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#Post#: 68702--------------------------------------------------
back to jenkins
By: Grod Date: December 20, 2024, 1:13 am
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"What the fuck is your problem, you little shit?" Billy Buster's
mother's shrill voice pierced the quiet afternoon, echoing
through the thin walls of their run-down apartment. Billy rolled
his eyes, tossing the empty beer can at the wall, watching it
clatter to the floor. "Get your ass in here now!"
Billy, a lanky seventeen-year-old with greasy hair and a
perpetual smirk, sauntered into the kitchen, his jeans hanging
low on his hips, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "What, Ma?
You're always bitchin' about something."
Mrs. Jenkins, his eighty-year-old neighbor with a stern look
that could curdle milk, had had enough of Billy's shenanigans.
She'd seen him break windows, steal from the local market, and
harass the other residents in the building. The noise from his
apartment was the last straw. She stepped into the hallway, her
sturdy cane tapping against the worn carpet with determination.
"Young man, you will show some respect to your mother and the
people around you, or I will personally make sure you regret
it!" she said, her voice surprisingly firm despite her age.
Billy snickered, looking her up and down. "What're you gonna do,
old bag? Knit me to death?"
Mrs. Jenkins' eyes narrowed into slits. "You're going to learn
some manners, Billy Buster," she said, her voice as sharp as the
knitting needles she clutched in her gnarled hands. "You've been
causing trouble for everyone in this building for long enough."
With surprising agility, she hobbled towards him, her cane
acting as a shepherd's crook to guide him into her apartment.
The scent of mothballs and lavender filled the air as they
entered. Billy's smirk faded, replaced by a hint of fear as he
realized she was not joking. She pointed to a chair in the
corner, the fabric faded from years of use. "Take your pants
down and bend over," she ordered, her voice unwavering.
Billy's cheeks flushed a deep red, his heart pounding in his
chest. "What the fuck are you on about, you crazy old hag?" he
spat, trying to sound tougher than he felt. But the tremor in
his voice gave him away. Mrs. Jenkins' expression remained
unchanged, a mix of anger and resolve.
"You've been a bad boy, Billy," she said, her voice firm but
oddly calm. "And bad boys need to be taught a lesson." She
stepped closer, the knitting needles still clutched in her hand.
Billy's eyes went wide with horror as he realized she wasn't
bluffing. He fumbled with his belt, the leather jingling as he
unbuckled it with shaking hands.
As he pushed his jeans down, his heart raced. The cigarette fell
from his trembling lips, forgotten in the face of his impending
punishment. Mrs. Jenkins took a seat in the chair, her eyes
never leaving Billy's cowering form. "Bend over," she repeated,
her tone leaving no room for argument. He complied, his heart
thumping against his ribs like a caged bird.
The first smack was swift and painful, the flat of her hand
connecting with his bare ass with a loud crack. Billy yelped,
his pride bruised more than his skin. "You're gonna get it now,"
she said, her voice low and steady. Another smack followed, and
then another, each one stinging more than the last. The sound
echoed through the small apartment, a rhythmic punctuation to
his protests.
The sharp sting grew, his skin reddening under her firm hand.
With each slap, Billy felt a strange mix of anger, fear, and
something else—something he hadn't felt in a long time: the
burning need to submit. His cheeks clenched, his cock began to
swell against his will. He bit down on the fabric of the chair,
muffling his protests.
Mrs. Jenkins' arm never tired, her hand landing in precise,
rhythmic strikes. The room grew warm with the smell of sweat and
humiliation. Billy's eyes watered, his nose running. He
squirmed, his ass cheeks jiggling with every smack. He could
feel the heat from his cheeks spreading up his back, his face a
mask of embarrassment.
But as the spanking continued, Billy's protests grew weaker, his
voice hoarse. He noticed that his cock had grown rock hard,
pressing against his stomach. The pain was giving way to a
strange, almost pleasurable ache that was quickly becoming
unbearable. Mrs. Jenkins' hand stopped, the only sound in the
room now the ragged breaths of both of them.
"You've had your punishment," she said, her voice softer now.
"But I think there's something else we need to take care of."
She leaned forward, her ample breasts straining against her
blouse. With a deftness that belied her years, she unhooked her
bra, revealing breasts that were surprisingly full and firm.
Billy's eyes widened as she took his throbbing cock in her hand,
her grip firm but gentle. "Now, let's see if we can get this
little problem of yours under control," she murmured, stroking
him slowly.
The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt before. His body
responded instinctively, his hips thrusting forward slightly as
she worked her hand up and down his shaft. He could feel the
pre-cum beading at the tip, his arousal growing by the second.
Mrs. Jenkins leaned over, her breasts hanging tantalizingly
close. "You're going to milk me," he whispered, his voice a mix
of shock and need.
With a knowing smile, Mrs. Jenkins pressed her breasts together,
creating a soft, warm valley for his cock to rest in. She began
to squeeze them around him, her movements slow and deliberate.
Billy groaned, his body trembling as she worked him closer to
climax. He felt her breath hot on his neck, her perfume mingling
with the scent of sweat and fear that hung heavy in the air. The
friction of her breasts against his sensitive skin was
exquisite, sending waves of pleasure through his body.
Her grip tightened, and she began to move faster, her breasts
bouncing with each pump. Billy's hips jerked in response, his
breath coming in short gasps. He could feel his orgasm building,
his balls tightening. He reached out, his hand gripping the
chair for support as the pleasure became almost too much to
bear. Mrs. Jenkins' eyes never left his face, watching his
expressions with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity.
The tension grew unbearable, and with a final, desperate thrust,
Billy came. His seed spurted out, hot and sticky, coating Mrs.
Jenkins' breasts and the fabric of the chair. She didn't flinch,
just kept her rhythm steady until he was spent, panting and
trembling. Then, she leaned back, her breasts glistening with
his cum.
For a moment, they both sat there, Billy's body still quivering
from the intense release, his mind racing. He didn't know what
to say, what to think. Mrs. Jenkins just sat there, watching him
with an unreadable expression. "Now," she said finally, "I think
you've learned your lesson."
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