The Cline's Conquer Time Ch. 05

But that was nothing compared to what she was about to see. She thought she had seen filth. She thought she had seen nastiness. She thought she had seen the nastiest sex possible.

She had not seen Helena Cline in action.

The voluptuous grandmother led her son-in-law and granddaughter towards the elevators. Helena glanced at Derek, and she noticed he was absorbed in dealing with Heather's drunken machinations. The three stepped into the elevator. Helena looked out at the lobby as the elevator doors shut. The elevator jerked as it began to rise.

Helena looked forward and saw her reflection in the golden metal of the elevator's interior. She looked into her mirrored eyes, taking in her own image and the woman she had become.

Her hair still looked amazing. She had a stylist who kept it full and lustrous and impeccably in-style. Helena was so ahead of the curve style wise that she had set the curve herself many times, set what was in-style and what was not. Some gray had inevitable pierced through her shiny blond locks. Her stylist had offered to dye it but she had steadfastly refused. She was an older woman. She was not running from that fact. So what if she had some silver mixed in with her shiny blond hair? In her opinion, she pulled it off. She looked spectacular. And if she showed that a bit of gray could still be sexy on a woman, others would follow suit until it was in-style, to the point where young girls would get jealous that they couldn't pull of that look without the gray.

She knew for a fact silvery hair was not a turn off for men. She knew it for a fact. How did she know, you might ask?

Her tiny strip of cunt hair had gone silver years ago, and that never stopped young men from diving right in voraciously.

Her face still looked elegant and gorgeous. Perfectly molded. Each eyebrow and eyelash perfectly styled and plucked. Her face had surprisingly few wrinkles. She had a few, obviously. But not many, and they only added to her mature sex-appeal. Her lips were plump. Her make-up was perfect. It couldn't be denied. She looked fucking hot!

She looked at her own chest. She smiled inwardly. She had double Fs. Double fucking Fs! Before having Jocelyn, she had EEs. Giving birth and raising a child only made them swell larger and more succulent as opposed to diminishing their perfection in any way. Giving birth had only enhanced them and their power. While they were not the insanely perky tits they once were, they were now... merely... ridiculously perky. And they were still incredibly round, full, soft and creamy. Her areolas were still round and smooth. Her nipples were still chewy and suckable. She knew her breasts could still stack up to any other woman's and come out superior. That was a point of pride.

She was still extremely fit. She worked very hard to maintain her figure and she had been very successful at it. Her belly was nice and flat, her legs and arms were nicely toned, and most importantly, her ass rode high and tight. Her firm, round, heart shaped ass was still perky and prominent. Each cheek was impeccable, riding proudly on her behind, a round, firm cheek of silky mature flesh. And when she walked, her ass jiggled in just the right way.

She looked spectacular, that could not be denied. She still got offers, even at her age, to pose nude in men's magazines. Still! No woman her age could hope to look this good, at least without help. Helena didn't need help. She was all natural. Natural blessings, hard work, and discipline gleaned from years of life experience allowed her to look this good. So she couldn't be blamed for indulging in the pleasures of the flesh. She was built for it. She was built to take it.

Sure, Helena had the appearance of a grandmother, an immeasurably sexy grandmother, but hidden beneath her classy veneer was the beating heart of a sexual warrior. A conqueror. A lioness. Her senses always on, her radar going at all times, spying out for hot young men.

But Helena was trying to fight her nature. She loved her granddaughter Heather very much. She was always her favorite. She was unique to the family, a smart girl, a real go-getter, someone above the life of decadence. In some ways, Helena envied the life Heather would have. A life more genuine and loving and healthy than what her and Jocelyn and Jackie would ever have. But all three of them were the same. They were slaves to their nature.

Helena was in turmoil. She wanted to be the evolved renaissance woman, but her body craved the pleasure she just could not find anymore. She didn't want to become that dark, nasty woman she used to be, but she knew that if she did, she would cum like crazy. Have an absolutely world-changing, time-bending, mind-warping cum. A cum nearly thirty years in the making. A cum that would blow away every orgasm she had had in the interim. She had came loads of times, but she never did really, truly cum, a cum from down deep, a cum that shakes you in your bones and rocks your world. She had held herself off, punishing herself, bottling away that one juicy orgasm she needed so desperately. She needed to let go of what was holding her back. She needed to stop punishing herself for her past misdeeds. She had to either accept that she had changed, or accept that she had not. Either accept that she was not that person anymore, or accept that she was the same filthy slut she had always been. Accept that she needed sex with a rougher edge, a filthy nasty edge that had been so lacking for so long, an edge that was so deliciously evil. Then maybe she could have that one, good cum. She was being tortured. And the worst part of it was she knew exactly how to get that one, single, mind-bending orgasm. How did she know? It was simple.

He was standing three feet away.

Sex was all too easy for Helena. She got laid constantly. These young men were so easy to defeat, so easy to outsmart, out-fuck, and bend to her supreme will. She yearned for a real challenge. And this young man her granddaughter married seemed like a real challenge, a true piece of prey. The type of young man that got her wet with anticipation. Helena had a sixth sense about her, as if she knew which guys she would be fucking. And even without meeting him, she felt that connection immediately. He was just so fuckable.

Heather was the only thing in-between Helena and Derek. She was the only thing in the way of Helena's bliss. Helena knew, because as soon as she saw Derek, she felt that shiver in her spine. That hardening of nipples. That soaking of her thong. All of Helena's experience of reading people, of reading men, of sensing that something more in people... Helena knew his big dick was the key needed to unlock the vault deep in her cunt where all those life-changing orgasms were held.

The problem was Heather. She was the lone obstacle. In a way, she wished she was a lesser woman, a woman more willing to throw that familial bond aside. In a way, she was jealous of how easily Jocelyn and Jackie could brush Heather aside to indulge themselves.

Times had changed. Now, girls like Jocelyn and Jackie were... embraced. Sluts were in style! Filthy nasty sluts like those fit right in nowadays. Helena knew that if she had born a few decades later, what she had done in her younger days would not be reviled, it would be celebrated. Helena would be a hero to aspiring young sluts, not rejected for her filthy desires. Helena would be worshipped for what she had done.

Nowadays, it was a sign of weakness to let anything get between a slut and the man she wanted. You were looked down at, not because you were a slut who wanted some supposedly unattainable dick. No, you were looked down at because you failed. Women nowadays accept it when a man cheats. They accept it when a man cheats on his loved one with someone much hotter. They accept it, because they understand why the man did it. They empathize with his plight, his sacrifice of being tied down to lesser pussy when there was so much good pussy out there. Women don't care about the woman who was the cheated party. Women nowadays were hypercompetitive. They would offer kind words when one of their friends were cheated on, but they would understand why she was cheated on and that she, in some way, had it coming.

Women had no barriers anymore. They would go after any man they wanted. It didn't matter if that man was single, dating or married. It didn't matter to a slut if the man they wanted was dating a total stranger or the slut's best friends. It didn't matter to sluts anymore if the man was family! It didn't matter if it was by marriage or by blood, sluts did not let those barriers stop them anymore. Helena had seen it herself.

Helena had glimpsed at this lifestyle. She had thoroughly explored her collection of pornography and glimpsed at depths of sex she had never dreamed of. She had grown addicted to watching it. It was a glimpse at the type of things the old her would have done. If she had continued down the path she was going down, she no doubt would have ended up like one of those evil sluts she watched in those videos. But she didn't become one of those women. She had walked away and chosen to evolve her mind, body and spirit.

So imagine her disappointment, that after all these years of trying to be a better person, a more complete, modern woman, that when she finally returned to a normal lifestyle, she was in many ways out-of-date. A relic from the past. Sure, she still had lots of sex, but she knew that the pleasure she got paled in comparison to the pleasures that more modern sluts, the sluts with no barriers, did. She knew deep down that Jocelyn and Jackie were coming harder than she was. And it was infuriating because she knew she was a better fuck than either of those two. She had a better body and she knew she could fuck circles around those girls. But she was stuck in the past and unwilling to change.

Helena had to evolve once more. Either evolve or get left in the dust by lesser sluts. And unfortunately for those lesser sluts, Helena was very good at evolving.

Helena was shaken from her thoughts by the elevator doors opening. She stepped out and let the married couple follow. Helena again took Heather's head and guided her along. And for the first time, Helena looked at her granddaughter with resentment.

Helena loved Heather with all her heart. She hated the cold shoulder that Jocelyn and Jackie gave Heather, so Helena vowed to be there whenever Heather needed her. If she needed advice, a shoulder to lean on, or just a loving family environment, Heather came to her. Heather idolized her grandmother. Helena was her granddaughter's favorite person in the whole world. And Helena adored her. She was such a sweet bright girl. In many ways, Helena was jealous of Heather. Heather was not a girl driven by her base urges. She used her brains, her wit and charm. But the other women in her family, Helena, Jocelyn, and Jackie were all driven by their urges, their unchecked egos and needy cunts. The world would be a better place with less Jackies and more Heathers. But Helena knew the truth, that women like Jackie succeeded over women like Heather. People, men and women, preferred a pretty face. Preferred and respected a woman with a hot body over a woman who did not have one. Sure, all women kinda hate each other. Women especially hate gorgeous women, but there will always be that begrudging acceptance of their sexiness and superiority. Most women do not respect women who are not as sexy as they are. Women love having another woman around that they can compare themselves to and come out against ahead.

Some women are turned on by that sense of superiority. They use that superiority to add an extra layer of kink in the bedroom. All these young women nowadays were fucking hard, bashing other women, and having screaming orgasms in the process. That superiority over another woman adds that extra edge, the edge that separates simply good orgasms from monumental ones.

That was the edge Helena needed.

Heather was the only thing in the way from Helena having that life-changing orgasm. Helena knew the only way to get that elusive cum is to cast aside her beloved, favorite granddaughter, humiliate her and steal her man. She knew that was her path to bliss, but did Helena have that in her? Could she so callously cast aside that love she had for Heather, those sweet, familial moments, in favor of the dark delights of the flesh? Could she use those moments of weakness Heather shared to her to her advantage? Use that weakness against her? Could she be so cold and ruthless to abuse that closeness so she could just cum a lot harder? Did Helena have to become that evil bitch she used to be just to have crazy orgasms like she used to? Could she render her many years of training and discipline redundant and useless? Could she move on from punishing herself over all the evil things she used to do? Or would she embrace that old way of life, embrace the evil slut she had buried deep down and unleash that demoness upon the world again, that demoness that had done so much damage? Would that make her cum harder? Do evil women cum harder than regular women? Would Helena find out the answer to all the questions? The answer was entirely in her hands.

Helena was lost in her thoughts as she approached the door. Didn't she deserve this? Didn't she deserve to be getting royally screwed by her granddaughter's husband's great, big cock? All those young bitches were bashing other girl's and having crazy orgasms. That was her technique! She practically invented that technique! She had done that years ago, in her younger super-slutty years. She had started bashing wives and girlfriends while fucking their big-dicked men to a screaming orgasm years ago, in her teenage years. She had perfected that technique through years of practice. She had finally abandoned that technique after realizing how dangerous of a weapon it was, especially in the hands of someone as dangerously sexy as herself. So it was infuriating to see women stealing her moves and stealing the orgasms that should have been hers. Stealing the orgasms that she had given up because she wanted to be a better person. She had done the right thing. And now here she was, dying for one good fuck, dying for that powerful orgasm that had eluded her for so, so long.

As she opened the door and let Heather and Derek inside, she stared at Derek like no grandmother should stare at her granddaughter's husband. She could see how this would play out. How it would play it out if Helena submitted to her darker urges. Helena could see herself on the bed, nude, riding Derek's dick, his hands overflowing with her copious breast flesh as he squeezed them, never getting enough. Heather would be passed out on the floor, essentially ceding her hubby to her sexy grandmother, practically begging Helena to steal her hunky husband. And steal him she would. She would destroy that young man. Destroy him. He was practically a virgin. He didn't know what he would be in for with her. He just assumed she was his wife's shockingly attractive grandmother. He didn't realize she was a voracious, unyielding hurricane of sex, a conqueror of men, a destroyer of lives. The bane of marriages all over the world. The final landing place of hundreds of men's hard earned fortunes. And Derek was simply a boy. If her and Derek collided, if his fat dick and her small, tight mature twat were to meet in heated sexual union, in unbridled, uninhibited mating... if she unleashed the demoness upon him, he would never be the same again.

The world would never be the same again.

A man who spent a night with Helena Cline couldn't just walk away. Couldn't just forget about her and move on. Fucking Helena Cline was the high point of many men's lives. Men practically went to war over her, competing, trying to amass the most wealth just to attract the gold digger. Many jobs were lost, many men were ruined just so one rich guy could get fucked by a smoking hot blonde. But, none of that mattered to Helena. None of those ruined lives bothered her at all. It wasn't her problem. All that mattered was that, in the end, all that money those men fought over, money amassed through years of hard work by thousands of people, ended up in her bank account.

Men young and old were obsessed with her. Men rich and powerful lived their lives unfulfilled, simply due to the fact that they could not lock down Helena. It seemed like no man could. Even the men who she stole money from, the men whose lives she ruined and taken their fortunes, even those men, deep down, still looked warmly upon the nights they spent together. They still got turned on by the evil slut who had destroyed their lives, ruined their marriage, and taken their money. They still fantasized of her and they all knew deep down, after spending so long trying to rebuild themselves and their lives, that if they met her again they would let her steal it all again, just for one more night with her. They would let her lead them to their doom, again.

Helena kept her hand on the doorknob as she surveyed the married couple in the room. She watched as Heather clung to her husband as she stumbled drunkenly. God, she was fucking begging to have her man stolen from her. She was a fucking prime target. It was a wonder it hadn't happened already. It was a wonder that some intrepid, ambitious slut hadn't wormed her way into the groom's pants. Helena must have spooked them off. She had tried to keep a close eye on Derek. She knew Jackie and Jocelyn were out to get him, so she tried to run interference to prevent either of those two from getting their hands on him. She had kept her eyes on a few others as well. Like Audrey Clarke. And that hotel hostess, Kaitlyn.

Helena was resisting, but it was so fucking hard. Just the thought of stealing her favorite granddaughter's hunky husband made her shiver with lust. The thought was intoxicatingly sweet. An exquisite pleasure. If either Derek or Heather looked back, they would notice her hardening nipples through her dress. But they didn't. Helena fought off the urge to take over proceedings. She just wanted to walk away and leave the happy couple intact.

Then Heather spoke up.

"Grandma, whyrrrreee you shtill here?" Heather slurred. "Ishttt's gettingggg late and I wanna fuck my hubby."

Derek blushed in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. She's not herself." Derek said, mortified at how Heather was behaving. Heather started trying to kiss him, but he backed away, not wanting this to happen with Helena in the room.

But Helena... Helena got pissed. She had been ready to leave, but Heather was begging to be destroyed. Begging for it. Helena chewed on her bottom lip. She had to be strong, to resist her dark urges.

"C'mon, Grandma! Leave! I need shhtoo get fucked!" Heather called out.

Helena saw red. Her pulse roared in her ears. Helena snapped. For the first time in a very long time, the darkness inside her was reaching the surface.

The demoness was begging to be unleashed.

Helena shut the door firmly and locked it. She turned to the married couple and walked towards them, her heels clicking on the floor.

"I'm surprised, my dear, that you are so eager for it." Helena said, walking up to Heather. "Cause I seem to remember, not so long ago, you were just so, so worried that you would never lose your virginity. That you would never be good at sex."

"Grandma!" Heather said, hurt that her Grandmother had spilled such an intimate secret.

"Oh, since you're being so open around me dear I thought I could do the same." Helena said, chastising her the way she would when she was younger. Not with harsh punishments and screaming matches, but with shaming and embarrassment.

Heather couldn't find the words to reply, she just stammered. Annoyed, Helena grabbed her granddaughter by the arm.