For the Love of Gramma, Too

"So now show me why I was so crazy about her."

Pat took my cock into her mouth and began to suck it good for me. She was no Jessie, but in all honesty, Jessie had time to learn my body while this was just Pat's second time. She'd get it eventually. I'd make sure of that. I gave a deep sigh. "What's wrong, Mark? Am I not doing it right? Tell me what to do. I want you to be completely satisfied with me."

"No, no; you're fine," I told her. "I was just trying to decide if I wanted to cum in your beautiful mouth, your hot pussy, or your tight ass."

"Well, if you have the time, why not all three?"

"I think I'm falling in love with you," I said with a smile. It was meant to be a joke, but it seemed to fuel Pat on to ensure that I crawled away happy. "Are you going to swallow my cum, Pat?"

"Please, Mark. I need it. Please cum in my mouth so I can swallow it."

I closed my eyes and imagined Gramma sucking my cock. I busted my first nut of the night, and Pat, true to her word, devoured every drop.

I got her back on the couch and sank my still-hard cock deep into her fat pussy. Shit, it felt good. Even twenty minutes later, after I had cum, I didn't want to pull out of her, but then Pat reminded me that, "You promised you'd cum in my ass, Mark. Remember? I need you to do that. I need you to let me be the lover to you that Jessie was."

Right now, Jessie was the furthest thing from my mind. I was cheesin' on Gramma, imagining that it was her ass I was now plugging. After thirty minutes of hard labor, I caught my final nut of the night. I collapsed on top of Pat, completely spent. She told me I could stay the night, and I took her up on her offer.

I awoke the following morning with Pat sucking my cock. Actually, what woke me up was her gagging on it as she tried to deep throat me. She finally gave up, though, and just concentrated on giving me a decent blow job. I came, spurred on by the thought that Gramma was the one providing the lip service.

Around three that day I got a call from Stephen, who said we needed to talk. I invited him over, and thirty minutes later we were sitting on the front porch, each drinking a Bud. Although he did not immediately address the Pat situation, he eventually made his way to it. "So, what the fuck is this Pat tells me that she and I are through?"

"She told you that?"

"She said you and she were seeing each other now."

I laughed. "I'm just banging her until I find a way to fuck my Gramma."

He studied me hard for a few seconds, then said, "If you had given me any reason other than that, I'd've been ready to kick your ass." More silence, then, "Your Gramma, huh? Why?"

"Because I think you fucking yours was so freakin' hot."

"It was."

"It's all I think about anymore," I told him. "I want to fuck my Gramma so fucking bad, it's driving me crazy."

"You let me know when you do, right?"

"Of course," I responded. "Dude, you're my best friend. Why wouldn't I tell you?"

He smiled at that. "And about Pat? No worries, dude. I've got a whole stable of biddies I'm porkin'. How's she holding out for you, though?"

"She's at that stage where she wants to prove she can be a better lover than Jessie, so it's pretty much no holes barred."

"I love it when they get that mentality." He drank the last of his beer, then asked, "So how are you going about fucking your Gramma? Get her drunk?"

"She doesn't drink."

"Rufie?"

"Dude? Seriously?"

"Hey, it's just a thought."

"I really don't want to trick her into it; I want her to make the decision to do it."

"Dude, I've got it," Stephen announced. "You have to seduce her. Slowly. Make her want you. Make her desire you."

"How do I do that?"

"Check this out." He pulled out his phone, went to iTunes, and pulled up a song called "One Hundred Ways." "Just listen." I did. After the first set of lyrics finished, he said, "See? That's what I mean. Do little things for her. Give her compliments. Buy her what she wants most. At first, she'll be like, 'Look what my grandson did for me,' but after that, she'll appreciate them shits on a deeper level."

"Yeah," I had to agree. "Dude, I think you just handed me my Gramma's pussy on a silver platter."

"Like I said: When you do, let me know. I gotta jet for now, though. I'm meeting one of my lady-friends for some happy time."

I laughed as I stood and walked him to his car. Seduction. He had a point, and I meant to capitalize on it by any means necessary.

Christmas was right around the corner, and I still hadn't found a way to seduce Gramma. One day while she was out, I went into her room to see if anything would jump out at me that might help me in that regard. I began rifling through her drawers. I opened her panty drawer first. I was disappointed that they were all those great big white granny panties, but she was big and a granny, so what more should I expect? Yeah, I sniffed them. So what?

I opened a few more, and nothing. I finally happened upon what she always referred to as a "junk drawer"; you know, that one drawer that seems to accumulate odds and ends that one never knows what to do with? Anyway, I found a scrap piece of paper that looked like it had been around since the Reagan administration. The following items were written on it:

(1) Badaash Crystal Salt and Pepper Shakers

(2) Original Norman Rockwell Painting

(3) Faberge Egg

(4) 14K Rose Gold Carved Salmon Coral Cameo Pendant

(5) Jade Buddha Chess Set

I got a pen and paper and wrote these things down, then went to my computer and began to research them. All in all, if I were to purchase these items, it would set me back in excess of $4400.00. Was that too steep a price to pay with no guarantee that I'd get what I wanted from it? When all was said and done, I really wouldn't be out any money as this was more than likely the interest I had accrued in my savings account over the past year. I decided to do it. As I contacted each vendor, I made but one request: Leave a note in the box that read, "With Love, MisterE."

I called Stephen to make sure it was okay to send them to his house so that they wouldn't arrive en masse at Gramma's, and he was like, "Yeah, sure, dude. Whatever."

"Do me a favor, though? Once they arrive, get another address label and put Gramma's name and address over yours."

"No problem."

Before the packages began to arrive, that is to say, before Gramma began being lavished with expensive gifts, I had to built to it. You know, start small and work my way up? Therefore, the first thing I did was place a box of Whitman's Samplers Chocolates in a gift bag and leave them on a chair on the front porch so she would see them when she got home. She did, and brought them in the house to show me.

"Did you hear anyone out front today?"

"No, Gramma. When I got home, I got my shower and got on the internet. Why?"

"Lookie here," she said, and pulled the chocolates from the bag. "Oh, there's a card." She read it. "Sweets for a sweet lady. Mister E." She studied the card. "Mister E. Now, who do I know whose name begins with an E?"

"It could be his first name or his last name," I said as I approached. "Let me see." She handed me the card. I studied it a few seconds, then said, "You know, Gramma, I think you're reading this card wrong."

"How so?" she asked as she made her way to my side and looked it over again.

"See how the capital E is next to the small R?" She nodded. "I don't think that's a typo; I think it might read 'MisterE,' as in 'Mystery.'"

"Oooo, you may be right."

"Looks like you have a secret admirer."

She smiled a genuinely happy smile. "You think so? At my age?"

"You're not so old," I told her, "and you're an attractive woman. Any man with common sense could see that."

"If you weren't my grandson, I'd just eat you up," she said as she pinched my cheeks. She walked away as she opened the box of chocolates. Round one: Me.

The following day, I sent Gramma a dozen roses. She answered the door when they were delivered, and called to me once the delivery person had left. "Mark! Mark! Come see." I went to her. "Just look at them, will you?"

"They're beautiful, Gramma," I said with a smile. "Is there a card?"

"Yes. Let me see." She set the vase on the breakfast nook, opened the envelope, and read: "I wanted these roses to see how beautiful you are. With affection, MisterE. Oh, wow." She grew silent. "You don't suppose I have a stalker on my hands, do you?"

"Gramma, why would you even say that?" I asked, truly puzzled. It certainly wasn't the reaction I thought I'd see. "I think this guy is being mysteriously romantic. No harm in seeing where it goes." She still had a shroud of doubt about her. "Hey, look at it this way: If he is a meanie, then you have me to protect you, right?"

"Right!" she said, smiling again. "Okay, let's see where it goes from here." Round 2: Me.

The following day, Gramma was treated to a singing telegram courtesy of yours truly. I had long known that her favorite song was "Evergreen" by Barbara Streisand, so that's the song she got. She cried as it was sung by a Streisand impersonator; her voice was uncannily like the real thing. Once the song was over, she was handed a card. "What does it say?" I asked.

She was still wiping the tears from her eyes as she read, "I hope the sentiment isn't too forward. I would really like to get to know you. You are my Ms.Tree as I am your MisterE." She took a calming breath. "Mark, what should I do?"

"Are you scared, Gramma?"

"No. Actually, I'm excited!"

I smiled. "Good for you! He seems serious, though. I think you two should talk."

"But he is yet to leave me any contact information," she pointed out.

"Ah, he's probably building to it," I assured her. "And hey, chocolates? Roses? And now a singing telegram? The guy must be loaded if he can afford all this, huh?"

"Mayhap he is," Gramma said. "Mayhap he is." She sauntered to her room humming "Evergreen." Another round for the Gipper.

I made it a point to not be home the next day when the mail arrived. When I got home, Gramma waved an envelope at me. "Lookie here, Mark. An actual correspondence."

"Did he give his real name?" I asked excitedly.

"No, he's still going by MisterE, but listen to this: Dearest Lady, it pains me that I do not know the name of the woman who has captured my heart. Then again, I am content to know you as Ms. Tree for the moment. I am uncertain as to if I should yet divulge my real name or remain MisterE. Perhaps we can discuss this further, if you so desire. You may contact me at MisterE @ Fibrenet.com." She seemed to be reading it again, then said to me, "So, what do you think? Should I contact him?"

"He seems sincere," I said in way of an answer. "What could it hurt?"

"I think I'll go do it right now," Gramma said, and made her way to her room.

That night at dinner, I asked, "Have you heard back from him yet?"

"No. Maybe it was all just a joke. A cruel, cruel joke on an ugly old woman."

"Gramma! Just listen to yourself. Don't you think that maybe he has a job and can't readily answer personal emails at the moment? Or, maybe something has come up in his personal life. Who knows? It could be anything." Little did she know that I had drafted a response to her inquiry, and when she called me to dinner, I pressed send. When dinner was over, she'd check her tablet and see the email from her admirer.

"You're right. I'm sorry I said those things. I'm sure I'll hear from him eventually."

"Tell you what: I'll do dishes tonight. You run along and get your bath. Wheel of Fortune will be on in a bit. Just sit back and relax."

She thanked me and went to her room, and immediately I heard her shouting, "Mark! Mark! He responded. It must have been while we were eating dinner."

"See? What did I tell you?"

"Would you like me to read it to you?"

"I really wouldn't understand it if I didn't know what you said to him first, Gramma."

"Oh. Right," she said. "Okay, I wrote to him and said, 'MisterE, You certainly are a mystery to me, but you have managed to bring a smile to my lips and my heart. I wish to know more about you. Please, unravel this mystery for me. Sincerely, Mildred.' What do you think?"

"It was a good response, Gramma. I see you gave your name. Do you think this will prompt him to give you his?"

"I was hoping so. Here's his response to me: 'Dearest Mildred, Finally, a beautiful name to go with the beautiful face that has captivated me these past few weeks. You may be wondering how I know where you live. I was in line behind you when you were at Winton's Furniture and Appliance. You gave the clerk your address so he could deliver a new sofa. I memorized your address even as you looked back at me and smiled. I cannot divulge much more at this point, save to say that you are constantly on my mind. I can assure you that this is not a game, nor am I a seedy individual looking to take advantage of you. I hope our continued correspondence will eventually convince you of this. Until our words touch again, Alex.' Did you hear that? Till our words touch again. How beautiful is that?"

"Wow, Gramma. This guy really has you happy-go-lucky, doesn't he?"

She smiled. "Alex—hey! He shares your name."

My name is Marcus Alexander Coldwell. I smiled.

"I think he's sincere. I'm going to email him back right now," and she was off, once again humming "Evergreen." I was nailing it!

I showered, watched a little TV, called Stephen and talked ... normal stuff. I wasn't in a hurry to check that email. It would be there when I was ready for it. I began thinking of all the wonderful things I could do with Gramma once she gave herself to me. It was enough to get me hard, which was enough for me to call Pat. I needed some of her seventy-year-old pussy tonight.

My cock jumped when I thought of how old she was. I was going to make her remind me of her age tonight. Whenever she referred to any part of herself, I was going to have her say, "My seventy-year-old ..." whatever it was. I gave her the three-peat—seventy-year-old mouth, seventy-year-old pussy, seventy-year-old ass—and finally dragged my ass home at one in the morning. She was particularly hot tonight, especially when I started referring to my nineteen-year-old tongue and my nineteen-year-old dick. I had said I would give her up once I nailed Gramma, but as I thought of her now, she might just be worth keeping on the back burner.

The following day, Stephen called to tell me that one of the packages had arrived, so I drove to his house to pick it up. He asked what it was, and I answered, "Seduction," with a smile. He patted me on the back and wished me luck. I stopped by the flower shop before going home. I purchased a single rose in a vase. I wrote on the card, What do twelve roses say that one cannot? With much affection, MisterE.

Gramma was out of the house when I returned home, so I placed the vase on the breakfast nook, then took that opportunity to check the email. Dearest Alex, It was with great joy and even greater enthusiasm that I received your email. Before I go any further, allow me to thank you for the confections, the roses, and the song. Though each were beautiful in their own right, one is even more so than the next. And then there was your letter. I felt you speaking to me. Dare I say I felt your heart speaking to mine? I wish to know more about you. Anything. Until our words touch again, Mildred.

I had her. I knew, right then and there, I had her. Still, I was in for the long con, so I had to play this to its end. Dearest Mildred, reading your words has stirred a longing in my heart that I thought I would never know. Thank you for being the humanly wonderful person you are. You have become so special to me; therefore, I would like to give you something that expresses the extent to which you enthrall me. It may seem a bit much, but my heart tells me that your heart would love nothing less. Please accept it in good will and friendship, and perhaps a promise of what more may come. Till our words touch again, Alex.

I hadn't been home a good hour when Stephen called and told me that two more of the packages had arrived. I told him it could keep till tomorrow. I had to give them out in a certain order, from least valuable to most expensive, and I couldn't do that until they all were in my possession.

I was bored.

I wanted my dick sucked.

I went to Pat's.

When I got home, Gramma was sitting at the kitchen table about to squirm out of her seat. "There you are! Where have you been?"

"Hanging out with friends. Why?"

"I got another email," Gramma said as she pointed at her tablet.

"So, I take it that rose was from your friend as well?" I asked. She smiled and nodded. "I called the flower shop to see if they would identify the man who sent it, but they said that they couldn't divulge that kind of information." She just looked at me. "I was just wanting to see if it was someone you may know. Sorry if I overstepped any boundaries, Gramma."

"You're concerned for me," she said with a warm smile. "I understand, but there's no need to. Listen to this," and she read the email to me.

Once she finished, I asked, "So, the rose is the special gift?"

"I don't think so. I think he may be sending me something else. Did you read the note attached to the rose?"

"That would be like opening your mail," I reminded her. "I wouldn't do that without your permission, Gramma." She smiled at my respect for her privacy, then read it to me. "I must admit: This guy has me curious. He's really sweeping you off your feet. If that isn't the special gift, then what do you think it could be?"

"I haven't the foggiest, but I'm excited to find out."

Three days till Christmas. Stephen called to tell me that the other two packages had arrived. When I got there, he said, "Sotheby's? True Facet? How much is this seduction running you?" I told him. "Shit, man. I hope it's worth it."

"Me, too."

I stopped off at Kay Jewelers after that and picked up a gold chain and locket. I figured I owed Pat something, and this should be fine; especially seeing as to how I placed two pictures inside it. The first was of she and I cheek-to-cheek, and the second was of us kissing. I had the clerk wrap it, then took it to her. She unwrapped it, opened it, then began to cry. She gave me the best blow job of my life. I returned the favor by eating her ass and pussy for two hours straight before unloading into both.

I grabbed the first of the boxes from my trunk, and as I entered the house I called out, "Gramma? Package for you." She hurried from her room, took possession of it, and opened it immediately. She stopped stone cold and just looked. After a minute, she still hadn't said a word, so I said, "Gramma? Is everything alright?"

"How ... How could he have known?" I think she was asking this of herself more than me. She pulled the items from the box and held them aloft for me to see.

"What is it? Salt and pepper shakers?" I asked as I moved closer.

"Not just salt and pepper shakers," she said, still wide-eyed. "These are Badaash Crystal

Salt and Pepper Shakers."

"Okay," I said, feigning ignorance.

"No, Mark. You don't understand. I have always wanted a set of these. How could he have possibly known?"

"Lucky guess?" I offered. "Maybe you and he have the same tastes in finery. I don't know, Gramma, but why question it? It seems like a thoughtful gift. Just accept it."