It had been a normal morning—waking up, showering, grabbing a quick breakfast before driving over to Gran’s. Her house always smelled faintly of lavender and biscuits, a comfort I’d known since I was a kid. She greeted me at the door with her usual warmth, pulling me into a hug that still managed to feel strong despite her age.
“Come in, my lovely,” she said, patting my cheek. “Just put the kettle on. Fancy a cuppa?”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I replied, following her into the cosy kitchen.
While Gran was making us both a cup of tea, I was looking through some of her photos. I saw a little box, and I opened it, and it was a nude photo. Oh wow, she has small boobs but a nice pussy, she must have been like 30 in the photo.
I took the photo and went upstairs to the bathroom, didn’t bother locking it.
I can’t believe how out of my Gran used to be. I stared at her photo and jerked my cock.
The bathroom door opened, “You in here, my lovely, oh. Oh, honey, you like my photo that much. Nice cock, lovely. I may be old, but I am not dead. Instead of playing with yourself, well lets just say I still have it in me.” She took off her blouse, then her bra, followed by unzipping her skirt.
She was only in her white knickers. She then turned her back on me and leaned forward, bent over the sink. She looked over her shoulder, “Come on and put the thing of yours to good use.” Wait, my Gran wanted it doggystyle.
I stood behind her as I slid her knickers down to her thighs. I spat on my hand and lubed my cock head up. I held her hip as I fed her my young cock.
I slid my cock into her gently at first, feeling how tight she still was despite her age. She let out a soft moan, fingers gripping the edge of the sink.
“That’s it, love,” she whispered, pushing her hips back against me.
I gripped her hips harder, thrusting deeper. Her body felt warm, alive, and nothing like I’d imagined. Her skin was soft, wrinkled in places, but she moved like she still knew exactly what she wanted.
“Fuck me proper, don’t hold back,” she urged, looking back at me with a smirk. “Unless you’re scared an old bird like me can’t take it.”
I wasn’t holding back now. My thrusts roughened, her arse jiggling with each snap of my hips. The sink rattled under her grip, the sound mixing with her breathy moans.
“Christ, Gran,” I panted, “you’re still so tight—”
She laughed, low and dirty. “Told you I’ve still got it. Now don’t stop its been years since I’ve had sex. Ah, that feels good… ahhh.”
I could feel myself getting close, the heat coiling low in my stomach. Gran reached a hand back, gripping my thigh as she rocked against me.
“Don’t you dare pull out,” she murmured. “Give it to me proper—ah, just like that!”
Her breath hitched as I drove into her harder, the wet slap of skin filling the room. The mirror fogged up from our heat, but I could still see the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips parted every time I bottomed out inside her.
“Gran, I’m gonna—”
She whimpered, “No, please, not yet… ahh please, use… will power.”
“I’ll try,” I grunted, the effort making my voice tight. I slowed my pace, withdrawing almost completely before sinking back into her warmth with a deep, controlled thrust. A shiver ran through her.
She let out a long, satisfied sigh. “Oh, that’s the way. Make it last, my lovely. Enjoy… ahhh, enjoy as you youngsters call it, my pussy. If only your mum knew…. how… naughty her boy was.”
I focused on that thought, on the sheer wrongness and the dizzying heat of it, pushing me harder, faster. She met every thrust, her body a perfect, willing counter-rhythm to mine.
“Your mum… always said… you were a good boy,” she panted, the words broken by my movements. “So… well-mannered.”
The absurdity of it crashed over me, and I buried my face in her neck, her long grey hair tickling my face. I could smell her perfume, the same one she’d worn forever, mixed with the scent of our sweat. My control was slipping, a tidal wave building at the base of my spine.
“Gran… I can’t…”
“Then don’t,” she commanded, her voice raw and urgent. “Give it to me. Now!”
That was all it took. With a choked groan, I plunged deep and held there, my body seizing as I spilt into her. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, my knees trembling, my grip on her hips the only thing holding me up.
She shuddered against me, a sharp, quiet cry escaping her lips as she pressed back, milking every last drop from me. For a long moment, the only sound was our ragged breathing and the slow drip of the tap.
I stayed inside her, leaning against her back, spent. She reached a hand back and gently patted my thigh.
“There now,” she said, her voice soft again, almost like it was when she was offering me a biscuit. “That was lovely.”
Slowly, I pulled out. She straightened up with a slight wince and turned to face me, not bothering to pull her knickers up. Her small breasts swayed with the movement, her skin flushed. She looked at my softening cock, then up at my face with a warm, knowing smile.
“See? Not dead yet.” She reached for a flannel, ran it under the warm water, and gently cleaned me off. The tenderness of the act was almost more shocking than what we’d just done.
She then cleaned herself before pulling up her knickers. “Now,” she said, pulling her blouse back on but leaving it unbuttoned. “I believe I was making us a cup of tea. It’s probably stewed. We’ll need a fresh pot.”
She opened the bathroom door, the steam from our encounter billowing out into the cool hallway. She paused and looked back at me, her smirk returning.
“And put that nice cock away, my lovely. I have friends who might be popping by later.”
She padded downstairs, leaving me standing there, bewildered and euphoric, listening to the familiar, comforting sound of her putting the kettle on.
I stood there for another moment, the cool air of the hallway a stark contrast to the humid, intimate warmth of the bathroom. I could hear Gran moving about in the kitchen downstairs, the gentle clink of china, the running of the tap to freshen the kettle, the soft hum of a tune I recognized from my childhood.
It was the most surreal and electrifying moment of my life.
I tucked myself away, my hands trembling slightly as I fixed my clothes. My reflection in the now-clearing mirror was flushed, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and exhilaration. The scent of her perfume, mixed with the musky scent of sex, still clung to the air.
I made my way downstairs, each step feeling both heavy and weightless. Gran was at the counter, spooning fresh tea leaves into a pot. She had buttoned her blouse but hadn’t bothered with her bra or skirt; she stood there in her blouse and white knickers, utterly at ease, as if this were the most normal afternoon tea preparation.
She glanced over as I entered, her warm smile exactly as it always was. “There you are. Feeling peckish? I’ve got some digestives.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure, Gran,” I managed, my voice a little hoarse.
She poured the hot water into the pot, the fragrant steam rising between us. She carried the tray to the small kitchen table and sat down, gesturing for me to join her. She took a slow sip of her tea, her eyes twinkling over the rim of the cup.
We sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall and the occasional slurp of tea. The world outside the kitchen window carried on, completely unaware of the earthquake that had just occurred within these walls.
Finally, she set her cup down with a definitive clink. She leaned forward slightly, her expression turning from pleasantly casual to one of gentle conspiracy.
“That was rather nice, my lovely,” she said, her voice a low, warm murmur. “Brought a bit of life back into these old bones.”
I just nodded, not trusting myself to form a coherent sentence.
She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Don’t look so shell-shocked. Life is for living, at every age.” She squeezed my hand before pulling back. “Now, listen. Next weekend, your mother thinks you’re coming over to help me sort through that old trunk in the attic.”
She paused, letting the implication hang in the air between us. A slow, wicked grin spread across her face.
“So don’t be late. I’ll make sure we have the house to ourselves.” She winked. “We wouldn’t want to be interrupted during round two, now would we?”