Barb spent the rest of the morning tidying up the house - - doing loads of wash that included sheets and underwear, dusting and vacuuming, wiping down the refrigerator. The whole while she tried to avoid thinking about the night before. Instead, she debated whether to head back to the college to watch her grandson, Kurt.
Too hot and musty, she finally decided, recalling the effect of all those wrestlers.
She texted Kurt to tell him her decision and he replied that it was okay. He needed to concentrate anyway.
She was napping in the afternoon when the phone rang. She reached for the device next to her bed.
"Good lord, Barb," a voice squawked into her ear.
It was Crystal, her hairdresser.
"Hi Crystal," she answered.
"Good lord," her hairdresser friend repeated. And then added with some alarm: "Did you get the purple stuff from Doctor Pam?"
Barb sat up. "I did," she replied.
"Holy moly," Crystal practically shouted. "Who's the lucky guy?"
Barb's eyebrow arched. "Lucky guy?"
Crystal guffawed. "Girlfriend, you know I been telling you all about my husband, the rooster." She paused. "That's all thanks to Doctor Pam's purple tincture."
Barb's eyes saucered wide. "You mean.... "
"Uh huh, girlfriend. That stuff is the real deal. Turns the libido up to eleven. Takes down all the speed limit signs."
"Oh my gosh," Barb answered.
"Soooooo....," Crystal drew out the vowel. "Who's the lucky guy?"
An image of Kurt, his eyes squeezed shut with pleasure, his muscles straining, a growl rumbling up his throat, shot across Barb's consciousness. Except, it wasn't Kurt with the libido past eleven. It was her. Her stomach dropped. Why would Doctor Pam give her the purple tincture? She recalled that the doctor had asked about her grandson visiting and then recommended the liquid. Why?
"Listen, Crystal," Barb whispered hoarsely into the phone. "I've got to go. We can talk later."
She tapped the phone. Could it be all the craziness last night was just the purple tincture? She shook her head and decided that she was done with Doctor Pam and, most certainly done with the stuff on her sink shelf. She should throw it in the trash.
While these thoughts were racing through her mind, she noticed that she'd missed some texts. She swiped the phone. It was Kurt announcing that he'd won his wrestling matches.
"Off to Semis!" His last text read with confetti exploding around the letters.
She tapped the phone with a fingernail.
"Congrats, champ!" She texted back.
Just as she was about to return the phone to her nightstand, another message pinged.
"Gonna celebrate with the guys. Don't worry about dinner."
Barb breathed a deep sigh of relief. If she laid off the tincture and made it through tomorrow morning, Kurt would be safely back at Southern State U. Her palms had become so sweaty that the phone almost slid out of her hand. She guided it back to the nightstand with both hands.
The rest of the afternoon,she paced the living room, peeking into the kitchen now and then at the vial of purple liquid. She knew she should pour it down the drain, but she kept remembering how it made her feel. Finally, she pulled it off the shelf and hid it in a dish cabinet. She heated up a can of soup and ate dinner in front of the TV. Around nine or ten, she clicked off the costume drama she'd been watching, changed into her nightie, and settled into bed.
- - -
She woke to a heavy body pressed on top of her and a pair of wet lips mashing themselves against her own.
"Kurt!" She mumbled. "Kurt."
"'S okay," he mumbled back. "'S okay, gran."
"Honey, honey...," she protested.
In response, Kurt leveraged his hips to open her thighs and slide between her legs. She felt the long, hard length of his cock pushing against her crotch.
"Honey.... " she practically shouted.
She tried to twist out from under her grandson, but he mistook her writhing for passion and chuckled. He took her wrists in his hands, mashed them together, and pinned her arms in one hand above her head. She struggled to move from beneath him, overwhelmed with confusion. Even as she writhed to slip from beneath Kurt's big, bulky body, the sense of helplessness, of surrender, felt so good. It urged her to wiggle faster and more insistently.
"Kurt," she repeated. "I don't...."
Her grandson's fat cock slipped out of his boxers and bounced against the thin nylon panties she'd worn to bed.
"Oh... " she gasped in surprise. "Oh my goodness...."
Kurt clamped her wrists together more firmly in his hand, and scrabbled at her crotch with his other hand. Somehow, his fingers managed to push her panties to one side. The tip of his cock kissed her bare pussy lips and her throat clenched..
"Honey...." Her voice rasped. "Please... honey."
