My name's Lucy and I'm a 21-year old student from Cornwall, in the south-west of England. I recently came out to my parents, and that's where my story really starts.
I've known since I was 11 years old that I was a dyke. Well, I didn't know what I was for a couple of years, I just knew that I got a hot flush when I looked at other girls in the school changing rooms after swimming, and that I liked frigging myself off to the pictures of nude women in the dirty magazines my holier-than-thou father thought he'd hidden at the back of his wardrobe. Even though I knew I liked women, it was years before I did anything about it: there isn't really much of a gay scene in a small, stifling town in the middle of nowhere, and even though the nearest big city, Plymouth, was an easy trip by train, it seemed miles away when I was 15. So, like most of the other girls I knew, I lost my virginity to a boy the same age as me one night in the bus station, which just convinced me even more that I wasn't attracted to the male sex. I tried a few more, just to be sure, and to relieve the boredom of the place, but basically I couldn't wait to get away to university in London when I was 18. Once I got there, it took me two days to sl**p with my first girl, and I've never looked back since.
To be honest, if it hadn't been for my gran I don't think I'd have ever gone back to Cornwall. It's not that my parents are bad people; not really. It's just that they're like the town itself, small-minded, hypocritical and out of touch with the real world. My dad, who's something big in the local Freemasons, runs the f****y grocery store and, like everyone else in town, my folks are happy to take money from the tourists who swamp the county every summer, and are pretty much its only real source of income, then complain bitterly about them to each other and wish them away.
Gran was almost the only positive thing about my youth in that town. Her name couldn't be more Cornish – May Tregowan – but she's actually from Bethnal Green. She met my granddad when she went on holiday to the Butlins holiday camp at Minehead with her s****r when she was 19. He was working there, and they had an energetic 'romantic encounter' on the crazy golf course one night. To cut a long story short, Gran didn't go back to London with her s****r, she and her new husband returned to his home town to help his father run the shop, and the old boy popped his clogs two years later, leaving my granddad in charge of the place at the age of 24. That same year my mum was born, the oldest of their three daughters.
I never really knew my grandfather – he died from a heart attack when I was two, always a worrier, Gran said. Typical of the parochial nature of the townsfolk, to this day Gran has never been accepted as one of them, even though she's lived there over 40 years and ran the shop with my dad for almost as long, until she retired four years ago at the age of 63. They're very polite and friendly to her, of course, but even folk 20 years younger than her refer to her as "Mrs Tregowan from London." (She's never entirely lost her East End accent.)
It was always Gran I turned to whenever I had one of my frequent rows with my parents, or whenever I was worried about something. I remember when a friend and I decided to go Goth, and I dyed my chestnut hair black and painted my face deathly white. My father shouted at me the moment he saw me, and my mother went on and on at me until I ran from the house in floods of tears, straight down the road to Gran's cottage. She took one look at me and cracked a big grin. Then she said "Come on in Morticia", and gave me a nice cup of tea and a cuddle. Gran and I both thought I looked better with black hair, and I've kept it ever since, although the white make-up's gone, thank God.
It was Gran who told me when I was 13 that my schoolteacher was "talking bollocks" when she said I'd go straight to Hell if I didn't stop denying the existence of God. It was Gran who dragged me, my face burning with embarrassment, straight down to the local doctor's surgery for a prescription of the Pill when she found out I was screwing around; and it was Gran I told when I was 17 that I thought I was a lesbian.
I was terrified how she'd react. I was worried that she'd throw me out of her home, that she'd hate me. In fact, she came and sat next to on the sofa and took my hand between both of hers. Then she said, "Oh Lucy love, that can't have been easy for you. I think you're very brave telling me. We both know, though, that if you are you're going to have to get out of this poky little town. Let's face it, someone like you's going to have to anyway if you don't want to be suffocated."
I hugged her, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Oh Gran, I love you." After I'd calmed down a bit, I asked her, "Do you think I should tell Mum and Dad?"
She rubbed my back gently, and muttered, "Best not Luce, you know what they're like. One day, maybe., when you're quite sure, and you don't have to live with them." It was good advice; but that day finally came a few weeks ago. Uni had finished for the summer and, with enormous reluctance, I was going to spend the break back home. A depression fell on me the moment the train drew near to the town, and was only briefly lifted by a visit to see Gran that same evening.
My parents seemed worse than ever: unpleasant, bigoted little people I could scarcely believe anymore that I was related to. Dad was full of snide comments about how little they heard from me, then started asking what hours I wanted to do in his bl**dy shop. The first thing Mum said to me was, "We wondered if you might bring a young man home with you." That was one of the reasons I didn't see or speak to them more often. Every time I spoke to Mum on the phone she'd ask if I had a boyfriend yet, whether I'd been on many dates, that kind of thing. I wasn't sure she'd have been too impressed if I told her that my last date was with a Polish bodybuilder called Hannah!
I was totally unprepared for the full horror of Mum's onslaught though. Honestly, she was like something out of Pride and Prejudice. Just to shut Dad up I agreed to work part-time in his store, and my first day there Mum kept almost physically pushing me at one of the staff members. "Peter's a nice lad Luce. Very good looking, don't you think? Bit shy though; he hasn't got a girlfriend at the moment." It would have been hilarious if it wasn't so bl**dy annoying.
Then, one Sunday, Mum reached new heights of toe-curling embarrassment. I got back from a walk in the hills, just to get away from them for a few hours, to find the dining room table laid out for afternoon tea. That in itself was strange; we usually ate meals on our laps in the front room, so my parents wouldn't miss a moment of whatever shit was on TV that night. I found out the reason after I'd showered and changed. As I re-entered the room, Mum turned to me and said, "Oh Lucy, this is Mark, our new vicar's son. He's very keen to meet you."
They must have heard the sound of my jaw dropping 20 miles away! I almost turned round and walked straight out, but I was too shocked. Mark was nice enough, in his own way; but it was obvious he was a milksop, and whenever he spoke I found it difficult to keep my eyes off his huge Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He seemed quite surprised at some of my 'radical' opinions, and was clearly disappointed at my view that all religions were a load of balls. In the end I just started taking the piss out of the poor lad, and it became clear he couldn't wait to leave. As the door closed behind him, my mother turned to me and snapped, "For heavens sake Lucille, what is the matter with you? How do you ever expect to attract a man with that sort of attitude?"
I leapt to my feet in anger, my dining chair falling backwards, and shouted back, "I don't want to attract a sodding man! I'm not into fucking men, okay?" The silence which followed that outburst was deafening. My mother burst into tears and rushed into the front room. My father gave me a poisonous look and followed her. I took a deep breath, a long draught of wine, then threw my glass against the wall in sheer fury. I stared at the shattered fragments on the carpet then slouched after my folks. They were sitting on the sofa, Dad's arm around Mum as she pressed a tissue to her eyes.
Feeling as guilty as hell I sank down in an armchair opposite them. "Mum, I'm sorry I shouted at you. Look, Mum, Dad...there's something I need to tell you. I've wanted to tell you for a long time, but I didn't know how to. I didn't mean it to come out like that, but...well, I'm gay. I've always known I was. Please try to understand."
For what seemed like an eternity they both just stared at me. Then Mum leapt to her feet, sobbed, "Oh Lucy, how could you?" and fled from the room. Dad looked apoplectic with rage, his face scarlet around his ridiculous little moustache. He stood up and, like some Victorian landlord, pointed to the front door and said in a low voice, "Get out of my house, you bl**dy pervert."
That really annoyed me. I stood nose to nose with him and snapped, "Oh for fuck's sake, father..." I got no further; I felt a stinging blow across my face as he slapped me, hard enough to make me stagger sideways and make my cheek glow. I stared at him in total disbelief, then stalked from the room and up the stairs, determined not to let him see the tears of shock and rage that were welling in my eyes.
As quickly as I could I threw my belongings into my rucksack and raced down the stairs. My father was standing in the doorway of the front room, his arms folded and his face still distorted with anger. As I dragged open the door to the street, he roared after me, "That's it, go on, get out you fucker. You disgust me!" I raced away from the house, unable to prevent myself from crying.
I had no idea where I was going, but my feet did. Without me even realising it, I found myself ringing Gran's doorbell, choking on my tears. She opened the door and without a word, took me in her arms and led me into the house, stroking my hair and shushing me. Between gulps of breath I told her what had happened. Her lips compressed in anger, and she hugged me to her. Then she said, "I never did like that stupid little man. And as for your mother, I'm ashamed, I didn't bring her up to be a bigot." Gran cuddled me a bit more, then made me a cup of coca and packed me off to bed early in her spare room.
I slept for something like 12 hours, and felt so much better in the morning. I decided to go back to London early – I couldn't stand much longer in that ugly, hateful little town. But I wanted to spend a few days with my granny first, as I hadn't seen enough of her in recent years. We fell into a daily routine: breakfast together, then I'd help her with her housework, then I'd go out for the day, either walking in the hills or borrowing a mate's car and driving to one of the pretty little villages on the coast. A couple of times I persuaded Gran to go with me, and we enjoyed Cornish cream teas in twee little harbour tea shoppes. In the evenings we'd watch the rubbish TV stuff Gran enjoyed – I suspended my critical judgement in order to be with her – and share a glass or two of her homemade wine. I could tell she was upset about the falling out with my parents, and I did phone them once to try and build bridges; Dad answered and hung up on me, so that was that.
One evening, after a good few glasses of wine, we somehow got onto talking about relationships. I told Gran about some of the lovely girls I'd dated – and some of the truly awful ones! – then asked her coyly if she'd ever had ay boyfriends. She gave a sort of sigh, then said, "No, I've been on my own ever since your granddad died."
I was a little surprised, and rather sad about that. "But Gran, that was 18 years ago. You were only in your 40s. Surely you've...I mean...well, when was the last time...."
I felt my face flush as my words ground to a halt, but she knew what I was asking. She gave me a little smile and said, "The last time I had sex was 14th February 1989, two weeks before my Roger passed on." She grinned at the look of astonishment on my face. "Well, let's face it Luce, I'm an outsider, and I had a business to run, and there's never exactly been a ready supply of attractive, eligible, middle-aged men in this inbred shithole of a town."
I'd never heard Gran swear before, and I'd never heard her talk so frankly about her feelings. We were both lost in our thoughts for a while after that. For my part I was thinking how lonely Gran must have been since her husband died. I mean, even now she's a good-looking lady for her age: about four inches shorter than me (I'm five-eight), short silver-grey hair, a relatively unlined face with a nice smile and her own teeth, a still trim figure and, I had previously noticed, a shapely pair of legs.
It was Gran who eventually broke the silence. Out of the blue, she said, "You know, Luce, you're so lucky living in an age when you can be who you really are, and you can sl**p with whoever you want without anyone turning a hair; well, no-one except tossers like your mum and dad." I just stared at her, wondering what on earth was coming next; it was clear the wine had loosened her tongue, but then what she did say next really floored me. "I nearly had an affair with a woman once. She was an older lady, in her thirties I s'pose, Miss Simpkins. She was a tutor at the secretarial college I was attending."
I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing. Half of me wanted to beg Gran to stop before she embarrassed herself, the other half was desperate to hear this tale. Staring into space, and into her past, she continued. "I was 18, and I'd only been with one feller. Miss Simpkins invited me out to a little tea shop one day. Oh, I felt very special. 'Course, all the girls reckoned she was a lezzie. Anyway, she held my hand under the table, then she started stroking my leg through my skirt, then she kissed me – I mean really kissed me, not just a peck on the cheek. She asked me to go back to her flat with her, but I chickened out. After that I could never face her in the college without blushing, and wondering what it would have been like to have sex with another woman. A couple of times I nearly went up to her and asked if I could go to her place with her after all. Then, that summer, I met Roger and fell for him, and that was that. I've often wondered, though, how different my life might have been if I had gone home with Ruby Simpkins that day."
I went to bed in an absolute daze that night, and had an incredible dream featuring me and Gran. I woke up in the morning bathed in sweat, and with a different kind of moisture pooled between my legs. As I lay there, distractedly stroking my pussy lips, I thought about my dream, and a wicked, bizarre plan began to form in my mind. It was absolutely crazy, unthinkable. If I made a mistake I risked losing for ever the love of the one person who mattered more to me than anyone else in the world. Yet I couldn't stop myself wondering whether the alcohol had lowered Gran's inhibitions just enough to drop a bit of a hint to her lesbian granddaughter.
I couldn't meet Gran's eyes at breakfast that morning. If she noticed anything was different to normal she didn't let on. For once I couldn't wait to get away from her, and I excused myself as soon as I could and went for a walk in the hills to think things through. Then, about lunchtime, I boarded a train to Plymouth, still not really sure if I had the nerve, or maybe the insanity, to act on the thoughts that were in my head.
The first thing I did in the city was to go to a trendy hair salon and ask them to cut my shoulder length hair. By the time they'd finished it was as short as a boy's. Then I phoned the one half-decent restaurant in our town and made a reservation for that evening. After that I called Gran and told her to get her glad rags out: I was taking her out to dinner that evening. She was quite surprised, and a bit hesitant, but I wouldn't take no for an answer, and eventually she happily agreed. Next I went to one of those supermarket megastores that sell everything from a loaf of bread to a three-piece suite and bought myself a suit. Not just any suit: this was a stylish man's dress suit, with a bow tie, frilly shirt, cufflinks and shiny shoes, as if I was dressing for a night out at Casino Royale. Finally, I went into a 'sex aids shop' and, thinking I probably had finally lost my mind, bought a little toy.
I realised I wouldn't have time to change when I got back to Gran's, so I nipped into the ladies loo on Plymouth station while I waited for my train. I changed in a roomy disabled cubicle, and when I emerged I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I'd even amazed myself – with my short, slicked hair, and that suit, I looked for all the world like a young gigolo. I've got nicely shaped boobs, but they struggle to fill a B cup and they didn't show at all under the shirt and jacket. At that moment a woman walked into the toilets and gave me the oddest look, clearly wondering what a man was doing in the ladies!
On the train back I stared out of the window nervously, trying to pluck up the courage to follow through. I was vaguely aware of the ticket inspector bustling along, and held out my ticket and student railcard without a glance. A moment later I heard her say, "Fucking hell Luce, is that really you?"
I turned round in surprise and looked into the face of Rosie Jenks, one of my classmates from school. I had never much liked her – she'd screwed her way through half the boys in town – but looking up at her from my seat I was reminded what a glorious big pair of tits she had. She was staring at me with her mouth hanging open, a look of astonishment on her face. "Christ, it is you. You look great. I'll tell you, if you was a bloke I wouldn't half fancy you."
I was slightly embarrassed, and without thinking I blurted, "Yeah, well Rosie, you don't have to be a bloke to fuck girls."
She looked startled for a moment, then gave me the sort of coy smile I remembered from whenever she was chatting up a boy she wanted to shag. Leaning towards me, she said, "Yeah? Really?" I watched stunned as she scribbled something on the back of my ticket and handed it to me. "Look, that's my mobile number, give me a call sometime and you can show me what you mean, all right?" Then, winking at me over her shoulder, she sashayed off down the train corridor. I shook my head in disbelief. I knew Rosie was a slag, but I couldn't imagine she was into women. Then I realised she was probably into anyone she thought could give her a good fuck, and I looked the part.
When I got off the train I ducked into a florists and bought a small bouquet, and a white carnation buttonhole for myself. Then I walked back to Gran's. It took me about ten minutes to finally pluck up the nerve to ring the doorbell. Gran opened the door; she looked great in a black evening dress which shimmered with woven-in silver strands, accompanied by silver high heels that almost levelled our height. She looked at me then did a double-take. "Oh sorry, I was expecting..." She peered more closely at me. "Luce? Is that you?"
Brandishing the bouquet at her, I flashed her my widest smile and husked, "Lucy is not here. I am Luis, your Latin toyboy. Now my little Mayflower, are you ready for romance?"
That was the moment when it could all have gone horribly wrong. Gran stared at me quite perplexed for a moment, then burst into a fit of giggles, whether at my playacting or at my cod Latin accent I wasn't sure. To my relief, however, she joined in the game. "Oh Luis, I've been waiting here for you. Let me just put these in water then you can whisk me away." While Gran dealt with the flowers I quickly hid my secret purchase, then called a taxi. The restaurant was only ten minutes walk away, but I didn't want my date to cripple herself in those heels before we even got there!
I was hoping there wouldn't be anyone I knew in the restaurant and I was lucky. It was actually in a hotel, and most of the other diners were holidaymakers; none of the waiting staff seemed to be locals either. We had a wonderful meal and I plied Gran with drink. After all the cash I'd spent that day I'd be dining on baked beans on toast back in London for a month, but what the hell. Right through dinner I continued to play Luis the randy Latin lover, flirting outrageously with Gran, lightly stroking her arm with my fingertips, and making lots of suggestive double-entendres. She loved it, giggling with pleasure right through the meal and playing the would-be seducee right back at me. We got a few stares, this elderly lady being wooed by an attractive man clearly decades younger than her, but neither of us cared.
As we finished our post-meal brandy the waiters cleared a small space in the middle of the floor and music started playing. I stood and held my hand out to Gran and said, "Darling Mayflower, will you do me the honour of dancing with me?" She gave me a beautiful smile, stood, slightly unsteadily, and accompanied me. Two or three other couples were already dancing, and as Sade's Smooth Operator began to play I held my grandmother close and we began to shuffle around the floor. Her ample bosom was pressed into my chest, her cleavage a sight to behold, her thighs rubbed against mine with each step, and I began to feel as randy as fuck. When I'd started this I hadn't been at all sure how far I'd take my play-acting; that was the moment when I decided I was going to take it as far as Gran would let me.
As the music ended, Gran kissed me lightly on the cheek and whispered, "Thank you Luis, this has been the best evening I've had in years." We took another taxi back to the cottage, and she nestled into the crook of my arm. I could feel my nipples straining against my bra just from thinking about Gran. She smiled up at me, her eyes shining, and without thinking I bent my head and pressed my lips to hers, and tried to ease my tongue between them. She pulled away and gave me a long hard stare, and for a moment I thought I'd blown it; then, to my relief and surprise, she sank back into the kiss, and opened her mouth to me. I explored her mouth gently with my tongue, knowing it was the first real kiss she'd had in 20 years. When we finally came up for air she snuggled even closer to me, and murmured, "Mmm, you're a good kisser Luis."
Buoyed up by the moment, I murmured back, "I am good at lots of other things too." I felt Gran's shoulders shake as she giggled silently into my chest.
When we arrived home Gran nipped to the loo and I slipped off my jacket and bow tie and made her a cup of tea. When she saw it she sank down beside me on the sofa and said, "Ooh, thanks Luis, that looks lovely."
Glad to hear she was still playing my game, I slipped my arm around her shoulders and pulled her to me, husking, "And now, my beautiful May queen, I make love to you." With that I kissed her, again stroking my tongue around hers. We smooched for maybe a minute, but I sensed she was ill at ease and let her pull away.
Not meeting my gaze, she mumbled, "Lucy, I think we've gone a bit too far, we should..."
I was horrified that she was about to say we had to stop. I hadn't meant it to go that far, but now I'd got so close, and I wanted to go the rest of the way. I've never had any hang-ups about the idea of i****t between consenting adults, and if I'd been a bloke I'd have had a hard-on by then which would have burst my fly! In a desperate bid to salvage the situation I took her chin in my hand, turned her face to me, and told her sternly, "I tell you, Lucy, she is not here, only Luis, and he will not be denied his prize." Before she could respond further I fell on her, my tongue r****g her mouth as I pushed her back on the sofa and lay on top of her. Her eyes widened in shock, but I slipped a hand through the wide armhole of her dress, straight into her big bra, and began to roll an engorged nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She gasped into my mouth at that and her eyes widened still further, but after a few seconds they fluttered closed and she moaned softly with pleasure. Pressing home my advantage, with my free hand I pulled her dress up – she actually lifted her legs to help me – and began to press my thigh against the gusset of her knickers, making her moan even louder.
I slowly ended the kiss, and Gran, looking a little dazed, gazed up at me and, to my immense relief, whispered, "So, Luis, what happens now?"
I gave her my wide smile again and, still playing with her nipple, replied, "I tell you, now I make mad, crazy love to you." I would have been quite happy to do so there on the sofa, but my gut did a somersault of joy as she struggled to her feet, took my hand and led me along the corridor to her bedroom. I watched her as she slowly, seductively, removed her clothes, revealing first her big tits with their thimble-sized brown nipples, then her slim thighs, with a wispy bush of grey-black hair nestling between them. Then my grandmother lay on her bed and stretched her arms above her naked body, offering herself to me. bl**dy hell, I nearly came there and then!
I stammered, "Er, Luis will return in a moment, my darling." Then I backed out of the room, tore off my clothes and retrieved my special toy: a thick, realistically-shaped eight-inch dildo, pendulous balls hanging down, with a second head which I eased into my damp pussy as I strapped the monster around my midriff.
The last time I'd walked into a bedroom wearing something like that the girl I was with had nearly pissed herself laughing. Gran didn't: here eye bulged, her jaw dropped, and she whispered, "Jesus Christ Luc, er, Luis."
I walked slowly towards her, swaying my hips and running my hand up and down the shaft suggestively. Raising my eyebrows at her, I murmured, "So what do you think, my little May flower – you want to dance on the end of Luis's big cock?"
Any worries my gran had had about the morality of sexual intercourse with her own granddaughter had long since been forgotten. Licking her lips in anticipation, her eyes locked between my legs, she muttered, "Oh Christ, yes."
I joined her on the bed and pulled her into my arms, revelling I the feel of her big, soft boobs squashing against mine. We kissed for a few minutes as I squeezed a tit and flicked the nipple, then I kissed my way down her throat and lovingly sucked a nipple into my mouth. She clearly enjoyed it, groaning and pushing her chest at me, but it was obvious what she wanted; her fingers raced up and down the dildo as if it was a real live prick. I wasn't objecting, the effect of that was to wiggle the second head inside me around, starting a fire in my gut. I thought I'd better prepare her pussy for its first fuck in nearly 20 years, but I needn't have worried – when I slipped my hand down there it felt like an undersea volcano. I twirled my fingers around in her for a few minutes, making her sob with pleasure, then moved the cock into position between her legs.
The moment she felt the head of the shaft pressing against her cunny lips she rammed her hips down onto it, forcing it inside her, and causing her to gasp with a mixture of pleasure and pain. I took it easy at first, sliding it into her slowly and gently. She wriggled her hips and began to relax into it, and I gradually increased the speed and strength of my strokes. Gran raised her knees, her feet flat on the bed, and began to pant and race her tongue around her lips. I moved onto my knees, my thighs pressed beneath her bum, to give me maximum access, and leaned forward to knead her gorgeous tits as I fucked her. At the same time the smaller dick inside me was rubbing gloriously against my clit, giving me the most wonderful warm feelings right through my body.
Gran's panting became louder and louder, until it started to turn into whimpers, then little yelps. Finally, she pushed her hips hard at me and literally screamed as her legs shot out straight either side of me and she sat upright and gripped my shoulders, sobbing as she came for the first time in years. She was understandably quite emotional afterwards, and I held her to me and kissed her tears away, crying myself, until she calmed down. Then I whispered, "So, you like being fucked by Luis?"
Only a few days earlier, I had been shocked to hear my granny say 'shithole'. Now I chuckled with delight as she replied, "Oh God yes, I fucking love it." We cuddled some more, and I got to chew on those glorious tits again, before I arranged her on all fours and fucked her from behind, gripping her hips and slamming the cock into her. She had another wailing climax but I kept going until I came too, a strength-sapping, shuddering release that took me by surprise with its f***e. Then we fell asl**p, locked tight in each other's arms.
I was awoken by a shaft of sunlight through the curtains. It took me a moment to realise that the previous night hadn't just been an amazing erotic dream, then I looked up to see Gran looming naked over me. She kissed me lightly on the lips and whispered, with incredible tenderness, "Hello lover."
I gasped as she trailed her fingertips lightly across my belly. Seeing a twinkle in her eye, I grinned and murmured, "Hey, Mayfly, you want Luis to give you another nice fuck?"
I started to reach for the dildo, on the floor by the bed, but she stopped me. She kissed me again, stroked a strand of hair from my forehead, and said softly, "I don't want to be fucked by Luis this morning. I want to make love with Lucy."
I think it took us both by surprise when I burst into tears! I pulled her to me and sobbed, "Oh Gran, I love you so much."
She licked the tears off my cheeks and smiled. "I love you too my sweet darling."
I rolled her on her back and kissed her long and hard. She kissed me back with equal passion, and our tongues duelled for supremacy. Then she chuckled deep in her throat as I shifted my lips down to her boob and twirled my fingers in her sparse pubic hair. I was determined to show my grandmother what lesbian love was all about. I sucked on each of her breasts in turn, enjoying the texture of those oh-so chewable nipples, then trailed my tongue down towards her belly button. She was already panting from my fingers playing in and out of her cunt, but she gasped when she realised where I was going. "Oh god, oh god, no-one's ever...not even my Roger."
Hearing that I knew I had to make it special for her. Her pussy lips looked a little pink and swollen from the hammering 'Luis' had given them. I licked and nibbled at her inner thighs until her hips were lifting off the bed with anticipation; then she screamed as I thrust my tongue inside her pussy. I lapped at Gran's juices, stroking her lips with one hand while with the fingers of the other I tweaked her clit. That drove her wild and she started jumping about on the bed so much I had to release her cunny lips to hold her down. I think she had the first multiple orgasm of her life, and I savoured the taste of the richer juices which flooded into her pussy. She sank back into the bed, exhausted, and panted, "Fucking hell, I've never felt like this before. It's like I'm in orbit!"
She slept for a while after that, and I brought her toast and orange juice in bed. We got up then and showered and dressed, but we were both like teenagers in our first love affair. We could barely keep our hands off each other all day, and we couldn't wait to go to bed again early in the evening. After a long, loving snog, both caressing each other's bodies, Gran took the initiative, dropping her mouth onto one of my small boobs and nibbling my tiny nipple. I reached down and squeezed her tits rhythmically, then I felt a surge of excitement as she stroked a finger along my shaved pussy. She did it a few more times, actually teasing me, before at last she pushed first one, then another finger deep inside me, and began to fuck me with them. I was so turned on by the whole situation that I came in seconds, but my new lover carried on finger-fucking me until I'd cum several more times.
I stayed another three days, and we spent more time in bed than out of it. When I left I think Gran had mixed feelings: she was going to miss me in her bed, but she really needed a few days of rest and relaxation to recover! Our last night together was the most special. I was happily slurping away at her pussy, at the same time reaming a finger up her anal canal, which I'd discovered really turned her on, when I felt her pulling at my waist. Understanding what she meant, but not quite believing it, I scooted round until my thighs were either side of her head, my pussy suspended inches from her face. I shivered in anticipation as I felt her hot breath on me, then a moment later the tip of her tongue wormed its way between my pussy lips. I came instantly, and buried my entire face inside her, pleasuring her with tongue, teeth, nose, fingers, anything I could use to increase her arousal and encourage her to do the same for me. Gran was obviously a novice at oral sex, but she was a quick learner and before the night was out, with my tuition, she was giving me the most fantastic licking I'd had in a long time.
Now of course, I'm back in London, in my final year at uni. I stay with Gran every holiday – I never see my parents anymore. Obviously I still sl**p with other girls, but I enjoy sex with my granny the most. I don't think I could ever live in that godforsaken little town again, but I won't have to. Gran's talking about selling up and moving back to London, which will mean we can see each other and sl**p together as often as we like.
There's one final postscript to this story. I did a bit of research and found that, surprisingly, Miss Simpkins from the secretarial college is still alive. She's in her 80s now, and in a private nursing home. I've spoken to her on the phone and she's still got all her marbles, and sounds as if she's a dirty-minded old cow with it. I don't know if at her age she'd still enjoy a nice young tongue up her pussy, but I'm going to offer it. After all, it's thanks to her that I'm having so much fun with my dear old granny these days!