My Grandpa is the Best

[Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Don't try this at home.]

After all the freshmen year rituals of joining a sorority, I needed to reconnect with my family back home. It was Christmas break, back at my family's beach house. I liked it that time of year, when the tourists were gone. I could take a stroll on the beach in my big hooded sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, picking up little sea shells and wondering about life. My parents were there and my younger brother, still in high school, and my grandpa, my mother's dad. My grandmother had died five years ago, so we had grandpa over for all the holidays since then. My other parents lived out in California. I didn't see them as much.

I loved my new sorority sisters, but I missed my family. Grandpa was a great story teller. He would reminisce about growing up in the late sixties and seventies. He loved fast cars, blue jeans and t-shirts. He was old school cool with plenty of silver hair now but still prided himself on staying in shape, despite his love for good whiskeys and the occasional Cuban cigar, much to the displeasure of my healthnut mother. Let him have a few pleasures in life, I always thought. He'd been through enough ups and downs. It all added to his mystique.

Plus he'd hit it big time as a sports broadcaster. He always wore the same solid gold Rolex -- I think he said it was called a datejust. I loved the way it sparkled especially by the fire light. He loved to sit by the fire and talk about the great games he'd called on radio and then TV, and how cute the cheerleaders were. He even paid for me to take cheerleading lessons for several years. Everyone said I had the body for it, but the coordination not so much! I hoped I could land a handsome ball player as my boyfriend in college, but so far no luck. The frat boys hit on me all the time, blowing up my phone, but they're not my type. So juvenile, with potential I guess but nothing they've done yet to brag about. My dad and my grandpa could both fix just about anything on a car. These boys these days didn't seem to know the first thing about changing a tire.

I think it was a couple days before Christmas itself. Mom had setup the tree, but only a scattering of presents had appeared underneath it so far. Stockings were hung on the little chimney, but had yet to be filled. It was by no means cold outside, not cold at all compared to my college campus this time of year, but just chilly enough to warrant a little fire in that old brick fireplace. My parents went to bed early. My kid brother would stay in his room for hours playing video games. But Grandpa and I were the night owls. I padded out in my bare feet and pajama bottoms, and my favorite tattered old sweater, to find him in his favorite chair by the fire, poking at a log and puffing on an unusually aromatic cigar. Only a little stained glass lamp and the fire barely lit the room. I don't think he noticed me at first.

"How's the fire, Grandpa?" I asked as I plopped down on the couch.

"Almost as enchanting as this Montecristo" he mused as he puffed on it and replaced the poker in its rack before sitting down beside me, and propping his feet up.

"It does smell nice. Your guilty pleasure?"

"Ha, yeah, I guess you could say that, especially when your mother isn't here to make me put it out. Everyone deserves a little guilty pleasure sometimes." he mused, staring up at the ceiling and exhaling out a long grey whisp of smoke. I could also smell the whiskey on his breath. I noticed an empty bottle on the mantle of the fire place.

"You know I never got a chance to thank you for paying for my college, Grandpa."

"Hey it's the least I could do, my angel." I would have paid for your mother's too but she and your dad got married right out of high school, just like I did.

That was true. They had both started families at a young age. I was 19 and my Grandpa was still in his fifties.

"Thank you, though, I really appreciate it. I even talked to the chearleading coach about maybe trying out."

That seemed to pique his interest. He sat up a bit, tilting the cigar in his hand and facing me. "Oh you did? What did she say?"

"Well she said I had the look for it but all the other girls on the team had competition experience and they didn't have any open slots. But she took my name down in case I could help out somehow."

"Ok, well that's an opening. Good for you, Angel. You know I'm proud of you." He seemed to relax again, but before he leaned his head back I caught his eyes looking at my cleavage. I hadn't meant to but I had only one button attached on this old sweater. It only had two buttons left, anyway. I think he blushed. He stared up at the ceiling, as if to clear his mind.

"It's ok, Grandpa."

"It's ok what?" he asked, taking another puff at the cigar.

"I saw you looking at my boobs. Everyone looks at my boobs." I giggled but it was true. I couldn't hide them so I didn't bother trying that hard, especially around the house. They were heavy and hurt my back sometimes but I hated the feel of most bras.

"They are nice, my Angel. All men will notice them, as I'm sure you're aware. Those boys at school must go after you all the time."

"Yeah, they do, but they're not my type." I sighed. "I'd love to date the next first round pick or whatever, but guys my age are still such kids.

"So what's your type?" he wondered, as he reached down to the floor and picked up a glass with an amber drink in it, bourbon perhaps. He liked that too.

"I've always been attracted to older, successful men" I had to admit. "Although I've never been with one."

"Well I can understand that. With your looks, you can have whoever you want." He sipped the bourbon and leaned his head back.

"Do you think I'm that beautiful, Grandpa?" I really wondered that. People told me I was, but it was hard for me to believe that about myself.

"Yes Angel, I mean look at you!" He turned to face me and I caught his eyes staring at my chest again before looking me in my eyes. "Any woman would love to be blessed with your features. And any man would be blessed to be with you."

He reached over to squeeze my hand. I squeezed it back. I felt something flutter.

He looked down at my chest again. I looked behind me, just to make sure no one else was in the room.

"Here Grandpa, you can look." I reached with my other hand and unbuttoned the one button holding my sweater together. It pulled apart and slid partially off my shoulders, revealing my chest.

"My God, you really are an Angel..." he sighed, now staring with my permission. "Are those DDs?" he asked.

"Thank goodness, no, just Ds. If I had DDs my back would be killing me!" I giggled. "Here, you can feel them." I guided his hand up to my chest and let him cup my left boob, then my right boob, giving them both a little jiggle.

"Your body is just perfect, my Angel. I must be dreaming!" he closed his eyes and shook his head. I felt his hand giving me a little squeeze. I liked it. I think I let out a little moan. My heart fluttered again. I didn't know what to do so I just leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. He tasted like Montecristo smoke.

"Now I know I'm dreaming..." he whispered, seemingly lost in another world. I've been kissed by an angel." My real name wasn't Angel, but that was always his pet name for me. I loved that name. I loved him. I closed my eyes and kissed him right on the lips.

He squeezed my hand in his hand, and squeezed my breast in his other hand. He kissed me back. His kisses tasted like bourbon and cigar smoke, like a real man. I opened my mouth to let his tongue in. I felt myself melting, my inhibitions melting. His kisses made me feel so alive. I always craved his love, his approval, to be his favorite. Only rarely did I catch him checking out my body, but I wondered what it would be like to give myself to him. As we kissed I felt my sweater finish tumbling off my shoulders. I didn't need its warmth any more. I felt his rough hands rubbing up and down my back. I kissed him more deeply, more slowly, inviting his tongue further in my mouth, sucking on it gently.

Finally our lips parted and we gazed in each others eyes. "What do you want me to do, my Angel?" He was so earnest. I felt like I could ask him to do anything for me in that moment. I didn't know what to say. Should I yield to what my body was feeling? I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Take me." I whispered suddenly. I didn't want to think about. I didn't want him to think about it. I pulled him close to me, holding his head against my bare chest and stroking his silvery full head of hair. His hands continued to rub up and down my back until I rolled on top of him on the couch. we locked together in another kiss, the most passionate loving kiss I had ever experienced. I felt his hands glide down my back to my waistband, then underneath it to rest on my bare ass, holding and rubbing my ass in his big strong hands, holding me close on top of him. Finally I tugged down on my pajamas and shimmied them off my legs. I lay totally naked in his arms. I felt like that's where I belonged. We kissed and he rubbed all over my body, exploring it like he wanted to know every intimate detail.

I had to help him lift off his t-shirt. He felt so warm, so comforting beneath me. I let my boobs rest on his chiseled chest as we kissed. I loved how he massaged my hips and my round ass, how his fingers gripped my flesh. I moaned and shivered with pleasure at how he appreciated my body. He was in no rush. But my body wanted more. I unclasped the button on his jeans, then the zipper. Reaching in I felt his bulge. I would have understood if I didn't turn him on, but I was glad that I did. I squeezed it in my hand and felt it throb, its hardness growing by the second. It needed to be free. I tugged his jeans down his legs, pulling his boxers off with them, until suddenly we were both naked in each other's arms, finally. It felt so right, so natural. I loved feeling his hardness press against me, feeling it throbbing as we kissed. I knew he would never try to push it in me. I would have to.

I ran my fingers through his hair, rubbing myself on top of him. "I want it." I whispered.

"You can have it." he moaned, locking eyes with me. I could see his love. I could see his animal passions, too, rising within him. So I straddled him, draping my boobs over his face as I guided his tip up toward my wet slit. Just before I was about to lower on him, I felt his hands squeezing my boobs and his lips and tongue suckling on me. I moaned and shivered and had to catch my breath. I wanted him now more than ever. I wrapped my fingers tight around his throbbing shaft, guiding him upwards, until his swollen tip met my labia and then suddenly sank into me. This time I moaned louder and a full orgasm overwhelmed me. I felt myself shaking and at the same time I felt him thrusting upward, picking my body off the couch as he finally sank the full length of his meat into me.

Impaled on his throbbing cock I gave into my orgasm, clenching on his hard cock and grabbing his shoulders. That must have turned him on more. I felt his hands on my ass pulling me down with every thrust straight up into me. I felt like he was unleashing years of pent up sexual desire on me at that moment, thrusting up into me with all the force he could muster, squeezing my ass and probing me with his bare tip. I bucked up and down and rode him as he buried his cock into me over and over, our bodies meeting each time in the air with all the love and passion we could both unleash on one another.

My heart yearned to give myself over to his desires, to fulfill his needs, to be the best Angel I could possibly be. I wanted to feel him so deep inside me, penetrating me, piercing me, impaling me, drilling himself into me, rearranging me inside. Wave after wave of orgasms crashed over me. I remember both moaning and crying hot tears from the passion and ecstasy I felt in that moment. And his size, stretching me to accommodate him, gliding past my slick walls, throbbing deep inside me.

I loved the heat from his body too, how he warmed me both inside and out. I noticed the fire had dwindled to burning embers, now still glowing red hot. We must had been going at it like this for an hour. I noticed his cigar had gone completely out. But I wanted the passion of our sexual union to last forever. I kept begging him to keep going, to take me harder, to take me deeper. And he was all too eager to oblige, giving me loving thrusts and joining our bodies together in the kind of passion I had always longed for in a relationship with a man, especially an older man.

But I shoud've known he couldn't do this all night long. He would reach his limit. I sensed it in the way his rhythm changed, his breathing quickened. "I'm so close..." he moaned. "Keep going" I assured him, kissing him and riding him, squeezing him with my muscles. "I want you to finish" I begged breathlessly. I felt him thrusting faster. "Where??" he needed to know, urgently.

"Inside me, please!" I begged, feeling my womb ready to receive my lover's seed. It was as if that was the only permission he needed. He wouldn't do it if I didn't want it. But I wanted it. I needed to feel it, to complete me inside, to take our relationship to its ultimate height. I kissed him passionately, pressing my boobs against his chest, trying to relax my muscles so he could thrust into me with ease. He ramped up his speed, building into a crecendo of violent sexual passion, slapping our bodies together until I felt his body start to shake beneath me.

With one last thrust, with all his athletic strength, he shoved every inch of his throbbing cock all the way up in me, lifting me in the air as his hands pulled down on my ass, guaranteeing his tip would plow into me as deep as physically possible. I gave into the feeling of being completely ravished by him. The moment I felt the first hot jet of his semen inside me, my whole body shook, I arched my back, trying to contain my convulsions as he writhed beneath me, moaning and lost in his own orgasm, sending rivers of his hot seed erupting against my now bruised and tender cervix. Both our hearts raced, our bodies entwined and now connected forever in deep sexual union, transcending even the physical pleasure of it all, exceeding all my emotional needs, all the love I could ever have for a man. I sank into his arms, whimpering and still shaking from my body's heights of ecstasy. I nestled my head against his strong shoulder. He ran his fingers through my long blonde hair, down my back to my bare ass, now red from how he had smacked it.

I sensed him still hard and throbbing inside me. I squeezed on him and heard him moan in response. He thrust gently against my grip and I felt him release three more short but intimate blasts inside me. I knew he now had given me every drop he could muster. It was how he expressed his love for me. His seed, his millions of sperm, now tingling inside me, belonged in my fertile womb and we both knew it and felt it.

I have the best grandpa ever.