I was raised by my grandparents on a farm in the Midwest. When I look back on it now, I realize that I had an ideal childhood, although I didn't always think so at the time. Harry and Rosie treated me like their own son. (I started calling them by their first names when I was in my teens.) My kindly grandparents were wise people who did their best to pass their wisdom on to me. I like to think that they succeeded, at least in part.
When I graduated from high school, my grandfather wanted me to stay and help run the farm, but I had other plans. Thirsting for adventure, I joined the Army. I have always felt guilty about leaving my grandfather to work the farm on his own. Perhaps if I had stayed home, things would have turned out differently.
I rose to the rank of Captain and decided to make the Army my career. Then I received tragic news from home. My grandfather had been severely injured when his tractor rolled over on him. I took an emergency furlough and rushed home. Rosie and I sat by Harry's bedside for days until the crisis passed. He recovered physically, but he was never the same mentally.
I had no choice but to resign from the Army. Harry was incapable of taking care of the farm on his own. If I had not taken over for him, my grandparents would have lost the only home that they had ever known. I was bitter for awhile, but something eventually happened that made it all worthwhile.
After a few months on the farm, I felt like a new man. Hard work, fresh air, and my grandmother's delicious country cooking were just what I needed. I worked long hours, but I didn't mind. My grandfather had taught me everything he knew about farming and I put that knowledge to good use. He had once worked as hard as I did, but now he barely made an effort. An hour or two a day and he was finished. He had no interest in the farm or anything else.
My grandmother was just as bright, cheerful and beautiful as ever. If you are picturing a little, gray-haired old lady, you have it all wrong. Rosie was a statuesque brunette with mouth-watering tits and an ass that you could fry eggs on. Even though she was almost sixty, she was hotter than most women half her age. I'm sure that every man in the county wanted to fuck her. I certainly had fantasized about it many times.
I felt terribly guilty about my feelings for my grandmother, but it was impossible not to have them. I had them for as long as I can remember and they grew more intense with age. When she sat across the dinner table from me with her big tits spilling out of her dress, I couldn't help getting a hard-on.
Harry and I were sitting in the shade on the porch late one afternoon when Rosie came out with a towel draped around her neck. She flashed a pretty smile and said she was going down to the pond to take a dip. Even though we had all of the modern conveniences in the house, five minutes under a shower could not compare to a leisurely soak in the pond. I had helped Harry build it many years ago, and had spent many happy hours skinny-dipping in the cool, crystal-clear water. I began getting a hard-on as I watched my grandmother's beautiful ass swing from side-to-side. I just had to get a look at that sweet rump!
Harry sat quietly in his rocker. There had been a time when I could barely get a word into our conversations, but since the accident he hardly spoke at all. I went into the house, slipped out the back door, and made my way through the forest to the pond.
Rosie was waist-deep in the still water, and, just as I had hoped, she was naked. Her tits were even more beautiful than I had imagined. They were the size and shape of ripe eggplants. The perfect tit must sag to give it a ripe look, but it must not sag too much. Hers had perfect sag. The perfect tit must also have a perfect nipple, big but not too big. Rosie's light-brown aureoles were so perfectly round that they looked as though they had been painted on using a template. An inch-long sucker grew from the precise center of each aureole.
I held my breath as I watched Rosie soap up her beautiful tits. She began masturbating them by pulling on the slippery nipples. I had to pull my steel-hard cock out of my pants to avoid injuring it. My grandmother sank into the water up to her neck to rinse the soap from her tits, then she turned her back to me and walked toward the far bank. I jacked my cock harder as I watched her delicious ass emerge from the water. I could not detect a single flaw on those marvelous buttocks.
When she was thigh-deep in the water, she turned toward me and I got my first look at her cunt. She had a nice growth on it but she hadn't let it grow wild. It would have been a perfect triangle if the top had not been rounded. She soaped it again and again until hygiene became masturbation. Her eyes were closed and her smiling mouth was open as she worked her soapy fingers in and out of her cunt. She lowered herself to rinse off the soap and then turned away from me again and left the water.
My grandmother stretched out on the grassy bank and casually masturbated with her fingers. A passerby too far away to see the tiny crowsfeet at the corners of her eyes might have taken her for a woman half her age. She truly was stunning.
