Grandpa's Lap: Backseat Santa
Summary:
Sitting on Grandpa's lap leads to many sexual revelations.
Note 1:
This is a
Holiday Season 2024 story
so please vote.
Note 2:
Someone had mentioned there are no grandpa lap stories and I felt it was time to rectify that omission. So, for Christmas, I put Grandpa into the hot seat. I hope you enjoy. I promise you he does.
Note 3:
Thanks to
Small_Island
, OhDave1 and Shuj for editing.
Grandpa's Lap: Backseat Santa
"Do I seriously have to be an elf?" I asked, still not believing my mother had volunteered me to assist my grandfather at a charity event.
"Yes," she said, annoyed by my constant complaining. "If you don't want to do it, go and tell your grandfather that."
She knew I would do anything for Grandpa, and would never say no to him, but this was possible social suicide. I sighed. "You know I can't say no to Grandpa." While this was always true because my grandfather was such a wonderful man, it was especially true in this situation, when he'd be returning to his role as Santa after a two-year hiatus following my grandmother's death... the love of his life.
"I've never been able to either," she said in a pensive tone that I took to also be related to thinking about her own mother. For many years, my mom had alternated playing the elf with my aunt, and a couple of female cousins. This year she was taking on her mother's old role as Mrs. Claus.
"Fine, but if anyone I know sees me dressed like this..." I stopped to look at myself in the mirror. The outfit was way too small on me in the first place... the skirt so short it would definitely get looks. But it was the green pantyhose and hat that really made me look ridiculous. "Well...I'll never forgive you."
"You look adorable," she said, with a motherly smile, as she looked at me in the hideous seasonal outfit.
"Yes, every eighteen-year-old wants to be called adorable," I said.
"Well, your outfit is a lot better than the one I am wearing," she countered. In some ways this was true, as the old-fashioned dress, white wig, and glasses made her look significantly older than the forty-three she was.
"Maybe," I half-agreed, although, if I were wearing her costume, at least I might not be recognized by people who did know me.
"Plus, because you're taller than me the costume is as short as the usual outfits you wear," she pointed out.
"Now is the time you approve of my attire?" I questioned, shaking my head.
"Not approve," she said, "just pointing out it isn't much different from your usual fashion choices."
"I hate you," I said in what had become an almost automatic, mostly jokey response to any criticism from her about my wardrobe or behaviour. Any real ill feeling being strictly based on not liking her having me dead to rights on the costume length issue. I did like to wear outfits that showcased my long legs and since, as an ongoing act of teen rebellion, I usually chose not to wear panties, there was often the risk of exposing my naked ass. Of course, beyond tweaking my mother, I also liked the freedom of going commando... especially if it meant I could just flip up my skirt for a quick fuck on a date or to compel my good friend and lesbian pet, Mary, to eat me out.
"Oh, you love me," she said in rote response to what had become a bonding ritual between us. We'd had a few rough years when she'd sent my dad packing back when I was 14 but we'd gotten past it and were quite close now, especially since my brother had left for college.
"I tolerate you," I responded, the term I always used in this situation.
"Yeah, yeah." She waved her hand dismissively at me.
"And these pantyhose even have a hole in the crotch area," I pointed out. When I'd discovered it, I'd thought it would be a cool idea for quick, easy access to my pussy on a date... but now it was just something I was going to have to be careful about at a Christmas fundraiser at the children's ward at the hospital.
"What? They ripped the hose?" Mom snapped. The 'they' she was referring to were one of Mom's cousins and his family who had filled in for Grandpa and us the last two seasons. While Grandpa wasn't up to playing Santa himself while grieving Grandma's loss, the family tradition of supporting the children's ward was too long-lived to let it fall aside.
"Do you have another pair?" I asked.
"Do you know how hard it is to find green pantyhose?" she said. "And besides, we don't have time. Is the hole really big?"
"No, I guess not," I groused.
"I always wear green panties with them anyway," she offered, "didn't you choose a matching pair?" I decided it might not be the right time to announce I was sans panties. But, since I actually had a couple of pairs in various shades of green, I considered rethinking my commando approach. But then Mom squelched that idea.