March 20, 2017. Los Angeles, United States.
That pale, wrinkled ass wouldn't stop slamming against my pelvis. My thick cock plunged deep into her well-used cunt, a warm, loose hole that had been fucked by thousands of men throughout her sixty-three years of life. I grabbed her soft, flabby ass cheeks with both hands, squeezing hard as I groaned.
"Fuck… So this is what it feels like to fuck a 63-year-old woman… It's fucking spectacular."
You heard that right, readers. I was balls-deep inside a married 63-year-old grandmother, in her own marital bed, while her husband's photo lay face-down on the nightstand. Mrs. Cooper was moaning like a bitch in heat, her face buried in the pillow and her massive fat ass raised high for me.
You're probably wondering who this disgusting young pervert is, fucking a woman old enough to be his grandmother. Well, first of all, the real disgusting one is the author writing my story… but anyway. Let me introduce myself: I'm Luke McQuoid, a 27-year-old Canadian guy. Ever since I hit puberty and figured out my sexuality, I knew I was different. I have a massive GILF fetish. It all started back in fifth grade at my grandparents' house. That was the first time I saw a naked woman — my own grandmother stepping out of the bathtub. I still remember those big, sagging, wrinkled tits and that thick gray bush that looked like a snowy forest. From that day on, women my age or younger left me completely limp. Only old ladies could get my cock rock hard.
And right now, I was living out my filthiest fantasy with my neighbor, Mrs. Cooper.
I had seduced her easily with the excuse of helping her with the garden plants. One hour later, I had her on all fours on her bed, pounding her like a cheap whore.
Mrs. Cooper was moaning uncontrollably, her voice shaky and desperate: "S-slower, sonny… please… this old lady isn't thirty anymore… Ahh! You're going to break me!"
But I ignored her. I gripped her wide, fat hips and slammed into her even harder, making her enormous ass ripple and clap loudly with every thrust.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
"Fuck, Mrs. Cooper… you move that ass so well," I growled, slapping one of her soft cheeks hard, watching the flesh jiggle. "No wonder you were a famous burlesque dancer back in the day. That fat ass still knows how to work a cock."
"AHNNN! Oh god… too deep! Mmmhh… my old pussy can't take it!" she cried out, her wrinkled hands clutching the sheets tightly.
Her cunt, though loose and well-stretched from decades of use, was still surprisingly hot and wet. Every time I buried my cock to the hilt, I could feel her soft walls clinging to me.
I picked up speed, fucking her brutally. The bed creaked violently under us. Her heavy, sagging tits swung wildly like pendulums beneath her body.
I leaned forward, grabbed a fistful of her gray hair and yanked her head back while growling into her ear: "Tell me you love getting fucked like a cheap slut by a young man, Mrs. Cooper."
"YES! AHNNN! I love your big young cock! Fuck me harder… please!" she moaned shamelessly, completely lost in lust.
I couldn't hold back any longer. Ten intense minutes was already a lot for a granny her age. My balls tightened as the orgasm rushed up.
"I'm gonna cum… Fuck, I'm cumming inside you!"
Mrs. Cooper let out a long, broken moan as I exploded. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded her used cunt, pumping deep into her womb.
SPURT! SPURT! SPURT! SPURT!
"AAHHHHNNN!!! It's so hot… you're filling me up!" she screamed, her whole body shaking as I kept thrusting through my orgasm, making sure every drop stayed buried inside the old woman.
PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!
I was still balls-deep, panting, my cock twitching inside her cum-filled pussy, when the bedroom door suddenly burst open with a loud bang.
Mr. Cooper, her husband, stormed in like a mad bull, an old Vietnam War rifle in his hands.
Mrs. Cooper screamed in terror: "STAN!"
But he didn't say a single word. He just cocked the rifle with a sharp metallic click and aimed it straight at my head.
"Run out the window, Luke!" she shouted desperately.
I didn't think twice. I jumped off the bed, my cock still dripping with cum and her juices, and sprinted toward the window. I barely made it three steps before I heard the deafening roar of the gunshot.
The bullet hit me square in the back of the head.
________________________
Suddenly, I woke up as if it had all been a dream.
I was lying on the cold wooden floor of an old cabin, my head throbbing with a dull pain. I looked at my hands… and they weren't mine. They were bigger, rough, calloused, and covered in old scars. My tattoos were gone.
I sat up slowly and looked around. The cabin was a simple Viking longhouse that had just been raided. Broken furniture, overturned tables, shattered pottery, and blood splattered across the walls. The air smelled of smoke, iron, and death.
In front of me lay two corpses.
A man, decapitated, his head a few feet away with eyes still open in terror. And a woman… with a sword buried deep in her swollen belly. She looked heavily pregnant.
A sharp pain stabbed through my skull. Strange memories flooded my mind, not mine, but clear as day.
This wasn't my body.
I had reincarnated into the body of an 8-year-old boy in the Christian village of Lindisfarne — a peaceful little island settlement. These two dead people were my new parents. Before the Vikings reached our cabin, they had forced poison down my throat so I wouldn't suffer being raped or slaughtered. The boy's soul had died… but mine had taken its place.
The Vikings had burst in, killed my father, raped my mother, and then killed her too. When they saw my small body already cold on the floor, they simply ignored it, looted everything, and left.
I dragged myself to a broken piece of reflective glass and stared at my new face.
White hair. Blood-red eyes. I was only eight years old.
Before I could process it all, the door of the cabin burst open violently.
A large group of armed Vikings stormed inside, axes and swords in hand. They froze when they saw me. No one moved. No one attacked.
Then, a tall, powerfully built man in his mid-twenties stepped forward. He had long white hair tied in a thick Viking braid down his back, and the same crimson eyes as mine. Behind him appeared a stunning woman with long blue hair and piercing green eyes. She had massive, heavy breasts that strained against her leather armor and an enormous, round ass that swayed with every step.
Both of them looked me up and down.
The white-haired man pointed at me and asked one of his subordinates in a deep, commanding voice: "Is this the boy?"
"Yes, my chief," the man replied. "He looks just like you… like the great Ragnar."
The man studied me again, then turned to the blue-haired woman.
"What do you think, Lys?"
Lys smirked, her green eyes gleaming as she scanned my small frame.
"He's perfect. He could be the new heir of the clan."
The man nodded, then raised his voice so every Viking in the cabin could hear: "Listen up, you bastards! I am Ragnar Olafsson! From this day forward, this Christian boy will be known as Asvald Ragnarsson — my son and the future heir of Vestfjorden! Understood?"
All the Vikings roared in unison, raising their weapons high:
"YES, MY CHIEF!"
After that, Ragnar and Lys turned and left without another word.
One of the warriors grabbed me roughly, tying my small wrists with thick rope. I didn't resist. It would have been pointless.
He threw me over his broad shoulder like a sack of grain and carried me out of the cabin.
The sight that greeted me was pure chaos.
The peaceful village of Lindisfarne was burning. Flames rose from every house. Men were being slaughtered in the streets. Women were being bent over, stripped, and brutally fucked by laughing Vikings — some screaming, some already broken and moaning like whores.
I looked at the carnage with a twisted smile growing inside me.
'This world has no laws…'
My inner smile widened.
'Maybe in this lawless world… I can finally fuck all the GILFs I want.'