This is a much shorter story than I normally write, ie. A "Quickie"
My older brother Michael and I (Kevin) have been raised by our grandmother since we were little. Our father was never in the picture and our mother had a serious drug problem that eventually lead to her losing custody of us. Honestly leaving her was for the best, but moving in with grandma was only a slight improvement.
It seemed the apple didn’t fall far from the tree with her and our mother. She gave birth to our mom young, and our mom had us young, so she found herself a grandmother of two before her 35th birthday. Just like with us, our mother never had a father around, so we never had a grandfather. Grandma hadn’t wanted to be a mother in the first place, and now didn’t really like having to take care of us (which she let us know, daily). But when we were sent to live with her she reluctantly agreed, mainly for the government assistance.
She wasn’t like other grandparents, first of all she’s much younger, and prettier than most, but she also isn’t warm or caring. She smokes and drinks heavily, and undoubtedly uses drugs. She hasn’t been in a relationship with a man in the 10 years we’ve been living with her, but we’ve seen many come and go. She has a small 2 bedroom home where the room Michael and I share is right next to hers, and it’s never bothered her to have loud sex within earshot of us. This was probably less of a concern when we were 5 and 6, but now that we’re teenagers it’s far more noticeable. After puberty hit me, I spent more than one night masturbating in the dark, peering through cracked doors as I watched her getting fucked by some random guy.
But the worst part was that on top of her questionable parenting choices, she was also incredibly strict, to the point of abusive. We grew up being hit by her constantly and for the most miniscule offenses. Wetting the bed, spilling a cup of water, or even just basic childhood misbehaviors like talking back or crying because we didn’t get something. I’m not saying we were perfect kids, but the punishments didn’t really fit the crimes! She’d say things like
“If you’re going to live with me you’re going to respect me!” or
“I will not have you turn out like your mother!”
“It’s not my job to love you, just keep you alive!”
Who knows, maybe she has good intentions, but it has never felt like it. Michael and I regularly complained to one another, and talked about running away or telling someone, in particular, our social worker, Nicole.
We were technically foster children to our grandmother. And as such we had a social worker who was required to check up on us. We always kept our mouths shut about being mistreated, mainly our of fear, but also because we wanted a reward. Our grandma usually started being really nice the week leading up to the visit, taking us to a theme park, and out for ice-cream, that way when Nicole would ask what we’ve been up to, those were the first things that came to mind. The nice treatment usually lasted a for a few days afterwards too, because Nicole would always give us her card again and remind us that if anything is bothering us to call her, so grandma tried to keep the charade going while that was fresh in our minds.
We had a visit coming up and Michael had a bruised and swollen cheek from my grandmother. She had told him to take the trash out and he didn’t do it fast enough so she hit him with a shoe. This was just a week before the visit so he was determined to say something this time. Grandma took us to the movies and out to eat and shopping in the days leading up to the visit, but Michael wasn’t having any of it, he made it visibly obvious that these petty bribes were not going to sway him, he told me a dozen times a day that he was fed up and was going to make her pay for being such a bitch to us. But then on the day of the visit, he said nothing! I couldn’t believe it. I gave him looks of disbelief, trying to ask him “what was going on?” with my eyes, but he just kept shaking his head at me. He told Nicole that his injury was due to an accident in gym class, and that was the end of it. It wasn’t my place to speak up if he didn’t want to, so I said nothing too. That night in our room I asked what had caused his change of heart, but he didn’t really have a reason he just said that he had “decided not to bother with it”, and gave me the impression that he wanted me to drop it, so I did.
I woke up in the middle of the night needing to take a piss. I sat up and saw that Michael’s bed was empty, he must’ve been in the bathroom himself. So I laid in bed and waited. Several minutes went by and he had still not returned, it shouldn’t take this long, I thought to myself, and now I really needed to pee. So I got up and ventured out. When I opened the bedroom door I stopped, the bathroom was directly across from our room and it’s door was open and dark. I turned to check his bed again, wondering if my sleepy eyes had just imagined it was empty, but he wasn’t in it. To be honest I was about to just shrug it off and go to the bathroom, but then I heard a noise. It sounded like a voice coming from down the hall in the living room. So I figured it was Michael, maybe watching TV? Which wasn’t allowed this late.. So I was curious. When you go to inspect a mysterious noise in the middle of the night, you always try to imagine what you’re going to find, as a way of preparing for what you may need to do.. Like if it’s a burglar? Aliens? Zombies?... But there was no way of preparing for what I was going to see.
I stopped at the end of the hall and peeked around the corner to see my grandmother on her knees, kneeling in front of a man who was sitting on the sofa. Her back was to me but there was little doubt what was going on (I’d seen it before). Her head bobbed up and down with a steady rhythm that echoed a soft wet sound into the air. I felt my pecker stir and stiffen and I reached for it. I rubbed myself through the fabric of my pajama bottoms until I was fully erect then I pulled it out through the opening and began to masturbate. I watched her intently, listening to her suckling and gentle moans. Imagining the sensation of sliding my virgin meat into her mouth and feeling the vibrations of her groans down my shaft and into my balls. I’ve watched this scene before, from the same spot, working my penis in the same way. The guy didn’t matter, she rarely saw the same guy twice, but I always hated them. Hearing their heavy breathing, their murmured words of satisfaction and eventually their grunts of pleasure as they came into my grandmother’s mouth, while I was left cumming into my hand. Almost on cue, the man began to whisper.
“Yes that’s it!”, her head moved faster working to finish him off. My hand worked faster as well, I felt my own orgasm building. “Don’t stop grandma, I’m going to cum!” My eyes shot up to the man’s face, obscured in the dark, but as my eyes focused I could see that this was not some man she’d brought home, it was my brother, her grandson!
The words didn’t stop her as she picked up her pace, he clawed at the sofa cushions and growled through his teeth as he felt his load working it’s way up. My eyes darted between them, taking it all in, but still uncertain about what I was watching. I felt a surge inside me and realized that I hadn’t stopped jerking off. The surprise of watching my brother getting head from my grandmother somehow hadn’t deterred me from wanting to cum, in fact I was more aroused than ever! I reached out and cupped a hand in front of my prick, while Michael cupped a hand on the back of grandma’s head. We came at nearly the same time.
Normally I would’ve snuck away at this point, but I was drawn to the performance in front me, I needed to see more, see some type of explanation for why this was happening. When she had swallowed his load and cleared her throat she stood up, looking down at her drained grandson, unable to move just yet.
“Was that good?” He nodded. “You did a good job today.” She said, still whispering, “I appreciate you not saying anything… we have to remember to look out for our family.”
“Ya.. Sure.” Michael panted. He began to stand up. I quickly and quietly snuck back into my room, wiping myself off on a dirty shirt, and climbed into bed. A couple minutes later he snuck in too.
“Michael?” I rubbed my eyes pretending like he woke me. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, I just had to go to the bathroom.” He lied.
“Oh ok.” I sat up, “Ya, I gotta go too, g’night.”
I caught them a few more times over the next couple days. She said she needed to talk to him while I was doing homework, so they went into her room and closed the door. I pressed my ear to it and heard the familiar slurps and groans of a young man getting his knob polished by his grandmother. But she wasn’t limiting him to head. I also caught them having sex. At night on the floor of the living room, I watched her ride him, bare breasts bouncing freely as he lay there enjoying the view. I made myself cum again. He still never told me that any of this was happening, it made me resent him, out of jealousy mostly, but also because we were so close and told each other everything, until now. He was having sex with an actual woman (albeit our grandmother) while I was left desperately watching and pleasuring myself in the shadows.
Several days later, I came home late from school, having attended a meeting for a club I was in. I opened the door softly, almost out of habit now, as I always felt I was sneaking around avoiding detection in case they were in the middle of something. I walked in and the house seemed empty, so I went down the hall to my room. I heard a thud come from my grandmother’s room, her door was next to ours and it was partly open. Then I heard her voice.
“I said NO! This is over, I told you that already! You need to listen to me, or..” she was angry, yelling.
“Or what!?” Michael yelled back. I peeked inside. They were both standing defiantly in each other’s faces. “What are you going to do, tell someone?! Tell them that you hit us all the time and that you blew me so I wouldn’t tattle on you! Or that you began fucking me too!? Your own grandson! And what, now that you decided it’s over I just have to accept it, and still keep your secrets out of the kindness of my heart?! I don’t think so! If you want to stop, fine, but I’m going to call the cops, my social worker, the news, everybody!!” Her face softened with fear, and her stance weakened. We were both taller than her, but her personality and power had always made her seem so big.. She finally looked small, and frail.. Defeated. “When I say suck, you suck! When I say fuck, you fuck! You can either be my whore and continue to get your government checks, or I will make you pay! So what’s it going to be?!” He stared down at her.
“Fine.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes as she spoke, “Just don’t tell anyone.”
“Good. There will be no more discussion about it. Now FUCK.”
Slowly she turned her back to him and undid her pants. She pulled them off, then her panties, and crawled on to her bed. She stayed there, obediently on her hands and knees, while Michael pulled his pants down and shoved his tool into her. He screwed her hard and triumphantly, while she held her head low, no sounds at all. I watched the whole thing, watched him cum, but I never touched myself. I felt bad for her, her choices had led her here, but I still felt bad. Michael finished, pulled up his pants and walked out. When he opened the door I was standing there, making it known that I’d witnessed the whole thing.
“Kevin!?” He gasped, and stepped back. My grandmother jumped to her feet, stumbling as she pulled up her pants. His face was shocked, and a little confused, not sure about what to say to me. But I said nothing, I just stared at him. A look of contempt washed over him. No matter that it was wrong, he looked unashamed, he didn’t care what I’d seen him do, and he walked past me, down the hall and out the front door. I turned back to my grandmother.
“Oh thank God Kevin! Did you see what he did to me?! I don’t know what happened, I couldn’t stop him, we need to call the cops, you have to tell them that you saw him RAPE me!” She was cowering in front of me, a victim. She wanted me to be her witness, to paint Michael as the bad guy, tell them what I’d seen…. But not what I’d heard.
“Should I tell them about seeing you hungrily sucking his dick after he lied to Nicole like you told him to? Or when you rode him until you both came?” I spoke calmly… Her eyes widened in terror. I reached down and unzipped my pants. Her eyes darted to my hands as I pulled out my eager cock. “When I say suck, you suck. When I say fuck, you fuck. You can either be our whore and continue to get your government checks, or we will make you pay.. Now SUCK.” There was hesitation, but she knelt in front of me. She looked up, hoping I might have a change of heart, Instead I grabbed the back of her head and pulled her forward.
It was an incredible sensation, nothing like mere masturbation. She sucked dick like a woman with years of experience and it showed. I doubt she did it to make it enjoyable, simply to make it quick, and it worked. I came in minutes, the most powerful, gushing orgasm I’d ever had. I could feel each thick load pumping up my shaft and out of me. It was almost painful, nothing like the watery stuff I normally sprayed out. My entire body shook, I had to grip my grandmother’s head for support which inadvertently thrust my cock to the back of her throat, causing her the gag and resist, but I didn’t release her, I couldn’t. It lasted longer than any climax I’d given myself, and I wasn’t complaining. In fact the act of cumming lasted longer than it took for her to make me cum! I finally gained some composure and let her go, she pulled away looking angry and disgusted, but she didn’t say anything. I tucked my dick away and zipped myself back up. I walked towards the door and stopped and turned back to her, still kneeling on the floor.
“That was great grandma! Thanks!” I smiled, “I’m going to go do my homework and then I’ll be back!”