tagIncest/TabooGrandma and the Birthday Present

Grandma and the Birthday Present

byMisterReason©

The events that took place on a Fall day in 1999...

***

I had been waiting for my grandmother out in the kitchen for almost an hour, and to be honest I was starting to worry because what I had given her to read shouldn't have taken her more than ten or fifteen minutes to finish.

It was possible that she had read it and perhaps not believing what she had read, went back over it again. It was also possible that she had fainted after reading what I had written, the horror of what I had described too much for her.

I dismissed the chance that she could have had a heart attack because she's as healthy a 61 year old woman can be. She ran a 5K race a couple of weeks ago and had finished first in her age group.

So I waited, leaning on the stove, and watched the clock, figuring that when it became a full hour and she still hadn't emerged from her computer room, I would come in and check on her, but what I really wanted her to do was come out to my birthday party in the kitchen.

On the table was the birthday cake, two pieces taken out of the homemade cake Grandma had made for me, the 18 candles long ago blown out. I had made my wish, and now I was waiting to see whether it would come true or not.

The birthday card Grandma had given me was on the table, along with the $18 - one for each year I have been around - and that had been a tradition of hers, along with the best cakes I had ever tasted every year.

Grandma did a lot for me over the years, especially after my Mom passed away, and I tried to do all I could to help her as well after Grandpa died four years ago. Now I was asking her to give me the one present that I had fantasized about ever since my interests evolved from games to girls.

Just before I was about to go check on Grandma, I heard footsteps coming down the hall, and then Grandma entered the kitchen, ashen faced and walking like she was in a trance. I don't know if she even saw me at first as she walked over to the sink and got a drink of water.

The floorboards squeaked as I walked over to join her at the sink, and when I got behind her I could see her hand - the one that held the glass was shaking, the water that remained dancing inside. I saw her wedding ring, still worn after all these years because, as she often said, in her heart Grandpa and her were still together.

It was a romantic thought, and while it was true that they probably shared a special love, it was also an unusual relationship. I had learned about it by accident a couple of years ago, when I was helping Grandma clear the attic of a bunch of Grandpa's stuff.

Now Grandma was aware that I knew her little secret, and as I stood behind her and put my hands on her shorts, I heard her suck breath in through her teeth, and as I gently kneaded her bony shoulders I heard her breath come chattering out.

"Bradley," Grandma said, and I interrupted her, reminding her that wasn't the word I asked her to use after she read my story, and then because I felt I had to know, I asked her how she liked my story.

"It was - graphic," she managed to say, and I had to admit that it was that indeed.

What my Grandma had just finished reading was a story of mine that was inspired in part by my discovering this website called Literotica, and being a horny guy I found those stories were very arousing. I thought I could do just as well as a lot of those authors so I gave it a shot, and wrote about the woman I lusted after and wanted more than any other.

I had already experienced sex with a couple of girls, and I thought it was funny that my girlfriends always seemed to resemble Grandma, since they were tall and slender. I also admit to having closed my eyes at times while we were screwing and pretended that it was Grandma beneath me.

"Those pictures," Grandma said as I nibbled on her neck.

"They're in the shoebox on your dresser," I told her. "All of them."

"Ward - he told me he burned them," Grandma said. "Why he hid them in the attic - I don't know."

"Probably used them like I did," I said honestly, and I could picture the old guy, who was about a dozen years my Grandma's senior, shuffling up there to take them out of hiding and going through them, reliving memories.

Grandma's head went up at that, and even though I couldn't see her face I suspected she was rolling her eyes and cursing her husband for leaving her so exposed like this.

I had come across the shoebox of Polaroids by chance, seeing the end of the box stuffed behind a piece of dangling insulation, and when I peeked inside and saw what it was, I didn't say a word about it and brought it home for a closer inspection.

The pictures were, well they were pornographic, to put it mildly. They depicted nudity as well as every sex act imaginable, and some of them even tested my imagination. Some of them were of one person, most of them were showing two people, and a few of them even had three participants.

There were close to 2 dozen different people in the photos all together, but there was only one person that was in every single Polaroid. It was a women that was a knockout back in the 70's when those pictures were taken, and although the reddish brown hair had given way to grey and there were a few wrinkles as well, she was still hot. My Grandma.

"Please," Grandma said when I tried to turn her to face me, and she was gripping the sink now. "I have to tell you, but I can't look you in the eye right now. I'm so ashamed."

"I love you," I said. "Just like I said in the story. The pictures, I didn't understand them at first, but I'm older now."

"Your grandfather and I - we really loved each other," she said in a quivering voice, and I ran my hands down her smooth rail-thin arms as she spoke. "Those things you saw me doing. I haven't seen those pictures in over 20 years, but I remember some of them."

"Do you want me to get them?" I said. "We can look through them together."

"No!" Grandma said sharply. "Please don't tell me you showed them to anybody else."

"I didn't," I said truthfully.

"Your grandfather - let's just say he had this - habit?"

"Fetish?" I asked.

"Is that what they call it? Anyway, him and I, we had a great sex life, but one day he suggested that we could make it better," Grandma explained. "The kids were out on their own, your Mom was away at school. So your grandfather tells we that we could get involved in something that was all the rage at the time."

"Swinging?" I asked.

"That's what they called it," Grandma said. "It wasn't my idea, but I wanted to make Grandpa happy so I did it, and after I got over the nervousness I have to admit that I liked it."

"Then something happened. Your grandfather, he didn't seem to be all that eager to be with the the wives of the husbands I was with, and then he admits that he doesn't really enjoy making love to anybody but me," Grandma said. "I say fine, let's not do it any more, but he said no..."

"He wanted to watch you with other men - and women," I added, and I could see Grandma's head nodding.

"So he would stay in the room while I had sex with these other people, and he would take the Polaroids of us while we were - you know," Grandma said. "He said that he enjoyed looking at them with me after the other people left. I'm sure he gave pictures to the other men and women too, so who knows how many of them are out there."

"Were these people friends?"

"Some were," Grandma said. "I'm still friends with a few of them, even though none of us are crazy like that any more. Some of the folks your grandfather found in these ads people would put in magazines. They were almost always decent people who were just - adventurous."

"I recognized Grandpa's writing on the backs of each photo," I said, reciting some of the ones I remembered. "Emily and Bob, Emily and Ellis, Emily and Denise, and the one - Emily and Miles. That wasn't..."

"Your Uncle Miles," Grandma said with a sigh. "We were getting out of control around that time, and I think we stopped swinging soon after that."

"You were so beautiful back then," I said, my hands going down the lightly freckled arms while nuzzled by way to her ear through her short silver hair. "And you're still beautiful."

"I'm not," Grandma said, shaking her head. "I'm nothing like those pictures these days, if that's what you're thinking, Bradley."

"I want to see for myself," I said, moving my hands to the bottom of her blouse, and as I started up the row of buttons Grandma kept gripping the sink. "You read in the story I wrote what I think you look like."

"I don't," Grandma sobbed, and when I got the last button free I parted the blouse open and peeked over her shoulder.

Her breasts, back in the days of the pictures, were small cones that jutted straight out, and I knew that with her in her sixties they wouldn't be like that. I saw the little orbs nestled in the cups of her bra, 34A that I knew from many visits to her undies drawer, the slightly tanned and freckled area around her collarbone becoming white in her modest cleavage.

My hands came up and took the bra cups in my hands, gently kneading the very soft flesh inside them, and even through the lightly padded harness I could feel Grandma's nipples get hard.

"Bradley," Grandma was saying as her chest heaved. "Not here. Can I at least get prepared? I'm a mess."

"I want you just the way you are," I said, not wanting to give her a chance to think about what I was planning on doing.

I didn't care that she was a little frazzled. I could see the big sweat stains in the armholes of her blouse, formed in the time we had been at the sink, and I didn't care. I didn't give a damn whether she hadn't shaved something or other. It had to be now.

"Your story," Grandma said to the window she was facing. "When you described yourself - what's that true?"

I could have said that she would find out, but instead I pried her hand off of the sink and brought it back behind her, and when she felt the bulge I heard her gasp and whisper something. Did she say, "just like your father"?

I walked behind Grandma all the way down the hall to her bedroom, where her bedside light was set on low, providing the right amount of light for me to see. Still behind Grandma, I pulled the damp blouse off of the shoulder and deftly unhooked her bra.

The bra lurched off, and when I reached around her ribs my hands found her breasts, which hung low and were very soft to the touch. I kneaded the pliant teats, and Grandma groaned and writhed around more and more the rougher I got.

Grandma raised her slender arms up and back as I sucked on her neck, running her hand through my hair as she moaned softly. I let my hands move her to her sides and let them slide upwards, and Grandma's body shivered when my fingers slide through the wet hollows of her armpits.

Grandma had only the lightest dusting of peach fuzz under her arms, a sharp contrast to a couple of the pictures that showed her back in the 70's with underarms that were unshaven, but she seemed to enjoy my thumbs stroking the deep pockets as the faint scent of cologne was stirred up.

Now my hands were moving down, across a belly that had only a little softness to it, and after I undid her slacks I knelt to take them down and off. Grandma's legs were slender but muscular, a tribute to her running regimen, and they were smooth except for a little down on the backs of her thighs.

I kissed her butt through the full cut white panties, and before I eased them down I ran my hand over the front. I could feel the hair through the cotton, and around the crotch I felt the dampness.

The panties came down, and now I was able to kiss her pale white butt, which had only the slightest sag, and then, after not facing her at all during this drama, I turned her around, putting my face right at her bush, and what a bush it was.

The pictures had indicated that Grandma had a wide and thick jungle of reddish-brown hair between her legs, and while it might not be as dense these days and might have a little silver amidst the blaze orange, the triangle was high and wide and the aroma coming from her opening was as pungent as could be.

I buried my face in the luxuriant thicket, grabbing Grandma's butt and pulling her close as I licked away. I was slobbering and snorting like some kind of animal, and when Grandma reached down and grabbed my t-shirt I raised my arms up to let her pull it off me. Then her hands were in my hair pushing my face into her pussy while she did a kind of dance before me.

She began to move away from me, but was only backing up to the bed, and when the backs of her legs hit the mattress she sat down and pulled me upwards.

Grandma didn't look at me, but her hands were fumbling with my belt, almost clawing at it, and while at first I thought her hands were shaking from nerves, I soon realized that she was just as excited as I was.

This wasn't in my story. In my story, the lithe lady was timid and nervous, apprehensive about what she was doing. Up until a minute or so ago, she was just that, but now she was - I don't know - but after she got my jeans button undone and yanked them down her hands were all over the bulge in my briefs.

I looked down and didn't recognize the face whose mouth was moaning while running her hands along the bulge that snaked over to my hip, and after she pulled the underwear down she had dodged my cock when it sprang free, and her hand grabbed my cock as it flew upwards.

Grandma's mouth swooped down my cock, a lot farther than any of the handful of girls I had been with had ventured, while her right hand was jerking what her mouth couldn't reach and her left hand was squeezing my nuts.

I had to stop her, because after about thirty seconds of the most frantic and fantastic cock-sucking if I didn't stop her it was going to be over. Grandma seemed to understand because she pushed herself back onto the bed and spread those slender thighs wide open.

As I moved up between her legs I smiled when I felt Grandma's hand grab my cock, because that was how it was in my story, which had putting my cock into her pussy. She rubbed the plump head of my tool along the lips of her furry grotto before letting me ease into her, and she was as tight as I had dreamed.

This wasn't going to last, that much I knew. I was way too excited, Grandma looked way too good, and her pussy was incredibly tight, so all I tried to do was to last long enough for her to cum. I did manage, but it wasn't easy.

Not only was her snug pussy contracting around cock, she had her legs wrapped around me as she took all 9" inside of her while clawing at my back. When she came, I knew it, because she was what you might call a screamer.

I had chuckled while hearing her scream Yahtzee or Bingo back in the days when we would play games together, but when she screamed as she came, it was 10 times louder. Then again, during those games her face wasn't next to my ear either.

I was already starting to lose my fight to not cum when her pussy crushed my cock, and when she screamed, "OH FUCK!" and began to convulse under me, I gave up.

I stayed suspended over Grandma until my cock slithered out of her, kissing my Grandma like I had always wanted to, and when her tongue joined mine it made it perfect.

"Well," Grandma said. "That was a different way to celebrate your birthday."

"It was the way I wanted it," I said, happy that she didn't start telling me how guilty she was, because while I knew there was guilt involved, I didn't want to ruin this moment. "I used to wish I had been able to last longer, like I did in the story."

"You'll last longer next time," Grandma said as I rolled off of her and rested at her side, at what she said was not lost on me. "You weren't a virgin, were you Bradley?"

"No Grandma," I aid. "I wish I was though."

"Would you do me a favor?" Grandma asked, and when I assured her I would, she asked me not to call her Grandma.

"I mean in here," she emphasized. "In the rest of the house you have to keep calling me Grandma, okay?"

"Okay Emily," I said.

"Was one of your previous conquests that cute little blonde you went to the prom with?" Grandma asked coyly. "Just curious since you seem to know a lot about my private life, or what used to be private."

"A gentleman never tells, Emily," I replied, and she pinched my cheek.

"Just curious, because I think you would have split that little girl in two with that salami of yours. Now don't you look," Emily said as she got up to go to the bathroom.

I looked of course. How could I not, and while she looked fine, parts looked a little the worse for wear. Did I put those scratches on her back? After she got out of the room I looked in the nightstand beside the bed to see if she had any lotion in there, because I was going to give her a massage if she would let me.

I found the lotion but something in the back of the drawer caught my eye. I heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, so I had to hustle it back in, but not until I had figured out what a belt with a fake dick attached to it was for.

"Don't look," Grandma repeated as she hurried back into bed, covering up as much as she could, but when I offered her a massage she happily rolled onto her stomach.

"Mmm, you have magic hands," Grandma said as I worked the lotion up her legs.

"And you have an incredible body, Emily," I said while warning her that if she gave me any back talk I would stop the massage, and as I got to her butt I spread her cheeks. and worked some lotion into the crevice.

"No," Grandma said. "Don't ask. Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?"

"You aren't putting that thing of yours up there," Grandma Emily declared.

"Wasn't even thinking about it," I assured her, and as I reached her shoulders I asked about a friend of hers.

"How is Cassie doing?" I asked innocently.

Cassie's a black lady around Grandma's age, and they hung around together a lot, going to bingo and craft fairs and things, and the more I thought about that strap-on in the drawer, the more my imagination began to work overtime.

"Fine, why do you ask?"

"Just curious, like you say," I said in a devilish tone. "I saw from the pictures that you're a very open-minded woman, Emily. Not that there's anything wrong with that. In fact, I heartily approve if you and Cassie..."

"Let's just say that we're very good friends and leave it at that."

"I just want you to be happy," I said. "Now roll over."

"That's okay. I'm good," Grandma Emily said, but when she figured out I wasn't taking no for an answer she finally rolled over for me.

I was guessing that she feared I would be put off because of the way her breasts flattened out like fried eggs with her on her back, but it didn't bother me a bit, and by the time I got up there to massage her breasts her nipples had popped way out.

Massaging Grandma's breasts while she smiled up at me was like a dream come true, like everything else had been. She looked so sweet with her hands linked behind her head, that I couldn't resist giving her a kiss.

"What was that for?"

"Because you're so sexy, and also because I love you Emily," I reminded her, and she sighed and squirmed after my lotion-coated hands slid under her arms.

"Ticklish?" I asked.

"No - you're learning where my weak points are pretty quick," Grandma Emily informed me. "Behind my ears, the nape of my neck and under my arms - go there and I turn to jelly.

"Oh, so you like this?" I asked as I stroked the deep hollows with my thumbs, and when she nodded I bent over and ran my tongue through her armpit, and that got her to cry out.

"Liked that, didn't you, Emily," I giggled, and she told me that if she knew this was going she would have shaved, but her armpits had only a light fuzz covering them and it was just like kissing a peach.

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