Grandmother's Bed

After finishing my first year at University I was obliged to move out of campus accommodation and find digs in the nearby town. Since this meant sharing a house with three or four like-minded souls I was very enthusiastic and spent some time searching the local papers and estate agents' windows.

Accommodation there was in plenty; the problem was that the monthly rental for anything more than a dog kennel was beyond my meagre budget. My mother, who I might add in her defence was funding my higher education, reasonably argued that I could go and live with my grandmother, who lived in the countryside about five miles from the university campus, free of charge.

Needless to say I was not keen on this idea. It was hardly the wild time I had imagined; besides I hadn't seen the old girl for some years, in fact since weekend visits stopped being compulsory. Nevertheless reason prevailed and mum phoned her mother. Grandmother was apparently perfectly willing to put me up and the following Sunday we bundled into the old estate and drove over.

My grandmother owned a large and secluded nineteen twenties house on the outskirts of a charming and desirable village. Although she was only just into her sixties, she had been widowed for nearly ten years and had lived alone all that time. She answered the door with a big welcoming smile and invited us in.

My initial impression, as she walked in front of us towards the drawing room, was that my grandmother had a very good figure and not just for her age. Her waist was trim and her hips flared in a feminine way, leading the eye down to long, stocking clad and very shapely legs.

When she came back into the room with a tray of tea I could see that she was also attractive; she had a rather full face with high cheekbones surrounded by bobbed, dark hair. She also had dazzling green eyes and a full mouth, recently and expertly made up with bright red lipstick. She wore a floral summer dress and as she bent to pour my tea I glimpsed a well- defined cleavage and looked quickly away with embarrassment.

After tea my grandmother showed me around the house. I have to admit it was a great place and hugely better than I could have afforded to rent a room in. I had a large double bedroom with its own en-suite and the run of the house, which included a fabulous library cum office and, the piece de resistance, a small swimming pool in a sheltered and secluded garden.

Not only that, but my grandmother also announced her intention of cooking all my meals and generally attending to all my needs. My one reservation was that I would have to repay her generosity by spending time with her and in my mind she was an old lady and therefore boring.

I moved in in late September, a couple of weeks before term started. Within a few days I realised that my fears of boredom were groundless. Grandmother, or Sylvia as she asked me to call her, was fun, really good fun! She had a great sense of humour, she was interested in almost everything and she was a good listener. In fact I think I had the best of the bargain, she probably thought I was boring!

Sylvia wasn't averse to a drink or two and we spent many a happy evening playing music, chatting and drinking our way through a bottle of wine and sometimes two at weekends. A couple of times she took me out for a civilised meal. I made the effort and put a collar and tie on. She invariably looked great for sixty two, usually choosing a figure hugging dress, dark stockings and high heels.

She was careful with her make-up and choice of nail varnish and I had the strange experience on more than one occasion of being aware of other men in the restaurant ogling her.

Despite being a normal horny twenty-year-old who masturbated at least twice a day and sometimes more, I had no real awareness during this period of my grandmother's potent sexuality. It was not that she behaved in any way in an inappropriate manner, she was just sexy to look at; but I was unaware, at least until the incident with the marijuana.

I should add that I was an occasional cigarette smoker; Sylvia was aware of this and did not particularly disapprove, having smoked herself many years ago. In fact once or twice she shared a cigarette with me as we approached the end of the second bottle of Chablis. However, I had not discussed smoking dope with her for obvious reasons, although I had a ready supply from a contact in the University.

One late Saturday afternoon, when I thought Sylvia was out shopping, she came unexpectedly upon me outside the kitchen door smoking a large and obvious splif. There wasn't much point in trying to hide it so I just apologised and said something crappy about not knowing what came over me.

To my surprise she was unperturbed; in fact she was curious and asked me if I had any more. A few minutes later I was in the rather toe-curlingly embarrassing position of showing my grandmother how a joint was constructed. She said that she had tried it once or twice in her twenties (surprise!) and had enjoyed the result.

Further experimenting whilst her husband was alive was out of the question and since his death she had not been in a position to obtain any, even if she'd known how. Somewhat to my relief she opened a bottle of wine and we sipped a glass as I lit the newly rolled joint, inhaled and passed it to Sylvia.

Taking a drag, she inhaled deeply and let the smoke trickle out through her nose and mouth; she took another and passed the joint back to me. We smoked and drank in silence until the joint was finished.

"Roll another one John," she said, a little urgently.

I was glad to comply; this was just like being with the Uni crowd. We smoked that one and drank more wine. I felt wonderful; relaxed and mildly stoned. Sylvia looked the same.

"What did you think?" I asked.

"It makes me feel warm and happy, I love this feeling!"

We were both sitting on the floor in the drawing room by this time, with our backs against a large sofa. Sylvia's skirt had ridden up to the point where her stocking tops were just visible but she hadn't noticed, or didn't care. For the first time it came home to me that my grandmother was wearing stockings and suspenders and I felt a tiny wave of desire come over me, enough to stir my penis. I was further aroused when she said:

"shall we have another bottle and smoke some more?" I think I felt that if she were sufficiently drunk and stoned I could cop a look at her stocking tops a bit more, or even her knickers.

By the last half of the next bottle, and two more substantial joints, we were both off with the fairies, giggling and saying stupid things and giggling even more. Sylvia's skirt was by now almost up to her waist and I could see the bare flesh above her stocking tops. Vaguely hoping to start an inappropriate line of conversation, I motioned to her legs.

"Do you always wear stockings and suspenders, Sylvia?"

"Yes, they're really comfortable, they feel sexy and they don't make my fanny sweat." At this she burst out laughing. She gave me a comically arch look.

"Do you approve of your grandmother wearing stockings?"

"You've got great legs so why not?"

By this time I had got a full blown erection, which was straining at my trousers. I was rather insolently sitting with my legs stretched out and making no attempt to hide it. Sylvia poured the last of the wine. My erection was obvious and she looked at it as she passed me my glass.

"Well I can see you're a fan of old fashioned lingerie."

I didn't know quite how to handle this so I just grinned and sipped my drink.

"Thank you for the compliment. It's been a while since somebody said I have good legs."

"You're a really attractive lady," it was out before I really knew what I intended to say. Sylvia gave me a rather strange smile.

"And you're my grandson." She stood, leaned over me and kissed me on the lips, holding the kiss for just a fraction of a second longer than protocol may have demanded.

"And I'm stoned and drunk and I'm going to bed, I'll see you in the morning." She left the room and I sat and thought about the evening and her legs and the feel of her lips on mine.

The following day temperatures soared and I was by the swimming pool by eleven o'clock. I hadn't seen my grandmother that morning although I had heard her car leave at around eight o'clock. I was drifting into a somnolent trance, half listening to the garden sounds of bees and birdsong when I heard the patio doors open.

"I think I'll join you."

A few minutes later she appeared in a black one-piece and as she arranged a recliner next to mine I took the opportunity to examine her out of the corner of my eye. The bathing costume showed her figure off to perfection and she had obviously taken some care with her make-up that morning. On top of that she was wearing scarlet nail varnish, something that has always turned me on. The net result was a stirring in my swimming trunks that I had to roll over hurriedly to hide.

We spent what was left of the morning swimming and sunbathing and around two o'clock Sylvia asked me if I would like a glass of wine. The glass turned into two or three and by the late afternoon we were both a bit silly and giggly. Eventually my grandmother announced that she was too drunk to cook and was ordering a takeaway. She came back from the phone saying that the meal would be here in thirty minutes.

"Well, that just about gives you time to dress for dinner."

"Oh and what do you suggest? Stockings I suppose?"

"Well you do look pretty fantastic in them," I said, hoping like mad that she'd go along with it.

She disappeared upstairs and came down a quarter of an hour later wearing black stockings, a tight-fitting back skirt, white silk blouse and black high-heeled shoes.

"Wow give us a twirl."

Sylvia obligingly spun round allowing me to see that the stockings were seamed. My stomach contracted and all the blood in my body drained to my cock. Seeing the expression on my face Sylvia smiled a little smile.

"After what you said last night about my legs I went out this morning and bought a pair of seams. I had a devil of a job to find a decent pair that didn't look too tarty."

After the meal I rolled a joint while grandmother cleared away. I was full of nervous tension. The possibilities of the evening hardly bore thinking about. Eventually we sat down, side by side on the settee and I lit the joint, taking a rather large drag and letting the smoke trickle out of my mouth and nostrils. I handed it to Sylvia who also took a long pull. She inhaled deeply then, to my amazement, leaned across, gently placed her mouth on mine and slowly exhaled the marijuana smoke into my mouth.

"That's how we did it in my day," she said after pulling away. "It made it all go further."

She handed me back the joint and I took another monster pull. This time I too leaned over. Sylvia met me half way, her mouth slightly open, and I placed my lips against hers and exhaled gently. Time passed and we drank more wine and shared more dope. I was intensely aroused and desperate to take an irreversible step, but I held back, frightened of spoiling a magical evening. Eventually my grandmother rose.

"If I have any more wine or dope I'll not be responsible for my actions."

"Suits me," I said, sensing the evening was about to slip beyond my grasp.

Sylvia laughed and, as the night before, leaned over and kissed me goodnight. This time she let the kiss linger and opened her mouth a little. Almost choking, I put my right hand on the back of her head and very gently increased the pressure. We kissed like this for at least thirty seconds, which doesn't sound long but is if it's the first time you've really kissed your grandmother! Eventually she disengaged.

"Thank you, that was lovely, the evening was lovely. You make me feel special." She kissed me again and walked slowly out of the room and upstairs.

For the next few days I was obliged to actually do some course work and I secreted myself in my room, seeing little of my grandmother and knuckling down to some assignments that had been outstanding for too long. One morning I got a call from my mother who asked me if I had any plans for my grandmother's birthday on the forthcoming Saturday. Of course I hadn't had the faintest notion that it was her birthday.

"Yes, I'm taking her out to dinner to thank her for everything she's done for me," I improvised and everything I hope she'll do for me in the future I added silently.

Mother was really pleased and called me a kind and selfless boy, which I felt a little guilty at.

"Sylvia," I said at dinner, "I'd like to take you out for a meal on Saturday evening to celebrate your birthday and to thank you for looking after me while I've been living here." She was touched.

"Thank you, that's a lovely thought but how will you afford it on your grant? I'm not a cheap night out you know!" She laughed at my confusion. "I'm sorry to tease you, I'd love to go but I'm paying." I started to protest but she cut me short.

"My birthday present will be a handsome and attentive escort for the evening." I liked the attentive bit, but escort made me sound like a gigolo. Still, she was right, I couldn't really afford it.

"Thank you, I'll book for 7:30 and arrange some taxis."

As a student I didn't have an extensive wardrobe and in truth I was a bit scruffy. So I made an effort for Saturday, having my hair washed and cut, shaving carefully and dressing in a decent jacket and trousers and a really quite stylish shirt that Sylvia had bought me last Christmas. I even polished my shoes. Sylvia appeared just before the taxi arrived. She looked gorgeous. Barely black stockings, a sheath style red silk dress with a little black jacket and four-inch black court shoes. Again, she had made up carefully and tied her hair back. She wore dark red nail varnish. I was rendered almost speechless.

"Well, do I look ok?"

"You look fabulous. I'll be the envy of all the men in the restaurant." And doubtless some of the women too, I thought but refrained from saying so.

La Lopezza, the Italian restaurant I'd booked, was actually quite good. The staff made you feel comfortable, the service was good, the food was ok and, best of all, we were given a private table in a dim corner of an alcove off the main restaurant area. The table was round and rather small and one side butted up against a radiator so we had to sit quite close together, which suited me. The whole set up was making me nervously horny with butterflies and a nascent erection. Sylvia started with a gin and tonic while I had a beer. We talked continuously, hardly noticing the arrival of the anti-pasta and the first bottle of Pinot being opened. It was a marvellous evening. Halfway through the main course I moved my right leg which was feeling a little cramped and met Sylvia's left leg. I mumbled sorry and started to move my leg back but she smiled and, putting her hand on my leg pulled it toward her.

"There's not much room so don't worry about a little contact." The nascent erection, which had been simmering on and off for most of the meal, now swelled to operational size. The rest of the meal was a dream of keenly felt contact and of fighting urges to touch her and even kiss her. Over the coffee I looked in her eyes, in what I hoped was a suggestive manner.

"This has been one of the nicest evenings of my life, Sylvia and I have never taken out anyone as attractive and sexy as you. Obviously I'm disappointed that you're not wearing your seamed stockings, but otherwise you look incredible."

She smiled and reached out to take my hand.

"Thank you! I've have a really lovely evening. You may be young but you know how to treat a lady and make her feel special. And with your looks that'll be a deadly combination. I thought about the seamed stockings but I decided we'll keep those for indoors." At this I nearly swooned. I reached out for her other hand and we sat like that for a few minutes until the waiter appeared with the bill.

In the taxi home I made sure we both got into the back and when the courtesy light had gone off, and we were on our way, I reached out and took Sylvia's hand again, applying some pressure. To my delight she returned the pressure and moved a little closer to me on the seat. Encouraged, I used my other hand to stroke the back of her hand, at one point even bringing it up to my lips and gently kissing it.

At home, I held the door open for Sylvia and closed it behind us. I had reached a pitch of nervous excitement in the taxi and knew that if I didn't act now I may never. Without saying anything, I stood in front of her and placed a hand each side of her waist, drawing her gently towards me and giving her plenty of time to pull back. She came towards me without resistance and we both tilted our heads slightly and closed our eyes for the first kiss. This time there was no mistaking the intent. Her mouth opened against mine and the tip of her tongue slid into my mouth to dart against mine. My arms went around her and hers went around my neck and we were locked in the most passionate kiss of my life. She was incredible, exploring my mouth with her tongue, sucking and nibbling on my lips, pressing the back of my head to increase the contact. My hand slid down the silkiness of her back and onto her buttocks. I pulled her towards me pressing her crotch into my erection. For a few seconds she kissed me even more wildly, even moaning slightly, before breaking away and looking with fierce eyes at me. I braced myself for the inevitable guilt and "this is so wrong". What she said was:

"John, we've reached the point of no return. We've been approaching it for weeks. We either stop here or we go to bed together. Which one is it to be?"

"Bed," I said, hardly believing that all my dreams were about to come true; my fabulous, sexy grandmother was actually going to take me to her bed.

"Get us both a glass of wine. We need to talk before we do anything else, and actually a joint would be a great idea if you've got any."

I had, we sat on the settee sipping and swapping smoke, me with my arm around Sylvia's waist.

"Perhaps you thought I was going to exclaim with shock how wrong all this is?"

"Well, yes, that's what I thought you'd say."

Sylvia took a large sip of her wine.

"Incest, where it involves non-consent, child abuse and, god-forbid, genetic defects, is totally wrong. Where it's between two consenting adults, who cannot possible conceive I don't see the harm. I'm sure this isn't a widely held tenet so before we take the final step, you must promise me that you will tell no one, ever, under any circumstances. Is that clear?"

"Completely."

"Good, I'm sorry to be so heavy, I want this as much as you, probably more. I've been without a man for years, but it has to be our secret. No inappropriate touching in public, no double entendre, nothing to suggest that we're lovers."

"I promise," I said, leaning over and kissing her again.

"Well then, shall we go to bed?"

Without a word being spoken we went to her bedroom rather than mine. She had a fine four-poster king-size, with beautiful Egyptian cotton covers. Turning to face me and we kissed again, the passion mounting. Again I slid my hands around her bum and crushed her crotch against my rock-hard cock. She broke the kiss and started undoing my shirt buttons, pulling it off me and starting on my belt. With my trousers open she pushed me back on the bed and pulled them off with my socks. Kneeling down between my legs she slid her hands under the waist band of my boxers.

"I've felt it a couple of times through your trousers, now I want to see it and touch it and taste it." I lifted my hips allowing her to pull the shorts down and off. I was ragingly hard and pre-cum was leaking from the tip of my cock. Sylvia gasped slightly.