Billy Lange was 18 in the summer of 1967, and while the rest of the country was tuning in, turning on and enjoying the Summer of Love, shy and reserved Billy was spending the summer with his grandmother, like he had done every summer of his teenage years.
That summer of 1967 was different for Billy, and for his grandmother as well.
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I stood in the doorway of my grandmother's bedroom, listening for the reassuring sounds of her breathing, much like I did every night after she went to bed. It was something that I had always done, and the ritual was actually suggested by my mother, who was concerned that the pills Grandma took to fall asleep weren't good for a woman her age.
Actually, Grandma was a lot healthier than my Mom, and even though she was 65 she had a lot more energy than she did as well. When Mom had suggested I check in on her from time to time to make sure she hadn't fallen out of bed or something, I did as she asked, even though the result was always the same when I looked in at her. Grandma would be fast asleep.
This summer my visits had changed dramatically from those in the past, and while I suppose that I could have blamed it on my raging testosterone, in fact there was no excuse for what I had done the night before, nor for what I was planning to do now. In a half hour or so I would feel guilty and perverted, but that was something I would deal with then.
As for now, I was silently closing the door, just as quietly as I always had done, but the difference was that I was on the bedroom side of the door, trying my hardest to keep my ragged breathing as quiet as possible so as not to awaken Grandma.
From what I had been told, the pills she took were pretty potent, and I had never heard so much as a peep out of her in the past. Once she hit the sack, she was out like a light until morning. No roaming the halls or even going to the bathroom. Just a peaceful and sound sleep.
Still and all, I stayed frozen in place for a minute, making sure that I hadn't disturbed her sleep before I moved toward the jumbo bed where she rested on her back, her right arm over on the pillow where Grandpa - dead for almost 10 years - used to be. The bedspread was done at the bottom of the bed, and there was only a bed-sheet covering Grandma from her waist down.
So beautiful, or at least I thought so. Her hair, once such a rich reddish brown, was now greying, but she still looked striking. A face that resembled Audrey Hepburn in a way, and a figure that I found incredibly arousing.
My eyes strayed to her bosom, and it was only recently that I had discovered how busty Grandma Ada was. Never having seen her without a brasserie, it was a shock to see how big her breasts were outside of the harness. Even on her back her breasts were prominent, and as I approached the side of the bed I stared at the large mounds that rose and fell softly with each breath.
I have no idea what I would have done if she suddenly opened her eyes and saw me standing there leering at her, but just like last night I was too obsessed with her to care. Reaching down, I took the bed-sheet in hand and slowly lifted it, bringing it down to her knees before letting it fall gently back down to her skin.
Her nightie, the plain white nightgown that she had probably worn for years, had ridden up on her, and as my eyes took in something I had only fantasized about before last night, I undid the snap of my pajamas and let them fall to my ankles.
My dick was so hard, and the skin so taut and stretched that I was almost afraid to touch it for fear I would cum right away, just like I had the night before. My slender prong was curling upward, and even in the dim moonlight I could see a string of pre-cum hanging off of the tip.
Grandma Ada's nightie was up almost to her waist, exposing a wide triangle of brown hair that looked so soft and fluffy that I longed to touch it. Did Grandma Ada have a really hairy pussy? I didn't know, because hers was the first I had ever seen in person, but it looked incredible to me.
I had planned to make this last longer but I was afraid that I was going to explode any minute, even without touching myself, so I took the sock that I had brought in with me and slipped it on my dick. Last night I hadn't planned ahead, and when I had started cumming my free hand was unable to hold the load I had popped, but tonight I was prepared.
Three strokes was all it took, and my knees buckled as I came, all the while staring at my Grandma's hairy pussy and trying to imagine what her tits looked like under the nightie. I felt like I was filling the sock with my cum as my tool kept spurting and spurting for what seemed like forever.
I reached down and pulled up my pajamas, catching a glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror. What a sight. A skinny nerd with a sock full of cum hovering over her grandmother like a pervert. I got to the door and left as quietly as I had entered it, hurrying to the guest room where I would go to sleep, but probably not before jacking off at least once more while reliving what I had seen.
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Tonight, or more accurately that morning, sleep wouldn't come. I stared at the ceiling, trying to get the image of my grandmother out of my mind. Those breasts - the tits that I had always thought were like grapefruit but had turned out to be more the size of eggplants - what would they look like out of that nightie?
There were three buttons on the front of that worn white nightie, widely spaced with the bottom one down near her waist. They were big buttons too, probably easy to open even in the murky light.
What if I went in there and just undid them? Grandma Ada slept so soundly that she would probably never know it if I just opened them up - just for a little peek. Then again, what if she woke up with me opening up her nightie like that?
Good grief! Even thinking about such a thing was not only disgusting but dangerous. Try explaining that at Thanksgiving dinner, I thought to myself. Where's Grandma? Well, she didn't want to associate with a grandson that undressed and molested her while she slept, so she decided to stay home. Like my life wasn't miserable enough already.
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The fact that I was back in Grandma's bedroom a half hour later says a lot about how obsessed - possessed I was over Grandma. The sheet was still down around her knees, and she was still in the same exact position that I had left her. Hadn't moved a muscle.
I leaned over, careful not to touch the side of the bed, and reached over and touched the large clear top button of her nightie. I could smell that delicate scent of her that I knew so well. Maybe it was the faint residue of her deodorant rising from her underarm, which was exposed with her arm still up onto the other pillow.
I was distracted by the spray of auburn hair that sprouted out from the pale hollow of Grandma's armpit. Grandma didn't shave her underarms - I remember asking her years ago why she let the hair grow instead of shaving it like Mom and my sister did - and she had explained that nobody was around to look under her arms so she didn't bother.
I looked though, and as the years went on I found it more and more erotic looking. Grandma had more hair under her arms than I did, but the reddish brown tufts looked so exotic and natural on her that I found myself getting erections anytime I would get a glimpse of her exposed armpits.
Back to business. My fingers were shaking as I tried to maneuver the button through the hole. Luckily, the nightie was so old and the button holes were so stretched out that to my surprise it slid out easily, as did the next one.
The nightie had opened up a bit, exposing a wide expanse of milky white cleavage and a generous portion of Grandma's right breast. It didn't look like the girls in Playboy did because there were faint veins around their ends, but I wanted to see it all.
