9 comments/ 155393 views/ 21 favorites Back to Woodstock By: jack_straw Rachel Hardy's eyes were misty, and she had a faraway look on her face as she gazed over the grassy meadow where it all happened so many years ago. In her mind's eye she could picture the meadow as it had looked back then, the sea of humanity covering the area as far as one could see, the high stage at the far end at the bottom of the hill, the many tents that had been set up to help handle the throngs that had flocked to the area. She looked over at the young man standing next to her, looking over the area in awe. Rachel pointed in one direction. "Over there was where we set up the medical tent," she said. "I'd been a candy striper in high school, and they knew I had a little bit of a medical background. You know, it's a miracle we only lost two people that weekend. Half-a-million people, and only two fatalities, and one of those probably couldn't have been helped." "What happened?" Craig Burford said. "I think it was a burst appendix," Rachel said. "I remember, I helped deliver three babies." "Wow," Craig said. "Well, Gram, did you get to see any of the acts?" "Oh, I made it a point to see the Dead, although they really sucked that night," Rachel said with a laugh. "They were really fucked up, plus it was threatening to blow up a storm. The wind was blowing hard, and Phil Lesh told me a couple of weeks later when I ran into him that they thought the whole stage was about to collapse." "Anybody else that you remember?" Craig asked. He was enthralled by the stories his grandmother was sharing, and utterly captivated by being this close to the object of his long-held desire. "Oh, the Who," Rachel said. "Definitely the Who. I managed to get fairly close to the stage for their show, and it was the highlight of the weekend, especially when Pete Townsend threw that asshole Abbie Hoffman off the stage. That was priceless. The jerk jumped on stage and started spewing this revolutionary bullshit, and Pete told him to, 'get off my fucking stage,' And when Hoffman refused, Pete cold-cocked him." "What about Hendrix?" Craig said. "Missed him," Rachel said. "By the time he came on, I was burned out, tripped out and exhausted. It was about 9 o'clock in the morning on Monday, and I was already five miles back down the road, walking." "Best time... of my life," Rachel said, and she couldn't stop the tears from the memories that flooded her mind. Instinctively, Craig pulled Rachel into a hug, and he felt a chill race up his body as he felt his grandmother's trim body against his. Rachel leaned into her handsome young grandson, and not for the first time, felt the forbidden feelings rush through her. Rachel was giving her grandson a guided tour down memory lane, a three-week cross-country trip for his high school graduation. He had grown up on her stories of Haight-Ashbury, of Greenwich Village and of Woodstock, and they utterly fascinated him. They had spent several days in New York and were spending this day visiting the site where the Woodstock Festival had been held, then they were headed off to Niagara Falls and points west. When she had composed herself somewhat, Rachel took Craig's hand and led him down the hill, where 400,000 young people had turned the area into a muddy mess. "We thought we were going to change the world," Rachel said. "But, really, we just found a different way to fuck it up. We were so fired up when we left here, then it all fell apart, almost overnight. Three-and-a-half months was all it took to go from peace, love and happiness to sympathy for the devil, Hell's Angels with pool cues and some poor bastard getting stabbed to death right in front of Mick Jagger." Rachel idly fingered the almost invisible scar on her forehead, the result of being accidentally hit by a cue stick during the melee at Altamont. "You know, the thing is that Rock Scully thought Woodstock and Altamont were just the flip sides of the same coin," Rachel said a trifle bitterly, after a period of reflection. "But I don't recall seeing him out here working the kitchen to feed hungry kids or helping the doctors take care of the overdoses. He was too busy sitting backstage smoking pot with Jerry Garcia." "Well, Gram, what else was he going to do?" Craig said. "He was their manager, for crying out loud." "Yeah, I guess so," Rachel said, flashing her grandson her thousand-watt smile. "But, dammit, for one time in our lives, we were a community, we all came together without thinking about anything but helping people who needed it. That's why you and I are here. Dammit, this meant something to me!" Craig had to laugh, in spite of himself. He loved his grandmother more than anyone in the world, especially when she got like this, when her tattered liberalism showed a brief flicker of life. Rachel had been a true child of the Sixties. She'd been born in 1947 in San Francisco, and had grown up in the suburbs south of the city. Even before she graduated from high school in 1965, she'd begun to sample some of the underground life that was sprouting all through the Bay Area, and when she was 18, she moved into the city. Her stated motive was to attend San Francisco State and go to nursing school, but that quickly fell by the wayside as she immersed herself in the counterculture of the time. For the next 4½ years, she lived the hippie life, criss-crossing the country in search of high times, and not even having a baby in early 1967 slowed her down. Her daughter Linda had been dragged from pillar to post for most of the first three years of her life, alternating between living with Rachel and Rachel's parents, and that had always colored their relationship. Altamont, in December of 1969, was the ill-fated "festival" on the East Bay that was supposed to feature the Jefferson Airplane, the Grateful Dead and the Rolling Stones. It had been an unmitigated disaster, and it had left Rachel with blood dripping from the gash in her forehead and her illusions shattered. After the first of the year, she decided it was time to grow up a little bit. She took Linda in for good, got a job as an ER tech for one of the city's hospitals while she went to nursing school – this time seriously – and set about making a life for herself that didn't involve sex, drugs and rock-and-roll. Yet, she didn't completely cut her ties with the old days, and in 1974, she finally married an old friend from the Haight named Jack Hardy. She wasn't sure if she ever really loved Jack, but he offered companionship, great sex and a link to her youth. So she had made a life with him for the next 20 years. The problem with Jack was that he still bought into the old counterculture attitudes of nonconformity. He absolutely refused to get a job, "working for the Man," as he put it, and tried to make a living making pottery and selling a little weed on the side. Throughout their 20-year marriage, Jack had been in and out of jail on minor drug charges, and in and out of drug rehab. Naturally, Linda was never taken with him, and when she turned 18, she moved out, to Arizona, and was married within a year. In 1986, she had her only child, Craig. In 1994, Jack's life of relentless self-abuse caught up with him, when he had a sudden heart attack and died. About the same time, Linda's marriage broke up, so Rachel had moved to Arizona to get away from her memories and to help Linda with Craig. It was during the four years that Rachel stayed with Linda and Craig that the tight bond between grandmother and grandson had been formed. Rachel taught Craig how to play guitar and had filled his fertile young mind with the music and ideals she'd had in her youth, all to the chagrin of Linda, who hated everything associated with that period. When Craig was 12, Linda remarried and Rachel moved out, but she took one look at the relationship between Linda, her new husband and Craig, and decided to stay in Arizona, close at hand. She understood that Craig was going to need a refuge, and she had provided one. She loved her sensitive, intelligent grandson in a way she never had quite loved her daughter. But there was something else under the surface that drove the relationship between Rachel and Craig. Lust. Rachel was the first woman Craig developed a hard-on for after reaching puberty, and he had never wavered in his desire, even as he developed into a striking young man who was a big hit with the girls in his high school. Ordinarily, a teenager lusting after his grandmother might be considered a little sick, except that Rachel at 58 was better looking and sexier than most women half her age. She was fairly tall, about 5-foot-10, and slender. She'd kept herself in good shape and had managed to retain most of her ivory complexion. She had long tapered legs, a firm ass and a pair of 36As that still sat up on her chest in open defiance of age and gravity. Her only concessions to her age were the salt and pepper hair that she wore stylishly short, a few wrinkles right at the corners of her eyes and the rimless glasses she was forced to wear. Otherwise, she was still the raving beauty she'd been 40 years ago, with a dazzling smile and big, gorgeous brown eyes. And Rachel often thought about how handsome and how sexy her grandson was. There was no shortage of men wanted to date Rachel, but none of them held the least interest for her. She had always believed that the quality of sex was more important than the quantity, and she preferred celibacy to sex just for the sake of getting physical release. She had her trusty vibrators and a couple of dildoes that gave her all the fulfillment she needed. Most of the time. But as Craig had matured, she had found herself looking at him in an entirely un-grandmotherly way. He had grown into a strapping young man, about 6-foot-1 and a trim 185 pounds. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, with bright eyes and thick curly hair that he wore shoulder-length. Craig's only real physical defect was his nose. An avid runner and a talented soccer player, he'd had a collision with another player during a match that left him with a broken nose. As far as Rachel was concerned, it just made him look that much sexier. For a long time, she had fought the perverted desires that had bubbled under the surface, but she wasn't sure she could fight them off much longer, or whether she even wanted to. She had always sensed that Craig felt the same way about her that she did about him, and she had planned this trip as a reward for his outstanding academic achievement in high school. If there was something there, it would happen; if not, they would still have a wonderful time together. Craig was headed to Arizona State in a few weeks, but he wanted to see the country before he started college. Linda had never had much wanderlust, and their vacations had been limited to the Grand Canyon and the beach at San Diego. Rachel and Craig had flown from Phoenix to New York and had spent some time visiting some of Rachel's old haunts and a few old friends. During the three nights they'd spent at her friend's midtown apartment, they really hadn't had much opportunity to be alone together, but now they were off on their own. They had rented a car, and bright and early that morning, they had headed up the Thruway, on their way back to Woodstock. They had no definite plans, no particular place in mind to stay that night. They were just going to enjoy the day on the grounds, then go as far as they could before stopping for the night. They had parked on the grounds at Yasgur's Farm, a mile or so from the original site, where parking is not allowed. They had visited and swapped stories with the good folks who run the farm, keeping the spark of the Woodstock spirit alive, then they had hiked to the site itself, where a monument commemorates the event. During daylight hours, visitors can walk the grounds where the performances took place, but it is closed at dusk and camping isn't allowed. Rachel and Craig wandered through the area, then walked back across the road toward the large pond that sits just north of the site. Rachel had a devilish look on her face as they walked around the edge of the pond, until they came to a somewhat secluded spot. "This was the infamous bathing pond," Rachel said with a grin. "I believe there were a few babies made on this site." "Oh?" Craig said, his interest piqued. "If you wanted to clean up in any way, this was the best place to do it," Rachel said as she sat down on the grass at water's edge and began to pull off her boots and socks. "I don't know about you, but I'm hot and I could use some refreshment." With that, she peeled off her shorts, pulled her T-shirt over her head and waded into the cool water in just her panties and bra. When she was about waist-deep, she dove under the surface, then emerged with water streaming from her face and chest. "Come on in, the water's wonderful!" Rachel yelled to Craig. Craig was goggle-eyed at seeing his sexy grandmother in such a state of undress, but he knew an opportunity when he saw one, so he slid his sandals off, dropped his shorts and T-shirt and waded in with just his boxer shorts on. His cock was tingling and swelling as he dove into the water and swam out to where Rachel was treading water. "Wow, Gram, this is nice," Craig said. Rachel was in a playful mood, and she decided to push things to see where they went. "What's nice?" she said. "The cool water or the fact that you're seeing me in my underwear?" "Both," Craig said. "Oh, so you've been checking out my body, have you?" Rachel said as she latched onto Craig's strong shoulders. "You've got a beautiful body, Gram," Craig said, his cock starting to stiffen, even in the cool water. "I've always thought you were the sexiest woman around." They stared in each other's eyes in that moment, and that's when they both knew what was coming. But Rachel knew this wasn't the time or place, so she broke away from Craig and swam toward land. Craig stifled a groan of arousal as he watched Rachel's sleek wet body emerge from the pond. His cock was a raging beast as she turned and fixed him with a disconcerting gaze. He could see clearly the dark spots through her wet, lacy bra where her brown nipples were visible, and the dark patch between her legs, which was clearly defined through her satiny bikini panties, panties that couldn't quite contain all of her thick, luxuriant bush. Rachel sat back on the grass and watched Craig climb out of the water, and her gaze was fixed on the big fat cock that his boxers weren't nearly able to hide. She felt a hot flash race through her body as she admired his youthful physique, and at the knowledge that she had aroused him. Craig sat down next to his grandmother and they lay back on the grass, letting the sun dry their bodies and their underwear. They were both lost in thought, until Craig finally worked up the nerve to ask a question he'd puzzled over for a long time. "Gram?" he asked softly. "Can I ask you a personal question?" "Sure, honey, ask me anything you want," Rachel said, as Craig's voice broke the reverie she'd been lost in. "How come you never remarried after Mr. Jack died?" Craig said. "I mean, I would think a beautiful, sexy woman like you would have men beating down your door." "Oh, there are plenty of codgers who've been sniffing around," Rachel said. "You know, I have dated a few, but not a single one has ever done anything for me. I have a happy, fulfilling life with my family, my friends and my job, and I don't need a man around just for the sake of companionship. And as for sex, I'm not going to fuck someone just for the sake of having sex. Besides, there are too many risks associated with casual sex. I'd rather wait for a man I have real feelings for, someone I know is safe and who will take me to where I want to go sexually." Rachel looked right into her grandson's eyes as she said that, and Craig felt a tingle slither up his spine from the casual way she'd talked about fucking someone, and at the realization that she may have been referring to him as the man she was waiting on. "So you haven't had a man since...," Craig said. "Not since the night before Jack died," Rachel whispered. "For all of his faults, and there were plenty, he was such a good lover that I've just never found anyone who I thought could replace him. Or at least..." Rachel stopped before she could say what she'd wanted to say, but they both caught the implication. For a long second, they stared at each other again, and they each looked as if they wanted to kiss. But they were still hesitant, still a little afraid to cross the line. "We'd better get dressed and get on up the road," Rachel said, finally breaking the spell. "I've about had all the nostalgia I can handle for one day." They dressed in silence, and hiked back to the Farm, greeting some other visitors along the way. Before they left Yasgur's Farm, Rachel wrote a check for $100 and handed it to the owner. "Thanks for a wonderful day," she said. "It's not much, but I hope it'll do a little bit to help keep the faith." "Hey now, just keep teaching the young people what it was all about," the man said, nodding in Craig's direction. "You know, just pass it on." Rachel and Craig were silent, lost in their thoughts as Rachel drove the rental car over the meandering highways leading away from Woodstock. In some ways, seeing the site had a little anticlimactic for Rachel. It was just another open field in another rural locale, and the controversies surrounding the area depressed her. This wasn't the Woodstock spirit she'd felt back in '69. But Craig had definitely picked up the underlying vibes of the place that no amount of legal rancor could ruin. He had basked in the aura of being in the place he'd heard so much about, where the bands he idolized had bravely performed under often-stressful conditions. Craig had always had a passion for the music and the trappings of the late Sixties. Most of the kids in his class preferred the hard-driving metal of the modern era, and there was some of that music that Craig found tolerable. But he much preferred the groups he'd grown up listening to at Rachel's place: the Dead, Quicksilver, the Airplane, Neil Young, the Doors and, above all others, Jimi Hendrix. To go back with his beloved grandmother, to walk the fields she'd tripped through 36 years ago had been a dream come true. And what had really made the day for both of them was the surreptitious swim and the way their mutual lust had bubbled to the surface. They knew now that it was only a matter of time; they just didn't know how exactly it was going to happen. It was around 8 o'clock and the sun was setting in the west when they reached Syracuse. They debated pushing on a little further, but they were tired – and they were keyed up from the events of the day and the promise of the night. The found a Holiday Inn on the west side of the city, and when Rachel went in to inquire about a room, she was told the only rooms they had left were single-bed. The manager working the desk hastened to say that they were king-size beds, but Rachel barely heard. A slow smile crept across her face as she envisioned the possibilities. After bringing in their overnight bags, Rachel insisted that she needed a shower before dinner. Craig could feel the tingling in his groin as he thought about Rachel naked in the shower, and he considered simply taking the bull by the horns and taking a shower with her. Instead, he sat in a chair and idly picked at his guitar while listening to the shower run. Rachel had a towel wrapped around her chest when she emerged briefly from the shower. After throwing on some panties and a bra, she gave the bathroom over to Craig for him to shower, and this time it was Rachel who had lustful thoughts about her naked grandson. Back to Woodstock She tried one last time to tell herself that this was wrong, that she shouldn't be contemplating a sexual relationship with her grandson. But even as the words were formed, the aching need in her groin reminded her just how long she'd gone without love, without a man to hold her, to stroke her, to fuck her. She found the sexiest dress she'd brought with her on this trip, a snug, sleeveless outfit that stopped just short of her knees, and a pair of low heels, which were the only kind she ever wore. Rachel rarely needed much makeup, but she put it on just a little heavier than usual and fished out the bright red lipstick she hardly ever wore. Craig gave a low whistle when he emerged from the shower and saw his grandmother looking as she did. "Wow, Gram, you look sensational," Craig said. "Why thank you, dear," Rachel replied, her smile illuminating her face. "Always nice for an old lady to get a compliment from a sexy young man." At dinner, Rachel got Craig to open up a little about his love life. He'd had several casual girlfriends during his high school years, but nothing serious. He was too busy having fun playing the field to get serious about anyone. Without getting him to admit it openly, Rachel had figured out that Craig was no virgin, and she smiled inwardly at that realization. For his part, Craig couldn't help but stare at his beautiful grandmother, the elegant way she carried herself, the way she'd gotten herself fixed up for just an average dinner with him and, most of all, the way her inner smile seemed to radiate from her laughing eyes. To him, Rachel was the embodiment of the perfect woman, and he wanted her so badly he couldn't stand it. After they returned to their room, Craig sat back in the chair and picked at some old songs while Rachel prepared for bed. She was tired from the long day of walking and from the emotions that being back at Woodstock had brought forth. Rachel normally wore a sleeveless nightshirt and that's what she had on when she emerged from the bathroom and crawled in bed. Craig sat up for a little while, softly playing his guitar, watching Rachel sleep and listening to her soft, rhythmic snoring. Finally, he stripped down to his shorts and climbed in bed. Sleep eluded him, however. At first, he tried facing the wall, away from Rachel, but the more he lay there and listened to her sleep sounds, and felt her body in the bed next to him, the harder his cock became. He rolled back over and slowly slid his body closer to Rachel's until he was in a cuddling position. As he wrapped his right arm around her chest, he was gratified to feel her back into him, so they were pressed together. Craig couldn't help it. His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and it cupped Rachel's breast and began to softly stroke the small swell of her flesh and the rock-hard nipple. His cock was like steel as it poked through the hole in his boxers. He felt an electric sizzle when the leaking head of his cock touched Rachel's butt. He slid his hand down to his cock and beyond, and was astounded to discover that Rachel hadn't worn her panties to bed. And her pussy was hot and wet. He sluiced two fingers between her lips, feeling the soft, thick carpet of hair that framed her sex. Rachel let out a soft moan as Craig slowly, expertly fingered her pussy. She reached back sleepily, grabbed his cock and stroked it softly as she slowly emerged from her slumber. "Oh, Craig," she whispered. "Fuck me, baby. Fuck Gram like you've always wanted to. I need you." Rachel rolled onto her back, her eyes puffy with sleep, but a soft smile on her face as she pulled Craig to her and they kissed, long and luxuriant, the kiss of promise. The longer they kissed, and the more their tongues battled, the more frantic they became. Craig's fingers were a blur in Rachel's pussy and her hand was stroking his cock with purpose. When they broke the kiss, Rachel looked up at her grandson with blazing eyes as she pulled the nightshirt off and tossed it aside. She stared hungrily as Craig slid his shorts off and knelt between her legs. "Oh yeah, baby, fuck me," Rachel said in a voice thick with lust. She didn't care that this naked man in her bed was her 18 year-old – going on 19 year-old – grandson; he was a man, a sexy, virile man, that she loved more than anyone on the planet, and she wanted him almost as badly as he wanted her. Craig just drank in the sight that he wanted burned in his memory forever, the sight of his sexy grandmother naked and open just for him. He knee-walked his way in until the head of his cock came into contact with the open lips of Rachel's pussy. Groans of satisfied lust filled the room as Craig slid his cock all the way in Rachel's steamy pussy. He hovered over his grandmother as he worked his cock in a strong, steady pace, and she wrapped her legs around his waist and worked her hips back in response. Rachel's hands caressed her grandson's muscular chest while Craig filled his hands with his grandmother's perfect tits. Higher and higher, up the ladder of lust they climbed as their bodies were locked together as one. Rachel's head was thrown back as she gasped and moaned in mounting climax. "Oh God, baby; oh God, baby, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!" Rachel cried out as her orgasm reached critical mass. Craig's cock was churning harder and harder as he fought to hold back the sea of cum that was on the edge of release. He waited, waited, waited, keeping his pace measured while he watched Rachel's facial contortions that told him she was close to climax. Her body was jerking and twitching, and her head was thrashing on the pillow as the long-dormant feelings of passion swelled in her body. Suddenly Rachel's keening cries reached a crescendo, then it seemed like time stood still, for just a fraction of a second, until she groaned heavily and her body convulsed as her orgasm crashed through her. Craig felt the tingling in his groin and he fucked Rachel at a blistering pace, until he felt the electric sizzle of his cum explode out the end of his cock. Grandmother and grandson held each other for dear life as their mutual climax washed over them. They were one in their forbidden lust, forever changed by the utter passion that had burst forth between them. Craig kept humping his cock as deep as possible in Rachel's spastic pussy, shooting out every bit of cum he'd had stored back over the previous weeks, in anticipation of just that moment. And Rachel kept feeling little aftershocks as she held her beautiful boy in the grip of her love. Finally, with a mutual exhale, it was over, and Craig slumped onto his grandmother's sweat-covered body, his arm draped across her chest. His sated cock slid wetly out of Rachel's well-fucked pussy, and a flow of hot, thick cum rolled out behind it, dripping down over her asshole and onto the bed. Rachel couldn't help the soft tears that flowed from her eyes. She had been back to the scene of her prime that day, and she'd found love again, albeit a taboo love that could never be expressed openly. "Gram? Are you OK?" Craig said as he reached up and gently brushed the tears from Rachel's eyes. "I'm more than OK," Rachel said. "This has been one of the best days of my life, and it just means so much for you to love me. It's been so long." Again they kissed, this time slower and with more tenderness than earlier. Right then, nothing else mattered but the love they felt for each other, the bond that had always been there. Rachel's mind was already looking ahead, because she knew this wasn't going to be the only night she and Craig fucked each other's brains out. She knew that once they returned to Arizona that they'd have to set some ground rules. She knew that she wasn't going to be able to keep Craig forever, that at some point he'd want a woman, or women closer to his own age. But she was resolved to enjoy her sexy grandson for as long as she could, beginning, she decided, right then. Rachel rolled Craig onto his back, a wicked smile on her face. "I think it's time to show you how well your horny grandmother can suck a cock," she said. "I used to be the best head-giver in the Haight, and you'd be amazed at some of the men I sucked off in my prime. I was a hot number back in the day." "You're a pretty hot number now, as far as I'm concerned," Craig said, his cock swelling again from Rachel's sexy banter. Rachel slid between Craig's legs and took his semi-hard meat in her hand. It was a beautiful dick, long and fat, and she savored the aroma of their previous coupling as she softly stroked it. "You have a gorgeous cock," Rachel purred as she licked up and down his shaft. "No wonder the girls like you so much." Rachel swiped her tongue up the slick length of Craig's cock, opened her mouth and sucked the head and half of his shaft past her lips. She worked the better part of his cock back and forth, and felt the crackling of her lust reigniting, the way it always had before when she had a man in her mouth. She got a thrill as she felt Craig's strong hands in her hair, gently regulating her movements. Their eyes locked and Rachel felt her arousal soaring from the passionate look that passed between them. "Gram?" Craig said in a slightly strained voice. "Why don't you swing around so I can taste you too?" Rachel didn't have to be asked twice. She swung around so that she was straddling her grandson's head and lowered her dripping wet cunt to his ravenous mouth. Craig gripped his grandmother's hips and pulled her spicy slit onto his lips and pushed his tongue into her creamy depths, while Rachel sucked his cock almost to the root into her throat. The groans of lust filled they fed on each other's sex, giving a receiving pleasure in a slowly spiraling well of sensations. The taste of their lust on Rachel's cunt sent Craig's arousal into flames as he thrust his hips up to drive more of his hard cock into her incredibly active mouth. Rachel's clit was open and swollen and he swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud and was rewarded with a sharp, muffled cry as spasms of lust sizzled through Rachel's body. Craig was suddenly possessed of a wicked idea, and even as the thought passed his mind, he slid his tongue up and licked all around Rachel's anus, spearing the puckered flesh while still working two fingers in her soupy cunt. That did it for Rachel. With a gasping cry she felt a climax burst through her body, almost without warning. Her sweaty body shivered and shuddered as her orgasm crashed through her, and she knew she wasn't nearly finished. "I'll bet you didn't know your grandmother was such a nasty girl, did you," Rachel panted as she pulled her mouth away from Craig's purple, cast-iron pipe. "Oh, but I think you're going to find out all about what a horny bitch I am." "I'm ready to learn, Gram," Craig said. "I'm all yours." "Good," Rachel said forcefully. "Because now I want this cock back where it belongs." With that, Rachel straddled Craig's hips, fit the head of his cock to her burning hole and slid her body all the way down until every bit of him was stuffed up her pussy. "Oh, God, yessssss!" Rachel cried as she began to sensually ride Craig's cock. Craig's big strong hands cupped her butt cheeks, which had the effect of working her up and down on his thrusting dick in a slow, smoldering rhythm. Craig was in pussy heaven as he fucked the one woman he'd always wanted, but had never thought he could have. He'd known instinctively that Rachel would be a good fuck, but he'd had no idea she'd be this good. His hands kneaded Rachel's taut buns, the firm ass that was working up and down to give him the kind of pleasure he'd only dreamed about. As he did, he could see her brown-eye winking at him wetly. He slid a finger into his mouth to wet it, pressed the digit to her asshole and slid it in. Rachel growled in lustful approval at the feeling of Craig's finger in her ass. Anal sex had been one of her favorite acts when she'd been younger, a way of giving and receiving pleasure without the risk of pregnancy. "Mmmmmmmmmm, I love it in my ass, baby," Rachel purred. "Open me up and I'll give you a real treat." Craig's mind as blown at the thought of what his sexy grandmother wanted, but he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity, so he pulled his fingers out briefly, licked two of them and pushed them into her ass. Rachel groaned as she felt the ripples of passion mounting in her body from having her butt manipulated. She was ready for it, and judging from the twitching of Craig's cock in her cunt, so was he. She pulled her pussy off Craig's cock, and felt a jolt of lust at the way her juices gleamed off his shaft. She gathered her feet under her, so that she was squatting over his cock, grabbed it at the base and put the head to her hole. Keeping a firm grip on his cock, she lowered her hips until suddenly the head plunged past her sphincter. For just a second, she held him there, adjusting to his size. Then she impaled herself forcefully onto his throbbing cock, taking every bit of him in one long, groaning, screaming plunge. Grandmother and grandson were like two animals now as Rachel rode Craig's cock dementedly, her head thrown back in howling lust. No more than a minute after they'd started, Rachel felt the white heat of her orgasm spilling through her body, and one hand slid between her legs to work her spastic pussy. She rocked up and down on his burning spear and Craig rocked up and down in her hot, buttery ass, the sensations too good to describe. Loud sex noises filled the room as they hurtled toward a stupefying climax. Rachel was beyond words, beyond consciousness as she fucked her ass up and down on Craig's dick. She dimly felt his hands squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples, and she leaned back to let him do whatever he wanted. She surrendered completely to his desires, gave herself over to their mutual pleasure. Craig had thought the first climax he'd experienced with his grandmother had been sensational, but this one was beyond comprehension. He could feel the rusty tingle that told him he was about to blow a huge load, and as he felt Rachel's body jerk in another hard climax, he gave up trying to hold it back. With a roar, he thrust his cock as deep in Rachel's rectum as he could and spewed liquid fire from his loins. He basted his grandmother's bowels in a rush of sensation that left him breathless. Waves of passion seemed to crash over their bodies as they twitched and shook together. Craig held Rachel tight in the circle of his arms as she slumped back on his chest, utterly drained from the intensity of what they'd just experienced. For long minutes, they lay back in the stunned afterglow of their shared passion. Slowly, Rachel rolled onto her side as they each drifted off into a contented slumber, Craig's cock still wedged in her ass. Their sticky, sweaty bodies clung together as they slept and dreamed of the many passionate nights together that lay in the future, all arising out of a trip into the past, when a hippie grandmother took her eager grandson back to Woodstock. *** AUTHOR'S ADDENDUM: This is a work of fantasy fiction, and as such the characters can do anything they want anywhere they want, without consideration of the realities of life. However, the realities of life as it pertains to Woodstock in 2005 are that access to the grounds where the actual performances took place is mired in legal controversy, to the point where merely disseminating information about the site is subject to legal dispute. Visitors are usually directed to the Yasgur's Farm site, approximately a mile from the monument that sits at the entrance to the property where the original Woodstock site itself is located. The proprietors at Yasgur's Farm invite visitors and encourage camping on the grounds there. Beyond that, visitors are apparently on their own, and may run the risk of action by authorities and other security personnel should they attempt to go where they're not supposed to go. The best advice should you be interested in a trip back to Woodstock is to heed whatever the locals tell you about where you can and cannot go, and stay within the bounds of the legal limits.