The Mountie's Grandfather

He rubbed the stuff around a bit with a single finger . . . then -- Hoop! -- that finger sank into my manhole! It was so slimy, it slid in rather easily, and when Grandfather slid the finger in and out, I was astonished at the thrills that came from my backdoor!

Then I felt his massive cock begin to push at me. I tried to pull away, but too late -- "No, Grandpa, wait a minute!" -- with a mighty push, his peckerhead popped through into me, and I couldn't hold back a scream of pain. But I was so drunk with lust, so overpowered by Grandfather's maleness, in some psychological short-circuit, the pain twisted somehow into . . . pleasure!

Grandfather was gouging open my arsehole, ripping me open. But it was also wonderful! When his pace slowed to more deliberate, more forceful strokes, the pain lessened, and I drew pleasure from the impossible stretch of my sphincter muscle as he spread it wider and wider.

I was submitting. Somehow Grandfather's fucking was about his power over me. The Alpha wolf. My submission in his pack grew more complete as he pumped me again and again, spreading my arsehole, thrilling me with new sensations. I felt oddly happy about that -- providing Grandfather with proof of his power. He's fucking me like a wolf. The Alpha wolf. I'm his bitch.

God help me, I liked the idea. I began to meet his thrusts, pushing my bitch-hole back against him as he fucked me, shoving him deeper and deeper. I realized how profoundly he was in charge.

That screw was for him. Just one thing mattered there -- his pleasure. I was his hole, something for his use. I clenched my anus around him even though it increased my pain, anything to give him more pleasure. My Grandfather was The Man.

He finally pulled out, and I fell forward, panting and sweating, feeling his slime drooling from my poor rectum . "Damn, Grandpa. You fucked me to death."

He didn't say a word. He just stood up, reached down and took my hand, then pulled me to my feet. With a shrug of his head, he instructed me to pick up the beach-towel and his housecoat. Still holding my hand, he led me back to the house. I'd never felt so completely "owned" before. Even sex with Bite was just an interlude, something to get my jollies off with.

Grandfather's dong had tamed me. I wanted nothing so much as to have him do me again, and at the same time I knew my place was no higher than to please him, just an eager hole for that magnificent royal lance .

On our way back to the house, we passed both the gardeners. At first I was embarrassed to be walking hand-in-hand with a man, even my grandfather, but when I spotted their knowing smiles, suddenly I realized the truth: they were members of the pack. I glowed with pride. I was the Wolf's current mate.

Once back in the house, Grandfather pulled down the tiny red excuse for a swimsuit, and I stared worshipfully as his mighty cock grew back to Fighting Trim. "Go get on the bed," he ordered .

I hurried upstairs, stripping off my boxers as I went. I hurried into his bedroom and lay back on his bed, excited to be serving Grandfather again.

When he walked into the bedroom, his giant dong swung back and forth like a construction derrick in a hurricane, and goose-bumps thrilled me all over. He lifted my legs and pushed them back to my shoulders. I felt as though I won some kind of wonderful prize -- Grandpa's mammoth cock sank deep into guts, and although the pain was still stabbing and sharp, I was much too excited and horny to care.

"You want this, boy?" Grandfather's voice was smooth and confident.

"Yes." My voice, though, was a croak.

"I didn't hear you. Do . . . you . . . want . . .this?"

"Yes! Oh, God, YES!!"

Grandfather gripped my sweaty torso in a grasp like a wrestler's hold, getting greater leverage as he lunged forward, deeper and deeper. "Beg me, you little bitch!" The growl was a voice I didn't recognize. This was Grandfather? The man who played Santa Claus at Christmastime? The man who dandled me on his knee?

"Beg me to fuck you!"

I surrendered . "Oh, God, yeah! Grandpa, do me! Your cock feels so damned good! Oh, yeah, make me your bitch! Grandpa, fuck me like I'm your bitch!"

As he lunged back and forth in me with that big, slimy tool, I was like a ragdoll, a slab of meat there for his enjoyment. He shoved me here and there, manoeuvring me as he wished, however he wanted, whatever felt best to him.

My needs, my pleasure, even my pain didn't seem to concern him. Holding onto my hips, pulling me back to meet his fierce, powerful deep-dicking thrusts, his cock was going too far into me, and I knew he was rearranging my guts -- he was form-fitting my bowels to accommodate him. I would forever be his fuck-toy.

I had the stiffest erection of my life, aroused and on fire from my own submission and by this man -- whom I once knew as Grandpa -- and his sexual ability and dominance. Oh, yes, the Alpha wolf. I was his eager, grateful cum-receptacle.

If I had not been so over-the-top turned on, I might have been a little scared -- soon the only thing I could think of was his huge cock jabbing in and out of my arse. I felt every vein along its length as it slammed in and out. As he pulled out, I could feel the thick head come back against my arse-ring, and I clamped down with my a-hole, tightening my sphincter around his big chugger to give him greater pleasure.

And giving him pleasure gave me pleasure! As I tightened my hole, the stretched skin of my arsehole was dragged back by his pistoning cock, then stretched and dragged the opposite way with his in-stroke. The pain/pleasure was almost too much to bear.

Yet I was there not for my pleasure but rather his, and he was building toward his release. The added friction of my gripping arse-ring sped him toward his orgasm. He lunged and slammed into me, harder than I could imagine. I whimpered . I had learned to live for his pleasure, and I knew he would be cumming in me soon.

I could not explain why, but I would get a great deal of satisfaction from his seed in me. I wanted to give him pleasure, yes, but I wanted to feel his jism fill me, I wanted him to impregnate me, I wanted to be his sperm receptacle.

Suddenly he pulled all the way out, and with all his might punched that amazing baby-maker back into me deeper than ever before. By then I was screaming, telling him to screw me harder, telling him I was his bitch, his fuck-hole, his whore, his slut. The very air was electric! Grandpa gripped my ribs painfully, and my vision started to go a little dark. And it happened.

I could feel it: Grandfather's sperm surged up deep inside my bowels, a hot fountain or his boiling lava surging, inseminating, invading through my whole body. As his sperm filled me, his masculine, animal essence saturated me to the core. This is the essence that generated my father! This is the Basic, the Core-Jism! I could hardly breathe; I saw everything through a ruby haze of lust.

I felt my thought processes changing. Nothing would ever be the same. Grandfather marked me as his territory, his property, his fuck-slave. I knew my place -- at the end of his dong, thrusting over him, his hole.

His wild lunges skidded me across the bed, and finally my head slipped backward off the edge. As my head dropped back, I saw the door on the other side of the room -- it stood open. And upside-down I saw two naked figures.

Suddenly alert, I opened my eyes wider and focused. Could those upside-down figures be my father and my son?? Ohmigod They saw me! Saw me being fucked!!

But they were naked, both of them! Jesus, am I dreaming? Is this some sort of fuck-dream fantasy-nightmare??

Grandfather continued sticking it to me, slower then as his orgasm had passed and he was enjoying the afterglow. I twisted in his grip, enough to bring my head around to look at the figures in the door. Oh, God! It was my father and my son, both of them nude! My father stood behind my son, his hips lurching at my son's arse. My son's cock stood out proudly like a regimental flagpole, hard and long. And bouncing: Jesus Christ, my father is fucking my son as they stand there!

I wanted to say something, but I was speechless. I mean, what can I say in that situation, eh. My grandfather was fucking me, so I could say little about my father fucking my son. This must be the definition of "fuck-drunk."

I knew -- God, did I know -- that I had just been tamed. And by whom. When Grandfather finally pulled out of my arse, I squeezed my sphincter tightly. I wanted his sperm swimming in me, I wanted them to lodge themselves in me. I wanted Grandfather's sperm to become a part of me. To go into my bones. To ferment in my balls.

Grandfather crawled off me, off the bed, and stood up. "Never thought we'd get around to you, eh. Slipped through my fingers. When you were old enough, you were off to the training, off to here, off to there, never around long enough."

I looked at my father in wonder, and he smiled at me. "Yep, Pa got me when I was 18. Thought he'd get you, too, but you slipped through the cordon." He was still butt-humping my son. "He got Brian, here, though."

Brian looked at me with lust-glazed eyes. "God, you were great, Dad. Grandfather's cock is a marvel, eh?"

Grandfather reached down and grasped my third-generation cock, which leaped and stiffened like he plugged it into a wall-socket. "Get over there," he growled, "and suck off Brian! He's yet to get his."

"What . . . my own . . . " But the huge, ancestral cock was bobbing near my face, dripping with Grandfather's jism and my juices. Like a zombie, I leaned forward and kissed it in obedience. Then I scrambled to kneel before my boy.

Brian let out a low, soft moan, and so did I. His crank was an exact duplicate of mine. And it suddenly hit me that I wanted this experience and had fantasized about it for a long time -- maybe never enough to let it surface to a daytime conjecture -- but simmering under the surface.

Brian was big. He grew into a muscular kid. He stood 185cm (6'1") and I guess a good 89kg (195 lbs.) He had the family shoulders, big and broad like Grandpa's.

Hadn't seen his cock in many years. It was good and big. His shaft was ridged and veined like mine, but seeing it was oddly like looking at my own, but up close and from another angle. It was strange and exciting. Spunk dribbled from the tip, so I dabbed the tip of my tongue into it and playfully pulled away, drawing a string of silvery fluid between my tongue and his cockhead.

"Ah, Dad," he murmured . "I can't tell you how long I've been waiting for this day. Great-Grandfather laid me years ago, then Grandfather. I've been waiting a long time for you." Well, what the hell, here goes, eh. I dropped down, mouth open, to show him what I had been doing with my sexual free time since his mother ran off. I licked up more of the salty goo slithering from his piss-hole. I was proud -- my boy's cock throbbed hard from the excitement, hard and shiny with salty fluid. He's hot for me! I swirled my tongue along the staff, licking up more of the tangy stuff.

I gargled his penis in deep, guiding it down my throat. With my eyes closed, I played around the base of his tool with my tongue, and his hips lunged toward me as he moaned with pleasure, forcing more into my throat. It was so overwhelming, I shook like a leaf.

I manoeuvred him down onto the floor, and when I backed off momentarily, I glanced up. Brian looked back at me and licked his lips, in daze of lust. My son. Then his eyes closed tight, and I focused on the job at hand — deepthroating my boy!

Then Brian began to climax. I felt his warm fluid surging down my throat, and I hurriedly backed off so I could catch the rest in my mouth and taste it. The taste was wonderful, thrilling! Nothing like Bite's. Nothing like Grandfather's. As I sucked away, I stroked his young nut-sac, encouraging him to unload more.

It was important to me that his first blowjob from me was a good one; I wanted him to remember it as a mind-blower. It already was for me.

After his orgasm subsided, and our breathing returned to normal, Brian broke the silence. "Well, I guess I owe you, Dad." As I considered those words and looked around at the other naked men in the room, the possibilities of our situation sank in fully -- I fell back, jerking at my cock in a frenzy, surging into an orgasm born of the realization that my sexual world had just turned into a universe!

Over the mantelpiece in the ancestral home to this day is a photo of the four of us, wearing our Royal Canadian Mounted Police uniforms, the scarlet tunics with the brown leather belts and chest-straps, with the brown campaign hats, the blue riding breeches with the yellow stripe, and the tall boots. We are standing very close, one behind the other: my son is first at the far left. Close behind him and slightly to his left am I myself. Just behind me and slightly to my left is my father. Close behind him and slightly to his left is my grandfather.

What's not obvious is that each pair of the Navy blue riding breeches we're all wearing is an old, about-to-be-retired pair, and on Grandfather's order, each had the arse-end cut out of it.

What the picture doesn't show is that my grandfather's enormous cock is jammed up the arse of my father, his big cock is throbbing inside my contented backdoor, and my family pole is quivering in Brian's tight bum. Poor Brian: he's the one straining to conceal a fourth-generation hardon.