Grandpa was "The Assman" Ch. 01byMisterReason©
What started out to be an innocent week-long visit by Cathy's recently widowed Grandpa became something a whole lot more.
How it began...
It was a faint tinny sound, but whatever it was, it was coming from upstairs and was driving 67 year old Theodore Patterson crazy. He had resisted the urge to get out of bed for as long as he could, but the combination of that metallic whining and his weak bladder had forced him into action.
First to the bathroom, where he was able to tap his insistent kidneys, and then up the stairs to the attic, which was the source of the noise that seemed to be designed at driving him crazy.
Funny how his hearing hadn't gotten worse over the years, since it seemed like everything else had, Ted thought as his legs protested the nocturnal wanderings that had become a part of his nightly rituals these days. The ears could detect the sound of a mouse peeing on cotton, his late wife Emma had always claimed.
After climbing the half-dozen stairs to the loft, Ted discovered the source of the noise that had caught his ear, but when he got to the end of the short hallway and peeked inside, everything he knew was forever altered.
Chapter One: Nosy old bastard.
The door was ajar when I got there. It was a little room in a pretty much unused portion of the cavernous house our son and his wife called home, but I didn't know then that my granddaughter Cathy had turned it into something like a den of her own. Pictures of rock stars and actors on the walls, and a bed and a stereo made it a neat little getaway for a kid to escape to.
If I had known, I never would have gone up there, but being the nosy old bastard that I am, there I was snooping around. If there was little excuse for me wandering around like that, after I peeked in the door there was absolutely no reason for me to have not turned around and gone back to bed. But I didn't.
It was a private moment that Cathy was having, but I couldn't turn away. Never in my life had I entertained any disgusting thoughts about my favorite granddaughter, I swear. She had always been my pride and joy and I would never have done a thing to harm her.
Then why didn't I leave when I saw her on her hands and knees on the bed, with her backside facing the doorway, where I was leering like a pervert at my granddaughter who was pleasuring herself while looking at a magazine with headphones on and music blasting?
Suddenly I realized that the little butterball with the skinned knees and snapping bubblegum was long gone and Cathy had become a woman. She had just turned 18 not long ago, was going to college in the fall, and the signs of her maturity were right there for me to see.
Cathy was wearing a night shirt, but her panties were in a tangle at the foot of the bed. She had some kind of device inside of herself, and was grinding and wiggling while pretending to talk to the guy whose picture she was staring at.
Go away, I told myself, but seeing the bare posterior of a woman was too much temptation for me, and besides, the only naked ass I had seen for ages belonged to my wife of 40 years, and her butt in her later years didn't compare with what I was looking at. Maybe it never did.
Cathy had been a little chubby when she was young, but had lost most of that excess weight as she had developed. Her rear end was still a little fleshy, but that was alright in my book. I enjoy women with a bit of meat on their bones, and Cathy had the cushion in the right places as far as I was concerned.
Somehow I found myself inside the room, having moved a couple of feet without realizing it. It was like I was a moth attracted to a flame, so powerful was the attraction of those creamy round buttocks of my precious granddaughter, and I can only imagine what I must have looked like standing there. A wrinkled old fart in pajamas and slippers gawking like he was at a strip club or something surely can't be erotic.
Cathy noticed me eventually, of course. Maybe I wanted her to see me there, because there was no other logical explanation to me having moved that close to her. I could see perfectly fine from where I was. My eyes were still okay. Hell, I could even make out the little circle of hairs around her anus from where I had been standing.
So she saw me, and was as shocked and mortified as one would expect, her yelp of surprise coinciding with her headphones flying off and her trying to hide under the sheet while I hemmed and hawed.
"I'm sorry - so sorry honey," I stammered while poor blushing Cathy hyperventilated on the bed. "I didn't know."
Didn't know? Of course I knew. Maybe I didn't know she what she was doing at first, but I sure as hell did know what was going on long before she turned and saw dear old Grandpa behind her drooling with half a hard-on.
The ivory toned dildo was sitting there on the bed, still glistening with Cathy's juices, and I picked up the magazine that had ended up on the floor. "The Jonas Brothers Forever" was the title of the magazine, and the clean cut and wholesome looking guys on the cover seemed harmless enough.
"This uh - here," I mumbled, setting the magazine on the bed next to Cathy's toy and trying to think of something that wouldn't sound stupid. "I didn't know. I heard sounds coming from up here."
Indeed, the music was still blasting out of the little ear-buds that were strung over the pillow.
"The music. Is that, uh The Jonas Boys?" I said lamely, pointing at the headset.
"Jonas Brothers," Cathy said softly, clicking off her music. "They're corny to me now, but they're like a guilty pleasure from when I was a kid."
"Which one is Joey?" I said like an idiot.
"How did?" Cathy said, and then blushed even more when she figured out how I knew the name of one of them. "Oh. The one on the right. The really hot one."
"Oh," I said, and nodded even though none of them looked hot or even remotely warm to me. "Look, I feel so rotten about this."
"My bad," Cathy said. "I should have closed the door. Mom and Dad never come up here. It's kinda like my little world."
"I should have known better," I apologized. "I don't sleep that well these days."
"You miss Grandma?" Cathy asked, relaxing her grip on the sheet she held up to her neck a little, and when I nodded I felt my tears well up in my eyes.
"The door," I admitted. "It wasn't open very wide when I came up. It was ajar, but I pushed it open. Think I did. Don't really remember."
"Oh," Cathy said.
"Kinda disgusting, aren't I?" I suggested.
Chapter Two: What about me?
"You?" Cathy said. "What about me? I can't imagine what you must have thought when you saw me - like that."
"Kinda shocked," I confessed. "Not about what you were doing though. Heck, if I had a buck for every time I pleasured myself with a magazine or a movie..."
"You?" Cathy giggled. "I can't imagine that!"
"Heck, it's probably how I got Carpal Tunnel," I said. "It's a natural thing to do. Safer than most things, I figure. Except when somebody intrudes like this."
"It's alright," Cathy said.
"Just a shock seeing my little buttercup like this now," I admitted. "You've become such a beautiful, well developed woman."
"Don't know about that," Cathy said. "I'm small on top."
"Not on the bottom," I heard somebody say. Could that have been me?
"That's for sure," Cathy giggled. "Me and my fat ass!"
"I didn't mean it like that," I quickly added. "Your... butt is perfect. I always had a preference for gals with a little, you know? Should we be talking like this?" I added.
"Not with the door open," Cathy answered. "Voices carry."
With that, Cathy climbed out from under the sheet and walked over to the door and closed it, clicking the lock before turning around and leaning back against the door.
"There," Cathy said, biting her lip and looking so adorable that if I wasn't about to faint I would have told her just that.
"You okay, Grandpa?" Cathy said, rushing over to me as I eased myself down into the chair beside the bed.
"Fine honey," I said, gesturing that I was okay even though my head was still spinning a bit.
The cause of my spell was right in front of me now. Cathy's top only went down to her belly button, exposing the tiny swell of her tummy as well as everything below that.
"You're so beautiful," I said, staring at the surprisingly sparse wisp of hair Cathy had between her legs.
The hair was a light golden brown in color, just like her scalp, and the growth was so faint that I could clearly see her very prominent labia through the down.
Cathy realized where I was staring, but after an initial reaction to attempt to cover herself, just stood there and let me look for a minute before sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Don't hear that word much," Cathy said. "Nice to hear, even if you are prejudiced 'cause you're my Grandpa."
"Do you shave your - you know, down there?" I asked, stuttering like a schoolboy.
"My pussy?" Cathy asked. "No. I don't have much hair down there though, do I?"
"Looks very nice," I assured her, shivering from her using the word that I couldn't bring myself to use. "I was just wondering. I know these days that a lot of girls get rid of it."
"Most guys like a smooth pussy," Cathy said.
"Not me," I blurted out.
"Cool," Cathy said.
"Look, why don't I leave you alone so you can - you know?"
"Finish doing myself?" Cathy said, giggling as she picked up the dildo and waved it around, finally pointing it at me and jabbing it towards me. "Ole! Not scared of it, are you Grandpa?"
For some reason, I reached over and grabbed it, surprising Cathy as much as it did myself, and as I held it up and inhaled, savoring the aroma of the rubbery device while resisting the urge to taste it.
"Nothing to be scared of," I said as I handed it back to Cathy, before opening my mouth again. "I've got a toy of my own."
Chapter Three: Toy talk.
"Yeah," I sheepishly admitted. "Got it after Grandma passed."
"Tell me about it!" Cathy insisted. "This is so awesome!"
"It's just a tubular thing," I said. "You sure you want to hear about this?"
"Most definitely," Cathy said, and as if to make it clear that she was serious, folded her legs up under her and brought the dildo down between her legs, running it up and down her labia. "Does this bother you? Me doing this?"
"No," I said, my hands visibly shaking as I stared.
"Tell me about your toy."
"It's a plastic tube with a rubber sleeve, and you lubricate..."
"You mean that YOU lubricate?" Cathy corrected me.
"Yes. I lubricate the sleeve and then - you know - myself."
"Lubricate what?" Cathy said, her breathing starting to increase. "Tell me everything."
"My cock," I said, and when I said that word Cathy writhed and she moved the dildo inside of her pussy deeper.
"Does your cock have to be hard to do that?"
"It helps," I said. "But that's why I got the thing. To get an erection."
"They have medicine," Cathy said.
"Seems kind of foolish for me to take drugs just to masturbate," I explained. "It takes me forever to get an erection with my hand, so I just stuff myself - my cock - into the sleeve and pump away with the handle to create the vacuum until I get hard."
"Does it make you cum?" Cathy said breathlessly.
"I'd love to watch you do that," Cathy said, her brown eyes looking glazed as she worked the dildo inside of her.
I almost told her that it was downstairs in my suitcase, but didn't. That would be so wrong, I thought. Stupid thought. There I was staring at my granddaughter's pussy and worrying about the moral depravity of showing her my Ejaculator 3000.
"You want to watch me again, Grandpa?" Cathy asked, and when I nodded open-mouthed she grabbed her shirt and pulled it over her head.
"See how small my titties are?" Cathy asked while cupping the adorable globes in her palms while the dildo rested inside of her for a second.
"They're perfect," I said breathlessly, admiring the apple-sized breasts that had delightful half dollar sized aureoles with pea shaped nipples.
Cathy rolled over onto her back and put her right arm behind her head while working the dildo with her left. My eyes scanned her soft body from head to toe. Her skin was so creamy white and flawless, and her facial expression was so sweet and innocent looking that I felt my heart almost break from her beauty.
She was perspiring freely now, and her underarm sparkled with sweat. The moisture made the tiny strip of stubble - peach fuzz is a better description of it - in her center of her armpit shine, and it was all I could do to keep from jumping over onto the bed and licking her dry. I was breathing heavily, sounding like a locomotive in the quiet of Cathy's sanctuary. The ear-buds had gone silent, and my wheezing and the soft sloshing of the dildo were the only noises in the room.
"The other way," I gasped, and when Cathy looked quizzically at me I explained. "Please. On your knees, like you were before."
Cathy nodded and rolled herself over onto her knees like I had asked, working the fake cock in and out while thrusting her butt as high in the air as she could.
"Like this, Grandpa?" Cathy said in a voice muffled by the bedding in her face.
"Perfect," I practically sobbed. "Your ass is so incredible."
I found myself rising slowly as I looked at Cathy's lush round buttocks and the fine hairs that peeked out from around the dildo that was moving faster and faster in her pussy.
"Forgive me," I whispered in a voice so soft that Cathy could not have heard, but I'm not sure who I was asking forgiveness of.
All I knew was that I was climbing on the bed behind my granddaughter. She made a startled movement when she felt the bed move while I crawled over to her, but did not protest when I put my hands on those full but firm ass cheeks.
Neither did she flinch when I kneaded those beautiful globes in my hands; bony and weathered hands that usually hurt, but if they were still aching, the discomfort went unnoticed by me as I reveled in the joy of her young and tender flesh.
And after I could restrain myself no more and parted those ass cheeks, exposing once again her sweet puckered orifice to my eyes, she only whimpered louder. The tiny ring, a brownish pink amidst a sea of ghostly wide, was irresistible to me.
My head lowered, and I buried my face into the crevice. My tongue licked the circle of hairs around her balloon knot, flattening the sparse fur against her skin just before I began jabbing at, and then right into her sensitive orifice.
Cathy was working the dildo in and out of herself with a speed and viciousness that was startling, and the force of her thrusts sent wave after wave of the pungent aroma of her pussy back up into my face.
Cathy was crying out into the bedding, her muffled squeals punctuated by chants of, "OMIGOD OMIGOD OMIGOD!" as she neared climax, and while she came, I held onto her ass for dear life, my fingers digging deep into her soft flesh while my long tongue dipped into her ass as far as I could manage.
Cathy's knees finally gave out as her orgasm waned, but I rode down to the bedding with her, still licking at her anus while her body convulsed a few final times before going limp.
Even though the room was cool, Cathy was drenched with sweat, and I realized that my pajamas were soaked as well. I let my hand slide over Cathy's moist back, caressing her neck while leaning up over her.
"I love you, my little buttercup," I whispered before kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you so much."
"I love you too, Grandpa," Cathy said softly, her hand reaching up - was it for the bulge in my pajamas, I wondered - but I was not ready for that so I rolled away and off the bed.
"Tomorrow night?" Cathy asked when I got to the door, and I tried to hide my erection as I opened it. "Okay?"
I nodded, smiling and closing the door before getting back down the stairs as fast as I could manage. Getting safely behind my bedroom door, I fumbled for my pump for a second before realizing that it would be a waste of time, and grabbed a sock from my laundry bag.
It took less than a half dozen strokes for me to cum, and after I had popped my load into the cotton I pulled the sock off of my cock, which had deflated rapidly and now hung down in its usual limp state.
"You are one sick fucker," I said to the pervert in the mirror who stood there like an idiot in the middle of the guest room of his son's house, his dick drooling onto the carpet.
I was never much for the whole heaven and hell concept, and I never wanted to be correct about that more than at that particular moment, because the thought of Emma having witnessed any of what had just transpired would be too much for me to take.
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