10 comments/ 596228 views/ 136 favorites Grandma's House By: SmithCommaJohn My life was not turning out as I expected, at all. I was eighteen, just graduated from high school and looking forward to going off to college, making friends, getting drunk on weekends and picking up girls--women, I reminded myself, they're women now, even if most of them were as young and stupid as myself. I'd gotten good grades and gotten accepted at the school I really wanted to go to, a state college not too far from the small town that I grew up in, a school with a reputation both for good academics and good times. My parents told me that they'd be able to pay my way through, although I should probably look at getting a part-time job for "fun money"--i.e. beer and condoms. I thought I was pretty much set. Then, about mid-summer, they told me that my college savings fund hadn't done too well when the dot-com bubble collapsed, and they hadn't been able to make up the losses. Seeing the crestfallen expression on my face, they tried to reassure me that they had a back-up plan, but my heart sank even further when they told me of their new plan--that I would live with my grandmother, who had a small house in the college town. Everyone else would be living in the dorms, sneaking six-packs and bottles of vodka into their rooms and talking giggly freshman women into having sex in the showers at 4 AM, and I'd be hanging with Grandma, trying to sneak in late on the weekends after parties and having her waiting up for me, no doubt, in a flowered housecoat with her hair in curlers, listening impatiently to my excuses before laying down the law. It was not an exciting prospect. I didn't even know my grandmother that well. She'd married when she was eighteen, to a man much older than her, and had my mother almost immediately afterward. My mom had gotten pregnant and married at eighteen as well, mostly to get away from her father, who was from a previous generation and was not a particularly loving person. Unlike my dad's parents, who were pretty much standard-issue grandparents, we didn't see my maternal grandparents very often. In fact, I could probably count the number of times I actually saw them during my childhood on one hand, and I don't remember seeing them at all during my adolescence, probably because my grandfather was ill and my grandmother was busy tending to him. He died when I was seventeen and away at camp, so I didn't even see my grandma at the funeral. I wasn't even that sure what she looked like anymore, only that she was about fifty-five. At any rate, I put off moving to her house until two days before classes started. I didn't take a lot with me, and it all fit into the back seat and trunk of the old beater car that I'd bought with my summer job savings. For some reason, I was very nervous as I pulled into my grandma's driveway. Would she expect me to be her friend and join her old biddy friends in bridge games? Would she be some sort of weird widow lady who treated her cats better than people? Would I be better off living in a van down by the river? I was a little shocked when she opened the door. In the back of my mind, I was still expecting someone a little more matronly, but the woman who greeted me looked like a woman fifteen years younger, or more, who'd dyed her hair grey. Only the slight crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, and the backs of her hands, betrayed her true age. She was on the slim side, but still had the same curves that my mother did. In fact, except for the grey hair, I could have been looking at my mother's somewhat older sister. She was wearing a polo shirt and white shorts that showed off her tanned legs well, and a big smile. "John!" she exclaimed, and immediately hugged me. I could feel her surprisingly firm breasts pressing into my chest. She let me go and held me at arm's length. "Well, look at you!" She looked me up and down, and gave me a delighted smile. "Why, you're all grown up, aren't you?" "Uh, yeah, I guess so." I shrugged. "It's, uh, been a while, I guess." "Sure has!" she laughed. "Well, how about we get you settled in?" Her house was much better than I'd feared--I thought that she might have had an old lady's house, all chintz and potpourri and embarrassing pictures of me from grade school, but it was decorated in an understated and relatively sophisticated manner, very light and airy so that it seemed larger on the inside than it did on the outside. There were only two bedrooms and one bathroom, and the bedroom doors were almost directly across a short hall from each other, so I could see that there probably wasn't much of a chance of sneaking a girlfriend in late at night. This might be alright for a year at the most--it was definintely cleaner and in better shape than the dorm I'd seen on my summer campus tour--but I wanted to start making alternative plans right away, maybe even talk to the financial aid people next week. By the time I' d moved my stuff in it was dinnertime, and we spent most of the meal catching up on family news. After dessert, she pushed her plate aside and took my hand. I was a little surprised--my family weren't the hand-holding type. "Now, before you get all busy with classes and such, we should talk about something," she said. "Sex." My jaw fell open and I almost withdrew my hand, but she held on firmly. "It's OK; I just want us to have a clear understanding, here," she said. "You're a good-looking young man, and I'm not exactly out of the game myself, so there's a strong likelihood that one or the other of us will have a partner over some night. It's a small house, so we really can't be sneaking around anyway, right?" I nodded dumbly. She definitely was nothing like my other grandmother. She continued, "Now, if it gets to where one or the other of us has someone over most or all of the week, it might get a little too close for comfort, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I just want you to know that I accept that you have a sex life and hope that you can accept mine." I almost laughed; she was flattering me that I had a sex life to speak of. I'd done it a couple of times, with the same girls that put out for everyone, but the truth was that I didn't date that much--I didn't go in for all the game playing. I supposed that what I really wanted was someone who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go for it. That didn't leave me with too many choices, frankly. I was hoping that things would be different in college, but part of me knew that things probably wouldn't be that different, at least at first. I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "OK, sure." She smiled and let go of my hand, although I thought that her middle finger briefly stroked the palm of my hand as she took her hand away. "I'm sure that we'll get along just fine." She stood up, and this time I noticed how trim her waist was, and that her stomach was relatively flat; her shorts weren't that tight, but I could still see that she had that gentle curve that some women have between their navel and pubis... I looked away, hoping that she hadn't seen where I was looking. I stood up and volunteered to clean up the dishes. She laughed and ruffled my hair; "Yup--we'll get along just fine," she repeated. As she left, I checked out her backside, swaying gently to and fro; she definitely had a younger woman's ass. As I washed the dishes and put them in the rack, I tried not to think of my grandmother naked, and failed. She obviously kept herself in good shape, and probably had any number of well-tanned, golf-playing professional types that wanted to spend the night. I wondered if she was the kind of lover who was loud, who liked to moan and talk dirty during sex and scream when she came. I could imagine her with a hard cock in her mouth, or on her back with her legs spread wide while her partner grunted and drove himself into her pink wetness... I realized that I was starting to get an erection, and deliberately thought about buyng textbooks and picking up my class schedule until it went down again. I was realizing that I probably would be uncomfortable in my grandma's house, but for entirely different reasons than what I'd originally thought. She invited me to watch TV with her, but I begged off, talking about unpacking and being tired after the drive over. I puttered around my room, putting things away and listening for my grandma. Finally, I heard her close the door to the bathroom, then several minutes later the toilet flushed; shortly thereafter, the bathroom door opened, but I didn't hear her bedroom door shut. Finally, I peeked out of my bedroom; the house was dark, but my grandma's bedroom door was cracked open a couple of inches, and I could see a faint, flickering yellow light inside, as if she'd lit a candle. I crept to the bathroom and was as quiet as I could be, although there's really no quiet way to flush the toilet. As I washed my hands, I considered the open door. I assumed that if she had a lover over, she'd shut the door. I planned on having my door shut every night. As I left the bathroom and started towards my own room, I heard what sounded like a sigh coming from my grandmother's room. I stood there for a few seconds until curiousity got the better of me and cautiously peered through the crack in the door. I couldn't see the candle, which meant that I wasn't in the direct light and probably wasn't visible to her. I could see her bed clearly, though. My grandmother lay on the bed in a thin, short summer nightgown, the covers bunched around the foot of the bed. She was looking up at the ceiling with her left hand behind her head, rubbing her lower belly while she slowly rubbed her thighs together. Finally, she sighed again, closed her eyes, and raised the hem of her gown above her waist while she spread her legs apart. Even in the candlelight, I could see her pussy clearly. Her pubic hair was dense, although neatly trimmed along the sides, and darker than the hair on her head. As her legs separated, I could first see moisture gleaming in the center, then a little bit of pink. At first she stroked her inner thigh just shy of her pubic hair, then she covered her pussy with her hand and started a slow massage in a circular motion. As she rubbed herself, I could see her middle finger slowly sink inwards until it was clearly in between her pussy lips. In the meantime, she brought her left hand down and was caressing her left breast through her nightgown; I could see the nipple of her right breast clearly erect through the thin cloth. She did this for a minute or so, as her breathing came faster and I suppressed my own as best I could. Then, she stopped suddenly, and sat up. I thought for a panicked second that she had seen or heard me, but instead she pulled her nightgown over her head, then lay back down. My previous speculation had been correct: she did, indeed, have the body of a younger woman. Her body was gently rounded, and her breasts were small but firm, with nice dark areolae and gum-drop nipples. I noticed that she had tan-lines on the bottom but not on the top; now I understood why there was a new, eight-foot-high fence around the back yard. She lay back down with her left hand cuppng her breast and the thumb stroking her nipple as her right hand went back down to her crotch. She inserted her middle and ring finger deep into her cunt and withdrew them glistening wet, then rubbed then along either side of her large and erect clit. She did this a few more times, then started massaging her clit round and round, moving her left hand over to her other breast and strumming the nipple rapidly. I could hear her panting rapidly now. I was wearing gym shorts, and my cock was tenting the front of the shorts out with a blue-steel boner. She let go of her breast and started finger-fucking herself with her left hand as she worked her clit. Her hips started to bounce off the bed and she started moaning, "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah... fuck, fuck, oh yeah, fuck..." Her movements sped up and suddenly she raised her hips all the way off the bed and cried out--her pelvis quivered and I could see her cunt clearly, the little glistening head of her clit peeking out between her fingers, and the fingers of the other hand plunged between her wet labia--she stayed like that for several breathless seconds, and then she let out her breath and her hips crashed back down on the bed. The spell was broken and I quickly withdrew so that I couldn't see her, wondering if she'd caught a glimpse of me anyway in the throes of passion. I was starting to back slowly toward my bedroom door when I heard another noise from her bedroom. My heart froze; I thought that she was coming out, and I moved more quickly, sure that she'd see my door close and figure out what I'd been doing. I turned to close my door, then hesitated; if she'd been coming toward her door, she should have blocked the candlelight by now. Slowly, I went back to her door. Very cautiously, I peered into her room again. She was still nude, still on her bed, but was rummaging around in a shoe box, of all things. Then she lifted a dildo out of the box, kissed it on the head, and laid it to the side. She retrieved a second, smaller dildo and laid that aside as well, and put the shoebox under her bed. My breath quickened again; this show had a second act. She lay back and spread her legs, and picked up the larger dildo. She kissed it on the head again, then gently sucked the head into her mouth. It was just as I had imagined when I was doing the dishes, only she was even better than I had pictured her--she took it out and slowly licked around the head, kissed the shaft all the way down to the base and back, and licked all along the underside, just as if she were pleasuring a real man. Then she took the head back into her mouth and started moving it in and out, slowly feeding more and more into her mouth until she was taking it all the way down to the base and back again. She took it out and rubbed the head around her lips, then moved it down and rubbed the shaft between her breasts. I had a sudden vision of the cock--a real cock--spurting come and giving her a pearl necklace. She trailed the cock down her stomach, slowly stroked the head inbetween her pussy lips several times until her hips started rocking again, and then thrust it into her still-wet cunt. She immediately started that liquid grunting sound that women make when they're being fucked deep, hard, and good--that sound that sounds almost too deep for a woman to make. In between the grunts she started talking again: "fuck me, fuck me, yeah, do it, fuck that big hard cock right into me, fuck me you bastard, aw yeah, oh fuck..." This was the woman who had married an older man who was an invalid the last five years of his life? How long had he been able to satisfy her like this? How many years had she had to resort to the dildo, or had she had lovers while he lay in the other bedroom, dead to the world? My own cock was throbbing while I watched Grandma fuck herself hard. Then she stopped, and again I felt a brief spike of fear, but she was only changing position; she rolled over and got on her knees, then pressed her shoulders down on the bed so that her ass was up in the air, her slightly spread legs forming a triangle with her glistening cunt at the apex. She rested her head on one arm while she picked up the dildo again and, reaching up between her legs, reinserted it in her pussy and started fucking herself doggy style. She soon picked up the rhythm again, moaning "Oh, fuck" into the pillow while the latex cock pistoned in and out of her juicy pussy. Then, not missing a stroke, she reached over for the smaller dildo and started to suck on it as she continued to fuck herself. I was growing more astonished by the second. Not only did my grandmother like to masturbate, she liked to pretend that she was getting it in both ends at once. She wasn't finished surprising me, though. She took the small dildo out of her mouth and started murmuring, "Where do yo want to put that cock, honey? Where do yo want to put that nice, hard cock? Do you want to put it in my ass? Huh? Is that where you'd like that cock to go? Do you want to stick it in my little pink asshole? Do you want to buttfuck Grandma, is that it, do you want to fuck your Granny in the ass?" My heart lept--she wasn't thinking about some anonymous lover, she was fantasizing about me. Grandma took the larger dildo out of her pussy and picked up the smaller one, shining with her saliva, and moved it in and out of her pussy a few times, coating it with the slipperier cunt juices, then brought it to her puckered asshole. She breathed heavily a few times, then slowly began to insert the flanged head of the rubber cock into her ass. She grunted and moaned, "Slowly, Johnny, you've got such a big cock, Grandma wants it but she has to take it slow..." Gradually, she eased the entire shaft of the dildo into her ass, and pumped it slowly, the ring of her anus clinging to it as she withdrew it. She fucked herself in the ass for a couple of minutes, then lowered her hips and put a pillow under them so that her ass was propped up and she no longer needed to support herself. She reached for the other dildo and reinserted it in her cunt, then reached underneath her so that she could grasp the big dildo in that hand and reach with the other hand over her back, and started to double-fuck herself, both dildos sliding in and out of her in rhythm. She picked up speed and started saying clearly, "Yeah, Johnny, fuck Grandma in the ass, fuck me in the ass, Johnny, do it, do it, shoot your cum deep in my ass, I want to feel it, do it do it do it---" Then she cried out and slammed her hips down into the pillow in short, sharp jerks. She trembled all over for a few seconds, then was still, breathing heavily. After a while, she slowly withdrew the dildos from her cunt and ass, wrapping them up in a small towel next to her bed, and laying them aside, probably for washing in the morning. As she reached for the candle, I thought for an instant that she was looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I quickly withdrew and quietly eased back into my bedroom, very slowly closing the door and locking it. In the silence, the lock sounded like a gunshot, but there wasn't a lot I could do about that. I lay on my bed and thought about what I had just seen and heard. This was only the first night I had been here, and already I had seen my grandmother masturbate while calling my name. Maybe I should start looking into other housing options right away, even though I didn't know how I could afford it. Maybe my grandma had seen or heard me outside her door, and I wouldn't have the chance to find another place to sleep. I'd never slept in my car, but thought I might be finding out pretty soon what it was like. It didn't help matters much that I still had a diamond-cutter hardon. Finally, I decided to get it over with, and pulled my shorts down. My cock felt good in my hand, almost aching with sexual tension. Although I tried to think of old fantasies, pictures from porn magazines, and former lovers, my grandma kept coming back into my mind. Finally, I just gave up and thought of her fucking herself in both holes from behind, begging me to buttfuck her, and felt a heady mixture of shame and pure lust. When I came I came so hard that I actually hit myself in the chin with the first spurt, and spent several minutes sponging up the semen with tissues. When I woke up the next morning, I had a massive piss hardon. I looked around my stuff for a bathrobe, then realized I hadn't packed it and decided to just make a run for the bathroom in my shorts. Right as I came out of the bedroom, my grandma walked by, wearing a hosuecoat. Before I could beat a retreat or scurry into the bathroom, she beamed a big smile at me and chirped, "Good morning!", and much to my mortification, gave me a full-body hug. I could feel the tip of my cock press into her stomach, but she didn't seem to notice. She let me go and said, "Breakfast is almost ready; do you think you'll want to, ah--" she looked down at the lump in my shorts, then back up at my face, eyebrows raised, "--take a shower first?" Grandma's House The highway that descended down out of the foothills into the Yakima Valley was nearly deserted even though it was mid-afternoon. The late December sky had turned a slate gray to signal an oncoming snow storm. My car moved along easily, occasionally side slipping on a patch of black ice, but nothing dangerous. I'd driven this road many times over the years. At the Alderman Horse Farm the highway leveled out and ran pin-straight all the way to the cross roads. No one in the car spoke. My younger sister, Mary, was lost in her own thoughts in the back seat. Her husband, Grant, sat beside me in the passenger seat and stared out at the frozen fields as they passed by. My own mind was filled with visions of times past as I drove the road I'd driven so many times before. The momentary stop at the crossroads yielded a short wait for a tanker truck then a dog leg to the right onto Chestnut Street. I followed the street all the way to where Chestnut ended at the gravel road and there, on the corner sat the old house. I stopped the car for a moment as I looked at the old house. It seemed older and more run down than I could remember. The paint on the clapboards was peeled. The front porch seemed to sag with its age. "Go on, Jenn. We might as well get it over with," Mary said from the back. I turned left on the gravel road and into the drive at the rear of the house. My cousin, Steve, was already there. I recognized his jeep. And there was a Mercedes I thought must belong to cousin Richard. Charlie and the rest might have been around the block at Aunt Rosie's house. But I was sure they were here someplace. As I opened the car door, the cold seemed to seep into my bones. It was a coldness that almost ached. But I knew it wasn't just the cold. It was the feeling of death and loss. In the dining room Steve and his sister Suzi sat at the old, round, oak table drinking coffee. I greeted them. Suzi came to me an we hugged. The tears were very close. After a wave to Richard I went to the kitchen an poured a cup of coffee from the old coffee pot on the old stove and went outside to sit on the old back porch with my memories. I knew the funeral would be in an hour or so. It seemed like a sad ending, two old, cold dead people lowered into the cold, frozen earth. There on the back porch of my grand parents old house, I could plainly see the Rose of Sharon bush that had grown there next to the gravel road for as long as I could remember. Oh, it was the largest one I've ever seen. I was told Grandma planted it when the house was bought, some sixty odd years before. She tended that bush like her child and it always grew the finest deep pink flowers with dark red centers year after year without fail. My mind drifted back to my childhood when I sat in the cool shade of the old Black Locus tree near that bush and watched the emerald green humming birds feed on those flowers. The tiny birds darted here and there then paused, wings moving so fast I couldn't see them. I watched as they dipped their long beaks into the fragrant nectar at the heart of the flowers, then flew away only to return to feed again. Why was I remembering this now? Winter had set in leaving the bush bare. Now there was no need for shade against the cold, stark gray clouded sky with an occasional snow flake drifting here and there in preparation of a coming storm. Shivering, I knew there would be a fresh carpet of snow by morning. But sitting there my mind still insisted on drifting back to those summers when I was young. At times I could even hear Grandma yelling from the porch where I now sat, "You kids. Get in here. It's time to eat. And leave that dog out there. She don't need to come in." And we would come running from out behind the shed where we'd been playing, my sisters and I. Running because we could already taste Grandma's fried chicken that nobody could duplicate. And the sweet corn and mashed potatoes and white gravy. Sitting here now I could almost taste that meal. It was always hot and heavily peppered just the way Grandpa liked it. There around the old, round, oak table my ma sat with Grandpa talking about the cousins and aunts and uncles back in the old country that we kids never knew. "No, Violet, Ian was hanged years ago. You must be thinking of Freddy. That's your Aunt Mattie's son," he was saying. These were all people who were a part of us we'd never seen and never would. Even now I can't really put together who was who and who belonged to who. Or who was in Cork and who was back in Belfast. Sometimes I would see letters postmarked from Ulster or Dublin addressed to Grandpa lying on Grandma's old sideboard. When he saw that I'd noticed them he'd snatch them up and put them away someplace never to be shown to anyone. And later, Grandpa would sit in his big easy chair, smoke his cigarettes and sip his whiskey from his glass. His eyes would drift off into another place, another time long ago. And we always knew he was thinking about the old country. If you spoke to him he was too far away to hear. Once I came into the house and Grandpa was sitting in his chair with one of the letters staring off, a tear making a shiny rivulet down his cheek. I spoke to him but he could not hear. That was the only time I ever saw that tough, strong old man cry. I've always tried to be like I remember him. His back was always straight. He was tough but kind to us. A fighter all his life with a tenderness buried so deep one would not even know it was there unless you really knew and loved him. He was a voice of authority and a stable mountain in the midst of the rumbling chaos of kids and dogs. And what of Grandma? I know I could never be like her. She was staid and stoic. She was always there in the house, never complaining and never wanting much more than she had. And there was the constant reminder of the Rose of Sharon bush. The one unchanging thing in lives that spanned most of 90 years. That bush grew and flourished like the family that sprang from her. Looking at the bare limbs now it seemed to me to be an undying symbol of those two old people. That bush was planted in their youth and grew and grew and blossomed year after year into maturity. And now as I looked at it all it could see was how cold and bare and dead it was, just like they were. But there is a difference. Next spring that bush will regenerate as it has all these years, grow new leaves and blossom its pink flowers for the humming birds again. I can only hope Grandma and Grandpa will have regenerated someplace together again. Starting anew and continuing on together. That is my hope for them and all I have left to offer. Grandma's House NOTE: This is a true story, just like all of the ones I write... Daniel was waiting for me in the driveway when I pulled up, I barely had time to kill the car before he opened the door and leaned in for a kiss. His delicate lips grazed mine and his hands ran through my hair. I grabbed my laptop and headed for the house, his grandmother was there to greet me with a plate full of food," Hi Mrs. Virginia," I tried to sound cheery and energetic. "Hello Cami," she replied as she handed me a plate piled with baked chicken and vegetables. "Come on baby," I followed Daniel back to his room to eat. "I missed you," he told me, setting down his plate and putting his arms around me. "I missed you too, sweetheart," I held him tightly and kissed his chest, then nuzzled myself under his chin. He stroked my back and sighed. After we finished dinner, I set up my laptop and put in AH! My Goddess! one of our favorite animes. I stretched out on the bed and he curled up behind me resting his arm on my side. Daniel stroked my side and slid underneath the covers, I joined him and nestled my hips against his. After a few minutes I felt his rapidly growing erection pushing against the soft fabric of my skirt, his hand slid upwards and he began playing with my bra strap. Judging from the size of the hardness I felt against my thighs, I expected him to take me then, just raise my skirt and have his way with me. But he had something slightly more sadistic up his sleeve. His hand slid gently down my skirt and he toyed with the elastic of my panties. I gasped at the chills this sent down my hips and the tingling sensation he had now awakened in me. I felt his hot breath on my neck and right ear, he nipped at my ear lobe and nibbled his way all the way up to it's tip. I gasped and felt myself becoming more and more aroused. "So you like that eh?" he whispered in my ear, causing a chilly tingling sensation to run through it. "Oh yes, give me more," I begged, praying that the fingers that were toying with my panties would soon realize how wet I was. Just as I prayed they moved downwards, first finding my clit and circling it. My fingers gripped the sheets and I bit my lip to keep from moaning," Daniel, you aren't afraid of being disturbed?" I asked him, as I jerked myself back to reality enough to know there were other people in the house besides us; thus my reason for being so quiet. "I'm not worried, they can't see us under here anyways," his breath was on my neck again and his teeth grazed it. As his fingers delved deeper into me, those beautiful teeth sank into the tender flesh of my neck. My eyes rolled back and I couldn't help but whimper. He teased my entrance until my breathing labored, and I was seconds from an orgasm and then move up to my clit and ease me down from it. He continued heightening my pleasure, bringing to the edge of an orgasm and then stopping to tease me further. I was beginning to wonder if he would ever take that beautiful cock of his out of his pants," Is this what you want?" he thrust his hips against my bare ass, driving me crazy. "Oh baby, yes," I moaned as his fingers worked themselves in and out rapidly. "Oh, you're so wet," his fingers left me and at first I thought he was just going to be a tease for awhile, but as suddenly as his fingers left I felt his large erection pressing against me. He slid himself in slowly, letting out a hiss of breath. He began thrusting slowly at first, then picked up speed; I put my face into a pillow to stifle my moans and my heavy breathing. He brought me to four orgasms before I felt him begin to pulse. His teeth sank into my shoulder as he climaxed, and he moaned loudly. We lay together, still connected, with our arms wrapped tightly around each other whispering softly in the dark. The sound of footsteps came towards our door, and before we could react, his grandmother popped her head inside," Daniel, you and Cami want something to eat? Dinner's ready," she asked and then left the room. "Wow, that was close," Daniel's muscles relaxed, we quickly got dressed and went to the kitchen to get dinner. Grandma's House I could feel my face go aflame. "Y-yeah, I guess a, uh, shower first." She smiled and continued to the kitchen. Even after I took a piss, my boner stubbornly refused to subside. I wondered how long it would take me to come in the shower. At least she didn't seem pissed off about last night; maybe she hadn't even seen or heard me. By the time I started to soap up my crotch I was feeling a little more relaxed about my housing prospects; even though she was a little freer about sex than I was used to, I guess that as long as we were both cool about it, we could get along. I started to stroke my soaped-up shaft and let my mind wander back to last night, especially to the part where she'd buggered herself while moaning my name. I gripped my cock tightly with my thumb and forefinger, the way I thought her anus might grip it, and started working toward my climax. Just as I was approaching the big finish, I heard the bathroom door open; I stopped immediately, my heart hammering. "John? What do you want for breakfast?" I hesitated, then said, "Uh, whatever you're having, I guess." I was still gripping my cock in a circular embrace at the base. The shower door was pebbled glass; I could see her outline, but nothing clearly, and since the shower stall wasn't lit I was sure she couldn't see me. Grandma said, "Well, I've got bacon and sausage. Which do you prefer?" I thought for a few seconds. Last night my grandmother had masturbated with her bedroom door open; here I was, naked and wet with my hard cock in my hand, and she was standing there like we were talking at the supermarket. Of course, once again she couldn't really see me. Slowly, I started stroking my cock again. "I think I'd like sausage, Grandma." I could feel myself building toward a climax again. She started talking about how she usually didn't eat that much for breakfast, but she knew that I had a big day ahead of me, and so on... I wasn't really listening to her, since I was being gripped by an orgasm almost as powerful as the one the night before, hitting the wall of the shower with several spurts. As I came down from the orgasm, I realized that she'd stopped talking. "Grandma? I didn't catch that last part... couldn't hear you above the water..." "I asked you if you'd be home for lunch." "I don't know yet." Good--she hadn't seen me jacking off just a few feet in front of her. "We'll talk over breakfast, OK?" She left the bathroom and closed the door. While I was drying off, I looked back at the shower stall. Moving toward it, I reached behind the pebbled-class door and waved my hand around. Even though I couldn't see my hand in detail through the glass, I could definitely see the motion. Had Grandma stood there while I jacked off and watched, just as I had watched her last night? She acted pretty normal during breakfast, though. We talked about my schedule that day--I had to buy books, pick up my class schedule, and learn my way around campus. I told her that I might not be home for dinner, and she didn't seem to have a problem with that. Just as with dinner last night, when I was finished and starting to stand up, she took my hand again and said, "You know, I noticed this morning that you keep your door closed at night." I only nodded, wondering where this was going. "I know that some people like to keep their doors shut, but I usually like to keep mine open--the air circulates better." She looked into my eyes. "Is that OK with you?" As casually as I could, I nodded mutely. "That's good." She paused, then said, "If you want to leave yours open, that's OK too." A thrill ran up my spine, but I only shrugged and said, "OK." She smiled, then squeezed my hand and let it go, again with her middle finger brushing my palm briefly. "Have a good day, then. If you come back late, I'll probably be asleep." I thought about that during the day. On the one hand, part of me wanted to come back in time to see if she lit the candle again and put on another sex show with toys. But that seemed pretty dangerous, especially since I didn't know what she was really thinking. Maybe she just had no idea that I had been watching her last night and jacking off this morning. Maybe she did know, and was trying to be cool about it. Maybe she was coming on to me. Maybe she had been calling my name last night because she had a past or present lover named John; it wasn't exactly an uncommon name. Who knew? Several times during the day, I thought of finding a bathroom stall with a working lock and jacking off just to release some of the tension I was feeling, even going as far as looking up some classic erotica in the college library catalog, only to chicken out when a pretty young librarian came up behind me and asked if I needed help. I even cruised by a couple of adult bookstores, but I wasn't so desperate that I was willing to stick my dick through a glory hole and let an anonymous stranger with who-knows-what disease slobber all over my tool. Finally, I pulled into my Grandma's driveway and, breathing a little faster, went in. The house was dark except for a nightlight above the kitchen sink, and I couldn't see candlelight coming out of her bedroom door. Feeling both relieved and a little disappointed, I used the bathroom and went into my bedroom, but hesitated before closing the door. I thought about what she said at breakfast. Would she come and peek in my bedroom as I had peered into hers? Should I light a candle? I decided to leave my bedroom door cracked open about three--no, let's make it four--inches. In the darkness--although I could see as my eyes adjusted because of light from the streetlights coming in through the window--I undressed slowly, trembling a little. I didn' t put the gym shorts on, but pulled the covers down and lay on the bed, hands behind my head, legs a little apart. I was starting to get a little hard as I considered the next step, and gradually built up my nerve until I finally reached down and pulled my underwear off. I lay back down; even though the temperature was comfortable enough, the air felt cool around my scrotum. I thought about laying down naked in the backyard, the grass fresh and soft underneath my ass, and looking up at the stars, and my cock erected without my touching it. I looked at it for a little while, standing proud and bobbing a little with my pulse, and then something--movement in my peripheral vision, probably--made me look towards the door. I could see a silhouetted figure outside my door; no details, just a darker shadow against the faint light in the hallway. She stood there for many long seconds, then I couldn't stand it anymore, and contracted my pelvic muscles so that my cock twitched--once, twice, again. The shadow moved away, then, many seconds later, I saw the faint orange glow of her candle. I don't think that I made a conscious decision to get up; it was as if my cock was pulling the rest of my body along. I went to her door and looked inside. She was laying naked on the bed again; the candle seemed as bright as a lightbulb. She had moved to one side of the big bed, and patted the other side as she looked me in the eyes. I pushed the bedroom door open and walked over to the bed, laying down alongside her. We weren't quite touching, and only looked at each other for a while. Then she cupped her breasts in her hands and started stroking her hard nipples, making them even stiffer. I reached down and gripped my cock, slowly starting the old familiar pump. She looked at my hand working away, then back into my eyes, then back at my cock, and reached between her legs. Her legs moved apart and her right knee rested on top of my leg, and I could feel the rhythm of her finger-fucking through the contact. We pleasured ourselves, not in any big hurry; I was feeling the high thrill of the taboo nature of what we were doing. I could smell her cunt musk clearly, and wondered if or when I would get to taste it. We sweated where our legs touched, and the pace of her masturbation picked up a little, as did mine. She started moaning and then said, "Oh, baby... oh, Johnny, stroke that cock, make that big dick come for Grandma, Grandma wants to see you come, the way you watched Grandma come last night... do it, baby, do it, oh, ohhhhhhhh..." Just like last night, she rocked her pelvis right off the bed, and I could feel the quivering this time as the waves of orgasm washed over her. As my own juices started to rise, I had just enough self-presence left to point my dickhead up so that I wouldn' t coat my own chin again. The come shot out in a high arch and splattered on my belly. As I came down from the climax, I felt the semen cooling on my belly and started looking around for tissues. Grandma figured out what I was looking for, and chuckled. "You won't need those, honey," she said, and, crouching over my belly, started lapping the come right off of me. Even though I'd just come, I felt the thrill in my dick; we'd graduated from mutual voyeurism and exhibitionism to exchange of bodily fluids just like that. As she bent to her work, licking up the semen like a cat drinking milk, I rested my hand on her back, feeling her skin, so smooth just like a younger woman's. She shifted around so that her ass was closer to my head, and I moved my hand down to her ass cheek and started stroking it. She said "mmmmmm" and kept licking. I moved my hand over to the ass crack, then ran my fingers down until I felt her pubic hair. She sighed as I felt for the lips, then probed between them, stroking up and down between the moist slickness, finally inserting my thumb into her muscular, grasping vagina as I stroked her clit with two fingers. She pushed up against my hand as she finished licking my come, then moved down my body, her breath warm against my come-wet cockhead. She cupped my balls with one hand and gently stroked my scrotum as she circled the semi-soft cockshaft with the thumb and forefinger of the other, just as I had in the shower this morning. She moved her lower body over even further and straddled my body before lowering her face and taking my cockhead into her mouth. I moaned and looked up into her glistening-wet pussy; I grasped her hips and pulled her down to my mouth. People think of older women as being somehow unclean or dried up between their legs, but her pussy smelled fresh and musky, actually better than the women a third her age that I'd been with. I spread her labia and gave several long licks between them, making her moan again, then concentrated on sucking her clit as I probed into her vagina with my fingers again. It was a little different, as I'd never been in the 69 position before; several times I had to come up for air, since my nose was buried between her lips; cunt juice kept running into my nose, and she giggled a little when I started sniffling, but kept deep-throating me. I could see her little pink asshole winking above me and thought of her calling me to assfuck her the previous night. Did she want me to lick her there, too? Did she clean it well, inside and out? I hadn't seen anything dirty on the dildo the night before, after she took it out... I was working my way towards another orgasm, but I could tell that she was going to get there just a little bit sooner. I decided to take a chance and, as she started moaning louder and louder, which felt just great on my dick, I put my thumb in her cunt and stuck the tip of my middle finger in her anus. She cried out, my dick still in her mouth, and pumped hard against my face. The sound vibrations traveled down my dick, all the way to the base, and I felt it even in my own anus, and the spark set off my own orgasm; I shot into her mouth harder than I ever had from a second come, and with the tiny little bit of conscious thought that I had left, I was a little worried that she'd end up choking on my semen. No worries, though; she swallowed it all, just a little escaping and coating her lips, as her pelvic thrusts slowed and then stopped. She rolled off me and we lay there for a while, head to foot, panting. I briefly thought about the picture that we made, a grandmother and grandson, faces slick with each others' sex juices. If my parents ever found out, they might let me off the hook if they could convince themselves that my grandmother had somehow seduced me against my will; if my classmates found out, I may as well have plastic surgery, change my name, and move to New Zealand. Before I could get too remorseful, my grandma sat up, then lay down again, this time head-to-head. She cuddled against me and kissed me; with her tongue in my mouth, I could taste my semen and she could taste her own pussy juice. She murmured into my ear, "You know, I've had a couple of lovers since your grandfather died, but none of them were liked you--they didn't like eating pussy, and they were so old that they could only come once a day, if at that." She cupped my cock as she continued, "Twice tonight and once this morning"--she giggled--"bet you didn't know I could see you jacking off in the shower, did you? After you left, I had to take my housedress off and fuck myself twice." She looked me in the eye and said, softly, "You know that we'll have to be discreet about this, don't you? Even if we don't do it again, we don't want anyone to know about this. Do you think you can keep a secret, even if you get drunk at some college party?" I looked at her for a second, then shrugged. "Sure, and if this is what I have to look forward to, I may not be going to that many keggers anyway." She laughed. "Feel like coming back for more, do ya?" She started stroking my cock again. I said, "Get on top of me and let me suck on those tits and I might just come again tonight." She eagerly straddled me and, placing an extra pillow under my head, brought her breasts to my mouth. I sucked the nipples into my mouth and circled them with my tongue, taking turns and fondling the saliva-slickened one that I wasn't sucking. She started to moan again and rocked her wet mons against my rapidly-reviving prick. Pretty soon I was hard enough so that she could raise up a little bit, grasp my cock, and after rubbing the head up and down between her labia like a stubby tongue, put me inside her. You know, I like all kinds of sex; there's a certain amount of inimitable intimacy about putting my cock into a woman's mouth, a place that everyone can see, and trusting that she'll keep her teeth out of the way and that she'll take it in as far as she can; and with cunnilingus, I can taste and smell her, and even though I'm devoting myself to pleasuring her, she's also in my control as I bring her to an orgasm like none other. Even masturbation is great--I can take as long as I want, look at whatever porn I want, use whatever toys I want, even fantasize about whatever I want--it's selfish but good. But--it may sound obvious, but I just gotta say it--nothing beats fucking. My most intimate and sensitive part meets her most sensitive and intimate part, and for those few precious minutes, we aren't entirely two separate people, and even afterwards, everytime I look at her, no matter whether or not we're still going out, there's still something that connects us--we've fucked, and there's no taking that away. And here, to add to the intimacy, there was the continued thrill of the taboo--thirty-six years ago, the cunt that I was stroking into squeezed out my mother, whose cunt had squeezed me out eighteen years later; I was fucking the generation before last. Most guys wouldn't look twice at anyone over thirty, but I was screwing a fifty-five-year-old and loving it; her skin was just as supple as a younger woman's, her pussy was just as wet, her tits just as firm. And, the best thing was, she wasn't shy or hesitant about sex; she knew what she wanted and went for it. She was riding me hard and fast now, working towards her own orgasm as she ground her clit against my pubic bone. Finally, she sat up straight so that my cock went all the way up and the head brushed against her cervix, and she gasped and shook. It felt great, but I wasn't near to my own climax after having shot four wads in the previous twenty-four hours, and I was still hard as she lay down on my chest with my hard cock still buried deep in her. I let her rest for a few minutes, then touched her face and asked her, "Ready for another round?" She smiled at me and said, "Sure, but you get to be in the saddle this time, OK?" I saud "Sure," and she rolled off me and lay on her back. I got up on my knees and she spread her legs, just like last night, only she was looking straight into my eyes. My cock was rock-hard and I felt like the biggest stud in the world, someone who was so irresistable that his own Grandma wanted a hot, hard fuck from him, again and again. I mounted her and she grasped my cock and slid it into herself again. I fucked her hard and heard her liquid grunts as I supported myself on my hands and knees, pumping hard with my ass muscles. She started pumping her hips up against me, and started up with the dirty talk again: "Yeah, you wanna fuck me with your hard cock, don't you Johnny, you wanna fuck Granny with that big man cock of yours, Granny wants your cock, fuck me, fuck me hard with that hard hard cock goddammit, oh fuck..." Soon she had wrapped her legs around my hips and was pressing her heels against my ass to help drive me in until she came with a chorus of "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck FUCK!" I stayed in her through her quivering orgasm, then slid my still-hard cock out of her with a wet pop. She sighed and said, "You're still ready to go, Johnny? God, it's been so long since I've been with a man who can keep it up all night!" I felt like a porn star. "I've never been with a woman that wanted it more than once, Grandma. In fact, they barely wanted it once." She laughed. "Well, those gals must not have been rocket scientists. As far as I'm concerned, you can have it any way you want." I thought back to the previous night, with Grandma face down and butt up, taking it in both holes and moaning my name. "How about, uh, rear entry?", I asked hopefully. "You mean doggy-style?" She poked me in the ribs. "Want a little of what you were watching last night, huh?" I nodded eagerly and she turned over and started raising her hips. I was already up on my knees and moving behind her. I noticed that her tan lines didn't cover her cheeks; my gray-haired granny tanned in the back yard in a thong with no top, just like a European vacationer. I grasped her hips and spread her cheeks, and considered her puckered rosebud again. Is that what she meant by "a little of what I was watching last night"? My cock was bigger than the dildo she'd buttfucked herself with, and besides, was she really clean up in there? I decided to go with the pussy again, and after a little searching around and a little manual assistance from her, I slid into her from the unfamiliar angle. In a way it was less intimate because she was facing away, but at the same time it was hot because it was like she was prostrate before me, presenting her cunt to me for my use and pleasure. I wasn't sure how much pleasure she was getting out of it, but noticed that after a while she took one hand from underneath her head and started rubbing her clit. I thought I'd help her out a little, and gathering some of her cunt juice from around the base of my dick, smeared it around her asshole. She immediately moaned and said, "Oh, yeah, do me there, Johnny..." I got some more lubrication and, as she encouraged me, slowly probed her anus with my slick finger. She was too tight to get into at first, but I was patient and she loosened up from her initial voluntary reflex. Once I got past the tight muscle ring she was very soft and slick inside. I didn't feel any feces inside and put my finger all the way up, and then started stroking my finger slowly in and out while I kept pumping my dick in and out of her cunt. She started moaning louder and I could finally feel my come rising again. As she started moaning the fuck-fuck-fuck mantra again, I could feel her anus squeezing my finger in waves, and I finally slammed into her one more time and shot my load deep into her cunt. Grandma's House This time we were almost too tired to cuddle afterwards, but I couldn't help but sniff the finger that I'd had up her ass. She giggled and said, "Don't worry, Johnny, I'm usually pretty clean up there, but I'll get something anyway." She got up on shaky legs and, cupping her hand under her cunt, walked out of the bedroom, coming back a minute later with a couple of washcloths, wiping my finger off with one and my cock and balls with the other. We snuggled up to each other and went to sleep almost immediately. The next morning, I lay awake for a little while, thinking about the irreversable step I'd taken and the secret I now had to keep. I was idly thinking about whether or not I still wanted to date women at school when I suddenly realized that it was the first day of classes. I got up, and my grandmother stirred and said, "Ready to go to class?" I smiled and said, "I'd better take a shower--I smell like sex from head to toe." She smiled back and said, "Well, why don't you make coffee and I'll get in the bathroom, and you can join me in the shower when the coffee's done; just bring the cups in the bathroom." I put on my shorts (didn't want the neighbors to come to the back door and see me naked, coming to the obvious--and true--conclusion), and made the coffee. I brought the cups into the bathroom where Grandma was already in the shower, and setting the cups down, noticed something next to the toilet that it took me a while to recognize: an enema bag. A little puzzled, I took my shorts off and entered the shower stall where Grandma was shampooing her hair. I washed my own hair, then took the bar of soap and started on Grandma's back. I slowly massaged her back, then worked down to her ass, cupping her cheeks before running my finger down her crack and tickling her rosebud. She chuckled deeply. "I'm already clean there--inside and out." She gave me a hot look over her shoulder, and I figured out what the enema bag had been for. She handed me a bottle from the shampoo rack, which I quickly realized was lubricant, and spread her legs as she braced herself against the wall. I moved behind her, placing myself in front of the shower spray so that the lube wouldn't wash away, and squeezed out a generous dollop into the palm of my hand and ran it up and down her crack, then gently pressed a finger into her anus, moving it gently in and out until she loosened up, then adding another finger and repeating. After she could take three fingers--moaning softly as I pumped them in and out--I decided she was ready, and lubed up my cock, then placing the head at her rosebud, slowly but firmly popped it in. She gasped and started breathing deeply. I started stroking in, a fraction of an inch at a time; it was so much better than my hand the previous morning. If fucking my grandma was forbidden, this was another taboo order of magnitude entirely. Pretty soon, we were grunting in unison as my cock sawed in and out of her ass, slowly but steadily. Even with all the times I'd come in the previous day and a half, I could feel my come rising fast, so I slowed down and gave Grandma a reach-around to her clit. She sighed and moaned, "Oh, Johnny, keep fucking me up the ass like that, I want your big hard cock up my ass every day, buttfuck your Granny, oh baby..." Even at a slower pace, it wasn't long before our moans and grunts reverberated off the shower stall walls as she shuddered and I shot my wad deep into her rectum. Well, school is going fine, and I get along just fine with my classmates. I've been to a few parties and had lunch with a few women, but I don't feel in any hurry to take things any further. Every now and then, when someone finds out that I live off campus, they immediately suggest a kegger; I have to tell them that I live with my grandma and that she's home almost every night. They make a big show of sympathy and say, "Dude, what a drag." If they only knew.