A Winters Tale

The Great Snowfall.

In the past, I would never have considered my grandmother as someone with whom I might have sex — that was until this winter. The summer had been long and hot, with the ground baking hard and the greenery fading to a bland muddy brown colour that gave the landscape a washed-out appearance.

Autumn provided some respite, and sporadic showers reintroduced a smidgeon of greenery but had negligible impact on the devastation of summer. And then suddenly, the temperatures plummeted. As the end of November approached, the first flakes of snow drifted lazily down from the sky.

Within an hour, at least six inches must have been deposited; my mother quickly becoming concerned that, my grandmother, might struggle. I was sent out into the worsening conditions with a bag full of provisions, and instructions to ensure that the old lady stayed indoors and kept warm until the weather turned.

Gran was cheery when I arrived; my mother had already phoned ahead. She had made us both a bowl of hot, steaming soup, and we spent the afternoon and early evening playing dominoes and whist.

By the time I decided to make a move and head for home, the weather outside had changed again. I opened the front door to a blizzard; at least another six to nine inches appeared to have fallen, and the flurries were now so dense, that I could not see more than a couple of feet from the door.

She forbade me from taking even one step outside, immediately phoning my mother to say that I would be staying for the night and not to worry. Inside the house, it was cosy and warm, and I saw the logic of staying where I was, rather than brave the freezing elements outdoors.

We retired at eleven-thirty, and I followed her upstairs, heading for the spare bedroom. She had put out a set of pyjamas, which, from the look of them, I presumed had belonged to my grandfather. Now, I have never been one for sleeping in clothes, so I tossed them into a corner and, after undressing, climbed into bed naked.

It felt strange at first; it must be over twelve years since I had last slept here. I have vague memories of this room when my mother was pregnant. Switching off the bedside lamp, I tiptoed across to the window and opened the curtains wide, watching as the white flakes continued to fall.

I was transfixed for what seemed like aeons until the falling temperature of the room and the goosebumps on my torso, had me quickly scuttling to my bed as I snuggled beneath the blankets

The room was brightly lit when next I opened my eyes, squinting against the glare as bright light streamed in through the still-open curtains. Shivering a little, I threw back the sheets and padded to the window once more. The radiator was slowly beginning to get warm as I pressed against it, gazing out to a world now brilliant white. Opening the window for a second, I glanced down and saw that gran’s garden and the rest of the lane had disappeared, the snowy blanket coming halfway up the height of her front door.

After washing and dressing quickly, I descended to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking. Gran was already up and about as she set the table and plonked a hearty breakfast in front of me.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you are going home today either, so I thought we would get something hot inside us, and then we need to clear the snow away from the doors and the outside walls. We don’t want the house to get cold or for melting snow to come inside.”

It took nearly three hours for us to complete the task, continually returning indoors to get warm before resuming the clearance operation. After lunch, she got out some board games, and we spent the afternoon competing against each other.

Even though the circumstances outside had changed, gran still stuck to her normal routine, and at precisely five-thirty, we sat down to our evening meal.

Now, normally at home, I simply have a glass of water with my meal, but Gran has always had wine with hers and insisted that evening on opening a bottle as usual.

I’m not a great wine connoisseur, much preferring a few bottles of beer. As a consequence, I tended to drink it as I would a glass of ale. By the time the meal was over, I could feel my head beginning to spin.

Once everything was cleared away, we tried the television, but the snow had messed up the reception, so we quickly turned it off again. The evening followed the same pattern as the previous one, the only difference being that she opened a second bottle of wine as soon as the first was empty. She had called my mother again earlier to say it was impossible to get out and that I would be staying over once more.

She was told that even if I escaped from her house, I would never reach mine, let alone get inside; it seemed the village as a whole was snowed in.

By the time the second bottle was consumed, we were both well intoxicated; each conversation started well enough but soon went downhill with giggles and fits of laughter. I’m not sure how we got onto the subject, but Gran has always wanted to know the ‘ins and outs’ of a cat’s backside and she eventually decided that my love life would be an excellent topic.

On any other evening, she may have asked if I currently had a girlfriend and what her name was before moving on to other questions. But tonight, after two bottles of wine and the prospect of opening a third, her questions were more rambling.

“Have you currently got a young lady?” she asked.

I shook my head; the last one had disappeared in a fit of pique when I’d stupidly confirmed to her that, “Yes, her backside did look big in those pants.”

Gran roared with laughter as I told her.

“So, you’re going without at the moment,” she slurred, sloshing some more wine into her glass.

“It’s the one thing I do miss,” she told me. “I need to find myself a man.”

In other circumstances, I would probably have been embarrassed at the thought of discussing my love life, especially after the way she had commented.

The alcohol in my system, though, had completely eroded my inhibitions, and the flippant remark was out of my mouth before my brain had a chance to stop it. “Well, if you ever need a bit on the side, Gran, you only need to ask.”

The comment didn’t seem to faze her as she glanced in my direction for a split second. “Hmm, I may take you up on that,” she said, which caused us both to fall about laughing.

The heating had been going all day, and as the evening went on, the temperature of the room combined with the wine I had consumed soon meant that I was feeling flushed. I was about to remove my pullover when she stopped me. It looked as though she was doing some quick calculation before jumping up and staggering into the hallway. She reappeared moments later with a headscarf, which she instructed me to tie around my neck.

I looked at her flummoxed, wondering what the hell she was planning.

“Poker?” she asked. “Or better still, strip poker?” She sniggered mischievously.

“We both have the same number of clothes now.”

She had over the years taught me how to play the game for pennies or matchsticks, and I was now quite accomplished; sometimes she won more than I did, and other times I won more of the games.

In my befuddled state, it was as though she had thrown down the gauntlet, and I was determined that I would still be mostly dressed while she would be sitting naked.

As we started to play, it was still nothing more than a competition, one that I was determined to win. She replenished both our glasses, leaving me surprised that I had suddenly developed a taste for wine as I downed a third of the glass in one gulp. I lost the first game, leaving the scarf in place and removing my jumper so that I felt cooler.

I won the next two games and watched as her cardigan vanished over the back of her chair and then as she went to remove one of her stockings. She knew exactly what she was doing, slowly pulling her skirt up to the top of her leg and showing me a vast expanse of thigh. She unfastened the stocking from her suspender belt and provocatively slid it down before tossing it toward me. The next two games went her way; my concentration destroyed as, between my legs, my cock suddenly decided to take an interest.

The scarf and one of my socks disappeared, leaving her still slightly in the lead.

I managed to win the next game, but it was a close thing.

She laughed as she asked, “You’re determined to get me naked, aren’t you?” Her eyes twinkled as she said it.

I was mesmerised as one by one she unfastened the buttons on her blouse. As I’d already said, it wasn’t something that has ever entered my head, but now I was hungrily waiting to catch my first glimpse of her breasts.

The blouse followed the cardigan over the back of her chair while I gazed at her plump mounds rising and falling in the white cups of her bra. The bulge in the front of my trousers must have been obvious; it was so hard; it had become painful. I’m sure she cheated, because the next thing I knew, I was sitting there in just my shorts, the rest of my clothing having been discarded.

She let me win the next game so that she could reach around behind her and unfasten her bra, her breasts falling free as she removed it. Her dark nipples were already erect, and the throbbing between my legs had grown in intensity. And then I was sitting naked, with nowhere to hide, and to be honest, I made no attempt to; the fact that she could not take her eyes off my erect cock was a turn-on in itself.

Gran raised her skirt once more and removed her other stocking before standing and unzipping it. Easing it over her hips, she let it fall to the floor and then removed the suspender belt and her knickers, leaving her facing me naked.

Let’s face it, she was no model. She was a largish lady, and there was plenty of meat on her; her tits were huge, as was her belly, and her thighs were more than ample. What I did notice was that her mound and fanny were devoid of hair, just a smooth expanse of flesh with an enticing slit between her legs. At that moment, it would not have mattered what she looked like; my cock was demanding any type of sexual release.