Granny FannybyCal Y. Pygia©
I'd never have thought I'd fall in love with Jenna's mother Claudia, who's forty two, so you can imagine my surprise--or shock--when I found I'd fallen in love with Jenna's sixty-four year old grandmother Pamela!
Don't get me wrong; she's well-preserved for her age. Her tits have sagged a little over the five decades or so that she's owned them, but, hey, gravity will do that to a girl, sooner or later, and it's not like they hang to her knees. The bottoms of her breasts, which are actually about hand-size, come to just above the crook of her elbow, so her boobs are still sort of sexy. They're softer, too, than a younger woman's breasts, kind of like pillows.
She may be a little chunky around the middle, but that's just more of her to love, right? Her hips are wide, and her ass is broad and flatter than I like, and a little more solid, or dense, than either Jenna's or Claudia's. She has some cellulite, too, and a few stretch marks, and her skin has a pimply appearance in places, among the wrinkles. Overall, her face is still fairly attractive, even pretty, although her eye shadow is a bit too dark and her fiery lipstick is way too bright.
What she lacks in beauty (which, really, isn't all that much, considering her age), Pamela more than makes up in kindness and in experience. There's nothing she hasn't done and nothing she won't do again.
Her worst feature is her crotch or, more specifically, her cunt. Although we often use flower metaphors to describe nubile young women's pussies, speaking (or writing) of labia as soft as rose petals and budding clitorises, these images, when they refer to an older, or more "mature," woman, ring even more hollow than they do with regard to the slits of much younger sluts.
Pamela, unfortunately, is no exception. Her cunt is ugly; the lips are large, loose, and wrinkled, looking more like a fig or a prune than a rose. Her twat was also as hairy as Sasquatch's underarm, until I convinced her to shave down there. It looks a little better as a naked clam, but, to be honest (sorry, honey!), it's still more repulsive than it is ravishing.
I get around the problem of her unsightly genitals, as often as possible, by fucking her up the ass rather than in the cunt. I'm an ass man, anyway, and I prefer anal to vaginal intercourse even with much younger women, and, as I said, there's nothing Pamela hasn't done and nothing she won't do again. . . and again. So, despite her ugly twat, I'm happy to have her as my girlfriend. Her granny fanny is her saving grace, even more than her still-pretty face.
Neither Jenna nor Claudia know I'm fucking Pamela, of course; our thing is our secret. "It's nobody's business," Pamela says, "but our own." I couldn't agree with her more: who wants the world to know, at twenty five, a guy's fucking someone well over twice his own age? Not me, that's for sure.
I work at one of the local hotel-casinos here in Las Vegas, so my schedule changes frequently, although I work a lot of nights, which, since Jenna and Claudia both have day jobs, gives Pamela and me a lot of time together, which is a good thing, because the old girl goes to bed about nine o'clock every night.
Anyway, like I said, I never would have thought I'd fall in love with Jenna's mother Claudia, who's forty two, so you can imagine my surprise--or shock--when I found I'd fallen in love with Jenna's sixty-four year old grandmother Pamela. So how the hell did it happen? In retrospect, as I puzzle over this very question, I can come up with only one answer: Pamela made it happen.
I was trying to get into Jenna's pants. She's eighteen, blonde, beautiful, curvy, and hot as hell. To impress her, I agreed to look in on her grandmother. Although Pamela is nothing if not spry and is more than capable of looking after herself, Jenna had taken it into her head that her grandmother is both old and decrepit. "I worry about her," Jenna told me more than once. "What if the poor dear falls and can't get up? What if she breaks a hip, and Mom and I are both at work? She could lie on the floor, in agony, for hours."
Initially, I'd responded to Jenna's fears the same way that Claudia did, telling Jenna that her concerns were premature; her grandmother was in great health and more than capable of taking care of herself.
"I worry about her, Brad," Jenna had answered, leaning her soft, luscious curves into my body and giving me an instant hard-on. "It would mean a lot to me if you could stop by her house a couple times a day and check on her."
I'd put my hand on her ass, drawing her against me even harder than she'd pressed herself against my hip and ribs. "How much would it mean to you?" I'd asked her, as if I were joking (only I wasn't joking, not a bit, and she knew it).
She'd kissed me. "A lot," she'd reiterated.
The next day, I started checking on Pamela, twice a day, Monday thorough Friday.
At first, Pamela was insulted. "I don't need anyone to check on me, young man," she'd made it clear.
"I'm just doing Jenna a favor," I replied.
"Well, don't!" she'd retorted.
I'd come by the next day, but Pamela had refused to answer the door. I'd reported her refusal to admit me to Jenna, and Jenna had given me a house key. "Check on her, whether she likes it or not," she'd instructed me. "I won't have my grandmother lying on the floor in agony until Mom or I get home from work."
To repay my "kindness" in checking on Pamela, Jenna had begun to suck my cock on the weekend, so I was prepared to summon the National Guard to storm her house so I could check on Pamela, if need be. "Okay," I'd agreed.
Needless to say, when I'd used the key to enter the house after Pamela had again refused to answer the door, I doubted that the sixty-four-year-old woman would be happy to see me--especially since, just having stepped out of the shower, she was naked, on her way from the bathroom to her bedroom, wearing not even so much as a towel.
"Oh, my God!" I'd exclaimed.
I'd thought she'd be as mortified as I was, but she hadn't been. Instead of drawing her towel around her, she'd walked toward me, her nude body gleaming in the sunlight that filtered through the gauzy curtains at the living room windows.
"I'm sorry! I--"
She'd said nothing. She'd just kept walking--toward me--an intense look on her face. When she was within inches of me, she'd looked into my eyes, and I'd felt more than a little nervous as she'd said, "If you're going to come by every day, whether I like it or not, and let yourself into my house, uninvited and unwelcome, maybe there's a use I can put you to, after all." She'd stepped even closer, closing the brief distance between us, pressing her flaccid thighs, flabby stomach, and drooping breasts into my own legs, belly, and chest, and kissed me, hard, upon the lips, her arms encircling my waist so that she could cup and squeeze my buttocks through my jeans.
I'd been horrified, but, curiously enough, I'd also been aroused, and my cock, mindless of age (and everything else, as a matter of fact), stiffened at once, swelling to rigid thickness between us. "Mrs. Lewis," I'd begun, but she'd cut me off, sticking her tongue into my mouth as she'd tightened her squeezing fingers upon my ass
After French kissing me for what had seemed hours, she'd said, "If you're going to be fucking me, you may as well call me Pamela, don't you think, Brad?"
We've been on a first-name basis ever since.
* * *
The first time Pamela and I made love, I didn't realize what I gem I had in her.
Oh, she came on to me boldly enough, gazing intently at me as she strode across the living room to thrust her ancient body with its sagging tits and flaccid ass against me while she shoved her granny tongue into my mouth and squeezed my buttocks in her withered hands. In the bedroom, though, where she led me next, she became suddenly a lot more coy. Although I tried to fuck her, first in the ass and then in the cunt, she refused my advances. I maneuvered around on the bed, so that my cock and balls were in her face, but she wouldn't take my prick into her mouth. The most she wanted to do--and the most she would allow me to do--was to lie face to face, naked, with my chiseled chest, my six-pack abs, my stiff cock and risen balls, and my firm thighs against her soft pillow-tits, her flabby belly, and her furry sex, stroking one another's backs and bottoms while she planted kiss after kiss on my face and lips. It hadn't been much, but it had been enough to harden and thicken my dick and make it ooze a drop or two of clear Cowper's fluid, or pre-cum, and enough to make me agree, most readily, to come back again tomorrow to "check on" my newfound love.
* * *
Our next "date" was a little better--that is, it offered a little more action--but not much.
Pamela was waiting for me, naked again, and we embraced in the foyer, as soon as I'd let myself in with the key that Jenna had given me. Her arms swept round my waist, and her frail hands cupped and squeezed my buttocks. Pamela seemed to have a thing for my ass, which is, unlike many men's buttocks, not only firm and compact, but also completely hairless and smooth. Her hands squeezed and kneaded, pressed and flexed, rubbed and fondled. In the bedroom, though, all she'd let me do, once I was naked like her, was to clutch and squeeze and jiggle and stroke her breasts, about which, although gravity had lengthened them and they were certainly anything but high, round, and firm, like Jenna's or Claudia's, there was something about their incredible softness, despite their small size and slightly wrinkled flesh, and the responsiveness of their nipples--they swelled, standing erect as soon as I began to flick and stroke and circle them with fingertips--that was exciting, and, of course, I agreed to "check on" Pamela the next day, even earlier, and planned to stay longer.
* * *
On Friday, during our third "date," Pamela deigned to let me kiss her ass.
Her buttocks are soft, but they're also saggy and sort of spongy. They are paler than a full moon--a rather ghastly white, in fact--and not all that enticing, being neither full nor firm, and the bottoms of her bottom are more flat than round. The cleavage between the leveled hemispheres is shallow, rather than deep, and some of the flesh is stretched or stippled. Nevertheless, the sight of the twin pillows was enough to make me hard--it doesn't take much to get me erect, I guess--and I was happy enough, while rubbing and massaging the ancient flesh of her bottom to plant kisses over its pale surface. However, Pamela drew the line, so to speak, at letting me rim her asshole, although I tried.
The weekend would separate us, and I wondered whether, come Monday, I'd want to restart my affair--or whatever it was that Pamela and I had going between us--anew or bow out of the amorous sessions with the aged woman.
I found that, all weekend, I longed for her. I thought and dreamed of her. I wanted neither food nor sleep. I wanted only, and always, Pamela.
I guess I'd fallen in love with a woman old enough to be my grandmother and with a woman who was, in fact, the grandmother of the young lady, Jenna, with whom I'd initially been smitten and of the young woman's own mother, Claudia, of whom I'd also been enamored.
* * *
Apparently, Pamela had missed me as much as I'd missed her.
"I've missed you, Brad," she told me between the multitude of kisses with which she showered my forehead, nose, cheeks, lips, and chin. "Let's go to bed!"
I let her take my hand, and she led me down the hallway to her room and the queen-size bed that stood in its center, flanked by twin nightstands bearing lamps and the knickknacks typical of the feminine persuasion. An ornate dresser occupied one of the walls, and a vanity, complete with huge mirror, stood against the opposite wall. Her room also boasted a walk-in closet and a bathroom with shower, toilet, and two sinks, or basins, in the shapes of seashells. A mermaid frolicked in a miniature fountain stationed between the sinks.
The room was spacious, with a bay window, and the floor was covered, wall to wall, in deep, luxurious carpeting. Moreover, the chamber opened onto a spacious balcony on which a pair of wicker chairs with deep cushions on their backs and seats stood between a wrought-iron table topped with tiles that formed a mosaic that displayed the city skyline at night.
The walls were papered in pink and gold, as if they were gift-wrapped within rather than without. Her boudoir was a lovely, feminine environment. I'd been here a few times, but this was the first I'd really given the place more than a cursory inspection. It was, like the rest of the mansion, quite elegantly and luxuriously appointed. Jenna and Claudia had a lot of money--most of it Pamela's.
The thought of fucking this ancient, but not unlovely, crone brought my cock to rigid thickness, and it stood upright, ready for action, my balls rising in their tightening pouch of flesh.
As soon as we'd climbed into her bed, Pamela had slathered a lubricant on both herself and my cock, to ease my penetration of her, and, not needing to be invited to fuck her again, I slid in, behind her, and thrust my cock between the lips of her labia, feeling the rigid shaft glide past the soft petals of flesh that guarded the portal to her sex.
"Not there, Brad!" she corrected me.
I paused, puzzled.
"In my ass," she instructed me. "I want your cock up my ass."
I shrugged. One hole was as good as another, I thought, and tugged free, adjusted my position relative to hers, and slipped my erection between the cheeks of her pillow-soft, if sagging, buttocks. Probing with the tip of my prick as I held the shaft in my fist, I quickly found her asshole, which is the orifice she had lubricated for me, and pressed firmly, exerting more and more pressure until my glans shoved through the tight opening, and I slid the entire length of my ten inches deep into her rectum.
A sigh of utter contentment escaped her aged lips as she pressed her bottom firmly against my pubes, luxuriating in the sensation of having her rectum crammed full of a virile young man's thick, hard cock. No doubt, it had been a long while since she'd been so impaled.
My prick was plugging a grandmother's ass, and I couldn't help feeling that such an act was somehow wrong and perverted. However, the sight alone of my cock impaling Pamela's pillow-soft bottom kept me hard--and, indeed, made me harder. There is something presumptuous and, often, arrogant about young women with hard, hot bodies--an attitude that Pamela lacked, having learned, over the years, as time stripped her more and more of her youthful charms, that such an attitude is not only unseemly but also apt to become increasingly ludicrous.
Lust had made my concern with fucking a woman who was four decades older than I am seem irrelevant, and I began to fuck Pamela in her ancient, withered ass, driving my manhood fast and hard through the wide-stretched circle of her anus and deep into her rectum.
When my balls slammed into her perineum, I again pulled out, leaving only the purple, swollen glans of my cock inside her asshole, and plunged home again, ramming my thick, hard prick as far as possible into her bowels. Back and forth through her gaping anus, I pumped my prick with greater speed and force until I was fucking her with a passion that bordered upon violence. Pamela, rocked beneath my every advance, gasped and moaned, squirming beneath me as her old tits bounced and swayed, her distended belly heaved, and her cellulite-dimpled legs flexed and straightened, her droopy buttocks jiggling.
I fucked Jenna's grandmother as if she were a slut or a whore, and she loved it. However, the intensity with which I drove my prick back and forth through her anus, plunging it repeatedly into her impaled bottom, precluded the longevity of our intercourse, and, within mere minutes of my having introduced my cock into her ass, I was spurting my seed. As the semen erupted from my balls, I jerked my cock free, firing the warm, thick, white rounds of ejaculate over my lover's dimpled, wrinkled, flaccid buttocks and over the thick rolls of fat along her fleshly back.
Spent and exhausted, I collapsed atop her, my cock riding the semen-slick furrow between her cum-splattered buttocks, and lay still, my heart beating wildly between her shoulder blades, my breath coming and going in quick, short gasps, a film of sweat cementing our naked bodies together, so that we, members of two generations separated by a third, and Pamela old enough to be my own grandmother while I young enough to be one of her grandchildren, had become as one flesh.
We slept, exhausted by our lovemaking and the complete draining away of all tension, anxiety, and care in which our sexual activity had resulted. Within minutes, Pamela was slumbering, my sperm drying into opaque streaks and dollops that became dry, brittle flakes. I watched her a while, lightly caressing the smooth, but wrinkled, skin of her buttocks and hip and thigh. Then, I slept a deep and dreamless sleep, uninterrupted by guilt, remorse, or shame at having fucked a senior citizen in her ass as hard and fast and deeply as if I had fucked her daughter or her granddaughter.
* * *
Later that afternoon, as we lay together in her bed, I studied Pamela's body. It was, quite frankly, a caricature of the ideal (or idealized) female physique. Her face was beautiful, still, in its own way, but the nose was a bit rutted and there was a series of parallel, horizontal lines across the upper lip. The lips themselves were thin and chapped. The cheeks were lined. The throat was beginning to take on the appearance of a turkey's neck. The breasts sagged, and, although not as pillow-soft as the derriere, they were not nearly as firm as those of a nubile young woman. The wrinkled stomach was bloated with rolls of fat. The thighs bore stretch marks and were dimpled, in places, with cellulite. The kneecaps were wrinkled and bony. The buttocks were flat and flabby. The skin, all over, was loose and slid under my hand as I caressed and fondled her ancient form.
Nevertheless, despite her aged condition, Pamela was an exciting--that is to say, an arousing--woman. She's lived a long time, relative to my age, and she's learned how to please a man, young or old. Beauty, I've learned, at her hands (and breasts and pussy and buttocks and anus) isn't only skin deep, but it's also truly in the eye of the beholder, and, to me, Pamela is far lovelier than either her daughter Claudia or her granddaughter Jenna, both of whom are, by society's standards, goddesses in the flesh. In fact, I have forgone young women in favor of Pamela.
"Be sure to come by again tomorrow, to check on me, Brad," Pamela said.
I kissed the gnarled knuckles of her arthritic hand. "I will, honey," I promised.
* * *
During the year we've been lovers, I haven't regretted my commitment to her once. I doubt that I ever will. Take it from someone who's sampled many a damsel's delightful derriere--and all ages of female flesh--granny fanny is the absolute best!