My life was not turning out as I expected, at all. I was eighteen, just graduated from high school and looking forward to going off to college, making friends, getting drunk on weekends and picking up girls--women, I reminded myself, they're women now, even if most of them were as young and stupid as myself. I'd gotten good grades and gotten accepted at the school I really wanted to go to, a state college not too far from the small town that I grew up in, a school with a reputation both for good academics and good times. My parents told me that they'd be able to pay my way through, although I should probably look at getting a part-time job for "fun money"--i.e. beer and condoms. I thought I was pretty much set.
Then, about mid-summer, they told me that my college savings fund hadn't done too well when the dot-com bubble collapsed, and they hadn't been able to make up the losses. Seeing the crestfallen expression on my face, they tried to reassure me that they had a back-up plan, but my heart sank even further when they told me of their new plan--that I would live with my grandmother, who had a small house in the college town. Everyone else would be living in the dorms, sneaking six-packs and bottles of vodka into their rooms and talking giggly freshman women into having sex in the showers at 4 AM, and I'd be hanging with Grandma, trying to sneak in late on the weekends after parties and having her waiting up for me, no doubt, in a flowered housecoat with her hair in curlers, listening impatiently to my excuses before laying down the law. It was not an exciting prospect.
I didn't even know my grandmother that well. She'd married when she was eighteen, to a man much older than her, and had my mother almost immediately afterward. My mom had gotten pregnant and married at eighteen as well, mostly to get away from her father, who was from a previous generation and was not a particularly loving person. Unlike my dad's parents, who were pretty much standard-issue grandparents, we didn't see my maternal grandparents very often. In fact, I could probably count the number of times I actually saw them during my childhood on one hand, and I don't remember seeing them at all during my adolescence, probably because my grandfather was ill and my grandmother was busy tending to him. He died when I was seventeen and away at camp, so I didn't even see my grandma at the funeral. I wasn't even that sure what she looked like anymore, only that she was about fifty-five.
At any rate, I put off moving to her house until two days before classes started. I didn't take a lot with me, and it all fit into the back seat and trunk of the old beater car that I'd bought with my summer job savings. For some reason, I was very nervous as I pulled into my grandma's driveway. Would she expect me to be her friend and join her old biddy friends in bridge games? Would she be some sort of weird widow lady who treated her cats better than people? Would I be better off living in a van down by the river?
I was a little shocked when she opened the door. In the back of my mind, I was still expecting someone a little more matronly, but the woman who greeted me looked like a woman fifteen years younger, or more, who'd dyed her hair grey. Only the slight crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, and the backs of her hands, betrayed her true age. She was on the slim side, but still had the same curves that my mother did. In fact, except for the grey hair, I could have been looking at my mother's somewhat older sister. She was wearing a polo shirt and white shorts that showed off her tanned legs well, and a big smile.
"John!" she exclaimed, and immediately hugged me. I could feel her surprisingly firm breasts pressing into my chest. She let me go and held me at arm's length. "Well, look at you!" She looked me up and down, and gave me a delighted smile. "Why, you're all grown up, aren't you?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so." I shrugged. "It's, uh, been a while, I guess."
"Sure has!" she laughed. "Well, how about we get you settled in?"
Her house was much better than I'd feared--I thought that she might have had an old lady's house, all chintz and potpourri and embarrassing pictures of me from grade school, but it was decorated in an understated and relatively sophisticated manner, very light and airy so that it seemed larger on the inside than it did on the outside. There were only two bedrooms and one bathroom, and the bedroom doors were almost directly across a short hall from each other, so I could see that there probably wasn't much of a chance of sneaking a girlfriend in late at night. This might be alright for a year at the most--it was definintely cleaner and in better shape than the dorm I'd seen on my summer campus tour--but I wanted to start making alternative plans right away, maybe even talk to the financial aid people next week.
By the time I' d moved my stuff in it was dinnertime, and we spent most of the meal catching up on family news. After dessert, she pushed her plate aside and took my hand. I was a little surprised--my family weren't the hand-holding type. "Now, before you get all busy with classes and such, we should talk about something," she said. "Sex."
My jaw fell open and I almost withdrew my hand, but she held on firmly. "It's OK; I just want us to have a clear understanding, here," she said. "You're a good-looking young man, and I'm not exactly out of the game myself, so there's a strong likelihood that one or the other of us will have a partner over some night. It's a small house, so we really can't be sneaking around anyway, right?"
I nodded dumbly. She definitely was nothing like my other grandmother.
She continued, "Now, if it gets to where one or the other of us has someone over most or all of the week, it might get a little too close for comfort, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I just want you to know that I accept that you have a sex life and hope that you can accept mine."
I almost laughed; she was flattering me that I had a sex life to speak of. I'd done it a couple of times, with the same girls that put out for everyone, but the truth was that I didn't date that much--I didn't go in for all the game playing. I supposed that what I really wanted was someone who knew what she wanted and wasn't afraid to go for it. That didn't leave me with too many choices, frankly. I was hoping that things would be different in college, but part of me knew that things probably wouldn't be that different, at least at first. I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "OK, sure."
She smiled and let go of my hand, although I thought that her middle finger briefly stroked the palm of my hand as she took her hand away. "I'm sure that we'll get along just fine." She stood up, and this time I noticed how trim her waist was, and that her stomach was relatively flat; her shorts weren't that tight, but I could still see that she had that gentle curve that some women have between their navel and pubis... I looked away, hoping that she hadn't seen where I was looking. I stood up and volunteered to clean up the dishes. She laughed and ruffled my hair; "Yup--we'll get along just fine," she repeated. As she left, I checked out her backside, swaying gently to and fro; she definitely had a younger woman's ass.
As I washed the dishes and put them in the rack, I tried not to think of my grandmother naked, and failed. She obviously kept herself in good shape, and probably had any number of well-tanned, golf-playing professional types that wanted to spend the night. I wondered if she was the kind of lover who was loud, who liked to moan and talk dirty during sex and scream when she came. I could imagine her with a hard cock in her mouth, or on her back with her legs spread wide while her partner grunted and drove himself into her pink wetness... I realized that I was starting to get an erection, and deliberately thought about buyng textbooks and picking up my class schedule until it went down again. I was realizing that I probably would be uncomfortable in my grandma's house, but for entirely different reasons than what I'd originally thought.
She invited me to watch TV with her, but I begged off, talking about unpacking and being tired after the drive over. I puttered around my room, putting things away and listening for my grandma. Finally, I heard her close the door to the bathroom, then several minutes later the toilet flushed; shortly thereafter, the bathroom door opened, but I didn't hear her bedroom door shut. Finally, I peeked out of my bedroom; the house was dark, but my grandma's bedroom door was cracked open a couple of inches, and I could see a faint, flickering yellow light inside, as if she'd lit a candle. I crept to the bathroom and was as quiet as I could be, although there's really no quiet way to flush the toilet. As I washed my hands, I considered the open door. I assumed that if she had a lover over, she'd shut the door. I planned on having my door shut every night.
As I left the bathroom and started towards my own room, I heard what sounded like a sigh coming from my grandmother's room. I stood there for a few seconds until curiousity got the better of me and cautiously peered through the crack in the door. I couldn't see the candle, which meant that I wasn't in the direct light and probably wasn't visible to her. I could see her bed clearly, though. My grandmother lay on the bed in a thin, short summer nightgown, the covers bunched around the foot of the bed. She was looking up at the ceiling with her left hand behind her head, rubbing her lower belly while she slowly rubbed her thighs together. Finally, she sighed again, closed her eyes, and raised the hem of her gown above her waist while she spread her legs apart.
Even in the candlelight, I could see her pussy clearly. Her pubic hair was dense, although neatly trimmed along the sides, and darker than the hair on her head. As her legs separated, I could first see moisture gleaming in the center, then a little bit of pink. At first she stroked her inner thigh just shy of her pubic hair, then she covered her pussy with her hand and started a slow massage in a circular motion. As she rubbed herself, I could see her middle finger slowly sink inwards until it was clearly in between her pussy lips. In the meantime, she brought her left hand down and was caressing her left breast through her nightgown; I could see the nipple of her right breast clearly erect through the thin cloth. She did this for a minute or so, as her breathing came faster and I suppressed my own as best I could. Then, she stopped suddenly, and sat up. I thought for a panicked second that she had seen or heard me, but instead she pulled her nightgown over her head, then lay back down.
My previous speculation had been correct: she did, indeed, have the body of a younger woman. Her body was gently rounded, and her breasts were small but firm, with nice dark areolae and gum-drop nipples. I noticed that she had tan-lines on the bottom but not on the top; now I understood why there was a new, eight-foot-high fence around the back yard. She lay back down with her left hand cuppng her breast and the thumb stroking her nipple as her right hand went back down to her crotch. She inserted her middle and ring finger deep into her cunt and withdrew them glistening wet, then rubbed then along either side of her large and erect clit. She did this a few more times, then started massaging her clit round and round, moving her left hand over to her other breast and strumming the nipple rapidly. I could hear her panting rapidly now. I was wearing gym shorts, and my cock was tenting the front of the shorts out with a blue-steel boner. She let go of her breast and started finger-fucking herself with her left hand as she worked her clit. Her hips started to bounce off the bed and she started moaning, "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah... fuck, fuck, oh yeah, fuck..." Her movements sped up and suddenly she raised her hips all the way off the bed and cried out--her pelvis quivered and I could see her cunt clearly, the little glistening head of her clit peeking out between her fingers, and the fingers of the other hand plunged between her wet labia--she stayed like that for several breathless seconds, and then she let out her breath and her hips crashed back down on the bed. The spell was broken and I quickly withdrew so that I couldn't see her, wondering if she'd caught a glimpse of me anyway in the throes of passion. I was starting to back slowly toward my bedroom door when I heard another noise from her bedroom. My heart froze; I thought that she was coming out, and I moved more quickly, sure that she'd see my door close and figure out what I'd been doing. I turned to close my door, then hesitated; if she'd been coming toward her door, she should have blocked the candlelight by now. Slowly, I went back to her door. Very cautiously, I peered into her room again.
She was still nude, still on her bed, but was rummaging around in a shoe box, of all things. Then she lifted a dildo out of the box, kissed it on the head, and laid it to the side. She retrieved a second, smaller dildo and laid that aside as well, and put the shoebox under her bed. My breath quickened again; this show had a second act. She lay back and spread her legs, and picked up the larger dildo. She kissed it on the head again, then gently sucked the head into her mouth. It was just as I had imagined when I was doing the dishes, only she was even better than I had pictured her--she took it out and slowly licked around the head, kissed the shaft all the way down to the base and back, and licked all along the underside, just as if she were pleasuring a real man. Then she took the head back into her mouth and started moving it in and out, slowly feeding more and more into her mouth until she was taking it all the way down to the base and back again. She took it out and rubbed the head around her lips, then moved it down and rubbed the shaft between her breasts. I had a sudden vision of the cock--a real cock--spurting come and giving her a pearl necklace. She trailed the cock down her stomach, slowly stroked the head inbetween her pussy lips several times until her hips started rocking again, and then thrust it into her still-wet cunt.
She immediately started that liquid grunting sound that women make when they're being fucked deep, hard, and good--that sound that sounds almost too deep for a woman to make. In between the grunts she started talking again: "fuck me, fuck me, yeah, do it, fuck that big hard cock right into me, fuck me you bastard, aw yeah, oh fuck..." This was the woman who had married an older man who was an invalid the last five years of his life? How long had he been able to satisfy her like this? How many years had she had to resort to the dildo, or had she had lovers while he lay in the other bedroom, dead to the world?
My own cock was throbbing while I watched Grandma fuck herself hard. Then she stopped, and again I felt a brief spike of fear, but she was only changing position; she rolled over and got on her knees, then pressed her shoulders down on the bed so that her ass was up in the air, her slightly spread legs forming a triangle with her glistening cunt at the apex. She rested her head on one arm while she picked up the dildo again and, reaching up between her legs, reinserted it in her pussy and started fucking herself doggy style. She soon picked up the rhythm again, moaning "Oh, fuck" into the pillow while the latex cock pistoned in and out of her juicy pussy. Then, not missing a stroke, she reached over for the smaller dildo and started to suck on it as she continued to fuck herself. I was growing more astonished by the second. Not only did my grandmother like to masturbate, she liked to pretend that she was getting it in both ends at once. She wasn't finished surprising me, though.
She took the small dildo out of her mouth and started murmuring, "Where do yo want to put that cock, honey? Where do yo want to put that nice, hard cock? Do you want to put it in my ass? Huh? Is that where you'd like that cock to go? Do you want to stick it in my little pink asshole? Do you want to buttfuck Grandma, is that it, do you want to fuck your Granny in the ass?" My heart lept--she wasn't thinking about some anonymous lover, she was fantasizing about me. Grandma took the larger dildo out of her pussy and picked up the smaller one, shining with her saliva, and moved it in and out of her pussy a few times, coating it with the slipperier cunt juices, then brought it to her puckered asshole. She breathed heavily a few times, then slowly began to insert the flanged head of the rubber cock into her ass. She grunted and moaned, "Slowly, Johnny, you've got such a big cock, Grandma wants it but she has to take it slow..." Gradually, she eased the entire shaft of the dildo into her ass, and pumped it slowly, the ring of her anus clinging to it as she withdrew it. She fucked herself in the ass for a couple of minutes, then lowered her hips and put a pillow under them so that her ass was propped up and she no longer needed to support herself. She reached for the other dildo and reinserted it in her cunt, then reached underneath her so that she could grasp the big dildo in that hand and reach with the other hand over her back, and started to double-fuck herself, both dildos sliding in and out of her in rhythm. She picked up speed and started saying clearly, "Yeah, Johnny, fuck Grandma in the ass, fuck me in the ass, Johnny, do it, do it, shoot your cum deep in my ass, I want to feel it, do it do it do it---" Then she cried out and slammed her hips down into the pillow in short, sharp jerks. She trembled all over for a few seconds, then was still, breathing heavily. After a while, she slowly withdrew the dildos from her cunt and ass, wrapping them up in a small towel next to her bed, and laying them aside, probably for washing in the morning. As she reached for the candle, I thought for an instant that she was looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I quickly withdrew and quietly eased back into my bedroom, very slowly closing the door and locking it. In the silence, the lock sounded like a gunshot, but there wasn't a lot I could do about that.
I lay on my bed and thought about what I had just seen and heard. This was only the first night I had been here, and already I had seen my grandmother masturbate while calling my name. Maybe I should start looking into other housing options right away, even though I didn't know how I could afford it. Maybe my grandma had seen or heard me outside her door, and I wouldn't have the chance to find another place to sleep. I'd never slept in my car, but thought I might be finding out pretty soon what it was like.
It didn't help matters much that I still had a diamond-cutter hardon. Finally, I decided to get it over with, and pulled my shorts down. My cock felt good in my hand, almost aching with sexual tension. Although I tried to think of old fantasies, pictures from porn magazines, and former lovers, my grandma kept coming back into my mind. Finally, I just gave up and thought of her fucking herself in both holes from behind, begging me to buttfuck her, and felt a heady mixture of shame and pure lust. When I came I came so hard that I actually hit myself in the chin with the first spurt, and spent several minutes sponging up the semen with tissues.
When I woke up the next morning, I had a massive piss hardon. I looked around my stuff for a bathrobe, then realized I hadn't packed it and decided to just make a run for the bathroom in my shorts. Right as I came out of the bedroom, my grandma walked by, wearing a hosuecoat. Before I could beat a retreat or scurry into the bathroom, she beamed a big smile at me and chirped, "Good morning!", and much to my mortification, gave me a full-body hug. I could feel the tip of my cock press into her stomach, but she didn't seem to notice. She let me go and said, "Breakfast is almost ready; do you think you'll want to, ah--" she looked down at the lump in my shorts, then back up at my face, eyebrows raised, "--take a shower first?"