18 comments/ 200154 views/ 38 favorites A Most Observant Son By: MisterReason This is a story that has both incestuous and voyeuristic themes. The entire story is presented below. *** July 14, 1965. If you, dear reader, were alive on that day, do you remember what you were doing? Chances are, you don't. For me, the day was just as significant as the day President Kennedy was assassinated, or the day Neil Armstrong made that one giant leap for mankind. If you were alive back then, you remember what you were doing on those days, as do I. I also remember July 14, 1965. It was a Wednesday, and our area was going through a bit of a heat wave then. It was a heat wave that would cause severe thunderstorms during the day, and I recall their intensity very clearly too. I had just graduated high school, and before heading off to the local community college in the fall, was spending my 18th summer enjoying my favorite hobbies. I loved baseball, and spent every afternoon hanging around the local ball field, playing in pick-up games until dinner time. My other hobby, and one that frankly I was better at, was masturbation. Since I was a homely guy with bad acne and social skills that were awkward at best, I spent considerable time with my best friend in hand, stroking away while wearing out my very limited collection of pornography, which consisted of two very ratty copies of Playboy and a black and white photo of a woman by the name of Virginia Bell, who had big tits. I had found the photo in the crawl space of our attic, apparently belonging to my old man, and had taken possession of it for my own use. I must have spilled a quart of semen while drooling over the woman, who wasn't incredibly attractive but had tits, and that was enough for me. The attic. My explorations of that musty and dusty place, where you could only stand up straight in at the very center and you could only access by pulling down a stairway from a hatch in the hallway, netted me much more than the photo, because it was up there that I discovered a secret about our old house. You could see down into the other rooms from up there. Apparently there had been some sort of different heating system installed in the house at one point, and although the ducts were no longer used, the little squares with the grates covering them remained. The view in each room was limited, of course, but I was able to look into my older sister's room and my parents as well. It was a tribute to how horny I was back then that I actually looked down into my sister's bedroom. My sister, bless her soul, was the female equivalent of me. Homely and flat-chested, I got to see her in all of her glory on many occasions, and it was all I could do to not laugh when she would stand in front of her dresser mirror playing with some device she had bought from the Mark Eden company that was supposed to make her breasts bigger. "I must. I must. I must increase my bust!" Emily would chant as she would stand there for the longest time in an obviously futile attempt to make her little sprouts blossom. Emily's tits never grew until after she managed to get married and had kids, and then she got her wish, but that was years after she moved out. Not laughing was essential to watching from up there. I could hear just fine from up there, so obviously any sound I made would be heard down in the bedrooms, therefore I had to be quiet. Not only quiet, but once I got up there, I had to not move around very much. Our house creaked like all old houses did, but someone started walking around up there, you would know it downstairs, therefore it was essential that once I settled in I stayed still. The action was more exciting in my parents bedroom, even if they only had sex on Saturday nights. They never did it with the lights on either, so a lot of times I couldn't see real well either, but my mother did get dressed and undressed everyday, and I liked that. My Mom wasn't a raving beauty, but for a woman who was 47 in 1965 she was pretty cute. Mom wasn't fat but solidly built, probably carrying about 130 pounds on her five foot two frame. She had short black hair and olive-toned skin, and was a woman that looked so much better with her clothes off, as I learned. Mom dressed like most housewives back then, usually with very little makeup and wearing these drab house-dresses that didn't flatter. She would also wear socks - usually these little white ones - unlike housewives on TV who wore stockings and jewelry and never did housework. When I first saw Mom naked, I was stunned. Seeing her take off that old frumpy bra and watching those big boobs roll out knocked me for a loop. About as big as old Virginia Bell's were, and a lot fuller than her modest everyday appearance suggested, and they had these enormous crimson aureoles that were as big around as a baseball. Mom had a real jungle of hair between her legs too; a rich overgrown triangle that must have been in part due to her Italian heritage, and she was so hairy down there that the fur peeked out of the leg openings of her panties, which were not exactly the kind that were in any way revealing. When Mom and Dad would screw on Saturday nights, and I was able to manage to get up in the attic in time to watch, I was in heaven. It didn't last long usually, but I loved listening to them. Seeing the old man was reassuring to me, because his modest sized dick wasn't any bigger than mine was. He would already be hard when he climbed on top of Mom, and he would root around in her for about a minute before he would groan loudly and collapse on Mom. Sometimes Mom would make some noise too but usually Dad would just roll off and go to sleep. One of my best memories was one time when the old man went in to take a shower after humping Mom. While he was in the bathroom, Mom started playing with her pussy, her one hand inside of herself and the other hand clawing at her tits until she curled up into a ball and started shaking and crying out. By the time the old man came back in, she was under the sheets again with her back to him like she always did after they had sex. But back to July 14, 1965... I was going to head off to the baseball field as usual around 10:00 a.m., and when I told my mother that, she told me she was going to be out shopping most of the day. When I noticed that she was going to take a shower I pretended to leave the house and then doubled back inside. Plenty of time for baseball, I figured, so when I heard the shower turn on in the bathroom I opened the hatch and pulled down the stairs, scurrying up to the attic and yanking the stairs back up after me. I had plenty of time to position myself at the vent, and got myself ready. My jeans and briefs came down and I got my handkerchief ready, fully prepared to enjoy watching Mom come in and do her thing at the dresser mirror before getting dressed and heading out. I would be back down the stairs and at the park in a half hour, or so I figured. As it turned out, I was going to be up there a lot longer than I expected, and over the next five hours my entire life changed. *** My dick was hard when Mom came into the bedroom, humming some old Elvis song as was her habit, and as she tossed her fluffy pink bathrobe onto the bed I got a great view of her damp body from the rear. Mom had a nice butt that might have been a bit on the large side but was nicely rounded and pretty solid, and when she bent down to pick something off of the floor I saw the crack of her ass. As the full globes parted, her hair-filled ass crack was revealed to me for a brief second before she sat in front of the mirror and began brushing her hair. Because I was more of a breast man that an ass aficionado, I was saving my orgasm for when she would turn around and give me a nice frontal view, so I did more holding of my dick than stroking. When at last she would turn around for me, I would bring myself to climax while enjoying her tits and bush, but this time that moment happened faster than usual. The blue Princess phone rang, startling me, and when I watched Mom run over to answer it, her big jugs swaying as she moved, I covered my cock as it spat a copious load into the handy handkerchief. "Hello?" Mom said breathlessly. "Yes Paul," Mom said after a second. "He's gone. Went to Boston on business. Sean's gone too, off to play ball all day. We've got the place to ourselves." "Yes. Hurry," Mom said and hung up the phone before hurrying back to the make-up table. Paul. My mother had a boyfriend? MY mother? This couldn't be. That was stuff that went on in the movies, and as I watched my Mom go back to brushing her hair I looked at her in a different way. Disgusted? Disappointed? Yes, but I felt something else too, and although I didn't understand it I looked at my mother differently now. Somebody else wanted her. Somebody besides me, and my friend Doug Graves (who had the hots for her for years) thought she was really good looking no matter how hard she tried to hide it with her frumpy attire. Mom was putting on make-up, taking care to put the lipstick on straight, and then she was dabbing perfume behind her ears. After that, she sprayed deodorant under her arms. Mom didn't ever shave her armpits, except for that one time she was in her younger sister's wedding and had to shave because the dress was sleeveless. I remember the old man complaining about it, so I guess the pit hair was his idea. That used to embarrass me early on, because not only didn't she shave like most of the other guy's mothers did, but Mom was really hairy, and when she would raise her arms you could see the hair if she was wearing one of those house-dresses with the little cap sleeves. My friend Doug had noticed that too, which made me feel really embarrassed until he told me that he thought it was really sexy. "All of them Italian movie stars - Sophia Loren and Gina Lollobrigida - they let their pit hair grow too," Doug assured me, and as time went on I began to find it more and more erotic as well. The fact that Doug even mentioned my mother in the same breath as those actresses made me feel proud too. Mom was putting a little yellow nightie on now, something I had never seen before, and as she scurried around in anticipation, it occurred to me that I was stuck up in the attic. Not that I wanted to leave now, mind you, but how long would I be able to stay still up here? It was already hot and stuffy as hell, and before look it might become oppressive. When Mom left the bedroom for a minute and I heard the toilet flush, I took the opportunity to move around a little and get more comfortable. There was a towel that I pulled over to rest my elbow on instead of the rough wood floor, and resigned myself to the fact that I was up here for the duration. *** Mom was nervous - just as nervous as I was it seemed. She was pacing the floor and looking out the window every so often to keep a watch for her mystery lover. She grabbed her electric razor out of the drawer not once but twice, putting her legs up on the chair and running the noisy appliance up and down her calves for a minute and then running her palm up and down her full and curvy legs to check her work. When Mom went back to look out the window once again, from behind her came her guest, who had apparently let himself in the house while she was preoccupied. She jumped when she heard him enter the room, and when he came into my range of vision I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. "Paul," my mother said as she ran into his arms, and I mouthed the name as well as I looked down on the two of them, barely six feet away from me. You see, I knew Paul. I knew him very well, although I had never called him Paul. To me, the tall slender man with the thinning grey hair was not Paul. I called him Grandpa. *** I had put some of that towel in my mouth, trying to stifle what sounded to me like my overly loud breathing, and watched as my grandfather kissed my mother in a way that he did not kiss his daughter when he would visit for Christmas dinner. Grandpa had a fist full of my mother's hair in his hand, and as he clenched the back of her scalp he pulled her skull backwards. "How's my little slut?" Grandpa asked my Mom, whose eyes looked as wild as they had been when I talked her into riding the roller-coaster at the carnival years ago. "Need you so bad," Mom gasped, her hands scrambling over the buttons on her husband's father's shirt, and her hands were shaking so bad that she was fumbling with the simple task. "I can tell, you pig," Grandpa sneered as she finally managed to get the shirt off him, exposing his skinny upper torso, his chest covered with a silver pelt of hair. Mom's hands were sliding up and down Grandpa's wiry arms, over the faded tattoos on her biceps. Grandpa used to make the mermaid on his right arm dance for me by flexing his muscles when he was a kid, but now my Mom's fingers were squeezing that ink in what looked like a death grip. This couldn't be happening, I recall thinking as I watched my mother attacking this man, who was in his sixties, like he was Elvis Presley or something. My Mom was nuzzling into his neck and running her hands all over his body, practically climbing over him while he stood there like she was his slave. "Hot as hell in here," Grandpa said, running his hands through his thinning grey hair and linking his fingers behind his head, thrusting his chest out like he was Jack LaLanne, and I almost giggled when I wondered how he would like it up here, where it had to be close to 100 degrees. Mom was running her hands through the hair on Grandpa's chest, raking her nails through the pelt that was much thicker than that on his head. She leaned forward and sucked on his nipples, getting Grandpa to growl in a deep voice, and then let her tongue slide over into his armpit, lapping at the wild spray of long grey hairs like an animal. "Want to taste your sweat - taste you everywhere," Mom said, and Grandpa chuckled as he brought his hand on top of Mom's head. "Then get busy," Grandpa said while pushing Mom down to her knees. It was as if Mom was under a spell of some kind, because she was not only taking Grandpa's derisive treatment, she seemed to be loving it. Where was the woman who would rip my old man a new one if he forgot to take out the garbage? To Dad she was often feisty and argumentative, but with Grandpa it was like she was his servant. Part of me wanted to run down downstairs and rescue my Mom from this man - a man I thought I knew - but it was clear that Mom didn't want to be rescued. Instead, Mom was kneeling in front of Grandpa, looking up at him like he was a king while she undid his belt. His baggy trousers fell to the floor, and Mom took them off of his pale legs as he stepped out of them, folding the pants and setting them on the chair beside the bed before her hands took hold of the top of his equally baggy boxer shorts and slowly eased them down. It was then that I hit my head lightly on the grate I was looking though, and the sound made Grandpa look around, although it was clear that he didn't know where the noise came from. I held my breath as I leaned backwards for a second. When I looked back down, what I was seeing was so surreal that I felt like I was hallucinating. Grandpa's cock was swinging between those skinny legs of his, and although I rarely looked at the other guys in the showers after gym, the dicks I had seen before bore no relation to Grandpa's manhood. I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand to clear my vision as Mom took Grandpa's cock in her hands - one hand wrapped halfway around the stump of his huge member and the other holding it up by the middle while her mouth moved closer. Grandpa was uncircumcised, like my old man, but it was clear that while my father and I might have inherited some traits from Grandpa, we sure didn't get blessed with anything approaching the ungodly weapon that my mother was running her tongue over. Years later, watching an adult movie with my wife, she would look at John Holmes and declare that nobody could be built like that and that it had to be trick photography. John Holmes had nothing on Grandpa though, and in fact I think Grandpa was bigger. "Suck that cock, Anna!" Grandpa grunted as Mom peeled the foreskin back so she could lick the plum-sized head. "Make me hard so I can fuck you silly. Gonna have your ass today." "Please don't Paul!" Mom said, sounding terrified. "Anything but that. You're much too big. It hurts too much." "Quit yakking and start sucking," Grandpa barked, grabbing Mom by the hair again and pulling her head backward sharply. "You know you want it." Mom went back to try to stuff as much of Grandpa's enormous appendage into her mouth as she could while trying to move her hands up and down the shaft of the cock, which seemed really rubbery judging by the way it was wiggling in her grasp. After a minute of watching this, Grandpa's cock was still limp but to my shame, mine wasn't, and as I watched Mom's mouth gobbling that cock intensely, I popped another load into my handkerchief. From above me, I heard a clap of thunder, and after that I began to hear some raindrops hitting the metal roof a couple of feet over my head. When the occasional drops became more like a staccato, I wished the roof leaked so I could quench what was becoming a powerful thirst. "Come on you slut!" Grandpa said, taking his cock from Mom and slapping her across the cheek with the salami a couple of times before reaching over and pulling something out of his trouser pocket. "Put this on me." Mom took this small strap of some kind, which looked about as wide as a belt, and as Grandpa held his cock upright, Mom wrapped it around the base of his dick. "Tighter you pig," Grandpa snarled. "Tighter. Watch the hair." Whatever it was, Mom had that thing wrapped tightly around the base of Grandpa's cock, and when she went back to sucking Grandpa it started to get hard right away. The formerly beige-toned organ was getting a reddish hue to it, and as it got longer and harder Mom really got to work on it. Her hands were wrapped around the shaft right above where the binding was, and her mouth went up and down most of what her pumping and spinning hands could not take in. Mom leaned back a couple of times and spat on his penis, affording me a look at Grandpa's erect penis, which I swear had to be a foot long by then. "Up," Grandpa commanded, and he reached down and helped her get to her feet before yanking the pretty nightie over Mom's head. "Let me at these udders of yours." Grandpa's long and bony fingers grabbed Mom's pendulous tits and mauled them roughly, squeezing the very pliant globes so hard his hands seemed embedded in the tender flesh. "You like this jugs manhandled, don't you? Yeah!" Grandpa hissed as he grabbed Mom's nipples and pulled upward, actually lifting them by their fat pegs, and as Mom cried out he lifted them higher, twisting the thick nipples as he did, until it looked like Mom was going to faint. "On your back," Grandpa barked, letting go of Mom's nipples, which looked twice as big as they had been before. "You know what I want." As Grandpa practically threw my mother on the bed, I shifted my position so I could still see. I often went into my parents bedroom and nudged the bed a little closer to my observation post so I would be afforded a better view, but it usually got moved in the usual spot after a while. Mom got onto her back, much like she did when Dad would mount her, but instead of climbing onto Mom like my old man did, Grandpa climbed onto the bed and faced the foot of the bed, straddling her face with his knees. My angle of vision was restricted to seeing Grandpa's cock swaying in front of him like a third leg, crimson in color now. A Most Observant Son "Lick em'!" Grandpa said as he seemed to be rubbing his balls over Mom's face while pushing his cock down between her breasts and squeezing her gigantic jugs around his meat. I could see the top of Mom's head bobbing, moving in a way to accommodate her father, and I wished I could see better, although Grandpa was providing a lot of detail with his caustic words. "Suck that egg sack! Make them sweaty balls clean," Grandpa said, raising his head upwards and sighing loudly. "That's it. Now here comes what you want most of all." I heard Mom let out a muffled cry as Grandpa leaned upward and backward, almost as if he was trying to sit on Mom's face. It took me a minute to learn that it was exactly what he was doing. "Argh!" Grandpa howled as he wiggled his bottom into my Mom's face. "Get that tongue in there deep. Lick my asshole like the slut that you are." This was so far out of my world of experience that I couldn't comprehend what I was unable to see, and instead had to rely on the verbal utterances. My grandfather kept grinding his ass into my Mom's face while gripping his by-now almost purple cock with both hands and moving his fists up and down the obscenely swollen manhood. How he kept from cumming is something that eluded me. Maybe it was something that came with age because I had virtually no self control in that regard. Even though I had already cum, and I was in an uncomfortable position in what felt like a pizza oven, none of that could stop me from cumming, even though my dick was only semi-hard. My dick tingled as I spat some seed into the drenched handkerchief while continuing to watch what was happening. Grandpa got off of my mother's face, which was now beet-red and wet, and climbed off of the bed and out of my sight for a moment, returning with what looked like a belt, probably my father's. Grandpa wrapped the strap around my Mom's wrists and secured them, and then yanked her arms back over her head to tie up the belt on the headboard. "Please," Mom begged as my grandfather climbed onto the bed and spread her legs apart roughly, and he chuckled as he raked his fingers through her bush. "You really want it, don't you slut?" Grandpa cackled, waving his cock in his hand. "Your cunt is sloppy wet. You can't wait for this, can you? Just a slave for my big cock, aren't you" Mom writhed on the bed as Grandpa put a finger inside of her, and then she cried out louder as he seemed to be putting another finger - hell, maybe his whole hand in her. I couldn't see that clearly, and Mom was kicking her legs around and squealing so much that I couldn't tell. The squeal was nothing to the sound that my mother made after my grandfather slid a pillow under her butt and moved up between her legs. Grandpa's cock, which because of that binding around the base of it, had become a purplish crimson, and with his foreskin peeled back, the skin on the plum-sized head of his cock looked so taut that I cringed. Grandpa then moved into Mom, and as his enormous weapon slid into her - NOT tenderly but forcefully - he seemed to be savoring the blood-curdling howl that came out of the mouth of the woman I thought I knew. "AHHH!!!" cried out my grandfather as he apparently sank his entire manhood into my mother's pussy, and after looking down at my mother with her head arched back to the headboard and her mouth wide open, he went to work. This was worlds different than the only other sex I had seen. Dad was no Romeo, but when he mounted Mom he moved inside of her a couple of dozen times really fast and he was done. Grandpa began by moving his cock in and out of Mom really slowly, pulling every inch of that monstrosity out of her pussy before impaling her once again, and every time he went in he finished with a brutal thrust. The slapping of their flesh was joined by Mom groaning, and I couldn't tell whether it was from pleasure or pain. Maybe it was both. Combined with the thunder, lighting and rain from above, and the groaning and moaning below me, I felt like I was in some kind of horror movie. Grandpa's face was beet red, and sweat was flying off of him and all over Mom as he continued to slam himself into her, and this didn't end after only about a minute. Not only did he keep going well past Dad's finishing time, he started going faster and harder. Mom looked like she was trying to levitate herself off the bed, and I noticed that the belt had come undone from the headboard that Grandpa had secured it to, but she kept her hands back there as if she was actually tied down. Every muscle, every tendon and every vein in Mom's face and neck were visible as she screamed out, looking like she had that night after she played with herself, only much more so. Grandpa kept humping her all the while, and as he did he was cursing, calling her all kinds of names while her eyes rolled back in her head. Now Mom was limp, but amazingly Grandpa was still going strong. This guy, who everybody always fretted over because it took him a while to climb a flight of stairs, had Mom's ankles in his hands and was spreading her legs wide while he slammed in and out of her. Hell, I was tired watching him. Finally he pulled his cock out of Mom and knee-walked up to the head of the bed, his swollen and frighteningly discolored manhood in one hand while he undid the binding on it with the other. He just made it up to Mom's face when he let out a sound that sounded more animal than human. "Open your mouth, you whore!" Grandpa bellowed, sounding as loud as the thunder, and as he yelled, his cock erupted. Mom had her mouth open so wide I could see the fillings in her back teeth, and some of Grandpa's cum actually went in her mouth. Most sprayed all over her face, covering her with a series of spurts that seemed to be every bit as plentiful as any I had managed out of myself. Grandpa knelt there above her, milking all he could out of his cock as it slowly deflated. There were still deep grooves where that band had been around the base of his dick, and I didn't know why he wore the thing. Maybe it was to help him get hard or to keep himself from cumming. All I know is that as he dropped the tip of his cock into Mom's still-open mouth and told her to suck out all she could from it, the marks that were still there looked painful. Grandpa finally eased down on the bed next to Mom, his hands behind his head as he looked up towards the ceiling, and he finally started resembling the guy that used to bounce me on his knees years ago. My Mom, however, was still unrecognizable. "So good Paul," Mom said as she shrugged the belt off of her wrists and leaned over him, taking Grandpa's very flaccid cock in his hand and started to stretch it like it was made of elastic. "Felt so good to get fucked like that." "Can't get enough, can you?" Grandpa asked as he watched Mom pulling on his member. "You get it up again, and you know where it's going." "I can't Paul," Mom said, shaking her head in between slobbering all over his cock. "That was so good what we just did. I want you in my cunt again." "What did you say?" Grandpa barked as he reached up and grabbed my mother by the back of the hair and pulled her head backward. "Did you say no?" "I meant - I mean, I'm sorry," Mom pleaded, but the didn't look all that scared, but more like she was enjoying it and they were playing around, although my grandfather didn't sound like he was playing. "It's just that I came so good just now. I'll do it. I'm sorry." "You'll do what?" Grandpa snarled. "Let you do it," Mom said. "I'll let you do it." "Let me do what?" "Let you stick - why do you make me say it?" Mom asked. "Because I like to hear you say it," Grandpa snapped. "Say it." "I'll let you stick your cock in my ass," Mom finally said reluctantly with a pouting expression on her face. "Shit!" Grandpa said. "You have more problem saying the word ass than you do sticking your tongue in one." Grandpa let go of Mom's hair then, and she went back to sucking on him, but in a minute he told her to stop. "I need something to drink," Grandpa said. "Get me a beer." Mom got out of bed and left my sight, apparently on her way to get my grandfather a beer, and while she was gone I tried to imagine what Mom would have done if my old man had given that kind of order. He would have gotten the beer, but it might have been delivered upside his head. Looking down at Grandpa, I found myself drawn to his cock, which rested in his lower belly where Mom had left it. I wasn't looking at it with lust or anything. It was more like envy. What happened to the family gene pool? I was going to end up with the balding trait instead of the gigantic dick, just like Pop. The thing was longer soft than mine was hard, so that made it more than 6 inches - well, alright - 5 and a half. It was at least twice as thick as mine as well. Erect, who knows? Mom had just wrapped both of her hands around it, along with that stupid strap, and she still had a mouthful left over. If Betsy Morrow had grabbed something like that when I forced her hand onto my jeans that day in the woods, I'll bet she wouldn't have jerked her hand away. The again, maybe she would have not only pulled away but might have run home instead of continuing to neck with me. The thing that looked like a snake was scary to me and I wasn't even near it. Mom returned with a mug filled with beer along with the quart bottle that she had poured it out of. Hedrick Beer. My old man's favorite, and one of the most vile brews ever concocted, and as Grandpa chugged it down the way my dry mouth and my parched throat felt, I would have given anything to have been able to down one of those 35 cent quarts right then myself. As the storm continued to rage outside I managed to stretch my legs somewhat, the sound of my bones cracking lost in the sounds of the elements up there. Thankfully, I didn't have to pee, and I tried not to think about what I would do if I ever had to really go. The possibility of suddenly developing the need to do the other bodily function was too horrifying to even think about. *** The two of them lounged around on the bed for what seemed like an hour, and although Grandpa said little they did mention the possibility of me returning home because of the rain. Mom said that since I didn't come home right away, she figured I would have gone to Doug's house to wait out the storm. Just in case, Grandpa told Mom to lock the door and as an additional precaution, he had her turn on the radio. "Louder," Grandpa said, and while I thought at first it was because he was hard of hearing, he cleared that up for me. "When I start fucking your ass you're going to be howling." The cheap radio with the faded yellow plastic case was tinny sounding, and what was worse was the selection of stations. Grandpa nixed WTRY, where DJ Lee Gray was pumping out "The Last Time" by the Stones, and when Mom stopped spinning the dial it ended up in elevator music heaven. There's nothing like looking at your mother licking the underside of your grandfather's cock while The Singing Nun warbles "Dominique" at full blast after Andy Williams sailed down "Moon River". The music hardly registered after Grandpa reached deep into the night stand beside the bed and pulled out a jar of Vaseline. He told Mom to get something and she walked right towards the corner I was at and went into the closet, returning with what looked liked a black billy club. Grandpa greased up the club and had Mom lay on her back again while he knelt between her spread legs. Mom wiggled the billy club through her bush and then began working it in and out of her pussy, while Grandpa rubbed grease all over his cock while he stretched it out. "Paul," Mom said as she pushed the thing faster. "Put your cock in my cunt first. Just for a minute. I want to cum with it inside me." This time Grandpa put the band around his cock himself, all the time watching Mom get more and more excited, and when he got hard enough he mounted her. Mom was howling in less that a minute, as about a half dozen quick thrusts got Mom to cum again. "Assume the position!" Grandpa said after Mom stopped shaking, and with a lot of reluctance Mom rolled over and got on all fours. "Get that big ass of yours up in the air," he instructed, and as Mom raised the lower part of her torso Grandpa brought his Vaseline-covered hand up to Mom's ass, and without hesitation stuck his fingers into that furry crack. "Ow!" Mom cried out as Grandpa started spinning his wrist around. "It hurts, Paul." "That's only 2 fingers, you whining slut. Here's the third." "OW!" Mom cried out as Grandpa knelt there looking pleased at the discomfort he was causing my mother. "Cant- can't take it!" "That right?" my grandfather asked. "Maybe I should stop now and go home." "NO!" Mom screamed, spreading her ass wider while Grandpa resumed skewering her ass with his fingers. "How's this feel?" Grandpa asked as he took his fingers out and brought the baton up to her opening, easing it in about halfway while Mom sobbed over Acker Bilk playing "Stranger on the Shore". "If you can't take that what are you going to do when the real thing gets rammed up your rectum? Grandpa asked as my mother begged for mercy, spinning the rod into Mom a couple more times before retracting it. "Don't that look fine?" Grandpa opined as he looked at something I was not able to see. "Your anus is open nice and wide now. Custom made for my fat cock!" "Put it in me!" Mom cried out. "Put your fucking cock in my ass!" I turned away for a second, even though from where I was all I could see was the profile, but my curiosity overcame my horror. I cringed while Grandpa, crouched over Mom like a Praying Mantis while his cock was clenched tightly in his fist, forced himself into her opening. Mom had her face buried in the bedding, and it sounded like she was eating the pillow while Grandpa pushed more and more of his enormous cock into her. He finally stopped when he forced about half of it in, but half was still half a foot, or close enough. He began moving back and forth, not nearly as hard or fast as he had done in Mom's pussy, but it but have been good for him because he was making all sorts of faces as he fucked her bottom. Grandpa had gotten down from his crouching position to one where he was one his knees, and he continued to work his cock as he reached down around Mom and grabbed her tits, which were swaying down below her. He was so rough with her breasts, kneading the doughy jugs with his long bony fingers, but Mom didn't complain and let him do it. Soon Grandpa's pace quickened, and as it did the two of them started grunting, almost in unison as the bed began to bump against the wall. It was almost an animal-like ritual at this point, devoid of anything resembling any human behavior I had ever witnessed. Grandpa grabbed Mom by the hair again, pulling her head back and cursing at her. "You didn't ever let that spade garbage man fuck you in this ass like this, did you?" Grandpa snarled, throwing some more descriptive epitaphs in and confusing me ever more. "Only you, Dad!" Mom cried. "Nobody but you. Nobody can fuck me like you do Dad!" "You like it rough like this, don't you? You like my big cock ripping your asshole up, don't you?" he snarled, and Mom whimpered yes. "Take it! Take it all! Take every fucking inch of it!" Grandpa gave it to her, alright. He gave it to Mom rough and hard. He spanked the cheeks of her ass so hard they turned red, and slapped the sides of her tits as the swayed around. He even reached under Mom's arms and yanked on the tufts of hair, causing her to scream at Grandpa while he cackled like a madman. "Harder!" Mom howled, not only accepting the brutal physical and verbal treatment but seeming to revel in it. After what seemed like forever, Grandpa stopped all of a sudden, and then fell on top of Mom's back. At first I thought he had a heart attack of something, but then he let out a long and low moan, which I guessed to be a signal that he was popping his load deep in her bowels. Mom's hands and knees gave out then, and they both collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. Mom giggled as Grandpa eased himself up off of her and his cock wiggled out, and as he climbed off of her everything changed. Grandpa helped Mom get up, and as she rolled over, for a second I could see the semen oozing out of her wipe open anus before she got to her feet unsteadily. They were gone for a few minutes and then I heard the shower going. I was tempted to try and sneak down the stairs but was glad I didn't when I saw Grandpa return. He had a change of bedding in his arms, and after he stripped the bed he put on the fresh sheets and pillowcases. The shower turned off and when Mom came back into the bedroom she hugged him and crawled onto the bed. Grandpa toweled off the moisture and proceeded to give Mom a massage with some kind of powder, treating her with a tenderness that was bordering on worship that was the polar opposite of the way he had been treating her before. After he finished he mercifully turned off the radio and left the room, and the sound of the shower came on again. In a moment he came back into the bedroom, and Mom got up. They hugged and kissed again, with all of the passion but none of the roughness that they had greeted each other with. They were like lovers, and after they broke apart they got dressed and left the room. I heard the door close and then a car started up. I guessed Mom was going to go shopping now, so after a few minutes I got up from the position I had been locked into for hours. It took me forever to get straightened up and I was walking like Grandpa when I managed to get over to the trap door and lower the stairs. I got down the stairs as fast as I could while trying to decide what do to first, pee or get a drink, and it was when my foot hit the hallway floor that I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, followed by a gasp. "Sean!" my mother called out. "What... where?" I turned around, trying to think of something to say as my mother looked at me. Quite simply, I was a mess. My shirt was ringing wet and I looked like I had been in a sauna. I smelled like sweat and semen, and if Mom hadn't figured it out by then I guess my flustered reaction did the rest. "Nothing," I mumbled. "I was just looking for something." Clearly, while my mother didn't know what I had been doing up in the attic, she was no fool, and knew damn well that I was lying. "Get back up there." My mother followed me up the stairs, probably entering the attic for the first time in her life, and when she asked me to show me what I had been looking for, I gestured helplessly. She saw the towel in the corner and beside it was the handkerchief that was frozen in a weird shape by my dried cum. Mom went over and picked up the handkerchief with the tips of her fingers and then glanced down at the vent that I had been looking through. The look of horror in her eyes made me hurt far more than the slap she delivered to my cheek, and as she stood there with tears in her eyes I tried to apologize. It was obvious that this sitaution would not go away with a lame apology and a promise never to do it again. Mom looked like a rat in a cage as he walked around the sweatbox as if she wanted to run away, her eyes bulging out of her head as I tried to grab her and stop her from freaking out. "How long were you - dear god no!" Mom said as she looked into the vent I had spent the last few hours looking through, dropping the handkerchief that she had forgotten she was holding. "How could you?" "Me? How could you?" I answered, sorry the minute that the words came out, but they did bring a sense of reality to what had gone on, and after she stood with the head leaning against a cross beam if the slanted ceiling for a couple of minutes it seemed like she was at least under a bit of control. A Most Observant Son Mom motioned for me to go down the stairs and after I went down she followed. I closed up the hatch after she made it back down, and she asked me to join her in the kitchen. I stopped at the sink and drank a number of glasses of water before joining Mom at the table. "I guess you were up there for a while," Mom suggested, and I nodded. "Spying on us." "I didn't know," I said. "I just went up to watch - watch you get dressed." "You watch me get dressed? How long has this been going on?" she asked, the anger in her eyes leaving, and what replaced the fury was either sadness or shame. "A while," I admitted. "You realize that what you were doing was sick," she added. "I know. I don't have any girlfriends and probably never will," I said while trying not to cry. "You're so beautiful that one day I happened to be up there when you were downstairs and I noticed you could see down into the bedrooms through the vents." "The bedrooms?" Mom asked, accentuating the plural part of the word. "Your sister too?" I shrugged, seeing no point in lying. "Dear lord in heaven," Mom said, her voice shaking as much as her hands. "I'm sorry," I said. "Sorry you spied on your family or sorry you got caught at it?" "Both," I said honestly. "Look Sean," Mom said, her voice calmer. "I know you don't understand what you saw. I don't even understand." "How long have you and Gramps..." "A while," mom admitted. "It just sort of happened. Your father - let's just say that while we love each other, it isn't the same. Not that it matters, but he has his own things - but he's not stupid enough to get caught at it, I guess." "Dad?" I said, not figuring him to be involved with anyone but Mom, but then again, what did I really know about anything? "That doesn't matter, but what does matter is this," Mom said. "It's all in your hands. If you want to, you have the power to destroy this family, or what's left of it. I can't stop you. All I can ask you is to think about it first. Think of your father, your sister and your grandmother too." "I won't say anything - to anybody," I said in a vow that I kept until this very moment, now that I'm the only one left alive. "Like I said, I don't expect you to understand, or forgive me," Mom said, patting me on the arm and kissing my forehead. "Please don't judge me by what you saw or heard. Your grandfather either. I love him dearly. If it wasn't for him I wouldn't - let's just leave it at that. Please try and forget what you might have seen." "I'll try," I said, but not only was that not going to be possible, I wasn't sure if I wanted to forget. "I promise you that it will never happen here again," Mom said, looking at me with shame in her eyes as I caught on to her saying that she wouldn't be doing anything with Grandpa again HERE. " Up there, can you see - I mean, are you able to see the whole room?" "Just about," I admitted. "Hear," Mom choked as she spoke. "Can you hear too?" I didn't want to answer but I probably didn't have to, because I could tell by the look on her face that Mom was thinking about everything Grandpa and her had said and the language that they used, so I just shrugged and nodded. Mom slowly left the room, getting in the car and doing the shopping she had spoken about much earlier. Now that the raging storm had ended, the sun was coming out again and with it would come the humidity. I went to take a shower, but first I stopped and ducked into the bedroom where so much had just happened. It smelled like the powder that Grandpa had used on Mom, and the only thing that smelled like sex in the room was me. After I undressed, I looked at my dick, which was rubbed raw and felt like it looked. How many orgasms had I managed up there while I watched? More than what should have been humanly possible, I knew that much. I gingerly touched my dick, which looked even smaller than usual to me after what I had just seen. Grandpa. I don't know if Mom ever told him about me spying on them. I kind of doubt it, because he treated me the same as he always did. I was never able to look at him the same though, because all I could think of when I looked at him was that swinging around inside of those baggy old man pants was the biggest cock I had ever seen. Mom. I tried to treat her like I always had, never stopped loving her and still think she was one of the most erotic women I've ever seen. The other stuff - what I saw and heard with Grandpa - and who knows what that part about a garbage man was all about? Was she a secret slut who took on all comers for rough sex without the old man ever knowing about it, or was her only affair the one with my father's father? I never found out and didn't even try to learn any more. I didn't want to know. I never went back up to spy on Mom again, although I did go up and pick up the evidence of my being up there, mainly the handkerchief that was frozen into a bizarre shape by the copious amount of semen it had absorbed that day. There was really no point in my continuing my voyeuristic activities in my house because after all, I had seen and heard just about everything there was to see. Maybe too much. They're all gone now, except for me, so telling this story now hurts no one *** I guess I still don't understand what brought them together. How could a gentle old man become a raging and dominating animal behind the bedroom door? That didn't make any more sense than seeing a woman who went to church every week and never uttered an dirty word that I ever heard outside of that afternoon, become a submissive sex toy for her husband's father. Then again, here I am writing about my family's dirty laundry and admitting my various perversions and fetishes on a erotic fiction website, so who am I to judge? Oh, and one more thing. When later that year I managed to actually get a girlfriend, and during Christmas break brought her home to meet the family, I ended up sneaking her out of the guest room she had been assigned to my my old man, and into my room late in the evening. As the girl, my future ex-wife, knelt in front of me by my bedside and dropped my jeans so she could suck my cock, I happened to tip my head back as I enjoyed her oral talents and glanced at the vent in the ceiling. It was probably my imagination, but for a second I could have sworn I saw a pair of eyes looking down at us through the vent. The old house did make a lot of creaking noises too, even if nobody was upstairs, so like I said, it was more than likely nothing but my mind playing tricks on me. I'm almost sure of it. **** Thanks for reading.