Granny's Dirty Photographs

You may want to read the earlier chapters of

Granny's Dirty Photographs

before you continue with this one.

Right, a short scene this time, but one in which things get complicated. I'm leading towards a climax (no pun intended) that should culminate in the chapter after this one -- or I might squeeze another in-between. After that, who knows if there will be more?

I hope you enjoy the scene. I've tried to keep the situations credible as the plot -- what plot? -- evolved. A couple of chapters ago I mentioned a suspension of belief by the reader, and I hope I've managed to coax you through the fantastic events that Robert has experienced in the weeks leading up to his birthday in an almost believable way.

Anyway, as usual I ask for feedback. Feedback by PM on Lit, Public Comments below, or by email are all great. If you want a response to feedback then email is best.

If there are typos and errors in the text, I apologise; I do try to iron out fuck-ups but, as the writer, I'm probably blind to any errors. Please forgive any howlers that you may come across, y'know the kinda thing: a character starts off with dark hair and suddenly turns blonde. If you do spot anything let me know so I can correct them in later versions.

Right, read on. I hope you enjoy the following.

GA -- Langkawi, Malaysia -- 7th of January 2013.

*

My mother lay next to me. We were both in her bed, me laying on my side, my head on my fist with my elbow against the mattress in support while she lay on her front. One of my hands traced light patterns over my mother's back, gliding down her spine and tickling its way all the way to where the soft slope of her buttocks began. I ran the tip of my forefinger over the small tattoo before I squeezed one cheek of her arse.

"That's lovely," my mother murmured sleepily. "Keep stroking me like that, Robert. I love it."

I leaned over and kissed my mother's shoulder, my fingers slipping down between her legs.

"I'm leaking spunk, baby," she chuckled. "My pussy is dribbling." She sighed and said, "How many times did you come last night? God, but if I'd known how ardent you are as a lover I'd have fucked you before this." My mother gasped and then purred as my fingers worked at her clit.

"I love pumping into you, mum," I breathed, licking the back of my mother's neck so she sighed and wriggled.

"I really like it when you do, my darling boy," mum replied. "It shows me how much I turn you on, proves that I'm a desirable woman."

"You're fucking gorgeous, mum," I said, my voice choked with emotion and desire. I rubbed the tip of my forefinger over the small heart-shaped tattoo on my mother's buttock again. "What did you get that done for?" I asked.

My mother tensed and then rose up onto her elbows. She studied my face intently for a few long moments.

"Someone I love," she replied, her eyes still on mine. "The first man I knew." She kept on staring at me as though gauging how much to divulge. "You know I love you, Robert," she said seriously. I nodded. "Well, I love you and you love me, right?" I nodded a second time. "And I'm your mother. Don't forget that. You and me, we've committed incest, Robert; you understand what I'm saying?"

I didn't want to say anything about my grandmother. I didn't feel like I should tell my mother that I'd fucked her mother, that I'd already been involved in an incestuous relationship -- that I was

still

sticking my hard dick into her mother, and that I had no intention of stopping.

"Yes, mum," I replied with an exasperated roll of my eyes. "I know exactly what it is we've done. I know who I've fucked."

"The tattoo is for my dad, Robert, your grandfather. He's the man who loved me first; he's the one who took my virginity."

Well, that surprised me! I had thought that my mother's secrets were her desire for me, her own son, and that she was fucking her boss when they went away on bank business. I never, not for a second, considered this angle.

I hefted myself upright and boggled down at my mother. She rolled onto her side and considered me seriously.

"I'm sorry if that shocked you, Robert," my mother said. "I just thought that the time for secrets is over." She gave me a concerned look. "Don't judge me, Robert," she continued. "We've just done exactly the same. You made love to me." My mother smiled and slid a hand between her legs. "All night long, too. So please," she reached out and stroked my arm, "don't judge me for doing the same with my father. Don't hate me, Robert."

I blinked and opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out until my mother's plea percolated into my shocked brain.

"I ... I don't hate you, mum," I croaked. "I love you. And I wouldn't judge you." I was thinking about my own secret just then, and I supposed it would be right to tell my mother about me and gran.

Her hand rubbed my arm. "Have I shocked you, Robert?"

"It took me by surprise, mum," I said, recovering from the startling revelation. "Do you ... do you still do it with granddad?"

My grandfather had moved away after an affair with a teacher colleague, leaving my grandmother on her own. We still saw him from time to time, perhaps twice a year for Christmas and a birthday or some such; the occasional contact was what prompted my question.

My mother actually blushed and looked away. She nodded. "Yes, sometimes." Her hand squeezed my arm. "And I do have other lovers, Robert. When I go away down to London. Sometimes I pick up random men for sex."

"Jesus, mum!" I pulled away from her hand.

"It's just sex, Robert," my mother responded, a slighted expression on her face. "Just like you and Elaine."

Touché, mother. She'd used my own argument against me, the exact same thing I'd said when I confessed to sleeping with my grandmother's friend, Elaine.

"I'm not old, Robert," my mother continued. "In fact I'm in my sexual prime and sometimes I just need a good, hard fuck."

I winced to hear my mother talk like that, but it was undeniable, she was right. For me to get all sniffy because she slept with other men would be hypocritical of me.

"I can give you that, mum," I said eventually, giving her a grin.

She smiled back at me, obviously relieved. "You already have. Several times as I recall." She rolled onto her front again. "Tickle me again, darling. Stroke my back. I'll tell you how it happened shall I? Me and my father -- do you want to know?"

I settled onto my side and felt my mother squirm under my fingers as my hand slid over her skin.

"Tell me," I whispered.

"It was after I started at the bank," my mother began. "I was a junior teller at the branch here in town, It was just before my nineteenth birthday and I'd been finding it hard going at work. I was very down in the dumps, finding it a bit of a struggle, and I was on the settee with my father watching crap on television one Saturday evening. Mum was away on some teaching course so we were alone in the house. I'd been spilling my problems to my father and then settled my head in his lap while we watched some game-show or other.

"I can't recall what the programme was now, but it couldn't have been that good because I felt drowsy and soon nodded off. I must have started to dream, perhaps something rude, because when I woke up, still groggy and not completely awake, I found I was kissing someone.

"At first it didn't make sense -- where was I? The last thing I recalled was lying with my dad's lap as a pillow, how could I now be kissing somebody like this? It was very heated and passionate, with tongues and hot breath and panting.

"Then I heard him mumble my name, 'Clara,' he said. 'What are we doing?' It was my own father's voice! And then I realised just exactly what we were doing."

My mother turned her head to look at me.

"Who started it?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure, not really. I suppose he must have. I was wearing a nightdress, like a tee-shirt that came down to my shins, but when I woke up it was all bunched up around my hips. He could have lifted it up while I dozed and perhaps played with me, but I'm not entirely sure because when I woke up fully and we were kissing, I was feeling myself between the legs."

"What happened, mum?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

"Well, when my father asked what we were doing I wasn't sure what to say. I was confused. I'd been asleep and when I woke up I was playing with my pussy and kissing my own dad. I felt sexy though. Turned on. I was very wet and full of desire. I broke away from my father's mouth and just looked up at him. He stared down at me, not touching me at that stage; he simply sat there and let me dictate the outcome.

"I don't know why I did it. Well, I do, I wanted to come. I had such an itch between my legs all I could think about was rubbing my clit until I came. It was very strange, the feeling in the pit of my stomach, the burning itch that needed scratching so badly between my legs. A kind of reckless insanity washed over me, and the next thing I knew is I'd taken hold of one of my father's hands and brought it between my legs. 'Clara,' he gasped then. 'My beautiful girl.' And the look on his face, the hunger in his eyes for me just sent me over the edge.

"'Touch me, dad,' I groaned up at him. 'Touch me. Please, daddy, play with me there.'

"When his fingers found me all wet he groaned and began to rub me. We started to kiss again, really grunting and moaning as we both got hotter and hotter. After a few minutes of this, with both of us squirming with desire, dad must have gotten fed up and frustrated because he just about threw me off his lap and stood up. At first I thought he was angry for some reason -- perhaps because I'd led him on. Maybe he'd realised just what kind of sin we were committing and had come to his senses.

"I was right, he was mad, but not angry mad, just mad with wanting me. He gave a growl and pulled my arms and legs around until he had me positioned on the settee as he wanted. Then he knelt on the floor and, after pushing my legs wide apart, put his mouth against me.

"I came almost straight away. My own father's tongue squirmed into my cunny, Robert. It felt so fucking lovely to feel him there, wriggling and alive inside me. He slurped at my clit and reached up to feel my breasts. I couldn't get my nightdress up quick enough. I was mad for the feel of his hands on my bare skin; I wanted my father to squeeze my breasts and keep on kissing me between my legs forever.

"I came and came, lost in that world of pleasure until the glorious sensations cooled a little. It was then I saw him kneeling there on the carpet, a look of intense hunger in his eyes as he held his cock in his fist.

"It looked fucking enormous and I was so frightened. 'What are you going to do?' I asked -- which was rather naive of me, don't you think?

"My father stroked that awful fucking thing sticking up so stiff and horribly thick. He grinned at me and said, 'I'm going to fuck you with it, Clara. That's what I'm going to do with this.' He gave it a shake and pulled at it some more.

"I remember whimpering as he shuffled closer to me on his knees. I couldn't take my eyes of his cock. I thought there was no way my little virgin pussy could accommodate such an evil looking thing. I was sure he'd hurt me with it. He'd tear me apart just trying to put it in. 'No, daddy,' I moaned before he kissed me.

"He grabbed my hips and pulled my bottom to the edge of the sofa. Then he lifted my knees and spread my legs. He kissed me again, his hands on my breasts while he panted and moaned into my mouth. 'Hold your legs open,' he grunted at me, and as scared as I was, trembling with fright, I did as he said.

"I wanted him to do it, you see, Robert. It was a moment of paradox; on one hand I was so scared he'd rip my pussy open with that big cock, but on the other I wanted him to do it. I suppose I must have instinctively known my body could accept such a brutal instrument pushing into it. After all, my own mother must be a regular recipient of my father's cock and burning lust, so I must be able to take him too.

"We kissed again and I felt him split my labia with the underside of his erection. I pushed my father's chest away so I could watch. With a kind of terrible fascination holding me spellbound I saw my father's blunt end nudge at me. I felt him there, pressing at me, a dull pressure that made me gasp and wince with anticipation.

"I was sure it would hurt. It had to hurt, my first time and on such a big fucking thing like that. But it didn't. Not at all. I felt a slight resistance and then he was there, filling me, gliding into me, inch after inch of gristle until our pubic bushes met and his balls nudged my arse.

"I remember looking down, staring down in fact as I wondered, stupidly, where his cock had gone. And then he began to move. Oh, God, Robert it felt so good. He slid in and out, in and out and then, after a minute or two, once I'd settled a little and gotten used to being so stuffed with a man, he began to fuck into me. He had me on my back with my knees hooked behind his arms and drilled me. I came from the way his dick rubbed at me inside. He'd grind down onto me, his body pressing against my clitoris as we rutted there like animals.

"Of course, in the end, he couldn't hold back. He just roared and flooded inside me. The swelling of him inside me throbbed, his cock pulsed and then I felt a little flutter against my cervix and I realised that was my father's semen bursting inside me. I felt such a rush of love for my father that I started to cry, and when he rolled off me, his cock dribbling with ejaculate he got all worried and concerned.

"I reassured him that he hadn't hurt me and that I wasn't upset. 'It was lovely, dad,' I sighed. 'I love you.'

"'Do you want to do it again?' he asked me.

"Of course I did. And my father fucked me sore for the whole night."

When my mother finished speaking I was rock hard for her again.

"And so you got the tattoo for him?" I asked.

"Yes," she said, nodding. She pointed at my hard-on. "Are you going to put that inside me again, Robert?"

"If you want me too, mum," I replied, grinning. "When did you start shaving your bush?" I asked when I saw the neat triangle at the top of her cleft and was reminded of her comment about her pubic bush mingling with my grandfather's.

"A long time after that first fuck with my father," she replied. "Now come here and fuck your mother again. Be a good boy and make me come."

She rolled over and I climbed between my mother's legs and slid into the heat of her. Her pussy squelched and farted around my cock as I fucked into my own spunk, deposited during that tempestuous night of love.

"Listen to that, mum," I grunted, pumping away as she clung to me and pulled me against her breasts.

"I'm not surprised," my mother gasped. She thrust her hips up to meet my downward strokes, groaning and moaning constantly. "How ... many times did ... did you ... how many times did you come inside me last night?"

Feeling the surge in my cock threaten again I pulled my gooey shaft out of her body. I knelt by her side and quickly slid two fingers into my mother's opening.

"Wank my cock," I grunted as I curled my fingers inside and rubbed like my grandmother had taught me. My mother groped for me, her climax beginning to boil. I watched my mother's fist work at my slippery shaft, my length lubricated by the mixture of gloop from her body and my jizm.

We came together, my mother jerking and writhing, her fingers tight around my girth while I squirted my morning's outpouring over her chest.

My mother kissed me a few minutes later when we'd both calmed sufficiently enough to talk.

"We're going to be so good together, Robert," she sighed. "Just think, we can love each other like this whenever we like. Nobody need ever know."

That's when I found myself caught on the horns of a dilemma. Did I tell my mother about my grandmother? I felt I had to, for if I didn't tell her right then I'd find it difficult to ever reveal my incestuous relationship with my grandmother to her. It might never become an issue, but an instinct told me that it would be best to be completely honest right from the start.

"There's something you need to know, mum," I began.

I told her that since we were being honest with one another, and because she'd trusted me with the secret of her and her father, that I had a confession of my own.

"Sounds very intriguing," my mother responded with a smile. "Do tell, darling."

I watched her face as I told her about snooping under my grandmother's bed and finding the pictures of gran in the nude.

"My father will have taken them," my mother responded, not realising yet where my story was going. "It might surprise you, Robert, but my parents were a couple of swingers years ago. My father would tell me all about the things they'd gotten up to in the past. You wouldn't believe it to look at your gran, eh?"

"I know all about it, mum," I murmured, gauging my mother's reaction carefully. "Gran told me."

It was mum's turn to be shocked. "What on Earth would she be doing telling you things like that?"

"She caught me with the pictures," I revealed. "Or she knew they were missing and put two and two together."

"Oh my God!" my mother cried, eyes wide. "What did she say? She must have been mortified."

"At first she was angry, yes," I said quietly.

The silence lengthened as my mother's brain worked out the rest. "You and ... and ...?"

I nodded. "Yes," I whispered.

"Together?" mum said, completely flabbergasted. "You and my mother?" she added slowly.

I nodded again. "Yes, mum. Just like us. Just like you and granddad."

"Oh. My. God ..."

"There's something else, mum," I continued. "It's Elaine. I've ... We ... That is to say Elaine knows. We've all been in bed together mum. The three of us."

She took it well considering. My mother stared at me for what felt like a long time. I had no idea what was going through her head, only that she seemed to be struggling internally. Eventually she rolled out of bed and went to her bag that was on a chair in the corner of the room. She rummaged around inside for a few seconds before bringing out a packet of cigarettes. My mother doesn't smoke usually, and I knew the pack was only used in times of extreme stress at work. Well, she had something to think about now.

She lit up and took a deep drag, blowing smoke at the ceiling before she moved to the window and, heedless of her nudity, opened it.

"Well," she began after smoking vehemently for three or four puffs, "that took me by surprise." She shrugged and grinned weakly. "You dark horse, Robert. You and my mother. I never would have dreamt it."

"How do you feel?" I asked, concerned that she wouldn't take the news too well.

My mother snorted and sucked at the cigarette. "Surprised, I suppose. But what can I say? I fucked my own father -- your gran's husband -- I can hardly go on a mad one about you and her, now can I?"

"Since you just delivered that piece of news, Robert, and since we're being completely open now, there's one more thing you should know."

There was more? Jesus, what now?

"Your father wasn't killed in an accident, Robert. What really happened was that my father and I couldn't stop doing it. Whenever we were alone and the opportunity presented itself we'd be at it like rabbits. I wasn't on the pill, I'd no need to be since I didn't have a boyfriend and had been a virgin up until the night on the settee. We never used protection, Robert," my mother finished.

That stunned me. It turned everything upside down. My grandfather was my father ... I was my own mother's half-brother ...

I shook my head, thinking like that only confused the shit out of me.

For the rest of that day I moved around in a state of shock. I went about the physical actions of a normal human being, but my head was miles away, in a different world to this one. My mother did her best to explain and to comfort me through the first hours and days of her shocking revelation, a week later I was some way towards getting my head around who I really was.