Gramma Torrie Ch 06

Roger's Story:

I didn't really sleep. I dozed though.

When I woke she was on her back and she WAS asleep. She was snoring softly, a gentle purr that I found endearing and, somehow, erotic. Her sweet womanscent was in the air and I was fully erect.

I rolled around, very slowly, carefully, not wanting to awaken her. When I was up, my knees between hers, my hands outside of her shoulders, just looking at her, the word "love" actually flashed through my mind although I quickly shoved it away. But she looked so damn innocent, her lips parted slightly, snoring softly, I wanted her but I wanted to make sure she was happy. It was, all in all, a strange sensation for someone like me who had always seen women as a goal to be scored on, or an object to be fucked, or, if I was feeling good about her, a person to share something with and then be done. These tender feelings I was feeling were foreign to me.

I liked them.

As I watched her eyes started moving under her eyelids, the Rapid Eye Movement sleep I had learned of in a psychology or maybe an anatomy class. I knew she was dreaming and kind of hoped she was dreaming of me.

I lowered my hips, slowly, and guided myself. I hoped she wouldn't wake as I touched her.

Her eyes opened and met mine as I slipped inside of her and there was something about that, the eye contact, that instantly tore my control away.

I came, suddenly, powerfully, my head thrown back. It was good. Hell, it was the BEST I ever had. And she was smiling, a sweet smile of happiness, as I bent to kiss her.

"I wanted you to wake with me inside of you," I said, nuzzling her neck.

"Maybe next time," she said, giggling, telling me there would be a next time.

She started to roll away but I caught her.

"Oh sugar," I said, "It's time you learned about afterplay."

I kissed her then, a soft kiss, my hand light on her hip, caressing the hard roundness of her hip bone and the ball joint of her hip joint. My hands roamed, slowly, gently, and I kept kissing her, over and over, as she kissed back, making soft sounds deep in her throat, the sounds I would come to enjoy very much as time passed.

We dozed again and the next time I woke, it was her hand, squeezing very gently, bringing me erect, that woke me.

We took our time. Hell, it had only been minutes since my last climax so I had no choice but to take my time. She pulled me on top and took me into her body again, and now she wasn't smiling. The grin she flashed matched the one I practiced in the mirror. She looked feral as her hips bucked under me.

"Come on, baby," she was saying, almost chanting, "come on, baby."

And I was holding nothing back. My hips were thrusting, hard now, nothing gentle. I could feel our bodies meet, my pubic bone meeting hers as we shared little grunts with each thrust.

She came with a high-pitched squeal, finally losing the last of her inhibitions.

And I kept up my rhythm, bringing her to a second and third orgasm.

"Oh Jesus," she was laughing and crying at the same time, "Oh Jesus," she said, pulling her legs up so her heels were digging into the small of my back.

"That's right, Roger," she said, "come on now, fill me up, please baby."

I was straining then, trying to finish, but I wasn't making it.

Exhausted, I collapsed, sucking in great draughts of air, spent.

"I love you," she whispered and that did it. I exploded. It was painful and wonderful at the same time, my body giving more than it was designed to give.

My back arched and I felt my entire body shudder with the pure ecstasy/agony of that ejaculation.

She giggled then, very softly, and said, her voice very low, her breath warm and moist in my ear, "God, Roger, if I'd know that's all it took I'd have said it sooner."

"Say it again," I whispered, my body still trembling.

"I love you," she said, and my body tried to cum again.

She sighed deeply.

"God," she said, with her own gasp, "so many firsts."

"What firsts?" I asked, my own breathing none too easy.

"Well," she said, giggling softly, "you're the first man to ever make me climax. Hell," and she giggled at such a mild word, "you're the first man to ever see me naked and the first man I ever saw naked."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely curious, "and you were married for how long?"

She giggled again and said, "47 years, but Chester was very, well, with him sex was five minutes on Thursday night and the lights were never on."

I rolled out of bed at that, found the light switch, and turned on the lights.

"ROGER!" she sort of cried, covering herself with a sheet.

"Oh no," I said, taking the sheet and tugging it away, "I'm pretty sure we're past modesty by now."

"Oh God," she sort of moaned but then she giggled, that oddly girlish sound from her, and laid back. "Okay," she said, "what do you see?"

"A beautiful woman," I replied, meaning it.

I climbed back onto the bed and kissed her.

Then I sat back, sitting on my feet, and started truly looking at her. There had been enough light scattered to see what I was doing, but now I could see all the details. And I liked, very much, what I saw.

I started at her face, touching, and kissing her lightly. It was a fascinating face, Not beautiful. Not even pretty really. But striking. Her eyes were surrounded by tiny wrinkles, soft when I brushed them with my fingertips and then when I kissed them. Her face was a tracery of fine lines, deep around the corner of her mouth, shallow everywhere else.

Her ears had a thin scattering of very coarse hair peeking out, and she giggled when I touched it.

I picked up her hand and very gently brushed each finger. Each joint was knobby, and I was afraid to touch it very hard, I didn't want to hurt her. I kissed each joint and then took each finger in my mouth, sucking it softly, drawing a very soft little hum from her.

I did the same with her forearm, then her elbow, the joint knobby like her fingers, and I kissed the inside of her elbow very gently.

I did the same with her upper arm, gently moving her hand until it was straight over her head.

At her armpit, I found a few dozen hairs, each silver like the hair on her head, and each very thick and wiry. I wondered if she ever shaved them and hoped she didn't. I kissed and licked her armpit making her giggle and say a breathless, "ROGEERRRRRR!" She tasted very lightly of sweat salt.

I did her other hand and arm the same way and then her throat. It was soft and had that warm wrinkled skin I was coming to truly love. I played with the wattle under her chan and then latched on to her throat, deliberately planting a hickey there, as if we were in high school again. She squirmed and called my name again, but she wasn't trying very hard to get away.

The deep hollows of her collar bones and the bones themselves, so delicate I was almost afraid to touch them drew my kisses, as did the ridges of her sternum, clearly visible under her thin skin.

Her breasts were small, the glands dry, making barely noticeable bumps. Her nipples were pink, a bit oversize on small areolas. I touched and watched as they tightened into hard little cones, tipped with the nipples.

I kissed each, and moved down her body.

The skin of her belly was oddly soft and somehow a bit oversize for her body. I assumed it was a leftover from losing weight. A circle, maybe the size of a saucer, of deeply wrinkled skin surrounded her navel, a cute little innie. I kissed it and she squealed when I blew a raspberry.

Her mons was prominent, a distinct mound between the hollows of her hips. Oddly, it was the only part of her body where she didn't seem to have lost the fat cells with menopause. Her nether lips were full and almost plump, leaving her sex as a slit, with no sign of delicate inner lips peeking out. Like her armpits, it was covered with very sparse hair, silver, coarse, almost wiry. I wondered if she'd yell if I started plucking them.

I bent and kissed, feeling a sudden tension in her body. Her womanscent was a perfume making me want more, but my self-control held and I moved down.

Her thighs were very thin, the thigh gap distinct. I spanned the right thigh, up near the fork of her legs, with my thumbs and middle fingers. The joint of her knee was the biggest thing on her leg, and I kissed it.

It was her feet, though, that captured my attention.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't have a foot fetish or anything, but hers fascinated me. They were very long, I later found out she wore a size 11A shoe and had to put inserts into even that narrow shoe because they were still too wide. Each toe was long. The veins across the top and the tendons showed up in stark relief. Again, each joint was swollen and knobby, making me want to tend to them. She had distinct corns on four toes, thick bunions on both of her big toe joints, and hard calluses on the heels.

It was her nails, though, that had captured my attention. They were thick and yellow and horny and long, almost talons. My desire to tend to them, to shape them, to color them, was almost irresistible. I settled for kissing each one, in turn, holding each toe separately as I did.

Then to break the mood I did little piggies to market, making her squeal and giggle like a schoolgirl.

I rolled her over, onto her back, and started up her legs, kissing and licking and tickling.

Her ass was fascinating too. Here, the fat cells had all disappeared, leaving only the thin muscles, very distinct. A tiny ass, cute, but hardly feminine at all.

When I spread her cheeks I found her so tiny I wondered how in the world she managed to crap. It was a very tiny opening, surrounded by wrinkled skin, no stain at all, very pink, with a single skin tag showing very low, near the taint (that area on a woman where "t'aint ass and t'aint pussy) and she jumped when I touched it. As I traced the tiny opening she asked, "what are you doing?"

I chuckled and said, "exploring."

"What if I don't like it?" she asked into her pillow.

"All you have to say is 'stop'," I said.

I continued tracing the circle and she did not say stop. Her hips started reacting instead.

But, again, this was a time for exploring, so I moved up her back, tracing her spine and the big muscles on either side of it, her shoulder blades, very distinct on her skinny frame, and ending at the base of her skull.

Then I rolled her over, very gently.

"What do you call them?" I asked, my hand brushing her boobs.

She giggled and said, "my breasts, sometimes my titties."

"Well," I said, lifting her right breast by the nipple, "this looks like an Abigail to me."

She giggled.

"And this," I said, lifting the left, is now Veronica."

"I see," she said, "and which do you like better?"

"Welllllll," I said, making a production of lifting and inspecting each one, "Abby is pretty cute," and I kissed it, "but Ronnie is plumper. I think Abby is my preference but only by a little."

She giggled again, that delightfully girlish sound, and used her hands to push them together, squeezing a little. "They both like you," she said.

I kissed them both, sucking on her nipples, fondling and squeezing gently for a minute or two, and then sat back on my heels again.

"And what do you call this?" I said, brushing my fingers across those wiry hairs of her mons.

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

"My hoo-ha," she said.

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

"From now on, this is Madeline," I said, brushing my fingertips across it and then bending to kiss the beautiful Madeline.

"You do know you're crazy," she said, smiling up at me.

"Crazy about you," I said, embracing her, kissing her, my hands exploring her back.

"Your angel wings," I said, fingertips tracing her shoulder blades.

My hand traced down her back to cup her skinny butt.

"You need to be careful and be a good girl," I said.

"Oh," she said, leaning back slightly, "and why is that?"

"Because a cute little bottom like yours just begs to be spanked," I said.

The sudden tension in her body and the quick intake of breath told me I had struck a nerve although I didn't know why. I filed that away for future reference.

"And what do you call it?" I asked, lightly rubbing her ass.

"My butt? My bottom?" she said, but the intonation made the question marks obvious.

"Wellllll," I said, still caressing it, "I think I'll call it Bambi."

She giggled and I added, "Bee ay em bee eye, standard spelling."

I kissed her again and then rolled onto my back, my fingers interlaced behind my head.

"Your turn, toots," I said.

She laughed heartily and rolled up onto her knees, showing an odd grace although I knew it had to be hurting her arthritic knees.

"Welllllll," she said, copying my intonation, "let's see."

It felt good, I won't deny it. Her fingertips were so delicate, like little moth wings touching my face.

She explored my body, as I had done to hers, slowly. I sighed as she sucked on my nipples and made me yelp when she bit. I felt goosebumps rising as her fingers traced down and was surprised when I got hard when she squeezed gently on my dick.

I got hard again, for the third time in just a few hours. I was the one squirming as she cupped and lifted my balls, squeezing very gently, not hurting, just getting the feel of them.

I liked it.

She released me and continued her exploration down my legs. I squealed and kicked when she got to my toes.

Rather than have me roll over, though, she moved up and straddled me.

I was hard and she was ready. She took my erection in her hand and lifted herself, again showing that odd grace, smiled down at me, and took me into her body.

"You know," she said as she settled all the way down, accepting my full length, "this is another first you're giving me?"

"Oh?" I said, holding her eyes, "what's that?"

"Well," she said, and she bent down and kissed me, "two more firsts, actually."

I grinned. "Go on."

"Well," and she paused, lifted her breasts, and did that womanthing with her hips only a woman can pull off, "it's the first time I was ever on top."

"Mmmhmmmm," I said, catching her hands in mine, "and?"

"And this is the first time I ever had a conversation with someone inside of me," she said, smiling.

"And what shall we talk about," I asked.

She grinned and thrust and I saw her body arch and felt her squeeze and then start flowing around me, soaking my balls.

"What you do to me, for starters," she said and came in a second wave, her back arching again, her nose starting to run in concert with what was happening between her legs.

"Don't stop," I said, holding her hands.

She laughed softly and squeezed again, another gush of her ecstasy flowing.

"As if I could," she said, starting to breathe heavily now.

"Don't stop," I said again.

She was obviously straining now, her breath in harsh little gasps. Her nose was running and she was sweating. She came once more, hard, her body clenching, squeezing where I was inside her almost painfully.

"Oh God," she cried out and sort of collapsed onto me.

I kissed her, a snotty, salty kiss and I liked it.

And then she did it again.

"I love you," she said, and I came. It was the spectacular combination of agony and ecstasy of a man who is ejaculating for the third time in a few hours.

I pulled her to me and whispered, "I love you, too."

I'm not sure if she heard me. She was snoring softly and I was loving her weight on me as I just held her. It was dead weight now, and I was flattered that she had been that comfortable.

Annddd, I was trying to figure out if I had meant it.

But I held her and she was so light, and I was so content, I barely felt myself soften and slip out before I dozed again.