All Characters in this story are 18 and over, pure fictional incest story. Also side note, I am in the UK so I may mention fanny a few times which I am sure most of you know what that means in the UK.
Every summer, we'd head out early to visit my granddad--the kind of early where the sun already feels heavy and relentless, pressing down like it's daring you to complain. The heat was unbearable, so I chose my mini skirt and a blouse with a couple of buttons undone at the top, just enough to show a teasing hint of cleavage. Honestly, it gave me a little confidence--there's something satisfying about feeling good in your own skin. My brunette hair was swept into a high ponytail, a futile attempt to battle the sticky, clinging heat of the day.
"You're looking lovely today, Lily. You'll have your granddad clutching his chest, you will," Mum teased, her voice playful as she climbed into the passenger seat with a cheeky grin.
"Thanks, Mum. You look gorgeous too," I said with a smile, glancing at her flowy summer dress. It was light and airy, brushing just above her knees, and the pale floral print suited her perfectly. She always knew how to dress for the weather.
Sliding into the backseat, I shut the door with a soft click and leaned back against the seat, already wishing for some relief from the stifling heat. A moment later, Dad got in, his usual calm, focused expression in place as he adjusted his seatbelt and turned the key. The engine roared to life, its familiar hum a signal that the journey had begun.
"How old is Granddad now, Mum?" I asked after a few moments, leaning forward slightly between the seats. The curiosity hit me out of nowhere.
"He'll be 91 next year, love," she replied, glancing back at me with a small, proud smile.
"91," I repeated, leaning back again, letting the thought sink in. "He's doing pretty well for his age, isn't he?"
"Oh, stubborn as anything," Mum chuckled, fanning herself lazily with her hand. "Still potters about in that garden of his, even though he moves slower than a snail."
Dad chimed in, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. "That garden's his pride and joy. Keeps him sharp. Man's got more tomatoes than a grocery store, but it's what gets him up every morning."
I couldn't help but smile at the image--Granddad in his floppy sunhat and oversized gloves, ruling over his little garden empire with a watering can in one hand and a trowel in the other. It was so comforting, like a snapshot of everything good about summers growing up.
The drive stretched on, the familiar hum of the car blending with the soft buzz of the radio. The air-conditioning was doing its best, but it wasn't enough to fully counteract the heat. A bead of sweat slid down the back of my neck, tickling as it went.
"Ugh, it's like an oven in here," I groaned, tugging at the neckline of my blouse, hoping to let in even the tiniest breath of air.
Mum shot me a knowing look in the mirror. "Just watch yourself around Granddad. You know his eyes like to wander."
"Mom, he's harmless," I replied with a soft laugh. "Besides, I think he's too busy worrying about his tomatoes to notice anything else."
"Still honey, be careful," she reminded me again. I looked at how short my skirt was and the missing buttons on my blouse. Nah it be fine he's harmless.
Later that day, we arrived.
By the time we pulled into Granddad's driveway, the sun was at its peak, blazing down without mercy. The familiar little house stood just as I remembered it--white paint peeling a bit more with each passing summer, and the porch sagging slightly under the weight of age and memories. His garden, though, was as vibrant as ever, a chaotic explosion of green vines and red tomatoes that spilt out from the backyard to the side of the house.
I stepped out of the car, smoothing down my mini skirt as the hot pavement warmed the soles of my sandals. Mum grabbed the basket of fruit we'd brought, her floral dress fluttering lightly in the warm breeze, while Dad stretched, muttering something about his back and long drives.
As we walked toward the house, Granddad appeared in the doorway, leaning slightly on his cane but smiling wide enough to make up for it. His sunhat sat crookedly on his head, and I could see the faint smudges of dirt on his hands--proof that he'd been out in his garden, as usual.
"There's my favourite girls!" he called out, his voice a bit raspier than I remembered but no less full of life. His eyes crinkled at the corners, twinkling with mischief. "And you too, son-in-law," he added with a wink at Dad.
Mum laughed, walking up to him and planting a kiss on his cheek. "You're looking good, Dad."
"And you, sweetheart," Granddad said, his eyes flicking over her summer dress approvingly. Then he turned to me, his grin widening. "Well, Lily, look at you. You're a heartbreaker already, aren't you?"
I rolled my eyes with a laugh, but I felt a slight flush creep up my cheeks. "Oh, stop it, Granddad. You're just being nice."
He gave a hearty chuckle, then gestured for us to come inside. "Come on in. It's too damn hot to stand out here yammering. I've got lemonade in the fridge."
We followed him inside, the coolness of the house a blessed relief from the sweltering heat outside. The familiar scent of old wood and freshly baked bread filled the air, instantly taking me back to childhood summers spent here.
As Granddad shuffled off toward the kitchen, I caught Mom's eye, and she gave me a subtle nod toward my blouse.
"What Mom?" I whispered to her quietly.
Mum leaned in slightly, her voice low enough for only me to hear. "Button up a bit, sweetheart. You know how your Granddad can be."
I gave her a playful eye roll but tugged the blouse together anyway, fastening the next button. "Mom, seriously. He's harmless," I whispered back, grinning. "And he's 91! I don't think he's up to much mischief anymore."
She arched an eyebrow at me, a mix of amusement and motherly warning. "Age doesn't stop wandering eyes, love. Just... humour me, alright?"
"I can't the few top buttons are missing," I whispered back with a slight shrug, pulling the blouse together as best I could without much success. "Unless you've got a sewing kit hidden in your purse, this is as good as it gets."
Mum sighed, her lips twitching like she was fighting off a smirk. "Fine. Just... stay seated at the table, alright? No unnecessary bending over or giving him a show."
"Mom!" I laughed quietly, shaking my head. "You're making it sound like he's some kind of rogue. He's Granddad, for crying out loud."
"Exactly," she replied with a knowing look. "And he's still got eyes in his head. Just trust me on this one."
Before I could respond, Granddad's voice carried from the kitchen. "Lemonade's on the table! Don't leave me drinking alone now."
Mum gave me a final glance that screamed I mean it, before turning and heading toward the kitchen. I followed, trying not to laugh at her persistent worrying.
The kitchen was small but warm, with the same old floral curtains hanging over the windows and a slight creak in the wooden floorboards. Granddad was already seated, his cane propped against the chair as he poured a second round of lemonade into the glasses.
"Now, sit yourselves down," he said, gesturing grandly to the chairs as if he were hosting a grand feast. "I don't get visitors often, so you'd better make yourselves comfortable."
I slid into a chair, smoothing my skirt out of habit, and took a sip of the lemonade. It was tart and perfectly chilled, the kind of refreshing that instantly made the sweltering day feel a little more bearable.
"You've still got your touch, Granddad," I said, lifting my glass toward him. "Best lemonade I've had all year."
He grinned, leaning back in his chair. "Damn right, it is. Been making it the same way since before your mother was in nappies. No shortcuts, no store-bought nonsense."
Mum rolled her eyes playfully. "Alright, Dad, we get it. You're the lemonade king."
"King of a lot more than lemonade," he replied with a wink, his eyes flicking to me briefly before settling on Mom. "But I'm glad you all made it. House feels a lot less lonely when it's filled with my girls."
He picked up his cigarettes and his lighter which he dropped, he tried to bend down to pick it up but struggled.
"Here, let me granddad," I said, quickly setting my glass down and moving to help. As I bent down, I was suddenly very aware of Mom's earlier warning. My mini-skirt didn't leave much to the imagination, and I tugged at it instinctively, hoping to maintain at least a shred of modesty, but it was too late.
I heard Granddad behind me, "Oh my."
The room fell quiet for a second, and my cheeks flushed hotter than the summer sun outside. I quickly straightened up, holding the lighter and handing it to Granddad without meeting his eyes. "Here you go," I said, trying to keep my tone light, but my voice sounded a bit tighter than I intended.
Granddad chuckled softly, taking the lighter from me. "Thanks, sweetheart. You're quick on your feet." His voice had that usual warmth, but there was something else there--a tinge of awkwardness maybe? Or maybe I was just overthinking it.
Mom's gaze burned into me like laser beams from across the table. She didn't say a word, but the lift of her eyebrow said I told you so louder than words ever could.
I returned to my seat, smoothing my skirt again and sipping my lemonade, trying to regain a sense of normalcy. Granddad lit his cigarette with a casual flick of his thumb, exhaling a puff of smoke that seemed to cut through the tension in the air.
"So," he said, as if nothing had happened, "when are you all planning to head back? Can't imagine you've got much to stick around for in this old house."
Dad took the lead, answering something about the heatwave and an early start tomorrow, and soon the conversation shifted back to gardens and tomatoes. Mum didn't let it drop completely, though. She caught me as I refilled my glass from the pitcher.
"That," she whispered with the faintest smirk, "is exactly what I meant."
"Mom," I groaned, keeping my voice low as I shot her a glare. "It was an accident."
"He got a right eye full, I told you to stay seated. You better have something on under that skirt." She said folding her arms and looking at me seriously.
