Sex with Grandmama

THE BUTTERWORTH SAGA CONTINUES!

I was over eighteen when my parents sent me to our ancestral home in New York City. I assumed the purpose of my visit was to meet my near and distant relatives. My father sent me so I could begin an incestuous relationship with my immediate and soon-to-be dearer Grandmother.

I had not visited our Fifth Avenue Mansion since I was a child. The driver dove uptown and dropped me off in front of the elegant Eastside address. Our neighbor's gothic building, which I remember from childhood, had been demolished and replaced with a sumptuous modern building, later purchased by the infamous Jeffrey Epstein.

My Grandmother had kind things to say about Jeffry but burst into tears before she could relate them. On a different occasion, she remarked that whoever hung Jeff missed the opportunity to see a huge swollen cock,

"That's what happens when they hang someone," she said. "My husband, God let his cock rest in peace in heaven or hell, invited Jeff over for a liaison with me when he became our neighbor. Sucking on his big dick was an authentic life experience for me. That man was hung like a donkey, a Tijuana donkey. Not only was his load as big as a donkey, but he insisted on anal after he'd completed vagina coitus. You know what 'cotus' is, boy?"

I nodded my head as my dick began to chub up. Pleased with my response, Grandma reached out from the bed where she lay and patted me on my shorts. Then she reached inside the cuff, and after a few yanks, she withdrew her hand and sucked her fingers,

"Ah, yes, you are a true Butterworth. Your cum tastes just like it was freshly churned on the farm."

Grandma said, "In recent years, we watched the parade of young women going in and out of Epstein's mansion and wondered what was happening. Since he wasn't a Butterworth, we assumed it wasn't incest. Now the rest of society knows about his secret massage sessions."

Grandma asked," Remember, boy, what was your name?"

"Anthony, Grandmother."

"Oh yes, Tony, our family's incestuous trysts must remain a secret. We spend our intimate time incestuously but do not discuss it."

Our ancestral mansion was an edifice built in 1866 after the American Civil War had run its course. General Grant used to stay there, sleeping off his drunken nightmares, with good reason. He fought a terrible, bloody war that laid the mechanized foundation for the enormous catastrophe in the First World War. General Grant was a chain cigar smoker, a drunkard, and a chronic masturbater who lived here after his presidency. With the help of Seward G. Butterworth, he wrote his memoirs. When Grant died, Seward purchased the home from the Grant estate. The Butterfields have hung their hats here and their oversized genitals for over 100 years.

If you drive north on 5th Avenue from midtown New York City, you will pass our home's exterior resembling a Greek temple. The interior decor is replete with military ornamentation, medieval weaponry, swords, pikes, and suits of armor. Many large paintings in the Italian Renaissance style, some by famous artists, hang in the halls. Seward Butterworth purchased them on his trips to Europe.

Seward's prized painting, a naked 'Mona Lisa,' was believed to be painted by Leonardo. Experts have recently questioned the authenticity of the large nude. Whether real or fake, it was the exciting subject for my many nocturnal emissions in the mansion. There is also a smaller oil painting by Grandma Moses (aka Anna Mary Robertson Moses), a nude portrait of my young Grandmother dancing the Tango in front of a mirror so all her youthful feminine endowments were visible. It hangs above Nonna's bed in her private apartment. Our home looks much like a museum.

Some notable oddities include a library with bookcases that roll sideways to reveal a hidden room that Grant used as a humidor for his cigars. An ancient nitroglycerine-proof safe was at the side entrance to the old manager's office. My older brother, Hector, explained, "When the nitro explosive was poured into the edge of the safe door, the liquid would run out through an elaborate metal channel system. No one has opened the safe in fifty years."

Hector continued, "I spent much time trying to hear the tumblers click when I'd slowly spin the combination lock wheel. I was never successful, even when attempting to open it using an old stethoscope I'd found in a flea market. Some family members say the safe is filled with gold coins; others say Grant's 100-year-old cigars. Who knows?"

After hearing his explanation, I could not wait to try my hand at the safe, but other activities required me to put my attempt on hold. I believed a secret was hidden somewhere in the mansion's stone walls. The mystery was our hidden family tradition, previously unknown to me. I was soon to learn of its existence.

In the Butterworth family, the grandmothers initiate a kind of familiarity that skeptics would call "incest." At a certain point in my visit, I was summoned to Grandmama's room and ordered to disrobe. For the life of me, I could not understand why.

"Which of my grandchildren are you, young man?" When I first met her, she spoke to me in Portuguese.

Grandmama spoke with a sexy foreign accent. I wasn't sure if it was French or what language it was, but it rolled off her tongue like honey. I learned Grandmama was born in Brazil. She had a sensual appearance: big eyes, long legs, and a permanent tan. Later, she told me she learned to dance the classic Tango in Buenos Aires, Argentina. The Brazilian language is the most romantic language on the planet.

When I did not understand her, she switched to English.

"And who might you be, young man?"

"Hello, Grandmama, I'm Anthony."

"Anthony who?"

"Anthony Butterworth, the 4th."

"Oh yes, Harold Butterworth's progeny. I was at your Christening years back. Your cock was quite small then. I hope it has grown."

"Yes, Grandmama, it has."

I looked at the old gal. Grandmother's face was smoother than I remembered from childhood. Her dark hair was full, like what you'd expect from a younger woman. She was lovely for her age, which I assumed was somewhere north of sixty years.

"I remember your father when he was a young man of 18, he was a lazy bumpkin, but Goddamn, his penis was quite overgrown. Show me your root."

"My root?"

"Your root, your cock, your dick, your Johnson. My young man, are you an idiot?"

"Oh, my penis. Yes, Mam. Here it is. I cupped my cock and balls in my left hand."

"Not much to write home about, Anthony."

"I'm sorry Grandmama."

"Your dick is rather small for a Butterworth."

"I'm sorry, Mam. It is rather cold here, but I promise it will grow."

"Come closer, boy. Would you like to suck on one of my tits? That usually is a good place to start a boner if we are talking about achieving a good-sized erection."

At that, she opened her thick floral robe, and to my surprise, there were only a few wrinkles and small freckle-like sun spots. Grandmama's tits were quite attractive. After nursing her children, her nipples were quite long. I gently placed my mouth over her left tit and began to suck. Her nipples were soft and tasted sweet. Her tits smelled like a rose garden.

"Don't be afraid; try to get the whole nipple in your mouth, open wider, and run your tongue around the alveoli, that's the darker skin that the nipple is attached to. Oh yes, young man, that feels good, oh my, now you are getting my pussy juices flowing."

She lost no time pushing my face between her legs to sample her hairless pussy, fresh-tasting to the tongue.

"That's enough, Donald."

I lifted my head, my tongue still tasting her sweet labia,

"I'm Anthony, Grandmama."

"Oh, who cares, Sonny? If you've got a hard dick by now, it's time to come up for air."

I lifted my head; the room was quite dark. I saw Grandmama place her thumb inside her mouth and pull out her upper teeth, obviously false, and then the lower plate that she set adrift in a large embossed silver cup on her bed table.

"Come closer, you buffoon," Grandma shouted. "In case you are curious, your Grandfather offered me the choice of custom dental work or false teeth. Europe is deadly for teeth, with all the sweets and liquors, and I believe men's cum is more acidic on the continent. My husband, a great lover of toothless blow jobs, encouraged me to get false teeth. No man has ever complained."

As she finished her explanation, she grabbed my ass with her left arm and pulled me up to the headboard, opening her mouth to engulf my swelling knob and two balls. The experience was not unpleasant; her tongue was weaving circles around my shaft, and I was fully erect in no time. All 7 inches of my cock were deep in her mouth. I was so deep between her thick red lips that she was right up against my pubic bone; her cheeks in-sucked as she blew me like a powerful vacuum.

Her mouth was smooth, slippery, warm and wet. My cock had finally found the home it had always desired. The force of her sucking drew every ounce of sperm from my testicles. As I became fully erect, she released my balls and concentrated on my cock shaft and helmet. This action was a pocket tragedy; the sensation of sucking my balls and rolling them back and forth with her tongue was incredible. Simultaneously, her long left arm reached behind and stuffed a well-lubed finger into my tush.

That was it! I've never felt as well positioned in any woman's mouth as when my cock and balls were in grandma's mouth. Maybe first sexual experiences are like the first taste of cocaine. They tell me it never tastes as good the second time around. Being young and inexperienced, it did not take long for me to salute, not a 21-gun salute, but with the only gun I had. At the exact moment that her finger entered my butt, my dick shot forth with a forceful ejection of white cum juice. Then Grandma smiled at me crookedly, her long tongue polishing her lips.

Stupidly, "I asked, where did all my cum go?"

"Down my throat, you idiot. Now pour me a tumbler of Scotch before you get the fuck out of here. Nothing goes as well with a Butterworth's buttery cum than a good blended Scotch from the old country. Now get out. I'll call for you in three days; it will be early in the morning when your testosterone level is at its highest. Don't be jerking off in between; I want a full load of virgin cum juice from you."

"Yes, Mam, thank you."

And with that, I left, my first blow job was a glorious toothless event I would never forget.

My brother Hector, three years my senior and hung like a moose, was quick to ask,

"Did you receive the ceremonial cock suck?"

Embarrassed, I admitted I had.

"Did you enjoy it? The old gal is quite an expert cock sucker."

"I guess she is, yes it went pretty well. She wants me back in three days. Did you go through this as well?

"Yes, of course, but we were not supposed to discuss it with minors; you were under 18 when she indoctrinated me."

"Oh, that's why you never mentioned it."

"I can always stand in for you if you don't feel like going," said Hector. "Chances are the old dame wouldn't know the difference between you and me."

"But your cock is three inches longer than mine."

"I doubt if she'd remember the difference; God knows she's sucked more cocks than there are leaves on our apple tree."

"Thanks for the offer. I will let you know if I need a stand-in. It was quite an experience."

"Do you know who she is?"

"I guess she is a Butterworth?"

"How brilliant, you shitbird. Of course, she was married to Grandfather. But do you know who she was?"

"No, should I."

"She was Lola La Rue, the Argentine tango dancer who took Paris by storm. She was in a few French films, 'Belle du jour' was one. She played a whore in the bordello where Catherine Deneuve was fucked by that fat Asian actor; I think his name was Iska Khan, you know, the guy with the 'Spanish Fly Box.'

"Was that the guy called "Odd Job" in the early Bond films?"

"I think so; if not, it was his twin brother."

"Sounds like good casting. Did Grandmama suck his "odd job?"

"Hey, a little respect. Nonna was pretty wild for a woman.

Granddad, in his diary, said,

"She had sucked more cocks than the number of shots the French fired when the Nazis invaded. She was the reason that Grandfather made all those lucrative oil deals. Grandma introduced him to every important French politician. Of course, she had sucked their cocks, and performed further intimacies. Her contacts were well worth his time. We should all kiss her feet; she made the family millions."

"I didn't kiss her feet, but her pussy tasted fine."

"That's what happens when I try to be serious with you, Anthony; you make a joke out of everything."

"Well, it did taste good. It has a licorice taste."

"That's because she washes it with Pernod, that French liquor is the best friend a pussy will ever get."

"Really?"

"Anyway, little brother, you've wasted enough of my time. Just do your duty and be respectful."

"But she keeps calling me Donald."

"Donald Butterfield was her son. He was the famous car racer who died in 1984 at Le Mans after crashing into Stirling Moss. He was only 19 years old. Now, do you get it?"

"Yep, I guess she was fucking her son."

"Go fuck yourself, don't you know that is what every good Butterworth mom does with her son."

"Was it her son by Grandfather?"

"No, it was Grandfather's brother William. Lola had been his mistress for a while. When business affairs called William to the Mideast to solve problems in the aftermath of the Suez Crisis, he passed her on to Grandfather, who was a sucker for a good blow job. No pun intended. Although a cousin, whose name will remain secret, said Grandad gave as well as he received."

"That's a bit more information than I needed to know, Hector. You're saying Grandpapi was a homo?"

With that comment, my older brother smirked, shook his head, gave me the 3rd finger, and headed out to his office on the 3rd floor, where he followed the foreign market trades on Wall Street. Hector was the family's exclusive broker for International Commodities.

I wanted to lie down. I figured the old lady would surely wear me out. The next day passed uneventfully. My head was filled with sensual thoughts about my oral experience, and I thought of getting my mouth on one of chambermaid Bertha's big tits. My cock was always erect. Bertha always seemed to rush into my room when I was naked, playing a video game on my laptop. How she smiled at me led me to believe I might get the chance, especially when she looked at my erection and ran her tongue around her lips.

The sheer pleasures I'd experienced with Grandmama led me to hope to share the same with Bertha. Of course, all these sexual thoughts tempted me to masturbate, but I feared the old lady's wrath. I somehow made it through the 72 hours without losing more than a few drops of my sacred fluid.

Bertha, the chambermaid, awakened me early on the morning of my appointment with Grandmama. I was sound asleep when she entered. To wake me, she had to reach under the blanket and pull rapidly a few times on my dick to wake me up. Of course, I woke up with my hard-on in her fist.

"I'm sorry, Master Anthony, I did not know how else to wake you. Dear sir, your Grandmama has summoned you. Quickly shower and go to her as her strength is waning. Here is a large warm towel for your use."

"Thank you, Bertha."

Bertha was a tall thirty-something woman with a full head of frizzy orange curls, and her blouse was always unbuttoned just enough that I could get a glimmer of her abundant cleavage.

I rose to embrace her but did not release her until I reached inside her blouse and squeezed her right tit.

"Oh, Master Anthony, I can see you are a bad man, a true Butterworth like all the rest."

I got out of bed naked and slept nude, but my nudity didn't affect her. She followed me into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

"So, Master Anthony, is Grandmama teaching you the ropes?"

"Oh, you know about that."

"Of course, there are a few secrets I am not privy to."

I nodded.

"Once she initiates you, Master Anthony, I hope you will spend some time with me." Then she parted her skirt to reveal a very shapely mons venus and lifted her blouse to reveal two mammaries as big as honeydew melons.

I took one long look and rushed over and pulled her close. I was too clumsy to unhook her bra, but I pushed it up and buried my nose in her fleshy cushions.

"Please call me Tony."

"Oh my, Master. Anthony. We should remain formal now. We will have time to be more intimate afterward."

The maid gently pushed me away and lifted her enormous tits, fitting them back into her bra cups.

"Go now to Grandmama before you lose another drop of your precious sperm; if it is anything like your brother's, I'm sure it is delicious."

"You've tasted his..."

"I've shared the bounties of all the Butterworths, and I am all the better for each taste they have permitted me. It was your Dad who broke my hymen the day I turned 18. God, there was blood all over the place."

I was dumbfounded by her revelation. Bertha was a family sexual object. I was shocked.

"You think I am just a servant here, Master Anthony, but truthfully, I am your half-sister; your father impregnated my mother many times, and as your sister, I am here to love you and permit you whatever sexual dalliance you require. I want you to relieve yourself of any tensions and attain the calmness of a young man of your stature through frequent sessions of intercourse.--with me."

She hurriedly buttoned up, leaving me gape-mouthed as she backed out the door, smiling at me.

"Oh Jesu, the cat is out of the bag," I exclaimed.

"You mean the pussy," it was my brother Hector at the door.

"I'm going to get a taste of Bertha before breakfast," he said quite a matter of fact, and with that, he slammed the door, and I could hear his footsteps as he ran down the hall chasing after her.

Of course, Hector, not being one to keep secrets, recounted the whole episode later that afternoon of how he caught up with Bertha and pushed her into a clothes closet, where he finished her off, standing upright with her legs wrapped around him as her ass rested on a low dresser.

"You dummy, why didn't you follow me? You could have had her ass at the same time my cock was in her quim."

"I couldn't follow you because I'd been summoned to visit Grandmama. Respect, didn't you say..." But Hector was gone before I could complete my thoughts.

I went to shower, but it took a while for the water to turn from cold to warm. Far from the water heater, the bathroom requires a wait while the old cast-iron pipes warm. Once the water was warm, I stepped inside the white marble enclosure and soaped up my neck, underarms, feet, and, with special care, my cock, balls, and tate.

My dick hung plump at half mast due to Bertha's fluff job. I let the warm water stream on my cock and balls. It was stimulating, and my dicky boy started to rise. I rinsed off and used the fluffy towel to dry myself. Knowing what my appointment with Grandmama was about, I didn't bother to dress. I put on a bathrobe and went upstairs to her bedroom.

When I entered, she was touching herself between her legs.

"What took you so long, Donald? My pussy is boiling over waiting for you."

"I'm not Donald; I'm Anthony."

"Donald, Anthony-who cares? A cock is a dick is a penis-what's the difference?"

"Why do you keep confusing me with this Donald?"

"Maybe it's your big head of orangey curls. There are a few Donalds in our family. There is the famous Donald, a cousin of ours. I enjoyed sucking his cock 664 feet up in the air in his skyscraper. He was also an expert at rimming. His tongue could leave you cleaner than a colonoscopy."