“Look Mummy, he’s got something dripping down his legs.” This from the other voluptuous woman. “I do believe it’s sex juice. I’ll just check.” So saying, she knelt on the floor and licked up the moisture seeping down my thigh from my cock - some from the inside, some from the outside. Molly’s.
My cock started to unfurl at the touch of her tongue sensuously sliding down the inside of my leg. The plum shaped head peeped out from under the short dressing gown and she squealed as she saw it. “Oh Mummy, isn’t that the most delicious thing,” she said, licking her lips.
“Monique, come away, you’ll scare him off,” Grandma remonstrated huffily.
“Molly, you black bitch. You’ve had him already, I can taste you on him,” declared Monique in a sulky tone, as she rose and sat down.
“You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth at my age,” Molly retorted. “And he’s got a bit of a horse cock, and he knows what to do with it. Quite the stud, the young mon.” She turned to me and said, “I’ll see you at lunch,” and with a salacious wink left the room.
“Would somebody tell me more than Monica did? She told me that she had drugged me and brought me here to be your plaything,” I said, directing my question to Grandma.
“Yes, she did very well. Look, I’ll try to explain. We are the Barents family.” She saw my eyebrow lift as I recognised the name of one of the richest families in the world, owning vast properties - mines, oil fields, finance companies and banks. They were stratospheric billionaires. “I see you know who we are. When you’re that famous, one cannot just go out and pick up a casual shag or two, the paparazzi would be all over us like flies. We prefer to remain out of the spotlight, and, since Monica’s father died, we have lived somewhat secluded lives. As for marriage, count us out. All men want is our money. Monica has brought the odd young chap home but they haven’t got past first base. You did, and I very much enjoyed it.”
“What if I want to go home?” I asked.
“You have no real home. We know all about you, Michael. We had you investigated as a potentially suitable young man after you did a job for one of our companies and Monica spotted you. We know that you like your sex, and often, although generally with model types. If you really did want to leave, we won’t stop you, but I hope you’ll give us a chance to show how grateful we are.” She smiled and looked engagingly like one those kind old grannies that TV advertisements use to con you into believing the product they’re trying to flog is the genuine article.
