Chapter 3

"Damn, boy! Is that what you do on that phone all day? Get hard lookin' at smut?"

Edward's words, the first spoken since he began to eat, shook Nick from a trance.

As his grandfather ate, Nick kept thinking about his outburst, continuing to feel terrible. Without the concept actually occurring to him, he tried to distract himself.

Nick decided to look at his phone, eventually coming upon the pictures Brittani had sent the day before, obviously getting lost in them.

"W-w-what?"

As he looked shocked at his great-great-grandfather, he looked down at his crotch to see that he had gotten himself hard, tenting his pants as he sat. Edward raised his eyebrows.

"Nice belly tickler y'have there, kid," Edward said, almost beaming with pride. "The family tradition lives on!" he chuckled, shaking his head.

Shyly, Nick shut off his phone and put in his pocket, pondering.

Sex made Nick feel invincible. He was good at it, really really good at it, and remembering that always let Nick puff his chest a bit. He puffed his chest more in the past six months than he did cumulatively his entire life.

But Nick knew full and well - sex was about the only thing he was confident about.

"Next time you see me, skip lookin' at the girly pictures, will ya?" Edward bellowed.

"It wasn't..." Nick began to say, as if to defend himself, before choosing to stay quiet.

"Oh God!" Edward whined. "You're not a faggot are ya'? Don't be looking at cocks when you're in my room, y'understand?!"

Nick shook his head, definitely ready to defend himself. Nick figured, admitting what he was doing was better than admitting he was gay, quite the taboo for somebody as old as Edward. "It wasn't cocks, grandpa. It was ... this girl ... um, that sent me, um, her, y'know..."

As Nick squirmed, it was Edward's turn to be confused. He tried to piece together Nick's words in his head, but they just didn't make sense. When Edward heard the word "sent," it usually meant something coming in the mail.

Nick, meanwhile, couldn't believe he had told his great-great-grandfather so much. He turned absolutely white, terrified that his great-great-grandfather might find out what he did on his phone, and even worse, that he habitually sent pictures of himself to other girls. In this case, it was an underaged girl.

The young man had no idea that a concept like sexting didn't even begin to make its way into Edward's truly technophobic mind.

"Nevermind. Let's, um, are you ready to talk again?" Nick asked, desperately changing the subject.

Edward had always wondered why teenagers and young people like Nick obsessively looked at their phones all day long. Like a smack to the head, though, Edward got the realization that Nick probably looked at pornography. Edward knew that kind of thing was possible on a computer, but he never quite connected the dots that it was possible on a phone, too.

Maybe that's why all the kids stared at their phones all day long? They were looking at porn on them, he thought. Constantly.

The concept made him chuckle. Edward remembered the absolute rarity of smut when he was a young man, his first contact with it being in a brothel in St. Louis in 1920, watching a "blue film" in a back room as he waited to visit Lucille. Sweet, wonderfully nasty Lucille.

The thought made Edward smile even more, shaking his head, feeling playful.

"Not yet. Lemme see that dish you were lookin' at. It's been years since I looked at a nudie picture," Edward said, crooking his old eyebrow and extending his shaky, wrinkly hand toward Nick.

Shocked, Nick put his hand on his pocket, covering his phone. "No!" he yelled, panicked.

"C'mon, Nicky!" Edward charmed. "I'm an old man, an' I don't see pairs of bazooms as much as I used ta."

Nick had no hope. There was something hilarious about an old man begging to see tits, and it was borderline impossible to resist. Little did Nick know that it was this same charm that compelled a few of his young nurses to give him a flash over the years.

"Sure, Grandpa," Nick laughed to cover up his jumpiness. Reluctantly, Nick fished his phone out of his pocket. He had to be careful, though. The last thing he wanted was for his great-great-grandpa to see the dick pics he sent Brittani. He could've opted to show Edward another message feed from another girl. But, Nick's cock was prominent in those conversations, as well.

Pulling up the close-up shot of Brittani looking like pure sex, her big tits hanging out of her bra, Nick held it up to Edward. "No touching," he instructed.

Edward set his eyes on Brittani, having no idea that she was so young. She was a stunner, he thought. The old man loved curvy girls, which made him a rarity when he was trying to meet women after World War I, when flat, skinny flapper girls were all the rage.

Young Brittani was his cup of tea.

"Y'have good taste, kid. The bazooms on her..." Edward winked as he stared. Though Edward's days of anything vaguely sex-related were long gone, he wanted to see more.

Deviously, Edward quickly knocked the phone from Nick's hand, using unreal speed and dexterity for a supercentenarian. He wanted to see more, plus have a little fun with the kid.

"Gotcher phone," Edward teased as Nick practically bee-lined for another panicked breakdown. "Grandpa, give it back!" Nick shouted, thinking of wrestling his phone back from the probably brittle old man.

"The 21st century. Handheld smut!" Edward laughed as his paper-like fingers struck the screen. He quickly realized that the phone worked like a smaller version of his tablet, one that he only used for writing and reading, ignorant of its Internet abilities.

One press of the "back" button revealed a text message stream. One swipe revealed a ridiculously big cock.

Edward shockingly stopped in his tracks as his brain processed what he was seeing. He saw the messages, interspersed with pictures and conversational messages, and it all suddenly began to make sense. As it did, Nick begin to practically climb on Edward.

Nick was beginning to vibrate in fear as Edward discovered the lewd content on his phone, namely his habit of sending dickpics. Nick resisted physically going after the phone, for fear of potentially injuring his decrepit old great-great-grandfather. But panic forced him to lunge for it.

Sensing Nick's advance, Edward's reflexes kicked in to pull back. While his voice box failed often, physically, Edward had the body and reflexes of a 70-year-old.

Continuing to look at Nick's phone, Edward continued to process what he was seeing.

Nick was messaging some girl, trading pictures. That cock he saw, the one that reminded him of his own when he was a young man, was Nick's. The girl he was talking to seemed dumb as a box of rocks, since she obviously couldn't spell. He saw mentions of "high school," which implanted the idea in Edward's mind that this girl was young.

But one sentence stuck out to him.

"You're right kid," Edward said to Nick with a grin. "She is sex personified!"

Edward was jarred from his commentary as Nick successfully wrestled his phone back. Nick was beginning to freak out again. His abrupt actions and crazy eyes suggested it. If anybody knew the warning signs, it was Edward.

"Fucking give it back!" Nick shouted, quickly stepping back several feet like he was about to flee. Again.

Edward couldn't control himself.

"Kid, that's amazin'!" he beamed, making an effort to soothe his freaked-out great-great-grandson. "Hot damn, if they had phones back in my day..." Edward was almost laughing uncontrollably.

Nick saw Edward's look of genuine pride, and it had the strange effect of diffusing him. The old man was amazed, and it was obvious. Since Nick increasingly defined himself by his sexual prowess, he considered if he should share his story with Edward. Nick really didn't have close friends, outside of bocce ball mates and the light conversation that allowed. He certainly had no male friends to brag with about sex. It was a subject that, honestly, guys really didn't talk about with each other.

Nick suddenly realized that he desperately wanted to brag.

Edward noticed Nick's growing, sheepish grin.

"So that's not smut! You screwed that girl, didn't you?" Edward asked.

Nick, hiding a guilty smile, nodded. "Why did you think I was late today?" Nick confirmed.

"Hot damn!" Edward laughed, clapping his hands, his voice raspy as he enjoyably cackled. "I understand, then!" Edward's voice cracked.

The entire subject made Edward's head swim. He saw his life with women again in a flash. He remembered when he came of age, after The Great War. He remembered the women he met in Chicago, at brothels and at jazz halls, and how they were nothing like most of the women he knew from the farm. He remembered the joy and power he felt when he realized what it was like to be a cosmopolitan man of the Jazz Age. What music was. What drinking was. What sexual prowess was.

Proudly, Nick again tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Edward was still shaking his head, giggling.

"I'll tell you what, kid, phones beat the hell out of calling on a girl!"

Somewhat confused, Nick smiled.

"Yeah," he said, still sheepish and quite floored at where his conversation with his great-great-grandfather was heading. "These days we text. We don't really call much anymore."

Edward shook his head. "No, no," he protested. "Not call a girl. Call on a girl."

Nick's eyes were shifty, unable to look in Edward's eyes, not having a clue what he was trying to say.

"Nevermind," Edward said exasperated and creaking, and immediately, Nick's expression dropped away.

The smiling, joyful happiness that Edward had been showing, something that Nick rarely saw from his great-great-grandfather, disappeared. Strangely, Nick wanted it to return.

"No..." Nick said abruptly and unsure. "Tell me what you mean."

Slowly, Edward's blue eyes shifted back toward Nick, a smirk filling his face.

"Owww!" Elizabeth wailed as her mother, Calista, pulled the corset tight.

Calista could only chuckle. She'd been in Elizabeth's position before, getting primped and primed before Elizabeth and Edward's father, Charles, called on her in the Summer of 1890. Calista remembered her mother's adorably terrible advice to be silent in Charles' presence, lest he find out that she had "opinions."

Edward was sitting in the front room, grumpy that he didn't have a place to read. He usually lied in his bed, reading all hours of the day. However, since he shared the bedroom with his older sister, he was required to wait outside.

Hearing his sister exclaim, though, piqued his interest enough that he snuck a peek inside the room.

"Dear heart," Calista told her only daughter, "This is part of dressing like a lady. I know it's not very much fun, but you're representing your family name and we can't have you disappointing your father."

Frustrated, Elizabeth breathed an exasperated sigh, the air from her mouth making her errant bangs blow off of her forehead.

The sight made Edward, now 14 years old, giggle at his nearly 19-year-old sister, effectively giving away his secret gaze. The sound of his snickering made both Calista and Elizabeth jump.

"I think you look beautiful, Lizzie," Edward told his sister, smiling adoringly at her.

Edward's use of his nickname for his sister made Elizabeth grin goofily, while Calista scowled.

"Edward Jameson Calloway!" Calista shrieked. "Your sister isn't decent! Get out of here this instant!"

Elizabeth smirked at her brother then back at her sister. "It's fine, mother," she said. "All I'm missing is my dress. He sees this every day." Calista groaned, glaring at Edward before continuing to focus on Elizabeth, her silence approving Edward's presence.

Edward giggled, smiling as he took in his sister's form. He certainly didn't see this every day. As the corset was being tightened, her already large breasts were pushed more and more upward toward her chin. And Elizabeth noticed.

"I can't even see my feet," Elizabeth complained, looking down at her breasts that bulged from the top of her corset. "Oww! stop it."

Reflexively, Calista smacked Elizabeth on the head. "Would you rather not have any chest at all? You need to show Mr. Jacobs that you're fertile."

"Mother, you know full and well that I could wear a potato sack and Arthur would still be able to see my ... fertility," Elizabeth quipped, her hand cupping her full, overflowing breasts as Calista continued to tighten the corset. "In fact, he's made it quite clear already that he's very well aware."

Calista smirked before realizing that Edward was still watching them. "Elizabeth Calloway! Language! Don't be so lewd!" Calista lowered her voice to a whisper. "Your brother can hear you."

Edward smirked at his sister's inappropriateness, looking at her longingly. He'd only just begun to admit to himself that he had a little crush on his older sister. He thought her stunningly beautiful, with her sea-blue eyes, long blonde hair and a figure that he would later learn was like "an hourglass."

Unfortunately, every other boy in his town of Jetmore, Kansas - and beyond - thought she was stunning as well.

Even though his father made a modest living, growing mostly hay and chicken feed on their small farm, Elizabeth was as highly sought as a wealthy big city debutante. As a result, Edward had seen seven young men make a serious call upon his sister over the previous six months, most of them from out of town. The men would make their call upon Elizabeth after brief visits at dances, picnics and socials, but one by one, they'd all fizzled out for one reason or another.