It had only been a few weeks since I had come out to my family. It had taken me a long time to do it, as I had already turned 18. My parents had been supportive, although I noticed they weren't too happy about it. That week my dad told me that my grandfather, his father, was inviting me to spend the weekend at his house in the country. It was something he had done many times. My grandpa and I were very close and I loved spending time with him, but this time, going to do it openly as a gay man, I felt a twinge of unease. How would my grandfather receive me? My dad noticed and reassured me:
-Don't worry, we've told him... about you -it still seemed taboo to talk about this, which hurt me-, and he's taken it well. In fact, he's even more eager to see you after hearing about it.
I felt better, but still a little uneasy. As it was, on Friday, when I got out of school, I took the bus to the town where my grandfather lived. When I arrived at the station, he was already waiting to take me home. I felt a bit uncomfortable, but he came smiling towards me and gave me a big hug, with all the love in the world. That made me so happy, I loved my grandpa very much and a rejection from him would have hurt me very much.
We spent the rest of the day doing farm work. My grandfather had been cultivating fruit and vegetables for years and I liked to help him when I went to his house. That physical labor meant he had an enviable body for his age, even though he was not yet 60 years old. My grandpa was a tall, stocky man, with a thick beard still black in color, although it was already whitening quite a bit, still really handsome. His body had powerful muscles, although he also had an incipient belly that made him even more attractive. In addition, he used to wear tight T-shirts and jeans that enhanced his beautiful forms even more. I admired him a lot, although I had never thought about him sexually. He was my grandfather!
That night we were having dinner, chatting about a thousand inconsequential things, when I noticed that my grandfather was trying to steer the conversation towards a topic he found embarrassing. I felt him nervous, for the first time in my life talking to me.
-Well, Eddie, your father already told me... -he began, stammering.
-Yes, Grandpa, I hope you didn't mind...
-Sweetheart! -he said warmly-. Nothing at all! To me you are my child and I don't care if you are gay or not. I'm sorry your parents and I didn't give you enough trust to tell us much earlier -he said, a little sadly.
-It's not that, Grandpa -I hastened to assure him-. It's just that... well... I've had a hard time dealing with my desires myself... they're a bit peculiar...
My grandfather looked at me a bit puzzled and asked:
-What do you mean, haven't you already had experiences, with peers, with boys your age?
-No, I haven't, Grandpa. You see, it's just that... -I didn't know how to go on. I was so embarrassed to talk about these things with my grandfather, but at the same time I felt completely compelled to do it, I don't know why.
-Come on, Eddie -he encouraged me-. You can tell me anything. I want there to be absolute trust between us. Don't worry, I'll never judge you.
-You see, Grandpa, the thing is that boys my age don't interest me at all. I've always been attracted to mature men, men of a certain age, strong, big, powerful...
-I... understand -he said, raising an eyebrow.
-I've always imagined myself in the hands of such a man -I continued-. I've fantasized... well, about him possessing me, making me his... in fact, I like to think of a big, powerful man doing whatever he wants with me... making me his plaything -I blushed red as I said this.
-Yes, I see... to be like a possession of his, like a puppet in his hands....
-Even more than that -I continued, reddening even more, but without stopping. I had to release at that moment everything I had in my head, to confide it to someone, and who better than my dear grandfather? -When I say become his plaything... I really mean it. I dream of being very small and being in his hands LITERALLY. Every time I see the hands of a mature male all I can think about is what it would be like to be so tiny that I could be in the palm of those hands, inside his fist. And not only that...
-Go on, don't keep anything inside -my grandfather encouraged me, listening with big interest.
-I like to imagine myself worshipping his feet... his giant, sweaty and smelly feet... even that he puts his huge foot on top of me and my whole body is underneath it... at his mercy...
-Wow -smiled my grandfather-. That sounds pretty humiliating...