tagIncest/TabooThe Seduction Story

The Seduction Story

byTxnPrd©

Chapter 1

It was the summer I turned 18 when my life took a dramatic change. To say I was surprised, shocked and a little overwhelmed would be putting it mildly however I wouldn't have changed it for the world. That summer, my love for my Grandmother transformed from care giver ... to my teacher, my Goddess, my lover.

My name is Nicholas, but everyone just calls me Nicky. My mother Shannon gave birth to me at the ripe young age of 15. I never knew my father because of the simple fact that my mother never told anyone who he was. Not because he was some dirt bag or crap boyfriend, or an older married man or anything like that. It was just that my Mom didn't think he was capable of being a father at his age; which was the same as Mom's. Besides, she had more than enough love, fortitude and determination to raise me on her own. I never complained in the 10 short years I knew her because she was a great mom. She always had time for me no matter what was going on in her life. Whatever hardships she endured as a young, single teen mom, she never failed to let me know that I was loved and wanted. She was one of the strongest women I have ever known, though I couldn't recognize that fact until I was much older.

Despite being a young teen mom, she determinedly finished high school and got her college degree in business and accounting. She had been working at a local CPA firm on large corporate accounts and was doing rather well for herself when the world came crashing down on us. She was diagnosed with bone cancer right before my 10th birthday. The cancer was aggressive and progressed faster than the doctors could treat, and she died within 6 months.

We had been living with my grandmother Rachael who was rather well off, primarily due to the inheritance from my Grandfather's estate and a well-managed trust fund. It made sense for my mom and me to live with her. Not only did it allow my mom to not worry about rent, but my grandmother was also a ready and willing baby-sitter. In a sense, I had 2 mothers growing up, though Gran as I called her was careful not to overstep my mom's authority and only offered advice and assistance and of course love. After my mom died, it was only natural that I remained with her and she assumed the role as my primary guardian. There weren't any other close relatives, just some distant cousins thousands of miles away who showed little or no interest in us.

I say "primary guardian" because she never tried to take my mother's place. She was always careful to make sure I understood that fact and in keeping the memory of my mother alive in the mind of a young boy. I was crushed, as any young boy who lost his mom would have been and Gran was there to hold me when I cried and comforted me when I was angry at the world. Many nights I slept in her bed sobbing uncontrollably and Gran would just hold me close to her, stroke my hair and tell me that everything is going to be okay and that she loved me. I didn't find out until several years later that she had been in just as much pain as I was but held it in check, never letting me see her cry, choosing to keep her own grief private. I loved her more than I could express for that and our relationship was a special one. I didn't realize it at the time just how special it would become.

Now don't get me wrong, our life wasn't all unicorns and roses. We had our ups and downs like any family does, especially during my early rebellious teen years. When I turned 13 I started skipping school, hanging out with the "Bad" boys and drank whatever alcohol we could get our hands on. Hell, I even tried weed from time to time but never really cared for it. Even that young, I liked to be in control and marijuana made me lose control. The sudden loss of my mother, which had been totally out of my control, made me feel helpless and I swore that I would never let destiny, or fate, or whatever you called it out of my own hands again. Even when I drank, I never drank so much that I wasn't aware of my surroundings.

For 3 years I was ironically out of control. Not that I wasn't aware of my own actions, but by the fact that I wasn't going to allow anyone to tell me what I could do or not do. I was my own master; destiny was mine to make and no one or thing was going to change that fact. It nearly drove Gran frantic with worry and anger. She would always berate me about my actions, cry over me with worry, or try to find ways to channel my feelings towards more positive directions. I would just blow her off or something and say something stupid like "You just don't understand me." She never did hit me though. Even when I surely deserved it, she never spanked me, slapped me or used any type of corporal punishment. Which was why, when I was 15, I finally said the one thing that pushed her over her limit and she slapped my full on the face.

I was so shocked that I didn't even feel the pain. Gran had been giving me a serious tongue lashing about coming home several hours after my curfew and a little drunk. She was yelling at me and pointing her finger in my face. I had finally grown taller than Gran's 5'7" and was feeling my oats when I screamed the ultimate Faux Pax at her.

"Leave me alone, you're not my Mom!"

The next thing I knew my head was ringing from her full arm slap. Shocked that she had actually hit me I just stood there dumbfounded and looked at her. Tears formed in her eyes at her own surprise and I will never forget the look of utter sadness as she ran to her bedroom. Instantly sober and knowing deep down that I royally fucked up I just stood there for a few minutes trying to gather my thoughts. I slowly went to her room and stood outside her door not knowing what to say as I heard powerful sobs coming from the other side. Reaching slowly to open the door I saw Gran lying on her bed and clutching something close to her chest as tears streamed down her face and her breasts were heaving from the crying. Guilt instantly overwhelmed me and I quickly went to her and grabbed her into the biggest hug I could manage saying,

"Gran don't cry, I'm sorry...I'm SO sorry."

She instantly wrapped her arms around me and gripped me tightly, nearly crushing me. It was then that I saw that what she had been clutching to her chest was a picture of my mother. As if struck by lightning, instant understanding crashed through my thick skull and I suddenly realized that Gran has been missing Mom just as much as I did but never let if show. She kept up a strong façade in front of me. Trying to comfort me through my own pain and anguish was more important to her than her own. Even after 5 years, the pain of loss was as fresh to us as if it happened yesterday. I had lost my mom by now I finally understood that Gran had lost a daughter. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, but I kept my pain quiet, choked in my own sobs as I stroked her hair and said that everything was going to be okay and that I loved her. We stayed like that for hours, finally falling into an exhausted sleep while holding on to each other for fear of loss.

She and I had a long talk the following morning over breakfast about what had happened the previous night. We talked about Mom a lot but also about what was going on in each other's life. Not necessarily the big important issues, but little ones as well. It was like a dam opened inside of me and I suddenly realized that I had not just another mother, but also a friend I could confide in. Someone who would listen to me. Someone I could share my worries and doubts to. Someone I could receive comfort from and in turn, offer my own. Someone who could tell me I was being a jerk without hurting my feelings and I could tell her she was being silly, and she wouldn't take offense. Gran became the most important person in my life and I suddenly feared that if I somehow lost her to, then the last thing I would remember was being a jerk towards her. That afternoon we visited my Mom's grave and left a bouquet of roses propped against her headstone. For only the second time I could remember, she openly cried for her daughter as she rested her hand on Mom's tombstone. I put my arm around her and cried myself. Our shared grief somehow eased our sorrow and both of us now knew that we weren't alone. Gran finally stood up and looked at me with a smile then said,

"I'll give you some time to be alone with her." Then turned towards the car.

As Gran was heading back to the car I stayed behind looking at Mom's headstone. The pain of loss came crashing on me again fresh as the day it happened but also realizing that I had someone to share it with and THAT made it a little more bearable. Right then and there I promised to Mom that I would straighten up my life, that I would take school more seriously but most importantly, that I would never, EVER, make Gran cry like that ever again.



Chapter 2

It was at my 18th birthday party when I started to look at my grandmother differently. I had invited a few friends over and since we were in our back-yard pool, swimsuits were the dress code of the day. After a lot of pleading, wheedling, and heartfelt promises that we would behave ourselves, my Gran had grudgingly allowed us to have a keg of beer at the party on the condition that she chaperoned and there were no major objections from the other parents. Needless to say, by late afternoon, there were a bunch of buzzed teenagers laying by the pool talking about everything under the sun. The guys talked mostly about the girls, and the girls...well we never really understood what they were talking about though whatever it was involved a lot of giggling and over the shoulder looks at us.

I was currently in a heated conversation with my best friend Tom, discussing the merits of Rebecca's bikini vs the modest one piece that Sue was sporting. Rebecca was easily one of the hottest girls in school. Standing at 5'2", 110 lbs, dirty blond hair and sky-blue eyes. What I liked most about her however was that she had a rack of 36D tits that would make any guy drool as if Pavlov had rung the dinner bell. Her bikini top seemed one size too small and they always looked on the verge of spilling out. Whenever she moved all of us guys would sneak glances hoping beyond hope that one or both of them would finally spill out and give us the view of her tits that we were dying to see.

Sue on the other hand, was 5'5", 105 lbs, red hair and hazel eyes. Her tits were the same size as Rebecca's, unfortunately she kept them covered and more under control. I always felt that she was just as stunning as Rebecca but since she had blossomed late, she was still trying to deal with the fact that guys suddenly found her extremely hot and she was unsure how to deal with it. I think Rebecca was trying to get her out of her shell and to loosen up by bringing her to the party.

As Tom and I were talking, we occasionally glanced over at Rebecca and Sue, trying to get glimpses of their most intimate private parts, mainly Rebecca's since her bikini afforded us the most hope that something would slip and reveal itself. Don't judge...we were hormonally charged teenagers trying our very best to discover just what made the opposite sex tick. Trying to be nonchalant about it, Tom and I would sneak glances at the girls whenever we thought we couldn't get caught. Little did I know that neither one of us was as sly as we thought because every time we turned away, we'd hear another round of giggles. During one of these secretive glances, I saw Rebecca looking directly at me with a small grin. She quickly turned away, whispered something to Sue then they both started giggling again. Rebecca and I had been friends since our freshman year, but I never thought anything about it, thinking that I was in the friend zone and that was okay. We had similar interests and got along well together. After that stare and grin however, I started wondering if there could be something more between us.

As I was daydreaming about the possibilities of hooking up with Rebecca, I heard a low wolf whistle from Tom's cousin Jeff. Jeff was visiting from out of town and Tom was obligated to bring him to the party although he wasn't technically invited. I didn't mind though because Tom was my best friend and we would do anything for each other. We had each other's back on more than one occasion.

I looked over at Jeff and saw that he was staring opened mouth with obvious lust in his eyes at someone behind us. Curiously I wondered which of the two girls he was lusting about when he whispered to us,

"Who is that hot lady?"

Tom glanced over my shoulder since my back was to the house and with a surprised look in his eyes replied,

"Dude, that's Nicky's grandmother you sick fuck."

I couldn't keep the surprise off my face and turned to look at Gran. She was coming out of the house carrying a tray of snacks for us and wearing a bright red bikini that in my opinion, showed too much body for a grandmother to show. I really had never considered Gran as a woman before, I mean...she was just Gran for Christ sakes. But after seeing the obvious appreciation in Jeff's eyes, and being a sex starved boy which was just another term for virgin with a constant hard on, I actually paused to take another look.

Gran was 5'7", maybe 115 lbs, with long straight black hair which she maintained with the help of Clairol number whatever. She had bright green eyes that always seemed to twinkle. She had a golden tan that complemented a toned and slender body that she religiously maintained with work outs at the gym 4 days a week. Her skin was flawless, not a blemish anywhere and appeared smooth as silk. Her heart shaped butt was toned and firm with no apparent sagginess I would have expected on a 52-year-old woman. Likewise, her breasts appeared to be just as firm and were about the size of large oranges sticking straight out from her chest. I later found out by sneaking into the laundry and finding her bra one day that they were 36C's. Watching her walking toward us I couldn't help but notice that they had a wonderful bounce to them. To my knowledge she never had surgery, so she must have been all natural. Most importantly she had a walk that, even when barefoot as she was right know, could only be described as a sashaying strut that was seductive as hell. I don't think she did it intentionally, it was just natural to her. As far back as I can remember she walked that way and was only just now realizing that it was sexy as hell. Her feet were well manicured, and her toe nails painted red to match her bikini. She had a beautiful smile that would make the sun itself dim a little every time she flashed it. Despite her age, she looked and acted 10 to 15 years younger.

As I was watching her my mind flashed back over the years and I suddenly realized that Gran had always dressed to impress. Sometimes sexy and sometimes demurely. Her dresses were always shiny and smooth either silk, satin or other similar material. Shirts and blouses were loose and seemed to dip dangerously down to her breasts with just a suggestion about the treasured valley within. Hell, now that I think on it, I remember a few times when I saw flashes of her bras as she would bend over for one chore or another. Thigh high stockings and garters were her preference rather than full panty hose. How do I know about her hosiery preference you ask? I'm sure you remember me mentioning that I raided the laundry to see her bra size. It's only a logically step to check everything else now wouldn't you agree? I even discovered that the panties she wore were small lacy things that barely covered her ass and pussy much like the bikini she now wore.

PUSSY?. What the hell am I thinking. This is Gran. I shouldn't be thinking about her pussy ... but even as that guilty thought entered my mind I suddenly wondered if she shaved, trimmed or was "Au Naturale". Oh hell I thought. I quickly shook my head trying to get the thoughts from my mind as she neared us and bent down to offer us some of the snacks she made saying

"Eat up boys, I made these especially for you."

Bending over like that I couldn't help but look at the cleavage the bikini made of her breasts and instantly I started to feel my manhood on the rise. I risked a glance down trying to tell if she was indeed shaved or not and my eyes widened in surprise because I could see a hint of her pussy lips in a slight camel toe, suggesting not much hair. I turned redder than a tomato and, trying to hide my growing erection from Tom, Jeff and especially Gran, I jumped up and dove into the pool to try and cool off in more ways than just one. Gran just looked at me with a quizzical look on her face, one eyebrow slightly cocked up. As I looked back, trying to keep my eyes on anything other than her tits, and let's face it, they were tits now not just breasts, I saw her mouth twitch up in a smile as she tried to keep a straight face for my sake. I waited until she had left to serve the girls and my dick got itself under control before exiting the pool and returning to my friends. Tom looked at me with a shit ass eating grin on his face, instantly aware of where my thoughts had been. Jeff was still ogling Gran so when I punched him in the gut to get his attention off her, he looked sheepishly at me and just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "Sorry man."

We soon got back to discussing the girls, but my mind wasn't in to it as I had been before. For some reason I kept watching out for Gran and when she did occasionally check up on us, I couldn't help but wonder what she would look like naked.

Chapter 3

In the months that followed I slowly began to realize that Gran was one sexy lady. I had thought I was being clever and covert about the way I was spying on her but soon I realized that she was fully aware of what I was doing. Not only was she aware but she seemed flattered that I was paying more attention to her and obviously found her to be very attractive. She started to wear clothes that showed off a little more skin or would be a little flashier. Her skirts were always above the knees and whenever she bent over or sat down, the tops of her lacey stockings were just visible, teasing me with just a mere glimpse. While doing chores around the house she seemed to brush by me more and more often. Our house wasn't small, and I found it odd, and at the same time sexually enticing, that she seemed to be rubbing her body against mine as if by accident. At the breakfast table she started wearing only a silk robe loosely tied in the front clearly showing off the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. I could see the inside swell of her tits and every time she would bend slightly, I had to catch myself from bending with her on the off chance I might see her nipples, which I could tell were small, budding things that stuck out through the silk robe. My eyes seemed to develop a permanent strain as I tried taking side long glances hoping for a glimpse inside.

She became more and more touchy feely. Touching my arms when asking for something or putting her hands on my neck thanking me for doing a chore as she kissed my cheek. When coming home from whatever she was doing that day, she would greet me with hugs, pressing her body against mine and kissing me softly on the cheek. I of course would get an instant erection as I felt her breasts crush into me, her nipples poking me, and I was terrified that she would feel it against her body. If she ever did, she never let on about it. After a while I would look forward to these greetings and even tried rubbing myself against her ever so slightly, trying to make each hug last just a little longer.

She would never change out of her clothes, only remove her shoes and walked around in her stockings. I quickly developed a stocking fetish and would find myself staring at them, imagining running my hands up and down her legs. Hell I even volunteered to give her foot massages whenever she complained about sore feet just to get my hands on her stocking clad legs.

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