Glenda

I suppose this story could fit into a number of categories. Romance, erotic couplings, mature and others. I've chosen mature because of the age difference and the growing up aspect of the young man.

If you're looking for a stroke story you'll be disappointed. There are no gargantuan breasts or shaved nether regions. Though the young man is black he doesn't have a snake in his pants. Those only exist in porn movies and sites like this. He's normal, like the rest of us.

For the word nazi's who will feel compelled to point out this or that inaccuracy concerning geographics or writing style. Find a new hobby, it's a fiction site, get over yourself. For the rest of you, please enjoy the story. May you have a prosperous and healthy New Year.

Glenda

Watching her dress it's impossible to not see that her hair is greying. The nipples on her slightly drooping boobs are long and thick. The little bit of extra padding in her otherwise small butt makes a cute dimple in each cheek. To me she is all a young guy could hope for to learn about sex. Then there was my favorite part which was about to disappear as she pulled her panties up. Her thick and curly bush. I've read where some guys prefer a woman to be shaved or waxed smooth. Not me, I want that pussy to be smothered in hair, just like Glenda's.

Though she isn't the most glamorous woman in the world, she's taught me more about loving and life than I could have ever imagined. It began two weeks after my eighteenth birthday, by the time I was nineteen she had transformed me into a more than adequate lover.

I'd never been with another woman. When she told me that I'd gone from a zero to a hero in the bedroom there was no reason to doubt her. As her obedient student I was receiving rewards greater than anything my young mind could conceive of at times. This lady was my life teacher. Someone who willingly set aside the mores of society by taking this otherwise unwanted youngster into her home before I ended up on the streets. If she had told me to grow wings and fly, I would have tried.

My life was basically doomed from the get-go. My mom was what one might call rebellious throughout her teen years. She chose to shun her parents' admonitions and married the baddest boy she could find. The fact that he was poor didn't necessarily make him bad. His poor choices and even worse behavior did. Their marriage started out shaky and quickly became an earthquake. It wasn't one messing around behind the others back, it was both of them screwing just about anyone of the opposite sex. When she turned up pregnant there was a constant debate over who the father was. Bad boy took his exit never to be seen again.

The one I would eventually call dad stuck around until I was born. My skin was dark like his so everyone assumed he was the daddy. That is until he began seeing traits in me he couldn't attribute to himself. Whereas his hair was straight and thick for a black man mine was soft and flowing with a bit of curl, nor did my facial features come close to being his. Thus, the mail order DNA test without my mom knowing, and sure enough, I wasn't his. Her not knowing who the father might be only made things worse. I was still an infant when he decided to vacate the premises for good. It was at this point when my Mom miraculously made a paradigm shift and actually began raising me, which was no simple feat. I was born sickly and at the tender age of seven looked more like I was emaciated than simply a skinny kid.

As I grew I remained skinny. I was also tall for my age which contributed to me looking more like a bean pole than a growing boy. To my advantage was the fact that I'm smart as a whip and love to run, my mother called me her Forest Gump. Education came easily to me, having exceptional retention skills I could read something once and be able to recite the topic almost verbatim. I wore big geeky glasses, baggy clothes, and possessed the charisma of a cardboard box.

I was sometimes referred to as Urkle, which confused me until I saw an old TV show called Family Matters. I had to admit I dressed and acted very much like Steve Urkle. Not a redeeming factor when you're trying to fit in and be cool. My given name was Titus. What I was called by the cruel kids in school was 'tampon'. When that first started, I didn't know what a tampon was. But when the girls would say it and giggle I knew it wasn't good. When my mother finally told me what a tampon was I was devastated. One more thing to ruin my life.

The only real activity I had outside my study regimen was to run cross country, I was never number one, but I was rated all conference and made it to state from my freshman year on. I also had a passion for anything auto related, I read magazine after magazine at the library. I knew every make and model truck on the market and most of the cars. I never had a date, I was always too afraid of being rejected to even think about asking a girl out. My life changed at the end of my Junior year in high school.

Though my mother had changed after I was born, with me nearly raised she began reverting back to her days of carousing. More than once I was awakened to moans, groans, and the headboard banging the wall. Eventually she met mister wonderful and was determined to marry him, which would have been great except for one caveat. He was not about to finish raising someone else's kid, the fact that I would be graduating and hopefully headed to college in a few years made no difference. When she accepted his proposal, she was willing to give me up in order to go with this guy. I went to sleep that night with tears in my eyes wondering where I would end up and how a mother could do that to her only child?

I barely knew the woman who was called my Gram. She lived far away in a state called Montana, I had only met her twice in my short 17 years of life. She was a family doctor and was always working. She never came to visit us, it was we who went to see her. I used to think it was she who didn't want to come visit. I learned later that it was my mother who kept Gram at arm's length. Gram had semi-retired the year mother was trying to dump me. Through much cajoling, tears and downright begging by my mother this fine lady agreed to take me in. I was to be uprooted as soon as my junior year was finished and start all over in another school eighteen hundred miles away.

I hadn't seen her since I was eight and couldn't remember what she looked like, what her personality was like, or whether we would get along. After all, I would be this tall lanky kid invading her domain. Could we live in the same house and not kill each other? My young mind was filled with a myriad of unanswered questions. Since I'm five foot eleven and couldn't recall her height I envisioned myself looking down at her. I quickly made peace with the fact that she was the only thing between me and a foster home or the streets. My mother would be abroad with her Belgian husband within a week of me being gone.

I didn't have much regarding possessions. My clothes were generally purchased at secondhand stores, my glasses were the cheapest thing available, the few electronics I did possess were all on the verge of being extinct. I didn't have a cell phone or laptop. What I had was an old I-Pad the next-door neighbor kid was throwing away. Within three days of school being finished I had all my belongings packed into four moving boxes and a backpack. I figured she'd show up in some dinky economy car and try to cram everything inside.

Imagine the smile on my face as I watched a late model Nissan pickup stop at the curb. Even more surprising was the lady who got out of the truck. She was tall, slender, and attractive for what I deemed was an old lady. There were the little wrinkles that are associated with age, but her slightly wrinkled face was attractive in a simple rugged kind of way. Her boobs weren't big, nor were they small, they seemed to fit her body perfectly.

She was dressed in jeans, a loose pocket tee shirt and sneaks. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail that hung through the back of a baseball style hat and halfway down her back, reflective sunglasses were the final touch. I'd been sitting on the porch waiting. Mother and her lover were inside bickering about something. I really didn't care what it was about. I wasn't going to have to listen to the occasional tiff or them screwing any longer after today. I stood and walked down the sidewalk meeting her halfway to the house. Standing a foot away from me we were at eye level, I couldn't see hers, but I knew hers were boring holes in my brain.

She extended her hand, "So, you're Titus huh? What a goofy name. Anyway, I'm here to take you with me, I guess. Is that all you have to move? I was figuring I'd have to rent a trailer, damn, we can get all this in the back of the truck. Where's your mom, boy?"

I turned pointing toward the house, just then the screen door opened, mother flounced down the steps and hugged Gram like they were long lost friends. Though Gram tried to return the gesture I noticed she was rigid and ill at ease.

"Hi Mom. It's so good to see you. The spare room is all set up, Titus can sleep on an air mattress."

My opinion and regard for the woman before me was raised exponentially over the next two minutes.

"Not staying. Me and the boy will hit the road as soon as we're loaded. You've done some stupid shit in your life Sheryl, but this tops them all. Go get the paperwork assigning me as his legal guardian so we can sign it, then the boy and me can get going."

My mother's jaw hit the pavement, she spun and headed to the house. When she returned with the paperwork, she made a stupid comment.

"Why are you being so pissy about this? Aren't I allowed to have some pleasure in life? Would you like to meet the man I married?"

I was carrying a box to the truck when she answered, "No I don't want to meet him. Me and the boy will be out of your hair shortly. As for you having personal pleasure, sure as soon as he's 18 and out of school, just like it was with you. You may recall it was YOU who had to run off with the bad boy and have a baby without knowing who the father was. You're the one who didn't want anyone from the family to visit. Don't throw your guilt at me, I'm the one you begged to take the lad. If we're done, let me have the papers and we're out of here."

"But you need to sleep Mom, you can't drive all night." My mother blurted.

Gram frowned, "There are motels and restaurants all along the way. Get in the truck boy, I want to reach the state line before we stop. Sheryl, have a good life, send me a card when you land overseas. And don't worry about this lad, he's going to make something of himself. I'll make sure of that. Goodbye."

Pulling away from the house I glanced at the lady my mother called Gram a few times to ascertain what the mood might be and was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't as hectic as I expected. She didn't say anything as we drove through town, when we hit the open road she seemed to relax and settle back. The cruise control was on, an older classic rock station was serenading us as she tapped her fingers to the music. I decided my best course of action was to be quiet and let her initiate any conversation that may come forth. We were out of town about an hour when she turned to me.

"There's a wayside ahead a few miles. Do you need to use the bathroom?" I nodded yes. "Good, cuz I gotta pee. We'll start looking for somewhere to eat after that."

She didn't talk the way I thought a doctor would talk, she was kind of down homey and what I imagined country would be. I'd been told she lived on a farm but that was all. As we pulled into the wayside, she turned the truck off and turned toward me.

"If you're gonna live with me and go to school there are a few rules to begin with, I'll make up more as time goes on. For starters, I noticed your pants are pulled up where they're supposed to be, keep it that way. If you wear a hat wear it right or don't wear one at all. Don't expect any three-hundred-dollar tennis shoes and if I ever hear you refer to me as a ho, or bitch, I'll cut your balls off and shove um down your throat. Got it?"

I nodded and muttered, "yes ma'am, I mean Gram."

She had turned and was about to pull the door handle when she stopped and looked at me.

"That's something else. I have never been your Gram and we aren't starting now. I was a surrogate mother to your Mom, but I was never your Gram. You're old enough to show me respect and you damned sure will. From here on you're to call me by my name, Glenda. Do it with respect and we'll get along just fine. Now let's go, I'm ready to burst."

My brain went tilt. What was her being a mom but never my Gram supposed to mean? Once out of the truck I wondered if we might not look odd. Me a tall thin young dark-skinned kid and her an older stately woman walking side by side. That didn't seem to bother her in the least, as she went left and me right toward the respective restrooms she looked back over her shoulder.

"Wait for me here in the lobby if you're done first."

I did as I was told, while waiting I noticed several people glancing my way in an inquisitive manner. Not maliciously, more along the lines of wondering why I was milling around the rest stop lobby near the women's restroom. When Glenda exited the ladies room I noticed she'd fluffed her hair and straightened her shirt. Then chastised myself, *well of course she straightened her shirt dummy, she had to tuck it in after she peed*. Walking to me she stopped a few feet away.

"Do you need a pop or chips or something to tide you over, I figure we'll stop to eat in another hour or so."

I was perplexed, "What's a pop?"

She chuckled, "It's a soda, don't worry, you'll learn those things as you go along. So, do you need a snack to tide you over? That means to see you through until we stop."

I smiled, "No ma' ... I mean Glenda. I know what tide me over means, I'm fine."

The next twenty minutes or so were quiet, even though I could tell something was on her mind.

She finally spoke, "I need to ask this, so bear with me. Do you like the name Titus? Be honest."

"Nope, I hate it. I get teased about it a lot. It makes me sound like some superhero cartoon character. Being tall and skinny I never felt strong enough to defend myself. It can make life difficult."

She remained quiet another ten minutes before she spoke, "What kind of name would you prefer?"

I didn't have to ponder a moment before I replied, "Eli. After Eli Whitney. The guy who invented the cotton gin. I don't know anyone named Eli, but I wish that was my name."

She made a quick glance at me, then back at the road, "Eli huh? Seems odd considering he was a white guy and your skin is brown. Why Eli?"

"He was extremely intelligent. Some of his contributions to the world of agriculture are still being used. I would love to be an engineer like him some day."

She grinned, "Well, I have full power of attorney over you, let's see if we can't get your name legally changed. It might take a few months, I have a lawyer friend, I'll have her check it out. Would you like that?"

"Oh yes ma'am, I mean Glenda. I would love that. A new name in a new town, that sounds wonderful to me."

"Okay, here's what we'll do. I'll call you Eli. When we get home I'll introduce you as Eli, they don't need to know any different. Whether we can change it legally or not, we'll keep using Eli. If anybody questions it we'll say it's your nick name."

She exited in Paducah, KY where we found an IHOP, had a quick supper and went looking for a motel. She'd told me which bags of hers to grab from the backseat, I only had the one and stood waiting for her in the entryway. When she was finished at the desk she signaled for me to follow. Walking into room 209 I noticed two queen size beds and momentarily panicked. I'd never slept in a room with a woman before. She obviously sensed my discomfort, closing the door she told me to put the bags on the bed.

"This may seem awkward for you, but I'm sure you've seen your mother in a nightie" I nodded. "This won't be any different. Do you sleep in pajamas, or your underwear?"

I stuttered, "U, u, underwear."

She took over the conversation, "Then here's what we'll do. I'm ready to hit the hay if you are." Once again I nodded. "I'll go in the bathroom and get ready first, when you go in, I'll turn out the lights and get into bed. That way you won't be embarrassed. Okay?"

I continued with my most noticeable mode of agreeing up to that point, quietly nodding my head. When she came out I couldn't help but notice that without a bra on her breasts sagged a little, but very little. They swayed slightly, they looked soft and full, although, to be honest, I had no idea how an older woman's breasts were supposed to look. Mom was small and hardly ever wore a bra, and though Glenda's weren't large, they were more than I'd seen before.

The nightie stopped about knee height and was transparent enough that I could see the outline of her dark green panties. Which in and of itself surprised me, I figured they'd be what mom called baggy granny panties, but they weren't. They only went up to about her hips, I'd seen pictures of women in hip hugger panties, but never in person.

When I came out the lights were out, I slid between the sheets thinking she was sound asleep, as I got adjusted under the cover's I heard her.

"Goodnight Eli. Sleep well."

I uttered a simple, "goodnight" and then asked. "What did you mean you were never my mother's mom?"

She sighed, "It's a long story so I'll give you the short version. Your maternal grandmother and I were the best of friends. She wasn't married and didn't do well during the pregnancy. Somehow, she seemed to know what would happen because she made me promise that I would raise her baby if she died. Of course my husband and I poopooed it away. She died in childbirth, and I found myself raising a baby. It was my Mom, sister and my husband who helped care for Sheryl so I could finish med school. Life was good until she became a teen, that's when the wheels fell off the cart and the rest is history. Now stop asking questions and go to sleep."

Satisfied with what she told me I went to sleep instantly. I woke once in the night when I heard her flush the toilet, then I remembered reading that older people tended to urinate more often. When light began to filter around the curtains, I noticed she was already dressed sitting at the table writing something in a notebook. She looked up, nodded toward the bathroom and spoke.

"I'll go get some coffee, you get ready. Do you drink coffee don't you?" She asked.

I answered while nodding, "Sometimes, black please."

She snickered, "Just like my ex, he liked um hot and black. Ran off with his hot, black, sexretary about ten years ago. Which was okay with me, he'd outlived his usefulness, it was time for him to go."

Her answer puzzled me. He'd outlived his usefulness, what the heck was that supposed to mean? By the time I'd shaved what little stubble I had, taken care of my daily constitutional and dressed she was back with not only coffee, but a box of donuts. Setting everything on the table she looked at me.

"Hope you aren't one of those health nut people. I seldom eat donuts for breakfast, or any other time for that matter, but somehow, they seemed like the right choice today. The lady at the desk said the little place she was sending me was the best bakery around, and they look good enough to believe her. C-mon, let's head out, we can eat in the truck."

In the truck we ate donuts and slurped our not so good coffee, we were about a half hour from where we'd left when she took an off ramp and went right. I gave her a quizzical look.

"Going to Mickey D's, at least their coffee doesn't suck like this trash from the motel. Other than the oatmeal I won't eat anything else they serve, but the coffee isn't half bad in a pinch."