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Teasing Out Hypnosis

Chapter One

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Part Two

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

“We should take the Harley out."

Steve grinned, drumming his fingers on the kitchen table. A suggestion like that may have been phrased as such but suggestions with his grandmother had become orders – particularly when one took into account that a bike like that would never have been anything that she would have at all considered, not even once, buying for herself. No, the true Agatha loathed motorbikes and the culture they entailed but his Agatha smiled and went along with anything he said, as long as the words slipped from his lips and no one else's.

Of course, there was only one answer she could give, happier and more amenable to his whim and will and that had been to buy the bike, the monstrosity that she would never have allowed in her grounds before, immediately, along with a biker outfit that was, safe to say, not from a bike enthusiasts store. No, that one had had to be custom made and, well, her credit card had a high enough limit on it with her rating to easily process the rush fee too.

On his order, she went to change and Steve followed, though he was less interested in putting his own clothes on than he was about watching the sexy show of his grandmother changing before his eyes. Her skirt flowed down to her ankles as it dropped, although it had not covered very much at all otherwise, and was replaced with a pair of leather pants suited to the road and protection but with a custom zip in the crotch for, well...that much was obvious!

Her underskirt was a mesh was close enough in the knit to get away with while her leather jacket stayed open, showing off the round of her tits, pulling down without the support of a suitable brassiere. Knee-high leather boots that rendered her entirely a sex goddess extraordinaire completed the ensemble and she stood up straight for him, waiting for her grandson to admire her as Agatha, most uncharacteristically, giggled and posed, turning first one way and then the other.

“Very nice..."

Steve smirked and brushed his fingers back through his hair but he was more interested in the ride at that point, his cock throbbing up, pulsing through with the blood that allowed him to become so hard. Outside, in her small grounds and garden, resided the Harley beside the garage, gleaming in the sunshine. She went to get on it but Steve put his hand out in the nick of time, his plan coming together as nicely as ever he could have liked.

“Wait..." He tapped his nose cheekily. “Safety first! You have to sit on my dick for safety here, grandmother."

He raised his eyebrows as if to say how silly she was for not realising the very basics of motorbike safety and Agatha giggled, slapping her forehead lightly.

“Oh! I didn't realise!"

Yet Steve had everything in plan and in hand as he positioned her in front of him on the bike, confident that the security gates at the front of the property (overkill but, hey, he wasn't going to complain about what she put on her land) would open when required. His own biking pants boasted a similar zip to hers on the crotch and he grunted as he slung his leg over, his grandmother sinking down onto his cock as if she really wanted to take him inside her. Her pussy wrapped itself around him and sucked him deep, her cunt already wet – it was as if she'd been waiting for him to grind back inside her all over again!

“Unnff..." Steve grunted, biting his lip, struggling to come back to himself. “G-great. But your tits too... Uh, they need to be in my hands. For safety, yes... Safety."

He wasn't even sure that he was buying his own words anymore but Agatha happily wiggled her chest for him, letting her breasts sway and jiggle wonderfully, an open invitation for the groping caress of his hands. Her nipples brushed through against his palms and he grunted, fingering the mesh that truly did not cover anything at all, low-cut too so that he could drag her tits out at a moment's notice, however he pleased.

It could not have been more perfect.

With his cock inside her, Agatha seemed to know just how to operate the bike, handling it like an experienced rider as he revelled in controlling her. Of course, he could have just had her buy the bike and then take it out himself but just where would the fun have been in that? No, it was much better to fly along the road with his grandmother in his lap, cock grinding up into her pussy where it belonged, tingling on the edge of orgasm already even from the light shift of her body during the very start of their ride.

It could not have been more exhilarating as they shot through the suburbs, cutting through the idealistic view of reality with a wild whoop and a shout that carried – oh, how it carried. Agatha's hair streamed from under her biking helmet (if he was going to go for the leathers, safety was needed in that regard) and she could have been a much, much younger woman in the moment as her grandson squeezed and groped her tits, massaging them with his hands. He was more than comfortable on the back of a bike, although his own was an older model and most certainly not the coveted Harley, but something about having Agatha control it was lewder still to him, fulfilling a deeper-set fantasy in his heart and soul that Steve had not even known that he'd had. And it was those very desires and fantasies that he was set on bringing forth into the sweet light of day at long last.

She rode his cock as they flew down the road, cutting through a lightly more rural spot, although it could not be denied that they were still close to the city, the throbbing life-force of concrete streets and glaring lights. The day concealed them from view, of course, but they flew by a park set along with black railings, autumn leaves whipping by their wheels. They could not help but turn heads, cutting through a flare of exhibitionism, and Steve laughed out loud, breath whisked away on the wind of their passing.

Orgasm whistled upon him so subtly that it took him a moment to recognise and lean into it, eyes strained with watery joy. Again and again as they took their liberty with the ride, he fucked her, ejaculating all he had to give into her, revelling in his youth and vitality, all that allowed him to do as he pleased. Maybe a male body was indeed more capable of rising to the occasion than he gave it credit for but that most certainly was not something that Steve was at all about to complain about as her teasing pussy gripped and twitched around his cock, though he could not be sure whether she was doing it actively as Agatha coaxed climax after climax from him, one after the other. Moaning into her ear, he leaned into his grandmother, heart pounding. Never before had he experienced such bliss!

His cock ground up into her, seated right where he wanted it to be but he did not dare lick his lips in such a position, heaving for breath, chest tight with passion. He wanted her and he had her and he lusted for her, squeezing and massaging her tits, the flesh of her breasts squashed between his fingers. Her jacket covered most of what he was doing but, truly, someone with a keen eye could not help but notice just what was going on as he roared on by, a police car darting out from a side street with lights on and sirens blaring.

It took him a moment to realise what had happened, anger snarling up, clawing up through his chest. Just who did they think they were to try to stop him from having his fun? It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong! Of course, his perception of wrong and right in that instance was not quite the same as what the law deemed to be so and the car shot up behind them, a flash of Agatha's buttocks on show as she lifted herself up a little higher.

“What do we do, Steve?"

He clenched his jaw, fingers digging into her tits.

“Lose the fucker!"

And so it was done, Agatha gunning down on the throttle and taking off as if the hounds of hell were after her. Though Steve would have personally considered the cop more of a pig in the moment, snarling and growling at his retreating car, the bike zipping away as if it was much lighter and more ethereal than it actually was. He had no real beef with the police but, god damn – did he know how to spoil a good time!

Of course, the car zoomed after them, their head start only temporary as he shouted and drove Agatha on into a high-speed chase, heart pounding, her tits hot and heavy in his hands. Her pulse jumped in her throat and he screamed at her to keep going, orgasm after orgasm crashing over him, though not even Steve could truly have understood as it was happening just how exhilaration could course through his body, affecting that part of him too. One orgasm or a continued milking – none of it mattered, just the whistling throb of pleasure pushing them on over and over again, seething through where it could. And Agatha climaxed right along with him, her pussy pulling at and massaging his cock as if she was striving to pleasure him, her moans lost in the wind and his shouts of delight.

A chase... Who could have thought that something like that could be so erotic, could get them off so many times? Agatha whimpered, pussy tight, sopping wet and still trembling on the edge of yet another climax. The police car dropped back behind them as she worked the throttle, speeding off into the distance, although they had ridden into a more urbanised area. Concrete and parking lots, however, allowed them somewhere to hide and a distraction, at least, from how good his cock in her pussy made her feel.

It was hard to concentrate but, of course, not impossible as she sped around, whipping down a side street and scattering a pushbike – the kind that had to be pedalled along manually. Boring! Her heart leapt and twisted as she swung around, tipping the bike, yet neither of them could feel a lick of fear in their hearts for it all, ducking down into an undercover, underground car park where artificial lights illuminated their way in glaring, unflattering strips.

There, she shot to the back and cut out the engine, breasts heaving in the clasp of his hands. Hot patches flushed her skin and she parted her lips to ask if he thought they'd lost the car, only to lose her words in a groan as he pulled and tweaked her nipples lustfully.

“Ohhh..."

“Quieter..."

And yet being quieter was a more difficult endeavour than anyone in such a situation could care to either admit or understand. His cock teased her forward on the seat as she held the bike as steady as she could, kicking the stand down, however shakily, to support it. It would not be enough to support them fucking on top of it, of course, but it would do them well enough for a little while, just enough for them to get positioned, his shaft pounding, driving, seducing away every last thought that she had in her mind.

That was okay. That was fine. She had her Steve there to love her, to take care of her, to do every last kinky little thing she'd ever wanted to do in her youthful yet sordid life. The bike groaned beneath them as they humped and gyrated, his cock pounding her, driving her open, forcing her to shape her body to the shapely girth of him. Gripping the bars, she howled and arched, forgetting to be quiet, although not even Steve had the presence in himself to clap his hand over her mouth as his orgasm rose and rose. More slowly this time, it seared through the back of his mind, demanding attention, though the only one there who could provide that attention was the woman on the bike before him.

He could have swung his leg over and off but Steve could not stop himself, pounding her, snarling as he slammed into her needy cunt over and over again. It was just as well that the police had neither found them there nor caught them, allowing them to enjoy their pleasure in the best way possible. Yet it was the climax that ripped through her right then and there that made it seem that everything that had preceded it was a fake and false, the pleasure a mere ripple when she was about to unleash the waterfall of lust that she'd had in her heart.

He bore her forward, hands squeezing on her tits, though far more was needed to hold her in place as cum gushed from her pussy as if his cock had been the only thing sealing it up deep inside her. It sloshed out over the seat of the bike, a mess of cream that he was, by no means, going to clean up by himself, more and more staining the leather trousers, everything new and extravagant that he had bought – all with his grandmother's money of course. No longer did he even care about them being heard, lust coming above all else, the carnal desires of immediate sin overcoming anything that could have been long-term otherwise.

Yet there was more to come, so much more, as she whimpered and pushed back, using her leverage on the Harley to grind back onto his shaft, wanting more even as so much cum slopped out of her pussy. There was nothing soft or gentle about what she was doing right then or there as she moaned and grunted, losing sense of even her soft femininity as Steve ripped her helmet from her head, soft, grey hair cascading through the groans. How could so much cum be forced up inside her? Perception wavering and warping, she whimpered and rolled her hips, eyes half-lidded with lust, unable to force them open to how she would usually look.

Steve groaned softly, not needing to be loud and in charge to know that he was at the point of climax once again and, for the time being, his orgasm would come gently. In sifting, stark contrast to the climax of his grandmother, he held her tight, hands dropping to Agatha's hips, drawing her softly back against him. His cock seated itself deep inside her, soaked with his own cum and her sweetly tasting arousal, the scent of their coming-together rising up thick and strong in the air around them. It even overcame the stringent scent of gasoline on the floor, litter and waste, cold air nipping at their nostrils as they tried to focus on one another and one another alone.

Drawing out, however, was the grand finale of it all for Steve as the retreat of his cock brought forth a thick stream of cream, drooling from her pussy as if Agatha had been pounded by multiple men one after the other rather than just one. It was crude in the very best of ways as she moaned and trembled in his grasp, one foot on the floor, although the heels of those boots, at least, were more sensible for riding the bike than anything else that Steve may have otherwise have dressed her up in. That was something to be grateful for and she rolled her head back as his lips caressed the back of her neck, teasing down the line, brushing her hair to the side.

“Oh..." Her lips parted, breathing out his name. “Steve... Oh, Steve..."

And yet there were no more words that she could possibly call to her lips right there and then as she arched against him, her buttocks rising for his attention, even clad in those leather trousers. They were more fitted than anything she had ever worn before, the skirts being more revealing in another manner to Steve, and he grunted deep in the back of his throat, groping and squeezing, even giving her buttocks a sharp spank as more and more seed slurped from her gaping, needy pussy. And yet even those climaxes would not be enough for her as he slipped his fingers inside, helping even more cum to slip from her, need rising up more and more, their time together still growing as they learned things about each other that, perhaps, they had not even known all on their own. Kissing her cheek, he smiled and drew her back against him, letting her sit herself down in what cum and fluids remained on the seat of the bike, smearing it into her leathers and her pussy, though there would be plenty more where that came from.

He'd turned her into the perfect whore.

And, when they went home, he'd plough that pussy full of his semen all over again.

*

Little work was done during the course of Steve's trip with Agatha as he had his attention on other matters. Gone was the sense of not knowing what he wanted or where he was going in life – everything now, for the immediate future, zeroed in on lusting after his grandmother. All he had to consider was how he wanted to play out each and every last one of his fantasies, everything new leaping to mind, so many ideas that there didn't seem to be enough hours in the day to make good on them all.

They lay together on the couch, face to face, just so that he had better access to her tits. They squeezed up to his chest as he groaned and ploughed her pussy slowly and languidly, sliding into her over and over again, his rhythm slow and sensual. There was nothing desperate about how he fucked her that time, enjoying the moment for what it was, and Steve groaned softly, the Television in the background but not really being watched. He, after all, had better things to spend his time on, including the woman in his arms.

“You were a collector of modern art, weren't you?"

It was a question that Steve would not have been interested in before but, with her pussy suckling on his shaft like a pair of lips, it was just what he felt he needed, whimpering and grinding, thoughts running amok with illicit, fresh fantasies. If there was art, he could make artistry and that was something else that had been playing in his dreams and fantasies as he fucked the sexy older woman repeatedly, days passing in a lustful blur of drama.

“Mmm..." Agatha swallowed hard, panting as his lips dropped to her tits. “Oh... Yes, yes, I was. Why... Oh... Why do you ask?"

It was hard enough to talk sometimes when he was around her but there was the added difficulty of having his cock up in her pussy, driving deep and hard, pounding her wantonly. It was all she desired and, as much as she got of it, she could not find it in herself to grow either tired or bored, wanting him more and more as the tension between them grew. She gasped and groaned even as he nipped at her tits, not leaving any spot of flesh untouched, breath shuddering up through her chest.

“It's..." She moaned, struggling with her words. “It's a strange thing to ask now...Steve."

It was strange how her personality surfaced in such a way and yet her words were dramatically softened from how she would speak naturally, though in a good way. The sharpness was simply not required as his hand travelled down her body lazily, teasing through the curl of hair at her crotch where she had grown it out on order, lusting after the changes in her body even as he tried to follow the strength and passion of his newest fantasy.

“That's good," he murmured, hot breath washing over the rapidly cooling patches of saliva on her breasts, a lick of a chill curling around them. “I'll tell in time. Do you have tools to paint too? Canvas and...mm..." He paused briefly, grinding up into her, orgasm rising as if it was going to take his mind right then and there. “Mmm... That's good... And paints too? Brushes?"

The question was wrapped up in a moan but she understood that one, panting lightly as she rolled her head back against the sofa, baring her throat submissively to him. His lips on her breasts swayed her mind, trying to think, trying to simply breathe... Did she even have her old brushes left? What did he want to do with them? Paint himself?

“Um..." Agatha moaned, her hands running down his back, enjoying his body as much as he was enjoying hers. “Yes... Yes, I do. They're in the loft!"

Her last word came out in a rush and a cry as she arched and bucked, grinding on his cock to take him deeper, orgasm shivering through her body. It was gentle and sensuous and he was enough of a gentleman to wait until she had finished, even though he was waiting on his own. He wanted it too but he wanted the passion of it, feeding a new kink as he drew out of her and grinned, an eyebrow cheekily raised.

“So... Get the canvas, the biggest one you have. Bring it down here with your brushes and paint."

Nodding, Agatha smiled and jumped to her task, not caring, of course, that she was completely naked with her entire body on show. Steve had given the gardener some time off so there was no risk of them being caught and seen, which was a blessing after the highly risqué nature of the motorbike ride that had gone a little awry and almost gotten them exposed. It had been kinkily erotic to the extreme, however, and something that he would absolutely be up for again, even if not at that moment.

No... No, he wanted to see Agatha, stretching back on the sofa, though she had to leave the room to get the supplies required, bringing everything back in turn. That, at least, allowed him the chance to enjoy her body, her jiggling buttocks bared with a curl of hair visible even from the rear. And that in itself was perfect for him.

“What brushes do we need?"

Steve shook his head and smiled.

“No... No, I've changed my mind. No brushes."

Her eyebrows shot up.

“No brushes?"

“No..." He said, pausing deliberately for effect. “You are going to be the brush. Just leave the brushes for now."

Blushing, Agatha chuckled and licked her lips.

“Oh, Steve... You are too good to me! Coming up with all these lovely ideas to keep me entertained... You always have ideas!"

She praised him as if he had come up with the best thing in the world, allowing him to direct her to lie down on her back, legs spread, paint smeared down her back, her legs, even her hair. She'd assured him that it would wash off later but, even then with her eyes sparkling, he was quite sure that she would have allowed him to do it anyway, lusting for him as much, if not more, than he lusted for her. Nothing would have stopped them from living out their biggest fantasies right then and there, even if they were, duly, mostly fantasies born from Steve's imagination and it was time to see just what art their naked bodies could paint.

Maybe next time a sheet could act as a canvas but there was something erotic too about seeing paint – acrylics to start with – splashed across his body, a work of art in himself before he penetrated her. His cock was free and ready to plough his grandmother once again but that part of himself Steve had ensured was free of paint, if only for the concern forcing it up into her pussy would cause. A trip to the hospital, of course, was not something that was at all on the agenda for him when kinkier pleasures awaited him!

He moaned, scooting her back across the canvas as she rolled her head back, baring her throat. A necklace would do well on her too another time and Steve hungrily devoured her body with his eyes as he hooked one of her legs up and back, his arm pushing into the back of her knee as he tested the limits of her flexibility. She was a work of art and she needed to see that too, to paint their delectable elegance in the throes of passion, Steve's shaft driving into her. She had to bear back against him a little harder than usual to keep her position, head hanging off the edge of the canvas, although neither of them was willing to take note of the paint on the floor.

No... No, that was not something that he had to worry about. Someone else could clear up the mess at another time, work it out of the carpet and wonder just what that strict yet crazy old lady had been up to. He could guarantee, of course, that their guesses would never be correct.

“Please, Steve," his grandmother breathed, eyes desperately plaintive. “Take me... Oh, you feel so good..."

She didn't have to talk much when their bodies could do the talking for them, whimpering and moaning, his cock throbbing inside her, on the tip of breaking over the edge. He had been close enough to cumming before he'd slipped into her pussy, the curl of hair tickling his lower abdomen as he bore in as deeply as possible, but her climax rising up was more than he could handle. Thus it was that they climaxed together, moans rising where they only had one another to enjoy them, privacy the name of the game that brought them ecstasy over and over again.

One time would not be enough as her buttocks made an imprint on the canvas, marking it in pink and red, the precise shades of which had bypassed his notice. Who cared? His head swirled in sensuality as if he had partaken in alcohol or similar before filling his grandmother, although Steve was perfectly sober. He had to be in order to enjoy her as he truly wanted to.

He didn't want to miss a thing.

But her on her back would not do for what he had in mind and he sat Agatha up on his dick to paint her tits, hands streaking them in purple and orange, not really caring what paint he used. It did not matter for what he had in mind, putting her on her front with her arms supporting her torso just a little. It may have only been a little but it was enough for her tits to hang beneath her, thick and heavy with paint, which dripped from her nipples, splattering droplets over the already streaked canvas. It would be interesting when they were done but he doubted very much that he would bother again with the canvas after the night was ended.

His cock drove up deep inside her, seeking out the deepest penetration that he could possibly acquire, whimpering and grunting, not caring what sounds came from his lips. There was only one way to take what he wanted from the liaison, moaning and groaning, his words blurring into a cacophony of devout ecstasy. Paint smeared and streaked the canvas as he used the thrusts and shifts of her body to paint with her tits, the nipples more delicate brushes even if his execution in the painting lacked some manner of charm and execution.

He was not an artist in that sense but he was an artist that could take control, manhandling and sweetly manipulating her as he laughed harshly, orgasm building once more. It didn't seem to take Steve any time at all anymore to get ready to fuck again after climaxing once, even though he wasn't so sure that he went completely soft between sessions either. It seemed to be something that his body more naturally came into but, really, if that manner of mind control was possible, it stood to reason that such a small manipulation of a man's own body could be brought up into reality too in its coarsest of forms.

Steve groaned, bearing her down, squeezing her tits as he lustfully painted with them, laughing on the edge of climax. He had to keep going, thrusting into her, moaning and panting, driving on to his ultimate high. The canvas splattered with paint and smeared, streaks of lust cutting through the noise, an abstract piece at its finest even though he wasn't paying any attention really to what shapes and designs he created. No, Steve was too caught up in grunting and groaning as he took orgasm for his own, howling and letting his pleasure be known, spurting his load into his grandmother.

She moaned as his seed trickled from her, teasing over the strained lips of her pussy, though her cunt was more than used to taking his cock by that point. It was easy for her and she braced herself as much as she could, snatching in needy breaths, her hips rising and grinding back into his crotch with each and every driving thrust. He shook her body as if she was just a toy to be used as and when he wanted to use her, ramming in as his cum drooled from her pussy, mixing with the paint. If it was mixed in, however, that was yet another thing that would add to the art of their passion, their relationship as twisted as the masterpiece (debatable at best) that their bodies were set on creating.

Lust could rise and fall, however, and the hour of the day had to catch up with them eventually. Agatha moaned as she climaxed again but they'd long ago lost count of just who had had how many orgasms during the course of that evening alone. Turning her onto her side, he ploughed her from behind once more, grasping her tits as he let the shape of her body, light rolls of fat gently acting as a brush, mark the canvas, squirting more and more paint over her body and his until it seemed like there wasn't even a single patch of skin left. Her collection of paint was duly ruined but Agatha could buy more and paint even more beautiful paintings with the passion he had drawn up in her heart, finding fresh inspiration for kinkier and more sordid designs than ever. After Steve had left her home for college, she would wonder, of course, just where her inspiration for such things had come from and hide the paintings away, but she would always wonder just where that particular one with such energetic streaks of paint and an erratic design had come from. She didn't remember painting that!

Yet it would be done by her if not by her own hand, pushed onto her back as he chuckled and fucked her, a handprint in blue cementing their tryst. The paint was running low but, for their final hurrah, he made sure that her buttocks were firmly planted on the canvas, the wood breaking as the canvas itself stretched and bowed, unable to take the weight of too highly energetic human bodies on top of it and duly so.

However, there was only so much paint to go around at the end of the night and the weariness of fucking so keenly had to take a toll on their bodies too, wearing them down as they groaned and thrust, his cock resting on top of her pussy, not inside her at the moment. No, he wanted one final imprint of their lovemaking in the last of the paint, pushing her back for his final thrust and sealing his cock into her pussy with a low howl of lust, another hefty load of man-cream flooding her, although even Steve was softer on the edge of his virility than usual.

Even a man like him, so much in charge and control, had to rest from time to time and he too needed to be aware of his limits. Heaving and panting over his grandmother, her breasts rising with breath, he kissed her passionately, forcing his tongue into her mouth in a forceful fit of dominance, caught up in the moment in the best of ways. Her breasts squeezed to his chest and he luxuriated in the sensation, pinning her back all the way down to the canvas as she whimpered into his mouth, giving herself over to his final climax with the softness of a lover's breath mingling with his.

Exhausted, Steve and Agatha managed to get themselves up the stairs to 'their' bedroom, one step after the other, falling into bed without even bothering to take the time to wash the paint from their bodies. The sheets could be thrown away and, really, it was not a big concern of either of theirs to worry about that, falling asleep wrapped up in each other's arms and, despite getting off so many times, his cock sealed up inside her pussy all over again, just so that they could sleep in the way that they now found the most comfortable.

He wasn't so sure, after all that they'd done together, that he could even sleep without his cock inside her anymore, and it ensured he went to sleep with a smile on his lips.

Every night.

*

The last day before he went back to see his parents was one that he would remember forever, although he had tried to see if there was anything he could do to extend his stay. Alas, the time was coming where he would have to choose his college courses after his working gap year, his year of experiences in so many ways, and he would have to begin visiting campuses at the very least. The good thing there, however, was that he wouldn't have to be trapped in his parental home for too long, as much as they were trying, in their own strange way, to look out for him.

Like so many others, they'd forgotten that he was an adult and an adult didn't need anyone to hover over them. Much less when they held more cards than just their own in the palm of their hand going forward.

Mind control was only the start of it.

For once, however, Steve decided that it was his turn to cook, sending Agatha out to prettify herself and make her body look the best it could be for him, even though he already lusted for her like no one else. Her skin soft and pliable, tender to the touch – ah, that was just what he wanted for her in their final night together while he worked on his own surprise for her in the kitchen. That one would be due her attention and he wanted to be able to sit back and most certainly enjoy the view while she gulped down every last delicious bite of what he was cooking up for her. After all, he wouldn't want to miss a thing and having a good memory of this time with her was more than just a little bit important considering how he had learned in his time with Agatha.

Humming to herself, Agatha curled her hair, teasing it into a more modern style as her fresh curls bounced around her shoulders, teasing in a flirty fashion before the mirror. One after the other fell into place and her eyes shone like those of a much younger woman – a running theme that had come up in her mind time after time again since Steve had come to visit her that time. Why was that? Did the young man, even though he wasn't that young anymore, revitalise her with something like a new lease of life?

It mattered and didn't matter, in the sense that she had to keep Steve there, loving and lusting after her. Her grandson had changed so very much for her that she couldn't imagine not having him there with her anymore, even though she accepted, in her heart, that he would eventually have to go home. She parted her lips for a touch of lipstick in a girlier shade than she would have usually have gone for – but she did it anyway because Steve said it looked good on her. And just why would she not have wanted to do something that made her lovely Steve so very happy?

Everything for Steve, just to make him happy. It didn't make any difference to her whether it was strange or not, just that she could push things further, do more and lust after everything that he had brought to light for her. Licking her lips lightly, she dabbed her lips off with a tissue that didn't smudge them, murmuring to herself as she anticipated all that was left to come that night. For the evening was still young as far as she was concerned and there was more to be had when it came to her grandson.

Her words or his? Those seemed to have gone around her head rather a lot lately... Oh, well. There was no worry to be had in it.

A mini dress that barely contained her tits, laced up at the front to show off a slice of cleavage between her breasts, skin exposed all the way down to her belly button as if in a deep, plunging neckline. But it was far from a look that she would have taken out on the street any day of the week, glistening in crimson that rendered her something of a seductress at the height of sex toy fashion. It gleamed like latex but was not quite such, even though she didn't really care what the fabric was, as long as it made her look good. And she looked better than good!

She looked amazing. And she couldn't wait to see what Steve thought of it!

She practically bounced down the stairs to see him, although that was a harder shot still with her shockingly high heels, the stabbing points of them jabbing down into the stairs with each and every step. They were not quite as high as perhaps Steve would have liked in his wildest fantasies but, truly, those sort of heels for someone her age were more of a horizontal affair, best seen when her legs were slung lustfully back over his shoulders. They glittered with diamonds, a cheeky purchase that made her glitter more than gold itself, and she giggled like a schoolgirl all over again as she flounced into the dining room.

“Hi, Steve!"

She didn't draw out the vowels but she was high-pitched enough for him to look up from where he was setting the table, an eyebrow raised curiously.

“Well, well, well..."

His reaction was instantaneous as he smirked and straightened his back, twirling his finger to request her to turn around. Agatha caught on to his meaning instantly and did so with a girlish squeal, hands fluttering as if she did not quite know what to do with them. But that was alright as his eyes were not on her hands by any means but raking the length of her body, drinking in the delicious beverage that was her hips, wide and chubby, all the way up to her thick waist and sagging tits. He didn't like them to be restrained in a bra unless that was all she was wearing and the dress cupped them perfectly, allowing their natural form to show even though it squeezed them in and down, too tight for her body but perfect for his eyes.

Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it, eyes dancing.

“You're delicious."

And she knew she was, moaning softly as he took her in his arms, though did not kiss her, holding her tight and close just to feel her body pressed up against him. It was a moment indeed that he would savour, the feel of her breasts and her legs kicked out, calves shaped as the dress only came down to the middle of her thighs, if that. He needed, after all, to be able to push it up and reveal her sex, although he didn't want to yet see what underwear she was wearing. Steve grinned and seated her at the table. No... No, that was a treat that he would save for a little later, the last fuck before he went home. Who knew just how long it would be before he was able to come back again? For it was already certain that he was, indeed, coming back again to see her.

Sometime. He didn't know when but sometime indeed was definitely on the cards.

While she waited patiently at the table for him, thinking solely that she was being doted on like a loving grandmother, Steve had something kinkier in mind. She would not know, however, until the deed was done just how far he had pushed things to bring her submission well and truly under his control, working away in the kitchen with one of his grandmother's recipe books. With his control and influence over her, she would, of course, love anything that he cooked up for her but there was a secret ingredient that he'd both been collecting over the last few days and added at the penultimate moment too for the best flavour.

Or so he'd read online... That wasn't something that he'd done before but, truly, he was not going to be the one eating it either, so it was by the by how it came out. It would delight him simply to watch each and every delectable mouthful enter her mouth, smirking cruelly as he retrieved the pie from the oven with the curiously huge over mitts in red and white cloth, everything that a grandmother of her age could have wanted in their styling. The kitchen was small yet neat, clearly not a room that she over-utilised on her own, but it was more than enough for her and easy enough for Agatha to get around for what she needed when it was, indeed, in use. To Steve's knowledge, she preferred dining out in her old age or having meals that required a little less work to hand for when she was cooking alone and not entertaining at home either.

But that was not the point, just another note about his grandmother that he'd managed to change during his time there. She'd cooked for him with relish as she served up delicious meal after meal, proving her skill, and it was time to lock in his control over her, pulling her down into such delightful swathes of submission that Agatha simply would never again want to leave. The pie steamed, topped with puff pastry, and he set the dish on the side, preparing to serve it up.

Vegetables too, though those were not so much of his concern, popping them onto the plate and then cutting a good chunk of the pie out with some difficulty for Agatha. It steamed, fresh from the oven, and he cursed under his breath as he wrangled it onto the plate, although it was not the tidiest slice that he could have grabbed but, really, he was getting sloppier and sloppier as he knew that he would not be judged for it. Well, that wasn't something that should have ever been of such high importance day in and day out and he grinned as he added the final touch to her meal: the gravy. That was the most important thing of all and that most certainly did not matter if it splashed everywhere, not neat and tidy or presentable at all on the plate but delicious all the same.

Things didn't need to be perfect, after all, he thought to himself, collecting the plate, legs already striding to the dining room as if his body could not wait for what was to come. He couldn't get there quickly enough, allowing himself the privilege of being hasty, a smile on his face as he burst back into her presence with a flourish and sweep of his free arm.

“Here you go!"

He placed the freshly cooked dinner on the table with just a serving for Agatha, complete with a hefty dose of thick gravy too. She smacked her lips as if she could not wait to sink her teeth into it, already going for her cutlery (they weren't a particularly religious family, at least in their life so far).

“Oh, Steve, you shouldn't have!"

“But..." She blinked, leaning forward earnestly. “What's wrong, Steve? Did you forget to get your dinner?"

That could have been the point where her old self reared its ugly head once more but his control lay over her like a thick, heavy blanket and she swallowed, shaking her head slightly. That wasn't a notion that she needed to move forward with. It was okay. She didn't need to allow the bark or the snap up into her voice again. Not for Steve. Not with Steve.

He smiled, ignorant to her inner turmoil.

“No... No, this is for you. I have something else for me, don't worry about that."

Satisfied, at least for the moment, Agatha blushed to be treated so well and took a bite of the pie, chewing thoughtfully, really trying to suss out the flavours. Chicken and vegetables with a hint of spice...but there was something stronger still powering through, a thicker undertone that curled aromatically around her tongue and tightened there, demanding that she pay attention to it.

“Hm..."

Taking another bite, she smiled at him and mused over it, striving to work it out. What was it? She'd had that somewhere before, sometime recently, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

“Figure it out yet?"

Agatha shook her head but something urged her on, made her keep eating, trying to find the answer. It was a riddle of sorts – and she loved riddles! Just what riddle was it that Steve had, quite literally, cooked up for her?

His eyes were not peaceful while she ate, taking such pleasure from seeing the food pass into her mouth that it could have been considered a fetish in itself. But that was not quite what he was focusing on, her curves drawing his eye, how even her tits, squashing into him as she twisting, drew his attention, her body as delectable and delightful as it had ever been. Would she eat even more when he was gone this time, making her body curvier and rounder than ever? He shivered, a trickle of cold itching down his spine. Oh, he surely hoped so...

“Oh, it is delightful..." She mused, unable to stop herself from taking another bite and pushing on, curious and hungry in equal measures. “I don't know though, Steve, have I cooked it lately? Is it something new?"

He grinned.

“Well, you've drunk it lately, I guess you could say..."

For the truth of the matter was that it was his seed in the pie, his very own cum that had been stored up for the last few days just for that final, special meal of hers. And she was hungry enough to slurp it all down, even the cum that was laced through the gravy to give it that thicker, more delectable flavour than mere chicken gravy could possibly boast, something that would linger in her mouth long after the very last bite had passed her lips.

He told her, of course, eventually, but that was not the point of it all, lips brushing her ear as he had her serve him dinner sitting on his cock again, reminiscent of the first time that he had had her fuck him like that. It was softer and more sensual as her pussy gripped and teased his cock to one orgasm after the other, the two of them taking their time as he kissed her passionately, the lingering taste of his semen-infused cooking teasing up into the back of her mouth in the very best of ways.

Leaving would not be the end of things for them and he was sure to take care of the boring things too, ensuring that she would clean the house until it was perfectly spick and span, getting everything in order again. Life would continue after he was gone and no one was to know what had come to pass between them, the kinkiness that had transpired in such a way that it could never be forgotten. And yet he had to, unfortunately, dig into the book that he'd hardly touched – oh, how that was yet to be explored! – to find out what would wipe her memory clean of everything they'd done, at least until he knew that the time to bring it back to the forefront of her mind had come again.

For he would return to sleep with his cock crammed up into her pussy in the very best of ways, filling her with his seed, his grandmother the kinkiest fantasy he could come up with. He'd thought about her and dreamed about her for too long to not take advantage of her while he could, fantasy become reality in the very best of ways.

Safe to say, however, it had not been the educationally informative experience that his mother had expected it to be on first sending him to live with his grandmother!

*

Leaving Agatha after all that they had experienced together was more difficult than Steve himself could have anticipated in the slightest. It should not have been so hard (other things, in all honesty, should have been hard, if he was to think like that), as he'd been more than glad to be rid of her after every visit that had preceded him and, yet, not even Steve could deny just how things had changed. He'd wondered on his previous departure whether things could be different between them, however conversely, and not truly believed it, though there was no denying what he'd been able to accomplish, taking the very first steps to shaping his cruel grandmother to his will. Now, the painting that they had created together was at the side of his bedroom, waiting for him to hang it on the wall, bearing in open testament to all that had taken place.

She was no longer cruel though... That was a good thing. A very good thing. He didn't need her sharp tongue but a soft one lapping his cock. He didn't need to feel small when he was big and she told him such. He didn't need to be micromanaged when he could bring them both a far kinkier pleasure by controlling her in a more lustful, directed fashion.

Yes, everything was better when he was in control and Steve did well to acknowledge that he could apply things that she had done to him in a healthier (well...that was debatable) way than she had done to him. He wasn't, after all, trying to either belittle her or try to make her feel bad in the slightest, just show her what she was capable of in her sweetly elderly age, the pleasures that, of course, could still be hers. That he got so much kinky enjoyment about turning the tables, quite rightly, on her was beside the point. Though even those truths that he told himself could be mere opinions if so twisted...

It was no matter. Sitting at his computer desk (ah, he'd spent many an hour there with just his hand for company!), he made a face and stared at the screen, several tabs open to college courses. He had not quite decided which one to accept, though his place already had been guaranteed due to his grades to one of his choosing. Maybe some were forced into a career path by parents and family or expected to follow along in the footsteps of siblings but that was not for him and, as a single child, his parents had not had anyone before him to make that kind of mistake on. In the end, they'd left him mostly to his own devices when it came to that sort of thing, even if his mother had a weird hang-up on perfect grades, even when he found a topic a little more on the difficult side. Maybe that was why he was such a recluse otherwise, hardly dating anyone even after he took a gap year of sorts to take on some supplementary courses, just to keep himself busy.

Now, however, it was time for the biggest decision of his young life to date as an adult: college. And there were so many to choose from, all with so very many courses, that it was understandable that it was difficult to decide, one campus blurring into the next as he clicked through in growing frustration.

How was he meant to know which one was the best when so many other things swirled to the forefront of his mind, demanding precedence? Of course, it was the thought of his grandmother on her knees, the little cushion to protect them from the floor, her mouth open for the treat of his shaft. She licked it, running her tongue around the tip in his mind's eye as if she was deliberately trying to put on the best show in the world for him, his cock twitching in reality, unable to help responding. Why would it now – he was just a man, after all, and a man like him had needs, so many needs. The college campuses and courses blurred on the screen before him, breath catching, lust threatening to take over.

It was just as well that he was due a distraction.

“Hey, Steve?"

His mother smiled, poking her head around his bedroom door, all sweetness and light now that she thought that he'd been duly straightened out and forced into line, driven to bend but not break, under the hand of her own mother. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail that showed off the lines of her cheekbones, so much like Agatha's, but he had to concentrate to not allow his eyes to drop to her breasts, rounding out through the surely soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

He sweated.

Damn it...

_ _

Some things, however, were best left in the realm of his imagination, if only for the time being.

“Yeah, mom?"

He tried to be casual but there was no man in the world that could be interrupted with a chub in their pants and appear completely at ease. Steve was no different and she surveyed him with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay. Well, I just wanted to tell you something."

She smiled, brushing her hair back even though it was already tied back, a reflexive action that she'd never been quite able to tease away.

“Your grandmother..." She said, pausing at just the wrong moment to drag up his anticipation of what was to come. “Well, since you've always done so well with your work and schooling when you've been over with her, she always helps you out so much, I thought you could go to the college near her. Look! It's just a train ride in, you could live in that city with her and then you wouldn't even need to get a dorm room!"

For a parent like his mother, it was the perfect situation to fall into her lap even if not for the hypothetical son that she thought was sitting before her. But Steve didn't hear anything of what she said and, conversely, even the courses that she rattled on about did not even matter anymore as she'd already made his decision for him in a way that he would very, very much agree with.

Screw living in a dorm room. He'd rather live with someone he could screw and Agatha fit that bill more than nicely, regardless of what his mother, of course, did not know. All she knew was that he was happy to go along with what she wanted, her false illusion of control firmly centred and placed in such a way that even she was taken in by her own fallacy.

Steve grinned.

After all, it would not be as if he didn't have his freedom...would it?