Grandfather's Cock Was Too Large For His Jock... free porn video

Grandfather's cock was too large for his jock ... so it hung ninety years on the floor.

I remember well the day that I first walked in on Gramps as he sat naked in his room, choking his chicken as he stared at a grainy porn DVD. Actually, let me change that; I think that 'flogging his log' would be a more apt description of what he was doing with that gigantic thing that he was stroking with his tight right hand. We'll get to that soon enough.

The original words of the tune were not so crude. Written by one Henry Clay Work in 1876, the lyrics began as follows: "My grandfather's clock was too large for the shelf, so it stood ninety years on the floor."

The bastardization of the words was very likely begun by young teen-age boys that same year, probably within days of its publication. By coincidence, the jock strap was invented at about the same time. Until then, the word jock had been a crude synonym for the word cock. Ultimately even young teen-age girls stopped cringing at the use of, much less the rhyming of the words cock and jock.

When I first heard the revised wording, at about age eleven or twelve, I didn't blush, I just giggled. Soon thereafter, I realized that the parody could have been sung about my own beloved grandfather and that awesome tube of delightful and delicious man meat hanging down between his hairy naked legs.

I'm Kimberly, but back then I was just "pretty little Kimmy." At twelve, my tits were already noticeable, though not yet the beauties — forgive my bragging — that I have now. My hips were rounding out nicely toward their baby-delivering function, though so far neither Gramps' sperm — nor the milky love sauce of any of the boys who I've allowed to fuck me - has ever caught one of my eggs. Sooner or later, it'll happen, I'm afraid, and then when I waddle into school, even those who don't know now will know. But my face will still be my fortune.

Gramps and Granny had only one child, my Mom. She and Dad had only one child, me. If you're good at math, you can figure out that I'm Gramps' favorite grandchild. As for Granny, I wouldn't know. I barely remember her; I do know that she's living somewhere in the Midwest. Gramps told me once that he was 'quite a hellion' in his younger day, suggesting that she took off because of his roving eye (possibly meaning roving cock), but I can't be sure.

What I can be sure of is that he does have a roving eye. I remember seeing but not understanding why he would stare at my nipples poking against my blouse back when I still wore undershirts. I remember seeing and yes, understanding, when I saw his eyes fixed on the tight asses of my friends when their backs were toward him.

No one ever told me why Gramps lives with us, unless maybe to be a permanent baby-sitter. I know that it's not about money. He seems to be a free spender, and my parents make a good living. They're both lawyers, working together, and heavily into local politics, Dad being a County Legislator. That means that they're always out, at fund-raisers, political party functions and all that other shit. So when I'm not in school, I'm home alone with Gramps. And you know from the movie what kind of mischief a kid can get into when she's home alone, especially with Gramps.

He wasn't really much of a baby-sitter. Once I was old enough to go out of the house alone, he didn't pay any attention to when I came back. And as long as I didn't burn down the house, or keep him awake all night with loud music, he was cool with whatever I did.

Ever since I was a toddler, Gramps was my favorite toy. I used to love to climb on his lap and bounce around there. Now get your mind out of the gutter; all he ever did was to hold me by my waist or my shoulders. Mom had taught me about 'inappropriate touching' and Gramps never did any of that stuff. Even when I got a bit older, we still did the same stuff. I was beginning to get feminine and frilly but I still had no tits. On the other hand, Mom still had not given me THE TALK but I already knew what that hard thing was between Gramps' legs as I squirmed on his lap.

A word about that TALK! Mom really had no interest in telling me about the birds and the bees, nor did she feel like taking time away from her precious "billable hours" to do so. I had to learn about sex from my friends, who learned it from their brothers' or fathers' dirty magazines or DVDs. And Mom never taught me how — or why -- to use a tampon until the morning that I woke up in a bloody bed. It was a good thing that my friends had told me what to expect or I would have had a heart attack. Plus, poor Mom had a shit fit that morning, complaining about being late for a client meeting when all I had done was to start to grow up into a woman.

So by then I knew all about the hard-on that I was giving to poor Gramps and the fact that after I went up to bed, he would have to 'spank his monkey.' That last expression I also learned from my friends, but I had no idea what it meant. Later of course I became an expert in dirty language, but back then, the magazines and DVDs, while they had lots of fucking and sucking, and even pussy eating, never showed any guys jerking off.

My knowledge of that came slowly. The first time I ever played with myself was at my friend Cissy's house, while we were watching one of her brother's videos. When I glanced at her, she had her hand up one leg of her shorts and that hand was moving rapidly.

"What are you doing, Cissy?"

She looked at me like I was from some other planet. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she sighed like some long-suffering teacher.

"I'm masturbating, Kimmy."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Jeez, Kimmy, don't you get excited looking at these people fucking?" She continued without waiting for my reply. "I'm playing with my clit. I'm trying to make myself cum."

Then it was my turn to look at her as if she was an alien from outer space. "What's a clit?"

The expression on her face ranged somewhere between laughter and tears of frustration. She put the DVD player on Pause. The picture that froze on the screen was that of the woman with her mouth open, her tongue coated with creamy sperm.

"Take off your shorts and panties, Kimmy," she commanded me.

"WHAT?"

"You heard me, dammit, just do it. I'm not some fucking lesbian. I'm not going to rape you, I'm just trying to show you," she defended herself.

I stood slowly. Getting undressed in front of another girl was something that I never did. Oh sure, (training) bra and panties as we tried on clothing, but never pussy naked. My shorts came off, and when I hesitated, Cissy made an impatient hand gesture for me to continue. I thought briefly about turning around as I pulled down my panties, and then decided that she would just make fun of me if I did so. I stepped out of them and pirouetted, just as if I were showing off a new outfit. Looking back, I guess that I was doing just that, showing 'the real me.'

My pussy was protected by the lightest of blonde fuzz. Cissy looked at me critically and then directed me onto her bed, my legs in a Lotus position. She knelt between them, staring, actually making me feel nervous. Then she spread my labia with the fingers of one hand and used the thumb of her other hand to flick the little nubbin at the top of my slit.

"That's it; that's your clit. Didn't your mother teach you anything?" Without waiting for an answer — she rarely did — she took my hand and used it to rub my clit gently. After a few strokes, she released it, with instructions to keep going by myself. At the same time, she used the remote to restart the porn DVD. Alternating her eyes between my moving hand and the TV screen, she removed her own shorts and panties and then sat on the bed next to me.

Our hands rubbed in unison. I could smell the scent of sex rising from between my legs, from the moisture flowing into my pussy. I could smell Cissy's scent also, different but somehow the same, mixing and permeating the room as we watched two strangers fucking on a forty-two inch screen. The cock in the picture was larger than any I had ever seen in a magazine. Were they all that big, I wondered?

My hand began to speed up, the pleasure of my rubbing combining with the forbidden pleasure of watching the couple on the screen. I knew that I was coming closer to something, but I wasn't sure to what. And then ... And then...

Time stopped as Cissy lifted my hand from between my legs and placed it on her own pussy. I looked at her in shock. She gave me a faint smile, somewhere between embarrassment at what she had done and encouragement that all would be OK. She put her left hand on my clit and began to rub gently. Meanwhile, her right hand went on top of mine, between her legs, to kick-start my caresses of her soaking wet womanly core.

We masturbated each other, staring at the screen, at the well-hung actor shoving his cock into the bored actress. Perspiration poured off my brow. Suddenly Cissy gasped, arched her body rigidly and began to sob quietly. Her hand stopped moving on me. After a few moments, she relaxed, removed her hand from me and brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply.

Without warning, she rolled over and before I knew it, her face was in my crotch, her tongue frantically licking my slit, pushing inside my pussy, her lips wrapped around my clit, sucking wildly, like the actresses on the screen sucking cocks. I was being eaten by another girl, a concept I had never thought of, and I was loving every moment of it.

"I'm going to pee, Cissy."

"No you won't, Kimmy. Trust me."

My first ever orgasm announced itself with a scream as my hands held Cissy's face tightly against my pussy, not even letting her up to breathe. So this is what it feels like, I thought; so this is what it's all about. My hands relaxed her head and she looked up at me, her face glistening from my bodily juices. This time her smile was one of satisfaction. Without even thinking about it, I pulled her up to my face and we kissed, eyes closed, mouths open, tongues entwined.

We broke the kiss and I looked again at the screen. The man was now straddling the woman's face, both of her hands rapidly stroking his hard cock until he groaned and spurted his cum onto her face, her eyes, into her hair. I kissed Cissy again.

I grew quickly, in a sexual sort of way. I began to masturbate several times daily: when I woke in the morning, in the Girls Room after every class, sometimes during a class, after school, after dinner, in bed. I watched porn with Cissy as often as possible and learned to munch her carpeting. Hers was closer to shag rug than my light fuzz but I was easily able to get past it to her sweet tasting clit.

Fortunately, I also began to realize that boys were not all dorks. I actually started to date Cissy's brother Neil — among others. He was a little more than a year older than his sister; they called themselves Irish Twins, which pissed me off but also made me giggle. Having no idea how much his sister had told him about our shenanigans, I started out by keeping Neil at arm's length, so to speak. We did some movie dates that included kissing, but no more than that. Not to start with, anyway. I knew that the boys all wanted to play with my tits and get off somehow, but I had no intention of being known as the school slut, or even just as one of the easy lays. So if poor Neil wanted to get off, it would have to be DIY — 'do it yourself', for those of you who are too young to be reading this stuff anyway.

Of course, Neil wasn't the only one who wanted an orgasm. Yes, I could always go home and rub myself to a cum, pinching my nips and tweaking my clit until that wonderful feeling of relief washed over my entire body. But it was even more fun when someone would do it for me, Cissy's tongue and fingers being infinitely more desirable than my own ministrations. Still, I knew, as did she, that neither of us was meant to grow up lesbian, and that our ever-improving fumbling was just experimentation, just practice for future adventures of a heterosexual nature — that means with boys.

So sooner or later I knew that I would let Neil cop his cheap feels though, to tell the truth, I was looking forward to it myself. And thus it happened one afternoon in the movies. As we kissed, alone in the corner of a virtually empty theater, watching a totally forgettable monster wreaking havoc on some fictional small town peopled only by handsome men and big-busted women, I felt Neil's hand slide off the back of my neck and on to my chin. I knew that was just a stopping point on a planned journey toward my tits, a small sortie to see how I would react. And I chose not to react, except to breathe a little more heavily.

Deciding that he could go a little farther, Neil moved his hand down flat along my neck, as though he meant to choke me, not that I was afraid he might. His lips never left mine. His hand stopped again when it touched the top of my blouse. There it hesitated, knowing that his next move might trigger not a slap but even worse, a gentle removal by my hand of his and my head turning away to watch the noisy violence on the screen. For my part though, my nipples were already hardening, waiting for his fingers, unconsciously preparing to compare his touch with that of his sister. I didn't tell him that; a girl has to play hard to get, after all.

Besides that, I was wondering if his hand would go straight to my growing globes, my preference, or would his fingers begin to work my top button. I wasn't ready for 'under the blouse' and I hoped that he would proceed so that I didn't have to stop him, didn't have to take the edge off of the moment. And then it was there, fixed on my left breast. Suddenly I began to realize that he would leave wrinkles that I might have to explain, my mind relaxing only when I figured that Gramps would never notice a thing. Or so I hoped.

I leaned forward toward Neil, the universal female signal that, for the moment at least, his hand was welcome. And then, maybe I was a slut after all, I placed my hand on top of his and squeezed, silently letting him know that he didn't have to stop. Cissy's fingers popped into my mind as I felt the dampness between my legs, wondering again if there would be a wet spot on my jeans for Gramps to see when I got home.

Our lips remained locked, the only justification for playing with the tits of a young girl with whom a boy has not yet progressed to whatever base they call it when he finally gets to feel bare nipple. I enjoyed it as Neil switched his hand from tit to tit, but I wasn't going to let it last forever, and I had no intention of letting him inside my blouse. Not that afternoon, anyway. And so I finally broke the kiss and sat back to watch the trash on the screen. We leaned shoulder to shoulder, and Neil's arm went around me, his hand again on my left breast, alternatingly resting and squeezing. Oh how I wanted to feel his lips on my nipples, suckling at them as his sister did so lovingly, and yet I was grown up enough to want to be a cock tease.

He walked me home after the movie, then left me on my porch with a chaste peck on the lips as he went to his own home, doubtless to jerk off. Or so I thought, never putting Neil and Cissy together, so to speak. Little did I know!

Gramps was sitting in the family room sipping a cup of coffee and reading a book. He looked up at me with his usual welcoming smile, then glanced — the poor man couldn't help it — at my budding breasts. He frowned at wrinkles that shouldn't have been there. Then his eyes dropped to my jeans with the unmistakable damp spot. His frown deepened before he looked at my face again. He put his book down in his lap, and I had to bite my lip to avoid smiling at the thought of Gramps hiding his erection. He spoke slowly, deliberately.

"You're growing up very quickly, Kimmy. Maybe too quickly."

I blushed and went upstairs without saying a word. We spoke later that evening of many things, but neither of us mentioned the thing that was in the forefront of our minds.

The next day was Saturday. My parents were away for the weekend, as they were almost every weekend. As fate would have it, they were accompanied by Cissy's and Neil's parents, leaving Neil behind as his sister's babysitter. For all the good that was!

After lunch, I walked over to their home and knocked on the door. I heard Cissy yelling from upstairs that the door was open and that I should come in. They were up in Neil's bedroom. Neil was sitting in front of his computer and Cissy was standing behind him, her hands on his shoulders. As Neil clicked the keyboard, hard-core porn photos came onto the screen, while Cissy's hands rubbed her brother's chest from behind. The photos were taken at mattress level, from the foot of the bed, between the outspread legs of a couple coupled in the missionary position. The camera was at a slight angle so that his balls did not block the view of cock in cunt.

Holy shit, I thought, are these two fucking each other?

"Excuse me, but am I interrupting something? Would you two like me to leave?"

Cissy turned halfway toward me, smiling. Her blouse was wide open and her bra was pulled up over her tits. Neil turned and fastened his lips on her waiting nipple. Cissy's hand caressed the back of his head while he sucked as she spoke.

"Neil told me about yesterday in the movie. I thought that maybe you'd like to continue what you were doing. I wouldn't mind going to the mall by myself for a few hours."

"But you two..." I fumbled, staring at his mouth sucking away.

"Don't worry, Kimmy. I don't mind sharing ... and neither does Neil. He and I will finish this up tonight; you can bet on that."

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. The thought that my friend and her brother were openly fucking was tough to absorb. And was I ready to join her in womanhood, jumping directly from yesterday's necking and feeling to today's raw sex flashing on the computer screen? Was yesterday's cock tease ready to become today's cock sucker? Or worse? Or should I have said better instead of worse?

That last question by itself decided me. Just thinking that fucking might be better than cock sucking — something that I had never done, of course — sent my juices gushing into my panties. Mom wasn't around for me to talk to about giving up my virginity; shit, if I asked her, she'd have a heart attack. I walked over to Cissy and pulled her mouth toward mine. Our tongues dueled for a moment before I broke the kiss.

"Don't hurry back," I whispered, loud enough for Neil to hear me.

As she fixed her bra and blouse and got ready to leave us alone, I stole a glance at Neil. He was trying, very unsuccessfully, to keep a shit-eating grin off his face. It made me laugh, and the sound broke the tension but still my body felt as if it were shaking. I sat on Neil's bed but neither of us spoke or moved until we heard the click of the front door as Cissy left for the mall. Then he sat next to me, still silent, and put his arm around me. Our lips met, our tongues tangled together and his gentle hands fondled my tits as we fell together on our sides, facing each other.

I thought again of the mess that today's blouse would become, wrinkles announcing to Gramps how I had spent the day. And then I didn't care. It was my day to do what I had so long wondered about, to get past the childish fumbling with my girlfriend and to feel a hard male body — hard between the legs, anyway. And hard inside me. I was ready for it, I was anxious for it. I, Woman, was ready to share my mouth, my fingers, my cunt.

There was no love between Neil and me. He was just a date, a friend, my girlfriend's good looking brother, but by no means was he Mr. Right. I had not been saving myself, saving my body, my chastity for him. He was just the vehicle who would deliver cock to me for the first time, so that I could get the stupid concept of virginity out of my life. Blood would not be a problem; my cherry was long gone, victim to the combined fingers of Cissy and me. All that remained was for a hard male member to spread my vaginal walls and to coat them with the sweet cream of lust. And my mouth too, but that was a foregone conclusion, the appetizer to get him off quickly so that my first fuck wouldn't be a wham-bam, thank you ma'am.

A button tore off my blouse as I twisted alongside Neil. Gramps would now surely notice it; would I explain to him exactly how it happened? I wouldn't be surprised if I did. How would he react? Would he have to tell Mom, or force me to tell her? Oh, fuck it, Gramps, get out of my brain, I have more important stuff to do right now.

I stood up, put the torn button in the pocket of my blouse and threw blouse and bra into the corner of the room. Neil sat up and pulled his tee shirt over his head. I pushed him down and began to suck on his nipples. I wondered where I had learned that trick, trying to recall some porn DVD as the source. His hands roamed all over my tits, with a not uncomfortable roughness. Then he pushed me over and began to reciprocate the nursing on me as my nipples hardened.

It was my turn to push back, and when he was laying face up, I went to work on his belt and then his zipper. Soon I had his jeans off over his bare feet. The tent in his underwear signaled my target. Though he loved every second of it, relished my fingers, I attacked him as a rapist would attack a defenseless woman, tearing off his shorts, leaving it to him to explain the tatters to his mother. On the other hand, since he was fucking his sister, either his mother already knew about their sexual activity or they were damn good at hiding things. Not my worry, I realized.

The destruction of his shorts exposed my first ever live cock. For a brief moment, I felt disappointment, my studies of magazines and DVDs having led me to expect the monstrous weapon displayed by those models and actors. What I saw instead was a slim frankfurter, what you would get at a baseball game, not the anticipated knockwursts that you find in the meat department. But those were images useful only for self-pleasure. What Neil showed was flesh, throbbing living flesh that he would use to pleasure me, to plumb the essentially virgin depths between my legs, to titillate my clit, to explode its creamy spend inside my body. This was the cock, the musky blood-filled five or six inches of a boy's manhood, that would move me over the line from young girl to Woman!

And as I bent to lick off the unknown drop of moisture pooling at the tip of his purple crown, I decided that my sex life, my heterosexual sex life, that is, would begin with a fuck, not a suck.

I stood quickly, noticing the momentary disappointment on Neil's face until he saw that I was busy shucking my own jeans. Beneath, I wore the teeniest thong, damp with excitement. Mom hadn't been with me when I had bought them. If she had been, that might have triggered The TALK. Wearing it was a rarity for me; I guess that somehow I knew that this day would involve showing them off, showing the dainty fiber outlining my pussy and barely hiding my youthful fuzz. (Actually, of course, I had expected to be showing them off to Cissy, not to Neil.) And then suddenly it hid nothing for it was in my hand, pressed gently against his nose. He smiled as he inhaled, and the wickedness of my conduct excited me even more than it did him.

On my knees then, my torso swaying gently as it rubbed my nipples slowly over Neil's chest, our lips met again. My legs splayed out as wide as possible when he slid two fingers inside me, searching, probing, swimming inside my gushing lust. I hovered over him, my hand taking control of his hard flesh, caressing, stroking it while at the same time positioning it right underneath me, under the self-lubricating sheath that defines Woman. I began to lower myself down; his two fingers scooted out of the way without having to be told.

My eyes began to narrow, instinctively closing the way they did whenever I made love with his sister. And then my brain forced them open, as I realized that I didn't plan to make love with Neil, I simply planned to fuck him. I wanted to see what I was doing, to watch his face and eyes as we locked our organs together. I wanted to see the effects of the power that a willing cunt has over a teen-age boy. And for some reason, I wanted him to know that I was not enraptured by him, that he was just a handy cock.

But my resolve faded quickly as my labia began to spread over the turgid meat. My eyes closed tightly as I felt the damp inner walls of my vagina relax to make room for its first ever cock, the coupling of male and female that has gone on since the beginning of time. My fingers clasped him tightly, allowing him to enter me just a fraction of an inch at a time. It was exquisite, the feeling of woman-ness that I had never felt before, certainly not from Cissy's fingers or lips, the feeling of entry that I had always wondered about but never before experienced. Nor savored so profoundly.

And then he was inside me fully as the last of my depth-controlling fingers moved out of the way. I opened my eyes again, to see a face beneath me, a face dedicated both to Neil's satisfaction and yes, happily, to mine also. His hand went around my back to pull my chest to his lips, which fastened on one nipple after the other. While still so attached, he used both hands to lift my hips upward, exposing all of his cock except the crown. Then he pulled me down gently, and up and down again and again. He was masturbating, as it were, but using my pussy as his hand.

Lifting my body though was slow work, and I've come to understand that cocks want orgasms without delay. Most of them, that is. Some, like Gramps, know how important it is for the girl — excuse me, for the Woman — to cum before him or at worst at the same time as he does. He holds back; he cares. Some guys don't or won't, but some can be trained. I've made progress with Neil; he's better than most of the boys I fuck now.

Anyway, that day I still didn't know anything about riding him like a cowgirl and so I let him do the work. Then he became impatient, rolled me over on to my back and started to pump inside me like a madman. Well, it was enjoyable, but I could tell that he was going to cum without giving a damn about whether or not I got off. For a fraction of a second I wondered if that was how he treated his sister, but then I decided to worry about myself.

"Slow down, Neil. Give me a chance to cum before you do."

Shit, Shit, SHIT! Talk about turning a garden hose on a couple of fucking dogs. Neil nodded, slow down and suddenly stopped, suspended over me. I could feel his cock begin to shrivel up inside me. Then he flopped onto his back and began to half laugh, half cry. I had never seen a soft cock before and I knew that my big mouth had caused it. I wanted to kill myself, I felt so stupid. And I knew that it was up to me to correct the situation. But I also knew enough to shut up.

I slid down and took his limp dick into my mouth. I had never before had any kind of cock in my mouth, hard or soft. But I knew from the porn I had seen what to do with it. And also from what my friends had told me: "Blow is just an expression, honey. Suck!"

Neil was quiet, absorbing what I was about to do. Being blown is simply the easiest way for a guy to cum, no strain on the hand, no effort by the hips. And it is also the ultimate turn-on, for he is being serviced while the girl gets no satisfaction whatever. Of course, that's only for the straight guys, who have no idea how delicious a guy's cum really is to a girl in heat. Sure, many of them have tasted their own sauce, but it doesn't have the same effect as it does to the girl doing the work. I had no doubt that Cissy had taken care of her brother in this manner many times, but I was a new mouth for him, and thus especially exciting.

Starting off with a cock that had been deflated by the conversation, it took a surprisingly short time for the blood to flow back into it. It helped that I fondled his balls while I sucked. That was something that just came to me naturally, never having noticed it on a DVD nor been told about it by any of the girls in school. I did all the work, my head bobbing up and down as if his cock was an apple at an Autumn party. That also allowed me to torment Neil a little bit. I could slow down, and I did so when his breathing seemed to speed up, and hold back his cum for as long as I wanted. This did me none of the good that I wanted when his cock was inside me, for it would not help me cum, but as I said, sucking can be exciting.

And suddenly his hand was on the back of my head, holding tightly so that I couldn't bob anymore, as his sperm spurted and spurted and spurted up into my mouth. I swallowed as much as I could, but some of it oozed out the corners of my mouth. Neil reached down and scooped the last of it onto his finger, offering it to my mouth. I took it with a smile and then slid up his body until our mouths met. I noticed that he didn't hesitate when I stuck my tongue between his lips. Cissy probably fed him his own cum, it seemed. I knew that I shouldn't but I asked anyway.