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Hi, I’m Jacob from a lower middle class family with two working parents. My mom’s a department store clerk and my father is a baker. We live in an old three-bedroom home in a mid-sized Midwestern city. I have one older brother named Jarrod who’s in the Army.
I’m a senior in High School who recently turned eighteen. In looks I’m pretty average, I stand a shade under six feet and have brown hair, brown eyes and no really distinguishing features. Through no fault of my own, I was until very recently a virgin. Part of problem was that until this year I went to all boys schools; both in elementary and high school. Also since my parents had been a bit wild in their youth both my brother and I had been raised pretty strictly. Education was the primary focus so we were either at school or at home. Jarrod chafed at the all the rules and all the schooling and joined the Army as soon as he could.
Since I got better grades that my brother I finally convinced my parents that they could save the money they spent on parochial education to help college. To be honest my real reason was so I could go to a school with girls. However my lack of inter-gender socialization led to stammering, social awkwardness.
As soon as I started going to public high school my dad expanded his satellite sports package so who knows how much is actually being saved for my incidentals.
They hoped to use the extra money to take a long delayed second honeymoon. This was not to be however, because Grandma moved in with us.
My grandmother is sixty-eight years old and had just recently become penniless. When Grandpa retired at sixty-five Grandma also retired even though she was only sixty-two at the time. A year into his retirement Grandpa died of a sudden heart attack while chopping wood. She and Grandpa had saved for years for their retirement so Grandma was left with a comfortable nest egg or so she thought.
A few months ago her financial planner had suddenly disappeared. He’d bilked a lot of old folks, my grandmother among them. She still had her social security but lost her home to foreclosure because the financial advisor had also pocketed the mortgage payments. Although the financial planner was caught and arrested, he refused to say where he’d hidden the money. A long legal battle lay ahead. My parents insisted that Grandma stay with us in Jarrod’s old room.
My grandmother is a vibrant, witty and funny woman. She has piercing green eyes that can sparkled with humor or turn cold as green ice when she’s pissed. Her face is still fine featured and pretty although now is a bit soft and jowly. She has long silvery hair is usually up in a bouffant, a style popular when she was a young woman. With that hair style she reminds me of the mother on Petticoat Junction, one of the few non sports shows my dad watches on one of them retro stations.
For the most part having Grandma in the house was a welcome addition because it reduced everyone’s chores. At her own insistence Grandma cooked, cleaned and did the laundry for her upkeep. My parents didn’t want a houseful of rowdy teenage boys bugging Grandma so my house became off limits to my friends. Grandma also felt that my generation didn’t get enough exercise so she made me help her with the chores and help her cook.
Grandma had to sell her car to pay off some debts and we have one car which my father drives to work. My mother takes the bus in the morning and is picked up by my dad at night. As a result Grandma is home almost all of the time.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love Grandma but I was used to having the house all to my self in the afternoon. This was my “alone” time, if you get my drift. Grandma being around all the time inhibited me. Grandma often cleaned out my room’s wastebasket and I didn’t want her to see it filled with wadded up tissues so I began spending more time in the bathroom. That didn’t work out either because if I was in the bathroom too long she’d call up to ask if I had fallen in the toilet. I had to do it so fast I was afraid of becoming a premature ejaculator.
On Wednesday afternoons a friend of Grandma’s picks her up and they go to the senior center as to volunteer, so I have at least one afternoon alone. One Wednesday I jerked off in my room to a new Playboy and then took a shower. As I showered one of the photos from the Playboy popped into my mind. In it the sexy big titted playmate was showering. I soon imagined she was with me in the shower. I turned off the shower, poured crème rinse over my pecker and went to town. I was so deep into my fantasy that I didn’t hear the bathroom door open. The sound of the shower curtain being pushed aside made me turn.
Standing before me about to step into the shower was my grandmother. She had not heard the shower running and thought it was unoccupied. We stared at each other in stunned surprise. I had always thought my grandmother to be attractive for an older lady but had never been tempted to see her naked. Same goes for my mother. However this was merter escort the first nude woman I had ever seen in the flesh and so my eyes were riveted.
Grandma is definitely not a Playboy centerfold although she’s not a decrepit old hag either. Although my Grandma’s a bit plump with extra baggage about her waist, thighs and hips she’s still an attractive woman. The first thing I noticed was that her long silvery hair draped down across her shoulders and rested just above her chest. As my eyes trailed down they zeroed in on the pendulant grapefruit sized breasts drooping down her breast bone. Pale blue veins snaked across these perfect white globes to end at Dixie cup sized areolas. Dark pink nipples stiffened to the size of pencil erasers as I gawked, from the cold I suspect. Shocked I tore my eyes away from her tits but I caught a glimpse of the gray thatch between her legs and the thick protruding dark pink labia below it. The first real life pussy I’d ever seen so my eyes latched onto it like laser sight.
I’d been on the verge of cumming before my grandmother had opened the shower curtain. The adrenaline rush of the shock plus the sight of an attractive, if mature, female form sent me over the edge. An intense orgasm ripped through me. With a combination of mortification and perverse pleasue I watched with crystal clarity, as if in slow motion, ropes of my semen spray Grandma across her breasts, stomach and thighs. Green eyes flaring, her lips pursed and her lined face crinkled in surprise or horror. With a short cry she jumped backwards, lost her balance and fell, cracking her head against the wall. She slumped to the tile floor unconscious. Silver hair surrounded her head like a cloud, a cloud shot through with red as blood from a slight gash ran into her hair.
After making sure she was still breathing I ran to the phone and dialed 911. I rapidly dressed and washed the drying semen off of her and covered her with a towel. She regained consciousness before the paramedics arrived but remained disoriented. At the emergency room she was diagnosed with a slight concussion however she did not remember falling. We were told that it was not uncommon for the short term memory to be affected. I was glad of this, which made me feel guilty. However I didn’t want my Grandma to hate me for having defiled her, even if it was an accident. We later learned her ride from the Senior Center had felt ill that afternoon so she had been at home the whole time but I’d been too “busy” to notice.
They told us to watch out for any other side effects which could be signs of brain damage. We soon learned that Grandma had become confused.
It began simply but rather shockingly. While I was washing the dishes one evening Grandma slipped up behind me, put her arms around my waist and hugged me. She pressed her large breasts into the small of my back and rubbed her groin against my butt. She kissed me on the back of the neck and hot breath scorched my neck as she whispered in my ear. “What do you say we go to bed early, sweetheart?”
At that moment my mom walked into the kitchen, “Jacob! What’s going on here?
“I don’t know Mom, ask Grandma.”
Grandma released her arms from around me. “Oh, I’m sorry Jacob for a moment there I thought you were Caleb.” Caleb had been my grandfather. She laughed nervously and walked out of the room. Mom and I exchanged worried looks. For the rest of the evening and the next couple of days Grandma called me Jacob and treated me as she always had with no sign of further confusion.
A few days later however Grandma slipped into my lap while I was watching television. Putting her arms around my neck she sucked my earlobe into her mouth, blew softly in my ear and said, “I have a brand new negligee I want you to see.”
“Mom, what the hell is going on!” Dad asked from the other side of the room. His face was drawn in an almost stereotypical look of flabbergasted shock. He’d been walking into the room to with his paper and beer in hand. His beer tilted as he stood rooted in spot. beer dribbled onto his slipper.
“Oh be quiet, Davy, your daddy and I are getting mushy.” Grandma said and gave me a soft, passionate kiss on the mouth. Her full bottom slowly ground against my crotch.
“Mom! That is NOT Dad, that is Jacob, your grandson.” He gestured and the forgotten beer sprayed across the room.
Grandma shook her head and then looked at me as if startled. “Why so it is. Sorry, Jacob.” She slid off of my lap and walked back into the kitchen. Luckily Dad knew about Grandma’s earlier bout of confusion. However it didn’t stop him from glaring at me like I’d done something wrong. I think it was the spilled beer that also pissed him off. Had he seen the woody that Grandma’s passionate kiss and crotch massage with her full warm ass had given me, he’d have freaked out. It freaked me out a little.
A day later Grandma returned from her Senior Center activities, after putting her coat away she walked nişantaşı escort over to where I was sitting at our family computer doing my homework. Putting her hand on my shoulder she said, “Come here for a minute I want to show you something.”
As I stood up she led me by the hand over to a corner of the room. My parents watched this with wary expressions. I wasn’t certain what she intended either. Once we were in the corner she looked up at me and smiled, her eyes flashing with humor.
“What do you want to show me?” I asked nervously.
She said, “This silly!” and threw her arms around my neck and gave me a passionate liplock. My Dad raced over and pulled her off of me. Grandma reacted with anger and slapped Dad across the face. “David, what the hell do you think you are doing!”
“Mom! You can’t kiss him like that!” Dad shouted frantically as he rubbed at his stinging cheek.
“Look young, man I can kiss your father anyway I want. What’s the hell the matter with you kids!”
“For Christ Sakes Mom! That’s Jacob, your grandson! Dad’s dead, dammit! Get hold of yourself and quit acting like a loony!”
Grandma stiffened up and slapped Dad across the face again. “You shouldn’t talk to your mother that way, even if I am a little confused!” She stormed out of the room.
Dad looked apoplectic with fury. I’m not certain but I think my mom tried to hide a grin.
At a family meeting Mom, Dad and I discussed the situation.
Mom said, “Well, since she didn’t suffer brain damage this delusion is obviously being caused by something else.” Turning me to she asked, “Did you tell us everything that happened in the accident?”
Well, I knew that it was time to man up and tell my parents that I was the reason my grandmother suffered from some sort of trauma. I told them the specifics of what had happened.
My father was of course outraged. He slammed his fist on the table. “God dammit you fucking little pervert! Jesus Christ, Jacob! Have some fucking control over yourself!”
Mom laid a calming hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Come on, Dave it’s not like he did it on purpose. Besides I know when you were a teenager you choked your chicken at least twice a day. It was an accident, but it does explain her sudden confusion about Jacob. She needs therapy.”
“Great another fucking expense we cannot afford. Hopefully Social Security will cover it.” Dad said, glaring at me.
We brought Grandma into the room and explained that we thought she needed therapy. She refused to hear of it. Dad made a few phone calls to see what could be done. Apparently unless we wanted to have her committed we could not force her to go to therapy, especially when the only problem was that she sometimes confused her grandson with her dead husband.
Her confusion worsened. At seemingly random times over the next few days Grandma would get the notion that I was her husband and would hug me, make lewd suggestions and try to kiss me. Whenever this happened my Mom, Dad and I would emphatically correct her. My mom soon put a stop to this however. She’d taken a few books out of the library about delusion and had been reading them. One volume had an underlined passage that stated that sometimes when someone suffering from delusions had their delusions challenged they became defensive. Rather than having the effect of bringing the person back to reality, they retreated further into the delusion.
“Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?” Dad grumbled.
“Humor her and maybe she will snap out of it. What harm will it do really? So she thinks Jacob is Caleb, eventually she’ll realize she’s wrong.”
“So we’re supposed to look the other way when she starts making out with our son!”
“Oh, for god’s sakes Dave, all she wants is a little affection.” Mom said annoyed at Dad’s tone.
“Wait a minute!” I protested. “Don’t I get a say in this? I mean I am the one she’s after!”
Mom’s eyes shot daggers into me. “Are you telling me that you can’t bring yourself to let your grandmother give you a kiss once in a while?”
“Geez, Mom it’s not like she is kissing me on the cheek!”
Mom still did not let me off the hook. “Are you such a little boy, that you can’t man up enough to let your grandmother have a few moments of happiness?”
“I love grandma, I just don’t see why I’ve got to be the one to humor her” As soon as I opened my mouth I saw that I’d said the wrong thing to set my father off.
“Now listen here, sport! It’s your goddamn fault that my mother’s out of her fucking head! So you will humor her or you will find another place to live.”
Shit. “Alright I’ll do it.” I said, I hoped with the right amount of martyrdom in my tone. Both my parents looked relieved that they wouldn’t have to pay for expensive therapy for my grandmother.
Mom shook her head in disgust at my attitude. “You know instead of looking at this like it was a big sacrifice on your part, you could ortaköy escort look at as an opportunity. Your grandparents had a long loving relationship. Your grandfather always said your grandmother was the best kisser in the world. You could learn a lot from her. Close your eyes and pretend it is Megan Fox or somebody.”
“God, Marjorie do you have to be so disgusting.” Dad said his face scrunched up revulsion.
“I’m just saying as long as he has to do it, he might as well take something from it. He’s not going to learn how to kiss a woman by watching pornos or looking at Playboys.”
“I can’t hear anymore of this shit. I’m going to bed.” Dad stood up from the table and strode out the door.
“Pleasant dreams!” Mom called after him. She turned to me, “He’ll be snoring away by the time I get up there.” She tidied up in the kitchen while I had a glass of milk. As she was leaving, she turned to me and said in a serious tone. “I meant what I said. God, knows your father could’ve used some instruction.”
I lingered over my glass of milk, deliberately delaying going upstairs to avoid running into Grandma. This whole incident with Grandma gave me a peek into my parent’s marriage which made me uncomfortable. Mom and Dad had met in high school, he was a football player and she was a cheerleader. Although Dad was good enough for high school, he wasn’t scholarship material and from what I gathered, spent most of his time goofing off and drinking. My parents got married right after high school, I think because they weren’t careful, and Jarrod was born not long after that.
Their plans for college were put off and eventually never panned out. Over time beer and lack of exercise had made my Dad’s athletic physique into a doughy parody of what it had been. He was forty-eight but looked to be in his late fifties. Mom had pretty much kept her shape, because she actually used the exercise bike and treadmill in their room. Don’t get me wrong, you could tell by her graying brown hair, hands and her crows feet that she was in her forties but even after two kids and forty years she still had an hourglass figure.
I began to get the idea that Dad was a sort of wham bam thank you ma’am sort of guy and had always been that way. At the beginning his sex drive had matched my mothers but as he grew older weight, age and alcohol had diminished his drive. If Mom and Dad had gone on that second honeymoon Dad probably would have stayed in his room watching tv or sat in the hotel bar watching tv and left my Mom to fend for herself. I think a lot of Mom’s sympathy for Grandma stemmed from the fact that she herself was not in a emotionally fulfilling or sexually satisfying relationship.
I dreaded knowing that the next time Grandma was confused and thought I was Grandpa Caleb I had to go along with it. My dread was based on disgust but not how you might think and not how my parents thought. Fact is Grandma didn’t disgust me. I disgusted myself because I didn’t find the prospect of kissing my grandmother to be either gross or repulsive. Actually the idea excited me.
Grandma hadn’t been the only one affected by our accidental encounter in the shower. The intense orgasm I’d had while seeing Grandma’s naked body had messed with my head. I guess you could say it opened my mind a bit. I now think mature women are pretty hot. Don’t get me wrong, I still like girls my age but older women also do it for me.
For instance Mrs. Ashmore, my English teacher now gives me boners I have to hide behind a book. Mrs. Ashmore is, I’d guess, in her late fifties with short, graying blond hair and slim shape except for her butt which is pretty big. She also had chunky thighs. Yet after my encounter with Grandma I could see the pretty woman Mrs. Ashmore had once been in her youth, superimposed upon her current form. Thinking about the younger Mrs. Ashmore gave me a chubby and looking at Mrs. Ashmore while still horny I found her gray hair, lined face and mature form as beautiful and sexy as the tight, hard body of Jenny Copeland, the head cheerleader.
I found it slightly troubling when the mental images of mature women crept into my masturbatory fantasies but when Grandma began to haunt these fantasies and invade my wet dreams I was both ashamed and perversely thrilled.
Mom’s idea to humor Grandma didn’t quite work as planned. The next time that Grandma was confused and kissed me with passion I responded. We ended up making out for a few moments on the sofa next to my parents. My father grew more and more incensed, mostly because we were making too much noise and disturbing his television watching. Grandma came back to her senses and slid off of my lap with the comment she was warm and needed some air.
Despite humoring Grandma her attacks of confusion happened more frequently. At first my Dad had a real problem with our kissing sessions but after a couple of weeks these incidents no longer registered on his consciousness. These, like everything else in the house, just became background noise that never intruded upon his leisure time of watching television or reading the paper. My mother was mostly amused by the whole situation but at times I saw her glaring at my father while grandma kissed me. As time went by the make out sessions grew longer and to my shame I gave back as much as I gave.
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