Sorry this has taken so long to write! Clearly I should have prepared for it before submitting the first chapter. But here it is, I hope people are happier with the length of this chapter and like how the story is developing. Enjoy!
Agnes awoke at 6am as she did every morning and the same as every morning she knew she wasn't going back to sleep. Rising from her bed with a sigh, she opened the bedroom door and went down the corridor to the bathroom. All the aches and creaks in her bones reminded her of her age and as she reached the bathroom and flicked on the light, her reflection did the same. Although mentally Agnes did not feel 73, the feel of her body and the look of it told her that she most definitely was. The old lady stood in front of the mirror and smoothed her nightie down over her body, turning and vainly trying to hide the signs of the passage of time. But Agnes had to admit there was no mistaking the girth of her legs, the excess skin on her neck, the liver spots on her hands. But most depressingly as Agnes remembered being a young, desirable lady at one point, the belly she hated so much and the sagging breasts that hung just above it... She hated how her breasts and belly hung when she bent down at all, how her belly stopped her from seeing her white pubic bush any longer (not that she had any need to see it any longer, but still) and how her breasts looked like large deflated balloons that clung to her chest when she looked at them in the mirror. Agnes pushed up her breasts, recalling when they rode high on her chest, unlike now as the skin on them was the texture of thin, well-used plastic bags, wrinkled, old and frail. When she turned side on and looked below her breasts, her stomach barely went in at all however much she tried to suck it in and she arched her neck trying to smooth out the wrinkles and the effect of the double chin. But it was useless and she knew it, cursing her fanciful vanity.
All of these signs of age were a source of distress to this elderly lady who could remember being young and beautiful when she was fighting off her suitors. And then Gerald won her by being so much more charming, handsome and generous than all the rest of them. Gosh, she had loved him so much! However, if Agnes had been younger she could see herself finding another man, Gerald would not have begrudged her that, as long as she was happy Gerald wouldn't have begrudged her anything. But no, Agnes reminded herself for the umpteenth time, Gerald was dead ten years, she was well past her prime and desirability and into the years when she was only good for acting as grandmother. But she couldn't even do that, her son being in Australia with his family and her daughter a high-flying career woman who showed no care for her mother. So, Agnes was just a lonely, old woman whose highlight of the day would be receiving a young man who obviously didn't want to be in her house and could barely contain his boredom while he was there. But as the saying went, beggars couldn't be choosers and these days Agnes felt like a beggar for any kind of company, so she sat down on the toilet and got ready for the day.
-- -
Jamie woke up at 10am to the sound of his alarm alerting him he had an hour before he had to be at Mrs Travers' house. As usual for a young man upon waking up, he was sporting a hard on, he wanted to believe that it was because he had been dreaming of Alice, but he could not be sure of that after the events of the previous day. As soon as he'd got home from Mrs Travers' house still with a decidedly uncomfortable hardon, he'd gone straight up to his room, gone to his laptop and googled the very unsubtle search term 'granny fucking'. It had thrown up plenty of videos and he'd gone through them trying to work out what had happened to him earlier on in the day. The first started with a stooped, dumpy, old woman in typical granny wear, a cardigan, blouse and skirt similar to what Mrs Travers had been wearing when Jamie had seen her earlier. The lady and the man chatted for a while, flirted for a bit, then started kissing and then the lady removed her cardigan revealing stooped shoulders and the cleavage that would lead down to some delightfully droopy breasts. When Jamie saw the cardigan removed and he could see more of her body he suddenly wanted to see all of it, he wanted to see all the woman's flaws in detail, the large belly, the sagging breasts, the fat, hairy pussy... And then he wanted to be the man in the video, he had his cock out and was stroking it. Jamie loaded up several more videos and each time the sight of the elderly woman starting out the video looking like a typical granny, then being fucked in all sorts of positions by a younger man and ending the video with her face being blasted by the man's cock had Jamie hard as a rock.
Now, Jamie understood the whole granny fetish; the idea of a woman who was not an obvious sexual being in any way being dethroned and made into a complete slut was incredibly hot. And the rolls of fat, the wrinkles and the saggy skin were also hot exactly because they were not what most men wanted, they should disgust him but they didn't, he wanted to kiss them, bury his face in them, and explore every inch of them with his tongue...
-- -
Jamie knocked on Mrs Travers' door and waited a similarly long time as the day before until she opened the door, saying:
'Well hello dear, how are you?' Agnes was wearing a blouse again today, a white billowy one this time and a skirt again. Her body looked similarly as dumpy as it had the previous day, Jamie could see how low her breasts hung and the paunch she tried to hide by wearing clothes that didn't hug the figure.
Jamie was, for obvious reasons, much less pissed off about being there than he had been the day before and this was reflected in his tone which was much brighter, 'I'm great, thank you, Mrs Travers! How are you?'
The elderly woman noticeably brightened up at receiving such an enthusiastic response, but had to chide him, 'Now dear, what did I say yesterday?? You're Jamie and I'm Agnes, I may be old but you don't have to remind me, dear!'
Jamie was mortified that he might have offended Agnes and ruined his already non-existent chances of getting his hands (or tongue, cock or any other part of his anatomy) on her pussy. But he was a charming young man and apologised, smiling disarmingly, 'My apologies, Agnes. That's the last time, I promise.'
Agnes chuckled and welcomed him in, asking him if he wanted any refreshment or snack. This time Jamie accepted the offer, 'Some juice would be lovely please, Agnes.'
Again, Agnes' face brightened, 'Certainly, my dear,' and she hobbled off to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of apple juice.
'So, dear, how's your mother?' asked Agnes, making conversation as Jamie seemed so much friendlier than previously.
'She's great, thanks Agnes. She asked me to say hello,' replied Jamie.
'Oh, did she? Well, isn't she sweet!' Agnes said happily. Then, still wary of boring young Jamie with the conversation of an old woman, she breezily said, 'Well dear, do you want to get to it?'
Jamie stared at Agnes for a second, as her words brought a mental image of him bending her over and pounding her from behind. Then, he was brought back to earth and stammered, 'Y-yes...yes, please, Agnes.'
