Maggie's Gift

These thoughts pushed me higher, faster, and it was only a very short time later than my second orgasm overwhelmed me. This one was more intense and I moaned and writhed beneath Grandpa as he continued to thrust and withdraw right through the whole process. As I was recovering, he sped up, thrusting harder, holding my breasts and using them for leverage as he pounded my clit and cunt. I had little time to recover from my last cum before I felt the next building, closer, almost there, then he thrust into me hard, gave a groan and I felt streams of his hot cum pouring into the end of my cunt. That set me off, as it always did, and with a loud scream I came for a third time, my body writhing, moaning, shaking as the combination of his hot sperm and my own ecstasy made me lose any semblance of control over my body.

After a few moments we both came down to earth once again. Grandpa lay gently on top of me, supporting himself with his arms, and we kissed as I felt his cock slowly softening and shrinking inside me. We wriggled around a bit until we were lying alongside each other, his soft cock still inside my entrance, his hand tracing lines of love over my breast as our breathing slowed and we kissed gently.

We must have slept for a short time because I awoke to a scream from Grandpa. When I opened my eyes, I saw him cowering against the wall at the head of the bed, one hand covering his cock as he sobbed, each sob shaking his body.

"No, no, no, NO, NO!" he said emphatically, "No, it cannot be. What have I done? You're my granddaughter. You can't be with me; we're family, we can't have sex. I'm sorry, so, so sorry. Oh, no, no, noooo." His voice died away to a moan as he continued sobbing.

I sat up, realizing what had happened; he'd been so certain that I was his wife, Maggie, and I had gone along with that illusion, that now, as he realized I was his granddaughter Maggie and we'd just committed incest, he was unable to cope. I moved towards him and placed my arms around him gently, making soothing sounds.

"Grandpa, I know I'm not your wife and I really, really wanted to give you this gift as a present on your birthday. I know that you thought I was your wife, and I played along. That was fine; it was what I wanted. It was wonderful and we both enjoyed it and I hope we can do it again many times. Please don't be sad or angry or regret the love we shared."

Slowly he stopped sobbing and then raised his head to look at me.

"B - b - but you're naked, and so am I. That shouldn't be. And we made love; that shouldn't have happened either."

"I know, but that's fine. Sometimes common sense is far better than all the laws in the world. I wanted to make love with you just as you did with me, except in your mind I was someone else. We had fun together and, if you're willing, I certainly hope we do many more times. Please don't be sad and please don't tarnish the love we gave each other with thoughts of it being wrong or harmful in any way."

He gradually relaxed and after several minutes he responded to my embrace by embracing me, tentatively at first, then with more certainty. We kissed, again tentatively at first, then that quickly developed into a full open-mouthed lovers' kiss as we'd had before. Finally, we broke apart and he held me at arm's length looking at me, almost, it seemed, in wonder.

"So, it's Ok then? No hard feelings?"

"Of course it's Ok. And certainly there's no hard feelings. I really enjoyed making love with you; I enjoyed the orgasms you gave me and I enjoyed giving you your orgasm and feeling you cum inside me. I really hope that you also enjoyed it and we can do this again some time, maybe many times," I replied with a grin.

He looked into my eyes for a few minutes, unmoving, then, apparently satisfied that what I said was the truth, he wrapped me in his arms.

"Thank you, darling, oh thank you so much. You don't know what it means to an old guy like me to be loved, really sexually loved, by a young, attractive and obviously willing woman like yourself. I will be very happy to repeat this whenever you wish, darling, but we can't let anyone else know about it." He moved away from me and looked into my eyes. "Promise you'll keep it a secret, honey?"

"Yes, Grandpa, it's a secret; just between the two of us," I promised.

*********************************

. . . . I remembered the wonderful times we'd had together; remembered how he'd comforted me when Phil left me for someone else; the long Sunday afternoons we had making love together in his big bed; remembered when I'd moved in with him after Phil had left and shared his bed every night, just as his wife Maggie had done for so many years. I thought of the joy we had brought each other; everybody deserved to have that joy in their final years and, in fact, throughout their lives.

I sprinkled a handful of loose soil onto the wooden coffin lid as it lay in the hole in the earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust, as the saying went. One half of our secret was now buried, the other half remained inside me, a treasured memory. How could something that seemed so right be judged to be so wrong by so many people? Surely love is love no matter with whom it is shared, provided it is given and received willingly, isn't it?

My tears splattered onto the ground as I walked slowly and thoughtfully away from the graveside; I couldn't help but wonder if the world would be a happier place if every granddaughter could take care of her Grandpa as I had done with mine.