I knew that my grandfather was going to visit us, so I wasn't shocked when I saw him that Thursday afternoon in the guest room. It was the way I saw him that set me back a bit.
I walked down the hall that afternoon, and when I passed the bathroom I could tell that someone had gotten out of the shower recently. That someone was my grandfather, and while it was true that he should have closed the door of the guest room while he dried off, he probably thought that with my parents at work that he was alone.
That didn't excuse my stopping at the doorway and watching his vigorously drying the little patches of grey hair that still grew on his temples, but back then to me there was something beautiful about older men, and the fact that the man I was staring at was my Mom's father was not enough to stop my staring.
I did notice that despite him being in his late sixties, Grandpa Tony was still in good shape. He slender 5'7" frame was still trim and fairly well-toned, with nicely formed shoulders and arms and little trace of a belly despite his age.
I also noticed the silver cloud of hair that graced his chest, hair that I remembered being fascinated by when I was young and the hair was black, along with the long hairs that filled his armpits to overflowing.
But what really got my attention was hanging between Grandpa's legs, and when I say hanging that's exactly what I mean. Even though Grandpa was a small man physically, when your cock hangs down damn close to your knees, it's impressive.
"Eric!" Grandpa said, breaking me out of the trance I had been in, and how long he was aware of me staring at him, I do not know. "There's my college boy!"
I was flustered at getting caught leering at my grandfather like that, and I could tell he was aware of my looking and my resulting embarrassment, but he put me at ease by coming over and giving me a hug.
"Not college yet, Grandpa Tony," I reminded him. "Next month."
"Close enough. Let's get a look at my favorite grandson."
He stepped back at looked me over, mentioning that my 5'10" frame had filled out some since he had last seen me, and then he insisted I sit down and tell him about what had happened to me since he saw me last year.
So I sat on the edge of the bed and told him about my limited role on the football team's lousy season, and of almost making the honor roll the last semester, but it wasn't easy talking when he was standing a couple of feet away from me, still naked.
Not only was he naked, he was totally at ease with it, although I suppose if you're hung like a horse there's no reason to be modest. I wouldn't know about that. What was worse was that he was still drying his hair, as if he was flaunting himself in front of me. He was practically bald yet Grandpa kept rubbing the towel through what he had left.
So I talked and pretended not to look at the long uncircumcised hose that swayed slowly back and forth like a metronome as his body moved. It was hypnotizing to me, and by the time I left the room I had committed his magnificent organ to memory.
Thick at the base, which grew out of a silver tuft of hair that seemed trimmed, the beige hose tapered somewhat on the way to the glans, the shape of which looked ominous and obvious under the shroud. A ridiculously fat vein that wandered to about halfway down the shaft only added to the character of his manhood.
The foreskin was long, completely hiding his glans from view. Behind his absurdly long penis, his nuts hung low in a wrinkled sac, the left one much lower than the right. All in all, the was a guy that I wished wasn't my grandfather, because otherwise I would have loved being seduced by him and letting him have his way with me.
When I finally managed to make it out of my grandfather's room, I barely made it to my own room before I was dropping my shorts and stroking myself. I had been hard in Grandpa's room, and had done by best to hide myself, but now I was standing there with my stiff cock in hand stroking away while recalling the last few moments.
Had to be more than six inches - probably closer to eight - and it was as limp as flesh could be! Way bigger soft that I was hard, I had noted, but that did not shame me but instead made it more exciting. I knew what killed Grandma, I thought perversely, trying to imagine my late Grandma struggling to get that monster cock inside of her.
I came in about a minute, and as self-induced orgasms go it was pretty good, and while I thought it perverse to be getting excited about by grandfather, I justified it by just looking at him as if he were like the two older men that had seduced me since I turned 18 in March.
Neither of them had been built like Grandpa though, I mused while cleaning up my mess. Those two men were pretty normal sized. None of the four guys I had been with were like Grandpa, although they were all a little bigger than I was.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that during Grandpa's stay, I was going to have to watch myself and take a lot of cold showers.
***
"You should see what they did to the park, Dad," my mother was telling Grandpa as dinner wound down. "They're putting in a little amphitheatre down there, and next year they'll have concerts there during the summer."
"That will be nice," Grandpa said. "It being so close and all. Maybe I'll take a walk down there and take a look. Work off dinner. How about you Eric? Want to join me?"
"Oh, that would be nice Eric," Mom said in an effort to coax me to go, but I was fine with it anyway.
It was a pleasant evening, and there was still a little time before it got dark, so we could make the half-mile walk in time to see what was pretty much a hole in the side of a hill and pallets of lumber.
As we strolled leisurely down the sidewalk, I couldn't get the image of Grandpa from earlier in the day out of my mind, and whenever I looked over at him as I could picture was the cock hidden in his baggy trousers.
Grandpa did most of the talking, and after we got down to the park and looked at the hole that was going to be the site of the town band playing corny songs this time next year, Grandpa put his hand on my shoulder and asked, "Do your folks know? About you I mean?"
I looked over at Grandpa, and the way he was looking at me made me realize that putting up some kind of protest or lame denial would be a waste of time and an insult to his intelligence.
"I don't think so," I said. "I try to keep it a secret. Guess I gave it away this afternoon. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry Eric. After all, I wanted you to see me."
"You did?"
"I didn't know you were there, but once you showed up I figured that I might as well find out whether my suspicions were correct."
"You mean you already suspected that I was gay?" I asked. "How?"
"Kindred spirits I guess."
"I don't get it," I said, dazed at what I seemed to be hearing. "You mean..."
"Afraid so," Grandpa said, and then he told me of his life, or should I say his double life.
He married Grandma because back then, being gay wasn't something most people broadcast. Besides, he said, he did love Grandma, even if it was more of a sister/brother relationship with occasional sex thrown in.
After their two kids, my Mom and her brother, had grown, he decided to have a heart-to-heart with his wife, saying that he had repressed his urges through all of their marriage, but couldn't hold it back any longer and told her he was gay.
