The Best Erotic Stories.

Blackmailed Grandmother Pt. I
by Sam Jason

I hated my Mother.

She was bossy, cruel, self-centered, demanding, busty, and beautiful.

All she thought about since Dad died was the business that she started. How to squeeze the last penny out of it, no matter what it took. That left me as a distract- ion, a bother.

She constantly made me do all the work around the house and only ridiculed me for my mistakes.

I'm sure she was glad to get rid of me for a few weeks during my Summer vacation.

"Your Grandfather is going on a World War II reunion trip, and your Grandmother needs you to clean the attic," she said in her usual bitchy voice.

"But, Mom...," I started to whine just before her hand smacked across my face, making my eyes blurry with tears.

"I don't want to hear any of your complaining," she shouted at me.

I really didn't want to visit my Mother's Mother, my 65 year-old Grandmother. She was even more bitchy and critical that my Mother. I could see where that trait came from.

So, I had to pack up my things for a 2-week trip in the county, in a small, dull town. I took my music and cam- era and developing equipment. I figured I could at least take some pictures (photography was the one thing that kept me sane) while I was there.

I took the train, my Grandmother picked me up at the station. No family greeting or celebration. Just: "Get your stuff and get in the car. You have a lot to do."

I could only imagine what chores were waiting for me. Especially in the heat. It must have been in the 90's.

My Grandmother was about 5'8" and a proportioned 140 pounds. She had short, straight platinum blonde hair that really showed up against her dark tan. Her face was wrinkled, but beautiful (except for her constant stern expression and frown).

She was wearing shorts, sandals, and a loose-fitting blouse that couldn't hide the two large hills that protruded from her chest.

They weren't standing straight out like my Mother's, but hung low, just past her ribcage. I couldn't help but stare when she wasn't looking. They swayed slowly with each of her movements.

Her legs were surprisingly muscular from all the walking that she constantly bragged to my Mother that she was doing.

"Aren't you ready yet?" she sighed in disgust.

I loaded all my gear into the trunk of the car and endured a silent ride to the house.

After getting settled in, she told me to make myself something for dinner. She went out, and I didn't see her again until the next morning.

"Billy, you're here to get some work done, and I don't want to hear any excuses." This was the first thing she said. "Now, get up to the attic and bring all the boxes in the corner down to the curb; they're trash.

Grumbling to myself all morning long, I climbed the 3 flights of stairs more times than I could count.

Whether I was tired, or staggering from the heat, I accidentally bumped into a wall in the attic and knocked a board loose. I thought I broke something and was scared for a minute. Then, I saw an envelope stuck way inside the wall, obviously hidden there.

I naturally took it out, and was shocked. It was dated 20 years ago, and it was from my Grandmother to the local Minister. I had met him the last time I visited.

The letter, never sent, was in my Grandmother's hand- writing. It told, in eloquent detail, of a sexual en- counter the two of them had, and how they have to keep it secret from their spouses.

Also in the envelope was a note from the Minister, saying he was breaking off the relationship and was ashamed of his weakness. This was probably why my Grandmother never sent the letter.

All of a sudden, a plan developed in my mind. I could finally get some respect and control over a woman that treated me like dirt, my own Grandmother.

After carefully replacing the loose board, I finished taking the boxes out. It was late morning when my Grandmother finally talked to me again.

"You took long enough. Now, I want you to completely clean up there," she said as if it were a great bother to even acknowledge me.

"But first, Gramma, I want to show you what I found. It's in my room." I just turned and walked to the room I was staying in.

"I don't have time for your games," she yelled.

I started to read her letter in a loud voice. Then I heard her rush into the room, her eyes wide.

"Where did you get that, you little bastard?" It whispered from her with hate and fear.

"You know where, don't you?" I said shakily, my confidence not strong yet.

"Give that to me NOW!" Her voice raised to a shriek.

"Oh, I will. If you do just one little thing for me."

I could see her jaw tighten and she made a grab for the letter.

I easily avoided her and rushed to the doorway.

"I'm going right down to the church and give this to the Minister's wife," I threatened.

A look of horror passed over her face, and a rage that scared me showed in her eyes. She lunged again, but I started down the hall as if I were going straight to the church.

"Nooo! Please! Stop!" she shouted, defeated. Her shoulders slumped and said, "What do you want?"

I went back into my room and pointed at a paragraph in the letter. "I want to hear you read this paragraph a- loud, but instead of his name, I want you to say my name, "Billy", and where it says "my Minister", I want you to say "my Grandson.""

"I won't, you filthy, filthy boy!" she screamed.

"Then you can deal with Grandpa and the gossip in this little town when I let everyone see this."

She went vacant, deflated. I knew then she would do what I wanted.

"Then you'll give me the letter?" was all she could say.

"Yes, if you do a good and read it as if you were saying to me. You've bragged about being in plays, so do some acting," I commanded, fully in charge now.

"What do you want me to say?" she dejectedly asked.

I pointed, and as she read the words, a shame crept over her.

"Billy... I can't say those things... especially not talking to you... using your name."

"You'd better. And right now," I shouted.

I moved close to the dresser, and she followed. I held the letter in front of her and she read, inserting my name:

"Oh, Billy, I'll never forget how it felt to take your penis into my mouth, to use my tongue on you, to feel your long hardness stretching my lips. Even though you are my grandson, I couldn't resist the excitement of giving you your first blowjob, and finally tasting your cum as you let go. Billy, swallowing that big load of yours was the most thrilling thing in my whole life."

She finished, and I let her take the letter from my hand.

She turned at the door and spat back at me, "No one would ever believe you without this, you filthy little bastard."

She stormed down the hallway, and I reached behind a picture on the dresser and stopped the tape recorder I had there. A quick test proved that I got every word she had spoken in crystal clarity.

I did some more work until late afternoon, took a shower, and did a little preparation for the next step of my plan in my bedroom. My Grandmother obviously burned the letter; I could smell the smoke. She kept away from me until about 4 PM.

I was just wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and underwear when she passed by my room on the way to hers.

She couldn't help stick her head in, give me an evil look, and say, "You dirty-minded bastard, I'll make you suffer for your little prank. We'll see how smart you are."

I was sitting on my bed. I looked her right in the eye, held up my cassette recorder, clicked the play button, and out blared: "Even though you are my grandson, I couldn't resist the excitement of giving you your first blowjob...."

I clicked it off and watched the shock take over every feature of her face.

"You evil creature!" she shrieked. "Give me that now."

She made a lunge into the room, but I was far quicker and rolled over to the far side of the bed. There was no way she was going to get the tape from me, and she now knew it.

Before she could speak again, I said, "Just like I gave you the letter before, you can get this tape from me. You just have to do what I say."

"I won't be blackmailed by you, you obscene prick!" she shot at me in a growl, teeth clenched.

"I just want you to come over here, and undress me completely while I'm on the bed," I stated in a calm voice. I was starting to like being in command.

"No! No! No! Absolutely not!" Her voice was getting louder all the time.

Just then, the phone rang. "You'd better get that," I sang cheerily. I was in no hurry, and prolonging her discomfort sort of pleased me.

She turned, and rushed to her own room, picked up the phone, and said, "Hello, Ron. What is it? I don't have time to gab with you."

It was my Grandfather. I quietly picked up the extension in my room and listened. He was trying to tell of the good time he was having, but my Grandmother kept cutting him off. He also gave his address and telephone number, two things I wrote down, just in case.

Just as my Grandmother was about to end the conversation, I said, "Hi, Grampa, this is Billy. I'm helping out with the cleaning in the attic."

"Billy, get off this phone right now," my Grandmother said in her sternest tone.

"Oh, let the boy talk," laughed my Grandfather.

"Hey Grampa, listen to what I've got on my new tape recorder." I held the speaker up to the mouthpiece and played a few seconds of some non-incriminating talk that went on before I forced the lethal words onto the tape.

"That will be all for now, Billy," said my Grandmother in a falsely sweet tone. "Wasn't there something you wanted me to do now?"

"Oh, that's right," I said just as sweetly. "Goodbye, Grampa!" I shouted happily. This couldn't have worked out better.

I heard my Grandmother say goodbye, hang up, and walk back into my room. Her eyes were murderous, but she looked scared, too. She knew what trouble was on that tape.

I had positioned myself on the side of the bed facing the windows, and just sat there. "Come on over here and undress me. Take all my clothes off, and I'll give you the tape.

"You promise," she whispered.

"I promise; just like the letter," I said. I meant it.

She came over to the bed, and quickly took hold of my T-shirt, pulling it roughly over my head.

"Take it easy; slow down," I said. "Now sit next to me while you do the rest."

She thought for a moment and sat down. I guess she thought it would go easiest and quickest for her this way.

Having her this close to me was exciting. She smelled good, not perfume-like, but clean and fresh, even in this heat.

I looked again at her breasts, hiding under her blouse, low and relaxed. This made me painfully hard.

"Now, what do you want?" she asked with bitterness in her voice.

"Unbutton my shorts and pull down my zipper."

Her hand reached, then hesitated, and then with a sniff disgustedly through her nose, my Grandmother, using only the fingertips of her right hand, quickly undid the single button and pulled the zipper down roughly.

"There, that's enough," she said, and started to rise.

"Not even close," I smiled as I caught her arm and guided her back down to her sitting position. "Now, pull my shorts off me." I raised my hips off the bed.

She was seething, but turned slightly, reached across my body with her left hand, and simultaneously hooked her thumbs on each side of my shorts. With a slight push, she sent then sliding to the floor. I kicked them across the floor, towards the sun-filled windows.

There I was, just in my thin, white underwear, which stretched tightly over the obvious bulge of my erection.

My Grandmother stared for the briefest moment before turning her head, standing up, and saying: "How dare you, you vile boy!"

"Sit down!" I shouted. "Take these off me right now!"

There must have been something in my voice, because she sank down again, though very slowly. She repeated the process she had just completed with my shorts, only this time I was going to show her all I had.

I lifted my hips, and she pulled my underwear down. My erection sprang free, standing straight and proud away from my belly and balls. I never measured myself, but I know I'm way bigger than the average... way bigger.

My Grandmother's caught one glimpse as I kicked the underwear on top of my shorts. Here I was, completely naked and next to my sexy Grandmother. I was thrilled, but, I was only just beginning.

I reached across her body, grabbed her right hand, and before she could react, placed it on my throbbing penis. She recoiled in horror, trying to flee. But I held her wrist.

"Listen," I growled. "You're going to give me a handjob right now."

"Nooo! Never, you pervert. I'm your own Grandmother. I'm a 65 year-old woman. How can you even think of such a thing?"

I knew that this was the decision moment. Either this was going to happen now, or I'd lose everything.

I reached under my pillow, pulled out my cassette player and pushed the play button. Those now infamous words poured out in my Grandmother's voice.

"Don't you remember all you have to lose?" I reminded.

So slowly, at first it was hard to detect, my Grand- mother again rested beside me. I guided her right hand back to my penis, guided her fingers around it, and squeezed her hand tight onto its girth.

I can't explain what pleasure and excitement I felt at that first contact. My own Grandmother's hand was on my most private area. Unbelievable.

I slowly started an up and down motion. "Slow and gentle," I groaned. Then, I took my hand away.

Surprisingly, my Grandmother continued the movement. Her head was turned away, and I could see her face was bright red, even through her dark tan.

"Now, faster," I commanded. Her fist complied, and I staring in thrilled disbelief at the sight of my prick being encircled by those aged fingers.

I had to act quickly now or I would soon explode. I had one more step in mind for my beautiful Grandmother.

"All right," I encouraged, "now bend down and use your mouth on me!"

"What!" she screamed. She jumped up and rushed to the doorway. "You've gone too far. I don't care what you do or say. This is over... over for good!"

But, I was prepared for this. I didn't chase her or argue. I merely reached over, picked up the phone, and started pushing the number buttons. I called out each number as I hit it. I was dialing the number my Grand- father had left earlier in the day.

"Wait until Grampa hears this tape," I said, looking right into her eyes as she hesitated, half in, half out of the doorway. I swear one hand, gripping the door- frame was all that was supporting her. She was shocked!

"Noooo! Don't," she whispered.

"Well, you'd better get back over here and do what I said... now!" I called out the second to the last number and punched it. She still didn't move, so I pushed the last number and held up the receiver to let her hear it begin to ring.

She moved quickly, rushed to the phone and pressed the hangup button. I let her; I knew I could make the call any time.

"No, don't. I'll do what you want," she hoarsely whispered.

I let her take her time, sit beside me, slowly wrap her fingers around my still super-hard erection, and start again the easy pumping motion. Her eyes were on my crotch now, looking at my prick like it was her guillotine.

I reached up and put my hand on the back of her neck, and slowly eased it up a bit into her gorgeous platinum blonde hair. I put a gentle pressure on her head, a guiding direction to my awaiting penis.

At first there was resistance, and then her head started to move downward.

"Please, Billy, don't make me do this," she pleaded.

But, I just continued my guidance, and soon I had a lovely sight: my Grandmother's full lips were about an inch from the little bead of pre-cum lubrication that had already formed on the little slit of my penis.

"Just open your mouth," was all I could say. Excitement was overcoming me, but I still had to remain in control if my plan was going to work.

Her lips parted, and I lunged just enough to make con- tact. She recoiled a bit, but not much. I put more pressure on the back of her head, raised my hips a bit, and the head of my penis disappeared into my Grand- mother's mouth.

I was in heaven, and knew I wouldn't last long. I pushed more deeply into her mouth, but only a few inches. She wasn't sucking or doing anything. Her mouth was more like a paper cup just covering my cock, but that was fine. "Faster," I said as I encircled her hand for a moment, showing her the pace I wanted. I let go of her hand and it continued at that speed.

I fell back onto the bed for a moment, resting, gasping in ecstasy. I opened my eyes and looked at that head capping my erection, that hand gliding up and down. It hit me then: my Own Grandmother was giving me a blow- job... the first one of my life.

I reached under my nearby pillow and quickly sat up as a tremendous stream of white-hot cum shot into my Grandmother's reluctant mouth.

She made a gagging, wretching sound, and I'm sure she was surprised when I sat up and pulled her head off my penis as I was still shooting my second and third streams, these hitting her cheek and neck.

I groaned loudly as this happened. This masked the two clicks that came from the corner of the room.

I pressed her head roughly back onto my penis, and pistoned my hips, sending my cock in and out of those lips at a tremendous speed. Finally, I was done; and I was in a daze. I just sprawled back on the bed and hardly noticed that my Grandmother quickly grabbed my tape recorder and popped the tape out of it. She thought she was being smart; I let her.

"You bastard, you filthy bastard!" she shrieked as she left the room. My eyes were pleasantly shut; I didn't watch her leave.

I did hear her go into her bathroom, and I think I heard vomiting, but couldn't be sure. I did hear the shower go on and continue for a long, long time.

I slowly came to my senses, and reached again under my pillow. There was a small, black button connected to a slender wire. It led to the corner of the room where the clicks had come from.

I wiped up a bit, and then organized my thinking; I had work to do.

My Grandmother avoided me for the rest of the evening. I just got myself something to eat, walked downtown to do a few "errands," and watched some TV before going to my room for a little work on my hobby.

I slept great, even though the heat wave continued. I replayed my blowjob a hundred times in my head, but nothing could compare with the thrill of the real thing.

To Be Continued...


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