Waiting for the Bus

"Come to momma," she said with arms outstretched. "Come to momma."

She was sitting at her dining room table, sweaty from a brisk morning walk and wobbly from her first man-induced orgasm in years. Her huge breasts, slick with perspiration and my saliva, were sitting atop her full belly and pulling her sweatshirt tight.

I stepped toward her, my penis erect and tenting my shorts impressively.

"Let momma see," she whispered, talking more to my prick than to me.

I hiked a leg of my shorts and pulled my cock out for her inspection. It was stiff and mushroomed and it pointed at her eagerly. She reached for me and wrapped her dark skinned fingers around my pale erection. Gently, almost tentatively, she stroked me a few times.

"So hard," she mumbled, stroking me curiously. "So hard. So ..."

My granny stopped suddenly and looked up.

"So sweaty," she said with a grin. "Need to take a shower."

She got to her feet and pulled me, by my cock, to the narrow hallway and into a small bathroom. The room was completely feminine, with pastel prints on the wall and the sweet smell of potpourri in the air. It was fresh and amazingly clean.

Leaving me in the doorway, she began to peel off her clinging clothes. She tossed her cap aside and then struggled with her damp socks before dumping them into a dainty wicker hamper. With both hands, like she had earlier, she pulled her sweatshirt up revealing her tremendous chest. This time, however, she removed it completely and threw the shirt into the hamper. Her breasts bounced incredibly as she moved about.

When she bent to take off her pants I almost lost it. Her tits hung pendulously, past her knees, and swung to and fro as she shimmied out of the tight sweats and large, extremely white panties. Her bush was wild and unkempt, not what you would expect considering the immaculate bathroom she was standing in.

"Me first," she told me as she started the water in the small shower. Leaving the frilly curtain open, she climbed under the fine spray.

I stood staring as the warm water spilled over her full figure. The water made her dark skin look perfectly smooth and shiny. She poured clear green shampoo into her hand and began rubbing her short, beady white hair with vigor. Her chest danced deliciously as she lathered and I gaped mesmerized.

Shortly, she pulled a crisp washcloth from a ceramic shelf and drizzled it with a fragrant bodywash. She started at her neck and slowly, but efficiently, began scrubbing herself. In the past, I had showered with women, but I had never actually watched a woman shower. It was breathtaking.

The suds ran down her dark chest and belly in long white lines. Her entire body looked softer and peaceful as the steam rose around her. She raised a leg slightly as she rubbed her unruly bush. Her thighs jiggled and rolled when she attended to them. She bent to clean her calves and feet and for the second time I marveled at her massive hanging breasts. Her tits were incredible, each as big as a volleyball; they were heavy and firm despite their obvious sag.

When she began lathering her breasts she looked in my direction. She kneaded them and dropped them, letting them flop about before scooping them up again in a pile of suds. She mashed them together causing pillows of bubbles to gather on her more than ample bosom. She dropped them again and they raced slickly across her protruding belly, coming to a rolling stop more under her arms than not. After rubbing her stomach like she had just completed a big meal, she reached for a towel.

The towel was larger than a regular towel -- where you buy towels that big, I'll never know. She wrapped it tightly around her buxom frame, making a glorious long line of soft, dark cleavage. Leaving the water running, she stepped out.

"Your turn," she told me, gesturing toward the shower. The room was full of steam and smelled wonderful.

I yanked my clothes off -- I was only wearing a shirt and a pair of shorts, no briefs. I left them in a pile on the floor and stepped, a little self-consciously, into the warm water.

My cock was fully erect and bobbing crazily as I washed my hair. I was working quickly and moving on to the bodywash.

"Slower," she told me, still in her towel and sprinkling herself with an after-shower splash.

I slowed and tried to scrub myself at a more leisurely pace. She was watching me intently and I was uncertain how to proceed. I washed my arms and chest and rubbed my hairy legs smooth before wrapping the washcloth around my manhood. I took my nutsack in my hands and cleaned it gently. I pulled at my erection beneath the cloth and watched her reaction.

Granny was totally enthralled. She watched wide-eyed as I stroked myself with the cloth. My pulsing head would peek momentarily from under the washcloth before sinking back in as I increased my pace.

It was obvious by the look on her face she wanted me to continue -- to finish the job; so I kept pumping. I could feel the eruption building in me and I bent slightly at the knees for balance.

"Drop the towel," I told her through clenched teeth.

She obediently let her towel slide to her ankles and I was admiring her clean, massive melons when I exploded in her tub. My spunk shot against the tiles and dripped in wet strings down her wall.

Not caring that I was soaking wet or that I left the water running, I jumped out of the shower and into her arms.

Her huge breasts pressed weighty against my wet chest as we kissed passionately. Her stiff nipples -- her bups -- dug into me as I palmed her wide, flat ass. I pushed her out of the tiny bathroom and back into the hall. I started pulling her to the floor.

"My bed is ..." she gasped, resisting.

"No," I told her, pushing her more fully onto the plush shag. "Here. Now. Not waiting."

She was on her back and I pushed her knees apart, banging each into the hall's narrow walls. I climbed between her thighs and with little hesitation sunk my cock into her wet crease. She moaned, softly at first, but louder each time I thrust deeper into her.

The pictures rattled on the walls as I fucked her beneath the Kodak stares of her countless family and friends. Was she their grandmother? Their Aunt? Mother? Sister? Or just a friend? I didn't care; at that moment she was all mine.

I pawed at her tits as they flopped under her arms and plunged my stiffness into her again and again. She rocked to my rhythm and tried to match my manic pace. Her knees were banging into the walls loudly and more than one frame fell with a crash, but we didn't stop.

She shuddered beneath me as I pressed my weight onto her round belly. I was almost there, too. My butt tightened the moment she released and I burst inside her with a growl. We shook together, eyes closed tightly, her arms pulling at my shoulders. I collapsed onto her, the narrow hall left me no alternative, and she was gasping for breath by the time I managed to climb off.

On my knees between her spread legs, a line of our combined juices still connecting us, I tried to slow my panting.

"Your bed?" I asked with a smile.

She pointed feebly past the broken picture frames to the room at the end of the hall. I helped her to her feet and we carefully made our way past the broken glass and into her bedroom ...