Archive of Our Own ^beta

I was eleven, I think. Aunt Clara walked up to me some ten minutes into the family reunion. It was important.

At the time, I was sitting beneath a single enormous beech that rose high into the autumn sky and formed a thick canopy of foliage around itself in the middle of Grandpa's backyard.

I had my back pressed against the smooth bark, my attention being held hostage by my seven-year-old niece, Molly, as I lifted her into the air and she squealed in delight. She kept kicking her legs, unintentionally rewarding me with glimpses of the powder blue panties hidden underneath her little denim shirt dress, she had an interesting smell in her hair. Each time I set her down she asked me to lift her up again, repeating the process.

At some point, Aunt Clara sauntered over to us as if she were just as apt to walk anywhere else. She cleared her throat and made one of those polite smiles of hers. “Now, Molly darling, let me talk to your Uncle alone for a moment. I won’t be long, sugar. Promise.” There wasn’t any protesting. She took me aside towards one of the bird feeders hanging high from its wooden post and said something along the lines of "Now, don't think I'm singling you out or anything but keep in mind Grandpappy's gonna wanna get to know all of his granddaughters and grandnieces if you know what I mean.” She made emphasis with a playful slap against my torso. “So try not to bother him too much. Oh! And be sure to knock on doors before walking in all willy-nilly."

She left me with just that. At the time, I wasn’t sure what exactly she had meant so I took everything said at face value. I hadn’t gotten to know Grandpappy in any way that mattered and didn’t know about his tendencies. I met him for the first time that September since he had lived out of state and kept a relatively busy lifestyle. He had his other grandchildren keeping him occupied anyway.

He hosted a radio show that was quite popular in the south where he rambled on about political topics we weren’t allowed to discuss over supper or any other family occasion really. Either way, that profession earned him enough money to afford a sizeable neoclassical-styled home that used to belong to a senator. Though he only let his wife and any of his preferably young female relatives live there with him, for a reason he explained himself.

He settled his heaviness into a patio chair. “Come along, boy, let Grandpappy speak some wisdom.” Grandpa made me sit on his knee like Santa Claus, though his white beard wasn’t quite thick enough. He had the signature pot belly for sure but in his straight-laced polo shirt and jeans, he had the demeanor of a patriarch who just as quickly as he’ll let you ride on his shoulders would take you behind the woodshed and tan your hide bright red.

I made sure not to challenge his reasoning: “You see, boy, a young buck’s got to get up early each morning, work his tail off for his woman, his offspring, and earn his own abode, his own share of land. He’s just gotta. Otherwise, he doesn’t even get the opportunity to toughen up and become a man. Now what kind of Grandpappy would I be if I didn’t let my own seed earn their place in the world and become men?”

I thought about the story Dad told me about Uncle Clay who was on hard times and begged Grandpappy to let him take one of the empty guest rooms. Uncle Clay even offered to pay rent but was turned down anyway and made to live on the streets for a solid year. He’s had a grudge against Grandpappy ever since. “A bad one,” I responded with no commitment.

“Exactly. Exactly.” He let me off his knee and patted me on my rear end with enough force to send a jolt up my spine. “Now, run along, I think your Mama wanted you.”

My mama didn’t want me.

Instead, two of my older, more physically built cousins kept egging me on to play football with them so I finally obliged, having nothing to do. They played about as rough as I expected. Neither of them had any qualms about tackling a kid four years younger than them with their full body weight. Just fifteen minutes of playing gave me a couple of scratches so I slipped away from my cousins and asked one of my aunties where I could find a bandaid.

I was told to head inside, climb the staircase and search inside the closest bathroom, there were bandaids there. It should’ve been the second door on the right.

Walking through Grandpa’s house was intimidating by yourself. The manor was large and expansive on the inside so much so that I couldn’t imagine how the place could feel like home to any sane person. It was like traveling through the insides of some living creature in hibernation, each expensive piece of furniture an organ that shouldn’t be moved or touched.

For comfort, I put my hands on both railings as I climbed the stairs as if I would tumble down and hurt myself the moment I let go. Further up, the hallway lights were off. I felt like I shouldn’t have been there. Like I would’ve been scolded by Grandpappy if he caught me. After a few steps, I picked up on a faint squeaking noise. It became louder at the top of the stairs, in the hallway. Then I was sure I wasn’t hearing things.

All of the doors were shut and seemed as if they would never open for my foreign hands. Darkness spilled out from the seams at the bottom of the doors, except for one, where the noise seemed to be coming from.

A narrow stretch of orange light came from underneath the door at the end of the hall. There were softened voices coming from behind it, a bed creaking and buckling under intense animated pressure like sleepovers where my friends and I would jump on the bed. There was Grandpa’s gruff drawn-out moaning, the sort of pained low resonance that only his vocal cords could have made.

“Mmmm! Mmm! Yeah! Baby! Mmmm! Thatta girl! That’s right,” A hand loudly spanked against ample flesh, “Tighten up on Grandpappy’s dick! Squeeze that pussy! Squeeze it! Thatta girl! Thatta girl!"

It was so close. Something sprang up inside my shorts. I only had a vague understanding of what sex was at the time and how my body reacted to it. Really, I didn’t know what was happening to me but I didn’t hate it.

When I cracked open the door, the first thing I noticed was Molly’s discarded shirt dress thrown across the back of the office chair in front of Grandpa’s desk. It seemed like a different object then, different from the one I had been touching an hour ago. Her blue panties were on the floor, near the bed, seeming so tiny now that they were removed.

Both of them were completely naked.

Molly wrapped both her arms around one of the pillows, her blue eyes glinted over and unfocused with overwhelming pleasure, her once neat brunette pigtail buns having become messy. She moaned, “Ahhh! Ahh! Ah! Oooh! Ahh!” as Grandpa’s beer belly papped against her round bare bottom at a powerful but steady pace.

The old man’s enormous body was laying on top of Molly’s prone form, forcing every bit of his potbellied weight into mercilessly pummeling his seven-year-old granddaughter’s pussy into the mattress. His hairy balls hung down like a pair of fuzzy dice, swollen and potent with saved-up sperm. They swung in harmony every time Grandpappy’s oversized cock sliced wildly through Molly’s wet hairless cunt.

At random, he’d raise a hand and spank Molly’s backside hard, leaving behind a red handprint that contrasted with her pale butt. He spanked her while continuing to slam his swollen glistening manhood deep against her little cervix.

He fucked her saying, “Mmmm! Mmmph! You’re grandpappy’s little whore, aren’t you? Say it! Who does this pussy belong to?” He paused and spanked her hard, waiting for an answer. “Who does this wet pussy belong to!?”

“Ohh! Oooh! It belongs to you, Grandpa! Aah! Ahh!”

Grandpa hammered his hips harder, excited by his little granddaughter’s submissive whimpers and moans. “That’s right! This wet baby pussy belongs to Grandpa! And since it’s mine, Grandpappy’s gonna make sure this little pussy works hard for him all night!”

“G-Grandpa?” I barely registered it as my own voice.

That surprised him. Grandpa’s large frame became stiff. His balls rose up and contracted beneath his large hairy backside. “Mmmphh! Goddammit!” He buried his manhood as deep into the seven-year-old pussy as it would go, nuzzling the entrance of her womb with his broad swelled-up glans. It was impossible to hold his load in. He was already at a point of no return, his seed surged through his thick shaft before firing out heavy potent ropes of sperm that powerfully struck the back of Molly’s womb. He could almost feel each of his little swimmers marking his granddaughter’s insides. His face became a bright shade of red as he grunted in sweet delight and emptied more of his steaming hot load into the seven-year-old.

Molly let out a mousy gasp as the warmth of his thick sperm splashed against her insides. Her grandfather’s virile semen quickly discovered Molly’s fertile little egg waiting deep inside her. No time was wasted. His army of tadpoles attacked from all sides but only one of the overzealous and oversized swimmers managed to wiggle itself inside, penetrating deep and fertilizing the little seven-year-old girl. A strange heat spread throughout her body and made her cheeks rosy.

After letting out the final spurts of semen into his granddaughter’s unprotected pussy, Grandpa became livid. He eased his softening manhood from Molly’s well-fucked pussy and tossed a blanket in her direction, affording her some modesty as she quickly cocooned herself, slippery and glistening with sex-acquired sweat.

“Dammit boy!” He bellowed, his old hairy body completely exposed as his enormous soaking-wet dick and bull nuts swung between his legs and he plodded over to me. “It’s common sense to knock, boy! You think you can just barge into rooms now!? Huh!?”

“I…” My words failed me. It must’ve angered him even more. He landed a hard backhanded slap against my cheek. The force sent me off my feet and onto the floor, clutching the soreness on my face.

“I got half a mind to whip your hide raw! Now get!” He threw out a kick. On the bed, Molly’s eyes were drowning in fear on my behalf.

I scampered down the hall. The door slammed loudly behind me before I even made it to the top of the stairs. Needlessly to say, I never got my bandaid. Though Aunt Clara gave me some ice for the bruise on my cheek. She let me cry into her chest and kept the whole thing a secret.

When supper was ready, Grandpappy was late but came down eventually, carrying Molly in his arms as if she were a toddler. Compared to his large size, she may as well have been.

Her hair and shirt dress looked only slightly rumpled but her cheeks had an obvious flush to them. Grandpa was grinning like he had won a horse racing bet. Once she was seated, I glanced under the table, pretending to look for something. The crotch of her panties had darkened to a navy blue. There was a huge amount of semen that had dried up between her legs.

Nowadays, it’s difficult to look Grandpappy in the eye.