Why would I waste my best assets on some pathetic stranger in a smoky club for a few crumpled twenties? No, I kept the show in the house. I looked at my grandson, his eyes wide and shaking, staring at my hips. “Stop trembling, you little shit,” I spat, grabbing his hair and pulling his face close to my chest. “You’re a man of this house, and it’s time you learned what a real woman looks like under her dress.”
I didn’t glide; I commanded. I reached for the zipper of my floral house-dress, the sound of it sliding down loud in the silent room. I stepped out of the fabric, standing before him in nothing but a sheer, lace bra that barely contained my heavy, sagging tits. I saw him swallow hard. “Look at them,” I commanded, slapping my breast so it bounced violently. “These are the tits that fed your father, and now they’re here to ruin your mind.”
I reached back and slid my panties down my thick thighs, tossing them onto his face. The smell of my musk hit him instantly. I stepped closer, my wide, hairy pussy glistening in the light. I grabbed his hand and forced his fingers into my wet folds. “Feel that, you pathetic brat? That’s the family legacy. Now get on your knees and start licking, or I’ll give you something to really cry about.” He didn’t hesitate. He buried his face in my crotch, tongue frantically scrubbing my clit while I laughed and pushed his head deeper into my juices

















