The Magic Typewriter Aka Simon Criel and His Smith Corona
Copyright© 2017 by Grandad1950
Chapter 1
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - It was no secret Simon lusted after every female member of his family, from his younger sister to both Grandmas; even Doris, the family dog, avoided him. At 16, he was still a virgin, but his magic typewriter changed that.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Coercion Consensual Magic NonConsensual Fiction Incest Mother Son Sister Cousins Niece Aunt Grand Parent Bestiality First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Tit-Fucking
Simon was a typical sixteen year old, forever lusting after a hole to plunge his cock into, but without success. He thought about sex every free second of the day and always with a family member, close or far away, including aunts and cousins. He even drew up league tables. Currently, it was his maternal Gran who was the inspiration for his incestuous fantasies, closely followed by his mother and younger sister.
The main target of his desire were his Gran’s boobs, large and beautifully shaped, hidden from view by the blouses she favoured. Since he was 14, he’d been unable to resist looking down her cleavage every chance he could, which always earned him a clip around his ear when she caught him, plus a tirade from his Dad.
Apart from sex, journalism was the only other passion of his life. He left school in 1962 and started work as a trainee journalist at the Birmingham Post and Mail, his wish to eventually move down to London and work for one of the Nationals in Fleet Street.
As with any trainees, he started at the bottom, in his case, working on the Classified Department, taking the orders and processing them. One in particular grabbed his attention, an auction at Lady Byron’s Lane, close to his home in Solihull. He recognized the address. The owner had been a recluse as far back as Simon could remember. It was rumoured he was a wizard. He’d believed it when he was a kid, but now he knew it was simply a silly rumour. The ‘wizard’ had died a couple of weeks before and there was an auction of the house contents. One item in the list of goods that immediately caught his eye was a typewriter, something every junior journalist needed.
A week later, he was in his bedroom, lovingly studying the heavy Smith Corona typewriter. A bargain at £2, even though it was half his weekly salary.
Once he’d finished gazing at his new treasure and positioning it on the old desk which had cost him another half a crown, he started his first fantasy. He’d long ago learnt how erotic it was to write a story involving a family member. It was a double bonus. By the end of writing it, his cock was rock hard and ready for release. The second bonus was lying in bed with his cock sticking out of his pajamas, reading it, re-reading the best parts as his hand slowly slid up and down the slippery head until he shot his cum over his bare chest. Now, he was able to type his pornographic tales. He called the first one, Grandma’s light bulb.
It was Saturday morning when Simon’s mother entered. She wore his favourite dressing gown, the silky one which was forever coming undone. Maybe she hadn’t noticed the tie had loosened. She was showing a lot of flesh.
‘Gran wants you to go round and change the light bulb in her bedroom.’
‘Can’t Grandad do it?’
His mother sat on the edge of the bed just as the tie completely loosened and her boobs slipped out. She smiled at him as she saw his eyes lower to her open gown. The silk material slipped, exposing her leg. She opened her thighs giving him a view of her hairy pussy.
‘Maybe, but she specially asked for you, ‘ she whispered as her hand slid inside his pajama top and down to finger his pubic hairs. ‘Perhaps Grandad is too tired to ... screw ... screw in her light bulb, ‘ she added as her soft hand closed around his cock.
Simon finished typing and re-read the opening. He loved where it was going with Mom, but Grandma had been top of the league table for a long time. Would he write his fantasy fuck with Mom or Grandma. He pondered for a while before he decided on Grandma. He returned to his typing. Half an hour later and it was finished. He pulled the last sheet from the typewriter, slipped into bed and closed his fist around his cock.
...
Simon had just woken as his mother entered the bedroom. He pulled the pillow over his head. Too early, it was Saturday, his lie in morning.
‘Gran wants you to go round and change the light bulb in her bedroom.’
‘Why me? She’s always avoiding me, ‘ he groaned into his pillow.
His mother repeated, ‘Gran wants you to go round and change the light bulb in her bedroom.’
Simon sat up and looked at her. It was obvious from the expression on her face she couldn’t believe what she’d said. She was confused. The likelihood that his Gran would want her least favourite grandson in her house was crazy. Despite that, Simon had heard her say it.
By then he’d noticed her gown was almost gaping. She seemed to be struggling with her hands, trying to move them to cover herself, but they were stuck rigid to her sides. Her muscles were bulging as she fought to raise her arms to close the gap. It continued to open as the tie slipped. That wasn’t her only struggle, she appeared to be fighting her feet. They were moving her towards his bed, but she kept turning the toes to one side as though she wanted to go in the opposite direction. Whatever she was attempting, she landed hard on the edge of his bed as the tie on her gown finally undid and slid from her shoulders.
She looked down at her boobs and swore. She used an even stronger expletive when her hands refused to cooperate and pull the gown back around to cover her nakedness. To add to her anger, the gown continued to slide from her body until it was a crumple on the carpet.
There was silence in the room as they realized what had happened. In less than a minute, his mother had disrobed and then, both gasped in amazement when she parted her thighs as an open invitation.
This was so unreal, thought Simon. She detested the way he ogled her when she accidently showed him some skin and now she was seducing him – wasn’t she? Despite the obvious, he didn’t know what he should do until, his mother’s hands began to explore him. When her hand grabbed his erect cock, he decided to make a move. His fingers aimed for the beautiful hairy nest between her thighs.
That was as far as he got.
Abruptly, Mum jumped from the bed, looking with disbelief at her hand, then at him. ‘Is this some nightmare?’ she growled, again looking at her hand as though it wasn’t hers. ‘What have you done to me? Ah, it’s a drug, isn’t it? You’ve drugged me. Why else would I handle your ... urgh!’ She shuddered. ‘Urgh!’
She grabbed her gown and moved toward the door, then had another thought. With the gown tight against her body to shield it from Simon’s gaze, she shouted. ‘If you ever, ever tell anyone about this, I’ll ... I’ll... ‘ She broke off, unable to think of any punishment which was suitable, apart from castration, which was maybe a tad harsh. She continued to the door. ‘Never. You understand, never.’ She left him, still staring at her hand and mumbling.
Simon lay back, reliving the past few minutes and trying to make sense of it. Was she right? Was her nightmare, his dream? No, he was awake for definite. Dreams had a special feel to them. He thought about the conversation and retrieved the story from under the bed.
‘Gran wants you to go round and change the light bulb in her bedroom.’
Yes, those were the exact words she used and everything that happened afterwards was just as he typed it, right up to when his fingers were ready to enter her pussy. Instead, he’d decided to go to his Grans. Could it really be this simple? Everything I type must take place, even if Mom doesn’t like it. Wow!
Damn! He groaned and collapsed on the pillows. If only he’d continued typing. A second later, he shot up. Of course, he thought. Re-write it. I haven’t gone to Grans yet, so why don’t I cut out the Gran story and file it away for some other time – this afternoon maybe.
He went to the typewriter and started a new page. Half an hour later, he’d finished. He read it through, his cock already tenting his pajamas. Mmm! He thought. Just one more little detail, which would prove or disprove his theory. He looked at his watch. 10.40. Five minutes to add the time to the story, cut off the Gran part and Scotch Tape the new ending.
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