Another with comments and voting turned off. As with the past few scenes, I disabled those features because this is supposed to be fun. I’m not arsed about critical points in the piece. Having said that, I apologise for any typos and errors in the text. it’s unedited, etc. I just write the scenes and out them up to share. It’s practice.
Anyway, I hope the inevitable errors don’t detract from any enjoyment.
Thanks for reading.
GA – Cambridgeshire, UK – 11 July 2021
***
It shocked me to hear it.
“You don’t mean it,” I said, gasping it out.
We were in the back garden. I was in shorts and training shoes because of the heat while my grandmother was wearing a light summer dress. I’d been mowing the lawns, sat on the ride-on, keeping to the lines like she’d told me to, killing the engine when I saw her approaching with two glasses of water in hand.
My grandmother had offered a glass as the mower sputtered into silence. I thanked her and took the glass, gulping a pint in three or four swallows.
I’d made a comment about how warm it was. She’d tutted and rolled her eyes, agreeing with me.
“It’s not so bad for you,” my grandmother had added, her attention on my bare chest. “You can get away with wearing next to nothing. Look at you, those tiny shorts, you’re almost naked.”
Then she’d paused, amusement twinkling behind her eyes as she’d grinned.
“Actually,” my grandmother had drawled after the pause, “if you weren’t here…” Another pause followed, after which she ‘d finished with: “…I’d be cavorting around in the nude.”
I’d gawked, stunned by the admission, not entirely sure it wasn’t a joke. My grandmother’s personality and attitude leans towards being light-hearted and fun. She’s mischievous, quick-witted with a joke or one-liner. It was inappropriate of her to say it, but not entirely out of character, a factor which made me stare for a moment before I decided she was kidding, a quick, nervous chuckle bubbling forth as I shook my head.
Going along with the joke, I’d put in: “Be a surprise if you had a delivery or something, gran.”
To which my grandmother humphed and shrugged, slowly nodding as a smirk arrived on her lips in place of the grin. She looked at me with something sly in her expression before taking her lower lip between her teeth, devilment in the look.
“You know, it’s just us up here,” my grandmother said, slow and deliberate as she started off. She paused and gave a half-shrug, almost shy when she added: “And it’s so-bloody-warm… I wouldn’t mind being naked. It’ would feel so good to be bare if a little breeze picks up.”
It was disturbing to pick up on her tone, sensations slipping loose inside me. I felt the weirdness in what she was saying, understood the wrongness in it, knew my cheeks were red with embarrassment but, at the same time, experienced a fantasy-reel rolling across my mind’s-eye where the images set dark carnal urges to work inside me.
My cock thickened and grew. I was nineteen, my mind never far from sex. I was vaguely aware of my grandmother’s physical, aesthetic appeal. To my eyes she’s a good-looking lady. Homey-blonde hair in a bobbed style, blue eyes, quick smile, the prettiness in her face complemented by a lush, ripe, voluptuous figure. My grandmother is one of those well-endowed ladies padded with middle-age while still shapely and generous at the bust. I’d never sexualised my grandmother but still recognised her body was all feminine curves, her legs well-crafted and pleasing to my eye through her thighs and calves. Up until the afternoon in the back garden it had only been a vague, hazy notion that my mother’s mother was extremely attractive. There was something in the way she moved, the way she held herself poised. I’d seen sexiness in her expression and the twinkling in her eyes, noticed her large breasts sometimes rolling and swaying in her blouse, or tit-flesh bubbling at the bodice of her dress.
I’d never gone as far as tugging my dick to masturbatory fantasies about my grandmother, but still saw she had it all going on. I’d seen her flirt with tradesmen, her sexual allure working on them as they bantered to-and-fro. She knew how far to go, gave them just enough to make them silly as she bantered and giggled, a hand on one hip and her bosom thrust out.
I had all that running through my head, my cock at full tumescence, confusion swirling within when my grandmother had reinforced the notion of being naked by grinning at me while using that pose with her hand on her hip and her bosom shoved towards me as she’d uttered the life-altering question.
“Don’t you fancy it, Sammy? Taking those shorts off? It’s just bare skin,” my grandmother had said with another half-shrug. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Which is when I’d gasped: “You don’t mean it.”
A pause as I stared at her before: “Mm, well, the thing is, Sammy. I do.”
Then she sighed and gestured around the expanse of lawn, five acres of lush green grass and the apple orchard all the way to fence.
“What’s the harm? Nobody can see.”
She was right about that. The eight-foot-high bramble hedge and twelve-foot fence had us closed in. It was half-a-mile across heather and woodland to the nearest house beyond the fence while out in front, the long driveway, high wrought-iron gate, imposing brick wall, and intercom meant early warning of any deliveries or unexpected visitors. The family all had fob access through the gates, but a buzzer warning the gates were opening would give us plenty of time to dress if anyone did turn up.
I was gawking at her, stunned as my grandmother looked at me and gave another half-shrug.
“What do you think? Would you like to go bare?”
I reacted with the obvious by stuttering out: “But you’re my… I mean… Wuh-we couldn’t.”
My grandmother responded by offering me a spoilt-girl pout.
“Why couldn’t we, Sammy? What’s to stop us? Really?”
“You’re my grandmother,” I spluttered, blurting it out, incredulous.
My grandmother tutted and rolled her eyes.
“There are whole families who go to nudist colonies, Sammy,” she said, cool and logical. “Don’t be such a prude. It’s perfectly natural.”
I could feel the hard-on squashed up inside my shorts and underwear.
“It… it’s a bit weird,” I said.
“That’s because you’re confusing nudity with sex. You’re lumping it all together,” my grandmother said. “It’s not like that, Sammy. Trust me, when I’m naked out here…”
She gestured around the lawns and orchard with another sweep of one arm.
“I feel so free,” my grandmother added as she looked at me. “It’s marvellous, darling. Come on. We should try it. I can’t do it on my own. Me nude while you’re clothed? Now, that would be a little odd.”
Mindful to the erection, I shook my head.
“Oh, Sammy, please. I’m stifling.”
My grandmother gave me the puppy-eyes and fanned herself with the tips of her fingers.
“I… I can’t,” I said, willing her to stop.
“Just a little minute,” my grandmother persisted. “Half-an-hour. Just to try. If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop.”
“Why are you pushing it, gran?”
“Because it’s a lovely day. The sun’s out. I want to be nude.”
She had the spoilt-girl pout curling her lower lip as she looked at me. She probably knew I was wavering, close to bending to her will despite deep misgivings, my erection uppermost in my mind.
“I… I sort of know what you mean,” I said, struggling for an excuse. “But, come on, gran, it’s pervy. What would grandad say…? Or my mum?”
My grandmother rolled her eyes as she sighed. “Well, your grandfather does it, too. But that’s beside the point. Thing is, I won’t be telling him, Sammy. Nor your mother. I don’t think they’d approve. You’re probably right about that. But, well, I still want to do it. We don’t have to tell.”
I gulped because, suddenly, I wanted to do it. I was curious about my grandmother’s body, about what her boobs were really like. I could see the promise in their size but couldn’t help thinking about her nipples.
“Uh, you know, all right, I’m getting used to the idea,” I said as weird sensations worked inside me. “It sounds like it could be great — what you said about being free and everything.”
My grandmother’s eyes went wide as a smile broadened across her face. Delighted, she gasped: “Oh God, Sammy, do you truly think you could do it?”
My cheeks were burning when I nodded. “Uh, yeah, I could, but…”
My grandmother frowned, focus on my face.
I closed my eyes when she asked: “But what? What’s the matter?”
I shrugged and wished the fire in my cheeks would cool.
“You don’t need to be shy,” my grandmother was saying. “I told you, it’s all right, it’s natural to be naked. Out here, nobody can see. There’s no harm.”
“Uh-huh, I heard you,” I said, eyes open.
My attention shifted away from her face as I looked at the orchard, vaguely appraising the lines in the lawn while embarrassment at my predicament squeezed my guts.
“It… it’s just a bit awkward right now,” I finished.
I heard the surprise in her tone when my grandmother blurted: “Oh! Oh goodness!”
She was staring at me when I dared to look at her face and I saw her mouth hanging open for a second or two before she grinned.
“Sammy, are you saying…?”
There was an odd coyness about my grandmother when she said it, demeanour halfway flirty and amused.
“It’s just… It… I can’t help it,” I mumbled as I looked away.
“Oh, sweetheart, I understand that,” my grandmother said through a sigh. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. I didn’t expect…”
Humiliation ran hot when she paused. I closed my eyes again. “I don’t think I can do it,” I said. “I… I better get on and finish the mowing.”
I heard my grandmother sigh when I handed her the glass.
“Come on, Sammy,” she said after I thanked her for the water. “I’m not bothered by your… uhm… condition. It’ll go away. It’s just a reaction.”
When I stared at her I grimaced and shook my head.
My grandmother tutted and rolled her eyes, then moved in closer, ignoring the glass I was offering as she reached out to touch my shoulder.
“I’m not going to be shocked by it, Sammy,” my grandmother said. “I’ve seen a man’s penis before. I’ve had two children, sweetheart,” she added. “It’s nothing new.”
My face was still on fire when I said: “Yeah, but, come on. This is different.”
“Okay, all right, listen,” my grandmother said, short and sharp as an old-fashioned schoolmarm.
She was suddenly all about no-nonsense, her attitude as if she were scolding me for some misdemeanour.
Then my grandmother said: “Just stop being silly. It’s all perfectly fine. I promise, Sammy. You’re making this into something it’s not. It really isn’t anything to be ashamed about. At your age… well, that’s bound to happen. You’re programmed that way. It’s just hormones and nature.”
“But you’re my grandmother,” I said on a groan of near despair.
“So I am. And I told you, I don’t mind. I’d prefer to be naked, that’s all. I don’t want to wear this dress. Stop being such a fuss-pot, Sammy. It’s only a penis. I’m not going to laugh or tell you off.”
I weakened, somehow convinced when I looked at my grandmother and saw her gentle smile.
She nodded when I asked: “Uh, you sure?”
“Quite sure.”
“So… so how do we do it? Do I just take my shorts off here?”
I could feel my hands trembling when my grandmother pouted and gave another half-shrug.
“We could get all modest and turn our backs,” she said. “But, in the end, we’re going to see each other in the buff so…?
“You won’t be mad because I’m…? It’s…?”
“No, I told you, silly,” my grandmother said through an exasperated sigh.
She shook her head when I said: “Yeah, but–”
“You said you would,” my grandmother said, cutting me off.
She paused, rolled her eyes, and canted her head towards one shoulder.
On a murmur, my grandmother added: “So, what do you say? Shall we just strip off now? Right here. Just get it over with, Sammy?”
I gulped as a pulse of excitement squeezed my cock. “It… it’s a bit weird,” I breathed.
She must have seen something in my face, or heard it in my voice — or maybe it was both — because my grandmother looked at me with a sly, vulpine smirk on her lips, her tone clotted and thick when she said: “It’s a bit naughty, isn’t it, Sammy? Is that what you mean?”
I gulped again, appalled yet thrilled as a blanket of clandestine sensations enveloped me.
“Uh-huh, a bit,” I said just above a whisper.
“It’s just us being bare,” my grandmother said, that smirk setting my insides swirling. “It doesn’t mean a thing. It’s only us being free.”
I heard what she said but thought I recognised the lie. It occurred to me in that moment that my grandmother was feeling it too, that whatever excitement was surging through my cock might be squeezing her vitals. There was an oddness in her eyes, something off in her tone. She was going for innocent and unconcerned but wasn’t convincing enough to make me truly believe.
Then I dismissed the notion as absurd. She meant what she said. I was reading more into it because my own body was thrumming with dark need and inappropriate urges.
On a final show of reluctance, I asked: “You sure it’s all right?”
“Absolutely,” my grandmother said as she nodded and then leaned forward to put her glass onto the lawn.
I saw her breasts sway, flesh bubbling over the cups of her bra when I looked into the gape at the neck.
I passed her my glass when she said: “Here, give me that. Get off the mower.”
I was climbing off the machine as my grandmother put my glass next to hers, a sense of the surreal settling upon me.
Then we were looking at each other.
“Hmm, all right, so,” she said.
My grandmother raised her eyebrows at me, her focus on my shorts.
“Shit,” I muttered, not believing I was doing it when my fingers went to the button.
“Mm-hmm,” my grandmother said, eyes wide as she nodded at me. “Down they go, Sammy.”
At the same time, my grandmother shrugged the dress from her shoulders. She let it fall, teasing me with her smirk and amusement in her expression as she reached back, unclasped her bra, and held it to her bosom.
By then I was gawking, shocked despite knowing she was going to show me her body.
“Come on, drop ’em,” my grandmother said with a chuckle as she thrust her chin at me.
“You first,” I said, emboldened by a sudden surge of lust.
“Mm, all right, they’re only tits,” I heard her mutter.
Then I was staring, entranced by the size of my own grandmother’s bare breasts. I gasped because I thought they were magnificent: obviously heavy, not as high and tight as they must have been when she was younger, but shapely enough to set a thrill rippling through me. I gazed at my grandmother’s nipples, the large pebbles set in the saucers of their areolae, those discs only slightly darker than the pale skin surrounding them.
“I’m keeping my knickers on until you’re naked,” my grandmother was saying, her voice coming at me from a long way off.
“Oh,” I heard myself say on what was close to a groan.
My grandmother grinned, eyes feline slits. “What’s wrong, Sammy? Don’t you like your old granny’s big knockers?”
In an action which set the urge to touch her surging though me, my grandmother hefted both orbs in her palms, squeezing so the flesh spilled over her fingers. They swung when she let them go, the jiggle and sway sending another pulse through my cock.
“They’re lovely,” I breathed without meaning to say it.
“Heard that before,” my grandmother said as she rolled her eyes. Then she tutted and added: “Nearly forty years. Men have always ogled my breasts. Caused me some bother, too,” she added. “When I was younger.”
I gawked some more, somehow supressing the urge to move in and feel their weight.
My grandmother drew my focus back to her face as she said: “So, now you. I told you, my knickers stay on until you’re naked. You’ve seen my breasts but, well, a quim is so much more intimate than boobs.”
I gulped when I heard her use the old-fashioned phrase, excitement a visceral squeeze.
I unzipped and shoved my shorts to my knees, underwear going down at the same time and, as my clothing fell to my feet, I saw my grandmother’s attention lock on my cock.
Then she muttered: “Oh, dear God. Jesus, Sammy, you weren’t kidding. That looks painful it’s so hard.”
My cock was fully erect, the shaft a long jut of my arousal, the bulb swollen to the size of a plum, pre-cum glistening at the end.
“No, don’t hide it,” my grandmother blurted when I went to cover my size with my hands. “Sweetie,” she added before she paused and held her bottom lip between her teeth. Her gaze was set on my cock, a light shining in her eyes as she glanced at my face a chuckle issuing forth. “That’s impressive,” my grandmother added. “God, I knew you were excited but…”
“I can’t help it,” I gasped as conflicting sensation battled inside me.
I was thrilled by my grandmother’s reaction, proud by her appreciation of my size while also embarrassed by the exposure, self-conscious because she was staring.
“I suppose I should take it as a compliment,” she said with a shrug. “At my age… and I’m not exactly a skinny young thing. I wouldn’t have expected a response like that from a good-looking youngster like you.”
If she was fishing, I bit. “You’re lovely,” I breathed.
Which made her smile.
“You’re quite delicious yourself.”
As she said it, she hooked her thumbs into the waist of her underwear, pausing while looking at me before she shoved her knickers to her thighs.
My world unravelled as my grandmother posed, underwear stretched tight, a hammock from knee-to-knee, her smooth, hairless vulva a magnet for my eyes. Desire and dark urges slipped free from their moorings as I stared, need squeezing my guts.
“Mm, well, I think you like your old gran,” my grandmother said. “The look on your face…”
“I didn’t know,” I sighed.
“Know what?”
“That you… uh…” I said, nodding towards her.
My grandmother looked down over her own frontage before she looked at my face. “What? Shave it?”
I gulped and nodded.
“It feels cleaner that way. I like it.”
I shifted my focus to her breasts.
She frowned when I stammered: “Can… can I touch them?”
It came out of me on a gurgle, a half-chocked sound of desire as I soaked up the detail of my grandmother’s endowment.
“Oh, Sammy,” she said on a sigh. “If I let you touch them, where do we draw the line?”
“I know I just–”
My grandmother cut me short by raising a hand. Then she closed her eyes, pulling a face like she was wincing in pain.
“Mm, don’t, Sammy,” she said. “I know how it feels. I feel it too. You’re all hot and bothered. You’re randy. And I know a bit about randy men. You’ll say anything to get what you want. Make promises… Tell me anything.”
She was right about hot and bothered. I was hard and full of need for my grandmother’s body. I wanted to touch; I wanted to feel; I wanted to suck her nipples and slide my fingers into her cunt…
“I only want to touch them,” I gasped. “For a second. That’s all.”
My grandmother rolled her eyes, tutting as she shifted around so her underwear fell to the tops of her feet.
She was stepping free when she said: “Touching is sexual. We’re only supposed to be naked. That’s about us being natural and free. You touching my boobs…? Sammy, that’s a step over the line. Like I said, where do we draw that line?”
My grandmother paused and stared at me, time stretching elastic.
“You touch my boobs,” she went on. “I’ll want to touch your tummy.”
I looked down to my stomach, the jut of my cock a robust jib.
“I love a young man with a washboard stomach,” my grandmother added. “If you touch my breasts, I’ll want to touch your tummy. What happens after that?”
“Uh, nothing,” I gasped.