Hello, readers! After my last story, I doubt many of you thought I would upload again so quickly. This story took a long time to write, and its length reflects that. I broke it up into four chapters to make it more digestible, but regardless, it remains a slow build that rewards patient readers.
If long stories are not for you, I do hope that you give it a shot anyway. I think you will be pleasantly surprised. Happy fapping!
-CK
Edited by neuroparenthetical
It would take more than two hands for me to count the number of times my Mom caught me jerking off while I finishing my final year of high school.
Most of those occasions fell on days where I had lied to her about studying to get into medical school, just like my father. No matter how hard I tried to pursue that dream, I could rarely stifle my masturbatory urge for long keep my mind on track.
Being sequestered in my room with nothing but a laptop and a high speed internet connection was a recipe for disaster. My desire to follow in Dad's footsteps was enormous. I wanted to make him proud, but that desire paled in comparison to my obsession with pornography.
The year I turned eighteen, Mom had to remove my bedroom door to ensure that I did not waste the day away jerking off in my bedroom. Her watchful eye made it so that, up to that point in my life, I had yet to experience my first kiss.
It was not entirely her fault, though. I recognized that being a porn addicted hermit made it hard to come out of my shell. I felt uncomfortable talking to women, and that anxiety was just another reason that I felt completely inept when it came to courting them. Even if I had the confidence, spending hours obsessing over my laptop made it impossible to meet any of them in the real world.
That time was rarely spent studying, though. Had I focused on homework, rather than porn, there would have been more post-secondary education options available to me once I graduated high school. My grades were subpar, so I knew that the more prestigious schools would be out of reach.
I'd picked a few schools that interested me, but had only been accepted into my fallback school. I had also failed to secure any scholarships, forcing me to rely on my parent's money lest I incur thousands and thousands of dollars of student loan debt.
Luckily for Mom, the only school I had been accepted into was the one that she had been advocating for. Though I did not understand why she was so fond of it at the time, she was sure to inform me just a few days after I had received the letter of acceptance.
The three of us were in the kitchen after dinner, with a series of dirty plates covering the table that had yet to be cleared. Mom tapped her foot at a thousand beats per minute, the toes of her black slippers slapping on the tile floor. Her palpable anxiety ran counter to Dad's calm, stoic silence.
"You know this is what you need," she said.
"I know that this is unfair!" I exclaimed with a heavy heart. I knew there was no point in arguing once her mind was made up, but I felt compelled to try. "I'm an adult now. Are you seriously going to force me to choose the school
you
want?"
With a shake of his head, Dad swooped in to play both sides, as per usual. "It's not about that, and you know it, James. You're perfectly capable of making your own decisions; we don't doubt that."
"Then what is all
this
?" I nearly gave myself whiplash as I rapidly panned back and forth between their faces. I already knew why they were forcing me to live with Nana for the duration of my time at university, but I wanted to hear them admit it.
Mom folded her arms over each other. "James, please. Think about your future. You're a smart boy. You just need a little push in the right direction."
"Does that push have to send me right into the arms of my
grandmother?
You can't be serious!" I didn't often get away with raising my voice at Mom, but she could tell I was upset by the news, so she let it slide. "Not only am I being forced to pick the school you guys want, but you're forcing me to live with Nana the whole time? How is that fair?"
Dad sighed. His body language admitted that he, too, saw the absurdity in her demand. "I know it's a bit crazy, but you know how high the stakes are. We can't put this amount of money towards school just to have you throw it all away."
I rolled my eyes. "Why would I do that, exactly?"
Mom snorted. "You have a porn addiction, James! I've caught you lying about your studies twice this week! That is not a recipe for success."
"And who exactly is defining 'success' here?" I asked.
The warden offered up her trademark authoritative smirk. She had never been one to beat around the bush. "We are. You need to make the most of this opportunity."
Dad came in to soften the blow. "And we know that you will. We just think that Nana will make it easier. Her internet is too slow to allow... you know."
I slumped my shoulders. They were not going to change their minds, I knew that much. I could not be mad at them, since their hearts were in the right places, but it still felt harsh to send me away like a petulant brat.
I had wanted to go to a school much farther away from their house and their rules, but the plain fact of the matter was that I couldn't afford tuition, a dorm room, and a meal plan all on my own-- not if I wanted to achieve my dream of becoming a physician. To that end, it was Nana or nothing.
I made a promise to myself that I going to overcome my addiction. It had ruled me for too long. I naively hoped that the presence of a sixty-five year old woman in the house would dissuade my hormones from taking full control, even though that had never stopped them before.
I repeated variations of those ideas silently to myself for weeks and weeks, reminding myself every day of what lay ahead so that it would feel like less of a culture shock when it happened.
Months passed, and by the time September arrived I had come to terms with my situation. Living with Nana was not my first choice, but I came to accept - and even be excited by - the prospect of self-improvement.
I kept that positive state of mind for the couple of hours that it took to drive to Nana's house. I was not dreading it by then, but still felt a bit of anxiety in the pit of my stomach when we finally pulled into the driveway.
We dragged our bodies out of the cramped sedan and stretched out our limbs. The summer sun was beating down on us, reminding us that we were too weak to survive for long without our creature comforts. I liked the outdoors, but I hated the heat, especially when it made me feel like I could tear off my skin like strips of wet paper.
If I were to spend any time in the sun that year, I figured it would have to be within spitting distance of Nana's pool. I tried my best to convince myself that the stifling blanket of heat, much like my forced relocation to her house, was a blessing in disguise.
Dad scurried over to the front door and rang the bell. It was finally time to see, with my own eyes, how I would spent the next several months of my life.
The rust-covered hinges of the front door groaned in pain as Nana forced them open. I dreamed that she would be unable to do so, preventing us from ever entering and thus erasing the rest of the story that my mother had written out for me.
Nana appeared in the doorway with a big, cheesy grin on her face. Even in the poor light I could make out the telltale features of a woman that time had refused to touch. Nana had always taken remarkably good care of herself, and thus wore her age with pride. In fact, Mom was starting to show more wrinkles than she was, but of course I'd never uttered anything of the sort to anyone.
Nana's lustrous, shoulder-length hair was parted to the side. A few errant strands, paler than the purest moonlight, dangled just above her eyebrow. It framed her face and captured the light so uniquely that it made all of her other features stand out: the slight upturn of her button nose, the small mole that was perfectly poised above her upper lip, and the dazzle of her magnificent sapphire eyes.
It was as though someone had designed her from the ground up to age like fine wine; she somehow managed to look better and better every time I saw her.
Everything from her shoulders to her slender, toned legs looked like it belonged to a woman half her age. Her legs maintained their shape down to the red-painted toenails that burned like furious embers against the dull carpeted floor.
The shapely form of her lower legs was juxtaposed with thighs that were so plump and juicy that they left no gap between them. Her forearms were decorated with such a beautiful array of sun-soaked freckles that I felt warm just looking at them, as though they'd stored up the light and had waited until I was there to pour it out over me. Her tummy was hidden behind her shirt, but the garment was tight enough to hint at the soft, pudgy muffin-top it covered.
