Stiles and Grandpa Peter lay tangled on the bed, both panting heavily, the room thick with the musky scent of sex—sweat, cum, and her sweet juices mingling in the air like a forbidden perfume. Her porcelain body glistened, massive tits heaving, plump pink pussy leaking his thick load in slow dribbles down her thighs. Grandpa’s wrinkled chest rose and fell, his silver hair matted, his thick cock softening against her thigh, still shiny from their combined mess.

“Oh, my little flower,” he rasped, pulling her close for a deep kiss—tongues lazy and sloppy, tasting the remnants of their depravity. “You fuck like a dream… Grandpa’s never felt so alive.”