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[A moment’s inspiration. Something hot and sweet, if not many pages. I hope you enjoy!]
“Michael? Your grandmother called. She would like some help clearing out her attic. I told her you’d be glad to help this Saturday.”
I groaned inwardly. I love my mom, but she had a habit of volunteering me for duties that I really would rather NOT do.
And don’t get me wrong — I love my Gram, too. But still, spending most of my weekend dragging around dirty old boxes just wasn’t something I looked forward to.
” ‘kay, Mom,” I mumbled and shuffled off to my room where I indulged in downloading porn and jerking off. I figured I’d reward myself in advance, since I’d miss out on time to do this during the weekend.
Saturday came and my mom dropped me off at my gram’s house — a quaint two-story on a quiet, tree-lined lane. The neighborhood had that all-American look: plenty of grassy lawns, each house different from the other (no blocks of look-alike, cookie-cutter urban sprawl); the Normal Rockwell of standard American neighborhoods.
“Michael!” my grandmother opened the screen door and welcomed me in with a tight hug. She smelled good, like apple pie and mild spices. It was a comfy smell, and I kissed her cheek and squeezed her back.
“Hiya, Gram,” I replied shyly. My grandmother’s affection always felt a bit overwhelming to me and made me contract in compensation. But I liked her, and so it wasn’t unwelcome.
My gram was an attractive woman, only in her early sixties, though slightly out of shape. Still, she wasn’t OLD old, you know?
“How about some cookies?” she asked with a glimmer. My gram knew my penchant for baked goods, and hers were among the best.
“Maybe later,” I said as I stepped in and adjusted to the dimmer interior. My gram kept the curtain drawn “to keep her cooling bills down.” I smiled and looked toward the hall. “Mom said you needed help moving things out of the attic?”
My gram nodded, her expression going apologetic and kind of sad. “Yes. I figured it would be good to get rid of your grand’s old things — knick knacks and whatnots, old clothes, that sort of thing.”
“Sure, Gram,” I said. “No problem. What should I look out for and what should I keep?”
My gram shrugged. “Oh, I’m not sure, really. Pictures I want to keep, of course. Any old photos or artwork. The rest, well, I’ll trust your judgment on what might be worth some money and what to donate.”
My grandfather had been an amateur painter, but not without skill. He supplemented his retirement with selling paintings — still-life and a few portraits — at the local flea market. It wasn’t much, but people enjoyed his paintings and it gave him some free spending money.
“Sure, no problem,” I repeated and headed to the attic.
The attic. Ah, such a place of mystery and some superstitious dread when I was a kid. Now, it seemed kind of — empty. Lonely. Devoid of life.
I looked around at the piles of books, stacks covered in old linens, and boxes of all sorts, and sighed. “Where do I start?” Since it didn’t seem to matter, I picked the closest pile and started in.
I spent time sorting things and dragging boxes downstairs for three groups: donate, toss, and possible sale. I was startled out of my focus when my gram said: “Here! Some cookies and milk!”
I smiled weakly, thrown by how much I’d lost track of time. I took the plate and glass from her and said, “Thanks, Gram,” and munched on a warm, chewy, chocolate chip cookie. “You just made these?”
“Well, I started before you arrived. But, yes, they’re fresh baked,” my gram said as she surveyed what I had cleared. “Oh, my, but you’re fast! You’ll be done görükle escort bayan in no time.”
“Oh, hardly done, but I might get a good start on it today. I can always come back tomorrow if need be.”
My gram pat my arm. “You’re a good boy,” she said and headed back downstairs.
I ate a few more cookies and had some milk. Well, soy milk — my gram had moved on into that realm of alternative “milks” years ago when I let her know I was lactose intolerant. Still, the sugar and liquid renewed my energy and I dove back in.
It was a little after midday when I moved aside some boxes and found a stack of paintings hidden under some drop cloth. The first few were some of my grand’s still-lifes — fruit bowls and flowers, that sort of thing — but under a few of those was a nude, and it was actually quite good!
“Whoa, Grand!” I muttered and drew the painting over to the sunlight coming in from the small shutter that let a bit of fresh air in. “This is actually pretty nice!”
I studied the painting. It was a woman, probably in her early thirties — slender and graceful. She had a lovely body, and looked vaguely familiar. I figured I’d ask my gram about it when I had the chance.
Under that were a few more still-lifes, and then a series of more nudes. The model was clearly the same, and in one she was posing with a younger female, probably late teens, and the two of them were caressing each other in a very lovely and sightly erotic manner.
“Grandpa!” I chuckled and set the series out where I could see them all in a line.
“Oh!” I heard my gram say and turned to find her looking embarrased. “I had forgotten all about those!” she said.
“You recognize them?”
My gram nodded and smiled shyly at me. “Of course!” she replied. “Who do you think modeled for him?”
I was stunned and looked back at the paintings. Now, of course, the resemblance fell into place. “That’s you?”
My gram laughed and said, “You don’t need to sound so surprised. I was quite a looker in my day!”
I smiled and apologized. “Sorry, Gram — I didn’t mean it that way. But, yeah…” I looked at the painting and then back at her again “… you really were. Are! You really are!” I tried to cover my blunder.
My gram bat my arm and grinned at me. She stood next to the pictures and imitated one of the poses. “I know I’m not as lovely as I used to be,” she said. “But I can still turn a head or two when I want. These still get plenty of attention, and not just by dirty old men!” she laughed as she cupped her large breasts through her dress.
I laughed with her and nodded. “Yeah, Gram, I can see that!” She brightened at the compliment, even if she didn’t take me seriously. I looked at the paintings again, and found myself feeling strangely aroused – just slightly! But it was odd because she was my grandmother, and I was ogling pictures of her from when she was younger and admittedly “hot”.
“You’re a good boy,” my gram said again and kissed my cheek as she left me to continue.
I stopped her and held up the painting with the other female in it. “And who is this?”
My gram gazed at me and her eyes grew mischievous. “Can’t you tell? That’s your mom,” she replied and grinned as she turned and left me alone.
I was stunned and stared at the painting. “Mom?” Again, I was able to see the resemblance, but also found myself examining her figure far longer than I was comfortable doing.
I set the paintings aside in the “keep” pile, and found myself glancing at them time and again as I worked. I knew my mom was attractive, and wasn’t surprised to see evidence of just how sexy she had been as a young altıparmak eskort adult, but the painting — more so than a photo might have since it was somehow more “artistic” — kept hold of my attention, and stirred odd feelings of arousal in me that I tried to bury in busyness.
I worked another hour or so and then took a break. My thoughts were obsessing over the series of nudes, and I was wondering if I might find more. My gram was pleased when I said I’d be back the next day to continue.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I was horny and unable to relax, so I went to my porn and jerked off. But my porn seemed so lifeless, so lacking in artistic merit, all of a sudden, and so it was not very satisfying when I finally came.
Sunday, I went over early to get a good start, and was delighted when I found some sketches of my grand’s — more nudes, but much more explicit nudes. Nudes of my gram spreading her pussy as she gazed down at herself. And sketches of my mom, naked, doing similar things — masturbating and relaxing in sunlight nude. They were lovely and terribly erotic, and I found myself getting really horny and aroused. I tucked those away where I could find them, but hidden in case my gram came up, which she did.
“How’s it going?” she asked and gave me more cookies and soy milk.
“Good!” I replied and wolfed them down. “I’m making good progress.”
“Find any more goodies?” my gran asked, and looked at me with playful interest.
I smiled and nodded. “Some, yeah,” I said. “But nothing of note.”
She nodded and left me. “Well, I’m sure you’ll know what to do with them if you find any more,” she muttered as she wandered off.
I returned to my task, moving boxes aside and taking some downstairs to get rid of or sold. I was getting discouraged when I found an old shoebox-sized container. It was tied, and I undid the string and opened it.
Inside were photos — mostly black and white, but some Polaroids — and they were also explicit nudes of my mom and my gram, and some of them together. Nothing overtly pornographic, but very erotic and sensual — pictures of them laying together, intertwining their hands or caressing each other’s belly’s or thighs or breasts. I was horribly aroused by them and pulled my cock out and started jerking off to them.
“Ah!” I heard my gram’s voice behind me along with a slight chuckle, alerting me to her presence. “I didn’t think about any of those,” she said and gazed at me with a strange amusement. She glanced down at my hard cock and smiled. “But I see they still have the same effect as when we took them!” she laughed.
I stared at her like a deer in headlights. “Gram!” I was too startled, and too caught, to hide or deny what I was doing.
“Oh, don’t worry,” my gram muttered and came closer to me. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she joked. She looked at me and reached down and gently put her hand on my cock. “May I?” she asked.
I was floored! I stood there stunned and numb as she got down on her knees and took my cock into her mouth.
“Ohhhhh, God, Gram…” I moaned. It felt so good!
My gram smiled and sucked on me really, really sweetly. “Glad you enjoy it,” she murmured and looked up at me with wickedly playful eyes. “How about giving your old gram a treat, huh? Why don’t you cum in my mouth?”
I was floored once again, both by the unexpected offer, and by the expertise of her oral skill. I nodded and struggled to stay standing as she sucked me into climax.
“Oh, God, Gram! Fuck!” I groaned as I flooded her mouth with jizz.
My gram took it all, letting me pump my load into nilüfer escort her mouth, and then swallowed it all down and cleaned my cock with her tongue. She stood up and wiped her lips and watched me with that same odd, wickedly playful gleam. “Thank you, Michael,” she said and smiled at me. “Though I think that was as much my treat as yours.”
I stared at her, in awe and in a whirlwind of confusion. I saw her both as my gram and as a terribly erotic older woman. A woman I was still hard for!
My gram watched me and stepped close to me, running her hands across my chest and down my arms.
“Is there something else you’d like?” she asked, her voice low and husky. “To fuck, maybe?” She smiled as she saw the desire in my eyes.
My gram took me by the hand and lead me downstairs to the guest room and laid me back on it. She undressed me and then herself, and smiled at my gaze as I watched her with new appreciation.
“Oh, Michael,” she murmured as she straddled me and took me into her pussy. “You’re very good for this old lady’s ego!”
My gram rode me slowly, but with growing urgency and passion, until she came, arching on me and then laying down on top of me. She kissed me, and it was a strange mix of a lover’s kiss and a more familiar, grandmotherly kiss.
“You’re very quiet,” my gram said to me as we lay together. “Everything alright?”
“We just had sex,” I said, more confused than guilty.
“Yes,” she replied. “And it was very nice. But it would be even better if you gave yourself to it.”
I stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” my gram said as she rolled onto her back and drew me into the male-dominant position, “FUCK me, Michael. Fuck my pussy!”
She got right to the heart of it, and made it clear she had no problem with the incest.
“FUCK, me, Michael,” she crooned, and drew her legs around my ass as I started to fuck her. “Fuck me until you cum!”
I picked up pace, and thrust harder and faster. I buried my face in her large breasts, and then I grabbed her and turned her over onto all fours and took her from behind.
“Oh, my gracious!” she gasped with delight. “Oh, yes!”
I fucked my gram hard from behind until I came, driving my cock deep inside of her. I felt the hot backwash of my jizz and then the slow dribble of it as it crept out of her pussy along my shaft.
“Oh, my sweet Michael!” she exclaimed as she slid off of me and got down and licked my cock clean. “Oh, what a pleasure!” she muttered as she licked up our combined cum.
When she was done, my gram drew me down to her and cradled me, holding me close and caressing me.
“Oh, but that was lovely!” she murmured and kissed my head. “It has been a long time since I’ve had sex so sweet!”
I was returning to reality, and felt uncertain of how to hold all of this. It felt wrong, but also felt so terribly good!
I studied her. She was still my gram, but she was also someone new, someone sexy, and I could see the younger, sexy model she had been still there in her.
“Gram?” I said. “You and mom — did you ever…?”
My gram laughed and caressed my face. “Oh, goodness, yes. We all did! Your grand, me, our daughter.”
I let that sink in, and felt a new stirring at the thought of my mom, naked and sexual, giving head, licking pussy — it made me very horny, very fast.
“Oh! Look who’s ready for more!” my gram laughed and grasped my hard cock. She rolled me onto my back and mounted me again. “Is it thinking about your mommy and me that’s got you so worked up?”
I nodded, and growled. “Yes!”
She chuckled and rode me hard, her tits bouncing up and down. “Ha! It is sweet, isn’t it?”
We fucked for hours that afternoon. I promised to return the following weekend, and my gram kissed me lovingly before I left.
“Say hello to your mom for me!” she laughed and winked as I walked to my car.
“I will!” I answered, and grinned wickedly as I drove home. “I certainly will!”
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