast" sprang to mind but didn't do it justice; his grandmother's made his mother's seem modest, and it was nearly impossible to fill that thing up. Nor was Noreen particularly close to empty. She couldn't have been in any great need to harvest what little her grandson had to offer. If he had to guess, Frank would have said that she was horny, plain and simple. His grandmother had taken his energy because she was too worked up to resist the temptation. While it did require effort to siphon energy from another immortal, by first puncturing their Libido, it didn't require much. Choosing not to could sometimes be even harder.

"You okay?" his grandmother asked. That was genuine concern in her voice, Frank thought. And in her eyes. The amber glow was gone, replaced by a very wholesome and ordinary regard for her grandson's well-being. "Did I take too much?"

"I'm fine," Frank said, running his fingers through her jet-black curls. "Though if you wanted to climb into my lap and let me take some back, I wouldn't complain."

A wicked grin answered him. "I don't know if we have enough time for that."

"Care to chance it?"

She was halfway into position already. Her skirt gathered itself up around her hips and her V-string went up in a puff of smoke. "You betcha."

"Can I ask a stupid question?" he said as she began her descent.

"I thought you were done with that?" she teased.

"I lied," he said. "Who was president when you graduated high school?"

Sighing, Noreen eased up off the cock that had nestled against her vadge. The underside of his his cock was already slick with her juices and he'd been moments away from parting her labia, yet he'd decided to go back to playing twenty questions. Apparently, he needed to have his head examined. "Bill Clinton," she said.

Her implied that nothing could have been less relevant at the moment. Which was a fair point. Yet that was not information that Frank could just move past. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

While Frank tried to make sense of that, his hands started to explore his grandmother's body. Her skin was soft, even though her body was hard. Most of it, anyway. He still couldn't believe someone with bodybuilder thighs and baseball calves had such huge tits, but the desire to tell her that she had to choose one or the other was fading fast. Did he prefer his mother's softer, more classical form? Abso-fucking-lutely. Noreen had her appeal, though. And her insanely powerful legs were part of it, if not to the same degree as her beguilingly big breasts. He found he couldn't keep his hands off her calves. Cute as her felt boots were, Frank almost wished they weren't there. Or didn't come up past her ankles.

"You're like the same age as I am. How is that possible?"

Pumpkin lips touched his forehead. Then his grandmother leaned back and stared into his eyes. Frank couldn't believe how big and dark her own were; how complex. Flecks of green and gold swam in those brown seas. No part of him liked that better than his mother's, which were more black than brown, like chips of onyx, but he decided that it suited Noreen.

"I told you, I grew up in the real world; you didn't," she said in a patient but patronizing tone. Or was that matronizing? "Near as I can figure, the simulation is based on what people like me remember. It might seem like we grew up at the same time, but we didn't."

With some effort, Frank wrapped his brain around that. "So you're older than I am, in the sense that you've lived longer, but we're of the same generation?"

"Exactly," she said, caressing one of his shoulders in a manner that suggested she appreciated his overdeveloped muscles as much as he did hers.

Frank supposed he'd known that already, but Bobby was beefy as fuck. His grandmother would need to get pretty handsy if she was going to convince him that she found his physique as pleasing as that of his uncle. Thankfully, she seemed intent on doing that.

"So we listened to the same music, watched the same movies, and had the same formative experiences?" he said. That shouldn't have been such a hard concept to grasp, but it was.

"I wouldn't go that far," Noreen replied. "Do you listen to the same stuff as Nat?"

"No," he agreed with an amused snort. His sister had shit taste in music—some of which was hers and some borrowed from Todd. Autotuned pop and prog metal, with almost nothing in between. "So what happened? Why were you forced to leave?"

Smiling wanly, she reminded him that she didn't remember. "We're almost there. Do you want to ask me questions you already know the answers to, or can I ride that fat dick of yours?" The prospect made said dick throb. Noreen made no move to take it inside her, though. Her hand left his shoulder, but only to test the firmness of a swollen pectoral.

Fuck it. She'd heard he was timid? That he didn't take charge? Well, she'd heard wrong.

Grabbing hold of her hips, Frank lifted his grandmother up, lined himself up with a spectral hand, then pulled her back down. Hard. With one smooth motion, he made her thighs clap against his and pushed all the way inside, nearly punching her in the cervix.

A loud gasp broke the silence, then Noreen giggled. She immediately started working him inside, but with a shockingly light touch. Her silken lining writhed and twisted about, gliding over but not quite clamping down on his shaft. It was the tenderest caress.

When her walls did close in on him, they did so gently, then treated the instant he felt real pressure. It almost seemed like she was afraid of his girth, though that seemed laughable. When his grandmother grinned at him like a cat who'd caught a mouse by the tail, then began to vibrate against him down there, Frank decided she was simply engaged in something that approximated foreplay even though it came after penetration.

Nothing would ever compare to entering his mother. She tended to throw everything at him from the first, rarely allowing his hilt to touch her sheath without at least one orgasm on his part. When she didn't do that, she surrendered to him so fully that she'd get off a couple times before Frank completed his journey. Yet, while neither Frank nor Noreen came close to climaxing during those first few moments, it felt really, really nice to be inside her. She'd welcomed him with gentle hugs and familial warmth, the way a grandmother should.

"Mmmm, that feels soooo good," she said as her reluctant grip grew tighter. Beautiful brown eyes closed and a rumble sounded from deep in her throat. She pumped her hips lazily, allowing just a couple inches to slip free before taking it all back in. As she did, his grandmother amplified his sensitivity, so that the return trip felt a thousand times more intense than his initial journey into her depths.

"You're telling me," Frank replied through gritted teeth. Then he countered by dulling his senses. In a matter of seconds, she'd taken him from contented yet eager to see how things would unfold to ready to conflicted and ready to explode. The moment she decided to finish him off, he'd be done for. There was no withstanding her prowess.

"I knew Ellie had to be selling you short," Noreen told him, apparently expecting her grandson to forget that she'd expressed skepticism about whether he was as good as her husband—a claim that Frank himself wasn't sure that his mother had made. "She's always had a thing for bad boys," Noreen continued. "Not me. I don't want a shy little mouse, mind you, but a rabid wolf is almost as bad. I'd rather be seduced than devoured."