[Fictional Story Warning: This story is intended for mature audiences and contains themes and situations that may not be suitable for all readers. Reader discretion is advised.]
Hi there. I’m Ellie. Eighteen, stubborn, and currently regretting every life choice that led me to this moment. Let me paint you a picture: I’m standing in front of a mirror, staring at myself in the most ridiculous outfit imaginable. Green elf costume, complete with a skirt that barely covers anything, a hat that looks like it belongs on a cartoon character, and—oh, let’s not forget—the pièce de résistance, a pair of green pantyhose that are somehow both too tight and too loose at the same time. My mom volunteered me for this, by the way. Because apparently, my social life wasn’t already hanging by a thread. But hey, it’s for Grandpa, and saying no to him is like trying to resist a puppy’s sad eyes—impossible. So, here I am, about to embark on what might be the most awkward night of my life. Buckle up, because this is going to be a wild ride.
“Do I seriously have to dress up as an elf?” I groaned, tugging at the hem of the skirt that barely grazed the tops of my thighs. The fabric was itchy, the colour was obnoxious, and the whole ensemble screamed “festive humiliation.” My mom, ever the picture of patience, shot me a look that could’ve frozen lava.
“Yes,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “If you don’t want to do it, go tell your grandfather yourself.”
I sighed, knowing full well I’d never say no to Grandpa. He was the kind of man who could charm the stripes off a zebra. After two years of stepping back from his role as Santa following Grandma’s passing, he was finally returning to it. Grandma had been his everything, and seeing him ready to step back into the spotlight was equal parts heart warming and heart breaking.
“Fine,” I relented, glaring at my reflection. “But if anyone I know sees me like this, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
“You look adorable,” Mom said, her face lighting up with that special brand of maternal pride that only moms can muster.
“Adorable? I’m eighteen, Mom. No eighteen-year-old wants to be called adorable,” I shot back, adjusting the hat that refused to sit straight on my head.
“Well, your outfit’s better than mine,” she countered, gesturing to her frumpy Mrs. Claus dress, white wig, and glasses. She looked like she’d aged twenty years overnight.
“Maybe,” I conceded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. At least in her costume, I might’ve been less recognizable.
“Besides,” she added, “the skirt’s not much shorter than what you usually wear.”
“Now you approve of my wardrobe choices?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I didn’t say I approved,” she clarified. “I’m just pointing out it’s not that different from your usual style.”
“I hate you,” I muttered, half-joking, half-serious. It was our thing—a little ritual we’d developed over the years. After my parents split when I was 10, things had been rocky between us, but we’d found our way back to each other. Now, we were closer than ever, especially since my brother had left for college.
“Oh, you love me,” she said, waving me off like she always did.
“I tolerate you,” I corrected, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, brushing me off.
“And these pantyhose have a hole in the crotch,” I pointed out, tugging at the offending fabric. The material was sheer and clingy, hugging my legs in a way that felt both constricting and revealing. The hole was small but noticeable, right in the most inconvenient spot.
“What? They ripped?” Mom’s tone shifted to annoyance. She was referring to her cousin’s family, who’d filled in for us the past two years while Grandpa was grieving. The tradition of supporting the children’s ward was too important to let slide, even if Grandpa wasn’t up to playing Santa himself at the time.
“Do you have another pair?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Green pantyhose aren’t exactly easy to find,” she said, exasperated. “And we don’t have time. Is the hole really that bad?”
“No, I guess not,” I grumbled, though I was already mentally preparing to take them off. There was no way I was wearing something with a hole in it, no matter how small.
“I always wear green panties with mine,” she offered. “Didn’t you pick a matching pair?”
I hesitated. Now probably wasn’t the best time to admit I was thinking of going commando. I did own a couple of green pairs, but before I could reconsider, Mom glanced at the clock and panicked.
“We need to go. Now. We still have to pick up your grandfather.”
“Pick him up? I thought he was meeting us there,” I said, following her out to the car.
She shook her head. “His car’s in the shop. They need it for another day, so he’s riding with us.”
I stopped in my tracks when I saw the car. It was packed to the brim with raffle items, presents, and even a couple of potted plants. The front passenger seat was blocked by one of the plants, leaving me to squeeze into the back.
“How are we even going to fit Grandpa in here?” I asked, staring at the mountain of packages.
“We’ll make it work,” Mom said, sliding into the driver’s seat. “See if you can rearrange anything back there.”
I climbed in, but the pile was too carefully constructed to mess with. By the time we pulled up to Grandpa’s place, I still hadn’t figured out a solution. He was waiting outside, already in his Santa suit. It was a high-quality outfit, though it hung a little loose on him. He was still fit and full of life, but the suit had clearly been tailored for a rounder belly. He held a small bundle with straps, which I assumed he’d use to stuff his coat later.
I got out of the car and hugged him tightly. Grandpa was one of my favourite people, second only to Mom and Grandma. He held me at arm’s length and gave me an appraising look.
“I can’t believe you fit into that outfit,” he chuckled, “but you look great.”
Mom joined us on the sidewalk, eyeing me critically. “I’m not so sure she does fit in it,” she mused.
Even though I’d been complaining about the costume earlier, I couldn’t let her have the last word. “It fits perfectly fine,” I said, giving her a little wiggle of my hips.
“Ellie,” she sighed, shaking her head.
“Girls will be girls,” Grandpa said with a grin. “Don’t even get me started on the outfits your mom wore in the ’90s.”
“Mom, were you a scandalous teenager?” I teased.
“Dad, look what you’ve done,” Mom groaned.
“Just saying, you’re the pot calling the kettle black,” he said with a wink.
“Mother, I think we need to have a little chat,” I said, smirking.
“For the record, it was the ’90s. Things were different,” she defended.
“You’re grasping at straws,” I shot back, laughing as I opened the car door to reveal the chaos inside.
“Dad, I didn’t realize how much stuff we had in the car,” Mom said, frowning. “I can’t think of any way to rearrange it in time. Would you be okay with Ellie sitting on your lap? but remember she is your granddaughter, keep those old hands to yourself.”
“I told you how much stuff we had,” I pointed out, though I was already considering her solution.
“That’s fine,” Grandpa said, patting his thigh. “It’ll get me warmed up for the long night ahead. Ho, ho, ho.”
“I’m a little bigger than most of the kids,” I warned.
“Have you seen some of these kids lately?” he countered. “Their parents are raising them on potato chips and soda pop.”
Mom and I laughed as he squeezed into the seat, his belly bag wedged between the stack of packages and the roof. I climbed in after him, trying to maintain some dignity, but the skirt was way too short. I could feel the cool air on my legs as I struggled to sit down without flashing him.
Finally, Grandpa took matters into his own hands, gripping my waist and plopping me onto his lap. As I settled, I froze. There was something… firm beneath me. Was it part of his costume? Or… no, I was definitely overthinking it.
Mom closed the door and started the car. “Get comfortable,” she said, laughing as she pulled away from the curb. The sudden movement pushed me deeper into Grandpa’s lap, and I felt something throb under me. The way Mom drove over bumpy roads made it impossible to avoid shifting against him, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to be the longest car ride of my life—and one hell of a ride.
“Jesus, Mom,” I muttered under my breath as another jolt rocked the car, sending me sliding against Grandpa’s unintentional firmness. He stiffened noticeably under me, his hands instinctively securing me tighter against him to restore balance. “These roads are murder.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” she called back from the front, her voice tinged with amusement and a bit of concern at the state of local infrastructure. “We’ll be there soon.”
I felt Grandpa’s breath hitch as we hit another pothole and I couldn’t help but squirm more than necessary, testing boundaries that seemed to blur every bump in the road. I felt my gash tingle as the car jolted.
“You know,” he started, his voice low and rumbly like it was Christmas Eve itself. “If you keep wiggling like that on Santa’s lap, you might just find your surprise early.”
The moment the words left Grandpa’s lips, the car seemed to freeze in time. My eyes widened, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and something else I couldn’t quite place. Mom, oblivious to the tension in the backseat, chuckled softly as she navigated another turn.
“Dad, you’re such a kidder,” she said, her tone light and dismissive. But I could feel the way Grandpa’s hands tightened slightly around my waist, his grip firm yet not uncomfortable. His breath was warm against the back of my neck, and I could swear I felt his heartbeat quicken beneath me.
“Uh, yeah,” I stammered, trying to laugh it off but failing miserably. My voice came out higher-pitched than usual, and I quickly cleared my throat, hoping to regain some semblance of composure. “Good one, Grandpa.”
He didn’t respond immediately, and the silence that followed was deafening. The only sounds were the hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel beneath the tires. I could feel the tension radiating off him, and it was making it hard to think straight. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Was he joking? Was this just his usual playful banter, or had I crossed some invisible line by wriggling against him like that?
I shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure between us, but the movement only seemed to make things worse. Grandpa’s hands tightened again, and I felt him exhale slowly, as if he were trying to steady himself. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and measured, almost a whisper.
“Ellie,” he said, his tone softer now, “maybe try to sit still, huh? you are doing… things to me.”
The idea of backseat sex with others in the vehicle was suddenly intriguing and exciting. And truth be told, maybe even more so because it was my grandfather back there with me, not to mention my mother up front.
So perhaps it wasn’t surprising that my pussy betrayed me as it tingled when my grandpa’s dick, his seemingly big dick, pressed against my privates.
The next shock came when Mom swerved suddenly, causing my position to shift so that the pressure moved to my taint and the bottom of my gash and then Grandpa’s dick flinched. I couldn’t help but moan ever so slightly out of shock and pleasure.
“Sorry about that, you okay?” Mom asked, as she rolled up to a red light.
“Yeah,” I responded, as my grandpa’s dick flinched again. The first time I thought it was a coincidence but two in a row had me confused… and even more confusingly… turned on.
“Good, get comfy, according to the GPS we have a twenty-minute drive,” she said.
“Twenty minutes?” I asked, thinking it was a ten-minute drive, fifteen minutes max.
“Looks like construction,” she said. “Probably going to be some bumpy roads and single lanes.”
When Grandpa’s cock flinched beneath me again, pulsed like some large snake getting ready to uncoil, I thought this time it couldn’t be an accident.
“Okay,” I said, getting turned on by this surreal situation. I mean my grandpa was a good-looking man still, a silver fox one of my friends had said after declaring he was hot. And I did find older men attractive, having fucked one of my friend’s dads who really gave me the fuck of my life and treated me like a whore (which I didn’t know I liked until he called me names and just plain used me). But Grandpa was in his eighties and well… my grandpa. And while I may be a bit of a kinky girl, incest seemed a whole other level of kink with far more serious repercussions.
As if some incestuous Cupid was stirring the pot, we suddenly hit a bump on the road and his cock pressed right against my pussy as his hands on my hips held me in place, making me moan again.
“Sorry,” Mom said, “I didn’t see that bump.”
“All good,” Grandpa said, his dick again flinching directly on my increasingly wet pussy. Was I going to leave a wet spot on his Santa suit?
“Yeah, it just startled me,” I said, although I was referring to Grandpa’s raging hard-on pressed against my pussy… only his Santa suit preventing something really inappropriate from happening.
“I’ll try to be more alert,” Mom said, “but I gotta warn you, the road ahead looks a little rough.”
“We can handle it,” Grandpa said, as he again flinched his dick and gave my hips a squeeze.
Shockingly turned on, and my naughty persona coming out, I decided two could play this game. If he was going to tease me, I would tease him.
“I’d better get a grip then,” I said and grabbed the roof handle above the door with my left hand and put my right on the corner of Mom’s seat back. With this leverage, I moved my hips back and forth to feel his dick rubbing my pussy, although as I teased him, I realized I also teased myself… I had to bite my lip to control another unexplainable moan.
Grandpa responded with three rhythmic cock throbs right against my pussy.
Not to be outdone and not thinking logically as my pussy burned, I responded in sexual Morse code by grinding my pussy back and forth on his crotch three times.
This time he groaned slightly, but not loud enough for Mom to hear over the radio that was playing ‘Summer of 69’. I realized she’d tuned into a classic rock station that was playing songs from Grandpa’s young days.
My sweet grandpa, who had apparently grown crazy horny after living alone for two-and-a-half years since Grandma passed, upped the ante, apparently taking my playful teases as real signals of permission, and moved both his hands to my nylon-clad legs.
When I didn’t move his hands away, giving non-verbal permission, he slowly began to caress my legs… any chance of all this being innocent coincidences fading as his hands slowly moved up my thighs and under my skirt.
So, turned on, even though he was my grandfather, I moved my left leg over his, which spread my thighs apart, inviting him to continue his inappropriate meandering under my suddenly rather conveniently short outfit.
His cock flinched again as his hands began ever so slowly rolling my skirt in on itself. I looked up in sudden panic but realized that Mom couldn’t even see my face in the rear-view mirror if I didn’t lean over to the right, and because we were directly behind her, she certainly couldn’t see what was going on in our laps. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe I was allowing it to happen. I couldn’t believe I was getting so turned on. I seriously was wanting his hand to touch my pussy as I spread my legs even a little bit further in clear invitation.
As we rolled to another red light, Mom said, “You two are pretty quiet back there, you still doing okay?”
“Yes, sweetheart, we’re doing fine,” Grandpa spoke for just the second time, even as his fingers exposed the gusset of my pantyhose, putting him ever closer to my needy pussy.
“Yes, Mom, doing just fine,” I agreed, trying to communicate to Grandpa that I was good with what was occurring behind my mother. “It’s much more comfortable than I expected. Just relaxing and taking in the scenery, I guess.”
“That’s good,” she said, as she started driving again. Grandpa indeed took my response as formal permission to really cross the line, and his right hand swept across the front of my crotch, quickly finding the open hole in my last line of defense. He took his left hand and lifted it up to my left breast and squeezed. Looking at the rear-view mirror again, I realized that Mom really couldn’t see what was going on on the left side. Grandpa used his strong grip on my tit to pull me back against him. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he took control.
Although I was so young, I’d always been strong-willed and that had continued right into my first sexual encounter as an adult. I’d racked up a number of encounters since then (some might say a shocking number, I prefer a confident number) and had always been in control during sex (except, of course, for that whole whore-to-my-friend’s-dad episode). Now, however, I was completely under Grandpa’s spell as his fingers rubbed my clit after finding the suddenly really convenient hole in the pantyhose. After a few seconds he moved a finger directly to my pussy lips, their juicy wetness making it very clear what I thought about my own grandfather molesting me.
I desperately tried not to moan and alert Mom to the incestuous act taking place right behind her as Grandpa began to finger me. Alternating between opening me up with his fingertips and using a fresh coating of my slime as lube for rubbing my throbbing clit, Grandpa showed digital skills I’d never felt under another man’s hands.
He was having trouble getting deeper, though, because of our position and my pantyhose gusset and it was getting frustrating for both of us. His tit-squeezing hand moved to my crotch, and he gave a loud stage cough off to the side to cover the sound of nylon ripping. I almost came right then. Instead, I began swiveling my hips to grind harder against his cock and try to help his fingers fuck me even deeper. Unfortunately, it only seemed to be making me crazier in frustration and I let out a little whine.
“Still good back there?” Mom asked, as my noise came out just as a song finished playing and commercials came on.
“Fine,” I said. “I think Grandpa and I are just finding it hard to get in a comfortable position.” I thrust again at his fingers to let him know I was enjoying this but was a little frustrated by the lack of more penetration.
“Yeah, maybe we need to adjust positions,” he suggested, pulling his finger out and moving his hands to my hips.
“Should I pull over?” Mom asked, just as Grandpa lifted me off his crotch and gently pushed me to his right and forward, so my head suddenly stuck between the two front seats, causing Mom to twist her head and look at me in surprise. I gave the best shrug I could while grabbing the corners of the seatbacks and putting pressure on my right foot on the floor as I strained to hold my butt up off Grandpa’s lap.
“No, no no,” Grandpa said, almost sounding like ho, ho, ho. “The kids are counting on us; we can’t be late. How much time do we have left?”
Bizarrely, this irked me. Not the not stopping, I knew that was a bad idea. But the fact Grandpa seemed more concerned with the little kids who’d soon be sitting on his jolly Santa lap rather than the grown granddaughter sitting on his horny Grandpa lap.
“Yeah, still says fourteen minutes,” Mom informed us.
“Don’t speed or anything,” Grandpa said, “just get us there safe and in one piece. Oh and take as long as you need right Ellie.”
Will do,” Mom said, smiling crookedly at me in my predicament.
“Umm, Grandpa…?” I said, really wanting to get out of this awkward position and back on his lap. Although now that I was all twisted and didn’t have his fingers inside me, my mind was clearing and my common sense returning, reminding me just how wrong this was.
I didn’t have time to put more thought into this before Grandpa announced, “Okay, I’ve readjusted myself; I think we’ll both be more comfortable now.”
Pressing on the seatbacks, I twisted and looked back to find that his ‘adjustment’ had been to pull his cock… his big, fat, hard cock out of his fly. It was poking up obscenely and it appeared he’d laid a white handkerchief around it, like some kind of napkin. My eyes went wide and then his hands were on my hips, pulling me back towards him and onto his amazing-looking dick.
I couldn’t help but let out a moan as his fat knob split the lips of my soaking wet pussy.
I expected Mom to say something, but fortunately, she’d turned the radio up to listen to the news that had just begun. My moral reasoning faded as quickly as it had come as I dropped my pussy completely onto Grandpa’s dick, easily the biggest I had ever seen in person, let alone had inside me. My ass cheeks resting on his old sack.
Grandpa whispered in my ear, “Ride me, baby girl.”
He had always called me, ‘baby girl’ and Mom, ‘sweetheart’, but hearing him say it in this completely inappropriate situation enhanced the fire already burning inside me.
“Yes, Grandpa,” I whispered back, as I moved my hands to the top of Mom’s seat and began slowly riding him.
Grandpa caressed my back as I quietly moved up and down on his dick.
When Mom suddenly reached up and twisted the rearview mirror toward us, I froze with her father’s cock buried in me to his balls. “Were you guys able to get comfortable?”
“Oh, yeah,” I smiled. “This position is way more comfortable.”
“Good, I was worried it would be an awkward ride,” Mom said.
“Actually, it’s been a surprisingly smooth ride so far,” Grandpa said, obviously able to see Mom’s eyes in the mirror just as I was. I was starting to wonder about the twinkle in her eyes, when her father began pulsing his fat cock inside of me and all my thoughts returned to my pussy.
“Well, except that bump,” Mom joked, finally adjusting the mirror back into place so she couldn’t see our faces.
“Yes, except that bump,” I agreed, biting my lip as Grandpa fucked me with short, upward thrusts. It wasn’t a hard pounding like I would have liked, but the fact we were doing it in the backseat with Mom inches from us and oh, by the way, committing incest, fueled my libido so that it was still an intensely pleasurable experience.
“How far now?” Grandpa asked.
“Ten minutes,” Mom said.
“Good, good,” he said, as he continued slow, smooth pumps in his granddaughter’s pussy.
Wanting it faster, wanting it deeper, I kept my hands firmly on the chair and began to move back to meet his forward thrusts… as the pleasure inside of me consumed me.
Grandpa read my actions intuitively and began thrusting into me faster.
I bit my lip hard to stifle another moan as he gripped my hips and guided me up and down his shaft with surprising strength for an octogenarian, filling me completely. My pussy squeezed around his girth in a mix of surprise and unbridled desire. The sensation was indescribable—the taboo act with him controlling our rhythm while Mom chatted on obliviously just feet away.
“Longer route might be better,” he suggested casually to Mom as we eased into the rougher side streets she’d mentioned earlier. His tone was steady, but his thrusts from below weren’t; they were calculated, each one stirring my insides with a precision that belied age.
Mom nodded without turning back, “Sure thing, Dad. We’ll take the scenic route.”
The ‘scenic’ turned out to be a series of bumps and dips that made every thrust more intense as I rode Grandpa’s dick. With each lurch of the car, he plunged deeper inside me; I felt his cock churn up my guts like a relentless force spreading open every inch of my tight cunt. Frustrated whimpers escaped me as discreetly as possible while he hammered relentlessly into me.
“Hmm,” Grandpa murmured against my earlobe between grunts. “You feel incredible… this tight pussy wrapped so perfectly around Santa’s present.” The combination of dirty talk and nickname triggered something primal—my resolve melted further at every filthy word.
“Oh fuck,” slipped out before I could catch it—a muffled scream really—pressing my lips together lest Mom hear her daughter taking her father so obscenely well in the backseat.
“Yeah…that’s right,” he encouraged gruffly. Each plunge made me gasp louder than intended but somehow always masked by nature or radio noise.
My pussy felt really good as I rode his old dick, I still couldn’t believe my Grandpas dick was inside me shagging me.
A sharp turn had my tits jiggling uncontrollably, each bounce adding to the sensation of Grandpa’s relentless pounding. I could feel the fabric of Mom’s seatback rough against my palms, a stark contrast to the slick heat enveloping Grandpa’s throbbing dick inside me.
“Ellie?” Mom glanced back briefly, but her eyes were on the road. “You okay? You’re awfully quiet.”
“Ah, yeah, Mom,” I panted through clenched teeth. “Just… enjoying…the countryside.”
Grandpa stifled a chuckle that vibrated through his chest and into mine as he gripped my hips tighter, pulling me down with more force. “Don’t you worry about Ellie; she’s loving this scenic route as much as I am,” he managed smoothly despite his ragged breaths between moans.
I couldn’t help it anymore—the taboo thrill mixed with Grandpa’s skilled fucking had me teetering on an edge so sharp it was taking all my willpower not to cry out in raw ecstasy. His hands found their way back to my breasts, giving them firm squeezes that matched the rhythm of his hammering cock.
“You dirty girl,” Grandpa’s voice rasped out even as he whispered, “Taking your grandad’s cock like a champ.”
Grandpa took the initiative as he placed his hands under my ass cheeks and raised and dropped me to increase the impact of his pumping his big dick up inside of me. For a man in his eighties, he was thankfully still in amazing shape.
The taboo, kinky backseat fuck, with Grandpa bouncing me in his lap like a Raggedy Ann doll, had my orgasm rising and I wondered if I could somehow let go without announcing the ongoing taboo activity to my mother.
Before I could dare it, the Kiss song ended, and Mom turned down the volume. “Ha, ha,” she laughed, “I could feel you rocking out back there, aren’t the old classics great?”
‘Fucking great!’ I thought, thinking of Grandpa, but said, “Really great,” while trying not to moan as the wonderful old pervert continued pumping his cock in me.
“How much time do we have left?” Grandpa asked, sounding impressively casual while he committed incest.
“Under six minutes,” Mom answered, as the classic track ‘My Sharona’ began.
Wanting to bounce on Grandpa’s cock, desperate to come, I said, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt, “Turn it up, Mom.”
“You know this song?” she asked, sounding surprised, but turning it up.
“Of course,” I said, biting my lip as Grandpa put his hands on my hips.
Taking the wordless order, I began to move up and down on his huge dick. Yet, I couldn’t get into a rhythm where my hands were, so risking being caught, my libido leading the way, I placed both my hands on the top of Mom’s chair to get the leverage I needed to ride Grandpa’s dick to climax in under six minutes.
My feet firmly on the floor, my hands on the driver’s seat, I began to ride Grandpa smoothly… taking as much of his dick inside me as I could without actually bouncing on his lap which would likely be heard or felt by my mother.
Grandpa’s hands remained firmly on my hips for extra balance as I worked his dick over as best I could.
As the song went into its epic jam ending, I rode faster, almost timing my movements to the track as my orgasm approached its own peak.
Grandpa got there first, however, and I felt his hands squeeze my hips even tighter just before I felt that incomparable sensation of his fat cock pulsing in my vagina as his hot cum bathed my insides. When that was paired with him biting into my shoulder in a mostly unsuccessful effort to muffle his animal grunt, my own orgasm blasted loose, sending my body shaking… shakes that travelled straight into Mom’s seat.
“What’s going on back there?” Mom asked, as I pressed my cheek hard against her chair, trying to stay upright through the intensity of my orgasm.
“Leg cramp, just repositioning myself,” I lied in my own grunt, as I just tried to enjoy the pulsating pleasure cascading through me.
“Oh? sure” Mom asked, her tone odd.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, quite spent from the fucking and the awkward position and not wanting to have to talk.
Blessedly, Mom said nothing more for the next minute or so, allowing me to relish the call and response of my and Grandpa’s bodies, which kept sending out pulses and quivers through our joined sexes. Then I felt the car stopping as she hit the next red light. I peeked up over the corner of her seat and saw her again twisting the rearview to look at us. She wore a wicked smile, and her eyes positively glowed with mischief.
“So, Dad,” she cooed, “did you enjoy your early Christmas present?”
“Yes, it’s exactly what I wanted beautiful pussy like yours,” Grandpa responded, as he reached around my body and pulled me back against his chest with his chin on my shoulder, so we were almost cheek-to-cheek as Mom stared at us in the mirror. Of course, his cock was still buried deep inside me, and I couldn’t hold back the moan the movement pulled from me, even as I tried to process the strange question Mom had asked and Grandpa’s equally strange response.
“And how about you, Ellie,” Mom continued, locking her eyes on mine, “did you like getting fucked by Grandpa?”
“What?” I asked. “You knew?” Well, of course she did, but it was still the best response I could offer, shocked as I was by her question, her use of the ‘f-word’ and the realization that she didn’t seem at all bothered by the fact that her father had just fucked her daughter.
“Of course,” she said, with that wicked smile across her face, “I planned it.”
“You what?” I asked, hearing her but not believing what I was hearing.
“Grandpa has wanted to fuck you since you turned legal and well, you know I’m a Daddy’s girl,” Mom said, as someone honked at us… clearly the light had turned green.
“I don’t even know…” I began, so completely confused.
As Mom turned her attention back to the road, Grandpa hugged me and soothed, “It’s okay, baby girl, everything is good. Your mama knows what you’re going through, she’s ridden my hog leg many times.”
I sat silent for a moment as I continued hearing words that I couldn’t really process. Then I gasped, “Jesus, you and Mom?”
His only response was a soft, “Mmm hmm,” in my ear.
“You mean, since Daddy left and Grandma passed, you’ve been…comforting each other?”
They both laughed, Grandpa gently, Mom a bit harshly.
“No, baby girl,” Grandpa said, “for much longer than that. In fact, your mother has taken many backseat rides just like this since she turned eighteen.”
“And let me tell you,” added Mom, “even in his eighties in the backseat of a car, your grandfather is a better fuck than your father ever was.”
“Although, it is true,” said Grandpa, “that it has been a lot more often since I lost your sweet grandmother.” Then his voice changed, going from sad to randy. “Yes, my little slut daughter has been a true comfort to her horny old dad.”
My mind was still struggling, but I tried to use words to make it come into focus. “So, all the visits you make to Grandpa’s during the week, you two are fucking?”
“All the time,” Mom answered with no shame at all.
I went silent again, really struggling with this apparent new truth, which was the polar opposite of my own mental picture of my mom. I mean, my mother didn’t date much, always dressed modestly, and seemed hell-bent on keeping me ‘safe’ from boys. But she was Grandpa’s ‘slut daughter’ and fucked him ‘all the time’?
“Wow,” I finally said. “I can hardly believe what I’m hearing.”
Mom’s response just went further to dismantle her image of sweet and innocent. “Well, do you believe that you have my father’s giant cock buried inside you?” she asked. “Do you believe that you just came so hard from riding that cock that you nearly tore my seat loose from the floor?”
No, there was no denying either of those things, especially as I registered that Grandpa’s cock, while softer, was still filling me quite nicely. And I believed that when he pulled that cork out, a flood of his jizz was going to come running out of me. “I believe,” I said softly.
“So,” Grandpa asked, “now that you know what goes on in our family and have experienced the pleasure of it yourself, would you like to join me and your mother the way that she joined me and your grandmother?”
A sudden lightening of pressure in my chest made me realize they’d just answered a question I hadn’t known was waiting in the shadows to ambush me: Had they been sickly sneaking around behind my beloved grandmother’s back? Apparently not. “You mean, Grandma knew about you two… knew and took part?”
“Took part?” laughed Mom. “She got to my young pussy even before Dad. And when I spread my legs now to take his big dick or any of the many others always eager to fuck me, I always do my best to live up to her example and leave them crawling out of the bedroom drained.”
Grandpa shifted his hold on me until he was squeezing both my tits, then he repeated his question. “Would you like to be the next generation of family slut to join my bed?”
The question was wild. The truth was wild. Yet, the fact I had just, secretly I thought, fucked my grandpa in the backseat of the car with my presumably prim and proper mother right in front of us in the driver’s seat already made the answer pretty easy. It had been, without a doubt, the best fuck of my life and I couldn’t even begin to imagine how good it would be when he could really fuck me or I could really ride his cock.
So, after briefly processing my shocking family secret, I answered, “I’d love to be your new granddaughter slut, Grandpa.”
“It also means being my slut,” Mom said, as she pulled into the hospital parking lot.
“What?” I asked.
“Just like I was my mom’s pussy pet, you will now be mine,” Mom said, driving quite some way before pulling to a stop.
“You ate Grandma?” I asked, continuing to be overwhelmed with shock.
“Until just days before she died,” Mom said.
“Your grandma would have loved to live to see you turn old enough to service her,” Grandpa said, his tone again tinged with melancholy.
“I’d have loved to service her,” I said, my grandma was the kindest soul I ever met and the idea she was part of a secret incestuous world was a surreal turn-on and almost impossible to believe.
“Her cunt was delicious,” Mom said, using a word she had bluntly told me she hated when she’d heard me once use it nonchalantly.
“Your mother’s is too,” Grandpa said to me, and I saw Mom flash him a broad smile in the rearview before she got out of the car.
“This is all true?” I asked, although I wasn’t really asking.
“It is, honey,” he said, “it’s a tradition in our family going back generations.”
Mom opened the back door and helped me up and off her dad. Standing up, I only then realized she’d parked us in a far back corner of the lot, many rows away from any other cars; we’d have to carry all the gifts way farther than made sense.
She then did make sense out of our remote location by moving past me and leaning in through the open door, which was on the side away from the hospital, then bending down and sucking my juices off her dad’s cock, even as his cum oozed out of me.
“Mom, you cock slut,” I said in awe, finding this all so wickedly hot.
“I can never get enough of Daddy’s dick,” she said when she stood back up. I noticed she’d collected the handkerchief Grandpa had wrapped around the base of his cock, apparently to prevent our juices from staining his Santa suit. “And you taste so good on his dick,” Mom added while wiping daintily at the corner of her wet lips.
My regular dominant nature began to assert itself. “I bet I do,” I said. “But I’m told I taste even better directly from the source.”
“Ooh, I bet that’s true,” she purred. “Especially with your grandpa’s spunk in your sweet, teen cunt.”
“Oh, I bet you’d love to eat this cream pie,” I said, already imagining Mom on her knees eating me.
She arched an eyebrow at me. “Just so you know,” she said, “once we are done with this charity event I am sitting on your face while Daddy really fucks you.”
“You know, I’m usually the receiver not the giver in lesbian encounters,” I said, as Grandpa got out of the car after putting his dick away. He fluffed up the velvet where I had compressed it in his crotch area.
“Yeah, Mary, right?” she asked.
“Maybe,” I stalled, really having thought I’d been successful in masking what was really going on the many times Mary was over for ‘study sessions’.
“Yes, she is one fine rug muncher,” Mom said.
“You have used Mary?” I questioned, one more shocking revelation.
“A couple of times,” Mom said with a sly smile before she added, “although she prefers when I use my strap-on in her sweet pussy.”
“You have a strap-on?”
“I have a few,” she said.
“Jesus,” I said, shaking my head, shock after shock after shock continuing to change my life.
Mom went back into the car and reached across to retrieve a bag from the floor behind the front passenger seat. “Here,” she said, handing it to me. “Change into these.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Green hose that don’t have a hole in them, and matching green undies – we never bring our kinks in among the children,” Mom explained with a wink. It had all been a setup I realized, the overpacked car, the hole in the pantyhose, even relying on me to go commando. But it was also good to know that there were limits to their behaviour; entertaining the children was completely separate and separated from the family fun.
“Where should I…?” I asked, looking around.
Mom simply spread her arms, also looking around us, then raised an eyebrow at me.
‘Wow, this sneaky mother of mine is really good at this,’ I thought. At the far edge of the parking lot with forest behind me and the car in front of me, no one would see me change my pantyhose. Except for my mother and grandfather, of course, and his cum was dripping out of me, while she planned on cumming on my face in a few hours. What was there to hide from them?
Then Mom looked at her slim wristwatch and said, “Hey, we actually made good time getting here, so you can take your time, make sure everything goes on right.”
Mom returned to Grandpa and gave him a big, sloppy kiss before leaning into him so they could both watch me strip off. What the hell, may as well go with the flow, it had certainly worked out so far. After toeing off my soft elf boots, I made a big production of pulling up my short skirt to examine the damage to my hose and expose my abused pussy to my voyeurs. Then something struck me.
“Hey,” I said, flouncing my short green skirt at them. “How long have you been playing Santa’s elf?” I asked my mother.
“Going on twenty-five years now,” she said. “Although you know it’s not me every year, we rotate turns getting to serve Santa.”
“And how often do you end up with a hole in your pantyhose?”
“Oh, by the end of the night? Every year,” she grinned.
“And the other elves?”
“Every year,” Mom repeated, eyes gleaming.
So, Grandpa had a harem. Or did he? “And you, Grandpa, how long have you been playing Santa?”
“Oh, I took over about seventeen years ago, you know it’s a long family tradition.” He didn’t say, Ho, ho, ho, but I still sensed it.
“And before you?” I asked.
“My grandpa,” my mother answered. “Only he swapped every year with his brother, my Uncle Roger.”
My head was starting to spin again with where this was heading, so I paused a moment to get on with the task at hand – changing my pantyhose. Grandpa had really torn into the nylons and between the two of us, the hose, my crotch, and my thighs were absolutely soaked in that heady mixture of man- and lady-juice. I seriously thought about asking Mom to take a picture with her phone, how good would this look blown up to poster size for my bedroom wall?
I found myself squeezing my labia together, causing a large bead of semen to start dangling out of me like it was on a spiderweb. “So, this is what each Christmas looks like when you’re Santa’s little helper?”
“Oh, baby, we’re all Santa’s little helpers, whether we go to the fundraiser or not,” said my mother of the never-ending surprises. “So, by the end of the family Christmas party, we all look like that.” I swore I could hear her drooling at the thought.
Then she brought me back to the present when she said, “There are also wet wipes and panty liners in the bag, make sure to give yourself a good clean. While that’s my favourite scent for my bedroom…”
I suspected it would also be a great improvement over the normal smell of a hospital ward, but I took her point and after stripping off the ruined hosiery, I used several of the wet wipes to slowly clean myself. My audience seemed to appreciate my attention to hygiene because I noticed that Mom’s hand was down in Grandpa’s Santa pants and his had unbuttoned a few buttons at crotch-level of her Mrs. Claus gown and was also out of sight.
As I pulled on the green granny panties and tucked a panty liner into the crotch to catch whatever remained of Grandpa’s seed, it brought another question to mind.
“So, while Santa clearly has some Christmas magic going on in his jingle balls, there are a lot of girl cousins and aunts in the family—”
“Don’t forget wives,” Mom offered.
“And wives,” I added. “Does Santa create all this mess all by himself?”
“Ho, ho, ho, don’t I wish,” laughed Grandpa. “No, not all of Santa’s little helpers are female. When you accept your role as the newest elf, you’ll be getting a lot more male attention than just me.”
“Although,” Mom said firmly, “your grandpa always comes first as the family patriarch, not to mention having the biggest, most delicious dick.”
“And Ellie?” my grandfather continued. “While we certainly have Christmas on the mind right now, just like the elves are making toys all year round, you can expect our family love to also continue all year round.”
And there it was. I was to be bottom slut to multiple adult family members, male and female, and it was year-round. I thought about putting in another panty liner because I was ready to gush again at the mere thought of a constant string of horny family members and in-laws lining up to tap me.
Mom looked at her watch again, but this time frowned. “We really do need to get moving,” she said with a sorrowful look as I pulled up my green hose and covered my panties. No sheer pantyhose this time, but real, heavy duty Peter Pan tights; very appropriate for a family activity.
As I stashed the ripped hose in the bag, Mom said, “I’m going to pull the car closer so we can bring in all the supplies and gifts. You and Dad should walk over; he probably needs to work the kinks out of his thighs before the little kids start climbing aboard.”
I tossed the bag onto the floor behind Mom’s seat and closed the rear door. As she pulled away, Grandpa took my arm in his and we strolled through the large parking lot.
“So, baby girl, what do you think?” he asked me.
“I think I may have passed into an alternate dimension,” I joked. “I can’t believe all this has been going on around me for eighteen years and I never knew.”
“We’re very serious about that,” he said. “There is no grooming or any of that. Adults are told the truth and allowed to choose as they see fit. While we will dominate you, no one is truly forced or coerced.”
“So, I could just say, no, I’d rather not?”
“You could,” he confirmed, then he chuckled. “But I don’t think you will.”
“You really think it’s okay for me to be the incestuous slut to all the menfolk in our family?” I made my voice stern, while inside I was screaming, ‘Please, please, pretty please!’
“I think your grandmother and mother and others have found it to be wonderfully exciting and fulfilling. And after this little test ride, I’d say the same will be true for you.”
“Test ride?”
“Of course,” he replied. “When a young person is coming of age, we like to give them some sort of test to see where they are sexually; the backseat lap ride is a classic. You could have pulled away from me or asked your mom to pull over so we could change things, but you were taking my pulse rate through my dick almost right away; you’re one of us.
“Let me ask you this,” he continued while I pondered my new situation. “Are you looking forward to riding my cock again under more comfortable circumstances?”
“Oh, God, yes,” I moaned, squeezing his arm tighter against me. “I can’t wait.”
“And your mother? Are you eager to taste that pussy?” Then he nodded his head forward and said, “I promise you it’s sweet and tangy.”
Looking up I saw we were coming up on Mom’s car, parked in the hospital lobby drop-off zone. She had the trunk lid up and was bent over, reaching for something far in the back. The Mrs. Claus gown wasn’t cut to enhance the character’s sensuality, but stretched as it was now over my mother’s mature, sexy ass, you could tell that Mrs. Claus had it going on. Suddenly I found myself quite looking forward to what Grandpa had proposed, but still…
“Grandpa,” I said, “I understand and appreciate tradition, especially family traditions that everyone still obviously enjoys. But are you open to change when change is good?”
“It’s never good to get stuck in a rut,” he replied. “Do you have something in mind already?”
“Well, Grandma clearly did a great job training Mom to be a pussy pet, so it seems a shame to toss all that experience aside, especially since it does seem to suit her sweet, supportive nature.”
From the corner of my eye I could see Grandpa looking down at me, one corner of his mouth up in a wry smile. “And how do you propose we deal with things?”
While I was looking forward to being an incestuous slut to the men of the family, in the hierarchy of the women I was thinking it was time for a revolution… with the young taking charge. And I knew where the change should start.
What I said to Grandpa…Santa…our incestuous family patriarch was, “I’d think a well-trained pet like that just aches to serve every day, but with no husband or son in our house to fulfill those desires, I bet she’d love to be my Mommy-pet.”
Grandpa chuckled deep in his throat. “Oh, yeah, you are definitely one of us,” he said before reaching down to give my little elf butt a firm squeeze.
Oh, yeah, this was going to be a holiday season to remember.
The End…