"If I was a gentleman," I told my granddaughter as I moved behind her and looked down in the general direction of the sink she was doing dishes in, "I would offer to help."
I put my hands on Kitten's slender shoulders - Kitten's my nickname for Katherine, the 18 year old daughter of my wife's son - but I wasn't looking at the bowl she was scrubbing. What I was looking at was located down below her prominent collarbone, and when I squeezed Kitten's shoulders the top of her modestly cut scoop-necked blouse opened up like it had earlier.
"That's okay," Kitten answered, her voice reflecting more nervousness that it had when she was doing the lunch dishes, because that she didn't catch on to what I was doing until it was over and done with.
This time I was pretty sure Kitten knew what I was up to, likely having figured out I had been trying to look down her blouse at her breasts again. Looking for them would be a more apt description of what I was doing, since Kitten wasn't very well endowed up on top to say the least, but I was able to get a peek at the tops of her little treasures before I heard her mother coming towards the kitchen.
"I can at least help dry," I offered cheerfully as Kitten's mother appeared.
"What a good Grandpa you have there Katherine," her clueless mother clucked as she passed through before headed outside to water flowers.
"I try," I said with a chuckle.
I do try, I thought to myself. Right now I'm trying to check out your daughter's tits, and now I'm looking over at the sight of Kitten's nipples poking so hard into her padded bra that the outline was visible even through the multiple layers of fabric.
I knew her bra was padded because all of Kitten's bras are. I know because I checked all of them in her drawer. I don't know what size they are because the size tags were all ripped off, probably so no one in the house would know what size bra she wore.
Can't be more than a A cup, I mused while my eyes went from her mother out on the deck then down to her daughter's perky titties wiggling as she scrubbed a pot. Maybe even a double A, but that's okay because I love little titties. Give me a mouth full of tit and I'm happy.
My wife Betty used to have fairly little ones too, before having kids and wolfing down ring-dings turned those round apples into saggy eggplants. It wouldn't be so bad if she at least let me play with those eggplants, but noooo, as John Belushi used to say back in the days when my marriage was fun. Every time I make a move she shrugs me off and calls me silly.
"That's all you ever want," she had told me at home last night before we came out to visit.
Well of course it is, and if I ever got it maybe I wouldn't want it so bad all the time.
I wonder if Kitten gives it up yet, I mused while taking the pot from her to dry. Kids today fuck like rabbits, and then I kicked myself because Kitten's not a girl but a woman. 5'2" and probably not even 100 pounds of little lady. Little boobies and butt cheeks, and her black hair cut short in a boyish style.
Kitten had become a furry little thing too, I had noticed in recent years while glancing over at her fuzzy arms, the hair wet and plastered against her skin on her lower arms and fluffy on her upper arms that had stayed dry.
Kitten had a hairy pussy too, or least didn't shave it. I knew that because I had seen a long black hair tangled in the elastic of her panties when I went through the clothes hamper. Thank goodness she wasn't one of these girls who shave their pussies because that leaves me cold, as if I was ever going to experience either variety in me declining years.
"All done," Kitten announced, breaking me out of the titty trance I was in.
"Guess I fell behind," I said as I looked at the few dishes still wet.
"It's okay Grandpa," Kitten said. "I know where they go away better than you would."
"Right you are Kitten," I said as I continued toweling while watching Kitten put the dried stuff away.
I got a nice peek down her top when she bent over to put a pot away, and another nice view of Kitten when she leaned across me to put dishes up in the cupboard, with me cooperating just enough to allow my granddaughter to reach while making a little contact with her.
As she reached my eyes went reflexively to Kitten's exposed underarm, and I was surprised to see that the entire little hollow was coated with a faint stubble, the black seedlings standing right out against her pale skin. Kitten saw me staring and quickly lowered her arm, blushing a bit as she went over and wiped down the stove.
Hey, I felt like saying. Looked fine to me. Hell, you can even throw the razor away as far as I'm concerned. Maybe I'll show Kitten a picture I have of me and her Grandma Betty at a Grateful Dead concert probably 40 years ago. The woman had more hair under her arms back then than I did.
Of course, that was a long time ago. Times have changed, even if I haven't. My wife sure has, and I miss that fun and carefree woman who used to initiate affection as much as I did. Now? Forget it, and while I'm not the guy I was 40 years ago, I'm not bad. Certainly in better shape than most 63 year old guys, and in better shape than she is for sure.
So this is what my life has come to. Resorting to looking down the blouse of my granddaughter for cheap thrills. Golden years my ass.
......
I couldn't sleep. The snoring machine, after rebuffing my attempt to fool around, was in full blast, snorting and honking away while sleep alluded me. It really wasn't the snoring as much as me only being able to really sleep well in my own bed. Four more nights of this and I would sleep for a week when we got home.
Also tough to sleep with a hard-on, and my dearly beloved wouldn't ever jerk me off when I asked - begged her to do it while I reached over and grabbed her jugs, kneading them while nibbling on her neck.
"They'll hear!" Betty hissed.
"How can somebody hear a hand-job?" I protested
"Do it yourself," she hissed louder, and that was it.
After staring at the ceiling for way too long, I decided to get up and take a leak, and maybe get a drink. After peeing, I went out to the kitchen, and when I looked down the stairwell of the split level ranch and saw some flickering that suggested the TV was on.
I figured that it was probably my son-in-law, so I tiptoed down. Rick's alright in his way even if his new born-again ways are not my cup of tea, and maybe watching a game or something with him would make me drowsy, or maybe we could exchange marriage war stories because I don't think he's getting much either.
I turned the corner and from the entrance of the family room I saw that the TV was indeed on, but not only wasn't there a game on, but it was a movie. Furthermore, the person scrunched into the love seat wasn't my son-in-law but his daughter, Kitten, and the movie was - let's say adult.
Not porn. I could tell from the Showtime logo on the corner of the big screen that it wasn't the real thing but one of those very soft X movies where everybody fucks without erections or insertions. Lots of lesbian stuff between bored looking women waxed and packed with saline that don't usually do much for me either, but this was Kitten watching it.
"Room for one more?" I asked and slipped into the love seat before Kitten could answer, and my sudden appearance made her jump in shock. "Sorry, thought you heard me."
