Reading my granddaughter's graphic reports on her new life as a college student stirred memories of my own time in the throes of sexual liberation.
Sandra is the daughter of my older son, Charles. She and her brother, Charles Jr. or "Chip," who is just eleven months younger than her, have always been my favorites among my seven grandkids, though I love them all, of course.
Sandra and Chip take after their parents. My son and his wife, Marie, met at an orgy and have been swingers all their dating and married life. While Charles was getting lots of pussy, he says, he knew that Marie was the woman he wanted to marry when at that sex party she took his substantial dick in her mouth and down her throat with room to spare, swallowed his cum and kept him hard so that he could then fuck her.
Their children are remarkably attractive and borderline brilliant. Sandra is working on her Ph.D. in history while teaching some courses under a professor's guidance. She is, naturally, also banging the prof. She's been credited as a researcher in one best-selling history book. Chip is already making waves at the Law Review during his first year at Yale after earning a B.A. summa cum laude with a double major, business administration and political science.
When they visited me several years ago, the kids not only freely and gleefully discussed their sexual escapades with others but also with each other. They need not have worried that I might object to incest. I had to shift in my chair as Sandra described how wonderful it feels to have Chip's cock in her mouth and to feel it throb when he comes in her throat or pussy. Fact is I've always regretted never fucking my own brothers.
I have to laugh, though, when I think they might be the only two men I've taken a pass on in my life.
I gave my first hand job when I was twelve and my first blowjob on my thirteenth birthday. I discarded my virginity in the back seat of a Buick following an eighth-grade graduation party.
My junior year in high school, I accepted a challenge from my best friend and fucked the entire starting offensive line after the homecoming football game, then went double or nothing with the defensive backfield. Needless to say, I was called on to repeat the feat the following year.
I went on my version of a double date -- two boys and me -- to the senior prom. We didn't stay long. We went to a pool party at a friend's house where everyone seemed to have forgotten to pack a swimsuit. I fucked them both before taking on a handful of other boys. We took the long, long, long way home so that I could give them both blowjobs on the ride.
My classmates in nursing school teased me by saying I was majoring in anatomy, with a special focus on male genitalia. I laughed along with them. I couldn't deny it.
There were the times -- yes, plural -- for instance, when I hustled over to the fraternity where Sandra years later pulled some trains and announced to the brothers that I was ready and willing. They kept a mattress in the basement game room. As a couple of them laid it out on the floor, two others would rip off my clothes. (Once literally; I had to borrow a shirt and pants to wear back to my room the next morning.) Anyway, any number of them would drill my pussy while I sucked random cocks. We'd usually finish with me lying on my back, looking up at them and laughing like a fucking hyena as they painted me with cum from head to toe.
Before I became a nursing supervisor and had to pretend to be a responsible adult, my colleague Ashley and I would find a vacant hospital room, or even just a vacant bed in a semi-private room, and invite the male doctors, nurses and orderlies between our legs. Don't ask me how we did it acrobatically, but we once finished the party with me licking Ashley's cum-filled cunt while a cardiac surgeon and a pediatrician banged away in my pussy and asshole.
The cardiac surgeon became my husband. Charles's father, Sandra and Chip's granddad. Now late, alas, after the disease he dedicated his life to curing struck him down as we strolled along the Champs Elysees two years ago.
Conrad and I agreed on so much -- family (vital, important above all else), medicine (second only to family), politics (live and let live), religion (live and let live), arts (no opera or ballet, please), recreation (golf, tennis, swimming, running), sex (more, more and more).
We hosted formal dinners and cocktail parties to raise money for the animal shelter, the food bank, the community theater, the underfunded public library and public health service. We gave sparingly to political candidates, believing few of them of any stripe were really worth our trust and support. We filled our shelves to overflowing with books -- novels, biographies, histories. We compiled a substantial library of music, from Chubby Checker and the Beatles to Bach and Beethoven.
We hosted orgies. Neither of us possessed an ounce of jealousy. He said he loved to watch me suck other men's cocks, gulp down their cum. I told him I relished seeing his dick slip back and forth between other women's pussy lips. We were the horniest couple we knew -- the night before he planted his face on that sidewalk in Paris, he fucked me twice before I eased him to dreamland with a languid blowjob. Sometimes I think I can still taste his slightly sour cum.
Once when Sandra and I were deep in one of our periodic swapping of ribald tales, she asked me how many cocks I'd had in me.
"Oh, honey," I said, "I really don't know. Frankly, when the number hit three figures, I stopped counting. In fact, there were times when I was so busy with a cock on one end that I wasn't sure who was sticking his dick in me on the other end. I just knew I liked it."
"Holy fuck, gram, you really rocked."
I smiled at her, grazed my fingers over her soft cheek. "I still do, dear," I said. "I still do."
She then told me about a sorority on campus that staged a night during Pledge Week called Blind Bitch Banging. They'd invite entire fraternities over. They'd blindfold pledges and have the brothers fuck them, so the girls wouldn't know whose dick was in their pussy or their mouth. Sandra didn't join that house. But she instituted the game at the sorority she did join. It was so popular that the sisters refused to limit it to Pledge Week and pledges. They held it monthly. They had a signup sheet. They had a waiting list.
I don't mean any of this to be bragging. I don't aim to shock, dazzle or dismay. I just want to establish a baseline of knowledge about me for you to understand what I set about doing after recently re-reading Sandra's missives from college. (A sampling of which, by the way, you can find in the "Letters and Transcripts" section of this website.)
Since my husband croaked, I'd been as celibate as a nun. For sure, I gave my vibrator and dildos workouts. I sucked my cunt juice off my fingers. I hadn't sworn off pleasure itself, after all. But reading Sandra's reports told me what I needed was a return to the days when I enjoyed a steady parade of cocks to play with.
I called my old friend Ashley, the one whose pussy I licked while my future husband and another doctor nailed me.
"Ash, I'm ready to get back in the game. I need your help."
"It's about time, Corey. And, you're still certifiably hot. I've had several men ask about your, uh, 'availability.' You're in that rare category -- a GILF, Grandma I'd Like to Fuck."
"Well," I said, stifling a laugh, "are these GILF seekers wrinkled old guys with man boobs, sagging asses and limp dicks? Because I'm no spring chicken, you know."
In my eighth decade, though, I am in remarkably good shape. My skin is smooth, my eyes bright, my boobs still hang around on my chest rather than down around my waist. I've kept at my exercise routine, so my hips are tight, my legs slim and firm.
"I'm shocked and offended, insulted to the highest degree," Ashley cried. I should have had her on FaceTime. I'm sure she was smirking in feigned offense. "To imply that I would set you up with any man unworthy of your fine fuckability denigrates my character. I challenge you to a duel, madam."
"I accept your challenge," I said, stifling my laughter no more. "I choose for weapons hard cocks at close quarters. You may name the time and place."
"Eight o'clock tomorrow night. My place. Come prepared to come. I intend to give your sweet vag a lickin' it'll remember."
Ashley had broken away from the medical profession to marry a fantastically wealthy real estate developer. He had used other people's money to amass a fortune for himself. She had taken half of it, including the 10,000-square-foot house, in the divorce settlement. The final straw was when she caught him fucking other women without inviting her to join in. To add insult to injury, she made sure she got to keep the contract for the well-hung gardener too.
I arrived promptly at eight. Since I had been sexually idle for so long, I was a bit nervous. Ashley put me at ease with some tender hugs and kisses, a caress of my ass. And a glass of wine. To give us some alone time, she had told the men to show up at nine, which they did.
They were handsome dudes. I was pleased. Austin was probably a bit over six feet tall. He had distinguishing patches of gray at the temples, but a full mane of thick black hair otherwise. Even in a loose polo shirt and slacks, I could see he was well toned. Troy was bit shorter, stockier, a little thinner on top. But he had a bright smile and a hearty laugh. I claimed him for my own, at least to begin with.
Ashley and Austin sat on the couch, Troy and I on a facing love seat. He put his arm around me. I nestled against him, let my hand rest lightly on his thigh. Austin owned a regional chain of convenience stores. Troy was managing partner in a financial consulting firm. They knew literature, theater, music, cinema, current affairs. They were light-hearted, witty. They were younger than I and men I couldn't wait to get naked with.
Ashley had the same thought. She slid against Austin, pressing her right tit against his shoulder and running her fingers up his thigh to the growing bulge in his pants. Troy pulled me hard against him. I moved my hand up to his stiff prick. We kissed. Ashely and I massaged their dicks, they fondled our tits.
Ashley stood up, grabbed Austin's hand and motioned for him to stand. We all rose and followed her to the master bedroom, where she had prepared her king-size bed for us by removing all bedding except the bottom sheet. She wrestled with Austin's belt, button and zipper while Troy unbuttoned my blouse, pushed if off my shoulders, reached around to unhook my bra and let it fall to the floor.
Troy stooped to lick, kiss and suck my nipples. Ashley knelt, fished Austin's dick from his pants and wrapped her lips around the tip. I held Troy close to my chest. My nipples were hard little rocks. He sucked them tenderly. I ran my fingers through what hair he had.
I whispered, "That feels good, Troy. That feels really good."
