Teasing Out Hypnosis Ch. 02

"We should take the Harley out."

Steve grinned, drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. A suggestion like that may have been phrased as such but suggestions with his grandmother had become orders -- particularly when one took into account that a bike like that would never have been anything that she would have at all considered, not even once, buying for herself. No, the true Agatha loathed motorbikes and the culture they entailed but his Agatha smiled and went along with anything he said, as long as the words slipped from his lips and no one else's.

Of course, there was only one answer she could give, happier and more amenable to his whim and will and that had been to buy the bike, the monstrosity that she would never have allowed in her grounds before, immediately, along with a biker outfit that was, safe to say, not from a bike enthusiasts store. No, that one had had to be custom made and, well, her credit card had a high enough limit on it with her rating to easily process the rush fee too.

On his order, she went to change and Steve followed, though he was less interested in putting his own clothes on than he was about watching the sexy show of his grandmother changing before his eyes. Her skirt flowed down to her ankles as it dropped, although it had not covered very much at all otherwise, and was replaced with a pair of leather pants suited to the road and protection but with a custom zip in the crotch for, well...that much was obvious!

Her underskirt was a mesh was close enough in the knit to get away with while her leather jacket stayed open, showing off the round of her tits, pulling down without the support of a suitable brassiere. Knee-high leather boots that rendered her entirely a sex goddess extraordinaire completed the ensemble and she stood up straight for him, waiting for her grandson to admire her as Agatha, most uncharacteristically, giggled and posed, turning first one way and then the other.

"Very nice..."

Steve smirked and brushed his fingers back through his hair but he was more interested in the ride at that point, his cock throbbing up, pulsing through with the blood that allowed him to become so hard. Outside, in her small grounds and garden, resided the Harley beside the garage, gleaming in the sunshine. She went to get on it but Steve put his hand out in the nick of time, his plan coming together as nicely as ever he could have liked.

"Wait..." He tapped his nose cheekily. "Safety first! You have to sit on my dick for safety here, grandmother."

He raised his eyebrows as if to say how silly she was for not realising the very basics of motorbike safety and Agatha giggled, slapping her forehead lightly.

"Oh! I didn't realise!"

Yet Steve had everything in plan and in hand as he positioned her in front of him on the bike, confident that the security gates at the front of the property (overkill but, hey, he wasn't going to complain about what she put on her land) would open when required. His own biking pants boasted a similar zip to hers on the crotch and he grunted as he slung his leg over, his grandmother sinking down onto his cock as if she really wanted to take him inside her. Her pussy wrapped itself around him and sucked him deep, her cunt already wet -- it was as if she'd been waiting for him to grind back inside her all over again!

"Unnff..." Steve grunted, biting his lip, struggling to come back to himself. "G-great. But your tits too... Uh, they need to be in my hands. For safety, yes... Safety."

He wasn't even sure that he was buying his own words anymore but Agatha happily wiggled her chest for him, letting her breasts sway and jiggle wonderfully, an open invitation for the groping caress of his hands. Her nipples brushed through against his palms and he grunted, fingering the mesh that truly did not cover anything at all, low-cut too so that he could drag her tits out at a moment's notice, however he pleased.

It could not have been more perfect.

With his cock inside her, Agatha seemed to know just how to operate the bike, handling it like an experienced rider as he revelled in controlling her. Of course, he could have just had her buy the bike and then take it out himself but just where would the fun have been in that? No, it was much better to fly along the road with his grandmother in his lap, cock grinding up into her pussy where it belonged, tingling on the edge of orgasm already even from the light shift of her body during the very start of their ride.

It could not have been more exhilarating as they shot through the suburbs, cutting through the idealistic view of reality with a wild whoop and a shout that carried -- oh, how it carried. Agatha's hair streamed from under her biking helmet (if he was going to go for the leathers, safety was needed in that regard) and she could have been a much, much younger woman in the moment as her grandson squeezed and groped her tits, massaging them with his hands. He was more than comfortable on the back of a bike, although his own was an older model and most certainly not the coveted Harley, but something about having Agatha control it was lewder still to him, fulfilling a deeper-set fantasy in his heart and soul that Steve had not even known that he'd had. And it was those very desires and fantasies that he was set on bringing forth into the sweet light of day at long last.

She rode his cock as they flew down the road, cutting through a lightly more rural spot, although it could not be denied that they were still close to the city, the throbbing life-force of concrete streets and glaring lights. The day concealed them from view, of course, but they flew by a park set along with black railings, autumn leaves whipping by their wheels. They could not help but turn heads, cutting through a flare of exhibitionism, and Steve laughed out loud, breath whisked away on the wind of their passing.

Orgasm whistled upon him so subtly that it took him a moment to recognise and lean into it, eyes strained with watery joy. Again and again as they took their liberty with the ride, he fucked her, ejaculating all he had to give into her, revelling in his youth and vitality, all that allowed him to do as he pleased. Maybe a male body was indeed more capable of rising to the occasion than he gave it credit for but that most certainly was not something that Steve was at all about to complain about as her teasing pussy gripped and twitched around his cock, though he could not be sure whether she was doing it actively as Agatha coaxed climax after climax from him, one after the other. Moaning into her ear, he leaned into his grandmother, heart pounding. Never before had he experienced such bliss!

His cock ground up into her, seated right where he wanted it to be but he did not dare lick his lips in such a position, heaving for breath, chest tight with passion. He wanted her and he had her and he lusted for her, squeezing and massaging her tits, the flesh of her breasts squashed between his fingers. Her jacket covered most of what he was doing but, truly, someone with a keen eye could not help but notice just what was going on as he roared on by, a police car darting out from a side street with lights on and sirens blaring.

It took him a moment to realise what had happened, anger snarling up, clawing up through his chest. Just who did they think they were to try to stop him from having his fun? It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong! Of course, his perception of wrong and right in that instance was not quite the same as what the law deemed to be so and the car shot up behind them, a flash of Agatha's buttocks on show as she lifted herself up a little higher.

"What do we do, Steve?"

He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into her tits.

"Lose the fucker!"

And so it was done, Agatha gunning down on the throttle and taking off as if the hounds of hell were after her. Though Steve would have personally considered the cop more of a pig in the moment, snarling and growling at his retreating car, the bike zipping away as if it was much lighter and more ethereal than it actually was. He had no real beef with the police but, god damn -- did he know how to spoil a good time!

Of course, the car zoomed after them, their head start only temporary as he shouted and drove Agatha on into a high-speed chase, heart pounding, her tits hot and heavy in his hands. Her pulse jumped in her throat and he screamed at her to keep going, orgasm after orgasm crashing over him, though not even Steve could truly have understood as it was happening just how exhilaration could course through his body, affecting that part of him too. One orgasm or a continued milking -- none of it mattered, just the whistling throb of pleasure pushing them on over and over again, seething through where it could. And Agatha climaxed right along with him, her pussy pulling at and massaging his cock as if she was striving to pleasure him, her moans lost in the wind and his shouts of delight.

A chase... Who could have thought that something like that could be so erotic, could get them off so many times? Agatha whimpered, pussy tight, sopping wet and still trembling on the edge of yet another climax. The police car dropped back behind them as she worked the throttle, speeding off into the distance, although they had ridden into a more urbanised area. Concrete and parking lots, however, allowed them somewhere to hide and a distraction, at least, from how good his cock in her pussy made her feel.

It was hard to concentrate but, of course, not impossible as she sped around, whipping down a side street and scattering a pushbike -- the kind that had to be pedalled along manually. Boring! Her heart leapt and twisted as she swung around, tipping the bike, yet neither of them could feel a lick of fear in their hearts for it all, ducking down into an undercover, underground car park where artificial lights illuminated their way in glaring, unflattering strips.

There, she shot to the back and cut out the engine, breasts heaving in the clasp of his hands. Hot patches flushed her skin and she parted her lips to ask if he thought they'd lost the car, only to lose her words in a groan as he pulled and tweaked her nipples lustfully.

"Ohhh..."

"Quieter..."

And yet being quieter was a more difficult endeavour than anyone in such a situation could care to either admit or understand. His cock teased her forward on the seat as she held the bike as steady as she could, kicking the stand down, however shakily, to support it. It would not be enough to support them fucking on top of it, of course, but it would do them well enough for a little while, just enough for them to get positioned, his shaft pounding, driving, seducing away every last thought that she had in her mind.

That was okay. That was fine. She had her Steve there to love her, to take care of her, to do every last kinky little thing she'd ever wanted to do in her youthful yet sordid life. The bike groaned beneath them as they humped and gyrated, his cock pounding her, driving her open, forcing her to shape her body to the shapely girth of him. Gripping the bars, she howled and arched, forgetting to be quiet, although not even Steve had the presence in himself to clap his hand over her mouth as his orgasm rose and rose. More slowly this time, it seared through the back of his mind, demanding attention, though the only one there who could provide that attention was the woman on the bike before him.

He could have swung his leg over and off but Steve could not stop himself, pounding her, snarling as he slammed into her needy cunt over and over again. It was just as well that the police had neither found them there nor caught them, allowing them to enjoy their pleasure in the best way possible. Yet it was the climax that ripped through her right then and there that made it seem that everything that had preceded it was a fake and false, the pleasure a mere ripple when she was about to unleash the waterfall of lust that she'd had in her heart.

He bore her forward, hands squeezing on her tits, though far more was needed to hold her in place as cum gushed from her pussy as if his cock had been the only thing sealing it up deep inside her. It sloshed out over the seat of the bike, a mess of cream that he was, by no means, going to clean up by himself, more and more staining the leather trousers, everything new and extravagant that he had bought -- all with his grandmother's money of course. No longer did he even care about them being heard, lust coming above all else, the carnal desires of immediate sin overcoming anything that could have been long-term otherwise.

Yet there was more to come, so much more, as she whimpered and pushed back, using her leverage on the Harley to grind back onto his shaft, wanting more even as so much cum slopped out of her pussy. There was nothing soft or gentle about what she was doing right then or there as she moaned and grunted, losing sense of even her soft femininity as Steve ripped her helmet from her head, soft, grey hair cascading through the groans. How could so much cum be forced up inside her? Perception wavering and warping, she whimpered and rolled her hips, eyes half-lidded with lust, unable to force them open to how she would usually look.

Steve groaned softly, not needing to be loud and in charge to know that he was at the point of climax once again and, for the time being, his orgasm would come gently. In sifting, stark contrast to the climax of his grandmother, he held her tight, hands dropping to Agatha's hips, drawing her softly back against him. His cock seated itself deep inside her, soaked with his own cum and her sweetly tasting arousal, the scent of their coming-together rising up thick and strong in the air around them. It even overcame the stringent scent of gasoline on the floor, litter and waste, cold air nipping at their nostrils as they tried to focus on one another and one another alone.

Drawing out, however, was the grand finale of it all for Steve as the retreat of his cock brought forth a thick stream of cream, drooling from her pussy as if Agatha had been pounded by multiple men one after the other rather than just one. It was crude in the very best of ways as she moaned and trembled in his grasp, one foot on the floor, although the heels of those boots, at least, were more sensible for riding the bike than anything else that Steve may have otherwise have dressed her up in. That was something to be grateful for and she rolled her head back as his lips caressed the back of her neck, teasing down the line, brushing her hair to the side.

"Oh..." Her lips parted, breathing out his name. "Steve... Oh, Steve..."

And yet there were no more words that she could possibly call to her lips right there and then as she arched against him, her buttocks rising for his attention, even clad in those leather trousers. They were more fitted than anything she had ever worn before, the skirts being more revealing in another manner to Steve, and he grunted deep in the back of his throat, groping and squeezing, even giving her buttocks a sharp spank as more and more seed slurped from her gaping, needy pussy. And yet even those climaxes would not be enough for her as he slipped his fingers inside, helping even more cum to slip from her, need rising up more and more, their time together still growing as they learned things about each other that, perhaps, they had not even known all on their own. Kissing her cheek, he smiled and drew her back against him, letting her sit herself down in what cum and fluids remained on the seat of the bike, smearing it into her leathers and her pussy, though there would be plenty more where that came from.

He'd turned her into the perfect whore.

And, when they went home, he'd plough that pussy full of his semen all over again.

*

Little work was done during the course of Steve's trip with Agatha as he had his attention on other matters. Gone was the sense of not knowing what he wanted or where he was going in life -- everything now, for the immediate future, zeroed in on lusting after his grandmother. All he had to consider was how he wanted to play out each and every last one of his fantasies, everything new leaping to mind, so many ideas that there didn't seem to be enough hours in the day to make good on them all.

They lay together on the couch, face to face, just so that he had better access to her tits. They squeezed up to his chest as he groaned and ploughed her pussy slowly and languidly, sliding into her over and over again, his rhythm slow and sensual. There was nothing desperate about how he fucked her that time, enjoying the moment for what it was, and Steve groaned softly, the Television in the background but not really being watched. He, after all, had better things to spend his time on, including the woman in his arms.

"You were a collector of modern art, weren't you?"

It was a question that Steve would not have been interested in before but, with her pussy suckling on his shaft like a pair of lips, it was just what he felt he needed, whimpering and grinding, thoughts running amok with illicit, fresh fantasies. If there was art, he could make artistry and that was something else that had been playing in his dreams and fantasies as he fucked the sexy older woman repeatedly, days passing in a lustful blur of drama.

"Mmm..." Agatha swallowed hard, panting as his lips dropped to her tits. "Oh... Yes, yes, I was. Why... Oh... Why do you ask?"

It was hard enough to talk sometimes when he was around her but there was the added difficulty of having his cock up in her pussy, driving deep and hard, pounding her wantonly. It was all she desired and, as much as she got of it, she could not find it in herself to grow either tired or bored, wanting him more and more as the tension between them grew. She gasped and groaned even as he nipped at her tits, not leaving any spot of flesh untouched, breath shuddering up through her chest.

"It's..." She moaned, struggling with her words. "It's a strange thing to ask now...Steve."

It was strange how her personality surfaced in such a way and yet her words were dramatically softened from how she would speak naturally, though in a good way. The sharpness was simply not required as his hand travelled down her body lazily, teasing through the curl of hair at her crotch where she had grown it out on order, lusting after the changes in her body even as he tried to follow the strength and passion of his newest fantasy.

"That's good," he murmured, hot breath washing over the rapidly cooling patches of saliva on her breasts, a lick of a chill curling around them. "I'll tell in time. Do you have tools to paint too? Canvas and...mm..." He paused briefly, grinding up into her, orgasm rising as if it was going to take his mind right then and there. "Mmm... That's good... And paints too? Brushes?"

The question was wrapped up in a moan but she understood that one, panting lightly as she rolled her head back against the sofa, baring her throat submissively to him. His lips on her breasts swayed her mind, trying to think, trying to simply breathe... Did she even have her old brushes left? What did he want to do with them? Paint himself?

"Um..." Agatha moaned, her hands running down his back, enjoying his body as much as he was enjoying hers. "Yes... Yes, I do. They're in the loft!"

Her last word came out in a rush and a cry as she arched and bucked, grinding on his cock to take him deeper, orgasm shivering through her body. It was gentle and sensuous and he was enough of a gentleman to wait until she had finished, even though he was waiting on his own. He wanted it too but he wanted the passion of it, feeding a new kink as he drew out of her and grinned, an eyebrow cheekily raised.

"So... Get the canvas, the biggest one you have. Bring it down here with your brushes and paint."