Learning from Nana Tasha

Despite the fact that it says very clearly in this story that the character was an adult when the events happened, it needs to be explicitly stated that all characters are over the age of 18, legal adults, etc.

My parents have always worked long hours, which meant that I've always spent a lot of time with my grandmother on my mom's side, Nana Tasha. How do I even describe her?

Ok, picture a stereotypical hippie woman and you're off to a good start. She wears these flowy, multi-colored, loose-fitting dresses, usually with big sleeves that spread out like fairy wings when she walks. No. Walks isn't even the right word. Tasha practically floats from one place to another. She's just incredibly graceful and elegant.

She has long curly hair, mostly light brown with some gray, but she always has some streaks of pink or purple or blue. She wears these thick, colorful headbands to hold her hair back. This has the effect of framing her face in a wonderful way, like a glamour portrait.

Oh, and jewelry. Nana Tasha LOVES jewelry. I don't mean expensive stuff like gold or diamonds. Her arms are covered in bracelets, some are handmade with brightly colored beads of mix-matched sizes. Some are light metal with swirling designs etched into them. Some have dangling charms. If you ever ask her about one of them, she'll lift her elbow to show it off while she indicates it with her other hand, fingers fluttering about like a magician revealing a dove that appeared out of a handkerchief. She totally talks with her hands. You could watch her speaking on mute and still know exactly what she's thinking based on the gestures and waves of her hands.

She'll flutter her fingers over one of her bracelets and say, "Oh! Isn't it just fabulous?" Then, she'll tell you all about the friend who crafted it for her or the darling little antique store she passed by where she absolutely had to have it once she saw it in the window. It's the same with all her colorful necklaces and her long dangling earrings.

You could say her appearance is gaudy because she is extravagant and bright, and she does certainly draw everyone's attention, but she's not ostentatious. She's not putting on a display for people to notice or praise her. She doesn't care about impressing anyone. She wears the things she likes. She'll only describe her ornaments if you bring it up and she's perfectly fine if you don't.

That's another thing about Nana Tasha, the way she talks to you. She makes everyone feel like they are the absolute most important person in the entire world. It's incredible, really, how invested she gets in everyone. Literally. You can see it, too. She makes people feel so special and valuable. They raise their shoulders and they smile more, like she's actually brightening their mood and they might not even realize it.

And it isn't just while they're talking. She'll be so excited when she tells me about whoever she met recently. "Oh, there was this amazing server named Emma at the restaurant. She's just started college and she was surprised by how much she enjoys her sociology class. Her professor has a thick accent and one of Emma's classmates asked where he was from. He grinned and pointed in the air to spell out N-I-G-E-R-I-A. Emma acted it out for me and it was positively delightful."

Or "I met a man named Bill today. He had one of those marvelous mobility scooters, only his had these thick tires like a mountain bike and the whole thing sits a little higher off the ground. He said, 'A big man needs a big ride,' and he honked his horn for me as he went around the corner. He was spectacularly charming."

In fact, that's how she talks about everything. She describes the most mundane everyday moments as fabulous and delightful, spectacular and wonderful. You get so excited and so wrapped up in her stories.

Her house, you have got to see. You'd swear it was something out of a storybook forest. Somehow, it's this nature cottage even though she lives in the city. Vines grow up the side of the house. Flower bushes wrap around a short white picket fence. She has a little stone path to the front door. There are visitors constantly, hummingbirds, flutterbies, (that's what she always calls them) squirrels and little lizards. They scurry and dart around everywhere, right at home in her tiny yard.

I don't technically live with Nana Tasha, but her house is definitely home to me. I have my own room with a desk and twin bed my mom used to use. Sometimes, it's hard to imagine my mom growing up here. She is such a different person from Nana Tasha, but I've never seen them argue or quarrel over anything. Mom seems perfectly comfortable to let Tasha co-parent her son and Tasha's always content to have me around. Never once have I felt like I was annoying her or she was tired of my presence.

She welcomes me to whatever she's got going on for the day, doesn't change her plans at all. She'll bring me along to tea time with her group of lady friends, or to the elder care facility where she visits and volunteers each week. I get to be involved in so much of her life.

She's also given me a lot of independence over the years. When we would go shopping, she always let me wander or explore. If I wanted to look at a toy or game display, she'd leave me be until we were ready to go. That didn't mean she would buy me anything. It was really rare that she bought me stuff, but she would let me tell her all about the things I'd looked at once we were in the car. "Oh. I imagine that would be quite fun," she's say when I described some new videogame that I heard about in school.

She was available if I ever asked her about my homework, but her help usually meant responding to my questions with, "What did your teacher tell you about this?" or "You tell me. Does that make sense? Think it through." She was good at reminding me that I could often figure the answer out for myself if I tried. She was never one to make me do homework though, or give me any reminders. Once, I came home and asked her if I really had to do my school work. She simply answered, "You know what's expected of you and what your responsibilities are. It's up to you to get it done or not." I still think that's a really good answer.

So anyway, I was older, an adult when this happened. It was late in the morning and I was in my room. I looked out the window and saw that Tasha was in her garden. She was sitting in her chair, watching the birds and the flutterbies. Her bare feet were bouncing to some music playing in her head. I always liked seeing how comfortable she could be just sitting outside, content with no need to be entertained.

I figured that I'd have some time to myself so I took off my clothes and pulled up some generic porn video on my cell phone. I was laying on my bed and my cock got hard quickly. I was stroking for a few minutes when I heard Nana Tasha's voice ask, "What are you watching?" Something that has always baffled me is how she can be totally silent when she wants to. With all the jewelry she wears, you'd think she would have this jangling or clanging every time she moved. But, of course she'd managed to come inside the house and up the hallway without me hearing a sound. I hadn't even bothered to shut the door.

Instinctively, I covered the phone screen, like I could somehow hide that I was watching porn while I was laying there naked and masturbating. She had a curious but totally non-judgmental expression on her face. "You don't have to hide anything from me. I'm not going to embarrass you." She crossed the room with that effortless fairy-like grace and sat down on the edge of the bed beside my shoulder. She asked me again, "What are you watching?"

I felt sheepish as I revealed the screen to her. She sat watching for a few seconds. The video featured this woman with tons of makeup and huge fake breasts. There was a guy behind her with this monster of a cock. The woman was bent at a weird angle, with one leg up in the air so she could show off her whole body to the camera, especially the big bouncing boobs. She was looking right at the screen and shouting each time the guy pumped into her, "Oh yeah, Baby. Oh, Fuck me! Fuck yeah. Use me like a little slut. Fuck me with that big cock. Yeah, fuck me like a filthy little whore."

Nana Tasha closed her eyes and scrunched her face like she'd taken a huge bite of some foul-tasting, spoiled food. "No. No no no no." She shook her head from side to side and flittered her fingers in front of her face like she was trying to bat away a swarm of offensive insects. She gestured with her palm up, fingers wiggling at the phone. I handed it to her and she quickly turned the video off, "Honey, that isn't real. That's just plain trash." I understood what she meant. She wasn't saying the people were trash, the actors, but the whole thing was such a fake, showy production.

She had a focused expression on her face as she concentrated on the screen. Her fingers typed and within a minute, she handed the phone back, an entirely different video on the screen. There was a man and woman, naked in bed, but they didn't look anything like the other actors. The woman was thin, with small breasts. One nipple was noticeably larger than the other. The man wasn't toned or muscular, but had a pronounced belly.

The woman was on her back with the man curled up to her her on his side. The way his legs were bent, you couldn't see his penis. He was running his hand back and forth from her tummy to her thigh, using his palm to cradle her sex then moving on. Their faces were close together and they were exchanging light kisses back and forth. They weren't heavy making out or trying to swallow each other's tongues, just sharing small touches of affection.

"You see the difference?" Nana Tasha asked me. I did see. What she was showing me was very clear. This video was filled with intimate beauty and tenderness. "There's something truly wonderful about making love and wanting to share that with the world. Here they are in this sweet, sensual moment and they want us to share in the pleasure they are experiencing." Definitely not the way I'd ever heard someone talk about porn before.

The woman reached to take hold of the man's penis and somehow, even though you couldn't actually see anything with the camera angle, it was way sexier than watching Mr. Giantdick sliding in and out of that plastic girl from before. As I watched these two, my own cock started twitching, wanting attention. I was totally hard of course.

"You can go ahead," Nana Tasha told me, with a nod toward my bouncing erection. Obediently, I wrapped my fist tightly around my cock and started furiously pumping up and down. I barely made it a few seconds before she placed her hand firmly on my chest, pressing down to command my attention, "Stop." I let go and felt the unsatisfied screaming throughout my body.

"Sweetheart, you're not trying to beat the poor thing into submission. You're absolutely punishing him. Close your eyes and take a deep breath," I did as she said, filling my chest with air so her palm lifted then settled back down. "Your body is special and you need to be kind to him. Think of all the amazing, wonderful things he does for you everyday. He takes you everywhere you want to go. He carries you around and supports you. He allows you to experience everything in life that you enjoy. Your body works hard and he deserves to be treated with respect and reverence. Patience. Dignity. Caring." She paused after each word at the end, letting the meaning sink in.

"Okay. Put your hand on your tummy and slowly start to move around." I did, gently exploring my torso below her hand, which still hadn't moved. "Focus on the way your touch feels. Think of how your stomach is curved. Feel the motion beneath your skin."

She let me stay there a while before she said, "Now move to your thigh. Feel the muscles of your legs, how strong they are, how uniquely they are woven together. You're not just touching yourself, you are feeling yourself and your body is experiencing the sensation of being touched, being recognized and appreciated."

By this point, I was barely aware of the video. I was so completely wrapped up in Nana Tasha's soft, soothing voice and in a way of touching my body that somehow felt totally new and unfamiliar. "Now, you're going to move up to your scrotal sack, your balls. Just use your fingertips for the moment. Run them along the ridges and folds of your skin. If you touch them lightly enough, you're going to feel them responding to you, rotating inside of your body. This is such a remarkable part of you and it deserves attention and such admiration. Good. How do you feel?"

I breathed and thought the question over, wanting to answer her honestly. "I feel... excited... eager. I feel... almost overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed how?"

"Touching myself this way... It's not what I'm used to. It's intense, but also... subtle. My touch is so shallow, but I feel it really deeply."

"Gentleness can be a powerful thing, Sweetheart." As I think back on that day, I am really impressed by how long she had me staying in that spot and in that moment, stroking my balls without touching my cock. She asked me how I felt then so I would think of it, hear my own answer out loud and have time to let it sink in before we moved on.

"Not quite yet, but in a moment, you're gonna move to your penis. I want you to listen to me first, though. Keep lightly exploring your balls. When you touch him, you're not going to grab him with a first. You're only going to use your fingertips, like you are now. You're gonna be very gentle and you're going to explore him with your touch. You'll start by running your fingertip along the underside of your shaft. Trace every bulge and every vein. Feel the skin where his head connects to that shaft. Feel which spots are more sensitive than others. Allow your body to react to your touch. Do you understand."

I swallowed a lump in my throat and whispered a response, "I understand."

"Okay. He's waiting for you. Your... cock. He wants so badly for you to touch him. He's dancing with anticipation. He's so handsome and so proud. He's been so patient waiting for you... Now, give your wonderful cock the attention he needs."

My breathing turned to panting when my fingers made contact with this part of my anatomy. I was trembling, but Nana Tasha began rubbing her hand along my chest, applying pressure. Her heavy hand was a way of keeping me steady. I certainly wasn't calm, far from it, but the physical connection to her was soothing. She let me move my fingertips around for a glorious agonizing long while before she asked me, "How does your cock feel?"

"Hard," I answered almost immediately.

"Go on," her voice was so patient.

"He feels..." I was already adopting her wonderful way of speaking about my body. "Strong... He feels reactive... adaptive. Like my balls, I can feel him pulsing when I touch him in certain ways. Throbbing. I... I like the way my cock throbs. It's exciting to me. And he feels... hungry. Desperate to be satisfied."

Tasha nodded and continued to caress my bare chest. "Do you see the difference when you treat your body with kindness?" Of course I did, and she didn't need me to answer. "When you're ready, you can use the rest of your hand to give that cock the orgasm he's so hungry for."

I didn't hesitate a second, gripped my cock in a firm fist and managed only a few seconds of pumping before I exploded like a volcano. My hand was covered, and so was my stomach. A thick drop even landed on the back of her tender hand. She looked at it calmly and brought her other hand to gently rub the warm liquid into her skin as if it were a stray bit of handsoap. Then, she went right back to stroking my chest, soothing me with her soft palm. She waited patiently for my body to calm down, return to normal. Her hand eventually slowed to a stop before she smiled, slowly stood up and fairy-glided out into the hallway.

*****

Needless to say, that was about the only thing I could think of for the next few days. Part of me realized I should feel awkward about the whole thing, or at least question it... But, the truth was... it felt completely natural to me. There was somehow nothing strange about it at all.

Far as I could tell, Tasha felt just as natural. She didn't bring it up or treat me any differently than she always had. She just went right on being her same wonderful self. I mean, I don't think she could ever be anything else.

It was evening time, a few days later. We were sitting inside by the fireplace, not really talking or doing anything except enjoying the heat. I'd practiced how best to approach this. "Nana Tasha, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated my time with you the other day. Having you there with me when I was touching myself. It was very special to me."

"You are quite welcome. I'm very glad it was special for you."

"Well... I was wondering... hoping actually... I... Would you be willing to do that again? Be close to me while I... touch myself again."

"Certainly. Is that something you want to do right now?"

I wasn't exactly surprised by such a positive answer, but it was kind of exhilarating to hear it, "It is... I mean. I do very much."

She nodded agreeably, "We'll go to my room this time. You can get undressed and meet me there. All right?"

"Of course." I was trembling a bit with excitement when I went to my room to take my clothes off. No surprise, my cock was hard as stone already, and I couldn't keep this dopey grin from my face. I walked into Tasha's bedroom and saw her sort of sprawled out on her bed. That's the only way I know how to describe it. She had a bunch of pillows to prop herself up so she was sitting as much as reclining. Her legs were spread, which made the ruffles of her skirt fan out between them. Her smile was so warm and welcoming.

She gestured for me to come closer and tapped the bed through her skirt. I sat down between her open legs, facing away. The position left my head resting against her chest. Her arms draped across my torso. I don't remember ever feeling so wonderfully held. "Remember to take your time. No one's in any rush. Let your body enjoy this the way he deserves to."

To say I was more confident this time would hardly cover it. I had both of my hands running up and down my torso to my thighs, ignoring for now my stiff erection. In a weird way, I was trying to please her by pleasing myself, to show her the way I'd listened and heard the things she told me. I don't think I actually believed she'd be impressed by me, but... still.

It was a wonderful moment when I felt her hands moving along my chest, her bracelets trailing across my skin. I closed my eyes and let out this deep moan. There is an undeniable magic to her touch, the way she expresses so much love and caring through her soft fingertips. The feeling was so sweet I lost myself in it, like I sank into the warmth of her embrace. I just lay there, letting her hold my naked body, somehow both electrified and totally relaxed at the same time.

Her hands roamed about my chest and ribcage, then they drifted lower. She stroked her way across my tummy, to my thighs. I moaned aloud again when her hand slid delicately past my cock and cradled my balls in the gentle way she'd instructed me before. At the same time, her right hand found its way to my face. I leaned into her palm, pressing lightly against my cheek. My breathing was heavy but slow while I let her caress my balls.

The feel of her fingertips along the underside of my cock, even though I cognitively knew this particular touch was coming, was near to overwhelming with pleasure. She was incredible. There was such adoration to the way she played with him, and he reacted to every moment, every touch and caress.

She never even needed to pump my cock. She had me so intensely worked up, I came the instant her fingers wrapped around my shaft. Her hand still tenderly caressed my face. She gave my cock a lovingly gentle squeeze, allowing the liquid to flow out from my body.