Grandpa’s Gangbang Toy

Story Excerpt

The basement stinks of stale cigar smoke, cheap beer, and sweat—so thick it clings to the back of the throat. Bare concrete floors are scuffed and stained, littered with crumpled cans and cigarette butts ground into the cracks. A folding table sits shoved against one wall, poker chips scattered like forgotten confetti, while a sagging mattress lies in the center, its corners frayed and yellowed. Flickering fluorescent light casts harsh shadows, illuminating the filth of the scene unfolding in this grimy pit beneath an old house. It’s a cesspool of depravity, and at the heart of it is Chloe, 22 and trembling, caught between two of her grandfather’s oldest friends.

She’s bent over on all fours on that filthy mattress, her pale skin streaked with sweat, her shirt bunched up around her chest, jeans long since ripped off and tossed into a corner. Behind her, a man in his late 70s, all wiry muscle and sagging skin, grips her hips with gnarled hands, his nails digging into her flesh as he thrusts with a grunted rhythm. His breath comes in harsh wheezes, the sound mingling with the wet slap of skin on skin. In front, another old bastard, just as weathered, stands with his pants around his ankles, liver-spotted fingers tangled in her dark hair. He’s guiding her mouth down his length, his gut hanging over as he lets out a low, guttural growl. The air is heavy with their musk, a rancid mix of unwashed bodies and lust that makes her stomach churn.

“Fuckin’ hell, girl, take it deeper. Don’t slack on me now,” the one in front rasps, his voice like gravel as he tightens his grip, forcing her head forward. Spit dribbles down her chin, her lips stretched and sore, but he doesn’t let up, his hips jerking with greedy insistence.

“Christ, she’s tighter than a damn vice—worth every chip I threw in,” the man behind her huffs, his thrusts uneven but relentless. His calloused palm smacks her ass, leaving a red imprint on her already flushed skin, and the impact jolts her forward, choking her further on the cock in her mouth. The mattress beneath creaks and shifts, its springs long broken, offering no support as her knees grind into the grime.