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Me
and Grandpa
When I was a little younger, my parents got
divorced. My father opted to let my mother have basically full
custody, with visits with him on weekends or during the summer.
My mother worked nights as a waitress, and this left
me pretty much alone at home with my grandfather. You could
almost say that my grandfather raised me, since he was pretty much the
only adult with whom I came into regular, daily contact.
He and I used to sit and watch dumb ass movies on
cable — the same movies over and over again. We would sit
and eat popcorn and see if we could tell what lines the actors were
going to say next. It was kind of a game, kind of fun.
Grandpa always wore boxers around the house while we
watched television, and I would just wear a night dress. I would
sit at the foot of his chair, or beside him on the floor, mostly, since
we shared a bowl of popcorn.
One night, in turning to get some popcorn out of the
bowl in his lap, my hand grazed his bare leg. I noted with alarm
that, from my angle, I could make out the edge of his balls; his boxers
were lose and kind of sagging.
I could see a fleshy, hairy sac seeming to pull
downwards. I couldn’t fully see the orb of his testicle
outlined by the sac, just the very beginning of it.
I decided that I wanted to see more, and I decided
that I needed to quench the tingling I could feel in my pussy.
The sight of the edge of my grandfather’s testicle was turning me
on.
I moved my hand to his lap and scraped up a handful
of popcorn from the bowl, letting my hand drag across his boxers.
I succeeded in pulling his boxers up a little, showing more of his
hairy sac.
I wanted to see the whole thing. I wondered
what it looked like, what it would do. I wanted to touch and
fondle it while I played with my pussy.
I rested my hand in his lap, and after a moment, got
a handful of popcorn. I could feel him shift his
position. I guessed I was making him uncomfortable or something.
Moving a little closer to him, I let my hand rest on
his foot. I began innocently massaging his foot, then, his calf,
running my fingers lightly over the downy hair on his leg. I
squeezed a muscle here and there, really giving him a great massage.
Done with the popcorn, Grandpa moved the bowl to the
table beside the chair. As he leaned, I could see his testicle
fall completely out of the side of his boxers, and got a good view of a
fat, hairy piece of meat there. His public hair was black, only
slightly dotted with some gray. I wanted to see it all, to feel
of it, watch it grow and throb and maybe even other things. I
didn’t know what all I wanted. I just knew that my pussy
was very, very wet, I was tingling inside, and I wanted more
and more of it.
I moved my hand up a little, to his thigh. I
felt of the tiny, downy hairs on his thigh, and moved my hand to his
inner thigh.
“That feels good, Donna,” my grandfather
said. “You really have a gentle touch. It’s
almost therapeutic,”he added.
I took that as a message that I could really get
down and dirty, and moved my hand ever closer to his crotch, massaging,
rubbing, loving it.
Then, I felt his testicle hairs against my finger
tips as I moved ever closer to his crotch. I wanted to move my
fingers just a little closer, just a quarter in closer, and touch his
ball sac. The light wasn’t bright, but it wasn’t dim
in the living room. I could see very plainly now that there was a
rather large, long bulge in his boxers. His hard cock was
actually pulling the boxers apart where the hole was in the
middle. I could see the fleshy edge of his hard penis through the
hole. I looked
quickly at his face. His eyes were glued to the television set.
I couldn’t take it much longer, I
thought. I moved my fingers and touched, just briefly, the flesh
of his balls. I moved my fingers away in the same motion, as if
having done it by accident, or not really knowing or paying attention.
The bulge in his shorts was pulling the hem even
farther outward, and I could see just about his entire ball sac now,
and a bit of his hard dick. I wanted to simply reach in and touch
it, feel of its hardness in my hand. I wondered if he knew that I
was doing it on purpose, and I thought, of course he knew, but he
couldn’t let on that he knew. Then I thought, no, he
didn’t know, and didn’t want to say anything because he
didn’t want to embarrass me. All kinds of thoughts went
through my head, wondering what he was thinking. I wondered if he
knew that he had a hard on; I wondered if he knew that I was catching
glimpses of it, wanting to touch it, fondle it, and maybe, if he would
let me, maybe I could actually suck it and watch him cum.
I rubbed up and down his thigh, then to his crotch,
rubbing against his balls, each time, touching more and more of the
flesh of his sac. Then, I left my hand there, at his crotch, and
slowly moved to the base of his stiff dick.
He suddenly jerked, and I drew my hand away.
“Did that hurt?” I asked, my voice
shaking.
“Oh no, baby, not at all. That felt
good.”
“Want me to do it some more?”
He didn’t say anything, just kept staring at
the TV. However, he reached down and guided my hand, wrapping my
fingers around the hot, hard flesh of the base of his cock. Then,
he pushed my hand away, and slowly stood up. He pulled his boxers
down, his hard dick sticking straight out.
It was uncut, and fat. Not extremely long,
but it was fat, a really fat cock. He dropped his boxers to the
floor and stepped out of them, then sat back down in the chair. I
could now see all of him, his big, hairy balls, and the dark,
mysterious thatch of hair at the base of his dick. It was black,
slightly peppered with gray. His dick stuck straight up against
his stomach and throbbed, the head peeking out of the foreskin.
What a site that was. I reached out and touched the purple head
of it. It was smooth and warm to my touch, and Grandpa jumped a little
and moaned as I squeezed it.
He guided my hand then, wrapping my fingers around
the hot piece of hard flesh at the base of it, stroking up slowly, then
back down again. He let go, and I kept stroking. I stroked him slowly,
letting my fingers linger at the base, tickling his big balls.
He leaned farther back in the chair, scooting his
ass out, nearly laying down, spreading his legs. I moved between
his legs and used both hands on him, feeling of his big, fleshy, hairy
balls, and loving the sight of his rigid dick. I moved my lips to
the purple head of it, and slowly, carefully, sucked it into my mouth.
I moved a hand down and into my panties, and began
rubbing my clit.
His legs were shaking, and it seemed that his body
was moving with sudden jerks and spasms. I recognized those movements,
just like I had, before I was going to cum. I moaned and came, I
was so turned on. He shook even worse, and suddenly groaned as he
came. I pulled his dick out of my mouth and stroked it faster,
watching him cum.
He came, his hard cock jerking and spitting white,
sticky fluid all over my hand and arm, up into my face. He came and
came, and I kept stroking, watching his jerking dick in my hand,
watching the flood of cum shoot out and cover his stomach, my hand, my
face.
He was breathing hard, and my hand was still on his
cock. Suddenly, he said, “You came, too?”
“Yes.”
“I can make you cum,” he said, his voice
thick.
I stood and took off my night dress and panties, and
Grandpa looked at me with a look of awe in his face.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he
said, and touched me gently on the legs. Leaning forward with his face,
I felt his tongue on my thighs, then on my pussy. He pulled my pussy
lips apart gently, and I felt his tongue touch my clitoris. I came,
virtually moaning and screaming at the sudden sensation of his tongue
on my clit. I was in heaven. It had only taken about half a
minute for me to cum.
Every night after that, while Mom was at work, we
pretended to watch old movies. We even popped a bag of
popcorn. We never did fuck; we just played with each other, and
used our tongues.
I still see my grandfather now and then, and even
though married, there are times when we
sort of take off together...
— Name and location withheld.
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