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.
