[Simon is 42 years-old. He's a successful stock broker, divorced, the father of two. He's trim and vital-looking, very assured. Simon was referred by Dr. R of Milwaukee. For our interview, Simon invited me to his summer home on a small lake in the Wisconsin countryside. Interview summary follows.]
Dr. R. said you might like to hear my story. To be honest, I'd like to tell it. You know, it's like a secret that you feel you've got to tell someone even though you know you can't. I think I'll enjoy telling you.
I was 22, just graduated from college and starting my first job. What a piece of shit that was - - selling industrial products across Michigan and Illinois. Lots of time on the road - - bad food, bad motels. I complained about the job constantly to my folks. They suggested I stop by my grandparents for a home-cooked meal and a good night's sleep. My grandparents at that time lived in Southern Illinois. I thought it was a good idea so I dialed grandma up and told her I was stopping by in a couple of days. The news made her real happy.
Grandma and grandpa were old-fashioned folks, living in a small town, happy to be retired. My grandpa was probably ten years or so older than grandma and starting to show his age. Grandma had been a homecoming queen in high school and done some small-time modelling before she met grandpa. She still had her looks.
I pulled into their driveway early on a Saturday afternoon, exhausted after driving since six in the morning. Grandma came out to greet me. She looked great - -her silver hair cut short, her eyes sparkling. She wore a t-shirt and some jeans. I swore as I got out of the car that she didn't look a day over forty. Grandpa was another story. After hugging grandma, we went inside. Grandpa was sitting at the dining room table drinking coffee. His arthritis was so bad he could barely get up to shake my hand.
I dumped my stuff in their guest room and Grandma served up lunch. We chit chatted. I took a quick nap. When I got up, we had dinner. Then, grandma suggested we go out. She and grandpa played bingo every Saturday night. Bingo? I told them I'd drive them and drop them off. While they played bingo, I headed to a nearby tavern and had a couple of cold ones. Boy, did that beer taste good. At nine, I drove over to pick up the old folks. Gramps was tired. Grandma suggested we all squeeze into the front seat so she slid in next to me, with grandpa against the door. The whole drive home, gramma's thigh and upper body were pressed against me. Every once in a while, she'd grab my arm as she talked. I noticed that she'd squeeze my bicep and just leave her hand there. Pretty soon, I could swear I felt her pressing even closer against me. I thought I was imagining things and swore at myself to cut it out.
We got home and gramps said he was heading to bed. He headed into the bedroom. Granma and I opened up beers and talked. After about an hour, granma started talking about her "modelling career." About how pretty she had felt, and how good she had looked. I kidded her that she still looked great and she could probably still model. She laughed, but I insisted she could. I told her she should go change into something and model it for me. She laughed and said she'd just bought some nice clothes. Finally, she agreed.
I opened another beer while granma was in the bedroom changing. After about ten minutes she came back out and my jaw practically dropped. Grandma was wearing a really short, tight black skirt, high heels, and a blouse that was unbuttoned to show off her very impressive cleavage. She had put on a pearl necklace and some make up. I could smell her sweet perfume. She looked so good, I could feel my cock starting to crawl down by pants leg.
