Age Matters Not

Age Matters Not

Written by Amnoartist

Chapter 1

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: All characters partaking in sexual intercourse in this work of fiction are aged over eighteen and consenting.

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Dolores grunted, pulling her massive, vein-laden frame into a most muscular, compelling every inch of it to creak with mass, her bikini already split in various places while still somehow intact.

Her left leg out in front, she smiled as a hand slid its way down her sweaty quad, past the wet patch at her crotch until the tips of her fingers met her knee. She smiled into the mirror. Ninety-two; ins spite of all the wrinkles that came with such an age, she had muscles that so sharply contrasted then, with an energy level to accompany them.

A single bead of sweat trickled down her brow, curving at her left eye to fall down to her gaping mouth, mesmerised by her own massive, incomparable hugeness. That single bead of sweat, for how small a thing it was, bore testament to her hours-long workout of an obsessive nature.

The dumbbells sat on the benchpress near her, dripping with the old woman's perspiration, the metallic frame glistening, bearing a weight of 3000lbs max.

"HNNNNNGGHH! She pulled her arms up into a double bicep pose, so heavy with mass she struggled to lift them. Nevertheless, that very moment of struggle forced a spurt of growth to take place, making it easier for the woman to lift her limbs into the proud pose.

With a twang her bikini humorously flew off her monumental chest, revealing the flat-chested pectoral tissue that was once underneath.

She turned to the right where a pair of eyes watched from within a wardrobe, with excited breaths escaping in tandem. That same pair of eyes soon bulged as Dolores approached the wardrobe.

"If you're going to jack off to me"—Dolores pulled open the wardrobe with such force, its doors split free from their hinges, revealing the person who hid behind them --"at least do it where I can see you."

His hand clutching his shaft, Samuel nodded, shame gripping him tightly. He was just so small in comparison to Dolores in almost all respects. The only advantages he had over the older woman were being a younger age and taller.

"Look at you"—Dolores smiled, looking at Samuel's evident hardness --"beating off to your dear old Mama. She gripped his shaft, caring not for the fact it was her own son's. "What would Granny Ellen think?"

"She'd encourage..." Samuel sighed, his mother gripping his shaft tighter.

"Exactly! I'm proud of myself, you know. You were able to give me what"—she started to tug --"your father couldn't."

Samuel resisted, but with each passing moment Dolores' stroking only intensified, soon the all-too familiar fap-fap was heard.

"Now, now, don't hold back, not now. You weren't like that a few minutes ago, were you?" Dolores's wrinkled face formed a smile. "Just let mummy do the work, sweetie."

Samuel bit his lip. His mind was torn over what was occurring. He loved it for what it was, hated it for who was doing it, "Just... stop, please."

But Dolores only quickened her pace. Samuel's thickness firmly in the palm of her hand, she gave a small giggle, her pecs throbbing in response.

And then-

Samuel released, in small intermittent squirts, over various spots of his mother's powerful physique, which caused it to grow, overshadowing him and knocking over the dumbbells on the bench press.

Dolores shuddered, her salt and pepper hair swept back over her lats. "Thanks for the boost, hon. Now go find Granny Ellen. It's time for her hourly top-up."

Samuel begrudgingly complied, moving out of the basement to find his grandmother, while his mother returned to her posing routine, now bigger than ever!

***

Granny Ellen was so much different than her daughter. She was far more muscular, at an excess of far over 2000lb of raw, fat-free muscle. The routine sex was far superior, with Ellen having taken part in a orgy that lasted weeks without end. Her sexual prowess was renowned, say the least. But perhaps what stuck out the most for the grandmother was her age. She was looking particularly ravishing in her new bikini at somewhere over 120 years old.

One of Ellen's several dozen muscled-up husbands of various ages, Dawson, felt the same way, watching Ellen eye-fuck herself in the corner mirror. "Okay, I'm pretty sure you're a goddess, Ellen. Just...WOW!"

"Thank you, dearie." Her voice was dry and throaty, coarse. A liter's worth of cum pooled at at the supercentenarian's legs, coating the soles of her feet in white, sticky gooiness. She didn't mind. In fact, she saw it as the sought-after result of her hours-long fuckathon with her polyandrous husbands. She wiped a splodge of cum from the corner of her lip and sucked on it until there was nothing left. "You did have a lot to give this time around," she added, turning to reveal her pregnant belly, a hand cupped underneath it.

"I really don't know how you do it. Stay so sexy, I mean." Dawson wasn't even trying to hide his erection from his wife, taking it in his hand and gently stroking.

"Ahhh. Seems you still have more to give me. How thoughtful." Ellen chortled, kneeling down in front of her patient husband. She took his cock in her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze and spat on its head before stroking. "Age is just a number, baby."

Ellen's grip was tight, like a vice on a sheet of metal. But Dawson's cock had become so tough from the routine fucking of his impossible wife that it could endure her strength. His fellows across the room didn't share in Dawson's luck. For some reason, Ellen took Dawson more often than her other husbands. Probably because he was her youngest at 22. Her oldest and first spouse, a miserly 80 year-old Harold, spent more time sleeping than fucking, and her median husband, the forty-something year-old Gerry, was her second-favorite before showing early signs of erectile dysfunction. She married Charles and Paul next, her twin sons from her marriage to Harold, then Brian, a banker from East London who sired Dolores. In the years that followed, her grandson Samuel was born. Dawson didn't come into the fold until decades later, after Ellen had already married nine other men.

Dawson's ears picked up Ellen gagging on his shaft, taking his full length until her throat bulged as though snooker balls had been shoved down it. Dawson could already feel himself nearing climax for what had to be the ninth time that day. He'd come so far since his marriage to Ellen. At first, he could only ejaculate once every time they had sex over their hours-long sexual stints, but she'd since trained him to not only last longer, but offer so much more in return too.

"I'm gonna cum, Ellen," he announced. She looked at him with puppy-like, pleading eyes between gags and strokes, suggesting that was what she wanted. She was a cum-craving whore.

Dawson jerked forward as he expelled his offering, funneling it down Ellen's waiting maw in a torrent, feeling his cock and balls both flex as the river of cum was shot out. Ellen's swallows was particularly, deliberately loud. She wanted Dawson to know she was taking every drop he had to offer, leaving not even a dollop.

Ellen smacked her lips, then slapped her gut, listening to the blobs of cum within it jiggle. "That should do me until lunchtime, which is in about ten minutes."

That was when Samuel eventually appeared, his head peeking out from behind the door as he watched his grandmother trudge across the room to the weight rack near the wall. Samuel was already getting hard, Ellen postulating which set of dumbbells to choose - one ton being the lightest, twenty-five the heaviest. Of course, Samuel hoped his grandmother would choose the the twenty-fives.

He moved into the room, looking at all his sexed-out male relatives lay droopily on the bed's edge, taking particular note of Dawson's member still spurting cum as they both watched Ellen start curling. That was when Samuel noticed one of the men near the bed pillows. Unrecognizable, not of the harem Ellen had at her beck and call. Samuel guessed he may have just been a man his mother Dolores had plucked off the street during the night for Ellen's enjoyment. And judging by his appearance, that looked more and more likely the case. His balls were completely drained, appearing almost flattened like pancakes, his body gaunt and lifeless. He was dead. He had literally been fucked to death.

"Not again," Samuel grumbled softly. Turning his attention to Ellen, he tried not to think so much about the fact she'd offed her fifth male that week. Eventually, people were going to start asking questions. If they weren't already.

"It's not my fault he had nothing left to give." Ellen turned to Samuel with a smile. Dawson's cum was still dripping between her thighs, gumming and gunging up her pussy, pooling at her feet. "Three hours of fucking is pathetic, wouldn't you agree?"

"You didn't have to kill him, could've just sent him on his way." Samuel kidded himself. He knew it was impossible for the man to be sent on his way after the escapade with Samuel's great relative. "Who is he anyway?"

"Some politician, I think he said."

Samuel's heart sank. "Jesus Christ! Now people will ask questions on his whereabouts. Might even fucking come here."

"I needed a top-up, Sammy." Ellen bore down into a crab most-muscular, her entire frame creaking and rumbling with growth, her bikini straps straining and losing their integrity as her frame widened and fought for space. "You wouldn't want to miss out on that, would you?"

Samuel whimpered. He just couldn't fight the feeling coursing through him, rubbing his aching balls.

"Now c'mere. Give grandma another protein shot."

Samuel approached, his entire body magnetized to the gargantuan beauty that was his grandmother.

***

The room stank of nicotine and sweat, the usual scents found around Detective Parks' desk 24/7. Typically he didn't really like his job because it lacked any form of excitement. It was paperwork mostly, something he could do at home, but his boss just wouldn't allow him to work from home. He was practically lazy enough already.

Be that as it may, Parks' day was just about to become a lot more interesting, for lack of a more appropriate word.

"Here." Paula Andrews, Parks' partner, tossed a folder onto his desk without a care in the world. She turned her nose up at him, the coffee stain on his shirt unabashedly visible enough for all to see. "Forget about the Wilson murder case and look into this new one instead."

Parks grunted, shifting in his seat to lean forward. "But I'm almost done with this one. We've almost got the perp."

Paula scoffed. She'd only believe that if she hadn't discreetly been watching Parks for the last few days, whose time was mostly spent at his desk eating and drinking. She'd dread to think what his pastimes were when at home. "Spare the shit for the cows, Parks."

He rolled his eyes, moving his hand to reach for the folder that was labeled Dolores M. "What kind of case is this, then?"

"Hard to make out at the moment, to be honest." Paula's eyes bulged as she watched Parks heave a breath, his fat stomach straining his shirt. "Though we do have a few potentials."

Parks opened the folder, his eyes skimming through the text carelessly since, owing to personality and outward appearance, he just didn't give a shit. "Dolores Watkins, Nine-ninety-two?" He looked up at Paula. "What you getting at here? Don't tell me you're saying a ninety-two year-old is out there killing people?"

Paula shook her head. "Look at the Notable Info tab."

"Alright." With suspicious eyes Parks did as asked, sniffling back some grungy snot in the process, practically firing up Paula's gag reflex. "Aged ninety-two; started professional bodybuilding career two years ago. What? No, this is a joke isn't it? Is this your way of getting back at me for calling you a dyke or something? If it is, you gotta try harder." He offered the folder back.

Folding her arms, Paula's eyes narrowed, far from impressed by Parks' plain indirect vibe at her sexual orientation. In spite of that, the folder was no fake. "Seriously, Parks. Look into it. We need to know how someone as old as her is on a bodybuilding stage, and winning first place. And who knows, maybe you just might get somewhere with this in comparison with the Wilson case."

Parks watched as Paula walked off.