The following story is mostly fiction, touched by truth, and woven into fantasy. There is no "BDSM," or fetishes. If you like my story I'm glad. If not I'm sorry.
There are only two main characters in this story. One is fifty-eight and the other is twenty.
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Let me tell you about my grandmother.
Her name was Marilyn and she was fifty-eight years old. That may seem young to have an twenty year old grandson but she was nineteen years old when her daughter was born and my mother was nineteen when I was born. For the past five years, ever since grandpa died, she has lived with my mother, my sister, Holly, and me. (My parents were divorced for six years. My father remarried and moved to California.)
As little as ten years earlier, my grandmother was a stunning beauty. Her face was still pretty but her eye lids and cheeks were beginning to sag and there was the beginning of dark circles under her eyes. Also, she had age lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Instead of looking pleasant and cheerful, as she had before, she now looked stern and a little angry. Her hair was colored reddish brown and hung down around her shoulders. She usually wore her hair pulled back in a pony tail.
Considering her age, her body was fantastic. She was five feet, eight or nine inches tall. She had a slender build but her breasts were large and full. Her waist was narrow and her hips were slim. She had a sleek, sexy ass and great legs.
She loved to wear tight levis, to show off her ass and hips, or short skirts, to show off her legs or low cut blouses to show off her breasts.
My mother once criticized gramma for dressing like a thirty year old instead of a sixty year old. Gramma got a little indignant and told her daughter, "I am fifty-eight not sixty. I always felt that if you got it you should flaunt it. Well, I still got it so I'm still going to flaunt it."
Then she said, "You know, honey, I think it would help your attitude if you got laid once in a while."
I was listening, from across the room, and I started laughing. Gramma winked at me as she walked away with a big smile on her face. My mother was left standing there, looking as though she couldn't decide who to shoot first; Gramma or me.
My mother could be a little up-tight, especially about sex. After she and my father got divorced, my mother dated occasionally but I don't think she dated the same man more than twice. During the last few years, she did not date at all.
My mother was an attractive woman. She had short, teased blond hair and a cute, almost baby like face; bright blue eyes, a tiny nose and narrow lips.
She was a couple inches shorter than Gramma and a little heavier. Her breasts were large and full, like her mother's, but she was not as slender. Her body was full and curvy with wide hips, a firm, meaty ass and thick shapely legs.
Before I get into the story, let me tell you about me. My name is Matt. I was twenty years old, six feet, two inches tall and I weighed one hundred and ninety pounds. Since my last year of high school, I had three girlfriends. At the time, I was dating a girl named Aimee O'Donnell.
On a Wednesday afternoon, during the summer break following my second year of college,, I was home alone. My mother was at work and my sister was—I don't know where she was. Gramma was already gone somewhere by the time I woke up that morning.
It was a hot afternoon and I was just relaxing on the living room couch, watching the baseball game on television. I was wearing a white T-shirt, khaki cargo shorts and sandals.
Around two-thirty, my grandmother got home. "Hi, grams," I greeted her as she entered the house.
"Hello, sweety," she said, using her pet name for me.
"Wow, gramma," I told her, "You look great." She had her hair pushed up on the back of her head. She was wearing a snug fitting, black dress with grey pin stripes. It had a zipper down the front and the dress was hemmed two inches above her knees. Her legs were encased in black nylons and she wore black,,high heeled shoes. "Where were you?"
"I had lunch with some friends," she told me, "We don't get to dress up very often anymore so we decided to wear our best duds."
"Isn't it kind of warm for that?" I asked.
"There's air conditioning every where," she told me.
"Well, you look really hot," I told her, "The sexy kind of hot."
"Thank you," she said, with a smile, "Now, I want to talk to you."
"About what?" I asked.
