Brittiany St. John Grammy1965

Brittiany St. John Grammy1965

 

Grammy Sucks Cock

Extremely Well!

 

R.R. Ryan

 

© Copyright 2025 by R.R. Ryan

 

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic, sexual nature. This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

Brittiany St. John Grammy1965

Last November, Anywhere, USA

 

The cam show began. Her bare, soft thighs filled the frame. A hand swept over them, pushing up the hem of her tight dress. The chat room exploded with comments and emojis. Cash gifts chimed in one after another.

 

When they did, she pursed her full lips at the camera and winked. Lowering the strap of her dress, and the other, her cleavage popped out, enormous and exposed. I tried to keep myself from getting hard. After a full year of subscribing to her channel, I should have been used to it by now. But every time she got on cam, the same thrill as a game day rush, when I sack the quarterback.

 

For certain, it wasn’t the curves of her 57-year-old body or how she moved like a girl in her 20s. No, she’s my grandmother. Grammy1965 to her online fans. But Brittiany St. John to me.

 

My real name was Rhett St. John. The truth, I’m 19 and in love with my grandmother. All my life, I’d called her Grammy. A stunning woman in her late 50s. The same way other guys my age thought about girlfriends, I obsessed about her nonstop. Let’s be honest, she wasn’t like most grandmothers.

 

That’s for sure.

 

But the weirdest part was how it all started. A year ago, one of the guys on the team sent a link to a cam channel. An older woman, a hot chick, in a mask. Her curves seemed familiar. Unable to believe my eyes, I watched the whole show. By the end, I understood. The hot chick, somehow, some way, Grammy, my grandmother.

 

Every one of her massive number of devoted followers, the same as me. She was more popular than most cam-women half her age. And I got it. After all, she got a body that wouldn’t quit, and the face of a porn star. She went by Grammy1965 and never mentioned her real name.

 

Setting up a fake account, I followed her. At first, it made me sick. But the more I followed her, the more I wanted to view her performances. I had never gone private with her on the channel. Both afraid she would know it was me and that she wouldn’t. But I’d been the best tipper I could be. Now it’s Friday night, and I couldn’t resist any longer.

 

Holding the belief, she did the cam work to stay busy, but I recognized the truth. My grandfather had been dead for years. That was why she was doing the cam stuff. With how successful she was, Grammy didn’t need my money. But I planned to give her something to keep busy with when I moved in. The timer counted down to the show’s start.

 

The waiting seemed the same as the last quarter of a game with no timeouts left. Both heartbreaking, slow, and still far too fast. The thing wasn’t that I loved Grammy. It was that I needed her in ways no one should need their grandmother. We were family, but every time I got on her channel, my dick didn’t care.

 

Sometimes Grammy was modest on cam, never showed her whole body. On other nights, not so shy, she showed quite a lot. But not everything—well, sometimes, everything. Rarely, because she wasn’t a whore. However, she went all out that night. I was determined to buy time and be private with her on the channel.

 

That night, I wasn’t about to let anyone else beat me to it. I couldn’t believe what a pro she was. She had been on cam for five minutes and made more than some girls did in a week. After my last game of the season, I was hyped up and needed to get off before I exploded. Watching her turned into an addiction I couldn’t quit. While I played outstanding defense on the field. With Grammy, I had zero self-defense.

 

The transfer from my local junior college to a university practically next door to Grammy. Including a partial ride scholarship for football, I’d be moving there at the beginning of the year. Being near her and able to visit her weekly sent me over the moon.

 

Once again, I peered at her, the way her curves filled the screen. Barely able to stand how much I wanted her. Fuck the dorm, I wanted to live with her and go to school there.

 

Okay, enough, I’d think about school some other time.

 

When I was a kid, she was sexy, but she was so much hotter now. Framing her gorgeous face, long white hair cascaded to her shoulders. She never used to wear it loose. Every night, I dreamed of being with her. Even when I tried not to. Because she was family, she was better than porn.

 

Then I wondered what my friends would think if they knew I tuned in while Grammy got off. It made me hard and embarrassed to think about it. The Friday night air was cool, but I sweated in my bedroom. Sitting on my bed with my laptop opened, a soda, and I tried to relax. The thought of her soft, warm skin crept in again. With her green eyes peering from behind a lace mask. The way she understood exactly how to make guys cum in seconds. She was a fucking genius at being sexy.

 

Never should’ve started this thing. Now I couldn’t stop.

 

A mother of two, Brittiany St. John, age 57, grandmother of one, a cam whore extraordinaire. A goddess, my dream girl. The fanbase of her channel was insane. Those other people made me so jealous. They thought they were close to her, but I was closer. They gave her money, but I gave her something none of them could.

 

Love.

 

With my heart racing, I spent hours on the site, jacking off until my cock turned pink, sore, and my balls were empty. Grammy got more tips than I thought possible, and she deserved them all. She made a living from her brand, but I was going to change that. I waited for her latest show to start, ready for more of what I shouldn’t.

When school let out, I planned to surprise her and show up in January. Papa had been gone a long time. Maybe long enough. Grammy said she loved him, but she was good at moving on. Believe me, I’d seen it on her shows. The way she exposed herself. How she worked the dildo like a real dick. The way she seemed alone with you when the room was packed. When I was inside her house, I’d be inside her other places too. Already hard for her, I stroked the crotch of my shorts.

 

It was still early in the night, and Grammy had logged in. Right away, I sent the private show request. All the while, wondering what she’d do if she knew it was me. Questioning whether she’d be mad or if she’d suspected it all along. Staring at the screen, I sat there until she messaged back. ‘2am, hon.’ A winking emoji after it, and I about shot my load right there. Trying to hold out, I took a deep breath. But when she danced, teased, and touched herself, I almost came.

 

For all the world, I couldn’t get her body out of my mind. The full tits. How they bounced and filled up the screen. The shaved pussy that made her look young made her seem my age. I lay back on the bed and tried not to jack off too early. I should save it for when we went private.

 

But I couldn’t stop my hand from reaching into my shorts. The way she exposed herself got me closer to the edge. Trying not to go over it, I bit my lip. Holding my breath when she put her fingers inside herself and moaned. I couldn’t resist her, couldn’t help but think she was moaning for me.

Speculating if she knew, I wanted her to. She’d be shocked if she found out. But she mightn’t be. What if she expected it, desired it the same way I did? When we were alone together in the summer, I’d find out.

 

Is it possible we will have a different kind of relationship?

 

One where she showed me her real body, and I touched it whenever I wanted. And she would say dirty things to me, I’d say dirty words back. Stroking faster at the thought of her, I pondered those sharing. The anticipation of going private with her killed me.

 

Trying to keep my load in check, she fingered herself again, and I finally had to let it go. Thinking that my whole body would explode. Taking the washrag, I made a mess in it, closed my eyes, and held my breath. For a time, I forgot how to breathe.

 

Picturing her soft thighs in my hands, but I didn’t want to get hard again before 2am. Once again, it was impossible. It’s the same as scoring a touchdown when the other team thought they had you. The more I came, the more I wanted her. I put the laptop away and sat back against the wall. I glanced at the time.

 

Midnight. Only two more hours until we’re alone together. Hoping Grammy wouldn’t be upset if she sussed it out. Honest to Jesus, Grammy was the best cam girl on the internet. But I would make her better, happier. Thing was, I had what she needed, and soon she’d understand that.

 

Hard-on raging, again, I waited and checked the clock. My whole body was a muscle, tense and desperate for her. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I didn’t have to. January was a few weeks away.

 

She said she liked her freedom. Once she understood what I could give her, she’d like it more. I stared at the wall, thought about those thighs. I held out my hand it shook. 1am. A bead of sweat rolled down my temple. It would be an endless hour.

 

My face turned fiery. I bit my tongue and nearly fell out of my chair. The screen showed a kaleidoscope of confetti. It exploded into a gigantic yellow smiley face, and the words Grammy texted were, ‘We need to talk, young man. I’m not mad. I will arrange for your mother to send you here for Thanksgiving week.’ It seemed that Grammy was okay with it. I wondered if we could be lovers. I couldn’t sleep.

 

Finally, the numbers on the digital display turned from 1:59 to 2:00. With trembling fingers, I slipped the mask over my face, the odd sensation of the voice changer against my lips. I drew a shaky breath, trying to calm my racing heart. It was time.

 

The invite flashed on my screen, a gateway to forbidden pleasures. For a long moment, I hesitated, my cursor hovering over the accept button. Pulse thundering in my ears, I clicked. The screen went black for a few eternal seconds. I held my breath.

 

Without another second, she was there. Grammy. My grandmother, but not as I had ever seen her before. Her steel gray hair tumbled over her bare shoulders in tousled waves. Those familiar green eyes, like my own, smoldered with unfamiliar heat as she peered through the screen. Straining against my boxers, my cock twitched to attention.

 

“What’s with the mask, sweetheart?” Grammy asked, her lips curved in a knowing smile. Her voice was a smoky purr straight out of my most illicit fantasies.

 

“I’ll show you when I’m comfortable,” I replied, the voice changer transforming my words into a deep, unrecognizable rumble. Arousal surged through me, stoking my courage. I stood slowly, making sure the bulge in my shorts was clearly visible.

 

“But I can show you this…”

 

Grammy’s eyes widened and narrowed with pleasure as she took in the sight of my erection.

 

“Mmm, very nice, baby. Grammy likes.”

 

Holding my gaze, she reached for the straps of her silky camisole and slowly pushed them down her shoulders. The garment fell away, revealing her massive, heavy breasts. I sucked in a breath. Grammy cupped her tits, offering them up to the camera as if they were a gift for me to unwrap.

 

“You like Grammy’s enormous titties, don’t you, naughty boy?” she cooed, kneading the abundant flesh. Bullet stiff with arousal, her fingers found her nipples and pinched. As she tugged and rolled the rubbery nubs between her fingertips, I ogled, riveted, coaxing my prick to a stiffer state.

 

“Fuck yes,” I groaned, my cock jumping in my shorts. I palmed myself through the fabric, need burning through my veins.

 

Grinning, Grammy shimmied out of her camisole and shorts, baring every glorious inch of her body to my hungry eyes. She was all generous curves and soft, crepey skin that I ached to touch. Faded stretch marks striped her belly and thighs, badges of motherhood that only made her more devastatingly sexy to me.

 

“You want to touch Grammy, don’t you, baby?” she purred, trailing a hand down her body to the neat thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. “Want to put your young horse-sized cock in Grammy’s wet pussy?”

 

“God, yes,” I panted, sliding my shorts down enough to pull my erection free. I wrapped a fist around my aching cock, shuddering at the contact.

 

Grammy sprawled back on her bed, thighs falling open. Her pussy was flushed and puffy, slick with her excitement. She traced a finger through her gleaming folds and brought it to her mouth, sucking her own juices from her skin.

 

“Mmmm, Grammy, that’s good. You’ll have to lick her soon,” she rasped. “But first, stroke that fat cock for me. Nice and slow, like that.”

 

I followed her instructions, pumping my fist along my shaft from root to tip. My breath grew uneven as pleasure lanced through me. Grammy frigged her clit in slow circles, her eyes heavy-lidded as she watched me pleasure myself.

 

“Such a sexy boy,” she praised. “Getting all hard and worked up for your Grammy.”

 

“Yes,” I groaned. “I want you so fucking much. Want to be your good boy.”

 

“You are baby, you’re Grammy’s perfect boy,” she moaned. “My sweet, sexy grandson with his donkey-sized fat cock.”

 

Her filthy words inflamed me. I squeezed the base of my cock to keep from erupting right at that moment. Grammy grinned and reached for something off-screen. When her hand returned, it was wrapped around a thick rubber cock.

 

“This is what Grammy uses when she thinks about you,” she breathed, rubbing the dildo against her wet slit. “Mmm, but it’s not as impressive or hard as your cock, is it? Grammy wishes this was you splitting her open.”

 

She parted her pussy lips and thrust the dildo deep. Her back arched as she filled herself. I pumped my cock faster, imagining that clinging heat gripping me instead.

 

“Let Grammy see you cum, baby,” she panted, fucking herself hard and fast. “Coat yourself in hot jizz for me, that’s my good boy.”

 

Urgently, I grabbed a rag from the desk. Jumping to my feet, I aimed my cock and stroked furiously. My balls drew up tight. The release building, an unstoppable force, I could hold back no longer.

 

“Fuck, shit, GRAMMY!” I said in a fierce roar as the first surge of cum blasted from my cock. Spurt after spurt splattered the rag as I bucked and shook. Grammy cried out, her pussy clenching around the dildo buried inside it as she came apart with me.

 

The force of my orgasm made me dizzy. I sank back into my chair with a grunt, carelessly pulling off my mask and tossing it aside. For a few euphoric moments, I panted and tingled with ebbing pleasure. My softening cock lay against my thigh, still drooling cum.

 

Grammy’s voice pierced the fog.

 

“Rhett? Is that you?”

 

Horrified realization slammed into me as my post-orgasmic high evaporated in an instant. In my daze, I had removed my mask. My webcam was still on. Grammy was staring at me in shock. Panicking, I yanked my boxers up, closed my laptop, and shut off my camera. My heart raced, trying to break out of my chest. Grammy recognized me. I had had cam sex with my own grandmother, and now she caught me.

 

Fuck a duck, fuck me, fuck me all to hell, I fucked up. With shaking hands, I grabbed my phone. There was a text from Grammy. My stomach dropped as I opened it.