LustreMunky
Loves Spam
- Joined
- Mar 15, 2014
- Posts
- 145
Just don't give them advice on female hygiene...
- Status
Just don't give them advice on female hygiene...
geronimo_appleby
always on the move
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2004
- Posts
- 90,768
a fetish is a fetish. it can be incest, it can be pee, it can be having a thing for rubber - there may be those who have a fetish for all three in that list combined. you want to understand a fetish? just look to the psychology behind the fetish, to what triggers the need.
geronimo_appleby
always on the move
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2004
- Posts
- 90,768
oh and in continuation to:
http://forum.literotica.com/showpost.php?p=54888107&postcount=653
there's this:
My body’s response to seeing my grandmother half-naked shocked me. She might be fifty-eight years old but she still had it all going on. Okay, the woman wasn’t in the first flush of youth, she might be carrying a little more flesh around the breasts, waist, hips and buttocks than thirty years before, but she curved and swelled in all the right places. There might be crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, with maybe a few more lines etched here and there, but again, her prettiness had evolved into something deeper, a rich maturity, a lady of experience whose expression – now I thought about it – hinted at hidden depths and sensual delights.
It was the work of less than a second, synapses exploding with data connections, bare details and subtle nuance forming like a gaseous cloud to coalesce into impressions and thought inside my head. It felt to me that I’d taken at least thirty seconds to process everything – her face, her body, the sheen of lotion on her brown shoulders – when in reality it all took less than a single tick of the clock.
In short I thought my grandmother looked gorgeous lying there basking in the sun. I fancied her in fact, with my cock more than a little thickened as I cast the occasional surreptitious glance at her.
I recognised the thoughts in my head were off kilter and that I really shouldn’t ogle my own mother’s mother, but the beer buzz, the fugue of recent slumber and the fact I was a horny nineteen-year-old conspired against my weakened morals.
I was taking longer looks, allowing my eyes to roam over my grandmother’s sizeable breasts, firm globes that hardly seemed affected by her age. My amoral penis flew at half-mast, pre-cum seeping from the head of my cock while desire surged through my veins.
Then my mother arrived.
She carried a rolled-up towel under one arm, sunglasses in place just like her mother’s. I watched my mother approach, recognising for the first time just how alike she and my grandmother were.
My mother stepped up onto the patio, her forward motion ceasing when she spotted the other woman’s bared breasts.
“Bloody hell, mum,” she blurted, throwing a glance at me. “Topless in front of your grandson?” A pause, disapproval coming off her in near palpable waves. “ Really?”
I surveyed my grandmother’s swaying breasts when she shifted up onto her elbows, her attention focussed on her daughter. Her head inclined to indicate me. “I asked. He said he didn’t mind.”
“Still,” my mother offered, shaking her head. She checked the attitude of the sun up above, scraping another sun-lounger across the tiles to get the best angle before she lay her towel over the plastic slats. “I don’t think its very decent. Especially at your age…”
My grandmother scoffed, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth.
“Well, you’re pushing forty, dear,” came her retort. “And there are some that might say that bikini is a little too young for you.”
My mother opened her mouth to reply but gran cut her off.
“But since we’re not overlooked here,” she lifted a hand, palm up, her arm sweeping in a curve to indicate the privacy we enjoyed, “I don’t suppose it matters. Besides, I <i>did</i> consult Andrew beforehand. I didn’t just whip my top off. He doesn’t mind an old girl like me enjoying some sunshine in my own home, next to my own swimming pool. We’re family after all, Julia, not some strangers all crammed together on a public beach.”
My mother’s stiffened, and I thought she was about to argue the toss, perhaps come back with some sniping retort, but she suddenly softened. Air came down my mother’s nose in a sigh of capitulation before she said, “Well, all right, if you insist. I suppose it’s your home…” She threw me another look and, unable to resist a little dig, added, “And if he isn’t bothered by the sight of his own grandmother cavorting around half-naked, why should I be concerned?”
With apparent indifference my mother lay face down on the blanket covering the bed. There was silence for a minute or more until she then waved a hand behind her. “Undo me will you, mum?” my mother said. “And could you smear some of your suncream on my back? I don’t want to burn.”
I glanced at my grandmother as she jack-knifed upright, her legs swinging off her chair. I took in the saucer-sized areola and long, thick teats as her weighty tits swung and swayed, my eyes soaking up the detail of her body. My cock pressed against my swimming shorts, tenting the material so much I was forced to roll onto my front to hide my sudden loss of composure.
My grandmother perched on the edge of mum’s sunbed, her fingers deftly unfastening the strap of her daughter’s bikini, with me watching as she massaged suncream into the other woman’s flesh.
When she’d finished my grandmother looked at the gloopy residue on her hands, her expression bemused until she solved the problem of excess lotion by massaging the stuff over her boobs.
I couldn’t be sure because of those dark lenses she wore, but it seemed to me that my grandmother was watching me as she went through the prolonged process, the procedure taking an inordinately long time.
By the time my grandmother had finished my cock was rigid. I had decidedly inappropriate carnal thoughts about the woman’s body in my mind, my emotions whirling, the sexual arousal at odds with morality. I had that desperate urge to masturbate. The need was strong but I couldn’t move, trapped there by my own tumescence, a wet stain inking the front of my shorts as further evidence of my state of mind.
And then my grandmother asked if I’d fetch her a gin and tonic.
http://forum.literotica.com/showpost.php?p=54888107&postcount=653
there's this:
My body’s response to seeing my grandmother half-naked shocked me. She might be fifty-eight years old but she still had it all going on. Okay, the woman wasn’t in the first flush of youth, she might be carrying a little more flesh around the breasts, waist, hips and buttocks than thirty years before, but she curved and swelled in all the right places. There might be crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, with maybe a few more lines etched here and there, but again, her prettiness had evolved into something deeper, a rich maturity, a lady of experience whose expression – now I thought about it – hinted at hidden depths and sensual delights.
It was the work of less than a second, synapses exploding with data connections, bare details and subtle nuance forming like a gaseous cloud to coalesce into impressions and thought inside my head. It felt to me that I’d taken at least thirty seconds to process everything – her face, her body, the sheen of lotion on her brown shoulders – when in reality it all took less than a single tick of the clock.
In short I thought my grandmother looked gorgeous lying there basking in the sun. I fancied her in fact, with my cock more than a little thickened as I cast the occasional surreptitious glance at her.
I recognised the thoughts in my head were off kilter and that I really shouldn’t ogle my own mother’s mother, but the beer buzz, the fugue of recent slumber and the fact I was a horny nineteen-year-old conspired against my weakened morals.
I was taking longer looks, allowing my eyes to roam over my grandmother’s sizeable breasts, firm globes that hardly seemed affected by her age. My amoral penis flew at half-mast, pre-cum seeping from the head of my cock while desire surged through my veins.
Then my mother arrived.
She carried a rolled-up towel under one arm, sunglasses in place just like her mother’s. I watched my mother approach, recognising for the first time just how alike she and my grandmother were.
My mother stepped up onto the patio, her forward motion ceasing when she spotted the other woman’s bared breasts.
“Bloody hell, mum,” she blurted, throwing a glance at me. “Topless in front of your grandson?” A pause, disapproval coming off her in near palpable waves. “ Really?”
I surveyed my grandmother’s swaying breasts when she shifted up onto her elbows, her attention focussed on her daughter. Her head inclined to indicate me. “I asked. He said he didn’t mind.”
“Still,” my mother offered, shaking her head. She checked the attitude of the sun up above, scraping another sun-lounger across the tiles to get the best angle before she lay her towel over the plastic slats. “I don’t think its very decent. Especially at your age…”
My grandmother scoffed, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth.
“Well, you’re pushing forty, dear,” came her retort. “And there are some that might say that bikini is a little too young for you.”
My mother opened her mouth to reply but gran cut her off.
“But since we’re not overlooked here,” she lifted a hand, palm up, her arm sweeping in a curve to indicate the privacy we enjoyed, “I don’t suppose it matters. Besides, I <i>did</i> consult Andrew beforehand. I didn’t just whip my top off. He doesn’t mind an old girl like me enjoying some sunshine in my own home, next to my own swimming pool. We’re family after all, Julia, not some strangers all crammed together on a public beach.”
My mother’s stiffened, and I thought she was about to argue the toss, perhaps come back with some sniping retort, but she suddenly softened. Air came down my mother’s nose in a sigh of capitulation before she said, “Well, all right, if you insist. I suppose it’s your home…” She threw me another look and, unable to resist a little dig, added, “And if he isn’t bothered by the sight of his own grandmother cavorting around half-naked, why should I be concerned?”
With apparent indifference my mother lay face down on the blanket covering the bed. There was silence for a minute or more until she then waved a hand behind her. “Undo me will you, mum?” my mother said. “And could you smear some of your suncream on my back? I don’t want to burn.”
I glanced at my grandmother as she jack-knifed upright, her legs swinging off her chair. I took in the saucer-sized areola and long, thick teats as her weighty tits swung and swayed, my eyes soaking up the detail of her body. My cock pressed against my swimming shorts, tenting the material so much I was forced to roll onto my front to hide my sudden loss of composure.
My grandmother perched on the edge of mum’s sunbed, her fingers deftly unfastening the strap of her daughter’s bikini, with me watching as she massaged suncream into the other woman’s flesh.
When she’d finished my grandmother looked at the gloopy residue on her hands, her expression bemused until she solved the problem of excess lotion by massaging the stuff over her boobs.
I couldn’t be sure because of those dark lenses she wore, but it seemed to me that my grandmother was watching me as she went through the prolonged process, the procedure taking an inordinately long time.
By the time my grandmother had finished my cock was rigid. I had decidedly inappropriate carnal thoughts about the woman’s body in my mind, my emotions whirling, the sexual arousal at odds with morality. I had that desperate urge to masturbate. The need was strong but I couldn’t move, trapped there by my own tumescence, a wet stain inking the front of my shorts as further evidence of my state of mind.
And then my grandmother asked if I’d fetch her a gin and tonic.
geronimo_appleby
always on the move
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2004
- Posts
- 90,768
and:
I had trouble sleeping. The bout of insomnia was nothing to do with the heat, in fact the evenings were still quite cool at that time of year, and the room was fitted with air in readiness for when the night time temperatures did rise, it was the constant whirl of my thoughts keeping me awake.
Lying there staring into darkness palled quickly. The villa windows were fitted with roller blinds, the mechanism completely effective in blocking any ambient light whatsoever, and I decided to throw back the thin sheet covering me and go to the kitchen for a drink of water.
Outside my room there was enough light coming in through the open balcony doors to see by. Since my bedroom was closest to the doors it was furthest from the kitchen, the route taking me past my mother’s room first, her door on my right as I moved quietly along the long corridor. I walked on, going another fifteen paces before the dogleg hooked left ninety degrees. By then I was in a large vestibule, the villa’s front door to my right, the corridor continuing again directly in front of me. I paused, a noise making me blink. I glanced at the kitchen door, slightly ahead and to the left, the door facing me at the far end of the hallway being the entrance to my grandmother’s bedroom.
There was another door coming off that passage, one directly opposite the kitchen. That was the living room, not often used since we didn’t watch much television – although we had the full English package courtesy of a satellite dish the size of a refugee from Jodrell Bank. It was a place gran used during the winter months, a portable gas fire warming her.
The sound came again.
I took a step, my mind racing with possibilities.
Had someone come in through the open patio doors? I glanced back at the front door, reversing course to check its security.
A turn of the handle showed me it was locked.
I blinked. It was possible for someone to get into the villa from the back, but it would be a difficult task getting over the wall since the villa had been built on a severe slope, the main entrance and driveway at ground level with a hundred feet of sheer escarpment at the rear. Anyone attempting to gain clandestine access would need to climb the cliff face and then defeat the extra ten feet of wall to get in – a heavy job, especially if whoever it was just fancied a snack in the kitchen.
Turning again I walked towards the kitchen door, ears alert for any sound.
I crept closer, my mind telling me I was being ridiculous, the primal part of me – the lizard brain – screaming danger.
Reaching the door I paused, heart thudding in my chest. It might have been a chill night but I had started to sweat, my armpits decidedly clammy. I also wished I was wearing more than a pair of running shorts, my near nakedness and barefoot status making me feel exposed and very vulnerable.
The noise came at me again, indistinct with no real clue of its origin.
Was it in the kitchen? Was someone in there? Were they waiting for me, somehow sensing my presence, ambuscade set?
Inside my head I muttered to myself: <i>Stop fucking about. There’s nobody there. It’ll be the dishwasher or something. Go on. Be a man. Face the fear.</i>
I took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.
*
Nothing.
Nobody lay in wait ready to donk me on the head.
I looked around, a heavy moon throwing pale light in through the huge window overlooking Calpe. The Med shimmered, ghostly, its calm surface like beaten silver where the moon reflected up off it, inky black elsewhere. I could see the outline of the rock, lights dotting the promenade at Playa Arenal as it arced in a crescent towards the marina.
The kitchen counter ran along the wall to my right, the dishwasher – silent – set halfway between the door and the big window, an integral unit built in. The huge American style fridge stood to the left of me, its bulk like a sentry on duty, while the numbers on the microwave oven glowed a luminescent green, telling me the time was 1:23 a.m.
I calmed, my breathing recommencing, heart rate steadying. I went to the overhead cupboard to my left, reaching in for a pint glass. It was my intention to pour a glass full of cold water from the mechanism in the fridge door and head back to bed. Maybe I would be able to put the thoughts of my grandmother’s dishabille out of my mind? Perhaps I wouldn’t succumb again to the masturbatory frenzy that I’d experienced earlier that evening.
I hoped the next day – or that day already since it was well past midnight – would see me able to resist the dark urges that uncurled inside me.
“No more perving at gran’s tits,” I muttered to myself. “No more wanking and thinking about her.”
But even as I said the words my cock twitched at the reminder. I knew at that moment, despite mentally insisting otherwise, that by the time the sun came up I would have tugged at my root vigorously, my head filled with lewd imaginings of my grandmother’s heavy tits.
I sighed and shook my head to clear those thoughts away. The glass was up against the lever set in the rectangular cut-out in the fridge door when I heard the noise again.
Water forgotten I whipped around, searching for the source of that sound.
Then it came again, a low groan. The sound of someone in pain … Or the kind of noise someone would make if they were enjoying great pleasure.
I stuck my head out into the hallway in time to catch the noise again.
It was most definitely coming from my grandmother’s bedroom.
*
Her door was ever so slightly ajar, the crack between the door and jamb showing no light at all. She must have closed the window shutter too.
I stood there, breath bated, not daring to breathe in case my grandmother heard.
“Oh,” I heard from within, the utterance coming on a sigh. “Yes,” my grandmother gurgled, a rustle of what I assumed to be her moving on the bed-sheets reaching me. There were several gasps and grunts, which were followed by another moan of pleasure. “Come on,” the woman urged, and for a second I thought there was someone in there with her, that she was exhorting a lover to greater endeavour.
Then I realised she was only talking to herself, that she was using her fingers or perhaps some sex toy against her body.
The image popped into my mind’s eye: my grandmother sprawled wide-legged on top of her bed, some enormous rubber dildo in her fist as she fucked it into her opening.
My bottom lip was between my teeth as I supressed a moan of frustration. My cock was rigid. Despite having wanked it to a spurting climax three times since the episode by the pool, my hard-on was ready for action.
I pawed at myself, one hand sliding under the waistband of my shorts, fingers squeezing my dick.
“God, yes…” I heard my grandmother gasp. “Yes-oh-yes-oh-yes-oh-yes. Oh, God, that’s so good.”
It sounded like my grandmother was working her way to a climax, the grunts and mumblings getting louder, her mewls and whines more urgent in their intensity.
I could hear the bed really moving, the image of my grandmother working her pussy with that rubber cock growing ever more incredible. In my head I pictured her shoving the out-sized dildo into her body. The thing was enormous, far bigger than reality, the size of it increasing my own lewd desires in direct proportion. The hornier I grew the bigger the thing became, my grandmother’s features twisted into a grimace of yearning I’d never seen in real-life, her free hand mauling at her tits as she writhed and squirmed, her flesh stretched to splitting point around the girth of that monster.
Then my grandmother grunted a few times, desperation evident in the way she snarled out her frustration. Then, with a cry of delight bursting out of her it was obvious to me that she was there, that my grandmother had tipped into the abyss.
By then, as the woman inside the darkened room let it all go, I was wanking freely. My shorts were down around my thighs, my cock was in my fist and I was cranking away. It was mindless; I had no thought for the noise I might make if the pleasure became too intense to take; I didn’t even think about my ejaculate and the evidence I’d leave behind if I came.
It never occurred to me that my mother might wake up and catch me with my dick in my fist.
But, as it happened, my mother didn’t appear; I didn’t spray the door and walls and floor tiles with semen; I didn’t get close to a noisy climax.
I was tugging away, re-experiencing the sounds of my grandmother’s orgasm when the light flicked on inside her room.
That sudden burst stilled me, an obscene statue with my cock in my fist. My chest suddenly felt too small for the organs it contained. My heart seemed to be in my throat while my lungs ceased their bellows action, fear paralysing me.
Then I heard the sproing of the mattress dipping and recognised the very real danger of my grandmother opening the door wide to catch me there. I was suddenly cured of my paralysis, a shockwave of fear like a physical blow rolling over me while, with one hand clutching the waist of my shorts, I scuttled away and ducked into the kitchen.
I yanked up my shorts and composed myself as best as I could manage given the scare I’d just had. My erection was clearly outlined by my shorts. There would be no way I could hide my arousal if my grandmother decided to fetch a glass of water and flicked on the light to illuminate her way.
Twenty seconds passed. I was willing my cock to subside. Another ten seconds and I heard a toilet flush – My grandmother wiping up after her private moment?
I stayed where I was, next to the fridge with the glass in my hand, the excuse ready if my grandmother appeared. My erection I could do nothing about. A bit like that afternoon when gran had asked me to fetch her a fresh gin and tonic where I’d rolled off the sunbed, keeping my back to my grandmother as I’d hurried away, half-bent with a hand cupped over my cock, telling the woman I’d bring the drink upon my return.
“Just need to pee!” I’d called over my shoulder, the toilet emergency the smoke and mirrors ploy that masked the real reason for my odd gait.
If I was seen in the kitchen at that moment I’d just have to brazen it out. If she saw, she saw, that was the bottom line.
Fifteen more seconds passed. I watched the numbers on the microwave clock flick to 1:31 – <i>Eight minutes? Is that all the time that had elapsed?</i>
I dared to take a look, my head popping from cover as I checked to see if the light in my grandmother’s room had gone out.
A second after I’d stuck half my face beyond the jamb, the door to her room opened.
Light spilled into the hallway, my grandmother’s shadow flickering across the tiles.
Once again I dashed back to the fridge, glass in hand, waiting.
She passed the kitchen door without a glance. My grandmother didn’t notice me there as she went by, her body covered by a towel.
“Jesus,” I muttered, limbs trembling. “Fucking hell.”
I poured the water and, thankful that my hard-on had subsided enough to no longer be a real cause for concern, took a few deep breaths to calm my jangling nerves. There was no cause for concern. If I met my grandmother on her way back to her room I had the perfect cover story: I needed a drink of water – Look, there’s the glass right there.
It didn’t occur to me to wonder where gran was going at that time of night, I was just relieved to have gotten away with it.
I went out into the corridor and walked along to the dogleg, passing the front door and heading to my room. It wasn’t until I clocked the patio doors that the suspicion filled me.
“No way,” I murmured. “It’s too cold, surely…”
But when I crept to the patio and looked out I saw my grandmother’s head bobbing about in the pool, a luminous buoy bathed in moonlight.
I had trouble sleeping. The bout of insomnia was nothing to do with the heat, in fact the evenings were still quite cool at that time of year, and the room was fitted with air in readiness for when the night time temperatures did rise, it was the constant whirl of my thoughts keeping me awake.
Lying there staring into darkness palled quickly. The villa windows were fitted with roller blinds, the mechanism completely effective in blocking any ambient light whatsoever, and I decided to throw back the thin sheet covering me and go to the kitchen for a drink of water.
Outside my room there was enough light coming in through the open balcony doors to see by. Since my bedroom was closest to the doors it was furthest from the kitchen, the route taking me past my mother’s room first, her door on my right as I moved quietly along the long corridor. I walked on, going another fifteen paces before the dogleg hooked left ninety degrees. By then I was in a large vestibule, the villa’s front door to my right, the corridor continuing again directly in front of me. I paused, a noise making me blink. I glanced at the kitchen door, slightly ahead and to the left, the door facing me at the far end of the hallway being the entrance to my grandmother’s bedroom.
There was another door coming off that passage, one directly opposite the kitchen. That was the living room, not often used since we didn’t watch much television – although we had the full English package courtesy of a satellite dish the size of a refugee from Jodrell Bank. It was a place gran used during the winter months, a portable gas fire warming her.
The sound came again.
I took a step, my mind racing with possibilities.
Had someone come in through the open patio doors? I glanced back at the front door, reversing course to check its security.
A turn of the handle showed me it was locked.
I blinked. It was possible for someone to get into the villa from the back, but it would be a difficult task getting over the wall since the villa had been built on a severe slope, the main entrance and driveway at ground level with a hundred feet of sheer escarpment at the rear. Anyone attempting to gain clandestine access would need to climb the cliff face and then defeat the extra ten feet of wall to get in – a heavy job, especially if whoever it was just fancied a snack in the kitchen.
Turning again I walked towards the kitchen door, ears alert for any sound.
I crept closer, my mind telling me I was being ridiculous, the primal part of me – the lizard brain – screaming danger.
Reaching the door I paused, heart thudding in my chest. It might have been a chill night but I had started to sweat, my armpits decidedly clammy. I also wished I was wearing more than a pair of running shorts, my near nakedness and barefoot status making me feel exposed and very vulnerable.
The noise came at me again, indistinct with no real clue of its origin.
Was it in the kitchen? Was someone in there? Were they waiting for me, somehow sensing my presence, ambuscade set?
Inside my head I muttered to myself: <i>Stop fucking about. There’s nobody there. It’ll be the dishwasher or something. Go on. Be a man. Face the fear.</i>
I took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.
*
Nothing.
Nobody lay in wait ready to donk me on the head.
I looked around, a heavy moon throwing pale light in through the huge window overlooking Calpe. The Med shimmered, ghostly, its calm surface like beaten silver where the moon reflected up off it, inky black elsewhere. I could see the outline of the rock, lights dotting the promenade at Playa Arenal as it arced in a crescent towards the marina.
The kitchen counter ran along the wall to my right, the dishwasher – silent – set halfway between the door and the big window, an integral unit built in. The huge American style fridge stood to the left of me, its bulk like a sentry on duty, while the numbers on the microwave oven glowed a luminescent green, telling me the time was 1:23 a.m.
I calmed, my breathing recommencing, heart rate steadying. I went to the overhead cupboard to my left, reaching in for a pint glass. It was my intention to pour a glass full of cold water from the mechanism in the fridge door and head back to bed. Maybe I would be able to put the thoughts of my grandmother’s dishabille out of my mind? Perhaps I wouldn’t succumb again to the masturbatory frenzy that I’d experienced earlier that evening.
I hoped the next day – or that day already since it was well past midnight – would see me able to resist the dark urges that uncurled inside me.
“No more perving at gran’s tits,” I muttered to myself. “No more wanking and thinking about her.”
But even as I said the words my cock twitched at the reminder. I knew at that moment, despite mentally insisting otherwise, that by the time the sun came up I would have tugged at my root vigorously, my head filled with lewd imaginings of my grandmother’s heavy tits.
I sighed and shook my head to clear those thoughts away. The glass was up against the lever set in the rectangular cut-out in the fridge door when I heard the noise again.
Water forgotten I whipped around, searching for the source of that sound.
Then it came again, a low groan. The sound of someone in pain … Or the kind of noise someone would make if they were enjoying great pleasure.
I stuck my head out into the hallway in time to catch the noise again.
It was most definitely coming from my grandmother’s bedroom.
*
Her door was ever so slightly ajar, the crack between the door and jamb showing no light at all. She must have closed the window shutter too.
I stood there, breath bated, not daring to breathe in case my grandmother heard.
“Oh,” I heard from within, the utterance coming on a sigh. “Yes,” my grandmother gurgled, a rustle of what I assumed to be her moving on the bed-sheets reaching me. There were several gasps and grunts, which were followed by another moan of pleasure. “Come on,” the woman urged, and for a second I thought there was someone in there with her, that she was exhorting a lover to greater endeavour.
Then I realised she was only talking to herself, that she was using her fingers or perhaps some sex toy against her body.
The image popped into my mind’s eye: my grandmother sprawled wide-legged on top of her bed, some enormous rubber dildo in her fist as she fucked it into her opening.
My bottom lip was between my teeth as I supressed a moan of frustration. My cock was rigid. Despite having wanked it to a spurting climax three times since the episode by the pool, my hard-on was ready for action.
I pawed at myself, one hand sliding under the waistband of my shorts, fingers squeezing my dick.
“God, yes…” I heard my grandmother gasp. “Yes-oh-yes-oh-yes-oh-yes. Oh, God, that’s so good.”
It sounded like my grandmother was working her way to a climax, the grunts and mumblings getting louder, her mewls and whines more urgent in their intensity.
I could hear the bed really moving, the image of my grandmother working her pussy with that rubber cock growing ever more incredible. In my head I pictured her shoving the out-sized dildo into her body. The thing was enormous, far bigger than reality, the size of it increasing my own lewd desires in direct proportion. The hornier I grew the bigger the thing became, my grandmother’s features twisted into a grimace of yearning I’d never seen in real-life, her free hand mauling at her tits as she writhed and squirmed, her flesh stretched to splitting point around the girth of that monster.
Then my grandmother grunted a few times, desperation evident in the way she snarled out her frustration. Then, with a cry of delight bursting out of her it was obvious to me that she was there, that my grandmother had tipped into the abyss.
By then, as the woman inside the darkened room let it all go, I was wanking freely. My shorts were down around my thighs, my cock was in my fist and I was cranking away. It was mindless; I had no thought for the noise I might make if the pleasure became too intense to take; I didn’t even think about my ejaculate and the evidence I’d leave behind if I came.
It never occurred to me that my mother might wake up and catch me with my dick in my fist.
But, as it happened, my mother didn’t appear; I didn’t spray the door and walls and floor tiles with semen; I didn’t get close to a noisy climax.
I was tugging away, re-experiencing the sounds of my grandmother’s orgasm when the light flicked on inside her room.
That sudden burst stilled me, an obscene statue with my cock in my fist. My chest suddenly felt too small for the organs it contained. My heart seemed to be in my throat while my lungs ceased their bellows action, fear paralysing me.
Then I heard the sproing of the mattress dipping and recognised the very real danger of my grandmother opening the door wide to catch me there. I was suddenly cured of my paralysis, a shockwave of fear like a physical blow rolling over me while, with one hand clutching the waist of my shorts, I scuttled away and ducked into the kitchen.
I yanked up my shorts and composed myself as best as I could manage given the scare I’d just had. My erection was clearly outlined by my shorts. There would be no way I could hide my arousal if my grandmother decided to fetch a glass of water and flicked on the light to illuminate her way.
Twenty seconds passed. I was willing my cock to subside. Another ten seconds and I heard a toilet flush – My grandmother wiping up after her private moment?
I stayed where I was, next to the fridge with the glass in my hand, the excuse ready if my grandmother appeared. My erection I could do nothing about. A bit like that afternoon when gran had asked me to fetch her a fresh gin and tonic where I’d rolled off the sunbed, keeping my back to my grandmother as I’d hurried away, half-bent with a hand cupped over my cock, telling the woman I’d bring the drink upon my return.
“Just need to pee!” I’d called over my shoulder, the toilet emergency the smoke and mirrors ploy that masked the real reason for my odd gait.
If I was seen in the kitchen at that moment I’d just have to brazen it out. If she saw, she saw, that was the bottom line.
Fifteen more seconds passed. I watched the numbers on the microwave clock flick to 1:31 – <i>Eight minutes? Is that all the time that had elapsed?</i>
I dared to take a look, my head popping from cover as I checked to see if the light in my grandmother’s room had gone out.
A second after I’d stuck half my face beyond the jamb, the door to her room opened.
Light spilled into the hallway, my grandmother’s shadow flickering across the tiles.
Once again I dashed back to the fridge, glass in hand, waiting.
She passed the kitchen door without a glance. My grandmother didn’t notice me there as she went by, her body covered by a towel.
“Jesus,” I muttered, limbs trembling. “Fucking hell.”
I poured the water and, thankful that my hard-on had subsided enough to no longer be a real cause for concern, took a few deep breaths to calm my jangling nerves. There was no cause for concern. If I met my grandmother on her way back to her room I had the perfect cover story: I needed a drink of water – Look, there’s the glass right there.
It didn’t occur to me to wonder where gran was going at that time of night, I was just relieved to have gotten away with it.
I went out into the corridor and walked along to the dogleg, passing the front door and heading to my room. It wasn’t until I clocked the patio doors that the suspicion filled me.
“No way,” I murmured. “It’s too cold, surely…”
But when I crept to the patio and looked out I saw my grandmother’s head bobbing about in the pool, a luminous buoy bathed in moonlight.
NippleFreak
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We came very close. Even though my cousin was the one I enjoyed most I never had as much sex as much with anyone else as with Sis. We could have gone to work for condom companies. The dam things broke, just completely disintegrated and (in the most embarassing episode) slid off completely and parked itself next to her cervix... It is good that Mom did not come in early that afternoon when I was fishing around of over an hour trying to get it out. We had thought it was just going to be a quickie...
magicalmoments
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Well said.
What kind of condoms were you buying?
We never had any trouble with the ones we used, other than running out.
When I say I would have knocked my sister up, I mean I would have done so on purpose, were one of us adopted.
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LorraineRenee
Experienced
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Yes, I've found that can be interesting, if it's actually something you can pinpoint. I know I have mine! But for some, it seems they just come out of the blue, which is fine as well
LorraineRenee
Experienced
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Thank you
You have all been very helpful and informative... I think the kinkiest people are often the most well-rounded and interesting! There must be something behind it!
Curious...
I am home for spring break, I got here on Friday night.
My parents' room is in the basement, and it doesn't have a door. I figured they moved down there when all of us kids moved out (I'm the last one).
Saturday morning, I was upstairs in my bedroom which is right above where their bed would be, and they literally started having a sex marathon, and they weren't even trying to be quiet.
I asked my girlfriend what she thought about that, and she said, "Maybe they forgot you were back home, or....maybe it was an invite, maybe they wanted you to be curious?"
I've never thought of this before, but now it's all I can think about, it's literally plaguing me...
What do you guys think?
I am home for spring break, I got here on Friday night.
My parents' room is in the basement, and it doesn't have a door. I figured they moved down there when all of us kids moved out (I'm the last one).
Saturday morning, I was upstairs in my bedroom which is right above where their bed would be, and they literally started having a sex marathon, and they weren't even trying to be quiet.
I asked my girlfriend what she thought about that, and she said, "Maybe they forgot you were back home, or....maybe it was an invite, maybe they wanted you to be curious?"
I've never thought of this before, but now it's all I can think about, it's literally plaguing me...
What do you guys think?
D
Daddy2mylilgirl
Guest
I am home for spring break, I got here on Friday night.
My parents' room is in the basement, and it doesn't have a door. I figured they moved down there when all of us kids moved out (I'm the last one).
Saturday morning, I was upstairs in my bedroom which is right above where their bed would be, and they literally started having a sex marathon, and they weren't even trying to be quiet.
I asked my girlfriend what she thought about that, and she said, "Maybe they forgot you were back home, or....maybe it was an invite, maybe they wanted you to be curious?"
I've never thought of this before, but now it's all I can think about, it's literally plaguing me...
What do you guys think?
It could be any number of reasons. They might have forgotten you were home, didn't realize how loud they were being, or just didn't care if you heard. Or maybe they did want you to hear.
If this is the first time for anything like this than I would chalk it up to an innocent occurrence rather than wanting you to hear them all of a sudden.
As you said, they moved down to the basement with no door after everyone moved out. So they might not realize you can hear them.
Although, I do like where your girlfriend's mind went when you told her.
If it happens again then you can reevaluate it.
Last edited by a moderator:
I was hesitant to come out of my room for lunch afterward, but I finally grew the courage because my stomach wouldn't stop growling.
I said a brief hello before digging around the in the fridge, my mom finally says, "Did you sleep well?" I just smiled and said, "Yeah, I did."
She casually asked, "When did you wake up?"
I just shook my head and said, "Oh, not too long ago." (Lie, but it was awkward.)
She just said, "Hmmm....thought I heard you get up early this morning, I guess it was the dogs."
I said, "Nope, wasn't me." and she just smiled and asked if I had any plans tonight for St. Patty's day and I said that I didn't have any yet. She came up next to me, said she was going to go for a run, gave me a hug, said, "If you make any, let me know." and pecked me on the lips.
She usually pecks me on the cheek...
I said a brief hello before digging around the in the fridge, my mom finally says, "Did you sleep well?" I just smiled and said, "Yeah, I did."
She casually asked, "When did you wake up?"
I just shook my head and said, "Oh, not too long ago." (Lie, but it was awkward.)
She just said, "Hmmm....thought I heard you get up early this morning, I guess it was the dogs."
I said, "Nope, wasn't me." and she just smiled and asked if I had any plans tonight for St. Patty's day and I said that I didn't have any yet. She came up next to me, said she was going to go for a run, gave me a hug, said, "If you make any, let me know." and pecked me on the lips.
She usually pecks me on the cheek...
D
Daddy2mylilgirl
Guest
Well, that definitely makes things more interesting.
I guess the next question would be how do you feel about your parents or maybe just your mom wanting you to hear them have sex?
D
Daddy2mylilgirl
Guest
Only your mom can answer that.
Did you ever think maybe try to get your girlfriend to have a loud sex marathon with your mom home?
Did you ever think maybe try to get your girlfriend to have a loud sex marathon with your mom home?
geronimo_appleby
always on the move
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- Nov 25, 2004
- Posts
- 90,768
Good morning Usually only read the stories on here, didn't know there was such an active community on Lit! So I had to register 
Anyway, more on topic - Half the time I masturbate and sometimes when having sex with my girlfriend I fantasise that it's my mom. I've been thinking about her for at least 5 years now. I don't think anything would actually happen but it's always fun to think about. The one fantasy that really gets me off is thinking about us in a 69 position, her wearing some fancy stockings, me going to town on her lips and ass. Oh, and it's a really hot day and she's rather sweaty.
Of course like most pervs I find myself sniffing her knickers on the odd occasion!
Any mature women care to PM me for some more chat on this?
Usually only read the stories on here, didn't know there was such an active community on Lit! So I had to register Anyway, more on topic - Half the time I masturbate and sometimes when having sex with my girlfriend I fantasise that it's my mom. I've been thinking about her for at least 5 years now. I don't think anything would actually happen but it's always fun to think about. The one fantasy that really gets me off is thinking about us in a 69 position, her wearing some fancy stockings, me going to town on her lips and ass. Oh, and it's a really hot day and she's rather sweaty.
Of course like most pervs I find myself sniffing her knickers on the odd occasion!
Any mature women care to PM me for some more chat on this?
geronimo_appleby
always on the move
- Joined
- Nov 25, 2004
- Posts
- 90,768
okay. some more:
The towel was draped over the back of one of the sun-loungers; the very one I’d rested on that afternoon. An image came to me, a recollection from when I’d been skulking in the kitchen: My grandmother’s bare shoulders, the towel wrapped around her – She was naked in the water!
Desire made me bold, the flare of my libido overriding my inhibitions. I stepped out onto the patio and walked across the tiles towards the edge of the pool.
My grandmother’s nudity was apparent as soon as I reached a point where I could see into the pool, the image a distorted refraction, like an arcade mirror at the fair.
She swam away from me in a lazy breaststroke, her wake rippling while the filters sucked and gurgled.
When my grandmother reached to edge of the pool she touched the blue mosaic tile as though performing some sort of ritual before she turned, managing two strokes before she saw me.
“Oh, Andrew,” my grandmother said, surprise at my presence registering on her face. “Hello…”
I gaped down at the upper slopes of her breasts, her skin glistening as sleek as an otter’s pelt. The dark points of my grandmother’s areola were indistinct shadows, her legs scissoring as she trod water, the ripples caused by that energetic cycling action rippling and making it impossible to tell if she kept herself as nature intended or if she preferred her mons depilated.
“What brings you out here?” she continued, looking up at me, arms sweeping the water, legs kicking.
Thinking quickly I replied with, “I thought I heard a noise.” Which was the truth of course, I just didn’t reveal the sound I’d heard was her moaning with pleasure as she masturbated on her bed. “I thought I’d better come out here for a look.” Which, again, was a completely true statement; so far I’d not told any lies. “Aren’t you cold in there?” I asked.
“It’s invigorating,” my grandmother replied. She nodded, “But, yes, it is a little chilly.”
An odd sort of stand-off followed, with her in the pool while I stood close to the edge, still looking down at the shivery image. Neither of us spoke; we just stared at each other.
Maybe she was waiting for me to turn and leave before exiting the pool, something that wasn’t going to happen. An insanity born of desire gripped me. I was wild with lust, close to dropping my shorts and joining the lovely woman in the pool. I wanted to rub my hard cock against her while kissing her mouth; I wanted to tell her to come out of the pool so she could suck me. Inside my head the fantasy reel rolled, with time doing that strange elastic stretch, the thoughts going through my mind in slow and very vivid detail while in reality mere seconds passed.
I pictured my grandmother’s big tits around my cock, my hips pumping as my dick spat a heavy load of jizm over her chin and chest, semen sliding down those wobbly upper slopes. I saw her on her hands and knees, buttocks thrust back, pelvis tilted so I could fuck into her, her sex squelching and farting as her body accommodated the rigid length of me.
The splash of water brought me back to the present. My grandmother had swum to the side of the pool at the shallow end.
“Would you pass me my towel?” she asked.
I could see her chin trembling with the cold.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I replied, moving away.
I went to the pool and held the towel up. Gran looked up at me, crouching down so only her shoulders, neck and head were out of the water.
Then she moved suddenly, climbing out, turning to present her back to me. I wrapped the towel around her, encircling my grandmother with my arms, the front of my body pressed up tight against her.
“Thanks, Andrew,” she said, both her hands coming up to clasp mine. Gran patted my forearms. “You can let go now.”
I held on for a couple of beats longer, my resurrected hard-on wedged between us.
“Andrew?” she added when I continued the embrace.
“You’re cold,” I responded, my voice clotted. In the brief moment of my grandmother’s ascent, in the second before she’d turned I’d seen her areola all tight from the cold water. Watching her breasts swing and shiver had been arousing enough, but I’d also see the precise stripe of her sculpted pubic bush, an almost non-existent vertical line that decorated my grandmother’s lower abdomen, an extension of her cleft, the sight of which had my pulse pounding in my temples.
“Do you think I’m awful?” gran asked when, finally, I let her go. She swivelled to face me, careful not to step back and fall into the pool behind her. “Skinny-dipping. At my age.”
The foolishness was still on me, and in my head, again as time stretched, I rehearsed several speeches, all of which culminated in my grandmother dropping the towel and offering me her body.
“I thought about joining you,” I said.
As soon as the words were out there I realised their impropriety. That statement was laden with suggestion, and I fully expected some sort of sharp reprimand to the effect that it would be completely inappropriate to cavort in the pool with my own mother’s mother, the pair of us naked.
Instead of the expected rebuke I was surprised by her simply grinning at me, head canted to one side, eyes on my face as she said, “Maybe tomorrow night?”
I gaped at her, feeling the weight of my own hanging jaw, the lust having evaporated after I’d uttered those ill-advised words.
“Goodnight, Andrew,” gran added before she lifted up onto tip-toes to kiss my cheek. “I’d best get inside and dried off. I don’t want to catch a chill.”
And then she was gone, a shadow flitting across the patio, a wraith disappearing through the doors.
*
The towel was draped over the back of one of the sun-loungers; the very one I’d rested on that afternoon. An image came to me, a recollection from when I’d been skulking in the kitchen: My grandmother’s bare shoulders, the towel wrapped around her – She was naked in the water!
Desire made me bold, the flare of my libido overriding my inhibitions. I stepped out onto the patio and walked across the tiles towards the edge of the pool.
My grandmother’s nudity was apparent as soon as I reached a point where I could see into the pool, the image a distorted refraction, like an arcade mirror at the fair.
She swam away from me in a lazy breaststroke, her wake rippling while the filters sucked and gurgled.
When my grandmother reached to edge of the pool she touched the blue mosaic tile as though performing some sort of ritual before she turned, managing two strokes before she saw me.
“Oh, Andrew,” my grandmother said, surprise at my presence registering on her face. “Hello…”
I gaped down at the upper slopes of her breasts, her skin glistening as sleek as an otter’s pelt. The dark points of my grandmother’s areola were indistinct shadows, her legs scissoring as she trod water, the ripples caused by that energetic cycling action rippling and making it impossible to tell if she kept herself as nature intended or if she preferred her mons depilated.
“What brings you out here?” she continued, looking up at me, arms sweeping the water, legs kicking.
Thinking quickly I replied with, “I thought I heard a noise.” Which was the truth of course, I just didn’t reveal the sound I’d heard was her moaning with pleasure as she masturbated on her bed. “I thought I’d better come out here for a look.” Which, again, was a completely true statement; so far I’d not told any lies. “Aren’t you cold in there?” I asked.
“It’s invigorating,” my grandmother replied. She nodded, “But, yes, it is a little chilly.”
An odd sort of stand-off followed, with her in the pool while I stood close to the edge, still looking down at the shivery image. Neither of us spoke; we just stared at each other.
Maybe she was waiting for me to turn and leave before exiting the pool, something that wasn’t going to happen. An insanity born of desire gripped me. I was wild with lust, close to dropping my shorts and joining the lovely woman in the pool. I wanted to rub my hard cock against her while kissing her mouth; I wanted to tell her to come out of the pool so she could suck me. Inside my head the fantasy reel rolled, with time doing that strange elastic stretch, the thoughts going through my mind in slow and very vivid detail while in reality mere seconds passed.
I pictured my grandmother’s big tits around my cock, my hips pumping as my dick spat a heavy load of jizm over her chin and chest, semen sliding down those wobbly upper slopes. I saw her on her hands and knees, buttocks thrust back, pelvis tilted so I could fuck into her, her sex squelching and farting as her body accommodated the rigid length of me.
The splash of water brought me back to the present. My grandmother had swum to the side of the pool at the shallow end.
“Would you pass me my towel?” she asked.
I could see her chin trembling with the cold.
“Uh, yeah, sure,” I replied, moving away.
I went to the pool and held the towel up. Gran looked up at me, crouching down so only her shoulders, neck and head were out of the water.
Then she moved suddenly, climbing out, turning to present her back to me. I wrapped the towel around her, encircling my grandmother with my arms, the front of my body pressed up tight against her.
“Thanks, Andrew,” she said, both her hands coming up to clasp mine. Gran patted my forearms. “You can let go now.”
I held on for a couple of beats longer, my resurrected hard-on wedged between us.
“Andrew?” she added when I continued the embrace.
“You’re cold,” I responded, my voice clotted. In the brief moment of my grandmother’s ascent, in the second before she’d turned I’d seen her areola all tight from the cold water. Watching her breasts swing and shiver had been arousing enough, but I’d also see the precise stripe of her sculpted pubic bush, an almost non-existent vertical line that decorated my grandmother’s lower abdomen, an extension of her cleft, the sight of which had my pulse pounding in my temples.
“Do you think I’m awful?” gran asked when, finally, I let her go. She swivelled to face me, careful not to step back and fall into the pool behind her. “Skinny-dipping. At my age.”
The foolishness was still on me, and in my head, again as time stretched, I rehearsed several speeches, all of which culminated in my grandmother dropping the towel and offering me her body.
“I thought about joining you,” I said.
As soon as the words were out there I realised their impropriety. That statement was laden with suggestion, and I fully expected some sort of sharp reprimand to the effect that it would be completely inappropriate to cavort in the pool with my own mother’s mother, the pair of us naked.
Instead of the expected rebuke I was surprised by her simply grinning at me, head canted to one side, eyes on my face as she said, “Maybe tomorrow night?”
I gaped at her, feeling the weight of my own hanging jaw, the lust having evaporated after I’d uttered those ill-advised words.
“Goodnight, Andrew,” gran added before she lifted up onto tip-toes to kiss my cheek. “I’d best get inside and dried off. I don’t want to catch a chill.”
And then she was gone, a shadow flitting across the patio, a wraith disappearing through the doors.
*
Farmstud30
Virgin
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- Aug 24, 2006
- Posts
- 23
Good morning
Anyway, more on topic - Half the time I masturbate and sometimes when having sex with my girlfriend I fantasise that it's my mom. I've been thinking about her for at least 5 years now. I don't think anything would actually happen but it's always fun to think about. The one fantasy that really gets me off is thinking about us in a 69 position, her wearing some fancy stockings, me going to town on her lips and ass. Oh, and it's a really hot day and she's rather sweaty.
Of course like most pervs I find myself sniffing her knickers on the odd occasion!
Any mature women care to PM me for some more chat on this?
I never had sexual thoughts about my mother and wonder if it is quite common amoung young guys or just a few out there have those thoughts. Was I the exception and not the rule? My mother is 26 years older than I am. I know there are a lot of incest stories on Lit dealing with Mother/Son. I prefer the family incest stories with some build up to make them sound real. I get tired of the ones that have to try to cover every sexual base (anal, lesbian, gay, etc.). It seems like there are few written this way anymore and if I want to find some new ones to me to read I have to search older stories. Some examples of ones I have found to my liking are "Soccer Dads," "The Bug That Got Me Mom," and "Family Photo Shoot." There are others, but these come to mind now.
rulickable
Literotica Guru
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- Feb 6, 2014
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Any ladies have any fantasies or recollections of fathers, brothers, or uncles?
kaitlyn_sun
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this is really the only place on the site where we can talk about incest, so I have to post this here, even though it's not really appropriate.
most of what gets talked about in this forum is either fantasies, or long-ago experiences... or even longtime ones that were intensely sexual.
but... I really haven't seen anyone else post about lifelong, emotionally and sexually fulfilling incestuous relationships.
I've mentioned my dad in the forum before, and about how being with him is something that's been a part of my life for a very long time, and something that I absolutely cherish, and something I plan to do for as long as we're able...
but interestingly, I'm not an incest fetishist. I'm not really turned on by incest. I just happen to do it.
is there anyone else on here like that? someone that has a incredibly intense, loving, erotic relationship with a family member despite not really seeing incest in and of itself as arousing?
most of what gets talked about in this forum is either fantasies, or long-ago experiences... or even longtime ones that were intensely sexual.
but... I really haven't seen anyone else post about lifelong, emotionally and sexually fulfilling incestuous relationships.
I've mentioned my dad in the forum before, and about how being with him is something that's been a part of my life for a very long time, and something that I absolutely cherish, and something I plan to do for as long as we're able...
but interestingly, I'm not an incest fetishist. I'm not really turned on by incest. I just happen to do it.
is there anyone else on here like that? someone that has a incredibly intense, loving, erotic relationship with a family member despite not really seeing incest in and of itself as arousing?
rulickable
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NippleFreak
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We were both in college and funds were tight so I could only afford the cheapest ones most of the time but at least one "unfortunate episode" did involve one of the more expensive condoms. I think that the main factor was in how vigorous our love making was. We both used to come away with bruises afterwards from our hips knocking against one another.
As for the issue of pregnancy I still fantasize about what it would have been like if my blood cousin had become pregnant by me. I produced two unintended pregnancies in my life but she is one of only three women who I really would have wanted to have kids with. Of course severe depression runs in the family along with the typical "black Irish" features so that would have been a problem.
NippleFreak
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I won't say that I had no fantasies about Mom but there definitely were not many. I just never found her to be physically attractive which is strange since the strongest attractions that I have felt for any women have been for relatives on her side of the family.
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