Grandmothers Bed Ch 02

Chapter 2 – The relationship develops

My thanks to everybody who read Chapter 1 and especially to those who left comments. It was partially due to those comments that I was prompted to write another chapter. Chapter 3, which I think will be the last in this story, is in the process of being written.

I woke to a silent house and an empty space next to me in the bed. Descending to the kitchen I found a Post It note on the table. It said 'gone shopping, back at twelve, love S xxx.' It was now just after ten a.m.

Since waking, my mind had been dancing round the edges of thinking about last night, almost like a gourmand pausing before starting his favourite meal. Now, sitting at the kitchen table, I allowed my thoughts to re-play in time-order the scenes in the restaurant, the taxi, the hallway, the sitting room and climaxing (appropriately) in Sylvia's bed. I asked myself if I felt guilty or ashamed or indeed if I felt anything at all. The only conclusion I could come to was that I was immensely, overwhelmingly turned on by my grandmother and by what had happened between us. I had no vestige of remorse; we were, as Sylvia had pointed out, both consenting adults and I wanted it to happen again and again.

Although slightly comforted by this sketchy rationalisation, my lurking anxiety was how Sylvia would be feeling this morning. Would she pretend it had never happened? Would she want to 'talk about it' and insist it must never happen again? Somehow neither of these seemed likely; she had been as much an instigator as I. Besides, the Post It note didn't really support either of those possibilities. Nevertheless, an inner and pessimistic voice told me that people are unpredictable and casting about and endlessly modifying these options, and others, in my mind occupied me whilst I showered and dressed.

Five minutes of staring at an unfinished essay on eighteenth century economic trends in Europe convinced me that university work was out of the question, at least for the rest of the day, so pulling on some jogging bottoms and trainers I tried to purge my mind with a run.

It worked. It always does. I pushed myself round my favourite 5-mile circuit at a pace which left no spare capacity for analytical thought but just enough to concentrate on keeping my breathing ahead of the demand. Back at the house, showered again and feeling high on exercise, I wheeled out the garden mower and cut the lawns all around the house. As I was putting the mower back in the big, brick-built garden store there was the sound of a car scrunching up the short gravel drive. My bowels experienced an immediate and thrilling deliquescence with an accompanying weakness in the knees. The moment of truth had arrived.

Walking round to the front of the house I saw Sylvia unloading straining plastic bags of groceries from her hatchback. She was wearing slim-fit blue jeans and a halter-neck top – she looked fabulous!

"Let me help with those." Smiling, she turned to greet me.

"John, good morning and thanks, I'd love some help. Just stick them on the kitchen table and I'll unpack."

Three trips saw all the bags on the table and I helped by unloading the bags and passing items to be put in cupboards and the fridge/freezer. This done there was a slightly awkward silence. Sylvia broke it.

"Are you ok, John? I mean..."

"Yes, I'm great, really good." Suddenly I had to lift the stone and see what lay beneath.

"Sylvia, I thought last night was fantastic, the most intense experience of my life. You are a wonderful, sexy lady and I would really, really like it to happen again!"

"Oh thank goodness." She skipped across the kitchen to me and flung her arms around my neck.

"Oh darling, I was terrified that you'd wake up this morning and be disgusted with me or with yourself. That's why I got up without disturbing you. I thought you might be horrified about last night, you know, in the cold light of day. I couldn't stop thinking about it in the supermarket; it caused a four-trolley pile-up by the frozen veg!"

Overcome with laughing relief, I tilted her chin up slightly and lowered my lips to hers. Our mouths opened against each other and we kissed long and leisurely. It was different to last night. The urgency was gone and in its place there was a beautiful and languid sensuality. I stroked her back and she placed her hands either side of my head, her fingers twining into my hair. My erection, which had hidden itself away for most of the morning, while I contemplated various awful possibilities, now rose and stretched. Feeling it through her jeans, Sylvia thrust slightly forward with her hips and broke the kiss to look up at me.

"I'm so glad you feel that way, John. You made me feel wonderful last night. Would you believe that that was only the second time I've had sex since Charlie died, ten years ago? And that occasion was a disaster! And yes, I want it to happen again soon too, in fact why not now?"

I smiled with pleasure and excitement.

"Your bed or mine?"

"Let's try yours this time."

We kissed again, briefly, and Sylvia, taking my hand, led me slowly up the stairs to my bedroom, closing the door behind us.

We came together and kissed in the middle of the room. This time there was more urgency, more passion, more like last night. All at once Sylvia's hands were unbuckling my belt, pulling my T-shirt out of the waistband and over my head. Moving apart she removed her own top and peeled the slim-fit jeans down her legs, revealing matching red lacy bra and silk knickers. Almost choking with anticipation I stripped off my jeans, taking my underpants and socks with them. My cock was painfully rigid and leaking a clear fluid which it smeared on her silky knickers as I put my arms around her to unclasp her bra. Once more she guided me to the bed, this time sitting me down on the edge while she parted my legs and knelt between them.

"This time I'm going to suck you dry, darling, you'll last much longer afterwards."

Taking my steel-hard erection in her left hand she commenced stroking the shaft, using her right middle finger to smear the juices over its head. Still stroking she brought her middle finger to her mouth and slowly licked from the base to the dark-red painted tip before sliding the finger all the way into her mouth.

"Mmmm, you taste delicious."

Lowering her head, Sylvia used the tip of her tongue to flick over the glans of my cock. Moving lower she licked from the base to the tip a few times then, taking the head in her mouth, she closed her lips to form a delicious seal. As she moved her head slowly up and down, just concentrating on the first two inches, the point of focus of my entire being became the head of my penis and the exquisite sensation of her mouth and the mixing of her saliva with my pre-cum. In an abstract way I was aware of her left hand gently masturbating me and now, as she had done the previous night, she used the nails of her right hand to gently scratch the underside of my ball-sack.

Some indeterminate time later the pressure from her left hand increased slightly, and she began to move the hand faster up and down my shaft. Briefly taking her mouth from my cock, Sylvia moistened the tip of her middle finger with saliva and as she dipped again to envelop me with her lips, her finger reached beyond my balls until it lightly touched my anus. This intimate and highly erotic contact would by itself have pushed me over the edge of climax but Sylvia now increased the pressure of her lips and the speed at which they slid over my engorged flesh. Right at the end, just as my orgasm reached that point of no return, she pushed slightly with her middle finger allowing the painted tip to penetrate me.

With a guttural cry I literally exploded into my grandmother's mouth. She rode with me, sucking and stroking me until the ejaculation was spent.

"I think you enjoyed that" Sylvia smiled at me, licking her lips. "Now I need some attention."

Stretching myself out on the bed I watched as she slipped her knickers off and crawled over to lie next to me. Cradling her neck and head in my arm, we kissed for minutes on end, teasing each other with the tips of our tongues, tasting the saltiness of my ejaculation on her lips. With my free hand I stroked her breasts, delighting in their firm roundness, and gently pinched her stiff nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb. Breaking the kiss, I moved my head down to lick and suck her nipples into my mouth. They were large without being gross, and a very dark brown against her pale skin. Sylvia had started breathing a little heavier and now she surprised me by whispering;

"Bite my nipples John."

I obliged, clamping my teeth lightly around the base of her nipple whilst licking the tip.

"Bite them harder, darling."

Nervous of hurting her but overcome by the eroticism of the act I increased the pressure of my teeth. Sylvia responded by arching her back and pressing her hand to the back of my head. I slid my hand down her stomach to the silkiness of her pubic bush. Her legs, which were parted slightly, opened wider at my touch and my hand slid over the slick wetness of her vagina. Her breathing grew louder as I used my middle finger to part her lips and slide up and down her slit, occasionally sliding in to the second knuckle. Concentrating on her clitoris, which I could feel slick and stiff under my finger tip, I increased the pressure, rubbing in a circular motion, still clamping my teeth on her nipple.

"Oh Christ John, that's wonderful."

I rubbed harder and faster and Sylvia started gasping and bucking her hips.

"Yes, yes, oh god, yes, oh Christ I'm coming!"

With something between a sigh and a scream the orgasm washed over her. I slowed the motion of my finger, stopping before the onset of post-orgasmic sensitisation. Lifting my head I smiled down at her.

"I think you enjoyed that too."

She smiled back, face relaxed and eyelids heavy.

"Mmmmm, fabulous, you can take me to that place whenever you want."

Raising herself on one elbow she reached out for my erection, which had been achingly hard for the past twenty minutes.

"Lie back down, darling."

Rising, she swung one leg over my hips and positioned herself above my cock. Then, taking the shaft in one hand she guided the head to her vaginal entrance, sliding it up and down her slit before spreading her legs wider and taking me deep inside her. Leaning forward slightly, and grasping the bedstead, Sylvia began a gentle up and down motion. The sensation was overwhelming and for the second time that day my entire being was focussed on my cock, although I was aware of my gorgeous grandmother, breasts swinging, head back, riding me.

A little while later she stopped the up and down motion and, with my penis fully inside her, started rubbing her sopping cunt in a backwards and forwards motion, pressing her clitoris against my pelvic bone. This was clearly an intense position for her; for me the sensations were less acute and I was able to lie back and enjoy the sight of Sylvia pleasuring herself on her grandson's cock. The rhythm increased, became a little wild. Sylvia closed her eyes and for the second time that morning an orgasm rippled through her. Collapsing over me, she remained motionless for a minute before lifting herself on her elbows and pushing her hair back behind her ears. Expecting some praise on my performance and how wonderful she felt, I was surprised by her words.

"Fuck me from behind now John; fuck me hard until you come inside me."

Climbing off me she grasped the bedstead and arched her back, thrusting her bum towards me. Kneeling behind her I penetrated her in one smooth motion and, with a hand on each of her hips, did as she asked and fucked her hard. We got into a wonderful rhythm, my forward thrusts being met by smaller backward thrusts; my backwards motion almost taking my cock out of her. I relished running my hands over her beautiful flaring hips and as my climax approached I parted her bum cheeks to see my cock slurping in and out, just below the puckered brown rose of her anus. The orgasm hit me like a thunder clap and I thrust harder than ever, slapping my hips and balls against her bum, spurting cum into her, aware that she was screaming but not what she was saying.

As quickly as it hit, the climax died and I reluctantly withdrew my cock from Sylvia's cunt, easing off the tension in my leg muscles. Sylvia, alerted by some noise, had craned forward to see through the net curtains.

"Shit, it's your mother", she leapt off the bed and grabbed a black silk dressing gown. "Get dressed, I'll go and let her in and pretend I was going into the shower."

I went downstairs some twenty minutes later and greeted my mother with an attempt at nonchalance that I hoped was convincing. I needn't have worried; mum and Sylvia had cups of tea and mum was talking nineteen to the dozen, repeating (and doubtless embellishing upon) the local gossip. I gave her a peck on the cheek and sat down in an easy chair, giving the outward appearance of attention. What was actually running through my mind were variations on a theme of 'hey, mum, what would you say if you knew what your mum and I were doing as you arrived?'

My chair faced Sylvia across the room. She sat with her legs crossed under the dressing gown. As I gazed, she uncrossed her legs and stood to pass my mother a second biscuit. The sticky patch of leaking semen on the black material, just under her bum, was clear and obvious. Fortunately my mother couldn't see it from her angle but she would be able to if Sylvia walked past her to the kitchen.

"Let me show you the garden, mum. I mowed all the lawns this morning and it looks really nice."

They both gave me slightly odd looks. Me having any interest in gardening was new to my mum. Nevertheless, she was pleased and allowed me to guide her away from Sylvia to the French doors that led to the rear garden. Ushering her out, I half turned and made gestures to the seat of my pants. The message must have got home for when we returned a few minutes later Sylvia had changed into jeans and an old sweater. "I'm sorry," said mum seeing the change. "You were just about to shower when I got here and here I am rabbiting on when I'm sure you've got loads to do."

We both protested, but not too vehemently, and mum departed in a round of hugs and pecks-on-the-cheek about five minutes later. Alone together Sylvia collapsed into my arms in a fit of laughter.

"Well thank God your mum didn't notice me leaking! She'd have thought her old mum was getting incontinent! Clever of you to warn me, and now I really am going to have that shower, why don't you have one with me?"

My grandmother's en-suite shower was a deluxe walk-in affair that could have hosted a small party. A chrome shower head the size of a dustbin lid dispensed a cataract of hot water and for the first few minutes we just stood under it in an embrace, with faces upturned. Eventually Sylvia shut off the flow and reached for the shower gel.

"I'll soap you and then you do me, ok?"

She poured a generous amount into her hand and started by rubbing it around my chest and shoulders. Soaping my back she ran her hands over my buttocks and down to my thighs, returning to my chest via my hips and stomach. It need hardly be said that my penis was rock-hard again. Standing to my side Sylvia used one hand to soap and stroke my cock and the other to massage my bum, sliding her fingers down into the crevice to lather my anal entrance. As she did this I turned my head to kiss her, running one hand down her back, cupping her arse cheeks and pushing her cunt against my thigh.

After a brief rinse, it was my turn. I started with her elegant neck, massaging her shoulders with circular motions, rubbing hard with my thumbs to unknot the muscles and relieve the tension. Sylvia sighed and leant back against me, pushing her bottom against my erection. Reaching around, I cupped both breasts, feeling the nipples hard and wet against my palms. Kissing her ear and sucking on the lobe, I slid my hands lower across her flat stomach and, moving slightly to one side, copied her technique of one hand in front and one behind. Cupping her pubic mound, I slid my fingers around her lathered vagina, pressing gently with my palm on her clitoris. Her sighs grew louder, and louder still as I used the other hand to explore the private area between her bum cheeks. I wasn't sure at this point what was allowed and what wasn't and, loath to break the spell of the moment, I refrained from teasing a finger-tip into her anus and, after a final rinsing deluge, we dried each other and padded into her bedroom.

"What would you like me to wear, John? I was thinking maybe black seamed stockings and matching garter belt?"

I must have had my tongue hanging out because she laughed and guided me gently to the bedroom door.

"I'll be down in a while, a lady of my age needs a bit of time to look her best."

The 'while' turned out to be nearly an hour. Resisting several strong urge to masturbate and unable to concentrate on a book, I was watching some crass daytime television show when Sylvia came into the drawing room and smilingly gave me a twirl.

"What do you think?"

What I thought was that here was every hot-blooded male's older-women fantasy in the flesh! On her feet were black, patent leather court shoes with three-inch heels. She was wearing the promised black, seamed stockings, the seams perfectly aligned and showing the curves of her legs to perfection. Above these she wore a tight, black high-waisted pencil skirt which ended just above her knees, again showing to perfection the flare of her hips and the narrowness of her waist. On top she wore a crisp, white long-sleeved blouse, unbuttoned just far enough to show the top of her lacy black bra. Her hair was lose and shining with cleanliness. She had applied her make-up with care, including a scarlet lipstick and matching nail varnish.

"You look beautiful, Sylvia" I said simply. "I really don't know how I'm going to keep my hands off you."

"Well I'm not dressed like this for you to keep your hands off me, although I suppose some food might not go amiss; we ought to keep our strength up. And while I'm cooking, why don't you go and change into that suit you wore yesterday in the restaurant?"

When I came down the formal table in the dining room had been set for two, the cutlery and wine glasses gleaming in the light of the candles that Sylvia had placed. A bottle of Chateauneuf du pape was open and breathing.

"Don't get your hopes too high" smiled Sylvia as I poked my head into the kitchen. "It's only a Marks and Spencer ready meal. I'll make us something special another time, when we haven't spent most of the day fucking."

Coming up behind her at the cooker I put my arms around her and cupped both breasts.

"It'll be great" I said, nuzzling her neck and starting to undo the top button of her blouse.

"It'll be burnt if you start turning me on; go and pour us a glass of wine."

In fact the meal was good and we lingered at the table long after finishing, our talk open and wide-ranging. My grandmother had travelled extensively before marrying and, when she could be persuaded, she could entertain me for hours with anecdotes and stories.

"I'm afraid there's no dessert" said Sylvia, half-way through the second bottle of wine.

"I'll have you instead."

"I'd like to dance first."

Ok, I thought. Whatever. The music she put on in the drawing room was soft and seductive jazz, not my thing at all. But as she guided me to the middle of the room and we went into a slow-dance embrace I began to appreciate it.

"Hold me closer, John."

She put her hands on my shoulders and laid her head against my chest. I placed one hand just above her waist and the other on her between her shoulders and in this position we slowly gyrated around the room. It was not overtly sexy, I could almost have been dancing with my grandmother at a family do, but I could smell her scent and the freshness of her hair and she was lightly pressing her nails into the flesh of my shoulders. I stroked her hair and lowering my hand slightly to the swell of her buttocks I pressed gently, closing the small gap between our bodies and feeling the swell of her pubic mound against my rapidly hardening penis. Time seemed to stand still as we moved together; not speaking but occasionally tilting our heads to kiss.