To the Last Drop

She was wide awake.

Goddamn it!

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Yvette's toddler had climbed onto the bed, took a running dive and landed elbows first on her mother's belly, knocking the wind out of her and waking her from a strange, maddeningly erotic dream.

The dream faded almost instantly, but it left her confused and still highly aroused.

She was gritty-eyed and groggy from the short, uneasy night's sleep.

And she hadn't had a chance to cum, not even in her goddamn dreams.

She was as confused, as tired and as sexually frustrated as ever.

Her husband had left for work early and her toddler took the opportunity to jump on her mother's stomach with a screech to get her attention, setting the newborn screaming in her wicker bassinet, her tiny arms and legs twitching spasmodically in anger and indignation.

Another day, Yvette thought with a resigned sigh.

She wondered if Grampa would stop by like he normally did or if that was all done, screwed up because of what happened the day before.

Had she teased him on purpose? Was she so desperately horny that she'd subconsciously tried to get her elderly Grampa to make a move on her? Would she had kicked and screamed? Tried to fight him off?

She was so confused. She was so fucking tired... and she was so goddamn horny.

If he showed up, what should she do?

How should she act?

What would HE do?

How would HE act?

As the morning progressed, she got more and more nervous and stressed. Enough that the children picked up on it and became even harder to handle.

She was sitting in the kitchen, staring off into space with the two children crying, one in a high chair and one in her arms, when Grampa's familiar loud aggressive knock echoed through the house.

Startled, Yvette nearly dropped her infant as she jumped out of her chair.

Her body shaking uncontrollably, heart hammering in her chest, her throat dry as a desert, she walked to the door and opened it wide.

Grampa.

He stood there eying her for a moment then shoved his hands in his pockets.

He was at a loss for what to say.

The young mother stood in the doorway with her hiccupping crying infant in one arm. She wore a thin pink robe that clung to her like a second skin. A sash synched her narrow waist but its top was wide open, exposing her large and heavy flushed breasts. They were oh so perfect.

Her usually merry eyes looked sunken and dull, her face, neck and chest were flushed bright red, her shoulders were hunched and her long fine hair was a tangled ratty mess. She looked feverish and worn down to a stub.

Her eyes were downcast as if she dreaded looking at him directly and her body language screamed frustration and exhaustion.

She stepped aside to give him room to enter.

He'd debated coming, imagining all kinds of scenarios but not a single one of them involved her answering the door with her glorious breasts bare to his amazed and admiring gaze.

He stepped inside nervously and turned to face her but no words came out. He just stood there with his mouth opening and closing like a landed fish while both of the children screamed for attention.

Yvette watched him for a moment and then walked to her rocking chair and pressed her baby's face to her boob. She rooted for the fat swollen nipple, found it, latched on and gulped contentedly, her little arms massaging her mother's huge breast as she fed.

Grampa watched as she looked down at the infant and saw the stress lines disappear from her face, the tenseness left her proud narrow shoulders and she let out a long and ponderous sigh as if releasing all her problems and worries.

"Grampa, could you please take care of her," she said pointing at the toddler squirming and bawling in her high chair. "I was kinda out of it this morning and haven't taken care of them."

She looked at him shamefaced.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

Concerned, the old man put the back of his hand to her forehead.

"You're burning up," he graveled roughly. "When was the last time you pumped?"

He knew that for some reason her body made way more milk than the baby needed and when her breasts were full she got feverish.

"Yesterday, I think," she said quietly. "I... I... after yesterday, I've felt kind of weird and then I didn't get much sleep last night."

The old man nodded turned to take care of the toddler. She was hungry, thirsty, dehydrated and tired from hours of constant crying.

He fixed her something to eat then went to check on Yvette as she ate.

Almost in the exact position as the day before, she and her baby were fast asleep on the rocking chair, her arms still cradling the child protectively.

When he turned to check on the toddler, he saw she was sprawled on the high chair's table with a mess of half chewed Cheerios and milk dribbling from her open mouth.

He cleaned up, changed the children's diapers, dressed them in dry clean clothes and put them to bed then he went to check on their mother.

Just as he had the day before, he found himself staring down at the sleeping young mother. Once again he marveled at her untarnished beauty, at how much she looked like his late wife and again his heart lurched in his chest at the remembered pain of losing his beloved.

His eyes wandered down to the large bare breasts, watching them rise and fall to the rhythm of her breathing.

He felt himself harden and again his mouth watered as he wondered what her milk tasted like, how much he'd love to manhandle those enormous milk-filled monsters.

His old twisted body trembled and shook powerfully at the force of his restraint.

Staring down at her, he pictured himself licking a fat nipple and after a heartbeat's hesitation, action followed impulse.

He leaned down and swiped a fat enticing nipple with his long wet tongue.

When he showed up at her door earlier, he'd expected her to chastise him, to curse him out, to tell him to stay away from her and her family, but instead she'd opened the door wide and let him feast his eyes on her naked breasts yet again.

Was she teasing him? Did want him to do something he shouldn't so she could cry rape? Was she trying to tell him something in the age-old woman's language no man understood? He didn't understand, but the moment he licked her hard fat nipple all the questions and objections faded away.

The taste was indescribable... sweet, with a hint of tart, a hint of salty, and a hint of nutty. There was a lot going on there and the eroticism of the moment sent a pleasant shiver down his old twisted spine.

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Yvette dreamed that she sat in her rocking chair.

Grampa stood over her, looking down at her huge naked tits, staring at them intently with his sharp flinty gaze.

She had no desire to cover herself. She wanted the old man to feast his eyes on her. She wanted to feel his old hands on her. Her nectar dripped liberally between her flowery petals to dampen the rocking chair's deep cushion at the naughtiness of exposing herself so blatantly to the hideous old man.

Her great-great-grandpa's ancient grooved and wrinkled old face was twisted in a horrifying scowl, reflecting an intense internal battle. The grooves on either side of his mouth were as cavernous as valleys, the deep wrinkles crisscrossing the folds and runnels of his dark weathered face and forehead made him look as ancient as the earth.

His large bulbous nose and enormous ears seemed to twitch as a series of expressions flitted quickly across his face like ghosts.

Suddenly, she saw him bend at the waist and then felt his hot wet tongue swipe her nipple from the bottom up.

She sucked in her breath at the sensation and squirmed her firm behind deeper into the rocking chair cushion. She'd felt his tongue on her nipple as if he'd actually done it for real and not in her dream.

Her areola puckered with thick bumpy goosebumps, her nipple hardened and an electric thrill shivered its way from her nipple to her belly, to her loins, leaving her clitoris tingling as if the old man's fat tongue had licked it rather than her nipple.

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Grampa straightened, expecting the girl to wake up and scream at his unwelcome touch, but all she did was slowly shake her head from side to side and squirm deeper into the rocking chair's thick cushion.

He put his hands on her shoulders, under the thin robe and kept them there.

The rocking chair swayed but nothing happened. He eased the robe off her shoulders and down her lean arms, expecting her to wake at his touch and careful motions, but all she did was gasp loudly when his old rough skin made contact with hers. She'd been holding her breath.

Her slim shoulders bare, he decided to see how far gone she was, how deeply asleep. He pulled her arms through the robe's sleeves and feasted his eyes on her bare and naked upper body.

She was absolutely glorious, fresh and vibrantly youthful in her beauty. She was voluptuous in all the right places and slim and feminine in all others. She had a body most men could only dream of and women would envy. Enormous tear-shaped breasts, narrow shoulders, tiny waist leading down to wide matronly hips meant to ease the difficulties of childbirth.

His eyes went lower.

Grampa reached down and pulled on the end of the sash holding the bottom part of her robe closed and held his breath as the knot pulled loose and the robe's light material fell heavily to either side of her shapely legs, revealing a thatch of untrimmed light brown pubic hair. The carpet matched the curtains.

Making no attempt at subtlety, he put his rough work-callused hands on her knees, spread her legs and slid his hands up her inner thighs slowly, marveling at the silky softness of her skin.

The rocking chair swayed.

He paused, expecting her to wake at his unsubtle touch and the sudden sway of her rocking chair, but she slept on, catatonic. Unaware of what was happening.

Getting down on creaking arthritic knees, the old man knelt between the lovely young mother's legs and ran his hands over her upper and outer thighs as well, drawing in a deep breath through his nose, inhaling the heady scent wafting up from her heated sex as he did so.

He drew his face closer to the moist thatch of brown hair and saw the dark pink lips of her outer labia poking through the hair. Again, he drew breath, inhaling her intoxicating womanly perfume, but this time when he let it out, he blew out, hot and damp, over her heated pussy. Oh, and it was heated, he could feel the heat coming from her body, it felt like he was kneeling in front of a furnace.

He saw her hips churn towards the source of the warmth bathing her loins. He looked up and saw her lovely face was bright red, sweaty and knotted in an expression of pain and pure unfiltered lust.

Her eyes looked slightly open but she didn't appear to be able to see.

Her plump lips were parted and she kept moistening her lips with the tip of her little pink tongue as she panted for breath.

Her enormous breasts quivered and swayed before his intensely penetrating glare. The mammoth jugs shone wet with sweat and there was a thick creamy drop of milk quivering at the end of each fat dark pink nipple.

His cock was harder than it had ever been. Hard enough to tear a fucking hole through his trousers!

In all his living years, he had never seen a more erotic sight or experienced a more erotic situation. No one, not even his wife of 65 years had ever drawn this intense of a sexual response from him, not even in his teenage years.

His heart hammered in his chest, his breath rasped through a dry throat, his stomach roiled, and his loins ached with a need so desperate it was all he could do to contain it. Hell, he didn't want to contain it. He couldn't or wouldn't... it didn't matter which.

The old man looked up at his great-great-granddaughter's milk-filled breasts with lust-glazed eyes.

Licking his lips, he straightened and gripped one of those perfect tear-shaped boobs on both sides, sealed his lips over the hot fat nipple quivering before him, squeezed both hands together, drew in his withered cheeks and sucked hard.

He felt strange hard bumps under the skin of her breasts. His great great granddaughter's engorged breasts were hard and swollen in places and the flushed skin looked shiny and stretched.

From past experience, he knew the lobes in her breasts that produced breast milk were over-full and probably near to bursting. Either her baby wasn't eating enough or the girl's body was making an overabundance of milk, regardless of her baby's needs.

Hot creamy milk jetted from her nipple, flooding his mouth and hitting his palate like a wrecking ball. He scrubbed her nipple and bumpy areola with his tongue while sucking deep, gulping the hot milk as quickly as it filled his mouth. It was creamy, sweet with hints of salt, tang and a strange almost nutty element. It was altogether heavenly.

It was like nothing he'd ever tasted, nothing like what he remembered when his own sweet wife had nursed their children and shared their milk with him.

Yvette was unknowingly nursing her great-great-grandpa.

She groaned loudly, scooched her body down on the swaying rocking chair, planted her feet flat and ground her loins against the old man, drenching the front of his pants with her juices as her hot gasping pussy found and came into hard contact with his aching member and churned and twisted firmly against it.

A soft but intense moan of pleasure came deep from deep in her chest, but there was an element of relief in the moan as well. Her breasts were filled nearly to bursting with milk, making them throb and ache and she felt relief as he sucked and gulped, draining it quickly and completely.

He felt her hand on the back of his head, pressing his face to her breast, the same way she did when nursing her baby.

He felt her grind her bare pussy against his screaming erection and wanted more than anything to plum her depths with his iron-hard cock, to slam his hips against her, to drive inside her over and over, to fill her with his seed while she filled him with her milk.

He straightened, his lips releasing her nipple with a lout wet pop, and looked up at her face.

Her large blue eyes were open. She was wide awake and staring at him with a need so frantic, so desperate, and so remorselessly all-encompassing that he couldn't take his eyes off her as he fumbled to undo his pants.

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Yvette had shaken her head, trying to deny what was happening to her. She had to wake up. She needed to put a stop to what her great-great-grandpa was doing, but the incredible pleasure of his lips scrubbing her sensitive nipple, the feeling of relief as he drained her overfilled breast and the unbelievable sensations as she ground her swollen clit against the old man's raging hard-on was enough to wake her and make her realize it wasn't a dream at all.

She opened her eyes wide just as he straightened, releasing her nipple with a loud sucking pop.

She stared at him, both repelled and aroused by the thin wrinkled skin, the age spots, the long nose hairs, and the massive jug ears. He looked as ancient and weathered as an old cracked statue and yet his rough hands felt cool on her heated skin, and his hard pulsing member ground against her sex, aggressive and demanding.

She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she couldn't, wouldn't stop what was happening, no matter what... she wanted, needed a man inside her.

He was there and Tyler wasn't. She could plainly see that he wanted her and knew that Tyler didn't, he was repelled by her.

Their fingers tangled as they struggled to undo his belt buckle and got in each other's way. Finally, she left off trying to undo it and yanked down hard on his zipper, reached into the gap, pulled down his underwear and grasped her great-great-grandfather's large fleshy rod.

She gripped him in her small slender hand. He was so thick she couldn't wrap her fingers completely around the hard thick cock.

Whining deep down in her chest, she yanked the old man's huge phallus unceremoniously through the gap and then gasped in amazement.

He gasped in sudden pain as the stretched skin of his cock was dragged across the hard metal zipper, leaving a red welt. He paid it no mind.

Yvette stared briefly in awe. The old man's cock was enormous... and it wasn't wrinkled or age-spotted. It looked a lot like her husband's only longer and thicker. The big differences were that his pubic hair was a tangled mix of white and gray and his balls, when she pulled them out also, were drawn up in a tight but wrinkled nut sack.

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The old man finally undid the buckle, unbuttoned his pants, slapped her hands away and thrust them down his skinny thighs, making his enormous member bounce and sway as her hands immediately went to palm his large hairy balls.

Staring into her pretty face, her large blue eyes wide with anticipation, he rubbed his hard cock up and down between her swollen inner and outer lips, placed the tip of his mushroom-shaped cockhead at the entrance to her steamy wet pussy and waited.

Her heat, her scent, the very sight of her drove him wild with lust, but he had to make sure she was willing. He'd never fucked an unwilling woman in his life and he wouldn't start now. If she said no, he'd put his junk away and leave. He'd go home and jerk off like he'd never jerked off before.

But Yvette didn't say no. She reached for his hands and placed them on her tits then reached out, gripped his flat shriveled ass-cheeks with both hands and drew him towards her, forcing him to sink the head of his enormous cock inside her. It slid between her buttery folds and she was so wet and ready for him that he sank easily into her.

She uttered a high guttural moan as the flanged head of her great-great-grandpa's cock scraped the inner walls of her tight clasping pussy.

Grampa groaned too and leaned forward to take her other nipple in his mouth, sliding his hands to either side of that breast to squeeze and drain it as he had the other one, while at the same time driving his hips forward to spear her completely with his raging hard member in one quick savage pummeling thrust.

There it was... finally. After so many frustrating weeks of craving it, needing it and yearning for it.

Her great-great-grandfather's savagely thrusting cock triggered a titanic orgasm that hit her like a charging freight train.

Yvette clapped her hands to her mouth, preventing a shriek of pure pleasure from tearing from her ragged throat. It would've been loud enough to wake the kids from miles away.

Her large luminous blue eyes looked about to bulge from her head.

Her face was bright red, large swollen veins pulsed on her forehead and at her throat, the tendons of her neck bulged like knotted ropes, her muscles tensed and she quivered and bounced on the rocking chair.

Grampa held her from swaying away from him with a tentative grip on her large tit. It was wet and slippery with sweat and milk and slipped from his grasp to send her swaying away from him.

He heard her gasp with disappointment as his long thick cock slid out of her, but he could tell she was in the throes of a monumental orgasm.

Instead of sliding back into her, he sat on his haunches, put his hands on either side of her churning gasping pussy, tangled his fingers in her damp pubic hair, lowered his head, took her swollen clit between his lips and sucked and teased it with his tongue.

At the same time, he, turned his hand palm up, sank two fingers into her slippery pussy and finger fucked her hard and fast, feeling for the little bump near the upper part of her entrance, her g-spot and stimulated it with his fingertips when he found it.