To the Last Drop

The old man's shoulders lifted in an exaggerated shrug, sending the toddler into a fit of giggles and squirmy wiggles.

Yvette was normally put off by her great-great-grandfather. Time had not been kind to him. She'd seen pictures of him as a young man but she couldn't reconcile the pictures with the hideously ugly old man he now was.

However, at this moment the wide twisted smile on his grizzled old face, revealing the gaps of two missing teeth, and shining merry eyes maybe didn't make him look younger or less ugly, but made him jolly and human.

At that moment her fear and revulsion of him left her like water down a drain and she returned his smile with a radiant one of her own, making him catch his breath at her incredible beauty, no matter that she was sleep deprived, disheveled, soaked in breast milk and probably hadn't taken a shower in several days.

"I don't mind, but this one's a handful," he finally said, tickling the toddler's feet and sending her into another round of squirming giggles.

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It became their routine. Every day, from ten to noon the old man met her at her front door and either held the infant while Yvette romped with her toddler or vice versa.

Every day they got closer and closer. Yvette talked about her brief life while Grampa regaled her with story after story of his wife and their children, of his brief time as a soldier and of his life in the farm.

After a few hours outside she'd invite him in and he'd spend the day helping her with the kids and the house. Every day, he stayed a little longer and every day, they learned more and more about each other.

Yvette didn't know at what point she stopped covering herself when nursing her baby. Probably on the day she'd fallen asleep.

She'd leaned her head back against her rocking chair and closed her eyes after switching her baby to her other boob, listening to Grampa's deep gravelly voice as he recounted a funny story. She didn't realize she'd unclipped the nursing cup from her bra, pulled away her shirt, and pressed her baby against her swollen aching boob. Unaware that she'd left her other heavy breast bare to the old man's sharp-eyed gaze.

A fleeting thought of needing to pump crossed her tired mind before she drifted off to sleep.

Grampa stopped talking and watched as she nodded off. The baby's lips unlatched from the large thick nipple and her head tilted back as she fell asleep as well. He turned his head and noticed the toddler had rolled herself into a tight little ball on the couch and was also fast asleep, worn out by her outdoor escapades.

I think I bored the poor little darlins' to sleep, he thought to himself.

He stooped, carefully pulled the sleeping infant from her mother, lifted her to his bulbous nose and sniffed her butt. Looks like we need a quick diaper change, he thought. He changed her diaper and carried her to her bassinet. He did the same for the toddler, and then carried her to her bed.

Once the kids were tucked in, he stood over his great-great-granddaughter, staring down at her enormous milk-swollen breasts. They were flushed red, round and had a tracery of dark bulging veins on their surface. The dark pink nipples were almost as thick as his thumb, the areolas were slightly larger than a silver dollar, lighter than her thick nipples and faded to blend with her skin. There was a steady stream of pale milk oozing from each nipple, soaking into her clothes.

After a while, his eyes slid up to examine her face. It was odd and contradictory to see such a beautiful, innocently angelic face on such a voluptuously feminine body.

Her large liquid blue eyes were closed but he could picture them clearly in his mind's eye. They were wide and innocent as a doe's. Her face was slim and determined, her lips were wide and full, her nose was long and straight and almost pinched at the tip, her cheeks were high and her neck was long and slender.

She was absolutely beautiful. He hated to admit it, but she was lovelier than his late wife at her age.

Normally after nursing the baby, Yvette disappeared for about half an hour and pumped her milk into measured plastic baggies then put them in the freezer. He snuck a look inside once and was amazed at how much frozen breast milk was in there. The girl made a lot of milk... A LOT.

He stared down at the sleeping girl. Her long straight light brown hair was tousled and tangled and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she was as beautiful as a new dawn and she looked so much like his Alice that his heart lurched in his chest in agony at the remembered pain of her loss.

Alice had been well-endowed but nothing like this girl. She was in a league of her own, he thought, letting his eyes wander down to the large bare breasts again.

He was harder than he'd been in decades and his mouth watered as he wondered what her milk tasted like, how those enormous breasts would feel like in his hands.

He pictured himself suckling on a fat nipple as it dribbled a steady stream of milk before his astonished eyes. He caught himself as he leaned down to follow the impulse.

"What the fuck am I doing," he asked himself.

His wrinkled old face was so close to her breast that he could feel the heat coming from it.

Wait a second, the thought, concerned. Why is she so hot? It almost feels as if she had a fever.

He straightened and put the back of his hand against her forehead. The girl was burning up.

What the fuck?!

He went to the kitchen, dug around for a towel, soaked it with cold water from the fridge and went back to her.

Yvette woke from a feverish dream with a strangled cry at the feel of the icy cold rag on the back of her neck.

She straightened with a groan and looked around for her kids but saw Grampa standing over her looking concerned and holding an ice cold rag to the back of her neck.

"What the...?" she started to say.

The old man interrupted.

"Don't worry, I put them to bed, but you're not doing so good."

She fell back on the chair, sending it gliding back and forth before stopping it when she felt the motion begin to make her queasy.

"I need to pump," she said weakly. "It happens when I get too full."

"My tits make way too much milk for some reason."

She stood on unsteady legs and immediately sat back down.

"Stay there," Grampa told her. "Tell me where it is and I'll get it for you."

Before long he held the device in his gnarled hands, unfolded a conveniently close snack table and placed it before her after plugging it in.

She didn't bother covering herself.

He sat down on the couch next to her, trying not to draw attention to his bulging pants. His gleaming eyes followed the girl's every motion and his gnarled hands unconsciously loosened and clenched, loosened and clenched.

She pressed the four-inch-wide silicone breast shield, the cone-shaped part that made a seal, to her breast and pressed a button on the machine. Within minutes, the sound of the machine's pulsing hissing hum filled the room and the old man watched in fascination and lust as she filled bag after bag with cream-colored milk.

When she finished, he noticed the rubbery part of the breast pump that sealed against her breast like a child's latching mouth, had left a raised red imprint on her pale skin when she pulled it off. He hated seeing it. It made him angry to see the lifeless rubber mar her perfect skin.

He watched and lusted, tracing his eyes across every perfect luscious inch of those two enormous rosy-tipped, tear-shaped breasts. They were round, full and glistening wet with milk.

The old man's eyes also admired the young mother. She was flushed bright red. Was she still feverish? Did she have some sort of infection? Maybe her breasts were clogged. No. That couldn't be it, he clearly saw her milk flowing freely without signs of obstruction.

Yvette knew she should've covered herself or left to pump in another room as she usually did, but she did neither. She straightened and pushed her shoulders back, making her enormous breasts look even bigger.

She'd glanced down and saw the effect she'd had on her great-great-grandfather and felt the arousal she normally felt but it was magnified a thousand fold when she saw the massive bulge in his pants.

Butterflies battered at the walls of her stomach as she dared to bare herself to a man other than her husband. She felt the heat of her breasts flow to her core and then down to her loins. She felt feverishly hot.

The way the old man stared at her was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Tyler didn't like touching her breasts or having sex at all while she lactated. They'd tried it several times, but her desire had fizzled away when she saw the look of disgust in his eyes when milk dribbled from her nipples. She knew his desire faded as well when she felt his member soften before he rolled away in frustration.

He'd tried to hide the look or revulsion, but she'd seen it. It was there. She'd felt his lack of desire. Now he barely touched her... and she was so horny all the time. With the kids being so needy, she had no time to satisfy her own aching need.

The machine continued its pulsing sucking hum, stimulating her nipple and she looked deep into her great-great-grandfather's eyes. She saw no revulsion, no distaste, only admiration and a lust so intense and visceral as he stared at her bared breasts that the butterflies in her stomach turned into battering Mack trucks and the world seemed to shift and pulse around her as her blood pressure spiked.

It felt like being in a roller coaster and plunging down from its highest peak.

She desperate wanted to reach under her loose-fitting shorts and masturbate herself to screaming orgasm. Actually, she was desperate to get on her back and feel Tyler's weight on top of her, to feel his hard member inside her fucking her to orgasm.

Then she remembered that look... that look of distaste and revulsion on his young handsome face when he looked at her.

Her eyes drifted down from the old man's intently staring eyes to the bulge in his pants again. She didn't want to admit it, but it was an impressive bulge.

Yvette had only ever been with one man, but she'd always been curious about other men, though never curious about Grampa, at least not before today.

She stared down at her great-great-grandfather's throbbing bulge and wondered what it looked like. She wondered if it was as wrinkled as the skin of his face. She wondered if it was as knobby and twisted as his age-spotted hands. She wondered how hard it was, how it would feel inside her.

She knew she shouldn't be thinking these things, they were wrong at so many levels and he was so old and UGLY.

Her firm round ass squirmed on the soft cushioned rocking chair and she squeezed her thighs together, sending shooting lances of pleasure from her loins as the action briefly stimulated her clitoris. She was horny beyond measure. Horny beyond anything she'd ever experienced.

The sight of the old man's eyes devouring her tits sent brief flashing images into her fuzzy brain of his face hovering over her while his old cock sank into her dripping wet pussy.

She closed her eyes and shook her head as if in denial, trying to shake away the disturbing thoughts, trying to shake away her arousal, trying to shut out the world around her.

What the hell am I thinking, goddamn it, she screamed in her head. You're a happily married woman with two kids for Christ sakes! He's your fucking great-great-grandfather! Get a hold of yourself! He's 84 and you just turned 18 and you only gave birth a few weeks ago. Stop it. Stop it.

She kept her eyes closed and took several deep calming shuddery breaths. She felt herself eventually begin to relax, felt her ardor cool.

What if she kept her eyes closed and pretended it was Tyler, she wondered offhandedly.

NO. STOP IT. STOP IT!

Her eyes snapped open when she felt something cover her chest.

She looked up at the old man who looked back at her with understanding as he draped a baby blanket over her bare heaving breasts. She clutched it to her. The lust was still there in his eyes but it was smothered under concern, understanding and something else she couldn't quite define. There was no words she could use to describe that look in his deep set dark eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What could she possibly say?

His twisted old hand caressed her hair then he stood, the enormous bulge in his pants nearly brushing her flushed red face, and left the house.

She let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

She finished pumping, wiped herself off, slathered a special cream on her nipples and secured the cups of her maternity bra in place. After putting the filled milk storage bags in the freezer, she cleaned up and went to check on the kids. They were sleeping peacefully.

This is the time, she thought, determined to rub herself to orgasm. She laid on the bed, covered herself with the blanket and just as she was about to slip her hand under the elastic band holding up her loose-fitting shorts, her toddler once again ran into the room

She wanted to scream with frustration. Instead, she smiled at her rambunctious child and got up to fix her lunch.

Grampa usually stayed longer, giving her a chance to shower and sometimes even take an hour long nap. She hadn't realized how much she'd come to depend on him in the short time they'd been there.

Thinking of the old man made her uneasy.

Yvette didn't know how she'd look him in the eye again after baring her big milky tits in front of him so brazenly. She was mortified and embarrassed at what she'd done, at the racy thoughts that had gone through her head while he sat watching her. She felt disgust and shame at her reaction, at the knowledge that she'd been a hairsbreadth from acting on her base sexual urges.

What the hell happened, she wondered.

Her exhausted mind pondered whether she'd always had a thing for ugly old, OLD men.

She thought back to her interactions with older men in her life and was amazed to discover that she could recall each and every one of them.

From the gray-haired old man ringing her out at the local 7-Eleven, the ancient greeter in the blue vest who got close enough to "accidentally" brush her ass as she entered Walmart, the old man who stared at her chest so brazenly in the grocery store, to the small group of ancient men in a restaurant who'd turned to look at her when she entered and didn't take their eyes off her until after she sat down.

Feeling the old men's eyes on her had made her feel nervous and jittery. It had also felt as if a herd of elephants had been tromping around in her belly.

At the time, she'd acted disgusted and made disparaging comments, but afterwards her eyes had lingered just a split second longer than they should of.

Had she misconstrued her reaction? Had she convinced herself it was disgust rather than attraction?

Front and center had always been her great-great-grandpa, the oldest and ugliest of them all. She wondered if she'd stayed away and acted scared of him to hide her attraction. Or maybe she did think he was disgusting since he was so ugly and the smell of old cheese, cow manure and stale farts lingered around him like a miasma.

She was so tired, she found it hard to think straight.

She felt herself flush with heat and wondered when she'd finally be able to sneak in a private moment to ease herself. She wondered if she could rub away the disturbing humiliating thoughts and images that flooded her mind's eye by fantasizing about her husband. But the image of the old man's burning lust-filled eyes stayed with her, no matter how much she tried to dispel it or replace him with her husband.

Constantly attending to the children kept her mind occupied, but that night was another story.

When Tyler got home that night, he quietly showered and went to bed.

She tried to arouse him, fondling his member and even throwing off the sheets, pulling down his pajamas and underwear and sucking on his floppy member but he just groaned with exhaustion and pushed her away.

"Not now, baby," he groaned. "I'm all done in."

Sighing in frustration, she wiped her mouth, rolled onto her back and stared up at the dark ceiling. Within seconds, Tyler was fast asleep, breathing long and deep, snoring softly.

Now's as good a time as any, she thought resignedly, pulling her night dress up and slipping her fingers under her underwear.

Then of course, the baby started crying. It was time for her to eat.

She slapped a hand on the bed in frustration, rolled out of bed and went to take care of her baby.

When she finally went back to bed, the last things she thought of before she drifted off to sleep were her great-great-grandfather's fierce hungry eyes boring into her from the darkness, as intense as an eagle's predatory glare.

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Her dreams were filled with hard liver-spotted hands groping her, caressing her, fierce old eyes piercing into her soul.

She stood in only a pair of tight jean shorts in front of Grampa's house. He enormous boobs were full and heavy with milk. They ached and her nipples itched. She looked at the large old house both dreading and needing to see the old man open the front door and step out.

In her dream, she wanted him to see her. She wanted to see the look in his old eyes as they devoured her, flicking black and forth, up and down, never losing their focus on her, barely blinking, as he memorized every inch of her.

The scene changed and she watched from above as she threw a leg over Tyler and felt his thick hard member grind against the walls of her hot tightly-clutching pussy, feeling his hands squeeze her milk-filled tits and his lips latch on to her nipple as she churned on top of him.

She felt her vagina squeeze his member like a vice, her body swaying, rocking and twisting on top of him with desperate passion.

She closed her eyes, smiled a wide joyous smile and reveled in the sensations.

Suddenly, a strong acrid smell of old cheese, cow manure and stale farts filled her nostrils.

When she opened her eyes she saw she was on top of Grampa, not Tyler.

The hands on her swollen tits were skeletal, covered in light brown spots and the fingernails were thick and yellow. The lips suckling on her nipple were not full and young, but the long hard cock plunging deep inside her filled her so perfectly. Her breasts let down and she felt warm milk flow from her other nipple to bathe their surging bodies.

Yvette cried out. She couldn't tell if it was in denial, horror, victory or joy. Even in her dreams she was confused about her body's reaction to her great-great-grandfather.

She made to get off him but the twisted bony hands encircling her tiny waist held her in place with a strength she couldn't possibly resist.

She felt suction at her nipple and looked down to see the grizzled old man's cheeks drawn in as he suckled at her breast, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed her creamy milk. She felt his tongue flicking her nipple from side to side and up and down as he sucked, arousing and exciting her.

Holding his shoulders, her numbed mind resolved, she rose high on her knees intending to plunge herself down on his iron-hard member, frantic to spear herself to her very soul on the old man's madly-pumping cock.

The pressure inside her built and built.

Yvette's toes curled, there was a blooming heat deep in her belly, her nipples burned, and her clit began to tingle. An orgasm was coming... a monumental, mind-blowing, heart-stopping orgasm of all orgasms was about to explode within her.

"Ooof," she wheezed as a solid weight landed on her stomach.

Pain replaced pleasure, the urge to cum disappeared as if had never been, and her eyes opened wide in pain and surprise.