I scratched my eyes lazily; staring at such a bright computer screen for so long got them really dry.
I'm staying at my grandparent's house for the majority of the evening. I had been out with a few friends early in the afternoon, only to arrive home to a locked house. I didn't think it proper to call up my friend and ask him to turn back and pick me up. No, without any house keys I'd either stay out here for an unknown amount of time or simply walk over to my nearest relatives. My grandparents only lived a half-block away, so I didn't hesitate.
My grandmother was home, like she is every Saturday. Apparently my parents, grandfather and uncle all went out to some club opening downtown and won't be back until the midnight hours.
She didn't mind letting me in. She wouldn't. My entire life, she always seemed to spoil me. When I was quite young, my parents encouraged it (maybe because my parents were quite young themselves), but when I reached age nine or so they began to resent me for it. I could understand why, though, since my grandmother never really gave the same amount of attention to my younger brothers or to my cousins, but I didn't want her to stop treating me more special.
When I reached my teens, she began getting a little older, but a lot more active in my life. She rose to nearly top position at her job as a researcher and gave me my first job. All I did really was weigh chicken food and collect eggs along with college students, but it was very good pay. Plus, the two of us got to spend a lot of time together.
I wouldn't say that she's the most understanding person I know. I would probably say that my best friend or my mother fits that category. But my grandmother... I'd certainly say that I've told her some really personal things. She and I share a totally different family bond, and I think we've had it for a long time.
But here I am, eighteen years old, nearly graduating high school, sitting on my grandmothers computer checking Facebook and filling up time. She was upstairs, probably cooking something for supper. She herself was now around sixty-six years old.
I was quite bored. After a couple of hours surfing the internet I could find no more interesting things to do. For a moment, I forgot where I was and thought about searching for more adult-themed things on the web. But I realized abruptly that I should just stick to doing that on my laptop at home.
But the idea was etched in my mind, and it made me yearn. I had enough self control not to use my grandmother's computer, but not to contain myself. I quickly exited the room into the hallway, then moved to the opposite side and entered the guest bedroom.
Shutting the door behind me, I recalled other occasions where I had masturbated in this same room. This is often the room I choose to sleep in should I have to stay here for the night or when I drink a little too much at family get-togethers.
I leaped face-up onto the bed and leaned my legs off the end. To get myself a little hornier, I closed my eyes and began to play a fantasy in my head.
I pictured a mature, average-looking woman sitting vulnerable in a fancy bedroom. She smiled mischievously as I approached her, and as I neared her she hid playfully underneath the scarlet sheets.
Suddenly, through my thoughts, I heard my grandmother call my name from upstairs. But, in my head it seemed to come from the bed. And I chased the call through the silky cloth until I found her.
But that woman was no longer the one I imagined. She had become my grandmother.
I opened my eyes and sat up, disgusted with myself. How could I think of my grandmother like that? It was an incredibly awkward thought.
But then I realized how hard my cock was. At first I was confused; I don't think I even pictured my grandmother naked. I knew it was because of her I had it, but...
At that point, I wanted to feel even more disgusted, but instead I did something that surprised even me. I instead undid my jeans, and rolled them along with my boxers to my knees.
My cock, fully erect, sprung up instantaneously. I instinctively wrapped my right hand around my shaft, and began stoking, very slowly.
I decided to place the images of my fantasy back into my mind. But this time I delved deeper, curious as to where they'd lead.
I thought about what I'd hear her say in that situation. I heard her compliment my body, felt her feel me. All the while I simply stared into her lustful eyes as she scanned me.
In reality I groaned mildly, getting a little more excited.
I pictured my grandmother undressing. I realized my thoughts were very made-up since I never have seen my grandmother naked. But I new she had quite a young-looking body for her age. She wore shorts a lot, so I knew she had very smooth legs. She didn't have that many wrinkles on her hands and even less on her face. Her hair was still pitch black as it always had been.
I felt myself twitch somewhat, and then I heard her voice again.
Both out loud and in my head I grunted, "Oh, Nana." Nana is what I've called her ever since I was a child.
Suddenly, I heard the door of the room open, and I heard her familiar voice say, "Honey? Are you hear, because I've been trying-"
She stopped dead in her tracks.
It literally pained me to realize the situation I was now in. I have had nightmares in the past of my brothers walking in on me at home, let alone my grandmother walking in on me in her home.
Not to mention, I was hunched as if I was in mild ecstasy, which I had been, but that was long gone. I quickly straightened and pulled some of the rough-feeling bed sheets over top of my bare waist.
I honestly expected her to throw up, or at least yell out loud. What she did do, however, was simply look away quickly, stand still for a moment, and then leave.
I simply stayed sitting there, contemplating whether I should apologize to her.
***
After about ten minutes, I decided the best thing to do would be to confront her and explain myself.
I slowly made my way up the stairs and into the kitchen. My grandmother simply paced around the kitchen, chopping vegetables, checking pots, putting dishes away and other things someone could do in a kitchen.
