I have a full-on job and a pretty active social life but, despite that, I thought a lot about Debra over the next ten days or so. To be honest I was a little apprehensive about going over to her house for dinner with just the two of us. Would I be able to resist doing something inappropriate? The truth of the matter was that regardless of her age, I found my grandmother interesting and fun and sexy. Yes, sexy. She looked good and she dressed well and she smelt nice and… I couldn’t put my finger on it but there was something about her that attracted me. Something quite fundamental that seemed to transcend age and family ties. It was crazy of course; there could never be anything between us and she would, I was sure, be horrified if I made a move on her. But then she’d held me as we danced and I’d felt her body against mine and neither of us had seemed to want to pull away. And some of the things she’d said…
So I was a bit nervous when I rang her front doorbell just before seven pm and she opened the door and stepped aside to let me in. I gave her the flowers I’d bought at the supermarket on the way over and pecked her on the cheek and she thanked me and went into the kitchen to find a vase. I followed her in, admiring her cerise satin blouse and black skirt and the slimness of her ankles in their black panty hose (or stockings?). I felt a tingling in my stomach as I imagined what she would look like in her underwear.
We chatted in the kitchen as she finished cooking dinner, me sitting at the big, scrubbed pine table, and then we moved to her dining room where she’d lit candles and laid out napkins.
Very romantic, I thought.
But the meal was excellent and the wine was good and we talked long after the meal was eaten, long into the night. I can’t remember everything we talked about but the conversation was easy and amusing and we laughed a lot and then it was gone midnight and the wine bottle was empty and we’d had a liqueur on top of that so it was lucky that I was walking home; it was only about twenty-five minutes from my flat in the centre of town.
We stood in the hall, a slight pre-parting awkwardness between us.
‘Thanks, Gran, that was a fantastic meal.’
‘Less of the “Gran”. Call me Debra. And thank you for coming around, I know how busy you are these days. I’ve had a lovely time too, Matthew,’ she said, softly. I told myself not to do what was forming in my mind but after an evening in Debra’s company, and with all the drink, my resistance was low. Don’t! I told myself but there was a roaring in my ears and my guts were churning and my legs were wobbly as I reached slowly out and took my grandmother in my arms and she looked up at me and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking as I lowered my head to hers but I knew that she wasn’t pushing me away.
There should have been a roll of thunder or a flash of lightning as our lips touched that first time, but there was just us in the gloomy hall. I pressed my lips against my grandmother’s and Lord almighty she pressed back and she put her hands on my shoulders as she had done when we danced together all those years ago and I opened my mouth and I felt her mouth open against mine and amazingly I felt her tongue slide into my mouth and I sucked it in and worked my lips against hers and for a long minute we kissed like lovers who’ve been parted for too long.
Then it was over and the kiss was broken and we were staring at each other’s faces in the dim light and Debra was shaking slightly and I think probably I was too.
‘I should go,’ I said.
‘Will you come again?’ she whispered. ‘Soon?’
I probably should have said no. Well of course I should have said no; she was, and is, my grandmother, and even at that stage I think both of us knew what was going to happen. The truth is that I wanted it to happen, wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. And so did Debra, as she told me much later. So I said yes and she asked if I could come around during the week and we fixed on Tuesday, which was only four days away.
Just before I left, I kissed her hard and she kissed me back and dug her fingernails into the fleshy part of my shoulders and I held her tight and ran my hands down the back of her silky blouse.
To say that I spent the next few days in a frenzy of sexual arousal would be a gross understatement; I masturbated constantly, even in the toilets at work. And as I pumped my throbbing member, in bed or on the settee in my miniscule lounge or sitting in a cubicle in the Gents, I thought of Debra and how she had felt in my arms and how her mouth had felt against mine and how she had tasted. I rehearsed in my head how I would seduce her and finally take her to bed and how I would be gentle as I penetrated her and how I would bring her to a long-awaited climax. It was all nonsense of course. Long-awaited climax? I had no idea if my grandmother masturbated. I had no real idea if she actually wanted full sex or if she just wanted a comforting hug and a few kisses.
Tuesday evening finally came and I walked slowly over to my grandmother’s house, savouring the anticipation, my guts churning with anxiety and tension. I was carrying wine and flowers. I had considered bringing an overnight bag but I decided that would be too forward.
It was still light when I rang her doorbell and saw the shape of her through the frosted glass, coming down the hall. She opened the door and I went in and gave her the flowers and wine and we went through to the kitchen where she put them on the table and turned to face me.
‘Hello, Matthew, it’s good to see you.’
She was wearing an apron over a flowery summer dress with a full skirt. Her legs were bare and she’d got a lot of make-up on, giving her an attractive but slightly doll-like appearance; her hair was in a coil on top of her head; she’d painted her elegant fingernails a deep red colour. I felt my chest constrict with nerves.
‘You look lovely, Gran. Sorry, Debra.’
‘Thank you.’
She seemed nervous too, hardly meeting my eye. I stepped forward and put my arms around her and bent to kiss her but she took my arms and disengaged them and stepped back a half pace.
‘Sorry. Dinner’s at a critical phase. Perhaps you’d like to open a bottle of wine.’
I didn’t know whether she was just prevaricating. Something didn’t feel a hundred percent right, but I opened the bottle and poured us a glass each and I sat at the big kitchen table and we chatted about our weekends and so forth while Debra fussed with the oven and stirred things in pans on the hob.
It was ready in a half-hour or so and we moved to the dining room where Debra had put the flowers on the table and, as before, lit candles. The food was delicious but there was an undertone of something and I was glad when the meal was over and maybe I could find out what it was all about.
We cleared up together and when it was done and the dishwasher was humming busily I once again went to take Debra in my arms and this time she didn’t resist as I encircled her waist and bent my head to hers. In fact she tilted her head and our lips met softly and gently, almost tentatively, as though last Friday’s kiss had never happened. I took it very slowly, lightly massaging her lips with mine, pulling her to me gently, tentatively, feeling her breasts against my chest and her loins against mine. Debra held my upper arms and moved her mouth against mine and then, as before, I felt her tongue against my lips and I opened my mouth to let her in and she slid her tongue into me and I went wobbly legged with desire and arousal.
The kiss got harder, more insistent, mouth pressed to mouth, lips working, sucking tongues, tasting saliva. Then we broke, and looked at each other, both panting slightly.
‘Are you ok?’ I asked softly. ‘You seemed a bit… you know, earlier.’
‘It’s nerves, Matthew,’ she said, softly. ‘And conscience perhaps. I’m fine now.’
As if to underline this she put her hand on the back of my neck and pulled me down for another kiss and this second kiss was an all-out, no holds barred lovers’ kiss as we mashed our mouths together and I ran my hands over her back and down to fondle her small, pert buttocks. My grandmother put her arms around my neck and pressed her fingers into my back and I felt her nails on my flesh and the sensation sent shudders through me. I was ragingly hard and fighting an urge to push my grandmother onto the kitchen table and have her there and then.
As if divining my thoughts Debra broke the kiss.
‘Let’s go into the sitting room, it’ll be more comfortable.’
It was nearly dark by now, the only light coming from a streetlamp on the pavement outside, but Debra made no move to switch on any of the lamps that were dotted around the room. Instead she led me to her big, comfortable settee and I sat down and, to my intense and delighted surprise, my grandmother, instead of sitting down next to me, sat down in my lap, her legs straddling my hips.
Her action could hardly have been a clearer indication of how she wanted the evening to progress, and my iron-hard erection, which must have been obvious to her as it was pressing against her loins, was an equally clear indication that I was right there with her.
In fact it wasn’t hugely comfortable with her sitting on my cock, even with her slight frame, but the sensation of her pressing down on me, and the shocking intimacy of my grandmother sitting on me like this was too good for me to say anything. In fact when she asked me softly if I was comfortable I replied: ‘Oh, God, yes!’
Then she took my head in her hands and leaned down and kissed me and I kissed her back and it was sensuous and lingering and intense and we explored each other’s mouths and tongues and teeth and gums for long moments. My arms were around her, pulling her to me, her hands were stroking my cheeks, moving down to my neck and shoulders, fingers running over my skin, stroking, exploring, pressing her nails lightly into my flesh so that I shuddered at her touch.
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