Nate’s Summer #20: Friend’s Granny

Mrs. Hartwell invites Nate over for a get-together celebrating her son Eddie completing Navy Boot Camp, where Nate meets Eddie's grandmother. All characters are over 18.

Mrs. Fischer and I spent the night in the breakroom of the library after our petting sessions, as she called them. Although "petting" seemed like a mild way to describe me doing her in the Greek fashion, to use her term, or fucking her in the butt, to use mine.

But anyway, after all that, I went to the storage room where Mrs. Fischer said there was a shipping container full of excelsior for packaging items they sent on loan to other libraries, along with heavy, brown butcher paper they used to wrap those packages. I made a surprisingly comfortable bed for myself on the breakroom floor with the excelsior and paper, while Mrs. Fischer slept on the couch. After all the sex, as soon as I lay down on my makeshift pallet, with the steady hard rain still beating on the windows, I was dead asleep.

According to my trusty Philadelphia Eagles wrist watch, I awoke before six AM. The rain was still coming down, but the gray skies gave off a pale light that was enough to wake me.

Mrs. Fischer was still snoring on the couch, wearing the bright pink "Reading is Fundamental" T-shirt I had found when I was hunting around for something to sleep on. The only size still left in the box was "Small." I am not too good with women's sizes, but I knew my Mom wore a medium in T-shirts, and she was stacked. Mom stretched her T-shirts to the maximum, but her tits were not quite as big as Mrs. Fischer's.

Nevertheless, when I brought Mrs. Fischer the T-shirt to change into to sleep in if she wanted to, she squealed and clapped her hands. She took the T-shirt from my hands, tossed it onto the couch, and held my face in her hands while she kissed me on the lips with bird pecks. "Oh, my Darling, this is so wonderful! You thought of me and my comfort. You are such a wonderful and considerate young man!"

Mrs. Fischer had put on her panties and blouse again without her bra, which she had hung over the breakroom chair. When she began kissing me, I figured she was signaling for another round of petting, so I dropped the bedding materials and grabbed her in for a hug, thrusting my tongue into her mouth as my cock started to fill.

We kissed for a moment when she pushed me back, her hands on my chest. Then she touched her hair with the palm of her hand. "Oh, no, Nate. Not again, not right now. Maybe I was too enthusiastic about this gift, for which I am extremely grateful so I don't have to wrinkle my blouse even more. I am so, so tired. But to show you that I am not putting you off for good, but just for now, I will change into your gift right here."

She began unbuttoning her blouse in the flickering light of the candle that we had pressed into the ashtray in the breakroom, her eyes on mine while I stared at her fingers. Once she had gotten through all the buttons, she did a little shimmy like you would see burlesque dancers do in the old black-and-white movies, and she threw back the front panels of her blouse, while dropping her arms down and back so the blouse fell off. She caught it in one hand, and carefully positioned it on the back of the chair where she had hung her bra.

Her tits were fantastic. They hung to her waist with heavy, bell-shaped bottoms and fat nipples the size of the last knuckle on my thumb. She hefted them in her palms, rubbing the bottoms so her fingers poked out between her cleavage. She smiled at me, so I stepped forward again to touch them, when she held up her hand again. She turned to pick up the T-shirt off the couch, and she pulled it over her head, rolling her shoulders to get her breasts to fit under the bright pink fabric.

When she finally got the shirt on, she put her hands at her sides, near her hips, palms down, and twisted from side to side. "How does it look on me?"

I groaned, seeing those huge tits and her relatively narrow waist bound in that tight t-shirt, a reaction that brought a delighted smile to her face. Then I said, "Mrs. Fischer, I don't think I have ever seen anything sexier in my whole life."

She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips with a little peck, and said, "Splendid! I love hearing that! Now, just imagine how eager you are going to be tomorrow morning when we awake, to get your hands on me. That is, unless the power comes on and someone rescues us. Wouldn't that be tragic? Can you wait that long, Darling?"

I groaned again, involuntarily, but said, "Yes, Ma'am, I can."

She patted me on the shoulder. "Good boy. Now, give me a piece of that butcher paper I can use as a sheet. Are you going to be comfortable over there on the floor sleeping on the excelsior?" I nodded, still a little miffed not to be able to get inside her one more time.

She leaned over again to kiss me on the lips. "Don't pout, Nate. I will let you dip into the honeypot soon enough, and if it does not work out for us here, then we can get together at my place later. How does that sound?"

The promise of getting laid later, there in the breakroom or at her home, was enough to perk me up. "That sounds great, Mrs. Fischer!"

"I thought you would like that. Now, good night." She kissed me on the lips again and turned to sit on the couch. "Be a dear, Darling, and blow out the candle."

I woke to find it still raining outside, but the sky was lighter. I looked out through some of the windows around the library where we were trapped, and things looked bad. Power was obviously still out, trees were down everywhere, and the street out front was flowing like a stream. There was no one driving or walking around, as far as I could see, so it did not appear that anyone was too concerned about what was happening in the library.

On a chance, I picked up the phone in the breakroom, and it was still dead. Mrs. Fischer was still snoring peacefully, so I walked around to the library doors, and they were still secured tightly, each with a mechanical bolt that had fallen into place on schedule and could not be budged without the electricity coming back on. Mrs. Fischer, who was a volunteer at the library and in the know, told me the backup generator and batteries were on the fritz, so the main power had to come back on for us to get out.

We were still stuck, and no one knew anyone was still in the library, since the librarian had left early and locked up to handle some kind of personal crisis, not knowing Mrs. Fischer and I were still inside.

After I stopped in the men's room to wash my face and to give my cock and balls another scrub since Mrs. Fischer and I had done it Greek style the night before, I headed back to the breakroom. Mrs. Fischer was beginning to rouse herself, but her gray hair was still matted against the "Librarians Do It in the Stacks" needlepoint pillow we found for her to sleep on. She looked up at me, pushed the butcher paper sheet aside, and smiled.

"Good morning, Darling. Ah, the energy of youth! Is there any change to our situation?"

"No, Ma'am, it is still raining cats and dogs, the phones are still out, and there is no power, in here or anywhere I can see."

"Well, we will just have to continue to make do and entertain ourselves and each other until we are rescued." She patted the cushion next to her hip. "Come and kiss me."

As I sat next to her, she turned her face toward me and pursed her lips so I would give her a good morning kiss, as I had seen my Mom and Dad do, you know, back before he fucked my ex-girlfriend on Mom's bed, and Mom kicked him out.

I put my arm between her body and the back cushion, brushing her breast in the ridiculously tight T-shirt as I did so, before leaning over to kiss her. She scrunched her lips to the side with a little smile and shook her head. "You just can't resist these, can you?" She put her hands on either side of her breasts, and pushed them together and up at me.

Grinning back at her, I said, "No, Ma'am, you have great tits, I mean breasts, Mrs. Fischer."

She laughed. "Nate, I think that after you have known me as the beasts do, and in the Greek way, you can say 'tits,' that is, when it is just you and me."

"Yes, Ma'am." But I was unsure when there would be another time for me to mention tits or breasts or jugs or any other word like that to this woman, since I had only met her 12 hours before, when I walked into the library to donate some of my Dad's books that my Mom wanted to get rid of.

"Now that we have cleared that up, we have some unfinished business, Mr. Stovall, do we not?"

I kind of knew what she was getting at, at least, I hoped I knew, but I was not going to be too assuming, since, according to the "Odd Couple" episode from the other night, when you assume, it makes an ass of you and me. "Do we?"

She nodded. "Indeed we do, young man, indeed we do. If you will recall, you mentioned that you spent three times in that drab bawd Gladys Zimmerman. Well, young man, that challenge demands a response. By my count, you have filled me twice so far, so we have our work cut out for us this morning. Are you up for it?"

Of course I was ready! "Yes, Ma'am! So what are we going to do, more of the Greek stuff?"

She put her hand under her butt and shook her head vigorously. "Oh, no! Oh, no! That was once-in-a-lifetime good, but I am going to let Mildred know that our imaginings did not account for the discomfort after the reaming you gave me. Although she will probably insist on having me introduce you to her so she can try it herself."

I tried to be nonchalant about the idea of Mrs. Fischer's older sister wanting me to fuck her in the butt, but I think I pitched my voice too high. "Oh, she lives around here?"

She shook her head. "So typical. Give a young man half a chance to rut some willing wench, and he will jump at it. I think you would like her, actually. She has a great sense of humor, and her bubbies are bigger than mine. Her first children were twins, you know? For a woman, that means you will always be extra busty the rest of your life. But first things first." She pulled her hand out from under her backside, and she tentatively touched my cock. "Oh, my goodness, you are ready again!"

"Yes, Ma'am. Seeing you in that tight pink t-shirt got me going."

"That is good, because I got an idea from that horrible magazine you tried to foist on the library." She stood, facing me, grabbed her t-shirt by the hem, and lifted her shirt over her head, pulling her breasts up by the fabric until they released, falling and bouncing on her chest until they settled.

That brought another groan from me. Mrs. Fischer smiled. "I knew that would get your attention. I have been waiting to do that until the very right moment. Now, pull your jeans off and sit." She walked to where her purse was on the breakroom table, and reached in to remove the little jar of Vaseline we used to lubricate my prick before she let me in her back door.

She walked back toward me, carrying the little container of Vaseline, smiling and comfortable, like it was the most natural thing in the world for a great-grandmother to prance around in just her panties, with her huge jugs swaying, in front of an 18-year-old with his cock out in a library.

I was stroking the base of my cock, holding it straight up for her, when she leaned between my legs, her breasts brushing my thighs and kissed the head. She stood, putting her fingers in front of her lips, and giggling, like a girl who had done something naughty. "Oh, my, kissing a man's penis! When I was 18, only the slutty pushovers at Mrs. Cadwallader's Finishing School would do such a thing. We looked down on them. How wrong I was."

She leaned over again for another kiss, and this time, her tongue probed my pee-hole. She looked up at me. "I French-kissed your willy! Did you like that?"

"Yes, Ma'am, and if you want to, you could put the whole head in your mouth."

She looked at me, shocked that I would suggest such a thing, cocked her head to the side as if thinking about it, then she smiled. "Maybe later, but first, I wanted to try something I saw that Miss Samples do to that Mr. Holmes."

There were pictures of Candy Samples doing all kinds of things with John Holmes in that magazine that Dad had hidden among the Look and National Geographic magazines he had kept in a box in the carport. That was the box Mom told me to bring to the library to donate, which I did, right before the storm knocked out power and locked Mrs. Fischer and me inside. The porn magazine had slipped out when Mrs. Fischer was checking my donations, something that shocked us both. But I guess it had not shocked her that much if she had gotten some kind of brainstorm from the pictures.

Whatever she was planning seemed promising, so I went along with it. She was about to kneel when she noticed I was sitting on her "Librarians Do It in the Stacks" pillow. "Give me that pillow, Nate, my old bones are not what they used to be, and if I am going to get on my knees before you, I need some help."

I was hoping that her getting down between my legs meant she was going to blow me, but she had other plans. She put the Vaseline on the floor next to her, and spread my legs so her breasts were pushing into my crotch and balls. She patted my hand holding my cock, so I released it. She scooped her bell-shaped, hanging breasts in each hand, and pressed them against my cock from each side. Her tits engulfed my hard-on, with only the head poking out the top.

She looked into my eyes, radiantly smiling at her accomplishment. "Oh, Nate, your penis is so hot on my breasts! It is throbbing! Now, if I remember the caption, Mr. Holmes was 'fucking her tits.' I suspect that means she was rubbing her breasts up and down, like this. Does it feel like fucking, Nate? Do you like it?"

My groan told her all she needed to hear about how much I liked it. Seeing this gray-haired woman on her knees before me, using her hands to press her huge tits against my cock was a real turn on. I began moving my hips upward to match her downward bobbing, when she stopped, letting her tits fall away.

She reached down to grab the Vaseline, deftly popping it open and dipping her fingers into the goo. While she did that, she said, "Darling, it is starting to chaff me like I worried it would, so I am going to make things a little slicker. It will be just a sec. I don't think you will mind."

I shook my head, rubbing my cock, watching her put the Vaseline on the red marks my hard-on had made on the inside of her breasts. She looked up at me, smiling, "Ready?"

We once again worked to get a rhythm going, to maximize the stimulation on my cock and balls to get me close. She looked focused, going all in to maximize the sensations for me. I leaned back on the couch, enjoying her work, feeling the sap welling up, and squeezing her a little with my knees around her torso. Then she launched into her commentary.

"Oh, Nate, your willy is throbbing and hot, it feels like it is swelling even more. It is so long, look how it pokes up between my breasts when I push them down, almost hitting me in the chin. The head is so fat and purple, like a plum with a slit in it. I kissed that slit, don't you remember, Darling. And your balls, they are so heavy and big, my belly is brushing them..."

That was all it took. I clamped my hands around hers on either side of her breasts, squeezing her tits tightly to my cock as my cum came shooting out of me as I roared. The first blast flew just past her nose, clipping some strands of her gray hair before it arced over her head. Holding her tits, I aimed the next shots at her eyes and mouth, one bolus hitting her right eyebrow, and the other flying into her open, astonished mouth, bouncing off the roof and landing on her tongue, cutting off her exclamation, "Mercy me, I've never..." into a coughing gurgle.

Mrs. Fischer's eyes went wide as saucers, her mouth still open in that little "O" of shock from the unexpected splash across her tongue. She coughed once, swallowed, then sputtered, a mix of semen and saliva dribbling down her chin as she tried to catch her breath. The thick white ropes streaked her right eyebrow like a dramatic comma, clung to strands of her gray hair in glistening beads, and one fat glob even landed warm on her collarbone before sliding slowly toward the deep valley between her breasts.

"Heavens to Betsey!" she gasped, finally managing to swallow what had landed inside her mouth, her voice a hoarse, astonished whisper. She blinked rapidly, lashes fluttering as if to clear the sticky film from her vision. "Well, I never...! Nate, Darling, that was... that was a regular geyser! Good heavens, I had no idea men spurted out like that! Look at me, you've painted me!"

She touched a trembling finger to the warm streak on her eyebrow, then pulled it away to examine the glistening tip in the dim morning light filtering through the rain-streaked windows. A delighted, almost girlish giggle escaped her despite the mess. "If Mildred could see me now, she'd never believe it. Do you realize, Nate, that by ejaculating so forcefully into my mouth, you have spent into every one of my orifices, you naughty boy?"

I smiled happily at that, well aware of my accomplishment. "Yes, Ma'am."

"You do seem quite pleased with yourself, young man. But I have a secret for you, I am proud as well. There is no way that loose harlot Gladys Zimmerman accomplished that! You may have spent three times in her cunny, but it took a woman of breeding and refinement to make you spend in three unique locations! And once by using my bosom!"

I had learned to always agree with anything a woman says, especially if I had just cum in her mouth. "Yes, Ma'am, you are really something."

She leaned back on her heels, still on her knees atop the pillow, her heavy breasts heaving with each surprised breath, the pink flush creeping up her neck. She reacted with a start, reaching around her to touch her back. "That first... explosion that went past my nose, it is dripping down my back toward my nether fissure, it feels the size of an egg yolk!"

She looked at her fingers, dripping with my cum, that she had rescued from her ass crack. "It may be the size of a yolk, but it looks like egg white!" She collected my cum from her fingers with her lips, and swallowed it. "And the taste is so unusual, but not unpleasant. Strong and salty, as a man's essence should be. But, not unpleasant at all! Not at all!"

She dabbed at her cheek with the back of her hand, smearing rather than cleaning, and shook her head in wonder. "My stars and garters, I've never felt anything quite so... forceful. It's all over my face like frosting on a birthday cake! You've turned this old librarian into a frightful sight!"

My cock was again stirring, something that she noticed. I reached across and cupped one of her greasy breasts. "You look pretty good to me, Mrs. Fischer."

Just then, a low, mechanical hum intruded on the patter of the rain on the window, and the overhead lights flickered once, twice, then blazed to full, harsh brightness. The fluorescent tubes overhead buzzed and steadied, casting the breakroom in stark white. The air conditioner kicked on with a whoosh, stirring the scattered butcher paper and sending a faint chill across Mrs. Fischer's bare skin. Down the hall, the big library doors clicked and whirred as the electronic locks disengaged.

Mrs. Fischer froze, one hand still hovering near her semen-streaked cheek, her eyes opened wide, looking up in surprise at the sudden light. Her eyes fell back down on mine. "Well, I'll be switched!" she exclaimed, voice pitching higher in fresh astonishment. "The power's back! Land's sakes! And just when things were getting interesting again!"

She glanced down at herself, nude, with Vaseline-smeared breasts, her face and hair decorated with my cum, and she looked back at me with wide, twinkling eyes. "Quick, Darling, hand me that pink t-shirt before someone comes poking around." I handed it to her, and she used it to wipe the petroleum jelly off her tits.

She smiled at me when she noticed I was staring at her. "Though I must say... part of me wishes they'd waited just a few minutes longer."

"Me, too, but I had better call my mother. She is probably worrying about me."

Mrs. Fischer nodded as she unfolded her bra and pulled it around her torso. "You are such a considerate young man, Nate. I have been so thoroughly impressed with you in so many ways." She stood, latching the four hooks and eyes in front of her, then twisting the bra around so she could fit her breasts into the sizeable cups. I loved watching women do that.

She broke me out of my trance. "Call your mother and ease her mind."

"Yes, Ma'am." I picked up the big black Bakelite phone receiver, but there was no dial tone. I shrugged and said to her as I returned the receiver to the cradle, "It's not working yet."

She nodded and said, "You mentioned that she and your father are going through a breakup, correct?" I nodded. "There is no telling how a woman will react to that. She may be wishy-washy about wanting the divorce one moment, then demand it the next, and drink herself into a coma because of the despair later. You just have to keep being there for her. I remember when Mildred finally got rid of that skunk of a husband she had, she turned into a nun. Checked herself into a commune and everything."

"Don't you mean a convent, Mrs. Fischer?"

Her face darkened for the first time since I had known her, even though that had only been about 16 hours. "No, I do not mean convent! If I had meant 'convent,' I would have said 'convent,' young man!"

Then she smiled, and the pleasant Mrs. Fischer I had known and fucked returned. "She joined an all-women's commune, some kind of hippy dippy thing. But she took a vow of celibacy so she would not ruin the balance of nature or some such nonsense. Not that anyone wanted to get horizontal with that portly mess, Zounds! How she had let herself go right before and after the divorce!"

"She eventually left the commune because she was starving, bless her heart, and she must have lost a hundred pounds, slimming down pretty much everywhere but in her bosom. Ralph should see her now! But she is still wearing beads, and she replaced Ralph's American flag on the flagpole out front of her house with one of those green e flags."

During this monologue, Mrs. Fischer had finished dressing, had reapplied her makeup, and looked as fresh as when I had met her the evening before.

She smiled at me. "Help me get my jacket on, Nate. And once that is done, you should get dressed yourself and run along. No need for one of the local constabulary or poor Miss Baker, librarian, to find us here together and force us into long explanations that will be very uncomfortable for us to be honest about."

I stood behind her and held up her jacket that exactly matched her pants, same fabric and design, Garanimals-style, and she put her arms into the sleeves. The lapels did not fully cover the girls, as Meemaw would say, but the jacket did camouflage her big jugs pretty well.

She watched me pull on my clothes and shoes, then said, "Follow me to the end of the hall toward the back parking lot, and I will let you out." When we got to the back door I had come through the day before, she lifted a metal cup concealing a button, pushed it, and the door made a clunking noise. She pushed the bar and popped the door, holding it so I could get out.

I passed her in the door jamb, chest to chest, and I thought I could kiss her to thank her for the evening and morning we had spent together, but she put her finger on my lips. "Not in public, Darling. But I am certainly amenable to reinvigorating our acquaintance, if you are interested. Give me a call, I am in the book."

I stepped across the threshold, and the library door banged shut behind me as she called, "Ta-ta for now!"

The sun had come out by the time I walked to my car, and folks were starting to move around on the streets even though there was still standing water everywhere. But I made it home and quietly went in through the carport door, making sure not to wake Mom if she was still sleeping. I stumbled into my room, quickly undressed, and fell asleep. Mrs. Fischer had taken it out of me.

I was dead tired, and slept until dark. I got up, ate a bowl of Raisin Bran with water since there was no milk, and went back to bed.

The next morning, I heard Mom bustling around, then she knocked on the door and came in before I could say anything. It was a good thing I had my sheet at least up to my waist, or Mom would have gotten an eyeful of my cock since I was sleeping in the nude. Standing in my doorway, she fanned herself with an envelope that looked like it held a greeting card. She was angry.

"Why is Eddie's mother sending you a card that smells like her perfume?" Before I could answer, she went on. "Ever since she got divorced, she parades around in those tight dresses with her big tits hanging out, wearing an ankle bracelet, like one of those whores down on State Street. It would not surprise me one little bit to find out that you fucked her, like you fucked every other one of my friends and their mothers. And that fat-ass next door neighbor of ours."

"Mom! I never fu--, you know, did that with Mrs. G! I was over there getting money for feeding her cat that time."

"Don't try to deflect! Answer the question. Did Eddie's mother send you a card thanking you for fucking her since she could not hold on to her own husband?"

Wow, that was a loaded question, and it was especially rich coming from Mom. It was hard for me to reconcile her complaining about Mrs. Hartwell flashing her big breasts while Mom was standing there, in her casual house-cleaning attire, which this time was one of my football practice half-shirts that could not completely cover her bra cups, so the white cup fabric and the wide underband were visible beneath the hem of the shirt.

And I did not really know why the Hartwells were divorced, but I know that my Mom had kicked my Dad out because she caught him fucking my ex-girlfriend in Mom's bed. Maybe Mom said mean things about Mrs. Hartwell because she couldn't hold on to Dad.

But the truth was, I did not know anything then about women's psychology or why they did what they did. However, I did not have time to ponder any of that since Mom demanded an answer, staring down at me, tapping her foot with her arms folded.

Speaking slowly, I answered, "I don't know why she is sending me a card, but it is certainly not for that reason you said. Maybe Eddie is coming home from Boot Camp or something, and she is going to have a party."

Mom hefted her breasts with her folded arms while still waving the card in her fingers, tapping her foot, and staring at me. I kept my face as neutral as possible, since if Mom suspected I had fucked Mrs. Hartwell, she would probably launch herself into the bed and try to scratch my eyes out.

Finally, she said, "Fine. But you are going to open the card right now and read it out loud. If she so much as hints that you fucked her, I am kicking you out, you understand, Nate? You can go shack up with that whale of a debate teacher with all those rooms in her house or with your recruiter until you ship out to Basic. I won't care a whit." She tossed the envelope onto my chest with a frisbee flip.

I picked it up, somewhat nervous about what Mrs. Hartwell would say in it. The card did smell like her perfume that I remembered well from that night on her couch, a scent that sent a signal to my cock that was already showing an interest in Mom's exposed bra and her big tits. It would be a disaster if I popped a boner with my Mom standing over me, staring down at me while I read Mrs. Hartwell's card. I opened the envelope, hoped for the best, and started reading.

"Dear Nate, Please honor Eddie, Sharon and myself with your presence Friday evening. We are celebrating Eddie's graduation from Boot Camp and Sharon's return from Africa where the Peace Corps had sent her with a cookout in my backyard. No need to RSVP, just come and enjoy the hamburgers and grilled chicken. Yours, Elaine Hartwell." I looked up at my mother. "That's it."

Mom snatched the card from me and read it herself to make sure I had not left anything out. Satisfied, she handed it back to me with a beautiful smile. "Elaine must be so proud, with both of her children doing so well." Mom bent over to hug me, crushing her breasts into my chest as she wrapped her arms around my neck. She murmured into my ear, "Just like I am so proud of you, going off to be a soldier not too long from now."

I patted her back, hoping that she would not stay down on me, since I was sure that would make me pop a boner. She stood just in time, smiling down at me. "Well, since today is Friday, you had better get yourself cleaned up for the party. But, only after you make a run to the dump to toss a bunch of your father's junk. It is all staged by the door to the carport." She flounced out of my room, leaving the card on the foot of my bed.

The stuff Mom had left in boxes turned out to be my Dad's tools and most of his clothes. It seemed like a waste just to throw those things away, but I wasn't going to get sideways with Mom, so I drove the stuff down to the dump and tossed it into the pit where a front-loader was filling a dump truck with junk. I made two trips, and after a stop at Burger Chef, it was time to shower and head over to Eddie's for the party.

I had completely lost track of how long Eddie had been gone, so to hear he was in town and his Mom was throwing a party for him made me a little apprehensive. After all, I had fucked his Mom and his sister, oh, and his sister's friend, and Eddie was touchy about people even looking at his mother or sister. He had lost his mind when I had mentioned once that I thought his Mom was attractive, so who knows what he would do if he found out what I had been up to while he was gone.

Figuring I should represent the fact that I was soon heading to Basic Training, I put on the black US Army T-shirt my recruiter had given me, and I walked over to Eddie's house. The last time I walked over there, Mrs. G stopped me on the way and teased me so much that I worried it would happen again. But there were no lights on at her house, so I got to Eddie's in about 10 minutes.

It became clear why Mrs. G was not at her place, because her car was parked on the curb in front of Eddie's. I stopped, thinking about what I would encounter at the party. Even though I had not fucked Mrs. G, I had gotten a hand job from her, so that would make four women I had been with that summer all in the same backyard.

The backyard at the Hartwell place was already alive with the smell of charcoal smoke, sizzling burgers, and the low hum of Top 40 music coming from a radio perched on the picnic table. String lights crisscrossed overhead, even though it was still daylight since Eddie's mom always liked things festive.

There were Eddie's friends, grouped together, while adults clustered in groups: the neighbor women, including Mrs. G, who waved at me with one finger before turning back to her group, a few of Eddie's older relatives, and a handful of local men.

I spotted Mrs. Hartwell first, standing by the grill in a red sundress that hugged her curves and showed off those legendary legs. She was laughing at something one of Eddie's uncles said, flipping chicken with tongs. Her perfume hit me before I even got close, that same floral-spicy cloud that had been on the invitation and that she had worn when we were on her couch that time. My cock twitched just from the memory.

Eddie was over by the cooler, with a couple of girls and another guy from our high school class. He was handing out beers, still in his fresh buzzcut and looking broader across the shoulders from Boot Camp. He saw me and raised a bottle of Rolling Rock in salute, grinning widely.

"Stovall! Get over here, man. Thought you'd chicken out since there would be no way some future soldier would be hanging around with a sailor."

It was great seeing him, so I laughed as I walked over, taking one of the green bottles from him while I clapped him on the back. "You look great, Man, all squared away. I guess you survived."

Eddie grinned. "Yeah, they tried to break me, but there was no chance. I was too much swabby for 'em!" The five of us clinked beer necks all around, but it was clear Eddie was trying to make time with Francine, who, I had to say, was looking really good since she had gotten her braces off, had a tan on her, and had filled out since graduation. So he said, "Nate, Mom said you should say hello when you get here." He punched me in the chest, adding with mock seriousness, "But don't be hitting on her!"

Francine and the rest of the crew around Eddie laughed at his joke, so I smiled and said, "No chance, Man, I am just going over there to get a burger."

I had to pass by Mrs. G, who was, by then, sitting on a green fabric lawn chair near the picnic table, fanning herself with a paper plate. She crooked one of her fingers at me with a knowing smile, so I walked over to say hello, stopping just in front of her. She was wearing a pale pink sleeveless blouse whose buttons strained to retain her heavy, full breasts.

"Hey, Mrs. G, how are you today?"

"I am doing as good as can be expected, but I have been so lonely, Nate." She stuck out her bottom lip. "You know that you promised to stop by so we could renew our... discussion about your summertime activities. I am sure you have forgotten me." She took a sip from her wine, eyeing me over the glass.

"No, Ma'am, it is just that things are busy now, you know, helping Mom get things squared away and all."

Mrs. G swirled her wine in the glass, still watching me. "I am sure, Nate. With her kicking out your Father, that leaves you as the man of the house, at least until you ship out."

Shrugging, I said, "I suppose."

She sipped her wine and said, offhandedly, "Did you hear that both Evelyn Hainley AND Beatrice Sponset are pregnant? You dated their teenage daughters, didn't you?"

This announcement made me freeze. I was doing the mental math based on what I had learned in Sex Ed class about how long it takes for a woman to know she is pregnant. A couple of weeks after missing a period, it seemed like.

Mrs. G was watching me with amusement. "And do you know what else I heard from Elsie Bookbinder, the obstetrics nurse for Dr. Ferker? This may be of interest to you, since according to Mrs. Zimmerman when I saw her at the flower show, you had an appointment with the Mayor at their house."

She paused and let that bit of news hang in the air. "I only mention that, Nate, since Elsie told me that both the Mayor and her daughter are pregnant. I wonder what that will do for her re-election campaign? And this might amuse you, Nate. When they finally captured our fugitive police chief, Dr. Ferker was called in to examine her, and she was pregnant as well! Two sisters and a daughter! Isn't that something? It is a good thing the Zimmermans have such a big house!"

My head was spinning at the news, so I drank down half the bottle of Rolling Rock while I thought of something to say. I had cum in all of those women over the last couple of months, so there was a real chance that all of them were pregnant by me. Mrs. G watched me with a knowing smile, as if she were well aware of what was going through my mind, like I was a comic-book character and she was reading my thought bubble.

She asked, "Don't you have anything to say about the baby boom our little town is experiencing?"

I forced a weak laugh, trying to play it cool. "Uh, sounds like the town's population is about to get a lot bigger and a lot younger. I guess congratulations are in order for... everybody?"

Mrs. G leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Oh, Nate, you sweet boy. You've been busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, cutting a wide swath, spewing your seed all over town, bathing the cervixes of every fertile woman around. And oh, my, I can certainly attest to how much seed you have, can't I? You filled one of these bra cups with your semen, if you will recall. I am wearing that same bra since I knew you were going to be here. It is such a pleasant memory for me."

I groaned, imagining that awesome handjob she gave me in her bedroom that kickstarted my summer of boldness. But I did not have any time to fantasize about that, since Mrs. G went on.

"Just imagine all those little Stovalls filling the playgrounds in a few years. Folks around here are going to call you the town father!" She laughed, a little too loudly. A couple of people looked over, then went back to their burgers.

She patted my arm, her fingers lingering. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. For now. But you owe me that visit you promised me, soon. I need some... comforting, what with all this excitement."

I nodded, mumbled something about calling her later and needing to grab a burger, and backed away before she could pin me down further. But I did not really know what I was doing, walking around in a haze, my mind focused on the idea of the pregnant Mayor, the pregnant police chief, the Mayor's pregnant daughter, and another couple of my classmates' mothers, and my co-ed classmates, all pregnant. And probably all pregnant by me.

If word got out, I'd be run out of town on a rail before Basic even started, probably with my Mom leading the mob.

As I headed toward the grill to distract myself with a burger, I saw an older woman I did not think I had ever seen before, but she still seemed familiar, standing off to the side near the rose bushes, chatting with a couple of the neighbor ladies. She was different from the other grandmotherly women because she was not wearing a conservative summer-weight pantsuit or a sundress. She wore a flowing batik maxi dress in swirling patterns of deep indigo, rust orange, and cream, its tie-dyed fabric looking like it came straight from some hippie commune.

The dress was loose and billowing, cinched only lightly at the waist with a thin braided cord, the hem brushing the grass as she shifted her weight. Multiple strands of wooden and ceramic beads hung around her neck in layers, clacking softly whenever she moved, and her wrists were wrapped with bead bracelets. Her silver hair was long and loose, parted in the middle and falling past her shoulders in soft waves, with a few thin braids woven in here and there.

She was not wearing any makeup I could see. She had sun-kissed skin and a serene, almost amused expression. But even in that hippie getup, there was no hiding the body underneath. The dress draped over her in a way that still emphasized her massive breasts, and when I noticed those, it hit me who she had to be. This was Mrs. Fischer's sister, Mildred.

A couple of things went through my mind at once, crowding out any worries about knocking up half the town. First, Mildred was just like her sister had said, huge tits hanging heavy and full, swaying gently with every breath or laugh, the obscenely fat nipples rubbing themselves under the fabric of her dress. The thin cotton did nothing to conceal the dark outlines of her nipples when she turned a certain way in the sunlight.

Her wide hips, thick thighs, and her soft belly told the story of the twins and all the other kids she carried long ago, and a life lived in the communes since. She may have looked like a hippie chick, but she was all mature woman, ripe and round like one of those fertile goddess statues they were always showing in National Geographic. And Mrs. Fischer was certainly right about one thing: Mildred's bubbies were bigger.

The other thing I was thinking was that she was talking to Mrs. Su, the woman with the pool who lived behind my house, who had invited me over for a swim that turned into a session of fucking. Which meant it would be difficult for me to wander over and strike up a conversation with Mildred, without having to loop Mrs. Su into the conversation as well. That would be awkward. So I headed toward Mrs. Hartwell, who was flipping chicken on the grill and wearing an apron that said, "Kiss the Cook."

She did not see me approach, so she was startled when I said, "Hey, Mrs. Hartwell."

She turned, surprise on her face, holding a piece of chicken slathered in barbecue sauce in a pair of tongs. "Oh, Nate! I saw you were here, but my mind was a million miles away. What a pleasure! Now, kiss the cook." She pursed her lips.

Alarm bells were ringing in my head. "Mrs. Hartwell! Eddie is right over there! He would lose his mind if I kissed you!" I glanced over, and Eddie was indeed watching us at the grill.

"Oh, pish, Nate! He can learn to get over himself. Kiss me."

Against my better judgment, I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. I glanced over. Eddie was watching us from the cooler, Rolling Rock halfway to his mouth.

Mrs. Hartwell returned the chicken to the grill and said in a low tone to me, "If I want a kiss from the father of my baby, I think I have that right."

She paused for a moment and said, "Don't look so poleaxed, Nate. You're turning the color of these tomatoes on the vine. Breathe."

I looked around, then swallowed hard. "Mrs. Hartwell, you're serious? You're... pregnant? And it's... mine?"

She smiled, watching the grill as she flipped burgers. "As serious as a heart attack, Nate. I tested positive at Dr. Ferker's just before the storm; he called me this morning. I am lucky that dreadful Nurse Bookbinder was out of the office, or it would be all over town. Morning sickness hit like a freight train, but it's easing up now. And yes. It's yours. There hasn't been anyone else since Mr. Hartwell left to find himself between the legs of some co-ed."

I was not sure how to react to that, but I figured I needed to be a man. "All right, Mrs. Hartwell, since the baby is mine, I will take responsibility. We can get married, and I will look for a job, then..."

Mrs. Hartwell stopped cooking and looked at me. "Nate, you sweet, wonderful, foolish young man. There is no way we are getting married, you and I. No, Nate, I am going to raise this baby by myself, and Momma..." She pointed over at Mildred and said, "Says she is going to help." Mildred, Mrs. Fischer's sister, was Mrs. Hartwell's mother? This day was full of surprises.

Mrs. Hartwell went on. "But, really Nate, can you imagine being the stepfather of Eddie?"

That had not occurred to me. I stood there, dumbfounded, which was enough of an answer, so Mrs. Hartwell went on. "No, of course not. Or of Sharon? Nate, you've been with Sharon, and you are younger than her. How would that work out?" Mrs. Hartwell went back to turning the chicken. "And besides, you are the father of her baby, too. And no, you are not marrying her either. She has a boyfriend she met over there, so she is going to pass the baby off as his. THEY are going to get married."

At that latest revelation, I still could not muster any words. Mrs. Hartwell smiled sweetly at me. "Grab a plate and a couple of buns, I will put a burger on there. Just because every woman you brush against gets a bun in her oven doesn't mean you can't have a hamburger bun on your plate. Isn't that right, Nate?"

I still was not thinking too clearly, so I mumbled, "No, Ma'am, I mean, yes, Ma'am, I mean..."

Mrs. Hartwell just nodded as I took a paper plate off the table, pulled a couple of buns from the plastic bag, and held the plate out to her. She put a burger on the bun and turned to talk to one of the neighbor ladies who walked up.

I wandered away from the grill, pretty much in a daze, and ended up standing by myself at the far end of the yard, staring over the fence at the high-tension wires and pylons in the distance. Chewing mechanically, I had almost finished the burger, trying to piece together what Mrs. G and Mrs. Hartwell had told me, when I felt someone come up next to me.

A little startled, I turned and saw that it was Mildred. She had a glass of red wine in her hand, and she smiled at me, her eyes a little unfocused. That was probably not her first or even third glass of wine. Her voice was clear, though.

"Why are you looking so gloomy over here, all by yourself, young man? This is a party! A virile young man should be mixing it up, in the midst of things!"

I came out of my daze. "Uh, sorry, Mrs., Mrs. I apologize, I don't know your name."

She switched the glass from her right to her left, rubbed the palm of her right hand on her dress down by her hips, which made her breasts jiggle and sway under the fabric, and held out her hand. "Millie Cadwallader, I am Eddie's granny on his mother's side. And who might you be?"

Millie could have been short for Mildred, so I guessed I was correct in assuming this was Mrs. Fischer's sister, Mildred. Learning she was also Mrs. Hartwell's mother was a real surprise. But I did not dwell long on that.

"Nathaniel Stovall, Nate. Eddie's friend from High School. He joined the Navy, and I am going into the Army."

She took a sip of her wine, looking over the glass at me, her eyes twinkling. She lowered the glass and smiled at me, her face suddenly appearing much younger. "So you are the famous Nate Stovall."

"Yes, Ma'am, but I don't know how famous I am. I just turned 18 and graduated from high school, so I have not done much."

She laughed, a sharp cackle, and those close to us, including Mrs. Su and Sharon, turned to look. But they soon lost interest, and Mrs. Cadwallader spoke to me in a low tone.

"You are being too modest, Nate. From what I hear, you have done plenty."

I hoped my face wasn't betraying the terror I felt at that moment, but whatever I showed had no effect on Mrs. Cadwallader. "You are the one who got my daughter and my granddaughter in the family way. Naughty, naughty! And from what I hear from my sister, Ellie, you are not averse to plowing your seed into more mature fields." She grabbed my wrist and gave it a shake, smiling at me. "Isn't that right, Nate?"

"Ellie" must have been what she called her sister Eleanor Fischer. "Look, Mrs. Cadwallader, I don't know if I should be talking about any of that stuff."

She beamed at me. "Your instincts are sound, young man, very sound! Silence is golden! Especially in an open forum like my daughter's backyard." She grasped my wrist again and leaned forward toward me so her bracelets, necklaces, and breasts all brushed my arm. "But I simply must hear all the facts, all the facts, young man, as Joe Friday might say, and straight from the horse's mouth, meaning you."

Mrs. Cadwallader looked furtively around, then leaned into me again. I glanced at the others at the party, and it did not appear that anyone was paying any attention, except, of course, Mrs. G, who I had learned was always aware of everything. "I am going into the house. You follow me in ten minutes and meet me in the formal living room in the front. The lights will be off, and the door closed, but slide it open and come in. You and I will chat. Is that a deal, young man?"

Even after everything I had heard since I got to the party, my cock started to swell since here was another older woman who had come up with a reason for us to be alone in the dark. I may have been worried about knocking up every female in town, but when the chance came along to get under the dress of another old woman, every other thing I worried about flew right out of my head. "Sure, Mrs. Cadwallader, I will meet you."

She beamed at me again and patted my arm. "Splendid, splendid! I just have to hear from you if what my sister told me is true. I cannot believe it, I cannot believe it! But she seemed so adamant, so I simply must find out for myself." She waved over her shoulder as she walked away, "See you in a skosh!"

I waited what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to eight minutes, nursing the last warm inch of my beer and pretending to study the pattern of the fence boards. I moved around the party, saying hello to people I knew, and laughing at jokes, so no one would accuse me of lingering like a creep.

The thought of getting my hands on Mrs. Cadwallader's fat tits definitely improved my morale. I figured whatever bad stuff was going to happen would happen the next day, so I might as well have some fun tonight. And fucking Mrs. Cadwallader's sister had been a lot of fun, so getting Mrs. Cadwallader as well should be just as fun. But who are we kidding? Anytime you get to fuck any woman counts as a fun time.

Finally, enough time had passed, so I tossed the empty bottle and my paper plate into the trash barrel, wiped my palms on my jeans, and moved toward the back door. Mrs. G had left her lawn chair, and I didn't see her, so I figured the coast was clear. I slipped through the sliding glass door into the kitchen, closing it behind me.

Voices and music filtered in muffled from the backyard; inside, it was cooler and quieter. I moved quickly through the dim hallway, past the family photos (Eddie in his football uniform, Sharon looking really good in her cheerleader's outfit, and a much younger Mrs. Hartwell laughing on a beach), until I reached the wide double doors to the formal living room.

They were pulled almost shut, leaving only a slender vertical stripe of darkness. I eased one sliding door open enough to slip inside and then pulled the doors closed so they clicked softly behind me.

The room was cave-dark after the bright yard. Heavy drapes blocked the front windows; only faint slivers of late-afternoon light leaked around the edges. My eyes adjusted slowly. I made out the long velvet sofa, the marble coffee table, two wing chairs, and the grandfather clock ticking in the corner like a slow heartbeat. Then I heard rustling and a low, throaty chuckle.

"There you are. I wondered how bold you would be, and whether you would actually come."

"Yes, Ma'am, here I am."

My eyes began to adjust. Mrs. Cadwallader sat in the far corner of the sofa, legs out in front of her next to the end of the coffee table, ankles crossed. She had kicked off her sandals and pulled the batik dress up enough to reveal thick, smooth calves and a glimpse of her pale thigh.

In the gloom, her silver hair caught what little light there was, giving her an almost ghostly glow. Both hands rested casually on the sofa back, which thrust her enormous breasts forward so the thin cotton strained and the dark areolas showed through like ink stains.

She patted the cushion beside her hip. "Come. Sit. We're just two old friends, in-laws practically, seeing as how you are the father to my next grandchild and great-grandchild, just having a private chat."

I sat next to her, and she leaned into me, the beads clicking together. Her voice was quiet and conspiratorial. "Ellie told me the most outrageous story," she began. "She said a young gentleman named Nate spent an entire stormy night locked in the library with her. She said that after some pleasant preliminaries, even though neither one of you had a flask, she let you have your way, just like in the old days. She said she told you the story about our little code."

"Yes, Ma'am, she said: 'When you were chaperoning her on a date, if she mentioned, 'This was the nice gentleman I told you about,' it meant she was going all the way, and you would watch.'"

Mrs. Cadwallader blew out a heavy breath. "Oh, my yes, were those days exciting! But I will have you know, Nate, never did any of those men do her more than once, and never did her in the Greek way, like she said you did! Oh my goodness, I wanted to see that, and to do it! But Mr. Cadwallader, rest his soul, never would give me what I so desperately wanted, and after a while, never could."

She giggled girlishly, very much like Mrs. Fischer, and leaned closer; I smelled patchouli, red wine, and warm skin. "Then she said that after you had your way with her, you painted her face like a Jackson Pollock picture with your semen. Is any of that true, Nate?"

My mouth went dry as my cock stiffened, wedged into my waistband. "She... she told you all that?"

Mrs. Cadwallader laughed again, softer this time. "Sisters tell sisters everything. Especially the filthy parts." One hand drifted to my knee, fingers tracing lazy circles. "She also said your equipment is... impressive. And your stamina is indecent for a boy your age. She used the word 'prodigious.' Twice." She held up two fingers and kissed one of them, looking me in the eye. "Don't be bashful, we are telling truths, like kinfolk. So tell me."

I groaned. "I... we... yeah. It happened." Her fingers slid higher, stopping just short of my balls.

"Very good, Nate, now, show me."

I hesitated, since I could still hear noises from the party not that far away. She tilted her head. "Don't be shy now. You've already knocked up my daughter and my granddaughter, reamed out my sister, and ejaculated on her face. What's a little show-and-tell between new friends?"

"But Mrs. Cadwallader, your sister told me that you had taken a vow of celibacy to some ecology goddess or something; should we be doing this?"

"My sister has a big mouth. I only joined that commune so I didn't have to cook anymore, and to give me an excuse not to wear a bra." She looked over her shoulder, then back at me, conspiratorially. "But don't say this to anyone, I still shave my legs and my pits. There is no telling when some young buck is going to want a romp in the hay. And men don't want to have to fight past the straw. Are you up for that?"

Before I could answer, she reached over, took my wrist, and guided my hand to the heavy swell of her left breast. Even through the dress, the weight was astonishing, soft, warm, pendulous, with no bra. Her nipple hardened instantly against my palm.

"Nate, I figure fair is fair. Since we are doing show-and-tell, I am willing to show you these to get to see what my sister, daughter, and granddaughter got. Now, your turn."

No more encouragement was needed. If Eddie's grandmother wanted to see my cock, I would let her. She watched with bright, hungry eyes as I worked my jeans and boxers down far enough. My hard-on sprang free, already thick, with the eye weeping pre-cum.

Mrs. Cadwallader sucked in a delighted breath. "Oh my stars and bars! Ellie wasn't exaggerating." She reached out, wrapped her stubby fingers around the shaft, and gave one slow, appreciative stroke from root to tip, staring at my cock.

She murmured more to herself than to me, "Back in my garden, I have a statue of Cupid holding out a heart, but your penis is fatter than his arm. I can hold his wrist, and my fingers touch, but look at this. I am squeezing your erection, and my middle finger can't touch my thumb! She looked up at me, her eyes bright and glistening. "Kiss me, quick!"

But she did not wait for me to start things. She leaned in and kissed me, hard, open-mouthed, greedy. Her tongue tasted like the wine she had been drinking, as she probed it into my mouth, deeply.

One hand stayed on my cock while the other cupped the back of my neck, holding me in place. When she finally pulled back, a glistening string of saliva connected our lips for a second. Her face was red from exertion and arousal. "Enough of that, I want to feel you in me," she grunted. "Right here. Right now."

She stood in one fluid motion, gathered the hem of the maxi dress, and pulled it over her head. She was not wearing a bra, something I already knew, but she was not wearing panties either. In the dim light, her mass of soft, white skin glowed, showing off her heavy, swaying breasts, wide hips, and a huge silver bush between her thick thighs. Her fat pink labia were engorged and visible below the long strands of her pubic hair.

Stretch marks like silver rivers on her belly and breasts only made her look even more fertile. She pushed me gently back against the sofa, straddled my lap, facing me, and then looked down between us to guide my cock to her entrance, moving her breasts and her necklaces to the side to see down between us. Her pussy was already slick and ready. She rubbed the head of my cock between her labia until it was situated where she wanted it, then she put both hands on my shoulders, and she began to press into me.

She sank down slowly, inch by inch, eyes fluttering shut as she took me. "Sweet Gaia above," she hissed. "That's... that's deep." Her weight settled fully; our pelvises met. For a moment, we just breathed together, connected, her breasts wet with sweat, lying on my belly as she leaned forward, her necklaces crackling together between her tits.

Then she began to rock with slow, rolling motions, grinding her clit against my pubic bone while her breasts swung heavily against my chest. I grabbed two handfuls of her ass and thrust up to meet her. She moaned, her guttural noises sounding a lot like her sister, and when I thought about it, like her daughter and granddaughter as well.

"Yes. Like that. Harder, boy. You are filling me up. Whoa, Nellie, how I have needed this!" We found a nice rhythm, her soaking pussy that had pushed out eight kids, not particularly tight, but so satisfyingly deep. She was bouncing on my lap, seating my cock as deep as it could go with room to spare, something rare in this summer of boldness. The sex with Mrs. Cadwallader was urgent, with sloppy wet noises and the sofa creaking beneath us.

Her beads clacked against my shoulders and chest, and sweat slicked the valley between her breasts. Her nipples were inviting, so I lifted her fat titty so I could catch one of her nipples in my teeth. I sucked one fat, dark pink nub, then the other. She slowed the bouncing, putting one hand on my cheek and the other under her titty to guide it into my mouth. "That's right, Baby, suck it for Momma, you know just what I need. Just what I need to get close, just what I need..."

She suddenly dropped all her weight onto my cock, leaning forward, her nipple still in my mouth. She hissed, "Bite it, you motherfucker!" I gave her what she wanted, biting the base of the nipple down by her areola while she squeezed my head to her bosom. She howled like a banshee.

That was enough to send me over the edge. I simultaneously roared as I held her hips tightly pressed onto my cock, pumping load after load of cum deep into her pussy.

She fell against me, and we both breathed heavily, recovering from the exertion. When our breathing steadied, she sat up, lifting herself off my chest, and looked down at me with a smile. She kissed me lightly on the lips. "My goodness, Nate, that was wonderful. Thank you so much for giving an old lady a thrill."

Before I could say anything in response, we heard the sliding doors to the living room scrape open as someone stepped in and closed the door. Mrs. Cadwallader began to frantically try to step down on the carpet to get off of me, when a voice behind us said, "Shhhhh, Millie, calm down, it's me, Agnes."

Mrs. G. She had been watching after all, and I guess she had followed us.

Mrs. Cadwallader froze mid-scramble, one thick thigh still draped over my lap, her heavy breasts swaying pendulously as she twisted toward the door. A thin sheen of sweat glistened across her collarbone and between those enormous, flushed tits. My cock, still half-hard and slick from our frantic coupling, slipped free with a wet sound that seemed obscenely loud in the sudden quiet. We both moaned as we disengaged.

Mrs. G stood just inside the threshold, backlit by the faint hallway glow leaking through the gap between the doors; the party music was still indistinct but sounded louder.

The top two buttons of Mrs. G's pink blouse were now undone, so the deep cleavage between her full, straining breasts was even more pronounced. In one hand, she held a half-empty glass of white wine; the other rested casually on the doorknob she had just eased shut behind her.

Mrs. G clicked the door shut and did something that Mrs. Cadwallader and I had overlooked; she slipped a catch over the knobs, locking the doors.

"Stop struggling, Millie," Mrs. G repeated, softer, almost amused. She took two measured steps forward, the carpet muffling her low heels. "No need to panic. The music's loud enough to wake the dead, and half the party is already three sheets to the wind. Nobody's coming in here for a while, at least."

Mrs. Cadwallader exhaled a shaky laugh, still straddling my thighs, making no real effort to cover herself, with my cock, half hard, propped between our crotches, resting in her damp bush. Her silver pubic hair was matted and dark with our combined fluids. She said, "Agnes Gianopulos, you sneaky old bat. How long have you been standing out there listening?"

"Long enough to know you didn't waste any time enjoying your family's secret." Mrs. G's eyes flicked down to where our bodies were still joined in a sticky, obscene tableau. Her gaze lingered on my cock, glistening and twitching, before she met my eyes. A slow smile curved her lips. "My, my, Nate. You have impaled another of the town's pensioners."

I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the cooling sweat on my skin in the air con, the musky sex scent hanging thick in the air, and the way Mrs. Cadwallader's weight pinned me comfortably in place. "Look, Mrs. G... I didn't mean for... You see, it was..."

"Save the stammering, Darling," she interrupted gently. She set her wine glass on the marble coffee table with a soft clink, then reached down and began unbuttoning the rest of her blouse with practiced ease. "I've followed you two since Millie slipped away from the grill. I saw the way she enticed you, like you were a stray she planned to take home. And I thought to myself... why should she have all the fun?"

The blouse parted. Her white bra that I had spunked into weeks ago at the start of the summer could barely contain the heavy, pendulous swell of her breasts. She shrugged the fabric of her blouse off her shoulders and let it drop to the carpet, standing there in slip, skirt, and heels, looking every inch the horny retired school librarian she was.

Mrs. Cadwallader chuckled low in her throat, finally lifting herself off me with a reluctant sigh. My cock lay wetly against my belly as she dismounted, sliding to the side, leaving a shining smear across my skin. She didn't bother retrieving her dress just then. Instead, she settled sideways on the sofa beside me, one arm draped possessively around the back of my head along the couch cushion while her free hand idly traced patterns through the spunk and pussy secretions on my stomach.

"Well, Agnes, this is just like the old days, when my sister and I would share a particularly inviting gentleman in the parlor." She reached over and gave my stiffening cock a friendly squeeze and a waggle.

It jerked in her grip, almost fully extended for another round. Mrs. Cadwallader went on, "I suppose if you are here and your bosom is hanging out, it means it is your turn, but I am telling you that you'd better get those clothes all the way off, or I will take the next ride myself."

Mrs. G stepped closer, so that I could smell her perfume again, that same floral-spicy cloud she was wearing that first afternoon in her laundry room and later in her bedroom, a smell I had not forgotten all summer. She looked down at me sprawled on the velvet sofa, cock glistening, with a grin on my face since I was bookended by two disrobed, voluptuous grandmothers who were regarding me with lust.

She shook her head with a little smile. "You look mighty proud of yourself, Nate. But Agnes is right. I think," she murmured, reaching for the zipper at the side of her skirt. "I've waited long enough for my turn."

The zipper rasped down. "And Nate, Darling... you owe me. Remember? You promised we'd continue our discussion." The skirt slid over her hips and pooled at her feet, revealing a slip and sheer pantyhose. "Consider this the continuation."

She pulled her slip over her head, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of the pantyhose and peeled them slowly down her thighs, never breaking eye contact with me while I held my hard-on up for her. Her granny panties already darkened at the crotch; Mrs. Cadwallader was watching her as well, idly stroking her damp bush, her arm still around the back of my head.

"Now," Mrs. G said, stepping out of the hose and panties and kicking them aside, "Let's see how your recovery powers are." She stepped over my legs, grabbing my cock as she did, her leg between Mrs. Cadwallader and me, touching us both.

Mrs. G grinned broadly. "Oh, Millie, I have never touched another woman's bare body before, and certainly not in a sexual way, but this is so naughty and exciting." Both women giggled.

Mrs. Cadwallader said, "I thought I would recoil from touching another woman. My goodness, I gagged when I read those lesbian scenes in "Looking for Mr. Goodbar," but this is nice."

Mrs. G nodded, her fingers tightened around my shaft as she maneuvered to straddle me properly, knees sinking into the velvet cushions on either side of my hips. Mrs. Cadwallader stayed close, her heavy breast brushing my shoulder, her hand behind my head twirling her finger in my hair, her other hand on Mrs. G's shoulder.

As Mrs. G eased down onto my cock, Mrs. Cadwallader touched Mrs. G's nipple closest to her through Mrs. G's bra. "Show us your bubbies, Agnes. I had no idea how much of a turn-on another woman's breasts could be. You have been hiding them under cardigans and sensible blouses all these years. Shame on you! You can feel how much Nate appreciates them."

Mrs. G laughed breathlessly, reaching back to unhook her bra with one practiced flick. The white lace sprang free, and her breasts tumbled out, heavy and slightly pendulous, nipples already dark and stiff from the cool air and anticipation. Mrs. Cadwallader squealed and clapped her hands together. "My goodness, Agnes, they are stunning! No stretch marks, like on my udders, and such wonderfully pink nipples!"

This running commentary from Mrs. Cadwallader was turning me on even more than I had been. Mrs. G's tits were larger than I had remembered from that frantic handjob in her bedroom, rounder, softer, with wide areolas pink like the ones on a Playboy centerfold but way bigger.

Mrs. G leaned forward, pressing those warm, bare mounds against my chest while she guided my cock to her entrance. The thick outer lips of her labia were swollen and slick, parting easily around the head as she rubbed me back and forth.

"Feel that, Nate?" she whispered against my mouth. "That's how wet you've made me all summer, just thinking about this." She sank down an inch, then another, eyes fluttering as my cock stretched her. "Ohhh... yes. Just like I imagined it would be."

Mrs. Cadwallader slid closer, her free hand slipping between Mrs. G's thighs to stroke the place where we joined. Her fingers brushed my shaft on every slow descent, then touched Mrs. G's clit, pressing so it stayed in contact with my shaft as I slid in and out of Mrs. G.

Mrs. Cadwallader's eyelids were lowered with lust. "Do you like that, Agnes? I am touching you, I am touching another woman who is having sex! Oh my goodness, I would watch Ellie getting rutted by those soldiers, but it was nothing like this! Look how obscenely wide he is pushing open the lips of your fanny! With that whole length sliding into you! I can barely breathe, I am so excited! Ride him nice and deep. Let the boy fill you up the way he filled me!"

Mrs. G began to move, slowly at first, savoring every inch, then faster, hips rolling in a steady, hungry rhythm. Her breasts bounced against me with each downward plunge, but remembering how it set off Mrs. Cadwallader, I caught one of Mrs. G's fat nipples between my lips and sucked hard, drawing a sharp cry from her throat.

Mrs. Cadwallader watched for a moment, made a tentative move, then leaned in with gusto and claimed the other nipple, tonguing it wetly while her hand rested on the back of my head. I could smell Mrs. G's pussy on Mrs. Cadwallader's fingers.

The room filled with wet, rhythmic sounds, Mrs. G's flesh slapping my lap, the sofa creaking, the soft clink of Mrs. Cadwallader's beads as she sucked on Mrs. G's nipple, the low, guttural moans rising from both women. Mrs. G's pace quickened; her thighs trembled, inner walls fluttering around me.

Mrs. G groaned. "Oh, Nate... you're so thick... so deep..." She ground down hard, circling her hips, grinding her clit against my pubic bone. "Don't you dare hold back. Fill me up like you filled all the other whores in town! I am so close, give me what I need, Darling!"

I couldn't have held back if my life depended on it. The sight of these two naked, mature women, one riding me with her tits flying around, the other talking dirty and sucking and stroking, pushed me right to the edge.

I grabbed Mrs. G's wide hips, thrusting up to meet her on the next downstroke, burying myself to the hilt. She threw her head back with a broken cry. "Yes, oh yes, oh fuck, Nate, RIGHT THERE!"

Her pussy clamped down like a fist, rippling along my length as her orgasm hit. She shuddered violently, nails digging into my shoulders, a long, keening wail escaping her as she came hard around me. That vise-like grip was too much; I roared, hips bucking as I unloaded deep inside her, pulse after thick pulse flooding her spasming channel.

Mrs. G kept grinding through it, milking every drop, until we were both trembling and gasping.

For a long moment, nobody moved. Mrs. G slumped forward against my chest, panting, her sweat-slick breasts pressed to my skin. Mrs. Cadwallader kissed her neck and cheeks softly, then she kissed mine, murmuring, "Beautiful. Just beautiful. Your lovemaking was such a beautiful thing."

Eventually, Mrs. G lifted her head, kissed me slowly and deeply, then eased herself off me with a wet, reluctant sound. My cock slipped free, glistening and spent, a milky trail of our combined fluids already leaking from her puffy lips and down her inner thigh.

Mrs. Cadwallader helped her stand, steadying her with an arm around the waist. "Come on, Love. We can't stay in here forever. Eddie will start wondering where his granny went."

Mrs. G laughed shakily, reaching for her discarded clothes. "Let him wonder. He's too busy chasing those 18-year-old girls to notice much else. Now, Elaine, his mother, might notice. Isn't that right, Nate?"

I shrugged while I pulled on my jeans. They dressed quickly and efficiently, almost as fast as I did. Mrs. Cadwallader retrieved her maxi dress and slipped it over her head; Mrs. G deftly put her bra back on, then her slip, undies, and pantyhose, smoothing things with a shimmy as she buttoned her blouse.

When we were all put together, Mrs. Cadwallader unlocked the double doors and cracked one just enough to peer out. The backyard noise rolled in. She turned to Mrs. G and me with a smile. "No one is the wiser. Party's still going strong."

Mrs. Cadwallader then looked down at the mustard-yellow fabric on the sofa we had just been on. She put her knuckle to her teeth. "Oh, my. There is a wet spot the size of the whole middle cushion! Elaine is going to have kittens!" Then she moved her hips from side to side. "How can the cushion be so wet, when it feels like I have an entire raw egg dripping out of my fanny? Nate, what have you done to us? No wonder you were able to impregnate my entire family!"

The two women glanced at each other with a goofy look on their faces when Mrs. G added, "I was wondering how to describe what is sliding down my thigh. Raw egg is exactly right. He has balls as big as eggs, so it makes sense." The women hugged each other, one arm around the other's shoulders, their heads touching, and they laughed.

Mrs. G paused in the doorway, looked back at me with a wicked little smile. "We should go out, one by one, but you come see me soon, Nate. We still have... other unfinished business." She blew me a kiss and slipped out.

Mrs. Cadwallader and I looked at each other for a few minutes, then she winked. "And don't be a stranger at my place either, young man. If you see the green e flag flying from my flagpole, stay away, since those insufferable Gaia nuns are visiting. But any other time, I will be available for a renewed acquaintance!" She blew me a kiss and slipped out.

I waited another minute, until my heart rate finally slowed, then followed. Outside, the sun was lower now, string lights glowing against the dusk.

Eddie waved from across the yard, holding up another beer. Mrs. Hartwell glanced over from the grill, met my eyes for a single knowing second, then turned back to the chicken with a secret smile. I grabbed the bottle Eddie offered, took a long swallow, and tried to act normal. That is, as normal as I could be when a dozen women I had fucked that summer were all glancing my way. And even as crazy as all that was, I smiled.