A Long Lost Innocence

Layla glimpsed him through the trees, her grandpa Ezra stripped to the waist and his shorts looking baggy on his still strong but slender legs. The businessman of his early years dressed in his sharp suits and with his neatly cut hair, which she remembered from her youngest days, was now a wilder guy,

'someone who had reverted to being a hippy'

, as her mom, Carol, would say in scarcely controlled disapproval.

"Appearances can be deceptive," she would snap in reply whenever their conversations about him turned to what Ezra now did, the man having made his money and reverting to a lifestyle and appearance that suited him best and that she had learned to love.

His once black hair showed lots of grey, and he now had it tied back in a ponytail, all of it brushed back, and his bearded face lent him a wild, hippy appearance. The few tattoos that he had someone ink onto his skin gave him an only too rebellious appearance.

That she spent so much time with Ezra, as he wanted her to call him, earned her mother's disapproval, but her grandmother, Frances, was glad of the help that she offered around the house and that she was paid for. That she made leather strand necklaces with heart-shaped or roundel pendants, in offcuts from branches, and that she sold, gave her an excuse to be with him.

"Go and work for someone else, don't keep on being a housemaid whenever they need you. They're not short of a few dollars and can pay for the work you do for next to nothing."

The jibes no longer got to her, but Ezra sure did, and it really did not matter anymore that they were family to each other, and what they so often ended up doing remained as illegal as ever before; that it was

'sinful but not to be given up so easily

'.

Her mom's father was, in her words, a 'dissolute artist' and behaved as recklessly, sometimes, as when he was just out of his teens and had gotten grandma pregnant. To that implied criticism, she, for herself, would often answer that 'he was a darned good artist and sculptor in wood, and everyone with an open mind knew it!"

If he wasn't painting, then Ezra would be carving and sculpting artwork in wood that he would find in the forest around his home; or else he would negotiate to buy what was needed from the loggers that came into the forest to clear away brush and thin out the trees so that the risks of fire were abated.

Whatever he turned his hand to, Ezra sold and did well out of it, some pieces fetching jaw-dropping sums and, despite all that, and Grandma not so well and often snappy with it, he still had time for her or they made time for themselves and...and they would make out; the wild man being the first to see to her and now did so as no one else could or that she wanted.

♥

"Hi there, missy!" I'm sure glad you found the time to visit me."

Ezra stopped carving the finishing touches to an owl that was seen to be perched on a branch and held out a hand to her. The skin was rough, his fingernails not clean, but she still went to him, her slender-fingered hands sliding over his hairy chest until she clasped them around his neck and pushed up against him, the touch of his hands on her waist making her shiver. Layla pressed her cheek to his bearded face and breathed in his raw masculinity.

"You know that I couldn't just do my chores and not see you... not to come down to the cabin and see what you've produced. I have some necklaces to collect, remember."

"Yeah, I remember. I put them in a little box for you to take with you."

"You're always the thoughtful guy...so, thank you."

She kissed him on the mouth, then pressed her lips to his skin and felt his arms embrace her, clumsily.

"You got time to be here with me?" he asked in a deep voice. "It's been a while since we were together."

"You mean, have we got time for me to be here with you and we make out?" She felt that way, too, just from looking at him and seeing that look in his eyes that she now knew so well.

"Yes, that's what I mean." He broke free of her embrace and soon stored his finished work under the sloping roof what passed for a narrow terrace he had fashioned along one side of the log cabin he called his

'studio'

. Ezra held out his hand, and she gripped it as he pulled her along, through the trees and to the edge of a small lake, the streams filling it flowing from the wooded hills all around them. "We're alone, look...there's no one out in rowing boats. Let's go for a swim?"

"I'll get cold..." she said, yet not bothered by it. They would be alone, Frances saying that she was driving to the local mall to do some shopping and would be gone for an hour or so.

Ezra looked at her and gave a crooked smile that creased his bearded face. "I've got ways to warm us both up. It won't be long. I can't take the cold like I once did.

"Skinny dipping, are we?"

"Yeah, you've got to get home afterwards, and Frances will wonder why your clothes are wet."

"She's gone into town, wanted me to tell you."

"So, we're all fixed."

She squirmed under his touch as she felt him pull loose the drawcord of her washed-out purple lounge pants and push them down her slender thighs, while she lifted away her figure-hugging cropped T-shirt that she knew he always liked to see her wearing. It shaped her, and she had long ago lost any embarrassment to have him see her naked.

His thick, but still flaccid, penis hung down onto his right thigh and Ezra met her look upon him before she took the few steps needed to be in his arms. "I'll keep you warm, darling. Now, let me carry you into the water."

Layla jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist as her arms embraced his neck. He strode purposefully into the water. She gasped, unsure whether it was the cold of the water or the brush of his fingers over her pussy's lips that had made her do it as they sank beneath the surface and then rose, each gasping for breath.

She decided to throw caution to the wind and leaned in to press her lips to his. Ezra froze for a moment because of the suddenness of what she had done, as he usually took the lead. He kissed her back in what was a lover's kiss. It soon went from a press of lips to deepening, open-mouthed and tongue swirling kisses, his fingers working her sex, and Layla rising to meet the entry of his fingers.

"I'm sorry, it's been a while since I could be with you like this!" she exclaimed, clinging to him as thrills of longing rushed through her body from what his fingers did in her.

"Forgotten the cold?" he teased.

"Yeah...yeah!" she said, gasping in response to what he did. "You know that I want so much more! So, please, do me with what you bring!"

He was used to how she spoke and demanded attention from him. He kept kissing her, wrapping his arms around her and holding Layla tight as they explored each other's mouths and pressed their bodies against each other. Layla began to grind her pussy against his cock as he held her close, his shaft slicking over her pussy lips and his hands griping her buttocks to keep her close on him. Layla bucked and swivelled her hips to heighten the pressure and mimicking the act of fucking. Their constant uninhibited movements had the tip of his cock slicking over and past her pussy's lips.

"Not much longer, Gramps!" she called out, the two of them shivering as the cold water took its toll on their willingness to pursue each other in this way. "I'm getting cold but want you in me!"

Layla clung to his neck as she rose to feel his hungering lips on her nipples, his hands spreading her butt cheeks as his penis tip prodded against her opening.

"I'm going to try and come in, darling," he said, pressing his lips to her throat, and as Layla shuddered in response to his slow entry. "Are you sure it's okay to be with me out here?"

She nodded furiously, pressed her lips to his throat as she felt the brush of his beard against her skin. She waited until she felt him enter. "Please, Ezra. Please! I want this so bad. I've wanted it for so long that it hurts."

The bulbous tip of his penis slipped into her and she pushed down, soft whimpers of pleasure on his throat and neck as she clung to him and declared that she could take all of him into her young body.

"Forgive me, darling, for wanting you, but...but it's too darned cold, even for me." He carried her onto the beach, suddenly uncertain of what to do. "Jeez, darlin', sorry. We can't lie on the sand, and the grass is way too rough..."

"In the cabin, then...let me off you!"

They laughed as their clothes were gathered up and they rushed to the workshop, the cabin's minimal furnishings of a small sink unit and microwave on a worktop, a pendant oil-lamp that gave a warm glow to the rom, a table and two chairs, a sofa bed with scatter cushions, the only comfort.

She pulled on his hand as she fell back on the makeshift bed, her legs soon pushed apart and Ezra kneeling to begin eating her out, to trail kisses and caresses over her thighs, and soon arousing the surge of lust that they had felt in the water.

"Come in me...come back where I want you to be, Ezra!"

She squirmed as he entered her body and bucked her hips to meet him. His penis felt so thick, so long, so hard and it moved slowly to find her depths and to pleasure her.

"You always hug it, close around me when...when I want to go so deep in you, darling girl."

She never minded him calling her a girl. It was only too good and apt name to call her given their age differences...who they were to each other. But Ezra, or Gramps, did it for her as only he could. She took as much of him as her body, her cunt, allowed and then she breathe hotly in his ear. He was a man wanting her, not Gramps.

"Fuck me, Ezra! Make me warm."

Ezra let his body weight fall against her as he began to pound her slender body and grip her breasts until she squealed out of pain and wild pleasure. The rutted, and she soon wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrusted in and out of her as hard and as fast as he could, his penis, thick and long, stretching her pussy and bottoming out at the end of her young love tunnel.

"Go on...go on as only you can!"

Layla kept on groaning and clutching at his body. She knew not to scratch him or claw at his skin; she whimpered in her pleasure and at the wildness of what had happened again between them.

"Honey...you darling girl!"

She heard him gasp and felt his embrace tighten on her as he put his arms behind her back and bore his weight as his body convulsed. His penis leapt inside her as he climaxed, bolt after bolt of warm cum coating her moist heat. She tugged and wrenched in a frenzy as she climaxed, waves of release coursing through her young body as she shuddered, and she felt him continue to tamp and stretch, and to share in the last moments of their wild union.

"Ezra! Yes Ezra! Yes! Yes!"

Ezra could feel her pussy still spasming around his cock, and with her yelping in pleasure for him, he couldn't stop thrusting into her as they chased the last of what he had left to give.

"Jeez, darling girl...you sure do it for me."

She clung to him in her rapture, unbothered by the ferocity of his taking of her and the pain in her legs and hips as a strong and virile man took her to the heights of wanton pleasure.

"And my body...my pussy's yours, to do whatever you want with them!"

She met his kisses and felt Ezra finally relax and collapse, crushing her young and slender body onto the sofa bed, his mouth sucking on one breast before his lips tugged on a hard nipple. Only now did he feast on them, and she knew that their time would soon be at an end.

"I'd better go, Gramps, before Grandma returns from her shopping trip. She said she wouldn't be long and asked me to come down here and check on you."

"And you've done just that, beautiful girl."

He felt like the night insects that always swarmed around the lantern he used to light his way back to the house; the temptation of fucking Layla, his captivating granddaughter with her obsessive need of him, too much to resist.

He felt much the same for his wife, but, with her, restrained and considered lovemaking was often the antidote to the reckless passion that Layla aroused in him; not just because of her firm, young body that he wished to claim, but also because of who they were to each other.

Behind the lovely smile and the wondering look in her eyes, there was the prospect of guilty pleasure being pursued once more. Incestuous infidelity was being pursued behind closed family doors, but they had stumbled into these ways between them over time, baser instincts finally overwhelming any remaining sense of restraint.

Layla flooded his mind with the memory of what they had shared again. What a dissolute man he was, wanting to take her to bed or to fuck her wherever and whenever the chance arose and he felt horny on account of the sight of her growing up and the young girl, with her breasts no more than perky mounds pushing at her T-shirt, now a maturing and voluptuous young woman. He had wanted to fuck her since the first time he realized she was developing breasts, that she had a rebellious streak that he knew irritated her mom, his daughter Carol, and when her presence in the house doing chores for Frances the opportunity for their bond to undergo subtle changes.

Her wistful smile, the tilt of her head, her youthful shapeliness all set off triggers of longing. What he had yet to discover was that she had chosen him to be the man to take her virginity, and that still occupied his thoughts, and whenever they were together, but now Layla had become such a defining contrast to the more ordered life he lived with Frances.

The rebellious man, who had made his money and turned his life over and had become an 'artist', was also an adulterer. He had to live with that and the knowledge that Layla had taken hold of more than just his thoughts.

♥

Layla walked through the gathering gloom, the wind soughing in the tree canopies above her, until she reached the garden of the house. There was no sign of Frances, so she put the box of necklaces, with their wooden pendants, onto the passenger seat of her aging car, an eighteenth birthday present from her parents, so that she had more independence, and drove slowly down the gravelled track that wound through the trees until she reached the gate posts marking the edge of the highway.

Her grandparent's place was a single level ranch-style house set in some four cares of woodland and with a path leading down to a lake and a small log cabin where Ezra went to do his painting and wood carving, to go swimming whenever the mood took him and he had not drunk too much when friends of his and Grandma Frances came by. He used it to find his own space at all times of the year, to work at his craft, and to be with her if circumstances allowed that.

She stopped the car before she had reached the gate pillars at the entrance to the property and reached for some tissues stowed in the map well of the driver's side door. She was still wet from the Ezra's cum that was leaking out of her. Condoms weren't often used, and she had gone on the pill, at her mom's insistence, some two years ago when she'd turned sixteen. Just as well, for that was the age when things got complicated in her relationship with Gramps. He wasn't Ezra to her at the time.

It was still difficult to untangle just how it had all begun between them, but she remembered the arguments with her mom as her hormones raged. She had developed more than a crush on the handsome man that Gramps was to her sight, and when he had a traditional job, and then the

'wild'

guy he had reverted to.

There had been times, in the early days, and when her parents still needed babysitters for her and her twin brothers, that she would sit on the floor of his home's sitting room and would thread leather laces through the items she had learned to carve, smooth, and then polish as he patiently taught her those skills.

"You sure are growing up," he would often say, and she'd known that he had noticed what she was wearing; that a pair of denim shorts and a tank top shaped and flattered her pubescent body.

And she would sit on the floor pretending to work on the items she intended to sell and sneak glances at him, to check if his baggy, fleecy shorts could let her glimpse what lay underneath. She had even, when he was dozing and she'd known from his behaviour that he still had a hangover and wasn't going down to the cabin by the lake, stroked his leg but had restrained herself from sliding her fingers up his thigh and to touch his penis.

"What are you doing, girl? You should know better than to work on an old guy like me..." he murmured, drowsily.

He had woken up, or had faked being asleep all along, and she'd overcome the shock of being caught, quickly enough.

"I just wondered what you packed, Gramps...I overheard Mom talking to Grandma about you."

"I'll let you find out for yourself, girl...if that's what you want from me. I'm not missing what a young woman you're growing up to be, but we shouldn't be going there. The guys in college must be fighting over you...or you're pushing them off."

"It's not like that, Gramps...no way."

"Then tell me, or...or show me...what's going on in that pretty head of yours."

She had then shuffled across the floor to be near him and had grabbed his hand that he held out to her, Gramps pulling her onto the couch and to sit beside him. He'd then changed his mind.

"Closer, get closer," he'd demanded, and she had sat on his lap and soon felt just how hard his penis had become and she had ridden it, sitting on his lap with her knees by his sides and they'd let go of any hang ups about what they were getting into.

"I'm not wearing a bra," she had confessed, gasping as his hands went under her T-shirt and held her firm breasts, her nipples soon squeezed between his fingers as he slowly kneaded them. "No one's done that to me before...never skin on skin. I...I waited."

His hands had then pushed up her T-shirt and it had been pulled away. She'd been naked to Ezra's sight, his slow caresses had provoked her into leaning forward to kiss him as a lover would have done, and she had tasted the drink on his breath and tongue as he claimed her, Ezra's fingers grazing lightly over the skin of her tummy as his mouth claimed her breasts. She had rocked back and forth, thrusting her hips to stimulate her pussy as the bulge in his shorts rubbed against her crotch and making her wet. It had aroused rushes of longing never felt before and heightened by who they were to each other.

Darling Gramps would have felt the effect that he was having on her and she there had been no need for her to plead for him to go on. Nor did he ask if she wanted it to continue. Anyone else might have been telling him to stop touching and kissing her as he had done. Nor did the words 'he's your Gramps...your Gramps...your Gramps' enter her head for too long. They were soon dismissed as lust and a sense of adventure took hold in them.

Instead, they had pursued what they had each begun in their ways.

"Take off your shorts...your panties...and...and let me see all of you, my young one," he had demanded between the flurry of kisses and groping caresses that they sought of each other, hers so unpractised and clumsy compared to his.

"Only if you let me see it!" she'd called out in a moment of clarity, hungering to see what the man brought to Frances and, if she let it happen, to her. It seemed that it was what he had wanted, granddaughter or not.

She'd stood over him and shimmied her hips to push away her shorts only for Ezra to reach out and brush his fingers over her panties, the crotch wet and she'd been unable to hide her state of arousal anymore, her senses sharpened when his fingers began stroking over her panty-clad pussy.