1 comments/ 15839 views/ 0 favorites Finding God By: renaissanceman3 Reverent Mervin had strong beliefs. Ultra-conservative, fundamentalist, all of life's instructions could be found literally in the Bible, etc. Really he was an insufferable man, arrogant, proud, judgmental, intolerant, pushy, unhappy. Angry and boring. He was 57 years old, 240 pounds, with a fat hairy belly and a sweaty flaccid body, balding, with a pasty complexion. He was rigidly puritanical. A dull, tedious life, loveless marriage to a woman whose decades-long tolerance of him had made her far grayer and duller than her years. As he pulled out of his Bible-thumping conference meeting in this strange new city, he noticed someone at the side of the road. It was a young woman, maybe 19 years old, very short, very skinny, but with long golden blonde hair down to her knees. She was facing the other way, and was wearing a curious backpack that was the shape of a cross, lit up with reflective material so it glistened silver in the car's headlights. She turned to look at his car as he approached, and he could see that she had an angelic, pristine face, no make-up except almost obscenely garish, very red lipstick. Her breasts were huge, massively out of proportion to her otherwise petite, waifish frame. Something came over him. Ordinarily he would curse such a person, and speed off with an air of superiority, perhaps even calling the police to complain about hitchhikers on the highway. But this time, he was strangely compelled to slow down and stop the car. She walked over to the open window on the passenger's side, and leaned into the car. "Would you take me home, sir?" she asked in a soft, sweet, melodious purr. He unlocked the door, wordlessly, and she climbed into the car. Strangely, they had no conversation. And strangely, he knew what she was doing out on the street at this hour. He took her home. Not to her home, of course, but to his hotel room. Once inside, Mervin awkwardly went to the bathroom, leaving her standing alone in the main part of the suite. He seemed in a daze, and was trembling a bit. As he looked in the mirror he was conscious of how fat and repulsive he must seem to almost any woman, especially a young beauty. It was unusual for him to have a moment of self-reflection. When he left the bathroom, he found the girl naked on the bed, lying on her back, with her legs spread. Her long golden hair spread across the whole width of the king-size mattress. She had left the lights on brightly. "Fuck me now" she said, looking straight into his eyes, licking her lips. She moved her limbs and torso in an undulating, slow ballet. Her delicate feet arched, tensing up her skinny calves, then her toes massaged the sheets of the bed, as though she had a deep part of herself that she wanted scratched, but couldn't quite reach it. Her fingers rubbed her breasts and squeezed her nipples, pulling them until they were erect and almost sorely reddened from her pinches. Her biceps actually contracted visibly as she lifted the mass of her breasts, showing both the enormity of her breasts, but also the skinniness yet athleticism of her arms. He fumbled with his belt, and pulled off his pants and shirt. It was quite a scene, the fat hairy 57 year-old facing the young skinny 19 year-old. She had a flawless, perfect body, exposed completely to the sight of this truly ugly man. And she was actually inviting him to fuck her... When he was naked too, his fat cock stood erect, though he had a hard time seeing it due to his rolls of belly fat. He climbed on top of her, until his whole weight rested on hers, her tiny frame crushed under his. He wasted no time fumbling with his cock, and pushed it hard into her vagina. To his surprise it was lubricated already, with her own natural fluids, and she gasped when he entered her. She reached around to hug him and fondle his hairy, flabby back as he pushed and bucked into her. Her legs and feet entwined themselves around his, and she was so flexible that she could pull her feet back and massage his big, flabby ass with her toes. He moved to kiss her, and his big tongue slobbered into her mouth. To his surprise, she kissed back as passionately as he had ever been kissed. She seemed to like sucking the slobber out of his mouth and swallowing it with a smile. She had a special place in her heart for fat, flabby, middle-aged men, knowing that she could give them something that they would never have in nature except through a miracle. She knew he wouldn't last long, and gave his cock a tight, sensual massage with her cunt. She had a special gift of being able to control her vaginal muscles, and she tightened her grip like a vice, before releasing, rippling her cunt gently, throbbing a bit, then gripping down tightly again, in synchrony with her moans of genuine pleasure. She also had a gift of bringing herself to orgasm easily, and she let this happen again, her body flushing red as the waves of her orgasm washed over her. She had a hard time breathing with this fat brute humping rudely on top of her, thrusting his massive bulk like a whale up and down on her little body. If she didn't have such large breasts for a cushion, she might have broken a rib or two. But it was an exhilerating feeling for her. She liked to be fucked hard by fat hairy men. "Cum inside of me" she moaned. "Get me pregnant. Cum in me. Cum in me. Cum in me." It became a chant, a beg. With that he lost control and fired a massive load of cum deep into her vagina. It was the best orgasm he'd had in 40 years. Afterwards he fell asleep on top of her, his cock still deep in her cunt. She loved the feeling of his weight obsenely crushing her. She came numerous times with his huge sleeping body pinning her down, and her cunt actually awoke his cock twice more, and brought him to 2 more thunderous orgasms, all with him in a semi-conscious ecstatic delirium. When he awoke, he expected maybe to have his wallet missing, or worse... But when he awoke, it was morning, the dawn's rays beaming into his suite. His wallet was still on the countertop, untouched. A little note and a red rose were next to him on the bed. It simply said "Thank you. Love, Angel." He might've thought it was all a dream, except for the fact that there were strands of her long, golden hair on the bed, and a wet pool of cum on the sheets. There was a pleasant fragrance of an intoxicating perfume that still lingered on his skin, and he resisted the urge to shower for quite some time, savouring her scent on him. He was a changed man. No more fundamentalist preaching. He actually started doing things to help people. He took steps to better himself, and to treat his wife well; while they both openly took lovers, they also developed an enjoyable sexual rapport by themselves. He lost weight, and got in shape. But he could never find Angel again... Finding God Gordon, ah yes, my husband Gordon, The Reverend Gordon Isaac Barsmith BA (Hons) MST, the darling of the parish ladies. "Oh Mrs. Barsmith," they warble, "how wonderful it must be to be married to such a fine man, so youthful, so energetic, such a brilliant preacher, you must cherish him my dear, such a privilege to be married to a man like him." Stupid cows! It's true, at forty he still has youthful – one might almost say boyish - looks. You know the sort of thing; fair hair, bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks and an ingenuous appearance. Of course I know what they really mean, that they'd like to get him into their beds. If I'm right then all I can say is good luck because if my experience is anything to go by they're not going to get much satisfaction out of him. All right, I fell for it myself. I used to sit in the church listening to him preach thinking how wonderful it would be to be married to a man like that. My God if only I'd known then what I know now when he plighted his troth with me – his words not mine. I can hear him now; "Prudence, will you join me in double harness?" I didn't know what the hell he was talking about so he had to spell it out. He was thirty at the time and I was twenty two and we've been in "double harness" now for nine years. "Double harness" is a good description of the life of a parson's wife. The parishioners see themselves getting two for the price of one; I found that out quickly enough. You will of course be the superintendent of the Sunday school, do the flowers in church, be president of the Women's Guild, arrange the church cleaning roster, serve in the youth club canteen, organise the annual church fete, decorate the church at Christmas and Easter, and cherish our dear Reverend Gordon, and by the way, do you play the organ? I had them on that last one because I don't play the organ. That really annoyed them because they were stuck with old Miss Ants who is ninety two and manages about one right note in ten. Mind you the disillusionment really started even before we got married, it was just that naively I didn't see it for what it was at the time. "Felicity," he said, "I think you had better go on the contraceptive pill because we don't want any early pregnancies, do we?" Now that seemed odd because I'd heard him preach several times on the evils of contraception; "Setting up a barrier to frustrate God's purpose," was one phrase I can remember. He told me I'd better not go to the local chemist to get the prescription made up because someone might see me and what I was getting, and so I had to travel about twelve miles to the next chemist. If that didn't register at the time the honeymoon did. At the wedding people said stupid things like, "A match made in heaven." If only they knew! Believe it or not, being such a nice church girl I was still a virgin when we got married. I wasn't sure what to expect on our first night but I'd read about being in paradise and the earth moving and stuff like that. Not with Reverend Gordon though. It took him three nights to get it up and even then it was still too flaccid to break my hymen. I had to go to the doctor to get it cut and it took another two days before I'd healed sufficiently for him to get it into me. And that's another thing; in our nine years of married life we've never seen each other naked. True on that first night I felt incredibly shy about him seeing me undressed, but I thought he would very gently take off my nightdress and tell me how beautiful I was; not so. Whenever Gordon does try to "copulate" with me I'm still wearing my nightdress pulled up and his cock pokes out of the little slit in his pyjamas. He thinks it's unseemly for men and women to see each other naked and feel each other's naked flesh because it promotes excessive lustful desires, or so he says. I don't know why he bothers because often he goes off the boil before he manages to ejaculate – did I write "off the boil"? More like "off lukewarm." I'd never experienced any of those rapturous things I've read about in novels and magazines, and as for blissfully falling asleep in each others arms, if he does manage to come Gordon usually ends up farting and then turning his back on me. I often used to wonder if the stories about ecstatic sex were true, and if they are true, why, according to Gordon, does God condemn the very thing he must have intended when he created us? I mean, if someone invents sliced bread do they condemn people for eating sliced bread? I used to look at myself in the mirror. Before I married Gordon I was accounted a quite pretty and lively girl. When I was thirty one the image reflected back at me showed a woman with dark smudges under eyes, lacklustre hair, a slight stoop and a general air of melancholy. Of course there were no kids, because as Gordon said, "We are wedded to the Lord and nothing must get in the way of our total devotion to Him." Apparently children are a stumbling block when it comes to serving the Lord and that despite the many sermons Gordon has preached on the text, "Let the little children come to me." I sometimes wonder if Gordon really believes in the God he talks so much about. I sit through his services that have long grown dreary as far as I'm concerned. And that's another thing, I'm expected to attend them. It wouldn't matter if I was dying from pneumonia I'd still be expected to be there sitting in the front pew trying to look super pious. The parson's wife is expected to be there watching her husband at work, but why? Is a plumber's wife expected to watch her husband at work, or a dentist's wife? Strange isn't it? But what I was saying about Gordon and God; he starts the service by telling God who and what he is and what he's done. We then sing a hymn which says much the same thing. Is God so uncertain about who and what he is and what he's done that he needs to be reminded? Or perhaps he's so unsure of himself he needs the ego boost of being told how wonderful he is? After that, Gordon tells God all about our sins, but he also says that God knows more about our sins than we do, so why do we need to tell him about them if he knows already? But to be fair Gordon always adds that God has forgiven us. We get some readings from the bible mostly read by lay people who mumble, but it doesn't matter because nobody listens anyway. Somewhere along the line we have to pray for Mrs. Somebody or other's blisters or boils, and for poor people all around the world, and for the church hierarchy and sometimes for rain if there's a drought. I don't know whether Mrs. What's –her-name's blisters or boils got better because of the prayer, but I do know that there are still millions of poor people, the church hierarchy doesn't get any more efficient and I've yet to see it rain because of Gordon's prayers. Of course we get a sermon, but I've heard them so many times. In his study Gordon has along the top of his bookcases a lot of little cardboard boxes. These contain the sermons he wrote in the early days of his ministry, and the back of each box is marked Christmas, Easter, Advent, All Saints Day, Rotary, Free Masons, and so on. Now he just takes out one of these sermons for the forthcoming Sunday and preaches that. Most of them I've heard at least six times. To give him due credit Gordon does have a very flamboyant delivery and he does look elegant in his robes, and that's what gets the women in. They're mostly middle aged and constitute about ninety percent of the congregation. Secretly I've always wanted God to give me some assurance that he does exist, but it seems that's asking too much. Well that's how things stood with me at age thirty two and I saw that as my fate until the day when, as Gordon would put it, "I am taken up to the Lord." How little we know of what can be in store for us; what peo0le or events can wander across our path and change the direction of our life. * * * * * * * * What was in store for me came in the person of Hugo Kaesler. Hugo was a theological student sent to our parish for twelve months of what was called "Practical Training." What that meant was that Gordon was supposed to teach him the trade - God help the poor lad – if there is a God. For me Hugo came into my suffocating life like a breath of fresh air. I know it's not fashionable these days to call a young man beautiful. You may say he is sexy, a hunk, even attractive, but not beautiful. Girls no longer want beautiful Orpheus with his lute, they want the sweaty pop singer, the shaven headed tattooed gorilla, and the dirtier and more bodily odoriferous the better. Yet I can think of no more suitable word to describe Hugo than "beautiful." He was tall, slender with features of almost heartbreaking perfection such as a classical sculptor might have produced. His eyes were dark, his hair black and fitted him as a close fitting cap might have done. He was the very opposite physically to fair haired Gordon. He was, as he put it, "Into Freudian psychology," and I claim that's what changed my life. Hugo had been with us about a month and I'd noticed him taking a close interest in me; I don't know why he should have been interested in a frump like me. One day when I was cleaning the church he came in and sat in a pew looking at me. After a while he stood and came over to me and said, "Felicity you're very depressed." Well that was the truth and at last someone had noticed. I plumped down on one of the pews and started to cry. Out it all came – well a lot of it. The bloody church, bloody Gordon, bloody God and his two offsiders; on and on I went while Hugo sat beside me listening. It was the first time in years that anyone one had really listened to me, and by the time I'd finished there were two soaked handkerchiefs, mine and Hugo's. After I'd quietened Hugo said, "There's a lot of shit in your head Felicity and you need to get it out." I told him he was right but I didn't know how to get it out, and if I did and Gordon found out he'd go berserk because after all a lot of the shit he'd put in my head. Hugo said something about helping me and that Gordon needn't know. I asked Hugo how he could help me and he said just by listening as I talked. That's how it began. Often we'd just sit in the church, or at other times when Gordon was away at one of his endless conferences, seminars, consultations or whatever they were, we used his study. Bit by bit it all came out including the really intimate stuff. Hugo said that was fine because we all get sexually frustrated from time to time. I pointed out that I was sexually frustrated all the time; he made no comment about that but he looked thoughtful. Nearly everyday we had our talk and this went on for about a couple of months. Hugo said it was wonderful practise for when he took up a parish of his own and had to counsel people. That helped a lot because I didn't want to think I was selfishly taking up his time to no purpose. There's something I think is called "Transference," and that's what happened to me; I started to imagine myself in love with Hugo. That of course isn't supposed to happen to a parson's wife because once married she is supposed to be above such sinful things as noticing a good looking guy. Supposed to or not I was noticing Hugo and wondering what it would be like to be married to him, or if not married what it would be like to...well you know what I mean. It was one day when Gordon was away at one of his conferences and I happened to be dusting what is called "The first aid room." This was a small room built on to the side of the church. It had a first aid box, a couple of chairs, a table and a bed for people who felt faint to lie on. As I dusted and tidied Hugo walked in and sat on one of the chairs. He looked at me for a few moments and then said, "I know what your problem is Felicity." "What?" "You have an overdeveloped superego." "A what?" He hesitated for a moment and then said, "It's the part of you that controls your behaviour, the part that parents, society, the law and religion impose on you to make you conform. You've had so much of that garbage dumped on you can hardly live your life." "Oh really, so what do I have to do?" "We have to set your id free." "Do we, what's an id?" "That's the instinctive part of you, it's where you're primitive instincts and energies boil away. It's like a boiler and if it doesn't find a way to let off steam it blows up." "You mean I'm going to blow up?" Hugo laughed and said, "Not physically, but emotionally. What we have to do is get rid of your inhibitions. You told me that you and Hugo have never been naked in each other's presence; do you want to be naked in his presence?" "I don't really know, I mean, I might have wanted to once, but now I'm not sure, Hugo says it promotes lust." "There you are," Hugo said triumphantly, "he's reinforced you superego so that you're too inhibited to be naked in a man's presence." "Am I? Yes I suppose I am. Are you afraid to be naked in a woman's presence?" "Not at all," Hugo said evenly, but with a strange gleam in his eyes; "there's nothing more beautiful that a man and woman naked in each other presence." Thinking about fat old Mr. Plunket and his equally fat wife I wondered about that, but with a burst of inspiration I said, "You mean like Adam and Eve?" "Yes...yes I suppose so," Hugo said doubtfully. I recalled Gordon preaching about Adam and Eve, and as best I could recall I thought he said that Adam and Eve were sinful because they were naked, and they knew it was sinful and so when God came looking for them they covered themselves with fig leaves. I had read the Adam and Eve story and I never seen it like that, but I thought that because Gordon was theologically trained he knew what he was talking about. "Isn't it sinful for a man and a woman to be naked in each other's presence," I asked. Hugo laughed and said, "That's a lot of nonsense and shows just how much your superego is inhibiting you. Now I have no such problem," and too my amazement he proceeded to take his clothes off. I turned away covering my eyes and saying, "Stop it, you can't do that," but he could do that and did. "Turn and look at me," Hugo said softly. "I can't...I can't," I protested. "You can and will," he said sternly, "turn now and look at me." I remained still, but he came up behind me and turned me round. Saying, "Now look at me," he took my hands from my eyes, and there he was, stark naked. I'd thought him a beautiful young man before, but now...now...he was splendid: his wide shoulder, flat stomach, narrow hips and strong legs and...and...I could not say I'd ever really seen Gordon's penis, only felt it when he tried to get it into my vagina, but Hugo's, it was...was like...like...like a lighthouse, that's what came to mind, so long and thick with a large purple head and...and it looked so hard. "Now you," he said. "Me?" "Yes, take your clothes off." "I can't...I can't," I wailed. I think part of me was afraid of what he might think of my body when he saw it. "You will," he said, and started to undress me. I was wearing the cotton dustcoat I always wore when cleaning round the church, and he started to undo the buttons. Suddenly I felt less fearful of him seeing me naked but I was worried about someone coming in and catching us naked." "Stop it Hugo," I cried out, "Suppose someone comes in." He stood back for a moment, grinned and held up a key. The room had a lock on it and only Gordon and I had keys to it – it was my "duty" to unlock the door whenever the church or other church buildings were in use. When I'd come in that day I'd left the key in the lock outside, and Hugo had obviously removed it. He went to the door, put the key in the lock and turned it. "All safe now," he said, and returned to me. "Now, off with your clothes." He was so gentle as he undid the buttons that I made no more protest. "Let him see me naked," I thought, "and he'll know the worst." He removed the dustcoat and I stood there in my panties and bra. I thought that would be enough, but Hugo put his arms round me and unclipped my bra and pulled it off. He then tugged down my rather old-fashioned panties and stood back and looked at me. "Felicity," he murmured, "you're so beautiful." Me, beautiful? Never had Gordon said anything to me like that, and I didn't really believe Hugo. I'd often heard Gordon preach on the sins of the flesh, and the way he said it made is sound like the human body was the sinful flesh and ugly. "We'll go to hell for doing this," I howled. "No," Hugo said, "we're going to heaven and we wont have to wait until we die, I'm going to take you there right now." He pressed his body against mine and I felt his penis thrust between my legs and he started to slide it along my cleft. His hands closed over my breasts and he whispered, "You have lovely breasts Felicity." I was so disorientated hardly knew what was happening to me, but the next thing was me laying on the little bed and Hugo kneeling beside me kissing me in a way I'd never experienced before, with his mouth open and trying to get my mouth open, while his hand was fondling one of my breasts. I think my id must have found a way of letting go of at least one of my instincts because I opened my mouth and in went his tongue. Gordon had always said that the mouth was the most germ laden part of the human body, and when he kissed me it was always with primly pursed lips, and that only briefly. I didn't care if Hugo got my germs or me his, I only knew that his probing licking tongue and his breast fondling was causing strange things to happen in my genitals. He stopped kissing me and transferred his attention to one of my nipples, sucking and licking it while his hand went down to my genitals. A finger was stroking between the lips of my vulva and gradually pushing in. I knew that what we were doing was wicked - I knew because I was enjoying it and if you're enjoying something it's invariably accounted sinful, but I didn't care. Then Hugo was pulling my legs apart and lying between them. Something was pushing against the lips of my vulva and Hugo was saying, "Guide me in." I reached down and took the warm firm flesh of his penis into my hand and put its head against the entrance to my vagina. My id certainly seemed to know what to do when given the opportunity. He was in, slowly sliding deeper and deeper into me. Remembering the size of his penis I wondered if I could take it all and whether it would hurt, but my vagina seemed to expand as it clung round his manhood. I hadn't known it at the time, but I'd never lubricated properly with Gordon and if he did manage to get it in it always felt rough. Now I was wet, very wet and Hugo was sliding back and forth in me and it wasn't rough and didn't hurt a bit. I wanted him, I wanted him to go on for ever, but then something frightening started to happen. It was a strange sensation like a tingling in my genitals that grew and grew and I somehow knew it was going to hurt me. "Stop Hugo...stop...something's happening to me...please stop...I don't want...ah, ohwaa...stop...stop..." But he didn't stop, he went faster and harder and I clutched at him, pleading for him to stop. I once read an account of a woman having sexual intercourse and she said it was as if the earth trembled beneath her. But it wasn't the earth trembling beneath me, it was me trembling. The sensation grew and grew moving towards a climax and then I didn't want Hugo to stop. I convulsed and then started to thrust up against him, begging him not to stop. He had one hand at the base of my neck and the other under my buttocks and he was dragging me onto him. He give an enormous thrust into me, groaned, and I felt his sperm beat against the top of my vagina. Finding God I screamed out, "Oh God...oh God...don't stop...don't stop..." He didn't stop; he pumped what seemed like an endless stream of sperm into me, but it did come to an end and I felt him relax. I was weeping and wailing, "Oh my God...oh my God...it's so beautiful...don't stop...it's the most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me." I knew now the things I had been missing, the things of which I had been deprived. He didn't stop until I finally calmed down. We stayed for a long time, Hugo's penis still in me, and it had happened, I had found God, or he had found me. In the very act that Gordon had always been so suspicious of, I had found God, and he was beautiful. He was love, he was passion, he was orgasm, and he was fulfilment. Hugo was right, he had taken me to heaven without the need to die, but the odd thing was that at the height of my orgasm I could have died a happy woman. Past experience with Gordon suggested that Hugo would now get off me, fart, and if not turn his back on me since we couldn't lay side my side on the narrow bed, he would leave me. He did get off me but he didn't leave or fart. He said, "That was wonderful Felicity, do you feel less inhibited now?" Gordon often preached that we must not yield to tempation, but I had yielded to Hugo. I had surrendered to him, letting go of the inhibitions that had been imposed on me and finally been open to Hugo. I had given up the narrow confines that I had believed constituted my life. I had experienced love in the sexual act, discovered a self I had never known existed and at last met with God. I smiled and said, "Yes I do feel less inhibited, but I think I'd feel even less inhibited if we could do it again." He took my hand and raised me up, smiled and said, "Then let's go over to the parsonage, take a shower and then we can do some more un-inhibiting." We went out through the church and old Miss Kemp was praying at the altar rail. I wondered if the God she was praying to resembled the God I had met in the act of love with Hugo. I very much doubt it, for I knew hers to be a fierce God, a God who punished his creatures for doing the things he had created them to do. She looked up at us and for a moment the old self reared its ugly head. I felt the guilt I had been told I should feel if and when I strayed from "the paths of righteousness," but the feeling quickly passed. What I had experienced with Hugo had been too profound. We showered together, something that Gordon and I had obviously never done. It was wonderful; to touch and stroke each other's bodies as we washed. I was amazed that Hugo's penis could harden again so quickly and that my body was ready for him. * * * * * * * * We used my bed and although I had thought that I had experienced the most beautiful thing in my life and nothing could be more beautiful, I was wrong. I need hardly say that Gordon had never practiced cunnilingus with me. I of course I had never given him fellatio; how could I when I never knew people did such things with each other? I did not even know the words and Hugo had to tell me. Can you imagine my surprise when Hugo knelt between my thighs and then put my legs over his shoulders? I felt his fingers part the lips of my vulva. I looked down and saw his head move towards my genitals and his tongue began to lick me. I could have fainted from the sheer pleasure of it, it was so exquisite. His tongue found my clitoris and it was then I became frantic. That trembling again took control of my body and I started to weep and scream as he brought me to orgasm. He started to suck my clitoris and I clutched his head to me begging him not to stop. His arms were round my thighs as he struggled to keep in contact with my convulsing body. Then it was over, and we lay side by side, me gasping and Hugo's lower face wet with my sexual fluid. He had given me a wonderful orgasm but I wondered what I could do for him. I summoned up the courage to ask him, and he told me, but said I needn't do it if I didn't really want to. I suppose I was a bit tentative at first, just licking the purple head of his penis, but deciding to do the thing properly I ended up taking I right into my mouth and sucking. Hugo groaned and said he'd warn me when he was going to ejaculate. As I sucked I kept my eyes fixed on his face, watching the expressions of ecstasy flit across his face. It was wonderful to be able to give such pleasure to someone. Suddenly he cried our, "Coming...I'm coming..." I took no notice because I wanted to find out what it was like to have a man's semen in my mouth. He must have realised my intention because he put his hands behind my head and started to thrust into my mouth, and then it happened. Thick warm salty sperm was being spurted into my mouth, as Hugo cried out, "Oh God, God, God..." I tried to swallow his cum but it was too much for me, and when he had finished he took me in his arms and kissed me, tasting his own sperm. I had never realised that people could be so uninhibited but there was more to come. * * * * * * * * There now began the most wonderful time in my life. Hugo and I became regular lovers. He constantly took me to paradise, but as he said, "We go there together my darling." Often we used the first aid room for our assignations, but when Gordon was away at one of his conferences, we used the double bed. We seemed to be sexually insatiable and I knew I was in love with Hugo, deeply in love. I had never considered my self to be beautiful, but Hugo kept telling me I am beautiful, and in a strange way I felt beautiful because he made me feel beautiful. Gradually my sexual inhibition faded, and if I needed proof of Hugo's love for me I received it one afternoon while we were using the bed. We seemed to be extra passionate that afternoon and after he had ejaculated into me Hugo gave a deep sigh of contentment, he kissed my mouth, then raised himself to his knees and kissed each of my breasts in turn. Finally he kissed my vulva, and it seemed to me incredible. . The thought of him licking my genitals while it was still dripping with his semen and my love fluid almost drove me mad. I moved my hips to push against his lips and probing tongue and I came almost immediately, crying his name until the spasm passed. It seemed to me an amazing act of love and afterwards we lay side by side in silence for a while, and then softly I said, "Why are you such a wonderful lover, Hugo?" He didn't answer because he was asleep. So I said, "I love you my darling, sleep well," and then I closed my eyes, knowing I was loved. * * * * * * * * Hugo had been appointed to the parish for twelve months, and for nine of those months he had been my lover. His time in the parish was coming to an end and there was no knowing where he would be after that. He had released me from my sexual inhibitions, but what was to become of me after he was gone? I probably had sufficient self-confidence to get my self another lover, but it was Hugo I wanted. As usual it was Hugo who took the lead. One night when Gordon was once more away from home we had just finished making love and Hugo said, "Leave Gordon and marry me." "I...I can't," I stammered. "If I left Gordon and divorced him it would ruin both your careers." "Why?" Hugo asked mildly. "The Church...divorce...its sinful...and...and..." Hugo laughed and said, "My darling Felicity, you're still back in the dark ages, don't you realise how things have changed?" "How...how have they changed?" "There are any number of divorced and remarried clergy around these days. We're ordaining gays, male and female, and some are living in open relationships in their parishes." He laughed again and said, "It wouldn't surprise me if some time in the future we don't have a lesbian Archbishop of Canterbury. "You're joking Hugo," I protested, "Tell me you're joking." "I am not," he said decisively. "You know your husband is as bad as you when it comes to keeping up with the twenty first century." "What do you mean...what about Gordon...?" "Felicity, haven't you realised, I feel so sorry for Gordon." "Why, because we're lovers?" "No...no, not that, you really haven't realised...? " "Realised what Hugo?" I said, starting to feel irritated. Hugo sighed and said, "I suppose I'd better tell you; he's gay." "Gay...how do you know?" Hugo smiled and said, "Because soon after I came here he tried it on with me." I suppose I could understand that because, as I have said, Hugo is an extremely attractive man." "Felicity," Hugo said, "haven't you ever wondered about all those conferences and things Gordon always seems to be going to?" "What do you mean; seems to be going to?" "Have you ever checked on those gatherings?" "No, why should I?" "Because if you had you might have learned that most of them never existed, he's been going to where he can get his sexual satisfactions." I suppose I was out of date and still had some of the old inhibitions because I was aghast. If Hugo was right then I'd been sleeping with a homosexual for all those years, but at least it explained why Gordon was such a failure as a lover." "Look," Hugo said, "you might as well face the fact that Gordon married you for reasons of respectability. The pity of it is that now he could have his gay lover living with him. If you leave him you'll be doing him a favour." Hugo laughed again and went on, "You'll be helping him to get rid of some of his inhibitions." Of course, poor Gordon was as much a victim of his superego as I had been of mine, and that had never occurred to me. Hugo was sucking my nipples again and I was ready for another round of love making. * * * * * * * * I think Gordon was as relieved as I was to be freed from the "double harness." We divorced and he was transferred to another parish and with him went his lover he had met recently. Hugo was ordained and we married, and no one seemed to question this. He had always taken me to heaven in the act of love, but it has been extra special lately because I've gone off the contraceptive pill. It seems that when you're trying for a pregnancy the feelings are even more intense, but I suppose that's how God intended them to be. Finding Grandma My parents divorced when I was less than a year old. I guess it was a messy split; I never saw my biological dad nor any of his relatives. My mom remarried when I was three, and I grew up happily with my stepdad, hardly even aware that I had a whole other family. The summer after my second year in college, me and a couple of other buddies got a great opportunity to spend a couple of months in the Caribbean. My pal John's dad worked for a major cruise line, and the cruise line needed some extra porters at the last minute. Our plan was to work the three week cruise from New York through the islands, spend a couple of weeks in Bermuda, and then pick up a cruise trip back to New York. A week or so later, John, Bob, and I boarded the S.S. Ariadne, a huge, new, beautiful, top-of-the line cruise ship. The porter's job is basically to help load passengers and their luggage on board, make sure they had everything they needed, and generally keep everyone supplied with everything from pillows to aspirin to champagne. The three of us shared a cabin on the lower decks. We worked 12 hour shifts, laid off for 12 hours, and got a two day break every four days. For the first three days, after loading the passengers, we were so busy we busy we barely saw each other. Most of the passengers were older folks, over 40 and most in their fifities. They were generally pretty nice, but also very demanding. One old broad actually asked me to take her girdles and hose out for washing every morning. Passengers were supposed to tip us as they left the ship. Believe me, I was expecting some big tips. There were few women under 40 on board, so John and Bob were angling to bed down a couple of the maids. They were mostly Hispanic, ranging in age from 18 to 65. Some of them were cute. Every night at mess, the three of us would sit down with a different group of maids and pitch our lines. Bob actually hooked up with a cute Honduran girl, in her mid-twenties with a killer smile and a nice, thick booty. John was less lucky. He even started to hit on some of the older maids. Me, I was happy to flirt a little here and there, keep in touch with my girlfriend by phone, and draw up plans for our first extended debarkation in Puerto Rico. Four or five days into the cruise, the head porter shifted me to a different deck. No big deal. But I started to notice this older passenger. She was probably in her late forties or early fifties with thick wavy brown hair, big brown eyes, full lips, and a really, really fine, curvy body - - nice big tits and a swelling, full ass. I'd see her in the morning and smile, ask what she needed, and make a little conversation. Throughout the day we'd bump into each other and smile, make a little small talk. The official company policy was not to mess with the passengers, so I kept everything very low key. I must admit however, maybe it was being a week at sea, her ripe body really started turning me on. And her big toothy smile in the morning warmed me up some. I think she was a little interested too because she was really happy to see me in the mornings, and she lit up like a candle when we bumped into each other during the afternoon. She was traveling with some girlfriends, but staying in a single cabin. Each day she and her two or three girlfriends would eat breakfast, sun on the deck, play some shuffleboard, aerobicize, play cards, exercise some more, and then settle down for dinner. After dinner, the cruise usually ran some kind of show or music or dancing, sometimes even a current movie. There was plenty to do, and the passengers kept busy. The middle of the second week or so, I finished my shift around 9, took dinner in the mess, and then wandered onto deck for some fresh air. I was standing there, leaning over the rail watching the ocean ripple away beneath me when I heard a giggle behind me. I thought it was one of the maids, so I turned around intending to tell her to buzz off. Imagine my surprise when I discovered it was my sexy passenger, dressed in a short, tight, sleeveless dress. Her full body was all curves and smooth tan skin. I smiled and said hello. "Hi there," she said. It sounded like she'd done a little drinking. "What you looking at?" "Come on over here and find out," I told her with a sweep of my hand. She giggled again and pranced over on her high heels. She stood there against the railing, her arm brushing against mine. "It's the ocean," she said, and I admired her profile in the moonlight, the tops of her large breasts bursting out of the top of her tight dress. "Yeah," I replied. "And the moon. Kind of romantic, isn't it?" "I'll say," she said and half turned to me with a big smile. Her hips pushed away from the rail, and I drank in the sight to of her still-thin waist, her full bosom, and the pearl necklace that ran just under her neck. It was an intoxicating sight, and I could feel my cock starting to stir. "You know," she said, moving an inch or two closer to me. "Most of the men on this ship are no fun." I laughed. "Are you looking for fun?" I asked her. "You bet," she said with a chuckle. "Hanging out with the girls is one thing, but having fun is something else." "I'm sure you could find a fun guy, if you looked," I told her. "I think I could," she answered, putting her hand on my forearm. In a split second, we were locked in a tight embrace, her arms wrapped around my neck, mine around her waist. She moaned, and I put my hands on her fine, swelling ass and pulled her close against my rapidly expanding cock. Our lips met and we kissed furiously. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and soon we were like mad animals trying to devour each others' hot, wet tongues. She was panting and moaning, and I was grinding my hips against her crotch. I reached up with one hand to grab onto one of her tits. It was full like a melon, huge and succulent. She pulled her mouth from mine and groaned. "Oh baby," she whispered, almost choking with passion. "Hmmmm. Yes, baby. Ohhhhh.." Breathing hard into each others' faces we did a kind of dry fuck standing up, me rubbing and squeezing her ass, she with her arms locked around my neck, pulling me down to lick and suck the tops of her tits. After what seemed like hours, we paused for a moment. "Listen," I told her breathlessly. "If anyone sees me out here doing this, I'll get fired. Let's go below." She exhaled with a huge sigh. "Yes. Okay. Let's hurry." I took her hand and led her to the door and into the ship. Just inside the doorway, we kissed again and she reached down to squeeze my hard cock. She moaned and pulled me by the hand to the stairs down to her deck. We rushed along, bursting with lust. The feel and sight of her lush body made me want to jump on her right there, fuck her in the stairwell, take her against the wall. We made it to her cabin, and she fumbled with the keycard she had tucked away in her small purse. I wasn't helping much as I stood behind her pressing my cock against her ass and running my hands over her hips. She grunted when the door flew open and we tumbled into the room. She turned and wrapped her arms around my neck and we sank to the floor. I kicked the door shut as I scrabbled to grab her huge tits and bury my mouth in her delicious, deep cleavage. She was already unbuckling my pants and zipping me open. As she pulled my cock out, I pulled her skirt up over her hips and pulled her panties down. By the time I had her panties to her knees, she had my cock out and was helping me inside. My cock was rock hard and her cunt was smooth and tight. As I entered her, she gasped and clawed my shoulders. As I worked my cock in deeper, she raised her knees and grabbed my hair. Soon I was all the way in and her cunt was wrapped like a glove around the full length of my cock. I paused for just a moment and raised myself up on my elbows, then plunged my tongue into her mouth. Soon I was fucking her for all I was worth and with every thrust, she groaned and moaned. I pumped harder and faster, raising my hips off the floor. She started squealing in pleasure and pulling her cunt up as I rammed my cock down into her. We were humping like coyotes and soon my whole consciousness was absorbed in the motion of my cock as it pounded in and out of her. Her squeals became low pitched screams, and she bit my shirt to muffle her orgasm. I'd never felt my cock so hard as I fucked her, and just when I thought it couldn't get any harder, I felt my balls start to burn. Pumping even faster, oblivious to everything, including her fingers frenziedly yanking my hair, I felt myself cumming, and cumming, and cumming. I froze for a moment, shooting what seemed like gallons into her. Then, I started pumping again as I felt her whole body shudder and she began gasping. "Ohhhhhh," she moaned, and wrapped her legs tight around my ass, pulling my cock tight into her cunt. "Mmmmmf," she mumbled, deliriously. I gave a few more spasmodic pumps and then that was it, my body was through, and I collapsed on top of my new lover. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. I felt her stroking my hair and running her hand along my ass. "Hmmmmmm," I said. "That was great." "Oh yes, baby," she whispered in my ear. "That was fantastic." We disentangled ourselves and I rolled over on my back. We lay there next to each other, slowly regaining our breath. After ten minutes or so, she raised herself on her elbow and gave me a sweet kiss. "I'm going to clean up a bit," she smiled at me. "Let's rendezvous on the bed." With that she rose up, rearranged her skirt over her hips, and headed for the bathroom. I gazed in admiration at her plentiful ass, plotting my next assault. Rising, I stripped. Piling my clothes on a chair in the corner of the cabin. Settling onto the bed, I pulled a sheet over my hips and turned on the small lamp next to the bed. "By the way," she called from the bathroom with a laugh. "My name is Barbara." I laughed too. "Hi Barbara," I said. "My name is Paul." "Well, Paul," she said as she came out of the bathroom. "Maybe now we can really get to know each other." I gave a low whistle when I caught sight of her emerging from the bathroom. She had taken off her dress, her bra, and her panties and put on a thin, silky nightie. The light from behind her silohuetted her full hips and her thick but shapely legs. She was wearing slippers with heels. She leaned against the door, throwing out her hips. "You like?" She asked with a smile. "You bet," I said, pulling the sheet down to reveal my cock, fat and erect again. "Oh goodie," she said and strode over to the bed, her tits swaying back and forth as she approached. She reached down to grab my dick, taking it in her hand and squeezing it. "Hmmmmm," she murmured. "Just the way I like a young man: hard and eager." I laughed as she sat on the bed, wrapping both hands around my dick, slowly squeezing and massaging it into readiness. "Tell me, Paul," she said. "How old are you?" I swallowed as her hands slowly raised my cock to full attention. "I'm nineteen," I answered. "Hmmmmm," she answered. "Nice." She paused for a moment, taking her hands away from my cock to pull her nightie over her head. I let out a sigh at the sight of her huge tits, full and still riding high on her chest. Her big round nipples were pointing right at my face. "And tell me, Paul," she asked, pushing her tits out. "How old do you think I am?" "Hmmmm," I answered. "I don't know." "Well, baby," she continued, dropping her tits onto my cock. "I'm fifty-six. What do you think about that?" I didn't think much about anything at that point, except raising my hips up so my cock would be smothered by her luscious tits. "Yessssss," she gasped. "That's it. Old enough to be your mother, at least."She dipped her head down to lick my cock. I groaned and she lowered her body and grabbed my cock. She played with my dick, stroking it, licking it, wiggling it, and finally, stuffing it into her mouth, inch by inch. "Ahhhh," I groaned as she gobbled up my cock. Soon she was feeding it in and out of her mouth like a woman starved for a good meal. I pushed her head up and down as she greedily gobbled up my dick. Then, as I felt myself getting really stiff, I reached down and pulled her up. She dragged her tongue across my body as she rose up. Our lips met, and seconds later she sat on my dick and my hard seven inches was buried deep in her pussy. We fucked like that for a half hour, me sucking on her titties and running my lips across her chest and neck, she straining with pleasure as I bounced her up and down on my hips. We came together and she plunged her tongue into my mouth as we ground out our orgasms together. We fucked with abandon all night. We fell exhausted into sleep with my cock still buried in her cunt, having just taken her doggie style. The next day was my first day off, so I was in no hurry to climb out of Barbara's bed. We woke up together lazily, kissing and hugging, and then she headed off to take a warm bath. I lay there in bed, listening to her draw her bath, admiring my tired, deflated cock, and enjoying the bright sunshine and ocean air. I heard her get in the bath. "Paul, honey," Barbara called from the bath. "Yeah," I answered. "Where are you from?" Los Angeles I told her. She asked me where I went to school and other questions. Then she asked, "Do you like fucking older women?" I felt my cock stir. I'd never really thought about it that way. But looking at my stiffening cock and remembering the night before, I answered: "Yeah, I guess I do now." I heard her giggle. "Paul," she asked again. "What's your last name anyway?" "O'Neill," I answered back. There was a pause. "O'Neill," she said. "Paul O'Neill. That's my son's name." "Yeah," I said. "I guess it's pretty common." There was a longer pause. "What was your mother's maiden name?" She asked me, as I heard her rising from the tub. "Brindle," I answered. I heard Barbara gasp in the bathroom. "What's the matter?" I asked as I rose from the bed. I thought she'd tripped or had some kind of accident. "Paul," she said, filling the doorway to the bathroom and wrapping herself in a towel. "Paul, my god. My name is Barbara O'Neill. My son Paul married a woman named Sue Brindle. They had a baby named Paul. He was born in 1981." "What?" I gasped. My head was reeling. I could barely think. The room spun around around me. "What are you saying?" "My god," Barbara almost screamed. "I'm your grandmother!" I couldn't' speak. I had just spent the entire night fucking a sexy, hot, horny woman. I had just spent almost eight hours with my cock buried happily my grandmother's hungry cunt! Barbara moaned and closed the bathroom door. I sat back on the bed, numb with shock. Slowly, I rose and knocked on the bathroom door. "No, no, no Paul," Barbara groaned from behind the door. "Go away. Go away." "Barbara," I pleaded half-heartedly. "Go away, please," she mumbled through the door. "Just go away." Still in shock, confused, I turned and pulled on my clothes. I could hear Barbara sobbing in the bathroom. I leaned against the door. "Barbara," I pleaded, full of sadness. "It's okay. We didn't know. How could we know. Please . . .say it's ok." Barbara sobbed. "Go away. I'm sorry." I backed away from the door and turned to leave her cabin, casting one last glance at the twisted, sex-drenched sheets on her bed. Then, I closed the door behind me. That whole day I stumbled around like a zombie, dazed and confused. Unsure of what to do, what to think. How to feel. Around five, the head porter called me into his office and told me I'd been reassigned again, this time to a deck on the other end of the ship. I just nodded glumly and retreated to my bunk. Bob and John returned from their shifts and begged me to head out onto the decks with them to do some drinking. I refused and fell into a deep sleep around midnight. I didn't see Barbara again for the rest of the trip. I thought maybe she'd debarked and headed back to the States. I kept looking for her on deck and in the dining room. Miserably, I went through the motions of my job for the next week and a half like a robot. Slowly, though, I could feel myself returning to normal. It was just a mistake, I told myself. It was impossible for either one of us to know the truth. The fact that we had balled each other delirious only made it more tragic, but somehow also more ambiguous. If fucking my grandmother was so wrong, how had we been able to make each other feel so good? ------------------------------------ At the end of three weeks, we debarked in Bermuda and John and Bob and I found a room to rent for a month near the beach. The passengers on our trip would spend a four or five days at a resort in Bermuda and then fly back to the states. I was ready to relax and enjoy myself, spend time on the beach, time drinking with my buddies, and time chasing the local ladies. We partied hard that first night, drinking and dancing at a local bar. The next morning, we woke up late. Bob was off to see his Honduran girlfriend. John suggested we head off to the hotel for the cruise passengers, being the son of a big cheese, he could get free meals, free drinks, and free use of the pool. We headed over to the hotel and downed a huge breakfast. An hour or so later, we were sitting by the side of the pool in our trunks enjoying the sun and some cold beers. I was just starting to drowse off when John nudged me. "Hey, Paul," he whispered. "There's that old broad from the ship who had the hots for you." I opened my eyes and followed his gaze. I felt a jolt run through my body as I recognized Barbara, sitting by the pool with her girlfriends, playing cards. She was turned slightly away from me, so I remained invisible to her. But I could see her voluptious body crammed into a two-piece swimsuit, her massive tits bulging over the top and her luxurious thighs crossed. "Yeah," I answered John. "I guess that's her." "Tell me about it," John said. "I'd do her in a minute! Check out those tits, man." I grunted and closed my eyes. But, as I lay there, I kept thinking about Barbara. Even if we were blood relatives, I thought, it didn't seem right to end things in such a painful way. Maybe we couldn't enjoy each other sexually, but she was my grandmother. Didn't we owe each other something else? "I'll be back," I told John as I rose up off the chaise lounge. I walked around the pool, keeping my eyes on Barbara, and approaching her from the back. As I neared, her girlfriends raised their eyes to greet me. They were all smiles. Barbara turned. I couldn't see her eyes behind her dark sunglasses, but I noticed her quick glance down and up my suntanned body. "Barbara," I said. She smiled. "Ladies," she announced over her shoulder. "This is my grandson, Paul." The ladies murmured amongst themselves. "He works for the cruise line," Barbara continued. "Don't you Paul?" I nodded yes and drank in the sight of her impressive cleavage. I couldn't help it, but I felt my cock beginning to stir in my swimsuit. "Well," one of Barbara's friends commented. "He sure is a good looking fellow, isn't he Barbara?" Barbara let out a little laugh. "Yes, I suppose he is," Barbara said. I smiled along. "Barbara," I started. "No," she interrupted me. "Call me Grandma O'Neill." Oh shit, I thought. This is the way she wants to do it. "Okay," I said. "Grandma, could we have a little chat? Barbara's smile faded. She looked around. "Paul," she said. "I'm playing cards right now." "But grandma," I implored. "I think we really should talk." "Go on, Barbara," one of her friends chipped in. "Have a talk with him. We can wait." Finding Grandma The other ladies joined in, telling Barbara to take a break. She finally agreed and threw down her cards. She stood and once again I felt my cock grow another inch as her full body came into my view. She was my grandmother, but somehow my cock wouldn't obey that fact. "Come, Paul," Barbara said, taking my hand. "We'll go to my room to have our little talk." How different but similar this was. Only a couple of weeks before she had led me to her room by the hand. But then we were bursting to fuck each other. Now, we were grandmother and grandson, primly and politely departing for a family chat. "How have you been, Barbara," I asked her as we headed into the hotel. "Miserable," she answered. "How do you think I've been?" I held the door open for her and found my eyes fastened on her plump ass, stretching the nylon of her suit's bottom taut. She caught me looking and paused for a moment. I couldn't tell what was coming, a slap or a rebuke. Instead, she motioned me ahead of her. "Let's go," she said softly. We got to her room and she unlocked the door. I entered ahead of her and sat on a chair while she closed the door behind us. Barbara stood a few feet in front of me. "Well," she said, crossing her arms over her ample chest. I grasped the arms of the chair and began. "Barbara, I feel so bad." She interrupted me. "Call me grandma," she said firmly. "Okay. Okay." I said. "Grandma, I feel so bad. I know we did a horrible thing. But we couldn't know that. We were innocent." I could see Barbara getting agitated, shifting from one foot to the other and sighing. "Listen to me," I continued. "We can't fuck each other anymore. I know. But we're still family. Aren't we?" Barbara's whole body stiffened when I used the word "fuck." But by the time I'd finished, I could see her mouth trembling and her eyes growing moist. "Oh Paul," she half-sobbed. "Yes, we're still family. Yes, yes. I'm your grandmother and you're my grandson. I'm so sorry . . .so sorry." Her shoulders began to heave and her eyes were shining with tears. Slowly, she unwrapped her arms and held them out to me. I stood and entered her embrace, feeling the curves of her body press against me. She laid her arms gently around my neck and buried her head in my chest. "Don't be sorry, grandma," I whispered. "Don't be sorry." She pulled me tighter against her. "My poor grandson," she sobbed. "My poor Paul." The feel of her soft half-naked body against mine was so good I pulled her closer to me. We were hugging each other tightly. "Paul," she whispered. "Give me a kiss. Please, honey." She pulled her head off my chest and raised her lips. I leaned my head down and our lips met. It was a chaste kiss. Our lips touched and then parted. But then, I felt Barbara pulling my head back down to her mouth. This time, our lips met and lingered together. My cock had started to crawl down my trunks and I could feel Barbara's hips begin to press more urgently against my erection. I ran my hands down over her ass, and as I did, her lips parted and her tongue pushed its way into my mouth. With a groan, I reciprocated, sliding my tongue into her hot wet mouth. Her arms tightened around my neck, and suddenly we were sucking each others' tongues. Barbara pulled me forward, and soon she was on her back on the bed and I was standing over her. She raised her knees up, and I slipped my shorts down off my hips. She gasped as my cock sprang into sight. "Oh Paul," she moaned. "Oh baby." I grinned and grabbed my cock. "Do you like it grandma," I asked with a leer, shaking my dick slowly over her reclining body. She let out a loud groan and began to pull her swimsuit bottom over her hips. "Oh Paul," she moaned as she pulled her suit bottom over her feet and raised her arms. "Come on and fuck me." I dropped down on top of her and she quickly guided my hard cock into her cunt. Groaning together, we began humping almost as soon as our crotches met. I gnawed frantically at her huge tits and she equally frantically pulled the cups of her suit top down to allow me access to her stiff nipples. I braced my feet on the floor and began pounding away at her cunt while she raised her legs and wrapped them around my waist. Soon we were bouncing up and down on the bed and grunting in pleasure. Barbara began moaning in my ear as I wolfed down her tits, and then, as her moans turned into high-pitchted, desperate sighs, she pulled my mouth from her breasts and we crammed our tongues into each others' mouths. My cock burst inside her as her sighs mounted. I kept pounding away, beyond my orgasm and she reached down to pull my ass tight against her crotch so that we began to writhe and buck together. As we came together, I felt like I had never fucked a woman before. My mind exploded with pure pleasure and I buried my head in her neck, grunting out a few extra jerks of my cock inito her cunt. She wrapped her arms around my head as our bodies shuddered into stillness, my cock still encased in her seasoned cunt. We laid there, stunned, awash in post-coital pleasure, arms hugging each others' bodies close. Barbara stroked my hair while I ran my hands over her waist and ass. "Oh Paul," she finally whispered. "Oh my god. I've never been fucked like that." "Not Paul," I mumbled into her hair. "Grandson." Barbara gasped. I could feel her body tremble. "Yes," she moaned in a small voice. "Grandson. I've never been fucked like that before, grandson." She began pressing my head down, into her tits, and her hips slowly began to twist against my cock. "Hmmmm, grandma," I murmured through a mouthful of sweaty tit. "I'm getting hard again." Barbara gasped again and reached down between my legs, taking my cock in her hand and slowly stroking it. "Oh honey," she whispered. "Do you want to fuck your grandmother again? Do you want to fuck grandma again, like you did before?" With a jolt of pleasure, I realized how much all this talk was turning us both on, and my cock began to swell to hardness. I pushed Barbara over, onto her side, her hand still grasping my cock. Taking one of her tits into my hand, I put my other hand over hers on my cock and pushed my dick down along the crack of her luscious, full ass. "It's all yours grandma," I whispered in her ear as the tip of my cock entered her cunt. Barbara moaned and turned her head for a long passionate kiss as I slipped the full length of my dick all the way inside her. We fucked again, grandmother and I, and this time it was better because the sight of my cock pumping in and out of her ass drove me wild. Grandma never made it back to her card game. We ordered room service in and kept fucking each other - - on the bed, standing up, in the tub - - for a day and a half. Grandma decided to spend another week in Bermuda before flying back to New York, and together, we reestablished the family love that had been missing from our lives for so long.