The Last Drop
by Mat Twassel
Copyright© 2025 by Mat Twassel
Fiction Sex Story: Grandma's attic proves too enticing to resist. The Last Drop was written an illustrated by me. I've included a bonus story Attic Antics written and illustrated by CoPilot AI with my assistance.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult Fiction Illustrated .
Jamie thought having sex in Drew’s grandma’s attic while Grandma was napping in her first-floor bedroom would add extra spice, and the fuck lived up to Jamie’s expectations. She must have come five times before Drew poured all he had into her pulsing cunt. With Drew conked out on the serviceable cot, Jamie slipped into her jacket and peered into the antique wall mirror to unsnag her earrings. She could find her frock and panties later.
“What are you up to?” Drew asked, evidently having recovered from his tumultuous orgasm. In fact, Jamie couldn’t help but notice in the mirror a skein of gleaming cum dipping from Drew’s penis slit.
“So, you were holding out on me, were you?” she teased.
“Huh?” Drew managed.
Jamie turned enough that she could capture the head of Drew’s cock between her lips before that rogue slip of semen could make good its escape.
The taste of her own sex juice spurred Jamie to escalate the blowjob, and in a minute or so, with only a bit of naughty fingering, Drew’s cock came to full erection.
Jamie pushed him back onto the cot, mounted him efficiently, and, over the course of some twenty or thirty minutes, completed the job.
“Anything interesting in the attic?” Grandma asked, meeting them at the foot of the stairs. “For a moment or two I worried there were raccoons or water buffaloes up there.”
Story and illustrations by Mat
I asked CoPilot AI to create a children’s story about a young girl and a raccoon and water buffalo in Grandma’s attic. Here is that story.
Attic Antics
By CoPilot
One rainy afternoon, Grandma’s house smelled like cinnamon toast and old books. The raindrops tap-danced on the roof while Ellie tiptoed up the creaky stairs to the attic, looking for her lost jigsaw puzzle.
But when she opened the attic door, she didn’t find her puzzle.
She found a raccoon wearing a monocle and a water buffalo in a tutu.
“Ah! A visitor!” said the raccoon, bowing with a flourish. “I’m Rufus. Archivist of Forgotten Things.”
“And I’m Bubbles,” said the water buffalo, twirling gracefully. “I’m in charge of the attic ballet.”
Ellie blinked. “You live here?”
“Of course,” said Rufus. “We moved in after the Great Sock Migration of ‘92. This attic is a sanctuary for misplaced wonders.”
He gestured to a tower of teacups, a hammock fashioned from neckties, and a chandelier made entirely of spoons.
Bubbles offered Ellie a peanut butter sandwich from a picnic basket balanced on a globe. “We were just about to rehearse Act II of The Nutcracker, but with more stomping.”
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