My Diary 06 - A Week at My Grands

My Diary 06 - A Week at My Grands by Emily Harrison

Time ticks by and with just another week and a half before University was due to start, I wanted to make the most of what remained of the summer and the last few days before academia monopolised my time.

I'd done the last of my volunteering for the summer, Reg was now fully mobile again and before we could get to a second photographic 'shoot', he was called away to stay with his sister who had sadly just lost her husband at the grand old age of 91. I'm sure a second much-needed 'shoot' will be scheduled however, as soon as he's back, and as soon as I can fit it in once Uni starts.

It was now Thursday, two weeks into September. It had been a gloriously warm summer, full of adventures, new friends and new experiences. The last of the warm summer days were still with us, but I knew autumn and Uni were fast approaching.

Since having recently visited a naturist resort, with my elderly 81-year-old neighbour Albert, I had now, pretty much, fully embraced the naturist lifestyle whilst in my flat. I was naked 24/7 when home. Albert would pop in regularly, for a chat or a movie night, a chance to enjoy social nudity together, and although Albert was 100% gay, it was still a nice feeling being nude in someone else's company. We sometimes even cuddled up on mine, or his, sofa whilst watching some soppy old movie, sometimes you just need a good friend to share a cuddle with, especially when you're both blubbing away because the hero and heroine will never be together again.

Even though I'm 18, and there is some 63 years difference in our ages, we get on so well. On some visits he would have me in stitches, laughing so much at his jokes and witticisms, once or twice I've even been on the verge of peeing myself laughing. He's just so funny.

I'm also still regularly visiting my elderly teacher Mr Thomas, visits which provide an outlet for the naughtiest of my adventures.

But this Thursday, I'd woken up, the sun was shining, and the warmth of that early morning sun was already bathing the flat in lovely sultry summer heat. I needed to get out and enjoy it.

I never normally leave my house in the morning unless I've first bathed and made myself presentable to the world, but today, I just needed to be outside.

So I cleaned my teeth, brushed my hair, sprayed a mist of 'Impulse Tease Body Spray Deodorant' over myself, got into my black lycra cycling shorts, my black scoop neck sports vest and white Adidas trainers, grabbed my mobile phone and door keys and wheeled my mountain bike out through my front door.

Navigating my bike down several flights of stairs from my flat to the communal entrance is always a chore, but as soon as I was downstairs, I was on my bike and away.

Fortunately, my flat is only about half a mile or so from great swathes of green countryside. Farmland, woodlands and fresh country air. Within five minutes I was cycling up and over the gentle hillside which acted as a natural barrier between our quiet town and the even quieter countryside.

It seemed as though I was the only person on the planet, not a soul to be seen. The early morning chorus of birdsong was the only sound I could hear, that and the gears of my bike shifting as I navigated the ups and downs of the country paths.

It wasn't long before I was where I needed to be, on top of a wonderfully lush green hillock. The blue cloudless sky and the bright warm morning sun just made everything perfect. I slowed and stopped, got off my bike and eased it onto the grass.

I stood there for a moment, just taking in the smell of freshness, the warmth of the new day, the quietness; this was the English countryside for me. Perfect.

I sat, allowing my legs to recover, then laid back and closed my eyes. I didn't need to sleep; I just needed to relax, relax my entire body, including my eyes. It was just so quiet, so peaceful. Not a sound to be heard, apart from distant birdsong, a bee buzzing seemingly gorging itself on a pollen-filled wild flower nearby, I'm sure I could even hear myself breathing. It was that quiet. And those smells, those wonderful natural smells, fresh grass and fresh air.

Now, why didn't I go to the toilet before I left? Sometimes you don't think things through when you get an impulse, I had no thoughts when leaving the flat, other than getting out into the sun.

But it is what it is, I needed to poo. Now I've pooed outside before, if you've read my earlier accounts, you'll remember, but here I was in the middle of the countryside and the realisation that I hadn't even brought one tissue with me and I needed to poo.

I couldn't think about it any longer, I stood up, pulled my cycling shorts to just below my knees and squatted.

The second I was in position, my bum hole opened as a rather large poo pushed its way out, oh the relief. I could feel my bum closing and then opening again to release another smaller poo. I remained squatting as my bladder now decided to empty itself as well, my pee sparkling under the morning sun as it gushed out of me in a long stream.

It felt so nice squatting there, the morning air on my bare bum, a hint of steam rising from my rapidly cooling poo.

But no tissues. Darn it. I'd have given a king's ransom for just one sheet of toilet paper, I'm sure that would have been enough, just one wipe of my bum and I'd have been happy.

I looked around, hopeful that I might spot a large leaf or some such, anything to wipe my bum with, but nothing. Oh well!

I stood and pulled my shorts up. Knowing I was now going to be cycling home with a dirty bum produced a strange feeling.

Getting back on my bike, I rode on for a further half an hour or so before I'd done enough and decided to make my way back home. Conscious that my cycling shorts would definitely go straight in the wash the moment I got back to the flat. Note to self, always take tissues on bike rides!

Back at the flat, after a nice hot bath, I was busy drying my hair and made up my mind; I was going to go back down to my Grands for the last few days of my summer.

I'd spoken to my Gran a few days before (I wanted her toffee apple pudding recipe) and several times she was urging me to spend my last week of freedom down with them. And so it was decided, I'd head down on Saturday and spend a week down there. But that was in a few days' time.

A knock on my front door, ooooh delivery for Miss Harrison. Don't you just love Amazon deliveries, even when you know what's inside the parcel! And this was a particularly interesting delivery.

Since I started writing up my adventures and putting them on this site, some lovely people have written to me and many have become wonderful friends. In chatting with one particular good friend the other day, discussing the last time I was down at my Grand's and what subsequently happened with the Colonel, and knowing about my enjoyable experiences relieving myself in his presence, he mentioned enemas and thought it might be something to try.

Now as I told him, I was totally unaware what an enema was, I'd vaguely heard the name somewhere, but I had to Google it. And gosh I didn't even know such a thing was so well known, why didn't I know about them?

So onto Amazon I went, and there they all were, home enema kits, and so many on there too. Apparently giving yourself an enema can be beneficial to your health, particularly in cleaning out your system. So with the button pressed on my purchase that very same day, I eagerly awaited its delivery.

And here it now was.

I'd mentioned to my naturist neighbour Albert when chatting, my intended purchase and as he had some knowledge of how they worked, he asked to see it when it finally arrived.

So after unboxing my parcel, lots of tubes, what looked like a small hot water bottle and various other bits and pieces of plastic, there I was, with my brand new enema kit in my hands knocking on Albert's door.

Sitting in his flat looking through the instruction manual and looking at a few YouTube videos over a cup of tea, we admittedly had a few laughs at the process, but I was still keen to try it.

Albert had become such a good friend, we didn't have any secrets from each other and it felt quite natural, his offering to help and my accepting. So with tea drunk, we went back into my flat and carefully reread the instructions step by step.

Having just that very morning, out in the field, already done a poo, apparently, this was the ideal time to do an enema.

So there I was, naked from head to toe, laying on my side with my knees up to my chest, on a large bath towel on my bathroom floor, we had already filled the water bottle with warm water which Albert was going to be holding. Albert applied some lubricating gel onto the nozzle that was about to go up my bum, and with his finger, applied a little more lubricating gel onto my bum hole, then with me taking a deep breath, Albert began to ease the lubricated nozzle inside my bum.

With it all the way in and us both laughing at such a sight, Albert opened the valve and the warm water started to gently flow inside me. And wow, what a strangely nice feeling. I could actually feel that warmth going inside. With me still lying on my side and once the recommended amount of water was inside, Albert clamped the tube and gently eased the nozzle out of my bum.

After about 20 minutes of whiling away our time discussing the whole process, I felt a very sudden need to be on the toilet, with both Albert and me laughing at his assertion that I was going to be pooing all day long to get rid of all that water, I rapidly got my bum onto the toilet seat and let go. Albert was in hysterics as my bum seemed to jet out a very large quantity of discoloured water and little bits of poo. Urghh! But what a feeling. I needed to be close to the toilet for a good few hours after that, but that was it, my first enema, and it most definitely won't be my last either.

But here I was, two days later, on the train, heading to my Grands.

I've always loved visiting my Grands, both sets. My other set live up in Scotland, but these are my Southern England Grands. As you might have read in my earlier accounts of my visits to my Grands, I spent a lot of my childhood and teenage years staying with them during school summer holidays. It was always a fun time for me.

I always seem to get into conversations on trains, it's always interesting chatting with new people and when you're in a pretty empty carriage with just one or two others, it can break the monotony as well.

Now whether it's because of this 'thing' i have with older people, but the people I normally get chatting with always seem to be much older than me. And so it was on this journey.

Janet, sitting opposite me, was first to speak and we then spent the entire two-hour train ride, chatting. And as it transpired, when I told her where I was heading, I could see the realisation hit her.

"That's just a short walk from me," she said.

She had only recently settled in my Grand's village, having retired from her job in London had decided to have a fresh start in a new location and had moved down just a few months before. As yet she hadn't met my Grands or indeed some other names I mentioned to her, she did however know some of the villagers, and as a regular churchgoer, she also knew some of the congregation.

Janet suggested I visit her when I had a free day in the coming week, which I gratefully accepted. We exchanged phone numbers and promised to keep in touch over the week.

As my train pulled into the sleepy station of Little Halford, there were my Gran and Granddad, waving at me from behind the barrier. It's such a sleepy little station; I was one of only three people getting off the train, Janet being one of the others. It's that quiet.

After hugs and kisses with my Grands and introducing them to Janet, and with Janet then heading off to her own car, I was in Granddads Morris Minor and we were on our way.

As it was almost noon, and Granddad knowing what time my train was due to arrive, he had that morning reserved us a table at the village pub for a meal. So rather than go to the cottage first, he'd decided to stop at the pub, for us to have lunch, then after, onwards to home. And a lovely lunch it was too, a vegetable lasagne for the main, followed by a sticky toffee pudding.

It was lovely seeing some of the regulars from the village in there, it's a very small village, and everyone pretty much knows everyone else. So whenever I come back, I always have a lot of catching up to do with so many of my Grand's friends.

After lunch, we were back in Granddad's car for the short ride to their cottage.

Thomas, their old ginger tomcat was fast asleep on the driveway as we drove up, seemingly too tired even to move, but the moment he saw me getting out of the car he was ambling over for a stroke. It was lovely to be back, I'd always considered my Grand's place as my second home and since mum and dad had relocated to France, this was where I found comfort when I wanted to get away from everything.

We sat in the garden for the rest of the day, it was such a warm sunny day, even with autumn approaching, I might even get to wear my bikini a few times this visit.

That evening, after a bath and nightie on, I was down in the lounge with my Grands watching TV.

I've recently started to realise, that innocently being 'exposed' shall we say, is rather a nice feeling. Several recent occurrences and my burgeoning enjoyment in a naturist environment are all progressions of a feeling I've had for a while. It feels nice being so innocent and casual about being naked or partially naked. And being down here with my Grands is a case in point.

To explain. Now I've never liked wearing long nighties, my legs get tangled up in them if I've ever worn one in bed. So to be honest I try and stay away from any nighties, I much prefer to sleep in the nude. But there are some times when you have to wear something, for whatever reason. So whenever I come down and stay with my Grands, I will wear a nightie, but because I hate long ones, I will always wear a short one.

We have a kind of ritual when I'm staying at my Grand's, our day is spent doing whatever, then come the evening, I normally have a bath, get into my nightie then spend the evening with my Grand's either playing Trivial Pursuits or watching TV.

Our seating arrangement when watching TV very rarely changes either, it's normally Granddad sitting in his armchair, with me and Gran sitting on the sofa. We're quite a cuddly type of family, so whenever I'm on the sofa with Gran, nine times out of ten I snuggle down in a foetal-type position, my head on her lap, legs drawn up to my chest etc. curled up in a ball. And it has been known, for me to fall asleep like that. Well, my Grands do watch some boring TV programmes sometimes!!

Anyway, because of my dislike for long nighties, as I say, I wear short ones and the shorter the better. So normally when I'm standing, they just cover my bum. I don't wear panties when I have a nightie on either.

Now at some point, I had a realisation. The way I always laid on the sofa, my head on Grans' lap etc. from where my Granddad was sitting in his armchair and from the way I was laying, curled up like that and with such a short nightie on and with my rear end pointing towards him, well I had this sudden revelation and realisation, that Granddad had a full view of my bare bum and in fact my bare everything.

The moment I realised that it sent tingles throughout my whole body. And whereas most, in a similar position, once they realised, might instantly cover-up, I actually quite enjoyed that thought. Sometimes even squirming myself into a position to give him an even more interesting view.

Now I don't do anything in an obvious way, everything like this is done or shown accidentally and I never acknowledge things can be in view like that, which is how it is at my Grands. I love my Gran and Granddad completely, but in a normal Grands and Granddaughter way. There would never be anything remotely more than that. But to innocently and accidentally show my bare bum like that, has become very enjoyable for me.

In fact many times I would put my nightie on when I was back home and curl up in front of a mirror in my bedroom, so I could see exactly what my granddad would have seen. I have even taken the hem up of the nightie I was intending to take down with me, before I went, looking in the mirror curled up as I would soon be so that I knew exactly how much I would be showing.

My Granddad probably thinks it's a simple accident, me accidentally being exposed like that. But knowing he can see my bare bum, well there's something so enjoyably natural about it.

Since becoming a naturist, with Albert's help, I've even been thinking of telling my Grands about my naturism and asking if they'd mind me being naked whenever I visit. That could be nice. No more short nighties! Anyway, that's something to think about in the future.

So, it was Saturday night in front of the TV with my Grands, and then it was into bed, for an early start the next day, as we were all going to church in the morning.

Waking up at my Grand's always feels so wonderful, there's always the smell of Gran's breakfasts cooking away, so after I'd peed, cleaned my teeth and brushed my hair, I wandered down to the kitchen. After a hug for both Gran and Granddad, I devoured my cooked breakfast of fried egg, beans, mushrooms, fried potatoes and toast, all washed down with a hot cup of tea, I was stuffed.

Gran and Granddad were already washed and dressed ready for church, so as soon as I'd had my breakfast I was in the tub, then into my best Sunday summer dress that I'd brought down with me and we were ready for church.

It was a lovely sunny Sunday morning and so warm too, the short drive in Granddad's car requiring the windows to be open the whole 5-minute journey. As soon as we'd arrived, we were out of the car, and joining a few of the other villagers into church.

And there was The Colonel, third pew from the front. He waved to us and we went to sit with him. I managed to get in front of both Gran and Granddad, so as I shuffled along, I was sitting next to him. If you've read my earlier adventures, you will know all about The Colonel. We'd been in regular touch since my last visit, so he was fully aware that I was coming down for another week, in fact, we'd arranged to have at least a day together while I was down. But obviously, for show, we greeted each other as innocently as we knew we needed to.

For the whole of the Sunday service however, as we sat so closely together in this small church, which for a Sunday was fairly well packed, I could feel his leg pressed up against mine, even that made me tingle. I so wanted to kiss him. Yes, he was well into his seventies, but he really was a very sexy man and it was all I could do to keep my concentration on the vicar and his sermon.

But soon it was over. As the congregation casually filtered outside and back into the sun, shaking hands with the vicar and exchanging a few words with him and a few other villagers, it was time to head back to my Grands. I wanted to walk and I knew The Colonel would walk me back, so after a few words with my Grands to explain, they waved to us as they got into Granddad's car and headed for home.

At last, we were alone. We slowly started the walk back through the country lanes to my Grand's, but as soon as we were off the beaten track, we took a small detour into a little sunny glade, and we stopped. The Colonel put his arms around me, moved his head down close to mine and his lips touched mine. Mmm, those wonderful lips, his little military moustache tickling my nose as his tongue eased between my lips. His hands were up under my dress, his fingers sliding inside my panties and ohhhhh then inside me. It felt so wet already, as he pulled me in closer, his finger went deeper, as did his tongue inside my mouth.