Granny and the Homeless Boy Ch. 02

'Age is just a number ~ a number that signifies hideous decay.' - Alexie Sayle

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Jetski rolled off me and lay his sweat-steamed body next to mine on the bed. We were both breathless but he was panting like a dog locked in a hot car. I rested my palm on his rapidly rising and falling breast; there was a pool of damp in the furry hollow of his palpitating chest.

The morning had begun with a tender waking kiss and had quickly escalated into a passionate embrace until Jetski wrestled me underneath him and speared me with his ever-present teenage erection. I'd wrapped my legs around his thighs in a symbolic entrapment and he went to work at creating within me that wonderfully indescribable feeling of an orgasm beginning from small ripples of pleasure then amplifying steadily into a tsunami of cascading and unstoppable climaxes. As I lay recovering from my first blissful overload, my hands idly tracing the contours of his spine, I'd soon become aware that Jetski was not going to give up easily. He resumed labouring intensely at his work, plunging his prick into me at a variety of angles, having learned that this was guaranteed to make my pulsating vagina clamp tightly around his invading cock and squeeze him until he groaned at the exquisite pressure; occasionally he'd pause the plunging to trace an ellipse inside me that made me squeal and cream his never-still penis. It was not long before a second orgasm washed through me and left me panting and blinking in the morning sunlight.

It was then that he slowed his attack, taking time to mildly tease all my inner recesses and ridges with his hard, round cockhead that felt as large as a ripe apple. My fingers were in his hair, pulling him down for a french-kiss as we settled into a comfortable and affectionate slow love-making. His entire body pressed down upon me and his hands sailed over my tingling flesh. His relentless, indefatigable dick played inside my welcoming pussy until the fervour gradually increased to a new crescendo and, with a frantic renewed effort, we moved on up from love-making to hard-core porno fucking. We climaxed in a mutual release that freed us from our frail and imperfect physical bodies and elevated us into another sphere; an ethereal joining, merging, unifying, until we collapsed, spent and wasted.

My hand lay on his hairy chest. I glanced at the clock and it told me that my labourious young man had been slaving at the coalface for over four hours.

"I do appreciate all you do for me, Jet," I said, snuggling up against him, "The efforts you go to, for me."

My leg curled over his and I rubbed my sloppy, puffy pussylips on his thigh. His breathing slowed. He smiled in the way that makes my insides feel all yummy. My seven decades fell away and I was a young girl in his arms. I snaked my arm around him until I was entangled about as close as I could be. I watched him close his eyes. My baby needed a rest after his work-out. He deserved it.

Very quietly, I asked, "Do you mind if I sleep on you like this?"

His last words before I felt him drift off to sleep, "I love it."

I hunched my body even tighter to his and joined him in my dreams. When I awoke, we weren't so much still entangled as glued. Our sweat and cummy juices had dried our sun-warmed skin together. I felt a little sore as I peeled my limbs away from his, gently so as not to wake him. It took me a few attempts to stand. Whenever I was sure my young guest wasn't observing, I allowed myself to be an old lady grumbling at the pain in my knees, the pains in my back, the pain in my shoulder, the pains in my feet, the... you get the idea. I hauled my weary seventy-one year-old skeleton up off the bed with much swearing and groaning then hobbled to the bathroom.

After a pee and a shower I returned, rubbing my long, grey hair in a towel and tugged away the bedclothes to reveal the skinny, naked youngster sleeping in my bed. My bed. My youngster. It felt like a dream I almost couldn't believe. Perhaps I had finally gone doolally and my children had put me in a 'home' and this was the hallucinatory result of my daily medications. Either way, I was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. I hung up my towel and sat on the bed. I let my hands roam over his exposed body. I curled my fingers around his soft and perfectly cute cock and toyed with him. He stirred a little in his sleep. My fingers looked so wrinkly and aged against his flawlessly smooth penis. I felt the softness leave it as it grew in my palm until it had swollen enough for the rosy apple head to peek out from under its hood. The funky smell of our mingled sex wafted up to my nose and I couldn't resist lowering, despite my aching vertebrae, to taste our fuck-flavour on him. It was so nasty, I loved it. I adjusted into a less painful position and stroked and sucked his spunk-moistened cock until Jetski woke and looked down at me.

"I suppose some would call this a sexual assault," I purred between licks and sucks, "But I hope you don't object?"

"No man would," he said with a hint of desperation.

"I'm learning quite a lot about myself since you came to visit."

His dick was upright now, proudly erect and I bobbed my head up and down, as far into my throat as I dare go. I was learning for the first time in my life that I enjoyed giving head. I'd done it before but it had never excited me the way it did with my adorable young man. His twisting twitches and his whimpers of glee gave me such joy. Jetski arched his back, raising his groin to meet my descending mouth. He reached out and brushed my hair away so he could view my blow-job all the better. My eyes darted up and caught his serious, frowning, sordid desire. I had also been learning to anticipate his physical reactions and I could feel his tension winding up. My boy was getting ready to blow. To prolong his enjoyment I slurped around just under his fat, damp cockhead.

"I'm learning quite a lot about you too," I said, trailing my tongue across his gooey tip.

Jetski's hand slid down my belly, cupped my pubes and eased a solitary finger into my slit to stir my juices. I felt my squishy walls grip him tight and I was proud of my septuagenarian internal-muscles.

"Wh-wh-what have you learned?" he gasped as I sucked on him, my lips fitting snugly around the dark-flesh helmet as my tongue lapped.

I relished his moans of gratitude so I spent a good few minutes just using my slutty mouth to solicit these sounds from my boy.

"I'm learning," I said as I licked up and down my teenage lollipop, "That you really like coming in my mouth."

It wasn't exactly dirty talk but it seemed to push him over the edge. His finger sought deeper penetration inside me. I felt his knuckles crush upon my labia. He cried out my name. His ejaculations bombarded my face and hair. I quickly got my mouth over the spurting head to save my already shampooed hair from his gloopy pollution. His finger circled in my hot cunt as I gobbled every last drop of his warm creamy cum.

Silently, I watched his face. He again looked so relaxed and happy and free. I'd forgotten the way a man likes to nap after shooting his load. I didn't begrudge him a second of it.

"Sleep, my beautiful boy, you earned it."

He closed his smiling, dreamy, sky-blue eyes and settled back on the pillow for a resumed sleep. I dressed and went downstairs thinking how decadent I was, fucking and sucking until nearly midday. I was pottering in the kitchen and humming along to the radio when the phone rang to put an end to my contentment. My gobby grand-daughter had gabbed to her mother (my second daughter) about my taking in a hot homeless hombre; my daughter didn't particularly care what I got up to but she had at least passed along the information which spread like wildfire among my other children and associated relatives. In the few days since my grand-daughter's discovery of Jetski the story had spiralled out of proportion and I received a series of consecutive phone calls, each accusing me of losing my marbles and succumbing to the wiles of a practised con-man who was working any number of nefarious schemes.

It was during the fifth call in which my irate son had berated me for allowing a drug-addict with a sob story into his family home and who'd then passed the phone to my daughter-in-law who explained to me about sex killers who inveigle their way into people's lives before strangling them in their sleep, when Jetski, wearing only his raggedy jeans-shorts, entered the kitchen, yawning and scratching his belly. I tried to interrupt the tirade of horror stories that was making my ear numb as I watched the potential perpetrator of these crimes quite innocently popping slices of bread into the toaster. When the call finally ended, after my pleas of sanity and common sense had been ignored, I decided not to answer anymore and switched the damn thing to silent. I tried to cool my fury. How dare they all think I'm such an aged imbecile that... it took some reasoning with myself to judge that they were only upset because they cared about me. They worried about my safety and happiness. To be so cared for was a very pleasant feeling once I'd allowed my indignation to ebb. Jetski's arms were around me, turning me around to face him. He hugged me close in an embrace and kissed me. I felt his hard dick nudging me through our clothes.

"I want you," his voice was husky and low.

My smirking lips pressed to his and I replied, "We have work to do. Eat your toast."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Jetski gave me a pout and released me from his loving clasp.

"Good boy," I told him and kissed his forehead because I daren't kiss his lips without succumbing to temptation.

I was out shopping when my snooty little sister dropped by to have her say about the family crisis. Jetski related to me the conversation when I returned. He'd been in a crouched position, sanding down a door in preparation for painting when she unlocked the door and strode in.

"You must be the interloper," she'd announced, towering over him.

Poor Jetski didn't know this word and thought it must be something to do with decorating so he'd begun to answer when she'd started yelling questions at him. Why was he here? What did he hope to wrangle out of me? What institution had he been released from? Where was I anyway? Murdered and buried in the back garden? He'd tried to explain that I was buying groceries but she'd become more irascible. He'd started to stammer and she accused him of putting it on. She demanded his name but then said he'd made it up when he pronounced his Polish words. She'd ordered him to leave and threatened to involve the police. She'd called him a thief, a low-life and a parasite. He knew the meaning of parasite. He was deeply upset when I returned. I hadn't mentioned to him all the nasty-minded phone calls and he was completely unprepared for the verbal attack. I phoned my sister and put a flea in her ear for being so rude to my guest and this helped to vent some of my anger at my family's interference and base opinion of my mental faculties.

"I should go," Jetski said after I'd calmed down a little, "I don't want to be the cause-"

"Shut up. Just... shut up. Don't."

"But, your f-f-f-fa..."

"I've lived long enough to deserve something special. That's just for me! Haven't I given them enough? It's none of their damn business."

I escaped out into the garden and breathed the air, fighting back tears of frustration. Was I losing him? Were my meddling family tearing him away from me? Was he looking for an excuse to leave? After some time, Jetski brought me out a coffee. I thanked him as he handed it to me.

"I'm not what they say I am," he said.

"I know."

I sipped my drink and watched his cute, confused face wrinkle in deep thought.

"They're right about one thing though," I said, "You do have a certain power over me."

"I do?"

I stepped closer and kissed him.

"Don't you realise you could do anything to me? Or ask me to do anything for you?"

"Anything?"

I raised my eyebrows and grinned.

"Is there something you have in mind?" I asked.

"You wouldn't refuse?"

"Try me," I smirked and sloshed the coffee around in the cup.

He lead me back into the kitchen, took my cup away and slid his hands around my waist. The look in his glacial eyes was devilish as his hands fondled my ample bottom. He scrunched up my skirt, raising the hem until he could circle his palms on my pantyhose-covered butt. They were a sheer tan pair today and felt ever-so smooth and soft. I imagined they were feeling pretty good to him also and I smiled as I watched the fascination in his face. He turned me and leaned me against the dining table. He pushed my skirt up even further. His hands traced the shape of my bum, my thighs, down my calves. He slipped off my shoes and knelt down behind me. He massaged my feet and I felt his nose and mouth press on my soles as he smelled and tasted each foot in turn. He spent some minutes just enjoying the feel and scent of my nylon-clad feet before slowly kissing his way up the back of my thighs to my bum. His fingers snaked up and gripped the waist of my tights and he began to peel them down. He kissed the exposed skin of my backside as it was revealed to him. As he pulled down my tights I gathered I knew what he wanted.

But I was wrong. I had just been about to suggest some lubrication prior to his assault on my posterior but, and this genuinely shocked me, he spread apart my cheeks and pressed his warm, wet tongue to my anus. He began snuffling with his nose and licking my asshole. I'd wished I'd been a little more scrupulous about my personal hygiene. I was speechless. The only sound was his slurping circular licks. I think I may have been even more surprised at how good it felt to have the tip of his tongue dip and slip around my bunghole. I bent over more, leaning my hands upon the table, to offer him further access to what my husband had always referred to as my 'rusty sheriff's badge.'

I was quite lost in world of new sensation when my innovative youngster surprised me further. His arms nudged apart my legs and two determined fingers invaded my pussy, aiming straight up then slightly forward. This boy was learning fast just where I needed to be touched to drive me crazy. His other hand slowly passed up my wet pussylips to toy and tug on my hard, hot, unhooded button. Jetski was fiddling with my clitoris from inside and out. The effect was electric, sending radiating shockwaves of pleasure out across my entire body.

"Where," I had to gulp and catch my breath, "Where did you learn to... how did you?"

My brain was malfunctioning. Jetski retrieved his wriggly tongue from my bumhole and pulled his face back out of my arse.

"Where did you learn this, Jet?" I repeated, fearing that my last question was just a jumble of meaningless sounds.

"Puh-puh-puh-porno," he said, "I'm sorry, is it tuh-too much?"

I reached back, entwined his hair in my fingers and roughly yanked his head back into position between my buttcheeks.

"Don't you dare stop now, dirty boy!"

I felt the ripple of his laughing into my wet asshole before his mouth and fingers resumed their operations. After a few minutes of random and frenetic licking and fingering Jetski reached a symbiotic rhythm and started to eat my butt and manipulate my clit in a simultaneous frenzy that made me come in a wobbling, swearing, undignified mess. I was barely aware of my surroundings but I could just about sense Jet standing behind me and struggling with his jeans buttons. My flushed face turned to see him shove them down to reveal a raging, red-headed hard-on. He wedged me against the table and I was thinking again that this was going to be a buttfucking but his prick delved lower and prodded at my sloshy pussy. The table was poking me painfully in my thighs and so I pushed him off me.

"Not here," I gasped, wiping my sweat-moistened hair out of my eyes.

He pulled away looking dismayed. I must've looked a bit silly as I clumsily kicked the stretchy tights off my feet. He reached out a steading arm and assisted me before I fell flat on my face.

"It's not very comfortable, honey," I explained, "Let's go to bed."

"No," he growled, "Need you now!"

He took my hand and, comedically shuffling in the jeans around his ankles, jerked me along the hall and into the lounge. He kissed me briefly then turned me around and pushed me, while still being careful of his old girl's frail frame, on to the couch. Within seconds he was positioned behind me and his excitable cock was pistoning in and out of my lush, tight cunt. This boy had an undeniable untrained talent for fucking and I was soon powerless to resist any other urge than surrender to the gloriously filthy feeling flooding through me. His hands roamed over my shuddering buttcheeks as his powerful and relentless dick plunged me into a seemingly endless pool of swirling orgasm. Over the next hour I came three of four times more on my unflagging boy, his energy and stamina seemed inexhaustible until eventually my strength left me and I collapsed like a rag-doll into the cushions and he lay on top of me, his probing dick slowing to a gentle, tender screw. I was a gibbering, sweating wreck of a woman. Lights were flashing behind my eyes. My extremities were numbed, my emotions overloaded. I felt my fledgling Casanova gathering speed inside me again. He was preparing for a renewed attack and I had to babble a plea of mercy.

"No more," I managed to say in a dry rasp, "No more, baby, no more."

"No?"

I shook my head. Jetski leaned into me and his prick probed ever deeper in one last throbbing penetration that poked the base of my spine. He held it there until I whimpered and quivered then he withdrew it from me with an audible plop.

"Fuck," I drawled.

I rolled over on to my back and attempted to get some air into my lungs. I felt pummeled, battered and bruised. It was wonderful. Jetski was standing over me, watching me recover. His skinny body seemed unnaturally attached to the huge, perpendicular meat pole that pointed at me accusingly.

"Come here, honey," I said.

I reached out and guided his sexy cock into my mouth. Jetski athletically crouched in a weird pose to get low enough to feed me. I sucked on him gratefully, wanting to reward him for all his energy and efforts. We were dedicated to each other. Devoted, even. I wanted to tell him that I loved him but it seemed ridiculous after only a few days so I demonstrated my affection by blowing him with all my many years' expertise.

"I don't know what I like more," he said with a shy grin, "Feeling you do that or watching you do that."

I smirked as I sucked on his meaty helmet, savouring the cummy taste of my own pussy on my man.

"You're so beautiful and," he continued after a few minutes of slurpy cock-kissing, "And, and you look like you'd never do something that dirty."

I pulled my mouth of his prick to ask, "Because I'm so old?"

"No," he laughed, "What's the word. You look too, um... respectable! That's it, you look too respectable t-t-to have a dick in your mouth."

I twiddled my tongue around the spermy pee-slit in a bid to look as disrespectable as I could. He moaned with delight. I knew he was close. He was looking me up and down. My skirt was screwed up to my waist, my boobs had broken free from my blouse and bra, my legs were wide open to allow my poor, abused pussy to cool off after his youthful savaging. I wasn't expecting his next question but it thrilled me.

"Can I paint your pretty face with it?"

I gave his adorable prong one last kiss before gripping his shaft tight to stroke him and rub the head all over my face.

"You're such a wicked child," I said.

"I wasn't wicked before I met you."

"Hmm, I'm not sure about tha-"

He unloaded his balls once more, spurting globules of stringy slime on to my face. It was warm and gooey and dirty as hell. There was still so much of it. The boy was a spunk machine. It was in my hair, in my eyes, dribbling into my ears and down my neck. I blinked and felt the droplets' weight on my eyelashes. I was glazed in his adolescent seed.