voc part 5

It had been three weeks since then, and Grandpa Brian was driving her to a hotel twenty minutes from the village one owned by an old friend. Emily’s fingers tapped nervously against her thigh as she stared out the window at the blur of trees. "What if..." she started, then swallowed hard. "What if he reports you if he finds out I'm your real granddaughter?" The words tasted like bile, metallic and sour on her tongue. Brian answered immediately, his voice rough with amusement, "Kid, relax been in business with him for years. Hell, the whole fifth floor rooms are all mine, and the ten percent of all shots there have made him a nice healthy bank balance." His calloused fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his grin sharp-edged in the dashboard light. "He’d sooner torch his own place than lose that payout."

The hotel was in good shape better than she'd expected for something tucked away off a backroad. The brick facade was clean, the lobby lit warmly, and the elevator hummed smoothly as it ascended. Zane was already waiting when they got inside, lounging against the desk like he owned the place which, Emily realized with a slow blink, he technically did. His grin was all teeth, eyes sharp as they flicked over her, lingering just a second too long at the gap between her button-up and jeans where skin showed. "Brian, " he drawled, pushing off the desk with a lazy roll of his shoulders. "Brought a new star?"

Emily didn't miss the way Brian's hand settled on her shoulder, "My granddaughter, " he said, voice flat. Zane's grin widened, slow and knowing, but he just nodded toward the elevator. "Fifth floor's all yours. Cameras are set up new rigs, better resolution." His gaze slid back to Emily, assessing. "She know what she's in for?" Brian's fingers tightened briefly before letting go. "She knows."

Zane handed him three keys one a sleek black fob for the elevator to the fifth floor, the others old-fashioned brass for rooms 509 and 10. The metal was cool against Brian's palm, the weight familiar. Emily watched the exchange, her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat. Room 10 was always the warm-up, she realized. The testing ground. The thought sent a slow curl of heat through her stomach.

Brian pressed the brass key Five-ten into her palm as they stepped inside, his thumb brushing her wrist in silent reassurance. "Be outside my door by half ten don’t knock." The implication curled hot in her gut, her fingers tightening around the key as the elevator lurched upward.

Now at half ten she stood there nervous not of what was about to happen, but of someone coming out of one of the other rooms seeing her in a see-through nightie so short it covered nothing. The hallway air prickled against her exposed thighs, the lace hem barely grazing the swell of her ass as she hovered outside Brian’s door. Her nipples pebbled beneath the silk fabric, the chill raising gooseflesh along her arms despite the heat pooling between her legs.

Inside, she heard her cue a sharp moan muffled through the door, then the creak of bedsprings. The cameras would be rolling already: one angled at the door, another at the foot of the bed, the third catching the mirror’s reflection. Emily bit her lip, as she twisted the knob slowly, the click of the latch loud in the quiet hallway. Her bare soles padded across the threshold, toes curling against the plush carpet as the door swung shut behind her with a soft click. The room smelled of sweat and musk, the air thick with the rhythmic creak of the bedframe. She walked in with deliberate slowness hips swaying, the lace hem riding higher with each step until she reached the bed and settled on the left side, her ass facing the mirror where the third camera’s red light blinked. The sheets were rumpled where Brian lay sprawled.

She leaned forward, one hand braced on the mattress, her hair spilling over her shoulder as she murmured, "Let me help with that, Grandpa." As her hand made contact with his wrist lightning-quick, fingers curling around the flushed skin Brian's hand shot out to grab hers, squeezing hard enough to make her breath hitch. "We can't, " he ground out, voice ragged. "Last time was a mistake." His knuckles whitened around her wrist, tendons standing stark beneath sweat-slicked skin, but Emily just laughed low and throaty. "Was it?" she asked, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "you enjoyed it when I sucked your big cock, when my tight little pussy clenched around you, when I came on it?" Her fingers wrapped around him, squeezing just enough to make his hips jerk. "When you filled me full of your cum?" The question hung between them, thick as the musk clinging to the sheets. Brian groaned, his grip loosening on her wrist, on his own cock as his restraint unraveled.

Her palm slid over his slow, deliberate until his fingers twitched and fell away, yielding control. The moment her fingers replaced his, she twisted her wrist just so, thumb pressing against the slick underside in a way that made his breath stutter. Brian arched off the mattress with a bitten-off curse, his free hand fisting in the sheets as she stroked him from root to tip, her grip tightening at the head just like she'd learned he liked. The camera closest to the bed caught the exact moment his jaw went slack caught the tremor in his thighs as her thumb circled the swollen crown, smearing precum in slow, filthy spirals.

His left hand shot out suddenly, rough fingers hooking into the delicate silk of her nightie where it clung to her right breast. The fabric stretched taut, the sheer material doing nothing to hide the stiff peak of her nipple as he tugged her closer. Emily gasped half-surprise, half-pleasure as the silk gave slightly under his grip, the sensation of being caught between his fingers sending a jolt straight to her already-damp core. A glance at the mirror showed her reflection: the nightie riding up her thighs, the curve of her ass barely covered by the scandalously short hem, the way Brian's knuckles whitened against the fabric as he held her there, suspended between his touch and the ache building low in her belly.

For three agonizing seconds, he kept her there, his breath ragged against her shoulder, his grip tight enough to border on painful before abruptly letting go with a rough exhale. The silk snapped back against her skin with a faint sting, the sudden release making her sway slightly where she knelt beside the bed. "We shouldn't " Brian rasped, but his hand was already moving downward, skimming the lace hem of her nightie where it barely covered her thighs. His fingertips brushed the soft skin there, feather-light, before digging in with sudden pressure, dragging her flush against him.

Emily didn't hesitate she ducked her head, lips parting just before she took him deep, her tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock as she dragged her mouth upward in one slow, deliberate stroke. The taste of him salt and musk and something faintly bitter flooded her senses, mingling with the sharp scent of sweat clinging to his thighs. Brian groaned, low his hips jerking off the mattress as she hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard before pulling back just enough to swirl her tongue around the head.

The good moral grandfatherly act was over his fingers tangled in her hair now, pulling just hard enough to make her whimper around him, the sting sharp and perfect against her scalp. She hollowed her cheeks tighter, saliva slicking her chin as she took him deeper, gagging slightly when the head hit the back of her throat. Brian hissed through clenched teeth, his thigh muscles twitching beneath her hands where they gripped him for balance. "Oh fuck, " he gritted out, hips jerking shallowly into the wet heat of her mouth. "Who am I kidding " His voice broke as she swallowed around him, the vibrations rippling through his cock. "I want you. Christ, I want you."

She pulled off with a smirk, lips swollen and glistening, the good moral act of hesitation long forgotten. It had made her so wet the way he'd pretended to resist, the way his knuckles whitened on the sheets like he was clinging to decency by his fingernails. Her fingers slid between her own thighs now, finding her bare pussy already slick. Two fingers pressed in easily, curling just right as she moaned around the taste of him still on her tongue. Brian watched, transfixed, as she dragged her fingers out, glistening, and brought them to her lips, licking them clean with a slow, obscene swipe of her tongue.

Then she moved quick, decisive crawling up the bed to straddle him before he could think to stop her. His cock twitched against her thigh, thick and flushed, the vein pulsing visibly along its length. Emily leaned forward, pressing her palms flat against his chest, her nipples grazing his skin through the damp silk as she rocked back, letting the swollen head catch against her folds. The tease was exquisite the way she lifted just enough to deny him entry, the slick glide of her arousal smearing hot along his shaft as she rolled her hips in slow, torturous circles.

Brian flipped 45 degrees to his right, rolling her onto her back with a grunt, her head now facing the mirror the reflection catching the exact moment his hips hitched forward, his cock dragging wet and obscene against her inner thigh before he slid off the bed on his knees, pulling her to the edge of the mattress. Her knees hooked over his shoulders, the sudden drag of sheets against her bare ass sending a shiver up her spine.

His mouth worked from her clit to her ass in slow licks, each pass deliberate the flat of his tongue pressing just hard enough against her folds to make her thighs jerk, then retreating to trace the tight furl of her asshole with the very tip. Emily gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets, the alternating sensations like voltage sharp, then molten, then sharp again. The third time his tongue circled her ass, he paused to exhale warm breath against the wetness there, watching her squirm before diving back to her clit with sudden suction that had her arching off the bed with a choked cry.

Brian didn't let up, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs to keep her spread wide as he dragged his tongue lower again, this time pressing insistently against her asshole until the muscle gave slightly under the pressure. Emily's moan was ragged, her hips rolling instinctively both seeking more and trying to escape the overwhelming intensity of it. Her hands flew to her own breasts, fingers digging into the soft flesh through the damp silk of her nightie, squeezing hard enough to make her breath hitch. The fabric clung to her stiff nipples, the friction delicious against her palms as she rolled them between her fingers, matching the rhythm of Brian's tongue fucking shallowly into her ass.

"Oh fuck Grandpa " The title spilled from her lips unbidden, voice cracking on the last syllable as his tongue pressed deeper, the wet heat of it sending electric jolts up her spine. Her thighs trembled violently, one foot braced against the bedframe for leverage as she arched into her own touch, her fingers pinching a nipple harshly through the fabric. The dual sensations the rough pleasure-pain of her own hands and the obscene intimacy of his tongue working her open made her vision blur at the edges, her stomach tightening with impending release.

Then his mouth was gone, replaced abruptly by three thick fingers pressing into her asshole with slow, relentless pressure. Emily gasped half-protest, half-pleasure her body instinctively clenching around the intrusion before yielding all at once, the stretch sharp and dizzying. Brian’s lips crashed back down onto her clit with bruising force, his tongue flicking rapidly against the swollen bud as his fingers curled upward inside her, finding that tender spot that made her vision whiten. The sudden double assault ripped a ragged cry from her throat her hips jerking wildly between the twin sensations of his mouth sucking hard and his fingers pressing deeper with each shallow thrust.

She came so fast it stole her breath, her back arching off the mattress as her thighs clamped around his head involuntarily. The orgasm ripped through her in violent waves her clit throbbed against his tongue, her ass clenched around his fingers, her toes curled so tight they cramped. Brian didn’t let up, his tongue lapping at her through the aftershocks until she whimpered, oversensitive, her fingers scrabbling weakly at the sheets.

Once she finished, he moved quick, efficient hauling her up the bed by the hips and flipping her onto her hands and knees before she could catch her breath. The sudden shift left her dizzy, her elbows sinking into the mattress as he settled behind her, his calloused palms dragging up the backs of her thighs. The silk nightie bunched at her waist, leaving her bare to the humid air and to the unblinking gaze of the camera angled at the foot of the bed.

She saw in the mirror as he got behind her his reflection sharp in the polished glass, sweat glistening along his shoulders as he guided himself between her thighs. "Please Grandpa, fuck my pussy." The words dripped from her lips like honey, saccharine and deliberate, her hips canting back to meet him in a slow, teasing grind. She felt the thick head of him catch against her slick folds, dragging upward in a slow, torturous glide that left her clit throbbing in its wake. His cock rubbed her pussy with deliberate friction, the ridge of him catching against her swollen lips before sliding higher higher until the blunt pressure against her asshole made her gasp.

Brian exhaled sharply through his nose, his hands tightening on her hips as he pressed forward slow, inexorable the tight ring of muscle yielding millimeter by millimeter. The stretch burned, a white-hot ache that radiated through her pelvis as her body resisted before surrendering all at once with a wet, obscene pop. Emily’s fingers clawed at the sheets, her breath coming in ragged bursts as he held still, letting her adjust to the intrusion his cock impossibly thick inside her, the fullness bordering on painful. She could feel the way his pulse thundered against her inner walls, the way his thighs trembled against the backs of hers as he fought to stay still.

He leaned down then, his breath hot against her ear, the rasp of his unshaven cheek scraping her temple. "You sure about this?" he murmured, voice rough with restraint. "You know they want your ass fucked hard and very rough. "Do it, " she breathed, pressing back against him. Before he could demand she talk dirty before the word "beg" could leave his lips she arched her spine, grinding herself deeper onto him. "I know, " she whispered, voice cracking. "I know exactly what you're going to do to me."

With that he pulled out, slamming into her with a near inhuman pace each thrust a piston of muscle and sweat, her body jerking forward with the force of it. The wet slap of skin on skin drowned out her gasp, the bedframe screeching against hardwood in protest. Emily's vision blurred at the edges, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the tangled sheets as the brutal rhythm stole her breath. She could feel the stretch in places untouched before the burning drag of him inside her, the way her body yielded and resisted in equal measure, the sharp pleasure-pain of it sparking up her spine like live wires.

She begged not for mercy, but for more, her voice cracking on syllables that dissolved into moans. The words were filth, raw and unfiltered how she loved his cock splitting her open, how she wanted him deeper, harder, how she'd dreamed of this since the first night she'd heard him listening. Her hips jerked back to meet each punishing thrust, her thighs slick with sweat and the mess between them. The mirror caught her reflection mouth slack, eyes glazed, the silk nightie clinging to her breasts where they bounced with every movement.

Brian stopped suddenly, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises, his cock buried deep inside her. He pulled her upright against his chest, her back pressed to his front, and lifted the nightie off over her head slowly so slowly the fabric catching on her wrists before he tossed it aside. The cool air prickled her sweat-damp skin, her nipples hardening instantly as his palms slid up her stomach to cup her breasts. His thumbs circled her nipples with rough precision, the callouses dragging deliciously against the sensitive peaks.

Then he pushed her forward suddenly, her arms yanked straight back as he pinned her wrists between his shoulder blades, the angle forcing her spine into a sharp arch. His hips snapped forward with that same relentless pace, each thrust punching the breath from her lungs as her body rocked violently against the mattress. "You like that, Grandpa?" she gasped, the words slurred with pleasure, her thighs trembling where they bracketed his. "You like fucking your granddaughter's tight little ass?" The obscenity dripped from her lips like honey, saccharine and deliberate, pitched just loud enough for the mics.

Her reflection in the mirror was a study in debauchery breasts swaying violently with each impact, nipples peaked and flushed, the silk nightie long gone to reveal sweat-slick skin gleaming under the bedroom light. The cameras caught every detail: the way her lips parted around screams, the tremors racing down her thighs, the slick mess between them where his cock pistoned in and out with brutal efficiency. His grip tightened on her wrists, fingers digging into the delicate bones as he ground out, "Louder, " the command rough against her ear, his breath scalding the side of her neck.

She obeyed, her voice breaking as she panted, "God yes Grandpa, your cock feels so good splitting me open, " the words tumbling out between ragged gasps. The stretch burned deliciously, her muscles fluttering around him in involuntary pulses as he bottomed out with a grunt, his hips flush against her ass. She could feel the thick vein along his shaft dragging against her inner walls, the ridge of his cockhead catching on that tender spot with every withdrawal, sending electric jolts up her spine. The mirror reflected his expression jaw clenched, eyes full with hunger, sweat beading along his temples as he watched her breasts bounce in time with his thrusts.

He pushed her chest flat to the bed, his calloused palm pressing between her shoulder blades as he pinned her arms down at her sides no leverage, no escape, just the raw, bruising force of his hips driving into her. The angle was obscene, her ass tilted high, his cock splitting her open with each brutal thrust that made the headboard slam against the wall in a staccato rhythm. "Tell me, " he growled, his voice graveled with exertion, his fingers digging into her wrists hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. Emily gasped, her cheek pressed into the sweat-damp sheets, her words slurring into the fabric: "Ruin me, Grandpa fuck your big cock into my ass till I can't walk tomorrow."

The slap of skin echoed louder than her moans, each impact sending a jolt through her pelvis that bordered on pain the kind that blurred into pleasure so sharp it stole her breath. She could feel the stretch, the way her body resisted and yielded in equal measure, her inner muscles fluttering around him in involuntary pulses as he bottomed out with a grunt. The mattress dipped beneath his knees, the springs protesting as he leaned forward, his chest pressing hot against her back, his teeth scraping her shoulder blade. "Dirty fucking girl, " he hissed, his breath scalding her skin, "taking your grandpa’s cock like this."

His rhythm stuttered once, twice before he stilled abruptly, buried to the hilt. The groan that tore from his throat was raw, guttural, his fingers digging into her hips hard enough to leave bruises as he came. She felt it the hot spill of him inside her, the way his cock twitched against her inner walls with each pulse, the wet heat flooding her in thick, rhythmic waves. His forehead pressed between her shoulder blades, his breath ragged against her damp skin as he shuddered through the aftershocks, his hips jerking shallowly against her ass.

Emily whimpered, oversensitive and aching the stretch still burned, her muscles fluttering weakly around him as he slowly pulled out with a wet, obscene sound. The sudden emptiness made her gasp, her thighs trembling where they bracketed his. Brian collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving, sweat gleaming along the planes of his stomach as he reached blindly for the remote under the pillow. He gave it 20 seconds just long enough for the cameras to capture the way her asshole remained gaped, glistening with the evidence of him before pressing stop with a decisive click.

She woke at noon the next day to sunlight painting stripes across her bare thighs, the sheets tangled around her hips like an afterthought. Grandpa Brian was already seated at the foot of the bed, laptop balanced on his knees, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the trackpad. "Just finished the upload a few hours ago." Emily stretched, wincing at the dull ache between her legs, the memory of last night sharp as the scent of sex still clinging to the room.

Emily blinked, her throat dry. "Wait already?" The words came out hoarse, her fingers twitching against the sheets. Brian smirked, turning the screen toward her the thumbnail alone made her stomach flip: her own reflection splayed across the mattress, face contorted in pleasure, his shadow looming over her. "Had help this time, " he admitted.

He opened the video "Grandpa Ruined Granddaughter Ass 1." The screen loaded, five comments blinked into existence beneath the thumbnail. TatersForLife69: *never seen an ass take it that rough.* DaddyIssues420: *that mirror angle though holy shit.* The fifth comment posted by an account named DaddyKnows stood out: *look at that reflection in the mirror Grandpa would of carried on even if she begged his to stop he wanted that ass ruined.* Brian chuckled, low and satisfied, his thumb hovering over the like button.

Later DaddyKnows commented again: telling her how he and his 4 brothers would teach her to please five twelve-inch cocks at once. Private massages opened DaddyKnows Massage scrolled across the screen you sure she can handle five 12ince cocks. He taps the reply box fingers hovering over the keys Brian typed She can take it then deleted it replacing it with She'll fucking beg for it. The reply came faster than expected DaddyKnows, 2 weeks from now. She can wear anything she wants. Just three requests: ponytail tight enough to yank, blindfolded before she walks in and it can't go on the site. The last stipulation hit Brian like a bucket of cold water his fingers froze mid-tap. No footage meant no profit, just sweat and effort with nothing to show but the memory. Brian replies one hundred thousand and that was the start of negotiations.