The air was thick with heat, the kind that made clothes feel like a prison. The old ceiling fan in Grandma Elise’s house creaked as it spun, barely stirring the heavy, sweat-slicked air.

Elise (54) was a goddess untouched by time—her body still tight, lush, and begging to be touched. Her tank top clung to her like a second skin, her nipples hard and visible through the thin fabric. The shorts she wore were practically just a suggestion, riding up with every movement to reveal the plump, round curves of her ass.

You tried to focus on your phone, but your eyes kept drifting back to her—the way her hips swayed when she walked, the way her tits bounced when she laughed, the way she’d bend over just a little too far, letting the fabric of her shorts dig into the soft flesh of her pussy.

Then came the day you snapped.

She was lying on the couch, legs spread, wearing nothing but a pair of lace panties and a smirk. Your cock throbbed painfully as she stretched, arching her back so her tits pushed forward, her nipples stiff under the thin fabric.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

Your hands were on her before you could think, fingers digging into her hips as you pulled her against you. She let out a low, throaty laugh, her nails scraping down your chest.

"About damn time," she purred, grinding against your hard cock.

What happened next was a blur of sweat, skin, and desperate moans—her legs wrapped around your waist, her nails raking down your back as you fucked her raw right there on the couch. She was loud, shameless, fucking perfect, her body taking every inch of you like it was made for it.

And when you came, she clenched around you, milking every last drop with a satisfied sigh.

Weeks later, Elise dropped the news like it was nothing.

"Guess what, baby? You knocked me up."

Your stomach dropped.

She just laughed at your horrified expression, running a hand over her still-flat stomach. "Relax, kid. My body didn’t get the memo that I’m supposed to be dried up."

Your mind raced—how the fuck were you gonna tell your mom, Lena?

You expected screaming. Cursing. Maybe a slap.

Instead, your mom just pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

"Goddammit, Mom… really?" She shot Elise a look, but there was no real anger in it—just exasperation. Then she turned to you, shaking her head. "That’s why I didn’t want to send you alone to her. Jesus Christ."

You braced for the explosion.

It never came.

"Well, take care of her," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I’ll come visit occasionally. Try not to knock her up again before I get here."

And just like that… it was over. No drama. No disowning. Just your mom being weirdly chill about the fact that you’d impregnated your own grandma.

Now, Elise’s body was even hotter—her tits fuller, her hips wider, her belly swollen with your kid. And she loved it. Some nights, she’d ride you slow, her pregnant belly bouncing as she moaned, "Fuck, just like that… God, you fill me up so good."

Other times, she’d make you kiss her stomach, laughing when the baby kicked against your lips. "Guess they already know their daddy’s tongue," she’d tease, grinding against your face.

She was insatiable, possessive, and completely unashamed—and you?

You were addicted.

Elise’s back was against the wall, one leg hooked over your shoulder as you pounded into her, her swollen tits bouncing with every thrust. "That’s it—fuck me just like that," she moaned, her nails digging into your shoulders. "Gonna make me cum on your cock, baby… just like you did when you put this kid in me."

You came hard, filling her up as she clenched around you, her laughter low and satisfied.

"Good boy," she purred, patting her stomach. "Now let’s get you cleaned up… before I change my mind and go for round three."