This is the third installment of a fictional relationship between a 61 year old man and his 18 year old granddaughter. If this story line offends you, please do not read any further.
In the first episode, Molly had managed to lure her grandfather into some intimate fun. In the second episode Ed paid a visit to Molly's room in the middle of the night, and got to taste her for the first time.
This episode deals with the Tuesday night a week following their first intimacy, when Molly had made a nervous Ed promise that they would be much more intimate the next week. Next week is now here.
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Chapter 1. Get out the door already.
Tuesday night had arrived, and the tension filled the dining room, or at least my corner of it. Ethel was oblivious to it all, of course, and filled the air with inane chatter about some cover-all that she had almost won the week before at bingo.
Molly seemed not a bit nervous either, and kept her grandmother going by peppering her with questions about the stupid game, pretending that she gave a damn about it.
"You should come with me some week Molly," Ethel suggested. "You'd have a lot of fun - we all do. It's mostly us ladies, but there's a few men there too. Some men like to do things with their wives."
Zing! Another barb directed at me by the old bag, who rarely passed on the opportunity to jab at me, this time aimed at my lack of interest in sitting in a school cafeteria with a bunch of old biddies and yelling at an even older geezer to draw their numbers. I had gone once a long time ago to make her happy, and swore that would be the last time.
"Some men must be morons," I muttered under my breath, and passed on the opportunity to repeat myself when prompted to by Ethel.
I didn't want to prolong the agony of waiting by getting into it with Ethel, and only wanted her to get out the door as fast as possible. The clock seemed to be going in slow motion as well.
Molly was now playing footsie with me under the table, rubbing my calf with her toes, and if she wasn't so short and was able to reach my crotch from across the table, I had no doubt she'd be doing it. I smiled in recognition at her antics and asked Molly to pass the butter.
"What are you two planning on doing?" Ethel asked.
"I dunno. Maybe watch a movie or something," I suggested.
"Well, just remember that there will be someone else in the audience with you when you pick one out," Ethel snorted, and I nodded while resisting the urge to jump up and punch her lights out once and for all.
I was never able to understand why some men get violent with their wives, but after the last few years of being tormented by this dried-up drone I was beginning to realize how some men break under the pressure. Not justifying it, mind you, but just understanding.
Ethel's film jab had been aimed at her finding my porn stash of movies a couple years back. I begged her to watch one with me, in hopes that it would kindle something inside of Ethel - something that had been gone for a long time.
What it kindled was rage, because even though I had selected a tame soft X movie without anything graphic in it, after ten minutes she jumped off the couch and started screaming at me.
"How dare you bring that filth into our home!" I remember her screaming at me, waving that fat ham of an arm wildly as she shrilled on.
"You must be some kind of pervert to spend your money on vile filth like this," she continued. "Then you show how little respect you have for me by insisting I watch it with you. You're going straight to hell Ed, but don't try and drag me down with you!"
Too late for that, I remember saying, because I was already there, but that didn't stop her from going on and on that night. I recall finally tuning her out when she started quoting scripture at me, and I resisted reminding her of some of the crazy stuff we had done in our younger days, back when we were in love.
"Did you hear what I said?" Ethel snapped at me, breaking me out of my daydreaming about the bad not-so-old days.
"Huh? What? Watch out for what movies we watch. Yes dear," I said in my best W.C. Fields imitation, and thinking how I used to find it so funny when it was someone else being henpecked.
"If you had been listening, you would have heard me tell you that I have to drive this week, because Betty's car is in the shop," Ethel apparently repeated.
"Fine," I answered, and knowing what a rotten driver she was gave me reason to hope that she would run into a tree or something. It would be worth sacrificing our new car for such an event.
Molly helped Ethel with the dishes as I busied myself by taking out the trash, all the while counting the minutes until Ethel's departure, and figuring in that she would have to leave a little earlier because she was driving, and would be home a little later. All the better, as it would give me a few more minutes with Molly.
Chapter 2. Ethel's departure.
Finally, Ethel gathered her bingo crap together; her special markers, her lucky charms (including a real horsehoe - I kid you not), her stuffed animals and all the other nonsense and headed out the door. I raised my head up from the newspaper and grunted a goodbye as the door slammed behind her.
I listened for the car engine to start, and heard the crunching sound of the tires backing up through the gravel driveway before jumping up and looking out the window and watching the beautiful sight of Ethel driving down the road.
I raced into the kitchen looking for Molly, and not seeing her there flew up the stairs faster than I had ever done before and headed for Molly's room. There she was, laying on her back as naked as a jaybird, hands behind her head and smiling when I charged in.
"What took you so long Grandpa Ed?" Molly said teasingly as I began unbuttoning my shirt as fast as I could, tossing it over in the corner.
"Thought she would never leave," I muttered as my trousers fell to the floor and I jumped out of them.
"Slow down Grandpa Ed," Molly said. "We've got lots of time. Leave your boxers on for me. I like to take them off myself. Besides, there's something you gotta do first, remember?"
Molly nodded over to the night stand, where the can of shaving cream sat next to a fresh razor, and so I dutifully knelt beside her bed and grabbed the equipment.
"Take your time Grandpa Ed," Molly instructed me. "That really turned me on last week. You liked it too, didn't you?"
"Yes," I managed to croak, as I shook the can and stared at Molly's armpit, noting the tiny patch of fuzz that had grown in the past week, barely visible to the naked eye.
"You ever do this to Grandma Ethel?" Molly asked, and I rolled my eyes at the thought. "That would take you quite a while, because she's really hairy. Reminds me of my best bud Angie. One time we shaved each other all over, and it took me forever."
"You and your friend Angie shaved each other?"
"Yeah, all over," Molly said. "She's so hairy that it took me forever to shave her, especially her bush."
"You mean you shaved each other's..."
