I puttered around the house, starting my fall ritual of putting stuff in the attic, clothing, seasonal knick-knacks and the like, a task that used to be easier when I was younger, and my husband was alive. But as I'm pushing 65 and though still in great shape, going to the gym and running regularly, it is a little more tiring than before. So I rely on the help of my grandchildren, such as this day when 19-year-old Bradley came by to assist me.
Ah, Bradley. I noticed a change in him in recent years, a strapping young lad, college athlete, quite the hit with the ladies, a change that had him looking at me oddly from time to time, particularly when I was dressed for warmer weather. Like today. I had slipped into a pair of mid-thigh satiny white running shorts and a tight white top to hit the gym and left it on when I got home and Bradley pulled into the driveway.
I couldn't help the feeling he was checking me out, a sensation that first left me aghast, but as time wore on, more than a bit flattered. Being the object of prurient attention by one so young couldn't help but make me feel better, but at the same time leaving me ashamed for it. The boy would check out his silver-haired granny when I wasn't totally covered in clothing, and then make an excuse to dart off to the bathroom, where, I imagined, he was relieving himself in more ways than the usual. Still, I shook those thoughts away, deeming them unpleasant and immoral, fighting the ones that were quite the opposite.
This day, the two of us hauled boxes to the attic, taking turns, me getting that unmistakable feeling of being watched whenever I'd bend over to pick something up, on more than one occasion hearing the boy moan almost imperceptibly behind me as I did.
Once, I heard a more frantic moan, a desperate moan and then him gulping, as if fighting something.
'Good lord,' I thought. 'Is he...is he about to..cum in his pants?'
I turned and saw him, red-faced and uncertain, and covering his groin with his hands, scurrying to lift a box for me, figuring I caught it just in time. A sly smile crossed my lips, the reason why filling me with shame and her own uncertainty.
"Uh, Bradley, we're almost done here, just one last thing," I said. "There's a light bulb over in the kitchen that needs changing, it's pretty high up. Can you get the closet stepladder for me?"
"Sure thing, Grandma," he said, happy for the diversion.
He set the ladder up, light bulb in hand, as I stood before him.
"You go up, you're younger than I am!" I said brightly. "I'll make sure you don't fall."
"OK, Grandma," he said, walking up the ladder to the top rung where he froze the instant I put my hands high up the backs of his thighs to hold him steady.
"You OK, Bradley?" I asked, knowing full well he wasn't as I felt the heat from my hands through his jeans.
"Uh, yeah, yeah, fine, fine," he stammered, probably glad he was facing away so I wouldn't see the bulge in his pants I assumed he had brought on by my hands on his thighs and more than likely hoping against hope he wouldn't pop a load!
He struggled with the light, a tight recessed fit, but at least it took his mind off the sexual rush that I assumed was overcoming him. I wanted to stop, thought about stopping, but couldn't. His thighs were trembling in my hands and I found myself gently needing his steely young muscles, making him groan a bit more loudly.
"Uh, better let me up, Bradley, I have pretty skinny hands and fingers, probably work better," I said, impulsively patting his fanny playfully.
"You...you sure?" he squeaked, no doubt realizing that in my sexy little shorts, getting behind me would mean looking up underneath them.
"I'm sure," I said, tugging at his belt to pull him down the ladder.
I was right. Moments later, as I stood on the ladder, I knew his gaze was going directly up the backs of my wrinkled yet sexy thighs to the little sweep of my butt visible in my white panties, offset in its paleness by the long tanned legs below. He moaned again, more desperately now and I fully imagined he was about to shoot a load in his pants! It felt so wrong, so perverted, so immoral – and so hot.
I couldn't help myself and pushed the sexual envelope further.
"Uh, Bradley, hold me would you please?" I said over my shoulder, knowing the effect it would have on the boy putting his hands on the legs I knew he was staring at.
"Uh...ok...Grandma," he stuttered, closing his eyes and his hands around my amazingly solid calves, getting more solid under the tanned, wrinkled skin as I moved about, tensing them as I maintained my balance.
"Don't be shy, Bradley, higher, put your hands on my thighs, the way I did to you, it's safer!" I said, suddenly, shamefully feeling my pussy moisten beneath the matted fur gone damp in my panties, knowing full well what I was doing and not wanting to, but unable to stop. "I won't bite!"
I heard him gulp as he slipped up my sculpted calves to the firm lower thighs and beyond, finally cupping around my taut hamstrings, the flesh saggy and wrinkled but hard beneath, the sinewy muscles flowing hot in his hands. I know he was looking up as I leaned up to work the light bulb loose, my shorts riding high, my legs flexing hard, and I felt my butt being exposed as my panties scooted into my saggy ass cheeks! So wrong, I knew it, but with that white flesh of my butt so close to him, I couldn't help myself and I swear I heard him sniffing, his face inches from my ass, seeking my scent. His hands trembled and I knew his cock, his lovely, young cock, was mere seconds away from betraying his incestuous lust!
"Are...are you almost done, Grandma?" he said in a near whisper, no doubt looking at the tufts of hair peeking out from my panties, his hands quivering as he tried not to massage and caress them, and probably fighting the urge to plunge his face deep into my ass cleavage for a good, deep whiff. "Are you?"
"Almost there," I said, amused by the irony of the statement since I knew by his weak voice he was almost there himself.
