The revelation of this latest news about my origins had me reeling. My grandpa is actually my father. My mom is his daughter. All of this is getting me to think about why Aunt Gail keeps her distance. Or Uncle John. They both keep their distance.
Uncle John is two years older than Mom. Aunt Gail is five years younger. I have cousins from both, but I rarely see them, and Mom says it’s because they live a few hundred miles away.
After work that day, I went home intent on cockteasing Grandpa until he pins me down and fucks me royally. I took off my work slacks and underwear and pulled on a pair of very risque Daisy Dukes. The material is riding up into my ass and cunt cracks.
I also put on a t-shirt I had ripped down the front to open it like a button-down shirt, then tied it together just below my firm boobs. Most people would describe me as a small-framed woman measuring only five feet in height and tipping the scales at 101 pounds in weight.
My bust line measures 34 inches, as do my flared hips. My waist is a small 26 inches with an “outie” belly button. I finished dressing and paraded out to the garage in a simple pair of flat canvas slip-on sneakers.
Not really fashionable, but very comfortable. Grandpa, my dad was under his vintage Thunderbird changing the oil. I walked up and straddled his torso as he lay on the creeper. I leaned over the front end, where my tits threatened to spill out of their flimsy confines.
Grandpa looked up and said, “Damit Skyler, your mom will roast your ass with a switch if she sees you dressed like that.
I laughed and said, “Oh, Grandpa, I’m nineteen years old.” “I’m a woman in a modern world.” “I work, make my own money, buy my own clothing, and stay home most of the time. I can wear what makes me comfortable. Stop being an old fuddy-duddy.
Granda retorted, “Fuddy duddy!” as he rolled out from under the car to look directly up at my twat lips wrapped around the thin strip of material holding my cut-off jeans together. He then exclaimed, “Jesus Christ, Skyler, your ass is hanging out of those shorts.”
I laughed and lifted one leg to swing it clear of him so he could get up off the creeper. I know he got a nearly perfect view of my almost-naked twat gash when I did that. The thought sent shivers down my spine.
Grandpa looked away as I turned my gaze to his crotch. He was definitely aroused. He undoubtedly liked what I showed him.
“You can’t go around dressed like that,” he said.
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This story is a work of fiction and may disclose various sexual and social subjects such as female-female sex, male-female sex, sexual reluctance, group sex, non-protected sex, degradation, drugs, alcohol, exhibition, nonconsent, pregnancy, voyeurism, and subrogation. The author neither condones nor condemns any or all of the acts portrayed herein.
Every story must end. Or must it? I implore you, the reader, to tell me through your feedback. Do not comment on the authenticity of any portion of this fictitious writing. Or morality. It is fiction, a fictional story. It is intended solely for entertainment purposes and not to be analyzed for accuracy in any manner. if you read it. Thank you for following and reading my story or stories.
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