Andy was just like most healthy 18 year old guys, with a mind that pretty much focused on music, sports and girls - not necessarily in that order - but young Andrew's tastes were a bit different that many of his age.
That was why when everybody else was chasing girls their age around, Andy was content to help his grandmother out around her house almost every weekend.
And that's what this story is all about. It's just another Saturday night at Grandma's...
***
"I don't know about you, Andy, but I'm going to take a shower," the silver haired woman said as she lifted herself off the bedding with her elbow and looked over at the naked young fellow beside her. "I'm sweaty and full of you-know-what."
"No, I don't know, Grandma," the lad said, giving the woman his most devilish grin. "Tell me what you're full off."
"Your cum, Andy," the Matriarch of the family said, shaking her head at her impudent grandson. "Your sap. Your spunk. Your jizz. Your semen. Take your pick."
"I like cum the best," Andy opined, wiggling his cock at his grandmother playfully.
"Oh Andy, not again?" Agnes Porter said as she looked at the penis that had already sent 3 loads of semen into her that night, and now seemed to be getting erect again. "I can't - I simply can't. I'm not as young as I used to be."
"Neither am I," Andy kidded. "C'mon. One more time Gram. You know you like it. You expect me to lay in bed and look at your naked body and not keep getting hard?"
"I think you need your eyes examined," Andy's grandmother said as she looked at the hand that was cupping her breast, gently massaging the apple-sized tit.
"How many 63 year old women have tits this firm?" Andy challenged.
"Or that small," Agnes added.
"More than a hand full is a waste," Andy proclaimed as he felt the little pink nipple blossom in his palm.
"I'm glad your hands aren't as big as your you-know-what."
"No, I don't know what, Grandma."
"Your cock, Andrew."
"I love it when you talk dirty, Grandma," Andy declared, leaning over and nuzzling into her neck, inhaling the lavender scent that she always wore.
"You're a sick young man, Andy."
"And you love me, right Gram?"
"More than life itself, honey," Agnes Porter declared as she reached over and took her grandson's semi-flaccid organ in her weathered hand, lifting the slender tube up off of the nest of light brown curls and holding it gently. "I am sore though, honey."
"Everywhere, Grandma?" Andy said with a raised eyebrow, and he frowned when she nodded.
"Almost everywhere," Agnes finally said, and the smile that Andy gave her made her forget how tired and sore she really was.
"If you want, you can tell me a story," Andy suggested, squirming as his cock started to get harder and longer in his grandmother's grasp.
"Okay, Andy," Grandma said, letting go of his cock and reaching over to the table, where a large tube of Play lubricant rested.
Andy watched the slim, pale woman turn away, exposing the faint tattoo of a rose she had on her hip, and the lad wondered if she had any idea when she got that done forty years ago that her grandson would be running his index finger around it.
"Did you send that lady the picture you took last week?" Andy asked.
"Yes, and that reminds me!" Grandma Agnes said excitedly, jumping off of the bed and walking out of the room. "Be right back."
***
How they got to this...
"Damn," Andy said to himself as he watched the love of his life scurry out of the room, her petite 5'1" and 100 pound frame not looking like a senior citizen's at all.
Andy was lucky, and he knew it. To think it all happened that day when his grandmother walked in on him in his room and caught him jacking off to a old Penthouse magazine his old man didn't hide well enough. While Andy got flustered and humiliated when she caught him jerking off, Grandma hardly blinked.
"Need a hand with that?" Andy remembered his Grandma saying, and he also recalled what she said when she got a look at what he had been stroking.