My Grandma the LesbianbyMisterReason©
Tyler Grant had led a very interesting life, packing a lot of different experiences into his nearly 20 years, but one thing had never changed. He loved his grandmother.
While most people could make that same claim themselves, the way Tyler loved his grandmother was a bit out of the ordinary.
An introduction to the woman I love.
It's been a exhausting couple of days for me, what with driving the nearly 800 miles from school to back home, and then the emotional reunion that came with my return here.
The lovemaking? That took a lot out of me as well, but it was fantastic, as it always was. It was the reason that I had driven all that way as fast as I could, to get back in the arms of the woman I love.
She's sleeping now, and I should be back in bed with her as well, cuddling and spooning up against her, but I'm too tired to sleep. I'm sure you've know the feeling as well, so I decided to write a little.
The subject is the woman I love and it's about our long, and what most would call our out-of-the-ordinary relationship. The love of my life is older than I am - 40 years older to be exact - but that's not the part that most would consider strange.
The unusual part is the fact that the woman of my dreams, 60 year old Alexis Parsons, is my Grandma, and this is the story of how we came to be.
Chapter One: How it started.
I was the first, and hopefully only child of my mother, Cindy Grant. My mother got knocked up with me when she was 15, impregnated by the man she loved who was twice her age. Fell in love very young and very dumb, as my Grandma would often say, to a man who loved dope. He passed that love onto her, and from what I've been able to learn, they proceeded to do their best to try and kill themselves.
Thankfully, my grandmother stepped in and offered to take me off of my parents hands when I was about 4. They jumped at the chance to get rid of their little nuisance, packing me, along with my clothes and teddy bear, to Grandma's house.
I seem to remember my mother telling me that she would be seeing me soon, as soon as she and my father could get their act together. It's been over 15 years and counting, so I'm not holding my breath. It's not like they couldn't find me if they wanted, because I've been right where they left me.
Are they alive? Who knows. I neither know nor care. I barely remember my mother and wouldn't know my father if I fell over him. Thanks for having me and more thanks for not keeping me.
That's the end of the sad part of my life, because everything since then has been fantastic. Since being dropped off at Grandma's in this quaint town of Little Falls, New York, I've been deliriously happy.
Little Falls had been Grandma's home all of her life, and the single family house just outside what the locals call "downtown" had been where my Grandma had called home since she bought it with my grandfather back in the 80's. It's nothing fancy, but it's clean and neat and just as nice as the other modest homes in the area.
My grandfather? Never met him, and I suspect I never will. Him and Grandma broke up well before I was born. I don't know but about the story, but from what I can gather, their marriage was no closer to being Ward and June Cleaver's than my own folks had been.
"Wife-beating, whore-chasing, lying no-good bastard," was how my Grandma referred to him after a couple of drinks, in one of those rare moments when she spoke of him.
There's no pictures of them together, or him either. There was one in the shed out back, that had been held to the wall by a little axe, but that rotted away over the years. Suffice to say that I don't expect my grandfather to stop by any sooner than my folks will.
In all the years that I lived with Grandma, she never had a man visit her, or date her. She had a lot of women friends over the years though, and when they visited Grandma would get real happy. Many times long after I had gone to bed, I would wake up to go pee and hear Grandma giggling with a friend in her room.
Grandma not ever having any boyfriends struck me as odd as I got older, and I mentioned to her one time that if she ever wanted to go out on a date or anything, I was old enough to not need a babysitter.
"No thanks, Tyler," Grandma said. "Only gonna be one man around this house, and that's you."
While I wanted my Grandma to be happy, I have to admit that if I had ever seen her with a man, I probably would have been mad, or jealous. You see, as I got into my teens and started dealing with the emotions and changes that come with growing up, I discovered one thing.
I loved my Grandma, and the love I had for her wasn't what you were supposed to feel for your grandmother, or at least that was what my friend Benny Schultz told me.
"No offense dude, but I think your grandmother is hot," he told me one afternoon after stopping at my house and walking to school with me. "She's better looking than most of the kid's mothers, and she's your GRANDMOTHER!"
"I know," I agreed.
"I would do her in a New York minute," Benny opined.
"Me too," I said, and that got a weird look from Benny.
"Oh man, that's gross!" Benny said derisively. "She's your grandmother."
"So? I still think she's hot," I confessed.
"You ever see her naked?" Benny asked.
"Nah!" I said. "Just little peeks now and then."
"Too bad," Benny told me. "It don't make any difference anyway, on account of she's a lezzie."
That stopped me dead in my tracks, and if Benny wasn't my closest friend I would have kicked his ass instantly, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and made him explain himself.
He thought I knew. I could I not know? It was probably the worst kept secret in town, apparently, yet I was so close to the tree I couldn't see the forest. Alexis Parsons was a lesbian.
Why hadn't anybody said anything? I guess it helped that I was pretty popular in school, and I suppose that it was common knowledge that you could say whatever you wanted to me about the Yankees, and put down U2 to your heart's content, but the one thing that you never did was say anything remotely unkind about Grandma.
A couple of kids had, years ago, and they learned that while I didn't play the tough guy and avoided fights like the plague, I was not somebody to be trifled with. I don't even remember what those victims had even said at the time - certainly nothing like what Benny had laid on me - but after that I never heard a discouraging word.
Chapter Two: My Grandma is a lesbian.
It all made sense, and after I thought about it I felt like an idiot. It wasn't like that Grandma ever did anything in front of me to raise any red flags, and I later learned that she made it clear to her lovers that there would be no shows of affection in front of me.
That explained the giggling in the bedroom, and after Benny made me see the light, I found myself even more attracted to my Grandma. It was obvious why someone would find her attractive, and although I admit to being prejudiced, the fact remains that Grandma Alex (my pet name for her) was and is an attractive woman.
Back then when she was in her fifties her hair was light brown and her figure was very shapely. Her breasts were just perfectly proportioned with the rest of her body, which was about 5'6" and 125 pounds. She wore a 34B bra, which I knew because of many times spent in the laundry room caressing the soft cups and dreaming about seeing what filled them so nicely.
The thought of her with another woman - now that was something that really got me excited. Like most guys, the idea of women together was erotic as hell, and imagining my grandmother being one of them drove me crazy.
I began to recall some of the women that had visited Grandma over the years. It wasn't like there were thousands of them, but I recalled at least a dozen. They had been a wide variety of ages, sizes and shapes, and while before they had been in my mind just Grandma Alex's lady friends, they were now something else.
Chapter Three: Grandma sees me.
To this day, Grandma Alex maintains that it was an accident that day when she came into the bathroom and saw me naked. She swears that when she heard the shower running, she remembered that there were no clean towels in the bathroom, so she hurried into the linen closet to get me some before I got out of the shower.
She was right about there being no towels in there, but I had noticed that and grabbed one before hopping in. Grandma was also right when she said that I usually took a long time in the shower, but I was in a hurry that day so I kept it down to about 10 minutes instead of 20.
Anyway, the door flew open just as I flung the shower curtain to the side, and there we were, me naked and dripping wet and my grandmother standing there with her arms full of towels.
"OH!" Grandma said, looking first startled and then looking down at my crotch.
"My word Tyler," Grandma said as she set the towels down, still staring at my groin all the while. "You're hung like a horse."
By the time I covered myself up, Grandma was gone, leaving me feeling strange. Hung like a horse? Me?
In truth, if I had been trying to impress Grandma, she couldn't have come in at a better time. I had just finished masturbating before turning the water off, my fist pumping as I thought of - who else? - my grandmother and the lady that had just started visiting her.
So with my cock still semi-turgid, the curtain opened and there I was, looking like a horse, according to Grandma. I was no horse, but I have to admit was a little bit blessed in the penis department.
According to the official measurements that my friend Benny and I had taken when a dispute over who was bigger had risen, I was the winner, Benny's five and a half inch boner losing out to my almost seven inch erection, although Benny was the unquestioned winner in the girth category.
Still and all, even though I was no John Holmes, hearing my Grandma sound so impressed did excite me, and provided the fodder for countless more masturbatory fantasies to come.
Chapter Three: Maggie.
The woman that I had been thinking about that day in the shower, Maggie, had become a semi-regular around the house that spring. She was younger than my Grandma, probably in her 30's, and the woman had the most unusual body I had ever seen.
Maggie was about 5'10" and had curly dark brown hair. She wasn't really pretty, and had a face that always seemed sad or angry, but I don't think many people looked at her face anyway.
She worked as a bartender downtown, and always wore these tight black slacks that showed off her skinny legs and almost non-existent butt. The tops Maggie wore were either black or white, and were as snug as her slacks were, and the reason was obvious.
Maggie had the biggest breasts in the history of tits. They were like watermelons rolling around her chest, and it wasn't like she was flaunting them or anything, because the blouses were always turtlenecks and had sleeves too.
That March of my senior year in high school, Maggie had started to spend more and more time with my grandmother, and for a time had even seemed to be living there. I had even gotten to spend some time with her dirty laundry, getting to fondle her bra.
The harness was old and the tag and faded away, which ruined my dreams of finding out how big Maggie's tits were, but I was able to put my head in a single cup. Thankfully, I heard Grandma coming down the stairs, or else it might have been tough to explain wearing a bra as a hat.
One day, we got let out of school because of a water main break, so I arrived home much earlier than usual. I came in through the back door, and I was just about to announce my entrance when I happened to glance into my Grandma's bedroom.
The glance couldn't have lasted more than a couple of seconds, but in that time what I saw would last me a lifetime. Grandma Alex was wearing a bra and panties, and it was looking like she had just helped Maggie on with her top, a black one that day.
Grandma was standing behind Maggie, my grandmother's little frame dwarfed by the Amazon-like physique of the younger woman, and Grandma's arms were around Maggie, her hands right on those gigantic tits and kneading them like crazy.
Grandma suddenly turned in my direction and her head almost bugged out of her skull. She kicked the door closed, the slam reverberating throughout the house, and I was left in shock over what I had seen. I retreated to my room, and Grandma was knocking on the door 10 minutes later.
"Tyler," Grandma said softly, clearly upset. "Home early I see."
"They let us out on account of a water main break," I explained, and Grandma nodded.
"What you saw," Grandma said. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It was really cool. I wish I could have kept watching," I admitted, and even though I was being honest my choices of words was as bad as my timing.
"I wasn't doing it for your amusement," Grandma snapped, leaving the room.
I didn't see Grandma until later that night when I emerged from my room for dinner, and in Tyler time that translated to six self-induced orgasms, with the vision of my grandmother's hands all over Maggie's breasts providing the inspiration.
Dinner was a silent affair, and after I helped clear the table I went back to my room. I had just gotten my pajamas on and was looking around for a stray sock, which my pal Benny had told me made a handy receptacle when you jerked off. Slip it on and whack away. No tell-tale mess, except for the sock. I already had used several that day, and when I dug one out of the back of the drawer there came a knock on the door again.
Chapter Four: Apologies.
"Tyler, I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier," Grandma said softly, and I noticed that her voice was slurred, as if she had been drinking.
"No, it isn't. I was mad at myself and took it out on you," she explained. "I'm always so careful about exposing you to what I do."
"It's alright," I told her. "I knew already."
"You did?" Grandma said, and then shrugged. "Yes, I suppose that you would have figured it out. You aren't a boy any more. You're a man, and in a few months you'll be off to college. Still, I didn't want you to ever see what you saw today."
"I know, but I'm not sorry that I saw you two. It was really erotic."
Just then my grandmother happened to see the sock in my hand, and then glanced over at the pile of other socks I had carelessly left on the night stand. Those socks were all twisted and fused into grotesque shapes by the semen now dried inside of them.
"I can see that," she said, putting two and two together really fast for an grandma. "I've seen socks like those in the hamper."
Now it was my turn to be embarrassed, and could feel the burning sensation as I turned beet red while trying to stand between her and the cum-filled socks to keep her from staring at them.
"Hey, you're a man," Grandma said. "Compared to what I've gotten from other men, you're a saint. Let me get them out of here for you."
Grandma gathered the crunchy socks up as I cringed, and was walking out the door when she turned back.
"I trust you can toss that one in the hamper yourself when it's dirty," she said, nodding toward the clean sock I was holding before adding that she was only kidding.
"It was erotic, and I was jealous too," I blurted out as Grandma opened the door.
"I can understand that," she said as she stood in the doorway. "Maggie's really something. Too bad for you she doesn't like men much right now."
"It isn't her that I want," I heard myself saying. "It's you."
My grandmother froze in her tracks, her wry smile turning into another look. It was one of disbelief, and she stood there for almost a minute, not really sure what she had just heard.
"I love you. I always have and always will," I said.
"I love you too, Tyler," she said, looking unsteady on her feet. "It's been a long day for both of us. Good night honey."
Eventually I climbed into bed and turned out the light. The sock wasn't needed, because I was certain that I had just ruined my life. Benny had been right. Guys do not think about their grandmothers like I did mine.
Chapter Five: Spying.
I was up in my room wearing only a t-shirt with my cock in my sock, slowly stroking away while waiting for my Grandma to go back out onto the deck, where she had been posing for my enjoyment. She didn't realize she had been, but when I happened to glance out and saw her there in the lounge chair, I felt obligated to look. I even brought out my binoculars, which had enhanced the view dramatically.
On that warm spring afternoon Grandma Alex had been reading while enjoying the sun, dressed in a pink tank top and shorts, but had stopped reading and reclined in the chair. That was when I brought out the sock.
Looking through the spyglasses, I could see her like she was right in front of me. The image was so clear that I could even see the droplets of sweat that clung to the peach fuzz under her arms as she stretched high before getting up for a cocktail refill.
I had almost reached orgasm by then, but she got up too fast and left the deck so I kept myself primed and ready while waiting for her return, because looking at Grandma while I came intensified the orgasm, or so I had learned.
"Come on," I muttered to myself, fidgeting while wondering if I could wait much longer.
Hopefully she would get back soon, and when she sat back down I would get another look down the front of her tank-top. That would get me off good, I figured, because I had gotten a great peek at most of her hangers when she got up.
"Ahem," came the sound of the throat being cleared behind me.
"Shit!" I yelped, spinning around to see my grandmother standing in the doorway.
I dropped the binoculars, and then sent the venetian blinds swinging as I unsuccessfully tried to catch them before they crashed on the floor.
"Don't break the blinds too," Grandma said as the glasses shattered on the hardwood.
"Don't you knock?" I sputtered, feeling like a fool.
"The door was open," Grandma said calmly. "Don't be stopping on my account."
"What?" I asked.
"I said don't stop, Finish up," Grandma said, folding her arms across her chest and leaning on the door. "Take that fool sock off your thing first."
"Why not?" Grandma insisted. "If you're going to yank on yourself while looking at me you might as well get a good look."
"I can't do that," I cried, looking around for something to cover myself up with.
"Will this help?" Grandma suggested, and as she spoke she calmly lifted her tank-top over head.
Chapter Six: Getting off.
I almost fainted. That was how shocked I was at watching this scenario unfold. Was my Grandma drunk? She might have been a little tipsy, but was very lucid when she had spoken to me, and as I got my first look at my grandmother's breasts, despite my embarrassment I found myself getting hard.
"Here?" I asked while taking my blossoming organ in hand and starting to stroke myself.
Grandma nodded and stayed in the doorway, her hand against the door moulding. Her breasts were beautiful. The pale orbs hung down a bit, making them seem bigger than I had imagined, and while they weren't full, her pale pink aureoles were huge, covering almost the entire ends of the hangers. Her nipples were fat stubs that seemed to be getting bigger as I leered at them.
"Your tits - breasts I mean," I panted. "They're beautiful."
My cock was as hard as steel, and I noticed that my grandmother was breathing as hard as I was, her eyes fixed on my cock and the fist that was pumping it hard. How badly did I want the hand to be hers?
It was too late to ask, because I was about to cum even though my fist had stopped pumping and now simply held my cock by the stump. I brought my free hand to the head of my cock to try and catch my load that was on the way, but my grandmother had other ideas.