However, at this moment the wide twisted smile on his grizzled old face, revealing the gaps of two missing teeth, and shining merry eyes maybe didn’t make him look younger or less ugly, but made him jolly and human.
At that moment her fear and revulsion of him left her like water down a drain and she returned his smile with a radiant one of her own, making him catch his breath at her incredible beauty, no matter that she was sleep deprived, disheveled, soaked in breast milk and probably hadn’t taken a shower in several days.
“I don’t mind, but this one’s a handful,” he finally said, tickling the toddler’s feet and sending her into another round of squirming giggles.
———————————–
It became their routine. Every day, from ten to noon the old man met her at her front door and either held the infant while Yvette romped with her toddler or vice versa.
Every day they got closer and closer. Yvette talked about her brief life while Grampa regaled her with story after story of his wife and their children, of his brief time as a soldier and of his life in the farm.
After a few hours outside she’d invite him in and he’d spend the day helping her with the kids and the house. Every day, he stayed a little longer and every day, they learned more and more about each other.
Yvette didn’t know at what point she stopped covering herself when nursing her baby. Probably on the day she’d fallen asleep.
She’d leaned her head back against her rocking chair and closed her eyes after switching her baby to her other boob, listening to Grampa’s deep gravelly voice as he recounted a funny story. She didn’t realize she’d unclipped the nursing cup from her bra, pulled away her shirt, and pressed her baby against her swollen aching boob. Unaware that she’d left her other heavy breast bare to the old man’s sharp-eyed gaze.
A fleeting thought of needing to pump crossed her tired mind before she drifted off to sleep.
Grampa stopped talking and watched as she nodded off. The baby’s lips unlatched from the large thick nipple and her head tilted back as she fell asleep as well. He turned his head and noticed the toddler had rolled herself into a tight little ball on the couch and was also fast asleep, worn out by her outdoor escapades.
I think I bored the poor little darlins’ to sleep, he thought to himself.
He stooped, carefully pulled the sleeping infant from her mother, lifted her to his bulbous nose and sniffed her butt. Looks like we need a quick diaper change, he thought. He changed her diaper and carried her to her bassinet. He did the same for the toddler, and then carried her to her bed.
Once the kids were tucked in, he stood over his great-great-granddaughter, staring down at her enormous milk-swollen breasts. They were flushed red, round and had a tracery of dark bulging veins on their surface. The dark pink nipples were almost as thick as his thumb, the areolas were slightly larger than a silver dollar, lighter than her thick nipples and faded to blend with her skin. There was a steady stream of pale milk oozing from each nipple, soaking into her clothes.
After a while, his eyes slid up to examine her face. It was odd and contradictory to see such a beautiful, innocently angelic face on such a voluptuously feminine body.
Her large liquid blue eyes were closed but he could picture them clearly in his mind’s eye. They were wide and innocent as a doe’s. Her face was slim and determined, her lips were wide and full, her nose was long and straight and almost pinched at the tip, her cheeks were high and her neck was long and slender.
She was absolutely beautiful. He hated to admit it, but she was lovelier than his late wife at her age.
Normally after nursing the baby, Yvette disappeared for about half an hour and pumped her milk into measured plastic baggies then put them in the freezer. He snuck a look inside once and was amazed at how much frozen breast milk was in there. The girl made a lot of milk… A LOT.
He stared down at the sleeping girl. Her long straight light brown hair was tousled and tangled and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she was as beautiful as a new dawn and she looked so much like his Alice that his heart lurched in his chest in agony at the remembered pain of her loss.
Alice had been well-endowed but nothing like this girl. She was in a league of her own, he thought, letting his eyes wander down to the large bare breasts again.
He was harder than he’d been in decades and his mouth watered as he wondered what her milk tasted like, how those enormous breasts would feel like in his hands.
He pictured himself suckling on a fat nipple as it dribbled a steady stream of milk before his astonished eyes. He caught himself as he leaned down to follow the impulse.
“What the fuck am I doing,” he asked himself.
His wrinkled old face was so close to her breast that he could feel the heat coming from it.
Wait a second, the thought, concerned. Why is she so hot? It almost feels as if she had a fever.
He straightened and put the back of his hand against her forehead. The girl was burning up.
What the fuck?!
He went to the kitchen, dug around for a towel, soaked it with cold water from the fridge and went back to her.
Yvette woke from a feverish dream with a strangled cry at the feel of the icy cold rag on the back of her neck.
She straightened with a groan and looked around for her kids but saw Grampa standing over her looking concerned and holding an ice cold rag to the back of her neck.
“What the…?” she started to say.
The old man interrupted.
“Don’t worry, I put them to bed, but you’re not doing so good.”
She fell back on the chair, sending it gliding back and forth before stopping it when she felt the motion begin to make her queasy.
“I need to pump,” she said weakly. “It happens when I get too full.”
“My tits make way too much milk for some reason.”
She stood on unsteady legs and immediately sat back down.
“Stay there,” Grampa told her. “Tell me where it is and I’ll get it for you.”
Before long he held the device in his gnarled hands, unfolded a conveniently close snack table and placed it before her after plugging it in.
She didn’t bother covering herself.
He sat down on the couch next to her, trying not to draw attention to his bulging pants. His gleaming eyes followed the girl’s every motion and his gnarled hands unconsciously loosened and clenched, loosened and clenched.
She pressed the four-inch-wide silicone breast shield, the cone-shaped part that made a seal, to her breast and pressed a button on the machine. Within minutes, the sound of the machine’s pulsing hissing hum filled the room and the old man watched in fascination and lust as she filled bag after bag with cream-colored milk.
When she finished, he noticed the rubbery part of the breast pump that sealed against her breast like a child’s latching mouth, had left a raised red imprint on her pale skin when she pulled it off. He hated seeing it. It made him angry to see the lifeless rubber mar her perfect skin.
He watched and lusted, tracing his eyes across every perfect luscious inch of those two enormous rosy-tipped, tear-shaped breasts. They were round, full and glistening wet with milk.
The old man’s eyes also admired the young mother. She was flushed bright red. Was she still feverish? Did she have some sort of infection? Maybe her breasts were clogged. No. That couldn’t be it, he clearly saw her milk flowing freely without signs of obstruction.
Yvette knew she should’ve covered herself or left to pump in another room as she usually did, but she did neither. She straightened and pushed her shoulders back, making her enormous breasts look even bigger.
She’d glanced down and saw the effect she’d had on her great-great-grandfather and felt the arousal she normally felt but it was magnified a thousand fold when she saw the massive bulge in his pants.
Butterflies battered at the walls of her stomach as she dared to bare herself to a man other than her husband. She felt the heat of her breasts flow to her core and then down to her loins. She felt feverishly hot.
The way the old man stared at her was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Tyler didn’t like touching her breasts or having sex at all while she lactated. They’d tried it several times, but her desire had fizzled away when she saw the look of disgust in his eyes when milk dribbled from her nipples. She knew his desire faded as well when she felt his member soften before he rolled away in frustration.
He’d tried to hide the look or revulsion, but she’d seen it. It was there. She’d felt his lack of desire. Now he barely touched her… and she was so horny all the time. With the kids being so needy, she had no time to satisfy her own aching need.
The machine continued its pulsing sucking hum, stimulating her nipple and she looked deep into her great-great-grandfather’s eyes. She saw no revulsion, no distaste, only admiration and a lust so intense and visceral as he stared at her bared breasts that the butterflies in her stomach turned into battering Mack trucks and the world seemed to shift and pulse around her as her blood pressure spiked.
It felt like being in a roller coaster and plunging down from its highest peak.
She desperate wanted to reach under her loose-fitting shorts and masturbate herself to screaming orgasm. Actually, she was desperate to get on her back and feel Tyler’s weight on top of her, to feel his hard member inside her fucking her to orgasm.
Then she remembered that look… that look of distaste and revulsion on his young handsome face when he looked at her.
Her eyes drifted down from the old man’s intently staring eyes to the bulge in his pants again. She didn’t want to admit it, but it was an impressive bulge.
Yvette had only ever been with one man, but she’d always been curious about other men, though never curious about Grampa, at least not before today.
She stared down at her great-great-grandfather’s throbbing bulge and wondered what it looked like. She wondered if it was as wrinkled as the skin of his face. She wondered if it was as knobby and twisted as his age-spotted hands. She wondered how hard it was, how it would feel inside her.
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