My Slutty Redhead Granny

This is it, Jake. The point of no return. If this is what it takes to make you grow a pair and turn into a real man, then so be it. Whatever it takes to start a new chapter. I go to that long shelf, staggered by the immense variety of kinky toys. My eyes are drawn to a riding crop with a black and red leather tip, shaped like a rose. Very apropos for our vintage literary role-playing. I also grab a black leather dominator mask and put it on, getting more into that iconic Gaston Leroux character.

"You're my willing slave now, Christine. You better do as I fucking say, because you know I'm the biggest psychopath in Paris."

"Yes, master," she giggles, playing along like a good sport.

"Let's go back to the French Revolution. Go to that pillory over there, and put your head and wrists between the sliding boards."

"As you wish, master."

She goes to that guillotine-style stockade and bends over, giving me a nice clear view of her pussy and asshole. She rests her neck and wrists against the curved notches in the lower board. I unlock the upper board, slide it down on the upper half of her neck, and lock it again in place. My grandmother is now my helpless submissive girl-toy, to do with as I damn well please. She wiggles her ass amazingly in my direction, filling me with an overwhelming desire to shove my dick right up her glistening honey-hole. But that would be highly immoral, not to mention illegal.

"There you go, you dirty fucking diva," I grunt like the phantom in his dank lair beneath the opera house. "How about some nice melodies for my angel of music?"

"That would be lovely, master. I don't have any classical records, except for Saturday Night Fever... sort of."

I go to a record player along the opposite wall and thumb through a bunch of albums on the shelf below. They're all classic rock or pure disco dance, except for two songs on the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack. I put that platinum-selling record on the turntable, turn on the power, and drop the diamond needle on the outer edge, playing a disco-classical instrumental tune that sets a perfect mood: "A Night on Disco Mountain" by David Shire / Modest Mussorgsky.

"You're a great performer, bitch," I growl while staring down at her ass and whacking the rose whip against my right palm. The slight stinging sensation makes my erect penis twitch with intense anticipation. "You should have stayed in school and gotten some classical training, instead of dropping out and turning into a fucking kink whore."

I swing that rose whip at moderate speed, thwacking her saggy left ass cheek.

"Oh fuck!" she shrieks delightfully. Oh fuck, indeed. I'm the first guy to whoop her ass since her husband kicked the bucket. A nagging voice in the back of my mind points out the absolute absurdity of the situation, but I keep swinging that flower on her pale milky ass.

"Every rose has its thorn, bitch!"

"Ah! Ah! Ahhh yeeeeah! Whip me harder, Jake!"

"You will call master, you fucking harlot!"

"As you wish, master!" she groans submissively. I swing the leather rose harder on her posterior, making her yelp louder.

"I love your kinky games, master! Make me feel your dark desire!" she utters dramatically, quoting verbatim from that 1977 "porno chic" flick. I keep whooping her ass with relentless masculine bravado; symbolically punishing all those stuck-up L.A. hotties who treated me like shit, embarrassing me in front of the whole damn high school.

"Whip my pussy, master! Swing that rose right on my twat!"

Her own repressed emotions are also pouring out, making this "lesson" much kinkier than we intended. Spinning out of control, quite nicely. I gladly obey her order, thwacking that twat repeatedly. Conan probably didn't dominate her with the same high level of enthusiasm in his later years, so I'm really taking Dolores back in a time warp. Rejuvenating her more and more with every stinging lash of leather from her barely legal grandson.

"Harder, master! Slam that rose right on my fucking clit!"

I whip that little pink bundle of nerve endings in a heavy rapid blur, driving her insane. Her pain threshold hasn't lowered a single inch since '79. Still crazy after all these years. I keep clobbering her clit, and she keeps begging for more. It soon gets boring, so I just growl over her helpless body, just like Erik.

"The phantom wants to play with some more toys in your secret lair," I utter theatrically while gazing at her clear natural lubricating fluid that glistens on the leather rose.

"As you wish, master. My back is getting sore, so let me off this thing and tie me up standing."

I free her from the old-school pillory and untie the rope that binds her hands. Then I lead her toward a bunch of chains dangling from the ceiling. She raises her arms high in the air, and I retie her wrists to a high steel link.

"I'm sure you have a lot of nipple clamps, you dirty old freak."

"Yes indeed, master," she giggles. "Third shelf down, second box on the left."

That box is loaded with flesh squeezers of every shape, size, and material. I pick out the coolest-looking red metal ones, shaped like crab claws.

"Oh god, I love those crabs. Conan got those back in '81, during our trip to Baltimore."

I clamp those crustacean claws right on her pointy pink nipples, making her moan and gasp and groan simultaneously.

"Yeah, bitch, you love how that hurts. Redheads have a recessive gene that also gives them a high pain threshold."

"You've done your homework, master. I can take all you got, and still beg for more. I know you love ginger pain sluts."

"Fuck yeah. I bet your husband ate some crab cakes right off your ass."

She laughs awkwardly while swooning in painful pleasure from the clamps.

"More!" she shrieks. "Put some crabs right on my pussy."

Damn, damn, damn. I gaze at her indignantly, wondering how much crazier this "lesson" will get.

"Please! I know you fucking want to!"

She's damn right. I better go balls-to-the-wall for the next five days, getting plenty of "inspiration" before reverting to a dorky bookworm wallflower. Just touching her pussy still doesn't count as incest, right? I grab some more claws and grab my grandmother's outer labia, clamping each pink gateway to her Holy of Holies. Making her entire body shudder while swaying in vertical bondage, with her shrill moaning echoing across the plain white walls. The hot slick velvety sensation of her pink muff lips, combined with the female pheromones wafting through her stuffy windowless dungeon, makes me so fucking horny. Drowning out any lingering rational thoughts in my testosterone-addled teenage mind.

Meanwhile, "A Night on Disco Mountain" fades out on the record player, and "Open Sesame" by Kool and The Gang fades in. I move the diamond needle to another apropos disco-classical instrumental: "A Fifth of Beethoven" by Walter Murphy / Ludwig B. A bunch of Stradivarius violins bark out an uber-famous opening bar:

Ba-ba-ba-buuuhhh... Ba-ba-ba-buuuuuhhhhh...

... followed by some funky '70s drums and bass guitars.

"Keep punishing me, master!" she pleads desperately. "Whip the shit out of your kinky mee-ma!"

Damn, I love how she points out our blood relation while butt-naked in bondage. I grab a big-ass cat o'nine tails with black leather braids and metal-riveted tips. Going big or going home, just like "Sally Strapper" back in the day. I swing that cat nice and hard, lashing the rivets against the metal crab claws on her tits with a lound ping!

"Ahhhh, shiiiit!" she groans. "More!"

I whoop those big titties ten more times, with equally loud results, until the claws fly off her pink nipples and clatter on the concrete dungeon floor.

"Whack my pussy, baby! Swing that cat so good!"

I swing that nine-tailed cat right on her twat with boundless youthful vigor, feeling so alive and so manly. Grabbing life by the horny horns. I'm the bully now, delivering the fun abuse instead of just standing there in the high school hallway, taking it like a fucking pussy. I try not to picture my dead grandfather doing the same damn thing to Dolores on a regular basis. My grandmother's wrinkly body dangles in absolute ecstasy from the ceiling chain, swaying to and fro, with beads of sweat trickling downward along the many whip marks on her pale white freckled flesh.

"More, more, more! Holy fuck, you're so good, Jakey!"

Her guttural groaning is like music to my ears. The crab claws finally fall off her labia, and I finally stop swinging that whip, sweating and panting.

"All right, enough of these fancy porn star toys. Let's kick it old-school with a nice solid spanking paddle."

"Fuck yeah, daddy! Spank my naughty ass!"

I go to the third shelf from the left and pick out the heaviest wooden paddle, with a smooth ergonomic leather-wrapped handle.

"The phantom of the opera loves spanking naughty divas. Here comes the overture, bitch!"

I swing that big heavy paddle with manly aggression, impacting her entire derriere with a loud POSH! She groans even louder as the pain registers all the way up to her clit.

"Oh fuuckkk!"

"Ho yeah, that's the shit," I growl real macho-like. "My parents never spanked me, but I bet yours did."

"Oh yeah. They were old-school Irish blokes, so they spanked and switched and paddled me so many times."

"But it didn't solve any problems. Look where you ended up, you fucking kink whore!"

POSH! POSH! POSH! POSH! POSH! POSH! POSH! POSH! POSH! POSH!

"Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck!" she shrieks as the blows rain down. I spank her harder, and she shrieks louder in masochistic bliss. She still hasn't said the magic word, so I keep spanking and spanking and spanking that sweet heart-shaped ass, turning it a bright shade of crimson.

"Jesus, that hurts so good! Ah, ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh... Faust, Faust, Faust!"

Her operatic safe word stops my arm in mid-swing. Her body goes limp on the chain, whimpering and pathetically while swinging limply back and forth. My dick is still rock-hard, dripping precum on the concrete floor. I want to fuck that kinky ex-porn star so bad, with no rhyme or reason.

"That's enough role-playing for now, sweetie. Cut me loose."

I free her from bondage, and she embraces me tenderly, pressing her naked sweaty body against mine. My erect penis slides upward against her wet belly. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

"Great job, Jakey-boy," she coos with sweet girl-talk. "Looks like I won't have to teach you much this week. You're already a great dominator, reading my signals and giving me exactly what I want."

"Remote learning was good enough, I guess," I croak awkwardly.

"But I know you're sick and tired of jerking off to kinky porn. You need a real girl to whip, and a real girl to fuck."

She kisses me right on the lips, hard, for about five seconds. Oh fuck.

"What are you doing, grandma?"

"What does it look like, Jakey? I'm so lonely in this big house, and I've dreamed about this for so long. I want your cock, baby. I fucking need it."

She kisses me harder, squeezing my bare ass cheeks with both hands.

"But you're my... you're my... fucking grandmother!"

"It'll be our big dirty secret, baby. Come on, let's fuck. You've been masturbating to all my old pictures, and all my old movies, so I know you want to do the real thing. Even if I'm fifty years older."

"Holy fuck. You're fucking... crazy."

"You fucking love how crazy I am. And I want to find out how crazy you are." She undulates her hips against my hard-on, getting me even hornier. "I'm really fucking good, boy. I was the highest-paid kinky porn star, giving those studs exactly what they wanted. I'll make your wild dreams come true, and give you even more inspiration for your writing."

"Oh my god, oh my god," I groan. But my hands drift subconsciously down to her ass cheeks, betraying my genuine desire.

"That's right, honey. I know you love my ass, and my big tits, and my ginger pussy. I love your body even more. But we'll have lots of time this week, so let's ease into it. How about I start with just a blowjob tonight?"

My last lingering traces of resistance melt away while gazing into those hypnotizing green Irish eyes. My repressed alpha male personality regains control.

"Yeah, bitch, get down on the fucking floor. Fucking choke on my cock."

"As you wish, master," she beams triumphantly. She drops right to her knees on the hard concrete floor of her basement, and tosses her long red hair behind her bare shoulders, giving me an unobstructed view of her pointy pink nipples. She looks up at my face with a naughty grin, with her face just three inches away from my throbbing manhood.

"You already know a lot about BDSM, but you still have a lot to learn about masturbation. I'll show you how to do it right."

She grabs the base of my six-inch penis firmly with her dainty right hand, and twists her hand slowly up the shaft with the same tight grip, making me groan loudly in pleasure and disbelief.

"Holy shiiiiiiiiiit."

"Mmm-hmm," she hums pleasantly, loving every second of her grandson's gradual deflowering.

"Sex is the most enjoyable part of anyone's day, so you gotta make it last," she says sweetly while continuing that slow up-and-down twisting motion, squeezing tighter on my sensitive tip with each stroke. "Start off nice and slow, building up pressure in your glands and saving your energy for the big finish."

"Good lesson, granny. I'm hot for teacher."

She reaches down to her hairy ginger crotch, and strokes her clitoris in slow circles while stroking my shaft.

"Most men don't massage their prostates while they're jerking off, but it feels really good if you do it right. Like this."

She lets go of her clit and slides those fingers under my hairy brunette ballsack, pressing upward in a slow elliptical motion. Good vibrations flare through my prostate, radiating out toward my throbbing dick.

"Ohhh shit, yeah. Just like that, bitch," I groan gutturally. She keeps massaging my P-spot so good while twisting her other hand up and down my six-inch schlong.

"Stop fucking teasing me, you old bag! Shove that dick in your fucking mouth!"

"As you wish, master," she giggles. She hawks a big loogie on my prick, spreads it out with her hands, and dives right into the deep end. The moist body heat on every inch of my penis makes me howl toward the moon, high above her dungeon. The real thing is so much better than my convenient implausible fantasies. My nerve endings fire on all cylinders, setting my flustered virginal mind ablaze. "A Fifth of Beethoven" reaches a triumphant conclusion, soon followed by "More Than A Woman." I hate the fucking Bee Gees, but I feel way too good to go over there and turn off the record player.

"Hoo-leee-fuuuuck. I can't believe I'm getting my cherry popped by my fucking mee-ma!"

She laughs against my man-meat, and keeps sliding her head all the way down and all the way up at a moderate pace. Keeping her fingers moving against the sweet spot behind my balls, and twisting her neck in that same skillful style, adding good friction to the fellatio. Sucking hard on each upward motion, making a steady slurping sound. I'm gonna cum way too early if I let her keep going like this.

"Bite me, bitch. Give me some pain."

"Yes, Mister Phantom. A little taste of your own medicine."

She bares her pearly whites, opens wide, and clamps down firmly on the base of my penis.

"Oh shit, oh shit!"

She keeps nibbling firmly on the shaft, slowly moving away from my ballsack. Her teeth are still in good shape at the big 7-0, just like the rest of her body. The stinging sensation gets more and more intense as she goes up, with fear building on top of my pleasure.

"Oh shit, oh shit. Shit, shit, shiiiit..."

She pauses at the tip with her mouth open and her teeth hovering just an inch above the base of the tip, glaring upward with those naughty green eyes.

"Oh god, it's so sensitive there, oooohAAAAAAAHHHH!"

She chomps down hard on that dense bundle of nerve endings, and doesn't let go. Like a pitbull on a Milkbone.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fu-huh-huuuck! God-you-crazy-biiiiiitch!"

The pain is exquisite, yet highly enjoyable. She squeezes her incisors harder against my delicate foreskin while giggling sadistically, pushing me past my limits.

"Oh god, oh god! Faust, Faust, faust!"

Our safe word brings sweet mercy, relaxing her jaw muscles and pulling back with a pleasant sigh. My entire dick stings so good. I stroke her hot red bangs, and my incel dominator character quickly reasserts itself.

"All right, granny, no more games. Open wide."

She opens wide, eagerly awaiting more incestuous action. I grab her red head with both hands, and skullfuck that gorgeous GILF at full speed. Growling fiercely while pistoning my man-rod like a V8, ramming right through her tightly pursed lips. My dick isn't long enough to gag her, but it's long enough to make her scream. I picture Conan doing the same thing to her in that grainy 16 millimeter home movie, and then I picture many other hard-fucking studs from the "golden age." Deep-throating my vintage porn star grandmother, just like Linda Lovelace.

I keep thrusting my pelvis for what seems like five minutes, panting and sweating profusely as she keeps moaning and groaning against my cock. Lots of good vibrations, figuratively and literally. The first inklings of orgasm ripple through my prostate, and I pull out of her hot wet mouth. I really want to cum all over her pretty freckled face... but another naughty idea pops into my head.

"I want to fuck you for real, granny. In your pussy."

I can't believe I just said that... but I totally want it. She gazes up at me with a blank expression for a moment, and then she gets up and turns around, showing off her well whipped and well-spanked ass. She takes a few steps forward, and bends halfway over, resting her naked torso on top of a horizontal padded leather bondage platform. She reaches back with both hands and spreads her labia as wide as she can, just like she did in so many 1970's skin flicks. My limbic brain makes me take a few eager steps forward, desperate to consummate our illegal passion... but then another idea pops into my overactive imagination.

"No, not here. I'm gonna pound that pussy upstairs, on your king-size bed."

She giggles against the genuine leather, and rises to face me. "As you wish, master. I love your sense of staging, like a good porno director."

"Come on, you filthy Jezebel," I growl like the phantom. "I'm taking you up to your dressing room for the grand finale."

I grab a leather dog leash and leather collar from a nearby shelf and fasten them to her neck, turning her into my literal bitch. I pull her along like a french poodle, grabbing a pair of furry pink handcuffs on the way out of her dungeon. We zig-zag through a maze of boxes in the ordinary part of her basement, and slowly ascend a creaky wooden stairway, with the sweat cooling off our naked bodies. My dick is getting soft, but not for long. I lead her through the dining room where we had corned beef and cabbage with sweet Irish bread, and through the living room where we watched that kinky home movie. Coming full circle on a freaky friday.

I walk my seventy year-old dog-bitch up another flight of stairs, down a dimly lit hallway, and into the master boudoir. I forgot to put the August 1976 issue of Taskmaster back in her dirty magazine drawer after she caught me in flagrante delicto. It's still sitting on a table next to various Flanagan family pictures; opened to page 37. King Abdul-Jabbar of Ballistan is sodomizing a hogtied Sally Strapper in his royal harem while spanking her with his left hand, freeze-framing the flesh-rippling moment of impact.