It was the spring of my 18th year. To show how liberal I was, I befriended a black girl at college. She invited me to spend the weekend with her and her grandfather. I gladly accepted her invitation.

To say this elderly man’s appearance shocked me was an understatement.

Standing sex feet six or seven, his body rippled with muscles. And one couldn’t escape the sight of the trouser lizard snaking down his left leg. Letting a gasp escape when I first saw the monster covered by bulging denim.

He smiled and introduced himself.

Trying to avoid ogling as we spoke, I glanced from him to my friend, to the walls, and always back to him. Squirming about in my chair, I stuttered and stammered through dinner. The thick wetness leaked from me to my panties and wet my tight shorts.

When the hour grew late, I excused myself and went to my bedroom.

I lay in bed, unable to sleep. Perturbed by Grandpa’s build and the python in his pants. I lay in my childish night shirt and matching panties. Winnie-the-Pooh, what’s a grown woman doing wearing a child’s nighty?

Finally, I dosed off. After a while, I was neither asleep nor awake, but somewhere between. I felt this thing on my hip. Ponderously heavy, it sat there, then wasn’t. And it returned, thumping my bare thigh.

My eyes opened, and in the darkness, he stood there. His cock in his hand, slapping my thigh and ass with the beast. With his free hand, he lifted his forefinger to his lips.

“Let’s play.”

“I’m a virgin,” I proclaimed.

“Not for long,” Grandpa said.

“Shaniqua will hear.”

“No, I gave her sleeping pills.”

Taking me in his arms, he carried me to his own room. Once there, he laid me on the king-sized bed and removed my top and panties. The dimmed lights in the room gave a yellow glow to everything.

His dark chocolate skin was smooth and hairless. And he spread my legs, put his face right to my pussy, and licked me. His tongue was long and fat and rough like a cat’s. Never had anyone done this.

It was better than a vibrator. Better than my fingers. And wetness flooded me, and Grandpa lapped up my sap, which caused me to climax in a long, continuous wave of pleasure. Once my writhing ceased, he positioned himself between my legs.

Putting his fat thumb at my opening, he twirled his finger on my clit and shoved his fat thumb in an inch or two into my tight, tiny virgin hole.

I whimpered as something I can’t explain flooded me. Emotions conflicting with my catholic upbringing. Desire I’d never experienced. Grandpa’s gigantic king cobra stood up and covered his belly button.

I wanted him inside me.

He was on his knees and pulled me toward him, up his legs. I wrapped mine around him. Taking his cock in his hand, he rubbed my pussy lips from clit to hole, lathering the prickhead with my discharge.

“No way to keep this from hurting,” Grandpa said.

With one swift plunge, he shoved inside, shredded my hymen, and continued deeper. Pulling back, almost out of me, he plunged again, more of him deeper inside me.

I felt my muscles yield. Grandpa’s manhood, rock-hard, went deeper and deeper. Out and in. Out and in. Wrapping his arms around me, he clutched me tight and pumped his hips. Driving more and more of that magnificent black mamba into my guts.

Oh, yes, there was pain. Ripping through me, sharp and wretched hurt. But under and above my pain was a profound, delightful sensation. My hands wandered his body, powerful muscles tight like wound wire tensed up, driving him into me. He worked his lust into me.

More orgasms and pain mixed inside me.

My hips bucked into him. We danced in a salacious rapture, our bodies merging and dividing and merging again. His dick filled me and deserted me and filled me. I only understood him, sensed him. Nothing else mattered.

There was nothing in the world but us, rutting like beasts. Fucking, pounding into and pulling away from one another in synchronicity. I couldn’t breathe when his cock withdrew, couldn’t exhale when plunged into me.

Moments turned to minutes, minutes turned to an hour. Finally, he filled me with his rich seed. I belonged to him. We slept late, and Shaniqua served us breakfast in bed.

“Grandpa,” she said, “you hound dog.”