Lani & Me Ch. 01

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For years I've had a thing for my petite, sexy grandmother.

Turns out, she had her eye on me, too.

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A day and evening of severe storms and airline chaos gave my petite, sexy grandmother the opportunity to introduce her grandson to the wonders of grownup sex.

A Word to the Reader: This is not literature. It is not even erotic literature - it's an amusing (I hope!) little piece of "What if...?" I hope you enjoy.                            

- cva

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Through the windshield wipers I was just able to catch a glimpse of the small green-and-white sign on the side of the highway: "Hancock Metro Airport 28 miles"

Shit.

It had already taken me two and a half hours to drive the 80 miles from home. Now it looked like it was going to be at least another half-hour, probably more, before I could get to the airport to pick up Gram.

Anyway, my grandmother - "Gram" - was coming to visit for two weeks. She was supposed to arrive at the airport - our airport - at 5:30, but an enormous line of very strong early summer storms was causing all sorts of air traffic problems and Gram's flight was one of the many that got diverted, in her case, to an airport an hour-and-a-half away - normally. Now it looked like Gram's flight wouldn't even land until 7 p.m., and who knows what kind of a mess it would be once they got on the ground, since this second-tier airport wasn't prepared to handle all the flights that were being diverted to it tonight.

I was surprised when Dad said that I should pick up Gram. I mean, I'm 18 and all, but still, I didn't think he'd trust me to drive this far, in this kind of weather. But he said he was confident that I'd be OK, "... and besides, I think your Gram will enjoy having you be the one to meet her."

My phone beside me on the passenger seat chimed. It was a text from Gram saying that they'd landed but there wouldn't be a gate available for them until 8:00 and that she'd call me when her checked luggage was in sight. I pecked out, "Snds gd, wil w8 4 yr call," and pressed send. And only then did I remember how much Gram hates "modern" texting abbreviations.

Anyhow, the timing worked out because it looked like I was going to arrive about 8:00 and I could park someplace near the airport and wait for her to call and tell me when and where to pick her up. I'll cut to the chase and simply say that eventually she phoned and I met her outside a rainy, very chaotic baggage claim area and we wasted no time in getting her suitcase into the trunk and her inside the car.

And once we were in the car the first thing she did was lean across the seat and give me a big kiss. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Jason! For a while I wasn't sure I was ever going to get here. But now I am, and I'm really looking forward to spending the next couple of weeks with you all."

I pulled away from the curb and drove off, but as soon as we left the airport property I realized that it was already after 9:00 and we had at least a three hour drive ahead of us, with no knowledge of what the roads or the weather were like. I pulled into the first place I found, which turned out to be the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. I called home and my dad said that the line of storms that had caused so much trouble had spawned several small tornados and caused a lot of damage around our home - we were fine, but there were a lot of downed trees and light posts and power lines in the direction that Gram and I would be coming from.

"Your best bet, J, would be for you and Lani to get some hotel rooms for the night - if you can still find any - and see how things are tomorrow. Besides, I'd feel better if you weren't driving tonight and I'm sure your grandmother has had a pretty hectic day, too. You do that, then give us a call once the two of you get settled somewhere."

My Dad's a pretty cool guy. I don't mean that he's "cool." What I mean is, he's pretty practical. I've heard the word "pragmatic," and I guess that's the word for him. He doesn't get all torqued out of shape when a problem comes up - just figures out the best thing to do under the circumstances.

And now was no different: you're more than 100 miles from home, it's late, conditions are sketchy - find a hotel.

We'll, we were already in a Holiday Inn parking lot, so...

We went in and the young man who'd pulled evening shift at the front desk welcomed us. We asked him for two rooms but he explained that with the weather and all the people getting stuck at the airport he only had one room "... but it's got lots of space - it's a king-sized bed, plus the sofa pulls out into another bed so there should be plenty of room for the two of ya'." Gram looked at me, I shrugged "OK," and she got out her American Express card. I have a card of my own, but it turns out you have to be 19 or maybe even 21 to register at a hotel in this state.

I unloaded her suitcase from the trunk and took it inside, then she waited for me while I parked the car and came back, and we took the elevator up to 617, which turned out to be on the top floor of the hotel. And as soon as we got into the room and Gram unlocked her suitcase and opened it I realized that she had everything she'd need for an overnight stay - and that I had nothing at all. I quickly phoned the front desk. The young man said that there's a Walmart just down the highway, "... but you better hurry 'cause it closes at 10."

I hollered into the bathroom, "I'm going to Walmart to get some stuff," and rushed out the door. It only took four minutes to get to the Walmart, but that gave me less than 15 minutes to get whatever I could.

I went straight to the men's accessories area and got a three-pack of briefs and a two-pack of Fruit-of-the-Loom T-shirts. I wanted to get a pair of track shorts or pants to wear as pajamas but there wasn't time for me to get to the sportswear section so I picked up a two-pack of boxer shorts. Then on the way out I grabbed an XL-sized Packers jersey that I could use for a robe in case I need one. I think I was the last customer out the door.

Then I realized that I was hungry, and even though Gram didn't say anything, she might be, too. I spotted a McDonalds that had the drive-through still open. I didn't know what Gram would want so I got two chicken sandwiches, two Big Macs, an order of hash browns, an apple pie, and two shakes - one vanilla, one chocolate.

When I got back to the hotel the nice guy at the desk asked if I needed any toiletries and ended up giving me a cheap toothbrush and tiny tube of Colgate, a mini-Speed Stick deodorant, a disposable razor and shaving cream, a miniature bottle of Scope mouthwash, and a plastic comb. Now at least I had a prayer of being decent enough to share a hotel room with another human being, and especially my Gram.

When I got back to our room I saw that she had already unpacked, at least enough for one night, and showered. I guess she decided to wash her hair, too, 'cause I heard the hair dryer roaring in the bathroom.

Gram's real name is Alohilani. Her parents were wannabe hippies who met on a beach in Hawaii where both of them had gone after they'd dropped out of their respective colleges. They got pregnant, then fell in love, then got married (possibly). Anyhow, they named their little blond baby girl Alohilani, which they'd tell people meant "Island Pearl." In fact, we later learned that it was actually the name of their favorite brand of rolling papers. Or maybe they were too stoned to even get that right. Anyhow, everyone calls her "Lani."

And she isn't really that old, or at least, what I think of as "grandma old." She had Mom when she was 18, so she's only in her mid-50s now. She's petite, maybe 5'1" max, so two or three inches shorter than my mom, and she's very, I don't know - trim, maybe? She lives in Arizona and she has a pool and she likes to tan, and I've seen her in a bikini - the really tiny ones she likes to wear - and she looks, well, great! She's got nice legs and a small but nice round butt, and her tummy looks like she might work out, or at least exercise a lot. It's flat and there's a hint of muscle underneath - not "abs," like a body-builder, but just the slightest hint of... definition?

And she's got these amazing small tits. I don't mean that she's flat - she's got tits, but they're small. But the thing is, they really look great - hot - in her tiny G-string bikini tops.

And yeah, it's weird, me talking about my grandma's tits. But I'm a guy, and they're tits, and they look amazing in those bikinis she's wearing on purpose while her young grandson's around sneaking peeks when he thinks he can get away with it.

But the most interesting thing about her looks is, she's got this weird old-young thing going on. She's got beautiful long straight hair that used to be blond but now some of it's turned gray, but it's still, I don't know, rich is maybe the word they'd use in the shampoo commercials. And she's got these long mostly-blond bangs in front that make her look almost like a young girl. So basically she looks like the Hawaiian beach girl she used to be, but now with the grayer hair and a few age lines on her face she looks, well, like I said, "old-young." To me, she looks "old-young hot."

And that's who came out of our hotel room bathroom, wearing a pale lavender satin robe-gown and looking completely refreshed despite the rough day of traveling she'd had. She smiled at me, then turned towards the bathroom and said, "Your turn - the water's nice and hot."

That sounded just about right after all the hassles since this afternoon so I opened the pack of boxers and grabbed the Packers jersey (and, at the last moment, the little stick of deodorant) and went into the bathroom.

I showered - I didn't wash my hair, but I wet it and then toweled it dry, put on the new boxers and some Speed Stick, then put on the huge Packers jersey - a humiliating experience and one which I hoped none of my friends would ever learn of - and went back out into the room.

Gram found the McDonalds and had already started on one of the chicken sammies and the chocolate shake, and while she was eating she was on her phone with my folks, letting them know that, yes, we were able to get a hotel room, and yes, she had everything she needed, and yes, I had gone out and bought the things I'd need for the night so we were all set and settled-in for the evening. She gave them the phone number for our hotel room, then said that she loved them and that we would phone tomorrow to see how the road conditions were.

"Thanks for getting this. I didn't realize how hungry I was 'til I saw the bag and smelled the food." She took a long pull on her milkshake straw, then looked at me. "You look all fresh and reinvigorated, too. I was so concerned about my problems getting here that I forgot to think - you've had a long day yourself." Then she noticed the Packers jersey and she smirked. "That jersey doesn't fit you very well - in so many ways!" Then another look. "But it does show off your shapely calves nicely."

I smiled - at both of Gram's observations. "Why, thank you, Ma'am - you make a young man blush."

"Don't you 'ma'am' me, you little shit. C'mere and give your Gram a kiss."

I walked over to where she was sitting. She had the good grace to set her milkshake down before tilting her head up for me to kiss her. I leaned down and kissed "my grandma." And the weird thing was - it was a really nice kiss. Not a perfunctory (I learned that word preparing for my SATs) kiss, and not a grandmother-grandson kiss. It was a soft, warm - appreciative - kiss. I can't describe how, but it made me feel good.

I grabbed a Big Mac and set out the hash browns and we both ate without talking much more. But while we were eating, it dawned on me - it's really nice, being here in the hotel room with Gram like this.

When we were finished she suggested that we turn on the TV and check out the local news. Lots of storm damage to the south and east of where we were - the direction we were going to have to go tomorrow to get home. Neither of us said anything but I think we were both mentally preparing for the fact that it might be another day before we'd be able to drive anywhere.

We learned that the local baseball team's game had been cancelled because of the dangerous weather and that the Prairie Middle School's girls' soccer bake sale had been postponed until next week. Then a final word on tomorrow morning's weather - "overcast, with the chance of thunderstorms - some severe - anytime throughout the day and evening."

We started watching a late-night talk show with one of the Jimmys but then decided we were just not interested so we finished our shakes and cleaned up from our "dinner" and Gram went into the bathroom one last time to brush her teeth and whatever. When she came out - looking, well, radiant - I went in and brushed my teeth with my charity toothbrush and toothpaste, and I gotta admit, I finally felt pretty decent.

I walked into the room and saw that Gram had taken the cushions off the sofa and was looking at the fold-out bed frame. I went over, and together we pulled it out and opened it up.

"I don't know, Jason."

I understood what she was getting at. The so-called mattress wasn't even four inches thick, and while it was already made-up with two sheets, you could still see the deep folds in it. No, not promising.

"Don't worry, Gram, it'll be OK - it's only gonna be for a night - two, max. I saw blankets and a pillow in the closet - don't worry, it'll be fine," hoping that she didn't hear the doubts in my voice.

Not convinced, she got on the bed herself. She moved around, trying several positions - several locations. Then she said, firmly, "No - no way, Jason. Even one night on this abomination will destroy your back."

"But..."

"No arguing. The bed is big enough for both of us. It's king-sized, and besides, I'm not very big so there's plenty of room for both of us to get a good night's sleep. Period."

As long as I've known Gram, when she finishes with "Period," all discussion is over. I sighed, making it "official" that I was giving in, but secretly I was glad. I was not looking forward to spending even 30 minutes on that miserable excuse of a sofa bed. She went and turned the bathroom light on, then closed the door most of the way, I guess so it would be kind of like a nightlight for us.

I wasn't totally comfortable about the idea of sleeping in the same bed with Gram. I mean, she was right about it being big and all, and about her being a small person. But, still... I mean, she's my grandmother, for Christ's sake! On the other hand, she isn't like a grandmother - whatever that means. I pulled back the covers and got in, staying close to the edge - my edge.

I mean, she's not really that old, and like tonight, she smells all fresh from her shower and washing her hair and stuff. And she really does look pretty - beautiful, almost - in that purple satin robe or whatever it is...

But just when I convinced myself that this was the sensible thing to do and that it wouldn't be so terrible sleeping in the same bed with an older woman, she slipped off her robe. And what she had on under it was - like practically nothing.

Actually, it was a short - nightgown, I guess. But it was so short that it barely covered her... her ass, and I was afraid that that was all she had on, but then she moved and I could see that she had on some kind of really short shorts that had these big, loose legs and matched the pale purple nightgown, like maybe it was some kind of sleep set or something. But anyhow, it was short - and it was out-and-out sexy!

And where she was standing, in the light from the bathroom door - it wasn't see-through or anything, but I could see her nipples pressing into the top - the nipples on those little tits that were always so sexy to me.

She turned out the bedside lamp and came around to the side of the bed where I was. She leaned down and kissed me again and said, "Thank you again, Jason. If I'm going to be stranded in a hotel room, I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather be stranded with." Then she went around to "her" side of the bed, got in, and I felt her pulling the sheets up and nestling her head into her pillows...

And left me like that! The short sexy nightgown, the soft kiss, the thing she said about how she "liked being stranded in a hotel room with me" - and the nipples! How am I supposed to sleep after that?

But I did. I must've been really tired from all the driving because I can't remember a thing after that... except that I was having this really nice dream, that there was this woman lying next to me and she was rubbing up against me and...

Okay - yeah, I didn't have a chance to "take care of myself" last night, or all yesterday, for that matter, so yeah, excuse me all to hell for having sex dreams.

So I'm in this dream, and there's this feeling of the "woman" that's laying next to me in this dream. And then I start to get conscious, and it feels like there's really a person there next to me, and that I'm humping my hips against her, somewhere - that I'm humping the woman in my dream.

And then I hear a voice.

"Mmmm, that's nice."

And I realize the voice isn't in my dream, and that it's an actual voice. And then I become aware of my hard-on, and then my brain begins to put the pieces together and I realize that I have a hard-on, and I'm humping my hips against the woman in my dream - and that I just heard a real woman's voice say, "Mmmm, that's nice."

And then I get a little more conscious and I realize: I have a hard-on, and it's sticking maybe half-way out the fly in my boxers. And I'm rubbing it against my Gram's ass, and it might even be sliding up inside one of the big loose leg holes of her satin pajama shorts...

So I'm horrified. I'm humping my Gram's - almost her ass! Inside her pajama bottoms! And as soon as I put this together, I know I gotta stop. So I start to roll back, toward the edge of the bed when there's this hand on my hip, and it's stopping me from rolling over.

And then the woman's voice says, "No, don't - keep doing what you're doing."

And it's like Gram knows what she's doing and that she needs to keep me from saying anything, because anything I say would just mess things up.

"Mmmm, that's nice, Jason. I haven't felt anything this good in a long time." She paused, just long enough for me to understand what she was saying, and that she liked it - and it meant that, to her, I wasn't doing anything wrong.

I coulda freaked! I shoulda freaked! I mean, c'mon! I'm lying here in the same bed with my grandma and I'm shoving my morning hard-on up the leg opening of her satin PJs - and she's telling me that it's OK, and in fact, that it's nice!

But I didn't. I mean, I didn't freak. Because it's true - I love my Gram, and she really is attractive - hot, even - and I've admired her body since, well, since I started looking at women's bodies. And, well, because it seems like she likes it - that my humping against her and into her PJ shorts - she likes it - that it's "nice."

And about the time I realize all these things, that's when she starts talking again. Or actually, she reaches back and her fingers grab the waist band of my new boxers and she's saying, "This might be even better if these are out of the way."

They were the kind of boxers that have snaps down the front, and she hooks her thumb under the top snap and pops it open, then the second one, then she slides her hand around my cock and undoes the third snap. Then she grabs the waist band at my hip and shoves them down, and without thinking about it I automatically lift my hips and Gram slides my boxers down over my ass - and past my dick.