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Granny’s Dirty Photographs
She confronted me in the kitchen. “Where are they?” she asked, stern-faced, arms folded.
One look told me she was angry.
My insides slid with greasy foreboding – I’d been greedy, held on to them for a day longer than I should have. Now I’d been caught out.
“What?” I said in response, but even as I tried to bluff it out, I knew my grandmother wouldn’t let it go. “Where’s what, Gran?”
“You know damn well what, Robert,” she snapped. She knew I’d done it, of course she knew, she could see the guilt in my burning cheeks and shifting eyes. “There’s been nobody else in the house for days. Elaine’s been on holiday for a week; the only other person to come in here is you. I know they were there on Tuesday …” My grandmother held her arms up and fixed me with one of her uncompromising expressions. Having been a teacher for over thirty years she had the look down to a fine art. “Today’s Saturday, Robert, and unless someone broke in and took them, targeted them specifically, the only possible culprit is you.” My grandmother’s finger jabbed in my direction.
It was one of those moments of humiliation when you wish the ground would just open up.
What had possessed me to take them? Why didn’t I just look and put them back? I’d intended to return them as soon as I’d taken copies, but I hadn’t done it in time. What an idiot, a complete and utter twat. I should have known better than to think Gran wouldn’t confront me about it; she isn’t the type to let such a huge transgression pass by without speaking out – even if the occasion would be hugely embarrassing for both of us.
Looking at the floor, cheeks burning, I mumbled, “They’re at home, in my bag, I was going to put them back. Honest.”
“Sit down,” my grandmother ordered after a few moments silence. Still avoiding her eye, I slid the ladder-backed chair along the flagstones of the kitchen floor and sat down with my elbows resting on the deal table. She hit me with questions. “Why did you take them, Robert? And just what were you doing to find them? They weren’t somewhere where anyone could just stumble across them, were they? You had to have been looking; had to have been snooping about.”
“I’m so sorry, Gran,” I mumbled, chin on my chest.
The way she’d spoken that word – snooping – I could hear the contempt dripping from every syllable. I’ve always been curious, inquisitive, or maybe, simply, downright nosey. I couldn’t resist the temptation to pry into the intimate corners of my grandmother’s private things when she was out, I was meant to be fitting a satellite dish to her house but decided to have a nose about while the opportunity was there. Being in her bedroom when I shouldn’t have been gave me a buzz; I got a thrill from the possibility, remote as it was, of being caught. I don’t know what I’d expected to find but coming across a couple of dozen dirty photos certainly never occurred to me.
At first I couldn’t believe my eyes, my grandmother is usually prim and proper, not a prude – as the photos proved – but to me she always came across as straight-laced; she even frowned if I said the word ‘shit’ in her presence. Initially I’d wondered why gran had a stash of nude pictures, what would she get out of looking at some naked woman? And then, as the need to touch myself surged through me, I realised that the subject in the pictures was her – The girl in the photos was my own grandmother!
Now, Gran is still pretty fit. She’s fifty-seven, and I know that because she was nineteen when she had my mother, and my mother was nineteen when she had me, and since I’m now nineteen …
Gran has matured in the graceful, elegant way that a movie star might, in a kind of Helen Mirren style, and I could see quite clearly, now that I recognised her, that the girl in the photos was her. As I flicked through the stack of pictures I could hear my own laboured breathing, I was so turned on by my discovery that it didn’t register at the time that this was my mother’s mother I was all fired up over; all I knew was I had a cock like iron and I needed to pull it.
I took two photos and rushed into the bathroom. Then, with the pictures on the floor in front of me I knelt and unzipped my jeans.
“Sexy,” I grunted, tugging hard at my cock, eyes glued to my grandmother’s big breasts and the tangle of her pubic bush as she posed wide-legged on some ancient bed. “Fucking sexy,” I moaned, still yanking hard. When I came, the spunk gushing out of me, I somehow managed to catch most of it in a wad of toilet tissue I had handy for that sole purpose.
Then, after a bit of a wipe-up, I tossed the clump of soggy tissue into the toilet bowl and flushed the evidence. A kind of madness overwhelmed me, and Instead of cooling my ardour my orgasm had merely fanned the flames of lust, and that’s when I made to insane decision to take the pictures away with me. I had some lunatic idea that defied common sense about copying the photos on the computer scanner at home and then replacing them in the suitcase.
Only that hadn’t happened and now I’d been accused outright by the outraged victim.
“Why did you take them” my grandmother asked, her tone softening a little. “What on Earth were you …” She paused, a hand going to her mouth. “Oh my God!” she cried. “You haven’t shown them to anyone, have you? My God, Robert, tell me nobody else has seen them.”
“No!” I blurted, and finally dared to look at her face. “I swear, Gran, nobody else knows about them. Only me. I haven’t shown them to anyone.”
“Oh, thank God,” my grandmother gasped. “That’s good news. Oh dear, I don’t know what I’d do if anyone else saw them. I need a drink.”
She pushed her chair back from the table and went to the fridge. Gran poured gin into two glasses, added ice and, after pouring in a level of tonic water into each, handed me one.
I don’t like gin but sipped at my drink all the same.
“So why did you take the pictures, Robert?” she asked again. When I just blinked a few times and looked at the table I think the penny dropped for her. “You …?” she gasped. “You mean you looked at them and …?
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I can’t explain it. I’m so ashamed. But … but you were so beautiful, Gran. I mean, you still are, but … but … the girl in the photos …”
“You shouldn’t have done it, Robert,” my grandmother admonished gently. “You shouldn’t have been in my bedroom in the first place, but to do that while looking at pictures of me …” She shook her head sadly. “I’m your grandma, Robert. You shouldn’t think of me that way.”
“I know, Gran,” I replied, my voice a pathetic whine. “I’m so sorry.”
“So you keep saying,” my grandmother responded, curt and severe. “You’re sorry, yes, I know. Now, where are my pictures? I want my property returning, Robert.”
“I told you, Gran, they’re in my bag, at home.”
Our house is a couple of miles from my Grandmother’s. We live on a new-build estate close to the town centre while gran’s place is the same big detached house that my mother and her sister grew up in. My grandmother lives in the house alone, my grandfather having run off with another teacher the same year I was born. I go round a couple of times a week to carry out any general maintenance that needs doing, or to run an errand or two. Gran’s other regular visitor is Elaine, a colleague of hers who only lives two doors down the road.
“Well, will you bring them back as soon as you can? Later on today, or tomorrow at the absolute latest.”
I nodded and drained the rest of the gin. “Tomorrow, Gran,” I agreed, and then added, “I’d better finish off that gutter.” I left my grandmother sitting at the table with her thoughts.
When I got home, I spread the pictures across my bed and, unable to resist the urge, pulled myself off while looking at them again. God, but my grandmother was hot stuff when she was younger. I tugged on my dick and stared at her face as she smiled so confidently into the camera. I wondered who had taken the pictures – Granddad, or someone else? And what had happened immediately afterwards? Had my grandmother spread her legs and flaunted herself at the photographer? Had she offered her cunt to whoever had taken the photos? I could just about imagine her doing it, asking to be licked or fucked; I could hear her voice in my head, and the vulgarity of the words from my grandmother’s pure mouth thrilled me.
“You sexy old bitch,” I gasped when the goo spurted out of me. “I wish I could take pictures of you now. I’d suck your tits and lick your pussy until you begged me to stick my cock into you.”
But when my boiling lust cooled, I felt so ashamed of those thoughts and words. What the hell was wrong with me? Carnal thoughts about a fifty-seven-year-old woman were bad enough, but my own grandmother …? Was I sick, some kind of pervert?
Yet, the next morning, despite the self-loathing of the night before, I still copied the images so I’d have a permanent memento to masturbate over after I’d returned the originals.
“You brought them?” Grandma asked as soon as I set foot in the kitchen.
I nodded and slopped my backpack down on the kitchen table. “In here,” I said.
My grandmother reached for the bag and unzipped it. She pulled the bulky envelope from within and checked inside. Then, to my surprise, she tipped the photos onto the table.
Picking one at random, my grandmother studied the image for a few seconds. “I was a looker in my day,” she murmured. Then, fixing her eyes on me, peering over the rims of her spectacles, she added, “Don’t you think so, Robert? Wasn’t I a beauty?”
Speechless for a moment, I nodded. “You were very beautiful, Gran,” I managed to croak a few seconds later. I looked at her, some indefinable emotion swelling in my throat, and from nowhere, I uttered the same words as the previous day. “You still are, Gran. You’re still beautiful.”
I felt a yearning for her, my own grandmother, and at that second, I felt I could just go to her and take hold of her hand before staring into her eyes and kissing her mouth. My cock was huge and uncomfortable pressed inside my jeans, and I wanted nothing more than to unzip and haul forth my tumescence for her to see.
A strange atmosphere settled between us while I looked at her and she stared back at me.
“Do you think so, Robert?” I heard my grandmother whisper. Her voice sounded so far away, I thought for a moment that I’d imagined that she’d spoken. “Do you really think I’m still beautiful?”
Nothing else in the world existed in those few moments, everything in the universe had condensed – nothing existed except for my grandmother and me and that kitchen.
I swear, in that twilight zone as I moved towards her, I swear my grandmother tilted her face towards me in readiness for a kiss. We were a foot apart, then six inches, she took hold of both my hands in hers, I saw her lips, coloured pink with her favourite lipstick, part as I leaned in to taste her.
“Hello! Anybody home? Sarah? Are you there?”
We both jumped as though a huge burst of electric current had zapped between us when Elaine announced her arrival from the back doorstep.
With great presence of mind my grandmother scooped up the photos and shoved them into my backpack. “You’re back!” she exclaimed just as Elaine appeared through the back door. “We were just about to have a cup of tea,” she added, “but now you’re here it’s a good excuse for a proper drink.” Without looking at me directly my grandmother asked, “Don’t you think so, Robert? I could use a drink. How about you?”
My hands and legs trembled with the closeness of almost being caught by Elaine and the possibility of what might have been. I nodded. “OK, Gran,” I warbled, my voice tremulous. And even though I wasn’t a fan of the gin, I swallowed it down when it arrived a few minutes later.
I’d sat at the kitchen table and listened to Elaine tell us all about her holiday, or rather I’d sat and not heard a word Elaine had to say I was so overwhelmed by what had almost happened with my grandmother. Normally I would have enjoyed being in Elaine’s company, she’s twenty years younger than my grandmother and a terrific flirt. I’ve got the hots for Elaine, and I’d like to think that if I made a real move on her she wouldn’t be averse to a little hanky-panky.
That had been a week ago and I hadn’t been back to visit my grandmother since, so, finally, I decided that it hadn’t happened, that coming close to kissing my grandmother had been just my mind playing tricks. I’d been so wound up by the whole photographs thing that I’d imagined her pink lips coming to meet mine.
Every time I thought about the scene in the kitchen at gran’s house I winced with chagrin. What if I’d actually kissed her and she’d recoiled in horror? She probably already thought I was some kind of perv for wanking off to pictures of her anyway. No, in the end I realised that Elaine had saved me from making a complete arse of myself, for if she hadn’t arrived just at the right time I might have earned myself a place in my grandmother’s bad books forever. I mean, how would I come back from laying a kiss on my own mother’s mother?
I let it lie for another week, deciding that I’d go over to see gran at the weekend, apologise for purloining the pictures in the first place, beg her forgiveness, and then maybe concentrate my attention on Elaine. OK, Elaine herself is twenty years my senior, but she’s a sexy lady – good-looking and shapely – who seemed to enjoy the younger man.
“Look who it is,” my grandmother said archly when I appeared shame-faced at her door. “It’s been a while, Robert,” she chided gently.
Despite my plan to apologise and then head up the road to Elaine’s house – I had decided on the bold approach and was going to ask her outright if she’d like to meet for a drink that evening – I still experienced a frisson of desire for my grandmother. I couldn’t get those damned pictures out of my head.
“I thought I might give you a little time to … get over what I did,” I said. “You know, think about it all without me being around.”
“I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot as it happens,” she replied, moving away from me and through the house into her lounge room. “Come on through, Robert,” she called. “Take a cold drink from the fridge if you want one.”
I opened the fridge and pulled out a Coke. Popping the tab I then walked through to the lounge. My grandmother had settled into one of the two comfortable chairs; I sat in its twin opposite her.
“Thanks,” I said, raising the can.
“Like I said,” gran continued. “I’ve been thinking about the whole thing quite a lot.” She gave me her direct, schoolmarm look, the one where she peered sternly over the rims of her specs. “And I wondered, Robert, if you’d tell me about …” Here she paused and, for one of the few times ever that I’ve known her, appeared flustered and unsure. “Well …” she continued, actually squirming in her seat while she tackled the problem of what to say. “When you looked at the pictures. Do I understand you correctly? Did you masturbate, Robert? That’s what I’m trying to ask.”
My face burned but I suppose she deserved an answer no matter how humiliating the truth might be to me.
I nodded. “Yes, Gran.” I swigged at the cola, suddenly thirsty as hell. A proper drink would have been welcome.
“You looked at the photos and … and …”
“Yes,” I hissed, eyes squeezed closed. “I did.” Then I opened my eyes and looked at her. “Haven’t we gone over this already?” I asked, eyes beseeching her to stop tormenting me.
“I just wanted to know for sure, Robert,” my grandmother said quietly. “And did you mean what you said, just before Elaine arrived – Do you think I’m still beautiful?”
“Oh God, Gran,” I sighed, slumping back in my seat. “Yes, I do,” I admitted in a groan. “I can still see you as you were in those photos. You haven’t changed all that much.”
“Oh, I have, Robert,” she said, mysterious, a knowing smirk tilting the corners of her mouth. Then, without giving me any time to fully analyze her meaning, she went on quickly. “Tell me, did you take copies of the photos?”
My mouth opened and closed a few times as I sat there stunned. How had she guessed?
As though she could read my mind, my grandmother then said, “I do know a few things about computers and scanners, Robert.” She fixed me with a look of what appeared to be wry amusement. “I know you’ve got a scanner at home. It doesn’t take much imagination to conclude you might have taken copies.” She rose to her feet and I, in an automatic response, copied the action. “All I ask is that you don’t show them to anyone else. Ever. Other than that you can keep them for your … personal use.”
“No,” I blurted, horrified that she’d sussed me out. I’d been caught again! Oh, the embarrassment. How could I look her in the eye ever again knowing that she knew I had the pictures? “I’ll get rid of them, Gran,” I babbled. “I won’t keep them. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“Oh, Robert,” my grandmother sighed. She shook her head and looked at me with what I took to be a pitying expression. “It doesn’t matter, dear. Don’t get all agitated.”
She left the room and I heard her footsteps on the stairs as I collapsed into the seat behind me. I finished my drink without registering anything and placed the empty can on a side table. Then I sat there with my thoughts going round in circles.
I didn’t have a clue how long I sat in that chair. It could have been five minutes, it might have been ten, hell, for all I knew it could have been half an hour, but however long it was I couldn’t get the thoughts of my transgression out of my mind. To say I was ashamed was putting it mildly; I had wild fantasies of leaving the country, maybe joining the French Foreign Legion, perhaps after a few years fighting someone else’s wars I could come home and face her.
“Robert?” I heard my grandmother call. “Are you still downstairs?”
Sighing heavily I rose and walked to the door. Tilting my face up the stairs, I called out, “Yes, Gran, I’m still here.”
“Come up here,” she replied. “I’ve found something you might like to see.”
Leaden anxiety dropped into the pit of my stomach. What now? Surely not more pictures? I couldn’t deal with this any longer. I had to get out of there or I feared I might go insane.
“I … I don’t want to, Gran,” I called out, my voice shaky. “I think I’d just better go.”
All I wanted was to go home and hide in my room for … oh, say ten or twenty years, but my grandmother’s voice grew insistent.
“Come upstairs, Robert. I really think you’ll like it.”
So, with my heart heavy with its burden of guilt, and with a deep foreboding rolling in my stomach, I gripped the banister and stepped onto the first tread of the stairs.
When I got to the door of my grandmother’s room I stopped, my mouth falling open.
“Come in, Robert,” my grandmother said in greeting.
“Fucking hell,” I murmured, my brain refusing to believe the message from my eyes.
She stepped a few paces towards me on a pair of towering heels. “Am I still beautiful?” my grandmother breathed.
“Guh-gran … Yuh-yes,” I managed to stutter.
She walked closer to me and, with a soft murmur of endearment, touched her pink-painted lips to my mouth. I felt the taut struts of her corset under my palms when my hands went to her waist automatically. Her tongue slid into my mouth while we shared that soft, oh-so-intimate first kiss.
“I waited for you to come back, Robert,” my grandmother murmured when we parted. “When we almost kissed, downstairs, in the kitchen, I waited for you to come back. I’ve been thinking about you pulling your cock while you looked at my photos, and I decided I wanted to see the real thing. Will you do it for me, darling?” she whispered, her breath wafting across my face while her eyes searched mine intently and mobilbahis she ran a hand over the bulge in my jeans. “Will you show me?”
“Gran …” I groaned, my eyes taking in the sight of her breasts bulging over the cups of the corset, the nipples long and thick in the saucers of their areola. “Fuck …” I muttered, shaking my head. “I can’t believe it …”
“Believe it, Robert,” my grandmother crooned. Then, seemingly a little unsure in herself now she’d sprung her surprise, she said, “Do you like me dressed like this for you? Do you like your gran dressed up for her lovely grandson?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “Shit, yes! You’re fantastic. I …” I swallowed heavily as I continued to drink in the image of my grandmother in a pink corset, pink is her thing, dark stockings and those incredible shoes; I even found her spectacles erotic. “Gran … Can I … can I touch you?”
She laughed and stepped back a pace. Posing, with one hand against a cocked hip, she pouted and said, “Of course you can, darling. I hope we can do more than that.” She chewed her bottom lip and looked me with a glint in her eye. “Would you like me to touch your cock, Robert?” she asked. “Would you like it if I sucked it?”
“Gran,” I groaned again. “Really? You mean …”
“We can do it, darling. Everything you want. I haven’t had a man for a long time. I’m so fucking aroused, my dear, sweet boy.”
I gasped with the shock of hearing the expletive coming from my grandmother’s mouth. As mad as it was, even seeing my own grandmother dressed for sex couldn’t compare with the shock of that word on her lips. And then it got worse – worse for the better if you know what I mean.
“Touch me, Robert,” my grandmother whispered, her tongue pushing into my mouth for a quick, hungry kiss. “I’m so wet, darling. Feel me.”
“Oh my God!” I cried when, after grabbing my wrist, my grandmother wedged my hand between her legs. My fingers found her slick and hot. “And you’re all smooth,” I yelped when I realised the thick pubic bush she’d sported in the pictures was gone.
Gran gave a low, dark chuckle as she rubbed her slippery vulva against my fingers. “I told you I’d changed since those photos, Robert. I was so hairy back then … But how do you like me now?”
“I … I can’t describe it, Gran.”
She came closer to me again and we shared another lingering kiss. Before our lips touched, and before my hands went up to test the weight of her breasts, my grandmother said, “Then don’t try to describe it, Robert. Show me. Kiss me and then take off your clothes. Show me what a big lad you’ve grown into.”
Her fingers had already unbuttoned my jeans when, a little reluctant to break the soft pressure of her lips on mine, we eventually moved apart. I kicked off my training shoes and yanked my jeans to my shins, taking the boxer shorts beneath with them. There was a brief flurry of thrashing legs and a couple of muttered curses when my jeans refused to yield to my efforts to be free of them, but I eventually stood in front of my grandmother, hugely erect with excitement, and peeled my tee-shirt over my head.
“Oh my,” gran sighed, eyes fixed on my cock. “My oh my.” She looked into my eyes, her face split by a wide grin. “We’re going to have such fun,” she said. “Together, the two of us. Oh, Robert, I’m going to enjoy you.”
“Gran,” I groaned when she stepped forward quickly and grabbed my jutting dick. I was incapable of further speech. There wasn’t room inside my head for any thoughts other than this woman, my grandmother, so sexy in her pink corset and accoutrements with her fingers clamped around my girth.
I looked down to where she held me and dimly noticed the rings on her fingers as she fisted my length with a backhand grip.
“Show me, darling,” my grandmother sighed. “Sit next to me on the bed and show me how you touched yourself when you looked at my photographs.”
The mattress dipped when we both settled against its edge. Gran released my cock and urged me to take up where she’d left off. Soon enough I held myself in my fist and stroked my cock.
Lust flared hot and deep inside me. I wanted her, all of her, I wanted to throw her on the bed and devour her. “Gran,” I groaned, my fist moving faster. “I want to kiss you again. Please, I have to kiss your … your boobs. I … I want to lick you … down there, between your legs.” Even as the passion burned bright and my cock swelled with desire I, for some insane reason, couldn’t bring myself to utter the words. I wanted to say tits and cunt, but it somehow seemed wrong and dirty in my grandmother’s presence.
It came as a shock to hear that gran had no such qualms. It quickly became apparent that, when in the grip of sexual fervour, my normally staid and modest grandmother could spit obscenities like a sailor on shore leave.
“Wank your big cock and suck my tits,” she growled, hefting her breasts in her palms to offer her teats to me. “Come for me. Let me see your lovely cock squirt spunk. Show me how fucking horny you are, Robert. I want to see how much I turn you on.” I sucked and slurped at my grandmother’s long nipples, my hand moving up and down my length while I moaned against her tit-flesh. “That’s it, darling,” she sighed, grinning with delight when she looked into my face.
We kissed again, our tongues sliding and writhing over and over. My grandmother held my face in her hands, her body angled towards mine as we perched on the edge of her bed. She sucked at my tongue with such ardour that I thought she’d tear it out by the root before finally breaking away from me with a gasp.
“I want to do it,” she said, the words mashed between her gritted teeth. “Let me pull you. Come for me, Robert.”
‘I’m gonna do it, Gran,” I grunted. “Harder,” I urged. “Pull it harder, Gran. I’m close … so fucking close …”
I leaned in over my grandmother’s busy forearm and sucked her tits again. I heard her give a shriek of surprise and delight when the stuff squirted out of me. Spurts of semen jetted indiscriminately from my cock, thick gouts of goo that flicked across my grandmother’s skin and lingerie while she continued to milk me dry.
I felt a splash of the stuff on my cheek. “I’m coming,” I grunted, entirely unnecessarily considering there were dollops of spunk all up gran’s forearm and splashed across her pink corset. Out of the corner of one eye I watched as a silver thread of trembling jizm dangled from her breast, the febrile strand breaking to plop against one stocking.
“So you are!” Gran cried in delight. “Just look at how much lovely spunk poured out of you.”
“Gran,” I gasped as she slowly squeezed the final ooze from the end of my cock. When I looked into her face I could see that I’d come so forcefully that one lens of my grandmother’s spectacles was opaque with a stray dollop of spunk that had flicked against it. “That was–” I shook my head, staring at the woman who’d given me such an intense, toe-curling orgasm. “It was incredible. I love you, Gran,” I blurted. “Are we going to do this again?”
“Later,” she said before leaning in close. My grandmother licked the ooze from my cheek as she pushed a hand against my shoulder. “We’ll talk later, Robert,” she said, “but right now I just want to enjoy you. I haven’t come yet,” my grandmother reminded me. “I’m so fucking turned on …” I fell back into the bed’s embrace as my grandmother removed her smeared glasses and placed them on the small chest of drawers next to the bed. Next she shifted her position, resting her torso against my thighs, her tits squashed against my leg. “I’m going to clean you up,” she told me. “And then I want you to lick my cunt. Kiss me down there until I come, Robert.” I groaned when my grandmother lifted my semi-erect penis and slurped at the spunk dribbling out of it. “Then, when you’re big and hard, darling, when you’re lovely and stiff … then we can fuck.”
“Say that word again, Gran. It just doesn’t sound like you. Say it again, please.”
My grandmother squeezed my balls and sucked my cock deep between concave lips. She let my penis plop from her mouth and looked at me from where she lay resting on one crooked elbow. “Which word, Robert?” she grinned. “Fuck? Is that what you want to hear? Do you want me to ask you to fuck me?”
“The other one, Gran,” I gasped. “Cunt. Say that word again.”
“Oh,” my grandmother said. “That word.” She shifted her position on the bed, suddenly rolling and rising upright in one movement. I saw her tits swing as she moved before her leg came up over my face. “There,” Gran chuckled. “Can you see it, Robert? Can you see my cunt?”
In that classic position, the 69, I could clearly see the thick meaty flaps dangling between her legs. My grandmother’s sex pouted with slick arousal, her labia glistening.
“Yes,” I muttered. “I can see it. Gran … it looks so good.”
My grandmother chuckled again. “Have you ever seen a cunt like it, Robert? Take a good look at me. I want you to kiss it. Suck my clit and push your tongue inside me. Taste me, Robert. Taste your granny’s nasty cunt.”
The filth poured from her mouth, a torrent of obscenity that had me gasping in disbelief and lust when I splayed her flaps with my fingers and felt her lower her body to my face. “Gran,” I sighed, “I’ve never done this before.”
“You mean you’ve never licked a woman before, Robert?” gran asked.
Working on instinct and from what I’d seen in porn, I dabbed at the shiny pink nub of flesh peeping from under its cloak at the apex of gran’s slit. Slurping at her sex, I probed deep into my grandmother’s opening before I pulled my head away and told her I’d never been intimate with any woman before.
“You’re a virgin?” she cried, immediately lifting her body from my face. “Oh my God, Robert. You mean I’m your first?”
“Yes,” I replied, nodding and feeling a little ashamed.
“That’s wonderful, darling,” my grandmother said with exuberance, her eyes glistening as she looked down mobilbahis güvenilir mi at me. “I’ll try to make it special for you, you lovely boy.”
“You already are, Gran,” I groaned as I lifted my head to suckle at her teats.
We kissed again, slowly, a lover’s kiss filled with meaning.
“I love you, Gran,” I murmured into her open mouth. “I love you differently now to how I did a couple of weeks ago. It’s different now somehow.”
A single tear slid down my grandmother’s cheek as she stared at me. “I know what you mean, Robert,” she replied. “Soon we’ll be lovers, darling. Properly together.” Then, reclined against the mattress she opened her legs and offered herself. “First though, Robert,” my grandmother sighed, “please, my love, please get between my legs and keep licking me. I want to come for you before we do it.”
So, again using porn and instinct and some occasionally urgent guidance from my grandmother, I slobbered and sucked and fingered at her intimate folds until, with a bestial grunt and thrashing of limbs, I brought my grandmother to a noisy climax.
“Kiss me, Robert,” gran gasped as she sat up and mauled at her breasts with both hands. Her fingers pulled at her long nipples while she sat there, eyes glazed and heavy-lidded with post-orgasmic delight.
I knelt over my grandmother’s body and leaned in to kiss her while my cock, at full-blooded, pulsing tumescence, brushed across her corset and she groaned and sighed onto my tongue.
“Are we going to do it now?” I asked, suddenly awed by the moment.
“Do you want to?” gran replied, her eyes locked on mine as she examined my face for any sign of doubt.
I swallowed heavily and, looking at her comfortable body – the big tits, wide hips and finely shaped legs – I nodded. “Yes please,” I murmured.
“Robert,” my grandmother said in a serious tone. She hefted herself up onto her elbows and then rolled onto her side to face me. “Come down here,” she instructed, patting the bed. “Come down so we’re on the same level.” When I’d settled on the bed in a similar pose, one elbow on the bed and my head resting on one fist, gran continued. “You know what we’re doing, Robert, don’t you? We’ve already gone too far. I mean you’re my grandson … Quite simply, Robert, we really shouldn’t be doing this at all. Just stop for a moment and think … What would your mother say if she saw us?”
And that was when her demeanour changed. At her mention of my mother, her own daughter, my grandmother abruptly changed tack. No longer the enthusiastic seductress, she went cold on me.
“We …” she began, and then paused and chewed her lip, brow furrowed. She shook her head, correcting herself. “… I got carried away. I allowed my own moral corruption to taint you, my lovely boy. I shouldn’t have let things get to this stage. What was I thinking? My own grandson … As it is we’ve done some wicked things together, things that just shouldn’t occur between grandmother and grandson.
“Look at me. I’m dressed like a whore. I’m smeared with semen and I’ve even had your penis in my mouth. I’ve used such obscene language in the heat of the moment. My God, I’ve even coerced you into licking me!
“i****t, Robert. That’s what it is. And if anyone in our family ever found out about it, why, I shudder to think of the repercussions, the disgust on their faces. Nobody would understand; I barely understand it myself, and I’m right in the middle, if not the cause, of it.”
An expression of such anguish twisted my grandmother’s face just then, and I reached out to touch her shoulder.
“No, Robert,” gran said as she shrank from my touch. “Don’t touch me. We can’t go on. I’m so sorry. I’ve led you on and I feel terrible about it. You should find yourself a girl, one your own age and to whom you have no familial ties. I’m sorry, darling, but this just can’t happen.”
Stunned by this abrupt shift in events, shocked by the way in which my grandmother appeared to have talked herself out of her earlier burning desire for me, I reached for her again, this time grabbing her shoulder.
“Please, Gran,” I begged. “In don’t care about anything else. Nobody will know, nobody has to know anything. We can do it … I want to do it.” Leaning in with the intention of kissing her mouth, I murmured, “Please, be my first.”
“No,” she gasped, pulling back from my mouth. For long seconds I watched in hope, my heart fluttering in my chest like a tiny bird inside the cage of my ribs. I saw her struggle with some huge conflict inside herself, and, for a moment I thought she would succumb and open her legs to me.
Instead a huge boulder crushed me under its weight of disappointment.
“No, Robert,” my grandmother whispered, seemingly aghast at what had passed between us. “It’s going too far. I … we can’t.”
She rolled away from me and, grabbing her towelling bathrobe from behind the bedroom door, fled to the bathroom.
What the hell had happened? One moment it seemed I’d been on the cusp of sliding my hard-on into my grandmother’s slippery opening, and the next I found myself alone on her bed while she hid away in the bathroom.
I refused to accept the situation; I wouldn’t accept what she’d said without a fight.
Moving out of gran’s bedroom I made for the bathroom door.
“Gran?” I said, knocking. “Come out. We’ve got to talk about this. I’ll go crazy if we don’t get it cleared up. Like you said, Gran, we’ve already gone too far.” I decided to use her own argument against her. “If anyone found out what we’d already done they’d be shocked, so why not just carry on?”
“No Robert,” came the emphatic response from the other side of the door. “I’m sorry, but I want you leave now. Get out of my house. Forget today ever happened.” I heard her scoff out a brittle, bitter laugh. “We’ll never refer to today’s events, Robert. Not ever. Now go. Please. Get out and leave me alone.”
I stepped back from the door. “OK,” I snapped, nodding at the panelled facade. “Fine. I’ll leave. Bye, Gran,” I said indignantly.
I made out I was dressing in her bedroom, going as far as to stamp downstairs to kitchen. “I’m going,” I called upstairs, and when no reply was forthcoming, slammed the back door.
Fifteen minutes later, after I’d crept back up the stairs to gran’s bedroom, she emerged from the bathroom.
“Robert,” she gasped when she saw me, naked and erect, her photos spread across the bed.
“This is what I did, Gran,” I moaned as I pumped my fist up and down my length. “I wanked my dick and imagined what it would be like to fuck you.” I closed my eyes, wincing at the pleasure as I stroked myself. “I wanted to kiss you and have you suck my cock,” I sighed, staring at my grandmother’s slack-jawed face. “I wanted to lick your cunt and suck your tits … And, Gran, I’ve done all that. We’ve kissed; I’ve touched you; I’ve licked your pussy and you’ve tasted my spunk. The only thing left is to fuck.” I stared at her, imploring her with my eyes. “I want you to be my first, Gran. I love you.”
The robe slipped from her shoulders as my grandmother murmured, “Oh, Robert, you beautiful young man. Do you really want me so much?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “For fuck’s sake look at me!” I waggled my erection in my fist. “I’m hard for you, Gran. I fucking want you.”
She came to me at a near run, clambering onto the bed with a huge grin on her face. “Let’s do it, darling,” my grandmother bubbled urgently. “Let’s fuck together. We can talk about the future later. I’ll make us a nice dinner; we could have wine and we can talk. I want you stay here tonight, Robert. We can talk and … and make love, and just be together. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Gran,” I said, nodding. “I’d love to do that.”
She fell on me, all lips and teeth and soft breasts, fingers around my cock as we kissed and tumbled together. Our first coupling, my first fuck, was a rabid joining. I plunged into my grandmother’s body and felt her open as my cock drilled deep into her body. She gasped and stared at me with wonder in her eyes, her mouth a large O. Frantic, I went at her, probing and thrusting, determined to make her love me as I loved her. We kissed, biting each other’s lips, her fingernails gauging welts into my back, thighs and buttocks. My grandmother clung to me, her arms tight around my torso while her calves gripped around my waist and she held me deep inside her body while I juddered and grunted and squirted my seed into her.
“Oh my God!” my grandmother gasped when, on a slide of goo, I eased my length out of her and she fingered her spunk-smeared sex and rubbed her clitoris. “That was gorgeous, darling boy,” my grandmother grunted, fucking two stiff fingers into her squelching opening. “I’m going to come. Watch me come. Oh, fuck … it feels so good.”
We fucked again an hour later. This time, unable to resist the urge to touch my grandmother’s body, I snuck up behind her as she stood at the kitchen counter peeling vegetables. I lifted her skirt and, despite her blurt of protest that Elaine might call in unannounced, slid my hard-on into her from behind. My grandmother dropped the knife onto the countertop and gripped the edge with both hands. She thrust her hips back at me and urged me to drill deep. I found her breasts, freeing their heavy weight by loosening a few buttons of gran’s blouse and levering them over her bra.
“You’re insatiable,” my grandmother panted as she rubbed herself between her legs. “I forgot how ardent young men can be. But this is so dangerous,” she groaned, her hair spilling from its fastenings and falling over her face as her head lolled forward. “If Elaine comes in …”
“I’ll fuck her too,” I grunted, holding my grandmother’s hips and corkscrewing my dick into her. “I’ve always fancied Elaine. I’d love to fuck her.”
“Oh my God,” gran gasped. “I’m coming. That’s getting me there, Robert. You and me and Elaine …”
I must admit that the idea had me squirting spunk into my grandmother’s body.
And what’s more I’m determined to somehow make it happen.
One from years ago – 2013.
I hope you enjoyed the scene. Feedback is appreciated.
Thanks for reading.
Ricky – Cambs, England – 9 August 2019
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