August99

GRANNY GOBBA SLOBBA SHOCK!!

By our Homosexuality Reporter, Richard Littleone

This story contains strong language and adult material.

"You'll have to be quick," Granny announced, reclining on pink catalogue bedlinen bedecking a large but clearly flatpack Four Poster bed. "I've only got a 15 minute break, then it's the Third Tank Regiment."

In a little-known footnote to the Kosovo Peace Agreement, a crucial section of the deal was the offer of Granny to President Milosevic and his Generals and Troops, as a change from masturbation. At first somewhat reluctant, Vice-Admiral Granny (for that is her title) has now warmed to her duties with enthusiasm.

She lit up a cigarette from a box on the bedside table. "YUGO" it said on the packet. "For Real Men." "Yeucch these are evil!" she coughed. "You havenae got a Lambert and Butler on you have you?"

After weeks of telephoned negotiation, Granny kindly agreed to speak exclusively to The Sun, the paper that now supports whatever's going best at the time.

The Sun: So what's the new job like? "Frankly it's pretty boring! Let's face it, when you've had one horny 19 year-old squaddie with eight thick Balkan inches, who hasn't seen a woman for four months, apart from maybe raping a few busty farm-girls - then you've had them all, honey. And I have."

Have what? "Had them all." She reached under the bed then, and slipped on a tight blue tank-top which clung teasingly, showing her tiny breasts off to perfection - recently-ravished nipples poking seductively through the fabric. I'm not ashamed to say I could feel my manhood stirring under my laptop. "Sometimes I can't get them out the damn bed till they've shot off six or seven rounds," she explained. "And there's nothing automatic about it, I can assure you."

Well, what did it feel like, being a Military Supply? "Oh, it's entirely humanitarian, of course," she explained. "Nothing in it for me - not a damn thing, darling - it's just that somebody's got to do it. Keep the peace, you know - that sort of thing."

There was a soft knock on Granny's boudoir door, closely followed by a strapping young Kosovo Reservist. Six feet tall, and almost as broad, he had a blue spiders web tattooed on his bull neck, reaching up and over the back of his shaved head. Even the looseness of his combats couldn't hide the size of his family allowance book. It was an encyclopaedia, open at the page.

This stud nervously approached Granny's bed, and handed her a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates. "Sorry to disturb you, Admiral, but El Presidente wishes to visit you now," he stuttered, reddening. Clearly, fucking and killing were this young man's more natural metier than being manservant.

"Eeeek!" Granny gasped. "It's him, Big SM himself! Listen honey, you gotta run." But I didn't. Couldn't. Just sat there transfixed, like a rabbit in front of a Chieftain Tank. Of course I should leave - rumour had it that Milosevic didn't take kindly to Westerners invading his private space, but on the other hand, even just a few words with the Big Man himself would be a world scoop to beat all others. Here, in his Palace, just one metre away from his most favoured courtesan.

I sat and waited, while Granny took a quick slug of neat vodka, before squirting some Gold Spot Spray into her tender mouth. "He hates the taste of squaddies cum," Granny confided.

Milosevic himself strode in then, wearing nothing but a purple silk dressing gown with scrambled eggs on the shoulders, Air Force One neatly embroidered on the breast pocket, and the biggest tent pole I've ever seen poking under the delicate fabric.

"Darlink!" Granny shrieked. "Is that a SCUD MISSILE you've got there, or are ya just pleased ta SEE me?"

I was so fucking hard myself now, that my laptop slipped off my moist and sticky lap, and crashed onto the floor. The batteries fell out the back. O My GOD what was happening?

With one stride Milosevic was at Granny's bed, where with an almighty rip from his massive hands Granny's tanktop was history. He threw himself over her, smothering her mouth with his tortured kisses.

"Ooooohhh that tickles," Granny giggled, as his moustache reached the parts his lips were missing. I could see her slim young body shaking in spasms of pre-orgasmic delight. Then he moved down to her swanlike neck, and after the briefest of detours to her tiny shell-like ear, Slobodan eventually touched down on her right breast, cupping it in his beefy paws, and purring in manly delight at her celestial orb. He plunged, then, engulfing her maraschino peaks with his hot, hard, hungry, manly lips.

I sat there, gaping, but it was as if he had forgotten me. Too excited to think straight, yet too afraid to masturbate, in case I became victim of his infamous "ethnic cleansing." The risk was just too great.

But, dudes, it wasn't like that. After an eternity on Granny's right nipple, he suddenly turned, cupped her left bosom, and winked at me evilly. "You limey bastard want a bit?" he snarled.

You betcha!! Way to go!!! I leapt from my chair, jumped out my Jean Paul Gaultier threads, and lunged at Granny's other nipple, eagerly and hungrily sucking it into my innocent lips. Shortly after, Granny just passed out, grinning in rictus from ear to ear. As she whimpered gently, I could just make out the words.....Sam.... Gwen.... Peter... Omygod...

But no way was I stopping, dudes - Slobo and I cheek by jowl working over Granny's priceless nips. Now and again I tried to rationalise, to pull myself together, and recognise that I was just millimetres away from the most powerful man in the East, the Warlord of the Balkans, the very Sultan of Sodomy, incarnate.

And then I felt his huge finger poking into my rectum. "You want a leetle beet of what I've got, white boy?" he purred. "I think zis Granny, she is all fucked out right now. Why not let me give you somzing to tell the boys back home about?"

I thought about it for one whole second! "Yes!" I screamed. "Fuck me till I beg for mercy, then still don't stop!" And a moment later I felt something bigger, much bigger than his finger - something love-packed yet at the same time irredeemably evil - entering my anus, and I knew that from that moment on, life and my back passage would never be the same.

(Continued tomorrow, only in your Super Currant Bun. The paper that supports safe sex.)

(We have to stop it there, for reasons of decency - magnificat. Hope you enjoyed the fun as much as I enjoyed writing it. And, again - one million thanks to Stuart for being such a good sport. Some day when we're all very famous and very rich, Chat Show producers will phone you up.)