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Leaves

By: dr_mabeuse



He was a big guy but quiet, and when things didn't work out for him he liked to be alone, so he was alone a lot. That didn't bother him much, because he didn't feel like he had much to say to other people anyhow, at least, not about the things they cared about. He was a former football player and looked it, and so people were surprised at how introspective he was. They didn't know what to make of him.

He was given to thinking about big things, about life and death and what was possible or not. He loved things that were irrational or that baffled him, and he sought them out. He believed that the human mind was very small compared to what was out there, and that you had to leave yourself open to things you didn't understand, because when the truth came, it wouldn't come as a result of logic or the things he knew, but from somewhere else, totally unexpected, wearing a face he'd never seen before and possibly wouldn't even recognize. 

He was pretty sure that thinking about the kinds of things he thought about was the most important thing you could do with your life, but he was aware that all this thinking didn't make him very popular. That did bother him, because while he didn't mind being alone, he didn't like being lonely. He wasn't sure whether the kinds of things he thought about prevented him from having friends, or whether the fact that he had no friends made him think about the kinds of things he did. He had a good job that paid him very well for very little work, and one in which people left him alone. He wondered whether that was good or not too.

There was a golf course not far from his new apartment, and since he liked to walk, he often went there at night, walking on the grassy verge because there were no sidewalks where he lived: everyone drove cars. The golf course was protected by a chain link fence, but in places the fence was old and sagging or just fallen down, especially by the little creek that ran as a little water hazard through the manicured fairways. There was a big patch down by the fence near the ninth tee that was too inaccessible to mow or spray or make out in, and over the years had been allowed to revert to whatever nature would have it be. Willows hung over the little creek that here was wild and swampy, and poplars stood guard behind, screening it from the golf course proper. There were maples and dogwood, hackberry and fir and bushes whose name he didn't know, sloping down to an open spot before the stream where weeds and wildflowers grew in the spring.

He never went there, because that would require wading in the creek, but he liked to stand on the little concrete bridge nearby and just look at the patch and let his mind go blank. Sometimes he would play games, like squinting his eyes to make everything blur, or making a tiny little hole by putting his thumb against the crook of the top joint of his index finger and looking at things through that, or other foolishness, but in the end he found that just looking at the patch was very pleasing to him and restful. The human eye seems to take pleasure in things that are green and shadowy and overwritten with nature's hieroglyphics, and that was the patch. He hadn't been to church since he was a child, but standing on the bridge was like standing in front of something sacred. There was some sort of infinity in there, a wild place where no human hand could reach.

He began coming down here with nature books, and learned the names of the trees and weeds, and even some of the bushes, plants he usually wouldn't even notice. In the summer there was the green scrim of tall grasses and the soothing shadows of rustling leaves, the sounds of insects and maybe frogs by the edge of the water. In winter, black and sepia bleakness and stark steel-pen angularity of the dead weeds and naked trees, black twigs making a mosaic of the gray and lowering sky. 

No matter what time of year it was, though, what he saw and felt there pleased him and drew him back, and he became very attached to the patch. The trees were like people—the melodramatic willows, the staid and conservative poplars, the quiet but good-natured firs that seemed to keep up the other's spirits in the winter. He believed in nature like he believed in God, both of which seemed to have fallen out of favor these days so that the closest he came to either was on TV, and so it was a great thrill for him to realize that the patch was nature too, unruled, unwatched, uncared for, his own bit of the unknown. Barely an acre, but what went on in there was no man's business and hadn't been for years.

That was important to him, because he believed it was necessary to live near a frontier or gateway, either a river or ocean or a bit of wilderness—or even, as a last resort, a highway or railroad if nothing else was available—some way for the unknown to reach into your life and make its presence known. He believed you had to make yourself available to the miraculous, which he was sure was out there. The patch wasn't much, but it was all he had.

He lived where the change of seasons was fairly dramatic, and he savored each one. Spring was especially good, and this year he rushed into it impatiently, barely waiting for the first night warm enough to go out walking, where he could hear the melt water running beneath the dirty snow, and the air was as cold and raw as the earth it blew over. He went out to the bridge where the weather could find him and stared at the bare trees and dead grass of the patch and let the raw wind scour his face till his eyes watered. The wind was full of life, and he could feel stirring in the soil as well, and even in the urgent icy water of the little creek, wild and full of itself with the spring runoff like a drunken adolescent.

He knew that the early spring flowers—the daffodils, the crocuses, the narcissus and snow drops—would all bloom on the same day, each after its own kind. It didn't matter if it was down here at the patch, or in a city back yard thirty miles away. On a certain night, each species would bloom all at once, as if they were all wired together to one grand switch. No one knew how it happened and no one could explain it, but it proved to him that there were ways of communicating that people didn't know about and couldn't even imagine. That thought pleased him. He liked to think that there were things going on that no one understood, and things being said that no human ever heard—many, many things, he suspected, more than most people dreamed. 

And on that raw and windy March night he could feel one of them, even if he couldn't understand it. He could feel spring pushing against him with soft and insistent force—cold still, but the warmth would come. The image he had was of a huge, dark, breast, full of life and promise, and the image made him smile. He could almost hear the scrabble of millions of little feet in the soil and feel the restless coiling of leaves in the bud on the tossing trees, and he could sense some big mystery rubbing up against him like a cat that wanted to follow him home and come inside. He'd felt that cat before. He'd felt it before and had always looked for the handle that would open the door to let it in, but he'd never found it.

He wouldn't find it now, either, but he realized that the Patch was giving him a taste of it, a peek, letting him in on a secret, and right then and there, in the raw, misty night, he slapped his hand down on the bridge and laughed for joy—laughed like a loon and didn't care who heard him. There was mystery in the world, and he loved it.

After that it was his place, his sacred grove. No one used the bridge, because no one walked anywhere anymore, and he had it all to himself. He came there and stared at the Patch and let himself go, let it flow through his senses and speak to his body directly, telling him things he couldn't hear and washing himself clean on the inside, looking at the weeds and trees and that shy little brook. He saw the spring come, the browns give way to green, the fresh soft greens hardening and becoming dark and serious. 

On a day in June he met a girl walking towards him across the bridge, out of the golf course, out of the Patch. He said hello and she smiled. She was there again the next night, and he said hello again and again she smiled. 

On the third night he asked her where she was coming from, if he might be so bold, and she told him she was coming from that little patch of woods, that berries grew in there and along the edges of the golf course, and she showed him a little plastic bag she had in her purse, containing dark blue berries with their purple juice. They talked—she was surprisingly easy to talk to—and she promised to bring him blueberry muffins if he was there the next night.

Her name was April and she lived nearby, in a big, raw-looking apartment building. The halls of the building smelled like wet laundry, a fact that stopped bothering him when he would go there to pick her up. She lived alone, and was like no one he'd ever met.

It wasn't just her appearance, though she was lovely and seemed to grow lovelier every time he saw her. Rather it was the way she seemed to radiate calm and tenderness and patient understanding. She never needed for him to say anything, and so he could talk to her, and everything he said was like a gift. Harold—that was his name—began to flower. In her presence, he was something new and precious and exciting, and being this to someone quite took his breath away.

She had no special preconceptions or pretensions of her own, and so she didn't think his thoughts were silly. She wondered about the same things he did, and she also thought that thinking about them was probably the most important thing a person could do with their life. In her presence, thoughts and pieces of himself that seemed old and worn-out became shiny and new, and she took them and turned them over in her hands, seeing things he'd never seen in them, and gave them back to him shined and polished and gleaming, things he could now be proud of and that astonished him himself.

She was perfect, despite her little quirks. She didn't like movies or the noise of clubs, places he tried to impress her with before he understood her. Museums were okay, and classical music, and quiet, but she didn't like crowds and money didn't impress her. Sometimes he'd take her out to dinner, and then they'd drive out to the Planetarium on the lake, from where they could see the lights of the city. It was like looking at a bigger Patch, bright and manmade, but the idea was the same. He'd never liked the city before, but he realized now that had been because he was envious. With April, he wasn't envious of anyone anymore.

Still, their favorite evening was to walk over to the golf course and lean on the bridge. It was there that he finally kissed her, when he could hold out no more. He'd agonized over it for days, over how he'd do it, what he'd say, but in the end it was as easy and natural as a leaf falling from a tree. He just turned to her and there she was for him, and he could almost hear the trees applauding them as they stood there lost in each other's arms.

She kissed like no one he had ever met, her mouth full of promise but expectant, waiting for him. He had an image of a still pool waiting for a rock to be thrown into it, the rock sinking into the cool and mysterious depths as the ripples spread out to the shore, the surface breaking into coruscations of brilliant light.

That was the first night they made love, back at his apartment. She was naturally modest so he thought she was shy, but he was wrong. She responded to his kisses in a way he'd never imagined a woman would, as if each one was different and precious, and she embraced him with a clinging softness that made him weak. It seemed like everywhere he touched her was the right spot, and everything he did to her made her tremble. They kissed naked on his bed, and she was exquisite. He would have been happy to just lie there and hold her and kiss, but now she was insistent.

He got up on his knees between her thighs, and he felt like he stood before the door to something holy, and what is holiness but the sense of something bigger than ourselves, something geared to the mysterious wheels that drive the universe? That's how Harold felt as he knelt between her thighs, as if all the mystery and beauty of the world were right there before him.

And it was holy. It made his previous sexual experiences feel like games of spin the bottle, like grammar-school kisses of tightly-clamped lips pressed against each other, devoid of all emotion. April was open and wet, hot and supple, yielding even as she fucked him back with a woman's strength and slow, insistent hunger. He made him feel what it was to be a man. She took his breath away.

She opened for him and made a place for him in her body, a place he knew that no one else had ever been or would ever go, a place that seemed to already be a part of her, as if she'd been born for him. For the first time he knew what it was to make love and not just fuck, to share his flesh with another and be inside her, a part of her; and not just his body, but his mind and his emotions and his very soul as well: in her, of her, one with her. That's what it was like—like he was her as well as himself, with no walls between them, nothing to separate them, and he felt himself fucking her and being fucked at the same time, kissing his own lips and groaning in his own ear.

He felt it all flooding out of him—all the loneliness and anguish and fear, all the misery and despair in his life. It all gathered into one burning knot, one aching pressure that finally exploded out of him and into her body as she clung to him and cried out in joy and triumph, taking what he gave her and turning it into pleasure of her own. He hung arched above her, thrust as deep as he could go as it boiled out of him and April arched back in desperate acceptance, clawing the sheets as her own ecstasy broke over her in an obliterating wave, taking them both to a place where they were together in their joy, with no bodies at all to get in the way.

Their sex was the beginning of his joy, where he found a peace and fulfillment that was as close to an answer for those things he always thought about as he was ever likely to get. There was mystery in their sex, and the feeling of rubbing up against the great unknown, something bigger than him and bigger than April and bigger than both of them combined. There was something of that cat again, something of that same sense of mysteries about to be revealed, but farther than that he couldn't go.

His happiness was noticed. It attracted people. They flocked around him, not knowing what it was but wanting some of it for themselves, or perhaps just curious or even resentful, and soon he had friends, or what passed for friends—people who were happy to talk to him, if not always happy to listen. Having friends was a new experience for him, and exciting. They were always moving about, and that movement felt like progress, like he was going somewhere.

He and April were invited out, and that's when the trouble started. She was reluctant to go, and took forever to get ready. And it wasn't just a matter of finding the right thing to wear or put on her face, it was more that she just couldn't get emotionally ready, or physically. 

It was a joke at first, but then it became troublesome. One night he stepped into the bathroom to bring her a towel as she showered, and playfully pulled the shower door open, and for a moment he couldn't see her face. It must have been her tangled hair, but for a moment all he could see what hair—strands of hair like bundles twigs, with no face behind them. April screamed in alarm and turned away, and he staggered back, pretending to laugh. He'd been looking at her breasts. It was only later that he realized he hadn't seen her face, and all night it bothered him, like a barely remembered dream. He began noticing all the make-up she wore when they went out with his friends. She never wore make-up at home.

He liked his friends. He liked their excitements and their entertainments: clubs, sporting events. Especially the sporting events. He liked all the focus and intensity, the rules, all that energy and effort expended on getting a ball across a field. He began to care and care passionately about who won and last, as if the games weren't entertainment at all, but something serious and important.

April hated the games, just detested them. She didn't like the crowds and the emotionalism of the fans, and winning and losing meant nothing to her. She asked him one night why, if it were so important that they get the ball across the goal, they didn't just invent a machine to do it and be done with all the sweating and shoving. It took him some time to realize that she was serious. 

He learned to play golf, and played a few times on the course that bordered the Patch. The first time he tried to pick it out from the ninth tee, but from there, the rough all looked the same. After that, he forgot about it. He did well for a beginner. He rode in a cart.

He grew comfortable in love and took it for granted. He and April stopped walking out to the Patch to just stand on the bridge and gaze. It seemed silly now, quaint and slightly embarrassing, and he lived in dread that April would mention it in public, in front of his new friends. He couldn't imagine what he had seen there.

He loved the flash and color of his new life. He liked acceleration—physical or emotional. With his confidence and money and with April staying home so much, he became a very attractive target. There were women who were attracted to his happiness and wondered whether it was genuine and whether they could have some of it by sleeping with him, or, failing that, whether they could ruin it for him. They could. The girls who bedded Harold thought she should know about it and so they made sure she found out. She never reproached him about it, but she began to get ill quite a bit. He hardly noticed.

He hardly noticed anything anymore, not till he came home one bright autumn afternoon and she was gone.

There was no note, nothing like that, just a profound emptiness when he entered the apartment, a stillness of air and a melancholy slant to the afternoon light falling on the bedroom floor.

It the end of October, and fall had turned the trees to harlequins outside his apartment windows. He hadn't noticed that either. Fall is the pivot of the year, his favorite season, and one he'd looked forward to sharing with April. And now she was gone. What had he done?

Her apartment was gone, sublet months ago. She didn't answer her phone. For the first time in weeks, he walked out, heading for the patch, not knowing where else to look. Now he saw as he walked. Now he remembered. The colors of the leaves reminded him of his old box of watercolors, the little gem-like pallets named Indian Red, Burnt Sienna, Alizarin Crimson, Ochre, Gall, beautiful and sad. The fallen leaves crunching under his feet like delicate bones, and he stopped and picked one up. Twisted, red and brown, exquisite, and, like a snowflake, different from all the others. The world was profligate with beauty if only you stopped to look, and if only you had someone to share it with.

She was not at the patch and he stood on the bridge letting the colors soak into his eyes and into his soul, as if weeping in reverse, missing April like he hadn't missed her in weeks, as he'd never missed anything in his entire life. The trees in the patch were silent and respectful as befitting those who were about to die. It was Halloween, October 31st, and they were waiting for this one last riotous celebration before the November darkness set it. It was a time to let loose, a day without a tomorrow, a time without consequences.


Leaves in the Autumn winds



"I never would have believed this!" she thought as she looked in the mirror.

It had once been so simple, her life, work, looking after hubby, seeing the kids and grandkids on weekends. So simple. So ordered. 

She knew that she had been restless, that her thoughts had sometimes strayed into areas where they shouldn't , but she would never have done anything about it, really she wouldn't, until she met Alan at that damned evening class.

She'd only joined to get out of the house. She needed something other than four walls and work. She needed to breathe, to create, to think freely, so she joined an art class. She'd been lousy at art at school, and she didn't think she'd be any better now, but it got her out of the house and into new company once a week.

That's how she met Alan. He was a few years older than her, mid fifties maybe, not too tall and stockily built, with a pleasant smile. Most of the others in the group were either much older or younger than them, so they almost naturally gravitated toward each other in the mid class tea break, laughing at their rather pathetic attempts to paint a vase of flowers. They sat together at a small table and sipped their tea, making small talk. He seemed a little sad, she thought, and she wondered if for him, as for her, the class was an escape from something. She found herself oddly drawn to him, and when the class finished she left reluctantly. She saw him in the lobby and said "See you next week then." And he smiled and said "Yes, I'll be here, ruining another piece of good art paper." They both laughed and walked their separate ways.

When the next class came around, she found that she was looking forward to seeing him again. Odd, really, as she'd hardly thought about him all week, well maybe once or twice, just as she was drifting off to sleep, seeing those hazel eyes looking into hers, wondering how it would feel to .....

"Stop it!" she thought. Damn, she hardly knew the man, she'd only met him once, hardly spoken to him, and here she was imagining his hands........

"Damn, pull yourself together woman!" she told herself sharply, but when she arrived at the class and there was no sign of him, a little knot of disappointment formed in her stomach. A few minutes later, however, he came through the door, and she felt as if the room grew a little brighter with his presence.

This time, during the tea break, she managed to arrange things so that they were away from the others, and he seemed happy to fit in with this. In fact, she imagined that if she didn't know better he could have been thinking along the same lines. This time talk turned to family. He was married, he said, but he'd wanted something to get him out of the house now and again, so he'd joined the art class. "Snap." She replied.

Over the weeks, their friendship seemed to grow quickly, each one seeking out the other at break time and the more they got to know each other the more natural it seemed, then the long summer break loomed, no classes for six weeks. On the last night, they sat together drinking tea and saying how much they would miss the evening out.

Alan fidgeted for a moment, then he said "Jane, may I say something to you without you taking it the wrong way?"

"Of course, anything."

"Well," he hesitated, it's not just the classes I'll miss, it's our chats, your company. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. You're a married woman."

"And you're a married man," she replied " but that doesn't mean we can't be friends, does it?"

"No, it doesn't." he answered, looking relieved. "Look, do you think it would be OK for us to meet for a drink say, during the holidays, I mean a real drink, not PG Tips. Just as friends I mean. Tell me to get lost if you're offended."

She laughed "I'm not offended, I'm amazed, why on earth would anyone want my boring company?"

"Oh you aren't boring, far from it!" he protested quickly.

"Will you tell your wife you're going out with another woman?"

He looked sheepish "No, I couldn't" he said "she would never believe it was innocent. Does that mean you'll come?"

"Yes, I will come Alan. Thank you for asking me"

"I must be crazy!" she thought "What am I doing? I'm agreeing to a date with a married man!"

"Will you tell your husband?" he asked.

"I'll tell him as much as you tell your wife." She answered.

They met a few days later in a quiet street a short walk from her house. He pulled up and she climbed into his car quickly, feeling like a total fraud. He drove them out to a small country pub where they were both sure that nobody they knew would see them. The place was quiet, and they bought drinks and sat in a corner of the room, both a little nervous of the situation.

"It's crazy we have to do this in secret," he said " but you know what people would think if they saw us."

"I know," she replied "but now we're here lets just relax and enjoy the evening."

"Where does your husband think you are?" he asked her.

"Out with some girls from work."

He laughed "My wife thinks I'm out with the lads," he said "not that I do that much, it's not really my scene."

"What's your wife like?" Jane asked "You never talk about her much."

A shadow crossed his face. "Well, she has health problems," he said "bad arthritis for a start. I think the world of her, but sometimes...."

"Sometimes?" she prompted.

"Well, they say in sickness and in health, but why does it sometimes have to be years of sickness? It doesn't seem fair. I look at other men, with fit healthy wives, walking with them, things like that, and I feel, well, bitter I suppose, and a bit jealous."

She reached out and put her hand on his, then as quickly drew back, realising what she had done. Her fingertips tingled where she had touched his skin, and there was a tightness in her chest that she'd never noticed before. He leaned toward her.

"Can I tell you something very personal Jane? I mean without upsetting you. Something I've never told anyone, but I think of you as a close friend."

"Of course you can, Alan, anything." She said.

"Well," he hesitated "the thing that I really miss is the physical side, you know what I mean?"

Her heart seemed to jump in her chest "Yes, I know what you mean Alan." She replied.

"We haven't done anything like that for ages," he said "she's always in too much pain or too doped up on her painkillers. It's not her fault, but I really miss that side of things.

It's not just the sex, it's the closeness, the sharing."

"Alan, you don't need to explain, I understand." she said. She reached out for his hand again, and this time she didn't draw back. She squeezed his fingers in hers tenderly.

Should she say anything? If she didn't speak now, the moment may be lost forever. Screwing up all her courage, she blurted out "The reason I understand, Alan, is because I'm in the same situation. It's the same between me and my husband."

He looked at her in surprise.

"But Jane, you're a fit healthy woman, and a very attractive one too."

"Oh my God Alan!" she said, a blush rising up her neck and into her face.

"No, I mean it," he said "is there a health problem with your husband?"

"No, nothing like that." She answered. "When the children were young, I was always so tired, and he worked long hours, so he was tired too. It just sort of got less and less often, until it stopped altogether. I suppose I always thought that once the kids were grown and we had more time for ourselves, it would be alright, it would come back, but the years went by and it just never happened. Now I think that we are just so used to living like we do that it never can. We've both just lost the idea of doing it, with each other anyway. I miss it too, but I've just come to accept that it's gone."

He looked at her in amazement "Years? How many years?"

"About nine I think. Since the kids were still at school anyway. Now I have grandchildren."

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at her sadly "I know how it feels."

"Yes," she said, "it's the closeness, the sharing, like you say. Sometimes I lie awake, and he's sleeping, and I just ache for that touching again, but it's just not there with him anymore."

They sat in silence for a while, each wrapped in their thoughts, then both raised their heads at the same time and their eyes met. For a long moment they looked at each other, each wondering if the other was having the same thoughts, neither daring to ask.

Finally Alan broke the silence, his words stumbling, his voice strained.

"We are good friends, aren't we Jane?"

"Yes, of course we are." She whispered, frightened of what may be coming next.

"I wouldn't want to lose that Jane, lose our friendship."

"Why would you Alan?"

"Because, well, because of what I'm thinking, that friends help each other, if they need something, and we both....I mean .....we both..." his voice tailed off.

"We both have the same need." She finished for him, her voice shaking.

"Yes."

She put her hands up to her face, her head lowered, burying herself in her open palms.

"Oh God Jane, I've really blown it haven't I." he said "I should never have spoken. I've ruined everything. I'm so sorry." 

"No, no." she looked up slowly "you haven't done anything Alan. You've just said what was in my thoughts too. Exactly what was in them. If it was anyone else but you I wouldn't even think things like that, but yes it was in my head as well."

They were silent again, then he looked at her, his eyes soft.

"Now that we have said it," he began "is it going to stay as just thoughts? Words? Longings?"

"I don't know." She answered "I don't want it to, but I'm frightened Alan."

This time it was his turn to take her hand, squeeze it gently.

"Did you say you were free all next Monday?" he asked

"Yes, I am."

"Alright, well listen then. I can get the day off too. There's a little hotel I know about half an hours drive from here. Suppose I book a room, and pick you up. We could spend the afternoon there together. If we decide not to do anything, fine, we'll still have had each other's company, but if we do want to take things further, we'll have the time and opportunity. How does that sound."

"It sounds lovely Alan, but if I can't bring myself to....you know...do it....you won't be angry?"

"I could never be angry with you Jane." He said gently.

When he dropped her off later, before she could get out of the car he put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her full on the lips, just for a second. Her head swam and she knew she wanted more. Much more.

"Thanks for a great evening, Jane." He said. "See you Monday, where we arranged?"

"Yes, I'll be there." She said, and got out of the car, almost running the two streets home.

So here she was, on a Monday morning, standing in front of the mirror, wondering how on earth she got to this place.

She stripped and looked at herself from different angles. She'd kept her figure pretty well. Her bust was still quite firm for a woman in her late forties. Her legs were shapely enough, she thought, her stomach still flat, but would he like what he saw if the clothes came off? Was she going to have the courage to take them off?

"I'll bottle out!" she thought "I just know I will!"

She looked at her watch. He was picking her up in less than an hour. She tugged open drawers and rummaged through her wardrobe. What to wear? She wanted to look sexy but not tarty. She found clean and almost new underwear, and a buttoned top over a floaty knee length skirt. Quickly she put on some make up, trying not to overdo it. Giving her hair a last quick brush she left the house and hurried to where she hoped he was waiting.

He was there, his car standing in the street. With a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, she opened the door and climbed in. He hugged her to him and gave her a quick kiss. "Hi." He said.

They drove out to the hotel almost in silence, as if each was afraid to spoil the moment now that it had arrived. He parked the car and they were shown to the room. It was cosy, looking over fields, the furniture a little old fashioned but serviceable. The room was dominated by the big double bed, and both of them carefully avoided looking at it too much as they made themselves comfortable. 

"Would you like to go down to the restaurant for some lunch?" he asked.

"I'm so nervous I don't think I could eat." She replied.

He grinned "Me neither. How about some wine then? I'll have a bottle sent up."

"Yes, that would be fine."

After the wine arrived he poured a glass for each of them, and they sat in two chairs, sipping the sweet liquid. She looked up to find him gazing at her.

"You look beautiful." He said

"You always make me blush!"

"Really, you do. Beautiful."

He stood up, put down his glass and walked over to her. He took her glass and set it down on a table, then he gently took her arms and raised her to her feet. For a long moment he looked into her eyes, then he pulled her to him and kissed her, gently at first, then with more passion, their tongues seeking each other out, their bodies pressed together. Her arms went around his neck and she ran her fingers through his hair. She felt one of his hands move up her back, caressing her, the other slid down, over the waistband of her skirt, the palm kneading and pressing her bottom. Maybe it was the wine, but she felt as if she was floating. The gentle fingers stroked her through her clothes, promising such delights.

Gently he pushed her away a little, his hands came up to stroke her face, then he began to undo the buttons on her top. Mutely she stood and let him, until he slipped it off her shoulders and down her arms. He unbuttoned his own shirt and let if fall, then pulled her close again, kissing her with a deep hunger of years.

She felt his hands on her back, then a sudden release as he unfastened her bra. He stepped back and let it fall away between them. He looked down at her full breasts, the nipples hard with excitement, and gently he reached up to cup them, his palms cradling them. He rubbed his thumbs over the erect nipples and it felt as if lightning had struck her. She pulled him close again and kissed him as hard as she could, their bare flesh pressing together, his chest hair on her nipples, making them swell even more.


"Alan," she gasped "I need to tell you something."

"Anything." He whispered.

"I'm not really experienced," she said "we always did it the same way, him on top, I only know about other things from what I've read. Does that put you off?"

He hugged her to him "No, of course not."

She buried her face in his neck "I always wanted to try things. Does that make me sound like a tart?"

"No, just like a modern woman. What sort of things?"

She gulped, "I always wanted to try.....oral." she managed to say.

"Then we will" he said gently, kissing her cheek.

He let go of her, and knelt down in front of her. Tenderly, he kissed her tummy, then he unfastened her skirt waistband and slid the skirt down her legs until she could step out of it. He looked at the pink cotton panties with the white elastic top, then up at her.

"I don't have any really sexy ones." She said, embarrassed.

"They're just perfect." He said. He stood up again and stood in front of her. "Your turn," he said softly, "undress me lover."

Her hand shaking, she unfastened his belt and undid the top button on his trousers, then slid the zipper down. She pushed them down his legs, and he pulled them off. He was wearing dark briefs, and from the bulge in them he was already excited. She could hardly take her eyes off it.

He took her hand and led her to the double bed, and they kneeled together on it, kissing passionately. He told her to lie back and gently he slid her panties down her legs and off, looking down on her nakedness.

"You're gorgeous!" he said in an awed voice.

He hooked his thumbs in his briefs and slid them off. His cock sprang out, hard and thick, the veins standing out on the shaft. She couldn't take her eyes off it.

He lay down, and she rolled on her side to face him. Their mouths met again, and they kissed deeply and hungrily. She felt his hand stroke her hair, then move down to caress her back, her sides, gliding over her hips and back up. His fingers were so gentle. She felt as if she were melting.

The hand slid between them and cradled her breast. He stroked the nipple and she moaned softly. She ran her hand down his body, over his belly, felt the thick bush of his hair then touched the hard cock. She stroked it and he gave a little murmur of pleasure, and teased her nipple with his fingers.

His hand moved down her body, toward her womanhood, and she opened her legs for him. His fingers stroked the soft skin on the inside of her thigh for a moment, then he cupped her pussy gently in his hand, and his finger parted her sex lips, probing into the moist slit until it found her clitoris and began to circle on it. She gasped and buried her face in his shoulder. Her fingers traced up and down his cock as he petted her, feeling the hard throbbing flesh, the swollen purple end.

For what seemed an age he teased her clitty, then his finger began to move quicker, up and down and in circles, sending almost unbearable sensations through her hips. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as she felt the sensations building inside her. He heard her whimpering quietly as her excitement built to a climax, then she came in a release that made her head spin with the sheer pleasure of it, waves pulsing through her body. She threw her head back and gave a low cry and he felt a warm gush of fluid on his fingers as she shuddered and came under his touch. His own pleasure at doing this for her was almost as great as her own. 

He held her for a long while, kissing her tenderly, then he began to move down her body, sliding down the bed. His lips found a nipple and he sucked it, his tongue flicking around it. She couldn't believe what was happening, her whole body felt on fire from his touch.

He moved further down, his lips and tongue working over her belly. Gently he pushed her onto her back and he moved around between her parted legs. She knew what was going to happen, and she held her breath as he nuzzled in her neat bush, then his probing tongue wormed between her pussy lips and touched her clitoris. Her breath came out in a long low moan of pleasure.

His tongue began to tease her, flicking over her swollen clitty, and he began to lick faster, his head bobbing between her thighs. He could taste her oily, salty fluids, and the scent of her was like wine. His hands slid under her hips and he seemed to be pulling her into his face. She felt a second orgasm building in the pit of her stomach like a low sweet ache and she wondered how this could be happening. He licked even faster, and she bucked her hips upwards as her climax surged through her, from her toes to the top of her head. He heard her moan with the ecstasy of it, and he licked until she was spent, then he moved back up the bed and hugged her close as she came back down to earth.

She lay with her head on his chest, her body still tingling.

"Oh God! Thank you so much Alan. It's been so long, so very long."

"We haven't finished yet." He said, stroking her dark hair.

"Mmmmmm!" she kissed his bare chest. "What do you want me to do?"

"You wanted to try oral, did you mean both ways?" he asked.

"Oh, yes." She answered "Definitely yes."

"Good. I don't want to come in your mouth though. Just do it as foreplay, I'll tell you when I'm ready, then I want to come inside you."

"I want that as well." She whispered.

She moved down his body as he lay back, until her cheek was resting on his stomach. His cock was only inches from face now. It had gone soft while they had been talking, but she took it gently in her fingers and teased it, and she felt it grow hard and thick again in her hand. His hand stroked her back gently and he murmured "That's nice, that's so nice."




Leaves in the Autumn winds



She put out her tongue and with the tip of it she gently licked the end of his cock. He gasped at the touch, and his hips writhed under her.

She moved down another few inches, and took his swollen end between her lips, drawing his cock into her mouth. He tasted of salt and something else. The end of his cock was slightly sticky and she realised he was leaking beads of precum and this was the taste. She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and he whispered "Oh yes! Yes!"

Carefully she sucked and licked him, her fingers stroking the hard shaft of his cock and playing over his balls.

"He's so hard," She thought "and it's because of me, he's hard for me!"

He stroked her back with his fingers as she teased him with her mouth, then after a few minutes he said softly "I'm ready."

She rolled onto her back, and he moved over between her legs, laying along her, his weight on his elbows. He kissed her tenderly, then his hand slid between them and she felt his fingers part her love lips gently, and guide the tip of his cock between them. For a moment he waited, then with a slow thrust he entered her, the length of him sliding deep inside. She made a small sound in her throat, the passion of the moment taking her.

He began to move in her, long slow strokes. She put her arms around him, feeling the back muscles tighten and relax, the thick delicious cock moving in and out of her, their bellies sliding against each other. This was heaven.

He began to move with shorter, faster strokes, fucking her rhythmically, the bed bouncing under them. He looked down on her face, her eyes closed, feeling her warm wet love tunnel round his throbbing cock, her thighs against his hips, her breath on his face. He wanted it to last forever.

He kept up the faster strokes for a few minutes then began the long, slow ones again and she realised he was making it last, delaying his orgasm as he savoured her body, the feel and smell of her, their loins moving together.

Again he began the short, quick strokes, his cock pumping in and out of her in a delightful rhythm. Again he slowed back to long strokes after a while, but the third time he began moving faster he pushed himself up on his hands and began to thrust harder and she knew that he was building up to his climax.

He began to pant in time to the strokes, pants which became soft grunts as he thrust into her, and she wrapped her legs around his, her calves across his thighs. This pushed her hips up and he thrust even deeper, moving faster as he neared climax. She felt a sweet ache inside and thought with amazement "Oh God! I'm going to cum again!"

She bucked her hips to meet his, and suddenly he stiffened, then with a series of shuddering thrusts he emptied himself deep into her in waves of pure pleasure. As he did, he felt her tighten round him and heard her moan and cry out as she came, the sensations blotting out all thought as her body writhed under him and he rode her hips in total ecstasy.

Afterwards, they lay for a long time in each other's arms, talking in whispers, spent and awed by what they had done together. The afternoon faded, and it was almost time to leave.

"Will we do this again?" he asked.

"Oh yes, I really want that." She answered. "There's so much I want to learn, lots I want to try with you."

"Then you shall." He said, kissing her.

He dropped her off where he'd picked her up. She kissed him quickly, and got out of the car. She walked hurriedly toward her home. Everything was still the same, and yet everything had changed. The future was going to be very interesting.



Leaves of Three Let Them Be



This is a story about a boy and his grandmother. It is purely a fantasy and was written just for the fun of it. I hope you like it.

*****

Bradley Marshall walked along the trail forty or so yards ahead of his grandmother taking in all the forest had to offer. After spending his entire eighteen years of life in the concrete jungle of the city, the forest around him was a world of unimaginable beauty. The sight of lush green trees bursting with spring foliage and bushes sprouting spectacular flowers in every shape and color assaulted his senses. And the air, he couldn't believe how crisp and clear it was. He was happy that he'd chose to spend the summer here instead of going to the coast like his family always did in the spring. Up ahead he noticed the trail turned sharply to the left. He slowed just a little when he heard his grandma say, "Bradley honey, don't get too far ahead." 

Myrtle watched as her grandson strolled ahead of her getting farther away than she was comfortable with. She was all too aware that he'd never been in the woods before and was worried that he might get sidetracked if she didn't keep him in sight. She chuckled to herself as she watched his head swivel around trying to take everything in at the same time. She was pleased that he was here. Of all her grandkids Bradley was the one that had always been closest to her. On her visits to her son's house the other kids just asked what she'd brought them, but not Bradley. Since her husband Abe had passed away eight years ago he had always asked if there was anything he could do for her. They grew close over the years, or at least as close as one could get when you only saw each other three or four times a year. He was headed off to college come fall so she'd asked if he wanted to come stay with her for the summer. The trail they were on stretched for several miles into the woods and was popular with day hikers and mountain bikers alike. To reach the trail from her place only took a minute since it intersected her property near the roadway. She grew a little irritated when he didn't wait for her and his lanky frame disappeared around a bend.

Just when he rounded the turn sunlight flashed off something shiny to his left in the underbrush. He couldn't quite make out what it was from where he stood so he stepped off the trail and went over to investigate. The cargo shorts he was wearing didn't help stop the underbrush from scraping against his legs but he was determined to find out what the shiny object was. It turned out to be a discarded bent rim from a mountain bike. Picking it up with one hand he examined it closely. Just as he was about to put it down he heard his grandma call out sharply.

"Bradley! Put that down and get over here right now!"

The tone of her voice shocked him. Not once had he ever heard her raise her voice, at least not to him anyway. Dropping the rim he trudged up the slight incline and back onto the trail. Once he was near her she asked if he'd touched the rim with both hands. After he told her no she had him hold out the hand he'd grabbed the rim with and quickly wrapped it with a bandana she pulled out of her back pocket. He was confused. When he asked her why she was wrapping his hand she told him it was so he wouldn't touch any part of his body with it. He was even more confused by that. He noticed the look she was giving him; one of sadness mixed with anxiety. 

"There's an old saying when you're out in the woods," she said, as she secured the bandana around his hand with bobby pins she removed from her blackish-grey hair.

"What saying Grandma?"

Looking up into his eyes she simply replied, "Leaves of three let them be."

Bradley's confusion was evident on his young face so she explained that he'd been standing in a patch of poison oak. 

"Poison Oak! Am I gonna die?" he squealed in fright.

"No sweetie, you're not going to die," she chuckled. She was amused that he was so much like his dad, a city slicker through and through.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, but I need to get you back to the house so I can take care of this right away."

On the way back she had to constantly reassure him that everything was going to be okay. She also told him that he wasn't going to like the treatment she was about to administer but it had to be done to stop the urushiol oil from spreading. By the time they reached the house she had explained the effects of poison oak to him. She told him that if they could get as much of the oil off as possible there was a good chance that he'd be as good as new in a few days or so. By the worried look on his face she was fairly sure that he wasn't as confident about that as she was.

"Your Grandpa did this a couple of times, so relax and I'll take care of everything," she said as soothingly as she could.

"So you've dealt with this before?" Bradley asked, a glimmer of hope slipping into his voice. 

Myrtle laughingly said, "More times than I care to think about. Although I think Abe deliberately got infected a time or two because he liked the attention."

"The attention?"

"You'll understand when we get home." 

The hike back to her house took a little over fifteen minutes. Instead of going inside Myrtle had him follow her out into the back yard and told him to wait for her. She went inside and came back out wearing the bright yellow rubber gloves that she used for washing the dishes. She was also carrying a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a bar of soap and two washcloths. She sat these items on the rickety old picnic table on the back patio before going and grabbing the garden hose. Once she had it uncoiled and ready to use she gave him a serious look and told him to strip off all his clothes.

"What?" he croaked.

"Now's not the time to be bashful young man. I know it's gonna be a little awkward but it has to be done. Now strip out of those clothes and don't touch any part of yourself with the one hand."

"But Grandma, I don't think that stuff touched me anywhere except my legs."

"No buts mister! Better to be safe than sorry. Besides, you haven't got anything I haven't seen before," she barked.

Bradley stared at her for a few seconds before untying his shoelaces and kicking his shoes off. Next he removed his socks and t-shirt. Getting his pants and boxers down with only one hand was challenging but not impossible. When he straightened back up and glanced at her he noticed an odd look on her face. She almost appeared to be in a daze.

Myrtle watched her grandson remove his shoes, socks and shirt. When he started lowering his shorts and boxers she realized that she had been wrong. He did have something she'd never seen before. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she stared openly at her grandson's dangling dick and balls. Even soft his dick was almost as big as her late husbands when it was fully aroused. Of course she knew that really wasn't saying much since her husband's penis hadn't been that big in the first place. But still, what she was looking at was pretty impressive. A tingle started in the pit of her stomach and traveled downward where it settled into her moistening crotch. Suddenly a shudder raced through her and she felt her pussy contracting.

"Whoa," she uttered softly and shuddered once more.

"You okay Grandma?" 

"Yeah, just got a cold chill is all," she replied, silently reeling from the effects of her unexpected orgasm.

He wasn't sure what had just happened but he was positive it had nothing to do with a cold chill. The embarrassment of standing naked in front of her was making him a little uneasy. Hoping to speed up whatever she had planned he asked her what was next. He wasn't too thrilled by her answer. She explained that she was going to hose him down so the cold water would close his pores. When he was good and wet she was going to wash him all over with soap to help remove some of the urushiol oil. Then she planned on taking the rubbing alcohol and wiping him down with it. She told him that would remove even more of the oil. For reasons he couldn't figure out, the idea of his grandmother rubbing soap all over his body caused a tingling sensation to course through him. Was she really going to scrub his junk too? Was it odd that he hoped she was he wondered. 

Myrtle was almost positive she saw his dick twitch right before she turned the hose on him. When the cold water hit him his squeals were so loud that she thought the neighbors would be able to hear them even though they were nearly half a mile away. She watched with a perverse sense of wonder as his nipples hardened, his balls shriveled and tried to crawl back into his body, and his dick was no longer dangling as low as it had been. Once he was thoroughly soaked she put down the hose and lathered up one of the washcloths.

"Now comes the awkward part. If it'll help, just close your eyes and pretend I'm a nurse putting on medication or something," she said.

"I don't know if that'll help but okay," Bradley replied, shutting his eyes as tightly as he could. 

He tried to think of things that would take his mind off the sensation of feeling her touching him everywhere. At first it worked. But when she ran the cloth between his butt cheeks he knew things were about to get real awkward. 

Starting at his shoulders Myrtle scrubbed his back and armpits before venturing down to his ass. She felt him squirm slightly as she washed that area. Keeping the washcloth wet and lathered up she worked her way down the backs of his legs then got in front of him and started up the front of his legs. She deliberately avoided his crotch until she'd finished with his chest and stomach. Steeling her nerve she proceeded to finish the job at hand. She could feel her hands trembling a little as she took hold of his cock and began to wash it.

Using every ounce of willpower he possessed Bradley was able to control himself as he felt her heft his balls in one hand while washing under them with the other. However, no amount of willpower helped once she wrapped the washcloth around his cock and started scrubbing that. It felt like she was giving him a handjob. Slowly blood flowed into his dick and he felt it start to throb. It felt so good he abandoned his efforts to stop from getting hard. Now he prayed that she wouldn't stop.

She felt his cock growing in her hand as she washed it. Part of her wanted to keep going just to see how big it would get, but the grandmotherly part of her won out. Picking up the hose she doused him with the cold water once again. By the time she finished hosing him off his dick was no longer continuing to harden. She was sure that if it hadn't been for the cold water he would've had a full-blown erection. The last thing she washed was the hand that had held the old rim. Reminding him not to touch himself with it she went inside and came back with several large towels. Once he was thoroughly dried off she soaked the other washcloth with the rubbing alcohol and worked it all over his hand and everything below his navel. Satisfied with her work she gathered everything up except her yellow gloves and placed them in a plastic garbage bag. She figured she could wash the clothing, towels and washcloths later but knew the shoes had to go.

"We still have one more thing to do Bradley," Myrtle said.

"What?" he asked, resigning himself to the fact that his embarrassment wasn't over yet.

"Go get another towel and meet me in the kitchen," she told him walking away before he could ask anything else.

There was only one towel in the bathroom so he took it and went to the kitchen. His grandma was sitting on a dinning room chair facing away from the table. He handed her the towel which she placed on the table next to a bottle of what looked like baby oil. Now what he wondered?

Myrtle had watched him as he came toward her with the towel in his hand, his cock and balls swinging with each step he took. The tingling in the pit of her stomach returned. She tried to block the image from her mind but couldn't.

"I think we did a pretty good job of removing most of the urushiol oil from your skin, but I think we should do one more thing to be safe," she said, gazing into his eyes so she wouldn't be tempted to look at his hanging cock.

"Now what do we need to do?" Bradley asked, praying that it had something to do with her touching his cock again.

"The rubbing alcohol will dry out your skin, especially in you private areas. So what I'm going to do is apply a coat of baby oil on that area. I know this is embarrassing for you, and for me, but it really should be done."

Not wanting to appear too eager he asked, "Can't I just put it on myself?"

"You could, but I'm worried you might miss a spot or two," she replied.

"Okay, whatever you think is best Grandma. Don't you need to put on gloves or something?"

"I think it'll be okay without them, that area probably didn't get infected. Turn around and I'll start on your backside."

He turned his back to her and waited. As soon as her hands cupped his butt cheeks and started rubbing in the oil he could feel the stirrings of an erection coming on. Her hands were warm and when she ran a fingertip over his anus he clinched his cheeks almost trapping her fingers in his butt crack. He felt the tip of a finger briefly dip into his hole before it moved away. When she put her hands on his hips to turn him around he tried to stall hoping his cock would stop growing. It didn't.

Using a little more force she was able to coax him to turn around for her. Myrtle couldn't believe her eyes; his cock was half hard already. Pouring more oil in her palms she reached out and cupped his weighty balls and began rolling them around her palms. She heard a groan escape his lips as she worked the oil under and around his sack. Looking up into his face she saw that his eyes were clinched shut. While one hand remained cupping his balls she placed the fingers of her other hand around the shaft of his penis and squeezed. She looked away from his face and gazed back at his expanding penis, a drop of pre-cum dripped from the tip of it. Pouring a little more oil onto the shaft of his cock she began using both hands to work it in. As her fingers worked in the oil his cock swelled to it's full length and began to throb in her hands. Heat was pouring off it and making the palms of her hands hot. The tingle in her tummy spread as she took in the size of her grandson's cock. It had to be at least seven or eight inches long she guessed. Her fingers couldn't quite reach all the way around its thickness either. She began rubbing in the oil faster and faster without realizing she was doing it. Her heart hammered in her chest as the wetness flowing from her cunt soaked the crotch of her panties.

"Uh, Grandma?" Bradley stuttered as her hands sped up. 

Myrtle didn't answer, she was too lost in watching her hands pumping the thick hard cock in them to even hear him. The oil glistened off the thick tube of cock as her hands continued to speed up. Leaning forward a little she watched more pre-cum dribble out the tip of it.

"Grandma...please...stop..." Bradley groaned, his hips automatically thrusting forward to meet her downward strokes.

"Almost done," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

There was nothing he could do. He surrendered to the immense pleasure coursing through his body as his grandmother's hands took him to heights he'd never known existed. 

"OH SHIT GRANDMA!" he bellowed as his cock spit forth thick ropes of cum.

The first glob of cum caught Myrtle completely by surprise and hit her on the left cheek just below her eye. The second blob of goo hit her in the neck as she reared back, while the third and forth rope splashed onto her chest. Startled she looked up and saw the shocked face of her grandson staring back at her.

"Oh God Grandma, I'm so, so sorry." Bradley was almost in a panic.

"Well, uh, I wasn't... expecting that to happen," Myrtle stammered, feeling the hot glob of cum ooze down her cheek near the corner of her mouth. 

"I tried to warn you Grandma," Bradley squeaked pathetically. 

Slowly getting to her feet she told him to just put on his pajamas for the rest of the day while she took a shower. As she headed to the bathroom her tongue stretched out and licked the corner of her mouth. The taste of his sperm sent a shiver up her spine. Safely in the bathroom she quickly undressed and jumped into the shower without bothering to wipe the cum off her cheek. She let the water wash it down her body as she held her face under the spray. Once it was gone she started lathering herself up with soap, her nipples popping to attention every time she ran the washcloth over them. When she ran the cloth over her stomach and then between her legs a sudden shudder coursed through her almost causing her to lose her balance. Leaning forward she placed her hands against the shower wall and waited till her breathing returned to normal.

"Get a hold of yourself girl," she whispered to herself. Turning the water off she noticed there weren't any towels in the bathroom.

Bradley watched her walk toward the bathroom; it seemed to him that she was a little unsteady on her feet. Probably pissed to the max he thought. Heading into his room he put on a pair of pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt then sat down on the bed. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, but he knew he had to apologize some more. Whether or not it was his fault didn't matter, although he did try to get her to stop. As he sat there pondering what to do he heard her call out and ask him to bring her a towel. Gathering one from the linen closet he went to the bathroom and knocked softly on the door. When he told her he had a towel she said it was okay to come in. Hesitantly he opened the door and stepped in. He needn't have been worried; the dark brown shower curtain hid her from view. Laying the towel on the sink he went out forgetting to shut the door all the way. Halfway back to his room he realized his mistake and turned to go close it the rest of the way.

Just before he reached the doorway he realized that he could see inside the bathroom through the mirror above the sink. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her open the shower curtain exposing all of herself to his astonished eyes. All of his life this five foot one inch woman had been only one thing to him, his Grandmother. Now, and especially after what had happened in the kitchen, his mind was starting to picture her in a whole different light. His eyes took her all in as he stood there frozen in place. Everything about her was small, from her tiny hands and feet to the small upturned breasts that he couldn't take his eyes off of. Even her light brown areolas were small, almost boyish in size. Her stomach was flat, her hips narrow and the salt and pepper bush covering her pussy was thick yet neatly trimmed. Without realizing he was doing it his hand slid into his pants and grabbed hold of his enlarging cock. After she stepped out of the shower he saw her pick up the towel then turn in such a way that he had a clear view of her ass. He knew that she was close to sixty and expected her butt to be flabby, or wrinkled, or something. To his great and joyous delight, it was anything but. Both of her cheeks were round and smooth and were as firm as his. The hand in his pants started stroking on its own. 

Myrtle stepped from the shower and grabbed the towel. Just as she brought it up to dry her face she noticed that Bradley hadn't shut the door all the way. She was debating on closing it when a reflection in the mirror caught her eye. It was Bradley standing just outside in the hall staring at her through the mirror. For reasons she couldn't even begin to explain to herself, instead of going over and shutting the door she turned her backside so it was facing the mirror and began to slowly dry herself off. Knowing that her grandson was watching had a strange effect on her. She was unable to quell the tingling in the pit of her stomach as it worked its way down towards her pussy.




Leaves of Three Let Them Be



She knew the right thing to do was go over and gently shut the door, but the thought of her grandson gazing at her naked body was doing things to her that hadn't happened in a very long time. Her arousal was escalating. She could feel her pussy growing wet and her nipples stiffening. She felt giddy. As she turned back around she snuck a peek in the mirror and saw him still standing there. His eyes were wide and he had a hand in his pants. It was obvious to her by the movement under the material that he was jacking off. A vision of his hard thick cock popped into her head causing the tingle in her twat to be almost more than she could bear. As casually as possible she went over and gently closed the door.

He saw her hazel eyes stare directly at him as she came over and pushed the door closed. He was positive he'd seen a small smile flicker on her lips before the door had shut all the way. Red faced he returned to his room and shut the door tightly behind him. His breathing was ragged and his heart thumped in his chest. Instead of sitting on the bed he leaned back against the door and pulled his cock out of his pants. It didn't take long before streams of cum gushed out and splattered on the floor in front of him. Exhausted from the release he took off his shirt and wiped the mess up before falling on the bed and slipping into a dream filled sleep.

"What in the hell is wrong with you Myrtle? He's your Grandson for Christ sakes," she scolded herself as she leaned on the sink with one hand. The self-reprimand didn't stop the two fingers that were rapidly going in and out of her wet cunt; it didn't even slow them down any. 

The first thing he noticed when he woke was how much his lower legs were itching. Reaching down he began to scratch them through the fabric of his pajamas. Just as he was really getting into scratching he remembered that grandma had told him to let her know if they started itching. Climbing out of bed he went looking for her. He found her in the laundry room bent over putting a load into the dryer. She had her shoulder-length hair in a ponytail and was wearing an oversized t-shirt. The shirt had ridden up almost to her butt as she leaned over to put the clothes in the dryer. From where he stood behind her he could see the muscles in the backs of her thighs were stretched taught from the effort.

Myrtle sensed him behind her but didn't let on that she knew. She was aware that the shirt was short, and she was also aware that she wasn't wearing any panties. A tiny thrill floated through her as she leaned further forward and acted like she was rearranging the clothes in the dryer. She felt the hem of the shirt ride up a little higher. She also heard the soft groan that escaped his lips.

He was unable to stifle the groan as he watched her shirt hike up enough for him to see that she didn't have any panties on. Her furry pussy was clearly on display. Being a child of the techno age he'd done his fair share of porn surfing, but he'd never seen a pussy in real life. The one he had his eyes glued to was different than all the ones he had seen on the net. The inner lips of this one were quite meaty and extended out past the furry outer folds. They reminded him of tiny butterfly wings and they looked damp. Another groan slipped from his lips. He knew she'd heard that one because she slowly straightened and turned to face him. Her face was slightly flushed.

She listened as he told her about the itching. She had him lift his pants legs and was relieve to see that the rash on them wasn't anywhere near as bad as it could have been. Taking his hand she led him into the bathroom then squatted in front of him and covered the effected areas with calamine lotion. She could see the look of relief on his face as the itching became tolerable. She also noticed that his eyes were centered on the space between her spread knees.

Bradley felt the itching start to fade as soon as she started putting the lotion on. Watching her apply it he noticed that he was able to see between her legs. He wasn't able to see all the way up to her pussy, but the smooth white skin of her inner thighs had his dick swelling once more.

She noticed the slight bulge in the front of his pants as she rose. The tingle in her twat she'd felt earlier returned. She told him to put more lotion on later, washed her hands and hurried from the room.

That night as she lay in bed she couldn't help but be confused by her actions. She knew she had deliberately teased the boy. Why she had done it, and why she'd gotten such a perverse thrill out of it was what she couldn't understand. Just because it has been eight years since she'd been with a man didn't mean that her grandson was fair game. Or did it? As these thoughts drifted around her head they were gradually replaced by a vision of his cock fully engorged. Slowly her hand crept down over her tummy and ended up between her legs. She closed her eyes and let the tingling sensations run through her as her fingertips rotated in circles over her clit with ever increasing force. "Oh Bradley," she moaned as her pussy contracted violently. 

While Myrtle was pleasuring herself Bradley was lying in bed doing the same thing. His fist pumped his meat as visions of his grandmother's pussy burned in his brain. Faster and faster he stroked his raging cock until his balls tightened and thick white streams of sperm shot out. "Oh God Grandma," he groaned as the thick globs of sticky spunk landed on his chest and stomach. When he came down from the euphoria of his climax he began to feel a little disgusted about thinking of her in such a manner. Guys didn't think of their Grandmothers in such a way, did they? His dreams were filled with nothing but thoughts of his Grandma, his naked Grandma. 

Over the next several days their routine hardly varied. They would get up and she would make sure that he applied the lotion. Three times a day she made him take luke warm showers and was glad to see that the rash was quickly fading. They ate breakfast, lunch and dinner. While most of Bradley's free time was spent in front of the TV, she spent most of hers out in the yard working on her garden or tending to the flowers that bloomed all around the place. In the evenings they sometimes spent time on the porch talking or just listening to the sounds of the country. Not once since it had happened was the topic of him blasting a load on her face brought up.

By the evening of the seventh day the rash and itching had gone away. They were out on the porch watching the sun go down when she asked if he'd like to finish their hike. The thought of going back up the trail and possibly getting another case of poison oak didn't really appeal to him. The idea suddenly became more appealing when she mentioned she knew of a place where they could have a secluded picnic and a possible swim. The only problem he told her was he didn't bring any swim trunks with him. She laughed and told him that was okay, he could just swim in his boxers or go skinny-dipping. He wasn't sure if she was being serious or not about the skinny-dipping. They sat there for some time before Bradley started feeling tired and told her he was going to bed. After standing he bent down to give her a peck on the cheek.

Myrtle was lost in thought when she heard him say goodnight. Turning her head she was about to say the same when she saw him leaning in to kiss her. Instead of turning her cheek to him like she always did she let his lips settle down on hers. It was a brief kiss, but a nice one all the same. She could feel the tingling begin as he walked away. By the time she finally rose and headed off to bed the tingling was centered in her crotch. As she passed Bradley's bedroom door she heard him groaning. Thinking he might be in pain or the itching had returned she quietly opened the door. The sight that greeted her took her breath away. Bradley was lying on the bed with his eyes screwed shut and he was pumping his hard thick cock with both hands. With the door open she was able to hear that he wasn't groaning at all. He was talking softly saying, "Oh yes Grandma, that feels so good."

She could hear his words repeating themselves over and over as she fled to her own bedroom. She couldn't remember if she'd closed his door, nor was she aware that she hadn't closed hers. All she knew was that she had to fix the ache in her pussy. Ripping her clothes off she threw herself face down across the bed and reached under to cup her mound. Using the tips of two fingers she began to massage the inflamed bud of her clitoris. Faster and faster she worked the nub as her hips bucked against her hand. The tingling grew until it was a pulsating throb. Sliding her fingers lower she plunged them up into her soaked steamy cunt. Her bucking hips turned into a thrashing frenzy of movement as she rode her fingers toward the bliss that awaited her.

Bradley heard a small gasp and opened his eyes. He saw that his door was opened partially and what looked like a figure stepping hastily away from it. Jumping out of bed he stepped out into the hall just in time to see his grandmother going into her room. Had she seen him jacking off? Worse yet, had she heard what he had been saying? Fear clutched at his chest as he slowly made his way to her room. He had to apologize right away. Her door was wide open when he got there, but he pulled up short of entering when he saw what she was doing. His deflating cock swelled back to a raging boner as he watched her. The angle she was in gave him a perfect view between her spread legs. Shocked and excited at the same time he watched her smooth ass go up and down as her fingers slid easily into her pussy. Her face was buried in the mattress but he could still hear her stifled moans. He began pulling on his cock, matching her up and down rhythm as best he could. Her moans grew louder and her fingers sank deeper into her cunt as her hips bounced on her hand. He had already been close to cumming and the sight of her slick, cream coated fingers pushed him over the edge. Wad after wad of cum flew across the empty space between him and the bed before landing in a gooey mess on the floor. On wobbly legs he backpedaled out of the doorway and then turned and rushed back to his room. He prayed that she wouldn't notice the mess on the floor before it dried.

Her orgasm hit her like a bolt of lightning. Her body didn't stop shaking for over five minutes as she lay there face down bathing in the glow of her self-gratification. When she was finally able to roll onto her back she noticed she hadn't shut her door. Sitting up she felt light headed. As she sat there her eyes began to focus and she noticed what looked like a wet spot on the floor just inside the room. Getting off the bed she went to the spot and bent down to examine it. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked aloud. Dipping the tip of a finger into the slime she brought it up to her nose and sniffed. Still not sure if it was what she thought it was she let the tip of her tongue snake out and lick her fingertip. Instantly she knew what it was, and just as instantly knew that Bradley had seen her masturbating. Her embarrassment at being caught didn't even come close to the excitement she felt at knowing he had shot a load while watching her pleasure herself. Leaving the mess to dry where it was she lay back down on the bed and began gently rubbing her clit with one hand while the other tweaked her stiff nipples.

Unlike Myrtle's embarrassment, Bradley's had only grown stronger during the night. Crawling out of bed around nine the next day he was full of dread at having to face his grandmother. He told himself that he'd come clean about calling out to her as he beat off, but only if she brought the subject up. Dressed in his cargo shorts, t-shirt and new hiking boots he made his way to the kitchen for breakfast. Myrtle was there dressed in an ankle-length faded denim dress with straps over the shoulders to hold it up. It was snug around her chest but flared out when it passed her tiny waist. There was a thick sturdy brass zipper running from the neckline all the way down to the hem. On her feet she wore a pair of hiking boots similar to his. For some reason pictures of hippie girls from the late sixties popped into his head. She gave him a warm smile that went a long way in relieving the tension he was feeling inside. Maybe things would be okay after all he thought.

"Looks like you're all ready for our little adventure today," she said after seeing how he was dressed. 

"Looking forward to it Grandma. I like your dress by the way," he casually remarked.

Chuckling she told him that she'd had the dress since she couldn't remember when.

"Well, it looks good on you. Reminds me of hippies."

"Ah yes, the age of Aquarius and free love. Those were good times," Myrtle sighed.

Intrigued he asked if she had been a hippie. Laughing she said she had wanted to be one. She had even wanted to go to Woodstock but was only fourteen at the time and her parents weren't that liberal. She did tell him that she'd smoked pot and that on occasion still did. When he told her that he'd tried it once but it didn't do anything to him she laughed even harder than before. 

"Did you inhale?" she snickered.

"I'm not sure. Maybe I should try it again, only this time I'd make sure I did inhale," he chuckled.

After they ate a light breakfast Myrtle packed some sandwiches, towels, sunscreen, and a couple of sodas in a rucksack for their lunch. She had made him promise to stay on the trail at all times, something he wholeheartedly promised to do, and by ten they were on their way. Bradley carried the rucksack on his back while Myrtle carried a comforter tucked under one arm. She set an easy pace to allow him to once again take in the beauty around them. When they passed the spot where he had found the rim she noticed him cringe a bit. Glancing over she saw it still lying in the underbrush. Once they were about a half-mile further she had him stop while she scanned the trail in both directions. 

"Something wrong Grandma?" he asked, following her lead and scanning the trail too.

"No. Just want to make sure we're alone before I show you a secret only the locals know about," she replied.

"What secret?"

Instead of answering him she pushed through a stand of small pines growing near the trail and disappeared from sight. Unsure where she was going he pushed through and saw her floppy brimmed hat about ten yards in front of him. She was waiting for him on what looked like a path that hadn't been used that often lately. When he caught up to her she told him to watch his step and follow her. The path angled off the main trail and went down a slight incline through the trees. After they'd gone about two hundred yards into the woods Bradley began to hear the sounds of running water. Just when he was starting to wonder how much longer they were going to walk a small grass covered clearing came into view. It was nestled up against a pool of water that had branched out from the river to form its own gentle pond. The perfect swimming hole he thought.

"It's beautiful here Grandma," he said as she spread out the comforter near the bank.

Finished with the comforter she stood up and gave him a big smile. "Your grandpa and I used to come here all the time."

Even though she was smiling he could see a hint of sadness in her eyes. For some reason he felt compelled to give her a hug. Dropping the rucksack he went over and took her in his arms knocking the hat off her head with his chest as he pulled her in to him. At first he could tell she was startled that he was hugging her, but when she wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his body he knew it had been the right thing to do. He felt a small tremor run through her just before they separated.

Myrtle pushed away from him and quickly turned around. She didn't want him to see how flushed her face was and how much her chest was heaving just from having his body against hers. Her dreams over the last week had engulfed her in a world where everything was permissible, including having sex with her grandson. She had masturbated almost every night thinking about him and his big hard cock. She knew it was wrong and tried to fight her urges, but every time she tried a vision of him stroking his cock while calling out to her would worm its way into her brain. She made her way to the comforter and sat down to take off her boots.

He sat in front of her and did the same thing. After he had his boots and socks off he shrugged out of his shirt and headed over to the water. Looking into the clear water he could see the bottom was mostly sand. There was a small ledge near the shore so he carefully put one foot in and then the other. It was cold. Not so cold that he couldn't swim in it, but cold enough that he knew he wouldn't be in it very long. Turning he asked if she was coming in too. 

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," she told him as she devoured his youthful body with her eyes.

"Neither did I," he responded.

"Yeah, but you have shorts on."

"Then just go in your bra and panties. I'll just wear my boxers if that'll help." 

"I can't do that. Besides, I'm not wearing a bra," she laughed.

"Okay, then just wear your panties, I promise I won't look." He knew that was a lie. He wanted desperately to see her again, if not completely naked at least topless.

She knew it was a lie too. She also knew that a part of her wanted to expose herself to him. It wasn't like he hadn't already seen her tits she mused. Hell, for that matter he had even seen her with her fingers up her pussy. So what would be the harm in letting him see her bare boobs she asked herself. Slowly she got to her feet and began to pull the zipper down the front of her dress. The lower it went the more she felt the tingle building up in her crotch. By the time she had her dress completely unzipped her pussy was quite damp. 

Bradley's eyes widened in disbelief as he watched her lower the zipper, he couldn't believe she was actually going to do it. When the two halves of her dress parted and her small breasts were out in the open he could feel the blood pouring into his cock. It looked to him like her nipples were hard. As the dress slid off her shoulders he lowered his eyes and saw that she had on a pair of white cotton panties. For some reason he expected to see granny panties, not the hip hugging bikini style she had on. He looked into her face and saw the apprehension in her eyes as she stared back at him. 

At first she was worried that he wouldn't like what he saw out in the brightness of the day. To see someone naked inside a dim house was one thing, but out here in the open was something else all together. When her eyes strayed down to his crotch she knew he approved. The growing bulge in his pants was testament to that. She smiled and received a goofy one from him in return. 

"Okay, your turn," she said.

She watched him step onto the bank and begin to undo his pants. When he began to push them down she expected to see his boxers. What she saw instead was his semi hard cock slowly coming into view. The dampness in her pussy grew wetter as she stepped over to where he stood.

"Where's your underwear?" she asked, unable to tear her eyes off his dangling cock and balls.

"You said I could go skinny-dipping so I didn't put any on," he replied with a chuckle.

"Why you little shit, you tricked me."

"It was the only way I could get you to take off your dress and join me."

"Well, how's this for a trick?"

With that she placed both hands on his chest and pushed him backwards sending him splashing into the chilly water. Unfortunately for her the momentum of her shove caused her to lose her balance and she followed him into the water landing on top of him. The water was only three feet near the edge of the natural pond. As she struggled to plant her feet on the sandy bottom she felt his arms go around her waist. Effortlessly he stood up lifting her with him as he went. Once their heads were out of the water she realized that she had her legs scissored tightly around his hips with her arms hung around his neck. She also realized that she could feel his cock pressed into her panty-covered crotch.




Leaves of Three Let Them Be



When she landed on top of him he instinctively wrapped his arms around her and planted his feet on the bottom. As he stood he felt her legs go around him and her arms encircle his neck for support. Once he was standing he felt the softness of her crotch rubbing against his cock and the points of her stiff nipples pressed into his chest. The cold water had deflated his growing cock a bit, but the feel of his grandmother's pussy pushing into it brought it back to life in a hurry. He felt her legs tighten around him as his cock expanded against her covered cunt.

Myrtle couldn't help herself. She ground her crotch against the cock that was rapidly swelling between her legs. She could feel the shaft pressing into the folds of her pussy and getting harder by the second. A tremor shuddered through her and she fought to stifle the moan that threatened to tell her grandson that she'd just had an orgasm while pressed against his thick cock. Quickly she unwrapped herself from him and swam out into deeper water, tiny spasms still rippling through her soaked cunt. 

He had felt the shudder that had raced through her. He had also seen the look on her face as she pushed away from him. Even in the cold water his cock refused to go down at first. Once he had his dick under control he casually swam out to where she was treading water and rolled over so he could float on his back. She saw what he was doing and did the same thing. For over fifteen minutes they floated in the clear water just staring up at the blue sky, each lost in their own thoughts. When Myrtle started heading toward the shore he followed. As she stood up and climbed out he noticed that he could see through her panties.

"You might as well take those off and let them dry Grandma," he told her as she walked toward the comforter.

Glancing down she saw the triangle of pubic hair through the material and realized that he could too. Exposing her tits was one thing, but she knew that if she took off her panties things could get out of hand. She'd seen his cock getting hard as he stared at her. The thought of having that thick dick inside her sent a chill up her spine. No, she decided, the panties had to stay on otherwise she knew she would give in to her unholy urges. God, if only he weren't her grandson she thought. Without looking at him she reached down and picked up a towel. She could've sworn she heard him groan when she wrapped it around her body. It took a while before he joined her on the comforter. Reaching into the rucksack she fished out the sandwiches and sodas. They ate in silence wrapped in their towels, each stealing a glance at the other when they weren't looking.

"Abe and I used to come here a lot before he passed. It's so peaceful," she said after swallowing the last bite of her sandwich.

"Did he like to come here to swim?" Bradley asked noting the melancholy sound in her voice.

"He was more into coming here to relax. We'd smoke some pot, swim a little and just relax among other things," she replied with a snicker.

"What other things Grandma?"

"Let's just say it was something that was pleasant for both of us," she said softly.

"Oh. Ohhhhhh," he said when it dawned on him what she'd meant.

Turning to look at his wide-eyed face she asked, "Were you serious about wanting to try pot again?"

"Sure."

"Good."

He watched as she reached inside the rucksack and after a bit of rustling around in it she pulled out a case that eyeglasses came in. When she opened it he saw that it contained two homemade rolled cigarettes and a lighter. She removed the lighter and one of the joints then put it in her mouth. She lit the end and took a deep drag, holding the smoke in longer than he thought was possible.

"Here, you try it. Just remember to hold the smoke in as long as you can," she said as she passed over the joint.

The first drag he took had him coughing up a storm, while she busted a gut laughing at him. Determined to get it right he took another deep drag and held it as long as he could. He saw the approval in her eyes when he passed it back to her. By the time they finished it he was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so relaxed.

"Good stuff huh?" she asked, sounding far away to him.

"Oh yeah," he sighed as he lay back on the comforter with his hands propped behind his head.

"We'll have to come here a lot this summer," Myrtle said as she rolled over onto her tummy and tucked her hands under her head for a pillow.

After a few minutes of lying there he rolled onto his side facing her. Propping his head up with a bent arm he stared at her. Her face was toward him and he could see her eyes were closed. He also noticed the towel wrapped around her had slid up her thighs almost to her butt. Being here with her was nice he thought as the sun warmed his outer body, while the love he felt for her warmed him inside. Scooting over next to her he reached out and began to rub her towel covered back.

"Mmm, that feels good," she murmured as his hand rubbed the small of her back.

"I love you Grandma," he whispered as he watched the towel ride further up on her cheeks from the pressure of his hand.

"I love you too Bradley," she replied dreamily.

"Would you like me to rub some sunscreen on you? I don't want you to burn," he said, his eyes glued to her now exposed panty-covered buns.

"That sounds like a good idea, thanks." 

"You'll have to remove your towel," he said, his voice trembling a little.

"Okay." Reaching under herself she separated the two halves and pulled the towel up over her head. Tucking it under her face for a pillow she settled back down and waited with nervous anticipation for the feel of his hands to start roaming over her body. She could feel the dampness growing in her cunt just from the thought of it.

Retrieving the sunscreen from the pack he turned toward her and knelt by her side. He stared at her ass briefly and saw that the panties had dried enough that they were no longer see-thru. Bummer, he mused as he squirted a glob of sunscreen onto the small of her back. His hands shook at first, but steadied as he worked the lotion into her skin. After about ten minutes of working the sunscreen into her lower back, stopping just short of reaching the waistband of her panties, he placed a dab of lotion between her shoulder blades. The angle he had to be at in order to rub it into her shoulders made his back hurt slightly. 

"It's kind of hard to reach your shoulders without my back hurting Grandma. Would it be okay if I sat on the backs of your thighs? I won't put too much weight on them."

Myrtle's mind raced. She knew he only had a towel covering himself, and knew that if he sat on her legs she'd be able to feel at least his balls touching her. Questions bounced around her brain. Should she say yes? Would she be able to control herself? How would it feel to have his hairy balls resting on her skin? Would she be able to feel his cock too? Her pussy grew wetter. 

"That would be okay honey," she answered, her voice breaking a little.

Sliding down even with her thighs Bradley quickly realized that the towel wrapped around himself wouldn't allow his legs to part wide enough to straddle hers. After a second or two of thinking about it he unwrapped it and let it fall to the ground. Careful not to put too much pressure on her he threw one leg over and sat down on her thighs near the backs of her knees. Leaning forward he began to spread the lotion on her shoulders and upper back. The feel of his balls mashing into her skin, and the way his semi-hard cock rested on her closed thighs had him praying that she didn't come unglued.

Myrtle felt her pussy contract a little the instant his skin touched hers. His balls were pressing into her and his cock was caught in the groove of her closed thighs. She knew he'd taken off his towel, she could see it through the slits of her eyes lying on the comforter. His hands felt heavenly as he kneaded the muscles in her upper back, but with him sitting so close to her knees it was rapidly becoming uncomfortable.

"Honey, slide up a little. You're hurting my knees."

"Sorry Grandma," he said, sliding upwards toward her butt. "Better?"

"Yeah," she croaked, feeling the tip of his cock making contact with her covered ass crack. Without thinking about it she spread her legs out a little.

He felt her shift and spread her legs. Opening his a little wider to accommodate hers he was caught completely off guard when his balls fell between her thighs and the head of his cock slid down her panties and pressed into the dampness at her crotch. His leaking pre-cum joined her wetness on her panties. The heat radiating from her seeped into the tip of his cock and finished making it grow to its full length.

She wanted to cry out with pleasure as she felt his balls nestle between her inner thighs and his dick poke into the crotch of her panties right where her cunt hole was. She almost screamed with joy when she felt it press her panties deeper into the folds of her pussy. When he leaned forward to rub in the lotion his cock felt like it was trying to rip through her panties and impale her on its length. "Oh for the love of God, just fuck me!" she wanted to shout as her hips involuntarily lifted up to meet his downward press.

Bradley could feel the head of his cock pushing against her pussy folds each time he leaned forward to rub her shoulders. It wasn't like he was inside her cunt, but close enough that he could feel his balls start to tighten. When he felt her hips lift up and press her pussy against his cock he almost lost it. He wanted to just rip her panties off and plunge his raging hardness as deep into his grandmother's pussy as he could. It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to back away from her. As his cock pulled away from her crotch he heard an audible sigh escape her lips.

She felt the pressure ease on her cunt as he pulled back and climbed off her. She couldn't stop the sigh that tumbled from her mouth. She'd been so close to cumming that if he hadn't backed off she feared she would have raped him. She heard his footsteps going away from her and turned on her side just in time to watch him dive into the water. She had a brief glimpse of his thick hard cock poking out before he hit the water and went under. The sight of it finished pushing her over the edge. Her cunt exploded violently and her juices poured out onto the crotch of her already soaked panties. Her eyes wouldn't focus for almost a full minute while the convulsions wracked her hungry cunt. When her breathing returned to normal she rose on unsteady legs and rushed over to the waters edge. Her grandson was treading water with one hand and watching her intently, a strained look on his face, but all she could think about was putting out the fire in her pussy as she jumped into the cold water.

He watched with rapt attention as his grandmother rose and ran toward the water. His eyes glued themselves to her small tits as they jiggled and bounced with every step she took. There was no mistaking the fact that her nipples were hard as rocks. Frantically he pounded his fist up and down his raging cock hoping to shoot the load of spunk out before she realized what he was doing. Just as she hit the water a torrent of semen spewed out of his tortured dick and floated away with the current.

The cool water helped calm her down but did nothing to quench the hunger her pussy felt. She figured she could take care of that as soon as they got home. Glancing over at Bradley she noticed the strained look on his face was gone, replaced by one of total relaxation. Well, glad some one's relaxed she thought. Slowly she made her way to shore and climbed out. It was time to head home before she lost control she told herself. If only Bradley knew how close he'd come to making her forget that he was her grandson. Keeping her back to the water she rolled the wet panties down her legs and stepped out of them. No need in giving myself a rash on the walk home she reasoned. Leaving the panties on the ground she put on her dress and zipped it all the way up. Next she found her hat and plopped it on her head.

From the water he watched her step out of her panties. The sight of her flawless smooth ass threatened to spring new life into his deflated dick. Climbing out of the water he went over and picked up his towel then dried himself off. Grandma was acting strange, not making eye contact or even looking in his direction for that matter. He wondered if it had anything to do with how his dick had probed against her pussy. Throwing on his clothes he started folding up the comforter while she made sure everything was back in the pack. Just as he finished he noticed her panties on the ground. Reaching down he picked them up and absently wrung out the water before stuffing them into one of the pockets in his cargo shorts. Once he was fully dressed he saw her looking at him with an odd expression on her face.

"Are you mad at me Grandma?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"No sweetie, I'm not mad at you. Its just time we headed back is all," she replied softly.

"Okay," he said watching her a little puzzled.

"Have you seen my panties?" she asked, scanning the ground all around them.

"I've got em right here Grandma," he told her patting the pocket he had put them in.

"Oh good. Don't want to leave those here for some one else to find," she chuckled. 

"You want em?" he asked, happy to hear her chuckle.

"I'll get them when we get home honey," she replied with a smile.

The hike home seemed to take less time than the hike there. After hanging out the comforter over the porch railing Bradley headed off to his room while Myrtle said she was going to shower and then do a load of clothes. Before going to his room he went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water. On his way back he heard the shower going in the bathroom. Once inside his room he stripped intending to throw his clothes in the laundry with hers. While checking the pockets of his cargo shorts he found her wadded up pair of panties. They were still damp from the river and he noticed the crotch had a slick feel to it. He examined the crotch area and noticed they were slightly stained. Bringing them up to his nose he took a deep whiff. His cock sprang to attention as he breathed in the musky scent of his grandmother's pussy. Oh God, he groaned as he sank down on his bed, the panties covering his nose while his hand wrapped around his already stiff cock. Slowly he began to masturbate while holding the panties against his nose so he could breathe in the intoxicating aroma.

Myrtle stepped from the shower feeling a little more at ease. It hadn't taken long for her to get herself off. Wrapping the towel around herself she stepped into the hall and turned toward her bedroom. Before she reached it she remembered that Bradley still had her panties. She wanted to wash them along with the rest of the clothes so she turned and went to his room. Not bothering to knock she opened the door and stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat when she saw what her grandson was doing. Bradley was in bed on his back slowly pumping his cock with one hand while holding her panties over his nose with the other. His eyes were closed and it was obvious to her that he hadn't heard her enter. All self-control fled as she silently padded over to the side of the bed, dropping the towel on the floor as she went. She knew what she was about to do was wrong, so very wrong. It was incest. However the sight of his hard thick cock sticking up in the air opened the floodgates of desire in her hungry pussy. Deftly she jumped onto the bed with her feet on each side of his hips and stood there glaring down at him.

Startled, Bradley opened his eyes and almost pissed himself. His grandmother was standing on his bed and staring at him with a wild look in her eyes. She was also completely naked. Yanking the panties away from his nose he started to blubber out an apology, only it didn't seem like she was listening. Instead of yelling or cussing at him she walked forward until her feet were almost in his armpits. Looking straight up he had a perfect view between her legs, and at the meaty flaps of her inner lips. They seemed to be glistening with slickness. 

"So you want to know what my pussy smells like do ya? Why don't you find out what it tastes like too."

Myrtle placed her hands on the headboard of his bed and slowly lowered herself down until her knees were on each side of his head and her shins were resting across his shoulders. Looking down into his stunned eyes she lowered her pussy until it rested on his nose and mouth. The feel of his hot breath on her clit sent her senses into overdrive.

He couldn't believe what was happening. When she lowered her pussy onto his face he thought she was trying to smother him at first. Instinct took over as soon as he got the first whiff of her fragrance. Letting go of his cock and her panties he placed his hands on her hips and ran his tongue up and out of his mouth. The tip of it slid past the meaty inner lips and dug deep into the very center of her being. Instantly he felt her shudder.

"Oh my God!" she screamed as she felt his tongue spear her pussy and plow deep into her pulsating cunt. 

Pushing gently upwards on her hips he was relieved when he felt her lift up slightly giving him room to breathe. With the pressure off his mouth he began to greedily lick up and down her slit, batting her stiff clit with each stroke of his tongue. Each time his tongue slid between her inner lips he sucked them into his mouth and bathed them in his saliva. Faster and faster he worked his tongue through her slit until she started squirming and grinding her pussy on his face. He could taste the fluids leaking out of her; it was heavenly. 

"That's it, that's it, right there baby," she chanted, as the fire in her cunt became a raging inferno.

"Mmmmppphhhh," was all he could manage to get out as he savored the flavor of his grandmothers juices, his cock harder than it had ever been before. 

Myrtle felt herself go over the edge. Crushing her cunt down on his probing tongue she began to shake violently as contraction after contraction rippled through her pussy.

He felt her push down on his mouth and start to shake. Using his hands on her hips he pulled her even tighter onto his mouth and jammed his tongue up into her as far as he could. He could feel the walls of her pussy actually sucking on his tongue. Suddenly she shuddered one last time and then went limp and fell backwards onto his stomach before rolling completely off of him, her feet still up near his head. Gently pushing her feet to the side he sat up and looked at her. She was on her side facing away from him curled into a fetal position breathing heavily. With her ass pointed in his direction he could see that her pussy was totally saturated with a mixture of his saliva and her cream. The urge to plunge his raging cock into her wet pussy drew him to his knees. Sliding in behind her he stuck a finger into her cunt up to the second knuckle. It was like sticking his finger into a molten vat of honey. Before he could get going in fingering her pussy she reached back and pulled his hand away.

Turning over and climbing off the bed she fixed her hazel eyes on him and said, "If I'm going to go to hell for fucking my Grandson, then I'm going to at least do it in my own bed."

Reaching down she took his hand in hers and said, "Come with me, I want to show you something."

"What Grandma?" he asked quietly, getting out of bed and following as she pulled him out the door.

"Something your Grandpa loved."

Following behind her he couldn't help but admire the way her ass jiggled with each step she took. His full balls swung back and forth while his rock hard cock bounced up and down as she led him down the hall to her bedroom. Once they reached her king-sized bed she let go of his hand and told him to lie down in the center of it. The bed was huge compared to the one he had been using, and the headboard and footboard were made of metal with an ornate design. Even at almost six feet tall the bed seemed to swallow him. He lay there watching as she went over to the closet and began rummaging around in it. When she returned she was holding what looked like several lengths of soft rope. He could see that on one end of each length of rope was a hook; on the other end were what looked like small wide leather belts. Was she going to tie him down he wondered? It didn't take long for him to find out. 




Leaves of Three Let Them Be



Myrtle attached each end of the ropes to the wrought iron headboard and footboard with the hooks. Next she placed the leather belts attached to the other ends on his wrists and ankles. When she was done she took stock of her handy work making sure the belts weren't too tight. She was satisfied that he wouldn't be able to move his hands or feet very far. What she was about to do was something her late husband absolutely loved doing. Grandson or no grandson, the urge to have his big hard cock stuffed inside her could no longer be denied, but perhaps there was something she could do to ease the guilt she was feeling. Turning she left the room. 

Lying there shackled and spread-eagled he watched her leave. Was she just going to leave him here he wondered? He began to get a little worried until she returned holding the case she'd had on their hike. She scrambled up on the bed and straddled his hips then slowly lowered herself down until the shaft of his penis was nestled between the outer folds of her pussy. Pulling a joint from the case she lit it and took a deep drag before holding it to his mouth so he could do the same. When he started to say something she placed a finger across his lips to indicate he was not to speak. While they smoked the joint he could feel the subtle back and forth sliding her cunt was doing on his cock. He could also feel her juices lubricating his shaft. Once the joint was finished she climbed off and put the remainder of it in an ashtray on her nightstand.

Instead of climbing back on him, he watched her ease herself onto the foot of the bed between his outstretched legs. Slowly she crawled forward until her face was above his cock. He groaned with pleasure as her tiny hand grasped his shaft and lifted his cock up until it was pointed toward the ceiling. His groan grew even louder as she lowered her lips around the swollen head of his cock and began to bath it with her tongue.

For several minutes she licked and sucked her grandson's cock taking as much of the thick shaft down her throat as she could. When she felt she couldn't wait any longer she crawled up his body until she was again straddling his hips with his hard thick cock once more trapped between her puffy cunt lips. She closed her eyes and slid her wet pussy up and down the length of his cock feeling it throb against her. She heard his moans each time her clit scraped over the head of his cock; just like his grandpa used to do she thought. A smile spread across her lips. 

Bradley gritted his teeth and let out a deep moan with each forward slid she made on his cock. He didn't know how much longer he could take the pleasure her slippery pussy was giving his throbbing hardness. His frustration was starting to equal his pleasure as he tried to reach up and touch her, the restraints holding him back.

"Please Grandma...let me touch you," he groaned, his eyes glued to her face.

Without even opening her eyes she replied, "Soon, sweetie, soon."

He watched wild-eyed as she placed one hand in the middle of his chest and brought her feet up until she was squatting above his hips. Raising her ass she reached under with her free hand and hoisted his cock up until it was pointed right at her pussy. With agonizing slowness she rubbed the head of it through her slit several times before lining it up with her opening. Every nerve ending in his cock screamed as he felt her pussy expand around the knob and slide another inch lower on his shaft. She was tight, so very tight. The heat encircling his cock threatened to make him explode before he was fully inside her. Gritting his teeth he fought the urge to cum with all he had.

"Oh Shit!" Myrtle hissed as she felt the head of his cock penetrate her pussy. She could feel her cunt expand as he filled her fuller than she'd ever been filled before. She was in heaven. Slowly she lowered herself further down on his cock, her leaking fluids lubricating the shaft as she went. When she had about four inches inside her she stopped and leaned forward until she was resting her head on his shoulder. She could feel his cock throbbing inside her stretched out tunnel. Tucking one hand under his shoulder blade she rested her other hand gently against the side of his face. She could feel him trying to raise his hips in order to push more of his cock up into her.

"Just lie still for a bit, let me get used to you first baby," she whispered. 

"Okay Grandma," he whispered back.

Hearing him call her Grandma while his cock was inside her both bothered her and excited her at the same time. Never in a million years would she have thought that one day she would be fucking him. It was so very wrong, yet so glorious to have his young hard cock in her that any thought she might've had about stopping vanished. Slowly she started rotating her hips, swirling his cock around inside her while gradually sliding down taking more of it in. When she couldn't take any more up her she began to buck her pelvis in an up and down motion, riding him in long easy strides. It wasn't long before she was pumping herself up and down on his thick hard cock with enough force that their bodies bounced on the bed. She could feel the beginnings of an orgasm twitching inside her stretched out cunt. She pumped her hips faster, slamming her cunt onto her grandson's hot hard pole.

Every fiber in his being screamed out for release as her tight wet cunt milked his cock in her velvety glove. When she sped up he knew he couldn't hold it any longer.

"I...I...I'm cummmmminnnggg Grandma!" he shouted, desperately trying to pump more of his rod into her molten hot hole.

"Let it out baby," she said, vigorously humping his cock with her slippery soaked cunt. 

Cupping his face with her hands, Myrtle brought her lips down on his just as she felt his white-hot sperm blast up into the deepest recesses of her quivering cunt. The taste of her pussy on his lips pushed her over the edge. Spasms wracked her body as her cunt clinched down around her grandson's cock, coating it with an abundance of her fluids. She'd never creamed this hard in her life. All doubt about whether she should've allowed this to happen vanished into thin air. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to fuck him again, and again, and again. It was going to be a beautiful summer. Pulling her lips from his she lowered her head to his shoulder and laid unmoving on top of him, completely fulfilled. 

Bradley fought to get his breathing under control. The feel of his grandmother's warm soft body snuggled on top of him filled him with a love he'd never felt before. Turning his head he placed little wet kisses on her cheek, the tiny spasms still quivering in her cunt sending tingling sensations up and down his semi hard shaft.

"I love you Grandma," he whispered near her ear.

"I love you too Bradley," she replied, then reaching up and undoing the restraints on his wrist. 

When she finished with the restraints she sat up and gazed lovingly into his eyes, still impaled on his dick. With him slightly deflated all of his cock slipped snuggly into her saturated pussy, his ball sack pressed up against her ass. She could feel it twitch every so often, sending chills up her spine. Without letting his cock slip out of her she rotated her body until she was pointed toward his feet. Leaning forward she undid the restraints on his ankles.

Freed from his bonds Bradley reached up and placed his hands over the small swells of her breasts. Her nipples pressed deeply into the palms of his hands as he pulled her down so she was lying on top with her back on his chest and her legs spread out wide. Lifting his knees he planted his feet on the bed for leverage and began to gently push up into her sloppy wet pussy, his fingers gently pinching her hard stiff nipples.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" she moaned over and over. 

Myrtle couldn't believe how tremendous it felt having his rapidly hardening cock slide gently in and out of her in long slow strokes while his fingers pinched her nipples. Her and Abe had never been able to achieve these kinds of positions before. She felt him release one nipple and trace his fingers slowly down over her tummy before they settled on her sensitive clit. The loud gasp that burst from her mouth filled the bedroom. 

Slowly he began rotating his fingertips over her bud in ever increasing force as he increased the speed of his thrusting. Faster and faster he drove his cock deep into the squishy mess of her pussy as she squirmed and moaned above him. He felt all-powerful as he pushed her closer and closer to her release. Without missing a beat he wrapped an arm around her middle and rolled them both over. Using his feet he pushed her legs together as he rose up into a push-up position and continued to slam into her steamy wetness with abandon. It sounded like he was spanking her as his pelvis slapped rapidly against her soft round ass with each downward thrust.

Myrtle's mind lost all track of cognitive thought as her grandson hammered her cunt. Never had she felt her pussy so wet and used like she was feeling now. Her heart raced in her chest as she fought to push back against his mighty thrusts. She wanted his entire dick in her. Faster and faster she humped up against his invading cock determined to make him fill her one more time. The squashy sounds of sloppy sex filled her ears as she felt herself peak and go over the abyss, her cunt contracting in an endless string of spasms.

"I'M CUMMMIIINNNNGGGG!" she screamed as her rapture overflowed, along with her cunt cream. 

With one final forceful lunge Bradley shoved his throbbing cock as deep as he could into her quivering cunt, his body stiff as a board as he unleashed wad after wad of thick hot spunk into his grandmother's well-fucked cunt. When the last vestiges of his sperm poured into her he collapsed on her back totally spent. It was five long minutes before either of them could move.

Rolling off her he lay there staring up at the ceiling reveling in the knowledge that he'd finally had his first sexual encounter. The fact that it was with his Grandmother only heightened the experience. Turning on his side he reached over and began to softly rub her back and butt. She had her face toward him, her eyes sparkled and a big smile was plastered on her lips. For ten minutes they stared at each other not saying a word. His fingers drew circles on her back causing her skin to break out with goose bumps, while her hand gently fondled his sticky cock. Both were surprised when it started to grow. He couldn't help himself. Gently he nudged her onto her back and slid between her legs. They sighed in unison as the head of his cock slipped into the wet gooey mess of her pussy and easily sank all the way in, his balls resting softly against her ass.

"I have a proposition for you," Myrtle whispered in his ear as he lay on top of her just barely stroking his thick hard cock into her slippery hole.

"I'm listening Grandma," he replied, luxuriating in the feel of her hot wet pussy gripping his cock. 

Bradley's parents waved as they watched their son drive off that fall. Why he'd suddenly decided to go to college near where his Grandmother lived puzzled them. On the bright side however it gave them peace of mind knowing he would be staying with her and not living some place far away from family. They also knew she would take good care of their little boy.



Leaves



By the time he got home, it was dark. There was nothing he could do but wait. He turned on his TV, but that just seemed to make the room darker.

It was after ten when she called, and he rushed to the phone.

"April? Where are you?"

Her voice sounded small and mechanical Telephones were so absurd. "Harold? I'm all right. I had to call you. Harold, I'm leaving."

"No!" he said. "No! You can't April! I need you. Before you do antyhing, I have to see you. We need to talk."

"Harold, I can't. Not now." 

"Not now? Why not? Where are you? April, I love you. I love you, baby. Please, just meet with me."

"I know," she said. "I know you love me, darling, and I love you too. But I can't stay. Not now."

"No, wait! I can change. Really. I was just an idiot." He licked his lips, suddenly desperate. Her voice was so faint, as if she were already far away. "Meet me. I have to see you, April, right now, before you do anything. Meet me on the bridge."

"Harold, I can't. I don't know if I can be ready..."

Her old readiness problem. He laughed, but his laugh had no humor in it. "I know you, April. You can do it if you want to."

"No. It's different this time, Harold. It's not my decision any more."

"What do you mean? Whose decision is it? April, is there someone else?" The thought cut him like a knife. His hand tightened on the phone. "Is that it? Is someone there?" He felt nauseous, sick with loss and rage. He turned around and poressed his head against the cool of the plaster wall, as if it mighht explode.

"No. Of course not. There's no one else."

"Then meet me. Ten minutes."

"Harold..."

"Meet me!" He slammed the phone down before she could reply, grabbed his coat and flew out the door before she could call him back.

The night was dark, and felt like something huge, with wings. He ran over the grass, over the lamp lit lawns and shadowy streets, across the empty baseball field and to the abandoned access road that led to the bridge. He could see from some distance away that she wasn't there. There was no one beneath the old yellow street lamp, just the skittering leaves. That didn't disappoint him, though. He didn't expect her so soon. He'd made it in record time, running all the way.

He stood on the bridge catching his breath. The Patch was inky black in shadow, and the trees his friends had nothing to tell him now, standing there as if afraid. The whole world seemed frightened and afraid. Even the shadows seemed to be trying to climb into themselves. He could hear the dry leaves rubbing together like the whispering of countless mouths, saying words no man could understand. 

April came walking towards the bridge, out of the Patch, moving slowly, reluctantly.

How had she gotten there? Jumped the golf course fence and cut across the greens? She was wrapped up against the chill, in a big cloth jacket and a muffler around her neck, a beret on her head—her symbol. It filled him with grief.

"Where are you coming from?" he called while she was still some distance away. "Where were you, April?"

She stepped easily down the slippery bank. She seemed to glide along the marshy shore, her hands tucked into her opposite sleeves and pressed against her chest as she walked up to the bridge. She looked cold and she'd been crying. Her eyes were red.

"April, April," he said. "I don't want you to go. I want you back, the way things were before. Can't we be like that again? I was such an idiot. I love you, April."

She stopped several feet from him, crying still. She shook her head as if she didn't want to hear. "Don't," she said. "Don't."

"April..." He took a step towards her. She took a step back. "April, please. Just let me hold you. You're shivering. Just let me—"

He stepped towards her. Her back was against the bridge and she had nowhere to go.

"Don't—" she said.

He slid his hands inside her jacket, the way he always used to do, to warm himself with the heat of her body—slid his hands inside and felt nothing, and April wailed, turned her sad eyes to him and wailed as he watched her dissolve in front of him—dissolve into nothing. Her face, her hair, her legs and her body, all dissolved, melted away, the skin ripping off like tattered tissue paper as the wind took it. He got one look at her eyes, terrified and then sad, resigned, the light going out as the skin of her face lifted off and blew away, leaving nothing in his arms but dried leaves, spilling over his hands. Her jacket opened and collapsed over his arms, and there was nothing in there but leaves, dead, dried leaves. Her jeans fell—her panties—and the leaves skittered like frightened spiders across the concrete of the bridge. 

"April? April! Oh my God, April!"

He heard her wail, the sound of the wind as it blew through the patch. The trees shuddered in horror and the wind gathered the leaves as a mother gathers her children in her arms and blew them irrevocably into the darkness of the Patch. 



Leaving



“Are you sure there is no one here?” Jack asked his wife. As a real estate agent, Rachel had keys to apartments all over the city. Some were vacant, some occupied, as this one was, and she was sure the owner, a fifty-six year old lawyer, was not home. Lawyers usually worked late.

“I’m sure, babe. Come on!” Rachel said. She turned on the lights of a beautiful suite in the Upper East Side in Manhattan. “You got to check out this bed.” They giggled through the expensive suite, not paying attention to the original art on the walls. The couple had other things in mind.

Real estate agents rarely had time for anything but work. For the last four months, Jack complained about the lack of sexual activity in their lives. In fact, sex became boring. Rachel understood and made an effort to spice up their sexual appetite. She bought toys, kinky films, dressed sexier, and lately, they had sex in other people’s beds.

This particular act seemed to be the key, for they enjoyed it immensely. Rachel never mentioned it, but she loved to have sex on others’ beds. People she found attractive or simply lusted after. Needless to say, every time they snuck on someone’s apartment and dirtied their bed, Rachel fantasized of having sex with its owner. 

Well, it was a fantasy and Jack did not have to know. She never felt guilty about it; why should she? She was thirty-six years old, and entitled to her nasty thoughts.

“It looks like a football field,” Jack said.

“What did I tell you?” she said and flung herself on the bed, bouncing a few times. “What are you waiting for handsome?” She said in a sensual voice and beckoned him with a finger. Rachel parted her legs, showing black panties under a divided skirt. Jack’s pants flew across the room. She smiled as he dimmed the lights, setting the mood. He removed her panties and buried his face in her clean-shaved cunt. He stuck his tongue inside her, tasting her nectar, bathing in her already wet self.

Immediately, an image of Roger, the fifty-six year old lawyer, materialized. She looked down and saw Roger’s baldhead buried between her vaginal lips, his goatee tickling her clit. She imagined him kneeling at the foot of the bed eating her while stroking his cock under a potbelly.

Rachel closed her eyes and leaned back, savoring Jack’s tongue around her clit. He inserted a finger and slowly circled around her cervix. Jack usually did this when he wanted to fuck hard. He inserted another finger.

Jack loved her cunt. It was small and tight. His seven-inch cock was hard in his hand, showing a purple head. He was not the biggest guy, but seven inches was not small, especially when Rachel was barely a hundred and ten pounds and four and a half feet tall. It was something he enjoyed, being six feet tall and almost two hundred pounds. He felt ‘big’ for her. He was proud of that, and she enjoyed his size.

“Fuck me, baby,” she said. In her fantasy, Roger was already fucking her. Rachel was careful not to say names during sex. 

Jack climbed on the huge bed and towered her.

“I want to fuck you hard,” he said. She did not have time to respond. He slammed her, driving his member all the way in. Rachel yelled as he pounded her little pussy lustfully; an animalistic grunt escaped him. Jack was a beast sometimes, and used her as a slut to satisfy his needs. It was a link to human nature at its best. She did not mind; his hard strokes drove her to orgasms most of the time. Rachel loved to be used, especially when in her fantasy there was a new lover.

Her pussy felt slippery and warm. Jack felt her hips twitching rhythmically, dancing and rubbing his cock’s swollen head on her sweet spot. Her wetness and tightness drove him mad.

Rachel was a screamer, a positive attribute in Jack’s opinion. Her screams made him feel secured and pleased with himself. He never had anyone that screamed so loud when cumming.

“Oh yeah, fuck me. Fuck me!” she moaned. “Shove that cock in me!”

Rachel thought she was hallucinating when she saw Roger Dillon standing at the doorway. Jack noticed her stare. What is she looking at? He thought.

“Oh shit!” he said, when he noticed the man in the dim room closing the door. This was, without a doubt, one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. Here he was fucking his wife, who happened to be the man’s real estate agent, in his bed. 

“Fuck me,” Rachel whispered in his hear, and Jack noticed the man stroking his cock. The fat man watched them. He was an older man, bald and fat, yet possessed the biggest cock he ever saw. It was at least nine and a half inches and thick as a man’s wrist. Jack immediately felt uncomfortable and small. Rachel must have seen it. 

Did she want Jack to fuck her while the fat man watched, or did she want Jack to fuck her while she thought of the man’s big cock? 

“Let me suck your cock,” she whispered. Jack pulled out of her and offered his cock to her mouth. She sucked savagely.

Roger sat on the bed and looked at Rachel, his real estate agent’s, pink pussy. It was so small and wet it made his cock twitch. She was a tiny brunette that invaded his dreams from time to time. Why was she having sex in his bedroom did not matter. She was naked and wet in his bed and that meant he had a chance to fuck her, even if her boyfriend was there. 

Slowly Roger drove two fingers inside her. Rachel moaned and her boyfriend looked at him. Roger was hoping he did not mind. He was not sure if he did, but her boyfriend did not stop him. Taking that as a ‘no’, Roger lowered his face to her wet cunt. He lapped a few times, tasting her wet box, before devouring her.

Rachel sucked Jack harder, she saw him stare at Roger eating her and did not want Jack to stop him.

Jack pulled out of Rachel’s mouth. His heart wanted to burst from his chest. Rachel looked at Jack with a concern look, and then at fat man. The lawyer positioned himself at her entrance, slightly parting her vaginal lips, testing her tightness. She did not stop him. She wants his cock! Jack thought. Jack wanted to stop him, but could not move.

The man looked at Jack, and slowly penetrated his wife. Rachel yelled louder than ever. Jack saw her pained faced, an expression of agony. 

“Don’t stop! Deeper, I want it deep,” she said to Jack numb ears.

He saw the man’s tool slowly disappeared into her womb, her pink pussy shaped perfectly round as it accommodated his giant member. He stretched her, stretched her and reached places inside her Jack could never reach. 

“Jesus Christ, you are going to rip me in two!” Rachel yelled at the man. He was all the way in. His balls rested nicely at her asshole.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” the man asked as he lowered himself and kissed her ears. She looked at Jack’s dark eyes.

“Yes. I want you to fuck me,” she said while starring at her boyfriend deeply. Jack stared back, saw her pain become pleasure when the fat man began pistoning his great cock in and out.

His strokes came brutally. He pulled all nine and a half inches out only to slam it back with such force her screams cut in mid sentence every time his cock reached inside her cervix. 

“Oh shit! Take it! Take my pussy!”

Jack sat on a chair by the bed and watched his wife forget all about him and fuck her client. She was in heaven, but to Jack it was a perverse sight. The man sucked her neck while his oversize belly squashed most of her small frame, leaving very little of Rachel to see under his wide body. 

Her legs were wrapped around his hairy back, or at least she tried to; her legs were too short. She held his bold head tightly onto her neck as she yelled for a deeper and faster bounding. But strangely, all of this made Jack’s cock harder. He was observing the scene in front of him when his cock erupted. It shot a load up in the air. He was no touching his cock when he came.

The man grabbed her legs and placed them on his neck, then toppled, doubling Rachel over like a piece of paper. Now he had easier access to her, as if he needed more. Rachel’s eyes turned white as his cock went deeper in her cervix. Jack saw tears rolling down her cheeks. She screamed, but it came as a croak, and the pounding resumed. 

Jack ventured a peek at the man’s cock impaling his wife. The man’s balls were huge, like tennis balls. They were smacking Rachel’s ass, producing the sound of bodies fucking. Rachel screaming ceased, for all that was heard were whimpers.

“I’m going to cum!” yelled the fat man. He had a raspy, deep voice.

“Ahh, ahh, ahh, I’m cumming! I’m cumming bitch!”

Jack saw the man’s balls go up his scrotum and emptied his seed in Rachel’s womb. Her well-fucked pussy leaked a lot of it when he pulled out and laid next to her. She was breathing heavy, eyes closed and face flushed. Jack watched them. He watched the man’s cock shrink. It was still thicker than his when hard. He looked at her pussy, red and stretched. Cum oozed from it onto the bed sheets. Finally, he felt his cock. He was surprise at how hard it was. He climbed on the bed.

Slowly, Jack lifted her legs and shoved his cock in. He could not feel her tightness. It was warm and slippery with cum. But Jack was aroused and needed release. She was still his wife. He fucked her. Fucked her hard until he emptied is own seed in her. She did not even twitch. Did she feel any of it, he asked himself.

He dressed and leaned close to her face. Rachel opened her eyes.

“I love you,” he said, kissing her softly.

“Go home Jack. I’ll see you tomorrow,” was all she said. She closed her eyes, cuddled with her lover. The fat man hugged her small frame, squeezed her creamy ass with his rough hands, and pulled the quilt over. Jack spared one last look at the peacefully spent couple. She did not look back and he knew she was gone.



Leaving



When I slid the card key through the slot in the lock and opened the door I immediately saw the suitcases and bags of stuff neatly arranged on and around one of the double beds. I gritted my teeth, stepped inside and sat down on the other bed, realizing that she was really going to leave this time. She had talked a lot about leaving, hell, she talked of leaving the day I first met her.

It was in the first of the restaurants to open after the storm that I met her. I could see it was a mad house, but it was something I would endure for a meal not reheated in a microwave, or at least one not reheated in the microwave in my hotel room. I waited about an hour before a flustered receptionist led me to a booth. Grabbing the menu, I scanned through it for the most expensive item. I was on an expense account and the T-Bone steak here cost considerably less than most of the meals I normally ate when traveling.

When the waitress finally came to take my order, I could see it had been a long and difficult day. Her dark curly hair was frazzled, with loose curls hanging down over her face. Her dark skin had a light sheen of sweat that did give her a very attractive glow, but what makeup she had worn was streaked and cracked. Although I could see dark circles of sweat under her arms and smaller ones under her breasts, the mix of her perfume and natural fragrance was very intoxicating.

"Tough day?" I asked.

"You wouldn't believe, but at least I am working again and making some money. If I can find a place to stay I might make enough to pay rent."

"Your place..."

"Storm surge. Yeah, I had a good idea when I moved in, a place with a view of the beach. It was nice while it lasted, which was just long enough for me to throw a few things in my car and drive up to the freeway," she replied, sliding into the booth across from me.

"You survived the storm in your car?"

"Yeah I got up to the freeway, but the roads were blocked, so I parked under an overpass and spent the night. Thought the car was going to blow away a couple of times but at least I was well away from the water."

"But that was two weeks ago, you couldn't go back to your place."

"They blocked the road, but that didn't really matter, when I did finally get back the apartments were gone."

"Gone?"

"A pile of sticks, bricks and trash about two blocks inland from where it used to be, at least that's my best guess where it ended up. Anyway, been sleeping in my car ever since."

Over the course of my dinner, I was able to convince her to move into my hotel room. She even offered to pay me, but with my company paying for the room anyway I saw no need for that. We had two beds there, and while I was certainly open to sharing a bed, I was prepared to sleep separately too. 

I was pleasantly surprised when she showed up to move in and even more surprised that once she dropped her bags she moved over and kissed me hard on the lips. While we kissed I let my hands drop down to her tight little ass and I slowly began kneading it. She encouraged me as she moved to straddle my thigh and began to grind against me.

Moving toward the bed I quickly pulled her tee shirt over her head and unfastened her bra. While I bent over to kiss her breasts and suck on her nipples she quickly unfastened my pants. When the pants fell to my ankles I stumbled a bit and fell onto the bed, then simply watched as she finished undressing.

As I quickly pulled off the rest of my clothes I noticed her open a pouch on one of her bags and pull out a tube of something. I stood up next to the bed as she sat down and took hold of my cock while squeezing a liberal amount of lubricant on me. Immediately she worked her hand up and down my shaft, coating it completely.

Without a word, she climbed onto the bed, and kneeled with her ass facing toward me. I moved forward and let her take my cock from between her legs. Instead of guide it into her pussy, instead she aimed it higher and when I hesitated she said, "Fuck me in the ass."

I had never done that before, but had often fantasized of anal sex, so I decided to give it a try. It was a bit difficult at first, pushing the head of my cock into that tiny hole, but in just a few moments it loosened up a bit and I began to slide into her. It was tight and although I was well lubricated I had to move slowly.

While I pushed she encouraged me saying, "Okay, just a little more, just move slowly. Yeah that's right." I had to admit it was sexy hearing her egg me on. Anyway, I continued pushing further and further until I hit against something. Thinking that was it I began to pull back but she said, "No keep pushing, just a bit further." 

I arched my back and pressed a bit harder and finally, it opened again, this time letting me slide in to the hilt. Now I was able to withdraw and then move into her in one, slow but steady thrust. The tight sensation was incredible and I noticed her fingers moving over her clit, something I hadn't seen a woman do before, so I was really turned on.

Grabbing her ass, I began plunging quicker and quicker and in no time I felt the pressure build in my balls and suddenly a wave of pleasure shot up my cock and I came, spurting my cum deep into her ass. As I was coming, she moaned loudly and I presume she came with me. 

I left my cock shoved into her until I felt the last twitching of my orgasm. Slowly I backed away from her and pulled out. She immediately jumped up, moved to the bathroom and tossed me a towel to clean up with. Then she started the water in the shower and after a short while I heard her climb in.

A little later I joined her in the shower, but she seemed uncomfortable and as small as the tub was, we awkwardly kissed, washed each other's backs, but then she hurried out of the tub. By the time I finished up, she was sitting on her bed fully dressed. 

I nodded to her bags and said, "I have some extra hangers in the closet and there are a couple of drawers I'm not using."

"That's okay, I'll probably be moving out right away, I mean in he morning."

"Look you're welcome to stay," I said, "I enjoy the company." I didn't say I enjoyed the sex even more.

Anyway, she didn't move out that next day so we spent the next several weeks in a pantomime of our first night. Usually getting together after coming in from work, having some quick sex, always anal, and then showering. I often moved to try something different but she was determined, her pussy was off limits. I did enjoy what we were doing so I didn't argue with her. Although we talked some at night we never discussed the sex, and usually she fell asleep early so not much else happened.

She did move in more of her stuff and while she did scatter out some, she never really unpacked. Slowly the economy in the area got rolling as more businesses opened and some of the debris got moved out of the streets and buildings into large stacks lining the roads. Life in the area was beginning to return to normal so I guess I really shouldn't have been all that surprised that last day when I found her bags all packed.

She showed up a few hours later, not in the sweaty clothes she usually came home wearing, but nicely showered, dressed and she even wore makeup. She was alone when she came inside but I sensed someone was waiting for her somewhere. She simply stepped in the door, looked into my questioning eyes and said, "Hey baby, I always told you I was moving out soon. Well today's the day."

"Just like that I asked? I mean what about us?"

"Us baby, you knew there was no us, you always knew I was leaving."

"But what about what we did?"

"Didn't you enjoy it?" she asked.

"Yes, but why do we stop now?"

"I was just staying here, and now I'm leaving, you always knew I was leaving."

"No, I thought after a while you might stay."

"Baby, I can't stay. I thought you understood. My fiancé just got his job back so he could move back from up north. We're getting married tomorrow."

"You just like that you're leaving?"

"Just like that," she said, grabbing a couple of her bags. When I moved to grab one she stopped me, "No I don't want to be any more trouble to you."

"That's nonsense, let me help."

"No baby, let me do it alone. He doesn't know about you, if he finds out well..."

"Well what?"

"We just don't want to know."

I sat back down and wondered how she kept him from coming up to the hotel room and finding me here. All I could do was watch TV as she made several more trips to grab her stuff. When she finally grabbed the last of it I said once again, "So you're leaving."

She nodded and mouthed out, "I'm leaving."

After she closed the door and I heard her drag her stuff down toward the stairs I said, "I love you."