tagIncest/TabooGrandma and Jack: The Whole Story

Grandma and Jack: The Whole Story


Attention readers...

The first part of this story, barely more than half a literotica page, was published here as an incest story. The rest of the story describes what happened to get her to that place.

The rest of the story has virtually nothing to do with incest, so if that topic offends you please scan down to the next row of *** where the traditionally raunchy tale starts.

Please note that the story is written so that the events are told in reverse chronological order. If you saw the movie Memento, it's like that. The end is at the beginning and the start is at the end as Joan reflects back on her recent past.

I would appreciate any and all reader comments about the style and the story, because if readers find it confusing I can easily change it to a most traditional form. Just an experiment here, and I hope you like it.

Thanks to all my very loyal readers.


When that bottle is gone, thought Joan Arnold as she stood by the side of the bed in the guest room of her home, I'll not buy another. This time, she vowed, I mean it.

It was all because of that - actually - it wasn't because of the bottle of Jack Daniels that she bought. It was because of the half empty bottle that she had found tucked away in the back of the cupboard, left there by her husband, now 3 years passed, and although she had known it was there, she had never touched it.

One night she was bored - more bored than usual - and decided to take a little sip of it. It wasn't like she hadn't even had alcohol before, because back in the day she used to go out with her husband and drink them up just like he did, but that was long ago.

Drinking alone? That sounded like something a drunk would do, and when she couldn't get the bottle opened at first she realized that she just should have thrown it away, but she didn't. After pouring warm water around the cap for a while she had managed to get it unstuck.

Her first drink in probably four years made her throat burn and her head spin, Joan recalled, and she had gone to bed right after it. The next night, the effect was not so much, and she soon found that it was easier to fall asleep after a drink.

This though - this was wrong. Standing by the side of the bed that your grandson is sleeping in, so sweet and innocent looking, looking down at him, is one thing. A grandmotherly thing. Looking at him with your nightgown pulled up to your waist while your hand is between your legs playing with yourself is quite another thing.

You're 62 years old, Joan Arnold, she scolded herself. Not some teenager with raging hormones, like Timmy there in bed. She had just come in to pull the sheet over her visiting grandson, noticing when she passed the open guest room door that the lad was partially uncovered, but instead she stood there and looked at him.

Timmy had changed so much recently, Joan mused at she looked at the son of her daughter sprawled across the bed. The sheet was down to his waist, and while Joan assumed that he was wearing something below the sheet, he had no shirt on.

Timmy was a slender lad, and laying there with his arms akimbo Joan could see his rib cage clearly even in the faint moonlight. Glancing up, she saw something new, a wisp of light brown hair under his arm.

"Gee Grandma," Joan recalled Timmy saying not long ago. "I wish I had hair under my arms like you and Dad do."

That day was so embarrassing, Joan recalled, because she was usually impeccably groomed, but after Herb had passed it didn't seem to matter any more. Now look at you, Timmy, Joan thought. All grown up.

Joan shook her head after she thought about it. Silly woman, she scolded herself. That conversation took place years and years ago, although the way time flew by she would have sworn it was last month. Timmy was a boy back then, and now he's a man, at least chronologically. Physically, at about 5'7" and 125 pounds he still looked like the boy who wanted to lick the spoon she used to stir the cookie batter.

Enough Joan, she thought to herself. Go back to the kitchen, have a nightcap and go to bed, and for heavens sake get your hand out from your sex.

But it feels so good, she reasoned as her eyes went down from Timmy's scrawny chest, past his rib cage to his belly button. Below the little indentation - was that hair? It was. A thin golden trail that led lower to...

Don't do it, she scolded herself as she reached over and took the edge of the sheet in her hand. Pull the sheet up, not down.

Just a peek, she reasoned. Curiosity killed the cat, but she wasn't going to do anything but take a peek, and so she gently lifted the fabric and lowered it.

The thin row of brown hairs became thicker and then became a bush, and below that was his manhood. Didn't look that much different that he had 18 years ago when she would help bathe him. A little larger and more wrinkled, and the testicles that hung down between his legs certainly had changed, but Timmy was nothing like his grandfather down there.

Oh my, Joan thought as she set the sheet down at Timmy's knees, her eyes still fixed on her grandson's privates. His penis was getting bigger, and fast. Joan looked up at Timmy, but his eyes were closed and his breathing steady.

Down below, the tiny tube was now anything but tiny, and within a minute his penis was erect and arched back onto his tummy, the vein riddled underside of his organ looking like the roots of a tree.

Joan's breath was chattering as her fingers rubbed her clitoris. Her mouth was dry, and she would give anything for a drink, but that would mean leaving Timmy's side and tearing her eyes away from his magnificent organ.

Had he experienced girls touching it? Did any of them put it in their mouths? Was he even interested in girls? Who knows these days, Joan mused? Was he a virgin? Had he put that penis, which had to be at least 6" long and seemed to be throbbing as it arched back to his tummy, inside a girl? Was it good for him, and her?

Just then, Joan looked up at Timmy's angelic face, with the cute dimples and the big brown eyes. Eyes that were wide open and looking right at her. His grandmother, standing by his bedside with her hand working feverishly inside of her.

"Omigod," Joan gasped. "Timmy - I'm sorry. I..."

"I'm not," Timmy answered softly, neither moving or making any effort to hide himself. "I wanted you to see me. Wanted you to see how much I've grown. Do you like what you see? Do you like my cock?"

"Yes," Joan heard herself say, and when Timmy said that it wasn't fair that she could see him but he couldn't see much of her, she mechanically lifted the nightgown over her head.

"Nice," Timmy was saying, and although she felt she looked every one of her 62 years her grandson's words sent a tingle down her spine, and when he told her to put her hand back between her legs and use the other one to play with her breasts, she did as he asked.

Those weren't the words Timmy used however, and although his language was coarse and unlike anything Joan had even heard come out of her grandson's mouth, they fit the vulgar situation she found herself in.

"Go back to fingering your cunt, Grandma," Timmy had said. "Man, I figured you had a hairy one but man, that's great. Squeeze your tits for me. Make those nipples hard."

So Joan did what he wanted. He frigged herself while first kneading her breast and then mauling it, pulling on the small orb which used to sit out so proudly but now drooped noticeably, and her nipples soon blossomed and throbbed.

"Oh yeah, Grandma," Timmy was saying, and then he reached down and took his cock in hand and pulled it upright, waving it in her direction.

"Been a long time since you sucked on one of these I'll bet, huh Gram?" Timmy was saying. "Still know how?"

Joan nodded, her eyes burning from the sweat that poured from her brow, but that was only half true because while she certainly knew how to give head, to her shame it hadn't been all that long since she had taken a man in her mouth. Not even a week had passed.

And now Joan was crawling onto the bed, and as she knelt beside her grandson and took his arching manhood in her hand she marvelled at his hardness, having forgotten how stiff they got when they were young.

"Holy shit Grandma!" Joan heard her grandson moan as her lips slid down nearly the entire length of this shaft. "That's so good!"

It was good, Joan had to admit, and this wasn't some random cock and wasn't some guy she had met on the Christian Seniors dating website, this was her own flesh and blood. It was a sin and it was evil and that made it all the better in a perverse way.

Joan was at his grandson's hip, still sucking away, while Timmy reached down and squeezed her drooping breast, kneading it roughly before sliding his hand under her arm. As his fingers slid over the wet flesh of her armpit she wondered whether Timmy was unhappy that she was smoothly shaved, but it was too late for that now.

Now Joan was on her back and Timmy was scrambling up between her spread legs, with his dripping erection in hand. His foreplay had consisted of a couple of his fingers wiggling inside her for a few seconds, but that was enough for both of them.

"Please honey," Joan whimpered, almost begging for mercy as Timmy brought himself to her opening. "It's been so very long, and you're so big! Please don't hurt me."

"I won't Grandma," Timmy promised, and Joan smiled, pleased at her performance.

In fact, it hadn't been very long as all, and while her grandson had a nice sized cock, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but Joan suspected it was something Timmy wanted to hear, as was her howl when his erect staff slid into her.

As her pussy clamped down around Timmy's cock, Joan figured that all his promises of being gentle would go right out the window, and she was right. Timmy started out nice and slow, but within seconds he was like a wild boar, snorting and thrusting hard into her.

It didn't last long, but long enough of Joan to cum, and cum hard, and as she cried out she felt her grandson's cock jump inside of her while his warm seed coated her insides.

"Oh Grandma, I love you so much," Timmy was saying while Joan apologized for taking advantage of her own grandson like that.

"I don't know what came over me," Joan said. "It's just that I'm so lonely, and when I saw you laying there all grown up and handsome, I..."

"It's okay Grandma," Timmy was saying. "I wasn't a virgin or anything. I mean, you weren't the first but you were the best. I love you so much. I want to do you all night."

"I suppose I can only go to hell once," Joan declared and Timmy nuzzled into her neck, and as he ground his soon to be hard again cock into her thigh, Joan thought about the last month and how much her life had changed.

Before she had reached this - the depths of her crumbling morality - there were steps she had taken down this road of depravity.


The step before...

"And I'm so ashamed of myself," Joan said tearfully as she held onto Father Logan's hand tightly. "I'm going to hell, aren't I Father?"

"I certainly can't judge others," the kindly priest had said. "For I am just as filled with sin as anyone else. We all have these things inside of us. It sounds like you were raped."

"No, I can't say that," Joan said. "I shouldn't have had that drink - I mean all those drinks."

"Perhaps you were drugged," Father Logan said.

"Maybe," Joan said, watching Father Logan as he walked over to the door of his office and after peeking outside, closed and locked it before returning to his parishioner.

"Why else would you go to that park like you did with those men?" Father Logan. "That's not somebody you ordinarily do, is it Joan? Going to a park late at night with strangers?"

"Heavens no!" Joan exclaimed. "I mean, I knew the one man before. We dated once, but the other man just showed up at the bar, and the next thing I knew..."

"How do you feel about what happened?" Father Logan asked. "Honestly."

"I was scared, and I hated the men while it - you know?"

"Of course," Father Logan replied. "That's only natural, but the way you described it to me so vividly, it was almost as if a part of you enjoyed it. Is that possibly right?"

"I can't explain it," Joan said tearfully. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have let them get me drunk and I shouldn't have gone to the park, but - yes. Forgive me. Part of me did enjoy it. I have been so lonely since Herb passed."

"It's alright my dear," Father Logan said. "We go back a long way here at the church. I remember how much you and Herb loved each other. You've always been a good parishioner and a solid citizen in the community."

"I've tried, Father," Joan sobbed. "Heaven knows I have, but things have changed since Herb passed, and sometimes when I'm alone, these thoughts go through my head. Wicked thoughts, and I know that..."

"It's alright, Joan," Father Logan assured her,, gently massaging her shoulder. "After all, you're still an attractive woman with needs like everyone else. How old are you? 50 or so?"

"Heavens no," Joan said. "I'm 62."

"Really? You don't look it. I can't believe you're 20 years older than I am," Father Logan exclaimed. "You're quite pretty and have such a trim figure."

"Oh. Thank you," Joan said.

"It's no wonder that these men found you attractive," Father Logan went on. "You said these men were in their 40's?"

"I think the man I didn't know was in his forties. Bernie, the man I knew from the dating service and had gone out with before, is 35. He told me on line he was 55 but lied because he thought I wouldn't meet him if I knew his real age."

"Something about the allure of an older woman excites men," Father Logan was saying. "And from what you said happened to you in the park that, it certainly seems as if they liked you a lot. Out in public like that, I mean I know the park was dark and deserted, but what if someone saw you? Someone from the parish?"

"I would have died right then and there," Joan admitted while putting her head on Father Logan's shoulder after he knelt next to her chair. "But then again, maybe that fear was what excited them so."

"And you as well?" Father Logan said as he rubbed her back. "The thrill of being caught while the men violated you excited not only them but you as well perhaps?

"I guess," Joan confessed.

"Did either of the men - I know you told me that you gave them oral sex," Father Logan asked. "And you let them put their penises in your vagina, right?

"Yes, I did."

"I was wondering," Father Logan continued. "Did either of them take you the other way?"

"Other way?" Joan asked, puzzled.

"I meant anally. Did they take you anally?"

"Heavens no! I've never even done that - not even with my late husband."

"And you said the second man, the man you didn't know, was a large man?" Father Logan asked.

"Yes," Joan said. "I didn't realize a man could be so - you know - well developed.

"Did this excite you?" Father Logan inquired. "Being taken by such a large man? Was that part of what excited you?"

"I guess maybe it was," Joan confessed. "You see my husband, rest his soul, was a wonderful lover but while he was well endowed he was nothing like that man. That man though, the second man, he was so large that I never..."

"Tell me Joan," Father Logan asked as he rose up to his feet. "Was that man built like this?"

"What are you doing, Father?" Joan asked as Father Logan unzipped his fly and reached into his trousers.

"It's alright, Joan."

"Father!" Joan gasped as she saw Father Logan had managed to extricate his penis from confinement, and it was becoming erect as he was waving it in her face.

"It's okay dear," Father Logan said as he ran his hand through Joan's silver hair. "It's just that your story, the incredible detail you went into, the telling excited me a great deal. You see, we're all weak in the flesh at times."

"Was he this big?" Father Logan repeated, moving closer to Joan with his huge uncut organ now inches from her face.

"Heavens no Father! Your penis - it's enormous. I can't..."

"Sure you can Joan," Father Logan declared as she brought Joan's face closer to him, and he smiled when she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. "Ah! That's it. Oh! That's nice. Take it deep."

Joan's mouth opened as wide as possible, jaws protesting as the bulbous knob of Father Logan's manhood pushed toward her throat, and she brought her hand up the thick shaft and stroked it as best she could even though her hand could not reach all the way around it.

"Get up dear," Father Logan said as he pulled the meaty monolith from his parishioner's mouth, and then he took a step over towards his desk and cleared it with one swipe of his hand, sending everything flying to the carpet.

"Are you mad Father?" Joan sniffled. "I'm sorry if I wasn't doing it well. You're so large..."

"I'm mad at myself, Joan," he snapped as he stepped out of his trousers and boxers, and then took Joan by the wrist and leaned her over the massive mahogany desk, mimicking the position she had been in back at the park.

"Father? What are you doing?" Joan asked as she felt her dress being yanked up and her panties practically torn off of her. "Please!"

"Just relax, Joan," Father Logan said as his one hand squeezed the pale, slightly jiggling buttocks before him while the other searched in the desk drawer. "I'm weak - as weak as you are - perhaps more so, but you look too good to me right now."

Father Logan squirted a glob of gel on his swaying member and spread it over the half of his manhood that he would be using before pointing the nozzle of the tube between Mrs. Arnold's ass cheeks and squirting it in.

"OH!" Joan squealed twice, once at the sensation of the cold goo against her bare bottom and then a second time, louder, as she felt the rough stubby finger penetrate her.

"Please don't, Father," Joan cried as she clutched the sides of the desk while the force of the finger practically lifted her feet off the floor, and then a second rough finger squeezed into her.

"You come in here and tell me these racy stories - all of you women - and you expect me to just sit and smile and hold your hands?" Father Logan spat.

"Not this though Father. I beg of you. Not my in my bottom! You're too big!"

"I don't want what you gave those slobs in the park - offering your cunt to them like a common whore," he snapped, grabbing a hand-full of Joan's silver hair and pulling her head backward. "I want what no one else has had. Now relax. You know you want it."

"I don't."

"Liar. Tell the truth, Joan. You want this just like you wanted those men in the park, don't you? Say it."

I - I want it..."

"What do you you want?" Father Logan sneered. "Tell me."

"I want you - want you to put your penis..."

"Tell me what you want - use the right words!"

"I want you to fuck me in the ass!" Joan cried out. "I want you to put that enormous cock of yours into... OMIGOD!!!"

Father Logan rammed the fat knob of his manhood into the tan ring hard, and after the ridge of the gland pierced Joan he forced a few more inches of his tool into her before sliding back out.

Joan stopped screaming after a few seconds, and then just rode the desk as the force of Father Logan's thrusts started inching the heavy furniture toward the door, a guttural grunt punctuating each push as he inched deeper and deeper into Joan.

The searing pain became duller, and then it stopped hurting and the sensation of her pussy grinding into the desk took off. The desk must have moved a foot by the time Joan came, and a second after her orgasm stopped she felt Father Logan pull his cock out of her rectum.

"Ooh!" Joan gasped when it popped out, but then she felt him slide back into her burning anus, having only extracted his cock to lubricate it some more.

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