My great grandmother, Edith has been in a care home for some years. She is 93 and, put bluntly, is not all there -- it's not Alzheimer's but a form of dementia which means her mind wanders and she behaves irrationally much of the time - although she sometimes recognises the staff in the home, she less often knows her family but can cope with the majority of routine activities in the place.
I'm now 18 and until recently had only visited her when forced to. It's not that I'm callous but she's been in there since I was a little kid and I don't really know what little there is left of her. Plus I'm mostly away at boarding school (all boys) so have better things to do with my free time -- like try and lose my cherry as most of my mates claim to have.
I've always gone there on birthdays and so on -- usually with my Gran (Edith's daughter, Vera, who's 70 herself) and her grandson, my Dad. It was always depressing but could be worse -- some of the other poor sods are completely past it, incontinent, drooling, hanging around in dressing gowns -- at least she's usually clean and fully dressed unless it's really a bad day. Although she mainly talks crap she's generally cheerful, only occasionally dissolving into tears for no obvious reason.
About a year or two back I went in as usual and sat in the extra chair playing with my phone. Dad and Gran made all the running and I couldn't really hear what was being said above the music in my headphones but they were having some sort of conversation and Great Gran was quite animated -- laughing and throwing her legs -- one of her slippers flew off and my Dad retrieved it, sliding it onto the old lady's foot. I couldn't help notice that she was wearing what looked like a golden, fully fashioned nylon stocking (I'm an expert and losing her slipper revealed a reinforced heel and toe, one of my favourites forms of lingerie!). This was not as odd as it seemed -- most of her clothes were antique, presumably for continuity the home kept their patients in what they'd brought with them and those sorts of nylons would have been the norm in Edith's day. Frankly I felt slightly uncomfortable for noticing an old lady's hosiery -- but did I see Dad adjusting his trouser-front too as he sat back in the chair? Christ! I think so, he had a bit of a stiffy (I felt even more uncomfortable about that!).
Porn at school was all sorts but as I've said my particular fancy was lingerie and nylons in particular. There was plenty to feast on -- all leggy models and Baywatch style plastic boobs, too glossy but good enough for a wank. Despite which after that incident I was always reminded of Great Granny Edith's nylons whenever there were seamed stockings in the magazines - and to my surprise, after a while, the thought of Edith's stopped making me feel embarrassed, quite the reverse in fact -- I was kinky even at that age!
On my subsequent visits to the home I didn't mind if my great grandmother was not up to any conversation at all and she frequently wasn't, just sitting there rocking sometimes. I found myself more interested in her clothing -- yes, they were definitely stockings because not always did the shade on each leg perfectly match (see -- I'm expert and a detective) albeit always they were some sort of honey gold and nearly always seamed. I would take surreptitious photo's with my phone and wank about them when I got home -- there was something horny about actually knowing someone who wore such things out of choice, not because a pornographer paid her to do so.
I became obsessed; I wanted to have a stocking to wank with and would often wonder how I might get one. I would visit more frequently, taking the bus with my Gran who used to go without my Dad at least twice a week. I went so often that Great Granny Edith's face would light up when I walked in, even though I'm sure she didn't know who I was. I liked it when she smiled like that, but naturally I was only interested in her stockings -- she's in her 90's for fuck's sake! But I never got anywhere -- Gran was always present, sometimes Dad too -- there was no chance for pinching anything of any kind. I needed to visit alone.
So when Gran went on holiday last month I volunteered to visit -- my Mum took the piss because it was so out of character.
"She's got no money to leave you, you know!" she joked "Anyway, she won't remember you went to see her so no brownie points there!"
I took the bus on the Monday. Great Gran's face lit up again as I went in, delivering her a few sweets that she liked and hoping she'd leave the room for long enough for me to go through her drawers.
We sat, me opposite her trying to catch glimpses of her stocking tops but her dress was too low below the knee. She rambled on about her late husband, their life and I heard for the umpteenth time how their only son Michael had been killed in a motorbike accident and how my Gran had been doted on as though an only child, treated too favourably by her father and spoiled, whereas Mikey had been Edith's favourite.
"Such a good looking boy -- he could have had his pick".
She stared into the distance -- oddly, although she seemed distant she was making greater sense than usual.
She said "I have some photo's if you would like to see them?"
I'd seen them before but she pulled open the bedside table drawer and pulled out two well-worn albums. We looked through them and I saw her entire life, from black-and-white to colour and from youth to retirement. I could see the young Edith was fairly good looking and had had quite a figure. I found myself looking at the woman beside me and for the first time actually as a woman. She was still slim, gaunt even, so her figure was still there, but her clothing disguised all but her legs. Her boobs were lower, almost to her waist in fact, her hair wispy, fine, thinning and white and her skin pale and wrinkled, but she had an elegant, almost statuesque quality despite her frailty and stiff joints.
Then my moment came.
"I must spend a penny, Charlie" she said (my name's Peter) and slowly eased her way out of the chair, using a stick to help her down the corridor to the toilets -- I saw the back of her bony legs for the first time that day -- yep, seams again - horny as fuck! Once she was out of sight I quickly took a stocking I'd had my eye on in a pile of washing waiting collection from under a chair, replacing it with a clean one from her chest of drawers. I nearly took her worn knickers too but that felt like a bridge too far.
That night I was so excited I went to bed early and nearly wanked myself raw, sucking the nylon foot, tasting its saltiness then cumming into the reinforced toe of the stocking. I came about four or five times - how I wished I taken her knickers too. I had to go back, and soon -- Tuesday!
This time I could not let on to anyone where I'd gone. I just went out, Mum assumed with a friend, but I caught the bus alone to the home -- they were a little surprised to see me but busy so said nothing, just smiled.
My great grandmother was sleeping and instead of going in and sitting, leaving the door ajar as usual I closed it behind me and quickly went over to see if there were any used knickers below her bedside chair -- my mouth was dry, my head pounding, my heart in my mouth.
She stirred. "Lenny?" she said -- her husband, my great grandfather's name. I said nothing but walked toward her. The beige dress had short sleeves, a gathered waist and came just to her knees as she sat there. She had left the top button open and one was missing. In the baggy dress she seemed even thinner than usual and in her sleep her face was very hollow and drawn; but much of her fat appeared to have stayed on her chest. Usually her boobs were not noticeable, but today they seemed obvious despite the ill-fitting clothing -- perhaps I was just looking harder. She was wearing those golden stockings again, fully closed slippers on feet. I was hard as nails in my boxers, trembling with excitement.
I leant over her to look through her dark glasses to see if she was asleep still -- it seemed so, although a little dampness ran from her eye, moistening her cheek, her lips mean and thin, un-made up. I don't know what came over me but as I leaned to kiss her before I sat down I pretended to stumble and grasped her bosom as if by accident. To my surprise she reached up and held the back of my head and held my lips tight to hers -- surprisingly strong for a frail lady in her nineties! When we parted, I sat next to her. I'm not sure if I sat down, or my knees gave out. My cock was throbbing -- I was desperate for a wank. Despite all this she was still half-asleep or more, fiddling absent minded with the buttons on her dress.
I so wanted to take advantage -- I didn't care about her underwear any more, just what she had in them.
"Len?" she murmured again, eyes still closed.
"Yes...?" I answered, nervous as hell even though she would probably not recognise that deceit.
"Well then, come here" she said, and reached out her arms, eyes still closed.
As I was sitting on her right, her left arm went to the back of my head again, and her right arm around my back. I leaned toward her and put my right hand to her waist. She pulled me tighter and as I bent my right elbow, it squashed against her left breast. I was worried that she would wake, surely, but she didn't seem at all conscious. Then I saw the medication tray -- she'd had her tranquilisers and that's why she was comatose.
She opened her mouth and poked out her dryish, pale pink tongue, hardly sophisticated but the instant I felt it on my lips I opened my mouth and our tongues met. I'd never kissed a woman like that before so the fact it was my great grandmother was a secondary concern -- I was nearly sick with excitement.
While our tongues were slowly playing with each other, she leaned her left shoulder back slightly and I brought my right hand back and cupped her full breast. I could feel her nipple harden through her dress and brassiere. I gave it a gentle pinch.
"You know, Lenny, they'll find us if the train stops" she said, complete bollocks but my bollocks were about to burst so I didn't care a bit.
"Don't put it under the plaster, I don't like it there!" she went on. I've no idea what she meant but I kissed her again but this time she would not play ball, mouth closed. Damn!
