So, here I was, getting ready to land at the Denver Airport, wondering how in the world I got into this situation and what my new life would be like. Of course, in order to for you to understand my story I'll have to give you a little background history.
My name is Jason, and I'm eighteen years old. Up 'til now I'd been living with my parents in Oregon. My parents had recently been killed in a freak accident with a logging truck and I was being schlepped off to go live with my grandmother Rose. Now, my parents had been some back-to-the-land, quasi-religious types whose idea of a righteous lifestyle was to live up in the mountains fifty miles from the nearest town and a million miles from any kind of modern influence (hey, if I sound a little bitter, I AM)! We had no neighbors, and, consequently, I had no friends. I was home-schooled and, apart from brief forays into town to stock up on supplies, had very little contact with other people aside from my folks. My parents had some kind of philosophical feud going on with their respective family's, and I don't think I'd seen any of them, any, since I was five or so. This was especially true of my maternal grandmother (Rose), whom my parents, on the few occasions they ever mentioned her, was presented as some kind of she-witch from hell!
As I've mentioned, I was home-schooled and was essentially a solitary, private child. To top it off, I had been a somewhat sickly child when younger and, at eighteen, still looked like I was thirteen or so. Skinny, only five foot four, no bodily hair, and (worst of all) a cock that was barely four inches long when fully hard! Of course, at eighteen my cock was hard most of the time, but the only release I'd had up 'til now was sneaking off to the woods to play with myself while poring over an old, tattered copy of Playboy that I found once beside the road.
So, think about it: Eighteen years old, no experience with the outside world (never mind the opposite sex), and off to start a new life with no idea of what to expect... Of course, these were the thoughts and frustrations filling my mind and churning my stomach as the plane approached the airport. Well, the landing was uneventful, and, after I had made my way through the airport to the luggage carousel and was standing there nervously waiting for my solitary bag to come off, darting glances here and there around the terminal looking for someone, anyone, who could possibly be my grandmother, a hand gently tapped me on my shoulder and said, in a questioning tone,
"Jason, Jason, is that you sweetheart?"
I turned around and there she was, to me, a vision of beauty: An inch or two taller than me (but, who wasn't?), very nicely dressed, with stylishly coiffed short blond hair, and just a little on the chunky side, but, nonetheless, somehow fit looking. To my uninitiated eyes she looked no more than 45 years old (I later found out that she was actually 57), and more of a active, attractive, businesswoman rather than someone I would have imagined as my grandmother. We made some idle chit chat while we waited for my luggage, and then made then long trek out of the airport to her car and started the drive home. Rose (immediately after the first time I addressed her as "Grandmother Rose" she admonished me and insisted that I address her as simply "Rose") lived a fair way out in the suburbs of Denver, and this gave me a chance to somewhat surreptitiously study her as we talked during the drive. My first impressions seemed correct, elegant, well-spoken and very, very pretty. As I mentioned earlier, she was a little stocky, but by the curve of her legs showing underneath her skirt, no stranger to an active lifestyle. I also found out during our conversation that she had been divorced for the last ten years (something my parents had never mentioned) and, I gathered, that her divorce had left her with a tidy sum of money.
When we finally reached her house I was totally amazed. Wrought-iron gates and a stone archway lead up to a long, curving driveway past a well-tended flower garden to a large, Victorian ranch that I thought fit for some Hollywood mogul. Rose gave me an abbreviated tour through her palatial estate and then led my to what was to be my room. Growing up in a small A-frame in the mountains of Oregon had left me ill-prepared for the sumptuousness of her home, and I was only the more impressed when, later, she showed me her swimming pool in back, about 50 yards away from the house. Rose had an Olympic-sized pool enclosed by a four foot fence on the front, with a taller fence on the other three sides. The entranceway had a gate and archway closely resembling the entranceway to her house, with the only difference that the pool entranceway was entirely framed with mirrors, and also the interior wall had a similar mirrored surface. A full bar was present (although, I didn't recognize it as such as the time), along with a large array of recognizably high-quality pool furnishings such as chaises, lounge chairs, etc.
The next couple of weeks flew by in a blur as I settled into my new surroundings, so unlike anything I had experienced until I came to live with Rose. Eating well, lounging around in a beautiful house, and, simply hanging out with my beautiful grandmother. We spent a great deal of time in and around her pool, and, I did find myself becoming uncomfortably aroused at times. Rose was fond of wearing rather skimpy bathing suits and I found myself often unable to take my eyes off her. While she was a little chunky, she had gorgeously toned legs, and a sweetly rounded butt. Her boobs, while a little on the small side, stuck deliciously straight out from her chest, and from the way that her nipples poked out from the fabric of tops, were long and thick. I must admit that her close proximity and luscious body inspired more than a few stroking sessions on my part late at night alone in my room, especially so because she was very affectionate towards me, hugging and kissing me often (sweet torture when we were at the pool...). However, I was totally taken aback at a conversation we had one night before I went to bend after being there a week or two!
"Jason, dear, we need to have a little talk."
"OK Rose, what's on your mind" I said with a little sinking feeling, thinking that she might have heard an inadvertent noise while I was pleasuring myself one night.
"Well, Jason, I guess I'm what you might consider to be a social nudist" she replied. "What I mean by that is that I enjoy being naked around the house, and I kind of miss that since you've been here."
"Oh, oh" I replied, as smartly as I could at the time!
"Look honey" Rose said, "I don't want to embarrass you or anything, but I really do like being nude. Now, I'm not saying that you should walk around naked if it would make you uncomfortable in any way, just that I hope you wouldn't mind if I do."
"Well, Rose, I don't know if I can or not, but, I mean, it is your house, so you should do whatever you like best" was the best reply I could come up with at the moment.
"OK Jason, but please do remember that you don't have to do anything you don't want to" she said, "Now, I'm kind of tired and feel like turning in," and leaned over to kiss me on the cheek.
"Alright Rose, I'm tired myself, so, see you tomorrow."
