Granddad And Anja Arrivee

"Granddad?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"Can I take my dress off now?"

We'd arrived at the apartment after two further stops. After the first Anja had put an audio story on, hoping I would enjoy a little nonsense while driving. Terry Prattchet's 'Going Postal' was just the ticket. Anja seemed to doze, if not sleep most of the time but somehow managed to chuckle at the more comical observations. At the second stop I made two coffees and ended up drinking both myself. At the third we both had a coffee and a comfort break, arriving just after eleven.

Three trips for me and four for Anja, 'I'm younger and have slept a bit' she had informed me when she went down for the last trip. Everything was near enough sorted.

"Of course Sweetheart, would you like a hand?"

"Yes please, Granddad, if you wouldn't mind?"

As if. . . .

"Come and stand in front of the mirror so I can enjoy both sides at once."

She stood in front of me, facing the mirror. The moment I'd been waiting for had arrived. Anticipation is a wonderful aphrodisiac. At last I could take a proper look at the beauty that was with me for the next two weeks.

I could very nearly rest my chin on the top of her head. I'm just over six feet so she must be five four? Four and a half? I know how important these little halves are to ladies. Dainty little feet, pretty ankles followed by the most delicious legs imaginable. There's legs and there's legs and Anja's legs were the legs that a lot of women would kill for, beautifully toned, the muscles nicely defined yet with a very attractive softness to the edges.

Once upon a time, before 'politically correct' reared it's ugly head, Pretty Polly, stocking manufacturers (they probably made tights as well but I refuse to talk about them) held competitions all over the regions with the finals in London, to find the legs for 'next years' publicly materials. Anja's legs would have made the finals in London but, like Vera's, they wouldn't have made the top three. They were too short! Legs that advertised stockings had to be looong.

The little hook and zip presented no problems, I've never had problems when undressing beautiful women, but I unzipped her slowly. With the zip down to her waist we came to the moment of the unveiling. She placed her arms loosely down at her sides. I stepped in close behind her, placing my hands gently on her shoulders.

"Ready?" I whispered in her ear.

"Ummmmm," she replied turning slightly so that I could kiss her cheek.

I watched her reactions in the mirror as I eased the thin straps off her shoulders and down her arms. She smiled lovingly at me and moved her arms slightly outwards so that the dress was free to fall down her body when I let go the straps. I held them carefully, exposing her beautiful breasts little by little. The material hooked up on her erect nipples and we both laughed. She reached up to release them.

"Uh Rrrr, my job!" I told her, hooking my pinkies through the straps and easing the light material off the obstructions with my big fingers.

Making sure the material didn't move beyond the areola without my consent I stood and enjoyed the view of the, beautiful, partially exposed breasts in the mirror. Anja smiled happily back at me. I kissed her neck before working the dress down to expose the full breasts. I stopped again and enjoyed the view and smiled inwardly on seeing that Anja was clearly enjoying the moment, together with enjoying my moments of enjoyment.

Her breasts were/are magnificent! There is no other word for them. When I first saw them, at eye level, in the opticians, they were beautiful orbs of delight and pleasure and I didn't make any attempt to hide my enjoyment from her. I'd guessed 'EE' if not 'FF' under her rather severe uniform. Now, seeing them naked for the first time and also how very slim she really is I'm thinking 'DD' maybe E's? On a 28" or 30" figure they were truly magnificent! They swelled out invitingly when she breathed deeply and I let my gaze enjoy them for some time. With the fitness and youth of the proud possessor there was no sag whatsoever but a single smooth curve from her smooth upper belly to the nipple on each side. Another fulsome, convex curve to her upper chest completed the image of utter perfection. I cotinued my detailed inspection with her flawless neck and her happy smiling face and topped it all off with her sparkling hazel eyes. I drank in the sight for a long time while Anja stood and watched my obvious enjoyment contentedly.

I continued to ease her light dress down slowly over her belly to pause before the full exposure of her beauty. She widened her stance, slightly.

"Thank you," I murmured.

Her smooth pussy revealed itself fully when I let go the thin straps and the light dress pooled at her feet. She smiled back at me while I drank in her absolutely glorious beauty. She stood there, totally content to let me look at her, and smiled serenely.

Ho-lee-Moses! Not only were her legs perfectly proportioned but her body was a work of art.

The apex of her legs didn't form a tight 'V' but a nice soft 'U' leaving plenty of room for the delicious camel-toe that was so clearly visible without the enhanced effect of tight panties or bikini bottom. Her vulva were invitingly swollen and the clitoris peeked out from under the protective hood. Her mount of Venus was fabulously prominent emphasising her sexual beauty to perfection. To cap it all everything was perfectly smooth to which my tongue will happily attest.

Her stomach was flat, rippled with defined abdominal muscles. Her hips were very gently rounded leading to a slim waist. She was slim. She was fit. Extremely fit, with the body of a trained athlete.

Her long, pale brown/dark blonde hair, which I'd first seen in a severe bun, now hung loose to the middle of her back with two braids forming a perfect, long pony tail. My mind dwelt at length on the possibility of holding onto that tail while she knelt in front of me. Her entire body appeared totally without blemish or man made markings. Perfect skin on a perfect body.

"Do they look as good as you imagined when you first saw them in the shop?" she asked mischievously.

"Argh, you noticed then. Thought I might have just got away with that."

"Noticed? Men clocking my tits is something I've grown up with! Somehow you were different though. You looked at them but you did so quite openly and directly. It wasn't furtive in any way but appreciatively. Afterwards you looked straight into my eyes, as if say 'thank you and they're beautiful'. There wasn't any sort of dirty leer. You'd looked and appreciated and wanted me to know. You were honest, that was the second thing I noticed about you."

"The second?"

"The first was your Paul Newman eyes with an added twinkle of mischief and fun. I instantly knew that you were going to be fun to know and I don't believe I was wrong. The past, what ten days?, have proved that I think."

"As good as expected? My immediate thought," I started, "was that I hadn't held anything quite so beautiful in my arms for over fifty years. Then I realised I was in error, that I had never held anything or anybody quite as beautiful as you before. So, in answer to your question, no, they are not as good, they are infinitely better and I'll be writing to your employer insisting that he or she changes the uniform so that it suits you better. Do you make all your own clothes?"

She grinned at me in the mirror.

"You are observant, Granddad. What do you think of my own designer label?"

"Moi!? Very chic. Who makes your clothes? Me!, nice touch. Preference or necessity?" I asked registering the difference in required sizes to accommodate her slim body and ...

"Bit of both, really. My tits are too big, much more than a handful and my legs are too short. I have to get bras from a specialist shop that caters for the bigger girl, obviously. Normal tops? I can get by with big girl's blouses etc.. the rest of me I can usually get into child sizes. So, it's easier, if I want a dress, to make it myself. I've worked out about a dozen patterns and can run one up in evening or two, if I have to. I made three to bring with me. I hope you like them."

"Turn sideways for me, pretty please," I asked. She turned obligingly.

"Right," I started, "from what I see, your tits are just perfect. Personally I'm a bit greedy, I like more than a handful and my hands are a bit bigger than most, I think."

"Well, you've got a good couple of hands full with mine, even with your big hands," She rudely interrupted before I could finish.

"Yeah, well, like I was saying, I think they're perfect. As for your legs being too short. Let's first take a look at your bum. How many accidents a week do you cause when you're walking along the street? Cars veering off the road. Guys walking into lampposts? Sort of thing. Dozens, I'll bet. And those legs are exactly the right length. They start right where they should, right on your beautiful hips, placing your bum at the perfect height for easy observation. At the other end they end exactly where your ankles begin. Like I said, perfect!"

"Granddad, nobody has ever looked at me like you did. You really looked and appreciated. Other guys have just looked, smiled and dragged me off to bed. Not that I was kicking and screaming against it, I'll admit.

"More fool them," I told her, "How do you keep so perfectly fit? Can I touch?"

"Too right! I didn't bring this lot with me just so you can look at it in a mirror! You never need to ask, ever again. That would just be wasting valuable touching time. Help yourself pretty please."

I turned her to face the mirror again and enjoyed watching my hands explore her delicious, naked body. I nuzzled her ear and kissed her neck while one hand caressed her breasts and the other played across her flat tummy and down towards the apex of her glorious legs, which parted without prompting. She was wet, her clitoris totally engorged. Her nipples were erect. She sighed contentedly as I played happily. Eventually she answered my other question.

"Remember the physical jerk of a husband that didn't exist? Well that's me, really. I run for an hour each day. Go to the gym three times a week. I do yoga each day at home and Zumba when I've got too much energy left at the end of the day. My mum's a yoga teacher and I've been doing yoga ever since I was able to copy her. I'm a qualified yoga teacher myself and can also take Zumba classes although I prefer just to do both at home."

"You didn't go for a run after work yesterday, surely?" I asked in astonishment.

"No, silly. I went at half past five yesterday morning. I always run in the early morning, nobody's about to watch my tits bounce all over the shop."

"You don't wear a sports bra?"

"I do, but when your tits are a big as mine, if I wear a bra tight enough to hold 'em still I can't breathe."

"Will you run tomorrow morning," I asked hoping for a negative response.

"I'm hoping that for the next few mornings at least we can find much more exciting ways of spending an hour. And in the evenings, and maybe at times during the day? If you're up to it?" This last being said with a seriously wicked grin.

"What about the yoga? Need anything special for that?"

I would have no problems watching her exercise at all.

"Well if you don't mind me bending and stretching in the nude I just need a bit of space."

"I think I can put up with you exercising while being naked, if it's for health reasons of course. What about a mat? And Zumba, do you you need anything for that?"

"No problem. A mat just extends the scope of movement I can do. As for the Zumba, I have all the music on my iPhone and yes, I usually do it naked at home, for health reasons, you understand?"

"I understand perfectly and of course, should you need any massage services after your workout I'm your man. I'm Professionally trained, lots of hands on experience."

"You're a trained masseur? That's perfect, I've got the constant need for some attention just here," she exclaimed rubbing her clitty urgently.

"Can you think of a easier way for a horny male to get his hands on beautiful women? Just about here?" I suggested, sliding my finger deftly across her wet pussy lips and up to her swollen clitty.

"Ooooh, Granddad, I can tell you have lots of experience. That's it, just there."

I happily demonstrated my massage skills until she reached her conclusion.

After far too short a time in my arms and reflected in the mirror she turned in to face me.

"My turn now, you've seen mine now I want to see yours." she observed starting to undo my shirt, "ummm, Granddad, I like your smooth chest. Flat tummy, decent abs and pecs! Not at all what I was expecting. You're so tall and slim I was expecting you to be skinny."

She slipped off my shirt while I glowed inwardly. Kneeling at my feet and looked up into my eyes and started to unfasten my belt.

"I've always wanted to know if what they said about a Man with big hands and feet was true," she said impishly as she started to ease my trousers down.

I wasn't sticking out like a flagpole. I'm far too old to get a massive stalk on just looking at a naked woman but in my defence, I wasn't totally asleep either. I stepped out of my trousers when instructed and she returned for my boxers. I waited.

Moving around so she was kneeling behind me, she teased! Holding the bottom she carefully worked the material down millimetre by millimetre, rocking first the left side down a little then the right. We both watched the results as they unfolded, in the mirror. I felt the wide elastic band resting on the root of my cock. She worked the material down slower, dragging out the moment of exposure. I waited as more of my semi-limp cock was uncovered. After about six inches were uncovered she looked into the mirror and into my eyes with a delighted look of surprise on her face. Another inch or so and I could see the beginning of the swelling of my glans, under the foreskin, begin to make itself known. Another inch and the uncut head was just peeping shyly out from under the foreskin at her, all nice and shiny with my lubricant, ready to ease my passage into her.

She licked her lips.

"My God! Granddad, where did you get this from?" She asked wrapping her fingers around it lovingly.

"Picked it up at a 'bring and buy sale'" I explained with a laugh.

"Well!" She exclaimed happily, "if you buyed this what did you bringed?"

She moved around to kneel in front of me.

"Oh, just a couple of golf balls and a rounders bat. Figured exchange was no robbery."

But by the time I'd finished my nonsense she'd rolled the foreskin back and sucked the knob end into her mouth. This effectively eliminated further silly banter as she played quite expertly with my cock. The purple head fully exposed itself from under the foreskin maxing out my length so it had to get fatter given her excellent technique.

"Bloody 'ell, Granddad, 'scuse my French, I thought you were joking about the rounders bat! I can't even get my fingers and thumb to touch any more and it's still growing! No wonder Gladys couldn't wait to get you 'ome!"

"Sweetheart, I've told you a million times, don't exaggerate. And if you continue with what you're doing I'll not have the energy to show you around. I'm thinking we show you around, get some lunch, let me show you off then we can come back here, shower and go to bed until we wake up. Does that make sense?"

"You promise this isn't a once in a lifetime occurrence?" She asked shaking my stiffy.

"Promise," I promised, "in fact I'll probably be walking around with a stiffy for the rest of the afternoon!"

"Now that I'd love to see! You're going to be naked like me, I hope?" She grinned kissing my cock and reluctantly letting it free.

"Will I do, Granddad?" She asked quietly as we were getting ready to leave.

"Pardon me? Will you do? What kind of daft question is that? You'll do perfectly. The most beautiful girl in the Village! Will you do indeed, whatever makes you think otherwise?"

"People will look at me and look at you and see me as holding your hand with one hand and your credit card with the other," she said sadly, "you know that's not true, don't you, Granddad?"

I looked at her aghast at her suggestion .

"'How does that old boy pull a beauty like that? By the minute!' You don't think I'd think that, do you? I know you're not. You know you're not. Do either of us give a damn what anybody else thinks? I don't and I hope you don't."

"Thanks, Granddad." She said throwing her arms around me and hugging me close, "It's just that I'm kinda getting used to that sort of treatment, what with preferring older men. 's why I moved south, actually. A woman found my number in her husband's mobile, rang me up and created a hell of a stink. Apparently it was my fault that her husband was cheating. Accused me of being a cheap whore, only after his money! He'd bought me a couple of sandwiches and a few coffees, total! That was a year ago and I swore off older men forever. Until I saw the sparkle in your eye that is. I've been celibate for a year so I might be a bit greedy, hope you don't mind?"

"Ummm, if you're feeling in need of a good fucking I'd better take you over to No. 42 before we do anything else," I told her, "leave everything, we'll pick anything we need up later. C'mon, time to fuck!"

"No.42? The answer to life, the universe and everything?"

"Yep! And a damn good fucking. It's where I take all my lady friends that need a good seeing to. Actually I never bring them here. You're the only woman that has actually been here. Others know I live here but they've called but never been invited inside. We go to 42 to fuck. It's the first apartment here that I purchased. I keep it as a party/games place now. My agent wants to talk to me about it, sometime. You ready? NeedAWee?"

No.42 wasn't the actual number just an identity for those in the know. It keeps people who overhear plans for a party, gate crashing. It was in one of the noisier blocks. Most of which was rented out on a weekly basis. It was a bit of a walk to get there so I walked us along the beach. Anja was surprised how quiet it was and delighted. Not many people were looking at her but plenty had as we walked through the little bit of the village to get to the beach. She didn't seem overly bothered, she just hooked her arm into mine and looked around and enjoyed as we walked through. I didn't specifically show her anything, by way of pointing it out, just let her look and soak in as much as she could. Allowing her to form her own thoughts on what she was seeing. After visiting No.42 and when she had recovered, I planned on doing the tour guide bit on the way back to the apartment.

"You've never fucked a woman in your apartment?" she asked once we had reached the quietness of the beach.

"No, never. It's my quiet place. My sanctuary. Where I go to be myself. And before you ask, I honestly don't really know, I just know I want you to be there with me. Felt it back in the shop."

She gave me a hug a kiss and a whispered, "You're a mind reader, I had visions of us spending most of our time at 42. Thank you!" She never it mentioned again.

"What on earth is that?" She asked pointing, almost before I had closed the door to No.42.

"Oh, that? That's a fucking chair," I told her keenly awaiting her response.

"Granddad!" She admonished stamping her foot in pretend infuriation, "I thought Gladys told you never to use the good words in a bad way!"

"I'm not," I responded, delighted at the way she reacted, "take a look at it, tell me what you see."

"Well, there's a sort of squarish saddle, a bit like a bike saddle with a short square end and it seems to be adjustable. The back seems adjustable also. Then this kinda pole, thingy goes up behind it. That seems adjustable also. Ummmm, is this a head or neck rest? It looks as if it can slide up and down and pivot. So, I could perch on the saddle lean back and have somewhere to rest my head in a bit of comfort, ahrrr, these straps hanging down. I suppose that's where my feet could go and they adjust up and down and swing left and right. OK, so given the height is set correctly and the back is at the right angle and my legs are held in the right position you could stand in front of me and just slide your cock in without any problems, yes? Like you said a fucking chair! I wanna try it!"