The air in the house hung thick with the scent of lavender and old secrets. My hormones had been a raging storm lately, turning familiar faces into forbidden landscapes. Every time Mom bent over the laundry basket, or Becky stretched in her sleep shirt, a jolt of something illicit shot through me. I knew it was wrong, twisted, but that didn’t make it any easier to control.
Mom had started noticing the way I looked at her, a subtle shift in her expression – a furrowed brow, a lingering gaze. It was a dangerous game, and I was playing with fire.
One afternoon, I was supposedly helping Mom with dinner. In reality, I was trying not to stare at the way her jeans hugged her hips as she reached for something in the high cabinet.
“You okay, honey?” she asked, turning around, a wooden spoon in her hand. “You seem a little… preoccupied lately.” Her eyes, usually warm and inviting, held a flicker of concern.
My throat went dry. “Yeah, Mom, just tired. School’s been rough. Exams coming up, you know?” I hated lying to her, but the truth was too terrifying to even whisper.
She studied me for a beat too long. “Well, why don’t you go relax for a while? I can handle dinner. You look like you need it.”
I practically tripped over myself getting out of the kitchen, the guilt a hard knot in my stomach. I needed to get a grip, find some way to steer these thoughts away from the people I loved.
Later that evening, Becky bounced down the stairs, heading out with friends. She was wearing a short denim skirt and a bright pink tank top. My eyes involuntarily followed her, drawn to the curve of her legs. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t seem to look away.
She caught me staring and stopped, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “What’s up, creep? Taking inventory?”
Heat flooded my face. “Nothing,” I mumbled, turning away.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mom called from the kitchen, her voice echoing through the house.
The aroma of roasted chicken filled the air, but my appetite had vanished. I picked at my food, acutely aware of Mom’s eyes on me. She was watching, observing, trying to decipher the changes in her son.
“So,” she began, breaking the strained silence, “Grandma called today. She wants us to come visit this weekend.”
A wave of dread washed over me. Grandma’s house was small, packed with memories and floral wallpaper. Being cooped up there with Mom and Becky, my thoughts a constant battleground, felt like a recipe for disaster.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I have a ton of homework. Plus, I promised I’d help Mark with his car.”
“Nonsense Mike,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “A weekend with family will do you good. Besides, Grandma’s been asking about you. She says she misses her favourite grandson.”
Becky snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re just the tallest one who can reach the cookies on the top shelf.”
Mom just smiled and rolled her eyes. “She needs the visit. She’s been a bit lonely since Grandpa passed. Though, she has been keeping herself busy.”
“Busy?” I asked, a strange curiosity bubbling to the surface.
Mom sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “Oh, you know Grandma. She’s always been a bit of a flirt. She enjoys the company of younger men. Nothing serious, just friendly conversation. Keeps her young, I guess.”
Becky chimed in, “Friendly conversation? Last time I was there, she was practically glued to this college kid who was supposedly helping her with her garden. He looked like he was barely out of high school! She was batting her eyelashes like a pro.”
The image of Grandma, usually so prim and proper, suddenly morphed in my mind. It was unsettling, disturbing, and yet… strangely intriguing. A dark, twisted part of me wondered what that “friendly conversation” really entailed.
“Well,” I said, forcing myself to sound indifferent, “as long as she’s happy.”
Saturday morning arrived with a leaden weight. We packed the car in silence, the air thick with unspoken tension. Mom smiled tightly and said, “Alright you two, let’s hit the road and get this show on the road”.
The drive to Grandma’s house felt like a slow descent into a nightmare. I retreated into the back seat, headphones on, trying to drown out the voices in my head. The image of Grandma with a younger man refused to leave me, mingling with my own shameful thoughts about Mom and Becky. I closed my eyes, willing the thoughts away, desperate to regain control before it was too late.
As we turned onto Grandma’s street, I braced myself. The quaint little house, usually a haven of warmth and familiarity, suddenly felt like a trap. Grandma was already on the porch, waving enthusiastically, her face creased with a welcoming smile. She looked just as I remembered – small, frail, with twinkling eyes and a neatly coiffed silver bun. But now, the image was tainted, viewed through a lens of shame and distorted desire. Could I even look her in the eye without feeling like a complete monster?
“Oh my lovely,” Grandma greeted us. “Mike you grown. Oh wow.”
She pulled me into a hug, I could feel her huge breasts squish to my chest, her lavender perfume a less potent, yet somehow more pervasive, version of what lingered in our house. It clung to me as I disentangled myself, a fragrant reminder of everything I was trying to suppress.
“And Becky, my sweet girl, you’re even more beautiful than the last time,” Grandma gushed, pulling Becky into a similar embrace. “You’ll have all the boys lining up, I’m sure!”
Becky giggled, that carefree sound grating on me now. “Grandma, you always say that!”
She wasn’t wrong even though she is my sister she was hot as fuck.
As we settled into Grandma’s house, the atmosphere felt even more suffocating than I’d anticipated. Every creak of the floorboards, every floral-patterned cushion, seemed to whisper my secrets back at me. Grandma fussed over us, offering tea and cookies, her eyes scanning our faces with an unnerving intensity. I found myself avoiding her gaze, terrified of what she might see reflected back.
Later that afternoon, Mom suggested a walk in the garden. Becky, predictably, found an excuse to stay inside and text her friends. Leaving me alone with Mom and Grandma to tour the garden
As we strolled amongst the roses, Grandma, in her floral dress and sensible shoes, began to reminisce about Grandpa. “He was a good man,” she said, a wistful smile playing on her lips. “But he wasn’t always the most… adventurous. Always content with the familiar, you know?”
I didn’t know, not really. My own desires felt anything but content.
Mom, ever the observant one, placed a hand on Grandma’s arm. “He loved you, Mom. That’s what mattered.”
Grandma squeezed Mom’s hand in return. “Yes, he did. And I loved him. But… sometimes, a girl needs a little excitement, a little spark.” She said it with a mischievous glint in her eye, the kind that a teenager has when they are about to do something they shouldn’t be doing.
I started to eye Grandma up a bit and omg she noticed, she noticed a lot and she seemed to enjoy it.
My stomach churned. The “spark” she spoke of felt like a live wire, dangerously close to igniting a firestorm.
Mom, oblivious to the shifting dynamics, continued the conversation. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding ways to keep yourself happy, Mom. It’s important.”
“Oh, I am,” Grandma said, her gaze flickering between Mom and me. “Very happy indeed.” She paused, then turned directly to me, her eyes locking onto mine. “You seem a little…troubled, Michael. Is everything alright?”
I swallowed hard, the lie forming on my lips. “Yeah, Grandma, fine. Just…stressed about school.”
She studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “School, hmm? Young men have other things on their minds too, I imagine.” Her tone was laced with a knowingness that sent shivers down my spine.
Later that day as we were about to leave I really didn’t want to go I was intrigued I wanted to see how wild she really was.
“Oh I will miss you all, I guess I am used to being alone.” She said folding her arms and standing by the car.
“Mom, what if I stay the weekend with her,” I said, not sure why I said it but deep down I had naughty thoughts. “Only if Grandma wants me to.”
Mom looked surprised, a flicker of concern again crossing her face, quickly masked by a smile. “Well, that’s very thoughtful of you, Michael. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be home studying?”
“I can study here, Mom. Besides, Grandma seems a bit lonely.” It was a half-truth, a flimsy excuse to mask the tangled mess of feelings swirling inside me. The real reason was a dark curiosity, an urge to understand the secrets hidden beneath Grandma’s prim exterior, and perhaps, to confront my own twisted desires in the process.
Grandma’s eyes widened, a spark of something almost playful igniting within them. “Oh, would you really? That would be lovely, Michael. I’d enjoy the company.” She smiled, a genuine, warm smile that somehow felt…different now. It felt like an invitation to something I didn’t fully comprehend.
Becky, who had been silently observing the exchange, raised an eyebrow. “Whatever floats your boat, I guess. Just don’t expect me to miss you too much.” She gave me a knowing smirk as if she suspected the real reasons behind my sudden desire to stay.
After a flurry of hurried goodbyes and last-minute instructions from Mom, the car pulled away, leaving me standing on the porch beside Grandma. The air felt suddenly thick, charged with unspoken possibilities.
“Come now, dear,” Grandma said, placing a surprisingly firm hand on my arm. “Let’s get you settled in. We have a whole weekend to catch up.”
Later that night I was in the spare room and I got down to my boxers. I pretended to go see if Grandma was ok as I walked to her room and knocked on the door.
“Grandma? Is everything alright?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
A moment of silence hung in the air before a soft, “Come in, dear,” drifted from within.
The room was dimly lit, illuminated by a small bedside lamp that cast long, dancing shadows on the floral wallpaper. And there she was, Grandma, propped up against a mountain of pillows in her bed.
But this wasn’t the prim and proper Grandma I knew.
Gone was the floral dress, replaced by a low-cut, satin nightgown that barely contained her ample bosom. The fabric shimmered in the soft light, drawing attention to the deep valley of her cleavage. Her big breasts strained against the material, pushing upwards, creating a breathtakingly sexy display. I could see the faint outline of her nipples pressing against the satin, and a wave of heat washed over me.
She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling with an almost mischievous glint. “Michael, dear. Is everything alright?” Her voice was softer now, almost husky.
I swallowed hard, struggling to find my voice. “Uh…yeah, Grandma. I just… I wanted to make sure you were comfortable.” It was a lame excuse, and I knew it.
She chuckled softly, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down my spine. “Comfortable? Oh, I’m perfectly comfortable, dear. Perhaps a little…lonely. What is on your mind, because by the looks of it a lot.”
She was staring at my crotch, I looked down and I had a hard-on tenting through my boxers.
My face flushed crimson. I wanted to disappear, to rewind time and erase this mortifying moment. Every instinct screamed at me to flee, to slam the door shut and pretend this never happened.
But I was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by a mixture of shame, fear, and an undeniable, forbidden arousal. Grandma’s gaze remained fixed on my… predicament, her expression a complex blend of amusement and something I couldn’t quite decipher. It was like she was studying me, analyzing me, stripping away all my pretence and seeing me for who I truly was: a confused, conflicted young man wrestling with desires he couldn’t understand.
“So,” she said, her voice a low purr that seemed to vibrate through the air, “It seems you’re not quite as relaxed as you pretended, dear. What are you thinking about, Michael?”
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. It was a challenge, a dare, and a confession all rolled into one. She knew what I was thinking about, or at least, she had a damn good idea. And she was inviting me to admit it, to cross a line I knew I shouldn’t even be approaching.
I stammered, trying to formulate a coherent response, but the words caught in my throat. “Grandma… I… I don’t know what to say.”
She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent another shiver down my spine. “Then perhaps you should say nothing at all. Sometimes, actions speak louder than words, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Mind if I get in with you, maybe we can… talk,” I said not sure what I was doing.
Grandma’s smile widened a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Of course, dear. Come, sit with me.” She patted the space beside her on the bed, the satin of her nightgown rustling softly with the movement. I hesitated for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest.
This was wrong, so wrong. But the pull of forbidden desire was too strong to resist. Slowly, I made my way to the bed, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet. I sat down beside her, the heat of her body radiating through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She turned to face me, her eyes searching mine.
“Michael, I’ve seen the way you look at me, at your mother, at Becky. I know what’s been going on in that head of yours.” Her voice was low, conspiratorial. “You’re confused, aren’t you?”
Her hand went under the blanket and placed on my bare thigh. She slowly made her way up to my crotch where my cock was throbbing. Without thinking I put my hand to the waistband of my boxers and pulled them down just a little to free my hard cock.
“Here is what I am thinking Grandma,” I smirked and she smiled.
Grandma’s eyes widened as my hard cock sprang free, the thick shaft bobbing slightly in the cool air of the bedroom. Her gaze locked onto it, a mixture of surprise and appreciation flickering across her features. She licked her lips unconsciously, her hand hovering just inches away from my throbbing member.
“Well, well,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “It seems you’re quite the grown-up man now, aren’t you, Michael?” Her fingers inched closer, the warmth of her hand radiating against my skin.”So big and hard…and all for little old me?”
She wrapped her hand around my shaft, her grip firm and confident. I gasped at the sudden contact, my hips jerking forward instinctively. Grandma’s thumb brushed over the sensitive head, spreading the bead of precum that had gathered there.
My hand went up her thigh under the blanket and up her nightie to her panties. “Do you like my cock, Grandma, your hands are soft feels good.”
“Oh, Michael…” she breathed, her fingers tightening around my shaft. “You have no idea how long it’s been since I’ve felt a man’s touch. Want me to take my panties off for you naughty boy.”
Grandma slowly slid her panties down her legs, revealing her bare mound. Her pubic hair was neatly trimmed, a silver thatch contrasting with the smooth, pale skin of her thighs. She parted her legs slightly, inviting my gaze.
“Come here, Michael,” she whispered, guiding my hand between her legs. “Feel how wet I am for you. Get on top of me.”
I climbed on top of her, my hard cock pressing against her wet pussy. Grandma wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. I could feel the heat radiating from her core, the slickness of her arousal coating my shaft. She looked up at me, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire, and nodded.
Slowly, I pushed forward, the head of my cock slipping inside her. We both gasped at the sensation, the tight warmth enveloping me. I paused, letting her adjust to my size, before slowly sinking deeper. Grandma’s nails dug into my back, her breath coming in short gasps as I filled her completely.
“Oh, Michael,” she moaned, her voice trembling. “You’re so big. I’ve missed this so much. Ahh your naughty grandson.”
I began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in. Grandma met my movements, lifting her hips to take me deeper.
“Harder, Michael,” she gasped, her nails raking down my back. “Fuck me harder. Show your grandma what a man you’ve become.” Her words spurred me on, and I increased my pace, my hips slamming against hers with growing fervour. The room filled with the sounds of our coupling – the slap of flesh against flesh, our ragged breaths, and Grandma’s increasingly loud moans.
“Yes, yes, YES! “she cried out, her old pussy felt good. I pushed her nightie up further.
“Oh you feel good Grandma, oh fuck… oh no bra, Mmmm.” As I continued to pump my dick in and out of her old pussy I sucked her wrinkled tits.
Grandma’s body trembled beneath me, her large breasts bouncing with each thrust. I leaned down, capturing one of her nipples in my mouth. It was soft and wrinkled, the areola a darker shade of pink. I sucked gently, my tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. Grandma arched her back, pressing herself further into my mouth.
“Oh, Michael,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in my hair. “That’s it, baby. Suck on Grandma’s tits while you fuck her. You’re doing so well.” I switched to her other breast, giving it the same attention.
“Can’t believe I am having sex with you… ahh fuck, you sure it’s ok,” I said as I continue to hammer her pussy.
Grandma’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto mine. Her gaze was intense, filled with a primal hunger that sent shivers down my spine. “Okay?” she echoed, her voice husky with desire. “Oh, Michael, it’s more than okay. It’s… it’s what I’ve wanted for so long.”
She wrapped her legs tighter around my waist, pulling me deeper into her.”Don’t you dare stop now, you hear me? Grandma needs this… needs you.” Her words spurred me on, and I redoubled my efforts. My hips pistoned back and forth, driving my cock into her willing body with increasing force. The bed creaked and groaned beneath us, the headboard slamming against the wall with each thrust.
“Yes, yes, YES!” Grandma cried out, her voice rising in pitch. “Harder, Michael! Fuck your grandma harder! I wonder if your mom knows how bad you are.”
Grandma’s words sent a thrill of forbidden excitement through me. The idea that Mom might find out about our illicit encounter only added fuel to the fire burning within me. I gripped Grandma’s hips tightly, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as I slammed into her with renewed vigour.
“Oh, Grandma,” I panted, my breath hot against her neck. “You’re so tight… so wet. I can’t believe I’m doing this… fucking my own grandmother.” Grandma’s response was a loud moan, her body shuddering beneath me.
“That’s it, baby,” she gasped. “Use your grandma’s pussy. Fill me up with that big, hard cock of yours.”
Her words were like a trigger, sending me over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, I buried myself deep inside her, my cock pulsing as I released a torrent of hot cum into her waiting womb.
Grandma’s body convulsed beneath me, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. She screamed out, her voice raw with ecstasy, as her pussy clamped down around my spurting cock. I continued to thrust into her, prolonging our mutual pleasure, until finally, we both collapsed, exhausted and satisfied. For a long moment, we lay there, our bodies entwined, our hearts racing in sync. The room was filled with the sounds of our ragged breathing and the occasional soft moan. I rested my head on Grandma’s chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart.
“That was…incredible,” Grandma whispered, her fingers gently stroking my hair. “I haven’t felt that alive in years. Your cock feels so good inside of me.” She kissed the top of my head, a tender gesture that belied the carnal acts we had just engaged in.
“Grandma,” I began, my voice muffled against her chest, “we… we can’t tell anyone about this. It has to stay a secret.”
She sighed, her fingers pausing in their gentle caress. “I know, Michael. I know it’s wrong. But sometimes, the heart wants what it wants, regardless of the rules. You can stay every weekend if you like.” Her voice was tinged with a sadness that made my heart ache.
“Every weekend?” I echoed, a mix of excitement and apprehension coursing through me. “You really mean it, Grandma? You want me to come back and… do this again?” I lifted my head to look at her, searching her face for any sign of hesitation or regret. But all I saw was a warm, inviting smile and a glint of mischief in her eyes.
Grandma chuckled softly, her breasts jiggling slightly beneath me. “Oh, Michael, you silly boy. Of course, I mean it. I’m not getting any younger, you know. I need to make the most of the time I have left.” She reached up, cupping my cheek in her hand. “And who better to help me do that than my handsome, virile grandson?”
She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. It was a gentle kiss, but it held a promise of more to come.