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."
