TCCS Pt. 02 Ch. 14: One Hot Grandma Helps Old BBC

Based on comics by the Pit and Stormbringer

The Coxville Curse Part 2: Chapter 14: One Hot Grandma Helps Old BBC

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October 16, 2009: Friday, the Day of the Pool Party

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Willie spanked her ass hard with one hand thrusting his hips forward, his cock bottomed out, spitting out one of his typically huge loads of sperm until her womb was flooded and it started running down his shaft and pouring out on the floor. Candy was leaning forwards, feet on the ground, head in her arms on her bed. She fell forwards and Long yanked his cock out. He'd been standing behind her, squatting as he fucked her hard. He didn't say a word as he turned and headed to her bathroom.

Candy crawled on her bed. She was keeping a dishtowel beside the bed to help keep the mess down, but that was an impossible task. She grabbed the towel and tucked it between her legs. When someone ejaculated so much sperm, so deep, it would take a long time to leak out, hours even, but the rag helped get most of it. She was still laying on the bed nude, with her legs squeezed around the towel, when Long returned. "Good luck on your first day," he told her.

"Thanks," she replied. "I'll do what I can."

"I'm sure you will," he said, bending down, kissing her just like Marvin used to kiss her as he left for work, just like most husbands and wives did. Of course, Marvin didn't leave her sexually exhausted with a womb full of semen every morning. He'd never left her sexually exhausted or satisfied for that matter, but he did leave her well enough off that she didn't need to work. So now she was going to make Willie Long happy and volunteer her services at the Westside Healthcare facility.

Candy rested for a while after he left, finally climbing off the bed. She removed the towel from between her legs, feeling still more semen began to run down her thighs. She entered her restroom, tossed the towel onto yesterday's towel in the dirty clothes hamper. The bathroom reeked of semen from all the crusted towels and panties in the hamper, but she liked the smell, it reminded her of Willie. Come to think of it, the laundry room smelled of semen too as did her bedroom.

Candy showered then dressed in a tight pull over top that exposed some cleavage and pulled on her favorite pair of jeans. The jeans hugged her plump ass tightly and she'd gotten many a

whistle from young men seeing her from behind and assuming she was some young hottie. Seeing her front, they looked surprised, but not disappointed. Soon she was in her car and headed to Coxville.

The receptionist at the desk of the Westside Healthcare looked surprised to see her come strolling in. She was black like all the nursing staff. Westside Healthcare was poor and not terribly modern. If you wanted a richer old folks home, you needed to go to Coxburg. "May I help you?" asked the receptionist.

"Yes, I'm Candace Cox. I'm here to volunteer."

The receptionist's eyes opened, and she reared back in surprise. She recovered quickly. "That's great. We've never had a whi... woman like you volunteer here before."

"I'd just like to do what I can. I was a caregiver at one time and liked it, but I had to quit to raise my two daughters. I should have gone back to it a long time ago."

"Let me show you around, I'm Doris."

"My friends call me Candy."

Candy followed Doris around for about thirty minutes. The receptionist pointed out the common room with a big TV, books, magazines, crossword books, and jigsaw puzzles. Three old blacks, two men and one woman sat watching TV. Doris took her to the cafeteria and the rest of the facility.

"Our residents are dying for some companionship. The last volunteer quit last week, and our nursing staff are too busy to do things like read to the residents and of course their family members don't visit them nearly often enough. Some can't see and like to be read to. Some like to go for walks out back. Most just want someone to talk to."

"What happened to the last volunteer?"

Barakunde made her miserable. His real name's Barry Kuhn, but he turned militant black in the 60's and called himself something more African. He's a miserable horny old goat, copping a feel every chance he gets. He's really quite harmless if you know how to handle him."

"I can handle myself," said Candy. "Now where do I start?"

"Just knock on a door and introduce yourself. Any door will do."

"Thanks Doris," said Candy. The receptionist walked away, and Candy decided just to take the closest door. She stuck her head in the room. The room held two beds, two recliners, and one television stand. One bed was empty, but made. Several vases of wilted flowers rested on a nearby nightstand. Candy got the impression that the occupant must have died recently. That was par for the course in places like this. The second bed, farthest from the door and near a window with a lovely view of the rundown condominiums of the Westside complete with drug dealing youths hanging out before one unit off in the distance. The more upscale retirement home (aka the "white" one) had a large park with picnic tables, walking paths, and a stream behind it.

The room's one occupant was a very elderly black man, that had to have at least twenty years on Willie Long. He sat in the recliner staring at the television watching a game show. His eyes were heavily lidded, and Candy wasn't entirely sure if he was awake or asleep. "Knock knock," she said, entering the room.

"Yes," said the man, slowly turning his head. His eyes opened wider when he saw her. The man was old, skinny, and frail looking. His head was bald, but for several random wisps of gray hair and dotted with liver spots darker than his black skin. Clear tubes ran from his nose to an oxygen tank sitting beside the chair.

"I'm Candy Cox," she told him, walking over to him, and holding out her hand. He looked at her hand and slowly raised his. She took and shook it, once again realizing how frail he really was. "I'm volunteering here. Today's my first day."

"George Holmes," he replied as she released his hand. "Today's my 3719th day, plus or minus a few months."

"A witty one I see, Mr. Holmes. So, you've been here awhile then."

"Ten years in this shit hole, Candy," he replied. "Ten years in this room. Once a week they wheel a chair in and walk me through the halls for what that's worth. Spent a week in the hospital last year. I called that my vacation."

"I'm truly sorry Mr. Holmes," said Candy, remembering why she'd not gone back into the care giving business after Jenny and Kat were old enough to take care of themselves. "Well I am here to help. If there's anything I can do for you, sit and talk, read to you, if you'd like, I can go find a wheelchair and take you for one of those walks?"

"Ma'am, if you truly want to help me, get that bed pan so that I can piss."

Candy blushed a little. There was a bed pan under the bed. She grabbed it and held it out for the old man. "Here you go, Mr. Holmes."

"I mean you gots to do it. Arthritis you see." George held his hand up and she realized it was bent into a claw shape.

"I'll get a nurse," she told him.

"Been calling a nurse for an hour," he grumbled. George held up a buzzer beside his chair. Candy went to the door and looked out into the hall. One employee was down the hall busy with a man in a wheelchair. She thought about calling out to the woman, but she had her hands full. She turned back into the room. "End up pissing myself nine times out a ten," said George.

"Of course, I'll help you Mr. Holmes," said Candy. She looked around, there was a box of latex gloves on a table by the door. She pulled two out and pulled the gloves on over her hands, closing the door to give the old man some privacy. Candy walked over to the man and moved the bedpan to the floor between his legs.

He was wearing pajama bottoms beneath a white tee shirt. The pajamas were drawstrings and already loose. She didn't see why arthritis would have prevented him from reaching into his pajamas, but she reached out and pulled the waistband down anyway. His bushy gray pubes appeared and soon the root of a very thick penis. Candy reached into his pajamas, grasped the thick log inside and pulled his cock out. "Whoa!" she said, as it appeared, and she couldn't help but stare at it, impressed.

Holmes chuckled. "Never had no white woman touching it before."

Candy smiled at him. "Bet you were quite the stud back in the day," she told him. Willie truly had a monster of a cock. George Holmes wasn't as long as Willies', but he was close, over a foot long and it looked like it might be thicker than her lover's. George was also uncircumcised, and the head was a big heavy knob encased in a wrinkly sack. Yes, quite the stud, she thought.

"What do you mean, back in the day?" he asked, grinning widely, revealing yellowed and missing teeth. "I still gots it."

Candy held up the bed pan and aimed the fat cock at it. "Can you relax a little and let her rip?" she asked. He closed his eyes and appeared to strain. She'd never held a man's penis before as he urinated and certainly not some old nigger's huge cock. It jerked a little in her hand and then the flow started. Urine struck the bedpan. It fascinated her a little and she fought the urge to move it around as he peed. His flow was intermittent, sometimes strong, sometimes coming out in spurts. When it was strong, it felt like she was holding a garden hose in her hand, she could feel the urine traveling through it. Finally, it stopped and the old man sighed in relief. "All better?' she asked.

"You gotta shake the piss out Missy," he said.

Candy shook the floppy hose, urine flying from the tip. Then she squeezed upwards to get the last few drops out. As she moved her hand, she felt her fingers stretching apart. The old black man's cock was growing in her hand! In fact, once it got going, it hardened rapidly. His old cock soon started looking like a steel hammer, hard in her hand with that big round head peeking out of the foreskin. He was definitely thicker then Long's cock. "You're right Mr. Holmes, I take the whole "back in the day" comment back."

He chuckled. "Honestly, haven't had an erection in fifteen years until a few weeks ago when I woke up with a huge stiffy the likes I hadn't had since I was a young man. It was pitch dark cause of the fog that night and I had to fumble with the light cause I wanted to see what my dick looked like hard again. Been getting hard every day since. Several times."

"I think your penis looks incredible, Mr. Holmes. Any man would be proud to have something like this." Strangely, she hadn't released it and was fighting the urge to stroke it. She wasn't lying either, her late husband Marvin Cox certainly hadn't been anywhere near this size in the penis department, but then she'd never seen Marvin's penis as hard as this ninety-year-old nigger's cock either.

"Never had no beautiful young white woman touching it before. I don't think it's gonna go back down without help. I can't do it with these hands." He held one clawed hand back up.

"Y-you want me to get you off?" she asked, taking her eyes of his black cock, and looking into his old brown eyes.

"If there was one thing you could do to help me Candy, that would be it. It's been fifteen years since that big fucker shot a load and it would sure make me happy to cum just one last time.

"I g-guess... I could give you a hand job, but I... is it even safe at your age?"

"I don't care if it's safe or not and a hand job would be just fine... though I wouldn't complain if you wrapped those lovely red lips around it a bit either."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," said Candy, smiling. There was a bottle of hand lotion beside the old man. She reached out for it and squirted some on the latex in the palm of her hand and then some on his black shaft, running it up its length like she was squirting mustard on a foot-long hot dog. George sighed, a smile slowly spreading across his face as she started stroking him. He leaned back in the chair and stared down at her jerking him off. Candy just stared at his cock in fascination. The head had emerged from the foreskin, glistening, and swelling as the lotion coated it. Except for the bushy white pubes, this cock could have belonged to a twenty-year-old. It was swollen and hot, when she stopped stroking it, she could feel it's pulse through the large blue-black veins crisscrossing the mighty shaft. "My my, what a nice big black cock you have here, Mr. Holmes," she told him unable to take her eyes from it.

"Oh fuck!" he grunted, and it sounded painful. His cock exploded a huge wad of semen directly in her face. Candy closed her eyes just in time as her face was suddenly dripping with sperm. It was a bigger wad then even Willie Long's big loads and another one splattered on her face. Candy leaned down and opened her lips just in time to get a third wad of semen filling her mouth. She gulped, wrapping her lips around his still throbbing cock head. More semen filled her mouth and it was delicious. She gulped it down as fast as the old man could pump it into her mouth all the while wondering why she just hadn't just gone ahead and blown him. Her gloved hand continued jerking the old cock until every drop had drained from it and down her mouth.

When he was finally done, she released his cock and blindly stood up. She felt her way to the bathroom and the sink, turning on the faucet as she wiped all the sperm from her eyes. Her tongue licking all the sperm within its reach from around her lips. The 55-year-old woman cleaned her face. It hadn't been that long since she'd hooked up with Willie, but she'd already lost count of the number of facials she'd had since then.

Finally satisfied, she'd cleaned the sperm off her, Candy left the bathroom. The old black man was laying on the chair with his head back and his mouth partially opened. For a moment, panic swept her body. "Mr... Mr. Holmes? Are you all right?"

George was already grinning, but the grin spread wider across his mouth. "Next time, I wanna see dem white titties."

Candy smiled in relief. "Next time, maybe I'll use them to get your cock off."

She shook her head in disbelief as the old man's limp cock swelled and rose up just a bit at her words. "Amazing," she muttered, before turning to leave the room and meet the rest of her patients.

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Willie Long downed the last of his coffee and set the cup down on his desk. He looked over at the #1 Grandpa lettering on the mug and smiled thinking of his granddaughter Stacy. He was proud of Stacy, she got good grades and was goal driven despite her slutty nature. She'd never had a boyfriend that Long knew of, she just went out and fucked whatever member of the football team asked her out. Long shuddered at the images his hidden videos had captured. He'd accidentally glimpsed Stacy with every black member of the team before his fumbling hands could stop the video. They were using her, but she was smart enough to realize it and didn't seem to mind. That had changed recently, the black team members seemed eager to join Samson in conquering white cheerleaders. Stacy's activities had slowed down of late and he was worried she was a little depressed.

Willie Long and his late wife Rachel had one child, a daughter, Ella Wayne. They were lucky to have any at all as Rachel had difficulty conceiving. They never knew why she'd had fertility problems, but Long had always believed it stemmed from her sexual assault during the election day riot of '72. Their daughter was born late in the year following the riots and Rachel never conceived again. Ella Wayne wasn't as strong willed as Stacy and the moment she lost her virginity, she went cock mad. Rachel never admitted to it, but Willie always suspected his wife had taken their daughter for an abortion soon afterwards while Ella was still in high school. After that, Ella Wayne went on the pill. Her grades were nonexistent at that point as she skipped school, partied with thugs, and ran away every time her parents tried to stifle her behavior. Willie found her stripping at a club in the ghetto section of Coxburg, threw her over his shoulder and dragged her home.

Willie loved his wife but then she did something even worse in his eyes then take his daughter to an abortion clinic. Rachel introduced Ella Wayne to god, and not the real god, the Christian god. As much as Willie hated it, church seemed to work on his daughter and she calmed down considerably. Rachel was from a religious family and Long had never confessed his true religious beliefs. His wife just assumed he was a non-believer since he was so spiteful towards Christianity. Prayer kept the horny hormone crazed eighteen-year-old girl in check until Malik Brown came to church. Malik was an angry ghetto thug from Coxburg kept out of jail solely for being a juvenile. Now at eighteen, a religious judge had suggested church in exchange for leniency as Malik would be charged as an adult for his next crime. He spent two days total at church, a Sunday where he sat and stared at Ella Wayne the entire sermon and a Wednesday night where Malik and Ella Wayne were discovered fucking in the basement by the pastor. Malik was caught dealing three days later and went to jail. Ella Wayne gave birth to Stacy nine months later. Malik insisted his daughter Stacy have his last name. After giving birth, Ella Wayne remained largely celibate, but every time Mailk got released from prison, he'd show up to see his daughter and Ella Wayne would find herself fucking him for the brief period before he committed another crime and went back to jail. Willie grunted just thinking about that black thug. There was something about that nigga his daughter just couldn't resist. At least, Malik had been responsible for giving Long his one grandchild and Willie loved her more than anything else.

Willie sat back in his chair and glanced over at the video display. Nothing was going on over the live feeds at the moment. The cheerleaders had skipped out on the showers after discussing heading to Kitty's to use the pool. He watched Mrs. Kindle hurry off. She'd dressed unusually sexy that day in tight yoga pants and her hair was down. Unable to resist, he'd called her into his office and gave her the old black snake of Damballah. Other than that, it had been a slow down on his video feeds. Willie replayed the video of Jenny Summers and Coach Black, once again thanking Damballah that he'd had the foresight to place some cameras in the men's shower. He reached out for his pen and wrote blackmail at the top of his planner. He then switched over to the video of Samson and Kitty in the girl's locker room, forwarding it to the part where Kitty became Samson's anal slut. Underneath the word blackmail on his planner, he wrote Kitty Summers and Jenny Summers underneath Kitty. Monday was going to be a very good day.

Willie grabbed his briefcase and locked his office door. "Goodnight Miss Murdock, he said to his hunched over elderly secretary.

"Goodnight Principal Long," she replied.

Willie Long got in his car and pulled out of his parking spot. "Time to head home," he mumbled, a smile broadening his face when he realized that "home" now meant Candy Cox's house. He'd essentially moved in and hadn't looked back. Plus, he was totally happy living with the lovely Candace Cox. She was the perfect companion in every way. Watching the videos of Candy's daughter and granddaughter discovering the pleasure of black cock had his own enormous cock semi hard and his erection lasted the entire hour drive to Candy's old farmhouse in the old Dutch farming enclave North of town.

He wondered how Candy's day had gone.