I have been torn about writing my story because for the past 30 years, my grandmother and I were more than just family, we were intense lovers that very much loved one another. From time-to-time, we would try to stop, regret that we were what we were, an incestuous couple who had to move mountains to be together but always had to hide our love and feelings. I am now 51 and my grandmother, my love passed away last year and I want to share our story. Unlike some of the stories on here, this will not be filled with phrases like "my throbbing cock" or "filled her pussy with my hot load;" this story, our story will be filled with incredible love-making, exploration and in the end joy and regret for being so taboo.
I did not know my father's mother for the first 19 years of my life. She and my father had not spoken for over 20 years when I first got to meet her. She had left my grandfather when my father was young for a life in Northern California (we lived in Pennsylvania). My father was a stern man, not very nice in all aspects of his life; my mother was withdrawn and cold and more interested in the lives of the people at church than her own family. So the day my grandmother knocked on our door, I was shocked not only because I had no idea she was alive but because she was jovial, kind and she actually smiled. My father wanted nothing to do with her, he abrasiveness was swift and for as much as my grandmother tried, there was no love shown by him.
I saw tears roll down my grandmother's face and she excused herself from the room and went to the bathroom. I finally stood up to my father and chastised him for his behavior. He replied, "Grace is not welcome in my home, but if you want to listen to that woman's lies, go ahead!" When Grace came out of the bathroom, she picked up her coat and left, I followed and not because she was sexually appealing but because it was the right thing to do. I caught up to her and introduced myself. I told her about college and that I was interested in knowing her and her side of the story. She was only in town for a few days and so I asked her if she wanted to sit down and talk. Her hotel was not too far from my college so we found a spot for dinner and talked for hours.
As I look back, she was a beautiful woman but I was not thinking that at the time. She was 67 years old, barely 5 feet tall, thin and maybe 100 pounds. She had a youthful way about her, very open and willing to share. Her hair was blonde and grey and she kept it long so she looked much younger. She dressed impeccably nice for a granny, always in small heels, stockings and a dress. I found out that night that she left because my grandfather was abusive and dominating and she felt as if she would rather die than stay. My father always told me that she was nothing more than a harlot that left because she wanted to go to California for the "free love" of the 1960s. I came to find out that none of that was true. She admitted that she did find herself and discovered her sexual freedom but that was not why she left.
I dropped her off at her hotel and went back to college. Grace and I stayed in touch, using snail mail back in the late 1980s because cell phones and social media did not exist. Our communication was sparse for the next 2 years but I knew she was living with a man half her age in CA and then with another younger man in Arizona. I asked her to come see me graduate college and she did. I had hoped that my father would see that she was trying to reconnect with him as she and I had connected. I picked her up from the airport and we drove to my parents home but nothing had changed, my father was ignorant and my mother was just not interested.
Grace told me she would still come to my graduation and I dropped her off at her hotel. Later that night, bewildered by the way my father acted, I went to see Grace at her hotel. I knocked on her hotel room door and she opened it saying, "I have been waiting for you." She was walking away in the dark room when I saw that she was wearing a lace robe covering her sexy bra and panties, stockings and heels. I was floored by this sight and not because I was "getting hard" but because I just did not expect what I was seeing. When Grace realized that it was me, she blurted out, "Oh my God, what are you doing here?"
"I came to make sure that you were OK," I said, covering my eyes. It was a very uncomfortable situation. She tried to cover herself but there was nothing to cover herself with so I ducked into the bathroom and handed her a towel. Once she was covered, I came out and she apologized saying she was expecting someone else. "I can see that," I said and told her that I was leaving. She kept apologizing, trying to get me to understand that she did not expect that I would show up at her hotel but it was apparent that she had been drinking heavily. Then there was a knock on the door and she opened it just enough for me to see a young black man, not much older than me standing there. She tried to hide me from him, or him from me but either way, she told him to leave and that she had made a mistake inviting him over because "her grandson" was in the room.
Once he left, she wanted to talk to me but I wasn't really in the mood to talk. Then she said something that kept me there. She admitted that when she found herself, she realized that she was addicted to sex and enjoyed younger lovers. I should have but the way she looked and my own sexual desires took over my logical brain and I stayed. I asked her if she wanted to explain this and I suggested that maybe I needed a drink, since I had just turned 21. Still wrapped in a towel, she pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured us both a heavy drink.
I made sure to ask questions of her that were sexual, trying to hide somewhat my growing desire to see her take off that towel. She was reluctant to open up too much but by the third drink, I said, "You are so beautiful, why do you invite strangers over to be with you. Why are you not married to one good man." Then it happened, instead of answering the question she said, "You think I am beautiful?"
