“Fuck Me Now,” My Grandmother Urged – {Spying on grandma as she sunbathes naked in the dunes.}

GA – Cambridgeshire, UK – 25 April 2021

***

The dark, clandestine excitement rippled through me when I saw her step out of the caravan. The arousal was a heavy draw down in my root, desire tugging my vitals while my cock thickened and grew with urgent need. I knew it was wrong. Inside my head, on a logical level, I understood the sin.

But what I felt inside overwhelmed any and all notion of morality instilled in me by my parents.

I was hot for her body, eager to see her all bare and lovely again.

As I watched, and with those illicit carnal desires bubbling within, she tilted her face towards the sky, closing her eyes as she took a moment with the sun on her face. It was 10:30 a.m. and already warm, the promise of another high blue sky and sunshine no doubt drawing her to the dunes. There was more to her motivation than an all-over tan. I would find that out later. But, for me, on that bright August morning, my mind was full of how I could spy on her ripe, voluptuous, mature, and very aesthetically pleasing body.

“Just off for a walk,” I called as I watched my grandmother put her sunglasses on.

Then she hefted the blue shoulder bag higher on her shoulder just as my mother said: “Bloody hell, that’s three days in a row. What’s the matter with you?”

It was good-natured banter from my mother. She was in the bedroom at the back of the van, the one next to the caravan my grandmother and grandad were sharing.

“There’s a lot to see out in the dunes,” I said, which wasn’t a lie. The main attraction for me was my own grandmother, my mother’s mother, naked and working on her tan, big tits swaying whenever she changed position as the sun moved across the sky.

“Don’t get sunburned,” my mother called as I opened the door to the outside world.

My grandmother was moving at a fair clip, sandals strapped to her feet, hem of her light summer dress twitching, calves smooth and tanned, hips swaying as she went through the gate at the end of the park. I could see the blue water stretching off to the horizon, the blades on the windfarm towers flashing with reflected sunlight as they slowly turned some distance offshore. As I followed, anxious and eager, I saw my grandmother’s shoulders and head move beyond my sightline, the path down to the beach steep and narrow, a chokepoint I needed to be mindful about in case she turned and saw me lurking behind.

It wasn’t so urgent because I knew her spot. I’d spied on her for two days in a row so far and was confident she’d be in the same place. But there was always a chance she might know a couple or more private places where she could strip nude and take on some sun, which made me impatient and put me closer to her than might have been wise. Still, I got away with it and, after ten minutes of trailing my grandmother along the meandering sandy path, I watched from a dune about twenty yards away, hiding behind clumps of rough gorse which clung to the sand with tenacious fragility.

“Oh,” I breathed out loud when she lifted the summer dress over her head.

My grandmother had laid out the large towel, using her bag as an unnecessary weight in case an unlikely wind blew up. She was in a bikini, the two-piece a year or two too small, and even from that distance I could see tit-flesh jiggling, the cups of the bra struggling to hold my grandmother’s large boobs.

I sighed as lust lurched deep inside me while I stared at my grandmother and, with her back towards me, her feminine shape setting a pulse through my cock, gooey pre-cum seeping into my underwear, she hooked her bikini briefs with both hands, showing them down past her knees. That action meant she angled at the waist, rump thrust back at me.

Which is when I lost it and hauled out my cock. It was a reckless move, crazy because I was close to the narrow track while my grandmother had some shelter from view down in the concave bowl between the dunes.

I gawked and tugged at my dick, wild with desire, my focus on my grandmother as she unclasped the bikini top and, for a couple of unforgettable seconds, her big tits swayed and swung until she settled onto her front. I wanked, slowly caressing my length while my grandmother wriggled and eventually settled, skin shiny with the sun lotion she must have applied before she left the caravan.

I was so absorbed in what I was looking at and the sweetness of the sensations that I didn’t notice the man until he was a few feet away, the dog on its lead, for which I was grateful because the huge brute set to barking and snarling at about the same moment I spotted the man from the corner of my eye.

Then it was chaos: dog barking like it wanted to rip my throat out while the man, after a couple of beats where we stared at each other, set off yelling at me.

Fear was a visceral squeeze down in my guts, the response doubled because of the dog and also because a quick glance into the dune showed me my grandmother was up on her knees, a hand at her eyes like a salute.

As it all kicked off, the man yelled: “What the fuck do you think you’re at!”

“I’m sorry,” I babbled, repeating it three or four times as I shoved my erection into my shorts.

“Fucking dirty little cunt,” he was shouting while the dog kept of snarling and frothing at the mouth.

With the panic rising inside me I saw my grandmother was wrapping the towel around her waist.

“I’ve got to go,” I said to the man.

“I’ll set the dog on you,” he said. “You stay there, you fucking perv. I know what you were doing. I saw.”

As he said it he managed to hold the crazed animal with one hand, lead straining as the dog jumped and snapped it’s massive fangs at me, murder in its bark, the man fished a mobile phone out of a pocket in his trousers.

The sight of the phone upset me more than the dog as I blurted: “No, what?”

“I’m calling the police,” he said, fumbling one-handed at the device.

As he did it I saw my grandmother was walking up the incline towards us, towel around her waist, a forearm and one hand over her breasts while she shielded her eyes from the sun.

“Caught this one spying,” the man called out as my grandmother approached. “Won’t tell you what the dirty sod was up to,” he added. “But I reckon you can guess.”

I gawked at my grandmother, vaguely aware my life as I’d known it was over. Humiliation washed over me in a hot tide. I imagined it all in an instant, in less time than it took to blink I calculated all the anger and outrage coming my way. There’d be scorn and disgust, my mother would make a fuss. I could just see the snot and tears, hear the wailing and the shouts.

Then, as it was going through my head, and with the shock of it in her face, I saw my grandmother mouth: Run.

She accompanied the word with a s quick flick of the arm she didn’t have across her boobs, reinforcing the instruction with a jerk of her head.

Then she mouthed it again, turning to focus attention on the man while the dog barked and yanked at the lead.

A moment later, I was off, sucking in air, heart beat in my ears while I kicked up sand and sprinted away from the scene of the crime.

I yelped when I heard the man shout something about the dog, vulnerable at my calves and buttocks as I imagined the slavering beast taking chomps at the flesh.

I was close to blubbing as I made my frantic escape, charging along the path with no clear destination in mind as I swerved down into the dunes, desperate to get clear and away from that huge-fucking-dog.

I blundered along for a minute or more, swerving and jinking, eventually looking back, relieved to see the immediate danger to life and limb wasn’t loping along behind me on four hairy paws.

God … Oh fuck,” I gasped as I dropped down into the sand.

I sucked in air, close to hysterical laughter as the adrenalin surge started to cool. Then I sobered up quickly, delight at escaping replaced by dread at what was going to happen next.

With the fear on me, I stayed where I was for as long as I could stand it. There was no shade and it was getting on for midday. The sun beat down. I was thirsty and worried about burning, the combination working to send me in a reluctant direction towards the caravan park. As I went, I wondered if my grandmother was still down at the dunes or back at the van. Would there be a hostile reception waiting for me or did I have time to pack, leave, and join the French Foreign Legion?

As it was I crept closer to the neighbouring vans, anxiety churning my guts as I tried to suss out if I was already in trouble or if I had a short time of normality left before it all went to shit.

“Ah, there you are,” I heard my grandmother say.

The first thing I said was: “I’m sorry…” Then I was going to add more but she cut me off with an impatient shake of her head and a gesture towards her caravan.

“Be quiet. Not now,” my grandmother said. “Get in there. I want a word with you.”

She snarled at me to do as I was told when I blurted a: “But-”

“In there. Now. Stop messing about,” my grandmother hissed. “Davey, get a move on, she added. “Before someone sees.”

I did wonder what she meant by that but was too ashamed and cowed to ask and, a few moments later, we were in the van, curtains drawn against the sun, the air unit running so the sweat on me started to cool straight away.

“So, tell me,” my grandmother said.

She glowered at me, stern, arms folded.

“I’m sorry,” I said, mumbling it out.

My eyes skittered away from her face, heat flaring in my cheeks.

“I knew someone was there yesterday,” my grandmother said. “I just didn’t know who.”

“Please,” I gasped.

She blurted a laugh, the sound nasty and dangerous. “You’re going to tell me just what it is you think you’re doing,” she told me as her arms fell loose to her sides. Then my grandmother gestured with both hands, her demeanour all about how she couldn’t believe what a pervert I was. “I mean, spying on me? Davey, come on. You know that’s about as bad as things can be. You do know that, yes?”

I gulped, swallowing down on humiliation, guilt, and remorse.

“No,” my grandmother snapped when I said I was sorry again. “I don’t want to hear that, Davey. What I want from you is the truth. A reason. God, come on, just be a man and admit to what you were caught doing.”

“That bloke,” I gasped at the reminder.

“Sorted,” my grandmother said as she held up one hand, palm out. “No need to worry. He didn’t call the police.”

“The dog,” I said.

“Mm-hmm, you’re lucky he didn’t let it go. It was going wild.”

She shrugged when I asked: “Uh, how did you stop him? The police … He was pretty angry.”

“Never mind that,” my grandmother said as she folded her arms again. “Let’s stick to the subject.”

“I didn’t mean it,” I told her, eyes on the tops of my training shoes.

“What you didn’t mean to spy and do dirty things?” My grandmother paused and then added: “I’m your grandma, Davey. What were you thinking?”

Humiliation, guilt, and self-loathing rose inside me again. It was a nightmare scenario and I knew it wouldn’t end. I’d altered the relationship between us because I couldn’t control my urges. I thought she was going to hate me forever.

“I’m sorry,” I wailed, repeating myself.

“I expect you are,” my grandmother said, softer in her tone. “Look, sit down. We can have a talk about it.”

I didn’t want to talk. I felt like going down to the beach and setting off swimming for landfall to the east: Germany or Denmark, either would do. A new country, language, and a new life.

“Come on,” my grandmother crooned.

I followed her to the banquette set around the table, which was itself fixed to the floor. I was reluctant, ashamed and in pain.

“All right,” my grandmother sighed, settled on the banquette. “So, a question for you, Davey…”

I braced myself for the inevitable interrogation, guts swirling with the chagrin.

I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right when she first asked, so I looked at her and said: “What?”

When my grandmother sighed again the sound came out exasperated as she rolled her eyes. “I said, do you think I’m attractive?”

My eyes flicked up from the top of the table, pausing on her frontage for a second before I dared look at her face.

I knew in that instant she’d seen the pause, but the smirk that twisted her lips was a surprise.

“Uh, yeah, I suppose so,” I said, confused by her look.

“I’m fifty-eight,” she said, confusing me even more by the irrelevance.

“Right,” I said as I tried to make sense of what she was saying.

“I thought that might seem incredibly old,” she said with a half-shrug.

“I dunno,” I mumbled in reply.

For some reason that brought a bright peal of laughter from my grandmother. “Oh, Davey,” she said, a hand covering mine. “Your face … Listen, you’re not in trouble. I’m not going to tell.”

I’d heard it described as a weight lifting off a person’s shoulders, which is just what it felt like to me. The relief, the rush of joy and disbelief were immense, the pressure of guilt and fear immediately leaving me feeling lighter, more buoyant, hope a quick rush.

“Oh,” I gasped, gawking at her. “Gran, thanks,” I said on a sigh as I slumped against the backrest on the banquette.

“Mm, all right,” my grandmother said as the smirk shifted to leave her expression intent.

I gulped and sat up straight, immediately aware of the shift in my grandmother’s demeanour.

She winced and quickly shook her head when I asked: “What is it? What’s wrong?”

There was sadness in her face as she paused and held my stare with her eyes.

“Oh, Davey,” my grandmother murmured. “I’m going to tell you something…”

She said it and paused, leaving my head whirling with impressions and questions.

The pause turned to silence between us, the pressure building in me until I was about to ask what was on her mind when my grandmother sighed again, her eyes slipping towards the table.

Then, with a strange anxiousness on her, she said: “Well, you see, I knew you were there. Today. Watching.”

When I let out a small gasp, my grandmother glanced at me, attention going back to the table, the words tumbling out as she explained. “I didn’t know it was you,” my grandmother said in the rush. “Just that someone was up there. I saw you yesterday…”

My grandmother waved a hand in a frustrated, impatient gesture as she tutted and said: “Well, I saw someone. Like I said, Davey, I didn’t know who it was. If I’d known it was you I would have covered up. I wouldn’t have just laid there and…”

My grandmother had bee staring at me with a tortured expression in her eyes. Then, when she paused again, her eyes fell away, attitude about her own shame.

“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t have just made an exhibit of myself,” my grandmother added, her troubled attention back on my face. “God, I can’t believe I just let a stranger look at me. Naked and everything. Then I find out…”

My grandmother stopped talking, sighing again as she stared at me like she wanted my input.

It dawned on me in the few seconds of silence which followed that my grandmother was trying to make sense of what had happened. It was like she was asking for my understanding, even forgiveness – which came across as strange to me in those early moments because I was the guilty one. I was to blame.

“I’m sorry,” I said on a whisper.

As I said it, the hand covering mine gave a squeeze.

“You don’t have to keep saying that,” my grandmother said. “I shouldn’t have posed. It doesn’t matter who it was looking, I shouldn’t have encouraged it.”

“I shouldn’t have spied.”

My grandmother chuckled and pulled her hand away, expression suddenly sly.

“But you did,” she said.

I couldn’t look at her as the shame flared inside me again.

“And we can’t take it back,” my grandmother added.

I shook my head, still not looking at her.

“So, listen, I want to tell you something, Davey.”

There was something in her tone that brought my attention to her face.

“Maybe there’s this woman,” she started. “Middle-aged but maybe she could be considered attractive.”

My grandmother gave a half-shrug as she said it, eyes glazing over as though the thoughts leading to her words were coming in from a long way away. It was like she wasn’t talking about herself, which is probably what she was going for. The way she told it was like a story, that she was a character in a film or a play or a book. It was fascinating to me right from the off. I sensed there was some revelation or explanation in what she was going to say. Which is why I kept quiet and held myself very still as my grandmother talked her way through it. I didn’t want to upset her flow, the words coming out low and with occasional pauses as she considered whet to say next.

“Married,” my grandmother continued. “Two adult children. Three grandchildren, too. She thought she was happy. That everything was sunshine in the rose garden. But, well,” she went on with another half-shrug, “perhaps her husband, the man to whom she’d been married for close to forty years … Hmm, well, perhaps this woman found something out. She started to notice some odd behaviour about a year ago. Her husband, I mean. Well, at first she shrugged it off. Put it down to paranoia. But it kept on niggling and, one day – and she’s not proud of this, Davey,” my grandmother said in a moment of clarity, focus on my face for a couple of seconds before she drifted into that half-state again. “But she might have been obsessed by a need for answers she knew she wouldn’t get by direct confrontation. So, one day she looks at her husband’s mobile phone.

“Turns out he’s not very clued-in to technology. He thinks he’s deleted messages and even images … But, of course, he hasn’t.

“So the woman sees absolute proof her husband’s seeing other women. Women, Davey,” my grandmother emphasised as her focus cleared again. “Plural. Not just a woman, but at least three.”

With denial on me I realised she was talking about my grandfather. I didn’t want to believe it. It upset me to know the equilibrium in my life wasn’t true. Suddenly reality shifted under my feet and I just didn’t want to believe her.

“It was a shock,” my grandmother was saying.

I’d tuned out for a few moments, struggling with the news, her voice pulling me back to the present.

“She didn’t know what to do. For a little while she couldn’t think. But, somehow … Survival instinct perhaps? She managed to muddle through. It was amazing how she could be two people at the same time.” My grandmother chuckled and even gave a wry smile before she added: “Perhaps not so amazing? After all, her husband had been doing that for quite some time it seems.

“So, anyway, she muddled through and even went on holiday with the family…”

My grandmother’s expression cleared again as she stared at me.

“She stayed in a caravan with her husband, her daughter and son-in-law right next door. Her grandson was there as well. Good-looking boy. Tall, fit, handsome.”

My eyes dropped from my grandmother’s stare as my face started to burn.

I heard her chuckle but couldn’t look up.

“Anyway, so, I think you get the picture now, Davey. That’s why I let that stranger – you – look at me like I did. I was down there primarily because I wanted to be on my own to think about things. I can’t let this situation continue. This thing with your grandad is eating away at me. I wanted to lie there and thin, to try to come up with a plan.

“I’ve always liked being naked, Davey,” my grandmother said. “It’s nothing to do with sex. I love the feeling of freedom. That’s why I was bare.

“But, well, when I noticed someone moving around … I just thought it might be a small revenge. I thought I’d let whoever it was get a look at an old lady’s body.

“And, well,” my grandmother continued after a pause, “I quite enjoyed it, too.”

She chuckled again, the sound taking my focus to her face to where I found her staring at me.

“That’s why I asked if you think I’m attractive,” my grandmother said. “And I suppose you must do,” she went on as the smirk switched to a smile. “Because, well, that man with the dog … He told me you were…”

She didn’t say it. My grandmother mimed the action, fingers closed in a fist, hand jerking back-and-forth.

I groaned, shame ballooning inside me.

“No, wait,” my grandmother said, grabbing my wrist as I went to stand up. “I don’t want you to run away, Davey,” she added, grip tight on my wrist. “The thing is … what I want is for you to stay here with me … Now … I want you to do it again.”

I boggled at that, stunned and not believing what my ears had heard.

“Just do it again, Davey,” my grandmother insisted. “What you were doing when that man…”

The shock of it hit me like a cold-water wave, a tsunami smashing over me in such a violent rush I lost all power of thought and coherent speech. It was like my grandmother had flicked a switch and my cognitive functions crashed like an overworked computer.

Reality faded. It felt like a dream.

My world turned surreal and I couldn’t make any sense over what she’d said and the implications of the words.

Then, stupid as if I’d been hit on the head, I managed to gurgle: “What do you mean?”

Through the confusion I saw impatience flash in my grandmother’s face.

She sighed and grimaced and then snapped a prissy: “Do I have to say it out loud?”

My grandmother mimed the action again.

“That, Davey,” she said, eyes flashing with something I couldn’t make sense of. “Do it again. Here.”

“But … but,” I croaked.

As she slid her rump across the banquette, my grandmother said: “Does this help at all?”

A moment later I was boggling again, the weight of my dangling jaw vaguely registering as I stared at my grandmother.

She’d slid from between the table and the seat, standing up before, in a quick movement, she pulled the summer dress over her head. Then I was gawking at my grandmother’s body, tit-flesh bubbling over the too-small bikini, my cock growing in automatic response.

“Is this all right?”

I gulped after she asked the question, desire bubbling inside me as my brain rushed to catch up with my body’s response.

“Do you want to see?”

I gasped when, at the same time she said it, my grandmother hooked her thumbs into the bikini bra and pulled them away to reveal her large breasts, pale saucers of their areolae exposed, the nipples long, elongated teats, those big boobs swaying when she set them free.

“Come on, Davey,” my grandmother urged. “I’m starting to feel silly. Please,” she added, “at least give me some sign you want to look at my tits. I’m bricking it here. God, Davey, don’t reject me. Not now.”

From somewhere, I managed to dredge up a gurgled response. “Uh, gran,” I said on a gasp, eyes on her breasts. “They’re … You … I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Have I made an idiot of myself?”

I saw a look of desperation in my grandmother’s eyes when I dragged my focus from her breasts to her face.

Again, without really knowing what I was saying, I shook my head and sighed out: “No, gran, please, don’t put them away.”

I noticed her hands were trembling when she hefted her breasts with both hands.

I nodded when she asked: “You like them?”

She blinked a couple of times, frowning when I moaned: “Can I touch?”

“Oh, Davey, I don’t know about that,” my grandmother said. She thre a glance towards the door. “I only thought I could watch you while you looked at me. I don’t know if you can touch. That’s going too far.”

The thought flashed through my mind that how my own grandmother asking me to wank in front of her while she showed off her tits wasn’t going too far, but kept my mouth shut because I knew that would probably piss her off and lead to her hiding those large breasts away.

And I didn’t want that. Even as the shock rolled over me in a long, continuous wave I knew I wanted to keep looking at her boobs.

“Wuh-will you take the bottoms off, too?”

I stammered it out as desire surged and made me bold enough to ask. I’d seen her from a distance but wanted to get a look at her vulva up close. I knew she had a thick triangle of pubic fur above her slit, but wondered about the detail of her labia. I was curious to see, aroused to a point I dared to ask her to expose all of herself.

After I said it, my grandmother stared at me for several long moments.

Then, setting lust surging inside me, she nodded and gasped: “I’ll get naked as long as you’re bare as well.”

A couple of minutes later, as my confusion eased and I was able to understand what was going on around me again, after I’d followed my grandmother’s naked, jiggling buttocks into the small bedroom at the back of the van, I was wanking my cock, eyes set on my grandmother’s body, all of her beauty exposed.

“God, this is even naughtier than I thought it would be,” my grandmother breathed.

She was sitting on the bed while I was standing, hard-on in my fist, her attention set on where my fingers caressed my size.

Dark urges surged through me when my grandmother murmured: “I know what I said, but you … you can touch if you want.”

I went in fast, tugging my dick, moaning at the pleasure as I touched my own grandmother’s breast for the first time. The texture and weight excited me. I moaned, squeezing those tits, surge simmering down in my root.

“God, Davey, you’re so excited,” my grandmother gasped like it was a shock.

“Uh-huh,” I grunted, hot for her body. “This is awesome … Your tits … Your body … You’re so pretty…”

A delighted laugh tinkled from her before she said: “Keep talking, Davey. I like it.”

“I … I wanna fuck you,” I gasped, wild and reckless with need.

My grandmother let out a gasp of her own, doubt creasing her brow.

“Oh, Davey, don’t say that,” my grandmother said, eyes wide as she looked up to my face. “That’s wicked. It’s bad. Do you have any idea…?”

I knew, of course I did, the thing is I was in that place where common sense and logic didn’t matter. For me it was all about the need to fuck my size into her body. It came through hot and fevered, the desperate urge to use her cunt until the hot stuff bathed her cervix and I emptied myself.

“Please,” I groaned, leaning in to slobber a kiss at her face.

My grandmother yelped and pushed me away, shock in her eyes.

She wiped the back of one hand across her cheek, eyes on me as she yelped, “God, Davey, behave!”

By then I was tugging my dick, crazy with the sensations.

“I can’t help it,” I snarled. “Look what you did!”

Something must have worked on my grandmother as I held my cock and waved it at her. I don’t know what she saw or heard: the tone of my voice or the need in my face? It could have been something close to what I was feeling in that moment, desire a hot surge, normal rules and propriety blowing away like dust.

Whatever it was, I saw a sudden shift through my grandmother’s expression. Her stare moved to something like feral hunger in her eyes, a smirk at the corners of her lips as she glanced up to my face.

My grandmother sighed and, as I stared at her thighs, she wriggled and opened her legs, showing me the loose, meaty folds and the intimacy of that mystery.

“Revenge,” my grandmother murmured. “I didn’t think it’d go so far…”

As she said it, she moved and reached for my cock.

I gasped, stunned to see her fingers around my girth.

“Not a word, Davey,” she said on a low growl. My grandmother cranked my cock, her focus on my face as she added: “To anyone. Never. You can’t ever tell.”

Then, as I gazed at the single-most unbelievable and impossible sight I’d encountered in my life to that point, as she worked her hand slowly over the shaft, my grandmother pursed her lips and sucked her cheeks concave around the big dome.

I came, goo spitting forth, the first burst of it jetting into my grandmother’s mouth. I grunted a warning as she reeled back, spunk flicking across her cheek, a snotty rope of glistening cum in her hair while more of the stuff spattered onto her skin.

Ejaculate splashed onto my grandmother in an indiscriminate rain. It arced from me in what seemed to be almost one continuous rush. My cock pumped lust, the pleasure so intense I was grunting and gasping, blobs of it on the upper slopes of my grandmother’s breasts, gobbets of it on her thighs while it also left wet stains on the bed.

It was only a few seconds of action, several moments in which my grandmother yipped her surprise and then got vocal about the mess.

“God, Davey, look at the state of me,” my grandmother said as I stared at the carnage.

She was looking at me, astonishment in her expression, spunk drippling into her cleavage.

“The bathroom,” my grandmother added as she flapped her hands. “Get me a towel. Anything, Davey. I need to get this fucking muck off me.”

I was naked, cock still erect, spunk glistening on the bulb as the thing waggled and waved and I went out into the short corridor in search of something my grandmother could use. I heard her squeaking and complaining as I grabbed the small towel from the little shower room, thoughts and impressions whirling inside my head – mostly disbelief and amazement at what had just happened.

“You touched it,” I said as I almost stumbled into the bedroom.

I had the towel pressed against my dick to stop any spunk from dripping onto the floor. My grandmother was still berating me for coating her breasts with cum, her body spattered with gloop.

“You were waving it around,” my grandmother replied as she snatched the towel from me. “It just looked too good to miss,” she went on while dabbing at the mess on her skin. She glanced at my dick, it’s size undiminished. “Bloody hell, Davey, it’s still rock-fucking-hard.”

Despite the circumstances, it was a shock to hear the f-word coming from my grandmother with such casual ease. Present situation notwithstanding, and while she’s always been open and friendly, even flirty with men in my presence, my grandmother had always maintained an appropriate air around me, my sister, and our cousin. Yet, there she was, naked and plastered in semen, the swearing bubbling out.

She said it and let the towel drop onto the bed, leaning so she could reach for my cock.

“Mm, fuck, that’s rather impressive,” my grandmother cooed as she smeared her thumb over the slippery bulb.

I stared at her, the expression on her face all about feral need, her grin tilting towards me before she held her lower lip between her teeth. It was a vixen look, hot-eyed and full of mischief as she stroked my size.

“You came when I sucked it,” my grandmother murmured.

“You sucked it,” I sighed, awed at what I hoped was coming next.

My grandmother paused, staring at me as a chuckle came from her, the sound dark and full of clandestine intent.

“You want me to suck it again?”

Lust ballooned inside me. I nodded.

“Might as well,” my grandmother said on a murmur as she gave a half-shrug. “It’s already been in my mouth.”

I groaned when she held my gaze and teased the underside of the dome with her tongue.

“I may as well get you to lick me, too,” my grandmother added as she worked her hand over my size. “We’ve gone so far already,” she added, ducking in to suck at the cockhead.”

“Uh, oh, gran,” I moaned in response to the sensations.

“I think I might as well let you fuck me,” my grandmother said. “Your grandad’s made up an excuse about work,” she continued as she alternated between sucking and speaking. “He’s off to meet one of his slut friends. He’s leaving first thing … I think you should come and visit when he goes … We can spend the day together … We can do this, Davey … I’ll suck your lovely cock … And we can fuck.”

At that, my grandmother let go of my dick. She slid back onto the bed, arranging pillows so she could rest her shoulders and look down over her frontage, tits rolling while she spread her thighs and exposed her vulva again.

“You’ve come,” my grandmother said while she splayed her labia. “I’m still so fucking randy. Go on, Davey, give it a lick. Kiss me down there.”

I worked at my cock with one hand as I stared at my grandmother’s vulva, her opening glistening with her own need, the pee-hole visible above the place from where she’d birthed my mother, labia thick and meaty as she pinned the folds back like a butterfly exhibit. As I gazed in wonder, I saw my grandmother flick the tip of a forefinger over her clit, the bean all swollen and pink.

“There,” my grandmother gasped as she tickled the nub. “God, Davey, please, hurry up and lick me.”

She backed it up by sliding two fingers into her body, the middle- and third-fingers of her left hand, the triumvirate of engagement, wedding, and eternity rings flashing gold and sparkles when she worked the fingers deeper into her cunt.

The digits slipped free and my grandmother rubbed her pussy, her eyes glazed over as she moaned: “Is this what you thought you’d see?”

“Never,” I said on a gulp.

“Well, there it is now. You like it?”

She was holding herself spread, legs wide, breasts rolling when she shifted around on the bed.

“I … I love it,” I stammered.

“You know what this is?”

Puzzled, I stared at her pussy and shrugged at the same time.

“We’re family. You’re my grandson. That’s just so fucking wicked.”

I felt a quick flash of panic because I thought she was going to say we couldn’t go any further.

“You’re sexy,” I groaned, tugging my length.

“I can see you like me,” my grandmother said with a thrust of her chin, “But stop playing with yourself. Get down here and give my fucking twat a kiss. God, I’m fucking choking to come.”

She gasped and sighed when, as I settled onto my front, hard-on against the bed, I tasted her essence, lust slick at her opening as I squirmed my tongue into her body.

“Uh-huh, fuck, Davey, that’s right,” my grandmother added, sobbing it out as I lapped at her clit.

I spent the next minutes sucking at my grandmother’s flesh, tasting her lust as she writhed and mumbled at me. I teased her opening with a finger, flicking the bean with my tongue. I slurped and lapped, squirmed in deep as I could manage, and listened to her sighs and groaning instructions until she sobbed out she was there.

“Oh, Davey, granny’s coming,” she said as her orgasm took her.

As it went on, I watched from a kneeling position between her legs. My grandmother snorted, fingers working at her sex as I went upright. She rubbed at herself, squealing, fingers squelching into her opening, obscenities bubbling forth when she told me how it felt to come.

Then it was over and she lay there gasping for air. My grandmother stared at me, unseeing it seemed for a few seconds until her eyes finally cleared.

“Davey, God, do you want to put that inside me now?”

My grandmother leaned onto her side and reached for my cock, my focus on her big tits as they swung and shivered.

She wanked at my size while gasping and urgent: “You want to?”

“Uh-huh, yeah,” I said, grunting it out.

She let go of my cock and, crude yet also beautiful in my eyes, spread her thighs and offered herself.

“Then come here and fuck your grandmother,” she said through clenched teeth.

There was a wildness in her face which didn’t deter me from shuffling in, cock in my hand as I leaned in to take my weight on one straight arm.

My grandmother took control of the cock, holding me close to her body, the bulb at her opening,

“I don’t believe I’m letting this happen,” she said, pausing with her gaze set on my face.

“I love you,” I groaned, filled with tender emotion and urgent need.

I saw her face change. The lust in her eyes evaporated as she stared at me, sadness in the look.

“Oh, Davey, yes please,” my grandmother murmured as she rubbed the bulb around her vulva. “Love me. I need you to do that.”

I wasn’t sure what the context was, but I wanted to get into her body, that desire prompting me to gasp: “I will. I promise.”

“Tell me,” my grandmother gurgled as she excited her clit with the slippery cockhead.

“I love you,” I said, moaning it out.

“Again.”

“Gran, I love you.”

Then I felt the molten embrace around my girth as my own grandmother took half my length.

“Fuck me now,” my grandmother urged as her hips started to work. “Love later,” she added, thrusting up to take all of me in.

Then it was rutting. I fucked into her body, amazed at where I was and who I was with. I looked down to our conjunction, awed by the sight of her loose labia clinging to my cock, the shaft buttery with gloop.

“God, yes, just fuck me,” my grandmother was saying as she folded her legs at the knees. “He wants to fuck other women? Look whose cock I’ve got inside me right now!”

Lust took over and I fucked into my grandmother with vigour and force. I went at her pussy like I was going to smash her pubic bone, our bodies colliding with thick, meaty thwacks as she reached up with one hand to hook her fingers at the nape of my neck.

The kissing set love surging inside me. That act seemed more intimate than the actual sex. There were emotions and feelings passing between us, tongues swirling as she took all my cock, my need to be inside her close to overwhelming as we moaned and gasped and then gazed at each other, love in her face as she stared at me.

“Tomorrow,” my grandmother gasped. “We can be together all day … Sneak over here at night … Stay in my bed.”

It was the thought of being with her all through the night that set the surge rushing through my core. Whatever I had left inside me, I pumped into her body, thought of loving her the same way whenever I wanted mixed in with the joy of squirting my lust into my grandmother’s cunt.

As the delight faded and my cock slid free, I went up onto my knees and watched my grandmother finger herself to her own climax. As she did it, fingers stirring her vulva, semen dribbled from her opening, pussy agape, spunk running through the crease between her buttocks as she came.

“You better go,” my grandmother said through her gasping gulps for air when it was over. She had two fingers inside her body, scooping the cum from her opening as she looked at me. “Be careful. We made so much noise someone might be watching. But you need to get dressed and get out of here, Davey.”

“Is it all right? Am I in trouble?”

My grandmother rolled onto her front and went up onto all fours, large boobs swaying as she went up onto her knees.

She moved in to kiss my mouth, tongue slipping between my lips as we kissed for a few seconds.

“Trouble? God no, just the opposite, Davey,” she said. “I’m not really sure how it all happened but, well, it has. We did something unthinkable, darling. Thing is, we can’t take it back.”

“Can we do it again?”

“Mm, yes,” my grandmother murmured. “Yes please. But right now, well, you need to go. We were so lucky to get away with it. God, I shudder to think if your grandfather had come back for something. He’s supposed to be fishing, but…”

“It was awesome,” I gasped.

My grandmother, who must have been thinking more clearly than me, chuckled and pushed at my chest.

“Look, get dressed. Go down to the beach. Be careful not to run into that man with the dog,” she added. “I’ll tidy up and meet you there. We’ll talk.”

So that’s how I ended up down at the beach with my grandmother, impatience in me to get at her body again.