Note. . . This is a continuation of the OLD IKE story. It would help, though not absolutely necessary, if you read it first. It really should be listed as Mature-Anal.

Ike & Grams

After work, Ike took off toward wherever he lived and I crossed the alley from the greenhouses to the house I shared with my 72 year old grandmother.

By the time I sponged off in the bathroom and put on dry clothes, supper was on the table.

“Who’s the old man I saw heading towards town,” asked Grams.

“His name is Ike Thomas and he’s not a man you’d ever want to know.”

“He looks nice enough .” She paused. “For an old man, that is.”

“He’s the nastiest man I ever met,” I said.

Grams, a tall, gray-haired, rawboned, beanpole of a woman, smiled. “You don’t say.”

“I just did.”

Grams dropped the subject and we ate supper with little conversation. After eating, as we did every evening, Grams cleared the table and washed the dishes. I wiped.

Grams drained the dishwater from the sink, wrung out the dishrag and wiped the oil cloth covering the heavy, round, oaken table. The old woman straightened and looked me in the eye. “We got some talking to do, Jack.”

“Bout what, Grams?”

She put her hands on her narrow hips. Her lean jaw jutted out and the cords in her scarecrow neck stood out. “How long have you been dicking that old man’s shitter?”

“Grams! I . . .”

“Never mind denying it. I seen you doing him this noon with my own two eyes.”

“Grams, it’s only happened once. He wanted me to. I swear. . . I’ve never done anything like that before . . .”

“Now don’t go telling me you didn’t like doing it some.”

“The honest to God’s truth. . . I never felt anything like it in my whole life.”

“I’ll believe that,” said Grams.

I was totally confused and ashamed. I didn’t know if Grams was mad at me or what. I had never heard her use the words she used that evening. I couldn’t imagine what she must think of me after seeing me with my hard pecker up Ike’s hairy butt.

“Your Grandpa was always partial to the back hole. It never much mattered to him whether it was a man’s or a woman’s.”

“Grams! You shouldn’t talk like that.”

“Don’t you be going goody-goody on me now, young man. You’re grown up now. I seen you put your man stalk up that old man in the place where the sun don’t shine. You’ve done lost your cherry. We don’t have to watch our language any more and I can say shit and fuck just like I always done when you wasn’t around.”

“You’re making me mighty uncomfortable . . .”

“Don’t go trying to squirm out of it. I seen you drop your pants and, while he was bent over, you put that big thang of yours right up his old shit hole and buggered the bejesus out of his hairy, white ass.”

He wanted me too.”

“I ain’t saying he didn’t,” said Grams, “but if you hadn’t wanted it you wouldn’t have been hard long enough to get in that tight little hole.”

“I’m sorry, Grams, that you had to see that.”

Grams smiled a smile that showed all her dentures. “Got to admit it, I enjoyed the watching. If you don’t mind your old Grams saying so, you got a right nice tally-whacker hanging between your legs. Course it brought back some powerful memories of my man too.”

“I’m sorry, Grams.”

“Would it trouble you too much to share that boner with a lonely old granny who’s wanting some something awful?”

“You mean you want me to . . .”

“I’d like you to ram it up your old Gram’s shit chute. Think you could help a needy old woman that ain’t been diddled back there in a coon’s age.”

“I guess it’s been a long time.”

“Ain’t been fucked proper since your grandpa got sick and couldn’t get it up no more. That was nearly three years ago.”

“Grams, I’ve never heard you talk like this. It’s like you’re another person.”

“Never saw you riding an old man’s naked butt before, neither.”

“You wanting me to do you like I done to him?”

Gram moved to lock the kitchen door. “I’m hotter than a sow in heat. If you’re any kind of a caring grandson, you’ll plow your granny’s twitchy shitter and get her off right now.”

“You’re sure?”

Grams bent over the solid oak table and flipped up the loose skirt of her long gingham dress. She wore nothing underneath. Her thin, scarecrow legs ended in two tight bubbles of muscle forming a taut, intriguing butt that disappeared into a curve connecting to her skinny back, a ridge of bony spine continuing to her neck.

She may not have looked like much but she made my cock stand and quiver in my pants.

“C’mon, Sonny,” she whispered. “Ride your old Gram’s butt and make her feel good. C’mon, boy, fuck the shit out of her.”

Her brown back hole was in full view above the puffy slit of her old, gray pussy. Had it not been for the image of that hairy slit with the brownish pink lips, I am not sure I would have been hard enough to penetrate her tight back hole.

“If you loved your old granny like your gramps did, you lick it to make it wet before you plugged that old shit hole, “ said Grams. “But, being as you’re not up to the taste, There’s a cruet of olive oil there on the table you can coat your pecker with before you drive it home.”

I did that and forced my cock in into her tight rosette. Grams grunted just once when I broke through into her back channel.

“Do me deep, Sonny. Do me good.”

I rode her fast and hard.

When we were done, Grams turned and kissed me on the cheek. “You done me right good, Jack. You done yourself proud with that stiff you got.”

“It felt real good Grams.”

“If you’re a real good boy, I might let you crawl into my bed after the both of us get naked.”

I wasn’t sure I was ready for seeing her in the all-together but I said, “That would be great Grams. I’d like that.”

“Might let you play in my parsley patch too.” She winked. Course it’s the back forty I’d be expecting you to plow.”

“Any place you say, Grams.”

In bed that night, cuddled spoon fashion, with my cock still firmly up her ass, Grams placed my hand on her hairy pussy and said, “This is the way I went to sleep may and many a night with Gramps. Makes me feel kind of strange being filled up the way he always did me.”

“If you’d rather not.”

“Didn’t mean it that way. You give me feelings like I ain’t had for too long a time.”

“It feels good making you happy, Grams.”

“About that old man you was boogering. . .”

“Are you mad about that?”

“Shit sakes alive, I ain’t mad boy.” She tittered girlishly like I’d never heard her before. “Maybe a teensy bit jealous but not mad.”

“He’s a nasty old man. I shouldn’t have done what I did with him.”

Grams snorted, “Now don’t tell me what you was doing to him didn’t make your pecker feel good.” She used her anal muscle to give my cock a good squeeze.

“It felt plenty good but two men shouldn’t be doing that to each other. It’s not right.”

“Maybe so,” said Grams. “Maybe you poking your Grams old shitter, like you just done, wouldn’t be looked on with a whole lot of favor in the town’s high society.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say, shitter.”

“Your Gramps always liked shit chute. ‘Want a pecker load up your dirty old shit chute, tonight, he’d say. Then he’d bend me over that kitchen table, pour a little olive oil on his cock and put that boner right up my back passage in a way that took my breath away.”

I couldn’t help it. My cock was getting harder. I pulled it out a little and shoved it back against her tight little buttocks. She rubbed those smooth cheeks against the pubic hair on my belly and it felt good. Grams giggled. Good lord, Boy! Ain’t you had enough backdoor banging?”

I stroked into her again. I don’t know if there is enough, It feels so good.”

She pushed back to me. “Well you won’t find this old gal quitting on you. You got me hotter than a freshly fucked fox in a forrest fire, so fuck away and fuck me good and while you’re at it. play with that little bump at the top of my slit. It feels mighty good when you play with that.”

I stroked slowly into her, enjoying every in and out. “How come we never did this before?”

“Mainly, I guess cause I was still thinking of you as a boy stead of a man and cause you’re my daughter’s only child. I just never though of you being able to give me this kind of comfort. Bless your heart.” She hesitated, “And your nice hard cock.”

“Glad you like it, Grams.”

“Wouldn’t have come to me to take you on if I hadn’t see you doing that old man that way.”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“Honey,” she gasped, use your thumb a little more, I’m about to cum all over you.”

“I’m right behind you.” I speeded up and pounded into her tight rosebud as fast as I could.”

“I can tell,” groaned Grams, “you’re pounding the shit out of me and that’s for sure.”

“I’m sorry.”

Grams gritted her teeth. “For God’s sake don’t stop now. Do Me. CORNHOLE ME GOOD!”

I kept pounding her ass till she screamed.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Shit! I’m coming!”

After we got our breath back and I thought we were settled for the night with my cock soaking in her ass, Grams whispered, “Jack?”

“I yawned. “Yes Grams?”

“We’re having a pot of beans with some hunks of ham thrown in for supper tomorrow night. There’s going to be plenty, do you think that nice old man might like to eat with us?”


“If I’d known you were inviting me for supper, I’d have shaved this morning and worn a clean shirt.” Ike ran his fingers across the white stubble on his cheeks and chin.

“Don’t let it worry you none,” said Grams. “There’s been times when I’ve craved the feel of a man’s whiskers against my skin.”

“You don’t say?”

“Just did.”

Gram’s conversation throughout the meal centered on Ike. The only time she spoke to me was when she asked me to pass something to Ike.

After Grams cleared the table and sat back down, Ike leaned back and laced his fingers together across his belly. “Now that was a mighty fine meal, Ma’am.

“Weren’t nothing special,” said Grams. “Just a few hunks of ham tossed into a pot of beans along with a few drops of Tobacco to warm it up.”

“It warmed me good. I can feel it all the way down to . . . Well halfway to my toes?”

“Guess it might could warm a few other places,” ventured Grams. “You like to get that feeling, Mr. Thomas?”

“Gives me a tingle where I tinkle,” said Ike.

“I was thinking about that manly feeling men sometimes come to get from spices and hot sauce.”

“I got that one too,” acknowledged Ike. “Got one big enough to make me perk up and feel young again.”

“That same warm feeling tells me I’m not a girl but a hot-blooded woman.” Grams gave me a look that told me I should excuse myself and leave the room.

I got up and left but I stayed in the next room, still in earshot, to find out where this talk would take them.

“Age is in the mind, I always say,” said I ke.

“As a feeling, it’s more like an itch, said Grams, “that needs scratching in some of the goldangest places.”

“Would it presumptuous to ask if I might volunteer to scratch that place where it itches worst?” asked I ke.”

Grams tittered. “It’s a mighty personal place I was thinking of.”

“I was hoping it might be.”

Grams took Ike’s hand and examined the length of his fingers. She said, “My old man always said, You can’t always tell the depth of the well by the length of the handle on the pump.”

“Well,” said Ike, “ you can measure my old pump handle anytime you feel the urge, Ma’am. Fact is you can prime my pump.”

Grams said, “I might take you up on that, young fella.

“I’d be proud to display my six incher.”

Gram’s hand disappeared under the table and clasped Ike's leg. “I miss my man something awful,”said Grams, sadly. “I miss him in ways I simply can’t tell a stranger about.”

From Ike's expression her hand had moved up his leg. “You can tell me, dear lady, and we’ll never be strangers again.”

“A mature woman has got feelings that won’t go away just because her man has gone away and been buried.”

Her hand progressed until it found a side opening and slipped inside and moved down, toward his core. From Ike’s expression, Gram’s fingers soon encircled a handful. “Somebody’s got some hard feelings around here.” crowed Grams. “You getting them feelings over me?”

“Must be,”said Ike, “there’s a sparkle in the lady’s eye and there’s magic in her fingers.”

“I’m thinking you’re a horny old man.”

“I’m always on the lookout for a horny woman with young ideas.”

“Reckon you found her. Nice stand of wood you got there, Mr. Thomas.” “Strictly a parlor pecker Ma’am,” said Ike, “but it serves the purpose.”

“And what would that purpose be,” tittered Grams.

“To shoot for the moon and make a woman’s pussy purr.”

“To tell you the truth it tain’t my puss that’s got the itch.”

“You don’t say?”

“To tell the god’s awful truth, I’ve got a leaning toward having my back passage primed,” said Grams. “You got any objections to traveling the dirty back roads?”

“No Ma’am! I ‘ve always had a preference for rutting in the ruts of the Hershey Highway. Some of my favorite treks have been along that thoroughfare and I’m hoping that around one of your more dangerous curves a rosebud is waiting to be plucked.”

“Fucked is more like it,” tittered Grams. “In my golden years, I’ve preferred taking it up the old shitter. What this old lady truly craves is a good stiff cock up the old wazoo till I can’t walk straight.”

“I do admire a lady that talks my language,” beamed Ike.

“I’m a plainspoken woman.” said Grams. “I call a spade a spade.”

“A lady after my own heart,” said Ike, “but I’d call it a fucking shovel.”

Grams tittered. “I was afraid of upsetting you if I used the ‘F’ word too much.”

“From your lips, dear lady, ‘fuck me’ would sound like angel piss splashing on, a tin roof on a dark night.”

“That’s almost poetry,” said Grams.

“To be perfectly frank, I like feeling a piss pipe up my butt as well and giving it,” confessed Ike.

“I know,” said Grams. “I seen Jonny pounding your old, white ass and you was enjoying it.”

“And you still invited me for supper?” said Ike. “I’ll be good God Damned.” “You probably are,” said Grams, “And me too for what what we’re about to do.”

“Well bless my little parlor pecker,” said Ike, “Let’s get naked and have a party.”

“I’d be proud to do that little thing,” said Grams. “Are you ready?”

Ike stood and shucked the shoulder straps of is overalls and let them fall to his ankles. His erect cock, surrounded by white wiry hairs, parted his shirttails in front. “Time to unveil that perky ass of yourn.” He took her hand to help her stand.

Grams flipped the skirt of her dress up to the middle of her bare back, bent over the table and gripped the far edge of the tabletop. Elbows akimbo, her cheek rested on the oilcloth table covering. “All right,big man, climb these old bones and give that old shitter the poking it’s craving.”

“Ah-ha,” beamed Ike. “A brown and pink rosebud hidden in a valley as pure as the driven slush.”

“It’s a skinny old ass, but the hole is tight and I’m ready to be rode,” said Grams.

Ike shuffled to stand behind her spare, bare buns.

“You’ll find olive oil in that cut glass cruet,” directed Grams, “That cock of yourn might need a bit of slicking up. I already put a dab up where you’re expected.”

“You are a sly one,” said Ike. He poured a dab of oil in his palm and cupped it over the head of his cock and worked it down.

“Come on, old man, prong me,” hissed Grams. “Say some more nasty things to me and fuck my skinny ass silly!”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ike moved close and rubbed the head of his cock across the pucker a few times, then placed it dead center and moved his hips forward.”

“Whoo-ee,” breathed Grams, “You do take an old gals breath away with that big thang.”

“Like I said, it’s strictly a parlor pecker.” Ike moved forward until his balls rested against the edge of her pussy lips and paused. “Nice, tight pucker you got there, Lady.”

“Flatter will get you into me as far as you want to go, wherever you want to go.” said Grams.

“I’d say this about as far as I go with what I got,” said Ike.

“Then you better take it out and start over.”

“I was waiting a second so you can get used to it.”

“I been done before, old man, start your humping and plow me deep.”

I never saw anything like the way Old I ke pounded his dick into my grandma’s butt hole. He pounded into her and pounded into her. Grams’ fingers gripped the table edge and hung on to take everything the old man had to give. He stroked hard cock into that woman till I though he’d kill her for sure but she just kept pushing back, matching every stroke, asking for more.

“What’s the matter old man? My backdoor pussy taking the stiffening out of your pecker?”

“Jesus, fucking Christ! I’m coming,” groaned Ike. He pressed into her spare buttocks as hard as he could and froze.

“Fill my bowels,” croaked Grams, “and then let it soak a bit before we move into the other room.”

Ike wiped his brow with the fingers of his left hand. His right hand still strummed Grams’ clitty and she kept working her ass up against Ike’s crotch in a circular motion. “I can hang on if you can come again,” panted Ike, “but to tell the truth, this old man is about fucked to a frazzel.”

“Be there is a second.” Grams gritted her teeth. She gripped the far edge of the table until her knuckles turned white and she let out a long moan like I never heard from any human or animal I ever seen. Grams was cumming again and Ike was hanging on for dear life.

For the longest time, neither moved. It looked like Ike had collapsed on top of the old woman, his cock buried deep inside of her and she bore his weight without complaining.

Then the old woman’s eyes opened and she wriggled her ass. “Anybody alive back there?”

Ike groaned. “Speak for yourself, lady.”

“Feels to me like that little old thing of yours has shrunk some,” tittered Grams.

“I’ll wear the lining out that old asshole before I let you go,” grunted Ike and he shoved into her with all his strength.”

Grams raised her eyebrows and looked up to see me with my pecker out and in hand and watching them still at the kitchen table. “Maybe what you need is a stiff tool to massage your prostate.” She looked me in the eye. “Do you think you’d like that?”

I nodded as I stood in the dark and got out of my shoes and stepped out of my pants. I moved up behind Ike and I don’t think he ever heard me.

The cruet holding the olive oil was next to Grams’ hip and I managed to pour some in to my palm and coat my stiff cock. I approached Ike’s white, hairy ass as he was hunched over Grams and probing her as deep as he could. I aimed for his little brown spot between the spare butt cheeks and pressed forward to sink into him with one long, slow stroke.


“Something wrong?” asked Grams.

“I just been fucking cornholed,” muttered Ike.

“Bet it ain’t the first time,” said Grams.

I grabbed Ike by the hips and withdrew half of my cock and slammed it back into him. “You can bet on it, Grams. He loves it.”

‘Massaging a man’s prostate is good for him,” said Ike, “makes him feel like a man.”

“That’s what he told me yesterday, Grams,” I said as I slammed into him again. “And he took my tool like he was hungry for it.”

“Man ain’t a man till he’s had a stiff one up the old dirt chute,” said Ike.

“Fuck his old shitter good,” cackled Grams. “Make me feel what you’re doing to him.

“Man ain’t a man till he’s took it up the ass while he’s fucking a woman,” breathed Ike.

“He’s getting bigger, I swear my shitter can tell the difference,” said Grams

“You’re damn tooting,” gasped Ike, “I’m about to fill your scrawny ass with a load of cum.”

“Let me have it old man. Give it to me good.”

“Goodness gracious, Grams, how you do talk!” I gasped as I plowed old Ike's bowels.”

“It’s the way I’ve always talked, when I was getting my shitter shagged,” said Grams. “It brings out all the good feelings in me. I don’t care who knows it.”

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