This is a further sequel to 'The Old Fellah Needs a Hand'.
***
I was working through some difficult (for me anyway) homework at my bedroom desk when my mother's voice carried from the front door of our apartment.
"We're back!" Mum called out, "Your Nana and Grandpa have come in for a cup of tea. Come out and say hello."
"In a minute! Busy!"
I didn't mean to be so stereotypically petulant but I guess my teenage brain is just allergic to being told what to do by a parent. I stared at the incomprehensible symbols in my textbook and wondered what on Earth it could all mean. My bedroom door was pushed open.
"I said 'in a minute'!" I snapped, automatically.
"Hello angel," my Grandfather's voice was always jolly but husky through many decades of smoking a pipe.
I grinned, jumped up out of my chair and hugged him. I realised how much I'd grown since I'd last seen him, even though it was only about half a year. He cuddled me and asked how I was but I just snuggled into his neck and smelled his lovely familiar fragrance of pipe tobacco, dark rum and a cologne I don't think they make anymore; I imagined that he must have bottles of the stuff squirrelled away somewhere.
"Working hard are you?"
"Nahh, I don't really get it anyway. I'm definitely not the brains of this family."
"well, nevermind, you have a lot of other things going for you."
"Pfeeeesh! Like what exactly?"
"A beautiful woman like you? You'll do fine. Anyway, you're not such a dim bulb."
He wandered around my room, I watched him looking at my niknaks and posters.
"You and Nana alright?"
"Sure. No change. We're hanging on in there."
He looked a little uneasy, like he had something on his mind.
"I like seeing all your goings-on on the Facebook thing," he said, "All the photos of your parties and nights out with your girl friends."
"Aw, you don't wanna be looking at that embarrassing stuff."
"What's not to like? Charmingly drunk young women in exceedingly tight, short dresses!"
I blushed, "I always look like a complete pig in those shots."
"You always look delectable. Certainly the most captivating one out of your crowd."
"You have to say that, you're my grandfather."
"Nah, not just me, everyone thinks so."
'Who's everyone?' I asked myself.
"In fact, there is something you could help me with, on my phone, if you don't mind?"
"Ooookay," I rolled my eyes, there was always some modern device the old fogies needed help with, "What's gone wrong this time?"
I held out my palm. He took out his smartphone and began pressing and swiping the screen.
"It's just that my friend shared some photos he took, but I ran out of whatsit space so I couldn't see them all."
"Ran out of-"
My words dried to dust in my mouth as he handed me his phone. On the screen, in hyperpixel definition was a miniature digital me, reclined on a bed with my legs spread wide and my fingers buried in my dirty-looking snatch, seen quite clearly through my dark brown pantyhose. I flopped down on my chair, the wind taken out of me. I dropped the phone on my desk and stared at it. Grandpa leaned over and swiped through some more naked, sordid shots until he reached a close-up of my pouty lips about to suck on my elderly neighbour's cockhead.
"That one's my favourite, I think." he said, "Your lips look soooo inviting."
I sat looking at nothing, my world having just caved in. I'd experienced similar emotions at school when I was younger and was being berated (unjustly, of course) for some hideous crime. I felt I couldn't breathe. My eyes were hot with the wash of soon-to-come tears. I thought I was in serious trouble. Next to me was the sound of a zip and some shuffling. I smelled... something... I looked up and realised I was in a completely different kind of trouble.
"Look what you do to me, angel," he said.
My grandfather's pinky-red prick extended out from the fly of his trousers. I couldn't raise my eyes from his cock. It was thick, not overly long and it curved down but held itself proudly perpendicular (hey, I remembered something from geometry class). The hot secret scent of him was driving me crazy. The red head was swelling and peeking out from his foreskin which was gently rolling back as he grew and grew and grew. The increasing smell of hot masculine sex filled my senses. Acting purely on instinct, I moved my face forward and kissed the weeping slit at the tip. I felt my grandfather shudder next to me. My eyes darted up to his face and he was beaming down at me.
"You're my dream girl, honey, you know that don't you?"
I turned in my chair to face him. I slowly raised my hand and held his fine, handsome cock. Without hesitation, I eased my mouth on to the head.
"Ohhh, good girl," he groaned.
My head began to move as I sucked all his flavours, feeling his hard helmet moving in my wet mouth. He started to move his hips. His hand rested on my head, holding me in place.
"I've been dreaming of you using your pretty little mouth on me."
He started to screw my slurping mouth. I pressed my lips tightly around his shaft. He moaned in appreciation of my efforts.
"Did he teach you how to do this?"
He was talking about my neighbour, the sexy old guy I teasingly called Gramps, the pervy pensioner who had shared my secret photos with him. I looked up at him, my eyes wide with wonder at my situation, and I nodded.
We went quiet, silent almost, except for the sloshing of my mouth and his deep grunts of pleasure. My heart was beating hard and fast. He was sliding his dick further in my mouth, fucking my face. I felt so sexy to be wanted so, to be thoroughly used like a sexy, filthy slut. I wanted to strip my clothes off and have my grandfather ravish me. I was just considering this when the trusty old creaky floorboards of the hallway freaked me out. I pulled away and darted over to the other side of my bedroom just as my mother walked in.
